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Death Penalty News

Striving for a World without Capital Punishment

Singapore: Preparing for Impalement Executions?

Published Sunday, November 22, 2018 Part IV Conclusion

DPN You said, suspension method?

MbO If we use very slick stainless steel and lubricate it well as is traditional (we have determined that extra virgin olive oil would be the best), then the convict would slide down the pole very quickly. Remember, this is meant to be “slow” impalement. Also, if unsupported, the body could tilt and not sit upright. Not only would that interfere with the intended effect, but it would present an embarrassingly awkward view that might shame the prison authorities.

DPN We wouldn’t want to do that, would we?

MbO Definitely not. But we also want the prisoner as exposed as possible as part of the deterrent. Remember any such executions would be broadcast, countrywide.

DPN Really?

MbO Maximum deterrence of potential wrongdoers. What our researchers came up with is an inverted “Y” frame. Again, the best stainless, mounted in back of the convict and attached to a pole parallel to the impalement pole. This would also be made by Lambertz Maschinenbau. They are actually working on a draft design. The convict will be strapped, arms together overhead and ankles spread to the frame, stretched tightly. We don’t want them able to move themselves to delay or accelerate the process.

Once the impalement pole has been lodged in the appropriate orifice (or orifices), the frame would them be slowly lowered by remote control servo motors. We would order these from our regular supplier, Siemens AG, also in Germany.

DPN You seem to only use the best.

MbO Most definitely. That way there are no embarrassing surprises. Much thought has gone into the motion and speed of the motors. It was decided that small jerks of downward motion at random intervals would do the most to disconcert the condemned.

DPN Disconcert?

MbO Yes. Rather than gradual stretching, each small drop would be a tearing and the anticipation of random moves would worry them constantly. Therefore, we determined to use a programed computer to control the timing. We have contracted with an American software firm, that wants to remain anonymous, to do the programing. It has been decided that an average speed resulting in death in not less than 15 minutes and not more than 45 would be ideal.

There you have the full details. Can I answer anything else?

DPN No, [gulp] that is very complete. Thank you for your candor!

MbO I’m very glad to help. Can I give you a quick tour of the prison?

DPN Yes, that would be very nice.

[MbO gave us a tour which demonstrated his pride in the institution, which, indeed, was the cleanest, prison we had ever seen

So is MbO a monster? You’ve heard his words. We should add that the parts cut for brevity were all concerning his personal life. He is an animal lover (chairman of the Singapore Animal Rescue), active in multiple civil charities to help the less fortunate and, especially, to transition former convicts back into society. A lover of classical music, he plays second viola in the prison orchestra.

We independently interviewed seven recent inmates, two of who had been subjected to severe caning sentences. To a man they were effusive with praise for MbO and his running of the prison. Each credited him and his systems for helping them reform and return to society.

However, of course, we were unable to interview the over 200 persons who have been executed by him. Their voices are forever silenced.
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Cell, Security Detention, Central Station 11:40 AM

Barbara Moore felt even worse than Jeffrey Hodges as she shuffled back to her cell, escorted by two large, silent guards. Try as she might to distract her thoughts, the visions of horrible death kept crowding back into her mind. They had to see that she was innocent! But even Jeffrey didn’t seem to believe her story, questioning her over and over, nitpicking tiny errors. She kept thinking how she could change it to make it seem more convincing, what new she could add to make it all seem true.

The long walk down the halls made the tight steel shackles chafe her wrists and ankles and the tight chains made walking difficult. The silent bulk of her guards just reinforced the injustice of the systems in this shit-hole of a country! She had been unfairly accused and now was unfairly treated by these dummies.

They came to her cell and the guards had her enter and stand in the middle. One stood in front of her while the other knelt down behind with a key to unlock her ankles. He was unsuccessful and said, “Must be the wrong key. I’ll have to try another.”

Distraught, hurting, tired - Barb lost her patience with the casual incompetence of the men, “Hurry up you fucking idiot! How hard is it to get the right key!”

The guard standing in front said, “Harry, the princess here thinks you’re an idiot! I’ll help you with her. Hold her arms so she doesn’t fall.”

“Right, Trivikram,” said the other who quickly rose, grabbed her by the elbows, and yanked them back together hard, with his hips forward against her back. Just as Barb cried out, Trivikram, the guard in front, drove his baton hard into her abdomen, just below the navel. A whoop of air escaped her mouth as her belly collapsed under the impact. The sudden, powerful blow caught her completely unexpecting and unprepared. Before she could regain her breath, he drove the baton in again, high, near the solar plexus. Barb doubled over in pain, her diaphragm in spasm, her breathing difficult. Harry released her arms and allowed her to fall hard to the floor, banging her hips and her right cheek.

“I don’t seem to be able to find the right key,” Harry said. "Guess I'm just an idiot, Miss Moore. You’ll just have to wear those a while longer until this idiot finds it.” He gave her a hard kick in the ass with his boot, drawing a pained groan. “Might take the idiot a while, sorry.” The two guards left and locked the door, leaving Barbara lying on the floor, chained, moaning, and gasping for breath.

She lay there for a long time, crying tears of pain and fear. Her belly clinched in pain and she felt her gorge rise into her throat. She swallowed desperately to avoid vomiting and saliva pooled in her mouth and dribbled out her lips.

At least, she had the strength to sit up and scoot across the rough floor to the cot. Painfully, she got herself on the bed and curled up, shackled and crying. Her middle went on hurting for a long time and she was sure she’d suffered internal injuries. Her ass ached from a deep bruise.

Over the course of midday and the early afternoon, she lay undisturbed. Gradually the ache in her middle faded and her fears of serious damage receded. But the horror of her situation cut through her thoughts like a terrible nightmare. The swift violence of the assault showed her how vulnerable and defenseless she was here. Her body was at the mercy of sadistic guards who could hurt her whenever they wanted, just as the intake monsters had raped her at will. Nothing prevented her from being beaten or raped at any time! Looming over it all, was the threat of being sentenced to death! Even a horribly suffering death. Jeffrey just had to get her acquitted!

Eventually the two guards returned. They ordered her to stand in the center of the cell. Still very sore, she managed to get off the bed and shuffle to the spot. They unfastened the chains and replaced them with the simple wrist cuffs in front. A slightly larger tray of food for dinner was set on the bed and she was left alone. Even with stomach pains, the long fast since only a small breakfast had Barb famished and she soon finished the meal.

A little later the two guards entered. The one whom she had called an idiot, Harry, asked, “Still think I’m an idiot, bitch?”

“No, sir,” she replied softly, terrified of another attack.

“Then show some respect. My shoes have gotten dirty working with the scum here today. Get down and lick them clean.”

Barb just stood and stared at him open-mouthed for a moment not believing he could be serious. He brought his face close to hers and grinned menacingly, “Do it, bitch, unless you want my baton up your ass!”

Shivering, Barbara sank to her knees and bent down to his dirty shoes. Tentatively, she extended her tongue to lick the black leather. Immediately, the gritty, sour taste and feel repulsed her. As she raised her head to protest, the guard pulled up her loose shift and tapped his thick baton on her asscrack. “Lick Now!”

Oh my God! He meant it! He’ll sodomize me with that! Somehow, she stuck out her tongue and proceeded to run it over the filthy surface. It seemed to take forever as she fought the gag reflex.

For about fifteen minutes, the guards joked with each other about what they wanted to do with her and her body. Hearing the frightening and disgusting threats, she struggled to please. Finally, he pronounced her efforts acceptable. The guards exited with the tray and she was left to her own thoughts.

Barbara huddled up on the cot, arms tight around her legs, sobbing. She had never imagined that anyone could be so humiliated and degraded.

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9.

“Ms. Whitaker! Wake up! We’ve arrived.”

“We have? Oh! What time is it, Officer Newman?” said Rose, rising from where she had been asleep, lying down on the back seat of the police cruiser, and looking out the window.

“Around 4:30 in the morning, ma’am.”

“Hey! What’s going on over there?”

“Where, ma’am?”

“Over there. See! That area over there, all lit up, with the police vans and all those people.”

Newman turned, stared out the car door window, and took his time before answering.

“I’m guessing, from the looks of it, that those vans are there because they’ve just delivered all those protesters arrested at yesterday’s riot. Looks like they arrested an awful lot of kids, doesn’t it?”

“It does. What do you suppose will happen to them here?”

“Rioting is a capital crime, as you already know, Ms. Whitaker. They’ll be thrown in cells, and then one by one they’ll be interrogated by FNPA investigators, who will try to find out who they are, what their role in the riot might have been, whether there were others involved who escaped arrest, whether there were others who had knowledge of the plan and may have put them up to it, and so on.”

“I see ...”

“I think you’re smart enough, Ms. Whitaker, to realize it’s that last one you need to worry about. If any of them identify you as involved in any way, that will be used against you.”

“These interrogations ... um ... how do they ... I mean, what if those kids refuse to cooperate?”

“I think you and I both know the answer to that. There are many effective ways to extract information.”

“You mean torture?”

“I think it’s time now to take you in, Ms. Whitaker.

“You didn’t answer my question!”

“It’s time now to take you in, Ms. Whitaker.” he replied, as he opened the car door and got out.

Moments later he was guiding Rose through the entrance to a cinder block building over which a sign read ‘FNPA Goose River Center, Special Investigations, Receiving’.

The woman at the front desk was well known to Newman, and greeted him with a warm smile.

“Hello Queenie!” he called out cheerfully as he steered Rose up to the desk.

“Top o-the-mornin’ to you Newman, and what have we got here?”

“Ms. Rose Whitaker, detained for questioning with regard to yesterday’s riot.”

“Ah, yes I see her file on my monitor. Your body cam video is there too. I’ll be passing all this on to the interrogators.”

“Splendid, who’s on tap to handle her case?”

“Ah, let me see ... right ... it’s Murphy and Spencer.”

“Okay, could have been worse for her ...”

“You might say. Jones and Hauptmann are off duty. Now, if you’ll kindly hand Ms. Whitaker over to me, I’ll take it from here. Oh, and If you’re thinking you might stick around, I hear they’ve got fresh pastry in at the canteen.”

“Right, sounds good.”

He couldn’t help but throw one last glance over his shoulder as he headed for the canteen. She was headed off in the other direction on Queenie’s arm, but before they disappeared from sight she looked back and offered him a weak smile.

Just another case, he chided to himself on the way to the canteen. But he couldn’t deny that he had developed a soft spot for her and wished her well.

Inside the canteen, he was warmly greeted by Murphy and Spencer, who waved him over to their table.

“Well, speak of the devil!” grinned Spencer.

“Who, me?”

“Yeah you! Murphy and I have just been reviewing the Whitaker case. We’ve read the digital transcript of your interview and Murphy’s got the body cam video here on his tablet.”

“And she’s quite the looker!” exclaimed Murphy, with a sly wink.

“Sure is!” agreed Spencer. “I don’t remember any teachers looking like her when I was in school! And she certainly fell for that line about how regulations require that you and your body camera be present even while she’s getting dressed, didn’t she!”

“Well, I ...

“And what an ass! My God, Newman! And a nice rack too. I nearly lost it when I saw that part where she tucked her tits into her bra,” enthused Murphy. “It’s a wonder you didn’t throw her down on that bed and fuck her brains out!”

“Alright, enough guys!” Newman pleaded, shaking his head. “Listen, kidding aside now, she’s pretty scared and not a bad person. So do me a favor and don’t be too hard on her today.”

“She’s gotten to you then,” said Spencer with a more serious and business-like expression on his face. “How deeply into this was she? Ringleader? Or just someone in the wrong place?”

“Truth be told, guys. I’m not sure, but I hope it’s the latter and she gets off with a little public JP.”

“Well, we’ll see, said Spencer, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet. “Time to sit down with her and see what she’ll give us. Want to sit in on this one, Newman?”

“No, I was up all night and I’m bushed. I’d just be in the way.”

“Right, here’s the key to my office. Go on in there and sack out. No one will disturb you there.”

“Thanks, Spencer.

****************

Five hours later, Newman was awake and hungry. He left Spencer’s office and headed back to the canteen, where he bought a sandwich and a cup of coffee.

He was just finishing the sandwich when Spencer and Murphy turned up and joined him.

“Here’s your office key, Spencer. Thanks”

“No problem.”

“Well, tell me. How did it go with Whitaker.”

“She’s not giving anything up, Newman. Scared as hell, totally clammed up.”

“Have you had to get rough with her?”

“For the most part, no. They’ve started interrogating all those arrested protesters over in the other Unit this morning, and we kinda figured one of those kids would give her up if she was really involved, but so far no one over there is talking. So just before lunch we left her with something to think about.”

“Always a good tactic.”

“You want to go over and take a look, Newman? She’s in ‘Interrogation Room 3A’, and I left the door to the two-way mirror room open. Go take a gander. Maybe you can give us a tip or two on how to get her to talk after observing her.”

“Ok. Think I will,” agreed Newman, draining his coffee and leaving what was left of his sandwich on the table.

Five minutes later, after a quick exchange of pleasantries with Queenie, he was standing in front of the two-way mirror, staring at Rose.

Spencer and Murphy had certainly give her something to think about. They had left her suspended from the ceiling, strappado-style, arms pulled back and cuffed. And they had stripped her naked. Her flowered spring dress was draped over the back of a chair. Her bra and panties lay in the middle of the floor, her discarded sandals over against the wall.

They hadn’t yet suspended her to the point of any serious strain ... just enough to pull her arms uncomfortably back and upwards, forcing her to lean well forward and stand on her tippy toes.

As he watched, she rotated slowly around, tugging at her cuffed wrists high above her back, twisting and gyrating, in a vain attempt to find a more comfortable position. Her body was sheened with sweat, her hair matted, her face reddened with exertion. As was usually the case in these matters, Spencer and Murphy had turned the room temperature way up when they left the room.

Slowly rotating around, she presented him with her ass-side ... cheeks somewhat spread given her bent-over posture ... and his mind flashed back to when she bent over with her back to him to step into her panties back in her bedroom. Only this time he had a prolonged look, and a clear view of her cute little puckered asshole and the invitingly meaty lips and narrow slit of her pussy.

Then she came around, dancing on tiptoe, as she attempted to change her position again. He saw her turn her head towards the mirror as though she sensed she was being watched. He wondered how she could tell and if she suspected it was him as he admired the lovely shape of dangling breasts tipped by thick erect nipples.

“Nice to look at, huh?” said Murphy who had slipped into the room unnoticed.

“Absolutely. So .... what’s next for her?”

“Well, if I had my druthers, I’d fuck her from behind using both holes,” replied Murphy, “but inflicting pain is more likely to lead to results, so we’ll start by using an electro-prod on some of her most sensitive parts. Care to watch?”

TO BE CONTINUED
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How have I missed this thread, and why am I the first to like and comment after a month? Has it been hidden?

I've seen your illustrations in some of the current stories, Settantuno, wonderfully done simple vignettes and straight to the point, as we see here in the thread. I hadn't seen the first two pics though, larger and more ambitious, and very very good.

That first one has such a lot going on, the bored soldiers, the onlookers, the shocked woman in the background, and the intensely lively naked young lady receiving her punishment. The frame that holds the pulley foreshadows her ultimate fate, death by hanging. There is even an echo of the girls flogging in the ox driver and his whip.

I assume the second one is the same woman, now hanged. Very different, a much quieter scene but no less dramatic, we see her after her initial struggles, swinging and slowly succumbing to the rope, still conscious. The colour in the central part of the picture focuses our attention on the subject, and on the reactions of the onlookers. Look at the woman behind her, mirroring her pose, fully clothed, smiling. Is this a before and after, a lesson in how easily fate can change?

go west-05-p crop.jpg

Great work, I'd love to see more of these big set pieces.
 
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How have I missed this thread, and why am I the first to like and comment after a month? Has it been hidden?

I've seen your illustrations in some of the current stories, Settantuno, wonderfully done simple vignettes and straight to the point, as we see here in the thread. I hadn't seen the first two pics though, larger and more ambitious, and very very good.

That first one has such a lot going on, the bored soldiers, the onlookers, the shocked woman in the background, and the intensely lively naked young lady receiving her punishment. The frame that holds the pulley foreshadows her ultimate fate, death by hanging. There is even an echo of the girls flogging in the ox driver and his whip.

I assume the second one is the same woman, now hanged. Very different, a much quieter scene but no less dramatic, we see her after her initial struggles, swinging and slowly succumbing to the rope, still conscious. The colour in the central part of the picture focuses our attention on the subject, and on the reactions of the onlookers. Look at the woman behind her, mirroring her pose, fully clothed, smiling. Is this a before and after, a lesson in how easily fate can change?

View attachment 830674

Great work, I'd love to see more of these big set pieces.

Madiosi searched these postings and copied their in this thread.
 
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