How does it actually feel like to be executed by hanging?
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I know, none of us here were actually executed by hanging, but many of us do have some experience with breath play and also made lots of research on hanging as a whole. So I would like to know how being hanged, along with the overall preparation and activities linked with it, must have felt for people mentioned below:
1. Mary Surrat
2. Elizabeth Martha Browne
3. Roxalana Druse
4. Houriyeh
5. Masha Bruskina
6. Louisa Masset
7. Nasra El Enesy
1. Mary Surrat
2. Elizabeth Martha Browne
3. Roxalana Druse
4. Houriyeh
5. Masha Bruskina
6. Louisa Masset
7. Nasra El Enesy
1.Mary Surratt
Languishing in your prison cell your crumpled, whimpering form is far from the stoic daughter of the confederacy you were in the boardinghouse . You cell is dank, sparsely furnished with straw, a bowl and the indignity of a bucket for relieving oneself. The only allowance you have is a rocking-chair that Ana brought you but it is too painful a reminder of home today so you sit weeping on a pile of straw. You hate the smell, you hate the cavernous echo of bootsteps that remind you of the guards dominion over you, but most of all you hate that the only light shines that shines through is from the courtyard where they are constructing....you try to cancel out the image of the ghastly wooden contraption that invades your thoughts.
You have not been able to sleep because of the incessant sound of hammering and moving lumber that has come from the courtyard. "Hey lady, when they take you out you oughta do a curtsy an' thank those boys for workin' so hard for you! It ain't easy building a scaffold in this heat heheheheh..." one of the guards had jeered cruelly. You know that your lawyers are petitioning the court with a writ of habeas corpus but by know you are exhausted from countless updates, the stuffy jargon and the way they stammer and prattle on trying to reassure you. Just as you have resigned yourself to accept your fate you jump as you hear a knocking sound from outside followed by a clattering CRASH. "Did it fall apart?" you ask yourself as you peek through the cell window as your curiosity gets the best of you. Oh God no!
The sound you heard was the crash of a sprung trapdoor being tested. Four large sandbags dangle in the air, rocking like the pendulum of a clock. Your mouth is agape as you stare at the way they move back and forth, twisting and swaying. Like a flood the realization fills your soul: that noose will have your neck in it and your limp body will be swinging in the wind just like that sack. The Image is too much. You begin to sob hysterically. Not the weeping of deep sorrow like the day your verdict was delivered. No, you scream and wail like a little girl, terrified pleading to nothing in particular "NO nonononono NOOOOO!" Neither the sound bemused chuckling from the guards or the steps of Father Jacob and Widget entering register as you wail and clutch your dress. Father Jacob says "Hush child, pleading and crying like this can't help. Compose yourself and look to the Lord for guidance." Father Widget awkwardly stresses the limited time and the need for prayer and rites. The way he emphasizes the need to hurry before....(you can't bear to say it) only makes it worse and you collapse to the floor. Father Jacob kneels and consoles you with a gentle smile. "Your anguish can only be soothed by the Light of God. Seek the Guiding arms of the holy Mother." He clasps your hand and you are able finally to open your eyes and speak with choked sobs. "I-I-I'm I-I-I-Innocent! All I d-did was run an inn!" Father Jacob said firmly "Child, I am a servant of God, not the courts. Turn your heart to the world beyond and leave behind your sorrows in this fallen world."
Languishing in your prison cell your crumpled, whimpering form is far from the stoic daughter of the confederacy you were in the boardinghouse . You cell is dank, sparsely furnished with straw, a bowl and the indignity of a bucket for relieving oneself. The only allowance you have is a rocking-chair that Ana brought you but it is too painful a reminder of home today so you sit weeping on a pile of straw. You hate the smell, you hate the cavernous echo of bootsteps that remind you of the guards dominion over you, but most of all you hate that the only light shines that shines through is from the courtyard where they are constructing....you try to cancel out the image of the ghastly wooden contraption that invades your thoughts.
You have not been able to sleep because of the incessant sound of hammering and moving lumber that has come from the courtyard. "Hey lady, when they take you out you oughta do a curtsy an' thank those boys for workin' so hard for you! It ain't easy building a scaffold in this heat heheheheh..." one of the guards had jeered cruelly. You know that your lawyers are petitioning the court with a writ of habeas corpus but by know you are exhausted from countless updates, the stuffy jargon and the way they stammer and prattle on trying to reassure you. Just as you have resigned yourself to accept your fate you jump as you hear a knocking sound from outside followed by a clattering CRASH. "Did it fall apart?" you ask yourself as you peek through the cell window as your curiosity gets the best of you. Oh God no!
The sound you heard was the crash of a sprung trapdoor being tested. Four large sandbags dangle in the air, rocking like the pendulum of a clock. Your mouth is agape as you stare at the way they move back and forth, twisting and swaying. Like a flood the realization fills your soul: that noose will have your neck in it and your limp body will be swinging in the wind just like that sack. The Image is too much. You begin to sob hysterically. Not the weeping of deep sorrow like the day your verdict was delivered. No, you scream and wail like a little girl, terrified pleading to nothing in particular "NO nonononono NOOOOO!" Neither the sound bemused chuckling from the guards or the steps of Father Jacob and Widget entering register as you wail and clutch your dress. Father Jacob says "Hush child, pleading and crying like this can't help. Compose yourself and look to the Lord for guidance." Father Widget awkwardly stresses the limited time and the need for prayer and rites. The way he emphasizes the need to hurry before....(you can't bear to say it) only makes it worse and you collapse to the floor. Father Jacob kneels and consoles you with a gentle smile. "Your anguish can only be soothed by the Light of God. Seek the Guiding arms of the holy Mother." He clasps your hand and you are able finally to open your eyes and speak with choked sobs. "I-I-I'm I-I-I-Innocent! All I d-did was run an inn!" Father Jacob said firmly "Child, I am a servant of God, not the courts. Turn your heart to the world beyond and leave behind your sorrows in this fallen world."
Last view before you are pushed onto the trap door and strapped
No need for words
No need for words
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Imagine hearing the clatter as you drop through it. I wonderif you would hear your own neck pop as your journey down comes to an end?
As for Mary Surratt I love to imagine her feeling when officer-hangman kneeling before her and starting to wrap and to tie her hems around her legs. Amazingly terrifying and sexual.
Ah man, I’m really looking forward to Mary Surrat Part 2. Great work in P1.
unlisted video but those with link can see this lady does hanging role play
https://youtu.be/a6tGyPTcUoI
https://youtu.be/a6tGyPTcUoI
I think it would be worse to go through the trap and not hear your neck pop, especially if you're not hooded. Knowing you're going to die slowly, suffocating and kicking at the end of the rope... staring out at the crowd watching for you to die... fighting desperately to live but knowing it's futile...
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Forum > Public / General > How does it actually feel like to be executed by hanging?