Execution Tales Chapter 55 Part 3
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An Iranian Hanging
The three young girls, none yet twenty, were trying to be brave. They have been condemned for prostitution & to drive the message home the authorities have dressed them in their working clothes of tight tops & miniskirts. The flat bed lorry carrying the girls stopped. The guards lifted the prisoners from their wooden seats & pushed them towards the open end of the lorry. They heard the bellowing of a tannoy, & realised that it was the same voice, hushed & musical then, that had sentenced them to death yesterday.
They stood at the edge of the bed of the lorry. There were people as far as they could see. A roar greeted the sight of the girls. The sound of the voices came at them like waves across shingle, repeating again & again. It was impossible to make out what was being shouted but the faces told them. The crowd were shouting their hatred & their pleasure at what was to happen to them. As far as they can see were faces of hate & faces of pleasure.
They couldn’t see the Mullah but they could hear the excitement in the shrillness of his voice. Hands reached up for them & they were lifted down from the lorry. The guards dragged them forward & men in uniform forced a passage clear ahead of them & then they saw the crane.
The crane was on a platform behind the cab of a truck which was parked outside the offices of the Revolutionary Guards. There was a heavy wooden table under the lowered arm of the crane. Three noosed ropes hung from the arm of the crane.
The prisoners are forced up onto the table their hands are tied behind their backs & the nooses placed round their necks. The girls cried quietly as the cardboard signs saying “I was a whore” are hung round their necks. They heard the Mullah’s voice above all of the others & suddenly there was silence.
The arm of the crane slowly rose lifting the girls up into the air. Those at the front of the crowd have an unobstructed view up the prisoners’ miniskirts. Two are wearing white panties & one pink. As they are hoisted up the girl’s begin to swing, convulsing & kicking as they slowly strangle to death. After five minutes it is over & the hanging prisoners’ sightless eyes stare out over the silent crowd. The bodies are left hanging above the street for the rest of the day as a reminder of what happens to those that flout Islamic Law
After writing An Iranian Hanging Alyssia was in desperate need of her battery powered little friend. After she had “Scratched her itch”, which gave her enormous satisfaction, she returned to her desk & started on her next piece of work. The idea for this one came from a book she had recently read, the name of which she couldn’t remember, which vividly described a hanging in 1970’s Turkey. Again she based one of the main characters on a TV personality
The three young girls, none yet twenty, were trying to be brave. They have been condemned for prostitution & to drive the message home the authorities have dressed them in their working clothes of tight tops & miniskirts. The flat bed lorry carrying the girls stopped. The guards lifted the prisoners from their wooden seats & pushed them towards the open end of the lorry. They heard the bellowing of a tannoy, & realised that it was the same voice, hushed & musical then, that had sentenced them to death yesterday.
They stood at the edge of the bed of the lorry. There were people as far as they could see. A roar greeted the sight of the girls. The sound of the voices came at them like waves across shingle, repeating again & again. It was impossible to make out what was being shouted but the faces told them. The crowd were shouting their hatred & their pleasure at what was to happen to them. As far as they can see were faces of hate & faces of pleasure.
They couldn’t see the Mullah but they could hear the excitement in the shrillness of his voice. Hands reached up for them & they were lifted down from the lorry. The guards dragged them forward & men in uniform forced a passage clear ahead of them & then they saw the crane.
The crane was on a platform behind the cab of a truck which was parked outside the offices of the Revolutionary Guards. There was a heavy wooden table under the lowered arm of the crane. Three noosed ropes hung from the arm of the crane.
The prisoners are forced up onto the table their hands are tied behind their backs & the nooses placed round their necks. The girls cried quietly as the cardboard signs saying “I was a whore” are hung round their necks. They heard the Mullah’s voice above all of the others & suddenly there was silence.
The arm of the crane slowly rose lifting the girls up into the air. Those at the front of the crowd have an unobstructed view up the prisoners’ miniskirts. Two are wearing white panties & one pink. As they are hoisted up the girl’s begin to swing, convulsing & kicking as they slowly strangle to death. After five minutes it is over & the hanging prisoners’ sightless eyes stare out over the silent crowd. The bodies are left hanging above the street for the rest of the day as a reminder of what happens to those that flout Islamic Law
After writing An Iranian Hanging Alyssia was in desperate need of her battery powered little friend. After she had “Scratched her itch”, which gave her enormous satisfaction, she returned to her desk & started on her next piece of work. The idea for this one came from a book she had recently read, the name of which she couldn’t remember, which vividly described a hanging in 1970’s Turkey. Again she based one of the main characters on a TV personality
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A Turkish Execution
“Why have you brought us here?”. Asked Jenny. “A murderess is to be hanged”, replied Soraya. “I think you will find it educational”, she continued. Soraya paid the taxi driver & both girls moved towards the center of the town square. Jenny, taller than most of the gathering crowd, looked over their heads. She stared fascinated at the scaffold, which consisted of three long poles arranged in a tripod. The scaffold was bathed in floodlights. “The idam sehpasi” Soraya pointed at the scaffold “Or the three feet for the condemnation to death”. The place of execution was surrounded by soldiers & police. Soraya took a firm hold of Jenny’s wrist & led her close to the center of the square.
The condemned girl, hands cuffed behind her back, dressed in prison issue short denim skirt & white top was led from the back of a police van towards the scaffold. She seemed to be very young, no more than twenty. When she saw the waiting noose dangling from the scaffold tripod she started to struggle & scream for mercy. Her long black hair flew backwards & forwards as she shook her head sobbing “No! No! Please No!” Soraya said to Jenny “Now if you could understand Turkish you would be able to read the placard which they have hung round the prisoner’s neck. It says “For the murder of my husband I am to be hanged” .
The doomed girl was dragged to the tripod scaffold. The hangman’s movements were practiced & smooth. He slipped the noose over the prisoner’s head, pulling the knot round to the back. He then helped the trembling girl up onto the stool pulling the rope taut. There was absolute silence in the square apart from the sobbing of the condemned prisoner.
Jenny gripped Soraya’s hand tightly. The Turkish girl looked at Jenny’s face & smiled. Her English lover stared transfixed at the girl on the scaffold, she bit her lip very aware of the increasing dampness in her panties under her skirt. Soraya too was beginning to feel the effects of arousal in her groin, as she always did, when watching hangings, especially of young girls.
When everything is ready to his satisfaction the hangman kicks the stool vigorously, it topples over & the prisoner jerks. Initially she hangs still then she starts to kick. It is as if she is riding an invisible bicycle as her legs move steadily up & down. Jenny gasps as she sees the white vee of the dying girl’s panties as the movement of her legs pushes up her short denim skirt. It takes five minutes for the girl on the rope to die & by the time she hangs still Jenny & Soraya are both highly aroused.
Soraya whispered in Jenny’s ear “Come on Jenny the show is over. Let’s go home & make love”. Her face flushed Jenny looked at the Turkish girl & smiled, “You really are an evil bitch Soraya. You knew what seeing the hanging would do to me didn’t you”. Soraya smiled back & nodded her head”. I made an educated guess my love”. They both laughed & arm in arm began to walk home
“Why have you brought us here?”. Asked Jenny. “A murderess is to be hanged”, replied Soraya. “I think you will find it educational”, she continued. Soraya paid the taxi driver & both girls moved towards the center of the town square. Jenny, taller than most of the gathering crowd, looked over their heads. She stared fascinated at the scaffold, which consisted of three long poles arranged in a tripod. The scaffold was bathed in floodlights. “The idam sehpasi” Soraya pointed at the scaffold “Or the three feet for the condemnation to death”. The place of execution was surrounded by soldiers & police. Soraya took a firm hold of Jenny’s wrist & led her close to the center of the square.
The condemned girl, hands cuffed behind her back, dressed in prison issue short denim skirt & white top was led from the back of a police van towards the scaffold. She seemed to be very young, no more than twenty. When she saw the waiting noose dangling from the scaffold tripod she started to struggle & scream for mercy. Her long black hair flew backwards & forwards as she shook her head sobbing “No! No! Please No!” Soraya said to Jenny “Now if you could understand Turkish you would be able to read the placard which they have hung round the prisoner’s neck. It says “For the murder of my husband I am to be hanged” .
The doomed girl was dragged to the tripod scaffold. The hangman’s movements were practiced & smooth. He slipped the noose over the prisoner’s head, pulling the knot round to the back. He then helped the trembling girl up onto the stool pulling the rope taut. There was absolute silence in the square apart from the sobbing of the condemned prisoner.
Jenny gripped Soraya’s hand tightly. The Turkish girl looked at Jenny’s face & smiled. Her English lover stared transfixed at the girl on the scaffold, she bit her lip very aware of the increasing dampness in her panties under her skirt. Soraya too was beginning to feel the effects of arousal in her groin, as she always did, when watching hangings, especially of young girls.
When everything is ready to his satisfaction the hangman kicks the stool vigorously, it topples over & the prisoner jerks. Initially she hangs still then she starts to kick. It is as if she is riding an invisible bicycle as her legs move steadily up & down. Jenny gasps as she sees the white vee of the dying girl’s panties as the movement of her legs pushes up her short denim skirt. It takes five minutes for the girl on the rope to die & by the time she hangs still Jenny & Soraya are both highly aroused.
Soraya whispered in Jenny’s ear “Come on Jenny the show is over. Let’s go home & make love”. Her face flushed Jenny looked at the Turkish girl & smiled, “You really are an evil bitch Soraya. You knew what seeing the hanging would do to me didn’t you”. Soraya smiled back & nodded her head”. I made an educated guess my love”. They both laughed & arm in arm began to walk home
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The central figure in Alssyia’s next story was based on one of her favourite British film stars who had been at the peak of her career in the late 1960’s & the 1970’s
The Execution of Susan Gerard
By 11.45am it became evident that there would be no phone call from the Prime Minister. Susan Gerard now knew that in in less than fifteen minutes she would be executed for treason. Her body trembled with fear, her stomach churned at the thought of hanging in public & her hands instinctively went to the column of her lovely slim white neck. Susan was terrified of dying & the humiliation of being put to death in a public place added to her horror.
As the van pulled into the city square there were shouts of excitement from the crowd outside, people from all over were there to witness her execution. Susan couldn’t bear to look at their faces as she was escorted out of the van, she gazed off into the distance as the insults & taunts were hurled at her
Susan Gerard’s last request was that she be allowed to wear make-up & the white silk blouse & short flared black velvet skirt she had on the night she was arrested. In her most desperate hour her vanity was still ever present. “If I’m going to die, I’m going to die looking like a lady” she thought. When she walked up the steps of the gallows, the cold October wind whipped through her long blonde hair & tossed her short skirt up around her thighs revealing her sexy nylon clad legs almost up to her pink panties.
She was in too much shock to realize her still young shapely body was being showcased to the crowd. Once Susan saw the noose her knees weakened & she began to stumble in her high heels. Immediately the two guards gripped her by each shoulder & led her to the edge of the scaffold. Her eyes remained fixed on the noose.
The guards pulled Susan’s arms behind her back & bound her wrists together. She tugged nervously at the tight leather strap that held her hands resting securely against her firm buttocks. Her body was now paralyzed with fear as the guards kneeled down & strapped her knees tightly against each other.
Then the moment she fears most arrived as one of the guards lowered the noose & placed it snugly round her neck. “Please don’t I get a hood?”, she begged as she looked down at the frenzied crowd, “I’m sorry Miss Gerard”, says one of the guards as he pulled the noose tighter & stepped back leaving her alone, helpless & trembling. Susan then heard a man say “Proceed” She shrieked “Please don’t kill me! I don’t want to die!”
She hears a lever pull & the wooden floor under feet gives way. As she feels herself begin to drop she screams “Noooooooh!” Her short black skirt rises up around her waist as she falls giving the crowd a wonderful view of her pink panties. Her cry is cut off as the rope jerks her head forward crushing her windpipe. Her body bounces in mid- air as her high heels fly off into the crowd. Susan’s breasts heave as she desperately tries to breathe. Her chin presses against her chest, her eyes bulge from their sockets & her swollen tongue pushes out between her lips.
The crowd has fallen silent as they watch Susan’s agonizing struggle for life. Her legs strapped together at the knees kick up & down at times to her waist exposing her pink panties several more times. By now her face is almost beetroot red & her eyes glaze over, her twitching body soon becomes motionless twisting in the autumn breeze
The Execution of Susan Gerard
By 11.45am it became evident that there would be no phone call from the Prime Minister. Susan Gerard now knew that in in less than fifteen minutes she would be executed for treason. Her body trembled with fear, her stomach churned at the thought of hanging in public & her hands instinctively went to the column of her lovely slim white neck. Susan was terrified of dying & the humiliation of being put to death in a public place added to her horror.
As the van pulled into the city square there were shouts of excitement from the crowd outside, people from all over were there to witness her execution. Susan couldn’t bear to look at their faces as she was escorted out of the van, she gazed off into the distance as the insults & taunts were hurled at her
Susan Gerard’s last request was that she be allowed to wear make-up & the white silk blouse & short flared black velvet skirt she had on the night she was arrested. In her most desperate hour her vanity was still ever present. “If I’m going to die, I’m going to die looking like a lady” she thought. When she walked up the steps of the gallows, the cold October wind whipped through her long blonde hair & tossed her short skirt up around her thighs revealing her sexy nylon clad legs almost up to her pink panties.
She was in too much shock to realize her still young shapely body was being showcased to the crowd. Once Susan saw the noose her knees weakened & she began to stumble in her high heels. Immediately the two guards gripped her by each shoulder & led her to the edge of the scaffold. Her eyes remained fixed on the noose.
The guards pulled Susan’s arms behind her back & bound her wrists together. She tugged nervously at the tight leather strap that held her hands resting securely against her firm buttocks. Her body was now paralyzed with fear as the guards kneeled down & strapped her knees tightly against each other.
Then the moment she fears most arrived as one of the guards lowered the noose & placed it snugly round her neck. “Please don’t I get a hood?”, she begged as she looked down at the frenzied crowd, “I’m sorry Miss Gerard”, says one of the guards as he pulled the noose tighter & stepped back leaving her alone, helpless & trembling. Susan then heard a man say “Proceed” She shrieked “Please don’t kill me! I don’t want to die!”
She hears a lever pull & the wooden floor under feet gives way. As she feels herself begin to drop she screams “Noooooooh!” Her short black skirt rises up around her waist as she falls giving the crowd a wonderful view of her pink panties. Her cry is cut off as the rope jerks her head forward crushing her windpipe. Her body bounces in mid- air as her high heels fly off into the crowd. Susan’s breasts heave as she desperately tries to breathe. Her chin presses against her chest, her eyes bulge from their sockets & her swollen tongue pushes out between her lips.
The crowd has fallen silent as they watch Susan’s agonizing struggle for life. Her legs strapped together at the knees kick up & down at times to her waist exposing her pink panties several more times. By now her face is almost beetroot red & her eyes glaze over, her twitching body soon becomes motionless twisting in the autumn breeze
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The Murderess in Ayssia’s next tale was inspired by a TV villainess in a 1980’s TV Science Fiction series she had come across on You Tube
The Murderess
The dull roar of conversation stilled abruptly as the great double door of the chamber opened. The murderess Jacqueline Pearce stepped into the court room. Guards walked behind her almost like minions, as she made her way up the aisle. A tall but svelte woman her long strides opened the slit in her skirt revealing taut nyloned thighs to the spectators. The sound of her heels clicking was loud on the polished hardwood floor.
Jacqueline stopped at the defence table, next to her attorney. She barely spared him a sideways glance as she took her seat. After all he had been of little use. She had been convicted of 1st degree murder hadn’t she?
Moments later the Judge entered. Everyone rose & remained standing in silence till he was seated. The sharp crack of his gavel opened the session. He looked down at Jacqueline. “Will the defendant please rise”. Jacqueline slid her chair back & stood. Her knees were a little shaky but she knew what was coming & had steeled herself for it. The judge continued, “Jacqueline Pearce you have been convicted by a jury of your peers of murder in the 1st degree. Do you have anything to say before sentence is pronounced?”.
Jacqueline replied defiantly “I didn’t do anything that most in this room wouldn’t have done in the same circumstance. “Very well Ms Pearce the court hereby condemns you to hang by the neck until you are dead”. The room erupted in excited conversation. The judge hammered his gavel to restore order but it took several minutes for the crowd to calm down. Jacqueline barely reacted to the condemnation. Finally the judge said, “The sentence will be carried out immediately on the scaffold at the country prison. Another outburst. As the judge rapped his gavel the guards moved in on Jacqueline.
It was only a short car journey from the court to the prison. Once inside the gates the squad car containing Jacqueline was directed to the prison yard where the gallows stood. The witnesses’ cars following were motioned to a nearby parking lot. The squad car stopped a few yards from the wooden scaffold. The guards & their prisoner got out of the car. A warm breeze ruffles Jacqueline’s short black hair & her skirt flutters in the soft wind.
She had to wait as the witnesses slowly trickled into the yard. Jacqueline tried to keep her eyes straight ahead. There was nothing to be gained by eyeing the witnesses or looking up at the noose she will shortly be swinging from. Once all the spectators were in place two men emerged from a nearby door. One, the hangman, has on a black hood. The other is the warden & he held the death warrant in his hand. He looked at the prisoner
“Jacqueline Pearce you have been convicted of murder in the 1st degree & sentenced to hang by the neck until dead”. The guards took her elbows & led her to the gallows & up the steps. When they reached the platform the men placed her on the trap. The hangman brought her wrists behind her back & bound them tight with a leather thong.
“Ms Pearce, do you have any last words before sentence is carried out”, the warden asks. She shook her head. Jacqueline trembled as the hood was lowered over her face. When she felt the rope tight around her neck panic rose in her chest, she started to shake violently. The hangman steps back “Trap!” the warden calls.
The trap opens with a loud bang. Jacqueline falls only a foot as intended. The rope jerks taut & her body takes a half-turn to the right & then swings back. High pitched choking sounds begin to come from under the hood. Her sleek legs begin to kick causing her skirt to rise up giving the appreciative crowd glimpses of the white panties under her hose. Her heels slide of her slippery stockinged feet. The rope creaks as Jacqueline dances.
Trapped air in her lungs make her already ample breasts swell outwards. Her fingers claw the air in mute expression of her agony. She gasps, gurgles & squirms fighting for air she can’t get. Jacqueline is a strong woman & her struggles continue for just over seven minutes. Finally, finally her movements slow. There are no more pathetic sounds from under the hood. She swings in the warm wind, the sun shimmering on her expensive hose. It is over
The Murderess
The dull roar of conversation stilled abruptly as the great double door of the chamber opened. The murderess Jacqueline Pearce stepped into the court room. Guards walked behind her almost like minions, as she made her way up the aisle. A tall but svelte woman her long strides opened the slit in her skirt revealing taut nyloned thighs to the spectators. The sound of her heels clicking was loud on the polished hardwood floor.
Jacqueline stopped at the defence table, next to her attorney. She barely spared him a sideways glance as she took her seat. After all he had been of little use. She had been convicted of 1st degree murder hadn’t she?
Moments later the Judge entered. Everyone rose & remained standing in silence till he was seated. The sharp crack of his gavel opened the session. He looked down at Jacqueline. “Will the defendant please rise”. Jacqueline slid her chair back & stood. Her knees were a little shaky but she knew what was coming & had steeled herself for it. The judge continued, “Jacqueline Pearce you have been convicted by a jury of your peers of murder in the 1st degree. Do you have anything to say before sentence is pronounced?”.
Jacqueline replied defiantly “I didn’t do anything that most in this room wouldn’t have done in the same circumstance. “Very well Ms Pearce the court hereby condemns you to hang by the neck until you are dead”. The room erupted in excited conversation. The judge hammered his gavel to restore order but it took several minutes for the crowd to calm down. Jacqueline barely reacted to the condemnation. Finally the judge said, “The sentence will be carried out immediately on the scaffold at the country prison. Another outburst. As the judge rapped his gavel the guards moved in on Jacqueline.
It was only a short car journey from the court to the prison. Once inside the gates the squad car containing Jacqueline was directed to the prison yard where the gallows stood. The witnesses’ cars following were motioned to a nearby parking lot. The squad car stopped a few yards from the wooden scaffold. The guards & their prisoner got out of the car. A warm breeze ruffles Jacqueline’s short black hair & her skirt flutters in the soft wind.
She had to wait as the witnesses slowly trickled into the yard. Jacqueline tried to keep her eyes straight ahead. There was nothing to be gained by eyeing the witnesses or looking up at the noose she will shortly be swinging from. Once all the spectators were in place two men emerged from a nearby door. One, the hangman, has on a black hood. The other is the warden & he held the death warrant in his hand. He looked at the prisoner
“Jacqueline Pearce you have been convicted of murder in the 1st degree & sentenced to hang by the neck until dead”. The guards took her elbows & led her to the gallows & up the steps. When they reached the platform the men placed her on the trap. The hangman brought her wrists behind her back & bound them tight with a leather thong.
“Ms Pearce, do you have any last words before sentence is carried out”, the warden asks. She shook her head. Jacqueline trembled as the hood was lowered over her face. When she felt the rope tight around her neck panic rose in her chest, she started to shake violently. The hangman steps back “Trap!” the warden calls.
The trap opens with a loud bang. Jacqueline falls only a foot as intended. The rope jerks taut & her body takes a half-turn to the right & then swings back. High pitched choking sounds begin to come from under the hood. Her sleek legs begin to kick causing her skirt to rise up giving the appreciative crowd glimpses of the white panties under her hose. Her heels slide of her slippery stockinged feet. The rope creaks as Jacqueline dances.
Trapped air in her lungs make her already ample breasts swell outwards. Her fingers claw the air in mute expression of her agony. She gasps, gurgles & squirms fighting for air she can’t get. Jacqueline is a strong woman & her struggles continue for just over seven minutes. Finally, finally her movements slow. There are no more pathetic sounds from under the hood. She swings in the warm wind, the sun shimmering on her expensive hose. It is over
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Forum > Public / Stories > Execution Tales Chapter 55 Part 3