Execution Tales Chapter 60
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60: PT moves to London
After collecting the letters from the Archbishop MG flew back to London. On her arrival there was an e-mail waiting for her from PT to say that her request for a move to London had been granted & that she would be in England in four weeks. Both girls were delighted with the news.
As they continued to correspond they scoured the world’s media news sites for cases where they could repeat the “Sisters of Mercy routine” that had worked so well in Botswana. In the meantime MG penned another story, this time adopting a more psychological imaginative approach, called “Imagining Being Hanged”
“Imagining Being Hanged”
Gabriel Davis was a tall slender pretty 21 year old brunette who was studying criminology at Bristol University. Her latest assignment was a paper on women & the death penalty in 20th Century Britain. She had selected this topic from the list of the options offered as the topic had always fascinated her. During her research she came across the 1928 case of Emma Waits who had been hanged for murder at Bristol jail.
Gabriel’s heartbeat quickened as she read up on the case. 21 year old Emma Waites had killed a local man in Bristol after he spurned her love. She immediately thought of Thomas Hardy’s “Tess of the D’Urbervilles”. The story was straightforward & tragic.
Having believed that this man would ask her to marry him she had become embittered when he had rejected her & proposed to another girl. On the pretence of needing some help with fixing the plumbing in her house she lured the lad to her house, stabbed him & left him to bleed to death. She had then gone to the main Bristol police station & confessed.
At the trial her lawyer had tried to argue that she had been temporarily insane, but this had not been accepted & she had been sentenced to death after three expert psychiatrists testified that she had been in full control of her faculties at the time of the murder, & had with malice aforethought, known & intended what she was doing
On a website devoted to these matters Gabriel found a grainy black & white photograph of Emma. It showed a young woman in a calf length white dress, smiling & pretty with dark brown shoulder length hair similar to her own obviously happy & carefree. The picture obviously predated the murder
As she sat in the University library looking at the photograph Gabriel became aware that underneath her short black skirt her white panties were beginning to moisten & that her braless nipples beneath her tight white top were hardening. As it was summer she was barelegged & she pressed her naked thighs together as she imagined how Emma had felt on that fateful morning & the days leading up to it. It must have been terrible, living with the slim hope that her appeal would be successful & she would be reprieved.
How had she reacted on the day the Prison Governor had entered her cell & dashed her last hope & told her that within a few days she was going to be hanged?
Had she slept the night before?
Had she been in a state of abject terror?
Had she fainted when she heard the footsteps approach the door to her cell & watched it open to allow the solemn hangman to enter?
Had she been semi-conscious as they came for her?
Had she had to be helped to her feet & supported as she was led to her death or had she been brave & walked upright proud & dignified to the gallows?
Had she calmly stood as the executioner had strapped her hands behind her back?
Had she averted her eyes as she entered the death chamber & was led to the rope or had she faced it looking at the noose bravely accepting her fate?
Gabriel imagined herself in Emma’s place dressed in clothes of an earlier age. Butterflies jittered in her stomach, her panties got increasingly wet & by now her nipples were rock hard.
She imagined how it would have felt to have her arms fixed at the wrists behind her to walk through the cell door that had been her home for the last few weeks of her life & into the death house.
Emma’s legs must have felt as if they were made of jelly as she saw the rope hanging in mid-air from the bar along the ceiling as her footsteps echoed across the floor of the death chamber knowing that below her was only a void into which she would fall & die
Gabriel could almost hear the quiet intoning of the chaplain at the doomed girl’s side.
She sat back in her library seat & imagined the pounding of Emma’s heart & visualized her ankles being pulled together by the hangman’s assistant kneeling behind her, tightening the strap around them, & feeling her legs being drawn even closer together as another strap was placed around her thighs to keep her skirt discreet.
She pictured Emma looking at the executioner as he drew the white hood from his pocket & pulled it down over the condemned girl’s head blanking out the world forever.
Gabriel closed her eyes & imagined feeling her breath hot & quick against the fabric of the cloth. Did Emma breathe quickly realizing her short life had only seconds left, forcing the fabric to push in & out?
Gabriel put her hands around her neck trying to mimic the feel of the rope being tightened around her throat.
She wondered what it would be like to listen to the noise of the handle being pulled by the hangman, the scrape of the bolt being released from its clasp, the trap doors dropping away beneath her.
What terror that would invoke Gabriel couldn’t truly imagine. The feeling of falling & knowing that the descent would only be stopped by the rope smashing into her neck from the side. She speculated if she would feel the horrible ghastly crack as the rope fractured her neck
That evening alone in her room Gabriel placed a pillow case over her head, tied a stocking round her neck, & bound her wrists loosely together in front of her with the other stocking. She lay down on her bed, lifted up her skirt & began to rub the crotch of her panties. Within two minutes she came as she had never come before
PT messaged MG on receiving the story, “Marvelous! I’m immediately going to put a pillow case over my head, tie some pantyhose round my neck go to bed & rub my pussy raw”
After collecting the letters from the Archbishop MG flew back to London. On her arrival there was an e-mail waiting for her from PT to say that her request for a move to London had been granted & that she would be in England in four weeks. Both girls were delighted with the news.
As they continued to correspond they scoured the world’s media news sites for cases where they could repeat the “Sisters of Mercy routine” that had worked so well in Botswana. In the meantime MG penned another story, this time adopting a more psychological imaginative approach, called “Imagining Being Hanged”
“Imagining Being Hanged”
Gabriel Davis was a tall slender pretty 21 year old brunette who was studying criminology at Bristol University. Her latest assignment was a paper on women & the death penalty in 20th Century Britain. She had selected this topic from the list of the options offered as the topic had always fascinated her. During her research she came across the 1928 case of Emma Waits who had been hanged for murder at Bristol jail.
Gabriel’s heartbeat quickened as she read up on the case. 21 year old Emma Waites had killed a local man in Bristol after he spurned her love. She immediately thought of Thomas Hardy’s “Tess of the D’Urbervilles”. The story was straightforward & tragic.
Having believed that this man would ask her to marry him she had become embittered when he had rejected her & proposed to another girl. On the pretence of needing some help with fixing the plumbing in her house she lured the lad to her house, stabbed him & left him to bleed to death. She had then gone to the main Bristol police station & confessed.
At the trial her lawyer had tried to argue that she had been temporarily insane, but this had not been accepted & she had been sentenced to death after three expert psychiatrists testified that she had been in full control of her faculties at the time of the murder, & had with malice aforethought, known & intended what she was doing
On a website devoted to these matters Gabriel found a grainy black & white photograph of Emma. It showed a young woman in a calf length white dress, smiling & pretty with dark brown shoulder length hair similar to her own obviously happy & carefree. The picture obviously predated the murder
As she sat in the University library looking at the photograph Gabriel became aware that underneath her short black skirt her white panties were beginning to moisten & that her braless nipples beneath her tight white top were hardening. As it was summer she was barelegged & she pressed her naked thighs together as she imagined how Emma had felt on that fateful morning & the days leading up to it. It must have been terrible, living with the slim hope that her appeal would be successful & she would be reprieved.
How had she reacted on the day the Prison Governor had entered her cell & dashed her last hope & told her that within a few days she was going to be hanged?
Had she slept the night before?
Had she been in a state of abject terror?
Had she fainted when she heard the footsteps approach the door to her cell & watched it open to allow the solemn hangman to enter?
Had she been semi-conscious as they came for her?
Had she had to be helped to her feet & supported as she was led to her death or had she been brave & walked upright proud & dignified to the gallows?
Had she calmly stood as the executioner had strapped her hands behind her back?
Had she averted her eyes as she entered the death chamber & was led to the rope or had she faced it looking at the noose bravely accepting her fate?
Gabriel imagined herself in Emma’s place dressed in clothes of an earlier age. Butterflies jittered in her stomach, her panties got increasingly wet & by now her nipples were rock hard.
She imagined how it would have felt to have her arms fixed at the wrists behind her to walk through the cell door that had been her home for the last few weeks of her life & into the death house.
Emma’s legs must have felt as if they were made of jelly as she saw the rope hanging in mid-air from the bar along the ceiling as her footsteps echoed across the floor of the death chamber knowing that below her was only a void into which she would fall & die
Gabriel could almost hear the quiet intoning of the chaplain at the doomed girl’s side.
She sat back in her library seat & imagined the pounding of Emma’s heart & visualized her ankles being pulled together by the hangman’s assistant kneeling behind her, tightening the strap around them, & feeling her legs being drawn even closer together as another strap was placed around her thighs to keep her skirt discreet.
She pictured Emma looking at the executioner as he drew the white hood from his pocket & pulled it down over the condemned girl’s head blanking out the world forever.
Gabriel closed her eyes & imagined feeling her breath hot & quick against the fabric of the cloth. Did Emma breathe quickly realizing her short life had only seconds left, forcing the fabric to push in & out?
Gabriel put her hands around her neck trying to mimic the feel of the rope being tightened around her throat.
She wondered what it would be like to listen to the noise of the handle being pulled by the hangman, the scrape of the bolt being released from its clasp, the trap doors dropping away beneath her.
What terror that would invoke Gabriel couldn’t truly imagine. The feeling of falling & knowing that the descent would only be stopped by the rope smashing into her neck from the side. She speculated if she would feel the horrible ghastly crack as the rope fractured her neck
That evening alone in her room Gabriel placed a pillow case over her head, tied a stocking round her neck, & bound her wrists loosely together in front of her with the other stocking. She lay down on her bed, lifted up her skirt & began to rub the crotch of her panties. Within two minutes she came as she had never come before
PT messaged MG on receiving the story, “Marvelous! I’m immediately going to put a pillow case over my head, tie some pantyhose round my neck go to bed & rub my pussy raw”
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>Gabriel imagined herself in Emma’s place dressed in clothes of an earlier age.
>Butterflies jittered in her stomach, her panties got increasingly wet & by now
>her nipples were rock hard.
I can feel her adrenaline racing...
(BTW, this was one of your best chapters.)
>Butterflies jittered in her stomach, her panties got increasingly wet & by now
>her nipples were rock hard.
I can feel her adrenaline racing...
(BTW, this was one of your best chapters.)
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