Before you start reading this article let me tell you that I am not the author... I found this on an old blog. But I wanted to share it with you people.

Michelle was not prepared for the process of facing her own execution. The shear feeling of helplessness and defeat that filled her heart simultaneously with feelings of rage and bitterness. The anger she felt grew stronger and stronger as the inevitability of her end became solidified. Six months prior, Michelle had murdered an ex-boyfriend and his new consort. In the fit of rage that caused her to commit the crime, she had been careless. As a result, Michelle's trial had been quick and she soon ended up where she was now: in her cell, sitting on her bed, wearing a black bodybriefer and a blue bathrobe, waiting for the guards to escort her to the shower. The shower was the first step in a series that preceded the execution. Afterward, she would be given time to dress and make herself presentable for the small audience that would watch her expire. Next was the waiting room, and then the last few steps to the execution chamber itself. After that, her life was minutes away from being over, her heart minutes away from its final beat, and her lungs minutes away from their final breath.



Michelle was scheduled to be put to death by way of lethal injection. She would first be given a strong anesthetic to render her deeply unconscious, and then a chemical would be injected to end her breathing, and a third chemical would bring her heart to a stop. Michelle was thoroughly uncomfortable, despite the comforting choice of attire on this morning before her execution. She kept trying to relax her body, to loosen some of the tension that was all throughout, but she couldn't do it. The intensity in her body was building. Her blood pressure was climbing with every hour. The combination of fear and anger that was growing within her would not let up.



During her late adolescent years and into her early twenties, Michelle had become intrigued with BDSM. She had developed a keen sense that allowed her to always know what her partner was seeking. Usually, Michelle ended up dominating her partner, controlling him fully, while he just lay there taking it in. Michelle would tantalize her partner, be it a man or a woman, and even the most dominant-inclined prey were always eventually subdued by her snake-like persistence. She could be vicious or soothing. Her partner would try everything to get on top, but she would never let them win. Michelle would always take control. She knew what it truly meant to be subdued by a dominator or dominatrix. The mere thought of being owned both physically and mentally by someone else was a privilege she was not keen to allow anyone to have. Whoever would ultimately dominate her, Michelle believed, had to earn the right. She had always figured the time would come, and she knew that she would have absolutely no control when it did. Now, Michelle was there. Now, she had been topped not by a man or woman, but by the law. Somewhere deep within her the anger simmered, ready to explode like a volcanic eruption. A pyroclastic cloud of invective and obscenity seemed to be surging exponentially as the clock ticked away her final hours. Michelle had been allowed to wear whatever she wanted during her prison stay, and had spent the last few days enjoying her various dresses and leather outfits she had acquired over the years. She kept them in a special box that was going to be given to someone close to her. With each outfit, Michelle was reminded of the dominance she had exercised without challenge or question, and with each memory, her inner fury grew. Now, all she had left was her blue robe, her body briefer, a brown skirt, and a black v-neck spaghetti strap shirt which she would wear during her execution. She was out of time.



Michelle got up and made sure her skirt and black top were laid out and ready. Maybe, it would keep her mind briefly off of the impending execution. Michelle looked at the shirt. She had worn it many times and she always felt both comfortable and sexy when she wore it. She allowed her mind to wander. Michelle imagined herself wearing it while walking to the chamber. Her mind then wandered to the sight of her lying on the gurney, at first alive, fully aware of her body and the her surroundings. Soon, though, Michelle's thoughts turned to her lying still, in repose, as the sheet was pulled over her newly deceased body. She could see clearly the doctor signing the death certificate and her body being wheeled out into the hearse. Michelle suddenly realized what she was imagining and snapped herself out of it. Just as her vision was interrupted, Laura, the head matron in charge of Michelle came by the cell. "Hey, we're waiting for them to give the go ahead to bring you to the shower." Michelle looked at her with a mix of indignation and despair, then turned her head back, away from Laura. "How are you doing, sweetie?"



Michelle whirled around in a fury. "Stop fucking calling me sweetie'!" Her face was a picture of indignation and immense anger. Laura had continued to call Michelle 'sweetie,' despite Michelle's remarkably controlled requests that she not do so. The matron started to speak but restrained herself and closed her mouth while tilting her head back in a patronizing and composed stare. "I FUCKING SWEAR TO GOD, I WILL SMASH YOUR GODDAMNED FACE SO HARD...." Michelle started to lunge at the matron, throwing her arms up. She was serious. The guards grabbed her. It took all of them to keep Michelle from making good her threat. Arms flailing and her legs pumping to free herself, it was all the guards could do to restrain her.



"GET THE OTHERS IN HERE," shouted one of the guards. Three more jogged into the cell moments later. Michelle was still fighting desperately to free herself from the men. By now, a few of them had been bruised. She'd managed to land a well-aimed punch on the nose of one, causing his nose to bleed.



"I'M GONNA FUCK YOU UP SO BAD!" Michelle screamed and shouted, her face the picture of unrelenting fury, the likes of which had never been seen by the guards or the matron this close to the execution

time. The matron was clearly frightened.



"Michelle, calm down. Sit down and stay away from her," ordered one of the senior guards to no avail. Finally, unable to keep the fight up, Michelle stopped kicking and ceased her resistance. She did, however, continue to glare menacingly with wild ferocious eyes at Laura. It certainly had the desired effect. Laura's heart was pounding, and she'd backed up all the way to the corner of the cell. There was little doubt in Laura's mind that, had the guards not reacted sooner, Michelle would have probably followed through. Michelle panted deeply, and between breaths she cursed Laura and swore. Finally, letting the guards pull her back, Michelle uttered "You are fucking dead. The minute you walk out of this prison, my family will fucking kill you and cut your fucking head off!" Laura waited as the guards pulled Michelle back and forced her to sit on her bunk. The well-groomed matron attempted to feign composure as she collected her thoughts. After a few minutes, as Michelle sat hunched over on the bed, seething, Laura cautiously moved forward.



"Michelle, you need to relax," said Laura, maintaining her condescending tone . "This is the time right now where you need to focus on just getting through the next few hours and not let yourself get too out of hand."



Michelle turned toward the matron and glared. "I may as well just take you with me," Michelle sneared. "Right now you might be whore-in-denial for that fucking warden, but before you know it you're gonna be right where I am." Michelle's face was turning red. The guards were not going to leave her.



"Sweetie, you need to not think about those things. Here, lie down," Laura responded. Michelle turned her gaze down at Laura's hand, and then looked back up at Laura's eyes, piercing Laura with her eye contact.



"What do you think I am, bitch?"



"Shhhhh," hushed the gorgeous blonde matron, "Michelle, you need to calm down."



"Do you want a tranquilizer before you go?" Michelle's head turned slowly this time, and she pierced Laura with her gaze. Unexpectedly, Michelle turned her eyebrows up and neutralized her face.



"Fine," she replied simply.



"Do you think you can control yourself so that we can let these other guys go do what they need to do?" With the same poise as she had mustered a few seconds before, Michelle returned her stare toward Laura, her face the same picture of benign stoicism.



"I do." The two words simply ejected from her mouth, without any hint of what lay behind them. Michelle smiled inside herself. 'This stupid fucking matron, she has no idea,' Michelle thought.



"Alright, you guys can go, Ron, can you go get the tranquilizer?" Ron, one of the stronger guards, hurried off to retrieve the injector. Laura continued, "Mike, do you think you can handle her if necessary?"



"Yeah I can,....hey Ron and Steve, you guys stay on alert in case I call you for assistance," he yelled down the hallway. This was exactly what Michelle wanted. Her intelligence was far superior to the combined intelligence of the guards and even the idiotic matron who had been assigned to supervise Michelle prior to the execution.

Slightly perturbed, Laura put her hand on Michelle's back and gently pushed her forward toward the hallway that led to the shower room. "Alright, that's fine, but let me know if you change your mind," she responded.



"I'm not going to change my mind," Michelle replied, testily. As they started toward the shower, Michelle looked back at the cell she had occupied. She had come to know it well, and as it disappeared from view, reality hit her once again. She knew this was the end. Once in the shower room she removed her robe. Her body was beautifully shaped in the black bodybriefer she wore. Laura and the other matrons helped her take the briefer off. Once Michelle had removed her glasses, she stepped into the shower. It was already steamy and the water was wonderfully hot. She was given a generous hour to wash herself. Sitting in the chair that had been placed in the stall, she tried to regain her composure. In the comfort of the steaming shower, she let the water wash over her shoulders and her torso and legs. Michelle closed her eyes and began breathing deeply. She was ready. She couldn't get rid of her anger, but she could carry herself with dignity. Michelle's hair was not quite shoulder length. Sometimes it was bright red. Sometimes it was brown. Sometimes it was magenta. Michelle looked down at her breasts. They had won her many nights of indulgence, and many satisfied men. She had chosen to wear the black shirt she had because it accentuated their shape. The water ran down her chest and she felt her breasts. 'Goodbye girls,' she thought, 'we had a lot of good times.' She continued letting the steamy shower calm her nerves while she closed her eyes and breathed. The sensation of the warm water on her breasts was most wonderful. Finally, it was time to get out of the shower. The shower room was heated and steamy, allowing her to dry off in comfort. After she dried off, Michelle wrapped herself in her robe and stepped out. The black shirt and the brown skirt were laid out and ready for her to wear. She took off her robe, put on her underwear, and put on her skirt. Michelle then put on her shirt. She adjusted it so that it fit beautifully and comfortably over her body. Michelle looked in the mirror and made sure her breasts were as beautiful as they could be. After brushing her hair and putting on makeup, Michelle nervously indicated that she was ready.



Laura kept a hand on Michelle's back while four prison guards walked behind and beside Michelle. They escorted her to the waiting room just outside the execution chamber. Michelle tried to fathom the reality of the situation. There was no going back. That was the last shower she would ever take. This was the last time she would ever wear her sexy black shirt. Every step she took in this hallway was a step closer to her end. Finally, after what seemed like a walk of eternity, Michelle and her entourage entered the waiting room. It was a spartan chamber with a sofa and a few plastic chairs. Michelle and Laura sat on the sofa while two of the guards stood at either doorway and the other two took a seat. Another woman entered, wearing a white jacket. Michelle knew instantly who she was. She was the physician who would pronounce Michelle dead and who would sign the death certificate. This was truly it, Michelle realized. "How are you doing, Michelle?"



Turningt toward Laura, Michelle answered quietly, "I'm ok." Michelle bent down and rested her head in her hands while her arms rested on her legs. Laura could see that she was focusing on her breathing. "Goddamnit, how did this happen? They just want to see me dead," Michelle stated angrily. "They just want to see me strapped down and helpless while they get to go on with their stupid little lives!"



"Shhhhh, sweetie, just relax and keep breathing," intoned Laura, gently rubbing Michelle's back. Normally Michelle would have fought off this contact, but as she realized more and more that everything was out of her control, she let it go. Just having the human touch on her back helped her feel slightly better. The v-line over her chest was deep and her body was full. Finally the door to the execution chamber opened. A guard Michelle didn't recognize indicated that they were ready for her. "Ok, Michelle, it's time to go," Laura quietly urged. Michelle stood up slowly, still looking at the floor. Laura placed her hands around Michelle's body. She looked up and began to walk forward through the door.



Passing through the door, Michelle surveyed the execution room. Beyond the witness window, she could see the family of her victims. They seemed to be scowling at her. Michelle was not going to let them have an easy victory, she was going to remain tense, and she would scowl back. She stared down each one of the witnesses, giving them a defiant look. In the chamber were two more guards and a priest. Michelle stopped when she saw the priest. She despised religion, and she had even requested that there not be a member of the clergy present. She was taken aback by the thought of the prison being so disregarding of her wishes. Michelle stopped and looked at Laura with a frustrated, confused look. "Michelle, just keep going," the matron urged. Eventually, she continued, finishing the remaining few feet to the gurney. The gurney was a moveable one with straps attached to it. It had a soft, pure-white matress which could be adjusted so that the upper body section was angled upward according to the inmate's wishes. At the foot of the gurney there was a folded white sheet. Michelle knew what it was for. She tried not to think about it. Without assistance, Michelle lay down on the gurney and adjusted her body so that it was symmetrical and the straps were properly aligned. The guards then began strapping Michelle in. First they strapped her ankles and wrists down securely. The restraints weren't uncomfortable, just tight. Next the guards began strapping her legs and arms down, moving up her body. A large strap was placed over her diaphragm, just below her breasts, which were full and pointed straight toward the ceiling. Michelle looked up at the ceiling and tried not to think about where she was. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. The room was bare except for the gurney, a small booth which contained the execution equipment, and a bright circular light on the ceiling, directly above the gurney. Please She breathed deeply and quickly. A look of anger and nervousness came across her face. She wanted all those watching to see her defiant, not scared and submissive.



"Shhhhh, Michelle, just breathe and close your eyes if you need to," whispered Laura, bending down close to Michelle's head. Finally, the straps were secure and the IV had been inserted into Michelle's arm. A saline solution was flowing into her veins. The warden then began his required announcement.



"Michelle Buch, this is a properly signed and authorized order of execution for the date of November 4th, 2008 at the time of 12 o'clock noon. You have been found guilty and the jury has authorized the sentence of death to be carried out by means of lethal injection until such time as you are pronounced dead by the authorized physician. Do you have a final statement?"



Michelle had grown increasingly tense and angered during the warden's announcement, and the anger showed on her face. Every muscle in her body was filled with tension. "I have nothing to say," she responded tersely.



"Very well, Reverend Daniel Leighton, if you could please begin the prayer," the warden requested. The priest stepped forward.



"Lord, we ask that you keep Michelle and lead her to your infinite forgiveness. It is not through sin that we are condemned, but through your eternal love that we are forgiven so that we may share in your kingdom. Lord, please guide Michelle on the journey on which she is about to depart. We pray with all our hearts that you will lead her to your glory so that she too may share in your eternal life. Amen."



"The execution will now begin at this time," stated the warden blankly. Michelle looked down at the needle. The liquid in it changed color slightly. This was it. These were the final moments. She didn't have days to live, or hours, she had minutes, maybe only seconds. She focused on her breathing. Her heart was pounding even harder now, and she was fighting to stay calm. She fought against the straps, though not enough to cause alarm. She simply tried to pull against them. Her breasts moved up and down with her breathing.



Finally, she began to feel the barbiturate take effect. Michelle could feel herself beginning to relax. The light above her began to get misty and it started to swirl slightly. Then something caused Michelle to realize what she had been missing all along: she may be defeated, but at least she was getting something she always enjoyed out of the experience - she was strapped down. The straps were tight against her legs and arms and torso. She looked down at her feet one last time. They were soft, white, and beautiful. Between them, she could see her two beautiful breasts. They would stay with her all the way. She looked back up at the ceiling. The feeling of being restrained was truly wonderful! She turned her head to the audience, gave them one last defiant look, and looked back up. Inhaling deeply, Michelle spoke her final words calmly yet with all the certainty she had maintained even in anger. "You're all a bunch of fucking slaves!"



Seconds later, Michelle's body relaxed completely. All the anger, all the hatred, all the fear, all the evil was suddenly released. It was released from her body, her mind, and her heart. Michelle was defeated. She had been bound and in the ecstasy of the straps that restrained her, she had come to her defeat and relaxed. Her eyes calmly drifted half-closed, her jaw relaxed, and her mouth opened. Michelle's breathing became deep, calm, and rhythmic. Her world went blank and her thoughts ceased. The remaining two chemicals were injected. Her breathing grew lighter and lighter until it finally stopped. She let out one final deep exhalation. Her chest swelled and settled one last time. The beautiful black shirt she wore drew a deep v over her chest. Michelle was naturally quite pale, and her body grew only more pale with every minute of the execution. Three minutes elapsed after her final breath was observed and the doctor then came forward. Placing her middle and fore fingers on Michelle's neck, she felt for a pulse. There was none. She then took the stethoscope and placed it gently on Michelle's chest, just inside her right breast. There was no sound of breathing. Michelle's eyes, half-closed, still stared at the ceiling blankly while her mouth hung open. She had a deeply relaxed appearance. There was no movement whatsoever from her body. The physician then called out the time. "12:07," she said abruptly.



The warden turned to the audience. "At approximately 12:07 p.m. on November 4th, 2008, Michelle Buch was pronounced and certified dead by the state appointed physician. The viewing audience is now permitted to leave quietly." As he finished his statement, the guards began unstrapping Michelle's body. The physician opened both of Michelle's eyes fully. They stared straight ahead, defiant but calm. Her feet had relaxed and angled down toward the end of the bed gently. Laura came over and gently stroked Michelle's head.



"You did really well, sweetie," she said gently. For the first time, Laura felt Michelle in a truly relaxed state. Laura gently closed Michelle's eyes while the physician signed the death certificate. The matron then soothingly rubbed Michelle's forehead with her finger and then drew it down the center of the body. Running her finger along Michelle's nose, she moved it past her throat and down to the top of her chest. Upon reaching the area of Michelle's heart, now still, Laura gently caressed her chest. Laura smiled quietly to herself. "You really are beautiful," she said almost silently so that only she could hear it. Laura then caressed Michelle's legs and feet calmly. She knew Michelle would never feel the massage and the caressing hands. She knew Michelle was locked away in a world of silence. Michelle had allowed herself to be bound, and it had brought her to permanent rest. Laura was in charge of passing the body on to the relevant individuals. In this case, Michelle's family had requested that her body be delivered to a specified funeral home for preparation. Michelle lay there in serene glory. Her pale skin was brilliant. Her hair illuminated and framed her face in stunning repose. Her eyes were closed calmly and her mouth was gently open, jaw relaxed. Calmly, Laura began to pull the white sheet over Michelle's body. Once her body was completely covered, and her corpse was fully outlined in the sheet, Laura tucked it under the body, wrapping Michelle in a white shroud. Laura then pulled out a maroon blanket and efficiently wrapped the body in it. Laying one last kiss on Michelle's face before closing the wrap, Laura then wheeled the limp, dead body out into the hallway opposite the waiting room Michelle had entered from. In a matter of minutes, Michelle had gone from being alive and fully aware to being a beautiful, eternally relaxed corpse, released from its anger and tension. It was the release Michelle had needed.



The hearse arrived soon afterward and Michelle's body was carefully loaded into it. She was prepared and buried in a dress similar to the ensemble she had been executed in a few days later.

 

Not bad, I like story about execution with lethal injection

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