Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

 

Chapter 15  Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

by Jill Crokett

Sara's father held the thin upper edges of her inner labia apart with two fingers while his middle finger of the same hand gently rubbed circular motions around her clit. She strained to turn away as he, smelling of alcohol, kissed her straight on the mouth, then moved down to kiss her soft neck before settling on his daughter’s spread-flat left breast, sucking its erect nipple deep into his mouth as if he were a hungry babe. 

Realizing she was beyond feeling shame, Sara released herself both physically and emotionally into his hands, hoping she might experience one last moment of pleasure in life.  As her father's finger lightly circled her slippery, rigid clit, and his lips alternately sucked both of her tits, the housewife and mother submitted to her own father's advances.  Sara moaned as she came, enunciating the words “oh daddy” as she shuttered in orgasm. A wet ejaculate drenched his fingers as she came.

Sara's father’s loins screamed to fuck her.  With his free hand he reached down and unbuckled his trousers, then pulled out he old, rigid cock and positioned himself to enter her. He had known that he just had to fuck his 33-year-old daughter the moment he entered to small visitation room and saw her naked and defenselessly strung up spread-eagled.  As the sixty-year-old slid his rigid cock into his daughter’s dripping vagina, Sara did not gasp, but offered a faux resistance, whispering "Please daddy, please don't do this, please, please Daddy, not that, please, please Daddy don’t." 

With each “don’t” Sara breathed on him, his excitement grew, swelling his rigid vertical pole to the bursting point. As she pleaded in shame and humiliation he grasped his daughter’s bare butt cheeks with both hands and slammed his steely venous member deep inside her.  Sara moaned aloud as she was taken.  Fucking his helplessly spread daughter in the upright position, he was unaware that his wife of 36 years had just been stripped naked and fingered by both Jason and Warden Bowden in another room down the hall.  He would never know that fact because Sara's mother would be too ashamed to tell him. And of course he would never tell his wife that, as a final act, he had raped their only daughter.

Sara Stahler's mother, still shocked by the trauma of her final visit with the girl she had given birth to 33 years earlier, was weeping uncontrollably as she left the facility. Her husband pretended to comfort her, his arm around her as they walked to the prison shuttle bus which would transport them back to the Las Vegas Airport.

"Why did they have to do that to her?" she asked Sara’s father repeatedly.  "Why?”

“Why did they have to tie her up like that, why did they have to strip her before we could see her?”

“Why was she shaved bare? What was that for? Those bastards! “Those bastards, why did they do that to our girl?"

The gallery bleachers were packed with over four hundred witnesses, most chosen by a special lottery of applicants.  A rumbling mumble of background chatter filled the small indoor stadium as the gallery, mostly married couples, waited patiently as they nervously whispered among themselves.  Back in their cells, the three condemned female prisoners were being ordered to dress in Speedo-type swimsuits. 

Sara Stahler was ordered to put on a skintight one-piece dark blue swimsuit.  In another cell, Tracy Howell and Diane Howell were given the courtesy of a final goodbye visit, which even allow them a brief, tear-filled hug.  The naked mother and daughter held each other tight and exchanged expressions of love before being told to stand at attention with their hands overhead.  Each had been given a final enema, was showered, and had the shadow of growth on her pussy shaved bare one final time. The mother and daughter were then ordered to put on matching dark blue one-piece bathing suits, the style which female lifeguard’s traditionally wore. 16-year-old Tracy’s hair was prepped for execution with a short boyish cut, but her head was not buzzed military style as Sara’s had been.  Her mother Diane would be allowed to go to her execution with her stylish high-off-the-shoulder Princess-Diana-style hairdo.

The murmuring of the gallery fell instantly silent as the doors at the opposing end of the auditorium suddenly swung open with a distant clang.  At that very moment the overhead lights dimmed, throwing the bleachers into darkness, leaving only an area at the center of the gymnasium floor brightly lit with floodlights.  The audience was stone silent with anticipation.  This was the very moment these privileged citizenry had long awaited.    

The roughly equal mix of men and women in the witness gallery stared intently as three barefoot females, dressed only in matching blue swimsuits, were led abreast through wide double doors into the gymnasium, escorted in by a special unit of all-female guards. The swimsuit-clad prisoners stood out dramatically next to the crisply pressed black and white uniforms of the guards. The condemned were not handcuffed, but had been allowed to walk in with their arms comfortably at their sides for one last time.

The audience could see that all three were breathing deeply, their chests raising and lowering beneath the skintight blue swimsuits.  The swimsuits were thin and unlined, and in the chill of the air conditioned auditorium the outline of the women's erect nipples were visible.  As they were led into the floodlight area, the form-fitting swimwear also revealed the mounds of their vulvas, and even the short, girl-like slits of their shaved pussies through the cloth.  Nothing was said for several minutes as the witnesses gawked in anticipatory silence. 

Karen and Bill Schnell sat in the witness gallery and silently stared along with the other couples.  This was the moment Karen had waited for, the moment that she would manifest the demise of her son's killers.  Karen was excited to the point of being nervous, and her mind buzzed with anticipation.

 “How will they die?  Slowly?  Will it be brutal?  Will it be slow?” she wondered.

“Will these women be stripped naked for their execution?”

“Will they beg for mercy?  Will they cry?  Will they scream?”

“How will I react?  How will Bill?  Will it excite him?  Will he want to fuck me as soon as we get back to our room?”  

Images flooded Karen’s mind.  She wondered how much the process would excite Bill who, having not made love to her since their son's tragic murder, had been fucking her hard twice a day since they had witnessed their first execution a week earlier.  Karen's pussy was already wet just from seeing the three women marched in wearing only swimsuits, and she hoped the sight would also stir her husband's loins.

Bill Schnell had his own thoughts too. He wondered if the proceedings would send Karen’s libido over the top, permanently propelling her into the wild submissive she seemed to be evolving into since arriving in Nevada. Since watching their first execution at the facility earlier in the week, his wife Karen had sexually opened up, kneeling and asking permission to lick Bill’s asshole, begging for the privilege to deep-throat him and swallow his load, pleading for him to fuck her hard in every hole.  It had been more exciting for him than their honeymoon.    

Another tense, uncomfortably silent minute pasted during which time the audience gazed with fixed stares at the three scantily dressed condemned females. The condemned breathed heavily, their eyes squinting in the spotlights as they scanned the darkened witness gallery. Tracey could clearly make out a properly dressed middle-aged couple in the front row. The woman wore a knee-length dress suit and sat with her legs tightly crossed. Diane stared in silence at a younger couple and wondered if they had ever had children. Sara peered over and spotted a couple that reminded her of her parents. In turn the couples stared back at three female forms in dark blue bathing suits, each with a different body type; Tracey the petite flat chested teenager, Sara the pert, toned young mother, and Diane the attractive yet mature mom with full, hanging breasts and wide, pear-like hips and bottom. 

Warden Anne Bowden broke the uncomfortable silence when she stepped into the spotlight and politely introduced herself to the witness gallery.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the three females standing before us here today have each been sentenced in a court of law to be punished physically before being put to death here today for their cooperation in the most unspeakable crime of this century, a crime which took the lives of many hundreds and hundreds of innocent men, women and children, a crime which took the lives of husbands and wives, sons and daughters, and crushed the spirit of many more who survive.”

As Warden Bowden spoke the hundreds of witnesses, many of whom had paid witness gallery lottery winners a quarter-of-a-million dollars apiece for the privilege of acquiring their witness entry permit on the secondary market, leaned forward and intently listen to her every word. Some of the men in the gallery had grow erect immediately upon seeing the three barefoot condemned females led into the gymnasium. A number of their wives’ vagina’s were already dripping with lubrication as their attention now hung on the warden’s every word.  As Bowden spoke, around the world, several million upper middle class types had paid the unheard of sum of fifteen thousand dollars each for the privilege of watching a special closed circuit broadcast of the proceedings, which had been marketed as “Execution of the Terrorist Housewives”, even though Tracey was an unmarried teen, and her mom was divorced.  But it sold in the ultra-premium pay-per-view market, and the government’s take from their royalty fee alone was helping fund the entire Federal prison program.   

Bowden continued “These three condemned women have already undergone several corporal punishments in the past 10 days.  Two have been strapped with the belt, and the third received the bullwhip.  With full judicial approval, the two younger females have been raped.  Each of the three has undergone a rapid false pregnancy with fully simulated vaginal delivery. You, Ladies and Gentlemen, will now witness their final punishment and death."

With those words Tracy glanced in terror at her mother, and both began to cry aloud softly.

"The court has ordered that, following their physical punishments, these three women are to be put to death, and their vital organs are to be harvested for transplantation.  The court has left it up to me, as the warden of this Federal facility, to determine the exact methods of punishment and death, as well as the order in which they will be put to death.”

Turning to the three women, but speaking clearly into a small microphone so that the audience could still hear her, the Warden coolly and abruptly announced  "Sara Stahler, you will be put to death first, in about thirty minutes. Before being executed you will be whipped with a belt, and your nipples will be crushed.”

After everything the three had already been through, it sounded rather anticlimactic, but that changed when the warden added “Sara, your method of death is live surgical removal of your vulva, its associated external tissues, and its attached internal organs.”

As the meaning of the words sunk in, Sara’s face immediately curled up in an agonizingly desperate plead for mercy, but she remained silent. Every witness stared alternately at her face and then at the crotch of the 33-year-old mom’s dark blue skintight swimsuit.

Turning to the youngest of the three, the warden said "Tracy Howell, you'll be executed second, but first you’ll receive the belt again. As your method of death, your entire body, including your labia, breasts and buttocks, will be skinned alive.”  Before the shocking reality of what she had just said had time to sink in, she quickly added “And your mother will be forced to witness your execution.”

"No, noooo" screamed Diane Howell, her full figured breasts juggling within the confines of the snug one-piece swimsuit.  As she screamed she attempted to reach forward daughter, but two guards firmly grabbed her arms and pulled her back. As they did, Diane fell to her knees as if begging, slowly shaking her head while sobbingly mouthing the words “no, no” over and over again.

Once Diane was pulled to her feet, the warden added "Diane Howell, you will be executed last so that you might first witness the full measure of the government’s resolve. Before you are put to death, Mrs. Howell, you will suffer a bare bottom paddling with a smooth hardwood paddle one hundred times, and each of your breasts will individually receive the leather strap one hundred times, followed by a labial strapping of your vulva one hundred times.”

Without mentioning Diane’s method of death, the warden added “Mrs. Howell, I am prepared to offer your daughter Tracey leniency, but only if you are willing to cooperate with you own punishment.”

Diane looked up at Warden Bowden, puzzled.

“Diane, if you are willing to cooperate fully during your punitive punishments, I am willing to execute your daughter humanely, by lethal injection, rather that have her skinned alive, and she would be spared any harsh punitive punishment before her death.”

Diane Howell was dumbfounded as she absorbed the warden’s offer.

“Well Mrs. Howell, would you be willing to cooperate?” the warden prompted.

“Oh, oh yes ma’am, yes, please, please yes, warden, I’ll cooperate. Please, please don’t hurt her, please let me cooperate” Diane, though somewhat confused, stammered with tears running down her cheeks.

“Alright then, Mrs. Howell, so you will agree to cooperate fully, to obey every command during your punishment, and we will not need to restrain you?”

“No, no ma’am warden, not at all.”

“You will obey every command?”

“Yes ma’am”

“We’ll see” the warden mumbled to herself sarcastically, continuing aloud “Alright then Ladies and Gentlemen, we will first proceed fully with Mrs. Stahler, then once she has been dispatched, we will move on to Mrs. Howell’s punitive punishments before her daughter Tracey is dealt with.”

The warden added “Then we will switch back to dispatch Mrs. Howell as our final act today.” Her voice sounded eerily matter-of-fact, as if it were all part of a day’s work.  Still, she gave no hint of what Diane’s actual method of execution would be. “Would she get what had been scheduled for her daughter?” Karen Schnell and several of the other witnesses wonder to themselves.

The nervous silence was broken only by the sound of a strange looking black leather medical examination bench being carried onto the concrete floor and positioned at a designated spot under the lights by four huge, muscular men in dressed only in black leather pants.  Loud metallic snapping sounds were heard as the bench was locked down into a hydraulic pillar which had slowly risen from the floor. The men quickly worked to positioned the execution table just behind a shallow floor drain.

Sara recognized to bench as the same type used to execute the 53-year-old woman who had poisoned her two husbands. Tears ran down her cheeks as she recalled the woman’s pleadings.

Hairs stood on end throughout the gallery when the warden announce “Mrs. Sara Stahler, step forward, face the gallery, and remove your bathing suit.”

Sara obeyed. There was nothing else to do. As she slipped the swimsuit off her shoulders and bent to pull it down to her knees, her mind flashed back to her childhood, when her father made her pull her panties down for a spanking, when her mother had made her pull them down for the doctor, and when she had first stood and stripped in front of her husband. A flash of his face raced through her mind. “Had he loved me?” she wondered.  “Had anyone loved me?”  Dr. Wexler had said her cared for her, surely, he wouldn’t make her suffer she thought.

The four executioners in leather pants stood around Sara, forming a wide circle so as not to obstruct the gallery’s view.  One of the men held two pairs of pliers in his hand.

“Hands behind your head, Sara” Warden Bowden ordered.

Weeping in resignation, Sara reached behind her head for the last time in her life as millions of privileged viewers watched around the world.

The piercing scream made Tracey wet herself as Sara fell to her knees under the crushing sting of the pliers which griped her nipples. The executioner crushed both of her nipples at the same time, twisting them as they were squished flat by the cruel hand tool. Sara reflexively tried to cover her tits, only to have her hands quickly grabbed and held behind her by one of the muscular shirtless men.  The executioner pulled her nipples as far out from her chest as he could, lifting them skyward as he twisted.

After the brief but brutal tit crushing, Sara was suspended by her ankles with overhead cables and the executioners belt flashed across her butt relentlessly as she twisted and screamed.  There was no counting as her bare bottom was reduced to one solid red and purple welt. When Tracey tried to cover her ears and look away, the warden walked up and slapped her squarely across the face, forcing her to watch the torture. Sara’s hands attempted to cover her bottom, but were pulled away.  As she hung upside down her butt was strapped to a swollen blister as she cried and pleaded for mercy. There would be none. Her bottom a blister, a fresh executioner took the strap and began to weld it across her small breasts. Through it all, Sara’s bald pussy was left untouched.