BDSM Library - Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

Main Characters : Diane Howell, age 41, divorced, mother of Tracy

Tracy Howell, single, age 15

Sara Stahler, age 32, married, mother of a young boy

Anne Bowden, 38, single, never married, women's prison warden

Prolog

The United States had changed profoundly by 2052. After unidentified terrorists had detonated a small improvised nuclear device in Houston, Texas in 2037 - at a cost of an estimated 180,000 lives - the country had floundered into a neurotic state of social introversion approximating that of a xenophobic Orwellian republic on the edge of economic collapse. Like a bear burning its energy by haplessly swatting at the tiny bee which had stung it, the antiterrorist wars had depleted the nation's coffers without tangible success.

What followed were the revocation of many basic civil rights and the amending of the Constitution - removing the clause forbidding "cruel and unusual punishment" and replacing it with a clause mandating "appropriate punishment for the crime." Judicial retribution ruled the day. Most Americans, on an emotional level, believed they were personally a victim, and they craved justice. Juries handed out death sentences at an increasing rate. Traditional prison sentences, as a cost-saving measure, were now frequently passed over in exchange for severe corporal punishments, all legalized by new antiterrorist laws and constitutional augmentation.

As in all suicide-bombing crimes, the perpetrator vanishes at the moment he appears. America had evolved into a paranoid land, both emotionally numb and ethically bankrupt - a land of many victims – and in desperate need of perpetrators to punish. This is a story of three women who lived in that time.

The Tunnel Blast

The four-lane, twin tube, 16 mile long Clinton Tunnel connecting New Jersey with Long Island had opened with much fanfare in 2029, and was named to honor the late president who had served the people of New York. It was the longest transportation tunnel in the Western Hemisphere, and had been the most expensive civil engineering public works project in American history.

On March 22, 2052, Middle Eastern terrorists, in the country posing as Central American guest workers, succeeded in causing one of America's worst days of terror since Los Angeles '37. Relying on the assistance of collaborators to block the tunnel's east exit during the bumper to bumper afternoon rush hour, the terrorists succeeded in detonating a disguised propane truck in the middle of the tunnel, killing over 1,700 and seriously burning almost two thousand more. As the gasoline in each successive vehicle in the tunnel exploded, the resulting Domino effect created a blowtorch which burned for three days, eventually melting the concrete walls of the tunnel.

Among the victims was a busload of schoolchildren returning from a field trip. They were burned alive. Of the 'fortunate' survivors, over 100 required extremely extensive skin grafts to more than 50% of their bodies, and hundreds more were disfigured for life from third degree burns.

The Investigation

Since the terrorists themselves perished in the tunnel explosion, the investigation quickly focused on those who had used their vehicles to block both exit lanes of the Clinton Tunnel on March 22, 2052. It was found that the two "blocking" vehicles were registered to the fictitious Hispanic names used by the Middle Eastern terrorists. But it was also determined that those two suicide-bomber terrorists were driving the disguised propane truck on March 22, not the blocking vehicles. This was confirmed by digital video cameras located at the tollbooth at the west entrance to the tunnel. What was also determined by those cameras was the visual identity of the persons believed to be operating the vehicles which stopped and blocked the tunnel's exit at the other end. Since those blocking vehicles were not destroyed in the disaster, investigators quickly matched those vehicles with images of vehicles entering the tunnel at the other end that afternoon. The cameras showed that the two blocking vehicles were each driven by a single female with relatively short hair. The two females were both Caucasian.

The first of those females, then referred to by investigators as female A, appeared to have straight, short light to medium brown hair, cut with bangs in a wedged taper just slightly above the ear lobes on each side. Her hair naturally parted in the middle. She was of medium to slightly heavy build and appeared to be somewhat tan. She was attractive and appeared to be in her late thirties.

The second female, referred to as female B, also appeared to be the sole occupant of her vehicle. Female B had slightly longer and lightly curled very light blond hair, possibility bleached or highlighted. It seemed to be parted to one side and just covered both of her ears completely, but did not touch the neckline. She appeared to be of a lighter build but was not exactly petite. She had a very fair complexion. Female B was younger, probably early 30's, and was also quite attractive.

A third suspect was seen, not on the tollbooth video, but on the tunnel's hidden exit video camera. After stopping both of their vehicles and blocking both exit lanes, the perpetrators were seen exiting their vehicles and getting into a get-away vehicle which was parked and waiting at the tunnel exit. As traffic backed up inside the tunnel the get-away vehicle left the scene with its three occupants just before the explosion.

The get-away vehicle, which investigators referred to as the pickup vehicle, was driven by a short, youthful looking, female teenager with long-hair and a small build. She had either light brown or reddish hair which fell down her back to her mid shoulder blade level. It appeared she had straight-cut bangs.

The digitally enhanced tollbooth and tunnel exit photos of the women were distributed to news organizations about three weeks after the bombing. Those images of two early middle aged females were soon broadcast on television news networks throughout the world. Almost immediately, investigator began receiving hundreds of calls. Three suspects were quickly identified. All were western Long Island suburban residents, and all three females where quickly brought in for questioning.

Soccer-mom Diane

Diane Howell was the attractive 41-year-old divorced mother of an active, flirtatious 15-year-old teenage daughter. Her physical attractiveness presented itself in a somewhat matronly way. At 5'4" and 165lbs she was modestly overweight, but her weight was well proportioned due to her relatively narrow waist which was bordered above by full breasts and bordered below by rounded full buttocks and somewhat saddlebag hips. Her full D-cup breasts were somewhat pendulous, complimenting her full but rather shapely thighs and hips. Diane disguised her extra pounds well and wore a ladies size 14 without a bit of pulling at the pleats. When her weight fluctuated downward, she could occasionally fit into a snug size 12. Her figure could best be described as mature, motherly, matronly, and sexy, all at once. Her short light brown hair and was cut in a carefree 'toss-about' style which required no special care. The press described Diane as "an attractive soccer mom from next door-type."

Diana, who lived with her teenage daughter in a modestly comfortable suburban home, had been rapidly coming under pronounced financial distress since she and her husband divorced two years earlier. Diane's ex-husband, a previously successful New York accountant, had fled to the exotic back alley bars of Southeast Asia and had not paid child-support or alimony in over six months. Diane's own job in real estate sales had long been in a slump due to the failing American economy.

Under FBI interrogation, Diane Howell admitted to investigators that she and her close friend Sarah Stahler had been "conned by Mexicans" into parking the cars at the tunnel exit as a prank, and that she had nothing to do with the explosion. When investigators informed her that they had found evidence that she had recently received a large amount of cash from an unknown source, Diane broke down and changed her story. She confessed that she had met the "Mexicans" when their private landscape was doing some contract work at one of her real estate listings near Oyster Bay. She admitted that she was immediately attracted to one of them who she described as quite handsome. She said that she had been quite lonely since being divorced, and that she had a brief affair with the handsome Mexican, meeting him for trysts at her vacant listed properties. When questioned, Diane denied that the man had introduced her to cocaine. She said that eventually the landscaper told her a strange story that he had a beef with the tunnel authority over a car of his which had broken down in the tunnel. He convinced Diane that his car had been accidentally towed to a crush site and destroyed, and that the tunnel authority refused to reimburse him. He claimed that, being an illegal immigrant, the car was not insured. Diane told investigators that the Mexican convinced her and her friend Sara to participate in a prank as revenge on the tunnel authority. She stated that she believed no harm would come to anyone from the prank. Investigators did not buy her story.

Under further intense interrogation at FBI headquarters in Washington, Diane eventually confessed that the men she believed were Mexicans had given her $65,000 to block the tunnel, with another $65,000 promised to her after the operation was performed. She said she was in great financial distress and simply needed the money. Diane said she truly believed that, at worse, the tunnel blocking incident had something to do with a Mexican drug deal, and that no one would be physically hurt from the incident. Diane Howell also confessed that the landscape contractor had introduced her to cocaine, and that she had split most of the tunnel money with her best friend and sometimes aerobics partner, 32-year-old Sara Stahler. She claimed that she had recruited Sara to help with the tunnel blocking, initially offering her $25,000.

Diane Howell insisted to investigators that Sarah Stahler had never met the "Mexicans." But the FBI had learned otherwise. The FBI had evidence that in fact both she and Sara had visited the terrorists' apartment on at least several occasions, probably to snort free cocaine and have sex with them. They speculated that both women had also gone there to finalize the tunnel incident plans and pickup their payoff money. A neighbor of the terrorists' was able to identify photos of both women, and was prepared to testify that she had seen Diane and Sarah visit the terrorists' apartment on several occasions, one as a recent as two days before the attack.

Under further interrogation Diane also admitted that she had recruited her 15-year-old daughter Tracy to drive the getaway car. But she insisted that Tracy knew nothing about the money and that Tracy was simply helping her mother out. Prosecutors did not buy it.

Beautiful Sara

Sara Stahler was, at 32, a classic beauty. One news anchorwoman referred to Sarah as a "Princess Diana look-alike soccer mom," although in reality Sara was somewhat less busty and probably several inches shorter than the princess. A socially and physically active stay-at-home mom, Sara had natural looking light blond hair, a bit longer in the front and parted on the left. Sara's fair skin was smooth and flawless. Her hair, skin tone, and smile all gave her a radiant quality which commanded attention whenever she entered or room. Sara was 5'6" tall, weighed 118lbs, had slender hips, and had a B-cup bust. Her figure was, in a very chic kind of way, somewhat boyish up top, matched below with a full, rounded bottom. Sara religiously went to aerobics class twice a week, and her body was excellently proportioned and well toned. Sara was married to a modestly successful though often intoxicated independent insurance agent. She had a six-year-old son.

FBI investigators discovered that Sara Stahler and her husband both lived beyond their means and often fought over the management of household funds. They learned that Sara was known as someone who loved to shop, and that she had not long ago maxed out three credit cards, which increased the tension between her and her husband. Agents learned that Sara had recently made $3,500 cash payments on at least two of those credit cards, and that she had also recently made a $5,000 cash deposit toward the purchase a brand new 2052 Lexus. But there was one other interesting piece to the puzzle. A mandatory FBI drug test revealed that Sara Stahler had recently used a very expensive grade of Colombian cocaine.

Young Tracy

Tracy Howell was a pretty "girl next door-type" 15-year-old teenager who spoke in a somewhat immature tone of voice. Tracy was, at 5'1", the shortest of the three suspects. She weighed 108 lbs, had A to B cup breasts, a somewhat shapely waist and bottom, and had long straight reddish strawberry blonde hair that fell nearly to her waist in the back. Her hair was cut with eyebrow-length straight bangs in the front. Tracy had a light tan, lightly freckled skin, perfect teeth, and seemed to always smile. At 15, she was somewhat shy and self-conscious, and was still a virgin. There was just one problem investigators had. If in fact she was just following her mother's orders by driving the pickup car, why then did Tracy's blood also test positive for cocaine, the exact same expensive grade of cocaine that the FBI had found in Sara Stahler's blood. Traces of that exact same type of cocaine were also found in the apartment of the dead terrorists.

A guilty plea

Tracy would be 16 years old by the trial date. Prosecutors announced they would try Tracy not only as an adult, but as an equal co-conspirator, along with her mother and Sarah Stahler. All three females were to be tried at the same time in a single trial.

Further investigation had led prosecutors to believe that, although the terrorists initially were introduced to the younger women through Diane, the terrorists' had actually first lured Tracy and Sarah into the tunnel bombing plan, and it was they who then recruited Diane, not the other way around, as Diane had insisted. Prosecutors believed that Diane Howell had made up her story to protect her teenage daughter.

The trail date was set for July 11 ^th , 2052. Prosecutors charged Diane Howell, Sara Stahler and Tracy Howell each with 1700 counts of Capital Murder, and also Capital Terrorism - the highest crime possible in mid 21st-century America. The upcoming trial was the receiving worldwide attention and the press dubbed it the "soccer mom terrorists" trial. The FBI and Justice Department, who had gone a longtime without a living, surviving terrorist to prosecute, pulled out all the stops and brought in their best prosecutorial team. A team of over 2000 investigators had already gleaned and assembled every speck of condemning evidence.

Diane Howell, Tracy Howell and Sara Stahler were to be tried together at the same time, and they had been appointed the same attorney, a popular feminist-activist lawyer named Molly Charnel. Because juries in high capital crimes had been abolished by the Constitutional amendment of 2038, the trial would be heard by three High Court federal judges, two men and one woman.

On her first meeting with the three defendants, Molly Charnel explained to Diane, Sara, and Tracy that the Justice Department was building a solid case against them. She explained that the nation had been longing to prosecute terrorist collaborators in a high-profile case. Molly explained to the young women that they should plead guilty, which she explained would give them they are only chance for possible leniency. The women were all clearly aware of the brutal sentences handed down through the judicial system since the amending of the Constitution.

After meeting with Molly Charnel, Diane convinced her daughter that they both should plead guilty and appeal to the mercy of the court. She noted that one of the judges was a woman and mom herself, and she would surely show sympathy toward them.

Sara Stahler met with her husband and her parents one last time before the trial date. They agreed with Diane - a guilty plea was the only way for Sara to save her life.

Sentencing the terrorists

The newspapers and television news shows were all abuzz about the upcoming sentencing court date for the two "terrorist soccer moms" and the lone "teen terrorist." One news channel devoted an entire hour program the night before sentencing to speculation on the three females' sentence. Since the Constitutional amendment prohibiting cruel and unusual punishment had been repealed, judges were at great liberty to impose bizarre and esoteric punishments in both corporal and capital cases. Due to government budget shortfalls, and also due to a public enraged over terrorism, corporal punishment had essentially replaced prison terms longer than one year. New reality television shows, such as "America's Most Hated" frequently featured live whippings of men found guilty of rape and drug smuggling. Pay-per-view television occasionally offered live executions. The living room had become not only the jury box, but the witness room.

Diane Howell, Sara Stahler, and Tracy Howell had together appeared before the three High Judges one month earlier and, while begging for leniency court through their attorney, pleaded guilty to Capital Terrorism and a plea-reduced charge of 1700 counts of 'manslaughter.' Their sentencing date was set for August 19th, 2052 at 9 a.m. sharp. High Court judge Marla Cohen would pass down sentence.

On August 15 ^th Judge Cohen telephoned defense attorney Molly Charnel and informed her in advance that all the sentences would be equal, and that the two women and one teenage girl would all be sentenced at one time. Molly Charnel thought that was a bit unusual, but the next request from the judge was even stranger. Judge Cohen requested specific pre-sentencing information about the three women, including very specific information about their menstrual cycles and dates regarding same. She informed attorney Charnel that she needed this information immediately. Later that afternoon the medical information was passed on to the sentencing judge. Within 20 minutes of receiving that information Judge Marla Cohen's office made a public announcement that sentencing would be postponed until August 21st.

A huge, silent courtroom

The huge cavernous courtroom was packed but eerily silent. The high 35 ft. ceiling gave the large chamber a faint echo. The only persons standing in the packed courtroom were a dozen alarmed guards, and two television camera operators.

A restrained rumble came over the crowd as two wide side doors opened at once and the three women were brought into the courtroom escorted by nine uniformed guards. They each were handcuffed at the wrist with their arms in front of them. They were followed in by their defense attorney, Molly Charnel, who stopped to take a seat at the defense table. Diane Howell, her daughter Tracy and Sara Stahler were all then escorted forward to an open sentencing platform located about 10 feet in front of the tall judges' bench. The sentencing platform itself was raised about a foot higher than the rest of the courtroom floor. The three women were placed on the platform facing the judges' bench, each standing about 18 inches apart from one another. All three were well-dressed and neatly groomed. Their handcuffs were then carefully removed during the sentencing procedure. Studio lights and television cameras positioned in the front corners of the room allowed the public, and more importantly the hungry news industry, a proper view of the guilty.

The now 42-year-old Diane Howell was neatly dressed in a royal blue business suit jacket with matching slacks. She wore a simple white pullover blouse under the bright blue suit jacket. Around her left ankle she wore her only lucky charm, a thin gold ankle bracelet given to her years earlier by her ex-husband. Her only other jewelry consisted of a pair of enamel pierced hearings which matched her suit. Her shoes consisted off matching blue low-rise business pumps. She stared with an anxious expression at the empty judges' bench.

16-year-old Tracy Howell was dressed in stylish tan dress slacks with matching light brown belt and shoes. She wore a long-sleeved white silk dress blouse that billowed slightly at the sleeves. Tracy's long red hair glistened in the sunlight coming through the window. Her straight strawberry-colored hair had recently been neatly trimmed straight across at the level of her lower shoulder blades in the back, and her bangs had also been neatly trimmed across her forehead in the front. At only 5'1", Tracy appeared obviously smaller than the other two women to the people in the gallery. The teenager also contrasted with the other women because of her long hair. Her mother and Sara, standing to either side of her, each had their hair cut high up off their shoulders. Diane's cut revealed her ear lobes, while Sara's very light blond hair was longer but nonetheless stopped several inches above her collar.

On her way into the courtroom, Sara Stahler caught the eye of her husband and her 54-year-old mother sitting in the gallery. She held her chin up high and proud, and as she entered the room she passed her loved ones in glancing smile. Sara's blond hair blazed in the morning sunlight coming through the window as she was led up to the slightly raised sentencing platform. Dressed in a simple but very stylish lemon colored one-piece sleeveless summer shift dress hemmed generously above the knee she could've easily passed foreign movie star or the Princess of Wales. Around her neck she was a gold necklace which contained in the hinged locket tiny photos of her husband and son.

Beyond Shame

The seats rumbled as the packed gallery rose to its feet on the entrance of the three High Court Judges. The Judges took their seats quickly, with 62-year-old High Court associate Judge Marla Cohen taking the center chair. The bailiff ordered the gallery to remain completely silent and seated during the entire sentencing procedure. With a wave of the Judge Cohen's hand, the guards standing careful watch over the unhandcuffed prisoners stepped down off the sentencing platform. At this point Diane, Sara, and Tracy stood eerily alone on the sentencing platform, their eyes fixed forward on the judge.

After a few seconds of frightening total silence, Judge Cohen began to speak in a clear and determined voice.

"The guilty shall now raise their hands above their heads for sentencing." As had become the custom in recent decades, the three females slowly raised their arms overhead in the surrender posture to hear their sentence.

As the three beautiful young convicted female terrorists stood submissive before the bench, Judge Cohen continued "Diane Howell, Sara Stahler, and Tracy Howell, each having been found guilty of Capital Treason and 1700 counts of manslaughter by this court, I hereby order that you be immediately placed in the custody of the Federal Department of Correction and Punishment and transported to the Women's Federal Punishment Processing Center at Elk Flat, Nevada."

Judge Cohen paused slightly and then continued.

"It is the order of this court that there you shall, without delay, having been prepped and positioned in a manner prescribed by the Federal Department of Corrections and Punishment, each be administered not less than 40 strokes to your buttocks using a narrow leather razor strap of not more than 2 inches in width and not more than 18 inches in length."

Diane, her gaping eyes fixed forward on the female judge, could hear her daughter Tracy beginning to cry.

"An additional 40 strokes shall be administered to the remainder of you body using a short single-thonged leather bullwhip not greater than 4 feet in length."

Sara's eyes weld up with tears as her lower lip quivered.

"Within 48 hours of your punitive whipping you shall each, having been properly prepared and positioned in a manner prescribed by the Department of Corrections and Punishment; undergo a punitive procedure known as false childbirth. This procedure shall be performed in front of not fewer than 40 witnesses."

"Then, after a period of not more than 15 days from this date, and having received additional punitive corporal punishment of a type to be determine by the Department of Corrections and Punishment, and having been prepared in a manner prescribed by the Department of Corrections and Punishment for execution, shall without benefit of anesthesia undergo the live harvesting of your internal organs for transplantation, including your reproductive organs. May God have mercy on your souls."

Sara could hear her mother sobbing in the gallery behind her. Diane's face knotted up in a contortion as she mumbled to the judge "not my daughter too, no, no, please don't do it." Teenage Tracy continued to cry aloud.

Judge Marla Cohen, indifferent to the sobbing and pleas, continued, "the administration of this capital sentence shall be performed under the direct supervision of Ms. Anne Bowden, Warden of the Federal Women's Punishment Facility in Elk Flat, Nevada, who shall have full control and discretion over same."

With a nod from the judge the guards quickly handcuffed the prisoners and escorted the three now condemned females to an awaiting van which was to take them to an awaiting Federal government supersonic transport plane for the little over one hour flight to eastern Nevada. They would arrive well before noon Nevada time.

To be continued in Chapter Two

Author's note: This story is completely fiction. Should any name used in this work be the same as that of a real person, it is pure coincidence.

The Nevada facility

On the fight to eastern Nevada, Sara, Diane and Tracy had been separated by partitions onboard the aircraft and therefore could not speak to one another during the 90 minute supersonic flight from New York. Once at the Nevada facility, they would be housed in separate isolation cells.

Within three hours of their sentencing the three condemned women were being loaded off the plane, which had landed at the Nevada facility's private government desert airstrip. As she was escorted off the plane into dry desert air and hot August Nevada sun, Diane Howell looked up and saw in the distance a complex of white windowless industrial looking buildings surrounded by layer after layer of electronic surveillance and razor wire. Several large white metal-clad buildings were in the foreground, behind which was a large windowless five-story building the size of a large multiplex theater complex. Diane wondered what that large theatre-like building was for. On the flight to Nevada, Diane's mind had been racing with thoughts about what the next hours would bring. She knew she would soon find out. She had thought about how very, very wrong her actions had been, but her greatest guilt was reserved for the thought that she had brought her teenage daughter in on the fast-money tunnel scheme. It had turned into a nightmare.

Induction

Diane, Sara and Tracy, handcuffed with their hands behind her back and still wearing the clothes they had wore into the courtroom a less than three hours earlier, were escorted into the Women's Punishment Facility at Elk Flat, Nevada under heavy guard. Surrounded by nine guards, seven male and two female, the three women were escorted into a receiving room. There Warden Anne Bowden waited to receive them. Bowden was 38-years-old, never married, no kids, and loved her job as a high rising star in the Federal Punishment System, where she was certified to handle the processing and execution of both male and female condemned prisoners. At 5'10", Bowden was somewhat attractive in a masculine sort of way, had medium length dark brunette hair, and always wore a dark blue size 12 business suit with a blouse and skirt. Rumors at the facility pegged her as a lesbian, but in truth she could best be described as an asexual bureaucratic workaholic. Bowden anxiously anticipated the arrival of her famous and now newly condemned female prisoners. There would be no pleasantries.

"We are now going to take you into the next room to my right here to begin your processing at this facility. I want to make it clear that, being condemned prisoners, we will follow the strictest protocol with you" said Bowden.

"Rule number one; do not speak unless you are asked a direct question by me or a guard."

Facing forward, Sara eyes darted around the room. She noted that most of the corrections officers standing guard over them were large, strong men. Fantasies of escape quickly vanished.

"Rule number two" Bowden continued, "if and when you are released from handcuffs, do not move your arms or legs unless you are told to do so."

"If at any time you speak, unless you are answering a direct question, or if at anytime you move your arms, unless told to do so, this is what will happen to you."

Warden Bowden held up a small stun gun and pulled the trigger. The sudden electrical zapping sound made Tracy shriek. Bowden told the women that she wanted them to see what the stun gun would do to them if she had to use it on them. She then turned on a flat video screen hanging on the wall behind her.

The scene on the video is that of a male prisoner, standing stripped naked with his hands on top of his head, facing the camera. His cock and balls are completely clean-shaven. Warden Bowden is then seen walking up to him and placing a stun gun on the man's right buttocks. Within a fraction of the second the grown man collapsed in silent but gasping convulsions, followed by hysterical crying. Urine shoots from his penis, trickling upward like a fountain as he twists on the floor, sobbing hysterically. Anne Bowden turns off the video and turns to address her new prisoners.

"You have been warned – no talking and no sudden movement. You are now going to be taken through these doors to my right. Obey every order exactly as it is given to you."

The large double doors to the right open automatically into the adjoining larger room. The large, brightly lit room is hospital white and has a large floor-to-ceiling curtain draped across one end of it, separating one end of the room from view. The bright, well lit room has a white tile floor, white paneled ceiling, and white-enamel colored walls.

Upon entering the room, the guards position the three women in a line about five feet apart from one another, all facing the floor-to-ceiling white curtain. As Warden Bowden steps in front of the curtain and faces the women, several of the male guards stare down at the floor for a moment, almost looking embarrassed about what Warden Bowden is about to say.

"The guards are now going to unlock your handcuffs. When they do, you are to place your arms straight above your head and keep them there until told otherwise. Do you understand?"

The three women nod yes.

"You will then be stripped completely naked. Your personal clothing and all personal articles, including jewelry, will be destroyed. Our resident physician, Dr Wexler, will then give you each a physical exam, including a complete gynecological examination."

Tracy's face flushed red with embarrassment. Sara's eyes darted nervously to the male guards.

"In accordance with the DOCP guidelines required by your sentence, any and all hair between your navel and your knees will be completely shaved."

Warden Bowden then reached to push a button on the wall, causing the large curtain to automatically draw open, slowly revealing three examination tables with full-leg stirrups. Sara and Diane immediately realized they are obstetrical delivery tables, complete with leg restraint straps.

Bowden then signals for the guards to remove each prisoner's handcuffs. As they do, each prisoner slowly lifts her arms toward the ceiling. The three women look like surrendering soldiers as a female guard places a large paper bag next to each of the condemned.

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Sara's arms are held directly overhead. She stares straight blankly forward as a male guard facing her reaches behind her neck and unsnaps the gold necklace containing the photos of her husband and son. He hands the locket to a female guard who drops it in the brown paper bag. "It will be sent home" Bowden says, as the female guard removes Sara's ear rings one at a time. Tears swelled up in Sara's eyes, but she holds her tongue. The male guard then instructs Sara to lift one foot at a time, while the crouching female guard removes her shoes and places them in the paper bag. The female guard then stands up and unhooks the top of Sara's dress and unzips it all the way down her back.

The tall male guard then bends over and, using both hands, grabs the hem of Sara's dress and lifts it over her head, pulling it off her upraised on arms. The female guard then immediately crouches down and grabs the elastic of Sara's cream-colored slip and strips it down off her body. The male guard then also crouched down in front of Sara, and with the help of the still crouching female guard behind her, removes Sara's pantyhose. Waiting for a moment in a crouched position for the female guard to get Sara's feet out of the hose, he then pulls down her panties and tells her to step out of them as the female guard unhooks Sara's bra.

32-year-old Sara Stahler now stands completely naked, her arms still pointing skyward, her firm b-cup breasts, flattened by her position, but now revealing large pink nipples. She is a natural blonde. Her full but firm butt is slightly out of proportion with her smaller breasts. She had stunningly flawless cream-white skin. She has no tan lines. As Sara stared forward at the OB delivery table, her mind drifted back a half a decade, to the birth of her son, when she was last clean shaved for a doctor. She breathed a sigh as a silent tear rolled down her cheek.

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16-year-old Tracy's belt was unhooked and slipped from its loops by a crouching male guard. He then quickly unhooked and unzipped her tan dress slacks, pulling them to the floor, revealing snug fitting off-white hip-hugger panties. While he lifted her ankles one at a time to pull her short hose off her feet, another unseen male CO unbuttoned the cuffs of her up reaching sleeves. Tracy was silently crying with an occasional quick sigh. She still felt like a girl, with hope in her life, however faint. She dreamed of a husband, a family, her own home. To the guards she was just part of their job – processing the condemned. He did not look at her as he unbuttoned the front of her blouse – to him she was already an object set aside by the state.

When Tracy's slightly padded bra was removed, her uplifted arms kept her A-to-B-cup breasts from revealing much shape. Her pale breasts were haloed by a faint, freckly tan line. When the guard pulled down the teen's panties, a bright red pubic bush gave contrast to her faint bikini tan line. As the guard held her ankle and ordered her to step out of her last piece of clothing, Tracy watched a female guard place a covered tray on a stainless steel cart next to one of the exam tables. She watched the guard lift the pale green cloth cover from the large tray, revealing two electric trimmers and a number of disposable razors.

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As Diane's suit jacket was being lifted over her head, Warden Bowden picked up a red wall telephone and pressed a single button. "Tell Dr. Wexler we're ready in the prep room B…no…no, they're all going today…yes...yea…that's right, three full preps" A guard undid Diane's belt and quickly unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, lightly tugging them over her hips before they fell to the floor. The other guard pulled her blouse up over her head and then quickly unhooked her bra. Lifting the double D under wire caused her breasts to drop down out of the bra, revealing large brown nipples. Pulling her somewhat matronly full-cut panties down revealed a cesarean scar just slightly above her dark brown pubic mound. The male guard then noticed Diane's gold ankle chain and removed it.

When all three prisoners were completely stripped naked, Bowden ordered them to place their hands out in front of them. They were each quickly handcuffed - with their arms in front of them this time - and told to rest their hands on top of their head.

Prepped for Execution

Dr. Wexler entered without speaking, followed by two middle-aged government nurses in crisp white uniforms. One nurse carried a covered tray. Wexler was 6'1", lean to medium build, 50ish, with dark salt and pepper hair loosely combed back. He had a serious look about him. No pleasantries were exchanged and there was no eye contact. Warden Bowden remained in the room but appeared to step aside when Wexler entered. She did not speak to him.

Wexler, wearing a long white lab coat, purposefully walked in front of the prisoners, intently studying their pubic areas. He stopped in front of Diane, leaned over to touch her cesarean scar, and then turned to speak to one of the nurses, who then quickly wrote something down on a clipboard.

Wexler then looked across the room at Warden Bowden. He then nodded his head, and at that moment two guards took by each prisoner by the arms and quickly brought her to one of the examining tables. Two more guards joined them at each table. Within seconds, Sara, Diane, and Tracy were on their backs, their cuffed on arms stretched overhead to an attachment point. Their buttocks were positioned so that they were off the end of the table. Both legs were quickly strapped into the full-leg stirrups with the knees spread wide, the bottoms of the feet almost pointing skyward. Wexler personally directed the positioning of the stirrups. A small stool was then positioned at the foot of each table and Wexler and the two nurses each took a seat. Wexler himself sat facing Sara. He did not speak her.

Dr. Wexler and the nurses then each quickly picked up an electric trimmer. The electrical buzzing of the three pussy-hair trimmers was the only sound in the room as Dr. Wexler neatly maneuvered up both sides of Sara's wide-spread vulva, and then with one pass completely mowed down the mound of blonde hair on her Mons Venus. The two nurses proceeded to do the same with Diane and Tracy's pussies. Everyone in the room could hear young teenage Tracy sob aloud as her bright red clump of pussy hair fell to the floor at the nurse's feet.

When Wexler was finished trimming the Sara's blond bush to a stub, he then quickly pulled on latex exam gloves and proceeded to shave the 32-year-old wife and mother as completely bare as the day she was born. First, lotion was liberally applied around her anus, labia, and up to her navel. Sara was clean-shaved twice by Wexler, who then carefully wiped her labia, mons and anus with a warm damp cloth. He made a mental note of the small episiotomy scar between her pussy and her anus, indicating a vaginal delivery. As he wiped-clean Sara's anus, Wexler, who was usually very clinically-minded, thought how beautiful she was laying there spread before him. As he pulled off his exam gloves he wondered if he would get a chance to fuck the beautiful soccer-mom-princess-look-alike before she was put to death.

Throwing away the exam gloves he then stood up and carefully listened to Sara's heart with a stethoscope, after which he did a cursory examination of her pert, firm B-cup breasts, mentally noting her erect flesh-colored nipples.

Dr. Wexler then re-gloved and, while holding her feminine lips open with one hand, proceeded to insert a cold-but-lubricated speculum into her spread-open vagina. Rotating the tong-like instrument ninety-degrees, Wexler then spread it wide and clamped it open. He then quickly scraped a pap smear from her pink cervix. Removing the speculum, the doctor then quickly changed into another clean pair of latex exam gloves and carefully proceeded to examine the hood of Sara's clitoris, widely spreading and lifting up on her labia majora to expose the tiny organ. Then, making eye contact with Sara, Wexler inserted two gloved and lightly lubricated fingers deeply into the full length of Sara's vagina. As he slowly withdrew them, he gently pressed upward, dragging one finger against her G-spot. As he withdrew the fingers, his other hand gently tugged upward on Sara's mons, allowing him to check for any urethral discharge as the withdrawing two fingers milked her pee-hole. Wexler then again changed to fresh exam gloves and, holding open Sara's butt-cheeks with one hand, performed an internal rectal examination with his lubricated left index finger, deeply probing her tight asshole as she stared teary-eyed at the ceiling. Then without speaking Wexler rose up, pulled off his examination gloves, dropped them in the wastebasket, and proceeded towards 42-year-old Diane, whose now clean-shaven and spread-wide feminine parts awaited his probing fingers. As he moved away, tears ran down Sara's temples as she continued to stare blankly at the ceiling. Wexler came away from Sara's exam with one bit of certainty; that the beautiful 32-year-old had never given up her tight little asshole to her husband.

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Diane's somewhat heavy thighs were rotated outward and somewhat head-ward; the soles of her feet angled slightly toward the ceiling. Without speaking a word the prison nurse had clean-shaven the 42-year-old woman, completely removing any sign of her dark brown pubic hair from anywhere between her legs, including her anus. Dr. Wexler now sat between Diane Howell's open legs and carefully examined her now clearly visible cesarean section scar. The prison physician, once again pulling on a clean pair of exam gloves, carefully spread and lifted Diane's upper labia and, without expression, purposefully studied the middle-aged woman's clitoris and its hood covering. He then proceeded with the exact same examination he had performed on Sara, with one exception - Diane Howell's large full pendulous breasts were examined much more carefully for lumps or swelling, and Dr. Wexler carefully examined each of Diane's large brown nipples for any signs of discharge. Leaning forward from between her legs, he made brief eye contact with Diane as he carefully felt for lumps under her armpits. During the entire procedure Diane remained supine, her eyes looking downward, following the movements of the physician-stranger who groped her most intimate areas, all while her overhead-stretched arms were attached somewhere over her head.

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As Dr. Wexler approached 16-year-old Tracy Howell, he noted that her upturned feet which were pointing upward from each side of the table, were quite small. As he pulled on latex gloves with a snapping sound, one glance at the young teens wide open vulva caused him to turn to the nurse and request a smaller vaginal speculum than he had used on the two older women. As he sat down between Tracy's wide spread legs, he immediately began visually examining the girl's now-smooth and spread vulva. Without emotion the doctor told the nurse to note in the chart that Tracy was a virgin. Upon hearing him say this aloud, Diane immediately began to cry. Ignoring the sobs of her mother, Wexler spread the teenager's pussy lips with his gloved fingers he carefully examined the hood of her clitoris and inspected the condition of her urethral opening. Tracy now-red face moaned and tensed-up as Wexler slid a single well lubricated and gloved index finger all the way into the young girl's pussy as several male guards looked on. After Wexler had finished with the rest of her vaginal exam he pulled off his gloves and leaned forward to palpate Tracy's small, boyish breasts with his bare hands, lightly pinching each nipple for signs of discharge. The doctor then re-gloved and held out a single finger, upon which a nurse squeezed a bead of lubricant from a white tube.

"No, no please not there" Tracy pleaded as Dr. Wexler began to fully insert his index finger completely into her rectum.

As Wexler threw his final pair of latex gloves in the trash, he glanced across the room at Warden Anne Bowden, who silently nodded back at him. Dr. Wexler then turned to the two nurses and spoke.

"Give each of the three condemned females an enema, drain their bladders with a temporary urethral catheter, and then wash their buttocks, anus, and vulva with antiseptic wipes."

He then walked out of the room without saying another word, or even glancing at Warden Bowden.

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When the two staff nurses had completed their preparation of the condemned, Warden Bowden simply instructed the guards to "proceeded." Upon her command the women were uncuffed and brought up off the examination tables to their feet. Their arms were quickly once again drawn behind their backs, but this time a different type of cuff was applied to the wrist. This cuff was wider, made of leather, and was somewhat padded on the inside. This wrist restraint was then attached to the opposite elbow, so that each woman had her hands restrained behind her back, wrist to elbow, elbow to wrist. In this position, the condemned could not move her arms down to cover her buttocks, nor could she reach forward to shield her boobs or pussy in the front.

The guards then proceeded to fit the women with another device which appeared similar to a two-piece shin-guard used in soccer or hockey. As several guards crouched down next to each prisoner, Diane, Sara and Tracy were each fitted with a pair of hard black plastic lower-leg harnesses which were padded on the inside. This device securely strapped around each of their lower legs between the calf and ankle. The device had a heavy chrome metal ring at each ankle which was used as an attachment point. As the device was strapped down firmly to Diane Howell's lower calves, her lower lip quivered as she sighed in a deep breath. Tears flowed down her cheeks, dripping off her chin onto her large, hanging breasts.

Once the ankle restraint harnesses were in place, Warden Bowden made a quick visual assessment, noting that the prisoners' restraints were firmly positioned at the wrists, elbows, and ankles. Bowden personally pulled on each restraint to make sure that it was secure, especially the restraints just above the ankle. She then picked up a wall telephone and said "this is Warden Bowden; tell the punishment theatre we are ready to proceed immediately."

CONTINUED IN PART THREE

Author's note: This story is completely fiction. Should any name used in this work be the same as that of a real person, it is pure coincidence.

A buzzer sounded and the automatic double doors began to open, exposing a darkened cavernous gymnasium with a very high ceiling and a smooth, level concrete floor. The Punishment Theatre was lit only in the center by overhead stage lights. Beyond the lights a shadowy gallery of nearly fifty witnesses sat in raised bleachers. The equal mix of neatly dressed men and women stared across the vast hall without expression. Once the entry doors had fully opened, the guards quickly hustled the three nude prisoners barefoot across the cold concrete floor, lining them up in front of the witnesses. As Sara, Tracy, and Diane stood completely naked facing the witnesses, their arms still bound tightly behind their backs, the slight shadowing effect of the overhead lighting highlighted the smooth vertical slits of their femininity, making it clear to the observers that the three females had recently been clean-shaven. Each of the three condemned females was now breathing heavy with anticipation, and each held a look of terror on her face.

With each quick deep breath that Diane inhaled in the chilly room, her double-D breasts heaved up and down, accentuated by her drawn-back arms. Her bare feet on the cold floor gave rise to fully erect nipples, highlighted by the shadowing effect of the overhead lights. Diane's full, hanging breasts and wider saddle-bag hips contrasted her with the trim, athletic figure of Sara, and the girlish figure of her own petite, somewhat flat-chested teenage daughter, both of whom stood naked next to her.

Warden Anne Bowden walked into the lighted area and stood just in front of the witnesses, facing the condemned females. Reading from a sheet of paper, she began to speak:

"Diane Howell, Tracy Howell, and Sara Stahler; each having been condemned by the High Court for multiple capital crimes, and each having been handed over to the Department of Punishment for execution of your sentence at this facility, and each having been prepared in a manner prescribed by the Department of Punishment, you shall each now begin to receive ten days of intense punitive punishment, followed by the execution of your final sentence."

Diane's bare chest heaves even harder as Warden Anne Bowden lifts her eyes from the page and looks directly at her. As she does, a faint electrical whirling sound echoes through the punishment chamber as two thin steel cables, about four feet apart from one another, descend from the ceiling in front of Diane.

"Diane Howell, we shall begin with your punishment. Mrs. Howell, you shall be suspended by your ankles in a four-foot-wide spreader bar while your arms remain firmly tied wrist-to-elbow behind your back. In this position a DOCP certified whipmaster will administer 40 strokes across your bare skin with a leather belt."

Tracy and Sara look on in horror and weep as the busty, somewhat full figured 42-year-old mother now hangs upside down by her ankles, her legs spread apart. With her arms tightly restrained behind her upper back, Diane's breasts push outward as her clean shaved pubic mound glistens prominently in the spotlight. Diane's straight brown hair now points to the floor as the cable length is adjusted downward so that her short-dropped hair now clears the floor by only inches. There is a sudden look of terror on her face as her upside-down eyes see a bare-chested, masked man approach her.

The black-hooded whipmaster walks intently toward the naked inverted female carrying a short, two-inch-wide leather strap. All eyes in the gallery are fixed on the whipmaster as he slowly draws back the brown belt-like instrument of punishment.

"No, please don't, just, just wait a minute, there's been a misund…"

Diane's plea for reason is instantly cut off by the nearly invisible forward flash of the whipmaster's forearm as a thunderous crack echoes through the chamber. With the first leather strap stroke landing diagonally across her bare bottom, Diane's full, wide butt-cheeks reflexively tighten as her quivering lips stoically hold back a scream, not wishing to appear in total submission in front of her 16-year-old daughter.

With the second stroke of the strap Diane agonizingly twists her full-figured, inverted buxom torso, reflexively flexing her thighs and knees, causing her butt to protrude and lift upward. Tears of both pain and shame fill to her eyes as her now agonizingly contorted face remains defiantly silent.

With the third loud crack of the strap across her bare butt, Diane Howell breaks into a horrifyingly deep, elongated, moaning cry which she is no longer able to hold back. As she cries aloud, now sounding like a little girl just stung by a dozen wasps, she reflexively bends her knees in a vain attempt to shield her bare bottom from the narrow belt-strap, only to be brought down once again by the weight of her own body. As stroke after methodical stroke raises red welts up across her broad, widespread butt cheeks, Diane vainly attempts to twist her torso into unobtainable positions to avoid the strap, her childlike "no…no" pleas interrupted by deep moaning cries which echo through the gymnasium-like chamber.

After about the twentieth hard belt stoke, the 42-year-old mom, convulsing in pain, mentally drifts back to some childhood nightmare. Her screams of "No, please, please no not the belt, no" are interrupted only by her gasps for breath.

After about the twenty-fifth stroke the whipmaster slows down his methodical pace, now allowing many seconds to pass between each strapping, as if to allow the witnesses to better hear Diane's deep, distressful sobbing without the interrupting snap of the strap.

At thirty strokes he pauses longer as Diane feels the hands of two guards, who now stand to each side of her, firmly brace each knees in its position. Although the exhausting weight Diane's own inverted 160-something-pound frame has now significantly diminished her futile ability to struggle, the experienced whipmaster knows that with the coming strokes she will surely will raise every ounce of energy to do so.

Still standing behind her, the whipmaster lays the next stroke of the strap soundly across Diane's baby-smooth pussy with aloud crack as Diane momentarily gasps silently for breath before bursting into a continuous rolling cry. As the strap crosses Diane's tender spread labia, a small jet of urine squirts up fountain-like from her urethra. Now held in position by the two guards, Diane's final ten strokes savagely tenderize her most intimate feminine area as the witnesses see her beautiful face contort into something found only in a nightmare.

As the final stroke of the strap snaps loudly across Diane's now-swollen pussy-lips, Warden Bowden steps into the spotlight. As Diane continues to sob childlike, still hanging from her ankles, the female Warden addresses the witnesses in a voice to be heard over the crying.

"Ladies and gentlemen, before we continue I need to make several brief announcements. First, DOCP regulations permit us to administer additional punitive punishments to noncompliant condemned prisoners. For this reason Mrs. Howell will receive a few more minutes of punishment before being taken down and moved from the theatre for medical care."

Diane, still deeply sobbing, does not hear the Warden's words, but Tracy bursts out

"Please, please leave my mother alone…please don't whip her anymore, mam…please."

With a cold staring glare toward Tracy, Warden Anne Bowden continues "I have just received notice from Dr. Wexler that the condemned female Mrs. Sarah Stahler did not pass her induction medical examination, and therefore cannot receive punitive punishment at this time." As Sara's mouth opens wide in shocking relief, the Warden motions for guards to remove her from the Punishment Theatre. As the beautiful blond 32-year-old wife and mother is led barefoot and naked from the theatre, Warden Bowden instructs the guards to take her immediately to the prison clinic and place her in a the custody of Dr. Wexler.

"We will now proceed with the initial punitive punishment of condemned prisoner Tracy Howell." As the thin stainless steel cables lower in front of Tracy, Warden Anne Bowden continues, recanting her mother's sentence. "Miss Howell, you shall now be suspended by your ankles in a spreader bar while your arms remain firmly tied wrist-to-elbow behind your back. In this position a Department of Corrections and Punishment Certified Whipmaster will administer 40 strokes across your bare skin with a short two- inch-wide leather strap."

As guards quickly lift the teenager's petite frame and suspend it facing the witnesses by the pre-attached ankle restraints, two female guards roll a small stainless steel cart up next to the still upside down hanging Diane Howell. As Tracy's cables are adjusted so that her long straight red hair falls just short of touching the floor, a female attendant firmly clamps battery-charger-cable type clamps to Diane's nipples. As the weight of the heavy, pinching clamps and their attached cables pull Diane's breasts toward the floor, the whipmaster takes his first stroke across her petite daughter's bare bottom.

Tracy's long red hair wildly dances as she flails about, her strong legs flexing her butt all the way up to the spreader bar after each of the first several strokes, widely spreading open her knees and pussy as she does. The teenager screams for her mother as the whipmaster expertly welts the hide of her smooth round butt.

As Tracy lets out a continuously rolling cry from the belt, a female attendant presses a button on the stainless steel cart and Diane's face convulses in screaming horror as the first of twenty short, sharp, electrical shocks alternatingly pass back and forth between her firmly pinched nipples at a rate of one every five seconds. As Diane screams with each quick electrical burst, she is oblivious to the severe leather belt strapping which her 16-year-old daughter is now receiving.

As Tracy's strapping continues, Diane is finally let down from suspension, her limp female form now placed on a gurney and wheeled out of the theater.

Tracy's tears soak her dangling long red hair as the final strokes of the strap are solidly cracked across her pert round bottom, her face contorted in terror-filled agony. As two male guards to each side of her firmly secure her knees from closing, the whipmaster now begins to extract her punishment from her widespread pussy. As her smooth shaven virgin vulva receives its unspeakable leather strapping, the 16-year-old can only scream and beg for her mother, unaware that she is gone, between her silent, gasping convulsions.

The Prison Clinic

Sara does not know how long she has slept. As she sits up on the edge of the bed and places her bare feet on the thinly carpeted floor she realizes that she is still completely naked but no longer in handcuffs. She gently rubs her wrists in a faint feeling of freedom. It is immediately obvious to her that she is no longer in a prison cell, but in a fairly comfortable hotel-room-like setting, except that there are no windows in the room. A nurse in a white uniform enters the room carrying a large plastic tray.

"Good morning Mrs. Stahler. Dr. Wexler wanted me to serve you a large breakfast just as soon as you awoke" the nurse said as she placed the tray on a small bistro table near the bed. "Once you're finished, he wants you to take a shower" the nurse says, pointing to the bathroom. "There are fresh towels in there, and also a clean set of underpants and a fresh prison uniform that you can put on when you're finished showering. Sorry, inmates don't usually get wear bras around here, something about the under wires, but at least it's better than stumbling about naked" she says with a smile, adding "oh, there's a pair of slippers in there too."

"Where am I" Sara meekly inquires to the nurse.

"This is Dr. Wexler's private in-house quarters where he stays when he's on call overnight. He doesn't use it much since he has a huge home on a big spread down in the canyon just a few miles from here, so occasionally he lets one of the inmates stay here if he feels they need some peace and quiet. The Punishment Facility Medical Clinic is the just outside these doors, but the beds there are set up as an open ward, and it can get a bit noisy and hectic. He thought you'd rest better in here. Once you're showered and dressed, he'll be in to speak with you."

As the warm shower water sprayed down across Sara Stahler's upturned face, she dreamed behind closed eyes an unimaginable fantasy of using her feminine powers to cast an unimaginable omnipotent spell.

To be continued in Part Four

Execution of the Terrorist Housewives Chapter Four

Review of Main Characters :

Diane Howell - Attractive in a businesslike way. Short light-brown hair cut in a Hamilesque-wedge. A touch heavy-set with pendulous (hanging) D-cup breasts adorned with huge thimble-sized, often erect, brown nipples. Full butt with somewhat saddle-bagged hips. Now age 42. Divorced, mother (via c-section) of Tracy.

Tracy Howell - single, thin, rather flat-chested (A-cup) virgin. Now age 16.

Sara Stahler - Now 33, married, mother of one young boy (natural birth). Beautiful Princess Di look-alike with short-to-medium length natural blond hair and flawless skin. Small but firm B-cup tits with small, erect nipples. Athletic.

Anne Bowden - Age 38. Warden of the Federal Punishment Processing Center at Elk Flat, Nevada. Certified to oversee all federal punitive and execution procedures on both male and female inmates. Single, never married.

Alan Wexler, MD - Age 52. Board-certified obstetrician and gynecologist. Also qualified as a general surgeon. Medical Director and second-in-command of the Women's Federal Punishment Processing Center at Elk Flat, Nevada.

Chapter 4 (Sorry this is belated. Enjoy! Love to all my fans, Jill)

Beautiful Princess Di look-alike housewife Sara Stahler stepped dripping from the shower and reached for a towel from Dr. Wexler's bright chrome towel rack. She first dried her arms and legs with doctor's long, thick bath towel, then moved to her firm torso with long strokes across her wet chest and abdomen. Sara momentarily bent and spread her knees in order to run the plush terrycloth across her smooth, dripping-wet feminine lips.

As Sara raised her arms overhead to dry her soaked blond locks, she glanced into the bathroom mirror and saw Dr. Wexler's reflection staring back at her moist naked body from just outside the open bathroom door. Sara was shocked to see that he was completely naked and his cock semi rigid. He had been watching her shower.

“Thank you” Sara said as she smiled at him, clearly referring to his temporary ‘medical reprieve' which had spared her the severe belt whipping which Diane and her daughter Tracy had received the day before.

Unfortunately for Sarah, Wexler's reply was as bold as his nudity. He quickly stepped toward the 33-year-old mom, grabbed her by the back of her hair firmly with his left hand, then slapped her clear across the face with his right hand.

“Listen, you little lip-meat, you mean nothing to me, do you understand?” he roared as he grabbed Sara's head, forcing her to make eye contact with him. Sarah began to cry as she stared in terror back at him, a red welt mark rising on her left cheek. Her fantasy bubble had burst.

Still forcing eye contact, Wexler continued “You may have gotten through life by manipulating men with your pretty smile, or your pouty, cock sucking lips, or screaming a bit when you gave up your pussy, but there is only one reason you got off the hook yesterday honey, and that's because when I examined you it was clear to me that your prissy little bitch-self had never given up her asshole, and I thought it was a shame for such a nice tight little butt-hole to go to the meat farm unused.”

“Yes, you're going to give up every inch of it, honey. And don't worry, there won't be any need for handcuffs or restraints, because you'll hold every position just as you're told. That's because if you don't, I'll bullwhip you from head to toe and then dip you in a vat of vinegar. Do you understand?

Sara wept, tears running down her face as she shook her head affirmatively.

The sadist doctor dragged Sara's beautiful naked female form over to his bed and ordered her to lie on her back. She obeyed. Wexler didn't want to take her on her knees in the typical ass-fuck fashion. He wanted to look her into her eyes while he raped her virgin asshole. He wanted to see her face as she screamed. He wanted to see her expressions as the soccer-mom housewife endured a virgin anal rape.

The only lubricant Wexler used to enter Sara's rectum was the clear natural pre-come which was dripping from the swollen knob-head of his rigid dick. As he proceeded to mount Sara in a face-to-face modified-missionary position, he ordered her to place the bottoms of her feet flat against each side of his neck. This posture forced Sara's knees to draw up under her armpits and caused them to spread apart as Wexler leaned forward to make close eye-to-eye contact with her. The athletic soccer-mom was built perfectly for this kind of dexterous, tight, high-pitched sex.

Sara obediently kept her hands straight up over her head as Wexler instructed. Once he positioned his swollen, bulbous cock-head against Sara' anal door, Wexler used both hands to grab the blonde's head, forcing eye contact throughout the entire anal rape.

Sara alternately moaned, screamed, and cried as Dr. Wexler forcefully took in minutes that which she had never willingly given up in 33 years. The position in which Wexler had chosen to fuck Sara allowed his hard phallus to fully penetrate her rectum with pounding, rapid strokes. His nurses' most assuredly heard Sara's screaming all the way down the hall at their Nurses Station. But they were accustomed to Wexler's sexual shenanigans and took these sort things, especially with condemned females, in stride.

Wexler convulsed in orgasmic bliss as he held Sara tightly, ejaculating his semen deep into her colon. After he came inside her, Wexler laid atop her for several minutes, his cock still semi rigid inside Sara's tight forbidden asshole.

After a half hour of laying next to her, Wexler ordered Sara to get up and shower again. This time he joined her, making her wash his body and worship his cock, licking his wet, dripping dick and balls as she knelt beneath the downpour.

After resting again in his ‘on-call' bedroom for about another hour, Dr. Wexler ordered Sara to kneel on the bed in front of him. He then knelt also, turned his back to her and bent over, laying his chest and shoulders on the bed, with his ass-cheeks high in the air and his knees slightly spread. Wexler then ordered the 33-year-old mom to lick and tongue his asshole. For more than 20 minutes Sara was humiliatingly forced to rim-worship Wexler. He loved the deeply intimate attention from the beautiful housewife, and the act once again aroused the doc, and once again he fucked Sara very hard in the ass, this time lasting much longer. As he orgasm in her butt for the second time in as many hours, Wexler thought that Sara was so beautiful it would certainly be easy to fall in love with her.

Satisfied that he had stretched out her anal sphincter muscles sufficiently, Wexler picked up the phone and called for his nurses to send an orderly with a wheelchair and restraint tape.

”I'm going to show you around the facility” Wexler said as the huge black orderly duct-taped Sarah's arms and waist to the wheelchair, followed by tape to the mouth.

While the naked, condemned blonde was being securely gagged and strapped down to the wheelchair, Dr. Wexler explained that he was going to give her a tour of some of the ‘most private and secure' venues round the facility, “Stuff the public never sees.” “I'm going to show you off.” he said as the orderly wheeled her out of the room, the now laughing doctor in tow. “And I'm going to show you what you've got coming, too” he added with a bit of sarcasm.

The orderly pushed Sara's wheelchair down a long, wide, and conspicuously empty institutional-looking hallway. The corridor was brightly lit and was spotlessly clean. It was wider than a standard hospital hallway and had a somewhat higher ceiling. As the wheelchair with the helpless naked condemned housewife rolled along, Dr. Wexler walked beside and narrated the tour.

Soon a line of figures appeared in the distance, coming down the hallway in the opposite direction of the trio. As the group approached, Sarah was able to see that it was comprised of two dark blue uniformed female guards who were escorting a single line of seven female prisoners. As they passed in the hallway the doctor and his orderly seem to pay no attention to them. Sara thought this was somewhat odd, since all seven of the female prisoners were completely naked. They were not handcuffed but marched obediently in-line. They appeared to her to range in age from teens to late middle-aged. Two were moderately obese; one was quite thin. Several of the females had very short-cropped hairdos; none had hair touching the shoulder. Each woman's pussy was completely shaved bald; the crack of her femininity clearly visable.

After they passed Wexler said “Those women were just leaving the prep area. They're probably all going to be whipped sometime later today. Then they'll be sent home. I can tell they're not condemned prisoners because they were not handcuffed or restrained in any way.”

Wexler continued his commentary as the orderly continued to wheel the gagged mom down the corridor.

“We only have two kinds of prisoners here Sara, those who will be strapped, whipped, caned, or in some other way corporally punished and then quickly released after medical attention, and those who will be put to death, occasionally following a punitive corporal punishment if the capital crime was uniquely heinous.”

“I know it sounds like a harsh system Sara, but I believe it's better than five or ten years in prison. That is a waste of a person's useful years, and a waste of the government's money. This system saves the government money, and we know it is a clear deterrent because crime is down 70% since it was implemented a decade ago.”

“And it is even better for the prisoners, because the convicted can get on with their lives after only 48 hours or so here. And for the harshest crimes, our constitutionally improved methods of execution provide a strong deterrent. As I said, the statistics prove it.”

As the three strolled down the once again empty corridor, Dr. Wexler rambled on, clearly revealing an interest in his work.

“Before 2037, there were 9 federal correction facilities for women; now there is just one, and this is it. And I am the primary medical officer and sole gynecologist and obstetrician for the thousands of women who pass through here each year.”

Wexler briefly paused from his lecture to answer his cell phone. Hanging up, he immediately continued.

“And the cost savings and crime reduction is even greater at the male unit. Before 2037 there were 37 federal correction facilities for men. Now there are just three. We got out of the warehouse business and into the punishment business. It works. The statistics don't lie.”

“I'm here because my wife and three children were killed 16 years ago by an intoxicated driver who was sky high on cocaine. He was a four-time impaired-driving offender, but the prior system had failed to remove him as a threat to my family, or two others. My life was literally thrown away in a single moment. Now, with drunk drivers getting the cane, drug and alcohol impaired driving is down 90%. A few simple strokes of the stick could have saved my family's life. My wife was 33 years old also Sara, and I had a little boy who was six, just like you have.”

“The only reason I'm here and not at one of the male facilities is because of my prior training in obstetrics and gynecology. So now this facility is now my litany, Sara, my life. This is what I do. I'll spend out the rest of my days here helping to straighten out a bent society that took my family. The only other thing I want to do more is die.”

Tears rolled down Sara Stahler's cheeks as she listened to Wexler's words, words which brought her visions of the many thousands of grieving households which had lost loved ones in the tragic tunnel bombing she had played a part in.

Wexler fell silent as his cell phone rang again. As he listened to the caller, he motioned for the orderly to stop the wheelchair. From the other end of the hall Sara could see several figures approaching. As they got closer it was clear to her that five uniformed guards were escorting a single female prisoner. All but one of the guards were large males. The prisoner was a short, pear-shaped, older woman who appeared to be in her mid-fifties. She had rather heavy thighs and had several small rolls of abdominal fat to complement her wide hips.

As the group proceeded closer toward Sara's wheelchair she could see that the approaching prisoner's wrists were handcuffed behind her back. Her salt-and-pepper hair was clipped quite close in a rather boyish fashion. As with the other prisoners, her pussy was clean-shaven, but she also had a urethral catheter tube which exited between her pussy lips and led to a small clear collection bag taped to her calf. Despite being slightly obese, the woman was not more than 5'2” tall, and despite her broad hips, her breasts were rather small. She did have large, rather dark brown nipples which contrasted with her very white, untanned skin.

As they came even closer, Sara was struck by the contrast of the fit and crisply uniformed officers escorting the stripped, shaved, and rather lumpy pale-white female form.

Sara saw no real emotion in the woman's face, only the blank resignation of a late-middle-aged female who had been stripped, quite literally, of any shred of modesty or dignity. Her only shred of remaining femininity was the very crack of her bald, girl-like pussy, which was now paraded openly before strangers.

Just before the group reached Sarah's wheelchair they turned sharply and entered a large room through wide double doors .

As the doors closed leaving the trio alone in the hallway, Wexler crouched to speak to the gagged Sarah directly eye to eye.

“I have a little surprise for you Sara. You're going to get to watch a little preview of what is going to happen to you and Diane and Tracy in about 10 days.”

With this the doctor glanced up at the orderly and nodded his head toward the large double doors, and the men calmly wheeled tape-bound Sara into the Medical Execution Chamber.

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As Sara entered the large, brightly lit room she immediately heard the pleadings of the short, heavyset older woman who stood completely naked, surrounded by fully clothed, uniformed personnel. The woman stood next to what looked like a doctor's examination table, except that it was shorter and narrower, had no stirrups, and rested on what looked like a hydraulic column.

Uniformed personnel busied themselves around the now crying woman. “No, no, please, please just kill me, please shoot me, no, no not this” she said as both male and female execution chamber employees crouched down and strapped small black leather harnesses securely to each of her ankles. As the lumpy, grandmotherly woman's ankles were prepared, several guards standing behind her tightly secured black leather wrist restraints to each of her forearms before removing her handcuffs.

As the four large male guards lifted the short, plump woman up by her arms and legs, tears dripped down one final time onto her small breasts. The guards laid her back on the small black-vinyl-covered bench. She was placed so that her buttocks would hang completely off of one end. Her wrists were then secured straight up over her head and attached to a metal bracket which was attached to, and protruded from, one end of the execution table. This positioning stretched her small white breasts almost flat, with her only feminine sign above the waist now being her nipples.

Black leather straps were then affixed to secure her shoulders down to the upper corners of the bench. The older woman's upper body was now completely restrained.

Four guards, two for each leg, now took the woman's heavyset thighs and adducted them up to her chest and then opened them wide, securely strapping each knee to the sides of the bench. The 52-year-old's pussy was now spread-wide and the soles of her feet pointed straight up and faced the ceiling.

The mature woman groaned with the strain of her positioning as her feet were then pulled up to each side of her head and her black-leather ankles restraints were clipped to an attachment point near her wrists. The condemned woman's of the external reproductive organs were now completely spread and positioned fully off the end of the short examination bench.

A female prison nurse quickly stepped between the condemned prisoner's legs and roughly pulled the catheter from the woman's pee-hole as she groaned. While the nurse detached the collection bag from the condemned female's leg, another execution technician attached blood pressure and pulse monitors to both of her up stretched arms. The nurse then noted aloud into a tape recording device attached to her lapel that the condemned prisoner had been adequately prepped with the complete clean-shaving of her vulva, mons pubis, and peri-anal area, and that her bladder had been completely drained.

As the staff made preparations for the execution of 52-year-old Irma Ladler, Dr. Wexler positioned Sara's wheelchair so that she would have a full view of the execution. He then crouch behind the wheelchair and quietly whispered to Sara that the plump, mature lady who was about to die it a very painful and humiliating fashion had in fact poisoned to death two of her three ex-husbands for inheritance and insurance money.

Wexler explained that Mrs. Ladler had a history of marrying elderly, wealthy men and then poisoning them. Both husbands had died a slow and painful death from the rat poison. As Wexler spoke, Sara could hear him slipping on what sounded like examination gloves as an execution nurse assisted him in donning a surgical gown.

Sara could see Mrs. Ladler's bare chest as it heaved rapidly with deep anxious breaths as the mature woman pleaded and cried. Irma's head was propped up on a head rest which forced her to look down between her legs.

Doors to the execution chamber opened and in walked Warden Anne Bowden. The Warden was immediately informed that the condemned prisoner was fully prepared and ready to be put to death in the manner prescribed by the court.

At that moment a curtain at one side of the room opened and a small gallery of witnesses sitting behind a glass window could be seen to collectively gasped at first seeing the extreme strapped down positioning of the heavyset Mrs. Ladler with her ankles up over her shoulders and her pussy spread wide open. The witness gallery was an equal mix of about 20 men and women. Once the curtain was open, Warden Bowden spoke.

“Irma Ladler, having been found guilty on two counts of murder for profit, a capital offense, you have been sentenced to suffer death by the surgical removal of your female reproductive organs, including the total removal of your vulva and clitoris, without anesthesia, along with your entire internal vagina. It is the order of the court that this sentence shall be carried out at this time and place. Following the removal of your feminine tissues it shall be the discretion of Dr. Alan Wexler as to your final method of death. May God have mercy on your soul.”

With these words Warden Anne Bowden turned and left the execution chamber to join the witnesses behind the glass. Dr. Wexler approached Mrs. Ladler with a scalpel in his hand and immediately began to cut a wide circular area around the condemned woman's shaved pussy lips. The fat lady did sing, and it wasn't pretty. As Mrs. Ladler screamed and pleaded, Dr. Wexler cut her pussy lips completely away, first using the sharp blade to cut off each of her labia majora. As Irma wept and screamed hysterically, he then quickly sliced off the labia minora, holding each one out with a hemostat, a type of small surgical pliers.

Wexler then grabbed and pulled up Irma's clitoris with the tiny surgical pliers, forcefully pulling it from her body with one hand. In his other hand he used surgical scissors to completely cut off the clit as Mrs. Flagler screamed and bucked wildly against her restraints. He then made a deep incision from amongst pubis up to her belly button. As assistants quickly open this flap, Dr. Wexler went in and internally began to cut off the base of the vagina from the uterus at the cervix. As the condemned woman wailed in screamed, Dr. Wexler pulled her entire internal vagina out of her pelvis.

As the execution assistants rapidly cauterized blood vessels on the screaming woman's pelvis in order to stop the bleeding from between her legs, Wexler moved up and began to cut her nipples off, first grabbing each one firmly with the pliers. Each nipple, along with its areola was completely cut away using a broad scalpel.

Wexler stepped back as the hydraulic pillar underneath the execution table moved and lifted the condemned into a vertical position, her feet still over her head, the hole of her former pussy dripping blood to the floor. As Sara Stahler looked on in horror at the prospects of her own death, Dr. Wexler used a large scalpel to firmly cut Irma Ladler from between her tits down through her belly to her mons pubis.

As blood ran freely from her now open abdomen, Mrs. Ladler was clearly still alive, her chest heaving as she moaned and even continued to cry faintly. Wexler checked her blood pressure and pulse on a monitor and saw both were dropping. After checking the monitor Wexler just stepped back to let the woman slowly die. The fat little lady, now the tit-less and pussy-less, hung in the new position from her wrists and ankles, her bloody bottom now pointing toward the floor.

Wexler turned to Sarah who was crying in sobbing behind her gag in the wheelchair. Wexler had failed to tell Sara that he thought Mrs. Ladler had gotten off light. Per the court order, she had not been whipped were given any other type of corporal punishment before she was put to death.

Wexler turned back toward a technician and singled that it was time to cut Irma Ladler down and harvest any remaining organs while she was still slightly alive. Though she was old for transplant consideration, Wexler thought there might be something salvageable from the woman.

Wexler and the orderly wheeled Sara from the execution chamber as Mrs. Ladler, barely alive, was unhooked from the execution bench and her body was spread eagled on the wide journey as transplant technicians proceeded to open her up further.

On the way down the hall Wexler had the orderly detour into another side room as he continued to give Sara the ‘cook's tour' of the Women's Federal Punishment Center.

“This is our juvenile program. It is a favorite with me and with Warden Bowden because it gives juvenile offenders the message early on, and keeps them out of the system later in life. I personally call this the billion-dollar room, because what goes on here saves the government billions and billions of dollars in future expense. Why? Because should one get in here as a young person, they'll never want to come back again for the rest of their life.”

What Sarah saw was a line up of a dozen young girls who had just arrived at the facility. They ranged in age from what looked like 10 to 14. They were lined up against the wall fully clothed, each with her arms stretched out over her head. Every one looked frightened, some had tears rolling down their cheeks. Wexler could see that Sara was shocked by the youthfulness of some of the convicted offenders.

“The law now allows us to get them here as young as age eight. Executions are not performed on anyone under 16, but the earlier we can get a potential offender in the program, the more likely she will be a good citizen throughout her life and we will never see her again.”

“And drug use among youth is way down since this program started” Wexler added.

A crew of six female corrections officers, most of them older and rather matronly looking, attended to the young offenders. From their conversation it was clear that these young girls had just been separated from a larger group of older teenagers in another room.

As Dr. Wexler, the orderly, and Sarah watched, the matrons took one girl at a time away from the wall and proceeded to strip her naked. As the stripping began, Sarah could hear several of the young girls crying. The girls knew that they are to receive a leather belt, and that witnesses, including family members and classmates, could observe their strapping. The courts encouraged other schoolchildren to witness these corporal punishments as a deterrent.

The first girl in line was only 10 years old and she was quickly stripped completely naked and placed back in line. The process continued as each young girl was stripped of everything including her socks, jewelry, and even hair bows.

As they were stripped, two of the girls were found to be menstruating and were taken away to be processed later. The remaining 10 girls were now separated into two groups, those with pubic hair, and those who were prepubescent. The girls with hair were taken off to another room to have their pussies shaved bare.

Four girls remained in the room. They all appeared very young and very frightened. All still held their arms overhead as they had been instructed. Several continue to cry. None of the four and any sign of breast development with the exception of several swollen, budding areolas. None of the four had any pussy hair and their puffy girl-like labia were clearly visible.

Warden Anne Bowden entered the room carrying a short leather strap. She walked up to a small leather bench about the size and height of a large foot stool. A guard handed her a paper listing information about the four remaining convicted juvenile females. After looking at it, Warden Bowden spoke.

“Megan Splazer” the Warden read as three female guards led one of the four young girls up to the leather bench. “Megan, you have been sentenced to 10 strokes of the leather strap across your bare bottom to be applied by female corrections officer. As a deterrent to drug use among youth, the court is also ordered us to bring as many of your fifth-grade classmates here to witness your punishment.”

With these words the 11-year-old girl's face turned horrifyingly red as a large curtain at one end of the room slowly true open. Megan began to sob as she looked through the glass and saw her teacher a dozen of her classmates looking back at her. She stood facing them completely naked, her young pussy crack clearly visible to every boy and girl in the group.

The three middle-aged matron's quickly grabbed Megan and laid her upper back across the short leather bench. Two matrons held the girl's arms and shoulders down, while a third grabbed the girl's ankles and pulled them up over her head, bending her knees in the diaper changing position so that her bare bottom was fully exposed to the strap.

The young girl cried and sobbed deafeningly loud as Warden Anne applied to strokes diagonally across her buttocks. Some of the strokes slightly touch the girl's labia. The 10 strokes were administered rapidly and with adequate force, and when the girl was done she was picked up and carried toward the window for a moment said that her peers could see her tears. She was then quickly carried out to be dressed and reunited with her parents.

The witnesses, who had heard everything over a loudspeaker, were also quickly escorted out of the witness room as the curtain was closed and the next group of witnesses was brought in.

The next girl, only 10 years old, sobbed hysterically when her name was called. She had witnessed Megan's punishment, and she also knew that her two brothers and her parents had been ordered by the judge to witness her punishment. In addition, six classmates from her school had been randomly selected and ordered to attend.

The 10-year-old was ordered to face the curtain with her hands overhead as the curtain opened. As the curtain through open she was deeply humiliated upon seeing her brothers and classmates, and she immediately put her hands down to cover her vulva.

With a nod from Warden Bowden two guards took the 10-year-old girl's arms and strapped them tightly behind her back ‘wrist to elbow' so that she could not cover herself, front or rear. Sara Stahler noticed that the girls parents were crying on the other side of the glass. The girl was placed on the bench and held down firmly, her legs overhead and spread just like the previous girl. Then Warden Bowden spoke.

“Carla Maldes, you are only 10 years old but you have already committed a crime that would be a high felony if you're an adult. The court is very concerned about this. The court is ordered me to apply 12 strokes of the leather strap to your bare buttocks, and another 4 strokes across your female lips. The court has ordered that this punishment be done in the presence of family members if possible.”

As the young girls sentence was read by Warden Bowden the girl's mother began to weep uncontrollably and had to sit down. Her brothers continued to stare at the spectacle, as did the six classmates, which included three boys and three girls.

The young girl shrieked and kicked as the Warden Bowden strapped her across the buttocks.

“Hold her still” demanded the Warden as she reeled off a dozen fast belt strokes, each of which left an instant large red welt on the girl's bare cheeks.

Once the first 12 strokes were completed Anne Bowden signaled for a fourth matron to help hold down the girl as she prepared to strap the youngster's labia. Two matrons held the arms and now two held the legs with knees up as the female warden strapped the little girl's pussy with the short piece of soft brown leather.

“Let's go” Dr. Wexler commanded the orderly as the sound of the little girls shrieking and grew deafening. “I should have brought my earplugs” he thought aloud as they wheeled Sarah from the Juvenile Corporal Punishment Room.

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The next day….

“I'm tired of you screwing up the program here Doc, just because you want to get some strange pussy” shouted Warden Anne Bowden into the telephone at Wexler. “Now get that Stahler bitch back in the program right away or we are we are both going to be in some serious shit with the folks in Washington.”

Wexler had enjoyed keeping Sara as his personal fuck-slave in his on-call in bedroom at the prison for the past few days, but he knew the party was over. Diane Howell and her daughter Tracy were both healing well from their strapping and whipping three days earlier, and Wexler knew he had to get on with their next phase of punitive punishments, the court ordered false pregnancy. He hated those, because they require him to actually do his job of being an obstetrician, which he tried to get away from when he took the prison job 10 years earlier. After his wife and kids were killed 16 years earlier, Wexler began dreading delivering babies, the job he had been primarily trained to do. He dreaded it because it reminded him too much of his own personal loss.

Wexler also knew that he would have to began with the punitive whipping and strapping of Sara today. There would be no way to put it off any longer. “Oh, what the hell” he thought, Sara had not responded sexually to him at all since yesterday when he had forced to her to witness the gruesome medical execution of Mrs. Ladler.

He picked up the phone and informed scheduling clerk at the Corporal Punishments Department that Mrs. Sara Stahler was now cleared medically to begin receiving her corporal punishment.

“We can put it on for this afternoon” they replied.

“Good, then go ahead and schedule all three of them for the false delivery the day after tomorrow” Wexler responded.

The doctor then hung his head on his desk and wished he had had the courage to shoot himself when the state police had called him with that fateful phone call over 15 years ago. “What kind of monster am I?” He thought to himself.

Execution of the Terrorist Housewives Chapter Five by Jill Crokett Copyright 2005. This story is fiction. All names are completely fictitious and any resemblance to a real person is coincidental)

Review of Main Characters :

Diane Howell - Attractive in a businesslike way. Short light-brown hair cut in a no-nonsense wedge. A touch overweight with pendulous (hanging) D-cup breasts adorned with large thimble-sized brown nipples. Full butt with somewhat saddle-bagged hips. Age 42. Divorced, mother (via c-section) of Tracy.

Tracy Howell - single, thin, rather flat-chested (A-cup) virgin. Now age 16.

Chapter 5

It was exactly 2:45 in the afternoon on her fourth day at the punishment facility when 33-year-old housewife and soccer mom Sara Stahler heard the door to Dr. Wexler's private quarters at the Women's Federal Punishment Facility being unlocked from the outside. The beautiful princess Di look-alike sat on his bed naked, wrapped only in a bath towel, having been left there just an hour earlier are by Wexler and his orderly, after the pair had taken her on a whirlwind tour of the facility, which included her witnessing the gruesome butchery-like execution of an overweight late-middle-aged widow and the belt-whippings of two schoolgirls.

As she lifted her head to see who was coming in the door, with her hopes being it was Wexler, Sara was instantly both disappointed and terrified at seeing four large uniformed guards accompanied by a single petite, middle-aged female guard. Sara's heart raced as the guards approached her and ordered her to stand, face them, and raise her arms overhead. As Sara obeyed, the female guard pulled loose her towel and dropped it to the floor. The female guard then looked at each of the male guards for glancing second and, turning to walk out the door said “you've got exactly 12 minutes with her boys, and not a minute longer. I must have her in the Corporal Punishment Theater in absolutely not less than 40 minutes, and I'll need most of that for prep”

As the female guard closed the door to Dr. Wexler's room behind her, Sarah watched in horror as the four guards began to unbuckle their belts and drop their trousers. She had mentally anguished over her upcoming bullwhipping and belt strapping, but she had never imagined that, along with being forced to give up her tight anus to Wexler's multi-rapes, she would also have to give up her pussy to a gang of guards.

Sara was quickly forced to her knees and ordered to momentarily suck each guard in turn. She did not dare to disobey. When one of the younger white guards abruptly ejaculated in her mouth, Sara was ordered to swallow, a task she had become quite use to while servicing the demands her often abusive alcoholic husband. As she swallowed the young guard's thick ejaculate, Sara's mind momentarily drifted back to a fraternity party her had attended in her freshman year in college, just before she had met her husband. After becoming intoxicated she had been taken upstairs in the frat house, stripped of all her clothes, and was coerced to kneel and suck off three frat boys as they stood in a row. She never saw any of them again.

Within moments the guards had Sara up on the bed straddling atop an older white guard as a well-hung black guard prepared to enter her rectum from behind. Sara screamed at the double penetration as the African rammed his rigid cock all the way up her ass. Both of the guards came simultaneously while the beautiful mom cried as she was raped with two dicks at once.

The fourth and final guard, seeing that time was about to run out, quickly shoved Sara onto her back, threw her ankles up over his shoulders, and quickly made a full penetration of her now cum-oozing vagina. As this last guard fucked her he made close, direct-eye contact and said, as he orgasmed, “now we're gonna take you down the hall bitch, and your pretty bottom's gonna get whipped raw.”

The female guard reentered the room as the last male guard climbed off Sara, just as the other three male guards finished dressing.

“Get her shackled boys, we're running late” the female Guard commanded.

Sara was roughly pulled up off the bed, her pussy lips dripping cum. Pulled to her feet, her arms were forcefully drawn behind her and quickly handcuffed. With her upper extremities pulled behind her back in the chilly, windowless air-conditioned Nevada room, Sara's fully erect nipples popped out from her firm B-cup breasts like jewels on a crown.

The guards quickly hustled naked, handcuffed Sara down the hall to a room labeled “Corporal Prep Room 4”. As the hydraulic-powered double doors opened Sara immediately recognized the obstetrical-looking table in the center of the room, its bright medical spotlight overhead. An all-female team of what appeared to be three white-uniformed nurses, technically referred to in the corrections world as ‘punishment prep technicians', awaited Sara's arrival in the brightly lit, white-tiled room.

What Sara did not recognize was the rather strange-looking X-shaped table next to OB/Gyn procedure table. She would soon learn that the X-table helped facilitate the full-body shaving of a prisoner in preparation for his or her punishment by strapping. One of the ‘nurses' ordered the guards to position Sara first on her back on the obstetrical table as they quickly moved to strap her legs into the troughs wide and high.

One of the nurses administered three deep-cleansing enemas to Sara by inserting series of lightly lubricated tubes into her pinching anal ring and gliding them far up into her colon. After Sara's colon was thoroughly flushed clean, another Preparation Technician reshaved the mom with a full obstetrical prep, completely shaving her from her navel to her knees and thus removing her pussy mound it of its nubbly four-day growth.

After enduring the humiliating shaving in front leave four male guards Sara was washed with warm soapy warm water from though waist down and dried with a soft towel. A nurse then force-drained her bladder with a catheter tube which she slipped achingly far up Sara's pee-hole.

Her vulva and rectum now prepped clinically clean, Sara was unbuckled by the guards, lifted up, and carried over to the X-shaped table where she was turned over and strapped face-down in a spread-eagle position. In this face down position the nurses proceeded to shave every bit of even the finest baby-fuzz hair from Sara's lower back, buttocks, posterior thighs and calves. When they were finished the lead nurse ordered the guards turn Sara face up on the table. The female prep team then continued the total-body shaving procedure on her spread-eagled tits, belly, and fore-thighs. Sara's blond tossed-about head hair was left untouched.

Once the condemned female prisoner was shaved from the neck down, the guards unstrapped her and lifted her off of the X-cross. The female guard ordered the naked 33-year-old to stand in the center of the room crucifixion-style with her arms humiliatingly stretched out to each side. She ordered Sara to position her feet slightly apart while two of the female technicians firmly strapped special harness devices to each ankle. Each ankle harness had a chrome attachment point just lateral to the outside ankle. As her lower legs were strapped with the implements of torture and execution, another female technician began to strap a pair of similar devices to her wrists and forearms. The wrist restraints were fastened even tighter than the ankle harnesses.

“We're running late” growled the short, forty-something, female guard. The technicians remained behind to clean up the prep room as the five guards, led by the petite female guard, escorted the nude and completely smooth 33-year-old Mrs. Stahler to her fate down the hall in the Corporal Punishment Theater.

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The six figures stopped at the end of the long white corridor and stood silently before the stainless-steel double doors as they slowly opened automatically. Mrs. Stahler felt a chill as the guards shuffled her into the large, dark, cavernous theater by her upper arms. She was not handcuffed and wore only her wrist and ankle harnesses. It was so dark in the theatre that she was aware of nothing except for the fact that she was about to be left very much alone. After escorting her forward about 40 feet on the smooth-but-cold concrete floor, the guards left Sara standing there all alone in the bright white glare of a single spotlight, the shadow-like image of her shaved three-inch-high pussy crack illuminated by the distant overhead light.

Sara Stahler stood as the only object illuminated in the silent, gymnasium-like Corporal Punishment Theater. She could hear the collective breathing of a group of people, but she could see no one. To an observer hidden in the dark shadows Sara appeared beautiful, the perfect totally naked feminine form, her creamy smooth skin completely shaved, her nipples erect as she stood ballerina-like on the cold, gray polished-concrete floor, her arms submissively at her side as she stared straight forward into the darkness, her now disheveled, recently unkempt blond hair hanging just short of her shoulders. To the hidden gallery of observers Sara's face appeared as a complex expression of stark fear, childish naivety, and abject submission. Stripped bare of everything; clothes, jewelry, make-up, pubic hair and even basic dignity, she presented herself as the bare essence of feminine beauty. Standing there naked in the contrasting bright glare and crisp dark shadow of the Punishment Theatre spotlight, Mrs. Sara Stahler, housewife and mother, was at that moment at the pinnacle of all she would ever be as a feminine being. Whatever her femininity was, both physically and visually, was about to be converted into pure sound.

As Sarah's eyes adjusted to the dark she became aware of two metal posts protruding from the ceiling next to her. These solid steel I-beam rods were about 4 feet apart and projected out of the darkened ceiling above. Both steel beams stopped about 5 feet above the floor. On the bottom of each beam was a single large chrome-plated steel attachment ring. The square metal posts were not only bracketed and reinforce to the ceiling so that they could not shake or vibrate, but they were also welded together with a steel crossbeam, giving them the appearance of a small upside-down rugby or American football goalpost.

Sara looked to her side and saw the steel, upside-down goal post with its menacing-looking attachment ring's, then glanced down at the harness on her left her wrist, with its corresponding chrome attachment clip, and gave out an audible sigh which lightly echoed through the near-silence of the gymnasium-like chamber.

Though she could hear breathing sounds and the occasional clearing of a throat, Sara was still not aware of the bleachers holding the witness gallery which included relatives of victims from the tunnel disaster, along with dozens of government officials, who sat staring at her as she stood naked before them on the cold concrete floor. But the witnesses could see her quite clearly, her erect nipples raising and lowering with each anxious breath as they danced about her somewhat flat but firm, athletic breasts.

In the shadow of the spotlight the witnesses could see her flat stomach with its firm abdominal muscles, the beautiful symmetry of her somewhat mature but still youthful-looking face, the face of a 33-year-old woman who was still young but had lived life fully as a wife and mother. They could see the bare crack of her two touching labia, labia which still retained their girlish youthful appearance despite having been spread wide to bear a son and make her a mother.

The collective breathing of the gallery increased as the huge group witnessed the guards carry the condemned female prisoner into the room and place her under the spotlight. All assembled knew what they were there to witness, but the collective consciousness did not hit them until they saw the beautiful wife and mother, stripped and shaved completely bare, escorted into the room by uniformed guards.

They all knew that they were there to witness the corporal punishment of the heinous crime committed by an early-middle-aged housewife, but the reality of what they were about to witness only struck them fully once Sara Stahler bare essence stood before them in total submission. Seeing Sara stand alone and naked under the spotlight prompted many of the men in the witness gallery to cross their legs, and many of the women to clear the throats and straighten their blouses slightly so as not to so overtly reveal their erect nipples.

Just as Warden Anne Bowden stepped out onto the Punishment Theater floor the house lights raised slightly, illuminating the gallery of witnesses to Sara's view. She gasped at the great sea of witnesses that stared back at her from just 40 feet away. For the beautiful, modest, and proper Sara, it was a moment of total humiliation even worse than her anal rape.

A second spotlight illuminated Warden Bowden as she began to address the witnesses in the bleachers. She looked stunning in a new bright red business suit with white blouse and knee length skirt. Her red pumps matched the suit perfectly and a simple but elegant short choker-length pearl necklace added the final touch. Standing next to Sara and dressed to the nines, the professional looking government representative Anne Bowden presented herself to the gallery as a stark feminine contrast to the totally naked condemned prisoner Sara Stahler.

“Ladies and gentlemen, today you're going to witness the initial court ordered corporal punishment of one of America's worst convicted terrorists.”

“Because of the nature of the crime and the great number of victims, the Department of Corrections has allowed for 10 times the normal number of witnesses to be present today. Though there are over 400 of you assembled here today, as you know, many thousands more applied for the privilege of witnessing the punitive corporal punishment and execution of the condemned prisoner before you today, and you 400 plus men and women were chosen by that lottery to witness this initial phase of the sentence. In keeping with Department guidelines, we were still required to see that an equal number of female and male witnesses were present, so the lottery process was somewhat skewed in order to follow those mandated directives.”

“As most of you are aware, as a special consideration to the parents of the tunnel disaster's school bus victims, the Department of Corrections conducted a separate special lottery to select 100 of the witnesses from among the parents of the schoolchildren victims. As director of this facility, I extend to you parents a special welcome, and I personally extend my condolences to you. If I or my staff can do anything to make your stay here at this facility more comfortable, please don't hesitate to let us know. My staff has attempted accommodate gallery seating arrangements for spouses and family members.”

“I must insist that you remain in your seats until the proceedings are completed. As you have already been instructed, do not shout or speak aloud. If you become nauseous or ill, simply raise your hand and a corrections officer will escort you from the Punishment Theater.”

Karen and William Schnell sat next to one another in the witness gallery and looked out on the stark, bare concrete punishment theater floor as they listened to Warden Bowden. When the double doors had opened and the guards first escorted Sara Stahler in under the spotlight, 36-year-old Karen Schnell, dressed in a simple, calf-length light blue causal linen dress, reached next to her and grasped her husband's hand and squeezed it tight. She did not let it go. It was the first time she had made any unprompted physical contact with her husband since her nine-year-old son had been burned alive on his school bus in the tunnel disaster a year earlier. Karen and Bill had made love only once since their only child was killed, and it had been uncomfortably awkward for both of them. The attempt at intimacy was so awkward for Bill that he never tried again, and the couple had simply froze up physically.

Karen's sudden simple act of affection shocked Bill, and he was surprised to find that as he stared forward at the stripped condemned female prisoner and squeezed back on his wife's hand, he developed a massive, dripping erection in the lightly faded contractors blue jeans he had worn to the proceedings.

Karen held Bill's hand tight all through Warden Bowden's introduction. Once Bowden had finished speaking, Karen, excited at seeing her son's brutal killer finally brought to justice before her very eyes, turned slightly and leaned toward her husband's ear and whispered “I want them to whip her bottom raw Bill, then I want you to take me back to the hotel, stripped me, shaved me just like her, and make me a new baby. Please Bill, I want to see this bitch die, then I want you to make me a new baby.”

40-year-old small building contractor William Schnell nearly shot off his load right there in his pants as his wife whispered to him and squeezed his hand with love as tears rolled down her cheeks. At that moment he honestly didn't know if he could make it through the proceedings without coming in his pants. What he didn't know was that more than a dozen husbands and wives sitting next to each other in the gallery wondered the same thing.

Warden Bowden turned toward Sara, who still stood without handcuffs, and read from a short piece of paper.

“Sara Stahler, having been found guilty of capital crimes and having been sentenced by the court to receive punitive punishments before you are put to death, and having been prepped for such corporal punishment in the manner prescribed by the Department of Corrections, you shall now receive 40 lashes across your bare buttocks with a short a bullwhip, followed by an additional 40 strokes across your external female genitalia with a leather belt.”

Sara now wept and moaned aloud as she mumbled to the Warden.

Karen Schnell stared from the gallery transfixed, clearly pleased at seeing Sara Stahler, the person she perceived as her son's killer, weep with terror at her impending torture. In her vengeful excitement, Karen again squeezed her husband's hand and whispered “I want them to whip her good, top to bottom. Killing her isn't enough, Bill. I went through nine months of pregnancy, 11 hours of labor, and a decade of child rearing, and this bitch snuffed it out in a minute, she just through my baby's life out like it was trash. I can't wait to see them whip that bitch's pussy.”

Karen was so focused on the visual spectacle unfolding before her that she was unaware that her vagina was completely lubricated and dripping for the first time in over a year. She nearly salivated from her labia as Warden Bowden concluded her speech.

“As an additional punitive measure allowed by the Department of Corrections and Punishment, for your disobedience and for your causing a delay to these proceedings, I impose an additional 10 strokes of the lash and belt each, in addition to 5 minutes of non-lethal electrocution to your nipples and clitoris.”

Sara wept and dropped her head foreword.

The warden turned to the gallery and added “I know that for most of you here today, this will be your only chance to witness part of this execution of sentence, because many thousands more have applied for the right to witness this execution in its other phases. While you will not be here to witness it, I want to assure you that after receiving the first phase of her sentenced today, Mrs. Stahler, after three days of recuperation, will receive a second corporal punishment known as false childbirth, which involves the extreme physical punishment to her genitalia and reproductive organs. She will then be given another three days to recuperate, after which she will be put to death.”

“I know that many of you have suffered a terrible loss from the acts of these terrorists, but I want you to know that we here at the Federal Department of Punishment and Correction will do all we can to see that terrorists like the one before you today pay an extreme price for their crimes. Thank you for your attendance today, and thank you for your cooperation.”

As Warden Bowden walked from the spotlight of the theater floor, two male guards approached Sara and raised her wrists, clipping them to the chrome attachment rings at the bottoms of each of the two steel posts coming from the ceiling. This positioning raised Sara's arms so that they were spread somewhat crucifixion-like, outstretched to either side of her body at about the level of her head, but not stretched tight, with her elbows remaining slightly bent.

Both of the condemned mom's feet remained flat on the floor. The bullwhip would be applied first Sara's butt, and she would not be suspended for that punishment, but would stand. Only her wrists would be immobilized by the unshakable strong steel posts which were 4 ft. apart and 5 ft. off the floor. Because the posts came down from the ceiling and not up from the floor, all the space around Sara's body was free from obstruction, allowing the whipmaster to whip her unencumbered from any direction around her.

There was a collective gasp from the gallery as the whipmaster swaggered out onto the floor carrying with a single-tail six-foot-long bullwhip in his hand. His face and head was covered with a leather mask opened at the ears, eyes, nose and mouth. The mask fastened around his neck with a small belt buckle. He wore tight black leather pants which accentuated his male genitalia, and he was stripped to the waist. His arms and upper body, including his pecks and shoulders were well developed, tanned and oiled. Karen Schnell's spirits soared as she watched the whipmaster approach the helplessly restrained Sarah.

With the first crack of the whip across the trim, blond 33-year-old mom's bare bottom, she lifted herself up from the floor by her arms and completely covered her butt with the heels of her feet as her hair tossed about. Before she could put her feet down the whipmaster laid the second stroke across her nipples as she reflexively tried in vain to bring her arms together to protect her bare chest.

As the housewife screamed at the top of her lungs, the whipmaster laid stroke after stroke across her thighs and bare bottom as she tried every position available to her given the limits of her restraint. Sarah Stahler screamed and begged and is the bullwhip found its mark across her red-striped bottom.

Sarah pumped as if she were writing a bicycle and she desperately repeatedly lifted her feet from the floor with the fading strength of her out spread arms. The crowd watched the tortured female scream unintelligible sounds as some of in the gallery counted the strokes as the whip cracked over and over across her bare buttocks, hips and thighs.

After 30 strokes of the bullwhip the condemned housewife could no longer stand up, but hung limp from her wrists as the whipmaster walked forward to lay the final strokes on her bare breasts which were flattened by her outstretched arms. Sara now looked like a zebra, only with red rather than black stripes.

Once the 40 th bullwhip stroke had been applied to her formerly creamy-white flesh, two male guards approached and each lifted one of Sara's ankles high up off the floor, spreading her crotch wide for the witnesses to see her bare pussy. Each guard attached an ankle to the corresponding wrist attachment point. The 33-year-old housewife now hung by her wrists and ankles from two attachment points four feet apart, her crotch completely spread open, her feet wide apart over her head.

Sara continued to gasp for breath and sob uncontrollably from the bullwhip torture she had just endured. The whipmaster now held a leather belt, but it was not to be the next punishment. A female technician approached Sara with what looked like a small battery cable clamp and clipped it firmly to her clitoris. The technician then wrapped a grounding cord around Sara's right lower thigh and stepped away.

For a long silent minute the clit-wired Sara hung helpless before the first pulse of electric current hit her clitoris. She let out an unbelievably loud, long-lasting, blood-curling scream as Sara lifted her crotch high in the air while she contracted her arms and legs with the first of many strong pulses. Despite her recent catheterization, a small a mound of urine squirted high into the air to the amazement of the witnesses.

The clitoral electrocution went on at least 5 minutes, and with each sharp pulse of electric current Sarah wailed and thrashed her body about. The gallery witnesses, who could neither hear or see the electrical current, were fascinated with the naked and spread female's convulsions.

After the clit clip was removed the whipmaster approached and quickly laid the first of many strokes across Sarah smooth, spread labia. As the housewife and mother pleaded and begged, Karen and William Schnell looked on with a satisfaction that surprised even themselves. The whipmaster applied the last 20 strokes of the belt forcefully as he could directly between Sara's legs in rapid-fire succession has the housewife literally stop breathing in pain and agony.

Once the whipmaster had strapped her shaved pussy with 40 times with the belt, Sara's ankles were unhooked and once again her feet were placed back on the floor. The electrical torture technician approached again with electrical clips and firmly clamped them to each of Sara's nipples. No ground attachment was needed this time. Sara wailed with all her remaining humanly effort one final time as electrical current shot between her beautiful, firm, erect nipples and burned them raw.

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As the chauffeured bus provided by the Department of Corrections drove Karen and Bill Schnell and dozens of other witnesses back to their hotel 90 minutes away in Las Vegas, Karen could not remember the scene of Sara Stahler being taken down from her cross and wheeled out of the Punishment Theater on a stretcher. She could only think of the fact that the nightmare which her life had been for over one year was now resolving itself. She was determined to believe that despite her personal loss, justice had been applied, and would continue to be applied, and that now she could return to a somewhat normal life and once again become a normal wife and mother, the two things that she had always wanted to be, more than anything else, since she was a little girl.

Bill and Karen didn't speak on the bus ride back to the hotel, nor did they say a word as they entered the hotel room. As Bill closed the door, the hotel room instantly darkened. He looked up and saw his wife Karen closing the wide room curtains. Then, without a word, he watched as she walked over to the king-size bed and began to slowly and methodically strip it bare of its cover, top sheet, and pillows, leaving only the bare bottom sheet. She then walked in the bathroom, grabbed a bath towel and a warm, damp washcloth, picked up Bill's shaving kit, and returned to the bedroom with these items. Karen laid the bath towel over the edge of the bed, set the moist washcloth next to it, and set Bill's shaving kit on the night stand.

Karen, still standing, looked her husband directly in the eye and, without losing eye contact or saying a word, slowly lifted her arms straight up toward the ceiling. She stood in this position, silent, still staring at Bill, for over a minute.

Bill slowly approached his wife, and without saying a word removed the belt from the waist of her dress and dropped it to the floor. He then kissed Karen passionately on the lips for the first time in years. As her arms remained submissively overhead, Bill lifted his wife's dress slowly up over her head and off of her still up-stretched arms. Bill Schnell proceeded to strip his wife Karen naked for the first time in many months. After kissing her passionately he laid her bottom back across the bath towel and proceeded to slowly and carefully shave her pussy clean. Once the task was completed and Mrs. Schnell's labia and mons pubis was completely bare, neither one of them had yet uttered a single word since entering the hotel room.

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William Schnell's cock exploded for the third time in as many hours deep inside his moaning wife's vagina. In the darkened Las Vegas hotel room, Karen Schnell screamed and cried both an agony and ecstasy of passion and deep emotional release at her husband's strong, long, hard-pounding of her freshly shaved pussy. The thunderous, long-delayed evening of hard, sweaty sex had somehow healed a tiny part of Karen Schnell's shattered world as her ankles tightly gripped each side of her husband's neck. For the Schnell's, a time of nightmarish reality was coming to a close. For the first time in over a year they had finally seen someone whose day had been worse than their own.

Having sexually exhausted themselves unlike any time since their honeymoon, the Schnell's laid back on the bed as loads of cum oozed from Karen's pussy. As they laughed and joked at their son's murderer's predicament, the long-suffering couple fell asleep in one another's arms. Ever since the terrorist tunnel disaster incident had burned their young son alive, there would never again be a normal day for Karen and Bill Schnell, but somehow, seeing the perpetrator of their son's demise suffer a humiliating lashing, and now being fully convinced that the government would indeed torture their son's killer to death, the Schnell's had seemed to manifest the most normal day they had experienced in a long, long time.

Execution of the Terrorist Housewives Chapter Six by Jill Crokett
Copyright 2005. This story is fiction. All names are completely fictitious and any resemblance to a real person is coincidental

Updated Review of Main Characters :

William and Karen Schnell – casually dressed, tanned, and physically fit 40-year-old small-time Long Island home builder and his attractive, tan-lined but moderately overweight 36-year-old C-cup housewife. Their young son was a victim of terrorism and they are in Nevada to witness the execution of his killers.

Diane Howell – Condemned 42-year-old ringleader of the tunnel terrorists. A short-haired, short-statured, overweight, divorced mom with full, hanging, D-cup tits. Scheduled to be put to death in front of over 600 witnesses including nearly 200 government officials.

Tracy Howell – Diane's petite 16-year-old daughter. Convicted as an adult co-conspirator in the tunnel terrorism plot and sentenced to death.

Sara Stahler – Beautiful natural blond 33-year-old housewife, mother, and convicted terrorist. Small but firm tits with flawless skin and hair cut just off the shoulders. Sentenced to death by a female judge and scheduled to be executed in one week .

Anne Bowden – cold, calculating 38-year-old all-business she-bitch warden of the Federal Female Punishment Center at Elk Flat, Nevada. Takes her job very seriously. One of her favorite pastimes is traveling to the nearby Men's Punishment Center and observing the prepping, castration, and execution of teenage and young-adult condemned rapists.

Alan Wexler , MD – sadistic 52-year-old medical director of the Women's Punishment Center at Elk Flat. A certified OB-GYN for over 20 years, he is totally proficient at dominating, humiliating, and punishing females.

Chapter 6

The telephone ring cut through the early morning silence, startling Karen and Bill Schnell from their sex-induced slumber. Karen sat up naked on the edge of the large king bed and stared intently at Bill's facial expressions as he talked into the receiver in the darkened Las Vegas hotel room.

“Yes, yes we would,” she heard her husband say. “Yes, we'll definitely be available” he added with a hardened half-smile. She observed as Bill paused to listen, his head tight to the receiver, then added “No, no, it's no problem, mam, we had all ready planned to stay in Vegas for the next week.” He thanked the caller several times, then hung up the phone and turned to his wife with an expression of both shock and excitement.

“That was Ms. Finch, Warden Bowden's secretary in the prison administration office. Two witnesses coming in from New York had to cancel at the last-minute. Illness or something. The warden selected us from a contingency list to serve as alternate witnesses!”

Karen's sleepy eyes popped wide open and stared as her mouth silently gapped open with a look of surprise and elation.

“She said that Warden Bowden knew we were still in Nevada,” Bill continued, “and she just wanted to be sure that we still wanted to stay and serve as alternate witnesses.”

Bill's voice nearly shook with excitement. He'd never known his wife, or any other woman for that matter, to be so sexually turned on, so sexually excited, as Karen had been just ten hours earlier when they'd returned to their hotel room after witnessing the live bullwhipping of the beautiful 33-year-old housewife, Sara Stahler. The thought of soon repeating the experience had his heart pounding and his mind flashing fantasies in rapid fire succession.

“The secretary asked if we'd be available to stay in Nevada and witness all the remaining punishments, and even the executions, honey! And, and I said yes, O.K.?” Bill blurted between heavy breaths.

Now radiantly exposing a row of perfect white teeth, nude Karen beamed backed at her husband in ecstatic approval, her hard nipples pointing towards him in the dim light of the bedside clock-radio.

“She even said that, as extended guests and witnesses of the facility, we'll most likely be invited to have lunch with the warden, and,” he stuttered, “And sh, sh, she said we'll probably be offer a ‘behind closed doors' type of tour of the facility that only VIP's get!” Bill added with excitement.

The fantasy words “Sara Stahler, you are now to be put to death” echoed through a dark corner of Karen's brain as fresh, only-hours-old visions of the screaming mom receiving a bare-butt bullwhipping flashed across her mind.

Karen Schnell's pussy literally dripped as she stared eye-to-eye at her husband in the dark and reached down to gently grasp his erection. The news that she would now witness with her own eyes the sadistic and methodical execution of her son's killers had momentarily overwhelmed her. As she now cupped Bill's balls and dripping, rigid cock with both hands, Karen leaned forward on her tiptoes passionately kissed her husband on the lips for only the second time in as many years. Staring silently into Bill's eyes as she gently stroked his cock, naked Karen broke the silence of the darkened room and whispered “Do you know how they do it, Bill?“

“Do what, honey?” he whispered

“Execute them, Bill” Karen whispered back, “How will they execute our baby's killers?”

“Uh, this guy on the jobsite, uh” Bill stammered, breathing heavily as Karen slowly stroked his pre-cum-slick shaft as they stood face-to-face, “this sub-contractor, uh, he said they would strap them down, uh, you know, spread-eagle-like, and, you know, naked, and uh, shave them and, uh, cut, cut their pussy lips off and cut out their vaginas and uteruses, you know, alive.”

Bill stammered on as Karen continued to stroke his near-exploding cock. She knew what Bill knew, but just wanted to hear it from her husband, hear it from her hard, naked man. Her cunt salivated as she listened to Bill tell her what she already knew from reading an article in a women's magazine. She knew about the punishment dealt to killers and terrorists because it was a controversial

“That's right hun, and we're going to be there to see it” Karen whispered with exclamation as she stroked her man, “And I'm going to watch those bitches lose what I'll still have, a pussy, a womb, and a life. They took my little boy but I'll be damn if they'll destroy my happiness.”

It was no secret that sexual eviscerations often preceded the executions of the worst of the male offenders. Karen herself had read a magazine article about the execution of a child-rapist and murderer who was stripped, tied spread-eagle, had his genitals shaved, and then had his balls and penis completely cut off by a surgeon while he was fully conscious, before being gutted alive. But the idea of putting female murderers to death in this fashion was a newer concept, and it had raised some controversy in certain circles.

“That's right, baby” Karen continued as she stroked her husband to completion, “I'm going to watch those girls scream as they strap them down and cut off their pussy lips and little clits!“

With those words Bill's cock ejaculated. Karen continued to smile and hold eye contact with Bill as she stroked him as hot semen squirted up on her belly.

Karen smiled and wrapped her arms around her husband as they both stood naked in the dark, his heart pounding against her chest.

“Bill,” Karen whispered with a deep passion, “when we get back from the women's prison tonight, I want you to fuck me really hard. I want you to fuck me harder than I've ever been fucked before, Bill. I want you to fuck me till it hurts, OK hun? I really need to feel it deep. And I want you to do that to me every day until I'm pregnant.”

Bill was silent in his own thoughts, stunned at hearing his formerly un-sexual partner talk dirty to him.

Karen's pussy salivated with excitement as she raised her head slightly and looked straight into her husband's eyes. “Do you understand, honey?” she quizzed.

“I understand, baby” was Bill only reply. He stood there in her arms thinking how he had never realized the excitement his wife would get from witnessing the torture of her son's killers. Little did Bill know at that moment that Karen's past ten hours of physical expression were just the tip of her sexual iceberg, long hidden dormant beneath the ice. Nor did he know that what he and Karen would witness together at the Women's Federal Punishment Facility over the next week would unfold a sexuality in their marriage he could never have imagined.

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Diane Howell awakens to the sound of her cell door unlocking and then sliding open. She looks up from her pad-less metal cot and sees three guards, one female and two males, entering her darkened small, completely bare, steel prison cell.

Diane is totally naked, as she has been for days since first being stripped upon her arrival at the facility. Her whip marks are healing well, but a still very clearly visible across her buttocks and mons venus. Her nipples are still swollen, with small visible electrical burn marks.

The guards quickly order Diane into the hallway where she is instructed to stand there with her feet apart, and with her arms overhead in the surrender posture as several other male guards walk by escorting another naked, condemned female prisoner.

Standing with her arms overhead, Diane looks to see if it's her daughter Tracy who she has not seen since the two were whipped before an audience of witnesses several days earlier.

“Eyes forward” one of the male guards growls as the female guard searches Diane's pussy and butt cracks for contraband, specifically anything sharp she could use to slit her wrists with. In the few days at the facility Diane has learned to promptly obey. She instantly returns her gaze forward.

The overweight, condemned, 42-year-old convicted female terrorist is marched naked down the hall with her hands atop her head. As Diane's bare feet slap the vinyl floor her full, hanging, D-cup breasts bounce in stride. As the four travel through several hundred meters of hallways, clothed prisoners and guards alike look up and glance at Diane, silently acknowledging her condemned status, which is clearly recognizable by the fact that she is stripped naked and her pussy completely clean shaved. Everyone in the prison, guards inmates and witnesses alike, know that the market of a condemned woman is that she is always kept naked and her labia are kept completely clean-shaved. As Diane walks, she obediently keeps her eyes forward, the palms of her hands resting atop her short-cropped hair.

The guards stop Diane in front of an entranceway labeled “Gynecological Procedure Room”. As the power double doors slowly open, Diane sees that white-coat attired Dr. Wexler is waiting for her, latex gloves already on his hands. Next to Wexler is an obstetrical delivery table, its full-leg stirrups already high and wide in position, awaiting her spread thighs.

Wexler directs the guards to strap the 42-year-old condemned mom onto the table, and he tells them to spread her legs as wide and high into the stirrups as possible in the process. Diane is placed on her back with her butt hanging off one end of the short table. Her hands are cuffed straight over her head at the other end of the table. Her thighs and calves are then strapped tightly into the long, half-pipe shaped, molded plastic stirrups.

Wexler holds up a lightly lubricated, cold steel speculum and begins to slide it into Diane's femininity. He then spreads her pussy lips wide and clamps the speculum open as Diane feels cold air reach her cervix. Wexler then places a half-kilo metal weight on the speculum to give him a clear view of the 42-year-old's cervix and uterine neck. He notes to his attending nurse that there has been some shadow of short pubic hair growth since Diane were shaved a few days earlier. Wexler tells the nurse this is no problem as the condemned woman will be shaved again just before her false childbirth delivery, in about 18 hours.

Diana lifts her head to momentarily look down between her legs. Her eyes widen with fright as she sees Wexler pick up a long, ultra-wide-gauge needle and guide it into her spread-open vagina, aligning the needle's meatus with the tiny opening of her cervix. Wexler slowly pushes the huge needle deep into Diana's womb as the middle-aged woman gives out a faint scream and begins to cry. Even though her there are very she nerve endings in the cervix itself, Diane can feel the pressure of the huge needle making its way deep inside your body and the thought of it is terrifying.

“The material which I just injected into uterus will slowly expand over the next 18 hours to the size and weight of a newborn infant” Wexler tells Diane in graphic, monotone-voiced description of her impending procedure.

“It will swell using your own natural body fluids, pushing you lower abdomen and pelvis out to the size of a full nine-month pregnancy.”

As Diane stares at Wexler with a look of terror in her eyes he continues in a monotone voice.

“I will then induce you into labor by administering to you special hormone-based drugs which will produce extremely strong, powerful contractions of your uterus. Mrs. Howell, after a rather short but extremely painful labor, you'll give birth to something about the size of an American football or rugby ball.”

An Diane's eyes flood with tears, Wexler cruelly adds “and this time Diane, they'll be no c-section as there was when you delivered your daughter Tracy. No ma'am, this time this inanimate object is coming right through your vagina in a natural childbirth fashion. And there won't be any drugs for the pain. Oh, and of course it will all be done in front of the gallery of witnesses.”

Diane now sobbed aloud, her body shaking slightly against the restraints of her outstretched arms.

“Save your tears, Mrs. Howell, you need plenty of them in about 18 hours,” Wexler cruelly toyed with her, “your 42-year-old pussy is about to spread wide enough to deliver a football. It should be fun to watch. The last woman I did this too was the 49-year-old heavyset wife of the Mafia drug kingpin. She screamed so loud, for so long, we all had to use earplugs. As she was delivering the football she begged us to kill her. We waited a week till her pussy healed up, then we obliged her, just like we're going to do to you Diane.”

Still spread and strapped-down on the gynecological procedure table , Diane's head shook uncontrollably as she wept aloud, her large breasts sagging to each side of her torso, their nipples erect in the cool room.

Wexler continued his droll monologue “We're going to hook you up to an I.V. now Diane, so we can force fluids in you. It helps the device swell. You'll start getting very uncomfortable in about 30 minutes. It'll be painful as your belly swells and builds up to that of the woman nine months pregnant. Once you're at a full nine months and going to walk you around a bit and show you off. I know Warden Bowden will want to see you at full term in your false pregnancy. Despite your age, you should look pretty natural because of the large full breasts.”

As nurses hooked Diane up to the intravenous tubes, Wexler headed for the door, pulling his latex gloves off and throwing them on the floor for an orderly to pick up.

As he reached the doorway, Wexler turned and said coolly to Diane “I'm going to go get your daughter Tracy now”

As he turned and walked into the hallway Diane screamed at him “No, no, doctor, please, please don't do this to my little girl, she's only 16, please don't make her go through this. She's still a virgin, please, PLEASE.”

Diane's screaming was in vain as the electric power doors swung close.

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As the official chauffeur driven car sent by the prison rolled through miles of Nevada desert, Bill and Karen did not speak. When their limo pulled up to the first checkpoint a mile from the prison building complex, Karen caught sight of a small group of mostly women protesters holding up placards in the hot desert sun.

“These protesters must really be hard-core to stand out in this heat” Bill commented.

“Stupid bitches, I bet none of them has lost a child to terrorism.” Karen replied

The car stopped briefly before rolling through the checkpoint. As it passed through Karen read allowed the words on the large, simple sign, “Federal Women's Corporal Punishment and Capital Sentence Execution Facility, absolutely no unauthorized entry beyond this point, shoot-to-kill trespassing policy strictly enforced.”

“These folks don't fool around here” Karen added to the signs wording.

Bill ignored her. He was too busy reading the protester's placards, which he also read aloud in a low voice, “stop female executions now; end child torture; vaginal torture is a crime against humanity; stop the punishments now.”

About a mile later the chauffeured official prison car pulled up under a large awning which shaded it from the baking Nevada sun.

“Hi, I'm Janet Wang, head of witness relations here at the women's facility” said an attractive, slender, well-dressed middle-aged woman of Asian extraction. “If you'll come with me please. Warden Bowden is waiting to meet you for lunch in her private dining quarters. I hope prime rib in Bordeaux sauce will meet with your approval. That's what the warden scheduled for lunch today. I hope neither of you is a vegan, the warden is such a red meat lover.” Wang smiled broadly as she chatted. Bill had trouble keeping eye contact, distracted by Ms. Wang's short skirt which matched her sexy-but-businesslike fuchsia colored suit jacket.

“That'll be fine” Bill and Karen both replied at once as Wang escorted them out of the desert heat and into the clean, institutional-looking facility.

After long walk down a hallway and a short elevator ride, Wang introduced Bill and Karen Schnell to Anne Bowden, and the four made light conversation over a wonderfully prepared luncheon which was served exactly at 12:05 p.m. as the warden had requested. She was obsessive about timing and schedules, and even the kitchen staff knew it.

“Thank you for agreeing to be part of the witness team again, and thanks for extending your stay in Las Vegas” the female warden said as she sipped her after lunch coffee.

“Oh, it was no problem at all, we had planned to stay in Vegas an extra week anyway, and we're glad to be of service to our country.” Karen replied with a faint smile as she made brief eye contact with Bill.

“As my guests” the warden said “I'm going to give you each a special pass which will be good for your entire week here. You must be accompanied by one of my staff members at all times, but the pass will allow you to witness anything which takes place here at the facility. You can watch our fine kitchen staff bake cakes, you can go and watch any of the many forms of corporal punishments which take place here, you'll even be able to witness a capital sentence as it is carried out here if you wish. There are usually one or two a day, but not on weekends. You can even go into the medical facility and observe a postmortem examination of an executed criminal if you wish.”

Karen and Bill did not respond, they're somewhat shocked brains still processing the warden's words.

“My desire is not shock you, but to make you feel welcomed here” Bowden added.

Bill felt another erection growing in his pants as he listened to Anne speak. He was already fantasizing about wandering through the facility.

“There is something that takes place here now that most people in America still know nothing about yet” the warden continued. “It has to do with the farming out of executions from other countries. It's a fast-growing cash producer for the American penal system, and it's actually not only helping pay for our prison system, but for the first time since forced labor by criminals, it is actually beginning to turn us into a for-profit business enterprise.”

“How does it work?” Karen inquired with great curiosity.

“Now, with new low-cost supersonic air travel, it is cheaper for other countries to outsource both corporal and capital punishment of foreign nationals to our facility here in Nevada. This way, foreign governments don't incur the cost of building their own facilities in each country around the world. A small set of international judges is always on hand to hand down sentences right here at the facility. The sentence can be carried out right here, at no cost to the outsourcing country.”

“No cost?” Bill chimed in.

“Yes, that's exactly what I said, no cost, Mr. Schnell” the warden answered. “That's because we can make a profit here by selling pay-per-view cable rights of the trials, punishments, and even executions that occur here.”

“I thought that was illegal” Karen quipped.

“Yes, it is, in the United States that is, but not in all countries. It's perfectly legal for the general public to watch the administration of punishments, even executions, in say, Saudi Arabia, Brunei, the Netherlands, Myanmar, or Cuba. Is actually quite a business in those countries now. Those countries even have a booming tourism niche of tourists from other countries, even America, who want to watch the proceedings live on TV.”

“And by letting us make a profit at the wholesale production level here at the facility, those countries don't have to operate punishment and execution facilities for their serious criminals. It saves them a ton of money. They simply send them here to have their sentence carried out. It's free for them, we get to make a profit selling the lucrative raw cable feed, and they pump cash into their own economies by bringing in voyeur-tourists to watch the proceedings in their countries. It is a win-win all-around.”

“So, what you are saying is,” Bill quizzed, “that people from other countries are put to death here?”

”That's right Bill” answered Bowden “at this facility, the worst female criminals in the world are whipped and even executed, and you'll get to see it, if you would like.”

“Why, in just about an hour I expect a flight to arrive from Russia with several women on board who have already been found guilty of serious capital crimes there. They have been found guilty, but not sentenced yet.”

When they arrive each has the right to be accompanied by up to two family members, probably parents if they convicted is young, and possibly her lawyer. Each country we work with has its own sentencing judge in residence here. Our own on-site Russian Judge is reviewing their cases right now and will sentence them when they arrive. The sentence will be carried out before live TV cameras almost immediately upon their arrival. If the convict is not put to death here, they'll be sent home to be released in a few days, once they recover from their corporal punishment at our medical facility.”

“One other thing of interest” Bowden continued, “What happens here is a legitimately licensed venue and venture of the foreign country which condones it, so it is not under the laws of the United States. In Saudi Arabia, for example, children can be put to death as young as age 11. Their minimum age for judicial corporal punishment, such as caning or whipping, is only six.”

“So you might be quite shocked at what you see occurring here. Just remember, it is condoned by the foreign government which we have contracted with, not the United States government. We here at the women's punishment facility are simply making a profit doing what the foreign country would ultimately do anyway. It's an economy of volume. An executioner can be paid to work five days a year or 200 days a year, the cost of employment remains the same.”

“We do require that young kids sent here for corporal punishment be accompanied by at least one parent or legal guardian. In some countries, judges even sentence a parent to be punished along with the kid. Of course, we have to send the dads over to the male facility for punishment, because we're not licensed to punish males over age 12 at this facility.”

“If you're interested” the warden said as she turned to make eye contact with Karen, “I can probably get you a pass to go over to the male facility to witness an execution there.”

“No, no, you've been more than generous warden, I'm quite happy to stay here” Karen said in acknowledging the warden's thoughtfulness.

Execution of the Terrorist Housewives Chapter Seven by Jill Crokett Copyright 2005. This story is fiction. All names are completely fictitious and any resemblance to that of a real person is totally coincidental.

The court room looked like any other, except it was smaller and had no rows of benches in the gallery, only standing room. A stern looking, late middle-aged male judge wore black robes as he sat in an elevated position behind the dark mahogany wood judicial bench. After lunch the warden had brought Karen and Bill Schnell to this mini-courtroom, located within the wall's of the Women's Punishment Center, to witness the sentencing of a foreign contract prisoner.

The New York couple sat with the warden in comfortable upholstered chairs off to one side of the courtroom as two female Russian television camera operators pulled in scenes from different angles of the room. The warden and each of the Schnell's wore an earpiece which provided them with an English translation of the proceedings.

The judge called the court into session in Russian and the doors at the other end of the courtroom immediately swung open wide. Five uniformed Russian guards escorted a frightened looking, dark-haired young Chechen woman into the courtroom. She appeared to be no more than 16 or 17 years old. After walking her down the short aisle the guards stood her before the judge's bench, unlocked her handcuffs, and stepped back several paces, leaving the young woman to face the judge alone, her arms nervously at her side.

Karen and Bill listened eagerly awaited the English translation as the judge began to speak in Russian as he read a legal document aloud. The judge's words seemed stern and soon tears rolled freely down the young woman's cheeks. It was several moments before the brief, summarized English translation of his words flowed into Karen's earpiece.

Karen and Bill listened intently, each with a single finger against their earpiece as they heard the translator say “Valerina Karnazloff, you have been found guilty of assisting to commit capital murder as the getaway car driver in a bank robbery which resulted in the death of two bank customers in Moscow. Ms. Karnazloff, I now order you to raise your hands above your head for sentencing.”

The Chechen teenager reluctantly complied with the judge's order, slowly lifting her hands and arms high above her head as a sign of her submission to the judge's will. Karen thought she heard the young woman begin to softly weep aloud.

As the TV cameras rolled the live audio and video feed via satellite to horny, masturbating pay-per-viewers in the far corners of the world, Karen heard the English translation through her earpiece. “Valerina Karnazloff, it is hereby the order of this court that you are now to be stripped naked, your skin shaved fully from the neck down, and then, without delay, alternately whipped, strapped, and paddled for not less than 30 minutes, after which you will be hanged by the neck using a thin steel cable until you are dead. I order that you be turned over immediately to American criminal punishment authorities so that your sentence can be swiftly carried out.”

The young woman, still with her hands above her head, now wept aloud as tears of humiliation and fear rolled freely down her cheeks. The moment the judge finished reading the sentence the doors at the back of the small courtroom flung open and five American prison guards in off-white jumpsuit-type uniforms and matching ball-caps entered the room, quickly replacing the Russians ones who immediately turned around goose-stepped out of the room.

Bill and Karen watched intently as the white uniformed American guards surrounded the Chechen girl in a rather tight circle. A somewhat petite, dark-haired female guard faced the condemned girl eye-to-eye, then quickly crouched to her knees and immediately began to unfasten the condemned's pants and unzip them. The judge, warden, and the Schnell's all looked on as guards stripped the slender, 5-foot-7 foreign girl completely naked.

The young woman had by this point apparently learned not to disobey judges or guards because, despite her tears, she stood with her hands above her head as a black male guard unbuttoned her blouse while the petite white female guard pulled she her slacks down to her ankles. Within a minute the Chechen girl was completely naked, a thick dark bush of hair now clearly visible between her legs, cleverly hiding her young pussy.

As Bill watched the spectacle unfold he was worried that a wet spot would form on his pants over where he felt his now bulging cock growing. Karen too felt a strange stimulation at seeing another female stripped at the hands of strangers. She felt as though she were voyeuristically witnessing a rape from a hidden viewpoint.

Bill knew for sure his hard-on was going to explode the very moment Warden Bowden removed her earpiece and leaned over toward he and Karen and whispered “They'll take her to another room now to get her ready for execution. They're going to shave everything from the neck down, give her an enema, and give her a short haircut, which is required here for executions. She should be ready in about an hour, but in the meantime I'll have my assistant take you down the hall to see one of our juvenile offender punishment rooms. I think you'll find in interesting.”

“Well, I've got to go back to work now, but I'll try to meet with you both again in a about two hours, after the execution. Maybe we can have dinner before you head back to your hotel this evening. In the meantime, if there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, here is my private mobile number” the warden said as she handed Karen her card.

Anne Bowden picked up her tiny mobile telephone and called one of her young male assistants, instructing him to escort Mr. and Mrs. Schnell to their next venue and stay with them for the rest of the afternoon.

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“Good afternoon, I'm Jason” said the carrot-haired administrative intern as he extended his hand. The fresh-faced graduate student, who looked younger than his 23 years, immediately caught Mrs. Schnell's attention. The portly housewife promptly stood up and responded to the young man's handshake with a broad smile as she thought to herself “damn, he's cute!”

Bill, who had only moments before witnessed the naked young Chechen girl being carried crying from the courtroom, awkwardly tried to remain seated while shaking the intern's hand, all in a vain attempt to hide the bulging erection in his pants.

After Jason introduced himself he went on to explained to the Schnell's that he had graduated with a bachelor's degree in Penile Science the year before, and he was very much enjoying this his first year of a two-year internship in prison administration. “Warden Anne Bowden is a well known authority within the federal penile system, and it's quite an honor for me to intern under her” Jason told Bill and Karen with sincere pride.

These past eight months he had relished his internship under the supervision of the authoritarian female warden. Jason explained to the Schnell's that his internship would ultimately lead to him receiving a master's degree in Judicial Punishment Administration. He explained that in order to receive the advanced degree, all candidates were required to intern one year each at both the male and female facilities. Jason added that he especially enjoyed giving tours of the facility to VIP guests such as the Schnell's.

“I'm proud of what we do here” boasted the youthful redhead. “We're making society more secure for everyone” he beamed. Karen Schnell beamed back, hanging on the young man's every word as Jason escorted her and Bill down the hallway.

Jason stopped halfway down the hall and asked the couple to step inside a rather large viewing booth which had a large one-way mirror covering one wall.

Once all three were inside the booth, Jason closed the door and pressed a button. The booth darkened immediately, revealing what looked like an almost empty, oversized living room on the other side of the glass. The room was sparely furnished with a single sofa and a small, leather-upholstered piece of furniture Karen could not identify.

“This room is where children under age thirteen receive spankings” Jason told them as the Schnell's voyeurly gazed into the adjoining room. “Studies show that when children receive firm corporal correction, administered with love, their chances of being involved in criminal activity as adults is greatly reduced. What takes place here in this room helps build a safer future for us all” he prognosticated.

“But I must admit, it is one of the more controversial venues here at the facility. It's also the only place in this female facility where a male can legally be punished. That's because the government thought it would be too harsh to send boys under age thirteen over to the male facility for spanking. They agreed that it would be better to send the young boys here, where they could be accompanied by their moms. It could be risky having young boys and their moms walking through the male facility.”

“The juvenile offender program is all about instilling a strong respect for authority in the mind of at-risk young offenders, especially the boys. As I said, the administration of fear and humiliation is the proven key to success with the youthful criminal. It's proven to be very effective in preventing the young offender from growing up to be an adult offender.”

Jason's pedantic correctional theory lecture ended the moment a door in the adjoining room opened. Karen watched with keen curiosity as in walked two heavy-set, late-middle-aged, grandmotherly-looking women dressed in homely blue-gray calf-length housedresses. Both women wore their peppered gray hair pulled back tight in a bun. One carried an old brown leather belt in her right hand. The other woman held the hand of a frightened 10-year-old boy as she led him into the room.

Walking in behind the trio were three other females; a uniformed guard, the clearly anxious mother of the boy, and a prison secretary carrying a clipboard. Neither the boy nor any of the five females with him was aware of the three witnesses behind the glass.

The matronly woman holding the strap instructed the mother to sit on the sofa facing the center of the room. The female guard seated herself next to the mother. The matronly woman then turned and ordered the boy to stand on a red dot on the floor in the middle of the room and face the sofa. Once he had complied the old woman then ordered the boy to place his hands atop his head.

As he reluctantly but obediently lifted his arms, the other older woman slowly bent down to kneel behind the ten-year-old as he faced the two women on the sofa. The secretary stood behind the sofa taking notes of everything that transpired.

Without comment the old woman kneeling behind the boy reached around and slid her fingers under his waistband, buttoned the boy's pants, unzipped them fully, and pulled them down to his ankles. As she did, the other old woman knelt down and untied the boy's shoes. She pulled his shoes, socks, and trousers off his feet as woman behind him now pulled his shirt off over his upraised arms.

Once the boy was stripped down to his underwear the older woman in the front stood up and stepped away. The boy had let his arms drop to his side at this point. The matronly woman still kneeling behind him methodically slid her two index fingers under the waistband at each side of his briefs. She then paused briefly and ordered the boy to put both of arms all the way up in the air again, this time pointing his fingers at the ceiling. The ten-year-old obediently stood in the surrender posture as the crouching matron slowly pulled his underwear down to his ankles while the other four adult women looked on.

With his arms still above his head the boy was ordered to step out of the underpants and stand with his legs apart. As he complied the other old woman knelt back down in front of the youngster and began to examine his genitals while the old woman to the rear spread his cheeks and carefully examined his anus.

The old woman keeling in front of the boy reached forward and cupped his balls with one hand as she gently lifted his penis with the other. As she carefully examined the boys privates she spoke aloud to the secretary “note that the male offender is circumcised and the genitalia show no signs of swelling, whip marks, or other signs of prior corporal punishment.“

Once the boy had been thoroughly humiliated before a room full of adult women, the two stern matrons quickly grabbed his arms and bent him over a child-size leather-covered whipping horse, strapping his wrists to one side of the contraption and his legs and ankles to the other. In this manner the boy was bent over the horse with his bare rear high in the air. A waist strap was added to reduce wiggle, and high-thigh straps secured the young white bottom with his cheeks slightly apart.

Once the boy was firmly strapped down into position in front of the five women, the late middle aged matron wasted no time in raising the belt against his bare buttock, applying her full force. The boy screamed, wailed, and cried as he fought in vain against the tight restraints. After the 14 th stroke of the belt across his bare butt the 10-year-old boy released his bladder. As Karen and the other women watched urine stream from his little penis, the matron never let up on the strokes.

“Mama please” the boy pleaded and screamed to his now tearful mother as the older woman's rapid-fire belt strokes now passed the 25 count. Jason looked down at his watch and said “we must be going or we will miss the preliminaries to the Russian woman's execution.”

With that the trio exited the booth. As Karen stepped into the hallway she glanced back for one last look at the hysterically crying boy's severely welted bottom.

Despite that the witness gallery was full, the gymnasium-style execution chamber was eerily dark and silent. The only lighting was provided by two overhead spotlights which illuminated a single area of gray concrete floor several meters in front of the stadium-like seats. Jason slowly escorted Bill and Karen into the darkened theater and silently motioned for them to take a seat next to him in the tightly packed bleachers.

Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Karen noticed that the bleachers were filled with several hundred other witnesses waiting in silence. She was unaware that many of the other witnesses were middle-aged couples just like her and Bill. Most of the other couples, however, had paid thirty-five thousand euros for a ‘package tour' which included the privilege of not only seeing live what was about to unfold here at the female facility, but also included witnessing the live castration and execution of a convicted rapist or child killer at the male facility. It was a booming business for the American correctional industry. Crime really did pay, and for the first time in a century the balance of trade was swinging the other way, thanks to this newfound cash cow.

Karen could only make out the dark outlines of the backs of the many heads in front of her. In the near pitch-darkness she reached down and gently rested her left hand on Bill's right thigh, allowing her fingertips to gently rest on his still semi-firm erection.

The gallery of witnesses collectively tensed up as the large double doors swing open at the opposite end of the execution chamber. Several throats cleared spontaneously, echoing through the death chamber.

Karen, Bill, and Jason stared intently as seven uniformed male prison guards carried the condemned young Chechen girl into the death chamber. At first glance Bill thought she was being carried into the chamber on a stretcher. She was actually secured spread-eagled to two separate steel spreader bars, one securing her arms apart and the other holding her legs equally apart. The guards carried the girl into the chamber by holding the spreader bars, using them as handles. They positioned the condemned teenager under the spotlight, and as they did Bill's heart raced as he got a clear glimpse be cleaned the girl's spread legs, now revealing her recently clean shaved labia and mons venus. The terrified teen had been fitted with a ball gag with a large hole in it. This permitted her to admit garbled screams without spitting on, or biting, the executioners.

As Karen gazed down on the stripped, spread-eagled young woman in the spotlight, her fingertips lightly palpated her husband's swollen penis as she felt it turn rigid. The thought that the unfolding scene in front of her excited her husband made her own pussy drip. “Anticipation,” Karen thought “is the best part of sex.” Clearly, the best was yet to come.

In the preceding hour the condemned teenager from Russia had been strapped down spread eagle on a special X-shaped preparation table, after which her dark, bushy pussy hair was completely shaved off, she was administered several deep cleansing enemas, and her bladder emptied by urethral catheter. This was all done in the presence of a dozen prison employees. After her underarms, legs, and pubic area had been shaved, the girl was hand washed and towel dried by female prep technicians who, as a final touch, cut off her long black hair indiscriminately at about 2 cm length, giving her a somewhat boyish appearance.

Once the cleansing and shaving process was complete, Dr. Wexler's nurse administered two injections into the girl's buttocks. One shot was designed to prevent her from losing consciousness under torture; the other prevented nausea.

As the guards positioned the condemned under the illuminating spotlights, two steel cables slowly lowered out of the darkness from the ceiling above. The guards promptly attached the small eye-loops at the ends of the cables to attachment points on the ankle spreader bar. The girl was then hoisted upside down, facing the witnesses with her arms still attached to the other spreader bar. The guards then attached small weights to the lower spreader bar to keep her from swaying too much. An unseen television camera beamed the teenager's nude image worldwide on the most popular pay-per-view channel in the world, TEC: “The Execution Channel”.

Bill and Jason both heard Karen let out a faint gasp the moment a large muscular black male, the whipmaster, walked under the lights carrying a leather belt in his right hand. The bare-chested prison employee was adorned in black leather pants and a black leather face mask. Karen's heart raced with anticipation as he stood motionless for several moments in front of the condemned girl.

Gazing up at the frightening-looking, belt-in-hand African, the condemned girl's eyes welled with tears and her head began to shake slightly as the gag muffled her sobbing. She hung upside down, her outstretched arms almost touching the floor. Her white spread and shaved sweaty body glistening under hot stage lights in contrast with the dark whipmaster. Her brightly illuminated feminine form directly faced the first row of witnesses who sat just 5 meters away.

Karen's fingertips felt Bill's manhood grow even firmer as he witnessed a display the likes of which he had never seen. He stared intently as the girl's wide, terror-filled eyes darted around the room as her nipples raised and lowered with each heaving breath.

Dressed in a blue business suit, a Russian government representative approached the illuminated area and addressed the condemned female prisoner in her native tongue. An English translation soon echoed through the chamber.

"Following the completion of the punitive punishment procedures, you shall be hanged until you are unconscious, after which your internal organs will be immediately harvested for transplantation. May God have mercy on your soul.”

“So that's the rub” Bill thought to himself, “Don't waste anything.” Indeed, a steady supply of young, fresh transplant organs did in fact reap a fortune on the international market. Little did Bill know that the private jets of the world's elite transplant surgeons waited on the tarmac nearby. Not missing a beat to make a dollar, the prison system even charged the small aircraft “parking fees” while they waited in line for their selected purchases. Many of the receptive patients were already being prepped for transplant surgery before the convicted “donors” were dead.

With a nod from the Russian, the whipmaster began to earn his pay as the first crisp crack of his belt snapped across the teenager's butt, causing the girl to reflexively tighten up, and raising hair on the necks of first-time witnesses such as the Schnell's.

“He's just warming up” whispered Jason as the third stroke elicited an extremely distressful crying sound through the hole in the ball gag. The crying sound eventually gave way to a whistling scream as the girl hyperventilated through the gag's hole while saliva drooled out of the gag-hole and onto her short dark hair .

The fine hairs on Karen's arms raised like a cat's as she heard belt stroke after belt stroke crack through the air, blistering the tight, white bottom and turning it bright red. The condemned girl attempted in vain to scream and plead through the gag. After about forty stokes across the buttocks the whipmaster moved, to the shutter of the many women in the audience, to the girl's smooth feminine lips. Through the gag's air hole witnesses heard the unintelligible language of horror as the belt snapped against the young pussy.

As Valerina bucked violently, screaming through her ball gag, as a small amount of urine momentarily sprayed up from her urethra. Her young face contorted and her eyes rolled up into her head as her tender pussy lips were relentlessly strapped hard by the muscular African. Firm, deliberate strokes of the strap had blistered the feminine lips raw by the time the whipmaster moved to her stretched-flat breasts.

The youthful tits were repeatedly strapped so hard Karen thought the nipples surely were about to be belt-slapped right off the girl's chest. There was no let up in her unimaginable howling.

When then whipmaster walked off into the darkness, Bill, his swollen dick dripping with pre-cum, thought the whipmaster was surely taking a short break. To his surprise he returned a moment later with a short bullwhip in hand. He wasted no time in quickly proceeding to leave no stone unturned as he worked the screaming girl from top to bottom with the whip.

The girl shook and twisted against the spreader bars with all the strength she had remaining as the African proceeded to whip her already strap-reddened buttocks, leaving striped welts across her full bare bottom. Once he had laid twenty whip strokes across her butt, he moved the lash to between the girl's legs and whipped her young clitoris and inner lips with repeated full strokes.

As the whipmaster stepped back into the darkness, guards unhooked the young woman from the spreader bars and carried her to beneath a looped steel cable which had slowly lowered from the darkened ceiling into the lighted area.

The guards held the girl upright while her wrists were handcuffed behind her and the gag was removed from her mouth. As it was removed she moaned aloud in a continuous, rolling sob. One would have thought that death would come as a relief, but the girl struggled as they slipped the shiny steel noose over her head. The gallery of witnesses remained stone silent.

Her actual hanging seemed anticlimactic, given the prolonged tortuous punitive punishment of the belt and whip. Aside from her face, hands, and feet, not one area was left unmarked by the belt or whip. As the cable rose slowly it lifted her feet just inches off the concrete floor and stopped. Her handcuffed wrists struggled behind her as another small stream of urine trickled from her crack and ran down her leg.

The room remained totally silent. In less than two minutes Dr. Wexler entered the death chamber accompanied by three assistants pushing a gurney. Wexler stood next to the hanging female and placed a stethoscope next to her left nipple and listened. She was unconscious by still had a heartbeat. With a nod from Wexler the guards lowered the noose and helped the assistants place her face up on the gurney.

“We can go watch the harvesting now if you'd like” Jason whispered as the girl was wheeled from the stage.

“Harvesting?” Bill responded.

“Yes, they're going to remove her vital organs over in the autopsy area. Do you think you and Karen are up to it?”

Bill and Karen glanced at one another in moment of silence, then Karen responded with an approving nod, adding “Yes, we'd like to see it, uh, for just a moment, but, but just a glance OK? I don't know if I'm.”

“I understand” Jason said cutting her off.

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The institutional looking sign leading into the large, white-tiled room simply said Autopsy / Organ Harvest. Not knowing what to expect, both Bill and Karen's hearts raced with anxiety as Jason led them, now donned in green surgical gowns complete with booties, gloves, and shower caps, into the large room. At first glance it reminded Bill of an operating room theater he had seem on television. Karen, who, unlike Bill, had spent some time in a hospital delivery room, was first struck by the cool temperature of the room.

The automatic double doors lead into an anteroom. It wasn't until Karen turned and looked to her left that the full impact of the room's activity struck her. There, just five meters in front of her, three totally nude, freshly executed female cadavers hung by their ankles.

The three women hung from steel meat hooks in their ankles which were positioned so their legs were spread apart. Neck rope burns indicated that the trio had been hanged or garroted. Each of the three women were of different ages and body types. All three had been totally shaved before their execution, except for their head hair, which was cropped short. Their lifeless arms dangled toward a large stainless steel drain in the floor below them.

Bill could feel his face flush with embarrassment at the strange realization that his erection was once again growing at the sight of the three nude cadavers. The scene was surreal. Across the room in the distance behind the three females he could see a fourth nude female body as it was being hoisted up by its ankles in the frigid room. It was the Russian girl.

As the couple stared at the scene before them in disbelief, Dr. Wexler approached them. Jason politely introduced Dr. Wexler to the Schnell's and inquired if there was any objection to them witnessing an organ harvest.

“Not at all” said Wexler. “If you feel nauseous, there's a washroom over there.” His gesture implied more a concern for surgical sterility than empathy for the ill.

“And don't hesitate to leave if you get uncomfortable” Wexler added. “I understand. All I ask is that you keep your surgical scrub outfits on as long as you are in this room. We want to keep the risk of bacterial contamination of our transplant organs to a minimum.”

Of the three nude female cadavers hanging by their ankles in a row together, two appeared to be women in their early thirties, both of medium build. One of those two was quite short, about five feet tall, with dark hair. The other was about 5'9” tall with light flax-colored hair. They both appeared to have been rather attractive women. One, the shorter of the two, had a cesarean scar. The blond had undergone breast augmentation as she had obvious implants.

The third female was older and rather matronly looking. She was probably in her mid-to-late forties. Her short cropped hair was heavily peppered with gray. She was overweight, and her large, triple-D tits now hung inverted near her shoulders. None of the three showed any signs of punitive punishment, such as whip marks, as the Russian girl did. None had been dead for more than 20 minutes.

Wexler turned his back to the trio of visitors and began to go to work. Jason whispered to Bill and Karen that the female reproductive organs were usually harvested first. Wexler stepped up to the short, dark-haired cadaver. Talking descriptively as he worked, Wexler used an electric laser scalpel to quickly excise around the young woman's vulva, careful not to detach it from the vagina. He then opened the cadaver from the pubic mound down to the navel as assistants to either side held the lower abdomen open. With quick surgical skill he detached the ovaries and uterus and pulled them out from the abdomen still attached to the shaved vulva lips.

After handing the petite woman's entire reproductive set to an assistant who immediately carried from the room, Wexler quickly moved to the taller blond and began to repeat the strange harvest, proficiently removing the internal vagina and external pussy in one piece.

Jason whispered to Bill and Karen, inquiring if they were all right. They both nodded affirmatively. Jason then quietly explained that the older female would not have her uterus removed, only her vagina and its external components. “It can't be used in a fertility transplant” he said quietly, “but someone will surely want it for a sex change operation. Someone, somewhere, will want her large breasts too. I have no idea what for, but they certainly are a marketable novelty item when there're that big.”

Bill and Karen stared with amazement as Wexler quickly moved the laser with precision to cut all the way around the fat woman's vaginal lips. Within moments he placed her vagina into a stainless steel pan held up by a female assistant and then turned and bent over to grab the large woman's breasts. He gripped one tit firmly by the nipple and pulled it out from the body as the laser cut the breast away from the torso.

By the time Bill and Karen left the organ harvest room, all four of the females there, including the Chechen girl, had had their front organ cavity panels completely cut off and carefully emptied. Within minutes the waiting jet aircraft were taking off to the four corners of the globe with their precious cargo of transplant organs. All that was left were four now sexless, eviscerated cadavers.

Execution of the Terrorist Housewives by Jill Crokett

Chapter Nine, False pregnancy

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The 16-year-old let out a loud cry as Dr. Wexler forced the wide-gauged needle deep into the firm muscle tissue of her young, virgin uterus. Laying strapped into the stirrups, her heels turned bottom-up and pointed toward opposing corners of the room, Diane Howell's teenage daughter was still covered with belt marks from the severe whipping she had received several days earlier. Tracy continued to weep as Wexler methodically explained what was going to happen to her over the next 18 hours.

“By this time tomorrow Tracy, you'll be a woman. You'll have fully experienced the procedure which separates girls from women, brides from mothers. Once the false pregnancy ‘football' inside you has swelled to its full size, the nurses are going to strap you down to a delivery room table and, as several hundred witnesses watch, you'll give birth to something as wide as both of my fists”

The doctor gestured by holding up his fists clenched together in a ball. Tracy continued to cry softly as she stared at Wexler between her spread legs.

“And being a virgin, Tracy, I can tell you that it's going to be an extremely uncomfortable experience. I've never performed the false pregnancy procedure on a virgin before, but I imagine it'll be quite painful.”

“To help with the delivery, I'm going to insist that my nurses make sure you're strapped down with your legs spread as high and as wide as possible, and I'll probably have to do an episiotomy to get that damn thing out of you.”

“An, an epee what?” Tracy asked through her tears.

Wexler never answered the sobbing girl, but simply turned and walked from the room through the automatic doors.

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Sara Stahler was still suffering the effects of the severe whipping she had received less than 48 hours earlier when Dr. Wexler guided the huge syringe needle between her spread labia and slowly inserted it through the tiny hole of her cervix and deep into her muscular womb. Sara cried softly but would not look Wexler in the eye as he performed a procedure. He did not speak to Sara, as he had done when performing the procedure on Diane and her daughter Tracy. Wexler had no interest and taunting the beautiful, short-haired blonde, as he had had his fill of her earlier in the week when he had repeatedly raped her tight virgin asshole. For Sara Stahler the procedure was just yet another deep stroke of the continuous a rape she felt her life had been since being sentenced days earlier.

Over the next 18 hours Diane, Tracy and Sara experienced unbelievable agony, each in her private prison cell, as their uteruses rapidly swelled, expanding their pelvises near the bursting point. Diane was slowly pacing in her cell in frank labor pain when the guards came to get her. They were shocked at what they saw; a mature, totally naked woman in her early 40's with a hugely swollen abdomen, her belly button now popping slightly outward.

The guards handcuffed her and led Diane down the long corridor to her awaiting delivery. They would first make a stop at a gynecological prep room where she would again be shaved and given a series of enemas. Escorting her down the hall drew even more attention then before, as prison employees and other prisoners gawked at the uniformed guards escorting the handcuffed, mature, nine-month pregnant shaved female to her next fate.

Diane Howell was the first of the three women led into the procedure theater. Unlike before, the lights in the entire theater, including the witness gallery, were all up this time, allowing Diane to get a good view of the two hundred or so witnesses who are about to witness the delivery of her false pregnancy.

The witnesses watched in amazement as a group of uniformed guards slowly escorted this mature but very pregnant, completely nude woman into the theater. After she entered her arms were uncuffed as she stood facing the gallery. Diane could see the three unusual looking obstetrical tables queued up in a row directly in front of the witnesses. She could tell they weren't traditional OB tables, but had unusual leg restraint stirrups at the head end of them. With one glance her instantly knew the extreme position into which she was about to be placed. She surmised that one of the other two tables would be occupied by her own daughter, whom she had not seen since they both had been whipped in the same punishment theater several days earlier.

Before Diane was strapped down spread open wide to the delivery table, the guards momentarily kept her standing in front of the witnesses. The entire gallery stared at her ready-to-pop pregnant belly and the shaved feminine crack just below it. From the gallery Bill Schnell gazed at the helpless condemned female. His wife Karen wondered if the sight turned her husband on. In the now lighted witness gallery she did not dare touch his crotch as she had done the day before.

The 42-year-old condemned mother hung her head in total humiliation before the witnesses as she stood facing them, her pregnant belly full, as guards adjusted the multiple restraint straps on the modified OB table. Diane's freshly shaved pubic mound glistened as she stood in front of the crowd of men and women whom she had never seen before. As they stared back, the female witnesses gazed at her cesarean scar from the delivery of her daughter 16 years earlier. The men stared at her slick, puffy pussy lips which were are about to deliver a foreign object. Up to this point in her life, because she had previously delivered by cesarean section, nothing had passed between Diane's labia larger than an erect penis.

Before Diane had arrived in the theater, Wexler had instructed the gallery as to the proceedings they were about to witness. He briefly but carefully explained that Diane, Tracy and Sara would each expel from their uterus, through their vagina, something the size of an American football. After he spoke, each of the witnesses had then been offered a pair of earplugs. Most had accepted.

Wexler had explained that the three women would be brought in one at a time, strapped down, and then all three would, at the same time, be rapidly induced into labor with the injection of a high dose of uterine-contracting hormone. For the comfort of the witnesses, he said he would try to speed up the delivery time to not more than 30 to 40 minutes. Wexler had explained that 400 times the normal dose of the drug would be used, producing a rapid onset of full labor the moment the condemned woman was injected. He had explained that the condemned females would each experience extreme pain unlike and they had felt before. Anti-nausea drugs and drugs to counteract unconsciousness would be used “to keep them in the present moment” throughout the ordeal, Wexler sadistically quipped.

Four guards grabbed Diane Howell tightly by each extremity and quickly laid her on her back with her wide buttock cheeks extending off the end of the short table. The guards proceeded to strap her down with her arms out crucifixion-like onto rigid IV boards which extended perpendicular from each side of the OB table.

Each arm was strapped firmly to one of the boards projecting out to either side of her. A single strapped was tightened across her chest up under her large pendulous breasts. Two other straps were positioned to tightly hold down each shoulder. With her upper torso firmly restrained, nurses then inserted IV needles into each of Diane's arms and hooked thin clear plastic tubes to each needle. These tubes would carry the drugs which would rapidly induced labor.

Once Diane's shoulders and arms were securely strapped down crucifixion like, the guards holding her legs at the ankles now drew her knees all the way up to her chest and spread them open, widely exposing her inner labial folds to the audience. They then strapped her knees securely to a set of heavy metal brackets which for protruded from the sides of the table and either side of her chest.

This position allowed her knees to be flexed at a ninety degree angle, with the soles of her feet facing upwards toward the ceiling. Another black steel T-shaped bracket was then swung into position over her head and her ankles were securely cuffed to it. Diane was now completely immobile. It had taken a good10 minutes to get her totally secured in the special modified delivery position.

The males in the crowd had watched with fascination as several OB nurses directed the guards in a mini-lesson of medical/surgical positioning with clinical precision. Diane's fully pregnant abdomen now formed a huge swollen mound at the center of the table, framed by her up-spread thighs. Her shaved pussy hung off one end of the table, spread so wide that some witnesses were afforded a clear shot view of her cervix.

Although Diane could not see them, she did hear the automatic doors open as her 16-year-old daughter Tracy was led completely naked into the room. Tracy and also just been shaved again, and, like her mother and Sara, had been administered an enema. Also like the other two females, she had not been allowed to eat or drink in the past 8 hours.

As Tracy was led into the room she caught a glimpse of her mom strapped down onto the strange table and began to cry. Once Diane heard her she also began to cry but said nothing.

The young, now nine-months pregnant teenager, not being as nearly as heavy as her mom, was strapped down in a slightly different position. Tracy's knees were strapped slightly closer to her torso, with her knees actually touching her underarms. Tracy's more flexible legs, thighs, and pelvis allowed her ankles to be fastened to a smaller, narrower metal bracket positioned above her head.

Once Diane and Tracy were securely strapped down to the modified obstetrical procedure tables, Sara Stahler was escorted in and stood before the gallery of witnesses. As she was escorted in, several male witnesses cleared their throats. It was very clear to everyone that this third very pregnant woman was strikingly beautiful, despite the fact that her body was still covered with whip marks. Sara was no doubt even more beautiful pregnant. Wexler had not mentioned that she was the only one of the three condemned females who had actually given birth vaginally.

Sara, being athletic and flexible, was also firmly strapped down in the same position as Tracy, with her knees tucked up under her underarms and her feet just over her head, her ankles slightly closer together than her knees. The knees and ankles were secured to matt-black-colored brackets fashioned from box-shaped tubular steel. In this position both Tracy and Sara's labial lips seemed to pout upward, whereas Diane's appeared more wide-open. Either way, the site of three pregnant condemned females with their shaved pussies spread wide before them surely aroused every straight male in the witness gallery.

Karen Schnell felt just a touch jealous, as she knew her husband would find the pregnant Sara, and possibly the other killers of her son, extremely attractive. She knew that Bill must surely be excited at the site of three women submissively positioned before him in such a vulnerable manner. But it was more insecurity than jealousy, for Karen certainly could not be jealous of anyone about to go through what Sara and the others were about to endure.

As the three condemned, belly-swollen women, moaned and wiggled against their extremely uncomfortable restraints, Warden Bowden stepped onto the floor of the punishment theater and began to speak. Karen Schnell could not hear her; her mind drifted elsewhere.

As Karen stared at the three females prepped and spread open before the gallery of witnesses, she thought of herself laying on a delivery table, her legs strapped into the high, wide obstetrical stirrups. Her mind had drifted to the delivery of her own lost son 10 years earlier. Karen remembered being shaved bare for her doctor, she remembered her legs being spread so wide as to expose her pussy to nearly every angle of the room. She remember the two handsome young medical students who stood and watched the birth, as she had delivered her son in a teaching hospital. She remembered the pain. She remembered the powerful drugs she had been given to abate the pain; a benefit she hoped Diane, Tracy, and Sara would not receive.

Warden Bowden entered the theatre and publicly read the three condemned women a review of their punitive sentence. She then turned and briefly addressed the witnesses, thanking them for their service. The moment Bowden finished speaking, Dr. Wexler gave a signal to one of his nurses, and the powerful hormone-based drug immediately began to pump into the clear plastic IV tubes.

Within three minutes Diane Howell, her daughter Tracy, and Sara Stahler were each moaning deeply and sweating heavily. As heavy labor rapidly commenced Dr. Wexler began walking from one spread pelvis to another, inspecting for changes in cervix dilation. Within minutes he announced that each female's cervix was dilated 4 cm.

Within 10 minutes all three women were screaming, crying and pleading for mercy at the top of their lungs. The rapid contractions were now just seconds apart as young Tracy began begging Dr. Wexler to stop the process. Sara, who was no better off, dripped with sweat and cried aloud like a little girl as she struggled in vain against the ankle straps which painfully held her feet up next to her head.

At 15 minutes an inanimate object began to crown between the edges of Diane's now stretched-thin pussy lips. Wexler signaled for his nurse to increase the hormone injection level on the other two females. As she did, Sara and Tracy each began to scream uncontrollably from the pain in an uncoordinated litany of horror as extreme uterine contractions ripped through their pelvises.

When Dr. Wexler's nurse handed him the two disarticulated, slightly spoon-shaped blades of the obstetrical forceps, few male members of the audience had any idea what the obstetrician/gynecologist was going to do with them. By contrast, many women in the gallery knew all too well that the OB/GYN was about to slide the flattened, oversized salad tongs deep into Diane Howell's vagina, working the obstetrical instrument deep into her intimate feminine folds.

Diane let out a deep cry of helplessness as Wexler wiggled and forced, one at a time, each of the two curved blades of the forceps deep into her vagina and interlocked them together around the football-shaped rubbery object. Placing one of his heels firmly against the base of the delivery table, Wexler leaned back away from Diane's pussy and pulled hard as she wailed at the top of her lungs in agony. Fine hairs stood up on the arms of every witness as the middle aged mom begged with unintelligible statements, her face distorting in horror.

As if fighting against the woman's deafening shrieking, on the third hard tug Wexler yanked the huge dense spongy object out from between Diane Howell's legs as blood dribbled onto the concrete floor.

Nurses bandaged Diane's pussy just before the guards unhooked her legs and lifted her exhausted, limp body onto an awaiting gurney. As she was wheeled from the theater Wexler turned his attentions to the youngest of the three females.

The audience now sat on a edge as Wexler regloved and had his nurse spread a small amount of clear lubricant over his fingers and fist. The condemned teen screamed for mercy and thrashed against the restraints as Wexler began to work for fingers into the virginal vagina.

“Nnnoooo” Tracey screamed, “Pleeez, no doc-turrrr,” her voice trailing off to a soft weep as she looked down between her legs and saw Wexler began to work his entire fist deep into her vagina. Despite the lubrication and his forceful pressure, Dr. Wexler was only able to work his fist halfway into the girl's shaved pussy. “There's no way of getting around the episiotomy” he thought.

Young Tracey was now in the full throws of heavy labor. Each extremely forceful contraction racked her slender body with even more intensity. As Karen Schnell watched Tracy's predicament, she sympathetically sweated along with the girl as Dr. Wexler readied his surgical instruments to perform an episiotomy .

Holding a pair of shiny, downward-pointing surgical scissors in his hand, Dr. Wexler stepped toward Tracy's shaved virgin pussy. For this episiotomy there would be no injection of numbing Xylocaine or other anesthetic measure. Wexler would simply insert the scissors into the lower opening of the Tracy's vagina and with one firm motion slice completely through the perineal tissue between the girl's vagina and anus, all in an attempt to facilitate the football's expulsion.

The shriek was as high pitched as any Bill Schnell had ever heard a human being make. Having made the cut just below the lower apex of Tracy's pussy lips, Dr. Wexler began to work the forceps blades, one at a time, deep into the tight inner walls of her virgin orifice.

Once both of the slightly spoon-shaped blades were completely inside the crying girl's vagina, Bill thought how unusual it looked to see two chrome handles sticking out of her clean-shaved pussy with her thighs pulled far back and spread apart.

Wexler then locked the two forceps blades together at their attachment point, gripping them around the body of the spongy football. Tracy moaned and cried even louder than her mother had as Wexler worked and tugged with the strange obstetrical tool in an attempt to bring the huge fake fetus down through the girl's vagina.

“No God, please God, please dear God, I'll do anything, anything you ask, I'll suck you all, I'll do anything you want, you can all rape me, you can fuck my ass, please oh God please no don't do this to me, I'll lick you ass doctor, PLEEESE” Tracy pleaded and screamed as Wexler, aided by a nurse, yanked the football from the tight vagina which had previously held nothing larger than a tampon.

Dr. Wexler quickly sewed up Tracy's episiotomy sans anesthesia before her pussy was bandaged and she was unstrapped and wheeled from the room on a gurney. The pain of Dr. Wexler's crescent-moon-shaped sewing needle was pale compared to what she had just been through.

As Tracy was being unstrapped, the sadistic Wexler moved on to Sara, who was now moaning with the deep contractions of late stage labor. Wexler bent over to look up her cunt-hole, then quickly stood up straight and put two fingers deep into her vagina to check her level of cervical dilation.

After withdrawing his fingers from Sara's pussy, Dr. Wexler turned and addressed the gallery, briefly explaining to them that since Sara had already given birth vaginally once before, he would not use forceps, but would simply increase the labor inducing drug and let things occur naturally.

As sympathetic as this may sound, to do this to Sara would actually in fact make her delivery more unbearable than Tracy's and Diana's had been. Wexler turned and nodded to a nurse, who immediately increased the flow from the IV so that more of the hormone based drug flowed into her veins.

Almost immediately Sara began to gnash her teeth and scream as ultra-strong, violent uterine contractions rippled through her torso as she laid spread out and strapped down before the gallery. She seemed to almost speak in tongues as she began cursing Wexler and the gallery of witnesses. Sara screamed and pleaded to God to save her as, before their eyes, the witnesses watched the football-like object appear in full view between her legs.

Sara's vulva were now stretched tightly thin and spread in a wide, near-perfect circle measuring nearly 12 centimeters across. Watching the sweat covered Sara, most of the men in the audience wonder just how much size a human pussy was actually able to take, seeing as how this one was stretched out as if it were being fucked by two fists at the same time.

When the football dropped onto the floor, the gallery of witnesses may have thought that Sara Stahler's ordeal was over for the day, but that notion was immediately put to rest has a huge, African, stripped-to-the-waist, black-leather- pants-wearing whipmaster walked onto the execution chamber floor.

Without any prompting from Dr. Wexler, and without any further announcements to the witnesses, the nurses stretched a tight, heavy gauge surgical glove over the black whipmaster's right fist and forearm and began lubricating it.

The whipmaster walked up to Sara and quickly plunged his entire fist as deep as he could into her now gaping vagina and without delay began to rapidly fist fuck the sweat-covered, screaming mom. As the witnesses watched in disbelief the African rammed his huge fist deep into the attractive woman for a good 10 minutes, completely removing it only to forcefully slam it back in on numerous occasions. At this point Sara was speechless, her gaping mouth the only sign of her in vain attempt and verbal expression.

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Bill and Karen Schnell held hands and spoke softly during the 90 minute limo ride back to their hotel in Las Vegas. It had been a long, emotionally exhausting week so far, but also a sexually energizing one full of intensely erotic moments.

They talked quietly in the back of the darkened, chauffeured car, casually chatting about what they had witnessed over the past few days; the reactions of the condemned, the reactions of the other witnesses, even the efficiency of the facility and its staff.

As they rode on through the moonlit desert, Karen slid over close to her husband and began whispering in his ear as she gently rubbed his cock through his trousers.

“What did you think of the fisting today, Bill” she would quiz, followed by “What did you think when you first saw those three executed females hanging by their ankles in the organ harvest room yesterday, Bill? They were hanging there all spread and shaved for you honey, weren't they?” she smiled and questioned as she continued to rub her husband's cock.

Before each whisper Karen would glance up into the rearview mirror to make sure that the limo driver had his eyes on the road.

While she continued to stroke Bill during the long commute, her conversation shifted to her own experience with childbirth. Gently rubbing the head of his swollen cock with one finger, Karen leaned up to Bill's ear and whispered that she wanted to have another baby, she wanted to be strapped down just like the women they had seen today. Her sexy talk made Bill's cock even harder.

As soon as the door of their darkened hotel room closed, Bill, who was about to burst from the hour of cock teasing he had just endured, grabbed his wife and kissed her passionately as he simultaneously pulled up her skirt and groped her crotch through her old fashioned white cotton panties. Karen pushed him away and then quickly began to strip in front of him in the dim light.

Without a word Bill threw Karen onto her back and spread her legs, roughly pulling her knees up to the sides of her chest before sucking wildly on her clit as if he were a thirsty man eating a cool, ripe watermelon. She soon reached an intense, screaming orgasm.

“Fuck me hard Bill” Karen begged as Bill pulled her knees up tight and placed the bottom of her feet against his chest before slamming his dripping, thick dick deep into her pussy. The muscular contractor pounded with his pelvis as hard as he possibly could as he listened to his wife scream not unlike the women in labor.

As her head thrashed from side to side in the torment of her husband's hard fucking, Karen was happy, more happy than she had been in years. In just a few days she'd watch her son's killers die.

Execution Of the Terrorist Housewives Chapter Ten

By Jill Crokett

The headboard rattled rhythmically in the darkened Las Vegas hotel room as Bill Schnell pounded his pelvis against Karen’s spread thighs, her feet over her head, the soles of which were pressed flat against the headboard as her husband’s passion grinded away. Bill, sweating against the hum of the air conditioner, wondered if he ever could be sexually satiated after witnessing the triple faux childbirths and their accompanying choral trio of screaming females.

While fucking his wife as hard as he could, Bill found it hard to believe that they had just witnessed a screaming mother-daughter team essentially being fist-fucked while restrained to some sort of strange rape table. Once he had climaxed inside his wife’s tight, dripping reproduction vesicle, the two lay there in silence with nothing else to do but sleep and screw until the phone rang, telling them it was time for Diane, Tracy, and Sara to be put to death.

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Inside the male employees handicapped toilet stall at the Women’s Federal Punishment Center Jason stood with his eyes closed and stroked the head his pre-cum-lubed cock ever so lightly. It only took a few seconds before the university intern squirted the fruits of his overactive prostate gland across the white split-front toilet seat, relieving himself of the pressure that had been building as he witnessed the three false childbirths. Jason had never imagined that he could become so excited, so stimulated, by the screaming of beautiful, sexually tortured women.

While interning earlier at the Men’s Facility, Jason, on several occasions, had grown excited while witnessing males being punitively whipped and circumcised, or, in more extreme cases, castrated before being hanged naked. The most notable was the time he witnessed the quadruple torture and execution of a child kidnap-and-murder ring. The condemned men had all met in prison and had carefully planned for their macabre, sadistic entertainment when they got out, and Jason felt no guilt in enjoying their predicament. He had enjoyed their killings so much that he even began to question his heterosexuality, but now that he was experiencing similar rituals at the Female Facility, he had no doubt as to his sexual preference.

Since coming to the female punishment center, Jason, who was now masturbating to the point of climax at least three times a day, felt constantly horny and in need of sexual release. His outwardly mild-mannered boyish poise and demeanor was a front for the inner breast which raved ceaselessly in his loins. He often wondered if his boss, Warden Bowden, had taken notice as to how many trips he was making to the men’s room each day.

Jason tried to inwardly rationalized that his level of sexual stimulation was not unusual for a young male interning in such a provocative setting. After all, he was surrounded daily by female prisoners who were often stripped naked and who were frequently being severely physically punished. He balanced his sexual guilt with the further rationalization that here, in the mid-21st-century, prisons, as places of incarceration, no longer existed, and the only deterrent to contemporary crime were these punitive physical punishments. And if the odd college intern was turned on by them, so be it. After all, the system worked.

“Are you ready to call it an evening, Jason?” Anne Bowden chirped from behind her sprawling executive desk with an expansive picture window of the desert mountains in the twilight behind her, as the young intern placed a small stack of reports in front of her.

“No ma’am, Warden, I, I thought I’d go pu, put in some extra time, taking notes for, for my master’s thesis down in the autopsy-organ-harvest room.”

“What was it your thesis was on, Jason?” Anne Bowden inquired with a slight smirk, already knowing the answer. She just loved to hear the cute young college student say it.

“The Macroeconomic Effects of Efficient Condemned Inmate Organ Recycling” Jason blurted back with awkward enthusiasm.

The fact was, Jason’s only other choice for an evening activity was to drive an hour through the desert to sit in his bleak, rented-by-the-week furnished studio apartment, which, in reality, was a nearly-condemned Las Vegas Boulevard motel room infrequently cleaned by the owner’s cousin from Madras. Jason much preferred to remain in the relative air-conditioned comfort of the Federal Women’s Punishment Center, walk around after hours as if he owned the place, free to masturbate in a handicapped stall of the employee restroom of his choice.

Because he had been busy escorting the Schnell’s off following the false delivery punishments, Jason was aware that he would miss two other executions scheduled late that afternoon. He didn’t know if the two condemned females were scheduled to be harvested, or, because of known disease or age, were simply scheduled for a quick autopsy and cremation.

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The cool blast of chilled air hit Jason’s face the moment the nearly silent automatic doors opened into the large, high-ceilinged, white tiled suite of clinical looking rooms know simply as “Autopsy and Organ Harvest.” Suited up in the mandatory long aqua green scrub coat with the prerequisite booties, gloves, mask, and head covering, Jason strutted anonymously into the area of death with the confidence of someone quite familiar with the place. The fact was, the staff in the Harvest theatre had all heard about the young man’s master’s thesis and was not at all uncomfortable with him making his way about as an observer. Truth be told, the biggest lesson Jason was learning from his thesis was just how intense his fascination with death really was.

The morgue was empty and silent. Jason assured himself that Dr. Wexler probably took a break in the early evening, then came back to do an autopsy later with the night shift staff. After all, he too, like Jason, really had no other life other than the facility.

“The workers must be on their dinner break” Jason whispered to himself as he walked through the large, well lit room, navigating past the hanging cables and stainless steel autopsy tables. There was no door separating the morgue from the organ harvest and autopsy area, only a narrowing rectangular archway. Jason passed into the next chamber and gazed at the long wall of cadaver coolers with their refrigerated hatch-like doors. They reminded him of the sides of a giant stainless steel ice cream truck. Behind these small doors lay the bodies of executed women who are not going to have their organs harvested, which generally meant executed prisoners who were too old for organ harvest (40 was usually the cut-off point, no pun intended) or were physically unacceptable due to disease.

Organ harvest was always done fresh. Any cadavers behind these refrigerated doors were awaiting autopsy or cremation.

Jason walked up to the first morgue cooler door and pulled open the latch. He grabbed the end of the large slab-like roll-out tray and slowly pulled it out the its full length of over six feet. A human form lay draped head to ankle with a long white sheet, with only the tagged toes exposed. Jason’s gaze lingered up and down the sheet-covered corpse as he wondered what lie beneath the morgue drape.

Was she young or old? What color was her hair? Had she been punitively punished or had she been given a quick, merciful death? Jason loved to guess.

The graduate student slowly drew the sheet down to the corpse’s waist, and then on to the knees, gazing up and down at a nude, later-middle-aged female cadaver. He bent closer to study the toe tag for a moment, which revealed the name, age, and date of execution.

The woman was fifty-three. She was the same age as his mother, and had been dead less than twelve hours. Jason straightened up and studied the full length of the cadaver’s torso again, this time more carefully. She was modestly overweight. Her dark, slightly silver streaked hair had been roughly chopped off indiscriminately at a length of about one inch. Jason knew that a short haircut was required of most condemned prisoners, male or female.

Jason studied the cadaver’s large breasts, which in the supine position hung to each side of her chest. The naked tits revealed the faint tan lines of a bikini top. It surprised him for her age. “Had she been involved in trafficking drugs as a runner to the Caribbean?” he wondered.

Jason also noticed the clear, distinct marks of a leather belt strap across both breasts, transecting at the nipples. “The condemned had suffered at least one type of punitive punishment before she was put to death” the intern thought to himself. “But what was the cause of death?” he wondered. He could see no rope burns or garrote markings around the woman’s neck. Jason guessed that she had been suffocated with plastic wrap circled tightly over the face and head. The method rarely left marks.

Jason’s gaze roamed downward. He noticed that the woman’s wrists and ankles were bruised in a band-shaped fashion, indicating that in her final hour she was restrained tightly at her wrists and ankles and had probably fought fiercely against her restraints. She had suffered a slow, anxious demise.

Jason’s gaze moved on to the older woman’s sex. There too, the tan lines of a modest bikini bottom, one appropriate for a matron of her age and size, were found. None to Jason’s surprise, the executed woman’s most feminine area had been very recently shaved completely bald, probably in the hours before death. Jason had never seen it otherwise, either with male or female condemned. A pubic shaving was part of the penal code, a final punishing humiliation as well as a preparation for possible genital and reproductive organ harvest. But for this woman Jason knew that organ harvest was never intended. He assumed that her organs were not wanted; they rarely were after age 40. Transplant surgeons wanted to work with younger parts which had longativity. “No,” he thought, “this one will be autopsied within the next few hours and sent to the incinerator.”

It was clear to Jason that the condemned woman’s most intimate area had received the belt right along with her breasts. The smooth-shaven lips of the mature vulva were swollen from a strapping she had apparently undergone in the moments before she was put to death. He stared at the thin, bald pussy slit before him and wondered, had it had a full life? How many thousands of times had those smooth pussy lips been wrapped around a huge, pounding cock? Had a cock ever been forced between them; had she ever been raped? Was she a lesbian; had another woman ever licked them? How many times had a gynecologist spread them wide and clamped them open with a speculum? Had a live baby ever pasted through them; how many times? Did those children morn her loss; or had she been alone in the world?

“What are you doing?” she asked affirmatively.

Jason nearly wet his pants as he jumped around to see Dr. Wexler’s assistant standing across the room behind him.

Clearing a lump in his throat, Jason stammered to say “Oh, I’m sorry, there was no one here, and, and I wanted to do a little research regarding my harvesting thesis.”

Before the nurse could speak again Dr. Wexler walked up behind her and quipped “Well, you came in at a good time young man. We just executed a 37-year-old, and she’s being taken down from the gallows at this very moment. A little age on her, but she’s in great shape and meets all the harvest criteria.”

“Thank you Dr. Wexler” Jason replied nervously, worried that the nurse was staring at his totally sick, perverted, necro-boner.

“As a matter of fact there are three private transplant jets on the tarmac right now waiting for this shipment” Wexler continued. “You’re welcome to stick around and watch. It’ll be just me and the three transplant assistants. The other two should be bringing her in from the death chamber any minute now.”

Jason’s heart pounded as two surgically gowned female assistants wheeled the sheet covered gurney into the harvest room just moments later. He again embarrassingly feared that one of the mask-faced harvesting technicians would detect his semi-erection, which lingered from shear anticipation.

“You know Jason, this woman’s heart is still beating faintly, even though she’s unconscious from the hanging. Keeping the blood circulating up to the moment of harvest makes for better transplant organs” Wexler said.

“In the old days, back in the late Twentieth Century, they would take an accident victim who was being kept alive on a ventilator, pronounce them ‘brain dead’, and then harvest their organs while they were still on the ventilator. That’s how they got fresh, living transplant tissue” Wexler rambled on, clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice.

“Now that we have the new criminal code, and there’s no more warehousing of criminals, we just hang the condemned slightly until they’re unconscious, then take what we need. It works the same way as it did sixty years ago, back in the 1990’s. And hey, their going to be killed anyway, why not let the act serve humanity” the physician said, clearly trying to justify his actions in order to salve some inner guilt.

The two surgical technicians positioned the gurney over a wide, shallow, stainless-steel floor sink as the third tech pushed a button which began to slowly lower two steel beams from the ceiling. The two steel post-like beams, which were about five feet apart from one another, lowered directly down on either side of the gurney, stopping when the bottom of each was about five feet off the floor. There was a ringed attachment point at the bottom on each steel beam.

Jason stood facing the gurney end-on as his heart palpitated with the anticipation of what he was about to see. Directly in front of him, one of the female harvest technicians pulled the sheet off of the gurney, revealing the nude body of an attractive early middle-aged woman. She appeared well nourished but physically fit, with a slightly pear-shaped bottom accentuated by firm but prominent hips and thighs. She appeared unconscious, but had the skin tone and color of someone alive.

The naked woman was lying face up on the gurney with her legs together. Her arms were still strapped tightly together behind her back at the wrists and elbows, the arm restraint position used in all hangings. This position caused her nipples to point upward and her breasts to flatten out, making her boobs appeared smaller than their C-cup, and more youthful than their 37 years.

The beautiful woman’s long, dark brown hair had been cropped short just before she was hanged. Other than her now ragged-looking boyish haircut, her youthfully mature body was entirely hairless, Jason observed, revealing to him the thin, dark, straight line of a labial slit.

Two technicians, standing at each side of the gurney, firmly grasped the hanged woman’s ankles and spread her legs right in front of Jason. As they did, Dr. Wexler and the other assistant began to firmly strap suspension harnesses on each of the woman’s ankles. For the first time, Jason got a glimpse of the intimate folds of the hanged woman’s sex, which, shaved smooth, was bare as the day she was born. She had one of the most beautiful pussies he had ever seen. As the tech’s held the woman’s legs spread wide, Jason again worried that they would notice his swelling crotch log.

The ankle harnesses had hooks on them which the assistants clipped to the metal rings on the bottoms of the hydraulic ceiling posts. To do this, they further spread the woman’s thighs wide in front of Jason. With the push of a button the steel posts slowly retracted to the ceiling, raising the condemned’s V-positioned legs upward as her buttocks were lifted up off the gurney.

Jason stepped back to watch as the hanged mom was lifted feet-first toward the ceiling, her ankles held wide apart by the two inverted steel beams which now retracted into the ceiling. As her exposed torso was hoisted up by her spread legs, Jason got a clear look the mound and full lips of the woman’s shaved sex. With her arms strapped tight behind her, the unconscious woman’s chest was pushed out, proudly revealing her thick brown nipples and the hangman’s rope mark around her neck.

As the woman hung by her spread ankles, now fully lifted off of the gurney, Jason was able to gazed upon the beauty of her mature, full frontal nudity. Her eyelids were halfway opened and she seemed to stare unconsciously forward. Just minutes earlier she was seeing the world through those eyes, now she hung awaiting her dissection.

“She really looks good for thirty-seven,” the Jason thought as his dick swelled.

Once executed female prisoner was lifted off the gurney, it was rolled away and she hung free by her spread ankles, her arms still strapped behind her back. The technicians then lowered the beams to strategically position her pussy in front of Dr. Wexler to facilitate the harvest of her reproductive organs.

Jason, seeing no whip marks on the woman’s body, asked Wexler if there had been no punitive punishment before death.

“She was actually sentence be labially whipped before her death sentence was carried out, but yesterday we got a special order for a female sex organ transplant, and her DNA profiles matched the request. So Bowden decided to skip the whippings” Dr.Wexler said.

“We normally don’t choose them this old for sex organ transplants, but this one was exceptional. As far as we know she was never married and my examination revealed she had never given birth. She is essentially a 37-year-old virgin who is in top physical shape” Wexler added.

“I spoke with her just about an hour ago when we did the execution prep. I told her that after she was hanged, I was going to completely remove her vulva and vagina, along with her uterus and ovaries, and that they would be transplanted into the 64 year old wife of a billionaire who wants to have a baby again.”

The freshly executed woman’s relaxed gaze and expressionless, near-lifeless eyes did not reveal her terrifying final hour. She now hung inverted, her arms bound behind her, her legs spread five feet apart. From what Wexler said, she had gone to the gallows knowing that her pussy would live on to be pounded by a billionaire. If the transplant recipient got pregnant, the executed woman, in a sense, would live on. Dr. Wexler wanted her to know that.

“Are there any punishments scheduled for this evening?” Jason asked Dr. Wexler as he went to work using his laser knife to excise the woman’s spread open vulva.

“Go grab some dinner and come back to the punishment theatre seven in about an hour” Wexler said as he tugged on the hanged woman’s clitoris with a hemostat as his laser cut away some perianal tissue. “I’m scheduled to do two punitive circumcisions on a pair of sisters. You’re welcome to watch.” As Wexler said this, his three female assistants never batted an eye, but continued to work methodically as her cut out the woman’s pussy.

“I’ll see you then” Jason said as he exited the automatic doors of the Harvest Room and began to pull off his surgical scrubs. The thought of two sisters being circumcised before his eyes caused Jason to walk past the employee cafeteria and head straight for the men’s handicapped toilet stall.

While Dr. Wexler and his three surgical nurses finished completely excising the still connected vulva lips, vagina, uterus, and ovaries from the freshly executed 37-year-old woman who now hung lifelessly by her spread ankles in the Organ Harvest Room, Jason grabbed a quick post-masturbatory snack in the employee cafeteria so he would have the energy to move on to the punishment facility’s next sadistic venue. As Warden Anne Bowden’s shy young summer intern finished off a tomato and cucumber sandwich, Wexler and his trio of assistants completed their task of removing the hanged woman’s pussy and attached sex organs and hustling them to an awaiting business jet in an ice chest.

Once the woman’s pussy was completely cut out, Wexler moved on to quickly remove her breasts, then proceeded to use the laser to slice her from between her spread legs all the way down to the base of her neck, completely opening her up her abdominal and chest cavity so that her vital internal organs could also be harvested. As he did this, the unconscious woman’s faint heartbeat expired.

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Surrounded by guards, convicted sisters Janice and Andrea Antroidi stood dressed in prison garb with their arms obediently raised above their heads in fearful submission as they tearfully faced the Judge Lydia Moriarty, awaiting her sentence. The sadistic death sentence given to their father just a few months earlier by this same judge had been unbelievably cruel, and the two siblings anxiously anticipated a similar fate as they stood before the stern looking 60-year-old jurist.

A month earlier, husky voiced, jet black haired 27-year-old Janice and her cute-but-not-beautiful 29-year-old bottle blond sister Andrea had been convicted of operating the largest methamphetamine lab ever discovered. The clandestine operation, located near the Mexican border on a conveniently unpoliced stretch of an Arizona Indian reservation, took in literally tons of cash, much of it in small bills. Investigators estimated that the operation grossed over three million American dollars a day, 365 days a year. The bust had been world news, and the subsequent trial and conviction of the attractive sister-operators had been followed by all the tabloid news shows.

The Antroidi sisters had been schooled in the illicit drug manufacture and distribution business by their mobster father, Vito Antroidi, who had initially set up and bankrolled the massive operation before turning it over to his offspring. Even though Vito wasn’t involved in the lab’s day-to-day business, he got a cut of the profits, and he continuously advised his two daughters on operation of the business model, and on security matters.

Just three weeks before Janice and Andrea Antroidi were arrested, father Vito himself was busted for operating the largest hydroponically grown cocoa leaf cultivating and processing operation ever discovered. Under interrogation Antroidi gave up his own daughters’ illicit operation in a desperate attempt to save himself. Even after he was convicted and sentenced to death, Vito voluntarily testified against his daughters in a desperate and selfish attempt to get his own unbelievably cruel death sentence modified to something less tortuous.

But it was not to be. Vito Antroidi had come up against the toughest judge in the country, and, even after delivering critical testimony against his own two daughters, he was sadistically tortured and brutally put to death as punishment for operating a drug manufacture and distribution ring. His sentence, handed down by the same judge that his daughters now faced, had been carried out just a week, and his daughters were well-informed of the details.

New ultra-Draconian anti-drug manufacturing laws passed in 2042 gave judges unlimited punitive discretion when it came to illicit drug manufacturers, and while Superior Court Judge Lydia Moriarty’s harsh sentences had recently come under fire in the press, those editorial accusations had not yet persuaded the judge to show mercy.

Judge Moriarty had sentenced Vito Antroidi to repeated anal penetration with a large inanimate object, followed by circumcision without anesthesia, followed by a 100 stroke bare buttocks belt strapping topped off by another 50 strokes across the scrotum. And that was just to warm him up. She then sentenced the drug lord to be affixed spread-eagle to an X-shaped cross, his legs spread wide, so that a large machinist’s vice could be used to slowly crush, one at a time, his already tortured testicles and penis. The she-bitch judge then ordered that Vito be disembowel while still alive. The sentence was carried out in front of a selected group of witnesses who had all lost children are family members to drug addiction or drug overdose.

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Judge Moriarty spoke firmly and distinctly as the condemned as sisters’ raised hands and all arms nervously trembled.

“Janice Antroidi and Andrea Antroidi, having each been found guilty of a Class One Capital Offense, it is the order of this court that you both be taken immediately to the Federal Women’s Punishment Facility at Elk Flat, Nevada, where you will each undergo as of yet undetermined punitive punishments for a period of 72 hours, after which time you will be put to death and your vital organs immediately harvested.”

Andrea’s eyes rapidly swelled with tears and Janice began to weep aloud as Judge Lydia Moriarty continued.

“I further order the Federal Women’s Punishment Facility warden, Anne Bowden, to personally select and implement the methods of punishment to be implemented for this sentence. I also order Warden Bowden to select and implement the method of final execution for each of you.”

“Let me be very clear, this sentencing order grants Warden Bowden the full authority to select the methods used in carrying out your sentence, as well as full authority to implement your sentence. My only restriction to Warden Bowden is that you both must be dead within eighty hours of leaving this courtroom. May God have mercy on your souls.”

The sisters seemed puzzled at first. Just what was their sentence? How would they be put to death? It took a moment for the judge’s words to sink in, then they both began to weep aloud. While no judge had ever handed down this type of sentence before, the new laws were clear; in capital cases, judges had the authority to pass down whatever sentence they wished. Moriarty was stretching the envelope by passing on specifics of the sentencing directly to the warden at the punishment facility. It was a novel idea, and Moriarty believed it would help relieve of some of the pressure the press had placed on her recent harsh judicial decisions. With the press didn’t know was that Judge Lydia and Warden Ann had briefly been lesbian lovers 10 years earlier, and the judge was clearly aware of her former partners sadistic side. She trusted that the sentence would be carried out to her satisfaction.

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Within hours of their sentencing the two condemned sisters arrived at the facility in the middle of the Nevada desert. While Janice and Andrea were being escorted off the plane in shackles they both looked up and saw the large complex of white windowless industrial buildings in the distance. They both knew it would be their brief final abode on earth.

Handcuffed with their hands behind their back and still wearing orange jail garb, the sisters were shuffled along in ankle irons as they were lead towards and awaiting entourage of several Jeeps. To the sisters’ surprise, the Jeeps did not drive towards the entrance to the Women's Punishment Facility, but the entourage turned and headed toward a barren section of smooth, flat desert floor where several other jeeps were parked.

Seven large, shirtless African male guards, each of whom had been personally selected by Warden Bowden, sweated as they pounded eight evenly spaced long iron stakes deep into the hard, lightly reddish desert floor. As the black guards sweated in the sun, several white male guards set up a separate small tent canopy just feet away to allow shade for the warden and her help. Next to the canopy several female guards worked on starting a small charcoal camp fire. To the casual viewer one might believe they were witnessing an afternoon outing if it were not for the bizarre desert location.

Earlier in the day Warden Bowden was telephoned by Judge Moriarty and informed of her unusual sentence. Bowden’s creative mind had been working overtime ever since.

Bowden and several white male and female guards turned to face the newly arriving female prisoners as they were hustled barefoot from the jeep onto the hot, baked red desert floor about a kilometer from the facility. The seven huge sweaty, shirtless African guards continued to pound their pattern of iron stakes.

One of the white male guards standing next to the warden held a canvas bag containing more than a dozen leather restraint straps and cuffs.

Warden Ann Bowden exchanged no pleasantries upon meeting the sisters, and did not even address the women for several long moments. Her long, silent glaring stare was meant to imply that she viewed the condemned sisters as inanimate objects, sort of the way one would look at an old junk car before sending it to the crusher.

“Unshackle them and completely strip them” she ordered to her guard team in a stern, authoritarian voice.

Surrounded by guards and with absolutely with no place to run, the sisters obediently raise their hands above their heads as their shackles were remove from their wrists and ankles. Within moments several guards produced sharp scissors and quickly began to cut away the oversized orange smocks and trousers as the two frightened sisters were stripped completely naked as they stood surrounded by guards in the hot open desert.

“Ladies, I am Warden Ann Bowden. I have been authorized to sentence you for your crimes and will do so at this time.”

As Bowden spoke her black guards put down their mallets and stood on the desert floor behind her.

“For the next 72 hours you will be kept very much alive and alert by medical intervention if necessary. You will receive no solid food but will be hydrated intravenously at regular intervals with sugar water as necessary.”

Bowden paused a moment and then walked up to Janice, the bustier of the two, and, reaching up with both hands, slowly began to firmly twist her wide, light brown nipples as she spoke.

“You and your sister are going to be staked down to the desert floor. The lady guards here are going to use hot Brazilian wax to rip out your pussy hair by the roots. You see the muscles on these big black hunks behind me? Just wait till you see their long, thick black dicks. I assure you, they’re like none you’re ever seen. Their going to rape you and sis in every hole you’ve got, and not just once honey, but as many time as they want.”

“At least a half-dozen times in each of your tight little holes” Bowden continued as she twisted harder.

“And I’ve got something special to start out with. Just to make sure everything is warmed up down there before we get started,” the warden pausing as one of the female guards handed her a wooden fraternity-type paddle, “you’re each going to get 25 hard swats on the bottom before we tie you down.”

Both women wept aloud as Bowden ordered them to bend over, touch their toes, and slightly been their knees. The frightened, naked sisters obediently complied, confident that any resistance to him would only worsened their torture. Janice was first. By the fifth hard stroke her bottom was beet red and she was wailing. At the 11th stroke she fell to her knees and pleaded that she could take no more. Andrea, still touching her toes and awaiting her punishment, quivered with fear as tears dripped directly onto the hot dry desert clay.

“Stand up and assume the position Janice, or I will read out your nipples with a pair of pliers. You have 10 seconds to comply.”

From the corner of her tear-filled eye, Janice could see a female guard reach into a small canvas tool bag and produce a pair of water pump pliers. At first glance of the implements the 27-year-old, still tearfully crying, her jet black hair now dusted with sand, leapt to her feet and touched her toes once again. Ann Bowden proceeded with the punishment, and just before the 25th stroke the screaming girl pissed herself, puddling urine on the desert floor as her firm, full round buttocks began to bleed slightly under the final stings of the paddle.

The warm up paddling was no easier for Andrea. As the fem-dom warden handed the 29-year-old bottle blond her own series of strong, firm paddle strokes, the guards saw to it that Janice was securely staked down to the desert floor. Janice was staked down facing the late afternoon sun. Her arms were cuffed to iron stakes in a spread eagle fashion. A leather belt was passed over her lower chest and attached to stakes at either side of her. The guards then grabbed her ankles and, bending her knees back as far as they could go, attached her knees to another set of stakes just lateral to her breasts. Finally, Janice’s ankles were strapped wide open somewhere just above her shoulders.

Once both sisters were strapped down to the desert floor with her pelvis spread wide before the assembled, a female guard proceeded smear hot wax over each woman’s mons pubis and vulva. A second guard poured cold ice water over each crotch to set the wax. Without fanfare the female guard then with great force firmly ripped the pubic hair of each woman out by its roots. The screams could be heard from miles. Once Janice and Andrea had caught their breath from screaming, Anne Bowden spoke again.

“Dr. Wexler, our staff gynecologist, will be joining us just before sunset. I’m instructed him to burn each of your clitoris’ off completely by the root. There won’t be any anesthesia, and, the doctor will be using any of his fancy equipment, just a glowing, hot wire from my little campfire over here.”

“But because I am such a caring and understanding purveyor of justice, I thought I did you each the chance of having one final orgasm with your now so cutely splayed pussy.”

Bowden stepped back under the protective shade of her wall-less desert tent, smirking as the seven muscular black guards walked up and faced the sisters and began to undo their pants.

Andrea gasped as she laid eyes on the set of seven huge black cocks. It was more than she could take. She began to cry a soft, baby like cry with tears rolling down her cheeks as the first of the seven knelt between her up spread legs.

“Oh God, oh God is too big is too big I can’t take it. Please no, God no, NO” Andrea screamed as the first of her multiple rapists forced himself deep inside her, childless, little-used vagina.

“Goddamn you fucking nigger” Janice shouted as she watched the guard pound her sister. Little did she know that her racial fury would only exacerbate the intensity of the rape.

Andrea screamed continuously during her first rape, drawing Janice’s attention from the fact that she would soon be next. Bowden’s directions had been clear. Before Dr. Wexler arrived to burn off their clitoris’, each of the seven black guards was to rape each of the women both vaginally and rectally.

Andrea fought for sure he should climax any moment, and when the guard pulled out of her vagina for moment, she thought he was done. To her shock he leaned forward again, this time tipping his penis head slightly lower.

When the guard began to force is huge dripping tool into her anus, Andrea screamed “No, no, no not there. Please not there. I, I can’t, it’s too big I just can’t, not there.”

As Andrea received the first of seven hard anal rapes, another huge tooled black guard began to pound Janice’s vagina with all his might.

The multi rapes continued unabated for over two hours, with only momentary breaks for the female guards to swab out the sperm filled rape holes in order to keep them as dry and tight as possible.

The sun was beginning to set when Dr. Wexler, two of his female assistants, and Jason all arrived at the desert encampment by jeep. There been a change of venue from punishment theater seven, and the two are running a little late.

Jason wouldn’t help but stare at the two women staked to the desert floor, their faces wet with tears, their eyes filled with terror, and their extremely spread pussies glistening in the waning sunlight.

Standing there with Wexler and all the male guards, Jason wondered what the few female guards assembled there thought of all this. He knew without a doubt that Anne Bowden was into it, and he knew Dr. Wexler’s assistants were devoted, but he had reservations about one female guard. The female guard in question, the one tending the fire, had refused to speak or make eye contact with him when he casually greeted her upon his arrival, and he noticed that she did not look at Dr. Wexler when he addressed her, inquiring if the hot circumcision wires were ready.

Jason noticed that each of the set of several crude cauterizing wires had wooden handles at one end and a single, tiny loop at the other. The loop end glowed as Wexler lift it up to inspect it. Jason assumed that the gynecologist would use the tiny loop end to burn out each clitoris with a slow, scooping motion. He assumed correctly.

Jason was amazed at how tightly the women had been bound to the desert floor. Jason had witnessed quite a number of punitive circumcisions at the male facility, and at least two here at the female prison, but he had seen none performed by cauterization. In fact, he had an idea that this would be more than just circumcision, but that Wexler would burn away each of the sisters’ entire clits. The idea the women being burned between the legs with a glowing hot wire, all while the unapproving, or at least uncomfortable, young female guard was forced to watch, excited him.

“I’m Dr. Wexler, the prison surgeon. Your sentence of female circumcision and full clitorectomy by cauterization will now be carried out.”

Before Wexler could say another word, Jason watched as the strapped down sisters’ faces twisted up in tears. Andrea began to cry softly aloud.

“Janice will be first” Wexler continued over the soft crying.

“God no, please, God no, NO!” Janice screamed and twisted against her restraints as Wexler approached and knelt before her spread pussy with the strange, glowing wire tool.

“Don’t do this, please don’t do this to my sister” Andrea pleaded as Wexler inserted two gloved fingers from his free hand deep into Janice’s vagina and lifted up the clitoral area by applying upward pressure just behind the G-spot.

Handing the glowing wire tool back to his assistant Wexler announced “It’s two compact, I’m going to have to sew the lips open.”

“Oh my God, my God, no, NO!” Janice screamed and then broke down in a long wailing sob as the assistant handed Dr. Wexler a large curved needle with surgical thread attached.

Despite that he had just masturbated 30 minutes earlier, Jason’s erection once again grew as he watched the strapped-down woman scream in horror while Wexler passed the needle repeatedly through her pussy lips and handed the threads to assistants standing at either side. The assistants then pulled threads tight, spreading the pussy lips wide apart, clearly revealing Janice’s clitoral treasure for the gynecologist.

Still holding the labia wide with sutures, both of Wexler’s assistants giggled as urine squirted onto their boss’ surgical smock as he first touched Janice’s clitoral tissue with the small, glowing hot wire or fresh from the fire of coals. Once Janice’s pussy lips had been stretched far part, the actual procedure only took Dr. Wexler a minute. He firmly press the wire loop deep over Janice’s clitoris as the young woman shuttered and flailed with burning pain and humiliation. Handing off the cool wire for a fresh, glowing hot one, Dr. Wexler proceeded to burn away that only Janice’s clitoris but all the immediately surrounding tissues. As his own little punitive measure, for pissing on his smock, Wexler also burned away at the opening of Janice’s little pee-hole.

Five minutes after the procedure was done Janice’s wailing cry could still be heard a half mile away. Now it was her sister’s turn.

Jason relished in the sight of Andrea struggling against her restraints as Wexler approached her open thighs. “This one is wide open” the doctor announced, indicating to his assistants that suturing the vaginal lips would not be necessary on this one.

“No goddamn it, no, no you’re not doing that to me, you mother fucker” Andrea screamed as she was about to receive Wexler’s wire.

As Dr. Wexler leaned forward, Andrea spat at him, striking him in the face.

Wexler replied calmly by first handing the red-hot wire tool to his assistant, and then he turned and firmly slapped Andrea cross the face. Andrea hung her head and began to cry.

“Now listen to me, you are going to get burned down there just like your sister did, and I’m going to do it, do you understand bitch?” Dr. Wexler growled as he stuck two finger’s deep into Andrea’s bald pussy. Andrea’s only reply was to weep aloud.

Andrea screamed at the top of her lungs as the prison gynecologist pressed the small, glowing red metal loop deep into her clitoris, instantly vaporizing it into a plume of smoke. At that moment she, too, emptied her bladder on the doctor.

Once Andrea’s howling screams had subsided to a steady, convulsing sob, Warden Bowden approached Dr. Wexler, addressing him and the condemned in the same sentence.

“Janice and Andrea, in just a few moments you are both going to have each of your nipples crushed completely with a pair of pliers. Then I’m going to lay off of you for the rest of the evening, during which time you’ll be placed under Dr. Wexler’s care so that he can keep you healthy in order to allow you to sustain further punitive measures tomorrow.”

Then turning to Wexler she added “First thing in the morning, I want both of these bitches to undergo a rapidly accelerated false pregnancy and delivery. Do I make myself clear Dr. Wexler?”

“You’re the boss, warden” the doctor replied with clear sarcasm.

As a guard approached Janice with a pair of pliers in his hands, Wexler turned and added a suggestion to Warden Bowden’s repertoire.

“You know, Warden Bowden, my years as a gynecologist and obstetrician have taught me that the female nipple is an extremely durable tissue. I might suggest, have any creative measure, that you first untied the condemned females from the stakes, then hog-tie them with their hands and feet together behind her back so that they can’t walk, and then proceed to see just how far they can be dragged back to the facility by their nipples with pliers, before their nipples rip off.”

Jason had a feeling that Warden Bowden would be jealous over the fact that she had not been so creative herself. As he and Wexler drove off in the jeep that night the last sound that he heard was a horrifying pleading of Andrea as, face up on the desert floor, her hands and feet now locked together behind her at her waist, two guards slowly dragged her, each with a pliers in his hand, firmly clamped on her now 6 inch long stretched nipples.

“Ladies, I am Warden Ann Bowden

Chapter 12 Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

by Jill Crokett

After only a single night of rest from their brutal rape and torture in the desert, Janice and Andrea Antroidi now awaited a totally new experience, one which neither of them had ever endured. Childbirth. But today they would not bring Vito Antroidi’s descendents into the world. This day, in just a few hours, each of the sisters would give birth to a dense, sponge-like, football shaped object.

Ever since a Danish obstetrician had invented the false pregnancy system a decade earlier, the worldwide epidemic of cesarean sections had been cut in half. Now women with narrow birth canals or narrow pelvic bones, for whom the possibility of natural childbirth was formerly nearly impossible, could now undergo one or two of these false childbirth procedures before getting pregnant, thus stretching them out and allowing them to then give birth naturally.

Undergoing this procedure assured that one’s vagina and surrounding connective tissues, including the semi articulating bones of the pelvis, were loosened up and prepared for a real, live birth. Some physicians referred to the rather uncomplicated procedure simply as “birth prep”, and millions of women worldwide had safely undergone it as a non surgical way to prepare them for natural birthing.

Healthcare systems now saved hundreds of millions of dollars a year by avoiding needless cesarean sections, and the health risks associated with the often needless surgery had been cut dramatically. The only major downside to this medical development was that women were now being placed through the pain and humiliation of “false birth” before they endured the final torture of live birth.

With the new false birthing procedure, since an inanimate object cannot be put at risk, no medical attention was required to be directed toward the fetus, saving money and manpower, and virtually all women that had undergone “false” first had fewer complication during “live” birthing. At birth, much of the medical attention is directed toward the fetus. During the false pregnancy procedure, girls could simply be strapped down and left screaming for hours. And when it was all done their bodies were better prepared to deliver vaginally without complication.

Following their desert experience the sisters had been left undisturbed for the night, but their rest was short-lived. At 6:45 a.m. guards dragged them from their cells and carried them down a long white hallway where Dr. Wexler and his team of obstetrical nurses awaited them. Due to the way Superior Court Judge Lydia Moriarty sentenced 27-year-old Janice and 29-year-old Andrea, the sisters did not know the details of their sentence and, because of this, every turn of the corner increased their anxiety.

When the stainless steel double doors in front of them opened, the sisters could see in a large, fully equipped obstetrical theatre with two slightly tilted birthing table’s, complete with laterally winged, full leg stirrup troughs spread wide open.

Andrea’s eyes rapidly swelled with tears and Janice began to weep aloud softly as they witnessed the obvious intentions of the medical suite with its large surgery spotlights hanging over the delivery tables. Andrea’s face curled and she made brief eye contact with Dr. Wexler, whose look of impending doom was evident even from behind his surgical mask.

The silence was broken when the telephone rang. The nurse told Wexler it was the warden calling.

“Doctor, the timeline must be moved up on these Antroidi women. We can’t hold off executing the three tunnel terrorist gals much longer, and I don’t want these two guinea sisters getting in the way, do you understand?” Bowden bellowed into the phone. “I need the Antroidi sisters taken care of today doctor, tomorrow my be to late. I desperately need to move up the schedule on Diane, Tracy, and Sara. We need to be looking at no more than 48 hours from now for them. Our calculations are that Tracy is about to start her period, and I don’t want to deal with that shit during the execution. Do you understand doctor?”

“Yes Warden, whatever you say ma’am” Wexler replied patronizingly, fully knowing that he was nothing but Bowden’s lackey lap dog.

Standing completely naked with their arms handcuffed behind their backs, each sister was shuffled toward one of the awaiting surgical tables.

“Unshackle them, strap them down in the full lithotomy position, and shave them again, completely” the team head nurse ordered in an authoritarian voice.

With no place to hide their shame, the sisters stood at the foot of their assigned delivery table and obediently raised their arms above their heads once their handcuffs were removed. Together, they were about to undergo an experience their female ancestors knew all too well. For the entire mid 20^th-century the process of being stripped naked, spread-wide and clean shaved for an OB/Gyn was a process that half of the adult population was familiar with.

Andrea was first. Her wrists were buckled down in leather restraints with her arms overhead. A wide leather restraint belt was passed over her chest just below her breasts and attached to the table at either side of her. The guards then grabbed her ankles and bent her knees, attaching them into the stirrups with straps firmly placed at the ankles, knees and thighs.

Once Janice was also firmly strapped down in the same position as Andrea, the nurses inserted IV needles into each sister’s arms and hooked thin clear plastic tubes to each needle. These tubes would carry the drugs which would rapidly induced labor. Dr. Wexler then carefully adjusted the stirrup positions and table angles on each of the tables, spreading the thighs and tilting the buttocks end slightly higher until each of the sisters’ labial lips seemed to pout upward in a wide-open spread. He wasted no time grabbing a huge syringe affixed with a wide gauge needle, proceeding to load it with the rapidly expansive false pregnancy material which he would soon inject into each woman’s uterus.

Andrea begged “Oh my God, my God, please doctor, NO, no not THIS!” as Wexler aligned the giant needle with the entrance of her vagina. She then broke down in a long, wailing sob as the doctor firmly pressed the fat needle home, directing its sharp tip through the tiny opening of her cervix. As Dr. Wexler unloaded the syringe deep into her as yet unfruitful uterus, Andrea began to cry aloud. Laying strapped into the stirrups, her heels turned nearly bottom-up, she pleaded for her sister Janice to help her. But Janice herself was only minutes away from the shared predicament.

“This is the rapid method” Wexler announced to the sisters. “I’ve never tried it before. Within 90 minutes you both should have pelvis’ swollen up like watermelons, and those watermelons will then be ready to be slowly passed through your birth canals. Please don’t blame me for this one, ladies, I didn’t come up with this system” the doctor added as he winked at his middle-aged head nurse.

“In less than three hours you'll both have experienced something that only half the population can fully appreciate. Unfortunately for you, being that you are both condemned drug manufacturers, your painful labor will only produce an inanimate, football shaped object.”

The head nurse rolled her eyes as Wexler continued with his lecture.

Raising up from his short rolling examination stool, Dr. Wexler announced “You are now going to undergo a rapidly accelerated false pregnancy and delivery. Do you have any questions?”

Neither sister spoke, but both turned sideways and made eye contact with one another. They seemed to ask themselves what had led their lives to this point.

Wexler turned to his head nurse and ordered “I’m leaving for breakfast. Call me if there are any complications.”

Over the next hours Janice and Andrea experienced unbelievable pain as their uteruses rapidly swelled, expanding their pelvises near the bursting point. As the doctor enjoyed his second cup of coffee in the executive level employee lounge, the two condemned women moaned and twisted against their restraints as their bellies ballooned unbelievably fast. In the time it took for Dr. Wexler to enjoy a leisurely breakfast, the sisters’ lower abdomens were the size of a ripe Mexican melon. Their belly buttons now popped upward, indicating they were done.

Ninety minutes later Dr. Wexler returned to the sight of two full term pregnant females, fully prepped and spread open before him on adjoining delivery tables, their legs strapped into the high, wide obstetrical stirrups. He immediately walked up to each spread pelvis and instinctively bent his head down to look into the now shortened birth canal. Without speaking, Dr. Wexler then gave an animated signal to the head nurse, ordering her to begin pumping the powerful hormone-based uterine contraction drug into the clear plastic IV tubes which led to each sisters’ arm.

Within minutes Andrea and Janice were moaning and sweating heavily. As the labor rapidly commenced Dr. Wexler began walking from one spread pelvis to the other another, and, as he had done thousands of times before, thrust two gloved fingers inside each vagina, feeling for changes in cervix dilation.

It wasn’t long before both sisters were pleading for mercy at the top of their lungs. The rapid uterine contractions were just seconds apart as the girls dripped with sweat and cried as they struggled against the restraint straps which held them firmly in place on the table.

Janice, the more stoic of the two, finally broke down and let out a deep cry of helplessness. Wexler wiggled his wrist and forced his entire hand deep into her vagina, palpating the position of the football-shaped rubbery object she was giving birth to. As he did Janice begged with unintelligible utterances, her face distorting in horror. As if struggling to end Janice’s deafening shriek, Wexler yanked hard on the nose of the football in an attempt to pull the huge dense spongy object from between her legs as bright red blood dripped onto the white tile floor.

In the throws of heavy labor, each forceful labor contraction racked Janice’s body. As the nursing team looked on, Wexler order one of them to push down on Janice’s abdomen while he had another nurse unwrap a sterile tray of surgical instruments just in case an episiotomy was needed. He pulled hard, hoping he wouldn’t need them.

The shriek was as high pitched as any human could make as Wexler yanked the football from between Janice’s crotch.

Dr. Wexler, not wanting to waste any more time on the project, nodded to a nurse, who immediately increased the IV flow to Andrea, sending more of the hormone based drug into her veins. Almost immediately she began to gnash her teeth and scream as ultra-strong, violent uterine contractions rippled through her torso.

Andrea pleaded with God to take her as Wexler began to repeat the process, slipping his full hand deep into her now stretched vulva. Sweat covered her nude body, causing it to glisten as she struggled. Wexler plunged his entire forearm in as deep as he could as the sweat-covered woman screamed. As he worked deeper Andrea became speechless, her mouth gaping in a vain attempt at verbal expression.

Needless to say, the Antroidi sisters’ day had not begun well. And it was going to get worse.

Chapter 13 Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

by Jill Crokett

Execution of the Terrorist Housewives Chapter Thirteen by Jillian Victoria Crokett Copyright 2006. This story is fiction. All names used are completely fictitious, including the author’s name, and any resemblance to a real person is coincidental and no association is implied or intended. This story may not be copied or posted elsewhere. Reading by persons under 18 years of age is prohibited. Cruelty depicted is a transcription of the author’s mental thought process, and it in no way condones illegal or immoral behavior.

Setting update: It is the mid-21st century and prisons are now obsolete in North America. All punishment is either corporal, capital, or both. The as yet un-won War On Terrorism continues and is harshly prosecuted at every turn through strict new reforms within both the American and Canadian judicial systems.

Updated Review of Main Characters:

Diane is a 42-year-old divorced mom and the presumed ringleader of the three female tunnel terrorists. She has short, light-brown haired, is 5’, 4” tall, and is modestly overweight. Diane’s most striking feature is her hanging, full double D-cup breasts which are complimented by her wide-at-the-hips bottom and narrowing waist. Diane has been sentenced to death for her role in the heinous act of terrorism.

Sara is a beautiful 33-year-old housewife and the mother of a young son. Her natural strawberry-blond hair, cut just up off her shoulders, compliments her flawless cream-colored skin. Sara’s trim, athletic body stands 5’, 7” and is appointed with small, firm breasts and a tight boyish bottom. Both of these features reveal the sharp tan lines of a two-piece swimsuit. Sara was sentenced along with her best friend Diane.

Tracy is Diane's petite 16-year-old daughter. She has long, straight, blond-highlighted hair and a thin, boyish figure. She was convicted along with her mom and Sara as an adult co-conspirator in a terrorist act and is to be put to death along with them.

Bill and Karen are a couple from Long Island, New York who have been selected by lottery to witness executions in Nevada. Their young son was a victim of terrorism and they hope to witness the execution of his presumed killers. Bill is a tanned, blue-jean-wearing, physically fit home builder in his early forties. His wife Karen is an attractive but overweight housewife. She has latent bisexual tendencies and is naturally submissive to her husband.

Warden Anne Bowden is the steel-eyed, late-thirty-something, all-business warden of the Federal Female Punishment Center at Elk Flat, Nevada. Warden Bowden, a well known authority on female penal administration, takes her job seriously, is a workaholic, and has no hobbies outside of the Female Punishment Center. She has never married. Ms. Bowden always wears a dark-colored conservative business jacket with matching knee length skirt, and her dark brunette hair is often worn in a bun.

Dr. Wexler, , is the medical director of the Federal Female Punishment Center at Elk Flat. The 52-year-old OB/Gyn is a sadistic loner whose wife and children were killed years earlier by a drunk driver. Along with Warden Anne Bowden he oversees the administration of punishment to all Federal female prisoners.

Jason is the fresh-faced, carrot-haired 23-year-old graduate student performing an administrative internship at the Federal Female Punishment Center. He performs minor administrative duties for the warden’s staff and is free to observe any procedure that occurs at the facility.

Janice and Andrea Antroidi are late-twenty-something sisters convicted and condemned for their operation of a large-scale illicit drug manufacturing business. They are the daughters of a recently executed high-level mobster.

The timeline to execute the Antroidi sisters had to be moved up in order to avoid delaying the execution of the Diane, Sara, and Tracy, the three condemned tunnel terrorists. Within hours of their false delivery, the Antroidi sisters were hustled nude down a barren, stark white hallway towards the punishment theatre where a low-platform gallows had been temporarily set up. Over the gallows platform hung a single steel cable looped in the form of a simple noose. The gallows platform was only a foot higher than the rest of the room, and it lacked the traditional drop door in its floor. The hanging would occur when the noose was slowly winched upward.

Jason stood and watched with a handful of other mostly male witnesses as the stripped-to-the-waist sisters were led handcuffed into the room. Each wore only a diaper, and each female had had her hair cropped boyishly short. 27-year-old Janice’s face curled and she began to cry silently as soon as she saw the noose. Reality suddenly set in that this was the end for her and her sister. Warden Bowden stepped forward and announced that she had chosen hanging as the method of execution, and that both sisters, one at a time, would hang by the neck until dead. She announced that Andrea would hang first. Janice’s heart sank as she realized she would witness her own sister’s death before taking her turn at the gallows. She bowed her head as her tears dripped onto the concrete floor.

Guards surrounded the two condemned females and attached a wide leather belt around each waist, snugging it firmly just above the diaper. The girls handcuffs were then moved behind their backs and hooked to the back of the belt. With their arms behind them, Jason noticed how the tight belts trimmed the girls’ waists, accentuating their figures. The handcuff belts also allowed the nearly all-male gallery of witnesses to get a clear view of the girls’ bare chests rising and falling with anxious, rapid breaths. Both sisters’ nipples were swollen and red from their torture in the desert the evening before. Each had multiple purple whip and strap marks across her thighs. Jason thought the two sisters looked peculiar in diapers, a necessity of their false pregnancies which had been terminated just a few hours earlier.

With a nod from Warden Bowden two guards grabbed Andrea and hustled her onto the stage. The steel looped cable was quickly slipped over her head and tightened. No one asked for last words and no preacher prayed. There was no offer of a blindfold or a last cigarette. A guard crouched and strapped a thick leather belt around Andrea’s thighs, squeezing them together as a second guard tightly strapped another belt around her calves.

“Make her watch” Warden Bowden commanded as she shot a glance toward the guard holding Janice. The guard instantly grabbed Janice’s hair and jerked her head up, forcing her to watch her sister’s impending death. A mechanical hum was heard and the cable tightened just slightly, taking all slack from the slim steel cable. With another slight whine of the winch Andrea was lifted onto her tiptoes. Her eyes bulged with terror. She tried to plead with her voice but in was too late. Three seconds later another mechanical sound was heard and the young woman, now on her tiptoes, was lifted just about one inch off the floor by her neck. Her wrists struggled behind her back for freedom. Andrea’s face pleaded for mercy as her toes sought in vain for terra firma, just an inch below. Her arms, clipped behind her waist, continued to thrash wildly for freedom.

As Andrea’s toes ever so slightly cleared the floor a female guard reached out and gently held one of her shoulders to keep her body from spinning as she hung. Another female guard immediately bent down and began unbuckling the thigh and calf restraint straps, allowing the belts to drop to the gallows floor with a plop. As her legs were set free, Andrea’s knees flexed upward and she began to peddle for the floor. The guard holding her shoulder then reached down and unpinned Andrea's diaper. It fell to the floor revealing smooth shaved labia which were blue with the strap marks of a belt. As it fell, urine trickled onto the stage from between her legs.

After an eternal minute Andrea’s struggling slowed. After several more minutes passed her leg movements stopped and Andrea’s now limp body began to ever so slowly spin on the axis of the tightened vertical cable, her head acutely cocked to one side. The room’s silence was shattered when Janice suddenly sobbed aloud in a deep, agonizing despair as she gazed at her sister’s last moments.

A gurney was wheeled in and lifted onto the low stage by two large black male guards. Dr. Wexler walked in with them, stethoscope in hand. He pressed the cold stethoscope to Andrea’s bare chest and listened, then turned to Anne Bowden and said “I need go ahead and harvest this one while there’s still a faint heartbeat.” “Should I go ahead and start, or wait for this one” he said, motioning with his index finger toward Janice.

Before Bowden could answer Dr. Wexler, Janice desperately exclaimed "Please ma'am, please have mercy on me. I don't want to die ma'am, please, I beg you please."

"Go ahead and take Andrea and harvest her, doctor, I want to take my time with this one" Bowden said referring to Janice.

Turning back toward Janice, Warden Bowden sharply replied "No mercy for you bitch, as a matter of fact, I have a little bonus for you." On those words a guard stepped forward and produced two thick hardwood boards which had four long wing-nut-tipped bolts running through them.

"We’re going to crush your breasts before we hang you, Janice" the Warden said matter-of-factly.

Janice tried to struggle as guards held her up while the warden herself slipped the large wooden clamp device over both of Janice's breasts. Then freeing one hand Anne Bowden reached through the device and grabbed Janice's nipples one at a time, squeezing them tightly and pulling them through the device. Several unpaired hands then worked together turning the multiple wing knobs to firmly tighten the clamps down. Janice groaned as the boards slowly tightened down together, flattening her tits and causing her swollen nipples to perk out the end of the wooden vice.

"Please no, please stop, it hurts so, so bad, please" Janice pleaded as the guards and tightened the clamps as far as they could before taking up a mechanic’s wrench and tightening them even further, this time to the crushing point.

Her tits crushed in agony, Janice was forced to watch while her sister Andrea’s nude, lifeless body was lifted, unmoored from the noose, and laid out on a gurney. At that moment Jason realized that he would enjoy watching the double harvest of the sister’s organs.

Janice groaned and pleaded as she endured the crushing force on her breasts. She was carried to the stage and stood at the same spot where her sister had just been hanged. The same straps were applied around her legs and the entire procedure was repeated, only this time heavy wooden clamps weighed down, crushing the condemned young woman’s breasts. Janice, usually the more stoic of the two sisters, finally broke down and let out a deep cry of helplessness as the steel noose cable was slipped over her head.

Janice tried to manage a final plea as a whining sound of the motor lifted her no more than a centimeter off the floor. She shook rather violently and her eyes rolled up into her head as she was lifted. A female guard unbuckled her legs while a male guard unhooked her wrists from the handcuffs, allowing her to struggle freely for a few moments before she lost consciousness. It was more of a strangling than a hanging. Her now free to hands grappled for a throat but it was useless. While she was still in her final moments of consciousness one of the female guards stripped Janice of her diaper. Jason stared as she peed on the floor.

20 minutes later Jason stood in the Autopsy/Organ Harvest Room and stared again, this time at the hanging lifeless bodies of Andrea and Janice. Stripped of everything, the two executed sisters hung upside down by their ankles, awaiting Dr. Wexler’s harvesting scalpel. Jason listened to the sweet hum of an electric motor as the sister’s feet were spread wide apart, positioning their femininity for harvest. He gazed in fascination as Dr. Wexler removed the sisters’ vulva lips and attached vaginas with surgical precision. Like the bull in the slaughterhouse the sisters were then split from the crotch to the neck and their vital organs carefully harvested.

16-year-old Tracy Howell sat naked in her cell as a large team of guards assembled outside her cell door. The heavy door rumbled open and Warden Anne Bowden entered, accompanied by two tall, broad shouldered black male guards. She had come to explain something to Tracy.

"Tracy, the time has come for the final steps of your sentence to be carried out. I have come here today to tell you that in a few hours you'll be taken to the main punishment and execution theater, where you and Mrs. Stahler will be put to death.”

Tears welled in Tracy’s eyes but she said nothing.

“Your mother’s sentence will be carried out 24 hours after yours and Sara’s. It is my official duty to inform you now that the prescribed time window for a stay of execution has passed.”

The warden's words were a formality. Tracy and the other women had known all along that there was no chance of a stay of execution. The nation was in no mood to grant mercy for terrorists and mass killers of innocent commuters.

"As warden of this facility I have discretion over execution protocol, and I have made the decision that you will be executed second, just after Sara Stahler. It is my decision that your mother will be forced to watch your execution. You will be required to watch Sara's."

Tracy just stared ahead trancelike. She knew that nothing the warden would say would change anything. The 16-year-old knew all too well that she would soon endure further torture and then be put to death. Tracy sat on her cell bunk and listened. Her nudity and become a secondary issue to life-and-death, and she did not attempt cover her young tits or pussy with her hands as she had just days earlier.

“Because of the exact nature of your execution,” the warden continued, “which I cannot yet reveal, we will not be whipping you or Mrs. Stahler just before your execution."

It was usual and customary for all condemned prisoners, both female as well as male, to receive a thorough punitive whipping with a bullwhip before being put to death. For some as yet unrevealed reason the warden had elected to forgo this cruel indignity on Sara and Tracy. “But why?” Tracy thought.

"I'll explain the details of your execution later, but I want you to know that I have selected an alternative pre-execution punitive punishment for you Tracy, and that punishment is going to be carried out right now. I have ordered seven of my biggest black guards rape you, in any orifice they wish, as many times as they can for the next two hours. I would let them do it longer Tracy, but we don't have much time."

The warden did not elaborate further but quickly turned and left the cell without looking back or uttering another word. As soon as she exited, five more large African guards entered the tiny steel-walled cell.

Tracy did not speak but only groaned slightly as two muscular, coal-black men lifted her by her underarms arms and placed her on the cell floor as five others unbuckled and dropped their uniform trousers. The team of guards surrounded her and pinned the slender, petite teenager down with her back against the cold concrete floor and her arms pinned out straight to each side as if crucified. As guards to either side held the 16-year-olds arms flat against the floor, a third black guard crouched just above her head and with the palm of his hands pushed her shoulders down flat against the concrete.

Two more guards firmly gripped each of Tracy’s slim legs and flexed her knees and hips, pressing her kneecaps awkwardly against the concrete floor just up under her underarms. These same two guards then freed one hand each to tightly grasp each ankle, drawing in tightly back above Tracy’s head. As they did the young blonde’s butt cheeks lifted up off the floor, spreading her shaved girl-crack for the first of seven African rapists.

One at a time the guards took a cruel turn at deeply raping the vagina and tight young ass of the now crying teenager. As they worked their violating terror on her, Tracy screamed aloud with each and every deep, full thrust, shouting her moans as the massive cocks alternately pounded her femininity and rectum. As each successive guard climaxed, they shifted their restraining positions so that six held and one fucked, giving each an equitable turn with the girl. However humiliatingly terrifying and painful for Tracy, the experience was certainly most gratifying for the guards. They would owe the warden big-time for this one. Each thickly-hung black man experienced in that tiny cell a level of pleasure and enjoyment none had had in months.

As sweaty, shinny, ebony skin huddled over the tender young white girl, a half-dozen several white female guards and staff secretaries gathered at the open cell door to catch a glimpse of thrusting coal-black butt cheeks and listened to screams that could only be emitted from a young girl who was being raped by a rigid, huge thick penis. One at a time the guards ejaculated deep inside Tracy’s tight 16-year-old ass, moaning aloud as they orgasmed. With each deep, pounding thrust Tracy cried out in helplessness. As she did, Warden Anne Bowden was making a final, pre-execution visit to the beautiful condemned prisoner Sara Stahler.

Note to fans of Jill Crokett’s "Execution of the Terrorist Housewives":

Dear Reader,

This installment of the 13th chapter should move "Execution of the Terrorist Housewives" into the ‘top 20 overall stories’ category on the BDSM Library site.

Being listed as one of the top 20 stories from among the thousands of excellent stories posted on this site gives me great satisfaction, and I thank you, the reader, for your loyal readership and support.

I would like my readers to known that I have no formal training as a writer, but am simply an unschooled amateur who dares to walk in the dark with her pen. I am a divorced, bisexually curious, late-forty-something, Southern California working woman who, having successfully raised my two now adult children, genuinely enjoys bringing unknown others satisfaction by exploring the dark corners of my imagination.

I enjoy hearing that others enjoy my work and I sincerely appreciate being made aware of that enjoyment through your many e-mails. I must admit that I write with a desire to please a male audience, but that said, I am curious to know if any other middle-aged females share an interest in my storyline. If so, I’d like to hear from you. I welcome your comments at jcrokett@yahoo.com .

Be looking out for Chapter 14, which should post next week. I believe it is my most exciting chapter yet.

Chapter 12 Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

Chapter 14 Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

by Jill Crokett

Execution of the Terrorist Housewives Chapter Fourteen by Jill Crokett
Copyright 2006. This story is fiction. All names are completely fictitious and any resemblance to a real person is coincidental and no association is intended. This story may not be copied or posted elsewhere. Reading by persons under 18 years of age is prohibited.

"Sara" the warden ordered as the cell door rolled back, "step out into the hallway and assume the posture." Sara knew she was approaching by the characteristic ‘click-click’ of Anne Bowden’s stylish suede pumps which could be heard from far down the barren, stark white, fluorescent lit hallway. Throughout the facility the sound of her shoes was a tonal euphemism for approaching authority.

The female warden had arrived outside Sara Stahler’s cell just minutes after leaving young Tracy in the hands of seven loin aching, lust hungry black guards who were, at that very moment Anne thought, already “raping the little bitch in every orifice.”

The beautiful, completely naked 33-year-old mom and housewife obediently stepped out of her cell under the watchful gaze of several white male guards who accompanied the warden. She faced the warden and immediately raised her arms overhead in the assigned posture of submission when ordered to do so. Anne Bowden stepped back and said nothing for an uncomfortable moment, allowing her men to take in an eyeful of the attractive, surrendering female.

"Sara, it is my duty to inform you that today has been set as your execution date. In less than four hours you and Tracy Howell are to be put to death.”

With those words Sara obediently tried to keep her arms as her face crumpled at the cruel pronouncement. Tears immediately welled in her eyes at the thought of never seeing her son again.

“Diane Howell won’t be put to death till tomorrow. Her protocol is different than yours and Tracy’s” the warden added without emotion.

"H-H-H-ow?, how will, will it be done ma'am?" Sara asked in a meek, slightly quivering, almost tearful voice. Rumors were running rampant, not only in the prison but across the country, regarding the warden's chosen method of death for the three infamous female terrorists, and Sara knew it, having heard guards whispering.

"I cannot disclose your method of execution at this time, Mrs. Stahler, but a full disclosure will be made to you, in advance, before you are brought into the death chamber.”

Sara knew hauntingly well that the warden’s answer was an evasive one.

“All I can tell you at this time is that we are here to take you down the hall and prepare you for your execution, which will take place in roughly four hours" Warden Bowden stated in a monotone, business-like manner.

“But I can tell you that you will definitely not be bull-whipped before being put to death, as is often done in serious cases before a death sentence is carried out.”

Sara, clearly relieved, was given no explanation for this sudden display of leniency.

“I have some other good news for you, too, Mrs. Stahler” Bowden said using a pleasant tone of voice she rarely invoked, “To my surprise, authorities have partially granted your request for a final visit with your family.”

“Partial?” Sara replied with a tone of slight confusion.

“They have allowed you a brief final visit with your parents. I don't mind telling you that they overruled my recommendation against it. Death-house visits always place extra stress on my staff" she added, glancing at her guards.

Sara, her arms still raised submissively overhead, said "You, you mean ma'am, I, I can’t I see my son? I can’t see my little boy one last time, like, like I requested?"

Warden Bowden only answered Sara with a slightly sympathetic smile, then added with gently raised eyebrows “I’m sure you would agree that the death-house is no place for a young child, but, but you do wish to see your parents, don’t you Sara?”

“Oh, yes, yes ma’am I do” Sara Stahler replied with disappointment in her tone of voice.

More than any other condemned man or woman she had ever dealt with, Sara Stahler had caught Anne’s attention, but not out of sympathy or compassion, but simply out of admiration for Sara’s classic British-princess-like beauty. Every time she looked at her, Anne Bowden ached for the moment when she would hear the lovely Mrs. Stahler scream unintelligible babble, pleading for her life. Anne was inclined to favor witnessing the executions of a spread-eagled, muscular young rapists, savoring the sight of them crying like babies as they were bullwhipped and slowly castrated before a gallery of feminists. Now this creamy-skinned 33-year-old mom had her thinking otherwise.

“The visit with your parents was conditionally granted, Mrs. Stahler, contingent on your full cooperation with the preparations that will begin in just a few minutes. Any problems with your prep and I have the authority to cancel the visit.”

“No ma’am, I’ll, I’ll cooperate fully” Sara interjected.

“Your parents are already here waiting to see you. I believe they flew into Las Vegas last night, then drove up to the compound earlier this morning. But I must warn you Sara, if you agree to see them, it will be one at a time only, and even then you will be securely shackled and handcuffed for security reasons. Do you understand?"

Sara, clearly disappointed in knowing that her loved ones’ final memory of her would be of a chained prisoner, nodded affirmatively.

"I’ll send them in one at a time, and you’ll get only ten minutes with each. Just remember, if you’re the least bit uncooperative, the visitation is off. Understand?”

"Yes ma'am, I'll, I'll cooperate fully, I promise" Sara replied.

As if jumping at the promise, Warden Bowden quipped "Sara, these guards are now going to take you to a preparation room down the hall where you'll be given a crew cut, then shaved, your entire body, from the neck down, one last time. You will also be given an enema and a final shower. If you cooperate, and the guards don't have to restrain you, you’ll get too see your folks in about an hour."

For a brief moment Sara actually felt happy for the first time in months. She smiled a “thanks” at the female warden as guards led her away down the hall. Within minutes she stood obediently in the middle of the execution preparation room, naked, her arms raised in surrender as female execution technicians swarmed around her. As part of her cooperation agreement with Anne Bowden, she was not handcuffed or restrained, but stood stoically submissive as she was attended to by the white-uniformed women.

The technicians proceeded to shave Sara’s entire person from the neck down. Two technicians worked Sara’s legs and underarms, while another pair removed even the fine hairs of her arms, shaving them smooth all the way up to the wrist. Sara wondered if possibly she was to be electrocuted, as she had heard that hair was removed before electrocutions so that it would not burn. Even the ultra-fine hairs on her chest, tits, back, and buttocks were carefully shaved smooth without a trace.

After 20 minutes of standing with her arms held high, Sara was relieved to be moved to a short examination table where she was ordered to lie down on her back and spread her legs high and wide with her bottom slightly off the end of the table. She did so obediently, holding her legs in position, as there were no stirrups. In this position Sara was given an enema and her pussy was carefully shaved yet again, even though it was still bare from the last shaving just days earlier.

Once she was completely smooth from the neck down, Sara was ordered to sit on a small wooden stool that had been placed in the center of the room. She cringed as she heard the crisp buzz of electric clippers being switched on behind her. "Certainly I'm going to the electric chair" she thought as a technician slowly began to plow the vibrating clippers, back to front, the length of her scalp.

There was no mirror for her to see, but Sara could feel clumps of thick blonde hair falling on her shoulders with each pass of the clippers. She tearfully glanced down as a clump of beautiful, shiny blonde hair plopped onto her lap, artfully covering her bald pussy in faux modesty. The technician did not stop until the beautiful blond had the haircut of a Marine recruit; not shaved, but eerily short for an attractive young woman. Her eyebrows were left untouched.

With her blond hair boyishly short, Sara was led into another room where she was showered and scrubbed by several female technicians wearing long rubber aprons. Her nipples instantly turned bullet hard as the first blast of cold water hit her. Sara stood still under the cold downpour, her hands obediently folded atop her stubbly new hairstyle as strange hands groped and scrubbed every crack and fold. One of the women ordered her to spread her legs and she obeyed, assuming a stance that opened the crack of her butt cheeks. Sara felt a surgically gloved hand reach up between her legs from behind and scrub her bare pussy lips with a soapy washcloth. The hand did not stop at making a cursory pass over the external organ, but rather worked and probed for nearly a minute. Sara wondered if it were the last time another human would touch her there. Once finished with her genitalia, the tech re-soaped the cloth and continued scrubbing the crack of her ass as another rubber-apron clad woman impersonally soaped and scrubbed Sara’s firm B-cup tits.

Once every inch of Sara's skin was scrubbed clean, one of the technicians picked up a garden hose and rinsed her off thoroughly from head to toe with cool water. Despite the blast of the water Sara did not move, stoically holding her stance in the hope of seeing her parents again. Throughout the long, humiliating shower Sara’s only thought was that, if she obeyed, very soon she would see them, refusing to consider that it would be their last meeting.

Once the technicians had towel dried Sara, several male guards handcuffed her hands behind her back and attached walking shackles to her ankles. She was quickly shuffled down the hall and escorted into a small empty, windowless room. The only objects in the room were two steel posts which where firmly bolted in place, about four feet apart from one another, at the center of the room. The posts ran floor-to-ceiling. Steel attachment rings were securely in place near the top and bottom of each post. The guards, without speaking, quickly positioned Sara spread eagled in an X fashion an attached her to the posts. They then quickly exited the room without saying a word. As the last exiting guard moved to close the steel gray door behind him, he said “Your visitors will be in a moment.”

"No, nnnooooo!" Sara screamed at the top of her lungs, "No, no they can see me like this, please, please pleeease don't… don’t do this… not my mom and dad, please…" Sara hung her head and broke down in a deep sob like never before. Stripped naked, body-shaved, and spread-eagle before her parents; it would be the ultimate humiliation. She wanted to see them, but not like this. It was more than she could stand. Sara also realized that, because she was not free to move her arms or legs, there would be no final hug, not even the handshake.

"Please" she screamed, echoing into the silent, empty room, please give me a towel or drape or something, please, before they come in!" Her pleading was answered only by silence. Sara hung her head and cried as she imagined her parent’s final memory of their condemned daughter spread naked before them. She sighed a deep breath at the thought of her own father seeing her this way as he shared a final, awkward goodbye with his adult daughter. Sara's deepest wish had been to see her little boy and her parents one last time, but now even her partially granted wish was to be dipped in total humiliation.

The two late-middle-aged visitors stood and waited in a short hallway next to a bank of windowless interior doors. Sara's father was a gaunt, shaken man of 60 who had certainly aged a decade in the last 18 months. He wore an off-the-rack blue pinstriped suit which appeared out of place in the heat of the Nevada desert. He walked with the slight shuffle of a broken man. At 57, Sara's mother was still quite attractive. Her graying hair was flawlessly colored to a near perfect strawberry blond, matching its original color. She was about the same height and build as her daughter, and was in remarkably good physical shape for her age. She wore an elegantly simple, yellow short-sleeved knee-length Summer shift with matching heeled sandals. She would not have been out of place at an outdoor Summer cocktail party.

Warden Anne Bowden, accompanied by Jason and three male guards, approached the couple as they waited in the empty hallway. Without any pleasantries she informed them that they would have to be physically searched before being allowed into the death-house for a final visit with their daughter. Hearing the words “death-house” and “your daughter” and roll matter-of-factly off of the wardens tongue in the same sentence caused the sad-looking couple to glance down at the floor, dejected. They did not speak, but simply nodded their willingness to cooperate.

Two of the guards led Sara’s father into one doorway while the warden, Jason, and the third guard escorted Sara's mother into another. Behind the door was a booth, no bigger than a walk-in closet. As the four adults momentarily stood still in the uncomfortably small space, Jason watched as Anne Bowden and the woman silently held eye contact. His heart raced as he stood so close to the late middle-aged woman he could almost feel her breath. Without a word the warden walked around Sara’s mother and reached up to grasp the collar of her dress with her fingertips. Jason stared and watched the woman’s face turn anxious as she felt the warden’s fingers touch the back of her collar.

"I'm sorry ma'am” Anne Bowden whispered, “it’s standard procedure for all visitors of the condemned. We’re going to do a full search. If you refuse, the visit with your daughter will be canceled."

Jason's heart pounded as he watched the older woman’s face crumple. Tears welled in her eyes but she remained stoically silent. At that moment and Jason could see a resemblance of Sara in her face. He watched as the warden, standing behind her, used both hands to carefully unhook the tiny clasp on the woman's collar. Then using one hand to hold the collar, she squeezed the tiny zipper clasp and slowly drew it down to the woman's buttocks. The zipping sound seemed to shatter the uncomfortable silence of the tiny booth. At the sound of the zipper, Jason felt his cock swell with blood. It was soon so hard he was afraid Warden Bowden would notice. He hoped it wouldn’t drip against his underwear, causing a visible wet spot. Jason felt his face blush with embarrassment in front of the two mature women. Through all the tortures and punishments he had witnessed during his internship that year, he had never felt as sexually excited as he did at that moment. He had a hard-on that wouldn’t quit.

With the dress unzipped to the woman’s butt cheeks, Warden Bowden spread it so that it would fall off her shoulders. It hung up on her hips as it fell to the floor, exposing a modestly-cut, b-cup white bra. Anne bent down and gently tugged the dress over her hips. With the second tug it plopped to the floor, exposing the grandmother’s full-cut white panties and high, flesh colored hose.

“Jason” Warden Bowden requested in an almost whispering, uncharacteristically feminine voice, “Would you frisk her please.” She phrased it as an order, not a request. Upon hearing those words, Jason felt as if his cock would explode in the dead silence in the small strip-search booth. The young college intern nervously reached forward and lightly cupped his hand over the crotch of the woman’s panties and, very gently, slowly ran his finger tips over the crotch of her underpants. Jason could feel her curly pubes and puffy pussy lips through the thin cloth. He took a long, slow, deep breath as he stared in the woman’s eyes. His tactile sense helped him visualize her feminine lips and the soft, fine curls of her pubic mound. At that moment Jason heard the crisp snap of a bra strap is Warden Bowden, still standing close behind the woman, unhooked her bra. Tears welled in the 57-year-old eyes when the warden slipped the bra straps off her shoulders, baring small but remarkably firm tits with hard, erect nipples and swollen, bumpy areolas.

Jason slowly moved his hands upward and felt the woman's breasts. He continued to stare in her eyes as he gently squeezed the tits of this woman who was about the same age, or slightly older, than his own mother. His fingertips lightly twisted the erect of her nipples through the bra. Sara's mother reached to cover her breasts. At the moment she did the warden ordered her to raise her hands above her head. She reluctantly complied. As she did, and Bowden looked around her shoulder and Jason and ordered "The panties, Jason."

The young intern thought his cock would explode at hearing the words. He wondered how far the search of this Non-inmate, this visitor, would go. He knew that Warden Bowden was the supreme authority inside the walls of the facility, and her word was law.

Jason’s young hands then slid down and moved around the back of the woman's panties, sliding up over the cheeks. He slid his fingertips under the elastic waistband and then, crouching low, almost kneeling, slowly pull the woman's panties off her butt cheeks, then spread the waistband to clear her hips before taking them to her ankles. Warden Bowden immediately ordered the woman to step out of them. She complied one leg at a time, though now her tears were a soft, audible cry. As Jason pulled them away, he glanced up to see a thinning, grayish-red pubic bush. It was neatly trimmed except for the lips themselves, which were shaved clean from the top of the crack downward. Jason was so close he could kiss it.

Jason stood up and stepped back, as much as he could in the small booth anyway, as Warden Bowden pulled a pair of medical examining gloves on with a sharp snap which caused the woman to jump slightly at the sound. Her arms were still overhead as Jason gazed and wondered what was next. She was exactly twice his age, he thought, yet he wanted so badly to frisk her again, to feel her buttocks once more as he stared into her frightened eyes.

Without any emotion in her voice Warden Bowden ordered the woman to stand with her legs apart, slightly bent her knees, and bend over and touch the floor. At the command the woman began to sob aloud.

"It is this really necessary, Warden, especially in front of these young men?" she pleaded in a timid, tearful voice.

“I need them here for my own security, ma’am, now spread and touch your toes or I’ll have you ejected” Bowden replied as the woman reluctantly assumed a position not unlike the Center in an American football formation. Jason's loins ached to fuck the woman doggy style right then and there. "I need to do an internal examine on you ma'am, this is an extremely high security situation" Bowden added without a motion. Sara Stahler's mother only cried, but did not resist or protest, when the warden spread her pussy lips and began to examine the inside of her vagina with lightly lubricated gloves. Performed in front of two males, one who had just groped her tits and pussy, it was the ultimate humiliation. When she was finished the woman was ordered to dress, but not before her clothing itself was searched. The warden's final instructions to her were that her and her husband would see their daughter one at a time, for 10 minutes each, and she would go in first. She would not see her husband again until they both had finished with their visitation.

Sara heard small buzzer sound the moment before her mother stepped into the small, empty visitation room. Sara’s mother broke down and sobbed aloud at the totally humiliating and wrenchingly emotional display of her naked daughter spread eagled and suspended from chains. Sara felt ashamed too, but more so she felt set up for this by Warden Bowden. She now knew the visitation was only a final cruel hoax to extract one more dehumanizing emotion from her psyche.

Her mother, still crying, told Sara that she had been stripped search. Sara said nothing, but her silence spoke 1000 words of despair. Her mother saw the belt marks on Sara's bare thigh but said nothing. Seeing her daughter naked and humiliated was one thing, but knowing she had been repeatedly strapped with a belt was more than she could bare. She froze, unable to speak. Minutes passed in silence as Sara’s mother only wish she had never come. She knew it would be bad, but she never could have imagined this nightmare.

------------------------------------------------

Sara heard the buzzer and steel door latch turn. She hoped it was a guard bringing her a towel to cover herself as she had requested. She was shocked when father, alone, entered the visitation room. "No, no daddy, oh God Daddy I’m so sorry" Sara cried. Her father was equally shocked to find his daughter chained spread-eagle and completely naked, her body shaved and her beautiful, beautiful blonde hair clipped like a Marine. Sara could only hang her head and sob. As much as her father loved Sara and sympathized with her, his eyes were magnetically drawn to her bald, spread pussy. Sara, totally humiliated, could not look him in the eye. The shock and seeing his beautiful 33-year-old daughter completely naked and totally shaved bare of pubic hair stirred the deepest sexually emotions, emotions he had not felt in years. Sara's father could not help but stare his daughter’s tiny clit hood perching through from between her bald crack.

After a long silence he said "Sara, we only have a few more minutes, can I kiss you goodbye?"

Sara shook her head yes through her tears. Her father took his hands and gently place them around his daughter's neck and kissed her full on the lips. As he held her head Sara only shook with sobs at this, surely her last, final kiss in life. Then, somehow uncontrollably, her sixty-year-old father reached down and gently touched, with two fingers, the spread inner lips of her labia minora. Sara's eyes bulged but she said nothing, her heart beating heavy with shock. Her father then kissed her again on the mouth and began to gentle rub her clit. Her head pulling from the kiss she pleaded "No Daddy, Daddy please don't do this, please." She could smell alcohol on his breath.

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?"

Sara’s father kept silent, faking concern, all to well knowing that he was the biggest bastard. He remained silent, hanging his head he pleasured his mind with the image his daughter’s bald girl-lips spread before him, her hard tits against his chest as she moaned.

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.

Chapter 15 Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

Chapter 16 Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

by Jill Crokett

Sara’s pleadings fell intermittently silent due to her short, heaving gasps for breath as she hung upside down from her ankles, held slightly open by a narrow spreader bar. After her severe butt and tit strappings of about a hundred strokes each, the mom was momentarily left suspended from her ankles so that the gallery might observe her shaking and sobbing from the relentless public whipping she had just received. Karen and Bill Schnell stared as tears streamed down Mrs. Stahler’s inverted face, dripping off her forehead.

The naked 33-year-old was taken down from her ankle suspension by a half-dozen uniformed personnel and carried over to the device which looked like a doctor's examination table, except that it was a bit shorter and narrower, had no stirrups, and had been attached earlier to what looked like a hydraulic column rising from the concrete floor.

At the execution table the guards handed the still hysterically sobbing woman over to the four muscular, shaved headed executioners in leather pants.

“No, no, please, please just, just kill me, please don’t do this” she ranted in desperation. Sara’s pleadings echoed through the chamber as the silent executioners laid her back down against the edge of the black leather table so that her whipped butt was off the edge, then they began to check the tightness of the leather harnesses which had been previously securely to each of her ankles. The harnesses went from her mid calf down to and around her ankles. The men also added and tightly secured leather wrist restraints to each of her forearms.

The straps securely in place, the men let Sara sit up unrestrained for a moment on the edge of the table and face the gallery one last time. All eyes stared at the crew-cut-headed mom, anticipating her fate. Their was no sympathy as Sara Stahler tearily mouthed the words "please no, please no" repeatedly in a hopeless plea for mercy.

As if to mock Sara's call for leniency, Warden Anne Bowden stepped back into the spotlight and matter-of-factly announced "Mrs. Sara Stahler will now have her vagina removed without anesthesia." She then casually walked back into the darkness.

The four executioners lifted Sara by her arms and legs and laid her on her back on the short black table. She was positioned so that her buttocks hung completely off of the end. Her wrists were secured straight up over her head to a metal bracket which protruded from the head end of the execution bench. This positioning stretched her severely strap-marked tits almost flat. Leather straps were affixed to secure her shoulders firmly down to each upper corner of the bench. A belt from under the table was passed over her chest, just below her crushed nipples, and tightened down snugly. Once the young mother's upper body was completely restrained, an executioner attached a headrest to the bench and adjusted it, lifting Sara's head up from the table and forcing her to look down toward her legs.

A television camera on a moving overhead boom pulled focus on Sara's face. The image of the crying mom’s face was displayed for the witnesses on a huge, flat screen monitor which had been lowered from the darkness of the ceiling overhead. Karen Schnell glanced up and stared into the eyes of who she believed was her son’s killer, a killer she gleefully knew was about to be executed.

Two huge executioners each grabbed one of Sara's legs and adducted them up to her chest. They then spread her thighs wide open as the audience stared at the smooth feminine crack splayed before them. Once the men had stretched Sara's knees up and open as far as they could go, they began securely strapping each knee to the sides of the bench, near her underarms, using large leather cuffs. The bottoms of Sara's feet pointed up at the ceiling, but they would not stay there for long.

Sara, a trim, healthy, athletic woman groaned with the strain of her positioning as her executioners pulled her ankles up to each side of her head. The suspension harnesses which remained strapped to her ankles were clipped to the same metal attachment bracket where her wrists had been attached. The condemned housewife’s external reproductive organs were now completely on display, spread open and positioned fully off the end of the short bench.

An attractive prison nurse appeared in the floodlights holding something in her hand as she stepped up to the condemned's spread legs. The nurse roughly pushed a catheter into Sara's pee-hole. She groaned. While the nurse drained the last milliliters of Sara’s urine into a collection bag, another nurse attached blood pressure, pulse, and heart rhythm monitors to Sara's chest and arms. Her bladder drained, the nurse yanked the catheter out as the gallery watched Sara’s face flinch on the overhead monitor.

The huge overhead video image suddenly split into two, now showing Sara's face to one side of the screen and her shaved pussy to the other. The audience was now aware of the second television camera, which had been positioned to catch an angle between Sara's legs, offering witnesses a full view of the execution procedure. The worker bees finished, the beautiful blond mom was now ready to die a humiliating death before millions of wealthy home viewers.

Dr. Wexler stepped into the spotlights and began explaining in rather esoteric terms how Mrs. Stahler would suffer and die at his hand. He held up a small cordless device, which he explained was a laser scalpel. He explained that the procedure would be nearly bloodless because of the scalpel’s instant cauterizing effects. As Wexler continued to speak with his back to her, Sara could hear him slipping on what sounded like examination gloves, while an execution nurse wheeled in a cart of instruments and positioned them next to her splayed pelvis. Without a word being said, the nurse assisted Wexler in donning a surgical gown. The two seemed to take their time as the witnesses watched Sara’s tit-tortured chest heave rapidly up and down with deep anxious breaths.

Sara began to plead and cry “oh god no, no please, please” as Wexler turned and stepped up to her crotch. His nurse raised the hydraulic table slightly so that Sara’s pussy was readily accessible to the tall doctor’s hands. With her head was propped up on the head rest, Sara was forced to look down between her legs and watch as Wexler held up the scalpel and cruelly made eye contact with her.

Warden Anne Bowden once again stepped into the lights but said nothing. Dr. Wexler's nurse turned to her and said, in a slightly tense, embarrassed tone, “The condemned prisoner Sara Stahler is fully prepared to be put to death Warden Bowden.” Though she spoke in a normal voice, within the eerie silence of the execution chamber, most of the witnesses had heard her. Sara trembled as she wept.

Before addressing the gallery of witnesses, Warden Bowden took one last look at Sara, gazing at the extreme strapped-down positioning of the condemned, her ankles up over her shoulders, her pussy tightly spread wide open. Bowden glanced at the four executioners and nodded approvingly as if to say "good job", then piercing the silence, she spoke.

“Mrs. Sara Stahler, having been found guilty on multiple capital offenses including murder for profit and capital terrorism, you have been sentenced to suffer death by the surgical removal of your female reproductive organs, both internal and external, including the total removal of your vulva, clitoris, and entire internal vagina, without anesthesia, and with every attempt medically possible to keep you conscious and alive during the procedure. It is the order of the court that, following the evisceration of your pussy, your abdominal and chest cavity as will be opened and your vital internal organs removed for sale and transplantation.”

The gallery was a bit surprised at the Warden's unprofessional sounding use of the word “pussy" in her pronouncement, but the staff knew it was not a slip of the tongue, but rather an intended final jab at the condemned. They knew she often spoke in slang at executions, and those who had seen her oversee executions at the Men’s facility knew she was a legend there for the way she would say “your cock will be cut off” or “your balls will be sliced open before you are castrated” as she pronounced sentence before death. Employees mimicked her all the time over this.

"By the authority of the court, I order that this sentence shall be carried out at this time and place by Dr. Alan Wexler.”

With these words Warden Anne Bowden turned and left the floor to join the witnesses. Dr. Wexler held up a pair of surgical pliers and grasped the tip of Sara's clitoris and pulled it is far from her body as he could. She wailed and screamed he began to slowly pass a long hypodermic needle up through her clitoris. The gallery watched a close-up of the slow act of cruelty on the large wide overhead monitor. Once the hypodermic needle had been stuck up through her clit, Wexler took another wider, longer needle and slowly pushed it lengthwise deep into Sara's pee-hole and pushed it through to her G-spot as she flung her head sideways and screamed.

Wexler grasped Sara's clitoris again with the tiny pair of pliers and pulled as hard as he could, crushing it around the needle. Holding the clit out tight, he picked up a pair of chrome surgical scissors and began to snip away Sara's clitoris, snipping it off in slow, tiny pieces as Sara screamed. Once the external vestiges of her clitoris were gone, he took a glowing hot cauterizing instrument and burned the stub of her clit. As the tool sizzled against her most intimate tissue, Sara bucked and wailed, flailing against her restraints.

Wexler pulled out the G-spot needle and began to slowly, using medical pliers and tiny scissors, snip away at the small inner lips of Sara's pussy. He worked with meticulous precision, as if he were performing a circumcision. He then used the red-hot tool to burn the area around those tissues as well.

Taking the laser scalpel in hand, Dr. Wexler adjusted it so that the glowing blue blade of light was short, and would only cut about one centimeter deep. Then, horrifically, Wexler began cutting around Sara's anus, slowly making a circular incision around it. The screaming from Sara was deafening as the tool burned away her tender asshole. Attendants in the gallery handed out earplugs, but there were few takers. Once he was done burning her asshole, Wexler paused a moment to attempt eye contact with the flailing Mrs. Stahler and, with a cruel smile said "your pussy is next."

While Sara mindlessly bucked and flailed in a vain attempt to break free of her leather restraints, Alan Wexler used his laser knife to cut off her smooth pussy lips, very slowly, one at a time. For the witnesses watching the monitor, it wasn't pretty. A few felt ill and raised their hands for permission to be escorted out, but as Sara screamed and cried hysterically, Bill and Karen hung in there.

Sara frantically bucked against the leather restraints to the point of breaking her limbs as Dr. Wexler slowly, cruelly, removed her pussy lips. The essence of her feminine identity was literally being slowly snipped off as she was forced to watch.

Both Tracy and Diane collapsed to their knees in disbelief as they watched Sara’s unbelievable torture. The attractive mom bucked so wildly against her restraints it looked as though the straps would break. Few had experienced a sound coming from a human that was higher pitched or more ear piercing.

With Sara still fully conscious Wexler made a deep incision from the top of her pussy up to her belly button. As assistants standing to each side quickly open this flap of belly skin, Dr. Wexler went in and internally began to cut off the base of her vagina from the uterus at the cervix. That task completed, he returned to begin making a series of deep incisions around her pussy. As Sara wailed and screamed, Dr. Wexler then pulled her entire internal vagina out of her pelvis as if yanking a cork from wine bottle. Several in the audience wet themselves. Three fainted. The screaming was painful to the ears. The only real part that Sara could move was her head, and she slung it in every direction as she screamed.

The execution nurses quickly cauterized stray blood vessels on the screaming woman's open pelvis in order to stop bleeding. Wexler, after checking Sara's vital signs on a monitor, stepped on a button on the floor near the base of the table. Instantly the hydraulic pillar underneath the execution table moved and lifted the condemned into a vertical position, her feet still over her head, the hole of her former pussy dripping blood to the floor. Sara, still conscious and in agony, stared face-to-face with the gallery once again as she now hung strangely almost crucifixion-like before them.

The gallery watched as Wexler began to cut off Sara's small, spread-flat tits, first grabbing each one firmly below the crushed nipple with a pair of surgical pliers. Each breast was then slowly and completely cut off using the laser scalpel. There was little blood. Her pussy and tits cut away, Sara had now lost her scream, and Wexler could see she was losing consciousness.

The only sound in the gallery was the sobbing of Diane and her daughter Tracy, whom guards had forced to watch the procedure.

As blood trickled from her gaping crotch, Mrs. Stahler, barely alive, heaved her chest as she gurgled a faint moan. Wexler checked her blood pressure and pulse on the monitor and saw both were dropping fast. He turned to an execution technician and signaled that it was time to unstrap Sara and wheel her into the harvest room so that her vital organs could be removed while she was still alive. She was at a prime age for transplant harvest consideration, and Wexler knew her organs were valuable. Dr. Wexler, without saying a final parting word, walked off into the darkness to change his gloves and smock.

The staff hurried to move the pussy-less 33-year-old into the refrigerated harvest room where she would be hung from her ankles and soon gutted for transplantation, that is as soon as Wexler could finish with his other duties in the execution theater. Warden Bowden had ruled that organ harvest was a procedure that was beyond the realm of witnesses, even though some, like Jason, found the procedure of gutting a living human quite interesting. Still, the process was usually forbidden to the eyes of outsiders because it might possibly bring attention to the government’s lucrative organ sales program which brought in billions of dollars each year. The government feared that some might question whether executions were taking place simply to make valuable tissue available for harvest.

While Sara Stahler was unstrapped and taken down, some in the gallery had thought she had gotten off light. Had it ended too quickly? Should she have suffered longer? Couldn’t she have been whipped more before she was put to death? Others regretted paying so much for the privilege of seeing the attractive mom die. Still others, Bill and Karen included, sat impatiently, barely able to wait to see the next female taste the strap.

Technicians lifted Sara's unconscious body and placed it on a gurney. She was not given the final dignity of being covered with a white sheet. Sara was barely alive but unconscious when an orderly wheeled her from the execution chamber. The ankle harnesses had been left firmly buckled around her lower calves so that once in the cool, chilly harvest room, cables could be quickly hooked on to her ankles.

A machine sound whirled as Sara’s unconscious body was lifted feet first into the air, her arms dangling down, nearly touching the cool concrete floor beneath her. The unconscious housewife had felt her last whip. Soon she would be eviscerated like a piece of recently slaughtered livestock.

Back in the execution theater, the attention turned to Diane Howell. The warden stepped forward to reminded the witnesses that Diane had agreed to cooperate fully with her punitive punishments in exchange for leniency with regard to her daughter Tracy's method of execution. The warden clearly spelled out to Diane and the witnesses the terms of the agreement, and what the word "cooperate" implied. Warden Bowden explained that “cooperate” meant that Diane Howell would hold any position she was instructed.

"No restraints will be used to hold you in position, Mrs. Howell. If the guards are required to restrain you during your punitive punishments, or if any lack of cooperation is detected by me or my staff, my offer of leniency to your daughter will be withdrawn. Do you understand Mrs. Howell?"

Diane's generous feminine form straining to expand beneath the stretchy elastic of the one-piece swimsuit. Her huge captive tits jiggled slightly as she tearfully nodded “yes ma'am, warden.”

"Very good, Mrs. Howell, you will now face the witness gallery, remove your swimsuit, raise your hands straight above your head, and apologize to the witnesses for your crimes."

Facing the witnesses with her head down in shame, Diane tearfully slipped off the shoulder straps of her maternal-looking one-piece swimsuit, slowly pulling it down to her waist as her huge mellow-like tits plopped out from the stretchy fabric, releasing them downward. Her huge brown, slightly downward pointing nipples contrasted with the pale white skin of her pendulous breasts. Unseen to her, three large, black-as-coal muscular African men stepped into the lights behind Diane. All three were completely naked, and each appeared to be adorned with the colorful skin painting of an African warrior. Their embellished black skin glistened in the lights. Each had the hugest semi-erect cock Karen Schnell had ever seen.

Chapter 16 Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

Chapter 17 Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

from the pen of award winning S&M imaginist

Jill Crokett

author’s note: All names used in this story are fictitious, even the author’s nom de plume. Any names used of real persons is purely coincidental. Readers my contact Ms. Crokett at jcrokett@yahoo.com with their comments.

All eyes in the witness gallery stared at the huge tits of the now topless Diane Howell. Her elbows pointed out to each side as the forty-something woman reluctantly but obediently slid her one-piece bathing suit down past her waist to her wide hips. As hundreds of men and women in the gallery watched she then bent forward with her hands at her waist and tugged the dark blue elastic fabric over her hips and buttocks, pulling the swimsuit to her knees. Her pendulous breasts jiggled for the crowd as she bent forward, slightly bending her knees to pull the tight swimsuit down off her butt. From there Diane let it drop to her ankles.

Tears glistened down Diane’s cheeks and dripped onto her melons as she straightened up and slowly but obediently raised her arms above her head in the required surrender position. Diane had no idea what Warden Anne Bowden had in store for her, but she was committed to being as obedient and cooperative as possible in exchange for the leniency she hoped would be extended to her daughter. The thought of Tracy, her only child, being skinned alive before her eyes was more than she could bare.

Anne Bowden let an uncomfortable silence fill the execution auditorium before she spoke again, letting the men in the gallery linger their gaze on the melon tits and smooth girl-crack of Diane Howell as the condemned mom stood naked facing them. When she finally spoke, the female warden did not mince words.

"Mrs. Howell, you have been condemned in a court of law to receive severe corporal punishment, followed by death by live evisceration. To begin your corporal punishment, it is my decision that you are first going to be spanked on the bare buttocks with a paddle, then strapped across your buttocks, thighs, and labia with a short leather belt. During this punishment you will be ordered to assume a specific bodily position for your corporal strapping. Mrs. Howell, if you fail to hold this position as instructed, I will order these African tribesmen here to immediately skin your daughter Tracy alive, do you understand?"

Diane glanced at the three muscular, masculine forms, then turned back towards Bowden and nodded in compliance. As she nodded her response she began to sob quietly, fearing she would not be able to comply with the warden’s demands. Not wishing to cry aloud in front of her daughter, Diane attempted to suppress her sobbing, and as she did, her huge matronly breasts jiggled lightly as tears dripped down and splattered upon them. To the privileged members of the witness gallery, it was a sight of pure submission.

"After you receive the paddle and belt Mrs. Howell, you will be raped by these warrior tribesmen. You'll be instructed as to the positions you will assume during your rape, and if you don't comply proficiently, my offer of leniency for your daughter Tracy will be immediately rescinded. Do you understand?"

Once again Diane responded with only a nod as she continued to face the gallery naked, her swimsuit still around her ankles.

Bill Schnell couldn't help but feel a swelling in his crotch as he stared out from the gallery at Diane Howell in the spotlight, her arms raised, the tears coming down her cheeks, the bright lights shadowing the girl-like deep, dark crack of the mature mom’s bald pussy.

Drawing attention to a small red circle painted on the concrete floor of the gymnasium, Warden Bowden pointed and instructed Diane to stand inside. The circle was less than a meter in diameter. Keeping her arms up, Diane looked down and stepped out of the swimsuit, gently kicking it off her ankles. She obediently walked completely nude over to the circle and took her place in it, all the while keeping her arms raised.

The warden carefully and specifically instructed Diane to place her feet about a half meter apart, and then ordered her to bend over and grab her ankles, telling the woman to slightly bend her knees as she bent over and assumed “the paddle” position. Forty-something Diane Howell looked rather awkward assuming this position which reminded Bill of the “center” position on an American football team. The only difference was this center was an attractive middle-aged mom who was completely naked.

"Mrs. Howell" Warden Bowden announced, "if you step out of this circle more than once, or if you let go of your ankles more than once, my offer is rescinded in Tracy is skinned alive. There will be only one warning. Do you understand, Mrs. Howell?"

"Yes ma'am, I’ll obey warden, please, please don't do that her" Diane sobbed from her strange position as tears dripped down on the red spot. “Save your tears bitch, you’ll need them” the warden mumbled back to Diane under her breath.

As Diane gripped her ankles tightly, an execution assistant handed Warden Bowden a thick, smooth wooden paddle, longer and slightly wider than a ping-pong paddle.

“For the first ten stokes, with each stoke you will count aloud and thank me, do you understand Mrs. Howell?”

“Yes, ma’am” was Diane’s meek reply.

The first smack of the paddle was loud, and Diane recounted with “One, thank you ma’am.”

By the sixth Diane was crying aloud constantly, but did not step out or release her ankle grip. By ten her butt was beet red and she exclaimed “Ten!, aaahhhh, thaaannnk yooou maaaaam.”

After the tenth pop with the hardwood paddle Bowden announced the next ten strokes of the hardwood paddle would be rapid, with no counting.

“Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop” sounded off as the female warden let loose on Diane’s wide, bare bottom. The mom screeched aloud and her breasts danced as she bent forward and gripped her ankles, her bottom protruding behind her. At the 20^th stroke Diane pissed herself as a small yellow stream splattered on the floor. She then bend her knees and further squatted to the floor, but despite the burning of her butt cheeks, Diane hands continue to gripped her ankles. “No” she exclaimed, “No, no more, I, I can’t, AAAAAAAhhhhhh.” From her head forward position, Diane tears continued to splatter directly onto the concrete floor.

A female assistant stepped into the lights and handed Warden Bowden a narrow, short leather strap, exchanging it for the wooden paddle. To those few in the gallery who were familiar with prison punishment, it was immediately identifiable as the Canadian Strap, a 19th-century implement a punishment that had become infamous in that country's prison system. Less than a half meter long, the Canadian strap looked like a narrower, shorter version of a barber’s strop, consisting of only 13 or 14 inches of leather, the remaining five or so inches being its wooden handle. The 2 inch wide strap had a series of five or six small holes punched in it.

Though they had been amused by the female warden's administration of the paddle, several of the wives in the gallery were surprised to see Anne Bowden assume administration of Mrs. Howell's belt strapping herself. Little did they know that before she was promoted to Warden of the women's facility, Anne Bowden had whipped and strapped many a prisoner to tears as Assistant Warden of the male prison nearby. She had been infamously legendary at the men's facility where she had developed "the wet line", a procedure where she ball-strapped men with a belt as they exited the communal showers naked and dripping wet.

Upon being appointed Warden of the women's facility, Anne Bowden had raised the ante of creative cruelty by often having female convicted murderers receive a strapping of their shaved vulva before being put to death. The first execution she supervised after being appointed Warden there was that of two sisters, older women in their fifties, who had been convicted of poisoning their husbands in a scheme to obtain insurance money. Bowden had both the women stripped in front of the large gathering of employees. She then had them both strapped-down to execution tables with their ankles up behind their necks with their knees strapped open wide to each side of them. Then, in front of all her employees Bowden personally shaved each of the sisters’ bare one at a time, then proceeded to strap each woman's pussy with a belt 100 times. After she was finished she turned to the gallery and said "that's the way it's going to be done around here from now on," then turned and, as she walked out of the gallery, said " now hang them."

Anne Bowden laid the first crack of the cruel Canadian Strap squarely across Diane Howell's wide butt cheeks. Diane elicited a screech but held her ankles. Bowden came back with rapid fire strappings of the belt across Diane's butt, to the point where she again released her bladder. Diane screamed every imaginable exclamation but did not let go as the warden worked her red, blistering butt cheeks. Diane continued to bend forward, gripping her ankles with every ounce of energy. After about 25 strokes Warden Bowden moved slightly to adjust the angle of the strap. In a sheer act of cruelty she began working Diane's feminine crack with the strap, drawing a narrow leather belt up between her legs, squarely landing the narrow leather against the 44-year-old’s labia.

"No ma'am, please no, pleeeeasse” teary-eyed Diane pleaded. “No, no, I can take it anymore, not there, not my pussy, please" Diane screeched and sobbed in vain as the hundreds in the gallery stared in disbelief.

After about 40 strokes Bowden handed the Canadian Strap to an assistant, exchanging it for a short, four foot long bullwhip.

"No ma'am, please, I can not take that, not there, not my pussy warden, please, please have mercy on me."

Without hesitation Warden Bowden reached back with her arm and quickly snapped the lash of the bullwhip forward, slicing it up between Diane Howell's blistered red butt cheeks to cruelly whip her feminine crack. With that first loud snapping stroke of the whip, Diane fell to the floor, crumbling her form to stay within the red painted circle, but releasing her hands to grasp her lashed pussy as she fell. Anne Bowden stopped the whipping and let her lay crumbled on the floor for a moment, sobbed for gasps of breath as the witnesses stared in awe. In the background Tracy sobbed through tears "please no ma'am, please let my mother be, I will do anything you say, just please, please don’t whip her anymore, not there, not there."

"This is your first warning Mrs. Howell” Anne Bowden announced in a formal voice, adding cruelly, “you will only receive one more before we skin Tracy Howell alive."

Diane very slowly and reluctantly climbed back on her feet and re-assumed the position, her buttock slowly rising above the level of her head as she reluctantly reached down and again gripped her spread ankles. The warden stepped back, the whip still in hand, and with a nod signaled for one of the now fully erect African warriors to step forward. As he entered the spotlight the women of the audience were first given a full view of his massive erect dick. Without hesitation the naked, war-painted warrior aligned his cock with the sex of the bend over condemned woman and grasped her waist. As a naked, sobbing and distraught Tracy Howell watched, the muscular black rapist entered her mother deeply and completely with a single thrust of his pelvis.

In the gallery, Karen Schnell's pussy dripped as she watched the mature mom get raped in this standing doggie position. She thought of how it would feel if her own husband Bill’s cock penetrated her as she bent her knees slightly and I reached down and gripped her ankles. Her own pussy ached for a big hard cock, and for a brief moment she was actually jealous of Diane Howell.

Diane moaned aloud as the African’s long, huge black cock rapidly slammed over and over again against her cervix. The gallery could clearly hear the moist slapping sound of the warrior’s pelvis against Diane was blistered buttocks. Beyond humiliation, Diane Howell did not resist as each of the four Africans took their turned with her pussy. She obediently kept her knees apart and bent, and with her hair nearly touching the ground she stooped forward to firmly grip her ankles as the men grabbed her waist and slammed themselves deep inside her vagina.

Karen Schnell reached up with closed fingers to cover her opened mouth as a slight gasp went up from the gallery the very moment the fourth warrior took his position behind Diane. The fourth and last rapist had the hugest erect cock Karen, and surely many of the other witnesses, had ever seen. Diane Howell moaned aloud as the last, and most endowed, African warrior entered her from behind. At this point three other loads of cum had already lubricated Diane's now very sore pussy, but nonetheless it still was a very tight fit.

"No, it's too big, no, no, it's too big, your cock is too big, I can take it, I can take it" Diane squealed, eliciting a restrained rumbling chuckle from the audience of witnesses. Little did she know that from this point forward, this final rape would be the best thing that would happen her for the rest of her life.

Chapter 18 Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

from the pen of award winning S&M imaginist

Jill Crokett

The humiliating rapes over, Warden Bowden commanded “Mrs. Howell, you will now stand in the middle of the red circle with your arms raised high in the air.”

Diane straightened up and raised her hands high facing the gallery as the female warden cruelly snapped the short bullwhip against the smooth concrete behind her, causing the mature mom to shutter at the shrill whistle of the whip. Bowden ordered Diane to turn so that her backside was visible to the audience. As she slowly turned, Bill Schnell could see that Diane’s buttocks were already covered with blistering red stripes from the paddle and belt. Cum from her multiple rapes dripped from Diane’s vagina. As the witnesses stared at her wide, hippy, strap-marked buttocks, the camera pulled focus on Diane’s expression, revealing a close up of Diane’s tear-streaked face on the overhead monitor, magnifying it one hundred times for the gallery.

“Mrs. Howell, I will now proceed to bullwhip your buttocks and tits 40 times each. If at any time during this phase of your corporal punishment you bring your hands below the level of your shoulders, or you use your elbows to shield your tits from the whip, I will declare that you have defaulted a second time, and we will proceed with your daughter Tracy’s execution.”

“Ma’am, please, I don’t think I can take that much, please, please be reasonable with me” Diane humbly pleaded. There was no reply from Bowden.

Warden Bowden turned her head and gave a nod to an assistant, at which point two X-shaped black steel crosses were rolled into the center of the execution theater on wide gurneys. Technicians immediately lifted the relatively light weight aluminum crosses upright and proceeded bolted them to the floor after sliding their bases into wide, pre-drilled holes in the concrete floor. The crosses were positioned quite low to the floor, with the feet end nearly touching the concrete.

Snap! Diane moaned loudly as she twisted and flexed her knees, crouching to the floor as the short bullwhip found it's first mark across her already blistered buttocks. One, two, three, four , five times it found its mark as Diane cried aloud like a baby, screeching with each lash, followed by “aaaahhhhhh” and more tears. Over and over again the short whip found its mark, now drawing trickles of blood. With each crack of the whip Diane screamed out but stoically still kept fingers interlocked above her head as instructed. Rather than reflexively cover her bottom, Diane used her voice to react to the whip, screeching and pleading in vain with each lash as she squatted by bending her knees. As the whip landed over and over again on her bare butt she soon lost her voice, her face only gaining an expression of horror on the overhead monitor as her mouth opened wide as it gasped for air.

The 40 butt lashings complete, a distinct challenge was now placed before the 44-year-old mother when Warden Bowden ordered her to keep her elbows wide apart for her tit whipping. Warden Bowden ordered Mrs. Howell to stand sideways to the audience, giving the men in the gallery a silhouette view of her firm yet hanging breasts. Somewhat full-figured Diane was the owner of a voluptuous set of double D size cups, and the first crack across her fat tits caused her to scream fiercely. Bowden quickly whipped her breasts repeatedly, going back and forth with the tip of the short whip, strategically lashing across Diane’s nipples with precise cruelty. As the whip found her tits, Diane valiantly fought the impulse to cover her breasts as the whip marks crisscrossed each nipple, striping her tits with red lines.

37…,38…, 39…, 40; the tit-whipping finished, Diane shuttered and balled at the top of her lungs as she bent her knees in pain, but through it all, in an act of unbelievable love and stoic sacrifice for her daughter, she obediently kept her clasped hands atop her head. To the sadistic thrill of the men in the gallery, as the 44-year-old divorcee sobbed, her whip-marked tits jiggled to the manifestations of her unimaginable distress.

After a few minutes of inactivity passed, Warden Bowden gave Diane Howell her cruelest order yet. She ordered Diane to lay on the floor, on her back, within the red circle. She was then ordered to reach down and grasp her ankles and draw them up, spreading her knees wide apart as she pulled up her ankles. As her knees spread open to the sides of her chest, Diane’s pussy blossomed, fully exposing her already-strap-marked female sex.

Once Diane had obediently assumed this missionary-like position, the gallery was stunned to hear the warden announce "Mrs. Howell, I'm now going to lash your pussy 30 times with the bullwhip. If at any time during this whipping of your sex you move from the circle, or even close your legs, even just once, I will order that your daughter Tracy be skinned alive immediately."

"No ma'am, I don't think I can take it, please I can take it, not that" pleaded Diane from her position on the cold concrete floor, her legs obediently spread and lifted high as instructed. Her pleas fell on deaf ears.

With the first crack of the whip’s tip across Diane's pussy, a quick squirt of urine shot up several feet. Diane screeched and reflexively closed her legs for a moment, then obediently reopened them. The warden appeared not to notice the momentary infraction. The second stroke of the bullwhip can full and hard down between Diane’s pussy crack, and she reflexively closed her legs again. This time she held them closed, screaming "Dear god no, no, no, no, I can’t, I can’t, I can't, aaaaahhhhh.”

Without a word from the warden, two of the African warriors stepped forward and grabbed Tracy's arms, dragging her into the spotlight. The clean shaved, naked teen girl stared at the gallery in both horror and shame. First glancing toward her daughter, Diane Howell quickly composed herself, then scrambled to her feet and faced the warden, dropping to her knees and clasping her hands as if to pray, pleading through tears "No ma'am, no, please warden, please give me another chance, please, just one more, please, I promise."

Will petite teen Tracy be skinned alive by the proud African warriors? Will mature mom Diane be given a second chance to endure the cruel bullwhipping of her shaved pussy crack on behalf of leniency for her daughter Tracy? Is a last minute Presidential pardon in order? Will witnesses Bill and Karen Schnell make it through the witness process without coming in their pants? Are the other well-heeled paying witnesses getting their money’s worth? Tune in NEXT WEEK fans for a special Thanksgiving edition – Chapter 19 – of Jill Crockett’s Execution of the Terrorist Housewives. There just might be a surprising turn of events. Send Jill your comments to jcrokett@yahoo.com

Chapter 19 Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

from the pen of award winning S&M imaginist

Jill Crokett

Chapter 19

As soon as Diane dropped to her knees to plead to the warden to spare her daughter’s life, guards grabbed her by the shoulders, restraining her as they pulled the pleading naked mom back to her feet. With a nod from Warden Anne Bowden, a number of execution technicians carried two metal execution crosses out onto the lighted gymnasium floor and began erecting them vertically by sliding them upright into pre-drilled holes in the concrete floor. The crosses were not normal T-shaped crosses, but were custom built with a short, straight back piece at the middle. The upper half of the cross was an exaggerated V shape which held the arms out wide and up slightly, and was attached to the top of the short back section which rested on the condemned’s spine. At the bottom of the short back piece two leg sections came off wide to each side, forcing the victim’s legs to spread wide into the splits. The arms and legs sections of the execution crosses pulled nearly straight out to the sides and angled only slightly. Multiple restraint belts dangled from various points on the crosses.

As guards positioned Diane up against one of the crosses, the warden spoke.

"Mrs. Howell, you have failed the test required to grant leniency for your daughter Tracy. You will now be restrained and forced to witness her execution."

With those words guards lifted Diane slightly to align her back with the low mounted cross, then quickly spread her arms out, strapping them wide apart to the upper cross-piece. Diane’s feet were still resting on the floor as they strapped her wrists, elbows and shoulders nearly straight out and slightly upward from her body, firmly bracing her upper extremities against the narrow black steel of the official government execution cross. A restraint belt was then strapped around Diane's waist, securing her middle to the cross’s center piece.

From the top and bottom of the waist section, or steel center piece, the arms and legs of the cross spread out laterally in a squashed X-shape, with the legs of the cross pulling Diane’s thighs wide apart in opposing directions as the guards strapped them to it. The cross was mounted so low to the floor that only when her legs were spread open did her feet finally clear the floor by a half meter.

To accurately describe the crosses, it should be noted that the arm and leg sections were welded to a short, narrow, straight-up-and-down vertical section of steel which pressed against Diane’s spine from her waist up to her mid-shoulder blades. Once Diane’s legs were strapped spread open at the lower half of the cross, it was positioned so that it faced Tracy's cross but was also slightly angled toward the gallery as well.

Turning to the frightened teenager who was still in the arms of the Africans, Anne Bowden announced "Tracy, by order of the court you will now be put to death in front of your mother. You'll be strapped down to a modified cross with your legs fully open and outstretched. In this position the skin of your vulva, your feminine lips, and all the skin of your buttocks, will be skinned off without anesthetics. You will be first administered an injection of medication which will keep you alive and fully conscious during this procedure. At about the same time this procedure occurs, you will also have the skin of your nipples and breasts stripped off. Following the administration of these punishments, and while you are still fully conscious, you will be eviscerated alive in front of your mother.”

"No" Diane screamed at the top of her lungs, “No, no, please be reasonable, she’s only a girl, she’s just a teenager, just tell me what else you want from me, please I’ll do anything.” Securely strapped wide open to her black steel cross, Diane Howell’s only visible movement was with her head as she pleaded violently, though her huge tits did jiggle as she screamed and flailed her head. Bill Schnell couldn’t help but notice that, in contrast, Tracy's petit teen tits went completely flat as her arms were spread open to be strapped to her cross.

After her arms and waist were strapped securely to her cross, Tracy’s legs were lifted up from the floor and splayed wide apart in order to position them. Both Bill Schnell and Jason stared at the teenager’s pussy as it transitioned from a single dark vertical slit to a blossomed orchid as her thighs were opened and strapped to the lower half of the cross. Tracy's legs were spread so wide Bill could make out not only her clitoris, but he could see the thin inner lips separated from the fat ones too. Tracy’s legs were strapped open tight in a virtual split which completely exposed and positioned her smooth teen pussy for skinning.

Karen Schnell crossed her legs tightly at the site of the young girl’s vulnerability. Karen had to pee quite urgently but did not want to get up and miss anything at this critical point in the execution process. She had waited for months to see her son’s killers die, and she wasn't about to miss it because of a full bladder. Karen gripped her legs tightly together and hoped she could make it. Bill Schnell was excited at seeing a real live naked mother and daughter strapped ultra-spread-eagled in front of him. His dick swelled.

The mother-daughter display was so erotic that student intern Jason, who was observing from the back in the gallery, couldn't control himself any longer. His standing-hard-on dripped into his underwear to the point were he had to quietly excused himself and run, or should I say stagger, to the nearest men's room just down the hall. Once inside the stall Jason, almost shaking with excitement, nervously unzipped himself and, instantly upon stroking his cock, squirted a three-foot-long come-shot against the white ceramic wall.

Jason leaned against the stall wall and relieved himself of copious ejaculate, gently stroking the slick head of his male gland at it pumped out in quick squirts. organnearly . As he momentarily leaned against the tile porcelain tile exhausted from his intense orgasm, Jason thought he heard the sound of helicopters. Not a helicopter, but several. Maybe. He wondered if someone were playing a war movie video in the nearby employee lounge. Then “No” he thought, “this isn't a recording, there are real helicopters outside.”

For a moment he thought he would check out the noise, but then, he didn't want to miss seeing a 16-year-old girl have her bald pussy skinned alive. And he didn't know yet what they were going to do with Diane Howell, but the thought of seeing the big tit mature mom naked on a cross excited him much more than seeing some helicopters. As he made his way down the hall from the toilet Jason glimpsed out of one of the few windows in the building to see about a dozen military looking helicopters landing at the facility’s private government airstrip. Jason thought it was strange because he had only seen the airstrip used by jets in the past.

As Jason quietly reentered the witness gallery, the Warden was speaking.

"Tracy, before your are put to death today by live skinning, as a further punitive measure you'll now receive 50 strokes with the cane across your bottom, then a further 50 strokes of the leather strap to your pussy."

It was more than Diane Howell could endure. As she hung on her cross facing her daughter, her huge tits jiggled to her sobs. With her legs spread unbelievably wide, bits of rape cum dribbled from her shaved pussy.

As Jason took one of the few vacant seats in the back, Warden Bowden herself was handed a slim, long hardwood cane. As he sat down Jason's attention was suddenly drawn toward the shrill whistling noise of Ann Bowden's practice strokes. While the young college intern took his seat he kept his eyes focused on Bowden, who was now aligning her stance with Tracy, using the cane much like a golfer uses the driver to align her stroke, standing to one side and holding the cane out at an arm's-length across Tracy’s buttocks.

There was no counting as the cane came down fast and hard on Tracy's bare butt. Jason began to grow hard again as he heard the 16-year-old screech and howl at the top of her lungs as the cane made sharp red marks across both cheeks of her bottom. Ann Bowden cruelly lined up the cane so the strokes would touch both cheeks of Tracy's buttocks and also mark across her smooth shaved labia in the same stroke. Young Tracy flailed uncontrollably at the rapid fire caning. Diane only looked on and sobbed, her tears showering her mammoth tits.

20 strokes, 30 strokes, 40 strokes passed as the cane marked the young girl entirely across her bottom up and down from her waist to her knees. At about 35 strokes Tracy could not scream but was only gasping for breath. Warden Bowden dropped the cane to the floor at the 50th stroke and turned to accept a Canadian strap from a female assistant. She repositioned herself as she lifted to the strap to take the first hard stroke across the teenagers bare girl sex.

Inside the witness gallery no one had heard the helicopters outside. Any noise had been subdued by the screaming of a mother and daughter inside. It didn’t take long before Tracy’s near-Virgin pussy was raw from the flashing velocity of the short leather strap. Bowden rapid strap strokes quickly reached a count of 30, and at that point she rested her arm and gave the audience a chance to savor the stereo of sobs from the mother and daughter. Bowden had no idea that at that very moment the main corps of her perimeter security guards was being lined up outside the main gate and separated into groups of male and female. The guards, whose focus was on keeping people inside the prison, had been overcome just minutes earlier by heavily alarmed paramilitary operatives with automatic weapons. The officer of the watch at the prison main gate lay dead, and the guards were being stripped of their weapons and handcuffed.

In the gallery Bill Schnell’s dripping cock could not contain itself anymore. He whispered his wife that he was going to the restroom.

"I'll go with you too" Karen whispered back to him, her on the labia slick with juices and her bladder bursting as well. As the two quietly exited the back in the darkened gallery bleachers teenage Tracy was screaming cries of death as her wide opened clit received its 50th stroke of the strap.

As Bill Schnell pushed the men's room door open his wife looked both ways down the hall to see that no one was watching, then quietly slipped into the men's room behind him. Without saying a word Karen reached around Bills pants felt how rock hard he was through his pants. No words were exchanged as the husband and wife entered the handicapped toilet stall and closed the door as she unbuckled and unzipped him and dropped his pants. Karen knelt and sucked Bill into her mouth. It only took him a moment for his dripping slick cock to squirt load after load down Karen's swallowing throat. She hungrily milked every drop.

"I want you Bill, I want you to fuck me hard as soon as we get back to the hotel, please." Without answering Bill unsnapped Karen's black dress slacks and unzipped them, quickly sliding his hand underneath her panties. Finding her soaking wet Bill proceeded to strip is wife completely naked in the men's room stall, removing her slacks, panties, top, bra, everything. He then massaged her clit until she shivered with had a standing orgasm. As she was coming Bill whispered "Honey, when we get back to the hotel, I’m going to shave your pussy again and then going to spank you hard before I fuck you."

"Yes, yes I need that Bill" Karen breathed her reply.

In the execution chamber, at the count of 50 Anne Bowden stopped briefly with the belt, only to turn back and apply a dozen more cruel strokes to Tracy's pussy. Both mother and daughter sobbed and gasped for breath as they hung on the modified crosses with their arms and legs spread straight out to their sides.

As soon as the last stroke was rendered, female execution technicians began buckling extra restraints on Tracy, adding one each to the extreme upper thigh, and firmly retightening the waist strap.

Stepping away from the teenager girl and facing the gallery, Warden Anne Bowden announced "Condemned prisoner Tracy Howell will now be put to death by live skinning of her female sex, followed by slow evisceration. Her vital organs have already been auctioned and will momentarily be flown to the purchasing transplant center."

Diane Howell tried to scream as she stared at her daughter, but her weeping expression of horror was strangely silent. Tracy gasped enough breath to moan “Mamma.”

Chapter 20 Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

by Jill Crokett ©

author’s note: All names used in this story are fictitious, even the author’s nom de plume. Any names used of real persons is purely coincidental. Readers may contact Ms. Crokett at jcrokett@yahoo.com with their comments. All comments and suggestions are welcomed and appreciated, but Ms. Crokett regrets she is personally unable to respond to all e-mail.

Chapter 20

As she ordered the African warriors to begin 16-year-old Tracey Howell's execution, Warden Anne Bowden had no idea that at that moment a 250-man assault-team had already disembarked from several dozen helicopters at various points both inside and outside the Federal Women's Correction Facility at Elk Flat, Nevada. At that point the only ones aware of the Special Forces operation were three guards in the Main Gate entrance station, a number of guards in the towers, and several guards watching the video monitor screens in the security office.

"Is this some sort of military training operation?" Canadian born Guard of the Watch Capt. Allison Peddie asked a fellow guard as she stared at a half-dozen or so camouflaged soldiers who were jogging straight toward the Main Gate station house. Hair stood on the back of Captain Peddie's neck as she realized that each approaching soldier carried a small flat-black-colored Uzi-type automatic weapon. “Why are they so heavily armed?” she muttered to herself. Peddie was wholly unaware that at that same moment, right behind her station, another squad of helmeted, camouflaged soldiers was closing on her post from behind, having been quickly rappelled into a nearby interior prison courtyard from a hovering helicopter.

"I said I need to talk to Warden Bowden right now, goddamn it!" Peddie screamed into the guard house telephone as the soldiers demanded through the guard house’s bullet-proof window that she open the prison’s Main Gate, quickly adding "I don't care if she's in the middle of it execution, we have a situation here and I don't know what in hell is going on!"

Unable to reach Bowden immediately, Peddie quickly punched another phone line and asked to speak with Bowden’s administrative assistant, 32-year-old redhead Sheila Qualis. "What's going on here, Sheila?" the 37-year-old Peddie asked frantically, "Is some sort of training exercise scheduled for today that I haven’t been informed of?"

"Let me see here, Captain," Qualis replied in an irritatingly calm voice as she fumbled through some papers on Anne Bowden’s desk. Anxiously awaiting a reply, the crisply uniformed female Guard of the Watch stared through her bulletproof window in disbelief as a soldier began to use adhesive to attach a plastic explosive charge to the bolted steel door of her guard station. Not getting a quick reply from administrative assistant Qualis, Guard of the Watch Peddie clicked back to the other phone line and screamed "I need Warden Bowden on the phone NOW GODDAMN IT!"

Still not aware that a squad of intruders had already entered the prison yard behind her station, Capt. Peddie, still on the telephone, ordered the other two guards in the station with her to exit and surrender the post before the soldiers set off the charge. She had acted just in time. Still on the telephone waiting to speak with Anne Bowden, Allison Peddie watched in as the soldiers at gunpoint ordered her two male colleagues

to lay faced down in the sun baked Nevada dirt and place their hands behind their heads.

"Could someone PLEASE tell me what's going on here?" Capt. Peddie frantically screamed into the receiver as soon as she heard Anne Bowden’s voice. As she listened to the warden angrily inquire as to why she had been interrupted in the middle of a double execution, Peddie stared through the gate station window and watched her two uniformed guards get thoroughly frisked by war-paint-faced paramilitary troopers. While she attempted to appraise her boss of the situation, two soldiers entered the guard station. Staring at the barrel of an automatic weapon, Allison Peddie froze, dropped the telephone, and raised her arms in surrender.

-- -- -- --- --

Tracy screeched at the top of her lungs as one of the Africans approached her splayed girl sex holding a long straight-razor. Stepping directly between the crucified teen’s wide spread thighs, he raised the razor as he prepared to strip skin from the young girl’s strap-swollen vulva. A female execution technician, thinking the urgent phone call for the Warden might be a reprieve for the condemned, shouted to stop the proceedings. "No, stop, wait!” the technician cried out to counter the simultaneous screaming of crucified Diane Howell, who was still pleading "NO, NO, PLEASE NO" as she wept for her daughter’s life.

"STOP" Warden Bowden shouted at the African as the technician handed her a telephone. Embarrassed at the interruption of an execution in front of hundreds of high-paying witnesses, the sharply dressed female warden took the call with displayed frustration. The law required her to take such calls and stop all proceedings in the event of a possible reprieve, but it was extremely rare for such a call to come in the final minutes. Before she could say a word she recognized the screaming voice of one of her senior female guards. Immediately Anne Bowden knew was that something was going terribly wrong within the facility, and she needed to find out what it was.

"Ladies and gentlemen” Bowden announced, “I regret to inform you that the executions of Mrs. Howell and Miss Howell must be postponed for one hour. Please take this time to enjoy the refreshments we’ve provided the witness reception area, and we will notify you when we are ready to resume. I apologize for this unforeseen delay.” Bowden turned and quickly exited the spotlight, taking several employees in tow.

-- -- -- --- --

Capt. Allison Peddie had never had a chance to explain to Warden Bowden what was happening. With the barrel of a machinegun to her head, Allison Peddie announced over the intercom that all guards in the facility, including guards in the watchtowers and all those inside the facility, were to report to the Parade Grounds, the large courtyard used as an outdoor assembly area. Peddie repeated the message over the facility’s mobile radio channel.

-- -- -- --- --

Accompanied three employees who included a guard, an execution technician, and one of Dr. Wexler's nurses, Anne Bowden huffily made her way to the main guard station to appraise herself of the situation. Attempts to communicate with the station by both phone and radio had failed. As her heels hurriedly clicked down the institutional hallway, the warden wondered aloud "What in God’s good fuck is going on here?”

-- -- -- --- --

Within the facility there were varying levels of confusion as to what was actually happening outside with the guards. In the Warden’s office, as well as in the guards’ personnel office and video monitoring station, there was panic. In most other areas of the prison business continued to as usual, with the staff in those departments generally unaware that a serious level of security had been breeched. In the Juvenile Offender Program Department on the third-floor, no one had any clue that there had been a gross security disruption at the facility. There it was a typical Thursday, and a school student from another part of the country, convicted of a serious misdemeanor by the courts, was about to be spanked in front of his teacher and several of his classmates who had been selected as witnesses. One of the student’s parents was also in attendance as required by the juvenile court. The boy had been selected for the special program at the women's prison because of his repeat offenses.

Still totally unaware of the unrest which was going on in other parts of the facility, the three matronly, 50-ish women who were in charge of administering the Juvenile Offender's Program calmly walked the schoolboy into what looked like a sparsely furnished home family room. In the middle of the room was a large square upholstered foot stool. One of the women sat on the stool while the other late middle-aged woman in a housedress stood beside it. The boy was positioned in front of them and told to face a long floor-to-ceiling curtain at the other end of the room. As soon as the boy nervously complied, his arms at his side, the third older woman walked to the end of the room and slowly drew the tall curtains open, revealing a the other half of the room. There behind the curtain stood a small gallery of witnesses facing the boy. They included his mother, his teacher Mrs. Marlowe, and seven of his classmates - three boys and four girls – selected at random and ordered to be in attendance. All of the young students were neatly dressed.

As soon as the curtain was completely drawn open, the matron, seated behind the schoolboy, quietly ordered him to raise his arms above his head. Once he complied, she left him there to stand in silence for a full minute as the witnesses stared at him, contemplating his fate. Then, in a calm, maternal voice, the woman instructed the boy to apologize to his teacher. The boy nervously mumbled an apology to each woman, mentioning the attractive, thirty-something Mrs. Marlowe by name. The graying woman then instructed him to apologize to his mother. As he spoke words of regret to his 34-year-old mother, the matron calmly reached around his waist and unhurriedly unbuttoned his trousers.

As she unzipped his trousers, in a calm but clear voice the matron announced "Michael, because of your actions, Judge Katherine Blaine Mitchell has ordered you to be brought here today, undressed completely, and given a sound paddling over my lap in front of these witnesses.”

Michael remained facing the witnesses with his arms up high as his pants were slipped down off his hips, revealing white briefs. As if to taunt him, the matron, as she exposed his underwear to the witnesses, whispered “I’m going to bare you completely young man” adding “and if you don't cooperate, or do as you’re told, after the paddle you'll get a taste of my leather strap - right where a young man doesn't want it." As she spoke the matron pulled Michael’s pants all the way down to his ankles. As his pants came down several of the young female classmate-witnesses snickered.

Hearing the matron whisper her harsh words, Michael began to silently cry, not out of fear, but out of shame as his classmates watched tears of humiliation streak his cheeks. The matron slowly pulled his pants, shoes, and socks off each foot as one unit, stripping the boy down to his white brief underwear as another graying matron pulled his shirt straight up over his head.

Michael now stood facing his witnesses only in white briefs, his arms raised overhead. The matron left him to stand there for another full minute as she walked across the room to fetch her paddle. As she returned, Michael caught a glimpse of the smooth, slim wooden paddle. His lower lip quivered to his tears, but he remained silent.

His teacher and the four female classmates breathed heavy, and some cleared their throats, as the matron reseated herself behind Michael. Slipping her fingers under the elastic waistband of his underwear, the matron pulled the boy’s final scrap of modesty down to his ankles and ordered him to step out of them. When the shorts came down, the three schoolboy witnesses, being the only other males in the large room, blushed with him, palpably feeling Michael’s shame.

Now standing completely stripped, Mrs. Marlowe and the four girl witnesses got a clear glimpse of Michael’s circumcised penis and smooth sack before the matron turned him and placed him squarely across her lap, tugging his shoulders to bring his creamy buttocks cheeks to an apex. Totally humiliated, tears ran down Michael’s cheeks even before the first swat of the wooden paddle landed.

Michael was crying aloud by the time his twin-scooped white cheeks were about to receive the seventh stinging swat of the paddle from the buxom, heavyset matron, when the gallery suddenly looked up in surprise and confusion as four armed and helmeted soldiers, their faces panted with camouflage, burst into the room, ordering “FREEZE AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP!”

An officer amongst the intruders briskly ordered the five adult women in the room to line up against a wall. The eight classmates, still-naked Michael included, were ordered to do the same at the other end of the room, facing the women.

The combat-attired officer turned and asked the women “Who is in charge here?”

The attractive teacher and the graying fifty-ish matron both began to speak at once. Mrs. Marlowe, clearly shaken by the intrusion and concerned for their safety, began to explain that she was in charge of the students. Interrupting her, the woman who had been spanking Michael spoke up in a haughty voice, and said “I am in charge here and I’ll have you know I was in the middle of administering a boy’s correction. I demand to know what is going…”

Cutting her off in mid-sentence, the officer slapped the woman across the face so hard she fell to her knees crying. As she clasped her face with both hands, the officer grabbed her by her salt-and-pepper hair and dragged her by her knees into the center of the room, then pulled straight up on her hair, forcing the woman to stand.

Returning to the line up, the officer grabbed the attractive, business-suited Mrs. Marlowe similarly by the hair and walked the teacher forward and stood her next to the weeping matron, ordering both women to raise their arms.

-- -- -- --- --

Just before she exited the building onto the Parade Grounds, a squad of soldiers waiting in a side room, sprang upon Warden Bowden and her party, weapons drawn, as they made their way down the hallway. Wexler’s nurse shrieked at the sight of the leveled machineguns. Slowly raising her arms, Anne Bowden softly pleaded “Don’t shoot, please don’t shoot!” Through the corner of her eye she could see out the exit door at the end of the hallway onto the Parade Grounds, where she got a glimpse of her guards lined up and being strip-searched at gunpoint. “Something has gone terribly wrong” she thought as a soldier patted her down for concealed weapons.

-- -- -- --- --

Unaware of any disruption, Dr. Wexler and two female assistants were down in the Autopsy / Organ Harvest Room about to begin autopsies on several cadavers. Four unconscious women hung by their ankles in front of him, each positioned with her legs open as her hair and arms dangled lifelessly toward the floor. Wexler wanted to get this backlog out of the way to make room for Diane and Tracey Howell, soon to be his star cadavers, and he expected them both shortly.

Each of the four women in front of him had had her pussy shaved bare before her execution. A technician had aligned each of the lifeless bodies with a corresponding large steel drain in the white tile floor below them. All four showed signs of having had her buttocks, and in two cares her breasts also, strapped or whipped severely. Two of the women looked to be in their late twenties, both with dark hair and medium build with small breasts. A third woman, a redhead, was heavyset with big boobs which now dangled toward the floor. She looked to be in her mid to late thirties. Her white butt was repeatedly marked with the long lines of a bullwhip. Unaware that soldiers were frisking his boss at that very moment, Wexler decided to gut the redhead first.

“It’s a shame” he thought as he sliced the heavyset redhead from her chest to her pubis with a single long stoke of the laser knife, “She had such a nice pussy.” It would be Dr Wexler’s last pleasant thought for a long time.

Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

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