Turnabout For Kim

[Frank Petrexa]

I owe you folks something--I don't want to seem a parasite. This story came to me while reading Polly Plummer. I don't enjoy rape, so there isn't any. It's more about anticipation and psychology. I hope some people at least enjoy it. Peter Seller's line in "Being There" comes to mind: "I like to watch". Thanks.


Turnabout for Kim

Kim had been an executioner for six years, specializing in crucifixion. That was the only method her team employed. It wasn’t very enjoyable, but it paid well, and her team was pretty close-knit: five women and five men. The leader, Verna Eberhart, was a great boss, and took great care to see that the workers in this unpleasant but necessary occupation maintained their psychological health. In her apprentice year, Kim had only handled the basic labor: setting up the equipment, keeping records, taking photographs, cleaning up, and sometimes dealing with the corpses. When she had graduated to full-time status, she had to take a more active role in each crucifixion. She helped remove the condemned’s prison clothes (usually shorts, a brief, and a T-shirt, with a bra in addition for women), restrain them, tie them down, administer the palliative, hoist them (screaming) and the crossbar they were nailed to into position on the cross, and secure their legs while the lead executioner nailed their ankles to the post. During that first full-time year, she also trained in mock sessions where she practiced the art of nailing realistic dummies to a cross. There was a surprising amount of detail—one had to be careful in particular to place the nails in the wrists accurately to keep the prisoners from tearing loose once suspended, one had to worry about keeping the wounds benign enough so the prisoner would last for hours once the cross was erected.

Executions were public. The condemned’s family and friends were often hostile to the executioners, the crowd overall was usually raucous and excited. There was always a heavy police presence as a consequence. When the statute allowing this form of punishment had been enacted, it had two clothing options for men and three for women to mollify the concerns of the squeamish: men could wear a brief or nothing at all, while women could wear a (skimpy) bikini, only a bikini bottom, or nothing at all. This was up to the sentencing judge, based on the seriousness of the offense. Within a year, almost all prisoners were crucified stark naked, since only serious offenses carried such an extreme punishment anyway, and re-covering the prisoners after the public stripping was an extra step. Bodies were to remain on the cross for eight hours—if a prisoner hadn’t died by then, a lethal injection finished him or her off--and the corpses were then removed from public view and either turned over to families or cremated by the state. The state reserved the right to do medical evaluations (including autopsies) before disposal, to add to the general medical knowledge. For the eight hours, one member of the execution team was always at the site, and Kim had drawn her share of this duty.

The “lead executioner” nailed the condemned to the cross. Who would take the lead was decided on the spot for each criminal by drawing straws. Kim had been the lead 30 times in four years: 19 men and 11 women. She remembered every one. There was a sexual arousal component, both for the victim and the team. The bodies sweated and writhed under the hammer, chests heaving and muscles tensing, despite the palliative administered by mouth beforehand to dull the pain (the effect was mostly psychological). As professionals, the execution team kept their feelings in check, but the crowd had free reign. The agony on the cross was a real show, as the bodies glistening with sweat struggled to breath and writhed to try to alleviate the torture. This movement was the reason that the nails had to be placed well.

(over limit--more to come)

 

[Frank Petrexa]

I owe you folks something--I don't want to seem a parasite. This story came to me while reading Polly Plummer. I don't enjoy rape, so there isn't any. It's more about anticipation and psychology. I hope some people at least enjoy it. Peter Seller's line in "Being There" comes to mind: "I like to watch". Thanks.


Turnabout for Kim

Kim had been an executioner for six years, specializing in crucifixion. That was the only method her team employed. It wasn’t very enjoyable, but it paid well, and her team was pretty close-knit: five women and five men. The leader, Verna Eberhart, was a great boss, and took great care to see that the workers in this unpleasant but necessary occupation maintained their psychological health. In her apprentice year, Kim had only handled the basic labor: setting up the equipment, keeping records, taking photographs, cleaning up, and sometimes dealing with the corpses. When she had graduated to full-time status, she had to take a more active role in each crucifixion. She helped remove the condemned’s prison clothes (usually shorts, a brief, and a T-shirt, with a bra in addition for women), restrain them, tie them down, administer the palliative, hoist them (screaming) and the crossbar they were nailed to into position on the cross, and secure their legs while the lead executioner nailed their ankles to the post. During that first full-time year, she also trained in mock sessions where she practiced the art of nailing realistic dummies to a cross. There was a surprising amount of detail—one had to be careful in particular to place the nails in the wrists accurately to keep the prisoners from tearing loose once suspended, one had to worry about keeping the wounds benign enough so the prisoner would last for hours once the cross was erected.

Executions were public. The condemned’s family and friends were often hostile to the executioners, the crowd overall was usually raucous and excited. There was always a heavy police presence as a consequence. When the statute allowing this form of punishment had been enacted, it had two clothing options for men and three for women to mollify the concerns of the squeamish: men could wear a brief or nothing at all, while women could wear a (skimpy) bikini, only a bikini bottom, or nothing at all. This was up to the sentencing judge, based on the seriousness of the offense. Within a year, almost all prisoners were crucified stark naked, since only serious offenses carried such an extreme punishment anyway, and re-covering the prisoners after the public stripping was an extra step. Bodies were to remain on the cross for eight hours—if a prisoner hadn’t died by then, a lethal injection finished him or her off--and the corpses were then removed from public view and either turned over to families or cremated by the state. The state reserved the right to do medical evaluations (including autopsies) before disposal, to add to the general medical knowledge. For the eight hours, one member of the execution team was always at the site, and Kim had drawn her share of this duty.

The “lead executioner” nailed the condemned to the cross. Who would take the lead was decided on the spot for each criminal by drawing straws. Kim had been the lead 30 times in four years: 19 men and 11 women. She remembered every one. There was a sexual arousal component, both for the victim and the team. The bodies sweated and writhed under the hammer, chests heaving and muscles tensing, despite the palliative administered by mouth beforehand to dull the pain (the effect was mostly psychological). As professionals, the execution team kept their feelings in check, but the crowd had free reign. The agony on the cross was a real show, as the bodies glistening with sweat struggled to breath and writhed to try to alleviate the torture. This movement was the reason that the nails had to be placed well.

(over limit--more to come)

 

[Frank Petrexa]

Kim’s boyfriend had started to abuse drugs about a year ago, and on occasion would deal in them. When she found out, she tried to get him to stop, but did not go to the authorities. He ended up killing someone, and she had given him money to escape. But, he was caught. The trial was swift, and he implicated her. She was in jail, awaiting her own trial, and did not witness his crucifixion. The photographs and a little of the video had been shown to her during a visit from a team member since they were a public record which news agencies occasionally published—he had hung next to the madam of the brothel where the murder had occurred. She felt betrayed on many levels.

“Kim Ladonne, for the crime of abetting the escape of a drug dealer and murderer, shirking your duty as a corrections officer, I sentence you to be crucified in public, in the nude, one morning hence. The state cannot excuse or overlook your conduct.” The trial was over. Kim was taken back to her cell. She had one day to wait, and then she would undergo herself the sentence she herself had implemented for others so often. There was only one team, so her former colleagues would crucify her. It would be awkward to say the least both for her and for them.

She had not gotten much sleep the day before the execution, and was allowed only fluids to help clean out her bowels. She was awake before the sun was up. Verna and a guard appeared shortly thereafter. Verna asked her to cooperate to make things easier for both herself and the team. Kim nodded. She didn’t want any trouble. She had always had some curiosity about what it would feel like. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but she did have some morbid anticipation of the experience. And she knew that resistance was futile—the protocols were very effective in restraining prisoners.

A very agitated 20-year-old man and a stone-faced 40ish matron were in the van when she was strapped in. The signs over their heads indicated the crimes: the 20-year-old had committed multiple violent murders in the course of his drug-fueled career, the woman had poisoned her older lover for the insurance. The man wore a medallion with the number 1 on it, so he would go first. She knew this was done so he would not panic witnessing a prior crucifixion and would therefore be easier to control. Her medallion said 2. The matron would be last. Kim had seen many executions before, but she realized that having to watch two others meet her own ultimate fate would be additional punishment for the matron. Kim and the matron would remain restrained in the van until it was their turn, but there was a video feed and the van was open enough anyway that they could watch the event itself instead of the screen.

The van arrived at the crucifixion site, snaking through the large crowd, and halted behind the movable fence. The 20-year-old was hauled out by guards and stripped naked by the team. This usually quieted prisoners down. He was also told that the palliative would not be administered unless he cooperated. As a result, it was uneventful to tie him down so that he couldn’t resist during the crucifixion. He got his palliative, and was on the cross in short order, cursing and screaming from the moment the first nail went it. As she was led out of the van, Kim looked at him sweating, writhing, and yelling on the cross and admired the workmanship. He had an impressive erection, as most men, especially younger ones, did in this situation.

 

[Frank Petrexa]

Verna pointed out where Kim should stand for the official reading of the sentence. “You know the drill”, she said. Kim didn’t look at any of the other team members, and felt some sympathy for whichever of her friends would draw the short straw and would have to nail her to the cross. As Verna approached to do the stripping after the sentence was read, she said that she herself had assumed the lead position without a lottery, and that the palliative was extra strong for Kim’s sake. It would probably taste terrible, but Kim should drink it all. Kim was starting to feel more than a little nervous. In addition, she heard from the crowd the taunts of relatives of some of the people she had crucified. Her execution was underway, and they were going to savor every minute of it.

Verna pulled off Kim’s T-shirt, undid her bra strap, and pulled the bra over Kim’s head with its short-cropped hair. This was more than a little embarrassing because Kim knew her former teammates, male and female, were watching, and because her nipples were rock hard. Kim’s Velcro handcuffs were released for a moment to let her clothes slide to the ground, then re-secured. The erection of the guy on the cross got bigger, as Kim could see from the corner of her eye. Verna grabbed Kim’s shorts and brief and with one pull yanked both of them off. Ken stepped out of them naked, and walked with Verna toward the cross beam laid on the ground.

Verna spun Kim around to face the crowd, and told her to sit. The handcuffs were removed, and Kim spread her arms without hesitation when she was asked. Hands grabbed her outstretched arms from behind and pulled her back, shoving the beam under her shoulders. Someone grabbed her feet, lashed them together, and sat on them. Kim watched as two loops of rope were wound around each of her arms—one for each forearm and one for each bicep. The routine was being followed to the letter.

The scaffold consisted of series of square posts (the stipes—ten in all, so up to ten bodies could be crucified at once, although Kim had never seen that many) imbedded in the ground connected with a long, sturdy horizontal beam fitted to their tops through a series of snugly fitting cavities in the solid wood. Two long ropes with heavy hooks on one end had been draped over the horizontal beam on each side of the post nearest Kim’s patibulum which would serve as the stipes for Kim’s cross. A hook was slipped under each of the loops around Kim’s biceps between the loop and the top edge of the patibulum—they would be used to hoist her into position on the scaffold, and it would be very painful.

Verna took out a plastic bottle with a straw through the lid. Kim raised her head and sucked the liquid down. As Verna had said, the taste was appalling and Kim tried to swallow without using her tongue. Then, with a final gurgle, it was gone, and the straw was removed from Kim’s mouth. Kim let her head fall back and closed her eyes. No one spoke. She felt Verna’s expert fingers on her left wrist, and then a dull pressure on the soft spot they had found between the bones. Kim gritted her teeth and held her breath, waiting a little impatiently for Verna to just get on with it. She heard the clang as Verna brought the hammer down, and searing pain shot through her arm. Her eyes popped open, she let out a loud shriek, and felt her body twist and sweat start to ooze out. Verna was crucifying her. The faint hope that there would be a last-minute reprieve, that someone who knew her from work would pull strings on her behalf, was gone. She would be crucified and die on display like a common criminal. The palliative was a joke—the pain was almost unbearable.

Verna repeated the procedure on Kim’s right arm. When it was done, Kim lay panting, stomach sucked in and ribs visible. He body was bathed in sweat. She was moaning and shrieking uncontrollably. But she knew not to beg for mercy—the team was reluctantly doing its job and wasn’t happy about doing this to her. She also knew the worst was yet to come. No one said anything to her. The team worked like robots when doing their inhumane tasks. One couldn’t think about it much.

She heard movement behind her, and the sound of voices. She’d done before what they were about to do now. Two team members pulled the ropes taught and yanked in unison. They were usually pretty good at lifting the half-crucified prisoner into the air while keeping the patibulum level. She felt the patibulum lift and her back left the ground, dragging her legs and buttocks backward over the grassy dirt. She was screaming in pain as the nails in her hands absorbed all the forces lifting her into the air. Finally, her feet left the ground. Hands guided the patibulum into a slot in the pole of the scaffold that had been designated for her cross. As the patibulum slid into place, she heard the hammers and felt the vibrations as the team secured it by driving large carpentry nails through two robust L-brackets, one on each side of the square pole. Tears were streaming down her face. Her breasts were heaving and sweat was pouring out of her. The ropes helped support her arms, but the pressure on her wrists was still almost unbearable. Some people fainted at this stage and one team member always stood by with a pole tipped with a bag of smelling salts, but Kim remained conscious. The crowd was roaring, with cheers, cruel insults, and some curses from those who looked at her execution as payback for what she had done to others. The police guard and a movable fence kept the crowd in place. Her nipples were still erect. She had seen this in others. Crucifixion was sexually stimulating as well as painful. It embarrassed her. But, that was part of the “charm” as far as the authorities were concerned. Her curiosity about what it felt like was by now almost sated, however.

 

[Frank Petrexa]

Verna would have preferred to use the old method of nailing Kim’s feet, crossed one ankle over the other, to afford her former subordinate some modesty. But, procedures had been altered some time ago, and that method was only approved now for a prisoner who had been allowed to wear something. Kim’s feet were unbound and her legs were spread wide. Verna bent each leg in turn, forced the inner side of the ankle against the side of the post, and drove a spike through the outer side of the ankle into the wood. This was excruciating, since the spike penetrated the membrane over the bones with its sensitive nerves before transiting the bone and entering the wood. This method also fixed the body securely on the cross, no matter how violently the condemned writhed in pain. It also fully displayed the prisoner’s genitals.

It was done. Kim was crucified—there was no going back. Someone mounted a ladder behind her, removed the hooks, and let the ropes fall to the ground. A sign was driven into the ground on Kim’s right side, detailing her name and crime in large letters. Maria from the team took the official picture of the newly crucified Kim, while Verna filled in the paperwork on a clipboard after removing her rubber gloves and discarding them in the hazmat container. This digital photo would be added to the rotation in a moving display on the video screen on the wall across from the holding cells where prisoners sentenced to crucifixion spent their last day. It satisfied prisoners’ curiosity so they didn’t pester the guards with questions and added a nice touch of anticipation to the punishment. While awaiting execution Kim herself had reconnected with some of the crucifixions she had done while watching the images flash by slowly. Kim could imagine what the photo looked like—a women with a face contorted in pain, an inflated chest, breasts forced out, nipples still erect, stomach sucked in, ribs clearly visible, leg muscles contracted and pubic hair spread wide (Kim never did much barbering there) for anyone to see.

Before the team moved on to the matron and the last execution of the day, Verna approached Kim as she hung on her cross. Maria would be the executioner who would remain on duty when the team left. Kim could ask for water as often as she wished—they would even lace it with some painkillers. They would be certain that she would be on the cross no more than the requisite eight hours. They would treat her corpse with respect. Verna was a little choked up, and said that she was only doing her job. Kim nodded and tried to smile a little, although the pain made the effort a little grotesque and unconvincing.

Kim tried to settle in on the cross. She couldn’t avoid scanning the crowd, although she tried to ignore them. She watched the crucifixion of the “black widow”, admiring the skill of the team and comparing it to some of the work she herself had done in the past. The black widow was almost hysterical when she was taken out of the van, and they had to use two electric shocks to control her, once before the sentence was read and even once after she was naked. It was the black widow’s misfortune that Maria had drawn the short straw. Despite her age Maria had a knack for a smooth, deliberate, measured rhythm that was the mark of an expert torturer, arguably the team’s best, even better than Verna. Kim had tried to imitate her technique but had never quite mastered it. The black widow showed impressive strength in her writhing and screaming as Maria calmly, smoothly, but relentlessly nailed her fast, and the crowd loved it. Kim herself was still screaming often—the pain was not yet incorporated into her consciousness as part of her new normal. When the black widow was finally hanging screaming on the cross on Kim’s right, the team packed up to leave. They consciously avoided making eye contact with Kim. Kim watched the van drive off. Maria offered her water, which she accepted.

The day wore on, and the heat intensified. The black widow was quiet once she had come to terms with the pain, mostly keeping her eyes shut and her head bowed. Kim could understand how she had succeeded in her profession—she’d had a series of husbands, but only for the last had there been any hard evidence against her. Her breasts were large and well-shaped. Her body wasn’t skinny but it was well proportioned and frankly spectacular. The 20-year old murderer would alternately scream, rant, and make obscene comments to the women, with the restless agitation of an addict needing his fix. He was something of a hunk with muscular, athletic body, but they ignored him. Maria brought Kim water regularly, and he complained loudly about the favoritism. Maria ignored him too. The crowd heckled all three of the crucified mercilessly.

Kim had never understood the crowds at executions like this. After the crucifixion was completed and the first half hour or so had passed, the condemned on their crosses usually didn’t put on much of a show. But people still streamed by taking pictures, and more than a few lingered. Were they waiting for a fireworks display or something? They were expecting the proverbial signs from heaven?

 

[Frank Petrexa]

Verna would have preferred to use the old method of nailing Kim’s feet, crossed one ankle over the other, to afford her former subordinate some modesty. But, procedures had been altered some time ago, and that method was only approved now for a prisoner who had been allowed to wear something. Kim’s feet were unbound and her legs were spread wide. Verna bent each leg in turn, forced the inner side of the ankle against the side of the post, and drove a spike through the outer side of the ankle into the wood. This was excruciating, since the spike penetrated the membrane over the bones with its sensitive nerves before transiting the bone and entering the wood. This method also fixed the body securely on the cross, no matter how violently the condemned writhed in pain. It also fully displayed the prisoner’s genitals.

It was done. Kim was crucified—there was no going back. Someone mounted a ladder behind her, removed the hooks, and let the ropes fall to the ground. A sign was driven into the ground on Kim’s right side, detailing her name and crime in large letters. Maria from the team took the official picture of the newly crucified Kim, while Verna filled in the paperwork on a clipboard after removing her rubber gloves and discarding them in the hazmat container. This digital photo would be added to the rotation in a moving display on the video screen on the wall across from the holding cells where prisoners sentenced to crucifixion spent their last day. It satisfied prisoners’ curiosity so they didn’t pester the guards with questions and added a nice touch of anticipation to the punishment. While awaiting execution Kim herself had reconnected with some of the crucifixions she had done while watching the images flash by slowly. Kim could imagine what the photo looked like—a women with a face contorted in pain, an inflated chest, breasts forced out, nipples still erect, stomach sucked in, ribs clearly visible, leg muscles contracted and pubic hair spread wide (Kim never did much barbering there) for anyone to see.

Before the team moved on to the matron and the last execution of the day, Verna approached Kim as she hung on her cross. Maria would be the executioner who would remain on duty when the team left. Kim could ask for water as often as she wished—they would even lace it with some painkillers. They would be certain that she would be on the cross no more than the requisite eight hours. They would treat her corpse with respect. Verna was a little choked up, and said that she was only doing her job. Kim nodded and tried to smile a little, although the pain made the effort a little grotesque and unconvincing.

Kim tried to settle in on the cross. She couldn’t avoid scanning the crowd, although she tried to ignore them. She watched the crucifixion of the “black widow”, admiring the skill of the team and comparing it to some of the work she herself had done in the past. The black widow was almost hysterical when she was taken out of the van, and they had to use two electric shocks to control her, once before the sentence was read and even once after she was naked. It was the black widow’s misfortune that Maria had drawn the short straw. Despite her age Maria had a knack for a smooth, deliberate, measured rhythm that was the mark of an expert torturer, arguably the team’s best, even better than Verna. Kim had tried to imitate her technique but had never quite mastered it. The black widow showed impressive strength in her writhing and screaming as Maria calmly, smoothly, but relentlessly nailed her fast, and the crowd loved it. Kim herself was still screaming often—the pain was not yet incorporated into her consciousness as part of her new normal. When the black widow was finally hanging screaming on the cross on Kim’s right, the team packed up to leave. They consciously avoided making eye contact with Kim. Kim watched the van drive off. Maria offered her water, which she accepted.

The day wore on, and the heat intensified. The black widow was quiet once she had come to terms with the pain, mostly keeping her eyes shut and her head bowed. Kim could understand how she had succeeded in her profession—she’d had a series of husbands, but only for the last had there been any hard evidence against her. Her breasts were large and well-shaped. Her body wasn’t skinny but it was well proportioned and frankly spectacular. The 20-year old murderer would alternately scream, rant, and make obscene comments to the women, with the restless agitation of an addict needing his fix. He was something of a hunk with muscular, athletic body, but they ignored him. Maria brought Kim water regularly, and he complained loudly about the favoritism. Maria ignored him too. The crowd heckled all three of the crucified mercilessly.

Kim had never understood the crowds at executions like this. After the crucifixion was completed and the first half hour or so had passed, the condemned on their crosses usually didn’t put on much of a show. But people still streamed by taking pictures, and more than a few lingered. Were they waiting for a fireworks display or something? They were expecting the proverbial signs from heaven?

Sorry, screwed up. Here's the end:

Maria was attentive. She was a couple of years younger than Kim, and they were good friends. They had discussed crucifixion often in the past, and speculated about how it felt. Kim knew Maria was aroused seeing her friend on the cross, and would fantasize about it in spite of herself. That bothered Kim hardly at all, strangely. It would actually flatter her if Maria were to keep some photos of the event, since Kim had always been proud of the way she kept herself in shape. The crowd and the 20-year-old were much more annoying.

As the eight hour mark drew near, Kim was feverish, a little nauseated, and increasingly foggy. Breathing was becoming very shallow and difficult. The pain hadn’t diminished, but it was now more like very annoying background noise than the center of her diminishing attention. She knew it was almost over. The black widow was limp, her head hanging over her large, stretched out breasts, and was almost certainly dead. The 20-year old had looked dead for a while now too—the frenetic activity had drained the life out of him prematurely. There was no sign of an erection. Kim saw through watery eyes the pickup truck used for corpse disposal drive up. Maria was at Kim’s cross as soon as Kim’s 8 hours were up, said goodbye, and jabbed a syringe into Kim’s right thigh. Within a very few minutes, Kim was dead. The naked bodies were removed, photographed, tagged, and loaded into the bed of the truck for the trip to the morgue. The patibula would be removed later by the crew. Maria headed back to the office to report to Verna and deliver additional tapes, photographs, and documentation. It had been a very bad day for her, and for Verna as well.

 

[rb1956]

Sorry, screwed up. Here's the end:

Maria was attentive. She was a couple of years younger than Kim, and they were good friends. They had discussed crucifixion often in the past, and speculated about how it felt. Kim knew Maria was aroused seeing her friend on the cross, and would fantasize about it in spite of herself. That bothered Kim hardly at all, strangely. It would actually flatter her if Maria were to keep some photos of the event, since Kim had always been proud of the way she kept herself in shape. The crowd and the 20-year-old were much more annoying.

As the eight hour mark drew near, Kim was feverish, a little nauseated, and increasingly foggy. Breathing was becoming very shallow and difficult. The pain hadn’t diminished, but it was now more like very annoying background noise than the center of her diminishing attention. She knew it was almost over. The black widow was limp, her head hanging over her large, stretched out breasts, and was almost certainly dead. The 20-year old had looked dead for a while now too—the frenetic activity had drained the life out of him prematurely. There was no sign of an erection. Kim saw through watery eyes the pickup truck used for corpse disposal drive up. Maria was at Kim’s cross as soon as Kim’s 8 hours were up, said goodbye, and jabbed a syringe into Kim’s right thigh. Within a very few minutes, Kim was dead. The naked bodies were removed, photographed, tagged, and loaded into the bed of the truck for the trip to the morgue. The patibula would be removed later by the crew. Maria headed back to the office to report to Verna and deliver additional tapes, photographs, and documentation. It had been a very bad day for her, and for Verna as well.

very nicely written.

 

[old slave]

I owe you folks something

And you've delivered it, a very nice neat story from an unusual viewpoint.

Because she was desensitised by being an executioner, it's almost "another day at the office" for Kim, an interesting counterpoint to many of the "writhing in agony, no position is comfortable" accounts which are probably more true to life. And although she was sceptical, I bet that palliative was extra strong and helped her in the long eight hours.

 

[Jollyrei]

Very well done, Frank. The perspective of being crucified by the same people you used to work with, and especially a crucifixion team, is really interesting. What would it be like to have to execute a former colleague or friend in that manner?
A bad day "at the office", it seems.

And how hard is it to be the one with the hypodermic at the end, even knowing your friend will die anyway, but to have to deliver the final "mercy". "Bye, Kim."

Thanks for a good story.

 

[thehangingtree]

Very well done. If I may suggest posting one segment per day and you will get more 'views', 'likes', and comments. It was a very good story with an interesting concept but posting it all in one day sells you short!

Tree

 

[Frank Petrexa]

I'll attach some of my somewhat amateurish illustrations to this story. Just a pencil and a scanner, no software, so they aren't very polished. I may do another story but some of my ideas (liked oiled bodies) have already been suggested. I hope these appeal to people.

 

[Jollyrei]

I'll attach some of my somewhat amateurish illustrations to this story. Just a pencil and a scanner, no software, so they aren't very polished. I may do another story but some of my ideas (liked oiled bodies) have already been suggested. I hope these appeal to people.
View attachment 580254View attachment 580255View attachment 580256View attachment 580257

But we are all amateurs here, mostly. These are quite good. I like the expression on the face in the third one particularly. Keep going. I can barely draw at all.

 

[phlebas]

I'll attach some of my somewhat amateurish illustrations to this story. Just a pencil and a scanner, no software, so they aren't very polished. I may do another story but some of my ideas (liked oiled bodies) have already been suggested. I hope these appeal to people.
View attachment 580254View attachment 580255View attachment 580256View attachment 580257

I like them, strong subject matter and feeling.
It's a lot better than I can draw

The scans are a bit weak imho, I've made the lines a bit stronger in these ones

 

[Frank Petrexa]

I like them, strong subject matter and feeling.
It's a lot better than I can draw

The scans are a bit weak imho, I've made the lines a bit stronger in these ones

Thanks. Yeah, but my printer is my printer. I need to look around for ways to improve the contrast. I'm too cheap to buy a lot of software, and was always a command-line-UNIX type anyway.

 

[morten sigurdson]

Sorry, screwed up. Here's the end:

Maria was attentive. She was a couple of years younger than Kim, and they were good friends. They had discussed crucifixion often in the past, and speculated about how it felt. Kim knew Maria was aroused seeing her friend on the cross, and would fantasize about it in spite of herself. That bothered Kim hardly at all, strangely. It would actually flatter her if Maria were to keep some photos of the event, since Kim had always been proud of the way she kept herself in shape. The crowd and the 20-year-old were much more annoying.

As the eight hour mark drew near, Kim was feverish, a little nauseated, and increasingly foggy. Breathing was becoming very shallow and difficult. The pain hadn’t diminished, but it was now more like very annoying background noise than the center of her diminishing attention. She knew it was almost over. The black widow was limp, her head hanging over her large, stretched out breasts, and was almost certainly dead. The 20-year old had looked dead for a while now too—the frenetic activity had drained the life out of him prematurely. There was no sign of an erection. Kim saw through watery eyes the pickup truck used for corpse disposal drive up. Maria was at Kim’s cross as soon as Kim’s 8 hours were up, said goodbye, and jabbed a syringe into Kim’s right thigh. Within a very few minutes, Kim was dead. The naked bodies were removed, photographed, tagged, and loaded into the bed of the truck for the trip to the morgue. The patibula would be removed later by the crew. Maria headed back to the office to report to Verna and deliver additional tapes, photographs, and documentation. It had been a very bad day for her, and for Verna as well.

Very well written and interesting story.

 

[Frank Petrexa]

Some final images on this theme. Then time for a new story sometime.

 

[Barbaria1]

For some reason I missed this one back when it was posted.

Read it now.

Nice work!

 

[Madiosi]

For some reason I missed this one back when it was posted.

Read it now.

Nice work!

I also.

 

[boclhmtoc]

...Then time for a new story sometime...

I like your writing style. When the time comes to write another story...I would be very interested in reading it.

 

[spedoman]

Loved the story. Would love to hear more like these. Maybe more of the adventures of the team and others they have worked on.