cruxlover
Tribune
This idea of Le Chat’s seems to fit with Eulalia’s favourite theme involving the IMF.
An execution facility, where those selected by the authorities, or choosing to do so, could go to be “processed”. Various alternative modes of death could be offered – hanging (as shown by Le Chat), impalement or (Eulalia’s choice I am sure) Crucifixion.
Perhaps the above shows Dorothy Brown, having been nominated by her husband as a special treat for her 40th birthday (sometime in the future I am sure).
Chapter the first Eulalia’s arrival at execution central.
Our story starts as Eulalia arrives at the IMF Execution Facility at the appointed time and date. After checking in, she strips and goes to present herself to the executioner in chief.
“My you’re early, we’ve only just opened. I’m Mr Beech, but please call me Robert, or Bob if you Like.”
“I know that I’m early, Bob, but I was so excited that I just woke up too early. My partner will be along later for the show, she wasn’t so worked up as me. This has always been my fantasy, even as a little girl.”
“In that case, I will have to give you are very best treatment. Nervous? Have a sip of this, it will calm you.”
“Just a bit, but mostly I am wild with excitement.” Sips, proffered hip flask. - “Islay single malt, excellent taste Mr Beech!”
“Now I just need to get you prepared, no need to rush, plenty of time to kill, if you pardon the expression.”
“Oh, Bob, please, please let me keep my knickers in around my hips, it helps me not to feel so nervous!”
“Certainly my dear, you’re to be crucified I see, no problem with the panties on the cross. The audience loves to see them ripped off later, when you are well nailed. I just need to get you to slip them down whilst I insert this butt plug, we don’t want any embarrassing and messy accidents after all. ”
“Oh, sir, it’s so kind of you to think of that. That has been my main worry ever since my sentence was passed. Piss Gives me no problem, the thought that I might shit myself, though – disgusting. What an unusual object that is though, and those strange markings, what do they mean?”
“We get these from Bolivia, they are dried and polished seeds from the largest of chayote fruits. The local Quechua women incise these marks, they are meant to bring a blessing from the gods on whoever wears the butt plug.”
“Oh that’s lovely, what are these called?”
“There is a Quechua word, but it’s almost unpronounceable. We call this a ”Tutti-Frutti Booty Butt Blocker” or “Triple Bee” for short. The locals use them, as I understand, in sex games or when they are afflicted with the condition –“As of the needle’s eye” – or so they call it.”
“But in that case Sir, they must, needs remove the plug, when it has served its purpose. There appears to be no means to do so, how is this effected?”
“When the “Triple B’s” arrive in our stores they have a strap attached through this hole near the broad end. We remove these straps and for sale as novelty wrist straps. Many young ladies like to have these on their purses or mobile phones as they are finely braided from multi-coloured cords and decorated with beads. They have become a must-have fashion accessory in certain quarters of late. The “Triple B’s” are cheap enough that we can regard them as disposable and after all they are completely bio-degradable. The money we pay is of great help to the Quechua women and girls, who would otherwise never be able to afford to purchase bras or knickers, leaving them at grave risk of unwelcome interference from any passing male.”
“That’s lovely!” exclaimed Eulalia, clapping her hands with joy. “I’m so happy that our deaths will be of benefit to the poor young women of that far-away country!”
Now if you just slip those knickers down and bend over the table, I will slip this “Triple Bee” right inside. Don’t want it coming out in a hurry now do we.”
“Oh, no Bob! That could be messy right enough. It’s so wonderful that you consider your victims kindly.”
“In Europe we respect or clients, as we like to say. Across the pond you wouldn’t get this consideration in the USA. I hear that my American counterpart, a certain Mr H. Tree, is a vile drunken brute! They do say that by now he would now be opening his second bottle of Seagrams whisky for the Day. He struts around, armed to the teeth, threatening passers-by with a powerful automatic weapon at the slightest provocation, or so the rumours say.”
“My, my, that’s unco deesparate, and it’s not yet 9 am beside. It’s a wonder he can do his job at all, with all that strong sprits. I bet he would nail me all wrong, but what does the “H” stand for?”
“They say that his mother named him Hubert, after a politician that she much admired, and he disliked the name so much that he crucified his own mother and little sister too. Ahhh - that slipped in nicely, and you are so wet. You must have been really looking forward to your demise.”
“Ohhhh, that’s so good, you’ve filled me back and front. Just, what I had hoped for! I am so grateful that I won’t have that Mr Tree to execute me today. To execute his own mother and sister – terrible - just terrible. I can scarce credit it – such perversity!”
“Well, you know how the press does so love to exaggerate – make a better story – still there must be some truth. The rumours are so prevalent. We have half an hour or so to spare we might as well enjoy ourselves. What do you say to a long slow fuck on your last day on Earth.”
“Nothing I want more! Ahhh, that’s fantastic, keep going slow and steady. Ahhhh!”
At last, Eulalia had come three times and Bob shot his load. Just in time for her to pull up her panties as the other condemned women were escorted in by Mr Beech’s assistant executioners.
“By the by, Ms Eulalia – how is it that you are to be crucified? I am intrigued to hear your story.”
“It seems, Sir, that the IMF took exception to my autobiography –“Fifty-two Shades of Pink” – subtitled “A year’s adventures of a young Scots lass and her naughty, naughty, plump rounded arse.” – Judge Judith said that it was the most depraved thing that she had ever been forced to study. She said that she had to read it right through no less than three times, to see whether it was really so delinquent as she imagined from the first reading.”
“Sound interesting, my dear.” Mused Mr Beech. “I must get a copy.”
“They have all been withdrawn from sale, but doubtless the IMF will have kept some for “academical study” as they would term it.”
