|Two for the Gallows|
|by Cynthia Harder|
|© Copyright 2007 - Cynthia Harder - Used by permission|
|Storycodes: M/fff; FF; bond; strangulation; public; nc; X|
|Two for the Gallows by Cynthia Harder M/fff; FF; bond; strangulation; public; nc; X|
(please note that this story does not contain a death scene)
Warden Jenkens sighed heavily, and once again consulted his watch. He thought this was a total waste of time, just a stalling tactic. But the judge had been positive: "Last requests should be honored, if its practicable. Theirs is. But take 'em to that boutique on Main Street -- that'll be close to the Public Square."
So here they were, himself, the Boutique owner, and the two -- convicts. He had to admit they didn't look much like condemned prisoners right now. The Boutique owner, an attractive, middle-aged woman, had done their makeup and hair. Cynthia, the bigger, more mature one, had gone for a flamboyant look: lots of eyeshadow and bright lipstick. Jacqui, the smaller, cuter one, had been more restrained. Still, the warden admitted, they both looked good. The Boutique owner had done their hair, also, but here the Warden had been firm: "Keep it off their necks." Cynthia had hers in a wild display of curls, while Jacqui had a flip that would not interfere with the noose at all.
Now they were going up and down the display racks, giggling like women on a wild shopping extravanganza. Both were in their underwear -- Jacqui in a pretty little bra and panties set, Cynthia in a black corset with garters and dark stockings. They alternated pulling garments off the racks, holding them up against their bodies as they looked in the mirror, then seizing on something else.
"That looks gorgeous on you!" exclaimed Jacqui as her friend held up a long black evening gown, the hem of which swept the floor.
"Nope," interjected the warden. "Nothin' floor length. We got to get to your ankles, er, later. Nothing high necked, either." The second comment was mean, and he knew it. It struck the two women like a cup of icy water in the face. Both looked startled, dismayed -- and scared. Cynthia replaced the long (and expensive) gown back on the hook, and turned distractedly to another rack.
Finally the two were dressed, Jacqui in a calf-length flowered skirt with a matching cowl-necked top and clunky round-toed pumps with thick high heels: Cynthia in a creamy satin off-white blouse and dark over-the-knee skirt, with high heeled black boots.
"Enough off the neck for you?" asked Jacqui sardonically as she touched the cowl neckline.
"Yes, Miss," said the Warden, "You both look very nice. Although you will have trouble mounting the steps in those heels," he added, meanly.
"Now Warden," purred Cynthia, "You wouldn't begrudge a girl a little more height -- to reach the ground from the end of the rope, now would you?" It was a show of bravado, the Warden knew, but cool, none the less.
"Now if there isn't anything else you need to do...?" He picked up two pieces of rope that had laid, waiting in a nearby table.
"Yes, there is," said Jacqui. Stepping up to Cynthia, she took the other woman's head in her hands and kissed her, firmly, full on the mouth. Her arms flew up, waved around a bit, then took the girl's arms in her hands. Before there could be any more funny business, the Warden stepped behind Cynthia. He drew her arms down and back, and proceeded to wrap the rope around her wrists, binding them tightly together. The woman's long pink fingernails dug into her palms, then flared as the knot was tightened. She twisted her hands briefly against the ropes, seeking either escape or a more comfortable position. Then he tied Jacqui's hands behind her back . Then he wrapped some more rope around Cynthia, binding her arms tightly to her body, adjusting each coil precisely. The ropes made her breasts more prominent, her waist seem narrower. A twist around her arms pinned her elbows well back.
"Once saw a girl get aholt of the rope, chin herself," he explained, not looking at the woman. He stepped over to the other prisoner, and tied up her torso similarly. As he did, he looked over at Cynthia, who was squirming within her bonds, watching him tie Jacqui. "Are you all right? Not too uncomfortable?"
"N--no, I'm as good as I can be," she said, a little breathlessly. The soft satiny fabric of her blouse shifted under the ropes as she took a deep breath.
A smothered noise caused Warden to turn back. The Boutique owner had seized Jacqui and was kissing her passionately! The girl, tightly tied, couldn't do anything to stop the woman from giving her deep kisses. "STOP THAT!" shouted the Warden, pulling the woman off the prisoner. "Now you aren't gonna interfere! You hear me?" The woman shook her head angrily.
"You shouldn’t do this! Do you hear? You can’t…" she said. Then: "Stop! Let me go!! "
"Do I have to take care of you, too?" With an exasperated snarl, the Warden found more rope. Shoving the fashionably dressed boutique owner over to the front of her shop, he wrestled her hands behind her back and tied them tightly together. Sitting her down in the window, he tied her ankles and legs, leaving her on display, bound prettily hand and foot where everyone leaving the big event could see her.
"I -- I can't bear to watch what's going to happen...", Nodding, he blindfolded her tear-filled eyes with a strip of black velvet, and left her, setting the little "come back at.." clock for an hour hence. Finally, he took both prisoners by their bound arms and headed for the Public Square.
A gallows had been erected in front of the courthouse. A platform five feet high, with a sturdy cross beam over it, from which depended two ropes. The rope was soft, satiny material -- another waste, thought the Warden, manila ought to be good enough for the likes of them -- but the Ladies Aid society had supplied them, and had even made the heavily-knotted nooses at the ends. The crowd surrounding the gallows parted grudgingly as the Warden led the two condemned through them to the steps. They closed in behind, watching the pretty derrieres of the bound women swung saucily beneath their tied hands
They stopped at the foot of the steps. The two women looked up at the nooses awaiting them. Then Cynthia straightened her bound shoulders and marched forthrightly up the steps, her high boot heels sounding off the planks. A moment later the smaller girl also climbed the stairs, to stand under her noose. The Warden climbed up after, stood beside them, and produced a paper.
"blah blah in trial at blah blah found guilty of blah blah Ms Cynthia H blah and Miss Jacqui blah blah condemned to hang by the neck blah blah." Then he knelt and tied both women's ankles firmly, but not so closely that they couldn't maintain their balance. Gathering their skirts up, he wound rope around their legs above the knee. His resolve flickered for a moment, when he stroked Cynthia's smooth booted calf -- only for an instant, but she glanced down and said, "Why Warden! If I'd known..."
While tying Jacqui's ankles, a run sprouted in her nylons. "Darn -- those were new, too," she sighed. As he slipped the noose over her head, the girl's eyes widened, and she gasped a little. Another small noise escaped her as he drew the thick knot up snugly around her neck. He first positioned it under the point of her jaw, for a clean break of her neck -- then he moved it back draping it over her shoulder. Cynthia, looking out over the crowd that had come to see her die, seemed barely to notice as he put the noose over her head -- but she closed her eyes for a moment as she felt the smooth texture of the rope caressing her throat.
At last, all was ready. The two condemned women stood in their new finery, their bodies bound, skirts gathered up and roped, their ankles above their high heel footwear tied together. They glanced at each other -- Jacqui looking scared, Cynthia being brave for her sake -- but the rope ends dangling from her bound legs vibrated slightly as her knees shook. Jacqui, trying not to, twisted her bound hands behind her back. Cynthia's tied-together high heeled boots shifted slightly as she maintained her balance on the wooden trap.
The Warden had stalled too long. The crowd was starting to mutter. "Pull the %&*# lever!" "Let the Bitches Fall!" "Do it, already!" They watched hungrily -- except for a small knot of men looking in the window of the boutique.
The time had come. Saddened by the disposal of two such beautiful examples of womanhood, the Warden reached for the lever. And pulled it.
With a heavy wooden 'Thunk!', the trap fell. The two women dropped straight down, snapping to a sudden deadly stop at the end of the ropes. Their heads twisted to the side by the thick knots of the nooses around their slender necks. The Warden watched grimly, hoping that their necks had broken and that the end had been swift.
Their necks hadn't broken. The two still-living girls danced at the end of the heavy ropes as the nooses strangled them slowly. Their red mouths gaped as they fought to breathe. Jacqui's arms had pulled to the side, and her bound hands fluttered as she tried to reach the rope choking her. The smooth leather of Cynthia's boots flexed as her legs kicked up, then strained down at the ground beneath her high heels. One of Jacqui's shoes came off as she flutter-kicked against the ropes binding her ankles. The two victims turned slowly, alternately showing their writhing arms and kicking heels, then their heaving, rope-bound breasts and gasping mouths, to the Warden and the crowd.
The minutes crawled past. The two hanged women’s' wild dancing became more and more feeble as the nooses choked the life from them. At last, the two bodies dangled limply, twitching spasmodically as they swung slowly from side to side, legs straight down, heads twisted to the side, bound arms limp under the ropes encircling their torsos. They would be dead in another minute, the Warden estimated.
Then -- why then? He heard a small splintery sound. This grew into a cracking noise, louder and louder. With a slow majesty, the entire gallows swayed to the side and collapsed, gently lowering the two hanging women to the ground and depositing the Warden somewhat more precipitously into a mud puddle. The warden looked up in surprise. The two bodies lay in the dirt, still bound. Jacqui lay on her back, the slack noose still around her neck, her flowered skirt rucked up to mid-thigh. Cynthia had landed partially on top of her, her head pillowed on the other woman’s breasts, in a parody of erotic bondage. They had to be dead, thought the warden. But then Jacqui’s chest bounced as she coughed, and Cynthia’s high heeled boots kicked upwards.
The crowd, those not sickened by the sight of two beautiful women being hanged, was running away. Two figures, however, dashed in the other direction. As the Warden lay there, they scooped up the two condemned and ran to a nearby alley. The warden, duty overcoming shock, finally levered himself up out of the mud puddle and started in pursuit. Before he reached the alley, a wagon barreled out of the space. As it swung away from him, the warden got a last look at his two prisoners. They sat up together in the back of the wagon, their still-bound legs sticking straight out. Someone had untied their arms, and they hugged each other, laughing, the bruises around their throats from the nooses vivid against their skin. They waved cheerfully at him, and his hand came up almost by reflex as they disappeared into a cloud of dust.
With a sigh, he turned around and walked back across the square to the dress shop. The pretty little boutique owner was still where he left her, sitting in her shop window like a display, blindfolded and bound neatly and tightly. Her head turned blindly as he stepped in, and she shrank back. He removed the soft velvet from her eyes. She blinked, and looked at him.
"Is it over? What—what happened?" She looked at him, then glanced out at the square at the ruins of the gallows. "What happened to you?"
The warden unbuckled his belt. "Darlin," he said, "I have had a day. I have had a day and a half. And," he continued, "With your kind permission, I’m going to do at least one thing that I will enjoy. Now, are you going to cooperate? Or should I keep you tied up?"
"Hmmm," she said, eyeing his chest as he removed his muddy vest and shirt, "I think – I think you’ll have to untie my legs. But you can keep my hands tied, if you don’t mind." She writhed sensuously within her bonds, her breasts prominent between the cords tightly encircling her torso. Flipping his shirt to one side, he reached out and cupped them, pinching the pebbly nipples. She giggled, pulling at the rope binding her.
"Bed?" he asked, kneeling to untie her ankles. He reached up under her skirt as the rope fell away. She extended her newly-freed foot, rubbing the toe of her gleaming shoe against the bulging crotch of his tight jeans.
"This way…" she replied, sashaying down the corridor. "I’ve always wanted to experience a polite rape…"
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