Countess Dorothy Wellused from Cockshire, England travels across the channel on a nobleman’s frigate. She is worried about her sister Emma Grey who lives in Paris. She has not heard from her in quite some time.
She knows the peasants are in revolt and that the city is unsafe. Her attendants beg her not to go. But Dorothy is determined to find out what, if anything, has become of her dear Emma.
Once on French soil she is able to obtain a carriage as due her nobility. Again she is warned against traveling to the great city. There are hangings and beheadings taking place every day, victims from the aristocracy of which she is one. It means great danger if a woman of her nobility were to be captured. But Dorothy fears for her sister’s safety more than her own and cannot be dissuaded.
As she gets closer to Paris she begins to ponder what might happen if she were to be captured and sentenced to lose her head. Would there even be so much as a trial? Or would they simply have her beheaded right away?
Dorothy absentmindedly touches her neck as she gives the matter some thought. What would it feel like? Would it be quick? She’s heard the stories of the French Razor in use and how some of the bodies jerk and spasm in their death throes. She finds it strangely exciting to contemplate.
It takes a day and a half to travel from the coast, with a night stop in a small village. Countess Wellused is treated with respect, at least for now. But again she is warned to turn around and head back to England. Her safety cannot be guaranteed, certainly not within the city limits of Paris. If her sister has not written in some time, perhaps it is wiser to assume the worst and simply go back to England.
Dorothy will have none of that. She has to know for certain if Emma is alive or dead. So she gets up the next morning, pays handsomely for the hospitality of the Inn where she’s spent the night, and then continues on inside the carriage
As they near Paris they see smoke on the horizon from several fires. Her driver again pleads for her to turn back. But Countess Wellused will not be swayed.
She tells herself she wants to learn the fate of her sister. But is that the real reason for making such a dangerous trip? Once again she caresses her throat, wondering how it would feel being sliced by the French Razor. Is it ladylike to experience such wetness at the thought?
The driver pleads for a small concession. If she is determined to carry on, can they at least make an approach into the city on a less traveled road? What good will it do her to enter the city and be captured right away and executed before she learns of her sister’s fate? Countess Wellused agrees to the driver’s suggestion.
When they reach the outskirts of Paris they receive many ominous looks from the citizenry. Dorothy feels a shiver of dread mixed with a strange arousal. Is it true; would they seek her head if she falls into the wrong hands? Has her sister already suffered a similar fate? She writhes in her seat from shameful stirrings.
She gives the address to the driver, allowing him to use his discretion as to the best route to take to get there. But as they travel deeper into the city the looks from the peasantry grow more ominous. Dorothy begins to question the wisdom of learning of her sister’s fate only to face her own upon French soil. Why does this not frighten her as it should?
They are only a few blocks away from the address she seeks when several of the peasants get in their way, stopping the carriage. There are angry cries as a mob forms. The driver panics as he tries to make the horses run. But he’s violently pulled off his seat into the street.
The doors open and rough hands reach inside. Dorothy screams as she is pulled out of the carriage. Almost immediately there are cries of “NOBILITY – NOBILITY; OFF WITH HER HEAD!”
Her heart races as they drag her through the streets. She has no idea where they are taking her. Her only thought is she has taken a great risk and is now about to pay the ultimate price for her foolishness.
She is actually dragged past her sister’s dwelling, a building she recognizes. She tries to crane her neck for a better look, hoping for some sort of indication whether Emma is alive or dead. But she sees nothing that confirms or denies her fears. Has she made the trip in vain?
She is roughly taken down the street to what appears to be a large barracks. Hope begins to build she might be spared by the militia. But when they arrive she discovers it has already been taken over by the citizenry.
She’s hauled inside before a makeshift tribunal. The cries of “BEHEAD HER!” sound all around her. A man with white hair and a white beard who looks like he belongs out scavenging the streets for food rather than in a position of authority immediately pronounces her guilt and sentences her to death at sundown. The peasants all cheer before they scatter to the winds to alert their friends and neighbors of her impending execution.
Dorothy is taken down a long corridor where she is locked in a small room with a window. A moment later she hears a thunk outside followed by a loud cheer. She goes to the window and looks out to see a French Razor on a platform surrounded by a multitude of peasants.
Have those people been out there this whole time? Has the entire city gone mad?? The Countess shivers with dread as well as a perverse arousal.
As she looks out the window her breath catches in her throat as the head of a man is pulled out of a rectangular wicker basket, the neck dripping of blood. A moment later she feels faint. She also feels a horrific arousal.
The nude body is unstrapped from the bench. The corpse is rolled off the platform into a waiting cart below. It quietly thumps against something, causing the Countess to jump with a start.
Dorothy cannot see the interior of the cart. But a distinctly feminine arm dangles over the side. It tells her it is not just males who have been losing their heads out there.
The executioner – a man in plain pleasant attire – carelessly tosses the head into the cart to the cheers of the crowd. There are more cries for bloodshed. In a loud voice he declares the cart must be emptied before it can be refilled.
Dorothy shivers again as she leaves the window. She goes to a corner and crouches on a bed of straw. Apparently the condemned are not to be granted any comforts.
A strange calmness settles upon her. Save for a miracle, she is about to experience what it will feel like for the blade to kiss her neck. Soon she will have the answers to her many disturbing questions about the French Razor.
She hears the cart being taken away. The crowd outside begins to disperse. But there are cries for more beheadings, including “that filthy aristocrat in the red velvet dress”. Dorothy shivers when she realizes they are referring to her.
She has no idea why she feels so calm. She cannot understand why she is experiencing a growing dampness in her crotch. Why does this arouse her so?
Her thoughts return to her sister. The barracks are not far from Emma’s home. Has she already been scooped up and executed? Have they left her alone to go on about her business? Or has she fled the city and simply been unable to get word across the channel to her? It is her lack of knowledge about her sibling that distresses Countess Wellused the most.
She dozes off in the corner, the stress of the last few hours finally catching up to her. A couple hours later she is awakened to a crowd gathering outside. There are sadistic cheers along with cries of “BEHEAD HER – BEHEAD HER!”
Dorothy rises to her feet and goes back to the window for a look. Outside a woman in her twenties is being marched up the steps to the platform. Her hair looks strangely shorn.
She wears a flowing dress of green. Clearly it is too expensive to be found on the back of a peasant woman. It appears another of the bourgeoisie is about to be beheaded.
The poor thing catches sight of the bloody lunette and basket awaiting her head and starts to faint. The two men on either side of her help her up the last of the steps. She lets out a plaintive cry that is swallowed up by the lustful cheers of the peasants demanding her head.
Dorothy is shocked when the woman’s outfit is pulled off her body, revealing an expensive undergarment. The dress is tossed into the crowd to lusty cheers. Three peasant women fight over it until one grasps it triumphantly.
The undergarment is next to come off. That too is tossed into a delighted crowd. The poor thing is horrified to be fully exposed.
The cart suddenly rolls up. The peasants are forced to make room until it sits next to the elevated platform. Dorothy realizes when her time is come her corpse will not be taken away in a carriage or expensive hearse for a proper burial as it may have been back in England. She doesn’t even know what they are doing with the bodies.
The woman is laid upon the bench and slid forward until her head goes through the opening. She catches sight of the bloody wicker basket below and starts to wail as the lunette is brought down upon her neck. A moment later she loses her voice as her larynx spasms from her terror.
Dorothy watches in horrified fascination as the woman is strapped down – upper back, fleshy buttocks, and lower legs… with arms pinned to her sides. The cheers grow louder. Then one of the men pulls the lever.
The blade falls swiftly as the poor girl tries to scream again. Then it bottoms out with a loud thunk, her cries abruptly silenced. The head falls and disappears inside the wicker basket.
Blood spurts from the severed neck into the basket as the peasants roar their approval. Countess Wellused sees the naked body jerk and spasm. A moment later she realizes she has just wet herself.
The male who pulled the lever reaches down and pulls the head out by a handful of bloody hair, displaying it to one and all. Blood stains part of the face, obscuring formerly graceful features. There are lusty cheers as well as eager cries for more blood.
Dorothy gets a look at the horrified expression frozen on the face of the beheaded woman. The second man unstraps the still twitching naked corpse from the bench. The body is unceremoniously rolled off the bench onto the floor of the platform… and then rolled over the side to disappear into the waiting cart below. A moment later the head is carelessly thrown in which Dorothy hears land with a soft thud.
The Countess is horrified. She is also perversely aroused. It is hard for her to process the knowledge it will soon be her turn to ride the French Razor.
The crowd cheers as a male is brought out and taken up the steps. He has already been stripped of his belongings. He sports an erection dripping of cream which Dorothy cannot help staring at.
She is unable to look away as he reaches the top and is forced onto his stomach upon the bench. Dorothy’s heart beats fast as the straps are thrown across his body. He is tightly secured until he is left writhing helplessly.
The crowd roars for more blood. There are so many gathered outside to serve as eager witnesses to the spectacle. Then the blade falls.
The man’s head abruptly drops into the wicker basket as his severed neck pumps out his life’s blood. The loud thunk of the blade hitting bottom causes the Countess to jerk with a start. It is so horrific… so perversely erotic.
His head is pulled out of the wicker basket and displayed for all to see and cheer as his corpse jerks and spasms. His body is freed from the straps and rolled off the bench onto the platform and then into the waiting cart below. When his cock swings into view Dorothy sees it has ejaculated as bits of cream fly. Then the head is carelessly tossed into the cart to join his body along with the beheaded woman’s corpse
The Countess is mesmerized. She cannot look away as they are brought out one by one. Two more men are brought out, one naked and the other dressed. But his clothes are forcibly removed and tossed into the eager crowd before he is secured and loses his head.
A middle aged woman is brought out next. It looks like her hair has recently been shorn. She looks distressed, perhaps more for the loss of her hair than the fate that now awaits her.
The countess notices the woman’s erect nipples on her sagging mounds. No doubt an expensive undergarment was used to heft her breasts to enhance her beauty. Now she is jeered as she is forced down unceremoniously onto the bench.
No time is given for final words or even a prayer. The stained blade falls again and her head drops into the wicker. When it is retrieved there is a look of frozen shock, no doubt from the moment the blade kissed her neck. Dorothy wets herself again.
The crowd roars once more as the body is unstrapped and then unceremoniously rolled off the platform into the cart. The Countess gets a brief view of breasts and naked flesh as the corpse hitches and spasms. Then the crowd cheers as another male is brought out, this one a nobleman with greying hair.
At that moment there is a sound over by the door. It swings open and a male steps inside. Dorothy scans his frame and likes what she sees. Under different circumstances they might have spent a pleasant afternoon in the English countryside with a picnic basket and a frolic in the grass.
“Come,” he demands as he approaches her. Instinctively she speaks out.
“I am Countess Dorothy Wellused of Cockshire England. I have come to Paris seeking my sister.”
“They will enjoy witnessing the beheading of a Countess,” he says as he grabs her arm and pulls her out of the room. “Maybe I’ll behead you myself.”
“But I’m trying to find my sister–“
Her breath catches in her throat as he drags her down a hall where they enter another room with a chair and a table. Her captor throws her into the chair and then picks up a dagger from the table. Dorothy lets out a cry as her beautiful blonde locks are sliced off.
Her lovely yet expensive coiffure is crudely shorn from her head and tossed onto the table. With her hair shortened she feels the cool late afternoon air on her neck. It sets her to shivering when she realizes her neck will soon be experiencing more than just a late afternoon Paris breeze.
He demands she remove her garments. When she balks he roughly pulls the red velvet dress off her body as well as her undergarment, leaving her naked and trembling. “You have no rights here, Countess; don’t toy with me! I am the one with all the rights now!”
He lewdly gropes her full breasts, daring her to protest. Abruptly he bends her over the table. Dorothy hears movement behind her, the familiar sound of another garment coming loose. Then she feels fingers in her wet slit.
She whimpers in shame as he hisses into her ear, “I see the Countess is wet. You must be excited at your impending beheading. Or maybe’s it’s just that you’ve had so many men back in England. I guess one more won’t make a difference, will it?”
He brutally thrusts his cock into the folds of her wetness. Dorothy gasps at how rough he is. But she cannot help clenching. A release of pleasure is most needed after all she’s experienced thus far.
He grasps what’s left of her golden locks and forces her head down onto the table as he brutalizes her. She whimpers and cries out at a violation so shamefully wonderful. “You’re certainly an accommodating Countess; I’ll give you that. But you’ll get no mercy from me or the crowd outside.”
She lets out a cry of pleasure as he rapes her. She is almost there, but he cums too quickly. He fills her with his seed and then pulls out moments before she can experience pleasure for herself.
He loops her garments over his arm and grabs the bulk of her shorn golden locks. “These will fetch a handsome bounty for some poor peasant you aristocrats have abused.” Then he grabs her arm and marches her out the door, her slit dripping his seed.
They go down a different hall to a door. Then they are outside on the edge of the crowd. On the platform the blade drops, causing Countess Wellused to jerk when she sees a naked body start to hitch and spasm all secured to the bench. The crowd again roars its approval.
The head is pulled out of the basket, another woman of noble birth. Her naked corpse is released from the bench and then rolled off the platform down into the cart. Dorothy observes how the dead woman once had great beauty.
“Let us through!” her captor demands as they begin pushing through the crowd. “I’ve got another one!” Dorothy realizes the daylight has started to fade. It is sundown; she is right on schedule.
Members of the crowd around her catch sight of the red velvet dress. The man begins to holler, “I HAVE A COUNTESS HERE! LET US THROUGH; I HAVE A COUNTESS HERE!” Those around them begin to chant for her beheading, the rest of the crowd picking up the cry.
Dorothy feels humiliated at her nakedness. The seed of her recent coupling drips shamefully out of her slit and slithers down her legs. She is certain everyone in attendance knows what has recently transpired between her and her escort.
The peasants part, allowing them to reach the steps. A male descends to help escort her up to the platform. The crowd cheers her impending doom before they start to chant for the two men to behead the Countess.
When she sees the bloody wicker basket Dorothy’s legs nearly give out as they near the top of the platform. The men on either side grasp on tightly so as not to lose her. They don’t want this one to break her neck, not when it is destined to be kissed by the blade.
The Countess sees the blood-stained lunette. She looks up and catches sight of the dripping blade. She gasps and whimpers as she clenches her thighs together. At that moment she shamefully wets herself, much to the cheers and jeers of the peasantry.
The man who abused and disrobed her turns her around to face the gathered multitude. “I PRESENT TO YOU COUNTESS DOROTHY WELLUSED!” Then he tosses the red velvet dress, the undergarment, and the shorn hair into the crowd which are all fought over. The remaining spectators cheer before they cry out for her beheading.
The two men march her over to the bench. Before she is forced onto her stomach, her rapist enjoys one last grope. “Too bad, Countess. I would have enjoyed taking you again and again.” Then he laughs as she is forced face down onto the bench.
She whimpers as she is slid forward through the bottom of the lunette on the wooden structure. She is given a clear view of the bloody basket below where her head will soon land. She inhales sharply as the top half of the lunette comes down.
Instinctively she clenches her thighs together. She is unable to prevent another small flow of urine from her erotic terror. She is so very close to experiencing a shameful orgasm.
They are just strapping her down when she distinguishes a cry separate from the others. There is a commotion in the crowd; a woman is trying to push her way through. Despite the chants and cries she can just make out, “NOOO! THAT’S MY SISTER; THAT’S MY SISTER!”
She catches sight of Emma trying to push closer as though to save her. She is in a simple peasant dress, her former flowing strands cut short. It appears as though she is trying to blend in with the peasantry.
Dorothy blushes with shame the way her sister can see her like this. She grunts as the last of the straps are tightly secured. The loud chants of “OFF WITH HER HEAD!” drown out her sister’s horrified cries.
She shakes her head as she tries to warn her, mentally crying out, “No, Emma; go back – go back! Don’t associate yourself with me!” Then she hears her rapist declare, “BEHOLD THE COUNTESS!”
The crowd hollers back “OFF WITH HER HEAD!” Dorothy winces with anticipation. Then it swells within her. She’s about to have the biggest orgasm of her life.
It is just starting to crest when the French Razor vibrates. A moment later the sensations below her neck abruptly cease as a sharp pain slices all the way through her quivering throat. Dorothy feels a sensation of falling… tumbling until her face is pushed up against something.
A flow of something warm hits the back of her head. Off in the distance it sounds like a crowd is roaring. Then she feels light as a feather as she is brought up into the fading light of day for all to behold.
The crowd cheers from its bloodlust. She catches sight of her sister with her head buried in her hands as though she is sobbing. A moment later she is horrified to see three male peasants grasp onto Emma’s arms and start to strong-arm her forward.
Dorothy’s head is swung around until she sees the other male releasing her hitching, jerking corpse from the straps. She is freed and her body is rolled off the bench. There’s a distinct stain in the wood where her bladder released, hers and many others.
She sees how wet her slit is and the seed of her rapist still slithering down her legs. She has a moment to admire her proud breasts and erect nipples. How many males have suckled on those nipples back in England? Then her naked corpse is unceremoniously rolled off the platform into the waiting cart below
She can see all the naked bodies now as hers lands on that last beheaded female. Then she feels airborne as her head is tossed. She lands near the semi-erect penis of a recently beheaded male. But her vision is failing and she cannot reach him with her mouth.
She suddenly finds herself looking down on the scene from above. But how can this be? Isn’t she supposed to be dead??
She’s horrified to see her sister being dragged up onto the platform, writhing and screaming as the crowd hollers for her head just because she’s the sister. Dorothy watches as Emma’s peasant dress is ripped off and thrown to the appreciative crowd. Underneath, the expensive undergarment betrays her status. It is ripped off as well as the crowd hollers for her head.
Emma is forced face down upon the bench where her sister perished mere moments ago. She is strapped down as the lunette is brought down onto her neck. The crowd lets out a lustful cry to behead her.
Dorothy’s rapist, still up on the platform, gleefully grabs the lever. He only pauses a moment. Then the blade whooshes down with a loud thunk, and Emma’s head falls away.
It must be Dorothy’s punishment. Somehow she’s been condemned to watch the beheading of her sister. Then the Countess feels herself fading away.
Mercifully she is not allowed to witness the executioner lift up her sister’s head for all to see as the crowd roars its approval. She does not observe the twitching, spasming body being unstrapped and then rolled off the platform into the cart below, landing askew on top of her own corpse. She does not see her sister’s lovely head fly through the air until it bounces unceremoniously into the cart.
It’s probably for the best…
2018 (written for Dorothy Oct 25 ’18 by riwa. Inspired by a langewapper idea.)