THE ISLAND OF CONSENSUAL EXECUTIONS
The Peace Treaty
By riwa
Author’s note: This is written by request for Arachnid with his permission and with him previewing the material, being as how it is his original idea.
An impoverished Caribbean island nation nears bankruptcy. In order to raise cash income from “tourists”, the nation’s leaders in desperation pass a law — consensual executions of sane and un-coerced foreigners by other foreigners will be legal in public execution areas on the island. (Original idea for the Island of Consensual Executions created by Arachnid.)
8 Busy Gallows
I do not see my parents during the lunch hour. But I do get to share my meal with the remainder of my family. My youngest brother Bortan tries to make light of the situation with jokes. It helps to lighten the mood.
I quietly ask Dontel and Martine if there is anything more I can do for them. They tell me to let their young children know they have gone away on a long trip and will not be back for a very long time. “When they are older and can be made to understand then you can more fully explain to them what happened,” my sister-in-law says with a sniffle. Tears well up in my eyes as I give her a fierce embrace.
There is very little time granted to me after lunch. Gabrielle goes off to meet with the hotel concierge to sign off on the executions. I simply cannot stand by to witness my family signing their death warrants. So I go for a short walk along the beach.
I gaze longingly across the water, finding myself thinking of home and of days gone by. Precious family memories flood my mind, bringing tears to my eyes. But I am to marry Prince Osman. That’s when it occurs me I will probably never see my homeland again.
When I return I notice that a crowd has gathered over by the gallows. Gabrielle is already there waiting for me as are my family members. Each one to be hung stands with hands already secured behind their backs.
Prince Osman is there with his best man and his entourage of both victims and voyeurs. He glares at me as though this is somehow my fault. I look back at him in disgust. I may have been somewhat intrigued with his power and presence during the beheadings. But now I am filled with revulsion.
Naturally the camera is there recording the event. But this time a male stands behind the equipment. Perhaps the female who was there before has grown weary of witnessing execution after execution and has excused herself. I know I am certainly growing weary of it all.
“Who will begin the proceedings?” the guard at the base of the steps asks formally. There is only one trap, meaning this will take twice as long.
“I will go first!” Prince Osman declares. He gives me an angry glare as he marches a young woman in a short dress up the steps. With her arms bound behind her back he has to be careful to steady her as she goes up to her death on wobbly legs.
There is no announcement like there was this morning… no person of supposed importance pontificating before an audience. Perhaps all the relevant individuals are off to their meetings, trying to finalize the Peace Accord. These will be nothing more than simple executions – a different war of sorts with no bullets, only a noose making corpses out of the doomed citizens of two warring countries.
I watch as he moves the young woman on top of the trap. Then he proceeds to put straps around her ankles and knees. When I hear him ask if she wants a hood she nods. Clearly she is anxious over what is about to happen to her.
He pulls a white hood down over her head before looping the noose around her throat. He cinches it snug around her neck. Then he steps back to the lever, pauses… and then pulls it…
THWAP! CRACK!
I jerk with a start as I hear her neck break. Her body jerks and twists at the end of the rope until she is still. Then two men in military garb come up to her. They confirm she is dead before taking her down. The guard then motions to me that I am next.
I swallow a lump down my throat as I escort a bound female Capree citizen in a very nice dress up the steps. I am careful to make sure she does not trip and fall. It would be ironic if not dishonorable were she to break her neck before hanging. Thankfully our short trip together up the steps is uneventful.
I strap her ankles and knees together and then quietly offer her a hood. “No thank you, little one,” she says nobly. I almost tear up at her use of the term of endearment.
She declares, “I will hang bravely, a proud citizen of Capree.” Her voice is trembling; she is clearly unnerved. My hands are shaking, my heart beating fast.
“You honor me and our country,” I murmur into her ear as I loop the noose over her head and cinch it around her neck. She stands a little taller, proudly sticking her chest out.
I resist the urge to give the Prince a haughty look. I am proud of the bravery of one of our citizens over one of his. Then I step back and grasp the lever.
“Die well,” I murmur. Then I gather my courage and dutifully pull the lever…
THWAP! CRACK!
I jerk when I hear her neck break. That’s when I feel those shameful stirrings once again. At least it was a job well done, one I believe I performed better than my counterpart. Then I descend the steps with my head high, briefly giving him a scornful look as I pass by.
One by one we alternate between executions. With each Bakir hanging I feel a stronger response than the one before. A sexual stirring has risen within that shames me, although it brings some pleasurable tingles that I latch onto for comfort.
There is a noticeable change in the Prince’s demeanor when he finally hangs someone dear to him. I can see it in his eyes as well as the eyes of the one he prepares for the noose. Often there is a moment of affection – a word or perhaps a hug. Then they are dropped to their deaths.
No more hoods are used. Now it has become a matter of national pride. Each volunteer bravely faces their death with faces uncovered, their eyes reflecting fear, sorrow, regret or noble resignation along with the occasional expression of some sort of perverse excitement they are experiencing.
When it is my brother Bortan’s turn I find myself reluctant to escort him up the steps. He tries to make light of the situation, telling me this is his punishment for all those times he roughhoused with me by tackling me to the ground. I chuckle weakly and then noose him up before giving him one last hug.
“Goodbye, little one,” he murmurs softly.
“Goodbye, my brother. Be brave.” Then I step back, grab onto the lever and pull…
THWAP! CRACK!
I jerk as his neck snaps, my body tingling shamefully. Again I must force back the tears that wish to flow. Then it is the turn of Prince Osman.
He prepares one of his brothers and I see sadness and pain in his countenance. This time I am not so glad watching him as he hangs one of his family. I can see it hurts him as much as it has hurt me hanging my brother. Then the trap opens; his brother falls; the neck snaps. I wince in sorrow and shame, inwardly cursing those shameful sexual stirrings.
Dontel is next and I carefully take him up the steps. “I am sorry I must do this,” I tell him as I position him over the trap. Then I solemnly strap his ankles and knees.
“I hold no grudge, little one,” he says kindly, although I hear the nervousness in his voice. “I am willing to die for you and for country if I must.”
There are tears in my eyes when I finish. Then I step back to the lever and numbly give it a pull…
THWAP! CRACK! Another of my precious family is no more.
As we progress I can tell the executions are having an effect on the filthy Bakir Prince, just as they are having an effect on me. But whereas I feel I am softening I sense Prince Osman is hardening. There is anger in the way he nooses and drops the citizens of his country. It bleeds through even more when he nooses his own family members.
Finally it is Martine’s turn to ascend the steps, following her husband and my brother to their deaths. She sees the haunted look in my eyes and tries to comfort me. “It is okay, little one,” she murmurs kindly. Then she sighs. “My only regret is that I will not live to see my children grow up. Nevertheless, I am ready.”
She carries herself with grace and pride as I noose her and then hug her tightly. She catches her breath with a gasp as I step back to the lever… THWAP! CRACK! When her neck breaks my heart breaks with it, even as my body responds with shameful sexual tingles.
The Prince escorts one last woman up the steps. Gabrielle quietly tells me it is his older sister. I watch him hug her before angrily noosing her up, torn between his grief and his rage. Then he reaches for the lever and perfunctorily drops her…
THWAP! CRACK!
Her body jerks at the end of the rope, spasming and convulsing involuntarily. I jerk with it, feeling those shameful stirrings as her body eventually hangs limp. I am grateful the proceedings are finally at an end.
9 Last one for the gallows
The Prince eyes me coldly as he comes down from the gallows after having just executed his older sister. “I know what you did to my sister last night,” he growls sinisterly. “You will pay dearly for executing a Bakir, you Capree scum.”
“It was not by choice, I can assure you,” I spit back at him. “Of your entire family I have found only her to be the most honorable. She came and sought me out of her own free will. It was her wish to be hanged; not mine. I was duty-bound to honor her request. Check with the guard who worked the gallows last night if you must.”
“It will not matter,” he says to me and I see his eyes flicker dangerously. “I will have my revenge. Already I have put my word in to members of the council who are now meeting to discuss terms. Rest assured, you will see your parents executed by the end of the day.”
I gasp as my eyes fly open wide. “You Bakir FILTH! How DARE you!”
I turn to my handmaiden but she is no longer at my side. Where could she have gone? No matter; I will deal with this myself if I must.
With barely controlled fury I hiss, “You will leave my parents alone or you will suffer my wrath!” I have no idea what I could possibly do to him. But I vow to find a way if it comes to that.
“Bah! What does the wrath of a female Capree scum mean to me?”
“You can try me in hand-to-hand combat at your earliest convenience if you have the nerve.” Then I proudly hold myself upright. I will defend the honor of my family if I must, even though it may cost me my life.
Our dialogue is suddenly interrupted. “Just as I suspected,” a new voice interjects. I turn to see that Gabrielle has returned. But it is not her that has spoken. It is the Bakir female camera operator at her side, the one I saw earlier making the recordings.
The Prince scowls at her. “This does not concern you, Triawn!”
She icily replies, “I was there at the tidal stakes, remember? And I was there recording the event when the beheadings began this morning. Where, pray tell, were you, noble Prince?”
“That was not my doing!” he says indignantly.
“Oh, wasn’t it? This brave Capree woman willingly beheaded two members of her precious family – a sister and brother-in-law. She even privately beheaded her betrothed. I film the news, Prince; I or have you forgotten. Now I am disgusted with all this Bakir deception. I am ashamed to be Bakir. At least your sister Drucilla did the noble thing by requesting the services of this honorable woman.” Then she calmly yet resolutely turns in my direction.
“That is why I summoned your handmaiden, mistress. I wish for an honorable execution. I wish for you to hang me. I am disgusted with this whole process.”
I am shocked, but Prince Osman is infuriated. “Triawn, you will do no such thing! I will not permit this outrage!”
“You have no choice in the matter. The consent forms have already been signed. I will have my execution.”
“If you wish to hang then I will do the deed myself! No Capree scum will hang any Bakir, certainly not this day!”
“I will not be hanged by the likes of you, Prince Osman. The word is out about our Bakir treachery. Your own parents have acted deceitfully in order to spare your family, leaving the peace treaty teetering on the brink of collapse. Our uneasy truce may fall apart into full-scale war before the day is over, no thanks to you, your mother or your father.”
Prince Osman is incredulous. He stammers in protest, “My parents did no such thing!” Then he turns in my direction, glaring at me in warning.
“Go ahead, Capree scum! But if you hang Triawn I will see to it that both your parents are executed… one for my sister and one for this filthy traitor.”
“Tell me, noble Prince,” my handmaiden asks curiously. “Just how will the council react when this deception is made public to both countries? What will happen to the peace process then? Whose parents will end up being executed over this treachery?”
He sputters, suddenly at a loss for words. Then he storms off. Triawn turns toward me kindly yet firmly.
“I have had enough of this. My soul is stained from my participation in these matters. I saw how moved you were when you drowned your sister at the tidal stakes. And I saw how affected you were after you beheaded your betrothed. I had no idea the process had become so one-sided until it was revealed to me. I humbly ask that you grant me the execution I desire by your hand.”
I look at Gabrielle who shrugs her shoulders and sighs. “The Prince already knows you hanged his sister. I have signed the papers for you; what does it matter now? Besides,” and she turns to look at the determined Bakir camera operator. “I could not have imagined I would ever meet one honorable Bakir in my lifetime. Now I have met two.”
Triawn lowers her head, quietly murmuring to my handmaiden, “You honor me with your words.” Then she turns to me, her eyes set like flint. “Will you honor me by serving as my executioner?”
I look at Gabrielle feeling as though I have no choice in the matter. She hands me a length of rope she has in her hand. Triawn smiles at me before turning around and dutifully bringing her hands up behind her back.
My handmaiden smiles sadly as she tells me, “She will be the last, little one; I promise.” I nod, thankful I will not have to hang anyone else this day. Then the Bakir woman turns and looks at me with a knowing smile.
“I have witnessed how you have held yourself back during all these executions, mistress. I commend you for your composure. But this time things are different.”
“Oh? How is that?”
She smiles as she says, “I give you permission to free yourself from your self-control. When you hang me I wish for you to let yourself go… for both our sakes.”
Her words startle me. I shake my head as I tell her, “I cannot.”
“But I am requesting it.”
I look to Gabrielle in astonishment. My handmaiden looks back, equally incredulous. Then the Bakir woman addresses the guard.
“I wish for mistress to treat me shamefully as befitting this exposed Bakir treachery. It is my choice… my request. Take note if you must report this.”
She turns back to face me, appearing resolute. The guard gives me a look and nods as though indicating the request is reasonable and I am officially protected.
I turn again to Gabrielle. She smiles and nods at me, murmuring there will never be another opportunity such as this. That’s when I feel an abrupt surge of shameful excitement.
Triawn sees it in my expression and nods, becoming fearfully excited. “Yes, mistress,” she says almost in a whisper. “Enjoy my execution. For me it is both a terror and a thrill I will not deny myself.”
I swallow hard and then gather my nerve. “Understand this is not personal,” I murmur into her ear. Then in a loud voice I proclaim, “Come with me, you Bakir filth! The noose awaits!”
She gasps as I grab her arm and march her up the steps. A quick glance at her blouse reveals her obvious arousal. Her nipples have become quite hard.
For some reason this excites me even more. I get her to the top and march her over to the trap. Then I begin strapping her ankles and knees.
“You will hang today, Bakir filth! You will hang and I will enjoy it to the full!” To my shame I realize just how true my statement has become.
Triawn gasps and moans, her body trembling as I finish applying the straps. I am almost as excited as she appears to be. Then I throw the noose over the crosspiece and secure it before looping it around her throat cinching it down snug as I set the knot near her left ear.
I sadistically growl, “There will be no hood for you, Bakir filth! You will cross over into the next life with your eyes uncovered!” Then I grasp her blouse and rip it downward, exposing her breasts. Her nipples are incredibly hard. I am shamefully aroused.
She pants heavily for breath, her eyes wide as I reach out and molest her. Then I lift up her skirt and rub her moistened crotch. She writhes and moans, involuntarily bringing her legs together.
There is a look of gratitude in her eyes, gratitude mixed with a very great excitement. “Now you hang!” I proclaim as I step over to the lever. She pants heavily as I grasp and pull vehemently…
THWAP! CRACK!
Her cry as she falls is cut short, her neck snapping as she hits the end of the rope and bounces. It causes me to climax shamefully hard. All the pent-up energy from a long afternoon of witnessing hanging after hanging explodes out of me in that one moment.
It is a much-needed release. I actually feel better as I descend the steps with deliberate grace. “You look amazing, little one,” my handmaiden whispers. “Would I be wrong to surmise you needed that every bit as much as she craved her humiliation?”
I wave her to silence. “I need a bath, Gabrielle. And I need some time to be alone. Can you arrange that?”
She nods quietly. Then we both leave the gallows area. I notice we have a handful of spectators who remained upon learning of the Bakir’s desire to hang. Now they disperse as well, murmuring among themselves as I get an occasional glance of admiration…
(written for Arachnid Dec 19 ’11 by riwa)