A sense of unease at the gallows (Guest author)

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As I stood at the foot of the gallows, watching the women twitch and writhe in their final moments, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. Something wasn’t right here. And when I saw the state they were in after death – well, let’s just say it was enough to make a hard man blush.

The first gal had her skirt bunched up around her waist, revealing a pair of stockings that looked like they’d seen better days. A vibrator buzzed away inside her, still humming despite being expelled from her quivering quim. Cream dripped from every corner of her undergarments, evidence of some serious seismic activity.

Number two was a real mess. Her dress was soaked through, and she wore a sodden petticoat that hung low over her knees. She’d obviously lost control of her bladder big time, leaving behind a river of urine that smelled like a sewer. But worst of all was the sight of her engorged clitoris, standing tall and proud as if ready for action.

Third girl didn’t look any better. Her knickers were soaked, and her dress was spattered with cream. A vibrator stuck out of her quim like a flagpole, still going strong. This broad must have really put on a show.

Fourth girl was luckier than the others. She hadn’t peed herself nearly as badly, but she did wear a sizeable turd wedged between her cheeks. Maybe she got stage fright?

But the fifth lady took the cake. At fifty years old, she should know better than to get worked up over something like this. Still, she’d managed to soil her drawers pretty good, and her vibrator sat snug in her quim like a bullet in a gun barrel.

Sixth girl had me scratching my chin. Why did she need such a fancy chemise with those puffy nipples? Guess she wanted to look extra special for her date with destiny. Too bad she ended up with a face full of shit instead.

Seventh girl had her tongue hanging out like a dog in heat. She’d left a lake of pee in her wake, along with a healthy dollop of poop smeared across her petticoats. No wonder she went out with a whimper rather than a roar.

Eight was a tiny thing, barely legal looking. But she sure knew how to work her body. She’d ejaculated all over the place, leaving behind a sea of creamy fluid. And her vibrator was nowhere to be found, having shot out of her like a cannonball.

Ninth girl was another mess. Pee and poop covered her petticoats, and her vibrator lay discarded among the ruins. Didn’t take long for her to hit rock bottom.

Tenth girl was different. She may have died fast, but she sure kept things tidy until the end. Not a spot of pee or poop anywhere. Just a few drops of cream and a vibrator still buried deep within her.

After the ladies were laid to rest in their coffins, I couldn’t stop thinking about them. The fate of these doomed vixens weighed heavily upon me, even if the world deemed them sinful and deserving of their ignominious ends.

My thoughts circled back to the eerie scenes that unfolded before our eyes mere hours ago. The night following the executions was moonlit and very cold, the frigid air biting at everything it touched. Word about the unprecedented event had spread like wildfire across the dusty streets of Tuscon: ten women had met their maker via hangman’s noose that day, and though there were several accounts of what exactly led to their ghastly fate — whether they were mere thieves or something much darker altogether — nobody could deny the sheer audacity of their final moments.

For my part, I found myself drawn to the site of their impending burial, unable to peel myself away from the gruesome imagery etched into the minds of everyone present. Each woman had died writhing in sexual ecstasy, every gasp and moan echoing through the crowd like the soundtrack to some twisted symphony.

And yet when the undertakers came for their remains, a curious thing happened: the wooden coffins shook with renewed vigor, straining against the bindings that held them locked tight. It seemed almost too much to bear, the knowledge that these poor souls were not yet really deceased! But then came another revelation, a truth stranger still: each lid burst asunder and the deceased rose en masse before us, naked and quivering, embracing their newfound freedom as if born again.

As I watched them fly away, borne aloft upon whispers and promises communicated between the stars above our heads, whilst their naked haunches shone in the moonlight, I realized how little we really know about the world around us. How many secrets hide behind closed doors, waiting to emerge once given a chance? Their departure heralded the start of yet another long journey into the heart of things unknown and unseen. A pilgrimage into the very fabric of reality itself, leading us deeper into realms beyond imagination, hidden from view until now.

A chill ran down my spine as those words escaped my lips. What did they mean? Where would this path lead us next? Only time would tell, and yet my instincts warned me against further investigation.

Sep 2023 by Bartholinus

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