Public Execution

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

Public Execution
[attach]1725845[/attach]
Original Author: thehangingtree
Translation: wqqq
Word Count: 12743 words
It was a cool June day, and Chris faced her execution day. The governor's
bill submitted to the Supreme Court had been approved. The bill not only stated the necessity of restoring the death penalty to curb crime, but
also proposed that executions should be public, a humiliation unprecedented for death row inmates, effectively serving as a warning to others
.
To ensure a smooth execution, Chris had been transferred from the women's prison to the district court yesterday. She
would spend her last night naked in a 150-year-old underground cell. The special last meal prepared for her
was sumptuous, but she ate nothing—thinking that she would be publicly hanged as the sun began to set
, that everyone would see her naked body shivering in the cool breeze, watching a young girl's youth
slowly fade away with the noose—indeed, how could she eat? This was already enough to make her feel ashamed,
but Chris was actually more concerned about her beloved companion. Tomorrow, she would definitely be taken to the front of the crowd to witness
every detail of the hanging, even her saliva, snot, and uncontrollable urination… Although they had begun
living together, she had never let her companion see such private matters.
As night fell, the ray of sunlight that had once streamed through the skylight disappeared, making the stone cell
even colder and more gloomy. Not even a speck of moss could be seen on the walls; the cell was devoid of any life. Chris asked a guard for a bottle of wine,
wrapped herself in a blanket, and sat against the steel bars of the door, meeting the guard's gaze. To prevent her from committing suicide,
someone was always on guard outside, and a lamp shone inside all night. Chris finally understood what it meant for “each day
to feel like a year”; the last day of her life was driving her almost insane.
There was a noise outside, and Chris saw the warden enter, asking if she was ready.
“Of course! There’s nothing to prepare,” she replied.
He glanced inside. "I suggest you... relieve yourself. You know, miss, it's for
your own good..."
Chris stared at him. "I really want to relieve myself in public during the execution. Wouldn't that satisfy you more?
Don't you want me humiliated? Am I right, Warden?"
He nodded and waved behind him. Four burly guards entered and surrounded Chris.
Soon, they had tightly bound Chris's arms behind her back, then draped a black hooded
cloak over her body. Next, they made Chris sit on the ground, put high-heeled
sandals on her, and tied the laces.
Once everything was ready, the guards led Chris out of the cell. Before she could even look back
, she was urged onto a long corridor. The clatter of her high heels on the stone floor, combined with
her attire, sounded even more eerie in the narrow corridor. Several times she nearly slipped, and eventually
the guards had to carry her to the end of the corridor. Up a dilapidated staircase, there was a door.
A guard opened it, and as soon as Chris stepped out of the death row cell, the reporters who had been waiting outside became agitated.
Countless cameras were pointed at Chris, and several television cameras were also aimed at her. The powerful flashes made it almost impossible for her to open
her eyes, and the sound of camera shutters and diesel generators greatly irritated this first woman convicted and executed for homosexuality
.
Guards and bailiffs escorted her through the reporters' crowd to the courthouse, which was separated from the detention center by only one wall.
She saw that a temporary platform had been erected on the street outside the courthouse; it wasn't very high, and
neon signs with beer logos were displayed at the four corners. The air smelled of barbecue; the citizens were clearly treating this day as a
celebration.
When they saw today's protagonist, they quickly swarmed around her, surrounding Chris. A flurry of camera
clicks erupted; those without cameras pulled out their phones. Everyone's faces shone with pride, a stark contrast to the black-robed female prisoner
. Everyone leaned forward, unwilling to miss this
opportunity for close, even direct, contact with the condemned, especially since she was an unmarried young woman.
They were not disappointed—Chris walked past them, the cool evening breeze frequently lifting her
cloak. Their phones captured images of the girl's smooth cleavage, her flat stomach, and some even captured
her most private parts from below.
Next to the courthouse stood an LED screen, allowing Chris to see the entire square. The
square was packed with people, and behind the crowd, a spotlight illuminated the platform in front of her. Behind the light was a
retractable scaffold that could be adjusted in angle and height—specially built to broadcast the execution to the entire state.
When Chris saw the gallows standing before the courthouse steps, she suddenly trembled, her legs going weak.
In the evening breeze, the noose swayed slightly, as if beckoning—calling to Chris's soul.
The bailiffs dragged Chris to the gallows; she looked up, staring blankly at the rope above her, as if her
soul had already been sucked into the ring. Seeing Chris standing there motionless, a
chorus of vulgar boos erupted from the stands. One man laughed and shouted at her, "Feel the earth one last time! This is the last time you'll touch it.
The next time you touch the earth, it will be beneath it!"
Seeing Chris's legs give way, almost collapsing to the ground, the bailiffs reached out and supported her, practically
dragging her up the 13 steps. The execution platform was actually a fairly large platform,
already occupied by more than a dozen people. Since it was the first live broadcast of an execution, even the governor was there, surrounded by the mayor, city
councilors, district councilors, the warden, sheriffs… Cameramen and photographers were searching for the best shooting angles, and finally
, of course, the other protagonist of the day—the executioner. Besides the live broadcast, to accommodate the audience,
a huge LCD screen was erected behind the gallows. Her face was now reflected on the screen, a full 20
feet tall, and everyone in the stands could read the fear in her eyes.
At this moment, someone walked up to the microphone. Because of the large speaker, she couldn't see him, only hear
his voice: "Miss Chris, given that homosexuality is a serious crime in this state, you and your companion have been
convicted by a jury of first-degree indecent acts, and the judge has sentenced you to death by hanging. Today is your execution day, and your companion
will be executed next week. Now, I hand you over to the executioner, who will be responsible for carrying out your hanging at 10 o'clock.
Executioner, prepare."
The executioner came behind Chris, checked her ropes, then grabbed her arm and took
three steps forward to the noose. In front of her was a simple platform made of several stools, a high stool and a low stool
placed one in front of the other, with another high stool next to the high stool. Chris was now standing in front of the low stool, while the executioner was already standing
on the high stool, checking the position of the noose one last time. She stood below, looking at the man who was to kill her.
He was a burly man, not wearing a mask like typical executioners; his face was clean-shaven, his tanned
complexion showing signs of hardship. He wore a long-sleeved black t-shirt and black jeans, his arms
strong and powerful, filling the sleeves completely. Chris stood on a low stool, at the man's waist level.
She noticed the prominent cone-shaped bulge in his crotch, which made her uneasy.
"Please help me," Chris said to him. With her hands bound, Chris couldn't maintain her balance on the stool
, and she nearly fell as she tried to step from the low stool to the high one. Fortunately, the executioner reacted quickly, grabbing
her arm and pulling her up.
Many people in the stands witnessed this moment, and when they saw Chris standing under the noose, they knew the most exciting
performance was about to begin, and a commotion erupted. Chris felt a chill creep down her spine. Looking down, she realized
her cloak had been accidentally torn. The evening breeze whipped the tear, revealing
glimpses of her smooth, white body, making the patch of black between her legs all the more striking. Chris secretly rejoiced that her
position was at least 15 feet higher than the stands, ensuring the people below wouldn't see clearly. But she forgot about the
enormous screen behind her, displaying everything about her.
Her height, from knee to head, was magnified four times in real time, exposing every expression, glance, and movement to the public without reservation. Everyone
, including those behind her, noticed her slightly exposed body and her embarrassed expression. Even
their breathing gradually synchronized with hers; with each inhale, her chest pushed up the cloak
, revealing more of her private parts through the tear. She and the executioner locked eyes. Even in her high-heeled
sandals, Chris could barely meet his gaze. He was so robust that even the stool beneath her feet seemed
unable to withstand his imposing presence, creaking and groaning.
"In a little while, I'll be groaning in front of him too," Chris thought. Although she was a lesbian
, she didn't dislike the man she would face for the last time—"He's at least better than those guys down there eating barbecue
and drinking beer!...I wonder if he's better at that thing too."
"Are you ready, Chris?" Just as she was lost in thought while looking at the executioner, his serious
words pulled her back to reality.
Chris nodded.
The executioner removed Chris's hat, and the girl's golden-brown curly hair fell over her shoulders. She turned
around, slightly raising her chin towards the noose. It was a thick hemp rope, swaying before her eyes,
causing her gaze to become somewhat unfocused. Finally, the rope loosely hung below her left shoulder. The man muttered something,
pulled the rope over, readjusted the distance, and then loosely looped the noose around Chris's neck. The knot
was the perfect size. Chris moved her head; the feeling of being strangled wasn't obvious, but her head could hardly escape
the noose's control. The executioner came around from behind her, straightening the rope hanging in front of her. She looked down;
the rope, now attached to the noose, hung in front of her right breast, forming a U-shape, perfectly around her breast
. It complemented the curve of her chest as if precisely calculated.
From the moment the noose was placed around her neck, Chris felt a surge of tension. Her eyes followed
the executioner's every move. When he stopped, she looked up at the gallows beam. The rope was fixed
slightly to her right, directly above her. The sky was darkening, and a few of the brightest stars were twinkling
, as if mocking her with a playful sneer. Chris licked her dry lips,
forced a smile at the man before her, and said, "I guess this rope won't break, don't you think?"
"It can't break, miss," the man replied, forcefully ripping open
the ties of Chris's cloak. He then placed two stools at her feet.
The cloak slipped from Chris's shoulders, eliciting a chorus of boos from the stands below, sounds to Chris
both lewd and obscene. Her body was now completely exposed on the 20-foot-high platform. Although night was falling,
neon lights illuminated the surroundings. A young girl, wearing black high-heeled sandals, had her arms tightly bound behind her back with
black leather straps. Her fair skin remained smooth and glossy, but shivered slightly in the cool breeze.
The moisture in her eyes perfectly complemented the decadent atmosphere. If it weren't for the
large "cp1" drawn in marker on her left breast, one might have mistaken her for a glamorous photoshoot. The
mark meant "Prisoner Number One," and she was about to be hanged in minutes!
Only the executioner, the priest, the warden, and two photographers remained on the gallows where she had just stood
. Everyone else had gone to the stands below, sitting in the first row of chairs,
enjoying the cheers and applause of the beer patrons. What was the purpose of today? Even these high-ranking officials had forgotten—was it
to make an example of someone or to entertain the masses?
Chris felt her stomach rumbling; she regretted not heeding the warden's advice. A beam of bright light
shone on her, but instead of dispelling the chill around her, it intensified her loneliness. Although she was
the star of the day, this feeling of being "too high to be true" was becoming unbearable. And she felt like
she was about to urinate. "Oh God! Please wait a bit before you come out!"
Just as her patience was reaching its limit, the executioner's voice rang out behind her: "The hanging of prisoner CP1
is ready!"
"Thank God, it's finally here!" she thought, taking a deep breath, the urge to urinate lessening considerably.
The warden approached the microphone and loudly addressed the governor, seated in the front row of the stands: "Your Excellency Governor,
you have reviewed the death sentence for the serious offender Chris. Her appeal has been rejected by the Supreme Court.
As governor, you are the only one with the authority to reduce sentences and pardon death sentences. Now, please give your final instructions:
shall we proceed with the hanging of Chris as planned?"
The governor stood up, microphone in hand, but before he could speak, a man's
shout suddenly rang out from behind him: "Hang this slut up!" The words were followed by a burst of laughter and commotion.
The governor glanced back and said sternly, "If there are any more similar comments, I will declare the area cleared."
The noise subsided slightly. The governor turned back, looked up at Chris, and said,
"Warden, the prisoner has been found guilty by the jury and given the right to appeal. All legal procedures
are strict. I have no reason to reduce her sentence. You can proceed as planned."
Although the governor's decision was expected by Chris, when her last hope was extinguished,
she still shuddered violently. The urge to urinate suddenly intensified, and warm liquid rushed to her urethra. She
tensed her legs, strained her whole body, and stared intently at a certain spot, afraid to move even slightly, as if time had frozen
at that moment, preventing herself from urinating.
She didn't know how much time had passed, perhaps only a few seconds, before she relaxed slightly, took a deep breath, and thought,
"Just end this already, I can't take it anymore!" as she awaited her fall. But instead of prayer, she
heard the pastor's voice from below: "Chris, before you are handed over to God for judgment, will you pray?"
"Pray? Ha! To hell with it!" Chris's pent-up resentment and anger finally erupted. She
shouted at the pastor, and at everyone else, "I've had enough of this! Go back to your own messes!"
The pastor shook his head, and whistles and jeering rose from the crowd; they had forgotten the governor's earlier warning.
The pastor went to the microphone again, calling on everyone to sing "Shalwegtheratt Heriver" with him
. Many people responded. Hearing the chorus, Chris's eyes darted around, and her
legs began to rub together forcefully. She felt the rope hanging limply in front of her right breast tighten. She turned
around and saw the executioner behind her pulling the noose, securing its end to the gallows. The loose, U-
shaped noose suddenly taut, tightening around her neck, forcing her to tilt her head back to the right.
"Oh, it seems they're using a slow strangulation, letting me be hanged slowly," Chris thought,
catching a glimpse of her face on the large screen behind her. Tears welled in her eyes; the screen displayed
the lyrics to Goethe's song, which she scoffed at. When the song stopped, the pastor returned to the warden with the microphone
. The warden took the microphone and solemnly announced to the crowd, "The execution of the prisoner is about to begin.
Please keep your eyes on the prisoner or the screen. This process will only be done once."
Laughter erupted from the crowd. The photographer nervously followed everything: the governor sitting in the front row, the warden
's grave expression, the executioner gripping the wrench tightly, Chris's complex expression—these scenes constantly shifted in the camera's view
. Finally, the screen displayed a split-screen view of the executioner and Chris. A noose was around Chris's neck, its diameter so thick that 　　it completely sealed
her slender neck . She saw the countdown on the large screen begin, starting from 10. Instinctively, she tried to grab 　　the noose, but it was futile. She took a deep breath; she knew this was her last 　　. 　　The audience below excitedly counted down with the screen, knowing that the simple number 10 was now 　　linked to the fate of the girl on the gallows. 　　"3...2...1...0!!" 　　The last number was just called out when the executioner forcefully pulled the lever. Chris felt the stool beneath her feet 　　suddenly plummet, losing her footing. She fell downwards due to inertia, her full breasts 　　jerking upwards as if trying to break free of their restraints. She had barely uttered a half-uttered "Ah—" when she felt 　　the thick rope around her neck suddenly increase the pressure on her skin. Her head was pulled upwards dramatically, her mouth snapped shut, and 　　that scream became her last word in this world. 　　Although the noose had been tightened before the execution, the slight descent still made Chris feel weightless; this feeling 　　was only momentary, her free fall was less than 10 centimeters. When the noose was tautest against 　　her body, her fall stopped, and at the same time, she seemed to feel each 　　vertebra in her neck cracking. Her body began to twist and swing back and forth like a lead pendulum. 　　The knot was now pressed tightly under her right ear; the skin on her neck, usually carefully maintained, was exceptionally delicate and smooth, 　　and therefore exceptionally sensitive to external stimuli. Now, it was being rubbed raw by the rough rope, causing it to bleed. 　　The pedal that had just been opened slammed back into place, but the stool beneath Chris's feet had fallen onto the sidewalk below 　　. Her naked body had nothing to rely on except the noose around her neck. The girl had 　　surrendered her entire being to it, and it was indeed relentlessly seizing her. 　　Chris's slender body swayed and spun in the air. She felt dizzy, but hadn't lost consciousness. 　　Her chest heaved; the noose wasn't suffocating her as quickly as she had expected. The rope's thickness greatly 　　reduced its force; her trachea was only being slowly compressed. Chris could even let the 　　cool night air enter her chest, though it was becoming increasingly difficult. 　　When she turned to face the large screen, she saw for the first time her body projected onto 　　it in such an exaggerated way. The high-definition image left her with absolutely no privacy; she was completely naked, suspended in mid-air, 　　every inch of her skin from head to toe magnified four times. A few strands of golden-brown curly hair swayed gently in the evening breeze, and her two slender 　　legs trembled like a dragonfly fluttering its wings across the water. Her pubic hair, however, was black.

Her body was meticulously trimmed to the same length. Every sound emanating from her body, even her breathing, was
captured by miniature microphones surrounding her and amplified by a massive speaker.
"I wonder where my darling is now. She must be here, seeing all this. My body has been
seen by her so many times, but this is the last time." Thinking this, her legs trembled involuntarily
, clamping even tighter than before, as if loosening them would mean losing something. The slow suffocation, the impending death,
terrified her; the public nudity, the slut's reputation, filled her with shame; yet, the past intimacy with her companion
and the current heat emanating from deep within her body excited her. Chris waited amidst this complex mix of feelings
…
and everyone else waited too. At that moment, a gurgling sound came from deep within Chris's gradually closing
throat. Beads of sweat glistened on her pale skin under the bright light.
Ending (1) Ending (2)
Ending (1)
Chris had been hanging for over five minutes, a dozen feet above their heads. In the stands, the warden
watched the prisoner's agonizing struggle and contorted body, then took out a cigarette holder, filled it with a cigar, and before lighting it,
loudly praised the executioner who had just sat down beside him: "Her hanging was spectacular! You did a great job!
How long do you think she'll live?"
"I don't know, she should be unconscious by now, even if she's not dead," the executioner complained. "I told
you that rope wasn't right, it was fucking too thick!"
"Don't talk nonsense, kid! Many people here paid a lot of money to come, and the TV station bought
the broadcasting rights. Of course they want their trip to be worthwhile. Let her struggle a little longer, haha."
For the next few minutes, Chris's performance certainly lived up to expectations. She could barely exhale
the stale air from her lungs. With her head tilted back, saliva flowed back into her throat, mixing with the existing fluids
and exacerbating the sticky feeling in her respiratory tract, making the sounds coming from it muffled and unclear.
Chris's consciousness began to blur; sometimes she completely surrendered to her instincts, her body falling silently to the
ground. Her hands still tried to grab the rope, but of course, several attempts were futile.
The initial struggle had exhausted Chris's strength; she was too tired. Suddenly, cheers erupted from below
. The sound startled her awake. She forced herself to see what was happening, but
the bright light shining directly at her from six angles made it difficult for her to adjust. It turned out the photographer was showing the audience a slow-motion replay of the moment she fell from six different angles
, which drew cheers from the crowd.
Thirty-five minutes had passed since the hanging began, the noose digging deep into Chris's neck.
Small beads of blood seeped from the bruises on her neck, mingling with the saliva dripping from her mouth, giving it a pinkish
hue. Compared to the beautiful and sexy female prisoner before the execution, her face was now swollen and purple, her eyes bloodshot
, and snot clung to her lips, glistening against her original lip gloss. Her mouth opened
and closed like a fish out of water, yearning for air.
"God, let me die quickly, even if you send me to hell afterward, I can't bear it!"
Chris thought. But clearly, God wasn't with her at this moment—her sense of touch was still fully preserved. She felt
curls of hair hanging down her neck, her face, the ends even getting into her eyelids. She could also precisely detect mosquitoes
buzzing around her, occasionally landing on her smooth skin before flying away, "satisfied." She couldn't see these things
, but she could feel them, and worse, she was powerless to stop them. If she could make a sound, the whole
city would hear her desperate cries.
Almost 45 minutes had passed, and she was still hanging there, her body trembling and struggling unconsciously, but she
was still holding on, even though she didn't want to. The bottle of wine she'd drunk before the execution was now working against her; she felt
a heat between her legs—a signal that she knew what was happening, but she no longer wanted to control her sphincter . At first, urine dripped down Chris's legs, but a few seconds later, it 　　gushed down
like a fountain , hitting the platform beneath her feet—the very place her feet longed to touch again, but now her 　　"beads" had done it for her. 　　Another five minutes passed, and Chris above had stopped struggling, her body hanging naturally and limply 　　on the rope, a puddle of water at her feet. Her legs were no longer tightly pressed together, and the traces of sweat and urine on the inside of her thighs 　　were clearly visible. 　　The warden glanced at the lifeless Chris, stood up, turned to the crowd, and announced loudly, 　　"Ladies and gentlemen, you have witnessed the return of justice, although this time it took longer than we anticipated." 　　He looked up at Chris, and a knowing laugh rippled through the crowd. The warden continued, "I assure you 　　we will continue to conduct public executions like this, though some details need improvement. You may 　　stay here for another 45 minutes; the square will be cleared within an hour. Tomorrow is Sunday, so don't forget to come back after church 　　. Prisoner number one's body will remain on public display here from 1 p.m. to 3 p.m. tomorrow." Another 　　burst of laughter followed. 　　"Next Saturday, we will hang prisoner number two, the female companion of the prisoner we just saw, also convicted of 　　first-degree debauchery. I hope you will all be there." 　　The crowd erupted in a final rush to buy beer, hiccuping and excitedly 　　discussing the execution with their friends, their faces glistening with oil. The executioner then climbed onto the gallows. 　　He steadied Chris's slightly spinning body, about to untie her, when he was astonished to find that Chris's leg 　　twitched noticeably! 　　"She's still alive?!" he thought. The audience began to leave in droves, no one noticing the executioner's 　　shocked expression. The executioner tried to calm himself, standing on the stage watching the audience leave. 　　All the guests had already left, and the warden had left with them. A few minutes later, only 　　the executioner and Chris, hanging there, remained. 　　The executioner untied the ropes securing him to the pole and slowly lowered Chris's body. While being suspended...

Nearly an hour later, Chris finally landed on the gallows again. The executioner quietly knelt beside Chris,
testing the noose around her neck with his fingers. There was enough space to insert, so he was certain the noose
hadn't completely tightened around the prisoner's neck.
The prisoner was still alive!
"What should I do? Report to the warden? He'll eat me alive!" He looked at Chris, his mind
racing. "This prisoner is young and beautiful, let her live! Although she doesn't like men, what if he's
her savior... Oh dear, what am I thinking? She'll be paraded here tomorrow!"
As the executioner was thinking, Chris's chest heaved noticeably, and she opened her eyes.
Without a second thought, the executioner unbuckled his belt, quickly pulled it from his waistband, and placed it around
Chris's neck, tightening it!
"I'm sorry, young lady! It'll be over in a moment," he whispered, tightening his grip even more!
Chris's eyes widened suddenly, staring at the man in front of her. He was less than a foot away;
she could feel his breath and clearly see his pectoral muscles bulging so much they seemed about to tear his t-shirt apart
.
"How could this be!" Chris felt no sorrow. A strange sensation stirred within her lower abdomen,
a sensation that brought her pleasure. She and her partner had sexual experience, and now it felt as if her partner was
teasing her with her hands, her body, in their intimate way—playing a cruel joke on her.
Chris's tongue lolled out, a little strangely, saliva dripping from the corner of her mouth onto the man's arm, where
the veins bulged and trembled slightly from the exertion. Chris's trembling was far more intense than his; she was like
prey seeing its life extinguished, struggling desperately in the hunter's pursuit. Her hands were bound, which
only amplified the amplitude of her body's movements. Her legs were spasming violently, even her buttocks were convulsing, pounding against the table
with a "thud." The executioner had to kneel on her legs, but she almost threw him off.
Chris's body was turned over, the executioner pressing down hard on her buttocks, his body almost pressed against her back
. She could clearly hear the man's breathing, feel the heat of his breath tickling her ears, which reminded her
of her female companions—they often did this, and Chris was especially sensitive to it. Tears streamed down her face—were they tears of joy,
fear, resentment, longing? Tears that were hard to describe! The pleasure within Chris grew increasingly restless,
surging intensely, then converging more and more powerfully. "Oh God! It's about to come out!"
Chris knew these were the seconds before orgasm, but this time it was far more intense than ever before. She knew
what she had to do.
The executioner felt the girl beneath him suddenly arch her back dramatically, her buttocks trembling violently. He had
lost his balance, so he flipped her over, pinning her down so their eyes met, and gripped her neck tightly with both hands
. At the same time, he felt her legs trembling beneath him, rubbing rapidly against his body…
A few seconds later, Chris's convulsions suddenly subsided noticeably, a faint smile appearing on her tear-streaked face.
Soon, even her last struggle ceased.
The executioner breathed a sigh of relief, his grip loosening slightly, but he still held Chris tightly. After a while
, he whispered in Chris's ear, "Don't worry, your companion won't have to go through what you did next week
."
Chris seemed to hear him, or perhaps not; her head shook slightly, tilting to one side, and then
fell silent.
The executioner climbed off Chris's body. It was nearly midnight. The evening breeze dispelled some of the gloom in his heart
, but it couldn't extinguish the "fire" within him. He felt a chill in his groin; looking down, he saw a clear
wet patch—left by the girl at his feet. He felt a throbbing erection; the girl's struggle
had excited him immensely. He looked down at the girl, noticing a similar wet patch beneath her buttocks. Her neatly trimmed
pubic hair now appeared disheveled and damp, and the lingering scent of her struggle in the air was almost
unbearable.
"Exhibition tomorrow at noon, baby. We still have a dozen hours, hehe."
The next day, at the exhibition, the authorities officially announced that Convict Number One, Chris, had been hanged. But only
the executioner knew the truth about her death…
Return to
Ending (Part Two)
Five minutes into Chris's hanging, the warden shouted to the executioner sitting beside him:
“Her hanging was truly spectacular, you did a great job! How long do you think she'll last?”
“I don’t know, she should be unconscious by now, even if she’s not dead,” the executioner complained. “I told
you that rope was no good, it was too damn thick!”
“Don’t talk nonsense, kid! Many people here paid a lot of money to come here, and the TV station bought the
broadcasting rights. Of course, they want to get their money’s worth. Let her struggle a little longer, haha! Look, the big screen
is replaying her scene from multiple angles, oh, in slow motion!”
But even the most spectacular scene becomes tiresome after watching it a dozen times. Thirty minutes passed, and seeing Chris
still struggling in the air, the governor grew impatient. She turned to the warden and said, "This is going on too long. She
'll die soon, won't she?"
"That rope is too thick. Judging from the current situation, she can hold on for at least another 30 minutes." Because
he was facing the governor, the executioner didn't swear this time.
The governor shook her head: "No, this isn't upholding justice, it's torture. Think of something, young
man!" The executioner took out a rope about one centimeter thick from his backpack; a 　　loop
had already been tied around it .
The governor looked at him in surprise and said, "You mean you want to use this rope to hang her again?!"
"Your Excellency, you now have three choices: one is to let her hang there like that, which, according to you,
is torture; the second is to pardon her and reduce her sentence; the third is to allow me to use this rope."
The governor thought for a moment, licked her lips, and finally took a deep breath and made up her mind: "God
help me, do it!"
The executioner put the rope back into his bag, stood up, and called two guards to accompany him back to the gallows.
The gallows had begun to rise and return to its original position, and Chris's toes could barely reach the gallows
' planks. Before she could even understand what was happening, the executioner had already untied the rope and lowered her down.
After more than half an hour of hanging, Chris's body finally fell back onto the gallows, and to her surprise
, she was still alive.
The audience below was outraged, whistling incessantly, all believing that Chris would be pardoned.
Her helpers supported Chris, who was already breathing heavily. Despite being supported, she was too weak to stand
up and her knees buckled on the gallows. The executioner then untied
the knots securing the rope to the gallows' crossbeams above her head and quickly threaded the thinner rope through the pulley and secured it. Then he knelt beside Chris,
attempting to remove the thick rope from her neck.
At that moment, the warden's voice rang out: "Attention everyone, quiet! We've encountered a
minor technical problem, which we're currently resolving. Please remain silent; the hanging will resume soon."
Chris, who had held onto a sliver of hope, glared at the executioner and let out a hoarse yet piercing scream from her wounded throat
: "Ah—when will this end?!"
The executioner removed the rope from her head and said apologetically, "I'm sorry, but I promise this time it
will be quick." As he spoke, he looped the thin rope around her neck.
"Oh, no! You can't do this! You can't make me suffer twice!" The assistants beside her struggled to restrain
Chris, preventing her from violently resisting.
The executioner smoothed Chris's hair, removed it from the noose, and tested
the diameter of the loops. He could only fit a finger between the noose and her neck. He nodded and said to her again, "I promise
you won't suffer so much this time, Miss Chris!"
He stood up, strode to the gallows, and called for his helpers to lift Chris. He gripped the rope tightly and
looked back at her. The girl was now sobbing uncontrollably. Her cries, though loud, were
hoarse and choked with sobs due to her injured throat.
Chris was utterly devastated. To
be subjected to such humiliation again, her already swollen bladder gave way, and warm urine streamed down her thighs. At first, she tried to stop it, twisting
her legs desperately, but then she let it flow, along with her tears. Those below, seeing this, began
to laugh and cheer loudly.
The executioner, watching this, quickened his pace. He gestured for his helper to bring Chris to the platform,
gave the rope a final look, and then shouted a single word: "Pull!"
Chris cried out, "God, please stop—oops!" Before she could finish, the platform beneath her feet
suddenly sank, and her body plummeted again.
She fell freely for about three feet before the rope tightened again, suspending her in mid-air once more. Unlike before
, this time she truly felt the suffocating pain "quickly," as the executioner had described, while her bladder continued
to relax. As if in retaliation, the moment the rope tightened, her legs convulsed, her body jerked forward
, and a stream of urine gushed out, flying far towards the guests seated in the first row below, eliciting
screams from below.
Just as the executioner had said, the rope quickly pierced Chris's neck, tightly sealing her trachea and
carotid artery, leaving her feeling dizzy and disoriented. Chris's lips had been bitten when they fell, and
blood was trickling down the corner of her mouth. Her lips were beautifully shaped; normally, she would have screamed and worried for ages, but now
she felt no pain at all. Compared to the other anxieties she was experiencing, it was insignificant. Her mouth opened and
closed like a fish out of water craving oxygen, and her lower abdomen heaved violently, as if trying to
squeeze the air from her stomach into her lungs.
Chris's violent struggle lasted less than a minute before suddenly weakening. Her legs began to rub together slightly
, eventually crossing over. Her hands rested limply behind her back, her fingers occasionally brushing against her buttocks
. This, along with the remaining urine between her legs, the vaginal fluid, and the drool from her mouth, created a lewd
scene, fueling the fantasies of those watching her on the large screen.
Applause erupted from the crowd, and people spontaneously began to sing a song with only one line: "Die! You bitch!
Die!"
Chris could no longer hear the insults directed at her; she only felt ringing in her ears, dizziness, and her lungs felt like they were on fire.
Two minutes later, her reactions were minimal, with only occasional tremors in her legs.
At three minutes, she felt her heart stop beating. Her body tensed up with extreme effort
, her toes pointed straight, even her hair seemed to stand on end. This posture lasted for a few seconds before
she suddenly relaxed, completely losing consciousness.
The hanging lasted less than four minutes, and Chris was dead. Under the lights, her limp body
slowly rotated in the air, displaying her once proud figure to the audience. Her alluring legs were now soaked and
slightly parted, shamelessly exposed on the big screen.
The warden picked up the microphone and announced loudly to the audience: "Ladies and gentlemen, you have witnessed the
execution of Prisoner Number One. Her body will remain hanging here for another hour. We will
continue the live broadcast for the next 45 minutes, and we also allow audience members to come up and observe. After 45 minutes, we will clear the area." He
paused, then continued, "Please remember that after the prisoner is placed in her coffin, she will
be on display again tomorrow from 12 noon to 3 pm. Also, next Saturday night at 10 pm, we will continue the public execution of
Prisoner Number Two, who is Prisoner Number One's female companion. Thank you all, and we hope you will be there!"
The executioner on the gallows walked towards the warden and the governor, the latter still trying to wipe
the urine that had splashed onto his uniform. She looked up at the executioner and said, "Thank you for the idea. But I hope next week's
hanging can be completed in five minutes to half an hour, is that possible?"
"No problem! Next time I can use a thicker rope. I think we owe Chris a little bit;
we should have given her companion a better hanging. But anyway, we have a week to practice."
The next afternoon, Chris's body was placed in a simple coffin, leaning against the street in front of the courthouse.
The exhibition continued. She was still naked, and for the sake of the display, the thin rope was still around her neck,
though it had loosened, the end resting on her chest. She looked so quiet and innocent, seemingly unaware that she had
so resolutely taken a young girl's life just a day earlier. Chris's arms were still bound behind her back for
the sake of the exhibition—this would make her breasts stand out more, and the "CP1" insignia on her chest would be more
conspicuous. Her neck was covered in bloody marks, the marks of being strangled by two nooses. She was still wearing
her high-heeled sandals, and there were obvious bruises on her feet and ankles, indicating that she had struggled violently.
People lined up to "pay their respects" to her remains, scrutinizing her from head to toe with strange looks, not missing
an inch of her skin or hair. Before this, her lover had already visited her; she was wearing an orange-red
prison uniform, loose-fitting, but her bulging breasts still made the "CP2" prisoner insignia stand out prominently.
She gazed lovingly at Chris, leaned down and gave her one last kiss, then softly told
Chris, "Darling, we can be together again next week, forever!"

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