[Fantasy] Lu Zi's Public Execution

Living alone in an unfamiliar city, the daily routine of commuting is monotonous and peaceful, yet I sometimes long for something unusual, whether surprising or delightful, it's always better than the monotony. Although these silent hopes never actually materialize.

This evening, after dinner, I felt very tired. I tried reading for a while and watching TV, but I couldn't concentrate. Perhaps it was the accumulated stress from recent work, so I decided to go to bed early and fell into a deep sleep.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my body, and I woke up groggily, feeling like I'd fallen out of bed. I'm usually a very good sleeper. Opening my eyes, it was pitch black. I heard footsteps nearby. My hand instinctively touched the ground beneath me, instantly waking me up. The texture wasn't the familiar softness of a comforter, but rough burlap. I frantically reached around. It was a burlap sack. How did I end up inside one? The sack was tightly sealed; it was impossible to open from the inside. Was I being kidnapped? A sense of panic welled up inside me.

Just then, I felt the burlap sack being lifted and dragged along the ground for a short distance. I froze, terrified. The sack was opened, and the man pulled it down slightly, revealing my head.

It was a dimly lit room. Before me stood a tall, muscular man wearing a black leather bodysuit, his strong muscles clearly visible, even his genitals were prominently displayed, making my heart race. The man wore black leather military boots and a black leather hood, obscuring his expression and face. He wore thin gloves of some unknown material. Several other similarly dressed, muscular men stood scattered around, each wearing a black metal collar with a tag around their neck. The tag seemed to have numbers on it, but the light was too dim to read.

"Are you Miss Lu Zi?" the tall man asked in a cold voice.

"How do you know my name? Why did you kidnap me? Where am I? What are you going to do to me? You…" I screamed in terror.

*Slap! Slap!* My scream was cut short by two slaps to the left and right. The man in front of me held a leather paddle, which looked like the kind of instrument used for slapping in period dramas. I had never been slapped before, and I was immediately too frightened to scream again. But then, the man slapped me twice more hard with the paddle, my cheeks burning with pain.

"The first two slaps were because you were yelling and shouting. These two slaps are to make a lasting impression. Now that you're here, you have to be obedient. Do what I'm told, say what I'm told, or you'll be punished. This is the first time, so I'm explaining it to you. If you make a mistake in the future, you'll be punished directly. Do you understand, Miss Ruko?" "Yes! Yes!" Still stuffed in the sack, I quickly nodded in response.

"Very good, let's begin." With that, the man gestured to those around him.

Begin? Begin what? Before I could even think, a burly man came up, picked up the sack, and dragged it into the next room.

This was a white frosted glass room, completely blocking out the outside view, yet allowing unobstructed light to stream in, making it much brighter than the previous room. Surveillance cameras were installed at all four corners of the glass room's roof, enough to capture a clear view of any corner of the room. In the center of the room stood a silver-white metal interrogation chair, and opposite it, on a raised platform, were a trial table and a trial chair.

The man who had been the leader earlier sat behind the trial table and coldly said, "Strip naked and put me on the table." Before I could react, two burly men dragged me out of the sack. One grabbed me forcefully, while the other roughly stripped me naked. I was still wearing the pink silk nightgown I had worn to bed the night before, which was easily torn to shreds by the men, leaving me only in a white lace thong. The sudden stimulation and intense humiliation instantly overwhelmed my reason; I screamed and struggled violently.

*Crack!* A sharp lash struck my back, causing me to stiffen in pain. The man who had been tearing my clothes seized the opportunity to rip off my lace thong, and I struggled and screamed again. The result, naturally, was punishment; I was whipped again. This time, I saw clearly that another burly man held a thin, long whip. With each flick of his wrist, the whip lashed out deftly, landing precisely on my body. No matter how much I struggled or twisted, I couldn't escape it. Each strike burned with pain, leaving only a faint red mark, without damaging my delicate skin. If I hadn't been a bystander, I would have admired the skill of this whipping technique. But now, I was the one being punished, so I could only struggle and cry helplessly.

The whip lashed my back and buttocks, and the pain gradually brought me back to my senses. I finally remembered the warning from the leading man and quickly suppressed the immense fear, pain, and shame, daring not to struggle or cry out anymore. Sure enough, the whipping stopped.

At this moment, I noticed that the tags on the burly men's collars had numbers on them: the one who grabbed me was number one, the one who tore my clothes was number two, and the one who whipped me was number three. Number One and Number Two were on either side of me, one grabbing my arm with one hand and the other grabbing my breast with the other, even kneading it a few times. I instinctively wanted to scream, but fearing further whipping, I quickly bit my lip, daring not to make a sound, only my body instinctively twisting a few times.

I was dragged to the interrogation chair and sat down. The cold metal made me shudder, and I instinctively wanted to jump up, but I was held tightly and couldn't move an inch. My buttocks and genitals were pressed tightly against the metal seat, the cold metallic sensation penetrating my body from below, constantly reminding me that I was now completely naked and forced to sit on the cold metal interrogation chair.

Number Two pulled out metal handcuffs, each over ten centimeters wide, from both sides of the chair back, pulled them forward, and fastened them tightly, fixing my entire waist to the chair back. Then, my hands were placed on the armrests, and each wrist, elbow, and upper arm was tightly locked with a metal handcuff. My legs were then forcibly spread wide apart, exposing my private parts. The interrogation chair was very narrow; when my back and buttocks were locked to the chair back, the seat only reached my upper thighs. After my legs were forcibly spread apart, my private parts were exposed without any cover. "Ah!!" I finally couldn't help but scream again, but the expected whipping did not occur. Thinking I had escaped unscathed, I looked up and met the sharp eyes of the man sitting high in the interrogation chair. I couldn't help but tremble. My intuition told me that I might not have escaped unscathed, but that other punishments awaited me. My legs were pulled back and to the sides, my ankles tightly handcuffed to the back legs of the interrogation chair, requiring me to spread my legs even wider than when they were handcuffed to the front. Then, my knees and thighs were also tightly handcuffed. I was thus firmly fixed to the interrogation chair.

I'm usually introverted and conservative, afraid to wear anything even slightly revealing, and blush easily at the slightest glance from a man. Now, stripped naked and chained to a cold interrogation chair, my legs forced wide open, subjected to the unbridled scrutiny of several strange men, awaiting an unknown trial and torture—it was a nightmare.

"I am the judge, you can address me as 'Sir.' The interrogation will begin. Answer all questions honestly, understand?" came the cold voice of the man sitting high in the judge's chair.

"Understood," I quickly replied, but my voice was weak and trembling, barely audible even to myself.

"Number Three, slap her," the judge coldly ordered. I watched in horror as Judge Number Three swiftly stepped forward and slapped me hard across the face twice with a leather paddle. So the paddle really was a torture device specifically for slapping the mouth, or perhaps not just for that.

"Sir, I understand, I understand, I will answer all questions honestly!" I shouted as Judge Number Three tried to slap me again.

The judge waved for Judge Number Three to step back.

"What's your name?"

"Ruko." Although the judge already knew my name, I answered loudly and truthfully, partly out of fear of punishment, and partly because I knew that, throughout history, interrogations have always included a procedure for prisoners to identify themselves.

I didn't realize that I had been forced to accept that I was a prisoner who needed to be interrogated and punished.

"Age?"

"26 years old."

"How do you think you look?"

"I think I'm pretty, not bad." I felt embarrassed after answering that, it was the first time I'd ever complimented myself on my looks to a strange man.

"Be more specific, how are you pretty?" the judge continued coldly.

I was stunned. How was I supposed to explain? Should I just blurt out all my usual self-assured opinions? That was too embarrassing. *Slap!* In that moment of hesitation, Judge Number Three slapped me hard across the face with a leather paddle.

"I think I'm alluring, with fair and delicate skin, a slender and supple waist, and large, perky breasts and buttocks." I didn't dare hesitate any longer and answered loudly. Afterwards, remembering my current state of being tortured, I felt a surge of heat throughout my body.

"You are indeed very seductive. Are you a seductive woman?"

"No, I'm naturally introverted and conservative." I quickly denied it.

"Then are you a virgin?"

"Yes, I am a virgin." Conservative and timid as I am, I've never dared to taste the forbidden fruit.

"It's unbelievable how alluring she is. Number Two, go check her." "Sir, I really am a virgin, really, really!" Check? I had no desire to undergo any virginity check; the mere thought of it was incredibly shameful.

*Slap! Slap!* Number Three slapped me twice more with a slap, one on the front and one on

the back. I guessed my cheeks were already red and swollen. My screams enraged the judge, who ordered, "Shut up! You're a stubborn idiot who never learns. It seems we need to take some measures to increase your punishment and subject you to forced discipline. Number One, put a large gag on her." I wanted to beg for mercy, but I knew that speaking again would only further enrage the judge. I was anxious, fearful, and helpless.

Number One brought a large, solid red gag, forcefully pried open my mouth, shoved the gag into my mouth, and then pulled the leather straps at both ends of the gag tightly behind my head. A large, solid gag was pressed tightly against my upper and lower jaws. Because the straps were fastened so tightly, it was pressed inwards to the base of my tongue, but a small portion of the red ball still protruded. I tried to scream and beg for mercy, but only managed muffled "oohs."

With my legs spread wide, naked and chained to the interrogation chair, my mouth was now gagged, and I could only watch helplessly as I underwent this shameful virginity examination. The second officer first parted my thick pubic hair with his fingers, clearly exposing my vaginal opening, and then began to rub my labia majora and minora. A tingling sensation, like an electric current, coursed through my body. I felt my genitals begin to moisten, and my vaginal opening opened automatically. The second officer inserted a metal tool into my vagina and then opened it again. It turned out to be a vaginal speculum. Next, the second officer inserted a long-handled small mirror into my dilated vagina to examine it carefully.

After a while, the examination was finished. The second officer put the tools away, but I still felt the cold metallic sensation of the speculum lingering inside me.

"Not a virgin," the second officer respectfully reported to the judge.

My eyes widened, thinking I'd misheard. How could I not be a virgin? Then a chill ran through me as a long-buried memory from over a decade ago resurfaced: I'd been raped and assaulted.

"You slut! How dare you lie! Number Two, gag this slut's cunt! Number Three, whip this slut's breasts with a leather paddle!" the judge ordered angrily after hearing the report.

Number Three brought over a large, wet dildo. Having never had sexual intercourse except for the rape I'd suffered as a child, I was terrified to see such a large dildo being inserted. How could it possibly fit?

Number Two slowly inserted the dildo into my lower body. I cried and struggled, but gagged and chained to the interrogation chair, my loud cries turned into helpless groans. My struggles became twisting, the most pronounced being my unbound buttocks, which seemed to be welcoming the dildo's insertion.

The pain I expected—the inability to penetrate or the tearing—didn't happen. I watched helplessly as the thick, long dildo slowly slid into my lower body, followed by waves of tingling, fullness, and my body trembled uncontrollably. Suddenly, I panicked. Was I really born wanton? Actually, the liquid on the dildo was a high-quality lubricant with both rapid and lasting aphrodisiac effects. No matter how chaste or virtuous a woman, if this lubricant were to penetrate her directly, she would instantly become a slut. Of course, I only learned this much later.

Before I could even react, Number Three had already started slapping my large, perky breasts with a leather slap.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! My breasts were being slapped alternately from all angles, up, down, left, and right, like two frightened little rabbits, trembling and jumping wildly. The slaps on my breasts weren't very painful, nothing like the burning sting of a slap. But the crisp slapping sounds and the trembling of my breasts created an intense sense of shame that was far more unbearable than the pain of the slaps.

With a large dildo inserted into my genitals, I continued to be interrogated amidst the slapping sounds.

"You slut, you're not a virgin, and you dare lie? Do you think you deserve this punishment?" I was completely mute with a gag in my mouth, but I couldn't ignore the judge's questions, so I could only nod frantically.

"Then did you commit adultery with a married man?"

Hearing this, I felt like I'd been struck by lightning. How could I, without even a boyfriend, have committed adultery with a married man? But unable to speak, I could only desperately shake my head in denial.

"Hmph, still dare to deny it? Look at your lewd appearance! Your breasts are swollen, your nipples are erect, you're wiggling your ass and flaunting your slutness, and your cunt is constantly leaking juices." I looked down at my body. Due to the prolonged slapping, although it wasn't very painful, my breasts were red and swollen, and my nipples were erect from the stimulation. Sitting on the interrogation chair with the dildo inserted in my genitals was very uncomfortable, and my buttocks were twisting uncontrollably. What was truly unexpected was that my swollen and numb genitals were actually leaking juices through the dildo, even flowing down my thighs onto the interrogation chair.

"You slut, do you admit that you are a whore?"

Looking at the juices still flowing from my genitals, and being gagged so I couldn't defend myself, I wanted to end this punishment as soon as possible, so I could only nod and admit that I was a whore.

"Very well, then the one who committed adultery with a married man must be you, you vile harlot. I hereby sentence you, Lu Zi, to female prisoner for adultery, number 438, to be executed immediately." The judge stood up and loudly pronounced the sentence. He then walked to me personally, took a bright red collar from number one, paused in front of me to show me the words "Adulterous Harlot 483" engraved on it—my crime and prisoner number. Ignoring my desperate shaking of my head, my twisting and struggling, my desperate crying and groaning, the judge put the collar around my neck and locked it behind my neck.

A "click" sounded in my ear—the sound of the collar locking—and I resignedly fell silent.

The heavy bright red metal collar clung to my neck, perfectly fitting my skin, as if custom-made for me. It was engraved with my crime and female prisoner number. From then on, I was a female prisoner without identity, without name, only a number.

"Begin the execution of adulterous woman No. 438!" the judge announced loudly as

he returned to the platform. Finally, I was lowered from the interrogation chair. After delivering the verdict, the judge left, and the burly men busied themselves preparing something. I touched the gag and collar; they were locked and couldn't be removed. I didn't dare take the dildo out of my genitals, so I could only continue sitting naked on the ground with the dildo still inside, moving my numb limbs and rubbing my swollen, red breasts from being slapped.

"438, come here!" Number One commanded. I didn't react immediately.

"Adulterous woman No. 438, come here!" This time I realized they were calling me. Now I was just a female prisoner with a crime and a number.

I stood up shakily, but before I could even steady myself, I was suddenly struck hard on the buttocks and fell to the ground. Looking back, I saw that Number Two had somehow appeared behind me and had just kicked me hard in the buttocks with his hard-toed leather boot.

"438, who gave you permission to stand up? Crawl over there on your knees!" Number Two yelled, kicking me hard on the other buttocks.

Ignoring the humiliation of being kicked in the buttocks by a man, I crawled on all fours, but another heavy kick landed on my buttocks.

"Up in the air! Higher! Higher!... That's right, spread your legs! Spread them even wider!... Like this, crawl over!" Following Number Two's orders, I adjusted my posture with all my might, spreading my legs wide, my large white buttocks raised high, crawling towards Number One. As I crawled, the dildo twisted and turned in my groin, causing waves of discomfort accompanied by strange stimulation, and my juices flowed freely.

Finally, I crawled to Number One.

"How lewd. A chaste and virtuous woman would rather die than adopt such a lewd posture." Number One's sarcasm made me blush with shame. A chaste and virtuous woman would surely resist to the death, but I, out of fear of punishment, offered no resistance and willingly adopted a lewd posture, even becoming wet with desire. Perhaps I am truly lewd by nature, which is why I was captured to be judged and punished. Thinking of this, I no longer had the courage to be a chaste and virtuous woman, and could only obediently submit to the punishment.

I was forced to wear a bright red metal bra. It was called a bra, but it was really just two metal rings. Wearing it made me feel completely naked, but it tightly constricted the base of my breasts. My breasts, already swollen from being whipped, became even more red, swollen, and erect from the constriction.

Then, two bright red metal nipple clamps were attached to each nipple, connected by thin metal chains. The clamps had metal tags engraved with the word "lewd" hanging from them, dangling heavily from the nipples. With the slightest movement, the metal tags swayed, dragging the entire breasts along.

"438, do you know what this is?"

I looked up and instantly recognized it—a metal chastity belt, also bright red. Chastity belts were popular for over a decade. I had previously looked up information about them out of curiosity. Women were forced to wear chastity belts, becoming the exclusive possession of men, instruments of torture that evoked shame. I never imagined that one day I would be forced to wear one myself.

"Chastity belts are everyday items for disciplining adulterous women. Let's see how you commit adultery in the future," Number One said, starting to put the chastity belt on me. First, he tightened the waist ring around my waist, then pulled the chastity belt through my crotch and locked it to the waist ring at the back. My entire genitals were now encased in metal; I couldn't even touch it, let alone commit adultery. The metal chain at the back of my crotch was deeply embedded in my buttocks, leaving my white buttocks completely exposed. The dildo that had been inserted into my genitals had slipped out during my kneeling and crawling, but now the chastity belt had pulled it back deep inside. I couldn't help but scream, but the sound from the gag turned into a moan.

"How filthy, still moaning even with a chastity belt on," Number One said, tugging at the thin chain between my nipples, causing the two metal plates to jiggle wildly. My nipples ached from the pulling, and my large, white breasts trembled.

Then I was forced to put on a pair of bright red, knee-high, high-heeled leather boots, with heels a good twenty centimeters high. Although I usually love all kinds of high heels, I had never imagined such terrifying heights. Wearing them, only my toes touched the ground, making me unsteady and putting all my weight on them. They were practically torture devices for my feet. The boot straps were tied tightly and locked at the top with a small lock, making them impossible to remove. The leather of the boots clung tightly to my skin, making my already good leg lines look even sexier, but combined with my current naked state and the torture devices, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of shame.

My long, flowing black hair was pulled back up to the top of my head and tied into a high ponytail with a long, bright red ribbon. I had read in ancient texts that prisoners convicted of serious crimes, regardless of gender, had their hair styled like this upon entering prison. This was partly for ease of torture, and partly to make them look ugly and distinctive, instantly recognizing them as serious offenders. The crime I was now convicted of, adultery, was equivalent to murder and treason in ancient times, punishable by the most humiliating execution. Then I remembered that the texts also recorded that adulterous women were imprisoned in bright red prison clothes, hence the term "adulterous color." No wonder the torture instruments used on me were all bright red.

Number One brought a thick iron chain, fastened one end to my collar, and pulled me towards the door. I took two or three steps in my torture boots before collapsing to the ground. Number One ignored me and continued dragging me out. I didn't have time to stand up and could only crawl to keep up with Number One. I didn't even have time to think about what lay beyond the door.

The moment I stepped out of the glass room, the intense light blinded me, and I was dragged along on my knees for a while with my eyes closed before I heard the command, "Stop!"

My eyes slowly adjusted to the light, and the sight that greeted me instantly horrified me, followed by unbearable shame.

Outside the glass room was a massive execution platform, and I was alone, kneeling on it. The bright light came from the spotlights surrounding the platform, shining directly on me. Below the platform sat a crowd of spectators wearing various masks, and multiple cameras were pointed at me from different angles, broadcasting live to four large screens behind the platform. One screen showed a panoramic view of the execution platform: on the enormous platform, a female prisoner was covered in lewd torture devices, her hair tied in a high ponytail, gagged, collared, wearing a bondage bra with nipple clamps, a chastity belt, and torture boots, her buttocks raised, legs spread, kneeling on the platform. The other three screens kept switching between close-up shots: a forced open mouth, swollen breasts, traces of vaginal fluid at the base of the thighs, the words "Adulterous Woman 438" engraved on the collar... I turned my head away in shame, only to discover that the glass room I had just been in was completely transparent from the outside in. Connecting this to the surveillance cameras inside the glass room... my entire interrogation had been publicly displayed without a single detail being missed.

Perhaps the public display time was over, and Number One walked to my side and announced, "Public execution begins." A waist-high torture bench was placed in front of me. The bench was wide, and my legs were spread wide apart and tied straight to the legs on either side of the bench; my shoulders were pressed down forcefully, forcing me to bend over and lower my head, my hands tied downwards to the other two legs on the bench; my abdomen pressed against the bench, my buttocks raised high in the air. I didn't know what was going on, and I strained to turn my head to look at the executioner behind me. Before I could even see clearly, everything went black. A large, thick blindfold was placed over my head and locked shut, blocking out all light. The unknown was the greatest fear. I was bound to the torture bench, unable to resist, unable to scream, unable to look, forced into a shameful position with my large, white buttocks raised high, forced to wait in the darkness as the unknown punishment descended.

"Ugh..." A sharp pain suddenly shot through my buttocks, followed by several more sharp blows. I realized I was being spanked. But because of the instrument used, I couldn't hear a sound; the excruciating pain came in rapid, continuous bursts. I couldn't help but struggle and scream, but gagged and bound, I could only groan and twist my large, unbound buttocks, completely futile in resisting the pain. What

I couldn't see was that I was being whipped with a specially made, thin, soft whip, incredibly resilient, silent when it struck, and excruciatingly painful when it fell. The whip was extremely thin, and the executioner's technique was practiced; each strike landed at a different point, precise and swift. After one lash, my entire buttocks were covered with a dense network of fine welts, each one swollen high but without breaking the skin or leaving scars.

The excruciating pain finally subsided, and just when I thought this round of punishment was over, *crack!* The instrument of torture began to fall on my buttocks again, the sound crisp and loud. I couldn't see it, but by touch, it felt like a hard board hitting my buttocks. My mind involuntarily conjured up those wide boards used specifically for spanking in period dramas. When the board fell, there was no excruciating pain, but the impact on the welts was a burning, searing pain. I imagined that at that moment, the screen on the big screen must be showing me being spanked, each welt, the trembling of my buttocks clearly visible, accompanied by the loud spanking sounds, and the strange pleasure from the dildo in my genitals as I writhed. The shame and humiliation were more unbearable than the pain itself.

I don't know how much time passed, but I felt like I had been subjected to several different instruments of torture. Tears streamed down my face, and I was too weak to groan or struggle. Only my buttocks trembled instinctively. I knew my buttocks must have been beaten until the skin was torn and bloody. I was taken off the torture bench and, as ordered, endured the pain and knelt tremblingly on the execution platform. The blindfold was removed, and I saw about a dozen different instruments of torture—whips, boards, and clappers—around me. I was horrified. Had all of these been used to beat my buttocks? I reached down and touched my buttocks. Although the skin was numb from the beatings, it felt stinging and burning to the touch, and the swelling was twice its original size, yet there wasn't a single wound bleeding or reopening.

In fact, the executioners used various instruments of torture alternately, making full use of their characteristics to control the intensity of the punishment within a range that did not damage the skin, facilitating prolonged torture and multiplying the pain for a better effect.

After the torture bench was removed, two ropes were strung across the execution platform, one taller than a person and the other a chest-high cotton rope, densely knotted with many large knots.

The executioner handcuffed me, with a short iron chain between my hands attached to the upper rope, suspending me in a hanging position. Then the executioner removed the chastity belt and the dildo; for some reason, I suddenly felt a void in my lower body. The executioner pressed the rope down to my waist, ordered me to straddle it, and then released my hands. The chest-high rope snapped back, tightly constricting my genitals and buttocks.

Next, the executioner put shackles on me. A chain in the middle connected three short shackles of different sizes from top to bottom: the large ones locked at the groin, the medium ones at the knees, and the small ones at the ankles.

After being dressed, I was ordered to walk from one end of the rope to the other.

Only when I started walking did I truly experience the pain of rope torture. Wearing torture boots and heavy shackles, walking normally was already incredibly difficult; the ropes rubbed against my genitals with every step. But that wasn't all; the most agonizing part was the dense knots that dug deep into my genitals and anus, sending shivers through my body. The pain was mixed with pleasure, an indescribable agony. I'd only managed two or three knots before my legs gave way. Perhaps because my hands were bound, I wouldn't actually fall, but the executioners were already whipping me mercilessly. Long ropes and countless knots lay before me. I struggled to my feet and continued inching forward.

One knot after another dug into my genitals, then into my anus. Tears streamed down my face, and I was drenched in sweat. My genitals, which should have been numb by now, were becoming increasingly sensitive; the pain and pleasure were becoming clearer, and even vaginal discharge was flowing, running down my thighs. I didn't know that these ropes had been soaked in a special solution to treat physical injury and numbness, and to stimulate sensation and libido.

Finally, we reached the end. The executioner removed the handcuffs and shackles and made me sit on a horizontal bar in the middle of an iron frame. The bar supported my body but offered no protection whatsoever; in fact, for someone who had just been spanked, sitting on it was pure torture. I was powerless to resist and could only obediently submit. My waist, chest, neck, and hair were all bound to the frame with restraints, and my hands were bound behind my back.

The executioner used a restraint strap to pull it tighter between my arms, forcing my shoulders to contract and my chest to thrust upwards. On either side of the horizontal bar were two long metal rods at a 90-degree angle; my legs were spread apart and bound to them, my ankles, calves, knees, and upper thighs all restrained with straps.

I was firmly bound to the metal frame with over a dozen straps, unable to even sway. The executioner seemed quite satisfied with my current state, giving my forced, thrust breasts a couple of squeezes.

A close-up shot of my crotch appeared on a large screen. My God! What a sight it was! After the rope torture, my juices were still flowing out, my entire crotch and even my inner thighs were covered in glistening, sticky fluid, and my once thick, dark pubic hair had become a sticky mess.

"You're so lewd! You don't need lubricant anymore, but a potent aphrodisiac is just right for you, it will completely expose your lewd nature." The executioner said, picking up a dildo that was thicker and longer than before, coated with a thick layer of sticky fluid.

I watched in shame and horror as the dildo slowly entered my body. Once fully inserted, I felt a strange, uncomfortable sensation, as if it were pressing against my stomach and my vagina was about to burst. Before I could even savor it, the dildo began to vibrate and rotate. My juices, already flowing from the various torture devices and aphrodisiacs, instantly reached orgasm, overwhelmed by intense pleasure. The vibrations, of course, didn't stop, but gradually increased in frequency and amplitude, sending wave after wave of even more intense pleasure through me. Unbound and unable to resist, I was forced to orgasm again and again with increasing intensity. My breathing became rapid, my body trembled, my skin flushed, and I was drenched in sweat… But the dildo continued to vibrate and rotate inside me with even greater force.

The prolonged terror, humiliation, and painful physical torture had completely exhausted my energy and strength. With each forced orgasm, I felt like I was about to die… Yet my senses remained sharp, and waves of intense pleasure surged from my lower body… I suddenly realized that for women, sex drugs and vibrators were the true tortures that could turn any chaste and virtuous woman into a wanton harlot… Another passive orgasm overwhelmed me as intense pain and pleasure washed over me, and finally, everything went black. I knew nothing more.

“Beep beep beep, beep beep beep…” I instinctively reached out and turned off the alarm clock, intending to turn over and continue sleeping. Suddenly, I snapped awake… The morning sunlight streamed into the room through the gaps in the curtains. It was a familiar room, just like when I woke up every morning. I felt no discomfort. Could it really have just been a terrible nightmare, yet it was so vivid? On the bedside table lay a blank envelope without any markings. Inside was a small key and a phone number written on the inside.

I instinctively reached up to wipe myself, but my hand froze instantly… I'd never slept naked, yet now I was completely naked—or rather, not entirely naked, because there was something around my neck… I jumped up and rushed to the mirror. My reflection was naked, wearing an exquisite, bright red leather choker engraved with "Adulterous Woman 438"…

[The End]

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[Fantasy] Lu Zi's Public Execution

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