Old laws, new ways (FUTA/F, SIZE, GORE)

Story by lustepic

Hi, something I wrote while wrestling with my other story Mothers of my mother.

I'm still without proof reader and my writing skills haven't improved that much.

Still I bore you with this.

Proceed with caution and at your own risk.

Following tale is from world similar and very dissimilar to our. Harsher and darker place it has laws that have been in effect for a long time and following them is seen as only means of survival by inhabitants no matter how absurd they might be.

One of the old laws state that those sentenced to death have right to choose their mode of execution if said mode is judged possible by college of judges no matter the costs. This had some times made startling advancements available quite outside original purpose.

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Standing and looking out of window with thick shiny bars, into dark desolate landscape outside, she waited sun to rise and ordained moment to arrive. She had been preparing for this duty last four cycles, a moon month, and idea to sit down to wait didn’t even enter her mind.

First ray of sun struck brilliant gleam from prison’s main building’s roof to strike at window she was standing.

—Knock, knock— came from the door.

“Madam Executioner, it is time.” Spoke stern voice behind door.

Turning and gazing over herself and equipments spread on table, she judged herself ready for the task ahead. Donning and tying elaborate knot to sash, on ceremonial robe reaching to floor and made from black silk, carefully, she then picked up mask depicting blind justice from table and pressed and secured it on her face. Collecting also “hood”, “grease” and “rope” from table she began sliding her feet along floor with small measured distances towards door, which was opened from outside at her approach. From this point forward the ritual demanded her not to touch anything else than what she was already carrying until she arrived at their destination and her task began.

Other side of the door waiting for her stood short grey haired woman with harsh visage, clipboard in her gloved hands, official supervisor and coroner.

At the same moment she stepped out of her door to gallery looking at narrow courtyard, from similar open door on gallery across the court, procession stepped out.

Four burly female guards, each easily twice the mass of hooded woman prisoner, with chains on hands and legs, was being led in middle of them.

With same measured pace parties moved on both sides of separating court and arrived shortly to galleries end and thick doors there opening into same room.

Guards led prisoner into middle of room and removed her robe, reveling a tall striking looking woman. They then secured her hands and feet with chains into rails on two metal pillars, in spread-eagled position, before moving to close foot thick metal doors made to prevent anything, also sounds, escaping from room, securing and setting their seals under supervisors monitoring, prior to taking standing positions in rooms four corners facing into walls.

Supervisor went to stand behind small pulpit along wall and placed her clipboard on it.

“Is Executioner ready for her duty?” Supervisor intoned in sing song voice as ritual demanded.

“Executioner is ready.” She replied in as deep voice as she could.

“I now read the verdict.” Supervisor continued.

“Judgment 31415926535897 for inmate number 271828183: you, inmate number 271828183, have been sentenced to death for your heinous and repeated crimes, said penalty to be carried out on this day and time.”

“You, inmate number 271828183, have exercised your right to choose the mode of your execution. May powers above and below have mercy when they judge you.”

“Madam Executioner, you may proceed.” Supervisor concluded.

“Does the prisoner want the use of ‘hood’?” She asked, as was custom.

Supervisor consulted her clipboard.

“No.”

She placed large packet containing specially made condom to fit her from her hands on first slot on pulpit. She wouldn’t need to use it, which was relief.

“Does the prisoner want the use of ‘grease’?”

“Yes.”

She placed large jar on second slot on pulpit and opened it. Using grease made things easier to her also.

“Does the prisoner want to examine the ‘rope’?”

“Yes.”

Lastly she placed long knotted rope in last slot. Most people had the need for morbid curiosity, she had found out.

Questions asked and answered she turned to face prisoner hanging in middle of the room.

Prisoner was a tall, beautiful, strong-limbed woman with large firm breasts and narrow waist above generous hips.

Proud, defiant and confident at her choices prisoner stared at her.

Slowly she opene

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