Jennifer

Story codes: M/f, Execution, Hanging, Rape, Snuff
Copyright 2006 Rachael Ross all rights reserved

Jennifer
by Rachael

Part 1

They were hanging pregnant women now and who's to say why?

Not me certainly, I didn't make the laws. I merely enforced them and while I admired such women for their courage, my husband simply berated them for being foolish and weak. They were unable to control their animal desires to reproduce, he said, or unwilling. Not that it mattered to him or the state, there was little difference to be had there and the supreme court had ruled that biological imperative was not a legal defense they would consider.

My husband pulled his penis from my vagina slowly and rolled over onto his back, breathing hard and coughing just a little. I reached down between my legs, spreading my lips and pushing a finger inside. It was that moment I teased myself with, the razor's edge between fear and desire. I was empty, as I knew already of course. The wetness I felt was my own, anything else imagined. My husband's condom hadn't broken, he hadn't flooded my fertile womb with his potent seed. I opened my eyes and looked at him, flushed and sweating and smiling. He was handsome and older, more than twice my 24 years, but still strong enough, virile enough to give me a good hard fuck several times a week.

"It didn't break." I said softly and that just made him laugh.

"Maybe next time, Jen." He opened one eye and looked at me. "Don't even think about it."

"What?" I opened my blue eyes wide and brushed a strand of long blonde hair from my face.

"I know what you're thinking. A little tear, a tiny rip..." He shook his head. "They have tests for that, and even then the test is wrong 10% of the time. One girl in 10 is strung up because of a bad rubber..."

"I know..." But he wasn't finished.

"...the other nine are there because they broke the law."

"I know that." I sighed and moved down the bed so I could remove his condom, being careful not to spill my husband's sperm and wondering if it was still alive.

"Then be glad the rubber didn't break, honey. I'd hate to arrest you..."

"But you'd do it, wouldn't you." I licked my lips, holding the rubber with its cream colored contents up to the light, squinting at it as if I might see something swimming inside.

"Bet that sweet little ass of yours I would." He chuckled, "And if you were guilty I'd jerk you myself."

"But not until I was big, right?" I asked, "You'd do that much for me right?"

"Law says 30 weeks." he reached over to the nightstand for a cigarette, lighting it slowly and the old tobacco crackled a little. "Seven and a half months..." He exhaled a cloud of blue smoke, "...so yeah, I'd give you time."

I got up, moving to the bathroom to drop the condom in the toilet and wash myself, thinking carefully about my husband's words. We both knew the law, but I still liked to hear him explain it to me as if I were just another housewife. It had become my latest fantasy, playing the innocent and expectant mother. My husband knew this, of course, and he indulged me in the hopes that it would satisfy me enough that I wouldn't do anything foolish. Anything stupid and illegal, like pushing that condom he'd just filled into my loose sex, squeezing the contents out and pushing it inside me with my fingers. That would be immoral according to society, downright irresponsible if not entirely ant-social.

I held the condom for a long moment, staring at it while my other hand explored the taut flatness of my belly. I was empty inside and every part of me hated it. I needed to be filled. First with my husband's sperm and then later with his child. A new life inside me, growing into a son perhaps, a boy to replace his father. Or a daughter with ice blue eyes and long blonde hair to succeed me in youth and beauty and...Wisdom perhaps? My thoughts faltered and my willpower with them. I dropped the condom with a gentle splash and flushed quickly, turning my face away so I wouldn't see it swirling out of sight forever.

"Good girl." My husband was standing in the doorway and he turned as I caught his eye with a guilty look.

=================

"I was raped! It isn't fair! I didn't do anything wrong!" The girl was young, still in high school and her trial had been a quick one.

"Shhh..." I shook my head at her. "Sarah Jameson, you've been found guilty of unlawful pregnancy through willful misconduct. At the conclusion of your trial a specific date and time was determined for the full and complete execution of your sentence..."

"Take my baby...take it...please...take the baby..." She was crying now, the way some of them did, falling to her knees in the cell and sobbing, her words muffled by her hands as she covered her face.

"...That time has now come." I finished reading the small card, which I hadn't really read at all since I knew the words by heart. Only the names changed.

"...my b-baby...take the baby..." She was a sad one, which wasn't surprising given her youth. Pretty too, even with her red rimmed eyes and puffy lips. She was brunette and pale, with soft brown eyes and small firm breasts above the impressive swell of her abdomen. She was 30 weeks to the day and now her life was almost over.

"Abortion is illegal." Her spiritual aide, a middle-aged nun in the crimson habit of the Order of St. Daphne, spoke to the girl gently. "They can't take your child, Sarah, you must bear it unto Heaven. 'For whoever shall forsake the unborn must herself be born again, from the womb of damnation through the blood of our Savior...' "

I didn't listen to the nun, but rather concentrated on getting the girl to her feet. It was a short walk for anyone but the condemned and once in awhile it would take two or even three of us to move a woman to the gallows, but usually not. A girl like Sarah was broken, you could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. She wouldn't fight and even if she did I would have very little trouble taking her down by myself. The quiet ones were the girls to watch, the sullen type who hid behind tight lips and staring eyes. Those sort were trouble of the worst kind. The best were the Daphnae, those women who had gotten pregnant deliberately and welcomed the noose as if it were the rapture. They usually went in the second trimester, around 5 months when they really started showing nice. Those girls just didn't have the patience for going the distance and a lot of them petitioned to have their dates moved up, but of course that was denied usually.

St. Daphne herself had been a professor at Harvard, and the first woman hung for willful civil disobedience when she'd gotten pregnant two days after the law had been passed. She turned herself in and pleaded guilty after a rather long and impassioned statement that God Himself was calling her to heaven. The child growing in her womb was His chosen method of delivery, or so she claimed, because conception required a spark of the divine. I'm a Social Agnostic of course, since I'm a government official, so I don't really know all the details about St. Daphne and her followers.

They have their own churches, where women are impregnated by the priests during mass. They have their own bibles, filled with words about pregnancy making a woman righteous in the eyes of God, and how carrying an unborn child into the afterlife secures a place in heaven for the both of them. They have their own nuns, like the sister on which Sarah was leaning for support, who often found themselves pregnant, which was a curiosity in itself. The nuns always pleaded not guilty, unlike the other Daphnae, saying that their conception was divine in nature. God, not men, had made the sisters pregnant, if you can believe that. The Supreme Court plainly did not, and neither did the state, having executed some 2 dozen nuns over the last 6 years or so. Even so, the women went happily, which was always good news for me.

"I was raped...It wasn't my fault..." The girl was still talking, her arm over the nun's shoulder as they walked slowly together towards the light.

The Cellars, which was what we called the underground holding facility, was lit well enough with fluorescent lights in the ceilings, but just down the long hall was the stairs leading up and into the Courtyard where the executions took place. That was outdoors and the sunlight was reflected brilliantly from the white painted walls surrounding it, so that the stairwell was illuminated almost painfully. I had a pair of sunglasses that I wore, just for that reason, and as we approached the stairs I slipped them on while Sarah winced and covered her eyes, the nun just looked down and squinted I think, reading from her bible.

I followed them up without a word, focusing my gaze on the tight round butt of the girl ahead of me. Her swollen tummy arched her back nicely, forcing her to keep herself straight, although the fear and hopelessness she was feeling made that even harder than normal. Still, she did try if only for the sake of comfort, and I appreciated the view of her hips moving left and right with every step the girl took. Her large tummy moving as well, so that it appeared to move the opposite direction. When her right hip moved out and up, her tummy appeared on the left, another step and there it was on the right. It was sexy, I thought, very attractive and I wondered if the girl could appreciate her beautiful form.

Outside it was bright, almost blinding the way the sun reflected off the high walls of the courtyard. It was round and barely a hundred meters in diameter, 20 meters high and topped with electrified razor wire. It wasn't there for the prisoners, since the walls were smooth and no woman even a few months pregnant could hope to scale them. It was simply a necessary precaution against a public which contained both persons who wanted to watch, and persons who wanted to interfere. The gallery itself was composed of a hundred people selected at random to witness the execution as required by law. The parents of the girl were there, of course, as were any brothers or sisters. In some places one of Sarah's relatives, either her father or a brother, would have performed the actual execution. But in this state we used professional executioners.

The executioner was male, as required by law, and he had a passion for his job, as most of them did. Executing pregnant women was something a man either responded to enthusiastically, or shunned completely. There seemed to be no middle ground and a lot of money had been spent trying to figure out why. It didn't bother me any, to tell the truth, and I suppose if I'd been a man I would have enjoyed being the executioner. I liked being one of the guards, I knew that much. I enjoyed being around the prisoners; it was exciting and filled me with a sexual thrill that I found difficult to explain. Even as I walked Sarah up the platform, a large structure some ten meters high and 20 meters square, I could feel my sex growing moist.

There were 3 women hanging there already, swaying in the sun and breeze. Their swollen bellies pulling them down more than you might expect. I'd walked with each of them that morning and my favorite had been Lisa, the little 13 year old who'd played doctor with her cousin once too often. She'd been a beautiful child, with light hair and perfect teeth. I'd soothed her all week, as best I could, stroking her tummy and listening to her talk. She wasn't much for crying, not until the very end, and she had a wild and beautiful imagination. I'd fallen in love with the girl, I think, as had most of the guards. The executioners too, who always examined the accused carefully, had been forced to draw lots as they were all eager to be Lisa's executioner.

The guy who'd done it, an older man named Arthur, had noosed her slowly, determined to make it last. The deterrent effects of hanging a girl like Lisa were unquestioned, so he'd lifted her off her feet and let her struggle as she was strangled for a long minute or two, then he'd let her back down, giving the child a few precious gulps of air before hoisting her off her toes once more. He did this a dozen times, until blood was running down her small puffy breasts and the smooth pale swell of her tummy. Lisa's neck was chafed raw by the rope and her eyes were shot with blood and burst capillaries from the repeated pressure of the noose. Finally Arthur hauled the girl up and secured the rope, then he took pretty Lisa in the ass, raping her as it was his right to do in front of a hundred people including the girl's parents and younger sister. He fucked her while I watched and tried to rub my clit discreetly through my uniform. It was always incredible, that part of the execution, and Lisa only made it better. She jerked for a long time, that little girl, shuddering as she was impaled on Arthur's thick cock over and over until the air in her brain finally ran out.

Now Sarah was here, equally beautiful if only a little older, and I hoped she could hold her breath a good long time. I knelt in front of her, pushing the girl's legs apart so I could insert her fetal plug. It had happened before that the traditional method of hanging, dropping the accused so that the neck was broken, sometimes resulted in the unborn baby being forced out of the womb. The sudden stop at the end of the rope didn't necessarily stop everything else inside the mother, and so we lifted the women now, raising them off their feet and strangling them. But that too raised problems, like any form of physical and emotional trauma does, being strangled could induce labor and while that wasn't really a big deal, some of those women managed to give birth while they died.

In order to avoid that legal and literal mess the state had adopted the fetal plug. Some places liked the old method of sewing the vagina shut, but the state supreme court had ruled that sewing a woman's vagina closed, even by a certified doctor, constituted cruel and unusual punishment. The fetal plug was a rubber device that I inserted into Sarah's vagina, it was long and had 3 bulging rings around the length of the device. The tip was nearly 16 inches from the base and designed to penetrate the cervix, which could be very painful I know, since I'd tried it on myself once. But it was momentary and caused no permanent damage to the body and so the courts had said it was fine.

I used a generous amount of lubricant and used my fingers on Sarah's vagina first, trying to relax and loosen the girl a little. She'd only had sex once, or so she claimed, and I think I believed her, although a jury of her peers hadn't. She was dry and tight and I could feel her body tighten, her muscles contracting as I pushed and pulled three fingers back and forth in her cunt. Some girls get incredibly wet when they approach the gallows, especially the followers of St. Daphne. They were practically cumming as soon as we took them from their cells. Even some of the non-believers could get aroused, either by the fear, or the environment, or something in their personalities, I didn't know. But a lot of girls were like Sarah, too frightened and straight-laced to enjoy the moment, and that was too bad.

Once I had her nice and wet and as loose as she was ever going to get, I inserted the long thin tip of the plug, pressing it inside her slowly while she shivered and wept. The device widened quickly and soon I was pushing up hard, grunting with the effort while Sarah screamed and tried to get away from the ever increasing pressure in her tender sex. But there was no place for her to go, the executioner had her in his tight grip, pressing his body against her back so she could feel his hard cock and dimly hear the words he was whispering in her ear. The executioners wore nothing but boots and hoods, and a cock ring in the case of this man, a well built fellow named Paul.

Once the plug was in Sarah completely the girl relaxed a little, or at least stopped struggling quite so much. Her head was down, staring at me and I could feel her tears falling like the odd drop of rain before a storm. They landed on my neck and shoulders and I ignored them, using the can of air I carried on my utility belt to inflate the fetal plug. It was quick like that, taking less than a few seconds before the rubber was stretching Sarah's vagina beyond anything she'd ever known in her young life. The ring shaped bulges would press outward, like locks pressing into her flesh to hold the plug secure. It was rather like the knotted muscle of a dog when he mates, swelling inside the bitch's vagina so it's impossible for them to separate. Sarah was plugged now and she could go into labor if she wanted, there was simply no place for the child to go. If her water broke, we'd have no sign of it. She could even dilate if she wanted, as much as 17 centimeters, which was very unlikely to happen, and the plug would remain in place.

I kissed Sarah's tummy and put my hand on it as I stood slowly. She was hot and wet with perspiration and I felt her baby kicking, which made me gasp and smile and I stared into Sarah's eyes, sharing that special moment with her. My next and final task was to tie the girl's hands behind her back. We used thin rope made of course hemp, like the rope that would soon be around her neck. It was strong and flexible enough without a lot of spring to it. It always seemed oddly aesthetic to me, rather old fashioned in a way that some people could certainly appreciate.

Sarah didn't resist and I tied her quickly, having had quite a lot of practice over the last few years. I didn't keep track of the numbers I helped execute; I had no interest in that. Some people did, the executioners especially since they received a bonus periodically. Guards like me didn't.

Then I had to move, taking my place at the side of the platform, standing next to the nun who read from her book and tried to give Sarah some small comfort in these last moments. The young woman sobbed and looked around as the executioner placed the noose around her neck. He adjusted it carefully, making sure the knot wouldn't press on her carotid artery and getting the rope high under her chin. She would strangle slowly like that, remaining conscious while her body exhausted its life.

The rope went up and through a pulley and down again. It was simple and effective and all the executioners were strong men, and eager to exercise their strength. Paul's cock bobbed in front of him, swollen and dark and leaking precum as he grasped the rope in his big calloused hands. He wasted no time, pulling hard and there was a collective gasp as Sarah was pulled a foot from the platform. The noose was tight and perfectly placed and the girl's neck seemed to stretch a few precious inches as her face turned naturally downward to face the crowd. Her legs kicked and the rope creaked loudly, the pulley clanging dully against the heavy beam it was attached to.

The executioner tied her off, judging her height to be perfect and he moved quickly, grabbing Sarah's flailing legs, spreading and lifting them, bending her body until he could penetrate her ass with his prick, shoving himself forward and spearing the girl's once virgin anus dry. He liked it like that, being able to look in her eyes while he fucked her, holding her ankles and feeling the girl kick uselessly against her fate. He's done this many, many times and I think if I was going to be executed, Paul was the man I'd want doing it.

Other executioners, like Arthur, took a girl from behind, giving the crowd a good show. But Sarah couldn't see the people anymore; all she could see was the black hood of her executioner. Her body was convulsing and the spasms must have felt nice for Paul. He was fucking her ass hard, driving himself deep with every thrust and pulling back far enough that blood could spill out from her torn rectum, running down to drip from Paul's heavy balls as the swung back and forth. It was intense and I rubbed the crotch of my trousers without shame.

It took several minutes before Sarah finally died. Her mouth was gaping and her tongue pink and swollen was pushed out over her pale lip. The girl's eyes were wide and bulging as well, staring slightly upward so that the last thing she saw was probably the rope pulled tight above her. Her face was red and lovely to look at and I stared at the girl until Paul finally groaned and announced his orgasm, pulling the pregnant corpse tight against him as he filled her ass with his sperm.

In the crowd there were cheers mixed with the sound of weeping, but mostly it was just hushed conversation, and it sounded like distant birds to my ears. I was soaked and breathless and after Paul had finished and pulled his cock free, I walked over to the girl, running my hand down her face and neck and to her tummy, feeling the stillness there. It always amazed me.

"Come on, now..." Paul said, standing there impatiently.

I had one final task and that was to clean the executioner, always good for me, but especially after watching Sarah die as she had. I dropped to my knees and took Paul's penis into my mouth. He was still hard and he put a hand on the back of my head, pushing forward rudely with his hips until the swollen head banged against the entrance to my throat. It made me cough a little and gag around him, but that was just the way he was, I knew. I could taste the remains of Sarah's ass, her musky odor filled my nose and the acrid flavor of her rectum colored the salty taste of Paul's cum. I could taste the girl's blood too, and Paul's cock had been smeared pink with it. I swallowed thickly, savoring every sensation and it was only reluctantly that I let the man go once he was satisfied.

"When are you gonna be noosed, Jen?" Paul pulled off his hood, taking grateful breaths of cool air as our execution ritual was finally ended.

"Me?" I licked my lips. "Never, you know we're careful." I remained there, looking up at him, wishing Paul didn't need to save his sperm for the next execution.

"Heh, I know you want it. You got the look, girl, like you just can't wait to feel that rope." He extended a hand to help me up and I took it. "You oughta join the sisterhood." He jerked his head at the blood red figure of the nun making her way down the stairs slowly.

"Nah, I like my husband too much to get a divorce." I grinned. "Besides, they only take virgins."

"Well, you ain't no virgin." Paul checked Sarah's body and the rope, making sure she was secure before we left the platform.

"No, I'm not." I agreed. "How many more you got scheduled today?"

"Me? None." Paul looked at me. "Why?"

"Uh, just wondering." I looked around. "I could um, finish you off, if you wanted...I mean, that thing looks painful." I stared at his rock hard penis and then glanced up into Paul's face with an impish grin.

"I could finish you off too, girl. I don't waste my balls in a woman's mouth." He gripped his cock in his hand, giving it a little squeeze. "You want this you gotta bend over, Jen."

"What? You mean in my ass?" I blinked at him, thinking that might hurt a lot...but maybe not too much.

Paul chuckled and shook his head. "The other hole, way up inside. You wanna play with fire, let's make it a good one."

I felt my heart skip a beat in my breast and a sudden flash of heat rolled through me. "You mean you want to fuck me." I nodded slowly. "I'm not protected."

"That's my point." Paul took a step closer until his stiff cock was pressed against my uniform, against my tummy underneath. "You're husband ain't gonna do it, is he?"

"No." I said softly, shaking my head.

"He's playing it safe, taking no chances..." Paul shrugged. "That's true love, ain't it?"

"Yeah." I said, trying to remember how much I loved my husband.

"So why do you want to get knocked up so bad, huh?" He was touching me, Paul's hands on my hips, moving around to my ass, squeezing me, pulling me closer until I could kiss his muscular chest.

"I don't know." I whispered and knowing that was the truth of it.

"Because you want to feel it, don't you?" He was cradling me, kissing the top of my head. "You want to feel that baby kicking and then you want to feel the rope. Dying with a life inside you, Jen, I see it every day. Girls just like you, so hungry for it..."

"No, I'm not...I just..."

"Go on, ask me, Jen. Ask me to put a baby in your belly so I can take it away again in 30 weeks. Ask me, baby, beg me for it and I'll give it to you..."

"Oh please..." I was panting and my knees were weak. he knew me, this man who'd killed a thousand girls and looked into the eyes and souls of every single one. He knew me and it frightened me more than anything ever had before in my life.

"Say it, Jen...I'll fuck you nice, you'll feel it...Hot sperm in your womb, baby, a million of them looking for your egg. Come on, you know you want it..."

"N-No...No...I have to...I have to go, I'm...I...can't..." I pushed away from the man, ignoring his cruel laughter and practically running from the platform, back towards the stairway leading to the Cellar and safety.

"You will, Jen, you will..." Paul's voice fell away from me and I sat in the shadows, back in Sarah's now empty cell, weeping softly.

end part 1
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