Her Last Day.
An Illakia story by Dominica Potestas


III

When she was woken in the morning, the once gorgeous body of Ally was covered in dried shit and vomit, and she was curled up in the corner crying.  On top of all her other tortures, now came the reality that this would be her last day in this world.  And what a shithole to start it in.

	The lights in her horrible cell were flicked on only a few hours after she had been dumped in there after her mass rape.  She woke exhausted and not feeling good.  A few minutes after the lights had opened on her hell, the door suddenly opened and two guards, and Longstaff, stood there.  The men laughed at her state.

	"Fucking disgusting whore," said a guard.

	"It's alright, we'll get a slave to sort this room out," Longstaff reassured the guard.  "You, bitch," he said to Ally, "let's get you cleaned up for your final performance."

	The guards treaded in carefully and picked up the weak form of Ally by her armpits, and dragged her to the shower room she had been in before her rape.  She was dumped in the corner and the cold water was turned on, covering her body dumped on the floor.  She moaned as the piercing cold hit her, but she had no strength to neither shield herself nor move out the way.  She was shouted at to wash herself by the guards, but as she did nothing, one of the guards took it upon himself to wash her down with a sponge.  A few minutes later, she was cleaned of all evidence of rape, shit eating or vomit.

	She lay shivering on the tiled floor.  It was beginning to hit her frazzled mind that she was about to die.  In shock, she merely lay where she was.  Nothing mattered anymore.

	"I'm going to enjoy watching you die, traitor whore," Longstaff said, standing over her.  "Execution's in an hour; get her prepped."

***

	Perhaps one the cruellest aspects of public executions was that the condemned were forced to be made up, so that they looked their best for the baying crowd.  Ally remembered how she used to think how thoughtful it was of the Imperial Guard to have the condemned looking their best for the crowd.  Now she was sat in front of a mirror, done up as she was last night, just minutes away from her own death, she realised how heartless it was for to make her look like this as such a sombre time.

	She had been made up by the slaves again, and was now caged in a holding room, more or less the same size as her original cell, except that it had two doors at either end and was flanked on one side by a one-way mirror.

	Naked, hair curled and painted like a tart, she paced up and down this hole, trying to compose her mind.  Would she die with dignity?  Would the men allow her the final mercy of a last meal?  She still clung to the thought that Drew would come riding in, explaining that she was innocent, sparing her life.  In reality she knew enough about Illakian law to know that even if such a miraculous event happened, her sub-humanisation was permanent and could not be overturned, even if it was discovered she was innocent.  Her fate was sealed.

	Captain Longstaff watched the girl from behind the glass.  Miraculously, Ally looked as good as new again, despite all the tortures of the past few days.  He was sure her body would please the crowd today.  He sat and watched her lithe body pace up and down, remembering sweetly how good it felt to have that body in his grasp.

	He watched as the door opened to the holding cell.  The girl jumped expectantly.  There was no great fanfare, just a staff corporal being ushered in to fit the prisoner with the traditional white loincloth.  The traditional clothing of a sub-human, it is how she will be presented, before she dies naked as custom dictates.

	The corporal ordered Ally to don the loincloth, as he threw it on the floor.  She looked at the garment as he left.  It was almost more humiliating to have to wear this skimpy outfit than nothing at all, mostly because of what it symbolised, and partly because it just drew attention to her lack of attire.  Reluctantly, she picked it and wrapped it round her hips.  At least she had a small shred of privacy now.  She glanced at the mirror.

	Longstaff inhaled as he caught Ally's sad eyes look at him through the glass.  He was a sadistic bastard and he loved his job.



Want to write stories or roleplay in Illakia? Contact me at dominicapotestas[at]hotmail.co.uk
