Death of a Princes
© Old Nick’s Man 2005

Although this story is designed to shock, its content will be
even more shocking when readers learn that all of the indignities
suffered by Jess and her lover are based on actual punishments
inflicted upon prisoners by European regimes over the past few
centuries.

Hanging, drawing and quartering was the standard punishment for
treason in England for a surprisingly long time. Guy (or Guido)
Fawkes suffered it following the gunpowder plot and it was
routinely performed in public as a warning to other potential
traitors.

The removal of breasts and impaling of female prisoners was
common in Central and Eastern Europe for centuries.

There are certain countries where this type of punishment still
continues – officially and unofficially - even today.


*****


“Prisoners in the dock...” The Law Lord’s voice was slow, clear
and cold. “You have been found guilty by your peers of the most
heinous crime of High Treason.”


Princess Jessica, the old Prince’s young wife, stood emotionless
in the bright sunlight that flooded the court room. Her long
blonde hair positively shone in the morning sunshine; her pale
skin and slender frame giving her an undeserved waiflike
appearance.

Next to her stood the upright but badly damaged body of the man
she had just been rightly convicted of taking as her lover. Guy
had been cruelly tortured into signing a confession which had
quickly led to their joint trial and now their joint
condemnation.

For the wife of a Prince, the taking of a lover was the ultimate
act of treason, casting doubt on the divine lineage of the royal
family and its succession. Such a crime could only lead to death!

The judge’s voice was low and commanding.


“For this, a most wicked crime, there can be only one
punishment.” The Law Lord placed a black cap over his ludicrous
grey wig and stared into the eyes of the two cowering lovers.

“You will be taken from this place to the Tower, where you will
be confined until your execution. At the appointed time, you will
be taken from there to the place for public executions where you
will be hanged by the neck until you are within an inch of your
life.”

Guy’s knees buckled underneath him as the words struck home. The
guards held him firmly, facing the terrible judgment.

“Your worthless bodies will be cut down while still alive and
mutilated in the manner prescribed by the law.”

Jess’ knees trembled at the thought of this, but she held herself
upright and dignified.

“Your heads will then be struck from your necks and your bodies
displayed as an example to others. All this is to take place
within 24 hours.”


“But my Lord….” Began Jess.


“Silence, traitor!” The Law Lord bellowed, then to the guard,
ordered “Take them away!”


The uniformed guards roughly dragged the two condemned criminals
through the thick oak door and down the long corridor to the
holding cell where, for a few seconds, they were locked in
together.

Alone at last, probably for the last time, they ran to each
other’s arms. Guy winced as she hugged him close, the injuries
from his hours of torture still acutely painful.


“Guy!” Jess burst out. “I’m so sorry!”


“Sorry for what, Jess? We fell in love. That’s all that we did.”


“But if I’d been any one else – anyone at all – we wouldn’t be
here now!”


Guy laughed mirthlessly.

“Trust me to fall for the wife of the Prince; the one person in
the whole country with whom making love means treason!”


The door burst open and rough hands pulled them apart, bundling
them through the door and away to their separate cells in the
Tower to await the morning’s terrible fate.



*****


Dawn had broken over two hours ago.

Jess paced the floor of her cell as she listened to the crowd’s
cheering and calling in the square outside. She knew her lover
had gone before her and that the horrible, heart rending sounds
floating towards her were caused by the agonies he was enduring
in full view of the populace.

The sentence for treason was well known if seldom used – hanging,
drawing and quartering. She felt sick in her stomach as she
pictured Guy’s fit, athletic body on the tall wooden platform
kept permanently in the square for the weekly executions.

First he would have been stripped naked and publicly flogged
until his back, legs and buttocks bled. Then his hands and arms
would be tied behind his back, his ankles tied together and a
noose would be put around his neck. He would be hoisted from the
ground and hung slowly for as much as a quarter of an hour,
kicking and wriggling until he was almost dead.

Then he would have been lowered to the platform for the
mutilations.


These were ritualistic and symbolic, as well as being barbaric.
First his penis and scrotum would be cut off with a knife and
burned before his eyes to signify that he had failed to
impregnate the future queen and to show that his loins could
never produce more traitorous offspring.

Next his belly would be split open and his guts cut out and
burned to show that he and his kind were men of no bowels.

His disembowelled body, still alive, would then be slipped under
the guillotine to await any final, special torment the Prince
determined as necessary for the condemned criminal, before the
blade fell and severed his head from his body.

The head would then be displayed on a spike above Traitors’ Gate
and his body displayed either whole in the square or in quarters
above the four main gates of the city until it had either rotted
or been eaten by the crows.


And then it would be her turn.


Jess felt tears running down her cheeks as she heard the crowd’s
roar and the smell of burning flesh wafted across the square to
assault her nostrils. A short while later she heard the sound of
metal sliding against metal followed by the biggest roar yet from
the crowd as, she guessed, Guy’s head was held up to demonstrate
that the execution had been carried out.

They would be coming for her soon, she knew. Jess dropped to her
knees and begged forgiveness.


*****


Half an hour later, Jess was stumbling on the slippery cobbles as
she was led through the crowd towards the high platform that made
up the scaffold on which she was to be executed. Her hands were
tied loosely in front of her and her ankles chained together. Her
luxuriant blonde hair had been roughly cut short; her warm,
French-styled dress replaced by a simple white shift through
which, to her horror her body was clearly visible; she was
barefoot.

Jess raised her eyes from the floor to gaze at the scaffold.
Surrounded by the drunken, cheering crowd, it stood a good twenty
feet above their heads to allow those at the back to get a good
view. It was a simple wooden platform with a rail around its
edge, and a large beam crossing its width about eight feet above
the floor.

Ropes dangled from the beam. Jess saw to her horror that one of
the ropes was a noose. Her noose! Her knees went weak and she
slowed, but the soldiers behind pushed her roughly forwards.


Minutes later, she was haltingly mounting the steps to the
scaffold with a dozen lances pointed at her rear in case she
thought to escape. She stumbled on the slippery stairs but
quickly recovered her step as she reached the platform where the
huge, masked executioner and his two equally heavily masked
assistants awaited her.

Jess looked around her in terror. The castle square was a sea of
faces, all staring up at her. They were not friendly. The Royal
Lord Chamberlain, in full dress uniform, stood at the front and,
as the crowd was waved silent, began to read aloud the warrant
for her execution.

Jess couldn’t listen closely, but a few words did penetrate her
fuddled brain.


“…..for the traitorous crime of infidelity to the
crown…….bringing hazard to the royal lineage…..showing no
remorse…..justly put to death…..”


The Chamberlain turned and handed her the scroll on which the
warrant for her death was written. Jess didn’t even look at it;
letting it fall to the floor by her side. She looked around
again, and her legs tried to give way under her.

She staggered, but was held firm by the executioner’s assistants.


She raised her head from her chest. Suddenly she screamed in
horror as she saw, to her right, the severed head of her former
lover Guy high above the platform, impaled on a long spike. His
eyes were dull and lifeless. Jess felt alone and friendless and
very sick.


“….so it is the will of God and his Majesty that I command the
executioner to carry out the sentence this thirteenth day of
September in the year of our lord,,,,,,”


The Chamberlain stood to the side of the platform to ensure the
sentence was carried out to the precise letter of the law and,
Jess suspected, to watch gleefully as she, his hated enemy,
finally received the punishment he had fought so hard to bring
her.

Jess hated the Chamberlain as strongly as he hated her. Her crime
against him? Nothing but to catch the Prince’s eye more
successfully than his own daughter had been able to do. It had
been Jess that the Prince had wooed and married, not his own
sweet Elizabeth. It had been Jess that the Prince had taken to
his bed and whose virginity he had stripped away.

But it had also been Jess who the soldiers had caught in the bed
of the Prince’s young and handsome cousin, Guy. It was Jess who
was now to meet her undignified fate in the full gaze of the low,
beetling common folk.

Jess thought bitterly that Elizabeth would probably have taken
her place in the Prince’s bed before her own executed body had
grown cold. Elizabeth’s virgin blood would have been spilled on
the clean white sheets before her own blood had stopped flowing
onto this coarse, wooden scaffold. The Chamberlain would have won
after all.


“Prisoner!” The executioner was grunting at her. “Prisoner!”

Jess was dragged from her reverie and stared into his masked
face. Terror began to spread through her body.

“I am to carry out the sentence commanded by the law.” He
sneered. “Do you have anything to say to me before sentence
begins?” Jess knew what he wanted and had come prepared.
Concealed in her hand was a small leather bag which jingled as
she handed it to the executioner who weighed it in his palm.

“I suppose it will do – if it’s really all gold!” He laughed.


He stepped back to let the crowd see the prisoner properly. Jess
stood meekly in the centre of the high platform. Her
short-cropped hair shone like gold in the sunlight. Her white
shift glowed bright. It looked almost as if an angel had landed
in the midst of this scene of horror. The crowd fell silent, in
awe. Jess’s chest rose and fell as she breathed heavily.

The effect was suddenly shattered as, with a mighty tearing
sound, the executioner tore Jess’ shift from her body. She
screamed in pain and surprise and, realising she was now naked in
full public gaze, tried to cover her modesty with her hands.

The executioner barked a command and his two assistants grabbed
her arms and, drawing one of the dangling ropes towards her,
secured it firmly to her slender wrists. The rope was pulled and
Jess found her arms jerked upwards above her head until her toes
could only just reach the floor beneath her.


In a vain attempt to protect her dignity, Jess bent her knees and
tried to turn and hide her breasts, but to no avail. She dangled
by her wrists from the overhead beam, her young, pale naked body
exposed for the waiting and eager crowd to see. Her large, soft,
young breasts swung freely, her large nipples erect in the cool
air. The small pale triangle of blonde pubic hair excited much
bawdy interest from the youths in the front few rows.

Jess felt ashamed, more even than when the soldiers had burst in
of her and Guy in the full act of making love and had separated
their wet, sticky bodies by force. She felt light headed, but was
brought back to full consciousness by the Chamberlain’s droning
voice.


“….for the avoidance of all doubt, as with thieves and fools,
traitors must be branded so that the world can know their true
nature……”


This was something Jess had not expected. Something newly
invented by the cruel, twisted minds of the Prince’s bodyguard.
She looked wildly around her and saw the executioner standing at
an iron brazier at the platform’s edge. The coals in the brazier
glowed red as he poked them with a long metal pole. He pulled the
pole out of the embers and, turning, walked towards Jess, his
eyes fixed on hers.

Jess could not tear her gaze away from the red hot glow at the
end of the pole. Forged in the shape of the letter T, the heat
emanating from it was intense. The executioner held it up to her
face. Jess felt its scorching metallic heat close to her cheek.
Her knees went weak and she pulled on the rope to support
herself.

The executioner leered at her horribly, holding the hot metal
closer and closer to her cheek. Jess steeled herself for its
terrible burning.

One second later she screamed out into the crowd’s delighted roar
as the executioner suddenly lowered the pole’s tip and pressed
its red hot end into the flesh of her right buttock. There was a
horrible hissing, crackling sound as her skin burned. The bolt of
pain shot through Jess’ suspended body and her nostrils filled
with the smell of her own burning flesh. She felt as if she would
faint. The executioner held the tip hard against her skin until
its forged end had burned its way deep into her buttock. Her
burning skin melted onto its T shaped head and stuck firmly to
its sides until, when he at last pulled the iron away, he was
forced to tear Jess’ skin from it.

Jess gasped for breath and the crowd cheered as the large T
shaped wound was pointed out triumphantly by the executioner. She
dangled by her wrists, her body turning slowly, her feet dragging
on the wooden platform floor.

How could it get worse then this? But Jess’ torment had only just
begun. The Chamberlain was speaking again.


“….suffer the prescribed punishment for whoring……..at the
Prince’s command before suffering the punishment for
treason………publicly flogged to the maximum of twenty-one lashes……”


Jess could not believe the cruelty. She was to suffer not one
punishment, but two. First the public flogging demanded as
punishment for her adultery – as if she were a common whore – and
only then the unbelievable cruelty of execution for treason.

Before her mind could truly register the enormity of this, the
first stroke of the whip drove the breath from her body. Rather
than the long, leather bull whip used for condemned men, the
executioner had struck her with a long, firm, straight horse whip
in a powerful blow across her bare, unprepared buttocks. Her
flesh erupted in a bright red wound, clearly visible to the
watching mob, many of whom cheered and called out ‘one’.

Almost before she could understand the pain, blows two, three and
four fell across her buttocks leaving angry red wheals in their
wake. The counters in the crowd kept pace as Jess’ brain
struggled to cope with the rush of pain bombarding it. More
searing blows fell on her buttocks and the backs of her thighs,
robbing her of the ability to stand. She dangled from her rope
and totally lost count as the sharp agony of strokes twelve and
thirteen rained down on her lower back.


As the last few stokes of the whip struck the tops of her thighs.
So its shaft touched her naked vulva and Jess felt the terrible
humiliation of feeling herself lubricate uncontrollably, small
rivulets of her vaginal juices running down the inside if her
wounded thighs.

The executioner grinned and leered. He leaned over the whisper in
her ear.


“Never fails, my Lady! A true whore’s cunny always weeps to the
lash!” He said triumphantly, as if this was the outcome he had
sought from the beginning.

As if to drive home the victory, he deliberately aimed the last
two powerful strokes at her vulva from behind. Jess felt the
sting of the whip on her fleshy outer lips and whimpered, no
longer able to scream, her head spinning into unconsciousness.


Finally, the beating stopped. Jess’ body hung by her wrists,
turning slowly on the rope. The executioner turned her
unresisting frame so that her back and buttocks faced the crowd.
Her pale, soft skin was a mess of criss-crossed red lines and
wheals from the backs of her knees to her lower back, The large
red branded T shape was clearly visible. They cheered.

One of the executioner’s assistants was commanded to unfasten the
rope from its frame and as he did so, Jess slumped to the
platform floor, her wrists and ankles still bound. A bucket of
cold water was brought to her and splashed in her face. Jess
sought to recover her consciousness, her back a screaming blanket
of pain.

Gradually her senses returned and she became able to understand
the Chamberlain’s droning voice as, unemotionally, her announced
the next terrible part of her torment.


“…..punishment for whoring within the city having been completed,
the sentence for treason will now be carried out…….”

As she heard these words, strong hands grasped her arms and
pulled them behind her back. She knelt forward, her chest on her
knees as her wrists were bound tightly together at her waist and
a strong rope tied her elbows together behind her.

“….will be hanged by the neck to within an inch of your life……..”


Her ankles were bound tightly together, as were her knees so that
she could barely move, her body still kneeling, curled up on the
wooden platform. A growling sound in her ear told her the
executioner was speaking to her again. His voice, as always, was
cruel and merciless.


“All of them piss themselves when they’re hung. Most shit
themselves too. Men spill their seed all over the floor. I wonder
what you’ll do – my Lady!”


Jess tried to control the trembling of her knees as the
executioner slowly slipped the noose over her head and around her
neck. He carefully adjusted the knot, mumbling as he did so.


“….just a bit tighter…..don’t want it to slip….want it to hurt
you, not kill you…”


Jess felt the weight of the large knot on her shoulder as the man
stood back to admire his handiwork. She felt afraid – very afraid
– and tears began to roll down her cheeks. As a traitor she was
denied the dignity of a hood as well as clothes. The crowd were
to see every last second of her agony as a lesson to all that
traitors would not be tolerated.

The executioner nodded and his two masked assistants pulled on
the free end of the rope. Jess felt it tighten around her throat
as the knot found its position just in front of her right ear. It
grew tighter and tighter, cutting off her breath - but then
stopped as her head was twisted hard over to the left.

Slowly, painfully, Jess was lifted from her knees to her feet,
from her feet to her toes, then slowly she was hoisted bodily
from the ground. The rope crushed her windpipe cruelly.  She
couldn’t breathe – no wait – there was a tiny bit of air getting
through! Jess realised this was deliberate; to keep her alive for
a long time for the crowd’s enjoyment.


Now they were really enjoying it. Jess’ head felt as if it was
swelling and her ears ‘popped’ but through it all she could still
hear the cheers of the crowd.

Jess felt her toes finally leave the floor and the full weight of
her body was taken on her neck. Her back cracked noisily and her
neck made a sickening crunching sound – but it didn’t break. She
could still breathe just a little.

Jess understood – she was slowly choking to death. Her lungs
began to burn as she fought for air.


A wave of numbness and a strange tingling came over her as parts
of her body were deprived of life giving oxygen. Her face felt
hot and burning and her tongue seemed to swell in her mouth as
she hung suspended. Fierce prickling feelings spread through her
arms, still pinioned behind her, and down her legs to her bound
ankles. The feelings passed like a wave over her body and Jess
began to tremble.

At first, the tremors were like small twitches, but they soon
built and built until Jess’ legs were kicking violently against
the ropes that bound them. The crowd loved this, and cheered as
the spasms pulsed through her. Jess’ arms tried to break free of
their bonds too, but the executioner was an expert and the knots
held her firmly.

Huge spasms pulsed through Jess’ body as she hung, slowly turning
on the rope. Her head throbbed and her throat swelled so she
could gradually draw in less and less air. The more she shook,
the more her throat swelled. The less air she took in, the more
she shook. Jess felt her head was going to explode. A warm dark
feeling passed over her as the air to her lungs, already burning
hot, was cut off by the rope’s crushing force.

As she began to lose consciousness, her sphincters finally
surrendered and a small stream of hot, wet urine trickled down
her legs, dripping off her bare feet onto the floor.

With what little consciousness was left to her, Jess prepared
herself to die. She passed out.


Another cold splash of water in her face brought Jess back to her
senses – or at least back from the dark depths of death. Through
a daze, she realised she was lying on the platform, still naked;
her hands still bound behind her back, but still alive. Her neck
hurt more than she had imagined possible, but had not broken.

She dimly became aware that the executioner’s assistant was busy
fastening a long metal pole between her ankles. Iron shackles had
been locked around her legs, which were now spread apart. The
crowd had grown silent, unable to see the action on the stage,
but eager to know what was to come. No woman had been executed
for treason in this manner for generations. None but the
executioner and the Prince himself knew what was to take place.

As Jess’ consciousness returned, she became aware that the
Chamberlain was making yet another announcement to the waiting
crowd. His voice had lost its dull drone and was becoming more
animated.

‘You’re enjoying this!’ Jess thought as she lay trussed on the
wooden floor, made slippery by her own bodily fluid.


“….. the womb that should have borne royal children will be
defiled and destroyed as a lesson to all….”

Oh God! What could that possibly mean? Jess felt a cold chill
pass through her.


Strong arms lifted her limp body to her feet. Her legs, still
twitching slightly from the near-hanging, were unable to take her
weight and she immediately collapsed. At his command, the
executioner’s assistants each took one of her arms and braced her
for all to see. Jess felt some feeling returning to her body.

Her neck was all but broken and sharp spears of agony kept
flashing down her spine.

She waited and waited. The executioner smiled an evil, sadistic
smile and crossed to a large wooden windlass at the edge of the
platform. Taking one of its handles in his large, cruel hands, he
began to turn the wooden core slowly around.

Jess, her head lolling on her chest, couldn’t see or understand
what was happening, but the crowd clearly could because they
began cheering once again.


Something brushed against Jess’ inner thighs and, to her horror,
she suddenly realised that, between her legs, a wooden post was
rising. She looked down and fear gripped her chest, robbing her
momentarily of breath.

The post was round, about six inches across, with a metal, cone
shaped end about twelve inches long sharpened to a point.

It rose slowly but inexorably upwards towards Jess’ vulva until
its point nestled between her outer lips. It stopped moving. The
executioner’s masked assistant took his place at the windlass and
he crossed to where Jess was unsteadily standing.

He dropped to his knees before her and, smiling a horrible,
mirthless smile, took a handful of slippery goose grease and
slapped it all over the sharp cone. The crowd cheered, egging him
on; ready for a spectacle. Many of them had been waiting since
the previous evening to get a good view of Jess’ execution and
weren’t going to accept anything less than a good long show.


“Just to make sure it slips smoothly in you!” He croaked. Jess
squirmed and wriggled futilely against her bonds, but the ropes
and the strong arms of the assistant were more than a match for
her tired, beaten body and held her fast.

The executioner slapped her across the cheeks.


“Don’t even try and escape, bitch. You’ll never get away and
anyway…” He indicated the large crowd surrounding the platform.
“You wouldn’t want to disappoint your public, would you?”


Jess’ legs turned to jelly and she collapsed again against her
bonds. The bending of her knees brought her already sore vulva
down onto the post’s sharp point and she winced, springing up
straight again. There was a roar of laughter all around them.

The executioner stood up from his greasing and waved to the
assistant manning the windlass, very much like one used to hoist
a ship’s anchor, who leaned against the handle. The windlass
turned, the ropes tightened, the pulleys strained and the post
began to move upwards once again.

As it closed the last remaining inch of space between its point
and her body on its slow journey upwards towards her waiting
vulva, the cone’s point contemptuously pushed aside Jess’ fleshy
outer lips, to force its hard greasy surface against the tender
inner lips within.

Jess winced with the shock of its cold hardness against the heat
of her already ravaged flesh. The executioner paused the winding
with a gesture of his hand and, returning to the post, bent low
to check its progress. His hard, calloused hand pulled her labia
apart so that they slid smoothly down the cone’s sides.


“Don’t want you to be in too much pain, do we?” He sneered.
“Well, not yet, anyway!”


He waved to his assistant once again, who returned to the
windlass, turned it slowly and the post began to rise again.

Never the sweet virgin her parents had believed her to be, Jess
had felt large cocks in her vagina before, but this monstrous
invasion was simply unbelievable. The cone’s slow progress was,
incredibly, almost pleasant as it began, stretching her hot inner
lips wide in its slow progression, its smooth sides slipping
easily into her, helped by her own flowing juices.

Then she drew in her breath sharply as the cone’s size began to
bite harder into her. As it rose and rose, forcing itself into
her body, so her lips were stretched tighter and tighter, wider
and wider until Jess could feel the tension, wire-tight between
her thighs. Her body fought vainly against the metal tipped
invader, refusing to meekly allow it to penetrate her, but its
progress was simply unstoppable.


After a minute, Jess felt herself being lifted bodily onto her
tiptoes by the rising pole, her entire weight borne by the
incredibly tightly stretched inner lips of her vulva and her
trembling toes.

It rose further and, as Jess’ toes finally lost contact with the
ground, the pain shot through her like a knife. The crowd was
beginning to warm up to the spectacle and were chanting sea
shanties to encourage the masked executioner in his circular path
around the windlass.


As she rose yet higher, Jess wobbled on the pole’s conical point,
her tied arms pinioned behind her, her weighted ankles dragging
her feet downwards. At first she thought she would fall off, but
at least six inches of the post’s sharp end was now wedged within
her body and she was held firmly.

The executioner paused the winding and the pole stopped rising.
Jess tottered on its point, her legs flailing in the air a few
inches above the platform, her vagina stretched agonisingly on
the slippery cone. He crossed over to her and, placing his hand
on her gag, looked to the crowd.


“Off! Off! Off!” They chanted. The executioner looked left and
right, taunting them. They chanted louder and louder. He placed
his right hand on the straps at the back of Jess’ neck and
flipped the gag up and over her blonde head.


Free of its constraint, Jess gulped in the fetid air, then
screamed helplessly into the roar of approval as the crowd
cheered and yelled in triumph. Her voice, passing through her
damaged throat, sounded like the cry of a wounded animal – coarse
and inhuman.

The extra movement of Jess’ body had an immediate effect on her
agony. Her entire weight taken on her wire tight vaginal walls
became simply too much for them to bear. With a gut wrenching,
sickening feeling in her bowels, Jess felt her perineum suddenly
tear.

In tiny, agonising jolts, her skin began to part and her vagina
began to open. Slowly, smoothly the pole’s point ripped her lips
apart and reached deeper and deeper into her body, probing her
depths, splitting her slowly open; tearing her flesh with every
tiny step.


Jess felt her toes once again brushing against the wooden
platform floor and thought for a blessed minute that the pole had
receded, until a new, unexpected and fiercely sharp pain in her
lower belly revealed the truth – that she had sunk a further four
inches on the cone.

The cone was now almost ten inches inside Jess’ body and was
stretching her vagina five or more inches wide. Seeing this, the
crowd became thirsty for blood again.


“Higher! Higher!” They chanted. The executioner smiled his
terrible cold smile once again with a gesture of command; the
windlass began to turn slowly. Jess’ toes were lifted from the
floor once more. Her vaginal walls tore further and the cone
slipped deeper into her.


Through the agony of her impalement, Jess’ confused brain
suddenly realised that the next step could be her last. When the
rising pole had torn and stretched her vagina so far that the
full six inches of its width could pass into her, there would be
nothing to stop her entire body from slipping under her own
weight, all the way down the poles smooth, greased length.

Its point would be driven slowly right through her!


Jess understood enough about her body to know that there were no
bones or muscles strong enough to arrest its progress until it
had reached her chest or her spine. It might even burst out
through her breast, transfixing her.

She screamed again and the crowd roared once more as she dropped
yet another inch onto the cone’s huge width.

The force of the cone’s progress drove Jess’ legs apart until the
rod and chains attached to her ankles stopped them from opening
any further. She felt blood running down her thighs from her torn
vagina and perineum, and the pressure on her bladder built and
built.

She began to feel faint, her face burning to match the agony
spreading from between her thighs. Suddenly she found she could
restrain herself no longer and, to the crowd’s great amusement,
began to urinate gently down the cone’s surface.

She gasped as the hot urine stung her wounded vagina. Her body
tensed and for a second, she felt her progress down the cone
arrested – or at least slowed by her reaction.

She tried again to tense her legs and pelvic floor. It seemed to
work. She stopped sliding.


“The little bitch thinks she can stop it!” The shorter
executioner said under his breath.


To Jess’ horror but to the crowd’s obvious delight, he grabbed a
horsewhip and brought it down across Jess’ breasts with a force
greater than any of her previous whippings. The pain was so
severe that for a split second Jess could not feel the agony
between her legs any more; she could only think of the searing
pain in her soft nipples.

Jess’ body tensed one last time, but she could not hold it any
longer. Her body yielded, exhausted


With a final, almost audible tear, Jess’ vagina split apart and
the full six inch width of the pole burst into her body as the
torn lips of her vagina slipped over the rim of the cone and onto
its smooth shaft.

The crowd fell silent as Jess screamed in agony and her ravaged
body sank down onto the pole.


Her progress was temporarily slowed as its pointed end first
touched her cervix. Jess jerked upright, her knees spread wide by
the huge shaft in her vagina. She jerked again, her chest heaving
and trembling as the cone’s sharp point burst through her cervix
and into her womb, tearing its muscles asunder as it forced its
way through and deep into her.

Jess felt an immense upward pressure in her belly and felt as if
she would surely split open, showering the wooden floor with her
wounded intestines, She looked down and saw her belly bulging
outwards, her legs, knees bent, making her look like a grotesque
swollen pink frog on a stick.

Jess’ torn vagina tried manfully to hold on to the pole but it
was no use. Her body slowly slipped down and down, the pressure
within her belly growing stronger and stronger until her toes
once again touched the floor. Jess’ legs were weak with the pain,
but she managed to take just enough of her weight on her legs to
stop her progress down the pole once again.


The crowd booed in disappointment, clearly hoping that she would
have been fully impaled at that moment, but the executioner waved
them silent. Jess’ mouth filled with vomit as her body tried to
adjust to the immense invading pole which twisted and tortured
her innards.

In her delirium, her mind filled with pictures of how much of the
pole was really inside her. The cone had been at least a foot
long, and when her vagina had finally torn to allow it fully in,
her feet had been at least six inches from the floor.

No! It couldn’t be true! She had taken eighteen inches of wooden
stake into her body and was still alive!

She waited for what would happen next, her mouth full of the sour
taste of her vomit, her belly swelling with the pressure of the
pole, blood streaming now from the place where her tight vagina
used to be.


The executioner secured the windlass in place and crossed to the
weapon rack where he selected a long, razor sharp butcher’s
knife. Jess’ eyes bulged in terror as he crossed to her, but she
was too exhausted to react.

The Chamberlain was speaking once again. Jess’ head was spinning
with her pain, but his words were horribly clear.


“…..breasts which should have suckled the royal heirs will be
excised and destroyed as a lesson to all planning to commit the
heinous crime of treason in the bedroom….”


The leering executioner stood close to Jess’ side. Her eyes were
wide and fixed on what little she could see of his ugly face. He
took her left breast in his hand and fondled it slowly. The crowd
shouted and laughed. He kneaded it harder with a similar result.
He crushed it cruelly in his hand. The crowd roared again, and
Jess felt the sharp stinging feeling.

With a single smooth movement, the executioner brought his sharp
knife upwards into the crease below Jess’ left breast and right
through it, severing it cleanly from her body. Jess couldn’t
breath. Her throat tightened with the shock, but there was very
little actual pain. She watched her breast fall away from her
body and felt the bile rise in her throat once again.

The roaring crowd now screamed with delight as the executioner
held her severed breast aloft. Blood seeped from the angry red
saucer-sized wound in her chest.


An assistant executioner quickly dragged the hot brazier in front
of Jess’ impaled body. On its top was a metal bowl full of hot,
glowing coals. She tried not to look into the bowl as, with
dramatic ceremony, the executioner dropped her severed left
breast into it. There was a hot hiss and steam arose as her flesh
fizzled and burned.

Jess closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable, her head
spinning wildly, fighting to stay conscious. Her chest burned
with the increasing stinging pain.


She didn’t have to wait long. With a flash of his razor sharp
knife, Jess’ right breast was also sliced from her body, held
aloft, and with the same ceremony hurled down to join its partner
in the bowl of coals.

The air filled with the smell of cooking meat – oddly pleasant,
Jess realised despite her agony. Then the acrid smell of burning
filled her nostrils.


Jess looked through dazed, delirious eyes at the darkening pink
flesh in the red hot bowl and suddenly noticed to her horror that
there was something else there too. Alongside the roasting meat
of her own breasts there were, black and shrivelled but
unmistakeable, the charred remains of a man’s penis and scrotum.

Jess felt more sick than ever before. It could only be Guy’s
penis and scrotum! Jess felt tears welling in her eyes. There
before her was the beloved cock that had entered her body so many
times! The balls that she had fondled and kissed and which she
had one day had hoped would create a baby within her, were now
nothing but hard, black shapes on the hot coals. Her head lolled
forwards onto her bleeding chest.

Seeing how close she was to the end, the executioner signalled to
his assistant who lowered Jess’ body, still impaled on the pole,
so the ground. The masked assistants held her upright as the fat,
blood covered pole was slowly pulled from her vagina – or where
it used to be – for as it finally left her tattered body, a gush
of blood spilled onto the floor at her feet and dark red flesh
hung downwards from the gaping wound between her thighs.


The metal rod between her ankles was removed as the two
assistants held her limp body upright. Her ankles were once again
tied together, as were her knees and as Jess’ delirious mind
struggled to understand what was happening, she was forced
forwards onto a long, low table until her neck rested in the
groove of a wooden u-shaped plank. A second u-shaped piece was
snapped home over her neck and Jess dimly realised she was
staring helpless through the ‘little window’ of a guillotine.

There could be only one outcome now. And it would not be long in
coming.


Jess’ eyes opened wide in terror as she tried vainly to look
around her. In the middle of the platform, side on the crowd, her
damaged, naked body was clearly visible to all.

Jess couldn’t see behind her but could hear the executioner and
his men moving into position. In front of her was a white painted
panel, with red stains that could only be blood – Guy’s blood –
splashed over it. She couldn’t raise her head to see above her,
but to her gut-wrenching horror, below her head was – and she
nearly fainted when she saw it – a large basket lined with straw.


Despite her exhaustion and pain, Jess began to wriggle and try to
slide her head back but it was no use; the window held her
firmly. She felt a movement behind her as her feeble legs were
fastened to the guillotine’s frame. She could not longer move a
muscle apart from her mouth, but was incapable of speech.

The executioner had moved in front of her now. Jess waited for
the command which she was sure would soon follow – the order to
strike her head from her body.


In her agony, she longed for it to come.


But there was to be more humiliation first. The Chamberlain’s
voice, now almost cheerful in his glee, announced her fate.


“….his majesty the Prince has himself commanded that, before the
prisoner’s traitorous head is struck from her body, she must
perform in public the service she refused to provide him in
private…….


For a split second, Jess was baffled. But then the executioner
moved to stand in front of her and slowly lowered his stockings.
His horrible erect cock sprang out for all to see. The crowd
screamed with glee. This was a totally new angle on public
executions and they loved it!

The executioner rubbed his hand lovingly up and down his gruesome
erection. It was long and thick and unclean and was grotesquely
twisted to one side. He grasped Jess’ hair in his right hand and
jerked her head back until her neck jammed against the wooden
frame of the guillotine.

Jess gasped for air and as soon as her mouth opened, the
executioner thrust his huge cock between her lips and deep into
her throat. Jess gagged hopelessly, trying to gulp in air, but
the head of his cock was jammed into her windpipe. She tried hard
to breath through her nose and found she could just about manage
to draw in a few gasps – just enough prevent her from choking to
death.


The crowd was now almost uncontrollable with delight. In the
front few rows, several of the men had dropped their own
stockings and were playing with themselves to the howls of
approval of their neighbours.


On the platform, Jess’ humiliation grew worse. With the breath
entering her lungs came the foul, unwashed taste of the
executioner’s common cock. It was foul and dirty and made bile
rise in her throat.


Once her abuser understood she was still alive, he began to
thrust himself in and out of her mouth with great force. Jess’
mouth closed around his cock in the vain hope that if she gave
him a good – not great - experience, he might treat her less
violently, but it seemed that the more she tried, the higher his
excitement became and the more he hammered himself into her.

Jess felt the skin of her face burn with friction as his filthy,
wiry pubic hair was scraped across it. His cock repeatedly
blocked her throat, making her gag and her whole body jerk. He
was moaning with pleasure, fucking her face as hard as ever Guy
had fucked her vagina.


Suddenly the executioner began to cum. Globs of semen burst into
her mouth and he rammed himself deep into her throat, so far that
Jess could not breathe at all. She began to choke, becoming
fainter and fainter.

With a final gesture, the executioner suddenly grabbed Jess’ head
by the ears and pulled her towards him. His cock slid forcefully
past her uvula and into her windpipe as above her, the heavy
sharp blade fell swiftly and silently.


The razor sharp blade struck the back of Jess’ neck with a force
so hard and with an edge so sharp that her head was cleanly
severed from her body without her losing consciousness.

The executioner held Jess’ severed head by her ears, his erection
still within her drooping mouth. He pulled his softening cock
from between her still-warm lips and turned to present the
severed prize to the waiting crowd. As he held her head aloft,
the crowd roared in appreciation.


Jess, still horrifyingly conscious but fading fast, dimly saw her
own headless body lying against the guillotine’s window, the red
stump of her neck protruding through, red and sticky, but
bleeding surprisingly little.

She heard the crowd’s roar in her ears as the darkness began to
close in around her. The executioner turned her head back towards
his flaccid cock and thrust it into her gaping mouth.


The last thing Jess saw was the knotted mat of his pubic hair in
her face. The last thing she felt was the head of his cock
striking the back of her throat as he fucked her severed head
until he came again, semen dripping down through her severed
windpipe and onto the floor.

The crowd roared its approval as the blonde haired, pale skinned
head of the Princess was stuck on the end of a common soldier’s
lance and hoisted upwards to gaze blindly down on the multitude.

The spectacle was over.


*****


Unseen by the masses, the headless body of the dead Princess was
bundled unceremoniously into a plain wooden coffin and, as the
many headed began to disperse, was carried by a back passage to
the condemned cell. Once inside, the door was locked and the
executioner removed his mask to gaze at his two young assistants.

His face was even uglier uncovered than it had been with the
leather mask in place. He lifted the lid of the crude wooden
coffin and peered at its contents. Apparently satisfied, he
leered at the two young men.


“Go on then, boys. She’s all yours. I can hold off the guards for
a good fifteen minutes, I reckon. Nobody wants to be with us so
soon after a ….performance.”


The two young men also removed their masks to reveal their own
ugly, pock marked faces.


“You mean…?” One asked.


“I mean how many men have the chance to fuck a real Princess?
Even a dead one? Only one man alive as we know has done that, and
he’s the Prince himself! ”


The young men’s eyes lit up.


“Haul her out and see what you can find.” He pressed them.


The three ghoulish men hoisted Jess’ headless corpse out of the
box.


“She’s still warm!” Cried the more hesitant of the two
youngsters.


“All the better for your cock, my lad.” The executioner smiled.


Together they laid the girl’s body on the cell’s hard bed. Its
stump of a neck rested just short of the pile of rags that had
served as a pillow.


“You do it like this!” The executioner grunted and, lifting Jess’
waist with one hand, he tucked her legs under her body with the
other until her buttocks stuck up into the air.

“Now don’t stand on ceremony, lads!” He urged. “The Prince’s men
will be down here soon to hang her in irons from the portcullis.
If you want her – take her now!”


The taller, uglier assistant needed no second bidding. Tugging
off his hose, his erection sprang forth and he leapt onto the bed
behind the corpse’s soft white buttocks. He looked at the mess
before him.

“She’s all torn to bits, Master.” He moaned, and indeed where
Jess’ tight vagina had once been was now a bloody mess of torn
flesh.

The executioner looked for himself and whistled long and low.


“Looks like I did a more thorough job than I thought. Christ only
knows how she stood the pain. Still, her ass looks alright. Try
that!”


Doubtful, the tall, gangly young man pressed his thumb against
Jess’ anus. It resisted his pressure. He pressed harder,
surprised that her dead body could work so hard against him. Only
after a third, hard thrust with both hands did Jess’ sphincter
yield to his fingers. He withdrew them quickly and thrust his
long, hard cock into her rectum.

It was dry and the friction burned him. He pulled back and,
spitting on his fingers, rubbed saliva all over his cock. He
thrust again and this time slid his full length into Jess’ dead
body. It felt warm and tight, but of course there was no response
from the executed Princess.

The young man began to jerk and thrust into Jess’ body, pounding
her lifeless anus with his swelling cock. Blood began to spurt
from her severed neck onto the straw of her mattress and the rags
of the pillow. More blood dripped onto his thighs from the torn
and tattered remains of her vagina. Within seconds, he began to
come, grabbing handfuls of Jess’ limp buttocks on his hands as he
hammered into her, his face a mess of sweat and tears and lust.

When he had pumped her rectum full of his semen, the tall, thin
young man pulled him softening cock out of Jess’ anus and sat
back. Her headless body slumped forwards onto its lifeless arms
and semen dripped down the crack between her buttocks.


Pushing his colleague aside, the shorter, less ugly assistant
mounted the bed to take his place. He wriggled his hose down
until his short, thick erection broke free and immediately jammed
it into Jess’ gaping anus. He thrust wildly, the other two men
having to hold Jess’ headless body steady on the bed to prevent
him hurling it to the floor in his lust.

In a matter of seconds, he too emptied his semen into Jess’
rectum, howling with spent desire as his body convulsed.


There was a hammering on the door. The shorter assistant
hurriedly pulled himself from Jess’ rectum and sprang to his
feet. He pulled his hose upwards just as the Prince’s soldiers
entered the cell, pushing the low, beetling execution team out of
their way.

Gathering Jess’ headless body and throwing it over his shoulder,
the strongest of the soldiers spat on the executioner’s
assistants.


“Leave the stringing up to us, you animals!” He growled and,
without a further word, strode from the room, the Princess’
decapitated body swinging down his back.


The three executioners looked at each other and laughed aloud.


*****


Jess’ body was cut into four quarters and a piece mounted on each
of the four gates to the city, along with a piece of her former
lover’s body. Their two heads remained on pikes in the main
palace square for over a month until the ravens stole the last
portion.


The Prince spent many months alone, trusting nobody but the
Chamberlain’s daughter and exercising his ‘droit de seigneur’
over the young girls of the kingdom with a dedication unknown for
generations. Every bride to be for miles around was deflowered by
the Prince on her wedding night until, blessedly less than a year
later, he died in bed of a massive seizure brought on by lust.


Jess had found her revenge.
