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From: kallista@geocities.com
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	No experience stands out in my memory of those years when I was a 
working for the _Sentinel_ as vividly as that which took place on the night 
I was summoned to be witness to an execution at State Prison.  With the 
attendance at such occasions being determined by lot, it had fallen upon me 
to cover that rarity, the dipatching of a woman.  

	I won't deny it.  I had forebodings about my having to view the 
event.  As a female reporter it went right against my grain.  However, it 
was part of my job.
	
	They were still using the electric chair for administering
the death penalty at that time.  Its latest victim was to be one Anna 
Frost, convicted of strangling her lover in revenge for an alleged breach
of fidelity.  Some juries might have ruled it a crime of passion, but this 
one had seemed determined to throw the book at the unfortunate lady.

	I doubt that any of us who sat in the observer's pews on that night
had an inkling as to what was in store for us.  Everyone seemed a little
on edge of course as we all sat and stared at the ugly apparatus perched 
only yards away from us, waiting for its slated occupant to arrive at the 
death chamber.  The sight of a woman being exterminated was something that 
none of us relished, I'm sure.

	The physical beauty of the condemned was already legendary, based 
on the accounts of the trial that had appeared in the tv newscasts.  Yet 
those reports, as it turned out, were in fact understatements.

	Rumor had it that Anna had been granted special permission to
wear an outift of her own choosing to the chair.  No doubt it was a
sexist concession, but the authorities seemed to have felt pity and meant 
to make the ordeal as platable as possible for her.  In any case, she was 
known to take unusual pride in her appearance and had been justly famous 
for her meticulous attire all during the trial.

	The person who appeared there promptly at midnight, pausing in the 
entrance doorway, did not fail to meet our expectation.  She certainly 
seemd far from the conventional picture of a doomed malefactor.

	Flanked by the Warden and a prison matron, with a chaplain and four 
guards bringing up the rear, Anna was the picture of nubile sexuality.  She 
was clad in a figure-hugging, long sleeved, black dress with a dramatic silver 
brooch pinned at her bosom.  If it were accidentally to become unclasped, I 
imagined, her barely-confined breasts would strain to tumble out in erotic 
untidiness.  Across her midriff there was an audacious cut-out panel stretching 
from just below the bust to the peak of her navel.  

	She appeared purposely to have chosen the shortest dress length that 
propriety might sanction, as if to demonstrate a show-stopping pair of legs. 
These were artfully complemented by stiletto pumps, in which she narrowly 
escaped tottering as she waited, poised on the threshold.
	
	Sadly, one of those legs had been bared, though the other was still
sheathed in silky-black nylon.  Instinctively I knew that the missing
stocking was in honor of the electrode she must soon wear.

	Her blonde hair, parted at the center, cascaded to her shoulders as 
she stood erect and proud,  her steely-blue eyes impassive.  Close
inspection would have revealed that a round spot atop the crown of her
head had been clipped and shaved, but somehow she had managed to arange
her tresses in such a way as to disguise this.  This disfigurement was deemed
necessary in order to accomodate the other electrode, the upper one.

	Incongruously, considering the grimness of her situation, she seemed
decked out for an evening on the town.  Her eyes and lips and nails were done 
to perfection.  Perhaps most ironic was the string of perfectly-matched pearls 
which adorned the expanse of flesh beneath her throat--the finishing touch, as 
it were.
	
	Well, not quite.  The true final flourish was the subtle floral
perfume she must have dabbed on her pressure points just before taking that
walk down that Last Mile.  Dainty, but intriguing.

	With a quick nod toward the matron and a brave attempt at a
smile, she began to move again.  Detaching herself momentarily from her
all too attentive escorts she marched briskly to the ominous chair, 
turned to face us who had come to watch her die, and took her seat.  She
glared defiantly at the guards as they approached her, well rehearsed in
the routine of strapping their prisoner in.

	Matron's face was white with alarm.  I immediately deduced that
some kind of emotional bond must have been established between her and 
this alluring victim.  Her hands fidgeted anxiously as she stood by to
survey the proceedings.

	The guards went straight to work, being careful not to engage
the seated woman's gaze.  Two men applied straps at Anna's wrists, while
the other two assisted one another in drawing the separate sections of
the belt together for securing her waist.  Metal buckles clicked smartly 
into place, and Anna vsibly swallowed hard.

	Nevertheless, she took it all in stride until the first two guards 
moved to the rear of the tall, straight-backed chair and passed further 
straps around her upper arms.  Then she flinched.  I noted that she shifted 
the weight of her buttocks as if trying to find a more comfortable position.

	Up to this point she had been careful to hold her legs closely
together with lady-like comportment.  Indeed, she could have been a
dignified princess taking her place for her coronation as queen.  But
in an instant all this civility evaporated as the remaining pair of
guards stooped down to set the ankle straps.

	In order to bring her ankles into line with the bonds that waited
at the front right and left corners of the chair, it was necessary
for them to part her legs.  She offered no resistance, indeed allowed 
them to spring wide as if she wanted to display her inner thighs for all 
to see.  The sight that we were treated to was that and a great deal more.
There, neatly shaved and big as life were her cunt lips, brandished so as
to shock all those assembled.  In short, she had worn no panties!

	A unisonal gasp went up on the part of prison staff and citizen
witnesses alike.  The thought ran through my mind that this was obscene,
quickly followed by the fact that the whole notion of electrocution was
equally, if not more, obscene.  But, clearly the guards were flabbergasted.

	It was at that point that the Warden intervened, choosing to
ignore Anna's little joke at our expense.  He indicated that the guards
were to get on with it and finish this last small task.  Then he motioned
Matron to come forward and stand in front of the naughty girl like a human
shield, but not before he had given the scene his own thorough inspection.

	Undoubtedly he must have appreciated the sight of her nylon-sheathed
leg, the one on our left, with its lace-top, thigh-high stocking still in
place.  I suspect that no man could be impervious to its charm.

	He must not have counted on what the Electrician might do. Nor, for 
that matter, had he grasped that Anna's anticipation of her own execution 
(with herself as the focus of such an intense drama) was having an aphrodisial
effect on the gorgeous young creature who now sat powerless before us.  
Powerless, except for the fact that the fragrance of her sex was assaulting us 
as if SHE were the one in command of the situation.

	Quickly the Electrician emerged from the hidden stall where the
electrode controls were mounted.  In his hand he carried the dome-shaped
headpiece and a cuff-like device to be fitted to Anna's leg.  His hands
deftly slid the helmet into position upon her head and locked it in place.
Then a wire protruding from the end of a gooseneck cable attached to the
back of the chair was linked to the binding post on the top of the lethal
cap.  All that remained on this end was to fasten a strap around Anna's
neck; the crowning was complete.

	The acid test of the executioner's resolve was yet to come.  As 
he would be required to face at close range the lady's vulva, he knew
he must work swiftly lest he become distracted.  The knowing smile on
her lips suggested that she was enjoying the spectacle, all the while
making the point that this was no mere piece of meat they were planning
to roast.

	Even as the man was setting the sponged cuff in place and setting
the connection at her calf so that the current could have the free range 
of the woman's body, we could see that his resistance was weakening.  The
cables, phallic in appearance, were now readied to send 2000 volts of raw
power into her person.  But would he be able to pull the switch?

	Heedless of the inappropriateness of his behavior, the Electrician
succumbed to his animal desire.  Dropping to his knees and trembling before
the wiles of this sex goddess, he thrust his hands to reach between her soft
thighs and plunged two fingers directly into the midst of her naturally
lubricated outer lips.  Awkwardly he then inserted his chin on to the seat
of the chair and stretched his neck until he was able to tongue the randy
genitals presented so teasingly to him.

	If someone had accidentally thrown the switch at that moment, they
would both have been dead in an instant.

	The rest of us were mesmerized, scarcely knowing what to think or 
do.  In any case, the switching mechanism stood unattended.

	Finally the prison physician, present to ascertain that the execution
would have been completed, took matters in hand.  He snapped his fingers for
the guards to come and help and together they dragged the overwrought
executioner away from his ladylove's vaginal enticements.  A look of utter
shame crept across the man's face as he rose and left the Chamber in disgrace.

	It was at this point that the Warden, eager that Justice be duly
meted out, vanished into the switch room and, with a glance toward the chair, 
turned on the current.

	Anna's body leaped into a rigid stance and every muscle in her
frame twitched and bulged.  The expression of her eyes was frozen in dis-
belief.  The transformers hummed as the electrodes hissed.  The scene was
worse than revolting.

	Because of his inexperience at the controls, the Warden had failed
to send the optimum voltage into Anna.  She, instead of expiring instantly,
writhed in what appeared to be, not pain, but an orgy of sexual climax.  A
sultry groan escaped from her throat as all the visible parts of her flesh
turned a roseate hue.  Unable to escape from this electrical stimulation,
and seemingly with no desire to do so, she heaved voluptuously as wave after 
wave of orgasmic fulfillment flooded her organs.

	Seeing his mistake, the Warden cut the power.  Anna's frame now
collapsed as she continued to moan.  The doctor stepped forward and
gingerly examined her breast and other points of vital activity.  At once
he announced that she had survived the attempted electrocution and should
be taken immediately to hospital for rehabilition--in the name of common 
decency.

	And so it was that she was released from her horrid throne, barely
conscious, and trundled away on the gurney that had been waiting to take 
what would have been her corpse to the autopsy room.  Instead of burial, she 
received humane medical treatment and eventually recovered, only to receive 
a gubernatorial pardon.  But not without a stern lecture about the necessity 
for feminine modesty in the future.

	'In a pig's eye...' was her response.  And who could blame her?

				* * *





	

	

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