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Death of a Princess
by Old Nick's Man (oldnicksman@hotmail.com)

***

Young, beautiful Princess Jessica is caught red handed 
in her lover's bed. Her husband, the Prince sends her 
to be tried for treason. She and her lover are 
convicted and sentenced to slow, painful deaths as 
traitors. (MF, nc, v, tor, nec)

***

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. 
Beheading has been used for thousands of years.

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.

Jess 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 more than one large cock 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 
unmistakable, 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.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 40