Execution of the Terrorist Housewives

Execution Of the Terrorist Housewives   Chapter Ten

By Jill Crokett

The headboard rattled rhythmically in the darkened Las Vegas hotel room as Bill Schnell pounded his pelvis against Karen’s spread thighs, her feet over her head, the soles of which were pressed flat against the headboard as her husband’s passion grinded away.  Bill, sweating against the hum of the air conditioner, wondered if he ever could be sexually satiated after witnessing the triple faux childbirths and their accompanying  choral trio of screaming females.

While fucking his wife as hard as he could, Bill found it hard to believe that they had just witnessed a screaming mother-daughter team essentially being fist-fucked while restrained to some sort of strange rape table. Once he had climaxed inside his wife’s tight, dripping reproduction vesicle, the two lay there in silence with nothing else to do but sleep and screw until the phone rang, telling them it was time for Diane, Tracy, and Sara to be put to death.

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Inside the male employees handicapped toilet stall at the Women’s Federal Punishment Center Jason stood with his eyes closed and stroked the head his pre-cum-lubed cock ever so lightly.  It only took a few seconds before the university intern squirted the fruits of his overactive prostate gland across the white split-front toilet seat, relieving himself of the pressure that had been building as he witnessed the three false childbirths.  Jason had never imagined that he could become so excited, so stimulated, by the screaming of beautiful, sexually tortured women. 

While interning earlier at the Men’s Facility, Jason, on several occasions, had grown excited while witnessing males being punitively whipped and circumcised, or, in more extreme cases, castrated before being hanged naked.  The most notable was the time he witnessed the quadruple torture and execution of a child kidnap-and-murder ring.  The condemned men had all met in prison and had carefully planned for their macabre, sadistic entertainment when they got out, and Jason felt no guilt in enjoying their predicament.  He had enjoyed their killings so much that he even began to question his heterosexuality, but now that he was experiencing similar rituals at the Female Facility, he had no doubt as to his sexual preference. 

Since coming to the female punishment center, Jason, who was now masturbating to the point of climax at least three times a day, felt constantly horny and in need of sexual release.  His outwardly mild-mannered boyish poise and demeanor was a front for the inner breast which raved ceaselessly in his loins.  He often wondered if his boss, Warden Bowden, had taken notice as to how many trips he was making to the men’s room each day. 

Jason tried to inwardly rationalized that his level of sexual stimulation was not unusual for a young male interning in such a provocative setting.  After all, he was surrounded daily by female prisoners who were often stripped naked and who were frequently being severely physically punished.  He balanced his sexual guilt with the further rationalization that here, in the mid-21st-century, prisons, as places of incarceration, no longer existed, and the only deterrent to contemporary crime were these punitive physical punishments. And if the odd college intern was turned on by them, so be it. After all, the system worked.

“Are you ready to call it an evening, Jason?” Anne Bowden chirped from behind her sprawling executive desk with an expansive picture window of the desert mountains in the twilight behind her, as the young intern placed a small stack of reports in front of her.

“No ma’am, Warden, I, I thought I’d go pu, put in some extra time, taking notes for, for my master’s thesis down in the autopsy-organ-harvest room.”

“What was it your thesis was on, Jason?” Anne Bowden inquired with a slight smirk, already knowing the answer.  She just loved to hear the cute young college student say it.

“The Macroeconomic Effects of Efficient Condemned Inmate Organ Recycling” Jason blurted back with awkward enthusiasm.

The fact was, Jason’s only other choice for an evening activity was to drive an hour through the desert to sit in his bleak, rented-by-the-week furnished studio apartment, which, in reality, was a nearly-condemned Las Vegas Boulevard motel room infrequently cleaned by the owner’s cousin from Madras.  Jason much preferred to remain in the relative air-conditioned comfort of the Federal Women’s Punishment Center, walk around after hours as if he owned the place, free to masturbate in a handicapped stall of the employee restroom of his choice. 

Because he had been busy escorting the Schnell’s off following the false delivery punishments, Jason was aware that he would miss two other executions scheduled late that afternoon.  He didn’t know if the two condemned females were scheduled to be harvested, or, because of known disease or age, were simply scheduled for a quick autopsy and cremation. 

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The cool blast of chilled air hit Jason’s face the moment the nearly silent automatic doors opened into the large, high-ceilinged, white tiled suite of clinical looking rooms know simply as “Autopsy and Organ Harvest.”  Suited up in the mandatory long aqua green scrub coat with the prerequisite booties, gloves, mask, and head covering, Jason strutted anonymously into the area of death with the confidence of someone quite familiar with the place.  The fact was, the staff in the Harvest theatre had all heard about the young man’s master’s thesis and was not at all uncomfortable with him making his way about as an observer. Truth be told, the biggest lesson Jason was learning from his thesis was just how intense his fascination with death really was.

The morgue was empty and silent. Jason assured himself that Dr. Wexler probably took a break in the early evening, then came back to do an autopsy later with the night shift staff.  After all, he too, like Jason, really had no other life other than the facility.

“The workers must be on their dinner break” Jason whispered to himself as he walked through the large, well lit room, navigating past the hanging cables and stainless steel autopsy tables.  There was no door separating the morgue from the organ harvest and autopsy area, only a narrowing rectangular archway. Jason passed into the next chamber and gazed at the long wall of cadaver coolers with their refrigerated hatch-like doors.  They reminded him of the sides of a giant stainless steel ice cream truck.  Behind these small doors lay the bodies of executed women who are not going to have their organs harvested, which generally meant executed prisoners who were too old for organ harvest (40 was usually the cut-off point, no pun intended) or were physically unacceptable due to disease.

Organ harvest was always done fresh.  Any cadavers behind these refrigerated doors were awaiting autopsy or cremation. 

Jason walked up to the first morgue cooler door and pulled open the latch.  He grabbed the end of the large slab-like roll-out tray and slowly pulled it out the its full length of over six feet.  A human form lay draped head to ankle with a long white sheet, with only the tagged toes exposed.  Jason’s gaze lingered up and down the sheet-covered corpse as he wondered what lie beneath the morgue drape. 

Was she young or old? What color was her hair?  Had she been punitively punished or had she been given a quick, merciful death?  Jason loved to guess.

The graduate student slowly drew the sheet down to the corpse’s waist, and then on to the knees, gazing up and down at a nude, later-middle-aged female cadaver.  He bent closer to study the toe tag for a moment, which revealed the name, age, and date of execution.

The woman was fifty-three.  She was the same age as his mother, and had been dead less than twelve hours.  Jason straightened up and studied the full length of the cadaver’s torso again, this time more carefully. She was modestly overweight. Her dark, slightly silver streaked hair had been roughly chopped off indiscriminately at a length of about one inch.  Jason knew that a short haircut was required of most condemned prisoners, male or female.

Jason studied the cadaver’s large breasts, which in the supine position hung to each side of her chest. The naked tits revealed the faint tan lines of a bikini top. It surprised him for her age. “Had she been involved in trafficking drugs as a runner to the Caribbean?” he wondered. 

Jason also noticed the clear, distinct marks of a leather belt strap across both breasts, transecting at the nipples. “The condemned had suffered at least one type of punitive punishment before she was put to death” the intern thought to himself.  “But what was the cause of death?” he wondered.  He could see no rope burns or garrote markings around the woman’s neck.  Jason guessed that she had been suffocated with plastic wrap circled tightly over the face and head. The method rarely left marks.

Jason’s gaze roamed downward.  He noticed that the woman’s wrists and ankles were bruised in a band-shaped fashion, indicating that in her final hour she was restrained tightly at her wrists and ankles and had probably fought fiercely against her restraints. She had suffered a slow, anxious demise. 

Jason’s gaze moved on to the older woman’s sex.  There too, the tan lines of a modest bikini bottom, one appropriate for a matron of her age and size, were found. None to Jason’s surprise, the executed woman’s most feminine area had been very recently shaved completely bald, probably in the hours before death.  Jason had never seen it otherwise, either with male or female condemned.  A pubic shaving was part of the penal code, a final punishing humiliation as well as a preparation for possible genital and reproductive organ harvest.  But for this woman Jason knew that organ harvest was never intended. He assumed that her organs were not wanted; they rarely were after age 40.  Transplant surgeons wanted to work with younger parts which had longativity. “No,” he thought, “this one will be autopsied within the next few hours and sent to the incinerator.”

It was clear to Jason that the condemned woman’s most intimate area had received the belt right along with her breasts.  The smooth-shaven lips of the mature vulva were swollen from a strapping she had apparently undergone in the moments before she was put to death. He stared at the thin, bald pussy slit before him and wondered, had it had a full life?  How many thousands of times had those smooth pussy lips been wrapped around a huge, pounding cock? Had a cock ever been forced between them; had she ever been raped? Was she a lesbian; had another woman ever licked them?  How many times had a gynecologist spread them wide and clamped them open with a speculum? Had a live baby ever pasted through them; how many times?  Did those children morn her loss; or had she been alone in the world?   

“What are you doing?” she asked affirmatively.

Jason nearly wet his pants as he jumped around to see Dr. Wexler’s assistant standing across the room behind him.

Clearing a lump in his throat, Jason stammered to say “Oh, I’m sorry, there was no one here, and, and I wanted to do a little research regarding my harvesting thesis.”

Before the nurse could speak again Dr. Wexler walked up behind her and quipped “Well, you came in at a good time young man.  We just executed a 37-year-old, and she’s being taken down from the gallows at this very moment.  A little age on her, but she’s in great shape and meets all the harvest criteria.”

“Thank you Dr. Wexler” Jason replied nervously, worried that the nurse was staring at his totally sick, perverted, necro-boner.

“As a matter of fact there are three private transplant jets on the tarmac right now waiting for this shipment” Wexler continued.  “You’re welcome to stick around and watch.  It’ll be just me and the three transplant assistants. The other two should be bringing her in from the death chamber any minute now.”

Jason’s heart pounded as two surgically gowned female assistants wheeled the sheet covered gurney into the harvest room just moments later. He again embarrassingly feared that one of the mask-faced harvesting technicians would detect his semi-erection, which lingered from shear anticipation.

“You know Jason, this woman’s heart is still beating faintly, even though she’s unconscious from the hanging.  Keeping the blood circulating up to the moment of harvest makes for better transplant organs” Wexler said.

“In the old days, back in the late Twentieth Century, they would take an accident victim who was being kept alive on a ventilator, pronounce them ‘brain dead’, and then harvest their organs while they were still on the ventilator. That’s how they got fresh, living transplant tissue” Wexler rambled on, clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice.

“Now that we have the new criminal code, and there’s no more warehousing of criminals, we just hang the condemned slightly until they’re unconscious, then take what we need. It works the same way as it did sixty years ago, back in the 1990’s. And hey, their going to be killed anyway, why not let the act serve humanity” the physician said, clearly trying to justify his actions in order to salve some inner guilt. 

The two surgical technicians positioned the gurney over a wide, shallow, stainless-steel floor sink as the third tech pushed a button which began to slowly lower two steel beams from the ceiling. The two steel post-like beams, which were about five feet apart from one another, lowered directly down on either side of the gurney, stopping when the bottom of each was about five feet off the floor. There was a ringed attachment point at the bottom on each steel beam.

Jason stood facing the gurney end-on as his heart palpitated with the anticipation of what he was about to see.  Directly in front of him, one of the female harvest technicians pulled the sheet off of the gurney, revealing the nude body of an attractive early middle-aged woman. She appeared well nourished but physically fit, with a slightly pear-shaped bottom accentuated by firm but prominent hips and thighs. She appeared unconscious, but had the skin tone and color of someone alive.

The naked woman was lying face up on the gurney with her legs together. Her arms were still strapped tightly together behind her back at the wrists and elbows, the arm restraint position used in all hangings.  This position caused her nipples to point upward and her breasts to flatten out, making her boobs appeared smaller than their C-cup, and more youthful than their 37 years.

The beautiful woman’s long, dark brown hair had been cropped short just before she was hanged. Other than her now ragged-looking boyish haircut, her youthfully mature body was entirely hairless, Jason observed, revealing to him the thin, dark, straight line of a labial slit.

Two technicians, standing at each side of the gurney, firmly grasped the hanged woman’s ankles and spread her legs right in front of Jason. As they did, Dr. Wexler and the other assistant began to firmly strap suspension harnesses on each of the woman’s ankles. For the first time, Jason got a glimpse of the intimate folds of the hanged woman’s sex, which, shaved smooth, was bare as the day she was born. She had one of the most beautiful pussies he had ever seen.  As the tech’s held the woman’s legs spread wide, Jason again worried that they would notice his swelling crotch log. 

The ankle harnesses had hooks on them which the assistants clipped to the metal rings on the bottoms of the hydraulic ceiling posts. To do this, they further spread the woman’s thighs wide in front of Jason. With the push of a button the steel posts slowly retracted to the ceiling, raising the condemned’s V-positioned legs upward as her buttocks were lifted up off the gurney. 

Jason stepped back to watch as the hanged mom was lifted feet-first toward the ceiling, her ankles held wide apart by the two inverted steel beams which now retracted into the ceiling.  As her exposed torso was hoisted up by her spread legs, Jason got a clear look the mound and full lips of the woman’s shaved sex.  With her arms strapped tight behind her, the unconscious woman’s chest was pushed out, proudly revealing her thick brown nipples and the hangman’s rope mark around her neck.

As the woman hung by her spread ankles, now fully lifted off of the gurney, Jason was able to gazed upon the beauty of  her mature, full frontal nudity.  Her eyelids were halfway opened and she seemed to stare unconsciously forward.  Just minutes earlier she was seeing the world through those eyes, now she hung awaiting her dissection.

“She really looks good for thirty-seven,” the Jason thought as his dick swelled.

Once executed female prisoner was lifted off the gurney, it was rolled away and she hung free by her spread ankles, her arms still strapped behind her back. The technicians then lowered the beams to strategically position her pussy in front of Dr. Wexler to facilitate the harvest of her reproductive organs.

Jason, seeing no whip marks on the woman’s body, asked Wexler if there had been no punitive punishment before death.

 

“She was actually sentence be labially whipped before her death sentence was carried out, but yesterday we got a special order for a female sex organ transplant, and her DNA profiles matched the request. So Bowden decided to skip the whippings” Dr.Wexler said.

“We normally don’t choose them this old for sex organ transplants, but this one was exceptional.  As far as we know she was never married and my examination revealed she had never given birth.  She is essentially a 37-year-old virgin who is in top physical shape” Wexler added. 

“I spoke with her just about an hour ago when we did the execution prep. I told her that after she was hanged, I was going to completely remove her vulva and vagina, along with her uterus and ovaries, and that they would be transplanted into the 64 year old wife of a billionaire who wants to have a baby again.”

The freshly executed woman’s relaxed gaze and expressionless, near-lifeless eyes did not reveal her terrifying final hour.  She now hung inverted, her arms bound behind her, her legs spread five feet apart.  From what Wexler said, she had gone to the gallows knowing that her pussy would live on to be pounded by a billionaire.  If the transplant recipient got pregnant, the executed woman, in a sense, would live on. Dr. Wexler wanted her to know that.

“Are there any punishments scheduled for this evening?” Jason asked Dr. Wexler as he went to work using his laser knife to excise the woman’s spread open vulva.

“Go grab some dinner and come back to the punishment theatre seven in about an hour” Wexler said as he tugged on the hanged woman’s clitoris with a hemostat as his laser cut away some perianal tissue.  “I’m scheduled to do two punitive circumcisions on a pair of sisters.  You’re welcome to watch.”  As Wexler said this, his three female assistants never batted an eye, but continued to work methodically as her cut out the woman’s pussy.

“I’ll see you then” Jason said as he exited the automatic doors of the Harvest Room and began to pull off his surgical scrubs.  The thought of two sisters being circumcised before his eyes caused Jason to walk past the employee cafeteria and head straight for the men’s handicapped toilet stall.