The Privileges Of Power free porn video

What had once been the United States was gone. By the time the 2012 election season had passed, what had been the good old USA had been split into coalitions of Red and Blue states, each with its own rules of government and each harboring an intense distrust of the other group.

Laws had changed since the old US constitution had been severely redacted. To some it seemed ironic that the red and blue groups had much the same views as they had shared in the past, but neither group would admit the other’s right to exist let alone to speak. Former individual freedoms were subject to much interpretation by centers of power. In the new red and blue societies, individual freedom had become a thing of the past. The state borders were now tightly controlled frontiers with armed militias keeping intruders out and citizens in.

By the year 2025, the social order seemed fairly well fixed. The competing red and blue views of utopian existence had pretty much settled into societies controlled by the state political machines loosely joined into red and blue confederacies. There were certain powerful families with vast influence on how everyone lived and worked. The penal system had been dramatically changed to serve the new social realities. In many of the new states, teaching history topics based on the old regime was a serious crime.

The system for the dispensation of justice in the former state of Delaware had evolved into a two-penalty process. A person committing a minor crime was automatically sentenced to a period of indentured servitude ranging from two to ten years. In the case of more serious crimes (including murder, manslaughter, corruption, or any crime of violence) the penalty was either indenture for life or death. If an individual convicted of a serious crime was shown to have been a benefit to society, he or she could opt for a lifetime indenture if (and only if) his or her entire immediate family agreed to join in a lifetime indenture. In fact, these families were volunteering to be slaves for life to save their loved one.

There were certain offences that fell into a grey area in terms of seriousness of the offence. Teaching or even discussing the history of the old regime was one of these grey offences. Most people did not care what was discussed or taught but certain powerful government officials cared very much. One had to tread carefully lest these seats of power take offence.

The Case of Jessica Collins, female, age 28:

Jessica Ann Collins 1998- 2026

"This court has found the defendant, Jessica Ann Collins, guilty as charged and sentences her to hang by the neck until she is dead." Jessica's heart skipped a beat and her hand flew involuntarily to her throat. The judge’s voice had sounded cold, dispassionate, and final as she pronounced the words that would end Jessica’s hopes, dreams, and life. The verdict came as no surprise, but she had been unprepared for the sentence of death by hanging. The shock of it almost caused her to miss the Judge's additional comments. "However, in recognition of the defendant's exemplary conduct and contributions to our society prior to the events of March 1st, 2025, and as provided by Section 2 of our statutes, this court chooses to offer commutation of the death sentence to that of indentured servitude for the defendant and each and every member of her immediate family, for the remainder of their lives. This commutation is conditional on the irrevocable agreement of every affected family member. Since one of the family members in question is a legal minor, said agreement may be made by her legal guardian. "The defendant and all affected family members are to return to this court one week hence, that would be May 3, 2026, at 9:00 AM to submit their decision in this matter. This court is adjourned."

The gavel rapped sharply as Jessica mentally reeled. She desperately held on to her husband as everybody started filing out of the courtroom. Almost no one was left now except the Judge, and no officers had come to escort her to prison. Confused, she spoke up.

"Excuse me, Your Honor, isn't somebody going to come and take me away?" The Judge looked up from a sheaf of papers on her desk and replied brusquely. "Ms. Collins, you are sentenced to death, not imprisonment. Just be sure you come back next Friday at 9:00."

Dumbfounded, she and her husband left the courtroom and started home. It made a sort of sense, come to think of it. There was nowhere in the state that she could hide and literally no other place she could go. Both she and Jason were still in shock as they walked silently to their home. The situation had an irony that heightened her sense of nightmarish horror. Her life would be spared only if she, her husband, and their child agreed to subject themselves to what amounted to life-long slavery. She understood that this choice was intended to temper the harshness of the law, and if she had been the only one affected, she would have jumped at the opportunity. However, Jason and Emily were both innocent, and Emily was only two years old! Therefore, it appeared that she was doomed, because she could not do that to her daughter. She would not allow her family to be punished for her guilt.

According to the law she was guilty. Another human being had died because of her criminal negligence. Jessica had been a teacher. A promising student from a powerful family had wanted to study history (which was a dangerous topic in the new era). Jessica had provided materials and direction for the girl, Janet Biden. The girl had begun to question things, especially the recent records of her grandfather. The family had been very upset and, when they planned to removed the girl from school to attend a private academy, she had hanged herself in the school library. Jessica had discovered the body.

The Biden family had not taken the incident well. They held Jessica completely responsible for Janet’s death and wanted revenge. The powerful family was able to demand that the prosecutor press for criminal negligence in the death and to charge Jessica with a capital offence. The family also blocked all avenues of appeal of the almost guaranteed guilty verdict.

Jessica had been friendly with the girl’s family before that incident. She had nearly gone insane with grief and guilt, becoming almost suicidal. But surprisingly, the many in the state seemed to rally to her support. Normally, the people would have had no tolerance for an instigator of old regime politics, but Jessica and her husband were well liked and respected as a helpful, friendly, and hard-working couple almost from the day they had arrived in Delaware, almost five years ago.

After finding the Janet’s body, Jessica had acted responsibly; she had immediately called for an ambulance and accepted full accountability for the tragedy. She was popular, and had shown great remorse. Jessica still had nightmares associated with finding poor Janet Biden’s body. The girl had hanged herself in the school library. Not wanting to damage furniture, Janet had removed her knee high boots and stood on the librarian’s desk to fix the rope around her neck, then stepped off the desk. She had left a note for Jessica inside one of her boots. The investigating police officers found the note which while thanking Jessica for her guidance, implicated her in a criminal act.

Soon the whole state knew all of the details of the affair, and had flooded her with such acceptance and forgiveness that, with the aid of therapy, she had come to accept her culpability without hating herself for it. The state had been generous, giving her the support, space, and time to heal for well over a year. However, the books were not balanced; payment was due, and she was duly summoned to appear at the courthouse on April 29, 2026, to stand trial for the death of Janet Biden. Everybody hoped it would turn out well for her. The family of the dead girl made certain that it did not go well.

It was an open and shut case. Her guilt was a well-established fact, one she made no effort to hide or deny. And the laws of the state were simple and practical. The Biden family, from long practice, was able to bend the laws to exact their revenge on Jessica. She had been doomed from the start.

The following week was hellish. Her husband just would not accept her conviction that there was only one possible choice. While he was horrified at the idea of committing their daughter to permanent servitude, he was even more appalled at the thought of his wife's death. He argued that preserving the family at all costs was best for Emily. Jessica pointed out that the family would be forever separated by the indenture, each going to a different master with little, if any, hope of ever seeing one another again and absolutely no hope of ever living together as a family. They talked it over, they argued furiously, and as the decision date approached, they were continually fighting. She understood what he was going through. In reality, a life of indentured servitude for all of them was a much worse fate than death for her.

His problem was that if he was willing to die for her, how could he accept her dying to save him from a lesser fate? He was a man; he should be able to find a way to rescue her, shouldn't he? She helped him to face himself and understand his motives, and he finally realized that they couldn't ruin Emily's life. He could not sacrifice his freedom to save his wife, as much as he wanted to, because of his responsibility to their daughter. They looked into previous cases. The most recent had been an incident that had occurred about seven years ago; a young mother had been condemned and executed by hanging. The woman’s husband and child had not been penalized in any way. Jessica actually knew the man and could detect no signs of social stigma. She had not even known that the man's wife had been hanged.

The state provided many very significant benefits for children. In addition to the security and lifestyle that was increasingly unavailable anywhere else, every child was guaranteed an education through college, if desired. These benefits had not been denied to the child of the condemned woman. They even heard people who had known the condemned woman speak of her with affection and respect. The fact that she had been executed was never discussed. Jessica had gotten the impression that she had died in an accident. It was strange, but it seemed that once the condemned had paid her debt to society, the books were balanced; there were no hard feelings.

And so, with terrible reluctance, Jason accepted his wife's fate. He never really had any choice in the matter. Even if she had not convinced him, the substitute penalty would not have stood unless they had both agreed to it. Jessica was going to die by hanging in one week.

They went to the court house together, she announced the decision to the Judge, and a date was set for her execution. "Jessica Ann Collins, one week from today, on Friday, the 10th day of May, you will report to Kennedy Park at 11:00 AM, at which time you will be hanged by the neck until you are dead. May God have mercy on your soul." The judge’s clerk gave Jessica a large envelope containing several brochures, which he told her to read before the following Friday.

Again, she was free to go, until the appointed date. Again, they walked home, but the situation had changed and she felt different this time, more resolute, more accepting, her fear of dying at least partially alleviated by the reassurance of Jason's strong arm around her waist. At the same time, she was suffering from a guilty conscience because there was a part of her that quivered in anticipation, that actually desired the fate that awaited her in one week. The deeply-buried corner of her psyche that viewed her sentence as the culmination of years of hidden fantasies ...

She had been quite young; her frank, uninhibited sexuality had been as yet uncharted territory. She was somewhat interested in the opposite sex and many of her friends and acquaintances were actually sexually active, but she preferred to spend her time dancing. She had studied since an early age: ballet, jazz, and modern. She was considered to be quite talented, though at only 5 feet 1 inch, she was too short to be a dancer. A knee injury when she was 16 ended her dance career.

During a school assignment, Jessica discovered some art work on women being executed. Several hanging scenes were fascinating to her. Jessica's mind had just exploded as her imagination flooded with images, questions, and fantasies, the cleft between her legs to flooding as well. How would that feel? What would it be like to watch that? What if it was me?!

She had had her first orgasm that night, several orgasms, actually. She had become obsessed, feverishly seeking any information, any material she could get her hands on. But she never told anybody about it, because she knew it was shameful, forbidden. She had learned that hanging was neither an easy or pretty way to go. She had learned that hanging victims usually took a long time to die, sometimes over a half hour, at least until the late nineteenth century. Compelled to experience their agonies, she had wrapped a sash around her neck and pulled it tight, tighter, as tight as she could; her throat had spasmed from the awful pressure and her lungs had burned with hunger for air before she finally had to let go. She had come violently afterwards, as she imagined what it would be like to strangle again, this time with her hands tied behind her back.

And so she grew into a strikingly beautiful young woman: a lithe dancer's body, slender with firm athlete’s breasts. She had accepted the fact that her body was unsuitable for professional dance, maintaining her interest in dance on a recreational basis while making her living as a teacher. And she had developed an easy, confident sexuality -- fueled by the darkest of fantasies. And now, in one week's time, her deepest, darkest desires would be realized, by her own decision. Had she chosen as she had for the right reasons? Or was she depriving her husband of his wife, bereaving her own daughter, just to fulfill some sick fantasy? Intellectually, she was sure that her choice was the only right one. But on a deeper level, she was far from certain. She resolved that she would tell her husband everything before it was too late.

The week went by too quickly. She stayed at home, doing everything she could think of to soften the blow to Jason and Emily. On the Monday before her final day, she visited the town’s largest Cemetery and purchased a gravesite for herself. The salesman knew that she would be lying in the grave in just a week. Jessica had a difficult time with the purchase but she wanted to save Jason the pain of choosing her grave after her death. The salesman told her that the grave would be opened and waiting when the deceased was ready. He then directed her to the Kendal Mortuary. Jessica needed to organize her final arrangements (funeral plans). She saw Kendal; he assisted her to pick out her casket and discussed her wishes. He also reviewed (to Jessica’s horror) the personal care that she, as the deceased, would receive. Kendal had expected to see Jessica or her husband since he already knew of her pending execution (Kendal was the County Coroner).

Jessica left the mortuary feeling physically ill, she knew that she would be back here on Friday sometime after 12:00 Noon. She shuddered as she thought of herself laid out in Kendal’s morgue as he prepared her body for burial.

While Jessica was making her funeral plans, Kendal appraised her good looks and approved. He would have liked to have examined her more closely but knew that he’d see her in a few days. He looked forward to seeing her again as a customer but he said nothing to her about that.

She spent hours with Emily, trying to imprint memories of her in Emily's young mind, remembrances that would carry her through the period of grief that was to follow. She gave herself totally to Jason, her attempts to wait on him hand and foot turning comic at times as he tried to do the same for her. They cried and laughed together and grew closer than they ever had been before. She wanted to give her husband something to remember her by, to make their last night together truly unforgettable. She would try to fulfill his every fantasy; then she would confess her own. On her last evening, they dropped their 2-year-old, Emily, off at her sister's house.

She and her sister went off together to another room and wept together in each other's arms as her sister begged her forgiveness for having "lured" her to the state. She assured her sister that it was not her fault in any way, that their move to the Delaware had probably saved their lives, at the time. Her sister swore she would look after Emily and Jason. They dried their tears and ventured back out. She hugged and kissed her daughter goodbye, desperately keeping in control as she exchanged bright farewells with her sister, both straining to maintain cheery conversation and bright smiles on their faces for Emily's sake. Finally, she tore herself from her daughter, ripping a part of her own soul loose as she released her. As her parents departed, the little girl trotted cheerfully over to her Aunt. Jessica completely broke down on the way home, weeping bitterly over the loss of the child she would never see again. Jason consoled her as best he could, gather her into his arms as they reached their house and carrying her into the bedroom. He held her on their bed, stroking her back and murmuring comfortingly.

Jason slowly soothed her, and soon her natural sensuousness responded to their closeness as she began seeking a different kind of consolation from him. Their lovemaking started tenderly, but became more urgent as comprehension that this was their last night of love drove them to wild abandon. They urged each other to insane rapture, for the moment driving out the grief and fear both felt. She screamed as she danced on the tip of his tongue, peaking over and over; they cried out together as his powerful thrusts pushed them both over the edge.

Jessica stood before Jason. She was wearing a thin green camisole and he could see every curve of her beautiful body through the thin material. Jason could not believe that this was Jessica’s last night alive. She was so beautiful and so alive right now. "Hey," he said, sitting up and facing her. "We've been talking about my fantasies; what about yours? What's your deepest, darkest desire?"

That was the opening she had been waiting for; it was now or never. Her stomach turned uneasily as she began, dreading his reaction. "This is probably going to freak you out, but..." She told him everything, starting at the very beginning. He listened intently, completely absorbed, occasionally asking questions, his face inscrutable. She concluded, now weeping, "... and now I'm just torn apart! I knew I had to tell you but I've been worried sick ... I was so afraid that you'd think I was purposely trying to commit suicide or something ... Hell, I'm not sure any more that I'm not!”

He took her hands, looking intently into her eyes. "Jessica...do you want to die? I mean, suppose they were going to shoot you, or whatever; would you want that to happen?" She shook her head, sniffling, “No, of course I don’t want to die but that is what is going to happen whether I want it or not.”

He continued. "Well, if they were going to shoot you, would you still choose death to save our daughter? She nodded, unable to speak. He stared at her for what seemed a long time. "I think I understand, at least a little, why that turns you on," he finally said slowly. "Sex is so intertwined with violence and death ...I think it's part of the way we handle the fear. I've had pretty violent fantasies myself. Tears were now filling his eyes. "You know," he said with difficulty, "if this whole thing is a turn-on for you, I should be glad! Maybe it won't be so bad when they actually..." he couldn't bring himself to say the words. He went on. "And I don't think you let it influence you. You made the right decision, the choice any decent mother would make. I don't think you're trying to commit suicide. You're just trying to save your child." He broke down, trying to speak through his crying. "I just wish ... there has to be some way I could save you!" He was barely coherent now. "Jess, I ... I just don't think I can go through with it. I mean, watching you ...Not being able to..."

She was calm now; it was her turn to comfort him. "Jason, you can't beat yourself up like that. The whole thing's not your fault! This is real life, it doesn't work like the movies. The only thing you can do ... the only thing I want you to do is to be there for Emily, starting tomorrow. Don't even go with me or go there at all, I ... I want you to remember me from tonight, not from tomorrow." She continued, now holding him close. "You've already done everything you can for me. This last week ... it's been like heaven. I'm just so grateful for the time we've had." There was one last thing she had to tell him. Damn, she hated to say this; the thought of some other woman getting her clutches on him! Oh, well ... "Jason, I want you to remarry as soon as you can. Emily needs a mother, and you need a woman. I know that Elizabeth has had her eye on you for a while, and that you're attracted to her." He opened his mouth to interrupt but she went on. "I know you haven't done anything with her! You've always been faithful. You've always been a perfect husband to me. All I'm saying is that if you want to marry her, or anybody else, you have my blessing. All right?" He nodded, now breathing deeply, exhausted by the force of his emotional outburst. She laid him down on the bed, curled up against him. "You going to be all right?" His hand reached behind, patted her as he yawned. "Yeah, I'm…getting sleepy. How 'bout you?"

"I'll be fine," she replied softly. "I'm sleepy, too. Sure could use a cigarette, though." She had quit smoking when pregnant with Emily. "Sorry, babe, I'm all out," he replied sleepily. He had never smoked. "I'll try to remember and get you some tomorrow." They had both fallen asleep almost immediately afterwards.

When she awakened, it was morning, and as she had expected, he was already gone. She shrugged sadly, and began getting ready. She administered enemas to clear her bowel. This was recommended by the court instructions. After the third, she was completely clear. She then ran a bath. After bathing, she sat at her vanity; the mirror she was facing was slightly fogged up. She had washed and dried her long, fine hair, and now she was brushing it out. She studied her reflection critically. She really wanted to look her best today, since it was to be her last day. She was totally engrossed, floating in an uncharacteristically narcissistic reverie that almost obscured the paralyzing terror, the trembling anticipation. She was still struggling to accept what today would bring. Jessica began to feel a tingling in the pit of her stomach. She knew that it was the beginnings of fear of what was about to happen, the coming event was almost too enormous for her to comprehend. For the past week she had been telling herself that this was really a way for the state to scare her, that there was no real danger of being put to death. She stared at her reflection for a long moment, “No”, she thought, “this is real, it is not just a way to scare me, I won’t be alive this afternoon.”

The brochures from the court (which she had read during her “last” week as she privately called it) were explicit instructions for women (“There must be another set for men,” she thought.) who were under a death sentence. The information was blunt and to the point, it was mainly concerned with the condemned woman’s preparation for the “procedure” as they called it. No reference was made to an execution or hanging, just the “procedure.” The condemned were referred to as “patients.” Jessica was both upset and amused by the information.

The brochure discussed recommended patient attire for the procedure—dressy but not too formal (no slacks, shorts or jeans were allowed) and strongly recommended taking care when they approached the procedure site, some women due to nervousness had tripped in their high heeled shoes and injured themselves. Jessica had grimly mused, “I certainly wouldn’t want to be ‘injured’ while I was being hanged. And I can’t be hanged in slacks, jeans, or shorts; they have a dress code for executions!” There were several paragraphs on sanitary precautions that the “patient” should take before the “procedure.”

A second brochure explained the post-procedure activity (Jessica assumed that she would not need to concern herself with that). The post procedural activity included allowing the “patient” to remain on the apparatus for at least an hour to insure that the procedure was successful. “What an awful thing to do to someone,” thought Jessica, “I take this to mean that my body will hang on the gallows for an hour to make certain that I’m dead!” The next passage covered the removal of the patient to a post-procedural care facility (the morgue, she assumed) for examination and washing of the patient. There was also a scheduled Coroner’s Inquest and Post-procedure quality review, which would begin promptly at 3:30 PM on the day of the procedure. Jessica was not particularly interested in the “post-procedure” activity for an obvious reason. She was mildly amused by the verbiage and horrified by the matter of fact discussion. She did read the next brochure with a sad interest.

A third brochure described the return of the patient to the family and the options (including costs) for funeral services. Patients were encouraged to plan for their “final needs” another euphemism, with some care. The families would be comforted by this closure and the patient could attend the procedure with greater ease if she knew that all the final needs were planned. “Yes,” Jessica reflected wryly, “I will certainly be much happier when they hang me now that I know that my funeral is already planned. My God, is this some sort of bad joke?” The court brochure indicated that a public viewing of the patient was a final requirement of the “procedure.” “My God, they require a viewing,” Jessica had said to herself.

These brochures were chillingly amusing. This society treated executions as if they were outpatient surgery procedures. They were planning a quality review after her execution! They expected the “patients” to follow a dress code for their execution! She wondered, “If I show up in shorts and a tank top, will they send me home?” She had read the information earlier in the week and was upset by all of it. It seemed so unreal, yet today was the day. In a little while, she would walk out of this house, never to return.

All week long, she had obsessed over how she would look today. She had spent the bulk of her time with her husband and child, but whenever she was alone with her thoughts, she would daydream, fantasize almost, about her final appearance. Her narcissism gratified her in a perverse, yet very powerful way, alleviating the mounting horror of her impending doom. How she would dress her hair. Almost ...what role she would play. In the end, her choice had reflected her own sense of personal style and complexity. Playing the part of herself, combining her propensities toward elegance and sensuality.

She applied makeup sparingly: just a touch of blush to add a little color to her creamy skin, a highlight of shadow on her eyelids, topped off with a natural gloss on her full lips. On a quixotic impulse, she dabbed on her favorite perfume. She checked her hands and feet. Her manicure and pedicure was perfect, she was wearing a delicate shade of rose-pink nail polish on her fingers and toes. Now for her earrings, tiny pearl studs. “I suppose that I will have to remove these later,” she thought. She added a thin gold chain and cross, her rings, and wrist watch.

The face staring back at her from the mirror was striking. Her make up and long hair had emphasized her long, graceful throat and the aristocratic, almost stern facial planes which were softened by her wide, slightly up-tilted, heavy-lidded deep blue eyes and soft, full lips.

She stood, slipped out of her bathrobe, and studied her reflection in the full-length mirror on the door. Holding up quite well, considering that she was almost twenty-nine. Wouldn't have to hold up much longer, she reflected. Long legs, slim hips, and slimmer waist. Her breasts might be described as perky. She had finally lost that extra weight she had gained while pregnant with Emily, a two-year battle. She slapped her flat belly and smiled somewhat grimly. Lost all that weight just in time for...this.

She walked into the bedroom and started dressing. First panties then stockings. “No,” she thought, “that brochure from the court had recommended a sanitary belt and heavy napkin. God! They must mean that I’ll be leaking when I’m hanging up there.” She put the panties back in the drawer and inserted a heavy flow tampon into her vagina. She though a moment and inserted a second tampon into her rectum. The tampons were much thicker and firmer than she was accustomed to using. She felt them inside her as she moved around, it was a strangely full and pleasurable feeling. As she adjusted the sanitary belt and napkin so that it was very snug, she thought, “Well, at least I won’t make a mess, and the only one who will know about this besides me will be the undertaker,” she shuddered. She realized that the undertaker would be undressing her body later. She pulled her pantyhose on over the sanitary belt and napkin. The pantyhose were very sheer and quite expensive but she considered that this was her last opportunity to wear such finery.

Jessica pulled a bra from her dresser, and considered. She had always wanted to wear the blouse she had chosen without a bra, though she was not sure. She would try it braless; she put the bra back in the drawer opting for a short white silk camisole. Her blouse was a loose, flowing, long-sleeved, white silk with thin white stripes. She was pleased with the effect; her breasts were almost, but not quite visible through the fabric and were still firm enough to provide plenty of support. She paired the blouse with a tight plum colored skirt, mid-thigh length. Jessica looked at her black kid pumps then picked up her black ballet flats and slipped them on. The Repetto ballet flats had no heels and were cut low in the vamp to reveal a moderate toe cleavage—very soft, very sexy, and very expensive. Jessica sighed, her outfit would probably look better if she wore heels but she didn’t want to trip and twist an ankle or worse on her way to the park, “I had better be careful walking, I suppose it would not be good to trip and break my neck before they hang me.”

Jessica’s flats were stylish being very much like ballet slippers, but with a lower vamp, they were not made for long walks. The town park was just a short distance from her house (just about two blocks) and, she thought grimly, “I won’t have to walk back from the park.”

She was ready. The fear returned, replacing the pleasurable distraction of her narcissistic musings. She sat for a moment feeling the tampons and the bulky sanitary napkin, which pressed on her clitoris. The total sensation was not unpleasant and she began to feel aroused. She felt a shudder of dread come over her. “In a few hours Mr. Kendal will be undressing me. Will he laugh at my silly sanitary precautions? Or will he admire my body as a jewel,” she grimly mused.

Seeking something else to divert the direction her thoughts were taking, she began making the bed, the rumpled sheets bringing a sad smile to her lips as she recalled the cause of their disarray. Last night had been the hottest encounter she had ever had, with Jason or anybody else. She knew that Jason felt the same way. It was just so tragic that after discovering that her husband had a deliciously dark streak to his sexuality, she would have no opportunity to explore it further. She sighed, but then smiled, somewhat smugly. Let's see if his next wife could top last night's performance!

Jessica had a final task to perform. She wrote a short note to Jason regarding her funeral wishes. This act was very strange to her, she was a young, beautiful woman completing the plans for her own funeral, which would be held in a few days. She realized that because of her sentence, a public and viewing would be held. Since she had to appear, she might as well look good for her last appearance. However, Jessica knew that Jason would be lost for a few weeks and any help that she could provide would help him and Emily get through all this. Jessica specified the type of service, her hairstyle, how she would be dressed, the flowers, music, and even the type of casket in which she would spend eternity. She asked Jason to make sure that she had her manicure and pedicure touched up for her final appearance. She laid out a new white silk nightgown. With the gown, she placed her favorite perfume, makeup, and lipstick. She wanted to look her best as she lay in her coffin.

Jessica completed her instruction note to Jason, saying that she was thinking of this as a long sleep, the silk nightgown would be her only garment as she slept through eternity. “Don’t bother with shoes or slippers for me, my darling, just think of me as going for a long nap,” she had written, “I love you and our darling daughter, and when you and Emily are happy, I will know it and I will be happy. I will always watch over the both of you wherever I am. All my love forever, Jess,” she concluded with tears in her eyes. She finished the note and kissed it.

The time was 10:40 AM. She gave the house a once over; no doubt people would be coming over afterward. Once again, she shuddered. People always dropped in after there was a death in the family. Today, it was her death that everyone would be coming here to discuss…or morn, she hoped. Jessica laid out the coffee and dissert things. She left another short note in the kitchen for Jason, telling him where the extra plates and napkins were kept. She apologized because she did not have time to run to the store for pastries.

There was a knock at the front door. Jessica saw a man and a young woman neither of whom she knew. She opened the door and the woman said, “good morning Mrs. Collins, we are here to escort you to Kennedy Park.” The woman offered no threat but she had a very stern and unfriendly demeanor; her presence caused Jessica to tremble—this was really the end for her. There was no way to back out or escape.

Jessica picked up her purse and house keys then paused. The female court officer firmly told to Jessica that she would not need these things any more. Jessica trembled, she would not be returning to this house, ever again. Sadly, she laid the purse and keys on the kitchen table. Jessica was unaware that this court officer was a member of the Biden family. The woman, in a very officious tone, told Jessica that for her, there was no possibility of escape or forgiveness; the woman went on to say that she would be dead before noon. It would be better if she came quietly but if she insisted, the group could drag her to the gallows.

Jessica gasped at this threat but realized that this was truly her end. She looked around at her home for the last time, the house was impeccably neat and clean, and, having no excuse for further delay, she drew a deep breath, stepped out the door, and started walking up the street.

Both her terror and anticipation had returned in force, the opposing tensions slowly unraveling her grasp of reality. She felt a sick giddiness in her stomach. This moment was almost a dream to her. Jessica told herself that she was actually walking to the gallows to be hanged. She experienced an almost hallucinatory certainty that everybody who lived on the street was peeking at her through drawn shades. Of course, that was foolish; most of the windows were uncovered. However, the street was completely deserted. She tried to distract her mind. It certainly was a lovely day. But then, it was nearly always beautiful on the town. The street looked especially pretty, neat, clean, and well kept. Of course, all of the streets were that way. She remembered her first impression of this town; it had seemed like an enchanted haven. They were like so many other couples who had ended up in Delaware seeking asylum from a world where survival itself had become problematic. They had come to improve their lives. Her sister had lived here in Delaware for years, and Jessica’s skills were needed, so she and her husband were allowed to emigrate and help was provided to get them there.

And now, her final destination was on the street directly ahead. A right turn at the corner would bring her within sight of the entrance to Kennedy Park. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she approached the intersection, anticipating her first view of the place where she would be put to death. The tension was becoming almost unbearable; her sense of reality was rapidly dwindling. Somewhere in her thoughts, she had failed to grasp the exact implications of what was about to happen to her. In about 10 minutes, she was going to be put to death. She thought, “this is it, I am going to die here. It is 10 minutes to 11 in the morning and when my friends look for me at 1:00 this afternoon, I won’t be here. I won’t be anywhere, I won’t be…!”

How could she be walking calmly to her own execution as if she was strolling to the store? Shouldn't she be running in panic, chased by a mob? Jessica’s romantic fantasy of an erotic hanging was fading quickly in the light of reality. She hesitated at the curb but her escorts urged her forward.

It seemed that her body was under another's control, as it soon would be. Her feet just kept marching on and on, the corner approaching with nightmarish inevitability...She really did not know exactly what was going to happen. She wondered how many people would be there; would the area be roped off, with only a carefully selected panel of witnesses allowed to watch? And what would they see? She knew hanging could involve anything from an instant death from a snapped neck to a prolonged ordeal by slow strangulation. Her inquiries into the most recent execution had revealed no details of the actual method used, and she had not been able to summon the courage to ask anybody.

She reached the corner, turned and halted, stunned, as the vision in front of her registered. Kennedy Park, directly ahead, was crammed with people. There must be at least five thousand spectators!

Death in the Park

"Oh my God, the whole town must be here!" she said aloud, in shock. She was momentarily paralyzed; the crowd itself was somehow more frightful than what was going to happen to her. But then, she saw Jason walking toward her, he had obviously been waiting close to the corner. She felt almost faint from relief as he wordlessly wrapped her in his arms.

"You came after all," she sighed, her dark blue eyes smiling through the sparkle of tears. Jessica noticed a hearse parked off to the side of the park gate, she shuddered, “it’s here for me.” The hearse was from Kendal’s Funeral Home. She had been informed by the court that Kendal would be holding a Coroner’s Inquest on her body after her execution.

Jessica felt a shudder but tried to brighten her mood. “I’m glad to see that my ride is here,” she said, “these shoes were not made for walking, my feet are beginning to hurt.” Jessica smiled weakly through her tears, she was trying to joke, but it fell flat. “I guess that I should stay away from the ‘gallows humor’ today,” she said. He nodded solemnly, obviously holding himself under rigid control. Being strong, for her. He reached into his suit pocket, brought out a pack of cigarettes.

"Oh, you darling, you remembered! That's exactly what I needed." They were Players, her favorite brand; they were definitely hazardous to her health but it didn’t matter now. She slipped one from the offered pack, bringing it to her lips as Jason flicked a plastic lighter, savored the bite at the back of her throat, and slowly, shakily, breathed out smoke. She turned back toward the scene, leaning against him as she smoked. He wrapped his arms around her waist, offering needed physical support; she was still reeling from the sheer size of the crowd.

The park was bordered with a rustic-looking wooden fence, which ended on both sides of the park entrance with two thick posts. Just inside the entrance, a wooden stage had been built. The stage was about three feet above the ground. There was an upright beam on either side of the stage supporting a large cross beam. The cross beam was about 10 feet above the stage floor. There was a stool much like a kitchen step stool under the beam. A lone figure was on a ladder leaning against the beam, attaching a rope; a rope with a noose at the end.

Then, the preparations nearly complete, the ladder was removed and a tall step stool was placed directly under the noose. And now she knew now exactly how she would die.

A shudder of simultaneous horror and titillation went through her body as she saw herself choking to death, her body struggling uncontrollably, in front of the huge crowd. She perversely found herself wondering if anybody in the crowd would enjoy watching her die in that way.

"So," she said in a low voice, almost to herself. "This is not going to be easy ..." Jason cleared his throat but his voice still cracked. "They told me that if... if I stay here I must agree to be restrained by guards”, his demeanor cracked as he began to cry.

Jessica had finished her cigarette and she turned away from the sight, toward Jason. She held him tightly and spoke against his chest.

"Remember what I told you last night." He nodded, unable to speak, and they kissed. When they released each other and turned back toward the park, the preparations had been completed and a figure was beckoning to them. Jessica felt sick again. She removed her earrings, gold neck chain, rings, and watch and handed them to Jason. “These are for Emily,” she told him with a tear in her eye.

"Well," she said lightly, "duty calls. Shall we go?" He silently offered his arm, she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and they promenaded toward the group, walking erectly with pride, showing none of the crippling dread and grief they both felt. Jessica noticed a large tent and catering truck set up just inside the park. The town’s people were going to have the usual Friday afternoon picnic after her execution. The picnic was a weekly event that was popular throughout the spring and summer on the town. Friday picnics usually began promptly at 12:30 PM. Jessica reflected that today’s picnic was a sure sign that life would go on as usual without her.

As they walked toward the gallows, Jessica’s resolve to go calmly to her death began to dissolve. She felt her knees begin to weaken as she began to feel sick to her stomach. Her real fear came from the shadows. When they reached the makeshift gallows, Jason kissed Jessica for the last time, Jessica returned the kiss with passion, “goodbye my darling” she whispered, “pray for my and take care of our little girl.” Jason tearfully handed her over to the man waiting there and was escorted to a position at the front of the crowd where he stood, all his attention on her, ignoring the crowd all about him. Jessica was beginning to tremble. Three of the town security guards stood with Jason. Jessica had been handed over to Sam Johnson, an elderly man who owned and operated a hardware store where she had often shopped. She liked him; they had often conversed at his shop. He reminded her strongly of her father. He took her hand in a courtly manner and greeted her, no emotions of any kind in his voice.

"Good morning, Mrs. Collins. I have the duty to act as your executioner today”, he said in a solemn voice. “ You are condemned to hang by the neck until you are dead.”

She nodded, her strangely nonchalant gesture a weak attempt to mask her mounting terror. She bit back the hysterical laughter threatening to bubble out of her throat. She was losing her grip on reality; for an instant, his face looked just like her father's. She replied with forced composure.

"I understand, Mr. Johnson. I'm sure you'll do an effective job of it." She managed a tremulous smile.

Trying to be light hearted, Jessica said, “I’m glad to see that the Friday picnic won’t be interrupted, though I think that I’ll be skipping lunch today, Mr. Johnson. Somehow, I don’t think I’ll have much of an appetite later. Can you apologize to the picnic committee for me?” She gave him a weak smile. Johnson said nothing, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her toward the platform beneath the noose.

“Isn’t this a beautiful day, Mr. Johnson”, she asked, “It’s much too nice a day to think of …what we’re here for.” Jessica was talking just to delay this, she did not even realize what she was doing, and she was trying to stay in contact with life and the living. Her resolve to go through with this was failing fast.

They are now approaching a small tent next to the platform and Jessica was led in by Mr. Johnson inside. After they are both inside Mr. Johnson closed the flaps. It was an empty tent only big enough to fit four people. Jessica gave a confused look to Mr. Johnson, but he explained. “I have to make sure you are not carrying anything dangerous and prepare you for the execution, so please bare with me.”

Johnson had watched Jessica’s approach. He knew her from his store. He had always looked at her as one of those “holier than thou” types who thought that they were too good for the common folk. Johnson expected her show of bravado; almost everyone did that when they came here to hang. They all took the sentence as a sort of joke, then tried to play for time when they realized that there was no joke and no time. “Well, little lady,” he thought, “The joking ends right here.”

“Just try to relax, Mrs. Collins,” Johnson calmly said as he turned her around to face away from him, “it’s best if we just get this over with.” Johnson’s comment was not delivered in an unkind tone, it was simply a matter of fact. Jessica began to shake her head but knew that she had no choice. Her resolve cracked, then completely crumbled. There were tears forming in her eyes. “Please no,” she whispered, “please, just give me a few more days.” Faced with the means of her death, Jessica wanted to live. She would pay any price to be able to live her life.

He stepped closer behind her. "Give me your hands, please."

She put her hands behind her back and stood trembling, as he pinned her wrists together with one large hand while wrapping several turns of rope around them. He cinched between them tightly, drawing a gasp from her as the rope bit in. He pulled the rope tight, as he apologized, "Sorry, ma'am, got to get it good and tight; you'll be really pulling at it when you're hanging." Jessica closed her eyes and whispered, “please don’t do this to me, I don’t want to die this way.” There were more tears forming. She felt his hands brush up and down the sides of her body, then she felt him squeeze her breasts. “Hey!” she yelped. “keep calm, Mr. Collins, it’s all part of the protocol.” Is the only answer she got. Mr. Johnson squeezed her breasts for long time and even slide his hands under her bra to feel around before he withdrew his hands. Then she felt his hands on the inside of her thighs and brushing up her crotch feeling her sanitary napkin. “ok Mr. Collins I’ve completed the search, now please follow me.” Mr. Johnson said, satisfied. Jessica turned around to be led out swearing she saw a smile on Mr. Collin’s face. Jessica was to the stairs of the platform and is now staring at the crowd.

He straightened up behind her as she gritted her teeth, her wrists already throbbing. He took her by the arm, escorting her closer to the platform under the noose. She tried to resist moving toward the short set of steps to the platform but it was a very feeble attempt. She stood looking up at the brutal noose that would soon claim her life. She shook her head, “Please don’t.”

"This way, ma'am, the court says that you have to hang today and that’s all there is to it. Let’s just get on with this.” said Johnson. He forced her up the four steps.

Jessica was startled from her contemplation of the noose. She regained a little of her composure. The platform was about 10 feet by 10 feet with the stool in the middle. “We need to get your shoes off, Mrs. Collins,” said Johnson. Without waiting for Jessica to respond, his assistant stooped to grasp Jessica’s right ankle while Johnson held her shoulders. Jessica felt her shoe being removed, then the other shoe was off. She felt the warmth of the sun warmed platform on the soles of her feet. Jessica’s voice was very shaky, “Please…I have to pee”, she said quietly.

“Just let it go, Mrs. Collins”, said Johnson, “It doesn’t matter now.” Johnson then unbuttoned the top two buttons on Jessica’s blouse and folded the blouse collar under so as not to catch in the noose. Jessica stood trembling in her stocking feet with her neck bared, she was nearing a mental collapse. The men helped her up on the stool. Jessica was trembling badly as the men turned her to face the waiting crowd. She pitched her shaky voice so that only he could hear. "Are you going to tie my feet?" Jessica was becoming very nervous; her death was immediately in front of her now.

Johnson grimaced, "Yes, I'm going tie your feet, Mrs. Collins, it will be a little bit easier for you if you don’t kick too much." He hesitated, then continued. "It might save some of your dignity if you try to stay quiet while you hang; it will be easier on you if you do. But it really doesn’t matter"

She hesitated, gulping at the explicit reference to her impending ordeal, then nodded. “Oh my God, no,” she whispered, “please don’t do this.” She felt an overwhelming sadness and glanced around, “one last look,” she thought. Jessica recoiled a bit, she saw the Biden family, including the children, standing in a group very close to Jason. She saw the waiting hearse again and knew that it really was here for her! The hearse was only about 10 feet away from where she was standing. The driver, Kendal’s assistant was leaning on the hood of the vehicle staring open mouthed at her; he had just unloaded an ambulance stretcher. The hearse driver looked like a typical low life that she would never have given the time of day to but he was going to be alive in an hour and she was not. Jessica shivered at the thought of that creepy boy touching her. Soon, she’d be in that hearse, lying in the back on that stretcher she imagined, but would not know it. She wouldn’t know anything ever again! Many in the crowd were staring at her with a look of anticipation on their faces. She shuddered.

The noose bumped gently against her head, the rope, stiff, and almost an inch thick. Jessica looked over the crowd. There were thousands of eyes on her. Some of the faces registered pity but many more were staring wide-eyed, taking in every movement. She noticed a number of cameras in the gathering. “My God,” she thought, “these people are recording my death as if my hanging was some sort of dance performance.” She lowered her gaze. She could still feel the weight of the crowd’s attention on her. Her earlier coolness was gone and a paralyzing fear was beginning to emerge. She was wishing that she had chosen a life of slavery over death.

“Put your feet together, Mrs. Collins”, said Johnson. He quickly tied Jessica’s ankles. She had to bend her knees slightly to balance. Standing in her stocking feet and attempting to balance on the stool was difficult for Jessica; she needed to be steadied by Johnson’s assistant. Johnson had placed a small set of steps right next to the step stool. He then stepped up on the steps behind her he asked her if she had any last words for the crowd. She looked down and shook her head. Johnson started placing a thin black hood over her head, but she stopped him. "Please, no. I don't want to die in the dark." He hesitated and said, “OK, Mrs. Collins.” She was taking fast shallow breaths. Her stress was evident on her face and in her voice.

With no further ado, Johnson draped the noose over her head. Jessica tried to pull her head away as Johnson was placing the noose around her neck and nearly fell from the stool. She cried, “Oh God, please no, please don’t do this.”

The rope was around her neck. She could feel its weight and rough texture. She swallowed as Johnson gently adjusted the noose, but then she felt him brushing against her breasts with his thumb or the back of his hand, she wanted to complain but the feeling the rough fiber against the tender flesh of her throat and the weight of the massive knot, directly behind her head was more pressing. She choked a bit. She felt as if the rope was already cutting off her breath, it was a snug fit. Jessica gave a small cough. “It’s too tight Mr. Johnson,” she gasped, “please take it off.”

Johnson said in low, patient voice, “I’m sorry Mrs. Collins, the noose has to be tight to do its job properly. We can’t take it off until this job is all done.” As he said that Jessica noticed one of his hand is almost fully resting on her breast. She was about to protest when Mr. Johnson tightened the noose again cause Jessica to gag and choke before giving it a little slack.

Many in the crowd could hear the exchange and were amused that this rich city girl was begging for her life. The Biden family standing very close was pointing at her and laughing; they were very amused with Jessica’s situation.

Johnson stepped down from behind her. Jessica barely recovered from the gagging and is now tensed in near panic. She felt a flutter in her stomach and a tingling in her crotch. Her heart was pounding. She straightened her posture and felt the tampons rubbing and putting pressure on her bladder. This was it! She shut her eyes tightly as she waited for the step stool to be pulled from under her feet. “Oh God”, Jessica prayed, “into your hands I commend my soul.” She took a deep breath. “Here goes…,” she muttered to no one in particular.

Her eyes opened as she heard the crowd applaud. Governor Biden was making his way to the front of the crowd; he stepped up onto the platform. Jessica's knees felt weak at the combined relief and dismay at the momentary reprieve. As the Governor was about to begin his address to the crowd, he looked at Jessica with a smirking grin.

Jessica felt faint and might have fallen had it not been for Johnson and the other man supporting her. In the speech the Governor referred to Jessica as ‘this wretched woman’ over and over. He was basically congratulating the court on the demise of this criminal. The Governor spent some words discounting her various accomplishments, services, and various testimonials of people who apparently thought she was a paragon of virtue.

The tone of the oration did much to increase Jessica’s acute embarrassment, the mortification of being on display in front of her friends, neighbors, co-workers and the whole town, in such a compromising position. She felt as much as saw all the eyes on her, taking in her plight, helplessly perched on a three-foot pedestal, hands tied behind her back, her feet tied, the uncomfortably tight noose around her neck linking her with centuries of condemned felons, despised, pitied, wretched. Suddenly a warm wet feeling began in her groin. She felt liquid running down her legs and onto her feet, she sobbed. Her face flushed with the ignominy of it all, and she dropped her head, burning with shame. The crowd saw and laughed at the large dark stain that was growing on the front of her skirt.

Because she was so tightly bound, when she straightened her legs, she could feel the tampons in her vagina and rectum. Their bulk made her feel very full and the friction was causing her to lubricate herself. “Oh my God”, she thought, “what a time to get excited.” Despite her earlier bravado, Jessica was shaking from the thoughts of her impending doom.

Her profound humiliation due to her impending death was increased by the urine running down her legs. Many of the crowd saw the wetness and howled with laughter at Jessica’s humiliation.

Her embarrassment deepened as she imagined that the spectators could detect her arousal; surely, they could see her hard nipples through her blouse, they must be able to see the wetness between her legs. As her anxiety mounted, so did her excitement.

The speech droned on, the town clock struck 11:00; the Governor was now expounding on the regrettable necessity for harsh penalties and the choice Jessica had made.

She could feel the sanitary napkin filling with her vaginal secretions. She couldn’t help herself as she thought, “Oh my God, I’m, so wet! I’ll really be giving the undertaker a show later today.” She began to tremble. “Easy Mrs. Collins, this will just be a few minutes more,” whisper Sam Johnson.

“Oh God, Oh God, Oh God”, she repeated quietly. Her body continued to tremble. Johnson and the other man supporting her thought that she was near collapse. The men could feel her shaking.

Her perception of reality was now stretched very thin by her excitement and terror. She suddenly knew, beyond a doubt, that every man in the crowd was lusting after her. She could feel their eyes burning her, undressing her; she was positive her body was driving every male in sight out of their minds. They couldn't wait to see her hang!

The Governor finally concluded: "...and while we understand that this wretched woman cannot be allowed to live among us, and that she must be put to death, we feel a deep sense of duty well done in carrying out her death. We will be convening a Coroner’s Jury at 3:30 PM at the Kendal Funeral Home today." He nodded to Johnson, "You may proceed with the execution."

Johnson and his assistant steadied Jessica on the step stool and moved into position. The speech and all the eyes staring at her disoriented Jessica. The Governor’s final words brought the event in to focus for her. She was about to die. Jessica began to breath rapid, shallow breaths. Her mind was being overwhelmed by what was about to be; in a few seconds, she would be hanging by her neck in front of all these people. When they took her down from the noose, she would be dead!

Swenson climbed on a short stool and asked Jessica, “Do you have any last wishes before the sentence is carried out, Mrs. Collins?” Jessica was trembling, nearly out of her mind, she cried, “Please don’t take away my life, please don’t do this!”

Many of the those present heard Jessica’s plea and laughed. “Let’s see her dance, Swenson!” The crowd shouted. Swenson then tightened the noose around Jessica’s neck. Jessica choked softly due to the now very snug fit of the noose.

Oh God, she thought, this is really it.

Jessica stood trembling with the noose around her neck. She tired to beg the assistant executioner to give her just a few more days to live. The man just laughed and said, “your time is about over lady, now we stretch your neck.”

Jessica saw Johnson attach two stout cords to the legs of her stool. He passed the cords to the Biden family gathered in front of the platform. Jessica heard Johnson behind her. "Ready, ma'am?" he murmured. Her terror surged, almost surpassing her sexual excitement. She nodded once, not clearly understanding Johnson’s question.

She stood shaking, “Dear God, please save me,” she prayed. Jessica felt the stool shift and tried to adjust her balance. She was tilted forward. “NO...Don’t,” she cried. The Biden’s pulled on the cords.

“Oh GOD, NO, please noooo,” she screamed. The stool shifted again, then she tipped to her left. "No, No…not yet!", she screamed. Her mind clear for an instant Jessica cried out as her feet slid from the step. She kicked out with her bound feet and connected with Johnson’s assistant’s arm. The time was 11:15 AM.

She heard a grunt as her foot seemed to contact with something and she kicked out again. Jessica tired to scream but all that came out was a strangled gurgle as the rope bit into her throat.

The noose gripped the right side of her neck with a crushing pressure. She felt a sharp tearing pain in her neck as the noose began its task.

She swung toward the watching crowd. The rope viciously jerked her to a halt, her toes no more than two feet above the ground as the noose yanked cruelly tight, the brutal knot throwing her head painfully to the side as it shifted to just behind her ear. The watching crowd heard a strangled gurgling sound coming from Jessica as the noose gripped her throat.

She began a violent thrashing as soon as the noose began to crush her throat. Jessica’s agonies were obvious to those watching her dance. Jason had to be restrained by the security guards as he watched his wife begin her death struggle.

She kicked out with her bound feet. Her body began to twist toward the crowd, which was now beginning to cheer. She kicked again and the noose shifted on her neck. Her kicks twisted her body to the left. Her pain was registered on her face.

Her hair was wildly tossed about her face and she tried in vane to reach the rope with bound hands. Her head twisted to the right. Her body followed as she twisted toward the toward the crowd.

Jessica was hanging by her neck and she tried to reach a place to stand with her pointed toes. Jason tried to rush to his tortured wife but the guards held him fast. But even as her body panicked, a sense of wonderment pervaded her consciousness. I'm hanging! I’m actually hanging as thousands watch! My execution has started!

Jessica twisted right then left as the crushing pressure on her neck continued to grow. She bounced and kicked on the rope. The crowd began to cheer and laugh as she pointed her toes trying to find a place to relieve the killing pressure on her neck.

Stunned, her eyelids fluttered and her feet quivered slightly, toes pointing at the ground as the onlookers held their breath, waiting to see if the short drop had granted her a quick death. Suddenly her eyes flew open and her mouth gaped wide as sensation returned, the incredible pain in her throat flooding her entire consciousness as she tried to wail in protest, the vice-like constriction allowing only a throttled gagging squawk to emerge. Her toes immediately began an urgent search for the step, groping blindly in all directions, her stocking feet inscribing agitated circles. These exertions caused her to gyrate and swing on the rope.

Jessica had been hanging for less than two minutes. Disorientated from the shock, she was certain that she had accidentally slipped and that the stool was still within easy reach, if only she could find it. She desperately fought for air, chest heaving as she barely managed to drag a small gasp past her damaged windpipe.