Chapter 10

The women looked to each other across the cab, laughing softly and barely having the chance to regain their composure, before the cab jolted to a halt upon the cobblestones in the rear courtyard of Madam Agnes Fairchild’s grandiose and suitably macabre residence. Laura whisked back the curtain at the cab window, and hauled the squirming Wentworth up to his knees, intent on having her full enjoyment of him on his last day, and having him view two young maids close the ominous black gates behind them, their faces showing an air of contentment in doing so.

“See the gates closing on your life my husband ... you shan’t see the pleasures that lie beyond ever again...” She turned his head the other way and motioned to Charity, who gleefully whisked away the curtain at the other side, sneering as she enjoyed the startled look in his eyes as he quivered and murmured through the gag. Two more wistfully contented maids in black, eased open ornate oaken doors to reveal a dark corridor beyond.

“See the doors to my opportunities open my husband ... I enter them as a wife, and leave as a widow ... and you’re going to have the opportunity to please women as never before, an opportunity you’ll not be allowed to decline.” Even the photographer warmed to her level of sadism, laughing cruelly with Charlotte as he bucked in fear at what lay beyond, and the spite overcame the youthful Charity, already wanting to stroke her cunt again with the pleasure of the sadistic taunting. She couldn’t help herself in indulging her delight in making what he feared patently apparent.

“Yes! ... oh yes! ... you’re going to hang, and I’m going to whip you to the gallows!” Though fearful of the awaiting rope, Wentworth’s cock poked high and erect with the erotic pleasure of submission, at the prospect of being humiliated by her on the ultimate part of his path to know the noose. As the door of the cab was swung open by Madeline, he stiffened and faltered again, showing the reluctance which would make his display on the rope so thoroughly satisfying. Laura pursed her lips with the lush pleasure of the moment, and looked to the excited girl as she played with the whip.

“ ... and we can all see that your use of the whip is going to be more than symbolic, Charity my dear ... and I came prepared for that.” She pulled a second leash out from between the padded seat behind her, placed there in advance for such an eventuality at her instruction, and licked her lips contentedly as she fastened it about his neck.

“There my dear husband. Now every woman here today will see you’ve been reluctant to make me a widow ... that will add a special thrill to their enjoyment, and mine.” Charlotte sighed with pleasure as she watched him quiver in the shroud, the sight of the smiling Madeline in her tight leggings with whip, content in having confirmed her promise of delivering him to the gallows, adding to the rigidity of his erection. As the woman who’d made the mature woman’s delightful fulfillment possible by clinching that possibility, as surely as the noose would clinch his neck, Charlotte awarded herself the deeply sexual pleasure of a taunt which she’d more than earned.

“There’s no escaping what you so thoroughly deserve Wentworth, this is what your arrogance and chauvinism has earned you ... the pleasure I received in seeing you spend under my whip, after the disclosure which confirmed today’s appointment, will be as nothing compared with my pleasure today...” She grinned wickedly as his stark eyes stared past Madeline into the passage he’d soon take, his cock pulsing wildly as she caressed it’s rude stiffness with her gloved hand.

“ ... oh yes, no escape Wentworth ... you’ll spend for me, high on the gallows, and the pleasure of that will excite my cunt with the memory of it for years after you’ve been snuffed out ... executed by the power of my word.” A panting Charity pulled him toward the cab door in her impatience, while his mind dwelled on Charlotte’s pleasure, and his ears took in the sounds from above as the photographer, Lizzy, and two of the maid’s wrestled the heavy camera from the cab roof, and hurriedly set it up. The photographer’s erotic enthusiasm had not waned by any degree, despite the lush orgasm she’d enjoyed; in fact, it only fuelled her desire to capture every cruel step that Wentworth endured on his trip to the gallows, as equally as did his widow-to-be.

“That’s it ... just there ... everybody still now!” The cowering male had been presented on the two leashes, his eyes wide from his gagged face in fearful expectation of what was to come, his cock poking high from beneath the white shroud as he knelt with wrists tied and ankles shackled, erect with the inner weakness of being dominated in spite of his rational fear. Laura stood proud and haughty with one leash, glowing with the satisfaction of her coming widowhood, Charity with the other leash, her face showing the spiteful impatience to use the whip in seeing him to the noose. The photographer sighed with renewed sexual arousal as she carefully adjusted the mahogany box to ensure that Charlotte, Madeline, and Lizzy, who flanked the trio, were captured with their warm and satisfied smiles, and was particularly aroused by the sneering pleasure on the faces of the two maids by the passage entrance. Though they had seen the sinister eroticism of the entry of a male many times before, the look of sordid contentment at knowing he would soon be displayed high upon the gallows, was as sadistically ripe as though it would be the first they’d witnessed. Her sigh was audible as she exposed the plate and captured the exquisite moment.

Content with her capture, the photographer looked to the two maids who’d closed the gate, the excited look on her face telling them where she yearned to be for the final shots. As they eagerly and obligingly carried her equipment through the passage without the need to be told where it was to be set up, the photographer looked lustily at Laura and her leashed property, and simply gasped in the aura of her sexual excitement, her nipples expressed like bullets through the fabric of her dress as she followed the two maids. The two maids at the passage smiled warmly at her as she passed, reciprocating the intense pleasure she felt.

The two at the door were treated to thorough enjoyment of their duties, seeing a male cower in reluctance as his Mistress moved relentlessly toward the passage with a tug of her leash, their spiteful contempt for him taken to a lustrous high as he faltered in progressing, the two leashes and loosely shackled ankles confirming he was not a cur who had begged the appointment. His rudely displayed erection told them that he was a submissive cur just the same, and that illustration of his overpowering inner perversions, confirmed he both desired and warranted the grip of the noose put there by a woman.

They’d seen wriggling males trussed head to toe and wheeled down the passage to know the ultimate pleasure of feminine dominance, their reluctance to know deserved justice, resulting in complete humiliation in the eyes of the spectating women, freely voicing delight in their scorn. But all had shown their pleasure when committed to the rope, pleasing their audience with a show of their seed, either spontaneously or by command of a woman’s hand - this one would be no exception.

Laura nodded to Lizzy, and the mature Madeline, who’d thoroughly enjoyed her day of exhibitionism in airing her cunt atop the cab, and the raw sexual thrill of taunting Wentworth in her announcement that she would see him delivered to the gallows. Her day would now be made perfect, as she and Lizzy would enter next. The expectant crowd of dominant matriarchs, already buzzing with a fervour in their lust to see a male suffer the ultimate humiliation, on the appearance of the photographer, would be sent into a frenzy of cruel delight on seeing the cabbies enter in their black veiled riding costumes, so appropriate for the procurement of a funeral

Their entry heralded the arrival of the source of their sexual lust, the theme of both covert and open masturbation of many a mature cunt in the days leading up to the event, not least that by Madeline herself. Wentworth’s cock boned rigid as he watched the two disappear ahead, and heard the raw delirium of feminine euphoria from the crowd echoing down the passage, confirming his time left on this earth was short. Laura sneered with satisfaction as she felt him quake on the leash.

“Just listen to their pleasure husband ... it’s you they yearn to see. Once you let down your guard and surrendered your masculinity to the power of womanhood, you set yourself on the path to the gallows.” Her cunt bulged as she tugged the leash and enjoyed his resistance to its command.

“ ... this is the final part of that path to the ultimate humiliation husband, and you can hear that every woman there is anxious to see you follow to its end ... you’ll go the noose you’ve earned so deservedly, and it’s your own weakness that brought you here.”

Laura was to have no disobedience from her soon to be late husband, however; the wicked pleasure of her dominance over him, teased wonderfully by the tension on the leash, as her excitement at having him see the gaunt scaffold, moistened her cunt.

“Show him the whip Charity ... the time for your pleasure has come.” The thrilled girl tensioned her leash whilst alongside him, her mouth agape with a crazed excitement of her own, as she had him feel the urge of the second leash to kerb his reluctance, then let his flesh feel the spite of her whip. Wentworth squealed through the gag as the crack of the flexible horsewhip put a stripe across his buttocks, ending any hope of delaying his stay in this life beyond the allowance of the women who owned him. As he stumbled forward into the passage, he soon found that his compliance had no bearing on the aspiring young dominatrix’s sadism with the whip.

Now feeling the tension of the leash from his end, Charity continued to stripe his buttocks with the horsewhip, as he scuttled forward to his doom, whipped to the noose by a girl under half his age as he watched his wife strut elegantly before him, her eagerness to display her pride and pleasure in becoming a widow to an audience, so evident in her ardent stride.

In the hall beyond the doors, Madeline posed with Lizzy, enjoying the adoration of the multitude of massed feminine dominance, and especially those she recognised. They looked on with some jealousy at the plump figure, her broad thighs and breasts expressing her mature femininity to the full, in her tight jodhpurs and jacket, whip and veiled hat complementing her outfit exquisitely. Lizzy however, was as mesmerised by what she saw ahead as much as by the the adoring crowd at her side below the entrance. The ginger girl’s gasp was accompanied by a sexual surge which increased the wet patch at her crotch, her camel-toe in a perfect relief through the material in sadistic excitement.

There stood the gallows, in an alcove set at an angle to the door, some fifty feet way in the grand hall, allowing the condemned to thoroughly enjoy his kneeling progression en route to being received by it. It’s stark shape made all the more erotic by the walls of the alcove which enclosed three sides, being faced with mirrors; the angle from the entrance door giving the reflected appearance of a myriad of scaffolds, stretching away to infinity. On each side of the trap-door stood two maids, the smiles which betrayed the pleasure of their duty, radiating from below the black eye masks they wore. They were draped in full length black silk capes which shimmered in the limelight from the beacons set in the raised stage, casting an ominous shadow of the beam and noose across the hall ceiling. The white cords the maids held to their fronts, contrasting with the black as they awaited their duty in trussing the male in preparation for the drop that they and their audience lusted for so vocally.

There in the centre of the platform, with the vista of the noose hanging in wait for its deserving recipient behind her, stood the smiling and regally dominant figure of Madam Agnes Fairchild, as eager as any member of her audience to appease their raucous impatience, in exacting the punishment they craved. She posed with one leg on a single chair which graced the platform, the nakedness of her white flesh contrasting with her black cape and boots as she displayed her cunt unashamedly; as the woman who’d hang Wentworth, her air of nonchalance would trivialise the gravity of his predicament, and her open sex would emphasise just what had earned him her pleasure on the rope. Her eyes burned with lust through the black eye-mask as she applauded the plump figure of Madeline and the haughty elegance of the shapely ginger girl, whipping the feminine crowd up to a frenzy of anticipation.

On this occasion, there would be no curtain to hide the teasing prospect of her gallows from the eyes of a male who’d begged it’s blissful function, to be dropped, and its rude beauty displayed after the candidate had been teased sufficiently. No, Agnes knew that Wentworth was a likely reluctant, and he’d be treated to a view of its robust and purposeful promise from the moment he entered, giving him the chance to shame himself and thrill all who witnessed it, as he was led to the comfort of the noose he’d earned so deservedly. Having experienced the righteous finality that the sound of the trap crashing away inflicted on him, the mirrors would allow him the lush pleasure of a view of himself in his final moments, with every twirl on the unforgiving rope as he wriggled helplessly to the sound of rapturous feminine approval.

Creed knelt at Julia’s feet, already awed by the dark pleasure that the supreme woman beneath the gallows had allowed him, and noticed her eyes focus on their party as she surveyed the crowd in encouraging the vigour of Wentorth’s reception. Creed’s cock achieved a full erection as her dark smile met his eyes, and he watched her full breasts jostle and poke their rigid nipples, on her gently stroking her manicured fingers up and down the calf of a boot that he’d sent his seed to, her smile turning to a satisfied sneer as she did so. Constance cackled haughtily at the gesture, and increased the rigidity of his erection, as she sneered down at him.

“Oh see how she favours your pet Julia, and we’re all about to witness what pleases her most ... her lust for the rope is insatiable, and now she’s tasted his submission?...” Julia looked to her with a broad smile, then transferred it to her pet, but said nothing, the contentment in her eyes teasing the tingling in his balls, with the mystery of fickle womanhood in her silence. Was she truly considering seeing him spend at Agnes’s feet in earnest?. Their moment was brought to an interlude in her thoughts, as the door to the passage opened once more, and the two maids who’d admitted the photographer and Madeline and Lizzy, held them wide to allow the entrance of what the audience craved.

The contentment of the two maids radiated from their smug smiles, on seeing the open excitement shown by the mass of ladies, who were just that in the world beyond - staid and ladylike. Here they expressed their sexual liberty openly, and the sound of a whip and its impact against male flesh which emanated from the passage, indulged the passion of dominance which was the common factor amongst them. The hanging of pathetically submissive males whose total defeat at the hand of femininity had brought them to beg the pleasure of the noose, such as Lumsden, was pleasing enough; the arousal that was generated when a male had earned that pleasure through crimes involving the exploitation of women, was something else.

Many of the women there were attending for the first time, drawn to the erotic excitement of a covert but well publicised account of a once arrogant male, crushed by feminine dominance and brought to face the gallows through feminine guile and the full approval of a wife keen to become a widow. The blissfully extreme finality in the nature of the closing of that matrimony added a tart and spiteful spice to the event, especially as it was also publicised that he had avoided the gallows till brought down by another woman whom he’d used so chauvinistically. As Laura emerged into the light from the passage, her arousal matched theirs, as the lusty spite of the audience erupted into a heartfelt applause ... this was her moment.

The applause was punctuated with gasps and jeers, on Wentworth emerging under Charity’s whip, revealing the double leashing and loosely shackled ankles, necessary to ensure his reluctant final journey and prevent his absconding in fear. The short white shroud shimmered in the light as he shuffled along on his knees, his flanks and bare buttocks showing the striping of continual punishment which was added to with youthful vigour by Charity; the slender young girl’s enthusiastic use of the whip emphasising the absolute power of femininity, the erection which poked from below the shroud, illustrating the masochistic pleasure of defeat that the beaten male felt despite his destiny.

Those ecstatic gasps given out by the women in the audience, were as nothing when compared by those given through the tight gag by Wentworth as he entered to view the final room he’d see; there were the gaunt gallows which awaited him, the visual reality of the noose he’d not escape, shocking him into faltering at the ominous sight. His bowels churned close to shaming him further, he nearly defecating at the stark truth; yes, he really was to hang. The raucous feminine enthusiasm at what was to come, and the triumphant smile of Laura, kept his cock rigid in masochistic awe, defying the fear he felt. As the sneering Charity ensured his progression with a vigorous strike of her horsewhip to his striped buttocks, he was unable to escape the overpowering erotic aura of his own execution.

Creed’s submissive awe, and his worship of feminine dominance, reached a subliminally erotic high which was induced by the sheer pleasure in Laura’s eyes, as Wentworth shuffled forward to meet his feminine nemesis. His eyes scanned the array of heaving breasts beside him, as the ardent and unanimous approval of seeing a male served with justice on the rope was expressed with a spiteful euphoria. Needing two leashes and the encouragement of a whip, Wentworth’s boning cock confirmed his inner desire to spend in humiliation on the rope, and his status as a cur so deserving of it; his eyes now focusing on the magnificent figure of the woman who was to hang him.

Agnes cut the definitive image of absolute feminine supremacy in Wentworth’s eyes, and in every male pet fortunate to witness her imposing figure. With her mature figure displaying the abundance of naked flesh in an open statement of feminine dominance, her broad thighs and the wet cunt between them, seemed to draw him to his fate. The cruel contentment in her smile at having yet another male to grace her gallows, was sweetly evident to both victim and audience as the wretch was whipped to her feet. On his knees before her, Wentworth’s wide eyes looked up to her smile, as though to beg her mercy, which he knew she’d never show. The crowd of women hushed as he sniffed at the air, hoping to gain the scent of her arousal, only to be rewarded with the formidable woman’s contempt.

“Oh yes ... you’d like a final whiff of the opiate that’s brought you here, as with every male who’s earned my pleasure ... well you’ve earned more than that.” She turned and bent slightly, spreading the broad fleshy cheeks of her ample buttocks, exposing the pucker which had known the worship of so many defeated male’s, delighting her audience.

“Sniff! ... Sniff at the sweet scent of your utter defeat, in thanks for my noose which you’ve earned so deservedly.” The audience of women sounded their appreciation of his humiliation, as he pressed his nose to the brown ring, the gag slipping against the slick arousal of her labia below it, his standing cock pulsing and dribbling pre-cum as he sampled the essences of his executrix. Wentworth’s tongue pressed hard against the gag, longing to taste the wetness of her cunt as he inhaled the spicy and honeyed tangs of her pucker, his cock boning at the lush humiliation as the feminine crowd voiced their derision. Agnes allowed him a thorough sampling of her scent, before moving away and placing the chair directly under the noose, then clicking her fingers to summon the two caped maids, before smiling at Laura.

“Well Mrs Wentworth, are you ready to become a widow?” She tugged his leash with a sneer as Agnes sat her broad thighs on the chair, and motioned Wentworth’s presence across her lap.

“Ohhhhh yes, Miss Fairchild ... I’ve longed for this day, I’m more than ready.” Wentworth cowered in the shadow of the noose as he was pulled across Agnes’s fleshy thighs by Laura and Charity, the girl offering his cheeks a final flick of her whip to urge him there. Her pert breasts heaved with excitement as she watched him squirm over the thighs of Agnes, like a schoolboy about to receive a thorough spanking, though the wriggling Wentworth knew he was to receive a more exacting punishment than that. As the two smiling maids wafted their black silk against his bare flesh while exchanging his cuffs and shackles for the tight bondage of the white cord, his eyes met with Charlotte’s, and he saw the supreme satisfaction in her eyes; the conceited delight of her achievement as she goaded him silently, bringing him close to spending across Agnes’s thighs as he was bound ready for the noose she’d earned him.

Agnes grinned as one of the maid’s passed her something, and Wentworth’s near expulsion of his seed was distracted by her lifting his head to show him what had been handed to her. She felt his cock pulse against her thigh, as she showed him and her delighted audience, a large anal plug, its broad and conical body, glinting in the light. Wentworth grunted through the gag in despair at its bold girth, bringing spiteful amusement from the women. She smiled with pompous satisfaction on twirling it before his startled eyes, as she related its history with feminine pride.

“This plug is crafted from solid silver. I had it made as a parting gift for my first husband, in thanks for the portable gallows he constructed for me ... and constructed for his own execution, after begging that pleasure of me...” She felt his cock bone rigid as she slipped its cold metallic smoothness through the cleft of his cheeks.

“ ... it brought tears of anguish and submissive joy from him, when it was pressed home to confirm my assent of a mutual pleasure, a token of my progression to widowhood which he wore with pride as he obliged that favour on the rope ... it’s known the tight anal grip of many a deserving male since, and brought them that final pleasure of absolute submission to femininity, as well as serving its purpose in preventing their defecation.” She teased the conical end against his pucker, then looked to Laura.

“Would you like to oblige him Mrs Wentworth? ... it’s only fitting, and I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Laura’s sneer, and gasp of delight, confirmed her eagerness to oblige him, and Agnes held his head back high to allow her audience a good view of his grimace, while one of the maid’s held his legs down while the other parted his striped cheeks wide, with equally satisfied smiles. Creed bucked on his knees, wanting to masturbate, on seeing the spiteful pleasure in Laura’s eyes, as her magnificent feminine profile displayed the nipples hard with arousal through her black costume, Wentworth grunting through the gag on her consummating her assent to widowhood.