Chapter 6

Of the three others who escaped with Rico and Reeves, only Clark was selected as being worthy enough to have his life extended slightly by being sold at auction. Dorman and Gregson were strapped face down on benches with their faces elevated, so that they may view the nooses their necks had been decorated with, which were hung from a hook on the bars of their cells. As they squirmed in their bindings they were frequently visited by masked women in long black capes, who thrashed them as they viewed their nooses; not relenting until they spent their balls in submission as they writhed in pain, their cocks massaged beneath their bellies as they were chastised and made to know their departure was imminent. They had been held there less than twenty-four hours when a trio of matronly women in squeaky white latex tops and skirts, studied them with dismissive contempt and discussed them, one ticking a clipboard; the nooses were taken from the hooks; Gregson's was replaced with a square blade, with diagonal cutting edge, and Dorman's with a strange bolt-like object. Though Gregson quaked with fear on seeing the object; something that his female tormentors relished as they smiled on seeing his expression, he could at least surmise that his end would be swift, or so he assumed. Dorman however, gratified the smiling bitches no end, as his terrified mind wrestled with what the bolt symbolised; the women would gain much satisfaction at witnessing his realisation of the instrument of his demise.

The retribution of the women was swift indeed, though they had never been affected in any way by the crimes which the males had been sent to the colony as punishment for; Gregson awoke to find the black caped women binding his ankles, and his arms to the side of his body at shoulders and waist. He shuddered with fear as six women smiling from under their black masks, then unstrapped him from the bench and laid him on the floor. They all took special pleasure in stepping over his face with legs astride, revealing they wore nothing under their billowing black capes; the sight of their cunts and assholes, combined with the wafts of their feminine scents, ensured Gregson's cock erected in spite of his frightened state. One of the women left the cell and returned with a huge black silk bag; Gregson shrieked and wriggled in horror as the bag was slipped over his feet, up his naked body, and tied above his head. A rope was tied through a ring at the top of the bag, and the six caped women began to drag him to the place of his execution.

Gregson writhed in terror in the sack, as he was jerked, stop start when hauled outside onto the soft dirt of the compound; his heart jumped and then raced, as unseen to him, a seventh caped woman joined and headed the slow procession. She beat a drum to a slow tempo, its resonating sound making any woman keen to see his disposal aware of the event. Smiling eager women of all ages joined and followed behind; all except Gregson knew what his fate would be, the sinister drum cut through his petrified head with each beat as he was jerked along for what seemed to be an eternity. He shivered with fear as between the beats he could hear a growing cackle and laughter which seemed to follow him; it was not coming from the caped women who remained silent as they paced step by step to the drum beat.

Gregson dripped with sweat in the black silk sack, as the hot Pacific sun slowly baked him to add to his torture; to a degree, a similar effect was felt by the seven women in their black capes, perspiration dribbling down from between their breasts, teasing their already moist and aroused cunts, their assholes sticky as their soft cheeks rubbed together in stepping with deliberation toward their goal. Their enthusiasm blotted out the sun, as they anticipated what would follow after their toil. As the structure was approached by the slow beat announcing the death of the bagged male, Gregson cowered in the sack as the tumult of cackling, whispering and sneering laughter gave up the excitement of those following, almost distracting him from the solemn beat; in his bewildering blindness, he sensed his death was close. The beat and jerking steps continued as it went even darker in the sack; he was now in the shadow of one of the hideous instruments of death. The beat suddenly stopped with a drum roll which nearly stopped his heart; as he wriggled and quailed in the sack, his balls tingled and his cock stood erect as if to confound his fear of death; to his dismay, he found the fear of death had sexually aroused him. He felt another rope being tied about his ankles and he shrieked in fear as he felt himself hoisted high; his shriek was met with applause and derisory laughter from what sounded like a thousand females. He felt the hot sunlight on the sack again and felt himself being lowered; he settled on what felt like a body-width conveyer belt or track. As he wriggled, the noise from the tumultuous crowd died to a complete hush, he felt the ropes being untied and the sack was opened.

A smiling woman in a black cape and mask loomed over him as the sack was pulled out from under him; she was all he could see at first as he was blinded by the fierce sunlight, but as another of the caped women played with his erect cock, the first pulled his head down so that he could look up behind him, and then stepped aside with a wicked smile; she pointed up to the sky behind him and Gregson gasped in terror, wriggling in vain against the tight bonds. A slim but monstrous guillotine, the blade a good fifty feet from the platform loomed above him; he would lose his head.

The crowd of watching women now came into his view, as he turned his head to one side, hoping in desperation that this was some nightmare and that it would go away; hundreds of baying and jeering women made it quite plain this was no dream, and that they would delight in seeing his head severed. He jumped as the caped woman with the drum walked past him with a satisfied grin, beating the slow step once more. Gregson wriggled in terror, further delighting the crowd, as the six other caped and masked bitches; their nipples pointing excitedly through the shiny black silk, rolled him step by drum beat step, toward the delicious blade which glinted fifty feet above him. He froze with fear, his cock rigid, as his head was passed into the portal with the blade above. His tormentors stopped him short with his eyes looking up the finely polished chute at the blade which would part his head from his body; allowed a good look, the drum rolled, and the six pushed him onward to bring his shoulders hard against one side of the chute, his head the other. His legs were bound to the track to ensure no movement. As he twirled his head in terror, he noticed his head was on a seat-like platform, and there were steps either side of the platform below his arms, plus a handle on either side of the chute about three feet above his head. One of the excited caped ladies behind him held his head still, facing up, and another pulled down a padded 'U' shaped block which clamped his head still. She spoke the first words; her tone was sincere but exuded pleasure.

"We must have a nice clean cut; how else would we be able to display your head after you have received the pleasure of the blade?" Her breasts swelled as she stood up, and gently rubbed the edge of the chute down which the blade would deliver death, as Gregson squirmed in fear, and the huge crowd of women then started a slow hand-clap as she turned toward them and undid her cape. Though terrified, Gregson's cock stiffened as the black silk slid down over her soft white flesh and she stood naked but for her black mask; her beautiful round ass cheeks inches from her face, beads of sweat trickling down her supple back. She then turned back to Gregson.