[B][/B]The Reluctant Executioner

[Ikely]

The Reluctant Executioner

Jeffery Marshall was feeling bad again.
He was stuck in a bureaucratic, go nowhere, job. He worked for the consulate on an island nation in the Persian Gulf. “How did I get stuck in this 3rd world shithole?” He thought as he contemplated the stack of files on his government issued desk.

The place was just oppressively hot. The local food absolutely sucked. The people were mind numbed followers of a religion that radicals had perverted into some totalitarian dictatorship.

It was not right. Jeff had 2 master’s degrees, one in political science and another in foreign relations. He should be working in some think tank in Georgetown making a high 6 figure income. He should not be in this Department of State nightmare.

He made up his mind….again. After this rotation he was really going to leave the Department of State and get a job at the university teaching.

At least at Harvard he would not have to worry about grown men dropping their pants and taking a dump on the sidewalk or having to yield right of way to some goat herder and his flock.

His phone buzzed. It had to be his supervisor. He was probably going to give Jeff some stupid detail. He might have to go to the Ministry of the Interior to meet some general who had a bitch about the amount of American aid he received.

“Yeah.” Jeff said flatly

“Jeff, where are we on that criminal case? The one where that young girl got busted for stealing?”

Jeff thought a moment, and then started digging through his files trying to find the one about the American girl in custody.

“Uhh…yeah, I’m on it. I was going to make contact with the judge and try to figure out a way to resolve that issue.”

“Marshall…damn it! The girl was tried yesterday! Get your ass down to the court and track the proceedings. She should be getting sentenced today.”

Jeff swore under his breath as he hung up. In front of the mirror, he straightened his tie and put his suit coat on.

He drew a car from the motor pool and proceeded through the insanity that was driving in 3rd world countries.

He found the judicial center, which was right next to the dirty, grey stone walls of the prison.

As he walked up the steps he was met by a local man in a suit.
“Hello, are you from the American consulate?”
“Yes, Jeff Marshall…”
“Hello, I am Nasim, I am the defense attorney for the American girl.”

Nasim continued talking as they made their way into the court room.

“She was found guilty of stealing. The judge will pass sentence shortly. I have tried to argue for leniency but the judge is….very harsh.”

They entered the chamber and took seats behind a bench that Nasim said was where the convicted would be seated.

A military officer came and barked some words that Jeff did not understand. Everyone rose, and the judge came in.

He wore a black robe and a white ghutra on his head. His beard was white which contrasted with the brown of his skin.

A door opened on the side and a man surrounded by officers was led in. He was positioned in front of the judge, where he stood, head down.

The judge started to speak, and Nasim started to whisper the translation so Jeff could follow along.

“…ok….Abdull-fatah…you have been found guilty of having sexual intercourse to a woman that you are not married to. You are found guilty of having sexual intercourse without the consent of religious leaders….for these crimes against purity I sentence you to be beheaded…tomorrow.”

Jeff swallowed, “damn”, he thought. The man began to weep as they led him away.

Jeff became concerned for the American girl now.

These religious zealots were capable of doing anything and justifying it with their perverted version of their religion.

Another door came open. The female convicts were led in, and it was obvious which one was the American girl. She stood out from the other 5 females.

They were seated on the bench in front of Jeff.

Nasim pointed out the obvious, “That’s the American girl, right there.”
======================================================


OCC
Looking for a female writer to play the role of the American.
PM interest, and I will give the details.

 

[lovelyluckygirl]

Laila Stevensson shook her head over and over again, mostly to herself, but also to all of the foreign military and judicial employees that surrounding her, speaking some indistinct, foreign language with Persian roots. She herself had Persian roots. Her beautiful, Arabian mother had fallen in love with her Swedish father and had produced a striking daughter. She had the fair skin and hair of a Swede, and the deep brown, slanted eyes of her mother. Of medium height and petite build, Laila was stunning. Unfortunately, it was always her looks that managed to get her in trouble.

Her parents had convinced her to get in touch with her roots and visit their birth places this summer. So, with some friends, she had left the Upper East Side and trekked to her mother's birthplace: an exquisite island nation that left her in awe.

Unfortunately, she hadn't been as in touch with the culture - or language - as she had hoped. To make a long story short, she had gotten swept away in the excitement of her friends urging her to steal a tiny dragon fruit from a street stall. The owner of the produce stall had screamed "thief!" and before she even could comprehend what was happening, the cuffs were clicking around her wrists and she was being led to jail.

Her parents were outraged, but had just left for an annual finance conference in Geneva, so they were of no help to her. Her mom had tried to pull some weight, but of course, as a women, she had little to no jurisdiction. Laila had spend three miserable weeks in a slovenly jail, barely able to stand the treatment from her supervisors and jail mates. She was intimidated and beginning to understand why women from this country were so submissive. The treatment of women was un-called for! Of course, as a prisoner in a foreign country, it wasn't like she could talk back. She scarcely said a word without the presence of her court-appointed attorney, Nasim, counseling her. She was not just afraid of being practically held hostage in a foreign country anymore - she was afraid for her life.

It was the morning of the court hearing and she was rudely awakened by a guard. Barely allowed to clean herself, she was dressed in the traditional clothes of the country, almost her whole body covered. As she entered the court room and was forced to sit with five other females, it was obvious she stood out. The paleness of her skin - and splash of silken, naturally blonde hair was enough to identify her as an American.

The serious - and scary - looking judge began to speak, gesturing angrily to the group of girls. She felt numerous eyes on her and realized he must have been talking about her, and her alone. Shrinking in her seat a little, her eyes wide with fear, she looked pointedly at her attorney and the American man he was with, trying to beg for answers - and some mercy - with her eyes.

 

[Ikely]

Jeff Marshall looked at the American girl. What he saw of her face showed she was exquisitely beautiful. He noted that she had blond hair and fair skin and she definitely stood out among the other females.

The judge then barked out some words. One of the females stood. Nasim translated, "Umm...ok....Banan, you have been convicted of impure thoughts and masturbation....you are sentenced to 100 lashes with a whip."

The woman let out a wail and crumpled to the floor weeping. Some of the matrons picked her up and escorted her out towards the cell.

The American girl turned and looked at Jeff and Nasim. The look was one of complete horror.

The judge worked his way down the list. He called their names and issued a sentence. The name of the last native woman was called. She either refused to stand or could not stand out of fear. A pair of female matrons helped her stand. She was visibly shaking. Nasim translated. It was the woman the man from earlier had had sexual intercourse with. "Fellah, you have been found guilty of sexual intercourse with out consent. You are sentenced to death by hanging." The woman shrieked and fainted. The matrons helped her up and dragged her away.

The American girl was the last prisoner.

The judge barked out her name, "Laila Stevensson"
The girl looked back at Nasim and Jeff, then slowly stood. Nasim step forward and in the native language stated a few things. He then stood next to Laila.

The judge made a statement and Nasim replied and the 2 men talked back and forth for a bit. Then Nasim signaled Jeff to step forward.

Jeff stood next to the Nasim who told him to give his name and title for the court.

"If it please your honor, I am Jeff Marshall, deputy attache for American affairs at the embassy." Jeff said

The judge made another statement. Then Nasim replied. Next Nasim huddled with Laila and Jeff.

"The judge said you were found guilty of theft and he sentenced you to 100 lashes, and the whipping will be...ahhh...various. You will be subjected to different whips and canes and lashes."

Laila gave a sharp intake of breath. She sagged and leaned on Jeff. Then Nasim said, "But there is a way to reduce the number of lashes. Our law provides that a foreigner can select their own executioner to adminster the whipping. The prisoner selects that person and the number is reduced by half. If you want to do this, I need to let the judge know right now."

Laila only nodded her head up and down. Nasim then spoke to the judge and a discussion started. They went back and forth. Then the judge stood and walked out of the courtroom.

"What just happened?" Jeff asked
"I notified the judge that she has selected her own executioner. He reduced the lashes to only 50, that is 10 with each whip or cane. It is the best that I could do." Nasim seemed dejected.

Jeff stood and stared at Nasim for a while. Then in a loud voice asked, "Nasim, who the fuck is going to do it?"

Nasim looked up and said, "Well, you were the only other American in the room so I told him that she had selected you to carry out the whipping."

Jeff almost fainted like the woman.

 

[lovelyluckygirl]

Laila grew more and more anxious as the women were held accountable for their crimes. Although the language was all a blur to her, it was obvious enough from the courtroom's body language what was going on. The judge was strict to begin with, but his harshness grew exponentially for the women. The women before her all fainted or began to sob, their eyes round with dread and hopelessness. She felt herself shrinking in her chair, mentally chastising herself over and over again for being so stupid. She was beginning to think that she would never make it out of here, before she had even heard her verdict. And it's not like being American would've helped - if the judge hated women, there was no doubt he hated an American women more.

He called her name and she stood, shakily, her eyes cast downward as a sign of respect and submission. She felt Nasim's presence next to her but didn't dare look up, afraid of what she would witness. She felt the other, new American man stand next to her, and felt a small sliver of hope as he stated his name and position. Perhaps he could pull a few strings for her.

However, her hope was crushed as soon as it had been reborn. Nasim told her the verdict and she physically paled, feeling incredibly weak and unstable. She was unable to help leaning on Jeff for support, and attempted to straighten up and stand on her own two shaky feet. "Sorry," she murmured, audible only to him.

The option the judge had presented her with was almost a gift in comparison to the other punishments the women had been given. All she could do was nod her head up and down, still in shock over the idea of receiving 50 lashes of various kinds. There was no specification as to where, when, or how they would be administered. She inwardly winced, subconsciously unaware that she had yet to pick an executioner, but she felt less vulnerable in Nasim's hands as he negotiated her less severe verdict with the judge.

Laila looked up only as the judge walked out of the courtroom. She walked over to Nasim and Jeff unsteadily, and looked at them with trepidation in her eyes. "What now?" she asked calmly, her voice steely and reserved. She had no idea of the conversation that had just taken place between them.

"Who is to administer this....punishment?" she asked, her a detectable flicker of worry fleetingly flashing through her eyes.

 

[Ikely]

"Ms Stevensson, the only thing I could do was name Mr. Marshall as the person to administer the punishment." Nasim said quietly.

"If this is unacceptable for you the court will conduct the punishment in the standard way using a male guard, and it will be 100 lashes. " Nasim continued, "Punishment will begin at exactly 12 PM tomorrow. Mr. Marshall, as the one administering the punishment, you will have to be present when the matrons come to dress her out and prepare her body. They apply special ointments to the buttocks to help prevent infection. She will be given a simple dress. Then you will escort her outside to the punishment yard. The only males present will be myself Mr. Marshall, the judge, and 2 male guards" Nasim looked at Laila, "You will be last in the order. Once the punishment is complete, the judge will speak to both of you. Then you will be taken back to your cell and the executions will then take place."

Marshall looked at the young woman. He could see fear in her eyes.

Marshall looked at Nasim and said, "Alright.."

The matrons came to take Laila away.

"Miss Stevensson, try to get some rest." It was the only thing that Marshall could think of to say.

She was lead away.

Marshall drove back to the embassy and reported the sentence. He left out the part about him being asked to administer the whipping.

Back at his residence, he ate and then tried to watch a movie on dvd. He tried to focus on anything except the impending sight of the beautiful young woman, naked and a leather strap landing on her young, tender ass.

The movie didn't work....

 

[lovelyluckygirl]

Even though Laila was completely surprised by the swift decision Nasim made, she didn't convey it. She simply nodded coolly. Her eyebrows raised only slightly at the mention of her "buttocks". So that's where I will be whipped....lovely, she thought, her feelings switching from dread to anger yet again. She was outraged at the customs of this country, and the right they felt they had to degrade and humiliate her, while punishing her. How unfair was that? She looked directly at Nasim as he went through the task of explaining the proper protocol for tomorrow. She was hesitant to look at Marshall, unaware of his feelings on the situation.

All Laila felt was a mix of apprehension, fury, and fear. She snuck a quick look at Marshall, who seemed to be feeling a small sense of sympathy for her situation. 'At least someone else sees the injustice that's going on here,' she thought grumpily, her mood souring by the second.

"I understand, Nasim. Thank you for all of your word and negotiations. You will be richly compensated once I'm done with this....ordeal," she spoke, quietly but smoothly, her voice not revealing her true feelings.

With a small nod at Marshall, she followed the matrons, leaving her completely normal life behind for good. Laila endured a restless sleep, rudely awakened to be cleaned and dressed by the matrons. She was led in a single file line out to the punishment yard, her eyes growing more fearful with each step. All she could do was anxiously wait for what was to come.

 

[Ikely]

Jeff Marshall woke and showered. It wasn't to bath. It was too hot in this hole to even attempt something like that. No, the cold shower was to make the his arousal go away. All night long he had the thoughts and images of the lovely young woman's naked body and what he was required to do.

He managed to get to the prison and he met Nasim. They were escorted up to the cell where Laila Stevensson was laying on a cot. A female prison patron, wearing white cotton gloves was applying a cloth to the well toned, firm and naked ass of Laila.

For some modicum of decency he and Nasim turned while the simple dress was placed over her.

The single file line then walked.

They approached a large metal door that was opened.

The sun was brilliant. The heat of the day was oppressive. The female patron led the group to a section away from the other female prisoners who had been sentenced to a whipping.

Marshall noted that there was a triangle shaped frame with restraints each of the 3 points of the triangle, a waist level padded stool with restraints on the legs, and then there was a long bench with a padded raised section in the middle of the bench.

Marshall also noticed a large piece of red velvet spread over a section of the yard opposite from them. There was a single large sword, shining in the sun. There also was a wicker basket on 1 corner of the velvet. Marshall also saw a crane had positioned its arm over the wall near that corner. A noose dangled from the arm. Nasim caught him looking.

"That is where the exections take place. We will be done and gone before they do that." Nasim reassured him.

Marshall looked over at Laila. She had a sense of anger around her. Or maybe it was rebellion?

The first convict was called forward. She was stripped of her dress, then bent over the padded stool. Her wrists and ankles were restrained. The woman was reciting or chanting.

A male guard came forward and he held what looked like a cat of nine tails.

The judge nodded and the whip came forward with blinding speed. The leather straps struck home and the woman screamed...

 

[lovelyluckygirl]

If Laila had felt uncomfortable earlier, with the presence of Nasim and Marshall earlier while she was being prepared, she didn't show it. All she could feel was an impending sense of doom. While the heavy metal doors opened and sun streamed all about them, she was grateful for the intense rays - they had given her a reason to close her eyes and blink back the threat of tears. Although her head was positioned downward, she could not help but glance about her. The other women sentenced to whipping seemed just as, if not more, fearful - which honestly worried Laila, since these women were from this country and knew what to expect if they broke any laws. She then spied the whipping bench and restraints, loud and oppressive in the center of the courtyard. She was unable to look too noticeably to her left, but her bionic hearing allowed her to hear Nasim trying to reassure Marshall about the executions being done after they had gone. Hah! If anyone needed reassuring, it was HER. She could understand if Marshall was uncomfortable with what was about to proceed, but whatever. Cutting the sentence in half ensured less pain, less humilation, less chance of infection. She truly hadn't cared who was to administer it yesterday - due to a sense of numbness, really - but was almost relieved to here it was Marshall. He was beginning to feel like her American ally. Her only ally.

She watched in awe as the first woman was prepared and restrained, her eyes growing as she saw the cat of nine tails. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch as the guard hit his mark. The bloodcurdling screams from the woman, however, were enough to let Laila know that she was about to be taught the lesson on her life.

Soon, the screaming died down as the woman grew horse, and her weakened body was taken off of the whipping bench. She was called forward and stood very silent, trying to convey zero to no emotions as her dress was taken off. 'Perverts...they could just pull the dresses up but no, they have to make this as degrading as possible,' she thought disgustedly. Laila was maneuvered and restrained in the same position as the first woman. She swallowed back the continual combination of anger and fear as the restraints on her wrists and ankles were securely fastened. All Laila could do was wait, as Marshall selected the first whip to use on her poor ass.

 

[Ikely]

Marshall was sweating more profusely now.

Each of the women was brought forward and the punishment was administered. When the last of the local women had been whipped, the judged called forward Laila. Marshall watched as the simple dress was removed.

Her fair skin was bright in the brilliant sun.

The judge barked out some more words. Nasim stood beside Marshall and translated.

"He says, to bring the foreign woman forward..."

Laila walked forward, completely naked except for some cheap flip flops.

"You have chosen your own countryman to administer your punishment. He will deliver the lashes effectively, or I will have him lashed instead. Does he understand?" Nasim asked Marshall, who stated that he understood what was required.

"Upon completion of the whipping, I hereby order the prisoner turned over to the custody of the executioner. She will remain in his custody for a period of 6 months. He is directed to care and provide discipline of the woman for that time. She will be his servent to provide compensation for his work today. At the end of the 6 months, her sentence will be complete. Does he understand?"

Marshall was in shock. She was ordered to be his slave as payment for his whipping her today.

"Uhh...yes, judge..I understand" Marshall said.

"Very well, bring the prisoner forward and begin the punishment. The executioner will use the leather strap for the first whipping."

Laila was brought to the stool. She kicked off her flip flops and stooped down. The female matrons grabbed her quickly and put her on the padded stool and restrained her wrists to the front legs. Laila's legs were then restrained. The position of the of the leg restraints caused Laila's legs to bend at the knee, causing a 45 degree angle between the calves and the thighs.

The sun beat down on Marshall.

As he removed his suit coat and tie, Nasim came forward and said softly, "Mr. Marshall, you must give her a full whipping. If the judge thinks you are...uh...not giving full effort, you will be lashed in her place."

Marshall nodded. Nasim stepped back to the witness area.

Marshall then was approached by a large male guard. The guard gave Marshall the leather strap. It was 2 feet long and about 3 inches wide.

The guard stepped away.

Marshall stepped up towards Laila's head. Her head was turned to the right. Marshall leaned down and said softly, "I am sorry Laila. I will try to make this a quick as possible..."

Marshall stepped back towards her ass. The position of her body caused her ass cheeks spread open. Marshall saw clearly her yawning cleft, blond pubic hair was visible, and her asshole. She was flexing her asshole in preparation of the whipping.

Marshall stepped to the left of his target. He stepped around until he had the range.

The judge barked out some words.

Marshall tried to blank out his mind, then wound up, and sent the leather strap toward her ass with force...

 

[lovelyluckygirl]

The injustices just kept coming, didn't they? Because Marshall was doing her a "favor" by getting to whip her, she had to be his servant for six whole months. Six months? Her mind was racing in her restrained position. 'Forget Sweden, forget finishing college, forget having a life...' she thought grumpily. However, Marshall seemed like a typical attractive American government worker. Maybe being his "servant" would include babysitting for him once a week - assuming he had children - or walking his dog, cleaning the house. That wouldn't be so bad. She could still have a life. She would just have to come and sleep at his house at the end of the day. And hey, if he had a nice house, it'd be like a hotel. It might not be too terrible.

Laila then almost scoffed in disgust, but held quiet in fear of further punishment. Who was she kidding? Men were all the same. Driven by their pride, their egos, and their penises. Who knew what being under his "discipline" would mean. The use of the word was so broad he could do practically anything with it. Laila was suddenly filled with a deep hate for the country she was currently in. Their rules, their way of life, their treatment of women....everything was taken in such broad context their rules were basically nonexistent. Men could do whatever they wanted to women, it seemed. Now Laila understood why her Mom left as soon as she could.

Laila wanted to scream, to struggle, to yell obscenities at the judge and everyone around her. Yet she kept quiet. She bit her tongue, but her physical yearning of being free was so strong her calf muscles were unable to keep from flexing, and her foot was nervously twitching. She was completely unaware of everyone around her as the panic and realization of what was to come fully took over. She snapped out of her hazy numbness when she felt Marshall's breath hot on her ear. Laila barely nodded in response, not doubting the sincerity in his words.

She felt him take a few steps behind her and froze, squeezing the muscles in her ass to try and soften the blow. Like that would help. The air was dead, so dead that she heard him draw the lash backwards. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, clamping her mouth shut. She refused to scream.

And then she felt it. A mind-blowing burst of pain that had her speechless. All of the muscles in her body tensed and she was unable to make a sound, even though she was screaming on the inside. Then pain reverberated off of her ass cheeks and travelled down and up her body. She heard him draw the lash back once more and gasped, realizing that this was only one out of 50.

The second blow was worst that time first. This time, she found the ability to scream, a piercing cry that echoed in the wind. Her hands were clenched into fist, and she was doing so so tightly that her fingernails began to cut into her palms.

The third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth.....they all began to become a blur for Laila. All she felt was pain - the only difference was the varying degrees. She could feel her ass burning as tears leaked out of her eyes, pouring silently on the ground. They were almost to the tenth blow, in which a more horrendous whip would be used to possibly kill her. How was she supposed to last until fifty?

 

[Ikely]

Marshall delivered the 10th stroke with the leather strap, and Laila was dancing in her restraints.

Jeff Marshall was sweating heavily from the work...but he also had another problem. His cock was quickly growing fully erect.

As he wiped his brow and drank some bottled water, the matrons released Laila from the stool and assisted her walking to the triangle. They took her wrists and clamped them together at the top of the triangle. Her ankles were then moved to the bottom 2 points of the triangle. This caused her legs to be spread far apart. The matrons then connected black, leather padded straps around the thighs just below the curve of her taut ass cheeks, causing them to be projected out. Another black, leather padded strap secured around the small of her back isolated the the target.

The judge barked out something, and a male guard came forward with a rattan cane, about 4 feet in length.

Marshall walked up to Laila. The matrons were wiping sweat from her face and giving her sips of water.

"Laila, you are doing great...hang in there." Marshall said.

One of the matrons, still wearing the white cotton gloves was stroking Lailas hair and the side of her face. Marshall thought she was whispering something to Laila...

Marshall found the distance, then brought the rattan cane back, and held for a heartbeat, then brought down with force the first of 10 strokes.

Marshall watched the flesh of the ass cheeks absorb the blow...

 

[lovelyluckygirl]

Laila jumped in her restraints as the tenth blow was delivered. Was she just imagining it, or did it seem a little extra forceful than the last nine? She was delirious with pain, of course she was imagining it. There's no way Marshall was actually enjoying this...

She felt herself being lifted by the female matrons and slumped in their hold, letting her feet drag on the ground as she was led over to the triangle. She allowed the matrons to position her in the triangle, barely able to hold her head upright. She forced herself to focus on what was happening to her and felt her wrists being locked tightly together, her legs spread far apart, and a cold, almost soothing strap was applied to her thighs, lifting her bright red ass.

Laila looked up briefly to see a guard pick up a 4 foot long rattan cane and bring it to Marshall, who was positioned behind her. She gulped and looked down, shaking within her bonds. How was she going to be able to do this? Laila was almost praying she would pass out from the pain, so she wouldn't be awake for the remainder of the punishment.

The surprisingly gentle touch of the women around her was so comforting, and gave Laila a renewed sense of strength. They were wiping her face, giving her water, applying cold compresses to her face. The cold was so comforting, especially in the blazing desert heat. She locked eyes with one woman, who smiled and whispered encouraging words in her ear while stroking her hair. Laila managed a ghost of a smile, and then the women instantly disappeared, due to the judge's barking words. She stiffened up and closed her eyes, clenching her jaw once more.

Slap!

Laila's body reacted even worse to the sharp, continual sting of the rattan cane. It felt like a thousand wasps stinging her at once. She whimpered, slumping in her bonds at she felt the next several slaps.

Two.....Three....Four....Five....Six....Seven....

By the time Laila got to the seventh she couldn't keep quiet. She shrieked, writhing in her bonds, praying for sweet relief. "Please stop, please...." she murmured over and over again. Rather than just her ass - which she wouldn't be able to sit on for, oh, like a year - her whole body felt like it was on fire. Her face was burning, her feet - and everything in between. Laila thought she felt the tenth blow to her ass and sighed in relief, but wasn't sure. The pain was so immense that it was so easy for her to lose count.

 

[Ikely]

Marshall delivered the 10th blow with the rattan cane.

He saw the muscles in her ass were quivering involuntarily.

The image was…was…arousing. Marshall could not help his own body’s responses. His cock was swollen and hard. The view of this young ass, and the meat in between would have been a delicious sight in any setting. But seeing her body restrained, and then having to issue stinging blows with the various devices was so arousing to Marshall.

Following his last blow the matrons rushed in and began attending Laila’s body.

Marshall was actually impressed by the young woman. She was tough. She was not crying. She had not yelled out. She was taking her punishment.

Just as Marshall was thinking that, the judge began barking out. Nasim hustled over to the awning that covered the judge.

Marshall stood in the blazing sun watching the conversation and the judge appeared angry.

Nasim went to the triangle where Laila was still restrained and he motioned for Marshall to join him.
Nasim stood to her right, Marshall to her left. The matrons retreated a distance away.

“Marshall, the judge is angry. The condemned is not crying or yelling. He feels like you are not being as…uh…as firm as you should. He says if you do not make her cry or yell out with these blows, then he will get his executioner to deliver all the remaining blows.”

Marshall did not know how to feel about that statement.

“Alright.” Was all Marshall said. He looked into Laila’s eyes. He could see she was spent.

“Laila, I am very sorry.”

As he stepped away a male brought a broad, flat paddle for the next 10 blows.

The matrons resumed tending to Laila. They dabbed a soft cotton cloth in a dish with some sort of ointment, then applied the cloth to the streaks on her ass cheeks. The matron with the cloth then scooted close to Laila’s ass and began to delicately dab the cloth to Laila’s pussy, while the other female patted the back of her head and whispered soft words to her.

They stepped away from Laila.

Marshall stood a distance away.

He thought, for her own good he was going to have to deliver the remaining blows with force.

Marshall cranked back and sent the paddle forward to the target, her now rosy red ass cheeks.

A very distinct popping sound came from the impact, that’s 21, Marshall thought.