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Okay, as I said, this takes place in the Old West. Instead of hanging, the obscure New England techniqe of "pressing" is the execution of choice. As you will find out, it has been modified somewhat from it's original form. Enjoy:
I was lying in my cell, miserable...hopeless, waiting for the sun to sink below the horizon and plunge my cell into gradual darkness. This was to be the last light of day I would see before the day of my death. OUR death, actually. Emmie and I were both sentenced to die on the gruesome scaffold that we could just see out of our cell window, down the long cruel street of torment.
I had drifted into this town from the larger cities on the East Coast, and was charmed by the frontier atmosphere. Emily, the young girl just entering womanhood, was fascinated with me, probably because I was exotic compared to the local people she had known all her life. Neither of us had intended to fall for each other...hers was more the admiring crush of a teenager, and mine was a kind of fatherly affection. But something went wrong with that picture, and on a fateful day two weeks ago, we were picnicking outside of town and ended up sneaking inside the haymow of a barn nearby, and when we were caught by the farmer, we were both naked, sinners and fornicators in the eyes of this typical western town.
The courtroom trial was a sham, but the worst part of it was that BOTH of us went on trial. And they convicted both of us. I can still remember the judge reading the verdict, and the sentence, how it raised goosebumps on both of us. "For the evil and satanic nature or your crimes, you must both be sentenced to the severest of penalties: to be pressed by your bodies until they are destroyed, and made incapable of inflicting further harm upon our good townspeople. May God have mercy upon your souls."
They stripped us both then....taking my pants, my socks and boots, and her dress, leaving only a blouse on her and a shirt on me...taking us out of the courtroom in chains...shamed in front of the townspeople.
Now, here we were....staring at the ceiling of our respective cells....waiting for the horror that would come.
The next morning started before dawn, with the Sherrif clanging a metal bar against the cells to wake us. He grinned cruelly as we blinked at him in sick realization of what was to come. "C'mon, GIT up you two lil froggies, we can't have ya bein' late fer yer own mashin's. The whole town and countryside's gonna be there to see you two get popped."
The next thing, we were both shackled in a cage on wheels, bars all around and no privacy. Both of us were forced to our knees, and chains were put on our wrists and necks to bolts in the floor so we couldn't stand all the way up. The trouble was, there was another chain up to the ceiling so we couldn't lie down either. If we were shamed that day of our conviction in court, it was nothing at all compared with this last, terrifying ride. Neither of us had any way of covering ourselves with our hands cuffed behind our backs, and all either of us wore on our lower halves were skimpy underwear and bare legs. It was so humiliating, but it hurt me even more to think of Emily being mistreated in this way. And the numbing terror that overwhelmed both of us concerning our impending fate made me feel sick.
I met eyes with her several times during that slow, bumpy trip down to the end of the street. Her face was sad, eyes downcast, and I could tell she was saturated with the same sick terror and shame as I was. I had to look away to end the feeling of misery that I was the cause of her terror and shame. That I would be the reason her bright young promise would soon be destroyed in such a horrible manner. Although I had never seen one, all I had ever heard of pressing was that it was slow, cruel and hideously ugly to watch.
After the initial crowd of people gathered around the jail, leering cruelly in at us as we embarked on our last ride, the bystanders thinned out a bit. As we reached the halfway mark down the street, they started to build up again, until the last part where the square opened up around the execution machine. Here, the crowds became so thick that our wagon slowed to a mere crawl. It became terrifying, the simple act of them crowding around us, pressing their faces to the bars....some of them reaching in and trying to touch us. Thankfully the cage was large enough that they couldn't do much of THAT, but they WERE able to throw things...small stones and sticks. And rotten food and vegetables, that was the worst. By the time we reached the point where the square opened out, we were both coated with a slime of malodorous reek consisting of rotten tomatoes, potatoes and other garden vegetables, as well as the occasional painful little welt or bruise from a well-aimed stone. Most of it was from children supervised by their parents, who were more than happy to point out to them what the wages of sin were. One child though, looked to be unacompanied by any adult, and his behavior was the worst. He was the one who was throwing small, stinging stones when eveyone else threw soft, rotten vegetables. He was barefoot, about 10 years old, with an evil leering grin on his face that betrayed him as a bully. He wore only a pair of tattered shorts, which he took off after throwing his last stones. Climbing naked up the sides of the cage, he grinned in at us savagely and cruelly jibed at us how he would laugh when our guts popped out of us. How funny our faces would look as that happened. Then he took his small penis in one hand, and proceeded to urinate all over us....directing the spray so it covered both of us, including our shocked faces. Both of us were now thoroughly humiliated and broken in spirit. In the square, we begin to notice some of the booths and "party favors" that are being sold for the festivities. "Squishpuffs", or pastries with a pink cream filling that squirted out when bitten, were the most popular. There were several other similar snacks, all with the theme of a grotesque colored filling. The most macabre, however, involved a live animal. It was a small wooden frame, with two flat pieces, and a hinged pair of handles to bring the pieces into close proximity, with a live frog attached to one frame so that it's abdomen was stretched over one of the flat pieces. The other piece would squeeze the other side so that the poor thing would be caught in between at the mercy of it's cruel purchaser. They were expensive, but not so expensive that some of the more indulgent parents weren't able to purchase one for a particularly excited child. As it turned out, there were more than a few of these. One of the naked little savages chums had one, which he gave to his friend. As our cage ground slowly to it's final stop, delivering us to our grisly fate, he made his appearance with the gruesome talisman, and again climbing the bars of our wagon, brandished it cruelly. "Wanna see what it's gonna be like, Emmie-Pie?", he said, and proceeded to bring the handles quickly together, swinging the extended legs of the hapless creature in our direction, holding it inside the bars and inches from our faces. The frog kicked it's legs frantically, there was a series of rapid croaks, and a sickening popping noise as it expired. A jet of blood and intestines squeezed from between the two flats, some of it spraying out onto our faces and in our hair. Emily was horrified, her eyes welling with tears, and I was able only to gape for several seconds before bellowing in rage at the monstrous urchin.
After that gory experience, we were both brought back from a dreamlike state we had been in. The immediacy and terror of our death had driven our minds out of our bodies, and the stopping of the wagon and the horror of that unfortunate little animal's death so close to us served to bring us both back to our senses, back to the stomach-clenching reality of our situation. I noticed that the cage had stopped just next to a rough stairway that climbed to the dreadful scaffold upon which the press was situated. Now, two deputies had dismounted from the front of the wagon, and the Sherriff himself came to the door to unlock it (he also had the key to the locks on our arm and leg chains.
After the tedious ritual of being unchained, we were hauled roughly to our feet. The high temperature of the rough stairs in the hot western sunlight was painful to our bare feet. Our legs were also somewhat cramped from being forced into that awkward bent position for the bumpy wagon ride from the jail. So there was some degree of stumbling and staggering on our part, complicated by the fact that we still had a short ankle chain hobbling us, making normal footsteps difficult. The two deputies and the Sherriff all had guns drawn, and were escorting us up the stairs, along with the Executioner, who was leading. Each time we tripped or hesitated, one of them would thrust the barrel of his pistol into the small of our back or just below a buttock, jabbing us without regard to our pain or dignity. It was so humiliating, to be wearing nothing but skimpy underwear, bare-legged and barefoot in front of all those jeering people.
At the top of the stairs, our long walk ended, and we stood facing the huge audience which flooded the town square. I exchanged a quick look with Emily, who was wide eyed with terror, her brown eyes looking like a deer in the headlights as she faced the end of her short life. My embarassment was extreme, compounded by the fact that for some strange reason, my penis was fully and achingly erect inside my underwear, which I thought must be obvious to the thousands watching. Whether it was the extreme fear, the immediacy of my agonizing death or the public humiliation which caused the unusual arousal, I was not sure. Perhaps it was a combination of all three, but nothing I could do or think about would stop it.
Now, the Executioner chained our leg and wrist shackles to frames on the platform so that we both had to stand with our arms above our heads, legs apart, unable to relax or move: on display. As the crowd-animal cheered and hooted at us, the Executioner pulled out a curved blade shaped like a hook, and proceeded to cut off our clothing, my shirt, Em's blouse, her brassiere, and last, my undies and her panties. Naked, shivering, crying in shame, we stood for all to see, like hunting trophies on display at a lodge. I wished fervently that there was some way I could cover my rigid cock standing at attention for all to see, but a glance at Emily revealed that her body was also betraying her. Her nipples were erect and full, and a blood-red swelling of her lips and mound was also evident through her sparse teenaged pubic fur. Now the Judge mounted the steps, and faced us, asking us if we would take this last chance for forgiveness. We both nodded enthusiastically, pleading with our eyes for another chance.
Now, the Judge asked us both by name if we would confess to our crimes and throw our lives onto the mercy of the People. Of course we did, easily allowing ourselves to be manipulated by his cruel play. Each of us, in turn, confessed, naked and stammering with fright, to being a sinner and a fornicator and to having unlawful carnal knowledge before the age of consent. In addition, I made a small speech, imploring them for decency's sake to forgive Emily, to pardon her, offering my own life in exchange for hers. At this, the Judge raised his hand, the crowd quieted, and all eyes turned to me. A spark of hope showed in Emily's eyes and my heart rose. "The situation has changed now, oh people of this town and county: shall we now offer this young lady a chance at a life, at freedom and pardon for her heinous sins? Or shall she be subject to the judgement of my court, the law of your land for many safe years now?"
Our hopes were dashed at the same time as the crowd jeered "NO" in one huge and simultaneous voice.
"AND NOW", thundered the Judge, "WHAT SAY YE TO THE FATE OF THESE YOUNG UNREPENTANT SINNERS? Do you think they have paid for their crimes against us, or do you believe, AS IS EVIDENCED BY THE OBVIOUS STATE OF LUST THEY ARE IN, that they are WICKED AND EVIL TO THE CORE, NEVER TO BE REHABILITATED?!? SO WHAT SAY YE? GUILTY OR INNOCENT?"
"GUILTY!!!", roared the crowd-animal, as one.
"And WHAT, say ye, WHAT shall be the punishment for these young SINNERS?", yelled the Judge.
The crowd roared in response, like a hungry animal denied it's supper for too long: "THE PRESS.....PRESS 'EM.....CRUSH 'EM....squish 'em....MAAAAASSSSHHHHHH EMMM"
"Pop thesh cherriesh while they're RIPE" yelled a drunk in the front, staggering from foot to foot. Everyone laughed at that, even the sober Judge.
Our fate was now sealed. One of the deputies brought up a bucket, and water was thrown over our bodies as another wielded a scrub brush on a long handle....cleaning our bodies of the mess and dirt from our ride across town. "So they will be clean, and blood will be easier seen against their scrubbed pink skin!", said the Executioner. Now the he unchained us as the Judge stepped down from the scaffold. He led us over to the business end of this monstrous device, and forced us face down onto a pair of thick, heavy wood blocks, like butcher blocks. The other deputy took a smaller bucket filled with warm tallow, and dumped it over our bare asses as we squirmed on the smooth wood surfaces. Then, our calves and forearms were shackled into wooden stocks tightly, allowing us to squirm, but not to escape or move off of the blocks.
Below the platform, draft horses are being led around a large vertical capstan shaft with four bars. The horses are harnessed to the end of the bars and whipped into a medium walk, causing the huge shaft to turn.
The mass of shafts and gears coming from below the platform start to turn...each gear a reduction of the one before, multiplying the torque, and ultimately, the crushing force of the four huge beasts below us. As Emily and I glance nervously over our shoulders, we see the huge blocks of wood moving slowly down over our bare butts....approaching us deliberately....creeping....creeping.
Time passed endlessly as we lay there, the sun beating down on our nude pelts, the heavy wood presses getting closer to our soft flesh. We eventually started to doze, both of us, as the crowd quieted, knowing how long the entire thing would take. But finally, the wood touched our bare rumps, almost at the same time, and we both jerked awake, whimpering.
Now, time passed faster, as we both felt the squeeze of the press....first on our bare rumps, then on our backs, up as far as the middle of our chests, squeezing, squeezing. We were both screaming hysterically now, aware of the futility of our situation....the hard stocks mercilessly gripping our arms and legs, allowing no escape.
It was becoming hard to breathe as our bodies were squeezed tighter. We gasped for breath, looking over frequently into each other eyes....telling each other how much we loved the other. The crowd was jeering at this, calling us SINNERS and FORNICATORS. Many of them were deliberately biting into their squishpuffs, taking great delight in the way we would close our eyes and look away from the all-too-grim reminder of the pink creme filling squishing out of the pastries. Emily had become completely frantic, violently spasming her body in her desperate attempts to get free of the huge horrible destroying machine. I was kicking my legs in a swimming motion, my thighs and knees spreading and coming together. I realized, belatedly, that my motions looked a good deal like that of a frog kicking it's legs. In fact, with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, this was undoubtedly the reason for the cruel miniature facsimiles of this form of execution. When the crowd on the other side of the scaffold, those who could view between my legs from behind me, began chanting "FROGGY FROGGY FROGGY..." , I knew it was true. But I was also unable to stop my body from betraying me to these cruel onlookers. I was out of my mind with desperation, with the need to escape. And Emily, poor sweet child, was in the same state. She soon began scissoring her shapely young legs in vain attempts to escape, prompting more jeering from the watchers from behind us. "OOOOOOOH, LOOKIE.....ANOTHER LIL FROGGIE....SQUIRM FROGGIE....SQUIRM THOSE CUTE LIL FROGGIE LEGS", they said. Em was whimpering with the terror and embarassment of hearing those cruel and malicious taunts.
We were both gasping for breath, barely able to draw in life-sustaining air. The crowd was on their feet, loving every minutes of our torment and misery. Every once in a while, I would roll one way or the other, and my hard cock could be seen peeking from under my body, squeezed in place under the tremendous pressure. The "ladies" of the town would cheer whenever catching such a glimpse. The "gentlemen", too, were enjoying immensely the view of Emily from behind and between her legs, from their comments, she was apparently quite open to view, and looking on the red and engorged side, probably for similar reasons to my own arousal. It was the arousal of death, the fear and desperation, the bodies last impulse of fight or flight: to mate before dying in an attempt to prolong one's bloodlines.
Now, I was realizing something else--something that overwhelmed me with dread. Not only was the press squeezing our bodies from the lower half only. The upper platen was tilting gradually, through some gruesome mechanism that was strictly by cruel design. The way it was tilting served to squeeze me the most in the middle of my back to the small of my back....tapering off so my rump was not so tightly squished. In effect, it was causing the horrid machine to force my entrails downward, downward in the direction of my crotch. Emily was being squeezed in the same manner, from the glimpses I was able to get of her body. What would happen to both of us, eventually, is that our entrails would be forced out of the lower end of our bodies. I was horrified, and kept this to myself, the poor girl was already out of her mind with pain and fear as it was. And, to add further to her misery, she had been compressed so tightly that she was unable to hold her water, which was squeezed from her in a very noticeable flow, dripping to the sand underneath the machine. Much to the amusement of the crowd. "Mashed the pee out of 'er", yelled the Executioner, causing much hooting and laughter from the audience. It was only a few minutes before my penis began spraying from where it was compressed beneath my body, apparently the shortness of the female urethra being the cause of the difference in time. Now the all were on their feet. "JUST A FEW MINUTES NOW, LITTLE FROGGIES". As if they knew. And I supposed they would....from experience. I shuddered at the thought. Now Emily, who had been saving her breath, making mere gasping sounds, began to shriek hoarsely, making animal squalling noises as the final destruction of her body commenced. Those behind her could see a bulge between her legs, and soon her uterus popped out of her vagina in an obscene parody of birth. Her legs were drumming frantically as splintering noises came from her body, her pelvis was beginning to crack. The same was happening to me, I felt a warm/cold numbness from down there, and soon there was a very sick feeling in the bottom of my guts. Something popped between my legs. The people watching could see a hernia as my intestines squished into my scrotum, distorting it to the size of a melon. There was a horrible, sickeningly gruesome SPLAT, as first Emily, and then I, lost most of our insides between our legs. I could feel intestines between my thighs, warm and slippery. Blood and fat and other indescribeable gore was between both of our legs, and soon the machine had completely ruined us....breaking our lower ribs, flattening our abdomens, and crushing the meat of our rumps into hamburger about two inches thick. Then the Executioner pulled a lever. The horses stopped, and a counterweight slowly withdrew the upper platen from our ruined bodies.
From the small of our backs down, we were nothing but a ruined mass of meat and broken bone and blood, entrails and fat. Even our upper legs were flattened, down to about the mid thigh. The lower platform tilted downward, and a mechanism released the stocks so that we both slid free of the crushing platens onto an angled trough. We slid head downwards the length of the troughs, ending up on a kind of tray near the ground level. Then they allowed the crowd to file past us--to "pay their respects".
None had any respect for us, just morbid, often cruel curiosity. Some poked us with sticks. We were still alive, dying slowly, because our lungs and hearts were intact, the damage being done to our abdomens only. Our deaths would come eventually from bleeding out, but it felt like we would have to endure more torment before any such mercy delivered us. Some of the men got together and rolled Emily face up, strictly so they could see her "boobies". They were disappointed there wasn't much of her pussy left to see, but all delighted in poking her with sticks in that general area. Soon, the same was done to me. A flattened ruin of my cock could be seen, and some of the young children and the whores were delighted at that sight. Many of the passers-by pulled loose small bits of gore to take as souvenirs presumably. After we had endured almost an hour of this horror, staring into the burning sun, we were dumped unceremoniously to the hot dust of the street. Most of the people were gone, but the Sherriff released his dogs, and many of the other townspeople's dogs were allowed into the square at this time. The began tugging and worrying at the pieces of gut and mangled meat, pulling us to shreds as we pleaded in gasping whispers for merciful death. It was not long in coming. Soon, the dog pack had destroyed the crushed parts of our bodies, devouring us ravenously, and began pulling at the rest of us until our lungs and hearts were pulled out. We sank into merciful blackness, our eyes meeting one last time as we succumbed to our cruel fate.
The justice of the Old West had triumphed yet again.
END
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