Keep it in the Family

The headsman bowed as the two prisoners ascended the stairs and paused in front of him. "Good morning to you both", he rumbled in a deep baritone, before extending his arm and pointing it at the guillotine set up on the platform. "Now, if your highness can place yourself and your son onto the bascule and place your necks on the lunette, I'll be able to secure you comfortably", he continued.

Her royal highness, the former Queen of the Kingdom of Selarnia, Astrid Wolfgang Von Eisernborn nodded gracefully, her silky blonde hair (cut short to enable a clean slice) gleaming under the mid day sun. She was, despite her 40 years of age, a stunning beauty. Shapely, a large bust that strained underneath her simple gown, with a bit of fat filling out her form, just how the headsman liked his women. He strategically placed his gloved hands above his crotch to hide his erection and furtively looked away. Motion caught his eye, and he turned his head back to observe the second prisoner.

A young teen boy followed behind Astrid, his soft round face set in a grim expression. The crown prince, Astrid's only son, Peter Wolfgang Von Eisernborn had celebrated his 14th year just a month ago. He shared her mother's graceful looks and golden blonde hair, although not her calm temperament. His body was slim and pale, from a life of studious academics and limited physical training. The boy was dressed only in a pair of purple briefs, his upper torso and limbs exposed to the sweltering summer heat.

Astrid sat down on the bascule of the guillotine, swung her long, shapely legs over on top, and laid her head back until the nape of her neck touched the worn edge of the lunette. "Peter, come here", she spoke softly. Peter hurried over and laid himself chest down over his mother. The boy laid his head on Astrid's soft, sagging breasts and breathed in her musk. His pounding heart calmed down as Astrid raised her hands and rubbed her son's cheeks. "Steel yourself, Peter. A Von Eisernborn does not let imminent death make a coward of themselves", she whispered in his ear.

The headsman walked over to the guillotine and strapped the two prisoners together, his hands slipping and pulling leather straps tight across the mother-son pair. He locked the top half of the lunette over their necks and stepped back to admire his handiwork. Leaning over, he placed a hand on the lever that would drop the 15lb blade.

Astrid felt something poke her pelvis. Peter looked away, a furious blush reddening his cheeks. "My, my", she chuckled, despite the situation. "I forgot, my little Peter is a young man now". "Mother, please", the boy pleaded, a whine of embarrassment slipping into his voice. Astrid smiled and closed her eyes. "It is a mother's duty to relieve their son of anxiety", Astrid murmured as she began to shift herself back and forth, rubbing her son's boner against her soft tummy folds through his briefs. Peter began to softly pant as he felt his erection stiffen and twitch. The boy held his breath and started to shift his own body up and down. He was so close, just a little more…

The headsman pulled the lever, releasing the heavy blade of the guillotine to the forces of gravity. It slid down within a half second of activation, sliding through both royal necks with as much ease as a hot knife pulling through a pat of butter. Peter came just as the blade sliced through his spinal cord, cutting off his orgasm mid-groan. Astrid felt her son jerk, something hot and wet covered her face, before the blade also separated her head from her shoulders. The two heads tumbled into the basket placed in front of the guillotine while the two headless torsos shuddered, their limbs rigid. Blood pulsed in jets from the neck stumps and coated the decapitated heads of the former royal family, their faces slack and eyes half lidded. The crowd of peasants cheered as the headsman grabbed both heads by the hair and raised them out of the baskets and facing towards the crowd. He placed both on spears, to be displayed outside the city.


An hour after the execution, after the crowds had dispersed back home, the headsman dragged Peter's corpse off of the queen. Dumping it unceremoniously into a plain pine coffin, he surreptitiously looked around before reaching down and pulling the boys briefs off. Selling the clothes was a decent sidegig, depending on how well off the prisoner was. Peter's underwear was high quality indeed, with fine embroidery and patterns. The man sniffed the sticky stain on the crotch and made a face. That would require some washing. He placed the briefs into a bag and closed the lid on the coffin. Astrid was quite a bit heavier than her son, and the headsman grunted and struggled as he carelessly dragged her into her coffin. The gown was silk and also quite finely embroidered and dyed. The stains (of blood and other bodily excretions) were always a pain in the ass to clean, he thought as he closed her coffin lid and sat down on the bloodstained bascule. Already, he had bought up the idea of switching to the gallows, but the city council were opposed on the basis of financial matters.