At first, Candace felt nothing.

Then she felt mild warmth, as she moved her free hands and legs, bending and stretching experimentally, trying to find a way to squeeze herself off the pole.

Unsurprisingly, she was quite stuck. This was a Federal execution. The people that build the stake knew their business.

Soon, the metal filling her wasn't merely warm. It was hot. She gasped at the fiery sensation. She bucked her hips, kicked her legs up as hard as she could to get away from the rapidly intensifying heat, to find any possible way to squeeze herself off the dildo.

Candace tried grabbing the pole with her hands, but not only did she have trouble finding a grip on the smooth surface of the metal, it had became hot enough that it hurt to hold on for any length of time.

And then the heat between her legs began to move beyond the realm of anything tolerable. It hurt. It burned.

She screamed.

All of her feminine parts were burning. Would she ever be able to have a baby after this?

Of course not, there was nothing after this. She would never be a mother. They were killing her. Burning her. Hurting her. It hurt so bad.

The red numbers on the clock read 00:05:38:44, the last two digits a blur as they flicked by so fast she couldn't follow them. She tried to focus on the numbers as an anchor for her sanity as the fiery pain threatened to overwhelm her sanity.

Make it stop, get away, oh my god, make it stop, get away, make it stop, get away, make it stop, it hurt and it burned and hurt and it BURNED.

It was a losing battle.

There was only the pain and the heat and the burning and the screaming.

She was screaming? She was screaming. That was her.

Was she dying yet? It must have been half an hour, at least. She was dying, she must be dying, she was dying and it burned and she was dying and she needed to die already and it BURNED.

BURNED.

BURNED.

BURNED.

She couldn't focus on the clock. There was only pain, and it only intensified.

00:09:36:12

* * *

"Bear WITNESS to the JUSTICE of your LORD my friends! For the RIGHTEOUS will be SPARED and the SINNERS will KNOW the FIRE of RETRIBUTION!"

* * *

"At this point you can see some redness around her pelvic region, which is expected. But, look at those good, strong kicks. I'd say her heart is in fine shape, and I'd put it at better than even odds she makes it to the one-hour mark, though the market still thinks it's closer to a forty-five percent... oh wait, there we go, forty-nine now..."

* * *

Brandi called her boyfriend, Rob, in the middle of her show and put him on speaker. "You hear that baby? You think you can make me scream like that for a full fifteen minutes later tonight? Just so you know, I'm recording this, everyone's listening and I'm holding you to any promises you make here!"

* * *

"So we're clear, you can tell she's dying up there," Letitia told her viewers. "You hear your sub scream like that, you check on 'em real quick. This is why you use a safe-word system that has a word for keep going, like 'green' in the traffic-light system. You check and your sub says 'green' or uses the keep-going word, you keep going but you gotta be able to check. Some subs are vocal, but sometimes there's something wrong."

"But, feel free to enjoy watching Candace getting her cunt cooked, she has it coming. She killed her husband," Carl reminded his audience.

"Oh, yeah, definitely" Letitia agreed. "Shame she has such small tits though. They're bouncing a bit, but she's a firm one too. I love to see the big ones really bounce around, and I know I'm not alone."

"We know, we know, you're such a size queen!" Carl grinned.

"'Course! Everyone knows it, they've all seen that python you've got trapped down your pants!"

* * *

The cartoon doe was making panicked bleating noises.

"Maybe she's learned her lesson, maybe we could let her down," a raccoon said to a rabbit. "We'll just plant new marigolds."

"Those marigolds looked delicious, and I didn't eat them," the rabbit replied self-righteously. "And besides, who's to say she wouldn't eat them again if we let her stay?"

"I suppose you're right," the raccoon agreed reluctantly, as the wide-eye doe, and the human displayed opposite her were slowly burned to death.

* * *

Alex watched, riveted, as Candace suffered as no one should ever have to suffer. It went on, and on, and on. Her beautiful, toned, naked body jerked and spasmed and struggled as she screamed. She was dying, and yet she remained alive to experience this ultimate form of torture.

Alex watched the agony in her friend's eyes. In her would-be lovers eyes.

Seeing them do this to Candace was a form of torture in and of itself, but she couldn't look away.

* * *

The electromagnetic locks on Sam's self-bondage rig were quite secure. The vibrator was quite powerful and it was quite firmly anchored against her crotch. After three powerful orgasms, it was no longer quite so arousing.

In fact, it was quite painful.

This wasn't really fun anymore. This was what she wanted, but now, maybe it wasn’t. This was probably why her boyfriend insisted on safe-words, wasn't it?

Her carefully programmed equipment did not care about her pain. That's how Sam had deliberately designed it.

On the broadcast, Candace Linneman shrieked like a dying animal. In a technical sense she was a dying animal. Humans were a type of animal.

Odds and Ends was saying Candace would probably last over an hour, and it had been barely over twenty five minutes so far.

Sam wasn't dying but it was starting to feel as if she were. That infernal vibrator kept right on buzzing against her hypersensitive clit. She cursed herself for doing this to herself, for going so far as to gag herself so the neighbors wouldn't hear if she cried out in either pain or pleasure.

The experience had definitely progressed beyond the realm of pleasure. Sam started to scream into her gag, hard. It hurt. Oh how it hurt!

She climaxed again, but sexual bliss had turned to sexual torture. She screamed through her gag again, and kept on screaming, right along with Candace.

Sam would survive, but her pussy was being tortured too.

* * *

Her entire awareness was that of pain.

There was no before. There was no after. There was only the now and the pain and the burning and the make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, oh god it hurt, make it stop, this couldn't be happening, she had to get it out but she couldn't get it out and it was getting worse and it hurt and it burned and it had to stop but it wouldn't stop, and it burned...

It kept burning hotter, hurting more, burning more, hurting worse. That was her world.

The world was white with red numbers and pain and kicking and thrashing and pain and screaming and burning and it hurt so bad, make it stop.

It was her world, it was all she could remember and imagine and at some point it would end.

It should end. She should end. But it burned and she screamed and it burned and it hurt.

This was her world, and it would never end. Would she ever die? Please? Now?

It hurt so bad.

*Make it stop, make it stop, make it end, make it stop, make it stop make it stop...*

It didn't stop.

* * *

"And it looks like it's over for Deerie Doe on the Roasted Kitten Show," Kenneth announced to the viewership of Odds and Ends. "After being burned for thirty seven minutes, her heart failed at exactly thirty-seven minutes and twenty-three-point-nine-four seconds after the fire was lit. Looks like those of you who bet low on the deer, can collect your winnings. Looks like Candace is still going strong, though."

"Absolutely," Dr. Blumenthal confirmed. "The way she's still moving and kicking, I'm pretty sure at this point her heart is going to keep on ticking like a champ until the heat stroke gets her. That said, I see her really sweating, breathing harder. Her core temp is going up fast so I'd say her time of death by heat stroke is going to be just over an hour, maybe an hour and five minutes."

"Well, that's longer than, what, eighty, eighty-five percent of the burnings last, isn't it?"

"Not quite eighty-five, Ken" Katrina confirmed. "I have to say, this one is really suffering, but then it's hard to feel sympathy for a real murderer like her. It's criminals like Candace Linneman who these burnings were meant to punish, and it's fitting it looks like she's not going to bow out early with a bad heart."

"Well, anything could happen but she’s definitely not done yet, is she? Definitely still kicking."

"Indeed she is, Ken. Let's watch."

* * *

"She's certainly taking a while to finish," giggled Candi. "I wish my boy-toys lasted this long."

"I know, right?" Brandi agreed. "But she's a girl, and girls can keep going longer, you know? It’s down to biology. Biology was always my best subject, I even got a B once!"

* * *

Those of you out there, remember to ease up on the nipple clamps and tight restraints every fifteen minutes," Carl said. "We don't want any trips to the hospital."

"Tell me Carl," Letitia asked, "Did we ever do a video where my eyes bugged out like that? I mean, damn."

"Hmm. Oh, remember the time we tried playing with the ghost-pepper sauce? Different sort of burn, but--"

"Oh, fuck you," Letitia cut him off. "I worked hard to forget about that, you son of a bitch!"

Carl shrugged. "You asked."

* * *

They said you couldn't die from too many orgasms, but Sam wasn't so sure any more. It felt like she was dying.

She'd become a dripping, suffering, sloppy, over-sensitive mess of a woman.

That insidious vibrating magic wand buzzed on, firmly lodged against her pussy as her nerves slowly numbed to the over-stimulation.

Candace continued to scream vigorously.

Sam continued to scream into her gag.

Would this never end?

How long could this bitch hold on?

* * *

"For the SINNER shall always and FOREVERMORE know the LORD is ETERNAL in his JUDGMENT, and that the FIERY PIT that AWAITS is likewise ETERNAL. We all CHOOSE our FATE and BEAR WITNESS to the RIGHTEOUS FURY that our LORD BESTOWS upon the UNWORTHY..."

* * *

Alex could tell the fight was going out of Candace. Her screams were diminished. Her kicks and arm movement seemed to lack the speed and vigorous force of her previous struggles. Her eyes though, remained wide and filled to bursting with agony.

Death would obviously be a mercy at this point. It would have been a mercy forty five minutes ago. Over fifty minutes had passed. Wasn't this reaching the limit of how long these executions were supposed to take?

The cruelty was unbelievable. How could anyone who witnessed this ever conclude that this was justice?

People were sick. The whole country was sick. The whole world was sick.

Alex continued to watch, hoping, praying that her friend's ordeal would end soon.

* * *

Phillip noted the official time of death by heat stroke and stopped the clock at one hour, twelve minutes and three-point-zero-four seconds since the start of the execution.

"That just squeaks into the top ten longest executions we've broadcast," He announced with his trademark smile. "Candace Linneman now clocks in at number nine between Gina Ramstein at one hour, ten minutes and fifty-two seconds, and Isla Whitmore at one hour, twelve minutes and twenty-four seconds.

"I'd like to remind our audience that the auction for the one-of-a-kind size nine Theodore Ebon original Moonlit Elegance Stilettos worn by Candace Linneman tonight will begin in one hour. Our partners at the Heritage auction house will oversee the event here, though pre-qualified bidders from all over the world are welcome and encouraged to login remotely and participate in this event."

Thank you for being with us this evening, to see justice served. We'll be back in three weeks time, when Alexis Hearn, a co-conspirator of Candace Linneman, will meet her fate as well. Good night!"

The broadcast feeds shut off.

The naked remains of Candace Linneman leaned forward on Big Eddie, impaled and immobilized by her vagina just as she had been as she died. Except for the sheen of sweat and the redness around her abdomen, there were no obvious external disfigurement, or clear signs of how she was put to death.

The two assistants moved to take away the body.

Phillip envied those women a bit. They were hard as nails, ex military, and besides they never had to push the button. He was the one who had to work the remote, every damn time.

He'd pressed that button one hundred and thirty nine times. He'd told all one hundred and thirty nine of them that he wouldn't inflict any more pain than he had to, and he'd been true to his word every time. Nevertheless, he'd watched every single one of them scream like animals as they were slowly tortured to death by the procedures he was required to follow. One hundred and thirty nine dead bodies had to be carried away, just like they were hauling off what was left of Candace right now.

In three weeks, it would be One forty, when Alexis Hearn died. And only one week after that, in four weeks, there was another one scheduled, Dena Lawrence. Then someone named Tamara Delaney. It never ended.

There was always one more corpse to create.

His boss kept heaping praise on him, and telling him how he nailed every "performance." He'd been given a raise twice in the last year.

Sometimes people recognized him on the street, only it was never, "that murdering pervert," which he expected, and suspected he deserved. It was always "that one guy from the death streams, can I get your autograph?" He was a minor celebrity.

Even so, he really, really hated his job.

* * *

Candace died. Instantly, the clamps unlocked, and the vibrator shut off. Sam had somehow survived her ordeal.

For a few minutes, she didn't move, didn't want to move. It took her a few minutes to come back to herself.

She was soaked with sweat and other more pungent fluids. She desperately needed a shower.

Well, that happened.

Holy shit!

She was never, under any circumstances going to do that, ever going to even contemplate doing that to herself again. Ever. For any reason. And that was final.

Sam struggled to stand up, on shaking legs, then staggered to the bathroom of her small apartment.

First she used the toilet. Then, since she was already naked she stepped straight into the shower and let the hot, cleansing water flow over her. It felt amazing.

It was over now, Candace was finally dead, and she was fine. She was fine, right?

She was fine. And, the rig had worked. It had worked flawlessly, actually.

Her panicked, overwhelmed mental state slowly ebbed, and her normal, enthusiastic, analytical mind reasserted itself.

She did her best thinking in the shower.

The locks were secure. The cuffs effectively held in place without cutting off circulation, and she definitely couldn't squirm away from the vibrator. Most importantly, the small micro-controller she'd assembled and programmed did it's job, connecting to the feeds, registering the end of the execution and unlocking everything as soon as time-of-death was announced.

She'd built and run a full test suite multiple times, of course. That's how you built software. But still.. no bugs when it counted. Perfect performance. Damn, that was something to be proud of.

Her pussy ached. Well, there were obviously consequences. But they were intended consequences. That had been the point, right?

She'd had an experience.

That was kind of hot, right?

Her pussy still ached, and it was getting worse as the numbness wore off a bit. It would definitely be sore in the morning too. But hey, tomorrow was Saturday, so no big deal.

Now that she knew her rig worked, maybe she could work on building another couple of them, so she could sell them online. That was the plan, right?

But, would anyone actually want to go through... that? Like, really?

Also, while the controller and electromagnets were standardized, a lot of the parts she'd used were one-offs, to save money on construction costs. She'd found the sturdy wooden chair itself at a garage sale. She'd also measured and 3D-printed parts of the restraints specifically to be her size, and she was tiny. Most women weren't four-foot-even, stick-skinny Chinese twig girls with no boobs.

How was she supposed to figure out the right sized restraints for an average woman? "Excuse me ma'am, what's the diameter of your wrists and thighs and ankles?"

But, Sam knew it worked on herself. Could she use that? What if she did a broadcast of her own, of... herself.

Sam wasn't the least bit shy about her body, had very few qualms at the idea of exposing herself on camera. She and her boyfriend had been to plenty of BDSM play-parties, after-all. It was just that her, by herself... she wasn't very attractive. She wasn't fat, quite the exact opposite, but her chest was flat as a board, way more so than the girl that died tonight. And her face, was no better than average, if that. She always hated her face, and her limp black hair.

There was already so much porn out there, would anyone actually want to see a skinny, titless bitch orgasm herself silly? Would anyone care? Then again, how much porn was there of anyone going for a full hour? She'd done her research when building her rig, and there was surprisingly little that actually went that long other than some of Triple-D's classics.
But she’d actually done it! She’d just done it.

Of course this, that meant going through it all again. Just half an hour ago, she swore she would never do that. This was a bad idea wasn't it?

Well, what was she going to do for the next burning, then? Hang out with her boyfriend who always seemed so uncomfortable? Just watch, without getting herself off? What fun was that? Oh, and next time it was going to be that hot, freckled redhead with the massive breasts. It was going to be epic. She couldn't miss that!

Besides, it was a fluke this one lasted over an hour. Next one would be shorter. Probably. It would be way easier next time.

Oh, and! And! If people were paying attention to whatsername's giant knockers, maybe they wouldn't care so much about her flat chest. Yeah, this could work. Yes, this could work quite well.

This would be perfect for showing off her invention, her rig, and getting some interest. She’d go over the details and features before she strapped herself in. Then, afterwords she would build more to sell, once she drummed up a market with her own broadcast.

Sam would only have to use the rig herself once or twice more. Probably. Unless she wanted to do more.

She'd figure it out. She always did.

* * *

"Hearn gonna burn! Hearn gonna Burn! Ha ha ha ha!" The guard's laughter echoed in Alex's ears as the bitch walked away after resetting the screen in her cell.

Candace was gone. Her friend, her crush was gone, killed, murdered in the most gruesome way imaginable.

She was alone now, and she was going to die, just like Candace, just as horribly. The last hours of her own life were slipping away.

It was going to happen to her. She was going to be a corpse soon, burned to death as the world watched. As the world cheered. Exactly like they cheered when they killed her friend.

Except maybe louder, because she had bigger boobs.

Fuck them all.

Alex lay down on her meager cot and sobbed as her own inevitable, gruesome end drew near.

* * *


"I know that look," Phillip's wife, Marian told him, when he arrived home.

"Yeah."

She gave him a long hug. Then, she gave him a long look. "So you know, I always tune in to watch you while you work, when I can. Tim was upstairs doing his homework tonight, so I put on my headphones and was there with you, in spirit. I know."

"Jesus, Marian," He said. "I've told you, you don't have to..."

She shushed him, putting a finger to his lips, and looked him straight in the eyes. "I know. I know. But I'm telling you: even if they put me up there, naked on that pole, on that stake, and you have to push the button to get Tim his medicine, You. Push. That. Button." She gently poked his chest with every word. "Understand?"

Phillip didn't want to contemplate that. Instead of answering with words, he nodded.

Marian smiled. "Good. Now, Tim is refusing to go to bed unless you read to him first. I offered, but evidently I don't do the voices right, and he told me you two are just getting to the good part where they finally get to the dragon mountain. Since tomorrow is Saturday, and it isn't a school night, I told him he could stay up until you got home to read to him. Why don't you go on upstairs?"

He smiled, kissed his wife, and hurried upstairs. Reading to his son was the best part of his day.

Spending half an hour reading to his enthusiastic boy about dragons and secret doors and magic rings, really put things in perspective. His wife was a very smart woman. He just needed to be reminded what really mattered.

The world really wasn't such a bad place. Everything would be fine. Everything was fine.

~Fin~