A Centauress Dances Pt. 3

The procession wasted no time now that the young lady was refreshed and made presentable. They made way to the loading bay where the modified transport truck awaited. Gingerly, Marianne raised her forelegs and stepped up onto the raised bed. The suspension visibly sagged rearwards from the weight. Henry stood beside her, along with the four guards. The other two got into the cab up front and started the engine. The diesel rattled, the pungent scent of exhaust filled the bay as the truck crawled forward and out of the building.

It was a bright blue sky, a large cumulolimbus cloud skimming over the mountain range on the southern side of the bay. The tropical heat rolled over Henry and Marianne as the truck trundled down the road towards the gallows. Marianne watched impassively as the large concrete and steel frame structure loomed ever closer. A singular synthetic fiber noose swayed from the beam, its loop padded with a cotton strap. A simple metal eyelet attached acted as the knot. The truck jerked to a stop beside the gallows, the brakes squealing. Henry checked his watch. Fifteen minutes remaining. A few officials and journalists milled around, curious about the latest unfortunate scheduled to dangle. The heat clung to him, his sweat soaking into the pits of his uniform.

A cooler of water bottles was left in the truck bed, and he retrieved one, grateful for its iced cold touch upon his hand. He twisted the cap and took a long pull, the coolness soaking down his throat and into his body.

"Could I have a drink, too?"

Henry jumped. She looked down at him, her eyes locked onto the bottle. Her hair had already begun to stick to her forehead from her own sweat. He raised the bottle up. She took it, holding it with both hands and raised it to her lips. Henry watched as she drank deeply, her slender pale throat undulating, her breasts rising and falling. She closed her eyes as the last few drops rolled out of the now empty bottle.

"Thank you." A simple statement, but delivered in a way that felt like it was straight from her heart.

The priest arrived, along with the prison doctor. Four minutes remained. There was a muted silence as the crowd ceased chattering. A few cameras clicked away, their high quality lenses capturing every pore of Marianne's sculpted athletic body as she stood waiting for her death. Henry moved and thumped his fist on the roof of the truck cab. The driver performed a slow reverse into position underneath the gallows, placing the bed right where the trapdoor would usually be. Hydraulic pressure hissed as pistons raised the bed higher. Henry grabbed the waiting noose and pulled the loop over Marianne's bowed head. He cinched the noose tight, placing the eyelet under her left ear. From within his pocket he gathered a black fabric blindfold and pulled it over Marianne's eyes. The guards assisted him, looping restraints around all four of Marianne's legs.

The priest got up onto the bed, stood beside Marianne, one hand on her shoulder.

"Father, pray for me." She whispered, her voice strained.

Henry's watched beeped. There was no more time left.

The diesel engine rumbled as the truck pulled away. Marianne's hooves scraped along the bed as she desperately tried to hold on, but it was futile. Her rear legs dropped into thin air, her belly slammed onto the bed, her forelegs followed, and she was finally suspended. The noose sank deep into her neck, wrenching her pretty face up and to the left. Her lips drew back in an agonized snarl. Those pale arms rose, her slim fingers scrabbling at the rope. All four of her legs kicked and paddled. Henry watched mesmerized as her black coat rippled under the sun, her muscles spasming in fear and pain. Marianne's tail rose and fell, alternating into occasional twitching.

Between her legs, the underwear-diaper expanded, a long and rod-like object tented the fabric. Her penis pulsed, twitched before blasting a couple ropes of cum forth in such force it escaped the diaper before spattering the ground. Her upper body shivered, perhaps from the final release of pleasure chemicals washing through her dying mind. Slowly, Marianne's face darkened, reddish pink now. Her lips no longer snarled, now pushed apart as her tongue swelled from the pressure of the noose. Her arms dropped from the noose, limp and relaxed. Henry knew she was no longer aware of anything at all, her brain shuttered as blood no longer trickled past the crushing ring of rope encircling her neck. That healthy young equine body occasionally jerked as it swayed in a slow rotation. Her breasts sagged, nipples pointed, her neck stretched nearly twice its original length, blood dripping from her pert nose and running down her purple oxygen starved lips and rounded little chin.

Thirty minutes elapsed after the drop. The doctor accompanied Henry as they checked for vital signs. The now-still body was warm to the touch, but a few of her extremities were already mottling, signs of livor mortis. There was no heartbeat drumming its rythmic contractions within her ribcage. The blindfold was removed and Henry pried open the half shut eyelids, exposing those striking ice blue organs to the doctor's flashlight. Her pupils remained enlarged, unchanging and staring past both into some unknowable distance.

"Call the time, Henry".

Henry glanced at his watch once more.

"1305 hours, right on the dot."

The doctor scribbled away at the declaration of death form on his notepad. He muttered to himself as he filled out the boxes.

"Ms. Marianne Shelley, age 21. Gender, female. Race, Centaur. Weight, 1100lbs. Blood type AB. Time of death, May 10, 1992, 1305 hours."

Henry stretched and wandered over to the still-suspended body. Her skin shone, sticky with drying sweat. The heady scent of semen from her final ejaculation rose from the stained diaper. The truck slowly reversed once more, this time lowering the bed as the other guards surrounded the corpse. Henry took out his knife and sliced away at the noose. Marianne fell, halfway onto the bed. With many grunts of exertion, the men pulled the rest of the body onto the truckbed. Henry undid the velcro straps on the underwear, then the diaper. He dragged the soiled clothing down her hind legs and rolled it up to shove into a provided bucket. The men whistled as they saw her still erect penis. Strings of cum oozed from its head. Angel lust often affected male prisoners, but it was the first time he'd seen one in the women's section.

Thankfully, Marianne had found herself lacking in appetite the night before, had taken a restroom break in the morning and had avoided shitting herself during her dance. He could never get used to just how much some girls could pack into their bellies before their death. Orc women in particular always went for the largest meal available, which inevitably ended up filling their diapers immediately after their necks got rearranged on the long drop.

The truck arrived at the same loading bay they had departed from an hour ago. A rolling cart was waiting, along with an XXL sized body bag. The doctor had helpfully tagged the body bag already with Marianne's death records. From here, her body would be moved to the morgue, stored in the freezer while her nearest family traveled to pick up her corpse. The centaurs were very adamant about burial rites. Henry's role was finished however, and he had paperwork to fill out. He left the final tasks to the guards and walked back down death row to his office.

Anxious eyes followed him. Women of every race, each counting down the days to their own date with Henry and the noose. Each with their own sad, pathetic reasons for ending up under his care. Some had barely reached the adulthood before youthful naivete and impulsiveness led to them ending up on the row, many had lived long before making a single fatal mistake. Most were poor, ill educated, suffering from diseases of the mind. A few had been raised in priviledge, their money shielding them from consequences. On death row, they were all equal.