The Hangman's Daughter

"Now, sir, I take it you have never done this kind of thing before?" she asked, and I nodded in reply.

"Then I suggest, sir, that you follow my lead, if that pleases you, sir," and I replied that I would be pleased to be guided by her in all things.

"Now, sir, I'm going to fetch the prisoner," she continued, and left the room to reappear moments later leading a swarthy young fellow whose legs were shackled and hands tied behind his back.

"Sit down there, John" she ordered him, motioning to a wooden stool before which was a table on which lay all the implements required for shaving.

"Now, John, if you are good and quiet your last minutes could be very pleasant, but if not they could be most unpleasant. Do you understand?" she asked, turning the cut-throat razor lazily in her hand and looking meaningfully between his legs.

"I understand, ma'am," he replied in a thick West Country accent.

"What was John's crime?" I asked her,

"Sheep stealing," she replied.

"The most dastardly crime known to man!" I cried. "My family are sheep farmers!"

"Sheep buggerers, more like," the prisoner said.

At this the hangman's daughters arm came down in an arc with astonishing alacrity, the razor narrowly missing his left ear. "Now what did I say!" she cried. "Next time I shan't miss and you'll meet your Maker minus an ear."

"Right ma'am, I shan't forget, ma'am," he replied sheepishly.

"Alright," she continued, "Now let's get those trousers off, and I'll shave you. I have a very steady hand, but if you upset me it will become very unsteady and it'll be something worse than an ear you'll be missing. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She undid his belt and pulled his trousers down, revealing an impressively long cock, surrounded by thick dark hair. Her hands were indeed steady, and also nimble, and his cock was soon bald, with not a scratch on it. Her ministrations had made it stand up proud, its dome purple in the flickering torchlight.

"That's a fine cock you have there, John," she said, examining it admiringly.

"Aye, I've never had a complaint," he replied wittily.

"Now for me," she said, standing up and removing her hose to reveal a delightfully plump little arse and a cunny framed by a triangle of dark stubble. With deft fingers she set to work until she too was bald, her nether lips pouting to my and the prisoner's delight (his delight was evident from the state of his rod).

"And you, sir?" She turned to me. "Do you wish to be shaved?"

"I do most assuredly," I replied, pulling down my trowsers. My cock was already upright, as long as the prisoner's, but not quite its equal in girth. It became more upright still as she shaved it, holding it and moving it as she required. Soon she was done, and there the three of us sat, two hairless erect cocks, and one hairless cunt.

"He's been good, hasn't he, Father?" she said turning towards the person she addressed, who had been standing a short distance away, watching us.

"He has indeed, my dear," he answered, and she rose from her seat, grasped the prisoner's shaft and eased herself down on it, facing him. She unbuttoned her jerkin to expose her small rounded breasts, which he proceeded to lap and muzzle. He tried to thrust his hips, but she had planted herself so firmly on his cock that he was virtually immobilised, and she murmured soothingly to him, "Slow down my pet. In time, in time."

I watched her father to see how he reacted to the sight of his daughter thus impaled. It appeared to arouse him for his hand was working inside his trousers. Looking at me he said, "You know, don't you sir, that when a man is hung he will always spill his seed?" I shook my head, unaware of that interesting scientific fact. He continued, "My daughter finds that the most soothing balm for the slight, er, affliction of her face and back is a man's jism." As he spoke, she climbed off the prisoner's pole, from the tip of which a drop of moisture had emerged and was running slowly down the head, and sat back down in her chair.

"Aye," her father continued, "She's tried ointments and unguents, but there's nothing works so well to soothe the skin as a man's vital juices."

She looked slightly embarrassed but nodded in agreement with what her father was saying. She added, "You may do as you wish with me, as you men like to do, but I pray you not to leave me with child." I assured her I would not fill her belly, and to test the sincerity of her offer to do as I wished inserted a finger inside her warm and naked quim, her response to which was most welcoming, for she opened her legs wide to invite further ingress. As I fingered her slit her father teased her nipples with his fingers, making them stand out small and proud from her milky breasts. The prisoner, for his part, stared entranced at the scene before him, his cock hard against his belly.

I watched from the foot of the gallows steps as the hangman's daughter led him up, his cock waving before him and her gash clearly visible from my vantage point. She tied the noose around his neck, descended the steps and took my hand, leading me under and just to the side of the trapdoor. A length of rope had been tied to the lever which opened it. She took it in her hand and asked me whether I would like to pull the rope or whether we should do it together. "Together," I replied, and she looked at me thankfully.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Nervous, but excited," I replied.

"After he's hung you may do to me as you wish, but please do not plant your seed in my womb," she reminded me, reaching down to grasp my cock, which was now close to erupting. In response I too reached down and again inserted my finger in her slit.

"Shall we do it then?" she continued breathlessly. "Remember he would be hung anyway in a week."

"Aye," I assented, and we put our hands on the rope.

"On three," she said. "One, two, three."

We pulled, and the body came crashing down close to where we stood. She grasped the prisoner's legs as he swung and then his back arched and a veritable torrent of cum spewed from his cock and splattered on to her face. She smeared it eagerly into her skin while a torrent of filth among which the words 'fuck' and 'cunt' figured prominently issued from her mouth.

Once the flow of cum stopped I pulled her down on to the straw-covered floor and began to pound my hairless rod into her hairless gash. Within a few strokes I was close to spending, but I kept my promise and withdrew before I reached my climax, shuffling forward on my knees and spurting over her face, which was now covered with the double deposit. As I knelt, my cock dripping on her face, her father joined us, his trowsers around his ankles. He grasped his daughter's hips and turned her over so that she was kneeling with her arse stuck in the air, moistened his forefinger with the deposit on her face and applied it to her arsehole.

"This is how we do it at home, sir, though normally I use butter to oil the well," he explained to me as he eased his fat hairy cock into the orifice where Nature did not intend it. His steady, practised thrusts and her casual conversation as he fucked her suggested this was something they did regularly, and as they went about their business I weighed her bubbies in my hand and handled her hairless twat in time to their rhythm. When he reached his climax he withdrew and shot a long white stream over her back, which he smoothed in as she described to me how soothing it was for her skin.

"Do you mind if I shoot inside you?" I asked as I mounted her after her father, her rear passage comfortably stretched by his attention. "Please do, I love my arse filled" she replied, and so I deposited my seed inside her pretty little rump, which I then fingered in order to spread it over her face and back.

"Galatians Verse 9 Chapter 8" I told the servant as he took my horse when I arrived home, exhausted. I went straight to my room and got into bed, intending to take a short nap before meeting my family. There was, however, a gentle tap on the door, and my mother entered.

"How are you my dear?" she asked. I smiled weakly and she continued, "But how pale you look! Do you have a fever?" She placed her palm on my temples.

"No Mama, I am simply tired," I replied.

"And did you purchase the devotional book you intended?"

"I am afraid I was unable to find it, Mama."

"You poor dear," she continued. "You would be so much happier if only you had a young lady to comfort you."

"With such a gentle and caring Mama I have no need of other female company," I replied as she continued to stroke my brow. She leant forward and one of her bosoms fell into my open hand. I made no effort to move it and instead exerted the very slightest pressure.

"So sensitive, so unlike your father," she sighed, moving slightly closer, and I responded by lightly squeezing her bosom, my cock slowly hardening beneath the sheets...

Gentle Reader, the time has come to discontinue this narrative. Although it deals with the most tasteful subjects in the most delicate way (in contrast to the scribblings of that rough Shakespeare fellow with his horrid talk of eyes being plucked out) I am aware that the sensibilities of some lady readers may be so delicate that they may even be offended by a moral and uplifting narrative such as this, and therefore I desist from continuing and possibly wounding their tender sensibilities. If, however, any readers wish me to describe the more piquant experiences which followed upon the relatively tame events I have described here, I invite them to contact me and I shall oblige to the best of my ability.