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Background: Santamos Island

An impoverished Caribbean island nation nears bankruptcy. In order to raise cash income from "tourists", the nation's leaders in desperation pass a law -- consensual executions of sane and un-coerced foreigners by other foreigners will be legal in public execution areas on the island. Santamos now has a thriving tourist industry: those coming to be executed, those wishing to be executioners, and many who simply want to watch the executions.

Santamos authorizes five types of public executions:

• • Hanging (long drop or short drop)
  • Beheading (guillotine or axe, or the traditional beheading by sword at dawn)
  • Firing squad
  • Garrote: in a chair with a band tightened by a wheel, or kneeling in front of a strangling-post, a cord tightened by turning a stick.
  • Drowning: at each hotel there are a dozen wooden stakes set firmly in the sand about midway between the low-tide line and the median (halfway between low- and high-tide). By high tide, the tops of the stakes are completely submerged.

In addition to the above, two of the hotels have private back decks where some other options are available, including hara-kiri. And there are some rich foreigners who have built beachside villas with equipment for their own favorite execution methods: gas chambers, impaling stakes, electric chairs, etc.

These executions take several forms, but perhaps the best-known is the Santamos amicable divorce. Let us say that Robert and Phillip have been married for some years, and the fire has simply gone out. They have merged their lives to an extent where a conventional divorce would be... complicated. But Robert has an execution fetish.

Robert and Phillip fly to Santamos. They spend a night resting at the Common Hotel. In the morning, they tour the execution facilities, watching hangings, garrotings, beheadings, shootings, and drownings. Robert chooses to be hanged.

They spend one last, passionate night together. In the morning, Robert gets up, eats a light breakfast, and strips naked, leaving his clothes folded neatly on a chair in the breakfast room. The two of them visit the hotel's concierge, where Robert signs the "Consent for Execution" form. Phillip as executioner, and the concierge countersigns as a witness. Phillip ties Robert's hands, and the two of them go out to the public gallows.

They have chosen an early morning execution, the most popular time, so there is a bit of a wait. But in perhaps 15 minutes, Robert is standing on one of five trapdoors with a noose around his neck. Phillip gives him a last handjob, and just as Robert starts to cum Phillip pushes the lever. The trapdoor opens, Robert falls six feet or so to stop with a quiet "crunch" sound as the jerk at the end breaks his neck.

An "amicable divorce," Santamos style.

And this year, the government is experimenting with a new attraction to bring in tourist money: a lottery. Any non-resident can register, specify an execution method, and choose a number between 1 and 100. Each morning a number is drawn at random. If your number comes up, an executioner will show up with your death warrant, lead you to the appropriate execution area, and "take care" of you.

Lottery participants receive a 50% discount on hotel and restaurant prices. Anybody who registers and stays for ten days will receive a substantial chunk of cash. But of course there's always the possibility that your number will come up...

This is the story of a wolf whose number was drawn, and the tiger who executes him.

---

I got the call on my cell phone. Sanborn's number has been drawn. I grab a shuttle ride to the Common hotel, pick up a house phone, and ask for Sanborn.

I watched the drawing on TV this morning. I didn't really want to, but I just had to. When the vixen pulled my number out of the bowl, I didn't know whether to clap my hands, or fall down and cry on my pillow. When the phone rings, I jump to answer it. "Hello."

"Sanborn?"

There's a lump in my throat. "This... this is he." The words come out in a rush. Still not sure what I feel. I'm getting excited, half-hard, but I can feel my tail trying to curl down between my legs, like the omega wolf who only gets whatever the rest of the pack doesn't want. In the past, I've usually been the beta, next to eat after the pack-leader.

"This is Damien, your executioner. Your number has been drawn. I"ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes. Bring your wallet and any jewelry. Don't bother with luggage or clothing."

I gulped, and managed to answer. "Uhhh.... Yes... I'll, uh, see you." I take my wallet out of my pants, drop my clothes on the bed, put my gold ring with a small ruby on my little finger, and head for the elevator.

I wait. A few minutes later a naked man walks out of the elevator with a wallet in his hand. I walk over and take him by one elbow. "Sanborn?"

"Th... That's me."

I read him his death sentence. "Sanborn: Your number has been drawn in the Male Snuff Daily Numbers. You are hereby condemned to be hanged by the neck until dead." He turns pale, but he hands his wallet over to me, along with a Rolex watch and a pinky ring. I take out the money. I show the paperwork to the concierge, who asks the inevitable question: You'll be checking out today, sir?"

"Hanged by the neck until dead." There's a feeling of finality, of inevitability, to those words. My executioner -- Damien -- is impressive: a Bengal tiger, 9 ft. tall. He has a firm grip on my elbow. I'm not going anywhere, except to the gallows. The concierge gives me an appraising look and asks, "You'll be checking out, sir?" I nod my head. What else is there to say. I signed the consent when I registered for the lottery, and there is no backing out now. The concierge takes out a fancy-looking seal and stamps the paperwork.

Damien takes me by the shoulders, turns me around, and ties my wrists together. I give an experimental tug, then pull as hard as I can. Nope. No way I can get my hands loose. He marches me out of the lobby. I stumble once...

Then seems to get control of himself and walks out the main doors with his head held high.

It's a short walk to the public gallows, less than five minutes. Sanborn does not resist, but I can sense there is some reluctance so I keep a tight hold on his left elbow. If he tries to escape, that hold -- just guidance at the moment -- will become a painful come-along.

It's mid-morning, the dawn execution rush is long over, so the line at the gallows is quite short. This is good, because Sanborn's legs are trembling, just slightly. I suspect that his knees might give way if he had to wait long, and I'd have to drag him up the steps. Undignified.

But it's less than a minute. Thwack-crunch. **A cat falls and stops, her neck twisted back and to one side. The attendant beckons us onto the platform. A few seconds later, Thwack-crunch**, as a stallion falls through the trapdoor nearest us. We see the rope from overhead down through the trapdoor, stretched tight, vibrating slightly and swaying a little from side to side.

Twenty seconds later, the attendant points us to the middle trapdoor. I guide Sanborn to the center of the trap.

Damien offers me a hood, but I shake my head, No. I want to see -- and to let him see my face as I strangle in the noose -- right up to the very end. The tiger pulls the noose over my head and cinches it snug around my neck, the knot behind my left ear and running toward the back. He pulls it a little bit tighter: just enough to produce a slight choking sensation, even though I can still breathe without effort.

This is it. I know what will happen. A fraction of a second of freefall. The noose will tighten around my neck and take my breath away. Forever.

Now, when there are no more decisions to be made, my traitorous legs finally stop shaking. I stand, tall and proud and more than half-erect. My tail is down a little. I know I am going to die, and my hindbrain -- the part from my remote reptile and fish ancestors -- wants to keep me alive. But my forebrain... that is ready. More than ready. This is why I entered the lottery. Oh, sure, the prize for lasting ten days was attractive. But that was just a sop to keep the snake-brain and the mammal brain distracted. This... This is what I went in for. The noose around my neck... the knowledge that it will soon choke the life out of me... Yes.

I see the my executioner start to kneel in front of me, and I dare to hope... for something extra.

I get down on one knee in front of him. I spit on my fingers and start moving them slowly around the head. It doesn't take long before the wolf's cock stands at full attention, pointing upward at a 45-degree angle. I slip my hand around the shaft, and wrap my mouth around the tip.

Oh! The tiger's has his mouth wrapped around me. It's hot and wet! He's obviously done this before: he knows just how to move and where to put his tongue. And the suction... exquisite.

Soon Sanborn is making quiet noises in his chest. I think he's forgotten the noose around his neck. I listen to the noises he's making and I speed up, faster and faster.

He's going faster. It feels so good! I pant with excitement, my heart is pounding, I need to cum so badly.

My victim's tail is thrashing, he's getting close. I don't want him to cum too soon. I slow down and start caressing other parts of his body to distract him from his center but keep him excited. I reach up to caress his chest, but avoid directly touching his nipples. I stroke his inner thighs and behind his knees. He's so excited that his knees are starting to weaken.

Oh, please, please, please. I need it so much! Let me cum! Please! Now???

He's ready. I push the lever. I hear the Thwack as the trapdoor opens. The wolf falls for a fraction of a second, then stops with a jerk, the gallows platform about level with his mid-thighs.

Kkkkck! That hurts, squeezing my neck so hard. Can't breathe, the noose is too tight. And I was just about to cum. Breathing hard, heart racing. Almost there, and I need air so bad. My lungs are have a little air, but it's stale, almost used up. I squeeze as hard as I can and manage to push most of the remaining air past my constricted throat. I try to pull in new air, but nothing comes. Just an ache in my chest to match the one in my neck.

That did it! About two seconds, and he's kicking like mad. I knew he'd get desperate quick, hanging him just before orgasm like that! Look at his feet go, like he's sprinting on a bicycle. Wow! I bend over farther...

What's this? Something wet and warm around my cock? Feels so good... distracting from the pain in my chest and throat, the swelling feeling in my head...

I've got him in my mouth again. Not too fast, just keeping him right at the peak of excitement. He must be feeling unendurable pleasure. At least, I hope so -- I try to always give satisfaction even if my hangees won't be around afterward to complain.

Need to cum so bad... need air... Please... Please, air. Please let me cum... Please...

He's slowing down now. Running out of energy. He's used up most of the oxygen stored in his bloodstream. Just about running on empty. I can sense the right moment; I speed up, licking and sucking... I want him to feel it before he blacks out.

Oh, God, Yes! _Yes! YES! _ Cumming! Cumming so hard!

I feel him start to spurt in my mouth and look up. Yes, his eyes are still focused and his arms and chest are tense. He's still with us... for a few seconds more.

Oh.... YES! Feels so good... everything going red... darker... pulse after pulse of pleasure spreading through my body... I thin....

Sucking him in and out, fast, to keep up the pleasure. His feet have stopped moving except a tiny trembling. His arms are relaxed. He's out... The last few drops flow into my mouth. I stand up, kiss him, and spread his cum on his lips. Then I swallow what's left in my mouth.

The audience applauds. They really liked that last touch, leaving the wolf looking as if he had given the blowjob instead of getting one.

I wait... a minute or so... his last piss spatters on the dirt below the trap. Sanborn is gone. The audience applauds again, a standing ovation this time, with cheers and whistles. They know I've done a good job for my victim.

I get out my cell phone, text "MA" back to the Commission: Mission Accomplished.