The Last Drop

I never knew why she had broken one of the capital rules. Didn’t she know what would happen if she were caught? It was probably just inexperience- the bravura of youth. Maybe she thought she’d get away with it. She was only twenty one.

I was sitting in my office playing Solitaire on the computer when Lydia walked in. She held in her hand, a file.
“I’ve got a job for you.”
“Ooh, someone’s been a naughty girl. Who was it, Sasha?”
“No, Lana Mills.”
“Lana Mills, Lana Mills… Isn’t she one of the new ones?”
“Uh huh.”
“What’s she done?”
“It’s serious.”
“How serious?”
“She ran away from her master and eloped with one of his friends. It‘s a capital offence.”
“Oh Christ! No! What age is she?”
“I’ll leave her dossier with you. Have a read of it.”
“When’s the date set?”
“Tomorrow. Her lashing is today.”
“What time?”
“Four.” I opened Lana’s dossier and staring at me was her profile. My eyes glanced at her date of birth and I did the sum in my head.
“Lydia, she’s only twenty one!”
“And?”
“It’s her first offence for fuck sake, you can’t hang a twenty one year old. It isn’t right.”
“She was perfectly aware of the rules. Am I to take it that you’re questioning orders from above? That’s a lashing offence.”
“Oh yeah, I’m going to flog myself now aren‘t I?”
“No. I’ll be the one doing it if you keep it up.”

I leaned back on my chair and perused Lana’s file. There were naked pictures of her from every angle. I suppose my file was the same. She was an amazing looking girl- perfect figure, porcelain skin and one thing that really caught my attention was her deep green eyes, draped over with a wisp of jet black hair. They had a hypnotic quality- like green pools you almost felt like drowning in. I read on.
One of the “commando’s” reports detailed the events of the arrest. Apparently the operation was smooth. The team had broken into the house where Lana and her paramour were holed up. They simply shot him in the head, drugged her and bundled her into a car. By the time anyone else knew what had happened, the Gulfstream was thirty seven thousand feet over the Atlantic on the way back to England. It was a textbook operation.
The reason Lydia had thrown the file on my desk was that I was the “punisher”. If one of our girls broke the rules, they’d be taken down to the “theatre” and I’d give them fifty lashes with the cat of nine tales. Depending on the girl, the theatre could be packed. I never liked the job, but someone had to do it. If I’m honest, the only reason I stayed was for the money. I had a little bit of a gambling problem a few years back and lost a lot of money. A woman approached me one day. Told me that if I came and worked for them, not only would they pay off my debt but pay me a pretty salary. In essence, they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
Checking the cheap clock on the wall, I noticed it was twenty to four. Time to get cracking so to speak.

The theatre was in one of the towers and so was a circular room. A ten foot wooden pole stood in the centre of the room and the floor was surrounded by tiered rows of seats. I stood down in the arena and looked up. Only Lydia was present in the “crowd”. God damn her, hadn’t she anything else to do? This young girl would have enough on her plate without being made a spectacle. Couldn’t Lydia afford her a touch of dignity?
For some reason, the rules demanded that I wear a mask over my eyes. That was kept in my locker where all the other equipment was stored. I took out everything I needed- ropes, collar, whip and mask. I didn’t have any special outfit for the job, just the standard club uniform; a crisp white shirt and a short black skirt- the same as all the other girls wore.
The black rubber mask was tiny- little bigger than a large pair of glasses. It felt tight and I didn’t know why. Had my head expanded? I checked everything and marched into the arena to wait. It wasn’t long before they brought the girl in. She was flanked by two wardens, not unattractive muscular girls that could take on the average man in a fight and win. The girls hands were cuffed in front of her, chained to her shackled ankles. I’d seen other girls cry at the thought of their flogging but this one, with her demise imminent, stood tall and impassive.
The wardens roughly unlocked her bindings and brutally tore her clothes off. It was time for me to get to work. Gingerly, I fastened the collar around her neck and led her to the pole where I chained one of the rings of the collar to a hoop, fastening her neck in place. I pressed her tightly against the pole, the shaft between her firm breasts, and tied her legs to the base with some rope. A hook jutted out on the other side of the post just above her head. A fastened the leather cuffs around her wrists and hung the chain from the hook, hoisting her hands above her. With my longest length of rope, I wrapped it around her waist and tied it tightly. I could see the rope digging into her pale, goose pimpled flesh- I suppose some things couldn’t be helped. Once I was sure she was secure, I began.
I really have to hand it to her. With each sharp blow I delivered she did not whimper once. Only the cuts and welts on her back belied her pain. I personally felt that a flogging would be enough for this girl. She knew the pain of disobedience and with one so young, she was unlikely to do it again. Still, I thought as I delivered the final crack, it wasn’t up to me.

After I had tidied the arena and put my gear away, I trudged deep into the bowels of the manor to the girl’s holding cell. Apart from her, the cells were empty. The two wardens stood outside and unlocked the door for me. Myself and the girl didn’t have any privacy as the wardens listened through the bars. Part of my job was to explain the execution procedure to the girl.
I sat on the chair opposite her and I explained in minute detail every aspect of the hanging. She listened, again impassive. After I had finished my explanation I leaned across and clasped her hands in mine. Gazing into her enchanting eyes I told her everything I wanted to say.
“You took your flogging well. You didn’t show them any pain. I’ve got to give you that.” She smiled weakly. “Look, you need to be strong tomorrow. You show them any weakness, they’ll love it.”
“Aren’t you one of them?” She had me there. I paused, trying to think of something to say but I couldn’t.
“Yes. But I didn’t want it to happen this way.” I noticed her eyes were looking at my neck.
“Isn’t that a Saint Christopher’s medal?” I looked down at the pendant around my neck.
“It is. Patron saint of travellers.”
“I was wondering if maybe you could let me have it. I’m don’t want to be alone on my journey.”
“Lana I’m sorry but it’s kind of a family heirloom. My mother would kill me if she knew I gave it away.” She looked disappointed. “Remember what I said, be strong, be brave. Whatever about the rest of them, I’m rooting for you.”

My husband never asked about what I did at work. In fact he grew tired of the stonewalling whenever he asked. I just told him that I worked for the government and I was bound by the Official Secrets Act and if I told him anything, I could go to prison. In reality, if I told him anything, I’d be hanged.
I lay awake on the pillow beside him while he sat up in bed reading Bukowski. As soon as his eyelids began to droop, he put the book down and noticed I was still awake. He kissed me on the lips and noticed my sullen demeanour.
“Anything wrong?” I faked a smile.
“No.”
“OK then, good night baby.” As he snored, I still lay awake thinking of the girl. I felt lousy for not giving her my medal. Maybe there was still time to make it up to her. My conscience had never felt this bad about an execution. The ones I had previously hanged had killed their masters. Maybe I didn’t think hanging them was right, but it was better them than Lana. Gradually, with a heavy conscience, I drifted off to sleep.

I waited patiently on the gallows for the wardens to bring the prisoner out. Again, the mask obscured a small part of my face. The clank of chains and the thump of feet on wood became audible and Lana appeared up the steps, bound like she had been the previous day and wearing the organisation’s uniform, just as I wore. They led her over to the trapdoor and unbound her. Then, they retired to the room beneath. Myself and Lana were completely alone.
Nothing in her face revealed the abject terror she must have been feeling. I respected her for that. That young girl standing tall atop the gallows could so easily have been me ten years ago. I shuddered at the thought. It was time for me to get to work.
“Have you anything to say before sentence is carried out?” She was silent. I tied up her hair pulled the black hood over her head. Lana would never see the light of day again. It was such a waste. I strapped her long, slender legs together at the ankles and cuffed her hands behind her back. With a short length of rope, I pulled her elbows together and bound them, hoisting her young breasts upwards. As a final dignified act, I wrapped wound some rope around her skirt so as it wouldn’t flap when she went through the trapdoor. Believe me, there were people down there looking up.
I dropped the noose dangling from the beam above, over the hood and tightened it around her beautiful neck. With that, Lana was ready. I went to the trapdoor lever. The drop would take place at my discretion. Looking at her, I thought of one last thing. Unclasping my St. Christopher’s medal from around my neck, I walked over to her and pressed it into her hand. She must have known what I was doing, as she grasped it in her palm and squeezed.
A lump formed in my throat as I tried to delay the drop for as long as I could. Eventually, I decided I must proceed. With a heave, I pulled the lever back. Lana fell and after travelling quite a distance the rope snagged and I heard a crack. It swayed and rocked from side to side. With every execution I had done, there had been a cheer from the crowd below, but now there was silence; just the creaking of wood as a tear fell from my mask. I marched quickly away from the gallows and back to my office
I sincerely hoped that I had done my best for her- that she hadn’t felt any pain. They’d be taking her down now for burial or cremation. I typed furiously on my keyboard and produced a short letter. Barging into Lydia’s office, I didn’t knock. I slapped the letter on her desk.
“What’s this?”
“Read it.” Lydia opened the envelope and scanned through the letter, stony faced.
“So you’re leaving us?”
“In two weeks.”
“What made you decide?”
“I couldn’t do it any more. Seeing that girl dangle at the end of that rope made me sick. I could see myself in her.”
“Of course, you never went down the slave route. By the way, don’t you owe us a debt?”
“As far as I’m concerned, today, I paid it.”
The next two weeks drifted slowly by. Some of the girls in the administration end bought me a cake. The whole thing was nothing out of the ordinary- just like leaving any office job.
As I pulled away from the manor in my car for the last time, I looked in my rear view mirror and saw Lydia leaning against one of the Doric columns looking out nonchalantly over the estate. I don’t know whether she knew it or not, but beside her stood Lana, smiling and waving. I smiled back.