Talia's been sentenced to death. She can be hanged, guillotined, or shot by a firing squad...

Talia's been sentenced to death. She can be hanged, guillotined, or shot by a firing squad. Pick one and describe her execution in detail

shot into space

Shoot her while hanging from a guillotine. NEXT.

i wanna throatfuck her to death

Her feet will look so good as she dangles from a noose

Force to eat packages of blue dye, the dry shit.

Thrown off a building.

Duh.

im into feet and those arent great feet :-/

Her head would look great on a spike

hanged,
it's only right that this fat cunts own weight causes her death

tie her down and whip the flesh off those tits while she writhed and screamed. then after a good ass fucking, march her to the noose and watch her wriggle til the end

wwyd?

If make sure she strangled as long as possible at the end of a noose and play with her little feet as she died.

what is going on?

more

She's begging to be hanged

Milked to death. No food, no water. Every day, just milk dem titties dry, until she is dead from lack of nutrition

i'd chain her to a post by the water as the tide came in. the hot sun would burn her naked body as she begged to escape, the water slowly coming in up to her tits

kill your self

She's begging for a double quarter pounder with cheese and a large fry.

I've never actually seen her before. Any good videos?

She sells videos but I haven't purchased one yet

It began with the new Puritans. Their righteous proclamations from the pulpit found their way to Washington, and inside a decade the past found new footing in the present. Dirty words got scrubbed, filthy images were incinerated; the wealth of knowledge considered degenerate and unfit for consumption was relegated to a few servers on the Internet. By design they were difficult to access.

But to Talia, this was a comfort. It meant they couldn't find her, not easily; and if they did, they would only incriminate themselves.

She stood by the edge of the wood, twenty miles from the city. Out here, nobody had eyes to pry, ears to eavesdrop; out here there was nothing but the forest, and the wind, and the shrill whisper of cicadas through the boughs.

"All I have is a fifty, so the shots will be a little tight," the photographer said. "By the way, thanks for coming on such short notice."

She's gonna sob as they tighten the noose around her neck. She'll probably piss out of fear too

I like where this is going. I'll keep bumping.

fuck, wow. i havnt talked to her in ages. she was super fucking cool to me on mfc. we talked often for a while. i forgot about her -_- . sexy fuck. small world

"Of course," Talia said. "Do you like what I've done with my hair?" She ran her fingers through a mop of mauve and magenta; it wasn't real, of course. Her own hair was a close-cropped brunette, but sewing in the prismatic wig was easy enough.

"Looks good, real punk rock," said the photographer. "All right, go ahead and get comfy." He affixed a large lens to the end of his camera: it was old, metal, and entirely manual, and entirely forbidden. Anything which could, even in the slightest, contribute to idolatry was considered heretical to possess without explicit Dais authorization. It occurred to her that he might have it, though; there were plenty of perverts in the cloth.

She stood with her arms out, hands behind her head, meeting at the wrist.

"How's this?"

"Ah, that's good. Perfect. Hold still."

Every click of the shutter was a subtle act of treason: a refusal to submit, a denial of whatever command, edict, or order they issued. She herself didn't waste time getting into the digital wasteland; for one, she didn't know how to use it. For another, if she was even tempted, she was certain she'd be caught.

Somewhere, in the recesses of the world, were places still free and hopeful and optimistic. Those places, she realized: they were her audience. To be worshiped, admired, to be loved, lusted after—anything was better than to be cloistered away and hidden.

"By the way," the photographer said, "where'd you get the ink? That's...ah, Poe, right?"

"Right," she said.

"Bend over frontward--yeah, like that. He was a writer?"

"One of the best," she said. "You ought to read 'The Raven'. Brooding, moody."

"What's it about?"

i'd lead her to the gallows, tie the noose around her neck. she'd scream, then beg me for clemency. she'd offer me anything i wanted - she'd let me do anything to her body as I stripped her clothes off. she thrust her chest out towards me in one last desperate plea, but i'd pull then lever as she screamed. i'd watch her feet dangle and tits jiggle as she fought the noose, only to heave her chest one last time

wwyd?

Nice, I'd love the chance to get a footjob from her and taste her pussy

She explained the plot: woeful young man, talking raven, and omens of everlasting solemnity.

"Sounds like any Tuesday around here," he said. "Ah. Shit, I'm out. Lemme load some more."

She stood straight, arms behind her back, while the photographer loaded more film into the camera.

"Where'd you get it done?"

"Oh, it's a small place. But of course it would be. He does it with bamboo needles and patience. It hurts like hell, but at the end, it's beautiful."

The photographer snapped shut the back and wound a few frames forward. "Isn't it risky, though? You dunno who could be what. He might be able to tattoo, he might not. That's defiling your body, right?"

"Oh, stop," Talia said, waving her hand in a dismissive manner. "You sound like those old fucks in the throne rooms."

These feet will struggle so beautifully

My fantasy died real quick. I saw black cock on her vid site. Disgusting shame

"But what's it called? The tattoo parlor. I was thinking of getting some done, you see..."

She told him.

"Ah, I know that neighborhood."

He lifted the camera and moved right in, close to her face.

"A little near, don't you think?"

"Oh, I just wanted to capture it. The exact, specific moment."

"The moment what—"

Around her neck a lash was thrown and yanked back once, hard.

She hit the ground and the wind was knocked out of her. Glaring upward, she saw a man in black, with a white mask, staring back at her. An electric jolt like lightning shot across her nerves, and her stomach filled with a hot, coals-and-embers burning.

"Sinner," the white mask said. "Sinner."

"Got it here," said the photographer, tapping the camera. "Enough to make short work of her. Really, when I get it developed, they'll probably just crucify her. Might be more compassionate and Christian-like to hang her now."

She tried to stand; she tried to run, but the white mask yanked her back, the rough rope cutting into her skin.

"They're just p-pictures," she managed to spit. "Just pictures!"

The white mask hoisted up on the rope, dragging her to her feet. With his other hand he grabbed her breast, and squeezed, twisting the nipple until she fell to her feet again.

"Whore," he said. "Sinner."

"Oh, don't be dramatic," the photographer said. "Wait--let's do! I've got almost half a roll left on this. Let's make some proper art. Sin should be punished, and we should remember it, eh? Go ahead. Let's really show her what the price of wickedness is."

The white mask wrapped his fingers around her neck, and slowly, the word went all to darkness.

It wasn't much better when the light came back. Her lip was split, her jaw was swollen; looking down, she saw her body was pockmarked by bruises, welts, lacerations. Her abdomen and legs were sore, and there was a sharp, cutting pain between her legs.

The white mask lifted his pants and cinched them back together.

Click.

"Perfect!" the photographer said. "Just that, the exact moment she realizes what her sins have cost her. I'd say you lost your dignity, but honestly, all that sinful ink. You never had any to start with, did you?"

Deep in the pit of her stomach she felt the first frosty chill of rage and hate swell.

Hot. I can't wait for her to die

"Fuck you," she spat. "Fuck you!"

"Nah, not me. Never preferred girls. Him, though! Amazed he didn't turn you inside out." Turning to the white mask he said: "I've got two shots left. Let's make them count."

Here she realized that she had been pulled upright, in a chair, bound. The rope was still around her neck, but the other end of it was draped over a branch of one of the trees near the forest's edge.

"No!" she shouted. "No! Please, I can't—forgive me! Forgive me!"

Click.

"Simply exquisite. Okay, that's enough foreplay. Send her to heaven."

The white mask walked around her, saying nothing. She screamed, she spat, she bargained. Every surge of blood pulsing through her punctuated each and every cut and bruise and welt. The photographer stood in front of her, camera up, adjusting focus. She spat blood at him, and it splattered against the lens.

The white mask yanked, and held. Up she went, chair and all, naked, afraid, wounded.

It took fifteen minutes, but it was done. Talia's corpse hit the ground and lay still. The photographer got nearer, nearer: click.

"Should have got her hanging, but she was such a mean little bitch," he said. "Should do well to illustrate what penalties sin incurs. Well. That's enough. Let's go show off our good deeds."

"The body," the white mask said. "Bury?"

It was a good question. Even a corpse so ruined would still raise questions, and anyone passing by might suspect it was undeserved. He sat beside the body, running his fingertips over its forehead.

It was a shame, really. She might have made somebody a beautiful bride. She might have had a future, a good one: or perhaps she would have been a brood sow.

"Do whatever you want with it. She's still warm. Make her a fuck-puppet, if you prefer. Just ditch it somewhere when you're finished. Shall I meet you back home?"

The white mask nodded and lurched forward over the corpse, loosening the noose, running his filthy fingertips over the breasts.

"Like a dog on a bone...well, so be it."

It was hard not to laugh watching the white mask hunched over her corpse, pushing her thighs together, and thrusting his cock between them. No technique at all: just the grisly thrill of satisfaction.

Hell yeah dude, love thinking about all the cum and piss spewing out of her pussy as she dies. I wonder if she'd do a simulated snuff custom video.

When he made it back, the first thing he did was develop the film. It was easy enough: keep the temperature constant, and keep an eye on the timer. Once that was finished he let it suspend for two hours, then scanned it all in.

"Ah...that, now. That's magnificent."

She stood with her hands behind her head, wrists linked. There was something satisfying about exacting so irrevocable a punishment, but only when it was really deserved. The unnatural hair, the sinful sketches on her skin, the brazen way she put herself on display like meat to be bought: she'd earned it.

He printed it up on canvas and hung it in his bedroom beside twenty other sinners whose ends he had chronicled.

The digital scan went live the next week. Only around a hundred people bothered to view it.

Art, he concluded, was never really appreciated in its own time.

Talia screamed as the hot bullets blew her naked chest apart. A hot chunk of her nipple blew into her face. She slumped against the pole she was tied to a piss streamed from her quivering bloody vagina. The last thing she felt was chunks of her hot brains splattering against her bare feet as I fired the coup de grace into her skull.

Talia's corpse after being cut down from the gallows

I hope she knows men are cumming thinking about her being executed

Talia sat in her cell, blindfolded. They had put a hard harness that secured over her eyes and around her head and kept her like that in the final days leading up to her execution date. She skipped the clemency board meeting, opting to have a bomb last meal consisting of lots of calories and meat and some booze they also allowed for her.
But those warm moments were now gone, and has always been tainted by the knowledge that she was living out her last days.
She pondered long and hard about what they could be planning for her. Suddenly, her cell door opened. She shuffled and kept herself upright as she felt the guards enter the room, strong hands grabbed at her and dragged her along the stone tile floor. Her ankles scraped against the sharp edges between tiles, she struggled to keep herself up as they pulled her and kept her on the floor.
The next few doors opened and she recognized the feeling of the sun hitting her skin, a warmth she had come to long for in her stay in the hole.
...1/2...

after thrashing around from being poisoned

Full pardon. Fuck these shitty threads.

Almost as bad as "why don't atheists..." threads.

Fuck yeah dude. More

Talia's excited for her public hanging

Shot by a firing squad, but they forgot their rifles and have to use their dicks instead.
Someone else elaborate.

Talia sobs as her neck is secured into the guillotine. He naked body is tied down as her death sentence is read. Piss streams out everywhere. The blade falls and slices off her whore head. Her naked body writhes and spews blood from the neck stump.