Mr Couch
04-15-2010, 11:37 PM
This is a brutal story where a woman kills a man. If this is a problem for you, please don't read it. Thanks.
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Julie Part 1 - Room 5C
It was the morning of Julie's first day serving her punishment at the Facility. She was taking a shower and couldn't help but thinking about yesterday's events with Allie and Ben. She still found what she watched Allie do hard to believe. That plump woman with the fat ass had sat on the midget's face. Not only that, but his whole head had been inside her butt. It had been mesmerizing, watching her crush his head like that, with him not able to breathe inside of her and thrashing frantically to get air.
And then Julie had sat on the midget's face herself, smothering him to death with her ass. She had killed him! By sitting on his face so he couldn't breathe! Allie had told her that he was lucky to be smothered to death underneath her ass, but Julie still had a hard time believing it. Sure, she might have a pretty bottom, but he had suffocated to death inside it, flailing and screaming in agony for well over 2 minutes before he passed out.
Julie was still uncertain how she was going to kill her first real patient today. None of the techniques in the information packet seemed to be even close to painless, but some of them had to be better than suffocating to death. They had to be. The Blunt Trauma method was her only other real option though.
Letting her thoughts drift closer to the back of her mind, Julie realized she had been done with her shower for some time now. Turning off the water and stepping out, she dried herself with a towel and went to her bedroom to choose an outfit. Stepping inside her closet, she looked at the clothes, thinking about what to wear. Deciding on something soft, she finally chose a pair of tight black stretchy pants that molded to her legs and ass, and a simple white tshirt with some writing on it to go over her bra. She hoped she would look un-intimidating with these on and grabbed a pair of flip flops from the floor to wear to the Facility. Finished dressing, she went back to the bathroom to dry her hair, apply her makeup, and finish the rest.
Finally done in the bathroom, she headed to the kitchen for a little breakfast before she headed out. She chose to have a frozen breakfast burrito since it was fast. Grabbing her keys and purse from an endtable in the living room on her way to the front door, she locked the door and got in her car.
Julie opened the front door of the Facility and walked in on the tiled floor. She had been dreading this moment for the last five weeks, ever since the health commitee court told her of the punishment it had decided on. They had decided to make her be a staff member at a Facility, so she could get a first-hand look at how serious the Sarapol situation was. She had already learned it was serious because of her brother, but the health commitee apparently wanted to ram it home hard.
Walking to the receptionist's desk, Julie was disappointed to see no one waiting to be helped. She wouldn't have minded killing a few more minutes standing in line. She remembered the mean-looking woman behind the desk from yesterday, Carly she thought the name was. She stepped up to the desk, the woman's eyes coming up to meet hers. Julie swallowed hard and opened her mouth to speak, but the receptionist spoke first.
"You have to be 18 years old to be a staff member girl. What are you doing here?" she asked Julie curtly.
"I ... I am a staff member. And 18." She hurriedly dug the Facility ID she had gotten yesterday out of her purse and held it out to the woman.
Carly's eyebrows rose slightly. "Julie Stevens is it? Well, Julie, let me see what I have for you this morning." The hard-eyed woman sorted through some papers on her desk until she seemed to find what she was looking for. "You have an execution this morning, a 74 year old man by the name of Harold, he's ready in room 5C. Says here he wants a clothed execution. You will have 30 minutes to kill him since it is your first time."
Julie felt her cheeks go warm at that last bit, but thanked Carly and walked away with butterflies in her belly. She found room 5C all too soon, she had remembered passing it while walking the hallways yesterday. Her brain whirring with thoughts and her stomach pounding, Julie opened the door.
She stepped in, seeing immediately that this room was identical to the one Allie had been in. Then she looked at the man, the OLD man, lying on his back in the middle of the floor. The butterflies flogging her middle turned to birds hammering away when she saw him. This man was nearly bald with only a small patch of white hair on his head. His eyebrows were solid white, and his skin was heavily wrinkled due to his long years. He seemed like a nice old man and looked fairly similar to her grandfather that was still alive in a nursing home. Could she bring herself to kill him? He was probably somebody else's grandpa. Julie shook her head, remembering that he HAD to die. He was infected, a danger to society that needed to be removed for the good of all. She sadly took off her flip flops and set them on the ground, closing the door.
"I can hear someone there," the old man suddenly said in an aged voice. "Come in closer where I can see you."
"Hi Harold, i'm Julie," she said as pleasantly as she could, walking a few more paces into the room.
"Julie huh?" the old man said, finally able to see her with his head pressed against a foam block. "You seem like a nice girl by first look at you. So you're the one that will be killing me eh?" He laughed then, a deep wheezing laugh.
Julie stared at the carpet, fidgeting. "Yes sir. I am your executioner," she said as calmly as she could. "I'm sorry."
Harold laughed again. "You don't need to be sorry girl. I've lived a long and good life."
"How would you..." Julie cleared her throat. "How would you like to die?"
Harold got a considering look on his face and Julie waited for him to tell her, more than a little anxious. Finally the old man chuckled in that deep voice of his and answered dryly, "I'm sure whatever you decide will be a good choice, girl. I'm too old to really care too much about something like that." He chuckled again, looking amused.
Julie felt disappointment and a little frightened that she would have to choose how to kill him. She tried to think of the quickest, most painless way possible, thought furiously while studying the man's body. He was still watching her.
She had decided to try a Blunt Trauma technique on her way to this room, it had to be better than suffocation. Studying Harold's body, she determined that the head was the obvious body part to target. She wasn't very strong, but maybe she could knock him out with some blows to the head. How, though? How would she give him blows to the head? She went over the Blunt Trauma techniques in her head, thinking of the best one. She finally and reluctantly whittled the options down to stomping on his face with her foot. They all seemed brutal to her, but stomping on someone's face seemed likely to be the most effective and quick.
Her mind made up, Julie slowly walked the rest of the way to Harold on the floor, those birds still flying around in her belly. She walked around close to his head and tried to smile as reassuringly as she could. Still looking at her face, he smiled up at her. Like her grandpa did.
Julie winced and suddenly raised her bare foot with purple nails and brought it down onto his mouth with a dull thud-like slap. The old man flinched as her foot connected over his mouth. It hadn't been a very hard stomp, she realized. With Harold still silently watching her, she raised her foot off of his mouth and brought it down again, harder this time. He gave a deep grunt and crinkled his eyes at the harder blow. She winced again and then made herself bring her pale slender foot up and brought it down on his mouth a third time, bringing another grunt from his lips. This was not working very well. She wasn't very strong. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Julie closed her eyes and brought her foot down as hard as she could onto Harold's mouth. She felt the bottom of her foot land very hard with a deep thud, accompanied by the crunch of teeth breaking and a loud, pained cry.
Startled by the old man's loud cry of pain, Julie opened her eyes and raised her foot from the mouth that had been warming the bottom of her foot with its quick, wheezing breath. Once she had pulled her purple-toed foot up and off to the side to see, she gave a little cringing whimper at the sight of his mouth. He had his mouth open, panting through it. She could see red blood covering some of his teeth and some more on his tongue. Two of his front teeth had been knocked out. Beyond that one cry of pain, the man had said nothing else, just breathed loudly and quickly in a steady wheeze. His eyes were tight though.
"I'm so sorry," Allie shouted at him. "Are you okay?"
Still breathing hoarsely through his mouth with a slightly scrunched up face, the man gave a soft grunt and said gruffly, "I've had worse girl." He scrunched up his face more and closed his eyes. "Get on with it honey, just get on with it."
Julie sighed sadly. Biting her lip, she moved her foot over the old man's leathery forehead. Maybe she could knock him out easier here. She brought her foot down hard on his dry forehead, bringing another deep grunt from him. She took a deep breath and started stomping, bringing her little foot down on his face above his eyes. Bringing more grunts from him, she gritted her teeth and started to stomp him as hard as she could. He started crying out loudly then, as she watched herself stomp his face. As she continued, his cries of pain got louder and louder, and higher in pitch. Not too long after that, he started screaming as her heel slammed hard into his skull. Julie jumped at each scream, each a little more intense than the one before it. The multiple screams seemed to turn into one long scream repeating itself then, as her face put on a permanent wince and she locked her jaw tight, stomping on his face as hard and fast as she could. His forehead was now dark red and he jerked his body at every blow, his eyes still shut tight and his hands clenched even tighter, his arms shaking in the leather straps each time her foot landed.
"I'm sorry!" she shouted as her foot came down hard, again and again. "I'm sorry!" she cried in a thick voice. Harold was screaming loudly, head jerking back and forth with eyes closed, face trying to brace itself against her stomps.
His screams loud in her ears, Julie realized her leg was apparently too weak to knock this durable old man out. Not quickly, anyway. With a loud cry of desperation, she quit stomping his face and stepped smoothly around him and got down, straddling his body, sitting on his chest in her black pants. His body still quivering against the restraints, his head stopped bouncing off the foam blocks and his loud screams tailed off into shorter cries through his wide-open mouth and deep pain-filled moans.
"Why are you doing this?" the old man shouted up at her, eyes still shut tight.
"I'm so sorry," she replied painfully. "I'm sorry."
His eyes opened then and looked up at her, looked into her own eyes with anguish. She wanted to cry, staring into his bright blue eyes filled with pain. Taking a shaky deep breath, she winced and punched him in the face, connected on a cheek. She saw and felt him flinch as her fist indented into his skin. Drawing her balled-up fist back from the reddened cheek, she punched him again, on the nose this time. He cried out and she pulled back again, seeing a little blood start to come out of one nostril. Taking another deep breath, she drove her fist down repeatedly onto his face, him crying out as she heard and felt each dull smack. She was punching various parts of his face, his eyes, mouth, nose, cheeks. Punching wildly, her aim poor. Harold was screaming again, shaking his head wildly back and forth, eyes closed tight, and she could feel his body twisting under her, breathing in jerky heaves. She could see blood on her knuckles now, every time her white-knuckled fist drew back behind her head. She was shaking and whimpering as she drew her fist back again and again, punching this old man in the face.
Her hand was starting to hurt, from beating it against Harold's hard face. Looking at his beaten face, she saw that she had broken his nose, it was swollen and bent roughtly 10 degrees to one side rather than straight down, and it had blood coming out of both nostrils. Both eyes had purple rings around them, and most of his face was dark red in color, one eye appearing puffy. Most of the blood on his face appeared to be from his nose, and as her fist connected with his face, over and over, it was smirching and smearing the blood. Her right hand had blood all over her knuckles now, with some smeared onto her fingers. She noticed a few spots of blood on her white shirt as well, splattered onto it somehow while she beat his bloody red face.
Still screaming, Harold managed to shout painfully up at her, his words cut off by a loud smack and a little shriek twice before she paused her bloody fist in the air.
"It hurts!" he cried loudly. "Please stop. Please!" He screamed up at her.
"Oh my God ... Oh my God ... Oh my God...," she repeated in a horrified voice, with wide-eyes, slowly rocking up and down on his chest and staring down at his bloodly, beaten face. "I'm sooo sorry!"
"No more! No more! Please! I beg you!" he yelled at her. He started coughing up blood, some of it landing on Julie's neck and the front of her shirt.
"I have to kill you," she replied sadly, her eyes getting moist. "I have to!" she shouted at him mournfully.
She got up off his chest and and stood up, slamming her foot down desperately onto his bloody face, her heel coming down on his mouth painfully, the sole of her foot slapping onto his broken, bloody nose. He screamed, a muffled sound as her heel opened his lips and came down into his opened mouth, stopping against his wet tongue. She felt his hot breath against the hard skin of her heel as she lifted it back out of his mouth, raising her foot off of his face.
Fighting the urge to cry, she quickly stepped around and faced the side of his head, moving her left foot until her toes were almost touching the side of his neck. She then started to stomp his eyes with her right foot. Her eyes moist and blurry, she brought her foot up high, thrusting her leg down hard, landing with her blood-smeared heel onto the purple puffy eye, the balls of her foot onto the other closed eye. He screamed again, a pain-filled shriek as her foot came down hard. When she lifted her foot to come down again, she could see blood in between her toes and splattered on some of her purple toenails.
Almost crying, and crying out softly in little high-pitched moans, Julie slammed her foot down onto Harold's eyes twice more and could do it no longer. Looking at her bloody foot and his bloody beaten face, she shuddered. What was she going to do?
Harold opened the eye that wasn't puffy and looked up at her in agony and terror. "Just kill me! Please, just end it!" he almost sobbed.
With blurry eyes, she stared at his open eye. "There is another way. I ... I didn't want to do it, but I don't see any other way."
Harold coughed, spitting out blood onto his chin. "What way is that?" he asked with a grimace.
Julie took a long deep breath. "If ... if I sit on your face, you won't be able to breathe. You will smother to death," she said. "In my ass," she finished quietly.
Harold's eye widened in shock. "You will sit on my face? My FACE?" he repeated incredulously.
She took another breath. "Yes. If I... If I sit on your face, you will suffocate."
Harold winced, his open eye growing tight. "There has to be another way. I've heard drowning is the worst way to die, and suffocation is just a drier version of that."
Julie slowly shook her head sadly. "I'm so sorry. I wish there was another way. I HAVE to," she finished. She turned around and straddled his chest.
"No. Please don't. Noooo!" she heard him scream desperately up at her back. She winced, trying to shut out the frantic sound of his voice. She bent over, feeling her small ass stretch the soft material of her tight black pants. She noticed she didn't have any underwear on underneath them. Ignoring the old man's hoarse, repeated shouts for her to stop, his frantic pleading, she slowly lowered her bottom down onto his face.
She heard a scream as she felt his broken nose first push into the asscrack of her stretch pants, felt his nose push the soft material up between her buttcheeks. She felt it push up until it nestled against her asshole, as she felt her buttcheeks settle onto the rest of his face, flattening out until she was sitting on it.
With him still screaming muffled screams into the material covering her pussy, she brought her feet off the floor and stretched her legs out across his body, lifting her hands off the carpet behind her and bringing them into her lap. She felt his nose crush into her asshole and her buttcheeks mold hard onto his face.
Julie, eyes still moist, her vision blurry, peeked over at the side of his head. She saw her black pants-covered ass squishing over the top of his face and down the sides of his head perhaps 3 inches. Her ass was eating his face, 115 pounds crushing down on it. He started to move his head under her, hitting the foam blocks and gently swaying her from side to side. His hands were closed in fists and he was jerking at the straps securing his arms to the floor. He was grunting into her, she could hear the muffled sounds warming her pussy through her pants.
"I know you can't breathe mister," she said hoarsely. "Please try to relax. I know your nose hurts." She cleared her throat and tried to add some sympathy to her tone. "I know I'm sitting on your face, but it will be over in a few minutes." Harold responded with a loud muffled grunt that warmed her crotch again. He started jerking harder at his bonds and twisting his feet.
After about a minute with her soft ass spread out over his face, Harold started thrashing his legs and body, twisting and sliding as far as he could on the floor. His head was still whacking against the foam blocks, making her sway slightly on top of him.
"I know you're suffocating Harold. I'm sooo sorry. I know it hurts....." She firmed her tone resolutely. "I have to sit on your face so you can't breathe. I know I'm heavy." There was nothing to do though, she couldn't get off him, couldn't let him breathe.
Close to a minute and a half after she sat on his face, he started screaming into her ass. She felt a tear roll down her cheek from one of her wet eyes. "Oh no. Oh Harold," she said sadly. "I know it hurts. I know you can't breathe. Oh honey...," she said softly. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry."
She could feel his nose and mouth under her. She could feel his whole face as she sat on it, could feel part of his face wedged up into her asscrack, molding her stretchy pants tight up into her asscrack like a second skin. She could feel her warm nylony buttcheeks molding heavily over the rest of his face and part of his head, as they squished down on top of him. She knew he couldn't breathe, knew he needed air badly, his lungs burning and his brain on fire.
"Oh no... Oh, you poor thing...," she said sadly, quietly, feeling his body thrash under hers, thrash violently, with his arms jerking against the leather straps, his fingers clawing the carpet. She wanted to cry, she felt for him so bad. She leaned forward slowly, careful not to let him breathe under her ass squishing down on his face. She reached towards his right arm strap, the arm secured by it jerking and twisting wildly. She undid the strap binding it and grabbed the arm, jerking in her hands. She slipped her hands down his arm until she grabbed his hand with both of hers and brought his twisting arm by the hand back until she could secure it across her leg, squeezing his hand onto her thigh with both hands.
"Try to relax honey. I know it hurts," she cooed softly to him. His hand clawed and gripped at her leg in a panic, trying to get hold of something, anything. She wrapped both hands around his fighting hand, squeezing it and pressing it into her thigh. "You're doing very good. I know you're suffocating. I know," she cooed softly again. "Let me hold your hand."
The old man was shrieking into her ass now, loud panicked shrieks of pain and terror. His whole body was violently thrashing on the floor as she remained sitting on him, her now hot and sweaty butt molded down over his face, crushing his head into the carpet.
She started stroking his hand, as much as she was able to, feeling his fingers grip against her leg. "Shh. It will all be over soon," she whispered to him. She started to bounce on him then, little bounces that brought more weight down onto his face. She rolled her hips a little as she came down, massaging her small bottom into and around his face, squishing her fleshy asscheeks into his face and over the side of his head, massaged her asshole hard onto his broken nose inside her asscrack, molded her asscrack down around his nose.
"Go to sleep honey," she said softly. "Suffocate in my bottom," she purred gently, bouncing gently on his face. She struggled his hand fighting against both of hers, struggled it into a fist and brought it up so she could kiss it. "Try to relax. Not much longer baby," she said with as much sympathy as she could.
She brought his wild hand back down to her thigh and stroked it. He was going berserk now, after more than 2 minutes with her sitting on his face. She kept bouncing, massaging her small cute bottom onto and over his face. She didn't know if she was supposed to, but she stopped bouncing and moved her right foot slowly, careful not to let Harold breathe, until she had slid the sole of her foot onto his now hard cock. She could see it pushing up into his gauzy blue pants. Her foot still had blood on the bottom of it, with some drying blood still on her toes. This was a clothed execution, so she couldn't pull his pants down, even if she could sit up off his face. He was screaming muffled shrieks into her sweaty ass, going absolutely crazy in his restraints. She thought she could almost get dizzy from his shaking head swaying her slightly back and forth rapidly. Pressing her foot down onto his hard cock, she rubbed it up and down, from her toes curled down pressing into his shaft, to the start of her heel. Mainly it was just her finely wrinkled sole pushing down on his cock, rubbing up and down. She could feel her thigh in its tight stretchy casing lifting up off his cheek and pressing back down onto it. His shrieking was very muffled, but it vibrated her pussy as she stroked him with her bloody foot.
Suddenly, her eyes widened as her bowels shifted and she could feel a pocket of gas build up inside her, instantly wanting to come out. She needed to fart but she couldn't get up off his face either. Since there was no other way, Julie ever so slightly squirmed until she felt his broken nose unsquash slightly from her asshole, one buttcheek a hair higher than the other. Having to push hard around his nose, she finally managed to fart, a loud and muffled escape of gas that vibrated. Blushing, she settled back down onto his face, her asshole once again crushing his nose.
"Sorry about that," she spoke down at him. Then giggled as the smell of the fart hit her own nose. It was the last thing he was ever going to smell. This morning's breakfast burrito. She blushed even harder thinking about that.
She continued to stroke his hand, fighting more weakly. She knew he was starting to suffocate to death now. He could no longer think. She knew all he felt was a very heavy weight on his face, his lungs were in agony, and his brain felt like it was going to explode. She hoped he could feel her foot rubbing his cock, but she didn't think he did.
"Maybe half a minute until you pass out dear," she said gently. "I know you can't hear me and I know it hurts. You'll be asleep soon, I promise." She patted his hand and removed her foot from his cock, moving it back next to his leg. She figured it was pointless now. She didn't know if he had cum in his pants, but she hoped so. She continued to sit.
Around half a minute later, Harold looking to be jerking mostly involuntarily, she thought it was an even chance whether he was conscious or not. He was no longer shrieking. She started bouncing on his face again, more heavily this time, lifting her feet off the ground and her legs off his body, bouncing her ass onto his face. Trying to smash her heavy ass down while not coming up off his head, using her fingers on the floor on either side of her for balance. She smashed her ass down onto his face again and again. Breathing hard, almost panting, she could feel her asshole crushing almost painfully against his nose, smashing her bottom down onto him, squishing the fat of her buttcheeks onto his face again and again, feeling them wrapping partway down the sides of his head. Every so often she heard a grunt escape her lips, at the effort. She heard a couple muffled cracks from underneath her, it sounded like cartilage breaking. Shortly after hearing the cracks, she stopped bouncing, as Harold continued to jerk, almost twitch, lazily and sluggishly now. He was almost certainly unconscious by this time, and nearly dead. Julie let her legs and feet drop back down to rest across his body, feeling like dead weights.
After 10 seconds without any twitches or any other movement, Julie put her feet on the floor and pried her soft sweaty ass off of Harold's face. Turning around, she took a look at his face and gasped. Trying not to think about what she was looking at, she slowly bent down and kissed him gently on his forehead. She noticed him take a couple extremely shallow breaths. Then she turned back around and quickly peeled the waist of her stretchy pants down to her knees, wet with sweat and probably blood.
"I know this is supposed to be a clothed execution, but you deserve to suffocate to death in my naked ass. You do," she said firmly. "If your wife is alive, she would want this for you," she told the unconscious old man. With that, she shakily lowered her naked bottom on tired legs and sat on his face, bringing her legs and feet back up to rest her full weight on his head. Leaning forward, she spread her very sweaty and hot asscheeks as far as she could and bounced up and back, coming down onto his nose. She felt her spread asscrack bounce down, squishing around his nose and spread out along his cheeks next to his nose, felt his bent nose mold up into her sweaty asshole hard, could feel her fleshy pussy lips mash onto his mouth, as the rest of her sweaty hot buttcheeks squished down onto his face until they wrapped down the sides of his head. She even heard a little squishing sound as her extremely warm and sweaty butt squished onto and around his face. The whole process seemed one big squish of her fleshy sweaty ass. She bounced a few times on his face, making little squish sounds as her ass engulfed the top of his head.
"You certainly can't breathe now, can you?" she giggled. "Stay unconscious for me dear and it's over," she told him, smiling down at his chest. "You can't feel me suffocate you now. Just lie there honey, while I sit on your face." She could see little beads of sweat on her thighs, could feel them running down her back, running down the back of her ass. Her entire crotch and asscrack seemed pure sweat, the contact between her asscrack and asshole against his nose and cheeks was extremely wet. She knew a little of it was blood, but the far larger part was her own sweat.
She sat there, crushing his face with her butt so he couldn't breathe. She had to keep sitting on him, her butt molded around his face, so he couldn't take a breath and wake up. Even though she was very sad at what she was doing, a part of her found it strangely funny, too. Funny and weird. She was smothering him to death by SITTING on his face. She could feel his face wedged into her hot buttcrack as she sat on it, like she would any chair. Here she was, a young pretty girl, sitting on an old man's face completely naked...suffocating him to death with her 115 pound body. With her ... her ASS ... spread out over his face, her sweaty asshole crushing his nose. Unbelievable. And a little ... hot, too. Allie WAS right. This old man was kind of lucky to die this way.
About 8 minutes later, she checked his pulse and found nothing. He was finally dead. She shivered at how easy it was to kill someone. All you really had to do was sit down. That's it. She could have read a magazine or even trimmed her nails while smothering him to death. There was zero effort involved, unless you wanted to bounce on their face or something. Of course, most people would need to be tied down first. But still, scary easy.
She lifted her sweaty ass off from around his face with a little squelch from her wet asshole and a faint moist slap as her buttcheeks slapped back together. She didn't look back at Harold's face, once had been enough. She slowly peeled her black stretch pants back up around her ass, put her flip flops back on, and headed out the door. The only thing she regretted this morning was punching and stomping on his face before she sat on it. Thinking about the little mirror Allie smuggled into her executions, Julie could think of a few items she might want to smuggle in herself.
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Julie Part 1 - Room 5C
It was the morning of Julie's first day serving her punishment at the Facility. She was taking a shower and couldn't help but thinking about yesterday's events with Allie and Ben. She still found what she watched Allie do hard to believe. That plump woman with the fat ass had sat on the midget's face. Not only that, but his whole head had been inside her butt. It had been mesmerizing, watching her crush his head like that, with him not able to breathe inside of her and thrashing frantically to get air.
And then Julie had sat on the midget's face herself, smothering him to death with her ass. She had killed him! By sitting on his face so he couldn't breathe! Allie had told her that he was lucky to be smothered to death underneath her ass, but Julie still had a hard time believing it. Sure, she might have a pretty bottom, but he had suffocated to death inside it, flailing and screaming in agony for well over 2 minutes before he passed out.
Julie was still uncertain how she was going to kill her first real patient today. None of the techniques in the information packet seemed to be even close to painless, but some of them had to be better than suffocating to death. They had to be. The Blunt Trauma method was her only other real option though.
Letting her thoughts drift closer to the back of her mind, Julie realized she had been done with her shower for some time now. Turning off the water and stepping out, she dried herself with a towel and went to her bedroom to choose an outfit. Stepping inside her closet, she looked at the clothes, thinking about what to wear. Deciding on something soft, she finally chose a pair of tight black stretchy pants that molded to her legs and ass, and a simple white tshirt with some writing on it to go over her bra. She hoped she would look un-intimidating with these on and grabbed a pair of flip flops from the floor to wear to the Facility. Finished dressing, she went back to the bathroom to dry her hair, apply her makeup, and finish the rest.
Finally done in the bathroom, she headed to the kitchen for a little breakfast before she headed out. She chose to have a frozen breakfast burrito since it was fast. Grabbing her keys and purse from an endtable in the living room on her way to the front door, she locked the door and got in her car.
Julie opened the front door of the Facility and walked in on the tiled floor. She had been dreading this moment for the last five weeks, ever since the health commitee court told her of the punishment it had decided on. They had decided to make her be a staff member at a Facility, so she could get a first-hand look at how serious the Sarapol situation was. She had already learned it was serious because of her brother, but the health commitee apparently wanted to ram it home hard.
Walking to the receptionist's desk, Julie was disappointed to see no one waiting to be helped. She wouldn't have minded killing a few more minutes standing in line. She remembered the mean-looking woman behind the desk from yesterday, Carly she thought the name was. She stepped up to the desk, the woman's eyes coming up to meet hers. Julie swallowed hard and opened her mouth to speak, but the receptionist spoke first.
"You have to be 18 years old to be a staff member girl. What are you doing here?" she asked Julie curtly.
"I ... I am a staff member. And 18." She hurriedly dug the Facility ID she had gotten yesterday out of her purse and held it out to the woman.
Carly's eyebrows rose slightly. "Julie Stevens is it? Well, Julie, let me see what I have for you this morning." The hard-eyed woman sorted through some papers on her desk until she seemed to find what she was looking for. "You have an execution this morning, a 74 year old man by the name of Harold, he's ready in room 5C. Says here he wants a clothed execution. You will have 30 minutes to kill him since it is your first time."
Julie felt her cheeks go warm at that last bit, but thanked Carly and walked away with butterflies in her belly. She found room 5C all too soon, she had remembered passing it while walking the hallways yesterday. Her brain whirring with thoughts and her stomach pounding, Julie opened the door.
She stepped in, seeing immediately that this room was identical to the one Allie had been in. Then she looked at the man, the OLD man, lying on his back in the middle of the floor. The butterflies flogging her middle turned to birds hammering away when she saw him. This man was nearly bald with only a small patch of white hair on his head. His eyebrows were solid white, and his skin was heavily wrinkled due to his long years. He seemed like a nice old man and looked fairly similar to her grandfather that was still alive in a nursing home. Could she bring herself to kill him? He was probably somebody else's grandpa. Julie shook her head, remembering that he HAD to die. He was infected, a danger to society that needed to be removed for the good of all. She sadly took off her flip flops and set them on the ground, closing the door.
"I can hear someone there," the old man suddenly said in an aged voice. "Come in closer where I can see you."
"Hi Harold, i'm Julie," she said as pleasantly as she could, walking a few more paces into the room.
"Julie huh?" the old man said, finally able to see her with his head pressed against a foam block. "You seem like a nice girl by first look at you. So you're the one that will be killing me eh?" He laughed then, a deep wheezing laugh.
Julie stared at the carpet, fidgeting. "Yes sir. I am your executioner," she said as calmly as she could. "I'm sorry."
Harold laughed again. "You don't need to be sorry girl. I've lived a long and good life."
"How would you..." Julie cleared her throat. "How would you like to die?"
Harold got a considering look on his face and Julie waited for him to tell her, more than a little anxious. Finally the old man chuckled in that deep voice of his and answered dryly, "I'm sure whatever you decide will be a good choice, girl. I'm too old to really care too much about something like that." He chuckled again, looking amused.
Julie felt disappointment and a little frightened that she would have to choose how to kill him. She tried to think of the quickest, most painless way possible, thought furiously while studying the man's body. He was still watching her.
She had decided to try a Blunt Trauma technique on her way to this room, it had to be better than suffocation. Studying Harold's body, she determined that the head was the obvious body part to target. She wasn't very strong, but maybe she could knock him out with some blows to the head. How, though? How would she give him blows to the head? She went over the Blunt Trauma techniques in her head, thinking of the best one. She finally and reluctantly whittled the options down to stomping on his face with her foot. They all seemed brutal to her, but stomping on someone's face seemed likely to be the most effective and quick.
Her mind made up, Julie slowly walked the rest of the way to Harold on the floor, those birds still flying around in her belly. She walked around close to his head and tried to smile as reassuringly as she could. Still looking at her face, he smiled up at her. Like her grandpa did.
Julie winced and suddenly raised her bare foot with purple nails and brought it down onto his mouth with a dull thud-like slap. The old man flinched as her foot connected over his mouth. It hadn't been a very hard stomp, she realized. With Harold still silently watching her, she raised her foot off of his mouth and brought it down again, harder this time. He gave a deep grunt and crinkled his eyes at the harder blow. She winced again and then made herself bring her pale slender foot up and brought it down on his mouth a third time, bringing another grunt from his lips. This was not working very well. She wasn't very strong. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Julie closed her eyes and brought her foot down as hard as she could onto Harold's mouth. She felt the bottom of her foot land very hard with a deep thud, accompanied by the crunch of teeth breaking and a loud, pained cry.
Startled by the old man's loud cry of pain, Julie opened her eyes and raised her foot from the mouth that had been warming the bottom of her foot with its quick, wheezing breath. Once she had pulled her purple-toed foot up and off to the side to see, she gave a little cringing whimper at the sight of his mouth. He had his mouth open, panting through it. She could see red blood covering some of his teeth and some more on his tongue. Two of his front teeth had been knocked out. Beyond that one cry of pain, the man had said nothing else, just breathed loudly and quickly in a steady wheeze. His eyes were tight though.
"I'm so sorry," Allie shouted at him. "Are you okay?"
Still breathing hoarsely through his mouth with a slightly scrunched up face, the man gave a soft grunt and said gruffly, "I've had worse girl." He scrunched up his face more and closed his eyes. "Get on with it honey, just get on with it."
Julie sighed sadly. Biting her lip, she moved her foot over the old man's leathery forehead. Maybe she could knock him out easier here. She brought her foot down hard on his dry forehead, bringing another deep grunt from him. She took a deep breath and started stomping, bringing her little foot down on his face above his eyes. Bringing more grunts from him, she gritted her teeth and started to stomp him as hard as she could. He started crying out loudly then, as she watched herself stomp his face. As she continued, his cries of pain got louder and louder, and higher in pitch. Not too long after that, he started screaming as her heel slammed hard into his skull. Julie jumped at each scream, each a little more intense than the one before it. The multiple screams seemed to turn into one long scream repeating itself then, as her face put on a permanent wince and she locked her jaw tight, stomping on his face as hard and fast as she could. His forehead was now dark red and he jerked his body at every blow, his eyes still shut tight and his hands clenched even tighter, his arms shaking in the leather straps each time her foot landed.
"I'm sorry!" she shouted as her foot came down hard, again and again. "I'm sorry!" she cried in a thick voice. Harold was screaming loudly, head jerking back and forth with eyes closed, face trying to brace itself against her stomps.
His screams loud in her ears, Julie realized her leg was apparently too weak to knock this durable old man out. Not quickly, anyway. With a loud cry of desperation, she quit stomping his face and stepped smoothly around him and got down, straddling his body, sitting on his chest in her black pants. His body still quivering against the restraints, his head stopped bouncing off the foam blocks and his loud screams tailed off into shorter cries through his wide-open mouth and deep pain-filled moans.
"Why are you doing this?" the old man shouted up at her, eyes still shut tight.
"I'm so sorry," she replied painfully. "I'm sorry."
His eyes opened then and looked up at her, looked into her own eyes with anguish. She wanted to cry, staring into his bright blue eyes filled with pain. Taking a shaky deep breath, she winced and punched him in the face, connected on a cheek. She saw and felt him flinch as her fist indented into his skin. Drawing her balled-up fist back from the reddened cheek, she punched him again, on the nose this time. He cried out and she pulled back again, seeing a little blood start to come out of one nostril. Taking another deep breath, she drove her fist down repeatedly onto his face, him crying out as she heard and felt each dull smack. She was punching various parts of his face, his eyes, mouth, nose, cheeks. Punching wildly, her aim poor. Harold was screaming again, shaking his head wildly back and forth, eyes closed tight, and she could feel his body twisting under her, breathing in jerky heaves. She could see blood on her knuckles now, every time her white-knuckled fist drew back behind her head. She was shaking and whimpering as she drew her fist back again and again, punching this old man in the face.
Her hand was starting to hurt, from beating it against Harold's hard face. Looking at his beaten face, she saw that she had broken his nose, it was swollen and bent roughtly 10 degrees to one side rather than straight down, and it had blood coming out of both nostrils. Both eyes had purple rings around them, and most of his face was dark red in color, one eye appearing puffy. Most of the blood on his face appeared to be from his nose, and as her fist connected with his face, over and over, it was smirching and smearing the blood. Her right hand had blood all over her knuckles now, with some smeared onto her fingers. She noticed a few spots of blood on her white shirt as well, splattered onto it somehow while she beat his bloody red face.
Still screaming, Harold managed to shout painfully up at her, his words cut off by a loud smack and a little shriek twice before she paused her bloody fist in the air.
"It hurts!" he cried loudly. "Please stop. Please!" He screamed up at her.
"Oh my God ... Oh my God ... Oh my God...," she repeated in a horrified voice, with wide-eyes, slowly rocking up and down on his chest and staring down at his bloodly, beaten face. "I'm sooo sorry!"
"No more! No more! Please! I beg you!" he yelled at her. He started coughing up blood, some of it landing on Julie's neck and the front of her shirt.
"I have to kill you," she replied sadly, her eyes getting moist. "I have to!" she shouted at him mournfully.
She got up off his chest and and stood up, slamming her foot down desperately onto his bloody face, her heel coming down on his mouth painfully, the sole of her foot slapping onto his broken, bloody nose. He screamed, a muffled sound as her heel opened his lips and came down into his opened mouth, stopping against his wet tongue. She felt his hot breath against the hard skin of her heel as she lifted it back out of his mouth, raising her foot off of his face.
Fighting the urge to cry, she quickly stepped around and faced the side of his head, moving her left foot until her toes were almost touching the side of his neck. She then started to stomp his eyes with her right foot. Her eyes moist and blurry, she brought her foot up high, thrusting her leg down hard, landing with her blood-smeared heel onto the purple puffy eye, the balls of her foot onto the other closed eye. He screamed again, a pain-filled shriek as her foot came down hard. When she lifted her foot to come down again, she could see blood in between her toes and splattered on some of her purple toenails.
Almost crying, and crying out softly in little high-pitched moans, Julie slammed her foot down onto Harold's eyes twice more and could do it no longer. Looking at her bloody foot and his bloody beaten face, she shuddered. What was she going to do?
Harold opened the eye that wasn't puffy and looked up at her in agony and terror. "Just kill me! Please, just end it!" he almost sobbed.
With blurry eyes, she stared at his open eye. "There is another way. I ... I didn't want to do it, but I don't see any other way."
Harold coughed, spitting out blood onto his chin. "What way is that?" he asked with a grimace.
Julie took a long deep breath. "If ... if I sit on your face, you won't be able to breathe. You will smother to death," she said. "In my ass," she finished quietly.
Harold's eye widened in shock. "You will sit on my face? My FACE?" he repeated incredulously.
She took another breath. "Yes. If I... If I sit on your face, you will suffocate."
Harold winced, his open eye growing tight. "There has to be another way. I've heard drowning is the worst way to die, and suffocation is just a drier version of that."
Julie slowly shook her head sadly. "I'm so sorry. I wish there was another way. I HAVE to," she finished. She turned around and straddled his chest.
"No. Please don't. Noooo!" she heard him scream desperately up at her back. She winced, trying to shut out the frantic sound of his voice. She bent over, feeling her small ass stretch the soft material of her tight black pants. She noticed she didn't have any underwear on underneath them. Ignoring the old man's hoarse, repeated shouts for her to stop, his frantic pleading, she slowly lowered her bottom down onto his face.
She heard a scream as she felt his broken nose first push into the asscrack of her stretch pants, felt his nose push the soft material up between her buttcheeks. She felt it push up until it nestled against her asshole, as she felt her buttcheeks settle onto the rest of his face, flattening out until she was sitting on it.
With him still screaming muffled screams into the material covering her pussy, she brought her feet off the floor and stretched her legs out across his body, lifting her hands off the carpet behind her and bringing them into her lap. She felt his nose crush into her asshole and her buttcheeks mold hard onto his face.
Julie, eyes still moist, her vision blurry, peeked over at the side of his head. She saw her black pants-covered ass squishing over the top of his face and down the sides of his head perhaps 3 inches. Her ass was eating his face, 115 pounds crushing down on it. He started to move his head under her, hitting the foam blocks and gently swaying her from side to side. His hands were closed in fists and he was jerking at the straps securing his arms to the floor. He was grunting into her, she could hear the muffled sounds warming her pussy through her pants.
"I know you can't breathe mister," she said hoarsely. "Please try to relax. I know your nose hurts." She cleared her throat and tried to add some sympathy to her tone. "I know I'm sitting on your face, but it will be over in a few minutes." Harold responded with a loud muffled grunt that warmed her crotch again. He started jerking harder at his bonds and twisting his feet.
After about a minute with her soft ass spread out over his face, Harold started thrashing his legs and body, twisting and sliding as far as he could on the floor. His head was still whacking against the foam blocks, making her sway slightly on top of him.
"I know you're suffocating Harold. I'm sooo sorry. I know it hurts....." She firmed her tone resolutely. "I have to sit on your face so you can't breathe. I know I'm heavy." There was nothing to do though, she couldn't get off him, couldn't let him breathe.
Close to a minute and a half after she sat on his face, he started screaming into her ass. She felt a tear roll down her cheek from one of her wet eyes. "Oh no. Oh Harold," she said sadly. "I know it hurts. I know you can't breathe. Oh honey...," she said softly. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry."
She could feel his nose and mouth under her. She could feel his whole face as she sat on it, could feel part of his face wedged up into her asscrack, molding her stretchy pants tight up into her asscrack like a second skin. She could feel her warm nylony buttcheeks molding heavily over the rest of his face and part of his head, as they squished down on top of him. She knew he couldn't breathe, knew he needed air badly, his lungs burning and his brain on fire.
"Oh no... Oh, you poor thing...," she said sadly, quietly, feeling his body thrash under hers, thrash violently, with his arms jerking against the leather straps, his fingers clawing the carpet. She wanted to cry, she felt for him so bad. She leaned forward slowly, careful not to let him breathe under her ass squishing down on his face. She reached towards his right arm strap, the arm secured by it jerking and twisting wildly. She undid the strap binding it and grabbed the arm, jerking in her hands. She slipped her hands down his arm until she grabbed his hand with both of hers and brought his twisting arm by the hand back until she could secure it across her leg, squeezing his hand onto her thigh with both hands.
"Try to relax honey. I know it hurts," she cooed softly to him. His hand clawed and gripped at her leg in a panic, trying to get hold of something, anything. She wrapped both hands around his fighting hand, squeezing it and pressing it into her thigh. "You're doing very good. I know you're suffocating. I know," she cooed softly again. "Let me hold your hand."
The old man was shrieking into her ass now, loud panicked shrieks of pain and terror. His whole body was violently thrashing on the floor as she remained sitting on him, her now hot and sweaty butt molded down over his face, crushing his head into the carpet.
She started stroking his hand, as much as she was able to, feeling his fingers grip against her leg. "Shh. It will all be over soon," she whispered to him. She started to bounce on him then, little bounces that brought more weight down onto his face. She rolled her hips a little as she came down, massaging her small bottom into and around his face, squishing her fleshy asscheeks into his face and over the side of his head, massaged her asshole hard onto his broken nose inside her asscrack, molded her asscrack down around his nose.
"Go to sleep honey," she said softly. "Suffocate in my bottom," she purred gently, bouncing gently on his face. She struggled his hand fighting against both of hers, struggled it into a fist and brought it up so she could kiss it. "Try to relax. Not much longer baby," she said with as much sympathy as she could.
She brought his wild hand back down to her thigh and stroked it. He was going berserk now, after more than 2 minutes with her sitting on his face. She kept bouncing, massaging her small cute bottom onto and over his face. She didn't know if she was supposed to, but she stopped bouncing and moved her right foot slowly, careful not to let Harold breathe, until she had slid the sole of her foot onto his now hard cock. She could see it pushing up into his gauzy blue pants. Her foot still had blood on the bottom of it, with some drying blood still on her toes. This was a clothed execution, so she couldn't pull his pants down, even if she could sit up off his face. He was screaming muffled shrieks into her sweaty ass, going absolutely crazy in his restraints. She thought she could almost get dizzy from his shaking head swaying her slightly back and forth rapidly. Pressing her foot down onto his hard cock, she rubbed it up and down, from her toes curled down pressing into his shaft, to the start of her heel. Mainly it was just her finely wrinkled sole pushing down on his cock, rubbing up and down. She could feel her thigh in its tight stretchy casing lifting up off his cheek and pressing back down onto it. His shrieking was very muffled, but it vibrated her pussy as she stroked him with her bloody foot.
Suddenly, her eyes widened as her bowels shifted and she could feel a pocket of gas build up inside her, instantly wanting to come out. She needed to fart but she couldn't get up off his face either. Since there was no other way, Julie ever so slightly squirmed until she felt his broken nose unsquash slightly from her asshole, one buttcheek a hair higher than the other. Having to push hard around his nose, she finally managed to fart, a loud and muffled escape of gas that vibrated. Blushing, she settled back down onto his face, her asshole once again crushing his nose.
"Sorry about that," she spoke down at him. Then giggled as the smell of the fart hit her own nose. It was the last thing he was ever going to smell. This morning's breakfast burrito. She blushed even harder thinking about that.
She continued to stroke his hand, fighting more weakly. She knew he was starting to suffocate to death now. He could no longer think. She knew all he felt was a very heavy weight on his face, his lungs were in agony, and his brain felt like it was going to explode. She hoped he could feel her foot rubbing his cock, but she didn't think he did.
"Maybe half a minute until you pass out dear," she said gently. "I know you can't hear me and I know it hurts. You'll be asleep soon, I promise." She patted his hand and removed her foot from his cock, moving it back next to his leg. She figured it was pointless now. She didn't know if he had cum in his pants, but she hoped so. She continued to sit.
Around half a minute later, Harold looking to be jerking mostly involuntarily, she thought it was an even chance whether he was conscious or not. He was no longer shrieking. She started bouncing on his face again, more heavily this time, lifting her feet off the ground and her legs off his body, bouncing her ass onto his face. Trying to smash her heavy ass down while not coming up off his head, using her fingers on the floor on either side of her for balance. She smashed her ass down onto his face again and again. Breathing hard, almost panting, she could feel her asshole crushing almost painfully against his nose, smashing her bottom down onto him, squishing the fat of her buttcheeks onto his face again and again, feeling them wrapping partway down the sides of his head. Every so often she heard a grunt escape her lips, at the effort. She heard a couple muffled cracks from underneath her, it sounded like cartilage breaking. Shortly after hearing the cracks, she stopped bouncing, as Harold continued to jerk, almost twitch, lazily and sluggishly now. He was almost certainly unconscious by this time, and nearly dead. Julie let her legs and feet drop back down to rest across his body, feeling like dead weights.
After 10 seconds without any twitches or any other movement, Julie put her feet on the floor and pried her soft sweaty ass off of Harold's face. Turning around, she took a look at his face and gasped. Trying not to think about what she was looking at, she slowly bent down and kissed him gently on his forehead. She noticed him take a couple extremely shallow breaths. Then she turned back around and quickly peeled the waist of her stretchy pants down to her knees, wet with sweat and probably blood.
"I know this is supposed to be a clothed execution, but you deserve to suffocate to death in my naked ass. You do," she said firmly. "If your wife is alive, she would want this for you," she told the unconscious old man. With that, she shakily lowered her naked bottom on tired legs and sat on his face, bringing her legs and feet back up to rest her full weight on his head. Leaning forward, she spread her very sweaty and hot asscheeks as far as she could and bounced up and back, coming down onto his nose. She felt her spread asscrack bounce down, squishing around his nose and spread out along his cheeks next to his nose, felt his bent nose mold up into her sweaty asshole hard, could feel her fleshy pussy lips mash onto his mouth, as the rest of her sweaty hot buttcheeks squished down onto his face until they wrapped down the sides of his head. She even heard a little squishing sound as her extremely warm and sweaty butt squished onto and around his face. The whole process seemed one big squish of her fleshy sweaty ass. She bounced a few times on his face, making little squish sounds as her ass engulfed the top of his head.
"You certainly can't breathe now, can you?" she giggled. "Stay unconscious for me dear and it's over," she told him, smiling down at his chest. "You can't feel me suffocate you now. Just lie there honey, while I sit on your face." She could see little beads of sweat on her thighs, could feel them running down her back, running down the back of her ass. Her entire crotch and asscrack seemed pure sweat, the contact between her asscrack and asshole against his nose and cheeks was extremely wet. She knew a little of it was blood, but the far larger part was her own sweat.
She sat there, crushing his face with her butt so he couldn't breathe. She had to keep sitting on him, her butt molded around his face, so he couldn't take a breath and wake up. Even though she was very sad at what she was doing, a part of her found it strangely funny, too. Funny and weird. She was smothering him to death by SITTING on his face. She could feel his face wedged into her hot buttcrack as she sat on it, like she would any chair. Here she was, a young pretty girl, sitting on an old man's face completely naked...suffocating him to death with her 115 pound body. With her ... her ASS ... spread out over his face, her sweaty asshole crushing his nose. Unbelievable. And a little ... hot, too. Allie WAS right. This old man was kind of lucky to die this way.
About 8 minutes later, she checked his pulse and found nothing. He was finally dead. She shivered at how easy it was to kill someone. All you really had to do was sit down. That's it. She could have read a magazine or even trimmed her nails while smothering him to death. There was zero effort involved, unless you wanted to bounce on their face or something. Of course, most people would need to be tied down first. But still, scary easy.
She lifted her sweaty ass off from around his face with a little squelch from her wet asshole and a faint moist slap as her buttcheeks slapped back together. She didn't look back at Harold's face, once had been enough. She slowly peeled her black stretch pants back up around her ass, put her flip flops back on, and headed out the door. The only thing she regretted this morning was punching and stomping on his face before she sat on it. Thinking about the little mirror Allie smuggled into her executions, Julie could think of a few items she might want to smuggle in herself.