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- Nov 2, 2001
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The Execution
Prologue:
Dawn Rambin had just exited “The Keg” a local club happily tipsy as she waited for her cab, ironic since she had just lost her son and her husband was in a coma from a mysterious illness-not the typical appearance of a grieving wife and mother. She’d just collected half-a-million dollars on her son’s death, and celebration did not seem as appropriate behavior as both the local sheriff’s office and the insurance company had observed. Suddenly, as her cab arrived, four unmarked cars pulled up and surrounded her.
Uniformed and un-uniformed deputies jumped from the cars, grabbed her and snapped handcuffs on her has she cursed them in surprise and anger. “Mrs. Rambin, I am Detective John Davis of the Desoto County Sheriff’s office, and you are under arrest for murder and attempted murder…”.
Dawn Rambin sat in the defendant’s dock beside her lawyer as the jury filed into the courtroom. Confident she would be acquitted, she smirked as she had all through her trial for poisoning her son, David, Jr. and husband to collect a one-million-dollar life insurance policy. Her now ex-husband, though badly sickened, had survived. Her 12-year-old son, adored by his father, had not.
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” asked Judge Harold Bice . “We have your honor.” Replied the foreman of the jury, handing the verdict to the judge and looking angrily at Dawn, then with sympathy at David, her ex, who sat at the prosecution’s bench as a sickly, broken man. The judge read the verdict, then handed it back to the foreman. For the first time during the trial, Dawn lost her smirk.
“The defendant will rise , Ms. Foreman, will you please read the verdict?” Said the judge, looking gravely at Dawn as she and her lawyer rose from their seats. “. “With tears streaming from her eyes, the foreman read the verdict in a loud, clear voice. “We the jury, find the defendant, Dawn Evilyn Rambin, guilty as charged of the counts of aggravated attempted murder of her husband David Wayne Rambin, and aggravated first degree murder of her son, David Wayne Rambin, Jr., so say we all!”. With that final statement, there would be no poll of jurors. Dawn’s parents began to scream and moan and women from a local militant feminist group began to shout and curse the jury as the courtroom burst into an uproar. Dawn slumped and her ex-husband, sobbing, embraced the prosecuting attorney, John Doolittle . “Order! Order!, I will have any further persons causing a disturbance ejected!” roared the judge as he slammed his gavel down again and again.
“The Defendant will now hearken before this court to hear its judgement.”. Dawn and her attorney came forward to face the judge and were immediately flanked by two deputies who began the process of chaining the convicted murderess hand and foot. Maintaining that same grave expression, the Judge solemnly intoned: “Know ye, Dawn Evilyn Rambin that I, Judge Harold Bice of the state of Arklahoma, by virtue of the findings of a jury of your peers by unanimous decision, do hereby sentence you to the following: Life in prison on the first specification, and that you be put to death according to the laws of this state on the second specification. May God have mercy on your soul . You will never see the light of day as a free woman again so long as you live! You, by your wicked ways have destroyed two lives, that of the poor, pitiful shell of a man sitting over there as well as that of his beloved son. This is a fair sentence, this is a just sentence, and now your life will be destroyed as you so willingly destroyed those other two lives. May you spend your remaining days in pleas to God for forgiveness! Deputies, remove the prisoner!”. Dawn was led away to the county jail cell she had occupied since her arrest. What had went wrong? She’d covered everything! How did she give herself away? “File an appeal!” she screamed at her attorney. David Rambin again embraced the prosecutor and then Detective Davis. “I want to be there when it happens!” said David. Deputy Davis smiled grimly and said “You will be, I will too, and so will the prosecuter, David!”. John Doolittle nodded, solemnly.
Five years went by as appeals were filed and appeals were rejected in the Local, Superior, and State supreme courts. Then came the Federal Appeals and Supreme Courts.
Just when it looked like Dawn would meet her date with the hangman, her lawyer succeeded in convincing the liberal 9th Circuit Federal Appeals Court in California that hanging a woman was cruel and unusual punishment and stayed her execution date. Then something really weird happened. The Arklahoma state legislature passed a bill changing their method of execution for women from death by hanging to death by tickling! After a flurry of appeals, all rejected by even the 9th Circuit Court, the Arklahoma governor signed the death warrant for Dawn Evilyn Rambin.
Warden Robert Wayland at the Dry Prong State Reformatory For Women was nervous. This was a whole new ballgame for him. The prison had received a hastily-prepared protocol for execution and his staff had gone through several dry runs using a female guard as the condemned, but not actually doing the tickling part. Two female guards would perform this task, one for each of the condemned’s feet until she had been tickled to death. Though dying laughing did not seem like a bad way to go, the warden was worried about anything going wrong-at least hanging was certain, this new method was not! Dawn Rambin had been moved to the holding cell next to the execution chamber and where she would spend her final 24 hours in this world.
Dawn sat in the holding cell next to the state’s execution chamber. “Tickling? Death by TICKLING? They’ve GOT to be kidding!” she thought. She hated being tickled, but there was no way that it would KILL her! She slouched on her cell bunk. “Stupid bastards!” she thought. Once again, the smirk that adorned her during the trial crossed her face as she finally drifted off to sleep.
Once again, Warden Wayland and his staff nervously conducted a final dry run of the execution procedure. After her last meal and final visit with her attorney, the condemned would be taken to the shower area, strip-searched and showered. Then, she would be issued with an orange prison uniform emblazoned with C229081883, her prison number. The “C” designating “condemned”. She would wear no undergarments, socks, or shoes to facilitate undressing her by the coroner and delivery to the undertaker after death was pronounced. She would then be escorted in handcuffs and ankle chains to the execution chamber. There, she would be unfettered and then strapped into a gynecological-style chair with leg-rests-her bare feet up in the air. After giving her final statement, and the go-ahead from the governor by absence of a phone call to stay or commute her sentence, two male guards would tie prepared morgue identification tags to each of her big toes, then two female guards would proceed with the execution after the sheriff’s representative of the county she had been convicted in had stated that all was ready. After the pronouncement of death, the body would be stripped, wrapped in a sheet with just the bare feet and toe tags showing, and placed on a gurney to await the arrival of the undertaker. The protocol prescribed tickling devises of increasing intensity on the bare feet until the condemned died laughing in the following order: fingers, tongues, feather quills, toothbrushes, and hairbrushes, then repeat the process with the condemned’s bare feet being lubricated with salad oil. Two female guards that were known to be lesbians were recruited for the job, and though they awaited their task with relish, they agreed to perform their task in a professional manner.
August 13, 2007, 11:30 P.M. . Dawn Rambin, flanked by six guards, padded with bare feet in her orange jumpsuit wearing chains toward the execution chamber, complaining about the cold concrete floor as the prison chaplain walked beside her, mumbling prayers for her soul. “ The cold floor won’t last long, and I suggest you relax and enjoy it when you’re in the chair, that way you’ll die happy!” said one of the female executioner-guards as she led Dawn on. Dawn cursed her as she walked. They entered the execution chamber. On one side of the brightly-lit room stood the warden, coronor, and the county representative, Detective Deputy John Davis of the Desoto County Sheriff’s Office, standing by a red telephone-the hotline that if it rang, gave Dawn life, but behind bars. On the other side in rows of chairs sat the witnesses. In the first row sat Desoto County Prosecuting Attorney John Doolittle. Beside him sat her ex-husband, David. Five years had allowed him to regain most of his health, he looked so much stronger. She gasped as he smiled at her-the chilling smile of one who would finally receive justice-for him and his son! Once again, Dawn felt her confidence drain from her.
The chair. The straps. The chaplain continued to mumble prayers. The warden read the execution warrant. “Dawn Evilyn Rambin, you have been convicted by a jury of your peers of the heinous crime of Aggravated Murder In The First Degree and have been sentenced to death by tickling, according to the laws of the State Of Arklahoma. Do you have any final statement before the sentence is carried out?” Defiant, her bare feet dangling from the end of the leg rests, Dawn said “This is stupid! You think that tickling will kill me? Jeez! You are IDIOTS!”. She smirked and waved her bare feet and wiggled her toes at the witnesses. 11:59 P.M. . With that, the warden nodded. The guards tied the toe-tags to her big toes. Dawn, seeing the toe-tags, began to tremble-maybe she was wrong about this after all! The lesbian female guards took their place beside each of Dawn’s feet. 12:00 A.M. , August 14, 2007. Deputy Davis looked down at the red phone. No call. In a low, but clear voice, he stated: “Warden, we are ready.” In horror, Dawn looked at Deputy Davis, then her ex-husband David. David smiled again, that sweet-but-chilling smile as he held up a large picture of their son-his son, David Jr. to his chest. Davie also smiled in his portrait at her. David wanted that picture to be the last thing she ever saw, her time of reckoning had come!
Warden Wayland made a cutting motion across his throat. The execution of Dawn Rambin began:
The female guards began to caress Dawn’s bare arches, then stroked under her toes where they joined each foot. Dawn clenched her teeth, then squeezed her eyes shut. Finally, it was too much. Her face relaxed, and the corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. Then her teeth began to show as it turned into a grin. A snicker escaped her lips, then a giggle, and finally a laugh. “HEE! HEE-HEE! HA! HA-HA-HA-HA!” They made slow circles on the balls of her feet and tickled her naked toes and toe pads. Dawn screamed. “AH! AH! AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA!”
Fingers danced up and down Dawn’s bare soles. “EEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!
NYAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA! The female guards now began to lick the soles of Dawn’s bare feet, making slurping noises as they tongued her naked arches and soles. “HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE-HUH-HUH-HUH-HUH-HUH-HUH! AAAAAAA-
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!” They licked from heel up the soles to the toes, and this obviously tickled worse than their fingers. They sawed their tongues between each of Dawn’s naked toes, making her giggle harder. “HOO-HOO! HOOOO-HOO-HOO-HOO!
NYAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!” Dawn began to sweat, beads of perspiration formed on her forehead and stained the armpits of her prison uniform as she struggled against the straps restraining her in the chair. The tickling sensations in her feet were too much! “AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!”
Now the guards switched to the feather quills, concentrating on the arches and balls of the feet. “SQUEEEEEAAAAALLLLLL! EEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEE!”
She rocked back and forth in the chair as the quills assaulted her bare soles. “HOO-HOO!
HOO-HOO-HOO-HOO-HOO! AHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!”
She howled with laughter, slapping her hands against the side of the chair. Her bladder relaxed and she wet herself, the crotch of her prison uniform was now stained with urine as it soaked her butt and dribbled down her legs, but she was too busy laughing to be embarrassed. Her head and ribs began to hurt from laughter, her jaws ached from smiling, and it was getting hard to breathe, but she giggled and laughed uncontrollably as the guards continued tickling her bare feet relentlessly. “HUH-HUH-HUH-HUH-HUH-HUH!” “EEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEENYAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!”
The guards switched to the toothbrushes. Scrubbing the soles and toes of her bare feet.
“SHRIEEEEK! NYAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAYEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!”.
Tears of laughter rolled down Dawn’s cheeks, dripping onto her prison shirt. “EEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEESQUEEEAAAALLLLL! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!”
Around the balls of her bare feet, up and down her arches and underneath her naked toes they scrubbed with the toothbrushes “EEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEEE!”
Dawn orgasmed in her prison pants, her pussy juices blending with the huge urine stain on the crotch and legs of them. Finally the guards shifted to soft bristle hair brushes, continuing to tickle her bare feet. With a final squeal and high-pitched giggle, squeaking, wheezing and gasping for breath, Dawn began to convulse with silent laughter. The only way the witnesses could tell that she was still being tickled was the smile on her face and her shaking body, for the only sounds coming from her now were wheezing, hiccups, and gasps for breath. Her smiling lips turned blue, and a deathly pallor colored her face. Finally, she slumped against the straps, eyes closed, unmoving, but still grinning broadly. The guards continued tickling the feet of her silent body for another five minutes until the odor of feces indicated that her anus had relaxed, then they stopped. The coroner stepped forward and listened to her chest with his stethoscope. No breathing or heartbeat was heard. He pulled up each eyelid, then closed them as both pupils were fixed and dilated. Turning to the witnesses, he solemly intoned: “I pronounce this woman-dead!” Dawn Evilyn Rambin had stepped barefoot through the door of eternity.
The witnesses filed somberly from the execution chamber all save one. David Rambin smiled up at heaven as he left and quietly whispered, “Rest in peace Davie. I’ll always love you, son!”. Unstrapped from the execution chair and placed on a gurney, Dawn’s clothes were cut from her body. She was washed, shrouded in a sheet, and placed on another gurney, her pale-white naked feet the only thing exposed, to await the arrival of the hearse.
Cordell Traynor, the undertaker, was putting the final finishes on Dawn Rambin’s body before wheeling her casket into the viewing parlor. She was dressed in a pink burial gown that stopped just above her ankles. Her toenails were painted pink as well, contrasting with her pale bare feet. The paper prison toe tags she had worn during her execution had been removed and she wore one imprinted plastic tag attached by a small chain to her right big toe. This was the main reason undertakers preferred two-piece casket lids, for it was a regular funeral home practice to dress the dead but leave them barefoot-avoiding the struggle of putting shoes, socks or pantyhose on rigor-mortis-stiffened feet and ankles. Any footwear or coverings provided by surviving family were quietly discarded in the dumpster. He closed the bottom half of the casket lid-only he knew that the deceased was being buried with bare feet. He’d had quite a struggle getting her jaws closed, but once he’d put the staples in her gums, wired her mouth shut and glued her lips together, the grin she’d worn on the embalming table now remained as a lovely smile. A touch of pink lipstick to her smiling lips, and Dawn Rambin was wheeled into the parlor, prepared to bid the living world farewell by grieving friends and relatives.
Epilogue:
Darkness. Screams of laughter. High-pitched female laughter. Was it all a dream? Dawn opened her eyes. She looked around. She was still in the execution chamber, sitting strapped in the gyno-style execution chair. She looked at her bare feet and saw she still wore the prison uniform. But there were no witnesses, no warden. Had she survived the execution? What was going on? “Welcome to hell, Dawn Evilyn Rambin!”. She started at the strange voice. Hell? Whose voice was that? Into the room stepped a man in an elegant dark suit. He wore a mustache and goatee. A short pair of horns protruded from his forehead and if not for those, Dawn would have considered him handsome. Her eyes widened in fear. “Are-are you the devil?” she stammered. The stranger smiled, a pointy-toothed smile. “Verrrry good, Dawn!” he said, drawing out the word “Very”. “Welcome to the section of hell reserved especially for females.”. Dawn shivered. “I must say that I was quite impressed with your execution. So impressed that I decided to adopt eternal tickling as punishment for all females sent here!”. That explained the female laughter she heard coming from all directions! Dawn screamed. The devil smiled. He spoke again. “And now, Dawn Rambin, I am pleased to introduce you to the demons that will torment you-forever!”. Two demons stepped forward, grinning. They looked just like her ex-husband and dead son, but they were not them-their faces merely a constant reminder to her of what she had done to come here! They rushed to her bare feet and began to lick her naked soles. Dawn screamed again. Grinning, giggling and urinating, Dawn Evilyn Rambin began her eternal tickle torment.
Prologue:
Dawn Rambin had just exited “The Keg” a local club happily tipsy as she waited for her cab, ironic since she had just lost her son and her husband was in a coma from a mysterious illness-not the typical appearance of a grieving wife and mother. She’d just collected half-a-million dollars on her son’s death, and celebration did not seem as appropriate behavior as both the local sheriff’s office and the insurance company had observed. Suddenly, as her cab arrived, four unmarked cars pulled up and surrounded her.
Uniformed and un-uniformed deputies jumped from the cars, grabbed her and snapped handcuffs on her has she cursed them in surprise and anger. “Mrs. Rambin, I am Detective John Davis of the Desoto County Sheriff’s office, and you are under arrest for murder and attempted murder…”.
Dawn Rambin sat in the defendant’s dock beside her lawyer as the jury filed into the courtroom. Confident she would be acquitted, she smirked as she had all through her trial for poisoning her son, David, Jr. and husband to collect a one-million-dollar life insurance policy. Her now ex-husband, though badly sickened, had survived. Her 12-year-old son, adored by his father, had not.
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” asked Judge Harold Bice . “We have your honor.” Replied the foreman of the jury, handing the verdict to the judge and looking angrily at Dawn, then with sympathy at David, her ex, who sat at the prosecution’s bench as a sickly, broken man. The judge read the verdict, then handed it back to the foreman. For the first time during the trial, Dawn lost her smirk.
“The defendant will rise , Ms. Foreman, will you please read the verdict?” Said the judge, looking gravely at Dawn as she and her lawyer rose from their seats. “. “With tears streaming from her eyes, the foreman read the verdict in a loud, clear voice. “We the jury, find the defendant, Dawn Evilyn Rambin, guilty as charged of the counts of aggravated attempted murder of her husband David Wayne Rambin, and aggravated first degree murder of her son, David Wayne Rambin, Jr., so say we all!”. With that final statement, there would be no poll of jurors. Dawn’s parents began to scream and moan and women from a local militant feminist group began to shout and curse the jury as the courtroom burst into an uproar. Dawn slumped and her ex-husband, sobbing, embraced the prosecuting attorney, John Doolittle . “Order! Order!, I will have any further persons causing a disturbance ejected!” roared the judge as he slammed his gavel down again and again.
“The Defendant will now hearken before this court to hear its judgement.”. Dawn and her attorney came forward to face the judge and were immediately flanked by two deputies who began the process of chaining the convicted murderess hand and foot. Maintaining that same grave expression, the Judge solemnly intoned: “Know ye, Dawn Evilyn Rambin that I, Judge Harold Bice of the state of Arklahoma, by virtue of the findings of a jury of your peers by unanimous decision, do hereby sentence you to the following: Life in prison on the first specification, and that you be put to death according to the laws of this state on the second specification. May God have mercy on your soul . You will never see the light of day as a free woman again so long as you live! You, by your wicked ways have destroyed two lives, that of the poor, pitiful shell of a man sitting over there as well as that of his beloved son. This is a fair sentence, this is a just sentence, and now your life will be destroyed as you so willingly destroyed those other two lives. May you spend your remaining days in pleas to God for forgiveness! Deputies, remove the prisoner!”. Dawn was led away to the county jail cell she had occupied since her arrest. What had went wrong? She’d covered everything! How did she give herself away? “File an appeal!” she screamed at her attorney. David Rambin again embraced the prosecutor and then Detective Davis. “I want to be there when it happens!” said David. Deputy Davis smiled grimly and said “You will be, I will too, and so will the prosecuter, David!”. John Doolittle nodded, solemnly.
Five years went by as appeals were filed and appeals were rejected in the Local, Superior, and State supreme courts. Then came the Federal Appeals and Supreme Courts.
Just when it looked like Dawn would meet her date with the hangman, her lawyer succeeded in convincing the liberal 9th Circuit Federal Appeals Court in California that hanging a woman was cruel and unusual punishment and stayed her execution date. Then something really weird happened. The Arklahoma state legislature passed a bill changing their method of execution for women from death by hanging to death by tickling! After a flurry of appeals, all rejected by even the 9th Circuit Court, the Arklahoma governor signed the death warrant for Dawn Evilyn Rambin.
Warden Robert Wayland at the Dry Prong State Reformatory For Women was nervous. This was a whole new ballgame for him. The prison had received a hastily-prepared protocol for execution and his staff had gone through several dry runs using a female guard as the condemned, but not actually doing the tickling part. Two female guards would perform this task, one for each of the condemned’s feet until she had been tickled to death. Though dying laughing did not seem like a bad way to go, the warden was worried about anything going wrong-at least hanging was certain, this new method was not! Dawn Rambin had been moved to the holding cell next to the execution chamber and where she would spend her final 24 hours in this world.
Dawn sat in the holding cell next to the state’s execution chamber. “Tickling? Death by TICKLING? They’ve GOT to be kidding!” she thought. She hated being tickled, but there was no way that it would KILL her! She slouched on her cell bunk. “Stupid bastards!” she thought. Once again, the smirk that adorned her during the trial crossed her face as she finally drifted off to sleep.
Once again, Warden Wayland and his staff nervously conducted a final dry run of the execution procedure. After her last meal and final visit with her attorney, the condemned would be taken to the shower area, strip-searched and showered. Then, she would be issued with an orange prison uniform emblazoned with C229081883, her prison number. The “C” designating “condemned”. She would wear no undergarments, socks, or shoes to facilitate undressing her by the coroner and delivery to the undertaker after death was pronounced. She would then be escorted in handcuffs and ankle chains to the execution chamber. There, she would be unfettered and then strapped into a gynecological-style chair with leg-rests-her bare feet up in the air. After giving her final statement, and the go-ahead from the governor by absence of a phone call to stay or commute her sentence, two male guards would tie prepared morgue identification tags to each of her big toes, then two female guards would proceed with the execution after the sheriff’s representative of the county she had been convicted in had stated that all was ready. After the pronouncement of death, the body would be stripped, wrapped in a sheet with just the bare feet and toe tags showing, and placed on a gurney to await the arrival of the undertaker. The protocol prescribed tickling devises of increasing intensity on the bare feet until the condemned died laughing in the following order: fingers, tongues, feather quills, toothbrushes, and hairbrushes, then repeat the process with the condemned’s bare feet being lubricated with salad oil. Two female guards that were known to be lesbians were recruited for the job, and though they awaited their task with relish, they agreed to perform their task in a professional manner.
August 13, 2007, 11:30 P.M. . Dawn Rambin, flanked by six guards, padded with bare feet in her orange jumpsuit wearing chains toward the execution chamber, complaining about the cold concrete floor as the prison chaplain walked beside her, mumbling prayers for her soul. “ The cold floor won’t last long, and I suggest you relax and enjoy it when you’re in the chair, that way you’ll die happy!” said one of the female executioner-guards as she led Dawn on. Dawn cursed her as she walked. They entered the execution chamber. On one side of the brightly-lit room stood the warden, coronor, and the county representative, Detective Deputy John Davis of the Desoto County Sheriff’s Office, standing by a red telephone-the hotline that if it rang, gave Dawn life, but behind bars. On the other side in rows of chairs sat the witnesses. In the first row sat Desoto County Prosecuting Attorney John Doolittle. Beside him sat her ex-husband, David. Five years had allowed him to regain most of his health, he looked so much stronger. She gasped as he smiled at her-the chilling smile of one who would finally receive justice-for him and his son! Once again, Dawn felt her confidence drain from her.
The chair. The straps. The chaplain continued to mumble prayers. The warden read the execution warrant. “Dawn Evilyn Rambin, you have been convicted by a jury of your peers of the heinous crime of Aggravated Murder In The First Degree and have been sentenced to death by tickling, according to the laws of the State Of Arklahoma. Do you have any final statement before the sentence is carried out?” Defiant, her bare feet dangling from the end of the leg rests, Dawn said “This is stupid! You think that tickling will kill me? Jeez! You are IDIOTS!”. She smirked and waved her bare feet and wiggled her toes at the witnesses. 11:59 P.M. . With that, the warden nodded. The guards tied the toe-tags to her big toes. Dawn, seeing the toe-tags, began to tremble-maybe she was wrong about this after all! The lesbian female guards took their place beside each of Dawn’s feet. 12:00 A.M. , August 14, 2007. Deputy Davis looked down at the red phone. No call. In a low, but clear voice, he stated: “Warden, we are ready.” In horror, Dawn looked at Deputy Davis, then her ex-husband David. David smiled again, that sweet-but-chilling smile as he held up a large picture of their son-his son, David Jr. to his chest. Davie also smiled in his portrait at her. David wanted that picture to be the last thing she ever saw, her time of reckoning had come!
Warden Wayland made a cutting motion across his throat. The execution of Dawn Rambin began:
The female guards began to caress Dawn’s bare arches, then stroked under her toes where they joined each foot. Dawn clenched her teeth, then squeezed her eyes shut. Finally, it was too much. Her face relaxed, and the corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. Then her teeth began to show as it turned into a grin. A snicker escaped her lips, then a giggle, and finally a laugh. “HEE! HEE-HEE! HA! HA-HA-HA-HA!” They made slow circles on the balls of her feet and tickled her naked toes and toe pads. Dawn screamed. “AH! AH! AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA!”
Fingers danced up and down Dawn’s bare soles. “EEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!
NYAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA! The female guards now began to lick the soles of Dawn’s bare feet, making slurping noises as they tongued her naked arches and soles. “HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE-HUH-HUH-HUH-HUH-HUH-HUH! AAAAAAA-
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!” They licked from heel up the soles to the toes, and this obviously tickled worse than their fingers. They sawed their tongues between each of Dawn’s naked toes, making her giggle harder. “HOO-HOO! HOOOO-HOO-HOO-HOO!
NYAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!” Dawn began to sweat, beads of perspiration formed on her forehead and stained the armpits of her prison uniform as she struggled against the straps restraining her in the chair. The tickling sensations in her feet were too much! “AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!”
Now the guards switched to the feather quills, concentrating on the arches and balls of the feet. “SQUEEEEEAAAAALLLLLL! EEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEE!”
She rocked back and forth in the chair as the quills assaulted her bare soles. “HOO-HOO!
HOO-HOO-HOO-HOO-HOO! AHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!”
She howled with laughter, slapping her hands against the side of the chair. Her bladder relaxed and she wet herself, the crotch of her prison uniform was now stained with urine as it soaked her butt and dribbled down her legs, but she was too busy laughing to be embarrassed. Her head and ribs began to hurt from laughter, her jaws ached from smiling, and it was getting hard to breathe, but she giggled and laughed uncontrollably as the guards continued tickling her bare feet relentlessly. “HUH-HUH-HUH-HUH-HUH-HUH!” “EEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEENYAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!”
The guards switched to the toothbrushes. Scrubbing the soles and toes of her bare feet.
“SHRIEEEEK! NYAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAYEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!”.
Tears of laughter rolled down Dawn’s cheeks, dripping onto her prison shirt. “EEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEESQUEEEAAAALLLLL! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!”
Around the balls of her bare feet, up and down her arches and underneath her naked toes they scrubbed with the toothbrushes “EEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEEE!”
Dawn orgasmed in her prison pants, her pussy juices blending with the huge urine stain on the crotch and legs of them. Finally the guards shifted to soft bristle hair brushes, continuing to tickle her bare feet. With a final squeal and high-pitched giggle, squeaking, wheezing and gasping for breath, Dawn began to convulse with silent laughter. The only way the witnesses could tell that she was still being tickled was the smile on her face and her shaking body, for the only sounds coming from her now were wheezing, hiccups, and gasps for breath. Her smiling lips turned blue, and a deathly pallor colored her face. Finally, she slumped against the straps, eyes closed, unmoving, but still grinning broadly. The guards continued tickling the feet of her silent body for another five minutes until the odor of feces indicated that her anus had relaxed, then they stopped. The coroner stepped forward and listened to her chest with his stethoscope. No breathing or heartbeat was heard. He pulled up each eyelid, then closed them as both pupils were fixed and dilated. Turning to the witnesses, he solemly intoned: “I pronounce this woman-dead!” Dawn Evilyn Rambin had stepped barefoot through the door of eternity.
The witnesses filed somberly from the execution chamber all save one. David Rambin smiled up at heaven as he left and quietly whispered, “Rest in peace Davie. I’ll always love you, son!”. Unstrapped from the execution chair and placed on a gurney, Dawn’s clothes were cut from her body. She was washed, shrouded in a sheet, and placed on another gurney, her pale-white naked feet the only thing exposed, to await the arrival of the hearse.
Cordell Traynor, the undertaker, was putting the final finishes on Dawn Rambin’s body before wheeling her casket into the viewing parlor. She was dressed in a pink burial gown that stopped just above her ankles. Her toenails were painted pink as well, contrasting with her pale bare feet. The paper prison toe tags she had worn during her execution had been removed and she wore one imprinted plastic tag attached by a small chain to her right big toe. This was the main reason undertakers preferred two-piece casket lids, for it was a regular funeral home practice to dress the dead but leave them barefoot-avoiding the struggle of putting shoes, socks or pantyhose on rigor-mortis-stiffened feet and ankles. Any footwear or coverings provided by surviving family were quietly discarded in the dumpster. He closed the bottom half of the casket lid-only he knew that the deceased was being buried with bare feet. He’d had quite a struggle getting her jaws closed, but once he’d put the staples in her gums, wired her mouth shut and glued her lips together, the grin she’d worn on the embalming table now remained as a lovely smile. A touch of pink lipstick to her smiling lips, and Dawn Rambin was wheeled into the parlor, prepared to bid the living world farewell by grieving friends and relatives.
Epilogue:
Darkness. Screams of laughter. High-pitched female laughter. Was it all a dream? Dawn opened her eyes. She looked around. She was still in the execution chamber, sitting strapped in the gyno-style execution chair. She looked at her bare feet and saw she still wore the prison uniform. But there were no witnesses, no warden. Had she survived the execution? What was going on? “Welcome to hell, Dawn Evilyn Rambin!”. She started at the strange voice. Hell? Whose voice was that? Into the room stepped a man in an elegant dark suit. He wore a mustache and goatee. A short pair of horns protruded from his forehead and if not for those, Dawn would have considered him handsome. Her eyes widened in fear. “Are-are you the devil?” she stammered. The stranger smiled, a pointy-toothed smile. “Verrrry good, Dawn!” he said, drawing out the word “Very”. “Welcome to the section of hell reserved especially for females.”. Dawn shivered. “I must say that I was quite impressed with your execution. So impressed that I decided to adopt eternal tickling as punishment for all females sent here!”. That explained the female laughter she heard coming from all directions! Dawn screamed. The devil smiled. He spoke again. “And now, Dawn Rambin, I am pleased to introduce you to the demons that will torment you-forever!”. Two demons stepped forward, grinning. They looked just like her ex-husband and dead son, but they were not them-their faces merely a constant reminder to her of what she had done to come here! They rushed to her bare feet and began to lick her naked soles. Dawn screamed again. Grinning, giggling and urinating, Dawn Evilyn Rambin began her eternal tickle torment.
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Fantastic! 
