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

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

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

The theatre was in one of the towers and so, was a circular room. A ten foot wooden pole stood in the centre of the ring, surrounded by tiered rows of seats. I stood below in the arena and looked up. Only Lydia was present in the “crowd”. God damn her, hadn’t she anything else to do? This young girl would have enough on her plate without being gawked at. Couldn’t Lydia afford her a touch of dignity?

For some reason, the rules demanded that I wear a mask over my eyes. That was kept in my locker where all the other equipment was stored. I took out everything I needed- the stout ropes, the thick collar and the cruel whip. I didn’t have any special outfit for the job, just the standard club uniform; a crisp white shirt and a short black skirt- the same as all the other girls wore.
The black rubber mask was tiny- little bigger than a large pair of glasses. I checked everything and marched into the arena to await the girl. When they brought her in, two wardens, attractive muscular girls, flanked her on both sides. The girls hands were cuffed in front of her, chained to her shackled ankles. I’d seen other girls cry at the thought of their flogging but this one, with her demise imminent, stood tall and impassive, as if she‘d been here ten thousand times before.
Roughly, the wardens unlocked her bindings and tore her clothes off. I felt the chill running up her back as the cold of the room hit her smooth, flawless flesh.

It was time for me to get to work. Fastening the collar around her neck, I led her to the pole where, chaining one of the rings of the collar to a hoop, I fixed her neck in place. Tightly, I pressed her against the pole, the shaft pushing between her firm breasts. Tying the ropes around her ankles in a figure of eight, I tugged at the knots to test their strength. I still knew how to tie a good knot. It’s a skill that never leaves you.
A hook jutted out on the other side of the post just above her head. Fastening the leather cuffs around her wrists I hung the chain from the hook, hoisting her hands above her. With my longest length of rope, I wrapped it around her waist and tied it, the fibre digging into her pale, goose pimpled flesh.
I have to hand it to her. With each sharp blow I delivered she didn’t whimper once. The merciless whip worked her art, leaving her agonising signature all over Lana‘s back. Personally, I felt that a flogging would be enough for this girl. She knew the pain of disobedience and with one so young, was unlikely to do it again. But it wasn‘t up to me.

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

My husband never asked about what I did at work. In fact, he grew tired of my constant stonewalling. All I told him was that I worked for the government and, bound by the Official Secrets Act, if I told him anything, I could go to prison. In reality, had I revealed the truth, I’d have been strung up from my own gallows.
I lay awake on the pillow beside him while he sat up in bed reading Bukowski. With his eyelids beginning to droop, he put the book down and noticing I was still awake, kissed me on the lips.
“Anything wrong?”
Faking a smile, I told him there wasn’t.
“OK then, good night baby.” As he snored, I still lay awake thinking of the girl. I felt lousy for not giving her my medal. Maybe there was still time to make it up to her. My conscience had never felt this bad about an execution. The ones I had previously hanged had killed their masters. Maybe I didn’t think hanging them was right, but it was better them than Lana. Gradually, my conscience heavy, I drifted off to sleep.

I waited patiently on the platform for the wardens to bring the prisoner out. Again, the mask obscured a small part of my face. The clank of chains and the thump of feet on wood became audible and Lana appeared up the steps, bound like she had been the previous day and wearing the organisation’s uniform, just like me. They led her over to the trapdoor and unfettered her. Retiring to the room beneath, they left myself and Lana completely alone.
Nothing in her face revealed the abject terror she must have been feeling. I respected her for that. That young girl standing tall atop the gallows could so easily have been me ten years ago. I shuddered at the thought. It was time for me to get to work.
“Have you anything to say before sentence is carried out?” She was silent. I tied up her satin hair and pulling the black hood over her head, made sure Lana would never see the light of day again. It was such a waste. I strapped her long, slender legs together at the ankles and cuffed her hands behind her back. With a short length of rope, I pulled her elbows together and bound them, hoisting her pert young breasts upwards. As a final dignified act, I wound some rope around her skirt so as it wouldn’t flap when she went through the trapdoor. Believe me, there were people down there looking up.
Dropping the noose dangling from the beam above, and pulling it over the hood, I tightened it around her elegant neck. With that, Lana was ready. I went to the trapdoor lever. The drop would take place at my discretion. Looking at her, I thought of one last thing. Unclasping my St. Christopher’s medal from around my neck, I walked over to her and pressed it into her hand. She must have known what I was doing, as she grasped it in her palm and squeezed.
With a lump forming in my throat I tried to delay the drop for as long as possible, but I knew I had to proceed. I could scarcely imagine the terror of standing there alone, no longer in control and about to meet a violent death. I hope the medal helped her feel that she wasn’t alone up there.
With a heave, I pulled the lever back. Lana fell and after travelling a few feet, the rope snagged and I heard a crack. It swayed and rocked from side to side. With every execution I had carried out, there had been a cheer from the crowd below, but now there was silence; just the creaking of wood as a tear fell from my mask. Marching quickly away from the gallows I went back to my office
I sincerely hoped that I had done my best for her- that she hadn’t felt any pain. They’d be taking her down now for burial or cremation. Typing furiously on my keyboard I produced a short letter. Barging into Lydia’s office, I slapped the letter on her desk.
“What’s this?”
“Read it.” Stony faced, Lydia opened the envelope and scanned through the letter.
“So you’re leaving us?”
“In two weeks.”
“What made you decide?”
“I couldn’t do it any more. Seeing that girl dangle at the end of that rope made me sick. I could see myself in her.”
“Of course, you never went down the slave route. By the way, don’t you owe us a debt?”
“As far as I’m concerned, today, I paid it.”

The next two weeks drifted slowly by. Some of the girls in the administration end bought me a cake. The whole thing was nothing out of the ordinary- just like leaving any office job.
As I pulled away from the manor in my car for the last time, I looked in my rear view mirror and saw Lydia leaning against one of the Doric columns looking nonchalantly out over the estate. I don’t know whether she knew it or not, but beside her stood Lana, smiling and waving. I smiled back.