Written by an anonymous contributer for the series "Stagecoach robbery"

Justice was swift and severe in this frontier town.  The sheriff made sure of that.  Not content to wait for the return of the county judge, the sheriff decided to carry out sentencing himself.  Wendy was still trying to come to grips with the horrible things she had done only an hour earlier.  Her mind reeled and raced to put together the events she set in motion – the hold up of the stagecoach, the shooting of the man in the back, and the hanging of her friend Stephy.  Wendy could not remember a single detail.  It was as if she had lost a couple hours of memory in its entirety.  She couldn’t explain the lewd outfit she was wearing either.  Wendy would never wear such a revealing and salacious ensemble, especially in the middle of town.  But there she was in her jail cell with cowhide chaps, thong underwear, and an all too small vest.  Now, even the vest was gone, as the sheriff confiscated it as part of his effort to humiliate her.  She stood with her back to the steel bars with her delicate wrists tied to one of them with rough rope.  Word got around what the sheriff had done with her, and some of the town’s menfolk made an effort to peek through the jail window at the prisoner, each hoping to get a glance at her naked breasts.  Wendy waited in the damp jail cell, shivering from the chilly air and the fear of what awaited her.  Sheriff Sam approached and unlocked her cell.

“Come with me, murdering bitch!” he commanded.

“Wh-where are you taking me?” Wendy asked with meek trepidation.  “Can I at least have a shirt to wear?”

“No!  You don’t deserve to be as clothed as you are now!” he shot back with a hiss.

Sheriff Sam had no sooner untied Wendy’s wrists from the bar when he grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her out of her cell.  Sam reapplied the rough rope to her wrists behind her back.  This had the effect of projecting her ample tits forward somewhat.  Sam allowed himself a generous, lingering view of Wendy’s naked torso, but he never let on his approval, keeping a judgmental scowl on his stern face the entire time.  Satisfied his bindings were secure, Sheriff Sam led Wendy outside and down the dusty street to the awaiting pole.  Her unsteadiness with arms behind her back and Sam’s rough handling of her caused Wendy’s bare boobs to bounce enticingly.  Wendy felt the eyes of Sam and virtually every other man in the small town on her as she was led away, and it made her blush red from embarrassment.

Sam had already arranged for two others to join him on what would be a makeshift execution squad.  He had quickly deputized two men to help with the sordid deed.  One was the resident town gambler, while the other was a cousin to Stephy, whom Wendy had hanged.  Each man had a rifle for which to use in the carrying out of the sentence.  Three was more than enough, but Sam wanted to give the proceedings a measure of an official feel.

Wendy began to tremble and cry as she approached the pole.  She had seen it in use months before when cattle rustlers had been caught and executed.  She couldn’t believe it was now meant for her.  Once again, the sheriff untied Wendy’s wrist bindings.  He backed her against the pole and retied the rope more tightly than before.  In a fleeting moment, Wendy thought to try to run before being retied, but her legs proved too wobbly and her fear too great to make it happen.

“Tears and sad faces are of no use out here, murderer.  But, we’re not entirely devoid of compassion.  Do you have any last requests or statements before we render justice?” the sheriff asked.

“I… I c-can’t think of anything…  (*SOB*) except that I have no idea why I did wh-what I did to poor Stephy…”

“Fair enough, murderer.”

The three riflemen assumed their positions no more than twenty feet away from the bound Wendy.  Still wearing the black and white chaps with matching thong and boots, she was naked from the hips up.  Her long brown hair flowed slightly in an equally slight breeze as Sheriff Sam ordered the men to take aim.

“P-please no!!  You don’t have to do this!” was her last plaintive cry for mercy.

Sam fired first.  The bullet struck Wendy near her clavicle, just under her left shoulder.  It was a serious wound, but one that was not too life-threatening.  Wendy gasped at the impact and pain, but was perplexed that only one bullet had struck her and that she still lived.  No one had told her the shots were to be staggered for the benefit of those watching.  Stephy’s cousin shot next.  The rifle round slammed into Wendy’s lower right ribcage, cracking one rib in the process.  She shrieked in pain and confusion.

“What are you doing to me?!!”  Her question remained unanswered.

After a few awkwardly silent seconds, the gambler fired next.  His bullet pierced Wendy’s taut, flat stomach just next to her slit of a navel.  A crimson spray issued from the new hole in her belly as Wendy screamed again in agony.  More internal organs were damaged, but nothing immediately lethal landed – as was intended.  Like the previous bullets this one slammed Wendy against the pole, causing her exposed tits to shudder provocatively.  The executioners winked at each other with smug satisfaction as they watched the show.  But Wendy was suffering internal blood loss, even as delicate red streams trickled down her chest and belly.  She sunk to her knees in a thud as her legs gave up trying to hold her.  Bare tits bounced again upon hitting the street.  Large tears dripped from her face and mingled with the blood issuing from her injured body.  She wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite form the words.  It would’ve been of no use anyway, for a fourth bullet found its mark.  This time, the offending lead projectile plunged into her right boob with another spray of red.  It barely missed her heart.  But, combined with the assault from the others, it would prove lethal enough in time.

Pain, shame, fear, and remorse flooded Wendy’s increasingly chaotic thoughts.  She now only wanted this horror to end.  Would Sheriff Sam oblige her with a last act of mercy?