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Ruth was gobsmacked - the woman had been with the organisation for years. She'd done her time in all the usual parts of the organisation, been a loyal and productive employee, yet now she succumbed to the lure of easy money, dealing hard drugs to the staff, especially young ones, the newbies.
Whatever else the organisation did, and it did a lot of less than legal things, drugs were no part of it.
She had to go, no question. Call Jo, get the photography team in place and crucify the bitch, but do it yesterday . . .
Ruth was angry, as was her boss, Belinda.
So it was that a only a couple of days later, she was walking through the woods, not to one of the regular execution sites, but to one with which Jo wanted to experiment, back where such things used to happen.
Dropped off early in the day, Jo and her crux team for the day took charge, tied the heavy cross-beam on the woman's shoulders and made her walk barefoot to the chosen location.
There, the bar was roped to a convenient tree and the subject left to contemplate her fate.
The covering to her body was stripped off and then the loin-cloth, the pseudo-knickers she'd been allowed to wear; that came off too. Her face showed the displeasure, the shame she felt.
Her body had seen better days, some long time ago, and now it was obvious she was distressed to have it revealed in all its worn-out nakedness, saggy tits, shaved pussy mons.
Nevertheless, she wasn't ugly and Jo could see some vestiges of the good looks that had once been there.
However, this was no time for deeper appreciation of the female form.
Jo proceeded to bind the silly bitch's feet, so she'd hang and suffer as intended.
Job done; she was crucified.
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