The Au Pair Girl

Cathy’s Trial

The 19-year-old American Au Pair girl, Cathy Logan, had never left the country before. And now she wishes she never had. In this strange land, lets call it Germany, Cathy had just been accused to be a murderess. That crime carried a possible penalty of death. The taking-of-evidence-phase of her trial had just ended. At a German court there was no jury, only a tribunal that consisted of five judges, who now had to decide what was going to happen to her. The wait was excruciating. Her attorney hugged her briefly and told her to be confident, for his case to spare her life was strong. His words were of little comfort however as she sat trembling in the court’s holding cell.

“I don’t belong here. I shouldn’t be here. I want to go home.” These were some of the many fleeting thoughts that rapidly passed through Cathy Logan’s mind as she sat in this small room that contained nothing more than a bench. This room was the holding cell of the district courtyard. Soon, the reading of the judgment in her case would be held. Cathy had never been in any real trouble before. There had been a few childhood pranks and one false accusation of cheating on a test in high school (quickly resolved by the teacher), but nothing that had even involved the school principal, much less the police. She desper­ately tried to turn the clock in her mind back three weeks to when she made that terrible mistake.

At that day, Cathy stayed at her host-family’s house. Her host-father was out at office, her host-mother, who suffered a serious disease, was at home in her bedroom, sleeping. Cathy was tired of that bitch and her ugly, continuously crying baby. As an Au Pair, she was to look after the baby, but the bitch made her act as a cheap domestic servant in­stead. Before she went to bed, she had just told Cathy to clean the living room, kitchen and bath room. Before she decided to become an Au Pair, Cathy was told that she would have to work only 30 hours per week. But know she had to work 9 hours per day! So, in an outburst of rage, Cathy lit the fucking house on fire. The wooden house caught fire much faster than she expected and Cathy was barely able to save herself. At the end, the moth­er and the baby were dead and Cathy was accused of arson. The police were convinced that she was in love with her host-father and wanted him to be free for her.

During the past few years, the country had gotten increasingly tired of crimes committed by foreigners. "Fight the foreign vermin" had become the political rallying cry, and politi­cians who were viewed as being to soft on those cases, even those unfortunates who were unwitting carriers, had been progressively weeded out. Soon, only the most conser­vative were left to make the laws. Under the new system, Cathy’s trial would be short and the sentence assured and harsh. Now Cathy sat shivering in the court’s holding cell, su­pervised by a camera that was installed at the ceiling.

It was wintertime and Cathy was wearing quite warm clothes, but nevertheless she was trembling. The court-rules said that female defendants were not permitted to wear too sexy clothes, like short skirts or low-neck-tops. Trying to influence the judges by sex appeal would offend the court. But Cathy wanted to show how beautiful she was, so she had de­cided to wear tight jeans and a tight dark blue turtleneck sweater, made of cashmere. These things were not on the list of forbidden clothing but nevertheless they showed clearly her slender body, her long legs and her perfectly shaped neck. To complete her dress, she had put on her best jacket, a short white fur jacket. She really wanted to look nice in front of all those people who were watching her trial.

About an hour had passed when the door to the holding cell opened. "The Tribunal has reached a decision", the female guard said. As she was led out, Cathy began to sob quietly. She was terrified of what awaited her in the courtroom. Cathy’s attorney grabbed her hand.

"Come on. Have confidence."

She nodded as she stood up and was escorted into the courtroom by the guard. Cathy and her attorney were seated at the head table directly in front of the judge’s desk. The Tribunal entered.

"All rise for the High Tribunal and the leading judge, the Honorable Ronald Barnabas."

The judges took their seats at their desks and the people at the courtroom were allowed to sit down.

"Will the prisoner please rise!”

Cathy looked at her attorney and he nodded his head and gave her a slight smile. She was so frightened she could barely push her chair away from the table. She weakly stood up, kind of hunched over at the waist and trembling. The leading judge began:

"I would like to issue an explanation of my reasoning before passing sentence. It is clear that the legislators of this nation wanted to make a statement in attaching a severe punish­ment to this crime. That is that we, as a country, would not tolerate those, who come to our country as our guests and commit serious crimes then."

At this point Cathy was barely paying attention. All she knew was the judge was continuing to ramble and the agony of suspense was growing stronger and stronger.

"Your defense here at court was unchanged from your defense during the investigation of the fire by the police. In the chief-investigator’s official written report, he stated that a con­viction was issued because there was no evidence that other individuals than you and your victims were at home at the time the fire broke out. In addition to that, it is clear that the fire was caused intentionally by lighting a large quantity of waste paper that was stored in the basement. Thus the tribunal is convinced that you intentionally took the live of two inno­cent German citizens. It would be inappropriate for me to issue you a reduced sentence."

Beginning to realize where this explanation was leading, Cathy began to cry.

"Therefore it is the judgment of this court that you, Katharine Logan, having been duly con­victed of murder in conjunction with arson, suffer the required punishment of death for your crime."

Cathy was unprepared of just how terrifying those words would be. She fell back into her chair and began crying uncontrollably. Her attorney did his best to comfort her.

"Counselor, please try to silence your client so I may finish." exclaimed the judge. After a few moments, Cathy calmed a bit. Although her sobbing continued, she was quiet enough for the judge to continue.

"Ms. Logan, you will be taken from this courtroom to a cell at the Berlin home for young of­fenders, where you will be detained until Wednesday of this week, when at nine o’clock in the morning, you will suffer a public grade-B execution."

So the trial was over. Cathy was allowed a brief talk to her attorney, before she was led to the waiting prison van.

"So what do we do now?"

Her attorney was seemingly puzzled by the question.

"Can’t we appeal this or something?"

"I’m sorry, Cathy. Didn’t you learn about the reformed jurisdiction in Germany? There would have to be some glaring error by the Tribunal in order for an appeal to even be con­sidered!”

Cathy took this surprisingly well.

"Wednesday? That’s tomorrow! So tomorrow I’m going to die?"

The attorney softly nodded his head. Cathy’s eyes glazed over, fighting back tears.

"Thank you for all your help. Are you going to be there tomorrow morning?”

"Unfortunately I have to be. If a client is sentenced to death, the defending attorney has to be present to witness the execution. It’s the law and without a doubt the most unpleasant part of my job."

A new friend

After the trial, Cathy was transferred to the so-called ‘Home for young offenders’, the facil­ity where the newly introduced ‘physical punishments’ were carried out. Just after arriving there, a female guard led her into a small room.

“We have to do some formalities, honey” the guard said, “Take off your jacket and give me your belt, your shoelaces and your bra please.”

Cathy understood what that was for: They didn’t want her to strangle herself and commit suicide. She was to die in public by the hand of the hangman. She quivered as the guard now measured her height, her weight and the width of her neck. Then the guard passed Cathy a small box.

“Put your watch, your money and all your valuables in here!”

Again Cathy complied. Then the guard said:

“I have to inform you, that all your valuables are confiscated. This includes that expensive fur jacket. Prisoners are not allowed to possess luxury things like that.”

Cathy sobbed. Then she was led to her cell, still wearing her own jeans and sweater. The inmates of the ‘Home for young offenders’ didn’t have to wear prison uniforms. The female guard opened the door to the cell and pushed Cathy in. Cathy was surprised as she saw that it was a cell for two prisoners with another girl already present.

“May I introduce you to the drug trafficker Miriam Schroeder”, the guard said, “Miriam knows your language, and I hope you two will get along well”.

Then the guard locked the door leaving the two girls alone in their cell. Miriam was a black haired German girl of approximately Cathy’s age. She was wearing jeans and a heavy white woolen turtleneck sweater.

“Hi, you can call me Miri!”

Her English was quite good. The two girls were looking at each other; neither of them really knew what to say. To break the silence, Miriam said:

Are you the American Au Pair everyone is talking about?”

Cathy nodded.

“So you’ve been sentenced today?”

Cathy sobbed and said: “They’re going to put me to death on tomorrow.”

Again Silence. After a while Miriam said in a soft voice: “Then we’ll walk together. I’ll die to­morrow as well.” Now Cathy briefly caressed Miriam. Both girls were glad not to be on their own in that situation.

After a while Miriam asked: “Did they issue you a grade-A or a grade-B execution?”

“Grade-B” Cathy answered, “I hope the second grade won’t be so hard…?”

Miriam didn’t answer. She just looked at Cathy with a sad expression on her face.

"So what’s it like” Cathy continued, “A grade-B execution I mean. Is it quick?"

"Cathy, I don’t think you should be worrying about that,”

But Cathy stood up and shouted at her: "TELL ME DAMNIT, I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THEY’LL DO TO ME!"

Miriam paused a bit, searching for the proper way to tell Cathy of their impending ordeal.

"Well, it’s not very pleasant."

"Go on, I want to know what’s going to happen to me!"

Miriam reluctantly continued:

"Well you’ll be placed on a small stool with a noose around your neck. When the stool is removed you will only fall about a foot at the most. Not nearly enough to cause death. So you will basically be strangled to death. They call it a slow hanging."

"How long will it take?" Cathy sobbed.

"Several minutes, possibly longer. They always issue grade-B to young girls, as a means of deterrent. I’ll hang as well…” Miriam started to cry softly.

What followed was silence, sometimes interrupted by a sob or sigh of one of the girls. Cathy wanted to talk about something different now, so she looked at Miriam and said:

“Nice sweater. Did you knit it yourself?”

“No”, Miriam answered, “My boyfriend’s mum knitted it for him, to stay warm on a sailing-trip. I always loved to wear his sweater when I was with him on cold days and Frank loved to see me wearing it. He called me ’little lamb’ then... He gave it to me as a farewell present when I was send to prison. I’ll never see him again, but I have his sweater that still smells a little bit like him... Sorry, I’m telling silly things...”

It was evening now, and a guard entered the cell to bring some sandwiches.

“Ladies, we hope you’ll enjoy your last meal in this life! Please go to bed soon, tomorrow will be a strenuous day for both of you!”

The girls had their last supper in silence. Then they stripped off their clothes and put on the prison supplied night gowns, which were in fact just simple oversized T-shirts. As Cathy arranged her clothes on a chair, to have them ready in the next morning, Miriam reached for Cathy’s fashionable dark-blue sweater.

“Can I please put it on for a minute? Just to see how it feels and how I’m looking in that? I always wanted to have such a nice cashmere sweater, but didn’t have the money to buy one...”

“Sure” Cathy answered, “Can I put on your hand-knitted sweater then? I always wanted to have a really warm sweater, one of those you can’t buy in a store, but didn’t have someone to knit one for me...”

Both girls laughed about it. Miriam pulled off her sleeping shirt. Then she pulled the soft cashmere sweater over her naked body and Cathy arranged the collar for her. Doing so, Cathy noticed that Miriam obviously enjoyed to be touched. Then it was Cathy’s turn to put on Miriam’s huge sweater. Cathy noticed that it was as heavy and warm as a winter jacket. As she felt the thick and little bit itchy wool surrounding her up to her chin, she knew why Miriam loved this sweater. Wearing it was like being at home, cozy and safe. And she no­ticed that it still carried the smell of a boy’s aftershave. Then Miriam started to caress Cathy’s wool-covered body, starting at the neck and slowly moving down. And Cathy knew why she did it.

“We’ll never see our boyfriends again”, Miriam said. “But I want to feel someone else’s body close to me, touching me gently, just one last time before I die.”

“It’s the same with me”, Cathy answered. “Just imagine it’s your boyfriend in this sweater...”

There wasn’t the need to talk any more. They knelt down on Miriam’s cot, facing each oth­er. Then they put their arms around each other and Cathy put her thigh between Miriam’s legs, to press it softly against her pussy. Immediately Miriam did the same at Cathy. So they started to stimulate the most sensitive parts of their bodies. They managed to do it perfectly, because girls know what girls like most. After half an hour of intense sex, both burst out into intense orgasms. Cathy felt too hot now, so she pulled the heavy sweater off and threw it over a chair. Miriam was still wearing the soft cashmere-sweater and Cathy al­lowed her to sleep in it. A few minutes later, both girls fell asleep.

Around 10:00pm the girls woke up again. Cathy noticed, that something was going on down in the prison yard. She looked out off the cell’s window and couldn’t believe what she saw. There were a few people busy down there.

“They’ve erected a wooden pole” she said, “Do you think that has something to do with … eh … tomorrow?”

“No” Miriam replied, “I don’t think that pole has something to do with us. Perhaps they take preparations for such a non-public firing squad execution. Anyway, we will be taken to the gallows at the public execution yard tomorrow. But that yard is at the other side of the building.”

At that moment the door of the cell suddenly opened and two guards entered the room, fol­lowed by the warden.

“Miriam Schroeder” the warden said, “I’ve got good news for you: As an act of mercy, your sentence has been reduced to grade-A execution. That means you needn’t die in public. Your life will be quickly ended by a volley of bullets. This will happen immediately. Get ready! ”

It took Miriam a few moments to understand what was going on. As she realized, that her life would be over in a few minutes, she started to cry. Then the guard ordered her to dress, and she began to pull off Cathy’s cashmere sweater she was still wearing. But Cathy said:

“Hey, I don’t want it back! Won’t it be comfortable to wear it under your itchy wool sweater? It’s cold outside...”

Miriam just nodded. Cathy had realized that Miriam was a sweater fetishist, and thought that gift would comfort her somehow. Miriam was still in a state of shock so Cathy assisted her putting on her stockings, jeans, and boots. Miriam looked really beautiful now, in her jeans and the tight dark cashmere sweater and the warden took his digital camera to take pictures of her for the prison website. Finally Cathy helped Miriam into her heavy wool sweater, arranged the collar and briefly combed her black hair.

“Come one, Miri,” the warden said, “We have to go now. Say goodbye to your American friend. It’ll be over in a few minutes and it won’t hurt much.”

Each of the two guards got a hold of one of Miriam’s arms and led her out of the cell. She wasn’t even walking really. The two men were dragging her down the corridor as she star­ted to scream:

“GOD NO! PLEASE, I DON’T WANT TO DIE. NOT YET, PLEASE....”

The ’little lamb’ is going to the slaughter, Cathy thought. Just the thought of someone be­ing put to death tied her stomach in knots. Then to think that early tomorrow morning, it would be her turn. It was a terrifying thought. She told herself that she was going to try and be more composed. Whether or not she actually could or not remained to be seen.

Cathy looked out of her cell’s window, excitedly watching what was going on down in the prison yard. In the meantime, some very bright spotlights have been switched on, and the pole was brightly illuminated now. The guards and their prisoner appeared, and they marched Miriam directly to the post. Then with one arm on each side, they backed her up to the post, pulled her hands and arms behind it, and tied them with plastic cable straps. The warden stepped forward and read Miriam’s death warrant. He concluded by asking if she had any last words, and she shook her head. A side door now opened, and the six members of the firing squad marched in, each of them carrying a rifle. They didn’t blindfold Miriam, but obviously due to the bright spotlights, she wasn’t able to see the people who were going to kill her. Once all six men were in position, the warden issued the first com­mand.

"Squad Ready!"

The six men assumed an alert position with their rifles pointed upwards at a 45-degree angle.

"Safety’s Off!"

In the silence of the prison yard the clicks could just be heard.

"Aim!"

The rifles pointed at Miriam’s heart. She must have heard all the commands. She must have been aware that her live would be over in a few seconds.

"Fire!"

The bullets entered Miriam’s chest, right in the center, between her breasts. She stiffened, and let out a gasp. Her head slumped over, and blood poured from her mouth. Great quantities of blood seeped from the wounds in her chest, slowly changing the color of her sweater from white to red. After a few last spastic movements, Miriam was gone. Cathy watched all this from her cell’s window, but this was more than she could stand. She col­lapsed into her cot and began crying uncontrollably, eventually crying herself to sleep.

Preparing Cathy

The sunlight shining on Cathy’s face woke her Wednesday morning. When she finally came to she was in a panic. What time was it? How much longer did she have? She ran to the door and looked out at the clock. It was 8:15. Oh my god, she thought. Only 45 minutes left. She began breathing heavily, nearly hyperventilating. Then she began to calm herself. I have to be composed she thought. I don’t want to be seen like Miri the night before. She washed her face and put her jeans on. Because she had given her sweater away, she pulled the sleep-shirt over her undershirt. Cathy kept looking at the clock. Each minute seemed like a second. She sat back down on her cot and resolved not to look at the clock again. Then the door to her cell opened. Again panic set in. A tall man who was carrying a large bag entered the room. Cathy didn’t yet know that it was Johannes Kruger, the hangman.

"Hello Cathy, my name is Kruger. I will be your executioner today."

Cathy jumped up to look at the clock in the hall. It was 8:30.

"NO WAIT, IT’S NOT TIME YET! I STILL HAVE 30 MINUTES!” she cried.

"I’m sorry Cathy. I need get you prepared now. You will be hanging at right about 9:00."

She felt her composure weaken at the mention of her fate. Trying to fight back the tears but failing. "OK" She sobbed.

“Please, stand up in front of me, Cathy” Kruger said kindly. Cathy complied. Kruger noticed that she was looking really sexy in her tight jeans. Then he started preparing her. First he produced a pair of scissors out of his bag and shortened Cathy’s curly blond hair. Now it was ensured that her neck would be bare for the noose. Cathy quivered as she noticed that Kruger was going to pinion her now. The hangmen fastened a thick leather belt around her waist and she noticed that there was a pair of heavy handcuffs attached to the front of the belt.

“They’ll help you not to grab the noose,” Kruger said. She briefly moaned as he pulled the straps on the belt very tightly.

“Please, could you blindfold me right now?” she asked, “I don’t want to see all those hor­rible devices.”

“I’m sorry” Kruger answered, “No blindfolds for criminals like you. Neither here nor later at the gallows.”

Cathy tried to fight back tears and quivered again.

"I feel so cold, I would like to wear my jacket when we go outside" she said.

"You know, your expensive fur jacket has been confiscated. According to the execution rules, prisoners have to wear simple everyday clothes at the gallows. But your relatives have been informed about that and they’ve send you this:”

Kruger produced a green nylon jacket out off his bag. It was an original American air force pilot’s ’N2B’ parka. It was very warm and it had a large fake-fur trimmed hood. Cathy knew that type of jacket and she liked it. She put it on and closed the zipper. The jacket now hid the leather belt and only the Handcuffs could be seen, dangling in front of her waist. Kruger made them snap tightly onto her wrists, and then he looked into her face.

"I’m sorry. Those need to be tight. You’ll really be struggling hard against them when you’re hanging. I have to make sure they can’t come loose."

Cathy sobbed. All these senseless explanations were pure terror, in fact just a part of the punishment.

“I have one last question to ask you, Cathy” Kruger continued, “Where do you want me to place the knot of the noose? I mean if it’s placed at your left ear, then there’s a minor chance that your neck breaks. Otherwise, if it’s placed at the back of your head, you strangle faster.”

She couldn’t respond. She was nearly in shock at this point. Kruger suddenly felt sorry for terrifying her so much. He hugged her for a moment, trying to offer some comfort.

“Hush. It’s all right, you’re a good girl. It will be over soon. I’ll do my best to give you a quick death” he said and briefly kissed her face. Then he pulled her parka’s hood over her head. "It’s cold outside" he said, "Let’s go" He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her out of the cell, down the corridor and out to the prison yard.

Cathy’s Great Show

As they approached the execution yard, Cathy could feel her legs weakening. How was she going to be able to hold her composure together when they entered that place? They stopped right outside of a very wide metal door. It was wide enough for three or four people to walk through side by side. The executioner pressed a red button on the side of the door. It slid open. About twenty feet in front of her were two upright wooden poles, spaced about 10 feet apart and a crossbar on top. The noose was fastened to the cross­bar. The sight took Cathy’s breath. She felt faint.

The witness’s area of the execution yard was filled with a crowd of about 300 people, who immediately fell into silence as Cathy was led in. 300 pairs of eyes were staring at her, 300 pairs of ears were eagerly willing to hear every single word that was spoken at the hanging platform. Cathy was led toward a small wooden stool directly below the noose. Her legs fi­nally gave way and she fell to her knees. "Please god, no", she mumbled. The executioner helped her to her feet. There was a small set of steps directly in front of the stool. Cathy was helped up the steps and on to the stool. The executioner carried on with his work and placed a leather strap around Cathy’s ankles and fastened another one just above her knees. She was holding her head down, staring at the ground and trying to ignore the noose that was dangling right in front of her. Desperately she hoped the parka’s hood that still covered her head would protect her from what was going to happen. Then the warden addressed the crowd. He pointed at Cathy and said: “This American Bitch, who’s shamefully hiding her face, has taken the lives of two innocent German citizens in a very disgusting way. In a few moments, she’ll pay with her live for that detestable crime. Katharine Logan, do you have any last words?”

“I… didn’t…” she uttered.

“That’s all?” the warden asked.

Cathy nodded. Then the warden addressed the crowd again:

“I want all of you to remember: You won’t see a pretty young girl dying. What you’ll see is a murderess and an arsonist getting her reward. Katharine Logan: You’ll die now. May your death be painful enough to ensure that justice is done. Executioner, please proceed!”

Cathy was now crying heavily. She had lost all concern about keeping her composure in front of the crowd. The executioner placed another stool next to Cathy, climbed up on it and pulled the parka’s hood off her head. Cathy knew what was going to follow. She saw the executioner reaching for the noose. She whimpered and threw her head to the side, looking for any means to dodge the noose, but Kruger gripped Cathy’s hair with one hand and forced her head through the noose. The moment Cathy feared the most occurred. She felt the noose being tightened around her neck. It was so tight she thought. She was already having trouble breathing and she was still on the stool. "How am I going to stand it when I fall", she wondered.

Now everything was in place and Cathy was ready to die. Some of the witnesses noticed Cathy’s pants. A big wet spot started to form on the front side of her jeans. Obviously Cathy had lost control of her bladder. Now Kruger fastened two long cords to the front legs of the stool. A last time he turned to Cathy and said: "Get ready Miss". Then he went to the front left corner of the platform and paused briefly.

Cathy was crying heavily again. She knew the stool was about to be removed. The wait was pure torture. Kruger yanked on the two cords and the stool was ripped from out be­neath Cathy. She let out tremendous scream. The scream was short lived as her fall was less than a foot and the rope quickly cut off her windpipe. It was only a few seconds after the initial shock of the fall wore off and Cathy realized she was still alive.

Cathy was fiercely struggling against her bonds to no avail. She gasped shortly and her feet desperately looked for some support, which wasn’t there. Her handcuffed hands opened and closed. The rope cut into her neck causing severe pain. Her lungs felt as if they were on fire. Her head was pounding from the lack of oxygen to her brain. However, to her dismay, she was still fully conscious and enduring incredible agony. At this point, she had completely lost control over her constrictors and everything that her bladder and her bowels had contained, was now released. Her jeans were full of piss and shit. Her prayer of a quick death had not been answered. She had been so terrified of dying, and was now begging for death. Her vision became cloudy as the blood vessels in her eyes began to burst. The severe pain of the hanging and the panic of worrying how long this agony would last were unbearable torture.

After ten long minutes, Cathy’s movements became weaker, she only jerked a few more times, and then her body went limp. Her eyes were closed. The colored tongue was hanging slightly protruded out of her mouth. Her body swung back and forth from the slight breeze. She had now mercifully lost consciousness and was essentially dead. Regulations required that prisoners hang for one hour to ensure death had occurred. At the 27-minute mark, the physician pronounced Cathy dead. At 10:00 am she was cut down and hauled off to the morgue.

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