Amy stayed to watch the preparation: Miranda's hands now untied, her body laid on her back on a table, her arms and legs splayed apart. Preston, as the host, cut her head off, after Andrew had first insisted that the choker be pushed up her neck because he wanted to keep that. Her head was immersed in a large jar of preserving fluid -- for three days the fluids would be absorbed into her tissues, leaving her skin and hair afterwards permanently moist, supple, and lifelike. As Preston and Andrew were about to start disemboweling her, Beth interrupted for a detail not usually needed at a normal roast, but standard after hangings: with a cooking-oil-soaked cloth, she wiped the insides of Miranda's legs, from her pussy down to her feet, to remove the trail of urine -- a slight bitter tang would have been noticeable otherwise. Then, in her lone departure from the script, Beth bent down and tenderly kissed Miranda between her legs, one last time. At last she backed away and gestured for the men to continue.

As soon as they had pushed the spit pole into Miranda's rectum and through her body, and carried her over to mount her over the fire to cook, Amy rushed into the house, unable to wait any longer. She took the stairs two at a time up to her second floor bedroom, locking the door behind her.

She yanked the closet door open and riffled frantically through her clothes, not sure what she was looking for but knowing she'd recognize it when she saw it. At last she came to two never-worn terrycloth robes, one pink and one white, both gifts from her father. Each had a belt.

She had no intention of experimenting with hanging herself. She swore to herself she would wait on that until she was at the Academy -- they would tell her how to do it right, teach her all the safety rules. It would be such a tragedy, she knew, if she were to kill herself accidentally in her ignorance, when in just a few months all would be revealed. But she had to, had to, just had to play out the fantasy in her mind in some safe way. To feel what Miranda had felt. To see what she herself would look like in that role.

Amy quickly peeled off her clothes and stood naked in front of her full-length mirror. She had often looked at herself this way before, searching for signs of approaching womanhood, excited about leaving childhood but dreading being called upon to act like a woman when she didn't know how.

This was different.

She tried, as Miranda had asked her, to see herself as another person would see her.

She really did have generally the same body shape as Miranda, she realized. Miranda might have looked something like this three or four years ago. Amy cupped her breasts with her hands from underneath. They were full enough, and probably some toning of her shoulder and back muscles, some firming up of her stomach, would make them perkier. Her legs could use some work as well. She stood on her toes. There, that looked... she giggled. That was actually a little sexy.

She needed to shave them. She thought about stealing one of Andrew's razors, but she didn't want her legs covered with little cuts and nicks. Maybe her dad's medicine cabinet had, miraculously, some hair removal cream belonging to her mother from years ago. Amy shook her head. There's no way he would have kept it, and it probably wouldn't be any good anymore anyway.

I'll have to make a list of everything I need, she thought.

She bit her lip, the tingling growing between her legs, her stomach a mass of butterflies. She wrapped one of the terrycloth belts around her waist and tied it in front of her stomach. She tied one end of the second belt to the knot in the first, and pulled the belt between her legs, until it was tight through her pussy. She began pulling on it. Wait, no good, she thought. I know what's missing.

She ran into her bathroom and emerged with a towel. She wrapped it around her neck, snugly but not choking -- just tight enough that she could feel it all the way around. Her hands behind her back again, wrists crossed as if they were tied, she began tugging on the belt again. Through half-closed eyes she watched herself in the mirror, trying to project herself into Miranda. Trying to be Miranda.

Without being choked, the feeling of floating she had felt with Miranda's hands around her neck returned to her. She felt suspended, dangling in midair, the rope, no it's cloth, rubbing her pussy, rubbing, making her shiver. She thrust with her hips, her breasts bouncing. Floating. Tingling. Feeling it in her crotch. I'm hanging. I'm hanging.

No orgasm had ever hit her like this before: an explosion in her body that shook her from her head to her toes, fire and ice, pounding, pounding, waves blasting outward from between her legs, each threatening to burst her apart as it reached the ends of her body and reflected back.

Her knees buckled, and everything went black.

She returned to consciousness gradually, disoriented, not remembering for a moment why she was sprawled on the floor. The towel around her neck reminded her. She smiled exhaustedly. Oh yeah. That's why.

I was you, Miranda. Just for a minute, I was you.

Amy spent the next two hours diligently searching the Web on her computer for information on the Hanging Academy. She spent most of the time on the Academy's own Web site, reading every page closely. Through her open window, the aroma of Miranda roasting floated into her room.

Through the window, out of the corner of her eye she saw a flurry of activity. They were taking Miranda off the fire.

Amy started out of her room, almost dashing downstairs before realizing she was still naked. Giggling, she threw her clothes back on and went down to rejoin the party.

She arrived in time to see the first cut. Miranda, headless, was now lying on her stomach on the carving table, her skin now a rich, deep brown, steaming and cracked, covered with a caramelized glaze from the barbecue sauce painted on her during roasting over the base of cooking oil. Miranda's father, with a huge carving knife, was slicing sideways through her left buttock, depositing the thick steak on a plate afterwards. He looked up at Preston. "May I cut a few slices from her leg to take home to her sisters?"

Preston smiled and gave him a "be my guest" gesture.

Soon after, Preston and Andrew rolled Miranda onto her back, and Preston cut off her breasts, then backed away to let Andrew take his cut from her pussy.

Preston looked at Amy, who asked, "Could I get her little finger?"

Andrew looked up sharply and gave her his usual "Are you nuts?" look. "What do you want her finger for?"

She looked at him sourly. "Why do you care? You want it?"

He curled his lip and shook his head. "Eating light today, moron?"

"I want some other slices too. I don't care from where. But I want her little finger. Make it the right hand."

He sighed loudly. "Okay, whatever."

A few minutes later, finishing loading her plate with beans and potato salad beside several slices of Miranda, Amy looked up to see Beth standing beside her, smiling. "Come sit with me?"

Amy's eyes went wide. "Sure!"

Beth led her to a picnic table occupied only by Big Bill, who had enough food in front of him for three men. There was room for more people than just Beth and Amy to join him, but, to Amy's complete lack of surprise, nobody had.

Amy felt a need to be polite. "Hi, Bill."

He looked up at her briefly, nodded, and continued eating.

Amy looked at Beth curiously. "Do you always wear those shades?"

Beth giggled. "No, never. This is just part of the costume. I've got them on now because I'm supposed to stay in character the whole day."

Taking a deep breath, Amy picked up Miranda's little finger. She looked at it for several minutes, as Beth ate silently beside her. At last she sighed happily and began nibbling the flesh from it.

She gestured towards the stage. "This whole thing was so... elaborate. Are there other scripts besides the 'Princess Scenario?' "

"Oh, yeah, several. Each girl usually has her favorite, one that really fits her fantasies better than the others. This was Randi's."

As she finished the last strip of finger meat, Amy remembered something she was wondering about. "Beth, how do you guys last so long? There's some way... I mean, you've got to be breathing somehow. I don't know how, but there's no other way. Could Miranda have been breathing?" Amy suddenly remembered the way Miranda had been rolling her head, while the rest of her body had been jerking around at random. There must be a connection, she thought.

Beth gave her a mysterious smile. "I couldn't say."

Amy looked at her, a little surprised. "You can't tell me? Even though you'll be dead yourself in a week?"

"Amy, the Academy means everything to me. It's my whole life. There are some secrets, obviously. Everybody knows that. But the only way you're going to find out what they are is by being a student. Part of me wants to tell you, but I never would. Even Randi wouldn't have told you. It means that much to us."

"Is that why -- I was just reading some stuff online -- they don't let any first-year students leave the grounds, or communicate with the outside world? They didn't give a reason for that."

Beth nodded. "After you've been there a year... survived a year, I guess I should say," she giggled, "They trust that your commitment and loyalty to the Academy will outweigh any temptation to spill the secrets. The number of furloughs to see your family is still really limited -- I suppose you read that too -- but they trust us to that extent. No student has ever betrayed the trust. And I don't think any ever will."

Amy swallowed some potato salad and picked up another mouthful of Miranda with her fork. "Can you tell me how you knew she was dead? I saw you give Andrew a signal."

Beth nodded. "That part's not a secret. Your brother had to know about it, for example. Randi's choker has a pulse sensor. I've got a monitor for it," she patted her pocket. "The Academy insists on making absolutely sure the buyer doesn't try to fake the girl's death. They're well aware of the temptation to keep a girl alive and then use her over and over for private hanging exhibitions. They're protecting their exclusivity."

Beth cut off another bite of Miranda's meat. As she chewed it, she was looking at Amy thoughtfully. Or at least seemed to be. The shades made it hard to tell. Swallowing, she said, "So now that you've seen Randi hanged, you still want to go to the Academy?"

Amy closed her eyes, shivering as she felt a dim echo of her orgasm. "More than anything ever in my life." She took a bite of a larger slice of Miranda. It felt good to have Miranda in her mouth.

She looked back at Beth, and saw the girl was smiling at her. Beth said, "You know, you were really special to Randi."

Amy gawked at her. "Not like you were! I could see the way you two looked at each other. I mean, I only knew her a couple of hours!"

Beth smiled and shrugged. "None of us know each other very long. It's the depth of the feeling, not how long it lasts. Think about this. I saw that look she gave you, right at the end. She could have given her dad a last little Goodbye, I Love You look. Or me. She could see me out of the corner of her eye, and I could see her. The person she picked, for her last communication with the world, was you."

Amy's jaw dropped. Unexpectedly, tears started streaming from her eyes. She couldn't think of anything else to say except, "Thank you."

Beth reached over and rubbed Amy's back. Neither said anything for a few minutes. Finally Beth said, "Listen, Randi would want me to try to help you get into the Academy, and I thought about how I can. Remember I said I'm going to be hanged myself, next Saturday? Can you be there? And help out, like you did today?"

Amy looked at her wide-eyed, hardly daring to breathe. "Really???"

Beth grinned. "Of course, really! I'd love to have you there."

"Are you doing the Princess thing too?"

Beth shook her head. "This one will be the 'Runaway Slave.' I'm the slave, and I'm captured and hanged as my punishment. It's a whole different character from the princess. I'll do a whole lot of crying and pleading. And instead of a robe, they'll bring me onstage in a cage. Coming out of that is like the moment where Randi's robe came off. Steffi, another girl in our graduating class, is going to be my executioner, so she'll be the one in black this time."

Amy was more excited by the minute. "Thank you so much for inviting me!"

Beth smiled. "No problem at all." She rolled her eyes. "It's going to be a pretty draining day. Six guys went in together for the money to buy me. I'm supposed to do all six of them before they hang me. One at a time, I assume."

"Wow!"

"No kidding. Oh! Here was the whole point. When you go apply to the Academy, make sure and put on your application that you were a sub-assistant at today's hanging -- they'll understand that to mean you gave non-technical help, nothing that required special training -- and that you're scheduled to do it again next Saturday. That experience will really give you a leg up on the other applicants, especially on top of that recommendation Randi wrote for you. I'll get something to write with later and give you the address... no, wait, the simplest thing would be for you to ride over there in the limo with us."

Amy felt as if her heart would burst. "That would be... so..." There was no word she could find. She threw her arms around Beth and hugged her, hard.

After she let go at last, Beth indicated her plate with her fork. "I've got a big slice of Randi's heart here. I think it's probably more than I can eat. Do you want to share it?"

Amy found that tears were flooding her face again. She nodded.