Martha Come
Senator
Whip, rape and crucify the sweet brunette in red!
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Jedakk's Masterpiece
- Thread starter admihoek
- Start date
joe stevens
Assistant executioner
Do you know her address or post code? I'll pop around...!
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Deleted member jedakk
Guest
Well yeah, the brunette in red is Sabina, and her crucifixion is kind of what this story is about...
but she, Sabina, is lovely isn't?
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Deleted member jedakk
Guest
I tried to make her as beautiful as I could at the time, which was probably six or seven years ago. Back then it seemed like most of the pretty girls on crosses were blonde, and I purposely wanted her to be different, dark-haired and petite so the big black executioners would look overwhelmingly large beside her.
I'm happy you did.....................so it became one of my favo's
a pic made by Steve called scourging on the cross
![FotoSketcher - Sabina Whipped on the Cross [LR].jpg](https://www.cruxforums.com/xf/data/attachments/312/312329-166e8cad47ffe1a7c61124f7012bc833.jpg "FotoSketcher - Sabina Whipped on the Cross [LR].jpg")
we dark-haired and (at least alongside big black Executioners) petite crucifixae
are indebted to you for striking a (hammer-) blow for us!
D
Deleted member jedakk
Guest
Lucilla hung by her wrists for as long as she could bear the pain, and until the difficulty of breathing made her feel as if she were suffocating. When she could no longer bear it, she began to try to lift herself up. Pushing down on her bound feet and pulling up on her wrists, she rose, her body arching outward toward the onlookers.
Sabina describes what she saw:
Sabina describes what she saw:
For what seemed like a long time, Lucilla simply hung there, resting her head on one shoulder or the other as the pain of hanging by her wrists slowly got worse. Even though she had not been nailed to her cross as were the two men, the cramping in her arms, shoulders and chest must have been fierce. I could only guess that having spent so many agonizing days on the cross already – certainly more than any living person, she had learned the futility of struggling against the torture and exhausting herself.
But finally her cramping shoulders and labored breathing became too much to bear, and she began the struggle to push herself upward. She twisted and moaned as she tried to find some way to ease the knots of pain in her shoulders and chest.
As she rose, her body arched outward, her hard, straining muscles standing out like cords underneath her smooth, deeply tanned skin, gleaming with sweat. She could as easily have been a woman in the throes of passion rather than excruciating pain, and I recalled what Verina had said about the fine line between the two.
The onlookers that were gathered in front of her cross laughed and taunted her as she struggled to raise herself on the cross. She was incredibly beautiful up there, naked and so completely exposed, writhing sensuously.
But finally her cramping shoulders and labored breathing became too much to bear, and she began the struggle to push herself upward. She twisted and moaned as she tried to find some way to ease the knots of pain in her shoulders and chest.
As she rose, her body arched outward, her hard, straining muscles standing out like cords underneath her smooth, deeply tanned skin, gleaming with sweat. She could as easily have been a woman in the throes of passion rather than excruciating pain, and I recalled what Verina had said about the fine line between the two.
The onlookers that were gathered in front of her cross laughed and taunted her as she struggled to raise herself on the cross. She was incredibly beautiful up there, naked and so completely exposed, writhing sensuously.
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Just love Lucilla's writhing and contortions...so expressive of her pain and rage and sense of helplessness at the hands of her tormentors. Just beautiful, beautiful art! Oh to be her...!!!!Lucilla hung by her wrists for as long as she could bear the pain, and until the difficulty of breathing made her feel as if she were suffocating. When she could no longer bear it, she began to try to lift herself up. Pushing down on her bound feet and pulling up on her wrists, she rose, her body arching outward toward the onlookers.
Sabina describes what she saw:
For what seemed like a long time, Lucilla simply hung there, resting her head on one shoulder or the other as the pain of hanging by her wrists slowly got worse. Even though she had not been nailed to her cross as were the two men, the cramping in her arms, shoulders and chest must have been fierce. I could only guess that having spent so many agonizing days on the cross already – certainly more than any living person, she had learned the futility of struggling against the torture and exhausting herself.
But finally her cramping shoulders and labored breathing became too much to bear, and she began the struggle to push herself upward. She twisted and moaned as she tried to find some way to ease the knots of pain in her shoulders and chest.
As she rose, her body arched outward, her hard, straining muscles standing out like cords underneath her smooth, deeply tanned skin, gleaming with sweat. She could as easily have been a woman in the throes of passion rather than excruciating pain, and I recalled what Verina had said about the fine line between the two.
The onlookers that were gathered in front of her cross laughed and taunted her as she struggled to raise herself on the cross. She was incredibly beautiful up there, naked and so completely exposed, writhing sensuously.
It may not be your style jedakk, but would love to see her pissing at some point!
D
Deleted member jedakk
Guest
Not in this story, but as it happens, that does occur in the one I'm working on now.
We share the same passions Thess, you and I!
Thessela
Beloved slavegirl
Yes Roxie, such a strong passion!
D
Deleted member jedakk
Guest
Lucilla struggled her way up until she was as high on the cross as she could get. Her breathing was easier, but the roped dug painfully into her feet and ankles. She could not fully straighten her legs, so it was only a short time until her legs were quivering with the strain.
Sabina describes what she sees:
Sabina describes what she sees:
Lucilla stretched herself upward as if reaching for air, breathing heavily and fighting the pain of her cramping muscles. Verina eventually tired of taunting Publius, or maybe she was satisfied that his suffering and slow death would be enough compensation for his crime against her. She, along with most of the other onlookers, drifted back toward the Esquiline gate and the city. But I could hardly take my eyes off of Lucilla, let alone tear myself away to leave.
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Deleted member jedakk
Guest
Glad you can relate to the story! I hoped that it would push the right buttons for at least some readers.
Thessela
Beloved slavegirl
For lots of readers!
D
Deleted member jedakk
Guest
Even with her feet tied to the cross rather than nailed, the ropes dug into Lucilla's feet painfully. And since she could not straighten her legs completely, the muscles strained to hold her up. With her pain and fatigue increasing, she had to find another way to hold herself up so she could continue to breathe easily and rest her aching shoulders and chest.
Sabina, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene, continued to watch in fascination.
Sabina describes what she saw:
Sabina, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene, continued to watch in fascination.
Sabina describes what she saw:
After only a short time, her leg muscles began to quiver, and she had to strain to keep herself raised. The quivering grew more intense, and she began to sag downward. Seeking some relief, she leaned forward until her arms were outstretched behind her and her bottom was pressed back against the cross. It was the familiar position that every agonized crucifixion victim quickly learns, a way to try to seek some purchase against the wood and rest their legs, and I had seen it tried many times. It helps a little as long as the victim and the cross are not slippery with sweat, and on this October morning, Lucilla took advantage of it.
But every time Lucilla tried to relax her tired legs even a little, her hips slipped a little further down the cross. And as she slipped lower and her legs bent further and spread wider, it became harder for her to hold herself up. She would have to make a choice soon between surrendering to the sedile between her legs and dropping to hang by her wrists once again.
But every time Lucilla tried to relax her tired legs even a little, her hips slipped a little further down the cross. And as she slipped lower and her legs bent further and spread wider, it became harder for her to hold herself up. She would have to make a choice soon between surrendering to the sedile between her legs and dropping to hang by her wrists once again.
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Deleted member jedakk
Guest
Eventually, Lucilla made her decision. As she slipped lower on her cross, she felt the touch of the narrow edge of the hard wooden sedile touching her between her legs. She gritted her teeth and rotated her hips back a little to fit herself better against it, then let herself slip lower. She sucked in her breath as she felt the rough wood slip deeper into her, then let it out in a moan.
Sabina describes what she saw:
Sabina describes what she saw:
When she felt the sedile touch her, she twisted and struggled to try to find a way to rest on its thin edge. But she had precious little strength left for that, and very soon she moaned in defeat as her quivering legs gave out and her body sank down. She gave a louder groan as the unyielding wood slid between her buttocks and her weight rested on it. My own cheeks clenched together as I imagined what it must have felt like to have that hard, sharp edge forced up into her womanhood.
How could she bear such bruising pain in her most tender and vulnerable places? And what other choice did she have? As I witnessed victims struggling on crosses many times, I came to understand that this torture is all about choices – all of them bad. They could choose the pain of the sedile over the pain of hanging by the wrists or pushing up on their feet. But they couldn’t do it for hours and days without the pain there becoming just as unbearable as the nails.
Lucilla looked out over the crowd with pain-filled eyes that seemed to register disbelief at the number of people, mostly men, but many women as well, who were there to watch her suffer. As her deep blue eyes swept the jeering crowd, they met mine, and there was something like a look of recognition on her face. We simply stared at each other for a long moment.
I wondered afterward what she saw; was it a vision of my future? People say that crucifixion victims in the midst of great agony sometimes have visions like that. Did she somehow recognize that the next time I returned to the Sessorium, I would be bearing my own patibulum? That one of these empty crosses would raise me up too in only a few more days? Or was it just that I was a young woman like her, but with a life to look forward to that she would never know? Or so I thought at the time.
How could she bear such bruising pain in her most tender and vulnerable places? And what other choice did she have? As I witnessed victims struggling on crosses many times, I came to understand that this torture is all about choices – all of them bad. They could choose the pain of the sedile over the pain of hanging by the wrists or pushing up on their feet. But they couldn’t do it for hours and days without the pain there becoming just as unbearable as the nails.
Lucilla looked out over the crowd with pain-filled eyes that seemed to register disbelief at the number of people, mostly men, but many women as well, who were there to watch her suffer. As her deep blue eyes swept the jeering crowd, they met mine, and there was something like a look of recognition on her face. We simply stared at each other for a long moment.
I wondered afterward what she saw; was it a vision of my future? People say that crucifixion victims in the midst of great agony sometimes have visions like that. Did she somehow recognize that the next time I returned to the Sessorium, I would be bearing my own patibulum? That one of these empty crosses would raise me up too in only a few more days? Or was it just that I was a young woman like her, but with a life to look forward to that she would never know? Or so I thought at the time.
