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A Day at the Games
- Thread starter william23
- Start date
william23
Magistrate
Poor Velda
Velda sobbed in the corner of the cell, many others were crying or moaning in despair.
A grey haired old man approached her, he too was naked and Velda tried to shield her eyes from his nakedness. The man put an arm on her shoulder and she shuddered at his touch.
"My child," he said in a calm voice, "we need to be brave, we need to have dignity, we need to show the Roman scum that we are prepared."
"No, no," stuttered Velda, "this is all a bad mistake, I am a noblewoman from the house of Marcus Levicus, I am not condemned to die in the arena, I only came to ....." She stopped herself from saying that she was indeed a spectator to their deaths, but the old man sensed what she was about to say.
"Well," he continued, "what ever the reason for you to be here, you will no doubt die with the rest of us today that is for certain."
"Oh God how!" screamed Velda.
"By crucifixion," came a voice outside the iron cell door, "the crosses are already prepared and the kindling, to light you up, is nice and dry. Better still," he continued, "we will be using nails so that when the fires are lit the flames will not burn through rope and speed up your deaths."
The wailing in the cells got louder as the ringing of his words, in their ears, terrorised the group.
Meanwhile, Paulus and his mother and father were enthralled by the spectacle before their eyes. There had been several gladiator fights that had provided some excellent combat and bloody deaths. There had been two naked women fight bare handed on a small plank suspended above a board of spikes. The fight lasted all of ten minutes before the black Nubian slave was flung off the plank, by her opponent, whereby several long spikes pierced her body through her breasts, arms and legs. Her body shook in a spasm before stopping and was removed from the arena with hooks pulled by slaves.
"Where's Velda," remarked Paulus, "she's missing all the fun."
"No idea, " replied Marcus, "but look, they are bringing out the crosses and the wood for the fires. It shouldn't be long now for the main event."
All around the arena slaves were busy digging the holes for the statkes and making sure they were firm. Meanwhile, jugglers and accrobats entertained the crowds as the work continued. A cart was hauled around and in and out of the erected frames, a slave on the back would throw four spikes down at the foot of each stake, more slaves placed a hammer next to them.
Below the arena floor the preparations began as the cell door was flung open and slaves poured in to overpower the prisoners. Velda was still protesting her innocence and tried to explain that she had been allowed down to see the prisoners as her father, Marcus Levicus, had arranged it. No one listened to her pleas as she was herded, like the others, into the passageway to be burdened with her crossbeam. Each prisoner had their arms bound in place but the rope would be removed after the nails are driven. It was then that she felt the first tip of the lash on the pale skin of her back. She almost crumpled under the pain but managed to keep the soles of her blistered feet on the ground. The arena entrance was now only a few steps away!
To be continued...........................
Velda sobbed in the corner of the cell, many others were crying or moaning in despair.
A grey haired old man approached her, he too was naked and Velda tried to shield her eyes from his nakedness. The man put an arm on her shoulder and she shuddered at his touch.
"My child," he said in a calm voice, "we need to be brave, we need to have dignity, we need to show the Roman scum that we are prepared."
"No, no," stuttered Velda, "this is all a bad mistake, I am a noblewoman from the house of Marcus Levicus, I am not condemned to die in the arena, I only came to ....." She stopped herself from saying that she was indeed a spectator to their deaths, but the old man sensed what she was about to say.
"Well," he continued, "what ever the reason for you to be here, you will no doubt die with the rest of us today that is for certain."
"Oh God how!" screamed Velda.
"By crucifixion," came a voice outside the iron cell door, "the crosses are already prepared and the kindling, to light you up, is nice and dry. Better still," he continued, "we will be using nails so that when the fires are lit the flames will not burn through rope and speed up your deaths."
The wailing in the cells got louder as the ringing of his words, in their ears, terrorised the group.
Meanwhile, Paulus and his mother and father were enthralled by the spectacle before their eyes. There had been several gladiator fights that had provided some excellent combat and bloody deaths. There had been two naked women fight bare handed on a small plank suspended above a board of spikes. The fight lasted all of ten minutes before the black Nubian slave was flung off the plank, by her opponent, whereby several long spikes pierced her body through her breasts, arms and legs. Her body shook in a spasm before stopping and was removed from the arena with hooks pulled by slaves.
"Where's Velda," remarked Paulus, "she's missing all the fun."
"No idea, " replied Marcus, "but look, they are bringing out the crosses and the wood for the fires. It shouldn't be long now for the main event."
All around the arena slaves were busy digging the holes for the statkes and making sure they were firm. Meanwhile, jugglers and accrobats entertained the crowds as the work continued. A cart was hauled around and in and out of the erected frames, a slave on the back would throw four spikes down at the foot of each stake, more slaves placed a hammer next to them.
Below the arena floor the preparations began as the cell door was flung open and slaves poured in to overpower the prisoners. Velda was still protesting her innocence and tried to explain that she had been allowed down to see the prisoners as her father, Marcus Levicus, had arranged it. No one listened to her pleas as she was herded, like the others, into the passageway to be burdened with her crossbeam. Each prisoner had their arms bound in place but the rope would be removed after the nails are driven. It was then that she felt the first tip of the lash on the pale skin of her back. She almost crumpled under the pain but managed to keep the soles of her blistered feet on the ground. The arena entrance was now only a few steps away!
To be continued...........................
So, what happens when Velda’s family spots her on the arena floor? Surely they can raise the alarm! Something has gone wrong! What is she doing out there naked? Stop the show! A terrible mistake has been made! Quick! Get the Emperor’s attention before it’s too late! Right?
william23
Magistrate
Deceived!
The queue in front of Velda was edging ever so closer to the bright opening. The screams and groans, from the prisoners, was increasing in volume and the noise from the crowd was deafening. The first prisoner was pushed through the gate and out onto the scarlet sand. The crowd cheers and hoots with laughter at the pathetic figure and throw rotten fruit at him to catch his attention. The prisoner is too wrapped up in his own predicament to worry about the fruit raining down on his naked torso. Soon, another prisoner enters the stage, closely followed by several more under the constant lash of the whip. Velda edges ever closer to her final destination, only four more in front and then she will be on view to the thousands. Then suddenly the bright light hits her and tears run down her cheeks but she is unable to wipe them as her outstretched arms are well secured. Her eyes sting from the salt in her tears as she is led around the arena to the cheering throng.
The walk seems endless and the hot sand is burning the soles of her bare feet. At last the procession stops and Velda sinks to her knees, she peers up and see's the Emperor standing and taking in the spectacle before him. Velda squints through her dark blue eyes and she can see her mother, father and brother to the right of the royal box.
She screams, "Father! help me, it's Velda, help me!" her voice sounded feeble against the volume of the crowd but her father heard her and looked her straight in the eyes. There was no sadness or feeling in his eyes, he did not blink or show any compassion instead he looked away and faced the Emperor. The Emperor turned and smiled at Marcus, he threw a bag over to Marcus and he caught it firmly in his hand. Marcus opened the bag and tipped the contents into his other hand. Silver coins flowed out and one or two fell onto the stone steps.
"Father?" spoke Paulus, "what is going on? please save my sister, there has been a horrible mistake. Father, why don't you listen to me?" His voice was hesitant but also assertive.
"Listen to me," responded Marcus, "I have enough money in this bag for us to live very comfortably and there is more if I wish. Our Emperor wanted a show of beauty and I have delivered it to him by giving up my beautiful daughter. She has pride of place in front of her Emperor, I just hope she puts on a good show when she is crucified.
"Father, how could you?" shouted Paulus, "don't sacrifice your own daughter for money, for god's sake!"
"Shut up or you will join her, take heed of my words Paulus or you to will feel the nails, now shut the fuck up!" The words were met with an icy stare from Marcus as he waved in gratitude to his Emperor.
The crucifixions were about to begin and slaves made their way, in groups of four, to their victims.
To be continued.........................
The queue in front of Velda was edging ever so closer to the bright opening. The screams and groans, from the prisoners, was increasing in volume and the noise from the crowd was deafening. The first prisoner was pushed through the gate and out onto the scarlet sand. The crowd cheers and hoots with laughter at the pathetic figure and throw rotten fruit at him to catch his attention. The prisoner is too wrapped up in his own predicament to worry about the fruit raining down on his naked torso. Soon, another prisoner enters the stage, closely followed by several more under the constant lash of the whip. Velda edges ever closer to her final destination, only four more in front and then she will be on view to the thousands. Then suddenly the bright light hits her and tears run down her cheeks but she is unable to wipe them as her outstretched arms are well secured. Her eyes sting from the salt in her tears as she is led around the arena to the cheering throng.
The walk seems endless and the hot sand is burning the soles of her bare feet. At last the procession stops and Velda sinks to her knees, she peers up and see's the Emperor standing and taking in the spectacle before him. Velda squints through her dark blue eyes and she can see her mother, father and brother to the right of the royal box.
She screams, "Father! help me, it's Velda, help me!" her voice sounded feeble against the volume of the crowd but her father heard her and looked her straight in the eyes. There was no sadness or feeling in his eyes, he did not blink or show any compassion instead he looked away and faced the Emperor. The Emperor turned and smiled at Marcus, he threw a bag over to Marcus and he caught it firmly in his hand. Marcus opened the bag and tipped the contents into his other hand. Silver coins flowed out and one or two fell onto the stone steps.
"Father?" spoke Paulus, "what is going on? please save my sister, there has been a horrible mistake. Father, why don't you listen to me?" His voice was hesitant but also assertive.
"Listen to me," responded Marcus, "I have enough money in this bag for us to live very comfortably and there is more if I wish. Our Emperor wanted a show of beauty and I have delivered it to him by giving up my beautiful daughter. She has pride of place in front of her Emperor, I just hope she puts on a good show when she is crucified.
"Father, how could you?" shouted Paulus, "don't sacrifice your own daughter for money, for god's sake!"
"Shut up or you will join her, take heed of my words Paulus or you to will feel the nails, now shut the fuck up!" The words were met with an icy stare from Marcus as he waved in gratitude to his Emperor.
The crucifixions were about to begin and slaves made their way, in groups of four, to their victims.
To be continued.........................
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
I have never seen before such a bold demonstration of Roman patriarchy! The 'pater familias' ruling, and even owing the lives of his wife and children.
william23
Magistrate
Mass Crucifixion
The highlight of the day was fast approaching its conclusion and the arena was a buzz of anticipation. Paulus mother gripped Marcus by the arm, "you bastard, why?" and she punched him hard in the chest. Marcus grabbed her arms and fixed his eyes on hers.
"You fucking know why, you bitch!" he snarled, "that trash down there is not my daughter. Everyone knows your past, once a slut always a slut."
She managed to free an arm and slapped him hard around his face, leaving finger marks glowing red on his cheek.
"You will pay for that, you slut, my Emperor," he yelled, "have you space for one more, I am sure that mother and daughter would like to be close together." Marcus gestured to a couple of guards who came over and seized his wife and dragged her screaming down the cold stone steps. Paulus was gripped with fear and kept very quiet as his father turned and looked at him.
"Well, have you anything to say, I am sure we could accomodate another cross if need be?"
"No father, I have nothing to say," and he sat down and took in the event about to unfold.
By this time his mother was now being dragged across the sands to her daughter who was being held in a vice like grip by the soldiers.
"Oh mother, what is happening?" she pleaded.
"Your bastard father has given us up to the rabble, I am so, so sorry. I will be with you to the end, try and be brave and don't struggle when the nails are driven."
Just then the sound of iron being pounded into flesh reverberated around the arena along with the high pitched screams of the tortured souls being nailed down. Two slaves held Velda down and checked to make sure the ropes were tight on her arms. A wicked spike was picked up and placed against the heel of the hand.
"Craaack!" the hammer fell and Velda screamed her head off and kicked her rosy heels in the sand. She pissed herself but did not lose conciousness as they usually do. The hammering continued and her mother was wailing with her hands covering her ears to try and blot out the sound. The nailing was over very quick and soon the lithe body was being lifted up as two slaves climbed up short ladders to fit the crossbeam on the upright. The joint was a perfect fit and soon the gentle body hung by the nailed wrists and ropes that held her to the wood. Now Velda was just moaning as she swayed on the cross but the pain continued as two more spikes were hammered expertly into the heels to leave her beautifully displayed for the Emperor.
Velda's mother was stripped naked and shown to the Emperor who signaled for the wretched women to be hung on the reverse of her daughter's cross. The slaves struggled but managed to lift the women, with the aid of extra ladders, up to where her daughters arms were bound. They tied her arms in place and took two more nails and drove them into her quivering flesh. Once again the screams came loud and hard and her daughter moaned as the cross shook and sent spasms of pain down her arms. When they were satisfied she was fixed well they sent to work on her feet and drove one nail into each foot between the tiny bones of her toes. The slaves then removed all the rope to leave mother and daughter to hang in torment, together, from the sharp edges of the spikes.
To be continued................
The highlight of the day was fast approaching its conclusion and the arena was a buzz of anticipation. Paulus mother gripped Marcus by the arm, "you bastard, why?" and she punched him hard in the chest. Marcus grabbed her arms and fixed his eyes on hers.
"You fucking know why, you bitch!" he snarled, "that trash down there is not my daughter. Everyone knows your past, once a slut always a slut."
She managed to free an arm and slapped him hard around his face, leaving finger marks glowing red on his cheek.
"You will pay for that, you slut, my Emperor," he yelled, "have you space for one more, I am sure that mother and daughter would like to be close together." Marcus gestured to a couple of guards who came over and seized his wife and dragged her screaming down the cold stone steps. Paulus was gripped with fear and kept very quiet as his father turned and looked at him.
"Well, have you anything to say, I am sure we could accomodate another cross if need be?"
"No father, I have nothing to say," and he sat down and took in the event about to unfold.
By this time his mother was now being dragged across the sands to her daughter who was being held in a vice like grip by the soldiers.
"Oh mother, what is happening?" she pleaded.
"Your bastard father has given us up to the rabble, I am so, so sorry. I will be with you to the end, try and be brave and don't struggle when the nails are driven."
Just then the sound of iron being pounded into flesh reverberated around the arena along with the high pitched screams of the tortured souls being nailed down. Two slaves held Velda down and checked to make sure the ropes were tight on her arms. A wicked spike was picked up and placed against the heel of the hand.
"Craaack!" the hammer fell and Velda screamed her head off and kicked her rosy heels in the sand. She pissed herself but did not lose conciousness as they usually do. The hammering continued and her mother was wailing with her hands covering her ears to try and blot out the sound. The nailing was over very quick and soon the lithe body was being lifted up as two slaves climbed up short ladders to fit the crossbeam on the upright. The joint was a perfect fit and soon the gentle body hung by the nailed wrists and ropes that held her to the wood. Now Velda was just moaning as she swayed on the cross but the pain continued as two more spikes were hammered expertly into the heels to leave her beautifully displayed for the Emperor.
Velda's mother was stripped naked and shown to the Emperor who signaled for the wretched women to be hung on the reverse of her daughter's cross. The slaves struggled but managed to lift the women, with the aid of extra ladders, up to where her daughters arms were bound. They tied her arms in place and took two more nails and drove them into her quivering flesh. Once again the screams came loud and hard and her daughter moaned as the cross shook and sent spasms of pain down her arms. When they were satisfied she was fixed well they sent to work on her feet and drove one nail into each foot between the tiny bones of her toes. The slaves then removed all the rope to leave mother and daughter to hang in torment, together, from the sharp edges of the spikes.
To be continued................
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
A really nasty and rancurous patriarch!
william23
Magistrate
I thought I would add a twist with the mother ending up on the cross as well, hope you are not too disappointed.I have to say here that I saw this one coming
Dad seems to have money... He should be safe...I wonder if the Emperor will decide to make a full hand of it, and crucify dad as well?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Even with Paulus crucified, the Emperor misses one for a Full House, but he can claim a Four of a Kind then, and that beats a Full House! And who will dare beating the Emperor?I wonder if the Emperor will decide to make a full hand of it, and crucify dad as well?
william23
Magistrate
Nigh time Approaches
The games were in full swing, the crucified had been hanging for almost an hour. The crowds had been busy throwing their rotten fruit at the twisting and writhing bodies pinned to the wood in front of them. Every now and then the missile would hit its target by bouncing off an erect penis or wobbling a nice plump breast, this would produce a cheer and laughter. The poor unfortunate victims were oblivious to the sport the crowds were having as they needed to concentrate in shifting the pain from wrists to ankles. The Emperor was also having fun by taunting his young beautiful victim nailed in front of him.
"How are you doing my sweet little thing?" he shouted, "how many more times can you rise on the sharp edge of the spikes in your heels, eh?"
Velda moaned as, once more, she pushed on the iron fixing her feet to the wood and pulled on the spikes holding her wrists. The Emperor watched with interest as her calf muscles quivered with the strain and her toes widened as she gulped in air at the top of her rise. Then she sank back down and her legs splayed open to reveal her neatly shaved cunt with tender pink lips on full view. Velda's mother was also in the throes of rising and falling on her side of the cross. She would squeal as the wood splintered in the pale skin of her back.
Paulus could only sit and watch the agony of his mother and supposed sister as they tossed and twisted and screamed in terrible agony. Marcus was on his feet and trying to catch the young girl's attention until finally their eyes met. Velda had tears in her eyes whereas Marcus was staring with a grin on his face.
"At last I am rid of the two of you for once and for all and I have been paid as well, that is a result," he screamed.
Marcus looked around the giant arena and surveyed how the other crucified were doing. Most were doing the crucifixion dance in order to stay alive, whereas others were being made to breathe with the help of red hot irons. If a man or woman was trying to avoid a long drawn out death by just hanging by the wrists a slave would touch their skin with the iron. This would get an immediate effect and stir the victim to move and gulp in air. These victims would not die until the fires were lit.
Marcus could see the cart carrying timber being wheeled out into the arena along with the tar buckets. Before the wood was piled the victims would have to have the bottom half of their bodies soaked in tar. This would ensure that they would burn brightly and also add some warmth although the smell would be very overpowering. The slaves went about the work quickly by soaking rags, covered in pitch, and using long poles to coat the skin of the crucified. The men and women would howl as the pitch entered the wounds in their spiked feet and also when attention was paid to their genitals.
The Emperor beckoned Marcus over to him and whispered in his ear. Meanwhile, Velda and her mother were panting on their crosses, blood slowly dripping from their hands and feet. Then Velda could feel the sticky pitch being applied to her shapely feet and legs but then it was violently thrust into her cunt which made her scream in pain. She looked down and saw Marcus prodding her with the pitching pole.
"Bet you like this up you eh, nice eh," as he pushed harder and higher. Velda squealed and tried to push up on her spiked heels to avoid the intrusion but the pole was longer and soon found the soft folds of her sex again and again.
"Stop it, you bastard, stop it," screamed her mother.
"Don't worry you are next for this treatment," he yelled, as he applied the final coat of pitch to Velda's thighs.
Marcus walked around and faced his wife, he dipped the rag in the pitch and smeared it all over her hairy cunt.
"That should look good when the flames reach your hair," he sneered.
"Now lets put some on your legs and your feet," he continued, "jump well when you feel the heat,"and he threw the pole down and made his way back to the stands.
The entertainment continued in and out of the forest of crosses. There was more screaming and sizzling as the irons were applied to keep the crucified moving. Slaves were busy placing wood and brush around the foot of the crosses and sometimes tying it to the base. A lit torch would burn close to the crosses ready for the lighting to be done. Each cross was asigned a slave who would ignite the timbers when the signal was given. The slave next to Velda was lucky, he would oversee two naked female bodies twist as they try and escape the flames.
A trumpet sounded, which signified the slaves to raise their torches high in the early evening sky.
Velda looked down, "please, please," she begged, "have mercy on my mother and I, we suffer here for no reason, you are kind, you can take us and do what you want with us. I am a good fuck and so is my mother."
The slave laughed and looked up, "I know she is, I fucked her only last week but I had to pay, now I want my change!"
The signal was given and the torches were plunged into the kindling around each cross. Flames started to flare up and lick at the toes of the crucified. The pitch started to catch fire and soon flames were shooting up the legs and thighs of the crucified. The spikes held well and there was no escape from the searing agony. Both Velda and her mother shrieked in the flames along with all the others. The blood that had seeped from their spiked feet was bubbling in the intense heat. Death would be soon but not without extreme agony as all the bodies thrashed around in the pyres. The crowds cheered and choked in the smoke, whilst others covered their nostrils from the terrible smell of burning flesh. Soon the screams dies away and the only sound was the gentle crackling of the brush as the flames died down. All that was left, in the arena, were about fifty charred and smouldering crucified bodies.
The End
The games were in full swing, the crucified had been hanging for almost an hour. The crowds had been busy throwing their rotten fruit at the twisting and writhing bodies pinned to the wood in front of them. Every now and then the missile would hit its target by bouncing off an erect penis or wobbling a nice plump breast, this would produce a cheer and laughter. The poor unfortunate victims were oblivious to the sport the crowds were having as they needed to concentrate in shifting the pain from wrists to ankles. The Emperor was also having fun by taunting his young beautiful victim nailed in front of him.
"How are you doing my sweet little thing?" he shouted, "how many more times can you rise on the sharp edge of the spikes in your heels, eh?"
Velda moaned as, once more, she pushed on the iron fixing her feet to the wood and pulled on the spikes holding her wrists. The Emperor watched with interest as her calf muscles quivered with the strain and her toes widened as she gulped in air at the top of her rise. Then she sank back down and her legs splayed open to reveal her neatly shaved cunt with tender pink lips on full view. Velda's mother was also in the throes of rising and falling on her side of the cross. She would squeal as the wood splintered in the pale skin of her back.
Paulus could only sit and watch the agony of his mother and supposed sister as they tossed and twisted and screamed in terrible agony. Marcus was on his feet and trying to catch the young girl's attention until finally their eyes met. Velda had tears in her eyes whereas Marcus was staring with a grin on his face.
"At last I am rid of the two of you for once and for all and I have been paid as well, that is a result," he screamed.
Marcus looked around the giant arena and surveyed how the other crucified were doing. Most were doing the crucifixion dance in order to stay alive, whereas others were being made to breathe with the help of red hot irons. If a man or woman was trying to avoid a long drawn out death by just hanging by the wrists a slave would touch their skin with the iron. This would get an immediate effect and stir the victim to move and gulp in air. These victims would not die until the fires were lit.
Marcus could see the cart carrying timber being wheeled out into the arena along with the tar buckets. Before the wood was piled the victims would have to have the bottom half of their bodies soaked in tar. This would ensure that they would burn brightly and also add some warmth although the smell would be very overpowering. The slaves went about the work quickly by soaking rags, covered in pitch, and using long poles to coat the skin of the crucified. The men and women would howl as the pitch entered the wounds in their spiked feet and also when attention was paid to their genitals.
The Emperor beckoned Marcus over to him and whispered in his ear. Meanwhile, Velda and her mother were panting on their crosses, blood slowly dripping from their hands and feet. Then Velda could feel the sticky pitch being applied to her shapely feet and legs but then it was violently thrust into her cunt which made her scream in pain. She looked down and saw Marcus prodding her with the pitching pole.
"Bet you like this up you eh, nice eh," as he pushed harder and higher. Velda squealed and tried to push up on her spiked heels to avoid the intrusion but the pole was longer and soon found the soft folds of her sex again and again.
"Stop it, you bastard, stop it," screamed her mother.
"Don't worry you are next for this treatment," he yelled, as he applied the final coat of pitch to Velda's thighs.
Marcus walked around and faced his wife, he dipped the rag in the pitch and smeared it all over her hairy cunt.
"That should look good when the flames reach your hair," he sneered.
"Now lets put some on your legs and your feet," he continued, "jump well when you feel the heat,"and he threw the pole down and made his way back to the stands.
The entertainment continued in and out of the forest of crosses. There was more screaming and sizzling as the irons were applied to keep the crucified moving. Slaves were busy placing wood and brush around the foot of the crosses and sometimes tying it to the base. A lit torch would burn close to the crosses ready for the lighting to be done. Each cross was asigned a slave who would ignite the timbers when the signal was given. The slave next to Velda was lucky, he would oversee two naked female bodies twist as they try and escape the flames.
A trumpet sounded, which signified the slaves to raise their torches high in the early evening sky.
Velda looked down, "please, please," she begged, "have mercy on my mother and I, we suffer here for no reason, you are kind, you can take us and do what you want with us. I am a good fuck and so is my mother."
The slave laughed and looked up, "I know she is, I fucked her only last week but I had to pay, now I want my change!"
The signal was given and the torches were plunged into the kindling around each cross. Flames started to flare up and lick at the toes of the crucified. The pitch started to catch fire and soon flames were shooting up the legs and thighs of the crucified. The spikes held well and there was no escape from the searing agony. Both Velda and her mother shrieked in the flames along with all the others. The blood that had seeped from their spiked feet was bubbling in the intense heat. Death would be soon but not without extreme agony as all the bodies thrashed around in the pyres. The crowds cheered and choked in the smoke, whilst others covered their nostrils from the terrible smell of burning flesh. Soon the screams dies away and the only sound was the gentle crackling of the brush as the flames died down. All that was left, in the arena, were about fifty charred and smouldering crucified bodies.
The End
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