The Queen seems to be subject to a few mood swings.Alice in Perpetual Torment - Part 5
“Move it bitch.” Alice had been shocked by the sudden severity of the Queen’s words, especially after they had made love. And ‘making love’ was what it had felt like. Soft, gentle, loving, mutual in its pleasure … and then the words “It is time to crucify you!”
Alice had been unceremoniously taken from Queen Helios’s bedchamber, and led by a chain placed around her neck back into the woodland, which, now that the day was older, was drenched in sunshine and an almost stifling heat. A number of Amazonian Crossbows were trained upon her naked body as she was forced deeper into the undergrowth, to the place where a large wooden cross, fashioned from oak trunks, awaited her arrival.
The chain around her neck was removed and the poor, hapless captive was laid upon it, before being secured in what was a now very familiar manner.
"Raise her," one of the female warriors says.
It is heavy, the cross, and it takes all four attendant girls to lift it. As it rises up, Alice’s body slides down the upright and her wrists wrench in their clamps.
"Oh Fuck!" She cries as the pain in her wrists is joined suddenly by spearing pain through her arms as her full weight once more wrenches onto them.
An instant later she screams as the whole cross seems to lurch forward, at the same time dropping into the post-hole dug out earlier in preparation.
There is an alarming thump and Alice’s body jerks violently on her bound wrists, swinging forward, hanging freely. It feels like her shoulders have immediately dislocated and she lets out another scream.
Alice is hanging by her wrists from the crossbar. She is clearly in panic, her feet search for anchorage or support, scrabbling backwards for the post.
"Stop struggling so much girl," guidance is issued by one of the girls holding the cross still, so that they can ensure that the earth that has now been packed around the base holds it in place.
It is good advice however, as the continuous movement from the mounted girl swings her body about and tears heavily at the rope around her wrists sending pain along her arms and through her chest. She lets out another scream.
But her begging and pleading means nothing. Every movement is pain, until she finally finds a way to brace her bare feet against the wood of the cross, pushing against the tight ankle ropes and relieving a little of the weight on her arms. It is enough for her to catch a breath, although by now the sweat is streaming from her perspiring skin.
Finally, the cross is secured. Alice is fighting to keep her composure. It seems pointless to struggle and fight, but the pain will not let her settle.
Her feet slip off the wood against which they pushed making Alice twist and writhe, trying to get my feet free of their binding, but the knots are too good. They are secure, very much so.
"Oh, please," she moans, finally.
Alice tips her head back, trying to drive it against the upright and daze herself in order to escape the pain; but she can barely even touch her head to it, let alone hit it with any force.
She has been rendered totally helpless … again.
Alice is crucified. Hanging once more on a cross by her bound wrists, dripping sweat, her ordeal compounded by pain and the heat of the sun on her body.
Her naked body.
She can do nothing. Alice is mounted on this heavy oaken crossbar, her feet crossed and tied. Her arms and across her shoulders are screaming pain and getting worse by the minute.
The agony, the heat, the terror, each one is unbearable in its own right.
Her poor joints are seizing up with the stretching, tearing strain of being hung, hot pain flashes through the bones, along her shoulders, then down her sides and back.
With the crushing weight on her wrists, and her feet so cruelly nullified from finding any sort of meaningful leverage, Alice cannot do anything to alleviate her agony.
“Please! Someone!” She cries out again as her head rolls on her stiffened neck, moving from one sweat-soaked shoulder to the other.
Evening brings no relief. Even though the sun has gone down a little, there is no air, no breeze to provide relief. She had had no water all day, and no food since the previous morning.
Her pain keeps her feeling unbearably hot, sweating continuously, as the insects begin to bite and buzz around her suffering body.
“It is time to take to take her down and return her to the Port Town. Her ship is ready to leave.”
Wow - poor Alice!She knew that she was losing her conscious mind, but she also knew that they would let her die. These brutes enjoyed what they did to her far too much.
And alone, hanging by ropes, crucified on the ship’s rigging, abandoned and forgotten. Her body naked, without strength, suspended like a dead-weight, her chest spasmed again as her gasps drew less and less air, the blackness closed in.
And thank you bobinder for your continued support and excellent analysis. I have thoroughly enjoyed producing this series and it has only further cemented Alice's place in my heart ...Wow - poor Alice!
After all she has been through, she missed her final opportunity to escape.
And now she has come full circle, back to the ship's rigging, where the tragedy of her 'perpetual torment' began.
I never did trust that Captain and his crew...
A dramatic denouement, with a detailed account of suffering by degrees, and spectacular illustrations revealing a veritable orgy of destruction! Against the backgrounds of the burning town, the crux figures include adaptations of Makar sources, including a composite created by Damian, in addition to a Rylsky portrait from the 'Geffi' series.
The production of this story evidently represents a lot of work, and the result is an original concept within the 'Alice Crux Story' genre. Well done, and thanks, Fossy!