Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Pp too prefers some foreplay before the pounding and nailing MalinOften I looove .. what foreplay is ..
Really if it all started and ended with the pounding ... it would all get the same at some point...
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Carfulena Delia
- Thread starter Marcius
- Start date
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Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Was the omission deliberate? Accidental? A Freudian slip perhaps?
Marcius
Tribune
Delia was certain they were about to lead her to the torture chamber. Instead the gaolers led her outside, into the small prison yard. It was already dark, and the yard was lit with flaming torches.
The man who had recognized her was there along with half a dozen soldiers, dressed in plain tunics yet recognizable as such by their army-issue belts. However, her attention was immediately drawn to the mechanism visible in the dim light behind them, a solid wooden beam supported by four tall legs, with pulleys fixed at either end.
The eculeus. The Roman rack.
‘There she is,’ observed a stocky legionary in his early fifties, easily the oldest of the men. ‘Get her over here, boys!’ The guards pushed her forwards, and in a few heartbeats his strong hands gripped Delia’s wrists. ‘Now, I’m going to unshackle you,’ he told her with a smile. ‘They say you’re one feisty filly, so I want to warn you, girl – don’t even think of pulling something on us ... Hui, boys, look at the glare she’s giving me! Come here!’
Two speculatores, the legionaries detached for service with the governor’s staff as guards and executioners, tightly squeezed Delia’s forearms.
‘Down on your knees, girl – down, I say!’ The old legionary dropped his avuncular manner. Delia knelt in the dust as she was told and waited while he unshackled her wrists.
‘Remember what I have told you, Silo,’ Crispus said sullenly. He was supposed to command an ala on the border by then instead of arranging slave executions. The only thing he wanted was to get the interrogation of the runaway done quickly. Moreover, the eques had gorged on food and drink at the governor’s dinner and was feeling full and tipsy.
The shackles landed in the dust with a thud. Silo, the old questionarius, nodded curtly, then asked the girl her name.
‘Carfulena Delia.’ She saw no point in denying it. Her voice did not shake.
‘Just Delia, slave!’ Tipsy or not, the comes was a stickler for legality. The girl raised her chin in defiance, then repeated her full name. Silo slapped Delia across her face hard enough to make her eyes water.
‘Very well. Strip her bare and get her on the eculeus,’ Crispus ordered.
Silo bent over to unfasten the clasps of her tunic, and in a heartbeat the garment pooled around her curvaceous hips. Having posed as a cheap whore, Delia wasn’t wearing a strophium, and the soldiers grinned lewdly at the sight of her bare torso, her full, high breasts rising and falling with each rapid breath. What a waste, thought Crispus as he felt his cock twitch.
Delia screamed in anguish as the legionaries started dragging her towards the eculeus. Her heart racing, she tried to kick out in the direction of Crispus, but her legs got tangled in the tunic. For her trouble the girl was slammed hard against the ground and pinned face down as rough hands yanked the garment down her legs.
Now naked, Delia felt someone squeezing and kneading the firm flesh of her buttocks. Figuring that there was not much to lose, she let fly a torrent of insults and kicked blindly behind her. The second hit connected with something soft, most likely a belly. Then her legs were gripped as well and she received half a dozen hard stinging slaps across her backside, the legionaries shouting obscenities at her. Delia responded in kind.
‘Enough, mates!’ Silo roared, putting the unexpected slanging-match between the wild girl from the City and the legion VII Gemina to an end. ‘Tie her up, and let’s get on with it! Work before play!’
Not looking forward to either, Delia fell silent as two speculatores bound her hands and feet with heavy ropes while the others had a good look at her slender back and pert bottom. Slaves were usually interrogated with the help of a whip, but tonight Crispus thought better of it. The next morning she was to be flogged in public, and he wanted her body unmarred by stripes for that. The eques glanced at Saturninus, a tall speculator from Numidia, all hard, lean muscle. Saturninus was to wield the whip tomorrow.
Tonight it was the eculeus for her. Tied up, Delia was rolled on to her back. The legionaries seized her by arms and hips and legs and lifted her in mid-air, then carelessly flung her on the beam face up. Several heartbeats later, they led the ropes over the pulleys and wound them over the rollers below.
Crispus nodded. Silo and Saturninus gripped the cross-shaped handles attached to the rollers and started turning them, taking the slack out of the ropes. The rope pulled at her wrists. Delia felt her arms straighten. She looked at the clear sky full of stars. A thought came into her mind as another rope tugged at her ankles and heels. The whole world is their torture-chamber.
‘You must have tried to set free the condemned latrones, girl,’ Silo began when he felt the resistance of her body. ‘Don’t even try to deny it. We know you were with them. They told me everything, the criminals who now feed the crows on the crosses outside the eastern gate. Oh, they described you very well. Sure, they knew you by your nickname. Yet the dominus here recognized you—’
‘Ask her what did she want to do to me, questionarius!’ Marullus butted in.
You don’t want to know that, gaoler, Delia thought, stretched tightly along the beam, her muscles fighting the tension in the ropes.
‘Go away, you fool! There are prisoners inside who need your attention!’ snarled Silo.
Marullus slunk away as Silo resumed the interrogation.
‘So here you are. But another two latrones did escape along with you. Now, where are they hiding?’
‘I don’t know,’ Delia answered through gritted teeth. She gasped as the ropes shortened. The pain in her shoulders and hips grew.
‘Who helped you?’
‘I was alone! Alone!’ She screamed the last word, her body being strained further by the savage pull of the ropes, her muscles burning with pain. She kept screaming it over and over so not to wail mindlessly as the torturers did their job.
‘She’s as tight as a Parthian bow-string now, comes’ Silo said to Crispus. ‘We’re going to pull her arms out of the sockets if we go on. You’ve told me not to.’
Crispus looked at the sweat-covered naked body on the beam, the awful strain being visible in Delia’s long limbs. He felt another pang of desire.
‘Try the hook, questionarius.’
Silo nodded. In a few heartbeats, a speculator fetched him an evil-looking two-pronged instrument.
‘Solaaaaa!’ the girl shouted when Silo dragged the hook lightly down the right side of her body.
*********
The Ides of March are upon us, and the story continues. I’ve been very busy in the last two months; the workload appears lighter now, and I hope that my Delia won’t suffer for months.
The man who had recognized her was there along with half a dozen soldiers, dressed in plain tunics yet recognizable as such by their army-issue belts. However, her attention was immediately drawn to the mechanism visible in the dim light behind them, a solid wooden beam supported by four tall legs, with pulleys fixed at either end.
The eculeus. The Roman rack.
‘There she is,’ observed a stocky legionary in his early fifties, easily the oldest of the men. ‘Get her over here, boys!’ The guards pushed her forwards, and in a few heartbeats his strong hands gripped Delia’s wrists. ‘Now, I’m going to unshackle you,’ he told her with a smile. ‘They say you’re one feisty filly, so I want to warn you, girl – don’t even think of pulling something on us ... Hui, boys, look at the glare she’s giving me! Come here!’
Two speculatores, the legionaries detached for service with the governor’s staff as guards and executioners, tightly squeezed Delia’s forearms.
‘Down on your knees, girl – down, I say!’ The old legionary dropped his avuncular manner. Delia knelt in the dust as she was told and waited while he unshackled her wrists.
‘Remember what I have told you, Silo,’ Crispus said sullenly. He was supposed to command an ala on the border by then instead of arranging slave executions. The only thing he wanted was to get the interrogation of the runaway done quickly. Moreover, the eques had gorged on food and drink at the governor’s dinner and was feeling full and tipsy.
The shackles landed in the dust with a thud. Silo, the old questionarius, nodded curtly, then asked the girl her name.
‘Carfulena Delia.’ She saw no point in denying it. Her voice did not shake.
‘Just Delia, slave!’ Tipsy or not, the comes was a stickler for legality. The girl raised her chin in defiance, then repeated her full name. Silo slapped Delia across her face hard enough to make her eyes water.
‘Very well. Strip her bare and get her on the eculeus,’ Crispus ordered.
Silo bent over to unfasten the clasps of her tunic, and in a heartbeat the garment pooled around her curvaceous hips. Having posed as a cheap whore, Delia wasn’t wearing a strophium, and the soldiers grinned lewdly at the sight of her bare torso, her full, high breasts rising and falling with each rapid breath. What a waste, thought Crispus as he felt his cock twitch.
Delia screamed in anguish as the legionaries started dragging her towards the eculeus. Her heart racing, she tried to kick out in the direction of Crispus, but her legs got tangled in the tunic. For her trouble the girl was slammed hard against the ground and pinned face down as rough hands yanked the garment down her legs.
Now naked, Delia felt someone squeezing and kneading the firm flesh of her buttocks. Figuring that there was not much to lose, she let fly a torrent of insults and kicked blindly behind her. The second hit connected with something soft, most likely a belly. Then her legs were gripped as well and she received half a dozen hard stinging slaps across her backside, the legionaries shouting obscenities at her. Delia responded in kind.
‘Enough, mates!’ Silo roared, putting the unexpected slanging-match between the wild girl from the City and the legion VII Gemina to an end. ‘Tie her up, and let’s get on with it! Work before play!’
Not looking forward to either, Delia fell silent as two speculatores bound her hands and feet with heavy ropes while the others had a good look at her slender back and pert bottom. Slaves were usually interrogated with the help of a whip, but tonight Crispus thought better of it. The next morning she was to be flogged in public, and he wanted her body unmarred by stripes for that. The eques glanced at Saturninus, a tall speculator from Numidia, all hard, lean muscle. Saturninus was to wield the whip tomorrow.
Tonight it was the eculeus for her. Tied up, Delia was rolled on to her back. The legionaries seized her by arms and hips and legs and lifted her in mid-air, then carelessly flung her on the beam face up. Several heartbeats later, they led the ropes over the pulleys and wound them over the rollers below.
Crispus nodded. Silo and Saturninus gripped the cross-shaped handles attached to the rollers and started turning them, taking the slack out of the ropes. The rope pulled at her wrists. Delia felt her arms straighten. She looked at the clear sky full of stars. A thought came into her mind as another rope tugged at her ankles and heels. The whole world is their torture-chamber.
‘You must have tried to set free the condemned latrones, girl,’ Silo began when he felt the resistance of her body. ‘Don’t even try to deny it. We know you were with them. They told me everything, the criminals who now feed the crows on the crosses outside the eastern gate. Oh, they described you very well. Sure, they knew you by your nickname. Yet the dominus here recognized you—’
‘Ask her what did she want to do to me, questionarius!’ Marullus butted in.
You don’t want to know that, gaoler, Delia thought, stretched tightly along the beam, her muscles fighting the tension in the ropes.
‘Go away, you fool! There are prisoners inside who need your attention!’ snarled Silo.
Marullus slunk away as Silo resumed the interrogation.
‘So here you are. But another two latrones did escape along with you. Now, where are they hiding?’
‘I don’t know,’ Delia answered through gritted teeth. She gasped as the ropes shortened. The pain in her shoulders and hips grew.
‘Who helped you?’
‘I was alone! Alone!’ She screamed the last word, her body being strained further by the savage pull of the ropes, her muscles burning with pain. She kept screaming it over and over so not to wail mindlessly as the torturers did their job.
‘She’s as tight as a Parthian bow-string now, comes’ Silo said to Crispus. ‘We’re going to pull her arms out of the sockets if we go on. You’ve told me not to.’
Crispus looked at the sweat-covered naked body on the beam, the awful strain being visible in Delia’s long limbs. He felt another pang of desire.
‘Try the hook, questionarius.’
Silo nodded. In a few heartbeats, a speculator fetched him an evil-looking two-pronged instrument.
‘Solaaaaa!’ the girl shouted when Silo dragged the hook lightly down the right side of her body.
*********
The Ides of March are upon us, and the story continues. I’ve been very busy in the last two months; the workload appears lighter now, and I hope that my Delia won’t suffer for months.
Good writing Marcius, we'll look forward to more.
I've always understood the Eculeus ('little horse') was a kind of Rack,
though this extract from an 1893 Classical Dictionary found on-line
and quoting an even older source, suggests an alternative view that it was a kind of 'Judas cradle':
Eculeus
or, less correctly, Equuleus. An instrument of torture commonly used at Rome in extracting evidence from slaves. It was a wooden horse, as the name implies, on which the sufferer was mounted and then stretched or racked with weights or pulleys (Plin. Ep. 67.3). Very little is really known about this and the other engines of torture among the Greeks and Romans. Cicero says that slaves accused of murder might expect the eculeus at the trial, the crux on conviction (Pro Mil. 21.57; 22.60). Seneca mentions as the usual modes of torture, fidiculae, talaria, eculeus, and ignis (De Ira, iii. 19.1).
Rich supposes the criminal to have been made to sit upon a sharp point with weights attached to his arms and legs, as shown in the illustration here given, representing an instrument of torture formerly used at Mirandola in Italy and, curiously enough, called “the colt” (il cavaletto).
Supposed form of Eculeus. (Rich.)
I've always understood the Eculeus ('little horse') was a kind of Rack,
though this extract from an 1893 Classical Dictionary found on-line
and quoting an even older source, suggests an alternative view that it was a kind of 'Judas cradle':
Eculeus
or, less correctly, Equuleus. An instrument of torture commonly used at Rome in extracting evidence from slaves. It was a wooden horse, as the name implies, on which the sufferer was mounted and then stretched or racked with weights or pulleys (Plin. Ep. 67.3). Very little is really known about this and the other engines of torture among the Greeks and Romans. Cicero says that slaves accused of murder might expect the eculeus at the trial, the crux on conviction (Pro Mil. 21.57; 22.60). Seneca mentions as the usual modes of torture, fidiculae, talaria, eculeus, and ignis (De Ira, iii. 19.1).
Rich supposes the criminal to have been made to sit upon a sharp point with weights attached to his arms and legs, as shown in the illustration here given, representing an instrument of torture formerly used at Mirandola in Italy and, curiously enough, called “the colt” (il cavaletto).
Supposed form of Eculeus. (Rich.)
Marcius
Tribune
I knew the horsey would be questioned (heh) by the Romanists here! 
I followed Gallonio; at least the chap lived when things like these were in daily use.
The following is a quotation and an illustration from his Tortures and Torments of the Christian Martyrs; I think that its first sentence remains true 400 + years later.
'With regard to the use of the wooden horse as an instrument of torture, the various writers are all agreed — but not so concerning its precise description and exact form. For some have declared in so many words that it was a red-hot plate of metal; others a sort of rack by means of which a man was suspended with hands tied above his head and with heavy weights attached to both feet.
'Others again, Sigonius among them, and many religious authors who have followed him, hold it to have been a sort of wooden framework provided with pulleys and adapted, alternately, for stretching and relaxing, and intended for torturing people and compelling them to tell the truth about some circumstance:
'"Now the nature of this torture," he says, "was as follows. After binding the arms and legs of the person to be tortured to this frame by means of small thongs known as fiddle strings, they then extended the framework and set it upright, so that the victim found himself suspended upon it, as on a cross. This done, they proceeded in the first place to force apart all the joints and articulations of his limbs; then the placed red-hot plates close to his body, and last of all tore his sides with two-pronged iron hooks ..."
'On the contrary, others maintain that it was merely a wooden contrivance fashioned something like a horse (as we will explain further on), having two channeled wheels, or pulleys, fixed at either end in hollows made to receive them, and capable of being revolved upon their pins or axles. Over these, ropes were led in such a way that accused persons could be fastened to them, and so tortured through being racked and stretched.
'These, then, are the various opinions held by different writers concerning the Wooden Horse. Given this diversity of opinion, we can only arrive at a genuine understanding of the actual nature of this device if the evidence is very carefully considered. Upon examining the first of these opinions, we find it the least compelling . For how can we suppose the "horse" itself to have been a red-hot plate, when we read in almost anyHistory of the Martyrs, as well as in the works of other ancient authors, of men beingfirst hoisted on the horse and once there, then being burned with red-hot plates?
'The second and third opinions concerning the nature and construction of this device, can also be conclusively discredited. How possibly can the facts that our predecessors have presented in their writings about the wooden horse be made to accord with these conjectures? They cannot. Indeed, we will now demonstrate that the last quoted opinion alone authentically accords with the facts. This view may be restated for the sake of clarity as such:
'The "horse" in antiquity was an engine of wood fashioned to resemble a real horse, having two small, channeled wheels, or pulleys, situated at both ends which were hollowed out to receive them. Over the axles of these wheels or pulleys, ropes were led, and the wheels revolved, by which means the person tied to them was racked and stretched in various directions.
'To understand this more clearly, let us examine how the ancients constructed this device we call the wooden horse. To begin with, they prepared a straight beam of wood of a convenient length and breadth; into the two ends of this, which they had previously hollowed out somewhat, they attached small channeled wheels that turned upon axles. In order to raise the entire device above the ground, they used four other pieces of timber, shorter and thinner than the first, which they then fastened with iron nails near the four corners, and so constructed a mechanical device standing on four legs and somewhat resembling a real horse.
'Once completed, the victim to be tortured was placed upon its back and had his two legs forcibly drawn apart. The tormentors then took ropes, one binding the tied the man's feet, and the other his hands after they had twisted the latter behind him. Next, leading these ropes over the small wheels or pulleys and carrying them to a small device much like a winch or windlass (we conjecture) that was attached to the "horse's legs, they wound the ropes around it and turning it round, drew the bonds taut in such a way that the man, tied with his back to the horse's back and his face looking skywards, was then stretched along with them. Thus they would continue turning the winch, drawing the ropes tighter and tighter, until every limb was strained and every joint dislocated.'
I followed Gallonio; at least the chap lived when things like these were in daily use.
The following is a quotation and an illustration from his Tortures and Torments of the Christian Martyrs; I think that its first sentence remains true 400 + years later.
'With regard to the use of the wooden horse as an instrument of torture, the various writers are all agreed — but not so concerning its precise description and exact form. For some have declared in so many words that it was a red-hot plate of metal; others a sort of rack by means of which a man was suspended with hands tied above his head and with heavy weights attached to both feet.
'Others again, Sigonius among them, and many religious authors who have followed him, hold it to have been a sort of wooden framework provided with pulleys and adapted, alternately, for stretching and relaxing, and intended for torturing people and compelling them to tell the truth about some circumstance:
'"Now the nature of this torture," he says, "was as follows. After binding the arms and legs of the person to be tortured to this frame by means of small thongs known as fiddle strings, they then extended the framework and set it upright, so that the victim found himself suspended upon it, as on a cross. This done, they proceeded in the first place to force apart all the joints and articulations of his limbs; then the placed red-hot plates close to his body, and last of all tore his sides with two-pronged iron hooks ..."
'On the contrary, others maintain that it was merely a wooden contrivance fashioned something like a horse (as we will explain further on), having two channeled wheels, or pulleys, fixed at either end in hollows made to receive them, and capable of being revolved upon their pins or axles. Over these, ropes were led in such a way that accused persons could be fastened to them, and so tortured through being racked and stretched.
'These, then, are the various opinions held by different writers concerning the Wooden Horse. Given this diversity of opinion, we can only arrive at a genuine understanding of the actual nature of this device if the evidence is very carefully considered. Upon examining the first of these opinions, we find it the least compelling . For how can we suppose the "horse" itself to have been a red-hot plate, when we read in almost anyHistory of the Martyrs, as well as in the works of other ancient authors, of men beingfirst hoisted on the horse and once there, then being burned with red-hot plates?
'The second and third opinions concerning the nature and construction of this device, can also be conclusively discredited. How possibly can the facts that our predecessors have presented in their writings about the wooden horse be made to accord with these conjectures? They cannot. Indeed, we will now demonstrate that the last quoted opinion alone authentically accords with the facts. This view may be restated for the sake of clarity as such:
'The "horse" in antiquity was an engine of wood fashioned to resemble a real horse, having two small, channeled wheels, or pulleys, situated at both ends which were hollowed out to receive them. Over the axles of these wheels or pulleys, ropes were led, and the wheels revolved, by which means the person tied to them was racked and stretched in various directions.
'To understand this more clearly, let us examine how the ancients constructed this device we call the wooden horse. To begin with, they prepared a straight beam of wood of a convenient length and breadth; into the two ends of this, which they had previously hollowed out somewhat, they attached small channeled wheels that turned upon axles. In order to raise the entire device above the ground, they used four other pieces of timber, shorter and thinner than the first, which they then fastened with iron nails near the four corners, and so constructed a mechanical device standing on four legs and somewhat resembling a real horse.
'Once completed, the victim to be tortured was placed upon its back and had his two legs forcibly drawn apart. The tormentors then took ropes, one binding the tied the man's feet, and the other his hands after they had twisted the latter behind him. Next, leading these ropes over the small wheels or pulleys and carrying them to a small device much like a winch or windlass (we conjecture) that was attached to the "horse's legs, they wound the ropes around it and turning it round, drew the bonds taut in such a way that the man, tied with his back to the horse's back and his face looking skywards, was then stretched along with them. Thus they would continue turning the winch, drawing the ropes tighter and tighter, until every limb was strained and every joint dislocated.'
Attachments
Thanks Marius - yes I have seen that text and illustration I couldn't remember the source,
and even a reconstructed 'horse' like that (no, they wouldn't let me be tortured on it
)
I think it's very plausible, all the more so if (1) the torture entailed alternate stretching
and relaxing, so the victim's body suddenly dropped down, then was quickly hauled up and stretched again,
and (2) after, or in between, spasms of such torture, her strained flanks and legs
were torn with hooks and/or burnt (as reported in many accounts of martyrdom)
and even a reconstructed 'horse' like that (no, they wouldn't let me be tortured on it
)I think it's very plausible, all the more so if (1) the torture entailed alternate stretching
and relaxing, so the victim's body suddenly dropped down, then was quickly hauled up and stretched again,
and (2) after, or in between, spasms of such torture, her strained flanks and legs
were torn with hooks and/or burnt (as reported in many accounts of martyrdom)
Marcius
Tribune
Quite so, Gallonio's reconstruction appears plausible. Now, even in his times torture by stretching varied widely from country to country -- and from town to town, perhaps. Given that classical Roman authors weren't keen on describing executions and tortures in detail -- Cicero did write about crucifixion being too abhorrent for a Roman citizen even to think about, didn't he? -- and rarely went beyond mere enumeration of implements, the perfectionists are out of luck.
Tacitus goes a bit beyond in Ann. 15.57:
'In the meantime, Nero recollected that Epicharis was in custody on the information of Volusius Proculus; and, assuming that female flesh and blood must be unequal to the pain, he ordered her to be racked. But neither the lash nor fire, nor yet the anger of the torturers, who redoubled their efforts rather than be braved by a woman, broke down her denial of the allegations. Thus the first day of torment had been defied. On the next, as she was being dragged back in a chair to a repetition of the agony — her dislocated limbs were unable to support her — she fastened the breast-band (which she had stripped from her bosom) in a sort of noose to the canopy of the chair, thrust her neck into it, and, throwing the weight of her body into the effort, squeezed out such feeble breath as remained to her. An emancipated slave and a woman, by shielding, under this dire coercion, men unconnected with her and all but unknown, she had set an example which shone the brighter at a time when persons freeborn and male, Roman knights and senators, untouched by the torture, were betraying each his nearest and his dearest.'
Atque interim Nero recordatus Volusii Proculi indicio Epicharin attineri ratusque muliebre corpus impar dolori tormentis dilacerari iubet. at illam non verbera, non ignes, non ira eo acrius torquentium ne a femina spernerentur, pervicere quin obiecta denegaret. sic primus quaestionis dies contemptus. postero cum ad eosdem cruciatus retraheretur gestamine sellae (nam dissolutis membris insistere nequibat), vinclo fasciae, quam pectori detraxerat, in modum laquei ad arcum sellae restricto indidit cervicem et corporis pondere conisa tenuem iam spiritum expressit, clariore exemplo libertina mulier in tanta necessitate alienos ac prope ignotos protegendo, cum ingenui et viri et equites Romani senatoresque intacti tormentis carissima suorum quisque pignorum proderent.
There's nothing here against Gallonio's interpretation. As an aside, it shows Roman 'extraordinary justice' at work -- in the times of the Republic, it was beneath the dignity of major magistrates to deal with slaves and freedmen; here we have the princeps ordering interrogation of a liberta under torture. It's Nero, sure, but later emperors made rulings on various slave-related aspects of criminal and civil law as a matter of course. Thus my Delia ending up in the court of the city prefect in AD 118 and having her case reviewed by the Emperor is not too far-fetched. Of course, the extraordinary justice system fully replaced the ordinary by the early 3rd century.
Another aside: Epicharis did take the Salonina-recommended way out.
Tacitus goes a bit beyond in Ann. 15.57:
'In the meantime, Nero recollected that Epicharis was in custody on the information of Volusius Proculus; and, assuming that female flesh and blood must be unequal to the pain, he ordered her to be racked. But neither the lash nor fire, nor yet the anger of the torturers, who redoubled their efforts rather than be braved by a woman, broke down her denial of the allegations. Thus the first day of torment had been defied. On the next, as she was being dragged back in a chair to a repetition of the agony — her dislocated limbs were unable to support her — she fastened the breast-band (which she had stripped from her bosom) in a sort of noose to the canopy of the chair, thrust her neck into it, and, throwing the weight of her body into the effort, squeezed out such feeble breath as remained to her. An emancipated slave and a woman, by shielding, under this dire coercion, men unconnected with her and all but unknown, she had set an example which shone the brighter at a time when persons freeborn and male, Roman knights and senators, untouched by the torture, were betraying each his nearest and his dearest.'
Atque interim Nero recordatus Volusii Proculi indicio Epicharin attineri ratusque muliebre corpus impar dolori tormentis dilacerari iubet. at illam non verbera, non ignes, non ira eo acrius torquentium ne a femina spernerentur, pervicere quin obiecta denegaret. sic primus quaestionis dies contemptus. postero cum ad eosdem cruciatus retraheretur gestamine sellae (nam dissolutis membris insistere nequibat), vinclo fasciae, quam pectori detraxerat, in modum laquei ad arcum sellae restricto indidit cervicem et corporis pondere conisa tenuem iam spiritum expressit, clariore exemplo libertina mulier in tanta necessitate alienos ac prope ignotos protegendo, cum ingenui et viri et equites Romani senatoresque intacti tormentis carissima suorum quisque pignorum proderent.
There's nothing here against Gallonio's interpretation. As an aside, it shows Roman 'extraordinary justice' at work -- in the times of the Republic, it was beneath the dignity of major magistrates to deal with slaves and freedmen; here we have the princeps ordering interrogation of a liberta under torture. It's Nero, sure, but later emperors made rulings on various slave-related aspects of criminal and civil law as a matter of course. Thus my Delia ending up in the court of the city prefect in AD 118 and having her case reviewed by the Emperor is not too far-fetched. Of course, the extraordinary justice system fully replaced the ordinary by the early 3rd century.
Another aside: Epicharis did take the Salonina-recommended way out.
Again, thanks for giving us that material, certainly your story has a strong sense of well-researched historical credibility,
and your 'background' posts should be helpful to storytellers and artists here who want to get a feel of what it was really like,
as well as 'authentic' details. I'll post a link from our 'Roman Resources' thread.
and your 'background' posts should be helpful to storytellers and artists here who want to get a feel of what it was really like,
as well as 'authentic' details. I'll post a link from our 'Roman Resources' thread.
Marcius
Tribune
Two thin lines of blood welled up in the scratches.
‘Again.’ She’s just a slave, a puella defututa, but she’s strong.
Silo walked to the other side of the eculeus. This time the assault upon her tense flank was not so unexpected, and Delia stifled a cry.
‘Felix!’ Crispus made a swift downward motion with his hand. Another speculator took the place of Silo at the roller handle. Felix and Saturninus loosened the ropes, and Delia exhaled in relief as her heels settled on the wood with a thump.
‘Auh!’
A heartbeat later, the girl gasped when Silo roughly pushed her off the eculeus. Now her body was hung bent under the beam, her beautifully-formed breasts swaying as they dangled from her chest. Dark curls falling all over her face hid the leering soldiers from her eyes, but she couldn’t help but hear a new flood of obscenities.
Crispus bent forward slightly so that his cock wouldn’t be seen tenting the front of his tunic. The legionaries didn’t care that much about propriety.
‘Not much to write down so far,’ the heretofore silent commentariensis said quietly.
‘Huh? Ah well, Optatus... Don’t worry, we’ll sit down to make everything official tomorrow.’ Who cares if the girl says nothing, indeed? The governor wants the whole business over and done with. She might even be telling the truth. Nevertheless, duty is duty. As for the other two, the former gladiator and the Egyptian girl, we might well catch them anyway.
‘Certainly, comes.’ The near-sighted, pudgy commentariensis who had spent most of his service on the proconsular staff eyed the girl impassively. Female flesh held little interest for him.
Silo brushed her dishevelled tresses back from Delia’s face, stray tendrils of curly hair clinging to her sweaty skin.
‘One more time. Where are the other two?’
The captive said nothing, her eyes full of loathing.
Silo looked at Crispus, then stepped aside, removed one of the blazing torches from its holder and swiped the flame against her left armpit, tearing a sharp scream from Delia’s lips. Silo looked at the girl writhing in her restraints, her dark underarm hair smoking, then brought the torch to the armpit again.
Even as her sweat turned to steam and the coarse armpit hairs caught fire, Delia denied her torturer the satisfaction of drawing another shriek of pain out of her, groaning deeply through clenched teeth while she thrashed and bucked in mid-air.
‘Speak, slave!’ Crispus was looking her in the eyes.
‘I... I escaped alone. I didn’t know they did, too, until I heard the praeco here at the forum.’
‘Ah, so you've heard the praeco? Well, well, the praeco will have something to say about you tomorrow!’ I really should send an apparitor to the town-crier.
She met his gaze, her large, beautiful eyes filled with pain and despair and hate.
‘What did you think? That you were going to get away with it all?’
‘It would be daft to say that now,’ the girl had to show him that she wasn’t broken.
‘You have disdained the mercy of our mildest Emperor—’
‘Some mercy,’ Delia snorted.
‘Wickedest girl, how dare you scoff at the majesty of Roman peace?’
‘Try being buggered by miners night after night, eques... Aaaah!’ Silo’s torch seared the other armpit of hers as she tried to twist her body away.
‘Writhe, slave. You’ll be writhing on the cross tomorrow!’ Crispus looked at her tear-streaked face, enjoying the sight of her deeply tanned skin turning ashen. ‘Now, take her down!’
‘Again.’ She’s just a slave, a puella defututa, but she’s strong.
Silo walked to the other side of the eculeus. This time the assault upon her tense flank was not so unexpected, and Delia stifled a cry.
‘Felix!’ Crispus made a swift downward motion with his hand. Another speculator took the place of Silo at the roller handle. Felix and Saturninus loosened the ropes, and Delia exhaled in relief as her heels settled on the wood with a thump.
‘Auh!’
A heartbeat later, the girl gasped when Silo roughly pushed her off the eculeus. Now her body was hung bent under the beam, her beautifully-formed breasts swaying as they dangled from her chest. Dark curls falling all over her face hid the leering soldiers from her eyes, but she couldn’t help but hear a new flood of obscenities.
Crispus bent forward slightly so that his cock wouldn’t be seen tenting the front of his tunic. The legionaries didn’t care that much about propriety.
‘Not much to write down so far,’ the heretofore silent commentariensis said quietly.
‘Huh? Ah well, Optatus... Don’t worry, we’ll sit down to make everything official tomorrow.’ Who cares if the girl says nothing, indeed? The governor wants the whole business over and done with. She might even be telling the truth. Nevertheless, duty is duty. As for the other two, the former gladiator and the Egyptian girl, we might well catch them anyway.
‘Certainly, comes.’ The near-sighted, pudgy commentariensis who had spent most of his service on the proconsular staff eyed the girl impassively. Female flesh held little interest for him.
Silo brushed her dishevelled tresses back from Delia’s face, stray tendrils of curly hair clinging to her sweaty skin.
‘One more time. Where are the other two?’
The captive said nothing, her eyes full of loathing.
Silo looked at Crispus, then stepped aside, removed one of the blazing torches from its holder and swiped the flame against her left armpit, tearing a sharp scream from Delia’s lips. Silo looked at the girl writhing in her restraints, her dark underarm hair smoking, then brought the torch to the armpit again.
Even as her sweat turned to steam and the coarse armpit hairs caught fire, Delia denied her torturer the satisfaction of drawing another shriek of pain out of her, groaning deeply through clenched teeth while she thrashed and bucked in mid-air.
‘Speak, slave!’ Crispus was looking her in the eyes.
‘I... I escaped alone. I didn’t know they did, too, until I heard the praeco here at the forum.’
‘Ah, so you've heard the praeco? Well, well, the praeco will have something to say about you tomorrow!’ I really should send an apparitor to the town-crier.
She met his gaze, her large, beautiful eyes filled with pain and despair and hate.
‘What did you think? That you were going to get away with it all?’
‘It would be daft to say that now,’ the girl had to show him that she wasn’t broken.
‘You have disdained the mercy of our mildest Emperor—’
‘Some mercy,’ Delia snorted.
‘Wickedest girl, how dare you scoff at the majesty of Roman peace?’
‘Try being buggered by miners night after night, eques... Aaaah!’ Silo’s torch seared the other armpit of hers as she tried to twist her body away.
‘Writhe, slave. You’ll be writhing on the cross tomorrow!’ Crispus looked at her tear-streaked face, enjoying the sight of her deeply tanned skin turning ashen. ‘Now, take her down!’
Marcius
Tribune
Her mind reeling, Delia felt as if it was someone else whom the soldiers put back on the ground and whose legs were untied. She was doomed to die in the most horrible and degrading way, to suffer the awful torture of the cross.
And it was to happen tomorrow. Tomorrow four nails would pierce her flesh, nailing her to the timber for the rest of her short life. She stared dumbly at her bound wrists, then at her dusty bare feet.
Tomorrow?
‘Come on!’ Saturninus tugged at the rope.
Crispus glanced at the dazed girl being led towards the gaol. He had condemned enough women when he served as one of the legionary equestrian tribunes during the last years of the Parthian War, with rebellion flaring up in Mesopotamia and Judaea, and some of the fanatical Jewesses remained stonily calm all along – until the first blow of the flagrum. Yet Delia did impress him. Most slave-girls would have been wailing in terror and kissing my feet by now.
Still, the cross broke them all, and it would break her as well.
‘Me and the boys, we’re going to make the slave-girl “bear the yoke” tonight,’ Silo said to him, a wide smile on his lips. ‘Would you like to..?’
Bed-slave of the miners or not, he had to have her. Crispus nodded curtly and walked towards the gaol door into which the girl had just disappeared.
Inside the small torch-lit cell, the legionaries were dragging the old trestle-bed to put in the middle. Delia was looking fixedly at it, knowing that she was to be raped on this thing tonight. Still, the wooden contraption seemed almost innocuous when compared with the one awaiting her tomorrow. Her body had been abused many times in prison and the barracks of the miners, and she had learnt to withdraw inside herself, emerging from the self-imposed mental isolation only when the last man was done with her. She could take it one more time.
But who could say the same about the cross?
‘I’m off, brothers,’ Optatus peeked inside. ‘Er, have fun! Vale!’
The legionaries vale-ed in response, a couple of them adding a quiet ‘Pathicus!’
One fewer. Good. Delia thought.
‘Castus, Silvanus! Get her over here!’ Silo commanded. The two soldiers closest to her grabbed her shoulders and shoved her towards the bed where Silo and Saturninus made her lie on her back with her hips at the edge, her feet touching the cold flagstones. The free end of the rope was threaded through the ring in the wall behind her, and she felt her arms being pulled again, just like on the rack.
‘Don’t you worry, girl. No more stretching tonight,’ Silo reassured her. ‘Unless it’s stretching your cunnus – and culus,’ he added, making the soldiers laugh, then patted her bare breasts almost gently. ‘You just lie here and move your haunches!’
Utterly humiliated, Delia closed her eyes and lay still, her lovely face framed by the outstretched arms. Even covered with sweat and grime, she was a vision of beauty, and the men kept commenting lewdly on her naked body.
‘Those lips were made to wrap around my cock...’
‘Check out those tits, Castus, they almost don’t splay to the sides...’
‘Silo, old man, you should’ve burnt that thatch over her slit away while you were at it!’
‘I will, if she doesn’t behave!’
Delia groaned in disgust. Her lips started to tremble. A heartbeat later, Castus and Silvanus grasped her ankles and spread her legs wide for Crispus to step between them.
*********
The chapter is too long, I think, but it's going to end soon.
Legionary equestrian tribunes had not much to do, but courts-martial were supposed to be their job unless the legate of the legion or the governor himself pre-empted them.
And it was to happen tomorrow. Tomorrow four nails would pierce her flesh, nailing her to the timber for the rest of her short life. She stared dumbly at her bound wrists, then at her dusty bare feet.
Tomorrow?
‘Come on!’ Saturninus tugged at the rope.
Crispus glanced at the dazed girl being led towards the gaol. He had condemned enough women when he served as one of the legionary equestrian tribunes during the last years of the Parthian War, with rebellion flaring up in Mesopotamia and Judaea, and some of the fanatical Jewesses remained stonily calm all along – until the first blow of the flagrum. Yet Delia did impress him. Most slave-girls would have been wailing in terror and kissing my feet by now.
Still, the cross broke them all, and it would break her as well.
‘Me and the boys, we’re going to make the slave-girl “bear the yoke” tonight,’ Silo said to him, a wide smile on his lips. ‘Would you like to..?’
Bed-slave of the miners or not, he had to have her. Crispus nodded curtly and walked towards the gaol door into which the girl had just disappeared.
Inside the small torch-lit cell, the legionaries were dragging the old trestle-bed to put in the middle. Delia was looking fixedly at it, knowing that she was to be raped on this thing tonight. Still, the wooden contraption seemed almost innocuous when compared with the one awaiting her tomorrow. Her body had been abused many times in prison and the barracks of the miners, and she had learnt to withdraw inside herself, emerging from the self-imposed mental isolation only when the last man was done with her. She could take it one more time.
But who could say the same about the cross?
‘I’m off, brothers,’ Optatus peeked inside. ‘Er, have fun! Vale!’
The legionaries vale-ed in response, a couple of them adding a quiet ‘Pathicus!’
One fewer. Good. Delia thought.
‘Castus, Silvanus! Get her over here!’ Silo commanded. The two soldiers closest to her grabbed her shoulders and shoved her towards the bed where Silo and Saturninus made her lie on her back with her hips at the edge, her feet touching the cold flagstones. The free end of the rope was threaded through the ring in the wall behind her, and she felt her arms being pulled again, just like on the rack.
‘Don’t you worry, girl. No more stretching tonight,’ Silo reassured her. ‘Unless it’s stretching your cunnus – and culus,’ he added, making the soldiers laugh, then patted her bare breasts almost gently. ‘You just lie here and move your haunches!’
Utterly humiliated, Delia closed her eyes and lay still, her lovely face framed by the outstretched arms. Even covered with sweat and grime, she was a vision of beauty, and the men kept commenting lewdly on her naked body.
‘Those lips were made to wrap around my cock...’
‘Check out those tits, Castus, they almost don’t splay to the sides...’
‘Silo, old man, you should’ve burnt that thatch over her slit away while you were at it!’
‘I will, if she doesn’t behave!’
Delia groaned in disgust. Her lips started to tremble. A heartbeat later, Castus and Silvanus grasped her ankles and spread her legs wide for Crispus to step between them.
*********
The chapter is too long, I think, but it's going to end soon.
Legionary equestrian tribunes had not much to do, but courts-martial were supposed to be their job unless the legate of the legion or the governor himself pre-empted them.
Marcius
Tribune
Summer nights are short, and she isn't looking forward to tomorrow, not one little bit.It's not too long!
(Though Delia might not agree...)
Marcius
Tribune
Delia opened her eyes in time to see Crispus raising his tunic. Her captor was well endowed, yet Delia, ever defiant, pursed her lips in disdain.
The legionaries went quiet as Crispus bent over her, cold lust in his eyes. His hands slid over her taut, flat stomach up to her breasts. Feeling his touch and seeing him lick his thin lips, Delia shuddered in revulsion. Crispus grasped the plump mounds, kneading them roughly, pinching and twisting her dark nipples until the girl winced in pain. Hands hard on her breasts, squeezing out their warm satin skin between his fingers, the man shifted, and Delia felt the sticky heat of his cock-head on her nether lips. She tightened her legs in the unyielding grip of soldiers, and a traitorous tear ran down her cheek. Her body quivered.
Crispus thrust his hips, pressing into her, enjoying the sexual subjugation of the beautiful runaway. His straining cock was cleaving the dry flesh of her cunnus ever so slowly. She tried to twist her pelvis away, but Crispus squeezed down on her breasts even harder. Delia hissed in anguish. The man pulled back, then ground his hips into her, bringing her yet more pain. If the penetration was uncomfortable for Crispus, it was a fresh torture for the hapless girl.
Crispus pushed and pulled, his thrusts becoming deeper and deeper. Now her tears were flowing freely. The girl cringed at each merciless thrust, her face contorted in agony. Her distress served only to excite Crispus further. He was plunging into her with long strokes, cruelly moving his hips from side her side, raping her raw until she felt his hot seed spurt inside her.
Crispus pulled out and wiped his cock on her inner thighs. She retched, bringing out sour bile.
‘The slave’s all yours.’
Delia wept.
*********
The chapter is finished at last.
I don’t think that the destiny of a beautiful young damnata of her estate in the Roman Empire would have been much different from the one described; she would have suffered a lot before the day of execution, even leaving alone the unattested (as far as I know) custom of raping condemned women.
Although I'm thinking of another story where a couple of slave-girls do avoid the proverbial frying-pain, finding themselves in the fire, er, on the crosses almost right away.
The legionaries went quiet as Crispus bent over her, cold lust in his eyes. His hands slid over her taut, flat stomach up to her breasts. Feeling his touch and seeing him lick his thin lips, Delia shuddered in revulsion. Crispus grasped the plump mounds, kneading them roughly, pinching and twisting her dark nipples until the girl winced in pain. Hands hard on her breasts, squeezing out their warm satin skin between his fingers, the man shifted, and Delia felt the sticky heat of his cock-head on her nether lips. She tightened her legs in the unyielding grip of soldiers, and a traitorous tear ran down her cheek. Her body quivered.
Crispus thrust his hips, pressing into her, enjoying the sexual subjugation of the beautiful runaway. His straining cock was cleaving the dry flesh of her cunnus ever so slowly. She tried to twist her pelvis away, but Crispus squeezed down on her breasts even harder. Delia hissed in anguish. The man pulled back, then ground his hips into her, bringing her yet more pain. If the penetration was uncomfortable for Crispus, it was a fresh torture for the hapless girl.
Crispus pushed and pulled, his thrusts becoming deeper and deeper. Now her tears were flowing freely. The girl cringed at each merciless thrust, her face contorted in agony. Her distress served only to excite Crispus further. He was plunging into her with long strokes, cruelly moving his hips from side her side, raping her raw until she felt his hot seed spurt inside her.
Crispus pulled out and wiped his cock on her inner thighs. She retched, bringing out sour bile.
‘The slave’s all yours.’
Delia wept.
*********
The chapter is finished at last.
I don’t think that the destiny of a beautiful young damnata of her estate in the Roman Empire would have been much different from the one described; she would have suffered a lot before the day of execution, even leaving alone the unattested (as far as I know) custom of raping condemned women.
Although I'm thinking of another story where a couple of slave-girls do avoid the proverbial frying-pain, finding themselves in the fire, er, on the crosses almost right away.
malins
Stumbling Seeker
She's been through a lot and withstood it, there is no way she cannot know what is awaiting her ... but it's still unfathomable, as the last hours slip away... yes... nails...for her ... through the wrists and feet ... and that is only the start ...
I think we've had discussion, possibly stories,
about slaves on wealthy villa-estates being punished for one reason or another
by being tied on a cross for a day - I think there's some evidence
that was used as a way of discipline, and it has possibilities for stories
different from the standard crucifixion narrative.
(I like 'frying-pain'
)
Marcius
Tribune
Ah, that's a very good idea, I think I'm going to use it as a punishment that one of the girls underwent in the past, or something like that. Thank you!
The incomparable Jedakk employed this idea perfectly in the Lucilla subplot of The Serpent's Eye; I hope he develops it one day. The Lucilla story is within the realm of possibility, I'd say; I do not pretend that I am well-versed in Roman law, but I possess a certain (dilettantish) knowledge of it, and the statement that
Our ancestors, in inflicting every penalty, treated slaves more harshly than persons who are free; and they punished those who are notorious with greater severity than men of good reputation. (Digest 48. 19.28. 16 [Callistratus])
gives a lot of leeway to writers. An angry praetor investigating the killing in accordance with the Senatus Consultum Silanianum or the trio of 18-19-old senatorial sons who theoretically supervised all executions in the early imperial City of Rome (one hell of a way to begin public service
) might have had a bright idea to make poor Lucilla suffer above and beyond the ordinary.Me too. I noticed the Fry-dian slip, but quod scripsi, scripsi and all that.(I like 'frying-pain'
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I think we've had discussion, possibly stories,
about slaves on wealthy villa-estates being punished for one reason or another
by being tied on a cross for a day - I think there's some evidence
that was used as a way of discipline, and it has possibilities for stories
different from the standard crucifixion narrative.
(I like 'frying-pain'
See here:Ah, that's a very good idea, I think I'm going to use it as a punishment that one of the girls underwent in the past, or something like that. Thank you!
The incomparable Jedakk employed this idea perfectly in the Lucilla subplot of The Serpent's Eye; I hope he develops it one day. The Lucilla story is within the realm of possibility, I'd say; I do not pretend that I am well-versed in Roman law, but I possess a certain (dilettantish) knowledge of it, and the statement that
Our ancestors, in inflicting every penalty, treated slaves more harshly than persons who are free; and they punished those who are notorious with greater severity than men of good reputation. (Digest 48. 19.28. 16 [Callistratus])
gives a lot of leeway to writers. An angry praetor investigating the killing in accordance with the Senatus Consultum Silanianum or the trio of 18-19-old senatorial sons who theoretically supervised all executions in the early imperial City of Rome (one hell of a way to begin public service
Me too. I noticed the Fry-dian slip, but quod scripsi, scripsi and all that.
http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/gertrud-the-brave-slave-girl-a-story-in-6-chapters.3979/
Brilliant link Madiosi, I had a hunch we'd had such a story, but didn't remember Sassi's.
It's thrilling. Any chance of a pdf for the Archive?