-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
Carfulena Delia
- Thread starter Marcius
- Start date
Marcius
Tribune
Difficult to write it, too.Such pain. Such tragedy. The almost indifference of the watchers makes it stark. Excellent writing.
I wouldn't be able to watch this.
Here, in a début story, I just feel myself compelled to explore a lot of things. I ought to go easier on the girls in the future.
Well, perhaps just a wee bit easier. It isn't like one can have a nice, gentle Roman crucifixion.
When you write of the crucifixion of a woman, you lay awake at night, living through the moments of which you write. She becomes part of your soul, and then you tear her out again and set her down on the page.
When you reach into the depths like this, then you get writing of the quality of Carfulena Delia.
When you reach into the depths like this, then you get writing of the quality of Carfulena Delia.
Well said.
malins
Stumbling Seeker
Unless it's a game played in private. Just for the thrill..
Those sometimes go wrong too...
Marcius
Tribune
It's not really Roman then... unless it's in the privacy of a villa in Parioli ... or a one-bedroom flat in a tower block back of the railway line to Naples, that is.
M
montycrusto
Guest
Again, great writing Marcius - so real!
malins
Stumbling Seeker
A lot could go on there.
Oh, and if it's in a somewhat isolated location (Privacy! what a shame it would be if people found out they were replaying the punishment of slaves for pleasure!!)...
... my silly imagination asks, what if bandits/barbarians or such ruffians invade the place... find it empty ... until they come to that place in the secret garden where a most pleasurable playful crucifixion is taking place..
What a surprise! After a moment of embarassment on one side, and amazement at their vulnerable find on the other ... I'm sure the barbarians will take control of the game and apply their own rules!!!
Marcius
Tribune
There's a story here, that's for sure.
malins
Stumbling Seeker
Oh yes there is. Another place, another time...
Marcius
Tribune
Blinking away the tears, Delia saw the watchers and a couple of passers-by ogling her body. She knew that she had been forced to rape herself in full view of anyone who cared to look. Delia craned her neck to look between her legs. Her nether lips were now on lewd display, cruelly stretched round the thick base of the cornu. Blood was slowly seeping out of her ravaged cunnus, and the slightest muscle twitch down there was a source of burning, throbbing pain. She felt her wealed arse and lower back squashed tight against the rough wood of the stipes.
The air shimmered with waves of heat. Her skin burning with sun-fire, Delia moaned and dropped her head to stare at the cracked ground under the stipes, then drifted into unconsciousness.
When Delia came to, Castus was there with the sponge. She drank. The tension in her legs and arms had been somewhat alleviated, but her body could not endure the assault of the cornu any longer. Groaning, the girl raised herself just enough to get off the horn, then hung by her wrists in dull agony.
The air shimmered with waves of heat. Her skin burning with sun-fire, Delia moaned and dropped her head to stare at the cracked ground under the stipes, then drifted into unconsciousness.
When Delia came to, Castus was there with the sponge. She drank. The tension in her legs and arms had been somewhat alleviated, but her body could not endure the assault of the cornu any longer. Groaning, the girl raised herself just enough to get off the horn, then hung by her wrists in dull agony.
Marcius
Tribune
I've found a nice representation of the area outside of the western gate of Corduba. Delia's cross should be not far from the three trees in the top right hand corner.
The story's going to be finished soon; lately I've been engrossed in reading a scholarly monograph on crucifixion, and there's that pesky real life...
The story's going to be finished soon; lately I've been engrossed in reading a scholarly monograph on crucifixion, and there's that pesky real life...
Marcius
Tribune
I tried.Poor Delia.I can't even remember why she's hanging there. She probably can't either - just the pain and humiliation .
You do a great job describing the weary agony she feels.
Delia escaped from the State-owned mines where she was a slave servicing the miners (women were sentenced to that in real life). She also joined the gang, but the governor decided to execute her without further ado because 'There are no brigands left in my province, placidissime Caesar!'
Marcius
Tribune
VII
Liberta
Another spell of merciful unconsciousness being over, Delia groaned. It was dawning. The short summer night was over quickly. It hardly brought the crucified girl any relief – the pain had, if anything, intensified. Her hot, sunburnt skin felt as if little tongues of flame were licking all over her body.
Last evening, just when Saturninus came to relieve Castus, Delia’s torment left her no choice but to take the cornu in her culus. She could not bear the thought of torturing the abraded walls of her cunnus again so soon, and the soft tissue between the two nether openings was bruised during her futile attempts to sit on the cornu, just like her buttocks. The tip of the cornu was pointy enough to make it unbearable for more than a heartbeat. It could only go inside her.
When Delia felt the tip of the cornu doing just that to her culus, she stilled herself, willing the resisting tight muscular ring to relax. Her cramped legs gave way instead, and she sank on the cornu with an inhuman shriek of fresh pain until she was fully impaled on it, her thighs splayed, her gaping cunnus in full view of the watching men.
‘Think it tore through her guts?’ Castus asked Saturninus quietly.
‘It wouldn’t, we stretched her well and good last night,’ Saturninus grinned. ‘Made her culus all too sensitive, though.’ He came closer to have a good look, which was a bit difficult with the sun setting. ‘There’s a little blood, perhaps there’s a small tear or two, but I’d say she’s good to ride it.’
Malchus also approached the girl and, leering, fingered her cunnus, while Delia stared down in anguish.
‘Listen, men, how about I get up there and fuck her well and good?’ he asked the soldiers. The other slave, Germanus, looked at him with concern. ‘Just to help her sleep, mmm? I’ll pay you.’
‘Yeah, slave, go on, climb the cross, it’s the place for you all right,’ Saturninus’ white teeth gleamed on his dark face. ‘I’ll be right behind you with the hammer and spikes, so that you and this girl will dance together all they way to the Underworld. Now fuck off and buy yourself a bustuaria if you’ve got money to spare, you fool!’
‘Fuck!’ Malchus left Delia’s cunnus alone and strode away, muttering something about soldiers ruining his mood.
They watered her and the two crucified men, the latter looking more dead than alive, then Castus left. When Delia lifted herself off the cornu and hung to one side of it in the darkness, stretching one arm, relaxing another, trading the the temporary and elusive relief in one wrist for the horrible, jolting pain in another, Saturninus lit the fire, then looked at her.
‘By Pollux, it won’t help, girl,’ the Numidian said, with a concern unexpected in a man who had raped her, then flogged her with practised cruelty. ‘It’ll only get worse, trust me.’
This morning, Delia knew Saturninus had told her the truth. The new day had come, and, if the great majority of people hoped to see the next one, Delia longed for that day to be her last.
Liberta
Another spell of merciful unconsciousness being over, Delia groaned. It was dawning. The short summer night was over quickly. It hardly brought the crucified girl any relief – the pain had, if anything, intensified. Her hot, sunburnt skin felt as if little tongues of flame were licking all over her body.
Last evening, just when Saturninus came to relieve Castus, Delia’s torment left her no choice but to take the cornu in her culus. She could not bear the thought of torturing the abraded walls of her cunnus again so soon, and the soft tissue between the two nether openings was bruised during her futile attempts to sit on the cornu, just like her buttocks. The tip of the cornu was pointy enough to make it unbearable for more than a heartbeat. It could only go inside her.
When Delia felt the tip of the cornu doing just that to her culus, she stilled herself, willing the resisting tight muscular ring to relax. Her cramped legs gave way instead, and she sank on the cornu with an inhuman shriek of fresh pain until she was fully impaled on it, her thighs splayed, her gaping cunnus in full view of the watching men.
‘Think it tore through her guts?’ Castus asked Saturninus quietly.
‘It wouldn’t, we stretched her well and good last night,’ Saturninus grinned. ‘Made her culus all too sensitive, though.’ He came closer to have a good look, which was a bit difficult with the sun setting. ‘There’s a little blood, perhaps there’s a small tear or two, but I’d say she’s good to ride it.’
Malchus also approached the girl and, leering, fingered her cunnus, while Delia stared down in anguish.
‘Listen, men, how about I get up there and fuck her well and good?’ he asked the soldiers. The other slave, Germanus, looked at him with concern. ‘Just to help her sleep, mmm? I’ll pay you.’
‘Yeah, slave, go on, climb the cross, it’s the place for you all right,’ Saturninus’ white teeth gleamed on his dark face. ‘I’ll be right behind you with the hammer and spikes, so that you and this girl will dance together all they way to the Underworld. Now fuck off and buy yourself a bustuaria if you’ve got money to spare, you fool!’
‘Fuck!’ Malchus left Delia’s cunnus alone and strode away, muttering something about soldiers ruining his mood.
They watered her and the two crucified men, the latter looking more dead than alive, then Castus left. When Delia lifted herself off the cornu and hung to one side of it in the darkness, stretching one arm, relaxing another, trading the the temporary and elusive relief in one wrist for the horrible, jolting pain in another, Saturninus lit the fire, then looked at her.
‘By Pollux, it won’t help, girl,’ the Numidian said, with a concern unexpected in a man who had raped her, then flogged her with practised cruelty. ‘It’ll only get worse, trust me.’
This morning, Delia knew Saturninus had told her the truth. The new day had come, and, if the great majority of people hoped to see the next one, Delia longed for that day to be her last.
King Diocletian
Magistrate
Superb. Marcius, you really are a master.
Is that the End?