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Day of torture in the arena

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In another part of the arena, Nicole and I are led to also undergo our tortures which will precede our death!

We have already been whipped in the dungeons and our torturers have not bothered to give us our loincloths and it is therefore completely naked, the body marked by the lashes that we are brought before two erect stipes which are just waiting for us.

Two patibulums are there at our feet and we are made to put them on, our arms spread apart in order to fix ourselves definitively with them using nails which seem to me really huge.

Nicole is the first that they take care, two on the left arm and two on the right arm!
On each side, a guard keeps her arm in place while the other positions the tip of the nail on her wrist.
The hammers fall down at the same time and in a horrible cry from Nicole, her wrists are pierced and fixed in the wood of the patibulum.

Now it's my turn, in the same way and with the same dexterity I find myself like Nicole, in insane pain, permanently nailed to this part of my cross.

We are stretched out on the sand of the arena hoping that the infinite pain that we feel will calm down a little but I am pulled to Nicole and forced to pay her a last tribute with my mouth.
Uncomfortably with this weight on my shoulders, I do it when I feel a very hard cock sink into me.
Very quickly, Nicole enjoys while I receive powerful jets of cum in the ass.
I am then replaced by two guards who take her simultaneously!

But, finished laughing, the executioners make Nicole get up and start to tighten her breasts with a wire! It is no longer breasts she has but purple shells ready to explode. With a hoist system Nicole is now lifted by the breasts until her patibulum fits into her stipe. In place, they spread her legs, fold them up and nail her feet on both sides of the stipe.

She is in place and now it's my turn! Quickly, I am hoisted hanged by the wrists!
I have in me the impression that, in total suffering, my forearms will tear but they hold and I am quickly in place.
My feet are directly fixed, nails crossing my ankles, I am, like Nicole, painfully crucified, definitively attached to my cross.

Crucifixion is truly one the most painful torture, if not the most painful, death sentence!

These nails which have crossed your flesh and on which you are hanged send painful waves all over your body and your limbs are quickly trapped in cramps which never subside.
I would like not to move but it is stronger than me, I dance on my cross in search of a comfortable position that does not exist.

My breathing becomes more and more difficult and I push the maximum on my feet to try to fill my lungs.
This dance is supposed to last for hours or even days but I do not believe that this is what our executioners want, they are here to put us to death faster and in maximum suffering, to satisfy the bloody desires of the crowd.

They also bring a brazier in which are heating different bars and metal needles.

The first to be ready are the finest, the needles and these are intended for Nicole's breasts which, already badly treated, are crossed by these glowing spikes, two in each breast then, a circular bar of about fifty centimeters, just as hot is pushed into her vagina after having burned her clitoris!

She cannot resist and loses consciousness!

Turning towards me, there are wider bars which are pressed on my chest and my belly before grilling my cock and balls!

I pass out in unimaginable pain!

They don't have enough yet and revive me with a bucket of ice water!

Meanwhile, armed with wire cutters, they begin to cut Nicole's breasts!
First the nipples then the rest in several stages!
Nicole no longer has a chest and is bleeding profusely from these gaping wounds!

She doesn't have much time left, she empties of her blood like an animal at the slaughterhouse.

The executioners are now coming towards me and thrust an incandescent bar into my anus, the pain caused is inhuman but it is not enough for them yet and, using the forceps they emulate mr suddenly leaving a gaping wound and bloody between my thighs.

I drain my blood and don't even have the strength to cry out my pain! Under the blazing sun, I'm cold!
My heart is racing in my chest and it hurts me terribly!
Suddenly, a black veil bars my view and all the muscles of my body contract, I rear and fall back ...
 
Nicole
After being whipped in the dungeons and always ignorant of the faults that we are accused of, we are taken, Pira and I into the arena, naked, exposed to the insults and jibes of the crowd.

I am the first to be stuck on a patibulum on which, without hesitation, the guards nail my wrists with oversized nails which sink directly into the tender flesh of my slender forearms by making me scream at the dead, the pain is so great.

Leaving me there in my suffering, they turn to Pira and make him suffer the same fate.

Both of us are attached to these beams, they then force us to have sex.

They stick Pira's mouth on my pussy while one of the guards fucks him .
Thanks to the skill of Pira's tonge, it does not take me long to feel the pleasure invade me but it is short-lived because they withdraw him and replace him with a long and hard cock which penetrates me and another that I have to suck!
I immediately show a lot of good will and they are not long to ejaculate, one in my mouth, and the other that I feel squirt in my belly, triggering me a mini orgasm.

I do not have time to enjoy it, I have to get up, these are my breasts their next target, they bind me very tightly the base of my breasts using a very fine and very sharp rope.

Once done, I no longer recognize my breasts which are now purple with skin ready to burst, the nipples are so hardened that you would think they will tear from the rest of my breasts, I often pain with very tight bondage but I never dare to go so far for fear of damaging my chest, it makes me smile because today it no longer matters.

I love that my breasts are tortured and, although they are tight to the limit of reasonableness, I do not feel pain but rather a wave of pleasure which is marked by an influx of cum that escapes from my pussy.

They connect the ligatures of my boobs to a kind of hoist and I am pulled up, in infinite suffering, my feet leave the ground, I am suspended by my breasts, and I am lifted until my patibulum s 'fits in my stipe!
This pain was directly transformed into a mad enjoyment, my body is shaken by an incredible orgasm, my pussy squirted during the whole operation, I scream with pleasure.

So here I am hanging painfully by the wrists but they grab my feet, spread my legs and nail my ankles on both sides of the stipe.

Crucified, naked, legs apart with my privacy well exposed on the way to a slow and painful death.

They then abandon me and finish the crucifixion of Pira!

We are now nailed naked to our crosses, exposed to the excited crowd that claims suffering and blood, that claims our death in the worst torments.

An incandescent brazier where needles and metal bars heat has just been brought between our two crosses!
I have the impression that the rest of our ordeal will be very hot and very cruel to satisfy the sadistic crowd who keep asking for our death!

I am the first to "benefit" from further treatment!

My already damaged breasts are pierced by glowing needles, two in each breast!

Barely recovered from the orgasm that I just experienced, these new pains revive the pleasure that burns in me and lead me once again to Nirvana!

The result is much less pleasant because they now introduce me into the vagina a white-hot bar having taken care in passing to grill my intimate lips and clitoris!
This time the pain is too strong and I pass out.

When I come back to myself, helped by a bucket of ice water, they are busy applying wider glowing bars on Pira's chest and belly before he also faints when they grill his cock and balls.

They do not have enough yet and it is armed with glowing tongs that they begin to squeeze my breasts by turning until I tear them off!

I admit that I have reached a point in pain which means that I don't even suffer anymore, even when they continue to cut my breasts in successive slices!

My body is emptied of my blood by the gaping wounds of my chest and by my pussy from which escapes a liquid mixed with blood and cum!

Pira, now semi-conscious, screams one last time when the cutting pliers come to emasculate her!
I see him rearing up, looking for air with his mouth wide open before falling back hanging by his wrists, animated by nervous tics before giving up the ghost.

My heart is desperately trying to beat, it is racing, I feel more and more weak, I sink into a fatal coma!

A strange smile remains frozen on my face!
 
An unfinished story from the arena, told from the point of view of one it's unsung heroes.

Arena Story

The attraction supervisor looked at the schedule as he walked down the corridor. Dust fluttered through the occasional light of openings and air vents as he walked by animal trainers and dancers and acrobats. He could hear the noise of the crowd above, mostly murmurings and laughing or shouting, but occasionally broken up by cheers. The day was early, and they were just getting warmed up. There was, as of yet, barely any blood on the sand.

He stepped into a side corridor and started walking down a set of dark stairs, deep into the bowels of the arena. The air was thick and heavy, the light of burning wall sconces casting insane shadows on the wall. Below, he could hear the real work of the show happening. There were hammers clanging on anvils, chains rattling, the sound of a whip followed by screams after each strike, the occasional roar of some large jungle cat. He knew the labyrinth of these halls like the back of his hand. The sounds and shadows were oddly comforting to him. He and a handful of other supervisors were the masters of this domain. This was his job. This was his way of life.

Wooden doors and shadowed alcoves passed. He stopped at a desk and had a few words with the man sitting there, ticking things off of a list by the light of large pillar candles. The man motioned behind him and two slavegirls dressed in grungy white rags came forward. The man handed them each two heavy bags. The attraction supervisor signed his name on one of the lists, set down the quill, and walked away. The two girls followed behind him without a word.

The heavy keyring on his belt jangled and the leather thongs of his braided flogger slapped lightly against his legs as he walked. When he neared his destination, a rough wooden door like so many others, he took a torch from the wall. Keys in hand, he opened the heavy door and was met by darkness and the foul stench of sweat, urine and fear.
Moving the torch around the room for light, he saw what he had come for: six women of various shapes lay on the ground before him. They were naked, chained together by the neck, their hands manacled behind them. Nothing else about the women was discernible. He pulled the flogger from his belt and struck the body nearest him. A stifled scream and muffled sobs followed.

“On your feet, sluts! Let’s go!”, he shouted.

Quickly, the women scrambled to their knees and then awkwardly stood. Their bodies moved with the pain of being bound for a long time. Their eyes were wide with fear.
He grabbed the hair of a girl on the end of a chain and pulled her roughly outside the small cell. The others, all attached by a heavy neckchain, had to follow. Once outside, he cast the girl to her knees. “Obeisance”, he commanded. The other girls quickly followed suit, dropping to their knees, eyes cast downwards.

He stuck his sandled foot between the knees of one, forcing her to separate her thighs. Regardless of their current situation, slaves should always follow accepted protocol. As he walked down the line of naked women, he did a quick evaluation of the group as a whole. An average lot for the job at hand. Not too pretty, not grotesque. All looked physically able. They were probably bought cheaply as a group lot specifically for the purpose of dying for the entertainment of the crowd. Some rich patron wanted to do his part for the festival, and earn the political and social rewards of his philanthropy.

“Get water for them,” he told one of the slaves who had followed him with the bags. She rose and quickly filled a bucket with water from a wooden barrel, bringing it back to the line of naked women. Using a gourd ladle, she began to give each of the naked women a long drink of water. He motioned to the second slave, who brought him another bucket, this one filled with day old table scraps of vegetables. She knelt beside him, holding the bucket up.

Reaching into the bucket, he pulled out a small, half eaten fruit of some kind. It was covered in the grease that always coats the scraps in the bucket. With a practiced hand, he grabbed the hair of the girl at the back of the line, the one who had been watered first, and brought her head up to look her in the face.

She was dirty, her face smeared with grime, her blonde hair tangled and wild as her eyes. She was young and athletic, and might have been attractive in other circumstances. He tilted her head back roughly and brought the fruit to her mouth. She snatched at it aggressively, like a wild animal. He pushed it into her mouth, holding her lower jaw open with his thick powerful finger and looking into her mouth briefly before letting her chew her prize. This one would put on a show for the crowd, of that he was sure.

Next he pulled out a chunk of what looked like cucumber, and grabbed the straight brown hair of the next girl. Her round face and large pleading eyes matched the rest of her. She was quite plump, with overly large breasts that hid most of her lower body from this angle. She was soft and weak, pleading for mercy and food. She almost whimpered, though she made no sound. He put the cucumber and his fingers in her mouth, feeling her tongue and teeth. She was missing two molars, he noted, as she tried to suck any juices from the vegetable on his fingers. She would not survive, though with her extra padding might last a bit longer, if for no other reason than the fact that she would take longer to bleed out. The crowd would enjoy that. He removed his fingers to allow her to enjoy her last meal. She swallowed it without chewing.

The next in line was an older, mature redhead, also with large breasts, but much more lithe and shapely. She took the direction of his forceful hands with a practiced air, and when he put the scrap of food in her mouth, she looked up at him and made it a point to suck seductively on his fingers. She was certainly attractive and in good shape, though just past her prime. It was obvious that she was well experienced in pleasing a master. It would almost be a shame to see her go to waste, even if she was a little past her prime. Perhaps with her strength and experience, she might win the contest and survive.

Next was a skinny brunette with a short haircut. She was young and very slender with small breasts, but not particularly athletic. Her only real standout feature was her eyes, large and alluring set in the elfin features of her face. She took her meal as a matter of fact, like any animal being fed. The man reserved judgement on her chances or performance.
The fifth woman on the chain was tall and stocky, though not overly muscular. When he pulled her up by her curly dark hair, he saw she had a plain face, medium breasts and large legs and thighs. She was very plain, not particularly pretty, though certainly not ugly, experienced but not old. She was the typical slave you would see in a kitchen or garden or sweeping a courtyard or working the fields: in other words, unnoticeable and unexceptional. When he fed her, she also looked him in the eyes and sucked lightly at his fingers, though not overtly sexually as the redhead had done. With her, it was more like the gratitude of a slave being fed by her master. The man reserved judgement on this one, as well.

The last in the coffle was a brunette with medium features. She was of average height and weight, well within her prime, with nicely shaped breasts and hips. She had pleading eyes. She was, in his opinion, the most attractive of the bunch. Remove the dirt and grime, feed her and put her in something sheer and flowing and she would be pretty enough to be a sex slave in a brothel or maybe a dancer. She wasn’t outstanding, but certainly was attractive. She was placed in the proper position among the women. At the end, she would draw more attention, and only face attack from one direction, increasing her chance of survival. The attractions supervisor made a mental note and thought that it might be nice if she lived. Although he enjoyed the violence and spectacle and destruction of soft beauty as much as any of the fans, probably more so, he also appreciated a good looking slavegirl, and didn’t like to see too many go to waste.

After each girl got a few more bites and another ladle of water, he made them stand. They were shaky and weak. They hadn’t been fed or watered since sometime yesterday, when they were placed in the cell. Their limbs would be stiff from lying on the hard floor with their hands bound behind them. With no light to tell time, and not knowing their future or even where they were located, it would have been difficult to sleep. Bound to each other in the dark, it would have been difficult, and pointless to try to stand to stretch out properly. Hopefully the food and water and a short walk would help re-invigorate them. He attached a short leash to the collar of the brunette on the end. The two slaves from the desk picked up their bags. With a tug of the leash he started forward, with all eight women following.

He wound his way through the corridors, past other cells and a couple of cages filled with various large animals. They passed an alcove where a man with a long bullwhip was whipping a naked slavegirl. All of her limbs were stretched out and bound, completely exposing her body. Her flesh was crisscrossed with angry red welts and stripes. When he struck her as they passed, her body jerked and she gave an involuntary cry, though she was almost unconscious. The group walked on by.

The man stopped at a well lit chamber. There was a large cistern of water flowing up and over into a trough along the floor. The long stone wall had several sets of manacles set at even intervals. He led the group to the wall and had them stand, backs to the wall. He took a key and undid the manacles of the brunette slave at the lead, freeing her hands, only to secure them again to the manacles on the wall. She groaned as her arms were pulled up over her head in a spread-eagle fashion. The two help slaves had put down their bags. One was drawing a bucket of water from the cistern as the other came and knelt on the floor to secure the brunette’s feet with the lower manacles, spreading her ankles apart. Then they moved on to the next slave, the larger girl.

The slaves were staring across the room. On the other side was a horrific scene from the point of view of a slave. Two other slavegirls, also naked and prettier than this group, were being tortured by two men. Their arms were tied to poles hanging from the ceiling, their hands bound around the poles with cord, so that they could not clench their fists. Their feet were secured to rings on the floor, their legs spread a little more than shoulder width apart, their bodies just high enough that the unfortunate girls had to stand on tiptoes, or put all of the strain of the weight of their bodies on their wrists. They had needles stuck at various points along their bodies. Their vaginal lips were being pulled widely apart by strong steel clamps. A chain ran from a fresh piercing far back on their tongues, then split as it ran down to freshly pierced nipples, lifting and pulling the shapely breasts tightly and painfully upwards. One of them, a brunette, was being choked by the large meaty hands of her torturer as he used a thin cane to whip up between her legs, striking her exposed inner pussy and the inner cheeks of her ass. The other, a matching blonde, was being beaten by another man with a large flat flap of heavy and stiff leather. A heavy rope hung down from the braid of her hair, ending in something large that was shoved deep into her anus. Each woman continued to give undefineable screams through their pierced mouths.

The six girls on the coffle looked horrified, but said nothing and did not fight as they were chained, one by one to the wall. The attractions supervisor knew what they were thinking, that they might be treated in such a way if they disobeyed in the slightest. He would not tell them otherwise. He knew that the two women were being prepared for their moment in the spotlight. They were to be ‘willing sacrifices’. At some point later in the evening, they would be brought forth, naked and beautiful before the crowd in order to commit suicide so that the festival might gain favor from the gods. They would likely put a noose around their own necks and step off of a platform, though they might instead be given daggers to plunge into their own chests or to slit each others’ throats. But even the most faithful and willing of slaves still finds it difficult to take her own life for the amusement of others, so they must be convinced by other methods. These two would be tortured for hours yet. When the two men tired, two more would take their place in giving these slaves such extreme pain that death would be a happy escape. They would be tortured in ingenious and practiced methods that would inflict unbearable pain, yet keep them fully conscious and leave no visible marks. That is why they used things like needles and sheets of leather, and focused on hidden areas like tongues, underarms, inner thighs, inner labia and anuses. These men knew their business well, and the women might already be silently begging for death.

The supervisor turned his attention back to his own charge. He finished chaining the athletic blonde and gave her breast a rough squeeze before his hand trailed down her body. At the other end, the pretty brunette was crying out and moving her body violently as the help slave roughly scrubbed her body with a soap covered brush. She shivered and squirmed as she was doused with cold water and the rough bristle brush scraped over her more sensitive areas: The bottoms of her feet, her underarms, the undersides of her breasts, her pussy and her ass.

The supervisor would inspect the physical properties of each of the women. He needed to know if there was anything to hide or enhance. He enjoyed this part of his job, as he would also get to enjoy the use of their bodies, if there was time and he left no visible wounds.

He moved to the next slave, the overweight slut. She had a substantial belly pooch for a slave, and incredibly large and full breasts which he cupped to weigh, then enjoyed squeezing and kneading. He pinched a nipple and twisted. He wanted to see how far it would twist and what reaction she would give. She gave a pained face and opened her mouth wide in a silent cry. He put two fingers into her open mouth, let go of the nipple and prodded her to suck. He moved the fingers in and out until they were nicely wet. Still kneading the breast with the offended nipple, he reached down to push his wet fingers between her labia. “Spread your legs”, he commanded, and she did her best to comply, but she was clumsy. He pushed the fingers in and out of her pussy roughly, but wasn’t impressed. He then pulled them out and pushed them back up and between her ass cheeks. Her ass cheeks were large and squishy. Most men thought that slaves like this were useless for sex. While he wasn’t overly attracted, he knew that sluts like these could have their uses. And he had a fondness for two things she could provide. He liked putting his cock between large breasts and fucking them. He also greatly enjoyed fucking a woman in the ass. Large sluts would often have very tight assholes, as they are rarely used for sex, and they had large soft buttocks to pad his hips as he slammed into them. More cushion, as the saying goes. He pulled his fingers out of her ass and pushed them back into her mouth to suck clean. He would wash his hands in a soap bucket afterwards.

Each woman would have her own moment to receive his attentions. He was a professional, and thorough. There was a schedule to follow, and he had allowed plenty of time to prepare them as the other acts performed.

As the wolves were being removed with their prize, this coffle would be led onto the sand. They would be clean, and fresh and hooded, so that as they fought each other to the death for the amusement of the city, their blood would show bright and clear. Not on grimy skin covering weak bodies, but clean and white, oiled and gleaming, showing off muscle tone or fat under the shining sun. The heavy white hoods that would cover their heads and faces would be spotless before the blood. It would all contrast nicely with the awkwardness of using knives that they had never, and would never see, and the fear evident in their movements.

He had to admit that it was novel spectacle. He would enjoy watching, from the sidelines. He wondered which, if any, would survive.
 
I am so sorry about that. I just realized that I somehow posted this twice, and now it is past the time limit to edit or delete.
My apologies.
 
I am so sorry about that. I just realized that I somehow posted this twice, and now it is past the time limit to edit or delete.
My apologies.
Don’t feel bad. Happens to all of us. I deleted the second one for you. Enjoyed the read. Well done.
 
Great story Vindex.
There is a book that explains in detail various deaths in Roman arenas. The cover gives an idea of the contents. The prisoner's face, knowing she is to be torn apart alive, makes me want to know what she will be thinking as the ropes go taught and her limbs are ripped from her. Perhaps her thoughts will be drowned out by the cheers of the crowd?
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The scene is extraordinarily erotic. The young girl is on the ground, in the sand of the crowded arena. She is beautiful, very well made, already a woman but still a child. She, Mirta, was sentenced to death, a horrible death: she will have to be quartered and in a few minutes she will be! She is very afraid even if she tries to behave.The crown of flowers that they put her in the head increases the contraction between her child appearance and her beautiful and attractive woman body, with all the curves in the right place, in an extraordinarily erotic way,! Now she is also forgetting - for a moment - of the great shame, for a Roman woman, of being half-naked in public and is looking at one of the executioners and the huge ox who will soon kill her. She looks with fear at the beast's powerful snappy muscles and thinks about the deadly power of that mass of muscles and big bones .. Mirta knows that she will soon scream madly when the ropes that tie her wrists and ankles begin to stretch more and more ferociously, raising her to half a meter from the ground, spreadeagled arms and legs, to stretch the skin tissues, her muscles, disarticulate the limbs, break veins and nerves. She knows it will be slow and accompanied by the noise of the spectators' screams of derision, by their obscene insults, by the shouts of incitement for the animals, until her arms and legs are torn from her trunk in the midst of copious splashes of blood. And perhaps she will not die immediately but she will remain screaming in pain as the blood flows out of her amputated body, dispersing in the sand. Mirta is trembling with fear, she has goosebumps, but also a strange, incredible, absurd, feeling of growing sexual arousal that starts from the clitoris to get to the brain. She hopes - in vain - that no one has noticed the erection of her nipples.

The executioner commander who is binding her left wrist is thinking that before the start of the execution he will have to make eight deep cuts on the girl's body: two in the armpits and on the deltoids of each arm, and two on each leg, at the inside the thighs - at the level of the pussy - and outside, just below the buttocks. This operation will allow the limbs to come off almost simultaneously, with great spectacular results! He is also thinking that he will now remove the loincloth with the flowers from the girl to allow a complete view of her pissing pussy at the moment of maximum suffering.

The drivers of the oxen are thinking that it will be nice to watch that young girl while screaming mad with pain and that they will guide the mighty oxen very very slowly, step by step, stopping even for twenty, thirty seconds after each step.

"Maybe - the executioner in the foreground is thinking - we will manage to make this show last for at least half an hour! The public will go crazy. Too bad for the little girl but she is too beautiful not to enjoy her pain and, if they have condemned her to this atrocious death, there will be a reason!
 
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How I love to see the jubilant crowd when all the "crux" members of this forum are brought into the arena to be tortured, tortured and crucified.

Men and women condemned for various acts, we stand huddled together, dressed only in our little loincloth

Today the crowd is hungry for this kind of spectacle and they will get their money's worth.
I would like to be crucified in front of this crowd.
 
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