Chapter 13.
626 moaned as she slumped downward again, her leg muscles cramping up. How many times had she raised herself up again, reducing the strain on her arms and shoulders, the metal cornu in her arse easing out a little? She didn't know.
She knew she wouldn't be able to hang for too long. The ache in her shoulders would soon become unbearable again, her breath would become short, and the invader in her arse would continue to stretch her out.
She lifted her head a little, looking at the group of prisoners who were chained to the posts in front of her. How many groups had been chained there now? Four, five? She didn't know. It was all a blur. All the groups looked the same, the same ragged uniforms, soaked with sweat, the same speech from Gomez.
Her head dropped again, leaving her looking down the length of her body. There was almost no fat on her body now, and her muscles and ribs stood out in sharp relief, as did the many weals and whip marks that snaked around her body. She had never been a pale English rose, but with the constant work in the Sun, she was deeply tanned and gleaming with sweat that trickled down her body. She couldn't help but look at the two hooks turned into barbed rings, that transfixed each nipple, catching the Sun as her chest rose and fell.
What did the other prisoners see? A beaten, battered woman, streaked with dirt, blood and sweat. Those that saw her earlier in the day saw her struggle on the cross, but now she was tiring, broken by the treatment, An example.
-*-
She lifted her head slowly. The sky was darkening. Was it night? Things slowly swam into focus, clouds were rolling in, a storm gathering on the horizon.
The wind was the first thing she noticed, picking up, shifting around, gusting. She could see the curtain of rain approaching, could see the flash of lightning high in the sky. The posts in front of her were empty, but 626 knew no one was coming for her.
The rain when it came was wind blown, more horizontal than anything else. She felt it, cold on her skin, washing away the dirt, blood and sweat. It ran down her face, and she gladly opened her mouth, drinking it down, restoring a little strength to her crucified body.
Lightning flashed nearby, lighting up the darkness, and she saw that Gomez had come out at one point, and was standing in front of her. Gomez was soaked, her hair plastered to her head, her white uniform shirt translucent with the rain.
626 lifted herself up again, forcing her legs to move, forcing her body up. An act of defiance, an act of rebellion, showing that she still had strength, still had the fight to show Gomez, the guards, the whole fucking prison that she was still going to struggle. She felt the barbed wire tear at her ankles, at her wrists, fresh blood turning the rain pink as it dripped from her.
Gomez stepped forward, a feral smile on her face. She unhooked a riding crop from her belt, placing it gently on 626's wet inner thigh. Slowly, she moved it up, till the leather at the end sat on 626's clit.
Gomez started to tap at 626's clit with the crop, little flicks of the wrist, metronomic, and 626 moaned gently. Gomez could see the muscles in 626's legs starting to tremble.
Tap..tap..tap..tap.. and then Gomez swung with her arm, catching 626 by surprise. She howled as her legs gave way, and she dropped down, the cornu plunging into her arse, whilst Gomez laughed.
Chest heaving, 626 let out a cry as she tried again, levering herself up with her legs once more, only for Gomez to start the same tap tap tap rhythm on 626's clit.
'You want to show me your strength, don't you.....' Gomez voice was low, but it cut through the rain. 'You want to show me that I haven't defeated you...'
'You're wrong!' The crop crashed into 626 again, and she dropped again,, the cornu going deeper this time. 626 hung there a while, her breath coming in short gasps from a wide open mouth.
626 reached into herself, into the place that Gomez had always taken her to. This was a strength. She would take what Gomez gave her, pain, humiliation, and mirror it.
She struggled to lift herself, her body slumping forward, so her arms pulled behind her, placing even more strain on her shoulders. She pulled her legs further open, feeling the barbed wire cut deeper, a pain that only drove her on.
Gomez didn't even tap at her clit this time. Instead she laid into it with a rapid fire series of blows, forehand and backhand, 626 struggling to keep herself up.
Finally, Gomez caught her with an almighty back hand, and 626 tossed her head back and screamed. She dropped, and the cornu stretched her to its fullest extent. 626's orgasm exploded, and she lost control, writhing on the cross as she came, but still Gomez kept swinging the crop, until 626 slumped down, all coherent thought driven from her.
-*-
She felt hands on her arms, on her legs. She felt herself lifted, felt the absence of the invader in her arse. She felt cold water being pressed to dry, cracked lips.
The voices were distant, almost unreal. 'She is weak, but alive, Commandante....'
'Put her in the infirmary. Make sure she is cuffed to the bed.'
A voice she recognized. Gomez.... 'Still with us... You'll soon wish you were dead..'