My Master's Garden: An End on the Cross
As I staggered upon the rough ground my heart was racing and my mind in despair. Death awaited me and the poor Liliana atop Crucifixion Hill. One of the guards jerked the coarse rope around my neck and forced me to lift my head, choking as it tightened around my throat. A large crowd lined the road - men, women and children - and all were caught up in the festive atmosphere. The procession came to a stop and my eyes caught sight of something I did not expect and I held my breath as I took it in. There was a rough cart parked beside the road, with guards standing round it. Standing in the cart were four men, one older and the others younger. All were naked and yoked, their hair matted and dirty. It was my father and three brothers, whom I had not seen for over five years, since I had been asked to leave my home. My youngest brother, who was thirteen when I left, had matured to a young man of eighteen and his hairy chest and big, half-erect penis looked unnatural to me. My other brothers, now twenty one and twenty five, stood, yoked and hobbled, with cinched and weighted balls and flaccid cocks. I stared at their obscenely naked bodies and frightened eyes and knew that they despised me. They had been captured and stripped and were now bound for the slave auction, no doubt because of their relationship to me.
My father, though, was the most pitiful member of this small group. He had grown fat since I had last seen him and his belly was huge and protruded over his small penis and balls. His balding head was covered with sweat and he seemed to have trouble standing in the noon-day sun, burdened as he was by the yoke and the hobbles restraining his feet. He couldn't look me in the eye and I could see that he had pissed on the floor of the cart and was standing in his own puddle.
Once again the rope around my neck was pulled tight and a strong hand slapped my back, forcing me forward. I had lost sight of Liliana and the shouts and laughter of the crowd now grew so loud that I thought I would lose my mind. Here and there a young man walked along both sides of the road shouting out, "souvenirs, souvenirs, get your souvenirs here!" A man held up his hand and motioned for one of the young men. "Here, here, I'd like something!" The hawker approached with a small bag and held it up to his potential customer, "A lock of hair? From the head or a prized curl from the prisoner's bush? I have some beautiful, soft curls cut from around his penis for a price, and, some very special curls cut from around the anus!" "I'll take one of each" said the customer, handing over his money and quite pleased with his purchase. His wife smiled and flaunted a bracelet fashioned, no doubt from Liliana's shorn locks, and I thought for a moment that, even though I was soon to die that at least the shorn hair of my manhood would live on, never aging - a memento mori for some future generation to ponder.
The procession moved slowly on and I heard voices in the crowd hurling insults at my naked and abused body, laughing and pointing fingers at my disfigured anus, exposed and painted red for all the world to see and at my tortured, wire-cinched balls and rampant, brightly painted red penis, pointing toward the sky, stiff and throbbing. The rods thrust through my tits caused excruciating pain and my mutilated mouth formed a grotesque smile, exposing my teeth and dry, heavy tongue.
On and on we trudged, one mile, then two, and I could see ahead of me Crucifixion Hill growing closer by the step. The crowd had grown larger now and extra guards had been dispatched to keep them under control. It seemed like hours but finally we reached the base of the hill and I could see the Executioner's Assistant standing to one side. Liliana was being led up the hill and I could see figures standing at the summit, indistinguishable at that distance, but dark and foreboding still.
And then we had arrived. The crowd had grown to hundreds by that time and their chatter was deafening. It was then that I heard a slow drum roll and the voices began to subside. Liliana was standing about ten feet in front of me and one of the guards, a large, half-naked black man, was removing the rope from her neck. I felt the rope being pulled off of my own neck and I was marched, under the weight of my cross beam, to a place beside the poor slave girl.
The sun was high in the sky and the temperature soaring. We stood atop the hill and, as I squinted in the harsh light I saw two large posts laying on the ground and two holes beyond. One cross I recognized to be the one from my Master's garden and the phallus attached seemed impossibly large - a monster designed for a special purpose. The other cross had a U-shaped double phallus projecting from it and, in my dazed state I could not understand its purpose though I would soon discover it.
The black man picked up Liliana's cross beam and held it high in the air, exhibiting the naked girl to the crowd for a few moments, before lowering it to the ground. Another guard approached and together the two of them dragged the beam with it's victim and placed it in the slot atop the stipe, using a large peg and mallet to fix the two pieces together.
Two strong men hefted my own beam and raised me high in the air, my legs dangling, as the crowd roared in approval and I looked out into a sea of eager faces. I could then feel myself being lowered to the ground and my own beam secured to the stipe. I couldn't see Liliana but heard her cry out as the guards pulled her body towards the base of the stipe and then, lifting her legs and spreading them wide, lowered her onto the double cornu, one bulbous phallus shoved up her rectum and the other into her vagina. Both had been generously greased with animal fat. Once she had been impaled the guards walked the short distance to where I lay on the ground and pulled my legs apart and up against my chest as they lined up the monster phallus with my gaping anus before impaling me to the prostate. I could hear the crowd roar in excitement as the big, wooden cock filled my rectum and stretched the swollen, reconfigured lips of my now huge hole.
Ropes were then attached to each of our crosses and a small team of guards began to pull our crosses up and drag the heavy wood the few feet to the prepared holes. I could feel myself being raised and I struggled, my legs flailing, pinned as I was with twelve inches of pole jammed inside of me. The stipe was dropped into it's hole and rocked for a moment, further slamming the phallus into my prostate and jarring my rectum. Pieces of wood were then hammered between the stipe and the surrounding hole to make it steady. My legs still jerked as I hung there and I had grown dizzy and nauseous from the pain. Within a short time strong arms grabbed my ankles and pulled them up and tied them to the sides of the stipe, my legs pulled apart and my knees jutting out. I turned my head and saw Liliana, now hanging on her own cross, her breasts pointing out and her vagina invaded by the cornu. She was moaning loudly and the crowd was beginning to quiet down in order to savor the spectacle of our joint crucifixion.
It was then that one of the guards extended me a small mercy. He removed the ring that held the dilator in my urethra and pulled the invader out slowly, causing me to scream in agony. There was blood dripping from the slit in my penis but my erection had not subsided, abetted by the phallus that raped my hole and punished my prostate. My relief was short lived as another guard approached with a large, heavy stone with an iron ring affixed to the top. A chain was produced and one end attached to the ring and the other attached to the wire band around my balls. The chain was about twelve inches in length and when the guard dropped the stone electric pain shot through my scrotum and reverberated throughout my entire body.
My arms were going numb and my shoulders and chest causing me immense pain. I struggled to raise my upper body, pulling up with as much strength as I could muster, and I could feel the big phallus sliding inside my rectum. It took every ounce of strength as I pulled up, desperately trying to relieve the stress on my chest and shoulders, and feeling the phallus being expelled, with just a few inches of the bulbous head still lodged there. My strength failed me and I could feel myself sagging down, trying to slow down the impalement, but to no avail. I sunk down in one motion and felt the intruder slam into my already punished prostate. I rested then and through foggy eyes looked out on the crowd gathered to watch my humiliation and pain. Soon, the ache in my rectum forced me to pull up again, struggling to free myself of the greased cornu, only to slide down again. My cock was still rock hard and now dripping pre cum, and my balls had gone numb from being tied off and dragged down my the heavy stone.
I lost track of time and place and found myself in a struggle for survival that I knew I could never overcome. The extreme pain I felt was coupled with a sexual arousal as I rode the phallus and I soon writhed in a degraded, obscene dance of orgasm played out for the eyes of the hundreds gathered there. Oblivious to the spectators I rode the cornu and fucked myself in an unending rhythm of squatting and rising on the pole, my belly distended and my penis stabbing the air.
The Chief Executioner, clad in black leather and full hood, walked slowly up the hill and stood before the two crosses. Liliana had climaxed from the double phallus and her vaginal juices dripped on the ground in front of her cross. She was panting and flushed, her nipples erect and her eyes rolled back in her head.
The Executioner climbed a short ladder to finger her belly and pinch her nipples and she began to fuck herself again. I could feel my own orgasm rising up, the Cowper's Glans were stimulated mercilessly, and I pulled myself up slowly - one last attempt to escape the phallus. But my efforts were short lived, and now exhausted, I slumped down, taking the big cornu to the root and hung, defeated, to the delight of the onlookers. I could feel the climax as it stirred within my guts and pushed its way up. My ejaculation was so powerful that I almost passed out and great ropes of semen shot into the air as the crowd screamed with delight. It seemed to go on forever and my penis continued to spurt out globs of white cum for several minutes afterward. The Chief Executioner then motioned for the crowd to be silent and called one of the guards, who carried a bucket of tar pitch and a sponge. Standing quietly, he watched as the Chief Executioner picked up a knife and held it in the air to show the crowd. There was absolutely no sound at that point and I felt myself begin to struggle, terrified at what I knew was coming. He turned and in one quick motion, sliced my balls just below the wire band and they and the rock and chain fell to the ground. I screamed a scream of terror and pain and soon felt tar pitch swabbed on the place where my testicles had hung. The Chief Executioner had retrieved the ball sack and applied tar pitch to stop the bleeding. He then pierced the top of the sack with a small loop of rope and handed the grisly trophy to the guard. The guard climbed up a few steps on a small ladder and tied my severed nuts around my neck.
The crowd was in a fever pitch of excitement, eager for blood by now and knowing what would come next. The Chief Executioner stepped forward and pulled my now limp penis as far as possible from my groin and, in one quick motion, sliced it off. He handed the severed cock to the guard, who sealed the bleeding end with tar pitch. Without ceremony he climbed up the ladder and pushed the organ into my open mouth, against the back of my throat, then gagged me with a leather strap.
I was too weak to try to raise my upper body and now found breathing difficult. I choked on the penis stuffed in my mouth and moaned from the aching pain in my groin and rectum. My eyes were glazed over and my heartbeat pounding in my chest.
I don't know how much time went by. It was late afternoon and I turned my head to see Liliana hanging limp on her cross, no sign of life, her chest still. The guards stood by and the crowd remained. Just down the hill were two dead trees and I could see dozens of vultures on the bare limbs. My mind was playing tricks on me by then and I found myself working in the warm, summer sun of my Master's garden. All I could hear were the sounds of insects and bees and hummingbirds flew on their rounds among the flowers and trees. A gentle breeze caused tiny waves to ripple across the garden pond and big, billowy clouds moved across the azure blue sky. I was happy to toil in my Master's garden and feel the warm sun on my naked body. I was happy as a slave and strove to please my Master in every way I could. Now I would be a memory, my bones perhaps buried in the soil there and another, innocent boy tending my Master's garden in the shadow of the looming cross. I closed my eyes and surrendered then, and, as the last breath left my lungs I felt the sun shining brightly and I was not afraid.