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Personal fantasies
- Thread starter PhilX
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onthecross
Guard
Fantasy
Onthecross
Sorry Phil, I tried to post a large section tonight, but I lost it. I'll try again tomorrow. My goal is not to torture you, but to be tortured, in case you haven't noticed. Next time I'll use an attachement.PhilX said:
Onthecross
PhilX
Governor
Don't worry, this suspense is exquisite.
I anticipate with next installment with pleasure, don't rush it let's have loads of detail please.
Just a quick question; I assume you went through this sentencing bit dressed in your underwear & with an embarrassing & uncontrolable erection?
I anticipate with next installment with pleasure, don't rush it let's have loads of detail please.
Just a quick question; I assume you went through this sentencing bit dressed in your underwear & with an embarrassing & uncontrolable erection?
onthecross
Guard
Fantasy - Part 7
The Executioners ordered me to stand and quickly ushered me towards the door. The crowd watched in silence. I could tell that their mood had changed. They were no longer laughing and making fun of me. They had turned quite serious in anticipation of what was to come. Most of them had been in on tha planning of the event and knew the details of the ordeal I was about to undergo. Now they watched in silent witness as I was paraded, clad only in my underware before them.They knew they were about to witness a spectacle that had not been seen in centuries. As I left the building, I got the first good look at where I was. The place was a sort of hunting lodge deep in the woods. It consisted of a complexe of three main buildings that surrounded a sort of courtyard on three sides. Their was the main building, where my trial had just been held. This was a sort of main hall and dining room. On each side there was another long building that must have been sleeping quarters. All were constructed of logs and the whole place had a rustic look to it. There were also several small outbuilding scattered throughout the property. The whole area was surrounded by trees and scrubrush typical of the southwest. It felt very isolated. The three main building surrounded a small courtyard on three sides. In the center of this courtyard there was a wooden post about one foot in diameter and 8 feet tall. It had two heavy iron rings imbedded at the top , two located about midway up and two at the bottom. By the loose dirt at the base, it looked like it had been installed very recently. I knew immediatly that it was the whipping post where I would be scourged the next day. About 100 feet away, stood two more posts. They were slightly smaller and located about 6 feet apart. They stood about 8 feet tall and were connected at the top by a crossbeam. This created a sort of frame into which were several iron rings were attached. One at each corner and a large one directly in the center of the crossbeam. This was to be the location where most of my torture would take place.
The Executioners ordered me to stand and quickly ushered me towards the door. The crowd watched in silence. I could tell that their mood had changed. They were no longer laughing and making fun of me. They had turned quite serious in anticipation of what was to come. Most of them had been in on tha planning of the event and knew the details of the ordeal I was about to undergo. Now they watched in silent witness as I was paraded, clad only in my underware before them.They knew they were about to witness a spectacle that had not been seen in centuries. As I left the building, I got the first good look at where I was. The place was a sort of hunting lodge deep in the woods. It consisted of a complexe of three main buildings that surrounded a sort of courtyard on three sides. Their was the main building, where my trial had just been held. This was a sort of main hall and dining room. On each side there was another long building that must have been sleeping quarters. All were constructed of logs and the whole place had a rustic look to it. There were also several small outbuilding scattered throughout the property. The whole area was surrounded by trees and scrubrush typical of the southwest. It felt very isolated. The three main building surrounded a small courtyard on three sides. In the center of this courtyard there was a wooden post about one foot in diameter and 8 feet tall. It had two heavy iron rings imbedded at the top , two located about midway up and two at the bottom. By the loose dirt at the base, it looked like it had been installed very recently. I knew immediatly that it was the whipping post where I would be scourged the next day. About 100 feet away, stood two more posts. They were slightly smaller and located about 6 feet apart. They stood about 8 feet tall and were connected at the top by a crossbeam. This created a sort of frame into which were several iron rings were attached. One at each corner and a large one directly in the center of the crossbeam. This was to be the location where most of my torture would take place.
onthecross
Guard
Fantasy - Part 7 con't
The Executioners led me towards the two posts. The crowd followed. As we neared the colums, I noticed a very attractive women in her early 20s'. She was starring at my white bikini underware and my very erect member pushing against the fabric. Our eyes met for an instant when she realised that I had noticed her. I was very embarressed to think that she was going to witness me being completely stripped of all dignity, layed bare and tortured before her eyes. I began to look, for the first time, at the others and realised that these people, complete strangers without any sympathy or compassion for me, were going to watch my will and body be broken by the ordeal of the cross. I was here, before them, preparing to suffer the passion of the cross for their entertainment and enjoyment. I began to feel the terror victims must have felt long ago as they faced the ordeal knowing that the outcome was a certainty. All of a sudden the thought that I was going to suffer unimaginable pain was real and present. It was also unbareble. I would have done anything to get out of my situation and not go through with it.
I closed my eyes for a few seconds as the Guards positioned me between the posts, almost trying to wish the whole thing into being a dream. But it was all too real. My arms were untied from behind my back. One guard on each side took hold of an arm and wrapped a rope around the wrist and tightly tied it. He then threaded the other end of the rope through a ring in the upper corner of the frame. Both guards simultaniously started pulling on the ropes forcing my arms up and apart. They pulled until I was standing in a "Y" position almost on my toes. They quickly tied off the ropes to the rings near the center of the posts.
The attractive young woman was standing directly in front of me and starring intently. As our eyes met, the guards took hold of my underware and began to lower it. Even though I was feeling an overwelmning sense of embarrasment at being exposed in this manner, I couldn't look away. We just kept starring at each other as the guards removed my underware and tied my ankles . She watched as they threaded the ropes through the rings at the base of the posts and forced my legs apart until I was standing on the ends of my toes, and tied the ends off. I was now spread-eagled between the colums in front of her.
One of the guards spoke" Adam Smith, you have, this day, been sentenced to death by crucifixion, As additional punishment for your hainous crimes, you are to be subjected to the ordeal of torture from this moment until tomorrow, the day of your crucifixion. You are to submit to all methods of torture inflicted upon you without protest. You are not to beg for mercy or cry out when undergoing torture. If you do, additional tortures will be inflicted on you. No mercy whatsoever will be shown to you. These measures are part of your sentence and will be carried out. Do you understand?" I nodded that I understood. Two guards approched with a large wooden chest. They layed it down in front of me and opened the lid. Inside, I could see an array of implements of torture that were going to be used on me in the coming hours.
My Executioners went to work immediatly...
The Executioners led me towards the two posts. The crowd followed. As we neared the colums, I noticed a very attractive women in her early 20s'. She was starring at my white bikini underware and my very erect member pushing against the fabric. Our eyes met for an instant when she realised that I had noticed her. I was very embarressed to think that she was going to witness me being completely stripped of all dignity, layed bare and tortured before her eyes. I began to look, for the first time, at the others and realised that these people, complete strangers without any sympathy or compassion for me, were going to watch my will and body be broken by the ordeal of the cross. I was here, before them, preparing to suffer the passion of the cross for their entertainment and enjoyment. I began to feel the terror victims must have felt long ago as they faced the ordeal knowing that the outcome was a certainty. All of a sudden the thought that I was going to suffer unimaginable pain was real and present. It was also unbareble. I would have done anything to get out of my situation and not go through with it.
I closed my eyes for a few seconds as the Guards positioned me between the posts, almost trying to wish the whole thing into being a dream. But it was all too real. My arms were untied from behind my back. One guard on each side took hold of an arm and wrapped a rope around the wrist and tightly tied it. He then threaded the other end of the rope through a ring in the upper corner of the frame. Both guards simultaniously started pulling on the ropes forcing my arms up and apart. They pulled until I was standing in a "Y" position almost on my toes. They quickly tied off the ropes to the rings near the center of the posts.
The attractive young woman was standing directly in front of me and starring intently. As our eyes met, the guards took hold of my underware and began to lower it. Even though I was feeling an overwelmning sense of embarrasment at being exposed in this manner, I couldn't look away. We just kept starring at each other as the guards removed my underware and tied my ankles . She watched as they threaded the ropes through the rings at the base of the posts and forced my legs apart until I was standing on the ends of my toes, and tied the ends off. I was now spread-eagled between the colums in front of her.
One of the guards spoke" Adam Smith, you have, this day, been sentenced to death by crucifixion, As additional punishment for your hainous crimes, you are to be subjected to the ordeal of torture from this moment until tomorrow, the day of your crucifixion. You are to submit to all methods of torture inflicted upon you without protest. You are not to beg for mercy or cry out when undergoing torture. If you do, additional tortures will be inflicted on you. No mercy whatsoever will be shown to you. These measures are part of your sentence and will be carried out. Do you understand?" I nodded that I understood. Two guards approched with a large wooden chest. They layed it down in front of me and opened the lid. Inside, I could see an array of implements of torture that were going to be used on me in the coming hours.
My Executioners went to work immediatly...
onthecross
Guard
Fantasy - Part 8
The Guard who read out my sentence went to the chest and took out a sort of metal glove made out of chainlink. It looked like something that belonged to knights of the middle ages. It was heavy and the palm was covered with small metal studs. He put it on and came towards me. With it, he took hold of my balls and slowly began to squeeze. I tried to pull away, but of course, I couldn't. The pain grew as he coutinued. I could feel the metal studs painfully pressing in. I began to breath quickly as the pain increased. Then he started to pull and twist as he countinued to tighten his grip. The pain was now unbearable. With all my streagth, I started to pull at the ropes to get away. I was trying not to scream but was, by now, moaning loudly. He continued. I was pulling so hard to get away that my feet were no longer touching the ground. The pain was so great that I didn't even notice that I was hanging from only my wrists. The crowd watched in silence as he continued squeezing and twisting. He smiled as I hung there moaning in agony. Every time I stopped he'd squeeze and twist harder so I would start again. This countinued unabatted. It felt as though my balls were being turned to mush. I had never felt such pain but this was just a taste of what was to come. My torture was now underway.
After about 20 minutes he finally realised his grip. He stood back for a few minutes to admire his work so far. I was covered in sweat and shaking from the ordeal. He went back to the trunk, threw the glove in and took out a short quirt (whip). It was only about 18 inches long and had a curved handle. It didn't look particularly menacing. In fact, it looked fancy, like something you'd see in a high end riding shop. He made a point of showing it to me and said "It bites worst than it looks". He then took position behind me and furiously laid into me. The blows rained down without letup. For about 15 minutes he whipped my naked body. The pain grew worst as time went on. Before long it hurt more than the gloved hand. It was unbareble. I began to scream as the blows fell. It was a wall of pain. My entire backside, my legs, buttocks, back and shoulders were being pummelled with the whip. It felt like I had been set on fire. He finally stopped when he tired and needed a break.
I just hung there, completely limp, held up by my bonds. I was exhausted and dripping with sweat in to hot sun. The crowd was becoming more relaxed and settling into their roles. People were starting to make fun of me again and comment on my ordeal. "I hope he doesn't die before we get him up on the cross." someone said." "He's still got a few hours left there before it's over." I heard. " Don't worry, he'll last. He's in good shape."
By now, it was quite hot, the mid-afternoon sun was beating down. The group decided to take a break from the sun and get something to drink. I was shown no such mercy. I was left to hang between the posts in the hot sun. I was now nothing more than a condemned prisoner who was going to die on the cross the next day. There was no need to show any sympathy. I understood this. The ordeal of crucifixion was starting to break me down. This was no longer a fantasy for me, it had become reality and I was beginning to truly accept my fate. I knew that the outcome was now certain. I was going to suffer as the worst criminals did in ancient Rome. Until now, I wasn't sure how real the whole scene was going to be. I thought maybe it was going to be just a very intense S&M session. But I could tell from the brutality of the tortures that I was being subjected to that this was not going to be the case. Fot me, the outcome was going to be authentic, I was going to have to faces the nails. After all, isn't that what I deserved?
After a few minutes, I managed to regain enough composer to realise what was going on around me. The crowd was relaxing and talking about what was going on. They were looking at me and commenting on my condition and reaction to the ordeal. From their conversations, I could tell it was far from over. As I looked around I saw the young woman. She was staring at me continuously. As our eyes met, a strange feeling came over me. It was a feeling of dread mixed with passion. I could tell that she wanted me to suffer. She wanted to watch as I suffered as much as possible. But there was even more, it was as if she needed me to suffer, she craved it. There was a hunger in her eyes. It was as if she needed a victim just for her. A victim who would go through unspeakable suffering for her. A victim willing hang from the cross and die upon it for her. That was it! She wanted me to go willingly and be crucified just for her. She wanted me to accept the nails for her.
As I gazed at her, transfixed. the crowd gathered 'round. My ordeal was about to continue anew. One of the guards came back with a small sort of charcoal grill. He laid it down several feet away and set about lighting the charcoal bricks. The guard who acted as chief torturer returned and took a pair of alligator clips out of the trunk. They were each about 2 inches long and the teeth were barbed. The spring were large and, I could tell by the difficulty he had opening the jaws, very strong. He took hold of my left nipple, pinched it and placed the clip on it. The pain was immediate and excruciating as soon as he released it. It radiated throughout my chest. He quickly clamped the other one on my right nipple. The pain doubled. It was different from before because, now the pain was unremmitting. It was a countinuing pain that didn't let up as before. It just grew worst as time went on and the teeth bit deeper and deeper into me. He stood back and watched as I moaned loudly. He just let me hang there and let the clips do their work. After, I don't know how long, he came over and remover one of them. It was like a bolt of lightning. The pain was even greater then when he put it on. He waited for the pain to subside a bit and then, put it back on, causing even more pain. He repeated this with the other one and then continued the process for at least an hour. Each time the level if pain increased. By now I was screaming in agony and begging for him to stop. But to no avail. The pain had grown to the point where it was beyond unbearable. I was now truly being tortured. All my mind could think of was the pain. It was real and present. He finally removed the clips for the last time.
As the pain subsided, I noticed that some irons were being heated on the grill. As the crowd looked on, the older man who acted as Judge at my trial took hold of the irons and approched me. He slowly showed me the irons and spoke, " As a sign of your guilt and as a mark of your ordeal you shall bear the mark of the cross for the rest of your life." He then took the irons began to slowly burn a cross into my chest starting from my sternum and going to just above the base of my erect member. I was screaming and convulcing in pain as he continued. I could smell my flesh burning as the irons made their mark. When he was done, he stepped back to admire his handywork. After several moments, he turned to the crowd and asked, "what shall we do with him?" They began to cheer and chant, "Curcify him, Crucify him,Crucify him".
By now the sun was setting. They began to untie me from the posts. First my ankles and then my wrists. I collapsed on the ground exhausted and unable to move. After several minutes someone gave me a bottle of water to drink. I managed to drink it and some of my strength returned. One of the guards threw me my underware and said " Put them back on." With difficulty, I managed. They placed a noose around my neck, took hold of my arms and pulled me to my feet. With my arms limp at my sides they led me towards one of the buildings on the property that was to serve as my cell for the night.
The inside of the building was empty. Except in the center was a wooden horse. It was about 4 feet tall. There were four legs that held a wooden board about 8 inches wide by 1 inch thick at the base and tapered to a point at the top. The board was standing edgewise and was about 6 feet long. The legs were attached at an angle at the ends and were fastened to the floor. Above it hung a set of iron shackles that were suspended from the ceiling. The wrist cuffs were about 12 inches above the top of the horse. There were also a set of ankle irons attached to the floor. I was told to get on it. They pushed me towards it and forced me on it. I had one leg straddling each side of the board and my feet dangled a few inches above the floor. My entire weight was on my crotch. I used my arms to steady myself and take some of the weight off. The guards bent over and clamped my ankles in irons. This prevented me from lifting my legs to get off. They then stood up, took hold of my wrists, pulled them behind my back and placed the cuffs on them. This way, all my weight was on my crotch that was supported by the sharp edge of the board. I was going to ride the wooden pony for the night. My torture would continue until morning and the time of my crucifixion. once the guarde made sure that my shackles were secure they left the cabin and locked the door. This is how I was to spent my last night, almost naked, mounted on the sharp edge of a wooden horse, left to suffer in the dark and contemplate my fate.
I was alone for the first time since my capture. The pain increased as time went on. After several hours, I was able to think again, even though I was in constant agony. I began to reflect on what was going to happen to me in the morning. I knew that I was going to be crucified. I wondered if they were actually going to nail me to the cross or use ropes. When I agreed to become the victim I had assumed that ropes would be used. But now it was apparent that the crowd wanted the real thing. The torture had been real and I could tell that the young woman wanted me nailed to the cross. I imagined the pain when the nails would be driven thru my wrists and ankles. I had read accounts of how victims screamed out and struggled with all their strength when the nails were being driven in and how they dances for hours until all their energy was gone trying to releve the pain. I could see myself attached to the patibullum, being raised and fixed in place. I knew the pain was going to be unimaginable when my feet left the ground and I hung from only the nails driven thru my wrists. I knew it would be several minutes until the patibullum is fixed to the stipes. I thought of myself stuggling on the cross for hours as the crowd looked on. I could picture myself hanging there for her.
After several hours,I was in a semi-conscious state. I couldn't sleep of course, but I was not completely couscious either. It was a sort of in between state. I was jared to my senses by the sound of the door opening. It was still completely dark outside. I couldn't see who was in the room, but I sensed it was her. She closed the door. From the light now in the room, I could tell that she had a lantern of some kind. It gave off just enough light that I could see. For several minutes she said nothing, she just watched me. Finally, I sensed that she was coming near. I felt her hand on my shoulder. "Adam" she said, " I knew you were the one that was going to go through with it. I could tell, you craved it. When we spoke in the chat room I knew you were going to end up on the cross. The way you talked about what it was going to be like to be up there, in front of everybody, suffering for your crimes. I knew you'd find a way. I wish I could be up there with you, but some of us... Promises me that you'll go all the way. I want to watch you go all tha way. When they ask you if you want the nails, say yes. Take the nails for me, please. I need you to take them." I knew who she was. We had chatted many, many times about what it would be like to be crucified and what the victim would feel on the way to the cross. She told me she craved it as much as I did. She wanted to fell it, like me. She had to know what it was like. And now she was asking me to go all the way so she could. I muttered that I would. She gentilaly ran her hand down my trembling leg and thanked me. Slowly, she turned away and left the room. I was alone again. Slowly, I could see the light of the sunrise growing stronger. Daybreak was coming. The day of my crucifixion had arrived. I could here people moving about outside the cabin. The final preparations were being made. Finally, I heard someone unlocking the door.
As the light from outside entered the room, three guards entered. Without sayin a word, they started undoing my shackles. First my ankles and than, my wrists were released. The feeling had returned to my arms during the night but my legs were very unsteady and weak from my night on the horse. My wrists were tied in front of me with a long piece of rope and I was led out. The sun was already hot and I knew it couldn't be any later than 8 a.m. I thought about what it was going to be like when I was up on the cross in a few hours. But I knew the sun was not going to be the worst of my problems. The guards led me towards an outside shower. I was given some soap and a razor and told to get in and clean myself up. They said that the Judge wanted me presentable for my execution. I did as I was told. I removed my underware and socks, got in and turned on the water. I was so thirsty that I started drinking from the shower head. I washed and shaved as directed. After about 10 or 15 minutes they told me to get out. I turned off the water and was given a towel. After I dried myself, I was told to put the few articles of clothing I had back on. They then retied my wrists and started leading me towards the courtyard.
When we arrived, there was a crowd of people gathered. there were at least twice as many as the day before. They were standing surrounding the whipping post. There was also a table set up at which sat the Judge and two others. I was led in front of them. As I stood there, I saw an array of whips and floggers laid out on the table. Beside it, on the ground lay a patibullum and several lengths of rope. There was also a bucket containing a couple of mallets and a bunch of large squared nails of varying lengths. I could feel the tension in those gathered. This was it.The main event was about to begin any second. My heart raced and my breath quickened. The three seated at the table whispered among themselves for a few minutes. The anticipation was unbearable, I felt like I could pass out. Suddenly the Judge began to speak,"Adam Smith, You are brought before us this day, the appointed day of your execution for the sentence to be carried out in accordance with the law. The method chosen for your execution is the method of public crucifixion. It is hereby ordered that you are to receive 78 lashes of the whip. You are then to carry the instrument upon which you will die on your shoulders from here to the place of your crucifixion. Once there, you are to be fastened to it and then raised and fastened to a cross. You are to be relieved of any articles of clothing that you may still possess at that time. You are to remain on the cross until you are dead. Do you understand?" "Yes" I answered. He continued, "Very well, Captain of the Guards, are you ready? "Yes, Your Honour" he replied. "Carry out the sentence" ordered the Judge. And with that it began. My crucifixion was underway
The Guards took hold of the rope and pulled me towards the whipping post. I was about to receive my scourging. When we got to the post, they made me stand facing it and took the rope with which my hands were tied and passed it through one of the iron rings at the top. Two of the guards started pulling on it, forcing my arms up. They pulled until my arms were nearly to the top of the post and my feet barely touched the ground. They then tied the rope in place. By tying me in this manner it would be possible, when the time came to turn me around to face my executioner's whip without releasing my wrists and allowing me to fall to the ground. They then bent down, took hold of my ankles and postioned them at the sides of the post and tied them to the iron rings at the base. The result was that I was stretched out almost the complete length of the post and bound to it in such a manner that I was forced to lean back and place my weight on the rope around my wrists. My erect member was also forced to rub against the post by my awkward position.
When I was secure one of the executioners went to the table and took hold of one of the whips. It was a large single tailed bullwhip measuring about 10 feet long. He took up position behind me and cracked the whip a few times for the crowd. When he was ready he began. The whip hurled through the air making a hissing sound and landed in the small of my back with a crack. The force of the impact knocked the breath out of me. Immediatly, I felt the stinging sensation. It burned like the hot irons on my abdomen. Before I could regain my breath, the second blow landed on my shoulders again knocking the wind out of me. Slowly and methodically, he continued, postioning each lash in a specific location. The pain grew with each lash. The difference with the hot irons was that here, in addition to the fire of the lash that was as intense as the irons, there was also the force of the impact of the whip that almost knocked out my wind with every blow.I managed to maintain control for the first five or six strikes of the whip, but after that I started to quickly lose my composer. The pain was far worst than the previous day. By the tenth blow I was out of control. I was begging for them to stop and pleading for mercy. He had me where he wanted me. But of course, it was all for nothing. My fate had been sealed. I was going to have to endure the full 78 lashes without any possibility of mercy.
I was sentenced to die by crucifixion and this was integral part of the process. It was designed to make the victim suffer and prepare him for the agony of the cross. It was also designed to break his will to resist and embrace his fate. In ancient times, the scene of the scourging of the victim was unbearable to watch. The victim cried out for mercy and begged for the executioner to stop. They were torn to shreds by the whip in front of the crowd and robbed of all dignity. This was now happening to me. The crowd watch in awe as the executioner went about his work. He was absolutly merciless. Each kiss of the whip was leaving a long red mark. I think he prefered the bullwhip because of the criss-cross pattern it left behind because he used it for most of the flogging. Each time the whip struck, my body lurched forward against the post and my member slammed hard into the wood. After many many lashes, I had long since lost count, he stopped. I was covered in sweat and almost unconscious from the beating. My entire backside was covered in long bright red lines, many of the bleeding.
Two of the guards approched me, bent over and untied my ankles. I was then turned around to face the whip. My ankles were then retied so I couldn't turn. The executioner quickly took up position in front of me, making sure I could see him and resumed the flogging. The first blow landed across my chest. This was even more painful than the back because there is no fat to cushion the blows. They fall directly on muscule and bone. He stuck again across my abdomen and regained the rythem he had before the pause. The blows fell on the entire front of my body from below my shoulders to my thighs. The pain was excurciating. I tried with all my streagth to pull away from the whip, but of course, this was impossible. He specifically positioned several blows on my member and balls. I screamed for mercy. It felt like they had been cut off. But he continued at his task. I was being prepared for the cross. He finally stopped. I just hung there, almost unconscious from the beating. After what must have been several minutes, I managed to look up. As I look around, I saw the young woman standing directly in front of me and starring transfixed at my sweating, beaten body. I saw in her eyes that she was getting what she needed. The crowd was excited and getting anxious for the next step.
The Judge got up from the table and motioned the executioner over. They spoke in hushed tones for a moment. The executioner then places his bullwhip on the table and slowly picked up a replica of a roman scourge. The crowd cheered as he slammed it into the table. He pulled it up, splinters flying, and came towards me. When he got near, he addressed me in a low voice,"You've received 70 lashes, There's 8 to go. If you're prepared to got all the way with this, I'm gonna finish it off with this". He showed me the scourge. It had 5 or 6 long breaded tails made out if leather. Into the breads were woven dozens of sharpe metal spurrs. I knew it would hurt like hell and tear me to pieces with every blow. I looked around and saw the woman again, her eyes told me I had to go through with it, just like I'd said. There was no way out for me. I was getting exactly what I deserved. My gaze turned to the Executioners and I nodded "Yes". I was prepared to suffer the passion of the cross in all it's horrors for my crimes. Two guards came forward and untied my ankles and turned me around. They didn't bother to retie them. I just hung there from my wrists. They wanted to see me dance. The first blow of the scourge hit across my shoulders. It felt like lightning. The pain made all my senses come rushing back. I cried out. He struck again. I could feel my back being torn to shreds by the scourge. It was far worst than the bullwhip. I was in a world of only pain, nothing else. I couldn't see, I couldn't think, I couldn't move. there was nothing but pain. The blows continued. I was actually being scourged exactly like in ancient Rome. It was over in less than a minute, but it felt like hours. The pain continued to radiate even after he finished. I was in total agony, hanging from my wrists, unable to even move.
My scourging was over...
The Guard who read out my sentence went to the chest and took out a sort of metal glove made out of chainlink. It looked like something that belonged to knights of the middle ages. It was heavy and the palm was covered with small metal studs. He put it on and came towards me. With it, he took hold of my balls and slowly began to squeeze. I tried to pull away, but of course, I couldn't. The pain grew as he coutinued. I could feel the metal studs painfully pressing in. I began to breath quickly as the pain increased. Then he started to pull and twist as he countinued to tighten his grip. The pain was now unbearable. With all my streagth, I started to pull at the ropes to get away. I was trying not to scream but was, by now, moaning loudly. He continued. I was pulling so hard to get away that my feet were no longer touching the ground. The pain was so great that I didn't even notice that I was hanging from only my wrists. The crowd watched in silence as he continued squeezing and twisting. He smiled as I hung there moaning in agony. Every time I stopped he'd squeeze and twist harder so I would start again. This countinued unabatted. It felt as though my balls were being turned to mush. I had never felt such pain but this was just a taste of what was to come. My torture was now underway.
After about 20 minutes he finally realised his grip. He stood back for a few minutes to admire his work so far. I was covered in sweat and shaking from the ordeal. He went back to the trunk, threw the glove in and took out a short quirt (whip). It was only about 18 inches long and had a curved handle. It didn't look particularly menacing. In fact, it looked fancy, like something you'd see in a high end riding shop. He made a point of showing it to me and said "It bites worst than it looks". He then took position behind me and furiously laid into me. The blows rained down without letup. For about 15 minutes he whipped my naked body. The pain grew worst as time went on. Before long it hurt more than the gloved hand. It was unbareble. I began to scream as the blows fell. It was a wall of pain. My entire backside, my legs, buttocks, back and shoulders were being pummelled with the whip. It felt like I had been set on fire. He finally stopped when he tired and needed a break.
I just hung there, completely limp, held up by my bonds. I was exhausted and dripping with sweat in to hot sun. The crowd was becoming more relaxed and settling into their roles. People were starting to make fun of me again and comment on my ordeal. "I hope he doesn't die before we get him up on the cross." someone said." "He's still got a few hours left there before it's over." I heard. " Don't worry, he'll last. He's in good shape."
By now, it was quite hot, the mid-afternoon sun was beating down. The group decided to take a break from the sun and get something to drink. I was shown no such mercy. I was left to hang between the posts in the hot sun. I was now nothing more than a condemned prisoner who was going to die on the cross the next day. There was no need to show any sympathy. I understood this. The ordeal of crucifixion was starting to break me down. This was no longer a fantasy for me, it had become reality and I was beginning to truly accept my fate. I knew that the outcome was now certain. I was going to suffer as the worst criminals did in ancient Rome. Until now, I wasn't sure how real the whole scene was going to be. I thought maybe it was going to be just a very intense S&M session. But I could tell from the brutality of the tortures that I was being subjected to that this was not going to be the case. Fot me, the outcome was going to be authentic, I was going to have to faces the nails. After all, isn't that what I deserved?
After a few minutes, I managed to regain enough composer to realise what was going on around me. The crowd was relaxing and talking about what was going on. They were looking at me and commenting on my condition and reaction to the ordeal. From their conversations, I could tell it was far from over. As I looked around I saw the young woman. She was staring at me continuously. As our eyes met, a strange feeling came over me. It was a feeling of dread mixed with passion. I could tell that she wanted me to suffer. She wanted to watch as I suffered as much as possible. But there was even more, it was as if she needed me to suffer, she craved it. There was a hunger in her eyes. It was as if she needed a victim just for her. A victim who would go through unspeakable suffering for her. A victim willing hang from the cross and die upon it for her. That was it! She wanted me to go willingly and be crucified just for her. She wanted me to accept the nails for her.
As I gazed at her, transfixed. the crowd gathered 'round. My ordeal was about to continue anew. One of the guards came back with a small sort of charcoal grill. He laid it down several feet away and set about lighting the charcoal bricks. The guard who acted as chief torturer returned and took a pair of alligator clips out of the trunk. They were each about 2 inches long and the teeth were barbed. The spring were large and, I could tell by the difficulty he had opening the jaws, very strong. He took hold of my left nipple, pinched it and placed the clip on it. The pain was immediate and excruciating as soon as he released it. It radiated throughout my chest. He quickly clamped the other one on my right nipple. The pain doubled. It was different from before because, now the pain was unremmitting. It was a countinuing pain that didn't let up as before. It just grew worst as time went on and the teeth bit deeper and deeper into me. He stood back and watched as I moaned loudly. He just let me hang there and let the clips do their work. After, I don't know how long, he came over and remover one of them. It was like a bolt of lightning. The pain was even greater then when he put it on. He waited for the pain to subside a bit and then, put it back on, causing even more pain. He repeated this with the other one and then continued the process for at least an hour. Each time the level if pain increased. By now I was screaming in agony and begging for him to stop. But to no avail. The pain had grown to the point where it was beyond unbearable. I was now truly being tortured. All my mind could think of was the pain. It was real and present. He finally removed the clips for the last time.
As the pain subsided, I noticed that some irons were being heated on the grill. As the crowd looked on, the older man who acted as Judge at my trial took hold of the irons and approched me. He slowly showed me the irons and spoke, " As a sign of your guilt and as a mark of your ordeal you shall bear the mark of the cross for the rest of your life." He then took the irons began to slowly burn a cross into my chest starting from my sternum and going to just above the base of my erect member. I was screaming and convulcing in pain as he continued. I could smell my flesh burning as the irons made their mark. When he was done, he stepped back to admire his handywork. After several moments, he turned to the crowd and asked, "what shall we do with him?" They began to cheer and chant, "Curcify him, Crucify him,Crucify him".
By now the sun was setting. They began to untie me from the posts. First my ankles and then my wrists. I collapsed on the ground exhausted and unable to move. After several minutes someone gave me a bottle of water to drink. I managed to drink it and some of my strength returned. One of the guards threw me my underware and said " Put them back on." With difficulty, I managed. They placed a noose around my neck, took hold of my arms and pulled me to my feet. With my arms limp at my sides they led me towards one of the buildings on the property that was to serve as my cell for the night.
The inside of the building was empty. Except in the center was a wooden horse. It was about 4 feet tall. There were four legs that held a wooden board about 8 inches wide by 1 inch thick at the base and tapered to a point at the top. The board was standing edgewise and was about 6 feet long. The legs were attached at an angle at the ends and were fastened to the floor. Above it hung a set of iron shackles that were suspended from the ceiling. The wrist cuffs were about 12 inches above the top of the horse. There were also a set of ankle irons attached to the floor. I was told to get on it. They pushed me towards it and forced me on it. I had one leg straddling each side of the board and my feet dangled a few inches above the floor. My entire weight was on my crotch. I used my arms to steady myself and take some of the weight off. The guards bent over and clamped my ankles in irons. This prevented me from lifting my legs to get off. They then stood up, took hold of my wrists, pulled them behind my back and placed the cuffs on them. This way, all my weight was on my crotch that was supported by the sharp edge of the board. I was going to ride the wooden pony for the night. My torture would continue until morning and the time of my crucifixion. once the guarde made sure that my shackles were secure they left the cabin and locked the door. This is how I was to spent my last night, almost naked, mounted on the sharp edge of a wooden horse, left to suffer in the dark and contemplate my fate.
I was alone for the first time since my capture. The pain increased as time went on. After several hours, I was able to think again, even though I was in constant agony. I began to reflect on what was going to happen to me in the morning. I knew that I was going to be crucified. I wondered if they were actually going to nail me to the cross or use ropes. When I agreed to become the victim I had assumed that ropes would be used. But now it was apparent that the crowd wanted the real thing. The torture had been real and I could tell that the young woman wanted me nailed to the cross. I imagined the pain when the nails would be driven thru my wrists and ankles. I had read accounts of how victims screamed out and struggled with all their strength when the nails were being driven in and how they dances for hours until all their energy was gone trying to releve the pain. I could see myself attached to the patibullum, being raised and fixed in place. I knew the pain was going to be unimaginable when my feet left the ground and I hung from only the nails driven thru my wrists. I knew it would be several minutes until the patibullum is fixed to the stipes. I thought of myself stuggling on the cross for hours as the crowd looked on. I could picture myself hanging there for her.
After several hours,I was in a semi-conscious state. I couldn't sleep of course, but I was not completely couscious either. It was a sort of in between state. I was jared to my senses by the sound of the door opening. It was still completely dark outside. I couldn't see who was in the room, but I sensed it was her. She closed the door. From the light now in the room, I could tell that she had a lantern of some kind. It gave off just enough light that I could see. For several minutes she said nothing, she just watched me. Finally, I sensed that she was coming near. I felt her hand on my shoulder. "Adam" she said, " I knew you were the one that was going to go through with it. I could tell, you craved it. When we spoke in the chat room I knew you were going to end up on the cross. The way you talked about what it was going to be like to be up there, in front of everybody, suffering for your crimes. I knew you'd find a way. I wish I could be up there with you, but some of us... Promises me that you'll go all the way. I want to watch you go all tha way. When they ask you if you want the nails, say yes. Take the nails for me, please. I need you to take them." I knew who she was. We had chatted many, many times about what it would be like to be crucified and what the victim would feel on the way to the cross. She told me she craved it as much as I did. She wanted to fell it, like me. She had to know what it was like. And now she was asking me to go all the way so she could. I muttered that I would. She gentilaly ran her hand down my trembling leg and thanked me. Slowly, she turned away and left the room. I was alone again. Slowly, I could see the light of the sunrise growing stronger. Daybreak was coming. The day of my crucifixion had arrived. I could here people moving about outside the cabin. The final preparations were being made. Finally, I heard someone unlocking the door.
As the light from outside entered the room, three guards entered. Without sayin a word, they started undoing my shackles. First my ankles and than, my wrists were released. The feeling had returned to my arms during the night but my legs were very unsteady and weak from my night on the horse. My wrists were tied in front of me with a long piece of rope and I was led out. The sun was already hot and I knew it couldn't be any later than 8 a.m. I thought about what it was going to be like when I was up on the cross in a few hours. But I knew the sun was not going to be the worst of my problems. The guards led me towards an outside shower. I was given some soap and a razor and told to get in and clean myself up. They said that the Judge wanted me presentable for my execution. I did as I was told. I removed my underware and socks, got in and turned on the water. I was so thirsty that I started drinking from the shower head. I washed and shaved as directed. After about 10 or 15 minutes they told me to get out. I turned off the water and was given a towel. After I dried myself, I was told to put the few articles of clothing I had back on. They then retied my wrists and started leading me towards the courtyard.
When we arrived, there was a crowd of people gathered. there were at least twice as many as the day before. They were standing surrounding the whipping post. There was also a table set up at which sat the Judge and two others. I was led in front of them. As I stood there, I saw an array of whips and floggers laid out on the table. Beside it, on the ground lay a patibullum and several lengths of rope. There was also a bucket containing a couple of mallets and a bunch of large squared nails of varying lengths. I could feel the tension in those gathered. This was it.The main event was about to begin any second. My heart raced and my breath quickened. The three seated at the table whispered among themselves for a few minutes. The anticipation was unbearable, I felt like I could pass out. Suddenly the Judge began to speak,"Adam Smith, You are brought before us this day, the appointed day of your execution for the sentence to be carried out in accordance with the law. The method chosen for your execution is the method of public crucifixion. It is hereby ordered that you are to receive 78 lashes of the whip. You are then to carry the instrument upon which you will die on your shoulders from here to the place of your crucifixion. Once there, you are to be fastened to it and then raised and fastened to a cross. You are to be relieved of any articles of clothing that you may still possess at that time. You are to remain on the cross until you are dead. Do you understand?" "Yes" I answered. He continued, "Very well, Captain of the Guards, are you ready? "Yes, Your Honour" he replied. "Carry out the sentence" ordered the Judge. And with that it began. My crucifixion was underway
The Guards took hold of the rope and pulled me towards the whipping post. I was about to receive my scourging. When we got to the post, they made me stand facing it and took the rope with which my hands were tied and passed it through one of the iron rings at the top. Two of the guards started pulling on it, forcing my arms up. They pulled until my arms were nearly to the top of the post and my feet barely touched the ground. They then tied the rope in place. By tying me in this manner it would be possible, when the time came to turn me around to face my executioner's whip without releasing my wrists and allowing me to fall to the ground. They then bent down, took hold of my ankles and postioned them at the sides of the post and tied them to the iron rings at the base. The result was that I was stretched out almost the complete length of the post and bound to it in such a manner that I was forced to lean back and place my weight on the rope around my wrists. My erect member was also forced to rub against the post by my awkward position.
When I was secure one of the executioners went to the table and took hold of one of the whips. It was a large single tailed bullwhip measuring about 10 feet long. He took up position behind me and cracked the whip a few times for the crowd. When he was ready he began. The whip hurled through the air making a hissing sound and landed in the small of my back with a crack. The force of the impact knocked the breath out of me. Immediatly, I felt the stinging sensation. It burned like the hot irons on my abdomen. Before I could regain my breath, the second blow landed on my shoulders again knocking the wind out of me. Slowly and methodically, he continued, postioning each lash in a specific location. The pain grew with each lash. The difference with the hot irons was that here, in addition to the fire of the lash that was as intense as the irons, there was also the force of the impact of the whip that almost knocked out my wind with every blow.I managed to maintain control for the first five or six strikes of the whip, but after that I started to quickly lose my composer. The pain was far worst than the previous day. By the tenth blow I was out of control. I was begging for them to stop and pleading for mercy. He had me where he wanted me. But of course, it was all for nothing. My fate had been sealed. I was going to have to endure the full 78 lashes without any possibility of mercy.
I was sentenced to die by crucifixion and this was integral part of the process. It was designed to make the victim suffer and prepare him for the agony of the cross. It was also designed to break his will to resist and embrace his fate. In ancient times, the scene of the scourging of the victim was unbearable to watch. The victim cried out for mercy and begged for the executioner to stop. They were torn to shreds by the whip in front of the crowd and robbed of all dignity. This was now happening to me. The crowd watch in awe as the executioner went about his work. He was absolutly merciless. Each kiss of the whip was leaving a long red mark. I think he prefered the bullwhip because of the criss-cross pattern it left behind because he used it for most of the flogging. Each time the whip struck, my body lurched forward against the post and my member slammed hard into the wood. After many many lashes, I had long since lost count, he stopped. I was covered in sweat and almost unconscious from the beating. My entire backside was covered in long bright red lines, many of the bleeding.
Two of the guards approched me, bent over and untied my ankles. I was then turned around to face the whip. My ankles were then retied so I couldn't turn. The executioner quickly took up position in front of me, making sure I could see him and resumed the flogging. The first blow landed across my chest. This was even more painful than the back because there is no fat to cushion the blows. They fall directly on muscule and bone. He stuck again across my abdomen and regained the rythem he had before the pause. The blows fell on the entire front of my body from below my shoulders to my thighs. The pain was excurciating. I tried with all my streagth to pull away from the whip, but of course, this was impossible. He specifically positioned several blows on my member and balls. I screamed for mercy. It felt like they had been cut off. But he continued at his task. I was being prepared for the cross. He finally stopped. I just hung there, almost unconscious from the beating. After what must have been several minutes, I managed to look up. As I look around, I saw the young woman standing directly in front of me and starring transfixed at my sweating, beaten body. I saw in her eyes that she was getting what she needed. The crowd was excited and getting anxious for the next step.
The Judge got up from the table and motioned the executioner over. They spoke in hushed tones for a moment. The executioner then places his bullwhip on the table and slowly picked up a replica of a roman scourge. The crowd cheered as he slammed it into the table. He pulled it up, splinters flying, and came towards me. When he got near, he addressed me in a low voice,"You've received 70 lashes, There's 8 to go. If you're prepared to got all the way with this, I'm gonna finish it off with this". He showed me the scourge. It had 5 or 6 long breaded tails made out if leather. Into the breads were woven dozens of sharpe metal spurrs. I knew it would hurt like hell and tear me to pieces with every blow. I looked around and saw the woman again, her eyes told me I had to go through with it, just like I'd said. There was no way out for me. I was getting exactly what I deserved. My gaze turned to the Executioners and I nodded "Yes". I was prepared to suffer the passion of the cross in all it's horrors for my crimes. Two guards came forward and untied my ankles and turned me around. They didn't bother to retie them. I just hung there from my wrists. They wanted to see me dance. The first blow of the scourge hit across my shoulders. It felt like lightning. The pain made all my senses come rushing back. I cried out. He struck again. I could feel my back being torn to shreds by the scourge. It was far worst than the bullwhip. I was in a world of only pain, nothing else. I couldn't see, I couldn't think, I couldn't move. there was nothing but pain. The blows continued. I was actually being scourged exactly like in ancient Rome. It was over in less than a minute, but it felt like hours. The pain continued to radiate even after he finished. I was in total agony, hanging from my wrists, unable to even move.
My scourging was over...
onthecross
Guard
Fantasy - Part 9 - The Walk to the Cross
I was about to begin the final leg on my journey to the cross. I was left hanging for several minutes before three of the guards came over and untied me. I fell to the ground as the rope released my wrists. I just lay there, unable to move, at the foot of the whipping post. The guards then took hold of my arms and pulled me so that I laid flat, face down on the ground. I was left there for several more minutes to regain some strength for the march. My hard swollen member, beaten by the whip, throbbed underneath me and I could feel the blood on my back, drying in the sun.
Suddenly, I could feel movement around me. One of the guards took hold of my hair and pulled my head up. He then placed a noose around my neck. As he pulled on it for me to get up, two other guards took hold of my arms and lifted me to my knees. As soon as I was steady, two more guards placed the heavy patibullum on my shoulders. They, then wrapped two long ropes around my arms and the patibullum and secured it in place. I was then lifted to my feet and my long death march began.
By now, it was almost 11 a.m. The sun was getting hot and I was sweating from the scourging and the heat. The patibullum was rubbing on my raw shoulders and caused considerable pain. It was very heavy and made of rough, unplanned wood. It was a little under 6 feet in length and about 6 or 7 inches square. From the weight, I was pretty sure it was made out of hardwood. It had a slot, about 6 inches long by 2 inches wide cut into the centre, running lengthwise. This was going to fit over the peg cut into the top of th stipes to form the cross. There was also two iron rings imbedded into the top, one on each side of the slot. The ends were very slightly tapered in. It had been placed on my shoulders and my arms drapped over it and then fastened using rough manilla rope tied very tightly. The rubbing on my raw shoulders caused a burning pain with every step I took.
The guard holding the rope pulled me forward and ordered me to walk. The other members of the execution squad surrounded me with whips in hand. Slowly, I began to trudge towards the place where I would discover the true meaning of crucifixion. If I slowed down or faltered, I was beaten until I picked up the pace. With this the death march began. We marched into the woods, away from the camp. We were on a narrow path with trees on both sides. Many times I was forced to turn sideways to get through 2 trees. The crowd of onlookers followed, mocking and taunting me. They called out to the guards to beat me so that I would move faster. The guards frequently obliged. I felt the sting of their whips countless times as the procession continued through the wood.
As I staggered forward, I reflected on my situation. I was begin mercilessly driven through the forest to the place of my execution. My body was covered with the cris-cross pattern of the whip, front and back. I had the sign of the cross branded into my chest. I had on only my underware concealing my still erect member and balls swollen to twice their size by the torture I had endured and they would be gone as soon as we arrived. I knew that I would be completely exposed as I suffered on the cross. This is how it had to be. There can nothing left in the victim as he hangs from the cross. Any dignity or pride must be taken away. Nothing can be hidden from the crowd. That is the beauty of crucifixion. The victim sheds all in front of those assembled to witness. This is what was going to happen to me in the coming hours, and I knew it. This was what everyone was here for. They wanted to see what it was like to see someone suffer the ultimate penalty for his crimes. They wanted to watch as he struggled for hours and, even, days upon the cross, trying to escape his fate. They wanted to see his body broken and racked with pain dancing for them. They wanted to see the cross embrace it victim and squeeze out the last vertiges of pride and dignity without mercy. This is what they craved and I craved it too.
This is why I was here. I had always wanted it. I deserved it. I was finally going to pay for my crimes in a manner fit for them. I had chosen to hang upon the cross. I had chosen to come here. I was the one who insisted on "No Way Out" as we discussed the terms and conditions for the event. I was the one who suggested everything be authentic. I was the one who said the victim chosen could not back out and must hang from the cross exactly as in ancient Rome. I knew there were no other candidates when I let my name stand as victim. I had made sure of it in the chatroom by my conversations with the others. I had manipulated the whole thing to get the outcome that I craved. And now I was going to pay for it. I was going to suffer the fate of countless thousands of other hapless victims. But I truly deserved it. I deserved to hang there for days, naked in the hot sun. I deserved to be nailed up there for all to see. There could be no escape for me. I must suffer for my crimes, truly and completely suffer. The others must see me suffer. They deserve at least that. They deserve to see me die on the cross.
The guards continued to whip me towards my fate. I staggered through the woods for a least an hour. Then I saw it. We came to a very large clearing, and in the center stood a tall, strong upright. The guards drove me harder to get to it. I was there. I was minutes from actually hanging from the cross. A strange calm came over me as I got to the base of the cross. I was ready.
The guard ordered me to stop about 10 feet from the stipes. I stood there with sweat running down, burning my eyes, looking at it. It was about 10 feet tall and 8 inches square. The wood was rough hewned and unplanned. There was no seat or footrest. it was completely streight exept for a notch cut into the top to accept the patibullum. The wood looked weathered, as if it had been there for some time. I looked and saw the crowd gathering 'round. They waited until everyone was ready to begin. The Judge came forward and began to speak, " Adam Smith, you are about to be crucified for your crimes. We, the members of the Crux Forum have decided that, in keeping with the desire of all to witness a true crucifixion that you are to be fastened to the cross by means of nails through your wrists and feet and that you shall be left upon the cross until you are dead, as in ancient Rome." "Nooo" I cried out.
Events speeded up at this point. Two of the guards took hold of the patibullum, still attached to my shoulders, and lowered me onto the guound. My head was now only a few feet from the stipes and I was looking up at it. My arms were pinned under the patibullum with my hands on top. One of the guards took out a ladder and leaned it on the back of the post. He then brought out a large mallet and several thin wooden wedges. He places it all at the base of the ladder. Two other guards took out wooden saw horses and positioned them under where the ends of the patibullum were going to be. They had a wide flat surface on top to stand on and were about 3 feet high. All the guards then took up position around my body, streached out on the ground. As the audience moved in a bit for a better view, they quickly went to work. One of them took out the bucket with the hammer and nails and laid it by my left arm. Three of the guards bent down and untied the rope. They took hold of my arm before I could move and pulled it out from underneath the patibullum. They quickly positioned it on top of the wood and wrapped the rope around my forearm, wrist and palm of my hand. Two of the guards took hold of the ends of the rope and pulled as hard as they could. This way, my hand and wrist were completely immobilized. I could not move them at all. Another of the guards, the heaviest one, got up and stood on the other end of the patibullum, pinning my other arm under it. The two remaining guards each bent over and took hold of one of my legs and held it down. My heart and mind were racing, I knew I was seconds away from it. This was it. I was about to be actually nailed to the cross. I could almost feel the pain that I had craved for so long.
The Captain of the guards reached into the bucket and took out a large iron spike, about 7 inches long and half an inch thick. It was square and had a very sharpe chisel point. The head was a least an inch and a half in diameter and rounded. It was not a type of nail that was commercially available. It had been forged for this event. He then pulled out a large hammer that looked to be about 2 lbs and had a square head and a thick 18 inch handle. Slowly he positioned it on my wrist between tho bones. The crowd was now totally silent. He glanced over at me and lifted the hammer. The other guards all tightened there grips in anticipation of my reaction. He swung the hammer and hit the nail on the head. The force drove it into me, through my wrist and into the wood. I cried out in agony as the nail went in. The bone shattered and the nerves were severed. A bolt of pain as strong as I had ever felt shot from the tips of my fingers trough my entire body. It was as if my whole nervous system had been shortcircuited. My body arched and convulsed for several seconds. I had never imagined it could be this bad, that such pain was even possible. After I came to rest, he struck the next blow. The spike went another inch into the wood. He continued until the head of the nails was tight against my wrist squeezing it to the wood. The guards let go of the rope and unwrapped it. My left wrist secure, they moved on to the right one.
I was in total agony by this point. The pain was pulsing through my body. The guards wasted no time. They wanted me up on the cross as quickly as possible. They repeated the procedure as before. Untying my right wrist and positioning it on top of the wood. The guard then took out another nail. This time he decided to make me suffer a little more. Rather than driving it in with the hammer, he slowly worked the tip in by placing his weight on the nail and forcing the sharpened tip in between the bone. The pain was excruciating, as before, but lingered on as he slowly forced the nail deeper. I was crying out in pain. My back arched up off the ground and I tried to kick out. My whole body was convulsing. I could feel it going deeper and scrapping against the bones. I could feel them being forced apart. The worst was when the tip penetrated the nerve. The burst of pain was undiscribable. I was now in a world where pain was the only state that existed. It was unbearable and constant. When he finally reached the wood, he took out the hammer and drove the nail in the rest of the way as before. When he finished, the guards undid the ropes and got up. I was now secured to the wood and about to mount the cross.
The crowd watched as I lay on the ground, attached to the patibullum, crying out in agony . My body arched as I tried to escape my fate. But, of course, I couldn't. My legs kicked out in the dirt. My entire body was trembling as I lay before them, sentenced to die on the cross. After a few minutes, the time had come for me to by hoisted on to the cross. I was about to experience the true meaning of the passion of the cross. One of the guards climbed up the ladder leaning against the back of the stipes. His role was to guide the patibullum into place and secure it to the stipes. Two other guards got on the sawhorses. The three remaining guards took up position behind me. When ready, the order was given and they bent down and took hold of the patibullum and began to lift. As I cried out in pain, I was lifted to my feet. I was then forced back against the stipes. I felt the two pieces of wood come together with a jolt. The guards standing on the horses grabbed on and they all began to lift. I could feel the weigth being lifted off my shoulders. I could feel myself being stretched out along the stipes. The pain on my wrists increased as they started to take on some of the weight. I got up on my toes to decrease the pain, but it was no use. They continued to lift and the pain continued to grow . I couldn't take it anymore, it was to much. I lost all control. I cried out and begged them to stop, to not go through with it. I begged for mercy. But it was no use, they continued to lift. My feet finally left the ground. Two of the guards now took hold of my body, kicking and screaming, and started to push me up. They managed to get the patibullum into place and slid the peg into the hole. They let go of my body. All my weight was now on my wrists. I was finally hanging from the cross.
The pain was unbearable. I screamed out in agony. I spread my legs and tried to try to push in on each side of the stipes to find an footing to lessen the pain. But it was impossible. I was left hanging by my wrists only as the two pieces of wood were secured together. The guard on the ladder took the wooden wedges and placed them in the ends of the slot and hammered them in. This tightly fixed the patibullum in place. He then descended the ladder and removed it. The sawhorses were also taken away. I was left for about half an hour, like this, crying out in pain and kicking frantically, trying to find some kind of footing to ease the pain of the nails. It was beginning. The cross was starting to do it's work on another hapless victim. I was being broken in front of all assembled. I couldn't escape my fate. My whole body was stretched out against the stipes. I could feel the rough wood rubbing on my back. I still had my underware and socks on but felt completely naked. I could only focus on the here and now. The crowd watched as I suffered my crucifixion. They were transfixed by the specticle. They watched my every movement. They looked for how I reacted to the pain of crucifixion. This had not been seen for hundreds of years. To see someone undergoing the true ordeal with no limits or possiblilty of escape was exquisite. They were truly enjoying it. Although the pain was beyond description for me, my suffering was only beginning. In the coming hours and days I was going to experience a level of pain that I couldn't imagine possible. I was going to find. out the true meaning of "agony of the cross". I was going to suffer as I deserved, limetless and unremmitting pain. I was going to pay for my crimes in front of all, exposed and completely stripped. I was going to be broken and destroyed, physically and mentally as punishement for my desires. I was getting what I deserved.
My feet were not nailed right away. They had decided to let me hang from my wrists only for a while to see how I would react. I struggled in agony in the hot midday sun. Unable to find any footing, I quickly became exhausted and started to weaken. As I danced for them, they mocked my predicament and laughed at my pleas for mercy. I couldn't take any of the weight off my mangled wrists so the pain grew as time went on. I began to realise what the true function of the cross was. It not only killed the victim, it increased the level of his suffering as time passed. The pain always increased, it never decreased. This caused a state of fear and panic in the condemned. My suffering was already far beyond what I would have though possible and would only get much worst the longer I lasted up there.
After about an hour, I was completenly spent. I could no longer move and was starting to have trouble brearthing. The time had come to complete my crucifixion and place the final nail. The guards approched and quickly removed my socks. My right leg was bent and turned so that my ankle lay flat against the stipes. My knee was bent at about a 45 degree angle. My left leg was also bent in the same way and my ankles placed on top of my right one. The result was that my legs were spread apart and my ankles crossed. When fastened this way I would not be able to close my legs to hide or protect my genitals. Two guards each took hold of each of my legs and ankles and held them tightly in place. I did not try to resist for I knew that the final nail would allow me to lift myself up a bit to breath and relieve the weight on my wrists. As they tightened their grip, the fifth guard took out a long spike, thicker than the ones used on my wrists. It was about 8 inches long, square with a chisel tip. It had a large head like the others but the shaft was quite a bit thicker. He positioned it on top of my ankles, just below the ankle bone and pressed in just enough to break the skin. He lifted the hammer and delivered a heavy blow, driving the nail through the top ankles and intro the bottom one. The second blow drove it into the wood. I could feel the bones shattering as the nail went deeper, but I tried not to pull away. I knew that I had to accept the last nail to lessen my pain a bit and allow me to last a while longer. Four successive blows drove it all the way in. I cried out in agony as it went in, but struggled with all my might not to pull away. I knew that I must be nailed in this manner to complete my journey to the cross. The guards let go and that was it, my crucifixion was complete. I was truly hanging from the cross for all to see. All that was left for me was to suffer like I deserved and to die for my crimes.
I was about to begin the final leg on my journey to the cross. I was left hanging for several minutes before three of the guards came over and untied me. I fell to the ground as the rope released my wrists. I just lay there, unable to move, at the foot of the whipping post. The guards then took hold of my arms and pulled me so that I laid flat, face down on the ground. I was left there for several more minutes to regain some strength for the march. My hard swollen member, beaten by the whip, throbbed underneath me and I could feel the blood on my back, drying in the sun.
Suddenly, I could feel movement around me. One of the guards took hold of my hair and pulled my head up. He then placed a noose around my neck. As he pulled on it for me to get up, two other guards took hold of my arms and lifted me to my knees. As soon as I was steady, two more guards placed the heavy patibullum on my shoulders. They, then wrapped two long ropes around my arms and the patibullum and secured it in place. I was then lifted to my feet and my long death march began.
By now, it was almost 11 a.m. The sun was getting hot and I was sweating from the scourging and the heat. The patibullum was rubbing on my raw shoulders and caused considerable pain. It was very heavy and made of rough, unplanned wood. It was a little under 6 feet in length and about 6 or 7 inches square. From the weight, I was pretty sure it was made out of hardwood. It had a slot, about 6 inches long by 2 inches wide cut into the centre, running lengthwise. This was going to fit over the peg cut into the top of th stipes to form the cross. There was also two iron rings imbedded into the top, one on each side of the slot. The ends were very slightly tapered in. It had been placed on my shoulders and my arms drapped over it and then fastened using rough manilla rope tied very tightly. The rubbing on my raw shoulders caused a burning pain with every step I took.
The guard holding the rope pulled me forward and ordered me to walk. The other members of the execution squad surrounded me with whips in hand. Slowly, I began to trudge towards the place where I would discover the true meaning of crucifixion. If I slowed down or faltered, I was beaten until I picked up the pace. With this the death march began. We marched into the woods, away from the camp. We were on a narrow path with trees on both sides. Many times I was forced to turn sideways to get through 2 trees. The crowd of onlookers followed, mocking and taunting me. They called out to the guards to beat me so that I would move faster. The guards frequently obliged. I felt the sting of their whips countless times as the procession continued through the wood.
As I staggered forward, I reflected on my situation. I was begin mercilessly driven through the forest to the place of my execution. My body was covered with the cris-cross pattern of the whip, front and back. I had the sign of the cross branded into my chest. I had on only my underware concealing my still erect member and balls swollen to twice their size by the torture I had endured and they would be gone as soon as we arrived. I knew that I would be completely exposed as I suffered on the cross. This is how it had to be. There can nothing left in the victim as he hangs from the cross. Any dignity or pride must be taken away. Nothing can be hidden from the crowd. That is the beauty of crucifixion. The victim sheds all in front of those assembled to witness. This is what was going to happen to me in the coming hours, and I knew it. This was what everyone was here for. They wanted to see what it was like to see someone suffer the ultimate penalty for his crimes. They wanted to watch as he struggled for hours and, even, days upon the cross, trying to escape his fate. They wanted to see his body broken and racked with pain dancing for them. They wanted to see the cross embrace it victim and squeeze out the last vertiges of pride and dignity without mercy. This is what they craved and I craved it too.
This is why I was here. I had always wanted it. I deserved it. I was finally going to pay for my crimes in a manner fit for them. I had chosen to hang upon the cross. I had chosen to come here. I was the one who insisted on "No Way Out" as we discussed the terms and conditions for the event. I was the one who suggested everything be authentic. I was the one who said the victim chosen could not back out and must hang from the cross exactly as in ancient Rome. I knew there were no other candidates when I let my name stand as victim. I had made sure of it in the chatroom by my conversations with the others. I had manipulated the whole thing to get the outcome that I craved. And now I was going to pay for it. I was going to suffer the fate of countless thousands of other hapless victims. But I truly deserved it. I deserved to hang there for days, naked in the hot sun. I deserved to be nailed up there for all to see. There could be no escape for me. I must suffer for my crimes, truly and completely suffer. The others must see me suffer. They deserve at least that. They deserve to see me die on the cross.
The guards continued to whip me towards my fate. I staggered through the woods for a least an hour. Then I saw it. We came to a very large clearing, and in the center stood a tall, strong upright. The guards drove me harder to get to it. I was there. I was minutes from actually hanging from the cross. A strange calm came over me as I got to the base of the cross. I was ready.
The guard ordered me to stop about 10 feet from the stipes. I stood there with sweat running down, burning my eyes, looking at it. It was about 10 feet tall and 8 inches square. The wood was rough hewned and unplanned. There was no seat or footrest. it was completely streight exept for a notch cut into the top to accept the patibullum. The wood looked weathered, as if it had been there for some time. I looked and saw the crowd gathering 'round. They waited until everyone was ready to begin. The Judge came forward and began to speak, " Adam Smith, you are about to be crucified for your crimes. We, the members of the Crux Forum have decided that, in keeping with the desire of all to witness a true crucifixion that you are to be fastened to the cross by means of nails through your wrists and feet and that you shall be left upon the cross until you are dead, as in ancient Rome." "Nooo" I cried out.
Events speeded up at this point. Two of the guards took hold of the patibullum, still attached to my shoulders, and lowered me onto the guound. My head was now only a few feet from the stipes and I was looking up at it. My arms were pinned under the patibullum with my hands on top. One of the guards took out a ladder and leaned it on the back of the post. He then brought out a large mallet and several thin wooden wedges. He places it all at the base of the ladder. Two other guards took out wooden saw horses and positioned them under where the ends of the patibullum were going to be. They had a wide flat surface on top to stand on and were about 3 feet high. All the guards then took up position around my body, streached out on the ground. As the audience moved in a bit for a better view, they quickly went to work. One of them took out the bucket with the hammer and nails and laid it by my left arm. Three of the guards bent down and untied the rope. They took hold of my arm before I could move and pulled it out from underneath the patibullum. They quickly positioned it on top of the wood and wrapped the rope around my forearm, wrist and palm of my hand. Two of the guards took hold of the ends of the rope and pulled as hard as they could. This way, my hand and wrist were completely immobilized. I could not move them at all. Another of the guards, the heaviest one, got up and stood on the other end of the patibullum, pinning my other arm under it. The two remaining guards each bent over and took hold of one of my legs and held it down. My heart and mind were racing, I knew I was seconds away from it. This was it. I was about to be actually nailed to the cross. I could almost feel the pain that I had craved for so long.
The Captain of the guards reached into the bucket and took out a large iron spike, about 7 inches long and half an inch thick. It was square and had a very sharpe chisel point. The head was a least an inch and a half in diameter and rounded. It was not a type of nail that was commercially available. It had been forged for this event. He then pulled out a large hammer that looked to be about 2 lbs and had a square head and a thick 18 inch handle. Slowly he positioned it on my wrist between tho bones. The crowd was now totally silent. He glanced over at me and lifted the hammer. The other guards all tightened there grips in anticipation of my reaction. He swung the hammer and hit the nail on the head. The force drove it into me, through my wrist and into the wood. I cried out in agony as the nail went in. The bone shattered and the nerves were severed. A bolt of pain as strong as I had ever felt shot from the tips of my fingers trough my entire body. It was as if my whole nervous system had been shortcircuited. My body arched and convulsed for several seconds. I had never imagined it could be this bad, that such pain was even possible. After I came to rest, he struck the next blow. The spike went another inch into the wood. He continued until the head of the nails was tight against my wrist squeezing it to the wood. The guards let go of the rope and unwrapped it. My left wrist secure, they moved on to the right one.
I was in total agony by this point. The pain was pulsing through my body. The guards wasted no time. They wanted me up on the cross as quickly as possible. They repeated the procedure as before. Untying my right wrist and positioning it on top of the wood. The guard then took out another nail. This time he decided to make me suffer a little more. Rather than driving it in with the hammer, he slowly worked the tip in by placing his weight on the nail and forcing the sharpened tip in between the bone. The pain was excruciating, as before, but lingered on as he slowly forced the nail deeper. I was crying out in pain. My back arched up off the ground and I tried to kick out. My whole body was convulsing. I could feel it going deeper and scrapping against the bones. I could feel them being forced apart. The worst was when the tip penetrated the nerve. The burst of pain was undiscribable. I was now in a world where pain was the only state that existed. It was unbearable and constant. When he finally reached the wood, he took out the hammer and drove the nail in the rest of the way as before. When he finished, the guards undid the ropes and got up. I was now secured to the wood and about to mount the cross.
The crowd watched as I lay on the ground, attached to the patibullum, crying out in agony . My body arched as I tried to escape my fate. But, of course, I couldn't. My legs kicked out in the dirt. My entire body was trembling as I lay before them, sentenced to die on the cross. After a few minutes, the time had come for me to by hoisted on to the cross. I was about to experience the true meaning of the passion of the cross. One of the guards climbed up the ladder leaning against the back of the stipes. His role was to guide the patibullum into place and secure it to the stipes. Two other guards got on the sawhorses. The three remaining guards took up position behind me. When ready, the order was given and they bent down and took hold of the patibullum and began to lift. As I cried out in pain, I was lifted to my feet. I was then forced back against the stipes. I felt the two pieces of wood come together with a jolt. The guards standing on the horses grabbed on and they all began to lift. I could feel the weigth being lifted off my shoulders. I could feel myself being stretched out along the stipes. The pain on my wrists increased as they started to take on some of the weight. I got up on my toes to decrease the pain, but it was no use. They continued to lift and the pain continued to grow . I couldn't take it anymore, it was to much. I lost all control. I cried out and begged them to stop, to not go through with it. I begged for mercy. But it was no use, they continued to lift. My feet finally left the ground. Two of the guards now took hold of my body, kicking and screaming, and started to push me up. They managed to get the patibullum into place and slid the peg into the hole. They let go of my body. All my weight was now on my wrists. I was finally hanging from the cross.
The pain was unbearable. I screamed out in agony. I spread my legs and tried to try to push in on each side of the stipes to find an footing to lessen the pain. But it was impossible. I was left hanging by my wrists only as the two pieces of wood were secured together. The guard on the ladder took the wooden wedges and placed them in the ends of the slot and hammered them in. This tightly fixed the patibullum in place. He then descended the ladder and removed it. The sawhorses were also taken away. I was left for about half an hour, like this, crying out in pain and kicking frantically, trying to find some kind of footing to ease the pain of the nails. It was beginning. The cross was starting to do it's work on another hapless victim. I was being broken in front of all assembled. I couldn't escape my fate. My whole body was stretched out against the stipes. I could feel the rough wood rubbing on my back. I still had my underware and socks on but felt completely naked. I could only focus on the here and now. The crowd watched as I suffered my crucifixion. They were transfixed by the specticle. They watched my every movement. They looked for how I reacted to the pain of crucifixion. This had not been seen for hundreds of years. To see someone undergoing the true ordeal with no limits or possiblilty of escape was exquisite. They were truly enjoying it. Although the pain was beyond description for me, my suffering was only beginning. In the coming hours and days I was going to experience a level of pain that I couldn't imagine possible. I was going to find. out the true meaning of "agony of the cross". I was going to suffer as I deserved, limetless and unremmitting pain. I was going to pay for my crimes in front of all, exposed and completely stripped. I was going to be broken and destroyed, physically and mentally as punishement for my desires. I was getting what I deserved.
My feet were not nailed right away. They had decided to let me hang from my wrists only for a while to see how I would react. I struggled in agony in the hot midday sun. Unable to find any footing, I quickly became exhausted and started to weaken. As I danced for them, they mocked my predicament and laughed at my pleas for mercy. I couldn't take any of the weight off my mangled wrists so the pain grew as time went on. I began to realise what the true function of the cross was. It not only killed the victim, it increased the level of his suffering as time passed. The pain always increased, it never decreased. This caused a state of fear and panic in the condemned. My suffering was already far beyond what I would have though possible and would only get much worst the longer I lasted up there.
After about an hour, I was completenly spent. I could no longer move and was starting to have trouble brearthing. The time had come to complete my crucifixion and place the final nail. The guards approched and quickly removed my socks. My right leg was bent and turned so that my ankle lay flat against the stipes. My knee was bent at about a 45 degree angle. My left leg was also bent in the same way and my ankles placed on top of my right one. The result was that my legs were spread apart and my ankles crossed. When fastened this way I would not be able to close my legs to hide or protect my genitals. Two guards each took hold of each of my legs and ankles and held them tightly in place. I did not try to resist for I knew that the final nail would allow me to lift myself up a bit to breath and relieve the weight on my wrists. As they tightened their grip, the fifth guard took out a long spike, thicker than the ones used on my wrists. It was about 8 inches long, square with a chisel tip. It had a large head like the others but the shaft was quite a bit thicker. He positioned it on top of my ankles, just below the ankle bone and pressed in just enough to break the skin. He lifted the hammer and delivered a heavy blow, driving the nail through the top ankles and intro the bottom one. The second blow drove it into the wood. I could feel the bones shattering as the nail went deeper, but I tried not to pull away. I knew that I had to accept the last nail to lessen my pain a bit and allow me to last a while longer. Four successive blows drove it all the way in. I cried out in agony as it went in, but struggled with all my might not to pull away. I knew that I must be nailed in this manner to complete my journey to the cross. The guards let go and that was it, my crucifixion was complete. I was truly hanging from the cross for all to see. All that was left for me was to suffer like I deserved and to die for my crimes.
onthecross
Guard
Fantasy - Part 10 - The Final Hours
I was now near the end of my journey. There was no possibility of escape. The outcome was now certain and all present knew it. As in Ancient Rome, it was never intended that the victim survive crucifixion. This was now my fate also. I was nailed to the cross, my legs wide apart, my body beaten and stripped. I hung there, in front of the crowd. suffering for my crimes and robbed of all dignity. All that was left for me was to experience all the horrors of it as I hung from the cross in the coming days.
The crowd watched as I lifted myself up on my legs to relieve the weight on my wrists for a few seconds until the pain in my ankles grew too intense and I had to slid down to relieve it. I struggled with all my might to try to find some respite from the agony, but couldn't. After several minutes, I gathered enough composer to look out on the crowd for the first time since my nailing began. I could see that they were enjoying watching their victim suffer the ultimate penalty for his crimes. They watched intently as I struggled on the cross. They could see that I was in incredable and constant pain. They knew that the cross was starting to do it's work on it's victim. It was breaking his body and soul, slowly and methodically. It would rob me of all in the coming hours and days. And they would see the whole thing.
As I looked around, I saw the young women. She was transfixed by the specticle before her. She watched my every movement and never looked away. When she saw that I was staring at her, she came closer and looked up at me. I could tell she yerned to watch me suffer more than any of them. She craved it. It was as if she needed a victim to take her place on the cross and go through the whole ordeal to take away some burden she carried. She needed me to suffer as much as possible. I understood. She told the executioner to use the barbed scourge. She had made me agree to take the nails and take it all the way. It was because of her that I was now being truly crucified. It was for her that I was hanging on the cross. She was the cruellest of them all. It wasn't me who orchastrated the whole thing, it was her. She was the one who manipulated me. She was the one who had found her victim, and now, he must die.
I continued to struggle on the cross as time went on. By now, it was mid-afternoon and the sun was very hot. My skin was turning red and I was covered with persperation. I tried to move as little as possible to control the pain. But as time went on the became impossible. I had to take the pressure off my legs so I lowered myself and hung from my arms. When the pain there became to great, I raised myself up. My dance was beginning, slowly and intermitantly at first, but then, faster and at a regular rythme. The crowd was making fun of me and taunting me when someone noticed that I still had my tattered underware on. They quickly let the executioners know that this last vestige of dignity for the condemned was not acceptable. Nothing can be hidden from the witnesses. I must be completely exposed as I suffer upon the cross. One of the executioners came forward and in one swift movement, tore them off. As my still rock-hard member sprang forward, the crowd roared with laughter. I was now totally naked, as I should be, exposed for all to see.
As the hours passed, I was beginning to weaken. The cross was taking it's toll. I was moaning constantly as I stuggled to raise and lower myself. My back was raw from the scourging and rubbing constantly against the rough stipes. The cross was at work slowly executiong it's victim. I could feel my muscles tightening up. I was unable to move enough to relieve the tension. Soon the cramps would start and at another horrifing level to my ordeal. I had read that when the victim experiences muscle cramping while undergoing his crucifixion that the pain and terror he experiences is beyoud description. To fell ones muscles tearing themselves apart and being unable to do anything but hang there was the worst part of crucifixion, even worst than the end. I knew that during tha night and the next day that I would be going through it, as I must.
All afternoon and evening I countinued to struggle on the cross. The crowd watched and talked. They even had their evening meal there, watching as I suffered for them. As the sun began to set, someone suggested that I should get a workout before dark. In Ancient Rome victims were often mercilessly whipped as they hung from the cross to add to their suffering and for the entertainment of the crowd. The head executioner decided that I should also experience this as this was suppose to be an authentic crucifixion. The crowd gathered 'round as he uncoiled a long, heavy bullwhip. It was at least 12 feet long and had a single tail on it. He wasted no time and unleashed the first blow. I cried out in agony as it cut into me. The force of the blow forced me up on my ankles. The nail through them sent a jolt of excuciating pain throughout my body. He continued to deliver the blows. Slowly and deliberatly, he worked me over for the crowd. I danced up and down, crying out in agony and begging for mercy as he cut me with the whip. He held nothing back as he delivered the blows. There was no need to, I was not coming down from the cross alive. I was using up my last reserves of strength. This was the whole point of it, to break the last vestiges of resistance in the victim. When he finished I would be completely broken and awaiting death. I had never imagined it could be this bad. That a person could undergo so much torture and pain as he hung from the cross was unthinkable a few hours and what seemed like a lifetime ago. I was learning the meaning of "passion of the cross". I was no longer Adam Smith. He didn't exist here. I was nothing but a vile criminal paying for his horrendous crimes as he deserved. I deserved this and I knew it. The crowd knew it. I deserved to be crucifed. I deserved to die ONTHECROSS.
As the sun set, the air became cool. Many of the onlookers began to leave for the night. I was going to be left there, high on the cross, along in the middle of nowhere to undergo the next phase of my execution. I was in total agony being tortured constantly by the weight of my own body and this infernal device that was incapable of any mercy for it's victim. It just continued, unremettingly and unflinchingly to inflict ever greater pain. That was the true beauty of crucifixion, how the victim's own body conspired with the cross to torture the condemed to the very end. As night fell, the cool air caused my muscles to tighten even more. Suddenly I felt the onset of the first cramp. I struggled franticaly to shift my weight to ease the pain. But because of the way that I was nailed to the cross, this was impossible. The pain continued to grow. My muscles tightened. I felt like my muscles were tearing themselves to shreads under my skin. My whole body was trembling as I cried out in pain for several minutes. Finally, the pain began to subside and the muscles loosen a bit. But not for long. Because of the way that my ankles were nailed, my legs were bent in a sort of diamond shape with my knees wide apart. I was unable to close them to relieve the tension on the muscles. This fact and the cooling tempeture caused them to cramp up more and more frequently as the night passed. The only thing I could do to ease to pain was to take all my weight of my legs and hang from my wrists only. This caused excruciating pains in my arms and chest muscles. Soon they began to cramp up as well. As time passed the cramps became more frequent and more widespread to other muscles. Unable to move enough to loosen them, I was in a constant state of terror and agony for the whole night. I was convulsing constantly and crying out in pain throughout the night. I was experiencing a level of horror and suffering that was beyond the description of words. I had never imagined that a device as simple as a cross could inflict such physical and psychological destruction on it's victim. But, here I was, experiencing it as thousands of others had done before, condemned to die upon it...........The End
Hope you enjoyed it. If any interest in acting it out, within reason, send private message. Anything is possible.
I was now near the end of my journey. There was no possibility of escape. The outcome was now certain and all present knew it. As in Ancient Rome, it was never intended that the victim survive crucifixion. This was now my fate also. I was nailed to the cross, my legs wide apart, my body beaten and stripped. I hung there, in front of the crowd. suffering for my crimes and robbed of all dignity. All that was left for me was to experience all the horrors of it as I hung from the cross in the coming days.
The crowd watched as I lifted myself up on my legs to relieve the weight on my wrists for a few seconds until the pain in my ankles grew too intense and I had to slid down to relieve it. I struggled with all my might to try to find some respite from the agony, but couldn't. After several minutes, I gathered enough composer to look out on the crowd for the first time since my nailing began. I could see that they were enjoying watching their victim suffer the ultimate penalty for his crimes. They watched intently as I struggled on the cross. They could see that I was in incredable and constant pain. They knew that the cross was starting to do it's work on it's victim. It was breaking his body and soul, slowly and methodically. It would rob me of all in the coming hours and days. And they would see the whole thing.
As I looked around, I saw the young women. She was transfixed by the specticle before her. She watched my every movement and never looked away. When she saw that I was staring at her, she came closer and looked up at me. I could tell she yerned to watch me suffer more than any of them. She craved it. It was as if she needed a victim to take her place on the cross and go through the whole ordeal to take away some burden she carried. She needed me to suffer as much as possible. I understood. She told the executioner to use the barbed scourge. She had made me agree to take the nails and take it all the way. It was because of her that I was now being truly crucified. It was for her that I was hanging on the cross. She was the cruellest of them all. It wasn't me who orchastrated the whole thing, it was her. She was the one who manipulated me. She was the one who had found her victim, and now, he must die.
I continued to struggle on the cross as time went on. By now, it was mid-afternoon and the sun was very hot. My skin was turning red and I was covered with persperation. I tried to move as little as possible to control the pain. But as time went on the became impossible. I had to take the pressure off my legs so I lowered myself and hung from my arms. When the pain there became to great, I raised myself up. My dance was beginning, slowly and intermitantly at first, but then, faster and at a regular rythme. The crowd was making fun of me and taunting me when someone noticed that I still had my tattered underware on. They quickly let the executioners know that this last vestige of dignity for the condemned was not acceptable. Nothing can be hidden from the witnesses. I must be completely exposed as I suffer upon the cross. One of the executioners came forward and in one swift movement, tore them off. As my still rock-hard member sprang forward, the crowd roared with laughter. I was now totally naked, as I should be, exposed for all to see.
As the hours passed, I was beginning to weaken. The cross was taking it's toll. I was moaning constantly as I stuggled to raise and lower myself. My back was raw from the scourging and rubbing constantly against the rough stipes. The cross was at work slowly executiong it's victim. I could feel my muscles tightening up. I was unable to move enough to relieve the tension. Soon the cramps would start and at another horrifing level to my ordeal. I had read that when the victim experiences muscle cramping while undergoing his crucifixion that the pain and terror he experiences is beyoud description. To fell ones muscles tearing themselves apart and being unable to do anything but hang there was the worst part of crucifixion, even worst than the end. I knew that during tha night and the next day that I would be going through it, as I must.
All afternoon and evening I countinued to struggle on the cross. The crowd watched and talked. They even had their evening meal there, watching as I suffered for them. As the sun began to set, someone suggested that I should get a workout before dark. In Ancient Rome victims were often mercilessly whipped as they hung from the cross to add to their suffering and for the entertainment of the crowd. The head executioner decided that I should also experience this as this was suppose to be an authentic crucifixion. The crowd gathered 'round as he uncoiled a long, heavy bullwhip. It was at least 12 feet long and had a single tail on it. He wasted no time and unleashed the first blow. I cried out in agony as it cut into me. The force of the blow forced me up on my ankles. The nail through them sent a jolt of excuciating pain throughout my body. He continued to deliver the blows. Slowly and deliberatly, he worked me over for the crowd. I danced up and down, crying out in agony and begging for mercy as he cut me with the whip. He held nothing back as he delivered the blows. There was no need to, I was not coming down from the cross alive. I was using up my last reserves of strength. This was the whole point of it, to break the last vestiges of resistance in the victim. When he finished I would be completely broken and awaiting death. I had never imagined it could be this bad. That a person could undergo so much torture and pain as he hung from the cross was unthinkable a few hours and what seemed like a lifetime ago. I was learning the meaning of "passion of the cross". I was no longer Adam Smith. He didn't exist here. I was nothing but a vile criminal paying for his horrendous crimes as he deserved. I deserved this and I knew it. The crowd knew it. I deserved to be crucifed. I deserved to die ONTHECROSS.
As the sun set, the air became cool. Many of the onlookers began to leave for the night. I was going to be left there, high on the cross, along in the middle of nowhere to undergo the next phase of my execution. I was in total agony being tortured constantly by the weight of my own body and this infernal device that was incapable of any mercy for it's victim. It just continued, unremettingly and unflinchingly to inflict ever greater pain. That was the true beauty of crucifixion, how the victim's own body conspired with the cross to torture the condemed to the very end. As night fell, the cool air caused my muscles to tighten even more. Suddenly I felt the onset of the first cramp. I struggled franticaly to shift my weight to ease the pain. But because of the way that I was nailed to the cross, this was impossible. The pain continued to grow. My muscles tightened. I felt like my muscles were tearing themselves to shreads under my skin. My whole body was trembling as I cried out in pain for several minutes. Finally, the pain began to subside and the muscles loosen a bit. But not for long. Because of the way that my ankles were nailed, my legs were bent in a sort of diamond shape with my knees wide apart. I was unable to close them to relieve the tension on the muscles. This fact and the cooling tempeture caused them to cramp up more and more frequently as the night passed. The only thing I could do to ease to pain was to take all my weight of my legs and hang from my wrists only. This caused excruciating pains in my arms and chest muscles. Soon they began to cramp up as well. As time passed the cramps became more frequent and more widespread to other muscles. Unable to move enough to loosen them, I was in a constant state of terror and agony for the whole night. I was convulsing constantly and crying out in pain throughout the night. I was experiencing a level of horror and suffering that was beyond the description of words. I had never imagined that a device as simple as a cross could inflict such physical and psychological destruction on it's victim. But, here I was, experiencing it as thousands of others had done before, condemned to die upon it...........The End
Hope you enjoyed it. If any interest in acting it out, within reason, send private message. Anything is possible.
onthecross
Guard
Fantasy or reality?
Hope you enjoyed it. If any interest in acting it out, within reason, we can discuss. Anything is possible. Send private message or post. When sentenced to hang from the cross, the victim must suffer in public, before all interested in watching. So, discussions can be public also.
Hope you enjoyed it. If any interest in acting it out, within reason, we can discuss. Anything is possible. Send private message or post. When sentenced to hang from the cross, the victim must suffer in public, before all interested in watching. So, discussions can be public also.
onthecross
Guard
Would it be possible to post another fantasy story in the coming days?
Go right ahead.
bondguy2222
Condemned
I'd be interested in a realistic crucifixion, though minus the nails. Unless perhaps they'd be simply piercings like they do in the Phillipines.
Im kind of new here and just found this thread. All i can say is wow.
i must have read that story at least half a dozen times already putting myself in the place of the victim. I would love to do something like that minus the nails and final ending of course. The torture and humiliation of the people watching my crucifixion. Write some more If i cant experience it at least i can read about it.
i must have read that story at least half a dozen times already putting myself in the place of the victim. I would love to do something like that minus the nails and final ending of course. The torture and humiliation of the people watching my crucifixion. Write some more If i cant experience it at least i can read about it.
onthecross
Guard
I'm going to start another story sometime in september if that's OK. It takes a while to come up with new ideas.
Onthecross
Onthecross
bondguy9999
Condemned
I'm game in reenacting the story. PM or reply. I"m in Pittsburgh.
joannalo42
Onlooker
i can do one... maybe later...