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Pleasure In Suffering
- Thread starter markus
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markus
Tribune
A DEATH OF HER OWN CHOOSING
Part 1 The Decision
“Are you sure that you don’t want to change your mind?” I asked. The young woman, I will call her Julia, seated before me shook her head and answered firmly,
“No, I am sure.”
She was a lovely creature. Nineteen years old, dark, almost black, long hair, blue eyes, milky white skin and a scattering of freckles around her nose. Huge firm breasts accented her shapely swelling at the hips that tapered into well-formed legs. She was dressed in blue shorts, a pink Tshirt, and sandals. The weather had been warm and dry.
“What you have chosen is possibly the most painful and humiliating experience imaginable” I repeated, “don’t you think that you should reconsider before it is too late.”
“No, my mind is made up. I have given this a lot of thought and this is what I want. You have to understand that I have dreamed of dying this way for years, I can’t get it out of my mind. You can’t talk me out of it so could we just get on with it?”
I operate an exclusive service for women. I give them the experience of being put to death in a formal judicial way. It is surprising how many women would like to check out but just do not have the courage to do it for themselves, or prefer to have someone assist them while they live out a lifetime fantasy. I make that fantasy come true for them in a most realistic fashion possible. I offer a variety of general scenarios for women to choose from, many are unsure of what they want and my scenarios give them ideas that we can customize after some discussion. Careful planning must be done because death and the process leading up to it can only be experienced once.
The most popular choice, by a wide margin, is hanging. Most women prefer a short drop. This results in one or two minutes of painful strangulation before unconsciousness, but I think the women want to feel the noose. This can be done in a variety of historical contexts from being turned off the back of a cart in a 18th century English village to being hanged from a horse in the wild west. Some women prefer a long drop resulting in a broken neck but the short drop is far more popular. Some request a surreal experience like hanging naked in front of a group of men.
Beheading also is popular. I offer both the guillotine, the sword, and the ax. Most prefer one of the latter two, many in the historical context of the middle ages. This requires some discipline on their parts, to hold still while I swing the ax or sword, but I have never failed to sever a head in one stroke. I keep both my ax and sword exceptionally sharp. The guillotine is sharp too but even blunt, a blade weighted by 200 lbs and falling 8 feet never fails. I also offer the garrote. I have both a Spanish garrote where the woman is seated and a collar is mechanically tightened around her neck and I will also perform the act by hand using a thin chord if that is what is desired. A woman once asked to be burned at the stake but strangled before the flames were lit.
I have had some unusual requests that I have been able to talk clients out of. The woman above initially asked to be burned at the stake as a heretic. I counseled her to accept the mercy of strangulation prior to being burned because I didn’t feel that she actually understood how painful a burning would be. Another requested torture, including the rack, burning with red-hot irons, insertion of the pear into her vagina, followed by breaking on the wheel. I managed to talk her out of it. She finally decided that life was better than death and opted out of the whole service. I am sure that sooner or later I will apply both of those methods to other women though. I did have one client insist on being hanged, drawn and quartered. I could not talk her out of it and we finally performed the execution for her. Hers was a horrible death and quite bloody but not as bad as what I will describe here. It is astonishing what the female imagination come up with.
The young woman seated before me had requested crucifixion. A traditional Roman crucifixion with everything leading up to it, ending in slow death by asphyxiation nailed to a cross. I have had seven requests for crucifixions before. Two of the women I talked out of it, and both chose other quicker methods. The other five I nailed to crosses. But these clients requested sever scourging prior to being hung on the cross. This resulted in shock and considerable blood loss. Three of the clients died after just a few hours and on the other two, I perform a crurifragium (breaking their legs just below the knees) after eight hours and, unable to support themselves on her legs to breath, they died of asphyxiation and shock soon after. Julia would have none of that. Further, she insisted on being provided with a cornu. Crucified in this manner she would take days to die as long as we kept her hydrated.
I stood up. “You realize of course, once you are locked into the holding pen there will be no going back. What you contract for is exactly what you get. There are no safe words and no mercy will be shown. You will die a slow, tormented death in the Roman fashion.”
She smiled and nodded in agreement, “Please, believe me, this is what I want and I will not change my mind. Won’t you please do this for me? I came to you because I want it done right.”
“And you are sure you want the sexual parts?” I asked. “The rapes that would typically take place before and during a crucifixion? You want to go through with that too?”
Most of my clients prefer not to engage in sexual activity as they live out their fantasy, but for some, and Julia was among these, sex was a major part of the death fantasy.
“Yes, I insist on that too.” She replied. “Sex and death have become so intertwined in my mind that I cannot conceive of doing this otherwise. I especially want to be fucked while hanging on the cross. Didn’t the Roman’s do that? When they crucified women?”
“We really don’t know that but it likely happened.” I replied. “It would have added to the humiliation and the Romans would likely have seen that as part of the punishment.”
“Please, I want that too and don’t worry. At the end, I would like to have my breasts cut off! I will play my part very well. I just want you to play yours.” She smiled. It was hard to believe that such an attractive young woman could have been so obsessed by such a death wish and a desire to have a last adventure such as this.
“I have your bank transfer.” I said. “You can still back out and it will be returned, minus the service fee.” I looked directly into her eyes.
“No, my mind is made up, this is what I want to do.” She repeated. I knew that it was useless to argue with her, but I felt bound to make her understand what she was getting into. She stood up and I lead her to an adjacent room. Hanging on a hook was her costume. It consisted of a linen tunic or shift, with a simple tie at the waist that hung to just below her knees. She would have no underwear.
Without a word she unashamedly stripped in front of me, carefully folding her cloths and placing them on a chair. Her breasts were huge and firm with pert nipples encircled by prominent areolas. She pulled her panties off last and I admired her round ass and pussy covered with dark curly pubic hair. I was glad that she hadn’t shaved, pubic hair added to the realism. She had no tattoos or any other marks on her milky skin. The only jewelry that she wore were two small silver earring studs in the shape of a cross. Not the Christian cross, but a “T” shaped cross like the one on which she would be nailed. She asked if she could wear the studs and I nodded that she could, then she slipped the tunic over her head and tied it around her waist looked me in the eyes smiling she said “I’m ready, can we start?”
I lead her outside across the yard to her cell. It was no more than a holding pen with straw on the floor. The cell had no furniture, she would sleep as best as she could on the ground. A wooden bucket in the corner was provided for human waste and a second bucket was filled with water for drinking and washing.
When we reached the door of her cell I grasped her shoulders firmly and looked her straight in the eyes. They starred back at me with what seemed like defiance. “You can still back out.” I said insistently. “But once I lock you in, there will be no turning back, you will be crucified and you will die an unimaginably painful, humiliating, and slow death.”
She turned away from me and without a word walked through the door. The stipes on which she would soon hang stood embedded in the ground and in full site through a barred window two hundred meters away at the top of a nearby hill. She looked up at it but said nothing. I closed and locked the door of her cell behind her. It was getting toward evening and the sky was darkening. Tomorrow would be a busy day.
markus
Tribune
Part 2 The Night Before
On the night before her crucifixion Julia was treated to all of the hospitality and entertainment afforded to a female prisoner in a Roman camp. This required that Julia be visited by the legionaries, one at a time and in groups. I have my assistants who help me with this task. They are all ex-army and marines and have seen a lot of death and know how to be brutal. I would take her first.
We all dress in period costumes for the event. Tunics and in the case of the men performing the crucifixion, full Roman military armor. I dressed in the fine garb of a roman legate. For the night’s entertainment tunics were all that were required and they did not stay on for long.
At midnight I entered the cell with several of the men waiting outside. Julia woke with a start. She quickly understood why we were there and sat up. Without a word she pulled her tunic over her head. She would not resist, in fact I she had been looking forward to her “rape.” While the legionaries watched I stripped lay down on my back invited Julia to straddled me in a 69 position. She did so and taking my penis into her mouth she sucked vigorously while I licked her vulva, clitoris, and anus. I savored her unwashed musky smell. She turned around and mounted my penis and it slid effortlessly into her tight vagina. She rode me wildly as I tried as best as I could to answer with my own thrusts. Grasping her big breasts with my hands I took her nipples into my mouth, first her left then her right, as her hips gyrated and ground into me driving my cock deeper inside. It did not take long before I ejaculated in a powerful orgasm. I don’t know if she also orgasmed but she sensed my exhaustion and rolled off and lay next to me on her back. I rose and wordlessly picked up my tunic and stepping out of the cell motioned for the legionaries to enter.
I watched for a while. When I finally left she was riding astraddle of one man with his cock in her cunt with a second man on top with his cock pumping deep inside her rectum. Two other men were at her head fucking her mouth in turn. A third had already cum in her mouth and his semen dribbled from her chin. The party would go most of the night. Julia eventually went limp with exhaustion but the men continued to fuck her inanimate body one after another. It was the treatment that any female Roman prisoner could expect on the night before her execution.
On the night before her crucifixion Julia was treated to all of the hospitality and entertainment afforded to a female prisoner in a Roman camp. This required that Julia be visited by the legionaries, one at a time and in groups. I have my assistants who help me with this task. They are all ex-army and marines and have seen a lot of death and know how to be brutal. I would take her first.
We all dress in period costumes for the event. Tunics and in the case of the men performing the crucifixion, full Roman military armor. I dressed in the fine garb of a roman legate. For the night’s entertainment tunics were all that were required and they did not stay on for long.
At midnight I entered the cell with several of the men waiting outside. Julia woke with a start. She quickly understood why we were there and sat up. Without a word she pulled her tunic over her head. She would not resist, in fact I she had been looking forward to her “rape.” While the legionaries watched I stripped lay down on my back invited Julia to straddled me in a 69 position. She did so and taking my penis into her mouth she sucked vigorously while I licked her vulva, clitoris, and anus. I savored her unwashed musky smell. She turned around and mounted my penis and it slid effortlessly into her tight vagina. She rode me wildly as I tried as best as I could to answer with my own thrusts. Grasping her big breasts with my hands I took her nipples into my mouth, first her left then her right, as her hips gyrated and ground into me driving my cock deeper inside. It did not take long before I ejaculated in a powerful orgasm. I don’t know if she also orgasmed but she sensed my exhaustion and rolled off and lay next to me on her back. I rose and wordlessly picked up my tunic and stepping out of the cell motioned for the legionaries to enter.
I watched for a while. When I finally left she was riding astraddle of one man with his cock in her cunt with a second man on top with his cock pumping deep inside her rectum. Two other men were at her head fucking her mouth in turn. A third had already cum in her mouth and his semen dribbled from her chin. The party would go most of the night. Julia eventually went limp with exhaustion but the men continued to fuck her inanimate body one after another. It was the treatment that any female Roman prisoner could expect on the night before her execution.
markus
Tribune
Part 3 Flagillation
By 4:00 AM the men finally finished with her and Julia slept exhausted until I woke her at 7:00. I knelt beside her. “How do you feel?” I asked, pinching her bare ass as she woke up. She smiled faintly but didn’t say anything.
“Are you ready?” I asked gently. “We are going to begin now.”
It didn’t matter if she were ready or not, her torture and death would take place regardless, but she looked me in the eye and without speaking nodded that she was ready to begin her ordeal and death.
I rose to my feet and watched as she got up and squatted over the toilet bucket for a few minutes. A woman on the toilet is an extremely sexy thing, I could just see the yellow stream of her pee as it fell with its unmistakable sound. There also was the plopping sound of her shit dropping into the bucket. She smiled up at me and taking a handfull of straw she cleaned herself as best she could. She then stood up naked in front of me and slipped her tunic over her head.
“I’m ready, please don’t worry about me, I want to get started now.” She said, looking me straight in the eye. I wasn’t worried, why should I be, nothing that she could do would stop what was about to happen.
I stepped out of her cell. One of my assistants, in full Roman legionary’s garb, entered and roughly dragged her out. She was dragged the whipping post. This was a pole imbedded into the ground with a horizontal rail, set at waist height about three feet in front of it. We had scattered thorns, burrs, and sharp gravel on the ground and she cried out in pain as these jabbed her tender feet. Her wrists were tied together in front of her and her arms were raised high on the post and secured to a hook. This resulted in bending her over the horizontal rail at about a 45° angle. Her legs were pulled far apart and her ankles were secured with chords to the vertical posts that supported the rail. Her linen tunic was ripped off and discarded. Her bent forward posture exposed her bare back, ass, and legs with her hairy pussy peaking seductively beneath her ass.
By this time Julia was showing some fear. She anxiously looked around, seeing the instruments of pain in the hands of her tormentors. Had she asked for too much? Should she have backed our when she had a chance? It was definitely too late now.
I stepped in front of her, bent down to her ear and said softly, “You will now experience flagellation but first several of the men want to pleasure themselves first.” Julia nodded that she understood, “Will you be one of them?” she asked.
“Do you want me to be?” I said, somewhat taken aback by her directness. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you on the cross.”
“Can’t you do both?” was her answer.
I nodded my assent and continued describing how the scenario would unfold, “After your flagellation you will carry your patibulum to the top of the hill. There we will nail your hands to it, lift you up on the stipes, nail your feet and you will be left to suffer horrible pain, additional humiliations, and finally die. Do you understand? We are going to show you no mercy, so do not ask for it!”
Julia nodded that she understood.
I stepped behind her and picking up her tunic that lay nearby, I wetted it in some water that was in my drinking jug and cleaned her vulva and anus. I had a throbbing erection by this time and lifting my tunic I rubbed my glans along her cleft. When she was wet I thrust into her. She met me with her own backward thrusts as well as she could tied in her rather awkward position. I pumped back and forth. It must have been entertaining for the men watching because they laughed, hooted and called out encouragement. I reached around her grasped her breasts and tweaked her nipples hard and twisted. It was painful and she cried out but thrust even harder. I felt the passion rise in her and she grunted rhythmically with pleasure, oblivious to all the men watching and their lewd comments. I moved my hands down to her hips to steady her and thrusting harder I felt her shudder and the walls of her vagina tighten around my cock in orgasm. Unable to hold back any longer I ejaculated so hard that had trouble keeping my feat. I collapsed against her back, holding on to her tightly. The legionaries laughed, applauded, and cheered us.
I parted from her exhilarated but spent and I moved away to watch as the solders each took their turn in fucking her. The first of the legionaries then stepped behind Julia and pulling up his tunic took his already hard member in his, rubbed it against her wet vulva, pushed it into her pussy and pumped her hard. Tied to the post in her bent over posture there was little that she could do but take it, but she thrust back in return. The legionary grunted loud when he ejaculated and pulled out. A second legionary stepped in his place. Lifting his tunic he rubbed a copious amount of saliva onto his member and then, using his wet finger, probed her asshole; he preferred anal entry. Julia accommodated him with return thrusts. He also grasped her nipples and twisted. The pain caused Julia to twist her ass erotically increasing his pleasure. He finally released with a loud cry and series of grunts. One by one all of the men who had a mind to satisfied their carnal lust.
Julia accommodated them with her own cries of pleasure, humping, and gyrations. I could not believe what a whore this beautiful young woman turned out to be, but this was her last pleasure and her last adventure and she was determined to get the most out of it. I could not blame the young woman for that. When the last of the legionaries was satisfied two of them took their positions on either side of her, each holding a leather whip made up of three heavy knotted strands. They were not truly Roman scourges with bits of metal woven into the thong. Such an instrument would take the skin off Julia’s back leading to massive blood loss and a relatively quick death once on the cross. The whips that we had chosen were painful and damaging in their own right but not as lethal.
I tied Julia’s long dark hair into a loose ponytail and draped it to the side off her shoulder to keep it out of the way. I noticed semen dripping from her vagina and anus trickling down her inner thighs. She was lovely though, her pale white skin, as yet inviolate, glistened in the sun, still wet with the sweat of her sexual exertions. But her lovely skin would soon be covered with ugly welts and blood.
“Your flagellation is about to begin.” I said softly to her. “It’s OK to cry and scream, there is no shame in that, don’t try to hold it in.”
She nodded that she understood. I could see the fear creeping into her eyes. I stood back and at my command each legionary in turn laid their whips to the task as hard as they could swing their arms, allowing about 10 seconds to pass between each blow for the shock and pain to take effect before the next blow was delivered. They started with her shoulders and worked their way down her body. With each stroke she shuttered and let out a heartrending cry. When they reached the middle of her back they made sure that the strands wrapped around her body enough to reach her breasts and nipples. Her back soon became a mess of angry red welts with trickles of blood running down her sided and flecking onto the ground. By the time they reached her ass Julia’s cries were coming out as rasping gasps. They then worked on the “sweet spot” where her ass met her upper thigh and her cries became inhuman shrieks.
The men stopped the process just above the knees and two fresh legionaries took their place. They worked their way back up her body, repeating the blows, until they reached her shoulders. At this point I took one of the whips and standing at Julia’s right shoulder I lay the whip downwards along the crack of her ass and between her legs, making sure that the knotted chords “kissed” her anus, labia, and clitoris. I had practiced this technique on other clients and become quite good at it. I gave her 12 strokes, as hard as I could swing, eliciting more shrieks of pain from the unfortunate young woman. I have to admit that I enjoyed watching her ass buck and squirm with every blow and noticed that my cock had again stiffened pushing out against the tunic that I wore.
After finishing my part I stepped away and checked my watch. About an hour and a half had passes since we started. It was time for her walk to the place of execution. I looked down at Julia. Her body was a mess of angry red welts and blood from her knees to her shoulders. Semen continued to drip from her orifices and mixed with the blood. A trickle of blood dripped from the corner of her mouth from where she had bitten her lip or tongue.
By 4:00 AM the men finally finished with her and Julia slept exhausted until I woke her at 7:00. I knelt beside her. “How do you feel?” I asked, pinching her bare ass as she woke up. She smiled faintly but didn’t say anything.
“Are you ready?” I asked gently. “We are going to begin now.”
It didn’t matter if she were ready or not, her torture and death would take place regardless, but she looked me in the eye and without speaking nodded that she was ready to begin her ordeal and death.
I rose to my feet and watched as she got up and squatted over the toilet bucket for a few minutes. A woman on the toilet is an extremely sexy thing, I could just see the yellow stream of her pee as it fell with its unmistakable sound. There also was the plopping sound of her shit dropping into the bucket. She smiled up at me and taking a handfull of straw she cleaned herself as best she could. She then stood up naked in front of me and slipped her tunic over her head.
“I’m ready, please don’t worry about me, I want to get started now.” She said, looking me straight in the eye. I wasn’t worried, why should I be, nothing that she could do would stop what was about to happen.
I stepped out of her cell. One of my assistants, in full Roman legionary’s garb, entered and roughly dragged her out. She was dragged the whipping post. This was a pole imbedded into the ground with a horizontal rail, set at waist height about three feet in front of it. We had scattered thorns, burrs, and sharp gravel on the ground and she cried out in pain as these jabbed her tender feet. Her wrists were tied together in front of her and her arms were raised high on the post and secured to a hook. This resulted in bending her over the horizontal rail at about a 45° angle. Her legs were pulled far apart and her ankles were secured with chords to the vertical posts that supported the rail. Her linen tunic was ripped off and discarded. Her bent forward posture exposed her bare back, ass, and legs with her hairy pussy peaking seductively beneath her ass.
By this time Julia was showing some fear. She anxiously looked around, seeing the instruments of pain in the hands of her tormentors. Had she asked for too much? Should she have backed our when she had a chance? It was definitely too late now.
I stepped in front of her, bent down to her ear and said softly, “You will now experience flagellation but first several of the men want to pleasure themselves first.” Julia nodded that she understood, “Will you be one of them?” she asked.
“Do you want me to be?” I said, somewhat taken aback by her directness. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you on the cross.”
“Can’t you do both?” was her answer.
I nodded my assent and continued describing how the scenario would unfold, “After your flagellation you will carry your patibulum to the top of the hill. There we will nail your hands to it, lift you up on the stipes, nail your feet and you will be left to suffer horrible pain, additional humiliations, and finally die. Do you understand? We are going to show you no mercy, so do not ask for it!”
Julia nodded that she understood.
I stepped behind her and picking up her tunic that lay nearby, I wetted it in some water that was in my drinking jug and cleaned her vulva and anus. I had a throbbing erection by this time and lifting my tunic I rubbed my glans along her cleft. When she was wet I thrust into her. She met me with her own backward thrusts as well as she could tied in her rather awkward position. I pumped back and forth. It must have been entertaining for the men watching because they laughed, hooted and called out encouragement. I reached around her grasped her breasts and tweaked her nipples hard and twisted. It was painful and she cried out but thrust even harder. I felt the passion rise in her and she grunted rhythmically with pleasure, oblivious to all the men watching and their lewd comments. I moved my hands down to her hips to steady her and thrusting harder I felt her shudder and the walls of her vagina tighten around my cock in orgasm. Unable to hold back any longer I ejaculated so hard that had trouble keeping my feat. I collapsed against her back, holding on to her tightly. The legionaries laughed, applauded, and cheered us.
I parted from her exhilarated but spent and I moved away to watch as the solders each took their turn in fucking her. The first of the legionaries then stepped behind Julia and pulling up his tunic took his already hard member in his, rubbed it against her wet vulva, pushed it into her pussy and pumped her hard. Tied to the post in her bent over posture there was little that she could do but take it, but she thrust back in return. The legionary grunted loud when he ejaculated and pulled out. A second legionary stepped in his place. Lifting his tunic he rubbed a copious amount of saliva onto his member and then, using his wet finger, probed her asshole; he preferred anal entry. Julia accommodated him with return thrusts. He also grasped her nipples and twisted. The pain caused Julia to twist her ass erotically increasing his pleasure. He finally released with a loud cry and series of grunts. One by one all of the men who had a mind to satisfied their carnal lust.
Julia accommodated them with her own cries of pleasure, humping, and gyrations. I could not believe what a whore this beautiful young woman turned out to be, but this was her last pleasure and her last adventure and she was determined to get the most out of it. I could not blame the young woman for that. When the last of the legionaries was satisfied two of them took their positions on either side of her, each holding a leather whip made up of three heavy knotted strands. They were not truly Roman scourges with bits of metal woven into the thong. Such an instrument would take the skin off Julia’s back leading to massive blood loss and a relatively quick death once on the cross. The whips that we had chosen were painful and damaging in their own right but not as lethal.
I tied Julia’s long dark hair into a loose ponytail and draped it to the side off her shoulder to keep it out of the way. I noticed semen dripping from her vagina and anus trickling down her inner thighs. She was lovely though, her pale white skin, as yet inviolate, glistened in the sun, still wet with the sweat of her sexual exertions. But her lovely skin would soon be covered with ugly welts and blood.
“Your flagellation is about to begin.” I said softly to her. “It’s OK to cry and scream, there is no shame in that, don’t try to hold it in.”
She nodded that she understood. I could see the fear creeping into her eyes. I stood back and at my command each legionary in turn laid their whips to the task as hard as they could swing their arms, allowing about 10 seconds to pass between each blow for the shock and pain to take effect before the next blow was delivered. They started with her shoulders and worked their way down her body. With each stroke she shuttered and let out a heartrending cry. When they reached the middle of her back they made sure that the strands wrapped around her body enough to reach her breasts and nipples. Her back soon became a mess of angry red welts with trickles of blood running down her sided and flecking onto the ground. By the time they reached her ass Julia’s cries were coming out as rasping gasps. They then worked on the “sweet spot” where her ass met her upper thigh and her cries became inhuman shrieks.
The men stopped the process just above the knees and two fresh legionaries took their place. They worked their way back up her body, repeating the blows, until they reached her shoulders. At this point I took one of the whips and standing at Julia’s right shoulder I lay the whip downwards along the crack of her ass and between her legs, making sure that the knotted chords “kissed” her anus, labia, and clitoris. I had practiced this technique on other clients and become quite good at it. I gave her 12 strokes, as hard as I could swing, eliciting more shrieks of pain from the unfortunate young woman. I have to admit that I enjoyed watching her ass buck and squirm with every blow and noticed that my cock had again stiffened pushing out against the tunic that I wore.
After finishing my part I stepped away and checked my watch. About an hour and a half had passes since we started. It was time for her walk to the place of execution. I looked down at Julia. Her body was a mess of angry red welts and blood from her knees to her shoulders. Semen continued to drip from her orifices and mixed with the blood. A trickle of blood dripped from the corner of her mouth from where she had bitten her lip or tongue.
markus
Tribune
Part 4. Nailed to the Cross
One of the legionaries cut Julia down from the post and she collapsed on the ground, her knees falling on the sharp rocks and thorns beneath her. She cried out with this new pain and was dragged to her feet and the chord binding her wrists was cut. Two men lifted the patibulum, which weighed about 60 pounds and would make the crossbeam, and placed it on her bloodied shoulders. Julia let out a rasping cry and fell to her knees. Her arms were tied to the patibulum so that she would not drop it during her journey and then with the encouragement of the whips she clambered to her feet and started up the path that lead to the stipes at the top of the hill. The path was made of sharp rocks that we had strewn with thorns and burs and each step with her bare feet was an agony. She fell at least a dozen times by the time she reached the top of the hill. Each time she fell she was encouraged to her feet by the whips that the legionaries carried. By the time we reached the stipes her knees were bloody and she had thorns imbedded in the skin of her legs, thighs, and wherever else she came into contact with the ground when she fell.
Near the top she began crying for mercy, loosing the defiance that I had seen the evening before. Her eyes were wide with terror and she gasped repeatedly that “I’ve changed my mind, I want to go home, please let me go, please make it stop.”
This is not uncommon in most of my clients, they change their minds at the last minute or when things become more than they had expected. That is why a clause in their contract assures them that no matter what they say the scenario will be played out. Experience has taught me that if they are allowed to change their minds, they and I ultimately regret it.
Just before we reached the top of the hill Julia fell a last time. I squatted in front of her and grasping her shoulder I looked closely in her tear-filled eyes and said in a low voice, “The time to back out is long past. You want this, you asked for this and I am going to see that you get the full measure of what you asked for.”
Julia blinked at me as if to say that she understood what I was saying.
I continued “Take it all in, experience your last few hours, this is what you want.” From that point she never again asked for mercy. I nodded to the legionary and he gave Julia several blows with the whip to encourage he to her feet and get her walking again. When we reached the top of the hill Julia collapsed again to her knees. Gasping for breath she stared up at the stipes before her.
“Cornu?” She managed to gasp out. She had asked for this but it was not yet attached to the stipes.
“Don’t worry.” I replied. “It will be attached after you are nailed to the cross.”
She nodded that she understood. The legionaries untied her arms and lifted the patibulum from her shoulders and lay it on the ground in front of the stipes.
“May I please have some water?” she begged.
It is important to keep the condemned well hydrated otherwise they will quickly die on the cross so I ordered one of the legionaries to water her. The water that we provided was fortified with a dilute mixture of electrolytes to help fortify her. This was a bit of a variation from the Roman scenario but she did not notice and I wanted to keep her alive as long as possible. The legionary dipped a sponge that had been tied to a stick into a bucket of water and held it to her mouth. The sponge-on-a-stick was standard equipment for legionaries and used to clean themselves after using the toilet. As a part of the humiliation this is what the crucified were forced to drink from. I did not ask my men if they had used it for this purpose but I suspect that even if they had Julia was beyond caring.
“Get her into position.” I said.
Two of the legionaries lifted her, one by the shoulders, the other by her feet and lay her with her head just below the middle of the patibulum. They placed her hands onto the crossbeam about three feet apart. Marks had been made where she would be nailed. I had prepared six nails, square cut Roman spikes actually, eight inches long. I would need only four. Made of iron they were sharpened so that they would easily pierce her and drive into wood. The nails had broad heads that would prevent the arms and feet from pulling away once fixed.
Julia’s hands were tied in place on the patibulum with a thick chord and two of the legionaries straddled her, one sitting on her abdomen and the other on her legs. Her body crushed into the rocks, burrs, and thorns beneath her. She gasped in pain. Two others firmly held her arms. Her whipped tits sagged to either side of her chest. The curving lines of the bloody whip marks accentuated the size of the breasts and many of the men had a hard time keeping their eyes off them. She glanced around wide-eyed and let out a cry when she saw me holding the first nail.
I positioned the point of the nail on her right wrist with my left hand and held a five-pound mallet high with my right. Looking her in the eyes I said, “Prepare yourself.” Wide-eyed with terror and trembling violently she nonetheless gave me a faint nod of acquiescence. She relaxed her body and clenched her jaw and tightly shut her eyes. I came down hard with the mallet on the head of the nail. It penetrated flesh and bone and embedded deeply into the wood. Julia let out an inhuman screech. I can only imagine how painful it must have been. She continued to howl and scream as I pounded the nail until the head was flush with her wrist. The nail had penetrated her at the junction of the scaphoid, lunate, and capitate bones in her wrist. I noted that it must have damaged or severed the flexores digitorum tendons resulting in her index and middle fingers extending outward. This frequently happens during crucifixions. They would remain in that position until she died.
Firmly nailed in place my assistant cut the chord that had bound her right hand to the patibulum. I moved to the left hand and positioned the second nail on Julia’s wrist. Raising the mallet I again looked into her eyes, which were open wide with terror, I said nothing. This time she did not relax but watched and began her scream as the mallet came down. Her scream became an inhuman shriek as the nail penetrated flesh, bone, and wood. The shrieking continued as I pounded the nail into place.
I stood up and my assistants stood with me and we watched as the beautiful young Girl thrashed on the rocky, thorn strewn ground, screaming in pain, pinned to the patibulum by the two nails through her wrists.
“Lift her onto the stipes.” I said.
Four of the soldiers, two on either side of her lifted the patibulum with the attached woman. She scrambled to her feet trying to protect her nailed wrists from her weight as they lifted her. They backed her to the stipes and lifted her up. She screamed again with pain as all of her weight pressed onto the two nails that pierced her wrists. The patibulum was provided with a mortise that fit over a tenon at the top of the stipes. When the patibulum was positioned the legionaries let it drop onto the tenon with a thud, punctuated by another scream of pain from Julia. She hung momentarily with her feet a few inches from the ground; her eye level was about an inch above my eye level. She kicked wildly and tried to wrap her legs around the stipes to find footing to take her weight off her wrists. We let her hang that way for about ten minutes until she exhausted herself and hung limply. Her breath was coming in shallow pants.
Finally, I said, “Its time to nail her feet.”
Two of the men grasped her legs and bending them up and back positioning her ankles against the side of the stipes. A third man firmly tied her feet in place about a foot below her buttocks. The stipes was not a square post but an equilateral trapezoid in cross section with the short parallel to the back. With her ankles flush against the sides of the stipes Julia’s knees were splayed wide open affording a good view of her genitalia from the front. This position would also make it more difficult for her to avoid the cornu that I had prepared, when it was attached to the stipes.
With her feet tied in place she was able to lift herself up, giving temporary relief to her nailed wrists and easing her breathing. Her screams subsided into sobs of pain. I placed the point of the third nail against her left ankle between the base of the fibula where the calcaneus and talus meet. Julia did not notice that the nail was about to be pounded into her ankle. I swung the mallet hard and the nail drove through flesh and bone deep into the wood of the stipes. Taken by surprise she let out a high-pitched howl and her body arched forward. A thin stream of fluidy shit mixed with semen squirted from her asshole and ran down the front of the stipes. I pounded the nail into place and repeated the process with her right ankle as her high pitched screaming continued.
One of the legionaries cut Julia down from the post and she collapsed on the ground, her knees falling on the sharp rocks and thorns beneath her. She cried out with this new pain and was dragged to her feet and the chord binding her wrists was cut. Two men lifted the patibulum, which weighed about 60 pounds and would make the crossbeam, and placed it on her bloodied shoulders. Julia let out a rasping cry and fell to her knees. Her arms were tied to the patibulum so that she would not drop it during her journey and then with the encouragement of the whips she clambered to her feet and started up the path that lead to the stipes at the top of the hill. The path was made of sharp rocks that we had strewn with thorns and burs and each step with her bare feet was an agony. She fell at least a dozen times by the time she reached the top of the hill. Each time she fell she was encouraged to her feet by the whips that the legionaries carried. By the time we reached the stipes her knees were bloody and she had thorns imbedded in the skin of her legs, thighs, and wherever else she came into contact with the ground when she fell.
Near the top she began crying for mercy, loosing the defiance that I had seen the evening before. Her eyes were wide with terror and she gasped repeatedly that “I’ve changed my mind, I want to go home, please let me go, please make it stop.”
This is not uncommon in most of my clients, they change their minds at the last minute or when things become more than they had expected. That is why a clause in their contract assures them that no matter what they say the scenario will be played out. Experience has taught me that if they are allowed to change their minds, they and I ultimately regret it.
Just before we reached the top of the hill Julia fell a last time. I squatted in front of her and grasping her shoulder I looked closely in her tear-filled eyes and said in a low voice, “The time to back out is long past. You want this, you asked for this and I am going to see that you get the full measure of what you asked for.”
Julia blinked at me as if to say that she understood what I was saying.
I continued “Take it all in, experience your last few hours, this is what you want.” From that point she never again asked for mercy. I nodded to the legionary and he gave Julia several blows with the whip to encourage he to her feet and get her walking again. When we reached the top of the hill Julia collapsed again to her knees. Gasping for breath she stared up at the stipes before her.
“Cornu?” She managed to gasp out. She had asked for this but it was not yet attached to the stipes.
“Don’t worry.” I replied. “It will be attached after you are nailed to the cross.”
She nodded that she understood. The legionaries untied her arms and lifted the patibulum from her shoulders and lay it on the ground in front of the stipes.
“May I please have some water?” she begged.
It is important to keep the condemned well hydrated otherwise they will quickly die on the cross so I ordered one of the legionaries to water her. The water that we provided was fortified with a dilute mixture of electrolytes to help fortify her. This was a bit of a variation from the Roman scenario but she did not notice and I wanted to keep her alive as long as possible. The legionary dipped a sponge that had been tied to a stick into a bucket of water and held it to her mouth. The sponge-on-a-stick was standard equipment for legionaries and used to clean themselves after using the toilet. As a part of the humiliation this is what the crucified were forced to drink from. I did not ask my men if they had used it for this purpose but I suspect that even if they had Julia was beyond caring.
“Get her into position.” I said.
Two of the legionaries lifted her, one by the shoulders, the other by her feet and lay her with her head just below the middle of the patibulum. They placed her hands onto the crossbeam about three feet apart. Marks had been made where she would be nailed. I had prepared six nails, square cut Roman spikes actually, eight inches long. I would need only four. Made of iron they were sharpened so that they would easily pierce her and drive into wood. The nails had broad heads that would prevent the arms and feet from pulling away once fixed.
Julia’s hands were tied in place on the patibulum with a thick chord and two of the legionaries straddled her, one sitting on her abdomen and the other on her legs. Her body crushed into the rocks, burrs, and thorns beneath her. She gasped in pain. Two others firmly held her arms. Her whipped tits sagged to either side of her chest. The curving lines of the bloody whip marks accentuated the size of the breasts and many of the men had a hard time keeping their eyes off them. She glanced around wide-eyed and let out a cry when she saw me holding the first nail.
I positioned the point of the nail on her right wrist with my left hand and held a five-pound mallet high with my right. Looking her in the eyes I said, “Prepare yourself.” Wide-eyed with terror and trembling violently she nonetheless gave me a faint nod of acquiescence. She relaxed her body and clenched her jaw and tightly shut her eyes. I came down hard with the mallet on the head of the nail. It penetrated flesh and bone and embedded deeply into the wood. Julia let out an inhuman screech. I can only imagine how painful it must have been. She continued to howl and scream as I pounded the nail until the head was flush with her wrist. The nail had penetrated her at the junction of the scaphoid, lunate, and capitate bones in her wrist. I noted that it must have damaged or severed the flexores digitorum tendons resulting in her index and middle fingers extending outward. This frequently happens during crucifixions. They would remain in that position until she died.
Firmly nailed in place my assistant cut the chord that had bound her right hand to the patibulum. I moved to the left hand and positioned the second nail on Julia’s wrist. Raising the mallet I again looked into her eyes, which were open wide with terror, I said nothing. This time she did not relax but watched and began her scream as the mallet came down. Her scream became an inhuman shriek as the nail penetrated flesh, bone, and wood. The shrieking continued as I pounded the nail into place.
I stood up and my assistants stood with me and we watched as the beautiful young Girl thrashed on the rocky, thorn strewn ground, screaming in pain, pinned to the patibulum by the two nails through her wrists.
“Lift her onto the stipes.” I said.
Four of the soldiers, two on either side of her lifted the patibulum with the attached woman. She scrambled to her feet trying to protect her nailed wrists from her weight as they lifted her. They backed her to the stipes and lifted her up. She screamed again with pain as all of her weight pressed onto the two nails that pierced her wrists. The patibulum was provided with a mortise that fit over a tenon at the top of the stipes. When the patibulum was positioned the legionaries let it drop onto the tenon with a thud, punctuated by another scream of pain from Julia. She hung momentarily with her feet a few inches from the ground; her eye level was about an inch above my eye level. She kicked wildly and tried to wrap her legs around the stipes to find footing to take her weight off her wrists. We let her hang that way for about ten minutes until she exhausted herself and hung limply. Her breath was coming in shallow pants.
Finally, I said, “Its time to nail her feet.”
Two of the men grasped her legs and bending them up and back positioning her ankles against the side of the stipes. A third man firmly tied her feet in place about a foot below her buttocks. The stipes was not a square post but an equilateral trapezoid in cross section with the short parallel to the back. With her ankles flush against the sides of the stipes Julia’s knees were splayed wide open affording a good view of her genitalia from the front. This position would also make it more difficult for her to avoid the cornu that I had prepared, when it was attached to the stipes.
With her feet tied in place she was able to lift herself up, giving temporary relief to her nailed wrists and easing her breathing. Her screams subsided into sobs of pain. I placed the point of the third nail against her left ankle between the base of the fibula where the calcaneus and talus meet. Julia did not notice that the nail was about to be pounded into her ankle. I swung the mallet hard and the nail drove through flesh and bone deep into the wood of the stipes. Taken by surprise she let out a high-pitched howl and her body arched forward. A thin stream of fluidy shit mixed with semen squirted from her asshole and ran down the front of the stipes. I pounded the nail into place and repeated the process with her right ankle as her high pitched screaming continued.
markus
Tribune
Part 5 The Dance Begins
It was 9:34 AM when she was fully crucified. A strong, healthy young woman, she certainly would last several days. It was now time for her to begin her dance. The pain that Julia was feeling was unimaginable. She would try to stand on the nails pinning her feet until pain and exhaustion caused her to drop onto her wrists. Each time that she lifted herself up she would arch her back and thrust her pelvis out in a most provocative manner. Maybe the best sight of all, though, was her breasts. Even from behind he could see them swaying and wobbling as she moved. She twisted and writhed, trying to escape the pain but nothing helped. It was absolutely fascinating to watch her erotic display. We watered her every fifteen minutes or so. Every time the sponge was offered she drank. She glistened with sweat mixed with blood and urinated frequently. Trickles of blood ran down from the nail wounds in her wrists and ankles, but the blood loss was not serious. The day wore on and the sun rose. It the temperature reached about 95°F and Julia, having a light complexion, started to suffer from sunburn. Flies and other biting insects began to light on her and feast on her flesh, she didn’t seem to notice yet but eventually they added greatly to her torment. The legionaries laughed and made lewd comments to her as she continued to writhe and moan. Her legs splayed wide inviting their sexual attention.
About noon I stood in front of Julia and asked how she felt. “How long?” she gasped out.
“It’s barely started Julia.” I replied. “But you are doing well, you have at least two more days to go.”
She starred at me, contemplating what I said, and finally moaned softly, “When are you going to fuck me?”
Rather astonished I whetted my finger with saliva and ran it along her slit of her cunt, rubbing her clitoris. She responded by thrusting her hips back and forth slightly and closing her eyes. I didn’t want to fuck a cunt that was dripping the semen of a dozen other men but she had specified this as part of her contract. I stripped off my tunic and ignoring the catcalls and comments of the legionaries stood in front of her. I was at exactly the right height and I easily slipped my cock into her vagina and felt its walls enclose me. Steadying her hips with my hands I began rhythmically thrusting, looking deeply into her blue eyes the whole time. Riding my cock lifted her off the nails that pinned her wrists and ankles and gave her some relief and with each inward thrust Julia’a body jolted upward and she moaned in pain and pleasure. I did not think that I would be able to climax a third time in less than 24 hours but when I felt the walls of her vagina spasmically tighten their grip on my penis with her orgasm I unloaded my semen into her.
“Thank you, thank you.” Julia managed to whisper as we finished. I said nothing in reply and I pulled out and let her drop onto her wrists. She cried out in pain. She was ready for the cornu.
The Romans commonly attached a "horn" to the stipes and the victim would attempt to rest his/her perineum on its rounded point. The cornu, like the sedile, would allow the victim to breath while "resting" on it and prolong the time he/she would live hanging on the cross. Rather than a mercy this became a painful and humiliating tradeoff. Eventually, when the pain from the point of the cornu on the soft tissue of the groin became too intense the victim would take it into the rectum or, in the case of women, the vagina. No one really knows what a Roman cornu looked like. One source describes it as resembling a rhinoceros horn projecting up from the sedile. There likely were a number of variations. The cornu that I had prepared was made from a bull’s horn. The horn was mounted so that it projected several inched horizontally from the stipes before abruptly curving vertically upward tapering into a blunt point. When impaled its full length it would penetrate about 9 inches into Julia’s rectum or vagina, painfully stretching the opening of her orifices to about 5 inches in diameter. The horn had a slight left hand twist to it, which would add to the discomfort when she finally accepted it into her. It was mounted on a wooden block that fit into a grove provided on the stipes.
I stood in front of Julia and waited as she forced her way upward to breath, placing her weight onto her nailed ankles. When her groin cleared the prepared grove in the stipes I quickly inserted the cornu and bolted it into place. Julia, facing the sun and her eyes closed, didn’t realize what I had done and, after she gasped in a few breaths, let herself drop. The cornu caught her right under her tailbone, bruising her badly. Her eyes opened wide and she gasped in pain. Lifting herself off the horn she arched her back slid down, the cornu pushing into her back and forcing her body a few inches outward from the stipes. Soon she again lifted herself up to breath and to relieve the pressure on her nailed wrists. This time she let herself down slowly and attempted to rest her “taint” (perineum) on the blunt point. This relieved some of the pain in her wrists and ankles somewhat but she could stand the pressure of the cornu on that most sensitive part of her anatomy for only a few minutes. Soon she lifted herself off and forward, dropping to hang from her wrists.
That is how it went for several hours. She would trade the pain of her nailed ankles and wrists for the bruising pain of the cornu on her taint, various parts of her ass, and then along her crotch on either side of her vulva, never able to stand it in one place for very long. Each spot that rested on the point became badly bruised and she was forced to move the point to another location. She cried in frustration knowing that eventually she would have to take the cornu into one of her orifices. The only choice left open to her was which one first. The watching legionaries understood her quandary and laughed, made wagers with one another about her choice, and encouraged to her in a mocking way.
Julia finally chose her vagina. She had been hanging from her wrists for a few minutes gasping for air and with a frustrated cry she began to lift herself up, putting her weight on her nailed ankles. After taking a few deep breaths she carefully let herself down, the point of the cornu penetrating the folds of her labia. This was a new experience for her. She gently thrust her hips back and forth, moistening the tip of the horn and rubbing it against her clitoris. Her breaths were coming in short gasps as she became sexually aroused! I watched in amazement, as did the other men. The laughing and joking stopped. No one said anything it was just too astonishing a spectacle. Slowly she let herself slide down onto the cornu and it penetrated deep into her vagina. She now had most of her weight on it and she rocked her hips back and forth, oblivious to our watching. It slid in deeper, stretching her vaginal opening to its full diameter. I could restrain myself no longer. I moved to a position just in front of her and, licking my fingers, lightly stroked her clitoris, which was prominently displayed as she impaled herself on the cornu. In about thirty seconds my efforts were rewarded by loud grunting sounds from Julia, they were grunts of pleasure mixed with pain. She shuttered, her muscles contracted spastically, and then she fell silent. She had passed out from the intensity of her orgasm.
Julia awoke a few minutes later and laboriously lifted herself off of the cornu. Pleasure replaced by pain as its girth had stretched her vagina far more than the largest penis she had ever taken. Julia continued the dance into the evening, writhing and trying to escape the pain in her nailed wrists and ankles. She would swing herself forward or to the side to avoid the cornu but finally, out of desperation to reduce the pain from the nails, or to breath, she surrendered to the inevitable. Her vagina must have been terribly sore from her first encounter so the second time she took the horn into her anus. She quickly realized that this would be far more painful than taking it into her vagina and tried to lift off. But she cried in frustration when she realized that she did not have enough strength left in her legs.
The legionaries laughed and cheered her on as she slowly slipped down and the cornu penetrated deeper. Julia struggled, twisted, and squirmed, trying first to lift herself up and then, giving up to the inevitable, to ease its entry. Her legs were splayed wide, her hairy pussy open and inviting, the tits bounced together and wobbled back and forth. I cannot express in words how erotic this sight was and my penis again began to stiffen. Finally she passed out from the pain and slipped down until the full length of the cornu was buried deep in her rectum.
After a few minutes she woke and with an heroic effort finally lifted herself off the cornu. She farted loudly as its point finally emerged from her asshole, which was followed by a stream of thin brown fluid and blood. This spectacle elicited great mirth from the watching soldiers. She slumped down and hung by her wrists moaning softly. It was becoming dark and I used my flashlight to closely inspected her anus as she hung there, legs splayed, with her hips forced out by the cornu in her back. A trickle of blood seeped out. But the bleeding did not appear to be too serious though. “She has a long way to go before death finds her,” I thought to myself. It was getting toward nightfall and the legionaries built a fire to provide light and ward off the cold. The men would stay with her all night, providing water and keeping watch. I signaled to the Centurion in charge.
“The men can fuck her if they want to.” I told him. “But they must be careful, not to hard. If they dislocate her shoulder or pull her loose from the nails none of you get paid.”
“Don’t worry sir,” he replied. “That won’t happen.”
He then spoke to the group of men and they proceeded to draw lots. The winner pulled off his armor and tunic and approached Julia. It was almost comic to watch, the legionary’s ass bucked up and down with his large balls swinging between his legs and ass clinching with each upthrust. Julia’s head bounced from side to side with each thrust. Her eyes seemed to have glazed over from the pain and I wondered if she even knew she was being raped. When the second man started I watched for a while and left them and headed for the house.
It was 9:34 AM when she was fully crucified. A strong, healthy young woman, she certainly would last several days. It was now time for her to begin her dance. The pain that Julia was feeling was unimaginable. She would try to stand on the nails pinning her feet until pain and exhaustion caused her to drop onto her wrists. Each time that she lifted herself up she would arch her back and thrust her pelvis out in a most provocative manner. Maybe the best sight of all, though, was her breasts. Even from behind he could see them swaying and wobbling as she moved. She twisted and writhed, trying to escape the pain but nothing helped. It was absolutely fascinating to watch her erotic display. We watered her every fifteen minutes or so. Every time the sponge was offered she drank. She glistened with sweat mixed with blood and urinated frequently. Trickles of blood ran down from the nail wounds in her wrists and ankles, but the blood loss was not serious. The day wore on and the sun rose. It the temperature reached about 95°F and Julia, having a light complexion, started to suffer from sunburn. Flies and other biting insects began to light on her and feast on her flesh, she didn’t seem to notice yet but eventually they added greatly to her torment. The legionaries laughed and made lewd comments to her as she continued to writhe and moan. Her legs splayed wide inviting their sexual attention.
About noon I stood in front of Julia and asked how she felt. “How long?” she gasped out.
“It’s barely started Julia.” I replied. “But you are doing well, you have at least two more days to go.”
She starred at me, contemplating what I said, and finally moaned softly, “When are you going to fuck me?”
Rather astonished I whetted my finger with saliva and ran it along her slit of her cunt, rubbing her clitoris. She responded by thrusting her hips back and forth slightly and closing her eyes. I didn’t want to fuck a cunt that was dripping the semen of a dozen other men but she had specified this as part of her contract. I stripped off my tunic and ignoring the catcalls and comments of the legionaries stood in front of her. I was at exactly the right height and I easily slipped my cock into her vagina and felt its walls enclose me. Steadying her hips with my hands I began rhythmically thrusting, looking deeply into her blue eyes the whole time. Riding my cock lifted her off the nails that pinned her wrists and ankles and gave her some relief and with each inward thrust Julia’a body jolted upward and she moaned in pain and pleasure. I did not think that I would be able to climax a third time in less than 24 hours but when I felt the walls of her vagina spasmically tighten their grip on my penis with her orgasm I unloaded my semen into her.
“Thank you, thank you.” Julia managed to whisper as we finished. I said nothing in reply and I pulled out and let her drop onto her wrists. She cried out in pain. She was ready for the cornu.
The Romans commonly attached a "horn" to the stipes and the victim would attempt to rest his/her perineum on its rounded point. The cornu, like the sedile, would allow the victim to breath while "resting" on it and prolong the time he/she would live hanging on the cross. Rather than a mercy this became a painful and humiliating tradeoff. Eventually, when the pain from the point of the cornu on the soft tissue of the groin became too intense the victim would take it into the rectum or, in the case of women, the vagina. No one really knows what a Roman cornu looked like. One source describes it as resembling a rhinoceros horn projecting up from the sedile. There likely were a number of variations. The cornu that I had prepared was made from a bull’s horn. The horn was mounted so that it projected several inched horizontally from the stipes before abruptly curving vertically upward tapering into a blunt point. When impaled its full length it would penetrate about 9 inches into Julia’s rectum or vagina, painfully stretching the opening of her orifices to about 5 inches in diameter. The horn had a slight left hand twist to it, which would add to the discomfort when she finally accepted it into her. It was mounted on a wooden block that fit into a grove provided on the stipes.
I stood in front of Julia and waited as she forced her way upward to breath, placing her weight onto her nailed ankles. When her groin cleared the prepared grove in the stipes I quickly inserted the cornu and bolted it into place. Julia, facing the sun and her eyes closed, didn’t realize what I had done and, after she gasped in a few breaths, let herself drop. The cornu caught her right under her tailbone, bruising her badly. Her eyes opened wide and she gasped in pain. Lifting herself off the horn she arched her back slid down, the cornu pushing into her back and forcing her body a few inches outward from the stipes. Soon she again lifted herself up to breath and to relieve the pressure on her nailed wrists. This time she let herself down slowly and attempted to rest her “taint” (perineum) on the blunt point. This relieved some of the pain in her wrists and ankles somewhat but she could stand the pressure of the cornu on that most sensitive part of her anatomy for only a few minutes. Soon she lifted herself off and forward, dropping to hang from her wrists.
That is how it went for several hours. She would trade the pain of her nailed ankles and wrists for the bruising pain of the cornu on her taint, various parts of her ass, and then along her crotch on either side of her vulva, never able to stand it in one place for very long. Each spot that rested on the point became badly bruised and she was forced to move the point to another location. She cried in frustration knowing that eventually she would have to take the cornu into one of her orifices. The only choice left open to her was which one first. The watching legionaries understood her quandary and laughed, made wagers with one another about her choice, and encouraged to her in a mocking way.
Julia finally chose her vagina. She had been hanging from her wrists for a few minutes gasping for air and with a frustrated cry she began to lift herself up, putting her weight on her nailed ankles. After taking a few deep breaths she carefully let herself down, the point of the cornu penetrating the folds of her labia. This was a new experience for her. She gently thrust her hips back and forth, moistening the tip of the horn and rubbing it against her clitoris. Her breaths were coming in short gasps as she became sexually aroused! I watched in amazement, as did the other men. The laughing and joking stopped. No one said anything it was just too astonishing a spectacle. Slowly she let herself slide down onto the cornu and it penetrated deep into her vagina. She now had most of her weight on it and she rocked her hips back and forth, oblivious to our watching. It slid in deeper, stretching her vaginal opening to its full diameter. I could restrain myself no longer. I moved to a position just in front of her and, licking my fingers, lightly stroked her clitoris, which was prominently displayed as she impaled herself on the cornu. In about thirty seconds my efforts were rewarded by loud grunting sounds from Julia, they were grunts of pleasure mixed with pain. She shuttered, her muscles contracted spastically, and then she fell silent. She had passed out from the intensity of her orgasm.
Julia awoke a few minutes later and laboriously lifted herself off of the cornu. Pleasure replaced by pain as its girth had stretched her vagina far more than the largest penis she had ever taken. Julia continued the dance into the evening, writhing and trying to escape the pain in her nailed wrists and ankles. She would swing herself forward or to the side to avoid the cornu but finally, out of desperation to reduce the pain from the nails, or to breath, she surrendered to the inevitable. Her vagina must have been terribly sore from her first encounter so the second time she took the horn into her anus. She quickly realized that this would be far more painful than taking it into her vagina and tried to lift off. But she cried in frustration when she realized that she did not have enough strength left in her legs.
The legionaries laughed and cheered her on as she slowly slipped down and the cornu penetrated deeper. Julia struggled, twisted, and squirmed, trying first to lift herself up and then, giving up to the inevitable, to ease its entry. Her legs were splayed wide, her hairy pussy open and inviting, the tits bounced together and wobbled back and forth. I cannot express in words how erotic this sight was and my penis again began to stiffen. Finally she passed out from the pain and slipped down until the full length of the cornu was buried deep in her rectum.
After a few minutes she woke and with an heroic effort finally lifted herself off the cornu. She farted loudly as its point finally emerged from her asshole, which was followed by a stream of thin brown fluid and blood. This spectacle elicited great mirth from the watching soldiers. She slumped down and hung by her wrists moaning softly. It was becoming dark and I used my flashlight to closely inspected her anus as she hung there, legs splayed, with her hips forced out by the cornu in her back. A trickle of blood seeped out. But the bleeding did not appear to be too serious though. “She has a long way to go before death finds her,” I thought to myself. It was getting toward nightfall and the legionaries built a fire to provide light and ward off the cold. The men would stay with her all night, providing water and keeping watch. I signaled to the Centurion in charge.
“The men can fuck her if they want to.” I told him. “But they must be careful, not to hard. If they dislocate her shoulder or pull her loose from the nails none of you get paid.”
“Don’t worry sir,” he replied. “That won’t happen.”
He then spoke to the group of men and they proceeded to draw lots. The winner pulled off his armor and tunic and approached Julia. It was almost comic to watch, the legionary’s ass bucked up and down with his large balls swinging between his legs and ass clinching with each upthrust. Julia’s head bounced from side to side with each thrust. Her eyes seemed to have glazed over from the pain and I wondered if she even knew she was being raped. When the second man started I watched for a while and left them and headed for the house.
markus
Tribune
Part 6 The Second Day
The next morning I climbed the hill where the two legionaries stood watch. The fire had burned low and I asked how Julia was doing.
“She is flagging a little but holding on,” one of them said. “The men had a good time with her most of the night. She took the horn up her cunt again earlier this morning and came hard, this time without any help.”
“She’s got it up her ass now.” Another man remarked.
I smiled. It was gratifying that my client was getting the full experience that she asked for. The Centurian said, with a feral grin, “Her cunt’s a lot looser after she’s had the horn in it. So is her asshole.” He winked. “And do you know how hard it is to get your cock in her cunt with that damn horn up her ass? The men were complaining.”
“I’m sure they’ll get over it.” I replied.
I stood in front of her again. She was impaled on the cornu, which had penetrated her rectum to its full length. Her spread legs displayed her pussy, gapping wide after its recent violation. A swarm of flies were lighting on her labia and clitoris, feasting on the moist flesh. She starred down at me and seemed lucid.
I lifted her eyelids and peered into her bloodshot eyes, they focused on me and she managed a weak smile. I smiled back and opened her mouth. She had bitten her tongue, but not too badly. Her lips were still pink. I pulled her upper lip up and pressed my finger against her gum. When I released it turned pink quickly. Her heart was still strong and she was getting enough oxygen. We just needed to keep her watered and her electrolyte level up. I checked the pulse in her neck and it was still strong.
“How long?” she managed to gasp out.
“Probably another day or more.” I answered. “You’re not half finished.”
She moaned and started weeping softly.
“You’re doing very well,” I added softly. “You should be proud of yourself.”
Looking at me, I could see pleading in her eyes but she refused to beg, some of the old defiance was back. “You won’t kill me now, will you?” She said in an almost matter of fact way. “You won’t break my legs and let me die?”
“No, I won’t do that,” I replied. “You paid for the full time on the cross and that is what you will get. You’re very strong and it will probably take another day or more for you to die.”
She was quiet for a moment and we continued to look deeply into each other’s eyes. Finally she gasped “Thank you.” She drew a breath, “Thank you for doing this for me.” I could hardly believe my ears.
I reached out and gently squeezed Julia’s thigh. She managed a weak smile.
After that period of lucidity Julia soon slipped into a fog of pain and started mumbling incoherently and lifted herself off the cornu. She dropped and cried out in pain, a bright yellow stream of pee emitted from her urethra just beneath her clitoris. I stepped out of the way but not before my tunic was splashed with her urine. It had a strong smell to it. “It will wash.” I thought to myself. Several of the legionaries, who were watching, laughed. I ignored them. With a fart, Julia defecated and several loose turds with fresh blood and what looked like semen dropped at my feet. A good sign that things were still working inside.
I continued my examination Julia body. Her back, buttocks, and thighs were covered with ugly welts and dried blood from her flagellation the day before. Her flesh was penetrated by numerous thorns that had been strewn on the path along which she had carried her patibulum the day before. Many of these wounds appeared to be festering but they were superficial. Her feet and knees were badly bruised and bloodied by the sharp rocks that she had tread and fallen upon. The blood had dried and scabs had formed. Ugly corneas of blackened flesh surrounded the nailwounds in her ankles and dried blood and they seeped constant trickle of fresh blood. Looking closely at her wrists they appeared to be in the same condition. Her huge breasts were badly bruised by the abuse of the men who had repeatedly raped her and her once lovely nipples were bloodied after being almost twisted off. Flies and gnats swarmed over her body, especially where she had bled, stinging, biting, and drinking her fluids. The sun had burned her skin badly by this time, a process that would continue as the second day of her crucifixion wore on. Her torment must have been incredible.
For the rest of the day my assistants kept Julia well watered. She urinated frequently and continued the dance. It became rather routine. She would hang for some minutes from her wrists then she would fight her way upward exchanging the wrist pain for pain in her ankles. Each time that she did this she thrust her hips erotically outward or to the side as she tried to balance herself on the nails that penetrated her ankles. She would gasp for air and then, when her ankles could take the pain no longer, settle onto the cornu. First trying to balance the point on her perineum or elsewhere on her groin and finally taking it into her vagina or rectum. After resting for a few minutes the pain caused by the cornu would force her to lift herself off and slide forward to hang again from her wrists. And the cycle would repeat itself, over and over again. She felt no more sexual arousal from the cornu that I could discern, it had simply become instrument of torture. The support it provided served only to keep her alive to endure more torment. I never tired of watching the drama, the dance of pain and death. I stood and watched for hours as the day slipped by.
That evening, after the sun set, Julia began babbling incoherently. Her sunburn had become so bad that she was blistering and the blackened areas around her nail holes were spreading. I wondered if she would live through the night or if she would die of septic shock. I had ordered the legionaries to start a fire in a brazier that they had set up a short distance from where Julia hung on her cross. A day and a half into the crucifixion, Julia’s senses had become dulled and I decided it was time to ratchet her pain level up a bit. Once again there was no evidence that Romans actually made use of additional torture when their victims were on a cross, but there also was no evidence that they did not. I think it was likely that they used every means possible to increase the agony of their death. Julia had asked for this additional torture and it was time to give them to her at this point. When the coals were glowing, I placed several iron rods into the brazier. One of the legionaries began operating a small bellows and the iron rods soon were glowing red.
Julia was oblivious to what I was preparing until I approached her with the glowing rod. Even in her exhausted state her eyes grew wide with terror as I showed it to her. She shook her head and muttered, “No, please, not that.”
Without a word I applied the red hot metal to her armpit. Her skin sizzled. Instantly Julia cried out and her body arched and she lifted off the cornu that had been impaled her rectum. I continued to trace a tattoo under her left armpit. When the rod ceased to glow red I placed it into the brazier and selected another and started on her right armpit. Julia writhed and gasped in pain, but she was just too exhausted to scream. I replaced the second rod with a third and traced a circle around her right nipple, her skin sizzling and burning as I went. I did the same to her left breast. She continued writhing and groaning in pain, when I sank the skewer into the left tit. Julia screamed as I ran the skewer about half way through her jug before I pulled it out and repeated the process on her right breast. I then retrieved a set of red-hot pincers from the brazier and grasping her left nipple, I pulled her breast out and using a knife I sliced off slowly her tit. Julia screamed and writhed this time. I quickly cauterized the wound to stop her bleeding. Then selecting another set of pincers I repeated the process on her left tit. She did not scream this time but continued to writhe in pain. I replaced the implements in the brazier and when they were once again glowing read, I selected one of the rods and began work on Julia’s inner thighs, working my way up to her vulva. She emitted an inhuman shriek when the red-hot metal came into contact with her labia and tried to squirm away as I used the rod to explore her vagina. Finally, using the glowing pincers, I grasped her clit and cut it away with my knife. Julia screamed again as I cauterized the wound.
“I don’t think anyone is going to want to fuck her now.” The Centurion remarked to me. I agreed, Julia was not looking very sexy at this point.
At that point we were interrupted by a rain shower and I ended this stage of Julia’s torture. The legionaries and I waited out the rain under a nearby shelter. When it had passed the temperature had dropped. I checked on Julia. Her hair was drenched and she was trembling uncontrollably. Her shin was blistered and charred where I had burned her. She was seated with the cornu, which fully impaled her rectum. In a moment of lucidity she looked at me.
“How long?” she managed to croak out.
“Maybe tomorrow afternoon? Tomorrow evening?” I replied. “Possibly the next day.”
Her head slumped. I walked back down the hill.
The next morning I climbed the hill where the two legionaries stood watch. The fire had burned low and I asked how Julia was doing.
“She is flagging a little but holding on,” one of them said. “The men had a good time with her most of the night. She took the horn up her cunt again earlier this morning and came hard, this time without any help.”
“She’s got it up her ass now.” Another man remarked.
I smiled. It was gratifying that my client was getting the full experience that she asked for. The Centurian said, with a feral grin, “Her cunt’s a lot looser after she’s had the horn in it. So is her asshole.” He winked. “And do you know how hard it is to get your cock in her cunt with that damn horn up her ass? The men were complaining.”
“I’m sure they’ll get over it.” I replied.
I stood in front of her again. She was impaled on the cornu, which had penetrated her rectum to its full length. Her spread legs displayed her pussy, gapping wide after its recent violation. A swarm of flies were lighting on her labia and clitoris, feasting on the moist flesh. She starred down at me and seemed lucid.
I lifted her eyelids and peered into her bloodshot eyes, they focused on me and she managed a weak smile. I smiled back and opened her mouth. She had bitten her tongue, but not too badly. Her lips were still pink. I pulled her upper lip up and pressed my finger against her gum. When I released it turned pink quickly. Her heart was still strong and she was getting enough oxygen. We just needed to keep her watered and her electrolyte level up. I checked the pulse in her neck and it was still strong.
“How long?” she managed to gasp out.
“Probably another day or more.” I answered. “You’re not half finished.”
She moaned and started weeping softly.
“You’re doing very well,” I added softly. “You should be proud of yourself.”
Looking at me, I could see pleading in her eyes but she refused to beg, some of the old defiance was back. “You won’t kill me now, will you?” She said in an almost matter of fact way. “You won’t break my legs and let me die?”
“No, I won’t do that,” I replied. “You paid for the full time on the cross and that is what you will get. You’re very strong and it will probably take another day or more for you to die.”
She was quiet for a moment and we continued to look deeply into each other’s eyes. Finally she gasped “Thank you.” She drew a breath, “Thank you for doing this for me.” I could hardly believe my ears.
I reached out and gently squeezed Julia’s thigh. She managed a weak smile.
After that period of lucidity Julia soon slipped into a fog of pain and started mumbling incoherently and lifted herself off the cornu. She dropped and cried out in pain, a bright yellow stream of pee emitted from her urethra just beneath her clitoris. I stepped out of the way but not before my tunic was splashed with her urine. It had a strong smell to it. “It will wash.” I thought to myself. Several of the legionaries, who were watching, laughed. I ignored them. With a fart, Julia defecated and several loose turds with fresh blood and what looked like semen dropped at my feet. A good sign that things were still working inside.
I continued my examination Julia body. Her back, buttocks, and thighs were covered with ugly welts and dried blood from her flagellation the day before. Her flesh was penetrated by numerous thorns that had been strewn on the path along which she had carried her patibulum the day before. Many of these wounds appeared to be festering but they were superficial. Her feet and knees were badly bruised and bloodied by the sharp rocks that she had tread and fallen upon. The blood had dried and scabs had formed. Ugly corneas of blackened flesh surrounded the nailwounds in her ankles and dried blood and they seeped constant trickle of fresh blood. Looking closely at her wrists they appeared to be in the same condition. Her huge breasts were badly bruised by the abuse of the men who had repeatedly raped her and her once lovely nipples were bloodied after being almost twisted off. Flies and gnats swarmed over her body, especially where she had bled, stinging, biting, and drinking her fluids. The sun had burned her skin badly by this time, a process that would continue as the second day of her crucifixion wore on. Her torment must have been incredible.
For the rest of the day my assistants kept Julia well watered. She urinated frequently and continued the dance. It became rather routine. She would hang for some minutes from her wrists then she would fight her way upward exchanging the wrist pain for pain in her ankles. Each time that she did this she thrust her hips erotically outward or to the side as she tried to balance herself on the nails that penetrated her ankles. She would gasp for air and then, when her ankles could take the pain no longer, settle onto the cornu. First trying to balance the point on her perineum or elsewhere on her groin and finally taking it into her vagina or rectum. After resting for a few minutes the pain caused by the cornu would force her to lift herself off and slide forward to hang again from her wrists. And the cycle would repeat itself, over and over again. She felt no more sexual arousal from the cornu that I could discern, it had simply become instrument of torture. The support it provided served only to keep her alive to endure more torment. I never tired of watching the drama, the dance of pain and death. I stood and watched for hours as the day slipped by.
That evening, after the sun set, Julia began babbling incoherently. Her sunburn had become so bad that she was blistering and the blackened areas around her nail holes were spreading. I wondered if she would live through the night or if she would die of septic shock. I had ordered the legionaries to start a fire in a brazier that they had set up a short distance from where Julia hung on her cross. A day and a half into the crucifixion, Julia’s senses had become dulled and I decided it was time to ratchet her pain level up a bit. Once again there was no evidence that Romans actually made use of additional torture when their victims were on a cross, but there also was no evidence that they did not. I think it was likely that they used every means possible to increase the agony of their death. Julia had asked for this additional torture and it was time to give them to her at this point. When the coals were glowing, I placed several iron rods into the brazier. One of the legionaries began operating a small bellows and the iron rods soon were glowing red.
Julia was oblivious to what I was preparing until I approached her with the glowing rod. Even in her exhausted state her eyes grew wide with terror as I showed it to her. She shook her head and muttered, “No, please, not that.”
Without a word I applied the red hot metal to her armpit. Her skin sizzled. Instantly Julia cried out and her body arched and she lifted off the cornu that had been impaled her rectum. I continued to trace a tattoo under her left armpit. When the rod ceased to glow red I placed it into the brazier and selected another and started on her right armpit. Julia writhed and gasped in pain, but she was just too exhausted to scream. I replaced the second rod with a third and traced a circle around her right nipple, her skin sizzling and burning as I went. I did the same to her left breast. She continued writhing and groaning in pain, when I sank the skewer into the left tit. Julia screamed as I ran the skewer about half way through her jug before I pulled it out and repeated the process on her right breast. I then retrieved a set of red-hot pincers from the brazier and grasping her left nipple, I pulled her breast out and using a knife I sliced off slowly her tit. Julia screamed and writhed this time. I quickly cauterized the wound to stop her bleeding. Then selecting another set of pincers I repeated the process on her left tit. She did not scream this time but continued to writhe in pain. I replaced the implements in the brazier and when they were once again glowing read, I selected one of the rods and began work on Julia’s inner thighs, working my way up to her vulva. She emitted an inhuman shriek when the red-hot metal came into contact with her labia and tried to squirm away as I used the rod to explore her vagina. Finally, using the glowing pincers, I grasped her clit and cut it away with my knife. Julia screamed again as I cauterized the wound.
“I don’t think anyone is going to want to fuck her now.” The Centurion remarked to me. I agreed, Julia was not looking very sexy at this point.
At that point we were interrupted by a rain shower and I ended this stage of Julia’s torture. The legionaries and I waited out the rain under a nearby shelter. When it had passed the temperature had dropped. I checked on Julia. Her hair was drenched and she was trembling uncontrollably. Her shin was blistered and charred where I had burned her. She was seated with the cornu, which fully impaled her rectum. In a moment of lucidity she looked at me.
“How long?” she managed to croak out.
“Maybe tomorrow afternoon? Tomorrow evening?” I replied. “Possibly the next day.”
Her head slumped. I walked back down the hill.
markus
Tribune
Part 7 Death
I was delayed by other business in checking on Julia until late morning of the third day. I climbed the hill at about 11:30 AM to where Julia hung from her cross. Several legionaries were keeping watch over her. The fire that they had built the night before had gone out and the weather was getting hot.
“How is our client doing?” I asked.
“Not too good,” a legionary answered. “She danced most of the night but by about 10:00 this morning she settled down with the horn up her ass and hasn’t moved much since.”
“Has she taken any water?” I asked.
“Not since about 9:00, and hardly any then. She wants to die sir.”
I shook my head in agreement. I would not have been terribly surprised to find her dead by this time, but she was very strong. I examined her body closely. She hardly resembled the beautiful young woman in my office three days earlier. By this time she stank so bad it was hard to stand near her. Cut, bruised, bloodied, and covered with flies and gnats, her beautiful black hair was now a tangled matted mess. The wounds made by the nails were massively infected. The skin on her thighs and under her arms was charred and blistered with burns as were her tit-less chest. Puss and blood dripped from her gaping cunt, her labia badly burned from my torture the night before, and of course she was now missing her clitoris and tits. I suspected that she was suffering internal injuries and infections caused by the cornu deep within both her vagina and rectum. In fact I believe that if we had taken her down at that point, even with medical intervention and antibiotics, she would have soon died. But I had no intention of intervening, she would remain nailed to the cross. While examining her she became aware of my presence and asked weakly, “How long?”
“This evening? Tomorrow morning for sure.” I replied.
She was ready to die. “If she could will it she would be dead now.” I thought to myself. Julia’s head slumped. Continuing to check her vital signs I detected that her heartbeat was much slower. Her lips were parched and taking on a darker hue, due to the effects of anoxia, but she did start taking water again when it was offered and continued the dance, though at a much slower pace than before. She lingered, babbling incoherently, seated herself on the cornu, tortured by her numerous wounds, burned by the sun, tormented by biting insects. The dance of death continued into the late afternoon and early evening.
At about 7:30 PM Julia seemed to muster her final strength. She lifted herself off the horn, which she had up her ass, and writhing and groaning she slid forward and dropped. She hung from her wrists, her legs splayed wide with the cornu in the small of her back arching her body forward. Her breathing grew more laborious. I suspected that her lungs were filling with fluid. After about fifteen minutes she began to struggle upward to better breath. Her eyes looked directly into mine and for a few seconds there was lucidity.
“Just relax, let yourself die.” I whispered to her. I believe that she understood. I reached up and gently stroked her cheek. Her eyes welled with tears. She settled down and hung from her wrists again and she gave me a faint smile and I believe that she mouthed the words “Thank you” before dropping into unconsciousness for the last time.
Julia’s labored breathing continued for some time but then almost imperceptibly it stopped. I placed my fingers on the side of her neck and felt as her pulse slowed and finally ceased. The time was 8:55. I was very glad that I was with her at the end. It had been more than 62 hours since her ordeal had begun and she lasted more than 59 hours nailed to the cross before death released her. I dismissed the legionaries and walked back down the hill.
Julia requested that she be left on the cross in death just as a crucified Roman slave would have been. We did this. After several weeks the carrion birds reduced her to a skeleton and finally the bones dropped to the ground and were scattered by animals. I have to admit that I refrained from visiting her too often during that time because I didn’t like to watch, or smell, the process of her decay. Interestingly though, I observed wisps of her black hair in several birds’ nests in the area. In one an industrious bird had even made good use of her pubic hair. I collected a few strands as a keepsake.
I was back on the top of the hill after a couple of months and not much was left of Julia by then. Her skull was mostly intact, lying at the base of the stipes, but the lower jaw had disappeared. Nothing was left of her hands, the carpel bones being scattered and the nails that I had driven through them protruded alone from the patibulum. Parts of her ankles were still nailed firmly to the stipes, held together by some remaining connective tissue. A few of her larger bones lay scattered on the ground. I collected what I could find and buried them in a shallow grave near where the stipes still stands. Walking back by the stapes a glint on the ground caught my eye and I stooped down to pick it up. It was one of her silver ear studs, the “T” shaped cross like the one on which she ended her life. I keep it in a small box along with her pubic hairs.
I have fulfilled several hundred women’s death fantasies during the past four years but none of them have affected me the way Julia has. She endured what must be the most intense form of execution ever devised and she endured it with great dignity. I suppose that I will always remember her fondly. She was beautiful and she died a beautiful death of her own choosing.
THE END
I was delayed by other business in checking on Julia until late morning of the third day. I climbed the hill at about 11:30 AM to where Julia hung from her cross. Several legionaries were keeping watch over her. The fire that they had built the night before had gone out and the weather was getting hot.
“How is our client doing?” I asked.
“Not too good,” a legionary answered. “She danced most of the night but by about 10:00 this morning she settled down with the horn up her ass and hasn’t moved much since.”
“Has she taken any water?” I asked.
“Not since about 9:00, and hardly any then. She wants to die sir.”
I shook my head in agreement. I would not have been terribly surprised to find her dead by this time, but she was very strong. I examined her body closely. She hardly resembled the beautiful young woman in my office three days earlier. By this time she stank so bad it was hard to stand near her. Cut, bruised, bloodied, and covered with flies and gnats, her beautiful black hair was now a tangled matted mess. The wounds made by the nails were massively infected. The skin on her thighs and under her arms was charred and blistered with burns as were her tit-less chest. Puss and blood dripped from her gaping cunt, her labia badly burned from my torture the night before, and of course she was now missing her clitoris and tits. I suspected that she was suffering internal injuries and infections caused by the cornu deep within both her vagina and rectum. In fact I believe that if we had taken her down at that point, even with medical intervention and antibiotics, she would have soon died. But I had no intention of intervening, she would remain nailed to the cross. While examining her she became aware of my presence and asked weakly, “How long?”
“This evening? Tomorrow morning for sure.” I replied.
She was ready to die. “If she could will it she would be dead now.” I thought to myself. Julia’s head slumped. Continuing to check her vital signs I detected that her heartbeat was much slower. Her lips were parched and taking on a darker hue, due to the effects of anoxia, but she did start taking water again when it was offered and continued the dance, though at a much slower pace than before. She lingered, babbling incoherently, seated herself on the cornu, tortured by her numerous wounds, burned by the sun, tormented by biting insects. The dance of death continued into the late afternoon and early evening.
At about 7:30 PM Julia seemed to muster her final strength. She lifted herself off the horn, which she had up her ass, and writhing and groaning she slid forward and dropped. She hung from her wrists, her legs splayed wide with the cornu in the small of her back arching her body forward. Her breathing grew more laborious. I suspected that her lungs were filling with fluid. After about fifteen minutes she began to struggle upward to better breath. Her eyes looked directly into mine and for a few seconds there was lucidity.
“Just relax, let yourself die.” I whispered to her. I believe that she understood. I reached up and gently stroked her cheek. Her eyes welled with tears. She settled down and hung from her wrists again and she gave me a faint smile and I believe that she mouthed the words “Thank you” before dropping into unconsciousness for the last time.
Julia’s labored breathing continued for some time but then almost imperceptibly it stopped. I placed my fingers on the side of her neck and felt as her pulse slowed and finally ceased. The time was 8:55. I was very glad that I was with her at the end. It had been more than 62 hours since her ordeal had begun and she lasted more than 59 hours nailed to the cross before death released her. I dismissed the legionaries and walked back down the hill.
Julia requested that she be left on the cross in death just as a crucified Roman slave would have been. We did this. After several weeks the carrion birds reduced her to a skeleton and finally the bones dropped to the ground and were scattered by animals. I have to admit that I refrained from visiting her too often during that time because I didn’t like to watch, or smell, the process of her decay. Interestingly though, I observed wisps of her black hair in several birds’ nests in the area. In one an industrious bird had even made good use of her pubic hair. I collected a few strands as a keepsake.
I was back on the top of the hill after a couple of months and not much was left of Julia by then. Her skull was mostly intact, lying at the base of the stipes, but the lower jaw had disappeared. Nothing was left of her hands, the carpel bones being scattered and the nails that I had driven through them protruded alone from the patibulum. Parts of her ankles were still nailed firmly to the stipes, held together by some remaining connective tissue. A few of her larger bones lay scattered on the ground. I collected what I could find and buried them in a shallow grave near where the stipes still stands. Walking back by the stapes a glint on the ground caught my eye and I stooped down to pick it up. It was one of her silver ear studs, the “T” shaped cross like the one on which she ended her life. I keep it in a small box along with her pubic hairs.
I have fulfilled several hundred women’s death fantasies during the past four years but none of them have affected me the way Julia has. She endured what must be the most intense form of execution ever devised and she endured it with great dignity. I suppose that I will always remember her fondly. She was beautiful and she died a beautiful death of her own choosing.
THE END
nicole
Tribune
I knew this story but I read it again with pleasure. Thank you Markus, kisses
carloscruz
Governor
The author is GregJM
markus
Tribune
Yes!
She can still cum and piss without the cloth... it gives us a better view
Attachments
Nail Her to the Cross
Magistrate
I was not aware cows came.
yes..she will cum hard like a nailed cow should ....both her eager pussy and lustful asshole...to enjoy all the pleasures of the cross......and of course to please the lust of the crowd...and the women in the crowd will rush forward fighting each other to lock their lips on her eager pussy and lustful asshole not wasting a drop of her luscious juices...
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I'm still not comfortable with the cow comparison, but yes, all that goes without saying.
Nail Her to the Cross
Magistrate
Yes...it may help her dance better.......even better prior to her nailing scourge her pussy, erect nipples and lustful asshole....with a leg spreader on hoisted up on her tip toes...to concentrate her bodys lustful suffering and pleasures making sure it is coming from the whip and not her nailing
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