Hammerlock
Executioner
How does one describe the cold, searing, excruciating agony of an eight-inch garden spike being hammered through one's wrist? The body involuntarily arches and every muscle tenses to the point of cramping. The searing waves of agony shoot with lightning speed up and down the arm, in waves of nearly unbearable pain. Your breath comes in hard gasps, your chest heaves as the spike is hammered down, and down, and down, forcing it's way through the slightly undersized hole in the crossbeam awaiting it,until finally the head of the nail contacts the bones of your wrist. The hammering stops, your chest heaves with the effort of trying to breathe and trying not to scream--Richard would not get that satisfaction from me!
I lay prostrate, panting heavily, as hot blood swelled up around the nailhead and cascaded in liquid rivers around my wrist. Mona, sobbing, stood over me, trying to keep her senses intact. Through the waves of ice-cold agony forging through my brain, I could see that she was close to swooning. My penis throbbed, and I could feel a small drop of warm liquid oozing out of the head.
Stumbling, Richard right behind her, Mona crossed over to the other side of the cross, placed another spike in my other wrist, and once again the ordeal began. Within seconds, I was pinned by both wrists to the rough wooden crossbeam, laboring to breathe, the shock of being nailed to a cross throbbing through every inch of my body. Mona collapsed in a sobbing heap, but Richard wasn't through yet.
Pulling her up by the hair, he pushed the struggling girl to where my feet lay tied to the cross. With one hand, he untied the cords around my ankle. My first thought was to deliver a good swift kick to the head, but I realized it wouldn't help my position any. Best to just cooperate and get it done. As my breathing became easier, I shifted my feet into position, one over the other.
Richard smiled. "Attaboy," he said, "no sense making it worse for yourself." He pulled my feet into the position he wanted them, with my knees slightly bent and my feet flat on the upright, and turned to Mona.
"You'll have to hit this one pretty hard," he told her, almost like a teacher with a pupil. "There's no hole under it, so it's going to go in hard." She gazed at him in befuddled amazement through tear-flooded eyes, then raised the hammer, placed the spike, and hammered it down.
Like with the wrists, the spike bit through my feet with absurd ease, and started through the wood as I heaved in agony. Unable to muster up sufficient force to pound the nail all the way down, Mona backed off, crying. The spike protruded from my bloody feet, as Richard took Mona by the arm, led her over to a nearby tree, and handcuffed her hands behind her. Then he placed a noose around her neck and tied the other end of the rope to the tree. Mona sagged to the ground, kneeling, her face hidden by her hair, sobbing, and Richard returned to where I lay gasping on the cross.
Without a word, he picked up the hammer and viciously hammered the spike all the way through. I was now nailed to a cross, and crucifixion wasn't far behind.
Taking out a large hunting knife, Richard seized my swollen penis and stretched it out tight, placing the razor-edged knife at the base. "I should castrate you, fucker, and let you spend the rest of your life gazing at where your dick used to be." He pressed the knife edge into the stretched-out flesh, and did a slow sawing motion with it. I could feel the cold edge bite through the skin. "But you know why I'm going to let you keep it for a while?"
I gazed at him, gasping heavily, and forced the words out. "You've...obviously done your homework, Dick." I emphasized the "dick," and his eyes got hard with anger. Richard did not like being called Dick, and his grip on my penis got tighter. "There are...two arteries in the male penis. If you...cut it off now...I'll die within minutes. And you don't want that...do you, Dick? You want me to hang around for awhile."
"Nice choice of words," he smiled as he released his grip. "Hang around is just what you're going to do." For the next several minutes, he busied himself, tying a long rope to the top of the cross--I still didn't know what was written on the placard above my head--then stretching the rope over two long saplings that he had cut and tied together at the top. They straddled the foot of the cross, and would provide the fulcrum necessary to get the cross started upward. The other end of the rope was fastened to the back of the Quadrunner. Richard mounted the ATV, fired it up, and began driving it forward. The cross shifted under me, then began rising as dirt spurted out the back tires of the ATV. Higher and higher I rose, gravity pulling me down as the cross rose higher, until it was fully erect and prevented from going forward by the foundation at the foot.
Getting off the ATV, Richard returned to the cross, and, kneeling out oif the way of any urine spray I might have decided to send down on him, placed another large bolt through the holes at the base, fixing the cross in a upright position. He returned to the ATV, untied the rope, and flicked it out of sight behind ther cross. Then he stood, hands on hips, gazing triumphantly up and me.
It was done. I was crucified. Hanging from my impaled wrists, I struggled involuntarily, trying to find a more-comfortable position, although of course there was none to be had. My body felt like it weighed a ton, my shoulders screamed in agony, and my impaled extremities seared with pain. My swollen penis waved in front of me like an obscene flag. Accepting the reality of the situation, I stopped struggling and hung at arm's length, waiting for his next move. Mona was moaning softly in the background, the sun was beating down on me fiercely, and my aching nude body thrilled with the agony of crucifixion.
Richard pulled a long stick, with a sponge impaled on it, out of a nearby bucket of water and held the dripping mass up to my face. Gratefully, I sucked the nourishing, lifegiving water from the sponge, feeling it cascading down my parched throat.
"More?" he asked. I shook my head. He replaced the sponge in the bucket, then said, "It's in my best interests to keep you alive as long as possible up there. You're going to get thirsty in the next couple days, and you can have as much water as you want. Just ask."
He placed a rough wooden footstool at the foot of the cross, then retrieved Mona from the tree where she was tied and led her, hands still cuffed behind her, to the foot of the cross. "Get up there, bitch," he said, holding her arm, helped her up onto the footstool. She stood there uncertainly, my penis waving in front of her face, and looked at him questioningly.
"I'm tired of seeing that thing waving at me," he said, pointing to my throbbing cock. "I'm not entirely unmerciful. I'm willing to let him have some fun. You know what to do."
Mona looked up at me with her tear-stained face, the love in her eyes shining through. "Yes," she whispered, "I know what to do." Bending her head, she kissed the end of my penis, and then slid it into her mouth. Balanced on the footstool, she worked it back and forth in her mouth, her hot tongue caressing it as her lips slid along the shaft, her hair brushing against my thighs as she worked.
It didn't take long. I had always had a fantasy about receiving a blowjob while crucified, and here it was actually happening.The unbearable agony of lava rising in my cock finally reached a bursting point, and she briefly gagged in surprise as I shot the biggest, most excruciating load of my life into her throat. I groaned in delicious agony, thrusting wildly and contorting my body unbearably as wave after wave of lava burst from me, the screaming pain in my wrists and feet combining with the screaming pain in my swollen cock to create the longest, hardest, and most excruciating orgasm of my life. Recovering quickly, she swallowed it all, as she always did, all the while working my cock back and forth to get the last aching drop of semen from it, until there was no more left to give. I collapsed helplessly, breathing heavily, almost sobbing with the ecstasy, the clearing dancing and wavering in my eyes as I hung, barely conscious, on the cross.
Mona smiled up at me, licked my penis clean, and then kissed it. "I love you," she whispered, and I could see that she was glad to at least have been able to give me some pleasure on this agonizing day. She stepped down from the footstool, and Richard kicked it away. Then he led her back to the tree, secured her as before, and rummaged around in the pile of supplies next to the tent. When he again approached me, he was holding a short wooden stick in his hand. From the end of it hung several long strands of knotted rope. He slapped it against his thigh and stood looking up at me.
"Okay, fucker," he said. "The fun part's over. Now it's time for me to have some fun." He raised the whip and brought it slashing across my torso.
--To be continued
I lay prostrate, panting heavily, as hot blood swelled up around the nailhead and cascaded in liquid rivers around my wrist. Mona, sobbing, stood over me, trying to keep her senses intact. Through the waves of ice-cold agony forging through my brain, I could see that she was close to swooning. My penis throbbed, and I could feel a small drop of warm liquid oozing out of the head.
Stumbling, Richard right behind her, Mona crossed over to the other side of the cross, placed another spike in my other wrist, and once again the ordeal began. Within seconds, I was pinned by both wrists to the rough wooden crossbeam, laboring to breathe, the shock of being nailed to a cross throbbing through every inch of my body. Mona collapsed in a sobbing heap, but Richard wasn't through yet.
Pulling her up by the hair, he pushed the struggling girl to where my feet lay tied to the cross. With one hand, he untied the cords around my ankle. My first thought was to deliver a good swift kick to the head, but I realized it wouldn't help my position any. Best to just cooperate and get it done. As my breathing became easier, I shifted my feet into position, one over the other.
Richard smiled. "Attaboy," he said, "no sense making it worse for yourself." He pulled my feet into the position he wanted them, with my knees slightly bent and my feet flat on the upright, and turned to Mona.
"You'll have to hit this one pretty hard," he told her, almost like a teacher with a pupil. "There's no hole under it, so it's going to go in hard." She gazed at him in befuddled amazement through tear-flooded eyes, then raised the hammer, placed the spike, and hammered it down.
Like with the wrists, the spike bit through my feet with absurd ease, and started through the wood as I heaved in agony. Unable to muster up sufficient force to pound the nail all the way down, Mona backed off, crying. The spike protruded from my bloody feet, as Richard took Mona by the arm, led her over to a nearby tree, and handcuffed her hands behind her. Then he placed a noose around her neck and tied the other end of the rope to the tree. Mona sagged to the ground, kneeling, her face hidden by her hair, sobbing, and Richard returned to where I lay gasping on the cross.
Without a word, he picked up the hammer and viciously hammered the spike all the way through. I was now nailed to a cross, and crucifixion wasn't far behind.
Taking out a large hunting knife, Richard seized my swollen penis and stretched it out tight, placing the razor-edged knife at the base. "I should castrate you, fucker, and let you spend the rest of your life gazing at where your dick used to be." He pressed the knife edge into the stretched-out flesh, and did a slow sawing motion with it. I could feel the cold edge bite through the skin. "But you know why I'm going to let you keep it for a while?"
I gazed at him, gasping heavily, and forced the words out. "You've...obviously done your homework, Dick." I emphasized the "dick," and his eyes got hard with anger. Richard did not like being called Dick, and his grip on my penis got tighter. "There are...two arteries in the male penis. If you...cut it off now...I'll die within minutes. And you don't want that...do you, Dick? You want me to hang around for awhile."
"Nice choice of words," he smiled as he released his grip. "Hang around is just what you're going to do." For the next several minutes, he busied himself, tying a long rope to the top of the cross--I still didn't know what was written on the placard above my head--then stretching the rope over two long saplings that he had cut and tied together at the top. They straddled the foot of the cross, and would provide the fulcrum necessary to get the cross started upward. The other end of the rope was fastened to the back of the Quadrunner. Richard mounted the ATV, fired it up, and began driving it forward. The cross shifted under me, then began rising as dirt spurted out the back tires of the ATV. Higher and higher I rose, gravity pulling me down as the cross rose higher, until it was fully erect and prevented from going forward by the foundation at the foot.
Getting off the ATV, Richard returned to the cross, and, kneeling out oif the way of any urine spray I might have decided to send down on him, placed another large bolt through the holes at the base, fixing the cross in a upright position. He returned to the ATV, untied the rope, and flicked it out of sight behind ther cross. Then he stood, hands on hips, gazing triumphantly up and me.
It was done. I was crucified. Hanging from my impaled wrists, I struggled involuntarily, trying to find a more-comfortable position, although of course there was none to be had. My body felt like it weighed a ton, my shoulders screamed in agony, and my impaled extremities seared with pain. My swollen penis waved in front of me like an obscene flag. Accepting the reality of the situation, I stopped struggling and hung at arm's length, waiting for his next move. Mona was moaning softly in the background, the sun was beating down on me fiercely, and my aching nude body thrilled with the agony of crucifixion.
Richard pulled a long stick, with a sponge impaled on it, out of a nearby bucket of water and held the dripping mass up to my face. Gratefully, I sucked the nourishing, lifegiving water from the sponge, feeling it cascading down my parched throat.
"More?" he asked. I shook my head. He replaced the sponge in the bucket, then said, "It's in my best interests to keep you alive as long as possible up there. You're going to get thirsty in the next couple days, and you can have as much water as you want. Just ask."
He placed a rough wooden footstool at the foot of the cross, then retrieved Mona from the tree where she was tied and led her, hands still cuffed behind her, to the foot of the cross. "Get up there, bitch," he said, holding her arm, helped her up onto the footstool. She stood there uncertainly, my penis waving in front of her face, and looked at him questioningly.
"I'm tired of seeing that thing waving at me," he said, pointing to my throbbing cock. "I'm not entirely unmerciful. I'm willing to let him have some fun. You know what to do."
Mona looked up at me with her tear-stained face, the love in her eyes shining through. "Yes," she whispered, "I know what to do." Bending her head, she kissed the end of my penis, and then slid it into her mouth. Balanced on the footstool, she worked it back and forth in her mouth, her hot tongue caressing it as her lips slid along the shaft, her hair brushing against my thighs as she worked.
It didn't take long. I had always had a fantasy about receiving a blowjob while crucified, and here it was actually happening.The unbearable agony of lava rising in my cock finally reached a bursting point, and she briefly gagged in surprise as I shot the biggest, most excruciating load of my life into her throat. I groaned in delicious agony, thrusting wildly and contorting my body unbearably as wave after wave of lava burst from me, the screaming pain in my wrists and feet combining with the screaming pain in my swollen cock to create the longest, hardest, and most excruciating orgasm of my life. Recovering quickly, she swallowed it all, as she always did, all the while working my cock back and forth to get the last aching drop of semen from it, until there was no more left to give. I collapsed helplessly, breathing heavily, almost sobbing with the ecstasy, the clearing dancing and wavering in my eyes as I hung, barely conscious, on the cross.
Mona smiled up at me, licked my penis clean, and then kissed it. "I love you," she whispered, and I could see that she was glad to at least have been able to give me some pleasure on this agonizing day. She stepped down from the footstool, and Richard kicked it away. Then he led her back to the tree, secured her as before, and rummaged around in the pile of supplies next to the tent. When he again approached me, he was holding a short wooden stick in his hand. From the end of it hung several long strands of knotted rope. He slapped it against his thigh and stood looking up at me.
"Okay, fucker," he said. "The fun part's over. Now it's time for me to have some fun." He raised the whip and brought it slashing across my torso.
--To be continued