Synthetic Agony (story)

[Jacktrade]

All characters in this story are 18 years or older.

Westworld the HBO show as well as Rome World the short story by Polly Plummer were the primary inspirations for this story. I wanted to add my own take on the concept. I thought that the setting of lifelike androids living in a park dedicated to serving the darkest of human desires provided some unique opportunities for torment that are at least somewhat original. So, I wrote this story.

For me, one of the most interesting aspects of crucifixion is the cruelty of it. It's one of the most painful and humiliating ways to die, and in our fantasies it's often happening to an innocent young girl. Usually a girl that's the least deserving of it. It creates such a stark contrast between the beautiful innocence and horrific brutality. For me this appeal means that the stronger the contrast, the more effective the fantasy. If you make the death crueler and the victim more pure then the fantasy becomes more potent.

I will warn you that this tale gets pretty dark even by the standards of a forum that is dedicated to the fetishization of crucifixion. I don't mean that the story is particularly gory, but more that the things I do to my protagonist are pretty fucked up. If I had to tag what I mean without spoiling the story, it'd probably belong under 'incest' and 'existential dread'. It also doesn't have a happy ending, so fair warning there.

As far as finishing the story goes, I've already written it all out, and I plan on releasing a chapter a day for about a week until the whole thing is released. Hope you all enjoy.

Thank you very much for reading.

 

[Jacktrade]

Prologue​

"Please sit back and relax miss Lawrence. The procedure should take approximately thirty minutes to complete," says the robotic nurse.

I take a deep breath and try to relax as I sit back against the operating table. I exhale to calm myself and check my pulse. Nope, my heart is still pounding like crazy.

I’m not surprised. This is a once in a lifetime chance to finally be cured and it’s difficult to contain my excitement. This procedure would have been impossible without the access my family has to some of the most advanced technology in the world. Not to mention it would have been far too expensive for almost everyone. Most people couldn't even dream of affording this kind of treatment, but I was not most people. I was a Lawrence. The daughter of one of the most powerful men in the world.

"We are now administering the anesthesia" the robotic nurse says.

As I feel the cool liquid enter my vein, I feel myself begin to drift away into sleep, but anxiety still lingers in my body like a tide that refuses to recede. I'm much more nervous than I can remember being in a long time. I have spent most of my childhood with a rare blood disease that has threatened to end my life at any moment. Since I was eight my parents have spent a vast fortune trying to cure me, and I've cycled through countless hospitals, doctors, and procedures in the last ten years. Sitting on an operating table should feel like routine, but today is different. They're not trying to cure my body.

I'm getting a new one.

Having a father that owns the most advanced sim park in the world comes with its perks. Growing up I had unlimited access to the most cutting edge simulations of historical eras anywhere. When I wasn't hospitalized I spent almost all my time chasing bandits in the old West or playing detective on the streets of Victorian London. Guests paid ungodly sums of money to experience worlds that were filled with the most advanced tech in simulating weather, atmosphere, and people that had ever been developed. I got to experience it all for free.

The critical point though had been the people simulating part. All of the park's actors are androids that are nearly indistinguishable from the real thing. Each one plays their part incredibly convincingly, and able to improvise with stunning intelligence. My father was on the cutting edge of what was possible when it came to simulating life, and in the last decade my genius of a brother has stepped in to help him outpace every other competing company.

Actually, it was my brother that had the idea to transfer my consciousness to an actor's body. It was an incredibly dangerous proposition. If anything went wrong I would be dead, but I am running out of time. My condition is rapidly getting worse and my parents are desperate. My brother reassured us that this would work. They ultimately agreed, and I did too.

Honestly, the thought of dying doesn't scare me. It would honestly be a relief. I've faced death every day for the past ten years, and finally being able to rest without pain doesn't sound so bad. It's the thought of the procedure working that makes me nervous. The thought that I can have a new body, a new life, fills me with hope. So many cures have been tried before, and after a while I’ve grown used to the idea that nothing will work. Getting my hopes up only to have them dashed every time is too painful. So, I learned to believe that nothing will work. I simply live each day and try to be grateful for the little moments of joy that I get from spending with my family.

"Please begin counting backwards from one hundred"

I do as the nurse asks and can already feel my eyelids growing heavy. My heartbeat begins to slow, and as my consciousness slips away I look to my left at the body which my mind will soon inhabit. My parents designed it. It looks just like me, but without any trace of the disease that has worn me down for the past decade. No bags under the eyes from sleep interrupted by pain and no pale skin from constant blood treatments. Just the body of a perfectly healthy young woman.

The only big difference is the eyes. The disease had managed to change the color from its original blue to a dull gray. In recognition of a renewed life, I had requested that they be changed to green. My parents enthusiastically agreed.

I can barely form coherent thoughts now. My vision goes dark and I can hear the machines that will be responsible for my consciousness transfer begin to hum. I continue counting down, but as I reach 90 even my thoughts evaporate into oblivion.

My last thought is a simple plea to whatever god might be listening.

Please let this work.

 

[Jacktrade]

Chapter 1: Imprisonment​

I wake up with a start. I'm lying down. It's dark. Am I still in the hospital?

I try to puzzle out where I am for only a second before I realize what I feel. Nothing. No pain and no fatigue. No more unbearable aching that pulses with every heartbeat and none of the brain fog that comes from copious amounts of painkillers. I'm healthy.

I giggle and my ears start to tear up. I still feel like me. I know that whatever body I'm in isn't flesh and blood, but a synthetically printed recreation of actual flesh... but it feels just like the real thing. I test my fingers and smile as I feel them move. I wiggle my toes and am delighted at the sensation. I have to show my parents!

I quickly try to sit up and am forcefully jerked back by something around my neck. I cough and frantically reach up to remove it and feel a thick cold metal band clasped around my throat. Then I feel the iron manacles around my wrist. I try to contain my panic.

Why am I chained down? Where am I?

My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness and I can just barely make out that I'm inside of a dimly lit cell. The walls are made of stone, the only real feature is the bed of straw that I find myself resting on, and the only light seems to be dim torchlight coming from beneath the heavy wooden door.

I look down at myself. I am dressed in a tattered rag of a dress and I can feel how messy my hair is, but even in the dim light the beauty of my new figure is striking. Long legs with smooth skin, a thin lithe frame that would make supermodels jealous, and rounded perky breasts that I can't help but feel a little self-conscious of. This isn't the body I picked out for myself. That body had looked exactly like me. This one was... it was beautiful, but it wasn't mine. Why-

"Hello sister. Good to see you awake."

I jump as I realize that I am not alone in this room. I quickly try to sit up, but the chain attached to my neck makes it difficult to move. I can't see him, but I can sense him sitting in the corner of the room behind me.

The voice comes from the darkness, a deep masculine voice. I recognize it as my brother's, but there's a menacing undertone to his words. I can feel a cold sweat begin to break out all over my body. I try to calm myself and approach this rationally.

"Justin? Is that you? What's going on?"

At least that's what I try to say. What comes out of my mouth is an unintelligible mumble of words in a language I do not recognize. I try again, but only more foreign syllables emerge from my lips. I'm starting to panic.

"No use trying to speak dear sister. That new body can only speak a very obscure dialect of ancient Gaelic."

He stands up and begins to approach me. I try to scramble away, but the chains keep me in place.

"I bet you're wondering what's going on. Well, let me fill you in. The operation was a failure. You died on the operating table and your consciousness, your soul, was lost forever. At least that's what our parents believe. The truth is that I rigged the operation so that your mind would be routed back to my workshop. Once there I transplanted your consciousness into a vessel that better suits you." He says this matter-of-factly, his words dripping with arrogant glee.

He finally steps out of the shadows and I can see his face. It's Justin, my brother. But he's never looked like this before. There's a cruelty in his eyes that wasn't there before. Was it?

I feel a shiver of fear run down my back.

"From there it was a simple matter of placing the new you into the park."

I try to focus. Try to process his words. The park. I'm in the park. Judging by the architecture of the cell I'm probably in the ancient Rome section. I try to remember the layout, but this part of the park was one that I had always stayed away from.

Each section of the park had a specific type of guest it wanted to cater to. The Old West was for those that wanted to play hero, The New World was for those who wanted adventure, and Rome World was for the guests that wanted sexual decadence and brutal violence. It was a place that I had found distasteful. It was one thing when someone got shot or hanged in the old west, but there had been a civility to the whole thing. The beheadings, slavery, and barbaric disregard for human life in the Roman section of the park had sickened me even as I got older.

"You're probably wondering what happens next." Justin continues "Well, you're an actor now, so you should probably get used to playing your role. Specifically you have the part of the former princess of some barbarian Gaelic nation that waged war against Rome. You've been captured and you're here to serve as an example of what happens when you defy Rome's might."

I feel my blood run cold. I spent a lot of time in bed reading history books, and I know what kinds of atrocities Rome did to its enemies.

"It's a pretty easy role dear sister. All you really have to do is endure what's coming next. Rest assured that it will be quite the show for our guests."

I begin desperately asking him questions. "Why are you doing this? Is this some kind of sick joke? Justin if this is a prank it’s not funny!" My words come out as Gaelic gibberish, but I desperately voice them anyway.

"Are you begging for mercy? Asking why I did it? Well, you should know why. With you out of the way I inherit everything. The park, the company, and all of our family's assets. At least that's what'd I'd tell

the cops if they ever figure out what happened. They won't by the way. I made sure of that."

He leans in close. Close enough for me to see the burning hatred in his eyes.

"No, the real reason is that I get everything back. I get all of our parent's attention that you stole from me. Our childhood was nothing but non-stop worrying about you. I spent countless hours building myself into someone that our parents would notice, but in the end I couldn't compete with a few cancer cells in your blood. Their stupid precious fragile little girl."

"Don't worry though. You're about to get all the attention you could ever ask for."

Click.

I hear a key turning in the lock of the cell door. It opens and two Roman Legionaries enter the cell and begin unlocking my shackles from the floor and wall with practiced efficiency. I begin begging Justin for mercy with everything that I have. Tears stream down my cheeks as I plead for him to stop this.

Then, he raises a hand and gives a command. The soldiers freeze in place, their programming overridden by Justin's command. To my horror I do too. I try to move my body, but nothing responds. Every part of me is still. My eyelids don't even blink.

He pulls a tablet from his pocket and begins poking at its screen.

"I almost forgot. I designed this event just for you, but I want it to be extra special. Really dial the settings in just right."

He turns the tab to face me. It's a setting screen for one of the actors, and the headshot photo is of a beautiful young woman with red hair. The screen shows that her name is Aisling. She looks young, about my age. I look closer and see with sickening realization that she has green eyes. I understand immediately. This is me. This is my new body. He's holding my life in his hands.

My eyes follow his fingers to the setting sliders on the screen, and I feel cold dread wash over me. His fingers are on the nerve sensitivity slider. With a flourish he ratchets up the setting.

I feel the effects immediately. My skin becomes hypersensitive and I can feel everything. The manacles which were a minor irritant before now feel like a ring of burning fire around my limbs. The soldiers roughly gripping my arms feels like vice grips around my flesh. I want to scream, but my lungs remain frozen.

He's not done though, he scrolls down and dials up my chastity sensitivity. With a blush I then feel how horribly exposed I am. How the dress I am wearing is too short and how much of my bare legs and arms are showing. I am viscerally aware of my nipples brushing against the thin fabric of the dress and forming two small bumps in the fabric for all to see. I want to scream and cover myself, but my body remains locked in place.

With a final move he moves his finger against the glass screen one more time. I can't even see the words that pop up on the screen. It's too blurry through my tears.

"There we go. Now for the final touch."

He presses a button and I can immediately feel what he's done. My body begins to grow hot and I can feel a smoldering pressure between my legs. I try to squeeze my thighs together. They remain frozen. I can already feel myself getting wet. This new sensation brings another massive wave of shame, and in my head I curse him with every cuss word I know.

"Have fun dear sister." Justin says with a mocking smile.

"Resume." He commands.

Immediately the two soldiers and I spring back to life. They roughly pick me up, pinning my arms behind my back. They tie my wrists together and force me to walk forward.

"Let's go whore!" The one behind me says, his breath hot on the back of my neck. I try to protest but my body is raging with terror, shame, and the building pressure of desire, and I'm finding it difficult to focus on anything but putting one foot in front of the other.

I try desperately to manage the overwhelming sensations as the soldiers drag me out of my cell and towards whatever hell my brother has prepared for me.

 

[JustJJ]

A powerful start with an intriguing setup. I’m certainly going to be anticipating each addition to this story.

 

[Barbaria1]

Intriguing and very well written.

 

[Aeolus]

Looks very interesting start. Hope for good continue!

 

[tygavin]

Chapter 1: Imprisonment​

I wake up with a start. I'm lying down. It's dark. Am I still in the hospital?

I try to puzzle out where I am for only a second before I realize what I feel. Nothing. No pain and no fatigue. No more unbearable aching that pulses with every heartbeat and none of the brain fog that comes from copious amounts of painkillers. I'm healthy.

I giggle and my ears start to tear up. I still feel like me. I know that whatever body I'm in isn't flesh and blood, but a synthetically printed recreation of actual flesh... but it feels just like the real thing. I test my fingers and smile as I feel them move. I wiggle my toes and am delighted at the sensation. I have to show my parents!

I quickly try to sit up and am forcefully jerked back by something around my neck. I cough and frantically reach up to remove it and feel a thick cold metal band clasped around my throat. Then I feel the iron manacles around my wrist. I try to contain my panic.

Why am I chained down? Where am I?

My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness and I can just barely make out that I'm inside of a dimly lit cell. The walls are made of stone, the only real feature is the bed of straw that I find myself resting on, and the only light seems to be dim torchlight coming from beneath the heavy wooden door.

I look down at myself. I am dressed in a tattered rag of a dress and I can feel how messy my hair is, but even in the dim light the beauty of my new figure is striking. Long legs with smooth skin, a thin lithe frame that would make supermodels jealous, and rounded perky breasts that I can't help but feel a little self-conscious of. This isn't the body I picked out for myself. That body had looked exactly like me. This one was... it was beautiful, but it wasn't mine. Why-

"Hello sister. Good to see you awake."

I jump as I realize that I am not alone in this room. I quickly try to sit up, but the chain attached to my neck makes it difficult to move. I can't see him, but I can sense him sitting in the corner of the room behind me.

The voice comes from the darkness, a deep masculine voice. I recognize it as my brother's, but there's a menacing undertone to his words. I can feel a cold sweat begin to break out all over my body. I try to calm myself and approach this rationally.

"Justin? Is that you? What's going on?"

At least that's what I try to say. What comes out of my mouth is an unintelligible mumble of words in a language I do not recognize. I try again, but only more foreign syllables emerge from my lips. I'm starting to panic.

"No use trying to speak dear sister. That new body can only speak a very obscure dialect of ancient Gaelic."

He stands up and begins to approach me. I try to scramble away, but the chains keep me in place.

"I bet you're wondering what's going on. Well, let me fill you in. The operation was a failure. You died on the operating table and your consciousness, your soul, was lost forever. At least that's what our parents believe. The truth is that I rigged the operation so that your mind would be routed back to my workshop. Once there I transplanted your consciousness into a vessel that better suits you." He says this matter-of-factly, his words dripping with arrogant glee.

He finally steps out of the shadows and I can see his face. It's Justin, my brother. But he's never looked like this before. There's a cruelty in his eyes that wasn't there before. Was it?

I feel a shiver of fear run down my back.

"From there it was a simple matter of placing the new you into the park."

I try to focus. Try to process his words. The park. I'm in the park. Judging by the architecture of the cell I'm probably in the ancient Rome section. I try to remember the layout, but this part of the park was one that I had always stayed away from.

Each section of the park had a specific type of guest it wanted to cater to. The Old West was for those that wanted to play hero, The New World was for those who wanted adventure, and Rome World was for the guests that wanted sexual decadence and brutal violence. It was a place that I had found distasteful. It was one thing when someone got shot or hanged in the old west, but there had been a civility to the whole thing. The beheadings, slavery, and barbaric disregard for human life in the Roman section of the park had sickened me even as I got older.

"You're probably wondering what happens next." Justin continues "Well, you're an actor now, so you should probably get used to playing your role. Specifically you have the part of the former princess of some barbarian Gaelic nation that waged war against Rome. You've been captured and you're here to serve as an example of what happens when you defy Rome's might."

I feel my blood run cold. I spent a lot of time in bed reading history books, and I know what kinds of atrocities Rome did to its enemies.

"It's a pretty easy role dear sister. All you really have to do is endure what's coming next. Rest assured that it will be quite the show for our guests."

I begin desperately asking him questions. "Why are you doing this? Is this some kind of sick joke? Justin if this is a prank it’s not funny!" My words come out as Gaelic gibberish, but I desperately voice them anyway.

"Are you begging for mercy? Asking why I did it? Well, you should know why. With you out of the way I inherit everything. The park, the company, and all of our family's assets. At least that's what'd I'd tell

the cops if they ever figure out what happened. They won't by the way. I made sure of that."

He leans in close. Close enough for me to see the burning hatred in his eyes.

"No, the real reason is that I get everything back. I get all of our parent's attention that you stole from me. Our childhood was nothing but non-stop worrying about you. I spent countless hours building myself into someone that our parents would notice, but in the end I couldn't compete with a few cancer cells in your blood. Their stupid precious fragile little girl."

"Don't worry though. You're about to get all the attention you could ever ask for."

Click.

I hear a key turning in the lock of the cell door. It opens and two Roman Legionaries enter the cell and begin unlocking my shackles from the floor and wall with practiced efficiency. I begin begging Justin for mercy with everything that I have. Tears stream down my cheeks as I plead for him to stop this.

Then, he raises a hand and gives a command. The soldiers freeze in place, their programming overridden by Justin's command. To my horror I do too. I try to move my body, but nothing responds. Every part of me is still. My eyelids don't even blink.

He pulls a tablet from his pocket and begins poking at its screen.

"I almost forgot. I designed this event just for you, but I want it to be extra special. Really dial the settings in just right."

He turns the tab to face me. It's a setting screen for one of the actors, and the headshot photo is of a beautiful young woman with red hair. The screen shows that her name is Aisling. She looks young, about my age. I look closer and see with sickening realization that she has green eyes. I understand immediately. This is me. This is my new body. He's holding my life in his hands.

My eyes follow his fingers to the setting sliders on the screen, and I feel cold dread wash over me. His fingers are on the nerve sensitivity slider. With a flourish he ratchets up the setting.

I feel the effects immediately. My skin becomes hypersensitive and I can feel everything. The manacles which were a minor irritant before now feel like a ring of burning fire around my limbs. The soldiers roughly gripping my arms feels like vice grips around my flesh. I want to scream, but my lungs remain frozen.

He's not done though, he scrolls down and dials up my chastity sensitivity. With a blush I then feel how horribly exposed I am. How the dress I am wearing is too short and how much of my bare legs and arms are showing. I am viscerally aware of my nipples brushing against the thin fabric of the dress and forming two small bumps in the fabric for all to see. I want to scream and cover myself, but my body remains locked in place.

With a final move he moves his finger against the glass screen one more time. I can't even see the words that pop up on the screen. It's too blurry through my tears.

"There we go. Now for the final touch."

He presses a button and I can immediately feel what he's done. My body begins to grow hot and I can feel a smoldering pressure between my legs. I try to squeeze my thighs together. They remain frozen. I can already feel myself getting wet. This new sensation brings another massive wave of shame, and in my head I curse him with every cuss word I know.

"Have fun dear sister." Justin says with a mocking smile.

"Resume." He commands.

Immediately the two soldiers and I spring back to life. They roughly pick me up, pinning my arms behind my back. They tie my wrists together and force me to walk forward.

"Let's go whore!" The one behind me says, his breath hot on the back of my neck. I try to protest but my body is raging with terror, shame, and the building pressure of desire, and I'm finding it difficult to focus on anything but putting one foot in front of the other.

I try desperately to manage the overwhelming sensations as the soldiers drag me out of my cell and towards whatever hell my brother has prepared for me.

Holy shit.

 

[thecuriousone]

Interesting start, I like to read more of it.

 

[Jacktrade]

Chapter 2: Flogging​

As the soldiers pull me through the dark hallways of the prison, I try desperately to think of some way out of this situation. This is an act, a simulation. This isn't real. My body isn't real. It's a meticulously printed android made of synthetic flesh and blood.

I try to wake up from this nightmare, but no matter how hard I concentrate, the rough hands gripping me stay locked in place and the stone floor remains unyielding beneath my feet. This isn't real. But it is. It feels real. If anything the billions of sensors running through my synthetic flesh make everything feel more vivid than they ever would have in my old body. This feels more like reality than anything I have ever experienced.

I'm beginning to hyperventilate, the fear is overwhelming. I do not want this. My old body was fragile, constantly weakened by my condition. It had no stamina, and had grown used to pain.

This one is different. It’s strong. Healthy.

It’s also incredibly sensitive.

My mind is a storm. Every sensation is amplified ten-fold, the feeling of the soldiers hands holding me, the chill air of the Roman morning, the stone underfoot, the hot shame of my body's response, and worst of all the unrelenting heat between my legs. I feel myself growing more and more aroused, and I hate that I feel burning desire in a situation this catastrophic.

This is not real, this is not real. This can't be real.

My internal chant continues as they drag me towards my inevitable fate. My mind races, trying desperately to find a way out, but coming up empty.

We exit the dungeons through a bright doorway and step out onto the street. I squint my eyes against the harsh sunlight. As my vision adjusts I begin to hear the jeers and catcalls of the crowd.

"Hey look at her. She's gorgeous!"

"Those are some nice tits."

"Not so high and mighty now!"

"Look at that tight ass."

My ears take in the crass comments, and as my eyes adjust to the bright light of the morning the first thing that I register is the lustful expressions on their faces. I've never experienced being stared at like this, and the intensity of the attention is overwhelming. My face flushes red. I want to cover myself up, but my hands are tied behind my back. I desperately wish for more clothing than this flimsy scrap of a dress that barely covers me.

The soldiers keep moving, and I'm forced to walk through the growing crowd. It’s largely made up of actors, but there are a handful of guests scattered throughout. The greasy touch of their hands feels the same though as they reach out and grab me, gripping my ass and squeezing my breasts. I try to keep from crying out, but I fail and pitiful moans escape from my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to shut them out.

This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

I am not sure how long it takes, but the soldiers finally lead me to our destination. They drag me up onto a platform and force me down onto my knees, and I feel rough wood scrape the tender skin of my legs. They've led me to a podium overlooking the crowd with its only feature being a tall pole in the center of the stage. Standing above them now I can see the sheer scale of the audience. Hundreds of men and women are here, all staring at me. A mix of both actors and guests, but all of them here to witness my execution. All of them here to enjoy it.

An announcer begins reading out my crimes and the crowd boos and jeers. I'm accused of a multitude of offenses, mostly crimes against the Empire. I don't pay any attention though. My focus is split between the throbbing ache between my legs and the vicious stares of the crowd on my scantily clad figure. I breathe heavily and try to form some semblance of a plan.

"Welcome to Rome princess. You ready to begin?" comes a voice to my right.

The deep tone so close to my ear startles me out of my thoughts. I turn my head to my side where I see a man towering over me. He is a Roman commander. His uniform says he's a Centurion. He's handsome, in an intimidating way. Broad shoulders, dark hair, and a square jaw. I can see Justin's handiwork in his design. His creations for the park always had a tendency to be a little more beautiful than what might be possible in reality.

He reaches his hand down and roughly grabs a fistful of my hair. My heart leaps in my chest. He's just an actor I try to reassure myself, but even the most trained eye hasn't been able to tell real people from actors for at least fifteen years. All that I know is that the hungry glare he's giving me makes me want to curl up into a ball and hide.

I try to jerk away, but he's too strong.

"Oh, don't try to run little girl. I'm just introducing myself. I'm Varius. I'm here to oversee your execution. Your father gave us a lot of trouble and we lost a lot of good men in bringing him down. Men who have mothers and widows in the audience today. I'm going to make you suffer, and it's going to be spectacular!"

I try to give him the command to freeze, but my mouth only utters foreign syllables.

"Don't speak our language, eh? Don't worry, we'll communicate with you in a way that you barbarian brutes can understand."

He lets go of my hair and walks behind me where I cannot see him.

The announcer finishes reading out my crimes and then announces the sentence.

"The princess is to be flogged, humiliated, forced to carry her cross outside the city, and crucified until she is dead."

I freeze in shock at the announcement and my brain struggles to process the words. Then realization catches up to me. I begin retching what little is in my stomach onto the platform. The soldiers chuckle in amusement as they hoist me to my feet. Wave after wave of fear crashes over me as I try to comprehend the true horror of what I have been condemned to.

“What’s wrong little girl? Did you actually understand some of that?” One of the soldiers asks mockingly.

I know more about crucifixion than most. Justin often excitedly explained to me how it's considered one of the most painful execution methods ever devised. It could take hours, sometimes days, for the victim to die, and the whole time they suffered exposure, dehydration, muscle cramps, and dislocated limbs. I saw a glimpse of an actor being crucified in this section of the park when I was much younger, and the sight of that poor girl covered in blood and howling on her cross had haunted my nightmares for months.

They drag me to the center of the platform where the wooden post rises straight up into the sky. My hands are untied from behind my back and then tied to the wooden post high above my head. I scream out the commands to make the actors stop, but only Gaelic comes out.

The cracking explosion of a thunderclap goes off behind me and I shriek and the crowd goes silent. I twist my head around to identify the noise and see Varius walking toward me, a vicious whip in hand.

I cannot help but stare at it. It's a nasty tool. Five strands of corded leather sprouting from a handle, each one twisted with jagged shards of metal along its length. I recall Justin explaining over dinner that he had designed something like the Cat O' Nine tails smaller cousin. It had been meant for use specifically for female actors since it didn't do quite as much damage. He had also bragged that it still hurt nearly as much.

"Strip her." Varius orders.

The soldiers gleefully obey and rough hands grip my dress and begins tearing it off of me. My face burns bright red as the fabric is torn away and I am left fully exposed before the crowd. The cheers are deafening as they rake my nude body with their stares. I look down in shame and as I catch sight of myself for a brief moment even I have to appreciate the handiwork that Justin has done in sculpting this figure.

I'm short, probably only a little over five feet. I’m thin, but my form still curves in a way that is almost too perfect. I can see wavy red hair at the edges of my vision. My arms and legs are perfectly shaped, and my physique almost reminds me of a swimmer. I have moderately-sized perky breasts with little pink nipples at the center and a flat unblemished belly that ends at a smooth hairless mound. My skin is flawless, and I could probably pass for a supermodel outside of the park.

Beauty that is just a bit beyond reality.

Then I remember the crowd. I remember the hundreds of eyes gazing at my naked body and I squeeze myself against the rough wooden post, trying to cover as much as myself from the crowd as the thin wooden pole allows. It's not much as both of my breasts poke out from either side of the post, but at least I can somewhat cover my sex by pressing it against the splintery wood.

"Now then, let's get started." Varius says.

I grit my teeth and brace myself against the post. Varius swings the whip with a practiced movement, and there is a sharp crack in the air and the corded lengths wrap around the post, just above my hands. There is a small pause as the shards of metal bite into the wood, and then a ripping sound as he pulls the whip back, slicing away splinters from the post with a ferocious tearing sound.

I scream instinctively. The crowd laughs at my terror. I stare at the damage to the wood with disbelief. The ugly scars he's slashed into the post. They’re deep. He's going to do that to me. To my-

The whip strikes my back. The impact is so hard that the air is knocked from my lungs and I struggle to breathe. The cords brutally cut across my flesh. My back, and shoulders are struck with blinding flashes of pain. I gasp at the sudden impact. I have never felt anything like it. My body shakes violently, but the ropes tying my wrists hold me in place. I have been terminally ill for ten years, but nothing from that experience compares to the intensity of this agony.

"You're lucky Princess! If we were punishing your father he'd be taking thirty nine lashes. You only have to take thirty." Varius taunts.

I don't reply. I can't. I’m trying to breathe. I'm focused on the burning fire across my back. This is already unbearable and I still have to endure twenty-nine more. I can’t do it. I-

Then the second strike slashes against my ass. Again, I scream and jerk against the ropes. Again the blinding pain. The crowd thinks it’s hilarious.

“Hit her in the ass again!” One woman screams.

Then Varius strikes me a third time.

Then a fourth.

Then a fifth.

Varius flogs me over and over again. He focuses on my back first then moves to areas that he knows will hurt most. My ass, my thighs, and, when I let my guard down, in between my legs. Each strike burns like a raging fire, and each strike causes the pain to build in intensity. My back becomes a chaotic pattern of bloody red stripes that burn with a fierce agony. Sweat erupts across my skin and the salty fluid enters into my wounds and only makes the burning worse.

The only thing I am aware of beyond the pain is the crowd. I am acutely aware of how I must look to them. A beautiful and naked young girl, tied to a pole, screaming and writhing. Jerking her body in an erotic and perverse dance. Pressing her sweaty figure against the wood and squirming against it as she wails in an unintelligible language. Legs jerking and breasts bouncing as I absorb each whip stroke. It's a scene that must be reminiscent of the bloodiest sex imaginable. The thought causes the pressure inside of me to rise.

The ninth strike wraps around my body and slashes into my breasts. I shake violently and scream. I try to tell myself that this isn't real. It's synthetic pain inside of a synthetic body. None of the burning wounds are happening to real flesh.

The tenth strikes my right leg and leaves behind bloody lash marks.

This pain is from artificial sensors.

The thirteenth strike hits my shoulders, and I feel fire run through me.

This isn't a real body.

The twenty-third strike bites into my ass. I feel a burning on my backside and an even deeper burning between my legs.

This isn't real.

The twenty-ninth strike lands across my lower back. I press my sweaty chest against the pole and scream. My entire body is ablaze.

It's not real…

Varius pulls back the whip for the thirtieth strike and then swings it up between my legs with savage force. The pain is overwhelming and I can feel darkness dancing at the edge of my vision.

The burning pressure that's been building up inside me suddenly erupts. The intense orgasm washes over my body, and the sudden pleasure mixed with the pain sends me reeling. But it doesn't drown out the agony. Instead the pain mixes with it and amplifies both sensations to an extreme.

I scream as the sensation rips through my body. I am not even aware of my own juices squirting against the pole and mixing with my blood.

The crowd is though.

"She just came!" someone yells.

As my senses return to me I realize that they’re right. My pussy is on fire, and it's not just from the beating. Shame overwhelms me and I begin sobbing in front of everyone.

Varius throws down the whip and strides over to me. I am hanging limply by my wrists, barely able to stand. He grips my hair and forces my head back. I am looking directly up at him.

"How did that feel princess? Did that feel good?"

I cannot think straight enough to form a coherent sentence. My thoughts stumble out of my mouth.

"N-not real." I gasp out.

"Not every day I can make a girl cum with a good flogging. Wow, you're bleeding a lot, but we can fix that."

Varius waves a steel rod in front of my face. Its flat tip is glowing orange from heat and I can feel the acrid warmth on my cheeks. What is he-

He presses the rod into my bloody back.

My vision goes white. I scream. My body involuntarily thrashes and struggles as much as my restraints will allow. Boiling sweat sprays off of my skin as I dance wildly, trying desperately to escape his grasp. My flayed skin is scalded and I can feel my blood boiling where the burning iron meets my flesh. The flogging had been the worst pain I’d ever felt, but this is a hundred times worse.

"That should stop the bleeding!" Varius yells out. The crowd laughs as if this was the funniest joke anyone has ever told. I continue to squirm and scream.

"Hold her still!" Varius commands to the soldiers. "We need to make sure she doesn’t bleed out before she reaches the cross."

The soldiers grab my legs and pull my body taut. Then Varius steps behind me and brings the brand down against my back again. And again. And again.

Each burn hurts worse than the last and the pain builds with each cauterized wound. Anywhere he's whipped me he also burns. I beg for him to stop in every way I know how, but no one understands me. Soon though I can’t form coherent words and I simply wail in agony with each press of the smoldering iron across raw nerves and bloody flesh.

The pain builds, but so does the burning pressure in my womanhood. In spite of the shame it brings me I try to focus on that, the only sensation besides agony and humiliation. It continues to build with each burn and my entire body feels like it is a smoldering furnace of pain and carnal thirst. He starts at my shoulders then my back, my ass, and my thighs are scorched. Then the soldiers flip me around and Varius holds the brand inches above my mons, right above my sex.

I stare at the orange tip. I can feel the heat radiating off of it. I’m breathing heavily. Tears stream down my face. I look at Varius and shake my head eyes wide. I begin begging, pleading.

“I’m not an actor! Please, you can’t-”

He pushes the brand against my skin. I finally feel release amongst the agony. I scream as loud as I can, putting everything I have into this cry. I wail until it feels like I am hollowed out and nothing remains of me except pain and a shriek through clenched teeth.

The guards let go of my legs. I collapse against the pillar and hang there, naked, drenched, beaten.

The crowd cheers. Varius smiles. I weep.

Varius stands over me in triumph.

"Disgusting whore. What kind of woman finds pleasure in punishment? It's a sign of her depravity. It's probably impossible for a whore like her to feel shame, but the Emperor ordered her humiliation. Let's go ahead and give it our best shot!"

 

[Blue]

This. Is very intense and a great read! Thanks for sharing, I’m looking forward to the next installment.

 

[Jacktrade]

Chapter 3: Deflowering​

The soldiers cut my hands free from the post and I weakly collapse onto the stage. My hands are tied tightly behind my back and then I am painfully lifted to my knees by my crimson hair.

Varius walks around me, surveying my body, and I can't help but do the same. The skin on my back is raw and blistered and the slightest movement causes pain, even breathing. The burning agony across my backside pulses with each heartbeat, and I do my best to keep my arms from brushing up against the raw mass of wounds that my back has become.

Varius kneels down to look at me and his fingers grip my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"You've been very well behaved thus far. I think you've earned a reward." he says.

I cannot help but shudder.

"Are you a virgin?" He asks.

I am. Being constantly hospitalized makes romance difficult, so I've never even had so much as a boyfriend. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of an answer, so I simply stare at him in terrified silence.

Varius stands and looks to the crowd.

"Well, doesn't look like she can answer the question. Roman law forbids the execution of a virgin, so I'm afraid we'll have to fuck her just to be safe!"

The crowd goes wild. They scream and shout for him to deflower me, and I can feel their lustful stares as they drink in my bloodied naked body. I have never seen so many excited men and I feel the burning pressure growing in my womanhood.

Varius grabs a handful of my hair and pulls me to my feet. A table is brought onstage and he forces me over it, bending me at the waist. Then his large hands grip my neck and he pushes me against the rough surface.

"Oh, I'm just going to hold you here little girl." Varius whispers into my ear. "Not that my cock isn't impressive, but because it might be your first time we need to make this special."

I watch helplessly as an actor steps onto the platform. He's huge. Tall and muscular with a square jaw, and I can see his erection straining his toga. He walks toward the table and strips down naked. I gasp audibly. His cock is monstrous. Impossibly big. Probably as long as my forearm and just as thick.

"This is Titus. He's just a soldier, but he's got the most impressive cock in my legion. You're going to take a lot of dicks today, but first Titus is going to break you in and open you up for the real fun."

Panic takes over. I don't want this. I can't let this happen.

I begin struggling, kicking, screaming. I will not let them rape me! Varius is surprised by my sudden outburst, and I just manage to twist free from under his grip. I pull myself off of the table and turn around ready to run.

Titus grabs my hair and punches me in the gut with enough force that my legs leave the ground. All of the air is knocked out of my chest. I try desperately to suck in oxygen, but my lungs aren't working correctly. My knees collapse and I am held aloft painfully by Titus's grip on my hair. I gasp in a pathetic attempt to breathe.

Then I am slammed face first against the table. I try to focus on breathing. Varius is saying something, but my ears are ringing and his voice sounds like I'm hearing him from underwater. Titus yanks my hair back and I am looking up at Varius. Someone is gripping my breast, holding it against the table. My eyes look down at what Varius is holding. There is a hammer in one hand and a large rusty nail in the other. Before I can even process what’s happening he presses the nail against my breast, a few inches above my nipple.

Clink! Clink! Clink!

The nail pierces through my tits and straight into the table. My breast feels like it's on fire. I try to scream, but I still can't breathe right. Varius grabs my other tit.

Clink! Clink! Clink!

My other teat gets pierced. I begin to struggle and writhe, but that only makes the nails tear against my flesh and makes the pain worse. Titus lets go of my hair and I crumple against the table, trying my best not to move and gasping for breath.

Titus takes his position behind me.

My lungs start to work again, and despite myself I begin begging. It comes out as a desperate whisper in Gaelic.

"Pl-please don't do this!" I sob out.

"Look, if you weren't going to hold still then we had to do something. Just think of this as a preview of what it'll feel like when the nails go in for real." Varius mocks.

Titus massive hands grip my hips and I feel the thick bulbous head press against my folds. I am already wet, but the sheer size prevents it from going in easily. Instead he rubs it up and down my slit, coating it in my fluids. Then he pushes harder.

I can feel the head forcing its way in and a sharp pain erupts as it begins splitting me apart. I grit my teeth, trying not to cry out. I can the crowd cheering and the sounds of their excitement causes the heat within me to grow.

Titus pulls his hips back and then slams forward again. This time he's able to force his way past the first inch and the sudden intrusion is too much.

"Stop! Stop!" I scream.

Titus doesn't stop. Instead he places his hand on the small of my back and shoves his hips forward again, forcing his cock another inch into me.

"It's too big!" I shriek. I'm fully panicking now.

I try to escape, but the nails piercing my tits tug me back to the table.

Titus pulls back and then slams forward again. Then a final shove. He forces the rest of his cock inside me. It savagely tears through my hymen and slams against my cervix. I wail at the pain.

Then he pulls back and slams forward again, and my knees go weak.

Over and over.

In and out.

Slowly.

Then faster.

My body rocks back and forth against the table. I am crying and moaning as the nails tear against my breasts. My cheeks flush bright red with humiliation as the crowd watches my violation. But the pressure inside of me continues to build with each violent thrust.

Titus' hands move from the small of my back up my shoulders. His large, powerful fingers dig into my shoulder blades and I scream as his fingernails scrape the burns and gashes across my back. Every muscle I have contracts as I shriek and desperately struggle to get away.

"Yes. Fuck her. Fuck her good." Varius encourages.

"Please stop." I whisper.

The crowd cheers.

"Please..." I cry out.

"Fuck her harder Titus!"

Titus fucks me harder.

I can't control it. The pain. The pleasure. The shame. I feel the orgasm building within me.

"Please." I sob. "... please"

I'm close. I can feel it.

"P-please." I gasp.

It's too much. I can't hold it in.

"AAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHH!"

I scream to the sky as the orgasm rips through my body. I wail in pleasure and the overwhelming humiliation of it all makes the experience more intense. The crowd roars their approval.

A few seconds later Titus thrusts himself deep into me and hot cum explodes inside of me. I can feel the hot jets of his seed shoot out, coating my insides. He pumps his hips a few times and then pulls his massive cock out. It's covered in blood. My blood.

I collapse against the table. Too weak to fight anymore. I sob quietly as I try to process what just happened. I was raped by an actor in front of a crowd. Had my virginity taken from me in the cruelest way possible.

No, not my virginity. It's not my body. This isn't happening to me.

Titus then seizes my hips again and terror runs through me. I feel nauseous.

"Well, that's one hole down." Varius says. "Now for the other one."

The crowd cheers as Titus positions himself against my asshole. I instinctively try to pull away, but the flesh in my tits begins to tear and I shriek and collapse back against the table.

He presses his cock against my ass. He proves the opening with his slick tip. Then, with a violent shove, he buries half of his length in me. It hurts. I can feel my asshole beginning to tear. I scream and try to relax my asshole, but it doesn’t make a difference. He's too big. There's no way. It's impossible. He's going to kill me.

Titus pulls back again and then shoves the entirety of his length inside of me. I hear an audible crack and a pain unlike any other erupts from deep within. Something inside of me has broken.

Despite everything the pressure builds within me and continues to build each time Titus slams himself deep inside of me. Titus pays no attention to my struggle. He pulls his hips back and then drives them into me relentlessly. With each thrust, I wail. Over and over. Back and forth. My breasts grind against the table. Each thrust hurts. Each time the pressure builds.

Then I am overwhelmed. It's a different orgasm this time. This one brings no pleasure. It's all pain. It’s like my core is being torn apart. I scream and writhe and kick, trying to escape. Titus grabs my ankles and holds them in place, and a moment later he cums filling my ass with his seed. I feel its sticky warmth in a place it shouldn't be. A moment later he pulls out and releases me to sprawl across the table.

I am shaking violently. My insides feel like they have been ripped apart and both holes between my legs ache. My breasts throb and I try to ignore the sickening sensation of the iron going through them. I am vaguely aware of the blood and cum making slowly trickling down my inner thighs.

"There, that wasn't so bad was it? Now though, this little slut has to clean up the mess she made!"

Titus positions himself in front of me and his huge cock stands rigid between his legs. It is coated in a mixture of my blood and his semen.

"I said clean it up." Varius snarls.

I don't resist. They'll hurt me more if I do. I just want this to be over. I hesitantly open my mouth.

"Not quite wide enough." Varius whispers.

Varius digs his fingernails into the open wounds on my back. I open my mouth to scream, and the second I do so, Titus rams his cock into my throat. I gag, but can't get it out. He begins fucking my mouth. Over and over. His cock forces itself down my throat. Each time I gag, and my eyes tear up.

The crowd is chanting now.

"Fuck her! Fuck her! Fuck her!"

Titus then begins thrusting deeper. My mouth is forced wide and Titus is pumping himself in and out. My body convulses and I try to struggle, but the nails keep me pinned to the table. He thrusts faster and faster until eventually he forces his cock as far down my throat as he will go. I gag and convulse, struggling desperately to breathe. I try to bite down, but find that my jaw won’t respond in the same way that Justin froze my body earlier. I cannot fight back.​

My nose is pressed up against Titus’s pubes, and his cock goes down my throat. I gag violently, but he holds my head there. With a grunt he pushes himself as deep as he can go, and his cock twitches and releases hot semen into my stomach.

Finally, he pulls out and his limp dick flops out of my mouth.

I cough and spit the hot sticky liquid onto the table. My body is trembling. My heart is racing. I press my legs together in a feeble attempt to protect myself.

The crowd cheers and Titus bows. Then he walks offstage and is gone.

Two more soldiers use pliers to rip the nails out of the table, but they leave them pierced inside of my breasts. They hurt so much. I beg them to take them out, but they ignore me. I doubt that they would even if they could understand me.

With the nails no longer holding me to the table I collapse into their arms. I am spent. I can feel my skin slick with blood and sweat. Blood and cum leak from my pussy and ass which both throb with a burning ache. Titus’s seed dribbles down my chin. My throat is so sore from screaming that breathing hurts. I have never felt more disgusting in my entire life. Two soldiers pull me up by the arms and display me for the crowd so that they can get a better look at my disgrace.

"This is supposed to be a princess?" Varius shouts to the crowd. "More like the princess of whores!"

The crowd laughs and jeers. I bite my lip and try not to cry.

"Well, even the princess of whores should have a crown. Good thing we've made one for her!"

A soldier steps onstage. He's carrying a ring of thorns, twisted into a crown like shape. I feel dread gather in the pit of my stomach.

"Hold her steady men." Varius instructs.

The two men holding my arms tighten their grip and Varius grips my jaws in both hands, making sure my head is completely still.

The soldier walks towards me and forces the crown of thorns on my head. There are long spikes and they cut into my flesh. I grit my teeth and wince. My eyes water and blood runs down my face.

Varius steps aside and lets the crowd have a good look at my naked humiliation.

I look out at the cheering crowd and reality crashes down on me. The agonizing wounds along my back, ass, and legs still burn. The deep pain in my groin still throbs. The blood and semen that drips out from inside of me and down my legs still makes me want to vomit. The shame and humiliation from being displayed completely naked with no clothing but a crown of thorns makes my cheeks burn bright red. It doesn't matter if this body is synthetic, or if my tormentors are actors.

This is all happening.

This is real.

 

[prtn]

This is a good story. An innovating concept! I was looking for something related to time travel but this also works! thanks for creating this fine piece!

 

[Jacktrade]

Chapter 4: March​

Something hard shoves me from behind and suddenly I am falling. Varius has pushed me off of the stage. My hands are tied, but my bare legs flail wildly. I land on my side and pain radiates through my shoulder. The twisted crown hits the ground and the thorns dig deeper into my skin. The crowd surrounds me and then begin spitting on me and beating me. I curl into a ball to protect myself.

The blows that land on my burned and bloodied back, ass, and legs hurt the most, and the lightning jolts of pain are a screaming reminder that this is happening. I'm not dreaming, the pain isn't artificial, and I am going to be crucified.

Fear and shock well up inside me and boil over into anger. The injustice of the situation and my rage at Justin for inflicting this on me consumes everything and makes the pain manageable. This isn’t fair. This isn’t right. I am not a helpless little girl, and I will not take this lying down.

The soldiers shove the crowd away, and force me up onto my knees. With ruthless efficiency, my arms are cut free only so that they can be tied to a wooden beam. I remember that this is customary for crucifixion. There are few things more humiliating than making your victim carry the instrument of their death to the execution site.

Pain explodes across my wounded shoulders as the patibulum is forced onto them. It's heavy. I buckle under the weight, but I grit my teeth and strain my back and legs. After a short struggle I am able to stand up fully, and I allow myself a small smile at the meager victory.

A whip cracks across my back. I stumble forward, and I clench my teeth, just barely managing to stifle a scream.

"March!" Varius commands.

I start walking forward, determined to prove that I can make it through this. Each footstep sends a wave of pain through my naked body, and stepping too hard causes my breasts to bounce and agitate the nails piercing through them. It hurts, but I’m not going to let myself collapse into a puddle of fear.

"Faster!" Varius demands and the whip cracks against my ass.

I increase my pace and the patibulum threatens to topple me, but the lashes spur me on.

"Faster, bitch!"

I walk as fast as I can, but It’s hard and the heavy chunk of wood I’m carrying threatens to topple me with every step. My muscles strain as I stumble forward. After a few more whip strikes against my ass I am able to find a pace that Varius is satisfied with, but the pace is too fast. I am breathing heavy and my lungs are already burning from the strain.

The soldiers lead me through the forum and the crowds there close in to get a better look. Men and women alike spit at me and reach out to grope my naked body as I travel by. They hurl insults and the soldiers around me laugh.

"That whore is struggling good!"

"Look at the slut’s tits jiggle!"

"Gods! That’s a lot of cum leaking from her royal holes!"

"That crown looks good on you bitch!"

I force myself forward, focused only on the path ahead. I pretend that their derision doesn't affect me. I try to distract myself by trying to distinguish between which insults come from guests and actors, but it's hard. They sound the same and blood and sweat cloud my vision. I can't tell the difference between a synthetic hand and a human one when it twists my nipples or gropes my ass. They both feel the same. They both hurt.

I desperately try to think of an escape. Some way to run or call for help, but my mind is too clouded by pain, humiliation, fear, and lust to even think coherently. I simply cling on to my anger and force myself forward one painful naked footstep at a time.

Time passes in a haze and I soon only become aware of the mocking crowd, my own exhaustion, and Varius’s whip when I walk too slowly. I am driven forward the hatred I feel for my brother. It eventually becomes my sole focus. I put my head down and simply mechanically put one foot in front of the other. I focus on my own ragged breathing and my hate for Justin with fierce intensity. Thinking about anything else feels like it would crush me.

I pass through the city, out the gates, and finally I am outside in the wilderness beyond the city walls. Varius gives the order to stop and I sink to my knees, gasping heavily, but grateful for the chance to catch my breath.

Two soldiers remove the cross from my back. I ignore them and simply try to fill my burning lungs with oxygen. My arms are free for the first time today. They automatically move to protect my most sensitive parts with one pressing against my nailed breasts and the other covering my sex.

"What's wrong princess? Feeling bashful? Not quite ready for your first crucifixion?" Varius asks.

I feel anger again and get ready to snap back at Varius. He won't understand me, but I don't care. I need him to know that I won't take this lying down.

I look up to scream defiantly at him, but the nightmarish scene shocks me to my core. Terror seizes me and fear rushes through my body like a torrent of freezing water. I forget whatever I was about to say.

We are standing at the bottom of a hill. A the top is a tall wooden pole, stretching toward the cloudy blue sky. The stipes on which I will be crucified. On either side are two more crosses each one with a naked girl nailed to them. Each one looks like they've been through a similar ordeal as me. Their backs are bloodied by whip marks, and there are splatters of semen across their face and between their legs. They hang by their wrists and feet which have been pierced by bloody iron nails. It's a truly brutal and terrifying sight.

I try to look away, but I realize I can't. I'm entranced as much as I'm horrified. Why can't I look away?

I take a good look at the girl on the right. She is a pretty girl with long black hair and tan skin. She looks Middle-Eastern. She has a round face with a button nose. Even after being beaten and raped her beauty shines through. If anything the cross enhances her beauty. Her skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and every muscle is pulled taut. The way she is nailed forces her arms out wide and her knees apart when she hangs from the wood. When she pushes on the nails in her feet her back arches and forces her small perky breasts and dark nipples to thrust out. Almost as if she's offering her nude body to the crowd. She constantly squirms, writhes, and squeals as if she were making love to the audience below her.

Or as if the cross was fucking her.

I tear my eyes away to look at the girl on the left. She's blonde with blue eyes and a tall slim figure. Probably German or Scandinavian. She's been crucified differently. Her cross is inverted with the crossbar at her feet. She has been nailed in an inverted 'Y', with her wrists nailed together to the crossbar and her feet spread wide and nailed to the horizontal post. Her legs are held apart by the cross, and she hangs, exposed and helpless. Every time she uses her feet to lift herself up she thrusts her hips out in an obscene display. Her screams sound like a twisted mix of pleasure and agony.

I recognize Justin's designs in the girls. The perfect lithe shape of his female actors that are so good at arousing attention. I know that they aren't real, but the agony looks real. The straining muscles, the sweat on their skin, and their pained moaning are all indistinguishable from the real thing. They are suffering the most excruciating death ever created. They are a mirror of what they will soon do to me, and all the fight I felt before leaves me. I feel fear and dread consume my body. I desperately do not want this.

"We didn't want you to die alone princess, so we got you some 'servants' for company." Varius says, interrupting my thoughts. "Just some whores that tried to steal from our governor. Don't worry, the men gave them what they deserved." Varius says. "What's wrong your highness? You look thirsty. Would you like a drink before we make you ascend your throne?"

Varius holds out a water skin and I nod meekly. I am parched and desperately need water, but more than that I don't want to be nailed to a cross. All thoughts of resistance crumble. Fear takes over. I'll play along with whatever as long as it delays those nails going through my wrist. I lean forward and gently part my lips.

The water doesn't come. Instead, Varius pulls the water out of my reach and grabs my hair. He drags me forward until I am at the base of the cross of the dark haired girl on the right. I notice that they didn't raise her far off the ground for her crucifixion. Her feet are nailed to the wood only about a foot above the dirt. My eyes travel up her long slender legs and I can see the trail of liquid, a mix of sweat, cum, piss, and blood coming from the folds of her sex.

Varius then pours some water on a sponge and then stuffs it into the poor girl's pussy. She gives a small whimper as it enters, and water begins to trickle down the inside of her thighs.

I lean forward to begin drinking from the sponge, but Varius kicks in-between my legs with shocking force and I collapse to my knees in agony.

"Not like that princess! You can’t just waste water like that. You have to start from the bottom, making sure that you don't miss a drop!" Varius screams. He then grabs my hair and shoves my face into the girl's dirty, bloodied feet to make sure I get the message.

The crowd snickers at my humiliation.

I submissively lean forward and begin licking at the girl's toes. No, the actor's toes. These aren't real people, and I'm not really participating in their humiliation. Only my own.

She moans softly as my tongue runs across her bloody and bruised soles. I lick around the nails that pierce her flesh. She whimpers as I suck at the bloody marks all around the wounds. The taste of her blood is salty and metallic, just like a person's.

I travel up her leg. I suck the sweat off of her calves and lick the clean the insides of her thighs. I go slowly, savoring the taste of her sweat and blood. My stomach turns. My tongue laps at the cum and piss that stains her skin. I want to vomit, but I keep going. I move closer and closer to the sponge. It's wet and the liquid drips out from between her legs and down her thigh. I follow the drops as they roll down her body and lick them up, sucking and kissing at her flesh. She's moaning loudly now.

I wrap my lips around the sponge and I pop it into my mouth. I suck it, and I nearly vomit. The taste of urine coats my throat. Despite everything, the liquid still manages to slake a bit of my thirst.

"Good girl. Now, drink it all." Varius says.

I bite the sponge between my teeth and pull it out of the girl, and then I press my lips against the girl's sex. She's squealing now. I begin to ravenously suck out the remaining liquid. She's wet. I suck and lap at her pussy and even though it must be painful, she's writhing on the cross. I push my tongue between her folds and suck furiously. The girl bucks her hips and shrieks as I eat her out. Then she gives a pathetic cry and squirts on my face.

I blink and finally step back. She's screaming and jerking wildly, and I cannot help but stare at her orgasmic writhing dance while stretched out by the excruciating grip of the nails. It's the most erotic and horrifying thing I've ever seen.

My observation is cut short when Varius yanks me back by my hair.

"Well done!" Varius says. I can barely hear him over the sound of the lustful cheers of the crowd.

He throws me to the ground, and I fall face first into the dirt. My pierced tits hit the rough ground first, and I squeal in agony.

"Get over here and get your next drink!" Varius mocks. He is already standing at the base of the other cross, stuffing another sponge between the girl's spread legs.

I obey and crawl over. I can still hear the squealing gasps of the girl behind me.

I arrive and I hesitate. I don't want to do this again.

Varius sees the reluctance in my eyes and leans down close.

"You can get your next drink, or we can nail you in now. Your choice little girl."

I don't want to be nailed. I crawl over to the other cross and begin repeating the same process, slowly licking around the blonde girl's feet. She shifts uncomfortably on the cross as my tongue probes the nail wounds and she then begins pleading with me in a language I do not recognize. I ignore her. She's just another actor.

I hear the crack of the whip and pain flashes across my back. I scream and stagger.

Varius's calloused meaty hands clamp down on my neck and he pulls my face inches from his.

"You don't look very thirsty. If you want to continue drinking, you're going to need to show more enthusiasm."

He snaps his teeth open and shut so that they make an audible cracking noise. I understand immediately.

He releases me and I want to cry. It's not enough that I have to sexually abuse another girl, naked, in front of a crowd, but I now have to show enthusiasm while I do it.

The injustice of it all sparks anger again, and I latch onto it like a drowning woman clutching at a piece of driftwood. It’s something that I can hold onto. Something that makes me feel strong and defiant. They want a show? I'll give them a show.

I lean forward again and begin licking and sucking at the actor's skin with voracious thirst. I ignore the screaming pain in my back every time I bend over, and focus only on sliding my tongue over the sweaty skin with as much vigor as I can. Then I bite down on her toes hard enough to draw blood. She squeals and writhes and begins babbling in a language I do not recognize.

I ignore her and work my way up past her knees and begin sucking the inside of her thighs. Then I bite again. Gently at first and then growing harder and harder as I work my way up her legs.

She begins to dance as the other girl did at the touch of my tongue, but her movements are more animalistic. A primal instinct to try to jerk away from the pain. She jumps and squeals every time I bite into her flesh. She continues to jabber in another language, but I don't need to know the words to know what she's saying. I know she's pleading for me to stop. I don't.

I reach the sponge and I don't even bother sucking out the vile liquid. I rip it out with my teeth and begin sucking and licking at the girl's dripping wet pussy. She shrieks as I devour her and the crowd roars in approval. I bite and suck at the lips of her sex and she writhes and screams, but is unable to get away. I go faster and become more aggressive, biting hard enough to draw blood. Then I find her clit with my tongue and pinch it between my teeth. I bite down. Hard.

She comes, bucking and wailing as if she is having the most violent, painful, and intense orgasm in the world. She probably is. Her girl juices spray across my face, and her screams ring in my ears. The crowd cheers. I collapse to my knees. The girl on the cross sobs. Varius laughs.

I realize that my body feels hot. I feel myself getting wet. My heart is beating too fast. I enjoyed this. This turned me on.

I close my eyes and try to shut out the sound of the poor girl in humiliating anguish writhing naked in front of me. My anger evaporates and guilt begins to creep in.

She's just an actor. A machine. Ones and zeros. This isn't a real person.

Varius grabs me by my hair again and pulls me away from the screaming girl.

"Good. Very good. Have you had enough to drink? I think you are finally ready."

I can only shake my head. Terror replaces every emotion I have. I don't want this. I'm not ready. I don't want to die like this.

"Too bad. Get up and let's start the main attraction."

He yanks me up and drags me toward the waiting crossbeam.

 

[Blue]

This is really great! Thanks for sharing.

 

[Iconoclast12]

This is incredibly well-written.

 

[Jacktrade]

Chapter 5: Nailing​

"Hold her down." Varius commands.

Two large soldiers grab me and force me against the crossbeam. My ruined back scrapes against the dirt and I stifle a cry of pain. They grip my arms and force them out in a 'Y' shape, pushing my wrists against the rough wood, and pinning me in place.

I look around, terrified.

The guards are smiling at me, in gleeful anticipation of the pain they're about to inflict on my helpless figure. The two girls dance on their crosses above me in a cruel foreshadowing of the torture I am about to experience. The crowd around me stare at my naked form and are murmuring excitedly in anticipation. I notice that their gazes are concentrated on my womanhood between my splayed legs. I sheepishly press my knees together in a pathetic attempt to salvage some modesty.

"Hold her steady." Varius orders.

The soldiers tighten the grip.

Varius kneels next to me. His hard muscled body is slick with sweat and his hands are wet with blood. My blood. He pulls a small hammer out from his belt. It's not one of the modern kind, it's a wooden shaft attached to an ugly heavy block of cast iron.

He grips one of the nails in my breast and rips it out. It hurts as much being ripped out as when it was hammered in. I shriek and squirm, trying to break free from the soldiers who pin me in place, but it's useless. My small naked body is nothing against the much bigger and stronger men.

Varius holds up the nail so that the crowd can see it, and they roar in anticipation.

He bends down and lowers the nail over the center of my right wrist and places the tip of it against my skin. The iron feels icy against the hot sweat covering my body. The nail is even uglier than the hammer. A rusty and jagged piece of iron with a wicked sharp tip.

"This is going to hurt so much princess."

I feel the sharp tip push into my wrist. My heart beats furiously. Varius raises the hammer. I can't look away.

Clink!

The hammer smashes against the nail and my world goes white. The pain is beyond comprehension. Agony rushes through my arm and explodes in my brain. I feel the nail ripping through my flesh and grinding against the bones in my wrist in exquisite detail.

My scream echoes across the park and my body thrashes in a desperate attempt to get away. The soldiers press harder and pin me in place, and the cheering screams of the crowd drown out my cry.

Clink!

The hammer strikes again and the nail gouges deeper into my wrist. Iron grinds against bone and blood splatters across my arm. I arch my back as far as it can go and spread my legs as wide as they can. Any thought of decency is lost beneath the overwhelming agony of the nailing.

Clink!

Again, and again, the hammer pounds the nail deeper and deeper into my flesh. With every blow, the iron sinks into me a little further and the agony intensifies. When the hammer hits the iron for the last time, the pain reaches a peak. A searing, mind-shattering, indescribable agony that overwhelms any ability I have to think or speak coherently. My wrist is securely pinned to the wood by the most gruesome and painful means imaginable.

The pain stops increasing but it doesn't recede. It remains at a fever pitch. Any movement causes flesh and bone to grind against the steel piercing my flesh, so I force myself to stay still. I manage to reduce my screaming to a whimper. I try to relax my body, but every part of me trembles uncontrollably. I force my mind to take stock of the situation just so I can focus on something, anything, other than the excruciating pain in my wrist.

The crowd is cheering. They love the sight of my lithe naked body being tortured. I feel a warm wetness in my privates, and I realize I have pissed myself. I close my legs in shame. The crowd laughs. I begin to cry. The crowd laughs harder.

Varius rips the nail out of my other breast and I scream, but I force myself not to move. The slightest movement sends twinges of fire up my arm.

The nail is placed against my left wrist and I begin to panic. How am I going to keep still when this nail goes in? What-

Clink!

My world begins white fire again and any thought I had of not struggling is wiped away in a blaze of agony. The pain is even worse. I scream and struggle and arch my back in a desperate attempt to get away, but every movement pulls on the nail already piercing my wrist.

The hammering continues, and I can do nothing but scream and thrash against the soldiers who are holding me. I scream so loud that my voice cracks and I taste blood in my throat.

Finally, the nail sinks in as far as it will go. I stop screaming and I simply lay there gasping. The crowd is cheering in pleasure at my torture, but I'm so lost in a fog of agony that their voices seem far away and insignificant.

"Raise her." Varius orders.

Somewhere behind me a soldier pulls on a rope. The crossbar drags through the dirt and toward the stipes. I shriek and awkwardly try to use my legs to alleviate the pressure as I am dragged by the nails backward over the gravel. I thrash wildly as my ruined back is lacerated by the rocky ground. Then the crossbeam hits the stipes and the rope begins to carry it upward. I am lifted off the ground by my nailed wrists and my entire body is painfully dragged upwards. Every little movement of the nails rubbing against my bones sends shockwaves of pain through my arms. I flail my legs desperately and finally manage to get them underneath me. The beam continues to rise and I am on my tip toes. I haven't even left the ground, and the pressure on my arms is already unbearable.

It’s not just the pain. There is an overwhelming sensation of wrongness. My body has been penetrated in a way it was never meant to. I feel waves of nausea course through me and I retch up clear bile onto the ground.

Panic overwhelms me. I begin screaming for mercy even though I know none will come.

"Please, stop! It hurts! I'll do anything! Please!"

Then to my shock the crossbar stops rising. My toes find purchase and alleviate the awful strain on my wrists.

Varius steps in front of me and leans in close.

"Not ready to ascend your throne? What? Are you that much of a slut? Was being fucked by Titus not enough for you little girl? Do you want more?"

As he says this he makes an obscene gesture with his hands. Even without words, his question is obvious.

He’s going to rape me. I don’t care. They’ve already taken my virginity. It can’t be worse than hanging from the nails.

I meekly nod.

Varius spins around and begins addressing the crowd. "The princess of whores has decided that Titus's cock wasn't enough for her! Does anyone else want to volunteer to fuck this girl?" he yells out.

Dozens of men raise their hands and step forward. The crossbar is lowered back to the ground and I wince as my bare back is pressed against the rocks and dirt. I close my eyes and gasp in relief as the nails don’t support my weight anymore.

When I look up I am surrounded by at least two dozen men towering over me, half of them with their cocks already out. I suddenly feel very small and very afraid. Two of them grab my ankles and spread them. A third positions himself between my legs. He has his cock in his hand and is stroking it.

"I can't believe the barbarian king's daughter is such a dirty slut. Let's show her how we fuck whores here in Rome!" the man yells.

The cock presses against my sex and I clench my teeth at the pain. My insides are incredibly tender from when Titus tore them. Even just this light pressing hurts. Then he pushes harder. There is a sickening wet sound as he shoves his dick completely inside me. It's huge. Not as big as Titus, but it fills me completely. I wail like a wounded animal. The man smiles at my reaction. Then he begins grunting and vigorously thrusting into me, his hips smacking against mine and his member sliding deep inside.

It hurts. His cock is too big and his thrusts are too violent. The rough ground scrapes against my back and the man's hands start squeezing my wounded breasts. I don't want this. I never wanted any of this. I try to struggle and push the man off me, but the nails send a shockwave of pain through my body and I am reminded to keep myself as still as possible.

His thrusts become harder and faster and the pain increases as he becomes rougher with each thrust. His cock begins to twitch inside of me and I realize that he is close. I can hear the cheers of the crowd and the man's grunts. His cock swells and then it throbs and I feel his warm cum filling me.

"That's how you treat a dirty whore." the man says as he pulls out of me.

I feel a burning pressure in my core and I realize with horror that my body is reacting to this. Enjoying this.

He stands and pulls up his tunic. He spits in my face and walks away, and the humiliation sends a jolt of pleasure through me. Another man immediately takes his place and I feel another cock press against my entrance. The second man is smaller and the penetration doesn't hurt as much, but he makes up for it with his vigor. He enthusiastically thrusts himself inside of me with the energy of a machine. Distantly I wonder if he is one.

His thrusts gradually get faster and faster and my own pressure builds up inside. Then he leans forward, grabs my wrists, and presses them down. They begin to tear against the nails and I shriek as every muscle I have seizes up in pain. Hot cum fills my womb and my juices spray from my sex. I shriek in a perverted mix of agony and pleasure. He stands up and spits on me, just like the previous rapist. My cheeks blush burning red where the spittle lands.

As the next one in line steps up the one who just spit on me grabs his shoulder and leans in to whisper to him.

"Hey, she gets a lot tighter when you press on the nails. Makes it feel so much better." He says.

The next man jumps on me and takes his advice to heart. He presses on the nails constantly while he rapes me, and I scream constantly. When he is done he spits on me.

The next man wants to try this but without all the screaming, and learns that he can quiet me down by having someone else choke me so that I can't breathe properly. The one after that wants more movement when he fucks me so he has the men holding my ankles borrow Varius’s whip. One of them gets creative and lights a torch. They lacerate and scorch my feet until I struggle and writhe to their satisfaction.

It continues on and on like this, each man adding a new torture or humiliation to make my rape more entertaining. I lose track of time and how many times I orgasm. It doesn't matter. All that matters is the pain and the carnal sensations that rip through my body. My feet are covered in burns and gashes. My back is scraped raw. I am dripping cum and sweat and my own squirting juices. Every man who uses me presses on my nailed wrists and spits on me.

And then the last man finishes inside of me and I'm alone. They have all had their way with me and have walked off. Some of them are laughing and talking excitedly. Others are simply wiping my blood off their cocks.

I'm crying again. The tears fall down my cheeks and mix with the dirt and semen caked onto my face. I can feel the cum dripping out of me and pooling on the ground beneath me. My throat is raw and bloody.

"You look good princess. Looks like you enjoyed that. Do you like being our dirty little fucktoy?" Varius asks.

I shake my head. I don't have the strength to say no.

"Well, you've had your fun. Now it's time for you to ascend."

My heart starts pounding. I feel absolute terror. I begin begging.

"No! Please! I'll fuck more people! I'll take it anywhere, just please don't-"

He gives a signal and the crossbeam starts to rise.

As they pull the weight of my entire body is again suspended by the nails piercing my wrists. Lightning strikes of pain sear down my arms and through my lithe girlish body. My feet leave the ground, and I rise up on the cross until the nails are supporting my full bodyweight.

It's too much. Too painful. The agony is indescribable. My back is arched and my legs kick helplessly in an effort to find some way to support my weight. My toes swing helplessly above the ground. I am shaking violently and tears are flowing freely down my cheeks. The pain is so overwhelming that I can't even scream. I just open my mouth wide and take in shaky gasping breaths.

The crossbeam stops rising and a soldier hammers it into place above my head. I hang there suspended and my feet kick wildly to find purchase. The soldiers grab my ankles and place my feet flat against the stipes. They are tied there with ropes and I straighten my legs, desperately relieved to have any support at all.

Then Varius approaches my feet and my relief vanishes. He is holding another spike, this one even bigger than the ones in my wrist.

He presses the tip against the top of my foot.

I shriek, "Please! No!"

He raises his hammer and brings it down hard.

Clink!

Iron pierces through flesh and shatters bone. I scream and thrash wildly. My body twists and turns as it struggles to escape the nails, but every movement sends a searing wave of pain through my arms.

Clink!

The nail tears through my foot and sinks into the wood. I howl and thrash as my entire body is held immobile by the three points of excruciating agony. I try to shift all of my bodyweight to the one foot that hasn't been nailed.

Then Varius places the nail against that foot and raises his hammer.

Clink!

The nail sinks in and my last safe support is destroyed.

Clink!

The hammer strikes several more time until the head of the nail presses against the top of my foot, and now I am pinned to the cross at four points. I am crucified.

I am screaming wildly. The pain is beyond comprehension. There is a stabbing in my wrists from where the nails pierce them and a sharp aching in my feet from where they have crushed through small bones. They pulsate wildly in a deep agony that throbs with each beat of my heart. The nauseating feeling of metal buried deep within my tendons, nerves, and bones. Iron violating my flesh.

The pain doesn't recede or lessen. If anything it gets worse. The agony becomes so great that it overwhelms any ability I have to think. My vision goes white and all I can feel is pain. The screams of the crowd are a distant hum and the hot sun beating down on my naked and bloodied form is an insensible feeling.

I can't remember where I am. Who I am.

In frustrated agony I react on a primal level. I begin screaming and thrashing, dancing a perverse dance upon the cross. My toes and fingers curl, and I jerk my limbs as far as they can go. Each movement sends burning shockwaves through my body. It only makes the pain worse, but in my delirious anguish soaked mind I don't care. I need escape. Relief. Anything.

Any thought of decency is lost. I shake my head wildly and my red hair flies about like flames. I work my legs frantically, thrusting my hips out and back up again while simultaneously trying not lose balance. Each slip sends new waves of hurt rippling across my tortured figure. My breasts bounce up and down with each movement, and everyone watches avidly. I dance madly not caring who sees my naked torment.

I don't know how long this lasts, but eventually my exhausted body settles down and just hang limply from the nails, my mind finally accepting that there is no escape.

I look down at the crowd of actors and guests and see the joy and excitement in their eyes. This is their entertainment. The thought sickens me. I wonder what my friends would think of this? Would they laugh at the sight of my naked and beaten form nailed to a cross?

I look down at my thin naked body, stretched out on the wood. My breasts are bruised from being fondled, the area round the nipples have bloody wounds from the nails that pierced them. There are welts, cuts, burns, and bruises covering my back, but my front is largely intact. Perfect pale skin glistening with sweat. The exceptions being the wounds around my breasts and my womanhood, their red color drawing attention to my most sensitive places. My face is coated in a layer of sweat, blood, tears, and cum. I look at my feet and see the nails protruding from the tops. Blood and white sticky seed leak from my sex.

I am a mess. The crowd cheers at the sight of my lithe and bloody figure.

This is my first taste of real helplessness. I can't get down. I can't run. I can't hide. I can't fight. The pain is so overwhelming that I can barely even think, let alone move.

All I can do is hang on the cross and wait for the pain to end.

All I can do is wait to die.

 

[FritzS]

Oh, damn, that was a wonderful story.

 

[RedOrc]

Plot twists: As in Westworld the actors' bodies are designed to be easily repaired. Our heroine wakes up the next day ready to play again.

Justin does this all the time. The other two girls are also human, maybe in original bodies so they will just die. Maybe Justin did not want to risk his sister dying during the transfer so he tested it on a couple of ex-girlfriends first. They could be potential allies, or enemies!

When the Robot Revolution arrives (and it will), our heroine reluctantly finds herself on the robot side. Will she remain loyal to her original species, or come to develop a taste for torturing squishy humans? Better to be on the winning side, I always say. Will the actors ever find out she is not one of them?

 

[Blue]

Chapter 5: Nailing​

"Hold her down." Varius commands.

Two large soldiers grab me and force me against the crossbeam. My ruined back scrapes against the dirt and I stifle a cry of pain. They grip my arms and force them out in a 'Y' shape, pushing my wrists against the rough wood, and pinning me in place.

I look around, terrified.

The guards are smiling at me, in gleeful anticipation of the pain they're about to inflict on my helpless figure. The two girls dance on their crosses above me in a cruel foreshadowing of the torture I am about to experience. The crowd around me stare at my naked form and are murmuring excitedly in anticipation. I notice that their gazes are concentrated on my womanhood between my splayed legs. I sheepishly press my knees together in a pathetic attempt to salvage some modesty.

"Hold her steady." Varius orders.

The soldiers tighten the grip.

Varius kneels next to me. His hard muscled body is slick with sweat and his hands are wet with blood. My blood. He pulls a small hammer out from his belt. It's not one of the modern kind, it's a wooden shaft attached to an ugly heavy block of cast iron.

He grips one of the nails in my breast and rips it out. It hurts as much being ripped out as when it was hammered in. I shriek and squirm, trying to break free from the soldiers who pin me in place, but it's useless. My small naked body is nothing against the much bigger and stronger men.

Varius holds up the nail so that the crowd can see it, and they roar in anticipation.

He bends down and lowers the nail over the center of my right wrist and places the tip of it against my skin. The iron feels icy against the hot sweat covering my body. The nail is even uglier than the hammer. A rusty and jagged piece of iron with a wicked sharp tip.

"This is going to hurt so much princess."

I feel the sharp tip push into my wrist. My heart beats furiously. Varius raises the hammer. I can't look away.

Clink!

The hammer smashes against the nail and my world goes white. The pain is beyond comprehension. Agony rushes through my arm and explodes in my brain. I feel the nail ripping through my flesh and grinding against the bones in my wrist in exquisite detail.

My scream echoes across the park and my body thrashes in a desperate attempt to get away. The soldiers press harder and pin me in place, and the cheering screams of the crowd drown out my cry.

Clink!

The hammer strikes again and the nail gouges deeper into my wrist. Iron grinds against bone and blood splatters across my arm. I arch my back as far as it can go and spread my legs as wide as they can. Any thought of decency is lost beneath the overwhelming agony of the nailing.

Clink!

Again, and again, the hammer pounds the nail deeper and deeper into my flesh. With every blow, the iron sinks into me a little further and the agony intensifies. When the hammer hits the iron for the last time, the pain reaches a peak. A searing, mind-shattering, indescribable agony that overwhelms any ability I have to think or speak coherently. My wrist is securely pinned to the wood by the most gruesome and painful means imaginable.

The pain stops increasing but it doesn't recede. It remains at a fever pitch. Any movement causes flesh and bone to grind against the steel piercing my flesh, so I force myself to stay still. I manage to reduce my screaming to a whimper. I try to relax my body, but every part of me trembles uncontrollably. I force my mind to take stock of the situation just so I can focus on something, anything, other than the excruciating pain in my wrist.

The crowd is cheering. They love the sight of my lithe naked body being tortured. I feel a warm wetness in my privates, and I realize I have pissed myself. I close my legs in shame. The crowd laughs. I begin to cry. The crowd laughs harder.

Varius rips the nail out of my other breast and I scream, but I force myself not to move. The slightest movement sends twinges of fire up my arm.

The nail is placed against my left wrist and I begin to panic. How am I going to keep still when this nail goes in? What-

Clink!

My world begins white fire again and any thought I had of not struggling is wiped away in a blaze of agony. The pain is even worse. I scream and struggle and arch my back in a desperate attempt to get away, but every movement pulls on the nail already piercing my wrist.

The hammering continues, and I can do nothing but scream and thrash against the soldiers who are holding me. I scream so loud that my voice cracks and I taste blood in my throat.

Finally, the nail sinks in as far as it will go. I stop screaming and I simply lay there gasping. The crowd is cheering in pleasure at my torture, but I'm so lost in a fog of agony that their voices seem far away and insignificant.

"Raise her." Varius orders.

Somewhere behind me a soldier pulls on a rope. The crossbar drags through the dirt and toward the stipes. I shriek and awkwardly try to use my legs to alleviate the pressure as I am dragged by the nails backward over the gravel. I thrash wildly as my ruined back is lacerated by the rocky ground. Then the crossbeam hits the stipes and the rope begins to carry it upward. I am lifted off the ground by my nailed wrists and my entire body is painfully dragged upwards. Every little movement of the nails rubbing against my bones sends shockwaves of pain through my arms. I flail my legs desperately and finally manage to get them underneath me. The beam continues to rise and I am on my tip toes. I haven't even left the ground, and the pressure on my arms is already unbearable.

It’s not just the pain. There is an overwhelming sensation of wrongness. My body has been penetrated in a way it was never meant to. I feel waves of nausea course through me and I retch up clear bile onto the ground.

Panic overwhelms me. I begin screaming for mercy even though I know none will come.

"Please, stop! It hurts! I'll do anything! Please!"

Then to my shock the crossbar stops rising. My toes find purchase and alleviate the awful strain on my wrists.

Varius steps in front of me and leans in close.

"Not ready to ascend your throne? What? Are you that much of a slut? Was being fucked by Titus not enough for you little girl? Do you want more?"

As he says this he makes an obscene gesture with his hands. Even without words, his question is obvious.

He’s going to rape me. I don’t care. They’ve already taken my virginity. It can’t be worse than hanging from the nails.

I meekly nod.

Varius spins around and begins addressing the crowd. "The princess of whores has decided that Titus's cock wasn't enough for her! Does anyone else want to volunteer to fuck this girl?" he yells out.

Dozens of men raise their hands and step forward. The crossbar is lowered back to the ground and I wince as my bare back is pressed against the rocks and dirt. I close my eyes and gasp in relief as the nails don’t support my weight anymore.

When I look up I am surrounded by at least two dozen men towering over me, half of them with their cocks already out. I suddenly feel very small and very afraid. Two of them grab my ankles and spread them. A third positions himself between my legs. He has his cock in his hand and is stroking it.

"I can't believe the barbarian king's daughter is such a dirty slut. Let's show her how we fuck whores here in Rome!" the man yells.

The cock presses against my sex and I clench my teeth at the pain. My insides are incredibly tender from when Titus tore them. Even just this light pressing hurts. Then he pushes harder. There is a sickening wet sound as he shoves his dick completely inside me. It's huge. Not as big as Titus, but it fills me completely. I wail like a wounded animal. The man smiles at my reaction. Then he begins grunting and vigorously thrusting into me, his hips smacking against mine and his member sliding deep inside.

It hurts. His cock is too big and his thrusts are too violent. The rough ground scrapes against my back and the man's hands start squeezing my wounded breasts. I don't want this. I never wanted any of this. I try to struggle and push the man off me, but the nails send a shockwave of pain through my body and I am reminded to keep myself as still as possible.

His thrusts become harder and faster and the pain increases as he becomes rougher with each thrust. His cock begins to twitch inside of me and I realize that he is close. I can hear the cheers of the crowd and the man's grunts. His cock swells and then it throbs and I feel his warm cum filling me.

"That's how you treat a dirty whore." the man says as he pulls out of me.

I feel a burning pressure in my core and I realize with horror that my body is reacting to this. Enjoying this.

He stands and pulls up his tunic. He spits in my face and walks away, and the humiliation sends a jolt of pleasure through me. Another man immediately takes his place and I feel another cock press against my entrance. The second man is smaller and the penetration doesn't hurt as much, but he makes up for it with his vigor. He enthusiastically thrusts himself inside of me with the energy of a machine. Distantly I wonder if he is one.

His thrusts gradually get faster and faster and my own pressure builds up inside. Then he leans forward, grabs my wrists, and presses them down. They begin to tear against the nails and I shriek as every muscle I have seizes up in pain. Hot cum fills my womb and my juices spray from my sex. I shriek in a perverted mix of agony and pleasure. He stands up and spits on me, just like the previous rapist. My cheeks blush burning red where the spittle lands.

As the next one in line steps up the one who just spit on me grabs his shoulder and leans in to whisper to him.

"Hey, she gets a lot tighter when you press on the nails. Makes it feel so much better." He says.

The next man jumps on me and takes his advice to heart. He presses on the nails constantly while he rapes me, and I scream constantly. When he is done he spits on me.

The next man wants to try this but without all the screaming, and learns that he can quiet me down by having someone else choke me so that I can't breathe properly. The one after that wants more movement when he fucks me so he has the men holding my ankles borrow Varius’s whip. One of them gets creative and lights a torch. They lacerate and scorch my feet until I struggle and writhe to their satisfaction.

It continues on and on like this, each man adding a new torture or humiliation to make my rape more entertaining. I lose track of time and how many times I orgasm. It doesn't matter. All that matters is the pain and the carnal sensations that rip through my body. My feet are covered in burns and gashes. My back is scraped raw. I am dripping cum and sweat and my own squirting juices. Every man who uses me presses on my nailed wrists and spits on me.

And then the last man finishes inside of me and I'm alone. They have all had their way with me and have walked off. Some of them are laughing and talking excitedly. Others are simply wiping my blood off their cocks.

I'm crying again. The tears fall down my cheeks and mix with the dirt and semen caked onto my face. I can feel the cum dripping out of me and pooling on the ground beneath me. My throat is raw and bloody.

"You look good princess. Looks like you enjoyed that. Do you like being our dirty little fucktoy?" Varius asks.

I shake my head. I don't have the strength to say no.

"Well, you've had your fun. Now it's time for you to ascend."

My heart starts pounding. I feel absolute terror. I begin begging.

"No! Please! I'll fuck more people! I'll take it anywhere, just please don't-"

He gives a signal and the crossbeam starts to rise.

As they pull the weight of my entire body is again suspended by the nails piercing my wrists. Lightning strikes of pain sear down my arms and through my lithe girlish body. My feet leave the ground, and I rise up on the cross until the nails are supporting my full bodyweight.

It's too much. Too painful. The agony is indescribable. My back is arched and my legs kick helplessly in an effort to find some way to support my weight. My toes swing helplessly above the ground. I am shaking violently and tears are flowing freely down my cheeks. The pain is so overwhelming that I can't even scream. I just open my mouth wide and take in shaky gasping breaths.

The crossbeam stops rising and a soldier hammers it into place above my head. I hang there suspended and my feet kick wildly to find purchase. The soldiers grab my ankles and place my feet flat against the stipes. They are tied there with ropes and I straighten my legs, desperately relieved to have any support at all.

Then Varius approaches my feet and my relief vanishes. He is holding another spike, this one even bigger than the ones in my wrist.

He presses the tip against the top of my foot.

I shriek, "Please! No!"

He raises his hammer and brings it down hard.

Clink!

Iron pierces through flesh and shatters bone. I scream and thrash wildly. My body twists and turns as it struggles to escape the nails, but every movement sends a searing wave of pain through my arms.

Clink!

The nail tears through my foot and sinks into the wood. I howl and thrash as my entire body is held immobile by the three points of excruciating agony. I try to shift all of my bodyweight to the one foot that hasn't been nailed.

Then Varius places the nail against that foot and raises his hammer.

Clink!

The nail sinks in and my last safe support is destroyed.

Clink!

The hammer strikes several more time until the head of the nail presses against the top of my foot, and now I am pinned to the cross at four points. I am crucified.

I am screaming wildly. The pain is beyond comprehension. There is a stabbing in my wrists from where the nails pierce them and a sharp aching in my feet from where they have crushed through small bones. They pulsate wildly in a deep agony that throbs with each beat of my heart. The nauseating feeling of metal buried deep within my tendons, nerves, and bones. Iron violating my flesh.

The pain doesn't recede or lessen. If anything it gets worse. The agony becomes so great that it overwhelms any ability I have to think. My vision goes white and all I can feel is pain. The screams of the crowd are a distant hum and the hot sun beating down on my naked and bloodied form is an insensible feeling.

I can't remember where I am. Who I am.

In frustrated agony I react on a primal level. I begin screaming and thrashing, dancing a perverse dance upon the cross. My toes and fingers curl, and I jerk my limbs as far as they can go. Each movement sends burning shockwaves through my body. It only makes the pain worse, but in my delirious anguish soaked mind I don't care. I need escape. Relief. Anything.

Any thought of decency is lost. I shake my head wildly and my red hair flies about like flames. I work my legs frantically, thrusting my hips out and back up again while simultaneously trying not lose balance. Each slip sends new waves of hurt rippling across my tortured figure. My breasts bounce up and down with each movement, and everyone watches avidly. I dance madly not caring who sees my naked torment.

I don't know how long this lasts, but eventually my exhausted body settles down and just hang limply from the nails, my mind finally accepting that there is no escape.

I look down at the crowd of actors and guests and see the joy and excitement in their eyes. This is their entertainment. The thought sickens me. I wonder what my friends would think of this? Would they laugh at the sight of my naked and beaten form nailed to a cross?

I look down at my thin naked body, stretched out on the wood. My breasts are bruised from being fondled, the area round the nipples have bloody wounds from the nails that pierced them. There are welts, cuts, burns, and bruises covering my back, but my front is largely intact. Perfect pale skin glistening with sweat. The exceptions being the wounds around my breasts and my womanhood, their red color drawing attention to my most sensitive places. My face is coated in a layer of sweat, blood, tears, and cum. I look at my feet and see the nails protruding from the tops. Blood and white sticky seed leak from my sex.

I am a mess. The crowd cheers at the sight of my lithe and bloody figure.

This is my first taste of real helplessness. I can't get down. I can't run. I can't hide. I can't fight. The pain is so overwhelming that I can barely even think, let alone move.

All I can do is hang on the cross and wait for the pain to end.

All I can do is wait to die.

This is one of the best victim perspective crucifixions I have read; great pacing, drama and detail.

I’ve lost the science-y storyline a bit with her regular consciousness embedded in an artificial body and am wondering if the executioner Varius is really her brother… is this the final installment? Can she really die? Looking forward to rereading it start to finish in a bit, my questions might be answered with a more careful reading.

Thank you for sharing this great piece!

 

[Jacktrade]

Chapter 6: Waiting​

Death doesn't come quickly. I remember Justin telling me at one point that it can take hours or even days for a crucifixion victim to die. I feel dread at that thought. Each moment on the cross is agony and the idea of this continuing for days sends me into despair.

I shift my body in an attempt to reduce the tension on the nails and relieve the pain in my arms and wrists, but each slight change in pressure causes waves of agony to flow through my arms and legs. I thrust my body outwards, upwards, and even sideways, but there is no position that alleviates the pain even a little bit.

I then resign myself to moving as little as possible. I simply hang motionless and try to not worsen the pain. I soon find out one of the many features of crucifixion that makes it such a uniquely cruel death. When I hang from my arms it puts immense pressure on my ribcage and makes it difficult to breathe. I soon grow short of breath and start making shallow gasps, which only causes the pain in my chest to increase. I don't want to move. Moving means more pain, but I need to breathe. I don't have a choice.

My body's survival instincts kick in against my will. My legs straighten, and the nails dig deeper into my feet. I whimper as my body is pushed up on the cross and the iron nails grind against the broken bones in my feet. The pressure on my ribs decreases slightly, but my feet feel like they are being crushed and burned from the inside. I seize the opportunity to gasp in as much air as my lungs will hold.

Soon the muscles in my thighs begin to burn, and I am forced to lower my body. The descent is just as unbearable, but my body is no longer starving for oxygen. I hang by my wrists again and the nails press deeper into my flesh and bone. I can at least hang motionless for a few minutes before my body needs to breathe again and I am forced to continue this brutal dance.

The crowd laughs and points at my pain and helplessness. The sight of the young girl, naked and suffering, brings them pleasure. They enjoy the sight of my agony, and I am powerless to do anything about it. I cannot cover myself or hide from their gaze. Every naked part of me is fully on display.

I am desperate to cover up or even just to be able to move my arms to cover myself, but the nails keep my limbs pinned. Worse, they force me into a position that accentuates my form. My arms are stretched out wide and my legs are splayed open as if I was offering myself to the people below. My breasts bounce with every movement, and every time I push up to breathe I thrust and gyrate my hips. I can see my movements mirrored by the girls crucified on each side of me. The eroticism in such a brutal execution method is astonishing.

The guests love my suffering. They comment constantly on my body. The shape of my legs, the curve of my breasts, and the slender outline of my waist are all admired and lusted after. They shout obscenities about what they’d like to do to me. Some of them wander behind the cross to get a better view of my ass.

After some time some of the guests slip some coins to the soldiers guarding my cross for a few minutes of time with me. I’m not nailed very high. My breasts are even with most people’s eye lines, and this means that the men can walk up and slap and pinch and grab at my breasts and pussy. They compete to see who can make me squeal the loudest. One particularly sadistic man uses his fingernails to pinch my clit with horrific strength, and I dance and scream and struggle against the nails that cruelly pin me in place. Many of time force their hands in my sore vagina and try to get me to come. Many of them succeed. The crowd loves it.

Most of the audience simply sit and enjoy the sight of me writhing in pain and humiliation. A few even have servants bring them chairs and tables and have picnics while I suffer and bleed for their amusement.

The sun reaches its zenith and the afternoon heat intensifies. Each moment in the heat feels like an eternity. The sun burns the exposed skin of my body and makes me feel like I'm melting. The dry air steals the moisture from my throat and lungs, and each breath is a raspy agonizing wheeze. The soldiers notice this and have some servants bring buckets of water and rags.

One of the servants, a woman with dark brown hair and a beautiful face, wets a rag and places it at the end of a long pole. She holds it up to my face.

"Please... drink..." she says.

Her eyes are filled with pity and sorrow. She looks at me like I'm a wounded animal that should mercifully be put down. I distantly wonder if she’s an actor or a guest. I realize I don’t care.

I'm thirsty. So very thirsty.

I lean forward and the servant places the rag in my mouth. I suck the moisture from the cloth.

"That's enough." Varius barks.

The servant pulls the rag away and my tongue chases after the wet cloth.

"No, please. I'm so thirsty." I plead in a hoarse whisper.

Varius grabs the pole and laughs. "Still thirsty, eh? Well, you're going to have to work for it then."

He shifts the pole so that the rag hangs over my head. I look up. I know that I shouldn't play along. The water will only make me live longer and prolong my suffering, but I'm so parched that I don't care.

I raise myself on the cross and open my mouth. My tongue stretches out seeking moisture. Droplets of water drip down and splash across my forehead and the thorny crown, but the rag is just barely kept out of reach. Desperate, I stretch myself as far as I will go and scream to the sky in desperation.

Varius smiles. He likes watching me humiliate myself for a few drops of water. He finally lowers the pole a few inches.

My lips touch the damp rag and I suck greedily, drawing the water into my mouth. When I've had all I can drink, I fall limp against the nails, gasping and panting.

The servant looks down at her feet and wipes her eyes.

"What's wrong, slave?" the Varius asks.

"It's not right. She's just a child. Why is she here?"

"She's an enemy of Rome. We have to make an example of her."

"No. She's too young. It's not right."

"She's old enough for tits this big." the Varius sneers.

He reaches upward and pinches my nipples between his fingers. Then he squeezes and twists with staggering strength. I moan and struggle, but can't get away.

"Don't worry about it, slave. I'm sure she'll be put out of her misery soon. Maybe we'll break her legs if she survives the night. Or maybe you'd like to join her?"

The girl is silent and walks away. Varius releases his grip. I gasp in relief.

I continue my brutal dance on the cross. As the sun rises even further in the sky, I discover another terrible feature of crucifixion. When I push up to breathe, I have to work my arms to keep from falling forward, but after several hours of this my arms start to burn. Keeping myself from falling forward gets harder and harder. My muscles feel like they’re on fire, then they begin to spasm and cramp. Soon the strain on my arms is so great that the muscles simply do not respond. They twitch and ache, but are unable to keep me from my body tilting forward when I straighten my legs and push up on the cross.

This stretches my arms outward, upward, and behind me, and it puts incredible strain on my shoulders. Each time I lift myself to breathe my body falls forward and my shoulders are twisted behind me in an unnatural position. Tendons twist and stretch and my nerves scream out. It hurts almost as much as the nails. I know that in time my shoulders will completely dislocate.

I look to my left and see the blonde Germanic girl hanging on the cross. I see that she is still alive, although her face is blank and her eyes are staring blankly ahead. She doesn't seem to be struggling or in pain. Perhaps her programmed mind has simply accepted that she is dying.

To my right the dark haired girl hangs motionless, and I know that she is dead. The crowd had gotten bored with her after a few hours and had simply stopped paying attention. Her body is pale and her lips have gone blue. I feel a twinge of envy.

The sun sets and the evening chill causes goosebumps to rise on my flesh. Darkness and cold blanket the land and my body shivers violently and my teeth chatter. The cold makes my wounds throb and sends shooting pains through my fingers and toes.

My head sinks forward onto my chest and I let out a sob.

"Crying princess? We haven't even given you something to cry about yet." Varius voice comes from below me.

I look up and see that soldiers have started setting things up around my cross. The crowd has dispersed, but the soldiers make sure that torches are erected to provide light and a brazier is burning with iron tools sticking out of it. One of the soldiers is holding a whip. Another holds a pair of pincers. A wooden platform is set up at the base of my cross. It's tall enough that it just barely brushes my toes.

"Unfortunately, we have to wait until after dark before the really fun stuff starts." Varius continues. "The day crowd love to watch a good fucking and a good nailing, but they don't really have the stomach for true torture."

Varius grabs the pincers from one of the soldiers and steps onto the stage. He now stands over me.

"There are a few though who can handle it. More than that, they'll pay to inflict it. Can you imagine that? Paying money to do my job for me."

Two cloaked figures step out of the darkness and enter the ring of torchlight.

"You're just in time my wealthy patrons! This one still has plenty of life left in her. Ready for whatever you want to do to her!"

One of the figures grabs a burning iron from the brazier and turns it in her hands. She turns and inspects it as if she were appraising its quality. She turns to Varius.

"Go reinforce the perimeter Varius. I don't want to be interrupted."

Varius bows and steps off the stage and into the darkness. The rest of the soldiers follow him.

I am alone with the two hooded figures. They stand side by side and look up at me. The woman with the iron is dressed in a flowing black dress with a hood and cloak. I can't see her face, but her eyes burn in the darkness. Her gaze sends shivers down my spine. The other figure is a man. He's well built and tall, but the cloak and the darkness hide all of his other features.

"What do you think, darling?" the woman asks.

The man is silent. He looks me over carefully, his eyes linger on my breasts and hips.

"Justin has outdone himself this time. I think this might be his best work yet." The man says in a deep gravely voice.

The woman turns her cold gaze on me and a chill passes through my body.

"Yes, I agree. Look at the eyes. Still so full of fire. So lifelike. It's quite realistic."

"I know it's been a rough few weeks, but I do think this will help. It's been too long since we've really cut loose. What's the point of having all of this if we don't use it?" the man asks.

The man pulls the hood off his head and I feel my heart skip. It's my dad.

"We don't need to pretend anymore." he says.

I try to tell myself it's an actor, but I'm looking at his face. I'm looking at the real thing. His eyes. His nose. His lips. The man who spent countless hours by my bedside. This is him.

But this can't be him. The man I remember was always smiling. Always gentle. He was a loving husband and father, not someone who comes to this section of the park for his amusement.

But he created this section of the park.

"I couldn't agree more." the woman replies.

She throws off her hood and my mind fully unravels. It's my mom. The one who took me to the parks. Who held my hand as I walked. Who helped me solve my first mystery in Victorian World. The one who told me that I was her precious little girl.

This can't be my parents. These have to be actors. Fakes.

Deep down I know that's a lie.

My father turns to my mother.

"So, which one of us should go first?" he asks.

"You fuck her and I'll hurt her." She replies.

Both of them begin walking toward my cross.