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Talbus - The Guard

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Talbus awoke early. His sleep had been unrestful, and he longed for sunset before the sun rose. He longed to be walking home, his long dagger stained with the blood of Julia’s womb. Safe. Undetected. Redeemed.

He didn’t dare go out to the crosses early. He couldn’t do anything that could possibly arouse suspicion. He had to wait in his bed. For the first time in decades, his mental discipline had failed him, and he was reaping the consequences: every moment was an agony. Julia was hanging on her cross. She had hung there all night, hour after hour, even while he had slept. She was hanging there now, in a kind of misery Talbus could only imagine. He could hardly stand it. Then he would think of driving his knife into her body, and his heart would skip a beat, plunging his stomach into a steaming pool of nausea and sending cold sweat to his brow. Oh, for this day to be over!

When the sun finally showed himself, Talbus made his daily march to the crosses as he always did, tormenting himself with pressure to act the way he always did, unsure exactly how that was. He gave all the bandits their morning washes, asked them absently about how they had come to be executed, forgetting most of it, then came to Julia.

He had been so eager to finish with the others and get to her, but when he finally arrived, it was immediately hollow. He didn’t know what to say to her. He could think of nothing but how he planned to show her mercy, but he didn’t dare tell her yet. So he washed her mostly in silence. There were dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, and she was far more exhausted than she had been the day before. She mostly stared, her arms taut above her as she hung, making no effort to support herself, her bare legs splayed open, her fingers trembling, her head shaking slowly, like an ancient man or woman’s might. Every minute or so, her face would contort with pain and effort, and she would slowly haul herself up to breath, grunting, groaning, sobbing. Sometimes drool dripped from her bottom lip. And every once in a while, even when she was hanging still, her mouth would gape and her brow wrinkle, and she would shriek, as if she had suddenly been overtaken by some new, unfathomable depth of agony. This was common; Talbus had seen many men and women behave the same way on their crosses, and it had always been a mystery to him. But never had it distressed him so much as it had when he had watched Anna die, or now, watching Julia.

“Does it hurt more today?” he asked the pale girl. She nodded. Talbus could only lay her thigh. He began to walk away, for no particular reason. Then he heard a choking noise, and turned to see she was trying to speak. With a wince, she managed to clear her slender throat:
“I want to die now.” Talbus refrained from telling her what he planned, but only with exertion.

Later in the morning, as the passers-by began requesting to abuse Julia’s nakedness, one young man approached Talbus with more sorrow and confusion on his face than lewdness.

“Sir, is she the only woman?”

“Yes, she is,” Talbus replied.

“I am looking for someone called Priscilla. At the prison they told me she was... crucified.” The youth’s eyes moistened and his face reddened as he said the word. Talbus looked at him with compassion for a moment before he replied.

“She was, Son. Two days ago, but she... well, she died. Yesterday.”

“Oh.” The young man’s jaw trembled. “Well, it was fast, then...” and he turned away quickly, his forearm over his eyes.

“It was,” said Talbus, looking at the ground and remembering how Priscilla’s blood had splattered everywhere as the centurion beat her to death. “You must be her son, then? She spoke of you just before she died. She loved you, and she was proud of you.” Talbus only realized he had made up the last but after he’d said it, but he didn’t regret saying it. Priscilla’s son turned to look him in the eye again.

“Thank you, Sir,” he said, truly grateful, and a little puzzled. Then he walked away.

Moments later, two soldiers marched through the gate with the day’s first victim: a woman, apparently in an advanced state of pregnancy, wearing a rough tunic, her hands tied behind her. Talbus had never seen so many women crucified in two days, except when while households were condemned to the cross. He approached the soldiers.

“Another woman!” he said, trying to sound casual.

“The window of the bandit who died of his wounds. The magistrate sentenced her to die for her husband’s crimes.”

“Ah. You know the crosses are all occupied? Should I kill the girl over there?”

“No, no - she can wait.”

“Are you pregnant?” Talbus addressed the woman.

“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir - let me have my baby!”

“Oh, shut up!” One of the soldiers struck her mouth, and she bled a little.

“Will you have it soon?” Talbus asked, bewildering the soldiers by continuing to speak to her.

“Very soon! Maybe even today! I don’t care what happens to me after - just please don’t kill my baby!”

“Well, it looks like you have a little time if you hurry up,” smirked one of the guards.

To be continued...
 
Talbus’ head swirled with the new moral dilemma he now faced. If he went through with his plan to end Julia’s misery, he would be making a cross available for this expectant mother, quite possibly sending her to the cross before her baby was born.

Talbus’ entire life was a moral dilemma. He had coped mostly by not involving himself - always reacting, never acting. He did as he was told, and let nature and the cruel world around him take their course in all else. Now he had finally determined to act, and the complications were too terrible for him to contemplate. He was driven to distraction. At one point he suddenly jerked from his thoughts to realize there were three young men all groping and fondling Julia at once, and penetrating her with their fingers. Fortunately, they were conscientious, law-abiding citizens, and they had done her no harm, nor did they argue when he told them they must take turns.

Early that afternoon, Talbus could see that Julia needed her cornu. She had probably needed it since late morning, but he hadn’t wanted to face the decision he now had to make. He hadn’t told her of his plan yet, and if she asked to have the cornu up her vagina, he would have to either give up his plan if knifing her or explain why the cornu had to go up her anus. If he told her, he had to follow through.

Glancing at the pregnant woman reclining on the ground, Talbus approached Julia’s cross, blunt cornu in hand.

“Ok, Boys, back off - I need to set her cornu.” The youths respectfully made space, but stayed very close to watch, snickering and giggling among themselves.

“Now, Julia,” he said, addressing Agony incarnate, this slender figure of pure, naked pain hanging on the cross. Up this close, he could hear every quick, short gasp of breath in her epic struggle with death, and the tremulous breathy sound of the torture between - breath that is not breath, as her lungs seemed to vibrate with panic. How many hours had she endured this? How many days? He had to put an end to it.

She slowly managed to look at him without moving her head, yanking him from his brooding. “I need to put this up your butt.” He had decided not to give her the option. She closed her eyes and nodded slightly, resigned. But as he began making markings on the cross and positioning the horn between her buttocks, he heard again the rasp and choke of her beginning to speak.

“Can—” she swallowed, winced, and began again, “Can it go in front?” Talbus looked around at the spectators, too near. “No,” he said, and paused, thinking of how to explain, but then gave up and set to work. He felt an awful rift yawn between him and this dying girl - something he had never felt with one of his charges. He had never been deceitful or cruel to any of them, ever. Now, with the girl to whom he finally meant to show real kindness, he had taken on the role of the cruel guard, setting about to impale her on a cornu through her anus without explanation, without apology.

“Now,” he quickly proceeded, as if it might leave the discomfort behind, “it may help if I massage it a little and put a finger in first - is that alright with you?” Slowly, the hard creases of pain on her face deepened and twisted, and she began to weep. Though her pain had been beyond tears, now her humiliation brought them back. Talbus was never impatient with his charges, but now this display of emotion played on his guilt and irked him terribly. “Well if you don’t want me to, I won’t - I’m just asking...” In her tears, Julia began shaking, then nodding her head.

“You can.”

Talbus spat on his fingers and reached between Julia’s bottom and her cross to find her anus and begin rubbing her gently there. She didn’t stop weeping.

To be continued...
 
Good to see the guard
Talbus’ head swirled with the new moral dilemma he now faced. If he went through with his plan to end Julia’s misery, he would be making a cross available for this expectant mother, quite possibly sending her to the cross before her baby was born.

Talbus’ entire life was a moral dilemma. He had coped mostly by not involving himself - always reacting, never acting. He did as he was told, and let nature and the cruel world around him take their course in all else. Now he had finally determined to act, and the complications were too terrible for him to contemplate. He was driven to distraction. At one point he suddenly jerked from his thoughts to realize there were three young men all groping and fondling Julia at once, and penetrating her with their fingers. Fortunately, they were conscientious, law-abiding citizens, and they had done her no harm, nor did they argue when he told them they must take turns.

Early that afternoon, Talbus could see that Julia needed her cornu. She had probably needed it since late morning, but he hadn’t wanted to face the decision he now had to make. He hadn’t told her of his plan yet, and if she asked to have the cornu up her vagina, he would have to either give up his plan if knifing her or explain why the cornu had to go up her anus. If he told her, he had to follow through.

Glancing at the pregnant woman reclining on the ground, Talbus approached Julia’s cross, blunt cornu in hand.

“Ok, Boys, back off - I need to set her cornu.” The youths respectfully made space, but stayed very close to watch, snickering and giggling among themselves.

“Now, Julia,” he said, addressing Agony incarnate, this slender figure of pure, naked pain hanging on the cross. Up this close, he could hear every quick, short gasp of breath in her epic struggle with death, and the tremulous breathy sound of the torture between - breath that is not breath, as her lungs seemed to vibrate with panic. How many hours had she endured this? How many days? He had to put an end to it.

She slowly managed to look at him without moving her head, yanking him from his brooding. “I need to put this up your butt.” He had decided not to give her the option. She closed her eyes and nodded slightly, resigned. But as he began making markings on the cross and positioning the horn between her buttocks, he heard again the rasp and choke of her beginning to speak.

“Can—” she swallowed, winced, and began again, “Can it go in front?” Talbus looked around at the spectators, too near. “No,” he said, and paused, thinking of how to explain, but then gave up and set to work. He felt an awful rift yawn between him and this dying girl - something he had never felt with one of his charges. He had never been deceitful or cruel to any of them, ever. Now, with the girl to whom he finally meant to show real kindness, he had taken on the role of the cruel guard, setting about to impale her on a cornu through her anus without explanation, without apology.

“Now,” he quickly proceeded, as if it might leave the discomfort behind, “it may help if I massage it a little and put a finger in first - is that alright with you?” Slowly, the hard creases of pain on her face deepened and twisted, and she began to weep. Though her pain had been beyond tears, now her humiliation brought them back. Talbus was never impatient with his charges, but now this display of emotion played on his guilt and irked him terribly. “Well if you don’t want me to, I won’t - I’m just asking...” In her tears, Julia began shaking, then nodding her head.

“You can.”

Talbus spat on his fingers and reached between Julia’s bottom and her cross to find her anus and begin rubbing her gently there. She didn’t stop weeping.

To be continued...
Good to see the guard back in action!
 
Seems a reasonable, if not pleasurable, request to me ... :rolleyes:
Pleasurable? Not so sure... This thing isn’t silicone, Barb. They’ve sanded down the tip enough that it won’t puncture or tear anything, but aside from that it’s just some rough peg a carpenter hacked out in a rush. Not guaranteed splinter-free. Obviously stained from plenty of previous use. Might want to reconsider...
 
After a few moments of this humiliating massage, Talbus shifted the girl’s hips to the side and pulled her cheeks apart to get the view he needed of her anus. Each movement elicited a soft despairing cry from her, adding voice to her silent weeping. The young men watched with stupid grins from a short distance away as Talbus put the tip of the peg in place and began pressing gently.

“Try to relax back here, Julia,” he instructed her. “It will be easier if you don’t squeeze.” She archer her back, thrusting her bottom back toward him in cooperation, legs straining, tear-streaked face to the sky. “That’s it - loosen up and relax. There you go, getting close... Oh! Big squeeze...” (She winced.) “Yeah, it’s a bit rough, try not to squeeze it. Alright, one more time - loosen... and a big push... Done.” Then he tacked the cornu to the upright of her cross and stepped back to see her, now with her legs less bent, hanging forward a little, buttocks now pinned back, head hanging, mouth open. Her pose was less graceful now, more obscene. She panted and heaved more freely now, her ribs flexing in and out under her once-white, sunburned skin. A little urine dribbled down her leg, and she hardly seemed to notice. Yesterday, her death, for all the pain and shame, would have had a certain beauty in it. Now it was purely pathetic.

As Talbus looked her over, she eventually looked back, weary, like she didn’t want to be seen. He stepped close to her. “Your father would be proud of you, Julia.” She broke down into fresh tears.

“I shouldn’t have done it,” she sobbed. “Not worth it!”

With a pat on her thigh, Talbus strode back to the soldiers holding the pregnant woman. He didn’t like having her there, her scared eyes darting back and forth among the crosses, anxiously and desperately hoping her baby might live.

“You know I don’t think any of these will die today,” he said, “She’ll probably have to wait till tomorrow, if you just want to take her back to her cell.”

“Sure? The girl looks half-dead...”

“Well, I just gave her her cornu. She’ll last - well,” Talbus caught himself. He knew she was likely to live another couple of days with the cornu, but these soldiers didn’t know what he knew about death on a cross. “She might die in the night - hard to say. But not before. The rest of these were just crucified late yesterday.”

The soldier looked disgruntled, but accepted it. “Looks like you get another day, Bitch.”

“Not today??” The woman asked, her panicked eyes wide as ever.

“No - tomorrow,” said the soldier, beginning to lead her back to the city. She looked back at Talbus, like she wanted confirmation she could trust.

“Maybe you can have your child tonight,” he offered, then watched as she disappeared into the city. He hoped so.

Later that afternoon, when there was little activity around the crosses, Talbus approached Julia again. He didn’t want to tell her yet, because somewhere inside he still didn’t want to be fully committed. But he couldn’t bear having her think he had been cruel about her cornu, when his true intentions were noble.

“Julia,” he said softly, unsure how to begin. “I’m sorry about the cornu.” Even with her arms nailed above her, she managed a faint movement he could tell was a shrug. “I want to help you.”

She looked at him with weary disdain for a moment, then spoke: “If you want to help me, just kill me.”

“Well that’s - that’s what I mean,” he said, suddenly feeling his great, courageous deed somehow cheapened.

Her eyes became more interested. “Can you?”

“Yes, I - I have a long knife. And... I think if I put it up through your - womanhood, uh, it would look like your period had begun.” Here, feeling terribly awkward, he waited for some sigh of eagerness from Julia. She only continued to look at him, waiting. “It’s very long. It could stab very deep.” Again he waited. “That’s why I didn’t want to put the cornu there,” he said.

A single tear fell from her right eye. “Do it,” she said.

“Well I’ll have to wait until later in the day...” Suddenly she was sobbing.

“Please, Talbus! Just kill me, Talbus...!” A tear came to the guard’s eye as well. “Please kill me...! Please!!” And her body shook as she cried, too hard to be able to say more. Talbus kisses her knee.

“Soon,” he said, and then, his voice shaking, “I’m sorry.”

To be continued...
 
He had told her too soon. The rest of the afternoon, she constantly called to him, desperately, sometimes breathlessly, sometimes almost wailing.

“Will you really do it?”

“Yes, as I promised.”

“Now?”

“No, but soon.”

“When?”

“At dusk, before the night guards come.”

“How long until dusk?”

Talbus tried to spend as much time as possible wandering among the other crosses, talking with the bandits as they died, but Julia seemed only able to hang for a few minutes without rehashing the subject afresh with him. The cross had broken her. The dignified young woman who had calmly undressed herself before her executioners and laid her nude body on her cross to be nailed was now a frantic, naked girl, impaled through her most humiliating orifice, crushed between the twin panics of her interminable agony and her fast-approaching death. It was difficult for Talbus to tell for sure, but she seemed alternatively to be unable to wait another moment to die and be released from her tortured, humiliated body, and then terrified of death itself. Each time she ran out of questions to ask Talbus, she asked him for water, seemingly as a sort of nervous habit, so through the course of the afternoon she let the passers-by watch her urinate down her red-crisped legs at least half a dozen times.

As Talbus tried to calm his pounding heart in preparation for the crime he was about commit, he also fought in anguish the guilt of feeling that by killing Julia in mercy, he would also be killing the pregnant woman’s unborn child. Maybe they wouldn’t really do it, he thought. Maybe they were having fun tormenting the poor woman, but in the end, they would wait to execute her until her child was born. Maybe? Or maybe one of these bandits would die in the the night and it wouldn’t matter anymore - she would be crucified on their cross instead of Julia’s. It was possible - most wouldn’t be given sediles. Still, he knew that’s the most likely thing was that the bandits would all be alive in the morning, but Julia would be dead, and they would nail the pregnant woman to Julia’s cross. Maybe she really would have the child that night?

That afternoon was the longest Talbus could remember, but it did come to an end. Just as the light of the already-set sun was fading, and the traffic on the road had slowed to nothing, Julia called again.

“Talbus - is it dusk now?”

“Yes,” he said, drawing his long knife from its hiding place under his uniform. Her eyes widened a little, like she hadn’t expected the answer she had been waiting for.

“Is that...?” she eyed the knife, suddenly shaking more than she had been.

“Yes,” barely more than a whisper.

“It won’t just hurt me, right?” Also trying to whisper.

“No, it’s very long, see?” And he held it up to her groin, the hilt touching her labia, the sharp tip reaching up higher than her navel. He looked to the side to confirm that his other charges were concentrating on their own suffering and didn’t notice what was happening.

“Ok.”

“Ok? So spread your legs as wide as you can...”

“Ok - ok, ok...” she obeyed, breathing hard through her gaping mouth, eyes averted high in dreadful anticipation. With his left hand, Talbus stretched her labia open, and after a glance up her vagina, set the tip of his knife at the entrance. Urine spurted out onto his hands and arm, and he withdrew.

“I’m sorry - I’m sorrry,” she panted, coming close to tears.

“It’s alright,” he soothed her, then resumed, holding her womanhood open and setting his knife in place.

“Ok - just - just just —“ Julia’s nerves were getting the better of her. For a moment, Talbus thought the kindest thing might be to thrust in anyway and end it, but he couldn’t.

“Do you need a moment?”

“Just - just a moment.” She clenched her eyes shut and took a few deep breaths, then looked Talbus in the eyes. “Ok,” she said.

“Ok?” He set the knife back in place and she set her eyes on the darkening sky above her. “You’re ready?”

“Yes” she sounded impatient now.

Talbus took a breath himself, then carefully slid the knife into her - slowly, so as not to make any external mark. Julia’s eyes widened and her mouth gasped wider and wider as she inhaled deeper and deeper. When the knife reached her womb, he had to push harder, and at a few other points he had to shove a bit, her lifeblood trickling down his arm. Then he reached the end and looked up. Her face was closer than he had thought; she had slumped forward and was staring into his eyes, or through them, with a face like a petrified ghost.

“Thank you,” she managed, barely audible. He withdrew his knife. She was still breathing. He had no idea how long she would continue to breathe, and the night guards would be there any moment. A strange terror suddenly came over him. He had never killed, not even in battle. Now Julia’s lifeblood stained his whole arm. He thought of the pregnant woman waiting in her cell to be crucified.

“You’ll die before morning,” he told Julia, and he started away to the west, into the wilderness, trotting at first, then running, like a man possessed.

The End
 
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He had told her too soon. The rest of the afternoon, she constantly called to him, desperately, sometimes breathlessly, sometimes almost wailing.

“Will you really do it?”

“Yes, as I promised.”

“Now?”

“No, but soon.”

“When?”

“At dusk, before the night guards come.”

“How long until dusk?”

Talbus tried to spend as much time as possible wandering among the other crosses, talking with the bandits as they died, but Julia seemed only able to hang for a few minutes without rehashing the subject afresh with him. The cross had broken her. The dignified young woman who had calmly undressed herself before her executioners and laid her nude body on her cross to be nailed was now a frantic, naked girl, impaled through her most humiliating orifice, crushed between the twin panics of her interminable agony and her fast-approaching death. It was difficult for Talbus to tell for sure, but she seemed alternatively to be unable to wait another moment to die and be released from her tortured, humiliated body, and then terrified of death itself. Each time she ran out of questions to ask Talbus, she asked him for water, seemingly as a sort of nervous habit, so through the course of the afternoon she let the passers-by watch her urinate down her red-crisped legs at least half a dozen times.

As Talbus tried to calm his pounding heart in preparation for the crime he was about commit, he also fought in anguish the guilt of feeling that by killing Julia in mercy, he would also be killing the pregnant woman’s unborn child. Maybe they wouldn’t really do it, he thought. Maybe they were having fun tormenting the poor woman, but in the end, they would wait to execute her until her child was born. Maybe? Or maybe one of these bandits would die in the the night and it wouldn’t matter anymore - she would be crucified on their cross instead of Julia’s. It was possible - most wouldn’t be given sediles. Still, he knew that’s the most likely thing was that the bandits would all be alive in the morning, but Julia would be dead, and they would nail the pregnant woman to Julia’s cross. Maybe she really would have the child that night?

That afternoon was the longest Talbus could remember, but it did come to an end. Just as the light of the already-set sun was fading, and the traffic on the road had slowed to nothing, Julia called again.

“Talbus - is it dusk now?”

“Yes,” he said, drawing his long knife from its hiding place under his uniform. Her eyes widened a little, like she hadn’t expected the answer she had been waiting for.

“Is that...?” she eyed the knife, suddenly shaking more than she had been.

“Yes,” barely more than a whisper.

“It won’t just hurt me, right?” Also trying to whisper.

“No, it’s very long, see?” And he held it up to her groin, the hilt touching her labia, the sharp tip reaching up higher than her navel. He looked to the side to confirm that his other charges were concentrating on their own suffering and didn’t notice what was happening.

“Ok.”

“Ok? So spread your legs as wide as you can...”

“Ok - ok, ok...” she obeyed, breathing hard through her gaping mouth, eyes averted high in dreadful anticipation. With his left hand, Talbus stretched her labia open, and after a glance up her vagina, set the tip of his knife at the entrance. Urine spurted out onto his hands and arm, and he withdrew.

“I’m sorry - I’m sorrry,” she panted, coming close to tears.

“It’s alright,” he soothed her, then resumed, holding her womanhood open and setting his knife in place.

“Ok - just - just just —“ Julia’s nerves were getting the better of her. For a moment, Talbus thought the kindest thing might be to thrust in anyway and end it, but he couldn’t.

“Do you need a moment?”

“Just - just a moment.” She clenched her eyes shut and took a few deep breaths, then looked Talbus in the eyes. “Ok,” she said.

“Ok?” He set the knife back in place and she set her eyes on the darkening sky above her. “You’re ready?”

“Yes” she sounded impatient now.

Talbus took a breath himself, then carefully slid the knife into her - slowly, so as not to make any external mark. Julia’s eyes widened and her mouth gasped wider and wider as she inhaled deeper and deeper. When the knife reached her womb, he had to push harder, and at a few other points he had to shove a bit, her lifeblood trickling down his arm. Then he reached the end and looked up. Her face was closer than he had thought; she had slumped forward and was staring into his eyes, or through them, with a face like a petrified ghost.

“Thank you,” she managed, barely audible. He withdrew his knife. She was still breathing. He had no idea how long she would continue to breathe, and the night guards would be there any moment. A strange terror suddenly came over him. He had never killed, not even in battle. Now Julia’s lifeblood stained his whole arm. He thought of the pregnant woman waiting in her cell to be crucified.

“You’ll die before morning,” he told Julia, and he started away to the west, into the wilderness, trotting at first, then running, like a man possessed.

The End
Great story, thanks! Seems to be a stressfull and demanding job to be a crucifixion guard....
 
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