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Assistant executioner
Apr 28, 2018
Near the Mighty Mississippi River
Looks like they were already here :confused:
As a man about to be crucified, I have been raped anally and orally in the cell by other prisoners who were there for lesser offenses and who'll be sent to work in the quarries or mines for the rest of their lives. But here they move about freely, and take out their anger and frustration on my naked, helpless body. Some are gentle; some are rough. I admit to myself I enjoy both, maybe especially the rougher ones. I don't know how long I've been here. The weather is now hot, and it's stifling in here.
On the night before I am to be crucified, I am taken to a public square, chained with my hands over my head, legs spread wide, but not too uncomfortably. The guards leave and soon the city's sadists are lining up to rape my ass, yank on or crush of even kick my balls, bite and pinch and pull on my tits, and piss on me. So far no shit, but I know to expect anything. A man brings a stool, and standing in front of me, forces his engorged cock into my mouth, all the way until I am choking and spitting up bile. After he cums in my mouth he begins pissing on my face and, then, down my throat. It is the first liquid I've had in at least two days. He leaves the stool; his successors use my mouth for sex. One man fotces kisses on me. A woman forces my mouth open and bites my tongue. I can taste the blood. Things are forced up my ass. Not just dicks. Cum and piss run down both legs. I can feel my butt hole tearing, splitting open. Finger, more fingers, hands, then whole arms up my ass. They claw at my insides. Maybe I'll die now. I hope so.
My torment away from the prison lasts until some time after sunrise. I have screamed until no sound comes out any more; but I am screaming nonetheless, in silence. I am surprised to see the small crowd hanging around the perimeter of what appears to be just a wide space between some dilapidated buildings from the old section near the prison.
I am relieved to see the guards coming. The irony is not lost on me. But their arrival brings not relief but only further disaster.
The manacles securing my wrists are pulling on my wrists. I hear the sound of a crank tightening my now-clanking chains until I am pulled off my feet and left dangling a foot or so off the ground. Within seconds I need to come down. I NEED to come down.
I hear a whir behind me and it knocks the wind out of me. I never knew pain could be so intense, so extreme. My back is on fire. Before my breath comes back I am hit again, and I am dimly aware of the stream of piss pooling on the hard-packed mud below my feet. I hear the whir of whatever they're hitting me with and kick my leg back against it as though to ward it off. There is laughter and jeering from the ever-growing crowd. It crosses my mind that these people are regulars at this rape and scourging fest. There is sexual activity going on in the rollicking crowd. I don't care. My breath is coming in gasps. The blows continue to enflame my back, my ass, my legs, even my neck; sometimes the flail reaches around my sides and burns into my flesh in front.
A man, a prison guard I recognize, steps in front of me. He carries a flail, its many tails ending in pieces of bone and broken iron nails. He peels off his tunic, his muscles gleaming ominously. He leers at me. While his partner continues to rip away at my back, he begins working my front.
I see the fire-pain coming. I kick at it again. I curse him, but my words are guttural and indistinguishable even to me, so hoarse am I!
He does't spare a square inch of my body. My thighs are on fire, my chest, my nipples. I feel an electric current from my tits reach my dick. Please don't stiffen! Don't make a better target! But stiffen I do. My cock lifts away and exposes my balls. And when the guard finally takes aim at my enlarged cock and all-too-available balls, it is almost as though I can't feel the fire still exploding on my ass, so excruciating now is the pain in my bloodied dick and crushed balls, as both guards focus on the middle of my body. I wonder if the scourges will castrate me. I realize my dick and my ass will never again be a source of pleasure, not for me, not for the beautiful people I've loved.
For a time now, I seem to be out of myself. The pain is so extreme, so overpowering, my mind is no longer grasping it. I am again aware how desperately I need to come down; and now I am back again fully conscious of every blow. I look down and see how bloody I am. Finally I hear the chains rattle and I land with a thud in a clump partly in my own piss on the ground.
The guards drag me to a wall and prop me up, sitting against it. "What's next?" my ass tormentor asks my dick beater. "Thorns?"
"Naw, I've got something special I've been saving for this one. Nails."
I am barely conscious, but still I feel it acutely when one nipple gets pulled away from my chest and 2 rusty iron nails are forced through it forming an X. The same procedure is performed on the other nipple.
"Now watch this!" one guard tells the other in something close to a chuckle. "Get him hard."
A youngish androgynous person is dragged over, forced to kneel between my legs and suck on my sore, bloody pecker. It doesn't feel good; in fact the saliva stings every cut like hell. Now the unwilling cock-sucker is gaging, and despite the unpleasant sensations I feel, something about the up and down friction and even, I realize, the sight of someone gagging on my dick stirs my cock to life. It grows firm, then rock hard.
The dick-tormenting guard takes my dick in his calloused hands and begins to push the last of his rusty nails into my cum hole. As it burns its way into my shaft, he leans over and growls into my ear, "You think this has been rough. You ain't felt any pain yet like you're gonna feel the rest of the day and tomorrow and the day after that. You'll be lucky if you only last a few days. Some people live for weeks, and the pain only gets worse and worse. You'll be screaming for someone to kill you before you've been hanging there ten minutes; but you've got days of this ahead of you. You'll wish you'd never been born.
"Here come the crucifixion party now. So long ass-hole. See you in hell."
Mar 28, 2016
The Grand Strand, USA
Hello Barbaria I agree with you that the whipping should not be vicious as too disable or disfigure the woman is being crucified. I also think that the lady should not be whipped or tortured to the point where the scourging becomes pointless. I think it ruins one of the best points of the process which is the walk to where she will be crucified and the crucifixion itself.
Like both your points, Shadow and Barbaria1. That is my sole reservation on King D's otherwise superb "The Scapegoat". However, the scourging can avoid maiming and disabling while also including what I want to see, a back AND frontal whipping.


Jul 5, 2018
I love the discussion as it moves in the area of whipping a woman's breasts as well as her backside.

But absent in this discussion is the notion that she must be sent back home after her whipping, so others who love her can see what has happened to her. Then her husband or lover would see what happened to his woman and have to psychologically deal with it. HOT.
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