I'm dragged up by one of the guards, who grabs the crossbar lashed to my shoulders. As my feet hit the ground I see the Executioner standing in front of me, the splintered remains of his Singapore Dragon in his left hand and an angry scowl on his face. The next thing I know a heavy punch lands right in my belly, forcing me back against the guard who's holding me up. As I cough and splutter, I hear the Executioner say with real malice "that's for breaking my favourite cane with your stupid fat arse!" A second punch lands in my gut. "And that's just because you have a stupid fat arse!" Then another. "And that's just because you're stupid and fat! Now get her down on the ground and let's nail the bitch!"
The guard holding the crossbar hauls me over to one of the uprights, my heels dragging through the dirt. I feel the skin scraping off them but it's the least of my worries. I'm winded, for all I know I may have just had something inside ruptured, and I'm bleeding profusely from dozens of wheals all over my back, bottom and legs. And I know what's about to happen.
The crossbar, and me, are thrown roughly onto the upright. I saw them as I arrived at the place of execution. Each one has a small section cut into it for the crossbar to rest. Each one also has a rough wooden phallus protruding a few feet below that section. I know exactly what that's for.
The crossbar is slotted into its waiting hole and strong ropes are quickly lashed around the join to hold my cross together. For a few seconds I hope that ropes might also be used to secure me to it, and then I see the Executioner standing over me. In his right hand is a large mallet, in his left a selection of shiny new nails, at least six inches long.
My right arm is stretched against the crossbar and my hand is pushed hard onto the wood. I feel the iron point against my palm, which seems the only part of my body not to have been abused so far. Suddenly that changes, as the mallet falls, piercing the skin. I scream and beg for mercy, forgiveness, a knife through the throat to end it quickly. AllI get is half-a-dozen more blows to drive the nail hard into the wood.
My left hand is dealt with in the same way, the ain no less for the agony in my right. Then my ankles, and they are nailed to each side of tthe upright, "so the whole world can see the cum dripping out of your whore cunt as you die!"
They begin to lift my cross, but a shout stops them. "Be a shame not to use that pussy one last time! And a last fill-up will really have her oozing when she's up there!" The Executioner laughs his agreement, and an overweight slob, with bad breath and broken teeth is between my thighs. He would never be my choice for my last fuck on earth, but I don't have much in the way of choices anymore, do I?
To illustrated that, the light above me is blocked out, and another overweight bastard, naked from the waist down, lowers his backside onto my face. At first he forces his bumhole onto my mouth, and I splutter and curse through the filthy hairs. Then, mercifully I suppose, he shifts his weight and slips his cock into my mouth. So, I'm going to be spit-roasted one last time before being left to die. This is how it ends.
In the background I hear hammering, followed by screams, as the others are nailed to their crosses. "Leave the Scotch bitch there, we'll use her as well. Get the rest of them up and dancing!"
As I hear the creaking of uprights being lifted, the guards groaning with the strain, I wonder how the final abuse Eulalia and I are going to suffer will look to the other prisoners from their unique vantage points....