J
Juan1234
Guest
You and Me
Did you watch, when they nailed your wrists?I watched the first one.
I was determined to be proud.
I decided not to look away, and not to scream.
I watched as he set the nail in place,
Clenched my teeth, and watched the hammer come down hard,
Watched the spike sink instantly down into my wrist,
Felt the electric jolt of pain course through my arm,
Felt my stomach turn,
Watched the blood well up around the nail-hole,
Realized I had screamed the moment the blow was struck,
And was now sobbing like a child.
Not so proud.
But I did not look away.
I watched him pound my nail again.
Watched the nail-hole widen as the tapered spike drove deeper.
Felt the pain mount higher, building upon itself.
Screamed again, returned to sobbing.
Kept my tear-blurred eyes fixed, resolute,
Watched him strike again.
And again.
And a final time, just to be sure.
Just to hurt me again.
Then I closed my eyes, and kept them shut while he drove the second nail through my other wrist.
I still screamed, still sobbed,
But watching once was enough.
I never thought we would die this way, me and you.
I suppose it's fitting, after living side by side,
We die side by side.
I would rather die older, without pain,
Rather die with some dignity,
Some privacy.
But I wouldn't want to die without you beside me.
Not that it's much comfort to watch you hanging there naked beside me,
Gasping for breath, weeping in despair,
Groaning in agony,
Bleeding away your lifeblood,
Peeing down your bare legs in front of this crowd.
Did you resist when they stripped you?
I didn't.
I wanted to pretend I wasn't ashamed.
I stood still and tall and fixed my eyes on his,
And let him rip my tunic down from the collar.
I let him pull it roughly from my shoulders and arms without a struggle.
I offered my arms to make it easier,
And kept my eyes on his.
I have nothing to be ashamed of.
Even if my body isn't perfect.
Even though I'm stripped as a criminal,
About to be punished.
So I pretended not to be ashamed.
I didn't react when they slapped my bottom
And gripped it and rubbed it and pulled my cheeks apart,
When they pinched my nipples and grabbed my pussy,
Deep enough to ram a finger in.
I pretended not to notice,
Not to be ashamed.
I have nothing to be ashamed of,
Even if I don't want them to touch me.
Even if I don't want them to see me,
Don't like to be naked in public.
I don't think they saw my tears;
I wiped them away before they could fall.
Have you found any way to lessen the pain?
The best I've been able to do is to hang completely by my arms,
And lift my legs ever so slightly, to take all the weight off my feet.
I tried giving my wrists a break and pushing myself up,
To put all my weight on the nails in my feet,
But I slumped forward, and the nails in my wrists still pulled and tore.
It was worse.
Worse for my feet, no better for my wrists.
So I'm hanging low, lifting the weight of my legs off the nails.
I don't know how long my thighs and abs will have the strength,
And the pain is still far more than my mind can handle,
But there is nothing better.
Of course there is also the cornu.
How did you manage to fuck yourself on it like a woman?
I tried to take it up my vagina like you,
but I couldn't cock my hips back far enough.
When I was too tired, I let it go up my bum.
I wish I could try again.
I don't like hanging weight on a peg in my butt,
But it hurts too much to move.
I'll stay here.
I won't move.
I'll die like this.
Are you still shaking your head to deter the flies?
I stopped doing that.
Every movement tugs on the nail-holes.
(And my other hole.)
I can't do it anymore.
I hang as still as I can,
Legs and abs straining to keep the weight off the foot-spikes,
Trying to die with a little less pain.
The flies can have my eyes.
I'll just shut them, head bowed.
I don't want to see the crowd watching us die anyway.
There was never anything I could do about the bugs on my vulva.
Did you see what he did to me?
Right after they crucified us.
He decided it wasn't enough.
He came with a tiny jar of honey,
Dipped in a little paddle,
Just as wide as two fingers,
And padded it onto my exposed lady parts.
Why did I need honey on my pussy?
Were the nails not enough?
And the peg up my bum?
Is it not enough to die on this cross,
Naked and bleeding and screaming in pain?
Did I have to be punished with honey?
Did they whip you severely?
I walked behind you when we were marched up here to die.
It looked like your back was bleeding a little.
I think I feel some drips down my back too, but I can't be sure.
I thought the beating was severe,
I thought there could be nothing worse.
I begged them to stop.
All I could think of was when it would end.
Now I wish they had flogged us harder, longer.
I wish we were still there, having our backs sliced open,
And the slices sliced again,
And torn again, and deeper.
I wish they had turned us over and whipped our bellies,
Whipped our breasts open.
I wish the blood had run down our legs.
I wish every footstep from the whipping post to this cross was clear to see in crimson blood.
I wish we had lost the strength to scream.
I wish we had had no strength to walk,
And they had beaten us more because we couldn't march.
I wish I felt fainter now.
I feel many terrible things, but I do not feel faint.
I feel too strong, living in this terrible, interminable moment.
I feel the nails.
I feel the peg.
I feel the hot breeze on my naked skin.
I feel the eyes of the crowd watching me hang here naked and without honor.
Watching me suffer under a public notice of my crime and sentence.
Watching me lose my last and most intimate battle.
So slowly.
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