Fantasmo
Senator
You mean "the lips"?
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Hangnail
Tribune
Willowfall Captured (7), by Hangnail
"Those who vote to put this rebel, Willowfall, on the crux humilis, go and
stand by the dancing lady," I gestured to the curly-haired woman twitching on
her low cross. "Those for the crux sublimis, stand by her distinguished
companion." I pointed at the man, who had managed to haul himself up on
quivering legs, and was arching his back in an effort to stop his buttocks
from sliding down the stipes. The mob scampered and hobbled to their
stations. Gallus and Silvanus counted them. The humilis group won by one vote.
"Wait!" complained a clean-shaven man from the sublimis group, one of the
better-groomed members of the ensemble. "We didn't ask the two who are
already up!"
"One's over here and one's over there, their votes cancel!" came the reply.
The factions began to argue, so I told them that since the crucified
couple couldn't change location to express their views, we would ask them
for their votes on how they would like Willowfall to join them.
"Patibulus and patibula, raise your hands for the crux humilis!" shouted a
wiry vagrant with a cataract in one eye. When the laughter had died down, the
humilis group nominated him as their representative. His name was
Andronicus. The sublimis group chose the large round prostitite, who insisted
that she was a madam and we should call her "Blossom". She said the woman on
the cross, Valeria, had been one of her most experienced whores, but, with the
help of her male friend Sergius, she had been stealing from senior Roman
officers who came to the brothel. Our army had shut down Blossom's brothel,
and Blossom herself had narrowly missed joining the miscreants on the
cross. She was still seething with rage at the loss of her livelihood.
Andronicus and Blossom and I went to the woman's cross. We let the
clean-shaven man and the skinny beggar with the bulge in his groin take charge
of Willowfall, each holding on to one of the leather thongs that were knotted
to her nipple-hooks. She shrank from the beggar in disgust but with a jerk on
the cord he pulled her to his side and began rubbing himself against her. She
looked in desperation to Gallus, who was busy behind Sergius's cross, sorting
through used nails from the siege wall. She told the beggar to stop. The
enterprising fellow pulled up her torn dress and flashed the dark triangle of
her pubis to the crowd. She pulled her dress down. He tugged cruelly on her
nipple and asked for bids from the crowd for another flash. The tinker with
the pots and pans pointed out that soon everyone would be seeing it for free.
The crucified woman was twisting in place, trying to find the nonexistent
pose that would stop the four fountains of pain at the ends of her limbs.
"Please, roll it back," she moaned as we drew close, looking down at her
bloody feet, pinned inconveniently to the front of the thick slice of
tree-trunk. Things would be much more comfortable for her if the log were
rotated a quarter-turn back so her feet could rest firmly on the top.
Blossom smiled coldly.
"What's she called, again?" I asked.
"Valeria," Blossom spat out the name.
"Valeria, do you want the rebel up on a high cross looking down at you, or
on the same level with you." I said.
Valeria started to speak, but then her words turned to groans of "Aaah,
aaaaah, aaaaaah!". Cramps seized the taut muscles of her arms, which had been
stretched tight by her weight ever since we'd arrived. Her creamy body shook
with new agony and her head tossed from side to side as her cries rose to
screams. I noticed a ring of bloody punctures around her nipples. Most likely
Blossom and her friends had been at work with their hairpins when we arrived.
Blossom chuckled as Valeria twitched and shrieked uncontrollably in new
heights of pain.
Silvanus, always practical, came running over with a yard-long strut of
timber. It was too short to be used as a patibulum. He suggested using it as
a rough sedile. The tinker rolled the log another few inches away from the
stipes to make space for it, pulling poor Valeria's feet even further down,
but she was already screaming as loud as she could from the cramps. Andronicus
happily cupped his hands under Valeria's generous buttocks, raising her
enough so Silvanus could place the timber vertically against the front of
the stipes. The bottom end rested on the ground between the stipes
and the log. Valeria perched her groin on the rough top end of it and was able
to take the weight off her arms. She gasped with gratitude at being able to
bend her arms a little, or perhaps her sighs were from the unending pain of
her nailed hands and feet. Silvanus lashed the sedile-strut to the stipes with
some old rope.
I could see that Willowfall's terror was getting the better of her. She had
no doubt seen crucifixions before, but only from a distance, and only of
savage men who deserved such punishment. Seeing Valeria's body stretched out
on the nails, and realizing that she would soon be in the same humiliating
position, was too much for her. She fainted and dropped to her knees, held
upright only by the the two men tugging on her nipple-cords. She immediately
regained her senses and scrambled to her feet. The crowd kept up their
taunts, telling her she'd be wide awake soon enough.
Valeria's cramps had eased but now, half-crazed with the agony that she knew
would never end, she started cursing Blossom as a fat thief who'd been
underpaying her for years. Realizing I was the officer in charge, Valeria
fought back the pain and leaned forward, addressing me in a steady voice.
"Officer, I know this unusual, but please let me down. I didn't steal.
It was Blossom and him, I swear it was."
I told her to stop complaining and accept her punishment. She moaned and
slumped back against the stipes, fresh tears wetting her cheeks.
I realized that my dick had become so erect that it was almost painful to
take a normal-sized step. I couldn't believe how arousing it was to be talking
to a well-endowed middle-aged woman who was naked and stretched out on a
cross. While she was stretched in humiliating exposure before the jeering
dregs of society, I stood easily before her, untouched by the pain boiling
through her body. The contrast between my freedom and her tautness was thrilling.
I wanted to feel every inch of her suffering body. But, remembering my duty, I
pointed out Willowfall and reminded Valeria of the question at hand.
"Put her on my cross!" Valeria howled. "I never killed anyone! Take these
nails, use them for her. I should just be tied!"
"Fucking whore!" came a shout from Sergius on the other cross, who had heard
Valeria blaming him for their crimes. Shaking with rage he babbled his
accusations, breaking off with grimaces and groans every few words. "It was
her! Take that seat out from under her! Let her hang and give the sedile to
me!" He glared wild-eyed at Willowfall. "And that new bitch too! All lying
cunts! Aaagh these nails! Fucking Romans!"
"Hang and suffer, thieving jackal!" snarled Blossom at him. Then, pointing
at Willowfall she turned to Valeria. "That girl isn't making excuses! She
deserves to be up there pissing down on a worn-out slag like you."
Valeria's pain-harrowed eyes took in Willowfall's youthful body and alluring
face. Perhaps Willowfall reminded her of the fresh young girls at the brothel,
and the humiliation of losing more and more of her regular clients to them as
the years went by. Her face darkened with womanly envy.
"Nail her low like us!"
Willowfall stared in dismay. She couldn't believe that even her fellow
victims had no sympathy for her, only resentment of her few remaining
minutes of freedom from the abject agony that they were enduring.
Cheers broke out from the group who favored a crux humilis for Willowfall.
"Those who vote to put this rebel, Willowfall, on the crux humilis, go and
stand by the dancing lady," I gestured to the curly-haired woman twitching on
her low cross. "Those for the crux sublimis, stand by her distinguished
companion." I pointed at the man, who had managed to haul himself up on
quivering legs, and was arching his back in an effort to stop his buttocks
from sliding down the stipes. The mob scampered and hobbled to their
stations. Gallus and Silvanus counted them. The humilis group won by one vote.
"Wait!" complained a clean-shaven man from the sublimis group, one of the
better-groomed members of the ensemble. "We didn't ask the two who are
already up!"
"One's over here and one's over there, their votes cancel!" came the reply.
The factions began to argue, so I told them that since the crucified
couple couldn't change location to express their views, we would ask them
for their votes on how they would like Willowfall to join them.
"Patibulus and patibula, raise your hands for the crux humilis!" shouted a
wiry vagrant with a cataract in one eye. When the laughter had died down, the
humilis group nominated him as their representative. His name was
Andronicus. The sublimis group chose the large round prostitite, who insisted
that she was a madam and we should call her "Blossom". She said the woman on
the cross, Valeria, had been one of her most experienced whores, but, with the
help of her male friend Sergius, she had been stealing from senior Roman
officers who came to the brothel. Our army had shut down Blossom's brothel,
and Blossom herself had narrowly missed joining the miscreants on the
cross. She was still seething with rage at the loss of her livelihood.
Andronicus and Blossom and I went to the woman's cross. We let the
clean-shaven man and the skinny beggar with the bulge in his groin take charge
of Willowfall, each holding on to one of the leather thongs that were knotted
to her nipple-hooks. She shrank from the beggar in disgust but with a jerk on
the cord he pulled her to his side and began rubbing himself against her. She
looked in desperation to Gallus, who was busy behind Sergius's cross, sorting
through used nails from the siege wall. She told the beggar to stop. The
enterprising fellow pulled up her torn dress and flashed the dark triangle of
her pubis to the crowd. She pulled her dress down. He tugged cruelly on her
nipple and asked for bids from the crowd for another flash. The tinker with
the pots and pans pointed out that soon everyone would be seeing it for free.
The crucified woman was twisting in place, trying to find the nonexistent
pose that would stop the four fountains of pain at the ends of her limbs.
"Please, roll it back," she moaned as we drew close, looking down at her
bloody feet, pinned inconveniently to the front of the thick slice of
tree-trunk. Things would be much more comfortable for her if the log were
rotated a quarter-turn back so her feet could rest firmly on the top.
Blossom smiled coldly.
"What's she called, again?" I asked.
"Valeria," Blossom spat out the name.
"Valeria, do you want the rebel up on a high cross looking down at you, or
on the same level with you." I said.
Valeria started to speak, but then her words turned to groans of "Aaah,
aaaaah, aaaaaah!". Cramps seized the taut muscles of her arms, which had been
stretched tight by her weight ever since we'd arrived. Her creamy body shook
with new agony and her head tossed from side to side as her cries rose to
screams. I noticed a ring of bloody punctures around her nipples. Most likely
Blossom and her friends had been at work with their hairpins when we arrived.
Blossom chuckled as Valeria twitched and shrieked uncontrollably in new
heights of pain.
Silvanus, always practical, came running over with a yard-long strut of
timber. It was too short to be used as a patibulum. He suggested using it as
a rough sedile. The tinker rolled the log another few inches away from the
stipes to make space for it, pulling poor Valeria's feet even further down,
but she was already screaming as loud as she could from the cramps. Andronicus
happily cupped his hands under Valeria's generous buttocks, raising her
enough so Silvanus could place the timber vertically against the front of
the stipes. The bottom end rested on the ground between the stipes
and the log. Valeria perched her groin on the rough top end of it and was able
to take the weight off her arms. She gasped with gratitude at being able to
bend her arms a little, or perhaps her sighs were from the unending pain of
her nailed hands and feet. Silvanus lashed the sedile-strut to the stipes with
some old rope.
I could see that Willowfall's terror was getting the better of her. She had
no doubt seen crucifixions before, but only from a distance, and only of
savage men who deserved such punishment. Seeing Valeria's body stretched out
on the nails, and realizing that she would soon be in the same humiliating
position, was too much for her. She fainted and dropped to her knees, held
upright only by the the two men tugging on her nipple-cords. She immediately
regained her senses and scrambled to her feet. The crowd kept up their
taunts, telling her she'd be wide awake soon enough.
Valeria's cramps had eased but now, half-crazed with the agony that she knew
would never end, she started cursing Blossom as a fat thief who'd been
underpaying her for years. Realizing I was the officer in charge, Valeria
fought back the pain and leaned forward, addressing me in a steady voice.
"Officer, I know this unusual, but please let me down. I didn't steal.
It was Blossom and him, I swear it was."
I told her to stop complaining and accept her punishment. She moaned and
slumped back against the stipes, fresh tears wetting her cheeks.
I realized that my dick had become so erect that it was almost painful to
take a normal-sized step. I couldn't believe how arousing it was to be talking
to a well-endowed middle-aged woman who was naked and stretched out on a
cross. While she was stretched in humiliating exposure before the jeering
dregs of society, I stood easily before her, untouched by the pain boiling
through her body. The contrast between my freedom and her tautness was thrilling.
I wanted to feel every inch of her suffering body. But, remembering my duty, I
pointed out Willowfall and reminded Valeria of the question at hand.
"Put her on my cross!" Valeria howled. "I never killed anyone! Take these
nails, use them for her. I should just be tied!"
"Fucking whore!" came a shout from Sergius on the other cross, who had heard
Valeria blaming him for their crimes. Shaking with rage he babbled his
accusations, breaking off with grimaces and groans every few words. "It was
her! Take that seat out from under her! Let her hang and give the sedile to
me!" He glared wild-eyed at Willowfall. "And that new bitch too! All lying
cunts! Aaagh these nails! Fucking Romans!"
"Hang and suffer, thieving jackal!" snarled Blossom at him. Then, pointing
at Willowfall she turned to Valeria. "That girl isn't making excuses! She
deserves to be up there pissing down on a worn-out slag like you."
Valeria's pain-harrowed eyes took in Willowfall's youthful body and alluring
face. Perhaps Willowfall reminded her of the fresh young girls at the brothel,
and the humiliation of losing more and more of her regular clients to them as
the years went by. Her face darkened with womanly envy.
"Nail her low like us!"
Willowfall stared in dismay. She couldn't believe that even her fellow
victims had no sympathy for her, only resentment of her few remaining
minutes of freedom from the abject agony that they were enduring.
Cheers broke out from the group who favored a crux humilis for Willowfall.
Wow great story,I don't envy Willow's fate.
hankstr
Magistrate
willowfall
Senator
You mean "the lips"?
I don't know. My legs "vibrate" (best word I can think of to describe what happens) when I have an orgasm. I don't know maybe a vibrator should be the symbol?
kisses
willowfall
Snicker!!!
Kodos the Executioner
Governor
Looking forward to this -- great story!
Hangnail
Tribune
Willowfall Captured (8), by Hangnail
Silvanus and Gallus brought the shorter stipes, dropped it in to the hole and
held it vertical while the two workers shoveled earth back in around it,
stamping the dirt to make it firm.
The chant broke out again.
"Hang her low! Make it slow! Hang her low! Make it slow!"
This time the whole crowd joined in.
Behind the chanting mob I saw a group of soldiers hurrying towards us along
the road from the army camp. I recognized several of the troops as members of
our company. One of the legionnaires we had talked to in the forum must have
sent word that Sextus had been killed and his murderess was about to be
crucified outside the main gate. Oppius and Titus, regular drinking buddies of
Sextus's, were the first to push their way through to the front, gently
guiding the grief-stricken figure of Fannia, Sextus's self-appointed
fiancee. Fannia's face was redder than usual, and her eyes latched
immediately on to Willowfall.
"Is that her?" she demanded. Before I could speak she anticipated
the answer and scuttled directly towards Willowfall. Oppius and Titus
grabbed her pudgy arms and held her back.
"You killed my Sextus!" wailed Fannia. The crowd murmured with delight.
"Really, sir, it was her?" asked Oppius, appraising Willowfall's slight build.
"With a bow," I explained.
"Shit. How was it?"
"It was quick. She got him in the neck."
"Lucky bitch," said Titus. "She'll ache for it. What now, sir?"
"Scourging, but I didn't bring a whip."
Titus smiled and held up a slave-whip he and Titus had grabbed on their
way out of the camp.
"Good," I said. "Bring her over."
Oppius and Titus took Willowfall from the clean-shaven man and the
skinny beggar and led her over to the stipes.
"No, please, I beg you, not in front of these... people," Willowfall pleaded,
as I yanked at the sleeves of her dress. Oppius and Titus stood, one on each
side, gripping her arms, forcing her to face Fannia and the rest of the
onlookers. Standing behind Willowfall I slowly worked the dress down off her
shoulders. The crowd fell silent in anticipation. Willowfall squirmed in
embarrassment, but that only made it easier to slide the thin cloth over her
smooth skin. She shut her eyes and bowed her head, and her pert little breasts
came in to view. There was a general sigh of appreciation.
"Please," whimpered Willowfall, trying to free her arms from Oppius and
Titus's grip. They fed her hands up through the sleeves, and the dress slipped
all the way to the ground. The men cheered at their rare luck in getting
to see an aristrocratic woman naked. The women sharply evaluated
Willowfall's athletic physique. Gallus and Silvanus watched from the side
where Valeria was writhing and grunting on her cross. She was trying
to find the least painful position on her new sedile, but by moving around
she kept tugging on the nails in her hands, or leaning on the nails that
fixed her feet to the front of the log.
I kicked Willowfall's legs apart and made her stand there, fully exposed.
Many in the crowd fidgeted as they felt their loins stir. Fannia watched
intently. I reached around and kneaded each of Willowfall's breasts, letting
the dangling leather cords dance from her nipples. There was a murmur of
excitement as I slid my right hand down her flat belly. Willowfall met
Gallus's gaze for a moment, then turned her face away. My fingers wormed their
way in to the wiry nest between her legs. She tried to pull her treasure away
but that just caused her to press her firm little buttocks back against me. I
slowly worked my two fingers in to the warmth of her groin, walking them
to and fro to bring forth the lips of her pussy. Willowfall gave a little mewing
moan, and I felt her labia slide easily against each other. The men
grinned. Even Blossom's hard-faced fellow prostitutes exchanged knowing
looks. I continued to roll her pussy lips between my fingers. Willowfall
tensed her buttocks, trapped in the masochist's dilemma. Humiliation, arousal,
greater humiliation...
"The slut likes it!" shouted someone.
One of the prostitutes, a blonde with a tattoo on her neck, sidled over to
Gallus and Silvanus and whispered an offer in their ears.
I gently manipulated Willowfall's pussy lips, letting them pull on her
clit but never touching it directly. She shifted her weight from one side to
the other, at first retreating from my relentless fingers, but gradually her
hips moved with their own mind, involuntarily steering her clit to my
fingertips. Her pussy lips became wet and slipped around uncontrollably
beneath my fingers. Continuing to roll them across her clit with my right
hand, I slid my left hand under her buttocks from behind, letting one finger
work its way very slowly into the gooey slit of her cunt. When I got past a
certain point her body tensed, she cried out, and her pussy suddenly
contracted, forcing my finger out again.
"She sounds like Valeria!" called out one of the men, no doubt a client
of Blossom's defunct brothel. The prostitutes laughed coarsely. Valeria
squirmed impotently on her cross and begged loudly to be taken down, but
no one was paying attention to her, all eyes were on Willowfall.
The clean-shaven man nudged Blossom then pointed to Willowfall and squeaked
"Mummy, what's that lady doing?" in a fake baby voice. Blossom chuckled and
pinched his cheek.
The tattooed blonde whore had her hand under Gallus's tunic. Elsewhere in
the crowd I could see surreptitious rhythmic movements as other prostitutes
found their own opportunities.
I kept rolling Willowfall's labia around. She struggled, but Oppius
and Titus kept a firm hold of her arms. I used my left hand to press two
fingers into her cunt. Just as she was about to have another little spasm, I
withdrew them. She became even more agitated. I stretched the slippery ring
of her butthole with one knuckle. Then I went back to her cunt with three
fingers.
Gallus and the blonde whore came over to stand by Willowfall. The woman, who
was a little taller than Willowfall, with more womanly curves, smiled knowingly
at Willowfall's blushing discomfort.
"The little princess likes being handled by her Roman friend!" she remarked
loudly to the crowd.
"Let's give her some dick before hanging her up!" shouted a man at the back.
"Don't want to waste a well-oiled pussy!" said someone else.
The prostitutes laughed. Willowfall shook her head angrily.
Gallus's arousal beneath his short tunic was obvious to all. The blonde
kept squeezing and jerking his barely hidden dick with her hand. Gallus took
hold of the leather thongs attached to Willowfall's nipple hooks. I felt her
pussy tighten on my fingers.
"Do you think he likes you, sweetie?" sneered the blonde, pumping Gallus's
dick faster. Oppius and Titus held Willowfall firmly in place as Gallus pulled
on the nipple hooks, stretching Willowfall's breasts out towards his armored
chest. He looked in to her eyes, and twisted the hooks.
A cry of heartfelt pain broke from Willowfall's lips.
Gallus released Willowfall's breasts, and ran his fingers down the side of
her face. He stroked the soft line of her jaw. Willowfall's lips quivered.
She looked as if she might start crying, but managed a brave smile. Gallus
smiled back, then leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.
The blonde whore rolled her eyes, and pulled Gallus away. Then she turned
back to Willowfall.
"Your cross-dance is going to make him big and hard for me!" she hissed.
I felt an overwhelming urge to push Willowfall to her knees and take her
right there, in front of the crowd. I could imagine their delight at seeing
one of their own high-class ladies thrashing around on her knees in the dirt
as a brutal legionnaire filled her orifices with Roman seed. But my sense of
duty managed to suppress these improper urges. I gestured to Oppius and
Silvanus and they pulled Willowfall over to the stipes. Her legs were thin
but nicely muscled. I stood on the other side so that Willowfall and I were
face to face, the stipes between us. I pulled her towards me, and her breasts
nestled one against each side of the vertical beam, then I took the leather
cords dangling from her nipple-hooks, and tied them together, so she could not
pull back from the stipes. As I knotted the cords I pulled them until her
little breasts wrapped around the stipes and pressed tight against each other,
nipple to nipple. She gasped in pain. I stroked away the hair that was stuck
to her face. Again I struggled to suppress the urge to take her right there.
Fantasies crossed my mind of having her as my own slave, to enjoy whenever I
liked. As Oppius and Titus tied Willowfall's hands to the stipes above her
head, I stepped back and called Fannia over. I handed her the whip.
"Can I whip her?" asked Fannia, in disbelief.
"She's all yours."
Fannia swung the whip inexpertly, and almost hit Oppius. The crowd
laughed. Fannia's face reddened a little, and as Oppius retreated
she swung again.
There was a "crack!" and a red line appeared across Willowfall's buttocks.
"One!" shouted the crowd.
Willowfall squealed and looked around. She was horrified to realize that Fannia
was wielding the whip. Being publicly whipped by a Roman camp-whore, in
front of her own cityfolk...
Fannia landed another blow across Willowfall's bottom.
"Two!"
Fannia warmed to her task. This was the bitch who had taken her beloved
Sextus, robbing her of her best opportunity yet to move up in life from
camp-follower to veteran's wife. She aimed higher. The whip wrapped around
Willowfall's upper back, and the tip snapped against her bound breasts.
Willowfall gasped, but managed not to cry out. She was not going to let
Fannia break her in front of her own people.
"Three!"
As Fannia landed blow after blow, trying to wring a real cry of pain from
Willowfall, Silvanus and I checked the crossbeam that would soon be carrying
Willowfall. The easiest thing would be to lash it to the stipes, supported on
some projecting pegs near the top of the stipes that were left over from when
it had formed part of the siege wall. The bottom of the stipes had a block of
wood still nailed to it, with a sloping top which would make a convenient
footrest for Willowfall's feet. We called Gallus over. He was reluctant to
leave his new blonde friend and her expert attentions, but knew better than to
disobey an order.
"Did you get some nails from the siege-wood?" I asked.
"Yes sir, but they're mostly bent," replied Gallus. He pointed to a pile
of nails he'd left by Sergius's cross.
"Bring them here," I ordered. He obeyed.
Gallus was right, the nails were mostly useless. They were either too bent,
or their tips were broken and too blunt to hammer in to wood again. I
found one, about six inches long and as thick as my little finger,
whose tip was only bent, not broken. I showed it to Silvanus. He had worked
in a smithy at some point before joining the legion.
"Could this be cold-hammered back again?" I asked.
"Depends what kind of iron it is," he said. "If it's well-worked it'll
be all right. Otherwise it'll just break off."
"Give it a try," I said.
Silvanus went off to find a hard piece of wood he could use as an
anvil. Fannia, meanwhile, had reached nineteen strokes and was getting
tired. Willowfall's back, bottom, and legs bore a criss-crossing of red lines
and she was gasping with pain. But she hadn't screamed or begged yet.
Fannia held the whip with two hands, and swung with her full upper-body
strength. "Crack!"
Willowfall's buttocks quivered, and she gave a suppressed yelp.
"Twenty!" shouted the crowd.
Fannia wiped the sweat from her face, and handed the whip back to me.
"I can't wait to see that bitch on the cross!" she snarled.
I untied Willowfall's breasts.
"You didn't break," I murmured to her.
She shook her head, her mouth set in a hard line.
I untied her hands from the stipes, and let her rub her chafed wrists.
I wondered if her pussy was now even wetter than before, but resisted the
temptation to check.
"Time for a last-minute pep-talk," I said.
Silvanus and Gallus brought the shorter stipes, dropped it in to the hole and
held it vertical while the two workers shoveled earth back in around it,
stamping the dirt to make it firm.
The chant broke out again.
"Hang her low! Make it slow! Hang her low! Make it slow!"
This time the whole crowd joined in.
Behind the chanting mob I saw a group of soldiers hurrying towards us along
the road from the army camp. I recognized several of the troops as members of
our company. One of the legionnaires we had talked to in the forum must have
sent word that Sextus had been killed and his murderess was about to be
crucified outside the main gate. Oppius and Titus, regular drinking buddies of
Sextus's, were the first to push their way through to the front, gently
guiding the grief-stricken figure of Fannia, Sextus's self-appointed
fiancee. Fannia's face was redder than usual, and her eyes latched
immediately on to Willowfall.
"Is that her?" she demanded. Before I could speak she anticipated
the answer and scuttled directly towards Willowfall. Oppius and Titus
grabbed her pudgy arms and held her back.
"You killed my Sextus!" wailed Fannia. The crowd murmured with delight.
"Really, sir, it was her?" asked Oppius, appraising Willowfall's slight build.
"With a bow," I explained.
"Shit. How was it?"
"It was quick. She got him in the neck."
"Lucky bitch," said Titus. "She'll ache for it. What now, sir?"
"Scourging, but I didn't bring a whip."
Titus smiled and held up a slave-whip he and Titus had grabbed on their
way out of the camp.
"Good," I said. "Bring her over."
Oppius and Titus took Willowfall from the clean-shaven man and the
skinny beggar and led her over to the stipes.
"No, please, I beg you, not in front of these... people," Willowfall pleaded,
as I yanked at the sleeves of her dress. Oppius and Titus stood, one on each
side, gripping her arms, forcing her to face Fannia and the rest of the
onlookers. Standing behind Willowfall I slowly worked the dress down off her
shoulders. The crowd fell silent in anticipation. Willowfall squirmed in
embarrassment, but that only made it easier to slide the thin cloth over her
smooth skin. She shut her eyes and bowed her head, and her pert little breasts
came in to view. There was a general sigh of appreciation.
"Please," whimpered Willowfall, trying to free her arms from Oppius and
Titus's grip. They fed her hands up through the sleeves, and the dress slipped
all the way to the ground. The men cheered at their rare luck in getting
to see an aristrocratic woman naked. The women sharply evaluated
Willowfall's athletic physique. Gallus and Silvanus watched from the side
where Valeria was writhing and grunting on her cross. She was trying
to find the least painful position on her new sedile, but by moving around
she kept tugging on the nails in her hands, or leaning on the nails that
fixed her feet to the front of the log.
I kicked Willowfall's legs apart and made her stand there, fully exposed.
Many in the crowd fidgeted as they felt their loins stir. Fannia watched
intently. I reached around and kneaded each of Willowfall's breasts, letting
the dangling leather cords dance from her nipples. There was a murmur of
excitement as I slid my right hand down her flat belly. Willowfall met
Gallus's gaze for a moment, then turned her face away. My fingers wormed their
way in to the wiry nest between her legs. She tried to pull her treasure away
but that just caused her to press her firm little buttocks back against me. I
slowly worked my two fingers in to the warmth of her groin, walking them
to and fro to bring forth the lips of her pussy. Willowfall gave a little mewing
moan, and I felt her labia slide easily against each other. The men
grinned. Even Blossom's hard-faced fellow prostitutes exchanged knowing
looks. I continued to roll her pussy lips between my fingers. Willowfall
tensed her buttocks, trapped in the masochist's dilemma. Humiliation, arousal,
greater humiliation...
"The slut likes it!" shouted someone.
One of the prostitutes, a blonde with a tattoo on her neck, sidled over to
Gallus and Silvanus and whispered an offer in their ears.
I gently manipulated Willowfall's pussy lips, letting them pull on her
clit but never touching it directly. She shifted her weight from one side to
the other, at first retreating from my relentless fingers, but gradually her
hips moved with their own mind, involuntarily steering her clit to my
fingertips. Her pussy lips became wet and slipped around uncontrollably
beneath my fingers. Continuing to roll them across her clit with my right
hand, I slid my left hand under her buttocks from behind, letting one finger
work its way very slowly into the gooey slit of her cunt. When I got past a
certain point her body tensed, she cried out, and her pussy suddenly
contracted, forcing my finger out again.
"She sounds like Valeria!" called out one of the men, no doubt a client
of Blossom's defunct brothel. The prostitutes laughed coarsely. Valeria
squirmed impotently on her cross and begged loudly to be taken down, but
no one was paying attention to her, all eyes were on Willowfall.
The clean-shaven man nudged Blossom then pointed to Willowfall and squeaked
"Mummy, what's that lady doing?" in a fake baby voice. Blossom chuckled and
pinched his cheek.
The tattooed blonde whore had her hand under Gallus's tunic. Elsewhere in
the crowd I could see surreptitious rhythmic movements as other prostitutes
found their own opportunities.
I kept rolling Willowfall's labia around. She struggled, but Oppius
and Titus kept a firm hold of her arms. I used my left hand to press two
fingers into her cunt. Just as she was about to have another little spasm, I
withdrew them. She became even more agitated. I stretched the slippery ring
of her butthole with one knuckle. Then I went back to her cunt with three
fingers.
Gallus and the blonde whore came over to stand by Willowfall. The woman, who
was a little taller than Willowfall, with more womanly curves, smiled knowingly
at Willowfall's blushing discomfort.
"The little princess likes being handled by her Roman friend!" she remarked
loudly to the crowd.
"Let's give her some dick before hanging her up!" shouted a man at the back.
"Don't want to waste a well-oiled pussy!" said someone else.
The prostitutes laughed. Willowfall shook her head angrily.
Gallus's arousal beneath his short tunic was obvious to all. The blonde
kept squeezing and jerking his barely hidden dick with her hand. Gallus took
hold of the leather thongs attached to Willowfall's nipple hooks. I felt her
pussy tighten on my fingers.
"Do you think he likes you, sweetie?" sneered the blonde, pumping Gallus's
dick faster. Oppius and Titus held Willowfall firmly in place as Gallus pulled
on the nipple hooks, stretching Willowfall's breasts out towards his armored
chest. He looked in to her eyes, and twisted the hooks.
A cry of heartfelt pain broke from Willowfall's lips.
Gallus released Willowfall's breasts, and ran his fingers down the side of
her face. He stroked the soft line of her jaw. Willowfall's lips quivered.
She looked as if she might start crying, but managed a brave smile. Gallus
smiled back, then leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.
The blonde whore rolled her eyes, and pulled Gallus away. Then she turned
back to Willowfall.
"Your cross-dance is going to make him big and hard for me!" she hissed.
I felt an overwhelming urge to push Willowfall to her knees and take her
right there, in front of the crowd. I could imagine their delight at seeing
one of their own high-class ladies thrashing around on her knees in the dirt
as a brutal legionnaire filled her orifices with Roman seed. But my sense of
duty managed to suppress these improper urges. I gestured to Oppius and
Silvanus and they pulled Willowfall over to the stipes. Her legs were thin
but nicely muscled. I stood on the other side so that Willowfall and I were
face to face, the stipes between us. I pulled her towards me, and her breasts
nestled one against each side of the vertical beam, then I took the leather
cords dangling from her nipple-hooks, and tied them together, so she could not
pull back from the stipes. As I knotted the cords I pulled them until her
little breasts wrapped around the stipes and pressed tight against each other,
nipple to nipple. She gasped in pain. I stroked away the hair that was stuck
to her face. Again I struggled to suppress the urge to take her right there.
Fantasies crossed my mind of having her as my own slave, to enjoy whenever I
liked. As Oppius and Titus tied Willowfall's hands to the stipes above her
head, I stepped back and called Fannia over. I handed her the whip.
"Can I whip her?" asked Fannia, in disbelief.
"She's all yours."
Fannia swung the whip inexpertly, and almost hit Oppius. The crowd
laughed. Fannia's face reddened a little, and as Oppius retreated
she swung again.
There was a "crack!" and a red line appeared across Willowfall's buttocks.
"One!" shouted the crowd.
Willowfall squealed and looked around. She was horrified to realize that Fannia
was wielding the whip. Being publicly whipped by a Roman camp-whore, in
front of her own cityfolk...
Fannia landed another blow across Willowfall's bottom.
"Two!"
Fannia warmed to her task. This was the bitch who had taken her beloved
Sextus, robbing her of her best opportunity yet to move up in life from
camp-follower to veteran's wife. She aimed higher. The whip wrapped around
Willowfall's upper back, and the tip snapped against her bound breasts.
Willowfall gasped, but managed not to cry out. She was not going to let
Fannia break her in front of her own people.
"Three!"
As Fannia landed blow after blow, trying to wring a real cry of pain from
Willowfall, Silvanus and I checked the crossbeam that would soon be carrying
Willowfall. The easiest thing would be to lash it to the stipes, supported on
some projecting pegs near the top of the stipes that were left over from when
it had formed part of the siege wall. The bottom of the stipes had a block of
wood still nailed to it, with a sloping top which would make a convenient
footrest for Willowfall's feet. We called Gallus over. He was reluctant to
leave his new blonde friend and her expert attentions, but knew better than to
disobey an order.
"Did you get some nails from the siege-wood?" I asked.
"Yes sir, but they're mostly bent," replied Gallus. He pointed to a pile
of nails he'd left by Sergius's cross.
"Bring them here," I ordered. He obeyed.
Gallus was right, the nails were mostly useless. They were either too bent,
or their tips were broken and too blunt to hammer in to wood again. I
found one, about six inches long and as thick as my little finger,
whose tip was only bent, not broken. I showed it to Silvanus. He had worked
in a smithy at some point before joining the legion.
"Could this be cold-hammered back again?" I asked.
"Depends what kind of iron it is," he said. "If it's well-worked it'll
be all right. Otherwise it'll just break off."
"Give it a try," I said.
Silvanus went off to find a hard piece of wood he could use as an
anvil. Fannia, meanwhile, had reached nineteen strokes and was getting
tired. Willowfall's back, bottom, and legs bore a criss-crossing of red lines
and she was gasping with pain. But she hadn't screamed or begged yet.
Fannia held the whip with two hands, and swung with her full upper-body
strength. "Crack!"
Willowfall's buttocks quivered, and she gave a suppressed yelp.
"Twenty!" shouted the crowd.
Fannia wiped the sweat from her face, and handed the whip back to me.
"I can't wait to see that bitch on the cross!" she snarled.
I untied Willowfall's breasts.
"You didn't break," I murmured to her.
She shook her head, her mouth set in a hard line.
I untied her hands from the stipes, and let her rub her chafed wrists.
I wondered if her pussy was now even wetter than before, but resisted the
temptation to check.
"Time for a last-minute pep-talk," I said.
willowfall
Senator
Yes, I'm wet, very very wet.
kisses
willowfall
kisses
willowfall
cruxlover
Tribune
You dirty slut - you deserve to be stripped and whipped.
Naraku
Draconarius
I think that'll just make her wetter.You dirty slut - you deserve to be stripped and whipped.
But, let's do it anyway. Just to be sure.
Hangnail
Tribune
Willowfall Captured (9), by Hangnail
Silvanus strode over to me, and slipped the nail in to my hand, its tip
sharp and straight.
"Fixed it!" he said.
He and I led Willowfall over to the patibulum that lay on the ground. The
people pushed forward, and Oppius and Titus and some of the other legionnaires
waved their swords at them to keep the area clear.
"Have you seen a crucifixion being done?" I asked Willowfall.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Of a woman?"
She paused, then mumbled "Yes."
"Did you see them hammer the nails through her hands and feet?"
"Yes," she said, tears rising in her brown eyes. Instinctively she clasped
her hands and drew them protectively to her body.
"Could you imagine what she felt? When they raised the cross and she first
hung by all her weight on the nails?"
Willowfall shook her head.
"You're in luck!" I said brightly. "We only have one nail!"
I showed it to her. Six inches of rough metal, about half an inch across.
"Maybe the Gods favor your fighting spirit," I said, "But they do not
deny my murdered friend Sextus his revenge. I shall make good use of this
nail."
"Take her down!" I commanded. Silvanus and Oppius grabbed Willowfall's
thin brown arms, and pulled her down on her back. The patibulum was on
the ground just above her head. She twisted her head around to see what
was coming. I pulled one end of the patibulum under her right hand, and
positioned her hand a few feet from the center. Then I took a three foot
length of rope and wound it around her wrist and the patibulum, tightening
it after every turn. I finished it off with a square knot. She clenched and
unclenched her fist, but her hand was securely held by the rope. As I moved
across to her other hand, an ugly murmur arose from the crowd.
"Why doesn't she get nailed like the others?"
"You gonna give her a soft cushion too?"
Valeria, through the haze of her own agony, saw what was going on.
"She killed a Roman soldier! I only took some money, why do I get
all nailed?"
"I thought you liked getting nailed!" joked one of the men.
"She did when she was being paid, only it wasn't enough for her!"
Blossom's friends giggled.
"Fuck you all!" Valeria cursed, so vehemently that she almost slipped off
her post. She howled at the fresh bursh of pain from jerking on her nailed
wrists. Her big breasts with their large pale nipples bounced enticingly.
"I should be tied! Thieves get tied!" she moaned.
"But fat slags get nailed!" sneered Blossom.
Valeria hung her head in defeat.
I finished tying Willowfall's left hand to the patibulum, and stood up before
the crowd.
"The Gods decree that Willowfall, the murderer of Sextus of Contubernium
nine, must be punished acording to Roman law!" I declaimed. There was general
nodding.
"To lengthen her torment, and make sure her delicate body does not deliver
her to the mercy of a quick death, the Gods have given us one nail for
Princess Willowfall. We will show them that we know how to use it!"
There was some discontented muttering. The prostitutes in the crowd,
sensing what outcome would most benefit them, whispered calming words
in the ears of their clients. Then one of them called out "Up with
Princess Willowfall!"
There was quick burst of laughter from Blossom and her friends, then it spread
through the crowd.
"Up with Princess Willowfall! Up with Princess Willowfall!"
I nodded to Silvanus and Oppius. They each took one end of the patibulum and
lifted it off the ground and up to their shoulders. Willowfall found herself
standing upright, her arms stretched out on the rough wood, facing the
crowd. Her breasts were lifted, her nipples brown and alert. Silvanus and
Oppius pulled the crossbeam back a few steps so her back was against the stipes.
Gallus, tall enough to reach the top of the stipes without a ladder, stood
behind it, ready to help.
The chant grew fierce, "Up with Princess Willowfall! Up with Princess
Willowfall!"
"On the count of three," I said. Willowfall's legs were shaking.
"One!"
She glanced up at the stipes, which stood only a foot taller then her.
She tried to ignore the pitiless crowd, roaring for her humiliating raising on
the cross.
"Two!"
She looked down at the ground, her only supportive friend, knowing she
was about to leave it forever.
"Three!"
Silvanus and Oppius lifted the ends of the patibulum above their heads.
Willowfall's arms straightened out in to a flat V shape, and she tottered on
tiptoe. They steered the patibulum up against the stipes. Willowfall's heels
bumped in to the six-inch high block that was attached to the base of the
stipes.
"Up with Princess Willowfall! Up with Princess Willowfall!"
With a final effort, Silvanus and Oppius lifted the patibulum as high as
they could reach, letting it rest on the pegs protruding from the
top. Willowfall's breasts bounced and the cords attached to her nipples danced
as she was jerked upwards. Her feet kicked briefly in the air, then she
managed to get them on to the downward-sloping top of the block. Her back was
slightly arched, her tight little buttocks were pressed against the stipes.
Gallus quickly looped a rope around the patibulum and stipes a few times then
tied it off. The patibulum was nicely horizontal.
Willowfall tried to save her arms from having to carry her full weight, and
pushed down with her feet on the block, but the sloping top made this
difficult. Her feet slowly slipped down until only her heels were on the
block, her feet pointed downwards, toes in midair only a few inches off the
ground. She looked down between her breasts at her straining legs. Perhaps
the soles of her feet were sweating, because suddenly her heels slipped off
the block. Her arms jerked straight and she cried out. For a moment she hung
by her arms, her feet sinking in to the freshly-dug earth, then she pulled up
her knees and got her feet back on the top of the block. She started to put
weight on them until they began to slip down again, then she had to
stop, with most of her weight still carried by her taut arms. Willowfall looked
up, and saw a sea of faces greedy for her pain.
Silvanus handed me a hammer. I already had the nail ready. I stepped
forward and knelt on the ground, like a worshiper in front of an image
of his goddess. I looked up past Willowfall's slightly bent knees to her
breasts rising and falling with her quick breaths, her ribs clearly
outlined, her arms outstretched as if blessing the crowd. Gallus
knelt down behind the cross, reached around, and took one of her thin ankles
in each hand. He lifted her right foot on top of her left, and held them in
that position.
Willowfall looked down at me, her face furrowed with fear, as I checked the
alignment of the optimal nailing points of top and bottom foot. Her feet were
now dusty and battered by the morning's walking, but her toenails were
perfectly trimmed, and beneath a superficial layer of grime the skin was as
soft and white as a young girl's, with none of the ground-in dirt, calluses
and corns that marked the feet of working women. I brushed the dirt off her
feet, and squeezed her toes, playing with them like a doting mother.
Then I carefully placed the nail where the bones of her right foot first
divided in to separate tarsals. The tip pressed on the soft spot, dimpling
her skin. I heard her sharp intake of breath. I raised the hammer. Willowfall
struggled to pull her feet away, but Gallus's grip on her ankles was too
strong.
"No!" she cried.
Gallus tightened his grip, and I brought the hammer down hard on the
nailhead. The nail's point bit through the soft flesh of both feet, and buried
itself in the wood of the block beneath.
"Aaaaaie!"
Willowfall screamed, for the first time. She tried to draw her wounded feet
up to her body, and her whole weight pulled on her outstetched arms. She hung
there twisting, head back against the stipes. I wondered if she would piss
on me. I hoped she would.
Three inches of nail still protruded from the top of Willowfall's right foot.
Blood welled up around the impaling nail. I hammered it twice more, not
too hard. The visible shaft shrank by half an inch each time.
"Ow, no, aaah, please, Isis, No!" shrieked Willowfall, her legs opening
and closing, body jerking up and down on her tight-stretched arms. Her gaze
swept wildly across the crowd, as if hoping to find sympathy.
"She is calling out to Isis to save her!" laughed Andronicus, his
one good eye fixed on Willowfall's writhing body.
Gallus released Willowfall's ankles and came around to the front to
enjoy the spectacle.
I called Fannia over. She had been hoping for this. I handed her the
hammer. Fannia hefted the hammer theatrically for the crowd. Applause broke
out. Willowfall saw what was happening and realized the nailing was not
finished. She shook her head, drops of sweat sliding down her forehead.
"Fannia," she pleaded.
Fannia looked up at Willowfall's anguished but still beautiful face.
A slow smile came to her lips. She knelt in front of the cross, her
eyes locked with Willowfall's. She felt for the protruding nailhead with
her left hand, slid her thumb down the shaft, and pressed hard on the
bruised flesh around the puncture wound. Willowfall screamed.
Fannia droped the hammer, and took hold of Willowfall's heels. Still looking
up at Willowfall, she pulled them apart, twisting Willowfall's feet in
opposite directions on the axis of the nail.
"Aiiiiie! Please, Fannia!" screeched Willowfall, swinging from her
cruelly stretched arms.
Blood was now dripping down the wooden block, coming from underneath
Willowfall's feet.
Fannia pulled up on Willowfall's feet, until they slid up to the top of
the nail, stopped by its head. Willowfall whimpered. Pressing on the
wounded area around the nail, Fannina pushed them down to rest again
on the block. Willowfall twisted and cried out. Fannia repeated the
motion, pulling up and pressing down, so that Willowfall's feet slid
up and down the nail shaft, fucking the nail with the holes in her feet.
The audience laughed merrily at this. Willowfall writhed and screamed
as her fresh wounds rode up and down the the rough nail.
Finally satisfied that she had avenged her failure to break Willowfall with
the whip, Fannia let go of Willowfall's feet, picked up the hammer again, and
tapped the nailhead. There was a muted "clunk". She hit it harder, making a
louder sound. Willowfall hung, shuddering, unable to tear her eyes away from
the nail that was now the focus of her whole world of pain.
Fannia brought the hammer down with force. The nail drove another half inch
into the wood. Willowfall gave a choking sob, and hung there with tears
wetting her cheeks. Fannia methodically hammered the nail all the way in, then
stood up and turned as if to give me the hammer. A thought seemed to
cross her angry little mind. She lifted the hammer to Willowfall's breasts,
and quickly wrapped it in the cords that still hung from the hooks through
Willowfall's nipples. She tied off the ends and slowly lowered the hammer,
ignoring Willowfall's desperate pleas, until the full weight of the hammer
hung from Willowfall's breasts. Fannia stepped back and we all admired her
work.
Willowfall hung by her arms, her thin wrists bound to the patibulum by coils
of coarse rope. Her knees were bent, and her body shook with sobs of pain.
The hammer swung in front of her belly, dragging relentlessly on her pierced
nipples. Her legs shifted slightly as she tried to keep her hanging body from
pulling or pushing with even the slightest force on her impaled feet. Tears
dripped from her cheeks, and blood dripped from her toes. Willowfall's struggle
with the cross had begun.
Silvanus strode over to me, and slipped the nail in to my hand, its tip
sharp and straight.
"Fixed it!" he said.
He and I led Willowfall over to the patibulum that lay on the ground. The
people pushed forward, and Oppius and Titus and some of the other legionnaires
waved their swords at them to keep the area clear.
"Have you seen a crucifixion being done?" I asked Willowfall.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Of a woman?"
She paused, then mumbled "Yes."
"Did you see them hammer the nails through her hands and feet?"
"Yes," she said, tears rising in her brown eyes. Instinctively she clasped
her hands and drew them protectively to her body.
"Could you imagine what she felt? When they raised the cross and she first
hung by all her weight on the nails?"
Willowfall shook her head.
"You're in luck!" I said brightly. "We only have one nail!"
I showed it to her. Six inches of rough metal, about half an inch across.
"Maybe the Gods favor your fighting spirit," I said, "But they do not
deny my murdered friend Sextus his revenge. I shall make good use of this
nail."
"Take her down!" I commanded. Silvanus and Oppius grabbed Willowfall's
thin brown arms, and pulled her down on her back. The patibulum was on
the ground just above her head. She twisted her head around to see what
was coming. I pulled one end of the patibulum under her right hand, and
positioned her hand a few feet from the center. Then I took a three foot
length of rope and wound it around her wrist and the patibulum, tightening
it after every turn. I finished it off with a square knot. She clenched and
unclenched her fist, but her hand was securely held by the rope. As I moved
across to her other hand, an ugly murmur arose from the crowd.
"Why doesn't she get nailed like the others?"
"You gonna give her a soft cushion too?"
Valeria, through the haze of her own agony, saw what was going on.
"She killed a Roman soldier! I only took some money, why do I get
all nailed?"
"I thought you liked getting nailed!" joked one of the men.
"She did when she was being paid, only it wasn't enough for her!"
Blossom's friends giggled.
"Fuck you all!" Valeria cursed, so vehemently that she almost slipped off
her post. She howled at the fresh bursh of pain from jerking on her nailed
wrists. Her big breasts with their large pale nipples bounced enticingly.
"I should be tied! Thieves get tied!" she moaned.
"But fat slags get nailed!" sneered Blossom.
Valeria hung her head in defeat.
I finished tying Willowfall's left hand to the patibulum, and stood up before
the crowd.
"The Gods decree that Willowfall, the murderer of Sextus of Contubernium
nine, must be punished acording to Roman law!" I declaimed. There was general
nodding.
"To lengthen her torment, and make sure her delicate body does not deliver
her to the mercy of a quick death, the Gods have given us one nail for
Princess Willowfall. We will show them that we know how to use it!"
There was some discontented muttering. The prostitutes in the crowd,
sensing what outcome would most benefit them, whispered calming words
in the ears of their clients. Then one of them called out "Up with
Princess Willowfall!"
There was quick burst of laughter from Blossom and her friends, then it spread
through the crowd.
"Up with Princess Willowfall! Up with Princess Willowfall!"
I nodded to Silvanus and Oppius. They each took one end of the patibulum and
lifted it off the ground and up to their shoulders. Willowfall found herself
standing upright, her arms stretched out on the rough wood, facing the
crowd. Her breasts were lifted, her nipples brown and alert. Silvanus and
Oppius pulled the crossbeam back a few steps so her back was against the stipes.
Gallus, tall enough to reach the top of the stipes without a ladder, stood
behind it, ready to help.
The chant grew fierce, "Up with Princess Willowfall! Up with Princess
Willowfall!"
"On the count of three," I said. Willowfall's legs were shaking.
"One!"
She glanced up at the stipes, which stood only a foot taller then her.
She tried to ignore the pitiless crowd, roaring for her humiliating raising on
the cross.
"Two!"
She looked down at the ground, her only supportive friend, knowing she
was about to leave it forever.
"Three!"
Silvanus and Oppius lifted the ends of the patibulum above their heads.
Willowfall's arms straightened out in to a flat V shape, and she tottered on
tiptoe. They steered the patibulum up against the stipes. Willowfall's heels
bumped in to the six-inch high block that was attached to the base of the
stipes.
"Up with Princess Willowfall! Up with Princess Willowfall!"
With a final effort, Silvanus and Oppius lifted the patibulum as high as
they could reach, letting it rest on the pegs protruding from the
top. Willowfall's breasts bounced and the cords attached to her nipples danced
as she was jerked upwards. Her feet kicked briefly in the air, then she
managed to get them on to the downward-sloping top of the block. Her back was
slightly arched, her tight little buttocks were pressed against the stipes.
Gallus quickly looped a rope around the patibulum and stipes a few times then
tied it off. The patibulum was nicely horizontal.
Willowfall tried to save her arms from having to carry her full weight, and
pushed down with her feet on the block, but the sloping top made this
difficult. Her feet slowly slipped down until only her heels were on the
block, her feet pointed downwards, toes in midair only a few inches off the
ground. She looked down between her breasts at her straining legs. Perhaps
the soles of her feet were sweating, because suddenly her heels slipped off
the block. Her arms jerked straight and she cried out. For a moment she hung
by her arms, her feet sinking in to the freshly-dug earth, then she pulled up
her knees and got her feet back on the top of the block. She started to put
weight on them until they began to slip down again, then she had to
stop, with most of her weight still carried by her taut arms. Willowfall looked
up, and saw a sea of faces greedy for her pain.
Silvanus handed me a hammer. I already had the nail ready. I stepped
forward and knelt on the ground, like a worshiper in front of an image
of his goddess. I looked up past Willowfall's slightly bent knees to her
breasts rising and falling with her quick breaths, her ribs clearly
outlined, her arms outstretched as if blessing the crowd. Gallus
knelt down behind the cross, reached around, and took one of her thin ankles
in each hand. He lifted her right foot on top of her left, and held them in
that position.
Willowfall looked down at me, her face furrowed with fear, as I checked the
alignment of the optimal nailing points of top and bottom foot. Her feet were
now dusty and battered by the morning's walking, but her toenails were
perfectly trimmed, and beneath a superficial layer of grime the skin was as
soft and white as a young girl's, with none of the ground-in dirt, calluses
and corns that marked the feet of working women. I brushed the dirt off her
feet, and squeezed her toes, playing with them like a doting mother.
Then I carefully placed the nail where the bones of her right foot first
divided in to separate tarsals. The tip pressed on the soft spot, dimpling
her skin. I heard her sharp intake of breath. I raised the hammer. Willowfall
struggled to pull her feet away, but Gallus's grip on her ankles was too
strong.
"No!" she cried.
Gallus tightened his grip, and I brought the hammer down hard on the
nailhead. The nail's point bit through the soft flesh of both feet, and buried
itself in the wood of the block beneath.
"Aaaaaie!"
Willowfall screamed, for the first time. She tried to draw her wounded feet
up to her body, and her whole weight pulled on her outstetched arms. She hung
there twisting, head back against the stipes. I wondered if she would piss
on me. I hoped she would.
Three inches of nail still protruded from the top of Willowfall's right foot.
Blood welled up around the impaling nail. I hammered it twice more, not
too hard. The visible shaft shrank by half an inch each time.
"Ow, no, aaah, please, Isis, No!" shrieked Willowfall, her legs opening
and closing, body jerking up and down on her tight-stretched arms. Her gaze
swept wildly across the crowd, as if hoping to find sympathy.
"She is calling out to Isis to save her!" laughed Andronicus, his
one good eye fixed on Willowfall's writhing body.
Gallus released Willowfall's ankles and came around to the front to
enjoy the spectacle.
I called Fannia over. She had been hoping for this. I handed her the
hammer. Fannia hefted the hammer theatrically for the crowd. Applause broke
out. Willowfall saw what was happening and realized the nailing was not
finished. She shook her head, drops of sweat sliding down her forehead.
"Fannia," she pleaded.
Fannia looked up at Willowfall's anguished but still beautiful face.
A slow smile came to her lips. She knelt in front of the cross, her
eyes locked with Willowfall's. She felt for the protruding nailhead with
her left hand, slid her thumb down the shaft, and pressed hard on the
bruised flesh around the puncture wound. Willowfall screamed.
Fannia droped the hammer, and took hold of Willowfall's heels. Still looking
up at Willowfall, she pulled them apart, twisting Willowfall's feet in
opposite directions on the axis of the nail.
"Aiiiiie! Please, Fannia!" screeched Willowfall, swinging from her
cruelly stretched arms.
Blood was now dripping down the wooden block, coming from underneath
Willowfall's feet.
Fannia pulled up on Willowfall's feet, until they slid up to the top of
the nail, stopped by its head. Willowfall whimpered. Pressing on the
wounded area around the nail, Fannina pushed them down to rest again
on the block. Willowfall twisted and cried out. Fannia repeated the
motion, pulling up and pressing down, so that Willowfall's feet slid
up and down the nail shaft, fucking the nail with the holes in her feet.
The audience laughed merrily at this. Willowfall writhed and screamed
as her fresh wounds rode up and down the the rough nail.
Finally satisfied that she had avenged her failure to break Willowfall with
the whip, Fannia let go of Willowfall's feet, picked up the hammer again, and
tapped the nailhead. There was a muted "clunk". She hit it harder, making a
louder sound. Willowfall hung, shuddering, unable to tear her eyes away from
the nail that was now the focus of her whole world of pain.
Fannia brought the hammer down with force. The nail drove another half inch
into the wood. Willowfall gave a choking sob, and hung there with tears
wetting her cheeks. Fannia methodically hammered the nail all the way in, then
stood up and turned as if to give me the hammer. A thought seemed to
cross her angry little mind. She lifted the hammer to Willowfall's breasts,
and quickly wrapped it in the cords that still hung from the hooks through
Willowfall's nipples. She tied off the ends and slowly lowered the hammer,
ignoring Willowfall's desperate pleas, until the full weight of the hammer
hung from Willowfall's breasts. Fannia stepped back and we all admired her
work.
Willowfall hung by her arms, her thin wrists bound to the patibulum by coils
of coarse rope. Her knees were bent, and her body shook with sobs of pain.
The hammer swung in front of her belly, dragging relentlessly on her pierced
nipples. Her legs shifted slightly as she tried to keep her hanging body from
pulling or pushing with even the slightest force on her impaled feet. Tears
dripped from her cheeks, and blood dripped from her toes. Willowfall's struggle
with the cross had begun.
Hangnail
Tribune
Willowfall Captured (10), by Hangnail
The three crosses dangled their writhing burdens before the crowd. Many
onlookers, especially the women, took pleasure in Sergius's bunching
muscles under sweat-glistening skin. Others savored Valeria's voluptuous
squirming. But Willowfall was the new attraction. Men craned and jostled to
view her whole body as she hung by her taut arms, knees a little bent, her
body hardly moving except for the breathing palpitations of her belly. Her
head dipped forward, as if she were examining the single nail that pinned her
bare feet to the footrest. I imagined her view of her own naked body, and
felt a tremor of excitement.
The crowd grew quieter, sensing the struggle between Willowfall's soft body
and the hard cross. The cross would never shift, struggle, or cry. It would
never show leniency or impatience. The cross was a perfect ruler over its
subject, and the people were in its thrall. They waited with tense excitement
for the cross's first victory.
Willowfall looked up at her left hand, lashed to the crossbeam. She flexed
her fingers. I had secured her with many coils of rope to spread the pressure
over a good length of her wrist, so her hands were not starved of blood, and
she was still able to move them and feel the tightness of the rope. Her
weight hung by her well-stretched arms, as she protected her injured feet from
exerting any pressure on the nail. She tried to flex her arms, to relieve the
growing stress in them. Her breathing grew faster. She twisted her hips from
side to side and looked at her neighbors toiling on their own crosses. The
need to move was growing unbearable. The cross overshadowed her, patient,
unyielding. The crowd could see in her face the growing realization that the
strain in her arms and shoulders would not let her stay low on the cross.
She began to shift her legs, gingerly at first, testing the tenderness of
her punctured feet against the rack-like strain on her upper body. Little
gasps and moans escaped her lips as the competition of agonies grew more
intense. She pulled herself up by the arms, and managed to stay up for less
then a minute before her biceps started quivering and she slid back down, the
hammer swinging from her breasts. Soon she was driven to try again, and moaned
with frustration as her arms gave out after only half the time they had
managed before. Her thigh muscles tensed with her desire to raise herself, but
lost their strength as her feet felt the bite of the nail.
The hole for Willowfall's cross had not been dug as deep as I would have
liked, so the top of her stipes was higher than expected: her breasts were at
about head height for the spectators, and her tortured face was visible from
the back of the crowd, who stood three or four deep in a semicircle in front
of the crosses. Several of them shouted encouragement to her to try again.
Shaking her head, whether from pain or with anger at their cruelty, Willowfall
slowly hauled herself up again by arm-strength. Her lovely face was distorted
with the effort, her eyes closed tight. The crowd began to count the seconds
that her head stayed level with her hands.
"One! Two! Three!"
"Hang in there your highness!"
"She'll be hangin' again soon!"
"Four! Five! Six!"
Willowfall's arms shook uncontrollably.
"Seven! Eight! Ooooooh!"
Willowfall sank down so quickly that her weight jerked on her weakened arms.
She gave a short cry, and the crowd clapped and laughed with each other,
remarking that she probably now wished that she'd developed some arm-strength
by carrying her own buckets of hot bath-water around the palace.
Willowfall spread her knees apart and looked down between them at the
black nailhead sprouting from the bloody top of her right foot. She
wriggled her toes, and her mouth tightened with the pain of even that slight
movement. She endured the strain in her arms and shoulders for another minute,
tossing her head. The crowd's excitement grew. When the agony became
unbearable, she started to straighten her legs, then quickly drew back as the
nail bit into her violated feet.
The crowd was drunk with glee at her cruel predicament.
"Stand on the nail, bitch!" shouted a dark-faced beggar in the front row,
reveling in his power over a noblewoman. Only a week or two ago, women such as
Willowfall would have had their servants beat him into the gutter for coming
as close to her as he was now.
"Stand on the nail!" repeated a few others. Others joined in.
"Stand on the nail! Stand on the nail!"
"You know you want to!" added the clean-shaven man, his arm around
Blossom's shoulders as her hand slid inside his tunic.
Others in the crowd were letting their excitement get the better of them.
Several of the prostitutes had lifted their skirts and were rolling their
buttocks against the groins of men behind them. Coins quietly changed hands.
I saw several men using their own hands rather than pay for the pleasuring.
Willowfall could see it all too from her elevated place, but the humiliation
of being a spectacle for the pleasure of beggars and whores was overwhelmed by
the realization that she had to do as they told her, and stand on the nail.
She writhed in the low position for a minute longer, but the relentless
stretching of her upper body continually racheted the pain beyond her ability
to bear. She bore down on the footrest for a few seconds, then screamed in
frustration at the bursting agony in her impaled feet. She slipped
down to hang again by her arms, but was soon forced to grind her feet down
against the nail once more. Her feet twisted on the nail as she bore more
weight on her legs. Her cries rose to screams of agony.
Fannia was in the center of the front row. Silvanus stood right beside
her. I noticed that his arm was around her shoulders. Fannia's eyes drank in
Willowfall's exposure and agony. Next to them stood the tall blonde whore
with the tattoo on her neck. Her skirt was piled up at the back and Gallus
was thrusting his groin against her athletic rump. Both of them had their eyes
fixed on Willowfall. Gallus thrusted in a slow rhythm, openly fucking the
whore. She uninhibitedly pleasured herself, one hand inside the front
waistband of her skirt. Several men in the crowd rolled down their dirty
breeches and waved impressively large erections.
Willowfall's screams ended in a choking gasp and her body slid down to the
full stretch of her arms. She regained her awareness of the crowd, and saw the
shameless displays of sexual enjoyment of her humiliation. She stared in
disbelief and disgust, until the rigor in her arms turned her awareness inward
again. She whimpered with the realization that she must soon stand again on
the nail in her feet. I realized that my own erection was so large that there
was a blatant bulge in the front of my tunic. I tried to push it sideways to
make it less obvious to the crowd. I still wished to retain some of the
dignity of a Roman officer. But Willowfall's dignity lay discarded in the
pathetic wisp of her dress left on the ground at the base of her cross. She
writhed in miserable nakedness, in preparation for her next bout of
self-torture.
Gallus, overcome with arousal at Willowfall's predicament, slammed his dick
with extra force in to his blonde companion, and she staggered forward a few
steps. Gallus followed her, keeping his dick well-embedded in her cunt. She
put out her hands to stop herself, and they came to rest on Willowfall's
thighs. Willowfall gasped with surprise and pain as the whore's weight was
transmitted through Willowfall's legs to the nail wound in her feet. The
blonde gripped Willowfall's thighs and began pushing back against Gallus,
matching his own fierce rhythm. Willowfall cried out as the roughness of
their coupling shook her body. Gallus reached over the blonde's head and held
on to Willowfall's arms, using her like an athlete's wall-bar while he fucked
the blonde who was now sandwiched between Gallus and Willowfall.
"Stop it!" cried Willowfall, looking directly in to Gallus's face. He
caressed her cheek but continued to slam his dick into the blonde's pussy,
indirectly causing Willowfall's body to jerk and bounce against the stipes.
"No, Gallus, please!" Willowfall howled, as the movements of her body pulled
her feet aginst their pinioning nail. The blonde, finding the hammer
hanging from Willowfall's breasts uncomfortable, untangled it from the
cords and tossed it aside. She took one of Willowfall's nipples in her
mouth, but felt the sharp tip of the fish-hook and drew back. She
decided to torture Willowfall with words instead.
"Hey princess, is this the Roman dick you wanted?"
Willowfall screwed up her face and tried to turn away.
"He's so big and hard for me, Princess!"
"Don't talk like that!" cried Willowfall.
Gallus smiled and kept up a steady pace of fucking.
"Oooh, you're on the cross in front of everyone!" cooed the blonde.
"Get away from me!" groaned Willowfall.
The blonde hung on to Willowfall's shoulder with one hand, and
the other one burrowed in to Willowfall's groin.
"No!" screamed Willowfall.
The blonde slipped two fingers in to Willowfall's pussy and finger-fucked her
with an insistent rhythm that matched Gallus's fucking of her own pussy.
"Yes, yes!" moaned the blonde, her other hand frantically working her own
pussy. "I'm fucking you for him. Poor little crucified bitch your pussy is so
tight I'm fucking you for him, ohhhhhhhh!" Willowfall's whimperings were lost
beneath the exultant cries of the blonde whore's minute-long orgasm. Gallus
followed it quickly with his own.
I stayed with Silvanus in front of Willowfall's cross, but ordered all the
other Roman troops to fall back to the road. I told Oppius and Gallus to go
back to the camp, taking the cart with them, and notify our superior officers
that we were on crucifixion guard detail, and to return with either orders to
move out or supplies to allow us to stay. Gallus reluctantly left his new
blonde friend. Fannia stayed with Silvanus and me. Valeria and Sergius cried
out to us, begging us to protect them as the soldiers moved away and the crowd
closed in on their crosses. Blossom coaxed some more coins out of the
clean-shaven man, whereupon he joined Blossom and two of her friends in
teasing Valeria, calling her a crybaby and moan-a-lot. One of the girls
flipped the clean-shaven man's penis into view and stroked it to keep it hard,
while Blossom used her fingers to open up Valeria's pussy lips. Valeria
struggled and cursed but could not wriggle away from Blossom's attentions
without falling off her sedile. Some of the other prostitutes gathered around
Sergius. They taunted him, telling him his suffering was just retribution for
the sadistic acts he had forced on them when he was Valeria's rich
boyfriend. He struggled impotently on his nails in front of them.
Many men, and a few women, stayed in front of Willowfall, getting as close
as we would allow them. She was an arresting sight. Her smooth light-toned
skin shone in the morning sun with a sheen of sweat. Her lovely body twisted
and strained, torn between the two competing agonies that her cross allowed
her. Each time she put real weight on her feet, her toes fanned out and
twitched and new rivulets of blood disappeared in to the dark earth. Fannia
and Silvanus and I were so close that we could smell her sweat and blood. I
wanted to reach out and feel the shuddering hardness of her muscles.
As her agony grew, Willowfall battled the urge to beg the plebian crowd for
mercy, or allow coarse words to cross her lips. When hanging low she spoke
urgently to us, quietly begging Fannia, woman to woman, for mercy. Fannia
responded with ironic compliments on her lean body and its attractive
posture on the cross. Silvanus joined in, asking Willowfall if she wanted to
swap with Valeria, who had a sedile but was fully nailed. Willowfall began to
weep. Each time she thought the vileness of being on the cross had reached its
peak, it grew worse. She pleaded with Silvanus and me to take her down and use
her however we pleased. We asked if she wanted a quick death but she was able
to decline. I wondered how long she could maintain her ladylike restraint.
Leaving Silvanus and Fannia to continue taunting Willowfall, I went over to
see how Sergius was doing. The prostitutes he had abused were now devils in
his own hell, delighting in his grimacing face and shaking body. He was past
the initial phase of constant cursing and yelling, and was hanging low,
breathing in short gasps. Two of them were standing directly in front of him,
one positioning the sharp pin of her broach by his groin, while the other
grasped his sweat-soaked hair and lifted his face off his chest. He stared
vacantly at her. With the little breath left in each refilling of his lungs,
he rasped out some barely intelligible curses. Her friend gleefully pinned
her broach to his dangling penis. Sergius immediately bellowed and shuddered,
sending them scampering to a safe distance where they giggled and pointed at
the amber broach now firmly attached to his glans. They danced in close to him
and then fled like children running from waves at the seaside, laughingly
daring each other to retrieve the swinging broach.
On the other side of Willowfall, Blossom had lubricated Valeria's pussy lips
with her own saliva-slicked fingers and was guiding the clean-shaven man's
sizeable dick in to it. Valeria turned her face from side to side as the man
massaged her large pale breasts and clamped her pink nipples between his
fingers. His hands seemed too clean to be those of a slave. I suspected he
was a citizen who had escaped our purge of the male population, and had been
slipping out of the city when he was trapped by the arresting scene of the
three crosses.
"Oh, sir, that's so big," gasped Valeria, falling back on her prostitute's
instincts, "I want to take it in my mouth, please get me off this cross so I
can suck it for you!"
The man laughed cruelly. "I'll fuck you right there, trollop. I want
to feel your pussy throb as I give you something to take your mind off
those nails!"
"I want it in my ass too," moaned Valeria, in desperation. Grovelling
on her hands and knees with a huge dick in her ass would be heaven compared
to the stretched-out agony of her crucifixion.
The man chuckled and inched his dick in to Valeria's pussy. From her own
cross, Willowfall heard Valeria's words and despaired at the thought that the
cross would soon bring her to equally humiliating desperation for relief.
As Willowfall watched, the clean-shaven man gripped Valeria's ample breasts
and began thrusting, sending waves undulating across her soft belly, and
wringing erotic cries from her as her pinned limbs jerked against the
immovable nails. Seeing another woman enduring such suffering, even one who
had angrily condemned her to the same fate, brought tears to Willowfall's
eyes, until her own body's urgent need for relief brought her back to the
struggle with her own cruel nail.
The three crosses dangled their writhing burdens before the crowd. Many
onlookers, especially the women, took pleasure in Sergius's bunching
muscles under sweat-glistening skin. Others savored Valeria's voluptuous
squirming. But Willowfall was the new attraction. Men craned and jostled to
view her whole body as she hung by her taut arms, knees a little bent, her
body hardly moving except for the breathing palpitations of her belly. Her
head dipped forward, as if she were examining the single nail that pinned her
bare feet to the footrest. I imagined her view of her own naked body, and
felt a tremor of excitement.
The crowd grew quieter, sensing the struggle between Willowfall's soft body
and the hard cross. The cross would never shift, struggle, or cry. It would
never show leniency or impatience. The cross was a perfect ruler over its
subject, and the people were in its thrall. They waited with tense excitement
for the cross's first victory.
Willowfall looked up at her left hand, lashed to the crossbeam. She flexed
her fingers. I had secured her with many coils of rope to spread the pressure
over a good length of her wrist, so her hands were not starved of blood, and
she was still able to move them and feel the tightness of the rope. Her
weight hung by her well-stretched arms, as she protected her injured feet from
exerting any pressure on the nail. She tried to flex her arms, to relieve the
growing stress in them. Her breathing grew faster. She twisted her hips from
side to side and looked at her neighbors toiling on their own crosses. The
need to move was growing unbearable. The cross overshadowed her, patient,
unyielding. The crowd could see in her face the growing realization that the
strain in her arms and shoulders would not let her stay low on the cross.
She began to shift her legs, gingerly at first, testing the tenderness of
her punctured feet against the rack-like strain on her upper body. Little
gasps and moans escaped her lips as the competition of agonies grew more
intense. She pulled herself up by the arms, and managed to stay up for less
then a minute before her biceps started quivering and she slid back down, the
hammer swinging from her breasts. Soon she was driven to try again, and moaned
with frustration as her arms gave out after only half the time they had
managed before. Her thigh muscles tensed with her desire to raise herself, but
lost their strength as her feet felt the bite of the nail.
The hole for Willowfall's cross had not been dug as deep as I would have
liked, so the top of her stipes was higher than expected: her breasts were at
about head height for the spectators, and her tortured face was visible from
the back of the crowd, who stood three or four deep in a semicircle in front
of the crosses. Several of them shouted encouragement to her to try again.
Shaking her head, whether from pain or with anger at their cruelty, Willowfall
slowly hauled herself up again by arm-strength. Her lovely face was distorted
with the effort, her eyes closed tight. The crowd began to count the seconds
that her head stayed level with her hands.
"One! Two! Three!"
"Hang in there your highness!"
"She'll be hangin' again soon!"
"Four! Five! Six!"
Willowfall's arms shook uncontrollably.
"Seven! Eight! Ooooooh!"
Willowfall sank down so quickly that her weight jerked on her weakened arms.
She gave a short cry, and the crowd clapped and laughed with each other,
remarking that she probably now wished that she'd developed some arm-strength
by carrying her own buckets of hot bath-water around the palace.
Willowfall spread her knees apart and looked down between them at the
black nailhead sprouting from the bloody top of her right foot. She
wriggled her toes, and her mouth tightened with the pain of even that slight
movement. She endured the strain in her arms and shoulders for another minute,
tossing her head. The crowd's excitement grew. When the agony became
unbearable, she started to straighten her legs, then quickly drew back as the
nail bit into her violated feet.
The crowd was drunk with glee at her cruel predicament.
"Stand on the nail, bitch!" shouted a dark-faced beggar in the front row,
reveling in his power over a noblewoman. Only a week or two ago, women such as
Willowfall would have had their servants beat him into the gutter for coming
as close to her as he was now.
"Stand on the nail!" repeated a few others. Others joined in.
"Stand on the nail! Stand on the nail!"
"You know you want to!" added the clean-shaven man, his arm around
Blossom's shoulders as her hand slid inside his tunic.
Others in the crowd were letting their excitement get the better of them.
Several of the prostitutes had lifted their skirts and were rolling their
buttocks against the groins of men behind them. Coins quietly changed hands.
I saw several men using their own hands rather than pay for the pleasuring.
Willowfall could see it all too from her elevated place, but the humiliation
of being a spectacle for the pleasure of beggars and whores was overwhelmed by
the realization that she had to do as they told her, and stand on the nail.
She writhed in the low position for a minute longer, but the relentless
stretching of her upper body continually racheted the pain beyond her ability
to bear. She bore down on the footrest for a few seconds, then screamed in
frustration at the bursting agony in her impaled feet. She slipped
down to hang again by her arms, but was soon forced to grind her feet down
against the nail once more. Her feet twisted on the nail as she bore more
weight on her legs. Her cries rose to screams of agony.
Fannia was in the center of the front row. Silvanus stood right beside
her. I noticed that his arm was around her shoulders. Fannia's eyes drank in
Willowfall's exposure and agony. Next to them stood the tall blonde whore
with the tattoo on her neck. Her skirt was piled up at the back and Gallus
was thrusting his groin against her athletic rump. Both of them had their eyes
fixed on Willowfall. Gallus thrusted in a slow rhythm, openly fucking the
whore. She uninhibitedly pleasured herself, one hand inside the front
waistband of her skirt. Several men in the crowd rolled down their dirty
breeches and waved impressively large erections.
Willowfall's screams ended in a choking gasp and her body slid down to the
full stretch of her arms. She regained her awareness of the crowd, and saw the
shameless displays of sexual enjoyment of her humiliation. She stared in
disbelief and disgust, until the rigor in her arms turned her awareness inward
again. She whimpered with the realization that she must soon stand again on
the nail in her feet. I realized that my own erection was so large that there
was a blatant bulge in the front of my tunic. I tried to push it sideways to
make it less obvious to the crowd. I still wished to retain some of the
dignity of a Roman officer. But Willowfall's dignity lay discarded in the
pathetic wisp of her dress left on the ground at the base of her cross. She
writhed in miserable nakedness, in preparation for her next bout of
self-torture.
Gallus, overcome with arousal at Willowfall's predicament, slammed his dick
with extra force in to his blonde companion, and she staggered forward a few
steps. Gallus followed her, keeping his dick well-embedded in her cunt. She
put out her hands to stop herself, and they came to rest on Willowfall's
thighs. Willowfall gasped with surprise and pain as the whore's weight was
transmitted through Willowfall's legs to the nail wound in her feet. The
blonde gripped Willowfall's thighs and began pushing back against Gallus,
matching his own fierce rhythm. Willowfall cried out as the roughness of
their coupling shook her body. Gallus reached over the blonde's head and held
on to Willowfall's arms, using her like an athlete's wall-bar while he fucked
the blonde who was now sandwiched between Gallus and Willowfall.
"Stop it!" cried Willowfall, looking directly in to Gallus's face. He
caressed her cheek but continued to slam his dick into the blonde's pussy,
indirectly causing Willowfall's body to jerk and bounce against the stipes.
"No, Gallus, please!" Willowfall howled, as the movements of her body pulled
her feet aginst their pinioning nail. The blonde, finding the hammer
hanging from Willowfall's breasts uncomfortable, untangled it from the
cords and tossed it aside. She took one of Willowfall's nipples in her
mouth, but felt the sharp tip of the fish-hook and drew back. She
decided to torture Willowfall with words instead.
"Hey princess, is this the Roman dick you wanted?"
Willowfall screwed up her face and tried to turn away.
"He's so big and hard for me, Princess!"
"Don't talk like that!" cried Willowfall.
Gallus smiled and kept up a steady pace of fucking.
"Oooh, you're on the cross in front of everyone!" cooed the blonde.
"Get away from me!" groaned Willowfall.
The blonde hung on to Willowfall's shoulder with one hand, and
the other one burrowed in to Willowfall's groin.
"No!" screamed Willowfall.
The blonde slipped two fingers in to Willowfall's pussy and finger-fucked her
with an insistent rhythm that matched Gallus's fucking of her own pussy.
"Yes, yes!" moaned the blonde, her other hand frantically working her own
pussy. "I'm fucking you for him. Poor little crucified bitch your pussy is so
tight I'm fucking you for him, ohhhhhhhh!" Willowfall's whimperings were lost
beneath the exultant cries of the blonde whore's minute-long orgasm. Gallus
followed it quickly with his own.
I stayed with Silvanus in front of Willowfall's cross, but ordered all the
other Roman troops to fall back to the road. I told Oppius and Gallus to go
back to the camp, taking the cart with them, and notify our superior officers
that we were on crucifixion guard detail, and to return with either orders to
move out or supplies to allow us to stay. Gallus reluctantly left his new
blonde friend. Fannia stayed with Silvanus and me. Valeria and Sergius cried
out to us, begging us to protect them as the soldiers moved away and the crowd
closed in on their crosses. Blossom coaxed some more coins out of the
clean-shaven man, whereupon he joined Blossom and two of her friends in
teasing Valeria, calling her a crybaby and moan-a-lot. One of the girls
flipped the clean-shaven man's penis into view and stroked it to keep it hard,
while Blossom used her fingers to open up Valeria's pussy lips. Valeria
struggled and cursed but could not wriggle away from Blossom's attentions
without falling off her sedile. Some of the other prostitutes gathered around
Sergius. They taunted him, telling him his suffering was just retribution for
the sadistic acts he had forced on them when he was Valeria's rich
boyfriend. He struggled impotently on his nails in front of them.
Many men, and a few women, stayed in front of Willowfall, getting as close
as we would allow them. She was an arresting sight. Her smooth light-toned
skin shone in the morning sun with a sheen of sweat. Her lovely body twisted
and strained, torn between the two competing agonies that her cross allowed
her. Each time she put real weight on her feet, her toes fanned out and
twitched and new rivulets of blood disappeared in to the dark earth. Fannia
and Silvanus and I were so close that we could smell her sweat and blood. I
wanted to reach out and feel the shuddering hardness of her muscles.
As her agony grew, Willowfall battled the urge to beg the plebian crowd for
mercy, or allow coarse words to cross her lips. When hanging low she spoke
urgently to us, quietly begging Fannia, woman to woman, for mercy. Fannia
responded with ironic compliments on her lean body and its attractive
posture on the cross. Silvanus joined in, asking Willowfall if she wanted to
swap with Valeria, who had a sedile but was fully nailed. Willowfall began to
weep. Each time she thought the vileness of being on the cross had reached its
peak, it grew worse. She pleaded with Silvanus and me to take her down and use
her however we pleased. We asked if she wanted a quick death but she was able
to decline. I wondered how long she could maintain her ladylike restraint.
Leaving Silvanus and Fannia to continue taunting Willowfall, I went over to
see how Sergius was doing. The prostitutes he had abused were now devils in
his own hell, delighting in his grimacing face and shaking body. He was past
the initial phase of constant cursing and yelling, and was hanging low,
breathing in short gasps. Two of them were standing directly in front of him,
one positioning the sharp pin of her broach by his groin, while the other
grasped his sweat-soaked hair and lifted his face off his chest. He stared
vacantly at her. With the little breath left in each refilling of his lungs,
he rasped out some barely intelligible curses. Her friend gleefully pinned
her broach to his dangling penis. Sergius immediately bellowed and shuddered,
sending them scampering to a safe distance where they giggled and pointed at
the amber broach now firmly attached to his glans. They danced in close to him
and then fled like children running from waves at the seaside, laughingly
daring each other to retrieve the swinging broach.
On the other side of Willowfall, Blossom had lubricated Valeria's pussy lips
with her own saliva-slicked fingers and was guiding the clean-shaven man's
sizeable dick in to it. Valeria turned her face from side to side as the man
massaged her large pale breasts and clamped her pink nipples between his
fingers. His hands seemed too clean to be those of a slave. I suspected he
was a citizen who had escaped our purge of the male population, and had been
slipping out of the city when he was trapped by the arresting scene of the
three crosses.
"Oh, sir, that's so big," gasped Valeria, falling back on her prostitute's
instincts, "I want to take it in my mouth, please get me off this cross so I
can suck it for you!"
The man laughed cruelly. "I'll fuck you right there, trollop. I want
to feel your pussy throb as I give you something to take your mind off
those nails!"
"I want it in my ass too," moaned Valeria, in desperation. Grovelling
on her hands and knees with a huge dick in her ass would be heaven compared
to the stretched-out agony of her crucifixion.
The man chuckled and inched his dick in to Valeria's pussy. From her own
cross, Willowfall heard Valeria's words and despaired at the thought that the
cross would soon bring her to equally humiliating desperation for relief.
As Willowfall watched, the clean-shaven man gripped Valeria's ample breasts
and began thrusting, sending waves undulating across her soft belly, and
wringing erotic cries from her as her pinned limbs jerked against the
immovable nails. Seeing another woman enduring such suffering, even one who
had angrily condemned her to the same fate, brought tears to Willowfall's
eyes, until her own body's urgent need for relief brought her back to the
struggle with her own cruel nail.
Kodos the Executioner
Governor
Very enjoyable once again!
