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.