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The Fate of a Goth Girl

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Praefectus Praetorio said:
The Ausci Gaul begins his revenge.

Twelve feet behind the girl, Mogurix stopped and turned. He stood for a minute, the vicious whip dangling from his right hand, his fingers caressing the ridged wood handle. He surveyed the Goth's already cut and bleeding back to select his first target. Then he turned to his Centurion and nodded his readiness.
Calixtus nodded in return and said, with, it seemed, a slight reluctance, "Optio. Quattuor plus. Procede ad voluntatem (Four More. Proceed at will).”
The large and muscular Optio did not have the speed of the smaller and lighter Decanus, and the Gallic giant lumbered a bit at the start. But with twelve feet to cover, he gained speed until he looked like a charging bull as he approached the bound girl!

Timing his stroke to perfection, Mogurix swept the whip around her body to impact the far flank, her right, with a crushing blow. The thongs spread to cover her flank from waist to armpit, with one end finding the tender side of her breast. As the momentum dragged the strands back and down toward her spine, the balls and wires cut and tore at her flesh, opening deep wounds.
Barb let loose a long howling scream of pain. As Mogurix walked back to his position, many could see the broad, satisfied grin on his face.

Praeses Antonious arrived with three of his comitum (retinue) and two personal bodyguards at the harena, about a half-hour before noon. He was pleased to see a substantial presence of the praesidii (garrison) on duty. Gaius had some concern for possible rowdiness by the crowd or even some demonstration by the local Goths. He knew the mincing and timorous procurator would be completely unable to handle any of that.

Gaius led his little group inside and was shocked to see most seats already taken. As he strode across the earthen event space, followed by his band, the Praeses acknowledged the scattered applause for the day’s entertainment and proceeded to his box. There, he greeted the Tesserarius (he couldn’t quite remember the officer’s name – but he knew he was a good man) and his detachment of soldiers.
“Ave, Tesserarie. Persevera bonum opum (keep up the good work). How many men do you have)?”
“Four contubernia, Governor. Centurion Calixtus shall bring three more (for a total of about 60 men).” replied Sextus.
“Optime, optime! Procede (Very good, very good! Proceed).” Antonious turned and the group of six entered the box (which could comfortably hold fourteen). Once seated, the Praeses instructed his servants to bring the first refreshments. As he waited, Gaius pondered his decision. While he wished to follow the advice of his senior councilors, he still was not quite decided. And he also needed to consider how he would explain his judgment to the crowd.

Then he saw the procurator, waddling toward the box, already in a half-bow.

The still-standing amphitheater in Nemausus (modern Nimes, Provence).
View attachment 998821
The city was dubbed "the most Roman city outside Italy" (The Telegraph. 30 July 2018). The arena in Narbo (totally lost during the early Middle Ages) was substantially smaller, though built on a similar pattern.
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"... But with twelve feet to cover, he gained speed until he looked like a charging bull as he approached the bound girl! ..." - This paints a terrific picture!
"... the balls and wires cut and tore at her flesh, opening deep wounds ..." - Now we're talking!

Another great narrative PrPr!
 
This may be uncomfortable to read

As Barbaria screamed out her pain from the first, vicious stroke of the Optio, every eye in the atrium was drawn to her twisting, pain-racked body.
Piso, Claudius, and Galerius all sat in the places of honor, observing the spectacle in the bright atrium with very different attitudes.

Lucius sat very still and very upright, with his chin raised and a stern countenance. He intended to give an impression of emotionless dedication to the administration of justice. But under his toga, his manhood was erect and hard, lusting for the naked, beaten girl. And, as the Gaul’s terrible stroke landed on her back, a closer look would have revealed Lucius’s trembling lower lip and just the hint of drool at the corner of his mouth.

Marcus Julius sat with a stiff, military posture and a look that spoke complete unconcern. In the case of this haughty aristocrat, the look was an honest reflection of his feelings. He did not care for the spectacle but felt a duty to observe with approval. Justice must be served was the message he intended to convey.
As a young man, Claudius had seen his share of military service and waded deep in the resultant gore. But this slow and deliberate tearing up of the girl's body stirred a mild revulsion in him. It was so barbaric. However, he had no feeling of pity for the Goth.

Galerius had not the slightest interest in justice or pity. He had mostly recovered from his collapse. Now, he was leaning off his seat, relishing every blow, every cut, every tear of the flagri. Unconsciously rubbing his crotch and drooling with lust, the lad muttered encouragement to the floggers, “Durior, durior, durior...(harder, harder, harder...)” As Mogurix's first, devastating blow landed on the girl, he shrieked in a high voice and almost came.

The Optio took up his position and spent a little time deciding on his next blow. Then he smiled even more broadly and began his charge. This time, he swept the flagrum back low as he twisted his torso to increase the impact. When he brought the scourge forward, it was an underhand shot, rising up between the girl’s legs.
The powerful impact of the lead-weighted seven thongs was enough to raise the Goth a couple of inches against the post. The spread of tails covered both her inner thighs as well as her semi-hidden cleft. The wires drew narrow cuts up the tender skin of her sensitive thighs and punctured the surface of her vulnerable cunt. The onlookers were astonished at the location and power of the stroke.

Barbara was lifted up and against the hard post as an incredible explosion of pain burst between her legs. Her eyes rolled in her head and her mouth went soundlessly wide open. Her breath seemed to fail as she had no way to handle the terrible pain. Only after the Optio had already returned to his position, did she let loose a banshee-like wail of agony.
 
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Praefectus Praetorio said:
This may be uncomfortable to read

As Barbaria screamed out her pain from the first, vicious stroke of the Optio, every eye in the atrium was drawn to her twisting, pain-racked body.
Piso, Claudius, and Galerius all sat in the places of honor, observing the spectacle in the bright atrium with very different attitudes.

Lucius sat very still and very upright, with his chin raised and a stern countenance. He intended to give an impression of emotionless dedication to the administration of justice. But under his toga, his manhood was erect and hard, lusting for the naked, beaten girl. And, as the Gaul’s terrible stroke landed on her back, a closer look would have revealed Lucius’s trembling lower lip and just the hint of drool at the corner of his mouth.

Marcus Julius sat with a stiff, military posture and a look that spoke complete unconcern. In the case of this haughty aristocrat, the look was an honest reflection of his feelings. He did not care for the spectacle but felt a duty to observe with approval. Justice must be served was the message he intended to convey.
As a young man, Claudius had seen his share of military service and waded deep in the resultant gore. But this slow and deliberate tearing up of the girl's body stirred a mild revulsion in him. It was so barbaric. However, he had no feeling of pity for the Goth.

Galerius had not the slightest interest in justice or pity. He had mostly recovered from his collapse. Now, he was leaning off his seat, relishing every blow, every cut, every tear of the flagri. Unconsciously rubbing his crotch and drooling with lust, the lad muttered encouragement to the floggers, “Durior, durior, durior...(harder, harder, harder...)” As Mogurix's first, devastating blow landed on the girl, he shrieked in a high voice and almost came.

The Optio took up his position and spent a little time deciding on his next blow. Then he smiled even more broadly and began his charge. This time, he swept the flagrum back low as he twisted his torso to increase the impact. When he brought the scourge forward, it was an underhand shot, rising up between the girl’s legs.
The powerful impact of the lead-weighted seven thongs was enough to raise the Goth a couple of inches against the post. The spread of tails covered both her inner thighs as well as her semi-hidden cleft. The wires drew narrow cuts up the tender skin of her sensitive thighs and punctured the surface of her vulnerable cunt. The onlookers were astonished at the location and power of the stroke.

Barbara was lifted up and against the hard post as an incredible explosion of pain burst between her legs. Her eyes rolled in her head and her mouth went soundlessly wide open. Her breath seemed to fail as she had no way to handle the terrible pain. Only after the Optio had already returned to his position, did she let loose a banshee-like wail of agony.
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Scourged between her legs ... damn PrPr that is hot. Poor, delicious, delectable Goth slut!
 
Wow, with descrptive skills like this in play I really am right there, as I want to be. That crotch stroke though, even gives me pause? At this point I am almost reluctant to be scourged this way. Almost.

Ultimately I am still overwhelmed by my kinky desires, if I can bring my self to want to be crucified, I’m really there for the scourging- so I will imagine I suffer - and you have my full attention!
Thank you for exploring the detail so vividly and with beautiful cruelty.
 
I mentioned in post #352 some of the sources for my knowledge of Barbaria and her fate. One was the official report of Quaestor Piso to the Emperor. I thought a few insomniac readers might be interested in knowing more of its provenance.

As I previously mentioned, the report was fortuitously preserved from the later ravages of the Gothic conquest of the Westen Empire by transfer to the Imperial Archives in Constantinople. The further history of this document is a remarkable story of luck, good fortune, and the vagaries of history.

The first twist occurred in 1204 when the Fourth Crusade captured and looted Constantinople. A priceless hoard of ancient treasures and documents were lost in the unrestrained destruction. Among the Crusaders, the Venetian Troops, under Doge Enrico Dandolo, were the most disciplined. By the Doge's personal intervention, a small part of the Imperial Archives was saved and transferred back to Venice. Included was a 9th-century manuscript copy of Piso's report.

Next, in 1299, Pietro Gradenigo, 49th Doge of Venice, was having a run of bad luck. Venice had lost its Holy Land possessions with the fall of Acre in 1291, and in 1294, the War of Curzola began with rival Genoa. Defeats at the hands of the revived Byzantine Empire and the disastrous naval defeat at Curzola in 1298 weakened the Republic to a dangerous level. The Doge began peace negotiations with Genoa and searched for other foreign alliances. In doing so, his eye turned to England, where King Edward I (Malleus Scotorum) was in the 27th year of a powerful reign. As the Doge researched the English King, he learned of his interest as Duke of Aquitaine in the Benedictine monastery of Cluny, founded by the first Duke. To win favor, Pietro had a set of minor ancient documents that had been stolen from Constantinople and related to Roman Aquitania et Provincia, including our report, donated to the Monastery library. While the alliance negotiations went nowhere, the Piso Report had found a new home.

The manuscript sat peacefully on a back shelf of the monastery's extensive library for the next 250 years. In February 1562, it was part of a group of documents lent to the Royal Fleury Abbey in Saint-Benoît-sur-Loire, Loiret. This transfer was most serendipitous since, during the religious conflicts of 1562, the Huguenots sacked the abbey, destroying or dispersing many of the manuscripts. Ten years later, this collection of ancient manuscripts was returned to Cluny.

Another two hundred years passed without incident until 1790, when a rioting mob during the French Revolution burned and destroyed the monastery library. Piso's report was fortuitously secreted with some other manuscripts in the Cluny town hall.
In 1934, a young graduate student researching for her doctorate in Classics from Balliol College, Oxford, discovered the ancient, frail manuscripts. The officials in the town hall had no interest in the papers and just wanted to clear space for additional municipal archives. So, the report was taken back to Oxford and remains today in the Bodleian Library.
 
And the report itself, Latin text supplied courtesy of the Bodleian curator:

Litterae a Quaestore Lucio Pisone mittendae ad Flavium Gratianem Augustum, Divinum Caesarem, Imperatorem. Ave.

De iudicio poenaque servae Gothicae nomine Barbaria.

Haec facinorem commeruit in Urbe Narbone, in anno sexto decimo Divi Imperii Vestri, coram spectatoribus. Quindecim probis civibus illo facto testatis, eam lex maiestatis et parricidii cum dolo scientem sceleratam esse iudicavi, ideo ad Poenam Collei per partes, viginti sex etiam plāgas flagrī, atque crucifixionem, eam damnavi.
Postea, Marcus Julius Claudius Gallicus Senator, cum Praeside Gaio Claudio Antonio, in iudicio concurrunt.
Praeside executio huius iudicii collocata est.

Ita ego Quaestor Lucius Piso deferro et meum signum impono.

Perhaps @Eulalia can translate
 
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settantuno said:
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Beautiful again @settantuno

I’m really enjoying the multi angles you’re doing. This one is again truly gratifying, capturing the moment PrPr made everyone gasp so vividly. The details of the scourge itself and the marks on Barb’s body are just lovely and really enhances the pleasure of this part of the story for me (rather like your vivid paintings of the Sack torture).

thank you !
 
How strong is Barbaria? How much more can she take?

Gaius Calixtus watched with mixed feelings as that last stroke landed between the girl’s spread legs. A nineteen-year veteran of the legions, he came from a military family. His forebears had served in the Army at least as far back as Emperor Gaius Aurelius Valerius Diocletianus (one hundred years earlier). His father served in the Gallic army under Caesar Julian at the great victory over the Alamanni at the Battle of Argentoratum (modern Strasbourg) in 357 CE. He was a Centurion in that army when the soldiers proclaimed Julian as Augustus (Emperor) in 360. With his father a loyal supporter of that last pagan Emperor (called Julian the Apostate), Gaius had inherited a skeptical eye toward Christianity and a practical commitment to the discipline and duty of the Army.
With such a background, the Centurion had no hesitation carving up an adversary on the battlefield or imposing the most rigorous military discipline in the camp. But this single, defenseless Goth girl seemed to be an ineffective rebellatrix (female rebel) against the Roman Empire, or even against that worthless filium spectabilis Praesidis (son of the admirable Governor). Calixtus was not known for his pity, but he felt some now for this girl as she was systematically tortured by his men.
Nevertheless, duty came first to Gaius, and he would follow his orders to the end.

Mogurix waited while the girl's agonized screams quieted to exhausted groans as she tried, unsuccessfully to bring her tied legs together. He saw with satisfaction blood begin to work its way down her legs. That one got through to the bitch, he thought. Drawing the whip back, he started his third powerful attack. This time, he directed the flagrum to the very middle of her back. The thunderous stroke drove the weighted thongs with such force that they drove Barb's body against the post forced and her breath out. The shock of this impact muted her cry. By the time the Optio was back in position, Barbaria was hanging almost limply from her chained arms on the top of the post.
The Centurion called for a pause and went to inspect the girl. He found her eyes lidded and her trembling lips muttering something unintelligible, probably Goth curses, he thought. He needed to take action before allowed the flogging to continue. Not from mercy, of course, but from the expectation that the criminal should be conscious during all of the suffering. He gestured to a soldier standing near, who, in response, grabbed a bucket nearby and approached the post.
Gaius stepped back, and the man dumped the contains, foul wastewater, heavily salted, over Barb. The effect was almost instantaneous. The salt burned deep in her cuts like hot brands and, as she gasped in pain, the malodorous water entered her nose and mouth. For a couple of minutes, the girl struggled at her bonds while choking and spitting out the taste. Gaius ambled back to his place. Turning again, he saw how much of the blood had been washed away. This left the numerous cuts and bruises more visible against her fair skin.
 
Praefectus Praetorio said:
How strong is Barbaria? How much more can she take?
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CD1B5859-3D26-4877-B671-698332D64C2C.jpeg Very very strong. Let me at him!

Seriously. He’s not the 99 lb weakling pictured here, and the situation is entirely different. Truth be told, I have serious doubts about how much Moore I can take. We need a Goth rescue here soon!
 
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