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Other Forms Of Execution

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Death on the Wheel..
.View attachment 94509 View attachment 94510
....and that moment had come... The executioner looked first to Sofi, then to Susja... and with a little smile approached the red-headed girl - she would be first... To a raucous cheer the bar, at once high, its dull metal edges twising in the sky, descended... and smashed into Susja's ankle with a terrible crunch, immediately joined by a howl of agony as the pain washed up her body... Glancing down through clouding eyes she saw her foot, attached still by reddened flesh - now swelling rapidly - yet at a crazy angle, the bones of her ankle broken... She could hardly breathe., but rapidly the bar crashed down again, now to her other leg... The pain swelled to a chorus... Without pause up went the executioner's hands - where next? He worked up her twisted, bound limbs - calves: Smash! - then above her knees... the thickest part of her legs - but broken on both sides with two blows each... Sweat poured from her entire body, her legs now mangled and resembling nothing but strands of reddened, swelling, bloody flesh... Not the smooth legs that lovers had caressed, but useless, bones held together only by the wrecked flesh... Susja trembled involuntarily, her screams reached out across the now stilled square, bouncing from the buildings, reverberating, then subsiding into a continual moaning...
/ATTACH] View attachment 94511 View attachment 94512 View attachment 94513 View attachment 94514 View attachment 94515

Now he turned to Sofi... her eyes, widening, had been transfixed by the breaking of Sujsa - and now slowly swivelled back to stare up at the bar, now poised over her own body... She knew what was coming, as - almost in slow-motion, the bar descended towards her little white ankle... and then the pain erupted and her sreams were let loose... Left, Right, Up Up, her legs, her thighs - her back boucing on the hub of the wheel with each blow, the pain layered upon pain... pain beyond pain.... pain beyond understanding.... and seemingly endless...

Back to Susja.... Now her arms... wrists - BROKEN! - forearms - BROKEN! - and so it went - pain beyond description... blood and marrow spurting occasionally from the rips in her once-delicate flesh, her voice torn from her throat and projected into the grey swirling sky...

Women in the square, at one moment cheering for the deaths of the girls now became muted, holding their children close to them, shielding their eyes in their robes, for this was something that they should not see... Or hear... the cries, the moans, the gulps and gasps as the body of Susja clung to a life that had long since passed into the realms of a horror story...

And now the final blows approached for Sofi... Barely sensible now, but so close the bar fell to her eyes... her body shuddering with each dull blow as the flesh and bone gave way, drawing ever softer, yet ever more agonised cries from her lips...

Then it was done.... Almost.... The assistants approached each wheel, canting them forward until they were almost vertical, facing the crowd in the square, who looked up on the two girls... Just an hour earlier they had arrived, dirty and in rags, but beautiful... Now they were images of the utmost horror and disgust... ravaged breasts, limbs bloody and twisted... Truly broken creatures.... Only their still lovely faces, spattered in blood, gave some sense of the joking, laughing, kissing, loving things they had once been... and would not be...

As the wheel came to rest in its final position, Sofi grunted once more, her body shifting as gravity took its hold on the broken limbs, grating flesh, bone and nerves.... How long? How long would this continue? The executioner's work was done and he retired to clean and refresh himself... The crowd, now dimly visible through dark eyes, watched on, fascinated by the death agonies unfolding in front of them, but some slowly drifing away... The dark clouds continued to roll in above and drops of rain began to fall...

The rain became heavier.... The crowd dispersed... going to their jobs or to the tavern... Few had the energy left to do much work that day, and maybe a drink was the best thing... Just a few remained, their clothes becoming soaked in what was now a downpour... Water coursed over Sofi's body, washing the blood away, cleaning her face... Wetting her trembling lips.... Her eyes moved slowly to Susja, heaving on the spokes of the wheels in a slow, repeating pattern... And then to Sigi, hiding behind the rail to which she remained chained... .... tears mingling with blood and rain water....
View attachment 94514 View attachment 94516 View attachment 94520 View attachment 94521
First to one, then to the other.... Her eyes reaching out, and meeting Sigi's wide gaze.... until the one became the other...

Postscipt

Sigi remained chained to the rail for another hour... The rain came down without ending... At the end of the hour the assistants who had been sheltering came back up onto the platform and removed the bonds from the now still bodies of Susja and Sofi, letting them fall onto the wooden flooring, before dragging them off back into the cart... Sigi never saw them again. That work done, they released Sigi from her chains, wrapped her in a rough robe to shelter her from the storm, and led her down off the execution scaffold. Her punishment was done... With a shove, they sent her sprawling into a muddy puddle and then with shouts and arm gestures, told her to get away... Unsure what to do she stumbled... then turned and, carried on legs like jelly, ran - into the alleys around the Grote Markt, away - far away - lost in the narrow streets until she could find some shelter... A passerby saw her... she was pretty... there was a tavern near by...

But as she cowered there, in the rain, covered in her wounds... She knew where her path ahead lay....Someday she would become Sofi, become Susja... That was her destiny....

View attachment 94519



Addendum
Thank you for tolerating me as I have slowly put this story together... It's my first try, so please forgive the stylistic slips (and other slips), as well as the odd lapse of continuity here and there, and thanks to everyone who has offered support and advice along the way... The story formed in my mind - weirdly - as I was trecking in Burma last year... I think a combination of lots of silent time with not much to do (other than walk!) in the hills together with the odd effects of anti-malarials! Anyway, it had been coming together for a while... I really enjoyed putting it to "paper" - I was sometimes excited by the scenes forming on the screen... and in my mind... And I was trying to choose who I would be... In the end, this time, I think it is lovely Sigi... the witness... who has her own journey to take to her death... the fourth death of the title.... I think I may come back with her sometime....
I bet the animations are by Quoom! There seems no end to his sadistic imagination! - right down to the detail of birds feeding on the victim's pussy...
Death on the Wheel..
.View attachment 94509 View attachment 94510
....and that moment had come... The executioner looked first to Sofi, then to Susja... and with a little smile approached the red-headed girl - she would be first... To a raucous cheer the bar, at once high, its dull metal edges twising in the sky, descended... and smashed into Susja's ankle with a terrible crunch, immediately joined by a howl of agony as the pain washed up her body... Glancing down through clouding eyes she saw her foot, attached still by reddened flesh - now swelling rapidly - yet at a crazy angle, the bones of her ankle broken... She could hardly breathe., but rapidly the bar crashed down again, now to her other leg... The pain swelled to a chorus... Without pause up went the executioner's hands - where next? He worked up her twisted, bound limbs - calves: Smash! - then above her knees... the thickest part of her legs - but broken on both sides with two blows each... Sweat poured from her entire body, her legs now mangled and resembling nothing but strands of reddened, swelling, bloody flesh... Not the smooth legs that lovers had caressed, but useless, bones held together only by the wrecked flesh... Susja trembled involuntarily, her screams reached out across the now stilled square, bouncing from the buildings, reverberating, then subsiding into a continual moaning...
/ATTACH] View attachment 94511 View attachment 94512 View attachment 94513 View attachment 94514 View attachment 94515

Now he turned to Sofi... her eyes, widening, had been transfixed by the breaking of Sujsa - and now slowly swivelled back to stare up at the bar, now poised over her own body... She knew what was coming, as - almost in slow-motion, the bar descended towards her little white ankle... and then the pain erupted and her sreams were let loose... Left, Right, Up Up, her legs, her thighs - her back boucing on the hub of the wheel with each blow, the pain layered upon pain... pain beyond pain.... pain beyond understanding.... and seemingly endless...

Back to Susja.... Now her arms... wrists - BROKEN! - forearms - BROKEN! - and so it went - pain beyond description... blood and marrow spurting occasionally from the rips in her once-delicate flesh, her voice torn from her throat and projected into the grey swirling sky...

Women in the square, at one moment cheering for the deaths of the girls now became muted, holding their children close to them, shielding their eyes in their robes, for this was something that they should not see... Or hear... the cries, the moans, the gulps and gasps as the body of Susja clung to a life that had long since passed into the realms of a horror story...

And now the final blows approached for Sofi... Barely sensible now, but so close the bar fell to her eyes... her body shuddering with each dull blow as the flesh and bone gave way, drawing ever softer, yet ever more agonised cries from her lips...

Then it was done.... Almost.... The assistants approached each wheel, canting them forward until they were almost vertical, facing the crowd in the square, who looked up on the two girls... Just an hour earlier they had arrived, dirty and in rags, but beautiful... Now they were images of the utmost horror and disgust... ravaged breasts, limbs bloody and twisted... Truly broken creatures.... Only their still lovely faces, spattered in blood, gave some sense of the joking, laughing, kissing, loving things they had once been... and would not be...

As the wheel came to rest in its final position, Sofi grunted once more, her body shifting as gravity took its hold on the broken limbs, grating flesh, bone and nerves.... How long? How long would this continue? The executioner's work was done and he retired to clean and refresh himself... The crowd, now dimly visible through dark eyes, watched on, fascinated by the death agonies unfolding in front of them, but some slowly drifing away... The dark clouds continued to roll in above and drops of rain began to fall...

The rain became heavier.... The crowd dispersed... going to their jobs or to the tavern... Few had the energy left to do much work that day, and maybe a drink was the best thing... Just a few remained, their clothes becoming soaked in what was now a downpour... Water coursed over Sofi's body, washing the blood away, cleaning her face... Wetting her trembling lips.... Her eyes moved slowly to Susja, heaving on the spokes of the wheels in a slow, repeating pattern... And then to Sigi, hiding behind the rail to which she remained chained... .... tears mingling with blood and rain water....
View attachment 94514 View attachment 94516 View attachment 94520 View attachment 94521
First to one, then to the other.... Her eyes reaching out, and meeting Sigi's wide gaze.... until the one became the other...

Postscipt

Sigi remained chained to the rail for another hour... The rain came down without ending... At the end of the hour the assistants who had been sheltering came back up onto the platform and removed the bonds from the now still bodies of Susja and Sofi, letting them fall onto the wooden flooring, before dragging them off back into the cart... Sigi never saw them again. That work done, they released Sigi from her chains, wrapped her in a rough robe to shelter her from the storm, and led her down off the execution scaffold. Her punishment was done... With a shove, they sent her sprawling into a muddy puddle and then with shouts and arm gestures, told her to get away... Unsure what to do she stumbled... then turned and, carried on legs like jelly, ran - into the alleys around the Grote Markt, away - far away - lost in the narrow streets until she could find some shelter... A passerby saw her... she was pretty... there was a tavern near by...

But as she cowered there, in the rain, covered in her wounds... She knew where her path ahead lay....Someday she would become Sofi, become Susja... That was her destiny....

View attachment 94519



Addendum
Thank you for tolerating me as I have slowly put this story together... It's my first try, so please forgive the stylistic slips (and other slips), as well as the odd lapse of continuity here and there, and thanks to everyone who has offered support and advice along the way... The story formed in my mind - weirdly - as I was trecking in Burma last year... I think a combination of lots of silent time with not much to do (other than walk!) in the hills together with the odd effects of anti-malarials! Anyway, it had been coming together for a while... I really enjoyed putting it to "paper" - I was sometimes excited by the scenes forming on the screen... and in my mind... And I was trying to choose who I would be... In the end, this time, I think it is lovely Sigi... the witness... who has her own journey to take to her death... the fourth death of the title.... I think I may come back with her sometime....
 
in a macho, male-dominated world,
courting martyrdom was one thing 'free' women could do to prove their physical and mental strength,
and, yes, both the pagan authorities and the church hierarchy found that very disturbing.
But Christina's story is obviously a mediaeval legend that brings in every tasty torture they could think of,
a bit like our tales here on the Forums!


As a student of military history I'm not sure people (in western culture) go out and "court" martydom so I'm having some trouble wrapping my head around this assertion.

Western history is replete with examples of the heroic last stand but those are by people (both military and civilian) who find themselves in that situation and somehow accept that their deaths will have a greater impact than surrendering and continuing to live. The Spartans at Thermopylae, the Jews at Massada, the Texians at the Alamo (for the most part) didn't go out seeking death enmass but given their understanding of the situation they accepted their deaths.

Western culture has always accepted the concept of surrender in the face of overwhelming odds.

I accept that female martydom was a way to show courage in the face of one's oppressors (just as throwing oneself off the castle wall instead of submitting to rape was an 'honorable' death) but I don't think generally martys go out looking for death. I think that martys do show an incrediable amount of courage in accepting a painful death rather than renounce their beliefs but I don't think they actively seek death.

The other thing we need to remember about the stories of martyrs is that it is religious propaganda. Much like Julius Caesar's Commentaries there is a political purpose to their stories and as a civilization we are not one to let facts get in the way of a good story with a lesson.

Just me two cents.

kisses

willowfall
 
I was thinking specifically of female Christian martyrs,
especially during the period of persecution in the late 3rd - 4th centuries,
and yes, I'm well aware of the 'propaganda' nature of religious hagiography,
tracing the development of saints' legends happens to be a big part of my day job -
all the same, there's a solid basis for the view that women did deliberately "court martyrdom",
acting in ways that they knew would land them in big trouble, hopefully in the arena
where they could display their heroism in ways normally associated with men,
not least the efforts of the male Church hierarchy to stop them.​
 
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I accept that female martydom was a way to show courage in the face of one's oppressors (just as throwing oneself off the castle wall instead of submitting to rape was an 'honorable' death) but I don't think generally martys go out looking for death. I think that martys do show an incrediable amount of courage in accepting a painful death rather than renounce their beliefs but I don't think they actively seek death. -Willowfall

Damn that must mean she didn't believe my story about Bethany a while back...

t
 
More than a publicly prove their valor I think it was seen by some as a 'fast track' to heaven, one or two days of pain instead of a lifetime of being virtuous. I remember some writing about what must have felt Sebastian when he was rescued from the clutches of death, so close to martyrdom, eternal life welcoming him, and awake back in the mortal flesh, still subject to sin and corruption.
 
That's true - life was pretty nasty anyway. And the belief of virgin martyrs in their promised marriage with Christ was probably quite literal and physically imagined, not some kind of esoteric spiritual union.
 
hmm, as I didn' expect this site to have so many funny pictures of squirrels, also didn't expect it woudl got me talking so much about mystical things (it might mean that this forum is quite special). But indeed the mystic experiences have been often refered to in terminology akin to one of sexual experiences. And more than once I've heard teh idea of if God made the orgasms as an incentive to procreation what would it be as a prize for the ones who love Him.

ok Ulrika, I think I've had enough wine, now let's get back to the usual schedule of nasty ways to execute people
 
I was going to say something about the shared psychology of Christian martyrs, Jonestown & suicide bombers....But I think I'll just leave that can of worms unopened.
Instead, here are some hanging manips by an artist named Ponch. I think he's Russian. I found them on a Russian site, at least.
ponch1.jpg pomch2.jpg ponch3.jpg ponch4.jpg ponch5.jpg
 
I wonder if the clit of the women is also erected, like the men'ones, during a hanging ....:rolleyes:
...and if they've an orgasm, like them ?:rolleyes::rolleyes::devil:

Well Messa, there is one way to find out . . .
 

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I wonder if the clit of the women is also erected, like the men'ones, during a hanging ....:rolleyes:
...and if they've an orgasm, like them ?:rolleyes::rolleyes::devil:
they have massive haemorrhage -
special leather drawers were provided for women when they were hanged
:eek:
 
there's a solid basis for the view that women did deliberately "court martyrdom"


Hey sexy, can you do me a favor and cite a couple of those sources so that I can go have a look at them?

Militarily the "last stand" has always been a favorite subject of mine and there is a certain conjecture that a considerable amount of 'mob psychology' occurs when a unit does that. Of course, for the most part, it is impossible to interview the particpants as they really aren't in a condition to talk so the pyshcology behind why it occurs is mostly guess work.

And again I'm speaking western culture. Both Asian and Islamic culture have long accepted the suicide attack as a valid military operation but the martyers in question here are from western based cultures.

Now what I am talking about is different from the honorable suicide in the face of the inevitable which has a strong foundation in Greco-Roman culture. But again in that case the participant accepts that death is inevitable before committing suicide. Rarely do they go out and seek death.

I think seeking and accepting is the rub of our intellectual disagreement.

But I have been wrong before.

kisses

willowfall
 
The Passion of Perpetua is the best starting-point (there's a new edition recently, but it doesn't seem to have reached Wiki) - read out from her own account (continued almost up to the time of her martyrdom) into the pretty wide secondary literature on her story (and that of her fellow-martyrs), and its context - especially the possible Montanist background (they (a) had women leaders and (b) glorified martyrdom in terms eerily similar to those of present day Islamic shaheeds).

I don't think there's a big difference between us. In the case of Perpetua (and several other female martyrs whose legends - in the strict sense, 'stuff to be read' - are early enough and consistent enough with what we know of Roman law and social convention to indicate a core of fact), I'd settle for 'assertive acceptance' of martyrdom as the inevitable consequence of their stand (against arranged marriage or 'sacrificing' to the Emperor), but it was 'acceptance' reinforced by desire and hope.

And of course assertive women challenging the authorities, stroppy teens defying their parents, serving-maids disobeying their masters and mistresses, were uncomfortable subject-matter for the male hierarchy, even if the authorities/ parents/ owners were pagans. The way their stories were re-worked, legenda, 'stuff to be read' to monks and nuns, becoming propaganda, 'stuff to be propagated', spread far and wide, is what fascinates me.

But I think 'western-based cultures' may be anachronistic in considering the Christian martyrs: they were of course mostly in the eastern past of the Empire, and I see them as part of a cultural continuum which extended from the Mediterranean to the Bay of Bengal, very much influenced by ideas from Persia and beyond - the Montanists are a case in point.
 
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