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Juan1234

Governor
Hi All,

I’m not sure if this belongs here or in my “history” thread, but I’ll just put it here because I think it will he short.

It is said that the practice began when the Emperor Caligula visited the country estate of his magister millitum one evening. The general had earlier in the day caught a group of his slaves attempting to run away, and finding among them two very attractive young sisters, he had them crucified on either side of the gate to his villa, hoping they might serve as the sort of ornament the emperor would appreciate. Fortunately for him, he was correct. Caligula was delighted to see the young women hanging nude on either side as he entered the villa - so much so that he ordered the general to bring another pair of slave girls and crucify them in the great hall while they dined. Eager to maintain the emperor’s favor, the general brought all of his slave girls to the hall and made them undress before his guests, so that Caligula might choose himself which two should be executed. In the end, he chose four, and crosses were found and brought to the hall, that the maidens might be nailed to them for his enjoyment.

Hearing the story, others hosting Caligula afterward began to crucify their most beautiful slaves as a gift to him, this to curry his mercurial favor. Whenever the emperor was to stay at an estate, the slave girls’ hearts would race, and they would begin measuring their beauty against that of the others, guessing which of them would go to the cross for Caligula’s pleasure. Of course the emperor then became accustomed to being greeted by his hosts with the gift of crucified maidens, and as the novelty corroded, so did the effect. On one occasion, in fact, he flew into a rage at the sight of just three girls on crosses, and had his host flayed for his stinginess.

Thus it quickly became a sort of competition, and a demonstration of wealth and opulence for the great families of Rome to crucify as many girls, and of as great beauty as they could afford. Often a great patrician, expecting Caligula soon as his guest, would parade in great ostentation to the slave market, proclaiming to all that he would soon be host to the emperor, and required slaves to hang upon his crosses. On one occasion, it is recorded that Gaius Sextus Antonius bought 50 young women, set patibula across their shoulders there at the market, marched them home naked, and crucified them all that very afternoon so that they would line the path leading to his villa when Caligula arrived in the evening.

The practice continued long after Caligula’s death. Crucifying young women had become a symbol of status, wealth, and power. As a sort of combination between this custom and the traditional celebratory crucifixion of prisoners following a military victory, it became common for great families to crucify slaves as per of various celebrations, including weddings or the birth of children.
 

Loxuru

Graf von Kreuzigung
The practice continued long after Caligula’s death. Crucifying young women had become a symbol of status, wealth, and power. As a sort of combination between this custom and the traditional celebratory crucifixion of prisoners following a military victory, it became common for great families to crucify slaves as per of various celebrations, including weddings or the birth of children.
And it costed them lots of money.

Under Louis XIV, French nobility was under pressure to come to live in Versailles, and to spend lots of money to life there!

Forcing the patricians' or nobility's purse to stand open constantly! Another way of 'Divide and rule'!
 

Barbaria1

Rebel Leader
Staff member
This is a great historical note, Juan. If only it were true! :rolleyes:

On one occasion, it is recorded that Gaius Sextus Antonius bought 50 young women, set patibula across their shoulders there at the market, marched them home naked, and crucified them all that very afternoon so that they would line the path leading to his villa when Caligula arrived in the evening.

Nothing like excess, is there? :confused::p
 

Juan1234

Governor
You know what’s been decided. You know what they’re going to do to you. The sentence has been read, and they’re leading you swiftly through a corridor to carry it out.

Now you’re in a courtyard full of soldiers, and they’re all looking at you.

“Strip her.”

Your tunic tears at the neckline and they yank it down to leave you naked. Your feet can churn a little as you try to discretely use your bare thighs for modesty, and your arms can search randomly for a good place to rest to hide your body, but nothing can help. You are naked. You can feel a dozen pairs of judging male eyes from all angles, surrounding you, viewing your curves, your breasts, the arch of your back, the swell of your bottom, the shape of your hips - all the intimate details of your body that you have always concealed from all but those very few to whom you have entrusted them at times.

Suddenly, you are your body, and nothing else. You have no possessions - not even basic clothing-, no personality, no thoughts that matter any more. This naked body - these breasts, this belly, this vagina, this bottom, these legs, these shoulders - this is you. And these men have been ordered to destroy it.

“Tie her.”

Your arms are hauled over your head and bound to the whipping post. You are about to serve your sentence.

“Begin.”
 
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Barbaria1

Rebel Leader
Staff member
You know what’s been decided. You know what they’re going to do to you. The sentence has been read, and they’re leading you swiftly through a corridor to carry it out.

Now you’re in a courtyard full of soldiers, and they’re all looking at you.

“Strip her.”

Your tunic tears at the neckline and they yank it down to leave you naked. Your feet can churn a little as you try to discretely use your bare thighs for modesty, and your arms can search randomly for a good place to rest to hide your body, but nothing can help. You are naked. You can feel a dozen pairs of judging male eyes from all angles, surrounding you, viewing your curves, your breasts, the arch of your back, the swell of your bottom, the shape of your hips - all the intimate details of your body that you have always concealed from all but those very few to whom you have entrusted them at times.

Suddenly, you are your body, and nothing else. You have no possessions - not even basic clothing-, no personality, no thoughts that matter any more. This naked body - these breasts, this belly, this vagina, this bottom, these legs, these shoulders - this is you. And these men have been ordered to destroy it.

“Tie her.”

Your arms are hauled over your head and bound to the whipping post. You are about to serve your sentence.

“Begin.”

Heart thumping in my chest ... mind awhirl ... can this really be happening to me?
 

LittleSiss

Sorceress
Buying fruit and veggies and then swept off to who knows where. But what of my master?

What time or truth be this?

Alone, together.

Unprotected and naked in the street.

Screams from up ahead, screams from my skin ... back and sides.

Pleasing sights for the sickness.

A delightful winter sky.

Alone among many in the starlight.

He never looked over or up ... just passed through as I screamed in the cold chilling wind.

thessela-anim-01-crux-gif.267270.gif
 

Juan1234

Governor
Here’s a little vignette inspired by the photographic artwork of Bor1960: https://www.deviantart.com/bor1960

There were probably two dozen soldiers in the group that approached the farmhouse. Before their captain could even arrive at the front porch, his men began pulling long wooden poles and stakes from the armored truck that had growled slowly along with them up the road. With a good-humored spring, the captain skipped the step up to the porch and leaned forward to rap on the door, then swung back to his rear foot, kicking the porch wood and clicking his boots against each other while he waited.

A middle-aged woman arrived at the door, bewildered, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Frau Zimmer?”

“Yes? Is it Georg?”

“Is your daughter at home?” Just then, a much younger woman appeared behind her, not more than 19 years old. “Ah, wonderful,” the captain continued. “Please, step outside.” The mother and daughter emerged hesitantly from the house.

“Is it Georg?” The mother asked again.

“It is. I’m sorry to say that he deserted his company last week.” The captain’s tone was almost bored.

“Deserted?”

“Yes. But he was caught two days ago and executed.” Both women let out a cry of grief and began hugging one another. “Of course you have also been sentenced to death.” Here, both looked up suddenly, shocked.

“Us? But why...?”

“Kindly step this way and take off your clothes please.” And he began leading the daughter off the porch by the hand, so that the mother could not help but follow. The soldiers had already finished erecting their portable wooden frame, and were setting small chopped logs on end under two of the three nooses dangling from it.

“But Sir!” the mother protested, “we have always been loyal to the Fatherland! Our whole family! There must be a mistake!”

“The sentence is final, Frau Zimmer. Now please undress. We wouldn’t want to have to do anything unpleasant.”

Still in a state of shock, the mother began to fumble with the buttons of her blouse. Her daughter began weeping uncontrollably.

“Do as they say, Lisel.” Amid her tears, the daughter also obeyed. And so, surrounded by two dozen waiting soldiers, under the shadow of the nooses, mother and daughter bared their breasts, tossing blouses and brassieres on the ground.

“Lisel,” The mother whispered as they pulled down their skirts, “Offer them...” she finished pulling the her skirt down and stood up naked, then rubbed her vulva for a moment, wide eyes signaling to her daughter. The daughter looked paralyzed in the crossfire of an impossibility, frozen with her thumbs inside her waistline, her skirt halfway down her hips, bent over just a little, ready to strip completely.

The captain rolled his eyes. “Don’t bother, Frauline. Do you know how many cunts have been offered to me today?” The daughter stayed frozen, breasts hanging outward a little as she stooped, eyes wide, confused, hopeless. “Please,” said the captain, with an elegant gesture of chivalry, “continue.” She pushed the thick skirt to her ankles and stood, an arm over her nipples, a hand over her sex. Slowly she stepped out of the skirt and nudged it away with her toes. The captain gave a perfunctory polite smile and turned away to pace while two of his men bound the condemned women’s hands behind their backs, then pushed them toward the short chopped logs balanced under the gallows. Understanding what was expected of them, and without the will to put up a futile resistance, mother and daughter each raised a leg to place a foot in top of the log intended for her, then, after a little bouncing, balancing, and help from the soldiers, managed to bring the other foot up. There was hardly room for two feet on the round surface of the chopped log, and their arms were bound, so they stood there very precariously. Twice the mother began to fall and had to be caught by the soldier assigned to her.

Two more soldiers fitted the nooses around their necks and pulled the knots until they were snug. Their was very little slack in the ropes; they would not have far to fall.

“Sir!” the mother suddenly burst, “I have a pan on the stove, Sir. It will burn soon.”

“My men will see to the pan, Frau Zimmer.”

“It’s vegetables, Sir.” Her hands were squirming in her bonds, she was breathing hard, and her face was twitching constantly with nerves. “You are welcome to them, Sir, but they don’t have any spices on them yet. I’m a good cook, Sir, and I can finish them for you...”

“Frau Zimmer,” The Captain was directly in front of her now, and he rested one boot on her log, pinching her bare toes. “My men will see to your vegetables.” And before she could say anything else, he had shoved the log away, and she dropped with a sickening, audible tug on the thin rope. Her kicking toes extended lower than his knee as she dangled, just a little above the ground.

“And you, Frauline,” he immediately moved on to the daughter, who by now was not only weeping, but shaking violently, arms pinned back now, unable to hide her shame. “Please don’t take offense. You are truly a beautiful girl. But I’m a married man.” And he kicked her log away as well.
 

Barbaria1

Rebel Leader
Staff member
Here’s a little vignette inspired by the photographic artwork of Bor1960: https://www.deviantart.com/bor1960

There were probably two dozen soldiers in the group that approached the farmhouse. Before their captain could even arrive at the front porch, his men began pulling long wooden poles and stakes from the armored truck that had growled slowly along with them up the road. With a good-humored spring, the captain skipped the step up to the porch and leaned forward to rap on the door, then swung back to his rear foot, kicking the porch wood and clicking his boots against each other while he waited.

A middle-aged woman arrived at the door, bewildered, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Frau Zimmer?”

“Yes? Is it Georg?”

“Is your daughter at home?” Just then, a much younger woman appeared behind her, not more than 19 years old. “Ah, wonderful,” the captain continued. “Please, step outside.” The mother and daughter emerged hesitantly from the house.

“Is it Georg?” The mother asked again.

“It is. I’m sorry to say that he deserted his company last week.” The captain’s tone was almost bored.

“Deserted?”

“Yes. But he was caught two days ago and executed.” Both women let out a cry of grief and began hugging one another. “Of course you have also been sentenced to death.” Here, both looked up suddenly, shocked.

“Us? But why...?”

“Kindly step this way and take off your clothes please.” And he began leading the daughter off the porch by the hand, so that the mother could not help but follow. The soldiers had already finished erecting their portable wooden frame, and were setting small chopped logs on end under two of the three nooses dangling from it.

“But Sir!” the mother protested, “we have always been loyal to the Fatherland! Our whole family! There must be a mistake!”

“The sentence is final, Frau Zimmer. Now please undress. We wouldn’t want to have to do anything unpleasant.”

Still in a state of shock, the mother began to fumble with the buttons of her blouse. Her daughter began weeping uncontrollably.

“Do as they say, Lisel.” Amid her tears, the daughter also obeyed. And so, surrounded by two dozen waiting soldiers, under the shadow of the nooses, mother and daughter bared their breasts, tossing blouses and brassieres on the ground.

“Lisel,” The mother whispered as they pulled down their skirts, “Offer them...” she finished pulling the her skirt down and stood up naked, then rubbed her vulva for a moment, wide eyes signaling to her daughter. The daughter looked paralyzed in the crossfire of an impossibility, frozen with her thumbs inside her waistline, her skirt halfway down her hips, bent over just a little, ready to strip completely.

The captain rolled his eyes. “Don’t bother, Frauline. Do you know how many cunts have been offered to me today?” The daughter stayed frozen, breasts hanging outward a little as she stooped, eyes wide, confused, hopeless. “Please,” said the captain, with an elegant gesture of chivalry, “continue.” She pushed the thick skirt to her ankles and stood, an arm over her nipples, a hand over her sex. Slowly she stepped out of the skirt and nudged it away with her toes. The captain gave a perfunctory polite smile and turned away to pace while two of his men bound the condemned women’s hands behind their backs, then pushed them toward the short chopped logs balanced under the gallows. Understanding what was expected of them, and without the will to put up a futile resistance, mother and daughter each raised a leg to place a foot in top of the log intended for her, then, after a little bouncing, balancing, and help from the soldiers, managed to bring the other foot up. There was hardly room for two feet on the round surface of the chopped log, and their arms were bound, so they stood there very precariously. Twice the mother began to fall and had to be caught by the soldier assigned to her.

Two more soldiers fitted the nooses around their necks and pulled the knots until they were snug. Their was very little slack in the ropes; they would not have far to fall.

“Sir!” the mother suddenly burst, “I have a pan on the stove, Sir. It will burn soon.”

“My men will see to the pan, Frau Zimmer.”

“It’s vegetables, Sir.” Her hands were squirming in her bonds, she was breathing hard, and her face was twitching constantly with nerves. “You are welcome to them, Sir, but they don’t have any spices on them yet. I’m a good cook, Sir, and I can finish them for you...”

“Frau Zimmer,” The Captain was directly in front of her now, and he rested one boot on her log, pinching her bare toes. “My men will see to your vegetables.” And before she could say anything else, he had shoved the log away, and she dropped with a sickening, audible tug on the thin rope. Her kicking toes extended lower than his knee as she dangled, just a little above the ground.

“And you, Frauline,” he immediately moved on to the daughter, who by now was not only weeping, but shaking violently, arms pinned back now, unable to hide her shame. “Please don’t take offense. You are truly a beautiful girl. But I’m a married man.” And he kicked her log away as well.

Well told. A very good read. :popcorn:
 

Juan1234

Governor
What do we do now, the two of us?
I have to keep watch, but it is boring work, and my feet ache after a couple of hours.
You just have to die.
It's an awkward circumstance - how long do we have to do this?
You're naked - which is nice - but also hard to overcome.
How could we hold a conversation?
Oh - and you're nailed to a beam of wood; what else is there to talk about?
There's nothing but the obvious to say,
And surely you don't want to talk about it.
Yet we'll share the next day or two, or three,
Two lonely souls, waiting.

You just thrust your hips forward to pee.
(Only a little ran down your legs.)
Should I pretend I didn't see?
I don't think you'd like it if I dried your legs for you,
Yet it's all I can think to do.
Should I apologize?
I'm sure you won't.

As bored as we both are here, you are too busy to bother with apologies.
All your muscles strain.
Your eyes squeeze shut, as if you could will away the pain through concentration.
You heave slow, shuddering breaths, then hold them,
Grunt a little,
Strain a little,
Move your whole body just the smallest amount,
Adjust ever so slightly how your bottom presses against the cross,
Then let it all out in exhaustion,
As if that tiny movement, and all the straining it required, took all the strength you had.
It looks like so much work to die this way.

If I talk to you, I'll feel I'm interrupting.
I'll let you focus on what you have to do -
It obviously takes more effort than what I have to do.
I'll try to give you some privacy -
I know what you're doing is usually done in private.
I'll try to pretend I don't notice you're naked,
Don't notice you're so occupied with dying.
I know if it were your choice you wouldn't be doing it in front of me.
I'll let you finish.
 

LittleSiss

Sorceress
What do we do now, the two of us?
I have to keep watch, but it is boring work, and my feet ache after a couple of hours.
You just have to die.
It's an awkward circumstance - how long do we have to do this?
You're naked - which is nice - but also hard to overcome.
How could we hold a conversation?
Oh - and you're nailed to a beam of wood; what else is there to talk about?
There's nothing but the obvious to say,
And surely you don't want to talk about it.
Yet we'll share the next day or two, or three,
Two lonely souls, waiting.

You just thrust your hips forward to pee.
(Only a little ran down your legs.)
Should I pretend I didn't see?
I don't think you'd like it if I dried your legs for you,
Yet it's all I can think to do.
Should I apologize?
I'm sure you won't.

As bored as we both are here, you are too busy to bother with apologies.
All your muscles strain.
Your eyes squeeze shut, as if you could will away the pain through concentration.
You heave slow, shuddering breaths, then hold them,
Grunt a little,
Strain a little,
Move your whole body just the smallest amount,
Adjust ever so slightly how your bottom presses against the cross,
Then let it all out in exhaustion,
As if that tiny movement, and all the straining it required, took all the strength you had.
It looks like so much work to die this way.

If I talk to you, I'll feel I'm interrupting.
I'll let you focus on what you have to do -
It obviously takes more effort than what I have to do.
I'll try to give you some privacy -
I know what you're doing is usually done in private.
I'll try to pretend I don't notice you're naked,
Don't notice you're so occupied with dying.
I know if it were your choice you wouldn't be doing it in front of me.
I'll let you finish.
This honestly sounds like a Spencer Tracy / Katharine Hepburn movie!

;)
 
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Horseman68

Executioner
Juan’s vignette of the German officer hanging the two females; so well-written as all of his works. Do find it difficult however to see this mobile unit, having already executed so many that day with likely more to come, carrying about and assembling their portable scaffold each time. Particularly with the German penchant to leave their victims hanging about as deterrence. Just a thought that the ladies porch have may served, but a story following the officer and his little band would be intriguing.
 

Juan1234

Governor
Juan’s vignette of the German officer hanging the two females; so well-written as all of his works. Do find it difficult however to see this mobile unit, having already executed so many that day with likely more to come, carrying about and assembling their portable scaffold each time. Particularly with the German penchant to leave their victims hanging about as deterrence. Just a thought that the ladies porch have may served, but a story following the officer and his little band would be intriguing.
Thanks, Horseman, for your kind words. If you read much of my work, you'll find that practical details and technical realism tend to escape me. :) At least you have the option of ignoring me if it bothers you - my poor wife has to put up with my loose grip on the practical world day after day. :facepalm:
 

Horseman68

Executioner
Thanks, Horseman, for your kind words. If you read much of my work, you'll find that practical details and technical realism tend to escape me. :) At least you have the option of ignoring me if it bothers you - my poor wife has to put up with my loose grip on the practical world day after day. :facepalm:
Juan. My only concern about your many mini-masterpieces is always wanting continuance of them — pump priming? As for tech or other realism, not sure of the reality ref why we are here. Hope you and your ever-forbearing better half have a great/safe New Year — and, you a fruitful one.
 
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