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Golgotha

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GabriellaSivilla

Magistrate
Dear all,

here is my latest story. Before I start, I just wanted to say a few words about it, in particular about how I conceived it.

First of all, the story is written from the point of view of the protagonist, the victim. It goes without saying that she's me, and that I tried as much as possible to identify myself with the character. The descriptions are based on the sensations of the protagonist, on what she sees and hears. A partial vision but, in my opinion, very effective and involving, too.

Also for this, the background story is kept to a minimum. Everything takes place in the "here and now" of the protagonist, and there is only a brief mention of what previously happened, just to make it clear the background to the reader. I trust that the average reader will be more interested in what is happening on the scene then in the background story.

The story is violent. Very. Strong. Very. But in my mind an execution on the cross, in which a young girl is tortured to death, cannot be otherwise. Being then a public torture, all the most spectacular aspects are exalted. And they have to be terrifying, and obscene, to serve as a warning to onlookers. Then, everything takes place in the immediate aftermath of a conquest, which adds drama and violence to the scene.

That said, I hope you enjoy the story, and please post your comments, of any kind. They are of great help to the writers. By the way, I would LOVE if somebody wants to illustrate it.

Kisses !
Gabriella

_____________________________________________________________________________________

GOLGOTHA

by Gabriella Sivilla



It's there, in front of me. It's scary.

It's a low hill, no trees, almost no grass. Clay. And stakes driven into the ground. Dirty. And white stuff around. Bones. Broken bones.

"AAAAAHHHHH"

One of the soldiers has hit me with the whip. It's one of those long ones, made of hardened leather, with a metal tip. Terrible. The tip enters my tender flesh, tearing it apart and drawing blood. I stagger, bend one leg and hit the ground, painfully, with one knee.

"WHORE!!! STAND-UP!!! STAND-UP AND MOVE, OR I SWEAR I'LL SKIN YOU ALIVE WITH MY WHIP AND THEN I'LL MAKE YOU ASS BUGGERED BY A HORSE! STAND-UP!!!"

Whore. That's what they call me. And all possible insults, all obscenities. Slut. Bitch. I'll fuck you. I'll break your pussy. Shouting, screaming in my ears with full force. They didn't done anything else since they took me.

But I'm not, and I haven't been, a whore. I am the daughter of the king of this little kingdom. Indeed, I was. And when the Romans arrived, and the generals went out with the soldiers to face them, I stayed in the palace. And when the generals betrayed, and the Romans entered the city, I was the first they came for, guided by their directions.

I'm dressed. They don't let me march naked. They took a long cloth and wrapped it around my body, tying it around my waist, making sure to leave one of my long legs clearly visible. And another knot on one shoulder, leaving one of my breasts exposed. Tender breasts.

When they took me to the courtyard, they stripped me of my clothes. Always yelling, always shouting obscenities. Punching me in the stomach while someone held their arms firmly inside my back. Slapping me. Spitting on my face. Squeezing my boobs until I screamed in pain. Twisting my nipples. Surrounded by stinking, callous soldiers, guarded by two men on horseback, in armor, their eyes hard.

When they brought the patibulum and dropped it on the ground, I heard a dull thud, amid the cries of the soldiers. The insults: "Bitch, is there where you get fucked on, every night?" "How many buggered you tonight? Did you scream? Never how much you'll scream today, while we're butchering you."

Then someone brought a long cloth. And the ropes. And another brought my makeup and took out a brush. He painted my boobs in red, laughing like crazy, while the others held me down. And then the cheeks. And then a red circle around the pussy. And another one on the butt. And everyone was laughing and snickering like crazy.

Then they dressed me in the dirty cloth; it's a rag, full of holes, there are lice on it. But they have taken care to leave my back naked. And they tied the patibulum on my shoulders. It's heavy, so heavy. And they pushed me forward.

In arriving here, barefoot, I stopped several times, exhausted, overwhelmed by the cacophony of soldiers' insults and shouts from the crowd. Deafening cacophony. And each time they whipped me, over and over again, driving the metal tip of the whip deep into my flesh. Causing my hot blood to smear the fabric on my butt in bright red.

And now here I am, contemplating the hill on which I will die in excruciating torment. At eighteen. Among people who will bask in my screams of pain, who will cum to see me writhing from pain on the cross.

"MOVE IT BITCHAAAA!!!!" "DAMN I TOLD YOU I'LL FUCK YOUR ASS AND I WILL, BITCH!!!" I scream from fear, while he reaches down and grabs with one hand my hair and yells in my ear, and with the other lowers the cloth around my butt. I feel him shoving something hard between my ass cheeks, probing for my little hole. The handle of the whip. I panic: "No no... please... noooooo !" I cry. "Please, no, no, I move, I move.. ! nooo ..."

He stops, I get up with difficulty and take a step forward. Then another, staggering under the wooden pole, blood running down my bare back, that they left me naked, so they could whip me bloody. He looks at me, his gaze fixed on my bloody back, on my long legs. Someone from the crowd shouts: "Look at the beautiful ass of the whore!" Because he left my butt exposed. A tear rolls down my cheek and streaks the red on my cheeks.

We continue slowly, climbing the hill. I can get a closer look at the human remains. The stench fills my nostrils. The ground becomes more compact. The screams that, if possible, get even louder.

The soldiers lead me to one of the posts, making way through the crowd.


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montycrusto

God-Emperor
Dear all,

here is my latest story. Before I start, I just wanted to say a few words about it, in particular about how I conceived it.

First of all, the story is written from the point of view of the protagonist, the victim. It goes without saying that she's me, and that I tried as much as possible to identify myself with the character. The descriptions are based on the sensations of the protagonist, on what she sees and hears. A partial vision but, in my opinion, very effective and involving, too.

Also for this, the background story is kept to a minimum. Everything takes place in the "here and now" of the protagonist, and there is only a brief mention of what previously happened, just to make it clear the background to the reader. I trust that the average reader will be more interested in what is happening on the scene then in the background story.

The story is violent. Very. Strong. Very. But in my mind an execution on the cross, in which a young girl is tortured to death, cannot be otherwise. Being then a public torture, all the most spectacular aspects are exalted. And they have to be terrifying, and obscene, to serve as a warning to onlookers. Then, everything takes place in the immediate aftermath of a conquest, which adds drama and violence to the scene.

That said, I hope you enjoy the story, and please post your comments, of any kind. They are of great help to the writers. By the way, I would LOVE if somebody wants to illustrate it.

Kisses !
Gabriella

_____________________________________________________________________________________

GOLGOTHA

by Gabriella Sivilla



It's there, in front of me. It's scary.

It's a low hill, no trees, almost no grass. Clay. And stakes driven into the ground. Dirty. And white stuff around. Bones. Broken bones.

"AAAAAHHHHH"

One of the soldiers has hit me with the whip. It's one of those long ones, made of hardened leather, with a metal tip. Terrible. The tip enters my tender flesh, tearing it apart and drawing blood. I stagger, bend one leg and hit the ground, painfully, with one knee.

"WHORE!!! STAND-UP!!! STAND-UP AND MOVE, OR I SWEAR I'LL SKIN YOU ALIVE WITH MY WHIP AND THEN I'LL MAKE YOU ASS BUGGERED BY A HORSE! STAND-UP!!!"

Whore. That's what they call me. And all possible insults, all obscenities. Slut. Bitch. I'll fuck you. I'll break your pussy. Shouting, screaming in my ears with full force. They didn't done anything else since they took me.

But I'm not, and I haven't been, a whore. I am the daughter of the king of this little kingdom. Indeed, I was. And when the Romans arrived, and the generals went out with the soldiers to face them, I stayed in the palace. And when the generals betrayed, and the Romans entered the city, I was the first they came for, guided by their directions.

I'm dressed. They don't let me march naked. They took a long cloth and wrapped it around my body, tying it around my waist, making sure to leave one of my long legs clearly visible. And another knot on one shoulder, leaving one of my breasts exposed. Tender breasts.

When they took me to the courtyard, they stripped me of my clothes. Always yelling, always shouting obscenities. Punching me in the stomach while someone held their arms firmly inside my back. Slapping me. Spitting on my face. Squeezing my boobs until I screamed in pain. Twisting my nipples. Surrounded by stinking, callous soldiers, guarded by two men on horseback, in armor, their eyes hard.

When they brought the patibulum and dropped it on the ground, I heard a dull thud, amid the cries of the soldiers. The insults: "Bitch, is there where you get fucked on, every night?" "How many buggered you tonight? Did you scream? Never how much you'll scream today, while we're butchering you."

Then someone brought a long cloth. And the ropes. And another brought my makeup and took out a brush. He painted my boobs in red, laughing like crazy, while the others held me down. And then the cheeks. And then a red circle around the pussy. And another one on the butt. And everyone was laughing and snickering like crazy.

Then they dressed me in the dirty cloth; it's a rag, full of holes, there are lice on it. But they have taken care to leave my back naked. And they tied the patibulum on my shoulders. It's heavy, so heavy. And they pushed me forward.

In arriving here, barefoot, I stopped several times, exhausted, overwhelmed by the cacophony of soldiers' insults and shouts from the crowd. Deafening cacophony. And each time they whipped me, over and over again, driving the metal tip of the whip deep into my flesh. Causing my hot blood to smear the fabric on my butt in bright red.

And now here I am, contemplating the hill on which I will die in excruciating torment. At eighteen. Among people who will bask in my screams of pain, who will cum to see me writhing from pain on the cross.

"MOVE IT BITCHAAAA!!!!" "DAMN I TOLD YOU I'LL FUCK YOUR ASS AND I WILL, BITCH!!!" I scream from fear, while he reaches down and grabs with one hand my hair and yells in my ear, and with the other lowers the cloth around my butt. I feel him shoving something hard between my ass cheeks, probing for my little hole. The handle of the whip. I panic: "No no... please... noooooo !" I cry. "Please, no, no, I move, I move.. ! nooo ..."

He stops, I get up with difficulty and take a step forward. Then another, staggering under the wooden pole, blood running down my bare back, that they left me naked, so they could whip me bloody. He looks at me, his gaze fixed on my bloody back, on my long legs. Someone from the crowd shouts: "Look at the beautiful ass of the whore!" Because he left my butt exposed. A tear rolls down my cheek and streaks the red on my cheeks.

We continue slowly, climbing the hill. I can get a closer look at the human remains. The stench fills my nostrils. The ground becomes more compact. The screams that, if possible, get even louder.

The soldiers lead me to one of the posts, making way through the crowd.


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Gabriella, I love your writing so much; this is such a joy for me to read.
he reaches down and grabs with one hand my hair and yells in my ear, and with the other lowers the cloth around my butt. I feel him shoving something hard between my ass cheeks, probing for my little hole. The handle of the whip.
This is such a beautiful moment. You cast such a spell with your writing, I strongly suspect you might be a witch :eek: :devil:
 

wikk

Magistrate
Fantastic Story!
Thank you Lady Gabriella, poor beautiful Princess - I'm trying to imagine it all - as you described - those cruel, lustful soldiers, this bloodthirsty crowd ...
How much you have been humiliated, how much you suffer!
I would like to be there, participate in it - but not to be one of those eager to see your suffering, humiliation - but rather as the one who is led to Golgotha with you, behind you ... to share your fate ... accompanying you, co-suffering with You - there on the cross ... the cross with me nailed to it, to further humiliate you ... the Princess whom they crucify next to common, ordinary criminal - naked, shamelessly excited by her view... for the mocking image! .. this is me there - the young slave accompanying you ...
I'm sorry if it doesn't fit story you are telling us - but it's my first association, imagining this situation with me there ...
 

GabriellaSivilla

Magistrate
Fantastic Story!
Thank you Lady Gabriella, poor beautiful Princess - I'm trying to imagine it all - as you described - those cruel, lustful soldiers, this bloodthirsty crowd ...
How much you have been humiliated, how much you suffer!
I would like to be there, participate in it - but not to be one of those eager to see your suffering, humiliation - but rather as the one who is led to Golgotha with you, behind you ... to share your fate ... accompanying you, co-suffering with You - there on the cross ... the cross with me nailed to it, to further humiliate you ... the Princess whom they crucify next to common, ordinary criminal - naked, shamelessly excited by her view... for the mocking image! .. this is me there - the young slave accompanying you ...
I'm sorry if it doesn't fit story you are telling us - but it's my first association, imagining this situation with me there ...
Dear Wikk,

I am not a Lady! No more... or maybe I never was. Stay away from me, they will do awful things to me! But many thanks for the kinds words you said! :)

Kisses!
G.
 

GabriellaSivilla

Magistrate
Hey Gabriella, this is the first of your stories that I have read, and it won't be the last. You have created a punchy, to-the-point, violent execution ...

It is easy to imagine the fear that infuses the confused, terrified and tormented young girl. Great work.
Yeah, Fossy, exactly what I wanted to do! I am so happy that you appreciate what I did. Staigth to the point, violent. I tried to put myself in the view of the victim: the fear would be unbearable. And the way how I describe things: flashes of what happening, just from the point of view of the victim. Hope to be effective.

So kind of you, Fossy, kisses!
G.
 

GabriellaSivilla

Magistrate
While waiting for the next installment, somebody has asked me if my avi looks like my real self.

Well, my avi was done some time ago by jucundus (great, great artist) for another story of mine, and is quite similar to me. Here I am posting some of the renders he did, the ones that probably resemble me more. I choose some close-up of the face, and a couple full body.

I know that a good visualization, while reading stories, is important (particularly for men, I am told), so I am attaching them here to help the readers to get involved as much as possible in the scene. Enjoy!

Kisses!
G.
 

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Iconoclast12

Executioner
While waiting for the next installment, somebody has asked me if my avi looks like my real self.

Well, my avi was done some time ago by jucundus (great, great artist) for another story of mine, and is quite similar to me. Here I am posting some of the renders he did, the ones that probably resemble me more. I choose some close-up of the face, and a couple full body.

I know that a good visualization, while reading stories, is important (particularly for men, I am told), so I am attaching them here to help the readers to get involved as much as possible in the scene. Enjoy!

Kisses!
G.
Thanks for sharing! That scourging scene from Jucundus is one of my favorites! We’re very lucky as a community to get to see it, so thanks for sharing it!
 

GabriellaSivilla

Magistrate
This is second part of my story.

As the rest of the story, this is strong, violent, direct, and written from the point of the view of the victim, in short flashes of sensations.

Hope you like it. I will be happy that you write your comments and suggestions, because they are really of great help and a big encouragment.

Enjoy! :)

____________________________________________

GOLGOTHA
Part two

by Gabriella Sivilla


I'm there, in front of the pole. An officer is nearby, on horseback, and looks at me from the top of the beast. Its stench fills my nostrils. The horse has shit, and the stench mixes with the stench around, stench of the dead.

I feel them turning me around, someone has grabbed the patibulum and is turning it, so that my back is to the post, and I face the crowd. I see them, the hate in their eyes, they look berserk, they shout. They scream a lot. I shiver, shiver with fear.

Then, one of the soldiers approaches and starts pulling the rag that covers me. "Oh God, they want to strip me in front of everyone!", I think. Because I hadn't imagine they could strip me naked in from of them, in front of this crazy mob. My legs buckle, and I would fall forward were it not for the two holding the crossbeam.

I just hang from it. The soldier doesn't even notice that I am just hanging, and that I am terrified.

He pulls hard, frowning. The rag has got caught under the pole, and around my shoulders. He pulls again, harder, and I feel something tearing as he bares my chest "riiiipp". Both tender breasts now on display for all to see. He roughly grabs one of them with his dirt hand, and shows it to the crowd: "Nice melons you have here, whore!"

The red they are painted with drives them crazy.

They shout, and laugh at me.

He doesn't stop, he continues stripping me. He pulls the rag again, letting the rough fabric slide on my smooth, silky, skin. More and more of my lithe body on display. He bares my belly. Then my pussy. And when my shaved baby pussy is on display, everyone screams, and they insult me, and say they can't wait to shove their cocks in my fucking cunt, and that they want to fuck the hell out of me, and that the soldiers should let them give me the shafting I deserve.


I watch them, my gaze fixed on them, my teeth chattering. Even my arms, tied to the pole, tremble with fear, and I feel a stinging anguish, deep inside my guts, growing.

Hot big tears roll down my cheeks, as I start crying, when the soldier kneels before me and forces me to lift my feet, one after the other, to remove the rag which has pooled around my ankles.

Then he gets up, looks at me, hits me hard on the cheek with the palm of his hand, and spits on my face: "BITCH!!!! We haven't started with you yet! What are you crying about!"

They leave me like this, making me look at them, offering my naked body to the crowd, the soldiers around stepping away, so as not to obstruct the view, letting the full force of the crowd's shouts and insults hit me. And the insults and comments about my body that are so vulgar that humiliate directly my soul. It's like a gust of hot, stinking air, that hits me. Someone takes a stone and throws it at me. It grazes my arm, and hits the crossbeam with a thud, and bounces back.

The commander, the one on the horse, with icy, grey eyes, nods.

At his nod, the two soldiers quickly lower the patibulum to the ground, and me with it. I bend my legs, and my butt touches the ground. And when my skin, deeply gouged by the cruel hits from the metallic hideous point of the whip, grazes the ground, I scream in pain.

I clearly feel the little stones and the dirt entering my wounds, I feel the hard clay on my wounded skin. Mine is a long, incredulous screams: "aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh", as the soldiers move the pole, and one takes my feet to make me lay down on the dirty floor. He only lets go of me when I calm down a bit, the stones on my back sending twinges of pain every time I move.

Then the centurion gets off his horse.

He's big, he's tall, dressed in his uniform. The muscles of his arms are strong, so evident under the short sleeves. He ostentatiously approaches me, with slow steps, his sandals treading on the clay. He stands for a second, in front of me, then lowers the bottom part of his uniform, letting it drop on the floor. Then he rolls the rest, up around his belt. He does it on purpose.

To show me his cock.

I still have my arms tied around the crossbeam, and this is behind my neck, forcing me to tilt my head and look forward. I can't escape, can't look at the sky, I have to look in front of me, at the crowd, and his cock in front of me. His heavy balls. Its tip already partially exposed, his semi-erect shaft.

He calmly spits on his hand, wraps it around his member, and starts jerking off. I whine, as his thick cock immediately gets hard. I bend my legs, and squeeze them, moaning piteously. He turns around, slowly, to let the crowd look at his thick cock, his hairy, heavy balls hanging from the base of its shaft.

Then he turns and leans over me. It's easy for him to spread my legs, he's much stronger than me.

" Nooo .. noooo .. mercy.. mercy...." I whimper, as he gets into position and I feel his breath on my face, his smell of sweat and horse in my nostrils. He gets on top of me, his legs between my legs, his weight holding me down. I feel a hand between my thighs, and his cock pushing.

"AAAHHHII AAAHHHII!!"

I feel a prick and a scratch inside my pussy. It's not his cock that has entered me. It's by a twig, dry, hard, taken from who knows where, that he has slipped inside me and he is moving, without being seen, to scratch me from the inside.

"AMMHII!" I moan, and he bites hard my ear, with his teeth, then thrusts his tongue inside. And when he keeps on licking me, and moves his hand between my thighs, he takes the chance to whisper, his tone cold as ice: " mmmhhh ... you have to wait a bit longer, for the cocks, baby girl. We want to make sure that everyone sees that we fuck your blood out." And he pushes the stick deep, with intention, pricking me there, drawing blood, at the entrance to the uterus.

I shout: "AAAAAHH!!!". The crowd screams.

I feel him pull it out, then, with a grunt, he thrusts his cock inside me.

I feel it enter all the way, hard and long, balls-deep, filling my pussy, my pussy lips stretching and wrapping tightly around his shaft. I gasp in pain as he waits a moment, pulls back, and slams it back in again, hard, a grin on his ugly, cold face. A scar on his cheek.

Then, he starts pumping. His cock moves inside me, back and forth, my pussy burning with pain, my back rubbing on the ground, my arms trapped under the crossbeam as he fucks me.

I moan, from pain, from fear, from shock, as he concentrates on shoving his hard thick cock between my legs, hitting me, willing to hurt me with his cock. One hand grips my left tit and squeezes tightly, long dirty nails digging into my tender flesh, and he bites into my neck, and he grunts again as he drives his rock hard cock deep into my tender pussy.

He pumps. And pumps. And pumps. With rage. With fury.

Then, all of the sudden, I feel his body getting rigid, his cock inside me hardest than ever, the tip pressing painfully on the cervix. And he explodes, pumping his hot cum into me, in one, two, three loads, beastly grunting all the way.

His dirty sticky cum burns inside me.

He stays one second, then he pushes on his arms and lifts himself up. His cock is covered in blood and sperm. On the inside of my right thigh a trickle of scarlet blood trails down on my white skin.

He has raped me.

He smiles, his usual icy smile, turns towards the crowd, his cock still stiff, and points with his thick forefinger at my thighs: "That's how Rome's enemies end up." He pauses, grins, then adds: "With their pussy smashed, hanging from a cross."

The crowd cheers, yells obscenities. The ones closest to me point to their crutch: "WHORE!!! COME HERE!!! I'VE GOT SOMETHING FOR YOU!!!" Someone shudders at the cruelty of the violence, a shiver down his spine, but his cock is rock-hard.


The centurion turns to his squad.

His voice is firm like steel: "You scums, fill her pussy with your jizz, I want to see it drip down between her thighs when we hang her up, and butcher her like a pig."

I whine. Instinctively I pull at the ropes around my arms, from fear. But I am in their hands. I am their victim to torture.

I close my eyes, I can't do anything else. I try to isolate myself, not to see anything.

But I can't defend myself from the insults, the stench, the sharp stabs of pain in my tender pussy and behind my back. I don't resist when the first comes, spreads my legs, and enters me.

He stinks, his breath and his body stink with garlic, wine, animals, sweet, dirt. His hard cock moves inside me, as he fucks me with sharp strokes, grunting, contracting the muscles of his butt to slam his thick dick deep inside me. All of the sudden he starts pumping me fast, like a rabbit in heat, the strokes quick and hard, until he cums inside me. My tight young pussy is profaned again.

He gets up, and another takes his place.

This time I open my eyes and look into his eyes, open, spirited, his breath short as he fucks me, slamming his cock into me, the pain making me moan every time he forces his thick, hard, member inside me, and his gland grazes the scratches on my inner tender pussy walls.

When I scream, the crowd screams, and they keep on insulting me, and shouting obscenities at me. They seem able to invent new ones all the time.

He cums and exits. And another enters me. I can't even close my long beautiful legs. It hurts too much down there. It hurts too much behind me. I just moan and cry.

He cums and exits. And another enters me.

And then another.

And another.

Time dilates, and my brief life seems not to be anything else that a series of rapes. The blood between my thighs mixes with the sperm.

At some point one more approaches. He is tall, strong, well dressed, clean. Like the others, he lays down on me and penetrates me. I feel distinctly his hard cock slide inside my pussy, and my tight pussy stretch around it, sore from having being used so many times in such a short while. My tender flesh protests and sends waves of pain in my brain from all the bruises inside.

But behind my tears, I can see him.

And when he starts pumping, grunting and moaning in pleasure, my tight pussy wrapped around his long thick shaft, his balls slamming between my thighs, I recognize him. My brain still functions in between the flashes of pain.

He is one of my father's generals, the one who betrayed me and brought the Romans to me.

He grunts. Again. Again. Concentrated on fucking me. On taking pleasure from my body.

" ohhh ... mmmhh .. how tight you are! Even after the soldiers have drilled you open up!" He stops for a second, then slams his cock into me, with all his strength. I moan: "mmmmhhhhhhhaaaa".

He pushes on his arms and looks at me. His expression in of rage. Of final revenge.

"You know, I've always wanted to fuck you. Blond hair, green eyes, long legs, fabulous ass."

He grunts, and gyrates his hips so that his cock inside me grazes my inner pussy walls, scratching my inner bruises and hurting me again. I whine. But he does not care. He likes that.

"But your father protected you! He hid you! I jerked off so many times thinking about you! Damned his fucked soul!"

And he shoves his cock hard inside me, hard and long, keeping it there, savoring the feeling.

He pulls back, then resumes banging me with hard strokes, and keeps on banging me, hard, letting all his rage be conveyed in this fuck, until he cums.

When he empties is balls inside me, he arches his back, grunting loud his pleasure. His sticky cum mixes with that of the others. And with my blood.

He bites my neck, leaving a mark with his teeth, and exits.

Someone approaches. He has written on a wooden plaque, with chalk: "Gabriella Sivilla , regina puttanarum". He puts it around my neck, with a rope.

Then, two others rape me.
 
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