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Golgotha

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GabriellaSivilla said:
Writers are NEVER happy. I was thinking about the scene of the rape, which starts with the soldier pushing inside my pussy a short twig, to hurt me there before the actual penetration. I thought and re-thought, and I concluded that maybe another version could be more realistic (and probably more cruel). Here the two pieces, first the original, then the modified version. What do you think?

Kisses!
G.

__________________________________________________________________
(Original version)

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.


_____________________________________________________
(Revised version)

I feel a hand between my thighs, and his cock pushing.

"AAAHHHII AAAHHHII!!"

My pussy lips stretch painfully. But it's not his cock that has entered me. It's two of his thick dirty fingers.

I gasp, my pussy abused by the intrusion of his long fat fingers , my delicate pussy lips that seem close to the point of ripping, stretched around their glide. Then I whimper, as, without being seen, he hooks his hideous claws, his dirty long nails entering the flesh of my tender inner walls, painfully scratching me from the inside: "AAAMMMHHH!!

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 moment, for the cocks, baby girl. We want to make sure that everyone sees that we fuck your blood out." And he cruelly shoves his hand, with intention, his dirty fingernail pricking, and scratching, and drawing blood at the entrance to my uterus.

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

I feel him rotating his hand, sadistically, to be sure to injure me with deep scratches, there, inside me, where it hurts more. Then, he pulls out.

With a grunt, he thrusts his cock inside me.
Click to expand...
I prefer the first, it seems less natural thus more cruel, than fingers, but the word 'twig' implies a small delicate piece of wood, perhaps use 'sharp stick' or similar.
 
GabriellaSivilla said:
Here the two pieces, first the original, then the modified version. What do you think?

Kisses!
G.
Click to expand...
Tree's opinion...

If I was going to rape Gabriella after nailing her to the wood, Tree would use his fingers. If Tree was just going to make Gabriella ride a cornu once she is crucified, Tree might use a 'twig', ...a big fat stick so she's ready for the cornu!!!
 
Next part... enjoy! :) And many many many to all the people posting comments! Kisses, all for you!!! :)

________________________________________________________

GOLGOTHA
Part five

by Gabriella Sivilla


They leave me there, suffering on the dirty ground.

I can't see them, but they get to work, behind me. They pass a long rope through two rings, located at both sides of the vertical stipes. Then they wrap the rope around the crossbeam, in two places, away from the center. Professional work, they know what to do.

They have not forgotten me. As one kneels down to wrap the rope, the other comes over and roughly tugs at my left arm, just to make sure the nail is driven deep in and does not move.

I yell loud. Unmoved, he steps at the other side, and pulls at my other arm, twice this time. I yell again, at this gratuitous torture, still shocked by the agony of the recent nailing: "AAAAHHHHH! SSSSTTTooooppp IIIITT!!! Meeer ... mmmercccyyy... mmmerrcy ... I can't take it anymore... mmmeerraaaaahhhh ". But the soldier doesn't care. He wants to be sure that the nail will remain fix piercing my flesh and bones, nothing else.

The centurion hears me and kneels down in front of me, his frozen eyes staring at me for a moment. "Baby girl, we're just getting started, just getting started."

It's not enough for him. It's not enough for him to tell me that they are going to inflict the most terrible tortures, in few words. He leans over and gives me a slap, hard, my head spinning from the force of the blow: "AAAAHHHIIIIAAAAHHHH!!!"

Cruelly, he grabs my chin and forces me to look at him, in his cold, hatred eyes: "Baby, we're going to butcher you, up there. We're just getting started."

He spits in my face, his warm saliva in my eyes, and he gets up, without another word.

I am there, on the ground.

Now I do not feel just fear. The unbearable fear which made me piss myself. Now it's anguish. A deep anguish, which bites at my bowels. Which comes from the realization that they are putting me to death.

To death!

In excruciating torment.

I shake my head, incredulous that I am like a lamb in a pack of wolves. And that as they hoist me up there on the cross to be tortured to death, I will feel all their ferocity.

I will die on the cross.

The centurion nods, and they start pulling on the ropes. The strings stretch. They stretch. And they start pulling the crossbeam, making it slide on the rough ground, slowly: " aaaaahh AAHHHH nnnooo !!!!"

I try not to scream, but I am not able. I am shortly dragged by the nails driven into my wrists, and the rusty iron, pressing on my bones and nerves, creates excruciating pangs of pain. Little stones stick in the open wounds on my back , the rough ground scraping on my once silky skin.

Torture. Torture. The true meaning of the word, for the first time, gets clear and descends into my soul: inflicting pain just for the pleasure of doing it, with the sole purpose of inflicting atrocious suffering on the victim.

My cries and the commotion awaken the crowd, which was waiting to see other torments. They start screaming again, and their screams and insults mix with my cries of pain and pleas for mercy.

The guards smile for a second. But it's not a smile of pity, it's of amusement, of mockery. The madman looks at me with wide eyes, savoring every moment of my suffering.

"UUUUAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!"

This pull was stronger than the others. They lifted the scaffold off the ground, my hands with it. The pain is excruciating. The crowd screams.

Two of the soldiers bend down, and take the opposite ends of the crossbeam . Two others are behind the stipes, pulling at the rope. From the time they tied the patibulum on my shoulders in the courtyard up to now, the soldiers have been keeping shouting insults at me. Now they seem to have just calmed down: perhaps my blood, my screams, my pain, have temporarily satisfied their thirst for blood.

One of the soldiers looks up: "Commander, we haven't buggered her. Should we turn her against the post and break her fucking ass?"

The commander is there, to my left. I look at him, and at the soldiers, behind the veil of pain, incredulous that they could speak about doing such hideous things to me like that, as a matter of fact.

He thinks about it for a few seconds. Then: "No, this beautiful little girl... she's already had enough cocks for now. We'll open her wide once she's on the cross, high up, so everyone can see."

He nods. A nod from him is enough to decide for the destiny of people.

"UAAAAAAAAAAHH AAAAAAAAAAHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

My cry is that of a slaughtered lamb.

This time they pulled hard on the ropes, on purpose, suddenly lifting the cross beam and my arms for more than a meter, to hurt me. I feel the edges of the square nails scraping the bones of my wrists as my arms start rotating as they bear some of my weight.

"LOOK, THE WHORE ENJOYS IT! LOOK HOW THE WHORE ENJOYS!!!" they shout from the crowd.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH AAAAAAAAAAHH AAAAAAAAAAHHHH"

I yell in pain as the soldiers jerks hard, and my feet leave the ground. They will not return to the ground with me alive.

I stay there, hanging by the nails, the crossbeam swaying slowly suspended from the ropes, the nails in my wrists that are an explosion of pain: "MMMMERRRRRRRCCCCCYYY AAAAHH AAAAAHHH MMERRRCCC ...."

The two soldiers resume pulling, slowly this time. I suffer, I scream, the sharp edges of the square nails which rub against the bones of my wrists are a torture beyond imagination: "THE WHORE IS GETTING WHAT SHE DESERVES! SCREAM, DAMN FUCKING WHORE!""

One of the two pulls more than the other, and the patibulum tilts, and I scream again.

Someone yells: "Slow down, you jerk! Here, yes, get higher!" as if it were ordinary carpentry work, and the hateful wood I'm nailed to levels out.

"Yeah, good ... up now!" and another scream comes out of my throat: "AAAAHHHH", as they give another tug, the two soldiers together this time.

"Yeah, that's fine, that's enough!" and they stop.

I've got high enough.

I don't see it, but someone behind me has put a ladder against the cross. I feel the blows, when they begin to nail the two posts together, and the vibrations that reverberate in my arms.

Then someone nails above my head, above my blond hair, the wooden plate that they had put around my neck while they were raping me. Everyone, looking at me as I die nailed to the cross, will be able to read what I am, for them: "Gabriella Sivilla , regina puttanarum ".
 
Last edited:
GabriellaSivilla said:
Next part... enjoy! :) And many many many to all the people posting comments! Kisses, all for you!!! :)

________________________________________________________

GOLGOTHA
Part five

by Gabriella Sivilla


They leave me there, suffering on the dirty ground.

I can't see them, but they get to work, behind me. They pass a long rope through two rings, located at both sides of the vertical stipes. Then they wrap the rope around the crossbeam, in two places, away from the center. Professional work, they know what to do.

They have not forgotten me. As one kneels down to wrap the rope, the other comes over and roughly tugs at my left arm, just to make sure the nail is driven deep in and does not move.

I yell loud. Unmoved, he steps at the other side, and pulls at my other arm, twice this time. I yell again, at this gratuitous torture, still shocked by the agony of the recent nailing: "AAAAHHHHH! SSSSTTTooooppp IIIITT!!! Meeer ... mmmercccyyy... mmmerrcy ... I can't take it anymore... mmmeerraaaaahhhh ". But the soldier doesn't care. He wants to be sure that the nail will remain fix piercing my flesh and bones, nothing else.

The centurion hears me and kneels down in front of me, his frozen eyes staring at me for a moment. "Baby girl, we're just getting started, just getting started."

It's not enough for him. It's not enough for him to tell me that they are going to inflict the most terrible tortures, in few words. He leans over and gives me a slap, hard, my head spinning from the force of the blow: "AAAAHHHIIIIAAAAHHHH!!!"

Cruelly, he grabs my chin and forces me to look at him, in his cold, hatred eyes: "Baby, we're going to butcher you, up there. We're just getting started."

He spits in my face, his warm saliva in my eyes, and he gets up, without another word.

I am there, on the ground.

Now I do not feel just fear. The unbearable fear which made me piss myself. Now it's anguish. A deep anguish, which bites at my bowels. Which comes from the realization that they are putting me to death.

To death!

In excruciating torment.

I shake my head, incredulous that I am like a lamb in a pack of wolves. And that as they hoist me up there on the cross to be tortured to death, I will feel all their ferocity.

I will die on the cross.

The centurion nods, and they start pulling on the ropes. The strings stretch. They stretch. And they start pulling the crossbeam, making it slide on the rough ground, slowly: " aaaaahh AAHHHH nnnooo !!!!"

I try not to scream, but I am not able. I am shortly dragged by the nails driven into my wrists, and the rusty iron, pressing on my bones and nerves, creates excruciating pangs of pain. Little stones stick in the open wounds on my back , the rough ground scraping on my once silky skin.

Torture. Torture. The true meaning of the word, for the first time, gets clear and descends into my soul: inflicting pain just for the pleasure of doing it, with the sole purpose of inflicting atrocious suffering on the victim.

My cries and the commotion awaken the crowd, which was waiting to see other torments. They start screaming again, and their screams and insults mix with my cries of pain and pleas for mercy.

The guards smile for a second. But it's not a smile of pity, it's of amusement, of mockery. The madman looks at me with wide eyes, savoring every moment of my suffering.

"UUUUAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!"

This pull was stronger than the others. They lifted the scaffold off the ground, my hands with it. The pain is excruciating. The crowd screams.

Two of the soldiers bend down, and take the opposite ends of the crossbeam . Two others are behind the stipes, pulling at the rope. From the time they tied the patibulum on my shoulders in the courtyard up to now, the soldiers have been keeping shouting insults at me. Now they seem to have just calmed down: perhaps my blood, my screams, my pain, have temporarily satisfied their thirst for blood.

One of the soldiers looks up: "Commander, we haven't buggered her. Should we turn her against the post and break her fucking ass?"

The commander is there, to my left. I look at him, and at the soldiers, behind the veil of pain, incredulous that they could speak about doing such hideous things to me like that, as a matter of fact.

He thinks about it for a few seconds. Then: "No, this beautiful little girl... she's already had enough cocks for now. We'll open her wide once she's on the cross, high up, so everyone can see."

He nods. A nod from him is enough to decide for the destiny of people.

"UAAAAAAAAAAHH AAAAAAAAAAHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

My cry is that of a slaughtered lamb.

This time they pulled hard on the ropes, on purpose, suddenly lifting the cross beam and my arms for more than a meter, to hurt me. I feel the edges of the square nails scraping the bones of my wrists as my arms start rotating as they bear some of my weight.

"LOOK, THE WHORE ENJOYS IT! LOOK HOW THE WHORE ENJOYS!!!" they shout from the crowd.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH AAAAAAAAAAHH AAAAAAAAAAHHHH"

I yell in pain as the soldiers jerks hard, and my feet leave the ground. They will not return to the ground with me alive.

I stay there, hanging by the nails, the crossbeam swaying slowly suspended from the ropes, the nails in my wrists that are an explosion of pain: "MMMMERRRRRRRCCCCCYYY AAAAHH AAAAAHHH MMERRRCCC ...."

The two soldiers resume pulling, slowly this time. I suffer, I scream, the sharp edges of the square nails which rub against the bones of my wrists are a torture beyond imagination: "THE WHORE IS GETTING WHAT SHE DESERVES! SCREAM, DAMN FUCKING WHORE!""

One of the two pulls more than the other, and the patibulum tilts, and I scream again.

Someone yells: "Slow down, you jerk! Here, yes, get higher!" as if it were ordinary carpentry work, and the hateful wood I'm nailed to levels out.

"Yeah, good ... up now!" and another scream comes out of my throat: "AAAAHHHH", as they give another tug, the two soldiers together this time.

"Yeah, that's fine, that's enough!" and they stop.

I've got high enough.

I don't see it, but someone behind me has put a ladder against the cross. I feel the blows, when they begin to nail the two posts together, and the vibrations that reverberate in my arms.

Then someone nails above my head, above my blond hair, the wooden plate that they had put around my neck while they were raping me. Everyone, looking at me as I die nailed to the cross, will be able to read what I am, for them: "Gabriella Sivilla , regina puttanarum ".
Click to expand...
Awesome work Gabriella. Wonderfully agonising! :enamorado:
 
GabriellaSivilla said:
Next part... enjoy! :) And many many many to all the people posting comments! Kisses, all for you!!! :)

________________________________________________________

GOLGOTHA
Part five

by Gabriella Sivilla


They leave me there, suffering on the dirty ground.

I can't see them, but they get to work, behind me. They pass a long rope through two rings, located at both sides of the vertical stipes. Then they wrap the rope around the crossbeam, in two places, away from the center. Professional work, they know what to do.

They have not forgotten me. As one kneels down to wrap the rope, the other comes over and roughly tugs at my left arm, just to make sure the nail is driven deep in and does not move.

I yell loud. Unmoved, he steps at the other side, and pulls at my other arm, twice this time. I yell again, at this gratuitous torture, still shocked by the agony of the recent nailing: "AAAAHHHHH! SSSSTTTooooppp IIIITT!!! Meeer ... mmmercccyyy... mmmerrcy ... I can't take it anymore... mmmeerraaaaahhhh ". But the soldier doesn't care. He wants to be sure that the nail will remain fix piercing my flesh and bones, nothing else.

The centurion hears me and kneels down in front of me, his frozen eyes staring at me for a moment. "Baby girl, we're just getting started, just getting started."

It's not enough for him. It's not enough for him to tell me that they are going to inflict the most terrible tortures, in few words. He leans over and gives me a slap, hard, my head spinning from the force of the blow: "AAAAHHHIIIIAAAAHHHH!!!"

Cruelly, he grabs my chin and forces me to look at him, in his cold, hatred eyes: "Baby, we're going to butcher you, up there. We're just getting started."

He spits in my face, his warm saliva in my eyes, and he gets up, without another word.

I am there, on the ground.

Now I do not feel just fear. The unbearable fear which made me piss myself. Now it's anguish. A deep anguish, which bites at my bowels. Which comes from the realization that they are putting me to death.

To death!

In excruciating torment.

I shake my head, incredulous that I am like a lamb in a pack of wolves. And that as they hoist me up there on the cross to be tortured to death, I will feel all their ferocity.

I will die on the cross.

The centurion nods, and they start pulling on the ropes. The strings stretch. They stretch. And they start pulling the crossbeam, making it slide on the rough ground, slowly: " aaaaahh AAHHHH nnnooo !!!!"

I try not to scream, but I am not able. I am shortly dragged by the nails driven into my wrists, and the rusty iron, pressing on my bones and nerves, creates excruciating pangs of pain. Little stones stick in the open wounds on my back , the rough ground scraping on my once silky skin.

Torture. Torture. The true meaning of the word, for the first time, gets clear and descends into my soul: inflicting pain just for the pleasure of doing it, with the sole purpose of inflicting atrocious suffering on the victim.

My cries and the commotion awaken the crowd, which was waiting to see other torments. They start screaming again, and their screams and insults mix with my cries of pain and pleas for mercy.

The guards smile for a second. But it's not a smile of pity, it's of amusement, of mockery. The madman looks at me with wide eyes, savoring every moment of my suffering.

"UUUUAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!"

This pull was stronger than the others. They lifted the scaffold off the ground, my hands with it. The pain is excruciating. The crowd screams.

Two of the soldiers bend down, and take the opposite ends of the crossbeam . Two others are behind the stipes, pulling at the rope. From the time they tied the patibulum on my shoulders in the courtyard up to now, the soldiers have been keeping shouting insults at me. Now they seem to have just calmed down: perhaps my blood, my screams, my pain, have temporarily satisfied their thirst for blood.

One of the soldiers looks up: "Commander, we haven't buggered her. Should we turn her against the post and break her fucking ass?"

The commander is there, to my left. I look at him, and at the soldiers, behind the veil of pain, incredulous that they could speak about doing such hideous things to me like that, as a matter of fact.

He thinks about it for a few seconds. Then: "No, this beautiful little girl... she's already had enough cocks for now. We'll open her wide once she's on the cross, high up, so everyone can see."

He nods. A nod from him is enough to decide for the destiny of people.

"UAAAAAAAAAAHH AAAAAAAAAAHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

My cry is that of a slaughtered lamb.

This time they pulled hard on the ropes, on purpose, suddenly lifting the cross beam and my arms for more than a meter, to hurt me. I feel the edges of the square nails scraping the bones of my wrists as my arms start rotating as they bear some of my weight.

"LOOK, THE WHORE ENJOYS IT! LOOK HOW THE WHORE ENJOYS!!!" they shout from the crowd.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH AAAAAAAAAAHH AAAAAAAAAAHHHH"

I yell in pain as the soldiers jerks hard, and my feet leave the ground. They will not return to the ground with me alive.

I stay there, hanging by the nails, the crossbeam swaying slowly suspended from the ropes, the nails in my wrists that are an explosion of pain: "MMMMERRRRRRRCCCCCYYY AAAAHH AAAAAHHH MMERRRCCC ...."

The two soldiers resume pulling, slowly this time. I suffer, I scream, the sharp edges of the square nails which rub against the bones of my wrists are a torture beyond imagination: "THE WHORE IS GETTING WHAT SHE DESERVES! SCREAM, DAMN FUCKING WHORE!""

One of the two pulls more than the other, and the patibulum tilts, and I scream again.

Someone yells: "Slow down, you jerk! Here, yes, get higher!" as if it were ordinary carpentry work, and the hateful wood I'm nailed to levels out.

"Yeah, good ... up now!" and another scream comes out of my throat: "AAAAHHHH", as they give another tug, the two soldiers together this time.

"Yeah, that's fine, that's enough!" and they stop.

I've got high enough.

I don't see it, but someone behind me has put a ladder against the cross. I feel the blows, when they begin to nail the two posts together, and the vibrations that reverberate in my arms.

Then someone nails above my head, above my blond hair, the wooden plate that they had put around my neck while they were raping me. Everyone, looking at me as I die nailed to the cross, will be able to read what I am, for them: "Gabriella Sivilla , regina puttanarum ".
Click to expand...
Yipppeee! Feet nailing next, let's have a good descriptive narrative on that pleeeease. Grovel, grovel.
 
Next part. I'd really love that you enjoy! And comment, comment, comment, it's a great encouragment for me!

Kisses!
G.

_______________________________________________________________

GOLGOTHA

Part six
by Gabriella Sivilla


They don't waste time.

I feel one of them grabbing my left foot and bending my leg. The hand is rough, hard, as rough as the wood I feel under my foot. I have always taken care of my feet, and some red nail polish remains from the last time I put it on. I don't look down, and I couldn't look, but the image of my little foot in the big, dirty hands of this brute appears vivid in my mind.

Another soldier approaches me, with a hammer in his hand and one more of the big rusty nails.

I feel him placing the metal tip my foot. I don't put any fight, the rape and the torture have already exhausted me, and the pain in my wrists and arms is too much. But I can't help but start shivering. I feel my teeth chatter. It's not cold, or shock. My body knows how atrocious it is to have a nail driven into flesh and bone, and terror envelops me.

He doesn't wait.

It hits with full strength the head of the nail, and it goes halfway into my foot. Two small bones break, with a sinister: "CRACK!".

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" I yell, and it's like my lungs are shooting out of my throat. The whole leg is on fire, it's as if they are skinning it alive, as if they are burning it with burning flames, as if they are shredding it, all things together at the same time. Nerves send the pain up my back and explode in my brain.

The crowd screams with pleasure.

He keeps hitting. And hitting . "THUD! THUD! THUD!" He strikes again, the big nail entering more and more into my flesh. Spreading apart the little broken bones in my foot. Then, I distinctly feel the tip of the nail tearing the sole of my foot and coming out the other side. And the dull sound of the blows when the tip is driven into the wood. And I scream. Scream. I scream:

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!"

The centurion approaches. He got back on his horse. He speaks in a low, but hard, tone: " Mmmhhh yessss . Good girl. Good, blondie girl. This is how we want you! Scream out your agony... Let everyone see how much you're suffering... yeahhh"

I feel them take my right foot, bend my long beautiful leg, and place the sole of my foot against the post. This time I don't feel the tip being placed.

"THUD!"

The pain explodes in my foot, in my leg, in my back, in my head: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH nnnnnnOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAH ", as the nail drives in between two small bones, diverging them, impaling a nerve.

A splash of my crimson blood hits my executioner's face. He is momentarily surprised to be hit by this hot liquid. He licks it with his tongue, feeling his flavor. He grins. He resumes hammering.

I piss myself.

This time is not from fear. It's from the terrible, unbearable pain from having wrists and feet freshly nailed to the cross. A few drops, all I had left.

But I scream with all my strength: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" the crowd shouting something in my ears, the nail piercing my beautiful foot: "THUD!" and coming out from the other side, tearing my skin: "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH enough... SSSTTTT.. AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH... SSSTTTooottt .... AAAAAAAAHHHH".

He keeps going, hitting the nail head with all his strength. "THUD THUD THUD! ", the nail entering the wood.

"THUD! THUD! THUD! "

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH" while my screams, like the ones of a slaughtered lamb, delight my torturers. "BITCHAAAA, YOU DESERVE IT!!! BIIITTCCH FFUUUCCKKINNNGG WWWHHOOREEE, SSSLLLUUUTTT!!!"

"AAAAAHHH AAAAHHHHHH!!!".

He's finished.

I am crucified.
 
GabriellaSivilla said:
Next part. I'd really love that you enjoy! And comment, comment, comment, it's a great encouragment for me!

Kisses!
G.

_______________________________________________________________

GOLGOTHA

Part six
by Gabriella Sivilla


They don't waste time.

I feel one of them grabbing my left foot and bending my leg. The hand is rough, hard, as rough as the wood I feel under my foot. I have always taken care of my feet, and some red nail polish remains from the last time I put it on. I don't look down, and I couldn't look, but the image of my little foot in the big, dirty hands of this brute appears vivid in my mind.

Another soldier approaches me, with a hammer in his hand and one more of the big rusty nails.

I feel him placing the metal tip my foot. I don't put any fight, the rape and the torture have already exhausted me, and the pain in my wrists and arms is too much. But I can't help but start shivering. I feel my teeth chatter. It's not cold, or shock. My body knows how atrocious it is to have a nail driven into flesh and bone, and terror envelops me.

He doesn't wait.

It hits with full strength the head of the nail, and it goes halfway into my foot. Two small bones break, with a sinister: "CRACK!".

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" I yell, and it's like my lungs are shooting out of my throat. The whole leg is on fire, it's as if they are skinning it alive, as if they are burning it with burning flames, as if they are shredding it, all things together at the same time. Nerves send the pain up my back and explode in my brain.

The crowd screams with pleasure.

He keeps hitting. And hitting . "THUD! THUD! THUD!" He strikes again, the big nail entering more and more into my flesh. Spreading apart the little broken bones in my foot. Then, I distinctly feel the tip of the nail tearing the sole of my foot and coming out the other side. And the dull sound of the blows when the tip is driven into the wood. And I scream. Scream. I scream:

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!"

The centurion approaches. He got back on his horse. He speaks in a low, but hard, tone: " Mmmhhh yessss . Good girl. Good, blondie girl. This is how we want you! Scream out your agony... Let everyone see how much you're suffering... yeahhh"

I feel them take my right foot, bend my long beautiful leg, and place the sole of my foot against the post. This time I don't feel the tip being placed.

"THUD!"

The pain explodes in my foot, in my leg, in my back, in my head: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH nnnnnnOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAH ", as the nail drives in between two small bones, diverging them, impaling a nerve.

A splash of my crimson blood hits my executioner's face. He is momentarily surprised to be hit by this hot liquid. He licks it with his tongue, feeling his flavor. He grins. He resumes hammering.

I piss myself.

This time is not from fear. It's from the terrible, unbearable pain from having wrists and feet freshly nailed to the cross. A few drops, all I had left.

But I scream with all my strength: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" the crowd shouting something in my ears, the nail piercing my beautiful foot: "THUD!" and coming out from the other side, tearing my skin: "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH enough... SSSTTTT.. AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH... SSSTTTooottt .... AAAAAAAAHHHH".

He keeps going, hitting the nail head with all his strength. "THUD THUD THUD! ", the nail entering the wood.

"THUD! THUD! THUD! "

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH" while my screams, like the ones of a slaughtered lamb, delight my torturers. "BITCHAAAA, YOU DESERVE IT!!! BIIITTCCH FFUUUCCKKINNNGG WWWHHOOREEE, SSSLLLUUUTTT!!!"

"AAAAAHHH AAAAHHHHHH!!!".

He's finished.

I am crucified.
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:eek: :eek: :eek: :eek: :eek:
 
GabriellaSivilla said:
Next part. I'd really love that you enjoy! And comment, comment, comment, it's a great encouragment for me!

Kisses!
G.

_______________________________________________________________

GOLGOTHA

Part six
by Gabriella Sivilla


They don't waste time.

I feel one of them grabbing my left foot and bending my leg. The hand is rough, hard, as rough as the wood I feel under my foot. I have always taken care of my feet, and some red nail polish remains from the last time I put it on. I don't look down, and I couldn't look, but the image of my little foot in the big, dirty hands of this brute appears vivid in my mind.

Another soldier approaches me, with a hammer in his hand and one more of the big rusty nails.

I feel him placing the metal tip my foot. I don't put any fight, the rape and the torture have already exhausted me, and the pain in my wrists and arms is too much. But I can't help but start shivering. I feel my teeth chatter. It's not cold, or shock. My body knows how atrocious it is to have a nail driven into flesh and bone, and terror envelops me.

He doesn't wait.

It hits with full strength the head of the nail, and it goes halfway into my foot. Two small bones break, with a sinister: "CRACK!".

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" I yell, and it's like my lungs are shooting out of my throat. The whole leg is on fire, it's as if they are skinning it alive, as if they are burning it with burning flames, as if they are shredding it, all things together at the same time. Nerves send the pain up my back and explode in my brain.

The crowd screams with pleasure.

He keeps hitting. And hitting . "THUD! THUD! THUD!" He strikes again, the big nail entering more and more into my flesh. Spreading apart the little broken bones in my foot. Then, I distinctly feel the tip of the nail tearing the sole of my foot and coming out the other side. And the dull sound of the blows when the tip is driven into the wood. And I scream. Scream. I scream:

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!"

The centurion approaches. He got back on his horse. He speaks in a low, but hard, tone: " Mmmhhh yessss . Good girl. Good, blondie girl. This is how we want you! Scream out your agony... Let everyone see how much you're suffering... yeahhh"

I feel them take my right foot, bend my long beautiful leg, and place the sole of my foot against the post. This time I don't feel the tip being placed.

"THUD!"

The pain explodes in my foot, in my leg, in my back, in my head: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH nnnnnnOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAH ", as the nail drives in between two small bones, diverging them, impaling a nerve.

A splash of my crimson blood hits my executioner's face. He is momentarily surprised to be hit by this hot liquid. He licks it with his tongue, feeling his flavor. He grins. He resumes hammering.

I piss myself.

This time is not from fear. It's from the terrible, unbearable pain from having wrists and feet freshly nailed to the cross. A few drops, all I had left.

But I scream with all my strength: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" the crowd shouting something in my ears, the nail piercing my beautiful foot: "THUD!" and coming out from the other side, tearing my skin: "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH enough... SSSTTTT.. AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH... SSSTTTooottt .... AAAAAAAAHHHH".

He keeps going, hitting the nail head with all his strength. "THUD THUD THUD! ", the nail entering the wood.

"THUD! THUD! THUD! "

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH" while my screams, like the ones of a slaughtered lamb, delight my torturers. "BITCHAAAA, YOU DESERVE IT!!! BIIITTCCH FFUUUCCKKINNNGG WWWHHOOREEE, SSSLLLUUUTTT!!!"

"AAAAAHHH AAAAHHHHHH!!!".

He's finished.

I am crucified.
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Oh my. Most stories lose me after a bit. Not this one.
 
Great 1st person narrative, absolutely intense and riveting!

I am curious to see how you handle her time on the cross. You’ve been so patient thus far... Another 2-3 episodes? Exploring the mental anguish of being up there: the unfairness, regret, despair, fear of death, humiliation.... how she cycles through those emotions as the time passes.

Thanks for sharing this outstanding piece @GabriellaSivilla
 
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