Fantasy - Part 8
The Guard who read out my sentence went to the chest and took out a sort of metal glove made out of chainlink. It looked like something that belonged to knights of the middle ages. It was heavy and the palm was covered with small metal studs. He put it on and came towards me. With it, he took hold of my balls and slowly began to squeeze. I tried to pull away, but of course, I couldn't. The pain grew as he coutinued. I could feel the metal studs painfully pressing in. I began to breath quickly as the pain increased. Then he started to pull and twist as he countinued to tighten his grip. The pain was now unbearable. With all my streagth, I started to pull at the ropes to get away. I was trying not to scream but was, by now, moaning loudly. He continued. I was pulling so hard to get away that my feet were no longer touching the ground. The pain was so great that I didn't even notice that I was hanging from only my wrists. The crowd watched in silence as he continued squeezing and twisting. He smiled as I hung there moaning in agony. Every time I stopped he'd squeeze and twist harder so I would start again. This countinued unabatted. It felt as though my balls were being turned to mush. I had never felt such pain but this was just a taste of what was to come. My torture was now underway.
After about 20 minutes he finally realised his grip. He stood back for a few minutes to admire his work so far. I was covered in sweat and shaking from the ordeal. He went back to the trunk, threw the glove in and took out a short quirt (whip). It was only about 18 inches long and had a curved handle. It didn't look particularly menacing. In fact, it looked fancy, like something you'd see in a high end riding shop. He made a point of showing it to me and said "It bites worst than it looks". He then took position behind me and furiously laid into me. The blows rained down without letup. For about 15 minutes he whipped my naked body. The pain grew worst as time went on. Before long it hurt more than the gloved hand. It was unbareble. I began to scream as the blows fell. It was a wall of pain. My entire backside, my legs, buttocks, back and shoulders were being pummelled with the whip. It felt like I had been set on fire. He finally stopped when he tired and needed a break.
I just hung there, completely limp, held up by my bonds. I was exhausted and dripping with sweat in to hot sun. The crowd was becoming more relaxed and settling into their roles. People were starting to make fun of me again and comment on my ordeal. "I hope he doesn't die before we get him up on the cross." someone said." "He's still got a few hours left there before it's over." I heard. " Don't worry, he'll last. He's in good shape."
By now, it was quite hot, the mid-afternoon sun was beating down. The group decided to take a break from the sun and get something to drink. I was shown no such mercy. I was left to hang between the posts in the hot sun. I was now nothing more than a condemned prisoner who was going to die on the cross the next day. There was no need to show any sympathy. I understood this. The ordeal of crucifixion was starting to break me down. This was no longer a fantasy for me, it had become reality and I was beginning to truly accept my fate. I knew that the outcome was now certain. I was going to suffer as the worst criminals did in ancient Rome. Until now, I wasn't sure how real the whole scene was going to be. I thought maybe it was going to be just a very intense S&M session. But I could tell from the brutality of the tortures that I was being subjected to that this was not going to be the case. Fot me, the outcome was going to be authentic, I was going to have to faces the nails. After all, isn't that what I deserved?
After a few minutes, I managed to regain enough composer to realise what was going on around me. The crowd was relaxing and talking about what was going on. They were looking at me and commenting on my condition and reaction to the ordeal. From their conversations, I could tell it was far from over. As I looked around I saw the young woman. She was staring at me continuously. As our eyes met, a strange feeling came over me. It was a feeling of dread mixed with passion. I could tell that she wanted me to suffer. She wanted to watch as I suffered as much as possible. But there was even more, it was as if she needed me to suffer, she craved it. There was a hunger in her eyes. It was as if she needed a victim just for her. A victim who would go through unspeakable suffering for her. A victim willing hang from the cross and die upon it for her. That was it! She wanted me to go willingly and be crucified just for her. She wanted me to accept the nails for her.
As I gazed at her, transfixed. the crowd gathered 'round. My ordeal was about to continue anew. One of the guards came back with a small sort of charcoal grill. He laid it down several feet away and set about lighting the charcoal bricks. The guard who acted as chief torturer returned and took a pair of alligator clips out of the trunk. They were each about 2 inches long and the teeth were barbed. The spring were large and, I could tell by the difficulty he had opening the jaws, very strong. He took hold of my left nipple, pinched it and placed the clip on it. The pain was immediate and excruciating as soon as he released it. It radiated throughout my chest. He quickly clamped the other one on my right nipple. The pain doubled. It was different from before because, now the pain was unremmitting. It was a countinuing pain that didn't let up as before. It just grew worst as time went on and the teeth bit deeper and deeper into me. He stood back and watched as I moaned loudly. He just let me hang there and let the clips do their work. After, I don't know how long, he came over and remover one of them. It was like a bolt of lightning. The pain was even greater then when he put it on. He waited for the pain to subside a bit and then, put it back on, causing even more pain. He repeated this with the other one and then continued the process for at least an hour. Each time the level if pain increased. By now I was screaming in agony and begging for him to stop. But to no avail. The pain had grown to the point where it was beyond unbearable. I was now truly being tortured. All my mind could think of was the pain. It was real and present. He finally removed the clips for the last time.
As the pain subsided, I noticed that some irons were being heated on the grill. As the crowd looked on, the older man who acted as Judge at my trial took hold of the irons and approched me. He slowly showed me the irons and spoke, " As a sign of your guilt and as a mark of your ordeal you shall bear the mark of the cross for the rest of your life." He then took the irons began to slowly burn a cross into my chest starting from my sternum and going to just above the base of my erect member. I was screaming and convulcing in pain as he continued. I could smell my flesh burning as the irons made their mark. When he was done, he stepped back to admire his handywork. After several moments, he turned to the crowd and asked, "what shall we do with him?" They began to cheer and chant, "Curcify him, Crucify him,Crucify him".
By now the sun was setting. They began to untie me from the posts. First my ankles and then my wrists. I collapsed on the ground exhausted and unable to move. After several minutes someone gave me a bottle of water to drink. I managed to drink it and some of my strength returned. One of the guards threw me my underware and said " Put them back on." With difficulty, I managed. They placed a noose around my neck, took hold of my arms and pulled me to my feet. With my arms limp at my sides they led me towards one of the buildings on the property that was to serve as my cell for the night.
The inside of the building was empty. Except in the center was a wooden horse. It was about 4 feet tall. There were four legs that held a wooden board about 8 inches wide by 1 inch thick at the base and tapered to a point at the top. The board was standing edgewise and was about 6 feet long. The legs were attached at an angle at the ends and were fastened to the floor. Above it hung a set of iron shackles that were suspended from the ceiling. The wrist cuffs were about 12 inches above the top of the horse. There were also a set of ankle irons attached to the floor. I was told to get on it. They pushed me towards it and forced me on it. I had one leg straddling each side of the board and my feet dangled a few inches above the floor. My entire weight was on my crotch. I used my arms to steady myself and take some of the weight off. The guards bent over and clamped my ankles in irons. This prevented me from lifting my legs to get off. They then stood up, took hold of my wrists, pulled them behind my back and placed the cuffs on them. This way, all my weight was on my crotch that was supported by the sharp edge of the board. I was going to ride the wooden pony for the night. My torture would continue until morning and the time of my crucifixion. once the guarde made sure that my shackles were secure they left the cabin and locked the door. This is how I was to spent my last night, almost naked, mounted on the sharp edge of a wooden horse, left to suffer in the dark and contemplate my fate.
I was alone for the first time since my capture. The pain increased as time went on. After several hours, I was able to think again, even though I was in constant agony. I began to reflect on what was going to happen to me in the morning. I knew that I was going to be crucified. I wondered if they were actually going to nail me to the cross or use ropes. When I agreed to become the victim I had assumed that ropes would be used. But now it was apparent that the crowd wanted the real thing. The torture had been real and I could tell that the young woman wanted me nailed to the cross. I imagined the pain when the nails would be driven thru my wrists and ankles. I had read accounts of how victims screamed out and struggled with all their strength when the nails were being driven in and how they dances for hours until all their energy was gone trying to releve the pain. I could see myself attached to the patibullum, being raised and fixed in place. I knew the pain was going to be unimaginable when my feet left the ground and I hung from only the nails driven thru my wrists. I knew it would be several minutes until the patibullum is fixed to the stipes. I thought of myself stuggling on the cross for hours as the crowd looked on. I could picture myself hanging there for her.
After several hours,I was in a semi-conscious state. I couldn't sleep of course, but I was not completely couscious either. It was a sort of in between state. I was jared to my senses by the sound of the door opening. It was still completely dark outside. I couldn't see who was in the room, but I sensed it was her. She closed the door. From the light now in the room, I could tell that she had a lantern of some kind. It gave off just enough light that I could see. For several minutes she said nothing, she just watched me. Finally, I sensed that she was coming near. I felt her hand on my shoulder. "Adam" she said, " I knew you were the one that was going to go through with it. I could tell, you craved it. When we spoke in the chat room I knew you were going to end up on the cross. The way you talked about what it was going to be like to be up there, in front of everybody, suffering for your crimes. I knew you'd find a way. I wish I could be up there with you, but some of us... Promises me that you'll go all the way. I want to watch you go all tha way. When they ask you if you want the nails, say yes. Take the nails for me, please. I need you to take them." I knew who she was. We had chatted many, many times about what it would be like to be crucified and what the victim would feel on the way to the cross. She told me she craved it as much as I did. She wanted to fell it, like me. She had to know what it was like. And now she was asking me to go all the way so she could. I muttered that I would. She gentilaly ran her hand down my trembling leg and thanked me. Slowly, she turned away and left the room. I was alone again. Slowly, I could see the light of the sunrise growing stronger. Daybreak was coming. The day of my crucifixion had arrived. I could here people moving about outside the cabin. The final preparations were being made. Finally, I heard someone unlocking the door.
As the light from outside entered the room, three guards entered. Without sayin a word, they started undoing my shackles. First my ankles and than, my wrists were released. The feeling had returned to my arms during the night but my legs were very unsteady and weak from my night on the horse. My wrists were tied in front of me with a long piece of rope and I was led out. The sun was already hot and I knew it couldn't be any later than 8 a.m. I thought about what it was going to be like when I was up on the cross in a few hours. But I knew the sun was not going to be the worst of my problems. The guards led me towards an outside shower. I was given some soap and a razor and told to get in and clean myself up. They said that the Judge wanted me presentable for my execution. I did as I was told. I removed my underware and socks, got in and turned on the water. I was so thirsty that I started drinking from the shower head. I washed and shaved as directed. After about 10 or 15 minutes they told me to get out. I turned off the water and was given a towel. After I dried myself, I was told to put the few articles of clothing I had back on. They then retied my wrists and started leading me towards the courtyard.
When we arrived, there was a crowd of people gathered. there were at least twice as many as the day before. They were standing surrounding the whipping post. There was also a table set up at which sat the Judge and two others. I was led in front of them. As I stood there, I saw an array of whips and floggers laid out on the table. Beside it, on the ground lay a patibullum and several lengths of rope. There was also a bucket containing a couple of mallets and a bunch of large squared nails of varying lengths. I could feel the tension in those gathered. This was it.The main event was about to begin any second. My heart raced and my breath quickened. The three seated at the table whispered among themselves for a few minutes. The anticipation was unbearable, I felt like I could pass out. Suddenly the Judge began to speak,"Adam Smith, You are brought before us this day, the appointed day of your execution for the sentence to be carried out in accordance with the law. The method chosen for your execution is the method of public crucifixion. It is hereby ordered that you are to receive 78 lashes of the whip. You are then to carry the instrument upon which you will die on your shoulders from here to the place of your crucifixion. Once there, you are to be fastened to it and then raised and fastened to a cross. You are to be relieved of any articles of clothing that you may still possess at that time. You are to remain on the cross until you are dead. Do you understand?" "Yes" I answered. He continued, "Very well, Captain of the Guards, are you ready? "Yes, Your Honour" he replied. "Carry out the sentence" ordered the Judge. And with that it began. My crucifixion was underway
The Guards took hold of the rope and pulled me towards the whipping post. I was about to receive my scourging. When we got to the post, they made me stand facing it and took the rope with which my hands were tied and passed it through one of the iron rings at the top. Two of the guards started pulling on it, forcing my arms up. They pulled until my arms were nearly to the top of the post and my feet barely touched the ground. They then tied the rope in place. By tying me in this manner it would be possible, when the time came to turn me around to face my executioner's whip without releasing my wrists and allowing me to fall to the ground. They then bent down, took hold of my ankles and postioned them at the sides of the post and tied them to the iron rings at the base. The result was that I was stretched out almost the complete length of the post and bound to it in such a manner that I was forced to lean back and place my weight on the rope around my wrists. My erect member was also forced to rub against the post by my awkward position.
When I was secure one of the executioners went to the table and took hold of one of the whips. It was a large single tailed bullwhip measuring about 10 feet long. He took up position behind me and cracked the whip a few times for the crowd. When he was ready he began. The whip hurled through the air making a hissing sound and landed in the small of my back with a crack. The force of the impact knocked the breath out of me. Immediatly, I felt the stinging sensation. It burned like the hot irons on my abdomen. Before I could regain my breath, the second blow landed on my shoulders again knocking the wind out of me. Slowly and methodically, he continued, postioning each lash in a specific location. The pain grew with each lash. The difference with the hot irons was that here, in addition to the fire of the lash that was as intense as the irons, there was also the force of the impact of the whip that almost knocked out my wind with every blow.I managed to maintain control for the first five or six strikes of the whip, but after that I started to quickly lose my composer. The pain was far worst than the previous day. By the tenth blow I was out of control. I was begging for them to stop and pleading for mercy. He had me where he wanted me. But of course, it was all for nothing. My fate had been sealed. I was going to have to endure the full 78 lashes without any possibility of mercy.
I was sentenced to die by crucifixion and this was integral part of the process. It was designed to make the victim suffer and prepare him for the agony of the cross. It was also designed to break his will to resist and embrace his fate. In ancient times, the scene of the scourging of the victim was unbearable to watch. The victim cried out for mercy and begged for the executioner to stop. They were torn to shreds by the whip in front of the crowd and robbed of all dignity. This was now happening to me. The crowd watch in awe as the executioner went about his work. He was absolutly merciless. Each kiss of the whip was leaving a long red mark. I think he prefered the bullwhip because of the criss-cross pattern it left behind because he used it for most of the flogging. Each time the whip struck, my body lurched forward against the post and my member slammed hard into the wood. After many many lashes, I had long since lost count, he stopped. I was covered in sweat and almost unconscious from the beating. My entire backside was covered in long bright red lines, many of the bleeding.
Two of the guards approched me, bent over and untied my ankles. I was then turned around to face the whip. My ankles were then retied so I couldn't turn. The executioner quickly took up position in front of me, making sure I could see him and resumed the flogging. The first blow landed across my chest. This was even more painful than the back because there is no fat to cushion the blows. They fall directly on muscule and bone. He stuck again across my abdomen and regained the rythem he had before the pause. The blows fell on the entire front of my body from below my shoulders to my thighs. The pain was excurciating. I tried with all my streagth to pull away from the whip, but of course, this was impossible. He specifically positioned several blows on my member and balls. I screamed for mercy. It felt like they had been cut off. But he continued at his task. I was being prepared for the cross. He finally stopped. I just hung there, almost unconscious from the beating. After what must have been several minutes, I managed to look up. As I look around, I saw the young woman standing directly in front of me and starring transfixed at my sweating, beaten body. I saw in her eyes that she was getting what she needed. The crowd was excited and getting anxious for the next step.
The Judge got up from the table and motioned the executioner over. They spoke in hushed tones for a moment. The executioner then places his bullwhip on the table and slowly picked up a replica of a roman scourge. The crowd cheered as he slammed it into the table. He pulled it up, splinters flying, and came towards me. When he got near, he addressed me in a low voice,"You've received 70 lashes, There's 8 to go. If you're prepared to got all the way with this, I'm gonna finish it off with this". He showed me the scourge. It had 5 or 6 long breaded tails made out if leather. Into the breads were woven dozens of sharpe metal spurrs. I knew it would hurt like hell and tear me to pieces with every blow. I looked around and saw the woman again, her eyes told me I had to go through with it, just like I'd said. There was no way out for me. I was getting exactly what I deserved. My gaze turned to the Executioners and I nodded "Yes". I was prepared to suffer the passion of the cross in all it's horrors for my crimes. Two guards came forward and untied my ankles and turned me around. They didn't bother to retie them. I just hung there from my wrists. They wanted to see me dance. The first blow of the scourge hit across my shoulders. It felt like lightning. The pain made all my senses come rushing back. I cried out. He struck again. I could feel my back being torn to shreds by the scourge. It was far worst than the bullwhip. I was in a world of only pain, nothing else. I couldn't see, I couldn't think, I couldn't move. there was nothing but pain. The blows continued. I was actually being scourged exactly like in ancient Rome. It was over in less than a minute, but it felt like hours. The pain continued to radiate even after he finished. I was in total agony, hanging from my wrists, unable to even move.
My scourging was over...