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The viper's kiss
==========

Suddenly the soldier at @Kathy 's front comes forward and, with full force, brings the whip to bear on her vulnerable body.
The forked whip, known as the viper by the soldiers, hits her navel, drawing first blood.
The naked woman cries out in pain and shock as she feels the pain radiating from her navel into the depths of her stomach.
The men applaud and cheer the floggers on....
 

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The viper's kiss
==========

Suddenly the soldier at @Kathy 's front comes forward and, with full force, brings the whip to bear on her vulnerable body.
The forked whip, known as the viper by the soldiers, hits her navel, drawing first blood.
The naked woman cries out in pain and shock as she feels the pain radiating from her navel into the depths of her stomach.
The men applaud and cheer the floggers on....
That lash was so painful , I brace for the next one
 
The crowning revisited
===============

After her violation by Scorpianus, the men take their turns with @malins .
Her crucifixion fantasy fades away as she is pummeled by the rough soldiers. One. two, three - she loses count after a while. At least, they're only taking her one at a time, she thinks. As if that matters.

When they are done, they drag her over to the whipping column. She sits there with her flogged back against the stone, naked, legs wide splayed open and defenseless, her head dropping to her chest.
Someone grabs a handful of hair and roughly lifts her head up.
She is breathing heavily now. Exhausted, her head lolls backwards. She is vaguely aware of the painful cries of @Kathy , who is being mercilessly whipped just a few feet away from her.
Someone cries out "Get the wood out here! We need to get her up and walking to her throne!"
"Don't forget the crown!", someone else yells
"Can't have the traitor die without it on her head!"
"Look at her wet cunt! The traitor is insatiable!"

<would love your comments on this one!!>malin_crowned2_scorpio.jpg
 
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After he's finished with it,
the commander throws the condemned meat to his goons.
That is what it is, no longer a person, ... no longer me.
But I still get to feel all the pain done to it.
There's no escape.

Dumped against the cold column, where the torture began ... how long ago? seems like an eternity ...

They remember what it's all about.
Crucify the traitor.
They remember the crown, that fell to the ground so long ago ... that shove, crashing into the commander.

Let it begin.
Bring the wood.
There's no going back, there is no more living, it's unthinkable.
 
Oh, Malins, Malins, I can't believe what they've done to you!
Romans are cruel and ruthless!
Look at yourself now lying on the ground waiting for the horrible torture of the crucifixion! Humiliated, raped, whipped, beaten, and covered in Roman semen!

Are even more tortures and humiliations awaiting you, Malins, or are they going to force you with the blow of the whip, to walk to your cross?

Oh, Malins, Malins! What have you done to deserve this?
 
Aiming for the nipple
=============+=

It is @phlebas , the soldier on her front, that flogs @Kathy the most. He expertly whips her stomach, pubis, and thighs until, with a well-aimed blow he lands one on her left breast. A raw blister appears across her boob, splitting the nipple. The naked woman yells as sharp pain radiates inwards - it is as if a knife has been driven through the center of her breast. She tugs at her tied wrists as the pain pulsates like a hot iron. Her body shivers as a small trickle of blood emerges from her tit.

"Right on target, Phlebas!", the soldiers exclaim, laughing.
"You know where we want it next, pal!", they encourage him...kathy4_scorpio.jpg
 
The burden
========
@malins is dragged painfully to her feet. They tie her arms with hemp rope to a small, but heavy, piece of wood to her lacerated back. The woman gasps as the rough wood chafes against her blistered skin.
She is paraded, naked and helpless, in front of the entire cohort. Her private parts and breasts are bruised and battered from the repeated violations she has suffered.

"Hail to the Queen!" they cry out as they prod her with their spears, pushing her out of the barracks, onto the road that leads to the hill of execution.
In front of her, a soldier grimly carries her titulus -MALIN TRADITORA
Behind her another stands ready with the scourge if she but falters in her pace for a brief moment...
 

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Pulled up and put on my feet again.
The beam I will hang from weighs on my shoulders.
So my last walk begins.

This at least has a purpose, a goal. My cross,... the upright post, that stands amid the suffering-grounds, waiting for me to come, to be thrown to the ground and nailed, to be raised upon it then,... waiting to carry me to my destiny... waiting there, for me to die on it.

As soon as they dragged me in front of that judge I understood it would be this, the cross, and I want to get it over with. What good is resisting or fighting.

I'll take care best as I can to keep a steady pace and not trip or stumble though I'm sure some bastard is going to kick my legs from under me, just to see me fall flat on my face with my hurt-beam hitting me hard... and then he'll laugh at me getting whipped for what he did. That's how it goes when you're condemned.

Every step of the way hurts but at least the reward for each is,... to be one step closer to the end of this...
 
The walk of shame
============
@malins the traitor is roughly pushed out of the barracks, burdened with the wood she will be nailed to.
Surrounded by a small company of soldiers, and in intense pain and agony, the woman starts her walk up to the hill of crosses, a mile outside the city gates.
The crowd jostles to see the condemned.
Her naked body glistens with sweat. Fresh streaks of blood from her crowned head and where the patibulum chafes against her scourged shoulders. Her ample breasts wobble as she tries to maintain her balance with the heavy wood on her shoulders
Many of the men feel their crotch stiffen as they hear @malins ' cries as she is whipped without mercy to make her go faster. A few women, instead of being shocked at her appearance, feel a warmth in their nether regions. The humiliation, the suffering, the soldiers' laughs - it gets to them in a strange way. They have seen men go through this last rite many times, but far fewer women. Pain is so close to pleasure.

malin_walk2_scorpio.jpg
 
The walk of shame
============
@malins the traitor is roughly pushed out of the barracks, burdened with the wood she will be nailed to.
Surrounded by a small company of soldiers, and in intense pain and agony, the woman starts her walk up to the hill of crosses, a mile outside the city gates.
The crowd jostles to see the condemned.
Her naked body glistens with sweat. Fresh streaks of blood from her crowned head and where the patibulum chafes against her scourged shoulders. Her ample breasts wobble as she tries to maintain her balance with the heavy wood on her shoulders
Many of the men feel their crotch stiffen as they hear @malins ' cries as she is whipped without mercy to make her go faster. A few women, instead of being shocked at her appearance, feel a warmth in their nether regions. The humiliation, the suffering, the soldiers' laughs - it gets to them in a strange way. They have seen men go through this last rite many times, but far fewer women. Pain is so close to pleasure.

View attachment 914709
Ye gods, Jimsac, but you know how to use a pencil! :clapping::very_hot::very_hot::clapping:
 
Her naked body glistens with sweat. Fresh streaks of blood from her crowned head and where the patibulum chafes against her scourged shoulders ...
malin_walk2_scorpio.jpg
Just keep planting one foot in front of the other.
I mustn't try to go too quick, even if my slow and steady pace brings the lash down on my back.
That's what they want ... if I go too fast I'll stumble and things will get much worse.

Blood running down my face,
from the thorny crown pushed down hard, the second time
...getting in my eyes ...blood and sweat dripping, marking my trail,
from my shoulders, from my lacerated back,
spiking me with pain at every stretch of the tautened skin and the splitting welts,

Look down, see where I'm stepping, my legs mustn't fail me, mustn't fall...

No point in trying to look at anyone in the crowd, trying to make eye contact ...
... for them, I'm already outside of the circle of living beings.

Defiled, stripped, humiliated, I'm no longer human to them ... I belong to the cross...
 
Just keep planting one foot in front of the other.
I mustn't try to go too quick, even if my slow and steady pace brings the lash down on my back.
That's what they want ... if I go too fast I'll stumble and things will get much worse.

Blood running down my face,
from the thorny crown pushed down hard, the second time
...getting in my eyes ...blood and sweat dripping, marking my trail,
from my shoulders, from my lacerated back,
spiking me with pain at every stretch of the tautened skin and the splitting welts,

Look down, see where I'm stepping, my legs mustn't fail me, mustn't fall...

No point in trying to look at anyone in the crowd, trying to make eye contact ...
... for them, I'm already outside of the circle of living beings.

Defiled, stripped, humiliated, I'm no longer human to them ... I belong to the cross...
Beautiful prose. Especially the last paragraph...
 
The necklace of nails
==============

To further humiliate @malins , during the procession to the Hill of Crosses, she is roughly stopped in her tracks and ordered to lower her head.
After she does so, a chain is placed around her neck. Wedged in between the links are a number of long rusty nails, which scrape against her bare chest.
One of soldiers yanks her by the chain, shoving the nails in her face and exclaiming "Guess what these are for, you slut!"
Laughing he lets go of her, and the whip is applied again to her naked buttocks to get her moving...

<from an original idea by @malins >
 

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The place is near now ... the time is soon.
I don't know how I've made it all this way...
but the walls of the capital are already far away and I'm in the wide open land.

Step by step I approach my fate.
My hair has fallen down covering half my face,
my hands are tied to the hurt-beam and I can't brush it out of the way,
and shaking it away doesn't work, the thorn-crown holds the strands in place ... so, one-eyed, I stumble on

They stop me.
Order me to bow my head ... I close my eyes ...
cold metal draped against the nape of my neck ... falls over my chest ...
sharp points scraping against my breasts and settling between them ...
...the death-nails.

I'll carry them with me, the short distance to the dying-place.
And then, they'll carry me, to whichever place comes after all the pain ...
 
The place is near now ... the time is soon.
I don't know how I've made it all this way...
but the walls of the capital are already far away and I'm in the wide open land.

Step by step I approach my fate.
My hair has fallen down covering half my face,
my hands are tied to the hurt-beam and I can't brush it out of the way,
and shaking it away doesn't work, the thorn-crown holds the strands in place ... so, one-eyed, I stumble on

They stop me.
Order me to bow my head ... I close my eyes ...
cold metal draped against the nape of my neck ... falls over my chest ...
sharp points scraping against my breasts and settling between them ...
...the death-nails.

I'll carry them with me, the short distance to the dying-place.
And then, they'll carry me, to whichever place comes after all the pain ...
You are very near now. You halt as the shadow of one of the vertical posts temporarily blocks the sun, which as been in your face during your agonizing climb of the hill.
The soldiers whip your naked body mercilessly and drag you by the necklace of nails.
"Come on, your throne awaits, you slut!", they shout at you.
You shuffle forward, taking your last few steps on this Earth.
 
The nailing
========

They arrive at the site of execution. Things happen in a blur.
The necklace of nails is roughly pulled from her and then she is pushed down to the dusty ground, in front of the vertical stipes.
As the crossbeam hits the ground, the force of the impact forces the crown of thorns deeper into her head. The rough gravel grates against her scourged back.
@malins gasps in pain.
Her chest heaves madly up and down, both from the exertion of the walk as well as from the expectation of the horrid torture that is to follow. The soldiers remove some of the rope that had been used to hold the patibulum securely to her back. There is no need for this now. Having more flexion will aid in the dance of the cross. They revel in viewing her exposed crotch. Her exhaustion is such that there is no attempt to cover her pubis. It doesn't matter anymore.
The woman sees one soldier approach. He is a burly fellow, holding a huge mallet in one arm and a long, sharp nail in the other.
In the background, Scorpianus watches the proceedings with glee. No holds barred when it comes to @malins ' final humiliation.
 

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They arrive at the site of execution. Things happen in a blur.
...
The woman sees one soldier approach. He is a burly fellow, holding a huge mallet in one arm and a long, sharp nail in the other.

I'm there, and it begins!
All very quickly and roughly, painfully, throwing me down,
driving thorns in deeper, rubbing sand and soil and gravel into welts and wounds.

... but then time slows down, comes to a crawl, and almost stands still.

Me spread out on the ground,
only loosely bound,
but I don't struggle or squirm, there's no urge anymore, to try and get away.
I'm open and ready.

I keep my wrists where I know they need to be.
I look up and see him coming for me.

Hammer. Nail. At the ready. Strong muscled arms, and a face set in stone.
It's time.

I look up to him ...
I'm here, offered up for my execution.
Crucify me.
 
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