Cella
Spectator
As is said: "No good deed goes unpunished."
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Some Sketches
- Thread starter Andyman
- Start date
Andyman
Senator
Traitor (1 of 2)
This summer morning only a small group of citizens of Antium watched the execution of a man guilty with an embarrassing crime. He was a noble man and the investigation proved that he was a traitor, who cooperated with the Carthaginian spies together with his companion, who was far more noble and rich Roman aristocrat. The situation was tense and complicated - Hannibal ante portas! - and the trust to the ruling families would not be contested so the authorities decided that it would be very unwise to reveal the role played by the latter so he was invited to the procurator's palace and poisoned. The whole cruelty of a punishment focused on his comrade, who was crucified as a common slave, however his crucifixion was not announced nor his guilt publicized.
The criminal was deprived of his noble rights and all the possessions, floged, closed in the prison for two days with nothing to eat save some water to drink, then marched to the execution hill, disgraced with stripping him naked...
...and then he was hammered to the patibulum...
...and hung on the cross.
But it was not enough for his tormentors...
This summer morning only a small group of citizens of Antium watched the execution of a man guilty with an embarrassing crime. He was a noble man and the investigation proved that he was a traitor, who cooperated with the Carthaginian spies together with his companion, who was far more noble and rich Roman aristocrat. The situation was tense and complicated - Hannibal ante portas! - and the trust to the ruling families would not be contested so the authorities decided that it would be very unwise to reveal the role played by the latter so he was invited to the procurator's palace and poisoned. The whole cruelty of a punishment focused on his comrade, who was crucified as a common slave, however his crucifixion was not announced nor his guilt publicized.
The criminal was deprived of his noble rights and all the possessions, floged, closed in the prison for two days with nothing to eat save some water to drink, then marched to the execution hill, disgraced with stripping him naked...
...and then he was hammered to the patibulum...
...and hung on the cross.
But it was not enough for his tormentors...
Andyman
Senator
Traitor (2 of 2)
As usual, to make his death more cruel and to make his heart sunk, he was forced to meet her wife. She was forced to march together with him to the execution hill and then asked if she wanted to divorce the wretched criminal.
The goal was of course to humiliate the traitor and to inflict more mental pain to him, however the woman, unaware to their true motifs, told them, "I prefer to be a widow than a divorcee" and she refused. But she didn't expect that she sealed her fate. If she still was "his possession" and his unbreakable companion - Ubi te, Gaius, ibi ego, Gaia! - so she must bear the same fate as her husband. So, they humiliate the traitor killing his wife together with him and none the less cruel as he was treated himself, despite her innocence. So the executioners started with stripping the terrified woman nude in public...
...nailing her wrists to the beam almost at the very feet of his cross...
Next they showed the traitor that he no longer possessed even his woman by raping her in his presence...
...and then they hung her side by side with the criminal, as a common slave woman.
Moreover, they impaled her anus with short thick peg to give her additional support...
...and left her to die along with her husband...
...however due to the cornu partially supporting her heavy hips she was dying far slower than her man...
...and the next day she was still alive and suffering while her husband was long dead.
This afternoon she witnessed the vultures having her husband corpse consumed... And finally the next day they begun to devour her body as well, while she was perhaps still alive, bleeding and moaning when the vultures begun to rip her arms and breasts with their sharp beaks.
As usual, to make his death more cruel and to make his heart sunk, he was forced to meet her wife. She was forced to march together with him to the execution hill and then asked if she wanted to divorce the wretched criminal.
The goal was of course to humiliate the traitor and to inflict more mental pain to him, however the woman, unaware to their true motifs, told them, "I prefer to be a widow than a divorcee" and she refused. But she didn't expect that she sealed her fate. If she still was "his possession" and his unbreakable companion - Ubi te, Gaius, ibi ego, Gaia! - so she must bear the same fate as her husband. So, they humiliate the traitor killing his wife together with him and none the less cruel as he was treated himself, despite her innocence. So the executioners started with stripping the terrified woman nude in public...
...nailing her wrists to the beam almost at the very feet of his cross...
Next they showed the traitor that he no longer possessed even his woman by raping her in his presence...
...and then they hung her side by side with the criminal, as a common slave woman.
Moreover, they impaled her anus with short thick peg to give her additional support...
...and left her to die along with her husband...
...however due to the cornu partially supporting her heavy hips she was dying far slower than her man...
...and the next day she was still alive and suffering while her husband was long dead.
This afternoon she witnessed the vultures having her husband corpse consumed... And finally the next day they begun to devour her body as well, while she was perhaps still alive, bleeding and moaning when the vultures begun to rip her arms and breasts with their sharp beaks.
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bigpenis
Magistrate
The https://www.cruxforums.com/xf/attachments/plsiecan01_5250_i_pietro_1638_002-jpg.1045698/ links do not load . any ideas anyone!!!
Hugin&Munin
Presenter Of Images
During the last update, many pictures have been lost since last Friday. Please try to post them again.
ruoliuming
Magistrate
Yes, Traitor (1 of 2) and Traitor (2 of 2) cannot be displayed.
pascual mejias
Condemned
last pictures cannot be displayed. Could you post them again
Andyman
Senator
Impossible. I never collect my own work in hardcopies nor on other storage devices. The traitor series was no exception. Sorry.
Maybe I will be able to draw them once again in full scale utilizing thumbnails which survived.
For consolation, for the moment I will post another story. It's a sad story, as usual, however to be precise it is extremely sad, horrific and deadly painful only for one person but very lucky for two other girls and very interesting, exciting and amusing for hundreds of spectators, so we will sacrifice this one eagerly, especially since it was her own idea... But let's not get ahead of facts...
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Andyman
Senator
Day 1 : prelude
This day on the Quercetum Magnum latifundium everything went wrong. Small fire devoured stack of hay, the horse broke his leg, one of the slaves run away and two tracking dogs let off the leash to find him never returned home.
And after few minor unlucky incidents, finally a bolt stroke from the blue: the pater familiae died during his breakfast, probably from chocking, nothing supernatural, but this ruined the plans of his three daughters and the fate of their multiple servants. I didn't mention his wife, because he was a widower, so at least her (after)life wasn't ruined.
Juliet (26), Margaret (22) and Rose (19) sat together in their late father's room sad and silent but after some twenty minutes or so they started a conversation. And the conversation soon evolved into the discussion and next into the full-scale quarrel. The sisters were very well aware that the two houses (each with the farm buildings complex) owned by the late as well as two befriended families (each granted by the gods with a son, a handsome young man, an equitus in Legio Valeria Victrix, and really interested with the marriage) is all their father left. But two cannot be divided by three.
So, the quarrel soon became the squabble and the squabble the fight, but suddenly - out of the blue - Margaret laughed and clapped her hands, and she put the broom aside and shouted: "I am sick of you two! Let's solve the matter quick, once and for all!"
"As for me, I agree", cried Juliet and put the stool down.
"Let it be", nodded Rose, putting the poker in its shelf at the fireplace. "What do you think of?"
"Let's draw lots. The looser will be legally accused by the remaining two of some theft or something, and she will be publicly disgraced and driven out of the village or even forced to leave the country as an exile, so the father's property and other... benefits could be easily divided between the remaining two of us. The exiled sister will be given some money and a horse and she will get of course her clothes and her jewellery but after she departed, she will no more claim property rights, okay?"
Rose and Juliet applauded the Margaret's speech and the latter arranged quickly the lots: three stalks of straw: one long blade and two an inch shorter, and burried them in the small pile of sand, leaving only the (equally long) ends protruding and visible. No one (save her) could guess which one is an unlucky one, so her sisters must draw their lots first and she must be waiting for the result.
So Rose and Juliet drew their straws and Margaret drawn the remaining blade of straw. And when she compared it to her sisters' lots, she fainted. She lost.
But the worst was still ahead of her.
"Thank you very much, my dear maidens, for your testimony. I am pretty sure that your sister is guilty not only with the theft of your late father's money but she is responsible for his death too!", said the procurator to Rose and Juliet.
"But it is impossible! We were present at the moment of his death and we can assure you he simply choked...", Juliet tried to clarify but the official only waved his palms and continued:
"And I am pretty sure. Half a year ago in my own family there was nearly the same incident, and my aunt was proved to be guilty and burned at the stake... But I think it was too quick and merciful death for her and far too decent, although she must be stripped down to be burned. Your sister will be rewarded with more adequate punishment for her deeds!"
Juliet and Rose looked at each other and gulped noisily, horrified with the procurator's idea, but they could do nothing.
"Well, at least it was her own idea", muttered Rose looking at her sister's pale face.
This day on the Quercetum Magnum latifundium everything went wrong. Small fire devoured stack of hay, the horse broke his leg, one of the slaves run away and two tracking dogs let off the leash to find him never returned home.
And after few minor unlucky incidents, finally a bolt stroke from the blue: the pater familiae died during his breakfast, probably from chocking, nothing supernatural, but this ruined the plans of his three daughters and the fate of their multiple servants. I didn't mention his wife, because he was a widower, so at least her (after)life wasn't ruined.
Juliet (26), Margaret (22) and Rose (19) sat together in their late father's room sad and silent but after some twenty minutes or so they started a conversation. And the conversation soon evolved into the discussion and next into the full-scale quarrel. The sisters were very well aware that the two houses (each with the farm buildings complex) owned by the late as well as two befriended families (each granted by the gods with a son, a handsome young man, an equitus in Legio Valeria Victrix, and really interested with the marriage) is all their father left. But two cannot be divided by three.
So, the quarrel soon became the squabble and the squabble the fight, but suddenly - out of the blue - Margaret laughed and clapped her hands, and she put the broom aside and shouted: "I am sick of you two! Let's solve the matter quick, once and for all!"
"As for me, I agree", cried Juliet and put the stool down.
"Let it be", nodded Rose, putting the poker in its shelf at the fireplace. "What do you think of?"
"Let's draw lots. The looser will be legally accused by the remaining two of some theft or something, and she will be publicly disgraced and driven out of the village or even forced to leave the country as an exile, so the father's property and other... benefits could be easily divided between the remaining two of us. The exiled sister will be given some money and a horse and she will get of course her clothes and her jewellery but after she departed, she will no more claim property rights, okay?"
Rose and Juliet applauded the Margaret's speech and the latter arranged quickly the lots: three stalks of straw: one long blade and two an inch shorter, and burried them in the small pile of sand, leaving only the (equally long) ends protruding and visible. No one (save her) could guess which one is an unlucky one, so her sisters must draw their lots first and she must be waiting for the result.
So Rose and Juliet drew their straws and Margaret drawn the remaining blade of straw. And when she compared it to her sisters' lots, she fainted. She lost.
But the worst was still ahead of her.
"Thank you very much, my dear maidens, for your testimony. I am pretty sure that your sister is guilty not only with the theft of your late father's money but she is responsible for his death too!", said the procurator to Rose and Juliet.
"But it is impossible! We were present at the moment of his death and we can assure you he simply choked...", Juliet tried to clarify but the official only waved his palms and continued:
"And I am pretty sure. Half a year ago in my own family there was nearly the same incident, and my aunt was proved to be guilty and burned at the stake... But I think it was too quick and merciful death for her and far too decent, although she must be stripped down to be burned. Your sister will be rewarded with more adequate punishment for her deeds!"
Juliet and Rose looked at each other and gulped noisily, horrified with the procurator's idea, but they could do nothing.
"Well, at least it was her own idea", muttered Rose looking at her sister's pale face.
Andyman
Senator
Day 2 : afternoon
The procurator was not kidding and at the very noon Margaret was sentenced to death on the cross. When she heard the sentence she fainted again. But no complaints nor pleads could save her.
She suffered the fate of the slaves: she was stripped, whipped and forced to carry a beam out of the walls, walking in the nude through the whole city. Then she was nailed by her wrists. And then the procurator himself appeared, visiting the execution hill, and ordered the soldiers to rape the condemned. Then the broken, degraded and debased woman, crying and weeping loudly, was hauled up to the top of the stack and nailed. And all the afternoon and evening long, crowds of spectators were visiting place of her execution: some thousand men and even more women till the sunset, including her sisters, now more and more calm and satisfied and even amused with their poor sister shameful behavior: weeping as a little girl, crying stupidly for help, begging for mercy, cursing her fate, and dancing obscenely with pain...
The procurator was not kidding and at the very noon Margaret was sentenced to death on the cross. When she heard the sentence she fainted again. But no complaints nor pleads could save her.
She suffered the fate of the slaves: she was stripped, whipped and forced to carry a beam out of the walls, walking in the nude through the whole city. Then she was nailed by her wrists. And then the procurator himself appeared, visiting the execution hill, and ordered the soldiers to rape the condemned. Then the broken, degraded and debased woman, crying and weeping loudly, was hauled up to the top of the stack and nailed. And all the afternoon and evening long, crowds of spectators were visiting place of her execution: some thousand men and even more women till the sunset, including her sisters, now more and more calm and satisfied and even amused with their poor sister shameful behavior: weeping as a little girl, crying stupidly for help, begging for mercy, cursing her fate, and dancing obscenely with pain...
Andyman
Senator
Day 2
When the long, cold, lonely night ended, Margaret was much more physically tired than in the evening, as well as terrified with the unimaginable level of pain and volume of suffering she must be experiencing. She was terribly hungry and dewatered too, so in order to extend her agony she was given a pint of posca. It causes her urinating in public, which was a blank new and double more obscene and humiliating experience for a decent virgin. But after the midday she was offered no more drinks and no food at all, to the contrary: many visitors brought their own food and vine and they eat and drink in front of the condemned, laughing at her and mocking when she moans and begs for food and water.
At the verge of the night Margaret was half-conscious, exhausted with pain and shame, starving and she was no longer able to keep the remains of dignity and decency. The cross overhelmed her will and her body. But she must still bear the unbearable, till the very end...
When the long, cold, lonely night ended, Margaret was much more physically tired than in the evening, as well as terrified with the unimaginable level of pain and volume of suffering she must be experiencing. She was terribly hungry and dewatered too, so in order to extend her agony she was given a pint of posca. It causes her urinating in public, which was a blank new and double more obscene and humiliating experience for a decent virgin. But after the midday she was offered no more drinks and no food at all, to the contrary: many visitors brought their own food and vine and they eat and drink in front of the condemned, laughing at her and mocking when she moans and begs for food and water.
At the verge of the night Margaret was half-conscious, exhausted with pain and shame, starving and she was no longer able to keep the remains of dignity and decency. The cross overhelmed her will and her body. But she must still bear the unbearable, till the very end...
Andyman
Senator
Day 3
The second night was cold and windy and the condemned was happy when she felt the warm rays of the rising sun (and it was perhaps the only and the very last positive emotion during her long agony on the cross). Of course after two more hours the sun begun to burn and verbatim to mutilate her sunburned skin. The condemned girl was less than half-consciouss and non-attractive so the number of visitors ceased rapidly and the procurator decided that there is no need to keep watch for the dying criminal. He estimated that the crucified must be nearly dead till now and as a murderer of her own father she was properly rewarded, so he let the soldiers to kill her and to return to the barracks. And just before being pierced with a cold point of a javelin, Margaret regain her consciousness, slapped in face few times by her sister Julia. These was Julia, Margaret was sure, and she tried to say her name, but she couldn't make any audible voice. Rose was there too, as far as the tormented and nearly decaying brain of the crucified woman was able to notice.
"Well, we came to say farewell to you before you die. We have no longer time to assist you in your suffering, even if we want to (which is not true), because today in the evening we plan to have a supper with our good friends, Marcus and Iulius."
Rose nodded and both sister smiled thinking of the handsome guests. Margaret was not able to make any coordinated move nor emit a voice but she was looking at them so they understood she heard them and perhaps she still understood them.
"Well, before you die, I want you to know that I am glad I had sister like you. Especially so stupid sister" - added Julia and both she and Rose laughed.
"You are really stupid if you didn't think of some trick... when we were drawing our lots. I was the one who drew the longer stick! But of course I was able to break off two-inch long piece when you loitered with your stick."
"Me too," nodded Rose again.
"So your stick proved to be the longest one, you hopeless idiot!" added Rose and both sisters laughed merrily.
The crucified didn't answer but the tears in her eyes proved that she understood.
And it was too much for her tormented body and soul. She felt she couldn't take a breath and she lifted her body up with a painful face and in the same moment the sharp tip of the pilum pierced her skin and muscles, cut her rib and punched a hole in her heart's pericardium. She tried to move rear in order to avoid this new pain but there was no way to do anything. She felt she was fainting again but she couldn't slid down because the soldier kept the spar up and the blade pierced her body through and stuck into the tree, so she hanged on this new wound, slightly rotating her body and spreading her legs and bouncing with every, horribly painful, heartbeat. And when the soldier yanked the javelin out of the wound, she fell down and hung limp, while the stream of a spurting blood covered her lower body and adding fresh red colour to the brown-reddish sand under the cross.
And then Margaret died and soldiers returned to the city and the sisters to their latifundium and the evening was beautiful and the crickets and birds were singing and again everyone was happy.
The second night was cold and windy and the condemned was happy when she felt the warm rays of the rising sun (and it was perhaps the only and the very last positive emotion during her long agony on the cross). Of course after two more hours the sun begun to burn and verbatim to mutilate her sunburned skin. The condemned girl was less than half-consciouss and non-attractive so the number of visitors ceased rapidly and the procurator decided that there is no need to keep watch for the dying criminal. He estimated that the crucified must be nearly dead till now and as a murderer of her own father she was properly rewarded, so he let the soldiers to kill her and to return to the barracks. And just before being pierced with a cold point of a javelin, Margaret regain her consciousness, slapped in face few times by her sister Julia. These was Julia, Margaret was sure, and she tried to say her name, but she couldn't make any audible voice. Rose was there too, as far as the tormented and nearly decaying brain of the crucified woman was able to notice.
"Well, we came to say farewell to you before you die. We have no longer time to assist you in your suffering, even if we want to (which is not true), because today in the evening we plan to have a supper with our good friends, Marcus and Iulius."
Rose nodded and both sister smiled thinking of the handsome guests. Margaret was not able to make any coordinated move nor emit a voice but she was looking at them so they understood she heard them and perhaps she still understood them.
"Well, before you die, I want you to know that I am glad I had sister like you. Especially so stupid sister" - added Julia and both she and Rose laughed.
"You are really stupid if you didn't think of some trick... when we were drawing our lots. I was the one who drew the longer stick! But of course I was able to break off two-inch long piece when you loitered with your stick."
"Me too," nodded Rose again.
"So your stick proved to be the longest one, you hopeless idiot!" added Rose and both sisters laughed merrily.
The crucified didn't answer but the tears in her eyes proved that she understood.
And it was too much for her tormented body and soul. She felt she couldn't take a breath and she lifted her body up with a painful face and in the same moment the sharp tip of the pilum pierced her skin and muscles, cut her rib and punched a hole in her heart's pericardium. She tried to move rear in order to avoid this new pain but there was no way to do anything. She felt she was fainting again but she couldn't slid down because the soldier kept the spar up and the blade pierced her body through and stuck into the tree, so she hanged on this new wound, slightly rotating her body and spreading her legs and bouncing with every, horribly painful, heartbeat. And when the soldier yanked the javelin out of the wound, she fell down and hung limp, while the stream of a spurting blood covered her lower body and adding fresh red colour to the brown-reddish sand under the cross.
And then Margaret died and soldiers returned to the city and the sisters to their latifundium and the evening was beautiful and the crickets and birds were singing and again everyone was happy.
Andyman
Senator
I searched once again but I found only one sketch of the series "Traitor" in the recycling bin.
Andyman
Senator
The nailing.
The most terrifying in the whole crucifixion was, say, the gradual dosing of the suffering (a mixture of the physical pain, shame and fear).
At every stage you feel the same: that this time the suffering is really maximal, on the verge of your endurance and it is impossible for it to grow any more.
And stage after stage you discover you were absolutely wrong. How silly and funny you were to think so! The suffering on the next stage is often few times bigger than on the previous one and much bigger than you supposed you are able to withstand. But you have no choice and you must bear it. So, this time - you think - you met the limits. But you are wrong again: on the next stage your suffering will be once again multiplied. And so on, with no limit nor end (you think so because initially you think in terms of minutes and you cannot even imagine the entire anticipated time of your dying and intensity of your suffering).
When you are bound and the soldiers are stripping you naked in front of an amused crowd, obviously you find this experience frightening, painful and unbearable.
But when your back, buttocks, upper legs and maybe breasts and belly including genitals are being scourged, the shocking pain and utmost humiliation exceeds everything you ever experienced.
And again you are sure you can bear no more torment. Wrong again!
Then you are, half-alive after the heavy scourging, forced to carry a heavy - too heavy! - beam, lying on your shoulders scarred with whips, through the streets of your city, barefooted, naked like the last whore and blood-covered, between the crowds of the citizens, and you start to wonder how you can handle this strain and tiredness.
But soon the tiredness and humiliation deepen, when you are raped - in public, accompanied by the applauding and mocking crowd. You are wet with the tormentors' semen, defiled, exhausted, aching and terrified of what is about to happen with your poor body and soul.
But only now the execution actually begin. Till now it was just fun. A foreplay. Only from now on you will really start to suffer!
Because now the nails will be driven into your wrists. From the very first stroke of hammer you know with no doubts that now you are experiencing the really, really excruciating pain! You start to alternately lose and regain consciousness with every stroke of hammer, uncontrollably writhing, kicking your legs, crying and urinating.
And you are sure that NOTHING IN THE WORLD is more painful than being hammered mercilessly to the wooden beam like a piece of plank, not a living and suffering woman.
And of course you are wrong. Within few minutes you will be LIFTED UP and nailed to the pole, and from now on you are (and you will be till your death) HANGING WITH THE WHOLE BODY WEIGHT on the nails only!
This time you are losing not only the self-control, the remains of your dignity, the consciousness (but regaining it each time a moment later) but your mind too. Never ever you imagined such pain is bearable...! No, it is NOT bearable, far from being bearable! But you have no choice and you MUST BEAR ALL THE PAIN!!!
You can try to break free, you can writhe, you can jump up or jerk off, cry and moan, roar and squeak, weep or laugh like a madman, beg for mercy or curse the gods, the Roman justice or your own cursed life, but with all your uncontrolled moves or intentional efforts you will gain nothing at all. You can only increase your pain even more.
And every hour you'll repeatedly come the same conclusion. The utmost pain you felt before was nothing but a prelude to the more monstruous, unbelieveable, dreadful, enormous pain awaiting you in the next hour, hour after hour, day after day... The rude comments and mocking of the crowds. The growing cramping in all muscles, especially of legs. The displaced joints of the wrists, elbows and shoulders. The increasing fever. Urinating and defecating in public. The wakefullness all nights and days and the murderous headache. The terrible hunger and thirst. The sunburns. The cold night wind and morning dew. The birds sitting on the beam and shitting on your hair and face. The infected wounds, the rotting pieces of skin and flesh torn by whips. Flies and mosquitos entering your eyes and mouth, biting every inch of your naked skin. Fly larvae biting into the skin cut by whips and hatching in your anal and vaginal mucosa, eating you alive.
For the spectators you are simply a debased and dehumanized animal, exposed on the tree, and really you are no more than a piece of rotting meat, now unable even to talk nor cry, but you are not insensitive! Contrary: you are torn apart with the suffering such absolutely unimaginable and unbelievable for the viewers, that they are unable to understand how you feel even if they want to (but I can assure you they don't want to) and so they are watching your agony with curiosity, amusement, arousement or contempt, while you are suffering the excruciating torment incomparable with anything.
Five hours or ten? Twenty? A day, two, three, maybe four days? No one (including yourself) knows if you are still alive or just dead. Even if you are seemingly motionless, bluish and swollen, dirty, smelly, half-rotten and partially eaten by the crows (starting from the most accessible palms and forearms) you can still be dying and suffering horrible torment closed deep inside your dying mind.
And imagine: it all started from the exchange of the eight sesterces for the wooden plank with few simple words "Pone serva crucem" - "Put the cross(beam) on the (shoulders of a) slave woman". You mustn't be a criminal or a prisoner of war. Simply you was non-citizen yourself. And the Roman Empire (or one of the influential Roman citizens on behalf of The Rome) wanted you dead and the Romans took advantage of your dying and death. So you must die. And so you died, or maybe you will die soon.
If you are still alive, perhaps you would feel happy and proud that you was able to give them such splendid spectacle, sacrificing your body and unworthy life, although you would not be paid for nor your name would be remembered nor praised.
The most terrifying in the whole crucifixion was, say, the gradual dosing of the suffering (a mixture of the physical pain, shame and fear).
At every stage you feel the same: that this time the suffering is really maximal, on the verge of your endurance and it is impossible for it to grow any more.
And stage after stage you discover you were absolutely wrong. How silly and funny you were to think so! The suffering on the next stage is often few times bigger than on the previous one and much bigger than you supposed you are able to withstand. But you have no choice and you must bear it. So, this time - you think - you met the limits. But you are wrong again: on the next stage your suffering will be once again multiplied. And so on, with no limit nor end (you think so because initially you think in terms of minutes and you cannot even imagine the entire anticipated time of your dying and intensity of your suffering).
When you are bound and the soldiers are stripping you naked in front of an amused crowd, obviously you find this experience frightening, painful and unbearable.
But when your back, buttocks, upper legs and maybe breasts and belly including genitals are being scourged, the shocking pain and utmost humiliation exceeds everything you ever experienced.
And again you are sure you can bear no more torment. Wrong again!
Then you are, half-alive after the heavy scourging, forced to carry a heavy - too heavy! - beam, lying on your shoulders scarred with whips, through the streets of your city, barefooted, naked like the last whore and blood-covered, between the crowds of the citizens, and you start to wonder how you can handle this strain and tiredness.
But soon the tiredness and humiliation deepen, when you are raped - in public, accompanied by the applauding and mocking crowd. You are wet with the tormentors' semen, defiled, exhausted, aching and terrified of what is about to happen with your poor body and soul.
But only now the execution actually begin. Till now it was just fun. A foreplay. Only from now on you will really start to suffer!
Because now the nails will be driven into your wrists. From the very first stroke of hammer you know with no doubts that now you are experiencing the really, really excruciating pain! You start to alternately lose and regain consciousness with every stroke of hammer, uncontrollably writhing, kicking your legs, crying and urinating.
And you are sure that NOTHING IN THE WORLD is more painful than being hammered mercilessly to the wooden beam like a piece of plank, not a living and suffering woman.
And of course you are wrong. Within few minutes you will be LIFTED UP and nailed to the pole, and from now on you are (and you will be till your death) HANGING WITH THE WHOLE BODY WEIGHT on the nails only!
This time you are losing not only the self-control, the remains of your dignity, the consciousness (but regaining it each time a moment later) but your mind too. Never ever you imagined such pain is bearable...! No, it is NOT bearable, far from being bearable! But you have no choice and you MUST BEAR ALL THE PAIN!!!
You can try to break free, you can writhe, you can jump up or jerk off, cry and moan, roar and squeak, weep or laugh like a madman, beg for mercy or curse the gods, the Roman justice or your own cursed life, but with all your uncontrolled moves or intentional efforts you will gain nothing at all. You can only increase your pain even more.
And every hour you'll repeatedly come the same conclusion. The utmost pain you felt before was nothing but a prelude to the more monstruous, unbelieveable, dreadful, enormous pain awaiting you in the next hour, hour after hour, day after day... The rude comments and mocking of the crowds. The growing cramping in all muscles, especially of legs. The displaced joints of the wrists, elbows and shoulders. The increasing fever. Urinating and defecating in public. The wakefullness all nights and days and the murderous headache. The terrible hunger and thirst. The sunburns. The cold night wind and morning dew. The birds sitting on the beam and shitting on your hair and face. The infected wounds, the rotting pieces of skin and flesh torn by whips. Flies and mosquitos entering your eyes and mouth, biting every inch of your naked skin. Fly larvae biting into the skin cut by whips and hatching in your anal and vaginal mucosa, eating you alive.
For the spectators you are simply a debased and dehumanized animal, exposed on the tree, and really you are no more than a piece of rotting meat, now unable even to talk nor cry, but you are not insensitive! Contrary: you are torn apart with the suffering such absolutely unimaginable and unbelievable for the viewers, that they are unable to understand how you feel even if they want to (but I can assure you they don't want to) and so they are watching your agony with curiosity, amusement, arousement or contempt, while you are suffering the excruciating torment incomparable with anything.
Five hours or ten? Twenty? A day, two, three, maybe four days? No one (including yourself) knows if you are still alive or just dead. Even if you are seemingly motionless, bluish and swollen, dirty, smelly, half-rotten and partially eaten by the crows (starting from the most accessible palms and forearms) you can still be dying and suffering horrible torment closed deep inside your dying mind.
And imagine: it all started from the exchange of the eight sesterces for the wooden plank with few simple words "Pone serva crucem" - "Put the cross(beam) on the (shoulders of a) slave woman". You mustn't be a criminal or a prisoner of war. Simply you was non-citizen yourself. And the Roman Empire (or one of the influential Roman citizens on behalf of The Rome) wanted you dead and the Romans took advantage of your dying and death. So you must die. And so you died, or maybe you will die soon.
If you are still alive, perhaps you would feel happy and proud that you was able to give them such splendid spectacle, sacrificing your body and unworthy life, although you would not be paid for nor your name would be remembered nor praised.
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kidnapped
Governor
I really like these drawings, they show well, the distress, the humiliation and the extreme suffering of death on the cross
Andyman
Senator
The insurgent
All of the women on my sketches are unwilling to be crucified, but mostly they are terrified, ashamed and broken down, as one can expect from the innocent, surprised or resigned victim. But of course not all the subjects of real crucifixions were innocent or guilty scheming in secret - some of them were really dangerous bloody criminals, so this time you can see the self-confident, strong and experienced insurgent fighter, a former gladiatrix, full of hatred and trying to overpower her tormentors or maybe kill one more enemy if only possible before she would be killed herself.
Watching this kind of victim being crucified was less amusing but more exciting instead, and it could be even thrilling: before the nailing there was a chance that she would broke free, at least for a while, and maybe attack the witnesses, especially those who were mocking her. The soldiers must hold her with all their body weight and all the strength, and they must be especially watchful to prevent her from freeing her hands: the moment of inattention may result in one's eyeball being squeezed with her thumb or one's balls smashed with a powerful kick. People watched her like some wild predator, beautiful but dangerous.
Everyone felt relieved when she was finally nailed to the patibulum and the patibulum tied to the temporary ropes, needed to lift the criminal's body to the top of the pole. Immobilized, harmless and suffering the terrible pain, even if still tempered by the high adrenaline level in the blood, she was no longer the danger. And the more fear and respect she was arousing before, the more cruel and ruthless were the faces of the spectators now. She threatened them, ashamed them - so she must be punished!!!
And when she was finally hanged on her tree of shame, deliberately nailed with her cunt exposed and the titulus calling her "an insurgent slut" placed between her legs, there would be no end to the laugh and cruel, obscene and mocking remarks, and no one would express compassion and no one had feeling that this was too severe punishment for the female.
That's why many of the witnesses - men as well as women - were disappointed when she died after 36 hours only. In their opinion she deserved twice that long at least!
All of the women on my sketches are unwilling to be crucified, but mostly they are terrified, ashamed and broken down, as one can expect from the innocent, surprised or resigned victim. But of course not all the subjects of real crucifixions were innocent or guilty scheming in secret - some of them were really dangerous bloody criminals, so this time you can see the self-confident, strong and experienced insurgent fighter, a former gladiatrix, full of hatred and trying to overpower her tormentors or maybe kill one more enemy if only possible before she would be killed herself.
Watching this kind of victim being crucified was less amusing but more exciting instead, and it could be even thrilling: before the nailing there was a chance that she would broke free, at least for a while, and maybe attack the witnesses, especially those who were mocking her. The soldiers must hold her with all their body weight and all the strength, and they must be especially watchful to prevent her from freeing her hands: the moment of inattention may result in one's eyeball being squeezed with her thumb or one's balls smashed with a powerful kick. People watched her like some wild predator, beautiful but dangerous.
Everyone felt relieved when she was finally nailed to the patibulum and the patibulum tied to the temporary ropes, needed to lift the criminal's body to the top of the pole. Immobilized, harmless and suffering the terrible pain, even if still tempered by the high adrenaline level in the blood, she was no longer the danger. And the more fear and respect she was arousing before, the more cruel and ruthless were the faces of the spectators now. She threatened them, ashamed them - so she must be punished!!!
And when she was finally hanged on her tree of shame, deliberately nailed with her cunt exposed and the titulus calling her "an insurgent slut" placed between her legs, there would be no end to the laugh and cruel, obscene and mocking remarks, and no one would express compassion and no one had feeling that this was too severe punishment for the female.
That's why many of the witnesses - men as well as women - were disappointed when she died after 36 hours only. In their opinion she deserved twice that long at least!
