Bh5
Assistant executioner
--- The Scourging
Martina’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the torchlight that bathed the open space of the auction yard. Her ears were filled with the raucous laughter and shouts of the Romans, but her eyes only saw horrors. Two posts had been erected in the center of the courtyard, a set of chains hung from a notch on top of each post. Martina watched as two pairs of legionaries unshackled the unfortunate souls bound to the pillars. Both nude figure were lacerated and bloodied. Martina heard Chaya gasp as the first pair of legionaries dragged a nude woman past, her head hanging limply and her entire body scourged. The other victim, a man, staggered behind under his own power as the second pair of legionaries prodded him along. Martina looked over her shoulder as she heard the man stumble. He laid flat on his stomach, drenched in a liquid that pooled around him. While one guard hoisted him up forcibly, the other pointed towards the balcony above and cursed. Martina was able to glance briefly a clutch of legionaries laughing heartily, pouring jugs of wine over the balcony, soaking not only the condemned but their comrade as well.
As the women were edged closer to the whipping post, the dim roar of the drunken soldiers turned into a cacophony of jeers and catcalls. The noise became deafening when a man dressed in nothing but a centurions’ helmet and a soldiers belt, the decrative cingulum militare, entered the arena from a door to the right of the women. The stout, bald man walked the perimeter of the courtyard, pointing and jeering to the other legionaries, riling them up for the next bloodletting. The centurion smiled wickedly and his eyes were wide with drunkenness as he stopped in front of the pair of women. The crowd hushed. Martina and Chaya stood meekly before him as he studied their bodies lustfully with his gaze. Suddenly, the centurion seemed to reach the entire length of his body to grab the front of each women’s tunic, and in one swift motion pulled them down revealing the breasts and torsos of each woman. Martina gasped at the sudden shock and heard the soldiers erupt with applause as the centurion turned around and did an exaggerated bow to balcony. The legionaries escorting Martina and Chaya finished the centurion's work and soon the two women stood naked and were hustled towards the awaiting posts. Martina offered no resistance the shackles were cinched around her wrists and pulled taut so she stood straight against the post; the blood of its’ last victim was still spattered against the chipped wood and Martina tried to push herself as far away from the wet patches. “What have I done to deserve this.”, Martina thought. Chaya struggled valiantly but soon found herself shacked as well. The stakes were set in line with each other, and Martina locked eyes with Chaya but couldn’t muster anything to say.
Behind them, the voice of the centurion cut through the exuberance of the soldiery, “Boys, we’ve come to the final course of this bacchanalian evening!”. Martina heard his footsteps coming closer, “We have, if I may say, two ravenous rebels”. Martina jumped as the centurions’ bear paw smacked her ass to the enjoyment of the crowd. “Ravenous until we work our rough shot magic upon them!”. Martina’s heart felt like it would burst as the crowd reached a frenzy only to be quieted again by the centurion. “Who best to work our magic upon these rebels than my right hand, Septimius Casca.”, this drew slight applause from the soldiers, and the centurion continued, “and also a humble legionnaire, who left his home in Alexandria to fight with us, one of the first over the walls of Babylon, our own Publius Voluminus!”. The onlooking legionaries burst into chants for their comrade, ”Publius!, Publius!, Publius! “. Martina saw a young man with a tall, slender, almost graceful, build slowly step forward from the wall which he was leaning on. He seemed hesitant as he approached Martina. As he drew closer, she could see some of her own fear in his eyes as well. The pair kept their gaze as he passed by her right side, and the young soldier only broke eye contact as the centurion intercepted his path. “Don’t be too gentle.”, he said as he handed a wicked barbed flagellum to Publius. Soon, both floggers stood behind the women and the crowd waited eagerly for the centurion to signal the beginning of the women’s ordeal.
“Begin!”, the centurion boomed.
Chaya’s scream overlapped with the centurion’s command as the first stroke hit her center mass, curling around her body so the tips lashed at her stomach and ribs. Martina looked over at her agonized friend and fresh tears ran down her dirt caked face as Chaya squirmed desperately as the lashes came down like a torrent. Martina braced herself for her own agony, but it didn’t come.
Martina glanced over her shoulder but didn’t see Publius. Something lightly nipped her buttocks, then a few moments later another nip at the back of her calf. The whip barely made contact with the skin each pass. Martina inhaled sharply as one of the barbs hooked itself into her side on an errant strike. The whip seemed to slacken and wriggle as if an unseen hand was trying to carefully remove the annoyance. Chaya was barely standing and cried out in Hebrew as her torment multiplied with each passing stroke. Time seemed to pass slowly as Martina shifted uncomfortably, mainly due to the chains that pulled her arms and shoulders taut, while the whip scratched at her backside. “Publius, put some effort into it. Remember who these whores are. You think they gave a fuck about your family?”, the centurion yelled out amidst the jests of the other legionaries.
The next stroke was harder. Martina let out a shrill cry as the whip struck her right hip and was shortly followed by a strike on the other side. The intensity grew with each stroke, and the blows landed rapidly with little precision. A hit center mass was followed by a crippling strike on the tender flesh of the inner thigh. Martina screamed and moaned in pain as Publius’ lashes arched over every inch of her back, legs, and sides. Her senses narrowed to the sensation of pain as skin and muscles tore; her vision seemed to blur as if drunk and the sound of the jeering legionaries mixed with her and Chaya’s screams was drowned out. She let herself hang limply as Publius’ attack continued unabated. Straining to lift her head up, she saw that Chaya had been flipped over so that her front was now exposed to the cruelty of her torturer. She hung limply from one wrist, her legs couldn’t bear the strain which caused her to turn inward slightly as she dangled from her chained wrist. Optio Casa stood within arm’s reach to push her back against the post, hacking at her breasts, stomach and thighs before her momentum caused her to turn again.
The whipping was over as abruptly as it began, and the courtyard slowly went silent again as the legionaries retired for the evening. Martina heard Chaya’s body thud to the ground as it was released from the remaining manacle. She heard the gravel shift as Chaya was dragged back to the holding pens, then Martina was alone.
Martina’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the torchlight that bathed the open space of the auction yard. Her ears were filled with the raucous laughter and shouts of the Romans, but her eyes only saw horrors. Two posts had been erected in the center of the courtyard, a set of chains hung from a notch on top of each post. Martina watched as two pairs of legionaries unshackled the unfortunate souls bound to the pillars. Both nude figure were lacerated and bloodied. Martina heard Chaya gasp as the first pair of legionaries dragged a nude woman past, her head hanging limply and her entire body scourged. The other victim, a man, staggered behind under his own power as the second pair of legionaries prodded him along. Martina looked over her shoulder as she heard the man stumble. He laid flat on his stomach, drenched in a liquid that pooled around him. While one guard hoisted him up forcibly, the other pointed towards the balcony above and cursed. Martina was able to glance briefly a clutch of legionaries laughing heartily, pouring jugs of wine over the balcony, soaking not only the condemned but their comrade as well.
As the women were edged closer to the whipping post, the dim roar of the drunken soldiers turned into a cacophony of jeers and catcalls. The noise became deafening when a man dressed in nothing but a centurions’ helmet and a soldiers belt, the decrative cingulum militare, entered the arena from a door to the right of the women. The stout, bald man walked the perimeter of the courtyard, pointing and jeering to the other legionaries, riling them up for the next bloodletting. The centurion smiled wickedly and his eyes were wide with drunkenness as he stopped in front of the pair of women. The crowd hushed. Martina and Chaya stood meekly before him as he studied their bodies lustfully with his gaze. Suddenly, the centurion seemed to reach the entire length of his body to grab the front of each women’s tunic, and in one swift motion pulled them down revealing the breasts and torsos of each woman. Martina gasped at the sudden shock and heard the soldiers erupt with applause as the centurion turned around and did an exaggerated bow to balcony. The legionaries escorting Martina and Chaya finished the centurion's work and soon the two women stood naked and were hustled towards the awaiting posts. Martina offered no resistance the shackles were cinched around her wrists and pulled taut so she stood straight against the post; the blood of its’ last victim was still spattered against the chipped wood and Martina tried to push herself as far away from the wet patches. “What have I done to deserve this.”, Martina thought. Chaya struggled valiantly but soon found herself shacked as well. The stakes were set in line with each other, and Martina locked eyes with Chaya but couldn’t muster anything to say.
Behind them, the voice of the centurion cut through the exuberance of the soldiery, “Boys, we’ve come to the final course of this bacchanalian evening!”. Martina heard his footsteps coming closer, “We have, if I may say, two ravenous rebels”. Martina jumped as the centurions’ bear paw smacked her ass to the enjoyment of the crowd. “Ravenous until we work our rough shot magic upon them!”. Martina’s heart felt like it would burst as the crowd reached a frenzy only to be quieted again by the centurion. “Who best to work our magic upon these rebels than my right hand, Septimius Casca.”, this drew slight applause from the soldiers, and the centurion continued, “and also a humble legionnaire, who left his home in Alexandria to fight with us, one of the first over the walls of Babylon, our own Publius Voluminus!”. The onlooking legionaries burst into chants for their comrade, ”Publius!, Publius!, Publius! “. Martina saw a young man with a tall, slender, almost graceful, build slowly step forward from the wall which he was leaning on. He seemed hesitant as he approached Martina. As he drew closer, she could see some of her own fear in his eyes as well. The pair kept their gaze as he passed by her right side, and the young soldier only broke eye contact as the centurion intercepted his path. “Don’t be too gentle.”, he said as he handed a wicked barbed flagellum to Publius. Soon, both floggers stood behind the women and the crowd waited eagerly for the centurion to signal the beginning of the women’s ordeal.
“Begin!”, the centurion boomed.
Chaya’s scream overlapped with the centurion’s command as the first stroke hit her center mass, curling around her body so the tips lashed at her stomach and ribs. Martina looked over at her agonized friend and fresh tears ran down her dirt caked face as Chaya squirmed desperately as the lashes came down like a torrent. Martina braced herself for her own agony, but it didn’t come.
Martina glanced over her shoulder but didn’t see Publius. Something lightly nipped her buttocks, then a few moments later another nip at the back of her calf. The whip barely made contact with the skin each pass. Martina inhaled sharply as one of the barbs hooked itself into her side on an errant strike. The whip seemed to slacken and wriggle as if an unseen hand was trying to carefully remove the annoyance. Chaya was barely standing and cried out in Hebrew as her torment multiplied with each passing stroke. Time seemed to pass slowly as Martina shifted uncomfortably, mainly due to the chains that pulled her arms and shoulders taut, while the whip scratched at her backside. “Publius, put some effort into it. Remember who these whores are. You think they gave a fuck about your family?”, the centurion yelled out amidst the jests of the other legionaries.
The next stroke was harder. Martina let out a shrill cry as the whip struck her right hip and was shortly followed by a strike on the other side. The intensity grew with each stroke, and the blows landed rapidly with little precision. A hit center mass was followed by a crippling strike on the tender flesh of the inner thigh. Martina screamed and moaned in pain as Publius’ lashes arched over every inch of her back, legs, and sides. Her senses narrowed to the sensation of pain as skin and muscles tore; her vision seemed to blur as if drunk and the sound of the jeering legionaries mixed with her and Chaya’s screams was drowned out. She let herself hang limply as Publius’ attack continued unabated. Straining to lift her head up, she saw that Chaya had been flipped over so that her front was now exposed to the cruelty of her torturer. She hung limply from one wrist, her legs couldn’t bear the strain which caused her to turn inward slightly as she dangled from her chained wrist. Optio Casa stood within arm’s reach to push her back against the post, hacking at her breasts, stomach and thighs before her momentum caused her to turn again.
The whipping was over as abruptly as it began, and the courtyard slowly went silent again as the legionaries retired for the evening. Martina heard Chaya’s body thud to the ground as it was released from the remaining manacle. She heard the gravel shift as Chaya was dragged back to the holding pens, then Martina was alone.