Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Crucifixion of a Slave

Antonia heard the soldier come into the courtyard and speak with her mistress, Cornelia. They stood in the early morning light that flooded the central square of the house. This wasn't unusual, the master of the house was an important man in their town and there were frequently visits from officials of various kinds. It was a little unusual for the soldier to be speaking with her mistress, however.

Antonia was a beautiful girl with long dark hair and smooth olive skin. One of five slaves in the household she served inside the home cleaning and keeping things in order, as well as serving meals and assisting her owner, the mistress of the house, with dressing and the like. She didn't mind the work too much. Her village had been razed by the Romans when she was only seven and she had been sold into slavery, which had actually been a step up in the world. At 19, she was used to her life as a slave and was happy. She had more to eat and better shelter than when she had been in her village.

Her mistresses voice raised and echoed through the courtyard into the room Antonia was sweeping. "But what am I to be compensated! Isn't it enough I lose one, must I lose them all? How can you tell me this!"

Something was wrong. Cornelia sounded upset and was complaining to the guard about something. She caught the guard saying something about "it's the law" and the Emperor, but nothing else. Their voices faded as they left the central courtyard. Antonia finished cleaning the room and then went to collect some water from the nearby well.

As she trudged to the stone circle a few residences away, two roman soldiers approached her. "Are you Antonia, of the household of Hadrian?"

"Yes. What is it?" Antonia began to feel uneasy. She was a good worker and had never been in trouble and this was the first time a soldier had asked specifically for her. When the two soldiers took her arms, quickly shackling her wrists behind her back, the unease spread to fear.

"What are you doing? I am fetching water for the household, this is my mistresses orders, I am doing nothing wrong! Please, don't hurt me, I am a good servant of Cornelia and Hadrian, and I must return there or they will miss me--"

Her increasingly high, tense voice was cut short when one of the guards hit her in the mouth and said perfunctorily, "Shut up. Your mistress is aware. Come with us."

Walking through the streets of the town with her wrists in irons, between two soldiers, Antonia felt as if every eye was on her. She hung her head, crying quietly, not understanding. Her lips and jaw ached from being punched. A little blood trickled down her chin, but she could do nothing as her hands were shackled securely behind her.

The soldiers took her to a barn at the end of the town, opened the doors, and pushed her inside. The door closed behind her with a rattle. She stood for a moment trying to let her eyes adjust to the relative darkness inside.

"Antonia! Is that you?" It was the voice of Marcus, the strong young man of 21 years that she had recently taken as her lover. Marcus was also a slave in Hadrian's house, though he worked more of the outdoor tasks. Antonia gasped and fell against her lover's chest. His arms were secured behind his back, as well.

"Marcus, what is happening? Why are we here?" Now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see that the barn contained herself, Marcus, Hadrian's other house slave Salus (a tall lean woman of about 30), and Teod, an older male slave that dealt with the horses and was the spouse of Salus. These other slaves from her household were sitting on the floor on the far side of the barn, leaning against each other as if they were very afraid. Their fear installed dread in Antonia.

"Marcus. Where is Septimus?" The dread in Antonia's voice made it shake. She pressed her body against her lover's as if they could meld and somehow make the dread dissipate.

"I don't know Antonia. I haven't seen him since yesterday." Marcus intoned the words as if they were somehow terrible news. "None of us have seen him."

"Gone! Gone is where he is! The little bastard. Spawn of jackals!" The sudden vehemence of Teod's outburst shocked Antonia. At first she didn't comprehend. She might not have liked Septimus, the last of the slaves of the house of Hadrian, but what was it about him that had made Teod hate him so?

Then, with a shaking, quiet voice that belied the horrible fear she felt, Salus spoke. "Escaped. Ran away. Gone and taken some of Cornelia's gold with him. Who knows where he is, though I don't suppose he will get far."

"So we are being kept here because they think we will run away as well? That makes no sense. This is silly! Why are we locked up here?" Antonia did not yet understand, and began speaking quickly, trying to explain away the situation.

Marcus kissed her, and with tears in his eyes, explained what she once had known but long forgotten. "When a slave runs away, they don't just track him down and kill him. They kill all the slaves of his household. Whether they catch him or not, I don't expect us to live much longer."

Antonia went numb for a moment, wishing that Marcus could wrap his arms around her and hold her. She now understand the anger and hatred that came from Teod. Tears welled up in her eyes and slowly trickled down her cheeks as she realized that her time was short, as was the time of her fellow slaves, shackled and held in this barn.



The soldiers returned to the barn about noon, when the sun was high and the heat of the day was climbing. The barn doors opened and several of the soldiers entered. Antonia was able to peek outside and saw more soldiers than she had ever seen in her life. A centurion led them, and was giving instructions. Some of the soldiers were working, doing something she didn't understand off to the side of the building.

Four of the soldiers went over to Salus and Teod and grabbed them. Teod struggled suddenly and violently, trying to break free. Salus cried out as the guards rammed the blunt end of their spears into his body, knocking him breathless to the floor. They then picked him up and dragged him out of the barn, the sobbing Salus being led behind them.

Antonia shivered in fear and hid behind Marcus trying to look small. Four more guards entered the barn and took Marcus. Marcus was the youngest and strongest of the slaves, and they took no chances with him. Swords at the ready, the held him tightly as they guided him out of the barn. A few minutes later they returned for Antonia.

When they first took hold of Antonia, the girl automatically tried to struggle and get away. It was an instinctive reaction, but their strong grip on her arms and a squeeze of her neck quickly reminded her that her thin frame was no match for these warriors. They shoved her out into the noon sun and guided her to the side of the barn where they thrust her down to the ground next to Salus and Teod. Righting herself from having fallen on her stomach, she heard Salus quietly crying next to her. Before them Marcus knelt completely naked, his clothes a shredded mess on the ground. The soldiers had a heavy beam and were tying it to Marcus' arms and shoulders, stretched out.

"What are they doing?" Whispered Antonia to Salus. She didn't answer but Teod said "they are forcing us to carry the instrument of our death to the execution place."

"That wood? What? I don't understand, Teod. Will they crush us with wood beams?"

Toed laughed, "No, dear. They will nail us to the wood beams and hang us out on display. We are being crucified, didn't you know?"

Antonia went numb and sat looking at the dirt under her legs as the soldiers grabbed Teod and dragged him out to the place where Marcus knelt, the heavy beam tilted to one side until it touched the ground. She knew of crucifixion, of course. She had never seen it, though, and had never thought of it as a reality in their town. But here it was, and she was about to suffer the cruelest fate that could be imagined in Roman occupied territory.

Teod struggled against the soldiers as they ripped his clothes off. In response, two soldiers held his arms wide as a third took a long, evil looking whip that had knots tied in the strips of leather and began beating the back of the hapless slave. Teod screamed at the first few strokes, struggling helplessly as red lines formed across his flesh, followed by blood trickling down. The beating continued until Teod was no longer struggling, having fallen to his knees.

Once the fight had been beaten out of him, the soldiers dragged another heavy beam over. Lifting Teod's limp arms up, they wrapped the wood beam to his limbs and shoulders. When they were done and let go of the beam, its weight pulled Teod down to the ground.

Salus was next. Sobbing and struggling ineffectively, her clothes were ripped from her body, exposing her breasts which bobbled as she struggled, and then her hips and the soft hair between her legs. The lips of her womanhood could be clearly seen outlined against the bright sun behind her. A few strokes of the whip brought forth some agonized screams from the woman before the rough men tied the beam to her arms and shoulders. It was very heavy for her and she fell to the ground immediately.

Antonia had been looking at this scene with fear that overwhelmed her senses. She could not believe what was happening; she was numb inside, and while tears rolled down her cheeks she did not resist when the soldiers lifted her up and dragged her next to the naked Salus. But, when she felt rough hands grab her clothing and begin tearing it off, she instinctively pulled away. With a rough shove, she was placed over a wooden hitching post and the whip sliced through her clothes to bite into her back. The pain was so sudden, so biting, that she screamed until every bit of air was gone from her lungs. Moments later she felt the cool breeze against her skin, and she knew she was naked.

One soldier held her arms stretched out before her as she was bent over the wooden hitching post; he did not release her. She knew that a beam would soon be tied to her arms like her beloved Marcus, but it wasn't happening... she waited, wondering, crying.

A rough boot kicked the insides of her shins, knocking them farther apart. A soldier stood behind her, she felt him press up against her buttocks and then felt his erection as it probed between her legs. She twisted her hips to try and move away but the heavy boots kicked her legs almost out from under her and she settled her stomach on the hitching post with a loud "ooooooof". The soldiers cock pushed hard, separating the soft flesh of her sex and painfully penetrating her dry vagina. The soldier began thrusting hard, each thrust a pain but as he thrust the pain subsided and Antonia felt her body reacting to the sex. She could not help it, her body lubricated itself and her hips thrust against the probing soldier behind her. Hands grabbed her dangling breasts and held them, squeezing her nipples painfully as they swelled and the soldiers thrusts became more urgent.

It was over fairly quickly, with a jerking spasm and loud moaning grunt, the soldier ejaculated his seed into the slave. She hung her head in shame at having been publicly used this way, and that her body had betrayed her and actually enjoyed it. She had mated with Marcus, of course, but he had been the only one. Until now.

Still the soldier held her arms, forcing her to bend over the hitching post rail. How could this be? Antonia wondered, what more they could do to her before killing her? The answer came as another soldier pressed behind her and as she cried out in desperation, "NO!", entered her now slick and lubricated vagina with a single thrust. This man had a smaller penis than the last, but was more eager and thrust harder; Antonia's hips and stomach were jammed against the wooden rail as the enthusiastic soldier pushed over and over again using deep and hard strokes. He also shuddered and spurt his semen inside of her, and then as he pulled out laughed and joined in a cheer with other soldiers.

And so it went on. After a few more men, the soldier holding her arms became tired and wanted his turn. He reached his hand down to take some of the semen leaking from between her legs and smeared it up to her anus, pushing it in and using it as a lubricant before he thrust his member deep inside her buttocks. Antonia did not react any more other than to continue crying with dry tears; at times grunting from the air being squeezed from her lungs from the violence of the sex that was thrust upon her from behind. The men liked to hear her grunt; they pushed hard on her.

How many times she was raped, by how many men, she didn't know. She was meat now. Defiled and humiliated. She welcomed death and wished they would kill her quickly. When they were done, they let go of her and she slipped off the hitching rail and down to the ground, motionless. Her face hit the ground and her mouth filled with dirt.

Antonia was aware when the soldiers pulled her arms out on either side of her. Then the heavy beam was laid across her shoulders and rope was wound around her wrists and arms, tying her to the wood. It didn't hurt, though it was heavy; the young slave was still trying to understand what was happening to her and her lover, and the other slaves of her household.

"UP! Stand up! Lift yourselves, get up and stand! Push!" The guard that was in charge, a centurion, was yelling at the slaves. Antonia heard the crack of the whip and Salus screamed once again. Marcus and Teod were grunting and moaning. Then a searing pain streaked across Antonia's lower back as the whip sliced her skin open. She screamed again, but could hear the centurion demanding "Up, whore! Stand up. Lift the cross! We march through town now!"

Antonia struggled and tried to lift the heavy wood beam, but could not. After a moments trying, two of the guards lifted the ends of the beam allowing her to stand and get it balanced. They let go, and the weight bore down on her, almost too much to bear. But if she kept it balanced she could remain standing and if she bent slightly she took most of the weight on her shoulders and was able to lift. It was the heaviest thing she had ever had to carry, and it surprised her that she could. The searing pain of the whip inspired her to expend more strength than she ever knew she had.

"March! Forward!" The crack of the whip again, a grunt from Marcus and the four of them began walking, staggering, down the street. Antonia saw Marcus' naked form walking in front of her, his strong legs and back holding up the beam. Even with all that was happening, she could not help but be aroused and think of Marcus making love to her. She loved him so, and felt herself becoming aroused watching him walked naked before her.

Her own nudity did not bother her until they walked through the central square of town. There many people had gathered, especially men, and they were watching and commenting, even calling out to the four slaves on their death walk. The men shouted out lewd comments to her, commenting on her breasts (which dangled before her as she was hunched over carrying the heavy beam on her shoulders), and her buttocks. In fact, it was clear they were observing every part of her body and this made Antonia flush with humiliation. She staggered and could not help but spread her legs as she walked in order to keep the beam stable.

Every once in a while, one of the slaves would slump down, or fall; this always resulted in the whip biting deep into their body. Marcus' back was covered with red stripes, and Antonia felt her ass and legs burning like fire from the repeated kiss of the leather. Each time the whip struck her, a cheer rose from the crowd, which humiliated her even more. Black despair covered her mind and body, and she sank to her knees in the dirt.

Two guards lifted the beam up and the centurion whipped Antonia mercilessly. She screamed and struggled but no matter how she moved her body remained exposed to the hissing leather that wrapped around her, delivering pain worse than she had ever experienced. The crowd was pleased with this show, Antonia's flesh rippled and sweat from her skin spread in a fine mist as the leather struck her. The tip of the whip found her breasts, caressing a nipple. Her helpless, exposed body jerked and exposed itself to the fascinated crowd.

Finally, the whipping stopped. She was dragged forward, the two guards holding the ends of the beam moving along the street until they reached a small hill just outside the town. There, Antonia fell to the ground, exhausted and unable to struggle further.

She lay in the hot sun for some time, hearing the soldiers working nearby. Without warning, there was a scream. Antonia turned her head and lifted it, looking through the straggled hair which hung before her face to see what was happening. Salus was on her back, arms stretched out against the beam, and four or five soldiers were holding her down as she struggled and screamed again. One soldier was lifting a hammer, which descended and struck something, causing Salus to scream. This went on for a while, though Antonia could not see exactly what was happening.

Finally, the soldiers stood and began lifting Salus' wooden beam and Antonia could see what had happened. As Salus was slowly raised, Antonia saw that her arms had been nailed to the wood beneath her, and the heavy beam was now attached to the upright of the cross. The spikes which held Salus spread wide were barely visible, they had been pounded in all the way; there was some blood trickling from the wounds, but not much.

Antonia struggled to go to Salus, not thinking but reacting with instinct to try and help. It was difficult to lift the heavy beam but she got up into a kneeling position just as Salus' cross slipped into a hole that had been dug just below her feet. The sudden drop of about two feet jerked to a stop and Salus' body was jerked down on the cross as well, causing yet another agonized scream from the crucified slave. Her face was contorted in suffering, the weight of her body hung from her outstretched arms and the nails that held her in place. She sobbed and cried out as she hung from the wood.

A yell interrupted her attention from Salus and she turned slightly. A few feet from her was Marcus. There were six soldiers holding him down, and two were pounding spikes into his wrists. She could see this clearly this time; the spikes positioned at the wrists, and the hammer suddenly driving them into the soft flesh. His arms bloated and twisted slightly as Marcus screamed at the horrible pain of the spikes spreading and cracking his wrist bones. He also struggled, but to no avail. His naked body was shiny with sweat, and Antonia could not help but think of when he had lain next to her, and inside her. She wished she could help him now, she would give her life for him, but instead she fell to the ground, unable to keep the heavy wood beam up any longer.

She saw Marcus raised into position, heard his cries mingled with those of Salus. She called out to him, cried for him, begged the soldiers for mercy for him. Instead, the soldiers came to her, untied her from the beam and pulled her over to the upright of another cross. A few well placed nails attached her own crossbeam to the cross's upright and she was dragged, struggling once again, and thrown down on her back on top of the splintered wood of the cross.

Antonia was small and thin, and so only three soldiers attended her nailing. Her left arm was first. Stretched out but not to it's limit, a soldier took her arm and positioned the wrist facing up. He held the wrist in place as he took a spike and pressed the point into a place just above the palm of her hand, at the wrist. Antonia watched this and felt the point of the spike as it was positioned. A wave of panic came over her and she struggled and screamed in fear as she watched the hammer go up and then descend.

Her arm exploded in pain as the spike cut through the flesh, tendons and muscle of her wrist. A second blow of the hammer and the pain increased to a horrible, ghastly level and she saw spots in front of her eyes as the pain gripped her. The third blow and the spike was through and into the wood. With the fourth blow the nail was in, and her left arm was firmly fastened to her cross.

The process was repeated with her right arm. She looked over in panic and tried to struggle. The soldiers held her down, their hands pressing her naked flesh and groping her breasts as they did. The hammer drove the spike in and she nearly fainted from the agony that was spreading across her arms to encompass her shoulders. Her voice was hoarse and worn from constant screaming, but she couldn't stop. Her mind could no longer remember who she was, what she had done, why this was happening; the pain flooded her mind and pushed everything else out.

The sensation of being lifted up brought her awareness back to her surroundings. The pain was horrible, but she was able to understand that she was being lifted into place, to hang from the cross. Her chest heaved and breasts bobbled as she gasped from the pain as her body began sliding down the wood, her back scraped down the upright of the cross, and splinters dug into her, inch after inch. Suddenly, she dropped down and her body descended until it stopped with a jerk that yanked on her arms. The nails held her in place, but the iron tore more muscles and nerves, cracking bone and causing another wave of massive pain as she hung in place, feet dangling, all her weight on her shattered wrists.

Antonia fainted from the pain.

What woke her was another piercing, agonizing pain that originated in her feet. She had little comprehension of what was happening; her legs were bent, her feet pressed against the cross. A horrible pain covered her feet and she tried to look down.

Surprisingly, she was able to see her feet. They had been nailed to the cross with a single spike; her legs were bent at an odd angle that spread her knees apart, exposing herself. She shifted her weight a little to try and ease the pain in her feet and felt a sudden, mind numbing agony from her wrists.

Antonia twisted to the side, trying to relieve the pressure on one of her wrists. Her buttock projected to the side of the cross and her legs twisted in an unnatural manner, causing the nail in her feet to scrape against bone. She screamed, and shifted back, and then screamed again at the nail in her left wrist scraping and pulling apart the shattered bone in her arm. She panted for a moment, trying to get her breath, then tried again, moving carefully in another direction, trying to find a way to minimize the pain. This time, her shoulders and back began cramping terribly and she leaned forward slightly, away from the cross, trying to stretch and relieve the cramps. This caused immediate agony from both wrists and her feet.

In desperation, Antonia thrust herself out, hoping that her weight could dislodge one of her wrists from the spikes. Instead, it just forced her wrists to shred further, with new sensitive tissue tearing and the agony renewing and spreading.

Though she was not aware of it, a crowd had gathered and was watching the four slave's agony on the cross. Antonia was the focus of most of the crowd, partly because she was young and her naked body continued to appear very alluring. It was also because she was writhing on the cross much more actively, twisting and turning, pushing forward and back, all of which excited the crowd. Her breathing, cries and straining caused her chest and breasts, covered with a sheen of sweat, to expand and contract. Her ribs were clearly seen below her flesh, and her breasts bounced from her futile struggles. Her feet were nailed in such a way that her legs spread and all could see her private sex.

The other three slaves were struggling in the same manner, attempting to find some way to lessen the pain. There was no way, of course, the torture of the cross was designed to be relentless, agonizing, and permanent. And yet, there was nothing they could do but try. The pain urged them on, pushing them to struggle, twist and writhe.

When Antonia began to be exhausted and slowed her struggles, she saw that she was positioned directly across from Marcus. Marcus hung from his cross, stretched with flesh taught and muscles pulled so they could be seen clearly. Antonia, in spite of her pain, looked at Marcus with both love and desire. His body looked strong and handsome, even in this terrible position.

And then Antonia saw something else. Her senses were not quite right, but she knew what she was seeing because she had seen it before. Marcus had an erection. His penis was engorged, large and full and hard, sticking straight out and a little up. Antonia wanted Marcus at that moment, though he was several feet away from her and she would never feel his sex again. Antonia lowered her head and hung on the cross in despair.

Marcus was having trouble breathing, and Antonia noticed that she was as well. As she grew exhausted, it became harder to breathe as she hung nailed from the wood. She saw Marcus struggle, and with great pain he lifted himself up on his nailed feet. He cried out in pain, but breathed deeply as he reached a standing position.

As Marcus reached the standing position, Antonia noticed that there was something on Marcus's cross, behind his body. It seemed to be a rod of some sort, just behind his buttocks. He had revealed it when he rose.

Marcus had been given a sedile. But this was not just any sedile, this was a simple rod which extended up and out from the cross, and had been inserted into his anus. Antonia saw that as Marcus rose, the phallic rod slid out of his rectum, almost (but not quite) exiting his anus. When Marcus no longer had the strength to endure the upright position, he sank back down to the hanging position, and the rod sank back inside his bowels.

Antonia struggled to raise herself as well. It was more painful than she had imagined, her feet felt like they were on fire and pain ripped up her legs as she pushed. Pulling on the nails in her wrists, she finally screamed in agony but reached the upright position where she was able to breath a little better. It lasted but a few seconds and she quickly slid back down.

As horrible as the crucifixion dance was for Antonia, it was worse for Marcus. Each time he raised himself up, the sedile slid out; when he slid back down, it impaled him deeply. This motion essentially had Marcus fucking himself, and the subsequent embarrassing sexual arousal could be seen by all. Next to Antonia, Marcus drew the next largest crowd.

The slaves crosses were not tall. Their feet were nailed only a foot or two off the ground, and they hung almost at eye level for the crowd that observed them. The result was an obscene display where the crucified slaves appeared to mingle with the crowd, as if they were a part of the milling excitement themselves. The contrast between two people standing next to each other, one dressed and smiling, the other naked, nailed and in agony was truly vile.

Marcus continued his labored up and down motion, slowly fucking himself until his erection grew larger and harder than Antonia had ever seen it. With a hideous groan of pain and pleasure, his penis jerked and Marcus ejaculated a load of white semen onto the ground below him. The crowd that had been watching almost cheered and seemed extremely excited by this unexpected occurrence.

In the mean time, Antonia's misery had flooded from her wrists down her arms and across her back. Cramps settled into her shoulders and down to her hips. The backs of her legs ached and twitched by themselves while her muscles tried to regain some control and use. She had stopped writhing in place, though she still rose and sank periodically.

Late in the day, Antonia lost all control over her body functions. It started as she peed, a heavy spray squirting out and down. Some of the crowd was actually caught in the urine flow and rapidly moved away. Her loss of bladder control was followed by a loss of bowel control. A sickening flow of feces was expelled from her buttocks and spread down the lower part of the cross. The smell drove many of the crowd away. Antonia's suffering was steadily increasing, the pain surrounding her entire body and now penetrating it. Her insides were burning and cramping as well as her limbs.

Antonia cried out for mercy with all her strength. She did not know what mercy could be shown, whether she could be killed quickly or released from the hideous cross. She simply had to beg, and beg she did. "Please, please... someone... help me. Kill me, stop this pain, stop this horror!" she sobbed.

A few minutes later a soldier appeared with a large, dripping wet sponge attached to a stick. Some small bit of mercy was being offered to her, and Antonia opened her mouth, took in the sponge and sucked hard. She almost vomited when she tasted the liquid; it was vinegar. Her already parched mouth shrank and shriveled and her thirst double, tripled. A laugh from the soldier, as she realized there was no mercy, there was only agony that would go on forever.

There were a number of slaves in the crowd, brought by owners to show them what happened when a slave tried to escape. Torture, exposure, humiliation, and death awaited them if any one of their number should attempt to run away. This was the real reason that the four slaves were being publicly executed in this horrible manner; as an example to drive fear into the rest of the slave population.

During the evening, many men left their homes and came down to see the crucified as they slowly died. Many men had gather around Antonia. She had always been attractive, and now that she was nailed naked in public, she attracted many of those that had secretly lusted after her. Some of the men, now that the wives and women of the village were home, actually exposed themselves in front of her, using her exposure and agony to arouse themselves. Marcus was not the only one who ejaculated his seed at her feet that evening.

As the night proceeded, Antonia realized the pain from the spikes had almost left her; her wrists and hands were numb, as were her feet. If she moved to raise herself, the pain came back as the nails ground down against new bone and nerves, but the pain eventually subsided into a deep ache across her entire body. The cold of the night penetrated her, and for a while, she shivered uncontrollably.

Near dawn, Antonia's owner, Cornelia, came and stood next to her, carefully studying her. She said nothing, but merely studied Antonia's down turned face. Finally, she reached out, caressed one of Antonia's breasts and then left.

In the morning, it became clear that Salus and Teod were dead. The hung unmoving from their crosses, not attempting to breath. Flies gathered around them in swarms. Many of the flies came to Antonia as well, crawling all over her body, making her itch. She could not scratch, and this new torture, as small as it was, seemed to push her over the edge of madness. Antonia began to babble, drooling saliva down over her neck and breasts. Flies crawled over her face and into her open mouth. She made no attempt to get rid of them.

One of the soldiers posted as a guard came over to Antonia and shooed away the flies. He checked to see if Antonia was alive, pressing his hand to her naked breast, chest and stomach. She was. She reacted to his touch. He in turn felt her nipples, pinching them and watching her jerk. The drool dried; there was no more. Antonia was dehydrating quickly.

"A shame," the soldier said, sliding his hands over Antonia's naked body.

He walked over to Marcus, who was barely breathing. The centurion came over and took a spear and plunged it into Marcus's side, near his heart. Marcus barely jerked at this last violation of his body, and blood flooded out of the wound. A few minutes later he was dead.

Antonia was the last to die. She lasted until that afternoon. She saw her lover, Marcus, as he died. She felt the flies swarm her face, and the leer of the lingering men and soldiers. The agony was throughout all of her throughout the day, cramps in every muscle, hunger and thirst eating her from inside. Her humiliation was complete, as her body was touched by the soldiers at will, her legs spread and arms outstretched in a hideous parody of a woman accepting her lover.

Finally, she lapsed into sweet unconsciousness and hung from the cross, oblivious to all around her. Her last breath came as the sun set on that second day. It was so shallow, no one noticed it.

The four slaves remained nailed to their crosses for several days as a reminder to all of the unforgiving nature and absolute obedience demanded by the Romans.


Monday, January 10, 2011

Humiliation of Crucifixion



Arana was a tall, thin girl of mixed Roman and Greek descent known as being the most beautiful woman in the city. Her legs were lean and muscular, breasts perfectly formed, with a thin waist that emphasized her hips. Men in the city had all looked and dreamt of her for several years, and she knew it. Her dark brunette hair was always washed, smooth, and the envy of all the women.

The brief trial was attended heavily. Word was spread that Arana was on trial for sedition against the empire, and her fame drew every man that could afford the time to attend. They hoped for a glimpse of the beauty, perhaps stripped to the waist for a whipping or some other punishment. Such a spectacle would provide masturbation fodder for weeks to come.

Arana had been shaking with fear as the charges were read; her legal representation, a former lover, failed to counter most of the charges and the judge deliberated only a moment before announcing the death sentence.
Crucifixion. Immediately.

Arana felt the room wobble and then go black as she fainted and fell on the floor. When she awoke, her wrists were bound tightly and she was hanging from the city whipping post in the center square. She was desperately thirsty, for the sun beat down and she was sweating profusely. The ropes bit deeply into her wrists, and a smear of blood stained the rough fiber as she wriggled.

She quickly forgot about her gradually numbing hands as she surveyed the huge crowd that had gathered for the traditional pre-crucifixion scourging. It seemed the entire town had come to see her pain. Their eyes stared at her, filled with lust, hate, fear, love, desire... so many emotions. All eyes focused intently on her, waiting for her pain to fulfill or shock them. Tears sprang to her eyes as she sobbed. Her cries caused a stir in the crowd. Many sighed, some laughed or ridiculed her, a few seemed upset. By far, the most common reaction was cheering, as if her tears fed some desire or lust.

A rough hand grabbed her toga from behind and yanked, jerking her back, yanking her suspended wrists tightly, tearing the cloth of her clothes downward. The cloth ripped and fell away from her back, exposing the smooth flesh in preparation for the lash.

"The front," "More, more!" "Tear the cloth away," "Expose her!" the crowd cried. Arana sobbed in humiliation as the executioner tore the front of her shift away, exposing her dangling breasts. The crowd cheered at the site of the perfectly sized lobes projected on either side of the whipping post, nipples pointed straight out, curves sloping down and around in a half oval that met her chest beneath with perfect smoothness. Arana closed her eyes tightly, feeling the open air brushing against her bare flesh, trying to shut out the cheering and drooling crowd.

Without warning, the lash slashed out and pain exploded across the flesh of her back and shoulders. Arana screamed and arched her back. The crowd made a uniform noise, as if they all had taken in a breath at the same time. As the lash struck her again, Arana felt her body involuntarily wriggling, trying to get away but unable to move more than a few inches. She looked out across the sea of faces. So many of them were men, men she knew, and most were looking on with lust, desire, enjoyment.

The scourge continued to strike her, again and again, and Arana looked at the pleasure that her pain and screams were providing for so many in the crowds. She became aware of how they reacted when she moved as the whip made her struggle, and when she did the crowd seemed to follow and enjoy her movements. Her body had been used as a tool in the past, enticing and teasing men. Now its agony was providing pleasure to men and women alike.

For the women were also looking on with delight. The knotted leather of the scourge sliced across her flesh once again, licking the side of her right breast. As she jumped and sagged to the left, Arana saw that a number of the women in the crowd were talking excitedly amongst themselves, smiling and even laughing at her uncontrollable jerking. Arana lowered her eyes and bit her lip, unable to look at the whole town viewing her naked breasts, and her body reacting to the pain of the lash.

When the whipping was over, they unhooked her arms from the whipping post, allowing her to collapse at its base. She curled slightly, crying softly. Her back was wet and the blood was already caking as it mixed with the dirt on the ground.

She wasn't allowed to rest. Moments after falling to the ground, she was heaved up and made to stand, bare from the waist up, in the middle of the city square. She tried to hide her naked breasts by bringing her arms up, holding the shreds of cloth from her torn shift. Those in the front of the crowd saw her attempt at modesty and laughed. A few of the women jeered, making ugly remarks about how she wasn't going to be so pretty soon.

A heavy beam of wood had been dragged to her side. The 6"x6" beam was about 5 feet long and rough cut. She was forced by the guards to pick the beam up to her shoulders, and several loops of rope secured the beam to her outstretched arms. She realized that this beam was part of the cross that would kill her, and that she was being forced to carry it to the execution hill, just outside of the city gates. It was heavy, and her loss of blood made her weak. As she sank down to her knees, another lash of the whip cut across her lower back, and she struggled back to her feet and began walking.

The cross beam held her arms up and out, and she was unable to cover her naked breasts. The crowd made way for her as she walked, and with each effort-filled step her breasts bobbed slightly. She could see everyone observing, seeing her nakedness, and she hung her head. Her long hair covered her face and prevented anyone from seeing her mental anguish as she trudged on.

Before long they crowd had followed Arana all the way to the bottom of the hill. The lash encouraged her up the low slope to the top, which rose only about 10 feet or so above the road below. The hill was a gentle one, with a large open area at the top. The guards kept the crowd from surging to the top of the hill, but they were still only a few feet away when Arana collapsed on her back, looking up at the blue, hot sky with her arms still stretched out, tied to the beam that would be with her until her death. She lay panting, trying to ignore the crowds as they pushed forward to look at her pain.

She lay recovering from the exhausting trek out of the city. The sky remained blue above her as she rested on the ground and stared up. Until, that is, the vision of the centurion, the leader of the guards, appeared above her. What remained of her clothing was yanked and pulled, tearing and sliding down. She struggled, trying to keep them from removing her last protection from exposing herself completely, but it was no use. The cloth tore away and she felt the breeze slide across her bare skin. The exposure of her breasts had been nothing. Her sex was now exposed for all the city to see as she lay on the ground.

Rough hands forced her legs apart and she felt something pushing between them. Moments later she was penetrated and she looked up to see the face of the centurion above her as he shoved himself deep within her. She cried out in humiliation and fear as he thrust repeatedly. Unable to get away or to really fight back because she was tied to the heavy beam, Arana simply wriggled beneath the heavy soldier as he raped her. This excited the watching crowd. Several of the guards had positioned themselves so that they could see the penetration clearly.

When the centurion finally grunted and thrust to a climax, a small cheer went up. It had been a good show, one that most of the guards and men in the crowd wished they could duplicate. Arana was shapely and beautiful, very enticing as she lay tied and on the ground, legs slightly spread exposing her sex for all to see. She realized in a moment that the rape was over, and brought her legs together, trying to regain some tiny bit of privacy. She turned her head and sobbed quietly.

The time had come, and several of the soldiers approached Arana where she lay on the ground. One held her from moving by holding her chest (and feeling her breasts as he did). Another turned her arm wrist up, ready for nailing. The third took a long spike and positioned the point against the palm of her hand. The spike was pressed against the heel of her palm, just before the wrist, and angled in slightly.

Arana looked in disbelief as the heavy mallet was raised high and then came down with a force that drove the spike into her flesh and into the bones at the meeting of the hand and wrist. The sound of the thunk was echoed by the squishing sound of flesh and cracking of bones as the spike shattered her hand. Pain worse than anything she had felt before suddenly shot from her wrist up her arm and into her back as nerves were smashed and pushed aside. Her screams cut the air once again as she began to kick and jerk, trying to get free.

The crowd gathered closer to watch the involuntary writhing of the condemned from the intense pain. Screams filled the air, drowning out the satisfied murmering of the citizens gathered to watch Arana's humiliating execution. Two more thunks from the huge mallet and the spike was through her hand and embedded deep in the wood beneath. The soldiers let go and Arana instinctively tried to free her arm, but the shattering of nerves kept her from controlling or manipulating her hand. Pulling just ground the spike against bone and nerves, making her scream again, and she quickly stopped.

The other arm was turned and exposed. The crowd shifted their focus to Arana's other side as they watched the careful placement of the spike, the pitiful cries from the condemned girl as her bare chest heaved in sobs, and the hammer rising up. A few of the men in the audience pushed for position as they discretely touched themselves. Seeing Arana's naked body was enough to arouse any man, but seeing her writhe was simply too much for some.

The second spike sliced through and crushed Arana's hand as the first had, separating bone and mangling nerves in a way designed to cause agony. The crowd observed the torture of the condemned as she jerked and convulsed, both hands now firmly affixed to the patibulum. There was no longer any need to hold her in place.

The long wooden post of the cross stood already embedded in place. Crucifixions were frequent enough that the soldiers didn't want to be constantly digging holes and raising the crosses. Instead, ladders were placed against the stipes and Arana was slowly dragged upright by two soldiers lifting the patibulum higher up the post. As she was dragged back and up, her legs kicked and struggled, flopping about uselessly. The crowd sighed in approval at her fight, which made the sight of her crucifixion and ordeal more exciting. Her slim thighs stretched and flexed, the muscles trying to gain a vantage to relieve the pull from the ever rising beam which dragged her nailed wrists higher and higher, until her feet were pulled off the ground and she merely kicked in the air.

The cross beam was set in place and the soldiers that had lifted the poor girl into place descended. Arana now hung from her nailed wrists, her whole body weight born by the spikes which secured her to the wood. While she struggled, the pain was almost too much for her, and her struggles subsided as they simply jerked the spikes against the torn nerves of her wrists and caused even more agony. She began to go limp, as the pain overcame her.

To help her a little, two soldiers grabbed her ankles and lifted her legs. She hardly struggled now and it was easy for them to bend her legs to spread apart at the knees and cross her feet, one over the other. A third spike was brought and placed at the top of the foot, just below the ankle. The heavy hammer was raised again and slammed down on the spike, driving it through her top foot and through until it penetrated the bottom one. Arana screamed yet again, this new agony filling the bottom half of her body, and as the hammer struck again and again, driving the nail through her delicate bones and mangling equally delicate nerves, she lost consciousness.

A bucket of water was brought and dumped over Arana's head. The water revived her, as well as making her naked flesh glisten in the bright afternoon sun. She cried out as if waking from a bad dream and began a weak sort of writhing on the cross.

The nailing of the victim complete, the crowd came closer. Guards prevented them from touching the exposed victim, but for those lucky enough to push their way to the front, the woman's exposed body could be seen in great detail. Her naked breasts bounced slightly from her struggles, and small nipples stood out clearly. Her feet were nailed in such a way that her knees spread to expose her female parts for all to see. Both men and women crowded around now, observing both her body and her movements as she writhed.

The crowd milled, some shocked and unable to come close, but most pushing for their turn to observe the torture of the young woman up close. Those that observed for too long were pushed aside by those that grew tired of waiting.

Arana became agonizingly aware of this process. She was nailed out on display, like an object of curiosity. Her agony and paroxysms of pain were now the public entertainment of the day. Unable to even brush her long hair out of her eyes, she had no choice but to endure every indignity.

A soldier reached up and spread the lips between her legs. A small bit of white fluid trickled out and down her inner thigh. This raised a murmur of appreciation from those closest who surged forward. Arana began to cry as much from the horror of her situation as from the pain.

She was meat. A piece of meat on display, without even the dignity of an animal held in a cage for all to observe. It wasn't just her naked body on display, it was her pain. Her writhing brought appreciative cheers from the crowd.

Arana tried to lift herself on her nailed feet. The pain shot through her ankles and legs as sharply broken bones moved and cut into fresh nerves. She sagged back down quickly, but the weight of her body jerking on her wrists made her scream in agony, to the delight of the crowd. She tried again, stealing herself for the pain and moving higher this time until she was able to lock her knees. In this way she was able to close her legs and obtain a tiny bit of privacy; but it didn't last long. Her strength gave out and she sank back down, once again writhing and crying out in agony as her weight pulled on her wrists.

Flies were gathering around her face, crawling across her lips and eyes. She wanted desperately to brush them away, but could not. They itched, they tickled, they irritated on her face and later between her legs.... but she could do nothing. She endured because she had no choice.

She cried out for mercy. She cried out to be killed. The crowd approved of her cries, but did not want her gone so quickly.

Without realizing it, Arana lost bladder control and a gushing stream of urine descended, catching one of the soldiers off guard. This caused the crowd to roar in amusement. The soldier, angry at being pissed on took a whip and sliced the leather across Arana's breasts leaving a trickling red line.

The amusement proceeded for some time until the sun began to go down. The crowds began to dissipate, the people returning home to tell neighbors of the show and settle in for their evening meal. Arana, of course, would have no meal, for she was to slowly die of starvation, dehydration and exposure, while nailed to a wooden cross, arms wide, legs bent and exposed, suffering for all who wished to see.

Her neighbor wished to see. The girl she had spent many happy days with, a dear friend and confidant, arrived to see the spectacle. She stood at the foot of the cross, inches from where the nail penetrated Arana's feet, observing the hole and trickling blood. Arana looked down and felt a sense of hopelessness and humiliation flood across her as she saw her friend examining her body. She cried out for the mercy of death, but her friend simply observed her more closely, taking the opportunity to walk around the cross and observe Arana's naked buttocks, back, arms, and her ribs as they stood out from under the stretched flesh of her elongated body.

The soldiers had become lax as the day went on, and the friend reached out and touched Arana's leg, and then slid her hand up the inside of her thighs. Reaching her female softness, her friend fondled Arana for a while, and then with a sigh turned her back on the victim and left.

Arana's parents came late in the evening. Still completely conscious, Arana was able to discern her mother's form as it climbed the low hill to where she hung. Her parents simply stood and observed for a while, not showing pity or concern, but simply looking at the naked form of their daughter stretched taught and hanging by nails, suffering.

As her parents left, pain erupted in Arana's lower abdomen and she cried out as she lost bowel control. Her parents turned just in time to see Arana release a huge and continual stream of diarrhea which splashed the wooden cross and her legs before splattering on the ground below her. The stench rose and filled Arana's nose, and she screamed in frustration at her complete inability to control even her most basic dignity.

The night was a long one. The condemned looked skyward frequently, watching the stars move across the sky more slowly than could be imagined. She knew death would come, and she prayed for it, quietly, loudly, screaming it out. Yet when the sunrise finally arrived she was frustratingly, horribly alive.

"Please..." she begged in a hoarse voice to a soldier that leaned on the cross below her. He looked up and sighed... left for a while and returned with a spear. Her heart leaped for a moment, thinking that he was going to kill her. Then she saw the sponge on the end as he lifted it to her face. It smelled of wine.

It was a taunt, she knew. The wine would be mixed with vinegar, and was designed to increase her sense of thirst. And yet... it was liquid... she needed it so badly, her body would not let her turn away. She let the sponge be placed immediately next to her lips and slowly she opened her mouth and sucked. The foul taste of the vinegar immediately shriveled her tongue and lips and she turned her head away, more desperately thirsty than ever before.

There was activity below her. Her sense of dignity was almost completely gone, she mostly was just wishing for death as quickly as possible. The activity below turned out to be a wooden spike being shoved through a hole in the stipes, a sedile designed to extend her life in a painful manner. The spike slid through the wood and then up toward her body... and pressed up between her legs. It penetrated. It dug in. It lifted her up. She could feel her weight slowly easing off her wrists but she also found the wooden spike was tearing her insides as it penetrated deep. She tried once again to lift herself on her feet, failed, and fell down on the spike.

She was now impaled by a monster, sharp, wooden phallus. This further humiliation was not only painful, but would prolong her agony and postpone her death. As the day went on, it provided much amusement for the crowd that once again gathered below her. A new torture, livening and making the whole even more fun for everyone but Arana. Once again, her suffering was taking new shapes and providing interesting new experiences for those who observed her so closely.

Consciousness began to leave the crucified girl. She found her awareness of time was slipping and that the faces of those that mocked her in the crowd changed without her seeing people come and go. The pain never left, in fact, parts of her were hurting that hadn't hurt at first. From her feet, the pain extended up her legs to her groin, throughout her abdomen, her chest and back cramps, arms on fire from nerv
e damage and finally her head throbbed with pressure as if it would explode.

As she slipped into a final unconsciousness, she saw one of the soldiers looking up at her naked body and masturbating. As he moaned and jerked, and finally spurted over her feet and lower legs, she slipped into darkness and did not return.

She was dead within an hour. She did not feel and was unaware of her last humiliation as her body hung and slowly rotted on the cross for two weeks after that.