"I sentence you both to be nailed to a cross, there to hang until you are dead and for five days thereafter."
With a loud bang the judge lowered his gavel, declaring the sentence on the two lovers who had dared challenge the government. The delivery of the sentence was followed by an immediate crush of reporters and photographers, trying to get images of the poor girl and boy as they stood in shock at the defense table. This was the first time the new capital sentencing rules had been used, allowing a slow, torturous public death for enemies of the state.
Kyle and Amy were the youngest culprits to be caught in the recent purge of undesirables - those who questioned the state's position on environmental, social and political regulation. They had run an underground web site posting seditious information for the last two years, urging dissent and disobedience against the government's mandatory birth control.
Amy started to cry, sobbing openly as a pair of dark blue uniformed guards fastened her wrists behind her back. Her sobs were interrupted by a grunt as her elbows were roughly forced behind her and strapped together -- the first of a series of humiliations she would suffer. Kyle stood silently as his arms were bound behind him, determined to present a dignified face in the fatal situation. With cameras clicking and shouts from the gallery, the condemned were lead from the courtroom.
"This is Anna Markowski, reporting for SMNCB here at the Central Division Federal Penitentiary, where the couple convicted of sedition just a month ago will be publicly put to death by crucifixion in just a few moments. As promised, we will cover the event live, as it happens." Anna stood in front of the camera, angled so that the hill could be seen clearly behind her. There were a number of prison guards waiting along with police that kept the milling and expectant crowd under control. The pretty reporter continued to babble about the coming torture and execution as if it were a sports event until the crowd suddenly became silent and then began to cheer.
Off to the side of the hill was the gray stone outer wall of the prison. Running about 10 feet high and topped with multiple strands of razor wire, it presented an ominous and foreboding image. A small metal door set into the wall had opened, which was what caused the crowd to quiet, followed by the emergence of several guards, which caused the crowd to cheer.
Moments later the condemned girl emerged. She was smaller than the guards, a petite 5'2" with long brown hair which fluttered about her shoulders in the breeze. She was remarkably pretty, with an oval lightly freckled face and girl-next-door looks; the orange jumpsuit she wore only hinted at a shapely body with thin legs and waist, as well as substantial breasts. Her wrists were shackled to a waist strap and her feet were bare. Two women guards held her upper arms and guided her out of the prison toward the hill.
As Amy climbed the hill Kyle emerged from the door in the prison wall. Dressed and led in the same manner, the handsome young man stood tall but was obviously the worse for wear from his time in prison. He sported several bruises and cuts on his face. He shuffled in a slow, reluctant way toward the hill.
"The young couple are being lead up the hill to their place of execution. Let's take a closer look at this, shall we?" The reporter handed off to some in studio anchors and zoom cameras showed the execution site from above. The girl had just arrived and was standing surrounded by about 20 guards, some of which had begun preparing her. The camera zoomed in as the beautiful girl was released from her shackles. It carefully covered her entire body as the orange jumpsuit was unzipped and pulled from her shoulders, revealing perfectly formed breasts hovering above a flat stomach.
Kyle trudged up the hill, the guards holding his arms tightly and guiding him firmly. They wanted no trouble and were ready to beat him into submission, as they had done several times in the last week. He no longer had much fight left in him and simply climbed to the top where the wide clearing held a cluster of guards. It was cold outside, a brisk breeze making him shake a little. The guards didn't care. His comfort was the last of their interests right then. They were in the process of torturing him and Amy to death.
The cluster of guards in front of him broke up as he arrived and saw Amy standing in the center of their circle. She was naked now. He gasped a little as he saw her perfect body. Six months ago he fucked that body every night, and he recalled the straining, sweating, grasping climaxes they had shared. His cock grew erect at the thought and sight of her standing naked before him once again, her arms raised and trying to cover her breasts either from failed modesty or because of the cold.
He was unshackled. As soon as he was free he lowered one shoulder and butted a guard out of his way as he charged toward his girl. He got about 10 feet when a baton struck his shin and broke it. With a scream he fell and rolled on the ground. A dozen rough hands grabbed him on the ground and stripped the orange prison outfit from him. He wore nothing underneath and seconds later he was naked, laying on the ground in a fetal position, crying. He heard Amy calling his name from far away.
"Oh, it looks like the male is down and out! What happened there, Anna?" The news anchor passed the coverage back to the on scene reporter.
"Well, Jim, it appears that the male condemned tried to get loose and was subdued. His leg appears to be broken. This is going to put a kink into things because with a broken leg he isn't going to be able to force himself up on the cross and will most likely suffocate much sooner. Oh, wait, here they go! They are going to actually begin the nailing! Let's take a look from our close up cameras!"
The news coverage view switched to a closer view of Kyle being dragged over to a rough wooden cross which lay on the ground nearby. Five prison guards held him down firmly, as he thrashed around both in pain from his broken bone and from panic. A sixth guard, this one wearing solid black, approached with a device that looked like a large, odd gun in his hand.
The pretty reporter's face appeared in a small box in the corner of the TV coverage screen as she narrated the events.
"That's the executioner there, wearing all black. He carries a sort of industrial nail gun, modified to take the larger spikes required for this procedure. You see how he is placing it in a very specific place; the nail must go through the base of the hand, where the palm turns into the wrist, and at a specific angle. This will prevent the condemned man from pulling his hands free. It also severs a set of nerves and crushes the wrist bones, causing a level of agony--- oh, there it is! You saw the slight jerk of the gun and bit of smoke! That was the gun going off!"
Kyle's body had jerked suddenly when the nail had penetrated his wrist, and his screaming had become more agonized and urgent. The camera zoomed into his face for a moment, and then slid down to the muscles of his arm as they strained and struggled, and then finally to the gray metal nail head protruding from his wrist.
Anna continued narrating, and the camera switched to a view where Amy was being shoved down onto her own cross. "There goes the female condemned! She is in better shape than the male, and will thus probably last longer on the cross. There she is being held in place by the guards... they don't appear to be taking much care, you see that one knee thrust into her hips and groin. Oww... that has got to hurt... and here comes the executioner. Note the angle of the gun as he places it to the wrist... and BAM, yes, there it is. You can see the pain suddenly shudder the victim's body!"
The camera zoomed in to show the flesh and bone of Amy's wrist and hand struggling against the nail that now held her right arm to the cross. Her creaming could be heard through the reporter's microphone, even though she was at least 50 feet away.
"Yes, the other arm is now nailed as well. Note the fairly loose angle at which her arms are stretched out, this is so her body will hang down with her arms at a moderately steep angle.... let's go back to the male now. Kyle is fasted to his cross as well, though his ankles have yet-- there! The legs are being spread apart, exposing his genitals. This is part of the humiliation aspect of this form of execution. It must be horrible to be nailed with your arms and legs spread, your entire body exposed for all to see. And yes, we do see his genitals there. Wait... Oh...."
Anna's face took on a look of surprise as she observed her monitor and the view of Kyle as his legs were forced apart in preparation for nailing to the cross. There, clear as day, was Kyle's huge erection. Anna flushed red, her first unprofessional reaction to any of the proceedings. She confused for a moment, stuttering slightly, and then picked up her reporting.
"Yes. Well, Jim, maybe you can ask our medical experts why the male appears to be aroused at this point. In any case, his ankles are being forced to each side of the cross. Wow! The executioner has already nailed his left ankle to the side and is now moving... yes. You see the body jerk and writhe as the final nail goes in. I must say, I didn't expect to see that particular spectacle."
The camera view switched back to where Amy was being nailed. Both her wrists were fastened to the wood crossbeam, and her legs had been separated. The camera zoomed in to a view of her inner thighs, glistening in wetness, presumable from sweat (though it was still a rather cold day).
A guard bent Amy's left leg to about a 45 degree angle and then held her left foot against the side of the cross. The executioner held the nail gun against the side of her ankle, and pulled the trigger. A slight puff of smoke and recoil from the device announced that the nail had sliced through flesh, muscle and bone, and into the cross beneath. It took a half second for the pain reaction to set in, after which Amy suddenly screamed and arched her back, thrusting her hips into the air. This lasted only a moment, and her body slammed back down against the wooden instrument of execution below her.
The reported was beginning to show a bit of wear from the graphic horror of the execution. Her face was white and covered with a sheen of sweat that makeup didn't hide. She kept on narrating the proceedings like the professional she was.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this phase of the process is nearly complete. Kyle has been fixed to his cross and Amy is about to have her right ankle nailed to the cross. I should point out here that these nails are quite large, triple the size of a standard roofing nail. They are sharp, but when they go in they will shred any muscle, tendons and bone that stand in their way. As you can see from the writhing of the condemned, it is quite a painful process. There goes the last nail into Amy's right ankle. Almost a relief, I guess, for those around her."
Guards were finally stepping back from the two crosses, leaving Kyle and Amy laying flat on their backs, looking up at a news helicopter flying above. The coverage switched to the aerial view. From that height, the entire hill could be seen, with a set of grandstands filled with people to the side, and 30 or more guards surrounding the clearing which now held the two crosses with two bodies nailed and relatively unmoving.
The crane slowly, ever so slowly, tightened the cable and then began to raise the end of the cross into the air. Amy's body slowly came into view more and more clearly as she was raised higher; her flat stomach was collapsing and expanding in concert with the heaving of her chest and breasts. As she climbed higher into the air, her breasts began to slide down her chest slightly, showing a bit of jiggling motion. The crane continued to raise her head higher into the air.
As she passed the 45 degree angle, Amy's body began a slide down the cross. The camera zoomed in, showing the fine, smooth flesh as it slid against the rough wood of the upright, splinters raking small furrows and leaving little blood trails.
The reporter, Anna, continued her narration of the scene.
Amy's chest was heaving, her stomach contracting in screams as her weight shifted and she hung from her wrists for the first time. She was instinctively trying to struggle, but it was impossible. The base of the cross was guided into a tight fitting hole that had been dug in the ground and slid down. Finally, the crane had pulled the cross completely upright and stopped, throwing Amy's body forward slightly, away from the cross, jerking it against the nails holding it to the wood. The camera zoomed into Amy's beautiful face, now twisted in agony.
The guards moved in and quickly poured a mixture of quick drying concrete into the hole. Ten minutes later the cable was released and the cross and Amy were free standing.
The crane moved over to Kyle and the process was repeated. Their was only one difference. As the cross ascended, the reporter saw something had been added.
"My audience will note that an odd protrusion has been added to the male victim's cross. It consists of a simple spike sticking out from the upright and up between Kyle's legs. This is called a sedile, and it must have been added because of Kyle's broken leg, which would make his suffering relatively short lived. The sedile will provide some support for his body, though not... oh..... look...."
Anna was at a loss for words as Kyle's cross reached the upright position and his body slid down, coming in contact with the sharpened sedile. The spike rammed upward into the male's genitals, piercing them. Blood flowed down the sedile and trickled slowly toward the ground.
"My god... I don't think we have seen any real blood in this whole.... yet.... oh..."
Kyle was obviously writhing and struggling in pain, trying to compensate for the tremendous agony in his wrists and shoulders, and the tearing pain in his groin. He managed to shove his body out, away from the cross, and the sedile slid back, raking a furrow between his legs. With no strength left, Kyle gave up and sank down and the spike sunk deeply into his anus. A camera zoomed in, showing the widening spike spreading the anus as Kyle's body sank down. Blood continued to poor down from his entire groin area and began to flood down from his distended rectum as the sedile penetrated deeply.
The reporter was silent, and left the screen. The sight of the torture of these two beautiful young people had overwhelmed her and she attempted to recover off screen.
In the meantime, cameras showed a panorama of the final scene. The hill was now bare except for two crosses with two bodies hanging from them, silhouetted against the sky. There was some movement as Kyle and Amy breathed, moaned, cried out, struggled, sank down, and began the process again; but the movement was limited. There is little movement allowed on the cross. At one point Amy thrust her body out, away from the wood frame behind her, arching her back, trying to find comfort that was not to be found. The sight was obscene, for her spread legs and thrust hips clearly showed her pubic mound and genitals before she sank back. Her head hung down, hair falling against her shoulders and face.
Kyle continued to bleed. Cameras zoomed in and showed every aspect of his agony, from his twisted face to his contorted body muscles. The strain in his legs and arms was examined, the small trickles of blood from the wounds in his wrists were explored. The clenching of his ravaged sphincter against the violating sedile could be clearly seen. His broken leg prevented him from raising himself up, and he simply lay impaled.
The two victims had been crucified facing each other, so that they could observe each other's pain. This was considered part of their punishment, to see their loved one suffer and to understand and experience the same pain they felt.
TV coverage continued, showing cross sections of anatomy, which nerves had been severed, which bones broken. The diaphragm was explored, showing how breathing became more difficult, and Amy's stomach, chest and breasts were shown next to a diagram of the internal muscles, illustrating how her body was struggling.
The camera closed in to Amy's hands for a while, showing the claw like positioning of the fingers, reflecting the destroyed nerves in the wrists. Kyle's erection returned, larger than ever, harder than ever, and medical analysts speculated and proposed that this was due to the sedile pressing on the veins inside, preventing blood from leaving; others said it was because the prostate was being stimulated and predicted an eventual ejaculation. One expert even claimed it was because Kyle was aroused by the sight of Amy suffering before him.
Kyle died only two hours after being nailed to the cross. The job had been botched. The combination of the broken bone in his leg, and the blood loss from the sedile had caused massive shock. All attention refocused on Amy and her continuing struggles toward a death that escaped her, hour after hour.
Amy saw Kyle hanging about 15 feet away from her. He wasn't moving any more. The agony she experienced was not getting any better, it was spreading. She didn't understand why he wasn't moving, the agony commanded her body to keep struggling, even though it simply traded one type of searing pain for another. She pulled herself up, pulling on the nails that now seemed part of her body, trying to push with her legs as best she could, just to give some relief to her shoulders, arms and chest. A cameraman circled her as she did this, focusing the camera on her legs as she pushed and tensed the muscles.
She cried, but had no more tears. She sobbed, but had no breath. She called for mercy, but there was none. She sank down, exhausted, and the shattering agony in her ankles and legs was replaced by shattering agony in her wrists and back. She made noise, but it wasn't a scream any more, it was more of a rasping whimper. The cameraman found the spot between her legs interesting for a while and zoomed in on her shaking vaginal lips, then slowly panned the camera up her stomach to her breasts, partly covered by her hair which stuck to the sweaty flesh.
The sweat was from pain, not from heat. Evening had come on and the air was getting cold. Amy continued to live in pain, unable to move, observed in her agony by hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of people.
With a promise to return to live coverage if there were any developments in Amy's execution, the reporters signed off for the evening and returned to prime time programs. Amy didn't know it of course, the cameras were still positioned around her as she hung naked and exposed. Time proceeded slowly, minute by minute, the sun slowly descending on the horizon.
Tiny movements caused whole new worlds and heights of pain. Amy tugged, trying to get her wrist to slide forward with the idea that she might be able to pull off, out of the heavy nails. The pain was so bad it almost knocked her unconscious. She could feel the scraping texture of the nail against wrist bone. Losing strength, she sagged down on the cross, which made her legs spread a little further apart.
She was aware of the humiliation of her nakedness. Her genitalia were exposed, her breasts bobbing in plain view. There was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
Eventually dark came and she wondered if she would sleep. She was so, so tired. And thirsty. She had never been this thirsty, and she knew she must not drink for it would prolong her agony, and she realized she really did want to die. It was the only way out. Amy wanted to escape from the horrific pain at any cost. And then... someone raised something to her face.
She turned away at first, but then it was pushed against her face. It was wet. She turned her head to look at it between the ragged strands of her hair. A sponge, dripping. Her thirst overcame her and she reached her head out and sucked. The cool water felt so good, so lovely, wetting her lips, going down her raw throat, it was life saving....
Life prolonging. Agony prolonging. She had to die, quickly, for every moment with her arms spread out and the weight of her body driving the nails into her wrist bones, separating them, tearing flesh, was agony she had to escape. Flashes distracted her. Photographers, capturing her pain and humiliation. She stared at them sullenly, imagining that the image of her dirty, naked, agonized nudity would be preserved forever. It didn't matter. She wasn't going to be around...
"Ladies and Gentlemen, please watch your steps going up the hill. There is loose gravel and we don't want any accidents!" The prison guard who was serving as tour guide led the group of 15 or so men and women up the hill to the top where the two crosses were silhouetted against the sunrise.
"As you know," said the guide to his small ensemble of dignitaries, "we lost the male victim early on. His body is there, and will remain there for several days. We are in the open so it won't cause too much smell at first, though I expect he will stink a bit by the time we bring him down. Now, over here we have the female..."
The group walked over to Amy and her cross. She was breathing in a rasping, strained manner. It was a lovely sight, her perfect body stretched out and exposed, breasts hanging free, rising and falling. Her hair hung down on either side of her head as it hung limply. Her knees were bent and spread slightly, and several of the men approached to have a better look.
"There is no blood. Or hardly any. Are you sure she will die from this?" One of the men was looking carefully at Amy's outstretched arms and claw-like hands. The metallic head of the nails were clearly visible protruding slightly from her wrists.
"Oh yes, there isn't supposed to be much bleeding. Death occurs from exposure, shock, dehydration, and suffocation. As strength is lost, the pressure from the body hanging from the arms like that, makes it very difficult to exhale. So... oh, there she goes!! Watch this!!" The guard excitedly observed Amy as she moved, struggled, the muscles in her bare legs straining to lift her body. Her arms tensed, and head raised up until she looked into the sky, her pretty young face visible clearly.
"Oh...." cried one of the touring women as the crowd watched as Amy struggled to raise herself up. The agony was clearly visible in her face and she began panting faster and grunting in pain as her body twisted and turned until it was higher on the cross. She tried to lock her knees but couldn't, gasped for several long, deep breaths, and then fell back down. The jolt as she reach the bottom and sagged against her stretched and torn arms caused her to let out a short scream.
"And there you are my friends, the crucifixion dance. As I was saying, breathing is difficult in the hanging position as strength leaves the body. The victim will inevitably begin to need to breath and thus writhes to find a position which will allow her to take a breath and exhale it. This continues on until exposure and shock sap most or all the stamina from the body, at which point the victim will suffocate."
"May I touch her?" Ask one of the women in the group, a tall, soft looking woman who had been staring at Amy's distended and stretched body constantly since they arrived.
"Yes, you can, though be sure to wash your hands afterwards." The guard seemed pleased to be able to approve this unusual request.
The tall woman took a few steps over to Amy, and reached up and placed her hand, fingers spread, on Amy's stomach. She left it there, and then slowly slid it around to the side, and then behind to the buttocks where she cupped Amy's right ass cheek, pulling it slightly. She then ran her hand down Amy's thigh as if feeling the velvet of a fine material.
"I can almost feel her pain. It is amazing," the woman said quietly, almost reverently.
At that moment, liquid came streaming out from between Amy's legs. Urine sprayed out and splattered on the ground below. The woman stepped back to avoid getting wet. The urine flow subsided and the liquid trickled down the inside of the left thigh before finally stopping. Amy had not moved during this time. She seemed unaware of her loss of bladder control.
The group spent some additional time examining the construction of the cross and observing the various signs of Amy's pain. She was given water again with a sponge, and drank once again, though not much.
"She is so ... beautiful," said the woman that had felt Amy's body. "Was she always this beautiful, I wonder, or is it the beauty of her agony, of her execution?"
None of the others said anything, and they all left, soon after. Amy remained hanging from the cross, very little changing in her world of pain.
Network coverage of Amy's agonizing end resumed at 6 PM. Anna Markowski was back on the scene, walking up the hill as a steadycam followed her.
"As you can see, there stands are still filled with people observing the ongoing torture of this young woman, convicted of being an enemy of the state. The government and the people all hope that her suffering will deter others from taking such anti-social actions."
The reporter stopped in front of Kyle's body. "The smell from the first of the two convicts to die is getting quite pungent. He has been dead for a day now, and flies are crawling over his body and into body cavities."
The camera panned over Kyle's lifeless form, arms still spread wide, hanging forward slightly. The darkened mangled mess that was caused by the cornu/sedile was covered by flies and the blood was crusting. The camera moved quickly and then panned to Amy's still struggling naked form.
Anna Markowski walked over to Amy. A step stool had been positioned next to the cross. "Let's try to get a word with the suffering victim, and see if she can respond to any questions."
Anna stepped up two steps, which put her almost even with Amy. The contrast between the two women was striking; Anna was dressed nicely, with smooth, shiny hair, subtle but effective makeup, and a serene but concerned look on her face. Next to her hung the naked body of Amy, arms and legs spread for all to see, flesh glistening with sweat, hair a dirty matted mess and her face a mask of pain. And yet, Amy's natural beauty came through, her shapely form obvious to all, her young face twisted in pain but still more beautiful than the reporter's artificially made up face.
"Amy, I am Anna, and I am covering your execution for the public. I was wondering if you could speak with us, perhaps offer last words?" The reporter spoke kindly, as if she were a friend of the victim, and then moved the microphone she held out to Amy, waiting for an answer.
For a moment, the audience heard nothing but the rasping of air going in and out of Amy's open mouth, and saw nothing but her breasts rise and fall. Then her head raised slightly and she turned it enough to look at Anna's face. Her croaking voice came out and could be heard world wide.
"Kill me. Please. End this."
Anna looked sympathetic. "I understand your desire. I will speak with the guards as soon as I can and see what I can do. Can you tell me what you feel about your sentence? Was it fair?"
Amy hung her head again, her hair covering most of her face. Anna reached out and swept it back so the audience could see her face clearly.
"I did.... nothing... I can't breathe... " Amy's croak was broken by long silences and labored breathing. "The pain... please let me die..."
"What hurts the most, Amy? Tell us. We need to know."
"Arms... shoulders.... hands are gone now, can't feel them... water, I need water, please..." Amy began to cry without tears.
The reporter stepped down and returned with a sponge of water, placing it in front of Amy. The victim moved her head down slightly and sucked on the water. When it was gone, she moaned and arched her back outward and away from the wooden cross. She repeated this movement every few minutes, trying to get some comfort that would never come. It delighted the audience in the bleachers, for it thrust her breasts and stomach out, and spread her legs apart, exposing her nakedness delightfully.
"Amy, did you see that Kyle is gone? Your boyfriend is dead. What are your thoughts?"
"Not... fair... let me die. Break my legs. Please."
Anna looked a little surprised. "Amy, tell us. Do you realize you are naked in front of millions of watchers, right now, on television? What is that like?"
Amy didn't move or respond for a moment, and then finally slumped a half inch further down, and then let out a moaning cry at some new torment that struck her. Her head jerked back and she cried out in a loud voice, "fffuuuuuuuccckkkk yyouuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!!!"
A second later, Amy's bowels let loose with a loud farting, splattering liquid diarrhea. It spurt over the base of the cross and covered the side of Anna Markowski's skirt. The reporter skipped down from the step ladder like she had been burned. Disgusted and angry, she waved the hand with her microphone in front of her face. "Pheeewww.... that stinks. Damn, that is disgusting. Do you think she did that on purpose?"
Whatever pleasantness had come from observing the victim's pubic area close up with news cameras had greatly diminished. It was now covered with shit, making it almost unrecognizable.
The next morning the prison doctor spend some time checking on the condemned woman. Much of the life had gone from her. It had been two days since she had been nailed to the cross, and she was severely dehydrated, as well as suffering from exposure and shock from the pain. He ordered more water for the poor woman, though he knew it would only extend her life a few hours.
As the sun rose, large black birds began to gather. They had already been picking on Kyle's lifeless form, but now they were perched on Amy's wooden cross. She wasn't dead, but it didn't seem to matter. The crows began to pick at her flesh with their sharp beaks.
Amy grunted at the first of the birds as they began to tear at her fingers, ripping tiny bits of flesh away. It made little difference.
An hour later, the birds were picking at her scalp, and blood flowed in a slow trickle down Amy's neck. The reporter had stopped doing live coverage ever since being covered in Amy's shit, but the cameras were still there, focusing on the details of her public humiliation. Now they focused on the birds pecking at the torn flesh around her wrist and ankle wounds, and the hair that was being torn slowly from her head.
The prison doctor returned, and checked Amy's vitals. She was alive, but just barely. The doctor determined she was unconscious, and not likely to regain anything more than a vague delirious state of awareness.
With cameras focused tightly on the scene, a guard came over with a baseball bat. He swung back and then forward with all his strength, letting the bat hit Amy's left shin. The cameras showed the shin buckle and bend at an unnatural angle. Amy's body jerked slightly and trembled, but then settled down further on the cross.
The procedure was repeated on the right leg, and Amy reacted in the same manner.
Half an hour later, the doctor pronounced Amy dead.
The birds had started their feast, and would continue it for the next two days, all with network cameras showing their progress.