Sunday, September 29, 2013

Crucified Female

The prelate's young wife sat with her legs on either side of her husband's hips, rocking back and forth. The moonlight showed the tight curves of her naked body as she moved forward, then back, pushing her hips down and forward, back and out. The prelate's hands caressed her young flesh, moving from her stomach to her sides, and then up to her soft breasts as she breathed heavily from arousal.

Others had told him Julia was too young to be a good wife, but he had loved her and desired her, and she was turning out to be the perfect lover. The feeling deep inside his groin was becoming more intense as her soft, textured flesh stroked his penis deep within her. His hips moved with her, encouraging her, as she encouraged him, until in a gasping paroxysm of pleasure, he ejaculated inside her belly.

Her body shone with sweat as she opened her eyes, smiled, and slowly lowered herself onto his chest. He made her happy, and it was her joy to know she had pleased him. She lay on him, feeling his breathing, as he slowly became soft and slid out of her.

At length Julia said softly, "My husband, I have not been able to forget what you showed me on the hill of death a few weeks ago."

He kissed the top of her head, his fingers sliding over her smooth skin.

"And what do you think, now?" he said to her.

"I want to do it again. If you approve, only if you approve. It ... aroused me."

He lay silent, stroking her naked back, and then finally spoke. "It would make my happy to share this with you again, if you please."

She rose to her elbows, long hair drifting down over his chest as she looked in his eyes with disguised eagerness. "Yes, I would like it. Is there someone on the hill tonight?"

The prelate laughed at her eagerness. "Yes, there is someone on the hill. A woman though. Tonight might not be the best night."

Julia's face was serious and thoughtful for a moment before she spoke. "Why not? I would like to see a woman. I've never touched a woman before. Can we go?"

She crawled off her husband and stood looking in the direction of the execution hill. Her husband rose and began to dress. "Yes, of course. By all means. She was hung just this afternoon and will still be conscious. Get dressed."

The two of them dressed, and then left by the private garden door to the small footpath that led to the edge of the city. They glided silently, the tall veteran warrior and his slender, smaller wife behind him a half a step. They climbed the hill, the torches of the guards visible at the top. As they neared the crest, Julia could see the cross facing the city, and the figure of a young woman hanging from it, lit by the orange firelight.

The woman retained much of her beauty in spite of having been whipped and nailed to wooden beams. Her body was shapely, slender but with good curves. Her breasts hung forward, heavy and dangling as the woman's body hung slightly away from the cross behind her. Nails had been expertly driven through her feet at an angle so as to force the condemned's legs apart. The dark thatch between her legs was exposed clearly along with the folds of pink flesh of her genitalia. Her arms extended up and slightly behind her to where the spikes were driven through her wrists. Fingers curled into the shape of claws, stiff and unmoving above the spikes.

Hair obscured much of the face, dark brown and scraggly now, but what Julia could see revealed a very pretty girl of about 18, face dirty with tears and dust, now distorted with a permanent visage of agony. Julia gasped slightly at the unexpected sight of such a lovely young girl crucified and dying before her.

"What has she done?"

The prelate responded as they gazed at the condemned. "She is a prostitute from the north that came to the city, and stole from several of her customers."

The prelate turned to the guards and commanded them to withdraw. Familiar with his practices, the centurion gathered the men and they descended the hill to prevent any intruders from coming close.

Julia simply stood observing the crucified woman for a while. She observed the sagging agony, the small shifting movements of a body in pain trying to find relief where there was none. Small grunts came from the the woman as she labored to draw each breath. Her skin shone with sweat from the heat and pain, and the wetness created very slight reflections that emphasized the curves of her body. A trickling of blood smeared each hand where the nails had penetrated, as well as the feet.

Finally, Julia stepped forward and examined the woman's legs spread before her. She reached up and ran one hand along the inner thigh, from the knee to where the leg joined the body in a soft curve. The touch aroused the condemned woman and she grunted, and then cried out. Her body shook and writhed, shifting in place as if trying to avoid the touch, though there was nothing she could do to avoid it. Spewing forth sounds that Julia did not understand, the crucified woman cried out in a foreign language. Words scrambled and panicked, pleading, angry, sobbing.

"She comes from Gallia," the prelate said as he joined his wife close to the cross. "She speaks latin, but has probably forgotten it in her agony."

With a slow, gentle movement Julia continued stroking the naked flesh of the woman, finding the folds of her genitals and massaging them.

"I've never touched another woman." Julia was intent, curious, focused. She reached her other hand up and used both to stretch and spread the folds of soft skin apart, exposing the condemned's fleshy tunnel.

"Many men have been inside her," the prelate commented, reaching out and using a thumb and forefinger to spread her lips and expose the small nub of flesh which was the center of sexual pleasure.

"Touch her," he said.

Julia slid one finger inside the soft flesh, and when it penetrated all the way used her thumb to press against the woman's clitoris. She was rewarded by immediate grunts and moans from above and a stream of uninterpretable words. Then the legs tensed, straining and writhing back and forth, causing cries of pain above, and yet they still strained until the whore's body began to lift up removing Julia's tormenting hand from the crucified's vagina. She raised herself to an almost standing position, arms straight out to either side, breathing in deep gulps of air, her stomach palpitating as she gasped.

As she stood on the nails driven through the bones of her feet, she screamed out in agony, pain unbelievable, and yet continued to push down, keeping her body up, gasping for air between sobs. Finally the pain was too much or she reached exhaustion and slipped quickly back down, her knees spreading outward as they bent.

Julia's hand was ready and as the whore descended the cross two fingers slid up inside her and begin wiggling around. Julia found the spots that gave her the most pleasure when she made love to her husband, and began a rhythmic stroking.

At first, it seemed to have no effect. Julia simply continued stroking, sliding fingers in and out, massaging as she did to herself when she was alone. She knew what made her feel good and she did the same to this woman. Soon the gasps of pain and slight shivers of the nude body before her changed slightly. Pleasure was creeping in, penetrating the agonized existence of the condemned.

Quickening her pace, Julia dug deeper, pretending her fingers were a penis, penetrating and sliding over the woman's clitoris. The girl's hips began a very slight movement, in sync with Julia's ministrations. The grunts of pain matched the same rhythm.

Julia looked up at the woman's face, hanging down from the cross above. Sweat tricked down over the heavy breasts that wobbled slightly, and above that the beautiful tear streaked face of the young woman looked down at her, eyes filled with horror as she saw Julia looking back up at her. The absolute humiliation and despair of her body being masturbated and forced into arousal as she was slowly and publicly dying was more than the woman's mind could take. Her eyes took on a crazed look, the agony that rippled through her body mixed with the pleasure being forced on her, intensifying it, and with a howl she lifted her head to the sky, thrust her hips out and reached a massive sexual climax.

The prelate stood behind his wife, wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. He had almost had an orgasm just watching his young woman torturing and pleasuring the condemned woman on the cross. He was hard, raging, pulsatingly hard. Julia withdrew her hand from inside the whore and sniffed. She then reached her fingers to her husband who took them in his mouth, tasting the juices of agony from the crucified girl.

"I have something to show you. We use it sometimes to enhance the torture of the execution." The prelate moved over to a pile of equipment left by the soldiers. He returned with an oddly shaped piece of curved wood about two feet long. It looked something like a very rough wooden horn, wide at the bottom and narrowing to a point as it curved up.

"This is a cornu. I had it made based on information I received from Rome."

Julia looked at it with amazement. She couldn't figure out what it was or how it was used. As Julia reached out and touched its blackened and smooth surface, the crucified woman moaned, grunted and screamed as she pushed herself up once again, knees straightening, arms pulling, every muscle tensed.  The prelate quickly went over to the cross and positioned the cornu with its widest point next to the cross upright. A protruding notch in the cornu slid into place inside a hole which had been drilled in the wood of the cross. Once in place, the cornu formed a curved spike that extended out from the wood beam and then up, pointing toward the shaking groin of the woman screaming above.

Once again, the agony overcame the woman and she sank down on the cross. This time, well before she descended all the way to where her arms stretched out and jerked her to a stop, the point of the cornu rammed home against her soft genital flesh. She screamed, raised herself up an inch or so, but the pain in her feet and legs was too much. She descended again, her hips moving against the new object of torment that sought to pierce and penetrate her body from below.

The cornu smashed against the condemned's soft flesh and then slid to the nearest opening-- her vagina. As the weight of the woman bore down on the pointed horror, it sank deep inside of her. A horrible twisted grimace came over the beautiful if dirty face as the point sunk home. The gradual increase in size of the cornu spread the flesh wider and wider as she sank down, until it was distended and white, stretched horrifically.

The crucified woman began sobbing. She breathed easier, as the weight of most of her body was now focused where she was impaled by the cornu. Julia remembered its length and knew the point must have dug all the way in and was pressing the woman's internal organs, causing terrible pain inside her stomach. She shuddered to herself, just as the crucified woman shuddered and tried to rise up off the impalement device.

"What is the purpose of this thing? Does it quicken her death?" Julia spoke in wonder to her husband.

"No, no. It is like a seat, a place her body can rest and will help her breathe. When she grows weaker, it will actually keep her alive longer, though the agony is greater, for it slowly impales and tears the flesh below, as you can see. It extends and increases the length and intensity of her pain."

"Oh...." Julia's heart was pounding.

The lean legs of the crucified woman were straining to lift again, to relieve the pressure of the spike which impaled her. With a cry she pressed upward, her tight flesh surrounding the cornu as if it were a penis, clinging to it as she rose. As the tip exited her womanhood, the whore thrust her hips out as if to avoid the cornu's penetration and sank down.

The attempt at relief didn't really help. Instead of penetrating her vagina, the cornu sank into another hole - the anus. Ramming home into this firm flesh, the unyielding cornu impaled the girl once again. Her screams and moans were panicked, her hips attempted to move but were held fast and unmoving by the spike that ascended deep into her bowels. With no strength left, the woman sank down, involuntarily letting the wide wooden horn spread her anus and sink deep within her. She sat on the spike, hips turned slightly out, exposing her sex even more fully than before.

Julia's excitement flushed her cheeks as she watched the whore on the cross. She could not imagine anything more horrible, more humiliating, more demeaning that to be stretched out like that, fully naked and exposed, in horrible agony for all to see, on display and forced to impale herself on the insidious device. It made her aroused, excited, and she reached out as if to touch and experience the agony of crucifixion herself. She leaned forward and placed her lips on the genital lips of the whore and began to suck. The whore was attempting to move but couldn't; the nails in her feet and spike in her bowels kept her still, available, exposed as Julia sucked and licked her clitoris, shoving her tongue inside the opening where the cornu had spread the flesh wide moments before.

Behind her, the prelate stood in a state of incredible arousal. Seeing his gorgeous young wife servicing the crucified woman like this, concentrating on giving pleasure during the pain, was all he could take. He pushed his robe aside and exposed his erect member, pressing up behind Julia as she sucked the flesh of the whore before her. He lifted Julia's dress and with a single easy thrust pushed his member deep inside his wife. She automatically spread her legs slightly, never stopping her oral attentions to the dying girl before her.

Thrusting hard against Julia, the prelate reached around her hips, holding her and placing one hand in front, pushing down to reach her clitoris, which he stimulated directly as he slid in and out of her from behind. Julia moaned and shifted her hips to accommodate her husband's entry. His thrusts were so hard they pushed her, so to keep her balance she placed both of her hands on the crucified girl's thighs, pushing them wide as she braced herself. The girl screamed as this caused her nailed feet to twist on the nails, but moments later she moaned as Julia's constant, expert sucking and licking brought her closer to climax once again.

As the crucified whore cried out in mixed agony and the pleasure of sexual orgasm, Julia felt her own climax sweep her body and she shuddered and moaned. The prelate had one hand on her breast, feeling her erect and hardened nipples as moments later he moaned and grunted as he ejaculated a huge load of semen deep inside his wife.

Having spent himself, the prelate pulled out of his young wife and sank to the ground in exhaustion. Julia sank down next to him, and they lay back next to the warming fire, his arms around her. They watched the crucified woman for a while longer as she squirmed and writhed on the cornu, finally managing to lift herself off one more time, only to descend with the spike impaling her deep inside her vagina once again. She slumped, exhausted, and did not move.

"Is she dead? Will she die soon?" Julia looked on curiously.

"No, no. With the cornu, I doubt if she will die for another two days, if the soldiers give her water."

"Could we come tomorrow night? I want to see her again."

The prelate frowned. "Perhaps. She won't be in good shape. She will live but will probably smell and not move much. We shall see."

He stood, lifting his wife to stand beside him, and they turned to head back to the palace. The prelate thought of how quickly his young wife had adapted to the palace and his own desires, and marveled. He felt the stirrings of another erection, and knew that he would enter her again that night in their chambers.

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Crucified Male, Again

The man's penis and testicles dangled directly in front of the woman's eyes.

The prelate's young wife stood with shock and amazement at what her husband was showing her. It was near midnight and the guards, led by the centurion, had been dispersed to positions further down the hill, out of sight.

"This is Gallus, the thief. He has robbed more than 20 travelers on the road to Lattara. I condemned him to die this morning, and he was crucified this afternoon." The prelate spoke softly to his wife, though there was no one close except for the man suffering before them.

Julia looked up at the face of the man, the firelight flickering orange across his darkened features. Torches were set up on four corners of the hill, though only three were flaming at the moment. The thief Gallus sagged down on the wooden beams, his body stretched out from its own weight. Julia could see his ribs, and his stomach curved inward slightly. Higher up, the thief's arms were stretched taut, spread out and an odd angle. The body was slumped forward slightly, which caused the arms to be pulled back behind the man, twisting his shoulders.

The prelate gazed at the man for a while, and then spoke in explanation. "You see how all his weight is on his arms, spread wide, but not completely out. This causes the weight of his body to drag down through his arms and then to his chest. The muscles of his arms, chest and diaphragm are all under tremendous stress right now. It causes cramps, and as he dehydrates and looses strength, the body will sag as you see it doing now."

"Is... is he dead?" Julia asked, but then immediately saw the answer. Gallus sucked in air, breathing in with a labored effort, his chest and stomach expanding. A rasping sound came from the man and he opened his eyes to see what was below him.

"Water..." the man croaked.

There was a slight smell of urine in the air from where the condemned man had relieved himself. His body was covered with sweat. Flies gather around him, especially his eyes, nose and lips.

Julia shuddered. "So this is what you do at night when you can not sleep, you come here and look at the tortured bodies of the crucified?"

"Not just that," said the prelate. "Their agony fascinates me in a way I can not describe. It is satisfying, fulfilling, exciting. Oh... look at what he is doing--"

Gallus was moving, writhing, shifting positions. The muscles in his legs strained and pushed down on his feet, which were nailed securely to the cross upright. Julia backed away in alarm.

"Don't worry my love. This is what we call The Dance. If the angle of the arms is correct, his weight presses down on his chest and makes it hard to breathe. So, they will lift themselves up as best they can--"

"AAAAaaaaggggghhhhhhhh" a long low agonizing cry came from Gallus as the nails in his feet ground against crushed bone as he lifted himself up, relieving pressure on his shoulders and chest.  His feet were nailed flat against the upright and thus he was unable to rise far enough to lock his knees. His legs shook with the strain of staying upright, and then suddenly collapsed. Gallus sank down, coming to a halt with a slight jerk when the nails in his wrists slammed against bone and tendon, causing the man to shriek with pain once again.

When all was still, the beautiful young girl shook her head and asked her husband, "It is a terrible thing. I don't understand this, why you would want to come here."

The prelate reached out and took the man's testicles in his hand. The crucified man's legs were slightly spread at the knees, exposing his genitalia for all to see, part of the humiliating punishment to which he was being subjected.

"Here, my love. Take them." The prelate took Julia's soft white hand and guided it too the man's scrotum. She tentatively obeyed and touched the rough, thick flesh sack. The man groaned as he felt her soft touch and she quickly withdrew her hand.

"It's OK. The man is but an animal, less than an animal. Take him. Touch him."

Julia reached out again at her husband's urging, and took the flesh sack in her hands. She had never experienced a man other than her husband, and her interest had piqued. Gently, she felt the heavy folds of flesh and the soft lumps contained inside. Gallus moaned from pain and confusion as she slowly felt the man's anatomy. Reaching out her other hand, she took both testicles, one in each hand and began to examine them, squeezing them gently.

"Please... forgiveness, mercy... water..." Gallus pleaded in an agonized voice. His breathing was ragged, and the sweat poured across his naked flesh in rivulets. It was not hot enough this late at night for the naked man to be sweating; it was from the pain he was experiencing, his desperation.

"He is there for you to use," the prelate whispered into his young wife's ear as she pressed her fingers deep into the crucified thief's scrotum. Bizarrely, she noticed that her ministrations had caused the young condemned man's penis to begin swelling. Gasping, the girl shifted one hand and wrapped it around the engorging member. This further encouraged the erection, which grew large.

"Oh! Look! He is like you, when you are with me!" Julia was fascinated.

"No! No! Please, don't torture me, don't do this to me. Kill me now. Let me die!" The thief pleaded, his voice so raspy from lack of water that it was difficult to understand him. He tried to shift his hips away from Julia's prying hands, but this simply twisted his agonized wrists, causing the nails to cut and smash new nerves. Another shriek of pain came from the thief.

This time Julia did not retreat. She was fascinated at having a man, nailed down and unable to resist, at her complete disposal. Looking at her husband for approval, she turned again to the erect penis and began stroking. It stood out now, hard and erect, pointing slightly upward. The thief moaned with each stroke of the woman's soft hands. His hips now moved very slightly in rhythm with her strokes.

The prelate watched with satisfaction as his wife slowly but consistently stimulated the crucified man. He knew from having done this himself many times before the anguish the man experienced as his massive pain was mixed with the sensual pleasure. The humiliation of what was happening, the helplessness, simply added to his vulnerability and involuntary arousal. As he observed the man's hips begin a more urgent thrusting, he reached out to his wife.

"Stop for a moment. Observe."

Julia pulled back a step or two. Gallus hung from the cross, sobbing dry tears. His lips were cracked, mouth hanging open, eyes open but glazed. "Please..." he croaked again. "Don't leave me."

His member remained erect. "Go ahead and finish him off," the prelate told his wife.

Julia stepped forward, but this time, frustrated with how dry the man's flesh was, took him into her mouth to lubricate him. This brought a sudden moan, "Aaaahhh. Ohhhh..." from the man who turned his head to the heavens as he felt the young girl's lips and tongue surround his penis.

Feeling the immediate reaction from the crucified man, Julia continued to stimulate him with her mouth, pushing him in deeply and then sliding out to where the head of his penis was just touching her lips. Plunging in again, she took him inside all the way. Doing this to a man who had no choice, forcing this man to experience her pleasure while he felt the agony of the cross, was exciting to Julia beyond anything she had ever felt.

When she felt Gallus thrust his hips forward and her hand under his scrotum felt the pulsing of muscles, she suddenly decided what she would do. Stepping back and away, she released the man's penis, allowing it to hang, untouched.

The delight in taking control in this way, of forcing something on a man and then taking it away, gave Julia a sudden rush of pleasure.

Gallus, on the other hand, was in misery. His hips thrust once, twice, his penis jerked and bounced a few times, but only a small trickle of semen emerged. The orgasm promised by Julia had been taken from him, robbed just as he had robbed so many on the highway. A great cry of agony, frustration and despair rose in the night.

Julia and the prelate looked at Gallus, nailed to the cross, shaking uncontrollably. The experience had driven him wild, the pain was too much for his brain to handle, and when mixed with the alternate torture of this humiliation ending in a stolen orgasm, Gallus cried, struggled, screamed, and finally fell silent, unable to do anything but endure his excruciatingly slow death.

The prelate turned with his wife to go back to the nearby palace. The guards returned to stand watch as the crucified man continued to suffer in the night.

Julia was silent on the walk back, but when they reached the private quarters, she almost tore her clothes off she was so aroused. She took the prelate, riding him, clutching him as he rode her, forcing multiple orgasms from them both. The experience of tormenting the helpless condemned man had made them both so excited they played and fucked each other in every way imaginable.

Sunday, June 9, 2013

Crux Inflation

"For the crime of spreading slander and impugning the integrity of a tax officer, the court sentences you to be hung by the cross and inflated until you are dead, after which your body will be displayed publicly for one week as a lesson for all." The grey haired female judge that had overseen the brief trial banged her gavel, and Jessica collapsed from where she stood behind the defendant's table.

Jessica was helped up from the floor where she fainted. The pretty, petite brunette was a TV investigative reporter that had dared investigate the government. Now she would pay the ultimate price. Public crucifixion and death from a new and horrible technique: inflation.

Some years before the government had rediscovered what the Romans knew; punishment was most effective when it was also used as a warning. Thus, punishment needed to be graphic, and very public. Over the years crucifixion had regained its place as a form of execution, and new and cruel variations on execution methods had been introduced. The more bizarre the method, the more excruciating and agonizing the death of the victim, the better. Inflation was a new method that had been tested in theory, but Jessica would be the first to undergo the procedure, and no one really knew what the result would be.

A group of six guards surrounded the young woman, who was already bound in transport shackles, wrists locked to her waist and ankles chained in a way that made her shuffle. It was humiliating, being bound in public, and Jessica hung her head, long brown hair hanging down to cover her beautiful face.  The waist chain hugged her lean body, the too-tight clothing showing the shape of her body clearly. Jessica had worked hard on that body, and now it was to be destroyed in a humiliatingly public manner.

She was taken to a small concrete cell off the main jail near the justice center. Two of the guards stood outside the door as it clanged shut on her and her attorney. "We gave it our best shot, Jess. I am sorry it came to this."

"When will you file the appeal?" Jessica said shakily.

"Appeal? I... Jess... there is no appeal for this crime. Not since last year when Congress passed the Swift Trial and Sentencing Act.Tonight you will be prepped for the execution, and tomorrow it will take place. The only paperwork I will file is the request for a good seat. I want to watch; it will be the first time for inflation. It should be quite interesting..." The attorney trailed off, seeing the horrified look on Jessica's face. He knocked on the door, and left as quickly as he could.

Jessica sat in the cell, waiting, crying softly. She was numb, unable to believe what was happening to her. After several hours she realized she had not been unshackled and was unable to relieve herself. She might be scheduled for execution but her body was still working and demanded its normal activities. She needed to urinate badly, and called out to the guard. "Uh... guard... can someone take these shackles off? I need to pee."

The guard smirked through the bars and said, "Someone will be by in a little while."

Jessica rocked on the hard metal slab that served as a bed. She considered just peeing in her orange jumpsuit as she waited, but didn't want to give the guards the pleasure of seeing her humiliated any further. Finally, a woman in a white lab coat showed up and the two guards let her in. She carried a large medical backpack.

"I am here to prepare you for your execution," the woman said in a very matter of fact tone. "This won't be pleasant, but it will be a lot less pleasant if you don't cooperate."

The woman took out a set of keys and unlocked the shackles. "Remove your jumpsuit, and underclothes."

"What? Can I pee first, I really need to--"

The woman didn't react, she simply repeated her order. "Remove your clothes, including your underwear. We will take care of your pee in a moment." 

Jessica unbuttoned and unzipped her jumpsuit, removing the prison slippers as she stepped out of the legs. Glancing at the male guards outside her cell, she hesitated but then saw the emotionless woman waiting for her. She unhooked her bra, and felt her perfect C cup breasts sag slightly as they were exposed. She slipped out of her panties, and stood completely naked in front of the woman and two guards. She unsuccessfully tried to cover herself with her hands. The guards leered at her naked, and luscious, body.

"This will be a lot easier if you lay down on the table," said the woman. Jessica lay down on her back, the cold metal surface making her skin contrac. The woman took her ankles and lifted. "Raise your legs; grab your ankles."

Jessica flushed in total humiliation. The resulting position would completely expose all her most private parts. What was this woman doing? She hesitated.

"Jessica, I am here to prepare you for execution. If you like, we can tie you up into the required position, but as I said, it will be easier if you cooperate. I won't ask again."

Jessica raised her legs, spreading them slightly, and grabbed her ankles. Four guards were now gathered outside the bars, watching her ordeal.  The woman produced a thin tube, massaged and spread Jessica's pussy lips apart, and then shoved the tube up her urethra. It hurt, and Jessica cried out briefly as the tube was shoved higher and higher until it finally entered her bladder. Hot urine suddenly flowed down the tube.  The woman fed the tube into a small drain in the center of the floor, and the urine flowed out of Jessica's body and down the drain.

Next, the woman produced a huge enema bag and started filling it with water. Jessica watched in horror; she had never experienced an enema and was afraid. While her bladder felt better as the urine continued evacuating her bladder, she was shaking with cold and fright.

When the enema bag was almost full, the woman took some slimy liquid and poured it in. She then shook and mixed the bag and hung it on a small hook above the metal table. A long plastic tube ran down from the bottom and the woman took this and unceremoniously shoved it up Jessica's ass. Once again, Jessica cried out in pain, and the guards laughed in delight. 

The retaining clip was undone and cold water suddenly filled Jessica's bowels. At first, it didn't hurt much. After the water began pressing deeper into her cramping spread over her abdomen and she moaned, holding her stomach. As the enema progressed, she moaned and rocked on the hard metal table, amazed at how much pain was coursing through her body. The water kept flowing. The pain moved, and grew, and then subsided, and then grew again. She felt nauseous.

"You know, guys," the woman spoke to the six guards now gathered outside the cell, "if two of you want to fill her other two holes, I might be persuaded. For the right amount."

The guards suddenly pulled out their wallets and began bidding. A few moments later, cash had changed hands and two of the guards entered the cell. One took up a position just above Jessica's head, and unzipped his pants. A huge cock sprung out, hard and ready.  The other guard knelt where Jessica's ass was completely exposed, as she was still holding her ankles to keep her legs back and ass exposed. Her mouth was the first filled; the huge cock forced its way through her lips, past her tongue, and into her throat. She gagged on the smelly organ, her body wriggling in humiliation and pain from the enema.

Jessica's pussy lips were spread and the second cock pressed deep inside her, pushing in and out fast, hard. The sudden movement jolted her water filled body and she almost screamed as the pain of another cramp hit her.  She had been in threesomes before, with the network boss and studio head; but this was completely different. This was painful, not fun. 

Instinctively doing her best to stimulate the man whose cock was embedded deep in her mouth, she sucked and rolled and flicked and played with it. He moaned and thrust, and finally pulled out to unload a huge gob of semen onto her face. Some got in her hair, eyes and the rest tricked down her cheeks. Moments later the other guard shot his load deep inside her pussy, shoving hard and deep.

When it was over, so was the enema. The water was completely drained from the bag, and Jessica felt like she was going to explode; the needed the toilet worse that she had ever needed it in her life.  "Please.... can I go..." she looked at the open, exposed toilet.

"Yes, please do. I will pull out the enema plug. Try to hold it the three feet to the toilet, please." The woman pulled and the enema nozzle popped out. Jessica almost didn't make it, getting to the toilet just on time before she began squirting water and feces out of her ass. This continued in spurts and cycles as her bowels emptied. The cramping began to subside and she noticed that there must be 20 guards outside her cell by now.

"Here, dear. You probably need to hydrate some after that experience." The woman handed Jessica a large glass of water. She eagerly took it and drank. "Drink it up now."

When most of the water was gone, she realized it tasted funny. Turning to the woman, she asked, "what was in that?"

"Ipecac." The woman said it simply, just another fact, as if Jessica were a machine she was working on. "We cleared your bladder and bowels, now it is time--"

Jessica felt a sudden, massive wave of nausea and whirled to vomit into the toilet. Her stomach muscles clenched, contracting and pressing to force the contents of her stomach out her mouth. The guards watched as her beautiful body shuddered and contracted, forcing more fluid out of every hole.

"-- for your stomach..." finished the woman.

The vomiting lasted long after all the contents of her stomach were expelled. Jessica vomited and puked, her breasts flattened against the toilet seat, urine flowing uncontrolled from the tubing still embedded in her bladder. She had never felt this sick before. She wanted to die, literally, wanting to end this misery. The pain wracked her body from all it had been through.  When the vomiting finally stopped, she lay on the floor, shaking uncontrollably, no longer aware or caring about her nudity.

The woman handcuffed Jessica, securing her wrists behind her back. "Just a precaution. Sleep well, your last sleep. See you tomorrow, bright and early!"

The door clanged shut and Jessica slowly drifted to sleep, exhausted from the tortures of the day.

"Time! It's time! Can't keep the public waiting!"  The sound of the guard's voice cut into Jessica's nightmare. She woke with one side cold and aching from laying on the concrete floor, the smell of vomit, urine and feces in the air. Slowly rolling over onto her back, she opened her eyes and saw the guard standing in the cell door, staring between her open legs. She quickly closed them, and began to painfully sit up.

The guard laughed. "Any last shred of dignity you have won't be worth a damn in an hour. You are nothing but a piece of meat."

Three male guards entered her cell, two grabbing her arms and spinning her around to face the wall. The third took a leather strap and cinched her elbows back behind her back until they touched; Jessica whimpered slightly at the pain in her shoulders as they were stretched. With her arms bound tightly behind her back, Jessica became acutely aware of how her breasts were forced out and displayed as she was turned around and guided toward the door of her cell.

In the prison corridor, they were met by the woman that had prepared Jessica the day before. She was wearing a black, tight fitting cotton cover-all that emphasized her shapely body, though the black color hid many of the lines and details.

"Please... may I have water? I am so dehydrated from the vomiting yesterday." Jessica asked the woman in a pleading voice.

The woman in black shook her head in disbelief. "Of course you are dehydrated. You are supposed to be. Don't you get it yet? You are being executed. Killed. You are going to die of dehydration, if you don't die from sepsis first. This is just the first kiss of pain that you will be experiencing as you die in public, for all to see."

Jessica looked at the woman numbly and said nothing. The reality of what was happening to her was overwhelming. She was actually going to die, soon, and suffer horribly before hand.

Moments later the guards jerked her and half led, half dragged her down the corridor. Opening a metal door at the end, Jessica was led into a room slightly larger than her cell but still made of concrete and lit with a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. It was cold, and she shivered in her nakedness. All the guards and the executioner woman sat, waiting. Jessica was left to stand.

"This is going to be interesting," the oldest of the guards said to the executioner woman. "Have you ever done an inflation before?"

"No one has, at least, not as an execution. I've done several crucifixions, but this is the first inflation. I am looking forward to it. This one is a good specimen, too, she is strong, young, and good looking. She will put on a good show."

"Yeah. I wanted to thank you for letting us fuck her last night. That was real nice," one of the younger guards grumbled from a corner, as they waited.

"Hey! I am right here, I can hear everything you are saying!" Jessica snapped. "Don't talk like I am some animal being slaughtered."

The woman looked at her with a half smile. "But that is exactly what you are. And if you don't shut up, I will cut out your tongue and stuff your mouth with cotton and then sew your lips together. We still have a few minutes until the scheduled start, and I don't feel like listening to you. Got it?"

"I am not an animal!" The words burst from Jessica's mouth suddenly and vehemently. A look of horror came over her face as the executioner rose and Jessica realized what was going to happen. "No, please, I will be quiet. Please, no, this isn't necessary. Look, I will shut up..."

The executioner left the room and returned with several items. She motioned to the guards who held Jessica tightly, forcing her head back as far as it would go. The executioner then took a thin blade, pried it between Jessica's teeth, then turned the blade, forcing her mouth open.

"Ahhhahahahyayayahhhahayayayaya!!!!!" cried Jessica, her tongue waving about in her mouth.

The executioner took a pair of heavy tongs, reached in to the prisoner's mouth and grabbed the tongue, squeezing down hard until the ratcheted tongs held the tongue securely. The weight of the tongs pulled Jessica's tongue forward and out of her mouth. Jessica struggled, trying to shake her head to avoid the sharp knife that reached into her open mouth, but the guards held her secure. With one clean slice, Jessica's tongue was sliced off and flopped onto the floor.

Jessica screamed and blood burbled out of the corners of her mouth. The executioner took a handful of cotton balls and shoved them into the poor condemned's mouth, packing the bleeding and filling the mouth. The cotton balls absorbed and stopped the bleeding. Without a tongue, there was nothing Jessica could do to push the cotton out of her mouth.

With a large curved needle and heavy thread the female executioner pierced Jessica's top lip, causing another short and muffled scream. The needle slid down and through the lower lip and the thread was pulled through to a knotted end. Pulling the soft flesh of the lips together, the needle pierced the upper lip again, then down through the lower one, and so on.

"There, isn't that better?" The executioner looked at her handiwork. Jessica stood naked in the middle of the room, tears flowing down her cheeks, her lips tightly but discreetly sewn together. The cotton wadding made her cheeks bulge a bit, but she still retained all of her former beauty.

"Let's prep her for the stomach inflation," said the woman, getting a long flexible plastic tube. Jessica was forced to her knees where she moaned and watched the executioner smear a lubricant on the end of the tube. Her mouth throbbed with pain, though what little bleeding occurred from the stump of her tongue was absorbed and she no longer swallowed blood. Her head was forced back again and the tube shoved up her nose.

"Swallow. It will be less painful." The woman executioner said coldly.

When the tube had made its way through Jessica's nose and into her throat, she swallowed, over and over again, trying to help the tube down. Finally it reached her stomach and the woman stopped shoving. Jessica was released and she fell over, laying on her side, moaning and grunting.

"We are due to start now, or I would let you guys take her again, one more time," said the woman. The door on the opposite site of the room opened and a man with a headset poked his head in. "Its time. You ready?"

"Yep. Let's do it," the executioner fixed her hair and make sure her clothes were straight and then motioned for the guards to bring Jessica behind her as she exited the room.

Jessica was dragged, her head hanging down limply, into an open air arena. There were seats on three sides filled with people, and in the center stood a slightly elevated stage. The sun shown into the center of the arena, and there were TV cameras positioned in many locations.  They followed the crew of executioners led by the woman in black as they dragged Jessica to the stage where they dumped her.

There was a cross on the stage, right next to where Jessica lay. She saw it, and struggled to stand. Her her arms pinioned behind her back, it was difficult but she managed to get to her knees. Cameras zoomed in to view her body as she moved, panning along her naked legs, reddened arms where she was bound, across where her ribs were exposed on the sides of her body, pausing briefly on her swaying, dangling breasts, and finally coming to rest on her cum encrusted face. Tears had created small rivulets that marked and emphasized the dried semen left from her use during the last few hours.

The executioners unbuckled the elbow straps and unlocked the handcuffs the girl had worn since the night before. She instinctively moved her hands in front of her to rub the sore skin of her wrists, but the guards grabbed them and spread them out, dragging her backward and then forcing her down on her back on top of the cross.

Jessica struggled, all the pain and exhaustion leaving her in a rush of adrenalin and fear. The audience cheered her on though she did not hear them. She kicked, and yanked her arms, trying to get free, but was held in place. The woman in black moved to her right arm, where her wrist was being held down to the crossbeam. She had something, a machine or gun in her hands... Jessica tried to scream but her mouth wouldn't open as the executioner held the machine to her wrist...

The audience watched as the sensual, lithe executioner held the nail gun to the condemned's wrists. There was a sudden POP and the girl on the cross jerked, her back arching up, exposing her sex organs for all to see, and then dropping back down. Muffled screams could be heard.

As the executioners stepped back from the right arm it remained in place. The nail had been placed well and the victim's arm was secured to the cross. There was no blood. They moved to the left side, repeating the process. This time the victim started writhing before the nail gun popped, anticipating the excruciating pain. Cameras zoomed in to show the detail of her struggles. The second pop of the nail gun caused a shudder and jerk, and as the executioners stepped back, the victim lay writhing on her back, unable to move her arms. Her screams were audible, though muffled.

The next step of the crucifixion was special; for this was the first crucifixion that included inflation. Extending from the cross between the girl's legs was a flexible rubber protrusion that looked like an elongated, thin dildo. Two of the executioners grabbed Jessica's hips and raised them up. A third grabbed the probe and maneuvered it until it rested at the opening to her anus. The two guards holding Jessica's hips then released her and she slid, roughly, down onto the probe.

Jessica was in worse agony than she had ever imagined. Her arms felt like they were on fire, the pain rippling and burning. She tried to struggle, to pull her arms free but even small movements sent shock waves of pain through her that almost made her lose consciousness. She could feel the nails scraping broken bones, and any movement made it worse. Gasping, panting for air, she was almost unaware when her hips were raised and the probe inserted, but when her hips were released she fell down onto the stiff rubber dong and it plunged into her rectum, forcing its way deep inside of her bowels, hurting and scraping the walls of her large intestine as it went.

With Jessica properly impaled on the rubber dong, the executioners went to work on her feet. Grabbing her right leg they bent it at the knee, drawing her bare foot up the side of the cross with the sole facing the side. This forced her knee and leg wide to the side. When positioned properly, the woman in black took the nail gun and POP another nail slammed home through the fine bones of Jessica's foot. Her body jerked reflexively from the damage, though the added pain was a small increment to that she was already experiencing.  Her last foot was positioned on the other side of the cross, and nailed quickly in place.

When the executioners were finished Jessica lay on the cross, staring up at the blue morning sky above her. Her arms were spread out wide, legs forced into a widely exposed position. The places where the nails secured her to the cross throbbed with pain, and her mouth felt like it was full of vomit and acid that was eating her flesh. She didn't move.

The audience was frantic with excitement. Most audiences were fascinated by the modern crucifixions, and this one was better than most, being as the victim was an attractive young woman. But the best was yet to come; the crowd was eagerly awaiting the moment when Jessica would be raised up into the hanging position, and the remarkable inflation process would begin.

Jessica felt her body slowly being lifted, and as her head rose higher she was able to look out over the arena. It was packed with people all eagerly viewing her suffering and humiliation. She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut for a moment, and then opened them again. She was nearly vertical now, and her weight was shifting down, placing more and more drag on her shattered wrists. The pain shot through her arms and into her back and chest and she writhed in place instinctively, though any movement just made the pain worse. Screaming was impossible with her mouth sewn shut and stuffed full as it was, but she did her best.

As she reached the vertical position Jessica felt her body continuing its motion while the cross behind her stopped. She fell forward, thrusting out with her momentum, stopped only when her arms jerked her back. Her entire torso was thrust forward obscenely, and sagged back and down. At first, her body motion had pulled her hips forward, sliding up and out from the rubber dildo device that was deep inside her anus. Long before she reached its end, her body snapped back, and the device once again savagely penetrated deep into her bowels.

Jessica hung on the cross exposed for all to see, arms wide, legs wide, slight trickles of blood coming from the nail wounds in her wrists and feet, cum crusted and dried on her face, breasts heaving as she breathed heavily, trying but unable to scream.  The cameras panned her body, showing every muscle contraction and wobbling breast, the contortion of her face and the claw like shape of her hands.  Her agony was documented for the country to see.

Pain from the nails was soon joined by pain from her muscles, cramping from strain. First it was her shoulders, and then her back. Trying to move excited the crowd watching her writhing attempts to relieve the contractions of the muscles, but did little to remove the pain. She thrust her hips forward, sliding out on the rubber dildo, and then sank back. She sat on the device, though it gave only a bare minimum of support. The pain rippled and ached through her back and down to her hips.

Attempting to move from side to side was difficult; the dildo held her hips in place, but she moved her torso in small, agonized jerks, trying to relieve the searing pain. Nothing helped. She finally sagged down, impaled in place and looked out over the crowd that was deriving such pleasure from watching her suffering. Behind the cameras was a whole nation, she knew, taking bets on how long she would last, viewing the details of her vaginal lips exposed on TV, watching for the first signs of her next attempt to move.

Then something happened.

There was a hissing noise and she felt something deep inside her body. A gradual feeling of nausea came over her replaced by a feeling of bloating. Her head hung down from exhaustion and she suddenly realized that her abdomen was increasing in size.

Air was being slowly but steadily pumped into her bowls through the device in her anus.

Jessica thrust her head back, looking at they sky, the only move of protest she could make. She shut her eyes and then looked down again. The hissing continued, and her stomach continued to grow. It didn't hurt terribly, not compared to the agony the rest of her body was experiencing, but fear gripped her as she felt her body slowly expanding like a balloon.

The hissing stopped.

Suddenly, Jessica let out a huge, loud, long, flapping, disgusting fart that seemed to go on for several minutes. The audience went crazy. Jessica could tell only some of the air had escaped, she still felt bloated. She contracted her stomach, trying to expel more air, but hardly any came out.

The woman in black, the executioner, appeared again, in front of her. She had a soft black piece of rubber in her hand. She knelt before Jessica, and as cameras zoomed in to catch the action, the execution slowly worked the pliant rubber into Jessica's exposed vagina. It went in easily, having been lubricated, though it was large. As the last bit went into the vagina, Jessica's pussy lips closed around a thin black rubber hose that exited and extended behind the cross.

Hissing again. Jessica felt her stomach distending again, but this time it was right in the cradle of her hips; the rubber in her vagina was expanding into a large bladder. It grew and grew inside of her, making her lower abdomen expand outward. Her flesh was stretching inside, slowly adapting to the expanding bladder as if she were pregnant.

When the crucified woman looked about six months pregnant, the bladder stopped expanding. Her pussy lips were spread, exposing the lower part of the rounded bladder, but it was too large for her to expel.

The sun was straight up in the sky; it was about mid-day. The heat pounded down on the stage, sweat pouring from the condemned woman's flesh and tricking down her once shapely body.  She was so thirsty. She wanted to die, but first she wanted just a sip of water. Her body throbbed, the entire body, from her toes, to her fingers, to her head.

The anal hissing began again, and Jessica felt her intestines filling with air once again. This time, it hurt. The inflation of her bowels, combined with the inflation of her womb, was just too much. The flesh inside her body was stretching, her stomach bloating outward. Cramps in the organs inside her body joined the cramps of her muscles. Jessica's breathing came in short, panicked gasps now, snorting through her nose.

The hissing didn't stop; it kept going. There was an occasional loud fart from her anus, but most of the air was moving higher into her small intestines. She could feel it pressing and compressing her organs. Had she not vomited the contents of her stomach up 12 hours earlier, she would have been choking on it now.

Jessica cried, but there were no more tears. She had lost too much body fluid and was dying of dehydration.

The audience watched as the beautiful young woman's beautiful body slowly grew like a balloon, expanding outward until she looked like she was nine months pregnant with twins. It was an awesome sight, with every aspect of her torture observable as she hung from the cross for all to see.

The executioner produced needles. Two were inserted into each of Jessica's breasts; she hardly noticed.  Fluid began pumping into the perfect soft globes of flesh. It was hardly discernible, but the breasts slowly expanded as the fluid penetrated the soft fat tissue of the breasts, making them larger and heavier. Jessica knew what was happening, but didn't care. It didn't hurt, in fact, her breasts were probably the only part of her body that didn't hurt at that point.

The added weight of the breasts pulled the victim's body forward, pulling on her spread arms. The breasts didn't hurt from the expansion, but it increased the agony of her nailed arms and shoulders.

Jessica prayed for death; she tried to make noise to beg through her mouth, but all that came out was a raspy grunt.

The crowd watched in amazement as the distended, swollen body of this once beautiful young woman hung from the cross. Her writhing movements were diminished, she could no longer move about the cross because of how her body was bloated.  It was clear she was conscious and suffering greatly, she even made noise from time to time, but it was mostly just helpless endurance.

The slow hissing of air into Jessica's bowels continued, pushing air up her small intestines very slowly, but surely.  Around 4:00 in the afternoon, as the sun was approaching the edge of the stadium, the air made its way into Jessica's stomach, rising up through the top of her intestines. She belched.

The belch came out mostly through the poor girl's nose, with just some air making its way past the now compressed cotton wadding in her mouth and between the cracks of her sewn lips. It made her gasp for air afterward, heaving her abnormally swollen and heavy breasts which now dangled down over her obscenely distended stomach.

Inside her torso, many of Jessica's organs were failing. Her liver was damaged, no longer filtering blood properly, and her heart was struggling to beat. Some in the audience wondered if she would burst, but those who knew assured others that human flesh was incredibly tough and was extremely unlikely to ever rupture.

Jessica hung half conscious from the cross, unaware of the audience or even where she was. Her mind was filled with the agony of the violation of her entire body. She no longer thought rationally.

As the sun descended behind the stands of the stadium, the last phase began under bright lights. An additional hissing announced the flow of air entering the small tube that had been inserted into Jessica's nose many hours before. It pumped air into her stomach.

Flesh distended beyond recognition, Jessica hung from the cross, a rounded lump of flesh with arms and legs splaying out in various directions. The air inflating the girl's stomach added to the air slowly bubbling up from the intestines, and expanded the insides of her body the only way left -- up.

Pressing against her heart and lungs, Jessica's grotesquely inflated abdomen pressed her chest up, crushing her heart and preventing her from expanding her lungs. Jessica instinctively lifted herself on the cross, trying to draw breath, and then lost consciousness. She slid back down, and hung motionless. Her body shut down, and she died.

During the week that Jessica's body remained deflated on the cross for all to see, there was much debate about the nature of the crucifixion. Some said that it was a new pinnacle in public torture and humiliation. Others criticized it, saying that the victim had died significantly faster than more traditional crucifixions. The general consensus declared that it was a spectacle of great interest and value in deterring others from questioning or investigating governmental activities. Most certainly, after Jessica's very public torture and death, no one dared question government actions for years to come.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Crucified Male

The Roman Procurator of Dacia tossed in his bed. In spite of the hard day, he was not able to sleep, his mind filled with troubles and the jealousies of his wife. The light sheets that covered him were too hot and he was sweating, making him more uncomfortable.Something in his brain itched, desired, and kept him from fully resting.

He knew what it was that he needed. Fighting the urge was useless, the only way to calm himself, get some sleep and move on was to give in. Tossing the sheets aside, he rose and put on a light robe. He descended the hidden stairs that exited the rear of his personal quarters, down stone steps that led to a small door leading to the back garden. There he crossed to a gate which led to a lane following a short line of trees and ended at a small hill.

A number of torches circled and lit the hill. There was a light breeze here, though the night was still hot. Three soldiers and a centurion sat in the shadows of the flickering fire light, keeping the hill safe from intruders. The centurion caught site of the Procurator as he approached quietly and stood, walking over to greet him. He knew why the magistrate was there and kept his voice low.

"Greetings sir."

"Greetings, Mallus. Who do we have tonight?"

"Just one sir. Mallius Arellius, the thief. He has been hanging since sunset."

The Procurator looked at the center of the clearing where a large wooden cross was implanted in the ground.  Hanging from it was a man in his mid-twenties, naked, with his arms spread above him, hands curled into claws where the nails secured him to the patibulum.

"He is a good looking fellow. Strong. He will last for a while," the Procurator said. He remembered sentencing the criminal a few days before and recognized the strong features of the man in spite of the beatings and abuse he had received since then.

"Yes, he has been rather active and talking. Swearing, I should say. We have all been cursed by him."

The Procurator laughed. "Yes, we always are. Take your men down to the bottom of the hill for a while."

The centurion understood the request, as this scene was repeated about once every two or three weeks. He barked an order and the soldiers gathered their weapons and marched a few yards down the hill to the end of the path, giving the magistrate some privacy.

The procurator approached the crucified man. He could hear the heavy breathing of the victim as he sucked air in through his open mouth. His body was shiny with sweat, lean and muscular. The Procurator had been impressed by the strength and fine looks of the man when he appeared in court and had not been able to stop thinking about him. Now he hung, nailed to the wood beams, helpless and available.

The man's body was stretched out. The cross did that; the wrists nailed above, the body's weight pulled and stretched itself down, showing all the curves and muscles of the arms, shoulders, chest, stomach and thighs. In addition to the strain of being suspended, the man's body was in constant motion, in little ways. Muscles twitched, weight was shifted, breathing altered as air was gasped. This all resulted from the constant pain and myriad ways crucifixion caused agony in the body.

The procurator observed the victim closely. The victim was naked, of course, exposed from every angle, arms out and legs slightly bent and forced wide apart, exposing his private parts. The agony this man was experiencing started with the nails through his wrists, which had probably shattered the bones and shredded his nerves. He could also see the strain on the man's shoulders, where his weight pulled and caused cramping which extended around the entire upper body. He shifted weight back and forth, trying to find that better position that never came.

Shock and abuse had also caused big internal problems, cramping and nausea. The area smelled of urine from where the victim had released his bladder onto the ground earlier. His legs appeared to be intact, which was good. He would live and suffer longer.

The Procurator moved in and reached out, taking hold of the crucified man's genitals. This brought the man's eyes up and directed toward the Procurator. "What... what... what are you... you!"

Recognition lit the victim's eyes. He knew the procurator, the man who had condemned him. Hate, misery, humiliation, and fear flashed across his features.

The Procurator examined the genitals in his hands carefully. The testicles were hanging low in their heavy flesh sack, elongated from the hot weather. His penis was large, even when flaccid. Taking the shaft in one hand, the Procurator began a slow, gentle massaging. His other hand went around and held the victim's buttocks, holding him still and gripping him tightly.

This action was so surprising, so humiliating, and so horrifying to the agonized man that he cried out, "Aaaahhhhhggg nooooo!!!!!" He tried to lift himself up, pushing on his nailed feet to rise up. It was to no avail. The procurator allowed him to rise, but simply followed his motion, continuing to stroke his penis, using his hand to grab and press the man's buttocks forward to encourage a small thrusting motion.

Saliva and mucus drooled down from the mouth and nose of the crucified man. His breathing was raspy and he let himself down slowly, having learned the agony involved with a quick drop that would tug on his nailed hands. Tears began to stream down his cheeks as the Procurator continued masturbating him. An erection began to form, slowly but surely. The Procurator was patient, stroking slowly and carefully with special attention paid to the penis glans, encouraging the arousal in the condemned and tortured man.

"Please... no.... let me die without this..." The thief begged, rasping with strained breathing, chest heaving, body shaking with the pain that covered his entire body.

The Procurator simply continued, quickening his stroke slightly as the victim's erection became complete. Dripping mucus slid down the thief's chin and dripped down to the penis, where it was spread and used to lubricate.  The magistrate's grip on the man's buttocks never wavered, pulling his hips forward in a thrusting motion that coincided with his stroke on the hardened member.

Convulsions of pain shook the body hanging from the cross, sobs of humiliation mixed with tortured agony grew loud as the Procurator increased his rhythm, masturbating the rock hard penis of the condemned. The thrusting motion caused slight jerking on the wrists, increasing pain for the victim. With that pain, the involuntary arousal was reaching a climax.

The crying victim began thrusting his hips forward himself, without the urging of the Procurator. He began to actively fuck the magistrate's hand, as his arousal temporarily overcame, or merged with, his humiliation, helplessness and torment.

With a single loud cry, Mallius Arellius, the thief and victim on the cross, thrust forward and squeezed semen out with a convulsive climax. He ejaculated, spurting sperm several feet out and down onto the dirt below him, where it mingled with the dried urine he had deposited earlier. The muscles in his groin and all the way back to his anus convulsed and contracted. He continued to ejaculate for some time, his muscles convulsing even after all the available semen had been pumped out and spilled on the ground.

Collapsing in place, the victim shook from pain and humiliation, the muscles in his body twisting in new and horrific cramps after the sexual climax faded. His body sagged lower on the cross than before, his breathing was more ragged, and he moaned in constant pain.

"Why... why... why... why..." the thief moaned repeatedly.

The Procurator reached down and touched his own erection. It felt good. Seeing this man in horrible torment made him hard. Using him and abusing him made him ready to climax himself. He stepped back and called out to the centurion at the bottom of the hill.

"Return with your men. Use the sedile."

He quickly returned to the garden, climbed the stairs to his room, removed his robe and lay on the bed. He took his erection in hand and remembering the image of the suffering man's body writhing in mixed agony and sexual ecstasy. His stroking produced his own ejaculation in very little time.

He fell asleep quickly.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Suicide On The Cross

The Broker sat behind his desk and stared at the young brunette woman sitting across from him. Had he really heard her correctly? She wanted to be crucified?

"Um... Miss... Hayes. Am I to understand you actually want a full Roman crucifixion, nails, torture, agony, and all? I mean, usually people come to me wanting extreme body modifications or in rare cases, help with a safe and effective means of self termination. But..."

"Call me Julie. Yes, you understand me correctly. And if you look at me, question me, you will see I am perfectly sane, and that my mind is made up." The girl stated with confidence, looking at the older man steadily. "Here is information concerning a debilitating and eventually terminal illness I have." Julie stood up and handed over a large folder packed with printouts, diagnostics, doctor notations and the like. "I have no wish to live in this way. There is little I can look forward to in life."

"But crucifixion..." The Broker considered the idea with fascination growing in his mind. "You do know this is an incredibly painful way to die, and slowly too?"

Nodding her head, the girl responded, "I am more aware than you. It is something I have studied for several years, and been fascinated with. I am something of a masochist, you see. This would not be my first foray into very painful situations. I have actually had a dream, a fantasy if you will, to experience crucifixion first hand. All aspects of it. The humiliation, the muscle pain, dehydration, loss of body control, blood loss, direct nerve agony from the nails, respiration problems, shock, sepsis and potentially broken bones. Shall I go on?"

"No, no... that about covers it." The Broker sat back in his chair and surveyed the bright, beautiful woman that sat before him asking to be tortured to death.

"No, actually, there is quite a bit more, but there is no reason to belabor it. The point is I know what I am talking about. I want to die. I need to die soon before I begin to become dependent on others and can no longer make the choices myself. I have always dreamed of this, and while I won't enjoy it," here the girl smiled wryly, "I think it would be an ideal way for me to go. Not a pitiful shell with a bullet in her brain or quietly going to sleep to never wake, but going out doing something really, profoundly different and meaningful."

"Julie. I am not sure what would be meaningful about this..." The Broker shook his head.

"Besides being meaningful to me personally, I think it would be meaningful to scientific research. There has been debate over the process of crucifixion but you can't really crucify anyone to see what happens. I propose that my death be recorded and monitored for study by science."

And so it was done. A contract was signed, the date identified, the terms and conditions defined, the experience outlined, and money changed hands.


The day before her self-execution Julie went down to the main boulevard where prostitutes were known to hang out. She had been going through a bucket list of things to do before she died, some of them rather strange. The last item was chosen to help prepare herself for her upcoming degradation. She was wearing a short skit showing her strong thin thighs, a tight top that gave a little hint of bare midriff, and shoes with a six inch heel. She walked into one of those bars that was cinder block painted black with a neon sign above it that announced "Girls!". Every man in the bar noticed her as she ordered a beer and it wasn't difficult to pick up one of them. He was about 25 years older than she, overweight, not particularly good looking and offered to pay her a substantial sum to head back to his place. She took it though she didn't need the money. She just wanted to fuck an ugly, slimy old man for money, to sell herself for a little cash.

The man knew just how lucky he was. Julie was no ordinary whore. 5'9" tall, slender, with a tight ass and perfect breasts, the long haired brunette could have been a model. She had an incredible cute girl next door thing going on and presented an air of casual class.

The man sweated and grunted on top of her for 15 minutes, pushing and shoving his cock inside. She wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly, feeling his heaving mass pressing down on her and getting off on feeling completely wanton and cheap. She wished he would hit her, but letting his disgusting flesh slide on her own pale bare skin and enter her holes was enough. She came three times, loudly, before he finally pumped his semen inside her.

The man had been very suspicious when she said she wanted to do it without a condom. Her naked body had finally convinced him. His diseases didn't matter to her. She would be dead in a few days. Now, laying on her back she felt his cum seep out of her and she felt as dirty as she had ever felt; it made her almost wish she could go on picking up random men and selling herself cheaply for the thrill. But she knew that could never last and she had something better to look forward to tomorrow.

Idly stroking him, she got him hard again and slipped down to take him in her mouth. He had a strange taste, and that was fine. She hoped he would force her to take another load down her throat.


The next day Julie got up as normal, showered and shampooed her long hair, and dressed casually but nicely. She put on no makeup (she didn't really need any). Catching a bus to the design company where she worked she turned in her resignation effective immediately. Leaving the boss with his mouth open in surprise she left the building and took the bus to the site where it had been agreed she would be picked up. She didn't know where the crucifixion would actually take place, or even exactly when. She simply knew that she was to turn herself over to The Broker and whomever he had helping him, after which her life and death would be in his hands.

Standing in the empty parking lot of an abandoned K-Mart on the edge of town, Julie saw a plain white van roll up to her. 12 noon, right on time. Two men got out. One was The Broker, the other a large muscular man with a mean face.

"Are you ready?" asked The Broker.

"No one is ever ready for death, but I am probably more ready than most," Julie replied.

She was guided through the open doors in the back of the van and crawled in on her hands and knees. The mean man pushed her down on her stomach and quickly tied her wrists behind her back, then her ankles together, and finally pulled a rope from the ankles to wrists. She was hogtied in no time, a position with which she was familiar; but this time was different. This time she probably would never be free again, at least not in her lifetime. It excited as well as scared her.

Van doors slammed shut and they drove off. Julie rolled over onto her side and waited during the hour long drive. The ropes hurt, and the position was increasingly uncomfortable. Her ordeal had already begun.


They took her to a farm located far into the countryside where no one would find or interrupt them. When the van jolted to a stop in front of a large unpainted wood barn, they were met by two other men in work clothes that stepped around to the back of the van eagerly. They opened the doors and took a look at the young woman, bound and waiting on the floor.

The Broker climbed into the back of the van next to the bound woman and said, "Julie, this is your last chance. One of the basic principles of this experience is that you will no longer have any choice in the matter once we truly begin. You will be abused, hurt, tortured, and eventually die, with no recourse. Your screams will not be answered, your pleas will not be heard. That's the deal you made, and that's what will happen. Decide now. Do you wish to continue?"

Julie stared into The Broker's eyes and after a moment said quietly, "I understand. I am ready. Let's do it."

The Broker licked his lips, stared into her dark eyes for a moment, and then motioned to the men. The three of them dragged the woman out of the van. She landed with a hard thump on the ground. The wind was knocked out of her with a whoosh and a gasp. They dragged her into the barn where the mean man took a huge knife and cut Julie's clothes away. Each ragged piece was tossed into a corner to later be burned. They wouldn't be needed any more.

When all her clothes had been removed and she lay naked on the dirt floor of the barn, the men cut the ropes that held her. Rough hands grabbed her arms, lifted her into a standing position and forced her hands in front of her. Heavy metal shackles were placed on her wrists. They were tight, too tight, and they hurt a lot. Julie cried out in pain as the shackles pinched and pressed her wrists bones cruelly. The mean man laughed when he heard her complaint.

"That's just the beginning, sweetheart," he growled.

The biggest of the men dragged her over to a wooden rail where horses used to be tied up. He pulled her against it, her stomach hitting the rail and pushing the air out again in a sort of grunt. He pulled her chains hard, forcing her to bend over the rail. She looked down into the dirt below her, hair straggling down both sides of her face.

Another of the men stood behind her and kicked the inside of her left shin, knocking her leg out from under her. Her weight came down on the rail again and then the other leg was kicked out. Several more kicks and Julie got the idea. Her legs were to be spread apart. The insides of her shins were hurting bad, so she complied.

A rough voice behind her commented "she sure has a nice tight ass, doesn't she?"

Rough hands grabbed both ass cheeks and spread them wide. A finger was inserted into her anus, removed, and followed by a larger fleshy probe. Without lube, the man's penis wouldn't enter easily, but he was rock hard and pushed and prodded until he gained entry. July was crying from the pain and humiliation. She hadn't expected this, and it was dawning on her that turning herself over for execution meant that these men could do anything to her they wished. And they were.

The man behind her pushed his cock deep inside, feeling the girl's sphincter contracting and relaxing around him. She struggled a little, but there was little she could do. It felt good being inside someone as young and sensual as this naked bitch, and he shoved deeper. In and out he pushed, but when he felt that he might be getting close to an orgasm he pulled out and went for her pussy. Shoving in this looser opening was no problem and he was inside in a moment.

Julie cringed, crying out in protest as she felt the cock withdraw and then enter her vagina. Didn't this bastard know not to put a cock that had been inserted into her anus into her vagina? Infections could result! And then Julie realized, an infection wasn't going to be possible, because she would be dead by the time it took hold. The man pounded away and with a loud grunt ejaculated into her vagina.  Pregnancy wasn't going to be an issue either, she realized, hanging her head.

When the first man was done, a second took his place and used Julie in the same manner. Bent over the rail as she was, her body looked inviting, enticing, shapely, sensual. It didn't take long for the second rape to end with a load of cum inside of her.

The third man requested that she be re-positioned over the rail on her back, pulled backward so that her hips were forced outward and her pubic mound was pushed up. This was done, creating a most sensual and inviting sight for Julie's tormentors, and creating a new and interesting form of pain as the rail dug into the small of her back. The man entered her easily as the semen from the previous two lubricated her liberally. He grabbed and squeezed Julie's breasts and grunted until he came inside of her. When he withdrew, semen escaped and dribbled down the inside of one thigh.

The Broker took her last, and enjoyed the time inside of his victim. Julie experienced new pain and began to struggle in a panicked manner, her arms straining to get free from the men that held her; The Broker's cock was much larger than the others. True to the promise, her struggles and cries were ignored. His jarring penetrations strained and hurt her back, making her think she might break it at any moment. The lips of her pussy surrounded and clung to The Broker's cock as he slid in and out. When he came, The Broker let out a gasp and squeezed her breasts hard, making her whimper, his hips compulsively pushing as deep inside her as he could go.

When they had finished using her, they dragged her away. Half walking, half dragged to the other side of the barn, Julie found herself lifted up with her arms above her head. The short chain that connected the wrist shackles was placed into a hook in a post and when the men let go of her she dropped about a foot and jerked to a stop before her feet touched the ground. Once again, she cried out as her shoulders and wrists took the brunt of her weight, and she dangled in place.

Julie felt her body stretch as she hung in place. Her wrists hurt the most, at first, as the iron wrist bands dug into her flesh. Her shoulders hurt soon after, taking a good bit of the weight of the rest of her body. She thought of hanging from the cross, and wondered if this was what it might feel like. She waited there, hanging,  wondering what would happen next. As she hung there, she thought about what had happened so far, the trip in the van, tied up; the stripping off of her clothes; being raped by four men, and now hanging alone in the barn.


The four men observed the elongated, naked body hanging from the hook in the barn and admired it. It seemed a waste for such a beauty to be given up to the cross. Now that she was naked and displayed before him The Broker had a full appreciation for just how beautiful Julie was. He considered her for a while,  and consoled himself with the knowledge that her suffering would be just as spectacular as violating her had been.

After resting for a while, the men returned and found Julie exactly where they had left her, though her breathing was a bit faster and more labored. She had begun to suffer from hanging on from the post. That was OK, she was supposed to suffer, and in fact they were about to increase her suffering. The tallest and meanest of the men stepped to a wall of the barn and took down a bullwhip from a peg. The other men stood back and watched as he approached, flexing and cracking the whip to limber the woven leather. At the sound of the crack, the girl shuddered as if anticipating the pain that was to come.

The only warning of the coming whip was a slight whistling as it split the air. It slapped against the smooth flesh of the girl with a wet crack. A split second later she tensed every muscle in her body and let out a loud scream which slowly wound down to a sob. The whip sliced through the air again, wrapping around the girl's waist; the end of the whip circled the post in front of her and snapped against the small of her back, cutting the flesh and evoking another scream.

Each strike with the whip marked another place of her body, moving across her back, shoulders, buttocks and thighs. Blood began to flow and her body shook, muscles twitching and convulsing from the pain. Julie screamed again and again as the whip cut her flesh. The man wielding the whip tried to get the tip to snap between her legs, to the side of one breast, and other sensitive parts, playing with the procedure with each stroke.

The stoke count was precise: 39. This was the prescribed number of lashes during Roman times. More than 40 was considered an execution sentence in itself, so in order to make sure they did not miscount and could not be accused of executing a prisoner merely sentenced to a lashing, 39 was the target number. It was enough. Blood streamed from the soft white flesh of the sobbing girl. Even the act of crying was painful now, for it expanded and moved the ragged torn skin of her back.


Julie hung from the post, her entire body in screaming pain from the lashing. She knew this was part of the ritual to which she had agreed but it was so much worse than anything she had imagined. She wasn't even nailed to the cross and she was losing her nerve. Her sobs had words mixed with them, begging, pleading for mercy. She knew there would be no response but the words came anyway. "Please... please stop... Please, I don't want this... forgive me, please no more..."

She was removed from the hook and collapsed on the floor. They removed the shackles that joined her wrists together. No other restraint was needed at this point, she was still weak and recovering from the whipping. Her muscles and joints seemed to slowly move back into place as well, after being stretched in from the suspension. The blood seeped mainly from her back and was slowly stopping. Her front was largely untouched thanks to the post from which she had been hanging.

Laying on the floor of the barn she was unaware of what was happening around her. The men were preparing for the actual crucifixion, though most was already ready. What brought her back to awareness was a sudden loud crash right next to her. A heavy beam had been dropped next to her head. Hands of two of the men grabbed her arms and rolled her over, spreading her arms out against the beam beneath her. Her mind went crazy. Was this the moment? Were they about to drive nails into her? She burst into tears and panicked, screaming, begging, "No, No, Please don't do this, please help me!"

Instead of nails, rope was twisted around her arms, securing them to the beam. When she was tied, the two men lifted the beam up, dragging Julie to a standing position with it. When she was standing in place with the beam across her shoulders, the two men let go. The beam was heavy and Julie was weak; she immediately slipped sideways, fell to her knees and let one end of the beam rest on the floor.

The consequence of falling was a lash from the whip across her neck and breasts. Julie cried out again and was answered by one of the men, "Get up. Carry the cross."

With some help, Julie struggled to her feet, lifting the heavy cross beam, getting it balanced, and standing with it. "Move. Follow The Broker." A hoarse command ordered her to begin walking.

Slowly she moved, keeping the beam balanced and up. When it slipped and she went down again, she was lashed with the whip. Julie no longer thought about why she was there or what was happening, she simply tried to keep the beam up and keep walking to avoid more lashes. She followed the men outside, into a hot sun. Her feet hurt from the hot dirt and rocks, but she had no choice. She kept going, sweat suddenly covering her body and making the beam slippery behind her.

The walked slowly across the yard and then up a small hill to the side of the farm. Julie fell and was whipped several times while climbing the relatively shallow slope. She was fit, but after the rape, the whipping, and with the heavy beam on her shoulders, she found it impossible to keep her footing. When they finally reached the top she collapsed on the ground once again, grateful that she could put the burden down.


"I think we should keep her alive for a while," said one of the men. "She is cute. I mean, look at that body. How often you get a chance to have your very own sex slave for a while, yanno?"

It was a tempting suggestion. Julie was the kind of sensual young woman that any man would be grateful to get inside of, and the idea of having her around for a while was natural. All the men stood looking at the girl laying on the ground trying to catch her breath.

"No, that wasn't the deal," The Broker said firmly. "She is now a convicted and sentenced criminal, and we are duty bound to execute her in a timely manner."

After a moment's silence, The Broker spoke again. "Though I think we could try something a little different and still be within the boundaries of our agreement. Let's hang her upside down for a while."

The mean man laughed out loud, "Inverted crucifixion, of course. Lovely idea. We aren't set up for that, but we can make do."

Julie lay on the ground only half aware of what was being said. She expected nails to be driven into her wrists at any moment and was savoring the rest, laying on the ground. So, when the men started wrapping rope around her body, tying knots and pinioning her legs together, it was a surprise. She raised her head, and found she was able to speak clearly. Her strength was returning.

"Hey. What are you doing? No more, please, let's stop this, somehow."

The men ignored her as they finished tying her body and then threw the remaining rope over the limb of a tree. Julie felt her legs slowly being pulled up, higher and higher until her ass lifted off the ground. She began screaming, "No! NO! What are you doing, I never agreed to this, please, I don't want to continue, have mercy, please..."

Her shoulders dragged on the ground and then with a few final heaves the men pulled her completely up. Julie was hanging on display, upside down, with her arms stretched out on either side of her, still tied to the beam. The beam was heavy and made the whole inverted suspension more painful; the rope dug into her legs and ankles and her shoulders and back hurt.

The men watched the beautiful woman swing back and forth slowly, sweat trickling down her body, over her breasts and sliding onto her neck. Her breasts hung down, facing the ground, making them look a little odd. Her hips stood out sharply as all her internal organs slid away from them and pressed against her diaphragm.

"I'd fuck her face but I wouldn't trust the bitch not to bite me," said one of the men.

"Yeah. But I feel like cumming anyway," said another, unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock. He rubbed it against her face and breasts, getting it hard, and the stroked himself in front of her face until he ejaculated, aiming for her mouth and nose. His semen covered her lips and slowly edged downward into her nostrils, causing the girl to suddenly gasp, choke for air and then blow her nose out trying to expel the slimy fluid.


Julie was not entirely sure what was happening to her. Her body was in pain, though the agony of the whipping was fading. She hung upside down, feeling the unnatural sensation of her organs and breasts pressing toward her head. The beam weighed heavily on her back and shoulders, causing some pain but no agony. She became very aware of where she was and what was happening, and as a result began to feel the humiliation and horror of her situation.

She was helpless. Absolutely helpless, hanging in mid air, being observed by the four men. One of the men had shoved his cock into her face and rubbed it until he spurted cum into her nose. The cum was still inside her sinuses, making it difficult to breath through her nose and tasted terrible. She felt like a piece of meat hanging on a hook, waiting for carving up. This wasn't at all what she had expected.

Even though she was upside down, Julie could still see around the small clearing. Off to the side was a second long beam. This would form the other part of her cross, and brought home the reality of what was happening to her. Her mind raced, knowing she had asked for this and now desperate to find a way out. The progressive disease that would take years to slowly kill her no longer seemed so awful; the immediate, impending doom of crucifixion terrified her.

"Um. Please. I know what I agreed to, but I no longer wish to be crucified. Listen to me. I am rational, I know what I am saying, and I am begging you to hear me. I know I told you to ignore my pleas, but things have changed. Don't..." Julie broke off her attempt to reason with the men when she realized they were paying no attention to her. Two of them were digging a hole near the second beam, The Broker was supervising, and the remaining man was looking at her naked body and playing with his exposed cock.


The men had a picnic after the hole had been finished. It was a fine day, if a little warm, and they ate sandwiches and drank beer a few yards away from where Julie swung back and forth, suspended upside down, awaiting final processing. She remained lovely even in the inverted position, a delightful young woman. She alternated between begging for the men to release her and crying.

Finally, it was time. The men stood and brushed off their clothes and hands and then returned to where Julie hung. The Broker released the rope and brought the girl down to the ground where she began rolling around, attempting to get up. The wide beam made it virtually impossible, but was fun to watch for a while.

"Well, we had better get to it," the mean looking man said, and went to get the large mallet and spikes that would be used to nail the girl to the cross. When he returned, two of the other men positioned themselves over the girl's left arm, holding it tight so the nail would go in clean.


Julie knew that the time had arrived. She was about to be nailed. The ultimate experience of her life was reaching its climax, and pain greater than she had ever known would soon be hers. She was a masochist, but this scared her. She began crying, sobbing, begging once again, as they held her arm tightly. She felt the sharp point of the steel spike as it was pressed against the heel of her palm. She screamed in fear before the hammer came down, her fingers clenching and unclenching.

With a squishy thunk the mallet hit the spike and penetrated deep into her flesh. It took a moment before the pain hit, as if her body couldn't believe it had been violated in this way. Finally, the sensation of her wrist bones separating into pieces to allow the spike passage exploded in agony and she screamed again, rolling her head to the side. "AAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAA!!!"

She didn't hear the second or third mallet strikes but did feel them; the bones in her wrist were shattering and then being pushed apart as the spike exited her flesh on the other side.

The mallet struck again and again, driving the spike through into the wood below her wrist. The spike had entered the heel of her hand, but had exited from the arm slightly above the wrist. The angle was planned to prevent her from coming loose from the spike. It also did quite a bit of damage, shattering bones in her hand and wrist, embedding the nail in enough heavy bone material that she would not come loose by shredding and tearing free.

Once the spike was firmly embedded in the wood below, the two men holding her wrist released it and stepped back. Julie's hand was firmly nailed in place. There was almost no blood, and just about an inch of nail exposed, sticking out from the flesh. The girl's hand didn't move; it had taken on the look of a claw, fingers curled and stuck in position.

The men moved to where Julie's right arm was still tied to the beam. Julie was aware of them standing over her, holding her wrist, and knew what to expect this time. She gasped when she felt the point of the spike positioned against her flesh and then held her breath, turning her head away.

Thunk, the mallet hit the spike and pain exploded in Julie's right hand. She let out the breath she had been holding in a long scream, which wasn't even finished when the mallet hit the spike again, cracking bones and pressing on raw nerves. Over and over again the mallet came down until the second spike was deep inside the wood.


The men stepped back and viewed the agonized girl. She no longer struggled. Simply laying on the ground with her arms stretched out and nailed to the beam, she looked sensual, sexy, enticing. She writhed from the waist down from the pain, but where the bean ran under her shoulders and pressed her body up she looked obscenely like a stripper exposing her breasts for an audience.

"Let's get the two cross pieces attached," said The Broker. Two of the men grabbed the beam below Julie's arms and dragged it over to the other beam nearby. Julie was dragged along with it, sobbing all the way. Positioning the cross beam with Julie's arms just at the end of the other beam, the men inserted the two together with a notch that had been prepared before. Once in place, several more spikes secured the two beams together. The cross was complete, but Julie was only nailed to the top part.

"This is hard work. Let's take a break," complained one of the men.

"No. Let's get this over with then rest," replied another.

"Yeah. We need to do her feet and then get her up. Let's do it," said The Broker.

Taking Julie's left leg they forced her knee into a bent position and flattened her foot against the upright beam. The Broker took another spike and positioned it at the top of the foot near the ankle. Carefully aiming the mallet and angling the nail, he slammed the nail through the soft flesh. The girl's body shuddered and she cried out as the nail was pounded though her foot, breaking and separating bones along the way. Because her foot was thicker than her hands, the nail was driven all the way until the head was almost even with her flesh. This was to make sure it was embedded securely in the beam below.

The process was repeated with her other foot. She offered little resistance, and in little time, the girl was nailed to the cross in the proper position. Arms outstretched, legs bent at the knee and straight down against the wood beam. Julie could not move away from this basic position, though her hips and chest were capable of some limited movement.

Now that she was secured with nails, The Broker removed the ropes that bound her arms to the cross. She lay there, naked and in the open, as if nothing held her in place unless you looked closely and saw the ends of the spikes protruding from her white flesh. Then men stepped back and rested for a moment. It wasn't terribly hot but the mid-afternoon sun had made them sweat as they performed the crucifixion. They each grabbed a beer.


Julie was laying in position on the ground, her hands and feet balls of pain that were now throbbing horribly. The initial pain of the nailing had subsided and been replaced by a deep ache. Any movement created a sudden shock of nerve pain as the spikes would rub against tendons and nerves, especially in her wrists. Her body was now screaming at her, telling her that something was horribly wrong, that she needed to run and get away, but she couldn't. She was locked down in place, nailed down, and it felt as wrong as anything she had felt in her life.

Above Julie were the branches of a tree. A bird was singing there, above her. The green branches waved slowly in a light breeze with the deep blue sky above her. How could she have ever thought she could do this? The bird pooped and it landed on her face, staying there. Unable to wipe the bird shit from her face, the despair of the situation, the horrible torment she had embarked upon, struck her and she sobbed once again.

The men returned and stared down at her. She didn't beg any more. Once the nails had gone in, there was no hope. Her hands and feet were shattered and there was no way they would ever let her go. The process of her death had begun. She was already dying.

"I wanna fuck her one more time," grunted one of the men.

"Sure if you can squeeze in there," said The Broker.

Julie watched has the man dropped his pants, his hard erection popping up, ready to go. He knelt across the cross, just below her knees, and then pushed them apart. This caused her feet to twist and press against the nails that were embedded inside them. A shock of pain rippled up from her feet to her shins and Julie cried out in agony, "AAAaaaahhhgggggrrrgggggg...."

She was still wet and slippery from the cum remaining in her vagina and the man slipped in easily. Each push jostled her feet and made her grunt in pain. The man leaned far over her, looking in her eyes, watching the pain in her face as he fucked her. It didn't take long for him to climax and spurt more semen inside of her. He withdrew, pulled his pants up, and said, "That babe is mighty fine. I can tell she has no hope left. Quite an experience. Let's get her up."


The men dragged the cross into position. Julie wasn't crying out any more, just breathing heavily. They got the cross in place with the end close to the hole they had dug.

"This is gonna be hard," said one of the men.

"That's what she said," said The Broker, nodding toward Julie. All the men laughed. "No, there is a plan to this. Go get those ropes over there. We tie them to the top and use them to help us lift the cross up into place."

They tied the ropes to the cross piece; then two of the men pulled on the cross using the ropes while two of the men lifted the heavy wood beams directly. The bottom slid into the hole and they slowly raised the cross to the upright position. When the cross was at about 45 degrees, Julie's body began to slide down and the rough wood dug splinters into her already wounded and bleeding back. She cried out once again, "aAAGEEGGGGghgggg! Aaaag! AAAA! AAH!"

The cross slid further down into the hole the higher the cross rose. When it hit the vertical position, it sunk deep with a Thunk. The cross went down about a foot and jerked to a stop. Julie's body was jerked violently down and stopped by the nails in her wrists. She twisted in agony, her hips moving to the side and then back again, crying out as the nails in her wrists pressed and dug against broken bone and ragged nerves.  The twisting motion of her hips forced the cross forward slightly, for the hole was a little too wide for the beam and she hung forward by her wrists and ankles, dangling and gurgling in torment.

"Whoa! Whoa! Don't let it tip over!" The men grabbed the cross and pushed it back up. One of them began filling in the extra space of the hole with dirt. "Get some of those wedges and drive them in to get a nice tight support at the bottom." The foot long wedges were brought over and pounded into place with the mallet. Before long, the cross was sturdily in place, and Julie was hanging upright from her wrists, staring wide eyed at the world about her but seeing little as the pain in her body throbbed and spread.


It was so much worse than anything she had ever imagined. The pain from the spikes in her wrists was just the beginning. Once she was hanging, the spiked pressed on the broken bones, causing more agony. Those bones were sharp and in turn dug into exposed nerves, causing more pain, and so on. She was a slim girl but all her weight was now suspended from her shoulders at an odd angle and cramping was setting in across her arms and shoulders. This spread rapidly across her chest as she hung, gasping for air.

The sun was most of the way down. The whole process had taken about four hours. She wondered how long before she would lose consciousness for the last time and leave the pain behind. It would be a while, she knew. She tried moving her body to relieve some of the pressure causing her agony in her wrists. It simply caused the agony to increase as the spikes shifted and pushed inside her hands and wrists. She screamed briefly and then went back into the position she was in before. That hurt even worse; no matter what she did the pain seemed to follow her and find new and diabolical ways to torment her.

The cramping spread across the entire upper half of her body. She suddenly remembered what she knew about crucifixion; victims often pushed themselves up to relieve the cramping and stress from the nailed arms. She took a deep breath and tried this, pushing down against her nailed feet.

The agony suddenly shifted from her upper body to her feet and legs as the spikes pressed upward. She almost instantly gave up and sank back down. This renewed the pressure on her wrists and back and she moaned again.

Julie's entire body was covered with a shiny wet sheen. In some places, the sweat gathered and trickled down. The sensation of trickling tickled her, but she could do nothing. She endured the itching and tickling. Flies came, attracted by the drying blood and sweat. She felt them crawling around, at the corners of her eyes and mouth, across her breasts. She wanted to swat them away, to scratch, but couldn't. She was nailed in place. She couldn't move. Instead, she shook her head, driving them away for a moment.


The men sat back and watched Julie as she hung. It was amazing how much she moved, though it was all in small, jerky movements. Twisting her body, pressing her hips sensually out and then back, trying to lift herself, shaking her head until the hair shook forward and stuck to her sweaty face and neck. The Broker watched and mused at just how gorgeous this woman was. Much more alluring, much more sensual than the pristine bitch that had paid him and signed the contract just a few days before. Was it her nakedness? Or her torment, knowing the pain she was in? Maybe the way she moved?

It was all of these things. The men watched as Julie gave up and simply hung in place, too tired to try anything any more. Her stomach moved in and out as she breathed, and her breasts wobbled slightly, otherwise she was motionless.

Then it began again-- the slow movements designed to try and find a position that hurt just a little less. Once she even spread her legs slightly, plainly showing her pussy and the slimy residue of cum that continued to seep from her holes.

Eventually, with much effort and cries, Julie pushed herself into a semi-upright position. Her face was a mask of pain, and it didn't last long. The muscles in her legs and stomach shook from the effort to remain up, and finally gave out. She slumped back down, too quickly, for she jerked back down onto her wrists and yelled in pain when she came to an abrupt halt. Every muscle in her body strained and stood out, as if she was made of ropes covered with smooth flesh. The flesh of her body stretched against her ribs and hips, showing their shape clearly.

The Broker approached his victim. She was suspended about 2 feet higher than he, so he tilted his head up to where her face hung. She saw and recognized him. "How long?" she asked.

"How long until you die?" He asked. "I don't know. I don't think they knew in Roman times, either. Each person is different. But I think you are a strong, healthy girl. I suspect you have a day or two ahead of you, at least."

Julie grimaced and tears ran down her face. The Broker reached out and placed his hand on her cheek, and then slowly ran it down her neck, over her breast, across her stomach, and finally pressed it between her legs. Julie flushed in humiliation at his unrestricted access to her body.

A few minutes later Julie lost bladder control. She didn't intend to but somehow her body simply let loose a stream of urine onto the ground. When she became aware of what she was doing she cried out and sobbed in humiliation, tried unsuccessfully to stop the stream of urine, and finally sank down in despair, shuddering as a new round of nerve pain shot from her hands through her shoulders and upper back.

As the evening turned dark, three of the men went home for the evening to eat dinner, sleep in their beds and rest. The last stayed the evening to make sure there was no interference with the victim during the night.


With darkness, the air grew cold around Julie's bare skin. She was naked and exposed and the cold slowly ate through her flesh and seemed to settle in her bones. With arms spread and legs separated she was open to the cold over her entire body, unable to huddle and warm herself. The pain she was experiencing had gotten worse, the cramping and aches and sudden electric shocks of nerve pain spreading and becoming more pervasive. She moaned off and on, sometimes crying out and others simply hanging, concentrating on breathing.

What impacted her most was how incredibly wrong the entire situation felt. Her entire body was screaming out at her, warning her that things were bad, incredibly bad, that she needed to fix them. The cold was horrible but she could not move to cover herself. Her hands and arms were developing infections and hurting horribly, but she could not care for them. She needed sleep, but could not sleep. Her stomach and bowels were trying to digest and process her last meal but were losing the ability to do so, causing horrible abdominal cramping. Being hung outside, naked and unable to do anything but slowly die from exposure was breaking her mind in two.

The man that was staying to watch her became bored after a while, sitting in a lawn chair, and began to snore.

Halfway through the night Julie defecated. It was loud, a splattering of lumpy diarrhea and gas. The stench rose to her nostrils. Her buttocks and the backs of her thighs were splattered. She wanted to clean herself, but couldn't. She thought of just how strange this was, to be immobilized without any bondage at all. It wasn't that odd to be tied up and unable to move. Hanging in the freezing cold here, with no ropes or straps, and yet still unable to move in any meaningful way, was profoundly disturbing.

The night wore on and Julie's senses were dulled. Exhaustion set in and she found that while she could not sleep, her mind withdrew from reality and played tricks on her. Thoughts drifted, and she imagined she was in a hospital, dying in a bed in the hall but none of the nurses or doctors would pay attention to her. She imagined her ex-boyfriend standing before her, laughing and touching her in lewd ways as she begged him to let her down. The disgusting old man she had sold herself to as her last sexual encounter took her from behind again, fucking her up the ass, except his cock burned with a fire that consumed her guts in flame.

It felt like she had been suspended on the cross for days when the dark blue slowly turned to an orange glow and the sun peaked over the horizon. From where she hung she had a beautiful view of the sunrise, but it gave her no pleasure. She wondered if it would be her last. She hoped it would be.


When the three men straggled in later that morning, they found the one who stood guard sleeping in his lawn chair. "Whew! What stinks? Did she die during the night and start rotting?" The Broker was waving his hand in front of his face.

The man heaved himself out of the lawn chair and grumbled, "Nah. She just peed and shit herself. She's still plenty alive."

As if to prove his point, Julie struggled to raise herself up on the cross once again, her leg and arm muscles working to pull and push, her body twisting to the side during the struggle. As she gained the upright position her head flopped back and she took deep breaths, her chest and breasts heaving up and down seductively.

"I can't stand the stench. Get the hose," The Broker said. He turned on the water pressure and sprayed off Julie's soiled flesh and the cross behind her. It improved the smell significantly.

"Thirsty..." Julie spoke from the cross, the first time in several hours.

"What's that?" The man closest to her looked up at her dripping wet body.

"Thirst. Please... water... please..."

It was true; Julie's lips were dry and split. She had not had water in 24 hours, and the dehydration from the sun and blood loss was significant. In fact, it was possible she might die of thirst sometime soon.

The Broker came over to her and tilted his head up to her face. She sagged down to where her face was almost even with his. "No, dearest. You are going to die from exposure here, and thirst is a big part of it. You are supposed to be thirsty. You are supposed to be so thirsty you die from it."

Julie cried dry tears, sobbing, but nodded her head. A tiny bit of urine trickled out from between her legs, as if her body was trying to hang on to whatever moisture it could. "I never thought it would be... this... bad..."

"I know, dear. It is why you committed before hand. It's what you wanted, remember?"

"Yes... this is what I wanted..." she croaked.

An hour later she raised her head and said something. Her voice no longer served her well and The Broker moved close to listen.

"How.... long...." she rasped.

"Soon now, very soon." The Broker ran his hand over her body once again.

The morning continued with Julie remaining mostly motionless except for her occasional struggles to raise herself up. As cold as the night had been, the sun now beat down on her naked skin and burned it. She was red from the sunburn, first pink and then an angry red.

In the mid-afternoon, the biggest of the men sat looking at the woman's struggled breathing, and said "I wish we could fuck her once more and then take her out of her misery. Her body sure looks good but man, she must be in agony."

The Broker was sitting in thought. Finally he said, "I think it is time."

The other men looked at him with puzzlement as he got up and went down to the barn. He returned with an old, rusty bar from a scrap heap. He went up to Julie and spoke to her briefly, the other men didn't hear what was said, but saw her nod.

The Broker stepped back and then wielded the iron bar like a baseball bat. Swinging with with all his might he struck Julie's left leg in the center of the shin. It made a sickening soft thud and crack, leaving the leg at an odd angle. Julie's head jerked back and she screamed, a hoarse, raspy scream and then sank back down.

A second swing and her right leg was broken. She screamed again, but her lack of strength and hoarse voice was no longer enough to sustain the cry. She collapsed back down.

"Why'd ya do that?" asked one of the men angrily.

"Old Roman tradition. It isn't known if it was to cause more pain and humiliation or to speed death, but breaking the legs is something they did after a while. In her case... it's to speed her death."

The men nodded somberly.

Julie no longer raised herself up to breathe. She simply hung in place.

Around sunset The Broker went up close to the cross and observed Julie closely. She hadn't moved in some time. He placed his hand on her chest, and felt nothing. There was no sign of breathing. She had died, quietly, after losing consciousness some time before.

"We can go home now. Let her hang there for a day or two, the birds will come pick on the body. Back here, 9:00 AM in two days, we will burn what is left."

The men went home. The memory of the girl's decision, along with the consequential agony and death, followed them home. The video from the execution was kept secret for many years, though it eventually made its way into certain circles of the internet. It's impact was wide and varied. For some it inspired sadistic or masochistic tendencies. For many, it constituted a depressing reminder of man's cruel past and a decision to move forward, reaffirming commitment to human rights and justice throughout the world. For a few, it was an enlightening scientific and historical exercise.

Two of the men involved with Julie's suicide committed suicide themselves within a year. Another was arrested and sentenced to life imprisonment on an unrelated charge. The Broker disappeared, and it is not known what happened to him.