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, 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.
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.