Sunday, November 30, 2014

Justice and punishment

Aureleus watched the woman's naked body spread out before the crowd that watched in mixed horror, excitement, and amusement. He had no doubt a few in the crowd also watched with lust. The woman hanging from the wooden cross was certainly beautiful, and the natural stretching and pulling of her body in the crux position accentuated her sexuality in rather macabre ways.

The girl's screams had died down and become loud moans, gasps and grunts; the song of the freshly crucified. At this point the condemned were still fully conscious, feeling the sharp pain and trying to cope with it however they could. The dance had begun, and she twisted in place, thrusting naked hips out, pulling them back, testing the position of her upper body and the limits of weight and motion on the spikes that held her to the cross. The victims were always driven to test the limits, trying to find a more comfortable (or less excruciatingly painful) position. After an hour or two of struggling, they settled down and simply hung, until the need to breathe forced them to move involuntarily.

He had seen it many times before, though not often with as beautiful a young woman as this. That was precisely the reason he was here, in the province of Dacia. Rumors of the unusual number of crucifixions had reached Rome. No one really cared about that, really. Local governors such as the prelate in Dacia had to be free to discipline their own people in the way that was necessary to keep order. No, what had raised eyebrows was who was being crucified.

In the past year, ten young women under the age of 21 had met their death on the cross. 13 young men under the age of 25. Older men? Only one, a notorious murderer who had been caught and executed. The disproportionate number of strong young men and women finding their fate on the cross was unusual and had caused some attention to be focused on Dacia.

Now Aureleus watched an example of what was causing the rumors. A simply gorgeous, strong, naked young girl was slowly struggling her way toward death, a death that was probably two or three days away. It was a remarkable display, and he had to admit he was more than a little aroused at the sight himself as the girl thrust her hips out again, showing her soft sex clearly, before screaming and pulling her hips back and slumping over, letting her heavy breasts fall and dangle forward.

The crucified always twisted and writhed in this way. It didn't matter who they were, male or female. Unless they had been beaten unconscious, they writhed in the most sensual, piteous way.

The trial had been quick. He had watched as two men accused the girl of killing a man in his bed and robbing him. The evidence was shaky at best, but the prelate had seemed convinced and sentenced the woman to death, to be carried out immediately.

A distinctly unusual aspect to the trial was the presence of the prelate's wife, Julia. Aureleus had never seen such a thing before. True, she simply sat by her husband's side and observed, but her mere presence at such a proceeding seemed... inappropriate.

And now, both the prelate and his wife stood with the crowd, watching the condemned girl as she struggled with agony. They seemed mutually interested. Yes, crucifixion was a horrible display that was at once sickening and fascinating. Still... Aurelius thought for a bit, looking at the husband and wife pressing their bodies against each other as they watched. There was something off here.

Aureleus turned abruptly away from the girl writhing on the cross and walked down the hill, past brush and trees that kept the top of the hill from being observed directly from the city. He was going to meet the centurion.


They met at a tavern, a small house on the edge of the city that served outlying farmers and a few travelers from the main road. They each had a mug a wine, and though Aurelius drank almost nothing, the centurion was drinking enough for both of them and rapidly getting drunk.

"Yeah, I supervise a lot of the executions around here. It isn't anything to be proud of, but it's an easy job. Makes me feel a little weird, though."

"And why is that, my friend?" Aurelius refilled the centurion's cup.

"Eh... well, I really shouldn't say. It's personal. Private, like, you know? Not something one talks about when you are in the military."

"Ah, so it is a military thing, eh?"

"No. No, no... I mean, it's just that I must have a certain loyalty to my superiors, ya know..." The centurion was getting drunker.

"I see. It has something to do with the prelate?"

"Well... it's both of them. They are both in it. Yanno, they are both people to watch out for, if you know what I mean"

"Both of them?"

"Him and his wife. The young pretty one, the waif. She has a dark streak in her, though."

Aurelius nodded knowingly. "Yes, I know them. Their type. Just a little... well, not normal."

"HA! Not normal? They are perverted. Do you know, I think they hand select some of the victims, just to get strong ones that will last, and good looking ones too. I don't know how they do it, but we always get these strong, beautiful people to nail to the tree. A lot of 'em, women, too, How many women get crucified in Rome, huh? Here, it's almost half. Seven in the last six months. And what they do..."

Aurelius leaned forward. "And what do they do?"

"God... I shouldn't say. They send me away. But they visit the execution hill at night, when no one is around. The two of them, together. The procurator and that girl that is his wife. They send the guards away. I don't know what they do. But... oh, fuck, what could they be doing?" The centurion looked out the window, took another swallow of wine and leaned back on his wooden chair with a creak.

"You've never seen what they do?"

"Well.... once. Maybe twice. It isn't something I would talk about."

"Tell me. I am curious! You can't lead me on like this, you must at least give me a hint." Aurelius was talking in a private, friendly manner, as if the conversation were between two good friends and confidants. More wine was poured.

"They do stuff. To the victims. Sexual stuff. They tease them. I've seen them masturbate a man until he spilled his seed on the ground, all the while he was moaning with agony and begging for mercy. Never thought it could happen. And once, I saw his wife, Julia, actually climb up and ride a man, fucking him right there on the cross. It was obscene, made me feel dirty. They do stuff to the women too, I am sure."

Aurelius sat back and thought for a moment. This was worse than he thought. No stranger to debauchery himself, he knew the depths to which some rulers would sink to satisfy their perversions. But this was dangerous. The populace would find out, if they didn't suspect already, and it would cause trouble.

A few more details spilled from the centurion's mouth before he sagged into unconsciousness. Apparently, the prelate and his wife were notorious for selecting prime candidates for execution and then assuring that the evidence dictated their conviction. The situation was serious; he would talk to some of the local administrators, but this couldn't continue.


After speaking with many of the administrators, it became clear the situation was worse than Aurelius had suspected. The area was on the verge of revolt, incensed by the debauchery of the ruler and his young wife, as well as their neglect of the truly needful governance that needed attention.

Aurelius sat in a large room at the palace, and had the prelate and his wife brought in.

"What is this!? Who are you, and what are you doing having me escorted by my own guards in my own home!?" The prelate was red faced angry as he was led in front of Aurelius. Julia, the wife, simply stood with a white, frightened face behind her husband, flanked by two soldiers.

"My dear prelate. My name is Antonus Aurelius and I am a judge sent as representative of the Emperor.  My business here is short and will be taken care of quickly. I have spoken with a number of people in the city, administrators, soldiers, religious and political leaders. Your governorship of this area has deteriorated in the last several years, and if something is not done now, Rome will have to deal with a revolt, a thing I will not allow to happen."

"Nonsense. Nonsense! I have discipline well in hand. Who are these liars, these traitors that dare slander me?!"

"It doesn't matter. The investigation is concluded and I act on my authority as representative of the Emperor. You and your wife are to be executed this afternoon, on the cross, nailed and hung there until you are dead, and for three days thereafter."

Soldiers grabbed the prelate and his wife and dragged them away, the prelate screaming, his young wife sobbing.

Aurelius sighed. It would be a few hours before the crucifixion. The soldiers always liked to have their way with the condemned before the actual execution took place. He turned to dine on a plate of cold lamb, grapes, and rice.


The centurion looked at Aurelius in shock, not quite able to accept what he had heard.

"Can you do it?" Aurelius asked of the soldier. "Is it feasible? Logistically, mechanically, I mean."

The centurion considered for a moment and then nodded. "Yes. Yes, I can see how it can be done. I suppose we will need some extra men to hold them in place while we nail them, but it can be done."

Aurelius nodded, pleased with the answer. "All right. Let it be done, then. Let justice be served."

The centurion snapped to attention, saluted, and left.


The prelate hung from the wall, his wrists in chains, as he watched his young wife's clothing torn from her body by the soldier. She screamed, ranted, cursed, and swore that she would revenge herself on them, but it made no difference. She was now the condemned, and was being treated like one.

Thrown down on the ground, two of the soldiers grabbed her legs and pulled them apart while a third one climbed on top of her, exposed his hardened member, and impaled her between her thighs. She didn't cry, but instead tried to head-butt the solider. He grabbed her throat and continued pushing, her body jostling and bouncing back and forth from his thrusts.

When the first soldier had ejaculated a load of slimy fluid into the prelate's wife, he switched position and let another soldier have a chance at the lovely young girl. While Julia was a thin, pretty young girl, she had a temper and will of steel and fought every soldier that mounted her. Nevertheless, five soldiers left their semen inside of her before all was done. It seeped out and down her legs in a shiny stream when she was chained to the wall next to her husband.

"You have an hour or so. We'll be back for the next part of the show." A soldier shut the door on the couple as they left.

Julia's beautiful naked body hung from chains attached to the stone wall. The chains were short enough and anchored high enough it was impossible to sit on the floor, and she sagged down, weakened by the abuse recently heaped on her.  The prelate observed her with lust; she always aroused him and now, chained and helpless as she was, raped and abused, she seemed all the more sensual and beautiful. He wondered why he had never thought of crucifying her himself. What an amazing thing that would have been!

It was still hard for either of them to believe they were to be executed on the cross. It quickly became more real when the soldiers returned an hour later, unchained them from the wall and forced them outside, where a heavy beam lay on the ground waiting for them.

"No, no! NO! You can't do this! I am the wife of the prelate, and I have done nothing!" Julia, struggling naked against the soldiers, screamed protests. It didn't matter. She was thrown on the ground and her arms forced apart and tied to the heavy wood beam.

"Get up! Get up and carry your cross!" The soldiers yelled at her, and when she resisted, one tall man took a whip and savagely sliced it across her breasts. They jiggled as she screamed from the impact and a red stripe appeared immediately. A second lash landed across her stomach, and another around her side. Julia struggled, tears streaming down her face, and finally managed to reach a standing position. The wooden beam was incredibly heavy and she was just barely able to keep it aloft without slipping to one side or another.

The prelate observed all this, restrained in chains but completely engrossed in watching his beautiful naked wife whipped, tied to a wooden crosspiece and forced to walk. He felt an erection growing, his arousal taking hold in spite of his despair and anger.

They walked out of the palace gate onto the road toward the execution hill. Julia was in the front of the group, naked and struggling to carry the heavy beam. Her struggles were evident in her body; the muscles observable straining through the flesh of her back and the back of her legs as she took each step and tried to keep the heavy beam aloft. Whenever she slowed or tried to rest, the soldier in front of her whipped her, lashing the leather around her body and yanking it away, stripping flesh away and leaving thin red stripes. Behind, the prelate walked in chains watching the show before him, a rock hard erection showing now and then as his robe drifted in the wind. His wife seemed more beautiful than ever, now that she was stripped, tied and tortured before him.

The centurion met the procession at the top of the hill. A crowd waited there. News of the crucifixion had spread rapidly, and the crowd was so thick most people could see nothing. They would have to be satisfied to simply hear the screams of the condemned.

Julia sank to her knees, letting the beam slide to the side, and then fell to the ground. The prelate watched as the soldiers, led by the centurion, dragged the long centerpiece of the cross next to where she lay on the ground. They untied Julia from the beam and it dropped to the ground, as did Julia, her exhausted but beautiful figure laying next to the wood on the ground.

It suddenly struck the prelate that there was only one cross piece, only one post, only one cross. His nude and whipped wife had carried the burden, and he had been so absorbed in the amazing sensuality of the sadistic display that he had not realized... there was no cross for him! His heart leaped, he suddenly understood. His wife Julia was the perverse one; she was being executed. While he was in shackles and undoubtedly would lose his position, the depravity of the past years would fall on her shoulders. The prelate heaved a sigh of relief and watched the show as the cross piece was nailed to the upright beam, forming the cross.

When the cross was constructed and ready the centurion gave the order and Julia was dragged over, turned onto her back, and placed on top. She struggled, but there were several soldiers that forced her arms out into position and held her in place as she kicked and yelled. She did not beg for mercy, instead she swore and threatened. This appeared to simply amuse the centurion.

With another motion, the centurion ordered the guards next to the prelate into motion. They grabbed his arms and pushed him to the cross. The prelate was confused at first. What were they doing? He didn't understand, why were they forcing him to the cross where his wife lay, ready for the nails?

He resisted and the soldiers grabbed his arms, forcing him forward. As he stood next to the cross, looking down at his wife's tear stained face, the prelate felt his robe being ripped from his body. He yelled, demanding to know what they were doing. Moments later he stood naked, his clear erection standing out for all to see. As humiliated as he was by this, his penis continued to stand at attention, pulsing slightly over his wife's naked legs.

The soldiers forced the prelate to his knees, dragging one of his legs over his wife's legs so he straddled her. He continued to struggle, but with five large men holding him, there was little he could do. His wife's naked body lay below him, and slowly the prelate was forced down on top of her, facing her. His erection pressed against her thighs, his face met hers. Julia grunted with the weight of the prelate's body as it was held on top of her. It was an incredibly erotic display, the beautiful young girl laying beneath the older man that faced her as if they were about to copulate. Two soldiers had even grabbed and separated Julia's legs so that they extended wide on either side of the prelate.

The prelate's arms were grabbed and forced up to where Julia's arms were held in position. His body now roughly conformed in position to hers, with their arms raised above their heads, against the cross.

Three men held Julia's left arm and the prelate's right arm in place as the centurion placed the point of a heavy spike against the prelate's forearm. A second before the hammer fell, the prelate realized what was happening. With careful positioning and aim, the centurion brought the hammer down on the spike with full force, penetrating the prelate's forearm, cracking his wrist bones. The prelate screamed with the sudden shock of agony, spewing spittle into the face of his wife. A second later the hammer struck again, and this time it was Julia that screamed as the spike entered her wrist, smashing it in the same manner as her husbands.

Husband and wife both struggled, flailing, screaming and writhing on the ground as the spike was driven through their wrists and into the wood beneath. The crowd made a noise, perhaps of horror, perhaps of satisfaction. Those in the back strained to listen to the nuance of the vocal agony expressed by their former rulers, wondering and imagining what the scene must look like.

Now the soldiers turned their attention to Julia's right arm and the prelate's left. They held them in position, making sure the prelate's wrist did not roll out of place over the smaller, more delicate arm of his wife. The centurion positioned the spike, then brought the mallet down hard, driving the spike all the way through the prelate's left wrist and part way into Julia's soft, weak flesh. Both victims continued their screams, their bodies pressed against each other, moving and thrashing about, but held in place by the soldiers.

Their writhing seemed overtly sexual to those that watched; the two naked bodies in the position of intercourse, her legs bent and spread and his hips on hers. They struggled together, heaving up and down, testing the strength of the spikes and reacting to the pain, but it looked as if they were writhing in sexual ecstasy.

Attention turned toward the condemned's feet. Now that they were secured to the cross by their wrists, the writhing of the condemned's limbs was troublesome but easier for the soldiers to control. Grabbing the prelate's left leg they bent the knee and forced the ankle along the side of the cross's upright beam. Then Julia's shapely right leg was forced wide to the side, away from her body. Her knee was bent and the sole of her foot placed against her husband's ankle. Held in this position, the centurion placed the spike above the top of Julia's bare foot, pressed the point into the flesh, and then hammered.

Screams and cries rang out once again as the couple had their feet nailed to the cross, knees bent. The prelate's legs protruded forward on either side of the cross, under Julia's thighs. Julia's legs were splayed wide apart, forced into the position by her nailed feet.

The soldiers took a brief rest as the couple lay on the wooden cross, sobbing but no longer writhing. The prelate simply moaned, but is wife spit obscenities toward the various soldiers and officials, the pain heightening her anger and manifesting itself as screams of rage instead of cries of pain.

Finally it was time to raise the victims into the air, on display for the crowd to see more easily. Several soldiers lifted the cross from its top, sliding the base toward the hole in the ground that had been prepared earlier. As they lifted higher the base caught in the hole and the two victims rose into view of the crowd for all to see. Their naked, sweaty bodies hung from the crossbeam, the beautiful woman with legs forced apart, the older but fit man hanging in front of her, facing her.

As the base of the cross slipped several feet into the hole the couple descended and jerked to a stop, their weight dragging and yanking on their nailed wrists. This produced new volumes of screams from both of them. At last the crucifixion was complete; the couple hung above the ground in view of the entire crowd in the obscene position into which they had been nailed. The citizens moved, jockeying for position to get the best view of Julia's body, her naked breasts pressed against the chest of the prelate, or even the prelates still erect penis where it pushed against his wife's genitals.

Never had the crowd witnessed such a humiliating execution scene.


Julia hung from the cross, sweating profusely with the intense heat of the day and the oppressive feeling of her husband's body held close to hers, and felt his cock pulsing between her legs. He disgusted her, as he had always disgusted her. He was old, and weak and perverted and had dragged her down into this abyss of perversion that was ending on the cross. The feeling of his cock made her sick, though it could be the dehydration and heat. Her hands were numb, arms a single bundle of agonizing, cramping pain that was invading her shoulders. Her feet hurt terribly, as well.

Still, the feeling of his cock aroused her, even as she hung from the tree. He had always been large, and the feeling of his member against her flesh brought back old sexual feelings. The crowd around her observed her every move, pleasuring from her agony. It was humiliating. Strangely, the humiliation aroused her further, and the cock between her legs and the humiliation together was making her... well... wet.


With a grunting of pain, the prelate lifted his hips slightly, the effort causing shock waves of pain to rip through his legs. But he was also rewarded by the feeling of his cock sliding up between Julia's thighs. The feeling of excitement mixed with his pain in a way he didn't understand, but he could feel the soft folds of her pussy just touching the sensitive glans of his cock, and this urged him on further. Another shock of pain and loud grunt and he was inside her. She reacted by moaning, either from pain or pleasure, or more probably both.

He began to thrust. It wasn't easy. They were held in place by nails, and the nails scraped and crushed bone and tendon with every small movement. In fact, it caused them both horrible pain. But there was also pleasure; their bodies pressed together in a sexual dance of pain as he thrust and she rode his cock on the cross. Julia was panting, gasping, her chest and breasts heaving up and down against him. Her head sank forward, face resting on his shoulder, a position they had experienced many times in the privacy of their bedroom. Their sweaty flesh slid and slipped against each other as they moved.

The pain was horrible. Searing, agonizing waves came over the prelate as he thrust into his wife. But the promise of one last orgasm in this life was enough to draw him on. He felt Julia shudder with pleasure as she climaxed. Seconds later he ejaculated inside her, semen spurting up straight up, contractions pulsing with one of the most intense orgasms of his life.

When it was over, he slumped down a few inches, the nails in his wrists digging into the muscles and scraping broke bone. He screamed and passed out, losing consciousness from the pain.


Julia watched as the crowd gathered around them, talking and laughing excitedly. She felt faint. It was inconceivable, having her husband penetrate and fuck her while she hung nailed from a cross in public, hundreds of people watching and observing their pain and sexual intimacy. The prelate hung in front of her, unconscious. His semen was oozing out of her now, tricking down her right leg.

Strange how with all this pain in her arms, back, and legs she could still notice his penis going flaccid and his goo on her leg. He was drooling from his mouth, as well, making her chest and left breast shiny wet. Her lower back ached from how her legs had been forced so wide apart, and she became aware that the entire city was now observing her exposed genitals, semen oozing out of her vaginal lips. She cried out in anger and pain.

The spectacle went on until dark; the two condemned hung on each other, their hands stiff claws that intertwined in a mockery of affection as if they were holding hands. In fact, their hands were ruined, all the nerves and bones leading to them smashed and broken. The moved only a little, occasionally engaging in the dance of the crucified, lifting or adjusting in a futile attempt to find a better position.

The entire city observed this spectacle until sunset, when many became bored and returned home. The cool of the night descended, and a fire was built in the execution clearing.


Late that night Aurelius approached the couple where they hung. They had not moved in some time, heads slumped down on each other's shoulders. Aurelius observed them closely and then reached out to touch the prelate's flaccid cock where it hung down between his legs. As he stroked it he sensed it was alive, pulsing and slowly reacting to the touch. Continuing his masturbation of the prelate's member, Aurelius also reached a finger up to press between the folds of Julia's cunt. The soft flesh separated for him and he quickly found her clit.

As the prelate's cock grew hard from manipulation Aurelius lifted and directed it upward toward the flesh of Julia's cunt lips. He pressed the glans against the female organs, encouraging mutual stimulation.

The prelate groaned, and whispered in a harsh low voice, "you bastard... " But he moved his hips, unable to stop himself. Julia could not stop the movement and simply hung there as once again the prelate was urged and aroused and finally penetrated her. Though weak, the prelate had sufficient strength to thrust slowly but surely deeper and deeper into his wife.

Aurelius assisted in the fucking, lifting the prelate's ass up in rhythm with his thrusts for deeper penetration. The centurion stood nearby and watched, a smirk on his face.

The blood had trickled down from the victims' wrists and covered their feet, but overall the condemned had not lost a lot of blood. As Aurelius urged on and assisted this last agonizing rape, the movement caused new bleeding from the feet of both victims. The grunted, mostly from pain, as the fucking continued slowly but surely.

Aurelius observed the pulsing cock contractions when the prelate reached climax. Julia had not had an orgasm, but it didn't matter to him. Pleasure was not the purpose of this exercise; it was humiliation.

Water was given to the crucified couple, a sponge filled with cold liquid offered several times. This was no favor, it was a cruelty for it would prolong their suffering. Many victims of the cross died from dehydration fairly quickly.


Four days later the prelate hung dead from the cross, but Julia still lived. Each night Aurelius visited and took the prelate's cock and rubbed it against Julia's cunt. Julia was aware of what was happening, felt the humiliation as the soldiers watched. The pain from the nails had dulled to a massive ache that covered her entire body.

Even after he was dead, the prelate's cock was rubbed against Julia's cunt, and even forced partway inside. The young girl begged for mercy in her dry, gasping voice, but none came. The body attached to her had begun to stink, and the flies crawled everywhere, into her eyes, her nose, her mount, even her ears. It was hell not to be able to brush them away, but everything was hell when nailed to a cross.

On the sixth day Julia died. She had been silent and unmoving for at least a day before, but her breathing continued as a slow grating sound.

On the seventh evening Aurelius came, covering his nose against the smell of decay, gathered the dead prelate's cock one last time, shoving it up inside the dead girl's cunt. It stayed there along with the bodies for another seven days, a display and warning to others, just as with all crucifixions.