Sunday, October 18, 2015

Private Crucifixion

I been reading this blog for a while, like since it started and it really strikes home. Crucifixion has been fascination of me for such a long time. Since I was a kid I think. I had to write down my experience and what happen to me.

I'm a girl 22 years old, call me Sandy. It's not my real name. I stand 5'5", am skinny with pretty good boobs. My hair changes color a lot, but its long and usually dark, like black. I not been a virgin since my daddy took it from me when I was 12. He's in jail now so it don't matter.

Something went wrong with me when I was like, a kid. Growing up. My dad used to touch me a lot, and he was my first, like I said. When he went to jail it was my brother and me, he is 4 years older and he took care of me but I was pretty wild so sometimes he would chain me to some pipes. He knew dad had done me, and I had done other guys since then and in order to get him to let me loose I would blow him and then he would let me go when he wasn't around.

I could always get something from my bro if I wanted it, first with a bj and later I fucked him. He was pretty good actually except he really liked to tie me up when he did me. He'd tie my elbows behind my back when I did a bj, and he would tie me spread eagle when he fucked me. It was OK with me as long as I got what I wanted and I actually began to enjoy it some.

That time when I was younger was what really got me into bondage I think, sort of maybe twisted me a bit? Ever since I was having sex, it was always together with getting tied up, sometimes really tight, and so it just sort of came natural like. Sex and getting tied up I mean.

When I turned 17 I had to make some money, and I worked fast food for a bit but it was awful and got fired, and later with another job I was fucking the manager, some pimple face kid only a year or two older than me, to keep my job. We used to do it in the tiny office in the back, in the chair with my legs over the arms and up on the desk and wall. He had some handcuffs and liked to cuff me so my hands were behind my back and stuck to the chair, and then he pretended to rape me. That part got me a raise.

It was when I was fucking my manager and my bro, I was 18 I think, that i saw this web site a porn web site at my managers computer he was watching and it had girls all tied up and hurting, and it sort of turned me on, like... how come I can't do that, I wanna have sex that way, cause it would be better.

One of the scenes was with this girl that got hung up on a cross, and i watched it over and over again, seeing how she couldn't move and was hurting and this sadist guy just watched and even whipped her a little bit. It made me think and I remember I actually went home and was fucking my bro at night, but thinking about this girl hanging there all exposed and on display and it turned me on so bad.

So I'm thinking its really hot, and dreaming about it. I know, I am kinda sick for that, but whatever I ain't hurting no one else. But then I thought, hey, those girls are getting paid for that and its something I might actually want. I did want it. I went to the web site and saw where they wanted models, and asked what they would do, like, their limits and stuff. I filled out the form, not really thinking, I didn't think they would ever like, contact me or anything. I took a pic of myself and uploaded it and then forgot about it.

Two weeks later I get this call. I'm blown away. Like, here I am this 18 year old working McDonald's and this big porn company is calling me. They want me to come in for an interview, like as if it were a real job. Turned out it was sorta like a real job, but it was 100 miles away but the money was like... they said anything from $1,000 to $3,000 for one day work. Holy Crap. So I said I would be there on my day off.

Well, they liked me. I could kinda tell this sadist guy that was in the pictures I saw on the web site, he interviewed me himself and he was sorta like a father figure... LOL hahaha... like my father. He liked me cause I was really young and looked cute. Yeah. They went through stuff, made sure I knew what I was getting into. They were gonna tie me up in weird positions and make me expose myself. They were sorta honest, and said they actually liked the girls to start crying and beg and stuff, for real because it made for a good show.

Yeah, they were just like my dad, and my bro. Horny and got off on girls tied up and suffering while they fucked them or jerked off. Good thing I had been raised that way and sort of liked it.

They had me strip during the interview and bend over and spread my legs and stuff, but they didn't fuck me or anything. I woulda fucked them if they had asked, but, they said there would be no fucking in the whole thing, though I might have stuff sticked up inside me, like any of my holes. But it would all be real hygenic and everything.

While they were talking I said something about the cross and asked if I would be up on it, and they laughed and said that was for more experienced girls. I guess I looked disappointed because they asked why and I told them I sorta had gotten real interested in it. They perked up a lot at that and asked a bunch more questions. I told them how I really wanted it, how it had sort of become my dream to be crucified and on display.

Anyway, they offered me the job, and we even set a date, made sure I wasn't going to be on the rag or anything. They would take pics and video the thing, in the basement of this building in the city where I interviewed. I sorta knew what they would be doing to me, but not exactly, but fuck the money was too good to pass up. A whole month's salary for one day? Fuck yeah.

That day I show up and this lady takes me down to the basement and there's like, 5, 6 guys. They checked my ID for age before, but they checked again and had me sign all sorts of waivers, saying I wouldn't sue them or be mad if I got hurt. Yeah, yeah.

They gave me clothes to change into, some really loose and sexy revealing clothes that made me look like a complete slut. Then they roll cameras and tied me up still clothed, in this really weird position with ropes going all over and my legs all twisted around. I had never been tied up that tight before. These guys were really good, I could tell right away by the way there was like, no way I could get out from the tie.

They cut the clothes off me, I guess thats why they gave me the slut clothes, and pretty soon I was naked and this guy had his hands all over me, pinching and probing and then he gags me with this ball gag and I start drooling all over my boobs as I hang there and the guys with the cameras roam around. I'd never been gagged before and the drooling part sorta surprised me.

Oh, they gave me a sort of safe word to use, but told me I would be gagged so the safe word was actually a sort of grunt, like "uh-uh". Other than that I could cry and beg and plead and scream and moan all I wanted and they didn't care. I wasn't crying or moaning or anything at that point, until they stuck this dildo up inside me and reamed me out good. It was sorta like a really complicated versions of the rape stuff my boss back at Mickey D's used to like.

Anyway, to skip by a lot of the shit they did to me, I will say they tied me in three or four different positions and stuck dildos up me, and made me suck the dildos, and some of it was sort of intense and hurt, but I didn't use the safe word once because I knew if I did they would stop and I wouldn't get any money. I did cry a little though, and my snot was running out of my nose like a river. It sort of felt like my bro, my dad, and the manager all fucking with me all at once, except worse.

I'm tied up in the corner and they get out this cross. Like... whoa... They aren't filming but I am just sitting off to the side tied up unable to move or anything and they are getting out this major big wooden thing and setting down on the floor. I hadn't expected that, but there it was. I knew then I was going up on that cross, and was going to get my dream come true, whether it was nightmare or not.

They started filming again, and dragged me ass over to the cross, and made me lie down on it. Oh-- they made me kiss if first, sort of make love to it, which was incredibly weird but also incredibly hot. I'm completely naked, and the guys with cameras are focusing on my facing kissing the wood, and on my cunt and everything, so I am putting on a pretty good show kissing and licking and humping this wood. So then they make me lie down on it and start tying me to it.

It felt like totally different from any other time I'd been tied up, because this was with my arms up and spread out, and I felt really open and exposed. My knees were bent before they tied my feet, and the ropes went around my wrists like, a dozen times. It didn't just feel weird, it felt like humiliating and vulnerable. It kinda turned me on.

They then lifted the cross up with some ropes and stuff. There was a hole in the floor where the bottom of the cross went, and they sorta guided it and made it go in the hole. As I went up I felt more and more weird, like I was being put on display, and it made me feel really uncomfortable.

When the cross got almost all the way up my body slumped down and pulled on my arms and wrists. Yeah! That was the sensation I had imagined the girl experiencing before, that I had masturbated to, and it didn't feel good at all. It wasn't horribly painful like I thought, but it didn't feel good either. I sort of hung there for a while, the cameras video me, and my arms got tired and were stretched and hurting and so I pushed up on my feet against the ropes below and lifted myself up. That felt better for a bit, though my chest pushed out and my boobs stuck out and the guys with the cameras went crazy getting shots of it.

I guess I also sorta pushed out my hips and my cunt then, too. It was such a weird feeling, no one was forcing me to do it but I didn't want to just hang by my arms so that's what I had to do. Like, I was pushing out my cunt and going "hey guys, look at this! It's my cunt! Yeah, it hurts and I have to show you my cunt so it stops hurting a while, isn't that cool?"

After a while I sagged back down again. The asshole that ran the place came over and played with my tits for a while, and put clamps on them. That hurt. They weren't nice clamps, they were evil ones that really hurt going on and hurt even worse coming off.

I wasn't crying on the cross but I think I scrunched my face because it hurt. The guy asked what it felt like, and I told him about the pressure in my shoulders, and the cramping in my arms and back. Then I pushed up again. Telling him about the pain seemed to make him happy. His getting off on my pain made me horny, too, which was really weird.

I must have been there a half hour or so, going up and down every few minutes. Whenever I went down my knees had a tendency to spread and show off my cunt. Whenever I pushed myself up, my hips had a tendency to push out and show off my cunt. No matter what I did, I guess I showed off my cunt. My arms being lifted up and stretched out did a great job showing off my boobs, too. I saw some of the pics later and they looked really good in that position. I got good boobs.

So after a half hour the guy gets a whip, a small light one, and sort of whips me. I know he wasn't doing it hard but it stung like fire after the first few strokes. That did make me cry a bit.

Then they did something really unexpected. They got this vibrator, a kind I had never seen before. It had a small head on it, pretty much designed just to stimulate a clit, and that's what they did. He took this thing and turned it on and vibrated my clit. At first I was like... what the fuck... and then I was like... oh yeah... and then I was like... omg omg omg and I came right there, hanging from the cross, while being filmed.

That was totally embarrassing. They had made me cum. Like, actually forced me to orgasm. Not liked I objected to it, but it wasn't something I was doing, it was something they were doing to me!. And the cameras were close in, showing my pussy, how wet it was, and then on my face as I came.

Not much happened after that, they let me down and let me clean up and take a shower. Afterward the guy handed me a check. $1,500. I thought it was going to be $1,000 but it was more and I was like, what is this?

Because I had done really well, and had gone up on the cross, I got a bonus. Soooo coooool. The cross was actually pretty good, too, I felt like a total pain slut and wanted to do it again, though I didn't say that to him right then.

He invited me back again, asked if I wanted to play in private sometime. I was like, what does that mean?

He says, sometimes the girls that actually are into bondage like to come play after hours, have some fun, just with him and maybe one or two other people. He would pay regular rates if I wanted.

Fuck yes. I had fun that day, and while it felt sorta scary and hurt, I also sorta liked it, and if he was paying I would do it. For sure.

My wrists were sorta fucked up from the crucifixion, but not badly. The red went away in about a day and it didn't hurt.

The next time I got crucified was at night, and was a private sort of deal maybe a month later. This time the guy said I might get fucked, and I said OK but I wanted extra money for it. I didn't think it mattered, I would have fucked them for free anyway, but I sort of thought I should ask. He said OK.

So no one was in the building this time except for the sadist guy and four of his guy friends, and one girl (who was really pretty) that I had seen around before. The lights were dimmer and it was eerie, like positively dungeon like. They made a big deal out of stripping me, acting like they were abducting and forcing me, though I was actually helping them.

Then they tied me over a sort of wooden bench thing and whipped my ass. It hurt like hell, a lot worse than the whipping I had before on the cross. When they stopped my ass was burning like it was on fire and I was crying. It struck me then that I didn't know whether I could use my safe word then, they hadn't talked about it. Oh well, it didn't matter cause I wasn't going to.

So then the guys started to fuck me. I was still bent over this wooden thing, my legs spread apart, ass burning, and they came up behind and stuck it in me and pumped. It felt OK, I couldn't really see them though I could kinda tell which one was inside me. A couple of guys came on my ass, and then they whipped me some more and the girl put clamps on my nipples which hurt like hell.

Two other guys fucked me then. It's funny to think that I had fucked like, 5 guys before then and in that one night I doubled the number of guys I had fucked. It was like an orgy, and I actually began to imagine that I was a slave in old Rome, being used by her masters, and it was fun. I really got into it then.

So they put me up on the cross again, I think this was one of the main reasons for the whole gig, was for the guys to be able to come watch a real girl getting crucified, live. I'd done it before, and the sensations of hanging there were sort of similar but they had changed where my wrists were tied or something because the angle was all off and caused a lot of cramping in my shoulders right away.

All the guys are sitting around stroking their cocks just looking at me, drinking beers and laughing. Whenever I moved or made some noise they laughed or looked closer. When I tried standing up they made fun of me. I blushed the first couple of times because having those guys right there in the room watching me and getting off and me helpless up there was just... humiliating.

Still, it was what I wanted. I wanted to be humiliated and hurt. It was like, I truly felt I deserved it and being used and fucked and hurt like that was the only way I was achieving, like, my destiny. So I hung there and got wet between my legs and one of the guys saw it and everyone came over and were like, "wow, look at this, the cunt is such a pain slut" and they were right.

It made me cry, partly because of how embarrassing it was, mixed with the pain and stuff from being hung up. I dunno how long I was up there, but they did me with the little vibrator after a while and I came, really loud. The girl had been sitting looking at me and had taken most of her clothes off and given a couple of the guys short BJs, while I hung and watched.

After a while the girl came over and started sucking my pussy. I had never had a girl do that to me before, and it was so strange to know a girl was tonguing me, but she did and it felt just as good. I didn't cum as easy as when they used the vibrator but I came.

You know how weird it is to be tied up and hurting, like in pain from stuff and also be sexually aroused and actually have orgasms and stuff? It wasn't like it had never happened before, I had sex tied up plenty of times even sometimes when it hurt, and I guess it isn't that much of a surprise.

But after a while it started getting really hard to breathe. I don't know how long I was up there, a lot longer than before, maybe a couple of hours and it was getting really bad. The drool and snot and tears covered my face and breasts, and I desperately wanted to scratch an itch but couldn't, and I wanted to wipe my face but couldn't, and I wanted to relieve the pressure on my arms and shoulders and chest and couldn't. My body hung out and away from the cross because of the angle and that hurt a lot worse and I began sobbing and asking to be let down.

The sobbing and begging was like, the part they had been waiting for I think. All those guys got like excited, and began talking to me, asking me how much it hurt and teasing me. They really were cruel, asking me what I would do if they let me down, like would I be their slave or would I eat their shit, and they told me to beg in certain ways which I did but they still didn't let me down.

My hands throbbed with pain, like they were swollen or something, because maybe the blood couldn't get to them cause of the rope, and my arms felt all stretched to their limits, and my shoulders were twisted and cramping every way I turned. Nothing made it feel better.

I had gotten thirsty too, I don't know why but it was so much worse because there was nothing I could do about it. They wouldn't give me water. Right about then I peed, I mean, I didn't mean to pee, it just came streaming out. The guys were like, yeahhhhh..... and all happy I had just suddenly peed against my will.

My legs were getting shaky and weak from being up there, and it was harder to raise myself up. I was panting, like, painting and crying at the same time. I wanted down, though I also felt like, really like dirt right then. I think I lost my mind for a while, just lost it, feeling completely like a total slut that deserved nothing but pain and torture and to be forced to eat shit and be used and raped.

They stuck a dildo up my ass while I was hanging there, and reamed me out while I begged. They told me that if I begged to be ass fucked hard enough they would consider letting me down, so I begged, asking for then to get a bigger dildo, to fuck it hard and deep and make me bleed. They inserted a second dildo up my cunt then, so both were inside and I thought my bottom side was going to just rip open. I kept begging, asking them to do me so they would let me down, that I was a whore, a cunt, a slave, a piece of shit.

Well, the sadist guy who ran the place finally called a halt and let me down. I collapsed at the foot of the cross, unable to move my muscles were so fucked up. One of the guys wanted to fuck me again, but the sadist guy in charge wouldn't let him, said I had enough and the evening was over.

The girl came over and sort of cleaned me up, helped me stand after a while and gave me water. She told me real sweetly that I had done real good, that I should be proud, and I was, too. I had survived being crucified real bad, and had even enjoyed parts of it, enough I had several orgasms when I was up on the cross.

They gave me a check for $2,000 that night, which was so cool, I quit my job at McD's, which was a mistake because I spent all $2K on coke and H in the next couple of weeks and didn't have money for rent and my brother was going to kick me out. I went back to the porn place, and did a few more gigs for them, some of which were even more intense outside at some farm place, and it was really good money but I couldn't keep doing it so I got a job at Walmart and turned some tricks for this guy I know.

I been crucified once more since that night, and it was incredible, I am convinced I want to be crucified again, but only if the dudes actually know how to do it. Because, like, I don't want to die, yanno?

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Observing the Crucified

The day was hot and sweaty, the road dusty, and Servius was tired but kept going because he was so close to home. He had been traveling for a month on the trade route, buying and selling, collecting specialty wares to be sold by his family in their small shop near the center of Philippi. There had been news of unrest, of how the Emperor Diocletian has been cracking down on anything or anyone that even appeared to be causing problems.

On the way back to Philippi, Servius had heard of mass crucifixions of Christians in many parts of the world, as well as patricians and their families that were thought to be disloyal. The local emperor had been dethroned and those that supported him were being exiled or put to death.

So it was that the site of the main road into Philippi did not surprise him too deeply when he came over the hill and looked along the tree lined boulevard. Along the edges were a row of crosses. Only about 10 of the 30 or so crosses were occupied but that was enough to show the city had gone through a major purge.

Fortunately, Servius' family was unimportant and unlikely to be the target of any imperial retributions.

Servius walked slowly down the lane, approaching the first set of crosses that were empty. They showed signs of recent use, with nails and spatters of dried blood at the ends of the patibulum. He slowly trudged to the first victim, passing two other travelers that hurried on and averted their eyes as they went on their way out of town.

Coming to the first victim, Servius hazarded a glance; he was afraid to look but found himself unable not to.

The man hanging from the wooden cross was curiously unlike most men he saw in everyday life. The skin was darker, and bones protruded as if the man was malnourished. His head hung down and at first Servius thought he was dead, but then detected movement of the stomach as the man breathed. Closer examination showed the darker skin color was from bad sunburn, dirt that crusted on the flesh mixed with sweat, and in some places, dried blood from a severe flogging.

The condemned man's feet had a single large spike nailed through them, his legs bent and knees forced slightly outward. The protruding hip bones framed the man's genitals, clearly on display, for the man was completely naked.

There was a smell, as well. A biologic smell, a human smell, but not a good one. Old urine, turned to ammonia. A tinge of smell from feces. A closer look revealed the wooded stipes had some remnants of human waste that clung to it between where the man's legs spread apart.

The whole scene made Servius want to throw up and he turned away. He had known the man on the cross. It was Maximus Carus, a very important man in local government, a tax collector, and quite rich.

He was nothing now but a suffering body on display on the main road, for all to see and pity.

Servius trudged on, averting his eyes from the next two victims. He didn't want to see anything more. One of the infortunates called out to him in a gasping, wheezing voice, "water.... water..."

The next two crosses were empty, and then there was the fourth victim. Here he stopped and looked up, sensing something different about this victim.

He stood in disbelief for a moment, slowly taking in what he saw. There, hanging from the cross in front of him, was Fabia Faustina. He knew her well.

Faustina was a young girl of 16 or 17, quite the marriageable age and the youngest daughter of Maximus Carus. Servius had talked with her many times, hopeful that she would heed him and allow him to court her. It had been a lost cause; Faustina was rich and incredibly good looking. Her beauty was renowned throughout the city. A haughty girl, caught up in her own beauty and money, Faustina had played games with the young men in the city, pitting them against each other. It was rumored that she had slept with several of them, and had been indirectly responsible for the death of one young man when her latest lover became jealous.

Now here she was. Naked. Not a bit of clothing or jewelry on her body. Wait... that wasn't true. Looking carefully he saw that she was still wearing dangling earrings, expensive gold and jade ones. They looked ironic now, the remnants of a lost life as she hung naked on the cross.

Servius could see now her body was everything he had imagined it to be. Thin but strong, well shaped with large breasts that dangled slightly forward in her current hanging position. Dark nipples, a thin waist with stomach muscles that flexed tight with each breath she took. Her genitals were clearly visible, as the same kind of spike had been driven into her feet, forcing her legs apart at an odd angle.

What was this? How could it be that Faustina on the cross was even more beautiful, more arousing, more attractive and alluring than she had ever been when he had talked with her in the market, or when he saw her kissing that man behind his family's shop. The man had his hand up her dress, he remembered. Now, Servius looked and saw the folds of flesh that marked the entrance to Faustina's vagina, and he could imagine plainly what that man had been feeling. But it wasn't her nudity that made her more attractive. No, it was something else. Servius looked at the naked girl and pondered the question.

Several other travelers passed by as Servius stood looking at Faustina on the cross. Most went by, though a few stopped and whispered in quiet tones. One woman was crying as she passed. One man seemed to chuckle as he stopped and looked, and then walked on. Servius barely noticed these others, he was too engrossed in the image of the woman suffering before him.

She was undoubtedly suffering, too. Her face was contorted in an ever shifting mask of pain, her lips moist as she drooled slightly, the shiny saliva running over her chin and onto her breasts. Her eyes opened and closed, though her head was down and hair covered part of her face. He stepped closer to see the agony, her face the mirror in which the pain was reflected; it was the window into the horror that was the last hours of her life.

As he stepped forward he came to where she could see him without moving her head up and a flicker of recognition crossed her eyes.

"You... I know... Servius..."

Servius just continued to look at the beautiful face, twisted by pain, and said nothing.

"Servius... water... please help me..."

Servius knew that Faustina was at the beginning of her suffering. She must have been crucified much later than her father, for she was not as sunburned or dirt caked, and was sweating profusely. Her body had not dehydrated yet. Her thirst was just beginning, and as thirsty as she was now it would be worse, so much worse, in a few hours or another day.

Servius reached up without thinking. Faustina was crucified higher than he was, but not significantly so. He stretched and his fingertips were able to touch Faustina's soft left breast and they smeared the saliva that had trickled there.

His touch brought out a sob. Faustina didn't cry, but one single sob came out; the cry made her stomach contract, her ribs move under her flesh, her breasts even bounced slightly. The cry also brought a soldier over.

"Don't touch the condemned," he said in a rough voice.

Servius looked at the guard, the contrast of the crucified girl and the healthy guard standing before him shocking his senses for a moment. He had been so wrapped up in the naked horror before him.

"Do you know who this is? This is Fabia Faustina. She is the most beautiful, most desirable girl in the city."

The guard laughed, "Not any more she isn't. She is a crucified girl right now, and in a little while she will be a rotting corpse."

Servius looked back at Faustina and said quietly, "She is even more beautiful now."

The guard was silent for a moment, and then grunted, "Yes, I see what you mean. I guess you rather had a crush on her. Go ahead and touch her a little, if you want. She's been touched plenty if the stories I hear are true."

"When was she crucified?"

"This morning, I think. Her father, down the way, went up on the cross yesterday, but she followed today. I remember they caught her actually crying at her father's feet when he was freshly hung and still screaming."

Servius turned back to the naked girl, and the guard meandered on to hassle a group crying women gathered at the base of a cross a few yards away.

A low grunting noise came from the girl. Servius recognized the words. "Please. I always liked you. You were my favorite. I wanted you, dreamed of you. Please get me some water..."

Faustina's attempts at using her feminine attractiveness and romantic appeal had a distinctly hollow effect. A day before, her words would have moved Servius to do anything. He would have carried water to her in his hands from the stream outside the city if he had to. Now? they just seemed empty, mechanical, pathetic. Filled with useless pain.

Servius turned his attention to the area between her legs. The girl's genitalia were almost at eye level with him. Small folds of flesh from her labia protruded and even shook slightly as her body shook. Her thighs were smooth and strong. The tiny curves of her buttocks showed behind her labia.

Reaching one hand out, Servius slowly touched Faustina's soft flesh, sliding his hands across her genital opening. It was dry there, not wet as he had imagined it so many times. The sweat was beginning to trickle down and with a small stroke of his fingers he smoothed some of it from her stomach and legs over the soft folds of flesh that stuck out between her thighs. Then, one finger slid in. As it invaded her, Faustina took a sudden breath and cried out, not a sob, not an expression of pain, but humiliation. Pure, complete humiliation at being exposed, naked, on the main highway into town, and unable to move to stop Servius from penetrating her vagina as deeply as he could.

She did move slightly, reacting to his invasion of her body. Lifting herself up by pressing down on her nailed feet, she pushed and struggled. The muscles in her legs went tight and well defined as she strained to lift herself off his invading fingers, and her arms pulled on the nails that held them high. He let her go, allowing his fingers to slide out as she lifted up.

In the process of pushing herself up she screamed in pain. Servius could see where the flesh and bones in her feet were pressing against the spike, digging in with the pressure, causing untold pain. He looked up, and saw how she pulled on her arms, wriggling to get her body higher so she did not hang from the spikes in her wrists. Her screams were desperate, panting, short things. The screaming itself drew strength from her, and yet the agony was such she could not help but scream.

Finally she reached a standing position, her knees locked and most of her body weight was on the spike that held her feet to the cross. But Servius noticed something at that point, a detail he had not seen when observing her father. Faustina's feet were nailed to a small wood protrusion, an angled shelf of sorts. It's angle was too sharp to allow her to stand directly on it; her weight was still on the nail.

"Sir! Can you answer a question?" Servius called out to the guard, who was talking to a group of men that were observing an older crucified woman across the road.

"What is it, do you want to paw her some more?" The guard came over.

"No, I am curious." Faustina had stopped screaming and was making slight grunting/whining noises. "Her feet. They are nailed to this small block of wood. Why? Her father... some of the others..."

"Ah... yes. Well, the wood allows her to push up more easily, and to stand allowing her to relieve the pain in her arms and shoulders."

"So it is a kindness?"

The guard laughed. "You might think so, but I do not. The more the condemned suffers and hangs, the faster they die. The small relief of being able to push up only prolongs her suffering. It is like giving the condemned water as they hang; it simply prolongs their life, and thus their suffering. It is better to die on the cross as quickly as possible."

Faustina's legs were shaking violently from the strain of staying upright and her cries were becoming more urgent. The pain in her feet was obviously severe and the suffering overwhelming. Suddenly, one leg gave out, the knee bending. Faustina's young body twisted on the cross and then suddenly fell down, jerking to a stop as her arms stretched taught once again. She screamed as her weight jammed on the nails that held her wrists, her face turning toward the sky momentarily as if she was crying out to the gods for mercy.

Servius looked closely at the nails that had been pounded through the young girl's delicate arms, against which she had suddenly jerked and was now hanging. The sun caught what little of the spikes protruded with a slight shadow. They were large, though it appeared that much of what he saw was the head of the spike, broad and flat to prevent the softer flesh of the condemned girl from tearing and ripping off. There was remarkably little blood. Several trickles of red had drooled down from her wrists and along the underside of her arms, but the wound was not significant.

The spikes were not in her hands, the had been pounded into her forearms just next to the wrist, between the bones. One arm appeared misshapen, as if the upper bone had broken, but the other was intact. The spike had slipped between the bones without completely breaking them.

Next to the spikes the girl's hands were curled in a permanent, fixed claw-like pose. No movement she made ever changed the claws her fingers formed; the nerves and tendons in her arm had been smashed and damaged so that her hands had frozen, paralyzed in this position. It seemed incongruous to Servius; the girl's delicate thin arms showing hardened lines of muscles pulled tight, her long thin soft hands curled as if to claw and attack their way through an enemy.

In fact, the entire scene seemed very incongruous, eerie. Faustina's young body was still recognizable and beautiful, but the flesh was pulled over her ribs, the muscles in her shoulders and arms protruded in sharp outline from strain, and her breasts were thrust out slightly, enhanced and accentuated by her position. She was at once delicate, sexual, and a horrible, twisted parody of her former young self.

Several men and women had joined Servius around Faustina's cross. Faustina stared at them, tears streaming down her cheeks as she struggled to breathe in her hanging position. Servius could see the humiliation in her eyes; the pain of having her slow agony observed by people she knew. The inability to cover herself was compounded by the way her body was stretched on display for all to see, arms high, legs spread.

Servius moved around to the side of the cross, and observed the shapely body of the young girl in profile. Her feet were pulled back against the cross, knees stinking out and showing her shapely legs. Her buttocks and hips pressed back against the stipes of the cross, but from there her back slowly arched away in a gentle curve up and out. Fautina's shoulders were about a foot out from the stipes, the top portion of her body hanging out toward those who observed her from the front. Her breasts hung down, but because her body hung out and away from the cross slightly, they also dangled out slightly, emphasizing their curved shape. The way the condemned girl's body hung had the effect of stretching her body out, emphasizing a thin waist, ribs, and larger breasts.

Faustina's head hung forward and down, her hair straggling down though the sweat had caught it and much was plastered against her face, neck and shoulders. Rising from her shoulders her arms rose backward at an odd and painful angle until meeting the patibulum at the wrists, where spikes held her wrists securely to the wood.

The entire effect of the condemn's silhouette was obscene. It emphasized her sex; her hips, narrow stomach, large breasts and thin arms and legs. But the body was contorted in a horrible manner at the same time. The only movement was the rapid movement of her stomach as she panted.

Moving to the back of the cross Servius discovered more evidence of the torture to which the girl had been subjected. On either side of the wooden stipes her narrow body showed signs of a vicious whipping. Red lines criss-crossed where the leather strip had ripped into her flesh. Servius was glad that her back was the only part of her damaged from the whipping; she was so beautiful and the shredded flesh gave him the sense she was just ground up meat.

The back of the patibulum showed a slight evidence of one spike, on the left, that had gone straight through the wood, the point exposed on the other side. The other spike had not gone quite as far.

As Servius made his way to the front of the cross once again, Faustina made a small noise, rather like an exhausted sob, or perhaps just a moan of despair. Without warning, a stream of urine erupted from between her legs and splattered on the ground in front of her.

This act of helpless public loss of body control struck Servius as the full example of how the beautiful Faustina had been reduced to the state of an animal, and perhaps lower than that. She was no longer the beautiful woman that had rejected his advances. She was a condemned and degraded thing, suffering for the pleasure and as an example to others, limbs spread and stretched wide, on public display.

The heat of the day had caused Faustina to sweat profusely, her bare flesh glistening in the sun. Her entire body was exposed to the direct heat of the sun that burned down relentlessly. It struck Servius that part of Faustina's death was to actually be cooked alive in the direct sun. Her skin had turned red during the time he had been observing her... how long? An hour? more? The sun was all the way across the sky. It had been much of the day, time had passed quickly he had been so engrossed in watching the poor girl.

She shook her head, hair flapping about for a moment. Servius looked carefully and saw. Flies were gathering on her, attracted by the salt sweat. The crawled over her body, but seemed to seek out the cracks and openings most of all. Several flies were approaching her eyes, and crawled over her lips. One was exploring her left nostril. Faustina shook her head again, scattering the flies only temporarily. Within a few seconds they had gathered again and continued their exploration of her body.

Some flies gathered between her legs and darted around the vaginal flesh folds. Servius came close again, observing the flies on her face. Faustina's eyes were open, in spite of the insect invasion. There was little she could do to stop them. It was but another indignity and torture to feel the tiny, disgusting feet run rampant across her flesh and explore her smallest cavities.

"Servius... please have mercy. Water... just a little. Just a little. Tell my mother ... my uncle... he can rescue me..." Faustina's voice was grating, hoarse. She was no longer drooling, a sign that dehydration had set in.

Servius looked around the avenue, and then pointed to a man hanging motionless from a cross close to the city gates.

"Your uncle has his own cross there. I don't think he can help you."

Faustina simply stared at Servius, then closed her eyes, croaking, "water..."

The heat of the day had taken it's toll on Servius as well. Finally forced to take care of his own body in ways that Faustina no longer could, he turned and trudged into the city, to find his family's home, urinate in private, eat a meal and drink good wine and water, splash cooling water over his body, and then sleep in his own bed.

Late that night Servius thought about Faustina still hanging on the cross only a few hundred yards away, suffering alone in the night. His penis grew hard, and he stroked it until he spurt semen over his stomach, all the while remembering Faustina's naked, suffering body on display before him.

He would visit her again tomorrow and perhaps even give her some water to help her survive and suffer a bit longer.

Sunday, April 12, 2015

Amazon Crucifixion


The trek through the heavy jungle in northern Brazil had been exhausting. Paulo, Raul and Richard were lucky to have reached this far by themselves, without injury. The weather had alternated between extremely wet from rain, to extremely wet from humidity, getting worse the further north they went. The main river filled with boat traffic had given way to smaller rivers with an occasional boat or skiff with small settlements.

Finally they had turned their small power boat into an inlet and headed up what they knew to be a previously undocumented waterway. There were no other boats here, no signs of human life, though the jungle teamed with colorful birds, huge insects, bizarre looking marmosets and scary spiders.

Reaching a waterfall they abandoned their boat and decided to try heading up the creek for one day before giving up and heading back. They expedition was an initial exploration, financed by a wealthy entrepreneur who believed he could locate some unique plant life that could be used in the pharmaceutical industry. They needed to collect samples and do surveys, and then return.

Radios had stopped working long before. Supplies were running low.

That evening they made camp and sat by a small fire, cooking some lizards they had caught to go with their dried beans. Raul saw her first. They didn't know how long she had been standing there.

Hovering on the edge of camp stood a woman with long, smooth, shiny black hair, beautiful fine and proud facial features, long muscular arms and legs, and a perfect body. She was naked except for a necklace made of seeds or small bones; her eyes shown in the firelight.

She was beautiful in an intense, overwhelming way that none of the men had ever experienced. And she was tall. Very tall. Well over six feet, perhaps over seven. She stood motionless, displaying no fear or alarm, simply watching them. Paulo rose to his feet in an almost dream like trance, and walked over to her, offering her some of the cooked lizard.  She looked at it with slight amusement, and then reached over and touched Paulo's face with her fingers, running them down his face, feeling the scruff of beard, sliding over the sweat that covered his neck.

They realized now that she carried a spear and a small pack made of leather hung over her shoulder. They invited her in, motioning for her to join them. She did. They spoke to her in English, then in Portuguese. She responded to the portuguese with some basic words. "Sim" (yes), "não" (no), "faminto" (hungry), "segue" (follow).

Her name appeared to be Rai, and she was perhaps 17 or 18 years old, and more beautiful than any of the men had ever experienced. She wore her nakedness comfortably, making the men feel as if it was their rough clothing that was unusual.

"I don't know what she is," Paolo said as they speculated on her origins. "She isn't Guarani, or Yanomami. Maybe a smaller offshoot tribe. But she doesn't have the physical... characteristics. Too tall, too fine featured. I mean, look at her for god's sake, she might be a goddess."

It was true. As the men sat around the campfire and tried to communicate with the woman, they were wrapped in a spell by her beauty, health, and power. Her breasts were perfectly formed; large but firm so that the nipples pointed directly out, and the soft flesh did not flop about when she moved. In fact, her entire body seemed to be stretched tight and firm. When she knelt by the fire she spread her legs, exposing herself without thought or embarrassment.

She seemed to want them to come with her, repeating the word segue, repeatedly, and motioning for them to follow her. The men eagerly obtained flashlights and basic supplies and follow her into the forest where she slipped easily between the trees as if following a hidden path. They followed her perfect ass and legs, entranced by the lean muscles in her back that appeared and disappeared beneath the swaying of her soft, silky, jet black hair. It took about an hour before they saw firelight ahead through the trees and entered a clearing where they were joined by other natives that looked remarkably like Rai.

All were women, tall and statuesque, some taller than Rai (which was impressive). All were naked, though they wore simple adornments of bone, seed, or even metal about their necks and wrists. Many had weapons such as spears or knives. The men saw one woman with a makeshift quiver of arrows, as well.

The men were invited to the largest fire in the middle of the encampment. There were large huts and structures with smaller fires all around them, but most of the women seemed to be gathered around the large communal fire in the center of the small village. In all, there appeared to be about 100 women that came to gawk at the strange men.

Richard, Paulo and Raul sat down at the fire and were served a delicious soup, along with some drink that was strong, and burned as it went down. It was alcoholic, but none that they had ever tasted before. They were drunk before they had finished their soup. In their drunkenness they stared at the naked women all about them, the perfect breasts, the pert buttocks, the long and muscular legs, the lovely long hair. How could one group of women all be so beautiful? And so tall? And would any of them, even the older ones, be willing to have sex? Erections pressed hard against the fabric of their pants, pushing, straining.

Yes, in the presence of these goddesses, none of the men could keep the idea of getting inside one or more of these women out of their minds. It was only natural.


The next morning Paulo woke with a moan. His head pounded, his arms and legs were stiff and he was unable to move. His hangover was the worst he could remember in recent history. He was laying on dirt, in a clay or mud building with a door covered with woven leaves. Around the edges morning light shown through. Paulo tried to get up onto his hands and knees but he couldn't. his legs and arms were so stiff he couldn't move them. He tried harder, but he couldn't get them to budge. He looked down to see if he could get any movement going at all.

He had been tied tightly. He couldn't move because his wrists and legs were tied together. What's more, he was naked. Not a stitch of clothing on him anywhere. He moaned louder from the pain in his head and extremities. In another corner of the room Richard stirred and moaned, and Raul could see he was bound as well. His white flesh showed stark tan lines where his sleeves had ended.

"Richard! Wake up! We gotta get out of here!" Paulo hissed across the room, trying to get his companion to wake completely, but not wanting to alert whomever might be standing guard.  Richard moaned again, opened his eyes, got them focused and then quickly surveyed the situation.

Squiggling around in their hogtie, both men tried to get free. Raul was nowhere to be seen. Finally Richard had a bright idea.

"Let's get close and then I can untie you. Wriggle this way," Richard began slowly edging his way toward Paulo.

Paulo wriggled toward Richard. It was slow going. Just as they neared one another and were about to roll over to go back to back and try untying the ropes, the leaf curtain of the room opened and Rai entered, together with another woman.

The new woman was older, perhaps 25 or 26, taller than Rai and even more beautiful (if that was possible). Paulo felt embarrassment as his cock thickened and expanded at the site of the two women. He rolled over to try and hide his arousal, but the new woman grabbed him and shoved him onto his back. Pointing at his erect cock she smiled and jabbered to Rai in a language the men did not understand. The women seemed pleased by his physical reaction to them.

They turned their attention to Richard, rolling him over as well. As they did, Richard's cock sprang straight up, hard and erect. Rai nodded, pleased, then reached out and touched the hard member. Richard moaned slightly, perhaps from embarrassment, hangover pain, or pleasure. His cock bounced slightly in response to Rai's delicate stroke.

Rai pointed at the older woman and said, "Nome, Lasa." The woman's name was Lasa. Lasa was more heavily decorated with markings and roughly made jewelry, and was obviously in charge. She barked orders at Rai, smiled at the men again as they lay helplessly on their backs with cocks sticking into the air, and left.

Rai fed the men more of the good soup and gave them water. Apparently the men were to be kept alive, and they felt somewhat relieved. But where was Raul?

The answer came the next day.

The First Crucifixion

Unable to move because of their hogtie, the two men urinated and later defecated where they lay. They had no choice. The next morning when Lasa entered their prison she made a face showing the smell of their bodies offended her. She called Rai, and gave instructions.

The two men had their ankle ropes untied. Their legs were stiff and unusable from having been tied back for almost two days, unable to move, so they were dragged by several woman out into a clearing near the main camp. This clearing had evidence of its own fire, and the two men were dragged to opposite sides, about 20 feet away from each other.

Somewhere, the women had obtained chains. Slave chains with cuffs for ankles. The men were placed in these chains. The other end of each chain was secured to a tree, giving the men the freedom to move a few feet in various directions, but not far. Each man slumped against his own tree of captivity and tried to get their legs to move.

"Paulo! Look!" Richard called out, nodding to the far side of the clearing. There they at last saw what had happened to Raul.

On the far side of the clearing Raul hung from a beam of wood. The beam was about six feet long and hung parallel to the ground but eight feet above it. His arms were stretched out and tied tightly at the wrists to the ends of the beam. His body hung down below, and his head hung forward as if he were asleep or unconscious. His legs were tied below him, each ankle tied to a different tree to the side, pulling his legs back and apart so as to expose his genitals where they hung.

"Raul! Raul! Can you hear us! Are you alive!" Richard called out. Raul roused himself, and lifted his head. He wasn't in good shape, though alive.

"Paulo..." he rasped. "They... they... used me...."

"What do you mean? How did they use you? What is wrong?"

Raul's head hung again and sobbed once. He said nothing else. He was weak and breathing was difficult.

The two men watched Raul as he hung from the crossbeam. His arms were only tied at the wrists, which meant his arms ascended up and behind him in a sharp V. It looked painful. Very painful. The ropes at his ankles provided no support. He simply hung there. His breathing was labored. He said nothing. Paulo watched Raul's naked body as his muscles twitched and strained, reacting to cramps that visibly ripped through his suspended body.

Before sunset, Rai and Lasa came to the clearing with soup and water for the men. Raul tried to turn away from the offering of food and drink, but his head was forced back, mouth opened roughly and the liquids poured down his throat. He choked, spitting up much of the soup.

Finally, Lasa reached between Raul's legs, grabbed his testicles and squeezed hard. Raul gasped and howled in pain, screaming. Lasa squeezed again, and again, pulling and smashing and causing pain to ripple through Raul's body. She finally let go and said one thing, "Comer". Eat.

This time Raul ate. He drank the soup and water. When they were satisfied, the women left him hanging. He urinated onto the ground below him.

Both Richard and Paulo noticed that when the women had approached Raul his cock had grown hard and strained outward. Even in the torture of his hanging from the crossbeam, even while his testicles were smashed and tortured, he was aroused by the mere presence of the beautiful women captors.  When they left, his cock slowly lost its erection, sinking back down to flaccidity.

It grew dark, and three of the beautiful naked women came and built a fire in the clearing. Their naked bodies were perfect, even the older women. Hair straight and silky, breasts firm, stomachs flat. Richard actually tried to get free to go to these women, Paulo just sat and began stroking his spontaneously hard cock. Raul's cock throbbed hard in the firelight as well, hanging between his legs as he hung from the cross.

When it was completely dark, two other women joined the three around the fire. These were younger women, and they sat close together, fondling and touching one another as the group spoke together in their unknown language. Their lesbian affection for each other was clear, and as the evening progressed they began kissing and fondling one another. The three men watched as the two women made love, fingering each other, kissing and suckling on nipples, spreading legs wide for each other's head as they tongued pussies.

Then one of the two lovers stood and went over to Raul where he hung. Raul moaned and cried out at her approach, protesting.

"No. No! No.. please... "

He was weak but conscious as the young woman took his cock and began stroking. The woman's lover stood and joined the action, playing with Raul's cock and balls as he hung from the cross. All the while they masturbated the crucified man, they kept hands and lips on each other, fondling flesh in a tortured, obscene trio of sexual lust.

It didn't take long for Raul to ejaculate. A huge load of semen spurt from his cock as he pitched his head back and howled in a mix of pleasure, pain and despair. His body fluid was caught expertly by the young woman in her hand as she stroked and continued to drain every drop from Raul's cock.

The girl who had caught the semen turned to her partner, pushed her to the ground and climbed on top. The semen filled hand slipped between her partner's legs as she smeared, pushed and massaged the fluid between the fleshy folds of the vagina.

Raul hung in agony and watched as the two women fell back from each other, spreading legs apart and pressing their cunts together, grinding, with his fluid lubricating their genitals as they rubbed spasmodically. Their orgasm was mutual and loud as their hips pressed and writhed together frantically.

The women collapsed, exhausted from their sexual activity. Raul hung, his shoulders, arms and back in agonizing cramps. His cock was still hard, never having lost a bit of it's hard erection in spite of having been drained of cum.

The women left the clearing when the fire died. Paulo and Richard heard Raul moaning in pain in the dark. They slept, but the sound of Raul's agony kept them awake much of the night.

This scene was repeated each day. Forced feeding and watering during the day to keep the poor hanging victim alive; firelight and women coming to play and observe Raul's increasing agony. The love making, lesbian sex which had Richard and Paulo masturbating furiously. Forced ejaculation, semen milking. Smearing and inserting the semen into one of the lesbian lovers. Then left alone until the next day.

It became obvious what was going on. This tribe had no men. Through whatever strange quirk of nature or genetics, they had no men. Somehow, though, they were able to entice and disarm any men they came across, and when they did they were captured and milked of their sperm, which was used to impregnate the youngest and most vital of the tribe.

After six or seven days on the cross Raul was clearly wasting away, dying from shock. The forced feeding kept him alive, but the pain of being suspended from the cross was impacting his mind and health. The sun dehydrated him, the cold at night penetrated and weakened him. Beneath his body a pool of urine and feces was gathering, the stench drawing flies and bugs that swarmed the crucified man's body. He was dying slowly, by small bits.

Day after day Raul experienced nothing but excruciating agony from his suspension, but he was not allowed to die. He begged for it. He refused to eat but his mouth was pried open and liquid poured down. The humiliation of being forced to give his sperm each night was mentally agonizing. He lost his mind slowly, in tiny increments until he jabbered and drooled. His only recognizable words were when he begged to be killed.

Raul's wrists became thinner as he lost weight, and his muscles atrophied. When it was clear he might slip out of the ropes that secured him, three of the beautiful women came to the clearing with small but sharp spikes, and pounded them through his wrists to the wood beam. Richard and Paulo listened to his screams as his wrists were shattered, but there was little they could do. Once the nails were in place, Raul's body was fixed in place, and would not fall from the cross.

The Second Crucifixion

It was clear that these women had some sort of power over men, perhaps through pheromones or some other mechanism, for when the women were present all three of the men instantly felt their cocks grow hard, and all they could do was think about the beauty of the women. All they wanted was to get inside the women, to climb them, fuck them, and then fuck them again. They wanted nothing but release.

None of the three men ever did get inside the women's bodies. Their chains were secure, they had only limited movement, and the women were careful.

After 14 days, Raul's decimated, tortured form hung from the cross and no longer moved. It wasn't clear whether he had died. The clearing stunk from human waste, and the smell of a rotting corpse wasn't immediately obvious.

Nevertheless, it became clear one night that Raul was no longer of interest to the women. Seven of them came that evening when the sun was just descending. Their bodies were shiny with the sweat from the heat of the day, their fine smooth skin a pleasure to behold. Richard and Paulo's cocks rose and hardened as always at the sight of so many perfect women.

They approached Richard, dragging a heavy wooden beam toward him. Richard began screaming, anticipating what would be coming. It didn't matter; three of the women grabbed one of his arms and held it in position while the other women tied his wrist in place. The repeated the operation with the left wrist. Ropes were tied to his ankles and the ends were secured someplace behind him.

Richard sat on the ground, arms spread wide, tied to the beam behind his shoulders. He babbled, pleading for his life. The women probably didn't understand him but if they did they showed no signed of caring. Satisfied with their work the women tied a rope around the beam, flung it over a branch above, and then hauled on the end. Richard felt himself being pulled up, higher into a standing position and finally onto his toes. The beam went higher, behind his head, stretching his arms above until the muscles were tight and joins creaked, the weight of his body yanking on his shoulders and elbows. The ropes around his wrists pulled tight, pinching and cutting off circulation until the pain shot through his hands and arms.

Then his feet left the ground, his entire weight supported only by his wrists. The pain was excruciating. He screamed, and struggled, but to no avail. His legs were pulled apart and slightly behind him by the ropes secured to his ankles. He writhed, yelled, begged. The women responded by touching him. Running their hands over his straining muscles, experiencing the pain that was his cramping back. They took his cock and balls in hand and played with them, talking and giggling as they did so.

Richard swore he would not be used. He would not give sperm. He would not allow these women to torture him and gain from their use of his agony.

Five of the women stepped back and sat around the fire as the two remaining women in front of Richard's panting, naked form began to fondle each other. They kissed deeply, hands on each other's asses, and then sank to the ground to spread legs and experience the heights of lesbian pleasure. Richard watched through a haze of pain, his cock erect and throbbing in spite of everything his body was experiencing. Every muscle from his stomach upward was cramping and stretched in pain. He found it hard to breathe. He was crying, tears rolling down his cheeks from the pain and mental anguish. Yet he watched the women as they caressed, fondled, suckled, and entered one another.

It finally came time. The women stood and began stroking Richard. He screamed in frustration, trying to concentrate on the pain of his wrists and hands, anything but the pleasure these women wanted him to feel. He bit his lip. Held his breath. Shook his body. Tried to pull away from the four probing, stroking hands.

Richard's pain truly was agonizing. His shoulders throbbed, his head hurt and his stomach felt nauseous. His hands were going numb from lack of blood and yet still hurt horribly, his fingers curled into stiff claws that no longer moved. Through it all he felt the persistent hands stroking his cock, fondling his balls.

Finally his body took over and responded to the stimulation; he had no choice. He hung his head and looked at the beautiful faces, the beautiful bodies before him, urging him on, and gave in. His muscles contracted, his semen flowed, and he moaned loudly as his sperm poured from the end of his cock into the hand of the woman. His hips jerked, pushing, trying to get every bit of his seed out. It was as if he was obeying a primal need to offer his body fluid to the goddesses that demanded it.

When it was over Richard hung, the pleasure of orgasm fading and replaced with the agony of his upper body, watching the women take his fluid and rub it into their vaginas. One of the girls produced a tuber a little more than a foot long, bulbous but worn smooth, and pushed the end against her partner's pussy, capturing semen and using the tuber to push it inside. She then did the same to her own pussy with the other end of the tuber, pushing semen inside and sliding down its length until her pussy lips met her partners, and a mutual grinding, pushing motion began. They fucked the tuber, using it as a phallus inserted into the two women at either end, their pussies meeting in the middle. It was invisible when the two women pushed hard together, sinking deep inside their bodies, and then could be seen briefly as they parted, only to push back together again in an increasingly frantic rhythm.

The two young girls finally finished with loud grunting orgasms and fell back on the ground, slowly allowing the double dildo to slide out of their cunts. Once they recovered the girls and the rest of the group left the clearing. Richard hung in place, panting a little, drooling. Paulo watched from the other side of the fire, stroking his own cock until spurting his seed onto the ground.  Richard drooled from his open lips, and then urinated onto the ground below him.  He was an animal. Rational thought left him, and was replaced only by body functions and pain.

Oh, so much pain.

The next day a group of women came to the clearing and untied the rope from which Raul's corpse hung, the beam which held his arms wide falling to the ground with a loud thump. They untied his wrists, and grabbed his mutilated arms, pulling and straining until they came free from the nails that held him in place. No blood flowed from his mangled wrists.

Richard watched, knowing this was going to be his fate; a corpse yanked free of the cross that held his arms wide. Raul's remains were dragged away into the forest.

That evening, Richard refused to accept the rich soup offered by the women. He wanted to die. He was in agony, the pain from his arms and shoulders slowly creeping down to encompass his stomach and hips. The women climbed up to him, their smooth, muscular bodies rubbing against his as they pried his mouth open with a sharpened stone, hurting and cracking his teeth until he opened. His jaw was pried wide open and a wooden ring placed inside, forcing his mouth permanently open. Once inside it forced his jaw so wide open that he could not remove or dislodge it. Cramps immediately set into his jaw, causing him to whimper and cry out.

Through it all he felt the women rubbing their bodies against him, he even felt the hardness of one girl's nipples slide against his chest as she forced his jaw wide. Their soft pubic hair brushed against his thigh. The pain in his body was like a blackness that prevented anything else from occupying his mind, and yet he almost came in sexual climax right then. The closeness of the women, feeling their bodies against his, aroused him to a panic. He screamed, not from pain, but from frustration that he could not move, could not release his arms and take these women in his arms, throwing them to the ground and plunging him member deep inside them.

His hands throbbed in pain as his cock throbbed with desire.

Richard sobbed that night as the naked forms of Rai and Lasa came to him, and he watched as they made love before him, drinking of his pain to enhance their pleasure. When it came time he ejaculated into Lasa's hand, his muscles involuntarily contracting and spurting out viscous liquid, producing more semen than he had ever known was possible. Lasa pressed her hand between Rai's legs as they kissed passionately, massaging the liquid into the soft folds of her sex then deeper inside her body. The naked women finally fell to the ground just below Richard's agonized form as they wrapped arms and legs together in a straining, grunting, moaning lesbian heap of flesh.

Paulo watched each day as Richard hung from the cross on the other side of the clearing. Forced to eat and drink but unable to move, Richard simply excreted body fluids. Urine and feces collected on the ground below him, and in the evening sperm was forced from his agonized body as he hung helpless.

Knowing now that his fate was to be the same as Raul and Richard, once Richard died from abuse, shock and exposure, Paulo tried to get away. Yanking on the chain that held him, his ankles became bloody and infected. He had been urinating and defecating on the other side of the tree to separate himself from its disease and smell, but one day he tried eating and drinking it, thinking it might poison him and he could die. He was willing to die in any way rather than submit to being hung from a cross and used in the same way as Raul and Richard.

The Third Crucifixion

Paulo stopped looking at Richard after a few days. The poor man hung from the cross without moving except to twitch when he was bitten by a flying beetle or other pest. Paulo found his own mind slipping into a haze, a pattern marked by his throbbing erections whenever the women were present and malaise when they left.

His infected ankles caused a fever, and he became delirious. He no longer knew how often he masturbated, or when or what he ate. His awareness of the women was acute, for his cock rose and throbbed even before they entered the clearing.

Rai observed how Paulo was deteriorating and called Lasa, who examined the poor man laying naked on the ground. She barked orders, and an hour later several of the naked women came with a fix foot piece of timber. It was the same to which Raul had been nailed, the splinters and blood stains remained, and the site of this roused Paulo out of his delirium. He screamed and tried to fight as the women grabbed his arms. They were incredibly strong, and he was weak. Within a few minutes the girls had his wrists tied tightly to the ends of the wood beam.

As they tied Paulo's arms into their spread-out position, one of the women straddled his hips for a moment, her breasts dangling before his face, her soft vaginal flesh close, oh, so close to his hardened member. In spite of the fact they were crucifying him, he was driven to raise his head to her dangling breasts and managed to get one nipple into his mouth before the woman jerked away from him. His hips rose and fell, straining to force his cock between her legs, but the most he accomplished was to slide it part way between her buttocks.

Then beautiful woman rose from him and he found that his arms were spread wide and ankles tied to lengths of rope that ran behind him. The ropes on his wrists were so tight the pain was like a knife cutting into his flesh to the bone, and his hands were already swollen and turning black. But the women were not done with him.

Long, cruel spikes were brought out and shown to him. He knew what they were for, and he screamed and bucked uselessly. He jabbered and cried, begging for mercy, but the women simply gathered around observing his despair, laughing at his throbbing hardened cock that bobbed and wobbled where it stood at attention. The first nail was placed hard against his left wrist, piercing through his flesh just a bit. Then a heavy rock came down on the end of the nail, driving it deep within his flesh, spreading the radius and ulna apart, smashing and tearing tendons and muscles. The pain took a moment to register, and when it exploded into Paulo's consciousness he screamed louder and more panicked than ever. A second, a third, and a fourth blow tore more tendons and broke the bones, finally exiting the back of his forearm and driving deep into the wood.

Paulo foamed at the mouth, spittle forming from his constant screaming as the women turned their attention to his right wrist. The second spike was driven in to his wrist, and as the lightning pain surged through his arm to his shoulders Paulo saw two of the naked women watching his struggles and screams as their fingers reached down between each other's legs, slowly massaging and stimulating each other. This mutual masturbation is what he saw as he lost consciousness from the pain.

He wasn't unconscious that long, for he woke to his straining agonized body being lifted into the air as several of the women pulled on the rope attached to the cross beam. Each yank as they hoisted him up brought the pain in his arms and back to new peaks. He tried to scream but it was hard to breathe. The higher he was pulled, the more his legs were spread and pulled behind him. When they stopped pulling he dangled in the air with his genitals just at the level of Lasa's naked breasts. His cock had remained hard even when he was unconscious.

The women checked Paulo's suspended body to assure all was secure and then left the clearing. Paulo hung naked in the hot sun, pain wracking his body. As he suffered he looked across the clearing and saw Richard's reddened and emaciated body hanging opposite him. He was still alive as his erection was slowly descending, just as Paulo's was. Otherwise he simply hung, no longer fighting or struggling.

Paulo's body couldn't help but strain and struggle against the nails and ropes. The agony of his suspension was so severe he simply had to try and find a way to cope. Every movement, every slight position change simply brought more agony, but he had to try. He had trouble breathing, partly because of how is weight was concentrated on his shoulders and chest, and partly because of the searing agony that accompanied any movement at all.

There was nothing he could do but experience the pain. It flooded him, became him. He was an instrument of pain, a thing that existed in nothing but pain. Yet he was aware of all things around him. The bees that came and crawled on his flesh, stinging him at times. The drool that seeped from his mouth and trickled down his chin to drop on the dirt below. His bladder that filled slowly until the liquid forced itself out in a stream onto the ground. The flies that crawled over his eyes, mouth, ears, and made him itch, and itch he could not scratch.

It came time for the fire, and his turn to be milked of sperm. Almost the entire tribe of women came that night, just as the sun went down. They drank and laughed, touching the hard cocks of the two men and singing strange songs. Their dancing naked bodies were beautiful to watch; no woman had ever looked more enticing to Paulo than these naked women that moved their bodies and rubbed them together in sync with drums that rolled out a deep rhythm. His agony was doubled as he saw them rubbing, sliding between each other's legs, kissing, suckling, and finally falling to the ground in a mass orgy of female flesh. His agony was that he wanted them, wanted them more than anything in the world. He wanted to penetrate each one of them and leave his seed deep, deep inside them. It is all he wanted.

A pair of young women approached him. They could not stop touching each other, they were so enthralled with their love making. They kissed and suckled each other's breasts, moved their hands up and down their lean bodies and pressed together, Finally they managed to reach out, each using a hand to grab Paulo's throbbing member where he hung helpless before them. In spite of the agonizing pain in his upper body, he reacted and thrust his hips into their hands, hands that were slippery with wetness from the women's cunts. He pushed, helping them masturbate him, thrusting with their strokes. He came almost immediately, the climax spreading pleasures that almost dulled the pain in his wrists and shoulders for a few seconds.

His cock bounced as his seed spurt out into the girl's hands. The collected his semen, letting it fill their hands as they urged him to give more. When his cock simply bounced with contractions, dry contractions that carried no more sperm, they took his semen and slid their hands between each other's legs, falling to the ground in their sexual ecstasy as they impregnated each other with his donated body fluid.

Paulo's agony returned moments later and he screamed in pain just as the two girls screamed with the pleasure of orgasm below him.

The End

Richard had died many days before. Paulo couldn't tell whether he was dead when the women took him down and removed him from the cross; all he knew was that Richard's cock had stopped becoming hard when the women came close, and he no longer gave sperm. Paulo had been hanging from the cross, force fed and watered, for many, many days. It was all he remembered.

It must have been a long time, for several of the girls showed visible signs of pregnancy. It was obvious in these women, they were so lean and muscular their flat stomachs showed any sign of distention immediately.

Paulo knew he would probably die soon. Pain in his body had become a constant, all encompassing thing, from head to toe. His hands were dead, blackened and fixed in unmoving claws. Fevers had come and gone over the days. Sometimes he was hardly aware when the women, some very young, too young, had come and milked him of his sperm. It was obvious as well that his pain, his agony, his slow death, was part of their sexual ritual of rebirth and fertility.

As long as he continued to give sperm, he was still alive and would remain hanging in the clearing.

His head hung and he hardly opened his eyes, even when there was a commotion in the clearing early in the day. When he heard screams and strange voices he forced his head up and saw the men. Two of them.

Their presence hardly registered with him. He was not capable of rational thought, though for a moment his mind convinced him that these men had come to rescue him. His body shook briefly at the thought, causing a minor increase in the constant all encompassing agony that was what remind of his life. But then he saw the men were naked, and chained, just as he and Richard had been.

The new men were chained to trees. They struggled with so much energy, energy that was long gone for Paulo. These men were healthy and new.

It was nearly over for Paulo. He had more sperm to give, perhaps that night, for his cock stood out hard and ready with the presence of the girls in the clearing. But it wouldn't last, and when he could no longer cum into the their hands they would cut him down and throw him away. He would be replaced by one of these poor men, who had so little concept of the agony and misery that awaited them.

And ecstasy. Yes, each time these women took his forced his sperm out and milked him dry it was a kind of ecstasy that merged with the agony to create a climax greater than he had ever known. He would miss that when he was dead.

His head sunk down and he closed his eyes, waiting for the fire and the orgy that encompassed his only reason for continuing life, however brief.