Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Two Weeks On The Cross

Jolene lay in the cell staring at the ceiling.

She had been in naked isolation for six months, never leaving this concrete, barren 8x10 cell. There was no privacy. She had no clothes and no sheets or other cloth with which to cover herself. On either end of the cell was a heavy glass observation portal with half-mirrored glass so that she could be observed at any time.

When she first arrived in the cell, it had been difficult using the toilet because she knew there were people watching her. Now she didn't care. The male guards had made many comments that showed they watched her all the time, there was no privacy.

Jolene was an especially pretty young girl with long brown hair and a fine body, and had always drawn the attention of men, whether she wanted it or not. It was no different now.

The food was slop, but nourishing. She was in good health, though her mind was beginning to crack from being locked in the cell for so long.

Her lawyer had been in and out that week, talking about the final appeals. He had tried to be hopeful, but she was incarcerated in Richland Prison. No one ever left Richland. She was surprised her lawyer was even allowed to visit her. The last time he visited he just shook his head.

Jolene was scheduled for execution. She knew this. She had broken the social justice laws, offending several protected groups including "Gingers", "Economically Disadvantaged", and "Tasmanians". Several of the times she didn't even know she had been offending anyone, and in fact still didn't know who the Tasmanian was that had been offended.

It didn't matter. Social Justice laws were strict, with no tolerance. Her execution was scheduled for Saturday at noon, in two days. The method was Crucifixion.

It was still unreal to her. That a civilized society would use such a horrible form of torture as punishment, and that she was going to be subjected to it.

On the other side of the mirror on one end of Jolene's cell stood two men and a woman. The woman and one man wore business suits, the other man wore the uniform of a prison guard, jet black.

"So warden, her appeals are up and we can proceed on Saturday. Noon," said the woman.

"Yes, Doctor Sykes. She is in excellent health, a perfect candidate for the experiment," answered the man in the suit.

The warden turned to the uniformed guard. "As prison executioner, you are to conduct the experiment. Do you understand the purposes? Have you read the brief?"

The executioner nodded. "As I understand it, the purpose is to see how long a crucified victim can be made to suffer the maximum amount, and yet be kept alive for the maximum time. The protocols are designed to balance the need for a slow, agonizing death, with the actions necessary to keep the victim alive."

Doctor Sykes nodded. "Right. Of course, we could probably keep someone alive on the cross indefinitely, if we were to feed, hydrate, and medicate them continuously. But this is an execution after all. So we are not trying to simply keep the victim alive, we are attempting to kill her slowly and with as much pain as possible. We wish to determine the best, most optimal method of causing an agonizing, prolonged death."

The executioner nodded.

The warden looked into the cell at Jolene. "She's masturbating."

The executioner acknowledged what the warden observed. "She does that at times. The cell is boring, stripped bare. I am surprised she is sane in any sense of the word. Masturbation is one of the few activities left to her."

Doctor Sykes looked on curiously as Jolene thrust her hips up, rubbing herself quickly, reaching orgasm.

"Saturday then," the warden said. "We meet in my office at 10:00 AM, and the execution will proceed at noon. The audience tickets are sold out, and the video feed is in place for all major networks."

---------------

That night the warden came to Jolene's cell. Now that her execution had been set and her appeals run out, she was no more than meat. She had no more rights. Her only real purpose was to die a slow, agonizing death on the cross, and as long as no one interfered with that, anything could happen.

Jolene saw the older gentleman enter her cell and wondered what was happening. She had never seen this man before.

"What... who are you?"

The warden said nothing. Jolene instantly knew what was happening and why the man was there when he unzipped and dropped his pants. She crawled back on the mattress, making a feeble attempt to avoid the inevitable.

It didn't help. The warden was on her, forcing her to the mattress. His hardened cock found its way between her legs and pushed, hard, forcing its way inside her. She screamed, though it would do no good. She knew no one would help her.

The warden raped Jolene, thrusting is throbbing cock deep inside her flesh pushing her body up against the wall with each thrust. His cock filled her, sliding in and out as he grunted and moaned until he shuddered in orgasm and withdrew, leaving her full of white, sticky semen. When he had finished, he stood up and commented, "It is a shame. You are a beautiful woman. A week from now you will be a rotting corpse."

Jolene rolled over and sobbed, knowing her death sentence had already begun.

Now that her fate had been set and her execution was certain, Jolene was fair game within the prison. Her rights as a human being had been stripped from her. The guards began to take her for their own pleasure. The next morning two more entered her cell and used her body.

The first, a gruff jail guard that had always been kind to Jolene, delivered her breakfast but before she could eat it, threw her on the bed and climbed on top of her. Removing his clothes his huge cock was exposed. Jolene gasped in pain when he forced it between her legs and into her body. He lay on top of her, his full, sweaty body pressing down on her light, thin body from above as his cock slid in and out of her cunt.

Before he was done another guard, a tall, mean black man, entered to join the party. His cock was even larger when exposed.

Jolene sobbed, crying out as the black guard tried to find a hole in her body into which he would fit.

Finally, the first guard rolled Jolene on top of him to ride his cock, and bending her over, the black guard managed to shove his cock into her ass from behind.

In that way, both guards took Jolene, satisfying their lust, pounding away in her distended and torn holes, leaving large amounts of white sticky semen inside her body to drool out after they left her. When those two guards left, it was barely five minutes before another prison official in a suit arrived to use the poor woman's body.

For the next two days, Jolene barely had a moment alone. A constant stream of guards and prison officials were pushing their way inside her at all hours of the day. Some visited her more than once. The smell of semen and sweat pervaded her cell. She was covered with crusty, dried cum. Her stomach was sick from having swallowed so much semen. Her cunt and ass constantly drained the white body fluid.

No sooner did she think she had a moment to rest and clean up than another rapist would show up to use her and deposit more semen on or inside her. She was exhausted, laying with her cunt and ass bleeding from the constant banging, her mouth sour and throat sore from the never ending visits of men abusing and using her body.

It all ended Friday evening. Suddenly she was left alone, and she fell asleep, and exhausted, used piece of meat. Every hole had been filled almost non-stop since Wednesday. For two full days she had been the prison's fuck toy.  Now she was being allowed to rest, to regain her strength for the execution ordeal ahead.

Saturday morning she was awakened by the noise of her cell door opening. She instantly crawled away from the man and woman entering, fearing yet another round of bodily sexual abuse. This time, though, it was Dr. Sykes and a strong, lean man in a uniform.

"Good morning, Jolene. Today is the day your execution will begin. I say begin because it will, in fact, take some time for you to die. This gentleman is your executioner, the person who will coordinate all the activities which will result, eventually, in your heart stopping."

Jolene looked in horror at the man. He had a kindly face, and smiled. Short cropped hair, a crisp uniform all gave the impression of a businesslike, efficient professional.

Dr. Sykes pulled out a couple of syringes. "Let's have your arm."

As she was injecting Jolene she explained.  "These are antibiotics. Fairly strong ones. They are designed to fight off infections you might get while up on the cross. This will prolong your life, of course. Unfortunately, your extra hours of life will be spent hanging from the cross."

Jolene was crying, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Please... don't do this. Kill me quickly. Give me a knife... let me do it. Just... don't leave me hanging there."

Dr. Sykes shook her head. "Good heavens no! You are to be the subject of an important experiment in capital punishment. The first time we are actually going to try and keep you alive as long as possible. Everything about you will be monitored and controlled to try and make your time up on the cross as long as possible."

The executioner chimed in. "We will, of course, not be unnaturally extending your life. Death by crucifixion usually comes about due to a number of different causes, or combination of them. Dehydration, or death by thirst, is very common. Internal infections or internal bleeding can also lead to death, sometimes due to the beating the crucified receive before being hung from the cross. For outdoor crucifixions, death can result from hypothermia, or hyperthermia; basically damage to the metabolism and organs due to exposure to cold or heat. Heat stroke or freezing to death."

The executioner kept talking while he made Jolene stand and started measuring her carefully. He measured her height, and then the length of her arms from her spine to her wrists, the length of her legs to her ankles, and to her knees.

The executioner actually seemed rather happy and excited while he explained how death might occur, and how his measurements were designed to assure they nailed her in place in exactly the right position to allow for maximum stress on the muscles and mobility that would allow Jolene to move about without truly being able to relieve the pain of her position on the cross.

Jolene sat back down on the bed, receiving her third shot, staring at the man, envisioning what it would be like to die from these causes, what it would be like to simply hang from a wooden cross for the last days of her life.  The man droned on for a while, but finally Dr. Sykes grew impatient.

"Jolene, dear. It is time to begin. We are keeping to the basic process of crucifixion, which some minor changes. We need to begin your beating."

Two guards were motioned in and Jolene struggled against them as she was dragged out of the cell. She was taken to a room that had a number of people sitting in chairs. She recognized her high school math teacher, as well as her ex-boyfriend. In fact, a number of old acquaintances were there. The were on the other side of a wire fence, separating her from the audience.

"These are some of your witnesses, those that chose to view your whipping. There will, of course, be a large number of witnesses to your suffering on the cross," explained the executioner.

Jolene's wrists were cuffed and locked above her head onto the wire fence facing the audience. Many of the people she was looking at appeared sympathetic. A few cringed at seeing her forced against the fence naked. One or two seemed excited.

Jolene's legs were forced apart to spread them. She was to stand naked, legs apart, covered with dried semen, in front of her friends and neighbors. Because she was strapped to a wire fence, the audience could observe the poor girl's full frontal nudity a she was whipped. The humiliation was overwhelming, but there was absolutely nothing Jolene could do.

It seemed like forever that she simply stood there, arms and legs spread wide before the audience. Her family was there, watching her. Some of her friends from school were also watching. They whispered and stared, pointing. Many were pointing between her legs and she felt the reason why. Semen was slowly dribbling down from her exposed cunt. It was humiliating for her family to see her like this. She closed her eyes.

Suddenly there was a hissing noise that warned her by a split second of the coming pain.  A whip sliced across her back, cutting into the flesh. It felt like fire, as if someone had pressed a hot poker across her back. Jolene screamed and temporarily sagged down against the fence. "Aaaaahhhh!!! NOOOooooO!!!!"

The audience reacted to Jolene's torment, many jumping at her scream, others turning away, cringing, averting their eyes. A few, the ones that were excited, opened their mouths in a silent "ohhhh" and stared.

As Jolene pulled herself back up into a standing position the whip lashed out again, striking her buttocks this time. Fire erupted on her ass, and she cried out, sobbing. As the whip struck her again, and then again, her body jerked and writhed, and she began to beg. She begged for mercy as she stared directly at the audience that was watching her agony. "Please... have mercy... I beg you...!"

How long this went on, she couldn't tell. It seemed like forever. Hours. But finally, as she sagged against the fencing and hung from her wrists, the whip fell silent. Some in the audience that watched her were sobbing. A couple of them were masturbating, secretly.

The executioner stood up and explained to the audience that the whipping Jolene had received was significantly milder than that normally dished out to the condemned. Her flesh, while red with welts, and not been cut. There was no loss of blood. Unspoken in was the reason. "So that she will live and suffer longer on the cross."

The next stage of the execution process now began. Jolene found her wrists and ankles unshackled. She dropped to her knees, temporarily unable to stand because of the pain from the whipping. Her face was wet from tears as well as the embarrassment of being exposed and her suffering examined by a group of friends and family at such a short distance.

She was lifted up to her feet by the guards, and dragged out of the building to an outdoor area. It was a sort of hill with gentle slopes. At the top of the hill lay a simple, wood cross. Jolene saw it and her breath caught for a moment. Such a simple device. A couple of wood beams. The instrument of her torture and death. She looked away.

The guards dragged her over to where the cross lay and threw her to the ground, but not before she saw the audience from her whipping slowly filing out of the prison building to surround her.

Panic overcame Jolene and she used all her strength to rise and try to run away. She made it barely three feet before strong arms grasped her, sliding along her naked wet skin but finally getting a firm hold of her by digging deep into her muscles. They pulled her back down, shoving her onto the cross. The beam crunched against her back, scraping the red, painful welts. She cried out again.

The reality of what was happening came home to her. She started to struggle and cried out continuously, but several of the prison guards held her down. Her right arm was stretched out and held in place.

The executioner had previously marked the exactly location on the cross where the spikes would drive through her wrist with a large X in black tape. The guards held her precisely in place and one of them produced a large metal spike with a wide head. It was wickedly sharp and when he pressed the tip against her flesh it poked a small hole and hurt. Jolene cried out and the guard laughed.

"Get used to it, bitch. It just gets worse from here." The guard was cruel.

The executioner had a heavy mallet. The guard held the spike precisely as the executioner directed, and then the first blow was dealt. The sharp spike sliced through Jolene's flesh like a hot knife through butter, penetrating and separating her flesh easily.

The spike was designed to be thin but strong. As it went in through Jolene's arm, next to her wrist, the metal point tore and shredded tissue and nerves, causing horrible, searing pain. But as the spike went through the arm, it did not break the bone. It simply pressed against the radius and ulna, pushing them aside and scraping against them.

The combination of all these actions caused immediate, horrible agony and Jolene's eyes went large and she screamed. The final reality of her coming agony sank home to her brain. The pain she would endure was far beyond anything she had imagined.

Once the spike had driven through into the wood, the guards let go of Jolene. She did not need to be restrained; just that one nail effectively held her in place.  She thrashed around, her legs kicking and her left arm flopped around. She tried to get up, but with one arm nailed in place, it was impossible without breaking the bones in her arm. She tried to pull her right arm away from the cross, but it was nailed fast.

The audience watched as the young girl flopped and flailed about for a while, in pain like an injured animal that needs to be put down. There was no such kindness for Jolene, though. Eventually, the guards grabbed Jolene's left arm and held it in place, the wrist positioned over the taped X on the cross.

Crying, sobbing, Jolene begged for mercy once again. "Please, humanity, please don't do this, just kill me, don't nail me again, I can't take it, please, please, please..."

Her breathing and sobbing actually made her body rise and fall, her stomach and chest moving in and out, up and down, breasts jiggling. Many members of the audience surrounding the condemned girl enjoyed this show.

The second spike was driven in. It took only a few blows to penetrate the soft, smooth flesh of the young girl and pin her arm permanently to the wood beneath.  When it was done, Jolene lay crying on the cross with her arms outstretched.

Her arms were not stretched out as wide as they would go, they were bent at the elbows. The position of the spikes was designed specifically to allow Jolene's body to hang down, her arms to rise up above her head in a V, and perhaps even allow her to fall forward somewhat. This extra slack allowed more movement on the cross, which in turn would provide for more pain and a better show.

Now it was time for Jolene to be raised up. Her feet were not to be nailed in until she was hanging upright. This procedure was strictly aesthetic; the image of the woman hanging from the cross, feet dangling free, was one that many wanted to see.

A deep hole had been dug near the foot of the cross, and four of the guards began lifting Jolene and her cross into the air. As she rose up into the air, Jolene's weight slowly shifted downward, and the extra slack came into play. Her arms stretched out tightly as she slid down and finally her body jerked to a halt when the cross was almost upright.

As she slid down, Jolene's wrists rotated on the spikes, a process that caused untold new heights of agony. It shredded more tissue, pressed on new nerves, scraped and dislodged more bone.

The screaming was continuous, stopped only for brief moments for Jolene to suck in more air.

In those initial moments, as Jolene hung from the cross on display for all to see her torment, a wave of horror and appreciation rolled over the observers.

Jolene's body was gorgeous. It was perfect and perfectly on display. Her arms, stretched above their head as they were, showed every muscle and sinew as she strained against the pain. The hanging weight of her thin body pulled her down, accentuating her figure. The flesh of her body was stretched across her ribs and hips, and her stomach was pulled in as it pulsed back and forth with her screaming.

Even her breasts appeared perfect, pulled up as they were from her hanging position.

Far from tainting the erotic and sexual exposure of her body, the signs of her agony and torment simply added to the sensuality of the display. She gasped, screamed, drooled fluid from her mouth that began to splatter on her chest and breasts. Her stomach pumped in and out as she breathed hard, panting and screaming. Her head thrashed back and forth, the only part of her body to really move, though her legs kicked some, as they were still free to move.

The executioner left Jolene to hang like that, simply dangling from her arms. The audience watched. Jolene screamed, but eventually her screamed descended to moans. She lost the strength to scream and her voice, her throat, was hoarse and torn.

Many members of the audience were family and friends of the condemned girl. They had been forced to attend, to observe the torment of their daughter, their sister, their friend, their lover. Yes, several of the audience had been lovers of poor Jolene, had actually been inside the beautiful body that now hung on display like a museum piece.

Finally the executioner gave the order to nail the girl's feet. This would relieve some of the pressure on her arms and chest, supporting some of the dead weight of the body as it hung.

Two nails were produced. Jolene's legs were lifted up, knees bent. She tried to kick and fight against it, but she put up very little resistance. Excessive movement simply jerked and scraped the wrist nails inside her arms and caused more pain; keeping still was the best way to endure.  She was also tired, and weak.

First the left foot was pressed against the wood of the cross. As before, the placement was marked exactly by the executioner to provide optimum bending of the legs, the maximum pain.

The nail was placed on the top of Jolene's delicate, smooth skin, and with one hard impact of the hammer violated her body once again, plunging through skin, muscle, and tearing nerves and cracking bones apart. Jolene screamed once again, spittle and drool spraying from her mouth.

The second foot was placed right next to the first and was nailed quickly.

The nailing of the feet didn't actually help support Jolene's weight that much. Because her feet were twisted straight down to lay against the vertical beam of the cross, she could not push down and lift herself enough to lock her knees. This meant that while her weight could be shifted to her feet temporarily, her leg and calf muscles would quickly give out and she would sag back down into the hanging position.

Jolene's legs were spread slightly. The nails, when they went in, forced a slight angle, which caused her knees to be spread a foot or so apart. Just enough to expose her sex to the audience.  Her parents hid their faces at this sight, her ex lovers dreamed of when their cocks had entered there.

Jolene simply felt agony throughout her entire body. The humiliation of being nailed and hung naked out on display was sinking in. There was absolutely nothing she could do. She had never felt so helpless. Not even when she was in her jail cell had she been this helpless, this vulnerable.

She couldn't even brush the hair out of her face. It hung down across the sweaty flesh and clung like it was wet.

When Jolene was at the six hour mark, a guard with a long stick approached. The end of the stick had a large sponge, soaked with water.

"Drink," he said. By now, Jolene was so incredibly thirsty she would do anything for some water, and she put her head out and sucked on the sponge. The water was mixed with vinegar, which made her mouth pucker. She sucked it in though. The water helped, the vinegar made her thirstier, and she cried out, begging for regular water.

The audience had changed. The pathway to the hill had been opened to the general public after the initial crucifixion process, which was attended by family and friends. Jolene saw the last of her friends leave her sight and a new stream of people come through gates and up the hill, gawking at her naked body.

She was incredibly humiliated and felt like her brain would break. It was not that strangers were seeing her on display, observing her naked body. It was that she was in massive amounts of pain, and the strangers were here to observe that. It was her agony on display, not her nakedness.

But she was unable to do anything about it. She couldn't even scratch the itch on her face, the one on her cheek next to her nose, the one where the fly was crawling around and was eating into her mind with frustration and making her scream out because her arms were nailed up above her and she could not move.

Jolene's body was shiny with sweat from the heat of the day, and crusted from the dried semen left from the numerous rapes during the last few days.

As the sun went down, the sweat dried and made her cold. She started shaking. Her body shook, and her arms and legs wanted to contract inward so she could curl up to conserve body warmth but she couldn't. Her arms and legs were held stretched out, so her entire body was exposed to the varying temperatures.  This was part of the torment.

Faces drifted by in front of her. Some winced at her obvious pain. Others cringed at the site of nails protruding through her flesh. Some smiled and smirked. A few she could see were discreetly rubbing themselves between their legs.

She cried, tears streaming down her face and washing some of the hair away from where it stuck.

Mostly, she tried not to move. Any movement, any at all, caused massive ripples of new agony.

Thing was, she was in agony without moving. Her body demanded to move. Her body wanted to run, to escape whatever it was that had damaged her, was hurting her. And yet any attempt to move, to run, to get away, simply scraped the steel nails against the bone and nerves of her wrists and feet and made her scream out to the delight of the audience that now watched her every move.

The dark night was a long one. She did not sleep, she couldn't. The pain would not have allowed anyone to sleep. But at sunrise she was offered another sponge on a stick. She knew it would contain vinegar in addition to water, to hydrate her and yet torture her. She sucked it up anyway. Every last drop. When the sponge was dry, it was taken away.

The vinegar made her mouth shrivel up and pucker, giving her the sensation of thirst even though she had just taken in a cup of water.

She heard someone below explaining that by giving the condemned water they prolonged the suffering, as the poor girl would not die of dehydration.

That meant her. She would not die, because they were giving her water. She resolved not to drink any more. She had to die soon. She had to.

Jolene's second day on the cross. Humiliation and pain. The stream of observers was constant; at any given time there were 100 people watching her has she hung and tried to breathe, tried to struggle uselessly into a better position.

Jolene tried not to cry out because each time she screamed or moaned it caused some reaction in the audience. So many of them seemed to enjoy it, or at least be transfixed with fascination. Her suffering had become entertainment.

She peed on the ground below her once every few hours. The first time had been almost immediately after being raised up on the cross. The pain, the mind blowing agony of her stretched body was too much for her and she simply lost control. Urine sprayed out of her without her even being aware it was happening until she felt the warm liquid wash her legs and saw the audience react with horror and fascination.

The end of the second day and she realized how hungry she was. Thirsty as well, she was dying of thirst. Just dying... her body screamed for water. And the sponge of water came again.

Don't drink it, she thought. They are prolonging your suffering. She had made up her mind. But... her mind couldn't do it. She had to drink. She was sooo thirsty. When the sponge reached her lips she reached out and clamped on, bit it, sucked on it like it was her mother's teet. She pulled every bit of moisture from the sponge and needed more, more! It was not enough!

But it was just enough to keep her from dying, from dehydrating. Not enough to relieve her thirst, not enough to stop the torment. Just enough to prolong the torment.

She sagged down on the cross and sobbed. Tears still rolled down her cheeks because she still had water in her body. Urine still sprayed out from between her legs. Her flesh was still shiny with sweat in the hot sun, because she still had water in her.

Jolene lived on, continuing to suffer.

Even so, hanging on the cross was taking its toll. On the third day it became clear she was having trouble breathing. She would pant, and then stop. Then suck in a huge breath, expanding her chest, making her breasts rise erotically, and then collapse down.

Drool dripped from her mouth. Her head was hanging so far forward, her arms bent back at the shoulders so her body hung away from the cross, that the drool dripped down to a puddle on the ground below her.

The executioner came from his breakfast to observe the victim's progress on the third day. "It is time. Bring the sedile!"

Jolene did not know what was happening below her, she simply hung from the cross where she was nailed.

A sort of board was brought. It was about two feet long, a foot high, and the top part of it had been nicely carved to a thin, pointed ridge.

Just behind Jolene's cunt on the cross was a small notch. A lip on the board was designed to fit into this notch. The placement of this notch had been carefully measured based on Jolene's body dimensions.

The executioner took a heavy pole and shoved up on Jolene's pussy, lifting her slightly. Feeling this push Jolene cried out, not in pain but in surprise and further humiliation at being manipulated as she hung.

The sedile was slid into place, the lip at the end latching into the slot in the cross. When completed, the wood board stuck out between Jolene's legs. Jolene sagged back down and found there was support for her weight now.

The support between her legs came to a sharp point, not as sharp as a knife but still a very hard, pointed ridge. It settled in and jammed up against Jolene's pussy, spreading her cunt lips apart and digging into her. Jolene's ass even slid to either side of the board, and its edge pressed into her perineum.

Jolene cried out pitifully. While the sedile gave her support so not all her weight was hanging from her arms and shoulders and the nails in her wrists, much of it was now pushing down onto the knife blade edge of the sedile.

Small bits of blood appeared after a few minutes of struggling on the sedile ridge. It wasn't that sharp, but constant writhing on it had torn some of Jolene's sensitive cunt flesh. Her sobs were almost continuous as she moved to try and relieve this new pain.

The only way to relieve the pain of the sedile was to push up on her nailed feet, and pull on her nailed wrists.  This caused unspeakable agony and the position could not be held for more than 30 seconds or so before her shaking muscles gave way and she sagged back down onto the sedile.

The sedile bit cruelly into the poor girl's soft flesh between her legs, pressing and smashing, separating and even penetrating her somewhat.

As painful as it was, the sedile did its job, lifting and supporting Jolene and helping her breathe. As a result, she was able to cry more, sob more, give the men and women that crowded around to observe her suffering an even better show.

And so Jolene's third day on the cross came to a close, the sun went down and the temperature dropped. Jolene's naked body endured going from being sunburned and baked in direct sunlight to the cold of the night. She shivered on the cross, her muscles tighter, her skin taught.  Spotlights flooded the area, lighting Jolene up from every angle so her suffering could be observed by those who came, and recorded by cameras from every angle.

Jolene had forgotten why she was there. Her former life was fading away. Her entire present life was simple agony, muscles cramping, nerves screaming out when she moved, bones threatening to crack and separate whenever she moved. She was an agony machine, a bundle of pain.

She stank as well, the stink of death. Many who came to see her held their noses or rushed away. The stink was primarily from the body fluids Jolene had released over the several days. Urine gathered in a puddle below her, of course. The wood between her legs was stained with feces from when she had lost all bowel control. It had come splattering out on the morning of the second day.

There was also the acidic smell of vomit, which smeared and covered the front of Jolene's body. Nausea had struck during the second day on display, and Jolene had found herself pumping up the contents of her stomach onto herself.

As a result, after four days on the cross Jolene stank. Observers that came to see her were assaulted by the smell. Jolene herself was aware of the smell, but only to a small extent. She hated it, but could not get away from it. She was, after all, nailed hand and foot to a cross.

Jolene had already outlived any other crucifixion victim since crucifixion had been re-instituted as a way punishing social justice offenders. Most died two days after crucifixion, with a few lasting until the third day. One or two had made it to the beginning of the fourth day but Jolene was well past the beginning of the fourth day.

There were arguments in the social justice execution committee about whether Jolene's crucifixion was actually fair. It was, after all, an execution. It was never intended that she simply take up permanent residence on the cross, receiving food, water, medical care and the like, and never die. She was supposed to die, in agony.

Dr. Sykes simply invited the entire committee to come visit the execution scene, which they did on the fifth day.

The committee members filed through the entrance and up the hill upon which Jolene's cross stood, and there was the naked girl, sagged down, crusty from expelled body fluids, smelling like death, dried blood on the insides of her thighs, breathing but not otherwise moving. Her body hung down and out slightly from the cross so her arms were pulled behind her body.

The committee members were shocked. Jolene was alive, yes, even conscious. But her condition was not anything like what they had expected. Her hands were in the permanent shape of claws, fingers bent inwards. Her hands and wrists were black from lack of blood and damage done by the nails. Her feet were a bloody mangled mess from all the times she had tried to raise herself up. Her cunt was bruised and bloody from the sedile.

Jolene's breathing was raspy and heavy. Her breasts heaved, and skin was shiny from sweat. Slowly she looked up from the ground, opened puffy eyes and looked at the committee. She didn't know who they were, but she begged anyway.

"Please... please kill me... if you have any mercy in your souls, please just kill me..."

The committee members returned to the conference room and agreed quickly to continue the experiment. Jolene would die, either from starvation, from infections the antibiotics could not fight, from exposure to the changing heat and cold, or from simple exhaustion. It would happen soon enough.

On the seventh day the sedile was removed and Jolene sagged down so her entire weight was held by her arms. The pain was mostly in her back, chest, stomach and hips now. Her wrists, hands and feet were essentially dead and numb. The rest of her body was in remarkably good shape.

This was proven when the hose was turned on the suspended girl. A high pressure water hose sprayed her body and began washing the dried, crusted fluids off. The pressure was enough to shove Jolene to the sides, pulled and yanking on the nails. This caused new pain, new kinds of cramps, and new screaming.

Then the power wash of Jolene's body was done, she looked better than she had when first suspended on the cross. Her body was smooth, flesh glistening with the water in the sun. Muscles were stretched and could be seen easily, her ribs drawn tight and visible beneath flesh. She was significantly thinner now. She was starving to death, of course.

They continued to give her antibiotic laced water, and she continued to drink. It was only given once a day and when it came she was so thirsty she couldn't help herself. She needed water, no matter the consequences.

On the eight day she was humiliated in special ways. Her family was forced to attend, as were all acquaintances and her old co-workers. The crowed watched as their friend, sister, daughter, former lover Jolene hung from the cross for the eight day. Her body was subjected to indignities.

First, she was masturbated with a dildo. A large one. It was worked up inside her vagina from below. When Jolene first felt this she cried out, "Why, why?"

"Because you are a social criminal, and deserve to suffer as an example to others," came the response.  The dildo shoved deep inside her and then was pulled out. As it was shoved in and out of her bruised and damaged cunt, her family watched in horror. A couple of ex-boyfriends watched in interest. They took pictures for later.

Jolene was then given an enema. A huge one. Her stomach distended out in a bloated ball and she cried out once again, "Oh, god, oh god, please no, please... aaahhhhhh!" as the two gallons of water were forcibly pushed into her bowels.

When the enema was released a steady stream of water came out while Jolene sobbed. There was nothing to purge from her bowels, she had not eaten in over a week, so the water ran clear as it splattered over the wood of the cross.

Jolene had her nipples pierced. Two large rings were inserted into the holes and weights were placed there. They pulled Jolene's fine, firm breasts down, making them sag like old woman's breasts. It hurt, but what hurt her most was everyone watching as this was done to her.

A vibrator was attached to Jolene. A variation of the rabbit vibrator, it had a dildo portion that extended up into her vaginal cavity. An extension of this man phallus rose and pressed against her clit. It was designed and computer controlled to elicit orgasms from women in the most effective way possible. It was strapped in place, and turned on.

Jolene would never have believed it possible. Her entire body was in agony, her arms cramped and stretched all the way down to her shoulders. Her back cramped and ached. Her wrists and feet screamed out in pain. Her flesh was burning in the sun, and inside, her internal organs were revolting, causing nausea and internal pain. And yet, through all this, the vibrator worked its job, stimulating the pleasure center between her legs, slowly arousing her.

There was no choice. She didn't want to be on display for all these people watching her agony, and now watching her have an induced orgasm. But there was no choice. It happened, slowly, but it happened. The vibrator started slowly, then began to increase the strength of vibrations, massaging her clit. She jerked her hips, trying to dislodge the thing, but that did nothing but cause new waves of agony in her wrists and arms that almost made her pass out.

Finally she gave in, and relaxed. The vibrator continued to work on her, slowly bringing her cunt to a climax. There, hanging from the cross, Jolene's cries of agony became mixed with the cries of pleasure as her first orgasm took hold.

Yes, first orgasm. For the executioner left the vibrator in place. It sensed her climax and reduced its stimulation to a very low level. Then, after about a half hour, it began again, automatically increasing its stimulation and forcing yet another sexual climax from poor Jolene.

The audience of observers delighted in this show. The humiliation of being crucified and then forced to orgasm before the audience... for many it was the purest expression of the crucifixion agony.

Five times over six hours Jolene was forced to orgasm. It was humiliating in the extreme to have her body manipulated in this way for random strangers, and even her family and friends to observe. But her body, her life, were no longer hers. Sexual pleasure became simply another form of hideous torture for Jolene and she sobbed, her face covered with tears of pain and embarrassment.

Finally, the vibrator was removed, but the last humiliation was yet to be committed. The executioner fucked her. This final indignity was done by placing a short ladder in front of the condemned. The executioner greased his cock and mounted the ladder, and then mounted Jolene. Everyone watched as she was raped on the cross, unable to move to stop it in anyway. Jolene was as helpless and vulnerable as anyone could be.

The humiliation took its toll on the girl. On the ninth day she looked bad, as if she were near death. Somehow the rapes, the enemas, the piercings had caused a deterioration in her condition. Jolene hung without moving, her flesh grey and pulse weak.

Water was given to her, but she refused it for the first time. Her desperation to die was taking hold. She no longer wanted to exist, if existence meant hanging from this cross. She had grown very thin, and the holes in her wrists and feet had expanded. There was risk that she might come loose, because the nails had worn larger and larger holes in her flesh.

So, as a precaution, ropes were tied around her wrists to keep them in place.

She hardly knew what was happening.

The crowd of people flowing through to observe the poor girl had not slowed. The sadists, the masochists, the idly curious came to see the naked girl on humiliation display. She remained a beautiful sight.

On the eleventh day, Jolene took some water, but it was clearly because she was delirious and didn't know what she was doing. She sobbed at times, other times she spoke in a cracked, insane voice, talking about the people that stared at her below, or of some fantasy kingdom. She babbled about being Xena. At one point she begged a young man in the audience to come to her, to place his penis inside her, for she wanted his sperm. She had lost her mind, but was still on the cross, still suffering, still dying, slowly... oh, so slowly...

They stopped giving her water on the twelfth day. Everyone agreed she was close to death, though no one knew exactly what would cause it. Hunger? That usually took up to 30 days. Thirst? She had enough water to keep her alive. Infection? Perhaps, the antibiotics could not fight the impact of the dead flesh of her hands and feet.

On the 13th day the guards discovered a couple having sex behind some trees where they had a view of poor Jolene's body hanging from the cross. They were positioned so both could watch Jolene's suffering as they fucked and came to sexual climax. It was apparent this couple had been there several times over the previous week, watching the girl's suffering and using it to drive their sexual ecstasy.  The guards let the couple finish, grunting and straining to their climax, and then threw them out.

Jolene was unconscious at the beginning of the 14th day. While her body was much thinner than two weeks before, it was still a lovely sight, stretched out on display. Her face was no longer twisted in agony all the time, but held the peace of unconsciousness. Her breathing was barely discernible.

No one knew when she died, exactly. Death is not something that happens all at once. Various parts of Jolene's body stopped working, one after another, until they all were done. Her body continued to hang there, body fluids dripping out of her various holes.

Eventually she was drained of body fluids. There was no more urine, no more saliva, no more tears. Blood no longer flowed. She was dead.

Jolene's body was left on the cross for two more days as interested visitors filed past. Now she was dead, the visitors were allowed to come up to her and touch her cold body.

On the 16th day, her body was removed from the cross.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Nice story, especially liked the gif you used for the whipping scene, so hot. I also liked the aditional tortures, they should have use red hot irons on her too, and allow the crows to pick out her eyes while she was still conscious.

Old Madiosi said...

Very impressive. When reading it tickling in my stomach.

Anonymous said...

Nailing the feet to an angled wooden support instead of flat to the upright might have given her more up and down movement, increased the pain and possibly extended her time on the cross. Just an observation.