CRVCIFIXION, Part V
Loose sediment crackled underfoot. The day's heat radiated from the valley
floor. Trenus sweated as he strode closer to the upright. On the ground lay
Sethra.
"These are for you," he said as he rattled the metal contents of the bag next to
her one ear. He knew she heard despite the shut eyes. Despite their refusal to
look up, and a mouth that kept opening and closing like some guppy, he knew she
heard the iron clink.
Looking down her undulating torso he saw one leg stretched out flat, the other
bent at the knee and pointed outward. Had the bitch no shame, he wondered? Her
vulva, swollen though it may be, gaped open for all to see.
Surely, a Roman woman would have more modesty. Trenus slapped the open thigh
shut.
"Oh...Trenus, darling?"
He looked over his shoulder at hearing his name called. Julia Paulina, a wealthy
matron Trenus knew well was waving. He rose and walked towards her gilded
lectica.
She lay on the portable bed with its gold engravings, ivory base and silk
interior. One delicate hand greeted his arrival. Curtains on three sides
shielded her from the unwanted. From the diaphanous gown Julia wore, Trenus saw
she wore little underneath.
"Don't you think you have been cruel enough for the poor woman, you bad boy
you?"
Trenus gritted his teeth. Julia stirred his emotions. "That," he said, and
pointed behind him at Sethra. "Is because you are here today as a widow."
Before Julia could reply, a tremendous cry rang out from where he gestured.
Trenus immediately knew its source. At last, the prisoner uttered a scream
He didn't have to look; sounds of hammering and wailing told him all he had to
know. The knowledge made him hard. He leaned into the lectica and dove his
tongue into Julia's mouth.
Pleased with his ardor now focused on her, she wrapped arms around his muscular
neck as they kissed deeper. Despite the relative coolness of her sedan, she felt
hot, almost swooning from the heat. Releasing Trenus, she whispered for him to
be at her villa this evening, but to leave his cruelty behind. He promised her
not to be so "mean" and left. She watched him march back to the one to be
crucified and luxuriously licked her lips.
Sethra planted both feet and arched her back as she screamed. She rolled her
shoulders and tried to stop the centurion from hammering more. "No! No!! No!!!"
"Get her arm and hold her down," he growled and tightened his forefinger and
thumb around the crusty iron shaft. Already its point had broken the skin, but
he had much more to do, and didn't need any squirming on the woman's part.
The senior army man wiped bloody fingers across pleated leather on his toga.
Another slam hit the spike's head and this time he felt the iron plunge deeper.
One more strike and he could go to work on her other wrist. If only beads of
sweat did not blur his vision.
Smudged fingers he knew would leave a bloody smear quickly dragged across his
brown but this was no beauty contest and at least the blood was not his.
Her head cried out as it rocked from side to side. Deep sobs held from within
released. Sethra long ago forgot all about her injured ribs and the stabs they
hampered each breath. Her chest expanded and retracted as they knelt her up.
Hands helped her to stand. She was afraid she would fall backwards, but the
upright stopped her fall as she and the cross beam were leaned against it.
"So. How does it feel to now be part of nature?" Thin lips slowly spread as they
stood in front of Sethra. He hoped she appreciated his witty reference to not
exactly hugging a tree, but being pinned to one. Even if she did not, he thought
the remark somewhat humorous.
"Doubt that this will be of much use anymore," he said and pulled the dangling
bit of sodden makeshift stitch hanging from the split nipple. The piece held at
first as he tugged, and then slid free.
"Though you'll probably want to wear this," he said and wrapped the rag around
her lower hips. "Save you at least total exposure in your ignominy. We wouldn't
want that now, would we?"
The fallen head didn't bother to answer. Sethra paid little attention to her
mangled nipple and barely felt the thin cloth wrapped around her. She was more
concerned with the nails in her wrists. Looking out to one arm, she saw the
black spike head protruding. Rich blood slowly dripped from where it entered
her.
Trenus grimly smiled as soldiers looped the ends of the beam and fed the two
ropes to another on a ladder. He put the ropes through a ring on the top and let
the loose ends fall to the ground.
"Let's not forget our friends the bees, right?" Trenus removed his broadsword as
a slave girl approached. She carried in her two hands another small clay pot. He
dipped the tip of the blade into the pot and scooped out a thick glob of honey.
"But, we don't want to make things too easy for the little buggers, they'll just
have to find on their own what they're looking for."
Sethra locked her jaws as she felt the flat of the blade slide under the loin
cloth and smear the mixture from Trenus's sword over her. She also felt the
sharp edges of the blade slice her inner thighs. Sethra shook her head and swore
under her breath that she would not scream again, as the sword cut. Tears
silently ran from her eyes.
Trenus was playing more games at her expense.
He withdrew the blade and patted down the rag. Trenus reached for and found the
other two nails. He held them up so that Sethra could see. "You've done well, so
far. But, you still have two more to go. And these, well, these are much larger
than the first two spikes."
His head looked away. "Someone, wipe her face clean, and throw water her front
and back with water."
More posca was poured down her throat. She could see again, and even swallow now
that the dryness was gone. The spikes swam before her as Trenus held them up. As
horrid as the thought of them being nailed into her, she still was fascinated
and her eyes locked on them.
"But do trust me. These," Trenus looked at the long iron in his palm. "These you
might actually look forward to."
Those gathered stood silently as they witnessed the macabre scene. Almost as
soon as the order was given and cross beam pulled, Sethra began to scream again.
Long arms lifted to a shallow "Y". Frantically kicking feet shook the upright as
they left the ground. Many murmured to fellow spectators on how quickly the
crucified seemed to learn to plant her feet on the upright, but with nothing to
hang on to, the soles slipped back off. Tortured tits spread almost flat as
extended arms bore more tension. For many, the writhing torso and excruciating
shrieks proved difficult to watch. Tangled strands of matted hair whipped under
the thorny crown.
The centurion held a mallet and the two remaining spikes in his hand. He ordered
two legionnaires to grab her feet. The three pushed hard until both feet were
more or less side-by-side and flat on the upright. Above, the lacerated knees
bent and pointed outward. The loincloth, now well soiled, did little to conceal
anything. Sethra's swollen and honey-coated genitals were easily seen by anyone
from the ground. Crimson streams flowed down each inner thigh pointing to where
Trenus's sword had sliced.
More powerful strikes from the mallet affixed her feet. Sethra, the defiant one,
hung crucified from her tree of shame.
A sign was hung above her head. It read, "Rebel Slvt".
