The following totally fictitious writings of Faibhar are intended for the sole readership of those of LEGAL AGE. The ADULT ONLY material contained within is also for personal use only where local standards permit scenes of extreme violence, torture and sex. Please do not read further if any of these subjects offend, or if you are not of legal age. The following is for your sole enjoyment and your cooperation in not using the material in any other application without the express permission of the author is requested. Thank you. Faibhar
CRVCIFIXION Rape, and various tortures she could probably endure. Sethra was less sure, however, of death on the cross. "You do seem far less intimidating strung between that colonnade as you are." The leader of what remained of local opposition to imperial forces glared back at her nemesis, M. (for Manius) Hostilus Trenus. The self-appointed ruler of Cosa, and all around, pompously planted himself in his sedan chair some six feet before where she was held. A tactical move forced her retinue of resistance forces into a valley swamp. An ambush awaited. Those that survived were taken prisoner; the females to the brothels, males to work as forced labor. Sethra twisted her spread limbs. Above the sky was nearly cloudless. Glaring sun flooded the tabernae, or booths filling the main intersection of the city. Everywhere there seemed farmers. money-lenders, fish-mongers, butchers, merchants of every description all hawking their wares. Sore wrists and ankles held. Youth tusseled atop the booths. Already figures were jockeying for the best view as they scurried atop the merchants' huts for a closer look at the defiant female leader, now captured and chained to the columns. Trenus adjusted his tunic for a more comfortable position in the chair. It had been a welcome relief to rid himself of the battlefield dress. He crossed a bare leg and considered the beauty before him. "Let us see more of her. Remove her armor. Start with those leggings that I suppose pass for greaves." Sethra refused to look down. She could feel fingers tugging and loosening the leather straps helping to wrap sheaths around her shins. Someone else lifted off her brown helmet. Waves of ash-blonde hair fell out and over her shoulders. Hazel eyes flashed anger at the timid approach of a legionnaire. He ignored her glance. The dull finish of her breast-plate lifted away as his bare arms worked loose the fittings. Under the shade provided by the slave holding a large fan over his bare head, Trenus' face broke into a thin smile. He greatly approved of the young adversary now splayed before him, and helpless at his mercy. Sethra wore the tunica beneath her armor for protection against bruising. Now that she was left only with it, it felt too revealing. The presence of her sisters would not help. Many of them were dressed from neck to ankle. Those that wore only tunics were slaves. Much of the bustling commerce of the marketplace ceased and many strange eyes turned to her. Trenus lifted a hand. Ruby set in gold flashed as he waved his index finger. He pointed to a line numbering under ten of his own men. Golden dye colored horse-hair plumes from crested helmets. "You, Claudius, may be first." Sethra clenched her teeth. Fingers balled into fists. She closed her eyes. What she had expected was now to begin. Shouts of encouragement for the soldier and jeers for the enemy banged the emporium. Many knew rumors of heroic virility were partly fostered by the soldiers, but the tales entertained. Clauius, they had heard was one of the best endowed. Wool ripped apart as he attacked. Petite female breasts popped out from a muscled torso as the tunic was torn. Sethra tilted her head back and felt the sun on her face. Her eyelids parted. From behind the cheek-pieces and crest of the bronze helmet shaking close to her own face dark eyes glinted back. A rough hand pawed her tender breast with its small ring of pink and tall nipple. She felt the rest of her tunic ripped away. A huge male organ bobbed below. It rammed into her. Sethra gasped, then shut her mouth. Her eyes widened as the gross member stabbed into her dryness. She grimaced and tried not to cry out as it plunged deeper. Her feet seemed to lift off of the ground with each thrust. Metal from the helmet scraped into her face. Animal-like grunts met each thrust. Trenus relaxed in his chair and enjoyed the rape. Idly he scanned the rooftops of the booths. Freemen on them wildly gestured and cheered on Claudius. He patted his glossy black locks and returned to watch the action between his man and the enemy leader. Claudius expended himself and pulled out. Semen flowed out from between her legs. Flecks of crimson streaked the off white juice. Trenus waved his hand once more, and spoke to the remaining five. "Let's go. Who's next?" Sethra was unchained. A wide metal collar remained around her neck and she was led by iron links to kneel over a low bench. Spectators eagerly jumped down from vantage points fought over on booth rooftops to get in line behind the kneeling nude. The scream issued combined pain and anger as she was sodomized. Attempting relief, Sethra hugged the bench. A blurred procession just beyond shuffled past tear-filled eyes. Breasts and ribs slid over the rough bench as more pounded into her. The chain-gang was what remained of her men. All looked beaten. All were nude. To Sethra's disgust, she saw that some of the men were partially aroused as they watched their leader being raped. "Time for that extra-special morale boost for the troops, Sethra." Trenus toed the fallen chin. A hair full of head rose until he saw the sweat and tear-streaked face. He nodded to a centurion. "Take her over to her men." "No! Never!" Sethra cried out as she was placed before the young archer Threthr. He was always one of the first to volunteer. Now his manhood dangled partially erect before her forehead. "You may have a change of heart," Trenus said, enjoying this new diversion. He nodded, and as he did, the centurion shoved his gladius, or short sword, through the man's neck. Rich blood spurted as the soldier fell in a heap. The audience cheered, but Trenus silenced them and spoke to Sethra who knelt over the fallen archer. "There are five of your people remaining." His tone filled with whining frustration. "We all know how women of your clan behave, rather wantoningly I should say," Trenus paused to bask in the laughter of those around. "So spare us further delay. Save your men further tribulations and service them. Spray your face, as well. I hear it's good for the complexion." Sethra wiped tears from her face and moved to the next captive. Looking up, she saw a stout figure she didn't recognize. "That's better," he said and waved to the laughing crowd. Marciana, a mistress had joined him. He sat her on his lap. The two of them watched the kneeling leader finish her shaming task. Eyes remained closed, but they could not shut the visions, or the sounds of gales of spiteful laughter. She gasped on hands and knees. Hair hung like darken cave walls around her semen-coated face, but it offered little shelter. Memories were bile. Trenus whispered in Marcianna's cute little ear that he wanted the bitch chained for the night to their bedstead, just like a pet, but his mistress protested that the female was too "icky". The corrupt provincial "governor" compromised. Lifting Marcianna off his lap and standing, he ordered that slaves take Sethra for a cleaning before being chained in his chambers. Pumice stone removed all body hair. Water in the public bath dripped as one female slave braided Sethra's blonde hair. Another dabbed fiscus coloring to Sethra's lips and over her pronounced nipples. Perfume was added. When done, and Sethra delivered, chain was secured around the base of ivory steps leading up to Trenus's bed. Attached to the other end of the chain was the metal collar wrapping around Sethra's neck. Oil lamps sputtered and flickered. A female slave stroked Sethra's shiny braid and whispered for her to rest because she was to star the next day at the arena where she would have to fight wild animals. Exhaustion already had plunged Sethra into a deep sleep.
CRVCIFIXION, Part II Early the next morning, while Trenus's house was still quiet and most lamps were extinguished, a hand cracked a slap over Sethra's upturned ass. The hand was a woman's and it quickly retreated to join the rest of its owner in the bed above were Sethra lay chained. Giggles and male chuckles broke the early-morning calm. "Shall we do it again?" The female's voice giggled, but said no more. Groggily lifting up her head from the thin mat she curled on, Sethra heard tussling noises above. She fell back to sleep as the moans of Trenus and Marcianna making love continued. It hardly mattered. The marble underneath the mat felt cool. Sleep returned. Later that same morning, more in the household arose. Sethra clambered to her feet. At the top of the steps leading to the bed Marcianna stood. Brunette curls fell in disarray. Thin fingers clutched a vestes stragulae, or purple blanket, around her. Ornate gold figures embroidered the material. Trenus's mistress coldly eyed the nude captive as she fingered jewels on the elaborate necklace. Slightly turning to face back into the bed, she reported that the "bitch" was still there. Servants came to help her down the steps. Trenus sleepily stretched his body. Looking out from the bed at Sethra , he also step out, shook a hand through his hair and walked down to the floor. A slave offered Trenus a robe to cover his nudity, but he refused and walked out into the sunlit atrium. He would savor breakfast with Marcianna, and gods willing, greet the new day in all his and its glory. Other attendants came for Sethra. The chain locking her to the base of the ivory and gold steps was unlocked and she was pulled from the house to be taken to the amphitheater for preparation. Trenus shifted. The gleaming silver muscle cuirasses, or breastplate, he wore with its carved Medussa head, griffins, acanthus leaves and tendrils across the abdomen was impressive, but the whole thing was becoming more and more uncomfortable as the day's heat increased. That, and it was hard to sit pleasantly in his chair with the big hunk of metal wrapped around his chest. He resigned himself to suffering the price of fame. Besides, from where he sat, the arena presented an especially coveted view. The roar of the spectators struck Sethra as she entered the ring. The amphitheater appeared full. Gaily-colored banners snapped in the light breeze from the tops of the ring. As her eyes adjusted to the bright sun, she could make out Trenus and other patricians seated across the sand. Trumpets added to the noise of the crowd. That whore, Marcianna , must be somewhere in the higher seats. The usual roster of male gladiators entertained, but all eagerly anticipated this moment of the games. In the arena below, they cheered as a lone female entered. The single braided blonde hair many had seen the day before now waved freely. Taut muscles clearly shown. The beauty had been equipped with a pilum, or short spear, a small shield strapped across her back a leather sheath held a broadsword and holding it ran a wide strap across her chest. And wore nothing else. Sethra gripped the pilum. Battlefield experience taught her that it was a Roman device meant to break just after it was thrown at the enemy, so that it could not be used in return against their army. Good idea, but she hoped this one would stay together. Mixed in with the crowd noise, she heard a growl behind her. Whirling around, she saw it. The black bear was huge. Standing on its hind feet made it seem even more of a giant. She quickly back-pedaled toward the center of the arena. The bear followed. Saliva dripped from its open jaws. Claws, each the size of her head, flexed. Bared teeth flashed. It waddled closer, clearly antagonized and unafraid of the human it tracked. Black eyes glistened over the thick snout. Foul breath went with the temperment. She didn't want to get to close to Trenus's box. If she were to be ripped to shreds by this wild animal, she did not want to give him the satisfaction of a close-up. Stopping just his side of the center, she faced the bear. Cocking the arm holding the spear, she aimed and let it fly. The blow to the chest felled the bear. As it dropped, the spear shaft broke away, leaving the spearhead deeply imbedded in the animal's heart. Sethra ran toward the fallen bear to get the shaft. Pools of dark blood flowed out from its chest. The menacing jaws gaped as if frozen. She picked up what was left of the spear. More horns blared and she whipped around. From out of one of the gates strolled a lion. It sniffed the earth, tousled its mane and spotted Sethra standing away from where the bear had fallen. Slaves were retreating with the carcass, leaving a bloody wake in the sand. The lion roared. Fresh meat was in the air. The crowd roared back. It bounded across the arena toward Sethra. She feverishly checked the straps holding the shield on her left forearm as the big cat came closer. The shield wasn't much, but might offer some protection. Just under 130 lbs. was nothing to stop over 700 pounds of wild fury. The lion leapt as Sethra held up her shield. The blow knocked her backward. She hit the sand hard. The growling beast followed through. Claws from a giant paw swiped. The leather sheath and strap were ripped away. Sethra rolled as the lion pounced again. Good for her, she had earlier removed the blade. The lion landed for the kill, but instead, met the upturned broadsword. Dust blew as she achingly crawled from under the killed beast. Sethra was too exhausted to be aware of the salutations from the fans. She hardly was aware of being lifted up, freed of her shield, and then placed back down on her hands and knees. Hair dripped over her eyes as she tried to catch a breath. The crowd cheered more than just the bravery and prowess of the female. They also cheered the arrival of Trenus riding in great splendor in his parade chariot. With him stood the lovely Marcianna. Slaves pulled the vehicle to where Sethra remained on all fours. A cruel bit was placed between her jaws. A harness fastened Sethra to the chariot. At Trenus's command and swing of his crop, Sethra pulled. On hands and knees, she towed the chariot and its passengers from the amphitheater. Crowds went ballistic. Their leader snapped the crop again and more bronze muscles flexed as they worked to pull the chariot out of the stadium and into the city streets. Most planned to follow. Little seemed more important than the spectacle before them of their victorious leader pulled by the once-proud resistance leader. "I love you", Marcianna said as they rolled out the amphitheater. She wrapped her arms around Trenus to hug and kiss him, but kept one eye on the female harnessed before them. "Please, may I have your crop?" She bussed Trenus's cheek as he gave her the thin leather, and then looked with both eyes at Sethra's rear. Between the strong thighs she glimpsed what she was looking for. Marcianna swung the crop hard at the shaven vulva, swollen from yesterday's abuse. Sethra choked on the bit as the crop hit. Her head jerked forward. Legs and hands clawed the stone street to pull harder. She winced as the same spot was hit again. Sethra pulled more. Unable to close her mouth, drool spat out. She tried to wiggle her hips to ease the pain, but to no avail. Marcianna had found her target. She swung again, though harder this time.
CRVCIFIXION, Part III Constant scraping across the paved stones rubbed her knees raw. Every motion became an effort. For every time she faltered, the stinging lash proved a painful reminder to surge forward. Streets lined with patricians and plebeians alike, all exhorting forward progress and lamenting her lack of virtue. The knees left a dark wake. Trenus snarled at Marcianna riding in the chariot next to him. "Why is it," he said with a frown as he glared at what used to peek out as a healthy pink but now slashed between Sethra's upper thighs more as a beet red. "That you always seem to aim to hit her there?" "I do not!" Marcianna did not care for the tone. Besides, the welted ass pulling them testified to her choice of other targets. Trenus was wrong and could keep his opinions to himself. Her arm cocked for another salvo. He roughly grabbed the upraised arm and stopped any hope of further forward momentum. At the same time, reins yanked back, jerking his chariot to a stop. "You disgust me woman. Get down from here, NOW." Marcianna shuddered as she acquiesced and her hand let go of the crop. She knew well of Trenus and his temper, but seeing his face this close she saw that he was furious and one not to haggle with. She stepped off of the chariot. Trenus jumped down. With his right hand he tore off Marcianna's aquamarine stola, exposing the gauzy blue tunica she wore underneath. He ripped the fine cloth to shreds, stripping Marcianna to the waist. Those closest hushed at the sight of the Trenus stripping his mistress. Sensing his anger, and wishing to curry favor, they began to chant Cunnus, and Merda. What came next pleased them all. Sethra let her head drop as the reins bending back her neck eased. She stopped. A servant approached carrying a small clay jar with the face of someone on it. Sethra opened her mouth and sipped. The cool beverage from the pot she knew was posca, or watered down wine. Parched as she was, she drank with gusto. From the corner of her eye she saw the muscular legs of a soldier. Stumbling with him she saw the much smoother legs of a female. Marcianna fell into view alongside her. The mistress didn't look, but stared straight ahead as a bit similar to Sethra's and harness were fitted. Trenus grabbed the arm of a bystander, and yanked her into the street. The black slave screamed as she was pulled. He reached for the neckline of the slave's coarse tunic and ripped it just like he had torn Marcianna's clothes. The slave was harnessed on the other side of Sethra. Now having three females pulling, two naked and the one in the middle nude, Trenus gripped the reins for all three and cracked the crop. His drove his white and gold chariot as it bolted forward through the crowded city streets. Pulling was somewhat easier with the other two alongside. Marcianna seemed to be straining, and both of them already sweated from the humiliation and exertion. Trenus's former whore had full tits that swung from side to side. They looked to Sethra to have much shorter nipples than hers, but the aureolae was much larger. On her right, the black grunted as she pulled. Her tits shone, too, but they were less full than Marcianna's and dark purplish nipples capped the hanging mammaries. Trenus enjoyed the ride. Passing through the main arch and onto the provincial road, he went a few meters and turned off onto the clivus, or small road, just outside the archway. The narrow path steeply wound up the hill. He appraised the incline. With three healthy human mares pulling him, the rise looked like no problem at all. He basked in the adoration of the jubilant crowds following and lining the small hillside rode. He again swung his crop. The chariot surged forward as it began the climb. They stopped at a small plateau two-thirds of the way to the summit. Trenus dismounted and ordered drink. Emptying the chalice, he ran a finger of perspiration from his brow and told the servants to water the "mares". Taking a refilled chalice of fine wine, he walked over to where several military men stood beneath a sturdy branch. Looking up at the limb, he nodded approval. He spoke briefly to a centurion whose own armor was much plainer than his imperial getup, consisting mainly of the usual overlapping iron bands held together with leather. The helmeted man called out for the two liberti. Trenus drank more as the two ex-slaves stepped forward. One looked like he could be Germanic, the shirtless one was probably a Mongol. They looked menacing. Both sweated from the full leather helmets each wore. "Bring me," Trenus said, and noted that poor Marcianna lay exhausted in the dirt. "The leader who dared to resist." The wine tasted refreshing as he watched infantrymen shove aside Marcianna and the requisitioned slave. "I have plans for the other two, but first the rebel." Sethra felt numb. Hands and fingers removed the bit and the harness. She was dragged over to where Trenus stood next to two hooded men and made to kneel. Trenus addressed the gathered. "One of these men," he gestured toward the two liberti, will win the use of one of my whores." He handed each a three-strand scourge and accepted a wooden box brought by the centurion. Patting the Germanic type's shoulder, he said, "Show us what that scourge of yours can do to that tree trunk." Sethra watched with the rest as the man swung the lashes. Its barbed tips cracked against the bark. Bits of wood cleaved from the trunk. A cloud of dust flew. The throng filling the plateau ooo'd and awww'd. Three gouges marked the wood. Sethra shivered. More of the tortures she had first imagined were about to begin. "Their contest, is simply that, the one who swings the hardest at this one," he said and patted Sethra's head, tapping her head with his ring. "Wins." Applause greeted their leader's latest folly as he opened the wooden box held by the soldier. "But first," he said after putting on mail gloves and reaching into the open lid. "This is for you." Sethra saw him gingerly lift from the container what looked to be a crude crown. Free of its box, she saw the crown consisted of three woven strands of pointed thorns. They looked very sharp. Her eyes tracked the dark head-shaped ring as it was raised by Trenus and held to hover over her own head. She frantically twisted her wrists but they had been bound by rope. The circle with its sharp points hovered overhead, and then descended. Consciousness returned with a vengeance. Sethra hung by her wrists from the branch high above. Blinking away water burning her eyes she made out Marcianna and the slave, still tethered to the chariot. All of her body ached as it hung. Trenus stood off to the side, crowds all seemed to be gawking at her. Her upper arms stung. Peeking from the corner of one eye, Sethra saw that the gap between her upraised arms was too narrow. Thorns from the crown had not only cut into her scalp, but also, her arms. Water dripped from her face as she hung her head. Long pink nipples innocently returned her gaze. Dots and streaks of crimson mixed with droplets of water ran down the white skin. The last thing she remembered were thorns stabbing her head and soldiers hitting her with rods to lower the crown as it cut to just above her eyebrows. They must have revived her with splashes of water after she was hung. Trenus moved and stood behind the bunched shoulders. He arranged the flowing gold that was quickly changing colors as more and more blood matted its locks and luster turned to muddy brown. "We don't want this constricted. Her ankles are free, and each of these fine gentlemen you see wearing the hoods," he nodded to the German and Mongol as they took positions. "Will try their very best to use those scourges to spin her around, and win a date for tonight or whenever." At the drop of his hand, the two on opposing sides of Sethra balanced themselves. The one behind swung first. Sethra head flew up as fire slashed across her lower back. Thorns snapped as many making up the crown tore into her biceps. Sethra's mouth gaped and eyes winced. She kept from screaming, but the force from the scourge also spun her. The Mongol was prepared. As soon as the female began to spin, he mightily swung. He would reverse her swing. She coughed and choked at once. Force of will kept her from crying out at the agony erupting across her lower ribs, but it was impossible to keep the spittle from flying out. The world spun the opposite direction. Seeing his chance, the German swung and this time his lashes crossed over the original three he made. Spurting blood blurred the lines as he watched the female twirled back. Hair flew confusedly in all directions. Sethra shook her head, oblivious to what damage such spasms caused thorns to rake her arms. And then it happened. Her head was wildly swinging down and she glimpsed the fraction of a moment when one of the barbs sunk into the base of her nipple. The barb whipped from the right, and the impertinent nipple was swinging to the left. She saw a flash of gore as the metal slashed through flesh and then darkness covered her vision.
CRVFICIXION IV "Like they say," Trenus casually set one boot on a fallen log as he spoke following scourging. By the looks of her slumped head it was plain that she was unconscious. A twitching toe told him she still lived. "Good show, but sorry, no cigar." The two liberti swore under their breaths as they pulled off the hoods. Sweat dripped. The Mongol looked as though he were about to answer Trenus when the small bags of coins were tossed to each. "Consider these consolation prizes. Neither of you won, despite your best efforts. She never screamed." Marcianna and the slave both wondered what was to happen to them. They did not have long to wait. "Take the two bitches to brothels," he said and shrugged his shoulders with hands extended in a seemingly helpless gesture to the two disappointed foreigners. "Cut the other one down". Sethra moaned as she fell. Dirt her cheek rested on, and open mouth breathed felt warm. With the least of interest did she pay any attention to the male's approach. The amber plume atop the centurion's helmet tilted as he stopped. Cold eyes gazed down at the tortured. He ordered slaves to bring water. Swinging his right hob-nailed boot, he kicked the female in the ribs, knocking her over onto her back. More water was ordered Squatting down, one hand gripped the bleeding tit. He used the other to wipe away the scarlet film. The long nipple that got snagged in the scourging now stood as two tall spires that angled away from each other.. The centurion grunted and reached for his medical kit. He was an expert at field repairs, but this was to be his first female. Gnarled fingers gripped the needle and thin twine. "You aren't going to give me any trouble, are you?" Sethra slowly rolled her crowned head toward the voice. She saw only the bronze cheek pieces and hard lips of the centurion's face. She laid looking at the helmet and lips as help was called. Other hands stretched out her arms. Elsewhere, cold water and cloths wiped. Sethra and the voice seemed detached from all else. Aside from the one tear that split the nipple, two other bleeding welts crossed over the compact tit. Damage was one thing; but it still felt good to hold. The centurion felt a pulse throbbing in the warm mass as he passed the needle and thread through the nipple's base. Sethra stood once more. She had been revived, washed, sutured and now stood on her own two feet. The scourging was bad, much worse than she expected. The mere thought brought back revulsion. Thoughts changed to what came next. Pavement ended past the plateau. Many wagon wheels cut deep ruts in the narrow trail to the summit. The path was short from where they were, but inclined even greater than before. Two legionnaires placed the patibulum, or cross beam, behind Sethra's neck. Lacerated arms were pulled back and over the wood. Ropes held everything together. They let her bear the full burden. Once sleek legs quickly bent, as did her upper torso. Shoved forward, her path swayed in seeking balance. Feet stumbled over the first of the dirt trail, avoiding the deep ruts as they began the ascent. Trenus heard Marcianna and the slave girl's screaming protests fade away as they were led back to town, but his concentration was more on Sethra. Tight lips cruelly spread. Washing the bitch had been a good idea. Not only had the water revived, but the lash marks were more distinct over the pale body contours. Only a few streaks of blond could be seen, and those were mostly along what was left of the center part. The rest of her hair hung in strands colored dark with matted blood, gore, grime and sweat. Weight from the patibulm clearly challenged her. Watching this wild animal killer stumble was much more interesting than anything Marcianna could ever utter about her fate. Sethra blinked the sting from her eyes. It was not surprising that she already bled and sweated. Her heart pounded. Watching footing and balancing the incredible weight needed all she could see. Those wearing tunics on this hot day were smart. Exotic perfumes of the wealthy mixed with forest smells and more baser odors of the poorer. Few togas were seen on the hillside as the heat sweltered. Military men stoically accepted hot armor, but stowed woolen red capes. Patricians sweated with plebians of all sexes. Military merely endured. Only the tortured was nude. She technically wore the crown and certainly the marks of lashes and other mistreatments, but for the most part was nude. It had little to do with the soaring temperatures and everything to do with public humiliation. So far, the humiliation aspect of punishment did not seem to be successful, which only proved to many how wanton and deserving of persecution was this brazen one. More stung her vision. Wary of losing any step, she plodded on. Her foot slipped. The ankle twisted. Sethra gasped as she lost balance and fell. One knee broke her fall. Two infantry lifted up each end of the beam. Sethra rose with it. A slave wiped her face. She could see once more. More of the watered down sour wine burned her throat. She greedily gulped more. A staff in her back prodded her to continue. They let her rest on both knees at the summit. Sethra panted and gasped for air. She ignored the flies. There was no way to twist around and look back to where she had come, but Sethra was still amazed that she had made it. From the side, she saw a purple and silver toga appear. Trenus let his gaze travel into the valley.. From where they were, the hill sloped down until it reached the valley floor. Brown and green vegetation turned into a mammoth rock quarry. Across the limestone wound a small fresh water stream. Naked male slaves could be seen at the spring house toiling with buckets of water lifted from the stream and onto the aqueduct leading to the city. The valley opened to a vision of the Gulf of Therhhanian. He rested a ringed hand on the warm wood and felt it lean toward him as he placed his weight. "Yes, those across the way, by the stream, are what remain of your men. Surely, you recall them?" Sethra blinked away more sweat. She could not forget being forced to service them. Trenus needed no reply from her to know the answer. He was merely baiting her. "And over there is the beautiful water of the bay. But...enough of looking at the pretty scenery: I have a proposition for you." She didn't want anything to do with the bastard. He had already caused too much sorrow. But, she did listen. "Renounce your cause, whatever that is," he chuckled and removed his hand. "And I will set you free. Continue in your stubborn ways, and THAT is what awaits you." He pointed at the tall upright rising from the center of the rocky flat and smiled to himself as he saw the kneeling Sethra also look. Its dark shape against the lighter background down below sent shivers through Sethra. She knew what it was. If she did not agree to Trenus's conditions, she would hang crucified from it. Her insides knotted. "Oh, too bad," he mockingly said. "Time's up. Besides, you make a very, very pretty example." More orders were shouted. Trenus disappeared from Sethra's side and she felt herself once more lifted to her feet. The weight of the wood seemed heavier when all of its heft bent her forward a second time. Someone planted a boot in the small of her back. Momentum did the rest. Spectators laughed and tried to keep up with the running nude. Parties scrambled with her down the slope. Sethra tried stopping, but the heavy weight on her shoulders and the hill made that impossible. Feet dug into earth, but just as soon jumped up for another step as she plummeted closer to the valley floor. The same ankle twisted again. Sethra fell, and this time did not land on one knee, but on her entire front. Still, she slid. Clouds of dust and debris flew from the flying body with the wood across it. Pebbles, dried grass and dirt scratched as she slid pinned under the patibulm. Smacking into the small boulder finally stopped her slide. During the slide, her position had turned parallel to the valley floor. Hitting the rock stopped forward momentum, but also struck lower ribs. Sethra lay panting. Each quick breath stabbed more pain. She didn't know if the stop had broken her ribs, or merely bruised them. It didn't matter, breathing was an effort. Excited voices grew louder but she did not look up: Just being able to breathe had become all important. "Turn her over," the centurion said as he arrived. Soldiers lifted up one edge of the cross beam and let it and its human cargo tumble over. "Damn, I did good work, and now look." He cursed. The suturing of the torn nipple had come undone in the fall. Black gore and thread oozed from the wound. The rest of her was smeared with blood and grime. "Gets some of those slaves over here and clean her up." Trenus arrived after the others-he had far too much dignity to run. The throng parted to make way for him to reach the fallen. "That ankle looks a bit swollen, I'm not sure she can make it the rest of the way." He winked at the centurion, but there was little mirth in his expression. The centurion caught the message. He paused and then said, "Let's go men. Grab a foot. We'll drag her to be crucified."
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".
CRCVFIXION, CONCLVSION Coastal fog cast everything in the gloomy light of the new day. Purple-colored vegetation dotted a muddy blue on hills bordering the valley. Shards of strewn pebbles on the quarry floor presented variations of dull grays. Posted sentries huddled around a weak campfire swathed in tightly wrapped brown cloaks in hopes of warding off the early morning dampness. Sethra barely moved as she hung high atop the cross. Numb limbs long ago refused further exertions needed to move up and down the upright in excruciating attempts for air. Hanging as she now did, she learned survival was possible by the slightest in and out movement of her belly. As long as her joints held, that is. Earlier fears about facing challenges posed by various tortures and ultimately crucifixion proved well founded. Her head hung groundward, arms extended far behind her. The shredded back away from the upright as she pondered her fate. The Romans were right; crucifixion was ignominy. Soldiers stirred from their campfire as the centurion approached, but the old supervisor wasn't concerned with a surprise inspection. He seemed more interested in the condemned. His crest angled back as he appraised the rebel. In his hand he held an object and handed it to the nearest legionnaire. "Looks like she'll be needing this for today." He handed over a small wooden seat, or sedile. Set atop it rose a column of iron nuggets, each larger than the next. The rough pile, or cornu, was a little longer than a man's palm and tapered as it approached the sedile to about the thickness of two fingers. "Men get some ladders and lets put this thing in." Breath came more easily for Sethra as she sat upon the small seat. The cornu hurt, at first, but hanging with her arms nearly straight out was worth the pain made inside her anus. Her back, mostly abraded from the hillside and across the rocks, now rested against the upright. Not only were her limbs numb. Across the way a short column of slaves tramped in chains to the springhouse. She recognized the naked males. They glanced her way as their fettered march continued. None smiled. On the order of the centurion two of the arriving slaves were commanded to each bring buckets of water. Grooms ran down the hill from their stables in the city. Soldiers met the grooms and took from then the currycombs that they attached to long staffs. Sun burned through the overcast skies and more color was added. Chop in the bay sparkled, blue sky replaced the gray and surrounding greenery started to actually look green. The quarry, however, remained a pewter shade with the exception of those present. Contents of two buckets were thrown up high. Water dripped from Sethra. The rag around her waist darkened as the water sloshed. The two slaves were then commanded to use the staffs with the currycombs and scrub their leader's caked wounds. Her head rolled as she cried out. Coarse bristles scraped away scabs and rubbed raw what uninjured flesh remained. Thorny points sank into her arm as she laid her head on it. More scrubbing forced her back away from the upright. The move actually thrust her into the wrath of the bristles. Sethra screamed again. When more sun broke through, she quietly whimpered and rested her crowned head on another arm. Water splashed a second time. Much was washed away. The centurion looked up at the female. Already the day was warming, he thought. Soon either bees or ants or birds would find the bitch. He cursed and pulled at the already hot neckline of his uniform. He could only imagine what Trenus was up to at this very moment. Back in the city's most fashionable district, in one of the wealthiest homes, in that home's boudoir lay a naked Trenus. Spending the night with Julianna had been time well spent. "Enjoying breakfast?" He heard her coo and felt her delicate fingers in his hair as he sucked the small grape from her navel. "Yes, as a matter of fact I am." An errant thought crossed his mind as he chewed the moist tidbit from its tasty warm vessel of how Sethra, the rebel, must be doing. There, but for the grace of the gods, he thought, go I. Trenus smiled, swallowed what he could, and licked the remainder. Fini
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