How thoughtful! Just what we needed. Thanks!!
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A Day In The Arena
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
How thoughtful! Just what we needed. Thanks!!
messaline
Crucified Amazon
hum...
I agree with Tree: it's a great description, a very well done writing and it's not too frequent that we can read such a story:
BRAVO LES FILLES !
I agree with Tree: it's a great description, a very well done writing and it's not too frequent that we can read such a story:
BRAVO LES FILLES !
My "like" is for this side of the text....
Nonetheless, I'm a little disappointed by the emotional side...
I was waiting for more deep feelings from who is telling the scene:
she's nailed to her cross, her lover too, and she knows that they never will be together, but none thought, none scream of revolt...
I recognize the moment when she makes a kiss to Little with her mouth, but it was what I was more waiting, more signs of love, of mutual supports...
Anyway, it's my opinion: dont take it bad, Barbaria and Siss: I was trying to do a construtive critisism...
Be sure that I like this story and I repeat:
BRAVO LES FILLES !
Messa...
hum...
I agree with Tree: it's a great description, a very well done writing and it's not too frequent that we can read such a story:
My "like" is for this side of the text....Nonetheless, I'm a little disappointed by the emotional side...I was waiting for more deep feelings from who is telling the scene:she's nailed to her cross, her lover too, and she knows that they never will be together, but none thought, none scream of revolt...I recognize the moment when she makes a kiss to Little with her mouth, but it was what I was more waiting, more signs of love, of mutual supports...Anyway, it's my opinion: dont take it bad, Barbaria and Siss: I was trying to do a construtive critisism...Be sure that I like this story and I repeat:BRAVO LES FILLES !Messa...
Fair comment Messa...but there is one more episode to come...which i think will contain more of the emotional side you are looking for ....we are saving the best for last!!!
Barbaria
Messa is romantic, Barbaria, perhaps because she's French...
I'm more preoccupied with love and passion than with only description of the scenes...
Perhaps it's my main failure....
Absolutely no failure Messa...romantic is good
!!!!!!!!!!!
LittleSiss
Sorceress
Yupar
Regina Iudaeorum
but most European like those Françaises ....................much
I'm more preoccupied with love and passion than with only description of the scenes...
Perhaps it's my main failure....
just because their romantic ideas
Nice one!
Congratulations, so in two thread Barbaria and Co. topped 10,000 views in one month!
T
T
and weeks and much likes goneAs Siss and I prepare the final installment to our "Day in the Arena" story, I am so pleased to note that the thread has reached 11,000 views since the crash of the CF site! Thank you so much everyone for all the support and attention!
A Day in the Arena
Part XI. Denouement
The strong rays of the late afternoon sun beat down, casting long shadows of hundreds of crosses – each carrying a tortured human burden – across the dark crimson-spotted white sands of the arena floor. The heat that has accumulated on the floor of the arena is intense, and rises upward in shimmering waves.
Siss and I have been suspended from our crosses now since mid-morning. Nearly a full day of constant struggle and relentless pain on the cross has sapped our physical strength; were it not for the cornua, on which we are so cruelly impaled, we might well have succumbed by now.
Many of the hundreds crucified around us already have – mostly the weak, but also those who have been fortunate to receive a lance in the side or a bone-smashing blow to the legs to hasten their deaths. Many still live, however, suffering – as we do – to what seems an endless ordeal before the eyes of the tens of thousands who never seem to tire of the spectacle. Indeed, even though it is late in the day, the crowd seems as numerous, loud and boisterous as ever.
We remain the center of attention – the unfortunate objects of the crowd’s derision and bloodlust. Spurred on by the demands of the crowd, our executioners have been relentless in the torments heaped upon us during the long afternoon hours.
Helpless, we have endured together the sting of countless whip lashes and the searing heat of dozens of hot irons pressed to our naked flesh – anything to make us squirm, twist and scream to the delight of the crowds.
My body aches. I can scarcely feel my feet anymore, except when I try to move them. The fingers of my lifeless hands are curled inwards. The rough wood of my stipe grates against the scourge-torn skin of my back.My sex burns and bleeds from the rough and deep penetration of the blunt cornu affixed to the stipe between my legs. The muscles in my legs are knotted and sore.
My head lists from side to side, resting first on one arm and then the other, sometimes lolling forward toward my chest until a new spasm of pain causes me to jerk it back upright again.
My throat is terribly parched from the heat of the day. To keep me going at this late point in the afternoon, my executioners offer me a wet sponge on the end of a lance, placing it before my cracked lips. I lean forward greedily to suck moisture from the proffered sponge, and out of the corner of my eye I notice Siss doing the same. The sponge is offered again and again, until I have taken my fill.
For the past few hours Siss and I have suffered more or less alone… lost in our own thoughts and focused on our own pain and deepening exhaustion. But now with the sun dipping and the taste of water on our parched lips, I feel some return of my senses and a renewed interest in my surroundings.
My thoughts return to Siss and our solemn pact to meet the horrors of this day together, to overcome the ordeal through the wonders of our newfound love.
Despite my weakness and the pain of movement, I turn both my head and body toward her, and my spirits lift to see that she is doing the same.
Our eyes meet. Siss’ eyes widen, as do mine, with the realization that we are still holding on to life, still there for each other. Our love has endured through it all, through all the horrible, horrible things that have happened to us over the last two days – through the long night chained to the wall of a cell waiting to be interrogated, through the horrors of the whipping, the racks and the hot irons in the interrogation room, through the naked coffled-walk through the streets of Rome and the late night rapes we suffered outside the arena walls, and through the humiliations and tortures in the arena leading up to our scourging and nailing. We have endured it all, and are still here, together!
My poor, sweet Siss! She is here with me only because of my father’s greedy ambitions, and yet our love for one another is stronger than any cause or recourse. I mourn over what they have done to her. I gaze sadly at her soft tender skin, now torn and battered and bleeding. I am taken aback at the way in which the combination of hanging on the cross and sitting on her curved cornu has so cruelly extended and stressed her body. I see how her soft supple belly now stretches so tight and taut, how her ribs look like steps on a hillside leading up to the fullness of her scarred and blistered breasts. And yet she is still so lovely, in my eyes.
A wave of comfort fills my soul. If there truly is a place after death for the souls of the dead, we shall be there together – and one – for the rest of time. If only death could take us soon, take us both away from this arena spectacle, with all its shame and sorrow.
Our tormentors take advantage of our slightly renewed energy. They descend on us once again, and begin with a series of well-aimed lashes to our breasts and bellies. One hits me square on my already battered and seared nipple. I wince and let out a long scream of anguish.
Siss is screaming my name as a renewed rain of whip lashes strikes her body, “Oh, Barbaria; oh Barbaria …. Please, please hold me, keep me …. AAAHHHIIIHHH, it hurts so much!”
I hear my name, and twist toward her to answer. I want to call out her name but a hot iron poked into my ribs turns her name as it flows from my lips into a long drawn out shriek. I want to speak to her, to tell her of my undying love for her, of how we will be together just as she said we would on our last night in the waiting cell below the arena floor. But the constant torment inflicted on my poor body turns all my efforts to speak to her into incoherent babble punctuated by long horrible screams or pitiful whimpers.
But through it all we manage to maintain eye contact. I am struck by the magnetic beauty of Siss’ blue eyes, and touched by the look of intense concentration on her sweet face as she struggles to hold me in her loving gaze. My mind races back to our tender moments together, to our frenzied love-making alone in our cell, and with those images filling my consciousness a kind of peace descends on me despite the continued tortures applied to my body.
For some time now we have been left alone. The sun is beginning to slip behind the walls of the Arena; the long day is drawing to a close. Siss and I continue to fight against our exhaustion, focusing our entire being on simply looking into each other’s eyes. We call out each other’s names from time to time; taking solace from these desperate exchanges. We are both near death and want to be sure our love is known to each other before we drift away.
Out of the shadows, and through my increasingly clouded vision, I see our tormentors approach. They carry bundles of large faggots and begin to stack them securely beneath our feet. Dark oily pitch is spread on our legs from the knees down to our broken feet.
This is the final event of our long choreographed day in the arena, and surely our final dance for the thousands still wanting more amusement. One more frantic struggle, one last insane dance of pain as our feet blister, cook and char.
As the torches ignite the bundles, and the flames rise up to lick at our knees, Siss turns her towards me to scream,
"DON’T LET GO BARBARIA, PLEASE!
DON’T EVER LET GO!!!
LittleSiss
Sorceress
.
.
RacingRodent
Consul
Brilliant. Very well done both of you. A tragic tale but very apt for this place and powerful on so many levels.
I hate when they are shown mercy...
Very well written and thought out.
A straw hat off to y'all
Tree
Very well written and thought out.
A straw hat off to y'all
Tree