Quiet Paul
Tribune
Wow, Ba
Wow, Barbaria, this is just amazing. So detailed, so intense and so graphic. The section on the rack is so vivid and erotic. Thank you. Looking forward to getting to the next parts!A Day in the ArenaIt’s late in the afternoon, the shaft of sunlight that comes through the only window above us has moved to the far corner of the cell. Since waking a while ago, I have been lost in my own thoughts, replaying over and over in my brain the passion that just passed between Siss and me. I hold her protectively in my arms as she sleeps curled up against me, head resting on my chest. I have come to love her.
Part V. On the Rack
Siss stirs, turns on to her back. She is still asleep, breathing evenly at last. I stroke her blonde hair, brushing a few strands away from her face. She looks so peaceful, serene.
I gently reach out to touch her right breast, lightly tracing with my finger tip, barely touching, her smooth soft skin. I lightly touch the crinkly tip of her nipple; she stirs and I stop. Her breasts are perfect – full and round, with sweet pink areolas around the nipples. I resume my exploration, tracing my finger down her sternum and lightly over her ribs to the flat, downy surface of her tummy, around her deeply indented naval, and then down to the soft fleshy mound between her thighs and over the enticing cleft between her lips.
My juices are flowing; she is stirring; stretching; I want to throw my leg over her thigh and rub myself up and down on it like she did on mine just a couple hours earlier, to relive the ecstasy, but it is not to be.
I hadn’t heard them approach, but our gang of goons burst suddenly through the door, yelling at us to get up. We are dragged to our feet and pushed together. They have brought with them several buckets of water to clean us up.
We cling to each other as the icy content of the first bucket is dumped over our heads, followed by two more thrown at us from either side. We shiver as the icy water runs down over our bodies to the floor.
We are told to straighten our hair. I’m handed a comb. Obediently I set to combing out some of Siss’ blonde snarls. I watch as my combing sends a stream of water down her spine to the small of her back at her narrow little waist before cascading in dozens of tiny rivulets across the soft flesh of her buttocks. I note that the red lines left on her skin by the whipping look a little less angry than they did before. I hand the comb to her; she turns and fusses with my long brown tresses.
Meanwhile our handlers are busy outside the cell preparing for our torture. We focus on combing each other’s hair; afraid to look up to see what they are doing.
Then they come for us. We leave our cell, and gasp in horror. They have specially prepared the wooden torture rack for us; set it up to stretch two victims side by side. The whole machine is tilted at an angle so that onlookers standing at its foot will have a clear view of the proceedings. On one side a fire pit has been stoked up. Several irons are heating in the fire basket, their tips already glowing dull orange. On the other side is a low bench, on which there is an array of torture implements: whips, cudgels, pinchers, rippers, etc.
Our handlers shove us forward toward the rack. They seem to be in a hurry to get us up on to it. They obviously expect the officer to return very soon. They lift us up and throw us on the wooden frame like a couple of bags of sand. Our arms are fastened securely above our heads in the nooses of rough rope attached to the chains that lead to a heavy roller.
Siss is screaming, her legs flailing about, her body twisting about. I am shaking in fear as the goons hold us down and secure our feet at the ankles, roughly two feet apart so that our are thighs are slightly spread. The smell of stale burnt flesh and blood from the rack is sickening.
The goons rush about preparing for the fun. We both lift our heads and look over our outstretched arms into each other’s eyes. It is clear Siss sees the fear I am feeling and is truly terrified.
I try to reassure her. I tell her we are together and I will be by her side, but under the circumstances my words are less than comforting. “What are they going to do to us?” Siss asks. I just say, “Try not to think about it, Siss! I’m here for you. You have to know, you will always be in my heart. Think of last night and all the wonders of our love, this will be over and we will be together as soon as our fathers tell them let us go because we have nothing to do with all of this. I’m sure our fathers will find a way to make this right.”
I hear footsteps approaching. Suddenly the room is full of men. I raise my head; I see the officer and uniformed guards. The guards are dragging between them two very weary looking men; they have been beaten, they are bruised and bloody. I immediately recognize my father and Siss' father.
The officer and the guards bring them to the foot of the rack; force them to look down at us. "These are your daughters, your own flesh and blood. They are innocent of your crimes," intones the officer, “but unless you relent, you will watch them writhe in pain, cry out for mercy as they are hideously tortured. I can promise you we can make them die horrible, unspeakable deaths on this rack. Talk now, or I will order there torture to begin!"
Siss and I both raise our heads and look imploringly into the sunken, weary eyes of our fathers. We want them to save us, please save us! We can see the surprise in their eyes – the confusion and mixed emotions, the deep hurt that seeing the two of us stretched out naked on the wooden frame before them is causing them. But we can also see that – despite the great internal conflicts they must be struggling with – they will remain loyal to their comrades; they will choose to sacrifice us – their own daughters – rather than give up names.
Our fate seems sealed. “Oh, God no!” screams Siss as the rollers on the rack began to move and the chains to which our wrists are bound begin to rattle.
“Oh! Daddy, please don’t let them do this to us,” Siss begs, shaking and squirming with sheer panic. Reality sinks in. She turns her head back toward mine. “I’m with you … I’m with you … Barbaria, I’m with you” she says with a hysterical sob.
The rack is set noisily in motion. Our bodies are being stretched. First our arms are pulled tight over our head; I feel my inner arms pressing against the cheeks of my face, the rope nooses around my wrists cut deeply and painfully into my flesh. My legs, which had been bent, are drawn straight. I can feel my backside sliding upward along the rough wooden surface of the frame.
We are stretched until our bodies are taut; and then ever so slowly – the ratcheting device at the roller above our heads clicking loudly each time – our joints and muscles are stretched to the limit. Intense stabs of pain shoot up and down my body. I grit my teeth, grunt, then open my mouth and scream.
My voice reverberates off the stone ceiling of the chamber. I look over at Siss. She looks at me.“I love you! They can tear off my arms and legs but I will still love you! They will never take that away” Siss says just as her eyes roll back in her head. She lets out a terrifyingly horrible scream as the rack sounds another click.
I realize through the fog of pain in my head that the rattle, clanking and rumbling of the machine has come to a halt. Our handlers are switching to other forms of torment.
One of the goons appears through my tear-clouded vision; he has a wicked looking pair of pliers in one hand. He reaches over me and squeezes the claws of the pliers together around the tender erect nipple of my left breast – pain shoots through me like a thunderbolt. I bellow like a wounded animal.
Then it gets worse. He produces a long thin needle, stretches my breast away from my body with his pliers, and then slowly and excruciatingly drives the sharp point the needle into the sensitive tip of my nipple, and down into the soft supple flesh of my breast, before withdrawing the needle quickly. I nearly pass out.
Gasping, I raise my head to examine the damage to my aching breast. My nipple and areola are smeared with blood; a trickle of blood runs down the side of my breast and across my ribs.
Siss is screaming hysterically at the top of her lungs. I look over to see her favorite goon drawing the tip of a red hot poker across the swells of her mounded breasts just below the nipples. I can hear the hiss of the glowing tip searing the surface of her fair skin.
My own goon is now wielding a red tipped poker over my body. He seems to enjoy playing with me, bringing the tip close to my skin so that I can feel the intense heat and so that he can see my wide-eyed terror, and then without touching me moving the tip to another location. Finally, he does it. I scream and writhe in agony as he draws the searing tip across my flat belly and over my right hip.
Siss and I are both seared with the poker again and again. I don’t know how long we can stand this. I look to my right, Siss has passed out. Buckets of ice cold water are thrown over both of us to keep us awake and aware of what is happening to us.
But before the goons can resume our torture, the officer calls for a pause. The guards prod their prisoners. The two men are asked whether they want to reconsider. They slowly shake their heads.
“Proceed”, commands the officer. The rack begins moving again. I didn’t think my body could possibly be stretched any more than it already was, but I was wrong. My arms and legs ache, my shoulder joint feels like it is about to separate. The pain is so, so intense! Mercifully the machine is stopped before my arms are literally pulled off.
The goons reappear. They are again brandishing red hot pokers, but this time the pokers have a large blunt tip, rather than a narrow sharp point. I realize something new is up. My head is yanked up by the hair and a block of wood is placed beneath it so that I am forced to look down the length of my racked naked body. I see the officer and his men, and their two captives staring back at me. I turn my head. The same has been done to Siss.
Then, with absolute horror I realize what is going to happen next. The glowing hot pokers are placed between our legs. I can fell the intense heat on my inner thighs as the irons are slowly moved up toward my waiting sex. I turn to face Siss; my fingers reach for hers.
“I’m holding your hand, Siss … Siss, please hold my hand!” I say, as my heart pounds faster and harder than I have ever felt.
“I’m holding it, Barbaria … I’m holding it, please don’t let go” Siss says, wincing and sobbing as the white hot metal comes ever closer.
The deliberately slow, inexorable advance of the glowing tip toward my defenseless womanhood continues. I can feel the searing heat against my outer lips as the white hot blunt tip approaches its intended target. I instinctively tighten my stomach muscles and clamp down to keep the blistering tip from penetrating me when it arrives.
I begin to howl in terror; Sis joins my anguished wailing. The skin on my innermost thighs begins to blister; I can smell the singeing of my flesh.
But suddenly the room is filled with the loud authoritative shout of a man accustomed to command. It is my father. He is ordering them to stop. The officer nods to our handlers. Clearly disappointed, they withdraw the irons from between our thighs. “Yes, I knew it was just a matter of time, wasn’t it,” says the officer, who is quite clearly pleased. He orders his men to take their captives to another room. He turns toward us, gives our gasping, panting naked bodies a good long look, then turns on his heel and leaves the chamber.
The machine jerks as the tension in our bonds is released. We lie there together as our handlers go about the business of clearing away the paraphernalia of torture. Our hands are released. Siss and I lay there, exhausted. Our arms and legs shake with spasms. I can see her trying to reach for my hand but her arm just shutters and drops to her side.
“I didn’t let go” she says, almost smiling.Never have I felt so much love for another. She is my everything, and we are free. I want only to forget what has happened to us and to walk with her proudly for all to see.Our father’s fates are sealed but our life together has only started. It will be like a dream that never ends.
They come to take us off the rack. We are too weak to move. We are picked up and carried – surprisingly gently – out the door. As we are carried along, presumably to be given our clothes and released, our handlers are engaged in idle conversation, then they turn to the latest news.
What I hear sends shivers up my spine. The emperor has just issued a proclamation. Tomorrow will be a public holiday to celebrate his triumph over the cabal of treasonous generals and senators. A public spectacle is planned. The conspirators, along with their entire families, will be publicly tortured and crucified in an elaborately choreographed day-long event on the floor of the arena!
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