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The Fish Pond

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Trying to write this story for me??

Seriously, all these comments are welcomed and useful, and are making me log on several times a day, rather than the once I used to, just to read them.

The story of Judith's doom is coming along nicely.

Sorry, these are things I think about. I'll try to limit myself to comment on the story you've written rather than where you're going with it. Please write it as you see fit, it's your story!
 
6.

When the noises of the city died down we could hear her up high up on her cross. Moaning, whimpering, cursing, sobbing.

“Daphne, is it the feel of nails in you that hurts?”

“No love, pain takes over your mind. Your whole body hurts from the strain of hanging there, the nail effect just means you twist about trying to get a bit of comfort, it’s called the dance of the cross”

The dance of the cross. Such a lovely phrase.

“Daphne, what do we do for the toilet in this cage?”

“Just crawl as far away from me as you can and do it”

“But there’s no privacy”

“What privacy do you get when on the cross for 48hours?”

“Daphne, can you sleep on the cross?”

“Shut the fuck up, Judith, how the hell do I know”

The town hall clock striking the hours lets us know the time. I think I must have slept a bit since I couldn’t remember three. At 4 o’clock I looked up and she was moving. Up, down, up, left, down, right. I guess the answer to my last question is ‘no’. In 24 hours’ time I’ll know. Oh, that’s brought it into the front of my mind. What’s going to happen? No more sleep for me this night. Curl up and think of the cold, it’s better than thinking of the cross.

Breakfast bowls, laughter at the jam in my hair, running down my face.

The cross is coming down, not like before, sinking into the ground, this time it was pivoting backward, until the girl was lying on it on the ground. A stretcher is brought out, she’s lifted onto it, wheeled away. My god, she can’t walk after 24, I’m doing 48!

Daphne’s unchained from the wall, walked toward the cross with two strong men guiding her. Her cuffs and chains are unlocked, then she’s sat down on the upright, they lay her down, arms out. What are they holding in their hands? I see hammers rise and fall, sounds of metal on metal, over and over. I thought she said no nails. She screams so loud all the pigeons fly up.

When I open my eyes the cross is upright. I must have fainted. Why did I faint? THE NAILS!! They do use nails!

I’m going to die.

(tbc)
 
6.

When the noises of the city died down we could hear her up high up on her cross. Moaning, whimpering, cursing, sobbing.

“Daphne, is it the feel of nails in you that hurts?”

“No love, pain takes over your mind. Your whole body hurts from the strain of hanging there, the nail effect just means you twist about trying to get a bit of comfort, it’s called the dance of the cross”

The dance of the cross. Such a lovely phrase.

“Daphne, what do we do for the toilet in this cage?”

“Just crawl as far away from me as you can and do it”

“But there’s no privacy”

“What privacy do you get when on the cross for 48hours?”

“Daphne, can you sleep on the cross?”

“Shut the fuck up, Judith, how the hell do I know”

The town hall clock striking the hours lets us know the time. I think I must have slept a bit since I couldn’t remember three. At 4 o’clock I looked up and she was moving. Up, down, up, left, down, right. I guess the answer to my last question is ‘no’. In 24 hours’ time I’ll know. Oh, that’s brought it into the front of my mind. What’s going to happen? No more sleep for me this night. Curl up and think of the cold, it’s better than thinking of the cross.

Breakfast bowls, laughter at the jam in my hair, running down my face.

The cross is coming down, not like before, sinking into the ground, this time it was pivoting backward, until the girl was lying on it on the ground. A stretcher is brought out, she’s lifted onto it, wheeled away. My god, she can’t walk after 24, I’m doing 48!

Daphne’s unchained from the wall, walked toward the cross with two strong men guiding her. Her cuffs and chains are unlocked, then she’s sat down on the upright, they lay her down, arms out. What are they holding in their hands? I see hammers rise and fall, sounds of metal on metal, over and over. I thought she said no nails. She screams so loud all the pigeons fly up.

When I open my eyes the cross is upright. I must have fainted. Why did I faint? THE NAILS!! They do use nails!

I’m going to die.

(tbc)

They used nails! :eek:

Omigod! :eek:

2021... that's only five years away :eek:

And the public are allowed to come and see! :D
 
When it comes to horrific executions, I think the worst scenario is one like this, where the condemned is forced to watch others endure the same tortures that they will have to go through, and knowing that when it's done, they will be the one to take her place. This is psychological torture in itself. I've explored the victim's anticipation several times in the past in my own stories.

When Judith was first put in the cage, the girl suffering on the cross was nameless, her screams the screams of a stranger. Now with Daphne, it's different, because Judith is at least acquainted with her and has talked with her for hours, comrades facing the same fate. With Daphne, it's much more personal when they take her out and crucify her.

Also, I think in Judith's mind, either consciously or unconsciously, Daphne was a buffer between her and the cross. As long as Daphne was in the cage next to her, Judith knew that before they could take her, they first had to crucify Daphne. Now that they have done that, only time and Daphne's ability to last twelve hours on the cross are between Judith and the nails.

Also, even though she didn't mention it, Judith was probably thankful and relieved that it was Daphne they took and not her. After all, at that point they were going to put someone on that cross, and it was always possible that there could have been a last-minute change, and so an edge of doubt and anxiety in Judith's mind.

I like the way you employed Daphne as a tool to explain the details of this near-future crucifixion process both to Judith and to us. At the same time, we get to see the drama build as things progress toward Judith's turn on the cross.

Looking forward to the next chapter!
 
When it comes to horrific executions, I think the worst scenario is one like this, where the condemned is forced to watch others endure the same tortures that they will have to go through, and knowing that when it's done, they will be the one to take her place. This is psychological torture in itself. I've explored the victim's anticipation several times in the past in my own stories.

When Judith was first put in the cage, the girl suffering on the cross was nameless, her screams the screams of a stranger. Now with Daphne, it's different, because Judith is at least acquainted with her and has talked with her for hours, comrades facing the same fate. With Daphne, it's much more personal when they take her out and crucify her.

Also, I think in Judith's mind, either consciously or unconsciously, Daphne was a buffer between her and the cross. As long as Daphne was in the cage next to her, Judith knew that before they could take her, they first had to crucify Daphne. Now that they have done that, only time and Daphne's ability to last twelve hours on the cross are between Judith and the nails.

Also, even though she didn't mention it, Judith was probably thankful and relieved that it was Daphne they took and not her. After all, at that point they were going to put someone on that cross, and it was always possible that there could have been a last-minute change, and so an edge of doubt and anxiety in Judith's mind.

I like the way you employed Daphne as a tool to explain the details of this near-future crucifixion process both to Judith and to us. At the same time, we get to see the drama build as things progress toward Judith's turn on the cross.

Looking forward to the next chapter!

Thank you Jedakk, that pretty much sums up what I was trying to say. The slowly rising tension, the fact that Judith is a naive young woman from the country so the explanation is to the reader as well as her.
Daphne has been there, definitely a petty criminal, deserves her fate. Judith was just foolish/careless.
And Daphne's description of a 'no nails' suspension, designed to mitigate Judith's fears, proven to be a lie.
 
7.

Now my brain was really shattered. Everything Daphne told me was a lie. How could she do that to me, some pathetic attempt to spare me anxiety? I haven’t known her very long, and she wasn’t the sort of girl I’d normally mix with, but I trusted her on that one. She’s the only one who said anything, and I’m so scared now.

They nail you to the cross, and I doubt if I can survive 48 hours like that, and even if I’m alive, my hands and feet will surely be useless. Jesus was buried the same day, wasn’t he? I shit myself before I have time to move. I’m a disgusting mess, I stink, and the main event hasn’t even started for me yet.

“Judith”

Who’s calling my name? God almighty, it’s Peter. He can’t see me like this. But I can’t stop him, I’m open to public scrutiny and ridicule. I move my knees together, feeling the squelching between my thighs.

“I had to see if you’re all right, it’s all over the village that you go to the cross tonight, they’ve hired a bus to come and see you”

Humiliation and pain. Yes I’m going to get the full treatment of both. “What’s the car like, Peter?”

“Total wreck. Chappie claims there was £20,000 worth of fish in that pond, that’s why they threw the book at you. Do you think you’ll survive the cross?”

How the hell do I know? I thought I knew what would happen, now I don’t any more. If despair could kill you, I’d be dead now.

“I’m off to do a bit of shopping now, see you on the cross”

You bastard, now I could do with someone to talk to. Daphne was a godsend, even if she did lie to me.

I watch Daphne. She’s been up about three hours now. Her moans are louder than when she started. I can understand the pain of nails through your flesh, but I wonder what she means by the whole body hurts. How can you hurt when basically you’re just standing there? With bent legs admittedly, and arms outstretched, but how hard can that be?

I’m bored waiting. More kids mocking me through the bars, a few more bits of food thrown in, lots of flies buzzing round the jam and shit. Will they let me clean up? Daphne didn’t, but she wasn’t in the state I am.

Daphne’s finished, coming down. She stands up, a little wave in my direction, that’s nice. She looks OK. She staggers a bit, an older man and woman take her arms, put a coat over her, mum and dad?

They open my cage door, unlock me from the wall, one of them heaves from the smell of my shit. They hustle me out of the cage to the cross.

The device of punishment that I can now call MY cross. The device of punishment that I don’t think I will leave alive.

(tbc)
 
2021... that's only five years away

That was the date of the Act. This might be a year or so later. 'Alternative punishments' like community service, treatment centres, re-eduction centres are being used. I think the style of The Application is probably a more likely route than mine, but with advances in the knowledge of physiology who's to say some 'humane' but painful punishments won't be developed.
 
He's going shopping!? :confused: Her Peter is just nipping off down to the shops.

I'm terrified for the poor girl and I've only known her since the start of the story, but he's going shopping!
:eek::eek: :mad::spank::spank:

Can you get him crucified as well, Old Slave? :devil:
 
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That was the date of the Act. This might be a year or so later. 'Alternative punishments' like community service, treatment centres, re-eduction centres are being used. I think the style of The Application is probably a more likely route than mine, but with advances in the knowledge of physiology who's to say some 'humane' but painful punishments won't be developed.
Actually, it is a very interesting premise, 'humane' (no nails) but nevertheless torturing and humiliating crucifixion. As it is the case with 'The Application', I also like to set stories in a world a few decades ahead of now, and fantasising how corporal punishment would return, and under which circumstances it would be carried out. I even think I have something in draft about that. But first, I have to settle 'The Application'.

Great story Old Slave, carry on!
 
He's going shopping!? :confused: Her Peter is just nipping off down to the shops.

I'm terrified for the poor girl and I've only known her since the start of the story, but he's going shopping!
:eek::eek: :mad::spank::spank:

Can you get him crucified as well, Old Slave? :devil:

My thoughts exactly, Jollyrei! What do you go out and buy when your other half is awaiting crucifixion? :confused:

A rather fetching new jacket? "I say dear, what do you think of this? Rather snazzy, what?"
 
Wow, a lot of time passed during that chapter! Daphne's twelve hours on the cross got done rather quickly. I wonder how she was able to stand up and wave to Judith, then walk away after being nailed? Or was she really nailed? This last part, where Daphne's suddenly finished, reads a bit like a dream scene.

Boy the relationship between Peter and Judith is pretty shallow! I would have thought he'd show some concern and empathy, but he basically doesn't seem to care very much. If she should die on the cross, that would be inconvenient or of passing interest. And now he's going shopping, just dropped by to say hi, and oh yes, everyone you know is coming to see you crucified.

On the other hand, Judith certainly held up well when he showed up. She was ashamed for him to see her in the state she's in, but she didn't break down and show a lot of emotion in the face of this horrific punishment that she might not survive. Instead, she's worried about the damage to the car. I'd have thought she'd be more of a mess psychologically after all of the hours she's been forced to watch the two other girls suffering agony on the cross. Has she come to the place where she is completely resigned to the idea that she is going to die?

It will be interesting to see what happens next!
 
A rather fetching new jacket? "I say dear, what do you think of this? Rather snazzy, what?"

Yes, I can just see him standing at the foot of her cross, showing off, and she pisses down on him.

Wow, a lot of time passed during that chapter!

I think the author was keen to get to the nailing, and Judith wasn't really thinking anything.

Has she come to the place where she is completely resigned to the idea that she is going to die?

That's how I imagined it.
 
8.

Everything turned into a bit of a blur. They sat me down, still filthy, and I thought “I’ve messed up their cross”. They took all those horrible metal things off my neck and wrists, and I remember wanting to stretch my arms after being restrained for so long, but they were pulled into these fixtures. Then the top of the clamp was hinged down, I could see a spike sticking up from the top. One of the men knelt beside my left wrist and hit the spike with a large hammer. Clang, clang, clang. THE PAIN!!. I know my body jerked violently, which increased the pain. Then they did the other wrist. Then my knees were bent, my feet put into clamps and pain in both feet after the hammer blows.

The Tittyloss was taken from my chest, fastened above my head. I still couldn’t read it. One of the guards gently brushed the sticky hair from my jammy face and tucked it behind my ears, and I had a flashback to when Peter used to do that for me. Will I even see Peter again? With a jerky start the cross raised really high, and I got my first clue about strain on my arms. I hadn’t realised you don’t just stand there.

Since I was up high, I thought I would have no crowd bother, but as soon as it was vertical the cross sunk into the ground. My face was level with mum and dad’s. “What were you playing at, you silly girl? You’ve disgraced your dad and me, on display like this. At least you could close your legs, have a bit of decency. And you stink to high heaven.”

I hadn’t realised that my legs were wide apart. The pain of the nails, the strain on my arms, were filling my brain. I moved my knees together. They only moved an inch. The way my feet were fasted into the fittings on the upright meant I just couldn’t close them. I realised now what humiliation meant. Dad didn’t say a word. His eyes didn’t leave my pussy.

Mum walked away “And don’t you think you can just come home after this as if nothing has happened, we’re thoroughly ashamed of you. You’re on your own now.” At least she thinks I might still be alive. Dad turns to walk away with her, one finger sliding up my slit and giving my clit a little squeeze. The perv. Was that his idea of a loving gesture?

With mum and dad out the way, my so-called friends from the village started mauling me about, pulling and twisting my nipples, fingering me, seeing how many fingers would go in. Darren, who’d fancied me before Peter, but I wasn’t interested, managed to get a grip on my short trimmed pubic hair and pulled some out, grinning. He always was a stupid twat.

I wondered when the first rape would come. Maybe after a pint or two Darren would come back, but I didn’t know how many men would dare show their dicks in public. My legs were now in pain. Someone read out the Tittyloss above my head “46hours 23minutes remaining”. Abigale gave me an almighty slap across the face, then punched my left tit. “That’s for stealing Peter from me” . I didn’t think her and Peter were ever an item, just wishful thinking on her part. She lined up her fist to punch my right tit, but a guard stopped her. “That much force could damage her, we’ll give her a rest now”, and the cross rose up high.

This time a small ‘seat’ emerged from the upright, jabbing into my bum until I worked out if I lifted myself up a bit I could sit on it. I couldn’t see it, but it felt thin and round. It took some of the weight off my arms which was a relief.

I was alone and my ‘friends’ went to the pubs.

I got cramp in my right calf. I just want to wriggle the leg round a bit, rub the muscle, fucking hell with feet and arms nailed like this I can’t do the simplest things to help myself, I shout to the guard below “Cramp, rub my leg please” he looks up, smiles, gives me two fingers and looks at my pussy. I try to give him two fingers back but my hands don’t seem to work anymore, my God, have the nails destroyed them already. As the cramp pain eased a little I started to understand how a whole body can hurt.

Lots of laughter and insults when the pubs threw out, and down I came, seat disappearing. More fingers, probing, twisting. There’s the girl with the cucumber. My hair had flopped back over my face when I was squirming with cramp so she pulls it aside and gives me a lovely kiss. I was still thinking “that was surprisingly nice” when she pushes the cucumber into me. Fucks it a few times, then gives one of the blokes she’s with an even longer kiss, and they all walk away, laughing. A new source of pain. Sod the humiliation now.

A lone man walks to the guard, and has a few words with him. I don’t recognise him, but he pulls the cucumber out and licks it, then takes his dick out, rubs it in my slit till it’s hard, gets it in, and does a few thrusts. The angle feels awkward to me, no pleasure at all. I feel him come. Not exactly the rape of my fantasies. He walks way, the cross goes up, I drip. I take a piss. Why didn’t I think of pissing on that bloke?

IT IS SO BORING. I won’t say I got used to the pain, it was changing, just gets a lot worse, then slightly better, then a lot worse again over time. There’s nothing to do but move and twist. The seat hurts now. I don’t even think about the moving, my body just wants to. Nothing is worth thinking about. I mean, my passion is painting wild flowers. What the hell’s the point of thinking about that in this situation. And even if I survive, will I hold a paintbrush again?

And no, you can’t sleep on the cross.

(tbc)
 
8.

I mean, my passion is painting wild flowers. What the hell’s the point of thinking about that in this situation. And even if I survive, will I hold a paintbrush again?

(tbc)

Now that is a nice touch, OS! :)
 
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