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Together
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
jacksjg89
PROCRASTINATOR
Great manip, although I think the princess needs to be on the opposite side
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Lucretius is really a rancornous man!
Nice manip! This story really stirs the artistic talents.
Anent double crossing and shared cruxing, I just noticed on News from Margot today,
she recalls something she said back in December,
"Another film that might be released next year is Double Cross,
a film where Amy and Vero share a cross after being forced to torture each other.”
She says today that 'those films' will be released, but doesn't indicate when Double Cross will appear.
http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/news-from-margot.4343/page-13#post-333077
she recalls something she said back in December,
"Another film that might be released next year is Double Cross,
a film where Amy and Vero share a cross after being forced to torture each other.”
She says today that 'those films' will be released, but doesn't indicate when Double Cross will appear.
http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/news-from-margot.4343/page-13#post-333077
13.
The heat of the day has passed. It's now late afternoon and some time has passed since Lucretius exacted his cruel revenge on my womanly temple. That little act of vengeance took the form of a vicious, perfectly aimed underhanded stroke of his whip that broke directly over my mound, ripping and ravaging its way through the cleft between my labia. The pain was immediate and indescribably horrific, and even now … long after … I still hurt so much down there. At least, the gushing rush of blood seems to have finally stopped.
Lucretius and Markus have since worked their respective ways down the long line of crosses ... ordered by the Optio to turn their whips on the defenseless bodies of the other crucified women. The crowds have followed along to witness the fun, leaving me and my cross-mate to hang and suffer alone and in silence.
Too weak to struggle, she and I rest back-to-back against the heavy timbers that separate us. We re-establish our tenuous finger link ... a link as tenuous as our remaining grip on life.
How much longer we might last is an open question. Our breathing is shallow, ragged, rasping. We scarcely move anymore. Our extremities are numb. Every now and then a muscle cramp causes us to move enough to alter our otherwise listless pose, but for the most part we just hang. Only her occasional tweaking of my finger serves to remind me that she is still there.
I drift in and out of consciousness, losing interest even in slaking my raging thirst ... barely moving my lips even when a wet sponge is pressed to them.
For some unknown reason I rouse myself enough at one point to cast my teary eyes on the dark-haired girl crucified on the cross nearest mine. I see her in profile. The lowering sun brightly, almost radiantly, illuminating a sweat-sheened body, crisscrossed … like my own … with the blood-flecked marks left by Lucretius’ sadistic handiwork.
Her head rests against one of her outstretched arms, turned towards me. I realize that her stare is not vacant. She is, in fact, looking right at me. Her mouth moves ... once, twice, three times ... but I hear nothing. Then her eyes close and her head drops forward, a cloud of dark hair covering her face.
I will never know what she said. Were those her dying words? What message was she attempting to share? Does it matter anyhow?
“We are going to die soon … together,” I croak in a barely audible voice as I tweak the finger of my cross-mate.
“I know,” she replies.
TO BE CONTINUED
The heat of the day has passed. It's now late afternoon and some time has passed since Lucretius exacted his cruel revenge on my womanly temple. That little act of vengeance took the form of a vicious, perfectly aimed underhanded stroke of his whip that broke directly over my mound, ripping and ravaging its way through the cleft between my labia. The pain was immediate and indescribably horrific, and even now … long after … I still hurt so much down there. At least, the gushing rush of blood seems to have finally stopped.
Lucretius and Markus have since worked their respective ways down the long line of crosses ... ordered by the Optio to turn their whips on the defenseless bodies of the other crucified women. The crowds have followed along to witness the fun, leaving me and my cross-mate to hang and suffer alone and in silence.
Too weak to struggle, she and I rest back-to-back against the heavy timbers that separate us. We re-establish our tenuous finger link ... a link as tenuous as our remaining grip on life.
How much longer we might last is an open question. Our breathing is shallow, ragged, rasping. We scarcely move anymore. Our extremities are numb. Every now and then a muscle cramp causes us to move enough to alter our otherwise listless pose, but for the most part we just hang. Only her occasional tweaking of my finger serves to remind me that she is still there.
I drift in and out of consciousness, losing interest even in slaking my raging thirst ... barely moving my lips even when a wet sponge is pressed to them.
For some unknown reason I rouse myself enough at one point to cast my teary eyes on the dark-haired girl crucified on the cross nearest mine. I see her in profile. The lowering sun brightly, almost radiantly, illuminating a sweat-sheened body, crisscrossed … like my own … with the blood-flecked marks left by Lucretius’ sadistic handiwork.
Her head rests against one of her outstretched arms, turned towards me. I realize that her stare is not vacant. She is, in fact, looking right at me. Her mouth moves ... once, twice, three times ... but I hear nothing. Then her eyes close and her head drops forward, a cloud of dark hair covering her face.
I will never know what she said. Were those her dying words? What message was she attempting to share? Does it matter anyhow?
“We are going to die soon … together,” I croak in a barely audible voice as I tweak the finger of my cross-mate.
“I know,” she replies.
TO BE CONTINUED
WitchQueen
Assistant executioner
These three paragraphs are absolutely lovely writing. It's so moving, I keep wanting to read them over and over again. Even though the main focus on this story is about Barb and her cross mate's crucifixion and suffering. I love the little details that are sprinkled here and there of the many other crucified victims/prisoners. It gives a broader idea that crucifixions weren't just rare, a small scaled thing that the Romans would do, but at times a massive torture/execution that were done often. And it shows that despite the horrific suffering our two heroines are sharing, it's not their's alone and that they're capable of still sympathizing with the other crucified.
It's very touching, in a grim yet beautiful way. I'm sure this raven haired woman (who ever she was) appreciated that you noticed her long enough to witness her final moments of life, Barb. Despite that you were unable to hear what she actually said. Perhaps her words may be revealed to you in final moment of clarity or it may just be best left a mystery for you and us to ponder, before you and your cross mate meet the same fate.
I cannot tell what these cunts wants.
I'm not good at reading these women...
There is no salvation for these women... I wonder if I should care...
Tree
I'm not good at reading these women...
There is no salvation for these women... I wonder if I should care...
Tree
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
She is still alive, and you too. But for how long? The end is near now. It would be nice if you both die together at the same time, in unison like everything you do.
Two souls ascending together to heavens.
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I'm breathless, Barb. This must be one of the most beautiful pieces of crux writing ever!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Good writing! The power of the crucified girls is waning, but not yet their spirits.
14.
The sun is down. Darkness descends. The end is nigh.
Only a slight breeze, every now and then, stirs the evening calm. The crowds have dispersed ... the road lies empty, save for scattered debris left behind. Only a few legionaries remain, under orders to watch over the dead and dying.
Markus and Lucretius are among them ... they lounge on the ground beneath our cross, resting their backs against the heavy wood of the stipe and loudly bragging about their exploits that day ... about their prowess with a whip, and about how they so skillfully managed to get two girls crucified together on the same cross. In their retelling, little if any credit is given to the Optio.
That death is not far off, my cross-mate and I are aware and, truth be told, we wish it would come soon. Most of the two hundred souls crucified this day by the Roman legionaries are dead, although a few still live. The occasional moan or groan, or the creak of wood tells me this is so. But as two of the last to be raised, she and I will likely be among the very last to die.
We still link fingers ... although what was once a tender touch has become stiff and rigid ... locked is a better way to describe it ... as unbreakable link that bonds our souls together ... we and each other ... we together along with the rough cross that bears our poor tortured bodies.
We say little to one another. There are no words. Of what would we speak? But yet, one more thing must be said, must be exchanged before it's too late.
"Barbara," I say to her, and wait expectantly for the reply
"Aikaterine", she replies in the language of her former Master.
Enough! I am ready. It will all end in a dream. I close my eyes. The pain is gone. Everything relaxes. I am slipping. I hold nothing in. Fluidity. Loss. Gone.
"Oh Shit!" exclaims Lucretius, jumping to his feet.
Death with a smile.
(manip by The Hanging Tree, colorization by Siss)
FINIS
The sun is down. Darkness descends. The end is nigh.
Only a slight breeze, every now and then, stirs the evening calm. The crowds have dispersed ... the road lies empty, save for scattered debris left behind. Only a few legionaries remain, under orders to watch over the dead and dying.
Markus and Lucretius are among them ... they lounge on the ground beneath our cross, resting their backs against the heavy wood of the stipe and loudly bragging about their exploits that day ... about their prowess with a whip, and about how they so skillfully managed to get two girls crucified together on the same cross. In their retelling, little if any credit is given to the Optio.
That death is not far off, my cross-mate and I are aware and, truth be told, we wish it would come soon. Most of the two hundred souls crucified this day by the Roman legionaries are dead, although a few still live. The occasional moan or groan, or the creak of wood tells me this is so. But as two of the last to be raised, she and I will likely be among the very last to die.
We still link fingers ... although what was once a tender touch has become stiff and rigid ... locked is a better way to describe it ... as unbreakable link that bonds our souls together ... we and each other ... we together along with the rough cross that bears our poor tortured bodies.
We say little to one another. There are no words. Of what would we speak? But yet, one more thing must be said, must be exchanged before it's too late.
"Barbara," I say to her, and wait expectantly for the reply
"Aikaterine", she replies in the language of her former Master.
Enough! I am ready. It will all end in a dream. I close my eyes. The pain is gone. Everything relaxes. I am slipping. I hold nothing in. Fluidity. Loss. Gone.
"Oh Shit!" exclaims Lucretius, jumping to his feet.
Death with a smile.
(manip by The Hanging Tree, colorization by Siss)
FINIS
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The last laugh...
Nice twist!
Barb, this has been an exceptional story. Written with imagination, wit, and a love of the subject, to say I enjoyed it would be a serious understatement.
I wish I could Interflora some flowers!
A beautiful story that almost never made it to Crux Forums as Messaline sued to block the executions on grounds that two were crucified on one cross. The case is still pending before the REU (Roman European Union) but it is a mere formality...
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Messaline is not responsible of the roman'soldiers mistakes ...
It's too much easy to crucified her for that ...
So, our barb is dead ? I was thinking to give her a role in my next Paskell's Saga !
But ....
for the story ... and we're on CF : all is possible, even a resurrection !
And I would bet, the wall in background standing in my city!
Cella
Spectator
Wonderful, lovely story Barb! A very poignant ending for the women, and a very deserved one for that bastard Lucretius. I only hope he was looking up at the critical moment.