The reality of crucifixion has rudely asserted itself upon Debbie. She is no longer the polished and regal queen of Lesbia. Debbie is just one of the dozen or so people nailed to their cross on the Hill of Death. The concerns over her modesty have faded to the pain of having her body stretched between nailed wrists or trying to rise on her broken feet. Instead of a stately queen Debbie is just a woman trying futilely to ease her pain and escape her cross. She is more a wild injured animal desperately wanting to be freed from her agony.
Though she may not appreciate the thought she puts on quite a show the first hours of her crucifixion.
I have seen enough crucifixions to know it is a brutal way to execute someone. I would watch usually from my terrace. Science had developed a looking glass that even from a distance I could see the tormented faces of those my court or I have damned to die crucified. Rarely would I go to the Hill of Death knowing what a vile place it is to die. The stench was awful and I made appearances only to make a point of the severity of the punishment that the prisoner is suffering. The last time I was here was to Barbara Moore as she died on her cross. I remember taking care of my needs after seeing Barbara suffer so brutally on my decree.
Now I hang crucified to the same cross Barbara hanged from. What I had imagined this would feel like is nothing like it really feels like now that I am nailed to cross. I am being torn apart by the cross as the three spikes hold me above the crowd below. The spikes in my wrists pry against my bones with any move I make while the spike through my feet grinds against the shattered bones in my feet. I feel my heart pounding in my chest as my ribs press against it.
Below me what were faithful loyal subjects berate me as the crucified whore I have become. I reply with a hoarse voice curses I do not even know the meaning of. I believe the evil of the cross has entered me through the spikes that bind me to it!
I have been crucified but half a day and the cross tortures me in ways I never imagined. My body is stretched as I never thought it could be yet I fear I am no near death. This torment will last a long time.
Below the hill I see my palace. On the terrace is the man who nailed me to this cross and a woman that could be Messaline wearing one of my fuchsia night gowns. Could she not even wait until I am dead?
-Debbie
Tree is in his normal state coherence (he is completely drunk) as he talks to Messaline.
“Well, Queen Deborah is crucified. I’m told she had fantasies of being hanged naked before her people. I hope she likes her ride” Tree says.
Messaline is damn near livid saying “I can’t believe you crucified her on a second hand cross! She is- or was- a queen!”
“Quit bitching, Messa” Tree replies. “It is still premium French crucifixion wood and it is the same cross she executed Barbara Moore on. The bitch is getting what she deserves.”
Messa thinks a few minutes and says “You have done well, Tree. Tie me to the cross in the bedroom and use me how you like.”
There are no known pictures of this encounter…
I hang as a condemned bitch. The pain does not subside yet death is nowhere near ending my suffering. My body smells like a well-used whore and sweat covers my flesh.
I am displayed like a common criminal crucified to suffer the ravages of the cross. I hate the pain. I hate the boredom. I hate the abuse I receive from the thinning but still enthusiastic mob enjoying my suffering. I am dying in agonizing ecstasy. I am meat nailed to wood for my death and their entertainment. I have another orgasm.
The sun has set and sky is darkening. With any luck I will die soon but I think that is just being wishful. My cross rattles as a ladder is slammed against the back of it. I feel a large man climb up behind me. It turns out to be Archer. He toys with my hair and says “It’s a shame I did not get to take your virginity. At least I can watch you suffer through the night.”
The night is nothing I have considered. The thought of hanging on the cross in the dark chills me even in this warm air. I beg him “Kill me now!”
He laughs and says “Why would I do that after doing all the work to crucify you? Enjoy the ride, cunt!”
The darkness of night falls. I can see the lights from my city below. Not far away is a bonfire where a few guards drink spirits and casually snack. Occasionally I hear them laugh about something but I can’t hear what they say. The guards are here to insure that none of us are rescued. If we die in tonight that is our problem or perhaps relief. I am alone nailed to my cross. The only thing I feel is unending pain. I don’t think death will take me tonight.
-Debbie