Marcella's Crucifixion, Part 3:
View attachment 395599 Decurion Marcus Getha stands near Marcella’s cross, staring up at her as she writhes and groans in agony.
By Jupiter’s balls the girl is a beauty! He is stirred by her nakedness. Her lovely face. The perfect, heaving breasts with their pert nipples and large areolas. The slender waist that flares out into enticing hips and then as long, lean thighs. There is an exquisite gap between her thighs that draws the eye toward her ravaged, exposed pussy. She doesn’t like him looking at her. Despite the relentless agonies coursing through her body she is clearly aware of her nakedness and obviously embarrassed and humiliated to be exposed in such a crude, disgraceful manner. Marcus knows he should not think of her as anything but a nameless condemned criminal paying the full price for her crime. But she makes him ashamed, almost, to be staring up at her. Why? She is nothing to him. Just a crucified bitch. Yet, he feels he knows her in some way. How is that possible? Who is she? He wishes he knew -- but perhaps it's better that he doesn't. No, just keep her a nameless crucified bitch.
Marcus is suddenly aware that his cock has betrayed that he is not utterly dispassionate about the girl. His heavy military tunic hides what would be quite obvious. He turns away, hoping to break the progress of his arousal. You must maintain your composure, he reminds himself.
When a woman is crucified it makes his job all the more difficult. Passions run higher and control of the spectators becomes harder. Generally, women sentenced to crucifixion have, at best, an average appearance. Rarely are they especially attractive. They tend to be plump or stringy whores, bandits, or escaped slaves whose crimes merit such a severe punishment. On occasion there’s a reasonably attractive, vengeful former mistress or a murderess nailed up. But this young woman does not fit any of these categories. She is so clearly not the escaped slave who assaulted her domina. He is certain of that. Yet, here she is, dying a horrible, slow, agonizing death. He is genuinely saddened to see her suffer. It is an affront to his sensibilities that an innocent young woman should suffer so. He would put her out of her misery if he could. All it would require is placing the tip of his sword under her left breast and with a quick upward thrust through her ribs her heart would be pierced. She would die instantly, mercifully.
But why this for her instead? Why the relentless agony of crucifixion? He knows the answer: because public executions of this grisly type are the Roman way in the provinces. They project Roman might and authority. They serve to instill the fear in the conquered peoples that any of them could wind up on a cross if they oppose the power of the Roman state or break its inflexible laws. And the fact that crucifixion also serves as a form of public entertainment, especially when it involves a beautiful woman. And this woman is young and healthy. Despite her brutal treatment she can be expected to live at least a day on her cross. The bastards used a foot rest. Yes, she will certainly take a long time to die.
He hears her groan, quite loudly, and turns to see her again shifting her position on the cross. She’d been hanging from her nailed wrists, arms fully extended, and was now beginning to push her body up and out on the cross. It’s all part of her “dance” on the cross – the “dance” of anyone crucified as she is. When her cross was elevated and she felt the full agony of hanging from her nails her “dancing” was frantic and uncoordinated as her body responded to the initial, brutal agony of crucifixion out of sheer panic and pain. How horrible to be freshly crucified, nailed to a cross, with no hope of escape from the terrible agony! But now, after nearly an hour of hanging, it’s far less frequent. She is exhausted and only moves when absolutely necessary. Hanging from nailed wrists, with arms fully extended and with little leg support, slowly paralyzes the chest muscles making it very difficult to breathe. In this position most breathing is from the diaphragm only, as seen by the shallow, quick breaths taken. Then comes the inexorable urge to push up with her legs.
View attachment 395601 Marcus watches as the girl fully extends her long, shapely legs. Her back is now arched, her hips and pussy are thrust forward, and her full breasts are pulled high across her elevated, heaving chest. She breathes deeply, sucking in lungsful of precious air. Quite an erotic image for those watching. Marcus hears cheers go up and again feels his arousal at the sight building. He feels ashamed receiving sexual pleasure from the sufferings of this girl. Why? What about this should excite him so?
She stays in the arched position for a few minutes until her strained leg muscles and the horrific burning agony from pressing on the foot nail becomes too much to bear. With another grunt she drops her body on the cross and again hangs from her arms as her thigh muscles tremble in painful spasms. Her head is down. Her breasts hang from her chest, full and heavy, gently trembling as the soft flesh betrays the unbearable tension in her body. Marcus knows that soon enough she will repeat the dance, sometimes with twisting her hips either right or left. The dance will go on, her erotic, tantalizing movements decreasing in frequency as she hangs through the long day and into the night. Just as Marcus begins to turn away she raises her head and stares him directly in the eyes.
View attachment 395600
“Please, please sir, kill me,” she begs in a raspy almost whisper of a voice. “You know I’m innocent, I know you do! I don’t deserve this. I did nothing wrong. The pain is too great, I cannot –“ Her voice is cut off as a wave of fresh agony courses through her. She grimaces, her lips in a snarl then squeezed tightly together as she battles the fierce, burning pain. Then, exhaling, she groans and begins to breathe in short, rapid breaths as she hangs from the crossbeam. Marcus knows she’ll soon repeat her agonizing upward movements on the cross.
No, he thinks to himself, I cannot kill you my dear girl. He knows if he did he would face severe punishment, the least of which would be the loss of his hard-earned rank. The rank he achieved after nearly 18 years as a soldier in the legions, slowly earning the respect of his superiors as the army slashed and thrust its way into new territories. No, there’s nothing he can do. The magistrate condemned her to crucifixion and his word is the law. Still, he feels incredible pity for her in her sufferings and prays she dies soon. And shame at not having the courage to act when such an injustice has been done.
He turns away from the crucified girl again. There is a rider approaching, galloping fast down the dusty road. He stops in front of the Decurion. “The magistrate requests your return immediately, Decurion.” He goes on to explain that there are two more women awaiting crucifixion. Shit! Two more? What the fuck! He wasn’t expecting this. Issuing an order to the senior soldier present to maintain order he spurs his horse and returns as directed.
Perfect...