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Suffer with it...
Cella
Spectator
Aaaaargggghhh!!!! I can't believe the mistakes I make!!! It bugs the shit out of me!!!! This one will make readers wonder what is going on in the story. The caption to the pic says that Thessela is shouting curses at the Romans, (She may well have been at some point), but I meant to say she was shouting curses at the slave whom she holds responsible for getting her and Marcella crucified.
”Why are you listening to that fucking cunt?” Marcella’s head snaps to the right to see Thessela eyes, burning with anger and pain. ‘I can see you, cunt,” she hisses, straining to see the slave beyond the profile of Marcella’s body. “Stop trying to make excuses to my sister. Your action put us here -- to die for your crime!”
View attachment 406721 Thessela shouts her curses at the Romans.
Thessela shouts her curses at the slave.
The slave shouts back defiantly. “Your sister is innocent, yes, but you killed a soldier! You are here for that. That’s not my fault!”
AlexArts
Soul of Cinder
This is a great story...
And i have a little surprise... When this story ends
Cella
Spectator
I have planned for three more episodes to end the story. A "surprise?" I'm sure I am as anxious as everyone else who loves your work to know what this is!
(Guess I'll just have to write faster!)
AlexArts
Soul of Cinder
It's just a final art of your story Marcella...
...whitch will close my presence here, i think
I didn't like that surprise..
You're a good artist, Hasturan. But I respect your decision.
shastar
Tribune
I didn't like that surprise..
You're a good artist, Hasturan. But I respect your decision.
I don't like it either... I respect your decision too, even though I don't understand the motivation
AlexArts
Soul of Cinder
I was talking with my psychologist... She told me that i should stop this.I don't understand the motivation
I'm sorry to hear that, but I can understand it. We don't know your circumstances and we can't tell you what is best for you.
But we will miss you.
IgnikaMarcus
Governor
Aww......really?
I'll miss you as well.
Hopefully you pay us a visit every once and a while.
I'll miss you as well.
Hopefully you pay us a visit every once and a while.
Well, Hasturan, you've sometimes said things here that hinted you were going through some trouble,
and of course you should follow advice from a specialist who's wanting to help you -
but I hope it will help you to know that you've lots of friends here, we'll miss you,
and hope you won't forget us. Thanks for all you've given us here, and best wishes
and of course you should follow advice from a specialist who's wanting to help you -
but I hope it will help you to know that you've lots of friends here, we'll miss you,
and hope you won't forget us. Thanks for all you've given us here, and best wishes
Eulalia find for all situations and members the right words. Impressive.Well, Hasturan, you've sometimes said things here that hinted you were going through some trouble,
and of course you should follow advice from a specialist who's wanting to help you -
but I hope it will help you to know that you've lots of friends here, we'll miss you,
and hope you won't forget us. Thanks for all you've given us here, and best wishes
Well, Hasturan, you've sometimes said things here that hinted you were going through some trouble,
and of course you should follow advice from a specialist who's wanting to help you -
but I hope it will help you to know that you've lots of friends here, we'll miss you,
and hope you won't forget us. Thanks for all you've given us here, and best wishes
Cella
Spectator
Marcella’s Crucifixion: Episode 8
The Night, then Morning
The long, brutally hot day slowly turns into dusk and then evening. The moon rises above the horizon to replace the sun in the sky. All three women are in severe dehydration despite being watered every hour. They have been kept alert all day with sharp, heated sticks poked into their groins, breasts and armpits whenever they fainted. Now they all show vivid bruises and burns as well as trickles of blood from the more viscous pokes. As darkness descends the crowd begins to thin out. Not much to see by the flicker of torches and the soft rays of a half moon. By the time Apollo rode his chariot below the horizon all but a few had left. Soon they too would be gone. The crucified women will be alone to suffer through the night, left to the tender mercies of whatever emerges from the darkness that envelopes them.
Decurion Marcus Getha sent eight of his detail soldiers back to the barracks after dusk. No need for so many soldiers now, he figured. A four-man detail with two men in each watch is more than sufficient. Marcus himself returns to the city after dark, leaving Priscus in charge. He tells Priscus to expect him back after sunrise. He fervently hopes the younger sister, the crucified innocent, is dead by the time he returns. The slave and the older sister can suffer another day for all he cares; after all, they were crucified for good reasons. He’s perfectly aware of what is likely to happen to the women as they hang helpless in the dark, their crosses illuminated by only the moon and torches. In some ways it might be the most horrible part of their suffering. They are crucified, after all, so by custom – and law – they have no rights or protections as condemned criminals. Literally anything short of purposefully ending their lives is permitted. He knows it will be hellish for them.
Marcella has tried to summon the energy to talk to Thessela about Anna. Several times in all into the early evening hours. But she was not able to convince her sister that Anna was not responsible for their executions. It was just fate, she tried to explain. (Well, about as capably as a crucified woman could carry out an intelligent conversation with another crucified woman next to her. Their words were said with breathy urgency through jaws and lips clenched in pain. Just talking made their agonies flare. It was exhausting work.) Marcella tried to reason with Thessela that Anna’s life and theirs just crossed by sheer happenstance. Anna never accused them of anything or falsely identified them. That was other people and for whatever reasons they had. Anna was a victim, just as they were. She begged Thessela to renounce her curse, but she never did. At some point further conversation became impossible as each sister could only struggle with her own all-consuming agony on the cross. Marcella hadn’t spoken with Anna since late afternoon. Whenever she looked over at her she was hanging very still until she had to move to breathe. Anna looked back at Marcella a few times, her eyes teary and filled with pain. Marcella knew she wanted to hear that Thessela took back her curse. The poor girl was terrified of dying with the curse upon her.
The cooler evening air is not necessarily a blessing for the three women. Though their skins feel as on fire from their fierce daytime sunburns, they begin to shiver as heat is quickly lost from their exposed bodies. The shivering is intense at times causing them considerable spasms of agony as their bodies involuntarily pull and push on their nails. They continue to moan and groan as they struggle to push up to breathe. All three are extremely weak. Their arm and leg muscles by now are knotted in almost permanent spasmodic contractions. Under normal conditions the pain would be beyond endurance. Yet for someone crucified it is simply one additional agony to be endured. They cry out for water, which is given freely and eagerly accepted. Marcella can see the shadowy figures of the guards illuminated by flickering torches. Beyond them is the purple darkness. She can see the city walls against the darkening sky and some soft lights from inside the wall. Soon they will flicker out as the city goes to sleep. Then the dark will be total. The two guards in front of their crosses are carrying on an animated conversation. Every so often they look back over their shoulders, pointing at one or two of them, laughing and making obscene gestures. Marcella groans as panic seizes her. She’s suddenly terrified about what monsters might emerge from that inky blackness. Her heart pounds in her chest – she must breathe. She struggles to push up as she utters a strangled scream. The guards turn and look at her, their eyes glinting evilly in the flickering torchlight, then turn away to continue their conversation.
By midnight Marcella has been crucified for sixteen hours, Thessela thirteen hours, and Anna eleven hours. Marcella has had a serious bladder infection since late afternoon. Along with the intense pelvic pain there is a slow, constant, painful dripping of her urine. She feels as though she desperately needs to pee but bearing down does nothing to empty her bladder. She reflexively clenches her pelvic muscles and squeezes her thighs tightly together, but there is no relief. Just the relentless, fiery pain as each drop of urine leaves her, a torture that were she not crucified would render her utterly incapacitated. But for a crucified woman it is only one additional agony that must be endured. There is one small relief with the night: the insects are far fewer.
It is sometime after midnight, when the night is the most quiet and dark, that the predators come out. Not the ones on four legs that can be scared away with fire or rocks. These were the two-legged variety. They come seeking the women as they helplessly hang on their crosses. With some coins passed to the guards they are allowed to put platforms on the ground before each woman’s cross. Then, stepping up on the platforms, they are able to carry out their depredations.
Marcella can’t clearly the face of the man in front of her, but it’s there, and very ugly. How is that possible, she thinks, that he’s standing eye to eye with me? Then she looks down and sees that he’s standing on a platform placed in front of her cross. What the hell is going on here, she wonders? That question is quickly answered.
The man starts by roughly squeezing her full breasts and tumescent nipples. This by itself causes her to gasp in agony as her skin is both raw from scourging and burned from the sun. With one hand to her breasts, his other hand is slipped into her crotch. His powerful fingers dig deeply into her vagina. She reflexively tries to squeeze her legs together, but cannot stop him. The pain is sharp and tearing. What is he doing to her, she wonders? He’s saying something to her, but she can’t make it out. She smells his foul, rotten breath. It’s overwhelming. She can’t do anything but endure the horrific assault. Then the inevitable: she feels his hands now behind her ass, pulling her pelvis toward him. She screams as her body moves against the nails. With her right foot nailed on top of her left, Marcella’s thighs are kept close together. Her attacker cannot get his body between them easily. But he manages to get a knee between her thighs and pries them apart. He lunges forward and Marcella feels his erection searching for her vagina. He’s trying to rape her as she hangs! He enters her and thrusts deeply and viscously as he rocks her hips towards him. The friction of his cock exacerbates the burning, itching pain from her pee hole. She groans and grunts piteously. Marcella closes her eyes and turns her head to the side, as if she could shut out the horror. She feels his final thrust as he ejaculates inside her. He withdraws, only to be replaced by another equally disgusting man who repeats the awful act. Marcella faints at some point but revives as the sharp sticks grind into her armpits and breasts. She loses track of how many times she is raped.
Thessela and Anna are also assaulted by the rapists as they hang on their crosses. Marcella hears Anna’s heart-rendering groans and pleas to stop. Thessela’s voice is loud and gravelly as she curses them. Marcella hears a man scream, yelling that his ear was bitten. Good for Thess, she thinks! She bit the bastard! But then Marcella hears the heavy sound of his hand slapping Thessela's face, back and forth. Thessela continues to scream and curse at him which only causes him to smack her harder. Suddenly, it’s over. The predators slip back into the dark and vanish. The women are left alone in shock, cum dripping from their ravaged pussies. Thessela is raging – cursing Anna again through swollen lips for causing all their sufferings and degradations. Marcella looks up at the heavens. The moon has set and the stars are bright. Then they all begin to swirl around.
The next thing Marcella knows, it is dawn. The agony of crucifixion seizes her as consciousness is gained. She is hanging from her arms, her legs numb and burning. She shudders and tries to push up to breathe, but her legs fail her as their muscles are tightened in agonizing tonic spasms. She tries to pull up but cannot. Her shoulders are dislocated. Hanging from her arms produces overwhelming burning agony as nerves are stretched and irritated. Ligaments and tendons too are stretched and torn beyond their limits. With an extreme effort she manages to extend her body upward just enough to gulp in some air.
Dawn, and the three women are still alive. But barely.
Marcella knows the end is near for her. Just how much longer does she have to suffer? She is unable to push or pull herself up. She is slowly suffocating. She looks over at Thessela whose breathing is deep and ragged. Her time, too, is near. Then over at Anna. Oh, poor Anna! She looks so still and grey. Is she dead? But there’s a twitch and her head bobbles. She’s still alive for now. Marcella looks up at her wrists. They are seeping blood and pus from around the nails. Her wounds are infected. And down at her feet. The same. Good. The infection will carry her off all the sooner. She drops her head and closes her eyes, waiting for death. Moments of unconsciousness are intermixed with periods of intense agony.
She wakes up with a jolt! Hours have passed; it seems midmorning. I’ve been crucified a full day, she realizes. She looks over at her sister. Thessela hangs fully extended from her arms. Her shoulders, too, appear dislocated. Her breathing is barely detectable. She looks over at Anna. The poor girl appears dead. She is ashen grey and not moving. But she notices someone moving beyond Anna’s motionless body. There’s another cross erected, and yet another further down the line. Were more women crucified? Marcella’s vision is cloudy but the figures on the crosses do not appear to have breasts, and their bodies are too muscular. Their semi-erect penises confirm they are men. When did they get here, she wonders? She hears their curses, groans and screams as they go about dancing on their crosses. She notices the spectators are few in number. Apparently crucified men do not attract that large of a crowd.
Suddenly she hears a loud moan coming from Thessela’s cross. Her sister’s breathing is deep and ragged. It’s the death rattle she’s hearing. Thessela suddenly raises her head and looks at Marcella. Now Marcella knows why she revived at this time. Thessela is dying. She has a chance to say goodbye. Thessela turns her swollen face toward Marcella's. Her eyes are wet with tears. Her lips are moving! What is she trying to say? Marcella desperately wishes she knew. Then Thessela exhales and her head drops to her chest and rolls to one side. Her body slumps. Marcella manages a strangled scream at knowing she just saw her sister die. She’s devastated, yet happy she is beyond suffering. Now only she is left. She hangs from her arms and dislocated shoulders; her legs can barely push up. Her agony has never been worse as innumerable pains slash through her body.
Marcella goes in and out of consciousness during the hours up until noon. The executioners no longer use the sticks to keep her alert. They allow her at least that. Her breathing is labored, very shallow. Barely enough air to keep her brain working. She looks down and sees the Decurion standing there. Oh, those damn sad eyes of his! What does he want now? Oh!
Marcus had returned at dawn to find the women still alive, but barely. He was distressed to see that the younger sister still lived. He cursed. She should be dead by now! There was no crowd to speak of this morning. There rarely are any spectators on the second day. Once the women stop struggling on their crosses the crowds lose interest. He arrived leading an escort that brought two naked men bent under the burden of their cross. They are renegade slaves responsible for robberies and killings in the area. Their crosses went up in two of the remaining holes next to the slave. He posted the guard detail and waited for the women to die. The older sister and the slave could last into the afternoon. The slave, however, died soon after the men were crucified. Her breathing had been very shallow and labored. Suddenly she raised her head, gulped deeply, and tried to utter some words. Marcus thought he heard her say something about forgiveness, but wasn’t sure. Then she slumped on her cross as her head fell to her chest. The remaining contents of her bowels emptied to the ground. He didn’t take note when the older sister died a few hours later. The morning had started off very hot and he was in the tent talking with Priscus. He heard a scream from the younger sister. It amazed him she had any voice left at this point. Upon investigating he saw the older sister was dead. He had hoped the younger sister had died to. Then he could have the bodies taken down and be done with this particularly vexing crucifixion.
“Please girl, hurry up and die,” he mutters as he returns to the tent.
At noon Marcus sees the younger sister is still alive! Incredible, given the amount of torture she suffered before crucifixion. It must be the foot block used on her, he figured. It gives her too much support under her body. Her sister had her feet nailed flat against the upright and the slave’s feet had been nailed to the side of the upright. Neither of them had nearly as much support under them and had died sooner because of it. The younger sister barely moves, but when she does Marcus can hear her low, tortured moans. Her agony is still apparent. Why doesn’t she die? Why won’t the girl die? Why is she being made to suffer so much for so long! She’s the innocent! She doesn’t deserve this!
The two that deserved crucifixion died hours ago. Marcus suddenly decides that he must put this poor unfortunate girl out of her misery. Damn the fucking magistrate! He can suck my cock! Marcus draws his sword and places it under the girl’s left breast.
Marcella sees that the Decurion has drawn his sword. She feels it poke the skin under her breast. She looks down at him and murmurs a barely audible thank you. Marcella raises her head skyward and looks up into the clear blue sky. Birds are flying gracefully overhead. So beautiful, she thinks, as the Decurion’s sword slices into her chest. She feels a sharp stab of pain and a warm gush of blood. The world goes dark as she falls into a deep, dark, pain-free abyss.
Marcus orders the executioners to immediately remove the women’s bodies from their crosses. They do so with their usual trained efficiency. The three bodies are sprawled out on the ground, their dead eyes staring up at the sky. The burial pit for the execution site is about a hundred yards away. No one is claiming their bodies, so that is where they’ll be buried. The executioners tie ropes around the dead women’s feet, preparing to drag them behind horses to the burial pit.
“Stop!” The Decurion’s command voice rings out, bringing their activity to an immediate halt. “I want them carried to the pit, not dragged.”
“What the fuck for?” the main executioner demands. “This is how we always dispose of corpses.”
“Not today. I want them carried. Here, I’ll take this one, pointing to Marcella’s body. Your men take the other two.”
The executioners hesitate, standing uneasily, trying to find the courage to defy the Decurion’s instructions.
“Do it! Now!” shouts Marcus, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Or by god I’ll gut somebody in the next second!”
The executions quickly do as the Decurion orders, not wanting to test his resolve. Marcus bends down and lifts up Marcella’s body, cradling her in his arms. She seems so light to him, so frail as her lifeless head and arms flop down as he carries her. The other women are carried with a little less dignity: one executioner lifts at the shoulders, the other at the knees. But, Marcus notices, at least they are not being dragged like carrion.
At the burial pit the executioners prepare to toss the women in. Marcus orders that they be laid side by side, on their backs, with their arms folded over their chests, in dignity. He places the younger sister down first. The executioners arrange the other two women as ordered. They then throw lime over the bodies.
“Now, cover them with dirt,” he orders.
“What? Slaves will do that later, when more bodies are put in.” The head executioner protests doing work he considers beneath him. But all it takes is an intense glare from Marcus as his hand again goes for the hilt of his sword to convince them to do as ordered.
Marcus watches as the executioners shovel dirt over the women’s bodies. He realizes he has no idea what the names of the sisters are. It just never mattered up to this point. But he does manage to say a few words.
“I’m so sorry, dear girl, that this had to happen to you. May you and your sister find peace and contentment in the afterlife.” Then, almost as an afterthought, “And the slave too.”
****************************************************************************************************************
Almost done folks! Got to wrap things up. Stay tuned!
The Night, then Morning
The long, brutally hot day slowly turns into dusk and then evening. The moon rises above the horizon to replace the sun in the sky. All three women are in severe dehydration despite being watered every hour. They have been kept alert all day with sharp, heated sticks poked into their groins, breasts and armpits whenever they fainted. Now they all show vivid bruises and burns as well as trickles of blood from the more viscous pokes. As darkness descends the crowd begins to thin out. Not much to see by the flicker of torches and the soft rays of a half moon. By the time Apollo rode his chariot below the horizon all but a few had left. Soon they too would be gone. The crucified women will be alone to suffer through the night, left to the tender mercies of whatever emerges from the darkness that envelopes them.
Decurion Marcus Getha sent eight of his detail soldiers back to the barracks after dusk. No need for so many soldiers now, he figured. A four-man detail with two men in each watch is more than sufficient. Marcus himself returns to the city after dark, leaving Priscus in charge. He tells Priscus to expect him back after sunrise. He fervently hopes the younger sister, the crucified innocent, is dead by the time he returns. The slave and the older sister can suffer another day for all he cares; after all, they were crucified for good reasons. He’s perfectly aware of what is likely to happen to the women as they hang helpless in the dark, their crosses illuminated by only the moon and torches. In some ways it might be the most horrible part of their suffering. They are crucified, after all, so by custom – and law – they have no rights or protections as condemned criminals. Literally anything short of purposefully ending their lives is permitted. He knows it will be hellish for them.
Marcella has tried to summon the energy to talk to Thessela about Anna. Several times in all into the early evening hours. But she was not able to convince her sister that Anna was not responsible for their executions. It was just fate, she tried to explain. (Well, about as capably as a crucified woman could carry out an intelligent conversation with another crucified woman next to her. Their words were said with breathy urgency through jaws and lips clenched in pain. Just talking made their agonies flare. It was exhausting work.) Marcella tried to reason with Thessela that Anna’s life and theirs just crossed by sheer happenstance. Anna never accused them of anything or falsely identified them. That was other people and for whatever reasons they had. Anna was a victim, just as they were. She begged Thessela to renounce her curse, but she never did. At some point further conversation became impossible as each sister could only struggle with her own all-consuming agony on the cross. Marcella hadn’t spoken with Anna since late afternoon. Whenever she looked over at her she was hanging very still until she had to move to breathe. Anna looked back at Marcella a few times, her eyes teary and filled with pain. Marcella knew she wanted to hear that Thessela took back her curse. The poor girl was terrified of dying with the curse upon her.
The cooler evening air is not necessarily a blessing for the three women. Though their skins feel as on fire from their fierce daytime sunburns, they begin to shiver as heat is quickly lost from their exposed bodies. The shivering is intense at times causing them considerable spasms of agony as their bodies involuntarily pull and push on their nails. They continue to moan and groan as they struggle to push up to breathe. All three are extremely weak. Their arm and leg muscles by now are knotted in almost permanent spasmodic contractions. Under normal conditions the pain would be beyond endurance. Yet for someone crucified it is simply one additional agony to be endured. They cry out for water, which is given freely and eagerly accepted. Marcella can see the shadowy figures of the guards illuminated by flickering torches. Beyond them is the purple darkness. She can see the city walls against the darkening sky and some soft lights from inside the wall. Soon they will flicker out as the city goes to sleep. Then the dark will be total. The two guards in front of their crosses are carrying on an animated conversation. Every so often they look back over their shoulders, pointing at one or two of them, laughing and making obscene gestures. Marcella groans as panic seizes her. She’s suddenly terrified about what monsters might emerge from that inky blackness. Her heart pounds in her chest – she must breathe. She struggles to push up as she utters a strangled scream. The guards turn and look at her, their eyes glinting evilly in the flickering torchlight, then turn away to continue their conversation.
By midnight Marcella has been crucified for sixteen hours, Thessela thirteen hours, and Anna eleven hours. Marcella has had a serious bladder infection since late afternoon. Along with the intense pelvic pain there is a slow, constant, painful dripping of her urine. She feels as though she desperately needs to pee but bearing down does nothing to empty her bladder. She reflexively clenches her pelvic muscles and squeezes her thighs tightly together, but there is no relief. Just the relentless, fiery pain as each drop of urine leaves her, a torture that were she not crucified would render her utterly incapacitated. But for a crucified woman it is only one additional agony that must be endured. There is one small relief with the night: the insects are far fewer.
It is sometime after midnight, when the night is the most quiet and dark, that the predators come out. Not the ones on four legs that can be scared away with fire or rocks. These were the two-legged variety. They come seeking the women as they helplessly hang on their crosses. With some coins passed to the guards they are allowed to put platforms on the ground before each woman’s cross. Then, stepping up on the platforms, they are able to carry out their depredations.
Marcella can’t clearly the face of the man in front of her, but it’s there, and very ugly. How is that possible, she thinks, that he’s standing eye to eye with me? Then she looks down and sees that he’s standing on a platform placed in front of her cross. What the hell is going on here, she wonders? That question is quickly answered.
The man starts by roughly squeezing her full breasts and tumescent nipples. This by itself causes her to gasp in agony as her skin is both raw from scourging and burned from the sun. With one hand to her breasts, his other hand is slipped into her crotch. His powerful fingers dig deeply into her vagina. She reflexively tries to squeeze her legs together, but cannot stop him. The pain is sharp and tearing. What is he doing to her, she wonders? He’s saying something to her, but she can’t make it out. She smells his foul, rotten breath. It’s overwhelming. She can’t do anything but endure the horrific assault. Then the inevitable: she feels his hands now behind her ass, pulling her pelvis toward him. She screams as her body moves against the nails. With her right foot nailed on top of her left, Marcella’s thighs are kept close together. Her attacker cannot get his body between them easily. But he manages to get a knee between her thighs and pries them apart. He lunges forward and Marcella feels his erection searching for her vagina. He’s trying to rape her as she hangs! He enters her and thrusts deeply and viscously as he rocks her hips towards him. The friction of his cock exacerbates the burning, itching pain from her pee hole. She groans and grunts piteously. Marcella closes her eyes and turns her head to the side, as if she could shut out the horror. She feels his final thrust as he ejaculates inside her. He withdraws, only to be replaced by another equally disgusting man who repeats the awful act. Marcella faints at some point but revives as the sharp sticks grind into her armpits and breasts. She loses track of how many times she is raped.
Thessela and Anna are also assaulted by the rapists as they hang on their crosses. Marcella hears Anna’s heart-rendering groans and pleas to stop. Thessela’s voice is loud and gravelly as she curses them. Marcella hears a man scream, yelling that his ear was bitten. Good for Thess, she thinks! She bit the bastard! But then Marcella hears the heavy sound of his hand slapping Thessela's face, back and forth. Thessela continues to scream and curse at him which only causes him to smack her harder. Suddenly, it’s over. The predators slip back into the dark and vanish. The women are left alone in shock, cum dripping from their ravaged pussies. Thessela is raging – cursing Anna again through swollen lips for causing all their sufferings and degradations. Marcella looks up at the heavens. The moon has set and the stars are bright. Then they all begin to swirl around.
The next thing Marcella knows, it is dawn. The agony of crucifixion seizes her as consciousness is gained. She is hanging from her arms, her legs numb and burning. She shudders and tries to push up to breathe, but her legs fail her as their muscles are tightened in agonizing tonic spasms. She tries to pull up but cannot. Her shoulders are dislocated. Hanging from her arms produces overwhelming burning agony as nerves are stretched and irritated. Ligaments and tendons too are stretched and torn beyond their limits. With an extreme effort she manages to extend her body upward just enough to gulp in some air.
Dawn, and the three women are still alive. But barely.Marcella knows the end is near for her. Just how much longer does she have to suffer? She is unable to push or pull herself up. She is slowly suffocating. She looks over at Thessela whose breathing is deep and ragged. Her time, too, is near. Then over at Anna. Oh, poor Anna! She looks so still and grey. Is she dead? But there’s a twitch and her head bobbles. She’s still alive for now. Marcella looks up at her wrists. They are seeping blood and pus from around the nails. Her wounds are infected. And down at her feet. The same. Good. The infection will carry her off all the sooner. She drops her head and closes her eyes, waiting for death. Moments of unconsciousness are intermixed with periods of intense agony.
She wakes up with a jolt! Hours have passed; it seems midmorning. I’ve been crucified a full day, she realizes. She looks over at her sister. Thessela hangs fully extended from her arms. Her shoulders, too, appear dislocated. Her breathing is barely detectable. She looks over at Anna. The poor girl appears dead. She is ashen grey and not moving. But she notices someone moving beyond Anna’s motionless body. There’s another cross erected, and yet another further down the line. Were more women crucified? Marcella’s vision is cloudy but the figures on the crosses do not appear to have breasts, and their bodies are too muscular. Their semi-erect penises confirm they are men. When did they get here, she wonders? She hears their curses, groans and screams as they go about dancing on their crosses. She notices the spectators are few in number. Apparently crucified men do not attract that large of a crowd.
Suddenly she hears a loud moan coming from Thessela’s cross. Her sister’s breathing is deep and ragged. It’s the death rattle she’s hearing. Thessela suddenly raises her head and looks at Marcella. Now Marcella knows why she revived at this time. Thessela is dying. She has a chance to say goodbye. Thessela turns her swollen face toward Marcella's. Her eyes are wet with tears. Her lips are moving! What is she trying to say? Marcella desperately wishes she knew. Then Thessela exhales and her head drops to her chest and rolls to one side. Her body slumps. Marcella manages a strangled scream at knowing she just saw her sister die. She’s devastated, yet happy she is beyond suffering. Now only she is left. She hangs from her arms and dislocated shoulders; her legs can barely push up. Her agony has never been worse as innumerable pains slash through her body.
Marcella goes in and out of consciousness during the hours up until noon. The executioners no longer use the sticks to keep her alert. They allow her at least that. Her breathing is labored, very shallow. Barely enough air to keep her brain working. She looks down and sees the Decurion standing there. Oh, those damn sad eyes of his! What does he want now? Oh!
Marcus had returned at dawn to find the women still alive, but barely. He was distressed to see that the younger sister still lived. He cursed. She should be dead by now! There was no crowd to speak of this morning. There rarely are any spectators on the second day. Once the women stop struggling on their crosses the crowds lose interest. He arrived leading an escort that brought two naked men bent under the burden of their cross. They are renegade slaves responsible for robberies and killings in the area. Their crosses went up in two of the remaining holes next to the slave. He posted the guard detail and waited for the women to die. The older sister and the slave could last into the afternoon. The slave, however, died soon after the men were crucified. Her breathing had been very shallow and labored. Suddenly she raised her head, gulped deeply, and tried to utter some words. Marcus thought he heard her say something about forgiveness, but wasn’t sure. Then she slumped on her cross as her head fell to her chest. The remaining contents of her bowels emptied to the ground. He didn’t take note when the older sister died a few hours later. The morning had started off very hot and he was in the tent talking with Priscus. He heard a scream from the younger sister. It amazed him she had any voice left at this point. Upon investigating he saw the older sister was dead. He had hoped the younger sister had died to. Then he could have the bodies taken down and be done with this particularly vexing crucifixion.
“Please girl, hurry up and die,” he mutters as he returns to the tent.
At noon Marcus sees the younger sister is still alive! Incredible, given the amount of torture she suffered before crucifixion. It must be the foot block used on her, he figured. It gives her too much support under her body. Her sister had her feet nailed flat against the upright and the slave’s feet had been nailed to the side of the upright. Neither of them had nearly as much support under them and had died sooner because of it. The younger sister barely moves, but when she does Marcus can hear her low, tortured moans. Her agony is still apparent. Why doesn’t she die? Why won’t the girl die? Why is she being made to suffer so much for so long! She’s the innocent! She doesn’t deserve this!
The two that deserved crucifixion died hours ago. Marcus suddenly decides that he must put this poor unfortunate girl out of her misery. Damn the fucking magistrate! He can suck my cock! Marcus draws his sword and places it under the girl’s left breast.
Marcella sees that the Decurion has drawn his sword. She feels it poke the skin under her breast. She looks down at him and murmurs a barely audible thank you. Marcella raises her head skyward and looks up into the clear blue sky. Birds are flying gracefully overhead. So beautiful, she thinks, as the Decurion’s sword slices into her chest. She feels a sharp stab of pain and a warm gush of blood. The world goes dark as she falls into a deep, dark, pain-free abyss.
Marcus orders the executioners to immediately remove the women’s bodies from their crosses. They do so with their usual trained efficiency. The three bodies are sprawled out on the ground, their dead eyes staring up at the sky. The burial pit for the execution site is about a hundred yards away. No one is claiming their bodies, so that is where they’ll be buried. The executioners tie ropes around the dead women’s feet, preparing to drag them behind horses to the burial pit.
“Stop!” The Decurion’s command voice rings out, bringing their activity to an immediate halt. “I want them carried to the pit, not dragged.”
“What the fuck for?” the main executioner demands. “This is how we always dispose of corpses.”
“Not today. I want them carried. Here, I’ll take this one, pointing to Marcella’s body. Your men take the other two.”
The executioners hesitate, standing uneasily, trying to find the courage to defy the Decurion’s instructions.
“Do it! Now!” shouts Marcus, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Or by god I’ll gut somebody in the next second!”
The executions quickly do as the Decurion orders, not wanting to test his resolve. Marcus bends down and lifts up Marcella’s body, cradling her in his arms. She seems so light to him, so frail as her lifeless head and arms flop down as he carries her. The other women are carried with a little less dignity: one executioner lifts at the shoulders, the other at the knees. But, Marcus notices, at least they are not being dragged like carrion.
At the burial pit the executioners prepare to toss the women in. Marcus orders that they be laid side by side, on their backs, with their arms folded over their chests, in dignity. He places the younger sister down first. The executioners arrange the other two women as ordered. They then throw lime over the bodies.
“Now, cover them with dirt,” he orders.
“What? Slaves will do that later, when more bodies are put in.” The head executioner protests doing work he considers beneath him. But all it takes is an intense glare from Marcus as his hand again goes for the hilt of his sword to convince them to do as ordered.
Marcus watches as the executioners shovel dirt over the women’s bodies. He realizes he has no idea what the names of the sisters are. It just never mattered up to this point. But he does manage to say a few words.
“I’m so sorry, dear girl, that this had to happen to you. May you and your sister find peace and contentment in the afterlife.” Then, almost as an afterthought, “And the slave too.”
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Almost done folks! Got to wrap things up. Stay tuned!
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AlexArts
Soul of Cinder
So much drama...
Thank you Marcella...
It will help, Eulalia... I've came here just to see more SJ's artworks, but i've done something more... Unexpected for me my arts have become popular... My own thread... Comments, mentions, stories, role-plays... Thank you all...
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- Status