Amica 84
Blindfolded, wrists bound behind my back, I'm dragged away to suffer the worst humiliation and violence, as the spy has promised. I’m thrown to the floor, they bind my ankles, then lift me off the ground, suspended upside down with my legs spread. Into my mouth they force a large ring tied with a rope. Immediately a huge penis slips up into the back of my throat, hands are tormenting my teats, opening my cavern, sinking into my tender breasts.
I cannot breathe, I’m squirming like a snake, but all I get in response is someone starting my course of floggings that will tear my skin. I feel blood running down my lacerated limbs, my skin burning like it’s being scalded with hot irons. I have to stop myself from any reaction, and surrender my body to the brutality of my rapists.
I feel like a doe attacked and torn apart by a pack of wolves, every one of them wanting a piece and waging a fierce contest with his rivals that just means giving the victim more violence, each one fiercely defends the piece of bloody flesh he’s just won, that then he loses it and it’s ceded to a new attacker.
I have no sense of time, no sense of space, I no longer even feel the pain, it’s as if my body has become numb, a bundle of rags which belongs to some other woman. I just manage a few spasmodic coughs to get rid of the sperm that they’ve all pumped into my throat. I’m sinking into a state of semi-consciousness because of the way they’ve hung me up, I can barely take in what’s happening, only the most intense pains make me jump, then I slide back into oblivion.
I wake up suddenly with a cry, a jet of cold water brings me back into the nightmare, but now I’m being are dragged out of a cell I’ve been sharing with other girls, and outside I realise our prison is located within the walls of Pompeii, near the Vesuvian Gate, by the Castellum Aquae.
We’re lined against the wall waiting to be bound to each other with a rope around our necks and our wrists tied a short, stout stick. Where are they going to take us?
The first light is fading the stars, it’s still some time before dawn, but we’re already on our way, what will be our fate?
Wagons coming down the road slow our steps, merchants and peasants observe a clutch of women prisoners proceeding to our place of execution, at least that’s what I infer, but the journey becomes longer, we progress slowly, barefoot and totally nude, along the dusty road that heads east along the slopes of Vesuvius.
Now our skin’s burning under the rising sun. In front of me there’s a girl whose athletic body enhances the perfect shape of her buttocks that move at each step without jolting, her skin is amber, her hair jet-black, she’s showing no sign of fatigue, though her skin is marked by the strokes of the whip that she too has received.
The landscape here is more wild, the vegetation becoming sparse, bare rocks parched by the sun are home to only twigs and dry thorny bushes. In a deep cleft in the valley that cuts into the side of the mountain acrid smoke hangs in the air. As we turn right some structures come into view, they look ruined, but above the chimney that dominates one of these there rises a column of smoke that drifts away among the craggy cliffs. Is this our place of execution? Or is it to be our new prison?
Our way is blocked by a stone arch, carved on the stone voussoirs in front are the words:
LABOR LIBEROS FACIT
A cart pulled by placid white longhorn oxen comes from the area of the ruins carrying a load of tiles and bricks, then a second wagon appears, on it are lined up bags of different colours, it seems the place is a furnace.
Vespasian
Vespasian
