Amica 95
Crucifixion
The Forum, the wonderful Forum of Pompeii, the Square of the Temples, is transformed into the most horrible theatre of death you could imagine. The view that meets my fear-clouded eyes is the most terrible ever seen, sixty crosses, each corresponding to a column of the buildings that overlook the long sides of the square on the inside, two endless rows of crosses from which hang motionless bodies in a tableau of grotesque choreography. Only the places at the far end, in front of the building of Eumachia, are still free, waiting for us.
In the centre of the square an immense pyre is burning, the acrid smoke carrying the smell of burning flesh rises from the fire, consuming the remains of those who preceded us yesterday. The corrupt air spreads a blackish cloud that hovers over the pavement.
A kaleidoscope of bright dots is dancing before my eyes, I’m in danger of falling forward, I can’t keep standing. I slide slowly to the ground onto my knees, bowed under the beam of timber that holds my arms wide. I try to lift myself up with my hands, breathing heavily, gasping, my head pounding, vomiting bitter tasting bile. I'm still coughing and spitting when in front of me I see someone's feet approaching. I raise a dazed look, no more than two paces away a naked man, covered with dust and blood, is stretching his arm toward me. I think at first it's a vision caused by the infected air, and with a huge effort I get up, staggering like a drunk, blinking to drive away the sweat, trying to focus on the sight, the figure, framed by wisps of black smoke. He’s holding a scourge, he grabs me by the hair, pulling me towards him, I'm in no state to resist, I want to run away, but I can hardly lift my feet.
‘What a cute pretty Christian whore’s brat! I certainly won’t mind getting your butt open!'
He drags me toward my gallows, passing behind crosses which already host my comrades in suffering.
'Saeditiosa et fugitiva, rebel and runaway! You’ll get special treatment!'
he growls, throwing me to my knees at the foot of the upright of my cross.
His huge penis assaults the narrow sphincter of my anus, pushing with brute force, instinctively I try to resist, but only make it worse, my muscles surrender and his monstrous spear breaks into my bowels. A second flagellator comes, he’s just finished dealing with a girl who’s to the right of me, delivering her to the team of executioners. He’s naked too, and covered in blood. He grabs my head, I don’t even get time to scream before I find his penis buried in my throat, I can’t even close my jaws to bite because of retching that’s surging up from my stomach.
A small crowd of onlookers is cheering on my pair of rapists, I remain at the mercy of their brutal violence for a time that seems endless, and then I'm invaded by their sperm, even vomiting it out from my guts, the liquid mingles with the blood of the crucified girl who has just been taken down from the cross that’s now welcoming me. Dazed, I collapse in the sticky mud.
Only a few moments of respite, then another man approaches, this one’s holding a knife and some rope. He grabs my hair, examining it with what seems a professional air, passing my strands between his fingers. He puts a knife between his teeth, diligently arranges my crowning glory into three bunches, recovers the blade, and cuts off all my curls at the scalp.
'Beautiful, no doubt about it. I'll make a good profit. You won’t be needing it any more, it'll become a wig for some rich matron.'
He grins, putting what has always been my proudest ornament into a sack where he’s collecting the best material for his craft.
The first man, the one who possessed me against nature, returns with a crown of thorns that he’s just recovered from the body of a crucified girl which has been placed on the horrendous pyre. Helped by the other flagellator, he forces the royal ornament around my head. I scream, in terror rather than pain, as the thorns sink into the fragile flesh of my face, copiously cascading blood clouds my vision.
The first blow of the scourge that strikes my back feels like the bite of a shark tearing my flesh, I try to scream, but not the slightest sound comes out of my mouth, so great is the pain. Taking turns, first one then the other, back, chest, buttocks, belly, thighs, hips, nothing is overlooked, while splashes of my blood smear their skin, mingling with the sweat of their labour. As for me, I've not even got the strength to grab the ropes that bind me to my bar.
When their work's complete, I hang almost lifeless on the ropes, I can hardly take in what's going on around me. I see a cohort of demons that rush about, snatching bodies, raising beams with poor bodies nailed to them, hammering in more nails to attach their feet to the trunks of the crosses. It seems everything's happening in a different dimension, in a world of its own and I'm just a spectator, watching from afar.
'Now then, Fugitiva - with these nails in you, you won’t get to run away!'
The monster that takes control of me to nail me doesn’t miss the opportunity for yet another rape. Kneeling with my forehead on the ground in the mud mixed with my blood, I’m penetrated from behind in my vagina, he’s immediately imitated by his team, some who prefer the pussy, some the arsehole, each to his taste.
The ropes are untied, the wood that I’ve been bearing with so much effort is put aside, a big bloody beam is set onto my back - everything is reused, even the nails, now caked and rusty, but how do they want to nail me? Two of them hold me face down with my arms resting on the back of the beam, the other two keep my legs apart with the front of my foot on a second beam.
The crucifier sets the first nail just above my right wrist, with a tremendous blow of his mallet it pierces my forearm, breaking the bones. The pain invades my whole body, but I’m still more seized with pain that seems caused by punching between my eyes from hammering within my brain, an explosion that’s destroying my mind. I’m screaming now, yelling with all the little breath I have left, blow after blow, but my cry is continuous, the pain is driving me to madness. Then my feet are drilled from the instep to the back, fixing me in an obscene position.
Ropes are slipped around to rest on a cylindrical iron bar that extends from side to side over the top of a drum and serves as a pulley and a support. This strange posture that the 'Master of Nails' has chosen for me doesn’t tear my arms as they’re not stretched from the beam, and my weight is resting on the wood - this will ensure more prolonged agony. Even the beam holding my legs spread apart is lifted up by the same rope, to the point where I find myself posed as if I were kneeling.
Now, up on ladders, the specialists complete their work. One of them sinks his fist into my arsehole to widen it as far as possible for entry of the cornu, a knotty stick that breaks through my bowels, another pierces the quivering flesh of my right breast with a spare nail, a third probes with a knife, attempting to push a nail between the labia of my poor pussy, the last one pierces my left breast with the tip of a spear, bursting the flesh from which flows blood and milk.
A terrible earthquake interrupts these operations, the two ladders tumble to the ground taking with them the vicious monsters that have ravaged my poor body, but the shaking penetrates me through the cornu that has sunk into my body.
The crowd that has been watching my martyrdom turns towards Vesuvius, in an unreal silence we see a huge pillar of fire and ash rise up into the sky, a few seconds later comes the cry of the wounded mountain, the noise is so intense that the people throw themselves to the ground, covering their ears with their hands. It’s a most painful roar, like a nail being driven through my ears into my head, for a long time I cannot hear any other sound.
Oh wow, Luna! If that doesn't take away everyone's breath here at cf, I don't know what will!!!! Sensational ending!! So brutally chilling and sweeping in its description. We can all feel her pain and humiliation. Even the mountain is outraged by the barbarism of the spectacle. So motivated, it will now take down the whole town in a rain of ash and a flood of molten lava.
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I would cheer this kind of treatment for a worthy criminal, but this is simply unacceptable for our poor Amica! Our noble Amica! I can't imagine how she feels!
Her hair, her dignity, her freedom, all so cruelly removed. Now the common rabble only laugh at her shorn locks and exposed body.
We see now though that nature can only tolerate such injustice for so long! Surely a sign from the gods if anyone was smart enough to see through the blood and grime covering her body that her mistreatment must stop. Unfortunately for them they only see a disobedient slavegirl...
