Zephirantes
Magistrate
In the distant outpost of Lumetia Umbariorum, a small village at the far reaches of the Roman Empire, the pompous and vain General Marcus Scrotus Verrucosus seeks to stage a grand spectacle to mark his latest “triumph”—a minor victory over the nearly forgotten tribe of the Umbarian people. Although his conquest is trivial, Verrucosus, an overweight and self-important man with little else to celebrate, is determined to turn this very minor achievement of his into an extravagant display. He orders that the main road of Lumetia, soon to be renamed 'Via Verrucosa' in his honor, be lined with crucified prisoners and slaves, ensuring an impressive scene of agony, nudity, and death.
He is a man of (sadistic) taste, indeed!
To meet the general’s demands, every patrician in Lumetia is expected to offer a young, troublesome slave for execution.
Among them is the gentle but pragmatic Lucius Lepidus Bonarium, a kind aristocrat in his late-30s, who has always treated his slaves with great leniency. In fact, none of his slaves are truly insubordinate as he treats them more like... family, in a sense.
In particular, he has a soft spot for Mirta, a now 18-year-old slave he adopted when she was just as an orphaned baby.
A spirited and attractive slave-girl with a head of red curls, Mirta is lively, outspoken, and occasionally a bit mischievous, known for her flirtatious nature and her penchant for pushing boundaries. Though she affectionately calls Lucius “Uncle,” and his lead carpenter Carolus—an older, loyal slave—“Uncle Carolus,” her boldness hasn’t gone unnoticed, least of all by heinous Scrotus Verrucosus, who made it explicit that her rightful place was on a wooden cross.
Despite her status as a common slave, she’s cherished and loved by both her master and Carolus, and her cheerful demeanor and upbeat spirit make her a beloved member of the household.
Unfortunately, General Scrotus Verrucosus has taken an interest in Mirta, seeing in her the perfect addition to his triumph’s display. And while Lucius would never willingly send her to a gruesome death on a cross, he finds himself with no choice: refusing would bring dire consequences, even charges of treason against Rome and the princeps himself. With heavy hearts, Lucius and Carolus must reckon with the fate awaiting the young woman they’ve come to love as family...
- - -
Cruxstrike! or... 'Via Verrucosa'
[female crucifixion][Roman setting][various tortures][semi-cons./reluctant victim]
Chapter 1: The General’s Demand
Lucius Bonarium stands in his villa’s sun-drenched courtyard, arms folded, watching as the official messengers from General Scrotus Verrucosus disappear down the dusty road. His face carries a resigned look as he contemplates the news they’ve brought. In the shade nearby, young Mirta sits perched on a low wall, swinging her legs and pouting. Her loose tunic drapes haphazardly, offering occasional glimpses of her slender figure, and she watches him with a mischievous glint despite the looming seriousness.
“Uncle Lucius,” she teases, her voice light, “why the long face? Surely not on account of some dusty general and his silly crosses.”
Lucius lets out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit. “If only it were so simple, Mirta. That damn Scrotus Verrucosus wants a tribute from each of us slave-owners, and not just any tribute.”
Her playful expression fades as the implication dawns on her. “Yes, yes, I know,” she says with a hint of bitterness. “He wants slaves writhing and squirming on his crosses, all naked and screaming for mercy.” She sighs dramatically, tossing her fiery curls back. “But surely you wouldn’t offer up a cute slave-girl like me, right?”
Lucius’s face softens as he looks at her, clearly pained, but before he can respond, Carolus, his main carpenter and longtime friend, chimes in with a laugh. “Now, now, Mirta, you’re the only one of us with that fiery spark, that… character, they’d fancy for this gruesome display.”
Mirta glares at him, shifting her posture so her tunic falls even more suggestively. “And what about you, Uncle Carolus? Isn’t there some rule that only old men should be crucified?”
Carolus grins, shaking his head. “Oh, if only, child! But Scrotus has his eyes set on the young and beautiful... and troublesome. And you check all the boxes! Troublemaker is basically your middle name, sweetheart!”
Mirta folds her arms, eyes flashing. “I am not troublesome! I'm just an innocent, naïve, shy young girl,” she insists, though a mischievous smirk betrays her.
Lucius arches an eyebrow. “Oh, not troublesome? What about the time you spilled wine all over my best tunic? Or when you let the chickens loose in the atrium? Just to name what you did last week.”
“Those were… minor accidents,” she retorts with a little pout, eyes narrowing.
Carolus snorts, clearly amused. “Minor accidents, she says! By the gods, girl, you’re as troublesome as they come!” He gives her a wink. “Besides, you like flashing your tits and pussy to us, don’t you?”
Mirta rolls her eyes, blushing slightly. “Well, maybe it’s just the tunic! Blame the tailor, not me.”
Carolus crosses his arms with a smirk. “And you often touch yourself in full public view… so much for the ‘innocent’ and ‘shy’ girl! You cannot refrain from shamelessly masturbating yourself!”
Her cheeks go scarlet, and she averts her gaze. “I… I don’t know what you mean!”
“Confess, gal!” Carolus says, his grin widening.
Mirta huffs, muttering under her breath. “Alright, alright, maybe I like fingering my… pussy,” she admits, clearly embarrassed.
Carolus chuckles. “Well, when your hands will be nailed on the wood, you won’t touch anything anymore, I’m afraid.”
He lets the words sink in, then leans closer, his tone almost affectionate. “And you use to finger that puckered little arsehole of yours too, if I recall,” he adds, his eyes twinkling. “We caught you with two fingers there more than once! Dear Juno, I could see how stretched your sphincter was! As open as the Colosseum.”
Mirta groans, her blush intensifying. “Okay, okay, it has happened! It’s just that I have this sexy body of mine, and… well, it seems a pity not to enjoy it fully, don’t you think? My nether holes demand attention from time to time, and yeah, I like to stretch myself… open.”
Lucius stifles a chuckle as he watches her flustered expression. “That’s your excuse for shamelessly masturbating like a slut?”
Mirta crosses her arms defiantly, her tone softening just a bit. “I’m just 18, I’m a hot girl, and I like… cumming, you know.”
Carolus chuckles louder, giving her a knowing look. “We noticed. Sometimes you squirt.”
“Uncle Carolus!” Mirta exclaims, her tone almost scandalized. “There’s no need to be so… graphic. It’s embarrassing.”
Carolus just shrugs with a grin. “You’re so porn, gal. But hey, don’t get all red: in a way, it’s a good thing, you’re… interesting to watch.”
- - -
Jim just couldn't explain it, and he couldn't help but ask, “Professor, but ... don't you think this semantic choice is... anachronistic?”
“Which one?” replied Professor Balkan, full professor of Archaeology and History of Torture, Executions, and Witch-hunts at Salem College for Superior Education, with a faux-sleepy air.
He actually wanted to see if his students could spot these inconsistencies on their own.
“Well ... pornography,” declared Jim.
“Pornography,” quipped Karen, a somewhat know-it-all student who really thinks she knows it all, ”comes from the word in ancient Greek 'πορνεία', meaning prostitution, so no, it doesn't mean at all that these Annales Historiae Umbarorum were tampered with later.”
“Good for ancient Greek,” the professor quipped, ”but bad for general culture my dear: indeed, the modern word 'pornography' does not appear in European languages until the second half of the 19th century.”
“Oh,” Karen quipped, astonished. “But that means...”
“That's right, several hands have dealt with this text, and at different times. Now go ahead and read to the class Jill...”
- - -
Lucius steps in, his tone gentler, though his eyes reveal the regret he feels. “Oh, and please don’t play the embarrassed girl with us. Anyway, your intimate orifices will get a lot of attention as you will hang affixed to your cross, slowly dying: stay sure of that.”
Mirta shudders, her playful expression fading for a moment. “Mirta, don’t take it badly,” he says, “you know we like you. But you’re a bit of a teaser, and a slut. A sexy slut indeed… right? And it was really a very bad move on your part to tease a pompous asshole like General Scrotus Verrucosus.”
She shoots him an indignant look, trying to mask her fear. “Well, maybe I’m a slut, as you say, but… that doesn’t mean I deserve to die naked and in pain!”
Lucius sighs, reaching out to gently pat her shoulder. “You sure don’t, sweetie. Point is, ‘deserve’ has nothing to do with this.” He pauses, a small smirk playing at his lips. “That line might become famous one day, I think.”
- - -
“Notice anything?” the professor asked, interrupting Jill's reading.
“Is that a... quote from something?” asked Karen.
“Yes, I seem to remember but...” added Brad, undecided. “I don't know, from 'Kill Bill' maybe?”
“I think it's from 'Avengers',” a male voice from the back of the classroom stated confidently.
Professor Balkan tolerates many things, including people who eat pizza with pineapples and philistines who spread foie gras on bread, but if there is one thing he detests in the highest degree, it is those who don't like the movies he likes and who, more importantly, know crappy movies inside out.
Yes, he is that kind of person.
His voice became shrill and unpleasant, like a knife flaying the bones of its victim.
“No, just no! It's from 'Unforgiven' dammit, a masterpiece of modern cinema. Don't you take the modern film class with Professor Warren anymore? She's got shitty taste too, but at least she covers Eastwood's cinema in her syllabus...”
“But... Professor Warren, you know, she was found disemboweled in her office at the beginning of the semester,” Bill replies, not at all comfortable recalling this event.
It shook the entire Salem community, and the person who cut her open from pussy to sternum is still missing.
“Oh yeah, I forgot about that, what a tragedy,” retorted Professor Balkan with an expression that seemed to belie his condolences. “Jill, please read on, let us forget such bloody events...”
An at least bizarre statement while reading a tale of crucifixions...
- - -
“In truth, Mirta, you’re perfect to die naked on a cross,” Carolus chimes in, grinning. “Dancing there, nailed in hands and ankles for all to see, would certainly valorize those pretty female bits you like to flash at us.”
Lucius nods thoughtfully, though his eyes are kind. “Yeah, the extreme pain and exposure will make you squirm a lot… look at the bright side, you’re gonna be super-sexy snuffing it all bare and sweaty like that!”
Carolus laughs, adding with a wink, “And… with a wooden sedile splitting your precious cunt! I’m Master Lucius’s best carpenter, so I’ll design one specifically suited to hurt your pretty pussy good.”
Mirta’s face twists in horror as she imagines it, but she tries to mask her fear with sarcasm. “Perfect! Just what I need in my final moments, a rough plank grinding into my poor sex.”
Lucius offers a small, regretful smile. “Mirta, don’t worry too much about the sedile. Rubbing your vagina on it might even distract you a lot… the pain of being stretched and the thought of dying can be a bit overwhelming at times, I imagine. The sedile stretching open your pussy might well make your deadly ordeal much more… bearable, perhaps.”
“Bearable!” she scoffs. “You think I’ll be thankful for that, huh?”
Carolus chuckles. “You like cumming too much for your own good. Who knows, maybe you’ll shamelessly cum even as the sedile parts your twat. That would be nice for you, uh?”
Mirta scoffs, but her eyes betray her anxiety. “That would be super-humiliating!”
Lucius smiles softly, taking her hand for a moment. “I know you don’t want this, Mirta. But you’ll entertain many people, for sure. If I could spare you, I would, but at least know that your painful execution will be appreciated…”
Mirta’s bravado falters, and she looks up at him with wide eyes. “So, this is it, then? I’ll be dying for all to see? My poor body tortured on that cross, my bare… tits, vagina, and asshole on display?”
Carolus nods, his tone softening for the first time. “But you’ll be magnificent, girl. All of Lumetia will marvel at the sight of you, and who knows? Maybe even Scrotus Verrucosus himself will be moved by your bare suffering. We will be, of course...”
Lucius nods, his eyes warm but his voice solemn. “Indeed, I expect your vag will… blossom, rather obscenely, I confess. But it's gonna be a sight. In a way, I look forward to seeing your naked death-show.”
Mirta flushes, shooting them both a glare as she mutters, “Somehow, you two always make it sound like I should be grateful to have you focus on my female bits. So typical of men! This is fucking patriarchy!”
Carolus roars with laughter, clapping his hands. “Patriarchy or not, my dear, you’re about to be snuffed in agony! And think of it this way, you’ll look radiant under the sun, every bare inch of you glistening in sweat.”
- - -
“It is implied that there is a high possibility that these references to patriarchy are a... later addition, so to speak,” Professor Balkan pointed out.
“Let's hope so, otherwise it would mean that there were woke even in the time of the Romans,” Jim added with a laugh.
But he was the only one laughing, as all eyes turned on him.
On the boys in the classroom fell a veil of fright.
The girls in the classroom looked at Jim with utter disdain, freezing him.
A female voice was also heard whispering “incel asshole,” but it was hard to tell who had spoken exactly, and, in fact, nobody cared.
Meanwhile, professor Balkan was somewhat amused by this exchange between the two sides, like a cruel naturalist who sees ants from two different nests slaughtering each other for no reason at all, and... heartily enjoying the massacre.
“I would say we can continue with the reading...”
- - -
“I cannot really believe you’re speaking of having me horribly hurt and killed! You’re, like, my family; you’ve known me since I was a baby, and now you seem so okay with having me naked and tortured and executed,” Mirta’s voice trembles, her defiant tone faltering as fear seeps in.
Carolus sighs, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “Look, lass, we are as distraught as you are… well, okay, maybe not exactly as you are, but stay sure, we care about you,” he says, attempting to ease her distress, though the grim reality hangs heavy in the air.
Lucius’s gaze softens as he meets her eyes. “You’ve been a servant in my manor for 18 years, and surely I like having you running around everywhere and hearing your bratty banters, but hey, here reality breaks in. I’ll miss you a lot when you’re just a hanging corpse, but I cannot save you from your rather… pornographic execution.”
He shakes his head with a resigned sigh. “Not without getting me into trouble, which, I confess, I won’t do for you. You’re a slave, after all, it’s so out of place for a patrician like me to risk an indictment to save a slave girl like you. Sorry I'm blunt here, but hey, it is what it is.”
Mirta bites her lip, her fists clenching as she swallows hard. “I… I understand,” she whispers, barely audible, the weight of it sinking in as her brave front finally crumbles a little.
Lucius watches her, sadness etched on his face. “So, you see, darling, you really have to suffer and die.”
Mirta’s eyes glint with a sudden spark of defiance as she lifts her chin. “Not if I can think of a way out of this deadly ordeal,” she says, a hint of hope flickering in her voice.
Carolus gives her a fond but pitying smile, patting her shoulder. “Think away, sweet girl. But remember: in three days, Scrotus Verrucosus and his bunch of good-for-nothings legionaries will be here in Lumetia, demanding your pretty bare body nailed to that cross, unless you’ve got a miracle up those short sleeves of yours. Which I doubt, alas.”
Mirta’s eyes narrow, her mind racing with the seeds of an idea, however desperate or impossible it might seem. But as Lucius and Carolus turn to leave, she bites her lip, a glint of determination sparking in her pretty eyes.
She may be bound for a cross, her flesh exposed to the harsh sun and her suffering destined to entertain the townsfolk, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t at least try to find a way out.
- - -
PS: Professor Balkan is an old acquaintance of this forum since he appeared in my previous story "Apocalypta". This fine fellow enjoys reading strangely anachronistic execution tales in his classes, and in his pockets he always carries the amulet of Yog, the Lord of the Empty Dwellings, which he retrieved from a nameless tomb when he was but a young and inexperienced archeology student. The pendant still continues murmuring unimaginable cruelties to him... or so he thinks at least. Chances are it's all in his cultured yet wicked mind, after all.
He is a man of (sadistic) taste, indeed!
To meet the general’s demands, every patrician in Lumetia is expected to offer a young, troublesome slave for execution.
Among them is the gentle but pragmatic Lucius Lepidus Bonarium, a kind aristocrat in his late-30s, who has always treated his slaves with great leniency. In fact, none of his slaves are truly insubordinate as he treats them more like... family, in a sense.
In particular, he has a soft spot for Mirta, a now 18-year-old slave he adopted when she was just as an orphaned baby.
A spirited and attractive slave-girl with a head of red curls, Mirta is lively, outspoken, and occasionally a bit mischievous, known for her flirtatious nature and her penchant for pushing boundaries. Though she affectionately calls Lucius “Uncle,” and his lead carpenter Carolus—an older, loyal slave—“Uncle Carolus,” her boldness hasn’t gone unnoticed, least of all by heinous Scrotus Verrucosus, who made it explicit that her rightful place was on a wooden cross.
Despite her status as a common slave, she’s cherished and loved by both her master and Carolus, and her cheerful demeanor and upbeat spirit make her a beloved member of the household.
Unfortunately, General Scrotus Verrucosus has taken an interest in Mirta, seeing in her the perfect addition to his triumph’s display. And while Lucius would never willingly send her to a gruesome death on a cross, he finds himself with no choice: refusing would bring dire consequences, even charges of treason against Rome and the princeps himself. With heavy hearts, Lucius and Carolus must reckon with the fate awaiting the young woman they’ve come to love as family...
- - -
Cruxstrike! or... 'Via Verrucosa'
[female crucifixion][Roman setting][various tortures][semi-cons./reluctant victim]
Chapter 1: The General’s Demand
Lucius Bonarium stands in his villa’s sun-drenched courtyard, arms folded, watching as the official messengers from General Scrotus Verrucosus disappear down the dusty road. His face carries a resigned look as he contemplates the news they’ve brought. In the shade nearby, young Mirta sits perched on a low wall, swinging her legs and pouting. Her loose tunic drapes haphazardly, offering occasional glimpses of her slender figure, and she watches him with a mischievous glint despite the looming seriousness.
“Uncle Lucius,” she teases, her voice light, “why the long face? Surely not on account of some dusty general and his silly crosses.”
Lucius lets out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit. “If only it were so simple, Mirta. That damn Scrotus Verrucosus wants a tribute from each of us slave-owners, and not just any tribute.”
Her playful expression fades as the implication dawns on her. “Yes, yes, I know,” she says with a hint of bitterness. “He wants slaves writhing and squirming on his crosses, all naked and screaming for mercy.” She sighs dramatically, tossing her fiery curls back. “But surely you wouldn’t offer up a cute slave-girl like me, right?”
Lucius’s face softens as he looks at her, clearly pained, but before he can respond, Carolus, his main carpenter and longtime friend, chimes in with a laugh. “Now, now, Mirta, you’re the only one of us with that fiery spark, that… character, they’d fancy for this gruesome display.”
Mirta glares at him, shifting her posture so her tunic falls even more suggestively. “And what about you, Uncle Carolus? Isn’t there some rule that only old men should be crucified?”
Carolus grins, shaking his head. “Oh, if only, child! But Scrotus has his eyes set on the young and beautiful... and troublesome. And you check all the boxes! Troublemaker is basically your middle name, sweetheart!”
Mirta folds her arms, eyes flashing. “I am not troublesome! I'm just an innocent, naïve, shy young girl,” she insists, though a mischievous smirk betrays her.
Lucius arches an eyebrow. “Oh, not troublesome? What about the time you spilled wine all over my best tunic? Or when you let the chickens loose in the atrium? Just to name what you did last week.”
“Those were… minor accidents,” she retorts with a little pout, eyes narrowing.
Carolus snorts, clearly amused. “Minor accidents, she says! By the gods, girl, you’re as troublesome as they come!” He gives her a wink. “Besides, you like flashing your tits and pussy to us, don’t you?”
Mirta rolls her eyes, blushing slightly. “Well, maybe it’s just the tunic! Blame the tailor, not me.”
Carolus crosses his arms with a smirk. “And you often touch yourself in full public view… so much for the ‘innocent’ and ‘shy’ girl! You cannot refrain from shamelessly masturbating yourself!”
Her cheeks go scarlet, and she averts her gaze. “I… I don’t know what you mean!”
“Confess, gal!” Carolus says, his grin widening.
Mirta huffs, muttering under her breath. “Alright, alright, maybe I like fingering my… pussy,” she admits, clearly embarrassed.
Carolus chuckles. “Well, when your hands will be nailed on the wood, you won’t touch anything anymore, I’m afraid.”
He lets the words sink in, then leans closer, his tone almost affectionate. “And you use to finger that puckered little arsehole of yours too, if I recall,” he adds, his eyes twinkling. “We caught you with two fingers there more than once! Dear Juno, I could see how stretched your sphincter was! As open as the Colosseum.”
Mirta groans, her blush intensifying. “Okay, okay, it has happened! It’s just that I have this sexy body of mine, and… well, it seems a pity not to enjoy it fully, don’t you think? My nether holes demand attention from time to time, and yeah, I like to stretch myself… open.”
Lucius stifles a chuckle as he watches her flustered expression. “That’s your excuse for shamelessly masturbating like a slut?”
Mirta crosses her arms defiantly, her tone softening just a bit. “I’m just 18, I’m a hot girl, and I like… cumming, you know.”
Carolus chuckles louder, giving her a knowing look. “We noticed. Sometimes you squirt.”
“Uncle Carolus!” Mirta exclaims, her tone almost scandalized. “There’s no need to be so… graphic. It’s embarrassing.”
Carolus just shrugs with a grin. “You’re so porn, gal. But hey, don’t get all red: in a way, it’s a good thing, you’re… interesting to watch.”
- - -
Jim just couldn't explain it, and he couldn't help but ask, “Professor, but ... don't you think this semantic choice is... anachronistic?”
“Which one?” replied Professor Balkan, full professor of Archaeology and History of Torture, Executions, and Witch-hunts at Salem College for Superior Education, with a faux-sleepy air.
He actually wanted to see if his students could spot these inconsistencies on their own.
“Well ... pornography,” declared Jim.
“Pornography,” quipped Karen, a somewhat know-it-all student who really thinks she knows it all, ”comes from the word in ancient Greek 'πορνεία', meaning prostitution, so no, it doesn't mean at all that these Annales Historiae Umbarorum were tampered with later.”
“Good for ancient Greek,” the professor quipped, ”but bad for general culture my dear: indeed, the modern word 'pornography' does not appear in European languages until the second half of the 19th century.”
“Oh,” Karen quipped, astonished. “But that means...”
“That's right, several hands have dealt with this text, and at different times. Now go ahead and read to the class Jill...”
- - -
Lucius steps in, his tone gentler, though his eyes reveal the regret he feels. “Oh, and please don’t play the embarrassed girl with us. Anyway, your intimate orifices will get a lot of attention as you will hang affixed to your cross, slowly dying: stay sure of that.”
Mirta shudders, her playful expression fading for a moment. “Mirta, don’t take it badly,” he says, “you know we like you. But you’re a bit of a teaser, and a slut. A sexy slut indeed… right? And it was really a very bad move on your part to tease a pompous asshole like General Scrotus Verrucosus.”
She shoots him an indignant look, trying to mask her fear. “Well, maybe I’m a slut, as you say, but… that doesn’t mean I deserve to die naked and in pain!”
Lucius sighs, reaching out to gently pat her shoulder. “You sure don’t, sweetie. Point is, ‘deserve’ has nothing to do with this.” He pauses, a small smirk playing at his lips. “That line might become famous one day, I think.”
- - -
“Notice anything?” the professor asked, interrupting Jill's reading.
“Is that a... quote from something?” asked Karen.
“Yes, I seem to remember but...” added Brad, undecided. “I don't know, from 'Kill Bill' maybe?”
“I think it's from 'Avengers',” a male voice from the back of the classroom stated confidently.
Professor Balkan tolerates many things, including people who eat pizza with pineapples and philistines who spread foie gras on bread, but if there is one thing he detests in the highest degree, it is those who don't like the movies he likes and who, more importantly, know crappy movies inside out.
Yes, he is that kind of person.
His voice became shrill and unpleasant, like a knife flaying the bones of its victim.
“No, just no! It's from 'Unforgiven' dammit, a masterpiece of modern cinema. Don't you take the modern film class with Professor Warren anymore? She's got shitty taste too, but at least she covers Eastwood's cinema in her syllabus...”
“But... Professor Warren, you know, she was found disemboweled in her office at the beginning of the semester,” Bill replies, not at all comfortable recalling this event.
It shook the entire Salem community, and the person who cut her open from pussy to sternum is still missing.
“Oh yeah, I forgot about that, what a tragedy,” retorted Professor Balkan with an expression that seemed to belie his condolences. “Jill, please read on, let us forget such bloody events...”
An at least bizarre statement while reading a tale of crucifixions...
- - -
“In truth, Mirta, you’re perfect to die naked on a cross,” Carolus chimes in, grinning. “Dancing there, nailed in hands and ankles for all to see, would certainly valorize those pretty female bits you like to flash at us.”
Lucius nods thoughtfully, though his eyes are kind. “Yeah, the extreme pain and exposure will make you squirm a lot… look at the bright side, you’re gonna be super-sexy snuffing it all bare and sweaty like that!”
Carolus laughs, adding with a wink, “And… with a wooden sedile splitting your precious cunt! I’m Master Lucius’s best carpenter, so I’ll design one specifically suited to hurt your pretty pussy good.”
Mirta’s face twists in horror as she imagines it, but she tries to mask her fear with sarcasm. “Perfect! Just what I need in my final moments, a rough plank grinding into my poor sex.”
Lucius offers a small, regretful smile. “Mirta, don’t worry too much about the sedile. Rubbing your vagina on it might even distract you a lot… the pain of being stretched and the thought of dying can be a bit overwhelming at times, I imagine. The sedile stretching open your pussy might well make your deadly ordeal much more… bearable, perhaps.”
“Bearable!” she scoffs. “You think I’ll be thankful for that, huh?”
Carolus chuckles. “You like cumming too much for your own good. Who knows, maybe you’ll shamelessly cum even as the sedile parts your twat. That would be nice for you, uh?”
Mirta scoffs, but her eyes betray her anxiety. “That would be super-humiliating!”
Lucius smiles softly, taking her hand for a moment. “I know you don’t want this, Mirta. But you’ll entertain many people, for sure. If I could spare you, I would, but at least know that your painful execution will be appreciated…”
Mirta’s bravado falters, and she looks up at him with wide eyes. “So, this is it, then? I’ll be dying for all to see? My poor body tortured on that cross, my bare… tits, vagina, and asshole on display?”
Carolus nods, his tone softening for the first time. “But you’ll be magnificent, girl. All of Lumetia will marvel at the sight of you, and who knows? Maybe even Scrotus Verrucosus himself will be moved by your bare suffering. We will be, of course...”
Lucius nods, his eyes warm but his voice solemn. “Indeed, I expect your vag will… blossom, rather obscenely, I confess. But it's gonna be a sight. In a way, I look forward to seeing your naked death-show.”
Mirta flushes, shooting them both a glare as she mutters, “Somehow, you two always make it sound like I should be grateful to have you focus on my female bits. So typical of men! This is fucking patriarchy!”
Carolus roars with laughter, clapping his hands. “Patriarchy or not, my dear, you’re about to be snuffed in agony! And think of it this way, you’ll look radiant under the sun, every bare inch of you glistening in sweat.”
- - -
“It is implied that there is a high possibility that these references to patriarchy are a... later addition, so to speak,” Professor Balkan pointed out.
“Let's hope so, otherwise it would mean that there were woke even in the time of the Romans,” Jim added with a laugh.
But he was the only one laughing, as all eyes turned on him.
On the boys in the classroom fell a veil of fright.
The girls in the classroom looked at Jim with utter disdain, freezing him.
A female voice was also heard whispering “incel asshole,” but it was hard to tell who had spoken exactly, and, in fact, nobody cared.
Meanwhile, professor Balkan was somewhat amused by this exchange between the two sides, like a cruel naturalist who sees ants from two different nests slaughtering each other for no reason at all, and... heartily enjoying the massacre.
“I would say we can continue with the reading...”
- - -
“I cannot really believe you’re speaking of having me horribly hurt and killed! You’re, like, my family; you’ve known me since I was a baby, and now you seem so okay with having me naked and tortured and executed,” Mirta’s voice trembles, her defiant tone faltering as fear seeps in.
Carolus sighs, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “Look, lass, we are as distraught as you are… well, okay, maybe not exactly as you are, but stay sure, we care about you,” he says, attempting to ease her distress, though the grim reality hangs heavy in the air.
Lucius’s gaze softens as he meets her eyes. “You’ve been a servant in my manor for 18 years, and surely I like having you running around everywhere and hearing your bratty banters, but hey, here reality breaks in. I’ll miss you a lot when you’re just a hanging corpse, but I cannot save you from your rather… pornographic execution.”
He shakes his head with a resigned sigh. “Not without getting me into trouble, which, I confess, I won’t do for you. You’re a slave, after all, it’s so out of place for a patrician like me to risk an indictment to save a slave girl like you. Sorry I'm blunt here, but hey, it is what it is.”
Mirta bites her lip, her fists clenching as she swallows hard. “I… I understand,” she whispers, barely audible, the weight of it sinking in as her brave front finally crumbles a little.
Lucius watches her, sadness etched on his face. “So, you see, darling, you really have to suffer and die.”
Mirta’s eyes glint with a sudden spark of defiance as she lifts her chin. “Not if I can think of a way out of this deadly ordeal,” she says, a hint of hope flickering in her voice.
Carolus gives her a fond but pitying smile, patting her shoulder. “Think away, sweet girl. But remember: in three days, Scrotus Verrucosus and his bunch of good-for-nothings legionaries will be here in Lumetia, demanding your pretty bare body nailed to that cross, unless you’ve got a miracle up those short sleeves of yours. Which I doubt, alas.”
Mirta’s eyes narrow, her mind racing with the seeds of an idea, however desperate or impossible it might seem. But as Lucius and Carolus turn to leave, she bites her lip, a glint of determination sparking in her pretty eyes.
She may be bound for a cross, her flesh exposed to the harsh sun and her suffering destined to entertain the townsfolk, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t at least try to find a way out.
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PS: Professor Balkan is an old acquaintance of this forum since he appeared in my previous story "Apocalypta". This fine fellow enjoys reading strangely anachronistic execution tales in his classes, and in his pockets he always carries the amulet of Yog, the Lord of the Empty Dwellings, which he retrieved from a nameless tomb when he was but a young and inexperienced archeology student. The pendant still continues murmuring unimaginable cruelties to him... or so he thinks at least. Chances are it's all in his cultured yet wicked mind, after all.
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