Cruxfan23
Onlooker
Part One
It is the not too distant future. In an attempt to curb rampant street crime, crucifixion has been reintroduced as punishment for even the most minor of offences. This shameful, agonizing method of execution serves also as a warning to others, intended to deter any would-be criminals from future wrongdoing. It is not uncommon to find groups of condemned, almost always young men, stripped and beaten, nailed to crosses alongside public paths and motorways.
Just like in the old days, the spectacle of Crucifixion draws crowds of excited onlookers. And just like the old days, tormenting the helpless, dying victims is a great source of entertainment for many people.
People like my sister.
Today, a fresh group of prisoners are due to be crucified along a busy path through the local park. My sister has invited me to join in with the 'morning fun,' along with one of her friends.
They talk excitedly as we travel through the city, trading colourful anecdotes from previous experiences and discussing what they might do today. I remain quiet. Although I've attended several such executions before, I've never taken an active role in the proceedings.
Little do any of us know, in less than twenty-four hours, I will have far a far more intimate knowledge of Crucifixion than either of them.
We head into the park, passing the naked bodies of a few unfortunates who have already been nailed up. I keep my eyes fixed on the path, trying to avoid eye contact with them.
"Too bad we missed that one", my sister comments, gesturing towards one of the victims. Hes an attractive, muscular guy, covered in tattoos. A groan escapes his lips as we pass by.
We continue along the path and quickly catch up to the main group. My sister hurries us along and guides us through the crowd of chattering onlookers. I see the prisoners ahead, struggling beneath the weight of the heavy wooden crossbeams they are forced to carry, the same ones upon which they will soon be put to death. Most still have their underwear, a luxury that is unlikely to last much longer. They are being herded along the path in single file by a group of armed guards.
We head to the front of the procession, where a tall upright post is being fixed into place. The condemned watch nervously, knowing that for one of them, the journey ends here.
My sister begins to search the prisoners and quickly finds one that she likes. It's easy to see why. He's strikingly attractive, well built, barely into his twenties. Like the others, his arms have been tied to a heavy crossbeam to prevent escape. And like the others, he's been stripped of all clothing except for the dark boxers that hug his firm ass and thighs.
My sister approaches one of the guards and hands him some something. "That one is ours," she states, pointing to the boy.
The two seem to know each other, for the guard shrugs and pockets the bribe. Its all just work to him, and if he can earn a little extra cash while avoiding a few hammer swings, he isnt going to complain. He signals another guard, who separates the young man from the other prisoners and forcefully steers him towards us.
This one?
My sister nods.
The guards force the boy down onto his knees, then knock him backwards into the dirt at our feet. Exchange complete, they direct the rest of the group further along the path.
The boy lays on his back, helpless, not even struggling. He looks up at us pleadingly.
"Please," he whispers. "Don't let them hurt me. I don't want to die."
My sister kneels beside him and strokes his face. "I know, sweetie", she soothes. "Thats why we're here. But first-" she slides fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers "-I need you to prove...how much of a man you are."
The boy looks surprised. "I...I don't understand."
"I need you to cum for us, she states. "Cum for us, and we'll untie you."
It's a statement, not a question. The boy seems confused, suspicious perhaps, but already my sister is preparing to remove his boxers. She neatly cuts through the waistband with a knife, then peels away the fabric to reveal his considerable endowment within.
"Impressive." She pauses for a moment to admire the view, and I find myself doing the same.
The boy watches the blade warily.
I notice that he's kept his body hair neatly in check, although presumably for someone else's benefit, not our own. I wonder where his partner is now. Have they abandoned him, or are they simply unaware of his predicament?
My sister returns the knife to her bag and takes out a piece of fabric. It's a silk scarf, which she gently ties around the boys head like a blindfold.
"No peeking," she says seductively.
The boy remains quiet.
Finally, my sister turns to me.
"You're up."
I nod. This is my first time playing "The Game," but my role has already been explained to me. I gently take hold of the boy's cock and tenderly begin to caress it.
"That's it", my sister says encouragingly.
Already i can feel his cock responding to my affections. It grows quickly in my hand, hardening with each small movement until every inch of its respectable length is on display. As far as cocks go, it's an attractive one. I feel a twinge of regret that I won't be able to experience its full power. But at least I can give it one last performance before the end.
The boy remains quiet as I work. If he suspects that the promise of his freedom is nothing more than a cruel joke, he doesn't let it show. I am impressed by how completely he submits.
My sister and her friend silently take up their positions over the crossbeam. They grin at each other, hammer and nails ready.
After a few more minutes, I can sense that the boy is close. My sister must have sensed it too, for she prepares to give the signal.
The boy exhales. His muscles tense.
"Now!"
Both hammers swing down precisely as the boy passes the point of no return.
Clang
The sound of metallic impact rings in the air, and the boy wordlessly convulses under the simultaneous rush of excruciating pain and orgasmic release. He arches his back, and I release my grip just in time for his cock to propel an enormous load of cum high into the air.
Clang
His back arches again, and another powerful load is launched into the air. Still he doesnt make a sound.
Clang
The nails are driven home, but the boy is spent. He collapses, his body shivering.
My sister laughs. She throws the hammer aside and flops backwards to sit on the grass. "Impressive", she muses, referring to the explosive force of his orgasm. "Nearly a meter, straight up. Thats got to be a new record." She glances between the two of us, grinning widely. "Nice work, team."
Still in position over the boys wrist, her friend grins back. She opens her mouth to speak, then stops. She's noticed noticed a stray bead of cum on her arm.
"Ugh," she says, quickly wiping it away. "Males are fucking disgusting."
My sister nods. "Fucking disgusting."
She rises to her feet, already bored of the young man's torment. "Coffee?"
Down on the ground, the young man lets out a faint whimper. "....Please..."
"Oh," my sister grunts. "Right. A deal's a deal, after all." She stoops down to cut the rope from around the boys arms, a meaningless gesture now that the nails are in place.
"There."
She straghtens back up and signals a nearby guard. "We're done, she states, flipping the man a few more coins. "You can take it from here".
I look over my shoulder as we depart. The guards have already lifted the boy's crossbeam into place and are preparing to nail his ankles. I can see his muscles straining as he fights against the weight of his own body, completely helpless, twitching and jerking, little more than meat for the crowds.
I find myself wondering how long he will be able to last.
It is the not too distant future. In an attempt to curb rampant street crime, crucifixion has been reintroduced as punishment for even the most minor of offences. This shameful, agonizing method of execution serves also as a warning to others, intended to deter any would-be criminals from future wrongdoing. It is not uncommon to find groups of condemned, almost always young men, stripped and beaten, nailed to crosses alongside public paths and motorways.
Just like in the old days, the spectacle of Crucifixion draws crowds of excited onlookers. And just like the old days, tormenting the helpless, dying victims is a great source of entertainment for many people.
People like my sister.
Today, a fresh group of prisoners are due to be crucified along a busy path through the local park. My sister has invited me to join in with the 'morning fun,' along with one of her friends.
They talk excitedly as we travel through the city, trading colourful anecdotes from previous experiences and discussing what they might do today. I remain quiet. Although I've attended several such executions before, I've never taken an active role in the proceedings.
Little do any of us know, in less than twenty-four hours, I will have far a far more intimate knowledge of Crucifixion than either of them.
We head into the park, passing the naked bodies of a few unfortunates who have already been nailed up. I keep my eyes fixed on the path, trying to avoid eye contact with them.
"Too bad we missed that one", my sister comments, gesturing towards one of the victims. Hes an attractive, muscular guy, covered in tattoos. A groan escapes his lips as we pass by.
We continue along the path and quickly catch up to the main group. My sister hurries us along and guides us through the crowd of chattering onlookers. I see the prisoners ahead, struggling beneath the weight of the heavy wooden crossbeams they are forced to carry, the same ones upon which they will soon be put to death. Most still have their underwear, a luxury that is unlikely to last much longer. They are being herded along the path in single file by a group of armed guards.
We head to the front of the procession, where a tall upright post is being fixed into place. The condemned watch nervously, knowing that for one of them, the journey ends here.
My sister begins to search the prisoners and quickly finds one that she likes. It's easy to see why. He's strikingly attractive, well built, barely into his twenties. Like the others, his arms have been tied to a heavy crossbeam to prevent escape. And like the others, he's been stripped of all clothing except for the dark boxers that hug his firm ass and thighs.
My sister approaches one of the guards and hands him some something. "That one is ours," she states, pointing to the boy.
The two seem to know each other, for the guard shrugs and pockets the bribe. Its all just work to him, and if he can earn a little extra cash while avoiding a few hammer swings, he isnt going to complain. He signals another guard, who separates the young man from the other prisoners and forcefully steers him towards us.
This one?
My sister nods.
The guards force the boy down onto his knees, then knock him backwards into the dirt at our feet. Exchange complete, they direct the rest of the group further along the path.
The boy lays on his back, helpless, not even struggling. He looks up at us pleadingly.
"Please," he whispers. "Don't let them hurt me. I don't want to die."
My sister kneels beside him and strokes his face. "I know, sweetie", she soothes. "Thats why we're here. But first-" she slides fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers "-I need you to prove...how much of a man you are."
The boy looks surprised. "I...I don't understand."
"I need you to cum for us, she states. "Cum for us, and we'll untie you."
It's a statement, not a question. The boy seems confused, suspicious perhaps, but already my sister is preparing to remove his boxers. She neatly cuts through the waistband with a knife, then peels away the fabric to reveal his considerable endowment within.
"Impressive." She pauses for a moment to admire the view, and I find myself doing the same.
The boy watches the blade warily.
I notice that he's kept his body hair neatly in check, although presumably for someone else's benefit, not our own. I wonder where his partner is now. Have they abandoned him, or are they simply unaware of his predicament?
My sister returns the knife to her bag and takes out a piece of fabric. It's a silk scarf, which she gently ties around the boys head like a blindfold.
"No peeking," she says seductively.
The boy remains quiet.
Finally, my sister turns to me.
"You're up."
I nod. This is my first time playing "The Game," but my role has already been explained to me. I gently take hold of the boy's cock and tenderly begin to caress it.
"That's it", my sister says encouragingly.
Already i can feel his cock responding to my affections. It grows quickly in my hand, hardening with each small movement until every inch of its respectable length is on display. As far as cocks go, it's an attractive one. I feel a twinge of regret that I won't be able to experience its full power. But at least I can give it one last performance before the end.
The boy remains quiet as I work. If he suspects that the promise of his freedom is nothing more than a cruel joke, he doesn't let it show. I am impressed by how completely he submits.
My sister and her friend silently take up their positions over the crossbeam. They grin at each other, hammer and nails ready.
After a few more minutes, I can sense that the boy is close. My sister must have sensed it too, for she prepares to give the signal.
The boy exhales. His muscles tense.
"Now!"
Both hammers swing down precisely as the boy passes the point of no return.
Clang
The sound of metallic impact rings in the air, and the boy wordlessly convulses under the simultaneous rush of excruciating pain and orgasmic release. He arches his back, and I release my grip just in time for his cock to propel an enormous load of cum high into the air.
Clang
His back arches again, and another powerful load is launched into the air. Still he doesnt make a sound.
Clang
The nails are driven home, but the boy is spent. He collapses, his body shivering.
My sister laughs. She throws the hammer aside and flops backwards to sit on the grass. "Impressive", she muses, referring to the explosive force of his orgasm. "Nearly a meter, straight up. Thats got to be a new record." She glances between the two of us, grinning widely. "Nice work, team."
Still in position over the boys wrist, her friend grins back. She opens her mouth to speak, then stops. She's noticed noticed a stray bead of cum on her arm.
"Ugh," she says, quickly wiping it away. "Males are fucking disgusting."
My sister nods. "Fucking disgusting."
She rises to her feet, already bored of the young man's torment. "Coffee?"
Down on the ground, the young man lets out a faint whimper. "....Please..."
"Oh," my sister grunts. "Right. A deal's a deal, after all." She stoops down to cut the rope from around the boys arms, a meaningless gesture now that the nails are in place.
"There."
She straghtens back up and signals a nearby guard. "We're done, she states, flipping the man a few more coins. "You can take it from here".
I look over my shoulder as we depart. The guards have already lifted the boy's crossbeam into place and are preparing to nail his ankles. I can see his muscles straining as he fights against the weight of his own body, completely helpless, twitching and jerking, little more than meat for the crowds.
I find myself wondering how long he will be able to last.
