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From Arcimboldo to R. Cimboldo...

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Arcimboldo said:
Probably recycling your own work is a sign of a lack of creativity... :(

EULALIA
View attachment 1318413

LAP DREAM

View attachment 1318414
Click to expand...
Now you've even immortalised me enjoying my all-time favourite Arcimboldo opus! :devil2:

Arcimboldo said:
Milia slowly recovered from her breathless exhaustion. She opened her eyes and stared at the low ceiling of the dungeon.
Her voice was shaky.
"We can no longer change anything. I try to make the best of it..."
Click to expand...
Be honest, girl, you're living through all your deepest, darkest fantasies, every moment of it brings new height of orgasmic ecstasy, more pwoerful than you'd ever dreamt possible ... and this is only the preparation!
 
I was inspired by the great arena scenes from Damian and Gabriele Knight and in addition by a gruesome detail from "The one who thought she'd get away" by @Eulalia.

lentissime.jpg

LENTISSIME

Since the opening of the games the Celtic slave girl had hung naked on the wooden post in the arena. The unbearable pain from the nails in her wrists and feet had eased a little now. So Loana's attention was more focused on the spiked block under her thighs, and the wooden cone digging so deep into her pelvis.

Again and again the suffering slave girl tried to stretch her legs, but the iron collar around her neck kept her from lifting herself far enough to get free of the obscene ramrod.

Thousands of spectators were watching her efforts with mocking and laughter.

Loana knew all this was nothing compared to what was comng... SHE was coming, Cerbera nigra - the black bitch from Tartarus! The most famous executioner of Rome would take on the job herself!

* * *

During these last few years, Loana had often been allowed to accompany her dominus to the ludi. And at every opportunity she had cheered for Cerbera. Loana had admired the impressive Nubian woman for her cruelty and resourcefulness.

Loana remembered sometimes imagining herself in the tortured victim's place, displayed naked for the pleasure of the spectators. Then she had felt a strange kind of arousal...

But she never would have thought that this fantasy could one day become a gruesome reality. And she did not know why all this had happened. Hadn't she been the favorite of her owner since he bought her on the market three years ago? Why had he handed her over to the public games? Without any prior warning or explanation...?

* * *

Cerbera held up a wooden sign with an inscription for the audience to see. LENTISSIME, 'Very, very slowly'.
Then she nailed the sign to the spiked saddle between Loana's legs.

The assistant set fire to the small pile of brushwood at the base of the wooden post.

Then the two women began their work.

* * *

"You still look so beautiful, my dear! Despite all our efforts, I feel so attracted to you. I'd love to stroke you and caress your delicate body all over!"

Cerbera laughed out loud, her white teeth flashing in the sunlight. "But we don't want to singe ourselves on the fire!"

She poured water from an earthenware jug onto the burning pile to put out the flames.

"Don't worry! We've got enough firewood to re-start it later."

Her assistant made up a mixture of coarse salt and vinegar.

Cerbera took her time rubbing the hellish paste into Loana's tortured skin. No spot of her body was left untouched.
Loana screamed like a wounded animal.

* * *

"Dear audience, I guess we should take a break. I would like to greet a special guest, it's Marcus Cornelius Tullius. He is the former owner of this beautiful slave girl. I don't know why he gave away such a valuable property. But he did so for the pleasure and entertainment of yourselves and mine. We are very grateful!"

The audience applauded.

"But, out of respect, we should allow him to reconsider his decision!"

She looked up to the box of honor.

"Honorable Marcus Cornelius Tullius, you shall decide the fate of this former slave girl of yours.
Thumb up means, she has suffered enough, take her from the post and release her.
Thumb down means, go on, and finish the job.
Please, your Honor, make your decision!"

* * *

Loana's mind was clouded with pain, but she watched her former master in the box of honor.
Marcus Cornelius Tullius stretched out his right arm... and turned his thumb up!
For a moment, Loana thought her heart would stop beating.
He had saved her! He still loved her!
Loana's vision was blurred by tears of happiness.

But now she noticed something she had previously overlooked.

In the box of honor there was a woman sitting on the master's right. She was very young and of exquisite beauty. Her dress was the traditional tunica of a slave, but her earrings, necklace and bracelets were made of gold.
The slave smiled at her master, leaned over and kissed his cheek.
Then she grabbed his outstretched arm. With minimal effort, her delicate hand twisted his forearm until the thumb was pointing down.
She released his arm - but the master's hand stayed in place.
Thumb down.
And there was a gleam of triumph in the young woman's eyes.

Loana's cry of desperation and disappointment was drowned out by the frenetic applause of the audience.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Arcimboldo said:
I was inspired by the great arena scenes from Damian and Gabriele Knight and in addition by a gruesome detail from "The one who thought she'd get away" by @Eulalia.

View attachment 1347475

LENTISSIME

Since the opening of the games the Celtic slave girl had hung nude on the wooden post in the arena. The unbearable pain from the nails in her wrists and feet had eased a little now. Loana's attention was now more focused on the spiked block under her thighs and to the wooden cone digging so deep into her pelvis.
Again and again she tried to stretch her legs, but the iron collar around her neck kept her from lifting herself far enough to get rid of the obscene spiggot.
Thousands of spectators watched her efforts with mocking and laughter.
Loana knew all this was nothing compared to what would come... SHE would come: Cerbera nigra - the black bitch from Tartarus. The most famous executioner of Rome would take on the job herself!

* * *

The last years Loana had often been allowed to accompany her dominus to the ludi. And at every opportunity she had cheered for Cerbera. Loana had admired the impressive Nubian woman for her cruelty and resourcefulness.
Loana remembered sometimes putting herself in the tortured victims, displayed nude for the pleasure of the spectators. Then she had felt a strange kind of arousal... But she never would have thought that this fantasy could one day become a gruesome reality. And she did not know why all this had happened. Hadn't she been the favorite of her owner since he had bought her on the market three years ago? Why had he handed her over to the public games? Without any prior notice or explanation...?

* * *

Cerbera held up a wooden sign with an inscription for the audience to see. LENTISSIME - very, very slowly. Then she nailed the sign to the spiked seat beetween Loana's legs.
The assistant set fire to the small pile of brushwood at the base of the wooden post.
Then the two women began their work.

* * *

"You look still so beautiful, my dear! Despite all our efforts... I feel so attracted. I would like to stroke and caress your delicate body all over."
Cerbera laughed out loud, her white teeth flashing in the sunlight. "But we don't want to singe ourselves on the fire!"
She poured water from an earthenware jug onto the burning pile to put out the flames. "Don't worry! We have got enough firewood to refill later."
Her assistant made up a mixture of coarse salt and vinegar.
Cerbera took her time rubbing the hellish paste into Loana's tortured skin. No spot of her body was left out.
Loana screamed like a wounded animal.

* * *

"Dear audience, I guess we should take a break. I would like to greet a special guest, it's Marcus Cornelius Tullius. He is the former owner of this beautiful slave girl. I don't know why he gave away such a valuable property. But he did so for the pleasure and entertainment of yours and mine. We are very thankful!"
The audience applauded.
"But out of respect, we should allow him to reconsider his decision!"
She looked up to the box of honor.
"Honorable Marcus Cornelius Tullius, you shall decide the fate of this former slave girl of yours.
Thumb up means: She has suffered enough, take her from the wood and release her.
Thumb down means: Go on and finish the job.
Please make your decision!"

* * *

Loana's mind was clouded with pain, but she watched her former master in the box of honor.
Marcus Cornelius Tullius streched out his right arm... and thumbed it up.
Loana thought her heart would stop beating for a moment.
He had saved her! He still loved her!
Loana's view was blurred by tears of happiness.
Nevertheless, she now noticed something that she had previously overlooked.

In the box of honor there was a woman sitting on the master's right. She was very young and of exquisite beauty. Her dress was the traditional tunica of a slave, but her earrings, necklace and bracelets were made of gold.
The slave smiled at her master, leaned over and kissed his cheek.
Then she grabbed his outstreched arm. Her delicate hand effortlessly twisted his forearm until the thumb was pointing down.
She released his arm, but the master's hand stayed in place.
Thumb down.
And there was a triumphant twinkle in the girl's eyes.

Loana's cry of desperation and disappointment was drowned out by the frenetic applause of the audience.
Click to expand...
That's another great scene, and a mini-classic short story too - definitely one for the next Cruxers' Digest, @Madiosi !
And thanks for another feather in my cap - to be mentioned in the company of Damian and Gabriele by the great Arcimboldo is awesome!
https://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/the-one-who-thought-shed-get-away.2663/#post-69361
 
Arcimboldo said:
I was inspired by the great arena scenes from Damian and Gabriele Knight and in addition by a gruesome detail from "The one who thought she'd get away" by @Eulalia.

View attachment 1347475

LENTISSIME

Since the opening of the games the Celtic slave girl had hung nude on the wooden post in the arena. The unbearable pain from the nails in her wrists and feet had eased a little now. Loana's attention was now more focused on the spiked block under her thighs and to the wooden cone digging so deep into her pelvis.
Again and again she tried to stretch her legs, but the iron collar around her neck kept her from lifting herself far enough to get rid of the obscene spiggot.
Thousands of spectators watched her efforts with mocking and laughter.
Loana knew all this was nothing compared to what would come... SHE would come: Cerbera nigra - the black bitch from Tartarus. The most famous executioner of Rome would take on the job herself!

* * *
Click to expand...
A magnificent piece of work and wonderfully cruel. Thank you for sharing.
 
2023 do it yourself.jpg

DO IT YOURSELF

They had shown her the wooden plate to read the inscription before they nailed the sign to the post above her head: AD IGNEM - to the fire!

Now they were spreading dry hay around the base of the wooden structure. In addition a pile of brushwood in the center, just around the polished stake that impaled her genitals.
How long would they keep her in this obscene position? How long would the crowd watch and mock her? How long would they wait before they lit the hay?

She suspected that the hay would burn up quickly. The flames would singe the skin of her feet and legs. But it was not enough to consume her body.
But by the time the hay had burned, the fire would have spread to the pile of brushwood.
And the flames would find their way up along the wooden phallus...

The young officer on duty did not do what was expected.
He approached with a branch that had been lit at one end, but he did not throw it into the hay.
Instead, he pressed the branch into the convict's left hand and closed her fingers around the wood.
"Be careful! Hold it tight! Do not drop it!"

With her forearms nailed to the transom she could hardly move her hands. She could not throw the burning piece of wood far enough beyond the layer of hay.
She would have to hold it until the fire reached her fingertips...
 
Arcimboldo said:
View attachment 1354490

DO IT YOURSELF

They had shown her the wooden plate to read the inscription before they nailed the sign to the post above her head: AD IGNEM - to the fire!

Now they were spreading dry hay around the base of the wooden structure. In addition a pile of brushwood in the center, just around the polished stake that impaled her genitals.
How long would they keep her in this obscene position? How long would the crowd watch and mock her? How long would they wait before they lit the hay?

She suspected that the hay would burn up quickly. The flames would singe the skin of her feet and legs. But it was not enough to consume her body.
But by the time the hay had burned, the fire would have spread to the pile of brushwood.
And the flames would find their way up along the wooden phallus...

The young officer on duty did not do what was expected.
He approached with a branch that had been lit at one end, but he did not throw it into the hay.
Instead, he pressed the branch into the convict's left hand and closed her fingers around the wood.
"Be careful! Hold it tight! Do not drop it!"

With her forearms nailed to the transom she could hardly move her hands. She could not throw the burning piece of wood far enough beyond the layer of hay.
She would have to hold it until the fire reached her fingertips...
Click to expand...

Diabolical! So simply diabolical! ❤️
 
Arcimboldo said:
View attachment 1354490

DO IT YOURSELF

They had shown her the wooden plate to read the inscription before they nailed the sign to the post above her head: AD IGNEM - to the fire!

Now they were spreading dry hay around the base of the wooden structure. In addition a pile of brushwood in the center, just around the polished stake that impaled her genitals.
How long would they keep her in this obscene position? How long would the crowd watch and mock her? How long would they wait before they lit the hay?

She suspected that the hay would burn up quickly. The flames would singe the skin of her feet and legs. But it was not enough to consume her body.
But by the time the hay had burned, the fire would have spread to the pile of brushwood.
And the flames would find their way up along the wooden phallus...

The young officer on duty did not do what was expected.
He approached with a branch that had been lit at one end, but he did not throw it into the hay.
Instead, he pressed the branch into the convict's left hand and closed her fingers around the wood.
"Be careful! Hold it tight! Do not drop it!"

With her forearms nailed to the transom she could hardly move her hands. She could not throw the burning piece of wood far enough beyond the layer of hay.
She would have to hold it until the fire reached her fingertips...
Click to expand...
A well executed image (and girl). Simply beautiful and very cruel. Thank you for sharing.
 
Now the question I pose is simple. Would you drop it or hold it? Would you drop it immediately and get it over with, and end your suffering quicker, even if it was in a painful slow burning agony, or would you hold out until every muscle in your arm ached and you had no choice but to drop it to your demise, holding out until the end in some vain hope of rescue or out of a desire to stall death as long as possible?
 
I was imagining her screaming as she fought to keep hold of it even when the flesh was burning from her fingers, muscles of her fingers then contacting like fried bacon in the pan to hold the stick in place until it burnt out. But nailed irrevocably to her cross the pain of thirst, hunger, the unforgiving nails which were now a part of her and from her stretched chest as her legs tired and weakened so she hung just by her arms would make her regret her desire to live a few hours longer and wish she had immediately dropped the burning piece of wood and let the flames caress her useless body.
 
Arcimboldo said:
View attachment 1354490

DO IT YOURSELF

They had shown her the wooden plate to read the inscription before they nailed the sign to the post above her head: AD IGNEM - to the fire!

Now they were spreading dry hay around the base of the wooden structure. In addition a pile of brushwood in the center, just around the polished stake that impaled her genitals.
How long would they keep her in this obscene position? How long would the crowd watch and mock her? How long would they wait before they lit the hay?

She suspected that the hay would burn up quickly. The flames would singe the skin of her feet and legs. But it was not enough to consume her body.
But by the time the hay had burned, the fire would have spread to the pile of brushwood.
And the flames would find their way up along the wooden phallus...

The young officer on duty did not do what was expected.
He approached with a branch that had been lit at one end, but he did not throw it into the hay.
Instead, he pressed the branch into the convict's left hand and closed her fingers around the wood.
"Be careful! Hold it tight! Do not drop it!"

With her forearms nailed to the transom she could hardly move her hands. She could not throw the burning piece of wood far enough beyond the layer of hay.
She would have to hold it until the fire reached her fingertips...
Click to expand...
Great idea! I love this.
 
COLOSSEUM

2005 colosseum.jpg

While marching her victim through the Colosseum, Vulnia enjoyed the cheers of the crowd. She looked at the naked girl behind her. The blonde had already suffered several degrees of harsh torture. Her body was covered with whip marks and burns. Vulnia was satisfied with her job. But it was not yet finished at all. A horrible branding on the victim's forehead indicated the next stage of torment. Vulnia thought about the schedule of agony she had designed for the next hours to give the people a thrilling spectacle...

But Vulnia knew it was just a matter of time: One day the mob would not be satisfied by her ingenious cruelties any more. She was a star, a former gladiatrix, but nevertheless she was still a slave girl. In the near future the spectators would call for brand new entertainment. Then she, Vulnia, would be made the victim, and someone else would march her through the hot sand of the arena. Vulnia remembered all the elaborate tortures she had invented within the last months to fulfill the lust of the crowd, and she knew they would apply all of these methods one by one to her beautiful body.

But Vulnia was absolutely determined: Even then she would make it a great show...
 
VULNIA

2023 vulnia.jpg

As always, we were greeted with frenetic applause in the arena.
"VULNIA! VULNIA!"
In dozens of circus games I had entertained the Roman plebeians by inventive theater acting.
And they loved me for that.
As always, I appeared topless.
My toga shouldn't get dirty at work, I used to say. The crowd always laughed at these words.
I enjoyed the audience's gaze on my bare breasts.

* * *

This time the task was to punish three Celtic hostages for their tribes' rebellion.
Today again it was me who initiated the program.
Then I stepped back a little and let my girls continue the work.
Both my assistants and their victims looked so fine and I enjoyed watching.
The Celts were brave and strong. That was good. This promised a long and exciting spectacle.

Three condemned women on three wooden posts...

But why had that X-cross been put up there?

* * *

While Tonga was completely absorbed in her work on the second hostage, Atasha waited for her turn. She glanced at me. It was as if she was looking for silent agreement in my eyes.
I felt my girls knew more than I did. Had they been briefed by the organizing committee?
The billboards around town had advertised a sensational show - the highlight of my legendary career in the arena.
But as beautiful as the three Celtic noble women were, I realized that their public torment was not the highlight. The crowd was hungry for a new climax.

I was the climax myself.

* * *

When their job on the Celts was done... would my two girls attack me, overpower me and drag me to that cross?
Perhaps the spectators would love a real cat fight...
But I preferred to remain in control of the situation as long as I could.

I bent down, untied the straps, and kicked my sandals off my feet. I unbuckled my belt and took it off too. Finally, the leather loincloth.
Completely naked, I got up and lifted my chin.
I looked at Tonga and Atasha. They were standing there somewhat helplessly.
Then I walked slowly and upright through the sand towards the cross.

* * *

For the first time, I would not design the dramaturgy myself.
But I was confident that I had taught my girls everything.
They would demonstrate their artistry on their teacher's body.
Vulnia, the Bitch from Hell herself would be nailed to a torture device and writhe in unbearable agony.

And she would be able to enjoy the audience's applause one last time.
"VULNIA! VULNIA!"
 
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