Totally amazing and brilliant descriptive writing.......the pain, terror, fear of what comes next for you is everything. How much more can you....or anyone else.....take?Next part. This is nice, I think...
Kisses kisses kisses
G.
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GOLGOTHA
Part eigth
by Gabriella Sivilla
Minutes pass by. I don't know how many, maybe they are just a few, but they seem like an eternity to me. An eternity of torment.
"BITCH!!!"
"WHORE!!!"
"GET OFF THE CROSS, HERE THERE ARE SO MANY COCKS ARE READY FOR YOU!"
I hang from the cross, all weight on the nails in my wrists. It's like they want to tear my arms away from my body.
Every now and then I try to move, leaning on the nails in my feet to give some relief to my tortured arms but, when I do, the nails rubbing on nerves and broken bones send waves of pain blasting throughout my thighs and my back. From time to time, my wrists and hands start throbbing, sending flashes of agony in my head, and blood comes out, my red warm blood.
My blood continues to flow, drop by drop, from my wrists, under my arms, from my feet. Blood, mixed with the soldiers sperm, marks my inner right thigh.
I gasp.
Breathing is hard, it feels like someone is pressing a cloth in front of my mouth and nose. The pain in the arms is excruciating.
I open my mouth and inhale with full force, but little air enters.
I sweat. I feel the sweat beading my forehead and a droplet falls to the ground.
"MEEEE... RRRCCCCCCCCCCYYYYYHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I scream in despair, the excruciating pain blurring my vision again. My body writhes in agony, I can't help it. My hips swing to the side and cause a roar from the crowd, as well as a groan in my throat.
The centurion on horseback approaches me. The animal's smell enters my nostrils as he looks at me and whispers, "Good baby girl, scream like that! We've all got a hard dick for you!"
I turn my head, and that causes me another stab of pain. I am not only damned to die nailed to the cross, but to be laughed at by everyone. And it's all about sex, about calling me a whore, about talking to me about their dicks.
I gasp.
I pant again.
Air. Air.
It's like someone is squeezing my neck and, despite trying to inhale deeply, very little air enters my lungs. I shake my head. Nothing, the feeling of chocking is still there.
I moan softly. Then I scream, a stab of pain going straight to my brain from one of my feet. People appreciate, applaud, insult. Then I scream again, because the pain in my arms seems to suddenly explode, I don't know why: "AAAAHHHHH!".
I move on the cross, but I don't realize that I am moving. Small movements, my body instinctively tries to find a position where the pain is only pain and not pure, blinding, agony. The nerves impaled by the nails in my arms and feet are constantly sending me shoots of pain, and what is left of them is constantly twitching. The result is excruciating spasms, accompanied by explosions of agony filling my head. In those moments I go blind, and my entire universe is one white ball of pain: "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
I gasp.
I try to inhale, nothing, and I gasp again.
Gasp.
It's like I'm underwater, I can't breathe. aaahhh , where is the air? What are they doing to me? Nooooo , I don't want to die. Noooo . Air, give me air. Aiiiiirrrrrr . I want the air, I don't want to die of suffocation. Ahhh nah , air! Terror fills my mind. I don't want to suffocate. Terror that adds to the anguish, I know inside me that I will die on this cross, and knowing that death is near and certain is terrible. Terror. No no no no , i don't want to die! No no no no , I don't want to choke here. Noooo .
My body moves by itself. My limbs push, pull, push against the rusty and hateful nails that keep me nailed to the cross. Atrocious torments. My body is wrapped up in atrocious torments, but it keeps moving on its own, the need for air is too strong. I instinctively press hard against the nails in my feet, and it doesn't matter my impaled nerves scream their awesome howl of protest and pain right into my brain, it doesn't matter that the bones in my feet rub against the nails, it doesn't matter the gush of blood that comes out suddenly from the wounds in my flesh.
Slowly, I go up .
And it is as if someone is burning my legs with a blazing fire, while my back tortured by the whip rubs against the rough wood of the cross.
I have reached the top, legs still semi-bent, arms almost horizontal, when the air enters my lungs again, and I scream, scream with all the force I have in my lungs: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!", and my screams contain all the despair, terror and pain of being crucified. To understand that I will be torturing by myself. To understand that I can't simply hang from the cross and wait for death, but that my body will renew my atrocious torment by pressing and pulling on the hateful nails. Even more terrible, after experiencing the terror of suffocating. I scream once more, and then I drop, my legs bending suddenly. The edges of the nails rub against the little bones of my wrists, until my arms fully extend and I can't fall anymore. My arms explode in pain, and I scream again, a mad, desperate scream.
You are so kind with me @montycrusto ! I really hope that you will like the rest as well. Stay tuned!Awesome imagination and description. Powerful and intense erotic agony. I would expect nothing less from you @GabriellaSivilla
wow, nice illustration you choose! i am shaved, but it's okay: the pic really captures the agony she must be feeling! ooouuuuccccchhhh!!!
Thanks a lot. I really try to imagine what would feel like to be hoisted, nailed to a cross by rusty nails. Of course I cannot, but I try, and really love that you liked the description!
wow... you choose two really hot passages! Yes, I like them as well. And I love that you have picked them. Sometimes I write sentences, but I do not know if people like them, or not. This really helps me, and is a big encouragment for me. Thaaaaaankssssss!!! Stay tuned, you will find more in the following!!!
Have you seen? I have used some of your wonderful drawings. I hope that you approve. And I love that my prose is erotic for you, keep me telling that, it will keep me writing! And thaaaaaanks for your kind comments!!!
I am sooo glad that you liked it! And... yes.. there was people who really took that, and more. And there is more to read, still some installments to appear on this thread. Keep on reading, and posting your comments, I really love them!!!
No wonder they crucified her!!!
I like how beautifully you describe the story!! beautifully!Next part. Enjoy!!!
Kisses kisses kisses
G.
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GOLGOTHA
Part seven
by Gabriella Sivilla
I am crucified.
Nailed with long, rusty spikes to a cross.
I just hang from the nails in my wrists, like dead-weight. The shock is too much. My neck is bent. My gaze is fixed down, eyes and mouth wide open. I feel warm liquid dripping from my chin: my saliva? Someone's spit? I don't know.
Straining the muscles in my neck, with difficulty, I lift my head and look to the left. My eyes focus on the blood from the awful wound in my wrist, which has formed a crimson trickle down my lower arm. At its end, drop by drop, my blood drips down onto the dirty ground, bringing my life with it.
I do not see them, but the nails that have pierced my feet are wet with my blood, too, and the blood slowly trickles onto the toes , onto my painted nails, and then onto the ground. Behind my tender feet, the wood of the stipe is smeared with blood all around where the nail penetrates the wood.
I look again at the horrible nail piercing my wrist. It's obscene. And it's like a very hard cock penetrating my flesh and bones. I have four cocks stuck in me that are fucking me bloody.
I realize that this is crucifixion.
The screams from the crowd constantly hit me. My boobs painted red and the red circle around my pussy drive them crazy.
"SEE HOW GABRIELLA SIVILLA SUFFERS! SEE HOW SHE SUFFERS THE WRATH OF ROME! HER AGONY WILL BE LONG AND ATROCIOUS!" It's the centurion who has spoken from his horse, with his usual harsh voice.
Someone applauds, others continue to shout obscenities.
They look at me. I feel their piercing gaze on my body, my boobs, my legs, between my legs. The pain is excruciating throughout the whole body, not just in my arms and legs.
One of the soldiers approaches me, and shouts at the mob: "LOOK, WE'VE BROKE HER, THE POOR LITTLE BABY GIRL!", and with his thick dirty finger points between my thighs, at the blood mixed with the soldiers' sperm, which starts slowly trickling down, drawing a scarlet rivulet on my white skin.
Then the soldier glares at me, grabs my knees and suddenly spreads my legs: "AAAAHHHH AAAAAAAHHHH AAAAAAAHHHHH!" My scream echoes high as my feet rotates around the spikes and my bones rub against the nails driven into my feet.
"BITCH, OPEN YOUR LEGS AND SHOW WHAT WE'VE DONE TO YOU!!! YOU FUCKING BITCH !!!"
I keep moaning in pain, desperate.
"BITCH, TELL EVERYONE HOW YOU LOVED GETTING BROKEN BY OUR COCKS!!! SAY IT! SAY IT! Or I swear I'll break your legs, and I'll cut off your tits and feed them to the dogs."
I cry, then I force myself. " AAAHhh MMIII MMIIII... AAAAHHH liked making me screw... UUUAAAHHHHH iibbby bbyyyy youriii .. MMMHHH cocks aaaaaAAAHHHH ". The soldier nods, satisfied. Someone in the crowd murmurs: "What a bitch...she deserves it all, to be there." "YOU LIKE TO TAKE COCKS, GABRIELLA THE WHORE, EH?"
I raise my head. I feel my blond hair moving on my shoulders, tormented by having carried the patibulum from my crucifixion. My back presses against the rough wooden post behind me, reopening my wounds.
I look at the crowd. I'm not very high off the ground. High enough to be seen by all, the little young girl nailed these wooden stakes for the ordeal of the cross. Low enough for them to touch me, to torment me. My pussy covered in blood and cum is just above their heads. They can touch my nail-pierced feet with their hands, and wet their fingers with my warm red blood. I watch them. I see hate in their eyes. Against me ,that I have never done anything against them. I see their bloodlust. I see lust.
I turn my head to the right. Then left. Everyone yells at me. They are almost all men, of all types. Big ones, little ones, some kids. My vision in blurred, the pain puts a veil before my eyes. But I shiver at the thought of hands being laid on me. A woman puts her hand in front of her mouth at the sight of my girlish body tortured and nailed to the cross. A man whispers something in a girl's ear, looking at me, and they both laugh satisfied. She raises her fist and yells something at me, but I can't figure out what.
The pain my wrists and arms is excruciating. But it is surpassed by that in the legs. I have always been proud of my legs, long and slender. But the nails in my feet are a torment. The pain travels behind the calf, behind the leg, it seems to explode at the base of the back, as if they were skinning me alive, or slowly plunging me into boiling pitch.
I have pain all over. My back hurts, tormented by the lashes I received. I can't see it, but the metal tip of the whip has gouged my soft flesh, leaving deep marks.
I have pain in my shoulders. In my chest, my ribs and my belly, where they punched me in the courtyard. In my boobs, that they squeezed laughing at me. And between my legs, where they raped me. Pain from within.
I look up to the sky and scream in pain, a long desperate scream: "AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! aaaaaaaaaaAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH ".
The crowd cheers, and cheers.
Love the frantic and panicked train of thought narration. Love the sexual abuse that is being hurled her way too!Next part. This is nice, I think...
Kisses kisses kisses
G.
_______________________________________________________________
GOLGOTHA
Part eigth
by Gabriella Sivilla
Minutes pass by. I don't know how many, maybe they are just a few, but they seem like an eternity to me. An eternity of torment.
"BITCH!!!"
"WHORE!!!"
"GET OFF THE CROSS, HERE THERE ARE SO MANY COCKS ARE READY FOR YOU!"
I hang from the cross, all weight on the nails in my wrists. It's like they want to tear my arms away from my body.
Every now and then I try to move, leaning on the nails in my feet to give some relief to my tortured arms but, when I do, the nails rubbing on nerves and broken bones send waves of pain blasting throughout my thighs and my back. From time to time, my wrists and hands start throbbing, sending flashes of agony in my head, and blood comes out, my red warm blood.
My blood continues to flow, drop by drop, from my wrists, under my arms, from my feet. Blood, mixed with the soldiers sperm, marks my inner right thigh.
I gasp.
Breathing is hard, it feels like someone is pressing a cloth in front of my mouth and nose. The pain in the arms is excruciating.
I open my mouth and inhale with full force, but little air enters.
I sweat. I feel the sweat beading my forehead and a droplet falls to the ground.
"MEEEE... RRRCCCCCCCCCCYYYYYHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I scream in despair, the excruciating pain blurring my vision again. My body writhes in agony, I can't help it. My hips swing to the side and cause a roar from the crowd, as well as a groan in my throat.
The centurion on horseback approaches me. The animal's smell enters my nostrils as he looks at me and whispers, "Good baby girl, scream like that! We've all got a hard dick for you!"
I turn my head, and that causes me another stab of pain. I am not only damned to die nailed to the cross, but to be laughed at by everyone. And it's all about sex, about calling me a whore, about talking to me about their dicks.
I gasp.
I pant again.
Air. Air.
It's like someone is squeezing my neck and, despite trying to inhale deeply, very little air enters my lungs. I shake my head. Nothing, the feeling of chocking is still there.
I moan softly. Then I scream, a stab of pain going straight to my brain from one of my feet. People appreciate, applaud, insult. Then I scream again, because the pain in my arms seems to suddenly explode, I don't know why: "AAAAHHHHH!".
I move on the cross, but I don't realize that I am moving. Small movements, my body instinctively tries to find a position where the pain is only pain and not pure, blinding, agony. The nerves impaled by the nails in my arms and feet are constantly sending me shoots of pain, and what is left of them is constantly twitching. The result is excruciating spasms, accompanied by explosions of agony filling my head. In those moments I go blind, and my entire universe is one white ball of pain: "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
I gasp.
I try to inhale, nothing, and I gasp again.
Gasp.
It's like I'm underwater, I can't breathe. aaahhh , where is the air? What are they doing to me? Nooooo , I don't want to die. Noooo . Air, give me air. Aiiiiirrrrrr . I want the air, I don't want to die of suffocation. Ahhh nah , air! Terror fills my mind. I don't want to suffocate. Terror that adds to the anguish, I know inside me that I will die on this cross, and knowing that death is near and certain is terrible. Terror. No no no no , i don't want to die! No no no no , I don't want to choke here. Noooo .
My body moves by itself. My limbs push, pull, push against the rusty and hateful nails that keep me nailed to the cross. Atrocious torments. My body is wrapped up in atrocious torments, but it keeps moving on its own, the need for air is too strong. I instinctively press hard against the nails in my feet, and it doesn't matter my impaled nerves scream their awesome howl of protest and pain right into my brain, it doesn't matter that the bones in my feet rub against the nails, it doesn't matter the gush of blood that comes out suddenly from the wounds in my flesh.
Slowly, I go up .
And it is as if someone is burning my legs with a blazing fire, while my back tortured by the whip rubs against the rough wood of the cross.
I have reached the top, legs still semi-bent, arms almost horizontal, when the air enters my lungs again, and I scream, scream with all the force I have in my lungs: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!", and my screams contain all the despair, terror and pain of being crucified. To understand that I will be torturing by myself. To understand that I can't simply hang from the cross and wait for death, but that my body will renew my atrocious torment by pressing and pulling on the hateful nails. Even more terrible, after experiencing the terror of suffocating. I scream once more, and then I drop, my legs bending suddenly. The edges of the nails rub against the little bones of my wrists, until my arms fully extend and I can't fall anymore. My arms explode in pain, and I scream again, a mad, desperate scream.
I am happy that you like it. I think it's an important part, makes the narration more realistic, creates a touch of atmosphere..
Gabriella, The cornu is only there to help you... Quit resisting it and take the damn thing like you did all those cocks!!!
Where does he find this rubbish??
Iron rakes are pretty rare around here, mostly in the martyr section. Glad to see them coming into the more erotic crux-enthusiast space.Next part. Things get more complicated!
Kisses kisses kisses
G.
_______________________________________________________________
GOLGOTHA
Part nine
by Gabriella Sivilla
"Good, good girl!"
It's the centurion who speaks, the one with the light blue eyes. His eyes are ice cold while he looks at him, erect on the horse back, but he has cummed in his pants, and his cock is still hard. He came when he saw my lithe body pushing up, the exact moment when I reached the top, and he heard me scream. Like him, many others in the crowd have cum.
As I hang from the cross, I start panting again, my legs bent, the pain in my wrists increasing again. He grins, then turns to his soldiers. His voice is firm, and strong: "Show the baby girl the instruments of torture."
One of the soldiers immediately reply: "Yes sir", and moves to take a sack. He approaches, and takes out a wooden shaft, to which a small hideous rake is attached. A shovel is attached. He grins, and proudly shows it to me, the three rusty sharp points moving a few centimeters from my face contorted by suffering.
It is the centurion, however, who speaks. He doesn't just talk to me. He screams, instead, for everyone to hear, like when he screamed before, when he ordered to bring out the torture devices, "Baby girl, we're going to butcher you, up there."
He says it as a matter of fact, but his cruelty can be clearly heard in the tone of his voice. He gets on: "When you're more tired, and we'll have to cheer you up, first we'll have your great boobs sucked, and bitten, and twisted by some scum here who hasn't got enough of your body." He pauses, smiling, pleased at what he's going to say. "Then... then... then we'll destroy them with this. Ah yeah, we'll tear them apart well" and the soldier shakes the rake in front of me, to be sure that I see the terrible points.
"And if that's not enough, maybe we'll even pierce your WHORE boobs! Or we'll pierce your thighs. You liked to spread wide your thighs, when you got banged, huh? The cross is gonna bang you today. The cross... and and this ONE!" and one of the soldiers shows me a pointed shaft, which he has taken from the sack.
I cannot refrain from looking, and the tip is there, only an inch or two from my eyes, and the anguish and dread at what is in store for me mixes with the fear the soldier is going to bring, immediately, there and then.
A moan comes out of my mouth: "MEEERRCCY... MMMMMEEEEERRRCCCCYYYAAAAHHH!"
He laughs. A long, mocking laugh, as if there is nothing funnier. Then, he continues: "YES yes of course, we WILL have mercy. When you'll get tired of going up and torturing by yourself, and you're about to suffocate because you won't be able to raise yourself up any more ... then... we'll let you sit on your throne. On your throne, like a real WHORE, like you ARE!"
One of the soldiers takes something out of the bag, I can't see it right away. But then he shows it to me: it's my throne, as my sadistic executioner says, thirsty for blood and pain. It's obscene.
It's a thick, thick wooden dick with a metal point at the tip. At the base, large wooden balls and a horizontal piece of wood, to fix it to the cross. The soldier waves it in front of me, and I stare at him, terrified. He's the madman.
"It's to HELP you, baby girl! It will be several hours. Only when you can't take it anymore, we will shove it inside you, so you'll sit on it, and will be comfortable." He looks at me: "We'll break your ass, and you'll die like the WHORE you are! GABRIELLA SIVILLA THE WHORE!" and the crowd echoes him.
I stay there, terrified, agony exploding in my body and anguish eating away at my soul.
They laugh.
And laugh.
The soldiers look around, and make gestures to stir up the crowd. As if their thirst for blood wasn't bad enough. As if they weren't already excited enough to see a girl raped and nailed with rusty nails to a cross. Hoisted up, naked, for all to see as she writhes in pain. For all to see, the wounds tearing apart her slender body. So that they can see the cum from the soldiers, who raped her, sliding down her thighs. And the blood that, drop by drop, descends from the hideous wounds that pierce her beautiful feet.
So that they can see the terror in her eyes as they show terrible tools to her, threatening her with yet more torture.
Where does he find this rubbish??
