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hannibal's male crucifixion 3d picture and stories
- Thread starter hb21
- Start date
crassuswild
Magistrate
Excellent work
crassuswild
Magistrate
Love it
crassuswild
Magistrate
Brilliant, thanks
BigCross
Spectator
Love all the chest hair!!!
yohanicus
Guard
I like the depiction where the crucified naked men seem to salute their condemned comrades with their pointed, erect manhood.
hb21
Magistrate
other try based upon this story (but with male victim): https://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/vorenuss-new-idea-a-crucifixion-story.11064/
Attachments
BigCross
Spectator
The way his feet are nailed is intriguing!
It's well depicted, and an obvious way to do it when you are attaching the feet to the back of the stipes. Here's an example of mine from 2002
Balti
Executioner
than should be the best moment for a last fuck before they secure his strong feet to the cross
Vindex
Tribune
Magnificent! A dream come true. I can put myself in the story and feel like I'm in the place of the tortured.
hb21
Magistrate
whole story modificated with male victim:
The events of this story take place during the Gallic rebellion against Rome during the long, hot summer of 29 BC. Vorenus was a centurion in the expeditionary force sent against the tribes. Although he had some action against the Treviri, his cohort was primarily assigned to clearing ground behind the front and enforcing Roman justice if necessary. And in Gaul at that time it was necessary everywhere! We do not know whether the innovation of the crucifixion attributed to him was really Vorenus' idea. It is more likely that it was an execution team that was under his command and that he took credit for it.
We'll call it his idea because that's how history records it. His idea was to take the rudimentary Crux Simplex, a simple vertical pole to which the victim was attached, and develop it into something that killed much more slowly and painfully and did so in a more economical way than the more usual "T" shaped cross.
The account we have probably doesn't relate the first time this technique was used to torture a rebel because the execution team seems too sure of their job for the first time. The victim was a young Gaul in his twenties named Bedriacus. It is almost certain that he was not an active rebel, but the son of a merchant or notable. He had the misfortune of being caught fleeing to a region where all apprehended Gauls were to be executed.
The first time Vorenus saw Bedraacus was when he was brought by soldiers to his tent. To a Gaul, he was a handsome young man with a beard and blond hair cut short and a slender, well-defined figure. It could have served as a model for the statue of a god. He had already been stripped of his clothes and stood totally naked in front of him, his wrists tightly bound behind his back. His hairy chest had well-shaped pectorals and you could see his abs quite muscular despite his thinness. Her pubic hair was very bushy and largely concealed her balls and penis retracted by fear and humiliation. He would have made a good pet slave if that had been his fate. Vorenus thought he was 20-25 years old. He ordered the soldiers to hold him securely by the arms, then walked over and grabbed him by the throat with one hand while he felt the young Gaul's seductive body with the other, lingering on his nipples before kneading his balls and pulling his penis. Bedriacus was obviously ashamed to death at having his in the hands of another man, especially since his young body reacted quickly to this disgusting touch. His penis lengthened and hardened, getting erect. He tried in vain to escape from the hands of Vorenus, but the soldiers held him firmly. He began to speak hastily in a barbarous language which none of them understood. Probably something about the fact that he wasn't an enemy of Rome. Vorenus let go of him and nodded to a soldier to silence him. The soldier hit him hard in the lower abdomen. He collapsed to his knees, curled up. It didn't matter why he was there. He would be crucified today on the stipes erected near their camp.
Vorenus barked the order to fetch an execution squad. They might as well do it now while the cohort wasn't too busy. And his men could enjoy the Flogging entertainment
The execution team led Bedriacus to a tree with broad, strong branches. As he turned his back to her, Vorenus admired the well-defined muscles of the back, the buttocks covered in blonde hair, and the thighs and long legs. A thick rope was tied to his bound wrists, the free end thrown around a branch, and he was shaken and swayed suspended in the air. He let out a cry as his arms suddenly supported all of his weight. Her ankles were attached to adjacent tree trunks, giving perfect access to her inner thighs and crotch. Bedriacus was about 1.80m tall. His feet hung just inches above the ground, giving the men whipping him an ideal position.
Vorenus hoped that they would not exaggerate the flogging. The last thing he wanted was for him to die too quickly from blood loss and tissue damage. But he knew it was best not to say anything because it was his most experienced execution team. They would do a good job.
Two soldiers stood on either side of Bedriacus, each with the traditional five-braid whip with fragments of bone and metal woven into it to tear the skin. Then they began, each in turn to whip Bedriacus' back, buttocks, and upper legs. His back turned red very quickly. He screamed and struggled with each blow. Then it was over. Vorenus counted only 20 eyelashes. That's better than overdoing it. His buttocks and back were torn enough to give him extra torment on the cross, but blood loss was acceptable. He would agonize long before death would deliver him. Bedriacus let out a grunt of horror as he was untied and fell to the ground, unable to stand.
Crucifixion
News quickly spread through the camp that a crucifixion was in progress. And anyone who hadn't heard it from a comrade would have known it from the cacophony of whippings and screams of pain from Bedriacus. In a short time, Bedriacus had as an audience all the soldiers of the camp who were not on patrol or guard on the wooden ramparts of the camp. First, the chief executioner made Bedriacus stand up and then he grabbed his, his large hand encircling his scrotum and member. He began to walk and pull him by his genitals to the cross. The poor young man begged and cried, trying in vain to get the soldier to let go, but the flogging had made him too weak. The crosses were just outside the wooded area of their encampment. With this situation, he and his victim could be easily seen by any passing Gallic reconnaissance group. Moreover, there would be no shade to comfort the naked young Gaul when he hangs from the cross during this hot summer. There was room enough for a dozen crosses, for one was seldom enough.
Bedriacus saw the cross for the first time. It didn't look like what he expected. It was just a pole about 6 feet high, about 6 inches wide. There was no crossbar to secure his arms. But about halfway up there was this thin vertical piece of wood hammered into a slot in the post. Protruding like a strange nose from the face of the pole. On its upper edge, it had blunt teeth cut into it. What was it used for? The executioner made a sign to his aides, who seized Bedriacus and placed him with his back to the stake. They tied his wrists behind the vertical wooden pole. Then they lifted him high enough so that his crotch rested on the "nose." It was only about 2 inches wide, Bedriacus immediately felt a sharp pain in his perineum as he was forced to sit on it. His teeth cut through his crotch, crushing his testicles. All of his weight now rested on a thin piece of wood between his legs. This was what the Romans called the "sedile".
The smell of suddenly assaulted Bedriacus' nose. He saw one of the firing squad members bring a bucket that reeked of piss and shit. He reached into the bucket and pulled out a long iron spike that was smeared with and stared at him. No, they couldn't be about to nail him with that?
Vorenus admired the coordinated work of his men. Another member of the squad crouched underneath Bedriacus and pushed his left foot up to press him against the side of the post, holding him there with a vice grip he couldn't resist. With great care, another soldier placed a small wooden puck on Bedriacus' heel bone, positioned the tip of the nail in the center of the puck, and then struck the head of the nail with a hammer. It took four hard blows to puncture Bedriacus' heel and pin it to the wood of the post. With each blow, Bedriacus howled like a rabid animal. Then they moved to his right foot and repeated the procedure by nailing him to the other side of the post. Bedriacus had never experienced such pain. It popped out of his heels and up his legs to his crotch.
From Bedriacus' anguished reaction, Vorenus noticed that his squad had managed to nail her through his sural nerves. Staining the spikes with feces would mean that his wounds would quickly become infected and hurt him even more. At this point, if he had wanted to relieve the growing pain of the sedile painfully compressing his rectum and genitals, he would have been unable to lift himself by pushing on his feet. It was impossible, especially since his wrists were unnecessarily tied behind his back behind the post.
Vorenus knew that the next stage of the crucifixion was the trickiest. It was a matter of driving a nail into both of Bedriacus' wrists at the back of the post. The slightest mistake by the executioner and an artery could be severed, which would greatly shorten the duration of the victim's ordeal – a Roman denial of justice that would shame everyone involved!
The chief executioner stood on a stool behind the cross. He took Bedriacus' bound wrists and slowly lifted them up the pole until they could no longer move. This was, of course, extremely painful for Bedriacus, as his shoulders were forced into a rigorous strappado. The movement also forced him to lean forward and press his balls even harder on the serrated wood of the sedile. When the executioner had lifted the wrists as far as he could, he held them in place by tying them to the post with another length of rope. Pausing for a moment, he retrieved an extra long spike of poop from the bucket. He loosened the rope that bound his wrists together, adjusting the relative position of his wrists to ensure a clean passage of the tip through the median nerve of both limbs. Slipping a wooden log over the point, he carefully positioned the nail and struck six times accompanied by the howls of poor Bedriacus. He stopped before the head of the nail reached the skin to make sure that the tortured youth's wrists could rotate around the axis of the nail. Finally, he cut the ropes so that only the tip kept his wrists crossed at the cross. Bedriacus could now pull on his arms and push on his ankles. This movement allowed him to get some relief from his crotch at the cost of excruciating agony in his ankles and wrists.
The events of this story take place during the Gallic rebellion against Rome during the long, hot summer of 29 BC. Vorenus was a centurion in the expeditionary force sent against the tribes. Although he had some action against the Treviri, his cohort was primarily assigned to clearing ground behind the front and enforcing Roman justice if necessary. And in Gaul at that time it was necessary everywhere! We do not know whether the innovation of the crucifixion attributed to him was really Vorenus' idea. It is more likely that it was an execution team that was under his command and that he took credit for it.
We'll call it his idea because that's how history records it. His idea was to take the rudimentary Crux Simplex, a simple vertical pole to which the victim was attached, and develop it into something that killed much more slowly and painfully and did so in a more economical way than the more usual "T" shaped cross.
The account we have probably doesn't relate the first time this technique was used to torture a rebel because the execution team seems too sure of their job for the first time. The victim was a young Gaul in his twenties named Bedriacus. It is almost certain that he was not an active rebel, but the son of a merchant or notable. He had the misfortune of being caught fleeing to a region where all apprehended Gauls were to be executed.
The first time Vorenus saw Bedraacus was when he was brought by soldiers to his tent. To a Gaul, he was a handsome young man with a beard and blond hair cut short and a slender, well-defined figure. It could have served as a model for the statue of a god. He had already been stripped of his clothes and stood totally naked in front of him, his wrists tightly bound behind his back. His hairy chest had well-shaped pectorals and you could see his abs quite muscular despite his thinness. Her pubic hair was very bushy and largely concealed her balls and penis retracted by fear and humiliation. He would have made a good pet slave if that had been his fate. Vorenus thought he was 20-25 years old. He ordered the soldiers to hold him securely by the arms, then walked over and grabbed him by the throat with one hand while he felt the young Gaul's seductive body with the other, lingering on his nipples before kneading his balls and pulling his penis. Bedriacus was obviously ashamed to death at having his in the hands of another man, especially since his young body reacted quickly to this disgusting touch. His penis lengthened and hardened, getting erect. He tried in vain to escape from the hands of Vorenus, but the soldiers held him firmly. He began to speak hastily in a barbarous language which none of them understood. Probably something about the fact that he wasn't an enemy of Rome. Vorenus let go of him and nodded to a soldier to silence him. The soldier hit him hard in the lower abdomen. He collapsed to his knees, curled up. It didn't matter why he was there. He would be crucified today on the stipes erected near their camp.
Vorenus barked the order to fetch an execution squad. They might as well do it now while the cohort wasn't too busy. And his men could enjoy the Flogging entertainment
The execution team led Bedriacus to a tree with broad, strong branches. As he turned his back to her, Vorenus admired the well-defined muscles of the back, the buttocks covered in blonde hair, and the thighs and long legs. A thick rope was tied to his bound wrists, the free end thrown around a branch, and he was shaken and swayed suspended in the air. He let out a cry as his arms suddenly supported all of his weight. Her ankles were attached to adjacent tree trunks, giving perfect access to her inner thighs and crotch. Bedriacus was about 1.80m tall. His feet hung just inches above the ground, giving the men whipping him an ideal position.
Vorenus hoped that they would not exaggerate the flogging. The last thing he wanted was for him to die too quickly from blood loss and tissue damage. But he knew it was best not to say anything because it was his most experienced execution team. They would do a good job.
Two soldiers stood on either side of Bedriacus, each with the traditional five-braid whip with fragments of bone and metal woven into it to tear the skin. Then they began, each in turn to whip Bedriacus' back, buttocks, and upper legs. His back turned red very quickly. He screamed and struggled with each blow. Then it was over. Vorenus counted only 20 eyelashes. That's better than overdoing it. His buttocks and back were torn enough to give him extra torment on the cross, but blood loss was acceptable. He would agonize long before death would deliver him. Bedriacus let out a grunt of horror as he was untied and fell to the ground, unable to stand.
Crucifixion
News quickly spread through the camp that a crucifixion was in progress. And anyone who hadn't heard it from a comrade would have known it from the cacophony of whippings and screams of pain from Bedriacus. In a short time, Bedriacus had as an audience all the soldiers of the camp who were not on patrol or guard on the wooden ramparts of the camp. First, the chief executioner made Bedriacus stand up and then he grabbed his, his large hand encircling his scrotum and member. He began to walk and pull him by his genitals to the cross. The poor young man begged and cried, trying in vain to get the soldier to let go, but the flogging had made him too weak. The crosses were just outside the wooded area of their encampment. With this situation, he and his victim could be easily seen by any passing Gallic reconnaissance group. Moreover, there would be no shade to comfort the naked young Gaul when he hangs from the cross during this hot summer. There was room enough for a dozen crosses, for one was seldom enough.
Bedriacus saw the cross for the first time. It didn't look like what he expected. It was just a pole about 6 feet high, about 6 inches wide. There was no crossbar to secure his arms. But about halfway up there was this thin vertical piece of wood hammered into a slot in the post. Protruding like a strange nose from the face of the pole. On its upper edge, it had blunt teeth cut into it. What was it used for? The executioner made a sign to his aides, who seized Bedriacus and placed him with his back to the stake. They tied his wrists behind the vertical wooden pole. Then they lifted him high enough so that his crotch rested on the "nose." It was only about 2 inches wide, Bedriacus immediately felt a sharp pain in his perineum as he was forced to sit on it. His teeth cut through his crotch, crushing his testicles. All of his weight now rested on a thin piece of wood between his legs. This was what the Romans called the "sedile".
The smell of suddenly assaulted Bedriacus' nose. He saw one of the firing squad members bring a bucket that reeked of piss and shit. He reached into the bucket and pulled out a long iron spike that was smeared with and stared at him. No, they couldn't be about to nail him with that?
Vorenus admired the coordinated work of his men. Another member of the squad crouched underneath Bedriacus and pushed his left foot up to press him against the side of the post, holding him there with a vice grip he couldn't resist. With great care, another soldier placed a small wooden puck on Bedriacus' heel bone, positioned the tip of the nail in the center of the puck, and then struck the head of the nail with a hammer. It took four hard blows to puncture Bedriacus' heel and pin it to the wood of the post. With each blow, Bedriacus howled like a rabid animal. Then they moved to his right foot and repeated the procedure by nailing him to the other side of the post. Bedriacus had never experienced such pain. It popped out of his heels and up his legs to his crotch.
From Bedriacus' anguished reaction, Vorenus noticed that his squad had managed to nail her through his sural nerves. Staining the spikes with feces would mean that his wounds would quickly become infected and hurt him even more. At this point, if he had wanted to relieve the growing pain of the sedile painfully compressing his rectum and genitals, he would have been unable to lift himself by pushing on his feet. It was impossible, especially since his wrists were unnecessarily tied behind his back behind the post.
Vorenus knew that the next stage of the crucifixion was the trickiest. It was a matter of driving a nail into both of Bedriacus' wrists at the back of the post. The slightest mistake by the executioner and an artery could be severed, which would greatly shorten the duration of the victim's ordeal – a Roman denial of justice that would shame everyone involved!
The chief executioner stood on a stool behind the cross. He took Bedriacus' bound wrists and slowly lifted them up the pole until they could no longer move. This was, of course, extremely painful for Bedriacus, as his shoulders were forced into a rigorous strappado. The movement also forced him to lean forward and press his balls even harder on the serrated wood of the sedile. When the executioner had lifted the wrists as far as he could, he held them in place by tying them to the post with another length of rope. Pausing for a moment, he retrieved an extra long spike of poop from the bucket. He loosened the rope that bound his wrists together, adjusting the relative position of his wrists to ensure a clean passage of the tip through the median nerve of both limbs. Slipping a wooden log over the point, he carefully positioned the nail and struck six times accompanied by the howls of poor Bedriacus. He stopped before the head of the nail reached the skin to make sure that the tortured youth's wrists could rotate around the axis of the nail. Finally, he cut the ropes so that only the tip kept his wrists crossed at the cross. Bedriacus could now pull on his arms and push on his ankles. This movement allowed him to get some relief from his crotch at the cost of excruciating agony in his ankles and wrists.
hb21
Magistrate
Bedriacus on the cross
It was done. Bedriacus was now crucified. His crossed wrists were hoisted up and nailed into position so far down his back that they almost reached the level of his shoulder blades, making it impossible to breathe completely and completely agonizing to do so. Desperately gasping for air, Bedriacus pushed on his nailed feet; As he did so, he intensified the pain that was running up his arms and into his chest and the pain that was going up his legs. But it also allowed him to lessen the torment of the sedile who was pressing his balls. Temporarily... Just enough time to take a few breaths of air. Then he let himself fall back, crushing his crotch against the sedile again. After a long time to recover, tortured by the sedile and pressed by his discomfort to breathe in the lower position, he is forced to repeat the cycle and use his nailed feet and nailed crossed wrists together to get up for a brief moment.
All Roman firing squads have specialties that they like to do to their victims, to give them a personal touch. Vorenus' squad was no different. For example, nailing the scrotum of male victims to sedile. For the young man, they first chose to insert thin spines into his nipples, piercing the areola. But it didn' t seem to make much difference to his already intense suffering.
Then a soldier grabbed him by the throat, forcing him to turn his head and look at him while he hilariously grabbed his member and began to masturbate him. The poor young man began to cry in pain and shame but his penis began to lengthen. Then the soldier pulled on his foreskin, stretching it to the max, and nailed it to the top of the sedile.
Every time Bedriacus pushed with his feet to breathe, he felt extreme pain radiating from his penis. Moreover, when he performed his almost involuntary rhythmic dance on the cross, Bedriacus rubbed his back, which had been exposed by his scourging. There was no position to take for which he did not suffer extremely. He could only choose between competing sufferings. He tried not to breathe to exhale quickly, but it didn't work. His treacherous body forced him to suffer torment in order to breathe. He couldn't stop her. With the body leaning forward, he can see his beautiful tortured body, now bloody and covered in sweat. Blood drips from her thorn-pierced nipples and trickles down her hairy chest. He sees the nails sticking out of his heels, his balls swollen and painful, and his penis stretched with the foreskin attached to the sedile by a very thin nail.
You might think this was the end of the story, but Bedriacus has just begun his journey to death. It will take several days for him to die. He is surrounded by vigorous young Roman soldiers who are eagerly waiting to take part in the show. They have already seen young barbarians crucified and they have amused themselves by tormenting them in every way imaginable. This is not a breach of discipline. Vorenus expects his men to attack Bedriacus. It's part of the punishment. Rome expects this.
On the first day,
Bedriacus had been on the cross for 3 hours. The sun was high and it was very hot. He was panting and his fair skin was burning. He noticed a young Roman soldier standing in front of him. His eyes were on the same level as his. Then he had to push on his nailed feet to breathe and the worst pain he had ever felt climbed up his legs to his crotch. He was holding a cup. He said something he didn't understand. Did he want something to drink? Yes, he wanted something to drink. He nodded vigorously. He raised the cup to his lips. He drank. It was hot. It was urine. But he drank it anyway. He laughed and said something obscene to another soldier. He walked up to her face, still smiling, and spat into her mouth. He barely noticed the saliva as a new pain he hadn't felt before radiated from his studded wrists, around his bent arms, and into his chest: a cramp. He screamed, then sobbed.
He then felt the soldier's hand press his testicles against the sedile and began to scream at the top of his lungs. Smiling, the soldier proceeded to massage his penis with one hand and force him to look at him with the other, holding him firmly by the throat. His member reacted to the massage and began to lengthen before stumbling painfully against the nail piercing his foreskin. Bedriacus, never had he suffered so much in his life, never felt so humiliated: he was at the mercy of his tormentors. A young man in great shape before his flogging, he couldn't help but get an erection despite the pain.
So much so that under the pressure, he felt his foreskin tear and his bloody penis shoot straight out. He screamed louder but the soldier continued to masturbate him until he let go of his seed during long spasms splashing the soldier's hand with a mixture of and blood. Satisfied, the soldier wiped himself on the breast of a sobbing Bedriacus, sobbing with shame and pain, he walked away, not without gratifying him with a final slap on his still erect bloody tail.
By late afternoon, it was even hotter. Bedriacus sweated profusely and this attracted insects that sought to drink his sweat. He shook his head to keep them away from his eyes, but the pain this movement stimulated in his crossed wrists nailed behind him was too great. It was better to tolerate them. Other Romans would return to the camp after finishing their patrols and, of course, they would come to peek in and mock the young barbarian nailed naked to his stake. Many of them tortured him, twisting his nipples but especially attacking his genitals. From time to time, a soldier would approach her with a cup of liquid. Sometimes it was water; Often, it was their urine. It was disgusting, but Bedriacus didn't care anymore and drank it anyway.
Vorenus watched lazily as his men mocked the crucified young man. This was the true horror of the crucifixion. It wasn't just the pain, thirst, and endless hunger, it was the audience constantly mocking and abusing the tortured young Gaul. Vorenus had seen hundreds of crucifixions, perhaps more than a thousand in the last 10 years. And more than 30 years with its variation of the simple pole without patibulum. Bedriacus was strong and fit. It could last three or four days unless they finished it off sooner. But he was not going to grant him clemency unless the order to decamp came from his superiors; And even if that happened, they could still leave him alive, suffering alone.
Just then, Vorenus caught sight of Cormack the Gaul entering the camp. He belonged to a Gallic tribe that had remained loyal to Rome, and he had been very useful to Vorenus in gathering intelligence.
"Do you see that naked man on the cross over there? We caught him this morning in an area where he shouldn't have been. He might have some useful information. I'd like you to ask him.
They approached Bedriacus, who was doing his rhythmic dance of the cross. Up and down, her buttocks and lacerated lower back scraped along the vertical pole. At the end of his ascending dance, he caught his breath and moaned for about 20 seconds. Then he awkwardly descended, shivering with pain, to repeat the dance move a few minutes later. And he would spend the rest of his miserable life doing this dance until he was too exhausted to do it. Then he would die if his infected wounds didn't kill him first. Vorenus was not dismayed. He was proud to have devised such an effective way of giving death with slow but intense torture to Rome's worst enemies.
Cormack had to try a few dialects before he found one that Bedriacus seemed to understand. He didn't get much out of him. He repeated that his village had been burned down, that his prominent father of the village had been killed in front of him, and that he was fleeing. He said he wasn't a spy. Vorenus was inclined to believe him. It didn't matter. The main purpose of the crucifixion was political; as a means of instilling terror in the hearts of a subjugated people. It didn't matter whether a particular victim was guilty or not. And the crucifixion of an attractive young man was always good for the morale of the troops.
"Cormack, translate this for me"
Voranus spoke to Bedriacus on the cross. You've been nailed down for a few hours, man. I bet you'd last at least three days. I never lose such bets. The pain and despair will only get worse. Your wounds will become infected. You will develop sweaty and raging fevers. But you're young and strong, so none of this will kill you quickly. I notice that the bugs are already bothering you on this hot day. I bet it will be warmer tomorrow. We will spread honey in and around your private parts and in your eyes. It will attract insects, especially wasps. If you think I don't have mercy for you, I don't. You die for the glory of Rome
" Cormack, don't bother translating an answer. As
he walked away, Voranus barked a command to Justinius: "Put honey on the balls, anus, nipples, and eyes of the Gaul. Don't skimp on quantity," and then he added with a laugh, "Tell the men that if they want to torture him, let them use the handle of a spear or they might get stung."
The constant struggle to try to breathe didn't mean he was immune to the other pains and humiliations, they added to each other. In the evening, a soldier had smeared his genitals with honey, massaging his penis for a long time, but this time he was unable to get him to get an erection. He had inserted some into her anus as well. Honey was spread on her pierced nipples. He put so much honey on his eyes that he had trouble seeing. During the cool night, it had itched a lot and he thought he could feel ants running through his private parts. As the sun rose and the sun appeared, the biting insects arrived. As the day wore on, his cock, testicles, and anus burned from the stings. He gulped down any drink the soldiers offered him, even if it was often their piss. Despite the dehydration, he felt a desperate need to pee, but only a few drops passed painfully. He felt like he was pissing acid. Unfortunately, that morning, his anus unleashed an almost constant stream of liquefied excrement that covered his legs and the sedile he was forced to step over. When the flow finally stopped, it was replaced by humiliating farts that amused the soldiers a lot.
Throughout the day, soldiers brought him bowls of honey and milk to eat. It was pleasant to eat even though his throat was infected and it became difficult to swallow. But, like all the kindnesses shown to him by the soldiers, they were only intended to lengthen and increase his sufferings on the cross. The concoction eaten on a hungry stomach caused terrible flatulence and a new flood of diarrhea that now generously covered his legs and feet. Bedriacus tried to tilt his hips so that at least some of the offending material would miss his legs, but the pain was just too much when he tried. The only energy he had left would be devoted to the dance of the cross that would allow him to breathe. He wanted to die so badly, but not enough for his body to ignore his lungs' demand for air.
The wasps arrived in the hottest part of the afternoon, a swarming mass covering his sex and eyes, feasting on the sweet honey and repeatedly stinging the young man under all that honey. Bedriacus went blind that afternoon. The only senses he had left were devoted to the treatment of pain.
In the evening, Bedriacus heard but did not see the soldiers who were preparing to leave the camp. Throughout the night there were barking orders, the sound of horses being prepared and carts marching. As the noises subsided towards dawn, he was given several cups of the sweetest and cleanest water to drink. He drank and drank until he couldn't drink anymore. If he had understood Latin, he would have realized that the soldier was joking with his comrade that it would allow the young man to survive at least one more day after they left
. By mid-morning, the human hubbub of a Roman military camp had been replaced by the quiet sounds of the forest, and Bedriacus knew, knew with a terrible heart-rending certainty: that he was alone. They had shown him no mercy before leaving, but had left him to die alone. The cruelty of the thing made the young man scream.
Later that day, Bedriacus began to shiver uncontrollably. The festering wounds caused by the tips of his wrists and ankles made him feverish. Despite the fever, Bedriacus had enough strength to continue the crux dance by pushing on his studded ankles; and enough energy to endure the agony in his studded wrists, twisted behind his back, to take a few breaths of air to keep him alive.
His throat was now so swollen and sore that even if a soldier had been there to offer him water, he would not have been able to drink it. It was now a struggle between dehydration, suffocation, or gangrenous wounds to see what would kill him first. No matter what killed him, Bedriacus won Vorenus' bet for him. It was nearly two more days before Bedriacus died alone on the cross, at the site of an abandoned Roman camp. Too bad there's no one to say he won the bet for him.
It was done. Bedriacus was now crucified. His crossed wrists were hoisted up and nailed into position so far down his back that they almost reached the level of his shoulder blades, making it impossible to breathe completely and completely agonizing to do so. Desperately gasping for air, Bedriacus pushed on his nailed feet; As he did so, he intensified the pain that was running up his arms and into his chest and the pain that was going up his legs. But it also allowed him to lessen the torment of the sedile who was pressing his balls. Temporarily... Just enough time to take a few breaths of air. Then he let himself fall back, crushing his crotch against the sedile again. After a long time to recover, tortured by the sedile and pressed by his discomfort to breathe in the lower position, he is forced to repeat the cycle and use his nailed feet and nailed crossed wrists together to get up for a brief moment.
All Roman firing squads have specialties that they like to do to their victims, to give them a personal touch. Vorenus' squad was no different. For example, nailing the scrotum of male victims to sedile. For the young man, they first chose to insert thin spines into his nipples, piercing the areola. But it didn' t seem to make much difference to his already intense suffering.
Then a soldier grabbed him by the throat, forcing him to turn his head and look at him while he hilariously grabbed his member and began to masturbate him. The poor young man began to cry in pain and shame but his penis began to lengthen. Then the soldier pulled on his foreskin, stretching it to the max, and nailed it to the top of the sedile.
Every time Bedriacus pushed with his feet to breathe, he felt extreme pain radiating from his penis. Moreover, when he performed his almost involuntary rhythmic dance on the cross, Bedriacus rubbed his back, which had been exposed by his scourging. There was no position to take for which he did not suffer extremely. He could only choose between competing sufferings. He tried not to breathe to exhale quickly, but it didn't work. His treacherous body forced him to suffer torment in order to breathe. He couldn't stop her. With the body leaning forward, he can see his beautiful tortured body, now bloody and covered in sweat. Blood drips from her thorn-pierced nipples and trickles down her hairy chest. He sees the nails sticking out of his heels, his balls swollen and painful, and his penis stretched with the foreskin attached to the sedile by a very thin nail.
You might think this was the end of the story, but Bedriacus has just begun his journey to death. It will take several days for him to die. He is surrounded by vigorous young Roman soldiers who are eagerly waiting to take part in the show. They have already seen young barbarians crucified and they have amused themselves by tormenting them in every way imaginable. This is not a breach of discipline. Vorenus expects his men to attack Bedriacus. It's part of the punishment. Rome expects this.
On the first day,
Bedriacus had been on the cross for 3 hours. The sun was high and it was very hot. He was panting and his fair skin was burning. He noticed a young Roman soldier standing in front of him. His eyes were on the same level as his. Then he had to push on his nailed feet to breathe and the worst pain he had ever felt climbed up his legs to his crotch. He was holding a cup. He said something he didn't understand. Did he want something to drink? Yes, he wanted something to drink. He nodded vigorously. He raised the cup to his lips. He drank. It was hot. It was urine. But he drank it anyway. He laughed and said something obscene to another soldier. He walked up to her face, still smiling, and spat into her mouth. He barely noticed the saliva as a new pain he hadn't felt before radiated from his studded wrists, around his bent arms, and into his chest: a cramp. He screamed, then sobbed.
He then felt the soldier's hand press his testicles against the sedile and began to scream at the top of his lungs. Smiling, the soldier proceeded to massage his penis with one hand and force him to look at him with the other, holding him firmly by the throat. His member reacted to the massage and began to lengthen before stumbling painfully against the nail piercing his foreskin. Bedriacus, never had he suffered so much in his life, never felt so humiliated: he was at the mercy of his tormentors. A young man in great shape before his flogging, he couldn't help but get an erection despite the pain.
So much so that under the pressure, he felt his foreskin tear and his bloody penis shoot straight out. He screamed louder but the soldier continued to masturbate him until he let go of his seed during long spasms splashing the soldier's hand with a mixture of and blood. Satisfied, the soldier wiped himself on the breast of a sobbing Bedriacus, sobbing with shame and pain, he walked away, not without gratifying him with a final slap on his still erect bloody tail.
By late afternoon, it was even hotter. Bedriacus sweated profusely and this attracted insects that sought to drink his sweat. He shook his head to keep them away from his eyes, but the pain this movement stimulated in his crossed wrists nailed behind him was too great. It was better to tolerate them. Other Romans would return to the camp after finishing their patrols and, of course, they would come to peek in and mock the young barbarian nailed naked to his stake. Many of them tortured him, twisting his nipples but especially attacking his genitals. From time to time, a soldier would approach her with a cup of liquid. Sometimes it was water; Often, it was their urine. It was disgusting, but Bedriacus didn't care anymore and drank it anyway.
Vorenus watched lazily as his men mocked the crucified young man. This was the true horror of the crucifixion. It wasn't just the pain, thirst, and endless hunger, it was the audience constantly mocking and abusing the tortured young Gaul. Vorenus had seen hundreds of crucifixions, perhaps more than a thousand in the last 10 years. And more than 30 years with its variation of the simple pole without patibulum. Bedriacus was strong and fit. It could last three or four days unless they finished it off sooner. But he was not going to grant him clemency unless the order to decamp came from his superiors; And even if that happened, they could still leave him alive, suffering alone.
Just then, Vorenus caught sight of Cormack the Gaul entering the camp. He belonged to a Gallic tribe that had remained loyal to Rome, and he had been very useful to Vorenus in gathering intelligence.
"Do you see that naked man on the cross over there? We caught him this morning in an area where he shouldn't have been. He might have some useful information. I'd like you to ask him.
They approached Bedriacus, who was doing his rhythmic dance of the cross. Up and down, her buttocks and lacerated lower back scraped along the vertical pole. At the end of his ascending dance, he caught his breath and moaned for about 20 seconds. Then he awkwardly descended, shivering with pain, to repeat the dance move a few minutes later. And he would spend the rest of his miserable life doing this dance until he was too exhausted to do it. Then he would die if his infected wounds didn't kill him first. Vorenus was not dismayed. He was proud to have devised such an effective way of giving death with slow but intense torture to Rome's worst enemies.
Cormack had to try a few dialects before he found one that Bedriacus seemed to understand. He didn't get much out of him. He repeated that his village had been burned down, that his prominent father of the village had been killed in front of him, and that he was fleeing. He said he wasn't a spy. Vorenus was inclined to believe him. It didn't matter. The main purpose of the crucifixion was political; as a means of instilling terror in the hearts of a subjugated people. It didn't matter whether a particular victim was guilty or not. And the crucifixion of an attractive young man was always good for the morale of the troops.
"Cormack, translate this for me"
Voranus spoke to Bedriacus on the cross. You've been nailed down for a few hours, man. I bet you'd last at least three days. I never lose such bets. The pain and despair will only get worse. Your wounds will become infected. You will develop sweaty and raging fevers. But you're young and strong, so none of this will kill you quickly. I notice that the bugs are already bothering you on this hot day. I bet it will be warmer tomorrow. We will spread honey in and around your private parts and in your eyes. It will attract insects, especially wasps. If you think I don't have mercy for you, I don't. You die for the glory of Rome
" Cormack, don't bother translating an answer. As
he walked away, Voranus barked a command to Justinius: "Put honey on the balls, anus, nipples, and eyes of the Gaul. Don't skimp on quantity," and then he added with a laugh, "Tell the men that if they want to torture him, let them use the handle of a spear or they might get stung."
The constant struggle to try to breathe didn't mean he was immune to the other pains and humiliations, they added to each other. In the evening, a soldier had smeared his genitals with honey, massaging his penis for a long time, but this time he was unable to get him to get an erection. He had inserted some into her anus as well. Honey was spread on her pierced nipples. He put so much honey on his eyes that he had trouble seeing. During the cool night, it had itched a lot and he thought he could feel ants running through his private parts. As the sun rose and the sun appeared, the biting insects arrived. As the day wore on, his cock, testicles, and anus burned from the stings. He gulped down any drink the soldiers offered him, even if it was often their piss. Despite the dehydration, he felt a desperate need to pee, but only a few drops passed painfully. He felt like he was pissing acid. Unfortunately, that morning, his anus unleashed an almost constant stream of liquefied excrement that covered his legs and the sedile he was forced to step over. When the flow finally stopped, it was replaced by humiliating farts that amused the soldiers a lot.
Throughout the day, soldiers brought him bowls of honey and milk to eat. It was pleasant to eat even though his throat was infected and it became difficult to swallow. But, like all the kindnesses shown to him by the soldiers, they were only intended to lengthen and increase his sufferings on the cross. The concoction eaten on a hungry stomach caused terrible flatulence and a new flood of diarrhea that now generously covered his legs and feet. Bedriacus tried to tilt his hips so that at least some of the offending material would miss his legs, but the pain was just too much when he tried. The only energy he had left would be devoted to the dance of the cross that would allow him to breathe. He wanted to die so badly, but not enough for his body to ignore his lungs' demand for air.
The wasps arrived in the hottest part of the afternoon, a swarming mass covering his sex and eyes, feasting on the sweet honey and repeatedly stinging the young man under all that honey. Bedriacus went blind that afternoon. The only senses he had left were devoted to the treatment of pain.
In the evening, Bedriacus heard but did not see the soldiers who were preparing to leave the camp. Throughout the night there were barking orders, the sound of horses being prepared and carts marching. As the noises subsided towards dawn, he was given several cups of the sweetest and cleanest water to drink. He drank and drank until he couldn't drink anymore. If he had understood Latin, he would have realized that the soldier was joking with his comrade that it would allow the young man to survive at least one more day after they left
. By mid-morning, the human hubbub of a Roman military camp had been replaced by the quiet sounds of the forest, and Bedriacus knew, knew with a terrible heart-rending certainty: that he was alone. They had shown him no mercy before leaving, but had left him to die alone. The cruelty of the thing made the young man scream.
Later that day, Bedriacus began to shiver uncontrollably. The festering wounds caused by the tips of his wrists and ankles made him feverish. Despite the fever, Bedriacus had enough strength to continue the crux dance by pushing on his studded ankles; and enough energy to endure the agony in his studded wrists, twisted behind his back, to take a few breaths of air to keep him alive.
His throat was now so swollen and sore that even if a soldier had been there to offer him water, he would not have been able to drink it. It was now a struggle between dehydration, suffocation, or gangrenous wounds to see what would kill him first. No matter what killed him, Bedriacus won Vorenus' bet for him. It was nearly two more days before Bedriacus died alone on the cross, at the site of an abandoned Roman camp. Too bad there's no one to say he won the bet for him.
