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How Long is a Minute?

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KingofLiquidSwordz

KingofLiquidSwordz

Assistant executioner
Here's a short story inspired by reading through @Lucas Soranus 's post about how long a victim would try to last after being crucified.

---

*One hour,* she promised herself. *Hold back your tears for one hour. Don't give them what they want. Show them your strength. Keep your head high*

She took a deep breath and finally lifted her gaze, which she immediately regretted. Hundreds of jeering faces, all rabid for her blood. She felt so small before them. So exposed. A lump inevitably began to form in her throat, which she tried desperately to swallow down. But in a flash the tattered cloths around her chest and waist were torn away by her captors. The crowd bellowed their catcalls and cheers as they got their first glimpse of her naked body. They laughed at her when she tried to cover vulva with her hands. They chanted in unison for her demise. She broke her promise and let out a pitiful sob as tears dripped from her cheeks to her bare breasts.

*30 minutes,* she promised herself. *Just make it 30 minutes before you begin to panic and beg.*

Deep in the back of her mind she knew panic was inevitable. How could she not? But she would defy these evil men and women yanking her limbs away from her bare body lying on the course wooden beams beneath her.

The weight of a thick, square iron nail tip rested on her left wrist, which made her yelp and jump.

*No!* she willed herself. *Control. Breathe. It will all be okay. It will all be oka-*

CLINK!

The rough ropes around her arms and ankles bit into her skin and gave her friction burns. But that was the least of her pains at the moment. Her mind was a fog of fear and desperation as three more nails were wedged between her flesh and bones. Blood from her pounding heart seeped from her wounds. This was no dream, this was really happening to her! She broke her promise to herself and began to scream for mercy.

"No no! Please! Please wait wait wait!!!" she blubbered as she began to be lifted vertical. Her body pitched forward all of her weight pressed on the nails joining her to the cross. She couldn't stifle the cries for help and rescue that were erupting from her quivering lips.

"Put me down, Please please! I don't want to die!"

*10 minutes*, she promised herself. *Just hang by your wrists for 10 short minutes!*

The thick toned muscles of her legs were already cramping beneath her perspiring skin.

*Control yourself,* she commanded herself in her mind. *Control your body. Stop twitching, it's making it worse! Breathe! Just breathe!*

But the tension on her ribcage from hanging allowed only choking, gasping wimpers of air into and out of her lungs.

*I can't do it. I can't lift myself up again. My feet can't take it!*

Yet her survival instincts dictated that she must.

*10 minutes! Te- oh God I can't take it! I won't make it! 5 minutes! Just 5!*

But the throbbing pain in her outstretched arms was bearable for not a single moment longer. Her shoulders were about to tear from their sockets. Her lungs were screaming on fire for fresh breath.

She broke her promise and screamed as she flexed her legs. An eruption of hot fresh agony flowed from her pierced feet through her entire system. But the pressure was off her diaphragm and she could exhale. Fresh air rushed into her body and out. There was no mental fortitude left in her mind to count the seconds of breathing. Her feet could take the torment no longer and she dropped once more. Her breasts bounced and her knees spread wide for the crowd to gawk at her vagina. Her body was not her own anymore.

*1 minute!* she begged of herself. *Just don't think of the word for 1 minute! Don't give in!*

There was hope as long as she stayed awake. She could be rescued! Someone out there would take pity on her and bring her down!

*Don't think about it. 1 min- Just 30 seconds! Please just 30- just 10 seconds!*

But her mind was filled now only with despair. The word weighed down on her mind like a bag of stones.

Death.

She broke her promise and begged for death in her mind. Her mouth could form no more words. Her body only existed to hurt and be ogled at for their sick entertainment. She pleaded for her suffering, humiliation, and defeat to end.

*Please! End me now. Let me close my eyes and be gone!*

But time would betray her once more.

10 seconds. 30 seconds. 1 minute. 30 minutes. An hour. An evening. A day. A week.

---
 
KingofLiquidSwordz said:
Here's a short story inspired by reading through @Lucas Soranus 's post about how long a victim would try to last after being crucified.

---

*One hour,* she promised herself. *Hold back your tears for one hour. Don't give them what they want. Show them your strength. Keep your head high*

She took a deep breath and finally lifted her gaze, which she immediately regretted. Hundreds of jeering faces, all rabid for her blood. She felt so small before them. So exposed. A lump inevitably began to form in her throat, which she tried desperately to swallow down. But in a flash the tattered cloths around her chest and waist were torn away by her captors. The crowd bellowed their catcalls and cheers as they got their first glimpse of her naked body. They laughed at her when she tried to cover vulva with her hands. They chanted in unison for her demise. She broke her promise and let out a pitiful sob as tears dripped from her cheeks to her bare breasts.

*30 minutes,* she promised herself. *Just make it 30 minutes before you begin to panic and beg.*

Deep in the back of her mind she knew panic was inevitable. How could she not? But she would defy these evil men and women yanking her limbs away from her bare body lying on the course wooden beams beneath her.

The weight of a thick, square iron nail tip rested on her left wrist, which made her yelp and jump.

*No!* she willed herself. *Control. Breathe. It will all be okay. It will all be oka-*

CLINK!

The rough ropes around her arms and ankles bit into her skin and gave her friction burns. But that was the least of her pains at the moment. Her mind was a fog of fear and desperation as three more nails were wedged between her flesh and bones. Blood from her pounding heart seeped from her wounds. This was no dream, this was really happening to her! She broke her promise to herself and began to scream for mercy.

"No no! Please! Please wait wait wait!!!" she blubbered as she began to be lifted vertical. Her body pitched forward all of her weight pressed on the nails joining her to the cross. She couldn't stifle the cries for help and rescue that were erupting from her quivering lips.

"Put me down, Please please! I don't want to die!"

*10 minutes*, she promised herself. *Just hang by your wrists for 10 short minutes!*

The thick toned muscles of her legs were already cramping beneath her perspiring skin.

*Control yourself,* she commanded herself in her mind. *Control your body. Stop twitching, it's making it worse! Breathe! Just breathe!*

But the tension on her ribcage from hanging allowed only choking, gasping wimpers of air into and out of her lungs.

*I can't do it. I can't lift myself up again. My feet can't take it!*

Yet her survival instincts dictated that she must.

*10 minutes! Te- oh God I can't take it! I won't make it! 5 minutes! Just 5!*

But the throbbing pain in her outstretched arms was bearable for not a single moment longer. Her shoulders were about to tear from their sockets. Her lungs were screaming on fire for fresh breath.

She broke her promise and screamed as she flexed her legs. An eruption of hot fresh agony flowed from her pierced feet through her entire system. But the pressure was off her diaphragm and she could exhale. Fresh air rushed into her body and out. There was no mental fortitude left in her mind to count the seconds of breathing. Her feet could take the torment no longer and she dropped once more. Her breasts bounced and her knees spread wide for the crowd to gawk at her vagina. Her body was not her own anymore.

*1 minute!* she begged of herself. *Just don't think of the word for 1 minute! Don't give in!*

There was hope as long as she stayed awake. She could be rescued! Someone out there would take pity on her and bring her down!

*Don't think about it. 1 min- Just 30 seconds! Please just 30- just 10 seconds!*

But her mind was filled now only with despair. The word weighed down on her mind like a bag of stones.

Death.

She broke her promise and begged for death in her mind. Her mouth could form no more words. Her body only existed to hurt and be ogled at for their sick entertainment. She pleaded for her suffering, humiliation, and defeat to end.

*Please! End me now. Let me close my eyes and be gone!*

But time would betray her once more.

10 seconds. 30 seconds. 1 minute. 30 minutes. An hour. An evening. A day. A week.

---
Click to expand...
Well done! :)
 
Praetor said:
Wow! Excellent! Reading this made me feel like I'm the protagonist of your story!
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Yknow it’s funny, I’m most definitely a sadist more than a masochist, and I almost always put myself into the role of executioner or onlooker in roleplays. But I love writing from the victim’s perspective. All those extreme emotions of fear and humiliation are so fun and sexy to experience vicariously through writing or reading!
 
KingofLiquidSwordz said:
Yknow it’s funny, I’m most definitely a sadist more than a masochist, and I almost always put myself into the role of executioner or onlooker in roleplays. But I love writing from the victim’s perspective. All those extreme emotions of fear and humiliation are so fun and sexy to experience vicariously through writing or reading!
Click to expand...

I think I know what you mean. I'm pretty much a switch and my sadistic moments are fueled mostly by the aesthetics of the female form, but also very much by vicariously experiencing the suffering. There is something very intimate about participating in the suffering of a beautiful woman. It's almost like mental sex, lol.
 
Praetor said:
I think I know what you mean. I'm pretty much a switch and my sadistic moments are fueled mostly by the aesthetics of the female form, but also very much by vicariously experiencing the suffering. There is something very intimate about participating in the suffering of a beautiful woman. It's almost like mental sex, lol.
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What a strange thought, that if I were a woman for a day I’d want to be stripped naked in front of a crowd, violated, and nailed to a cross to die for their amusement!
 
KingofLiquidSwordz said:
What a strange thought, that if I were a woman for a day I’d want to be stripped naked in front of a crowd, violated, and nailed to a cross to die for their amusement!
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Hahaha, same! This makes me wonder if sadism is basically just mental masochism. I wonder if the people who watched crucifixions back in the Roman Empire had the same experience of vicariously "enjoying" the crucifixion of the people they looked at. I would be willing to bet they did.
 
KingofLiquidSwordz said:
Thank you!! I hope it gave you some thrills! I also hope I didn’t fall into any “men writing women” pitfalls in describing her thoughts and actions or writing her dialogue!
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That's a possible pitfall, although hardly a risk when you only describe the execution. The pirfall could arise if you start writing a more elaborate backstory from the woman's viewpoint.
 
Praetor said:
Hahaha, same! This makes me wonder if sadism is basically just mental masochism. I wonder if the people who watched crucifixions back in the Roman Empire had the same experience of vicariously "enjoying" the crucifixion of the people they looked at. I would be willing to bet they did.
Click to expand...
The way I enjoy sadism is definitely linked to enticing out that pleasure that my partner feels when I hurt them or, for all my experiences so far, describe hurting them. It’s a rush to enact that kind of power, and so sexy that someone would specifically come to me and consent to that treatment. It makes me feel strong and special, It works out some of my frustrations and self doubt. I do so love the female form in pain like you said, as a personal angle of enjoyment. The way she moves, writhes, screams, cries and squirms as I paint her skin red. Wearing down her mind with degradation and fear til she breaks (crucifixion and the threat thereof is such a lovely tool for brat taming). I think empathizing with the masochism is important and informs communication for a scene. It guides the tortures my words inflict. How devilish to turn empathy into effective torture ;)
 
mp5stab said:
This is great great look into the psychology of the crucified. Reminds me of how I feel on runs. But honestly, with running after an hour you get used to the strain. I doubt that this would be the case when nailed to the cross.
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Funny enough, I did draw on some emotions I have during workouts too! Those voices of doubt that scream to cut my goal of 12 reps down to 10 mid set as the pain and fatigue creep in. But we get to enjoy the victory of pushing ourselves that extra mile or extra rep. A woman crucified can only ever fail herself and her promises until the end
 
Loxuru said:
That's a possible pitfall, although hardly a risk when you only describe the execution. The pirfall could arise if you start writing a more elaborate backstory from the woman's viewpoint.
Click to expand...
“It was then as the handsome muscular executioner winked at her that her Titanical chest globes began to quake and ripple in a lustful fluster. She brought her slender dainty hand up to her forehead and felt so woozy she might faint right then and there, with only her supple sizable cheeks to cushion her impact”
 
KingofLiquidSwordz said:
“It was then as the handsome muscular executioner winked at her that her Titanical chest globes began to quake and ripple in a lustful fluster. She brought her slender dainty hand up to her forehead and felt so woozy she might faint right then and there, with only her supple sizable cheeks to cushion her impact”
Click to expand...
A bit overdone, that? :rolleyes:
 
Praetor said:
Hahaha, same! This makes me wonder if sadism is basically just mental masochism. I wonder if the people who watched crucifixions back in the Roman Empire had the same experience of vicariously "enjoying" the crucifixion of the people they looked at. I would be willing to bet they did.
Click to expand...
Sure they did (like watching). They didn't have TV back then.
 
KingofLiquidSwordz said:
“It was then as the handsome muscular executioner winked at her that her Titanical chest globes began to quake and ripple in a lustful fluster. She brought her slender dainty hand up to her forehead and felt so woozy she might faint right then and there, with only her supple sizable cheeks to cushion her impact”
Click to expand...
Barbaria1 said:
A bit overdone, that? :rolleyes:
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KingofLiquidSwordz said:
I learned it from reading Stephen King and watching Bryce Dallas Howard’s character in the Jurassic World movies
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The executioner's nickname was 'The Velociraptor', I presume? ;)
 
KingofLiquidSwordz said:
“It was then as the handsome muscular executioner winked at her that her Titanical chest globes began to quake and ripple in a lustful fluster. She brought her slender dainty hand up to her forehead and felt so woozy she might faint right then and there, with only her supple sizable cheeks to cushion her impact”
Click to expand...
I altered it a bit ! :icon_writing:

“It was then as the handsome muscular executioner winked at her that she made a quick thinking! If she could get this guy so far to be the father of her children, finance their education and sustain her a wealthy and easy ife, it would be now or never! Instinctively, her Titanical chest globes began to quake and ripple in a lustful fluster. In a calculated act of drama, she brought her slender dainty hand up to her forehead, pretending she felt so woozy she might faint right then and there, with only her supple sizable cheeks to cushion her impact. She immediately noticed from his looks, her trap would work! Now, it mattered to play the ‘hard-to-get’, ignoring him completely for the next days, pretending she fancied that pathetic barkeeper who thought himself a womanizer! Soon, going crazy, he would completely submit his mind to her, and only when she knew he would literally lick her feet when she would ask, she would grab him in her claws and put him under her orders! Meanwhile she had the time to discuss with her lawyer the most advantage prenup contract for her!” :dancing:
:devil:
 
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