I am sorry, Marcella, but, as I always say : "crucifixion is a social event". An ideal opportunity for networking.
Didn't you enjoy being there too, after all, the times when you still had both feet on the ground?
I'm so glad I was able to bring all of you together like this.
From my elevated perch I can look down and see all sorts of human activity going on. I see a couple of men shaking hands as though concluding some sort of financial transaction (probably a slave sale). Oh, I'm so happy for them. They both seem to have benefited from the deal. Hey, you two, I didn't get a "thank you". Well, you are welcome, assholes! You might not have met had you not attended my crucifixion.
I see a young man and woman in an embrace. Earlier they had arrived separately; now they are together. The girl seemed shy, almost not wanting to look up at me. I could tell she was nervous, yet somehow drawn to this horrible place. Why? Does she want to look at a crucified girl? Well, here I am you little cunt! Take a good look. The boy was standing on the outside of the spectators when he arrived. When he finally got up the nerve to get close to me I could see he was blushing. Why? You never seen a pussy before, you little prick? Well, you have a good look at mine, don't you? My legs are spread apart, can't close them. I'm humiliated; at least you are a little shamed. And my tits. I have a great pair, don't I? Yeah, I can see your eyes going up and down from my tits to my pussy. Why don't you look me in the face asshole? No, that would be too personal, wouldn't it? Oh gods! What's that I see? An erection? This little shit got all excited looking at me nailed to a cross! He saw me staring down at him and blushed again. He began to retreat to the back of the spectators when he bumped into the shy girl. He mumbled an apology and she smiled at him. Now they're at the back of the spectators taking and holding hands. She's giggling at something he said. I see them walk away together. They seem very attracted to each other. So fucking glad for them! They'll probably marry and raise a bunch of kids. Be very happy together. I always wanted a family, lots of kids, a good husband. I'll never have that. My crucifixion brought these two together. You're welcome you two. Very fucking welcome! I hope all your kids are retards!
While I'm groaning in agony on my cross, pushing and pulling against the nails, trying to find a moment of release from overwhelming physical torment, I see old friends meeting. Two women who haven't seen each other in years hugging each other close, tears in their eyes. What brought them here? Well, me. My crucifixion brought them to this place. They probably just wandered over from the road as they were going about their business, curious about the young woman nailed to a cross. So glad I was able to help old friends get back together. . . where are my friends? . . . . no one is here for me . . . I'm an outcast now . . . since my trial . . . and condemned to die on the cross . . .
So many people. Laughing, shouting, having a good time. I hear deals being made, promises made. Do they even see me hanging here? So nearby. In such horrible agony. When I groan loud or move on the cross, their eyes glance up and some cheer and compliment my breasts, nipples, and pussy. Then they look away and go about their business. The business going on because they met at my crucifixion, by chance or on purpose.
The executioner in charge of my crucifixion is standing with a young man--his apprentice, perhaps? They're looking up at me. He's pointing towards my nailed wrists and feet. The young guy is nodding his head, as though he's understanding what he's hearing. No doubt he's being taught some of the finer points of nailing a woman to a cross. So glad I'm helping with your education, whoever the fuck you are.
Are my rapists here? They men who fucked me while my wrists were being nailed. Two of them--no, wait, it was three. (Hard to remember how many cocks have violated you while feeling the searing agony of nails being pounded through your flesh.) Yeah, there they are, at the back of the crowd. Looking up at me, laughing and making obscene gestures. How many times will they tell this story, I wonder. Of the great piece of ass they had, as she was being crucified. The whores with them seem impressed. Hope the whores give you a disease, and your dicks fall off . . . the dicks you stuck into my virginal body . . .
So much activity around my cross: laughing, shouting, drinking, deals being made, money transferred, friends gathering. I see and hear a group of old soldiers telling war stories. A couple of them were part of the execution squad that crucified me. The others were providing security. (Obviously not trying to keep me safe!). They hadn't seen each other in a long time. Vendors all over the place, selling their wares, making a daily wage. Like a small forum or market place. All because of me. All because I'm a pretty young girl crucified. They even look up at me sometimes. Some have pity on their faces, some are clearly aroused. They cheer when I pee and howl when I pull myself off the cornu up my ass and shit in front of them. Well fuck them all! I not doing it on purpose! It what happens to a crucified girl.
Carpenters and ironmongers vying for business. Good place for that . . . at a crucifixion. Brings the right people together.
And then the perverts. Guys masturbating with their hands under their tunics. A few even have their cocks out! Ugh!!! And the whores! Even some of them exposing their tits and pussies to me (Why?), rubbing themselves and their clients while watching me hang, naked and exposed as though I'm putting on a show for them. So much money exchanging hands. You're all fucking welcome!
It's later in the day, when the crowd thins out, I'm too exhausted to push up much, yet I know I have hours to go. A few bored guards keep me watered and poke me with sharp sticks in my armpits and crotch and my breasts. The crucified must suffer as long as possible, and stay conscious the entire time. So glad my suffering keeps them employed.
As the hot day grinds to a close I see a man approach my cross. He has a young girl with him--probably his daughter--holding her tightly by the wrist. She's dressed too garishly for one her age. And has too much makeup on. He points up at me, telling the girl to take a close look. At first she doesn't . . .she's defying him. He forces her to look at me. She's angry at being here, I can see that. He tells her this is what happens to girls who are not virtuous in life, who have the wrong friends, who make the wrong choices. He tells her they get crucified, get put to death for their crimes. Is he telling her that she'll wind up like me if she doesn't change her ways? Probably. Trying to scare the shit out of her. Wait! I'm no criminal. I'm only 19 years old, and was a virgin before they raped me. I admit I trusted the wrong man and did something stupid, and took the fall for it, but I never was a bad person. He's calling me a whore! I was never! He drags her away. She looks at me over the shoulder with emotionless eyes. Hope my crucifixion makes you a better person, you little bitch. Yet . . . you'll probably wind up here some day . . .
Really well explained Marcella.
What a shocking and arousing perspective we get from you. One can actually understand, that the crucified often were going insane. When you are hanging like that, it's a desaster for you, but for the spectators it's very amusing.
Pretty sure they will give you good advise and say laughing:
"Stand up and breath, you gotta breath girl. Don't worry about your dangling boobs as we do. Inhale, raise your tits, tighten your muscles, don't let yourself down. Oh cramps are twisting your body, you should drink a little more, otherwise your bones will eventually be dislocated."
As a spectator I'd comment:
"Are the nails placed orderly? I can see that you are checking your body every once in a while. You don't have to be disapointed, so far everything is still in the right place. But damn, why did you tear off all your clothes? That's got to be very embarrassing."
What a great spectacle. If you start to defend yourself it's even better. I mean just think about it. There is this girl hanging naked in front of the spectators and is screaming at the crowd, insulting the spectators. Great.
I have to admit. I got to love such behaviour
.
So glad I'm able to provide such wonderful entertainment. And I want to thank the executioners for doing such a wonderful job. I'm sure I'll be alive for hours, even a day or more.
, but in an actual crucifixion there's no doubt a fair amount of writhing going on. She'd be in constant motion which is quite expressive early in her crucifixion, but, due to muscular exhaustion, must quickly decrease after some time (an hour, maybe?). Then she hangs more from her arms for much longer periods, enduring the most intractable agony out of sheer exhaustion. Even slight adjustments to relieve the most severe muscle cramping in her shoulders and thighs would spike her agony to incredible levels as her raw flesh moves against the nails. Eventually she only moves her body up or to the sides to better fill her lungs as hanging from her arms makes breathing increasingly difficult. She cannot deny her body's need for oxygen. She cannot allow herself to just hang and suffocate. Her body takes over and forces her to move, despite the additional agony it causes, to merely breathe.
But perhaps you are looking at my boobs too as they bobble on my heaving chest. They are soft and full, yes? See, my nipples are getting hard now. Not sure why, but you like that, right? You can't really see my pussy--poor boy! (So sorry.) I'm humiliated that spectators standing in front of me can see it, but I wish you could. After all, we are crucified together. Yet, you must like what you see because I see your cock is gaining erection as you look at me! 
She's pretty, I must admit . . .
