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Innocence lost

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Indianaguy

Onlooker

Innocence lost​

The huge mallet seemed to hang in the air above his head. He was a large man with arms nearly as large as my shapely 22 year old legs but with more hair . His arms and face were sweaty in a way that I would have found attractive if his duty was not so ominous. I could feel the point of the nail pressing against my tiny wrist but I was unable to move my arm away from the impending threat. The strong arms that could hold and protect now threatened me. His big hand held the nail while other strong men pressed my arms against the wooden beam I was stretched across.

It was my beam. The holes and dried blood on it revealed that this beam had belonged to others, but it was now my inheritance, the last thing for me in this life. I no longer even had clothes to cover me young body and hide my shame from the soilders holding me down. My nakedness, while of interest to them, was no longer on my mind.

My womanhood was revealed to all the onlookers, but the hammer and nail was a far greater concern than my violated womanhood. Cum flowed from me after the night of humilation and pain I had suffered, but that was far less than I had suffered this morning.

At some time during the multiple rapes it occured to me that my body no longer belonged to me, but my mind was trapped inside all the pain and suffering my body would be subjected to. Every hole I had was used by another person who deposited their lust in me or on me as they desired. My pain was their pleasure. Some who could no perform took their frustration out on my body by punching and hitting me leaving me bruised and bloodied. Yet even that was nothing compared to this morning or what was now about to be inflicted on me.

The only outlet my mind had found was my voice begging over and over, "please don't, I'm innocent," but my voice would either be muffled by an erect cock shoved deep my throat or ignored as I screamed while whips ripped my skin open. Even now while I squirmed against the arms holding me down I muttered my pleading chant begging this violation of my innocence to stop yet knowing that nothing would stop this monster government had created and justified by its laws.

My eyes were wide and fixed on the terror before me, and my heart raced while I continued to murmur words only my ears seemed to hear. I wanted to look away yet I could turn away from what was about to become of my life.

Suddenly, almost too fast to see, the hammer, gripped and guided by a large manly hand, fell from the sky. At once there was a metallc clank, a searing pain in my left arm as the oversize nail split my wrist open, and a deadening thud as the nail sunk into the wood.

My back arched and my head went back in a primordial scream against this introduction to new pain and terror. By instinct I pulled against my left arm trying to remove it from the assault, but I could not move it from its place.

I looked to my left arm and in terror saw the large nail which was mostly hidden by the large hand that held it now fully visible and through my wrist. Several inches of the nail was visiable above my tiny wrist and my hand was drawn together in a claw by the damage my severed nerves suffered. My breaths were more like pants as I stared at the surreal scene my body now suffered and barely noticed that the hammer had been raised and was now on the way back down.

It hit solidly on the nail again driving it through my wrist and deeper into the would. My damaged nerves reverberated in pain and I felt the shock wave travel through the wood and into my shredded back. There was no rest before the next hit as I watched the nail sink deeper and deeper with each hit.

I paid no attention to the sound of a horn as I watched the violation of this new hole in my body, yet when the head had nearly reached my wrist the hammering stopped and the arms that held me down released me. My right hand went to my damaged wrist to comfort the pain and inspect the nail that now made me one with the wood.

I was now owned by this block of a tree with my blood adding my signature to it.

Suddenly a boot kicked me between the legs with its owner's voice saying, "its our lunch time. Wait for us here."

One of the solders asked if they should finish the job first, but the one with the hammer replied, "she's not going anywhere."
 
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I like to know what happens after the lunchbreak.
 
As the sound of the hammers faded with the noon day sun, the screams of anguish and terror faded to murmurs of pain and occasional pleadings for mercy.

My own moanings were added to the chorus of suffering.

There were no pleas of innocence because innocence was lost in this horrible ordeal. Guilty and innocent all suffered the same. Flies drawn by the still crucified and rotting bodies swarmed around me taking their pleasure and fill from my wounds. Many bit me but my right arm was too occupied soothing my pinned arm to swat them away. I rolled over onto my knees and right hand, but my wooden apendage kept me weighted to the ground. I could sense the gawkers eyeing my womanhood still oozing the cum left inside me from a night of violation. I am sure that many including women were fixated on my ample and firm breasts hanging down, but my concern was the nail holding my arm. All dignity and pride had been taken from me in the last day. It was no longer my body. It belonged to whomever shoved a cock into what ever hole they desired, pulled on punched it until it was battered and bloody, or ripped it open with a whip for the entertainment of others. This body belonged to the flies laying their eggs inside its wounds. My body was becoming a brooder for maggots.

My mind was a prisoner inside it trying to free itself from its pain and agony. I pulled at the nail holding me to the beam with my right hand, but the nail was immovable. I pulled and twisted at it and tried to pull it through my wrist but the nail was too large, too tight, and too deep. I looked for something, anything, to free my arm from the beam, but all that was near were other nails and the hammer to drive them into me.

Exhausted from my efforts and abuse, I rested to catch my breath and for the first time looked at the scene around me. Some who were first in the procession were already on their crosses and locked into the dance of the crucified. One was a mature gentleman who was the lead servant for the family. He was naked and his cock was erect in response to his body trying to understand how to respond to what was happening to it.

A little further over was my friend Maria. The scene was horrifying. She was pregnant and near to giving birth when this ordeal began. The night of abuse had sent her into labor. The pack of pleasure seeking jackals who fell upon us during the night found it exciting to be balls deep in her as she went through contractions until she dilated too much to hold their cocks. I watched her give birth while the pack of animals took what ever they wanted from my body and left one more deposit filling this body that belonged to them.

There was no slap and no cry from the newborn. The life we were expecting was born into death. I heard one of the dogs announce that it was a girl, and I hid my mind back inside this body not wanting to know what this pack had in mind for this stillborn baby. To my horror, the child which we planned and talked about bringing into the world was now nailed between her legs. With every struggle for breath, Maria was joining her child in death rather than her child joining us in life.

A little further away was a middle aged but lovely woman lying on the ground. Unlike me, both of her arms were fixed to her wooden beam. Two large black birds pevked at her face and body. She kicked at them with her legs and they would flap there long wings to move a short distance back then return to stab their beaks into her helpless body looking to tear a morsel of her lose to feed their hunger. I watched in horror as one tore an eye out of her socket then fly to the top of a stipe and devoured its treat.

I had never feared birds, but I feared these monsters circling overhead.

Suddenly, a dark shadow covered me and I felt a cool breeze from wings landing near me. Two birds landed so near that I could hear their feathers rustle. Both stood looking at me with wings spread and I knew we had business together.

One suddenly jumped onto my back digging its claws into my wounds and sunk its beak into my torn flesh. I screamed in the terror and pain of being eaten. Unlike my friend I had one arm free to fight this bird. I grabbed and swatted it until it jumped to the ground. No sooner had it landed then the other bird jumped on the otherside of my back digging its claws and beak into me. I couldn't reach this one as I flailed at it and my pinned arm burned in pain from my struggling It hammered its head into my flesh and tore at me until it had a part my flesh the size of three of my fingers loose.

With my flesh, MY FLESH, in its beak it rflew to the top of a stipe likely waiting for me. I watched it consume and swallow my flesh in a few glups. There is nothing more degrading and helplesss than seeing your flesh eaten and knowing that soon you would be bird dung.

I had to free myself from this terror before my tormentors returned, but this blood stained wood held me fast in place.

I went back to working at the nail with a renewed fervor knowing that I had to escape this place of death and reclaim my broken body.

In my frustration at this stubborn nail, I suddenly realized that I had carried this beam to where it laid, so why not carry it to freedom? If I could lift it to my shoulder, then I could pack it away from this place and find help. But to do that, I would need to rotate my injured arm a quarter turn on the nail. There was a little chance and little time, but I had to do it. At first I grabbed my left elbow with my good hand and began twisting it. I could feel the nail twisting inside my arm through the radiating pain until I had to quit. Only a little progress was made.

I repositioned my body for better leverage and forced my arm around the nail a little more. My efforts drew the attention of a few gawkers who began mocking me but offered no help. With one more pull I had my arm lined up and began rolling the heavy timber onto my back. If I could get it long ways on my back I might be able to stand. Through great pain and effort I managed to get under the beam on my right shoulder and along my spine.

One of the gawkers laughed and said, "she did it!" "We want to see that again," and he kicked the beam off my back. It tore across my back and carriered me back to the ground with it. I was in worse shape than when I began with my arm back where it started but the beam and nail laying on its side. I laid in tears from the pian but more from the inhumanity. The bird consumed my flesh out of necessitty not knowing it was causing me pain. This animal caused me pain for his pleasure. After I didn't move for awhile he lost interest and left With more effort than before, I once again got under the beam, to my knees, and stood up bent over.

Perhaps I would escape the fate of my friends and family. My plan was to return home where this ordeal began.
 
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Indianaguy said:
As the sound of the hammers faded with the noon day sun, the screams of anguish and terror faded to murmers of pain and occasional pleadings for mercy. My own moanings were added to the chorus of suffering. There were no pleas of innocence because innocence was lost in this horrible ordeal. Guilty and innocent all suffered the same. Flies drawn by the still crucified and rotting bodies swarmed around me taking their pleasure and fill from my wounds. Many bit me but my right arm was to occupied soothing my pinned arm to swat them away. I rolled over onto my knees and right hand, but my wooden apendage kept me weighted to the ground. I could sense the gawkers eying my womanhood still oozing the cum left inside me from a night of violation. I am sure that many including women were fixated on my ample and firm breasts hanging down, but my concern was the nail holding my arm. All dignity and pride had been taken from me in the last day. It was no longer my body. It belonged to whomever shoved a cock into what ever hole they desired, pulled on punched it until it was battered and bloody, or ripped it open with a whip firbthe entertainment of others. This body belonged to the flies laying their eggs inside its wounds. My body was becoming a brooder for maggots. My mind was a prisoner inside it trying to free itself from its pain and agony. I pulled at the nail holding m to the beam with my right hand, but the nail was immovable. I pulled and twisted at it and tried to pull it through my wrist but the nail was too large, too tight, and too deep. I looked for something, anything, to free my arm from the beam, but all that was near were other nails and the hammer to drive them into me.
Exhausted from my efforts and abuse, I rested to catch my breath and for the first time looked at the scene around me. Some who were first in the procession were already on their crosses and locked into the dance of the crucified. One was a mature gentleman who was the lead servant for the family. He was naked and his cock was erect in response to his body trying to understand how to respond to what was happening to it. A little further over was my friend Maria. The scene was horrifying. She was pregnant and near to giving birth when this ordeal began. The night of abuse had sent her into labor. The pack of pleasure seeking jackles who fell upon us during the night found it exciting to be balls deep in her as she went through contractions until she dilated to much to hold their cocks. I watched her give birth while the pack of animals took what ever they wanted from my body and left one more deposit filling this body that belonged to them. There was no slap and no cry from the newborn. The life we were expecting was born into death. I heard one of the dogs announce that it was a girl, and I hid my mind back inside this body not wanting to know what this pack had in mind for this stillborn baby. To my horror, the child which we planned and talked about bringing into the world was now nailed between her legs. With every struggle for breath, Maria was joining her child in death rather than her child joing us in life.
A little further away was a middle aged but lovely woman lying on the ground. Unlike me, both of her arms were fixed to her wooden beam. Two large black birds pevked at her face and body. She kicked at them with her legs and they would flap there long wings to move a short distance back then return to stab their beaks into her helpless body looking to tear a morsel of her lose to feed their hunger. I watched in horror as one tore an eye out of her socket then fly to the top of a stipe and devoured its treat.
I had never feared birds, but I feared these monsters circling overhead.
Suddenly, a dark shadow covered me and I felt a cool breeze from wings landing near me. Two birds landed so near that I could hear their feathers rustle. Both stood looking at me with wings spread and I knew we had business together. One suddenly jumped onto my back digging its claws into my wounds and sunk its beak into my torn flesh. I screamed in the terror and pain of being eaten. Unlike my friend I had one arm free to fight this bird. I grabbed and swated it until it jumped to the ground. No sooner had it landed then the other bird jumped on the otherside of my back digging its claws and beak into me. I couldn't reach this one as I flailed at it and my pinned arm burned in pain from my struggling it hammered its head into my flesh and tore at me until it had a part my flesh the size of three of my fingers loose. With my flesh, MY FLESH, in its beak it rflew to the top of a stipe likely waiting for me. I watched it consume and swallow my flesh in a few glups. There is nothing more degrading and helplesss than seeing your flesh eaten and knowing that soon you would be bird dune.
I had to free myself from this terror before my tormentors returned, but this blood stained wood held me fast in place.
I went back to working at the nail with a renewed fervor knowing that I had to escape this place of death and reclaim my broken body. In my frustration at this stubborn nail, I suddenly realized that I had carried this beam to where it laid, so why not carry it to freedom? If I could lift it to my shoulder, then I could pack it away from this place and find help. But to do that, I would need to rotate my injured arm a quarter turn on the nail. There was a little chance and little time, but I had to do it. At first I grabbed my left elbow with my good hand and began twisting it. I could feel the nail twisting inside my arm through the radiating pain until I had to quit. Only a little progress was made. I repositioned my body for better leverage and forced my arm around the nail a little more. My efforts drew the attention of a few gawkers who began mocking me but offered no help. With one more pull I had my arm lined up and began rolling the heavy timber onto my back. If I could get it long ways on my back I might be able to stand. Through great pain and effort I managed to get under the beam on my right shoulder and along my spine. One of the gawkers laughed and said, "she did it!" "We want to see that again," and he kicked the beam off my back. It tore across my back and carriered me back to the ground with it. I was in worse shape than when I began with my arm back where it started but the beam and nail laying on its side. I laid in tears from the pian but more from the inhumanity. The bird consumed my flesh out of necessitty not knowing it was causing me pain. This animal caused me pain for his pleasure. After I didn't move for awhile he lost interest and left With more effort than before, I once again got under the beam, to my knees, and stood up bent over. Perhaps I would escape the fate of my friends and family. My plan was to return home where this ordeal began.
Click to expand...
Raise her up and nail the feet, please.
 
Let her escape, dragging her patibulum by her wrist, into the wilderness until she is recaptured… or until she becomes the wild woman with a wooden hand…?

Marvelous brutality!
 
I was standing. Standing on weak legs and exhausted, but standing.

The pain was massive, but not as great as the terror of being nailed to a cross as my executioners intended.

Standing, but I had to take a step.

I felt so much more lucky than my family who were already in different stages of crucifixtion. There was no hope for them, no escape, but I had hope.

My executioners were nowhere in sight.

My greatest concern was that the gawker who kicked my beam earlier would return.

I took a step. Oh God it hurts!

Then I took another, and another.

The wood rubbed against my torn back, but at least it is not laying on the hole the bird had ripped into me. How will I ever heal?

But first, I must get off this hill of death. I must get back to the safety and security of my home. At least it was safe two days ago. Now? I don't know. But where else could I go?

Home was near by way of the public street, but I wanted a more secluded way. Not that I care about being naked in public. I passed that shame long ago. I needed to evade capture.

Suddenly, before I could reach the pass, I saw the dog of a gawker who kicked the beam off me earlier. My heart was racing in fear that he would torment me again, but then I saw a greater fear in his eyes. He ran away from me in a great haste!

It was then that I noticed everyone was running away from me as if I were a leper. They didn't want to be accused of aiding a condemned person. My heart cried out that I was an innocent victim, but no one cared. The loneliness weighed heavier on me than the beam.

Hopefully home would be a better place.

I loved my life even though I was a slave, until that piece of dung, Hans, entered into our lives.

Our master Lucius was a very wealthy man but a good man. He was an official with the state and owned much real-estate and property. I was his property. He was also a Christian and followed the law and Paul's teaching concerning slaves.

In the eyes if the state slaves were his property, but in his eyes, though we were slaves, we were equal to him in his God's eyes. Therefore, we were comfortable, safe, and secure.

Except for Hans. Hans was a barbarian captured in battle. He had been severely wounded but recovered. Therefore he felt like a coward and was always angry. Master Lucius took Hans in thinking he could help him find peace in his God. But Hans only became more angry at his God.
Three days ago, Hans lashed out in a blind rage and killed master Lucius.

Hans was a true coward because after the deed he committed suicide to escape crucifixion.

The state policy when a master was murdered was that all slaves were to be crucified. That policy had been recently softened and the penalty was left to the state. Steven, the house servant, reported the death to the authorities, and a legion of soldiers soon arrived. There was much discussion between our widowed mistress and the officials. After some time all of us slaves were made to line up. There must have been over a hundred and fifty of us.

The soldiers began counting us, and every tenth slave would be pushed forward. They were decimating our numbers. I saw old and young servants and my pregnant friend Maria pushed forward.

As they came closer I tried to count ahead and realized that I was a ten.

I counted again and came to a nine.

Then, as the soldiers were near I watched them count 7, 8, 9, and 10 landed on me. Fear gripped me as I was pushed forward and led to the other unfortunate numbers. An iron collar was attached to my neck and I was chained to the person in front of me and another was chained behind me. The person in front of me was the 40 year old woman who was nailed to her beam but not lifted up yet when I escaped. I never learned her name. The first person was chained to a horse and we all followed in a solemn procession of the doomed.

None of us knew our fate, but all feared the worst.

We were all lead into a dark and damp prison cell, unchained, and left alone. Male, female , young, old were all locked in together with nothing but old straw and fear for us. Steven told us that he was near our mistress as she negotiated with the soldiers. They came to collect 10% of all the property and collect all the slaves to be held accountable for master's death. Our mistress was able to negotiate with some additional assets thay only 10% of the slaves would be taken and we would get a fair trial. So we were here awaiting for our trial in the morning.

No one came to care for us and we were looking dishevelled and worn by the time we marched to trial.

When my name was called and charges read, I started to speak in my defense. The judge sternly told me that women, especially slave women, were not allowed to speak in court. I started to protest, but was met with the blunt end of a sword to my head which stunned me.

Steven was appointed by the judge to speak on our behalf and he made an eloquent argument for our innocence and mercy from the court. The judge responded that this trial was about justice not innocence. He ruled that master Lucius was innocent but is now dead and deserved justice. The judge continued saying that the state has a right to all of his slaves, but in an act of mercy it decided that only one tenth would pay for the injustice. It was so ruled. One by one he called out our names and pronounced crucifixion or the arena for the next day as our sentence. Maria had been holding onto her ripe with baby belly, and when the judge pronounced crucifixion for her, her water broke and poured onto the floor. The stress and shock of crucifixtion had caused her to go into labor.

When the judge came to my name he said "Olivia, crucifixion, see the clerk." My knees went weak and a chill came over me, but I was quickly unchained and removed to the clerk. Parchments were placed before me and I was told to put my mark on three places. I asked what they were and was told that one was confirming that my trial and sentence was fair and just, one was my death certificate, and the other gave possession of my body to the state."

But I'm not dead!" I protested.

"My child," came the reply, "You were dead in the eyes of the state when you were sentenced to crucifixión. If you are incapable of signing, like you have lost all your fingers, then I can sign for you."

I watched as my guard started to draw his sword and I quickly marked the documents before my fingers were cut off. For the first time I felt that all rights to myself were taken from me. I had just signed documents giving my life and body to the state and stating they were just in my sentence.

"Strip," came the next command.

The shock and humilation of being forced strip in front of everyone further confirmed that the body I occupied no longer belonged to me. My hands were shackled behind my back and a lead around my neck. With a hard swat and grab to my ass, I was lead outside and through the streets. I felt the humilation of being condemned and naked in front of free and elegantly clothed people.

Several times my guard would lock my arms behind me pulling my shoulders back and forcing my tits forward to show his friends what they would see tomorrow.

When we arrived at the prison, I found things changed. Tables and benches had been brought in and there were several men drinking from the vats of alcohol placed in the room.

Maria was laid on a table and clearly in the midst of a contraction but with a cock shoved deep in her pussy. "It feels amazing!" said the brute to his friend who had his cock down her throat. "You should feel her moaning!" he said.

Steven was on his knees with a fat bald man's cock shoved in his mouth. Steven no longer looked as refined with another man's balls slapping his chin. I could see my other family members trapped in booze filled hedonistic acts, but could barely take it all in before hands grabbed at me and drug me into the melee. They passed me along to a table grabbing feels along the way until I was landed on a table with my arms still bound behind me. My flaying legs were grabbed and forced apart opening my virgin womanhood to the will of the deviants smothering me.

I had never seen a naked cock, but now one that looked too huge to enter me appeared hard and ready between my legs with the intention of opening me for the first time. He spit on his cock and my pussy, then with his large hands on my groins, his thumbs spread my pussy open while the huge tip of his cock pressed against my hole. I was incapable of stopping him and once again I was reminded that I did not control this body.

As he pushed his cock inside me shoving aside my virginity and filling me with his uninvited cock, I threw my head back in shame, sadness, and the loss of what I was saving for my husband.

That was a mistake because there was another cock waiting for my throat. As my body rocked to the pounding my pussy was taking, strong hands grabbed my throat and ordered me to open my mouth with a warning not to bite. I watched the underside of a cock enter my mouth and felt it going down my throat until I saw his balls touching my nose. Confusion entered my mind. Had I given him permission to violate my throat out of fear of the consequences? I was now making the same "gawk, gawk," sound that Maria was making on her table with a new cock down her throat.

We were just meat on the table as new men continued to arrive and take another piece of us, the condemned. I watched the 40 year old woman take a knee to the face which propelled her several feet into a corner where she landed barely concious." The brute walked over to her and kicked her face with his boot. She spit a few teeth out. Then he pulled out his cock and began pissing on her telling her that she is not worthy of his cum. She was soon the place to relieve their bladders and recieved numerous more kicks and stomps. I had no effort to feel for her as cock after cock took its pleasure in me.

After some time and cum had filled me, I saw that Maria's pussy had been abandoned. She was now to dilated and the baby's head was crowning. Her pussy pushed out her baby and liads of cum while she fought for breath around the cocks in her mouth. A brute grabbed the child from her pussy dropping it on the floor and stomped his boot on its body. "Oops I stepped on your baby girl." He said. "Here feed her," as he placed the broken body on her chest. "A dead woman gives birth to dead babies," he laughed. Maria could not even look at her broken baby as one cock after another entered her throat. I felt the latest cock in my mouth go soft, and it's owner began beating my face and blaming me for his loss of stamina. It made no sense and I knew nothing about pleasing a man, but to avoid more abuse I attempted to please every cock that entered me. It still resulted in several beatings as more and more cum was dumped inside me. Therevwas no rest and all night long we suffered whatever abuse a brute could inflict on us, but we feared then end because we knew what awaited us would be worse.
 
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I'm exhausted, I'm thirsty, and I'm in pain. I'm dripping blood, and the cum dumped into my holes by scores of brutes continues to drip fom me.

But I trudge on towards home.

Last night was nothing compared to what awaited us this morning.

As if on cue the brutes left at sunrise with only a few returning to lead us to the arena. There was no rest, no water, or no breakfast for us. All of us had been beaten, bloodied, and raped throughout the night, but now we faced our deaths.

We were marched into the lower levels on the arena which smelled of animals. We could hear they low growls and squeals of numerous wild animals which caused us panic and fear. Some of us knew that our fate was connected to these beasts, while the rest did not know what awaited us.

We were lead to a holding pen with a full view of the arena floor and were penned up as cattle awaiting slaughter.

The morning was sunny and cool, a beautiful day, and the day we began dying. On the dirt were freshly skinned pelts of sheep and goats. One of the family spied our mistress sitting in the stands near the royal box. Her stoic face gave no clue as to if she was there to offer support or be entertained.

The arena floor was set up as a forest scene with trees and other vegetation. The guards began reading off the names of those sentenced to the arena. One of the first called was a 19 year old girl, Varicella. She was a virgin, but now her body showed the same abuse all of us women suffered. Her pussy was a bright red from all the abuse it suffered and cum dripped down her thighs dripping from her pussy and anus.

A guard picked up one of the pelts, wrapped it around her, and begin sewing it shut with her arms inside. She began crying for her mother and was told that her mother would be watching from the stands so put on a good show. The skull cap of the sheep was fastened to her head, but her neck was left uncovered. When finished, the next name was called and a similar process was completed. When the last victim was sewn into his skins, the group was instructed that they would be turned out into the arena, and that they should seek shelter before the animals were released. If they survived for a time they might earn their freedom. Like cattle they were led to a holding pen, then the front gate was opened to the arena leaving them exposed .

A cheer arose from the crowd, but for a time the herd of victims stood still until it finally occurred to some that they were vulnerable to the wild animals about to be released. Slowly they began running to the make believe forest for cover. With arms sewn inside the skins, some tripped and fell and with great effort got back upon their feet. Without use of their arms it was nearly impossible to climb into a tree, but some managed. Another gate was opened and several large wolves walked into the arena with noses sniffing the air.

The first scent they caught was Varicella. The pack desended on her and as she ran. One wolf chased her to another wolf while couple others grabbed at her skin covering as she kicked at them and screamed for her mother. The wolves surrounded her were biting and tearing at at her covering and legs until the taste of her blood sent them into a frenzy. One as tall as she was jumped up biting the back of her unprotected neck, then another took her throat into its large mouth. Her eyes were wide in terror as he brought her to the ground. Her blood began pumping out of the wounds the animal inflicted to her neck, then it bit down crushing her esophagus and she was no longer breathing. We were numb with fear, but the terror of the other prey had to be much greater. As the alpha wolves tore into Varicella's body, the others turned to new victims.

When the killing had turned to feasting, a few of the condemned were still unharmed.

Then the deep growl of lions was heard. A gate was opened and several stately cats strolled onto the field with the applause of the crowd.

The lions had no interest in the dead meat, and like cats playing with mice began toying with those still living. Some had managed to climb trees, but the cats dragged them down with ease. I watched as one cat's large paw held a victim down while it bit into the victim's neck draining the blood and breath out of what appeared to be just a child. Soon all the group was dead, and their limbs were ripped off and carried elsewhere. The crowd was thrilled with the display of bodies being torn apart and eaten while we who remained huddled in fear of our part in this circus.

After a time the animals were removed from the field, and other slaves gathered the remains and carted guts and body parts away most likely to be fed to the beasts.

Unexpectedly buckets of cool fresh water appeared for us and we were not only allowed to drink but it was encouraged. For some time we could drink or bath ourselves while other activity took place on the field. We women took the opportunity to wash the dried cum off our bodies, but as we cleaned some off more oozed out of our bodies.

"There is so much," I said to the 40 year old woman.

"Yes! The bastards filled us up."

"It was my first time." She looked at me with an empathy only one woman could feel for another.

"I don't understand," I started, " but as horrible as it was, sometimes my body seemed to find pleasure even though my mind protested. I feel so confused," I continued.

"My dear, you were having orgasms which are your body's natural response to penetration by a cock," she said. To me it was just one more time my body belonged to someone else.

While we were refreshing, a post and racks had been erected in the arena, but we were oblivious to their purpose.

Then the guards brought in iron shackles and our hands were fastened in front of us and we were chained together. The gate was opened and we were led naked into the cheering arena. We were marched around the field to the royal throne and made to kneel in homage to the Emperor.

He called down to our mistress and asked her what her wishes were.

Knowing that she was a gentile person, hope sprang to life in my heart.

But with tears suppressed in her eyes, she gave the only response she knew was allowed and turned her thumbs down. My heart sank in the chill of terror that had weighed in me so many times since this ordeal began. Once again my hope of innocence was lost.

The chains tightened and we were led to the racks and hung one by one in line, but Steven was taken to a group of hooded men and forced to ask two to be the ones inflicting his justice. He was the lead to the post and securely chained to it while his chosen two prepared their whips.

When he was left alone, one of his chosen turned his whip upon him while a resounding snap. Steven arched his back, then as we watch the whip was pulled back and clawed its way off his back. The straps of leather were weighted with sharp objects which sank into his flesh then tore their way back out.

No sooner had they pulled back then the other whip dug itself into him and ripped in the opposite direction across his back. Then the process was repeated until his back down to his claves was open wounds of hanging flesh.

When they stopped and released him he fell to his knees but almost immediately a large beam was laid on his shoulders, his arms tied to it, and he was led away.

Then they came to the next person in line. We were all pulling at our bounds, but she was taken down and led to the group of whip handlers and forced to invite two to whip her. In terror she finally chose two of the smaller men and was led to the post. I thought that they would surely show a woman more mercy, but her tiny body was flailed with the same fervor but met with more enthusiasm from the crowd as her tits would sway with every lash and at times even take a lash. Her female ass bounced with each hit and displayed its wounds prominently. When finished, she was taken down and presented with her patibulum and the process moved to the next victim, but soon we began hearing horrible screams from outside the arena.

My turn arrived and I was taken down from the rack as limp as a jacket.

Perhaps I was in shock, but the whole process seemed more like a horrible dream. Was this really going to happen to me? Was my skin going to be flayed open without mercy? Will everyone cheer my breast swaying under the whip and see my female ass displaying painful stripes?

I found myself in the midst of men much larger than me and had to choose two of them to tear my flesh and inflict pain. I looked at their arms, but everyone of them was as large as my leg with hands that could wrap around my biceps. They were arms that could hold me and make me feel safe but these arms scare me and will make me feel pain.

I finally choose two and asked them as I was instructed if they would please whip me? Then I was walked to the post wet with the blood of those scourged before me. My arms were wrapped around the post. I hadn't realized it before, but the post forced my back around presenting a better target for the whips. The two securing me to the post walked away and I began whimpering as I knew the first hit would soon begin.

Suddenly I heard a whooshing sound that changed into a hard slap with enough weight to take my breath and reverberate through my tits. The sting changed my whimpering into a voiceless scream, but I could not anticipate the next occurrence. The whip had actually dug its tines beneath my flesh to muscle. I felt my back pulling towards the whipper as his strong arms pulled the whip until my flesh could move no further and began ripping.

My toes curled and my fingers spread out as my body tensed and twisted under the whip. As soon as the first whip tore free I heard the whoosh of the second whip as it tore into me from the other side and my voiceless scream found its voice. My tits which had swayed to the left as my body was pulled to the right by the first strike now swayed to the right as my body was pulled left. The lash after lash landed on my body from my neck to my knees with some reaching around my small female back and ripping into a breast.

I never knew if there was a count of if it was the condition of their work that ended the lashings, but eventually my hands were freed, though I had no desire to move or touch what I had seen on others but was now on me.

The large wooden beam that now holds my left wrist was laid on me and I was led towards the sound of the screaming.

There I saw Steven already on his cross, my friend Maria and her baby both nailed together, and the 40 year old woman receiving her first nail.

As I stood in the midst of this horror my bladder began emptying itself and I released a turd to the ground in fear.

More water or a weak wine was given to me and I was thrown to the ground with my beam.

It was then that I realized that the cool water earlier was not to refresh us but to prolong our agony.
 
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If you overlook some typos you find a great story.
 
I trudge along towards home. Mostly I look at the path for many reasons. I am completely naked and need to watch where I place my bare feet. Although all dignity has been taken from me, I still find a little shame in being naked among clothed people, and the cum still working its way out of my holes makes me feel like a dirty slut.

I am mid way in my monthly cycle, so all the cum in me has certainly made me pregnant, if I live long enough. I would have certainly given a few of the men children and gladly been a wife or even concubine to them, but last night's cum was in me but not for me. I was just a receptacle, dead, with no future, and only useful for another's pleasure. I look at the path to avoid the horrified stares as people run from me, but it is also the only way I can support my beam. It is on my right shoulder parallel with my back. The nail and my left wrist hangs beneath the beam, and I have my right arm over it holding it down on my shoulder to counterbalance it.

My left hand and arm being nailed to the beam are useless to me. When I get home I am sure that we will be able to free my arm. Ocassionally I look up to get my bearings, but in my condition I can only manage one step ar a time.

Everyone runs from me. If I was walking this street two days ago, men would be taking a second look at me. I know what they were thinking, and so did their women, but it made me feel good knowing that they desired me and fantazied sbout making love to me. Even last night I felt the attraction of being the center of attention, but women's fantasies are never what we want for real. Yet I lived it for real and now the dripping cum coating my inner thighs shames me. I feel like most everyone, especially the women, blame for my shame. I wonder how much cum can drip from one person, but I trudge on.

I look up and finally see it, my home! It will never be the same again, but what it is to me can't be changed. Now I look at it as step by step in it grows nearer. Its beauty and peace reflected the personality and values of our master and his mistress. The first introduction to the villa is a welcoming garden surrounded by a low stone wall. As I entered into it, I noticed that the tools I was using two days ago are still laying on the ground. I was hoeing and weeding the flower patches when the call went out for the slaves to gather. Working in the garden was where I found my peace, and when fate found me I was watering it with my tears for our murdered master with an anger at Hans. With every strike of the hoe in dirt I was striking Hans.

We all knew that there were severe consequences for a slave revolt, but this was an act of anger by a barbarian. Unlike some slaves, we were always treated with kindness and understanding meant to make us not just better slaves but better persons. I grew up knowing my place in this culture but also feeling valued. In a day, all my value had been stripped from me. Rather than pleasing others I was the object of whatever perverted pleasure they took in me destroying me as a person. They left their unwanted cum in me as a reminder that I was owned by everyone yet belonged to no one. They weren't just killing me, but making me feel dead before I died. Even my pain was for them to feel alive and take pleasure in my death. They felt power in my weakness.

In this garden, I watered with tears for my master, now watered it with tears for myself. I watered it with my blood as my life drained from me. I watered with the cum dripping from me and defiling its dirt. I stopped for a moment and watched a huge glob of cum drip from me and into the dirt. Even this place that was my peace belonged to the bastards who had nailed my wrist to this inescapable beam which is the petibulum of the cross intended for me. But I had slipped away from them.

It was with great pain and effort that I now carried this burden I was fixed to away from death and back to life. My Lord had escaped death from the cross, perhaps this effort is my resurrection. I rested the beam over my right shoulder and along my bleeding back with the nail side down. My left arm is crossed in front of me hanging from its nail useless and broadcasting its pain to the rest of my body. My right arm id over the top of the beam to leverage it down on my shoulder and back. The beam is as long as i am tall and when I stand up its end touches the ground. I must bend over to walk. I can find some rest to my burden and pain when I stand, but i have to reintroduce myself to the pain in order to walk. Even in my struggles I am better off that those on their crosses dancing from pain to pain with no rest.

I bend forward with my burden and trudge along beside the house. Slaves do not enter the house through the front door. We would answer the front door and welcome others in, but we entered through the back door. Even now that tradition guides me. I managed the three steps up the back porch that would be filled with song and conversations on summer evenings. Dripping blood, sweat, and the fluids of my tormentors, I reached the back door and rested my load to slide the latch. It was locked. I knock on the door and hear voices and footsteps coming.

My heart races with joy and my mind wonders with anticipation as to which of my family would open the door.

As it opened I saw Stewart's welcoming smile which quickly turned to horror as he looked at me. I know that I present a tragic looking picture being bloody and naked, but something else was causing this reaction.

"What are you doing here?" He asks.

"Help me," came my weak reply. I could see the look in his eyes that all men get when they see a woman needing help. There is something hardwired in a man to fix things for women, and this helpless woman needed this man to fix what another man had done to me.

As he stood there conflicted and confused, a woman slightly older than me appeared behind him. She screeched a soft scream as her hand raised to her mouth and looked upon my naked form with a horrified expression.

I had never felt more naked in my life than under her gaze. I knew she saw the cum dripping from me and I felt her judgement.

Men can be horrible in faulting the victims of rape as them being the cause, but women are even more cruel. Compassion, condemnation, and jealousy occupied her mind. I had earned more cum than her so I must be a slut. While part of her felt sorrow for me, another part wanted it to be her.

Being a woman I understand what wretched beings we are. We are softer than men, more caring, healers, and the nurturers, until our nest is threatened. I am a threat to her nest.

As Stewart moved forward to help me, her armed crossed in front of him and grabbed the door.

"What are you doing here? " she yelled. "Are you trying to get us all killed?" "Go away!" She screamed, and slamed the door.

I stood dumbfounded as I heard the latch locking. I was locked out of any hope I had in my home while wondering what I could do now. The view from the porch is awe inspiring with rolling fields and woods. Even in my desperate state, its peace rolled over me.

I couldn't really blame her for her reaction and, as women do, I blamed myself for being stupid and thinking only of myself and putting them at risk., but what do I do now? Surely my executioners have discovered me missing by now and will come looking for me.

Then, while looking across the vista, I remembered my secret spot. It was a cave in the woods overlooking a small stream. At worst, it will be a better place to die.

So I bent back down under my burden and left my life and blood on the porch as I wandered off to my secret safe place.
 
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I bent under my burden once again with a new destination in mind, my safe place. This cave was the place where I dreamed my dreams and fantasized about a happy future. Those dreams were smashed forever in a short time. My fantasy of being swept off my feet and giving myself to an irresistible lover became one of being tossed on a table and used as a spittoon for cum. Being bound in love became bondage in prison, and mated together with my love became my wrist mated to this beam.

Navigating down the steps was more difficult than going up because my beam held me out of balance, but I made it down and to the field.
The grass was knee high and presented a new challenge to my travels. The field was not visible from the highway, and at one end some servants were working the early harvest.

Larger insects would take flight in front of me, and I remembered how as a child we would catch and impale them with straws to watch flying straw. Junebugs were the best. Oh my, the things children do for fun.

The tall grasses and uneven ground kept me in constant danger of falling, but I trudged on to my new hope still secured to my burden of death.

I at last reached the cover of the forest where I could find shelter and perhaps form a new plan. Just before I entered the shade, I stood up to rest myself and looked back across the field. To my horror I saw soldiers entering the field. It looked as if they had found my trail and were following it. I shifted my load back onto myself and ducked into the cover. With fear now motivating me I hobbled towards my safe place where perhaps I could hide. I was soon able to hear their voices and knew they were gaining on me, but then I remembered that my stream emptied over a cliff. I could run to the cliff, throw myself over, and at least escape their plan for my death.

I soon heard them calling out to me asking where I was going and mocking, no, toying with me. The cliff was a few steps away when they caught up with me. One kicked my right foot behind my left tripping me. I fell head first to the dirt and rock as the beam rolled of me towards the cliff threating to fall over and drag me with it, but it stopped short.

I was captured.

The solders were the same group that had nailed my wrist to the beam and were hysterical in laughter at my situation.

One complimented the other on the excellent job he had done in nailing my wrist which still held me tight.

I lay on the cool forest floor trying to coax my beam over the edge, but it was too far. Suddenly I felt warm water splashing my back setting my wounds on fire. One of the brutes had his cock out and was pissing on me. The others began laughing as he said "When you got to go you've got to go!"

Soon other cocks appeared and began raining their piss one me. All I could do was lay there until they had finished soaking me. When they finished with my shower, one lifted my beam onto my back and I was ordered to stand. Standing up was a taxing ordeal, but with kicks and cussing from the crew I managed to get up. One produced a length of rope and began wrapping it tightly around my tits one at a time. My breasts began to fill up and swell inside their bindings and soon looked more like mushroom ballons than my breasts. A rope was tied around the binding between my tits and with a tug I was ordered to walk. There was no need to bind my arms because my right arm needed to support my beam. I felt like my tits would be ripped off my chest with each tug and all I could do was follow my boobs back to my destiny. Tears were rolling down my checks, and my legs were not as motivated to return to the place where my feet would be nailed and my legs exhausted.

Suddenly my knees buckled sending me to the ground as my tits were jerked forward. After more kicks, hair pulled, and jerks to my tit lead, I regained my footing and was halfway across the field when they buckled again. This time my stomach began heaving, but all that was in me was sour wine and cum. I was hunched over to the ground watching the cum spew out my mouth and nose. This time my captures didn't cuss and kick me but were in a conversation together. One pointed to the workers in the field as another ran off. Another shouted, "make it a pretty one."

"Don't think we are weak and showing mercy," said the leader. "You made us work to kill you, so we are going to make you work to die."

Shortly, the one returned pushing a struggling girl slightly younger than me forward by her hair. I was made to stand again, but this time my beam was placed on her shoulder at nearly halfway. She had more weight her than I had. Her arms were tied to the beam, and my right arm was also tied to the beam. Before we moved one of the captors drew his dagger and cut the young girl's clothes loose letting them fall in the field.

She protested being naked and humilliated while our captures foundled her body and made lewd comments.

Soon my tit rope tightened and we moved forward following my tits back to the hill of death.

"Oh my God - your back," she exclaimed. " What did they do to you?" I ignored her question.

"What are they going to do to us?" She asked.

"Me? they are going to crucify, You? I don't know," I replied.

"But I'm innocent!" She exclaimed.

"So am I, so was I," I replied.
 
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My bteasts began to fill up and swell i
struggling girl slightlu younger than me

Some typos to be fixed for this deliciously cruel story.
 
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