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Katja On The Cross

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Katja On Traitors Hill By ATroX

.As the flock of spectators wandered around the forest of crosses on Traitors Hill enjoying the display of naked women jiggling and shaking their boobs as they struggled to breath on their crosses, most of the crowd made sure to stop at the place of Katja’s martyrdom. Earlier, around noon, she had been strung up by her wrists on a whipping frame in the public square, her bare feet dangling in the air and flogged by two burly soldiers. No part of her naked body was spared. The men took especial glee in lashing her prominent udders and large circular areolas.

Now on Traitors Hill, Katja, a former galley slave and fugitive, was the embodiment of agony and humiliation. Her feet had been nailed in such a way so that her genitals were wide-open for an obscene display, her ass striated with whip lashes painfully shoved hard against the stipes, a cornu pushed deep inside her rectum. She sobbed and whimpered as her massive boobs shook and swayed as she gasped for air.

“Cow,” one man shouted at her, “how to you like the view from up there?” “Whore,” one woman shouted, ‘you need the cornu up your cunt, too.” Katja racked by the throbbing of her numerous whip marks, the nails in her flesh the sharp cornu up inside her plus the cruel jeers from the sadistic crowd, longed for one last kiss from her lover Jana, who had managed to escape the Romans and remained on the loose.
 

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Naked under the noon day sun. By hitiw.

Their naked bodies gleaming with sweat under the fierce desert sun, the two fugitive slave girls begged for water from the guards standing watch on Traitors Hill. The execution site was a poplar attraction for the nearby towns people who came to ogle the exposed feminine charms of the crucified women and to enjoy their suffering as enemies of Rome. One of the guards hearing the pleas of the two slave girls walked over to them. "Water, you want, whores. No, you don''t deserve water, but you've earned the lash." The spectators at the foot of their crosses cheered. "Yes, yes, lash their cunts, man," one citizen shouted. "And their boobs," one woman added. The guard withdrew his coiled whip from his belt, shook it out and cracked it in the air. The two slave girls on their crosses trembled with fright. Another guard strode over and uncoiled his whip. Together the guards chanted "Unus, duo, tres." Then the leather flew striking the undersides of each girl's breasts, lifting them high in the air before the plopped back on their chests. The crowed cheered.
 

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