The others had finished setting up the pole and were now dragging the sobbing convict to it. She was struggling, but even with her formidable physique it was a foregone conclusion. Besides, Parker thought, the last few hours had been rather exhausting for her. While he'd had a shower and a light snack in his suite, she'd been worked over by a Brute, and the beast hadn't been gentle. Blood from countless cuts and scratches marred the silkiness of her coat, and the sticky mess between her legs told its own story. The look on her face was one of utter despair. And still the effect of the Delta-Pink was very obvious in the way she moved, thighs grinding together, desperately trying to quench the fire...
Of course, another little detail might have had something to do with that too.
After he'd finished with her, he'd spent a few instructive and entertaining minutes watching the medical drone apply a set of antalyan-style slave piercings. Without the benefit of anaesthesia, naturally. She'd squirmed and whimpered as the sharp needle was jabbed through each nipple and the shiny metal rings were pulled through, but that'd been nothing compared to her reaction to the final piece of the set. A regular clitty piercing, the kind that'd been perennially popular with the ladies since before the age of spaceflight went through the hood, pushing against but not actually hurting the sensitive flesh beneath. Antalyan slave piercings were a different matter entirely. They were pushed straight through the main body of the clitoris, and the condemned transgenic had howled rather entertainingly as hers had gone in. By now, her swollen clit must have been stinging and itching abominably, and every step probably sent another sharp stab of pain through her nethers.
Without any ceremony, the guards threw her down on her back. She landed hard, the back of her head slamming against the wooden crossbar tied to her arms. It wasn't much of a blow, but it stunned her long enough for the guards to get in position. With one on each end of the crossbar, weighing it down, there was no way for her to gain enough leverage to get up again. And before she could even think about kicking, another guard had sat down on her legs, pinning them in place.
The black-uniformed guard turned up again, now holding the carbine-like device. He calmly walked over to the terrified convict's head and pointed it at the ground next to her. Eyes wide with fear, she followed the movement. The guard pulled the trigger, and with a loud THUNK a long, metal spike was fired into the ground. The former harem guard was now beyond all reason, alternately sobbing, moaning and whimpering into her gag, turning her head this way and that, as if trying to find some escape route somewhere.
There was none, of course. Her executioner calmly hefted the nailgun again and took aim at her right wrist.
THUNK!
Her scream was one of pure agony, trailing off into rapid, gasping breaths only after what seemed like an eternity. By then, the black-clad guard was already taking aim at her other wrist.
Another THUNK, another scream.
The guards moved quickly to remove the restraints that had secured the convict's arms to the crossbar. With her wrists securely pinned, they were no longer required, and they'd get in the way of the entertainment to come.
The transgenic's ample breasts shook and bounced as she writhed and twisted, struggling in vain to find an escape from her agony. The guards paused a while to admire the spectacle, while the black-clad executioner pulled out a datapad and entered some command.
To Parker's surprise, the wooden pole began to sink into the ground with a faint rumble.
He couldn't help but laugh. He'd been wondering how they were planning to get the huge slave mounted up there, now he knew. The whole thing was so quintessentially VWY, maintaining the illusion of a low-tech ceremony but adding just enough modern convenience to keep things efficient.
When the pole had lowered until only a meter or so remained visible, the executioner stopped the hidden hydraulic lift and the guards got back to work.
Quickly and efficiently, they grabbed the ends of the crossbar and pulled it up. The big transgenic howled in renewed agony as she was dragged backwards towards the waiting pole. She was trying to get her feet back under her, but between the chains around her ankles and the guards' speed and efficiency, it was a hopeless struggle.
The crossbar was dropped neatly into the slot on top of the pole and quickly secured with the waiting rope, leaving her half lying, half sitting, panting with pain and effort. She looked around in desperation, her wild eyes travelling from one impassive face to the next and finally settling on Parker's. Holding his gaze, she moaned something through her gag. It sounded like it might have been a plea for mercy, for a quick end, maybe. Possibly even, with the Delta-Pink coursing through her veins and setting her nethers on fire, a plea for another kind of release. But there wasn't really any time for that now, and besides, he was genuinely enjoying the show...
The executioner started up the lift again and the pole began to rise.
Writhing and screaming, the former harem guard was dragged first to a sitting position, then fully upright, and still the cross continued to rise. She stood on tiptoes to keep the weight off her tortured wrists for as long as possible, but the cross was merciless, its rise inexorable.
Her feet left the ground.
She was beyond pleading, beyond even screams. All she could manage was a rhythmic grunting, suspended from two lengths of metal driven through her wrists. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breasts shaking as she drew quick, shallow breaths. Once she realized that no matter how much she strained and stretched, she would never touch the ground again, she instead started trying to get a grip on the cross with her feet to support her weight somehow. But the wood was too smooth, and her body too heavy. Her frantic struggles only served to cause her even more pain as she fought her losing battle with gravity.
And of course the executioner wasn't done yet.
The guards started by removing the now-pointless shackles from her legs. Then they grabbed her right leg and wrestled it into place, the foot flat against the wood of the pole...
The black-clad executioner hefted his nailgun again.
THUNK! went the long metal spike, and with a short spray of blood, the convict's foot was firmly anchored to the cross. The other foot quickly followed, and that was it.
It was true, Parker thought, there really was nothing more helpless than a victim of crucifixion. On the ground, even in chains, she'd been an impressive figure. Tall. Powerful. Dangerous.
Up there, trying in vain to escape the pain somehow, it was clear to all who saw her that she was utterly defeated. She was a prisoner to her agony until the moment death would finally release her.
And there was one final indignity yet to come.
The way her feet had been nailed meant that she couldn't fully close her legs anymore. Her cunt, bruised from her rough treatment and still flushed with artificial heat, was displayed for all to see, and the clit ring that signified her new status as nothing more than a discarded sex toy glinted in the bright sunlight as she danced. It really drew the eye, shining out like that, just as its designers had intended.
Unfortunately for her, though, that wasn't all they'd designed it for.
The executioner poked another icon on his command pad and the condemned slave suddenly went rigid on her cross, too shocked for a moment to even breathe.
The little piece of jewelry had been far from idle. Following the instructions encoded into it, the clit ring had sent little nanowire tendrils questing into her body. They'd followed a very specific target list, and now the condemned slave's eyes widened in shock as her every intimate nerve ending was subjected to a storm of stimulating electricity.
.
