-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
Sexpionage ...
- Thread starter Fossy
- Start date
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Thank you my friend
Geez! That shouldn’t be allowed! Arrest them!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Yep. Now I'm sure I know her!
Later the notes were printed: Yeah! Fuck! Fuck!!!! Ah..... here they left off.
Yeah, that's her alright.
There should be a warning label on this story: "Chafing Danger!"
Last edited:
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Death by Crucifixion (4)
Small Conference Theatre, Administration Block at Pishchalauski Castle Prison, Minsk, Belarus.
“Flogging.”
WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS A VERY VIOLENT SCENE.
“The objective of the ‘Flogging’ stage is to take the prisoner as close to death as possible without actually killing her. She will not merely be marked with reddened swollen welts, her skin will not simply be bleeding, but her flesh will be torn. Prisoner Novikova’s body will be so shredded that you might well see sections of her inner flesh, possible even bone, exposed by the deep, deep cuts.”
The audience were silent, all except the guy with the swarthy skin, who had his eyes closed and was trying hard to supress a moan as the girl next to him, under cover of his jacket, worked his foreskin back and forth whilst her thumb massaged his bulbous, purple cock-head with a nimble touch.
The Officer-In-Charge nodded at the two Whip-Masters. They understood the signal, and were more than ready to wet their scourges with the poor victim’s blood.
Ekaterina whimpered. Despite her exhausted state, a condition that rendered movement of any sort virtually impossible, she was entirely lucid and understood everything that had just been said. Although not an actively religious person, Kat began to slowly utter the words of a prayer she had learned as a child …
Behind her, the man tasked with the responsibility for tearing apart the rear of her body, approached and took his position, as the other walked around to face the condemned girl.
The scourge before her was held up, showing Kat the dreadful hooks, barbs and bone shards that would be the source of her appalling agonies.
The naked, beaten and exposed Agent slowly closed her eyes, trembling. The hair which hung in front of her face dripped with blood infused sweat.
“She did bleed sweat,” said the male student writhing a little, allowing the girl next to him to increase the pace of the friction of her fingers against his ever-swelling member.
“I … know …” she responded in a quiet, breathy manner, feeling his shaft pulse under her dextrous touch…
"Begin,” The horrifying instruction was issued.
The monster wielding the savage whip, grinned at Kat; his blood lust unmistakeable. The captive girl could hear the clacking and clinking of the hideous scourge, and its atrocious appendages. As the audience quieted its chatter, the excited prattle gave way to nervous anticipation. Their feverish faces were staring intently at the glistening wet nubile form in chains … all except the two at the end of the seated row, who were engaged in their own disreputable act.
Kat gazed ahead … scared, trembling, uttering the words of her prayer.
The silence that now reigned confirmed for the terrified girl that her ordeal was about to begin.
One of the Whip-Masters, the one at her back, raised the vicious instrument for all to see, and with a swift arc of his arm swept the ugly strands crossways over her shoulder blades.
From the short distance between them, the observing students witnessed Kat arc her body away from the dreadful impact as the metal and bone tore through her skin.
Her gasp, filled with shock and pain, was audible to all, and excited those whose lustful thirst can only be quenched by the blood and sweat of tortured young women … which seemed to be the entirety of the small group, both male and female!
Almost immediately blood rose from the ugly lacerations that streaked across Kat’s upper back.
It took the full thirty second pause allowed, but finally the chained Agent regained her composure, such that it was. The fresh wounds burned and she felt moisture exude from the vicinity; not knowing whether sweat or blood flowed.
Kat, with gritted teeth, raised her head again to look upon the monsters who brandished the scourges, and with renewed tenacity reinforced her denuded stance.
She heard the second lash swipe through the air, tensing her body as the terrible implement landed with a thud from the opposite side. The sharp tortuous adornments pierced the skin that was tight across her abdomen and right hip. The skill of the lash left the strands hugging her body, as the Whipmaster responsible for the fine stroke raised his fist to pump the air in heinous celebration to acknowledge the already spell bound clique, and then, with a vigorous tug, he ripped the spines through Kat’s flesh, blood splattering all around her appalling vignette.
The prisoner cried out, already slumped in her bonds, the chained manacles scraping the skin of her wrists, releasing fresh droplets of crimson red. Saliva drooled from Agent Novikova’s open mouth as the blood began to weave its journey down her thigh and buttocks.
The third blow came within an instant of the second. The barbs and hooks slammed into the suffering victim's flank, inviting fresh blood to come forth from muscle stripped of skin as the Whip-Master tore away the odious lash.
Kat arched her body into the shape of a bow, emitting guttural cries of anguish; shaking hands desperately clinging to the chains that secured her. Another lash sliced her open and she fell to one side hanging from her wrists; her legs extended fully by the chains about her ankles.
The administrator of the disgusting display of barbarity raised his hand for the beating to cease.
Maybe the short pause was more for the benefit of the officials and observers, because the few seconds that passed before the indication to begin again was given offered no reprieve whatsoever to the poor victim.
Both Whip-Masters were anxious to begin again. Upon the command, one nodded to the other, and with a grim smile, it once again became the turn of the man at Kat’s front to demonstrate his atrocious skill.
He swung with a force that left everyone in no doubt that the destruction of Kat's body had resumed, and he vocally expressed his efforts with a grunt, meting out the stroke with a forceful impact that shredded the skin from the middle of her chest.
Cries from the girl; gasps from the arena. Somehow, Kat managed to look up, her body tensed as best it could as the baneful whip struck once more, and this time hasped its tips into her shoulder and upper breasts. It's violent removal triggering rivers of blood to stream down her body to soak the stage floor below. Over her nipples, coating them crimson, covering her abdomen and thighs, turning the scene into an even more horrific display.
Kat's screams became as raw as her body.
The scourge embedded itself into her ribs with the next strike. She arched her broken torso forward upon its extraction; head back, the tortured girl screamed as the metal raked her ribcage.
The Whip-Master charged with delivering the next lash saw the opportunity in Kat's position. While she was still arced, he hammered the scourge once again into her upper body. The weighted strands landed with a hollow thud diagonally across her chest. The barbs and hooks buried in her flesh. The sharp deliberate yanks opened fresh wounds, furrowing her ample breasts and pectoral muscles. The warm red liquid splattered and seeped over the girl's hard stomach.
Another swipe dug into her back with an audible wet thud. Agent Novikova cried out hoarsely, interrupting the still active gasps of shock from the audience following the previous impact.
The sheer determination to withstand this terrible torture showed through gritted teeth … shaking, flexing fingers clutching the chains…
The next stroke scraped over and through her upper back. Enduring more blistering pain Kat gripped even harder at the steel holding her in place as blood splashed and flew all around the scene of her demise, and the freshly drawn liquid streamed over the sinuous muscles of her tensed arms.
Once again the scourge tore a bloody path across her body; whimpering with her forehead drooped upon her shoulder, Kat was losing consciousness.
“Fuckkkkkkk!” The words uttered by the male student were suitably admonished.
“Shhhhhhhh!” Came the giggle as the final strokes of the male student’s hard-on brought about his copious release …
“Fuckkkkk!” He repeated, only a little more quietly the second time. He turned to look at the girl, who smiled before chewing on her bottom lip and raising her eyebrows to enlarge her pupils in ‘mock’ wide-eyed innocence.
As the terrifyingly brutal scourging continued the satiated student lay back in his seat. The stimulated sensations of the most clandestine orgasm he had ever experienced had filtered the worst of the prisoner’s suffering out of his consciousness, but a simple glance to his side allowed him to see the shocked faces of his co-students who were busy scribbling their notes.
As both Whip-Masters now struck in turn, without pause, any remaining patches of flesh coloured skin were quickly torn away as the barbs and their heinous co-shards cleaved Kat’s flesh from her body.
And then, as the scourge carved her open once again with its flesh-rending teeth, Kat slumped for a final time.
The director of this brutal scene raised his hand and the two Whip-Masters stepped away from the ravaged girl before them.
Her back had turned to a human marshland of torn flesh and exposed sinews under the relentless scourging. Agent Ekaterina’s entire body was now decorated with rivers of blood, and wounds like small trenches.
As the student with the tanned features turned once more towards the perpetrator of his ecstasy, he did so just in time to see her licking her fingers clean.
To Be Continued …
Small Conference Theatre, Administration Block at Pishchalauski Castle Prison, Minsk, Belarus.
“Flogging.”
WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS A VERY VIOLENT SCENE.
“The objective of the ‘Flogging’ stage is to take the prisoner as close to death as possible without actually killing her. She will not merely be marked with reddened swollen welts, her skin will not simply be bleeding, but her flesh will be torn. Prisoner Novikova’s body will be so shredded that you might well see sections of her inner flesh, possible even bone, exposed by the deep, deep cuts.”
The audience were silent, all except the guy with the swarthy skin, who had his eyes closed and was trying hard to supress a moan as the girl next to him, under cover of his jacket, worked his foreskin back and forth whilst her thumb massaged his bulbous, purple cock-head with a nimble touch.
The Officer-In-Charge nodded at the two Whip-Masters. They understood the signal, and were more than ready to wet their scourges with the poor victim’s blood.
Ekaterina whimpered. Despite her exhausted state, a condition that rendered movement of any sort virtually impossible, she was entirely lucid and understood everything that had just been said. Although not an actively religious person, Kat began to slowly utter the words of a prayer she had learned as a child …
Behind her, the man tasked with the responsibility for tearing apart the rear of her body, approached and took his position, as the other walked around to face the condemned girl.
The scourge before her was held up, showing Kat the dreadful hooks, barbs and bone shards that would be the source of her appalling agonies.
The naked, beaten and exposed Agent slowly closed her eyes, trembling. The hair which hung in front of her face dripped with blood infused sweat.
“She did bleed sweat,” said the male student writhing a little, allowing the girl next to him to increase the pace of the friction of her fingers against his ever-swelling member.
“I … know …” she responded in a quiet, breathy manner, feeling his shaft pulse under her dextrous touch…
"Begin,” The horrifying instruction was issued.
The monster wielding the savage whip, grinned at Kat; his blood lust unmistakeable. The captive girl could hear the clacking and clinking of the hideous scourge, and its atrocious appendages. As the audience quieted its chatter, the excited prattle gave way to nervous anticipation. Their feverish faces were staring intently at the glistening wet nubile form in chains … all except the two at the end of the seated row, who were engaged in their own disreputable act.
Kat gazed ahead … scared, trembling, uttering the words of her prayer.
The silence that now reigned confirmed for the terrified girl that her ordeal was about to begin.
One of the Whip-Masters, the one at her back, raised the vicious instrument for all to see, and with a swift arc of his arm swept the ugly strands crossways over her shoulder blades.
From the short distance between them, the observing students witnessed Kat arc her body away from the dreadful impact as the metal and bone tore through her skin.
Her gasp, filled with shock and pain, was audible to all, and excited those whose lustful thirst can only be quenched by the blood and sweat of tortured young women … which seemed to be the entirety of the small group, both male and female!
Almost immediately blood rose from the ugly lacerations that streaked across Kat’s upper back.
It took the full thirty second pause allowed, but finally the chained Agent regained her composure, such that it was. The fresh wounds burned and she felt moisture exude from the vicinity; not knowing whether sweat or blood flowed.
Kat, with gritted teeth, raised her head again to look upon the monsters who brandished the scourges, and with renewed tenacity reinforced her denuded stance.
She heard the second lash swipe through the air, tensing her body as the terrible implement landed with a thud from the opposite side. The sharp tortuous adornments pierced the skin that was tight across her abdomen and right hip. The skill of the lash left the strands hugging her body, as the Whipmaster responsible for the fine stroke raised his fist to pump the air in heinous celebration to acknowledge the already spell bound clique, and then, with a vigorous tug, he ripped the spines through Kat’s flesh, blood splattering all around her appalling vignette.
The prisoner cried out, already slumped in her bonds, the chained manacles scraping the skin of her wrists, releasing fresh droplets of crimson red. Saliva drooled from Agent Novikova’s open mouth as the blood began to weave its journey down her thigh and buttocks.
The third blow came within an instant of the second. The barbs and hooks slammed into the suffering victim's flank, inviting fresh blood to come forth from muscle stripped of skin as the Whip-Master tore away the odious lash.
Kat arched her body into the shape of a bow, emitting guttural cries of anguish; shaking hands desperately clinging to the chains that secured her. Another lash sliced her open and she fell to one side hanging from her wrists; her legs extended fully by the chains about her ankles.
The administrator of the disgusting display of barbarity raised his hand for the beating to cease.
Maybe the short pause was more for the benefit of the officials and observers, because the few seconds that passed before the indication to begin again was given offered no reprieve whatsoever to the poor victim.
Both Whip-Masters were anxious to begin again. Upon the command, one nodded to the other, and with a grim smile, it once again became the turn of the man at Kat’s front to demonstrate his atrocious skill.
He swung with a force that left everyone in no doubt that the destruction of Kat's body had resumed, and he vocally expressed his efforts with a grunt, meting out the stroke with a forceful impact that shredded the skin from the middle of her chest.
Cries from the girl; gasps from the arena. Somehow, Kat managed to look up, her body tensed as best it could as the baneful whip struck once more, and this time hasped its tips into her shoulder and upper breasts. It's violent removal triggering rivers of blood to stream down her body to soak the stage floor below. Over her nipples, coating them crimson, covering her abdomen and thighs, turning the scene into an even more horrific display.
Kat's screams became as raw as her body.
The scourge embedded itself into her ribs with the next strike. She arched her broken torso forward upon its extraction; head back, the tortured girl screamed as the metal raked her ribcage.
The Whip-Master charged with delivering the next lash saw the opportunity in Kat's position. While she was still arced, he hammered the scourge once again into her upper body. The weighted strands landed with a hollow thud diagonally across her chest. The barbs and hooks buried in her flesh. The sharp deliberate yanks opened fresh wounds, furrowing her ample breasts and pectoral muscles. The warm red liquid splattered and seeped over the girl's hard stomach.
Another swipe dug into her back with an audible wet thud. Agent Novikova cried out hoarsely, interrupting the still active gasps of shock from the audience following the previous impact.
The sheer determination to withstand this terrible torture showed through gritted teeth … shaking, flexing fingers clutching the chains…
The next stroke scraped over and through her upper back. Enduring more blistering pain Kat gripped even harder at the steel holding her in place as blood splashed and flew all around the scene of her demise, and the freshly drawn liquid streamed over the sinuous muscles of her tensed arms.
Once again the scourge tore a bloody path across her body; whimpering with her forehead drooped upon her shoulder, Kat was losing consciousness.
“Fuckkkkkkk!” The words uttered by the male student were suitably admonished.
“Shhhhhhhh!” Came the giggle as the final strokes of the male student’s hard-on brought about his copious release …
“Fuckkkkk!” He repeated, only a little more quietly the second time. He turned to look at the girl, who smiled before chewing on her bottom lip and raising her eyebrows to enlarge her pupils in ‘mock’ wide-eyed innocence.
As the terrifyingly brutal scourging continued the satiated student lay back in his seat. The stimulated sensations of the most clandestine orgasm he had ever experienced had filtered the worst of the prisoner’s suffering out of his consciousness, but a simple glance to his side allowed him to see the shocked faces of his co-students who were busy scribbling their notes.
As both Whip-Masters now struck in turn, without pause, any remaining patches of flesh coloured skin were quickly torn away as the barbs and their heinous co-shards cleaved Kat’s flesh from her body.
And then, as the scourge carved her open once again with its flesh-rending teeth, Kat slumped for a final time.
The director of this brutal scene raised his hand and the two Whip-Masters stepped away from the ravaged girl before them.
Her back had turned to a human marshland of torn flesh and exposed sinews under the relentless scourging. Agent Ekaterina’s entire body was now decorated with rivers of blood, and wounds like small trenches.
As the student with the tanned features turned once more towards the perpetrator of his ecstasy, he did so just in time to see her licking her fingers clean.
To Be Continued …
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Death by Crucifixion (5)
Small grassland clearing at the foot of a hillock, Administration Block at Pishchalauski Castle Prison, Minsk, Belarus.
“Dressing.”
“What the fuck was all that about, you actually made me cum!” The male student could hardly believe what the girl had done to him.
“Sorry, you didn’t enjoy it?”
“Erm, well yeah, course I did, but why …”
The student with the long dark hair turned to her male colleague with the unkempt hair and tawny skin and cocked her head at a jaunty angle before speaking again. “Look, I was so turned on by what we saw and you were hard as a rock, so I just …” She beamed him a huge grin, “… And now you owe me one!”
Proceedings had paused for a little while so that Kat could be loosened and taken down from the frame. The students remained in their seats, continuing their observations as the unfettered prisoner, beaten and bloody, fell to the wooden floor of the stage.
However, once a small team of medics had crowded round the fallen girl, the University post Grads were ushered outside into the fresh air and asked to take up a spot by an expanse of open grassland at the back of the Prison.
“Look at that …” The student guy said. Both he and girl looked up and saw the crucifix looming as large as life. Even at this midday hour it still created a terrible silhouette against the contrasting background of the morning sky.
“It’s huge,” said the girl, “… and the prisoner looks so small.”
They spoke no more as they stared up at the cross, which interestingly had both the upright stipes and the perpendicular patibulum already in place.
Back inside the theatre Kat lay unmoving on the stage floor.
“Her pulse is adequate,” said one medic as another dripped haemoglobin supplements into her open wounds in an attempt to stave off some of the impending traumatic shock. They were not trying to heal Kat, or make her feel better in any way, they were simply making sure that she did not die on them before the full spectacle of her execution had been endured.
The students continued to gather in their small huddle as they attempted to rationalise what they had just seen. Many of them looked dazed, but all found the process compelling beyond the limits of their comprehension …
“She’s here,” the guy said to the long-haired girl, and they both stared, as Ekaterina, now back on her unsteady feet, was led naked, chain free but barely able to walk, out into the open. Her beaten, broken body stumbled along until she was positioned to face the students, just a few feet away from them.
The proximity of the condemned prisoner to the small group meant that now they could see just how badly wounded she really was. They were able to observe her close up and remark upon the contrast between her dreadfully torn body and still beautiful face.
The Officer-In-Charge spoke again to introduce the next stage.
“Welcome all once again, this time to the place we call забойныя палі, the ‘killing field’”. The very words sent a shiver up every one of the young adults in attendance.
“It is at this point that our condemned girl will endure the crown of thorns as it is placed upon her head. The crown is made of flexible branches covered with long, sharp thorns. The branches are plaited together into the shape of a crown, and this is then pressed into her scalp like so …”
Upon hearing the words, a tall official, his hands suitably gloved, took the pre made ‘crown’ and placed it upon the head of the prisoner. The initial action was quite harmless, but when the same officer then pressed upon the branches the thorns dug into Kat’s scalp and she cried out falling to her knees ….
The student cohort gasped which clearly delighted the Officer-In-Charge. As Kat was dragged back to her feet, he continued his narrative. “You will observe that again there is copious bleeding, the scalp is of course one of the most vascular areas of the body.”
Blood ran in thick stripes down Kat’s face to drip from her chin and onto the grassy surface beneath her. She looked horrific.
“You will also notice …” the officer continued, “That our cross already has the cross-bar in place. A true replication of the Passion would of course have seen our condemned carrying her own Patibulum up the small mount. However, practically speaking, that could never happen. The wooden frame is far too heavy, and she would simply end up being lashed to death here for non-compliance.”
There were several sage-like nods of apparent understanding from the small audience.
“As an alternative we have a slightly smaller version of the cross bar for the prisoner to carry towards the cross. You will note that the piece of wood is still rough-hewn, not very much lighter, but smaller so that the exercise becomes logistically possible.”
As he spoke Ekaterina offered no response at all. Her face was now covered in blood, which for the time being at least, seemed to have stopped pouring from the points where the thorns had become embedded into her head.
The bloodied and beaten Agent was forced down onto one knee as the vague cries of "зрабіць шлях ‘make way’!" sounded nearby, getting ever nearer. Kat glanced sideways to see two men carrying a rough wooden beam, smaller than the actual cross beam but still several feet long. Approaching her kneeling form, she felt them place the bar against her shoulders.
“Fuck, they really are going to make her carry it …” came a comment from the students who were still not quite believing what it was they were witnessing.
While the two men held the bar in place Kat's wrists were secured via ropes and cuffs to eye bolts set in the wood. Then they took short leather straps and tied her arms to the bar at each elbow. Finished with these preparations they helped the newly burdened girl back to her feet. They left her to stand for a few minutes facing her observers, head bowed and arms outstretched in a preview of her impending torment.
‘Move it bitch,” instructions were spoken, and with a guttural groan the bloody, beaten girl commenced her unwanted journey.
The little procession headed over the small clearing to the place called the mound. The officer-In-Charge led the way, followed by Kat. Another officer walked to one side of, and slightly behind, the Agent. He had equipped himself with a crop which he used periodically to urge the girl forward. The two men who had brought the plank followed along behind, and behind them the observing students straggled along.
With a cry, Kat fell to her knees. She was exhausted and the loss of blood was beginning to weaken her considerably. She knew that she was about to die, and, given the way she was suffering, it would be a relief.
Two men took hold of the crossbar and waited for a little while giving Kat then chance to draw whatever breath she could. Then they turned her again towards the mound and the girl whimpered as the weight was once more released upon her body and the officer to her side encouraged Kat, with a deft flick of the crop, to move on.
"Move on, scum," he said, to supplement the crack of the leather against her thigh.
Kat trudged on up the small hillock and onwards towards the mound. It was respite for the tormented girl when they reached the base of the cross, but it was relief tinged with a certain dread, because she knew the main event was upon her.
Looking up, Kat saw the cross ... large, ominous, overwhelming The actual patibulum was already fastened to it, and, as her arms were released from the wooden beam she had been forced to carry, the girl realised how impossible it would have been for her to transport the actual cross bar, for it was huge.
“Mount her” came the command as the students arrived and gathered round to take up their positions of observation.
To Be Continued …
Small grassland clearing at the foot of a hillock, Administration Block at Pishchalauski Castle Prison, Minsk, Belarus.
“Dressing.”
“What the fuck was all that about, you actually made me cum!” The male student could hardly believe what the girl had done to him.
“Sorry, you didn’t enjoy it?”
“Erm, well yeah, course I did, but why …”
The student with the long dark hair turned to her male colleague with the unkempt hair and tawny skin and cocked her head at a jaunty angle before speaking again. “Look, I was so turned on by what we saw and you were hard as a rock, so I just …” She beamed him a huge grin, “… And now you owe me one!”
Proceedings had paused for a little while so that Kat could be loosened and taken down from the frame. The students remained in their seats, continuing their observations as the unfettered prisoner, beaten and bloody, fell to the wooden floor of the stage.
However, once a small team of medics had crowded round the fallen girl, the University post Grads were ushered outside into the fresh air and asked to take up a spot by an expanse of open grassland at the back of the Prison.
“Look at that …” The student guy said. Both he and girl looked up and saw the crucifix looming as large as life. Even at this midday hour it still created a terrible silhouette against the contrasting background of the morning sky.
“It’s huge,” said the girl, “… and the prisoner looks so small.”
They spoke no more as they stared up at the cross, which interestingly had both the upright stipes and the perpendicular patibulum already in place.
Back inside the theatre Kat lay unmoving on the stage floor.
“Her pulse is adequate,” said one medic as another dripped haemoglobin supplements into her open wounds in an attempt to stave off some of the impending traumatic shock. They were not trying to heal Kat, or make her feel better in any way, they were simply making sure that she did not die on them before the full spectacle of her execution had been endured.
The students continued to gather in their small huddle as they attempted to rationalise what they had just seen. Many of them looked dazed, but all found the process compelling beyond the limits of their comprehension …
“She’s here,” the guy said to the long-haired girl, and they both stared, as Ekaterina, now back on her unsteady feet, was led naked, chain free but barely able to walk, out into the open. Her beaten, broken body stumbled along until she was positioned to face the students, just a few feet away from them.
The proximity of the condemned prisoner to the small group meant that now they could see just how badly wounded she really was. They were able to observe her close up and remark upon the contrast between her dreadfully torn body and still beautiful face.
The Officer-In-Charge spoke again to introduce the next stage.
“Welcome all once again, this time to the place we call забойныя палі, the ‘killing field’”. The very words sent a shiver up every one of the young adults in attendance.
“It is at this point that our condemned girl will endure the crown of thorns as it is placed upon her head. The crown is made of flexible branches covered with long, sharp thorns. The branches are plaited together into the shape of a crown, and this is then pressed into her scalp like so …”
Upon hearing the words, a tall official, his hands suitably gloved, took the pre made ‘crown’ and placed it upon the head of the prisoner. The initial action was quite harmless, but when the same officer then pressed upon the branches the thorns dug into Kat’s scalp and she cried out falling to her knees ….
The student cohort gasped which clearly delighted the Officer-In-Charge. As Kat was dragged back to her feet, he continued his narrative. “You will observe that again there is copious bleeding, the scalp is of course one of the most vascular areas of the body.”
Blood ran in thick stripes down Kat’s face to drip from her chin and onto the grassy surface beneath her. She looked horrific.
“You will also notice …” the officer continued, “That our cross already has the cross-bar in place. A true replication of the Passion would of course have seen our condemned carrying her own Patibulum up the small mount. However, practically speaking, that could never happen. The wooden frame is far too heavy, and she would simply end up being lashed to death here for non-compliance.”
There were several sage-like nods of apparent understanding from the small audience.
“As an alternative we have a slightly smaller version of the cross bar for the prisoner to carry towards the cross. You will note that the piece of wood is still rough-hewn, not very much lighter, but smaller so that the exercise becomes logistically possible.”
As he spoke Ekaterina offered no response at all. Her face was now covered in blood, which for the time being at least, seemed to have stopped pouring from the points where the thorns had become embedded into her head.
The bloodied and beaten Agent was forced down onto one knee as the vague cries of "зрабіць шлях ‘make way’!" sounded nearby, getting ever nearer. Kat glanced sideways to see two men carrying a rough wooden beam, smaller than the actual cross beam but still several feet long. Approaching her kneeling form, she felt them place the bar against her shoulders.
“Fuck, they really are going to make her carry it …” came a comment from the students who were still not quite believing what it was they were witnessing.
While the two men held the bar in place Kat's wrists were secured via ropes and cuffs to eye bolts set in the wood. Then they took short leather straps and tied her arms to the bar at each elbow. Finished with these preparations they helped the newly burdened girl back to her feet. They left her to stand for a few minutes facing her observers, head bowed and arms outstretched in a preview of her impending torment.
‘Move it bitch,” instructions were spoken, and with a guttural groan the bloody, beaten girl commenced her unwanted journey.
The little procession headed over the small clearing to the place called the mound. The officer-In-Charge led the way, followed by Kat. Another officer walked to one side of, and slightly behind, the Agent. He had equipped himself with a crop which he used periodically to urge the girl forward. The two men who had brought the plank followed along behind, and behind them the observing students straggled along.
With a cry, Kat fell to her knees. She was exhausted and the loss of blood was beginning to weaken her considerably. She knew that she was about to die, and, given the way she was suffering, it would be a relief.
Two men took hold of the crossbar and waited for a little while giving Kat then chance to draw whatever breath she could. Then they turned her again towards the mound and the girl whimpered as the weight was once more released upon her body and the officer to her side encouraged Kat, with a deft flick of the crop, to move on.
"Move on, scum," he said, to supplement the crack of the leather against her thigh.
Kat trudged on up the small hillock and onwards towards the mound. It was respite for the tormented girl when they reached the base of the cross, but it was relief tinged with a certain dread, because she knew the main event was upon her.
Looking up, Kat saw the cross ... large, ominous, overwhelming The actual patibulum was already fastened to it, and, as her arms were released from the wooden beam she had been forced to carry, the girl realised how impossible it would have been for her to transport the actual cross bar, for it was huge.
“Mount her” came the command as the students arrived and gathered round to take up their positions of observation.
To Be Continued …
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
It doesn't sound as if Kat is taking this well?
My heart is warmed by their care and sympathy!
Apparently, none of them are CF members
A wonderful command - with multiple, arousing, possible meanings!
You are doing a fine job of drawing this horrifying picture, Fossy.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Death by Crucifixion (6)
The Mound, Administration Block at Pishchalauski Castle Prison, Minsk, Belarus.
“Mounting.”
From the front view everything looked perfectly normal, save for the heavy-lidded appearance of the female student’s eyes. Her long dark hair framed her face and occasionally she gasped for breath …
The Officer-In-Charge stepped forward to address the observing group. “Our prisoner will now be mounted upon the cross …”
The students looked down to where Ekaterina had been laid upon the ground. She was virtually unmoving, clearly exhausted, as a hypodermic needle was being slowly inserted into her neck.
“The excessive blood loss and dehydration will already be sending her body into shock. This can in turn cause pericarditis or inflammation of the heart sac and stabbing pains in the chest. You will note therefore that we are administering a Dopamine injection in order to strengthen the heart and improve blood flow to the kidneys. This would not of course have happened to Our Lord, but here we wish to heighten the prisoner’s lucidity during the overall process.”
“Fuck, yeah …” The female student uttered under her breath. Despite her outward appearance seeming ordinary, what no one knew was that, having taken a position at the back of the small group, she had her hands inside her long coat pockets so that she could hold up her loosened jeans. They had been loosened by the guy with the swarthy skin and unkempt hair, who was behind her with his hand inside both the denim and the flimsy lace of her panties …
The Officer-In-Charge continued his narrative. “Having experienced an unthinkable amount of pain already, Prisoner Novikova will now be secured to the cross by ropes so that nails can then be driven into her hands and feet. The positioning of a person on a crucifix is devised to create the most discomfort possible, from the way her hands are raised wide to the side through to the angle of knees and hips. She will have to continually push against her feet in order to breathe but doing so will send pain signals through every nerve ending in her body. Continued shock, despite the dopamine, will eventually reduce her blood pressure, meaning that oxygen will not be getting to her organs and her body will begin to close down.”
“Oh God, ohhhh fuck …” As she felt her thighs parted just a little from behind, and one, maybe two, fingers penetrate her soft folds, the girl with the long dark hair groaned.
“Please proceed,” the order to the officials was given.
"Don't … pl … please," Kat pleaded quietly, as she was easily picked up and thrown over the shoulder of a huge man, who in turn proceeded to climb a sturdy ladder propped against one side of the patibulum. He met another two colleagues when he reached the top rungs and the three of them manhandled Agent Novikova into position so that tight ropes could be tied around her arms and waist holding her in place.
“Please, no,” were Kat’s only other words as one of the men positioned the point of the iron spike at the palm of her hand.
“Impale her,” – “Nail the bitch,” Were the words uttered by the conjoined students as the fingers between the girl’s legs worked her harder. She felt her knees wobble and had to reach behind to hold the hips of the guy whose body was pressed hard into her own.
The sharpened iron indented the soft flesh of Kat’s delicate hand. Four men were now holding her in position, along with the ropes, as an arm raised the mallet to strike. The condemned girl wanted to close her eyes but for some reason she couldn't as the mallet head descended to strike the flat head of the spike driving it through her palm into the rough wood.
Blood spurted from the wound splattering the man’s hand. A bolt of excruciating agony shot through Kat’s arm, conveying a pain so intense that even four men and the ropes were finding it difficult to keep this beaten and broken girl still.
“Aiiiiiiiiii please, My God, help me!”
“Oh fuck, ohhhh yes, touch my clit, just like that ohhhhh fuck …” The dark-haired girl watching the scene unfold before her whilst being soundly fingered, was teetering on the brink of orgasmic bliss.
Kat writhed against the men’s firm hold on her as the iron penetrated her flesh passing between the second and third metacarpal bones wedging them aside to exit the back of her hand and find a home in the wood. A second blow from the mallet wedged the bones further apart creating an appalling agony. The Agent’s head fell and her chin brushed her chest as a third blow drove the spike's flat head flush against her palm. There was surprisingly little additional splatter for something so devastating to flesh, bone, and blood.
“I’m gonna cum, ohhhh fuck, do the other nail now, please!” The student girl quietly pleaded in undiscernible tones.
“Ohhhhhnghhhhhhhhhhhh!” Yelled Ekaterina as they did just that and secured her other hand in the same appallingly brutal manner.
“Ohhhhh fuckkkkkkkkkkkkk!” Gasped the girl with the long dark hair at that same moment as she came hard all over the guy’s hand. But as he began to remove his fingers from the warm, wet sanctuary, the male student felt a light grip on his arm.
“Keep going, do it again,” The girl implored him, for she had seen what was happening now.
One of the men had moved down his ladder a little and was nailing a wedge of wood to the upright Stipes. The top of the wedge was adorned with an extremely substantial rough wooden phallus.
“They’re going to sit her upon that …” The girl was virtually breathless as she pushed backwards into the renewed penetration of her pussy by the guy’s long fingers.
The phallus was shaped to a peak slanting down and outward to a base diameter of several inches.
“Look at the shape and size of it,” she whispered, “Will it even fit into her?” But as the female student uttered these words, she knew full well that they would make it fit!
The officers coated the phallus with lubricant, no doubt an act not of compassion but one designed to maximise the ‘entertainment’ value of Kat’s ‘performance’.
Now the Officer-In-Charge spoke again. “The use of the supporting attachment is hopefully obvious from its design. It is often referred to as a sedile or cornu, and is there to restrict the options available to the crucified for seeking relief. Pushing up to ease her breathing difficulties will cause tremendous pain, reverting her position will impede her breathing capacity and sink her fully onto the appendage …”
“Oh yes, ohhhh fucking yes …” The girl was beside herself and wanted desperately to fuck, but instead, knowing that they couldn’t do that, she slipped her own hand inside her jeans to help the guy take her quickly to the edge again!
The cross was ready, Kat’s hands had been nailed and the sedile was in place. They untied the ropes, placed the tip of the phallus shaped attachment at the centre of her anus and released the ropes.
She slid down and impaled herself entirely as expected.
"Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, Argghhhhhhhhhhh!” Kat found her voice but offered up nothing coherent, as she felt her ass attempting to stretch around the invading object. To assist matters, the crucified girl felt her ankles gripped and her body dragged downwards. The strong pull was accompanied by her cry of anguish as the sedile burst through her sphincter to pull the shaft tightly into her ass. The pain emanating from her unnaturally stretched rectum was more than just discomfort … it was a clear compounding of the extreme agony she was already experiencing.
Hands securely spiked and rectum filled to bursting point, layers of pain upon agony upon torment, sent a shock wave through Kat’s body that prompted the loudest scream she was capable of.
The yell acted as a complete cover for the student with the nubile figure, loose jeans and long dark hair as she was unable to supress a loud groan when the second orgasm hit her!
All of the officers had descended and the ladders taken away. Her terrible vignette was almost complete … almost. Kat looked down as a man placed a longer and thicker spike at the tarsals of her right foot, which was positioned on top of her left. He pressed the point into her flesh and a small well of blood appeared surrounding the puncture. She screamed as the point scratched against her exposed first and second metatarsal. The man with the spike looked up at Kat, smiled and then rubbed the point of the nail along the top of the metatarsal.
There is a certain body of thought that bone scraping is about the most painful torture ever devised and the feeling of that sharp metal point scrap over the surface of her foot was excruciating for poor Ekaterina.
She only had to endure a few moments before the Officer-In-Charge gestured for his man to get on with it. Kat gazed down once again to see the officer raise his arm then bring the mallet crashing down directly onto the head of the spike.
White spots of pain blinded Kat as he hammered the iron home. The sheer horror of the sensation of the sharp metal exiting the sole of her lower foot and entering the wood, drove Kat to the brink of insanity.
To Be Continued …
The Mound, Administration Block at Pishchalauski Castle Prison, Minsk, Belarus.
“Mounting.”
From the front view everything looked perfectly normal, save for the heavy-lidded appearance of the female student’s eyes. Her long dark hair framed her face and occasionally she gasped for breath …
The Officer-In-Charge stepped forward to address the observing group. “Our prisoner will now be mounted upon the cross …”
The students looked down to where Ekaterina had been laid upon the ground. She was virtually unmoving, clearly exhausted, as a hypodermic needle was being slowly inserted into her neck.
“The excessive blood loss and dehydration will already be sending her body into shock. This can in turn cause pericarditis or inflammation of the heart sac and stabbing pains in the chest. You will note therefore that we are administering a Dopamine injection in order to strengthen the heart and improve blood flow to the kidneys. This would not of course have happened to Our Lord, but here we wish to heighten the prisoner’s lucidity during the overall process.”
“Fuck, yeah …” The female student uttered under her breath. Despite her outward appearance seeming ordinary, what no one knew was that, having taken a position at the back of the small group, she had her hands inside her long coat pockets so that she could hold up her loosened jeans. They had been loosened by the guy with the swarthy skin and unkempt hair, who was behind her with his hand inside both the denim and the flimsy lace of her panties …
The Officer-In-Charge continued his narrative. “Having experienced an unthinkable amount of pain already, Prisoner Novikova will now be secured to the cross by ropes so that nails can then be driven into her hands and feet. The positioning of a person on a crucifix is devised to create the most discomfort possible, from the way her hands are raised wide to the side through to the angle of knees and hips. She will have to continually push against her feet in order to breathe but doing so will send pain signals through every nerve ending in her body. Continued shock, despite the dopamine, will eventually reduce her blood pressure, meaning that oxygen will not be getting to her organs and her body will begin to close down.”
“Oh God, ohhhh fuck …” As she felt her thighs parted just a little from behind, and one, maybe two, fingers penetrate her soft folds, the girl with the long dark hair groaned.
“Please proceed,” the order to the officials was given.
"Don't … pl … please," Kat pleaded quietly, as she was easily picked up and thrown over the shoulder of a huge man, who in turn proceeded to climb a sturdy ladder propped against one side of the patibulum. He met another two colleagues when he reached the top rungs and the three of them manhandled Agent Novikova into position so that tight ropes could be tied around her arms and waist holding her in place.
“Please, no,” were Kat’s only other words as one of the men positioned the point of the iron spike at the palm of her hand.
“Impale her,” – “Nail the bitch,” Were the words uttered by the conjoined students as the fingers between the girl’s legs worked her harder. She felt her knees wobble and had to reach behind to hold the hips of the guy whose body was pressed hard into her own.
The sharpened iron indented the soft flesh of Kat’s delicate hand. Four men were now holding her in position, along with the ropes, as an arm raised the mallet to strike. The condemned girl wanted to close her eyes but for some reason she couldn't as the mallet head descended to strike the flat head of the spike driving it through her palm into the rough wood.
Blood spurted from the wound splattering the man’s hand. A bolt of excruciating agony shot through Kat’s arm, conveying a pain so intense that even four men and the ropes were finding it difficult to keep this beaten and broken girl still.
“Aiiiiiiiiii please, My God, help me!”
“Oh fuck, ohhhh yes, touch my clit, just like that ohhhhh fuck …” The dark-haired girl watching the scene unfold before her whilst being soundly fingered, was teetering on the brink of orgasmic bliss.
Kat writhed against the men’s firm hold on her as the iron penetrated her flesh passing between the second and third metacarpal bones wedging them aside to exit the back of her hand and find a home in the wood. A second blow from the mallet wedged the bones further apart creating an appalling agony. The Agent’s head fell and her chin brushed her chest as a third blow drove the spike's flat head flush against her palm. There was surprisingly little additional splatter for something so devastating to flesh, bone, and blood.
“I’m gonna cum, ohhhh fuck, do the other nail now, please!” The student girl quietly pleaded in undiscernible tones.
“Ohhhhhnghhhhhhhhhhhh!” Yelled Ekaterina as they did just that and secured her other hand in the same appallingly brutal manner.
“Ohhhhh fuckkkkkkkkkkkkk!” Gasped the girl with the long dark hair at that same moment as she came hard all over the guy’s hand. But as he began to remove his fingers from the warm, wet sanctuary, the male student felt a light grip on his arm.
“Keep going, do it again,” The girl implored him, for she had seen what was happening now.
One of the men had moved down his ladder a little and was nailing a wedge of wood to the upright Stipes. The top of the wedge was adorned with an extremely substantial rough wooden phallus.
“They’re going to sit her upon that …” The girl was virtually breathless as she pushed backwards into the renewed penetration of her pussy by the guy’s long fingers.
The phallus was shaped to a peak slanting down and outward to a base diameter of several inches.
“Look at the shape and size of it,” she whispered, “Will it even fit into her?” But as the female student uttered these words, she knew full well that they would make it fit!
The officers coated the phallus with lubricant, no doubt an act not of compassion but one designed to maximise the ‘entertainment’ value of Kat’s ‘performance’.
Now the Officer-In-Charge spoke again. “The use of the supporting attachment is hopefully obvious from its design. It is often referred to as a sedile or cornu, and is there to restrict the options available to the crucified for seeking relief. Pushing up to ease her breathing difficulties will cause tremendous pain, reverting her position will impede her breathing capacity and sink her fully onto the appendage …”
“Oh yes, ohhhh fucking yes …” The girl was beside herself and wanted desperately to fuck, but instead, knowing that they couldn’t do that, she slipped her own hand inside her jeans to help the guy take her quickly to the edge again!
The cross was ready, Kat’s hands had been nailed and the sedile was in place. They untied the ropes, placed the tip of the phallus shaped attachment at the centre of her anus and released the ropes.
She slid down and impaled herself entirely as expected.
"Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, Argghhhhhhhhhhh!” Kat found her voice but offered up nothing coherent, as she felt her ass attempting to stretch around the invading object. To assist matters, the crucified girl felt her ankles gripped and her body dragged downwards. The strong pull was accompanied by her cry of anguish as the sedile burst through her sphincter to pull the shaft tightly into her ass. The pain emanating from her unnaturally stretched rectum was more than just discomfort … it was a clear compounding of the extreme agony she was already experiencing.
Hands securely spiked and rectum filled to bursting point, layers of pain upon agony upon torment, sent a shock wave through Kat’s body that prompted the loudest scream she was capable of.
The yell acted as a complete cover for the student with the nubile figure, loose jeans and long dark hair as she was unable to supress a loud groan when the second orgasm hit her!
All of the officers had descended and the ladders taken away. Her terrible vignette was almost complete … almost. Kat looked down as a man placed a longer and thicker spike at the tarsals of her right foot, which was positioned on top of her left. He pressed the point into her flesh and a small well of blood appeared surrounding the puncture. She screamed as the point scratched against her exposed first and second metatarsal. The man with the spike looked up at Kat, smiled and then rubbed the point of the nail along the top of the metatarsal.
There is a certain body of thought that bone scraping is about the most painful torture ever devised and the feeling of that sharp metal point scrap over the surface of her foot was excruciating for poor Ekaterina.
She only had to endure a few moments before the Officer-In-Charge gestured for his man to get on with it. Kat gazed down once again to see the officer raise his arm then bring the mallet crashing down directly onto the head of the spike.
White spots of pain blinded Kat as he hammered the iron home. The sheer horror of the sensation of the sharp metal exiting the sole of her lower foot and entering the wood, drove Kat to the brink of insanity.
To Be Continued …
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Come on, Barb! I bet you've done that - many times!
I love this girl!
So glad to see them join in the spirit of the occasion!
Gawddd yesssss!!! She's not alone!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
I agree PrPr she is some girl!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Death by Crucifixion (7)
“Suffering.”
MI6 SIS Building, Lambeth, London, UK
Roger Moore smoothed The Times newspaper out onto the polished surface of his walnut desk. He sighed. Nothing had been heard from Agent Novikova for over 48 hours, and whilst Ekaterina had said that she would be ‘going dark’, it still made him nervous.
But Belarus was in the International headlines today and he slipped on his glasses so that he could read.
GORKI, /TASS/. “With regards to integrating the treasury at Minsk within the framework of the Union State, then, whilst it is mutually beneficial, it will be necessary to normalise the situation inside Belarus first,” Deputy Chairman of Russia’s Security Council Dmitry Medvedev told Russian mass media in an interview.
"As far as integration processes are concerned, I still assume that our common position is that integration [between Russia and Belaru]) is mutually beneficial, and that we should integrate more closely and unlock the whole potential of the Union State, including the elements of bringing our economies closer, integrating them on all types of issues, up to common currency," he said.
Meanwhile, Medvedev added that "… but now the situation there [in Belarus - TASS] is slightly different, so first it is necessary for them to stabilise the overall situation inside the country. However, I am confident that the integration movement should go ahead as there is no alternative," he noted.
"The Belarusian economy is fully geared towards the Russian economy, [Belarus] supplies much of its goods here [to Russia]," Deputy Chairman of the Security Council said, adding "this is why it is in the interests of the two countries to closely integrate the economies, take the most important regulation decisions."
His secure cell phone rang. It was the Foreign Secretary.
“Have you read the press today on the Belarusian issue?”
“Yes, Mister Foreign Secretary, I have and it gives me great cause for concern.”
“It should Roger, because we have reports from our sleepers in Minsk that a party of observers from Vitebsk State Medical University have been called to Pishchalauski Castle Prison, and as part of their study into the Medical pragmatics surrounding the Crucifixion of Christ, they have been invited to regard and report upon the crucifixion of a young Russian girl, who has been handed over by the SVR as a part of the currency deal.”
Moore felt sick to his stomach.
The Mound, Administration Block at Pishchalauski Castle Prison, Minsk, Belarus.
How long had it been? Had she slept? It didn't seem like it. How could she sleep when the pain never stops, always grows worse, constantly demanding a shifting of her body upon its nails.
First upwards, away from the sedile and then down to impale herself once more. Up. Then down. Each movement such agony that it stops the breath, blocks the voice, rends the mind!
Even those bastards watching her seemed restless and more than a little uncomfortable.
Kat ground her teeth. Hard! But it didn't help. Nothing helped.
Mother, Sister … her mind was becoming addled.
And the thirst! Building up. Drying her mouth. Cracking her lips. All she can think about is water. And the pain.
She prayed to God, but he was ignoring her.
Kat fought an exhausting and helpless battle to breathe when all she wanted to do was die … instead her body steadfastly retained an unwittingly conscious state.
Her eyes had closed for a second, a transition from real pain to illusionary pain and back. But that's all the relief she would get. Short lapses of consciousness before the body forced itself to rise and the inflamed nerves of bone and muscle screamed at her! Waking her up! Making her keenly alert, maddeningly aware of the agony!
Those bastards knew how to place the nails. Miss the arteries and veins. Hit the nerves. Minimal bleeding, maximum torment! The body will do the rest as it demands the right to breathe!
She hoped for madness to blunt her senses, send her adrift into delirium, a fantasy world where there is no pain or thirst. But madness wouldn't come.
Please let me die!
Weeping. Moaning. Praying. Shifting up. Shifting down. Simmering pain growing to white hot agony! Up again so her body can exhale. Down again to relieve the torment. Her back raw and haemorrhaging. Her hands and feet swelling angrily around the nails. Her tongue dry and swollen, her lips cracked and bleeding …
Through the heavy lids of her eyes, Kat saw the students being ushered further away, to a place not quite so close. An officer appeared at her feet with a bucket and a long pole. He stared up at her pussy for a while, then dipped a sponge into the bucket and attached it one end of the pole. He raised it up and touched it to her mouth.
Water! She lunged at it like a dog seizing a piece of meat, sucking desperately at it, leaning into it, pulling against the nails in spite of the pain! Until there was nothing left except the damp, vaguely salty taste of the sponge.
"More, please!" Her voice hardly audible. "Please!"
He laughed and moved off.
Her thirst slightly assuaged, she settled on the point of the sedile. She watched the flies and mosquitos accumulate on her body, drawn to the mixture of sweat and dried blood. Some were already at work burrowing into her exposed genitals. If she were not in so much pain elsewhere on her body, she would have been distressed at the many bites from these and other insects, and the stinging and the relentless itching left by their toxins. That she was helpless to discourage these tiny predators in any way was only part of her despair. If only she could die! Why wouldn't her body let her die?
But the pain kept her moving. Slowly up. Hold herself there to take some deep breaths until the agony soared beyond bearing. Then down for the infernal pain of the sedile in her ass. It was getting harder. Her strength was ebbing. She could no longer cry. Her eyes and mouth had dried as a part of her ravaging thirst.
It was hard to keep the insects out of her mouth as the poor girl’s efforts to exhale deteriorated to shallow grunts. She wept in bleak frustration, but there were no tears left and Kat realised that she was weakening fast. She could barely push herself up off the cruel point of the phallus, now lubricated by blood and secretions.
The endless up and down motion against the upright of the cross had torn much of the skin away from the rear of her body, coating the wood with her blood. Every new push against the nail in her feet was more painful than the last.
Another officer appeared.
"Hey, you, bitch!" he called up to her. "How'd you like some of this?" He dipped a cup into the bucket, raised it to his lips and sipped it noisily.
"Please," Kat croaked. "Water."
"Oh, you do want some?" He tipped his head back, lifted the cup over his mouth and let water fall into it. Then made a show of licking his lips.
"Please!" she begged in a broken whisper. "Please, have pity."
He watched her writhe for a while, mouth open, gasping, pleading with her eyes.
"You're a fucking mess. You know that?" He wrinkled his nose in exaggerated distaste as he moved the cup down to his groin. Yulia heard the sound of his piss filling the cup. When he had finished, he saluted her, immersed his sponge into container, before pushing it on the pole towards her lips. Without hesitation Ekaterina grabbed it with her teeth, drew it into her mouth and greedily sucked every drop of urine out of it.
Then begged for more.
Up. Down. Up. Down. Please let me die! Please.
Kat tried again to raise herself, but cannot. She's asphyxiating, struggling to exhale. Her arms and legs are numb, her vision blurred. The nails begin to feel distant. The group of observers is blurring.
But none of it matters any more. The pain is fading quickly. The suffering is over. Ekaterina had said goodbye to no-one. Not her parents, not her sister, nor her friends …
Her heart is doing desperate things to keep her alive. Stuttering its beat. Struggling to pump. But there's too little blood for it to work with.
Movement is impossible. She can't breathe.
The world sparkles in a gathering darkness.
Sounds swirl inward to a pinpoint.
Silence.
A blurred gloom.
Darkness.
A high-pitched buzzing.
Then noise. A commotion, but she cannot open her eyes to see.
Movement.
Men by her side and she is being pulled away. Hammers are clawing nails out of her body, but the barely alive girl is too numb to feel anymore pain …
Epilogue
The SAS had been deployed within the hour of Moore speaking with the Foreign Secretary. Russia had allowed two Gazelle AH1’s to fly in over Moscow and Smolensk, across the border and onto Minsk.
The President of the Russian Federation was appalled that such an atrocity could be going on so near to his borders and of course he would assist the poor girl’s recovery by allowing airspace. Whatever was happening in Minsk was nothing to do with Russia, and he, the President, was not aware of this unspeakable situation. The ultimate in plausible deniability.
The currency deal fell through. Belarus faced sanctions from the rest of the world, and even Russia had to back off for a little while.
The ‘Death by Crucifixion’ Programme was suspended and would never see the light of day again.
The girl with the long dark hair and the guy with the unkempt hair never did get to fuck.
Ekaterina Novikova was rescued at the eleventh hour, in just the nick of time. The Emergency Medical facilities on board the Gazelles kept her alive until they reached the UK, whereupon, under heavy security, she was immediately taken into the care of the excellent Wellington Hospital in St John’s Wood.
Roger Moore breathed a huge sigh of relief, whilst Comrade Colonel Tretykov seethed. He hadn’t known that his Agent had been ‘turned’. Yemanov, the handler, was recalled to Moscow and never heard of again. A similar fate befell Julian Sands, Head of Derivatives at the Bank of Moscow (see The Secrets that we Keep).
******
The Wellington Hospital, St John's Wood, London
Ekaterina had been comatose in the Intensive Care/High Dependency ward of the Wellington for two weeks when her eyes finally flickered open and she the faint outline of a benevolently smiling face appeared, looming over her.
“Hello my angel,” said the benevolent voice, in a warm comforting tone, “You’re back with us.”
Kat could barely see. Her mouth and throat had ceased to work, but she managed a weak smile … it was enough.
And so, the latest chapter in the adventurous life of Agent Ekaterina Novikova comes to a close. Doctors, nurses and surgeons, the best the UK has to offer will work on her, but how much of her sharp mind and beautiful body they can save remains to be seen.
But I am too attached to let Kat go now, and so both she and the writer will take a few weeks off to replenish the creative juices. What will be left of our gorgeous girl remains in the hands of the medics, but, in some way, shape or form … she will be back!
Thank you for your tremendous support, it is very, very much appreciated.
“Suffering.”
MI6 SIS Building, Lambeth, London, UK
Roger Moore smoothed The Times newspaper out onto the polished surface of his walnut desk. He sighed. Nothing had been heard from Agent Novikova for over 48 hours, and whilst Ekaterina had said that she would be ‘going dark’, it still made him nervous.
But Belarus was in the International headlines today and he slipped on his glasses so that he could read.
GORKI, /TASS/. “With regards to integrating the treasury at Minsk within the framework of the Union State, then, whilst it is mutually beneficial, it will be necessary to normalise the situation inside Belarus first,” Deputy Chairman of Russia’s Security Council Dmitry Medvedev told Russian mass media in an interview.
"As far as integration processes are concerned, I still assume that our common position is that integration [between Russia and Belaru]) is mutually beneficial, and that we should integrate more closely and unlock the whole potential of the Union State, including the elements of bringing our economies closer, integrating them on all types of issues, up to common currency," he said.
Meanwhile, Medvedev added that "… but now the situation there [in Belarus - TASS] is slightly different, so first it is necessary for them to stabilise the overall situation inside the country. However, I am confident that the integration movement should go ahead as there is no alternative," he noted.
"The Belarusian economy is fully geared towards the Russian economy, [Belarus] supplies much of its goods here [to Russia]," Deputy Chairman of the Security Council said, adding "this is why it is in the interests of the two countries to closely integrate the economies, take the most important regulation decisions."
His secure cell phone rang. It was the Foreign Secretary.
“Have you read the press today on the Belarusian issue?”
“Yes, Mister Foreign Secretary, I have and it gives me great cause for concern.”
“It should Roger, because we have reports from our sleepers in Minsk that a party of observers from Vitebsk State Medical University have been called to Pishchalauski Castle Prison, and as part of their study into the Medical pragmatics surrounding the Crucifixion of Christ, they have been invited to regard and report upon the crucifixion of a young Russian girl, who has been handed over by the SVR as a part of the currency deal.”
Moore felt sick to his stomach.
The Mound, Administration Block at Pishchalauski Castle Prison, Minsk, Belarus.
How long had it been? Had she slept? It didn't seem like it. How could she sleep when the pain never stops, always grows worse, constantly demanding a shifting of her body upon its nails.
First upwards, away from the sedile and then down to impale herself once more. Up. Then down. Each movement such agony that it stops the breath, blocks the voice, rends the mind!
Even those bastards watching her seemed restless and more than a little uncomfortable.
Kat ground her teeth. Hard! But it didn't help. Nothing helped.
Mother, Sister … her mind was becoming addled.
And the thirst! Building up. Drying her mouth. Cracking her lips. All she can think about is water. And the pain.
She prayed to God, but he was ignoring her.
Kat fought an exhausting and helpless battle to breathe when all she wanted to do was die … instead her body steadfastly retained an unwittingly conscious state.
Her eyes had closed for a second, a transition from real pain to illusionary pain and back. But that's all the relief she would get. Short lapses of consciousness before the body forced itself to rise and the inflamed nerves of bone and muscle screamed at her! Waking her up! Making her keenly alert, maddeningly aware of the agony!
Those bastards knew how to place the nails. Miss the arteries and veins. Hit the nerves. Minimal bleeding, maximum torment! The body will do the rest as it demands the right to breathe!
She hoped for madness to blunt her senses, send her adrift into delirium, a fantasy world where there is no pain or thirst. But madness wouldn't come.
Please let me die!
Weeping. Moaning. Praying. Shifting up. Shifting down. Simmering pain growing to white hot agony! Up again so her body can exhale. Down again to relieve the torment. Her back raw and haemorrhaging. Her hands and feet swelling angrily around the nails. Her tongue dry and swollen, her lips cracked and bleeding …
Through the heavy lids of her eyes, Kat saw the students being ushered further away, to a place not quite so close. An officer appeared at her feet with a bucket and a long pole. He stared up at her pussy for a while, then dipped a sponge into the bucket and attached it one end of the pole. He raised it up and touched it to her mouth.
Water! She lunged at it like a dog seizing a piece of meat, sucking desperately at it, leaning into it, pulling against the nails in spite of the pain! Until there was nothing left except the damp, vaguely salty taste of the sponge.
"More, please!" Her voice hardly audible. "Please!"
He laughed and moved off.
Her thirst slightly assuaged, she settled on the point of the sedile. She watched the flies and mosquitos accumulate on her body, drawn to the mixture of sweat and dried blood. Some were already at work burrowing into her exposed genitals. If she were not in so much pain elsewhere on her body, she would have been distressed at the many bites from these and other insects, and the stinging and the relentless itching left by their toxins. That she was helpless to discourage these tiny predators in any way was only part of her despair. If only she could die! Why wouldn't her body let her die?
But the pain kept her moving. Slowly up. Hold herself there to take some deep breaths until the agony soared beyond bearing. Then down for the infernal pain of the sedile in her ass. It was getting harder. Her strength was ebbing. She could no longer cry. Her eyes and mouth had dried as a part of her ravaging thirst.
It was hard to keep the insects out of her mouth as the poor girl’s efforts to exhale deteriorated to shallow grunts. She wept in bleak frustration, but there were no tears left and Kat realised that she was weakening fast. She could barely push herself up off the cruel point of the phallus, now lubricated by blood and secretions.
The endless up and down motion against the upright of the cross had torn much of the skin away from the rear of her body, coating the wood with her blood. Every new push against the nail in her feet was more painful than the last.
Another officer appeared.
"Hey, you, bitch!" he called up to her. "How'd you like some of this?" He dipped a cup into the bucket, raised it to his lips and sipped it noisily.
"Please," Kat croaked. "Water."
"Oh, you do want some?" He tipped his head back, lifted the cup over his mouth and let water fall into it. Then made a show of licking his lips.
"Please!" she begged in a broken whisper. "Please, have pity."
He watched her writhe for a while, mouth open, gasping, pleading with her eyes.
"You're a fucking mess. You know that?" He wrinkled his nose in exaggerated distaste as he moved the cup down to his groin. Yulia heard the sound of his piss filling the cup. When he had finished, he saluted her, immersed his sponge into container, before pushing it on the pole towards her lips. Without hesitation Ekaterina grabbed it with her teeth, drew it into her mouth and greedily sucked every drop of urine out of it.
Then begged for more.
Up. Down. Up. Down. Please let me die! Please.
Kat tried again to raise herself, but cannot. She's asphyxiating, struggling to exhale. Her arms and legs are numb, her vision blurred. The nails begin to feel distant. The group of observers is blurring.
But none of it matters any more. The pain is fading quickly. The suffering is over. Ekaterina had said goodbye to no-one. Not her parents, not her sister, nor her friends …
Her heart is doing desperate things to keep her alive. Stuttering its beat. Struggling to pump. But there's too little blood for it to work with.
Movement is impossible. She can't breathe.
The world sparkles in a gathering darkness.
Sounds swirl inward to a pinpoint.
Silence.
A blurred gloom.
Darkness.
A high-pitched buzzing.
Then noise. A commotion, but she cannot open her eyes to see.
Movement.
Men by her side and she is being pulled away. Hammers are clawing nails out of her body, but the barely alive girl is too numb to feel anymore pain …
Epilogue
The SAS had been deployed within the hour of Moore speaking with the Foreign Secretary. Russia had allowed two Gazelle AH1’s to fly in over Moscow and Smolensk, across the border and onto Minsk.
The President of the Russian Federation was appalled that such an atrocity could be going on so near to his borders and of course he would assist the poor girl’s recovery by allowing airspace. Whatever was happening in Minsk was nothing to do with Russia, and he, the President, was not aware of this unspeakable situation. The ultimate in plausible deniability.
The currency deal fell through. Belarus faced sanctions from the rest of the world, and even Russia had to back off for a little while.
The ‘Death by Crucifixion’ Programme was suspended and would never see the light of day again.
The girl with the long dark hair and the guy with the unkempt hair never did get to fuck.
Ekaterina Novikova was rescued at the eleventh hour, in just the nick of time. The Emergency Medical facilities on board the Gazelles kept her alive until they reached the UK, whereupon, under heavy security, she was immediately taken into the care of the excellent Wellington Hospital in St John’s Wood.
Roger Moore breathed a huge sigh of relief, whilst Comrade Colonel Tretykov seethed. He hadn’t known that his Agent had been ‘turned’. Yemanov, the handler, was recalled to Moscow and never heard of again. A similar fate befell Julian Sands, Head of Derivatives at the Bank of Moscow (see The Secrets that we Keep).
******
The Wellington Hospital, St John's Wood, London
Ekaterina had been comatose in the Intensive Care/High Dependency ward of the Wellington for two weeks when her eyes finally flickered open and she the faint outline of a benevolently smiling face appeared, looming over her.
“Hello my angel,” said the benevolent voice, in a warm comforting tone, “You’re back with us.”
Kat could barely see. Her mouth and throat had ceased to work, but she managed a weak smile … it was enough.
FIN
And so, the latest chapter in the adventurous life of Agent Ekaterina Novikova comes to a close. Doctors, nurses and surgeons, the best the UK has to offer will work on her, but how much of her sharp mind and beautiful body they can save remains to be seen.
But I am too attached to let Kat go now, and so both she and the writer will take a few weeks off to replenish the creative juices. What will be left of our gorgeous girl remains in the hands of the medics, but, in some way, shape or form … she will be back!
Thank you for your tremendous support, it is very, very much appreciated.
Ted Parry
Governor
Couldn't have put it better myself ... One might even say that Fossy "hit the nail on the head"
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
What a surprise. I never thought you would spare her at this point! Plausibility is somewhat stretched, but we are glad to go along with it.
But you know what I can't accept! You know what really pisses me off!
But you know what I can't accept! You know what really pisses me off!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
I am hoping the readers will allow me a little break for dramatic license. We all, on CF, like to see our nubile, naked heroines tortured almost to death, only to survive so that they can suffer another day, and I'm no exception ...What a surprise. I never thought you would spare her at this point! Plausibility is somewhat stretched, but we are glad to go along with it.
But you know what I can't accept! You know what really pisses me off!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
SEXPIONAGE IN THE ARCHIVE
Thanks to @Madiosi for his expedient work in posting them live, the books Sexpionage 8-11 are now available form the wonderful CF Archive . If you get chance please take a look. The actual links are below;
Sensual Siren - Sexpionage 8
https://www.cruxforums.com/xf/resources/sexpionage-8-sensual-siren-by-fossy.852/
Government Plaything - Sexpionage 9
https://www.cruxforums.com/xf/resources/sexpionage-9-government-plaything-by-fossy.853/
The Secrets We Keep - Sexpionage 10
https://www.cruxforums.com/xf/resources/sexpionage-10-the-secrets-we-keep-by-fossy.854/
Death By Crucifixion - Sexpionage 11
https://www.cruxforums.com/xf/resources/sexpionage-11-death-by-crucifixion-by-fossy.855/
Thanks to @Madiosi for his expedient work in posting them live, the books Sexpionage 8-11 are now available form the wonderful CF Archive . If you get chance please take a look. The actual links are below;
Sensual Siren - Sexpionage 8
https://www.cruxforums.com/xf/resources/sexpionage-8-sensual-siren-by-fossy.852/
Government Plaything - Sexpionage 9
https://www.cruxforums.com/xf/resources/sexpionage-9-government-plaything-by-fossy.853/
The Secrets We Keep - Sexpionage 10
https://www.cruxforums.com/xf/resources/sexpionage-10-the-secrets-we-keep-by-fossy.854/
Death By Crucifixion - Sexpionage 11
https://www.cruxforums.com/xf/resources/sexpionage-11-death-by-crucifixion-by-fossy.855/
Last edited by a moderator:
JJ Shriek
Spectator
Yes, of course, Xyulo - wanted by criminal international court in The Hague, all so white and fluffy, is indignant at the terrible lawlessness in Belarus. This poisonous dwarf, which poison its own and foreign citizens with battle poisons? Yes, this bastard will most likely ask his friend Lukashenko to send him a personalized gold flash drive with a record of the execution! This bastard ordered to shell the peaceful city of Mariupol from the Grad multiple launch rocket systems, and you attribute such philanthropy to him! He wanted to shit at everyone in his bunker!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Despite the story being one of complete fiction, the underlying possibility of currency integration between Russia and Belarus was real. My intention was not to be overtly politically contentious, but equally In my narrative, Xyulo - wanted by criminal international court in The Hague was deemed to be denying something that he had in fact ordered.
It wasn't clear from your words my friend whether or not, not withstanding the underpinning subtext, you enjoyed the story. I hope that you did.