3. Marcella is caned
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Scorpianus orders that the soldiers use 'gentle' torture, as befits a woman who will need to still be in pretty good shape for the cross.
He points towards a table where a large assortment of torture instruments are laid.
"Use the cane on her - twenty strokes!", he orders
After her arms are tied behind her back, the naked
@Marcella is then tied with her back against a tall and sturdy wooden post in the middle of the colonnaded courtyard.
Her naked body rubs against the rough, splintered wood. Her nipples are erect in anticipation of what is about to happen.
The assembled cohort waits.
The whipping is vicious - Rufus the flogger has lost one of his comrades in an ambush planned by Marcella, and naturally he puts his heart into it.
Using a long willow cane, he beats the rebel on her stomach and targets especially her nipples.
Red welts appear on the rebel's light skin, with a trickle of blood here and there.
Marcella gasps and struggles against her bonds. Her contortions and cries of pain ogle the men. Some start rubbing their crotch, urging Rufus to whip her harder.
Scorpianus watches the woman's agony from a distance. His visage is expressionless.
“. . . and is sentenced . . . to be crucified!”
The last words Marcella hears as the soldiers tear away her remaining flimsy garments. Now she is completely naked in front of them. She’s a woman condemned to death in the most horrible manner. What else did the procurator say? Something about being caned? What’s that? Doesn’t sound as bad to Marcella as being whipped – or scourged. The flagellum would tear her flesh to shreds. A caning doesn’t sound nearly as bad. But what does she know?
All the other words of the procurator and the voices of the soldiers holding her in custody are just part of a roaring sound in her ears. Despite trying not to show fear as she faces her horrible death sentence she is nonetheless unnerved by her utter nakedness and condemnation. She slumps and bends over, her ample breasts dangling from her chest as the soldiers hustle her out into the courtyard.
In a terrified, halting voice she pleads with the soldiers dragging her along the pavement. “Please, please, don't do this. I was just a soldier protecting my people and land. Give me a quick, honorable death, befitting a warrior. Not this. No! Please not this, not this!”
“Do you hear this cunt, mate,” asks one of the soldiers restraining Marcella to another next to him. “She wants mercy. This cunt wants mercy from us. But she ain’t gonna get no fucking mercy now, is she?”
“Fuck no,” shouts a third soldier. “This bitch is a fucking rebel, no soldier at all. No damn ‘warrior’ for sure. Just some fucking gash what’s about to get crucified! Yessir! Crucified!”
Another laughs and shouts in Marcella’s face. “You’re just a cunt bitch what’s killed lots of our mates, you are. No mercy for you, bitch. No fucking mercy at all. You’re gonna fucking suffer long and hard, you are. Feel the bite of them nails for a long time.”
An ugly man with a deeply scarred face grabs Marcella’s hair and pulls her head up to stare in her terrified face. “Damn, you’re a pretty thing, ain’t you? You’ll look real good hanging nailed on a cross, tits and pussy all out for everyone to see. Just the right punishment for you!” He points to his scarred face. “See these scars. See 'em bitch! I ain’t so pretty no more thanks to you rebels. Fucking wounds damned near killed me. The medicus had to cut away dead flesh to save my life. Know what that feels like? Huh? I lost comrades, too, good men all. You’re gonna pay for their deaths!”
Just then a decurion steps forward, pushing his way through the throng of men, taking charge of the situation. He intends to restore order before things get out of control. An attractive naked woman handed over to soldiers to be tortured and crucified could turn very violent and maybe even get the condemned woman seriously injured or killed before she’s ever crucified. The decurion doesn’t want a dead or nearly dead body nailed to a cross, but a healthy live one able to endure the horrific agony of crucifixion for a at least a day or more. He'll let the men have their fun with her, as is their due, but only up to a point. This young woman looks strong and healthy. It’s clear to him she’ll last a long time on the cross. It’s just the punishment she deserves. He stares at her slim, well-endowed, smoothly muscled figure. Quite a looker too. She’ll draw a crowd for sure. But first, the preliminaries. Starting with a caning as directed by the procurator.
“Over to the post with her,” he shouts in a commanding voice that snaps the soldiers’ heads around at the sound of his authority over them. “Tits facing front, arms behind. C’mon now boys. Be quick about it.”
The soldiers do as ordered, pushing Marcella’s back against the rough wood and pulling her arms behind the post. The hard, splintery wood scrapes her back as her wrists are tightly tied. She winces and grunts with the sudden pain.
“Oh, does that hurt, my dear,” says with the soldier with the scarred faced, grinning mockingly at Marcella’s discomfort and humiliation. Summoning her courage, she stands erect, her feet in a stance that hardly conceals her pussy. Her trembling breasts stand proud on her heaving chest, their nipples tumescent in the middle of brown, round areolas. Marcella holds her head high and stares straight ahead, beyond the face of the scarred man leering at her, beyond the heads of the other men staring at her to the columns around the courtyard, stoically waiting for the torture to come.
I want to be brave, want to be brave . . .
Then a bare-chested heavily muscled man holding a long supple willow cane appears before her eyes. His eyes blaze with hatred and contempt. Fresh terror sweeps through Marcella’s body. She tries to twist her body away, but she’s too tightly held to the post. She must face him, naked and defenseless. He swishes the cane back and forth through the air in front of her. She hears the snapping sound it makes and feels nausea growing in the pit of her stomach. She understands it's gonna hurt plenty when it meets her flesh.
“Give it to her now, Rufus,” shouts someone from the crowd. "Yeah, warm them titties up," shouts another.
“Such lovely tits,” says Rufus, the flogger, in a menacing low growl as he grabs a handful of her soft flesh and squeezes it, rolling the nipple between his hard fingers. “Perfect, flawless.”
Humiliated, Marcella turns her head to the side, not wanting to look at this cruel beast. He releases her breast, then squeezes and massages the other with his massive hand before stepping back, his cane carelessly whipping through the air. Trembling, she knows her breasts are about to receive a lashing. But before she can set herself to receive the first blow Rufus suddenly wheels around and viciously strikes the cane across her belly. Marcella screams in agony from the white-hot pain it delivers to her flesh -- like a line of burning fire. She gasps for breath, suddenly drenched in sweat and shaking in terror and searing pain. Choking back vomit, she sees the flogger’s arm go back for another blow that again slices across her belly adding another line of scorching agony to her flesh. Strike after strike lands on her belly and abdomen, working their way up to her breasts and nipples that are soon crisscrossed with deep red burning welts oozing blood.
At some point Marcella can no longer scream, only grunt under the relentless assault. She feels a warm splattering of piss between her legs then loses consciousness as the final blows are delivered.
