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some own work by thecuriousone
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- female crucifixion
thecuriousone
Tribune
Lately profits have been going down. The management announced that end of the month the employee with the worst performance would be crucified.
She missed the deadline, resulting in losing a major customer. When the cross was erected and she was tied to it, she was still giggling, thinking of it as a joke. She did not know that one of her junior colleages, one that is eager for promotion, has been sent to the toolshop to get a hammer and nails.
She missed the deadline, resulting in losing a major customer. When the cross was erected and she was tied to it, she was still giggling, thinking of it as a joke. She did not know that one of her junior colleages, one that is eager for promotion, has been sent to the toolshop to get a hammer and nails.
Attachments
thecuriousone
Tribune
This cop stumbled by accident on our meth lab. Mick had her under control at gunpoint before she could call for backup. She tried to be the strong women, not showing her pain when we nailed her to a cross. When we started laying our drill, meathooks and chainsaw on the table before her, her eyes started to show how scared she actually was.
Attachments
thecuriousone
Tribune
...and she believed them?!?!?!
thecuriousone
Tribune
Some women are so naive....
thecuriousone
Tribune
thecuriousone
Tribune
I wrote a story, still quite short but my longest so far. About a woman that chooses to crucify herself with a machine. With a pic that belongs to the story.
The crucifying machine in the park
in the park just south of to the city centre there is a machine for people that wish to end their life. It nails volunteers to a cross and hoists them high in the air, where they suffer for days while countless people watch them while they relax in the park. Most people don't understand why, but sometimes someone puts it to use. At the first monday of each month, the remains of crucyfied people, if any, are taken from their crosses and incinerated by the local authoritties. Until that time, bodies would be on display on their cross ten meters above the central square in the park.
One sunny afternoon, Mia sat on a bench in the park, her gaze fixated on the peculiar device that seemed to be a spectacle. The machine was a bizarre contraption; a wooden cross mounted on a sturdy steel pole. It had sturdy metal cuffs in open position, as if they were inviting you to put your limb in them. Various mechanics were connected to the cuffs, their purpose not clear to Mia. She had always been fascinated by it, but she never quite understood the purpose.
Only a couple of weeks ago Mia had moved to this city, after getting an office job that was completely unsatisfying. But the bills had to be paid, so she reluctantly endured the stress, the workload, and the constant negative feedback from her boss.
As Mia watched, a young woman approached the machine, her eyes full of resolution. She stepped out of her dress revealing a stunningly beautiful body, climbed onto the stainless steel cross, and placed her hands and feet against the automatic cuffs.
"This is it," the woman whispered to herself, her voice trembling with both fear and determination. The crowd had gathered in hushed whispers, their eyes fixed on her as if she were some kind of exotic beast. Mia couldn't help but feel a mix of sadness and curiosity as she observed the scene unfold.
With a final, deep breath, the young woman closed her eyes, her hands and feet clenching against the cold metal of the cuffs. A few moments later, the machine sprang to life with a low hum, and her body suddenly jerked off the cross, her arms and legs straightening and locked into place. Then the nails were driven into her hands and feet, and she was lifted high into the air. Her screams echoed through the park, but they were quickly drowned out by the murmur of the crowd.
Mia couldn't look away, her curiosity turning into a morbid fascination. She watched as the young woman writhed in agony, her body strung up as if crucified. The hydraulic rams worked in unison, raising her higher and higher into the sky.
While the afternoon turned into evening, the young woman's screams grew fainter, and her body began to show signs of fatigue. But still, she endured, her eyes closed tight and her body trembling.
Even with all her whits Mia couldn't understand the reason behind this bizarre spectacle, but she couldn't tear herself away. She sat there, watching as the young woman's torment continued, her eyes fixed on the peculiar view.
Mia had to leave the park eventually, as the sun began to set and darkness enveloped the city, but she couldn't shake the feeling that this machine, and the woman's painful ordeal, would haunt her dreams for days to come. The sight of the girl's suffering and the casual indifference of the crowd that gathered to watch her grapple with her demons left Mia with a profound sense of disillusionment.
As she walked away from the park, the city began to seem stranger and more alien to her. The people bustling around her seemed to have a darkness in their eyes, a hidden pain that they could not escape. It was as if the machine in the park had somehow revealed the true nature of the world, and Mia was left questioning everything she had ever known.
The next day Mia passed the park early morning, when going to work. She could not resist to make a short detour, to visit the machine. Almost no people were around, just someone walking his dog, oblivious of what had happened the day before. To her surprise, the woman still hung on the cross, seemingly lifeless. Mia approached to take a closer look. Suddenly, the woman opened her eyes.
"Are you okay?" Mia asked cautiously, her voice barely audible as she moved closer to the woman. The woman didn't respond, but she gave Mia a faint smile. There was something in her eyes that Mia couldn't quite place. It was a mixture of pain, determination, and deep sadness. “Why did you do this?”
“I've lived a life of suffering and despair. This isn't an easy decision, but I've had enough. I chose this because I wanted to take control of my final moments. The crowd, the pain...it's all part of my journey. I don't expect you to understand, but I wanted to do this in a way that was...public. A statement, perhaps. To show that even in our darkest moments, we can still find the strength to endure."
Mia couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had been so affected by the spectacle that she had never stop to consider the woman's perspective. The woman's determination and resilience were both terrifying and admirable.
"I don't know if I can accept this," Mia said, her voice quivering. "But I won't just walk away from you. Will you do something for me? That you'll tell me your name, so I can pray for you?"
The woman's smile grew a little more genuine as she replied, "My name is Adria. I know it might be hard for you to understand, but I appreciate your concern. Please, just remember that we all have our own battles to fight, and sometimes, the ones we fight might not be visible to those around us." Mia nodded solemnly, feeling a strange sense of connection to this woman she had just met. She took one last look at Adria before turning to leave the park, feeling changed by the encounter. As she walked away, she couldn't shake the thought of Adria hanging on the cross, enduring her painful ordeal in a way that seemed so foreign to her own life.
Over the next few days, Mia found herself returning to the park to check on Adria. Every time, she was surprised to see her still hanging there, her body pale and weak but her spirit unbroken. She never spoke to Mia, but their silent connection grew stronger with each passing day.
One morning, as Mia approached the park, she saw something that made her heart skip a beat. Adria's body was limp, and her eyes were closed. She had not moved in hours. Fear and panic filled Mia's chest. She raced to the base of the contraption, her hands shaking hoped against all odds to see a sign of life. There was none.
As Mia stood there, her heart heavy with sadness, she couldn't help but feel a sense of closure. She had come to understand the woman's reason for choosing such an extreme method of ending her life, even if she couldn't fully comprehend it.
As Mia watched the crowd go about their business, seemingly oblivious to what had happened, she felt a sense of disconnect. She couldn't help but wonder how they could not care at about Adria’s fate.
Mia stood there for a while, watching the world go by, feeling like an outsider in this strange city. She couldn't shake the feeling that the world had changed. She turned to leave, feeling like she needed to go back to her own life but also feeling the weight of Adria's story and her own disillusionment.
As Mia left the park, she didn't know what to think. She had never witnessed anything quite like it. She felt like she had been given a glimpse into a world she had never seen before, a world of pain and suffering that was hidden beneath the surface. She couldn't help but feel like she had been forever changed by her encounter with Adria.
In the days that followed, Mia found herself thinking about Adria a lot. She couldn't stop wondering why someone would want to subject themselves to such pain and suffering in order to find some sort of release.
But also she wondered what it would feel like to do the same herself.
As the days passed, Mia found herself returning to the park more frequently, drawn to the spot where Adria had hung. Each time, she hoped to see some sign of movement from the still figure. But it remained as she had left it, a silent reminder of the brutal spectacle she had witnessed.
Mia tried to push the thoughts of Adria from her mind, but they continued to haunt her. She found herself sneaking glances at strangers, wondering if they too were hiding a secret pain. She began to see the world in a new light, one where the facade of normalcy concealed a multitude of suffering. Again and again she thought about using the machine to crucify herself.
Summer turned into autumn, followed by a dark, unpleasant winter until the springtime came. Mia's job drained her, as the bitch that somehow obtained the right to call herself boss found again and again new ways to make Mia and other people feel useless. The dark thoughts of self-inflicted suffering kept on creeping back into her mind. Every evening, she found herself walking past the park and couldn't resist the urge to visit the machine, hoping to find some solace.
However, she was unable to shake them off. Instead, the dreams became only stronger every day until she could not think about anything else any more. She couldn't stop considering how it would be if she could just end the pain and suffering she felt inside. And yet, she also felt a sense of fascination with the machine, as if it represented a way out of the darkness that she couldn't escape.
One day, as she was sitting in her office, Mia found herself daydreaming about the machine and Adria. She imagined herself lying on the cold metal surface, the ropes pulling tight around her wrists and ankles. The pain would be excruciating, but the sensation of being lifted high into the sky would be exhilarating.
As her thoughts became more vivid, Mia found herself logging out, getting up and telling her boss: Ï don’t feel well, miss Walker. I better take the day off and go home to take some sleep.” A very unfriendly remark about her attitude from her boss, but it did not touch her any more. She was already underway out of the office.
Mia was glad to leave her office and found herself taking the long way towards the park where she had witnessed Adria's crucifixion. She was resolved to get herself crucified. There it was, dominating the square in the middle of the park. Her looming doom.
As Mia approached the machine, she felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. It was as if this was her destiny, and there was no turning back. She could hear the voices of those around her, but they seemed distant, as if they were speaking from a different world.
With determination in her eyes, Mia discarded her clothes, stepped onto the machine that would be her destruction, and placed herself into the indicated position. She could feel the cold steel restraints at the back of her hands, but the sensation only fueled her desire to experience the pain and suffering that Adria had endured.
As the restraints tightened with a loud click, readjusting her limbs to fit exactly in the restraints with irresistable power, she felt a strange sense of exhilaration and release. For the first time in what felt like forever, she was taking control of her life, her fate. She felt a rush of energy coursing through her veins as she struggled against the unrelenting metal cuffs, twisting and turning and somehow feeling just right.
A crowd had gathered around the machine, murmuring and whispering among themselves. Mia could hear them, but she refused to acknowledge them. She focused on her goal, her determination unwavering.
It was then, as she felt the nails penetrate her skin with another loud click, and the cross started to raise upwards, that she experienced a sense of euphoria. The pain was intense, but it was a pain she chose, a pain she controlled. It was difficult to breathe, but she felt as if she were free while restrained, as if she were finally escaping the darkness that had consumed her.
As her body hung there, she closed her eyes and let go. She was no longer Mia, she was just a spectacle, a statement, a reminder that even in our darkest moments, we can find the strength to endure, to fight, to make a choice.
When the cross was raised in the air the crowd watched in awe, some horrified, some fascinated. Some recording everything on their phones. But Mia’s connection with them was gone. They meant nothing to her any more. She didn't care that she would be all over social media. She was free. She would never have to face the pain and suffering of this world again. She was joining Adria in a place where there was no more darkness, only light.
That evening there was a performance at a stage on the other side of the park. She could hear the music in the distance, and see the people dancing and being happy. It was chilly, and she was high enough in the air to be fully exposed, and feel the cold wind drain all warmth from her exposed body.
As Mia hung there, her body growing colder and limp, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. She had finally overcome the darkness that had consumed her for so long. The world below seemed distant and unimportant now – a place where people danced and laughed, while she soared above it all, in pain but also free from her pain.
Mia's spirit soared, her mind filled with images of Adria's crucifixion. She had shown her how to find the strength to endure, to fight, and to make a choice – even if it meant taking her own life. In that moment, Mia knew it was the only way she could truly escape the torment that had plagued her for so long.
The crowd below began to disperse,leaving behind just some rubble, empty beer cans, and the occasional homeless junkie finding a spot to use his means to escape from the real world.
As the night wore on, Mia's body began to lose feeling. Her fingers and toes tingled, then numbed, and she became overwhelmingly tired. But she could not rest, she had to lift her body up again and again to make breathing easier.
She closed her eyes for some time, and when she opened them she noticed the sun began to rise. Maybe just a normal sunrise, but for Mia it was the most beautiful spectacle. She knew that she would possibly not see another sunrise. Mia's body grew colder still. Her skin felt like it was made of ice, and her breaths came faster and shallower. She wondered how long it would take, before her time would be up.
Down below in the park, the day started, Cleaners collected the trash from the day before, people walked their dogs and the junkies left to hassle some money to score another hit. the sun became warmer, a promising spring day. Some birds sang from the trees, occasionally landing in the grass to pick something to eat. Once, a dove landed on the cross. Mia wanted to touch it. So close, but, restrained as Mia was, so far out of reach.
For a while, Mia let herself drift in that place between life and death. The sun continued its ascent, gaining in strength and warming her up. As the world below slowly came back to life, she remained suspended, a silent witness to the cycle of life and death that unfolded around her.
The doves continued to cricle around the cross, their wings sometimes brushing against her icy skin. She tried to reach out to them, to touch their softness and warmth. But it was an impossible task, one she knew she would never be able to complete.
As the morning wore on, it became hotter and hotter. Her pale skin was fully exposed to the mercyless sunbeams, no sunblock to protect her. After a couple of hours her skin felt like it was on fire, but she was determined to make it through the day. Something was adding to her lack of comfort, the more and more urgent need to pee. There was only one resolve, just let it go. She heard someone shouting: “Look at her, she peed herself!” Now she felt utterly humiliated.
In the evening her skin was red as a lobster, her throat was like leather from dehydration and she had no feeling at all in her arms anymore.
Suddenly she heard a voice she recognized from below. It was her boss, the horrible Miss Walker. “So here you are Mia. Now I know why you did not show up at work. And it is so difficult nowadays to hire competent people. Not that you were competent by the way. Anyway, you’re fired, Mia. I think you will not be able to clear out your desk in person, so I will do that for you tomorrow. Have a great night on your cross and goodbye Mia.
Mia wanted to shout some insults towards her heartless boss, but, dehydrated as she was, her voice refused.
She mustered the last of her strength to utter a final, hoarse retort. "Adria, wherever you are, I hope you're proud of me." With that, she closed her eyes and let the sun's rays wash over her, ready to surrender to the inevitable.
As the night fell over the park, Mia's body slowly grew colder, her breaths shallow and weak. The birds had long since departed for the safety of their nests, leaving behind only the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze.
In the distance, the sound of laughter and music from the bars nearby could still faintly be heard, but it was muted now, as if muffled by a thick veil of mist. Mia's spirit, too, felt distant and remote, drifting away from the world below like a ghost.
Then she heard a familiar voice again. “Mia! Is that you??? What are you doing up there.” It was her best friend Jenny. Mia tried to say something, but could not. She just looked at Jenny, standing below her cross hand in hand with the man she was currently dating. “Why did you do this?” Jenny looked sad. “It’s too late now. I hope you don’t suffer too much. Farewell Mia.” With tears in her eyes, Jenny turned around and walked off with her lover.
In that moment, Mia felt a deep sadness wash over her, knowing that her friend would never understand. She could only watch helplessly as Jenny disappeared from her sight, becoming just another speck in the distance.
The cool night air began to replace the heat of the day, and Mia's body grew colder still. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift, thinking of all the times she and Jenny had shared, the laughter, the tears, and the pain. In her mind's eye, she saw Jenny's face one last time, etched with sadness and confusion as she turned away.
As Mia swayed on the cross, the crowd below slowly thinned out, leaving only a few remaining onlookers. They whispered to one another, trying to make sense of what they had witnessed. Some were visibly shaken, while others simply turned away, their curiosity sated.
In the quietness of the deserted park, Mia’s body swayed on her cross in the cold wind, but she barely noticed anything anymore. The night was just a haze to her mind.
She opened her eyes and noticed that she had survived another night, it was morning again. Her mind drifted away again. Then she heard wings flapping. A crow has landed on her shoulder. She was too weak to try to chase it away. It started picking at her eyes. Mia tried to swipe at the crow, but her weakened arms could not escape the restraints. The pain from the pecking was overwhelming, but her tired body couldn't bring herself to struggle.
She remained suspended, a blinded, silent witness to the new day as another crow landed on her and started tearing a piece of her flesh. She hoped for it all to end soon.
Let it end.
Let it end.
......
During the day several crows picked at her, mutilating her dying body. By the evening she was unrecognizable. But she did not notice any more. She was together with Adria in the next world.
The crucifying machine in the park
in the park just south of to the city centre there is a machine for people that wish to end their life. It nails volunteers to a cross and hoists them high in the air, where they suffer for days while countless people watch them while they relax in the park. Most people don't understand why, but sometimes someone puts it to use. At the first monday of each month, the remains of crucyfied people, if any, are taken from their crosses and incinerated by the local authoritties. Until that time, bodies would be on display on their cross ten meters above the central square in the park.
One sunny afternoon, Mia sat on a bench in the park, her gaze fixated on the peculiar device that seemed to be a spectacle. The machine was a bizarre contraption; a wooden cross mounted on a sturdy steel pole. It had sturdy metal cuffs in open position, as if they were inviting you to put your limb in them. Various mechanics were connected to the cuffs, their purpose not clear to Mia. She had always been fascinated by it, but she never quite understood the purpose.
Only a couple of weeks ago Mia had moved to this city, after getting an office job that was completely unsatisfying. But the bills had to be paid, so she reluctantly endured the stress, the workload, and the constant negative feedback from her boss.
As Mia watched, a young woman approached the machine, her eyes full of resolution. She stepped out of her dress revealing a stunningly beautiful body, climbed onto the stainless steel cross, and placed her hands and feet against the automatic cuffs.
"This is it," the woman whispered to herself, her voice trembling with both fear and determination. The crowd had gathered in hushed whispers, their eyes fixed on her as if she were some kind of exotic beast. Mia couldn't help but feel a mix of sadness and curiosity as she observed the scene unfold.
With a final, deep breath, the young woman closed her eyes, her hands and feet clenching against the cold metal of the cuffs. A few moments later, the machine sprang to life with a low hum, and her body suddenly jerked off the cross, her arms and legs straightening and locked into place. Then the nails were driven into her hands and feet, and she was lifted high into the air. Her screams echoed through the park, but they were quickly drowned out by the murmur of the crowd.
Mia couldn't look away, her curiosity turning into a morbid fascination. She watched as the young woman writhed in agony, her body strung up as if crucified. The hydraulic rams worked in unison, raising her higher and higher into the sky.
While the afternoon turned into evening, the young woman's screams grew fainter, and her body began to show signs of fatigue. But still, she endured, her eyes closed tight and her body trembling.
Even with all her whits Mia couldn't understand the reason behind this bizarre spectacle, but she couldn't tear herself away. She sat there, watching as the young woman's torment continued, her eyes fixed on the peculiar view.
Mia had to leave the park eventually, as the sun began to set and darkness enveloped the city, but she couldn't shake the feeling that this machine, and the woman's painful ordeal, would haunt her dreams for days to come. The sight of the girl's suffering and the casual indifference of the crowd that gathered to watch her grapple with her demons left Mia with a profound sense of disillusionment.
As she walked away from the park, the city began to seem stranger and more alien to her. The people bustling around her seemed to have a darkness in their eyes, a hidden pain that they could not escape. It was as if the machine in the park had somehow revealed the true nature of the world, and Mia was left questioning everything she had ever known.
The next day Mia passed the park early morning, when going to work. She could not resist to make a short detour, to visit the machine. Almost no people were around, just someone walking his dog, oblivious of what had happened the day before. To her surprise, the woman still hung on the cross, seemingly lifeless. Mia approached to take a closer look. Suddenly, the woman opened her eyes.
"Are you okay?" Mia asked cautiously, her voice barely audible as she moved closer to the woman. The woman didn't respond, but she gave Mia a faint smile. There was something in her eyes that Mia couldn't quite place. It was a mixture of pain, determination, and deep sadness. “Why did you do this?”
“I've lived a life of suffering and despair. This isn't an easy decision, but I've had enough. I chose this because I wanted to take control of my final moments. The crowd, the pain...it's all part of my journey. I don't expect you to understand, but I wanted to do this in a way that was...public. A statement, perhaps. To show that even in our darkest moments, we can still find the strength to endure."
Mia couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had been so affected by the spectacle that she had never stop to consider the woman's perspective. The woman's determination and resilience were both terrifying and admirable.
"I don't know if I can accept this," Mia said, her voice quivering. "But I won't just walk away from you. Will you do something for me? That you'll tell me your name, so I can pray for you?"
The woman's smile grew a little more genuine as she replied, "My name is Adria. I know it might be hard for you to understand, but I appreciate your concern. Please, just remember that we all have our own battles to fight, and sometimes, the ones we fight might not be visible to those around us." Mia nodded solemnly, feeling a strange sense of connection to this woman she had just met. She took one last look at Adria before turning to leave the park, feeling changed by the encounter. As she walked away, she couldn't shake the thought of Adria hanging on the cross, enduring her painful ordeal in a way that seemed so foreign to her own life.
Over the next few days, Mia found herself returning to the park to check on Adria. Every time, she was surprised to see her still hanging there, her body pale and weak but her spirit unbroken. She never spoke to Mia, but their silent connection grew stronger with each passing day.
One morning, as Mia approached the park, she saw something that made her heart skip a beat. Adria's body was limp, and her eyes were closed. She had not moved in hours. Fear and panic filled Mia's chest. She raced to the base of the contraption, her hands shaking hoped against all odds to see a sign of life. There was none.
As Mia stood there, her heart heavy with sadness, she couldn't help but feel a sense of closure. She had come to understand the woman's reason for choosing such an extreme method of ending her life, even if she couldn't fully comprehend it.
As Mia watched the crowd go about their business, seemingly oblivious to what had happened, she felt a sense of disconnect. She couldn't help but wonder how they could not care at about Adria’s fate.
Mia stood there for a while, watching the world go by, feeling like an outsider in this strange city. She couldn't shake the feeling that the world had changed. She turned to leave, feeling like she needed to go back to her own life but also feeling the weight of Adria's story and her own disillusionment.
As Mia left the park, she didn't know what to think. She had never witnessed anything quite like it. She felt like she had been given a glimpse into a world she had never seen before, a world of pain and suffering that was hidden beneath the surface. She couldn't help but feel like she had been forever changed by her encounter with Adria.
In the days that followed, Mia found herself thinking about Adria a lot. She couldn't stop wondering why someone would want to subject themselves to such pain and suffering in order to find some sort of release.
But also she wondered what it would feel like to do the same herself.
As the days passed, Mia found herself returning to the park more frequently, drawn to the spot where Adria had hung. Each time, she hoped to see some sign of movement from the still figure. But it remained as she had left it, a silent reminder of the brutal spectacle she had witnessed.
Mia tried to push the thoughts of Adria from her mind, but they continued to haunt her. She found herself sneaking glances at strangers, wondering if they too were hiding a secret pain. She began to see the world in a new light, one where the facade of normalcy concealed a multitude of suffering. Again and again she thought about using the machine to crucify herself.
Summer turned into autumn, followed by a dark, unpleasant winter until the springtime came. Mia's job drained her, as the bitch that somehow obtained the right to call herself boss found again and again new ways to make Mia and other people feel useless. The dark thoughts of self-inflicted suffering kept on creeping back into her mind. Every evening, she found herself walking past the park and couldn't resist the urge to visit the machine, hoping to find some solace.
However, she was unable to shake them off. Instead, the dreams became only stronger every day until she could not think about anything else any more. She couldn't stop considering how it would be if she could just end the pain and suffering she felt inside. And yet, she also felt a sense of fascination with the machine, as if it represented a way out of the darkness that she couldn't escape.
One day, as she was sitting in her office, Mia found herself daydreaming about the machine and Adria. She imagined herself lying on the cold metal surface, the ropes pulling tight around her wrists and ankles. The pain would be excruciating, but the sensation of being lifted high into the sky would be exhilarating.
As her thoughts became more vivid, Mia found herself logging out, getting up and telling her boss: Ï don’t feel well, miss Walker. I better take the day off and go home to take some sleep.” A very unfriendly remark about her attitude from her boss, but it did not touch her any more. She was already underway out of the office.
Mia was glad to leave her office and found herself taking the long way towards the park where she had witnessed Adria's crucifixion. She was resolved to get herself crucified. There it was, dominating the square in the middle of the park. Her looming doom.
As Mia approached the machine, she felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. It was as if this was her destiny, and there was no turning back. She could hear the voices of those around her, but they seemed distant, as if they were speaking from a different world.
With determination in her eyes, Mia discarded her clothes, stepped onto the machine that would be her destruction, and placed herself into the indicated position. She could feel the cold steel restraints at the back of her hands, but the sensation only fueled her desire to experience the pain and suffering that Adria had endured.
As the restraints tightened with a loud click, readjusting her limbs to fit exactly in the restraints with irresistable power, she felt a strange sense of exhilaration and release. For the first time in what felt like forever, she was taking control of her life, her fate. She felt a rush of energy coursing through her veins as she struggled against the unrelenting metal cuffs, twisting and turning and somehow feeling just right.
A crowd had gathered around the machine, murmuring and whispering among themselves. Mia could hear them, but she refused to acknowledge them. She focused on her goal, her determination unwavering.
It was then, as she felt the nails penetrate her skin with another loud click, and the cross started to raise upwards, that she experienced a sense of euphoria. The pain was intense, but it was a pain she chose, a pain she controlled. It was difficult to breathe, but she felt as if she were free while restrained, as if she were finally escaping the darkness that had consumed her.
As her body hung there, she closed her eyes and let go. She was no longer Mia, she was just a spectacle, a statement, a reminder that even in our darkest moments, we can find the strength to endure, to fight, to make a choice.
When the cross was raised in the air the crowd watched in awe, some horrified, some fascinated. Some recording everything on their phones. But Mia’s connection with them was gone. They meant nothing to her any more. She didn't care that she would be all over social media. She was free. She would never have to face the pain and suffering of this world again. She was joining Adria in a place where there was no more darkness, only light.
That evening there was a performance at a stage on the other side of the park. She could hear the music in the distance, and see the people dancing and being happy. It was chilly, and she was high enough in the air to be fully exposed, and feel the cold wind drain all warmth from her exposed body.
As Mia hung there, her body growing colder and limp, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. She had finally overcome the darkness that had consumed her for so long. The world below seemed distant and unimportant now – a place where people danced and laughed, while she soared above it all, in pain but also free from her pain.
Mia's spirit soared, her mind filled with images of Adria's crucifixion. She had shown her how to find the strength to endure, to fight, and to make a choice – even if it meant taking her own life. In that moment, Mia knew it was the only way she could truly escape the torment that had plagued her for so long.
The crowd below began to disperse,leaving behind just some rubble, empty beer cans, and the occasional homeless junkie finding a spot to use his means to escape from the real world.
As the night wore on, Mia's body began to lose feeling. Her fingers and toes tingled, then numbed, and she became overwhelmingly tired. But she could not rest, she had to lift her body up again and again to make breathing easier.
She closed her eyes for some time, and when she opened them she noticed the sun began to rise. Maybe just a normal sunrise, but for Mia it was the most beautiful spectacle. She knew that she would possibly not see another sunrise. Mia's body grew colder still. Her skin felt like it was made of ice, and her breaths came faster and shallower. She wondered how long it would take, before her time would be up.
Down below in the park, the day started, Cleaners collected the trash from the day before, people walked their dogs and the junkies left to hassle some money to score another hit. the sun became warmer, a promising spring day. Some birds sang from the trees, occasionally landing in the grass to pick something to eat. Once, a dove landed on the cross. Mia wanted to touch it. So close, but, restrained as Mia was, so far out of reach.
For a while, Mia let herself drift in that place between life and death. The sun continued its ascent, gaining in strength and warming her up. As the world below slowly came back to life, she remained suspended, a silent witness to the cycle of life and death that unfolded around her.
The doves continued to cricle around the cross, their wings sometimes brushing against her icy skin. She tried to reach out to them, to touch their softness and warmth. But it was an impossible task, one she knew she would never be able to complete.
As the morning wore on, it became hotter and hotter. Her pale skin was fully exposed to the mercyless sunbeams, no sunblock to protect her. After a couple of hours her skin felt like it was on fire, but she was determined to make it through the day. Something was adding to her lack of comfort, the more and more urgent need to pee. There was only one resolve, just let it go. She heard someone shouting: “Look at her, she peed herself!” Now she felt utterly humiliated.
In the evening her skin was red as a lobster, her throat was like leather from dehydration and she had no feeling at all in her arms anymore.
Suddenly she heard a voice she recognized from below. It was her boss, the horrible Miss Walker. “So here you are Mia. Now I know why you did not show up at work. And it is so difficult nowadays to hire competent people. Not that you were competent by the way. Anyway, you’re fired, Mia. I think you will not be able to clear out your desk in person, so I will do that for you tomorrow. Have a great night on your cross and goodbye Mia.
Mia wanted to shout some insults towards her heartless boss, but, dehydrated as she was, her voice refused.
She mustered the last of her strength to utter a final, hoarse retort. "Adria, wherever you are, I hope you're proud of me." With that, she closed her eyes and let the sun's rays wash over her, ready to surrender to the inevitable.
As the night fell over the park, Mia's body slowly grew colder, her breaths shallow and weak. The birds had long since departed for the safety of their nests, leaving behind only the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze.
In the distance, the sound of laughter and music from the bars nearby could still faintly be heard, but it was muted now, as if muffled by a thick veil of mist. Mia's spirit, too, felt distant and remote, drifting away from the world below like a ghost.
Then she heard a familiar voice again. “Mia! Is that you??? What are you doing up there.” It was her best friend Jenny. Mia tried to say something, but could not. She just looked at Jenny, standing below her cross hand in hand with the man she was currently dating. “Why did you do this?” Jenny looked sad. “It’s too late now. I hope you don’t suffer too much. Farewell Mia.” With tears in her eyes, Jenny turned around and walked off with her lover.
In that moment, Mia felt a deep sadness wash over her, knowing that her friend would never understand. She could only watch helplessly as Jenny disappeared from her sight, becoming just another speck in the distance.
The cool night air began to replace the heat of the day, and Mia's body grew colder still. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift, thinking of all the times she and Jenny had shared, the laughter, the tears, and the pain. In her mind's eye, she saw Jenny's face one last time, etched with sadness and confusion as she turned away.
As Mia swayed on the cross, the crowd below slowly thinned out, leaving only a few remaining onlookers. They whispered to one another, trying to make sense of what they had witnessed. Some were visibly shaken, while others simply turned away, their curiosity sated.
In the quietness of the deserted park, Mia’s body swayed on her cross in the cold wind, but she barely noticed anything anymore. The night was just a haze to her mind.
She opened her eyes and noticed that she had survived another night, it was morning again. Her mind drifted away again. Then she heard wings flapping. A crow has landed on her shoulder. She was too weak to try to chase it away. It started picking at her eyes. Mia tried to swipe at the crow, but her weakened arms could not escape the restraints. The pain from the pecking was overwhelming, but her tired body couldn't bring herself to struggle.
She remained suspended, a blinded, silent witness to the new day as another crow landed on her and started tearing a piece of her flesh. She hoped for it all to end soon.
Let it end.
Let it end.
......
During the day several crows picked at her, mutilating her dying body. By the evening she was unrecognizable. But she did not notice any more. She was together with Adria in the next world.
Attachments
thecuriousone
Tribune
On this hot rod rally the drivers will have their paddock girl crucified on the front of their car. The winner will have his paddock girl taken off the cross, and medical treatment will be administered. The crosses with the paddock girls of the losers will be placed next to the race track.
Attachments
thecuriousone
Tribune
thecuriousone
Tribune
I got a sequel to my previous cruxs story the crucifying machine in the park. If you want to read that, just scroll back. I am not 100% satisfied, but can't get myself to get it perfect. So I post a story that in my own eys is pretty good, but not perfect.
The crucifying machine part 2: revenge on Miss Walker
No one who worked at Mr Walker her department was content. Over the past 8 months, five people in the department have quit their job. Two more were sacked by Miss Walker. It was said that she has driven one employee, Mia to commit suicide. And the list of complaints about her leadership and behaviour was so long that the general manager, Mr Smith, could not ignore it any more.
As Miss Walker entered the manager's office, she could sense the tension in the air. Mister Smith, the manager, sat behind his desk, looking stern and serious. Without skipping a beat, he began, "Miss Walker, we've been receiving numerous complaints about your behavior towards your colleagues. Your management style is causing unrest in the office. This cannot continue."
Miss Walker smirked confidently, knowing she held all the cards in this situation. She leaned in closer to the manager,took her phone and showed the recording that she had made at last year’s halloween office party. Mister Smith turned pale and muttered: ‘What…how…I don’t..” Miss Walker smiled and whispered, "You know that you got very drunk at the halloween party? That’s because I spiked your drink and took you with me to arrange a guarantee. I think your career is through the drain if people know you are assfucked by a big fat prostitute with a rubber strapon while wearing woman’s underwear. Not to mention your marriage. You wouldn't want certain... sensitive information to be leaked, would you?"
Mr Smith tried to look stern. "You would not dare. I will press criminal charges against you." This made Miss Walker start laughing out loud. "What evidence do you have? Good luck. By the way, I know your daughter is attending Blackwick High. Is this her, am I right?" She showed a picture on her phone again. "I know a certain guy, as ruthless as stupid. He absolutely adores me. Of course, I am just so adorable. I am sure that, for the promise of something romantic, he immediately will make her have an accident if I ask him."
The manager's expression changed as he realized what she was insinuating. He hesitated for a moment before sighing heavily and saying, "What do you want, Miss Walker?"
A triumphant smile spread across Miss Walker's face as she laid out her demands for a significant raise and a recommendation for promotion. Reluctantly, Mr Smith said: “Considering the situation, the complaints against you have no fundamental ground. I will arrange a salary raise of 10%, starting next month.” Mis Walker interrupted him with a teasing tone in her voice. “Make it 50% and we have a deal. At least for now. I expect promotion before the end of the year.”
You should have seen the colour of the face of Mr Smith when he agreed to the proposal.
Mister Smith had always prided himself on his professionalism and integrity. As the general manager of one of the most successful companies in its branch in Europe he had worked hard to earn the respect of his colleagues and employees. However, all of that was about to be threatened by the actions of Miss Walker. Smith had initially welcomed her with open arms, impressed by her skills and determination. But little did he know about what employing her as head of her department would ultimately lead to.
Meanwhile, in another part of the office, Fiona, one of the employees, was struggling to cope with the stress of her job. She had been constantly bullied and harassed by Miss Walker since the day she joined the company. Fiona was a hardworking and dedicated employee, but Miss Walker seemed to have a personal vendetta against her, even more than the other workers in the office. She had even gone to the extent of sabotaging Fiona's work and taking credit for her ideas. Two weeks before she had filed a well documented complaint against Miss Walker. Nothing had happened.
Smiling Miss Walker entered the office, and went straight to the desk of Fiona. She leaned on the corner of the desk and had this look in her eyes that could only spell trouble. With a teeming voice she said: "This report that you should make, you have not yet finished it. I needed it at lunchtime, and now it is 4 o'clock." "I am sorry Miss Walker, apologized Fiona. "I needed the data for this report yesterday at latest to finish it in time, and you delivered it only at 10 this morning." "You lazy zombie!" shouted Miss Walker. "You can't tell me that you need so much time to finish a lousy report. Do you have the brain of an ant? If you want any chance of keeping your job, you have the report at my desk at 9 in the morning, you incompetent bitch! And no, I don't care if you have to work all night to get it finished. Don't expect to get overtime for it, consider it a lesson in working more efficiently!" Laughing hysterically, Miss walker left the office. Fiona was about to start crying. Pete and Silvie, the two other employees in the office, were stunned. "I have never seen anyone be so utterly MEAN...." said Silvie. "We all filed complaints about her, and nothing happened. We should immediately go to the general manager and complain about her, all three of us."
Mister Smith sat in his chair with a defeated expression on his face. He looked Fiona, Pete and Sylvie in the eyes, seemingly defeated. "I will be honest with you. Just one hour ago, I tried to sack her. I found out that she is too dangerous for that. She will destroy anything that gets in her way. Even at the cost of someone's life." Fiona answered: "I think you are telling the truth. You looked so pale when we entered here, that meeting with her must have scared you to death. And I believe you when you say she does not care for another person's life. Remember Mia? Last spring she chose to crucify herself after months of enduring the tyranny of Miss Walker. And she boasted about it again and again, how Mia deserved what she did to herself. I can confirm that because I had contact with Mia's good friend Jenny. She said that Mia told that she really suffered from the stress that Miss Walker gave her, and that it must have been the reason why she chose suicide." The room was filled with a heavy sense of dread. They all knew that Miss Walker was a difficult person to work with, but they had never imagined what she was really capable of.
Pete said: "So we all have to find a way to stop her. I don't know how, but if there is no other choise, we have to be prepared to be as ruthless as Miss Walker, and do what we have to do. Let's all think about a solution, and come together friday evening to discuss how we can stop her." The others nodded in agreement. They knew that Miss Walker had to be stopped before she caused any more harm. It was clear that they would have to take matters into their own hands. 'Let's all think about a solution, and come together Friday evening to discuss how we can stop her," Pete suggested.
All agreed. And they did come up with a plan of vengeance so mean, that the average dictator would be proud of it.
The next wednesday, just before the end of the workday, Mister Smith called Miss Walker. He said: "I just received an email from our potential client, the Ansson group. They have expressed interest in meeting with us to discuss a multi-million dollar deal. Do you know Mr Sven Ansson? He happens to be in town." Miss Walker had no clue. He handed her a printout from the fabricated mail. "Mr Ansson is the founder of the Ansson group. The Ansson group have the potential to become our biggest customer in Scandinavia, if we can agree on this multi million dollar deal. I know he is not only single and handsome, but also filthy rich." Miss Walker's eyes twinkled. The smell of money attracted her like a decaying corpse attracts vultures.
"He and his sister Gea happen to be in town. They invited me to meet them in the VIP-lounge of the Sapphyre Club. He asked, to make her sister feel more at comfort in otherwise mostly men's company, to bring my wife with me. The fact is, my wife hates clubs. So I was thinking to bring you instead. Do you have some time this evening?"
This news made Miss Walker her heart skip a beat. If she could bait someone like Sven Ansson, she could potentially marry a fortune. A divorce later on, or maybe even better, an unfortunate accident, would make that fortune hers. She said: "I was planning to go out for dinner tonight, but a meeting with such an important person is reason enough to change my plans. I will be there," Miss Walker said while trying to contain her excitement, her mind already planning her outfit for the evening
Satisfied that she took the bait, Mr Smith said: "Good. In one hour we have to be there. And I know that's too short time to change clothes, but they will forgive us if we show up in business clothes." As Miss Walker walked out of the office, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. This was her chance to make a lasting impression on Mr. Ansson and secure a wealthy future for herself.
They arrived at the Sapphire club, the bouncer let them pass without any delay when they said they were on the guest list of Mr Ansson. As they entered the club, they were greeted by the pulsating music and the dazzling lights. They made their way to the VIP room. Mr Smith looked in his phone and said: " I have to apologize for the absence of Mr. and Mrs. Ansson. They are stuck in a traffic jam and will be delayed somewhat. Let's get a drink and make ourselves at home. Two Club Sapphire coctails please." The waitress, who happened to be the cousin of Silvie, nodded and brought their drinks while they watched the other guests entertain themselves.
Twenty minutes later Mr Smith said to Miss Walker: "Sven and Gea Ansson are here. At that time Sophie, Pete and Sylvie entered the VIP-lounge. However, something was off about them They did not look like they were enjoying themselves, but they all had a determined look on their faces "No, we are not Sven and Gea Ansson. We are Vengeance," Pete said, his voice cold and menacing. But Miss Walker did not respond, she just stared, completely dazed out. Her drink has been spiked. She did not resist at all when they escorted her out of the club.
"Miss Walker. Do you know where you are?"
Miss Walker woke up in a daze. Her head was pounding and her vision was blurred. She tried to move, but her arms and legs felt heavy. Panic set in as she realized she couldn't move or speak. She tried to scream, but only muffled noises came out.
As her senses slowly came back to her, she could hear faint voices around her. She strained to listen, hoping to gather some clues as to where she was and how she got there.
"Is she awake yet?" a man's voice asked.
"Not yet, but she will be soon," a woman's voice responded.
Miss Walker recognized the voices as Mr. Smith and Sophia, her colleagues at work. She was confused as to why they were here and why she couldn't move. She tried to recall the events leading up to this moment, but her memory was hazy.
Suddenly, she felt herself being lifted and carried. She tried to struggle, but her body was still too weak. She could hear the sound of footsteps and the creaking of a door. Then she was thrown onto a cold, hard surface.
As her vision began to clear, she could make out the figures of Mr. Smith, Sophia, and at the back Pete and Sylvie. Miss Walker's heart began to race as she realized she was in some kind of plot against her.
'Welcome, Miss Walker," Mr. Smith said, his voice cold and menacing. "We have been waiting for you to come to your senses again"
Miss Walker tried to plead for mercy, but several layers of duct tape tightly wrapped over her mouth prevented her from speaking. She looked around frantically, searching for an escape route. That's when she noticed a large, menacing machine in the corner.
It was a crucifying machine, more or less similar to the one in the park where a couple of months ago her former employee Mia chose the fate of death. Miss Walker's heart sank as she realized what was about to happen to her.
"Please, let me go!" she wanted to beg, tears streaming down her face. "Do you know where we are? This is the new crucifying machine on the roof of the Western Trade building," explained Sylvie. "You could see it in the distance from our office. We will enjoy the view when we look out of the window, and the dropping of stress level when you are watching us from up here. Now it is time to do what has to be done. Let's go for it." The four persons around her grabbed Miss Walker's limbs and carried her to the crucifying machine. Sophia took a mask from her purse, some kind of leather BDSM mask. She put it over Miss Walker's head. "Look, how ugly you are now. Your face now depicts your true nature. How fitting. It will also prevent people from seeing that you are gagged, so no one will suspect foul play. And no, when they take off your corpse from the cross, the police will not start an investigation. You are not the first one being gagged on the cross, several masochists have crucified themselves in the past with gags, chastity belts, nipple clamps and whatever crazy devices they could think of. Now, have fun, Miss Walker. Overlook the office from here, it is down there only 3 buildings away." With that said, they pushed her wrists and ankles against the automatic restraints.
Miss Walker struggled for what her drugged body was worth and tried to scream hell through her gag, but after a short fight, the restraints clicked shut around her limbs.
She felt a sudden, sharp pain as something long and pointed pierced her ankles, followed by another jolting agony as two more nails tore through her wrists.
The air was filled with the sound of creaking metal and the ominous rattling of chains. Miss Walker tried to struggle against her restraints, but it was no use. She was trapped, at the mercy of a emotionless machine that had put her in this horrifying situation. Slowly she was raised higher and higher in the air, fully exposed to the autums winds.
It was the most agonizing feeling she had ever experienced. Every fiber of her being screamed in protest as the weight of her own body pulled on the nails, tearing through her flesh and grinding against her bones. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead, stinging her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath. The air around her was thick with the smell of blood and the sound of her own labored breathing.
While was is being crucified, the group of four watched and laughed, enjoying their revenge. As she hang there, Miss Walker struggled and tried to scream through her gag, but no one could hear her over the noise of the city. After a while, they decided to leave her there to die and walk away, satisfied with their revenge.
As the night went on, Miss Walker's struggles became weaker and weaker, and the pain in her arms and legs became unbearable. She prayed for someone to save her, but no one came to the rescue. The occasional visitor at the roof could not understand anything from her muffled pleas that escaped her gagged mouth. As the sun began to rise, she knew that her time was running out.
The next morning the story went quickly around the office, that Miss Walker had crucified herself on top of the Western Trade building. Many sighs of relief were heard, alongside remarks like: "she deserved that."
Before lunchtime was over, someone managed to bring binoculars to the office. Everybody wanted to borrow that binoculars, just to watch her suffer.
Bets were placed on what hour she would die, although it was after the second day uncertain if she was still alive and just too weak to move. And the roof of the Western Trade building became a popular meeting point for the office personel, often bringing up memories to the horrible boss Miss Walker.
The crucifying machine part 2: revenge on Miss Walker
No one who worked at Mr Walker her department was content. Over the past 8 months, five people in the department have quit their job. Two more were sacked by Miss Walker. It was said that she has driven one employee, Mia to commit suicide. And the list of complaints about her leadership and behaviour was so long that the general manager, Mr Smith, could not ignore it any more.
As Miss Walker entered the manager's office, she could sense the tension in the air. Mister Smith, the manager, sat behind his desk, looking stern and serious. Without skipping a beat, he began, "Miss Walker, we've been receiving numerous complaints about your behavior towards your colleagues. Your management style is causing unrest in the office. This cannot continue."
Miss Walker smirked confidently, knowing she held all the cards in this situation. She leaned in closer to the manager,took her phone and showed the recording that she had made at last year’s halloween office party. Mister Smith turned pale and muttered: ‘What…how…I don’t..” Miss Walker smiled and whispered, "You know that you got very drunk at the halloween party? That’s because I spiked your drink and took you with me to arrange a guarantee. I think your career is through the drain if people know you are assfucked by a big fat prostitute with a rubber strapon while wearing woman’s underwear. Not to mention your marriage. You wouldn't want certain... sensitive information to be leaked, would you?"
Mr Smith tried to look stern. "You would not dare. I will press criminal charges against you." This made Miss Walker start laughing out loud. "What evidence do you have? Good luck. By the way, I know your daughter is attending Blackwick High. Is this her, am I right?" She showed a picture on her phone again. "I know a certain guy, as ruthless as stupid. He absolutely adores me. Of course, I am just so adorable. I am sure that, for the promise of something romantic, he immediately will make her have an accident if I ask him."
The manager's expression changed as he realized what she was insinuating. He hesitated for a moment before sighing heavily and saying, "What do you want, Miss Walker?"
A triumphant smile spread across Miss Walker's face as she laid out her demands for a significant raise and a recommendation for promotion. Reluctantly, Mr Smith said: “Considering the situation, the complaints against you have no fundamental ground. I will arrange a salary raise of 10%, starting next month.” Mis Walker interrupted him with a teasing tone in her voice. “Make it 50% and we have a deal. At least for now. I expect promotion before the end of the year.”
You should have seen the colour of the face of Mr Smith when he agreed to the proposal.
Mister Smith had always prided himself on his professionalism and integrity. As the general manager of one of the most successful companies in its branch in Europe he had worked hard to earn the respect of his colleagues and employees. However, all of that was about to be threatened by the actions of Miss Walker. Smith had initially welcomed her with open arms, impressed by her skills and determination. But little did he know about what employing her as head of her department would ultimately lead to.
Meanwhile, in another part of the office, Fiona, one of the employees, was struggling to cope with the stress of her job. She had been constantly bullied and harassed by Miss Walker since the day she joined the company. Fiona was a hardworking and dedicated employee, but Miss Walker seemed to have a personal vendetta against her, even more than the other workers in the office. She had even gone to the extent of sabotaging Fiona's work and taking credit for her ideas. Two weeks before she had filed a well documented complaint against Miss Walker. Nothing had happened.
Smiling Miss Walker entered the office, and went straight to the desk of Fiona. She leaned on the corner of the desk and had this look in her eyes that could only spell trouble. With a teeming voice she said: "This report that you should make, you have not yet finished it. I needed it at lunchtime, and now it is 4 o'clock." "I am sorry Miss Walker, apologized Fiona. "I needed the data for this report yesterday at latest to finish it in time, and you delivered it only at 10 this morning." "You lazy zombie!" shouted Miss Walker. "You can't tell me that you need so much time to finish a lousy report. Do you have the brain of an ant? If you want any chance of keeping your job, you have the report at my desk at 9 in the morning, you incompetent bitch! And no, I don't care if you have to work all night to get it finished. Don't expect to get overtime for it, consider it a lesson in working more efficiently!" Laughing hysterically, Miss walker left the office. Fiona was about to start crying. Pete and Silvie, the two other employees in the office, were stunned. "I have never seen anyone be so utterly MEAN...." said Silvie. "We all filed complaints about her, and nothing happened. We should immediately go to the general manager and complain about her, all three of us."
Mister Smith sat in his chair with a defeated expression on his face. He looked Fiona, Pete and Sylvie in the eyes, seemingly defeated. "I will be honest with you. Just one hour ago, I tried to sack her. I found out that she is too dangerous for that. She will destroy anything that gets in her way. Even at the cost of someone's life." Fiona answered: "I think you are telling the truth. You looked so pale when we entered here, that meeting with her must have scared you to death. And I believe you when you say she does not care for another person's life. Remember Mia? Last spring she chose to crucify herself after months of enduring the tyranny of Miss Walker. And she boasted about it again and again, how Mia deserved what she did to herself. I can confirm that because I had contact with Mia's good friend Jenny. She said that Mia told that she really suffered from the stress that Miss Walker gave her, and that it must have been the reason why she chose suicide." The room was filled with a heavy sense of dread. They all knew that Miss Walker was a difficult person to work with, but they had never imagined what she was really capable of.
Pete said: "So we all have to find a way to stop her. I don't know how, but if there is no other choise, we have to be prepared to be as ruthless as Miss Walker, and do what we have to do. Let's all think about a solution, and come together friday evening to discuss how we can stop her." The others nodded in agreement. They knew that Miss Walker had to be stopped before she caused any more harm. It was clear that they would have to take matters into their own hands. 'Let's all think about a solution, and come together Friday evening to discuss how we can stop her," Pete suggested.
All agreed. And they did come up with a plan of vengeance so mean, that the average dictator would be proud of it.
The next wednesday, just before the end of the workday, Mister Smith called Miss Walker. He said: "I just received an email from our potential client, the Ansson group. They have expressed interest in meeting with us to discuss a multi-million dollar deal. Do you know Mr Sven Ansson? He happens to be in town." Miss Walker had no clue. He handed her a printout from the fabricated mail. "Mr Ansson is the founder of the Ansson group. The Ansson group have the potential to become our biggest customer in Scandinavia, if we can agree on this multi million dollar deal. I know he is not only single and handsome, but also filthy rich." Miss Walker's eyes twinkled. The smell of money attracted her like a decaying corpse attracts vultures.
"He and his sister Gea happen to be in town. They invited me to meet them in the VIP-lounge of the Sapphyre Club. He asked, to make her sister feel more at comfort in otherwise mostly men's company, to bring my wife with me. The fact is, my wife hates clubs. So I was thinking to bring you instead. Do you have some time this evening?"
This news made Miss Walker her heart skip a beat. If she could bait someone like Sven Ansson, she could potentially marry a fortune. A divorce later on, or maybe even better, an unfortunate accident, would make that fortune hers. She said: "I was planning to go out for dinner tonight, but a meeting with such an important person is reason enough to change my plans. I will be there," Miss Walker said while trying to contain her excitement, her mind already planning her outfit for the evening
Satisfied that she took the bait, Mr Smith said: "Good. In one hour we have to be there. And I know that's too short time to change clothes, but they will forgive us if we show up in business clothes." As Miss Walker walked out of the office, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. This was her chance to make a lasting impression on Mr. Ansson and secure a wealthy future for herself.
They arrived at the Sapphire club, the bouncer let them pass without any delay when they said they were on the guest list of Mr Ansson. As they entered the club, they were greeted by the pulsating music and the dazzling lights. They made their way to the VIP room. Mr Smith looked in his phone and said: " I have to apologize for the absence of Mr. and Mrs. Ansson. They are stuck in a traffic jam and will be delayed somewhat. Let's get a drink and make ourselves at home. Two Club Sapphire coctails please." The waitress, who happened to be the cousin of Silvie, nodded and brought their drinks while they watched the other guests entertain themselves.
Twenty minutes later Mr Smith said to Miss Walker: "Sven and Gea Ansson are here. At that time Sophie, Pete and Sylvie entered the VIP-lounge. However, something was off about them They did not look like they were enjoying themselves, but they all had a determined look on their faces "No, we are not Sven and Gea Ansson. We are Vengeance," Pete said, his voice cold and menacing. But Miss Walker did not respond, she just stared, completely dazed out. Her drink has been spiked. She did not resist at all when they escorted her out of the club.
"Miss Walker. Do you know where you are?"
Miss Walker woke up in a daze. Her head was pounding and her vision was blurred. She tried to move, but her arms and legs felt heavy. Panic set in as she realized she couldn't move or speak. She tried to scream, but only muffled noises came out.
As her senses slowly came back to her, she could hear faint voices around her. She strained to listen, hoping to gather some clues as to where she was and how she got there.
"Is she awake yet?" a man's voice asked.
"Not yet, but she will be soon," a woman's voice responded.
Miss Walker recognized the voices as Mr. Smith and Sophia, her colleagues at work. She was confused as to why they were here and why she couldn't move. She tried to recall the events leading up to this moment, but her memory was hazy.
Suddenly, she felt herself being lifted and carried. She tried to struggle, but her body was still too weak. She could hear the sound of footsteps and the creaking of a door. Then she was thrown onto a cold, hard surface.
As her vision began to clear, she could make out the figures of Mr. Smith, Sophia, and at the back Pete and Sylvie. Miss Walker's heart began to race as she realized she was in some kind of plot against her.
'Welcome, Miss Walker," Mr. Smith said, his voice cold and menacing. "We have been waiting for you to come to your senses again"
Miss Walker tried to plead for mercy, but several layers of duct tape tightly wrapped over her mouth prevented her from speaking. She looked around frantically, searching for an escape route. That's when she noticed a large, menacing machine in the corner.
It was a crucifying machine, more or less similar to the one in the park where a couple of months ago her former employee Mia chose the fate of death. Miss Walker's heart sank as she realized what was about to happen to her.
"Please, let me go!" she wanted to beg, tears streaming down her face. "Do you know where we are? This is the new crucifying machine on the roof of the Western Trade building," explained Sylvie. "You could see it in the distance from our office. We will enjoy the view when we look out of the window, and the dropping of stress level when you are watching us from up here. Now it is time to do what has to be done. Let's go for it." The four persons around her grabbed Miss Walker's limbs and carried her to the crucifying machine. Sophia took a mask from her purse, some kind of leather BDSM mask. She put it over Miss Walker's head. "Look, how ugly you are now. Your face now depicts your true nature. How fitting. It will also prevent people from seeing that you are gagged, so no one will suspect foul play. And no, when they take off your corpse from the cross, the police will not start an investigation. You are not the first one being gagged on the cross, several masochists have crucified themselves in the past with gags, chastity belts, nipple clamps and whatever crazy devices they could think of. Now, have fun, Miss Walker. Overlook the office from here, it is down there only 3 buildings away." With that said, they pushed her wrists and ankles against the automatic restraints.
Miss Walker struggled for what her drugged body was worth and tried to scream hell through her gag, but after a short fight, the restraints clicked shut around her limbs.
She felt a sudden, sharp pain as something long and pointed pierced her ankles, followed by another jolting agony as two more nails tore through her wrists.
The air was filled with the sound of creaking metal and the ominous rattling of chains. Miss Walker tried to struggle against her restraints, but it was no use. She was trapped, at the mercy of a emotionless machine that had put her in this horrifying situation. Slowly she was raised higher and higher in the air, fully exposed to the autums winds.
It was the most agonizing feeling she had ever experienced. Every fiber of her being screamed in protest as the weight of her own body pulled on the nails, tearing through her flesh and grinding against her bones. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead, stinging her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath. The air around her was thick with the smell of blood and the sound of her own labored breathing.
While was is being crucified, the group of four watched and laughed, enjoying their revenge. As she hang there, Miss Walker struggled and tried to scream through her gag, but no one could hear her over the noise of the city. After a while, they decided to leave her there to die and walk away, satisfied with their revenge.
As the night went on, Miss Walker's struggles became weaker and weaker, and the pain in her arms and legs became unbearable. She prayed for someone to save her, but no one came to the rescue. The occasional visitor at the roof could not understand anything from her muffled pleas that escaped her gagged mouth. As the sun began to rise, she knew that her time was running out.
The next morning the story went quickly around the office, that Miss Walker had crucified herself on top of the Western Trade building. Many sighs of relief were heard, alongside remarks like: "she deserved that."
Before lunchtime was over, someone managed to bring binoculars to the office. Everybody wanted to borrow that binoculars, just to watch her suffer.
Bets were placed on what hour she would die, although it was after the second day uncertain if she was still alive and just too weak to move. And the roof of the Western Trade building became a popular meeting point for the office personel, often bringing up memories to the horrible boss Miss Walker.
Attachments
thecuriousone
Tribune
We were involved in a science project where automatic drones were used to spot wildlife. If the test runs in the appalacian mountains would be succesful, the drones would be used in Tanzania to spot rhinos. On the second day we lost one drone. Thanks to the GPS-tracker we were able to recover it, but it took four days before we were able to get it out of the treetop. There were bullet holes in the drone, indicating foul play. Next day we reviewed the recovered footage. I was just getting coffee when I heard them shouting to come quickly and take a look. They played back the footage and it unmistakenly showed a woman on a cross.
We alerted the police, but when they got there, she was dead for two days and the crows were picking her body.
I will think twice before going on a hike in the appalachians from now on.
We alerted the police, but when they got there, she was dead for two days and the crows were picking her body.
I will think twice before going on a hike in the appalachians from now on.
Attachments
More evidence that a tortured woman doesn’t need to be naked to be incredibly sexy in her suffering!
Mmmmm poor miss Loinclothslave!
thecuriousone
Tribune
Clothed can be just as sexy as naked
thecuriousone
Tribune
I post this one in my crux peril thread, but it contains drowning as well. Enjoy.
Kim on her own beach
I was glad to get back to the island. I moored my boat and overlooked the view. Palm trees with undergrowth below the afternoon sun. A state of the art mansion at the edge of the treeline. On the far side of the bay, a wooden cross halfway submerged in the surf. My cross. On my own island.
How did I, Kim d'Ollaise, descendant from an american mother and a french-canadian father, get to own a private island? That's a lucky windfall. My uncle was the black sheep of the family. The entire family did not have contact with him. I only knew his name, never met him. He was not even present at marriages or funerals. Besides making himself hated by everyone around him, he was only good at one thing. Making money. How much money, we found out at his death.
My share of the inheritance was his private island, and enough money to stop worrying about money for the rest of my life. So in one day, In the blink of an eye, I changed from a poor college drop-out that had to work irregular jobs to try to pay the bills, to living in more luxury than I ever dreamt of. But the island was without competition the luxury that I enjoyed the most.
It gave me a place to retreat, to recover from years balancing on the edge of a burnout, and indulging in hobbies that I did not want any neighbours to know about.
I have always been drawn to the thrill of bondage and pain. Besides being bound and spanked once by a college boyfriend, I have never involved others in the fantasies that I already had from young age.
Now I had time and privacy, and I started experimenting on myself. It started with handcuffs. Over time, various toys and restraints made their way to the island. Soon a timer lockbox became part of the game, to keep my escape keys locked away. Sometimes I forced myself in restraints for up to a hole day. A while later a cage was added to the inventory. I got myself locked in the cage from time to time, with a timer padlock guarding the cage door. A spanking machine added pain and pleasure. A favorite became being strappado tied on my tiptoes with the spanking machine kissing my ass and back. These games gave me so much pleasure, that every month I spent at least a week at the island, with often several bondage sessions every day. Some equipment I had custom made by a contact in New York. I could afford it easily thanks to my late uncle.
Two months ago, I had a custom cross made with automatic restraints. I had myself crucified in the living room, between the trees and at the beach. Sometimes combined with a vibrator. I enjoyed it a lot, but after a while, I wanted to add another thrill. So I had another set of restraints made for the cross, a waterproof set. And a base to anchor it at the bottom of the sea, in the shallow waters near the beach.
I knew the consequences of what would happen when something went wrong. So I learned how to read tide tables, and made proper measurements before I installed the cross in the bay. If secured on the cross, I would get dunked by the bigger waves at high water, but I would never drown. The first session was a one hour session with rising tide and a vibrator in my pussy. I had multiple great orgasms while the waves were pushing and pulling my body. The water surged and receded, adding to my torment. When I was finally released, I was exhausted and everything was sore. But it was definitely something that I would do again, at least, after some days recovery time.
Before I could do another session on the cross, I was called by my mother. My father was seriously ill, and taken to the hospital for surgery. So I left everything behind and rushed to my parental home, to support my parents.
After a week my father was released from the hospital, and on the way to a full recovery. I spent some time with my parents, and with my brother, who also came back home from his luxury penthouse in Dubai. I also did some fun shopping with my sister, who came back from her villa on Ibiza.
It was good to see my family again, but I kept on dreaming about the bondage games at my island. But it had to wait a little longer. I spent another two days with old friends that I knew from childhood, I had to keep my promise to pay them a visit. But after that, I went back to the marina in Miami, loaded my powerboat with supplies for the next week, and got on board to rush back to my caribean island.
I unloaded and unpacked my luggage and groceries, and checked the cross. The automatic cuffs still worked fine, but it was already too late in the evening for a session. Besides that, a hurricane warning had been issued. Hurricane Tania might come too close to my island for comfort. I decided to check the forecast again in the morning, and if it would be safe, have a session on the cross with the rising tide after breakfast.
After a tasteful meal with a glass of good wine, I spent the night handcuffed and locked up in my cage in the company of a dido, like so many delicious restrained nights.
At sunrise, when the timer allowed me out of my cage, I checked the forecast again. It showed what I was hoping for. The hurricane would miss my island by at least 300 miles, it was safe. After my morning coffe, at rising tide, I donned my bikini with a little bit extra. My favourite vibrator was inside my pussy, programmed to start in 30 minutes with a random variety of vibrations, that would come in pure random intervals. I anticipated the waves of pleasure that this automatic lover would deliver me.
At that time I was ready to go to the beach. With trembling hands, I waded to my tormentor, the cross. With a little effort I stepped on the small platform that was extending just below the ankle restraints. The water was up to my ankles, but in three hours it would reach my chest and the waves would dunk me every now and then. Three hours was also the opening time that I set for the restraints, expecting that it would be the maximum that I could endure.
With a little struggle I reached for the wrist restraints, placed my wrists against the built-in sensors. placed my ankles as well in the restraints. Now with all four sensors activated by my limbs, the restraints clicked shut. I was committed, I was sentenced to three hours of pain and pleasure. With myself playing the roles of the judge, prison ward, executioner and detainee. I tested the restraints, and they were snug and strong as they should be.
I had positioned the cross in such way that I was facing inland, making it impossible to see the waves coming. As the tide began to rise, the waves grew stronger. They crashed violently against the cross, sending jets of water over my body. I closed my eyes and reveled in the sensation of the elements battering my skin. The vibrator kicked in for a couple of minutes, teasing me to the brink of an orgasm and then falling silent again to leave me frustrated.
What I did not know was that somewhere, not really far away, an earthquake shook the seabed. Not extremely powerful, but strong enough. It was registered by sysmographs, and a tsunami warning was issued. But I was crucified and never knew about the tsunami warning. After some time however, I did notice the sea retreating, It made me wonder what was going on. I did not get time to think it over, because the vibrator hit me with a series of strong vibrations. I was hit by a phenonemous orgasm, followed by the phenomenous tsunami wave.
I had orgasm after orgasm while being submerged, until I ran out of oxygen and everything went black for a short time.
I opened my eyes. I was still alive. I coughed out the water as good as I could. The sea has retreated to my knees. I looked around. Lots of palm trees were snapped like matchsticks. My yaught was one hundred yards inland and upside down between the broken palm trees. My mansion... the walls and the roof were still there, but doors and windows were gone. No more chairs on the patio, and where the barbecue used to be there was now the trunk of a broken palmtree. I mourned for the destruction of my paradise. I also noted that I was not upright any more, but tilted. Something at the base of the cross must have given way. I just hoped that my head would still be above the water now the cross was off balance. But nothing I could do at that time, as I was locked to my cross.
I noticed the waves were a lot higher than usually. It must have been caused by the distant hurricane, sending its waves over great distance. The result was that I got dunked again and again. Combined with the repeated outbursts of my vibrator, oit was draining my energy rapidly. But at least, my tilted cross was stable. It did not bend any further. I looked at the sun. Coming close to noontime, I estimated. Maybe half an hour, one hour maximum before I would be released. With my boat wrecked and my house a complete chaos stuck on a destroyed paradise island. But I would survive the ordeal. I had a satellite phone in a watertight container firmly secured to the foundations of my house, so I could arrange someone picking me up.
Suddenly I saw something in the corner of my eye. I got dunked by a big wave again before I could see what it was. But I did not get dunked the same as before. The cross moved. Once my head was above the water again, I noticed what was in the water. The trunk of a palm tree, floating around and about to be washed up on the shore. Immediately, the cross got banged again, by maybe a tonne of floating palmtree slamming itself against the cross. It was bent down a lot, and my head was alarmingly low now. I screamed and struggled, but regretted using my breath for screaming right away. I was dunked a lot longer, it felt like ages.
At last my head was above the water again for a brief interval, and I sucked as much air in my lungs as I could before I disappeared underwater again. At that time the vibrator kicked in again, with a long series of ever stronger pulses.
Another hard bump from the palm tree again, and my head was now close to the seabed. No chance of breathing any more. My life flashed before my eyes. Things that I would have done different if I could do it again. But it did not matter, I was dying.
The vibrator reached its peak, and so did I. I enjoyed a tremendous orgasm when I could not hold my breath any more and sucked my lungs full of water. Just before everything went black, I noticed that the cross was floating. But me being at the bottom of the cross, it did nothing to save me.
The cross with my dead body was washed up on the beac,h when the restraints finally clicked open. Fail-safe, 100% waterproof. Leaving my body behind as a lavish dish for the seagulls.
Kim on her own beach
I was glad to get back to the island. I moored my boat and overlooked the view. Palm trees with undergrowth below the afternoon sun. A state of the art mansion at the edge of the treeline. On the far side of the bay, a wooden cross halfway submerged in the surf. My cross. On my own island.
How did I, Kim d'Ollaise, descendant from an american mother and a french-canadian father, get to own a private island? That's a lucky windfall. My uncle was the black sheep of the family. The entire family did not have contact with him. I only knew his name, never met him. He was not even present at marriages or funerals. Besides making himself hated by everyone around him, he was only good at one thing. Making money. How much money, we found out at his death.
My share of the inheritance was his private island, and enough money to stop worrying about money for the rest of my life. So in one day, In the blink of an eye, I changed from a poor college drop-out that had to work irregular jobs to try to pay the bills, to living in more luxury than I ever dreamt of. But the island was without competition the luxury that I enjoyed the most.
It gave me a place to retreat, to recover from years balancing on the edge of a burnout, and indulging in hobbies that I did not want any neighbours to know about.
I have always been drawn to the thrill of bondage and pain. Besides being bound and spanked once by a college boyfriend, I have never involved others in the fantasies that I already had from young age.
Now I had time and privacy, and I started experimenting on myself. It started with handcuffs. Over time, various toys and restraints made their way to the island. Soon a timer lockbox became part of the game, to keep my escape keys locked away. Sometimes I forced myself in restraints for up to a hole day. A while later a cage was added to the inventory. I got myself locked in the cage from time to time, with a timer padlock guarding the cage door. A spanking machine added pain and pleasure. A favorite became being strappado tied on my tiptoes with the spanking machine kissing my ass and back. These games gave me so much pleasure, that every month I spent at least a week at the island, with often several bondage sessions every day. Some equipment I had custom made by a contact in New York. I could afford it easily thanks to my late uncle.
Two months ago, I had a custom cross made with automatic restraints. I had myself crucified in the living room, between the trees and at the beach. Sometimes combined with a vibrator. I enjoyed it a lot, but after a while, I wanted to add another thrill. So I had another set of restraints made for the cross, a waterproof set. And a base to anchor it at the bottom of the sea, in the shallow waters near the beach.
I knew the consequences of what would happen when something went wrong. So I learned how to read tide tables, and made proper measurements before I installed the cross in the bay. If secured on the cross, I would get dunked by the bigger waves at high water, but I would never drown. The first session was a one hour session with rising tide and a vibrator in my pussy. I had multiple great orgasms while the waves were pushing and pulling my body. The water surged and receded, adding to my torment. When I was finally released, I was exhausted and everything was sore. But it was definitely something that I would do again, at least, after some days recovery time.
Before I could do another session on the cross, I was called by my mother. My father was seriously ill, and taken to the hospital for surgery. So I left everything behind and rushed to my parental home, to support my parents.
After a week my father was released from the hospital, and on the way to a full recovery. I spent some time with my parents, and with my brother, who also came back home from his luxury penthouse in Dubai. I also did some fun shopping with my sister, who came back from her villa on Ibiza.
It was good to see my family again, but I kept on dreaming about the bondage games at my island. But it had to wait a little longer. I spent another two days with old friends that I knew from childhood, I had to keep my promise to pay them a visit. But after that, I went back to the marina in Miami, loaded my powerboat with supplies for the next week, and got on board to rush back to my caribean island.
I unloaded and unpacked my luggage and groceries, and checked the cross. The automatic cuffs still worked fine, but it was already too late in the evening for a session. Besides that, a hurricane warning had been issued. Hurricane Tania might come too close to my island for comfort. I decided to check the forecast again in the morning, and if it would be safe, have a session on the cross with the rising tide after breakfast.
After a tasteful meal with a glass of good wine, I spent the night handcuffed and locked up in my cage in the company of a dido, like so many delicious restrained nights.
At sunrise, when the timer allowed me out of my cage, I checked the forecast again. It showed what I was hoping for. The hurricane would miss my island by at least 300 miles, it was safe. After my morning coffe, at rising tide, I donned my bikini with a little bit extra. My favourite vibrator was inside my pussy, programmed to start in 30 minutes with a random variety of vibrations, that would come in pure random intervals. I anticipated the waves of pleasure that this automatic lover would deliver me.
At that time I was ready to go to the beach. With trembling hands, I waded to my tormentor, the cross. With a little effort I stepped on the small platform that was extending just below the ankle restraints. The water was up to my ankles, but in three hours it would reach my chest and the waves would dunk me every now and then. Three hours was also the opening time that I set for the restraints, expecting that it would be the maximum that I could endure.
With a little struggle I reached for the wrist restraints, placed my wrists against the built-in sensors. placed my ankles as well in the restraints. Now with all four sensors activated by my limbs, the restraints clicked shut. I was committed, I was sentenced to three hours of pain and pleasure. With myself playing the roles of the judge, prison ward, executioner and detainee. I tested the restraints, and they were snug and strong as they should be.
I had positioned the cross in such way that I was facing inland, making it impossible to see the waves coming. As the tide began to rise, the waves grew stronger. They crashed violently against the cross, sending jets of water over my body. I closed my eyes and reveled in the sensation of the elements battering my skin. The vibrator kicked in for a couple of minutes, teasing me to the brink of an orgasm and then falling silent again to leave me frustrated.
What I did not know was that somewhere, not really far away, an earthquake shook the seabed. Not extremely powerful, but strong enough. It was registered by sysmographs, and a tsunami warning was issued. But I was crucified and never knew about the tsunami warning. After some time however, I did notice the sea retreating, It made me wonder what was going on. I did not get time to think it over, because the vibrator hit me with a series of strong vibrations. I was hit by a phenonemous orgasm, followed by the phenomenous tsunami wave.
I had orgasm after orgasm while being submerged, until I ran out of oxygen and everything went black for a short time.
I opened my eyes. I was still alive. I coughed out the water as good as I could. The sea has retreated to my knees. I looked around. Lots of palm trees were snapped like matchsticks. My yaught was one hundred yards inland and upside down between the broken palm trees. My mansion... the walls and the roof were still there, but doors and windows were gone. No more chairs on the patio, and where the barbecue used to be there was now the trunk of a broken palmtree. I mourned for the destruction of my paradise. I also noted that I was not upright any more, but tilted. Something at the base of the cross must have given way. I just hoped that my head would still be above the water now the cross was off balance. But nothing I could do at that time, as I was locked to my cross.
I noticed the waves were a lot higher than usually. It must have been caused by the distant hurricane, sending its waves over great distance. The result was that I got dunked again and again. Combined with the repeated outbursts of my vibrator, oit was draining my energy rapidly. But at least, my tilted cross was stable. It did not bend any further. I looked at the sun. Coming close to noontime, I estimated. Maybe half an hour, one hour maximum before I would be released. With my boat wrecked and my house a complete chaos stuck on a destroyed paradise island. But I would survive the ordeal. I had a satellite phone in a watertight container firmly secured to the foundations of my house, so I could arrange someone picking me up.
Suddenly I saw something in the corner of my eye. I got dunked by a big wave again before I could see what it was. But I did not get dunked the same as before. The cross moved. Once my head was above the water again, I noticed what was in the water. The trunk of a palm tree, floating around and about to be washed up on the shore. Immediately, the cross got banged again, by maybe a tonne of floating palmtree slamming itself against the cross. It was bent down a lot, and my head was alarmingly low now. I screamed and struggled, but regretted using my breath for screaming right away. I was dunked a lot longer, it felt like ages.
At last my head was above the water again for a brief interval, and I sucked as much air in my lungs as I could before I disappeared underwater again. At that time the vibrator kicked in again, with a long series of ever stronger pulses.
Another hard bump from the palm tree again, and my head was now close to the seabed. No chance of breathing any more. My life flashed before my eyes. Things that I would have done different if I could do it again. But it did not matter, I was dying.
The vibrator reached its peak, and so did I. I enjoyed a tremendous orgasm when I could not hold my breath any more and sucked my lungs full of water. Just before everything went black, I noticed that the cross was floating. But me being at the bottom of the cross, it did nothing to save me.
The cross with my dead body was washed up on the beac,h when the restraints finally clicked open. Fail-safe, 100% waterproof. Leaving my body behind as a lavish dish for the seagulls.
Attachments
thecuriousone
Tribune
Sacrifice to Kali
I had always been a curious soul, drawn to the unknown and the mysterious. So, when I heard of an ancient religious site in the heart of the jungle, just one hour drive from my hotel, I knew I had to visit. I booked a trip to this sacred place, accompanied by a tour guide and a small group of fellow adventurers.
The journey to the site was arduous, on bumpy dirt roads in this old four wheel drive, but the anticipation of what awaited us kept me going. As we entered the trail that leads to the location through the dense jungle on foot, the air grew thick with humidity and the scent of damp earth. The sun filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor.
Our guide, a local man named Ishaan, led us through the winding paths, pointing out various flora and fauna along the way. He spoke of the ancient civilization that once thrived in this area, and the goddess whom they were devoted to.
As we approached the site, the atmosphere shifted. The air grew heavy with a sense of reverence and awe. Our guide led us through the winding paths, pointing out various plants and animals that called this place home.The ruins of the temple loomed before us in the distance, a testament to the power and devotion of the people who had built it.
Ishaan explained that the temple was dedicated to Kali, the goddess of death and destruction. He told us stories of the temple and its dark history, of how volunteers were once sacrificed here, their bodies offered up in thanks for the goddess's blessings. He spoke of cruelty of the sacrifices that were once made in her honor, of the victims who were crucified and tortured to death on a wooden frame that stood at the heart of the temple. As we approached the clearing where the temple stood, I could feel a shiver of anticipation run down my spine
As we stood before the cross, I couldn't help but feel a shiver run down my spine. The very thought of the suffering that had taken place there was almost too much to bear. Yet, despite the things that had been done here, it was a place of astonishing beauty, seemingly spared from the destruction by commerce. Far from the regular touristic routes, not even a single souvenir shop around.
Ishaan then turned to me, his eyes gleaming with mischief. 'Would you like to experience what it was like to be a sacrifice to Kali?' he asked.
I hesitated for a moment. The other tourists in our small group all looked at me, their eyes expecting me not to say no. I did not want to bear the shame of refusing. 'Yes,' I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
Ishaan secured me to the wooden frame with sturdy steel manacles, assisted by the others. My arms and legs spread wide. The rough wood bit into my skin, and I felt a surge of panic rise within me. But I reminded myself that this was all just a demonstration, a way to connect with the history of the place.
As Ishaan explained the process of sacrifice, I began to feel a strange sense of detachment. It was as if I were watching the scene unfold from a distance, rather than experiencing it firsthand.
He requested others to assist him. Bart, a Belgian backpacker, attached flowers to my clothes to enhance my beauty. Eileen, a giggling australian woman, was made to put a white porcelain mask on my face. Ishaan explained the mask. 'This is an important part of the sacrifice. The volunteer's personality is taken away by making her unrecognizable with this mask. Dear sacrifice, please open your mouth.' I wanted to protest, but before I could, my voice was muffled by a metal gag that was inserted in my mouth. I could only make muffled sounds. I started to become distressed, but I could do nothing to stop them. 'Now the sacrifice has volunteered, her voice is taken from her so she could not change her mind any more.'
Then, without warning, Ishaan his demeanor changed, as well as the rest of the group. Suddenly several locals joined them. His eyes grew cold, and his voice took on a sinister edge. 'You have allowed yourself to be secured to the cross,' he said, his words dripping with menace. 'You are now considered a volunteer. Let the ritual proceed.' Suddenly all the people at the site donned their clothes and put on white robes.
Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, Ishaan and the others began to hammer nails through my wrists and ankles. The pain was excruciating, but I couldn't cry out. My voice had been stolen from me by the gag.
As the nails pierced my flesh, I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me. It was as if I had accepted my fate, and there was nothing left to do but endure the pain.
Ishaan then produced a knife, its blade glinting in the dappled sunlight. He proclaimed: I, the high priest of the infinite goddess Kali, will sacrifice this willing woman to Kali, our supreme power of destruction. By destroying this offering, we beg Kali to spare us from destruction." With a swift, practiced motion, he cut open my stomach, spilling my entrails onto the ground below.
I watched in horror as my lifeblood seeped into the earth, staining the sacred ground with my sacrifice. And yet, even as the extreme pain was consuming me, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the scene before me.
Ishaan poured gasoline over my body, and threw a match at me. And in that moment, I knew that my end was near. As the flames engulfed me, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. I had given myself to Kali, and in doing so, I had become a part of the ancient history of this sacred place.
As the fire consumed me, I closed my eyes and let the pain wash over me. In my final moments, I felt a sense of connection to the countless souls who had come before me, their spirits forever bound to this hallowed ground.
And so, I became a sacrifice to Kali, my life given in service to the goddess of death and destruction. As my body was reduced to ash, I knew that my spirit would live on, forever a part of the ancient temple in the heart of the jungle.
Some of my ash was used to fertilize the fields of the surrounding villages, contributing to an abundant harvest. The rest of my ash was mixed with traditional medicines. That's how my sacrifice contributed to the wellbeing of the community.
I had always been a curious soul, drawn to the unknown and the mysterious. So, when I heard of an ancient religious site in the heart of the jungle, just one hour drive from my hotel, I knew I had to visit. I booked a trip to this sacred place, accompanied by a tour guide and a small group of fellow adventurers.
The journey to the site was arduous, on bumpy dirt roads in this old four wheel drive, but the anticipation of what awaited us kept me going. As we entered the trail that leads to the location through the dense jungle on foot, the air grew thick with humidity and the scent of damp earth. The sun filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor.
Our guide, a local man named Ishaan, led us through the winding paths, pointing out various flora and fauna along the way. He spoke of the ancient civilization that once thrived in this area, and the goddess whom they were devoted to.
As we approached the site, the atmosphere shifted. The air grew heavy with a sense of reverence and awe. Our guide led us through the winding paths, pointing out various plants and animals that called this place home.The ruins of the temple loomed before us in the distance, a testament to the power and devotion of the people who had built it.
Ishaan explained that the temple was dedicated to Kali, the goddess of death and destruction. He told us stories of the temple and its dark history, of how volunteers were once sacrificed here, their bodies offered up in thanks for the goddess's blessings. He spoke of cruelty of the sacrifices that were once made in her honor, of the victims who were crucified and tortured to death on a wooden frame that stood at the heart of the temple. As we approached the clearing where the temple stood, I could feel a shiver of anticipation run down my spine
As we stood before the cross, I couldn't help but feel a shiver run down my spine. The very thought of the suffering that had taken place there was almost too much to bear. Yet, despite the things that had been done here, it was a place of astonishing beauty, seemingly spared from the destruction by commerce. Far from the regular touristic routes, not even a single souvenir shop around.
Ishaan then turned to me, his eyes gleaming with mischief. 'Would you like to experience what it was like to be a sacrifice to Kali?' he asked.
I hesitated for a moment. The other tourists in our small group all looked at me, their eyes expecting me not to say no. I did not want to bear the shame of refusing. 'Yes,' I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
Ishaan secured me to the wooden frame with sturdy steel manacles, assisted by the others. My arms and legs spread wide. The rough wood bit into my skin, and I felt a surge of panic rise within me. But I reminded myself that this was all just a demonstration, a way to connect with the history of the place.
As Ishaan explained the process of sacrifice, I began to feel a strange sense of detachment. It was as if I were watching the scene unfold from a distance, rather than experiencing it firsthand.
He requested others to assist him. Bart, a Belgian backpacker, attached flowers to my clothes to enhance my beauty. Eileen, a giggling australian woman, was made to put a white porcelain mask on my face. Ishaan explained the mask. 'This is an important part of the sacrifice. The volunteer's personality is taken away by making her unrecognizable with this mask. Dear sacrifice, please open your mouth.' I wanted to protest, but before I could, my voice was muffled by a metal gag that was inserted in my mouth. I could only make muffled sounds. I started to become distressed, but I could do nothing to stop them. 'Now the sacrifice has volunteered, her voice is taken from her so she could not change her mind any more.'
Then, without warning, Ishaan his demeanor changed, as well as the rest of the group. Suddenly several locals joined them. His eyes grew cold, and his voice took on a sinister edge. 'You have allowed yourself to be secured to the cross,' he said, his words dripping with menace. 'You are now considered a volunteer. Let the ritual proceed.' Suddenly all the people at the site donned their clothes and put on white robes.
Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, Ishaan and the others began to hammer nails through my wrists and ankles. The pain was excruciating, but I couldn't cry out. My voice had been stolen from me by the gag.
As the nails pierced my flesh, I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me. It was as if I had accepted my fate, and there was nothing left to do but endure the pain.
Ishaan then produced a knife, its blade glinting in the dappled sunlight. He proclaimed: I, the high priest of the infinite goddess Kali, will sacrifice this willing woman to Kali, our supreme power of destruction. By destroying this offering, we beg Kali to spare us from destruction." With a swift, practiced motion, he cut open my stomach, spilling my entrails onto the ground below.
I watched in horror as my lifeblood seeped into the earth, staining the sacred ground with my sacrifice. And yet, even as the extreme pain was consuming me, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the scene before me.
Ishaan poured gasoline over my body, and threw a match at me. And in that moment, I knew that my end was near. As the flames engulfed me, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. I had given myself to Kali, and in doing so, I had become a part of the ancient history of this sacred place.
As the fire consumed me, I closed my eyes and let the pain wash over me. In my final moments, I felt a sense of connection to the countless souls who had come before me, their spirits forever bound to this hallowed ground.
And so, I became a sacrifice to Kali, my life given in service to the goddess of death and destruction. As my body was reduced to ash, I knew that my spirit would live on, forever a part of the ancient temple in the heart of the jungle.
Some of my ash was used to fertilize the fields of the surrounding villages, contributing to an abundant harvest. The rest of my ash was mixed with traditional medicines. That's how my sacrifice contributed to the wellbeing of the community.
Attachments
thecuriousone
Tribune
I never imagined my day trip with friends would turn into such a nightmare. My parents were off on a caribean cruise giving me enough opportunity to live the party life with friends. During this beautiful september day I was invited by some of them. We had driven to a secluded lake nestled deep within the dense forest west of our town, the perfect spot for a refreshing swim. As we frolicked in the cool water, laughter and chatter filled the air.
But our carefree mood was gone when the topic of driving back home arose. None of them was planning on staying sober, and they were drowning beer after beer in their throats. My friends insisted it was no big deal, but to me it just felt completely wrong. I did not want to gamble with our lives. When I was younger, my cousin has died in an accident when driving drunk. That gave me reason not to compromise it for a few hours of fun.
An argument spiraled out of control, our voices rising above the sound of the birds. Angrily, I decided to leave them and walk back home alone. There was no telephone reach between the hills in this area, so I could not call someone else to pick me up. I stepped onto the forest path between the towering trees. I knew my directions in this woods, and I figured out that, if I would take a shortcut, I would be home in two hours.
The path gradually narrowed, and the forest grew thicker. I had walked for about an half an hour when I noticed something unusual ahead. A pungent aroma filled the air, and the undergrowth gave way to a small clearing.
Cautiously, I approached and gasped in disbelief. Spread out before me was a vast cannabis plantation, hundreds of plants reaching towards the sunlight. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized I had stumbled upon a secret operation.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I reached out to collect some of it. I had smoked it a few times in the past, and bringing some of it when one of my friends would throw a party, would make me popular. Maybe I could even come back with a backpack the next day, and harvest enough for myself to sell to all my friends.
But as my fingers brushed against the plants, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see three burly men, armed with shotguns and their eyes cold. I knew immediately that I was in danger. These men were criminals, and they were not amused to find a visitor at their farm.
'What are you doing here?' one of the men asked in broken English. 'I was just walking,' I said. 'I didn't know this was your property.' I tried to show them my most innoncent face. 'This is not our property,' the man said. 'This is our business.' My mind raced. I had to find a way to talk myself out of this. 'You're growing cannabis,' I said. I'It's beautiful. I have never seen that much cannabis in my life.' The look in the eyes of the man grew even colder. 'Yes,' the man said. 'And now you know too much.' He raised his gun and pointed it at my head.
I decided I better get out of there quickly, hoping they would not shoot, and turned to run. But it was too late. They immediately started to chase me. I ran as fast as I could, but the men were faster. They caught up to me and grabbed me by the arms..
I sank to my knees, tears in my eyes. 'Please don't kill me,' I begged. 'I swear I won't tell anyone about this.' The man laughed. 'You think we're going to let you go?' he said. 'You're a liability. We can't risk you talking to the police.' They twisted my arm behind my back and dragged me with them.
I tried to struggle and plead, but despite my futile attempts I was pushed down on a wooden cross lying on the ground. I struggled against their strong hands, my eyes wild with fear as I looked in his eyes. I saw no emotion at all, and realised that they had no intention to let me leave alive. No sign of remorse at all.
Their leader went to get something, and a minute later he came forward with a hammer and the biggest nails I have ever seen. 'You all promise to tell no one if we let you go. But I have done time before because someone snitched. I don't let this happen again.' Then he raised his hammer. 'I will make you an example for all the people that think about snitching.' To my horror, he drove the first nail straight through my left wrist with five, six firm blows. I screamed my lungs out, and started begging and pleading again. The only result was that he continued with nailing my other wrist, followed by my ankles. While I was screaming, he took out his phone and started recording. 'This movie I can show to anyone that plans to play tricks with me. To warn them what will happen if they fool me.' After this, they erected the cross and left.
I screamed and struggled, cried until the sun was down. My mind raced between despair and hope. Would someone miss me and start searching for me? Would they search in the right direction? My friends would surely report me missing if they could not contact me.
What I did not know, at the same time, my friends were driving home after finishing the last of their supply of beer. They missed a turn and ended dead at the bottom of a ravine. It would be days before they would be found. None of them would report me missing.
I tried to focus on anything but the pain, but it was overwhelming. Every breath was a struggle, and I could feel my strength fading with each passing moment. I knew that I couldn't hold on forever. I was going to die out here, alone and forgotten.
I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my cheeks, and whispered a prayer for mercy. I didn't want to die like this - scared and in pain. But there was nothing I could do to change my fate.
And so I hung there, suspended between life and death, as the night wore on. The pain became a constant presence, a throbbing ache that filled every part of my body. I felt myself slipping away, my consciousness fading as the darkness closed in around me.
It became daylight again, and I didn't know how long I hung there, suspended in agony. But eventually, I felt myself drifting away, my spirit leaving my broken body behind. I was free at last, released from the pain and suffering that had consumed me.
And as I looked down at my own lifeless form, I couldn't help but feel a sense of peace. I had faced my fears and conquered my pain, and now I was moving on to whatever came next.
I was free.
But our carefree mood was gone when the topic of driving back home arose. None of them was planning on staying sober, and they were drowning beer after beer in their throats. My friends insisted it was no big deal, but to me it just felt completely wrong. I did not want to gamble with our lives. When I was younger, my cousin has died in an accident when driving drunk. That gave me reason not to compromise it for a few hours of fun.
An argument spiraled out of control, our voices rising above the sound of the birds. Angrily, I decided to leave them and walk back home alone. There was no telephone reach between the hills in this area, so I could not call someone else to pick me up. I stepped onto the forest path between the towering trees. I knew my directions in this woods, and I figured out that, if I would take a shortcut, I would be home in two hours.
The path gradually narrowed, and the forest grew thicker. I had walked for about an half an hour when I noticed something unusual ahead. A pungent aroma filled the air, and the undergrowth gave way to a small clearing.
Cautiously, I approached and gasped in disbelief. Spread out before me was a vast cannabis plantation, hundreds of plants reaching towards the sunlight. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized I had stumbled upon a secret operation.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I reached out to collect some of it. I had smoked it a few times in the past, and bringing some of it when one of my friends would throw a party, would make me popular. Maybe I could even come back with a backpack the next day, and harvest enough for myself to sell to all my friends.
But as my fingers brushed against the plants, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see three burly men, armed with shotguns and their eyes cold. I knew immediately that I was in danger. These men were criminals, and they were not amused to find a visitor at their farm.
'What are you doing here?' one of the men asked in broken English. 'I was just walking,' I said. 'I didn't know this was your property.' I tried to show them my most innoncent face. 'This is not our property,' the man said. 'This is our business.' My mind raced. I had to find a way to talk myself out of this. 'You're growing cannabis,' I said. I'It's beautiful. I have never seen that much cannabis in my life.' The look in the eyes of the man grew even colder. 'Yes,' the man said. 'And now you know too much.' He raised his gun and pointed it at my head.
I decided I better get out of there quickly, hoping they would not shoot, and turned to run. But it was too late. They immediately started to chase me. I ran as fast as I could, but the men were faster. They caught up to me and grabbed me by the arms..
I sank to my knees, tears in my eyes. 'Please don't kill me,' I begged. 'I swear I won't tell anyone about this.' The man laughed. 'You think we're going to let you go?' he said. 'You're a liability. We can't risk you talking to the police.' They twisted my arm behind my back and dragged me with them.
I tried to struggle and plead, but despite my futile attempts I was pushed down on a wooden cross lying on the ground. I struggled against their strong hands, my eyes wild with fear as I looked in his eyes. I saw no emotion at all, and realised that they had no intention to let me leave alive. No sign of remorse at all.
Their leader went to get something, and a minute later he came forward with a hammer and the biggest nails I have ever seen. 'You all promise to tell no one if we let you go. But I have done time before because someone snitched. I don't let this happen again.' Then he raised his hammer. 'I will make you an example for all the people that think about snitching.' To my horror, he drove the first nail straight through my left wrist with five, six firm blows. I screamed my lungs out, and started begging and pleading again. The only result was that he continued with nailing my other wrist, followed by my ankles. While I was screaming, he took out his phone and started recording. 'This movie I can show to anyone that plans to play tricks with me. To warn them what will happen if they fool me.' After this, they erected the cross and left.
I screamed and struggled, cried until the sun was down. My mind raced between despair and hope. Would someone miss me and start searching for me? Would they search in the right direction? My friends would surely report me missing if they could not contact me.
What I did not know, at the same time, my friends were driving home after finishing the last of their supply of beer. They missed a turn and ended dead at the bottom of a ravine. It would be days before they would be found. None of them would report me missing.
I tried to focus on anything but the pain, but it was overwhelming. Every breath was a struggle, and I could feel my strength fading with each passing moment. I knew that I couldn't hold on forever. I was going to die out here, alone and forgotten.
I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my cheeks, and whispered a prayer for mercy. I didn't want to die like this - scared and in pain. But there was nothing I could do to change my fate.
And so I hung there, suspended between life and death, as the night wore on. The pain became a constant presence, a throbbing ache that filled every part of my body. I felt myself slipping away, my consciousness fading as the darkness closed in around me.
It became daylight again, and I didn't know how long I hung there, suspended in agony. But eventually, I felt myself drifting away, my spirit leaving my broken body behind. I was free at last, released from the pain and suffering that had consumed me.
And as I looked down at my own lifeless form, I couldn't help but feel a sense of peace. I had faced my fears and conquered my pain, and now I was moving on to whatever came next.
I was free.
Attachments
thecuriousone
Tribune
I got a new story, something that I imagine to possibly become reality within a couple of years.
The crucifying factory
I pulled my truck into the parking lot just as the sun was coming up over the horizon. The factory looked like it always did: a massive, grey structure with barbed wire fencing and tall, imposing gates. I yawned, stretching my arms, the air cool and crisp. Another day at the grind, another day making sure things ran smoothly.
I stepped out of the truck, slamming the door shut, and took a moment to look at the sprawling complex. The distant hum of machinery was already in the air. The foreman’s office was near the entrance, a small building that always smelled like old coffee and cheap cigarettes. I headed there first, nodding to a couple of the guards who were finishing their shifts.
“Morning, Tom,” one of them called out.
“Morning,” I replied, giving a half-hearted wave. The guard, a burly guy named Mitch, nodded back. We didn’t talk much, but we didn’t need to. The work spoke for itself.
Since I have been transferred to the women-section of the factory, I was a lot happier. In case of breakdowns, women were a lot more easy to control. It was also much funnier to harass them on the cross. Besides, there was a 10% rise in pay.
Inside the office, I found my clipboard and checked the schedule for the day. Many of the names were highlighted in red—new arrivals. They’d be on the line soon enough. I made a mental note to give them a proper welcome. People needed to understand the consequences of not participating in the electoral process, especially when it came to our beloved leader, President Trump. It was our duty to enforce these laws, to maintain order. Other names were highlighted in blue. They were crucified yesterday but still alive. Some were highlighted in purple. They were the strong ones, still alive after more than 24 hours being crucified.
I headed out onto the factory floor, my boots clanging against the metal grates. The assembly line was already in full swing, the sound of machinery loud and constant. Rows of women, their wrists and ankles bound, were being moved along the conveyor belt. The automated systems took care of most of the work, but there were always things that needed a human touch.
The first station was the stripping area. Robotic arms removed most of the women’s clothes with cold efficiency, leaving them exposed and shivering. Some of them cried, others stared blankly ahead, resigned to their fate. I walked past them, indifferent. Their suffering was a reminder, a lesson for everyone.
At the next station, the women were laid out on wooden beams, their arms stretched wide. More robotic arms came down, driving long nails through their wrists and ankles. The screams were loud and piercing, echoing through the factory. I watched for a moment, feeling nothing but a dull satisfaction. This was justice. This was order.
I spotted one of the new arrivals—a young woman, barely out of her teens. She was struggling against the restraints, her eyes wide with fear. I decided to pay her a visit.
“Hey there,” I said, leaning in close. “First day in the factory, huh?”
She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “Please,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to—I just forgot to vote, that’s all.”
I shrugged. “Rules are rules. Maybe next time you’ll remember.” I gave her a grin, enjoying the way her face twisted in terror.
The robotic arms came down, and she screamed as the nails were driven through her flesh. I watched for a moment longer before moving on. There were more stations to check, more women to supervise.
At the next station, the women were raised up, the beams they were nailed to lifted by hydraulic lifts. They were displayed like trophies, their bodies suspended in the air. Some of them had already passed out from the pain, others were still conscious, their faces contorted in agony. I made my rounds, ensuring everything was running smoothly. The automated systems were efficient, but there was always room for improvement.
As I walked past the rows of crucified women, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. This was our contribution to society, our way of ensuring that people followed the rules. It was harsh, but necessary.
I spotted another new arrival, an older woman this time. She was already on the beam, her body trembling with pain. I approached her, my shadow falling over her face.
“Having a good time?” I asked, my tone mocking.
She glared at me, her eyes filled with hate. “You’re a monster,” she spat.
I laughed. “Maybe. But I’m a monster with a job to do.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur of screams and machinery. I supervised the line, made sure everything was running smoothly, and took pleasure in the little moments of fear and pain I could cause. It was a good day, productive. By the time the sun was setting, I was ready to call it a day.
I headed back to the office, dropping my clipboard on the desk. The guards were changing shifts, the night crew coming in. I exchanged a few words with Mitch, made sure he knew about the new arrivals, and then headed out to my truck.
As I drove home, the factory fading in the rearview mirror, I felt a sense of satisfaction. Another day, another batch of lessons taught. The world was a harsh place, and it was our job to make sure people understood that.
I pulled into my driveway, the house dark and quiet. My wife was already asleep, and the kids were probably in bed. I sat in the truck for a moment, thinking about the day. It was a good life, I told myself. I was making a difference, keeping order.
I climbed out of the truck and headed inside to grab a beer from the fridge, the sounds of the factory still echoing in my ears. Tomorrow would be another day, another chance to enforce the rules. And I’d be there, making sure everything ran smoothly. After all, someone had to do it.
The crucifying factory
I pulled my truck into the parking lot just as the sun was coming up over the horizon. The factory looked like it always did: a massive, grey structure with barbed wire fencing and tall, imposing gates. I yawned, stretching my arms, the air cool and crisp. Another day at the grind, another day making sure things ran smoothly.
I stepped out of the truck, slamming the door shut, and took a moment to look at the sprawling complex. The distant hum of machinery was already in the air. The foreman’s office was near the entrance, a small building that always smelled like old coffee and cheap cigarettes. I headed there first, nodding to a couple of the guards who were finishing their shifts.
“Morning, Tom,” one of them called out.
“Morning,” I replied, giving a half-hearted wave. The guard, a burly guy named Mitch, nodded back. We didn’t talk much, but we didn’t need to. The work spoke for itself.
Since I have been transferred to the women-section of the factory, I was a lot happier. In case of breakdowns, women were a lot more easy to control. It was also much funnier to harass them on the cross. Besides, there was a 10% rise in pay.
Inside the office, I found my clipboard and checked the schedule for the day. Many of the names were highlighted in red—new arrivals. They’d be on the line soon enough. I made a mental note to give them a proper welcome. People needed to understand the consequences of not participating in the electoral process, especially when it came to our beloved leader, President Trump. It was our duty to enforce these laws, to maintain order. Other names were highlighted in blue. They were crucified yesterday but still alive. Some were highlighted in purple. They were the strong ones, still alive after more than 24 hours being crucified.
I headed out onto the factory floor, my boots clanging against the metal grates. The assembly line was already in full swing, the sound of machinery loud and constant. Rows of women, their wrists and ankles bound, were being moved along the conveyor belt. The automated systems took care of most of the work, but there were always things that needed a human touch.
The first station was the stripping area. Robotic arms removed most of the women’s clothes with cold efficiency, leaving them exposed and shivering. Some of them cried, others stared blankly ahead, resigned to their fate. I walked past them, indifferent. Their suffering was a reminder, a lesson for everyone.
At the next station, the women were laid out on wooden beams, their arms stretched wide. More robotic arms came down, driving long nails through their wrists and ankles. The screams were loud and piercing, echoing through the factory. I watched for a moment, feeling nothing but a dull satisfaction. This was justice. This was order.
I spotted one of the new arrivals—a young woman, barely out of her teens. She was struggling against the restraints, her eyes wide with fear. I decided to pay her a visit.
“Hey there,” I said, leaning in close. “First day in the factory, huh?”
She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “Please,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to—I just forgot to vote, that’s all.”
I shrugged. “Rules are rules. Maybe next time you’ll remember.” I gave her a grin, enjoying the way her face twisted in terror.
The robotic arms came down, and she screamed as the nails were driven through her flesh. I watched for a moment longer before moving on. There were more stations to check, more women to supervise.
At the next station, the women were raised up, the beams they were nailed to lifted by hydraulic lifts. They were displayed like trophies, their bodies suspended in the air. Some of them had already passed out from the pain, others were still conscious, their faces contorted in agony. I made my rounds, ensuring everything was running smoothly. The automated systems were efficient, but there was always room for improvement.
As I walked past the rows of crucified women, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. This was our contribution to society, our way of ensuring that people followed the rules. It was harsh, but necessary.
I spotted another new arrival, an older woman this time. She was already on the beam, her body trembling with pain. I approached her, my shadow falling over her face.
“Having a good time?” I asked, my tone mocking.
She glared at me, her eyes filled with hate. “You’re a monster,” she spat.
I laughed. “Maybe. But I’m a monster with a job to do.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur of screams and machinery. I supervised the line, made sure everything was running smoothly, and took pleasure in the little moments of fear and pain I could cause. It was a good day, productive. By the time the sun was setting, I was ready to call it a day.
I headed back to the office, dropping my clipboard on the desk. The guards were changing shifts, the night crew coming in. I exchanged a few words with Mitch, made sure he knew about the new arrivals, and then headed out to my truck.
As I drove home, the factory fading in the rearview mirror, I felt a sense of satisfaction. Another day, another batch of lessons taught. The world was a harsh place, and it was our job to make sure people understood that.
I pulled into my driveway, the house dark and quiet. My wife was already asleep, and the kids were probably in bed. I sat in the truck for a moment, thinking about the day. It was a good life, I told myself. I was making a difference, keeping order.
I climbed out of the truck and headed inside to grab a beer from the fridge, the sounds of the factory still echoing in my ears. Tomorrow would be another day, another chance to enforce the rules. And I’d be there, making sure everything ran smoothly. After all, someone had to do it.
Attachments
8 months…
Mmmmm, extra pay AND benefits, eh???
Hmmmm, it’s already compulsory here, but the consequences are a little less severe!
Well on current form he could be one of your new arrivals!
This is actually a horror story to my mind…
Such a breezy read, and incredibly casual brutality. I think it’s really horror genre, but very readable. Well done.
thecuriousone
Tribune
90%chatgpt sorry for that