Andyman
Senator
Samaria gorge (1 of 2)
The end of a Cretan summer was near. But the weather was still wonderful - and murderous in the same time. The sandy and stony path in the valley between the rocky White Mountains, heated by the sun, were burning the bare feet of the Greek convicts. The sunlight did not caress their skin with its rays nor the dry wind with its strokes - they both painfully scourged their naked bodies, stripped of all cover. The same sunlight and wind which razed all the vegetation to the ground, now were slowly sucking the life out of a man and woman, nailed by the Roman soldiers (undressed to the subarmalis tunics) to the wooden beams. The man was hanging silently and nearly motionlessly, with the buttocks squeezed, supported by the additional nail under the crotch. The woman, nailed with her legs outstretched, opened and exposed to the terrible heat, burning her intime parts more painfully that the lust and contempt of the onlookers, was weeping and moaning in pain and shame, alternately lifting her loins up and leaning on a nail, wrapping her labia, still wet with her torturer's semen, around the crude iron. But even the support of the sedile was not able to lengthen their lives. At the noon the wind ceased and the air became hot as hell, her vagina dried up as a dried fig and her groins were scorched with the nearly red hot nail. The skin of the both victims was reddish and aching, their lips were cracked and their eyes ceased to see anything but the hellish shine of this damned sun through the closed lids. They were both croaking and wheezing with tight throats and stiff tongues, rapidly struggling, lifting on the nails, the streams of blood were running down their members and their muscles trembled in an agonizing fever. First they lost their minds. And finally when the sun was going down, they both took their last breaths in turn, unable to withstand the agonizing pain and heat any longer. The soldiers, now in the full armour, looked at them ready to break their legs but there was no need to perform the crurifragium. Their half-mummified bodies were stiff and motionless after sixteen hours of the horrific agony. Of course, no one of the Roman citizens mourned the damned mutineers and their Greek relatives and friends weren't allowed to. Because they were mutineers. Perhaps. All the Cretan Greeks were mutineers! They didn't want to pay taxes and work hard enough for their new lords. They didn't want to cooperate. Let all of them die the same way!
(To be continued)
The end of a Cretan summer was near. But the weather was still wonderful - and murderous in the same time. The sandy and stony path in the valley between the rocky White Mountains, heated by the sun, were burning the bare feet of the Greek convicts. The sunlight did not caress their skin with its rays nor the dry wind with its strokes - they both painfully scourged their naked bodies, stripped of all cover. The same sunlight and wind which razed all the vegetation to the ground, now were slowly sucking the life out of a man and woman, nailed by the Roman soldiers (undressed to the subarmalis tunics) to the wooden beams. The man was hanging silently and nearly motionlessly, with the buttocks squeezed, supported by the additional nail under the crotch. The woman, nailed with her legs outstretched, opened and exposed to the terrible heat, burning her intime parts more painfully that the lust and contempt of the onlookers, was weeping and moaning in pain and shame, alternately lifting her loins up and leaning on a nail, wrapping her labia, still wet with her torturer's semen, around the crude iron. But even the support of the sedile was not able to lengthen their lives. At the noon the wind ceased and the air became hot as hell, her vagina dried up as a dried fig and her groins were scorched with the nearly red hot nail. The skin of the both victims was reddish and aching, their lips were cracked and their eyes ceased to see anything but the hellish shine of this damned sun through the closed lids. They were both croaking and wheezing with tight throats and stiff tongues, rapidly struggling, lifting on the nails, the streams of blood were running down their members and their muscles trembled in an agonizing fever. First they lost their minds. And finally when the sun was going down, they both took their last breaths in turn, unable to withstand the agonizing pain and heat any longer. The soldiers, now in the full armour, looked at them ready to break their legs but there was no need to perform the crurifragium. Their half-mummified bodies were stiff and motionless after sixteen hours of the horrific agony. Of course, no one of the Roman citizens mourned the damned mutineers and their Greek relatives and friends weren't allowed to. Because they were mutineers. Perhaps. All the Cretan Greeks were mutineers! They didn't want to pay taxes and work hard enough for their new lords. They didn't want to cooperate. Let all of them die the same way!
(To be continued)
