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Synthetic Agony (story)

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Chapter 7: Depths​

I begin pleading with everything I have, but my words still come out as little more than a whimper in a foreign language.

"Mom? Dad? Please help me! It's me! It's your daughter!"

My parents ignore my pleas. My father climbs onto the stage and begins stripping off his clothes. He's well built. I knew he kept himself in shape, but it's been a long time since I've seen him shirtless. Even at over 50 he's probably more muscular than most men half his age.

I can't stop the tears from falling.

"No! Please, no! Don't do this! It's your daughter!"

My father pulls off his loincloth and stands naked in front of me. His member is erect and his eyes are relaxed. Filled with a casual cruelty so terrifying that I shiver. He takes a deep breath and lets out a relaxed sigh.

"God, it's been so long. The funeral planning and dealing with her trust have been so stressful."

"Yes, the media has especially been a pain to deal with." my mother says.

"Well, we always knew this day might come, but at least it's over now. It's like we always tell our customers. When life gets hard, sometimes you just need an escape." He says with a chuckle.

My father steps close to me and presses his large chest against my breasts. He reaches behind me and grips my ass cheeks with his hands. He's close. I can smell the familiar scent of his cologne. I moan in dread. He grips my chin in his hands.

"The crown of thorns might get in the way. Do you want me to tear it off?" he asks.

"I kind of like the way it looks. Let's work around it. It'll add something of a challenge." My mother replies back.

My father squeezes and gropes at the soft flesh of my ass and thighs.

"I'm sorry, darling, but this one is just too pretty. I can't wait." he says.

My father guides his hips forward. I feel his hot erection pressing against my sex and I start begging and screaming with everything I have left.

"No! NO! STOP! DAD! PLEASE!!"

I struggle against the nails, trying to pull myself free, but the pain and the exhaustion have drained too much strength from my body. My father ignores my desperate pleas and pushes his hips forward. His cock presses between my sore tender lips. Then he forces himself inside of me.

He moans and I scream.

He pulls back and thrusts again.

"No.. daddy... Please don't." I beg weakly.

"Oh God, that's good." He groans.

His cock slides deeper into my pussy and his hands move to my hips. He uses his grip to pull my pelvis toward him and his cock penetrates even deeper.

The pain is horrendous. Each thrust causes the nails to tear my flesh and scrape my bones. Nausea wells up in my stomach. I begin coughing and retching, but only spittle comes out.

"That's a good little princess. Take my cock." he grunts.

My father thrusts and forces himself deeper. He's breathing heavily and his cock twitches inside of me. His fingers dig into the soft wounded flesh of my ass cheeks, leaving bloody marks on my skin. Strong hands that used to stroke my hair in the hospital now tear at my tender flesh.

"That's it. That's it." He says.

I try to struggle, but every movement just causes the nails to tear through my wrists and feet and sends fresh waves of pain and panic coursing through my body. The only way to avoid that pain is to stop fighting and let him rape me.

My father thrusts again, pushing deeper. Then my mother steps onto the platform next to him. She's also naked. Even through my tears I can see that she looks good for her age and has clearly put in as much work into her appearance as my father. A curvy mature body that has been kept in shape by a strict diet and constant exercise. I don't think I've ever seen her eat bread.

Her eyes though are cold and cruel and burn with malice. I’ve only seen that look in her eyes once before, when she was discussing a rival business, but I never imagined the sadistic cruelty that fueled that fire. It scares me. My eyes dart downward. She's holding a branding iron. It's tip glows hot.

"I need you to lean back for a moment, darling." she says.

Dad arches his chest away from me. She presses the red-hot iron against my exposed ribcage and there is a hiss followed by hideous burning pain. It hurts. I scream and struggle. My father continues thrusting, and the pain from the nails keeps me from pulling away. I'm pinned in place and forced to endure the pain. The only thing I can do is scream.

I'm being raped by my own father and branded by my own mother.

My mind is collapsing.

"Why are you doing this?" I cry out.

My mother looks at me, but there's no recognition in her eyes. They're filled with sadistic joy.

She doesn't reply. Instead she switches the brand to her other hand and holds it against the other side of my ribs. My father leans back again and she presses it against my skin. There is a hiss and the stench of burning flesh fills my nose. The pain is overwhelming.

"AAAAAIIIIIEEEE!" I scream.

"Oh, I'm almost there. She gets real tight when you do that." My father moans.

My mother moves the brands up and presses it against the soft skin beneath my breast. I dance and writhe as the nails are torn through my flesh, but my father's grip keeps me pinned in place as he continues to thrust into me.

The pain is unbearable, but it's not just the pain. This is too much. It's too cruel.

My father begins thrusting faster and harder until he is fucking me like an animal. The pain rises to a fever pitch and I begin screaming, but his hands grip my hair and force my head to tilt at an angle. He tilts his own head the opposite way to avoid the thorns and leans forward. Then he begins kissing me, smashing his healthy lips against my cracked and bloody ones and invading my mouth with his tongue. My cries are muffled by his mouth.

His thrusts now are frantic. His member slides through the wounded pink folds of my womanhood with the savage intensity of a madman. Then his cock bulges inside of me and he presses himself inside as far as he will go. His tip rams against my cervix.

We both cry out. My father lets out a guttural roar and releases his seed inside of me, and I let out a high-pitched wail that echoes across the night sky. My mother presses the branding iron against my ass cheek. I scream even louder and instinctively push myself away from the searing heat, and press my father even deeper inside of me. He lets out another moan of pleasure and shudders.

My mother lifts the brands and steps away from me. My father pulls out of me. He is still panting and trying to catch his breath. I am sobbing. My body trembles wildly.

My father looks at my mother a wide smile on his face.

"She was fantastic. Your turn now, dear." he says.

My mother walks to the other side of the platform and sets the branding irons back in the brazier. She grabs the pincers from the table and gives them a menacing snap.

"I think I'd like to do some foreplay first. Really get her warmed up." She says with a smile.

"I guess I'll help you out with that then." my father replies as he picks up a whip.

Both of them step toward me. I look at them with pleading eyes. The pain and humiliation are too much. The wrongness is too much. I can't handle this anymore.

"Mommy, daddy pl-please don't. It's me. It's your d-daughter." I beg. My voice comes out as a whimpering whisper.

My father cracks the whip and lashes my thighs. I jump and scream.

"Aaaaauuuggghh!"

Another crack. Another lash. Another scream.

Then I feel metal bite into my flesh. A burning pain on my nipple. The pincers.

"I've got the right side. You do the left." my mother says.

She squeezes down on the pincers. Hard. Then she slowly starts to twist. I scream and thrash. The pain is indescribable.

My father's whip bites into the tender flesh of my thighs.

"AAAAAAAHHH!"

My screams echo into the darkness.

I don't know how much time passes, but I am viscerally aware of each and every second. They work down my body methodically, my mother crushing my skin until it bleeds and my father lashing it with the whip. Pincers dig into the sensitive skin of my calves and the whip lashes across my nipples. My father lashes my armpit and my mother twists and crushes my clit.

Then they switch sides and repeat the process over again.

They know exactly which spots hurt most as they target the most vulnerable places on my naked body. They move with a practiced efficiency that can only come from experience. They've done this before. A lot.

My throat is raw from screaming. Everything is in constant agony. I beg them for mercy continuously, but my pleading only makes them more enthusiastic.

They keep at it for what feels like an eternity. When they're done, my entire body is covered with cuts and welts and bruises. My nipples are swollen and bloodied. My thighs are so lacerated that I almost can't see skin anymore.

Then my mother pulls the burning iron rod from the brazier and holds it between my legs.

"Spread her apart will you dear?" My mother says.

My father does as she says, using his thick fingers to part the sore lips of my pussy.

My eyes widen. I beg incoherently. I shake my head as if that will change her mind.

"MOMMY! MOMMY! NO!" I shriek.

My mother ignores me and slowly moves the rod toward my waiting folds. She teases it forward slowly, enjoying my panicked pleading as the orange tip works its way closer to my spread open sex.

Then she shoves the burning rod deep inside of me.

The pain is excruciating. I throw my head back and let out a shriek that seems to go on forever.

The smell of my own burning flesh fills my nostrils and I can feel the muscles inside of me contracting violently around the rod. She shoves and twists the iron further inside. The pain is excruciating. I feel like I'm going to pass out, but I'm not that lucky. Instead, I dance wildly on the cross, desperate to escape the pain, but all I can manage is a spasmodic quaking of my naked body. The rod stays inside me. Then she shoves the iron in all the way until the burning tip hits my cervix. My vocal chords tear. Stars dance across my vision.

She holds it there for a moment, watching my naked body writhe and scream with a gleeful look on her face.

Then she rips the rod out.

I convulse violently, shrieking into the darkness. Every muscle I have spasms and sweat flies off of my drenched skin.

My parents chuckle.

"I think that's warmed up enough" My mother says.

My father hands something to my mother and she begins putting it on.

I look through blurry eyes and then I see what she's putting on. I gasp in horror. It's a strap-on, but it's not like the ones I've seen before. One end, her end, is a fairly normal penis-like shape. The other end, my end, looks like something from a medieval torture dungeon. It's a metal rod, but it's thick, rough, and dotted by small spikes.

I shake my head and start struggling.

"No...please. Mommy... please...." I beg.

"This one has a lot of fight in her. Justin really outdid himself this time." my mother says.

My father steps off of the platform to make way for my mother. She approaches, holding the massive iron cock in her hands. One hand grips my waist and she wraps the other around the artificial member. I smell her perfume mixed with the stench of my own burned flesh. She rubs the steel tip along the length of my slit and pushes the end inside of me.

I am struggling with everything I have left, but my mother just grips my waist harder. Then she thrusts, driving the massive cock deep into my cunt.

"aaaaahhhhh!" I scream weakly.

My mother grips my hips and pushes the rod completely inside of me. The spikes rip into the burned and torn folds of my sex and scrape my cervix. Tears stream down my face. Blood trickles from my ruined pussy.

"Mommy... stop...!" I whisper.

My mother is relentless. She grips my hips and forces herself deeper. Her thrust is hard and vicious. The small spikes scrape and tear and I shriek.

I hear the whip crack and a searing pain blossoms across my back. I buck my hips instinctively and push my mother even deeper inside of me. My father is behind me with the whip, striking again and again. Each lash is a burst of agony. I'm screaming and dancing. The nails are ripping my hands and feet to pieces. My mother begins to move her hips, fucking me harder and harder. The pain is everywhere. My mind is overloaded. I can't handle this anymore.

With every stroke of the whip and thrust of her cock, a perverse pressure builds within me.

"please..." I whisper.

The whip strikes. My mother fucks. I can't think. I can't speak. I can't do anything. All I can do is scream and shake. The pain and pressure is all there is.

My mother is fucking me harder and harder. She grips my hips and forces her cock deep inside of me. The torment is overwhelming. Her thrusts are violent. Hard. Relentless. The spikes tear into me. She slams her bare hips into mine over and over and over again.

My body trembles. The pain is all-consuming. My screams are endless.

"Mo-mom..." I whisper.

I feel her cock twitch inside of me and I know what's about to happen.

"Mommy... Please... no..." I plead.

My mother lets out a guttural moan and a spray of her juices splashes against my stomach. She collapses against me and presses her body against mine, driving the steel shaft even deeper inside of me. Her soft perfect breasts press against my ruined ones. At that my own orgasm rips through my body, sending a squirt of clear liquid onto my mother's thigh.

I collapse against her. Blood and my own juices trickle down my legs and pool at my feet. I'm gasping for breath. My heart is racing. I'm too overwhelmed to even scream.

"That was amazing, dear." My father says.

"It was. We'll have to ask Justin what the special sauce for this one was." My mother replies.

I hang there limp. Unable to move. My vision blurs and stars dance across my view.

"Well that was quite enjoyable. We should go though. We've got a meeting in a couple of hours. We'll have plenty more opportunities to use her." my father says.

"That we will." My mother agrees. "Just one more thing."

She picks up the iron from the brazier again and holds it between my legs.

"Need to cauterize those wounds. Wouldn't want her bleeding out too early." She says with a smirk.

Then she shoves it deep into my sex again.

"AAAHHHH!" I scream.

My body spasms and shakes. The pain is overwhelming. I can't think. I can't breathe. My world is fire and pain. I am in hell.

"God, she's beautiful when she screams like that." My mother says.

She pulls the brand out and drops it back into the brazier. She runs her fingers through my sweat-drenched red hair. Then she kisses me softly on the lips.

"See you again soon, dear."

Both of my parents clean themselves off and dress themselves as if nothing had happened. Then they walk off together into the night chatting excitedly about what an excellent fuck toy I was.

I'm left alone in the darkness.

Aching.

Broken.

Empty.

I hang there and try to catch my breath. My mind is scrambled. I'm trying to make sense of what just happened. Of the nightmare I'm living.

But I can't.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

I hang there, naked and bleeding, and I weep.
 

Chapter 8: Death​

I am exhausted beyond words. My entire body is a mass of bruises, burns, and lacerations. I hang limply on the cross. My shoulders and wrists are aching from the strain of holding my body weight. My feet and wrists are a bloody broken mess. There is no part of me that does not hurt.

I try to sleep, but can only achieve brief moments of unconsciousness before my body jolts awake needing oxygen and I am forced to push myself up on the cross to breathe. I continue to cry, but my tears eventually go dry.

I try not to think about what just happened. I try to avoid remembering what my parents just did to me, but my weary mind can’t accept it as reality.

I tell myself that they were actors. Replicas of our parents that Justin sent to torment me. I tell myself that my real parents would never do this, but even as I make these arguments too many questions I have about my parent’s lives click into place. The late nights they spent at the park while telling me they were working, the way my parents would react to torture scenes in movies, and all of the dungeons and public executions that they built into the park. They’re all damning evidence of my parents depravity. I know what lies underneath their immaculate facade.

My parents are sadistic monsters.

I retch again on the cross, but nothing comes out. I try to remember the good times with my parents, but every memory is corroded by the tortures they inflicted on me. My father gently stroking my shoulders becomes him grabbing my bloody back and pressing my naked body up against his. My mother gently holding my hand becomes her grabbing my wrists and fucking me bloody.

I collapse into overwhelming despair. I don’t want this. I don’t want any more of this. I want to die.

Sometime during the night the strain on my shoulder becomes unbearable. A short moment later it pops out of the socket with a sickening sound. The sudden shock of the pain causes me to scream with my ragged vocal chords. Hanging from my dislocated shoulder is as painful as hanging from the nails. I try to use my tired legs to shift my weight to my uninjured shoulder, but it only helps a little. Some time later the strain dislocates that one too.

I hang there in agony, my shoulders screaming in pain.

I can barely think. I can't even remember what it was like to not feel overwhelming pain and humiliation. Maybe this is all I have ever felt.

I pray for death to come, but my tired legs continue to push beyond their limits and lift me upward every time I need to breathe. I try to force them to stop. I tell them that there’s no point. They don’t listen though, and continue to keep me in this torment. My body still wants to live, but I don’t.

I don't know how long I hang there, but eventually the first rays of dawn peek over the hills.

My entire body is trembling. My breath comes in short shallow bursts.

"So, you're still alive?" a familiar voice calls.

My eyes travel upward. Varius is approaching with a group of soldiers.

I struggle to find my voice.

"Kill... me... " I manage to squeak out.

"You're in rough shape though. Those guests really did a number on you last night. But first things first. We've got to do a nail check."

Varius grabs a hammer and steps onto the platform. Then he smashes the hammer against the nail in my left wrist. Pain explodes from the point of impact. I jerk and spasm weakly, and let out a quiet whimper. I don't have the strength for anything else.

"Well, looks like that one's secured. You really worked it loose. You must've been struggling hard last night." He says with a laugh.

Then he hammers the other three nails until they are equally secure. Each one hurts just as much. I barely react. I don’t have the strength.

He steps back to inspect his handiwork.

"You know, you really are a beautiful girl, even with all the blood and bruises."

He runs his hand down the side of my face and traces the outline of my breast with his finger.

"Your breasts are just perfect. Nice and firm. The crowd really loved them. But you already knew that didn't you? You're quite the little slut." He says.

He moves his hand lower and runs it over the smooth skin of my stomach.

"It's a shame we have to kill you. We could have really made some money off of your pussy. It's so tight and hot."

He rubs my mound and slips a finger inside of me. He slides it back and forth and smiles.

"Still pretty tight even after all that stretching. You really do have a wonderful little cunt. And your ass. It's not often that we get such a pretty piece of ass. You should be proud."

He slaps my ass hard. The pain is intense, but I can only flinch weakly. He then shifts his hand to my clit and pinches it with monstrous strength. The pain is agonizing, like bolts lightning erupting through my lower half, but I’m too weak to even scream. Instead I groan weakly and squirm, unable to defend myself.

He stops after a few hard twists and walks off the platform.

"She's too weak for anything fun. Finish her off." Varius orders.

"Any preference on how we do it?" One of the soldiers asks.

Varius stops to think for a moment.

"Fuck her to death. It's a fitting end for a whore." He says with a sadistic smile.

The soldiers chuckle and begin stripping off their clothes as they approach my cross.

Varius and the others watch as the first man steps onto the platform, takes position in front of me, and presses his cock against my ruined slit.

"You're lucky. You're going to die feeling pleasure." He says.

"Not sure this pussy will be able to take a whole dick though. It's pretty messed up." Another says.

"She's so broken I doubt she'll feel it anyway. Besides, you can always stick it in her ass." The man in front of me says.

They all laugh.

Then man shoves hard, forcing his entire length deep inside of me. His cock rips into my torn and burnt insides. I gasp.

"Looks like she feels it."

He starts to pump his cock in and out of my sore, bleeding hole. He's pounding me hard. His cock scrapes the edges of the burns and cuts. I need to breathe. I try to press myself up to get air, but he grips my shoulders and pulls me down on his cock, holding me firmly against him. My shoulders scream in pain. I realize with horror that he's not going to let me breathe.

"She's so fucking tight. I'm going to cum." He says.

I struggle desperately, trying to get a breath. He thrusts into me a few more times, grunting as he does. Then his cock twitches and bulges. He grunts and then I feel his warmth inside of me.

"Fuck, that was good. Your turn." He says still keeping a tight grip on my shoulder. I continue to struggle to press upward, but he doesn't let go.

Another man climbs onto the platform and lines up his member. He wraps his hands around my throat to keep me in place. Then he shoves his cock inside of me.

He starts pounding my pussy, hard. The pain is incredible. I can't breathe. I try to push him off, but he's too strong. He's choking me and fucking me at the same time. My heart begins to pound. My head feels like it's going to explode.

I can't think. All I can do is fight for air. Spots dance across the edge of my vision.

"Fucking whore." He grunts as he thrusts.

He pounds me a few more times, then he shoots his load into me. He pulls out and steps back still gripping my throat. I am spasming wildly now. My body is desperate for air.

"Holy shit, her pussy is amazing when she’s choking." He says.

The third man approaches, gripping his cock.

"Shit, I don't think she's going to last much longer. Let me in before I'm fucking a corpse."

He forces his cock into my cunt and begins fucking me hard. His hands squeeze my tits to force me in place. My mouth is open wide trying to suck in oxygen, but nothing enters my lungs.

He thrusts wildly, desperate to get his load off. I can barely hear his grunts over the sound of my own pounding heartbeat. Darkness clouds my vision. I'm struggling desperately now. My vision is going black.

I can't hear them now. Their voices sound like they're underwater. I can't even feel his thrusts. My naked body spasms wildly and darkness fills my vision.

And then darkness takes everything else.

I feel myself slipping away.

Death finally comes for me.

I welcome it. Embrace it.

Anything is better than this.
 

Epilogue​

I wake up with a start. I'm lying down. It's dark. Is it night out?

I try to sit up, but am jerked back to the stone floor by the iron collar around my neck. Reality crashes over me like a cold wave of water.

I am Princess Aisling, daughter of the king of Eirenoch. And I am a prisoner of Rome. My father resisted the Rome's conquest of their land, and was slain in the conflict. A conflict that my tribe ultimately lost. I was captured and brought back to Rome to serve as an example of what happens to Rome's enemies.

I steady my breathing then look down in the darkness at my shabby dress. It is a far cry from the lavish garments I was accustomed to wearing in Eirenoch. Instead, I wear a plain linen shift that's much too short, and with no undergarments underneath. I blush at the indecency of the dress.

I do my best to shift the chains around so that I can sit up straight. I straighten out my dress. Even with my nation conquered I remain a princess. The daughter of a king. I will remain dignified no matter what these Roman bastards do to me. I pray to the gods that-

That… wait...

I'm not Aisling. I'm not a princess. I'm a girl from a rich family, but I'm not royalty. My name... is...

I can't remember my name. Why can't I remember my name?

Panic begins to set in. Who am I? Why can't I remember my own name? What-

"Good, looks like the programming is kicking in as expected."

I turn to the voice, my breath catching in my throat. A dark silhouette stands behind me holding a glowing tablet. He steps out of the shadows and as I see his face I realize that I know who he is.

Justin. My brother. I remember him.

Then I remember everything else.

Stripped naked before a crowd, my back being flayed open and burned, Titus raping me in front of the cheering masses, and being forced to carry my cross. I feel a twinge of guilt at violating the two crucified girls on the hill and then nausea as I remember being being nailed to the crossbeam and raped by countless men. I remember being raised on the cross. The agony of hanging on the cross with spikes through my hands and feet flashes with disturbing clarity through my mind, and the helplessness and humiliation of being crucified naked before the world suddenly feels vividly real.

And then my parents. Mom and Dad coming to me in the night and....

I hug myself and begin retching bile onto the floor of my cell. Tears stream down my cheeks and I find it hard to breathe.

Justin chuckles. "Looks like there's still plenty of you left in there dear sister."

I spit out the last of the bile from my mouth and wipe my lips with the back of my hand.

"What... What are you doing here?"

To my shock, my words come out in English. I nearly cry from relief at the sound of my own voice.

Justin steps in front of me.

"Just wanted to have one last conversation. Say my final goodbyes."

Panic takes over. Tears fall freely and I clasp my hands together as if in prayer. I look up at him in complete desperation.

"Justin please, don't do this. I'm sorry for everything! I'll do anything! Please!" I plead.

"As satisfying as it is to hear you beg, I'm afraid we're short on time. It won't be long before the soldiers come to pick you up. So, you get three questions to ask me. I promise I'll answer truthfully. It's our last conversation after all. No point in lying."

Every part of me wants to ignore him and continue pleading, but his eyes are looking at me with a merciless finality and I know that nothing will change his mind. There is no coming back from this. At the very least I might be able to get some clue on how to escape.

I force myself to steady my breathing. I ask the first question I think of.

"Mom and Dad... were they...?"

"Real? Yes, that was really them. They weren't actors. I suppose you wouldn't know given how much time you spent in a hospital bed, but they're quite the deviants. Maybe even more than me. You only saw the proper socially acceptable side of them. The side they showed to friends and the media. But you don't spend trillions creating hyper-realistic humanoid replicas without having at least one or two twisted thoughts about what you could do to them.”

“The rich and powerful pay millions for the opportunity to do some really fucked up stuff to our actors, and our parents are no exception. The reality of this entire park is that they made it so that they could fulfill their own dark desires."

He leans in close and smiles.

"Desires that you got to experience firsthand."

I shudder. Then a horrible thought occurs to me.

"Am... am I the first?"

Justin laughs.

"No, no of course not. The first was some whore I spent a night with who got pregnant and wouldn't get rid of it. She was threatening me with child support so I had to get rid of her. That one was only partially successful. The other one was my first wife. Yeah you remember her. She didn't die in a boating accident. She wanted out of the marriage, and I couldn't have that. So, I perfected the process and put her in the park."

Sarah. I liked her. She visited me in the hospital often, and she had the most beautiful singing voice. Her death devastated me for months.

"You actually saw them both recently. Well, what was left of them anyway. You really didn't have to bite my ex-wife's clit like that, but I enjoyed the enthusiasm. Made for a good show."

I stare at him in horror. Dread floods through my body like an icy torrent. Sarah is alive. She's alive and I humiliated her and hurt her. She's been alive for three years, which means that every day for three years she's been crucified. Every day-

I retch again.

"In case you were wondering, I have no regrets." Justin says. "They got what they deserved. Soon you will too."

"You... You're a monster. I can't believe-"

"Ah ah, one more question. That's not a question."

I breathe deep and try to compose myself. The horror of the situation is too much. If she's been suffering like this for three years then-

"What will happen to me?"

Justin leans back and smiles.

"You'll be crucified of course. Over and over again. Probably for decades. Don't worry though, I programmed some creativity into Varius. Did you like him? I actually modeled him after my own psyche. He'll mix things up. Make it interesting. It'll never be the same thing twice. Couldn't have a boring show now."

"The good news is that you won't experience it indefinitely. I'm sure you've already noticed it. Thoughts that aren't yours. Memories that you don't recognize. Hell, whole patterns of thinking that-"

"Get to the fucking point!" I scream out desperately.

I know I shouldn’t. I should be dragging this out as long as possible. I should be extracting as much information as I can, but I can’t stand his gloating arrogant bragging.

Justin sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Okay, okay. You'll slowly lose yourself. You will be replaced with the personality and memories of Princess Aisling, daughter to the king of Eirenoch. Eventually, your memories will vanish and Princess Aisling will be all that remains."

I sit there stunned at the cruelty of his plan. He'll kill me in the most horrific way imaginable and he'll do it over and over again. He'll do it until my mind rots away and all that is left is the A.I. that he created. Then he'll keep doing it to the empty shell of who I was.

"If it's any consolation, there wasn't much left of Sarah's mind when you took your little bite out of her. At this point she's almost completely gone. It should take about that long for your mind to erode as well. You should look forward to it. At least then those two people torturing you on the cross will be strangers and not your own parents."

I hear sound of approaching footsteps. Justin smiles.

"It's time." He says.

My breathing begins to grow rapid.

"No, please! Justin don't do this! I'll do anything, just don't do this!" I scream.

He pulls out his tablet and presses the screen.

I continue begging him, but I no longer hear English coming from my mouth.

"Don't worry, eventually you'll forget how to speak English too. I'm sure the insults from the audience will have a little less bite then."

Justin turns to leave. He stops and turns to look at me.

"Goodbye sister."

The prison door opens and Roman soldiers file in and grab me. I scream and struggle, but it's useless. I've done this before, and I know exactly how useless it is. They force me to my feet and lead me out of the room and into the dark hallway.

I try desperately to fight back. To get free. But I am completely outmatched by their strength.

They drag me through the dark corridors of the dungeon and toward the searing daylight of the outside.

My heart beats violently. My breath is ragged. I know what awaits me. The pain. The humiliation. The agony.

And death.

And then the nightmare will begin again.

Again and again and again and again.

Forever.

One of the guards chuckles as he drags me toward the waiting doors. I can hear the bloodlust of the waiting crowd. Their jeering laughter echoes through the hall.

I am dragged out into the harsh daylight, and as my eyes adjust to the searing morning light I hear a familiar gravely voice greet me.

"Welcome to Rome princess. You ready to begin?"


The End
 
breaking taboos here. I've to praise this story for the details of the whole ordeal and the "design" of the main character, the sister. I was really hoping that the two girls on the other crosses weren't synthetic but real persons. In the end that was mentioned so I'm praising and praising this new concept of a story.
 
Unbelievable great work, dark and obscene, thank you for your creation!
Jacktrade said:
I bite the sponge between my teeth and pull it out of the girl, and then I press my lips against the girl's sex. She's squealing now. I begin to ravenously suck out the remaining liquid. She's wet. I suck and lap at her pussy and even though it must be painful, she's writhing on the cross. I push my tongue between her folds and suck furiously. The girl bucks her hips and shrieks as I eat her out. Then she gives a pathetic cry and squirts on my face.

I blink and finally step back. She's screaming and jerking wildly, and I cannot help but stare at her orgasmic writhing dance while stretched out by the excruciating grip of the nails. It's the most erotic and horrifying thing I've ever seen.
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And this is also what I think is the most erotic part, thank you again for your creation!
 
Jacktrade said:
Thank you! The inspiration was lifted directly from @Arcimboldo. Specifically the story and art of 'Judith', which can be found here: https://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/from-arcimboldo-to-r-cimboldo.9050/post-753386
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@Jacktrade I am very proud that you have taken "Judith" (and apparently also the predecessor "Ecce") as a model for your great work of surrealistic fiction.
You put my fetishes so precisely and in detail into words:
The humiliation by nudity and abuse in public. The defiled body, spattered with sweat, blood, sperm and piss. Covered with hematomas and with the marks from scourging and from a huge variety of other torture tools.
The most important thing for me, however, is the (admittedly unrealistic) assumption of sexual arousal on the part of the victim despite all these circumstances. An arousal that feeds off (unconscious or even explicit) narcissism, exhibitionism and masochism.
Thank you!
 
@Arcimboldo Thank you for the kind words! Your works were wonderful inspiration for many of the ordeals that happen in the story.

Concerning your last point, I'd like to add that one of the things that I enjoyed most about the sci-fi nature of the setting was the plausibility that I could inject into my protagonist's sexual arousal. Since her body is synthetic and programmed, it'd make a lot of sense to have her respond in an erotic way for the pleasure of the crowd.
 
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