The Crux Forum Suicide Circle

[Cycle]

THE CRUX FORUM SUICIDE CIRCLE
A Crux Story by Cycle

It was finally time. In the next few seconds, I would learn my fate. It all came down to random chance. I would either suffer and go home. Or I would suffer and die.

Suddenly, I felt a heavy boot slam into my lower back with so much force, I fell face first into the grey dirt. The boot narrowly missed my hands which had been cuffed behind my back for nearly a week. The leg shackles made it difficult to get back on my feet, so the two black clothed guards grabbed my arms and yanked me up.

Once on my feet, I spit out some the dirt I nearly swallowed when my face hit the ground. As one of the guards prodded me forward, I heard the sound of cheers and applause. I had been told over 500 people had traveled to the small Mediterranean island to see the spectacle. It was a once in a lifetime event that I had actually paid $10,000 to participate in.

We were in an abandoned Roman colosseum on a remote island populated by goats, foxes and birds. It was hot and dusty as my bare feet shuffled over the sharp gravel. The applause quickly quieted down as I approached the small table. One guard sat at the table. Two guards stood behind. Three more steps and I would know my fate.

One of the guards stepped out from behind the table almost as if to greet me. Instead, he looked at my right shoulder. It was covered with dirt and blood from my fall, so he roughly ran his gloved hand over it a few times. My first and only tattoo emerged. It was just five small letters. They spelled out the Crux Forum name everyone knew me by.

“Cycle,” said the guard simply.

The guard seated at desk entered my name in his small laptop. It ran a simple app that would determine my fate. As we waited for the final judgement from the computer, I looked around the colosseum. Eleven posts had been buried in the center. They were arranged in a in a half circle. One post was set in the center. Each unoccupied post had a heavy plank and quarter inch black ropes neatly arranged at it’s foot. The eleventh post, the one in the center, had a heavy plank. But there were no ropes. Instead, three nails and a small sledge hammer rested at the base of the center post.

Five were were already occupied by members of the Circle. A sixth member of the Circle had been tied to his cross piece and was being hauled to to the top of his post. The older man cried out in pain as the cross piece was dropped onto the notch that had been carved at the top. He was older, paunchy and not in very good shape. But like me, he paid a lot of money to be there.

The guards were all dressed in black. Their faces were covered with black bandannas to mask their identities. Most of the people seated in the ancient stands had their faces masked too. Three masked photographers with small, HD video cameras wandered between the crosses. One of the photographers was the famous Imagemaker from Crux Dreams.

As the guards secured the paunchy old man’s feet to the post. One of the photographers came over and pointed the camera directly in my face. While guards and spectators had the option of concealing their faces, those of us selected to be in the Circle had been required to give up our anonymity. That wasn’t all we had to give up. We were also required to take a chance that we would give up our life.

Looking at the six occupied crosses, I realized my odds were getting worse. Six people had already taken the chance of life or death. Now it was my turn. Despite my weakened physical condition, my heart was racing. This was the ultimate game of chance and I was about to hear my fate. The guard looked up at me and frowned.

You may be wondering how we all got here. Six months ago, a few wealthy members of the Crux Forum established the Circle. It would be open to eleven carefully selected members of the Crux Forum community. To apply, you had to submit an on-line application. It was a lengthy questionnaire about your personal crux experience, your ability to pay the entry fee and your willingness to literally sign your life away.

Almost three hundred people applied. Most were eliminated because it had been determined they simply didn’t have the physical stamina to survive the ordeal. The last fifty finalists had to complete a second application. In addition to proving their crux experience and physical health, they had to submit a nude photo. When the final selection was made, Crux Forum members were pleasantly surprised to learn that six Crux Dreams models had made the cut.

Why would anyone want to do this? Of the eleven finalists, nine would walk away with the memories and injuries from being tied to a cross in front of hundreds of spectators. One member of the circle would win or loose the life or death gamble and actually be nailed to their cross and left to die. And one of the survivors, the one who remained on their cross the longest, would walk away with a million dollars.

A month after I applied, a thick, overnight envelope arrived informing me I had made the cut. In it were airplane tickets, a hotel room reservation, a huge packet of legal forms to sign and a list of steps I would take that would end up with my thin, nude body hanging on a cross in an actual Roman colosseum.

Once I arrived at my destination, I would get one last night’s sleep at the hotel, but I would have to get up early. I was to check out of hotel at 4:30 and walk ten blocks to a street corner. There I would wait for a black van. I had a long wait ahead of me giving me time to think. That time would be my last chance to back out. Once I was in the van, I was committed.

Light from the sun was just appearing over the horizon when the black van finally appeared. It stopped in front of me and the side door slid open. A guard dressed in black, with a black bandanna covering his face simply held out his hand. I stared at his had a few moments, then realized what he wanted. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out the legal forms and handed them over. The guard looked at the forms, then at me.

“Last chance,” he simply said.

I tossed my overnight bag and back pack into the van and got in. The van didn’t have windows and all the seats had been taken out. Squatting on my toes, I fell on my back as the van sped off. The guard laughed as he leafed through my legal forms. Once he was satisfied I had signed every page, he looked at me again.

“Strip,” he said.

He pushed a cardboard box at me as I began taking off my clothes. The guard tossed my bags in the box along with my boots, pants and shirt. He nodded in approval as he looked over my clothes. All I ever wore was black tactical pants, heavy black boots and a long sleeved black knit shirt. If it was cold, I wore a black leather jacket.

“Always dressed for a funeral,” the guard observed.

“Always,” I said as I tossed my last boot into the box.

“Turn around and get on your knees,” said the guard.

As I turned, he grabbed one of my wrists and held it behind my back. Before I knew it, my hands were cuffed behind my back and my legs were shackled. Once I was secured, the guard spun me back around. Sitting on the floor of the van, I looked up at the guard. He pressed his index finger against the pale skin on my thin arms. Then he gave my thin, narrow body a quick look and shook his head.

The van twisted and turned through the narrow streets for nearly an hour before coming to a stop. After a few moments, the door opened to reveal the rusty side of a very old trawler. Two guards reached in, grabbed my arms and dragged me out of the van. In the same motion, they walked me three steps toward the ship, then literally threw me into an open cargo door. My box of clothes landed beside me.

As my eyes adjusted to the light, two more guards nearly yanked my arms out of their sockets as they pulled me to my feet. One guard kicked my box next to some others as they dragged me down some stairs. A line of what appeared to be jail type doors lined the companionway. I was thrown in one and the door slammed behind me.

It wasn’t really a jail cell. More like a closet with bars on it. It was standing room only with nothing to sit on. A dirty, rusty bucket rested in the corner and was clearly the toilet. I would remain in that closet for hours and hours before the ship’s engines rattled to life. By the time the engines shut off, I had completely lost track of time. As the guards unlocked the cells, I was told to step out. My leg chains clanked against the metal floor as I stiffly walked into the corridor.

Ten other stripped and cuffed men and women stepped out of their cells. It was one of the only times we would all get a look at each other. There were seven women and three men. Six of the women were young, firm and a few had piercings. These had to be the models from previous Crux Dreams videos. The last woman was middle aged, tall and in pretty good shape.

Of the three men, I wasn’t the youngest or oldest. The older man had once been in good shape, but the years were definitely catching up. The younger man was clearly a body builder. All the women were focused on his totally ripped body. A few looked at me, but quickly looked away. I was the tallest and the thinnest of the group. Clearly the younger man was the favorite for winning the million dollar prize.

We were marched off the boat, up a hill and across a valley to what had once been a beautiful Roman colosseum. Once we got off the dock, the small, sharp stones on the path made it a long, painful walk.

The sub-level of the colosseum was dark, but it was a relief to walk in the cool, stone floor. We continued to march through the maze of underground corridors until we came to a heavy, stone door. The guard leading the way tapped on it once. After a few moments, it swung open to reveal a large room lit by torches. We were clearly in a old Roman dungeon.

The guards lined us up against a wall. We were then motioned up to a guard with a laptop where our identities were confirmed. Once they matched us up with our picture, I found myself in a small room where I was pushed against a stone wall. Two guards firmly held my shoulders, a third wrapped his arm around my neck in a stiff head lock. The last guard walked over to me with a tattoo gun in his hand. After a few minutes of pain, he swabbed the tattoo, then covered it with clear tape.

I would spend the next five days in a small, dark cell with a heavy metal door. That door would only open once a day. A masked guard would deliver a fresh bucket of water, a dog bowl filled with food and a fresh empty bucket. It wasn’t a lot of food either.

The cell was very old and very dirty. The only light came from under the door and from the torch a second guard carried at feeding time. After the third day, I was covered in dirt. Because I remained cuffed and shackled the entire time, my face was covered with grease from the food in the dog bowl.

On the fifth day, the guards delivered a dog bowl with double the amount of food. As the door closed, the guard informed me that my ordeal would begin that afternoon. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened again and I found myself standing in front of a crowd of 500 people and a computer that would determine whether I would live or die. The guard frowned as he gave me the ancient Roman sign that I would not be nailed to my cross.

(continue on to part 2)

 

[Cycle]

THE CRUX FORUM SUICIDE CIRCLE - PART 2
by Cycle

As I was dragged to my cross, the crowd was booing. Clearly they wanted to see the pale skinny guy nailed instead of tied. I was thrown to the ground at the base of my cross. Just as soon as the guards removed my handcuffs, I was dragged on to the heavy cross piece and felt my wrists being tightly tied to rough wood. Moments later, my entire body violently jerked down as the cross piece was dropped on the post. Pain shot through my arms and shoulders as my wrists bore my thin body’s weight. Moments later, I felt the leg shackles being removed and my feet were tightly tied to the post.

Almost immediately, I felt pressure building in my chest. It was already hard to breathe. My entire body was covered in sweat. Looking down, I was surprised to see how sexually stimulated I had become. As the guards walked back to collect their next victim, one of them slapped my penis and laughed. I looked up at the afternoon sun shining in my face and felt my pale skin begin to sizzle. Looking at each wrist, I began slowly pressing with my legs and felt my body rise a few inches.

As my body rose, I noticed two things. First, the crowd began cheering as I did my first Crux Dance. Looking out, I saw more than a few of them pointing at me and my large, rigid penis. It appeared that a few people were exchanging money. Clearly someone had lost a wager. As I stood on my cross, I also noticed the rope savagely digging into the soft flesh between my toes. The guards had tied my feet in a way that only the soft skin would take my body’s weight when I was standing.

As I stood, I saw the next victim had arrived at the computer table. It was one of the Crux Dreams models, one I thought I recognized. As the guard announced her name, I felt my blood run cold. It was my favorite model, Alice and her chances of being the unlucky member of the Circle were better than mine. Looking into the guard’s face as he tapped her name into the laptop, I saw fear building in her eyes. You could have heard pin drop as he announced the computer’s verdict.

A few minutes later, Alice was hoisted onto the post next to mine. The computer had spared her life. Even with the growing pain in my feet, I remained standing as I ran my eyes over her body. It had been more than a few years since Alice appeared in her video, but she remained in excellent shape.

After recovering from the shock of being dropped onto her post, Alice began looking around. A lot of people in the crowd were pointing at her, clearly happy she wasn’t the one who would loose their life. Her eyes ran across the crowd, then she looked at the seven other people hanging beside her. Then her eyes stopped on me. Clearly she wasn’t impressed with my pale, thin body. But she at least nodded in approval as she noticed I was still VERY sexually aroused.

I smiled at her, then looked toward the table as the next victim appeared. It was another one of the Crux Dreams models. She was just as dirty as the rest of us as she shuffled across the colosseum to hear his fate. The crowd noise disappeared as the guard tapped her name into the computer. She had a fifty-fifty chance of loosing her life.

The next sound everyone heard was her cry of fear and anguish as she learned the computer had selected her for death. The small woman struggled as the guards dragged her over to the post in the center of the colosseum She was forced to kneel in front of the audience as the last victim was brought out and quickly taken to the final post. The body builder had been spared death and was quickly tied to his cross.

The small woman kneeling in the center of the colosseum was shaking with fear. She quietly sobbed as the guards folded up the table and left. Two more guards appeared as all the video cameras focused on the small woman. Her handcuffs and shackles were removed, but she was left kneeling for all to see. Finally, she nodded her head firmly, stood and walked calmly to the post.

The ancient Roman colosseum remained silent as she looked at the rough wood she would soon be nailed to. Clearly, the party atmosphere had changed. After a few more moments, she calmly lay down on the ground with her head resting on the heavy wood plank. Two of the guards firmly held her arms out on the wood. On guard sat on her chest. The last picked up the spikes and hammer.

I looked over at Alice who had tears streaming down her cheeks. The body builder was just rising up for his first Crux Dance. Some of the other victims were crying too. Everyone’s attention was focused on the center of the colosseum as the first blow of the hammer struck.

It was hard to believe such a loud, deep howl of anguish and pain could come from such a small woman. The cry reverberated across the colosseum as the hammer kept falling. It only took two swings of the hammer to firmly nail the wrist to the wood. Two swings of the hammer later, and the guards began hoisting the heavy plank up the post to it’s final resting place. Another, deep howl of pain and anguish rumbled across the colosseum as the woman’s body violently snapped as the cross piece was dropped into place.

No one said a word as the guards pushed her knees up and apart as they nailed her delicate feet to the post. It took three blows of the hammer and the job was done. The woman moaned as her body began slightly shifting on the cross in a desperate, but futile attempt to receive the pain. The next loud moan became her last howl of pain as she pushed her body up the cross in her first dance.

The ten other victims were slowly rising and falling as they danced the afternoon away. The sun continued it’s arc across the sky as dusk fell across the colosseum. As it touched the horizon, the golden sun illuminated the colosseum and the eleven bodies hanging on their crosses. Even my pale skin appeared golden in the last light of the day.

Before darkness fell, I looked up and down at the other’s on their crosses. Because of the way the guards had tied our feet, blood was slowly oozing down each cross. Each dance on the cross became progressively more painful as the ropes dug into the soft flesh between all of our toes.

Soon, the guards reappeared and began building bonfires around the crosses. It was then that members of the audience were allowed to leave the stands to more closely examine the victims. They each silently waked up to the center cross. A few bowed their heads. More than a few reached up and touched her bloody feet. After a few moments, they would then file past the rest of the victims. Once the center cross was behind them, they would begin talking quietly among themselves.

Most clearly favored the body builder on the end as the one who would stay up the longest. Others liked one or more of the models. As they walked past my cross, they looked up and pointed at my still firmly erect penis. A few of them touched it. One older woman stroked it a few times.

From my spot, I looked at Alice every now and then. Blood had appeared between her toes from the rope. But she was still moving up and down, receiving pressure on her wrists, arms and chest. Looking down, I saw a few of the spectators had brought food and wine with them. After examining each of the bodies hanging in the colosseum, they would gather around the bonfires, eat, talk and occasionally laugh.

It was probably around midnight that the first body was cut down from it’s cross. The older, paunchy man lasted more than six hours, but that was it. As soon as he came down, three of the models called it quits too. Once off the cross, they were showered with food and drink. But none of the former victims were not allowed to get dressed. The old man lay down by a fire and went to sleep. The models immediately went to the center cross to show their respect. One lay down at the foot of the cross and refused food.

By the next morning, the body builder, the middle aged woman, Alice and I remained hanging in the colosseum. I had no illusions that I would win, but I was determined to remain on my cross until the woman on the center cross died. I felt it was my duty to her. The pain in my arms had become a dull throb. But pain stabbed through my feet every time I pressed my body upward. I caught a glimpse of Alice as she started another dance, her face was contorted in pain too.

Then, later that morning, the body builder surprised everyone and asked to cut down from his cross. That afternoon, the middle aged woman came down. As the sun set a second night, only Alice and I remained.

The woman on the center cross died that night. No one heard or saw anything. But when the sun came the third morning, her chest had stopped moving and her skin turned grey.

Around midday, the guards looked up at Alice and asked if she wanted to come down. She was barely able to shake her head no. Then they asked me if I wanted to come down. I shook my head no too. An hour or so later, Alice and I looked at each other. I mouthed one word …

“Together,” I said.

She looked at the dead woman on the center cross, then back at me. She slowly nodded her head. After a few moments of talking among themselves the guards agreed and we were cut down together.

We were both in bad shape and could only lay at the bottom of our crosses. Our bodies were bruised and dirty. Our fingers could barely hold the food that was offered to us. Our feet were a bloody mess. After an hour or so, Alice looked at me and nodded toward the center cross. I nodded back and we both slowly began pushing ourselves up off the ground.

Holding onto my cross, I took several deep breaths and staggered over to Alice. Arm in arm, we helped each other limp over to the center cross. The crowd parted as we made our way, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in the gravel. When we arrived at the center cross, we both placed our hands on the dead woman’s feet to honor her.

The old man had left the colosseum hours before, but the remaining nine filthy, bruised, nude victims all gathered at the base of the center cross. After a few more moments of showing respect, we all turned. Arm and arm, we left the colosseum together.

The first ever Crux Forum Suicide Circle was complete.
—————————————————————————————————————
Author’s note: Of course, I would never advocate suicide and always suggest safety. This is a purely fictional Crux story. But now it’s your turn. Is a million dollars enough for you to risk an awful death like this? Would you even sign up? How long would you last? If you were a spectator, how would you feel watching something like this?

 

[Jollyrei]

Nicely intense story. The roulette build up was very effective.

 

[Loxuru]

A very good story, Cycle, and well written. You convey well the atmosphere of the event.

One would almost apply for the next edition!

 

[rb1956]

THE CRUX FORUM SUICIDE CIRCLE - PART 2
by Cycle

As I was dragged to my cross, the crowd was booing. Clearly they wanted to see the pale skinny guy nailed instead of tied. I was thrown to the ground at the base of my cross. Just as soon as the guards removed my handcuffs, I was dragged on to the heavy cross piece and felt my wrists being tightly tied to rough wood. Moments later, my entire body violently jerked down as the cross piece was dropped on the post. Pain shot through my arms and shoulders as my wrists bore my thin body’s weight. Moments later, I felt the leg shackles being removed and my feet were tightly tied to the post.

Almost immediately, I felt pressure building in my chest. It was already hard to breathe. My entire body was covered in sweat. Looking down, I was surprised to see how sexually stimulated I had become. As the guards walked back to collect their next victim, one of them slapped my penis and laughed. I looked up at the afternoon sun shining in my face and felt my pale skin begin to sizzle. Looking at each wrist, I began slowly pressing with my legs and felt my body rise a few inches.

As my body rose, I noticed two things. First, the crowd began cheering as I did my first Crux Dance. Looking out, I saw more than a few of them pointing at me and my large, rigid penis. It appeared that a few people were exchanging money. Clearly someone had lost a wager. As I stood on my cross, I also noticed the rope savagely digging into the soft flesh between my toes. The guards had tied my feet in a way that only the soft skin would take my body’s weight when I was standing.

As I stood, I saw the next victim had arrived at the computer table. It was one of the Crux Dreams models, one I thought I recognized. As the guard announced her name, I felt my blood run cold. It was my favorite model, Alice and her chances of being the unlucky member of the Circle were better than mine. Looking into the guard’s face as he tapped her name into the laptop, I saw fear building in her eyes. You could have heard pin drop as he announced the computer’s verdict.

A few minutes later, Alice was hoisted onto the post next to mine. The computer had spared her life. Even with the growing pain in my feet, I remained standing as I ran my eyes over her body. It had been more than a few years since Alice appeared in her video, but she remained in excellent shape.

After recovering from the shock of being dropped onto her post, Alice began looking around. A lot of people in the crowd were pointing at her, clearly happy she wasn’t the one who would loose their life. Her eyes ran across the crowd, then she looked at the seven other people hanging beside her. Then her eyes stopped on me. Clearly she wasn’t impressed with my pale, thin body. But she at least nodded in approval as she noticed I was still VERY sexually aroused.

I smiled at her, then looked toward the table as the next victim appeared. It was another one of the Crux Dreams models. She was just as dirty as the rest of us as she shuffled across the colosseum to hear his fate. The crowd noise disappeared as the guard tapped her name into the computer. She had a fifty-fifty chance of loosing her life.

The next sound everyone heard was her cry of fear and anguish as she learned the computer had selected her for death. The small woman struggled as the guards dragged her over to the post in the center of the colosseum She was forced to kneel in front of the audience as the last victim was brought out and quickly taken to the final post. The body builder had been spared death and was quickly tied to his cross.

The small woman kneeling in the center of the colosseum was shaking with fear. She quietly sobbed as the guards folded up the table and left. Two more guards appeared as all the video cameras focused on the small woman. Her handcuffs and shackles were removed, but she was left kneeling for all to see. Finally, she nodded her head firmly, stood and walked calmly to the post.

The ancient Roman colosseum remained silent as she looked at the rough wood she would soon be nailed to. Clearly, the party atmosphere had changed. After a few more moments, she calmly lay down on the ground with her head resting on the heavy wood plank. Two of the guards firmly held her arms out on the wood. On guard sat on her chest. The last picked up the spikes and hammer.

I looked over at Alice who had tears streaming down her cheeks. The body builder was just rising up for his first Crux Dance. Some of the other victims were crying too. Everyone’s attention was focused on the center of the colosseum as the first blow of the hammer struck.

It was hard to believe such a loud, deep howl of anguish and pain could come from such a small woman. The cry reverberated across the colosseum as the hammer kept falling. It only took two swings of the hammer to firmly nail the wrist to the wood. Two swings of the hammer later, and the guards began hoisting the heavy plank up the post to it’s final resting place. Another, deep howl of pain and anguish rumbled across the colosseum as the woman’s body violently snapped as the cross piece was dropped into place.

No one said a word as the guards pushed her knees up and apart as they nailed her delicate feet to the post. It took three blows of the hammer and the job was done. The woman moaned as her body began slightly shifting on the cross in a desperate, but futile attempt to receive the pain. The next loud moan became her last howl of pain as she pushed her body up the cross in her first dance.

The ten other victims were slowly rising and falling as they danced the afternoon away. The sun continued it’s arc across the sky as dusk fell across the colosseum. As it touched the horizon, the golden sun illuminated the colosseum and the eleven bodies hanging on their crosses. Even my pale skin appeared golden in the last light of the day.

Before darkness fell, I looked up and down at the other’s on their crosses. Because of the way the guards had tied our feet, blood was slowly oozing down each cross. Each dance on the cross became progressively more painful as the ropes dug into the soft flesh between all of our toes.

Soon, the guards reappeared and began building bonfires around the crosses. It was then that members of the audience were allowed to leave the stands to more closely examine the victims. They each silently waked up to the center cross. A few bowed their heads. More than a few reached up and touched her bloody feet. After a few moments, they would then file past the rest of the victims. Once the center cross was behind them, they would begin talking quietly among themselves.

Most clearly favored the body builder on the end as the one who would stay up the longest. Others liked one or more of the models. As they walked past my cross, they looked up and pointed at my still firmly erect penis. A few of them touched it. One older woman stroked it a few times.

From my spot, I looked at Alice every now and then. Blood had appeared between her toes from the rope. But she was still moving up and down, receiving pressure on her wrists, arms and chest. Looking down, I saw a few of the spectators had brought food and wine with them. After examining each of the bodies hanging in the colosseum, they would gather around the bonfires, eat, talk and occasionally laugh.

It was probably around midnight that the first body was cut down from it’s cross. The older, paunchy man lasted more than six hours, but that was it. As soon as he came down, three of the models called it quits too. Once off the cross, they were showered with food and drink. But none of the former victims were not allowed to get dressed. The old man lay down by a fire and went to sleep. The models immediately went to the center cross to show their respect. One lay down at the foot of the cross and refused food.

By the next morning, the body builder, the middle aged woman, Alice and I remained hanging in the colosseum. I had no illusions that I would win, but I was determined to remain on my cross until the woman on the center cross died. I felt it was my duty to her. The pain in my arms had become a dull throb. But pain stabbed through my feet every time I pressed my body upward. I caught a glimpse of Alice as she started another dance, her face was contorted in pain too.

Then, later that morning, the body builder surprised everyone and asked to cut down from his cross. That afternoon, the middle aged woman came down. As the sun set a second night, only Alice and I remained.

The woman on the center cross died that night. No one heard or saw anything. But when the sun came the third morning, her chest had stopped moving and her skin turned grey.

Around midday, the guards looked up at Alice and asked if she wanted to come down. She was barely able to shake her head no. Then they asked me if I wanted to come down. I shook my head no too. An hour or so later, Alice and I looked at each other. I mouthed one word …

“Together,” I said.

She looked at the dead woman on the center cross, then back at me. She slowly nodded her head. After a few moments of talking among themselves the guards agreed and we were cut down together.

We were both in bad shape and could only lay at the bottom of our crosses. Our bodies were bruised and dirty. Our fingers could barely hold the food that was offered to us. Our feet were a bloody mess. After an hour or so, Alice looked at me and nodded toward the center cross. I nodded back and we both slowly began pushing ourselves up off the ground.

Holding onto my cross, I took several deep breaths and staggered over to Alice. Arm in arm, we helped each other limp over to the center cross. The crowd parted as we made our way, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in the gravel. When we arrived at the center cross, we both placed our hands on the dead woman’s feet to honor her.

The old man had left the colosseum hours before, but the remaining nine filthy, bruised, nude victims all gathered at the base of the center cross. After a few more moments of showing respect, we all turned. Arm and arm, we left the colosseum together.

The first ever Crux Forum Suicide Circle was complete.
—————————————————————————————————————
Author’s note: Of course, I would never advocate suicide and always suggest safety. This is a purely fictional Crux story. But now it’s your turn. Is a million dollars enough for you to risk an awful death like this? Would you even sign up? How long would you last? If you were a spectator, how would you feel watching something like this?

good story in many ways. thanks

 

[Secret Keeper]

Well Done! The strory built suspense and was easy to read. Interesting from a man's point of view, too. That is good. You had a cross (pun intended) section of people who went to the fetish. The end satisfied, they left together, the narrator and the woman he admired. Two thumbs up. May I encourage you to more!

 

[Teo-Je]

At first this idea made me think... a million dollars... but then I remembered that in gambling I have the luck of a drowned man... and I decided that it was better for me to be a spectator)
I even used the online roulette of fate... and immediately got the number 11

 

[tygavin]

THE CRUX FORUM SUICIDE CIRCLE - PART 2
by Cycle

As I was dragged to my cross, the crowd was booing. Clearly they wanted to see the pale skinny guy nailed instead of tied. I was thrown to the ground at the base of my cross. Just as soon as the guards removed my handcuffs, I was dragged on to the heavy cross piece and felt my wrists being tightly tied to rough wood. Moments later, my entire body violently jerked down as the cross piece was dropped on the post. Pain shot through my arms and shoulders as my wrists bore my thin body’s weight. Moments later, I felt the leg shackles being removed and my feet were tightly tied to the post.

Almost immediately, I felt pressure building in my chest. It was already hard to breathe. My entire body was covered in sweat. Looking down, I was surprised to see how sexually stimulated I had become. As the guards walked back to collect their next victim, one of them slapped my penis and laughed. I looked up at the afternoon sun shining in my face and felt my pale skin begin to sizzle. Looking at each wrist, I began slowly pressing with my legs and felt my body rise a few inches.

As my body rose, I noticed two things. First, the crowd began cheering as I did my first Crux Dance. Looking out, I saw more than a few of them pointing at me and my large, rigid penis. It appeared that a few people were exchanging money. Clearly someone had lost a wager. As I stood on my cross, I also noticed the rope savagely digging into the soft flesh between my toes. The guards had tied my feet in a way that only the soft skin would take my body’s weight when I was standing.

As I stood, I saw the next victim had arrived at the computer table. It was one of the Crux Dreams models, one I thought I recognized. As the guard announced her name, I felt my blood run cold. It was my favorite model, Alice and her chances of being the unlucky member of the Circle were better than mine. Looking into the guard’s face as he tapped her name into the laptop, I saw fear building in her eyes. You could have heard pin drop as he announced the computer’s verdict.

A few minutes later, Alice was hoisted onto the post next to mine. The computer had spared her life. Even with the growing pain in my feet, I remained standing as I ran my eyes over her body. It had been more than a few years since Alice appeared in her video, but she remained in excellent shape.

After recovering from the shock of being dropped onto her post, Alice began looking around. A lot of people in the crowd were pointing at her, clearly happy she wasn’t the one who would loose their life. Her eyes ran across the crowd, then she looked at the seven other people hanging beside her. Then her eyes stopped on me. Clearly she wasn’t impressed with my pale, thin body. But she at least nodded in approval as she noticed I was still VERY sexually aroused.

I smiled at her, then looked toward the table as the next victim appeared. It was another one of the Crux Dreams models. She was just as dirty as the rest of us as she shuffled across the colosseum to hear his fate. The crowd noise disappeared as the guard tapped her name into the computer. She had a fifty-fifty chance of loosing her life.

The next sound everyone heard was her cry of fear and anguish as she learned the computer had selected her for death. The small woman struggled as the guards dragged her over to the post in the center of the colosseum She was forced to kneel in front of the audience as the last victim was brought out and quickly taken to the final post. The body builder had been spared death and was quickly tied to his cross.

The small woman kneeling in the center of the colosseum was shaking with fear. She quietly sobbed as the guards folded up the table and left. Two more guards appeared as all the video cameras focused on the small woman. Her handcuffs and shackles were removed, but she was left kneeling for all to see. Finally, she nodded her head firmly, stood and walked calmly to the post.

The ancient Roman colosseum remained silent as she looked at the rough wood she would soon be nailed to. Clearly, the party atmosphere had changed. After a few more moments, she calmly lay down on the ground with her head resting on the heavy wood plank. Two of the guards firmly held her arms out on the wood. On guard sat on her chest. The last picked up the spikes and hammer.

I looked over at Alice who had tears streaming down her cheeks. The body builder was just rising up for his first Crux Dance. Some of the other victims were crying too. Everyone’s attention was focused on the center of the colosseum as the first blow of the hammer struck.

It was hard to believe such a loud, deep howl of anguish and pain could come from such a small woman. The cry reverberated across the colosseum as the hammer kept falling. It only took two swings of the hammer to firmly nail the wrist to the wood. Two swings of the hammer later, and the guards began hoisting the heavy plank up the post to it’s final resting place. Another, deep howl of pain and anguish rumbled across the colosseum as the woman’s body violently snapped as the cross piece was dropped into place.

No one said a word as the guards pushed her knees up and apart as they nailed her delicate feet to the post. It took three blows of the hammer and the job was done. The woman moaned as her body began slightly shifting on the cross in a desperate, but futile attempt to receive the pain. The next loud moan became her last howl of pain as she pushed her body up the cross in her first dance.

The ten other victims were slowly rising and falling as they danced the afternoon away. The sun continued it’s arc across the sky as dusk fell across the colosseum. As it touched the horizon, the golden sun illuminated the colosseum and the eleven bodies hanging on their crosses. Even my pale skin appeared golden in the last light of the day.

Before darkness fell, I looked up and down at the other’s on their crosses. Because of the way the guards had tied our feet, blood was slowly oozing down each cross. Each dance on the cross became progressively more painful as the ropes dug into the soft flesh between all of our toes.

Soon, the guards reappeared and began building bonfires around the crosses. It was then that members of the audience were allowed to leave the stands to more closely examine the victims. They each silently waked up to the center cross. A few bowed their heads. More than a few reached up and touched her bloody feet. After a few moments, they would then file past the rest of the victims. Once the center cross was behind them, they would begin talking quietly among themselves.

Most clearly favored the body builder on the end as the one who would stay up the longest. Others liked one or more of the models. As they walked past my cross, they looked up and pointed at my still firmly erect penis. A few of them touched it. One older woman stroked it a few times.

From my spot, I looked at Alice every now and then. Blood had appeared between her toes from the rope. But she was still moving up and down, receiving pressure on her wrists, arms and chest. Looking down, I saw a few of the spectators had brought food and wine with them. After examining each of the bodies hanging in the colosseum, they would gather around the bonfires, eat, talk and occasionally laugh.

It was probably around midnight that the first body was cut down from it’s cross. The older, paunchy man lasted more than six hours, but that was it. As soon as he came down, three of the models called it quits too. Once off the cross, they were showered with food and drink. But none of the former victims were not allowed to get dressed. The old man lay down by a fire and went to sleep. The models immediately went to the center cross to show their respect. One lay down at the foot of the cross and refused food.

By the next morning, the body builder, the middle aged woman, Alice and I remained hanging in the colosseum. I had no illusions that I would win, but I was determined to remain on my cross until the woman on the center cross died. I felt it was my duty to her. The pain in my arms had become a dull throb. But pain stabbed through my feet every time I pressed my body upward. I caught a glimpse of Alice as she started another dance, her face was contorted in pain too.

Then, later that morning, the body builder surprised everyone and asked to cut down from his cross. That afternoon, the middle aged woman came down. As the sun set a second night, only Alice and I remained.

The woman on the center cross died that night. No one heard or saw anything. But when the sun came the third morning, her chest had stopped moving and her skin turned grey.

Around midday, the guards looked up at Alice and asked if she wanted to come down. She was barely able to shake her head no. Then they asked me if I wanted to come down. I shook my head no too. An hour or so later, Alice and I looked at each other. I mouthed one word …

“Together,” I said.

She looked at the dead woman on the center cross, then back at me. She slowly nodded her head. After a few moments of talking among themselves the guards agreed and we were cut down together.

We were both in bad shape and could only lay at the bottom of our crosses. Our bodies were bruised and dirty. Our fingers could barely hold the food that was offered to us. Our feet were a bloody mess. After an hour or so, Alice looked at me and nodded toward the center cross. I nodded back and we both slowly began pushing ourselves up off the ground.

Holding onto my cross, I took several deep breaths and staggered over to Alice. Arm in arm, we helped each other limp over to the center cross. The crowd parted as we made our way, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in the gravel. When we arrived at the center cross, we both placed our hands on the dead woman’s feet to honor her.

The old man had left the colosseum hours before, but the remaining nine filthy, bruised, nude victims all gathered at the base of the center cross. After a few more moments of showing respect, we all turned. Arm and arm, we left the colosseum together.

The first ever Crux Forum Suicide Circle was complete.
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Author’s note: Of course, I would never advocate suicide and always suggest safety. This is a purely fictional Crux story. But now it’s your turn. Is a million dollars enough for you to risk an awful death like this? Would you even sign up? How long would you last? If you were a spectator, how would you feel watching something like this?

Great story. Alice is my favorite too. I’m not sure how long I would last but I could outlast the bodybuilder. Crosses are about endurance and mentally dealing with pain over long distances. I’ve beaten guys with a hundred pounds more muscle usually around mile 15 they start to cramp. Large muscles are gained by quick explosive movements with heavy weights. Large muscle requires more oxygen and water. That’s why bodybuilders aren’t great at other sports. I would think dancing on the cross would go to us less muscular guys and gals.

 

[thecuriousone]

I love it. Actually I have been roleplaying on reddit something similar a while ago. Never got myself to make a story of it. Great story. Saved a copy of it.