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The Dancing Dove of Judaea

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Livina’s heart sank even further, if that was possible... her body and her dreams were about to be forever destroyed. She braced herself for the first blow, wondering where it would land.

The Dancing Dove of Judaea
Part twenty one


It seemed like forever, waiting there for the first blow. The longer she waited the more fearful she became. She could hear something moving behind her but whichever way she turned her head she couldn’t catch a glimpse.

Waiting for the sound, waiting for the pain, waiting for the reaction of the onlookers, breathing rapidly, waiting, body tensed, waiting, eyes darting back an forth, waiting, waiting, waiting.... Finally, her muscles relaxed from fatigue.

CRACK! The flagrum’s first kiss struck her right shoulder without warning. Instantly, her body tensed up again as she winced in pain.

CRACK! Another blow to the same area but this time wrapping around her chest slightly. The pain was intense, far worse than she imagined in her fantasies. Each blow beginning as a sharp sting then quickly followed by searing pain that only intensified with time.

CRACK! CRACK! Two quick strikes to her left shoulder area evened up the damage to her back. Livina had tried to maintain her composure but she knew it would be hopeless to endure the pain. By the fourth strike she was openly sobbing, blood running down the deep welts in her back and hanging heavily from her wrists.

Through her weeping she could hear the wife’s voice: “Well done, lictor. Now that the whore is warmed up let’s make her dance like a dove!”

The onlookers laughed at the reference to Livina’s dancing persona but Livina paid little attention. She found the strength to bring her legs together and lower her head just enough to catch a glimpse of her beautiful blue skirt - almost as a farewell to an old and beloved friend.

CRACK! The flagrum struck her right backside where the gluteal muscle connects to the hamstring muscles, tearing both fabric and flesh. Livina howled in agony at the physical pain of her skin being ripped and at the emotional pain of her identity as a dancer being ripped before a bloodthirsty crowd.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

The lictor was ruthless in his assault on her legs and lower buttocks; shredding flesh, fabric and soul. Livina was, somehow, still standing: her strong dancer’s legs withstanding the brutal assault but weakening with each strike. She was screaming at the top of her lungs with each strike; a low guttural scream from the depths of her crushed spirit. Between strikes she tried to rest her head by leaning it against the post, openly weeping but never asking or begging for mercy as she knew none would be granted...

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Her skirt was destroyed in the back, as was her lower body. Her legs had given out now but her consciousness remained. The pain in her legs was so intense... white-hot and unrelenting. Somehow, through all the pain she found the strength to lift herself up again using mostly her arms, though the restraints on her wrists were an agony unto themselves. The lictor saw her rise... and smiled.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

5 deep lashes to the back ended her brief defiance and brought her down to hang solely by her wrists with head hanging down chin-to-chest. She was mostly moaning now... hovering somewhere between conscious and unconscious.

“Madam Prefect, I count 20 lashes as you requested. I believe she has reached the maximum of flagellation without limiting her time on the cross.”

The wife approached carrying a small bucket of water: “Very well, stand aside. Let’s bring her back, flip her over and let her enjoy the bull whip for another 10-15 strokes.” She poured the water over Livina’s head.

Livina gasped as if woken up from a dream: “Nooooooooo.....” she screamed as she revived to full consciousness
 
Sweet Lord… , the visceral brutality only enhances the beautiful erotica…

I have no words, it’s sad and it’s injust yet is a dream fulfilled and in death is her ultimate freedom. One of the most compelling scourging scenes I have read, and a very unique character. I think you’re a genius, @Blue
 
The wife approached carrying a small bucket of water: “Very well, stand aside. Let’s bring her back, flip her over and let her enjoy the bull whip for another 10-15 strokes.” She poured the water over Livina’s head.

Livina gasped as if woken up from a dream: “Nooooooooo.....” she screamed as she revived to full consciousness.


The Dancing Dove of Judaea
Part twenty two


Two centurions grabbed Livina on either side and held her up while a third centurion worked on her wrist shackles: removing them from the hook to allow the other centurions to turn her around, then reattaching the shackles. Once this task was completed her ankles were bound close together making her back flush against the the post, digging into the numerous welts in her back and legs. Finally, the tie in her hair was fastened behind the post, preventing her hair from covering her tits and her head from bending forward.

The remains of her skirt hung low on her hips: all fabric completely gone in the back but still offering some covering modesty in the front. Despite all she had endured thus far she still appeared to be incredibly beautiful and sexually stimulating to all the onlookers, many of whom did not fail to notice Livina’s nipples had become erect.

It was during the last flurry of strikes that Livina’s body became almost numb to the pain and began replacing it with an unusual sexual energy. Through the fog of her painful torture her mind began replacing pain with pleasure: her budding nipples showing evidence to this happening.

The lead centurion gave a quick check to all her restraints: “She’s ready” He said, giving one of her tits a quick squeeze as he stepped aside. Livina moaned, softly.

Though in a heightened state of sexual arousal Livina was most certainly not ready for more abuse... Stretched out completely on the post, nearly immobile, made her feel frightened and vulnerable. She was completely submissive to anything the wife wanted to do to her: little did she know how these feelings would be amplified exponentially on the cross.

The remains of her skirt, though mostly in tatters, still continued to serve as a melancholy reminder of her of life as a dancer and was almost as painful as the whipping had been so far. Livina the slave did not fear death and saw it as a way to attain freedom from her slavery. However, the Dancing Dove of Judaea wanted very much to live and find freedom in her movement, freedom in her expression and freedom in her ability to exert some power over men.

The wife instructed the lictor: “start with her tits then cut up the skirt, I want nothing left of it except around her waist. Oh, and remember: the belt is to be preserved.” The wife gave the signal to proceed.

This time she saw them coming, each and every lash. After the flagrum this bullwhip seemed less intense, or so she thought... the first strike struck her right tit and caught the nipple too. Livina quickly realized the kiss of the bull was more localized than the flagrum, making the pain equally, if not more, intense. She howled like a wounded animal with each stroke, guttural, fierce sails of utter hopelessness.

After crisscrossing her tits and belly a few times the lictor focused his attention on her skirt. Right, left, right, then right again, followed by a final left strike, leaving her legs bloodied, her skirt destroyed and her spirit broken. The weeping, piteous person strapped to the whipping post bore little resemblance to the proud dancer that had bravely walked up to it a brief time ago.

The Prefect’s wife smiled, knowing that her suffering had only just begun.
 
The wife stepped right next to Livina, staring at her with her brilliant green eyes... Just as in the cell she lifted a hand to Livina’s face, stroking it gently before moving to the back of her head to untie Livina’s veil. The soft fabric fell off Livina’s face, onto her shoulders then brushed her left breast before landing at Livina’s feet.

The wife’s hands returned to Livina’s face, then up to her forehead, then ran her fingers several times through Livina’s dark brown hair. “Normally we would cut this to further your humiliation but I’m imagining how wonderful you will look hanging from your cross with your face down and head moving from side to side: you might even be able to massage your nipples with your hair! Can’t miss a moment like that.....no? Centurion- give me that length of leather I asked you to keep a while ago.”

The wife used the leather to tie up Livina’s hair and keep it away from the lash. She ran her hand up and down Livina’s now completely exposed back several times saying “Beautiful, so, so beautiful....enjoy your last caress before we begin your execution.”

Oh how I am turned on right now!

Blue, this is a magnificent erotic moment, and just the sort of thing I have fantasized many times. Being teased, flirted with, taunted, and humiliated as I await my public flogging. And then the delicious wait as my hair is bound up to completely bare my back for the whip. Followed by a tantalizing finger running down my flesh, causing my juices to flow wildly as I await the onslaught of pan.
 
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Sweet Lord… , the visceral brutality only enhances the beautiful erotica…

I have no words, it’s sad and it’s injust yet is a dream fulfilled and in death is her ultimate freedom. One of the most compelling scourging scenes I have read, and a very unique character. I think you’re a genius, @Blue
Thanks so much! @Loinclothslave
Still writing... she’s taking a long time to reach her destiny.
 
The weeping, piteous person strapped to the whipping post bore little resemblance to the proud dancer that had bravely walked up to it a brief time ago.

The Prefect’s wife smiled, knowing that her suffering had only just begun.


The Dancing Dove of Judaea
Part twenty three


“Let her down and recover for a short time” ordered the wife adding “make sure she drinks so she regains some strength: she has more dancing to do for us!”

Unshackled, Livina fell to the ground in a quasi-fetal position, dust and dirt mixing freely with the bleeding welts all over her body. One of the centurions lifted her up to a sitting position while another gave her a cupful of water, which she greedily drank.

Suddenly, she was lifted again by the two centurions, one grabbing under her arms and the other by her ankles, and carried to the entrance of the courtyard, just out of view of the onlookers and those former members of the sheikh’s compound. She lay there for a short while until rudely doused with two buckets of water all over her body. The water stung like crazy, ripping her from her dazed stupor into a fully conscious mind, gasping for breath from the cold shower: a third bucket followed, just to be sure she was awake and clean up any residual blood.

“Break time over, now you march” ordered one of the centurions while pointing at a wooden beam next to Livina; the patibulum for her cross. Livina studied the beam with desperate eyes. It was just a piece of wood with no discernible markings but what it represented was horrifying. As she studied the crossbeam another centurion came up behind her and said: “two gifts from the people of Rome - four spikes and a titulus, special for your crucifixion.”

Livina shuddered at the the sight of the spikes: long tapered metal shafts with a squared head. The thought of them piercing her wrists and feet paralyzed her with fear...she began sobbing “no...no...no...no....” The spikes were bound together tightly with a leather strip, which was, in turn, looped through a larger piece of leather forming a macabre necklace which the centurion placed around Livina’s neck. “Oh gods, no... please.. no.... please... no...” her sobbing continued as the thick spikes pressed hard against her breasts. To think, it was only last night in her cell she fantasized about being crucified... the reality was much, much different.

“What’s wrong, dear?” The wife asked. “Don’t want to be crucified today...hmmm?” The wife chuckled at her own sarcasm. “Stand her up: let’s clean her up a bit so she looks beautiful carrying her beam and nails to her stipes. Have you seen your titulus yet? Here, let me show you - it’s pretty basic: ‘Dancing Dove - Murdering Whore’ because that’s what you are...” Livina gasped at what was to be her legacy, now hanging ingloriously from her neck in addition to her spikes.

A fourth bucket of water was used to clean her up for her death march. Rather than simply throw the water at her it was held above her neck, lightly dousing her in an ersatz shower. Livina could feel someone patting her with a towel, as if she was being pampered: but there was nothing pampering in the way the water made the welts on her body sting like mad. She wanted to resist but her hands had been tied behind her back before this bath began.

Now somewhat clean, the Prefect’s wife approached her: “Did you enjoy your bath? You do look so much better... can’t get the crowd to lust for the deathly struggle of an dirty used-up whore: clean used-up whores are sooo much more attractive! Let me take care of one last detail.” With that the wife reached behind Livina’s head and undid the rope holding her hair. Released from its binding, her hair fell gracefully past her shoulders and down her back. The wife took a few minutes to smooth out the tangles using her fingers as if they were a comb. Livina just stood there, breathing a bit more rapidly than normal in anticipation of what was to come any moment.

“Beautiful...” The Prefect’s wife said, nearly sighing. She addressed the centurions: “Get that beam tied to her shoulders at once and put a leash on her just in case she wants to dance on the earth one last time a bit more vigorously than we want. I will lead the procession.”

“Gods....” Livina said in a hushed voice. She felt her hands released then her arms forcibly stretched out to accept the beam. “nooooo....” she said in a pitiful low cry, trying to comprehend the incomprehensible. She knew she was condemned to death, she knew her crucifixion would be horrible, she knew all these things would happen in the future- now, the future had arrived
 
She knew she was condemned to death, she knew her crucifixion would be horrible, she knew all these things would happen in the future- now, the future had arrived.

The Dancing Dove of Judaea
Part twenty four


“Let’s go.” That’s how it began, a single command uttered by a nameless centurion in the Roman Legions. She heard the whip crack behind her as a warning and began to move. The beam was heavy and awkwardly attached to her shoulders. In order to keep her balance she had to adopt a wide stance and move very carefully, almost in a sided-to-side crab walk. Her linked-coin belt rattled with every step: a sorrowful soundtrack to her death march.

Onward she continued and with each step was gradually accepting her fate, bringing tears to her eyes, her quiet crying a window into the mounting terror she felt as she drew nearer to her final destination.

Livina looked down at her feet: the dainty-yet-powerful feet of a belly dancer. Feet that are accustomed to long, languid and graceful movements. Feet that supported the beautiful gyrations and undulations of her hips and belly. Feet that as recently as a day earlier had carried her across many floors in front of many princes, sheikhs and Roman nobility. Feet that now struggle to shuffle under the weight of the heavy patibulum. Feet that, step by step, bring her closer to her execution by crucifixion. Feet that barely support the sobbing, tearful and frightened woman on her way to an agonizing death, whip cracking in the background and across her ass if she doesn’t maintain a decent pace. Feet that will be pierced by large nails and forever made one with the rough wood of the cross.

The stipes lay on the ground roughly ten paces to the left of the whipping post. The Prefect’s wife was there waiting, along with what Livina imagined to be the carnifax and his detail. The march took, maybe, ten minutes but to Livina it took much longer. Memories flashed before her eyes of the multiple people she had seen make this same walk, carrying this same burden, facing this same fate, feeling these same feelings. She wished she had shown some kindness to the condemned, as she now wished someone would show her but that was not in the script...

“Not very graceful now- eh?” “Let’s se you dance with that beam!” “Save your energy for when you’re crucified, you’ll need it to breath!” Insults and taunts came fast and furious, stinging Livina far more than she imagined when playing out a fantasy of this march in the past.

She was led to about 4 paces from the stipes when she heard a centurion yell “STOP.” The procession halted: Livina had a close up view of her wooden death bed for the first time.

“Oh gods... oh gods....” she was trembling now quite uncontrollably. The centurions flanked her on either side, untied the beam from her shoulders and gave it to the crucifixion detail. She had a brief moment to rub her arms before the centurions bound them behind her back again.

Livina sank to her knees as her method of execution was being assembled, still with the spikes and titulus dangling from her neck. She watched in horror as the crucifixion detail went about its business of securing the patibulum to the stipes then positioning the cross just behind a hole in the ground. Livina stared at the, cross, her cross, her place of execution and openly wept shaking her head from side to side and muttering “no....no...no....” over and over, as if in some sort of trance.

The carnifax approached her, carrying a large hammer. “I’ll take these missy” he said removing the spikes and titulus from her neck. He looked at his crew: “Ready?” They all nodded affirmative. He looked at the Prefect’s wife and calmly said: “We are ready to crucify the condemned prisoner, Madam Prefect.”

The Prefect’s wife quietly intoned “You may proceed.”
 
The carnifax approached her, carrying a large hammer. “I’ll take these missy” he said removing the spikes and titulus from her neck. He looked at his crew: “Ready?” They all nodded affirmative. He looked at the Prefect’s wife and calmly said: “We are ready to crucify the condemned prisoner, Madam Prefect.”

The Prefect’s wife quietly intoned “You may proceed.”


The Dancing Dove of Judaea
Part twenty five


Instantly the carnifax’s detail descended on Livina with blinding speed, breaking Livina’s trance and eliciting a scream of “NOOOOOOO......!!!!!!” from her. They dragged her to the cross and forced her back down onto the flat surface of the stipes. The largest member of the detail sat on Livina’s torso and put his hands on her shoulders. Though she writhed beneath him in her final struggle to avoid the inevitable she was no match for this massive man. Two other members of the detail grasped an arm each and positioned her wrists on the patibulum, one hand locking fingers with Livina and the other hand firmly holding her forearm in place. The carnifax approached her from the right side, carrying only one nail and a hammer. Livina’s legs thrashed about in a desperate, yet futile, struggle for freedom.

The carnifax knelt down and probed Livina’s wrist for the proper spot to drive home the spike, completely ignoring, and unfazed by, Livina’s desperate pleas for mercy. He raised his hammer high and struck without hesitation, driving the spike clean through her wrist and partially into the wood beneath.

Livina’s scream was ear-shattering. From the very depths of her soul all of her years of sorrow and trauma seemed to be released in the unimaginable agony of the spike piercing her wrist. Far, far removed from her fantasy now, the pain enveloped her with each successive tap of the hammer until her wrist was firmly secured to the wood. She stared at her grievously wounded wrist in utter disbelief, desperately trying to wiggle her fingers out of the grotesque claw they now formed but to no avail.

The carnifax scooted over to her left wrist to repeat the process: Livina followed him with her head and eyes. She tried with all the strength she could muster to free herself from the vise-like grip of the detail but it was useless... She felt the carnifax probing her left wrist and had just enough time to beg for mercy one last time “PLEASE NO, NOT ANOTHER... I BEEEEEEEEEEG-AYYYYYYYYYYYYY......” The hammer fell on her left wrist with merciless precision, just as it did to the right.

Livina’s scream was even more anguished and ear-shattering than before. It was the scream of a wounded animal just beginning an extended torturous journey whose only release was death. It was the scream of a person realizing an irreversible threshold had been crossed and that the way forward would only bring even more agony and suffering.

Now that she was firmly secured to the cross the carnifax and his detail stepped back to allow Livina time to “enjoy” the fruits of their labor. Alternating sobs and screams, her head reared back and her body arched high with heels burrowing into the ground. Her linked-coin belt rattled as her hips trembled side-to-side in horrific pain; she was a sight to behold!

“Look! She dances for us again!” said one onlooker. “She’s doing this for us now with only two nails in? I can’t wait to see her squirm with all four nails, and raised!” said another. “Her nipples are hard... I think she rather likes the pain and all the attention she is getting!” The crowd burst into laughter at that ...

Over the course of just a few minutes Livina realized that her pain was made worse by all of the jostling around she was doing. Despite her body shivering in pain she did her best to still herself and find some modicum of relief from the pain in her wrists. Slowly, she settled down into a weeping sob, her body motionless, still, save for her heaving breasts. That was the cue the carnifax had been waiting for.
 
As the nails pin my soft sweet wrists to the cross:

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH NOOOOOO PLEASE PLEASE

A passing saucy smug lady:

The Dancing Dove of Judaea? Looks like you're the Crucified Cow of Golgotha now, you treacherous blasphemous slut! That Roman cock you loved to ride sure didn't help you did it Livinia!

Me, sobbing in utter humiliation and agony:

Waaaahhhhhh

From self righteous religious folk, to patriotic Jewish Sicarii and Zealots, to eager teenagers and randy older people, to smug haughty Jewish matrons: *everyone* has a snide remark, a burst of laughter, a clever insult to heap on my sun baked head!

✝️
 
Over the course of just a few minutes Livina realized that her pain was made worse by all of the jostling around she was doing. Despite her body shivering in pain she did her best to still herself and find some modicum of relief from the pain in her wrists. Slowly she settled down into a weeping sob, her body motionless, still, save for her heaving breasts. That was the cue the carnifax had been waiting for.

The Dancing Dove of Judaea
Part twenty six


With uncanny speed the crucifixion detail descended on Livina a second time. The largest member of the detail again straddled her torso, but this time facing her feet and wrapping his arms just behind her knees; holding them together completely immobilized at a rough forty-five degree angle. The two other members of the detail each grabbed an ankle and held it in place on top of the stipes.

“Madam Prefect: I know you specified feet apart for this one but I’m seeing some cracking in the wood on the right. May I have your permission to do her foot-on-foot with one spike? I think it will hold better and I do have an extra long spike in my satchel over there.” The carnifax was so droll in his commentary while Livina hung on every word, terrified at the thought of how long it would take to drive one spike through both of her feet...

“Do as you see best.” was the wife’s reply, sending the carnifax to his satchel and returning, spike in hand, in less than thirty seconds. The spike was massive compared to the others: nearly twice as long but with a wider taper at the head. “Let me have that a moment” said the wife, grabbing the spike from the carnifax’s hand.

Kneeling down at the head of the cross, the wife presented the ominous spike to Livina. “Look at your new lover, you whore” she caressed Livina’s check with the tip of the spike, tracing circles around her mouth and down her chest. “This is the spike that will fix your dainty feet to the wood, never to move again, never to dance again...” The cruelty in the wife’s eyes and expression shook Livina to her core: eyes bulging in panic, breath rapid, wrists on fire with pain; Livina was close to passing out.

The carnifax spoke: “Madam Prefect, time is of the essence as my men tire from holding down so strong a prisoner. Please allow us to do our jobs.” The wife smiled at the carnifax: “My apologies, please: I look forward to seeing her crucified as soon as possible.” She handed him the spike.

The carnifax quickly tied Livina’s ankles together and extended her legs just a bit more. Foot-on-foot wasn’t the preferred method of attaching feet to the stipes as the spike rarely entered the underneath foot in the proper spot but it was the best choice in this case. He found the ‘sweet spot’ on the right (top) foot and instructed his detail to get ready. This was going to be a difficult nailing as he had to swing with somewhat less force to partially penetrate the top foot, then line it up over the bottom foot as close as possible, then swing with extra force to break through the top foot and penetrate the bottom foot, then swing again hard to fully penetrate the bottom foot and engage the wood beneath; all with the condemned screaming and writhing terribly.

It was time. Livina begged and pleaded for mercy: the carnifax didn’t hear her. His aim was true and the spike went halfway through Livina’s right foot. Her scream was frightful: a guttural sound that shook everyone’s senses, almost like that of a man... drawn out, extended.... her head shook back and forth, eyes bulging, screaming mindlessly...

Two more blows to the hammer fully pierced the top foot, then four blows of the hammer full pierced the bottom foot and engaged enough of the wood beneath to secure Livina to her cross. Twisting, turning, the pain was beyond belief, beyond comprehension, beyond what any person should have to endure yet there she was nailed to her cross, enduring the un-endurable. It took three more blows of the hammer to fully drive the spike home: the Dancing Dove of Judaea was, now and forever, nailed to her cross.
 
It took three more blows of the hammer to fully drive the spike home: the Dancing Dove of Judaea was, now and forever, nailed to her cross.

The Dancing Dove of Judaea
Part twenty seven


The crucifixion detail retreated for a moment, mostly to recover from the arduous nailing but also to let the condemned feel the agony of the nails, fearing (perhaps knowing) the agony of the raising to come would be much, much worse. For a few minutes the intensity of the crucifixion paused for all to regain their focus, including the condemned.

Livina was in so much pain. She looked at the two bloodied claws that were once her her hands. So delicate they were, so graceful... now frozen and unable to move at all, pinned to the wood and burning with pain. She looked down at her ruined feet. Never again would they glide across the floor, spinning, leaping, providing solid support for all the other motions of her body. True, in a short time they will once again support her body but in unbearable agony and far from solid. She softly wept, lying there on her cross, waiting for the inevitable, completely vulnerable, completely dehumanized, a wretched creature in endless suffering.

The carnifax nodded to the Prefect’s wife, she nodded in return. “Let’s go fellas, time to crucify this one and be on our way.” He picked up the titulus and made his way to the top of her cross. He showed Livina the titulus saying in a mocking tone “Here’s your legacy for all to see, did we spell everything correctly?” Everyone laughed, except Livina.

“NOOOO... NOOOO....!” Livina screamed at the sight of her titulus and sobbed “why....why...why....” as the carnifax attached it to her cross, just above her head. He motioned two men of his detail to get into position on either side of the patibulum while the third member knelt down at the foot of the stipes, his job was to guide the cross into the hole.

The carnifax addressed his detail: “OK, on three we lift. Ready? One...Two...Three” Grunting, the three men lifted Livina on her cross, pausing as they got to shoulder height to change their grip. The cross began sliding towards the hole.

“NNNNNOOOOOOOOO......!!!!!!!!” Livina screamed in total panic and despair at the final act of her execution. Within moments she would be completely crucified, hanging by three spikes to a wooden cross of death with nothing to do but wait for death, suffer, and endure...., wait for death, suffer, and endure...., wait for death, suffer, and endure.....

The kneeling crucifixion detail member shouted to the carnifax: “We’re at the edge of the hole!” The carnifax replied “ok, stand her up straight. Good... let me kick the base aaaaannnnddddd - down she goes!” The cross fell about 12 inches before slamming to a halt, leaning slightly forward but secure in its base.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY...........!!!!!!!!!!!!” Livina’s scream was the loudest and longest yet as her cross bottomed out. Her wailing resonated from the depths of her abdomen, through her chest and out of her gaping mouth. The pain was...horrific. Three iron spikes into four wounds on the body, nerves nearly aglow with extreme pain messages to the brain, foot bones shattered, also sending agonizing messages over the same neural pathways causing her muscles to twitch uncontrollably.

As the crucifixion detail finished its final task of wedging the cross into its final position Livina’s body began convulsing violently, uncontrollably pulling on her wounded wrists and feet causing even more horrific pain. Arms and legs twitching relentlessly, stomach muscles locked in a tight spasm, mouth gaping open yet not emitting any sound. Livina was in so much pain, such utter agony, that she blacked out... her linked-coin belt rattling as she slipped down to hang solely from her wrists, breathing slowly and steadily with her head resting chin-on-chest.

“Carnifax, is she dead?” The wife was concerned Livina died before her final punishment was administered. “I don’t think so” he replied. “I’ve seen this before where the pain of the final drop is so great it overwhelms the nerves and they pass out. She seems to be breathing, and fairly regularly at that, so she should come around soon” he replied. “A bucket of water to the face should get her out of it, I would think.”

“Centurion: go get me a bucket of water- NOW!” the wife commanded. While the centurion fulfilled his task the wife admired her prey. Even crucified Livina’s beauty radiated like the brightest star in the night sky, mesmerizing, tantalizing, crying out for attention and to be used for someone’s pleasure. Her vulnerability on the cross made for a breathtaking picture: arms spread wide, legs splayed outward allowing her skimpy linked-coin belt to glisten in the mid-morning sun, taught stomach muscles slowly breathing in and out and hair dangling from her sunken head providing sporadic cover for her breasts. She was at the mercy of her executioner as never before.

The centurion returned with the bucket and the wife herself wasted no time in dousing Livina with it. Livina woke up with a startled gasp, eyes bulging out of their sockets as she returned to reality. Whatever placid place she had imagined during her unconsciousness was now gone and the reality of her crucifixion began anew with frightening intensity.
 
The centurion returned with the bucket and the wife herself wasted no time in dousing Livina with it. Livina woke up with a startled gasp, eyes bulging out of their sockets as she returned to reality. Whatever placid place she had imagined during her unconsciousness was now gone and the reality of her crucifixion began anew with frightening intensity.

The Dancing Dove of Judaea
Part twenty eight


The shock of the water brought the intense pain back to Livina like a lightning bolt. As if an instinctive move, and in spite of the dramatic increase in pain, her legs shot up jutting her hips forward and her head shot back; her body now fully extended like a billowing sail. Her wailing was high pitched and incessant as her body held that position for some moments, trembling in agony and thereby adding her rattling belt to the cacophony.

“The Dove Dances!” exclaimed the Prefect’s wife to the crowd of onlookers. “And she sings too, though I am having some trouble recognizing the tune... perhaps another verse, dearest Dove?” Rapturous laughter broke out amongst all the onlookers at the wife’s witty remarks. Livina continued her anguished cries.

The process continued for some time: Livina summoning up the strength to fully extend herself then slowly giving in to the pain, lowering herself to endure the agony of hanging solely by the wrists. Gradually, the intervals of lifting up became shorter and shorter and the intervals of rest became longer and longer. In the moments she lifted herself she screamed in pain: in the moments she hung by her wrists she openly wept.

The carnifax instinctively began to reach for the skimpy linked-coin belt Livina still wore: “Time for you to pay for my expertise in your crucifixion, missy. I’m sure this belt will fetch me something on the open market and you certainly don’t need it anymore!”

“Stop! You do not remove that belt!!!!” The Prefect’s wife shouted sternly at the carnifax and his detail. “That belt stays on her to the end, she dies wearing that as a reminder of her slut-whore waste of a life: the Dancing Cunt that killed my husband.”

“Madam Prefect” replied the carnifax, “it is customary to tip the detail for a job well-done, is it not? Have we not completed the crucifixion to your satisfaction?”

She looked at Livina and she looked at the carnifax: “my centurion is prepared to give each of you one silver coin, or the tip of his sword, should the coin not prove sufficient.” The detail agreed and left the scene, cursing the Romans and their famous reputation for avarice.

Livina paid little attention to the discussion of her belt, it did not seem to matter much now. What did matter was the constant, unrelenting pain that wracked her entire body. No matter how she positioned herself there was no escape from the pain. She felt like she had been hanging there for several hours when in fact it was only thirty minutes.

“Fuck!” The wife said stomping the ground in anger.

“A problem, Madam Prefect?” asked the lead centurion.

“I relieved the carnifax and his crew before they installed the cornu I chose... Fuck, fuck, fuck! She won’t last but a few hours without it and I want her punishment to go on much, much longer than that..” She was quite mad at herself.

“Madam Prefect, I believe several of our number have had limited experience on crucifixion details previously. Shall I ask around to see if any of them can assist?” The wife nodded yes and off went the centurion, but not before assigning three other of his company to guard the wife.

The Prefect’s wife strode over to Livina and stood directly in front of her, once again admiring the beauty and vulnerability of the woman pinned to the cross. The guards dispersed the onlookers somewhat, mostly to give some space to the wife. She noticed how Livina struggled to find some position of relief for at least one part of her body: she also noticed Livina’s nipples were somewhat hard, and getting harder!

A thought crossed her mind, a wicked, devious and humiliating thought that would be the perfect way to pass the time until the centurion came back with the cornu.
 
A thought crossed her mind, a wicked, devious and humiliating thought that would be the perfect way to pass the time until the centurion came back with the cornu.

The Dancing Dove of Judaea
Part twenty nine


The wife stood one step away from Livina, directly in front. Their eyes met. Though horribly tortured and abused Livina still had some life in her eyes and had not been completely broken- yet. The wife set out to do just that.

“Thirsty?” she asked Livina. “Guards, where is the water bucket and sponge for this one?” Immediately they produced the requested items. She dipped the sponge in the bucket and brought it to her own lips “Is this clean?” she asked, about to taste it herself.

“Wait, errr... no... errr...yes...but it’s not very fresh... let me fetch you another!” replied a young centurion. Off he went yelling obscenities at whoever just handed him the bucket. The wife and onlookers all laughed at the ineptitude of the young soldier; even Livina found it mildly amusing. He returned very quickly, set the bucket and sponge down at the wife’s feet and took a sip himself “much more fresh, Madam Prefect.”

She took the speared sponge and gave it a good soak, it dripped like rain when lifted out of the bucket so she took some care to let it drain back in so as to conserve the precious fluid. She brought it up to Livina’s lips and said: “Drink this, take advantage of the mercy of Rome while you can.”

Livina knew there was no mercy in this act whose sole purpose was to keep her alive and prolong her punishment. However, she also knew that she was incredibly thirsty and her instincts again won out, drinking greedily from the sponge. As soon as she dried up that spongefull the wife dipped it and offered it to her again: Livina drank all that as well.

“My, my, look how you drink! Not ready to die just yet, it would seem, hmmm? I’m not ready to see you die just yet either. In fact, I’m more interested in bringing some life back into you after your unfortunate ordeal a while back.” She dipped the sponge again, but this time not so fully. She brought the sponge up to Livina’s face but instead of offering it to her mouth she began carefully wiping the sweat from Livina’s forehead and cheeks, taking care to rinse the sponge every few strokes so as to truly clean her face. Even through the intense pain it felt good to Livina to have her face cleaned like this: to feel human for a moment.

“So, so beautiful you are... I bet every man in your presence yearned to have you as his companion one way or another...” She took her free hand and traced Livina’s hairline on the right from her forehead down to her shoulder, taking the mass of Livina’s hair that hung in front and moved it behind her back. “So, so beautiful you are...” she repeated the process on the left. Livina’s beautiful tits and hard nipples, even after they had been whipped, were now on full display.

With that last move of exposing her chest Livina thought she had figured out the wife’s motive for cleaning her: she braced herself for the wife’s unwanted touch on her breasts. What happened next surprised her.

“It was a shame we had to whip your breasts, did it hurt that much? I know there are those that rather enjoy that sort of thing, are you one of them?” This was a real question, not a taunt, judging by the wife’s tone. While she spoke she continued whetting the sponge and attended to Livina’s body. Her neck and arms received some nice attention from the sponge as did her upper chest area. As drips of water traveled down Livina’s front they made the welts sting at first, then subside into a rather soothing glow.

Livina’s pain and suffering from her crucifixion continued unabated but this show of humanity made a dent in her despair, making the process of her lengthy execution a bit more bearable... on several occasions the wife even paused her cleaning to allow for Livina’s struggle to rise up and breath, ordering a second clean bucket of water so she could offer Livina something to drink.

As the wife washed her belly Livina noticed a slight change in the wife’s demeanor. A glazed look in her eyes and a wicked smile on her face were all the signs Livina needed to see to know that something was about to change....
 
Livina saw the dance but did not hear a word the sheikh said as she brought herself over the top and had an intense orgasm. For a few moments she leaned on the sheikh for support, so weak she was in the knees. But gradually another force built up inside her, slowly at first and barely perceptible but gradually overwhelming her senses. She had to dance: right now!

The Dancing Dove of Judaea
Part six


Lifting both arms above her head she began to slowly sway her hips round and round: the soft chilton gliding smoothly against her skin. She began to move away from the sheikh and approach the crosses. Increasing the speed of her hips and lowering her arms a bit to make them seem to float in midair. She twirled and wiggled her way between the two crosses and was now completely lost in her dance: belly undulating, hips swaying, head thrown back and legs churning fueling her spins, leaps and bucking hips. She lifted her chilton above her waist, then over her head; throwing it off and landing at the foot of the daughter’s cross.

Her dance was frenzied now and it was all the guards could to to keep the crowd at bay. She danced with a fire and passion she never knew she had and was completely lost in the moment. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she faced the sheikh, bent backwards to the ground and then snapped forward landing on her knees with legs spread. She was exactly between the crucified women.

The sheikh laughed out loud at the sight with his arms folded “Come to me my dancing dove, we can leave these two to suffer their punishment while we enjoy our pleasure.”

As Livina rose to gather her chilton she noticed a faint smile face of the crucified young woman and also the scent of sex in the air: the daughter had cum watching Livina’s performance! Cum! On the cross! In the greatest pain one could imagine and enduring the most hideous way of dying! She looked again at the face of the young woman and their eyes met. After what seemed like an eternity the young woman softly spoke: “go, go to your master and serve him well. My mother... my mother and I shall be free from him in good time...”

Livina said nothing in return and hurried back to the sheik’s waiting arms.
This story is great Blue! Fantastic writing thank you!
 
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