Blue
Magistrate
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
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