The Federation of Rome

[lember]

I`m planning to write the 2773th anniversary of existence of the eternal empire of Rome, celebrated by the reenactment of the crucifixion of the 6000 prisoners of the Spartacus rebellion along Via Appia.

However the Roman Empire now a modern democratic federation, called also European Union, the constitution contains this celebration, when every province has to send it`s finest ladies to participate and being on the cross for the whole day.

Ladies are brought to the capital by bus. They participates on trainings that prepare them to the challanges of ceremony, moreover press conferences and interviews.

Event is very popular. There is an unofficial contest on youtube among vloggers. They pick a nation and book it. They make pictures on press events, they may ask questions. Finally they try to find as many as they can on the crosses from their chosen nation:French, German, Bulgarian, etc. Who finds the most, is the winner. They post the videos from the arrival of the girls to the findings on via Appia, where they also can talk to the girls, trying to make interviews.

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This is the story. I would appreciate participant writers who writes shorts or sequence of shorts from different point of views:

-a lady who is chosen and sent to the capital
-a vlogger who walks along the road on the festival and based on his photos made on press conferences and interviews tries to find the girls from his chosen nation, films her and maybe asks questions.
-Teachers of preparation training and medical staff on festival
-any else

shorts can be as long as you want, from a single feeling to a whole story of a participant of the event

The crosses are of wood, ropes are used to fix. There is a horizontal, quite big footrest, so they just have to stand still, without any possibility of movement. This is the only way they can do it for the whole day. We focus on the exposement, celebrating the beauty of the female body and soul.

I hope you will like this challange

 

[lember]

Do not worry about timeline, we will order it at last. Just mention if you write to the Book of selection, travel, preparation, crucifixion or cross, and which nation you pick up to make its characters (can be several, better is one). From time to time I write some new rules based on your novels to keep coherence, for example we will use modern country names instead of province names (History did not stop, just was different)

Here is a preludium

Book of selection, Slovenia, scroll 1

I was observing her since the voting was closed. Literally followed all her acts, expressions, where she was going, like an agent of the AISI, the Roman secret service.
OK, I did this since our studies had started. Since I was in love with her, without any hope. Almost five years passed like this, I followed her to Msc, just to sit somewhere behind her on lectures, staring at her face, hair, boobs, legs, ass, eyes. I known all her clothes, when she bought one or threw any piece to the garbage. I saw all her boyfriends came and went. I could be her classmate, almost her friend, even not a closer kind of. But I realized a few months ago that the graduation would separate us once and for all. It was in February, the opening of the last semester. Something was broken inside me and I decided to see her at least once, as she was, exposed to me. The election of the 6000 women to the roman anniversarz festival was started about the same time. Anybody could vote online, and any woman could be proposed from the territory of the Roman Federation. A Facebook, Instagram, Tik-tok or any other web2 profile was enough which was connected clearly to a real person, even with the help of the proposer. Proposing was anonimous, so I was safe, when I sent her facebook profile to the voting server. When I made my decision and finally threw her to the virtual arena, I started watching her, if she noticed anything. First time she did not. Only 6000 women were chosen from the 350 million who lived in the territory of the Federation, nobody paid much more attention to it than to the Carnival of Venice.
But my job was just started. All my nights were occupied by her promotion on every site I could use. I went over all the international and national sites related to the festival, later all the community sites that might be useful. The guys from the Chinese Confederation helped the most. In fact they had not known anything about this festival before I wrote about it on Chinese sites. But after they became addicted to the race, hundred thousands voted from Wuhan to Tokyo, and she was their favourite: The Slovenian university student.
When she entered the first hundred thousand, some geek who followed the voting warned her. By that time I had neglected my studies, I was sure I would repeat the last year, but it was worth to see her changing. I almost saw her thoughts, her worries, and I saw her very known body parts with the growing chance to see it again without these clothes.
So when the voting was closed, and the results were not published, I was observing her smallest acts just like an agent of the AISI, the roman secret service, to find out if she was among the 6000. I even cheated to get her lecture attendance file. She never admitted that she was chosen, but I had my cross-questions to her, I even arranged parties and other events for that week just to see if she would refuse them. I investigated all her cancellation, and I decided to buy a flight ticket to Rome

 

[lember]

comments, advices, reviews are appreciated of course even if you do not participate in writing

 

[lember]

I always forget, when I start a new story, but it is good to use different colors for the text and discussion




Book of selection, Slovenia, scroll 2


Couriers usually visited my workplace. Every day there was some chinese garbage ordered by the guys that arrived. The first desk was ours in the big office, the "secretariat".
-Good day, sir. Who you are looking for? -I asked.
-Maja Zupan, Please. -I heard my name.
-It`s me. -I said with surprise, thinking that somebody might write my name to a firm delivery. I was the chief secretarian, so that was the most likely.
-You are chosen to Anniversary Festival. -He said the name that was like a refibrillation.
-What? -I asked, as my mind tried to escape.
-You will be crucified in Rome on June 22, for a day. -He said. I just realized how loud is he.
-Stop shouting, please!-I begged irritably.
-Sorry, madame, this urban highway is at least 80 dB, I almost deaft on motorbike. Sign this, please! -Varuska, my colleague on secretariat watched us like a stone statue. I was wondering how many people was hearing us in the office. They were almost all men. It must have been someone among them who proposed me. Nobody else could be. I sketched my name and hoped that the courier would leave soon.
-And this one also for you about you have received the materials with all the information you need to know about schedule and things you have to bring. -He pushed another paper toward the pit of my stomach. I signed that too impatiently. There was no another paper fortunately. I crushed the folders to my belly and turned around. I did not know if people turned away from me immediately or I just imagined that. I sat down.
-I`m so sorry! -I heard Varuska. -It will be just a day far away from here. You will be get over it! -She tried to comfort me.
-Thank you. The best if we continue working. We must renew social insurances by the end of the week. -I said, but I lied. I couln`t keep working. She looked at me again and when she understood that I really wanted to be alone for a while, turned back. I went up to google immeniately. First I was looking for exemptions, anything that helped me to avoid crucifixion. The search bar immediately gave back the search expression of Rome Anniversary Festival Crucifixion exemption appeal when I started typing, that eased me for a second, but I shockingly realiyed I got back nothing, just results for the single words, without any connection. I was thinking hard to find aother expressions, than I slowly gave it up. I started to browse among interviews made after the festival.
"I felt myself as a piece of meat hanged up in the butchery"
"Around the end the desire of moving was stronger than anything, it was like thirst"
"I looked out at my hand. I saw it, I felt it, I could move my fingers, but I couldn`t believe that is was mine and not just an object put on the crossbeam by someone else. It was so far"
"My ribcages individually desired the touch of my upper arms. My nipples desired the feeling of my own palms."
"I looked out as far as I could, but I was not able to forget my tits hanging freely. Everybody looked at it, and I knew."
Sometimes I went back to my job, then I continued reading. The day ended, and I ran to home: The place where I could open videos too finally. There were much more findings. The one I picked was taken by a vlogger who just approached the road. I just saw motionless pink bodies. They did not look like real people. Then I saw a head being raised, another turned. Then the eyes that on the contrary, moved constantly. I saw living women. Lots of, in all the possible shapes and ages, mostly young ones of course. Most of them looked at the vlogger as he walked along the line, but did not turn away as if they were paralized. I checked all the details, tried to catch their feelings. Later I could catch the small movings caused by the camera, but it was hardly visible. Bounds were small and far at the end of the limbs, but must be very strict. I spent an hour just to observe the fingers: When and how to move, the smallest movements I could see. It was hard, because most of the videos focused on breasts, genitals, but there were plenty of all the body parts to the smallest details.
Seeing another vagina among the hundreds I heard a female voice from above that asked in English if the itching of back has faded of somebody. She got an answer from behind, but I did not understand. I realized that the crucifieds were talking above the head of the vlogger.
I was thinking. I wanted to prepare. I slowly went out to the balcony. I lived on the 4th floor. People walked on the streets. I grabbed my sweater and forced me to pull it up. My tits bounced out. I felt te breeze on my nipples. I made one step back, then I realized I would not be able to do it on the cross, and I stepped back to my original position. I stood there and squeezed the textil of the sweater at my neck. I had to feel it now, alone. My jeans even was on me. I had to bear it.
I heard a whistle from below. It wasn`t necessarily for me, but I didn`t want to know, I looked up, to the windows of the house in front of me. The thousands of windows. And this was the point I couldn`t take it anymore. I ran back to the flat and bundled my tits back to the bra quickly. I looked at the clock. I was out for three minutes.

 

[lember]

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