I lay on my back, nailed with my wrists to the patibulum. As this part is done, the executioner gets herself another sip of posca.
"Lift that man up", that woman executioner says.
Immediately three of the guards put me on my feet. I have no choice, they simply lift up the patibulum, with me, by my wrists nailed to it. I must follow, if I don’t want to suffer unbearable pain by the nails. My stomach turns, my head gets dizzy. Sweat is running all over my face and body. I work to stay right up, standing very shaky on my feet. The weight of that patibulum in my neck does not help either to remain stable. Fortunately, the patibulum and my arms are supported by the guards.
I get some posca. It helps me a little bit. Enough to make me realize that these are the very last steps I will ever walk. It even surprises me that I still can walk in my situation. And how submissive I am behaving, walking so obediently (for a moment, I consider making a swing with my upper body, smashing that patibulum against these savage dumbhead rapist guard’s dumb heads, as a little payback for everything). But it is a bad idea, and the patibulum feels heavy and I am afraid I am too weak to carry out that little vicious plan.
The men guide me to the stipes and move me with my back to it. Hectorius has put up a ladder from the rear to the upright, stepping onto the first rung, while one of the guards is bending over to assist me with my feet.
"Lift him up and unite the crossbeam with the upright".
While Hectorius supports my head, the patibulum (with its human load) is lifted up and attached to the stipes. It immediately causes another situation, as, with my feet lifted from the ground (forever!), I am hanging with my body weight to the nails. It stretches me out, opening some of the whip marks. It is just a few inches above the ground. But it makes a lot of difference. Then, my feet are put on the footrest by a guard.
"Very good Loxuru! He says. “Exactly, bring your heels all the way back to the Stipes and don't worry that your feet are actually a few inches longer then the footrest. Very nice, hold yourself like that. Once Dena has fixed your feet you can then get additional support, by stepping with the forefeet onto the step. The nails will hold everything in place. You can choose if you want to push up with the heels, or if you want to step onto the metal. It will work out fine for you and for us. Doesn't that sound like fun?"
(‘Fun”!? ‘Idiot!’, I think). But actually, I have little choice, as, instinctively, I search for hold with my heels, placing my feet side by side on the footrest, straightening my legs to release the painful strain on my nailed wrists.
Once my feet have found rest, I look around. Checking the executioner out, checking Messaline out, glancing over to Lucia, who is still sitting on the ground next to her Patibulum and her Stipes, that is already secured in the ground. I wait what comes next.
Lucia has regained energy and protests again, stating that Messaline and me deserve our punishment as rebels, but that she has done nothing wrong, and that she is treated with too much humiliation. But all she causes is laughter, mostly among the slaves from her own household.
Their reaction drives Lucia back in defense. She sits down again, head down, covering her nipples poorly with her fingertips. Dena founds it amusing. Still laughing, she steps in front of me, clearly studying how she will place the nails in my feet. She picks out two more nails from the bag and grabs a piece of wood intended as my seat plug.
Standing on my footrest with locked knees, to relieve my wrists, I have the feeling that all the eyes are on me now. Lucia, still trying to cover her modesty, Messaline watching silently from her cross (difficult to judge her mind now), the spectators, the Legionnaires. It feels like even the crucified dead, behind me, do so!
The executioner steps in front of me :
"I'll nail your feet with two nails. First I would like to attach a seat for you, to later give you an opportunity to take your body weight off the nails. Even when you are dead, your body will stay on it. Take a look at the criminal Cire there, even his penis is still resting on the peg."
For a moment, I stare backward to take a glance, but I hardly can see the dead from my current position.
Meanwhile, the executioner prepares to place the peg between my thighs. That thing is some 15 inches long and also has a spike on one end for fixation. Now, that is a scaring thought, nailing that, too close for comfort to a very sensitive organ. For a moment, my whole body stiffens. She grabs my balls and cock and pushes them aside, places the plug a few inches below my crotch, and hammers it into the Stipes. The grabbing and the hammering almost feel as terrible as a straight kick on my balls. I keep my breath, out of fear, any time the hammer falls.
As it is fixed, I immediately sit down on it, while, relieved from the hanging, I lean my back against the Stipes.
She advises two Legionnaires to secure my feet. One of them is picking up my loincloth, to cover my penis:
"Just in case Dena. I don't want him to piss on us when you nail his feet."
She replies :
"I don't think he will piss. When I nailed the wrists he just squirted a little. That was all. But no problem. In that way we are safe."
Kneeling down, she searches the spot where to place the nail.
Hectorius Is still holding my head, a Legionnaire holds my right foot.
She looks up and asks me :
"Are you ready?"
A little bit confusing question, but she does not await my answer!
Clak. Through the flesh of my right foot, the tip to the wood of the footrest. The first blow makes me shiver upward, shouting from the intense pain, even more intense than in my wrists. But I am missing the energy to keep shouting. Clak, clak. The nail goes into the wood, fixing my bones, splitting them apart. I breathe heavily, keep moaning as the nail is going deeper and deeper, I shake my head. I don’t want this to happen. Then, it is fixed.
I am given no time to recover! Clak, clak, clak. The second nail is securing my left foot. Again threatening hammer blows. I keep moaning! I ask them to stop, but my words are muffled by my confused moaning.
Another ordeal of pain. I try to get away from it, to withdraw my foot, but it is strangely restrained already.
Then, it is over!
I look down. Then, my eyes wander to my wrists, down my body where the Legionnaire is still holding that loincloth, over to Messaline, finally to the laughing and screaming crowd.
A female spectator shouts:
"Take that rag away Legionnaire. We want to see if he will have an erection. If so, we want to see his cock rising."
The Legionnaire replies laughing:
"Here you go," pulls the rag away and says: "When they are dead we will celebrate at the tavern. My cock will still be alright then. It would be good to meet you there."
The executioner and the guards get up and step back, to see if their work is well done.
While they so, it runs to my head, with disbelieve : “I am crucified!”
.
