Nihlufar’s body writhed in excruciating on the cross, exploring how every conceivable angle was utter torture when nailed to the cross. The pain was so extreme that she barely noticed the naked guards milling in front of her, their hard cocks like masts as they looked up at her with joy and arousal on their faces.
How!? She wondered in horror. How can they take pleasure in my suffering!? I am innocent! No! One of the soldiers shuddered as his cock erupted semen onto the ground, his eyes locked onto her breasts as they jiggled in her degrading writhing.
She moaned and groaned in pain, struggling in vain against her nails, as the guards slowly and reluctantly got their clothes and gear back on.
“Form up!” The leader said, and the soldiers began to march down to the road.
“No!” She screamed. “Don’t leave me!” She tried to ask them for Ulmann, but her throat ached and her body was weak, so she sank down, her knees bent as much as the nails in her wrists allowed, her head hung forward, trembling at the pain coursing through her entire body.
She screamed out and used her arms and legs to raise herself up slightly and look around. The guards were marching down the road back to the city, nearly out of view.
They have left us! She thought with horror, any tiny, ridiculous, illogical hope left in the deepest crevices of her mind shattering.
Nihlufar strained her head to the side and looked upon the slave crucified next to her. The busty, cum-splattered blonde was gyrating her hips slowly, straining against her nails desperately, her agony apparent.
Nihlufar looked at the road and saw a caravan passing by, all of the eyes upon their naked, suffering bodies.
Nihlufar cursed the day she ever left Ashar…