The Havaianas Kings Throne

[havaianas]

Please read this before you continue. This thread is to document the Havaianas Kings procession from condemnation to mounting his throne. I've debated for quite some time whether I should post this. However as its Christmas I've decided to give back to the community. Merry Christmas!!! Hopefully some of you will enjoy this as much as I did making it.

REMEMBER this is my sexual fantasy. I get aroused thinking about being crucified and wearing Havaianas flip flops. SOOO... If you don't like seeing a middle aged male hanging naked except for his Havaianas flip flops and a crown of thorns, then please move on.

In the process of writing this and making the photos I've come to realise that I'm a bit of an exhibitionist, and the thought of hanging on a cross, waving my cock at the crowd actually arouses me further. I'm not into pain at all, and the thought of being nailed for real is absolutely terrifying, but as a fantasy.....

This fantasy starts after the Havaianas King has been caught and sentenced to death. The King was caught having sex with a high placed officals wife. When the soldiers entered the room the officals wife was doing naughty things to the King with a pair of havaianas flip flop. Pilate was outraged when he heard and quickly had the King sentenced to the worst punishment possible. Immediate crucifixion, but with the added humiliation of wearing Havaianas on the cross. The soldiers are about to start their fun with the King.


The King has been stripped to his loincloth. He stands before the soldiers, his arms tied, awaiting whatever comes next. The soldiers taunt the scrawny man in front of them, "Hey dickhead we are really looking forward to putting nails through your wrists" calls the first soldier. "What a idiot, not only caught with a senior officals wife, but caught having kinky sex".

 

[havaianas]

"Soldiers", calls the centurion, "Get him whipped and ready for his final walk". The soldiers quickly grab the King and walk him over to the whipping post. There are two soldiers waiting at the post. The ground around it was slippery with the blood of others who had been whipped that day. Each conscript held a whip, made of strips of leather, whose thongs were studded with pieces of bone and small metal spheres. The two soldiers shoved the King, face forward against the post, shackling his hands. One of them then quickly removed the Kings loincloth. All the King had left was his Havaianas flip flops, and they provided no defence from what was about to happen. The soldiers stepped back, each measuring his distance, expertly flicking his whip so that for the moment the thongs only caressed his skin.

The centurian ordered "Start the punishment". The first soldier stepped forward and delivered a lash, the strike opening the skin, the first slivers of flesh torn from the Kings body and his blood starting to run on to the flagstones, mingling with that of the others victims.

Each whip made a whistling sound as it snaked through the air, then a dull thwacking as the strips of leather struck home. The King was being steadily cut open from the back of his head to his heels. After every few lashes the centurion stepped forward to estimate how much more he could bear. Each time he motioned for the torture to resume.

The King danced at the pole. Each time the whip landed he jumped and jiggled. This continued for sometime until the agony and pain became to much and the King fainted. The centurion called a stop. The man had received enough whipping. It was time to get him to the hill.

One of the soldier stepped forward, and release the shackles. The King dropped unconscious at the foot of the scourging post. The other soldier picked up a pail of water mixed with salt and sloshed it over him: the stinging brine was a routine way to revive a victim and help stem the flow of blood.

 

[havaianas]

The King was hauled to his feet and held upright until he could feel some return of strength. His body ached with pain, which grew in intensity as full consciousness returned. He stood shivering in shock. One of the soldiers picked up his loincloth and threw it at him. "Put this back on King. Can't have you in your birthday suit as we meet your subjects". The King slowly struggles with the loincloth but eventually manages to get his penis snugged back in the cloth. A soldier grabbed a robe from the clothesline and placed it on the Kings back. Another soldier fetched a faggot of dead thorns used as firelighters from a pile stacked in the courtyard. The soldier shaped it into a pileus, the oval shaped hat Romans often wore when attending festive ocassions. The thorns are about two inches long. The King felt them pierce this flesh of his scalp as the soldier forced it over his forehead. The king was crowned and dressed.


"Right, funs over. Get him loaded. We need to get him onto the hill" ordered the centurion. A soldier quickly rips off the kingly robe, tearing open a mass of wounds, making the blood come down everywhere. The fabric sticks in some parts, the Roman pulls harder. The King is left with his loincloth and crown. The soldiers grab him, one of each arm and lead him from the courtyard down a corridor.

 

[havaianas]

The soldiers stop the King at the beam room. "Lift your arms up in a Y shape" ordered the beam master. Quickly he held up measurement stick between the Kings arms. "He needs one off that pile" said the beam master as he pointed at a fourth pile of beams lined up down the wall. The soldiers lead the King to the stack. "Pick one King. Its your throne" laughed one of the soldiers.

The king looked at the beams and noticed they had all been used previously. All had holes with blood stains from previous victims. He pointed at the top one. "Nice pick King, you will look good mounted on that one" joked one of the soldiers. The soldiers hurriedly loaded the beam onto the Kings shoulders. "Lets go King, its time to meet your adoring public. Its a quick walk to your throne room up the hill". With a kick, the King began his final walk to the place of execution.

 

[havaianas]

It wasn't more than a 10 minute walk, and all to soon the King saw the hill. The King lifts his head and looks up the hill, where already one man is nailed to a cross, and he can hear the screams of another being raised as well. Three shall die today. Three. He quickly ascends to the top.

The King walks off the path, pushed by a guard towards the south edge of the worn down hilltop. He walks past the first post and the soldiers working in front of it, and is stopped in front of the second post. He is turned around, to face the crowd, and watches the soldiers in front of the first post. They are now lifting another beam onto its post, a man suspended from it, screaming. He is naked, and covered in dirt.

The King watches as they hold him against the post, the beam is lifted over the top of the post, mating with a tenon joint. The soldier lifts the mans foot, and start hammering the nail through. Blood spurts out. The man cries and screams. The nail is driven through. He shrieks in pain. Then seems to faint. The second foot quickly follows. The man on the other cross looks on. Also naked, he doesn't seem to care anymore about anything. He has been there since morning, there is dried blood along the cross, pouring out when he adjusts even a little bit, tearing open his wounds. His body is still trying to heal itself. These are wounds which will never heal. Now finished raising the second man, the executioners pause for a moment. A bucket of water is passed around. They drink, and laugh.

One of them asks, "What's this one done?" He points to the King.

A soldier replies, "Sexual pervert, caught with his dick somewhere it shouldn't have been. Pilate called him the Havaianas King, King of flip flops, guess thats why he has a pair of Havaianas tied to his crime sign"

They all laugh. The soldier tells them of the beating, the mocking.

"Well, I haven't killed a king yet, this'll be a first, even if it is only the King of flip flops. Alright, get him ready."

"Put the beam in front of that stipes" orders one of the soldiers. The King walks the last couple of steps and drops the beam. He slumps down onto the ground beside the beam he just carried. He sits there for a few moments before the soldier orders him to strip. "Get naked, its time to mount your throne". The King steps out of his beloved Havaianas, his last piece of clothing. He looks down and thinks about the morning, and the fun that he had, but also the trouble they have now got him in. He starts to get aroused thinking about it.


"Hey" exclaims the executioner "put your flip flops back on. You are going to die with those nailed to your feet, Pilates orders. However you do need to remove your loincloth". The King quickly slides his feet back into his precious Havaianas. The King looks down at the bloodstained cloth. He knows that the penalty of crucifixion means he must die naked. He slowly unwraps the loincloth and drops it to the ground. He is now naked except for his crown of thorns and the Havaianas flip flops on his feet. He is ready to mount his throne.

"He's not Jewish, and he seems to be enjoying this" one of the executioners says once the King is stripped, looking down and seeing the that King penis is not circumcised, and that it is now fully erect. All the soldiers are now looking at the King. All they see is his bloodied body ready to be crucified.

"This man has been accused and convicted of perversion," the officer reads. "He is a threat to the Empire and to humanity. Under the watchful eye of our Lord, Tiberius Caesar, and by order of Governor Pilatus, he shall be crucified. Let all the enemies of Rome see what happens to the enemies of Rome. xxxx, formerly of the city of xxxx, King of Havaianas, is now cursed and rejected by all people. Place him on the cross."

The King hearing the command to start crucifying him, doesn't wait for the soldiers. He turns to see where the beam is, and takes one step to his left to center himself with the beam. He turns to face the crowd and quickly sits down, and then lies back, placing his head on the beam like a pillow. He lies his legs flat, and then lifts his arms up, to place his wrists flush on the beam. Now in position, the executers take over. The other soldiers stand back and watch, more bored than anything else.

"Looks like this king doesn't have very loyal subjects," one of the Romans says, garnering a laugh. "Not even willing to lift a finger to help him out at a bad time like this. They never do stand together do they? But then, how many of them worship the Havaianas King?"

The soldier who was now pulling his left arm back says. "Okay, sire, let's get this started." The king waited for the agonising piercing of his wrists with nails.

 

[havaianas]

The King lay there, his breathing becoming short and shallow. Two soldier grab his arms and hold them down. The executioner picks up a spike. He feels for the bones at the bottom of the Kings hand. There, where the pulse of life is found, he places the point of the cold steel nail, knowing the exact spot to hold him up without letting him bleed to death within a couple of hours.

BANG! Blood spurts out, the nail goes through the Kings wrist, halfway into the wood. The iron sliced his wrist’s median nerve, sending roaring pain up his entire arm, exploding into his brain. He choked on the air that gasped and groaned from his lips. He pulls his feet flat, loosing the left Havaianas flip flop in the process, arching his back in violent pain, his face contorted in the agony. His mouth is wide open, and out comes a scream of pure agony. The pain radiates from that one spot in waves – those waves washing over and over, burning and throbbing.

BANG! The nail goes through more. He continues screaming and throwing his body around as the nail slides through.

BANG! The hammer pounds the head into his wrist all the way through, slamming into his flesh. The tip of the nail is now sticking out the back of the wood.

"There you are, nice and comfortable."

"I'm thinking he's used to a little bit different form of service. He doesn't seem to pleased with what you have to offer."

"Ungrateful, that's what all these people are. Okay, let's fasten that other hand."

Three more bangs of the hammer and more screaming, and the second limb is firmly attached.

The King is now attached to the beam. He writhes back and forth upon his throne. The King lifts his head from the beam and looks down his body. Its covered in sweat. His feet, one with a Havaianas flip flop, and one without were slowly shuffling back and fourth in the dirt. The King slowly stops moving, as any movement causes pain. He lies there, arms spread, vulnerable, all his goods on display.

The soldiers grab the beam, three on each side, lifting it high. The King is pulled to a sitting position, then the soldiers lift him to his feet, using nothing but the nails in his wrists. He screams and scrambles to stand to get off the nails in his wrists. They back him up to the tall upright beam darkened with the blood of countless other victims.

They lift the beam over their heads, a few more using small ladders, lift up more and place the crosspiece onto the tenon at the top of the pole. The Kings feet momentarily leave the ground as the beam goes over the tenon. He has his first taste of what crucifixion is, as all his weight hangs on those two nails. He writhes in agony.

The King now receieves a moments reprieve from his final nailing. There is a disturbance on the hill. Another messenger has arrived. The King is left standing, half crucified on his cross while the soldiers talk with the messenger. The crowd gets their first look. He stands there, his arms pulled high and outwards by the nails in his wrists. There is little blood and the King is squirming a little as he looks up at his wrists. He is breathing heavily, his stomach going in and out as he hyper ventilates due to the pain. His hard cock is still pointing at the sky and some in the crowd make rude jokes about him enjoying his current situation. All to soon the soldiers return to finish his mounting.

"Right lets start with the left foot" the executioner says.

Two soldiers grab the King left leg and lift it up. The King quickly transfers all his weight onto his right leg. The soldiers try to get his foot well up and not far from his bum. "Hold up your Majesty" laughs the soldier, "we can't have you up on display incorrectly dressed can we". He reaches down grabs the Havaianas flip flop and slides it back onto the Kings foot. The foot is placed back flush on the stipes.

The executioner has grabbed two more nails. He steps over and kneels down in front of the King. He looks up at the Kings hard cock. "First time I've worshipped a King with an erection" he laughs. He places the nail in the middle of the foot, just above the V shape created by the strap of the Havaiana flip flop.

BANG! The nail slides through the foot, out the sole of the flip flop and into the tree. BANG! BANG! The nail is now flush with the Kings foot. The King screams in agony and jerks forward and back, thrusting his hard cock at the crowd.

 

[dfg42]

In the process of writing this and making the photos I've come to realise that I'm a bit of an exhibitionist, and the thought of hanging on a cross, waving my cock at the crowd actually arouses me further. I'm not into pain at all, and the thought of being nailed for real is absolutely terrifying, but as a fantasy.....

Ty for sharing your fetish, quite interesting, funny and also revealing and thanks for your openness. I thought that the flip-flops, or Aldiletten we say in my place, could be used to fix the crucified. You add a similar thing on the patibulum and the cornu on the sedile. Now the victim is just forced to mount himself or herself to the cross - So the nails are replaced by your fetish and it gives surely pan using the flip-flops that way.

 

[sdfgt]

The King lay there, his breathing becoming short and shallow. Two soldier grab his arms and hold them down. The executioner picks e pulls his feet flat, loosing

The King lay there, his breathing becoming short and shallow. Two soldier grab his arms and hold them down. The executioner picks up a spike. He feels for the bones at the bottom of the Kings hand. There, where the pulse of life is found, he places the point of the cold steel nail, knowing the exact spot to hold him up without letting him bleed to death within a couple of hours.

BANG! Blood spurts out, the nail goes through the Kings wrist, halfway into the wood. The iron sliced his wrist’s median nerve, sending roaring pain up his entire arm, exploding into his brain. He choked on the air that gasped and groaned from his lips. He pulls his feet flat, loosing the left Havaianas flip flop in the process, arching his back in violent pain, his face contorted in the agony. His mouth is wide open, and out comes a scream of pure agony. The pain radiates from that one spot in waves – those waves washing over and over, burning and throbbing.

BANG! The nail goes through more. He continues screaming and throwing his body around as the nail slides through.

BANG! The hammer pounds the head into his wrist all the way through, slamming into his flesh. The tip of the nail is now sticking out the back of the wood.

"There you are, nice and comfortable."

"I'm thinking he's used to a little bit different form of service. He doesn't seem to pleased with what you have to offer."

"Ungrateful, that's what all these people are. Okay, let's fasten that other hand."

Three more bangs of the hammer and more screaming, and the second limb is firmly attached.

The King is now attached to the beam. He writhes back and forth upon his throne. The King lifts his head from the beam and looks down his body. Its covered in sweat. His feet, one with a Havaianas flip flop, and one without were slowly shuffling back and fourth in the dirt. The King slowly stops moving, as any movement causes pain. He lies there, arms spread, vulnerable, all his goods on display.

The soldiers grab the beam, three on each side, lifting it high. The King is pulled to a sitting position, then the soldiers lift him to his feet, using nothing but the nails in his wrists. He screams and scrambles to stand to get off the nails in his wrists. They back him up to the tall upright beam darkened with the blood of countless other victims.

They lift the beam over their heads, a few more using small ladders, lift up more and place the crosspiece onto the tenon at the top of the pole. The Kings feet momentarily leave the ground as the beam goes over the tenon. He has his first taste of what crucifixion is, as all his weight hangs on those two nails. He writhes in agony.

The King now receieves a moments reprieve from his final nailing. There is a disturbance on the hill. Another messenger has arrived. The King is left standing, half crucified on his cross while the soldiers talk with the messenger. The crowd gets their first look. He stands there, his arms pulled high and outwards by the nails in his wrists. There is little blood and the King is squirming a little as he looks up at his wrists. He is breathing heavily, his stomach going in and out as he hyper ventilates due to the pain. His hard cock is still pointing at the sky and some in the crowd make rude jokes about him enjoying his current situation. All to soon the soldiers return to finish his mounting.

"Right lets start with the left foot" the executioner says.

Two soldiers grab the King left leg and lift it up. The King quickly transfers all his weight onto his right leg. The soldiers try to get his foot well up and not far from his bum. "Hold up your Majesty" laughs the soldier, "we can't have you up on display incorrectly dressed can we". He reaches down grabs the Havaianas flip flop and slides it back onto the Kings foot. The foot is placed back flush on the stipes.

The executioner has grabbed two more nails. He steps over and kneels down in front of the King. He looks up at the Kings hard cock. "First time I've worshipped a King with an erection" he laughs. He places the nail in the middle of the foot, just above the V shape created by the strap of the Havaiana flip flop.

BANG! The nail slides through the foot, out the sole of the flip flop and into the tree. BANG! BANG! The nail is now flush with the Kings foot. The King screams in agony and jerks forward and back, thrusting his hard cock at the crowd.

the left Havaianas flip flop in the process, arching his back in violent pain, his face contorted in the agony. His mouth is wide open, and out comes a scream of pure agony. The pain radiates from that one spot in waves – those waves washing over and over, burning and throbbing.

BANG! The nail goes through more. He continues screaming and throwing his body around as the nail slides through.

BANG! The hammer pounds the head into his wrist all the way through, slamming into his flesh. The tip of the nail is now sticking out the back of the wood.

"There you are, nice and comfortable."

"I'm thinking he's used to a little bit different form of service. He doesn't seem to pleased with what you have to offer."

"Ungrateful, that's what all these people are. Okay, let's fasten that other hand."

Three more bangs of the hammer and more screaming, and the second limb is firmly attached.

The King is now attached to the beam. He writhes back and forth upon his throne. The King lifts his head from the beam and looks down his body. Its covered in sweat. His feet, one with a Havaianas flip flop, and one without were slowly shuffling back and fourth in the dirt. The King slowly stops moving, as any movement causes pain. He lies there, arms spread, vulnerable, all his goods on display.

The soldiers grab the beam, three on each side, lifting it high. The King is pulled to a sitting position, then the soldiers lift him to his feet, using nothing but the nails in his wrists. He screams and scrambles to stand to get off the nails in his wrists. They back him up to the tall upright beam darkened with the blood of countless other victims.

They lift the beam over their heads, a few more using small ladders, lift up more and place the crosspiece onto the tenon at the top of the pole. The Kings feet momentarily leave the ground as the beam goes over the tenon. He has his first taste of what crucifixion is, as all his weight hangs on those two nails. He writhes in agony.

The King now receieves a moments reprieve from his final nailing. There is a disturbance on the hill. Another messenger has arrived. The King is left standing, half crucified on his cross while the soldiers talk with the messenger. The crowd gets their first look. He stands there, his arms pulled high and outwards by the nails in his wrists. There is little blood and the King is squirming a little as he looks up at his wrists. He is breathing heavily, his stomach going in and out as he hyper ventilates due to the pain. His hard cock is still pointing at the sky and some in the crowd make rude jokes about him enjoying his current situation. All to soon the soldiers return to finish his mounting.

"Right lets start with the left foot" the executioner says.

Two soldiers grab the King left leg and lift it up. The King quickly transfers all his weight onto his right leg. The soldiers try to get his foot well up and not far from his bum. "Hold up your Majesty" laughs the soldier, "we can't have you up on display incorrectly dressed can we". He reaches down grabs the Havaianas flip flop and slides it back onto the Kings foot. The foot is placed back flush on the stipes.

The executioner has grabbed two more nails. He steps over and kneels down in front of the King. He looks up at the Kings hard cock. "First time I've worshipped a King with an erection" he laughs. He places the nail in the middle of the foot, just above the V shape created by the strap of the Havaiana flip flop.

BANG! The nail slides through the foot, out the sole of the flip flop and into the tree. BANG! BANG! The nail is now flush with the Kings foot. The King screams in agony and jerks forward and back, thrusting his hard cock at the crowd.

And I suggest that I want to see a video of him hanging on the cross and ejaculating. And I want to see him sweating on the cross.

 

[havaianas]

The soldier grab the Kings right leg and lift. The executioner takes the last nail and places it.
BANG! The other nail goes in, blood spurts into the face of the Roman, who curses, and wipes it off. BANG!
"That's it, I'm done." The King jerks forward and back in agony as the nail travels through him. Its the only movement the pinned man can now make. His hard penis bobs in time with the jerks.

Now the King is firmly attached to his throne. His impaled feet, barely a handspan above the ground. This too was part of the torture. For now the crowd had direct access to his body. Barely two minutes have passed since they started crucifying him. Now hours of torture remain.

"The sign."

"Right, forgot about that."

The soldier grabs the board on the ground, climbs the ladder.

With only a slight amount of effort he nails in the board, the charges against the King, so that all who pass by can see what not to do, while they see why not.

The Kings cross is planted; crucified and displayed before a lustful crowd. Of all the tortures ever created by man, the slow death by crucifixion was by far the worst. It seemed to have incorporated every kind of pain and suffering the the human body could endure. The long hours impaled to a wooden beam, while lifted up in nakedness for public display, was enough to shame the most hardened heart. Except for the King. He was now on display. And even though he was in incredible pain, he was turned on by the fact that everyone could see him in his nakedness. His hard cock hardened slightly more as he looked out from his cross at the crowd. He wished he could touch it and rub it, but just being on display for the crowd was enough for now.