The Naked Truth

[mp5stab]

I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts so far. It's a long story, I know, but I think it will be worth it. Due to some forums problems I was unable to post yesterday, but that all should be sorted now.

 

[xso]

I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts so far. It's a long story, I know, but I think it will be worth it. Due to some forums problems I was unable to post yesterday, but that all should be sorted now.

Wonderful story, love it! Interesting setting, let's hope that AI takes us there soon... Let's also hope that Cara will not be able to fool the soldiers a second time....some sex scenes would also be nice to read about.....Thanks, and good luck with the continuation!

 

[mp5stab]

Wonderful story, love it! Interesting setting, let's hope that AI takes us there soon... Let's also hope that Cara will not be able to fool the soldiers a second time....some sex scenes would also be nice to read about.....Thanks, and good luck with the continuation!

Fool them with what? She was telling the truth. And don't worry, there will be sex scenes.

 

[thehangingtree]

Tree question... Does Cara remember her modern life or has that disappeared?

 

[Barbaria1]

I liked the part where she enjoyed the feel of her long hair caressing her body.

 

[mp5stab]

Tree question... Does Cara remember her modern life or has that disappeared?

She remembers! For her, its an unbroken moment of consciousness. That's why she was tired sooner in the day than she would be normally. I mean I guess I never made it explicit, but I treated it very much like an actual trip; going back thousands of years would take just as much out of you as flying transcontinental. Thus, she wound up very much like she was jet-lagged. That's also one of the reasons the trips are scheduled as weeklong excursions even though large changes could potentially "untether" the person; there is a subjective travel time while you are in the liminal space of the clean room, you don't just instantaneously arrive at the time and place you are headed, in the same way that when you fall asleep, you don't usually immediately wake up the next morning. Except this is not restful, it is something that happens to you while you are conscious.

I liked the part where she enjoyed the feel of her long hair caressing her body.

I have chosen to embrace that. This is only the beginning of the lavish and self-indulgent descriptions of long hair. In fact, there is a whole chapter of hair kink incoming. Anyone want another chapter?

 

[xso]

She remembers! For her, its an unbroken moment of consciousness. That's why she was tired sooner in the day than she would be normally. I mean I guess I never made it explicit, but I treated it very much like an actual trip; going back thousands of years would take just as much out of you as flying transcontinental. Thus, she wound up very much like she was jet-lagged. That's also one of the reasons the trips are scheduled as weeklong excursions even though large changes could potentially "untether" the person; there is a subjective travel time while you are in the liminal space of the clean room, you don't just instantaneously arrive at the time and place you are headed, in the same way that when you fall asleep, you don't usually immediately wake up the next morning. Except this is not restful, it is something that happens to you while you are conscious.

I have chosen to embrace that. This is only the beginning of the lavish and self-indulgent descriptions of long hair. In fact, there is a whole chapter of hair kink incoming. Anyone want another chapter

Ofc! Please!!!! A whole chapter with hair kink? Will that be the first time ever in a crux story? Looking forward to that!

 

[Loxuru]

I missed the start, but then I rushed to the time machine! It is a good and original time-travel story developing. It is remarkable how Cara is caught between her scientific zeal to go as far as being subjected to the punishment that is the subject of her research, and the reality of being threatened already with flogging by the soldiers, and more fearful prospects. It will take a lot of guts from her to let things happen as she planned.

And we noticed the presence of a certain Prof. Moore, who has already been in peril herself in Roman Antioch.

 

[mp5stab]

The Old Woman​

As Cara finally got past the guards at the South Gate of the city, her heart was racing with anticipation. She had planned this moment for weeks, and she knew that the path to the place of crucifixion would be fraught with danger. But she was determined to see her theory confirmed, and she was not about to let a few burly guards stand in her way.

As she approached the place of execution, she was greeted by the sight of three crosses standing tall in the morning sun. Two of them were merely empty stipetes, simple vertical beams of wood with only a few dried blood marks revealing their true nature, but the third was still occupied by a woman who looked to be dead, or dying very soon. Her chest was still, and her arms were taut, and this worried Cara; was she already too late? She had long gray hair that cascaded down her back and grazed her ankles in a thick ponytail, and her body was wrinkled and worn. But even in the twilight of her suffering, there was something beautiful and feminine about her.

Cara was so caught up in her observations that she almost didn't notice the woman on the cross was still quite alive until one of the guards shook the cross to make sure she was still alive. The woman gasped voicelessly, then wailed in agony, and her eyes locked onto Cara's. She could not look away now. Another soldier drew a small hammer, and rapidly tapped all of the nails that held the poor woman fast, fixed to the wood, in a rapid and passionless succession. The woman looked at her with the desperate, broken, and thoughtless pleading her eyes could summon.

“Kill me, I beg you!” she whimpered. “Let me die…”

“She’s secure, sir.” the guard with the hammer said, turning to the other, who was inspecting a nearly-empty vessel.

“Good, the clock has almost run out. Get ready to head back, soldier, she’s not going anywhere.” he chuckled to himself, stifling a yawn. “Not much of a show to be had tonight. Daphne gate is more fun when there are younger women up there, that is a proper spectacle, goes on all night. Fourth watch will be turning up any minute now.”

And with that the two soldiers departed back to their campfire. Cara knew that she had found her confirmation. She had always suspected that the Romans used the place of crucifixion as a means of torture and entertainment, and now she had heard it and seen it with her own eyes.

But it was hardly a popular show, besides the two guards, rearing to be relieved from their posts, Cara was the only one around. The old woman's cries were the only sound that broke the silence of the empty road. Despite her suffering, there was no one around to show her any mercy. The two guards standing by the crosses seemed indifferent to her plight, their faces expressionless as they watched and waited for the last few drops of water to end their shift intently, and paid no mind to the predicament of the old woman.

The only other person in sight was Cara, who couldn’t help but oblige the woman with a glance of sympathy as she looked into her old, tired eyes. The old woman bid her to come forward with her head nodding upwards. “Pleaase… come closer,” she begged.

Cara couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence as she approached the crucified woman. Despite the wrinkles and wear on her body, there was a timeless beauty about her that was undeniable. As she approached, she couldn’t help but notice the hoop earrings the old woman wore, and as she got closer, the woman's gray eyes seemed to sparkle with a wisdom and understanding that only comes with age.

"Your outfit is stunning, my dear, timeless…" the woman said, her voice filled with warmth, though she could barely do more than speak in a whisper. "And your golden hair is radiant. I wish to give you a blessing."

Cara was taken aback by the request. "Why?" she asked.

The woman gave her a sad smile that quickly turned to a grimace of pain. "Because I don't want you to end up like me. I'd rather you lead a full life."

“How will I end up like you?” Cara asked. “How would you know?”

The Woman replied: "My dear, please do not be afraid. I can see the fear in your eyes. But do not worry, I am not here to harm you. I only wish to give you a blessing before I am gone."

"I appreciate your kind words, but I am not afraid. I am here of my own accord. I am a traveler, studying the Roman crucifixion," replied Cara

"Ah, I see. Well, I wish you the best in your studies, but please do not end up on this cross like me,” she said breathlessly, and gritted her teeth before continuing, “It is not a fate I would wish upon anyone, no matter their curiosity. What is there to learn about four square nails and two rough pieces of wood?” She laughed weakly and bitterly.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about crucifixion yet. I’m not from this land. I don’t know how it’s used, or on whom, or how it feels.” Cara said

"Child, I am from this land and I have experienced… ahhh!... the agony of the cross firsthand. It is a brutal and cruel punishment, reserved for the lowest of criminals.” The woman paused, shamefully understanding that it was now herself she was describing, then grunted as she pulled herself forward. “The Romans use it to strike fear into the hearts of those who dare defy their rule. And as for how it feels, I can assure you that it is beyond comprehension. The pain is unrelenting and the shame is suffocating.
But more than that, it is a sentence of slow, agonizing death. The sun beats down on you, the thirst consumes you, and the hunger eats at you. And all the while, the crowds come to mock and jeer and watch you suffer.”

She paused for a moment, slumping low on the torturous wood, looking intently at Cara. Her chest and ribcage heaved rapidly with short, pitiful breaths."But you already know this, don't you? You speak of not knowing about crucifixion, but your eyes betray you, traveler. You know more than you are letting on. Please, dear girl, don't lie to me. Speak the naked truth. What do you really know about all of this?"

 

[Harsh Martinet]

The Soldiers​

Cara had secretly added a subroutine to her neural lace, one that would allow her to wake far earlier than she would naturally; far before the sun rose, and before Daniel could be awake to stop her. She needed to put her plans into motion as quickly as possible if she were to succeed.

The neural lace was a wonder of assisted computing, non invasive, but tremendously powerful. She didn’t even feel tired as her eyes opened to the early morning darkness. She felt well rested even, despite her alarming vision, a vision that she was now in the process of forgetting. The lace would heal and oxygenate her brain as if it was in a restful state continuously, allowing her consciousness without the metabolic cost, only the mental cost.

Cara began to dress herself once again, in the ironic quiet of the Gallicinium, the hour of the cock crowing, only to run into the first hiccup of her plan. Since the wardrobe that the university had bought for her with her clothing for the week she was in Antioch was in the bedroom on Daniel’s side of the fourth story, Cara had no choice but to quickly shuffle back into her outfit from the day before, and also did her hair in the same bun style, so that she would be able to bring the headband with her and leave nothing in the room. Such a headband, golden and expertly crafted would be a fortune in this time. Misplacing any one piece of an outfit this luxurious could be enough to untether her from reality.

This was a mistake, wearing the same outfit that she had arrived in, making it look like she had been up all night to the guards, and up to no good. One of many she would make as she darted out of the inn before dawn and scrambled towards the Daphne Gate.

She couldn't help but feel the eyes of the city watchmen on her, even with minimal light at the end of the third watch they must have noticed her in the same dress from the night before, a luxurious garment that had drawn attention to her as she moved through the crowded streets. Cara tried to keep her cool as the soldiers closed in on her, their eyes narrowed with suspicion.

The soldiers wore simple tunics of rough, unbleached linen, cinched at the waist with a belt of well-worn leather. Their boots were battered and mud-caked, evidence of the long hours they spent patrolling the streets of the city. Each man carried a short sword at his side, its blade dulled by its frequent use. A thick, wooden club hung from a loop on each soldier's belt, ready to be used as a weapon of intimidation or force. Despite their rugged appearance, there was a sense of authority about the soldiers, a sense that they were not to be trifled with.

"What are you doing out here, girl?" one of them asked, his voice gruff and menacing. "It's not safe for a woman to be wandering these streets alone."

Cara tried to remain calm, but her heart was racing. She had nothing to hide, but she knew that the soldiers could be unpredictable. "I'm just on my way to the southern gate," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "I have business to attend to."

The soldiers exchanged a skeptical look, and one of them, probably the lead soldier, stepped forward, his eyes narrowed.

"What kind of business?" he demanded. "We've had reports of a thief in the area, and you look like you've been up all night."

She knew that she had to come up with a convincing story, or else risk being accused of something much worse than simply staying out all night.

“Out mighty early for a stroll, are we?”

"I was just sleeping above the inn, I had some early morning errands," she insisted, trying to maintain a calm and steady voice. "I swear, I wasn't up to anything nefarious."

But the soldiers were unconvinced, their expressions hard and unyielding. "We don't believe you," one of them growled, his voice laced with threat. "We think you're hiding something. What were you really doing last night?"

Cara's mind raced, trying to come up with a plausible lie. And then, in a moment of desperation, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I saw a bread thief!" she exclaimed, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could even think about them.

The soldiers seemed taken aback by this revelation, and for a moment, Cara thought she might have convinced them. But then one of them stepped forward again, his face twisted into a sneer. "We never mentioned anything about a bread thief," he hissed. "We think you're lying. And if you don't tell us the truth, right now, you'll be sorry."

"I-I'm sorry," Cara stuttered, her voice shaking with fear. "I just wanted to help, I didn't mean to get anyone in trouble."

The soldier sneered at her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You expect us to believe that? You're trying to distract us, to throw us off your trail. You think we're fools, don't you?"

Cara shook her head frantically, tears welling up in her eyes. "No, no! I swear, I saw the thief. I'm telling the truth!"

"The truth, you say?" The soldier sneered. "Well, we'll see about that. If you're lying to us, you'll be joining that thief at the whipping post! And if you're telling the truth, you'll be rewarded for your honesty.”

"Please, I'm telling the truth," Cara pleaded, her voice shaking with fear and desperation. "She had curly red hair, I swear it. I saw her running through the streets with a brown cloak. I don't know who she is, but I promise you that's all I know."

The lead soldier studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Very well," he said finally, his voice laced with skepticism. "We'll follow your lead. But if we catch this bread thief and she’s not like your description, we’ll know that you've lied to us, you’ll be flogged in the agora."

Cara couldn't suppress a shiver at the thought. The idea of being flogged was terrifying and erotic, but at the same time, there was a strange thrill that coursed through her veins at the thought of being punished, tortured, and in public alongside the thief. She couldn't shake the feeling that, in some twisted way, she was destined to suffer alongside this mysterious girl, whoever she was.

"I understand," she said quietly, hoping that her guilty conscience didn't give her away. "I won't lie to you. I just want to help catch this thief and put an end to her crimes."
The soldier gave her a hard look before nodding. "Very well. We'll be watching you, and if we find out you're lying to us, you'll pay the price."

With that, he turned and stormed off, leaving Cara to contemplate the consequences of her actions. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was playing a dangerous game, and that her fate was now intertwined with that of the redheaded thief. There was very low odds that even a city such as Antioch had more than a couple of true ginger-haired women, so the guards would soon find her.

She wondered what it would be like to see her struggling and writhing on the cross. She was hardly yet a woman. Would she cry out in pain? Would she beg for mercy? Would she succumb to the pleasure of her own suffering? As she walked away from the soldiers, Cara also couldn't shake the image of the redheaded thief hanging on the cross, and the thought of it sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn't wait to see it for herself, but first there was another crucifixion that required her study.

I love Cara's reflections on being flogged!

 

[mp5stab]

The Naked Truth​

“I know only what I have been told, but…” Cara trailed off. It was dangerous to interact with any person from the past for too long. But this woman would die anyway. There was no consequence. She would be honest.

“But I do know that it's an excruciating and degrading experience, and I can only imagine the pain and suffering you've endured on this cross. Your hair, once thick and luscious, is now gray and tangled, hanging down in a long ponytail. Your skin is stretched tight over your bones, your face contorted in agony. I can see the sweat and tears streaming down your face, and I can hear the ragged breaths you take as you struggle to stay alive.

“Despite all of this, there is a strange beauty in your suffering. I can't explain it, but there is something undeniably sensual about the way you hang there, completely vulnerable and exposed. Your body is a canvas of pain and pleasure, and I can't help but be drawn to it.

“But as I stand here, looking at you, I can't help but feel a sense of sadness. This road is empty, the landscape around us barren and desolate. The only sign of life is the far-off farmlands, and even they seem distant and disconnected from this place of suffering. It's as if you are completely alone in your agony, with no one to comfort or care for you. It's a cruel and unfair fate, and I can't help but feel a sense of guilt for being a spectator to your pain.

But I can't look away. I'm drawn to you, to the way you hang there on the cross, the way your body contorts and writhes in agony. I can't help but be aroused by your suffering, and I can't shake the feeling that I want to be a part of it.

I know I should leave, that I should turn and walk away from this place of suffering. But I can't bring myself to do it. I'm drawn to you, to the way you hang there on the cross, and I can't shake the feeling that I want to be a part of it."

The woman laughed, before the pain overtook her again and she fell silent.

“Well, then…” the woman shook her head, causing her hoop earrings to swing back and forth. “You will need a much stronger blessing. A powerful one sealed with a kiss! You are now set on a path of great suffering. I understand what you are going to go through, my dear. I have been through it all myself. The pain, the humiliation, the shame. It's all too much to bear at times.” She pushed herself up weakly with her legs. “But… ahh!... If you are brave enough to endure it, you will find that it can also bring great pleasure. The pleasure of submission, of relinquishing control, of giving in to the pain and letting it consume you. And who knows, perhaps you will even find a way to turn it to your advantage.” The woman groaned in pain, the groans broken in her throat. “Succeed where I could not. I have not the stoicism or resolve. Take my blessing for that, I would very much appreciate the sweet taste of your soft lips on mine.”

The old woman then lowered herself as much as she could, hanging taut on her wrist nails, her knees pressed outwards and her whipped back on the wood. The two guards had left a step-ladder nearby, for the nail-checking, that was the right height. Cara quickly moved the ladder to the front on the cross, and then, with her hands between the crucified woman’s thighs, parting her legs open, she ascended for her blessing. As Cara leaned in towards the old woman, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and desire rising within her. She had always been fascinated by the forbidden and taboo, and kissing an older, crucified woman on the lips seemed like the ultimate act of defiance and transgression.

The old woman's lips were dry and chapped, but there was a depth of emotion and longing in their kiss that transcended their physical appearance. Cara closed her eyes and surrendered to the moment, allowing herself to be swept away by the intensity of the old woman's desire.

Cara pulled back from the kiss, feeling a warmth spreading through her body. She looked at the old woman with a mix of curiosity and compassion. "What's your name?" she asked softly.

The old woman smiled, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “Can’t read? I thought you were of noble stock. My name is Agatha, says so right above my head," she said. "And you, my dear, are a very brave and compassionate young woman."

Cara blushed, feeling a sense of pride wash over her. "Thank you, Agatha," she said. "I hope that my actions can bring some small measure of comfort to you in your time of suffering."

Agatha chuckled again, her laughter echoing across the empty morning road. "Oh, my dear, you have no idea what comfort means to someone in my position," she said. "But your kindness is much appreciated. And who knows, perhaps it will bring you some luck on your own journey. Now, let me give you my blessing…."

“Cara,”

“...Cara,”

“But you’ve already kissed me…”

“No, that was a blessing for me, not for you,” she cracked the briefest of smirks before closing her eyes and beginning to speak in Greek, with a prayer for safety and protection. When she finished, she opened her eyes and looked at Cara with a sad smile.

"There, my dear. May that blessing keep you safe and bring you a long and fulfilling life. Now, I must rest. The cross takes a lot out of a person."

"Thank you,” replied Cara. “May I ask, what crime did you commit that led you here?"

"I would rather not speak of it…” replied Agatha. “It is a source of shame for me. All you need to know is that my titilus reads ‘Adultera et Fornicatrix’ and ‘Meretrix Publica’ – I was once a prostitute, selling my body for the pleasure of others. But when I became too old and no longer profitable, I was sold out to the authorities and sentenced to the cross.

"I'm ashamed of what I've done," the old woman admits, tears welling in her eyes. "But I deserve this punishment. I've lived a sinful life and now I'm paying the price."

"The crucifixion is performed in the nude, but yet you still wear jewelry, those hoop earrings?" Cara asks, noticing the glittering jewelry on Agatha's ears.

The old woman gives a sad smile. "They're a sign that I was a publica, a prostitute. It's a way for everyone to know my crime. It's a mark of shame, but it's also a warning to others."

"And the ponytail? Is that a sign as well?" Cara asks, noting the simple hairstyle of the old woman.

“Well, it’s good for cocksucking, that’s for sure,” Agatha said, “But, no.” Agatha pulled herself up with great effort through gritted teeth and shook her ponytail back and forth at the apex of her ascent.

"It's tradition on the cross, in this part of the world," she explained. "We're forbidden to have our hair loose. It's a sign of our shame and our submission to our punishment."

“Seems like an odd tradition.” Cara replied

“Well, traveler, this is the tradition that should be least alien to you. I’m sure it's pragmatic too;” Agatha begins, “it also helps them out because it ensures no cute little lady can hide their breasts beneath a curtain of hair. But my breasts aren’t much to look at, they just want to see me in pain, make sure my pierced ears are uncovered so every insult is heard!”

Cara knew that everything that was being said here would be copied to her neural lace and be inconceivable evidence to her peers at Santa Emilia if she simply survived the week. Cara would have been swept away in enthusiasm if not presented so starkly with the cruel agony of Agatha. As the old woman spoke, Cara felt a sense of sadness wash over her. She couldn't imagine the pain and suffering that the old woman had endured on the cross, and she can't help but feel a sense of sympathy for her.

Agatha's voice was heavy with sorrow as she spoke, the weight of her shame bearing down upon her. "You still pity me?" she asked, her eyes filled with a mix of despair and hope. "I'm afraid I have a deeper shame than mere harlotry," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was the head of the brothel, the madam. I taught all of the newest girls personally how to please a man. I made them debase themselves, taught them to be mere receptacles for lust. It was a task that I grew to detest, but once I was no longer training new girls, once I was no longer enabling the system, I found myself accused of all of my crimes at long last. I could have never left alive." Agatha pushed herself back up as she finished, no longer having even the energy to scream at the burning pain of the nails or the weight that hung on them.

As Cara listened to Agatha's story, she couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy. She knew that it must be difficult to admit to such crimes, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness for the woman who was being punished so harshly. Despite this, she knew that Agatha was deserving of punishment, and she couldn't deny the fact that she was being punished in a way that fit her crimes.

Cara looked at Agatha with a mix of pity and understanding. "You know that you deserve this punishment, right?" she said gently.

Agatha nodded weakly. "I do. These nails are holding me exactly where I should have been for a long time. Every word listed on my titilus I have done a done a hundred times or more… each deserving of this punishment. But please, do not let my mistakes be yours. Live your life as a good and honest woman, and avoid the temptation of the criminal life at all costs."

"I will try. Thank you for your words of wisdom. I must go now, to visit the oracles, but I will try to visit you again before you pass." Cara replied

"I appreciate that, my dear. But do not be surprised if I am gone when you return.” Agatha said weakly, “The crosses are never empty for long."

***

 

[crumera]

Poor Agatha.. She will prolly die before Cara returns I can feel it
Will Cara get a similiar traumatic experience soon?
Agatha's blessing a curse in disguise?

 

[Barbaria1]

The dialogue and scene has a cinematic quality to it, IMO. It’s vividly done. The kind of scene that lingers in the mind and imagination.

Some very fine and compelling writing here.

 

[bobinder]

Finishing her braid, Cara tied it off with that same black elastic

I have a feeling that something as simple as a modern, black, elastic hair tie will cause problems for Cara - unless of course, such elastic is known in ancient Antioch?

This is an intriguing exploration of the crux fascination, plotted in considerable detail, and developing with a mysterious atmosphere.
Nice work, Em - I look forward to the continuation.

 

[phlebas]

She wondered what it would be like to see her struggling and writhing on the cross. She was hardly yet a woman. Would she cry out in pain? Would she beg for mercy? Would she succumb to the pleasure of her own suffering? As she walked away from the soldiers, Cara also couldn't shake the image of the redheaded thief hanging on the cross, and the thought of it sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn't wait to see it for herself, but first there was another crucifixion that required her study.

The thought of it sends a shiver down our spines as well.

This story has developed quite a way before I even saw it! Let's see, time travel, tick, female crux, tick, protagonist who wished to study crucifxion and is strangely drawn to it, tick tick. This should be good, and with plenty of hair and nails.

 

[prtn]

Right now I've just read till "The Soldiers" chapter. It is magnificantly protrait, you can almost feel the true fears Cara is feeling.

The anticipantion is building up and up. I think the soldiers chapter is the chapter that makes this story a true must read.

Great setup, great narrrative, great selections of words, this one is gonna be epic I think.

 

[Loxuru]

Great dialogue!
I hope, Cara has some concealed recording device with her, since her conversation with the crucified Agnatha provides excellent study material.

 

[thehangingtree]

Cara looked at Agatha with a mix of pity and understanding. "You know that you deserve this punishment, right?" she said gently.

Agatha nodded weakly. "I do. These nails are holding me exactly where I should have been for a long time. Every word listed on my titilus I have done a done a hundred times or more… each deserving of this punishment. But please, do not let my mistakes be yours. Live your life as a good and honest woman, and avoid the temptation of the criminal life at all costs."

"I will try. Thank you for your words of wisdom. I must go now, to visit the oracles, but I will try to visit you again before you pass." Cara replied

"I appreciate that, my dear. But do not be surprised if I am gone when you return.” Agatha said weakly, “The crosses are never empty for long."

***

A powerful pair of entries, far better than Tree has ever written. As Agatha asks does Cara know anything about the cross beyond what she has heard? Will she learn and remember it was her quest?

Excellent story, Mp5...

 

[Wragg]

This is brilliantly and imaginatively written, @mp5stab! I thought, 'it's Sunday, I must catch up on Em's story. What a treat! I shan't be waiting till next Sunday!"

 

[mp5stab]

Well, it looks like that was a popular series of chapters. You guys seem to like crux! I'll be sure to add more of it.

And yes, @Loxuru Cara's neural lace allows for her memories to be diffused into video, so there is a recording of everything she did... but only if she survives to make it back to her time. Should I make that more clear? great comments everyone, you guys really seem to be getting into what I'm writing down. For this next part, I will be flashing forward. Cara first arrived on Monday, and we will be jumping to the part of the story I'm sure you crave the most. Her cross.

But, dear readers, rest assured that her predicament will not go unexplained! There are still plenty of questions to be answered, details to explore, and plots to unravel. This story will branch into two parts, with one branch telling in my own style of her painful crucifixion; and the other, told in flashback, of her actions leading up to that torture and execution.

And now that I have all of your good will, it's time for depraved hair fetish stuff!!