Chapter 18 is titled "Crucifixion, First Hour." Ellie is now crucified, but the federal crucifixion inspector has to check to be sure everything was properly done. Also an EMT has to hook up her IV. She gets a message from Jeremy. In the meantime, Ellie struggles in agony but is only beginning to learn what it means to be crucified.
Chapter 18: Crucifixion, First Hour
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! Uhhhhhh! Uhhhhhh! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!” Ellie’s screams continued as her body was driven to writhe and struggle frantically in a desperate search for some relief from the agony. She would empty her lungs in a mindless scream, push out one or two quick groans as she caught her breath, then there would be another lung-emptying scream.
Oh my God oh my God oh my God I can’t… what can I do have to find a way out must be something I can do the pain oh God everything hurts! Ellie’s desperate, tangled thoughts, overwhelmed by her anguish, ran wild.
Her wrists, her feet, the nails pushed, pulled and twisted inside the wounds, crushing raw flesh and living nerves between iron and bone. There was no way to bear the incredible unrelenting pain, neither was there any way to escape from it.
Ellie’s brain could not cope with the flood of clamoring, intense pain signals that engulfed it. Her body reacted to it on a primitive level, writhing, twisting and straining as the pain drove it until exhausted muscles locked in vise-like spasms.
From time to time Ellie fainted, escaping for a few minutes into unconsciousness. When awareness returned, the pain was there waiting, and her screaming struggle resumed.
“Let’s get all our toys picked up,” Bill said.
The few tools and folding table, a bucket and the post to which they kept their waiting subjects temporarily shackled while awaiting crucifixion were all they had left to put away. The cleanup and restoration contractor was waiting; John gave them the go-ahead to move in.
There wasn’t much for them to do either, a few divots where Ellie had kicked grass out of place. No trash. They dumped a bucket of water with enzyme solution on the spot where they were pretty sure Ellie’s urine had landed to prevent it making the grass go yellow. The guarding and maintenance contractor would have to do the same daily in front of the base of Ellie’s cross to control the smell.
John turned over custody of Ellie to the guarding and maintenance contractor, a crew from Execution Support Services, Inc. The first shift chief signed on the form to take possession of Ellie, tore off the green copy and handed it to John. There would always be two guards present and one EMT who would administer IV medications, check and record vitals.
By that time the federal crucifixion inspector had arrived to inspect Ellie’s crucifixion. He looked Ellie over, visually checked the positioning of her wrists and feet and construction of the cross.
“Hmm… her hanging position looks good,” the inspector said, “wrist spacing’s correct, feet level, centered on the post and side by side, yeah, lower legs are about perpendicular to the cross, check. She really looks good stretched out on a cross, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, beautiful girl! Good for business,” John said.
The inspector laughed, “She does have a great ass, nice tits. I suppose some of the prison guards got some use out of those!”
“Pretty sure, there were two of them waiting to mount her when we were finishing up measuring her!” John said.
“I’ll bet! Looks like the cross meets standards, let’s see, sign fixed securely, standard crucifixion nails… size double-zero! Damn, they don’t come any smaller! But yeah, says here she weighs a hundred and nine pounds.”
“That was right after sentencing,” John said, “she’d be a pound or two less now. They emptied her out the past few days in prison.”
“Nail size tables in the GACP only go down to a hundred pounds! She’s right down there close to the bottom!”
“OHHHHH!!” Ellie groaned, just waking up from a faint into a nightmare.
What where am I no no no not real can’t be… huh?
“What do you think, Ellie? They do a good job crucifying you?” The inspector asked her.
“Huh? AHHHHHHHH!! Wh-wha? Please don’t hurt m-me!” Ellie stammered through gritted teeth. The pain… everywhere!
“Not going to touch you! I just wondered if you thought John did a good job nailing you to that cross! You feel secure, not going to come loose and fall off?”
“Oh, f-fuck you! AHHHHHHH!! Oh God! Oh please… ohhhh!”
“Another satisfied customer, John! Don’t see many of these Class 3 sediles!” He said. “Once in a while one of those nutcrackers for some guy the judge especially didn’t like, but for a woman? Must be a truly heinous criminal to be condemned to that!”
“I think she pissed off the judge, got held in contempt.” John said.
“Oh! Uh-huh, I see it here, Judge Schaefer, the Nailing Judge! He’s been good for the lumber business hereabouts.” The inspector said. “I wonder if she understands yet how much she’s going to come to regret that career move.”
“I doubt it. She will.”
The inspector walked around the cross, grabbed the sedile and shook it to see that it was solid.
“Hey, she’s got a ring! Is that in her clit or her hood?” The inspector asked, bemused.
“It’s in her clit!” John said. “She’s got a big clit!”
“Bet that’s gonna cost her some misery! I know you’ve got plans for it, huh?”
“Yep! I’ll stretch it, shock it, mash it, give it a few strokes with the whip. Do stuff to it the crowd will like. It’ll be well-used, a nice shade of purple and probably swollen twice its size by the end,” John said. “Got a story about that ring I’ll tell you when you get through.”
“Well, it all looks good!” The inspector said. “Good job on the crucifixion work. I’m certifying she’s “Fairly Crucified” per federal guidelines at…” he looked at his watch, “1:04 p.m. on May 3. Have a good day, everybody! You too, Ellie!”
“Eat shit and die!” Ellie replied angrily. “AHHHHHH!! Ohhhh! Shit!”
“So first time I get a look at her, she’s got a paperclip hanging in that ring,” John said to the inspector, both of them laughing as they walked away.
The EMT with the G&M contractor opened a cover on the back of the post, about a foot lower than Ellie’s feet. He pulled out a length of coiled plastic surgical tubing from within, pulled up an app on his phone and touched an icon which changed from red to green.
He watched the tube, could see fluid advancing steadily up it until it dripped out the end. It was a mixture of normal saline, glucose and other nutrients Ellie would receive continuously through her PICC line. They were fed from a reservoir and a positive displacement pump in a covered box set in the ground just back of the base of the cross, through a tube that ran up the inside of the post. The pump delivered a constant flow rate, unaffected by Ellie’s struggling or elevation.
The EMT slipped the tubing into a notch in the compartment and closed the cover, making sure it did not compress the tubing. He pulled the end of the coiled tube around the right side of the post and attached it to the PICC line in Ellie’s calf, making sure it was clear of anything it could perhaps catch on, foul itself and pull loose.
“W-what?” Ellie stammered.
He looked up, “Just connecting you up. Fluids and nutrients, keep you hydrated and give you enough energy to keep going like the Energizer bunny. Lactic acid reducer for quick muscle recovery.”
“Please – OWWWOO! Oh my G-god… AAAAAHH! G-give me s-something for this p-pain?”
“Nope! Sorry, pain is part of your punishment. No relief from that. Going to give you a military-grade stimulant and sensory enhancement, too. That’ll keep you wide awake 24/7 for the next five days and aware of everything, too. Actually make your suffering worse, if that’s possible. Like that old saying, don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time!”
He unzipped a pocket in his fatigue shirt – he wore a red shirt with an EMT patch along with his black fatigue pants – he took out a syringe, pulled off the cap and injected it into her IV.
“That’s your stim,” he said, pulled out a second one, injected it and said, “and that’s your sensory enhancement. Half-life is twelve hours. You ought to start feeling it in a few minutes.”
He came around to the front of the cross, took out his phone. He clipped a pulse oximeter on one of her toes, let an app on his phone grab the data and upload it to the tracking database. He would check that every hour and record it. Each shift would be able to access it.
“Well, folks, here we are back with Ellie!” Ken McDonald said cheerfully to the camera in front of Ellie’s cross. Turning to Ellie, now hanging by her wrists, he asked, “So, Ellie, how are you feeling now?”
“F-fuck you – UNH! Shit! You s-son of a bitch!”
“Ellie doesn’t have a really big vocabulary, but she uses it a lot! So Ellie, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain now?”
“About a hundred and f-five! OWW! OHHH!” She screamed and groaned as a particularly sharp pain hit her, her body twisting, knees apart, shifting side to side, searching for some escape from her torment.
“So Ellie, will you be glad when this is all over?”
“Oh G-god, yes! Yes!”
“If it were possible, would you like for it to be over today?”
“Yes, n-now!, Now!”
“So you want to die now? Today?”
Even overwhelmed by agony, Ellie’s eyes grew wide and fearful as she thought about that.
“Uh… I… N-no! Oh no, no I-I don’t want to d-die! Please, I-I’m so scared!”
“But Ellie! You realize, don’t you, the only way you can escape your agony is to die?”
“B-but…”
“And you’re dying, just a little at a time, right now? You’re being executed, you’re dying on a cross right now!”
“I-no, I’m afraid! M-maybe something… Unh! OWWW! OHHH! S-somebody could… still s-save me? I’m… Oh my God oh please please… not supposed t-to be here! All I did was hand out l-leaflets! How can they k-kill me, c-crucify me for that? They h-have to… realize it w-was a mistake!”
“Now Ellie, you know better than that, don’t you! Those leaflets were treasonous, and you knew that! Everybody in your group swore to die for the cause. Well, now you’re getting to do what you promised! Just not as easy as you thought, huh?”
“OWWW! Shit shit SHIT! Fuck you!”
“There you have it folks, Ellie crucified and still begging to have sex with me! It’ll be interesting to see how long it will be until she starts begging to die! Sooner or later they all do – beg, sooner, that is, and die much later.”
Ellie was writhing, groaning, tossing her head, her muscles knotted in cramps and no way to relieve them. She would put a little weight on one foot or the other, try to take some off her wrists, but the sharp, excruciating pain in her feet when she did that would overwhelm her and force her to drop back down, like poking her feet with a red-hot iron. The early May sun was high and sweat was trickling down her body to drip steadily on the ground from the strain.
Oh God I can’t stand this agony, my wrists, shoulders, everything I just can’t stand it need to do something… HAVE to do something… No choice…
There was only one thing she could do. She took a deep breath, gritted her teeth, steeled herself against the agony she had to endure, and pushed down hard against the nails in her feet.
“AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!! Uhhhhhhh! AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!” Ellie screamed helplessly when the bolt of pain struck her feet. She tried to ease her body down gently, sobbing because she just couldn’t bear the pain, the nails pressing against the tops of the bloody wounds in her feet.
But I have to stand it, have to, there’s no other choice! Ellie dropped her head and sobbed helplessly.
She tried to ease her weight down against the nails, gradually increase the pressure. It was agony!
“AAHHHHHHHHH!!” Ellie let out her breath in a scream, kept pushing, her mind begging her to stop, struggling not to give in to it. She used her arms to pull against the nails in her wrists at the same time, straining hard,
“NNNNNNGGGGGGG!!” She groaned through gritted teeth as she pushed, pulled, struggled higher.
I have to get myself up faster or… my legs will be exhausted before I ever have the chance to rest my arms, shoulders, chest... Oh God, I have to push harder!
Get my ass back against the cross, now!
“AAHHHHHHH!!” Shit, that hurt! I feel the wood against my ass, oh, it’s so tender, oh, got to… relax my arms a second, just a second…
The change when she released the pressure on her wounded wrists sent a stab of agony through them that made her scream. Coupled with that was the sudden added pressure in her feet that made the pain there even more intense.
She tried to take the hammering pain in her feet as long as she could, gasping for breath, groaning with pain through her gritted teeth, eyes watering from the strain. On top of the searing pain in her feet, with her knees far from being straight, her legs were tiring quickly.
She only realized she was slipping when she felt the point of the rear horn digging into her butt cheek. She groaned, tried to rest on it, but its bruising pain was also more than she could bear. There were people in the crowd, leaning over the rope around her execution site, sloshing beer, laughing up at her and shouting “Take it up your ass! Up your ass! Come on!”
Ellie cursed them and spat down toward their laughing faces, the wads of spittle falling far short, only serving to entertain them more.
I can’t! I just can’t! That thing… those things inside me, no! Everyone watching me do it…
She had to push her hips forward, get off it, and quickly, before it slipped on her sweaty crotch, went into her… While she still had a choice.
Within two minutes she felt herself sinking steadily lower and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She groaned as she felt the nails in her wrists press against the wounds with her full weight, her arms, shoulders and chest stretching. And then the cramps in her exhausted legs started, and she was screaming, struggling, sobbing. Her vision darkened, lights twinkling as she fainted.
She came back disoriented, shaking her head, trying to wake up from this nightmare. She had no idea how much time had passed, seconds or hours.
She was not conscious of any trouble breathing, not yet. But that would become a factor within a couple of hours when her breathing muscles started to tire. Death on the cross did not happen until the last drop of the victim’s strength was drained, but the feeling of slow asphyxiation and panic that came with it would go on for days.
She could not stop moving, writhing because of the pain. The crowd, watching her obscene dance of agony on the big monitors, was enjoying the entertainment she provided enormously.
The EMT came back with a pump-up garden sprayer and sprayed her all over. She thought it was to cool her, but he said, “Sun screen. You’ll burn too quickly without it and lose too much fluid. Have to do this every hour during the day, you’ll sweat it off so fast. Close your eyes!”
He sprayed her face, then set the sprayer down and checked her PICC line. “Jeremy says hang on!”
“Huh?”
“Jeremy! He says hang on. After midnight, only our two guards and an EMT here, different one. Crowd will be light then. Don’t say anything, people, cameras, microphones all around! Someone might hear, might read your lips.”
She dropped her head, nodded understanding.
Oh thank God, thank God! Jeremy’s going to save me! Ellie thought. I just have to hang on, somehow…
“H-how long, OWWW! OHHH! OHH! Dammit! How l-long have I b-been here? UNH! On this c-cross?”
“Oh, let’s see…” The EMT looked at his watch. “Been about twenty minutes.”
“T-twenty m-minutes!” Ellie said, “That… That can’t b-be! It – it’s got t-to be longer!”
“Time passes fast when you’re having a good time, not so much when you’re not, does it! Maybe your problem is you’re bored!” He laughed. He had a plastic bucket and a stick that he swished around, pulled out and reached up to her face.
“Drink! You get fluid through your IV, but with all that screaming and groaning you need more.”
It was a sponge, dripping with water. Ellie put her lips to it and sucked, felt the liquid trickle down her dry throat. He dipped it in the bucket twice more and gave it to her, then walked away.
Ellie sobbed. The torment in her wrists was overwhelming, she just couldn’t bear it much longer, but she didn’t know whether she could endure the struggle to rise without fainting again.
What if I faint again, and I’m… ABOVE those horns… What choice do I have?
She dropped her head, sobbed helplessly. A few minutes ago, she was able to walk, run, use her hands. Now she was helpless and restricted to movement only within the range of these nails. Her wrists were pounding with agony. She felt like her shoulders were being pulled out of joint. She had to do it, trade the agony in her feet to try to relieve the agony above.
Ellie drew several deep breaths, tried to prepare herself. She had to do it all at the same time, push with her legs, pull with her arms – now.
She screamed as she moved up, took another breath and screamed again. She saw twinkling stars, fought to keep herself conscious, not faint. She pushed back, felt the points of the horns drag across her crotch, tried to at least keep them to one side, out of her cleft, away from her asshole if she should start to lose control, lose consciousness.
She took another breath, threw her head back and let out a long agonized scream as she straightened her legs as much as she could, stood trembling awkwardly on the nails in her feet, fought the burning agony there. Fresh blood oozed from the wounds below, dribbled down the tops of her feet and between her toes, trickled down the post from her soles.
She tried to relax her arms, get as much relief as she could in the short space of time she could manage to bear the torture. She let out a scream that ended in a series of sobs.
She shifted her hips a little, putting her weight more on the nail in one foot or the other. She had to take some of her weight by pulling with her arms, another movement in the dance of agony. She groaned in misery, grunted or shrieked as sudden sharp pains shocked her. Her legs quivered with growing exhaustion.
Before she realized it, her knees were projecting more in front of her, beginning to fail. She took a deep breath, gritted her teeth and scooted back up on the cross, rocking her hips side-to-side, one butt cheek at a time, trying to get as much time, as much benefit as she could out of all of the horrific struggle it had been to raise herself. The quivering in her legs got worse. She slipped suddenly, without warning, caught herself, screamed with the pain of the impact on her wounds, tried to push back up, but no longer had the strength in her legs.
Her strength was running out quickly. She knew she was going to pay the price when she exhausted her legs, the cramps would grip her muscles like a vise. She felt the rough wood grating against her welted ass, slick with sweat. In seconds, she felt the point of the rear horn between her legs. She immediately pushed her hips forward, avoided it as best she could but felt it drag across one butt cheek.
Her legs were so weak by then she could barely avoid the free-fall that would have impacted her wrists. Even so, when the pressure came back in those wounds it made her groan, then scream. And then the cramps racked her leg muscles and all she could do was writhe and scream helplessly.
The crowd, meanwhile, watched Ellie on the big monitors, commented to each other on her struggles, supposed she was probably in some considerable pain from what they could tell. Yes, must hurt a lot.
No more than she deserved, others said. This is what traitors got.
It makes total sense and adds a lot of sadism to the whole procedure... You already made me rethink the idea of nailing the wrists while the cross beam is not yet attached to the pole... dragging the cross beam (with the victim attached to it) along for a few feet would also add a great deal of torment indeed... What a source of inspiration 
