Victim's Eye View

[Deleted member jedakk]

And a transparent version from phlebas, followed by myself in Sabina's position:

Really good job putting your body in Sabina's position! Can you imagine how vulnerable you would be in her place, already in unimaginable agony as you hang by your nailed wrists? Your body no longer belongs to you; it is the property of the executioner. These men, who will drive big iron nails through your feet, can do whatever they want to you. You are completely, absolutely helpless.

 

[thehangingtree]

Really good job putting your body in Sabina's position! Can you imagine how vulnerable you would be in her place, already in unimaginable agony as you hang by your nailed wrists? Your body no longer belongs to you; it is the property of the executioner. These men, who will drive big iron nails through your feet, can do whatever they want to you. You are completely, absolutely helpless.

But she is beautiful to watch in her agony...

 

[Deleted member jedakk]

Julia Lepida continues to narrate:

The agony of the nails in the girl's wrists forced her to struggle in search of some relief. She would get the soles of her feet against the upright, arching her body and thrusting her pelvis forward shamelessly toward the crowd, then her sweaty feet would slip and she would flail her legs again, still in a desperate search for any purchase at all that might give her some brief relief from the agony in her wrists.​

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Her wild screams had died down to deep groans of agony as her fatigue increased. I heard some of the others watching say that "her pain is dying down now," or she was "getting used to the pain." But I was sure that neither of those things was true. It was not that the pain was becoming less; on the contrary, it was getting steadily worse.​

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She still needed to scream. It was just that the girl no longer had the strength to scream.​

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The beam was still cockeyed, tilted the other way now. At least it was secured, loosely hanging on the tenon at the top of the post, so there was no longer any danger of the girl pulling it off, falling, and receiving the blessing of a quick death. But I never had expected that to happen. No, it would be her lot to suffer a long and agonizing punishment.​

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With the beam lower, its ends were now within easy reach of the two Nubians. Each took hold of his end and together they got it straight and level, then rocked it back and forth to pull it down and close the parts of the joint together, each of them putting his weight on it in turn. The rough wood creaked as it slipped lower.​

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The naked slave thrust her hips forward toward the crowd, arching her body in agony, screaming and groaning helplessly as the nails jerked in her wounds in response to each sudden shift of the timber. The two Nubians continued their work, indifferent to the excruciating torture their efforts were causing her.​

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With the beam now horizontal and solidly in place, what had been a separate beam and post were now joined to become a cross, and the girl’s naked body was displayed on it. Her struggles as she died over the coming hours and days would only work the joint down tighter.​

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I heard murmurs among the onlookers that the slave “was being punished as she deserved,” and the executioners were doing good work. For my own part, I was relieved that, so far, I had managed to do what was expected of me as a Roman domina. I just wanted it to be over.​

Here is the scene:



Some near victim's eye views:

 

[thehangingtree]

Julia Lepida continues to narrate:

​

​

I heard murmurs among the onlookers that the slave “was being punished as she deserved,” and the executioners were doing good work. For my own part, I was relieved that, so far, I had managed to do what was expected of me as a Roman domina. I just wanted it to be over.​

Julia seems pleased with her charade. No one is aware of Sabina's real status... including Sabina!

 

[Deleted member jedakk]

Julia seems pleased with her charade. No one is aware of Sabina's real status... including Sabina!

Julia Lepida is on the ragged edge, trying to play her role and not screw it up. You may have noticed how she never calls her slave "Sabina." After I had written this story, I did a search on it for "Sabina" and checked that it didn't appear in any of the sections where Julia Lepida was the narrator. Writing a story with a surprise ending like this one is a challenge, making sure you don't mess up and give it away to the readers somehow.

 

[JustJJ]

Really good job putting your body in Sabina's position! Can you imagine how vulnerable you would be in her place, already in unimaginable agony as you hang by your nailed wrists? Your body no longer belongs to you; it is the property of the executioner. These men, who will drive big iron nails through your feet, can do whatever they want to you. You are completely, absolutely helpless.

It was the work of @phlebas to give full credit!

My body was the property of the executioner when I was first arrested and bound and sentenced, the whip reinforced this before I even felt the tip of the nails. The cruelty of it is that I will have given up hope long before this, and yet the torture will continue until I am no longer living...

Here are some more for anyone who wants to enhance them with blood, welts, nails, or crosses. Selfies from the perspective of hanging on a cross are certainly interesting.

Would anyone like to crucify me? I might need to get a camera better than my phone, something I don't have to hold while I pose.

 

[Crucified Life]

It was the work of @phlebas to give full credit!

My body was the property of the executioner when I was first arrested and bound and sentenced, the whip reinforced this before I even felt the tip of the nails. The cruelty of it is that I will have given up hope long before this, and yet the torture will continue until I am no longer living...

Here are some more for anyone who wants to enhance them with blood, welts, nails, or crosses. Selfies from the perspective of hanging on a cross are certainly interesting.

Would anyone like to crucify me? I might need to get a camera better than my phone, something I don't have to hold while I pose.

These wonderful photos really show the female contours and experience, visual experience anyway, of a woman who is undergoing the ordeal of her crucifixion. Her naked body secured (nailed probably) to the cross, she looks left and right, and down, taking in her torturous predicament, knowing the cross will eventually claim her, but she wants to at least be aware of her situation and control what she can, and make the most of her final phase of life being her torturous drawn out execution and humiliation to at least use what limited movement, energy and clarity she has left to make her agony more bearable and maintain some dignity. Despite in her own personal bubble of taut parched exposed sweaty body, involuntary moaning, tears, blood, painful whip marks, crown of thorns and urination, and after all this including her crucifixion, she is still a woman.

 

[JustJJ]

I've purchased some camera equipment, along with a wig with long dark brown hair and bangs, so I can pose for a full body nude photoshoot. Here are my selfies with a victim's eye view. Would anyone like to edit these images so it appears that I am hanging from a cross? Feel free to add welts, blood, nails...

 

[Deleted member jedakk]

Julia Lepida continues to narrate Sabina's crucifixion:

Meanwhile, her executioner and helpers were standing around behind the cross talking and laughing about women, the weather, or whatever else men talk about, waiting for her to exhaust herself in struggling so she would be more compliant when they hammered the cornu into place and bound her feet for nailing. This was part of her torture, part of this public display of harsh justice for the crowd. From time to time, the executioner would glance at her, appraising her condition.​

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Blood had oozed and trickled down her forearms halfway to her elbows. Before, there was only the barest seeping, but her hanging and struggling for so long had stretched the wounds and made them gap open just a little below the nails. That always happened in a crucifixion, but it clotted and stopped quickly and there was never enough blood to hasten death.​

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I watched the slave’s frenzied struggles in fascination. Others chatted and laughed festively among themselves, entertained by the twisting and writhing of the naked girl’s gleaming, sweaty body and the sound of her tortured screams.​

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I have heard of times when the blinding agony of hanging by the wrists was so horribly excruciating that the victims themselves, in utter desperation, would scream at the executioner, pleading with him to get on with their execution. They would beg him to nail their feet to the cross, driven to pay that price if it meant even the barest hope of relief from the throbbing agony in their wrists.​

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I could not help but wonder if, with all this agony she was suffering from the nails in her wrists, could the slave girl bring herself to scream at the executioners to drive those nails through her feet? Could it be so agonizing that she would wish to endure even more agony if it might offer some chance of relief from what she was suffering at this moment?​

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Yes, I thought, cringing at another desperate scream, she might.​

Here is the scene:



And here are some near victim's eye views:

 

[thehangingtree]

Julia Lepida continues to narrate Sabina's crucifixion:

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I have heard of times when the blinding agony of hanging by the wrists was so horribly excruciating that the victims themselves, in utter desperation, would scream at the executioner, pleading with him to get on with their execution. They would beg him to nail their feet to the cross, driven to pay that price if it meant even the barest hope of relief from the throbbing agony in their wrists.​

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I could not help but wonder if, with all this agony she was suffering from the nails in her wrists, could the slave girl bring herself to scream at the executioners to drive those nails through her feet? Could it be so agonizing that she would wish to endure even more agony if it might offer some chance of relief from what she was suffering at this moment?​

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Yes, I thought, cringing at another desperate scream, she might.​

View attachment 1147273

Julia wonders if Sabina will beg for the nails to be driven into her feet. It matters not. She is condemned to the cross, and the crowd demands she is securely nailed!!!

 

[Deleted member jedakk]

Julia Lepida narrates:

As time dragged on, her useless struggles and her screams of agony gradually became weaker, until all she could do was moan with each breath, conquered by exhaustion. Her tortured body hung almost motionless, with only token efforts of her legs, toes searching for the ground a few feet away. Her abdomen pulsed as she drew in quick, shallow breaths and forced them out.​

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“Please…” I heard the girl utter, her voice weak and hoarse from screaming. Was she pleading for mercy again, or begging them to get on with her crucifixion? I never found out.​

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I watched her head loll over against her left arm, eyelids fluttering, her eyes rolling up in her head. She was fainting, unbearable agony overwhelming her.​

Some views of the scene:



Some near victim's eye views:

 

[Deleted member jedakk]

Julia Lepida continues to narrate:

Her eyelids closed, her head dropped forward with her chin against her chest, and she seemed to sag down further as the tense muscles of her tortured body relaxed. She was unconscious, fainted. I let out the breath I’d been holding and felt the tension flow out of my own body. It was the first moment since her execution began that the desperate sounds of her suffering and struggling had stopped. There were only the anguished groans of the dying murderer hanging crucified on the cross next to hers.​

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The girl hung there inert, time dragging on, her abdomen pulsing as she continued to draw in short, choppy breaths and push them out with effort. Even unconscious, her naked body twitched in tiny spasms from time to time.​

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Might she die now and end this? Could the agony perhaps stop her heart? I wondered hopefully, watching her labored breathing. It happened sometimes, those with weak hearts, cheating the cross. It would be so much easier both for her and for me.​

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And it would be so much easier for the executioners to finish her crucifixion now when she would offer no resistance. But tradition dictated that they wait until she was conscious and able to feel and experience what would be done to her.​

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Some in the crowd got into conversations about this and that, the ordinary events of life that, for them, would go on. None of them drifted away. They all wanted to see the completion of the slave’s crucifixion, to listen to her scream and watch her struggles as those big iron nails were driven through each of her feet, one after the other.​

Here is the scene:



Here are some victim's eye views:

 

[Deleted member jedakk]

Julia Lepida continues to narrate:

After what seemed a very long time, her legs quivered and began to move. She moaned as feeling returned and she realized where she was. She lifted her head, dazed with agony, and gave a loud groan through gritted teeth. It was time to continue her execution.​

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The executioner and his helpers sidled around beside the cross, watching her, in no hurry, getting ready for the next parts of her punishment.​

The carnifex, Quintus Caelius Balbus also describes the action from his point of view:

I watched as the slave worked her feet up close underneath her ass and tried to push herself up. She only succeeded in arching her body outward toward the crowd as if she was trying to present them with a closer look at her cunnus. Some motherless maggots had bright things to say about that and there was a lot of laughter.​

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She continued trying to push upwards, but suddenly her feet slipped and she dropped heavily, tits bouncing and more agonized screaming. Then the screaming stopped, her eyes rolled back and her head fell forward on her chest, her body going limp in a faint.​

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"Damned inconsiderate of her to faint on us right now," I allowed, studying her pulsing abdomen. "She could have waited and done that on her own time!"​

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“Quintus Caelius, shouldn’t they nail her feet now?” Julia Lepida asked me.​

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“Not yet. She’ll be back with us in a moment. She’ll be ready then and we’ll nail her feet,” I answered. “Don’t worry, that girl still has at least three days in her, maybe four. She doesn’t know what pain is yet. Give those nails some time to twist around and work back and forth in those wounds for a few hours, then she’ll know.”​

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We waited. I heard some of the crowd exchanging bets as to how long this slave girl would be unconscious. Romans will bet on anything!​

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“Gundericus, this happens. It’s normal,” I said. “They come back to us in a few moments if their hearts don’t give out. Now if she stops breathing, that’s different. Best thing to do is lift her up and ram that cornu up her cunnus. She won’t slip off, and she’ll breathe whether she wants to or not.​

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“Sometimes they faint because of the pain, but most of the time, it's panic. They breathe so fast and hard it puts them out. I see them do it almost every time.​

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“After a few hours, when they're tired and hanging by their wrists, they can't suck in a full breath. It makes them feel like they're being smothered or strangled, so they panic and try to get more breath. Then they get too much and that makes them faint. Their body knows how much air it needs, and once they faint, their breathing slows down to normal. It’s always like this.​

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“So, nailing the feet? How to tell the best place for the feet?”​

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“Up close to her ass, but not so high that she can rest her ass on her heels, no punishment in that. Best is with her lower legs square with the cross. The only thing we let them rest their bare asses on is one of those narrow-edged sediles or the point of a cornu, like this one gets. Fancier, more painful things sometimes, if I feel like it or some dominus asks.​

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“But when she’s down, you want her to hang with all of her weight on her wrists. As she starts to tire, she'll hang longer, it will get harder and harder for her to breathe, and finally she'll begin to feel like she can't get enough air. That will keep her moving and slowly using up her strength. It shows off her cunnus, too, more humiliating that way. The best way to find the position for the feet is with her hanging free by the wrists, so her body is nicely stretched out and you can see where her ass comes to.”​

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Just then the slave girl moaned and stirred as she began to awake and remember where she was. She tilted her head back and stared upward at the nails in her wrists, groaning. Her legs began to flail weakly. She looked around, dazed, saw her Domina and asked for mercy. Julia Lepida actually smiled at her as she told her no.​

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I nodded to Antius. Time to nail her feet.​

Sabina also narrates what it is like to wake up on the cross:

I awoke gradually, my head spinning, not knowing what happened or where I was. And then, oh gods, the agony! I groaned, gritted my teeth, opened my eyes, looked up and with horror, saw the nails protruding from my wrists, the ooze of blood around them and the trickle down my forearms. I looked down, saw my bare breasts, uncovered legs below, the livid marks where the whip had wrapped around and stung my breasts, my stomach, my hips. I saw no sign of a loincloth, felt nothing between my legs but the air on my bare skin. Rough wood scraped the welts on my bare buttocks.​

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I’m naked! I thought. I’m hanging here naked, with all these people staring at me. I remember now, they took away my loincloth before… before they started driving the nails.​

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This can’t be real! This is a nightmare! I’m not supposed to be here!​

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I blinked, shook my head, struggled to wake up, trying to grope my way out of it. This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be! My mind wouldn’t work, couldn’t process this.​

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I can’t wake up! Why can’t I wake up?​

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And I panicked as I finally understood that yes, this horror is real.​

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I’m crucified. ​

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Through the fog of pain, my head swimming, I moaned and tried to get the soles of my bare feet against the cross to hold myself up, but I was so tired, my strength used up. Then it dawned on me.​

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Hanging by two nails… Four nails always, always, oh gods! Always used when they crucify a slave. My feet! They aren’t nailed to the cross! ​

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They haven’t finished crucifying me! Oh gods, oh no, please no! Two more… nails! They’re going to nail my feet… nail my feet to the cross! I can’t bear this, can’t bear that too!​

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With sweat stinging my eyes, I made out the faces of the crowd, laughing, jeering and staring at me. I looked at them in wonder. What had I done to deserve their ridicule? My Domina was to my right, watching me, expressionless.​

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“D-Domina,” I rasped, “please stop them, my feet, two more nails, I can’t… oh gods, don’t let me die on this cross!”​

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She looked me in the eyes, smiled, and said, “You earned this when you struck me, slave. Your punishment hasn’t even begun.”​

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I was crushed. After all our years together, she was throwing me away as easily as if I were a toy she had grown tired of. That pain only added to the agony and humiliation I felt. My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes.​

Here is the scene:



Here are some victim's eye views:

 

[thehangingtree]

They haven’t finished crucifying me! Oh gods, oh no, please no! Two more… nails! They’re going to nail my feet… nail my feet to the cross! I can’t bear this, can’t bear that too!​

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With sweat stinging my eyes, I made out the faces of the crowd, laughing, jeering and staring at me. I looked at them in wonder. What had I done to deserve their ridicule? My Domina was to my right, watching me, expressionless.​

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“D-Domina,” I rasped, “please stop them, my feet, two more nails, I can’t… oh gods, don’t let me die on this cross!”​

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She looked me in the eyes, smiled, and said, “You earned this when you struck me, slave. Your punishment hasn’t even begun.”​

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I was crushed. After all our years together, she was throwing me away as easily as if I were a toy she had grown tired of. That pain only added to the agony and humiliation I felt. My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes.​

'Damn guards must be paid by the hour' I think as I take a smoke. 'They don't seem to be in any rush to finish nailing her feet. I wonder what is going through her head.'



'They think this is a show! Don't they know they are killing me? Oh, Julia, stop them from doing this to me!' Sabina thinks between her howls of pain.

Good section, Jedekk!

 

[redish]

I awoke gradually, my head spinning, not knowing what happened or where I was. And then, oh gods, the agony! I groaned, gritted my teeth, opened my eyes, looked up and with horror, saw the nails protruding from my wrists, the ooze of blood around them and the trickle down my forearms. I looked down, saw my bare breasts, uncovered legs below, the livid marks where the whip had wrapped around and stung my breasts, my stomach, my hips. I saw no sign of a loincloth, felt nothing between my legs but the air on my bare skin. Rough wood scraped the welts on my bare buttocks.I’m naked! I thought. I’m hanging here naked, with all these people staring at me. I remember now, they took away my loincloth before… before they started driving the nails.This can’t be real! This is a nightmare! I’m not supposed to be here!

Those fragment is so strong, so realistic, that when I read it first time I can centraily felt like I was in Sabina skin! I felt her nakednes, fresh air between her legs, wounded skin at her back and ass checks. Add to this feelings pain in her wrist, and thinks that it is part of her capital punishment... and it'll be by three days! And it's half nails but not even half pain! And as Balbus mentioned pain in her wrist will get's worse by hour pass! Unimaginable! Poor Sabina.

And great three point's of view, great reflections of characters! Balbus as professionalist executioner, calm Julia Lepida and provides her that pain'll be worse. Balbus giving tips for Gundericius as a fresh executioners how it has to be to make Sabina punishment more spectacular, humiliate, longer and simply worse!
We have Julia Lepida which is simply watched after Balbus calm her down, and Sabina with all power of her sensations of her punishment!
And we have beauty pictures of Sabina strained, exhausted body and VICTIM'S EYE VIEW, with works great with thoughts of Sabina and onlookers!

Again good job Jedakk!

 

[Deleted member jedakk]

Sabina continues to narrate:

One of the Nubians – Hercules - moved to my left side, bent, slipped his left arm under my knees, and lifted my legs. I felt his right forearm sliding under my buttocks, his hand cupping my right butt cheek. He grinned at me as he gave it a squeeze. My body shuddered, stiffened, at the new stabs of pain that shot through my wrists as he swung me outward, away from the cross.​

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He was getting my body out of the way to make room for the executioner to work behind me. He was going to set in place the torture device they had chosen for me to try to rest on when I was exhausted and desperate for some relief from the agony of the nails. There was a socket chiseled out in the cross to hold it.​

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I know what they’re going to use on me. I saw it yesterday and I saw it lying on the ground, next to my cross, waiting to be used. Maybe they were just trying to frighten me! Surely my Domina wouldn’t have them use that on me! ​

Here is the scene:



Here are some victim's eye views:

 

[thehangingtree]

Sabina continues to narrate:

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I know what they’re going to use on me. I saw it yesterday and I saw it lying on the ground, next to my cross, waiting to be used. Maybe they were just trying to frighten me! Surely my Domina wouldn’t have them use that on me! ​

What? With an enthusiastic crowd watching Sabina thinks the crew is worried about her ass? She is lucky they don't drive the cornu right up her butt!!!

 

[Deleted member jedakk]

Antius the executioner shows Sabina her cornu before he sets it in place in its mortise hole in the cross. She will never see it again, but she will know it is there, and she will feel it many times over the coming days. It is sexual torture, painful and humiliating.

Sabina narrates:

And then Antius was there with his hammer, and to my horror, I recognized the raw wood in his other hand as the freshly carved cornu I had so stupidly made Ajax show me. Was it only yesterday?​

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I heard myself sob, “Oh no, not that, please, no, don’t…”​

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Through the agony, I heard Ajax growl, “Your throne, princess, made just to fit your cute little ass. Yesterday you just had to see it, and today you’ll get to feel it. Up your ass or stuck up inside that tight pink cunnus of yours, you get to choose!” Hercules chuckled at that along with others that heard it. “Either way, whichever hole you pick,” Ajax continued, “before long you’ll be ready to spread your legs for it. Gonna be the hardest cock you ever had in you!” He laughed. “Shame it’ll be the last one, too!”​

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“Yeah, it’ll never go soft and floppy, but you’ll sure wish it would!” A woman in the crowd shouted, and everyone laughed at me, laughed at my agony, my humiliation, my helplessness.​

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That… that wooden horn is going to go up inside of me! I thought, shuddering. There’s no escape! Why did my Domina have them use this on me? Wouldn’t a sedile have been cruel enough?​

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I knew nothing I could do would move it or keep its point from penetrating deep inside of me. I had seen it used on other girls, the horror, shame and agony on their faces. Ever since yesterday when Ajax taunted me with the cornu that my Domina had added to my punishment it had never left my mind. The scenario had played itself out over and over in the dark of my cell, a nightmare that never ended:​

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I would be so tired and the agony in my nailed feet so bad that I could barely hold myself up. I wouldn’t even know that I was slipping lower on the cross until I felt that hard point touch me there, on the lips of my porcella, or in my cleft somewhere. Probing insistently, like a man’s cock, searching blindly for the entrance to the depths of my body.​

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How many times before I surrender to it? Let it into me? Ten times, twenty maybe? I wondered, desperately thinking I could last a long time before I’d give in. Be heroic and never let it violate me? All of that was last night in my dark cell.​

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On the Sessorium, hanging naked in the sun by my throbbing nailed wrists, I know better: No. No, it will be less than that. No one ever lasted that long before the agony broke their will. This agony I feel right now… and then my feet… no one can begin to imagine what this is like, how bad this is. No, it won’t take me long before anything is better, no matter how horrible.​

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Back to last night in my cell: I would have already felt that point enough to know it well, even though I would never see it. And the horror of having it penetrate me would be too much, worse than my agony and exhaustion. All those times, I would have pushed my hips forward enough to drop past it, feel it rasp spitefully along the crack of my buttocks as if in frustration because I had escaped it again. My arms would go taut and I would settle to hang by my wrists again.​

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But the time would come. It always did, I’d seen it before, enough to know. And I knew my limit might come early.​

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When someone is crucified, dying begins as soon as they’re nailed to the cross, and dying goes on moment by moment, hour by hour, day by day, their strength slowly sapped by the cross until death finally comes. Two days is a quick death on the cross. Three or four is usual and expected. Any more, and they have to be helped along by breaking their legs, or worse, roasting alive over a slow fire, a large, hot fire being considered too merciful. The price of justice must be paid.​

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Once I watched a girl dying slowly on the cross with only a cornu to rest on. She avoided it for a long time, maybe a dozen times she raised herself up, then slipped back down to hang by her wrists. When she finally broke, it was when she had died enough that her agony had finally driven her to give up.​

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I’d heard someone in the laughing crowds say about some slave girl, “she decided to sacrifice her asshole or her cunnus to the horn so she could take herself a little rest.” Money would change hands; there were bets on which hole she would choose, how many times she would “get a feel of its point” before she would surrender to it.​

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With a man, his cock and balls hid what was happening. But with a girl, nothing is hidden. Everyone could clearly see between a girl’s legs, see her body trembling with exhaustion when time ran out, probing her soft flesh with the point of the horn to find the opening she meant to offer as sacrifice, hips swiveling urgently to get it lined up just as she would if she were about to take a hard cock into her. A look of relief would stupidly pass over her face when she succeeded in getting the point into the entrance of her hole. But that was immediately replaced by fear, resignation and gritted teeth as she let herself slip lower, ever so slowly letting the horn enter her more deeply.​

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Often she would change her mind, try to rise, get off of it. She might, but more often than not, her quivering, straining body no longer had the strength left. The crowd would always laugh at her look of wide-eyed horror when she found that she was helpless to stop herself slipping down onto the hard shaft. She would try to spread her legs, open herself to it to make its entrance easier. They would laugh at her screams when she felt the horn widening and stretching the opening of her vagina or rectum painfully with no idea how much worse that might get.​

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In my nightmares, her face was replaced with mine, her screams became mine.​

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Soon it would be me that the crowd would be laughing at.​

​

Here is the scene:



An executioner's eye view:



Some victim's eye views:

 

[Deleted member jedakk]

Antius sets Sabina's cornu in the triangular hole chiseled out for it in the cross, pounding a wedge in underneath to fix it in place so it will not loosen during the coming days as Sabina struggles on it. Ajax begins tying Sabina's ankles together, preparing her feet for nailing.

Sabina narrates:

Ajax passed a loop of rope around my right ankle and cinched it tight, beginning preparations to nail my feet. I instinctively tried to keep the other ankle away from him, pulling my left leg out to the side opposite him, twisting it away. I had the totally irrational thought that I shouldn’t do that, shouldn’t spread my legs and expose my porcella to the leering crowd even more than it already was.​

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Gods! What does that matter now? I thought. They’d just seen me writhing naked on the ground, my legs held wide apart by Ajax while they drove nails through my wrists. All my life I’d been told that we women were supposed to guard our modesty. All of that was gone now. Here, at the end of my life, the priorities had changed.​

Here is the scene:




And some near victiim's eye views:

 

[Deleted member jedakk]

Sabina watches helplessly as Hercules gropes her pussy, then pushes a finger into her. The crowd continues to enjoy her humiliation and misery.

Sabina narrates:

Hercules adjusted his stance, then his right hand, which had been gripping my buttocks, moved and slid up between my wide-spread legs from behind and took hold of my porcella. I jerked my head down to look, saw only his fingertips curling up around my abdomen from below. I let out a sigh. He had me, and there was nothing I could do about it.​

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He gave my porcella a hard squeeze, then I felt one of his fingertips curl around, sliding down the length of my cleft, probing and feeling as it went until it came to the deeper place at the entrance to my vagina. I knew what was coming.​

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My buttocks clenched instinctively, protectively. Uselessly. I gasped, then let my breath out in a moan, helpless, straining as if there were anything I could do to keep him out of me.​

​

I felt his rough, dry fingertip move deeper, find my warm wetness, and push its way into me, making me squirm my hips, try to push back. “Nooo, don’t oh please!” I moaned, and everyone watching saw what he was doing to me, heard my tone of fear and defeat, saw me staring wide-eyed down at my crotch, and laughed. I was so humiliated!​

​

I expected something like this, knew I’d be violated somehow, before… I thought. They can do anything they want to me. My body belongs to them, now, not to me. ​

​

“Io, Ajax, this girl’s cunnus is tight as a gnat’s ass! And that’s just on my finger! Whoo! Feel her squirm! Stick your cock in this and she’d milk it like a cow’s teat!” Hercules laughed.​

​

Ajax joined in laughing. “What a shame Balbus wouldn’t let us do her last night! Won’t get a chance now. Check her asshole, bet it’s clenched up even tighter!”​

Here's the scene:



And some near victim's eye views: