You’re next!
The hill was noisy.
The air was filled with screams, groans, pleading voices and the thud of hammers hitting iron nails. Gemina knelt in the dust, trying to look inconspicuous, trying to shut out the sounds of her friends’ slow death, trying to ignore the fact that soon, very soon, she would be screaming in agony like the others.
She already hurt all over. Her bound hands clutched at her breasts where the guards had amused themselves sticking burning slivers of wood into tender flesh. Breasts that had been crushed in a giant vice. She hurt from multiple rapes, she hurt from the torture they used to wring confessions from the slaves, and she hurt from the flogging she had been given prior to the agonising walk up the hill, dragging her cross. So much pain, and all for something they were all innocent of.
“You’re next!” His hands were stained with blood, in his hand was the heavy hammer that would drive the spikes through her flesh. She recognised him. He had raped her at least three times last night. Brutally! Intending to hurt her. “Please! I’ve been hurt so much. I didn’t do it, none of us did. It was the young master. He poisoned his father.” His boot swung, brutally impacting on her anus. “On your feet! I haven’t got all day! There’s another seven of you bitches to nail up before I can get some breakfast. Move!!”
She struggled to her feet, hampered by the rope connecting her ankles. Behind her, Anna screamed again! She had just been raised, and the shock was wearing off, the pain taking full effect. “Take me down! Oh gods! Take me down! I can’t take it! It hurts! I can’t take it! I’ll die!” The guard chuckled. “That’s the point, bitch! Remember! That’s why you’re here. To die! Slowly! Painfully! You’re here to die!”
Gemina stumbled behind the guard, Anna’s cries and pleas for mercy ringing in her ears. Her arms and wrists were so thin. How could she hang from them, for hours, days. Her wrists nailed to the wood of the cross, the spikes grating against the bones. Impossible!
He stopped to pick up four long, rusty spikes. She looked at them with horror. Those were for her. Those spikes were going to be hammered through her flesh, through her bones, Attaching her to the rough wood of the cross, for the rest of her life! Her bladder betrayed her, the warm liquid running down her thighs. She stumbled after him, numb with horror and fear!
Freya’s cross was just being raised. Gemina watched, petrified, as the cross became more vertical. Her friend’s slight body slid down the rough wood, the girl moaning as the wood scraped against her raw back. Her feet were neatly crossed, nailed by one spike. As her weight came onto the spikes through her wrists she started screaming! A high, unearthly keening of utter, indescribable agony. The screaming was cut off, briefly, as the cross was dropped into the hole prepared for it. The brutal jerk silenced the girl for a moment, just a moment, before she screeched out her new, unbearable agony! An agony she would have to bear, for many, many hours! For the rest of her life, in fact.
There were four men waiting at the empty cross. Big, strong, brutal men. “Lie down on the upright. Spread your arms along the patibulum.” The carnifex’s voice was soft, almost kindly. She did as she was told, whimpering softly as the rough wood scraped against her raw back. “Up a bit.” His boot against her bum shoved her a touch higher, painfully. “That’ll do. Hold her!”
Strong hands held her arms in place, others took her ankles, spreading them wide apart. “Nice cunt,” one of them said. “Do we get to fuck her?” The carnifex was kneeling next to her right hand, the point of the spike feeling for the right spot in her wrist. “Yep!” he grunted. “I’m going to nail her feet to the sides of the stipes, so her legs will be spread nice and wide to welcome us.” Gemina listened to this casual conversation with disbelief. These were the men who were going to kill her, yet it seemed that it was all a casual day’s work for them.
Her attention was caught by a soft cry and the squawk of a raven. She looked up to where a man and a woman were crucified together, on a double cross, her left wrist and his right wrist nailed with the same spike. The tituli told the story.
Adultura and Adulterer. Illicit lovers who had been caught in the act. The woman was shaking her head, weakly, in an attempt to frighten the raven. For a moment her eye met Gemina’s, exchanging a look of sympathy and pity. Just her left eye! Where the right eye should be was a bloody socket, where the raven had succeeded in his quest for a juicy morsel. Her lover was beyond caring. He had clearly been dead for some time. The ravens had been busy there. The carnifex caught the direction of her gaze. “Tough old bitch, that one. Nailed her up six days ago. She won’t see tonight’s sunset, that’s for sure. Her other eye will be gone soon.” He grunted with satisfaction as the tip of the spike found just the right spot. “Ready, boys?”
Gemina watched as the hammer moved, incredibly slowly, from its position above his shoulder. It seemed to take forever to make the journey to the broad head of the spike his left hand held against her wrist. She watched, fascinated, as if from a different place, as the heavy hammer struck the spike. She heard the metallic sound as though from a long distance. She watched as the tip of the iron spike disappeared into her slim wrist. It all seemed unreal, some kind of a dream.
PAIN!!!!!
Unbelievable, unbearable, shocking pain! Her scream echoed against the hills! Her body arched, legs thrashing wildly! One of the men holding a leg lost his grip! Her leg thrashed, he reeled back as her heel smashed into his face, blood spurting from his broken nose. The man who had been holding her left wrist grabbed wildly for the flailing leg. There was no need to hold that wrist, it was already firmly attached to the patibulum, the spike driven through the flesh and bone, deep into the wood.
“Idiot! Can’t you do anything right? I hope your fucking nose hurts!” The carnifex was not impressed. The hammer struck the spike twice more, gentle taps, driving it home so that the broad head rested neatly against her wrist. He was a perfectionist. He watched his helpers as they struggled to hold the girl. Slim she might be, but she was strong! She would last for days, perhaps as long as the one-eyed adulteress watching from her cross. “If you ladies have quite finished messing around, I would like to nail the right wrist,” he snarled. “If it’s not too much trouble, that is.” He knew that his spike had found exactly the right spot, crushing the median nerve against the bone, causing incredible pain. Her fingers turned into claws.
Gemina looked at her hand in disbelief. The pain was incredible, shooting up her arm into her shoulder. The slightest movement intensified it tenfold! What would it be like when she was hanging by her wrists? She couldn’t bear it!
The carnifex moved to her right wrist, the tip of the spike feeling for the sweet spot. She watched the intent expression on his face as he sought the spot. “Please?” She whimpered. “Please? No more. I can’t bear it. I’ll die.” He smiled at her, a kind, almost fatherly smile. “Of course you’ll die, girl. That’s the whole idea. But you won’t die for a long time. Three, four, maybe five days. Who knows, you might even last as long as that faithless bitch up there. You’ll be praying for death for a long time! Got it!” He smiled as he felt the spot he wanted for the spike. “Now, for fuck’s sake, hold on to her, you dozy bastards!”
This time the hammer seemed to move like lightning, the pain shooting up har arm, her world turning red with agony! Two more taps, and he was satisfied. “Now for her feet, then we can fuck her.”
They spread her knees wide, drawing up her feet until they were flat against the side of the stipes, her legs bent almost double. She could hear and feel the bones in her feet crunch and break under the onslaught of the spikes. Somewhere in her brain, there was the realisation that unbearable pain could become even worse, even more unbearable, and that despite the pain she was still alive, feeling every detail of her pain, hearing the echoes of her shrieks. All the while she was aware of the pitying gaze of the one-eyed woman on the cross.
She had no choice about being used. She was spread wide for them. Every touch, every thrust, sent new waves of pain through her, yet, somehow, there was also pleasure. She was swamped in sensation!
The one-eyed woman shook her head, the raven squawked, and flew off, a gobbet of her cheek in its bill. Her eye watched Gemina’s humiliation. She knew that it was only a matter of time before she would no longer see, before the raven gained its juicy titbit, before she would suffer in darkness. Soon, she knew, Gemina would be hanging opposite her, doing her slow dance, wanting to die, trying desperately to live.
“Right, you dozy bastards! Tuck your cocks away. Let’s get this one up. There are six more to do before we can go home!” They lifted the head of the cross. Gemina screamed shrilly as her weight shifted on the rough wood, her raw, scourged back scraping against the wood, her weight being borne by her mangled wrists. She had thought the pain unbearable before, now it was ten times worse, and getting even worse as the cross approached the vertical. Then the base of the cross dropped into the hole dug for it, dropped with a solid thud! White hot agony flooded her body at the sudden jerk! Her shrieks were wild, she danced helplessly on her cross. There was no escape! No way to ease the pain!
It was so difficult to breathe. She would suffocate. Her brain welcomed it; she would die soon. Her body had other ideas. Life! Life was precious! It would do anything to live! She gasped desperately, futilely.
The one-eyed woman looked at her, pityingly. “You have to stand up. Straighten your legs, take the strain off your shoulders and chest.” Gemina tried. She could feel the broken bones in her feet grating against the spikes. Her pain had a new centre. Her legs were strong, slowly, they straightened. She took deep gasps of air. “That is our dance! The dance of the dead.” The woman half smiled, in her own world of agony. “No!” She screamed. The raven squawked triumphantly, flying off, the juicy titbit in its beak.
The woman turned her empty eye sockets toward Gemina. “This is our life. Welcome to hell!”
I don't know whose artwork this is. Could someone please tell me, so that I can give him/her credit.
