The Way of the Cross I:
The Dance of Death
By Flavius Galarius
It was summertime, the middle of the seventh month of the year. The Roman army in the region, some three thousand soldiers strong, had been pursuing a ragtag barbarian force of around eight hundred men and women for the past week across the largest province in central Germania. They had finally caught up with them in the midst of an eerie fog at daybreak, in a huge field bordered on all sides by dense hardwood forests. Though vastly outnumbered, and lacking the advanced weaponry of the Romans, the barbarians had refused to surrender, even though the Roman commander had sworn that the Germans’ lives would be spared and that they would simply be taken back to Rome as slaves. Upon hearing of their refusal to surrender, the Roman commander decreed that they all would die--either during the battle or after it--and ordered his men to attack. Using the cover of the early morning fog, the Romans descended upon the barbarian army. Much to their shock and dismay, the Romans had not surprised the barbarians. The Germanic force was fully prepared to meet their attackers, and a bloody and horrific clash ensued.
Hours passed. The sun burned away the fog and journeyed slowly across the sky while the two armies continued to struggle. The barbarians put up a fierce fight, giving the Romans all they could handle. The fighting had lasted until midday. The Romans suffered unusually heavy casualties. A thousand Roman soldiers had perished, and another five hundred had been wounded. But in the end they prevailed, all but annihilating the opposing army. The sunny field, as well as the dark woods surrounding it, was littered with the dead and dying of both armies. There was blood everywhere. Severed arms, legs, and heads lay interspersed with abandoned swords, spears, and shields from one end of the field to the other. Nearly three-fourths of the barbarians--six hundred men and women-- had been killed during the fighting, most literally hacked to pieces on the battlefield. Almost two hundred more lay wounded in the grass, moaning and crying out for help Only a handful had survived the Roman onslaught-- the leader of the force, two of his officers, and three members of his infantry. The leader was around thirty, and the rest were in their middle to late twenties. Though they had started the day strong and robust, all six were now bruised, bleeding, and exhausted.
The Roman commander surveyed the death and destruction on the battlefield before him. He quickly assessed the situation and began to organize the remainder of his army for the tasks that would have to be completed by the end of the day. He assigned about five hundred soldiers to spend the rest of the day burying the dead. Only the Roman dead were to be buried; the barbarian corpses would be left to rot and be consumed by wild animals. Three hundred more were ordered to gather up their wounded comrades, move them into the shade of the forest, and assist the small medical unit in caring for them. He formed another detail with three hundred soldiers whose task it was scour the field and woods and stockpile all useable weapons. Yet another detail was formed with one hundred soldiers. Their task was to take from the dead barbarians coins, pouches, and other valuable items. A second group of around one hundred was ordered to kill the wounded barbarians and then to break up and offer their assistance to the other groups. Finally, he formed a squad of fifty soldiers and put them under the command of a centurion. They would be responsible executing the barbarian prisoners. The remaining one hundred fifty Roman soldiers had been recognized by their superiors for acts of courage, bravery, and valor in the morning’s battle. They were assigned no extra duties for the afternoon; the commander insisted that they eat, drink, rest, and enjoy the entertainment provided by the spectacle of the prisoners’ crucifixion. The soldiers quickly and quietly dispersed to begin their work. With all the tasks and duties now properly delegated, the commander retired with his officers and advisors to the shade of the trees to plan the next stage of the campaign against the barbarians.
At noon Roman guards herded the pathetic little group of prisoners toward the eastern most corner of the field, where a flurry of activity was underway. There, the centurion chosen by the commander had been shouting orders to the soldiers who comprised the execution squad. A number of the soldiers had been dispatched to the supply wagons, and were now returning, dragging the thick, heavy, rough-hewn posts that would serve as uprights, and shouldering the shorter timbers that were used as cross beams. Other soldiers were digging six holes in the ground spaced no more than twenty feet apart. When the holes were ready, another group planted the uprights, taking care to ensure that their tops were about seven feet above the ground. They then pounded wooden wedges into the ground to hold the posts securely in place and leaned ladders against the backs of them. Still others were busy laying out the patibuli and arranging the ropes that would be used to raise them up the stipes. When the prisoners and their guard detail reached the execution site, the six barbarians, three men and three women, were lined up in front of the Roman centurion.
The centurion pointed to three of the prisoners--Tagar, the leader of the barbarian army, and his two female lieutenants, Brendela and Lionia--and ordered them to be crucified first. The condemned were to be hung so that they faced west, staring out across the battlefield and straight into the brilliant afternoon sun Some of the soldiers in the squad protested that the three needed to be scourged before they were crucified, as was the Roman custom. The centurion explained that the prisoners were already exhausted from the battle that had raged all morning. Having them scourged in their present condition could weaken them so much that they might die too soon after they were nailed to their crosses. The centurion wanted to make sure that these three had enough strength left to experience the full torture, agony, and humiliation of the cross as partial revenge for the losses suffered by the Roman army. It was important to him that the dance of death for these prisoners be a brutally long and slow one. Not only would they not be scourged, but they would also not be given the traditional drink, a red wine mixed with mild opiates, to numb the senses that was usually offered to those about to be crucified. They were to feel the fullness of pain on this day. Having completed his explanation, the centurion once again ordered the crucifixion to proceed.
Soldiers surrounded the three terrified prisoners and quickly began stripping them of their clothes. Tagar remained still and offered no resistance as his armor and undergarments were removed. He stood frightened and embarrassed before the Romans who taunted him, mocking the feminine look of his long blonde hair, the un-warrior-like smoothness of his body, and the deficient size of his shrunken manhood. Brendela, however, struggled with all her remaining strength against her captors, and in her native tongue argued loudly against the injustice of crucifying prisoners of war. A soldier stepped forward and, with a heavy strike with the butt end of his spear, subdued her. Rough hands tore away her clothing, revealing her ample breasts and the thick, dark patch of hair between her legs. As the soldiers approached Lionia, she fell to the ground moaning, crying, and begging for the Romans to have mercy on her. Two soldiers grabbed her under her arms, lifted her back to her feet, and held her steady as two other soldiers began tearing off her garments. As they tore away her tunic, one of the soldiers began caressing her small, firm breasts and twisting her nipples. Another soldier put his hand between her legs, rubbing the fiery red hair on her mound, and roughly moving his fingers in and out of her. Lionia sobbed and whimpered, but was powerless to resist.
Once the three were stripped and standing naked before him, the centurion gave the next order. Tagar would be crucified in the middle, with Brendela and Lionia nailed to crosses on either side of him. The soldiers moved in to carry out the crucifixion sentence. Once begun, the matter was done quickly and efficiently. One soldier shoved Tagar’s chest, pushing him backwards, while two others grabbed Lionia and Brendela by their hair and yanked forcefully. They each fell to the ground in front of their patibuli, whereupon their arms were grabbed, spread out along the thick beams, and held tightly. The executioners approached the prisoners, knelt before them with their heavy hammers and six inch nails, and began the ugly work of crucifying their terrified victims. The crowd of idle soldiers, those rewarded by not being assigned to the clean-up and burial details, pushed in closer. They bumped and jostled each other in an effort to get a better view. Some of them had never witnessed a crucifixion, and they were eager to see how the prisoners reacted when the rusty nails were first driven into their flesh. Most who had watched crucifixions before were used to seeing men crucified. Seldom had they been given the opportunity to watch women go the way of the cross, particularly women as beautiful and tempting as the redhead and brunette who now lay naked on the ground before them.
The midday air was filled with the shrieks and screams of the condemned as their wrists were secured to the patibuli. Tagar shouted curses at the Romans as one wrist was nailed to the cross piece. He looked down his body to discover that, in this initial frenzy of pain, his penis had become erect, much to the amusement of the soldiers standing nearby, who laughed loudly and taunted him. His hips bucked and his body thrashed wildly as the executioner finished nailing his other wrist. Brendela howled in pain and called out to Tagar as her executioner hammered the nails home through her wrists and into the patibulum. The fire shooting along her arms caused her to arch her back by spreading her legs, pushing down hard on her feet, and rolling onto the top of her head. This sent her torso thrusting upward and outward, exposing her extremely hairy bush and her vagina to the lewd stares of the soldiers. One of them approached and bent down beside her. Reaching his hand between her legs, he tore out a handful of the coarse, dark hair and scattered it onto her stomach. Brendela cursed and spat at him, and was rewarded for her efforts when her executioner slapped her face viciously and repeatedly. Meanwhile, Lionia cried out loudly, then wept openly, as her executioner crushed her delicate left wrist with his pounding hammer. Blood spurted from the wound and her fingers involuntarily curled up. She began to pray to her gods for deliverance as he finished her left wrist and jumped across her body to repeat the process on her right one. Her body twisted from side to side as she writhed in pain, showing first one group of soldiers and then another her hardened nipples and the magnificent patch of red hair below her navel.
The centurion brought his arms together over his head, the signal for the soldiers to raise the cross beams. Lionia, Tagar, and Brendela, their bodies drenched in sweat, continued to howl and scream as the soldiers pulled them to their feet by grabbing the ends of their patibuli and lifting upward. Once standing, they wobbled unsteadily as the soldiers guided them to their stipes. They were given no rest, however, as the centurion immediately gave the order to affix the beams to the uprights. The soldiers on the ground ran ropes through the rings on each end of the three cross pieces and tossed them up to those standing on ladders that had been leaned against the backs of the stipes. The three condemned prisoners were roughly jerked upward. The nails in their wrists tore again at their flesh as they were guided up the poles. The terror of the other prisoners was evident on their faces as they watched the Romans’ brutal treatment of their comrades. One fell to his knees and began to vomit, retching repeatedly onto the parched ground in front of him; another sobbed and looked away, unable to bear the sight; the third began pleading with the Romans for mercy. The soldiers continued to lift the patibuli until they were about a foot below the tops of the poles. At that point they secured the mortised cross pieces to the uprights with pegs.
The naked man and two naked women now hung heavily by their wrists, their bodies pulled taut by the weight of gravity. The centurion gave the order for the executioners to nail the prisoners’ feet. Two soldiers at each cross grabbed the legs of the condemned and pushed them up the stipes, so that the victims’ knees were bent at ninety degree angles, and so that their feet were about six inches apart, were flat against the uprights, and were two and one half to three feet off the ground. The victims were still in shock from the pain of being hoisted up by their wrists, and while they each made a several weak attempts to kick free, they were easily subdued as strong hands held their legs firmly in place. Then the executioners moved in, and the midday air was once again filled with the prisoners’ screams as the final nails, longer and thicker than the nails in their wrists, were hammered through the bones of their feet and into the uprights. Tagar, Brendela, and Lionia were now crucified. The soldiers gathered up the ladders and ropes, and stepped back away from the crosses to admire their work.
The three naked, condemned prisoners looked out at the sun drenched countryside, down at the Roman soldiers who had just brutally nailed them to their crosses, and then back and forth at each other with disbelief and despair. They were just beginning the excruciating and gruesome ordeal of dying the death of the crucified. All three were hanging at the bottom of their crosses. In that position, their knees were fully bent and their legs were splayed open, exposing their genitals to the full view of the soldiers. Slowly, Brendela, Lionia, and Tagar began to realize the full horror of crucifixion. Lionia was the first to panic when she found that she could not fully breathe. As long as she was hanging by her wrists she could inhale in shallow gasps, but was powerless to exhale. Fighting through the pain that racked her entire body, Lionia began to push against the nails in her feet while pulling against those in her wrists. She slowly raised herself up on her cross, grunting with effort and moaning with pain, until her legs were straight and her head was at least a foot above her arms and reaching past the top of the upright. In this position her breathing was rapid and easier, but after only a few minutes the pain in her shattered feet and in her cramping arms and legs became unbearable. Lionia cried out loudly. Slowly she extended her knees and slid back down her cross until she felt herself once again hanging by her wrists. She looked to her right in time to see Tagar and Brendela begin the same sequence. The crucified would repeat this process hundreds of times during the long day that was ahead of them.
During the first two hours of their crucifixion, Tagar, Brendela, and Lionia remained fairly strong. The act of pushing and pulling themselves up to the tops of their crosses over and over again, though difficult and torturous, was nothing compared to the agony that awaited them. Each journey up the stipes was more demanding and painful than the previous one; each journey down more hopeless and defeating. At times the three slowly dying prisoners moved together as they raised and lowered themselves in their efforts to breathe. At other times, Brendela would be grunting with effort, pushing upward, her large breasts swinging from side to side, while Tagar stood on bleeding feet screaming and cursing, and while Lionia, sobbing, was sliding down to the bottom of her cross. They also remained strong enough to speak occasionally. They were heard to offer words of encouragement and comfort to each other, in between their shrieks and groans, when they held themselves rigid and outstretched at the tops of their crosses. The soldiers were captivated by the early stages of the crucifixion and marveled at the spectacle before them--three tortured, broken, figures caught up in the gruesome, yet erotic, dance of death on the cross. They were more than willing to contribute to the torment of the condemned. The result was a constant cacophony of sound, an unnerving mingling of sobs, curses, and screams from the crucified, and taunts, jeers, and insults from the soldiers.
As the afternoon wore slowly on, Brendela, Lionia, and Tagar were weakening from their relentless torture in the hot sun and searing air. They were also becoming increasingly dehydrated. Their lips were cracked and dry, their tongues swollen. The raging thirst that now gripped them was like nothing they had ever experienced. Toward the end of the third hour, all three began crying for water. From the tops of their crosses, they pitifully begged the Romans to have mercy and let them drink. The centurion decided that this was a good opportunity for a little amusement. He took a spear, stabbed into a large sponge, and ordered one of his men to soak the sponge with water. He then approached the cross on his left where Brendela hung heavily by her wrists, her head leaning on her right shoulder. He lifted the spear into the air and held the sponge at the top of her cross. Water dripped slowly from the sponge and ran down the stipes onto Brendela’s neck, back, and shoulders. She immediately began struggling up the cross toward the sponge. As Brendela got closer, the centurion lifted raised his spear again, lifting the sponge higher, keeping it just out of her reach. The soldiers roared with laughter. Tagar and Lionia, naively assuming that they had been granted an act of mercy, had increased their calls for water, and had been watching closely to see how much Brendela would be allowed to drink. Now understanding, they looked away from Brendela’s cross in disgust and defeat, cursed the Romans loudly, and went back to trying to deal with their own horrific pain.
Brendela was now fully extended, balanced on her bleeding feet. She stretched and strained with all her strength, but still could not reach the sponge. Sobbing uncontrollably, she begged the centurion for just a few drops of water. He laughed and moved the sponge down, even with her face, but kept it to the side, just far enough away that, when she turned her head, she was still an inch from it. A few minutes later he lowered the spear and positioned the sponge on Brendela’s stomach. Precious drops of water ran down past her navel and disappeared into the forest of black hair between her legs. Crazed with thirst, frustration, and torment, Brendela, shrieking curses at the centurion, began to slide back down the stipes. As soon as she was hanging by her wrists again, the sponge disappeared over her head, as the centurion once more raised his spear to the top of her cross. The soldiers began, sarcastically, to root for Brendela. They encouraged her to fight her way up her cross again to get a drink of water. As she began her struggle upward they yelled things like, “Keep going, you’re almost there, bitch!” and, “Just a little farther, cunt, you can do it!” They cheered when she finally got herself in the standing position and was once again only inches below the sponge. Brendela pushed with her feet and pulled with arms as hard as she could, and strained her head up until every muscle in her neck bulged out. Howling in pain, she held herself rigid in that position. Minutes passed; her entire body began to shake. After what seemed like an eternity, the centurion, sensing that Brendela was about to give up and slide back down the cross, lowered the sponge onto her face. Still shaking from the cramps that consumed every muscle, Brendela sucked furiously at the sponge, greedily drinking in every last drop of water it held. When the sponge was dry, the centurion lowered the spear. He ordered a soldier to refill the sponge and he then moved to the other crosses and went through the same tormenting ritual with Tagar and Lionia.
The day continued to pass slowly at the edge of the battlefield. The naked, crucified prisoners, their bodies glistening with sweat, had struggled on their crosses for more than four and a half hours in the burning afternoon sun. Tagar, Brendela, and Lionia were now suffering terribly. They had come a long way in pain, but each of them still had a long way to go. Sweat poured down from their foreheads and into their eyes. They could no more escape that torment than they could wipe away the sweat soaked strands of hair that stuck in their eyes, noses, and mouths as their heads tossed in all directions with the mounting pain that racked their bodies. Nor could they escape the flies, gnats, and other insects of the air that massed in their wounds and bit every inch of their exposed flesh. The agony of the condemned multiplied with each passing minute on the cross. Every nerve ending in their bodies was on fire; every muscle in their arms, legs, and backs was given to an unending cycle of cramping and involuntary spasms. Their bodies twisted in every way possible as they tried in vain to find some relief from their torment and torture. More and more effort was required for each of them to summon the energy necessary to struggle up to the tops of their crosses and fight for precious breaths, only to surrender to the unendurable pain and once again slump heavily downward. They had long since given up trying to speak to each other. Each of the three was now scarcely aware that he or she was not the only one nailed to a Roman cross on a scorching midsummer afternoon. Tagar, Lionia, and Brendela fell further and further into their own private, mindless delirium. Now when they struggled to the tops of their crosses, all that could be heard between the moans born of pain and sobs of despair were the hoarse, failing voices of the crucified pitifully calling on their mothers or fathers, their long dead ancestors, and their gods to deliver them from an ever increasing agony. As the dance of death continued to slowly play itself out on the crosses in front of them, the soldiers amused themselves by taunting the crucified with jeers and insults. When one of the condemned began the latest struggle to the top of his or her cross for air, they cheered and applauded in mock encouragement; when one of them sunk wearily back down, they feigned concern and pity. All the while the soldiers passed around animal skin flasks of water and wine, drinking deeply from them, only adding to Tagar, Brendela, and Lionia’s hellish torment.
After a while, The Roman soldiers grew bored with watching their victims’ endless struggles and asked their commander if he could do something to make the final stage of the crucifixion more interesting while the three prisoners slowly expired. The centurion considered his men’s request, and toward the end of the fifth hour, much to their relief, proclaimed that he had decided on a unique way to add to the agony of the crucified. He ordered the three remaining prisoners to be brought to him. Through a Roman soldier who could speak their language, they were told they were being offered a bargain. The centurion pointed to one of the prisoners, a female warrior named Rena, and explained that she could save herself the horrible fate that Lionia, Tagar, and Brendela now shared. In order to escape the cross and be taken back to Rome as a slave, she would have to bring the man on the center cross to orgasm for the amusement and entertainment of the soldiers. The centurion grabbed Rena by the arm and pushed her toward the foot of Tagar’s cross.
Tagar, writhing in pain, looked down from his instrument of torture and death as Rena approached. He pushed himself up on his bleeding feet so that he could both breathe and try to speak. With great effort he begged Rena to back away from his cross; he implored her not to subject him to any further humiliation. Tagar was beginning to sink back down on his cross as Rena begged for his forgiveness. Through her tears she told him that she would do anything to keep from being hung with him on the tree of woe. Tagar was now back down at the bottom of his cross, his genitals at the same level as Rena’s chest. She reached out and took his limp penis in her hand. Tagar moaned softly as Rena slowly caressed the dying man’s cock. Even amidst the unimaginable agony of crucifixion, Tagar began to respond to Rena’s tentative, delicate touch. After only a few strokes, he found himself with a throbbing erection. Rena stopped, withdrew her hand, spit in it, and then continued to masturbate him with long, slow strokes, running her hand up and back along the full length of his shaft. As both his pleasure and pain mounted, Tagar began in agony to again push himself up on his cross. As his body rose and straightened, his cock pulled up and away from Rena’s grasp. He moaned again, this time louder than before. Rena stood at the foot of Tagar’s cross sobbing, watching him suffer, at once both hating herself for participating in this spectacle, but remaining determined not to be crucified.
The sound of Tagar’s moaning had drawn Brendela and Lionia’s attention to the man hanging between them. They had stared silently at first as Rena had reached up to Tagar to begin her torturous, horrific hand job, too busy dealing with their own pain to comprehend what they were seeing. Slowly they began to understand the significance of what was taking place at the center cross. With great effort the two women pushed themselves to the tops of their crosses and began cursing the Romans, not only for what was happening to their leader, but also for what they both now knew was in store for them. Rena looked back and forth to the crosses on Tagar’s right and left, and spoke to Lionia and Brendela, explaining to them why she was doing this to Tagar. Three painful lashes from the centurion’s whip and a reminder that she could easily join her suffering comrades prodded Rena to turn her attention back toTagar, as Brendela and Lionia slid silently back down their crosses, tears streaming down their faces.
Rena reached up to her leader and took him in her hand again. She then resumed slowly and deliberately masturbating Tagar. She moved her hand back and forth, again and again, as Tagar writhed and moaned. She continued to stroke his penis with her right hand for four or five minutes, and then added to the erotic torture by reaching her left hand up to fondle his scrotum. Crying out in the madness of pain and arousal, Tagar slid down the cross once more, until, hanging fully by his wrists, his knees parted and his rigid penis was once more directly in front of Rena. Through the translator, the centurion ordered Rena to fellate Tagar. When she refused the centurion whipped her unmercifully and shouted to his soldiers to ready her patibulum. Terrified, Rena leaned in toward the cross and took Tagar’s swollen member into her mouth. She slid slowly back and forth over it, occasionally flicking its tip with her tongue. The minutes passed as she continued to suck Tagar’s cock, driving him to the brink of insanity. With every muscle in his body cramping, with the pain in his bleeding wrists and feet wringing moans from deep inside him, Tagar fought his way to the top of his cross again. As he raised himself up, his cock pulled out of Rena’s mouth. Again, she reached her hand up, grasped him tightly, and resumed jerking him off. Soon Tagar began panting, and Rena’s strokes became shorter and faster. As the rhythm of her hand increased, Tagar arched his back. His head shook violently from side to side at the top of his cross. His entire body, racked with pain, went rigid and he felt himself in the grip of an intense orgasm. Tagar’s body began to shake spasmodically. He strained with all his remaining strength against the nails in his bleeding, broken wrists and feet. He screamed at the top of his lungs, as his penis first shot a huge load of cum over Rena’s head to the dusty ground behind her, and then continued to spurt lesser streams into her hair and face, and then finally to dribble cum onto his own thighs, and on down to the dirt at the base of the cross upon which he was dying. Rena, cursing the Romans and sobbing uncontrollably, released Tagar and wandered away on unsteady feet, trying in vain to wipe the evidence of what she had just done from her face, hair, hands and clothing. Weakened, spent, and humiliated, Tagar’s knees bent outward as he slid heavily down the upright until he was once more hanging by his the nails in his wrists. His head slumped forward so that his chin rested on his chest; his eyes were closed; his lips moved, but the only sounds that could be heard were the Roman soldiers’ whistles, laughter, cheers, and applause that made his shame complete.
With the soldiers now once again actively interested in the crucifixion spectacle, the centurion announced that there was to be even more entertainment, and ordered the two remaining prisoners, both men, to be brought to him. Through the translator, Dragan and Marnas were given the same bargain as Rena--bring Brendela and Lionia to orgasm as they struggled on their crosses and they would not be crucified. Eager to escape the cross, Dragan and Marnas quickly walked toward the two naked women hanging on either side of their leader. Brendela and Lionia could only stare in mute horror as their comrades in battle approached them, ready to save themselves by adding to the crucified women’s torment, agony, and shame. As Dragan took a stance in front of Brendela, and Marnas in front of Lionia, the centurion added yet another twist. He told his soldiers that they could place bets on which of the two women would reach orgasm first. The soldiers shouted their approval and immediately began placing their bets. “Three days’ pay says the red cunt comes first!” “No chance--a week’s pay on the brunette bitch with the hairy bush!” And so it went. Once the all the bets were placed, and the money given to the centurion to hold, Marnas and Dragan were told to proceed.
Dragan, standing directly in front of Brendela, reached up and began to slowly massage her large, sweat covered breasts, as she hung by her wrists at the bottom of her cross. He cupped her breasts in his hands, pushing them up and to the sides; he rubbed his rough knuckles back and forth across her nipples. Brendela, powerless to resist, cursed Dragan and spit in his face. Then, overcome with shame, she closed her eyes and turned her head to the left in a vain attempt to block out what was happening to her. At the same time, on the other side of Tagar, Marnas walked to the back of Lionia’s cross. Unable to see him, Lionia shut her eyes and braced herself. From behind her cross, Marnas reached up around the cross with his left hand and lightly swept the tips of his fingers, first across Lionia’s right breast, and then across her left one. As he continued to repeat that process, Lionia’s nipples began to harden. With his right hand Marnas reached around the other side of the cross and began running his fingers through the red hairs below her navel. He next moved down a little farther, lightly touching her pussy lips, parting them only slightly. He began to slowly stroke her, taking nearly five seconds to move his finger from the bottom of her slit to the top. When he reached the top he removed his finger and started over. Repulsed, Lionia clenched her teeth and frantically threw her hips to the right and then the left as she tried to evade Marnas’ fingers. Her efforts were all in vain; Marnas kept his hand in her crotch, sliding his fingers over her labia, skillfully following her every move from behind the cross. Lionia’s body suddenly contorted as a new wave of muscle cramps gripped her arms and back. Still Marnas slowly and silently stroked her. After several minutes, he began gently massaging her clitoris with a slow circular motion. Lionia sobbed softly as she felt the wetness between her legs and realized that, even amidst the pain and agony of her crucifixion, she was becoming aroused. The soldiers who had bet on the red haired victim cheered loudly as Lionia began to respond to Marnas’s touch. Her body began to quiver; Lionia struggled to straighten out her legs and push herself up on her cross. She was disgusted to find that she now could not stop herself from straining to push her pelvis out toward Marnas’s hand to make herself more available.
Meanwhile, over at Brendela’s cross, Dragan had dropped his right hand from the dying woman’s breasts and with his fingers traced a line down her stomach toward her dark triangle. Once there, he slowly parted Brendela’s lips and pushed three fingers into her vagina. He moved his fingers in and out to a slow rhythm, and with each insertion he flicked her clitoris with his thumb. Like Lionia, Brendela was horrified to find herself responding to being masturbated by Dragan. She forced herself up on her cross, and, enduring the terrible pain in her arms and legs, began undulating her hips and pelvis to the rhythm of Dragan’s fingers. As she moved up her cross, Dragan dropped his left hand from Brendela’s breasts and inserted a finger into the tortured woman’s rectum, even as he continued to move the fingers of his other hand in and out of her pussy. Moan after moan of building pleasure escaped Brendela’s lips. This brought a round of cheers from the soldiers who had bet on the hairy brunette. Both groups began arguing anew as to which one of the crucified women would be the first to come.
Dragan and Marnas continued to slowly and methodically masturbate Brendela and Lionia. The women’s pain and agony continued to mount, but so, too, did their desire. They were now thoroughly aroused, their nipples rock hard, their pussies soaking wet. Both women were in the full standing position, moaning and crying as their bodies shook and their heads wagged back and forth at the top of their crosses. In this position, their breasts were now out of their tormentors’ reach, so Dragan and Marnas focused their full attention on the women’s genitals. Marnas came around from the back of Lionia’s cross, grabbed the crucified woman’s hips, and buried his face in her sex. He deftly darted his tongue in and out of her pussy and back and forth across her clitoris. Dragan continued his rhythmic finger fucking of Brendela. Whenever either woman succumbed to the pain of the standing position and slid back down the cross, her tormentor would once again reach up to fondle her breasts and twist her nipples with one hand, while continuing to work between her legs with the other. Brendela and Lionia were out of their minds as the orgasms continued to build within them. They pushed and pulled against the nails holding their bloody wrists and feet, moving their bodies up and down, back and forth.
Meanwhile, on the center cross, Tagar hung heavily by his wrists. He had used up almost all of the energy he had left struggling as Rena had slowly sucked him and jacked him off. Any remaining strength had been sapped the moment he had come. He was totally exhausted, and was much closer to death than the two women crucified with him. He was now almost too weak to pull himself to the top of cross to breathe. Still, he found himself turning his head back and forth so that he could see the crosses to his right and left. He realized that, even though he was now quickly dying, he was drawn to watch the unfolding erotic spectacle as the men once under his command tried to save themselves by masturbating his lieutenants. The scene of the naked women writhing on their crosses, being brought to orgasm, was too much for Tagar. He looked down and saw that he was becoming erect again. His penis stiffened as the cries and moans of the tortured women on the brink of ecstasy filled his ears. He slowly struggled to push himself up the cross for what must have been the five hundredth time. He found to his horror that he could not make it; he was simply too weak. As his breaths became more shallow, Tagar realized that his penis was becoming harder. He was on fire with the urge to come again, even as he was rapidly being asphyxiated. Summoning the energy born of sheer will and determination, Tagar pushed and pulled his way to the top of his cross. His penis tingled as he bucked his hips wildly in the air. He gulped in three deep breaths of air and came. Tagar’s whole body pumped back and forth as his penis weakly squirted and dribbled out what little semen was left inside him. He screamed loudly with the rest of the air in his lungs. Then, a strange calm enveloped him. The still brilliant late afternoon sun gave way to a black, empty nothingness as Tagar slid silently to the bottom of his cross and died.
Tagar’s death had gone unnoticed by the Roman soldiers. Their cheers for what was happening on either side of him had drowned out his final cry. There was now no reason for anyone to be interested in the man nailed to the center cross. All eyes were fixed upon the crucified women instead. Brendela and Lionia moaned and writhed in agony on their crosses, as their torturous masturbation at the hands of Dragan and Marnas continued. The tension kept building; both women getting closer and closer to their climax as they moved up and down on their instruments of torture, shame, and death. The soldiers were beside themselves with excitement. They constantly yelled and cheered, driving Dragan and Marnas on. Finally, Lionia, mad with desire, pushed herself up once more to the top of the cross. As she did so, Marnas resumed tonguing her clit, faster and more urgently than before. His grip on her hips tightened, and he began to forcefully move her pelvis back and forth. At the top of her cross, Lionia threw back her head and howled as the most intense orgasm of her short life overwhelmed her. Her sweat-covered body shuddered and shook violently. Every muscle in her arms and legs spasmed involuntarily. She came again, and again, and again. Waves of pleasure mingled with her unbearable pain as she screamed repeatedly at the top of her lungs into the hot afternoon air. Marnas, stunned by the sheer intensity of the crucified woman’s orgasms, released her hips and staggered back away from the cross. Those who had bet on the red-haired prisoner erupted with cheers and applause as the exhausted, humiliated woman’s legs suddenly went limp and she fell so quickly and heavily to the bottom of her cross that her wrists were nearly torn free from the patibulum.
Dragan, having seen that Lionia was about to come, had increased the pace with which he was masturbating Brendela. His fingers moved in and out of her pussy more quickly, and he applied more pressure as he continued to rub her clitoris. Even as Lionia had struggled up her cross that last time, Brendela was pumping her hips back and forth with the fury of impending orgasm. She, too, raised herself again on her bleeding feet and strained against the nails which pinned her wrists to the cross. Her head was high above the top of the upright, jerking first to the right, then to the left; her eyes were closed tight and her moaning grew louder. Right after Lionia had climaxed, Brendela’s whole body went rigid. She gritted her teeth, pumped her hips furiously, and finally came. She pushed forward, away from the cross as far as the nails in her wrists and feet would allow. Her breaths were quick and shallow, and she made low, guttural sounds as orgasm after orgasm washed over her. Then, like Lionia, Brendela, totally spent, went limp and sank to the bottom of her cross, silently enduring the shame of what had just occurred.
One group of soldiers rejoiced in their good fortune while the other group groused and complained about the bad luck of having bet on the wrong woman. The centurion quickly divided the money among the winning soldiers and briefly consoled the losers. Then, noticing that Tagar had expired on the center cross, and realizing that the women had been suffering on their crosses for over six hours now, he gave the order for the soldiers to put an end to the women’s agony by performing the crucifragium. Brendela and Lionia, both exhausted from being masturbated to orgasm and now close to death, wept silently as they hung down at the bottom of their crosses. Two Roman soldiers, each carrying a heavy plank of wood, approached the degraded and humiliated women. They took their stances beside the crosses. They did not have long to wait. Brendela pitifully tried to raise herself again to breathe. It took her a while, but she was able to struggle once again up to the standing position. Once her legs were straightened out, the soldier at her cross viciously swung his plank, striking Brendela simultaneously on both legs, just below the knees, shattering her lower leg bones. Her six hours of unrelenting agony and torture on the cross had left Brendela without the strength to even scream as the crucifragium was applied to her. Her legs now useless, and her arms too weak to support her any longer, Brendela hung her head and slid down the rough timber of the upright for the last time. Even as Brendela legs were being broken, on the other cross Lionia, too, struggled to stand for yet another breath. The soldier at her cross was ready, and as soon as her legs straightened she met the same fate as Brendela. Lionia cried out one last time as the soldier broke her legs. She managed to hold herself up by her quivering arms for a few more seconds. Then, sinking to the bottom of her cross, hanging by her wrists again, Lionia choked, gasped twice for air, choked again, and died.
The sun was beginning to set when the Roman commander arrived at the execution site to consult with the centurion. The two men talked for a few minutes, and then the commander stepped aside while the centurion spoke to his men. He told them that this was one of the best crucifixions he had ever participated in. He noted that the three prisoners had put on quite a show from their crosses. Then, through his translator, the centurion addressed the remaining prisoners. He commended them on carrying out their part of the bargain. He complimented them on how earnestly and diligently they had approached the task of masturbating their dying comrades. The prisoners nodded and smiled. They explained that they certainly had not enjoyed their part in the spectacle, but given the terms of the bargain, they had really had no choice but to comply. The centurion laughed heartily for a moment. Then the smile left his face. He spat on the ground, cursed the barbarians for inflicting such heavy casualties on the Roman army, and asked the prisoners if they had really believed his promise that they could escape the cross. He turned away and again spoke briefly with the commander. Then the final two orders of the day were given. The centurion spoke first, ordering his soldiers to scourge and crucify Rena, Dragan, and Marnas. Then the commander gave the order for the army to assume formation to begin the march toward the next encounter with barbarian forces. The long and eventful day in the Germanic countryside ended with two columns of Roman soldiers disappearing from the field into the forest to the north, and with the dance of death just beginning for one naked woman and two naked men, crucified, screaming in agony from the tops of their crosses into the lonely darkness of the approaching night.