Rome 2800 - A Crucifixion

What if Rome never fell, but surmounted invasions, plagues, and other vicissitudes to expand and consolidate its power to the present day. What would the administration of Roman justice look like?

The magistrate glowered down at them. On the wall behind him the Roman eagle was depicted with outstretch wings, on either side, the fasces, a bundle of rods surrounding an axe, the ancient symbol of the power to punish and the power to execute.

Their trial had lasted barely long enough for the prosecutor to read the charges. It was a foregone conclusion, as it had been from the day they were arrested.

“For treason against the empire, I sentence you to death,” the magistrate intoned. “By crucifixion. To be imposed immediately.”

For a week they’d been held for interrogation. It hadn’t been all that hard, certainly not as bad as they’d feared. In the nearly 2,800 years of Rome’s dominion, her interrogators had learned that pain was not a particularly useful tool for interrogation. If you hurt someone enough, they would talk. But what they said might not be the truth. Indeed, it was generally assumed by the more experienced interrogators that subjects talking under painful torture usually told the interrogators what they wanted to hear.

Instead, the interrogators had become adept at manipulating their subjects. Alora and Felix had been stripped naked on their arrival in the understories of the justice building. They’d been kept naked ever since, even being subjected to a depilatory that removed all their body hair save that on their heads. They were left naked in their glass walled cells, exposed to the view of all who passed by. They were nude when they were led through the halls to their interrogation sessions. Nude when the interrogators questioned them. At first Alora felt horribly vulnerable, covering her breasts and crotch with her hands.

But the interrogators seemed to take no notice and she began to relax. They were actually quite pleasant to her, often spending the sessions just chatting about mundane things. She knew what they were doing, of course. Experienced Resistance fighters had warned them that the Roman interrogators would try to get them to talk about innocent things, putting them at their ease, in hopes that once started they would let secrets slipped.

And then there was the wine. The Romans loved their wine, often brought a glass to an interrogation session. Then they offered her one and she foolishly accepted. The Romans had long since discovered drugs were more effective than pain in eliciting information.

And once she’d revealed what she knew, the interrogations were over. Pain wasn’t used in interrogations. Pain was for punishment. And in the thousands of years of the empire’s existence, the Romans had refined their favorite method of execution.

They were led down a flight of stairs, then down a hallway to a tile walled, windowless room. For the sham trial they’d been allowed minimal clothing, a loin cloth for Felix and a loose, thin cotton tunic for Alora. These were now removed. Wooden yokes were placed across their shoulders and tied at shoulder and wrist.

As Alora watched, one of the guards held Felix steady while another jabbed a hypodermic needle into his butt.

“What the fuck was that?” Felix demanded.

“Just something to make the day more interesting,” the guard with the needle said, slapping the injection site.

The guard came to Alora, putting an arm across her chest and bracing his body against hers. She felt the sting of a hypodermic needle, then a slap on her butt. The guard released her. They strapped leather collars with attached chain leads around Felix and Alora’s necks.

Alora glanced at Felix and was surprised to see his penis starting to become erect. Then she realized that she was beginning to feel the familiar sensation of arousal in her nether regions as well. She looked down and saw that her nipples were becoming swollen and hard.

The outer door of the room was opened and they were led out into what was called the Portico of the Damned. It was the exit used by condemned criminal. An escort of legionaries, helmeted and wearing body armor, carrying machine pistols, waited to escort them. A pedestrian only street led them to the punishment square found in every provincial town in the empire. A crowd was already gathering, word having gotten out that an execution would be held. The local people might not have loved Rome, they might have sympathized with the Resistance, but they weren’t going to miss a free spectacle.

The guards led Alora and Felix down the steps and onto the Path of the Damned, defined by parallel red lines painted on the pavement. Whatever was in the hypodermic, Felix’s cock was as hard as she’d ever seen it, jutting out and upward from his groin, swaying back and forth as he walked. She over heard comments from the crowd lining the way, and comments about her ample, swaying breasts with the hard nipples. And she felt like she was getting wet, as well.

They arrived at the punishment square just as the governor, Gaius Flavius Cornellius, and his wife, the Lady Constantia, arrived. They were just mounting the viewing platform as Alora and Felix were led to opposite sides of the square. The governor and his wife took their seats, the governor immediately giving a hand motion, signaling that the execution should commence.

Two crosses were waiting, laid flat on the ground to make placing the victims easier. But before that occurred, there was a preliminary to attend to.  A 7 foot tall wooden pole stood off to either side of each cross. Felix was led to one, Alora to the other. The yokes were removed and Alora and Felix were positioned each in front of a pole. From the top of each pole dangled a rope, ending in leather cuffs. Their wrists were secured, then the rope pulled up until their arms were stretched over head. Alora was turned around, facing Felix, who had been turned to face the pole. His rope was tightened until he was standing on tiptoe, belly against the pole.

One of the executioners approached, carrying flogger. He delivered half a dozen strokes, quickly, six in each direction. They turned Feix around. Amazingly, his cock was still hard. One of the executioners took two leather thongs from his pocket. One he tied tightly around the base of Felix’s cock and balls. The second he used to bind his scrotum. When he was done, another executioner took a leather strap and beat Felix’s genitals until his legs failed and he would have fallen if not held up by the ropes. Then they turned to Alora.

Grabbing her shoulders, an executioner turned her to face the pole. The rope bound to her wrists was tightened up until she stood on tiptoe. Knowing what was coming, she braced herself, but she still screamed when the first stroke of the flogger ripped across her ass. Again, it assaulted her, this time from left to right. Back and forth the wicked device traced its path across her butt cheeks, until an even dozen strokes had been delivered. The crowd was laughing and jeering. Some had been counting the strokes.

The rope was relaxed slightly so that Alora could have her back turned to the pole. She saw Felix, hanging from the rope, his battered male member still stiff but bruised. She wondered what they had planned for her.

An executioner pulled two more leather thongs from his pocket. Another grabbed her right nipple and pulled it out and up, stretching and raising her breast. A thong was tied tightly around the base, making it balloon out slightly. The process was repeated on the left breast.

The executioner with the leather strap stepped before her. He gave her breasts a series of hard left-right strokes. Then he finished up with three upward strokes at her mons. Alora’s legs gave out on the second strike and she was hanging from the rope when the third and hardest landed. The crowd applauded.

The ropes were unfastened and both Alora and Felix collapsed to the pavement. The executioners picked them up by their arms and legs and carried them to the crosses, which were laid flat, but they had one more task before they were ready to mount them.

As Alora lay there, on her side, her hands over her abused mons, she heard Felix give a strange, animalistic grunt. Before she could determine what had happened, she felt hands grasping her under her arms and lifting her to her feet. One of the executioners held up a shiny metal object, shaped a bit like a tulip, with a stem and wider disk at one end.

“You can guess where this is going,” he said with a smirk, “because we don’t want you soiling our nice cross. Now, I can put it in dry, or you can wet it with your tongue. Up to you.”

Alora’s stomach turns over but she stuck her tongue out and let the man run the plug over it.

“We should probably give it a good cleaning after this use. It’s been a while,” he says.

Strong hands forced her to bend forward. She felt the tip of the plug pressing against her anus. The executioner gradually increased the pressure, her sphincter naturally resisting the intrusion.

“Just relax, woman. It’ll go in easier. Besides, you aren’t going to need your asshole much longer anyway.”

Alora resigned herself to the inevitable and tried to relax. With one hard, painful shove it entered her, her anus closing around the stem. They helped her straighten up and walked her to the cross.

The executioners prepared them for the crucifixion. Nails were no longer used. Nails caused blood loss and that brought a quicker death. Extending the victim’s suffering served the Empire’s purpose better. Alora and Felix’s wrists and ankles were strapped into elaborate cuffs with snap-links affixed to them. Then they were laid on their backs on the stipes, the vertical post. Their arms were stretched out and the wrist cuffs snapped into the eyebolts set at each end of the patibulum, the crossbar. The small footrest, the suppedaneum had been dispensed with. Instead, the ankle cuffs were snapped into eyebolts on the side of the stipes. A leather strap fastened to the cuff and running under the instep prevent the cuff riding up. In Alora’s case, the eyebolts had been placed at the ends of a short crossbar, holding her legs apart and exposing her sex.

With the victim’s mounted, one of the executioners clicked a remote control. Hydraulic rams  began raising the crosses to the vertical. Their bodies slid down the uprights, putting strain on their arms and making breathing more difficult. They countered this by pushing up with their legs, but knew their legs would give out in time. Death would come from slow asphyxiation, if thirst and exposure didn’t kill them first. To make their position even more uncomfortable, the executioners placed T shaped props behind the small of their backs, braced against the uprights, pushing their hips and bellies forward.

But passive torment was not enough. After hanging for about an hour Alora saw an executioner approach Felix. He carried a bowl and a small paint brush. He began to paint Felix’s penis and scrotum with a whitish liquid. At the same time an executioner came to Alora. He carried a length of cord with a small clamp at either end. This he looped around her hips. He fastened a clamp to each of her outer labia and adjusted the length of the cord so that her lower lips were pulled apart, as well as partially retracting her clitoral hood.

The executioner with the bowl and brush approached. He painted her vulva, inner thighs, mons and then her nipples and areolas with what Alora determined was a simple sugar syrup. Quickly flies began to gather. She could see that a small swarm was already crawling over Felix’s genitals as he writhed in discomfort. Her own most tender areas were soon covered, the tickling of the insects’ feet driving her to distraction.

Once the crosses had been erected the crowd was allowed to approach closer, though a red circle painted on the pavement some ten feet from the crosses delineated how close they could approach. Several armed legionaries were posted to enforce it. A good-sized crowd had gathered around them, jeering and laughing at Alora and Felix’s humiliation and discomfort.

Alora saw the crowd part and a woman she recognized as the governor’s wife, Lady Constantia approached. People automatically made way for her and the guards saluted as she entered the circle. She approached Alora, giving her a thorough appraisal with her eyes. She carried a small stick, like a riding crop, which she used to poke at Alora’s breasts, inner thighs and butt. Then, without a word, she turned and left. Fucking Romans, Alora thought, who could figure them?

After an hour’s fly torment, an executioner approached with a hose. He washed the sugar syrup and flies away, but the pressure of the stream of water was a torment of its own on her tender vulva and nipples. He directed the stream at her mouth, telling her to drink while she could.

The hot sun dried her quickly and she began to regret not trying to capture more water in her mouth. The condemned were not given food or drink once on the cross. They were there to be tormented until death released them.

Another part of their torment was the whip. Periodically one or more executioners would approach with a whip, cane, leather strap, or long, thin, whippy plastic rod. They concentrated on Felix’s belly, thighs, and, mostly, his bound sexual parts. The cane and plastic rod were particularly punishing against Alora’s tightly bound breasts. She quickly learned to fear the bullwhip, since it was employed against her upper thighs, mons, and particularly her vulva. The wielder was an expert with an unerring aim.

At midafternoon the executioners began yet another round of torment. A pair of them approached Felix, carrying a small case. They set it down at the base of the cross, opened the top, and pulled out some wires. One, the bare wire at the end of one they wrapped around his scrotum. The other wire ended in a slender metal rod several inches long. This they slid into his urethra, tying it in place with string so it couldn’t be expelled. Two more wire were pulled from the case. These ended in clamps which were placed on his nipples.

One of the executioners fumbled around inside the case for a moment, then stood back. Suddenly Felix screamed and his body jerked spasmodically as electricity shot through his most tender parts. The Resistance had warned them about the Romans propensity to inflict such pain. Alora’s eyes grew wide with fear as the executioners approached her with a similar case.

They set the case down as the base of the cross. They pulled two wires out, ending in clamps which they placed, one on each of her outer lips. Another pair of clamps were brought out and placed on her nipples. An executioner reached inside the case and flipped a switch. Alora braced herself.

The first jolt was to her breasts, like a thousand needles being shoved into them at once. It last for a but a second or two, and then she received a shock to her vulva. She jerked convulsively against her bonds, as if she could somehow pull her body away from the pain. Then there was a pause, ten seconds, maybe fifteen, before her breasts were tormented again. And so, the cycle began. At irregular intervals breasts or crotch were subjected to jolts of electricity, some short, some longer.

Lady Constantia had returned. She had been observing the proceedings for a while before she again approached Alora. Standing four or five feet away she watched as the shock device cycled between her crotch and her breasts, her face impassive but observant.

She went to speak to the head executioner. He in turn came over to Alora. He removed the clamps from her labia. He took he clamps off the wires and replaced them with a single clamp, to which both wires were attached. Spreading Alora’s outer lips apart, he placed the clamp directly on her clitoral hood, making sure that the clitoris underneath was trapped between the jaws.

The next jolt of electricity was concentrated on Alora’s most sensitive organ. The device had been changed, it seemed, to concentrate more on her clitoris, the jolts being longer and seemingly stronger, with fewer assaults on her nipples.

The Lady Constantia observed for a while. Then she left without a word. Shortly thereafter the executioners removed the devices and gave Alora and Felix an hour or so of respite, before beginning the next round of whipping.

The sun was nearly down, and most of the crowd had left to attend to their dinners, when the governor’s car, a large, black SUV, pulled into the square. Lady Constantia stepped out, followed by two of her personal guards. She went up to the chief executioner and handed him a document. He quickly read it, looked at Lady Constantia, then back at the missive.

The head executioner signaled his assistants to come to him. He briefly spoke to them, then took a few paces to face the remaining crowd.

“The governor,” he intoned in a deep base voice that carried well, “has commuted the sentence of death of the criminal Alora to lifetime servitude,” he paused as the crowd began to object, “with punishment. She is to be committed to the custody of the lady Flavius Cornelia Constantia.”

The cross began to rotate to the horizontal. As soon as it lay flat the executioners released Alora’s wrists and ankles from the cuffs. They also removed the thongs that bound her breasts. She was raised to her feet, her wrists cuffed before her. A cape was thrown over her shoulders. Lady Constantia’s guards escorted her to the waiting SUV where she was placed in the far back seats.

Alora was torn by emotions as the vehicle pulled out of the punishment square. Relief that she was possibly not going to die in the next few days. Guilt that she was leaving behind her partner and lover who would surely die a miserable death soon. Fear about for what purpose the Lady Constantia had saved her.

 To be continued….