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The crucifixion

castration, torture

Two ancient rapists meet a painful fate.

by site friend nathan9001@yahoo.com

Art available for $5 patrons

 

Important note for the reader: This story is a little different from the rest of the Ayzintion City series, and while it fits in that context, it stands alone in its own right. It deals with the execution of two criminals, and the method used in this story as described is based on historical facts, as best I could research them. Still, it is fictional, and I have taken some liberty and made speculations as best I could on matters where no historical data could be found on where the research could not be independently verified.

As a reminder, Ayzintion City is a place like no other place on earth. It is city where the slave traders come, and the slave buyers come, and the entire city with its ancient buildings and associated businesses are all linked to the trade. It is a place where the Eastern Province and the Southern Province converge, and sometimes the slave auctions will trade as many as a thousand boys in a single week. Ayzintion City has existed since the first maps were drawn, and while it is well known among those that deal in human flesh it is almost unheard of outside of that elite circle. The city is hidden in the mountains, and it is surrounded by water and deep ravines. Unless you know the way into the city, you would never be able to find it. The majority of all slave trading that is done has its roots to Ayzintion, and if you are interested in buying or selling or you need to find a young man to own it is there that you will be drawn.

 

Ayzintion City – The Crucifixion

I stared down the road and saw them, the two men, and my heart started to pound. My name is Ashton Lyman, and I waited all morning so that I would have a good spot. In all of my twenty-five years I never have seen an execution, and I just wasn’t going to miss this opportunity no matter what. Normally, men who break the law here in the city are whipped and then released. If their crimes are especially serious, then they are given into slavery, finding themselves in the slave pens and their freedom gone forever. And if their crimes are extremely heinous, then the council will have them gelded, and sometimes even their cocks are taken if they are especially evil. Afterwards, depending on their sentence, they can be chained in the pits for several years, or even for life if it is mandated.

While the provision is in the law and the council has the power, it’s just rare for a prisoner to be executed. For one thing, it isn’t necessary, and the punishment of a forced gelding and a following enslavement is usually sufficient that it is all the deterrence that is needed. So, it is very rare, in fact, extremely rare, that any man will be sentenced to die, no matter what is his crime. I was an eleven year old boy the last time it was done, and my mother wouldn’t let me see any of it.

Still, I later saw the body, still stretched out on the cross, hanging down on the main road that leads into the city from the ravine. I remember seeing it, bloated, with its eyes plucked out and the flesh rotting off the bones. Still, it fascinated me, and my young mind tried to fathom what it must have been like to see him nailed in place, hanging there and waiting to die. So, this time, I am here, and there is no way I would miss it.

These men, as far as I’m concerned, deserve their crucifixions. They raped, and then killed, a councilmen’s daughter. Councilman Rotigius lost his eight year old girl to these men, and so there is no sympathy for them at all. Still, I think if it had been someone else’s daughter they had raped and killed, then they never would have been sent to the cross. Instead, they’d have probably been nutted, and perhaps even de-cocked, and then enslaved for the rest of their miserable lives as eunuchs. But they would have been alive.

Oh well. They did it, and so they will pay for it and so be it. The one in front, Milen Tenol, is right around twenty. He is no stranger to the city, and I knew him when he was a teenager. He’s always been in trouble, and he’s been whipped before. I guess I always thought he would someday get into serious trouble.

Milen’s hair is blond, and unkempt, and he is straining as he carries the weighted cross piece. His arms are tied to it, and as he struggles with the weight and gets closer I can see that many along the road are spitting at him. He looks dirty, and I can see he’s been whipped. Well whipped. There are red stripes down his legs, and along his thighs, and even some across his belly where the whip wrapped around him and found its mark. His cock is hanging, limp, hanging down shamefully and oh-so-small, almost as if it’s trying to hide from all those that are staring. There is a red line across the middle of it, and apparently the whip hit him there. I wonder if he was hard when it happened?

Milen is looking at the dirt as he walks, his naked body staggering under the weight of the wooden beam that will be his doom. His body is sweating in the noon sun, the heat making him sweat and as he gets closer I can see it is making him glisten. As I look at him I have to wonder what possessed him to kill a little girl. I have no idea, but I find that I am anxious to see him on his cross.

The other man, behind Milen, is in his mid-thirties, and his black dishevelled hair is wild and matted. They call him Arthin. Arthin Vinovich. I do not know him. He’s got a beard, a thick, scraggly beard, and his eyes are wild and he’s staring down the road. He’s a hell of a man, with strong muscles that indicate he’s been worked hard in his life. His arms are powerful, as are his thighs, and compared to the younger man in front of him he’s much stronger and meaner looking. His nuts are huge too, and his big sac is so full of his manhood that it catches my eye. Only the nub of his cock is visible, staring out of his pubic hair like an egg in a nest, the small knob tiny and hidden with his humiliation.

He has been whipped too, and his legs and ass and back are striped red from the lash. There are a couple of big welts across his chest, and at least one on his cheek. His left nipple has been ripped, and while it is clotted now it has bled some and there is little doubt he still feels the burn. They have not been kind to him, and he is well marked.

God. It almost looks like he is looking in my direction, but since I’m standing by the vertical post that will hold his beam I’m sure it’s that, and where he’s going that is holding his gaze and has nothing to do with me. I wonder though, is he anxious to get here to end the long walk and the agony of the weight he is carrying, or is his look one of dread knowing what is waiting for him when he gets here?

He too is sweating. Both men have been walking for close to a mile, out from the main city gate and along the road that leads to the ravine. The crossbeams they carry are huge, and probably weigh close to a hundred pounds. There is no mercy from the guards escorting them, and no mercy from the crowd that watches them pass by. Arthin has a lot of body hair, a great big burley man, and I look into his eyes and for a second he looks back. As I stare at him it occurs to me that he will die here, where I am standing, and as he gets closer I cannot help but wonder what that must feel like to him.

He looks away, and I am glad. Both men are straining, sweating, as they stagger under the weight of the big timbers that are lashed across their shoulders. These are heavy beams, and it is on them they will hang until they die. Big beams, square and rough cut, and where the have rubbed across their backs the skin has become raw and reddened from their long walk.

They are close now. Several of the city’s guards are waiting next to the two posts that are sticking out of the ground. They do not seem to be anxious, or eager, but are waiting patiently for the two prisoners to arrive so they can get it done. Milen stops, and sees them waiting, and when he does he hesitates, not wanting to go forward anymore.

CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!

CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!

The whip cuts the air like a knife, and he screams, and staggers onward, the two cuts with the whip stripping across his naked ass and one ripping clear around him, a red welt rising right through his matt of pubic hair. His eyes are staring up now, as he staggers. Twenty feet. Ten. Then, at the same time, they are here, in front of me, and the guards I am next to. Milen glances to me, and for a brief second our eyes meet and I sense the recognition. He looks down, and his face flushes red with shame.

Several of the guards take Milen then, grabbing his crossbeam first, and they pull him down by his big beam so that he is flat on his back and staring up at the hot sun. I am so close I can see the hairs growing around his nipples, and his thick mat of blond hair above his cock. I saw him naked a long time ago, when he was thirteen and we were swimming. We were just boys then, and I remember his little dick and his wisp of hair that had started to grow across his groin. I guess I remember that day because of the ribbing we gave him.

Well, he’s grown a bush since then, and now it’s damp from his sweat. There is also sweat on his belly and his legs are even dripping. He has a dusting of light blond hair on his legs. His chest is smooth, and his dime-sized nipples are pointed and firm. His face is smooth as well, with only a wisp of hair on his upper lip.

He looks young for his age, like a teenager ready for his first date. That thought makes me look downward, and there his sac of nuts is round and full, his twin orbs that got him into so much trouble are hanging down between his legs. They are round and full, and hanging underneath his nub of a cock. His balls have grown a lot bigger since I saw them last. As I look at them I wonder if he will keep his balls, or if they will take them as part of his punishment. I haven’t been told, or heard, and so as I stare at them I am thinking of the question and trying to make a guess as to an answer. Since his crime is sexual in nature, I suspect he will not die a man. At least, I don’t think he will. I wonder if that has occurred to him?

Two of the big guards have his left arm, one holding downward on is hand and the other smashing his arm into the beam. He is mumbling…”NO! PLEASE…PLEASE…NOT…DON’T…OH….”

Then, as I watch, they are holding a spike, and it is made of iron and is fat and thick and long. A third guard sets the spike right on his wrist, just back from the joint, and presses it downward into his arm, so that the point of it makes an indentation there. It’s a square peg, and is at least five eights of an inch thick all along its shank. Milen opens his eyes, and sees it, and then he looks at the man with the mallet…and then suddenly the guards hand is in motion and he slams the heavy mallet down, hard, smashing it into the end of the spike and driving the long piece of thick metal straight through Milen’s wrist.

“AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Milen screams and his entire body jerks, and he tries to sit upright the shock is so great. His body shudders, and he is then screaming and screaming and screaming. I’ve never heard a man scream like he is screaming then, screaming at the top of his lungs. As he screams the big guard slams the mallet down into the nail again, and then again, pounding it through his arm and into the wood, until it is imbedded as far as it will go. I stare at the nail that has been driven through his wrist, and it has a big flat head on it and its pressed right up against the flesh. His wrist is clinched, but it is spasming in an almost unnatural jerking movement, out of control, just jerking and rippling. His fingers spasm open and closed and open and closed. He screams like a madman as he jerks and struggles with every muscle in his body.

He is trying to move his right arm then, to get it out of the way, and he is jerking it against the ropes that bind it to the beam. He’s desperate, and trying to get it loose. Just then the three guards grab it, and as they do he bucks his hips and arches his back, his legs flailing as he struggles like a maniac. God he doesn’t want them to nail it too! He starts begging them, begging them in great heaving sobs, with a desperation that knows no bounds. They ignore his pleas, and instead go right to their task. It happens then, in spite of his begging and the screams he is making. I see it all. The nail is set in place, right in his right wrist, and then, the hammer is once again a blur, the heavy iron mallet slamming downward, hitting the nail head squarely and driving it right through the man’s wrist and into the great wooden beam. He screams anew; a cold chilling blood curdling scream that doesn’t even sound human. I’ve never heard anything like it, and I don’t think anyone else has either. The guards pound the nail again and again until it is set and the entire shank is buried as far as it will go.

His partner in crime has fallen to his knees, the shock of watching his friend getting nailed to the cross beam more than he can bear. He tried to turn, to run away, even with his beam tied to his own arms. The guards leave the younger man writhing on the ground, nailed to the big beam, with his legs flailing and his back arching as he struggles. He can’t get up, and he certainly won’t be going anywhere. They turn then to the older man, who has gotten back up and is staggering away, trying to flee. Of course, with the big crossbeam he’s lashed to he can’t really run, and the guards just grab it and use it to drag him backwards, one guard on each end of the beam. Soon, he too, is flat on his back, and as I watch they nail him in the same manner as they did his friend.

“NNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOO!” he screams.” “No….NO!!!!!” Don’t…PLEASE DON’t NAIL ME!!!!”

Of course, they ignore his pleas, and if anything, his begging excites the crowd. Suddenly he screams “FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!” when the first nail penetrates his wrist, and he slams his head backwards in frustration and beats it against the wooden beam that he is being attached to. He pisses himself then, the yellow stream just squirting out of his nub of a cock, spraying out of control and then he just empties his bladder, muddying the dirt between his legs.

He stares but says nothing after that, sucking up the pain instead, and just staring at the sky as he listens to his friend still screaming next to him. Finally, his cock stops pissing, and after that he just stares, and mumbles. He turns his head as the guards take his other wrist, and in a whisper he is begging.

“Please…please don’t nail it….just use the rope. PLEASE MAN…JUST USE THE ROPE!”

He begs and begs and begs. Still, even as he begs, there is nothing he can do to prevent the next nail from being pounded through his other wrist, and as it happens the shock of it is so great that his lips open in spite of his attempts to keep them closed. After that he too is screaming, just a wild, open, and piercing scream unlike anything you can imagine. As I stare at both men, screaming in their hideous ways, I can see their hands still jerking in wild spasms, the nerves obviously damaged and from their expressions of misery hurting now in a way that can’t even really be imagined.

The guards are smiling though, and they seem to be enjoying themselves. The crowd has formed a circle around the area where they will be crucified, and I am as close as anyone. The guards have two long rods, made of wood, and they almost look like they have been taken from the staff from a spear. They are round and fat, with a thicker base that tapers upward toward the end. On the average they each look to be about two inches in diameter, and are about two and a half feet long. They are stout little poles, but it is the ends of them that catch my eye. One end on each rod has been carved into what looks almost like a lemon, a big bulbous end that is round and big, and tapering to a point. At its thickest point the lemon-shaped end is almost the size of a teenager’s fist. I am trying to figure out what these short poles are for, but I have no idea. Are they going to beat them with these clubs? They are slightly curved, almost like the horn from an animal, although they are made of wood and are not as smooth as a horn would be.

Someone calls out what I am thinking: “What are those?” One of the guards looks up, and grins, and then he says “They’re sediles. Watch, and you’ll see.” The guards move to the older and bigger of the two men then, with his hairy, bearded face. Two of the guards each grab an ankle of the bigger man, and then they stretch his legs apart, wide apart, a third guard holding one of the wooden horn-shaped dowels. I notice the man’s hair is thick on his body, and his legs have a thick down on them that seems to emphasize his manliness. As they spread his legs I am staring at the short little pole in the guard’s hand, and for a brief second when I see his round little sac of balls I think they are going to smash his testicles with the little club they are holding.

Arthin feels them pulling his legs apart too, but he seems consumed by the pain in his wrists and doesn’t seem to really notice. The guards next lift his legs then, upwards, pulling his legs forward so his feet are stretched over his head. As they do that, I am staring at his pink hole. He’s got a big hole. His rosebud of an ass is pink, and it too is ringed with black curly hair. Then, as I watch, another guard takes the little pole and pushes the big, fat end, the one that looks like a lemon, right up against the man’s hole. I can’t believe what I am seeing, but I am so close that I do see it. I am close enough to see that the fat end has been greased up with tallow, and it glistens.

The guard pushes, hard, and Arthin notices it then and screams even louder. He clinches shut the muscles in his ass, to attempt to keep out the invader. It doesn’t do him any good. Suddenly the guard gives the pole a twist, and at the same time he pushes hard, putting his weight forward and into the pole. As I watch, the lemon-shaped end just pops past the pink ring of muscle and after that the big lemon sized end fills his hole, and disappears from my view inside of his ass. As his ass swallows the big piece of wood, the expression on the big man’s face is priceless, and I will never forget it. I don’t think Arthin can believe it then, and he continues to scream, but with a new and even more desperate intensity, his entire asshole now stuffed with a wooden dowel rod and the big lemon-sized end filling him up without mercy. He’s a man wild and in misery then, jerking and fighting and screaming, nailed in place and now with a wooden rod jutting out of his ass like a stuffed turkey that has been skewered for the fire.

There is another effect that seems to happen almost simultaneously with the intrusion of the big dowel into his rectum. His tiny cock, which was a little humiliated knob almost hidden in his nest of pubic hair just a few minutes before, is thicker now, and as I watch it the man’s cock grows. It seems to grow from nothing, getting longer and longer, and then it’s jutting upward, the stimulation from the big rod in his ass more than he can ignore. His little cock just seems to grow like a small tree, getting thicker and longer and soon enough it has grown much longer than I would have thought possible from the tiny nub he had displayed before. A few in the audience gasp as it enlarges so obscenely. Surprisingly, he’s got a big, fat cock, and as the foreskin retracts, I can see his big mushroom head of his dick as it comes into view in front of everyone.

One of the guards mocks him, and says: “I see you like a rod in your ass.” They guards all laugh then, as do some of the crowd that heard it, and then they turn their attention to the blond. When the younger man sees them coming he starts jerking and fighting. Milen sure doesn’t want one of those shoved up his hole! However, when he tries to pull his arms he screams, and the pain shoots through him. I can immediately tell he can’t do anything with his arms, as it hurts way too much to move them in any manner or in any direction.

He’s helpless. He certainly can’t do anything to keep the guards from lifting his legs and spreading his hole. The younger man’s hole is smaller though, and it’s wrinkled and clamped shut oh-so-tight. It is quite apparent to me that the big lemon end won’t fit. I think the guard knows it too, and he hesitates then as he eyes the boy’s hole and the bigger piece of wood that is meant for it. There is no way it can fit….but then, the guard holding it against his hole, picks up the mallet, the same mallet he used to nail the prisoner to his crossbeam.

As I watch, I can hardly believe what I see. With a hard slam he takes the mallet and then drives it directly into the other end of the wooden dowel, hitting it square and so hard that it literally drives the fat end right into his rectum, much like a nail is driven into a piece of wood.

Milen screams, and jerks, tying to slam his legs together as the pain of the invader fills his rectum. Simultaneously, the wooden rod disappears into Milen’s hole, his ring of muscle tearing in order to accommodate it. The guards don’t seem to care, and they even laugh as the rod pops past the young man’s asshole and is driven in place. Surprisingly, the young man’s dick goes hard too, rock hard, and it rises up so fast that it’s hard to believe. After that it juts up and outward and then it just bobs to his heartbeat.

Both men are screaming again now, arching their backs and screaming as if there is no tomorrow coming. Suddenly, in only a few minutes, the world for the two prisoners has been reduced to the pain in their wrists and the pain in their ass. There is nothing else but wrists and hole, wrists and hole, wrists and hole. OH GOD HOW THEY ARE SCREAMING! They are freaking too, and in panic, and yet as the quiver and struggle there is nothing at all they can do, except to live the experience of their own execution and wait for death to overtake them.

Suddenly, there are more guards, and they are lifting the two beams upward, with the men nailed to them struggling as it is being done. The pain of course for each of them intensifies a hundred fold as they are lifted, and I can tell that the men are going crazy from it. At first they are lifted to their knees, and then their feet, and dragged over toward the vertical posts that will hold the beams. There are several crude ladders next to the posts, and as I watch the guards use the ladders to hoist up the cross pieces, with the men nailed to them, and sit them into a groove on the top of each of the vertical poles that are affixed into the ground.

There are enough guards that the task seems to go easily. The prisoners’ feet are both flailing, and as they hang from their wrists they are screaming even louder, as if that is possible. It’s a totally inhuman cry now, and the shriek is so loud and so fearsome that the hairs on my neck prickle. I stare at the old man with his beard, and it is obvious he can’t believe what he is feeling. I can see him struggling, his back arching and his feet kicking, scissoring the air as his life and misery become one and the same.

Finally, the beams are affixed in place, and the two men are hanging from their crosses, next to one another, their feet kicking the air and struggling, almost as if they are desperate to reach the ground. As I watch, the guards then go to Milen. Two guards each grab a leg, and then they are lifting him, and for a second you can sense the relief in him as the weight is lifted off of his wrists and the nails that are through them. I can’t figure out what they are doing. Then, as they lift him very high, I suddenly can see why and have it all figured out. As they do that, one of them guides the end of the wooden dowel that is jutting from his ass, and they manoeuvre the prisoner until they get it aligned where they need it to go. Finally, the guard holding the end of the rod guides the shaft into an angled hole that is in the vertical post and has been drilled to accommodate it.

Once it is in place, they lower the man being crucified back downward, letting him slide downward once again until he is hanging by his wrists again. Only this time his weight pushes him downward onto the pole that has been impaled in his ass, and which now is affixed to the vertical beam that supports the cross bar. So, this sedile, as the guard called it, is a seat of sorts and it can’t be comfortable. In fact, in a very real way, it appears to me that he is being fucked as he is being crucified. The sedile is crude, and as it impales him he can do nothing but kick his feet and try to lift himself upward with his arms to keep it from ramming into his prostate.

The guards aren’t done with him though. They grab his left foot, and pin it against the side of the cross, with his knee bent so that the bare foot is lifted. They point the toe of the food downward, and then, with Milen’s knee bent the way they want, they hold it there. Then as I watch they push another big spike right against the man’s heel. Milen looks down, just as the big hammer is driven against it, hard, the big spike driving straight through his heel bone and into the side of the cross he is being crucified on.

Milen screams, and his body shudders. Three more blows with the hammer set the nail all the way in, so that the flat head of it is flush with his heel. The guards laugh, and then they reach over and grab the other foot then, and lift it up and point the toes downward, so that it is in the same position as his other foot but on the other side of the vertical post of his cross. When they have that foot too in the awkward position they want it in, they drive another nail through the heel of it as well, affixing his right foot to the right side of the vertical beam of the cross.

And then they step back, and let him struggle and scream. The guards admire their handiwork, and smile as they watch the prisoner struggle. He can’t flail his legs anymore, and instead he screams and jerks. He tries to take the pressure off of his wrists, and the rod in his ass, by rising upward, using the muscles in his bent legs to do it. As he does he screams from the new pain in his heels and feet. He supports himself in that way, but his legs are quivering, and in their awkward position he can’t straighten them fully.

He can only hold himself upward for a short while, and as he does so the pain from the spikes in his heels shoots up and down his legs. His eyes are wide, and he’s gasping, then he screams anew as he falls down again and hangs from his wrists. As he falls down the rod inside his ass slams into his prostate, and for a moment it looks like he will vomit. That motion elicits a new scream, from the shocking, electrical pain that emanates from his wrists. He’s in agony, total agony, that seems to have no limit and certainly for him no end.

He jerks upward once again, and then again and again. As he struggles he inadvertently slides his young hard body up and down over the dowel in his ass. His cock gets even harder, and it begins to ooze a line of drool, almost like snot drips from a runny nose, hanging down and swinging in the air in a clear line as he fights and struggles.

The crowd is watching, and they giggle with glee, pointing to the young man’s cock and watching him as he fights the cross. They are enjoying his crucifixion, and are happy to see his misery. His hard cock seems to confirm his guilt, and many in the crowd are shocked at his audacity to display it in such a crude and public manner.

There are other guards and they are also working on Arthin, affixing him to his cross and finishing up the preliminaries to his crucifixion. I watch without moving as they set the dowel in place and then nail Arthin’s heels in the same manner as his friends. After that, the two men struggle in their individual misery, yet side by side, each jerking up and down as they shift their pain from their feet to the wrists to their feet to their wrists. At the same time their rectums are stuffed with the fat knobs of wood, and as they fall down and the wooden plums slam into their prostates their eyes open wide and their entire bodies spasm. It less than a few minutes both men have sprouted huge boners, that jut obscenely. They seem to waive at everyone, the women and the men and the children. As they bob and twitch I can’t help but look at them and think of the little girl that they harmed.

Small signs announcing their crime are placed over their heads, and after that there is nothing left to do but to watch and to wait. At first they struggle and thrash like two wild men, the pain making them panic to find some position for relief. Of course, there is no relief, for either of them, and they thrash out and jerk in rapid movements, literally slamming their bottoms up and down on the wooden rods that impale them. The jerk and scream and beg, and yet there is nothing they can do. There wild motions stir laughter from the crowd.

We all just watch, and I’ve never looked at two more miserable human beings. I am surprised at how little blood there is, and I can see that their crucifixion will not be quick, at least not from bleeding to death as I would have thought. I just watch the motion that they make, as they do not sit still. The screams taper off though; the effort to scream greater than the stamina it takes to make the sound. After about twenty minutes or so their wild and desperate motions slow down somewhat, and it isn’t too much longer after that that the younger of the two sags forward, his arms unable to pull him upright. He seems to pause, and for a long minute just stares downward, at the ground and us that are watching him. His cock still bounces, and seems to be oozing a steady line of precum, a line of goo that catches the light.

I’ve never seen a harder man and I can tell he’s humiliated just by the look of shame across his face. He locks eyes with me, but looks away. Then as I watch he uses his leg muscles and pushes himself upward, his chest heaving then. He holds himself in that position, wincing from the pain for several long seconds, and then, his thigh muscles give out and he falls down defeated and gasps as his wrists take the strain at the nails. His right arm seems to have stretched at the shoulder, and a few minutes later it happens to the left one as well. He bangs his head back and slams in into the cross, the feeling of it too much for him. His shoulders have become dislocated, and that has intensified his agony.

I can see he’s already having trouble breathing, and yet he struggles, lifting himself up every few minutes. Apparently, he has to rise up to exhale and to breathe, and so he has to suffer the pain of it every time he does so. Each time he pushes up on his nailed feet it causes searing bolts of agony to travel up his legs. I move to the side, and I notice that when he pulls himself upward, to take his breath, he raises nearly off the wooden cock like post in his ass. But not quite. The big fat end stays inside, and he can’t quite rise high enough to pop it out. Frustrated, and unable to hold himself up any longer, he eventually sags down again, forcing himself down on the crude peg that is fucking his virgin hole. I smile. A few minutes later he repeats this excruciating cycle, literally fucking himself in the process, and as I watch I can see that each motion he is making is stimulating his prostate and making his cock grow even thicker as I watch.

I have never seen an erection like I am seeing now. Both of their cocks are just so thick, and every vein is protruding and they are engorged completely with blood. The men’s cocks are simply huge, and obscene looking, and as they jut into the air and pulsate, they seem almost alive. They are both oozing precum, and the crowd mocks them and laughs at the two men and their bouncing dicks, jutting up for everyone to see. Their jutting cocks seems to emphasize the guilt of their crime.

After another half-hour of going up and down on his cross, Milen looks at me…and his eyes go wide and then he gasps. As he does so, the twenty year old ejaculates, the motion of the rod in his ass just too much for him to stop. His face goes bright red as he sees me staring at him. He slams his head back, and then he is squirting out ropes of cum, pumping it out from his big nutsac while everyone watches. Although he’s young, he’s quite a man, with quite a load. He looks away from me, and his eyes lock with a young girl who is looking back at him, taking his stare, and his face flushes even redder with the embarrassment of what he is doing in front of her.

Nearby, a group of school girls laughs hysterically, seeing the man shooting his wad in front of them without anything touching his cock. He hears them too, and his face is so red with shame it looks to be painted. Even so he continues to empty his nuts, unable to stop himself, grunting out his load of jism even as he is being crucified. Interestingly, as he squirts he needs to breathe, and so he rises upward again, for another breath, the pain from the nails through his heels shooting through his legs as he does.

He screams “Oh..ahhh…ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH” as he takes his breath, and then, he grunts and falls back down, hard, stopped only by the nails in his wrists and the wooden pole in his ass. As he fucks his ass with the rod yet again his squirting cock pumps out even more.

When his balls are empty one of the guard soldiers, an officer, approaches him with a long thong of leather. The man hanging watches, staring, and then he starts to beg as the solider makes a loop and wraps it around the man’s sac of nuts. He wraps it tight, very tight, and high, and then he makes a knot and jerks it closed with a snap. He pulls it so tight that Milen grunts, and his legs strain as he tries to pull his knees together. It’s a useless gesture, and as his balls are trapped with the cord I can see them darken, almost instantly, the blood now no longer nourishing what makes him a man.

He stares downward, I think in disbelief at what has just been done to him. The guard pulls the ends of the leather up above his cock, and makes another knot there, constricting his pole at the base. He looks to his right then, at another guard, a young teenage male with a wisp of hair adorning his upper lip. The boy solider hands the guard a heavy stone, which has been wrapped and tied with several ties and which has a long leather cord hanging off of it. The guard takes the stone from the boy, and forms a slip knot in the end of the leather, which as we all watch he then loops up and over the sac of balls that is waiting for it. The man on the cross watches all of this happening, the big stone now literally tied to his nuts. The guard holds the rock in his hands, between his palms, which is tied to the man’s scrotum with the slip knot. The prisoner looks at him, stares, and then says “Please…don’t….don’t do this. Not my balls!”

The guard grins, and answers: “When you die you will not be a man.” As he says the last word, he drops the heavy stone, and just before it hits the ground it is stopped by the cord. There is a sudden jerk, and the man’s balls take the entire load of the heavy stone, stretching out from the weight of it. He screams and stares downward then, and after that he shudders as his nuts are almost pulled from his body. The crowd likes it, and is giggling, and there are more taunts then about how he looks with his balls tied and hanging so low.

Through all of this his prick stays hard, and a line of clear cum still drools from the end. Of course, with the cord going up and over his cock the blood is trapped within it. The line of goo is glistening in the light, hanging there, the last remnants of the man’s final wad now spurted and wasted in the dirt below. His nuts darken further as I watch, and it’s obvious they are being strangled. I can tell it hurts too, and the man stares and shakes, and yet he is in so much misery and so much pain there is nothing he can do about any of it.

He screams again, and shudders, and then lifts himself upward, heaving, pulling air in and out of his lungs. Finally, collapsing once again, he falls downward with a slam and a grunt as he bottoms out on the big lemon sized plug in his ass. As he does so the rock starts swinging, pulling his nuts back and forth as they dangle down lower than I would have thought was possible.

Suddenly, Arthin, the older man, jerks up and down and up and down, fast, as if he’s trying to shake himself from the cross. He’s watched all of this, and now he’s in a total panic, screaming like a madman, jerking and slamming his head again and again and again into his post. God he does not want to lose his balls! His wild gyrations and jerking on the cross causes the rod to move in his ass like a piston, and the rapid up and down motion has an immediate and unintended consequence for him.

He feels the feeling, but it’s too late to stop when he does, and after that he arches his back and screams, and then his big cock too just starts to pulsate and suddenly he is squirting out his own thick ropes of cream. He struggles as he shoots, and rises up, high, almost as if he’s desperate to get that pole out of his ass. He can’t quite pull himself up that far, the nails in his heels keeping him down. I can see he is straining with his arms to do it though, pulling his weight upward in spite of the pain of doing so.

He wants that rod out of his ass! He almost makes it happen, and he gets high enough that I can see his hole stretching, puckered outward from the big inner lemon sized end. But that’s as far as he gets. He grunts, screams again, and stands there then, his legs and arms straining, his hole quivering in spasmodic pulsations that are timed with his cock that now squirts his goo.

He doesn’t move, but just struggles, squirming, trying as hard as he can to lift himself just a little further. But he can’t, and then, defeated, he slumps down and collapses, his ass sliding all the way down the rod until the end bottoms into his prostate. He grunts then, and squirts even more, his big load squirting out in lines of white that paints the ground with his final load of seed.

He has everyone’s attention then, and all eyes watch until he has pumped himself dry.

As soon as he is finished the guard is there, holding the tie of leather that the man knows is meant for him. The prisoner shakes his head and tries to beg, but the words are lost as the pain in his wrists shoots through him and takes his voice from him. He stares, and pleads with begging eyes, as the loop is made and the knot is cinched closed with an audible snap. GOD HE DOESN’T LIKE THAT! He bucks his hips, ramming his ass up and down on the rod stuffed inside of his rectum, up and down, as his cinched off nuts scream to him for blood and nourishment. His big cock looks obscenely huge, and there is a bit of white cream still beaded on the end of his meat from his recent ejaculation.

Another stone is brought over, and as the man watches a slip knot is placed over his nuts. This time the teenage solider has been allowed to hold the stone. He’s grinning, and when the man looks at him the boy laughs, as he opens his hands and drops the stone. The man’s eyes go wide then, as he watches the big stone take its fall. Then, with a grunt, his own nuts are taking the weight, and then after that they too are stretched out and hanging low, being pulled downward toward his knees.

He is delirious then with the pain in his wrists and his ankles and his nuts, and there is nothing he can do to stop any of it. Nothing at all. The man’s balls don’t even look human then, the way they are hanging and are stretched so far out. The boy solider is grinning as he stares at the man’s big nuts, cinched off in their sac and how being strangled by the noose that is pulling them down. I notice the boy is hard, stiff in his pants, his cock eager from what he is seeing. There is a round wet spot where the end of his dick is, and I can tell that the youth is very excited. The boy is deep into puberty, and he’s sprouting into manhood. In a very real way, the boy is already far more of a man than either one of these men will ever be again. Suddenly, I am feeling warm and ill. My own balls seem to draw up, tight, perhaps in fear as I watch the heavy stones dangling as they strangle the scrotums of the crucified prisoners.

The afternoon sun climbs in the sky, and I wait with the others and watch the suffering men. Nothing else happens then for several hours. The two condemned men just struggle on their crosses, lifting themselves up and down, up and down, their impaled rectums sliding up the poles that impale them with each and every movement. Their balls are so stretched out, and are soon very dark, their big sac of nuts obviously dying on the vine. Afternoon turns into evening, and then the sun sets and the air cools. Still they struggle, up and down, sucking their air and struggling to stay alive, even though it’s a useless gesture and only prolongs their own agonies. Of course, they do it anyway, adding to their own misery as they stretch out their ends.

At nightfall their scrotums are very dark, almost black, and it is obvious they have been unmanned. They are eunuchs now, castrated, even though their balls are still attached to them and are black and dead. I’m not sure they know it though. The young man, with the string still around his cock, is still rock hard, even so, his big dick sticking up hard and eager. The bigger man, Arthin, has lost his boner, and it’s just a noodle now that is hanging dead and useless. Just before it gets too dark to really see what is happening, some torches are lit, which give the entire area an eerie, glowing appearance.

As soon as that is done, one of the soldiers, very matter-of-factly pulls out a knife from his scabbard, and approaches the big man with his stretched out sac of nuts. He sets his knife between the two ties. He doesn’t say a thing. Then, with a quick movement of his wrist the rock hits the ground and the man’s balls come free. Surprisingly, at this point the castrated man is too weak really to make much of a sound, and perhaps his blackened nuts don’t mean much to him anymore. The guard picks up his severed scrotum, which is still bound by the leather tie and stuffed with his big set of nuts. The guard then ties the loose ends, and loops it around the man’s neck, so that the man being crucified is wearing his own sac, like a necklace, his fat balls dead and useless. It’s a hell of a necklace, and there are many in the crowd that start to laugh.

The younger man, Milen, with his stiff prick, starts to struggle when the guard approaches him with a knife. This time the solider is the young one, the boy with the wisp of a mustache. He’s grown hard in his pants again, and I cannot help smile as I watch his eagerness. Of course, the man on the cross has seen what has just been done, and he sure doesn’t want to lose his balls! Still, they are dead anyway at this point, and there is nothing he can do at any rate to change things or to keep them. Nevertheless, he starts struggling, hard, jerking on his cross and trying to move to prevent it being done to him. He wants to die a man, and the humiliation of everyone watching him be nutted is tearing him apart. Even so, he can’t really do anything. Then, as he watches, the young boy solider sets the blade up between the ties. The moment lingers then, the moment between being a man and being unmanned, between having balls and not.

Everything hangs in the balance, and we all watch as the moment passes. Then, with a quick movement, the boy jerks his wrist and the man screams. The boy grins and then laughs as he makes the slice and pulls the steel straight through the hanging balls. The heavy weight that has been pulling them downward drops to the ground then, and his balls come free in that same instant. A minute later Milen too is wearing his own severed sac of nuts, wearing it around his neck as an example to others. His expression changes, and he seems to give up then, the realization that he is no longer a man ending whatever desire he had to stay alive.

I am staring at Milen, with his sac of dead nuts he is wearing. Then, he looks up at me, staring back. Our eyes lock. Then he surprises me and says: “Please….help me Ashton.”

I can’t describe the feeling…it comes over me then like a sudden cloud, and all of a sudden I feel sick and my heart goes into my throat. God. Fuck. It’s too much for me, and I turn and leave, suddenly feeling sick and with the need to vomit. I almost race to leave, running, heading for the city in a wild run and with no purpose in mind. Why did he ask me????? I just know I want out of there, away from their death and their castration. I enter the gates, and turn to the south, and before I know it I am at the brothels. I don’t think I intended to go there, but it is there that I have gone and I am not unhappy for it. Perhaps it is the need to do the act, to work at making life rather than destroying it that has brought me here. Perhaps I am seeking that. Perhaps.

Whatever the reason, before I really know what I am doing I have made the purchase and have bought a girl. I think I just needed it; badly, perhaps to feel the pleasure of living, to squirt out my cream and fill up the warmth of a willing vagina. We go into the room that has been set for the purpose, and once there I do not hesitate. I am fucking her then, slamming my rock hard cock in and out of her pussy. She grunts, and takes it, telling me to “slow down..SLOW DOWN” she says. But I don’t want to fuck her slow…I am feeling something I can’t describe, and so instead I fuck her fast and furiously, and with a vengeance as I squeeze her tits and almost mash them in my hands. Faster and faster I move my hips, until my back is sweating, sweating like the men on their crosses. I gasp for air, like they gasp, and then I arch my back and unload my wad, deep, pumping it out in a giant load of cream, filling her pussy with what has to be one of the biggest wads of my life. Even so, as I am shooting, I am thinking of them, of their balls being stretched out and pulled by the heavy stones, and then cut away to make them eunuchs. I can see their own cocks squirting into the dirt; pumping out their last wads as they grunt and jerk. OH GOD I AM CUMMING THEN!

With a payment of seventy degos and I am out of there, my cock sore from the intensity of my fucking. The girl is angry but I do not care. I have no idea what to do, or where to go. I find a bar, and have a beer, and then another and another after that. I still feel ill, and the drinks don’t help. I find myself thinking of the two men, of the little girl they killed and of the crosses they are nailed to. I close my eyes, and see them still, hanging, hanging on their crosses as they struggle and jerk and twist and cry. I see the hammer coming down, pounding, POUNDING the nails through their wrists and listening to them scream and scream and scream. I think of them, unmanned now, and know that there is nothing left for them but to die, and I find myself wishing that it is done already. For some reason I imagine it is so. Later, as I am walking the street, the sun breaks the horizon.

Slowly I realize that I have to go back, to see it done, to know the thing is done and their suffering is ended. So, before I know it I find myself once again out of the city and taking the road back to where I had run from not so long ago. Why? Why do I go back? Perhaps it is because I have to know, to know they are dead and their suffering has ended.

When I reach them though they are still alive. Almost everyone has left, and there is almost no one watching them now. A few guards, who are bored, and appear to be just waiting too for this all to end. As I approach the two men, hanging there, I am surprised to see them both breathing still. The older of the two looks like a living dead man, hanging from his cross. Milen looks stronger, but he too is just hanging quietly, rising up to take a few breathes every few minutes or so. It’s obvious that the pain has intensified if anything, and there has been no relief for either of them. They have suffered all night while I have fucked a girl and gone to the bars. I notice that the big man’s shoulders have become dislocated too, sometime in the night, and his arms have stretched out and he hangs forward and out from his cross. He doesn’t seem to have the strength to even lift his head. His sac of balls is still around his neck, but it is black now and there are a few morning flies even laying their eggs on it. Still, he makes a movement, rising up, his lungs heaving in a few breaths, before he falls back yet again and hangs with a grunt. His hands are clinched inward, almost in a fist, drawn in and useless. There is drool coming out of his mouth, and there is dried blood on his nose.

I stare at him. He barely breathes, and he drools from his mouth. I look away, and stare at the sun that is low in the horizon, feeling the chill of the morning. Off in the distance I hear the birds chirping. I look back at him. I wait, wait for him to force himself up once again and to suck in another breath. But he doesn’t move, and instead just hangs, staring downward, his eyes open like two orbs of glass. Still he makes no movement, and I find myself staring at his severed nuts that he wears like jewellery. I wonder how many women they have filled with cream. I wonder.

His cock hangs like a dead worm, and it looks small and unimportant. I look at it and try and imagine it as it was last night, when it was jutting and proud. As I stare at it I find it hard to comprehend him using it to fuck the girl, or any girl. It’s just such a little, useless cock now. I look at his face, and at his thick, scraggly beard, and I find myself wondering what he would look like with a shave. I wait. I start to say something, but I don’t really know what to say to him. He doesn’t look at me. Instead, his eyes stare into space. He doesn’t even try to lift himself, and his face is grimaced from the pain.

I stare back at his cock, and then, in a surprise, it starts pissing, emptying his bladder into a puddle below his cross. I step back. He makes no movement, and no sound, and his eyes stare at the ground and do not blink. Still he pisses until his bladder is empty. A long time passes, and I wait for him to move or to struggle, to make the effort to exhale once again. But nothing happens. Nothing, and it is then, THEN, that I realize that he is gone.

I want to run. I’ve never seen a man die, and now that I have I do not like it. I move my eyes away from him, away from the dead man, to the other man, the man I know who is still alive and still struggling to breathe. Up and down he goes, stretched out and trying to breathe, fighting the pain that still shoots through him. It is all too clear now that he too is dying on his cross. His movements are almost mechanical now, well-practiced even in a way. He has the required movement of his crucifixion down, rising up to breathe and back down to rest. The hangman’s dance; a death dance, that goes on and on and on. It is the dance of the cross.

I can tell that the pain still shoots through him with every motion, and yet he moves just the same in spite of it. He has no choice, because he has to move to breathe, so he does, and feels the pain with every breath. The pain is overwhelming. He is crazed with it and delirious from the intensity. Still, he makes the movement, drawing out his struggles and living his torture with no hope for reprieve. Up and down; the big push against the nails in his ankles, rising him upward. Immediately afterwards, there is the quick breath at the top, the collapse of his leg muscles followed by the little grunt when his wrists take his weight. Finally, the big gasp when the rod in his ass rams his prostate. Up and down, again and again and again. Will it never end for him? He has lots of strength left, way too much really, and it is quite obvious that he will be at this for a long time coming. I don’t know what to do. I do not need to see him die.

I take a last look, and it amazes me that his cock is hard. I see the leather tie around it, and perhaps that explains his erection. The young man has a big cock, and long, and even though he’s been castrated the leather tie has trapped the blood and has kept him stiff. There is quite a bit of his semen between his knees, and perhaps he’s ejaculated again, even without his balls while I was gone. I can’t be certain. I remember being told once that if a man dies with a boner, that it may well set up that way. I take a final look at it, and at his severed balls hanging from his neck. The end of his cock is fat, and round, although without his balls it looks odd and out of place. I let the image of it linger. It is enough of a memory, and I know at this point there is no point in watching him die.

He says nothing any more, and does not look up and I do not think he is even aware of my presence. Help me he had asked. Help me. God….how can anyone help a condemned man? I walk to the officer, the guard who seems to be in control. I look around, and there is no one really watching. I lean over to him, and I am shaking, and then, then I open my hand and show him the money. He stares at me, and says nothing. Slowly, he looks at me and ask: “What is it that you want?”

I answer him then, not even sure of what I am saying: “I…..I just want him to die. He’s suffered long enough. He’s a friend.”

The officer stares at me for a long time, and then he reaches out and takes the money from my hand. He looks at it. One thousand degos. He nods, and then he says: “OK.” Then he says: “I can make it happen faster, but it will still take a while. He’s a strong one.”

I nod. It is all I can ask. He walks away then, and picks up a heavy iron bar, and I know then that he is going to break Milen’s legs so he will die. I have to wonder what I have bought. It seems a strange kind of favour. Still, it is all I can do.

I leave then, and I do not look back. I hear the blows being struck in the distance, and his screams, and I know that it is done. Without his legs, Milen will be unable to hoist himself up, and so it will be harder to breathe and soon enough it will be over and the peace of death will take him. Still, I am not certain that it is a favour I have bought. I feel ill, very ill. I return to the city gate, and wonder around for a while aimlessly. I find a coffee shop, and savour the brew and try to stay focused. As the sun rises the city comes to life and begins to bustle. It’s a big slaving day, with lots of purchases being made, and with the market going in full swing I decide to go there to keep my mind occupied. So, I find myself in the slave yards and watching things there. I need to see things, and be with a crowd to get my mind off of the horror of what I have seen. I wonder around the auctions, and work my way to the area where the newly purchased slaves are being made ready for their owners. There is quite a group waiting to be nutted, and I decide to watch the action as I need to get my mind off of the two crucified men.

I sit down in an open spot by one of the castration tables, just to rest my feet I think, and watch then as one after the other some slaves are brought in to be cut. Boy they don’t want to lose their balls! One after the other they are tied to the table, their legs spread wide and their arms tied out. Helpless, they fight and jerk and struggle to keep their nuts. I watch but there is no fun in it for me this day. Still, I watch, as the men are gagged one after the other and their balls are tied. I see them struggle and jerk and twist as their nuts are excised and they are unmanned. Two out of three ejaculate when they are cut, or just before, and so I try to keep my mind on that and I play a game of guessing who will and who won’t.

One younger man fights especially hard, and his blond hair and blue eyes remind me of the man I left still alive and hanging on the cross. He yells until he is gagged, and then after that he screams and grunts into his gag while they tie his balls and begin his unmanning. The boy is probably eighteen or so, and he fights with a strength that only a youth being nutted has. I watch him, and want him. I notice my own dick is hard in my pants, The cutter takes his time with him, and cuts out his testicles individually, opening his sac on each side and pushing out the nuts before he snips them off. The boy shoots his wad when his first ball is snipped, and that makes the cutter smile. Afterwards, the empty sac that remains looks odd, and funny, like an empty purse from which the money has been taken. The boy’s balls go into the castration bucket, along with scores of others.

After he is done the next man catches my eye. He is a soldier, from the eastern war, and it’s obvious he has been enslaved as a result of his capture. Boy he is fighting then, and he’s such a powerful man, with a huge set of nuts, that it’s hard to imagine anyone could even dare to harm him. Yet tied down, he too is helpless. For some reason a female cutter nuts him, and perhaps his new owner requested it to be done that way. I don’t know, and don’t care really. Still, it’s interesting to watch as the girls petite hands hold his fat sac, fondling it, before she pushes in her little knife and makes the slit that begins his unmanning.

The big slave bucks his hips and grunts into his gag, and it’s obvious that he doesn’t want to be unmanned. As she cuts him and pops out his ball, the man grunts and arches his back and then he starts to ejaculate. I don’t know why many men do that when they are being cut, but many do, and he is no exception. He squirts out his big load as she takes his balls, one after the other, and after that he collapses without any hope. Nutted, the fight is gone from him, and I can tell right away that it was a good move and will go a long way to keep him under control. After they are done with him, I have seen enough and I am too tired to watch any more.

My mind won’t focus. For some reason I keep thinking of the two eunuchs on their crosses. As I leave, to find my bed and to take my rest, I know that I will have to make the trip outside the city one more time, to see the end before I will be able to get this behind me. But I will not do it today. No, I will let today become tomorrow, and perhaps tomorrow after that. By the time I do go he will be dead too, nailed and dead on his cross beside his partner in crime. They will hang there then, side by side, until they both have rotted to nothing and their bones have been picked clean by the birds. Well, so be it. I try to remind myself that they deserved their fate.

When I get home I summon for my house slave, and tell the boy to strip and make himself ready. Four years ago I bought him, when he was just fourteen and barely into puberty. I had him nutted when I made his purchase, and since then he serves me around the house and I treat him well. Not having a wife, I bought him for the house, and I do not generally share a bed with him. Still, for some reason I feel the need, and crave the need to be close to another person.

I think he senses it, and he does not protest, even though I think he does not wish to do as I say. I don’t care. I lay on my back, and draw the eighteen year old teenager to me. I give him a kiss, and his face flushes red. I pull him to me, and push my tongue in between his lips, letting it linger there. He gets the idea, and sucks in my tongue and I hold him tight.

I pull my head away and stare into the teenager’s eyes. They are so full of life! Then I whisper into his ear: “I need you. Satisfy me.” Slowly, I push him down. He knows his place, and I do not have to instruct him further. I feel him open his mouth and suck in my pole, and I close my eyes then, and feel his soft mouth sucking, pulling on my cock until it is stiff and hard. The boy’s delicate hands fondle my balls, tickling them as he sucks on my pole. I make him suck me harder then, and as I feel his tongue and listen to him licking my pole, I am finally able to get the thoughts out of my head.

Finally, there is nothing else but my cock and the boy and my cock and the boy. He sucks me faster then, and I tilt my head back and let the feeling come, creeping up through my body until heaven touches earth and I am squirting out my cream. As I get the feeling, and my body shudders as the young eunuch swallows my load, I suddenly realize that it is over and they are both finally dead. I don’t know how I know, but I know. It’s then, at that moment, when I am squirting out my load that the tears come in a flood.

 


One comment

    • topdreams-
    • 18th September 2022 at 4:31 pm-
    • Reply

    BRAVO! This was both well written and it made my shorts tent up with a full stiffy.

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