crucified; a woman goes to her cross in the pinewoods
She’d offended them, no doubt about it. That was why she was kept alone in the small room at the back of the building, out of sight, out of mind . . . and most assuredly out of circulation. She could communicate with no one.
Her fate, she was told, had been decided and the punishment would be exacted the following day. It was just as well, she thought, as then she could get back into her normal run of life. She thought . . .
Escape was impossible. Not only was there a constantly changing and moving guard, but she was kept naked in her confinement; just as well the weather was warm. She spent he time wondering, wondering how the hell she came to be in this predicament, how she would get out of it and in the meantime, what were these bozos planning to do with her.
As it was getting dark, she found out the plan. Not by any informed guesswork or analysis, but because she was told and shown the plans. She didn’t like them one iota.
Nobody had abused her whilst a prisoner, she was given food, water and protection. These people were not a bunch of self-indulgent, out-of-control ne’er-do-wells. Oh no, they were much worse.
She was given a sheet of clean, white, cotton material with which to wrap herself for the outside excursion. At the same time two other pieces were put in her room, a wide piece of the same material and a longer, narrow piece. She was told to make herself knickers, a loin-cloth, or some such covering for her belly and bum, for when the main event took place later. She’d experiment on her return from the short trip on which they were taking her, but the big piece gave her the appearance of wearing a ball-gown. How silly; she was set for a walk in the woods!
The excursion was a relatively short walk, out of the built-up area and into woodland and light scrub country; attractive in its way, but not spectacularly pretty. The ground beneath her bare feet was soft and sandy, easy to walk on and not rough or injurious. In a way she enjoyed the break, the fresh air and the exercise, even though hands were tied at back. Soon they were in an area where clearings predominated and she was shown into one, directed to go in, alone.
It was tranquil, very quiet, peaceful and deserted. Empty of anything, except the large wooden cross at the end of it . . . Ropes dangled from the horizontal arms and yes, there was a heap of ropes on the ground near to it as well. She was encouraged to approach, to see, inspect, appreciate and understand. Yes, all her questions would be answered when she returned to her escorts.
She knew enough history to recognise the cross, what it meant, what it could do and what it portended for her. She walked slowly toward it, apprehensive at first, although the inert frame could do no harm as it stood, and seemed unlikely to fall on her without warning. She went closer, much closer, right up to it, studying the chafe marks on the ends of the arms and similar abrasions at the base of the vertical. Stains were visible, many stains, of those who’d already suffered torture and indignity, perhaps death, on the thing. Another contribution was about to be made; hers. No holes she noticed, so whoever rode this thing to damnation was not nailed to it but tied. Soon it would be her turn; nude, sweaty, dirty, degraded and exposed. She shuddered violently.
She saw how it was raised and lowered, being hauled out of its socket by many men and put into the hole by sliding in, manhandled crudely but effectively. Oh hell, she thought, now I know.
These sadistic bastards were going to crucify her, stark naked, in broad daylight. Hells bells!
She studied the glade, its seclusion, the natural sound-proofing of the trees and bushes. Odd, she thought, as to why there were what appeared to be posts with cameras mounted on them, video cameras and brackets that might take remote-controlled still cameras, those that had large capacity memory cards most probably . . . She’d be porno entertainment, long after the event itself.
Returning to her guardians and strolling back to the built area, she asked a few questions. It was getting dark rapidly so the stroll was not too leisurely. The sheet she used as a dress would be lost and just before dawn she’d walk back to the grove in darkness, wearing the extemporized covering over her lower body, lest any locals be offended. Representations about being bare-chested were ignored, being told nobody cared. She cared, a lot, but it mattered not.
At the grove, she would take the huge, heavy cross on her back, walk it, drag it, whatever, some distance to another location, where she would strip off, lie on the frame and be roped securely to it. Then it would be raised and she would ‘suffer the chastisement that it offered her’, exposed naked to all and sundry, her delectable body on display for erotic pleasure.
About an hour before sunrise, she was woken, refused leave for shower or toilet, and conducted to the start of her journey into hell. The device was loaded onto her back and shoulders and she was compelled to stagger under the burden many hundreds of yards to the assigned place. On arrival, the cross was laid on the ground, aligned to the post hole, and she was invited to undress.
Walking along the main spar, she untied the knots holding her loin-cloth in place and let it fall away. being a tidy person, she folded and placed it alongside the frame. No word was spoken but gestures indicated that she should lie on the beams, spread arms out wide and thus assent to her torture. After no small delay, she did so, just as the first glimmer of the new day broke the horizon.
She was surprised that several older women came to wind the ropes around her arms and legs, binding her tightly to the scaffold with little or no freedom of movement. Their task completed, she had been prepared for the next stage, lifting into the vertical. Ropes at the ends of the side-beams were used, with individuals guiding as well, to move the post through ninety degrees and let it drop into its hole. The sudden jolt as it fell the several inches wrenched her shoulder muscles violently, the erratic swaying during the lifting process instilling terror into her, lest the thing overturn, fall face down and she be crushed by its weight.
Now she was up, surveying the scene as morning light flooded the world; she adjusted to circumstance and made such small movements as were possible. Scope for adjustment was limited and what adjustment as might be made was insufficient to relieve the intense pain in her arms and back, or legs, as they too cramped. Thus began what was no more than obscene writhings, shifting weight hither and yon in vain attempts to assuage the suffering, all to little or no effect. The dance of the newly-crucified had begun in earnest, to continue constantly hereafter.
Her body slumped, head sank onto chest, breathing became staccato, cries and shrieks filled the air, as they would for many an hour yet.
Her fate, she was told, had been decided and the punishment would be exacted the following day. It was just as well, she thought, as then she could get back into her normal run of life. She thought . . .
Escape was impossible. Not only was there a constantly changing and moving guard, but she was kept naked in her confinement; just as well the weather was warm. She spent he time wondering, wondering how the hell she came to be in this predicament, how she would get out of it and in the meantime, what were these bozos planning to do with her.
As it was getting dark, she found out the plan. Not by any informed guesswork or analysis, but because she was told and shown the plans. She didn’t like them one iota.
Nobody had abused her whilst a prisoner, she was given food, water and protection. These people were not a bunch of self-indulgent, out-of-control ne’er-do-wells. Oh no, they were much worse.
She was given a sheet of clean, white, cotton material with which to wrap herself for the outside excursion. At the same time two other pieces were put in her room, a wide piece of the same material and a longer, narrow piece. She was told to make herself knickers, a loin-cloth, or some such covering for her belly and bum, for when the main event took place later. She’d experiment on her return from the short trip on which they were taking her, but the big piece gave her the appearance of wearing a ball-gown. How silly; she was set for a walk in the woods!
The excursion was a relatively short walk, out of the built-up area and into woodland and light scrub country; attractive in its way, but not spectacularly pretty. The ground beneath her bare feet was soft and sandy, easy to walk on and not rough or injurious. In a way she enjoyed the break, the fresh air and the exercise, even though hands were tied at back. Soon they were in an area where clearings predominated and she was shown into one, directed to go in, alone.
It was tranquil, very quiet, peaceful and deserted. Empty of anything, except the large wooden cross at the end of it . . . Ropes dangled from the horizontal arms and yes, there was a heap of ropes on the ground near to it as well. She was encouraged to approach, to see, inspect, appreciate and understand. Yes, all her questions would be answered when she returned to her escorts.
She knew enough history to recognise the cross, what it meant, what it could do and what it portended for her. She walked slowly toward it, apprehensive at first, although the inert frame could do no harm as it stood, and seemed unlikely to fall on her without warning. She went closer, much closer, right up to it, studying the chafe marks on the ends of the arms and similar abrasions at the base of the vertical. Stains were visible, many stains, of those who’d already suffered torture and indignity, perhaps death, on the thing. Another contribution was about to be made; hers. No holes she noticed, so whoever rode this thing to damnation was not nailed to it but tied. Soon it would be her turn; nude, sweaty, dirty, degraded and exposed. She shuddered violently.
She saw how it was raised and lowered, being hauled out of its socket by many men and put into the hole by sliding in, manhandled crudely but effectively. Oh hell, she thought, now I know.
These sadistic bastards were going to crucify her, stark naked, in broad daylight. Hells bells!
She studied the glade, its seclusion, the natural sound-proofing of the trees and bushes. Odd, she thought, as to why there were what appeared to be posts with cameras mounted on them, video cameras and brackets that might take remote-controlled still cameras, those that had large capacity memory cards most probably . . . She’d be porno entertainment, long after the event itself.
Returning to her guardians and strolling back to the built area, she asked a few questions. It was getting dark rapidly so the stroll was not too leisurely. The sheet she used as a dress would be lost and just before dawn she’d walk back to the grove in darkness, wearing the extemporized covering over her lower body, lest any locals be offended. Representations about being bare-chested were ignored, being told nobody cared. She cared, a lot, but it mattered not.
At the grove, she would take the huge, heavy cross on her back, walk it, drag it, whatever, some distance to another location, where she would strip off, lie on the frame and be roped securely to it. Then it would be raised and she would ‘suffer the chastisement that it offered her’, exposed naked to all and sundry, her delectable body on display for erotic pleasure.
About an hour before sunrise, she was woken, refused leave for shower or toilet, and conducted to the start of her journey into hell. The device was loaded onto her back and shoulders and she was compelled to stagger under the burden many hundreds of yards to the assigned place. On arrival, the cross was laid on the ground, aligned to the post hole, and she was invited to undress.
Walking along the main spar, she untied the knots holding her loin-cloth in place and let it fall away. being a tidy person, she folded and placed it alongside the frame. No word was spoken but gestures indicated that she should lie on the beams, spread arms out wide and thus assent to her torture. After no small delay, she did so, just as the first glimmer of the new day broke the horizon.
She was surprised that several older women came to wind the ropes around her arms and legs, binding her tightly to the scaffold with little or no freedom of movement. Their task completed, she had been prepared for the next stage, lifting into the vertical. Ropes at the ends of the side-beams were used, with individuals guiding as well, to move the post through ninety degrees and let it drop into its hole. The sudden jolt as it fell the several inches wrenched her shoulder muscles violently, the erratic swaying during the lifting process instilling terror into her, lest the thing overturn, fall face down and she be crushed by its weight.
Now she was up, surveying the scene as morning light flooded the world; she adjusted to circumstance and made such small movements as were possible. Scope for adjustment was limited and what adjustment as might be made was insufficient to relieve the intense pain in her arms and back, or legs, as they too cramped. Thus began what was no more than obscene writhings, shifting weight hither and yon in vain attempts to assuage the suffering, all to little or no effect. The dance of the newly-crucified had begun in earnest, to continue constantly hereafter.
Her body slumped, head sank onto chest, breathing became staccato, cries and shrieks filled the air, as they would for many an hour yet.