The following totally fictitious writings of Faibhar are intended for the sole
readership of those of LEGAL AGE. The ADULT ONLY material contained within is
also for personal use only where local standards permit scenes of extreme
violence, torture and sex. Please do not read further if any of these subjects
offend, or if you are not of legal age.
The following is for your sole enjoyment and your cooperation in not using the
material in any other application without the express permission of the author
is requested.
Thank you.
Faibhar
Differing Views
The heavens, those on the ground clustered about, and the victim were all
clearly aware of the present. All too painfully aware, for the victim, at least.
Most, mortals included, could easily conjure the past.
The future fate of the crucified held scant mystery for human or god.
"With looks like hers she could have had anything she wanted," mocked Aphrodite
as she watched from above with her fellow gods.
"Yet," Ares flexed his own well-developed arms and said admiringly, "the human
chose to train and lead on the field of battle-normally an exclusively male
pursuit but..."
"She was one of the best. Is that what you were going to say?" Aphrodite
snapped, proud that Ares acknowledged her gender's success yet still miffed by
the sacrifices to gender-traditional roles such success incurred, wrapped a
chiffon scarf around her traditionally feminine swan-like neck and pivoted away.
Over her shoulder she spat to the gods ignoring her departure as they continued
to peer down on the mortals. "If anyone cares, I'm off to do...oh, I don't
know." Few paid notice as she grumbled something about them being too disgusting
for her.
SHOPPING! was more her thing. The goddess vanished in a divine huff.
Another attack was coming. Suffocation. My butt clenched tighter. Just above it
my spine felt ready to snap. I could never again do it again, but knew I had to.
Got to get air... Power surged through my thighs. Pressure on the nails in my
feet built. The ground below swirled. A garbled groan arose. Slowly, ever so
slowly, knees began to come together as legs strained. The wood scraping my torn
back felt good-it meant upward movement, however laborious. Sweat steamed, heart
felt ready to explode...
The noises from the victim drew their attention. Those of some experience knew
that the crucified was about to once more writhe upward, grab a few gulps of
air, and then slide back down, hanging on the cross by nailed wrists, thighs
opened for all to see the inner folds of female sex.
Those jaded by watching the process before could not help but look. The blond
warrior, nude now, was something to see. Cognoscente knew well the repeated
rising and falling as the condemned fought to breathe was all part of the
torture that went with crucifixion. Not for the squeamish, but nonetheless
riveting and certainly an acquired taste.
This one, though, was different. Sex played a factor demanding that they all
watch, many enthusiastically encouraged to do so by lust. Obscenely displayed
was one thing, but again those knowledgeable knew the female was subjected to
many more tortures before she reached this point-many of the tortures
deliberately carried out solely based on her sex.
"Now if I were female and a mere mortal, which of course I am neither," Ares
mused aloud as he and the remaining gods looked down from the heavens above, "I
would be happy being in such physical condition as she." The god of war absently
flexed his pectorals and smiled as he watched the glistening shoulder and arms
muscles below bunch and knot. Rounded tops of breasts shone heavenward as they
thrust out. As the mortal reached as high as she could go on the cross, her face
angled up as if looking right at him, frantically gulping air as she screamed.
All too soon the matted mop atop her head replaced her pale face, bizarrely
lovely in its agony-contorted features, chin falling, body sliding back down the
upright. Muscles no longer bulged and exerted.
Impressed, Ares softly whistled admiration.
Relief came. It meant plenty. Whether the same could be done again could wait
until next time. For now, at least, the fire in my lungs was not nearly as
great. Hanging down with legs spread, feet nailed to the sides of the stipe,
wrists numbed by spikes, became almost bearable.
Even the cluster of men and women became more a nuisance. From high above on the
cross it was difficult to discern their individual features. Something in front
of the crowd stirred: A small group of youths. The arm of one of them blurred.
He found the small rock nearby. It felt hot in his hand. Goaded on by his
friends, he aimed for the bitch's right tit. Those around cheered as his throw
hit. The fleshy mound shook, then her torso. She groaned. A short red mark
angled up, alongside the white flesh, just to the outside of the rose-colored
aureole.
The pain was sharp and quick and quickly turned into another burn. Along the
side of one breast a welt appeared to run down from view. There was no defense
against another throw. Adults below hardly seemed to care what the youths did
next.
Soldiers brusquely poked through the circle of onlookers. They carried with them
a tall ladder, one built long enough for scaling walls. This they propped up,
leaning the upper most portion so that it rested on an arm of the cross beam,
just outside of the blond's clutched hand.
Dust settled. Two of them tested the sturdiness of the ladder. They were shoved
aside as roughly as was the circle of citizens just penetrated by the ladder.
One of the soldiers in charge of the execution exercised his authority and put a
boot on a lower rung. The burly official began to ascend.
The iron head of the spike did not move as he forcefully pulled. It was deeply
seated into the side of the upright, pinning the foot fast to the wood. To be
sure, he reached out and tested the far side. The nail there also refused to
budge. His men had done well to sink the irons.
Satisfied, he looked up. A cut and bruised knee angled toward him, but his
rheumy chocolate eyes followed the well-defined thigh to the puffy pink portal
and its black abyss. A small tuft of golden hair crowned the opening.
Looking briefly down at the tops of heads and faces now below he grunted and
continued to climb higher, his next destination soon to be reached.
This was what he had savored so well last night. His fingers probed through the
giving folds, familiar pungent musk. Heat and moistness existed today as they
eventually did last evening. His fingers continued to explore the various ridges
and other spots of interest in the female genitalia.
Sweet memories returned. Sweet for he and his men, that is. She perhaps might
have other ideas on how the night was spent...but then, who really cared what
the condemned thought? He recalled that she was brought down into the armory,
stripped and then thrown to her knees. She didn't say much as they tied rope to
each wrist. When they threaded the lose ends through rings in the facing wall
she began to curse and spit. Men then pulled her ankles up, tied rope to them
and pulled the rope through rings in each corner of the storage room.
And that, he smiled as he plied the tender flesh, is when the real fun began.
Sweet, yes...
One of the other deities suggested that they gather around the Magic Well and
watch the mortals from last night torture the victim.
"Where did Aphrodite fly off to?" Ares absently asked his colleagues as all
present surrounded the waters that could show any moment in time. "She might
enjoy this."
He really didn't care where the goddess of love was off to, much more involved
with the view before them. His words cut short as the black waters changed to
reveal a stone room crowded with many mortal soldiers. Horizontally
spread-eagled in their midst was the paled body of the blond, facing parallel
the floor and held about waist high by rope pulling her wrists and ankles.
"Especially this part..."
The gods watched as the mortals took turns between the spread-opened legs. The
female screamed as she was penetrated, most loudly as some of the men sodomized
her. Many of them grabbed the hanging tits, spanking the upraised butt as they
thrust.
A female slave entered and knotted the rape victim's hair into a short single
braid as one of the men pried open her jaws. He then inserted toothed metal
strips to prevent her from closing her mouth. Blood slid out from where the
metal cut gums.
The gods observed the swollen head of the mortal's cock enter. Soft-looking lips
wrapped around the thick shaft of the male. Her cheeks seemed to bulge as the
cock slowly slid in to the back of her mouth. Above the oval formed by the lips
and wrapped tightly around the engorged shaft the whites of her eyes grew
larger.
When he slowly withdrew his erection the taut skin of his cock glistened.
He plunged it back into the opened mouth, faster this time.
"Seems as though someone gives good head." Ares felt his own divine body stir as
he continued to watch the scene as it appeared across the waters of the onyx
Magic Well.
There seemed as though madness would not happen, that much was good.. Many had
succumbed after being crucified. Yet, shards of memories interspersed with the
present to create a maddening view..
Last night, for example, was one such haunting memory. Suspended off the ground,
wrists and ankles held by rope. Stretching as the rope pulled. The rapes. And
then my mouth filling with heat. Tasting salty gobs of cum. Watching helplessly
as the gobs dropped to the floor. Feeling my head jerked up by the short braid
as time and again cocks entered...
Shaking my head cleared away the memories. The mass of people down below
reappeared. A new image climbed up close. The top of his helmet grew larger as
he climbed, and it was then I realized there was a ladder propped on the wood
just outside of my clutched fingers.
Afraid, and then knowing by lack of breath it was again time I ignored the
helmet as it neared and placed pressure on my nailed feet. They felt numb.
Thighs flexed. Arms pulled up. Sweat poured out, heart pounded. Eyes grimaced as
pain grew.
His timing proved fortuitous. He scarcely paid attention to the groan issued
above him, but more on keeping the ladder steady. He reached out as he stepped
yet higher. Into the crook of his hand slid the tit as he reached for stability
and the bitch rose for air.
Almost as if eager to welcome his touch.
His hand gripped tighter. Fingers still slippery from probing the female's
vagina and the tit itself slick from its owner's sweat, The soft flesh in his
grip yielded as it rose, then held as his fingers tightened.
Reaching over with his other hand their fingers entered the recess of the
bitch's mouth, feeling her tongue weakly attempt to keep him out. Finding molars
on one side, he felt the metal and yanked it free.
Cursing over the fresh coating of blood as he removed his fingers, he slapped
the bitch's face and then reached in to pull out the other wedge.
Close to her face as he was, he saw the terror in her eyes and felt the heat of
her skin. Still gripping the tit, he used a dagger to slice at the base of the
short braid. Once the shock of hair came loose, he threw it down to the cheers
and clamor of the crowd.
The hair would be some lucky bystander's souvenir, a good-luck charm taken from
a crucified. He released the tit and carefully started back down the ladder,
satisfied in more ways than one.
The shouts caused my eyes to flicker open. Once more breath was in my lungs. It
felt good to swallow more now that the metal was one. Getting the air, I almost
ignored the soldier coming so close, but with eyes partially parted the top of
him could be seen descending. His weight maneuvering down the rickety ladder
transferred to the cross.
Once more I hung by my wrists. They too, felt numb. Thighs splayed, chest pulled
higher, torso stretched.
Back at their heavenly viewing stand, the gods watched the present unfold.
Shadows lengthened behind the cross. Most of the mortals had returned to their
city for the evening, leaving only the victim and a few restless sentries.
Ares adjusting the snug fit of his tooled leather vest, smoothed his raven locks
with a hand and said, "Looks like the show's over." He and the others shrugged.
"For today that is...
Who knows what the future might bring?"
