CRVCIFIXION, Part III
Constant scraping across the paved stones rubbed her knees raw. Every motion
became an effort. For every time she faltered, the stinging lash proved a
painful reminder to surge forward. Streets lined with patricians and plebeians
alike, all exhorting forward progress and lamenting her lack of virtue. The
knees left a dark wake.
Trenus snarled at Marcianna riding in the chariot next to him. "Why is it," he
said with a frown as he glared at what used to peek out as a healthy pink but
now slashed between Sethra's upper thighs more as a beet red. "That you always
seem to aim to hit her there?"
"I do not!" Marcianna did not care for the tone. Besides, the welted ass pulling
them testified to her choice of other targets. Trenus was wrong and could keep
his opinions to himself. Her arm cocked for another salvo.
He roughly grabbed the upraised arm and stopped any hope of further forward
momentum. At the same time, reins yanked back, jerking his chariot to a stop.
"You disgust me woman. Get down from here, NOW."
Marcianna shuddered as she acquiesced and her hand let go of the crop. She knew
well of Trenus and his temper, but seeing his face this close she saw that he
was furious and one not to haggle with. She stepped off of the chariot.
Trenus jumped down. With his right hand he tore off Marcianna's aquamarine
stola, exposing the gauzy blue tunica she wore underneath. He ripped the fine
cloth to shreds, stripping Marcianna to the waist.
Those closest hushed at the sight of the Trenus stripping his mistress. Sensing
his anger, and wishing to curry favor, they began to chant Cunnus, and Merda.
What came next pleased them all.
Sethra let her head drop as the reins bending back her neck eased. She stopped.
A servant approached carrying a small clay jar with the face of someone on it.
Sethra opened her mouth and sipped. The cool beverage from the pot she knew was
posca, or watered down wine. Parched as she was, she drank with gusto.
From the corner of her eye she saw the muscular legs of a soldier. Stumbling
with him she saw the much smoother legs of a female. Marcianna fell into view
alongside her. The mistress didn't look, but stared straight ahead as a bit
similar to Sethra's and harness were fitted.
Trenus grabbed the arm of a bystander, and yanked her into the street. The black
slave screamed as she was pulled. He reached for the neckline of the slave's
coarse tunic and ripped it just like he had torn Marcianna's clothes.
The slave was harnessed on the other side of Sethra.
Now having three females pulling, two naked and the one in the middle nude,
Trenus gripped the reins for all three and cracked the crop. His drove his white
and gold chariot as it bolted forward through the crowded city streets.
Pulling was somewhat easier with the other two alongside. Marcianna seemed to be
straining, and both of them already sweated from the humiliation and exertion.
Trenus's former whore had full tits that swung from side to side. They looked to
Sethra to have much shorter nipples than hers, but the aureolae was much larger.
On her right, the black grunted as she pulled. Her tits shone, too, but they
were less full than Marcianna's and dark purplish nipples capped the hanging
mammaries.
Trenus enjoyed the ride. Passing through the main arch and onto the provincial
road, he went a few meters and turned off onto the clivus, or small road, just
outside the archway. The narrow path steeply wound up the hill.
He appraised the incline. With three healthy human mares pulling him, the rise
looked like no problem at all. He basked in the adoration of the jubilant crowds
following and lining the small hillside rode. He again swung his crop. The
chariot surged forward as it began the climb.
They stopped at a small plateau two-thirds of the way to the summit. Trenus
dismounted and ordered drink. Emptying the chalice, he ran a finger of
perspiration from his brow and told the servants to water the "mares".
Taking a refilled chalice of fine wine, he walked over to where several military
men stood beneath a sturdy branch. Looking up at the limb, he nodded approval.
He spoke briefly to a centurion whose own armor was much plainer than his
imperial getup, consisting mainly of the usual overlapping iron bands held
together with leather.
The helmeted man called out for the two liberti. Trenus drank more as the two
ex-slaves stepped forward. One looked like he could be Germanic, the shirtless
one was probably a Mongol. They looked menacing. Both sweated from the full
leather helmets each wore.
"Bring me," Trenus said, and noted that poor Marcianna lay exhausted in the
dirt. "The leader who dared to resist." The wine tasted refreshing as he watched
infantrymen shove aside Marcianna and the requisitioned slave. "I have plans for
the other two, but first the rebel."
Sethra felt numb. Hands and fingers removed the bit and the harness. She was
dragged over to where Trenus stood next to two hooded men and made to kneel.
Trenus addressed the gathered. "One of these men," he gestured toward the two
liberti, will win the use of one of my whores." He handed each a three-strand
scourge and accepted a wooden box brought by the centurion. Patting the Germanic
type's shoulder, he said, "Show us what that scourge of yours can do to that
tree trunk."
Sethra watched with the rest as the man swung the lashes. Its barbed tips
cracked against the bark. Bits of wood cleaved from the trunk. A cloud of dust
flew. The throng filling the plateau ooo'd and awww'd. Three gouges marked the
wood. Sethra shivered. More of the tortures she had first imagined were about to
begin.
"Their contest, is simply that, the one who swings the hardest at this one," he
said and patted Sethra's head, tapping her head with his ring. "Wins."
Applause greeted their leader's latest folly as he opened the wooden box held by
the soldier.
"But first," he said after putting on mail gloves and reaching into the open
lid. "This is for you."
Sethra saw him gingerly lift from the container what looked to be a crude crown.
Free of its box, she saw the crown consisted of three woven strands of pointed
thorns. They looked very sharp.
Her eyes tracked the dark head-shaped ring as it was raised by Trenus and held
to hover over her own head. She frantically twisted her wrists but they had been
bound by rope. The circle with its sharp points hovered overhead, and then
descended.
Consciousness returned with a vengeance. Sethra hung by her wrists from the
branch high above. Blinking away water burning her eyes she made out Marcianna
and the slave, still tethered to the chariot. All of her body ached as it hung.
Trenus stood off to the side, crowds all seemed to be gawking at her. Her upper
arms stung. Peeking from the corner of one eye, Sethra saw that the gap between
her upraised arms was too narrow. Thorns from the crown had not only cut into
her scalp, but also, her arms. Water dripped from her face as she hung her head.
Long pink nipples innocently returned her gaze. Dots and streaks of crimson
mixed with droplets of water ran down the white skin.
The last thing she remembered were thorns stabbing her head and soldiers hitting
her with rods to lower the crown as it cut to just above her eyebrows. They must
have revived her with splashes of water after she was hung.
Trenus moved and stood behind the bunched shoulders. He arranged the flowing
gold that was quickly changing colors as more and more blood matted its locks
and luster turned to muddy brown. "We don't want this constricted. Her ankles
are free, and each of these fine gentlemen you see wearing the hoods," he nodded
to the German and Mongol as they took positions. "Will try their very best to
use those scourges to spin her around, and win a date for tonight or whenever."
At the drop of his hand, the two on opposing sides of Sethra balanced
themselves. The one behind swung first.
Sethra head flew up as fire slashed across her lower back. Thorns snapped as
many making up the crown tore into her biceps. Sethra's mouth gaped and eyes
winced. She kept from screaming, but the force from the scourge also spun her.
The Mongol was prepared. As soon as the female began to spin, he mightily swung.
He would reverse her swing.
She coughed and choked at once. Force of will kept her from crying out at the
agony erupting across her lower ribs, but it was impossible to keep the spittle
from flying out. The world spun the opposite direction.
Seeing his chance, the German swung and this time his lashes crossed over the
original three he made. Spurting blood blurred the lines as he watched the
female twirled back.
Hair flew confusedly in all directions. Sethra shook her head, oblivious to what
damage such spasms caused thorns to rake her arms.
And then it happened. Her head was wildly swinging down and she glimpsed the
fraction of a moment when one of the barbs sunk into the base of her nipple. The
barb whipped from the right, and the impertinent nipple was swinging to the
left. She saw a flash of gore as the metal slashed through flesh and then
darkness covered her vision.
