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crucified; condemned woman hanged bare-breasted on a cross
The girl was to be put to death; the verdict final. This wouldn’t, however, be a quick fix by the sword, but slow, agonising and humiliating. She would be crucified at the usual place, in theory open to communal view. She'd be hanged on the tall stump of tree where a cut branch formed the thin cross beam, by a stand of trees in the big field. It was public enough, although few if any were likely to pass by the scene, and had inexorably chilled the hot bodies of several lovely women, all stark naked, in the past, whose fate it was to meet it.
The usual stipulation of complete nakedness would not be imposed; instead she would be clad in a makeshift loin-cloth, as the woman had pleaded adamantly not to show her breasts, belly, bum or pussy to casual spectators; modesty and self-esteem were prized. Ruth had relented, after she’d received several hours of the most attentive and erotic pleasuring, as Natalia had demeaned herself to Ruth’s complete satisfaction. Breasts and legs displayed, but not groin, fine with that.
Taken out to the field early in the morning selected, she was stripped of the plain cotton garment wrapping her that would, when ‘twas all done, become her shroud. Covering her were scanty scraps of pink cloth, wrapped round waist and between thighs; otherwise the girl was naked.
The long walk took time, barefoot, so all the while hurting the soles of her feet, wrists tied behind, sobbing pitifully, across the vast expanse of desolate field to the primitive execution cross-tree to which she would be bound with tough ropes. Forced to make it, the mark would feel exposed, fearing that the simple wrap would be removed, that she’d be naked in front of them, in the open.
Head down, she walked slowly, ever closer to that crucial spot, the empty place of destiny. Arriving at the instrument of death, gathering courage, she looked up, gazing intently at the simplicity of the thing, so uncomplicated yet capable of inflicting so much hurt. On this basic frame she’d hang, writhe, endure shame, pain and torment, as her captors and their friends stared; she would be stretched, tortured, life forfeit, to be taken away. She was to be tied on it, to hang on it. She shuddered at the prospect.
Composed now, calm and self-assured, when the low platform was placed against the vertical, hands were untied and she mounted and leant back against the upright. Each arm extended, wrists were bound securely to the ends of the horizontal beam. First the left foot, then the right, was embraced in rope to fix both feet against the perpendicular.
By now her feet, held to the upright tree, were hurting from the walk and arms pulled almost from their sockets, back and shoulder muscles screamed as chest and belly pulled tight.
She was aloft, fixed, hanging high, alone, already suffering fear, pain, isolation, desolation . . .
She was crucified.
PS The pix have been seen before, but not in this order - and not with a storyline. They've been edited, cropped, modified etc. Respect paid to the originator of them all ~ www.crucified-women.com
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