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, sex and crucifixion. Please do not read further if any of
these subjects offend, or if you are not of legal age.
Your sole enjoyment and cooperation in not using this story in any other
application without the express permission of the author is requested.
Thank you.
Faibhar
Barbarian Tortures II
The belch burned from the pit of his stomach up. The universe seemed to scorch,
and all this because he decided to get fancy with the barbarian. Two cheap
whores for the night followed by gas was not exactly the sort of recognition he
had in mind for his initiative and many innovations. Lot of good it and they got
him. His body ached as well as burned, especially from last night's persistent
one, the one who kept demanding more even after he had plainly expressed his
exhaustion.
So much for recognition.
His list of achievements, nonpareil: the cave, the use of the boot hob nails on
the soles of the barbarian's feet, the singular manner in which she was
crucified. Another stinging gaseous burp underscored the seemingly endless
string of noteworthy twist and turns, all designed by him. Surely his superiors
knew his ingenuity merited more than just another tussle with common whores, and
yet he had been treated as nothing more than some barnyard animal happy to be
sated rutting with other livestock.
More than mere stomach gasses seethed. He would show them.
"You better get dressed and come quickly." The scrubbed face of his young
assistant came with the call as drab curtains shading his cubicle parted. The
boy did look harried. Any opportunity to stop pondering the higher ups' slight
was welcomed.
He swung his bare legs off of the cot and stood. Grabbing his uniform, he
decided that shaving could wait and followed the assistant out. Wounded ego and
personal grooming could rest behind with the rest of his slights.
The barren hilltop just outside of town was eerily quite. The upright, with its
lengthy cross beam and shorter lower bar stood empty. Bodies of the two sentries
he had posted lay still, arrow shafts protruding from the cadavers. Near the
tree line a litter held the prone barbarian, all save the back of her head
covered with a blanket. She appeared to be resting on her stomach, eyes closed.
"What's this all about," he exclaimed and gripped the hilt of his sword, alarmed
by the macabre stillness with its all too obvious message. Despite the cool
morning hours of the new Mediterranean day hot sweat trickled down his neck.
"Time to drop that sword of yours, and your friend's too."
The voice came from a stand of trees just behind the litter. It sounded firm,
yet tightly controlled. He smiled and eased much of his guard, recognizing that
the voice was feminine. He slowly swaggered in its direction, only to abruptly
stop. From the shadows of the tall greenery emerged a tall dark haired
warrioress. On either side stood male archers, more barbarians, each aiming an
arrow at him. She spoke once more and said in that same tight way, "I really
don't like what you've done to my baby sister."
The tone unnerved. Distress returned. Adrenaline renewed and with it more
trickles down his thick neck. Bushy brows knitted. Sweat wet his face. Was this
to be payback time, the kind of recognition he really deserved, yet scarcely
wished? Fight or flight instantly became his sole options.
He was about to try and run back to town for safety when another voice, this one
clearly Roman and male, said from behind the barbarian archers and the
threatening woman, "Like it or not, I think that it is you who should disarm."
She and her men swung around. Behind them stood Roman soldiers. The masculine
voice came from a centurion. Returning the squad to the town he happened upon
the party. Outnumbering the archers and their female leader, the Romans snuck
close enough to surprise the rebel band.
The centurion stepped from the deeper shade, eyed the dead soldiers, the litter
with its human cargo and said, "Take these men as our prisoners. You," he
pointed at the much relieved but still perplexed soldier standing in the growing
daylight with his petrified young assistant, "have six of my men. They should be
more than enough. Do what you will with the barbarian females." The empty cross
with its uniquely fitted crossbeams stood as a centerpiece for the tableau,
clear testimony to some plan not completely executed. "And this time, avoid
further loose ends."
His heart gradually eased as he listened to the commands. A deep sigh arose from
his chest. Fate delivered a second chance. If bosses did not fully recognize his
efforts with the first barbarian, by the gods they were sure to award his second
try. Of that, he was certain. He allowed a deep calming breath, the first in
what seemed a long while.
Struggling only seemed to make the wrist binds behind her back bite harder. The
sun warmed, even in the half in shadows at the forest's line. Out in the direct
light she saw Roman soldiers sitting her sister up on the litter, removing the
cloth bandages from her wounded feet and dragging her back to the cross. The
blanket covering her back fell, exposing bruises and half-healed lashes left by
the scourge.
She helplessly twisted her bare shoulders as they stretched out her legs along
the fallen tree trunk. The bark scraped inner thighs, but the worst pain came
from being forced to do the splits. Exertion pumped. More sweat glistened over
nearly complete nudity as soldiers' hands untied the Roman-style boots she wore
and used the laces to lash her ankles to the tree trunk.
Their glares offended. Heedless of the hungry stares, solid circles surrounding
the pointed nipples atop her breasts innocently swelled. Circles of flesh
colored darker by her one and only pregnancy, a pregnancy that saw her baby
slaughtered by the Romans just after they killed her husband. Despite wetting
the leering appetites, heated tension spread the aureolae across the smooth
mounds of her breasts.
His loins stirred as he saw the long legs spread across the fallen tree. He
ordered others to balance the log and the barbarian tied to it between two rocks
so that she was poised horizontally to the ground, just about knee high. This
one, he mused, possessed an even lovelier body than her younger sister's and by
chance his lot was to use both. Perhaps there was such a thing as just desserts
after all.
Once the log was in place, he ordered the two holding her up and said, "Those
legs flex well. Now ease her torso back until her head is on the ground." The
reawakening in his pants was nothing those two whores back in town could hope
for in their wildest dreams. The stirring increased as he watched the spread
upper thighs bulge with the movement. Long auburn hair framing those fine tits
fell slowly backward until only the spread legs showed from where he stood,
their center crowned by the tight crop of brownish curls. Below it sliced a
parted purplish slit, bright pink lips beckoning to the pride of his manhood.
Given her position he looked to come from out of the sky. Craning her neck to
lift her head off of the turf, she saw the grizzly face peer down at her, the
rapid movements of his arm and the bulbous head of his cock.
Despite her view, the rasping thrust into her dryness made her gasp. The force
sent her neck back, head crashing once more into the field. Her eyes clenched as
the sawing motion between her legs thrust deeper, the pain obscuring the rough
pawing and clutching at her naked chest.
And then it was over.
The next followed, and then another. Every new rape lubricated by cum from the
one before. The absence of dryness, and her own growing exhaustion eased shock
from the first attack. Semen flowed over the curly triangle and seeped down the
inverted torso, stopping to pool inside the navel and then, sliding up the
gradual incline to her lower ribs. That the polluted Roman river stopped just
short of directly between her inverted breasts did little to calm.
Admiring the flow over its now gaping orifice, partially covering labia puffy
and bruised from abuse he said, "Lift the barbarian up. And ease her over the
other side of this log. Give us all a view of that tantalizing rear..."
Midday, word of a second barbarian female spread throughout the town and an
animated crowd followed the assistant as he returned to the hilltop with the
requested equipment. Many broke free and ran as they neared the site, eager to
see not only the first, but now the second barbarian. What they saw amazed.
From the tree line a legionnaire pulling a nude female by her hair. Smears of
blood colored the female's inner thighs as she was pulled toward the cross.
Crawling on hands and knees, she looked to be a taller version of the first
barbarian. One leg slid behind as she crawled, loose straps from a boot on her
foot straggling behind. Another soldier grabbed the ties and pulled them away,
puling the boot in the process. In spite of the legionnaire's tugging, the
female's head hung low, free ends of hair trailing in the soil. Heavy tits
dragged alongside between the rust colored mane.
He casually saluted the arriving crowd, happy that they came again to witness
his many innovations. Ignoring the assistant, he took the bag from the man and
waved once more to the people. "I want her kneeling between her sister's legs.
Tie her wrists on the upper crossbeam," he said to the other military awaiting
his word.
She hazarded a glance up as arms pulled her arms. Her sister's face was not
visible. The highest she could see was nipples pointing skyward. Her own slid
along the inner sides of her sister's trembling upper thighs. Just inches from
her face stared the battered vulva, so close it radiated.
He smiled mostly to himself as he looked down at the kneeling female. Barbarian
tortures were to be his ticket to greater recognition. Fingers loosened. Shards
clacked as the tips of the lashes connected to the scourge handle in his grip
fell and hit one another. "Your sister has endured much. Lick her."
She leaned back as much as possible, but her pulled arms high above held. What
the Roman said repelled. The rapes threatened to rip apart her very being, but
she would not submit to his latest demand.
A rebellious nature only further delighted. He watched the unmarked back flinch,
the pulled arms flex, glistening flesh begging to be punished. "Very well,
then."
Others stood further back as he braced himself, cocked a shoulder and then swung
the scourge down across the shoulder blades.
Her scream was muffled as the force of the blow forced her face into her sister.
Facial muscles quivered. The sun flashed again as her head rebounded.
"I told you to do something, and I expect my orders to be followed."
Tremors shook her body. Eyelashes blinked. In front of her sister's genitals
appeared through a red film of pain. Streaks of fire burned in her own body.
Dimly she heard the Roman's detestable voice. Her eyes shut and she buried her
face into her raised arm.
"Don't say I never warned you..." He swung again, this time crossing the lashes
over the bleeding welts caused by the first swing. The hit loudly cracked and
was heard by all.
Her body jerked so hard the cross shook. Knees momentarily left the dirt.
Shudders met quakes, shivers rent. She swung away from the dark wetness of her
sister, this time hanging her head back, eyes closed, sun on her glistening
face.
He let her suffer.
Gripping the handle of the scourge tighter, he smiled and shrugged at the
onlookers. Turning his head back down he grew more serious, watching the streams
of blood freely flowing from the lashed back. "Apparently, you don't listen too
well..."
He swung a third time, landing a hit full-force on the small of the barbarian's
back. Watching her face plunge between the other barbarian's legs as the lashes
struck he smiled as this time her face moved away from the crotch slower than
before. "Come on. You know you want it."
Her teeth chattered. The brightness of the overhead sun did little to warm her
chills. The stale taste of her sister remained on her lips, in her nose. Spasms
ran through her body. Her ass and upper legs shook. Her back felt skinned. Tears
further glistened her cheeks. She did not know how much more of the scourge she
could take. And yet, the only alternative was to...In front of her stared the
enflamed vulva. Her eyes weakly rose up her sister's stomach to the undersides
of the lifted breasts, nipple points and above them the sky with its calm blue
and searing sun.
He noted the hesitation and then said, "Here. Allow me to help." The back of her
head felt damp as his palm covered it. He forcefully pushed forward, mashing her
face into her sister's crotch, keeping it there, sure she would be at her very
last breath, and then letting up. Yanking her head up to face him, he peered
down and said, "I can whip you more, or you know what you can do..."
Sun blinded and then dark returned as his face loomed above. Her voice left, but
her lips formed a "No".
"If that is your answer," he said and let go of her head. Stepping back he
started to swing again, when the second barbarian's voiced rasped. "What's
that?"
He watched with amusement as she tentatively leaned closer toward her sister's
crotch. He waited for the pink tip of her tongue to emerge before he said, "That
will be enough for now." To the stunned assistant and other silent soldiers he
said, "Take this one down."
So far he knew that his display this second time assuredly would meet with the
approval and proper acknowledgement from his superiors. Now for what they could
not ignore...
She looked to the side as her arm was stretched along the crossbeam. Just beyond
her sister lay on her side, legs curled, turned away. Fingers reached out but
were stopped by the beefy hand holding her wrist palm up on the wood. Ignoring
the awful pain as her ripped back scraped wood and dirt, she turned in the
opposite direction. Above stood the Roman. In his hands he held a heavy mallet
and long spikes.
He gazed around at the excited throng. Amongst the citizenry, assorted merchants
and slaves, he saw nobles, many of whom nodded at him. Also in the crowd stood
ranking military. To a one, they beamed their approval. At him.
Fortified by the recognition, he looked down at the barbarian; arms spread out,
luscious tits exposed on a relatively unmarked front, back an entirely different
story. Squatting down he said to her, "Your sister may have been first on the
cross, but you're next."
Standing, he continued to look down on her. "And guess what? Forget about that
rope we used on your sister barbarian," he said rattling the iron spikes in his
grip. "For you we use metal."
