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. This constitutes PART ONE of The Accidental Surgeon. 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 The Accidental Surgeon Centuries would pass before the arrival of castles and shining knights; for now courage and stamina necessarily meant more to royals. The ability to defend from attackers took precedence over noblesse oblige. Parental training coupled with individual talents in the martial arts had, until now, successfully defended those lands. But overwhelmed by attacking forces her royal court now consisted of a dusty lot baked by broiling sun, attendants fat black bodied flies and the occasional curious lizard. She knelt held, wrists lashed behind her back, a course noose around her neck, tethered like a common animal. Despite the humiliating defeat and followed by hours spent kneeling, cracked and parched earth her only kneeler, courage and stamina that had served well in the past refused to yield; Katana fought the bindings, frustrated once more as her bondage held. Now a prisoner stripped of all regalia except for a cowhide top and skirt. Humble though the brief ensemble was its owner announced a truly regal bearing despite unwittingly firing a cauldron of lust to too many. A remarkable chest shown above the leather, tops of breasts rolling forth like creamy clouds bursting for freedom, their effect accentuated by bare muscled arms pulled behind. A dramatic narrowing led to a tight waist that later swelled to curvaceous hips atop defined thighs. What one could see, and there was much to see, left little doubt of the warrior's sex. Mussed golden strands loosed in the tussle framed a living portrait of pulchritude that featured full rose lips and intelligent hazel eyes ablaze with sparkle. A portrait composed on a honeyed vanilla complexion canvas currently overheated in the merciless sun. Katana shifted restlessly. She wished she could reach her eyelids, but with hands pinned behind she could only blink her eyes clear. Human activity stirred past shimmering waves of heat at the far end of the lot. Katana willed her eyes to see. Two soldiers appeared and marched closer. Coarse hair covering stout legs came into greater focus. Rustling mail signaled their imminent arrival. Flies panicked and scattered. She pretended to ignore the men and stared down at the jagged cuts above deep crevasses torn in the dried dirt. Lizards sensitive to too much had long since scurried away. "You! Up!" Katana continued to keep her face cast downward. "Here," one of them growled as he slid ands under her arms and lifted. "You come." "If they must insist on a female to lead them, they at least picked one with looks." Katana thought she recognized the speaker by its seedy voice alone but the sole light in the gloomy chamber came from above and the voice came from the darkness. A shaft of sunlight poured down from a ceiling grate. She and the two who had brought her stood in its illumination. The rest of the room was impossible to see. One of the men took a knee. She felt his fingers undoing the straps of her boots. The other undid her wrists. Katana held them before her. For a moment she saw the raw lines struggles with the rope had incurred. "Cuff her wrists and ankles," the disembodied, somewhat familiar voice said. Katana glanced at the thick veins glistening down her forearms as metal cuffs locked around each wrist. With her boots her feet felt cooler on the stone floor. Hands pulled apart her legs, a feeling similar to the action on her wrists snapped around her ankles. Into the beam of light pointed a gnarled finger. The ring atop the extended digit signified its owner, her torturer. Soporanus, the evil despot so vile even his own people could hardly stand him, sent by superiors distant enough so that he could indulge his sadistic depravity, yet close enough that the pervert's wildest indulgences did not miss their governing attention. Despite the gleaming impressiveness of the ring's golden seal, the index finger bearing it looked like some rotted miniature wagon wheel spindle cast too long underwater. The finger with its ring shook. "You may know that I am Soporanus, appointed leader of this region." A blast of fury met her nemesis even as shackles snapped at locked ankles and chains pulled out arms, effectively negating any counterattack. "What you may not be aware of is our peoples' respect for the tolerance of pain. All regardless of sex or station in life aim to so heed this expectation." More of her enemy came into view. The rest of him looked every bit as mottled and barnacled as his rotted finger. Purple hues of the toga draping the cadaverous looking Soporanus echoed what the ring announced. "Especially our leaders ...and other so-called leaders such as yourself. That is why I have prepared for this moment in advance. A challenge to your integrity as a leader if you will." Stooped and balding, the man had to be over sixty Katana thought. His breath reeked. She moved to strike the leering face but chains locked to wrist manacles caught any hope of forward motion. The stymied effort frustrated "Today we will attempt to break you. Learn what you can and cannot take both as a woman and of course as I mentioned a leader. No doubt you will break. Tomorrow when you are crucified will of course be much more public than our somewhat exclusive meeting here. But feel free to yell your head off anytime and forget about retaining any notion of respect. We won't mind..." Katana peered into the darkness facing her. From the gloom she heard others chuckle. All that was visible was a solid wall of black. She looked back to Soporanus who briefly turned and then pulled a small table into the sunlight. Many of the instruments on the table she recognized, some she did not. "My friends do have fun at times," Soporanus said as he acknowledged the others and stood alongside the table with its small polished tools. "Laughing especially when I tell them of my hobby as a surgeon. An accident helped me along, really. One day when I was a young general returning from some victory or other our local surgeon just keeled over. Naturally as the commander in charge, I took over the poor man's responsibilities. When all was said and done, I kept his equipment and that brings us here with you today." Katana wanted to spit in his gap-tooth face but held to a mere snarl. More frustration raged as she again fought the restricting chains. Instinct spurred the urge to lash out and then she held back. Teeth clenched as she saw Soporanus gingerly lift a small scalpel from the table into the sunlight as if to inspect the keenness of its finely honed edge and say in his wheezy voice, " Let's start with that top of yours, shall we? It does need to first be removed before we can truly begin to judge just how well you can earn our respect and meet our...expectations."
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. This constitutes PART TWO of The Accidental Surgeon. 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 The Accidental Surgeon Part TWO Katana tensed. She braced for the riot of thunder spearing her chest. Ironically it was all sparked by a tiny prick at the base of her left nipple. Just like her right. She turned her head away, not caring to witness her tormentor's craft. Now both were pierced. Weight from the second lead throbbed as it was fitted in place. "Very nice," Soporanus said as he inspected his work. Daylight from the grate above angled differently than when they had first arrived. Tiny down mixed with shiny droplets on her skin caught in the sun's rays. Beneath heavy curves shadows deeper. Soporanus cupped one tit and hefted its firm, though pliable mass. Portions of the bluish-gray metal shone. Tracing up the sweating body Soporanus saw that her eyes remained shut as they had when he first applied the ferrum candens. "So much for calling this little thing the "bloodless knife"", he said. He returned the stained implement to his collection and used a cloth to dab away thin crimson trails winding down from each nipple. "You accept pain rather well, not that what you just endured caused one so brave much anguish." Katana slowly faced forward and opened her eyes. Light from the grate above revealed more than she had been able to see before. Ahead rose a relieving arch and brick facade. Seated on a low bench attached to it were the shadows of four other men. One looked to be some sort of official by the dimly visible striped long toga he wore. The others appeared more military in dress. She swallowed slowly and spotted Soporanus's bent figure to her left. He motioned for something. Scraping noises across the floor drowned out the sound of her own hurried breathing. "Surgery has become a hobby, much by accident as I previously explained, though to fully challenge your character I have resorted to less sophisticated means." Katana sighed and clenched her fists. To each side went her upper arms. Her elbows rose just about the height of her head. Forearms angled out and up toward the cuffs locked to chains. The piercings did little to stop the sweat. Half naked and in chains she was drenched "You shall see with the introduction of this next device..." From the shadows emerged two male slaves dragging a tall post. A cylindrical metal shaft with base, it rose past the hollow of her chest. A horizontal bar was raised along the shaft from below and secured so that it slightly propped up the base of each breast, the relative cold of the metal's first touch causing a mild shock to an already heated system. The tip of Katana's nose grazed the greased pole that topped out at her forehead. The animal stench of the shaft's thick slime coating was unavoidable. "It also was designed by me," Soporanus muttered, referring to the device as he unstuck the syrupy thin knife from the cloth on which it had been placed, "but obviously has little to do with a surgeon's practice." Freeing the tool his stooped shoulders turned back to Katana. Sliding it between one nipple ring he lifted and then let the pale mass fall.. "You're sure to enjoy, but do be forewarned that this challenge to your tolerance will be much more strenuous than before." Katana's eyes tracked one of the slave's movements as he deferentially handed Soporanus a narrow rectangular piece of metal roughly the same width of horizontal support at the base of her chest. There was a hole in the middle of the bar. Soporanus centered the hole over the top of the shaft and slowly lowered it down until its coolness chilled the small hairs atop the base of her chest. An order was given and she was pulled upwards by her arms. Her heels left the floor; muscles tightened; rising breasts protruded into more daylight from the ceiling. Loose chains from above were attached to each end of the metal that nearly touched across the top of her chest. "You are just about ready," Soporanus said as he disappeared to sit with the others in the shadows. "Note the slack in your chains. Now I know that the physical strength of your upper body is only a fraction of what's below your waist, however you may use whatever resources to keep the bar pressing down. It's heavy and no doubt will hurt some if you don't lift with your arms and back." He paused and nudged the one sitting next to him on the bench while still addressing Katana . "You can probably already feel its weight tugging downwards...a lesson in gravity if not courage. Oh, and remember there will be more to follow should you succeed in keeping this one off that lovely chest of yours." Katana's arms pointed straight up at the ceiling as the slack diminished, carried lower by the metal. Its cold hardness touched along the base of the tops of her breasts. Reflexively her arms bent back down. Puffing with exertion, she peered down simmering cheeks and saw the ominous shape rise. A gasp caught her pride of accomplishment when she spied another bar being fitted over the shaft's tip. The second weight shot rapidly down the greased shaft. It landed with a clang. Metal atop metal pressed down. Her head flew back with the impact. Katana's mouth formed a scream, albeit a silent one. She did not want to give Soporanus any satisfaction in crying out however much the shock. "She is strong," one of the men seated on the bench with Soporanus noted as they watched the tall blond sweat profusely, alone in her efforts, shadows defining exerting muscles. Slower this time the horizontal bars rose off of crushed flesh. Soporanus nodded his agreement but also said, "Yes though we are not yet through...Watch what happens when a third is added." Bewhiskered lips twisted into a leer. Nipple rings appeared to shrink in size atop ballooning tits already reddened in color. "Resignation under such abuse certainly is to be expected."
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. "Macrobdella Decora" constitutes PART THREE of The Accidental Surgeon. 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 The Accidental Surgeon Part THREE Macrobdella Decora Muffled conversation, the occasional rustle of a passing slave and Soporanus's fidgeting over his tray of surgical appliances softly sounded in a stilled chamber. Facing the men seated on the bench stood a female clad only in a skirt revealing naked legs forming a triangle with the floor and arms pointing toward the ceiling. A nearly solid stack of iron rods rose above swollen mammaries barely distinguishable by color from their background. Two small rings dully glinted from atop her pinned chest. Along the wall a throat coughed from one of the seated men and he asked, "Is she dead?" Soporanus stopped what he was doing and wiped his face on his already stained sleeve. Stooped over the table his gray mouth twisted in acknowledgement. Phlegm choked his throat. Clearing it he said, "Oh no. Just watch this." The practicing, but hardly perfect, surgeon wannabe selected from his array of specialized tools and picked a favorite: his acutus, or sharp hook. Stepping around to wall conduits winding through a macabre ornamentation lining the doorway he approached the unconscious form from the rear, noting that even in this suspension the hour-glass form was neither a conceit nor the trickery of some tailor. Using the acutus Soporanus viciously raked a shallow slice from the top of one shoulder, across the spine, past the elongated torso onto the flare of the opposite hip. The effect proved spontaneous. All awakened at Katana's startled alarm. The void arose immediately in front of her face. A creak of light parted near the top. Her head throbbed and chest felt numb. All Katana could remember was the weight of three bars inexorably pressing down and then mightily fighting to lift them with her arms and back muscles. Maybe it had been four bars, or five or even six before she lost count, power to lift failing, arms stretching higher, feeling like they would dislocate. A sea of lost consciousness then engulfed. She actually preferred the gulf of that unconsciousness but the good news now was that the lighted part she saw between the upper bars widened. Someone was lifting them. Her head fell back. Golden rays no longer streamed in from the ceiling. A dusky sky filled the grating once aglow with sunlight. A slave lifted up and away the final bar. She could make out Soporanus hovering around and the seated men. Faces now showed in firelight from lit torches. The faces appeared callous, heedless of her plight, intent only on witnessing more of her suffering. "These could use some massaging to get the feeling back." The flesh remained supple, however discolored in Soporanus's grasp. His fingers molded and plied the firm warmth. He peered closely at Katana. No more beauty laurels for her... Her features were more asymmetrical now: the cut cheek slightly swollen; swelling across her forehead were she apparently banged her head growing; paler lips now devoid of the fullness and color; once breathtaking golden hair now a tangled mess of lank strands. He continued his particular brand of hands-on therapy with the soft mound and then included its twin. A more natural skin color gradually returned to both. Ringed nipples scrubbed his palms. "I mentioned your crucifixion tomorrow out in the open for all to see, but our private little group here still has more chances today for you to prove how well you handle pain. Keep in mind, we expect and respect a high degree of tolerance befitting one who leads. Why, even our lowliest gladiators are expected to ignore a finger scratch," he leered up at her blood-shot eyes, "or whatever." Soporanus swung a final slap that snapped across both tits and said, "She's ready. Bring it." Katana tried to pull back, but her arms felt so weak. She had to keep in mind what she had been taught about fortitude and stamina regardless of physical weakness. Once the stack of bars were lifted away her arms no longer shot up straight but again bent at the elbows. Despite their new leverage though the power did not return. Another scraping noise, this time more wooden sounding than the noise made by the terrible metal shaft, came from behind. Afraid to look she started, gradually loosing a sigh of relief when she felt her body slightly lifted and supported to be seated on the table's edge. A cup of water appeared. She eagerly gulped, splashing as she drank, feeling somewhat restored as a trickle of the cool water escaped and dribbled down her chest. Her arms may be sapped of strength, but a tingling sensation in her chest meant that her breasts were still there. Quenching her thirst was a small pleasure not to be missed, especially now that her tolerance was so deliberately tested. Soporanus appeared holding up his scalpel. "I imagine that it feels good to be free of those bars. You probably like sitting on that table and having a drink of water too." Katana felt once more like spitting into his smug face but decided not to. "But you do realize that this," he said lifting up a leather plait from her skirt damp from the spillage, "has got to go." The blade shook in his trembling gray fingers as it slid between her lower stomach and the narrow waistband. The sawing and slicing around her small waist began. Ankles locked to wrists forced Katana further back on her spine. The cut across her back scraped the table's wood. The obscenity of her pose was enough to contemplate but the shock of the cream applied to her mound caused her to look anyway. Brown slave fingers applied the white lather between her splayed thighs. The same fingers used a diminutive razor to shave away pubic hair leaving bright wakes of pale skin. Soporanus appeared alongside the head of Katana showing her his small pair of forceps and a curious circle. "This ring is larger than the ones already in your nipples. See these tiny beads? Guess where it goes." The scabrous pate with scattered gray wisps lowered. Her head fell back to rest on the table. The forceps pulling out her clitoris made her wince. Brilliant shots of colors flashed. She turned her head and gasped as it was pierced. "We call this a speculum magnum matrices." Katana blinked up at the construction of bronze strips with a turning knob at one end of a long screw separating the strips. "It's really for your own good," Soporanus chortled as he moved away along the tableside. Katana cringed as she felt her labia further opened and the tool inserted. Thoughts of stamina and bravery flashed by. More colored lightening exploded in her mind's eye. Despite the pain she needed to be strong. Soporanus gave all his might but could turn the screw no more. Holding the inserted speculum as steady as he could he motioned for a waiting slave to ladle warm honey into the gaping orifice. Viscous overflow seeped out. Once the slave finished, Soporanus withdrew the tool. "It appears that you are all set for our next challenge to see how well you accept pain." He let the beaded piercing rest back upon the labia. Gnarled fingers curled around one bare leg's smoothness. The back of the same ring that had cut her cheek felt cool to Katana. "This one has shown impressive courage in tolerating pain. Now its time to take things up to...another level." Soporanus looked down at Katana and said not unlike an arena announcer, "Meet the Actium twins! The two brothers at the far end of the bench rose. Like one, they removed their short tunics displaying Herculean bodies with massive jutting erections. A screech of wood against stone sounded. Katana felt the table she was on jerk suddenly away. With nothing below she dropped slightly. Her sole support rattled. Arm and hip sockets felt ready to pop. She opened her mouth to issue a loud scream just as the unbearable pressure in her limbs eased by hands lifting her ass. Katana's body tilted slightly as it rose. A warm meaty mass she instantly recognized as male covered her forehead. She felt the clit ring beads rub deeper and then a heavy hardness plunge. The thickness filling her seemed to retreat as fingers near her face pried apart her jaws. Her mouth filled with another enormous solid. The pot-bellied patrician friend, a tribune invited along for the show and the stooped figure of Soporanus watched from the wall as the Actium twins, the slickness of their muscled bodies flexing with each thrust, found a rhythm. Between the two rocked the hapless female. Rattling chains, various grunts and the fleshy noises of liquids sloshing to and fro were the only other sounds in the chamber. The room's stifling atmosphere seemed to increase with every thrust and parry of the subjects dancing in syncopation to a bizarre eroticism. A new and different heat pounded through Katana. Despite her suspension, she felt her body reacting to the raw sex. Release would feel good. The heavy balls rolling over her eyes made seeing problematic. She nonetheless sucked harder. If she could not see, at least she could feel the bodies increase their excitement, an excitement that made her own thrill charge. Her desperate appeal for release from such ironic sources suddenly halted. Katana caught a fleeting glimpse of a heavily muscled torso leaving. Frustration mounted until she saw what appeared to be the same torso return. Anticipating more, Katana eagerly ate the fat cock in her mouth, but its taste had changed. The new flavor now mixed with her own. The two males had switched. The clanging increased until first one, and then the other Adonis froze in ecstatic poses. Grunts grew massive with final thrusts. Only the sounds of heavy breathing followed. In the stifling moment, Soporanus gargled his congested throat and motioned for slaves to pull up on the chains. The panting female swung over a large tub. He supervised as she was lowered into the heated water, turning his back only to lift a shallow pan from the table that held his surgery gear. Katana felt the urge to orgasm pulsate. The warm water soothed. The bottom supported much like the table had. All but the base of her neck upwards was underwater. The tops of swollen breasts bobbed just under the surface. Soaked ends of hair fanned across the dark surface. Gism slid from corners but she knew it hopeless to attempt to wipe her mouth clean. Soporanus appeared at the great tub's edge. In his unsteady hands the accidental surgeon held a deep dish also filled with water. Slithering in the dish were small thin bodies. "They are Marobdella decora. Frisky when hungry, aren't they?" The pan shook in Soporanus's quavering grip. "Or many just call them leeches. They won't hurt much when they suck your blood and someday may even be used in medicine, you just never know." Katana's revulsion sent shudders through her entire body. Underarms barely skimming the surface of the tub's water jerked and sprayed, but there was no escaping. Her eyes widened as the squirming creatures left the tilted pan to join her in the tub. "They bounce around when hungry like these," the living gargoyle said as he emptied the pan into the tub, "until they seek out warm bodies...like yours." Night fell as Soporanus separated all but the last of the leeches from the trussed female using one of his surgically sharp hooks to pry them from the living flesh. Where other Marobdella decora had sucked was obvious by the small red rings left by teeth marks and the flow of blood trails. He came to the last-its bloated spotted shape stuck to the back of an upper thigh. As quickly as it fell away, he clamped over the wound a bronze cupping vessel, or cucurbitulae. Filling the cup, he placed it to Katana's lips. Pinching her nose he tilted the blood-filled cup allowing most of its contents to drain into her mouth. With speed and strength belying his age the accidental surgeon closed her lower jaw still keeping her nose pinched and thereby forcing her to swallow. "Drink and then you may retire for the night as you have a very, very big day tomorrow."
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. "Crux Kitana" concludes The Accidental Surgeon series of episodes. None of the story installments are intended to be stand alone and it is recommended that interested readers begin at the beginning. 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 CRUX KITANA Past the rusty iron gate to her cell Soporanus appeared. From the small crack high on one wall Katana could see the morning sky of another day, one that according to Soporanus was to be her last. Behind him two soldiers dwarfed his frail frame. Katana crept closer to the gate and angrily wrapped her fingers around the encrusted metal. She pointedly explained to Soporanus that all of his talk about his peoples' respect for dealing with pain was silly, his fascination with surgery tools bizarre, and that he was a shriveled pathetic pervert whose only source of pleasure was her suffering and no doubt the suffering of others. Soporanus did not disagree with his prisoner's outburst. Contorting his mouth into something of a smile, he wiped his sleeve across his lips and gestured to the accompanying guards. "Bring her." The grate she remembered before slowly circled above. As if reaching for it her arms joined at the wrists, the long tunic given for the night removed. Lowering her chin Katana saw the bench and wall. Where other men once sat now was empty. "I suspect she needs an example of what the scourge can do," Soporanus said, indicating to the one holding the menacing whip and the wooden table Katana recognized from the day before. A loud whoosh! breezed through the space. A crack! followed as tips of the scourge struck the wood. Dust and splinters flew. Katana hung vulnerable and impressed. Fresh tracks appeared across the old table. Soporanus cooed as he cupped one ringed mammary and said, "Just imagine..." Katana squirmed as she felt her ankles locked in position to the floor. She determined not to allow Soporanus pleasure at her expense. Be it the heat of the new day or watching the scourge display as she hung in chains, Katana felt her body warm. A purplish bruise ran the width of her bare chest. A thick line already dotted by perspiration. The beads formed with others elsewhere. Slow trickles began to slick over and down curves. Katana shook her head clear of the brutish demonstration on the clawed table and swore again to not give in to Soporanus. He couldn't break her yesterday like he said he would and today was to be no different. Resistance was hers. Soporanus wiped his fevered brow. On the wall thrown water varied in hue as it dribbled down the spattered brick. Before hung the female, still conscious and unrepentant, albeit head hung low, trailing hair matted over weeping welts. A summoned slave attempted to dab dry the cuts. Soporanus's hearing certainly used to be better, but age had changed that. The panting of his victim now seemed all too muffled. Increasing amplitude would soon increase whatever age had stolen away, he thought, as arthritic fingers ripped two sections from the wool tunic given her last night. Major muscles atop thighs bulged. The statuesque form remained firm but now with bruising left by the weights, bite marks from voracious leeches and the scourge's lacerations, torture clearly showed. Passing the slave the two torn narrow rectangles Soporanus said, "Knot these together just above the hips." No more muffling of her sounds... The lot in which Katana first was first held no longer was vacant but now nearly filled. Dust made more hazy by morning sun blinded, but she made out many military uniforms appearing as smudges of gold, red and brown. Close to one side she made out the purple tunic of Soporanus. Hot wind flapped at the clothes and humans. Blowing grit made the two torn pieces of wool waving between her thighs seem that much more trivial. The gold and red and brown blurs seemed to be laughing at her undress. This naked she should be chilled yet streaming sweat said otherwise. Soporanus struggled to maintain as much dignity as possible as he hobbled into the yard. It was important before so many of his inferiors to retain an air of authority. "Throw her down there," he commanded as they approached the short plaster column. Stooped as he was he stood nearly eye level as she stumbled, her knees plowing small berms in the powdery dirt as they hit. Holding up a small wooden placard affixed along its upper edge with two eyelets he said, "We could have written much more about you but there wasn't enough space on this so, the carved label of "Whore!" shall suffice." He handed the wood to a guard and made way for two others who hefted a much larger and longer timber. Soporanus sniffled in the heat as Katana's hands were unchained, cuffs removed and then arms wrapped over the heavier wood set on the tops of her shoulders. The two guards helped her unsteady rise. Grabbing the placard back from the guard, Soporanus fumbled and attached it to the two nipple rings and then stood back to appraise his subject. The young woman now was nearly as shaky and bent as he, though any possible similarity there ended. Katana fell again, this time landing one knee. The weight she carried and the stretching of her wounded nipples felt too great. A heavy strap across her injured back whapped out wind as it hit her ribs. Wind or not, the sting forced her back to her feet. She shuffled closer to the gate leading out of the military yard. The town was not large but well populated and virtually all of its population turned out. Golden and bronze insignias mounted atop tall poles carried by infantrymen swayed. The parade winded its way through simmering narrow streets. Soporanus rode inside a shaded litter carried by four slaves. His regal gestures did little to dissipate vitriol aimed at the condemned. All manner of insults launched from a crowd inwardly happy that it was someone else and not them being tortured. The mob hurled missiles of whatever proved handy to exorcize their heated emotions. Infantry and mounted steeds bearing gilded riders stepped over rotted fruit, pottery shards, and excrement strewn along the twisted way Katana slipped and crashed. A knee landed in a street drain. A fierce cauldron burned inside and all around. Faces glowered, invectives shouted, her chest and lungs felt like bursting. More lashes fell. From the corner of her eye she saw help in the unlikely form of a soldier. He lifted one end of the beam. Almost grateful for his assistance, she rose back to her feet. A hopelessly confused puzzle of matted hair covering most of her face obscured hope of seeing much more. Each movement shifted added stabs of agony. Back on her feet, the best she could manage was a staggering shuffle motivated mainly by the solid smack of the lash. The breast wrenching sign bounced from side to side, the weighty wood beam seemed more massive with every step. Wind that had gusted in the early morning hours subsided. Desolation surrounding the tall upright replaced what noise the wind provided. Implanted on barren land near the highway leading into the town, a lone omen to all who passed lest they too be unfortunate to hang from its height. This day the eerie silence would be replaced by sounds to challenge whatever the wind could muster. Sounds of the jostling, angry mob began to build as they grew closer to the upright. Katana breathed deeply as she lay. Glare from the sun high over her right shoulder was nothing compared to the latest trials. Soldiers pulled arms no longer willing to resist out along the wood beam she had carried. The placard rocked as it lay atop her panting abdomen. One of the men detached it and then scaled a ladder. Squinting up she saw his figure nailing the sign near the top of the soaring upright. Soporanus wiped his brow with a stained sleeve. Reaching into one of the recesses of his sedan he withdrew a smaller version of the bronze cupping vessel he used before. The band of his ring clinked the metal. A grin flanked by gray bristles broadened as his focus returned to the naked female. "Hope you don't mind being simply labeled as a whore," he said to her as a hammer hitting a nail sounded on what was to be her most dramatic torture device. "You are much more but as I mentioned before, there was only so much room on which to write." Attaching the titulus to her nipple rings had been another idea of his. Now little bloated towers nearly obscured the rings. Swollen and stretched nipples poked skyward from their bountiful mounds of scourged breast flesh, a most generous amount marked by the deep bruise running across their base. The sight made his mouth parched. One of them pressing her elbow down with his knee laughed and tweaked an erect nipple. Katana bent her neck forward raising her head and saw a man's hand squeezing one sweaty breast. A prick stung her wrist drawing away her attention. The swiftly moving object blocked out the sun. Her head fell back hard against the dirt. Sheets of needles behind her eyes rocketed, to be followed by more multicolored bursts. Katana barely recovered. Panic nearly seized. Far below were male and female shapes. A helmet seemed larger than most until she realized that it was a soldier climbing a ladder up to her. Looking down her glistening chest she saw the man taking a knife and cutting away the two knots holding the last vestiges of clothing between her legs. A gasp arose as the two rags, weighted by too much fell to earth. Soporanus smiled his satisfaction. His addition to the nude clearly entertained the mob. Before leaving the garrison he had a cord tie the clit ring tightly so that beads inside its circumference pressed into and rubbed the shaven lips. Another end of the cord was attached to a rectal dildo. Every step the female took moved something. He handed the cupping vessel to the soldier stepping down from the ladder. The man returned up the rungs, pressing the vessel into the female's wet crotch. Filling it with her juices he climbed back down and gave the vessel with its musky contents back to Soporanus. Katana screamed and shook. She strained and forced her hips out. Waves upon waves of passion mixed with pain crashed down upon her body. The rushing flood consumed her psyche. Her cries were of one who instinctively knew the passions she felt were to be her final ones. Release followed release, until she could bear no more. Her legs bent outward and she hung. Soporanus signaled his slaves. There existed no further need to remain. Besides, it was cooler elsewhere.
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