Posted by rathead on January 01, 2001 at 01:07:49:
In the year of '71 B.C., after two years of tough battles and numberless defeats, Crassus' legions won the decisive battle of Paestum against the army of rebellious slaves under the command of Spartacus. Only about six thousand of the slaves survived the battle.
They were all crucified along the Via Appia.
Marcus Sibelius, a centurion of Crassus' second legion, is furloughed after the end of the long campaign. He is riding the Via Appia southward from Rome to the villa of his ladylove at the Albanean Sea, where she is resting from the dust and stench of Rome. They hadn't seen each other for months... and barely ten minutes after his arrival at her luxurious country residence he finds himself laying on his back in her bedroom.
Agrippina's dark eyes were gazing down on him. The eyelids half closed.
"Have you seen the crosses?" she mumbled, while she lowered her pelvis onto his towering cock.
Marcus didn't reply instantly. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment when the tip of his dick touched her moist opening, overcame the slight resistance, and intruded into the meaty warmth. For the first time after six dry months of campaign. He quietly grunted with comfort.
"Mmmmmm... sure," he finally said, following her pace and thrusting into her with slow moves. "I must have seen six thousand crosses on the way from Rome to you. And six thousand poor devils... mmmmmm... hanging on the crosses."
He felt the pressure and warmth as she was resting her hands on his bulging chest muscles.
"Only six thousand?" she muttered. She sounded disappointed. Playfully her fingernails were pressing little crescent moons into his skin. "I thought, it was far more..."
"Many had been... too seriously hurt... they died before reaching the crosses."
"Hmm. Well, yes, would be kind of... pointless... to crucify carcasses."
Her breasts were swinging gently above him. He cupped them with his hands and played his thumbs around the nipples. Agrippina had never told him her age, but he knew that she was about ten years older than he; yet her breasts were divine, large and firm and fresh as milk. The sensitive, rosy nipples responded immediately to his stroking.
For a while they silently indulged in the slow and intense rhythm of their bodies; only the odd moan broke the quietness of the bedroom. She sucked his neck and dug her teeth into his skin, not all too deep, and he enjoyed the delicate pain, inhaling the dark, earthy scent of her hair.
Being a centurion, he was normally in the position to give orders and to control others-- in Agrippina's bed he always experienced the contrary. She was a rich and proud patrician and his military rank didn't impress her in the least. She knew that in essence, Marcus and all his comrades were only paid to protect and increase the wealth and power of people like her. Or to be of any other use-- as he was this moment. He didn´t like her attitude, but he accepted it as natural-- after all she was of higher class. And no other woman was as exciting.
"Tell...," she finally gasped, kissed him greedily, and playfully bit his tongue. "Tell me...," Another violent kiss while her pelvis was hammering down on him more aggressively.
He felt her hot breath and her teeth at his ear. "Tell me... mmmmmmmm... about the crucifixions..."
"Haven't you... seen the spectacle yourself?"
"No... tomorrow." She interrupted the flow of her moves, raised her body, and arched her back. Her weight upon his crotch became heavier and he felt his bulb pressing against the end of her vagina.
"Tomorrow I'll return to Rome... and... I'll take a look then. Tell me: Are most of them still alive?"
She resumed the slow rhythm.
"The last have been crucified only hours ago. They've needed three days to nail them all on the crosses. A lot of work. Many of them are already dead, but... the farther away from Rome you get, the fresher they are."
Agrippina laughed out brightly. "Fresher! You're always so funny!" She patted his cheek. "You mean they are struggling on the crosses like freshly caught fish?"
Marcus grumbled; she was so arrogant sometimes! Another passionate kiss expelled his anger. She lay on top of him and her soft breasts were circling on a thin layer of sweat between him and her.
"Are the crosses stretched all the way between Rome and here?" Her voice at his ear vibrated huskily.
"Much farther... They have... raised a pair of crosses every ten meters. Always respectively one on the left and one on the right roadside. Like an alley of trees. Groaning, sobbing trees, that is. Over a distance of more than thirty kilometers."
She was shuddering. Her movements accelerated.
"So they can look into each other's eyes while they are dying?" she asked.
"They can see each other as long as the crows let them... there must be millions of them... some of the guys are black with crows... and the eyes are the first thing the birds peck at..."
"Ewww... gruesome!" Thoughtfully she added, "I think I will... take all my personal slaves with me tomorrow... I want them to see it... It will be good for their discipline."
Did she laugh silently? Or were the muscles of her belly just wincing with lust?
Marcus would never understand her kind of cruelness. He himself had sunken his sword into the bodies of more enemies than he cared to count, he had killed and mutilated, and he was very familiar with the fever of killing in a battle. But Agrippina... she never killed or even hurt one of her slaves herself, although that would be her perfect right; she'd not even need any reason for it-- amongst the rich men and women of Rome it was a common and accepted amusement to kill slaves just for entertainment.
She had to punish a slave now and then, but she decided the method of discipline and then supervised the execution. Yet, although she never lost her composure and always seemed cool and controlled on such occasions, it was obvious to him that she enjoyed watching it. He knew how much she loved watching gory spectacles. She never missed a show at the Colliseum. For hours she would gaze down into the arena, while streams of blood were reddening the sand and countless poor devils exhaled their lives. And she showed no other emotion than the odd laugh. She loved the gladiator fights, but nothing excited her more than a group of condemned prisoners facing a pride of hungry raptors.
He remembered one day when fifty condemned men were hunted and lacerated by the same number of lions-- and then one of the men tried to escape death by climbing up the arena wall using the garlands of flowers that were hanging down there. His desperate attempt was accompanied by the roaring of thousands of voices, shouting, hooting, laughing, and cheering him derisively. The little bit of extra fun he added to the show was highly appreciated.
He actually made it all the way up the wall till he reached the balustrade. It happened directly in front of the place where he and Agrippina were standing. The man's hands and then his face appeared only an arms length in front of them-- but then he failed to muster the last bit of power to make it over the balustrade. He looked at the spectators and cried for help pathetically. He got none. From below a roaring, raving lioness was pouncing at him, furiously trying to get her escaping prey back, ripping large chunks of flesh out of his struggling legs. Agrippina gazed into his face with intense interest. She only began to smirk when his power was exhausted and the grip of his hands loosened, and she laughed out loud when he plunged back into the depth and crashed into the sand of the arena. Where the lioness was waiting for him. Agrippina had bent over the balustrade and had watched every second of it as a few meters below her the claws and fangs of the raving lioness had shred her yelling prey into peces.
The night after this show Agrippina had been like a wild animal herself-- and he had been half dead by exhaustion the morning after.
Her lascivious voice interrupted his reminiscences. "Tell me about your last battle... have you been killing a lot of these run away slaves?"
He groaned quietly. He knew that he was a good lover-- but that had never been enough for Agrippina. What really aroused her was his business as a soldier. Never was she more passionate than the times when he was coming to her, directly returning from a campaign. She seemed to smell the blood of the slaughtered enemies on his skin-- and that seemed to arouse her more than anything he could do with his hands, dick, or tongue. He always had to tell her about the battles-- in bed. While her greedy pussy was swallowing his dick, he had to tickle her fantasy with the goriest details of his fights.
"Yes," he began, "It was the most horrible carnage I've seen in my life."
She moaned deeply and licked his chest. "Why?" she asked, "I'd figure these slaves must have been poorely armed and undisciplined? Should have been easy for the legions to defeat them."
"No," he continued, "They've been... mmmmmm... poorly armed, but they were desperate! They knew, what would happen to them if they were taken prisoner. The very thing that happened to those... six thousand along the Via Appia."
"Mmmmmm... so they knew that they'd either die on the battleground or on the cross?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Now THAT must have been a carnage!" She sank her teeth deep into his shoulder.
"The ground was red when it was over... more corpses and dying men than I'd ever seen."
"What do you do... ooohh... with the dying enemies after the battle?"
"They are killed and then buried with the others."
"But... why?" Agrippina asked, "Why do you bother killing them? Why don't you just throw them into the pits… together with the carcasses?"
"Because that is military tradition! We are not acting out of cruelty. We are fighting for Rome!"
"Oh course, sweetheart..." she cooed and ruffled his hair. "Tell me of the battle... mmmmm..." She tenderly bit his ear and a shower of lust ran down his back. "Tell me about one that you've killed!"
Marcus closed his eyes and sank into a dreamful, floating state of mind. He felt the hot weight of her body, her sucking fervor enshrouding his cock; he smelled the lust she was exuding. He seized her shoulders, pulled her down onto his chest, and pressed her tight against himself while he continued thrusting into her pussy. When he started telling his story, it was as if the sentences were streaming out of him on their own, and he felt her body shivering with the impact of his words.
"There was one of them I'll never forget... a red-blonde giant, certainly a German… guess, he might have been a gladiator. He didn't have a weapon at all... he pounced on me with bare hands... and he roared like an insane war God! He was strong as a fucking bull, but he wasn't very agile... I could avoid him easily... and drove my sword into his right arm. You know, you feel it when the blade goes all through the bone."
Her breath became faster and louder.
"The bugger turned around and stared at me. Then he looked at his arm, is was hanging down limply, only held by some remaining shreds of muscle and skin. A lot of blood was spurting. And then... I'll never forget that: He grabs the arm with his left hand... and rips it off!"
"Oh Godddd!" she cried, and pressed herself even tighter against his chest, chewing his neck, "Go on!"
"He grinned at me like a demon from deepest Hell... and presented his arm to me. Threw it against me, then! God! He jumps at me again... but he was an idiot, he didn't care how vulnerable he was. I'm rammed my sword into his belly... right below his sternum. But I couldn't pull it out again... the madman didn't draw back... and he grabbed my throat with his left fist and pulled me closer. I drew my knife and rammed it... ooooaaahh, oh dear!... in his kidneys and his side... again and again... till the blade broke off. He was roaring and roaring all the time and he didn't release my neck. I was getting weak... the bastard was one head taller than me and I looked up to his face... and that pig was laughing! He laughed down on me... and... with each laugh a gush of blood came... out of his mouth... he spit the blood into my face..."
Agrippina mashed her pelvis against his groins like she was insane.
"Go on! Go on!" she cried, licking his face greedily with her wet tongue.
"Suddenly the laughter stopped... suddenly his head is away! Only the neck was left... with a fountain of blood shooting out of it. A legionaire had chopped off his head... but still he didn't release me... the headless bastard went to his knees and pulled me down with him... another strike of the legionaries sword and his arm was chopped off, too. I got some air again."
"Oh! Ooooooooh... aaaaaaaaaahhh... that is so..." Agrippina let herself fall into her first orgasm and Marcus followed her.
She dropped on her back exhausted and closed her eyes. He lay close beside her and idly stroked her belly. The dim light was shimmering on her brown skin. He wondered, how a body could radiate so much heat. She was glowing like a coal fire beside him.
"Wine?" she asked after a while.
"Yes."
She rose a bit and shouted, "Demetrios!"
Demetrios heard his Mistress calling for him and went to the bedroom hastily.
He was very unhappy at the moment, but of course he had to hide that. To bother one's owners with expressions of emotion was highly inappropriate for a slave. And dangerous.
He dragged the heavy curtain aside and entered the half dark bedroom.
"Yes, Mistress?" he asked and tried to keep his eyes lowered. Yet he saw the centurion and Agrippina, both stretched out naked on the white sheets. Neither of them bothered covering themselves before the eyes of a slave.
"Bring us wine," he heard her muttering without even looking at him. She said something to Marcus.
"Yes, Mistress."
Both of them were laughing quietly when he left the room.
He hated the centurion. He hated all of the men who enjoyed the privilege of entering her bedroom. She was as beautiful as Aphrodite herself, and none of these guys deserved it to touch her. He cursed silently on his way down to the cellar. He himself would deserve it and he dreamt of it every night... being free, accomplishing all the heroic deeds he knew he was capable of. In the end she would realize that he was the only one worthy of her love.
He filled a mug with blood red wine, put it on a tray, and added two richly ornamented silver cups.
His parents had been slaves, and he himself had been born a slave. But one day he'd be free.
On the way back to Agrippina's bedroom he met Armin, his best friend. They'd grown up together, and it had been the greatest stroke of luck in his life when Agrippina had bought the both of them together. That had been three years ago, both of them had been fifteen years of age that time, and they had been offered for sale by a merchant at one of the markets in Rome.
It had been a day of desperation for both the boys: Without a family, without a home, and facing a future that might consist of slaving to death within a year in a lead mine, their friendship was everything they had-- and this day they would be bought by different new owners and would never see each other again.
After being presented to several potential customers over a couple of hours, this stunningling beautiful and elegant patrician woman appeared. She studied the supply of slaves, asked the merchant the odd question here and there and finally halted in front of Armin. She scrutinized the tall, German boy with factual interest, fingered his well-developed muscles, and told him to open his mouth so she could examine the state of his teeth.
"Looks usable," she finally said, "Do you speak our language?"
"Yes, Mistress, I grew up in Rome."
`Holy Zeus,' Demetrios prayed, `Let her move on! Don't let her take him!'
"I'll take him," she said.
Demetrios was desperate. Now they would lead Armin away and he'd never see his friend again, the only one he had in the world. He struggled to hold back the tears.
"I need another one," he heard the woman say while she moved on towards him. She only threw him a brief, disinterested look, not even slowing down when she passed him.
"Please," he said.
"Huh?" She halted. Arching a brow, she gazed right into his face.
He wasn't supposed to speak without being prompted, and he would be punished for it later, but that didn't matter now. He couldn't lose this chance. He spoke to her, told her about his friendship with Armin, tried to touch her heart. Tried desperately to convince her to buy him too.
She looked coldly at him all the time while he talked for his life-- and finally cut off his words.
"That's all very moving, but you're too small and weakly. I can't use you." She turned away.
"Wait, Mistress!" he almost shouted and she turned back to him, amazed by this unusual behavior from a slave. He kept on speaking, begged, swore to be the best worker she ever had, swore her eternal faithfulness and total devotion... till she interrupted him.
"Okay. Perhaps there is one thing I can use you for one day..." There was a strange, cold smile in her face. She addressed the merchant, "I take both of them. Have them delivered to my house." And then she walked away without a further look.
Never had two slaves been so happy with their fate, and Demetrios was more than happy: He was in love.
"What's up?" Armin asked, "Is the old whore screwing her centurion again?"
"Don't speak that way about her!" Demetrios hissed, "Agrippina isn't a whore! And one day someone will overhear your rebellious words and they'll execute you!"
"So what? Sooner or later she's killing us anyway. She's a cruel witch."
"She isn't cruel! She is fair. It's the divine order of..."
"Ha! Divine order! Justice! And what about Lucas? Selling him to the circus as lion fodder only because one of her rosebushes..."
"But he had failed! He hadn't done his duty. She had to..."
"It wasn't even his fault! She never had to--she wanted to! She did it for fun! She even went to the show and watched while he got eaten!"
"Hssssst! Be quiet! If someone hears you! You'll never get it: She has her place in the divine order of the world and we have ours. She has to be severe. And if she enjoys it somehow... well, that's only natural. The wolf has to kill the sheep and he likes it, too... Holy Zeus, I gotta hurry, she's waiting!"
"Yeah," Armin mocked, "And take a good look at her tits, so you have something to dream of tonight!"
"You're a godless bastard!" Demetrios hissed, but yet he grinned when he hurried on. He could argue with Armin all day long, about justice, about German blockheads and Greek weaklings... but still they were the best friends in the world and each of them would die for the other one without hesitating.
Marcus groaned. While he still was quite exhausted, Agrippina was already getting hot again.
"Your sword can't have turned dull that early, or did it?" she mocked while she pressed herself against him and worked his tired flesh expertly with her hand.
"Where's the slave with the wine?" he tried to sidetrack.
"Forget about the wine..." she muttered and started kissing, licking, and biting her way down his chest and belly till she had reached his dick.
"Tell me more of..." she said and played her wet tongue around the bulb of his dick. With instant success. "Of the battle..." Even a word like battle sound erotic when it came out of her mouth.
"Who else did you..." She sucked his dick in and he felt it poking against her palate. With a smacking noise she released it again and continued, "...kill?"
Her voice sounded husky and aroused. She was smiling like a predator and her perfect white teeth were gleaming before she put them around his dick again.
He just couldn't resist her. She loved these gory stories, and he loved her. Especially, when she was doing what she was doing right now.
"Shortly after-" he began and was interrupted by Demetrios, who reentered, a tray in his hands.
"Here is the wine, Mistress," he said humbly, drawing nearer.
She was kneeling on the bed, her marvelous buttocks stretched towards him like a mocking invitation he'd never really get. Her dark tuft was resting between the legs of the centurion. Demetrios heard a smacking noise. She turned her head and barked at him.
"Why did that take so long?!"
"I... I've been set back, Mistress. Please excuse me!" he stuttered, and his suddenly trembling hands made the silver cups on the tray jingling against each other. He remained standing at the food of the bed. A single, big drop of sweat was running down his temple.
"What are you waiting for? Aren't you going to pour the wine?" she asked, and there was a fine, sharp threat in her voice.
"Yes, Mistress."
He went to her side of the bed, took the cool mug and filled one of the cups. Trying hard not to stare at his naked Mistress. But he clearly sensed her staring at him.
"I think," he heard her say to Marcus in a casual voice, "I'll take all my slaves with me tomorrow when I return to Rome. It'll be good for them to see what's in store for them if they don't live up to my expectations."
Demetrios trembled when he bent over her, offering Marcus the first cup.
"Attention, you twit!" Agrippina shouted, but it was too late: The tray slipped out of his shivering hand. It tilted over and the mug toppled onto the bed. The wine splashed over Agrippina's bare skin like a gush of blood. She winced and produced a brief outcry. A large, red pool spread on the white linen.
… and then she raised her eyes and looked at him. Her face was empty of any expression. Only her eyes were glowing.
His blood froze.
"Oh my God... oh my God..." he whined and tried to wipe the wine off the linen with his bare hand. Mindlessly he even wiped over the naked and wine-smeared thigh of his Mistress. So warm... so tender... so precious... he had never touched her before.
"HEY! Get away from me you pig!" she yelled at him.
He moved back and remained standing in front of the bed. Stiff with angst. Exposed to Agrippina's intimidating gaze, his whole body seemed to get limp. His knees were shaking. What had he done!
"I... I... I didn't want to... please! I..." he stammered.
"But you've done it, Demetrios. You've poured wine over me. And then you dared to touch me." Her voice was perfectly factual.
She continued staring at him. Thoughtfully. He had seen her condemn other slaves to death for minor infractions. Lucas had failed to keep the lice away from one of her rosebushes - the blossoms had died and so had he. Others had gotten away unpunished with much more serious deeds. He believed in her justice, but he never understood it. No chance for him to anticipate what she would do now.
The emptiness disappeared from her face… and became replaced by a cold smile. While she didn't release him from the grip of her eyes, she reached behind herself, took Marcus' dick and began rubbing it.
"What do you think, Marcus," she casually asked, "Shall I let him get away with that-- or does this slave boy need to be punished?"
"No," Marcus grumbled, "I've fought enough with disobedient slaves! I say: No mercy!"
"You're right!" she said, "Demetrios, I have to punish you."
Maybe his punishment wouldn't be too severe if he showed rue and humbleness, Demetrios thought. And of course she was right: She had to punish him. That was a part of her role in the order of the world.
"Yes, Mistress, I understand," he replied, his voice faint and broken. He abandoned the idea of begging for mercy. He only pleaded with his eyes.
Agrippina lay with her back towards Marcus; she changed her position slightly, opening her legs and leading his sword against her scabbard. It entered easily. The centurion put his arms around her from behind and stoked her breasts and belly.
"Hmmmm..." she murmered, stretching herself against him, "That's good... good that you understand, Demetrios. Marcus... keep going. Fuck me while I consider an appropriate punishment for this boy. Your dick is so inspiring..."
Demetrios stood in wait of the sentence, petrified, while he watched Marcus thrusting into his Mistress from behind; slowly at first, then faster and more impetuously till her body shook with each of his thrusts. She didn't take her gaze away from Demetrios for a single moment. The only noise in the room was the rhythmical slapping of their flesh.
"What do you think," she finally asked, "What shall we do with him?"
"Have him thoroughly whipped!"
Agrippina closed her eyes, moaned, and indulged in his furious thrusts. Her face was distorted with passion.
"No," she mumbled after a while, "That is... not enough."
She was on the verge of an orgasm and wiggled wildly in Marcus' arms.
"No...," she suddenly shouted, and stared into Demetrios´ eyes again, "He must die!"
Her eyes licked the horror from his face. Lustfully.
"Today… Right now!"
Tears shot into his eyes. He sank to his knees and now he begged for mercy. He couldn't believe it... he loved his Mistress so much, he had served her faithfully all this time... she couldn't condemn him to death! But his pleading didn't touch her heart. If anything it seemed to touch her clit.
"Wait, Marcus," she said and interrupted his strokes.
"I want to... we want decide on the sentence. How shall he die?"
Marcus grunted with frustration. "Why not send him to the lions, like the last one..."
"Hmmm... not a bad idea, but no. I want him to die today. Right now. Here." She was grinning fiercely.
"My sword's laying beside the bed... if you want me to I can do him..."
"No." She let his dick slip out of her pussy and sat up. "But why don't we have this little bastard nailed to a cross, just like the other slaves at the Via Appia?"
Demetrios gasped and she laughed into his face.
"Yes, that's exactly what we'll do!" she said and covered herself with the sheet.
"Plautus!" she shouted loudly, and after a short while her major domus appeared in the bedroom.
"This slave has dared to touch me. He will be punished by death," she informed him coldly. All the arousal seemed to have dropped off her, only her face was still glowing. "I want him crucified. All the other slaves shall attend the execution. Take care of it, I want the crucifixion to start immediately."
Plautus brought up some objections. He pointed out that it was impossible to find a carpenter to build a cross that fast. Agrippina interrupted him impatiently.
"I want the execution to start in fifteen minutes-- otherwise we will need two crosses! You get me?"
Plautus grew pale.
"Heavens, if you can't get a cross then nail him to the door or whatever! Don't you have any imagination at all?"
"Yes, Mistress, of course. Do you want to be called when the execution starts?" he asked humbly.
"Hmmmm. No... I don't need to see it. But I want to hear it. Execute him in the atrium below my window. I'll take a look at him later... or tomorrow... after all he won't die all that fast, or will he, Marcus? How long do they usually stay alive on the cross?"
"A couple of days, normally."
"That's fine. Oh, and another thing, Plautus: Overwhelm Armin and put him in chains. I don't want him to disturb the execution. Then get him out to the atrium, too. I want him to watch it all when his little friend gets nailed on. He seemed a bit rebellious lately… this will be a helpful reminder to him about his place in life."
"Yes, Mistress. Do you have any further orders?"
"No. Go now and hurry!"
Demetrios was so horrified that he didn't offer any resistance when Plautus seized him and dragged him out of the room. But he looked back at Agrippina, sobbing and pleading. She didn't answer. She looked at him and the sole expression he saw on her face was a thin smile.
After they had left the room he heard her voice for the last time when she shouted, "And we need more wine, Plautus. I'm thirsty."
She pounced on her lover like a raptor and kissed him passionately. Her teeth dug violently into his lips. He tried to get his dick into her pussy again.
"No... just wait a little while," she muttered.
A few moments later they heard shouting voices and the sounds of a fight in the house. Marcus jumped up and took his sword. Dressed only with a sheet he had wrapped around his hips he ran towards the commotion.
Agrippina was still laying on the bed placidly when he returned.
"That German bastard!" he cursed, "He's beat down three of your men and he almost succeeded with ripping the sword out of my hand!"
"And?" Agrippina asked, and her voice sounded seriously concerned, "I hope you haven't killed him? Would be a shame if he had to miss the show..."
"No, he isn't dead. But I had to hurt him. His right hand is history. He's in chains now and they are taking care of the wound."
"Wonderful! So he can watch it! That makes it perfect…" She grinned like a demon… and then she spread her legs most obscenely and crooked a finger at him.
A few minutes later Marcus was laying on top of her, pumping wildly, when suddenly sounds rose from the atrium beneath the open window. The sound of foot steps, muffled voices, the scraping of something heavy being dragged over the terrazzo, the voice of Plautus, giving instructions. Then the whining of Demetrios, the cursing and roaring of Armin, and the clanging of heavy iron chains.
Agrippina bent and wriggled with passion; she was on the verge of a powerful orgasm.
"Slowly... slowly my love..." she gasped, her eyes closed tightly, "I don't want to come before... it has begun..."
"AGRIPPIIIIIINAAAA! YOU DAMN WHOOOORRRRE! I GONING TO KILL YOU!" they heard Armin roar, his shouts accompanied by violent clanking of the chains he was shackled in. Then the enraged voice of Plautus, who tried vainly to silence the raving boy. Sharp noises of whip strokes on human skin followed.
Agrippina chuckled and moaned.
"AGRIPPINA! MISTRESS! PLEASE DON'T!" they heard the fearful cries of Demetrios.
"NOOOOOOO!"
And finally a mighty, dull blow-- followed by a high-pitched shriek. The first nail.
Agrippina completely lost her mind. She cried with lust, finally allowing herself to fall into orgasm, her voice even drowned out the yelps of agony from Demetrios and the furious roaring of Armin. She stretched her pelvis greedily against each thrust of Marcus, she clawed her fingernails into his back and plowed broad, bleeding marks into his skin, she struggled under him like a runaway and only his massive bodyweight prevented him from being thrown off. He too was out of his mind with arousal, but still he took care to keep his throat away from her snapping jaws.
The heartbreaking shrieks of the young slave increased with each of the following hammer blows-- and, like a macabre echo, each stroke was followed by a cry of lust from Agrippina.
BOOM
"AAAAAAAHHHH!!!!"
BOOM
"OH YEEEEEEEESSSSSS!!!"
BOOM
"YEEEEEEEESSSSSS!!!"
Marcus spurted his boiling semen into her and collapsed on her body. For a timeless moment the whole world merged into one. He and she, and the horrible things happening at the atrium… for a timeless moment they were like God; experiencing everything simultaneously: Glowing lust, titanic rage, and ultimate torment. Skin and muscles and bones, pierced and shredded by large, cold nails; immense power, fiercely struggling against iron chains; two bodies, clutching each other, wriggling in ecstasy. Blood and sweat and semen. Wild cries of many throats. All of it merged into one single, raving, bubbling mass of flesh and feeling.
Demetrios died hard and long.
The mind shattering pain from the four huge nails piercing his wrists and ankles merged into one single encompassing agony.
He cried and cried, till he could no longer hear his own screams. It finally faded away to a weak whining and sobbing when his throat sore.
The pain from his stretched and cramping muscles and his aching back drowned out the pain of the wounds. His shoulder joints, which bore all his body weight, seemed to tear-- but they didn´t. He tried to reduce the pain by changing his position on the cross-- the only result was being struck by new, unbearable pain when the sharp edged, three cornered nails ruptured more of his tissue. The inescapable dilemma made him weep: The pain was so unbearable that he had to struggle, but the struggling only made it worse. They had made him his own, personal torturer and he couldn´t stop. No help, no way out-- only death, and death wouldn´t come soon. It would come long after his mind was broken under the torture.
The night became a nightmare of agony and desperation. It never seemed to end. He fell into a feverish and hallucinatory state. He passed out a lot of times... just to wake up moments later and find the nightmare going on. Did he really see it or did he only dream of his Mistress, looking out of the window of her bedroom and smiling down on him by the light of the torches? He tried to call her, to beg her to end his suffering, but he couldn't produce any more than a weak croak. The next time he woke up the window was empty. Yet, wriggling in his torment, regardless whether he was awake or fainted, she was with him all the time: He saw feverish images of her... her elegant fingers holding a goblet, the strange smile when she had bought him, the pride of her walk, the shimmering of her skin in the bedroom... her heard the sound of her voice when she had condemned him to death... and again and again he relived this moment when he had touched her thigh. The moment, he was dying for now.
As time went by, thirst became the most terrible torture.
Next morning the house became silent. Agrippina had left with Marcus and all her servants. She had not even taken a last look at him. He was left to die alone. So he did. He needed two more days and nights before death came.