CruxNico

Sam hadn't even had time to catch his breath when suddenly he received a brutal whip lash across his chest, then another to the abdomen. Sam cried out with every stroke, his back arching away from the upright, but exhaustion was still keeping him hanging from the cross and unable to lift himself. His head was thrown back as he cried out and the lash caught his torso again, the thong of the whip wrapping around his midriff this time and sticking to him. Gasping, Sam looked down at it and realized why it stuck to him. Caius wasn't using the bullwhip they had used previously on him. The lash of this one had small cruel-looking metal spikes tied into it every few inches which pierced his skin and hooked the whip to him. Sam realized what would happen when Caius retracted the whip and he had barely time to look up at the executioner and yell "NO! PLEA-" before it happened.

Grinning Caius yanked the lash back and ripped it from Sam's naked body. Sam screamed as the spikes tore through skin and flesh, drops of blood and sweat spraying in every direction. Again and again the whip came down, tearing into Sam, defiling him, shredding his skin. It wasn't exactly what Sam had hoped for when it came to the quick death he had been promised for fucking himself on the cross, but he'd have to take it. If Caius kept up scourging him like this, he'd expire quickly, his misery would end soon and for that he almost welcomed the abject pain each stroke of the whip caused him. But then the lash suddenly stopped coming. "That's all you'll get for your show, slave." Caius was smirking maliciously as he was cleaning up the whip. "Should take... I'd say about half a day off of you, I'd think. More mercy than a bastard like you deserves, anyway."

"Please... Dom- Dominus, you... you said..." Sam tried to speak, beg, his every word punctuated by pained breaths. "You... promised... quick..." He knew how pitiful he sounded, but Sam couldn't help it. This had to end. This hell he was in had to end. He couldn't take it no more. "Plea- please k- kill me! Kill me!"

Caius chuckled. "Sure I will, slave. At some point. But I got plans and there's a few spectator wishes to fulfill first too. You didn't /really/ believe, I'd spare you those, did you? The men paid good coin for those tortures. So I don't care about any promises made to you of all people. In case you forgot, you are the slave here. You'll do what I want and you'll suffer whatever I need or want you to." He looked Sam up and down for a minute. "I'll leave you that sedile for the night. Need your thighs fresh and rested for tomorrows spectacle and, well, your ass looks better with a cock in it, even if it's only a wooden one."

Wheezing, each breath a struggle right now, his thighs shaking, Sam could do little more than whine pitifully at his executioner's pronouncement. He was exhausted, both his physical and mental strength sapped, but he knew that being able to sit on the sedile would quickly restore the muscle strength in his thighs. 

He dropped his head and looked down at himself. His front was bloodied, the brutal scourging he had just endured had added several new red streaks across his chest and abdomen, still bleeding. Blood mingled with sweat, dripping from his shaking body as the light of day slowly began to falter.

As the light failed, many of the spectators made their way back to the city, but others got more brave as it became harder to see faces. Sam startled as he felt the first hand on his body, one of the men not content to simply watch anymore. He felt his left nipple squeezed hard and as he turned his head he saw a man in his forties grin salaciously at him as he let his hand slowly slide down his side. More hands joined from other men, exploring, grabbing, squeezing, doing as they wanted. It took a while for them to become satisfied and fade away one by one into the night.

His executioners had started a small fire to warm themselves a few yards off and were talking amongst themselves, occasional laughter echoing around the eerie crucifixion site, leaving Sam essentially alone to suffer through the night. 

After the public spectacle of public torture during the day came the long, slow solitary agony of the cross in the night. The sedile afforded Sam some relief, sitting on it allowed him to take some of the tension out of arms and from his thighs and he already felt his muscles recover. But the pain still did not dim, it only shifted. The four nails fixing him to his cross and condemning him to death were spots of burning pain. Whenever he shifted on the cross, even if only minutely, he felt the nails in his wrists shift too, felt them grind against his wrist-bones, felt them tear their holes wider. If they hadn't been bent and twisted by his executioners, his arms would by now have been torn free of the crossbeam, but even as it was, the damage the coarse iron spikes pinning him in place had done was becoming ever more obvious. While in the first few hours on the cross, his fingers might still have twitched when he tried to move them, by now they were paralyzed, his hands looking more like half-closed claws frozen mid-movement. Worse, while he still had some feeling in them at the start, now there was simply a frightening numbness above his wrists. And when he had looked up while there had still been some light, he had seen that his hands had gone a pale blue-ish color. There was little doubt that he had already begun to rot, even if he was still breathing and feeling. And feel he did, the pain spreading like a fire down from his wrists, through his forearms and through his biceps, veins standing out starkly against his skin as his body desperately tried to pump blood into all his limbs.

And even though it was hard to believe, the pain from his nailed feet was even worse, the iron rods impaling his heel bones radiating out agony throughout his feet, his calves and thighs. Whenever Sam readjusted his position, he had to shift weight to the nails in his feet, causing the pain to reach a crescendo. Every time, even though he knew what was coming, even though his throat was hoarse and bloody, even though he ground his teeth together and leaned back his head against the upright to brace himself, every time he screamed out, unable to suppress the howls of pain clawing their way out of his mouth.

To add insult to injury the wooden peg of the sedile in his ass had by now lost the last of the remaining lubricant and started to chafe and rub splintery wood against the inside of his asshole. It penetrated him with its whole length and he felt it move inside him every time he swayed or shifted on the cross. Unable to lift himself far enough for fear of the pain it would cause him, he was stuck on it, condemned to ride it for as long as his executioners wanted, even if turned his asshole inside out during the course of the night.

The minutes continued to tick by. The guards let the fire burn down and bedded themselves on leather mattresses they must've brought. They didn't even set a guard, because... well, what need was there. Sam wasn't going anywhere. He couldn't escape. He couldn't flee. There would be no help. He couldn't even kill himself. He was condemned to hang nailed and naked on his cross while his executioners slept soundly, not even being woken by his occasional but ever more desperate screams of pain.

The night didn't seem to want to pass and Sam became delirious with pain, a haze of agony coming down as there was nothing to occupy his mind but the sensation of his brutal suffering.

Worse, as the sun rose, Sam realized that he was still very much alive. Alive and conscious. There would be another day of suffering and tortures ahead of him. Sam looked to the dead slave on the cross next to him, envying the cadaver for its state.

The guards waited a while until enough spectators had assembled in the morning sun and Sam found himself facing Caius again. He whined pitifully as he raised his head slightly to see the executioner stand before him, his arms crossed in front of his chest, a sharp-looking dagger in one hand.

"Me and my mates were talking yesterday..." Caius said, a cruel grin on his lips as he looked Sam's naked body up and down. "And we think we can try something new with you... You see, since that horse dick of yours is such a large chunk of meat, even when it's a soft noodle, I think I can peel off the skin." He took a step forward and grabbed Sam's chin with one hand, forcing him to look into Caius face. The sadistic glee he read in the man's eyes made his heart race with fear. "What'd you say? Should be quite a ride, getting the skin pulled of your prick."

"No! No! Ple- please! Dominus! Don-"

But Caius hand let go of Sam's chin and grabbed his cock, the other suddenly reappearing and bringing the dagger too bear.

"AH!" Sam felt the blade prick the skin just an inch from the base of his cock, a searing sensation as it cut into him. He tried to wriggle out of the other man's hold, but with the peg in his ass his hips were effectively immobilized. "No! NO!" Sam looked down to see blood welling out from a shallow cut circling the soft meat of his cock, just about where his ball sack attached to the shaft's underside. Caius used the dagger again to make another cut, this time on top of the shaft, drawing down until the cut extended just below the rim of Sam's glans.

"Now, let's see if this peels back." Caius said, unconcealed excitement in his voice. Using the tip of the dagger he pried up the skin where he had cut around the shaft's base, separating the skin from the flesh below until he could get a finger below it and pulled.

"Stop! STOP! STOP!! PLEASE STOP! NO! NO!! AHH! AHHHH!!" Sam began to scream in earnest now as Caius began to pull forwards on the skin flaps he had pried up, turning the skin inside out and slowly stripping it in one piece from the shaft of Sam's cock. Sam bucked and twisted, screaming on the cross, helpless as his cock was flayed and its raw meat was exposed. Caius stopped the moment the striping reached Sam's cockhead and grinned up at his victim.

"There, there, little slave. You weren't using that dick anymore anyway."

Sam was sobbing now, despairing, helpless, as he hung his head, looking at the state of his prick. The skin was stripped from the shaft, pulled forward over its tip. And now Caius began to pull on the loose skin again and the rest began to strip slowly from Sam's sensitive glans, bringing with it new, pure and unadulterated agony. Sam threw back his head and screamed open-mouthed as his executioner flayed his cock. In his desperation and pain he tried to get away now, tried to heave himself up on the cross, tried to put distance between him and the man unmanning him, but not only did he only succeed in inflicting more pain on himself, he made it all even worse as he put even more pull on the skin stripping from his cock. His back arched away from the upright as his hips were kept in place by the wooden peg in his ass and he shrieked in agony until a loud snapping noise rang out. It took him a minute to get his screams under control, but when he finally managed to focus again, he saw Caius holding the strip of skin he had extracted from Sam. The guard grinned broadly at Sam as he lifted the piece he had ripped off to general cheers from their audience.

Sam panted as he dropped his head and whined as he saw the raw flesh of his cock splayed out on the sedile. Useless and ruined, burning pain emanating from what had been his prick.