Criminals get ass beating

Michael Fay canning in Singapore

Im not sure about the authentiity of this pic.

Women strip, parade officer naked

http://www.ibnlive.com/videos/30959/women-strip-parade-officer-naked.html

Hanged Taliban

Taliban castrated and shot

Hanged upside down taliban

Singapore punishment

Apostols torments

They seized Paul and Silas and dragged them into the market place before the authorities, and when they had brought them to the chief magistrates, they said, "These men are throwing our city into confusion.

Paul and Silas are taken into the market place before the authorities. At the center of the marketplace of Philippi was the forum. On the north side of the forum stood a raised platform. It was known as the Bema -- the seat of judgment. It was here that Paul and Silas were brought.

And the crowd rose up together against them, and the chief magistrates tore their robes off them, and proceeded to order them to be beaten with rods. 23 And when they had inflicted many blows upon them, they threw them into prison, commanding the jailer to guard them securely; 24 and he, having received such a command, threw them into the inner prison, and fastened their feet in the stocks

Notice the mob mentality that is at work. This all takes place in the public square of the marketplace. The crowd gathers and it moves against Paul and Silas. The magistrates order the two men to be stripped of their clothes and beaten. Shame and pain are mixed together as many blows are inflicted. But that is not all. They are then thrown into prison and their feet are secured in stocks. They will be forced to sit in an uncomfortable position for hours upon end with no relief.

What would have been your attitude in such circumstances? Beaten, mocked, stripped naked, rejected, and now forced to sit in uncomfortable stocks amidst your own refuse in the most unsanitary conditions imaginable.

Alcohol vendor shaming in Fallujah-Iraq

Shame-based punishments came to be derided as atavistic and downright mean. But shame-based punishments never entirely disappeared.

Just this year, Islamic militants in Fallujah, a place the United States is making safe for democracy, paraded vendors convicted of selling alcohol through a public square, naked. This kind of shaming seems a throwback to an era when there was no legal system to mediate between the emotions of the mob and the wrongdoer, something courts and democracy were meant to avoid.

Public shaming

PILLORY

TARRING
“The Bostonians paying the excise-man, or tarring and feathering.”
A 1774 British print depicted the tarring and feathering of Boston Commissioner of Customs John Malcolm. Tarring and feathering was a ritual of humiliation and public warning that stopped just short of serious injury. Victims included British officials such as Malcolm and American merchants who violated non-importation by importing British goods. Other forms of public humiliation included daubing victims’ homes with the contents of cesspits, or actual violence against property, such as the burning of stately homes and carriages. This anti-Patriot print showed Customs Commissioner Malcolm being attacked under the Liberty Tree by several Patriots, including a leather-aproned artisan, while the Boston Tea Party occurred in the background. In fact,

Shameful exposure

The offender could alternatively be sentenced to remain exposed in a specific public place, in a restraining device.

In the more extreme cases being subjected to verbal and physical abuse from the crowd, which could have serious consequences especially when the hands are not free to protect himself. Some sentences actually prescribe additional humilitation, such as shaving, or combine it with painful corporal punishments

The humiliation is generally intensified if the victim is unclothed (either partially or completely) as the exposure leaves the victim feeling vulnerable and helpless.
Even when not strictly public, humiliation can still be a psychologically "painful" aspect of punishment because of the presence of witnessing peers (such as fellow prisoners), relatives, staff or other onlookers, or simply because the tormentor witnesses how self-control is broken down. This is also true for punishments in class.

Vietnam Pow's story

Don’t Forget Us, the POWs — Don’t Forget Us, the POWs is a very special scene, because I made it after I received an anonymous phone call at home after some of my stuff was shown on a local television program, shortly after I got started. Some vet in our area called me to say I was not talking about POWs or MIAs and went on for an hour and a half to describe some of his experiences. Being a prisoner of war is no picnic. You’re tortured daily, you’re beaten daily. They drag you through a village, from village to village, and try to break your morale, try to go against what you believe in, try to show you that you are wrong, killing kids and women, things like that. As the survivors of a Viet Cong ambush, these two men were subjected to inhuman treatment. They were beaten, stripped naked, and paraded through the streets of North Vietnam. The idea was to strip the soldier of his morale, leaving him with guilt. This treatment either strengthened him or broke him. Vets experience great psychological anguish when attempting to describe such experiences because we feel deeply for each other.

More stories at:
http://www.nyfolklore.org/pubs/voic30-3-4/warstr.html

Marcantonio Bragadino Venetian commander

Marcantonio Bragadino who surrendered to theTurks was given very special treatment - it began with the slicing off of his nose and ears. He was whipped daily, given hard and humiliating labour , forced to kiss the earthunder the Turkish general's feet. His teeth were broken and then in Famagusta's central square - flayed alive. His voice , reciting the misere mei Deus ,gradually weakened. He was dead by the time his executioners knives reached his groin. His skin was stuffed with straw , hung from the mast of Mustapha'sflagship and passed in triumph along the Cypriot coast.



Marcantonio Bragadino- Venetian commander <1569-1602>

The admiral Marcantonio Bragadino was a remarkable Venetian commander who defended Famagusta during the wars of XVIe century against the Turks. It was shown compétant and courageous but, at the end of several months of seat, it was obliged to go. The Turkish chief offered honourable conditions to him and Bragadino left the fortress to sign rendering, vêtu dress crimson of its load, accompanied by the officers by his staff and protected from the sun by a large red umbrella from ceremony. The pasha accepted it initially courteously. But suddenly, during the ceremony, Turkish rose of a jump, showed Bragadino of atrocities towards the prisoners and ordered that the Venetian officers are massacred on the spot.The fate of Bragadino, was worse still. With three recoveries, it was about to be decapitated and by refinements of cruelty, one ordered to the torturer to stop. Its nose and its ears were cut, its body was mutilated, and during 10 days it was, each morning, charged with ground baskets, led on the Turkish fortifications and to stop in front of the tent of the pasha where it was to kiss the ground. One hoisted it with the yard of a ship and one let it be balanced there during hours. It suffered all kinds of mocking remarks sadistic and degrading. Finally, it was led on the great place of the city, was stripped, connected with a pile and sharp sectional view in the presence of the pasha. Its skin was empaillée and walked in the streets on a cow, with its red umbrella above him signs derision of it. And when finally the pasha regained in triumph the Gold Horn, this macabre trophy was balanced with the bowsprit of the ship standard.The skin was preserved at the arsenal Turkish of Constantinople. Years later, the Venetian ones took it again, some say bought it and others stole it. One can see today below the bust of Bragadino a small stone ballot box where its yellowed and seamed skin rests, carefully folded, like a handkerchief in a drawer with linen.

Excerpt

October 7, 1571

Near the Gulf of Lepanto

The future author of Don Quixote, Miguel de Cervantes, served on one of the Christian galleys in what he called the greatest naval sea battle in history and the most important to that time for the safety of Europe. The Turks had been massing an enormous fleet for an invasion of Italy. The preparations began to be reported on many months in advance. It was the year 1571 when that fleet was gathered near a port in Greece, not far from the Gulf of Lepanto.For over a year, Pope Pius V had tried to alert the great powers of Europe to the coming menace. But England, France, and the regional powers of what later became Germany were preoccupied with the turmoil of the Reformation.Only Don Juan of Austria, the bastard son of the king of Spain, was stirred by the danger. Despite his youth, despite his modest standing, Don Juan sent out urgent appeals and eventually gathered a sturdy fleet, outfitted with new warfare technologies invented in the West and rapidly mass-produced by the fledgling ship-building and armament firms of what was later to be called “Western capitalism.” He gathered fleets from Venice and Genoa, from Spain, and from the Knights of Malta. In a deliberately preemptive strike, blessed by the pope, this small fleet set sail to catch the Turkish armada before it left the waters of Greece.The Venetians, on the left flank of the battle line, were especially passionate. Not long before, the Turks had so battered an island port maintained by Venetians (and others) that the Venetian commander, Marcantonio Bragadino appealed for a truce. The Turks promised him and his subjects safe passage — and then took him prisoner, beat him, cut off his nose and ears, put a collar on him, and made him crawl like a dog before the conquering army. In a little cage, he was hoisted up on the mast of the galley so that all in the fleet and on land could see him. Then he was brought down flayed mercilessly, his skin carefully stripped from his body as he died (the skin was later stuffed with straw and sent off to Constantinople as a trophy). Thousands of Venetians and others were slaughtered on the spot, or driven off in captivity for service on Turkish galleys or in Turkish harems.But other elements of the Christian fleets were also angry. For decades now, the Turks had used their near-supremacy in the Mediterranean to make constant raids on the Christian communities near to the sea, and hauled away young women and men for the harems, and stronger men for the galleys.Indeed, many of the galley slaves pulling the oars of the Turkish fleet sailing proudly and confidently into the Gulf of Lepanto were Christians captured in these and other ways. There they were starved, beaten, and living in their own waste, kept just strong enough to pull on the great oars, to which they were chained. Furiously, below decks, some of these galley slaves were struggling to break through their chains once the battle was joined. Finally some did, and rose up from below deck swinging their chains and causing mayhem among already embattled Muslim sailors.

Other source

As the Captain of the Venetian forces at the siege of Famagusta on Cyprus in 1571 Bragadin suffered one of the most brutal and painful deaths imaginable, during a period of history that turned out to be very significant in the relationships between the Christian states of the 'West' in Europe and the Islamic empire in the 'East'.

I'm currently reading a 1936 work by H.V. Morton called "In The Steps Of St. Paul", and he recounts the story of Bragadin's death thus:

When the Turks entered Famagusta, this gallant soldier was brought before the Turkish general, Lala Mustafa, who pretended to execute him. He was forced to bare his neck three times to the executioner's sword, which each time was slowly lowered. Eventually, at a sign from the Turk, his nose and ears were cut off. "Where is your Christ now?" asked the Pasha. "Why does He not come and help you?" Those who watched the scene have left accounts in which they tell with what dignity and in what proud silence the tortured man bore himself. For ten days he was forced to carry earth to the ramparts and to kiss the ground each time that he passed the Pasha's tent. Then he was hoisted in a slung seat, with a crown tied at his feet, to the yard-arm of the flagship, and thus exposed to the jeers of the Turkish forces. At the end of ten days Bragadino was led with drums and trumpets to the great square of Famagusta, stripped, tied to a pillar, and slowly flayed alive ... Bragadino's skin, stuffed with straw, was tied to a cow and, with a red umbrella held over it in mockery, was paraded through the town. The tortured body was cut up like meat and portions hung on the gates of Famagusta. When the Turks sailed for Constantinople they tied the stuffed skin of Bragadino to the yard-arm and paraded it round the ports of the Mediterranean.

My sources dispute what happened next. Alberto Toso Fei's "Venetian Legends and Ghost Stories" book claims that the skin was captured from the armoury in Constantinople where it was on display as a war trophy. H.V. Morton claims that it was sold back to Bragadin's sons at a price. Either way the skin of the Ventian captain now resides in an urn set into a marble tribute to him, which features a head-and-shoulders bust of Bragadin and a sculpted relief of his death scene.

Fei's book quotes chronicles of the time describing the skin when it arrived in Venice:

It was folded in the width of a sheet of paper, solid and palpable as if it were a small cloth; you could still see the hairs of the chest attached to it, and on the right hand which had been skinned the unfinished fingers with the nails which still seemed alive...

Man paraded naked for molesting child-Pakistan

NOWSHERA: A man was stripped and paraded naked in various bazaars for alleged bid to molest a five-year old child at Pabbi town Wednesday. Local residents forcibly strip off driver Murad Khan for allegedly trying to molest a minor boy some days ago. The man was in hiding after the alleged incident and when he surfaced on Wednesday, the locals forced him on nude walk on main GT road for some time. Later elders got released the man by holding talks with the angry residents.

PUBLIC SHAMING- NEPAL

Daily tourist routine was interrupted in Lake Side, the tourist hub in Pokhara, with the spectacle of a Maoist public shaming.

Today the daily tourist routine was interrupted with the spectacle of a Maoist public shaming. A crowd of jeering Nepalis filled the Camp Chowk intersection and surrounding roofs in Lake Side, Pokhara, Nepal’s prime tourist destination. Maoists positioned on the steps of the “S-mart” corner store held up a man in a tattered business suit and smeared his face with black while the large crowd cheered on. It was a supercharged atmosphere. Tourists gathered around the edges of the crowd argued with locals about the rule of law, while all of the Nepali spectators seemed to be calling for blood.

MISCELLANEOUS STORIES OF Humiliation

STRIP SEARCHED-PARADED NAKED

Alexis Bronson, arrested Aug. 5, 2002, for alleged public intoxication, intent to terrorize and battery, said in a lawsuit he filed on his own behalf that he was strip-searched with a uniformed female present. Then, he said, he was "paraded completely naked into the main reception area, in full view of male and female officers, civilian employees, other inmates ... then slammed to the floor face first by force in a 'cold room' with no water, toilet, clothes or bedding ...''
Bronson, 43, a Web designer and computer consultant for small businesses, said in his suit that he was kept in the cell for approximately 12 hours. The district attorney declined to file charges, he said, and he has also filed grievances with the Office of Citizen Complaints and the sheriff's internal investigations unit.



STRIP SEARCH- PHOTOGRAPHED

George Lazaneo and his fiancee had spent the afternoon of March 16 at the movies. Three blocks from their San Francisco home, a driver ran a stop sign and bumped their car.
Fearing the driver would flee, Lazaneo, 38, asked his fiancee to call police. Minutes after their arrival, officers took Lazaneo -- to his astonishment -- into custody.
He later learned why: an old warrant. From 1995 to 1997, Lazaneo managed the Trocadero Transfer, a South of Market nightclub that received numerous noise ordinance citations. When the nightclub closed in 1998, Lazaneo said, he was assured the citations had been dismissed or resolved. Lazaneo was unaware that a no-bail warrant had been issued for him for a noise citation, he said.
At the county jail, Lazaneo underwent a strip search.
"It was just like in the movies," he said. "Take off every stitch of clothing, run your fingers through your hair, open your mouth, do a 360-degree turn, lift the back of your feet, bend over, spread your cheeks, turn back, face the deputy, pull up your scrotum. Then you are issued the jumpsuit."
But minutes after the search, Lazaneo said, he was told to disrobe again so a female jail employee could photograph his tattoos, he alleges in a lawsuit filed last month.
"I covered myself with my hands which they didn't have a problem with," he said. "There are pictures of me naked that I've never seen and I have no idea where they are.''
Sheriff's Department spokeswoman Eileen Hirst said photographing is done for "investigative or classification purposes such as documenting gang tattoos.
... Only the relevant portion of the unclothed body is photographed.''
In Lazaneo's case, none of his tattoos -- one on each arm, one on his neck, one on his lower leg -- is gang-related, said his attorney, Kirk Boyd.
"If they were only photographing his arms and legs, they didn't need to strip him naked and stand him there where they could see his groin,'' Boyd said.
Lazaneo spent the night and most of the following day in custody before his case was discharged.
"It was a nightmare that kept getting worse and worse,'' he said. "I wasn't Mirandized, I wasn't able to make a phone call, I didn't know why I was being held. ... They kept asking about a criminal background that didn't exist.
The feeling I got was that they thought I was a criminal. I tried to be dignified. I didn't raise my voice, I didn't beg."
When he was released late March 17, the first thing he did was buy cigarettes -- he'd quit smoking six months earlier.
"I couldn't believe it happened, it was medieval," said Lazaneo, who now works as a warehouse manager for a wine distributor. "I could have lost my job if I hadn't been able to document this ridiculous story. It was the worst, most degrading experience of my life. For 30 hours, I knew what it was like to feel powerless."

STRIP NAKED-TORTURED

A 22-year-old man, originally from Leupung Sub-district in Aceh Besar District, was arrested on 8 June 2003 and taken to Aceh Besar Police Resort (Polres). There, over the course of four days he was reported to have been beaten with a rifle butt, a rattan stick and leather shoes, kicked, trampled on by some 30 people and burnt with a cigarette. He was allegedly ordered to eat an instant noodle box and swallow a metal bolt nut. He was transferred to Lambaro police station, Aceh Besar. There he was reported to have been kicked, had the muzzle of a SS1 assault rifle placed in his mouth and he was trampled on. On one occasion he was reportedly forced to strip naked and to stand on his head and on another to perform oral sex on a fellow detainee. His hands were crushed using the metal bar used to secure the cell door and his eyes poked with fingers. He was forced to drink alcohol and smoke marijuana. In Keudah Prison in Banda Aceh, to where he was later transferred, he was ordered to run barefoot on hot tarmac with the result that the soles of his feet were burnt. He is since believed to have been put on trial, although the outcome is not known.

FORCE TO STRIP NAKED in public view

In Jamaica, four men were arrested in 1996 for "gross indecency." The men, two of whom were partially clothed, were forced to strip and stand naked in public view until the following day. A mob gathered and threatened the men, who were then taken into custody, raped, and forced to clean other inmates' toilets with their bare hands. After inciting other inmates to attack the men, the police gave the inmates access to the men's unlocked cells. In Jamaica, consensual sex between men is crime punishable by up to ten years in prison with hard labor.


Army Major and Colonel, Stripped beaten and executed

On July 29, 1966, while Major General Johnson Aguiyi-Ironsi was staying at Government House in Ibadan, northern troops led by Major Theophilus Danjuma and Captain Martin Adamu stormed the building, seized Ironsi and his host, Lieutenant Colonel Adekunle Fajuyi, and subsequently had the two men stripped naked, flogged and beaten, and finally machine-gunned to death. Other northern troops, led by Lieutenant Colonel Murtala Mohammed, the real leader of the counter-coup,


Volunteers stripped naked in front of other volunteers

In November three volunteers at a military camp were seized by the security forces there, stripped naked in front of the hundreds of other volunteers, and had acid poured on their genitals. The forces responsible then shaved the initials, "GMI" (the title of the security forces) onto their heads. The affair was referred to the Police Commissariat in the city of Thiaroye where it occurred.

Tied on the cross

Trio beaten and stripped naked by angry mob-Africa

Tembu king Buyelekhaya Dalindyebo assaulted three of his subjects with a sjambok to stop them from being beaten to death by an angry mob.


The Xhosa monarch, a relative and clan nephew of Nelson Mandela, testified on Tuesday at the Mthatha High Court in the Eastern Cape, where he faces 26 charges including murder, kidnapping, arson and extortion.

His account of events differed dramatically from those described by 32 state witnesses over the past three months.

'The people did not like my suggestion'
The state has alleged that the king participated in the savage beating of three men suspected of being criminals; ordered the fatal beating of a fourth subject, an 18-year-old youth; torched three homesteads of "disobedient" residents who refused to pay fines; kidnapped a woman and her six children; and ordered his victims not to report anything to the police.

But according to Dalindyebo, a mob of residents suspected the trio not only of breaking into a house and gang-raping a woman, but of kissing the wife of a wheelchair-bound villager.

While the burglary and rape would have to be dealt with by the police, the kissing was what "they wanted to report".

Dalindyebo, 41, testified that on January 23 1996 he arrived home (his palace, the Great Place) to find a large group of residents waiting for him. After resting and having a meal, the king joined the group and discovered that the men had been stripped naked and beaten, and were lying on the floor.

Their bodies were covered with "many wounds" and their heads were swollen. The angry mob were insisting that more punishment - in the form of beatings with sticks - be dished out. But Dalindyebo suggested that the "young men's parents should be the ones to assault them".

The judge said the king ruled by fear and that
"The people did not like my suggestion. So I came up with the option that the three men should be assaulted by me," he told the court.

"No sane person would have assaulted those men in the condition they were in. I assaulted them with a sjambok."

Judge Sytze Alkema paused the proceedings and asked: "You are a sane person. Why did you assault them?"

Dalindyebo: "It was because the mood of the people who brought them (to the Great Place) was to assault them to death. I assaulted them because I wanted the assaults to cease."

Dalindyebo added that when searching for a place to issue the "light lashings", he saw that the only place where there were no marks or wounds was the buttocks.

But, despite admitting their "condition was very bad", he claimed he did not issue more than three lashings per man.

Also, according to his information, the men - in their 20s and 30s - confessed that their "boss" was Sazisa Wofa (the 18-year-old who was beaten to death soon afterwards).

"Their defence was that it (kissing the married woman) was a childish, irresponsible act of compulsion, because Sazisa was in possession of a firearm and they were scared of him," Dalindyebo said.

The king was scheduled to resume his testimony today, when he was to address the issue of ordering Sazisa to be located and punished "in the same manner as the other three".

Dalindyebo further testified that the three men had been beaten before they were brought to the Great Place and afterwards. He did not know what condition they were in after he assaulted them.

After issuing a few light lashes, he stepped out of the hut with his sjambok and a few minutes later heard screams from inside. He discovered that a member of the mob was busy beating the men with a stick. He ordered the beating to stop, and it did.

"If you could stop it at that stage, why not earlier?" Judge Alkema enquired.

"If I had ordered a stoppage they would have taken away the men by force and killed them.

"When I saw the disrespect afforded me, I thought I had no authority and the crowd did not regard me as a king."

Earlier, when asked why he did not overrule a community decision to evict the residents by burning their homes, Dalindyebo said the perception that a king's word is like "heavenly instruction" was false.

But last week the judge said the king ruled by fear and that his subjects obeyed "slavishly", fearing that their homesteads would be burnt.

State witnesses testified that the king beat them with a sjambok until he grew tired, and then invited anyone from the group to continue the beating.

According to the state, the three were beaten so severely that two were taken away on a tractor while a third was too weak to be moved and spent the night at the Great Place.

Unlike last week, the courtroom was packed as the king told his side of the story on Tuesday.

Cruxificion Story- Fiction

Ayzintion City - The Crucifixion


As a reminder, Ayzintion City is a place like no other place on earth. It is city where the slave traders come, and the slave buyers come, and the entire city with its ancient buildings and associated businesses are all linked to the trade. It is a place where the Eastern Province and the Southern Province converge, and sometimes the slave auctions will trade as many as a thousand boys in a single week. Ayzintion City has existed since the first maps were drawn, and while it is well known among those that deal in human flesh it is almost unheard of outside of that elite circle. The city is hidden in the mountains, and it is surrounded by water and deep ravines. Unless you know the way into the city, you would never be able to find it. The majority of all slave trading that is done has its roots to Ayzintion, and if you are interested in buying or selling or you need to find a boy to own it is there that you will be drawn.
I stared down the road and saw them, the two men, and my heart started to pound. My name is Ashton Lyman, and I waited all morning so that I would have a good spot. In all of my twenty-five years I never have seen an execution, and I just wasn't going to miss this opportunity no matter what. Normally, men who break the law here in the city are whipped and then released. If their crimes are especially serious, then they are given into slavery, finding themselves in the slave pens and their freedom gone forever. And if their crimes are extremely heinous, then the council will have them gelded, and sometimes even their cocks are taken if they are especially evil. Afterwards, depending on their sentence, they can be chained in the pits for several years, or even for life if it is mandated.
While the provision is in the law and the council has the power, it's just rare for a prisoner to be executed. For one thing, it isn’t necessary, and the punishment of a forced gelding and a following enslavement is usually sufficient that it is all the deterrence that is needed. So, it is very rare, in fact, extremely rare, that any man will be sentenced to die, no matter what is his crime. I was an eleven year old boy the last time it was done, and my mother wouldn't let me see any of it.
Still, I later saw the body, still stretched out on the cross, hanging down on the main road that leads into the city from the ravine. I remember seeing it, bloated, with its eyes plucked out and the flesh rotting off the bones. Still, it fascinated me, and my young mind tried to fathom what it must have been like to see him nailed in place, hanging there and waiting to die. So, this time, I am here, and there is no way I would miss it.
These men, as far as I'm concerned, deserve their crucifixions. They raped, and then killed, a councilmen's daughter. Councilman Rotigius lost his eight year old girl to these men, and so there is no sympathy for them at all. Still, I think if it had been someone else's daughter they had raped and killed, then they never would have been sent to the cross. Instead, they'd have probably been nutted, and perhaps even de-cocked, and then enslaved for the rest of their miserable lives as eunuchs. But they would have been alive.
Oh well. They did it, and so they will pay for it and so be it. The one in front, Milen Tenol, is right around twenty. He is no stranger to the city, and I knew him when he was a teenager. He's always been in trouble, and he's been whipped before. I guess I always thought he would someday get into serious trouble.
Milen's hair is blond, and unkempt, and he is straining as he carries the weighted cross piece. His arms are tied to it, and as he struggles with the weight and gets closer I can see that many along the road are spitting at him. He looks dirty, and I can see he's been whipped. Well whipped. There are red stripes down his legs, and along his thighs, and even some across his belly where the whip wrapped around him and found its mark. His cock is hanging, limp, hanging down shamefully and oh-so-small, almost as if it's trying to hide from all those that are staring. There is a red line across the middle of it, and apparently the whip hit him there. I wonder if he was hard when it happened?
Milen is looking at the dirt as he walks, his naked body staggering under the weight of the wooden beam that will be his doom. His body is sweating in the noon sun, the heat making him sweat and as he gets closer I can see it is making him glisten. As I look at him I have to wonder what possessed him to kill a little girl. I have no idea, but I find that I am anxious to see him on his cross.
The other man, behind Milen, is in his mid thirties, and his black disheveled hair is wild and matted. They call him Arthin. Arthin Vinovich. I do not know him. He's got a beard, a thick, scraggly beard, and his eyes are wild and he's staring down the road. He's a hell of a man, with strong muscles that indicate he's been worked hard in his life. His arms are powerful, as are his thighs, and compared to the younger man in front of him he's much stronger and meaner looking. His nuts are huge too, and his big sac is so full of his manhood that it catches my eye. Only the nub of his cock is visible, staring out of his pubic hair like an egg in a nest, the small knob tiny and hidden with his humiliation.
He has been whipped too, and his legs and ass and back are striped red from the lash. There are a couple of big welts across his chest, and at least one on his cheek. His left nipple has been ripped, and while it is clotted now it has bled some and there is little doubt he still feels the burn. They have not been kind to him, and he is well marked.
God. It almost looks like he is looking in my direction, but since I'm standing by the vertical post that will hold his beam I'm sure it's that, and where he's going that is holding his gaze and has nothing to do with me. I wonder though, is he anxious to get here to end the long walk and the agony of the weight he is carrying, or is his look one of dread knowing what is waiting for him when he gets here?
He too is sweating. Both men have been walking for close to a mile, out from the main city gate and along the road that leads to the ravine. The crossbeams they carry are huge, and probably weigh close to a hundred pounds. There is no mercy from the guards escorting them, and no mercy from the crowd that watches them pass by. Arthin has a lot of body hair, a great big burley man, and I look into his eyes and for a second he looks back. As I stare at him it occurs to me that he will die here, where I am standing, and as he gets closer I cannot help but wonder what that must feel like to him.
He looks away, and I am glad. Both men are straining, sweating, as they stagger under the weight of the big timbers that are lashed across their shoulders. These are heavy beams, and it is on them they will hang until they die. Big beams, square and rough cut, and where the have rubbed across their backs the skin has become raw and reddened from their long walk.
They are close now. Several of the city's guards are waiting next to the two posts that are sticking out of the ground. They do not seem to be anxious, or eager, but are waiting patiently for the two prisoners to arrive so they can get it done. Milen stops, and sees them waiting, and when he does he hesitates, not wanting to go forward anymore.
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!
The whip cuts the air like a knife, and he screams, and staggers onward, the two cuts with the whip stripping across his naked ass and one ripping clear around him, a red welt rising right through his matt of pubic hair. His eyes are staring up now, as he staggers. Twenty feet. Ten. Then, at the same time, they are here, in front of me, and the guards I am next to. Milen glances to me, and for a brief second our eyes meet and I sense the recognition. He looks down, and his face flushes red with shame.
Several of the guards take Milen then, grabbing his crossbeam first, and they pull him down by his big beam so that he is flat on his back and staring up at the hot sun. I am so close I can see the hairs growing around his nipples, and his thick mat of blond hair above his cock. I saw him naked a long time ago, when he was thirteen and we were swimming. We were just boys then, and I remember his little dick and his wisp of hair that had started to grow across his groin. I guess I remember that day because of the ribbing we gave him.
Well, he's grown a bush since then, and now it's damp from his sweat. There is also sweat on his belly and his legs are even dripping. He has a dusting of light blond hair on his legs. His chest is smooth, and his dime-sized nipples are pointed and firm. His face is smooth as well, with only a wisp of hair on his upper lip.
He looks young for his age, like a teenager ready for his first date. That thought makes me look downward, and there his sac of nuts is round and full, his twin orbs that got him into so much trouble are hanging down between his legs. They are round and full, and hanging underneath his nub of a cock. His balls have grown a lot bigger since I saw them last. As I look at them I wonder if he will keep his balls, or if they will take them as part of his punishment. I haven’t been told, or heard, and so as I stare at them I am thinking of the question and trying to make a guess as to an answer. Since his crime is sexual in nature, I suspect he will not die a man. At least, I don't think he will. I wonder if that has occurred to him?
Two of the big guards have his left arm, one holding downward on is hand and the other smashing his arm into the beam. He is mubbling..."NO! PLEASE...PLEASE...NOT...DON'T...OH...."
Then, as I watch, they are holding a spike, and it is made of iron and is fat and thick and long. A third guard sets the spike right on his wrist, just back from the joint, and presses it downward into his arm, so that the point of it makes an indentation there. It’s a square peg, and is at least five eights of an inch thick all along its shank. Milen opens his eyes, and sees it, and then he looks at the man with the mallet...and then suddenly the guards hand is in motion and he slams the heavy mallet down, hard, smashing it into the end of the spike and driving the long piece of thick metal straight through Milen's wrist.
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Milen screams and his entire body jerks, and he tries to sit upright the shock is so great. His body shudders, and he is then screaming and screaming and screaming. I've never heard a man scream like he is screaming then, screaming at the top of his lungs. As he screams the big guard slams the mallet down into the nail again, and then again, pounding it through his arm and into the wood, until it is imbedded as far as it will go. I stare at the nail that has been driven through his wrist, and it has a big flat head on it and its pressed right up against the flesh. His wrist is clinched, but it is spasming in an almost unnatural jerking movement, out of control, just jerking and rippling. His fingers spasm open and closed and open and closed. He screams like a madman as he jerks and struggles with every muscle in his body.
He is trying to move his right arm then, to get it out of the way, and he is jerking it against the ropes that bind it to the beam. He's desperate, and trying to get it loose. Just then the three guards grab it, and as they do he bucks his hips and arches his back, his legs flailing as he struggles like a maniac. God he doest want them to nail it too! He starts begging them, begging them in great heaving sobs, with a desperation that knows no bounds. They ignore his pleas, and instead go right to their task. It happens then, in spite of his begging and the screams he is making. I see it all. The nail is set in place, right in his right wrist, and then, the hammer is once again a blur, the heavy iron mallet slamming downward, hitting the nail head squarely and driving it right through the man's wrist and into the great wooden beam. He screams anew; a cold chilling blood curdling scream that doesn't even sound human. I've never heard anything like it, and I don't think anyone else has either. The guards pound the nail again and again until it is set and the entire shank is buried as far as it will go.
His partner in crime has fallen to his knees, the shock of watching his friend getting nailed to the cross beam more than he can bare. He tried to turn, to run away, even with his beam tied to his own arms. The guards leave the younger man writhing on the ground, nailed to the big beam, with his legs flailing and his back arching as he struggles. He can't get up, and he certainly won't be going anywhere. They turn then to the older man, who has gotten back up and is staggering away, trying to flee. Of course, with the big crossbeam he's lashed to he can't really run, and the guards just grab it and use it to drag him backwards, one guard on each end of the beam. Soon, he too, is flat on his back, and as I watch they nail him in the same manner as they did his friend.
"NNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOO!" he screams." "No....NO!!!!!" Don't...PLEASE DON't NAIL ME!!!!"
Of course, they ignore his pleas, and if anything, his begging excites the crowd. Suddenly he screams "FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!" when the first nail penetrates his wrist, and he slams his head backwards in frustration and beats it against the wooden beam that he is being attached to. He pisses himself then, the yellow stream just squirting out of his nub of a cock, spraying out of control and then he just empties his bladder, mudding the dirt between his legs.
He stares but says nothing after that, sucking up the pain instead, and just staring at the sky as he listens to his friend still screaming next to him. Finally, his cock stops pissing, and after that he just stares, and mumbles. He turns his head as the guards take his other wrist, and in a whisper he is begging.
"Please...please don't nail it....just use the rope. PLEASE MAN...JUST USE THE ROPE!"
He begs and begs and begs. Still, even as he begs, there is nothing he can do to prevent the next nail from being pounded through his other wrist, and as it happens the shock of it is so great that his lips open in spite of his attempts to keep them closed. After that he too is screaming, just a wild, open, and piercing scream unlike anything you can imagine. As I stare at both men, screaming in their hideous ways, I can see their hands still jerking in wild spasms, the nerves obviously damaged and from their expressions of misery hurting now in a way that can't even really be imagined.
The guards are smiling though, and they seem to be enjoying themselves. The crowd has formed a circle around the area where they will be crucified, and I am as close as anyone. The guards have two long rods, made of wood, and they almost look like they have been taken from the staff from a spear. They are round and fat, with a thicker base that tapers upward toward the end. On the average they each look to be about two inches in diameter, and are about two and a half feet long. They are stout little poles, but it is the ends of them that catch my eye. One end on each rod has been carved into what looks almost like a lemon, a big bulbous end that is round and big, and tapering to a point. At its thickest point the lemon-shaped end is almost the size of a teenager's fist. I am trying to figure out what these short poles are for, but I have no idea. Are they going to beat them with these clubs? They are slightly curved, almost like the horn from an animal, although they are made of wood and are not as smooth as a horn would be.
Someone calls out what I am thinking: "What are those?" One of the guards looks up, and grins, and then he says "Their sediles. Watch, and you'll see." The guards move to the older and bigger of the two men then, with his hairy, bearded face. Two of the guards each grab an ankle of the bigger man, and then they stretch his legs apart, wide apart, a third guard holding one of the wooden horn-shaped dowels. I notice the man's hair is thick on his body, and his legs have a thick down on them that seems to emphasize his manliness. As they spread his legs I am staring at the short little pole in the guard's hand, and for a brief second when I see his round little sac of balls I think they are going to smash his testicles with the little club they are holding.
Arthin feels them pulling his legs apart too, but he seems consumed by the pain in his wrists and doesn’t seem to really notice. The guards next lift his legs then, upwards, pulling his legs forward so his feet are stretched over his head. As they do that, I am staring at his pink hole. He's got a big hole. His rosebud of an ass is pink, and it too is ringed with black curly hair. Then, as I watch, another guard takes the little pole and pushes the big, fat end, the one that looks like a lemon, right up against the man's hole. I can't believe what I am seeing, but I am so close that I do see it. I am close enough to see that the fat end has been greased up with tallow, and it glistens.
The guard pushes, hard, and Arthin notices it then and screams even louder. He clinches shut the muscles in his ass, to attempt to keep out the invader. It doesn’t do him any good. Suddenly the guard gives the pole a twist, and at the same time he pushes hard, putting his weight forward and into the pole. As I watch, the lemon-shaped end just pops past the pink ring of muscle and after that the big lemon sized end fills his hole, and disappears from my view inside of his ass. As his ass swallows the big piece of wood, the _expression on the big man's face is priceless, and I will never forget it. I don't think Arthin can believe it then, and he continues to scream, but with a new and even more desperate intensity, his entire asshole now stuffed with a wooden dowel rod and the big lemon-sized end filling him up without mercy. He's a man wild and in misery then, jerking and fighting and screaming, nailed in place and now with a wooden rod jutting out of his ass like a stuffed turkey that has been skewered for the fire.
There is another effect that seems to happen almost simultaneously with the intrusion of the big dowel into his rectum. His tiny cock, which was a little humiliated knob almost hidden in his nest of pubic hair just a few minutes before, is thicker now, and as I watch it the man's cock grows. It seems to grow from nothing, getting longer and longer, and then it's jutting upward, the stimulation from the big rod in his ass more than he can ignore. His little cock just seems to grow like a small tree, getting thicker and longer and soon enough it has grown much longer than I would have thought possible from the tiny nub he had displayed before. A few in the audience gasp as it enlarges so obscenely. Surprisingly, he's got a big, fat cock, and as the foreskin retracts, I can see his big mushroom head of his dick as it comes into view in front of everyone.
One of the guards mocks him, and says: "I see you like a rod in your ass." They guards all laugh then, as do some of the crowd that heard it, and then they turn their attention to the blond. When the younger man sees them coming he starts jerking and fighting. Milen sure doesn’t want one of those shoved up his hole! However, when he tries to pull his arms he screams, and the pain shoots through him. I can immediately tell he can't do anything with his arms, as it hurts way too much to move them in any manner or in any direction.
He's helpless. He certainly can't do anything to keep the guards from lifting his legs and spreading his hole. The younger man's hole is smaller though, and it's wrinkled and clamped shut oh-so-tight. It is quite apparent to me that the big lemon end won't fit. I think the guard knows it too, and he hesitates then as he eyes the boy's hole and the bigger piece of wood that is meant for it. There is no way it can fit....but then, the guard holding it against his hole, picks up the mallet, the same mallet he used to nail the prisoner to his crossbeam.
As I watch, I can hardly believe what I see. With a hard slam he takes the mallet and then drives it directly into the other end of the wooden dowel, hitting it square and so hard that it literally drives the fat end right into his rectum, much like a nail is driven into a piece of wood.
Milen screams, and jerks, tying to slam his legs together as the pain of the invader fills his rectum. Simultaneously, the wooden rod disappears into Milen's hole, his ring of muscle tearing in order to accommodate it. The guards don't seem to care, and they even laugh as the rod pops past the young man's asshole and is driven in place. Surprisingly, the young man's dick goes hard too, rock hard, and it rises up so fast that it's hard to believe. After that it juts up and outward and then it just bobs to his heartbeat.
Both men are screaming again now, arching their backs and screaming as if there is no tomorrow coming. Suddenly, in only a few minutes, the world for the two prisoners has been reduced to the pain in their wrists and the pain in their ass. There is nothing else but wrists and hole, wrists and hole, wrists and hole. OH GOD HOW THEY ARE SCREAMING! They are freaking too, and in panic, and yet as the quiver and struggle there is nothing at all they can do, except to live the experience of their own execution and wait for death to overtake them.
Suddenly, there are more guards, and they are lifting the two beams upward, with the men nailed to them struggling as it is being done. The pain of course for each of them intensifies a hundred fold as they are lifted, and I can tell that the men are going crazy from it. At first they are lifted to their knees, and then their feet, and dragged over toward the vertical posts that will hold the beams. There are several crude ladders next to the posts, and as I watch the guards use the ladders to hoist up the cross pieces, with the men nailed to them, and sit them into a groove on the top of each of the vertical poles that are affixed into the ground.
There are enough guards that the task seems to go easily. The prisoners' feet are both flailing, and as they hang from their wrists they are screaming even louder, as if that is possible. It’s a totally inhuman cry now, and the shriek is so loud and so fearsome that the hairs on my neck prickle. I stare at the old man with his beard, and it is obvious he can't believe what he is feeling. I can see him struggling, his back arching and his feet kicking, scissoring the air as his life and misery become one and the same.
Finally, the beams are affixed in place, and the two men are hanging from their crosses, next to one another, their feet kicking the air and struggling, almost as if they are desperate to reach the ground. As I watch, the guards then go to Milen. Two guards each grab a leg, and then they are lifting him, and for a second you can sense the relief in him as the weight is lifted off of his wrists and the nails that are through them. I can't figure out what they are doing. Then, as they lift him very high, I suddenly can see why and have it all figured out. As they do that, one of them guides the end of the wooden dowel that is jutting from his ass, and they maneuver the prisoner until they get it aligned where they need it to go. Finally, the guard holding the end of the rod guides the shaft into an angled hole that is in the vertical post and has been drilled to accommodate it.
Once it is in place, they lower the man being crucified back downward, letting him slide downward once again until he is hanging by his wrists again. Only this time his weight pushes him downward onto the pole that has been impaled in his ass, and which now is affixed to the vertical beam that supports the cross bar. So, this sedile, as the guard called it, is a seat of sorts and it can't be comfortable. In fact, in a very real way, it appears to me that he is being fucked as he is being crucified. The sedile is crude, and as it impales him he can do nothing but kick his feet and try to lift himself upward with his arms to keep it from ramming into his prostate.
The guards aren’t done with him though. They grab his left foot, and pin it against the side of the cross, with his knee bent so that the bare foot is lifted. They point the toe of the food downward, and then, with Milen's knee bent the way they want, they hold it there. Then as I watch they push another big spike right against the man's heel. Milen looks down, just as the big hammer is driven against it, hard, the big spike driving straight through his heel bone and into the side of the cross he is being crucified on.
Milen screams, and his body shudders. Three more blows with the hammer set the nail all the way in, so that the flat head of it is flush with his heel. The guards laugh, and then they reach over and grab the other foot then, and lift it up and point the toes downward, so that it is in the same position as his other foot but on the other side of the vertical post of his cross. When they have that foot too in the awkward position they want it in, they drive another nail through the heel of it as well, affixing his right foot to the right side of the vertical beam of the cross.
And then they step back, and let him struggle and scream. The guards admire their handiwork, and smile as they watch the prisoner struggle. He can't flail his legs anymore, and instead he screams and jerks. He tries to take the pressure off of his wrists, and the rod in his ass, by rising upward, using the muscles in his bent legs to do it. As he does he screams from the new pain in his heels and feet. He supports himself in that way, but his legs are quivering, and in their awkward position he can't straighten them fully.
He can only hold himself upward for a short while, and as he does so the pain from the spikes in his heels shoots up and down his legs. His eyes are wide, and he's gasping, then he screams anew as he falls down again and hangs from his wrists. As he falls down the rod inside his ass slams into his prostate, and for a moment it looks like he will vomit. That motion elicits a new scream, from the shocking, electrical pain that emanates from his wrists. He's in agony, total agony, that seems to have no limit and certainly for him no end.
He jerks upward once again, and then again and again. As he struggles he inadvertently slides his young hard body up and down over the dowel in his ass. His cock gets even harder, and it begins to ooze a line of drool, almost like snot drips from a runny nose, hanging down and swinging in the air in a clear line as he fights and struggles.
The crowd is watching, and they giggle with glee, pointing to the young man's cock and watching him as he fights the cross. They are enjoying his crucifixion, and are happy to see his misery. His hard cock seems to confirm his guilt, and many in the crowd are shocked at his audacity to display it in such a crude and public manner.
There are other guards and they are also working on Arthin, affixing him to his cross and finishing up the preliminaries to his crucifixion. I watch without moving as they set the dowel in place and then nail Arthin's heels in the same manner as his friends. After that, the two men struggle in their individual misery, yet side by side, each jerking up and down as they shift their pain from their feet to the wrists to their feet to their wrists. At the same time their rectums are stuffed with the fat knobs of wood, and as they fall down and the wooden plums slam into their prostates their eyes open wide and their entire bodies spasm. It less than a few minutes both men have sprouted huge boners, that jut obscenely. They seem to waive at everyone, the women and the men and the children. As they bob and twitch I can't help but look at them and think of the little girl that they harmed.
Small signs announcing their crime are placed over their heads, and after that there is nothing left to do but to watch and to wait. At first they struggle and thrash like two wild men, the pain making them panic to find some position for relief. Of course, there is no relief, for either of them, and they thrash out and jerk in rapid movements, literally slamming their bottoms up and down on the wooden rods that impale them. The jerk and scream and beg, and yet there is nothing they can do. There wild motions stir laughter from the crowd.
We all just watch, and I've never looked at two more miserable human beings. I am surprised at how little blood there is, and I can see that their crucifixion will not be quick, at least not from bleeding to death as I would have thought. I just watch the motion that they make, as they do not sit still. The screams taper off though; the effort to scream greater than the stamina it takes to make the sound. After about twenty minutes or so their wild and desperate motions slow down somewhat, and it isn't too much longer after that that the younger of the two sags forward, his arms unable to pull him upright. He seems to pause, and for a long minute just stares downward, at the ground and us that are watching him. His cock still bounces, and seems to be ozzing a steady line of precum, a line of goo that catches the light.
I've never seen a harder man and I can tell he's humiliated just by the look of shame across his face. He locks eyes with me, but looks away. Then as I watch he uses his leg muscles and pushes himself upward, his chest heaving then. He holds himself in that position, wincing from the pain for several long seconds, and then, his thigh muscles give out and he falls down defeated and gasps as his wrists take the strain at the nails. His right arm seems to have stretched at the shoulder, and a few minutes later it happens to the left one as well. He bangs his head back and slams in into the cross, the feeling of it too much for him. His shoulders have become dislocated, and that has intensified his agony.
I can see he's already having trouble breathing, and yet he struggles, lifting himself up every few minutes. Apparently, he has to rise up to exhale and to breathe, and so he has to suffer the pain of it every time he does so. Each time he pushes up on his nailed feet it causes searing bolts of agony to travel up his legs. I move to the side, and I notice that when he pulls himself upward, to take his breath, he raises nearly off the wooden cock like post in his ass. But not quite. The big fat end stays inside, and he can't quite rise high enough to pop it out. Frustrated, and unable to hold himself up any longer, he eventually sags down again, forcing himself down on the crude peg that is fucking his virgin hole. I smile. A few minutes later he repeats this excruciating cycle, literally fucking himself in the process, and as I watch I can see that each motion he is making is stimulating his prostate and making his cock grow even thicker as I watch.
I have never seen an erection like I am seeing now. Both of their cocks are just so thick, and every vein is protruding and they are engorged completely with blood. The men's cocks are simply huge, and obscene looking, and as they jut into the air and pulsate, they seem almost alive. They are both oozing precum, and the crowd mocks them and laughs at the two men and their bouncing dicks, jutting up for everyone to see. Their jutting cocks seems to emphasize the guilt of their crime.
After another half-hour of going up and down on his cross, Milen looks at me...and his eyes go wide and then he gasps. As he does so, the twenty year old ejaculates, the motion of the rod in his ass just too much for him to stop. His face goes bright red as he sees me staring at him. He slams his head back, and then he is squirting out ropes of cum, pumping it out from his big nutsac while everyone watches. Although he's young, he's quite a man, with quite a load. He looks away from me, and his eyes lock with a young girl who is looking back at him, taking his stare, and his face flushes even redder with the embarrassment of what he is doing in front of her.
Nearby, a group of school girls laughs hysterically, seeing the man shooting his wad in front of them without anything touching his cock. He hears them too, and his face is so red with shame it looks to be painted. Even so he continues to empty his nuts, unable to stop himself, grunting out his load of jism even as he is being crucified. Interestingly, as he squirts he needs to breathe, and so he rises upward again, for another breath, the pain from the nails through his heels shooting through his legs as he does.
He screams "Oh..ahhh...ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH" as he takes his breath, and then, he grunts and falls back down, hard, stopped only by the nails in his wrists and the wooden pole in his ass. As he fucks his ass with the rod yet again his squirting cock pumps out even more.


Suddenly, Arthin, the older man, jerks up and down and up and down, fast, as if he's trying to shake himself from the cross. He's watched all of this, and now he's in a total panic, screaming like a madman, jerking and slamming his head again and again and again into his post. God he does not want to lose his balls! His wild gyrations and jerking on the cross causes the rod to move in his ass like a piston, and the rapid up and down motion has an immediate, and unintended consequence for him.
He feels the feeling, but its too late to stop when he does, and after that he arches his back and screams, and then his big cock too just starts to pulsate and suddenly he is squirting out his own thick ropes of cream. He struggles as he shoots, and rises up, high, almost as if he's desperate to get that pole out of his ass. He can't quite pull himself up that far, the nails in his heels keeping him down. I can see he is straining with his arms to do it though, pulling his weight upward in spite of the pain of doing so.




When I reach them though they are still alive. Almost everyone has left, and there is almost no one watching them now. A few guards, who are bored, and appear to be just waiting too for this all to end. As I approach the two men, hanging there, I am surprised to see them both breathing still. The older of the two looks like a living dead man, hanging from his cross. Milen looks stronger, but he too is just hanging quietly, rising up to take a few breathes every few minutes or so. It's obvious that the pain has intensified if anything, and there has been no relief for either of them. They have suffered all night while I have fucked a girl and gone to the bars. I notice that the big man's shoulders have become dislocated too, sometime in the night, and his arms have stretched out and he hangs forward and out from his cross. He doesn’t seem to have the strength to even lift his head. His sac of balls is still around his neck, but it is black now and there are a few morning flies even laying their eggs on it. Still, he makes a movement, rising up, his lungs heaving in a few breaths, before he falls back yet again and hangs with a grunt. His hands are clinched inward, almost in a fist, drawn in and useless. There is drool coming out of his mouth, and there is dried blood on his nose.
I stare at him. He barely breathes, and he drools from his mouth. I look away, and stare at the sun that is low in the horizon, feeling the chill of the morning. Off in the distance I here the birds chirping. I look back at him. I wait, wait for him to force himself up once again and to suck in another breath. But he doesn’t move, and instead just hangs, staring downward, his eyes open like two orbs of glass. Still he makes no movement, and I find myself staring at his severed nuts that he wears like jewelry. I wonder how many women they have filled with cream. I wonder.
His cock hangs like a dead worm, and it looks small and unimportant. I look at it and try and imagine it as it was last night, when it was jutting and proud. As I stare at it I find it hard to comprehend him using it to fuck the girl, or any girl. It's just such a little, useless cock now. I look at his face, and at his thick, scraggly beard, and I find myself wondering what he would look like with a shave. I wait. I start to say something, but I don't really know what to say to him. He doesn’t look at me. Instead, his eyes stare into space. He doesn’t even try to lift himself, and his face is grimaced from the pain.
I stare back at his cock, and then, in a surprise, it starts pissing, emptying his bladder into a puddle below his cross. I step back. He makes no movement, and no sound, and his eyes stare at the ground and do not blink. Still he pisses until his bladder is empty. A long time passes, and I wait for him to move or to struggle, to make the effort to exhale once again. But nothing happens. Nothing, and it is then, THEN, that I realize that he is gone.

Necklacing in Africa

About to be lynch by necklacing-Africa

Residents cut off child rapist's penis

February 12, 2004


Angry residents of a South African township cut off the penis of a man caught raping a five-year-old girl, police said.

The 26-year-old man was in a critical condition in hospital after the assault, which happened on Sunday at Mandela Park in the East Rand township near Johannesburg, Sergeant Zithini Dlamini told Reuters.

The traumatised girl was being treated for her injuries, which were not life-threatening, she said.

No arrests had yet been made. Members of the child's community would not reveal who assaulted the man when several caught him in the act of raping the child after luring her to a shack, she said.

"Nobody is talking. While we condone the community for catching the man, we would encourage people to come to us rather than taking justice into their own hands," she said.

South Africa has one of the highest rates of reported rape in the world.

Marine's castration and torture by Vietong

In the book "Marine Sniper" by Charles Henderson, He devotes a whole chapter to the Apache Woman, The real life sadistic female VC. The following is an actual torture/castration she performed on a young captured soldier. The autor added some dialog for interest as if it needed any more. I think any castration is interesting enough. Just imagine being tied up naked and having an attractive Asian woman approach you with a huge knife, knowing she is going to cut your balls and dick off!!!! Read and enjoy.....

As one of the few U.S. snipers, Carlos faced competition from Viet Cong snipers, who were masters at their art. One of the most feared in his area was a woman, code named "Apache", a fuckin' psycho who, like may female snipers, took special relish in Teaching a Lesson to her foes. Apache enjoyed torturing prisoners within earshot of U.S. bases. -- Across the quarter-mile of rice fields that separated the tree line from the hill, the tormented Marine who had been taken prisoner that afternoon hung naked on a rack made of bamboo. He wore only his boots and the green wool socks that had his name stamped in black ink across the tops. Blood streamed down his cheeks, mixed with tears. The boy, just out of his teens, tried to blink, but the effort only obscured his vision with blood that flooded from where his eyelids had been cut away. He cried and prayed aloud, reacting to the pain each time he strained to blink. The Viet Cong woman had pried off each of his fingernails and was now in the process of bending his fingers backward, snapping them at their middle joints. She had finished with the left and right little fingers and was working her way toward the index fingers, one at a time. Breaking a finger every twenty minutes, she followed a well-planned timetable of torture that covered her prisoner's entire body and would carry the session through the night. At a few minutes before midnight, she had eight fingers to go. The woman and four men from her platoon sat at the Marine's feet, speaking softly in Vietnamese and laughing. The remainder of her platoon lay quietly surrounding her in a maze of sniper hides, ready to ambush anyone who might try to come to rescue the prisoner. The woman chewed betel nut, spitting the juice between her feet as she squatted with her arms resting across the tops of her knees. She looked at the youthful Marine. "You cherry boy? I think maybe no. You get plenty pussy back stateside, yeah. You get Vietnamese pussy too? I think you do. You go China Beach swimming, fuck plenty. "You like get cherry pussy? Plenty American GI like cherry pussy. Rape many young girl-take cherry pussy. True! I know true." She shouted in Vietnamese at the men squatted by her, and they glared at the Marine. The woman walked to where the boy hung limp on the bamboo rack and spit a mouthful of betel nut into his eyes. "You goddamn-fucking GI!" she said... As the fog thickened just before dawn, the Viet Cong woman torturer completed her work on her prisoner. "Goddamn-fucking GI. You no fuck no more," she said, as she approached him with a long, curved knife in her hand. Taking his genitals in her left hand, she jammed the blade's point beneath the base of his penis, grazing his pubic bone. She pulled the knife with a sweeping, circular cut that released both testicles and his penis in one large handful of flesh that gushed with blood. Blood surged from the gaping cavity left between his legs. She knew that this man could not last long, and, quickly cutting away the cords that bound him to the bamboo rack, she said, shaking with laughter, "Run, GI. Maybe you live-you find doctor in time! Run to wire. We watch Marines shoot you fucking ass." The Marine ran, shouting unintelligibly, as blood gushed so rapidly from his body that it left jellylike pools on the compost of decaying leaves that covered the forest floor. And when he emerged from the trees on the far side of a rice field that lay below the observation post where Land and Wilson watched, he began waving his arms, screaming incoherently and sobbing.