Posts Tagged ‘The message



The message  –  6


I gave in to the temptation, eagerly I had delayed my departure.  I wanted him tormented by the facts.  I kept my eye on his growing feebleness.  His body bending reluctant to my will.  Refusing to raise my eyes to his face.  Ignoring his rantings.  Cursing me.  Condemning my family.  Warning me that others would still rise up.  I kept my eye right there where his feebleness was strongest.  On his thickening cock.  Rising to obey my will.  Deserting him.  As his blood boiled, as his temper soared  ….  He could do nothing against it.  Nature and his rightful lord were working in cahoots, against him, working together to take possession of him.  Right down to his core.  Right to the very man that he was.

Assaulted at the heart of a man



The message  –  5


I could afford to grant him this time, let the prick take as long as he wanted, this brief moment when he still could persuade himself he was not beaten.  Not crushed.  I could allow him this last gesture of defiance,  –  when the fool was going to tell himself he could still stand up to me.  Because, unlike the moron nailed on his cross, I had not forgotten.  In his overpowering urges to show to me  –  for the last time  –  that he was not beaten, he had forgotten one thing.  One vital fact.

Life is full of surprises



The message  –  4

His head rolled from side-to-side, rocked by his pains.  His moans escaped unstoppable, I smiled as he suffered.  Arms outstretched, pinned by nailed agony to the cross.  Lying at my horse’s feet.  I watched.  Relishing in his torment.  Yet wanting more.  This scum owed me more.

No satiating the lust for retribution



The message  –  3

Did he not know?  The fool.  Had he forgotten?  Lying there like he thought he’d come through his ordeal?  Did the scumbag not realise he had two wrists? 
Patiently I had watched his every move.  Intently I had registered his every slightest change.  By the time five blows had hammered into his arm, his look of defiance had swept away from my face.  Hammer-blows smashing up his bones.  Driven from proud patrician into frail slave meat.  The thick ugly nail crunching up bone, driving through flesh, pounding into the wood.  The defiance wiped off his insolent face.  Degraded from human being into stinking slobbering slave.  His cries of pain unstoppable.  A dozen blows.  Breaking up bone.  Breaking through his arrogant insolence.

The ultimate satisfaction over a troublesome enemy



The message  –  2

Down in the dirt, forced onto his back, arms out-stretched out.  Victim of the cross.  Awaiting the nails.  Making a show, putting up no fight.  Offering no resistance as my troops held down his arms. 
Dignity, the patrician,  –  what a prick.  My soldiers were only-too ready to nail his hated rich-boy’s hide to the cross.  He looked up, eyes full of hate.  Targeted at me.  I kicked my steed forwards, giving him more chance.  More chance to make a futile fool of himself,  Making it easier to fix me with his hate.  His glare of anger.  To stab me with that undying hate of his look.  The fool.  What a stupid prick!  Not long before I had that look wiped off his face.

Noble-born, how will he bear the cross?



The message

I nudged my horse forward.  Looking straight down into his face.  He knew he was done-for, that his luck had run out.  But still he stared up at me.  Planned to be defiant to the last.  But I knew better.  And I was the one who could afford to be patient.  It would only be a short matter of time before I had that bravado wiped off his face.
After a long patient war of looks, I pronounced his fate.
“Do it.”

Glorious in triumph

in praise of men we’d like to be





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