After a short distance Tyra staggered and fell to her knees. She knelt here momentarily trying to balance the heavy burden across her shoulders, but couldn’t. She fell forward onto her face. Two soldiers had to put her back on her feet and the on-lookers laughed. The procession moved on. When she fell a second time, the centurion became worried that she was so weakened by the severe flogging that she could not carry the patibulum from the Praetorium to the site of the crucifixion and still have enough life left her for a good show on the cross.
So one of the on-lookers was summoned to carry her cross for her, and the processional then made its way to the execution ground. The crowd swelled as the procession wound its way through the streets and more and more people realized that the Romans were going to crucify a woman.
The upright portion of the cross, the stipes, was left in the ground at Golgotha, the site of all the city’s crucifixions.
Near its base Tyra’s clothes were roughly pulled from her body, once again opening the scourge wounds. This big-chested brunette would be crucified nude.
She was offered a drink of wine mixed with myrrh but, unlike the men, not allowed to drink. The centurion wanted her to experience the full agony of the cross.
The two thieves were crucified first. Tyra watched in terror as each one was tied to the patibulum and hoisted into the air.
Once raised up, the soldiers tied their feet to the sides of the stipes. Even though they were muscular and tough looking, she could see how they acted and she dreaded her turn.
The centurion grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her to the ground. Two of the soldiers took her arms and positioned her wrists over the patibulum. Tyra’s crime was sedition and for that she would be nailed to the cross.
Tyra resisted wildly when she realized she would be hung on the cross with nails. She had seen prisoners die both ways and she knew the nails multiplied the agony many times over. The crowd pushed closer for a better view. Everyone wanted to see her reaction as the first nail was driven into place. Tyra was laying on the ground with her head about a foot below the center of the patibulum. One soldier pinned her feet to the ground while two others each placed a knee in the crook of her elbow and pulled her fingers back over the top of the crossbeam.
Her huge breasts sagged toward the sides of her chest and wobbled as she struggled with the soldiers. Each breast overhung her ribs by five or six inches. The crowd was close and Tyra looked up into the excited leers on the men’s faces as they waited for the real torture to begin.
With arms outstretched but not taut, the wrists were nailed to the patibulum. The centurion placed the nail, swung the hammer and drove it through her right wrist and into the wood.
Tyra’s mouth opened and her eyes bulged. She screamed and babbled incoherently. She arched her back and rose up onto the top of her head. The centurion quickly finished with her right wrist and moved over to the left to repeat the process. She writhed in agony as the soldiers held her down and the centurion crucified her. The iron spikes were driven between the radius and the carpels and although a nail could pass between the bony elements and produce no fractures, Tyra was not so lucky.
Furthermore, the nails crushed the median nerves and produced excruciating bolts of fiery pain in both arms. Ischemic contractures and impalement of various ligaments by the iron spikes produced claw-like grasps. After both wrists were securely fastened, the soldiers lifted the patibulum and dragged Tyra over to her stipes. Once this sweat-trenched, panting woman was on her feet and leaning against the stipes with two soldiers supporting the weight of the patibulum, the centurion turned and addressed the crowd.
“All hail Tyra, your queen!” he shouted. “She is guilty of fanning the flames of rebellion and now she will be punished for her seditious behavior! Let her suffering be a warning to all that Rome will not tolerate rebels!”
He turned back around and gave the signal. Tyra was jerked up off the ground. As they raised her up the high stipes and her feet left the ground, her full 107 pounds pulled at the wounds in her broken wrists and Tyra twisted from side to side in an erotic dance of agony; the jerky movements causing her huge bare breasts to sway seductively.
As she was dragged up the rough wood, the whip marks on her back snagged and ripped open further. This fucked her to arch her back and to push with her feet and head in the vain attempt to keep her back from the wood.
Once she reached the full height of the cross, Tyra’s lean, 5′-4″ frame dangled from the nails in her wrists as the patibulum was slipped onto the stipes and the two pieces secured with rope.
Only then were her feet nailed to the stipes by means of an iron spike driven through the top of each foot. Every hammer blow caused Tyra’s whole body to shudder and her head to jerk up and down. The bloodthirsty crowd watched excitedly as this brunette with big melons was nailed to the cross. The nails in her feet severed the plantar arteries and pressed against the plantar nerves. This caused horrific pain to shoot up both legs and into her belly.
The expression on Tyra’s face told everyone that she was fully conscious and felt everything. The sweat poured out of her like rain. Every time she tried to straighten her legs, the nails caused her feet to arch and her toes to pull back. The centurion had expertly driven the nails in just far enough to keep her from straightening her legs all the way so that she couldn’t support her weight on her leg bones.
Instead, she was fucked to use muscle strength to hold herself up. With Tyra and the two thieves fully crucified, the tituli were nailed to the crosses above their heads.
Tyra panicked at the thought of actually being crucified. This was more than she had bargained for. She wanted the Romans out but she never thought she’d end up on the cross! The pain was unbelievable; worse than anything she could have imagined.
In her eighteen years she had watched many others die this way and had even helped to torment some of them as they suffered. Now she knew what a horrible death it was. Tyra struggled wildly in the foolish hope that she could somehow find a position that would ease the pain, but there was none. The agony seemed to build with every second and she wondered how she would ever be able to endure the hours of suffering before she finally died.
Tyra’s struggle only served to excite the crowd. The more she moved, the more she moaned, the more her tits jiggled, the wilder the crowd became. They came to watch a heavy-chested woman suffer and they were not disappointed.
Tyra soon learned that the major effect of crucifixion, beyond the excruciating pain, was a marked interference with normal respiration, particularly exhalation. The weight of her voluptuous body, pulling down on the outstretched arms and shoulders, fixed the intercostal muscles in an inhalation state and thereby hindered exhalation.
Accordingly, exhalation was primarily diaphragmatic, and breathing was shallow. The onset of muscle cramps, due to fatigue and hypercarbia, hindered respiration even further. She suffered excruciating pain from the muscle cramps and the terror of near suffocation every time she stayed in the hanging position too long.
But every breath was a dilemma. Adequate exhalation required Tyra to lift her body by pushing down on the feet and flexing her outstretched and uplifted arms.
This caused almost unbearable pain in her feet, legs and belly as the nails ground against the plantar nerves. As a result, each breath was agonizing and tiring and would lead eventually to asphyxia.
As she slid up and down against the rough wood, the lacerations on her back snagged and ripped open again and again. In addition, her squirming on the cross caused copious amounts of bleed to pump from her foot wounds as the holes in the bottoms of her dirty bare feet stretched and changed shape whenever she pushed and pulled against the nails.
This cycle was repeated thousands of times during the day.
The crowd taunted Tyra mercilessly. Even though three were crucified, most of the taunting was directed at Tyra on the center cross. Her firm 38D breasts topped by large, hard, oval nipples being the obvious object of their torment. Even the two men hanging on either side of her couldn’t resist the urge to join in. The thief on the left cross was especially persistent in describing what he would like to do to her.
She listened to the ugly shouts and lies that the mob threw at her. Some of the comments were so infuriating that Tyra shouted back at them. But since speech occurs during exhalation, these short, terse utterances were particularly difficult and painful. Mostly she just moaned. The taunting and mockery was so frustrating that she couldn’t contain herself. She shook her head violently and cursed her tormentors the best she could but this only encouraged them more.
The stream of insults from the people was non-stop. Several times she even forgot herself and banged her head back against the stipes, driving the thorns of her crown deep into her scalp.
The soldiers knelt at the base of her cross and rolled dice for each piece of her clothing. As they divided up her clothes, one or the other of the soldiers would periodically call out to her. When she’d look down at them, he’d hold up this or that piece of clothing and tell the nude bitch nailed to the cross above his head what a good gift it would make to one of the other local whores.
Tyra needed water. She hadn’t had a drink since she was arrested and the hot sun and long hours of brutal torture had dehydrated her to the point that her lips were dry and cracked, her tongue swollen and her throat felt as though it had been packed with sand. The soldiers ignored her at first, but she was persistent. Eventually, the centurion, not wanting the prisoners to die too fast, ordered one of the soldiers to give them all water.
Tyra watched as he soaked a sponge and stuck it onto the end of his spear. He went to the thief on the right cross first and held the sopping sponge up to his face. The man sucked the water from the sponge greedily. Tyra watched as some of the water dribbled down his chin and dripped onto his chest. Then the soldier stepped back and re-soaked the sponge. Tyra groaned in frustration as he walked past her to the criminal on the left cross and let him drink.
When it was dry he lowered it again and stepped in front of Tyra. She squirmed in anticipation as he stood there looking up at her.
“Water!” she panted, “Need water!”
He said, “If I do, what will you do for me?”
He let his eyes slide down to her chest and said, “You’ve got great tits, Tyra, and I love those big nipples. Maybe you’ll let me play with your jugs for awhile.
He stepped closer and prodded her breasts with the sponge-capped spear. He used it to swing them back and forth. Tyra gritted her teeth and turned her head to the side as the soldier prodded and lifted first one breast and then the other. The sponge had come off by this time and the point of the spear dug into her heavy, firm tits as he lifted them up and away from her ribs.
The shouts and whistles from the crowd showed their approval as the soldier m*****ed her. Eventually, he tired of his game and put the sponge back on the spear, soaked it and rubbed it into her face saying, “Here’s your water, bitch, you earned it. “
Tyra realized that her tormentor on the left cross hadn’t taunted her for awhile and she looked over at him. He was hanging by his arms and struggling for breath.
His arms had been d****d back over the patibulum and tied in an awkward angle at the elbows. The way his feet were tied to either side of the stipes made it difficult for him to use them to push up and ease the strain in the arms. Even so, he was moving rhythmically by arching his back and pushing the best he could with his legs. After a few moments in the raised position, he’d drop back to the hanging position and then repeat the process.
Tyra watched his strong-looking chest heave whenever he reached the raised position. When she dropped her eyes she saw the biggest, fattest erection of her life. She had seen other men get involuntary erections while crucified and some had even ejaculated. This one looked like he was about to do the same. He looked over at her as his body went rigid. Then his eyes squeezed shut and he moaned several times until a long, thick stream of white semen squirted out of his engorged penis.
The crowd roared as his hips bucked wildly and he sprayed three lesser streams onto the ground.
Tyra’s shoulders ached more than she had ever known. She felt as though she were being slowly pulled apart. In fact, that was exactly what was happening to her. The hours of her weight pulling at the muscles and ligaments holding the shoulder joints together taxed them to their limits. Shortly after she had lowered herself into the hanging position for what seemed to her like the millionth time, she felt the joint give way and the right arm pop out of its socket.
Tyra screamed at the horrible pain as her body tilted and her shoulder assumed an odd angle. She thrashed wildly as she tried to raise herself back up onto her feet. She groaned and cried out the whole time she struggled and her breasts swung from side to side to the delight of the crowd. She pushed with her feet and pulled with her left arm in an effort to take the strain off the dislocated right shoulder.
Once she regained her footing, her body shook from the effort of holding herself up. The nails still caused excruciating pain, but for the moment it was over-shadowed by the blinding fire burning in her shoulder. As she stood there, she felt the left arm pull away and she fell back into the hanging position. The f***e of the drop stretched her jugs when her body abruptly stopped at the bottom of its fall but her big fat breasts continued on for another half second or so.
When they had stretched as far as they could, they bumped together, bounced back up and wobbled back and forth.
Tyra fainted as the pain exploded in her head. When she awoke, she marshaled all her will- power and pushed against the nails in her feet. The nerves screamed their message up her legs as the full weight of her body pressed against the shafts of the two nails. She leaned forward from the waist d***kenly as her legs straightened, twisting her shoulders and putting new pressure on them.
Even so, she was unable to straighten herself any further. She lifted her head and looked at the crowd. She begged for someone to kill her, but her pleas were only met with curses. The excitement coursing through the mob built to its highest level yet. Everyone knew this tortured cunt couldn’t hold out much longer.
The best parts of a crucifixion are at the beginning and the end. In the beginning the prisoner thrashes frantically from the pain and the realization that he or she has been put on a cross to die.
Tyra was more fun than most to watch during the initial stages of her execution. She was beautiful and strong and had obviously been terrified and in agony. At the end it was good because the instinct to live is strong and f***es the prisoner to fight the inevitable, even though the suffering is unbearable. The mob hoped that Tyra’s death on the cross would be as erotic as the beginning.
Her back twisted and arched constantly as she tried to find a position that would make the pain bearable.
There was none. Tyra moaned non- stop at the top of her lungs and her breasts swung around in a circular motion as she squirmed. She lowered herself into the hanging position, rotated her hips forward and spread her knees as she hung by the nails in her wrists; fully exposing herself to all. The mob eyed the snatch sitting at the apex of two shapely legs and surrounded by a thick crop of curly black hair.
They watched the two huge breasts wobble as she gasped for breath. They watched her hips pump in a frenzy of ineffective activity as she tried to resist the inevitable.
Shortly after four in the afternoon, after six agonizing hours on the cross, Tyra cried out in a loud voice. Her head lolled from side to side and then fell against her chest. Suddenly, her head jerked up, her chest heaved and she shook violently.
Then her head fell back against her chest and she began to quiver. The onlookers recognized her moment of death and watched spell-bound as she quivered in her death throes. Soon she stopped moving and just hung there, her eyes and mouth open.
Since the local religious leaders did not want the bodies to remain on the crosses after sunset, the beginning of the Sabbath, they asked the governor to order crucifracture to hasten the deaths of the three crucified criminals.
The soldiers broke the legs of the two thieves, but when they got to Tyra, she looked dead already. Just to make sure, though, one of them rammed his spear up through Tyra’s left breast and buried it in her chest.
Once the two thieves were dead, all three bodies were taken down from the crosses. The men were easy to remove. First the ropes holding their feet were cut; then the ones holding their arms to the patibuli.
The bodies fell to the ground and were thrown into a cart. Because Tyra had been nailed to the cross, it was harder to get her down. The soldiers used a special tool to pry the nails from her feet. After freeing the feet, one of the soldiers examined the holes left by the nails. He was always amazed at how big the holes got as the crucifixion wore on. He held a foot up and could look through the hole and could almost get two fingers into it.
Once the feet were free, another soldier propped a ladder against the back of the cross and climbed up to free the arms. He used the tool to pull the nail from the left wrist. Tyra’s body had not yet begun to stiffen and it flopped down and hung by the remaining nail. When that one was pulled, the body crumpled to the ground in a heap and was thrown into the cart with the two men.
The bodies were taken to a lime pit and thrown in.
The public had witnessed Tyra, the eighteen year old queen of the Jews, tortured to death on the cross.