Olivia was 20 years old; old enough to know better than to consort and assist the highwaymen. But she had a man. Her man was in the gang of robbers. She was with him as if he were her husband. She used her young sensual body and pretty face to get men to stop along the roads. Her man's gang did the rest, robbing and sometimes beating the traveler.
Now she was caught. The traditional, approved punishment for highwaymen? Breaking on the wheel. An agonizing, slow, public death. It was unusual for a woman to be put to death in this way, but she was considered one of the robbers, and the garrison commander had given the orders.
Last night the commander had visited her in her cell. She thought at first that he had come to tell her he had changed his mind. But instead, he simply pushed her down onto the dirt floor of the cell and tore her clothing. She struggled, but he was too strong. He forced her legs apart, positioning his body between them and then plunged his hardened member deep inside her. Once he was inside her, she went limp, accepting her fate.
The commander held her hands above her head, grunted and enjoyed her body with increasingly frantic thrusts. With a final cry, he spurt his seed inside her, then withdrew. Olivia rolled over, crying softly, believing that this ordeal, at least was over.
She was wrong. During the night several more of the garrison soldiers came to her cell, each one eager to taste the soft flesh of a young girl condemned to die the next day. Some were brutal when she struggled, slamming her against the wall. Two soldiers would hold her arms and legs wide, allowing easy access as another fucked her hard. When one was done, they would change positions, allowing another the chance to satisfy himself.
By the time the sun rose pink in the cold winter sky outside the barred window, Olivia's clothes were torn, useless and discarded. Her beautiful young body was bruised, and semen dried where it had dripped from the hole between her legs down her inner thighs.
"It is time," the heavy prison door opened and the head guard stepped in. Olivia sat staring at him blankly. He grabbed her arm and lifted her up, dragging her out of the cell to the corridor, where several other soldiers stood to escort her. She didn't know where they would take her, though she had some vague idea what would happen.
As she trudged along, one of the guards caressed her naked breast and said to another guard, "It's too bad she is going to the wheel. It has been some time since we have had a prisoner this luscious."
"Did you get to taste her last night?" the other guard asked.
"No! My wife had me trapped at home!" The guards laughed.
"Take her on the wheel, then if you want."
The guard nodded, gazing at Olivia's strong, naked, young body.
"You don't want a cloak. You want to die. As fast as possible. Trust me," said one of the guards.
They were waiting for the commander, just standing by the heavy wheel. Olivia tried to savor these last few moments of life, shaking naked in the cold winter sun.
The guard who had not had been trapped at home decided it was time to take her. Other guards grabbed her and pulled her over the wheel, stretching her body. Olivia twisted and fought, trying to get loose. The guard revealed a huge member standing straight out from his groin, knelt between her spread legs, and shoved some snow into her womanhood to help lubricate. Olivia had never felt as violated as she did at that moment, a toy, being used while waiting for the commander to arrive.
The guard took her, tearing her delicate flesh with his size, pushing and thrusting deep inside her. Her arms and legs were pulled apart, stretched to their limit. It felt like they would pop out of their sockets, and the pain made her cry out as much as the indignity of being gang raped. It didn't take him long to grunt to a climax, which was a good thing for as he stood, the commander arrived.
"Ah, I see you have her stretched and ready. Very good. Altus, would you please begin breaking her?" The commander nodded at the soldier that normally oversaw executions.
Olivia was held above the wheel in the same position as when she had been raped, unable to move. Her arms and legs stretched over the wood beams of the wheel. Altus had a large, heavy looking length of wood in his hands. Other soldiers held her right arm carefully in place over the edge of the wheel. Grasping the heavy club firmly, Altus raised it above his head.
Olivia screamed as the wood club whistled through the air, descending and impacting her right upper arm next to where it crossed the outside of the wheel. The bones in her arm broke, shattering with sickening crack. Her arm bent at an extremely odd angle. The pain ripped through her consciousness, and she screamed again.
The soldiers continued their terrible work. Altus shifted to her left arm, positioning it over the wood spokes of the wheel. Another blow, and Olivia's left arm bend and cracked at a different angle from her right. The pain was overpowering, Olivia continued scr
eaming, unaware of how the soldiers holding her legs were feeling up her thighs, probing the slick moistness of her womanhood.
Even with both arms broken, Olivia looked lovely laying naked on the wheel. Her breasts stood firm, rising like two hills covered in snow. Her nipples were small and hard from the cold. The soft folds of her genitals were moist and glistening from recent sex, and her flat stomach showed muscles as she screamed. She flailed and struggled, trying to get away, but to no avail. She was held down.
Attention was focused on Olivia's legs. More beautiful legs were not to be found. Smooth and soft, shapely yet strong, they struggled against the guard's grip as she writhed.
"Get the left one still. I am going to use the other wheel and roll it over her, breaking more. Come on, get that leg!" Altus was ordering, annoyed. He lifted a second wheel, smaller than the one Olivia was tied to, and held it above the poor naked twisting girl.
Olivia's left leg was held relatively motionless over the spokes and outer wheel, and Altus raised the other wheel and brought it down with a rolling motion. A dulled but audible crunch was heard as it came down on the knee, shattering the bones and separating the shin and femur. The woman's left leg now pointed the wrong way, the shin rising up instead of folding back. The unnatural sight made a couple of the guards turn away. The wheel continued to move, rolling across her lower extremities, smashing bone as it went.
Olivia's screaming dulled somewhat and she lost bladder control. The snow below her turned yellow as Altus repositioned to the right leg. With three of her limbs now shattered, the condemned woman's struggles were subdued, though she still jerked and moved instinctively.
The sickening crunch came again as her right knee was broken.
"Hold it! There, at the ankle!" Altus barked orders. He wasn't done. The wheel kept rolling, breaking the shin bone, further mangling the poor woman's limbs. The upper wheel continued, rolling over and smashing her left leg.
"Almost done." Altus stopped for a rest and surveyed his work. He didn't necessarily enjoy being the executioner, though there was a certain satisfaction in seeing criminals meet their just reward. But this time, it was a remarkably beautiful woman, and the sight of her beautiful body, contrasted with her bloodied and broken limbs... well, it had it's appeal.
Altus positioned himself once again above the woman's right arm, which had slipped down between the spokes of the wheel. "Grab it. Pull it out!"
Unfortunately, Olivia wasn't unconscious for long. Searing agony from her left leg greeted her, jolting her back to consciousness. The guards were pulling, yanking, bending the smashed limb into extremely unnatural angles, pushing it up toward her body, under a spoke of the wheel. They threaded the unnaturally flexible limb under and over two of the spokes.
Olivia had continued to attempt thrashing around, what else could she do? Her limbs were a smashed, pulpy mess, but her body was intact. She still breathed, screamed, could see the sky, and smell the blood and sweat.
Her right leg was also twisted and jammed between the spokes. Thrashing about ceased to be an option. Olivia no longer had the strength, and her lower limbs were secured to the wheel, threaded in place. Movement just pulled the bones and caused them to cut through more flesh. The pain weakened her now to where she offered no resistance as her arms were threaded through spokes.
Panting in agony, Olivia lay on the wheel, firmly woven into the gaps of the wheel. She no longer looked real; she had taken on the appearance of a broken doll. Her face and body were still beautiful, laying motionless on the center of the great wagon wheel.
They lifted the wheel up then; she was raised into the sky. The wheel was placed on a post so that Olivia suffered above those who gather to see her. She lay on the wheel, not able to move, though her moans and pleadings continued throughout the day.
The blood and meat of Olivia's smashed limbs attracted carrion birds who circled above at first. She was actually able to see them gliding above, looking at her. She lay in her world of pain, sometimes crying, sometimes pleading for death. Late in the afternoon, the birds landed on the wheel and began pecking. She lived, but she was slowly turned into food.
Olivia was still alive, laying on the wheel, the next morning. Some of the flesh around her broken bones was pecked clean, and one bird had tried to peck out an eye. Yet, she still lived, laying motionless above the main road on which she had lured travelers just the week before.
Two days passed before the commander ordered the coup de grâce. Altus the executioner took the heavy club and brought it down hard on the chest of the suffering woman, breaking her sternum and ribs which penetrated her heart and lungs. Barely 5 minutes later she was dead.
They left Olivia on the wheel by the road for a month after she died. The warning worked, for a while. The highwaymen left the area, moving away, or finding some other way of making money.