Monday, September 20, 2010

Impaled


Nala was a beautiful woman. This was unusual in the area of her village; because of poverty, disease, poor nutrition and the ravages of battles with the neighboring marauders, most people were not that lucky. But Nala had smooth skin, breasts that stood high and pointed out, an oval face that smiled with no blemishes but the few freckles she bore. Her slim body shape had a healthy and energetic look and her long brown hair was smooth and shiny.

In other words, she didn’t fit in. All the men wanted her, and all the women hated her. Most people were suspicious of her good looks. She should have had the gaunt, starved look of despair so common throughout the region.

It came as little surprise when she was caught sneaking out of the village one night, and followed to a deserted hut in a canyon nearby. There she was seen to rendevouz with a soldier, a leader of the enemy that had inflicted such damage to the region. When the men of the village burst into the hut, Nala was naked and had her legs around the the soldier’s hips as he frantically shoved himself inside of her. He was roughly pulled off, just as his cock began spurting and his white semen spread over her stomach and legs. In fact, it was still spurting as his head was separated from his body and rolled on the floor, blinking in a bewildered way.

The men lifted Nala’s shaking and naked form from the floor as they observed the scene. The soldier had brought her food, some clothing and a little item of jewelry in payment for her attentions. It wasn’t clear whether she had feelings for him, and it didn’t matter. She was a traitor, and there was a special way they dealt with traitors in this village.

Nala was taken back to the village, naked as they had found her. She was chained to a post near the well in the central square and a guard was posted. The next morning, news of what had happened flooded the village and dozens of people came to look at the naked form of the beautiful woman huddled next to the well. Some of the women threw rocks at her, but this practice was stopped almost immediately. The men wanted her body in good shape for what they had in mind.

In fact, it was the men that came to gape at the nude woman. She did her best to cover herself with her hands and arms, but the shape of her breasts was seen clearly, and the sight of her ass and an ocassional glimpse of her pussy were worth waiting for. The teenage boys spent a good part of the day looking at her quivering flesh, getting a good view of the naturally beautiful body.

Late in the day, several men came to Nala and lifted her up, unchaining her. Many in the village came to see what was going on as the men leaned her over the edge of the well and tied her wrists behind her back securely. She resisted only slightly, as the strength of the men was far beyond her capability to fight.

With one man on each side of her, Nala was led from the central town square and out of the village on the main road. Many villagers, men, women and youngsters, came to see the naked woman led down the dirt road as she was forced to march. When they reached the edge of town it finally dawned on the woman what fate was in store for her. She began to struggle and resists, but the men simply began dragging her into the barren spot just out of town in which no plants grew.

In the middle of this area was a heavy post, about four feet high. The old wood was embedded deep in the ground and stood straight up, ending in a smoothed, rounded top. Years of blood spilled and soaked into the wood had turned it black, and the ground around it was oily and hard.

Nala saw the post and began struggling hysterically. She attempted to tear away from the men that held her arms, twisting and writhing viciously in a last attempt to save herself. It availed nothing, and moments later she stood before the post, observing it closely for the first time.

It was about 3 inched thick. While very straight, there were a few knobs or depressions on its surface. These were smoothed from years of wear, and there were no splinters or rough spots.

The end was not pointed. Instead it was smoothed and rounded; this was both intentional and a byproduct of the posts use over the years. It had worn down this way, but it was also desirable to those that used it as an execution device. The rounded end meant it would not immediately pierce through the victim. Rather, it would slowly push its way deeper and deeper, prolonging the death and the agony.

Nala stood sobbing before the instrument of her torture. The villagers had all come out to watch her impalement, and surrounded the post at a respectful distance. Already standing stripped and unprotected before the impaling pole, there was little standing in the way of Nala’s execution.

Two men stepped forward and wrapped their arms around Nala’s legs, getting a firm grasp. She wriggled, trying to get free, and sobbed loudly, calling to the villagers around her for mercy. Instead, her legs were spread slightly by the men and a third man wrapped arms around her waist from behind, also obtaining a firm grip on her from which she could not escape. With a coordinated effort, the three men lifted Nala off the ground and raised her above the post, positioning her legs on either side, ready for impalement.

A fourth man stepped forward, and guided the condemned woman’s body just over the post. Using all the fingers of both hands, he reached to spread Nala’s pussy wide. She screamed as she felt his fingers dig deeply into her, spreading the opening to her vagina wide, stretching the flesh.

The tip of the post was placed just at the entrance to her spread vagina. With a slow, practiced motion, her body was lowered so that the post forced its way into her deeper and deeper. Each inch of post distended more flesh, causing more screams of agony from Nala as she felt the post invade her more and more deeply.

Then with an unexpected suddenness, the men let go of Nala’s body. No longer supported, her body plunged down upon the post, which sank deep inside her. Her legs kicked and body writhed as she screamed in pain, face lifted into the afternoon sun. The writhing moved her body on the stake, which inched its way deeper into her body, pressing and compressing her womb, and finally tearing through into her bowels. The more she writhed, the more the stake dug into her and the more firmly she was affixed on the stake.

Blood streamed down from between her legs, making the stake slipperier. Nala’s strong legs slowed their wild kicking and instead attempted to wrap themselves around the post, her feet moving to lift her body higher. The blood made this impossible for while her feet grasped and slipped on the stake they were unable to make any difference in lifting the poor girls weight and relieving the penetration which was slowly making its way through her bowels.

The villagers gathered around to watch the girl’s death throws as she writhed on the stake, thus slowly impaling herself. Her hands were still tied behind her back, but otherwise she was free to move in whatever limited way she could, and she cried out for mercy to the people that watched her struggles. No mercy was given; her writhing body was a source of vouyeuristic pleasure to many of the villagers, especially the men. Seeing Nala’s perfect body stuck on the pole, raised above the crowd as she struggled and writhed, was a delight to a number of the younger men who surrounded her closely to observe every aspect of her pain. Her breasts bounced, legs quivered from strain, and stomach expanded and contracted rapidly as she panted in agony.

Her movement slowed even further. Nala’s sweaty skin glistened in the setting sun. Her legs found a position on the stake which did not raise her up, but kept her from moving so much so that the wood inside her would not burrow deeper into her body. All knew that this was foolish on her part. A brave and practical soul who accepted their fate would writhe and wriggle to drive the stake as deeply as possible so as to bring on death.

Perhaps Nala still believed she might survive the impalement. Perhaps she simply reacted instictively to hold on to life to the bitter end. Whatever the reason, she had stopped the burrowing stake from penetrating her diaphram and tearing her heart or lungs. If she continued, she would die of sepsis, dehydration and exposure over the next several days instead of in just a few minutes.

The sun set and Nala sat on her stake of torture; some young men of the village remained to watch and observe. Her knees were spread wide, feet pressed against the wood pole. Her head hung down, hair covering her shoulders and breasts, though her nipples and shapely underside of her breasts could still be seen. She breathed in pain-filled gasps, because drawing a breath required use of her diaphram which in turn pressed against the stake which was trying to dig through to her chest cavity.

Darkness fell, and all but a handful of young men had departed. The remaining men drank and observed Nala closely as she suffered. Some of them masturbated to the sight. Others actually approached the agonized woman and touched her, exploring where the wide pole entered her body, and feeling her stomach where the ruined intestines and wood stake could be felt.

Still Nala sat on the pole, and finally all the villagers were gone. Nala was left to suffer, sitting on the impalement, in the dark.

Early the next morning, the villagers were awakened by a muffled scream that ended in a gurgle. Several of them went to the clearing to see. Nala was almost motionless on the stake, her chest and breasts bloodied. Her legs hung limp below her. There was some tiny movement of breathing, but very few other signs of life. Raising her head and pushing straggled hair back, it was observed that the stake had worked its way through her chest and was bulging out of her shoulder. It must have taken all night and had somehow failed to do significant damage to the vital organs, for while she was very weak, she was still breathing with a strained gurgle.

Several of the villagers stood watch during the day, and it was reported that breathing stopped at about noon. Her body was left on the stake and rotted there over the next several weeks as a warning to those that would betray the village.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Vivid.
Horrifying yet interesting.
History has many a gruesome act in it.
A very good portrayal.

Regards
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