When the soldiers set her cross upright Melita was stunned by the pain. She closed her eyes. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air. Muscles in her belly repeatedly flexed and relaxed. Her hips twisted left and right. She tried to struggle a little bit. She couldn’t move much and her feeble attempts to move just caused her body to wiggle in a way the audience liked to see.

   She had attracted quite a few onlookers. It was a busy cross-road location – the usual spot for female crucifixions. When she opened her eyes and looked around she had a rush of emotions.

   Melita was a slim, petite and rather short girl. She enjoyed being short. Now it was a strange feeling to be a few inches above all the people around her. She could look down to her left and right and see how many had gathered.

   She was equally shocked at how closely they were watching, looking her over with rapt attention.

   She had always been a high-spirited and flirtatious girl – as much as any lively, healthy teen. Once in awhile she'd have a private little fantasy about being naked in public. But now, doing it for real in front of so many people made her feel sick and vulgar and cheap – and maybe a little turned on too.

     Nearly all her weight rested painfully in her shoulders. She realized her ribcage and her breasts were lifted upward and thrust out toward the crowd in a way that was almost obscene. Even worse, she realized that her nipples were fully erect and engorged and sticking outward, probably from pain and fright and all of the powerful mixed emotions of horror and terror, and maybe a touch of excitement too. Every inch of her glorious naked body was stretched out on full display for every single person to see.

    She moved side to side a few times, first one way then another. It was like she wanted to twist or turn away from the gaze of the onlookers and get even a small amount of privacy. But with her wrists nailed to the cross beam over her head there was really nothing she could do. Her attempts to turn away from the crowd only gave a bit of side-to-side wiggle of her breasts and drew more attention to her body.

    In spite of her pain she could see with a quick glance that the crowd had a variety of reactions. Some looked shocked and even horrified to see the bare young woman nailed up on her cross. Some looked at her with deep worry and pity. Others looked on with a smirk and seemed to be quite amused. A few looked her over with obvious lust in their heart and in their loins.

    One matronly woman had been watching Melita looking over the crowd and twisting on her cross. She curled her lip. “Look at her. She’s flirting. She’s showing off,” she said to her companion, a woman about the same age. “Even on the cross this little hussy craves attention,” she continued, shaking her head in disapproval.

    Her friend nodded in agreement.

    Melita looked again at the people gathered around to watch her agony. She recognized a young, handsome apprentice lawyer she had met two weeks earlier. He was staring at her closely – not at her face. That almost felt worse than the constant throbbing in her wrists. She felt ill and mortified that he was seeing her this way, stretched out by the side of the road as a common criminal, totally bare for every passerby to ogle. She tilted her head back and let out a groan of pain and frustration.

    She wanted to take a little bit of the pain away from her shoulders by flexing her leg muscles and trying to lift herself slightly. That worked but it came at the cost of terrible pain in her ankles where they were nailed to the cross.

    One of the soldiers decided he’d have a little fun.

    He walked up to Melita. He was wearing heavy combat gloves. He stroked her body.

    She gasped at the touch. All her pain and terror made her normally sensitive body far more responsive.

    Then he put his gloved hand on her belly. He moved his hand slowly down her body.

    She could sense his intentions. “No! No! No!” she gasped, shaking her head strongly side to side.

    He smiled. He kept moving his hand slowly lower.

    When he reached a very sensitive spot she said, “NO! NO! NO! Oh please!” even louder.

    He moved his gloved hand in a slow, rhythmic circle.

    She tried to tilt her head back but couldn’t do it much because of the cross behind her. She lifted her chin as much as she could. She gasped again and again, taking in big gulps of air, trying to deal with all of her overwhelming feelings.

    The soldier continued to move his hand in a firm, rhythmic way. He could sense the effects he was having.

    After a few minutes of this, to her incredible shock and horror, Melita realized she couldn’t stop herself from rocking her hips rhythmically and pressing herself against his hand, soaking up the amazing stimulation. This was the ultimate pleasure and humiliation.

    The soldier smiled. He kept a smooth, circular motion and he didn't let her get too much pressure.

    For the first time during her ordeal she wanted to burst out in tears at the overwhelming shock and humiliation of showing herself to be so aroused while a crowd of people stood around to watch.

    He was careful not to stimulate her body too much. When he had done enough he smiled and took his hand away.

    “AHH!” she exclaimed. The touch of the soldier had given her a momentary distraction from all of her incredible pain and fear. Now those feelings rushed back to her all over. Once again she could vividly feel the nails in her wrists and ankles, keeping her body stretched out painfully.

    This was just the beginning of a brutally long ordeal for her. Being such a healthy, fit young woman everyone thought she might last a long time on the cross. They were right.

    For the most part she tried to suffer in silence. Tears often rolled down her cheeks. She didn’t want to give the soldiers or anyone in the crowd the satisfaction of hearing her scream or cry out.

    But at times she couldn’t help herself. She let out whimpers or sobs from her pain and despair.

    She drank some water when one of the soldiers offered.

    Melita tried to distract her thoughts from the pain she looked around at the crowd.

    She noticed one pretty young woman nearby in a slave tunic, studying her closely. Melita had worn a slave tunic for months and hated every minute of it. Now it looked wonderful and she longed for a bit of clothing. Seeing it on another woman just made her feel even more sad, helpless, exposed and bare.

    The slave girl was strikingly pretty. Interestingly, she was one of the few women who didn't seem to mind wearing a slave tunic - she seemed to wear it with good style and élan. What struck Melita most were her bright, inquisitive brown eyes -- she seemed highly observant and smart, taking in a lot.

    One of the soldiers seemed to recognize the slave girl. “Eulalia!” he said in a cheerful greeting. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

    She nodded. “The master wanted me to be here to observe. I'm supposed to watch closely and report back to him about everything I saw.”

    “What do you think so far?” the soldier asked.

    “She's cute,” she said with a gesture to Melita.

    “She's a feisty one,” he said, “I think she'll last a long time.”

    “The pain must be huge,” Eulalia said, almost as if talking to herself.

    “Yeah I think so,” the soldier said. “But maybe there's a little part of her that's having fun too.”

    Melita was stunned - stunned at the way he made light of her suffering or thought part of her was having fun. She was about the let loose with a string of invective and insults at him but realize how vulnerable she was to getting even more pain. So she kept her mouth shut.

    The soldier said to Eulalia, “I heard a rumor about you,” he said.

    “What is it?” she asked warily.

    “I heard you're on our schedule,” he said cheerfully.

    She inhaled sharply. She paused. “It's true,” she nodded. “Next month.”

    “Wow,” the young soldier said. “What happened? What did you do?”

    “I don't think I did anything,” she said. “The master said he thought it would be fun to see me a cross. He doesn't need any more reason than that.”.

    She paused for a moment. “Well,” she continued, “okay ... maybe I kind of hinted the idea to him,” she said with a sly little smile.

    “You're going to do great,” the soldier said.

    “What does that mean?” she asked. “You mean I'm going to suffer a long time?”

    “Well, yes,” he said cheerfully. “That's the point of a crucifixion, isn't it?”

    “I suppose,” she nodded. “I'll do what the master says. And maybe this is all a bit of a turn-on too,” she said with a nervous smile. “Anyway it'll be interesting. If it's my last experience on earth I might as well drink in all the feelings, good and bad, and make the most of it.”

    “And don't go easy on me,” she said cheerfully, “I can handle a lot.”

    “It's a deal,” the soldier said. “Well I have to go - I have to keep circulating. I'll make sure I'm on duty for your time on the cross. I don't want to miss that,” he said.

    “All right,” she said with a hint of a smile.

    Melita was stunned at the casual tone of this slave girl, or that anyone would think hanging naked from a cross was fun. She was close to sobbing with pain and frustration and struggled to keep a little bit of composure.

    Every few hours one of the soldiers had a little fun stimulating Melita. She was incredibly sensitive and couldn’t stop herself from responding well to that.

    In some ways this was a kindness because it gave her something else to think about than all of her pain.  But in other ways this stimulation was a horrible torture because they never let her reach satisfaction. And when one of them stopped then all of the horror of her situation came back at her in a fresh wave of emotion.

    That afternoon a vulture showed up. There was one at first. Then two. They circled high overhead. Later a few more arrived and they circled lower.

    It was an ominous sign.

    The birds seemed to sense how their victim was doing. If the condemned person was weak or ill and declining quickly, they approached more quickly.

    If the condemned was fit and healthy and likely to last a while, the birds were in no hurry. They approaching in a leisurely way.

    At first Melita didn’t see them. Her mind was focused on so many other awful thoughts and feelings as she hung on the cross.

    They descended quite a bit through the day, circling lower.

     When Melita noticed the first bird near the horizon her eyes instantly got wide with fright. Her whole body tensed and shuddered against the nails holding her in place.

     She was badly alarmed. She quickly scanned the sky to her left and right to see if there was another bird. Her mouth fell open with horror as she saw one more, then another.

                              



     Her breathing had slowed a bit. Now she gasped and gulped for air to deal with her new emotions. Her instincts kicked in hard. She wanted to do anything to get away from the birds -- to run and hide, and try to cover her bare body, and try to be with other people for protection. The nails holding her wrists overhead became absolute agony. The pain was bad. But she felt much worse about the way they kept her frozen in place, helplessly stretched out naked. 

     The birds were a sign of death. But they were far more than that. They were a sign of new torments for the condemned. They wanted to eat. And if their victim was alive and aware that did not bother them at all. For the condemned it was all part of the pain and humiliation of the process.

    Melita realized with even more horror that the birds could watch her from a distance. Any kind of movement like wiggling or struggling on the cross, or even breathing, helped to show them what a stationary, helpless and inviting target she was.

    Melita couldn’t help crying out at this new sign of torment, and whimpering after that while she tried to breathe deep and get some control over her runaway emotions. All her life she had an excessive fear of birds. Now the sight of the vultures circling slowly was just about more than she could bear. She was so terrified that she forgot some of her physical pain.

    She felt a new level of fright and arousal in her body. She felt a tingling in breasts, belly, abdomen, and every other inch of her bare body, especially her most sensitive place, with a strong sense for how vulnerable she was for whatever the birds wanted to do to her.

    Melita was horrified about what the future would be like for her as she knew the birds would take their time while they moved in closer. She yearned to die rather than face her frightful emotions. But she knew with a horrible feeling in her gut that the purpose of a crucifixion is to not let the condemned die, but to make them live as long as possible with as much pain and fear and suffering as possible. All she could do was hang there helpless, while a whirlwind of fears and worries and instincts were a tempest in her bright, active mind. 

    The soldiers on duty could see her reactions. They could see her looking around, eyes wide with fright. All of her emotions clearly written on her face and her whole body seemed to be extra tense and sensitive and "alert." A couple of them smiled. They thought it would be a good, fun show to see her reactions as the birds got closer in the hours and days ahead.

   They were right. Melita noticed a couple of them snickering at her. They found her pain and terror to be funny. Their cruel attitude made her feel even more helpless and alone, and maybe just a little bit turned on too. 

    That evening the first one came into land. Melita let out a shriek and shuddered, even though it was quite some distance. She watched with absolute horror as the bird cried out twice, then stretched his wings, made a run and took to the sky again with a big ruffle of his feathers.

   It was her first chance to see one on the ground. It was much bigger and uglier than even her fevered imagination had guessed.

   Darkness was falling fast, the end of her first day on the cross and the start of her first night.

   By then most people were home for the night. The soldiers made a bonfire some distance away. They talked and joked the way soldiers do and cooked some food.

   The night was warm, without much moonlight.

   Melita imagined she could hear the birds land around her from time to time but she couldn’t be sure. Sometimes they’d land and call out, closer each time, then take off again. Sometimes she thought she could hear one behind her. She tried frantically to see but she didn’t have any good way to look behind her.

   It was a horrible night for her of tremendous pain and even more fear. She was alert and frightened all the time. Even a rustle of leaves in the light breeze sounded to her like approach of a bird or some other dangerous animal. 

   Then it happened. One of the big ones landed on top of the cross, just above Melita’s head.

   She screamed and she shrieked and she cried out with all her might. She shuddered on the cross but the nails in her body were firm and didn’t budge.

   Some of the guards had been dozing and this brought them awake. They were amused to hear this petite young woman could make such a big volume of sound.

   They drifted over toward Melita to watch her reactions.

   Morning twilight was just beginning.

   The bird above Melita took off without touching her. He made a flap of his massive wings and he was gone.

   Melita gasped and gulped for air. She tried to regain some composure but couldn’t do it – all her strong emotions and pain and fear were far too much to bear and she burst out sobbing. In her shock and despair she called out her mother’s name. But her mother had died three years before. She called for her father but she knew he wasn’t there and wouldn’t help her. Their final conversation had been painful to her.

   She never felt such helplessness and nakedness before, realizing there was nothing she could do but wait.

   As daylight arrived people started moving around. Women were always crucified by a big shade tree, near a cross-roads location just outside of the city wall. It could be a busy place with many people passing by. The location was used so that a woman on the cross would get lots of onlookers. She would never have a moment of privacy during daylight hours -- she'd have an audience to watch all her suffering every minute of every day with no way for her to turn away. The big shade tree mostly protected her from the blazing sun, which also helped her survive and suffer for the longest possible time.

   Melita was unusually pretty in spite of the torments she’d been through so far. Plenty of people wanted to pause and watch her ordeal for awhile.

   A vendor with a cart came by and stopped some distance away. He was a regular at this spot, selling small meat pies and a certain kind of cheap, strong sweet wine. He catered to travelers, and to those who wanted to stay and watch the crucifixion for a while. He was in a good mood – a pretty girl on the cross was good for business.

   A few people bought his food and drink. Some of them stood around Melita, watching her as they nibbled their food or sipped a beverage.

   He poured one full cup and offered it to a soldier with a gesture to Melita. The soldier nodded. He went over to her and held the cup over his head, close to her lips.

   She nodded to say she’d drink it.

   She opened wide and he poured it all down her throat at once, none too carefully. Some of it dribbled onto her bare chest and mingled with the sweat and dust on her skin. But she was able to swallow most of it and felt grateful for this small kindness.

   The strong wine had a big effect on her petite body.

   After a few minutes it seemed to ease her pain a little. This was heavenly for her.

   It didn’t reduce her feelings of being incredibly helpless and vulnerable, hanging naked from the nails in her wrists. But for a while it helped her feel that being totally helpless and vulnerable might feel a little bit fun and sexy. She had a little fun wiggling and twisting just a bit for the onlookers to show off how helpless she was and get the best views of her body.

   The effect of the wine wore off in time and the full sense of pain and dread returned to her.

   The birds circled but with they were in no hurry to land, especially with all the people around. Melita’s heart was filled with dread every time she saw them because she knew they’d be back with darkness and they weren’t going to hold back.

   Most of the day was excruciating for Melita. A few minutes nailed to a cross will feel like an eternity. She knew she had countless minutes, hours and days ahead. There was nothing for Melita do to but try to deal with feelings.

   Her mind started slipping at times. She imagined she was at her old house, cooking or sewing with her mother, feeling loved and safe and happy. But these dreams never lasted long. After a few minutes her mind would snap back to reality and it was almost like rediscovering once again the horror of her situation.

   Even small things kept her from letting her thoughts drift too much. Insects buzzed around her all day. There was an unusually large fly that just wouldn't go away. When it buzzed by her face she tried to shake her head back and forth to discourage it. But the fly didn’t seem to mind and continued to buzz near her. She watched once as it landed on her left breast. She tried to shake it off but she couldn’t move much – her breast swayed gently and this probably just made it look like a more appealing target. The onlookers liked to see her shake her boobs helplessly.

   A while after that the fly landed on her right breast and the pattern repeated itself. Then the fly bit her hard. She gasped and shuddered. There was nothing else she could do but absorb this new pain and indignity, and wait helplessly for more to come.

   A fly or two continued to buzz around her after that – maybe the same one or maybe new ones were arriving. She couldn’t do anything but hang there. Other insects would bite or sting from time to time, whenever they wanted. She was a helpless target.

   And as the afternoon shadows started getting long she was filled with new dread and that gave her mind new fears to worry about.

   Sure enough at dusk the vultures came close again. Clearly they were feeling far more confident, aggressive and hungry than the night before. They landed with impunity on the ground near the poor girl, moved in close as she screamed and panted for breath, then took off again. Quickly two of them landed on the cross bar where her wrists were nailed. She shrieked and cried out. They took off but came back again in a few minutes.

   The first strike caught her by surprise. With lightning speed one bird drove his beak deep into her left eye socket before she could react. The pain wasn’t great at first – in fact it took her a minute to realize what had happened. Then she really sobbed. A few minutes later another bird tried to strike her right eye. This time she was ready. When he tried to strike she shook her head violently and made him miss. She avoided him two more times but the outcome was inevitable. She blinked just as the bird struck a fourth time. He buried his beak deep into her eye socket, destroying her right eye as well.

   Now blind, Melita could do nothing but hang there an imagine the worst. She didn’t have long to wait. The birds took turns landing on the cross, making a mean and painful peck on her exposed arm or face or shoulder or chest, and flying off again. She never knew when the blows would land, or where.

   About an hour later she was surprised to hear one of the soldiers. He seemed to be approaching her.

   “Get away!” he hollered. “Get away! Get away you spawn of the devil!” he shouted over and over.

   He seemed to be driving the birds away. Her heart jumped at that thought. Her heart raced. “Oh gods -- that would be fantastic!” she thought.

   She also thought, “Why didn’t you drive them away sooner you bastard!!??”

   He came close to Melita. “Drink wine, girl,” he said very brusquely.

   She knew what to do. She nodded her thanks and hoped he would see her gesture in the pale light. Then she opened her mouth wide. She wanted to be nice to him. She wanted him to stay around.

   Like before, the soldier poured a big glass of cheap wine into her mouth all at once. Some of it dribbled down her chest once again but she managed to catch most of it and swallow it.

   The soldier stepped back. He was silent for a moment. Then he spoke. “Okay all you bastards,” he said, speaking to the birds again but using a softer tone this time, “I’m going to sleep. Resume what you were doing.”

   Melita’s heart sank.

   “And don’t go easy on this one,” the soldier said with a chuckle. “She’s a feisty little wench. She can handle a lot.”

   Melita could hear him walking away, leaving her alone in the darkness with the hellish creatures moving all around her.

   In spite of feeling so helpless over the last day or more she quickly realized how much she relied on her eyesight to help her make sense of the world around her. Now with all her eyesight gone she felt even more alone and helpless.

   The birds closed in around her.

                                                           *              *             *             *             *

   In the end Melita lasted almost a week before she expired. It was a remarkable record of stamina and will to live.

   She never exactly seemed to lose consciousness. At times she seemed to drift away into fevered dreams or some type of insanity for a short time. A couple of times she seemed to think her mother was near and she called out for help. But mostly she seemed to be conscious and aware of what was happening. She seemed to react to bites from the birds and the bites or stings of the larger insects that gathered around her.

   After the first couple of days much of her beauty was gone. Her body was disfigured by the bird bites and blood, plus her sweat mixed with dust from the air. But those who looked carefully could still see the underlying beauty of a pretty, healthy young woman.

   For some years afterward, when a young woman was due to be crucified, the judge told her to think about Melita – think about how brave and feisty and tenacious she was and how she gave a great show for all those who wanted to watch.


[END PART ONE]