How could I have been so careless? The Emperor was slain by a cutthroat assassin. The traitors swiftly seized control of the capital army. As Captain of the all-female Royal Guard I ordered a futile counterattack, but we were overwhelmed and had no choice but to surrender.
Our captors stripped us of our dignity. We were paraded on the streets naked and in chains while the cityfolk pelted us with insults and eggs. At night the soldiers took great pleasure in defiling us. I was treated no better than a common whore, perhaps worse. I was beaten, sodomized, choked and urinated upon.
Finally, our sentence of doom was passed. Those of us who remained were brought to the forum, a large plaza in front of the palace, where a rowdy crowd had gathered baying for blood. To further humiliate us, slaves were ordered to apply gaudy makeup on our faces. Denied the honor of dying as soldiers, we would die as prostitutes instead.
A slanderous list of crimes was read out to all who were present. Soldiers lead the first five victims up onto the executioner's platform where they were bent over and locked into pillories. Behind them, executioners inserted long wooden spikes, thick as a man's arm, into their anuses, causing the poor girls to shriek in pain. Then the hammering began. With each strike the executioners destroyed their bodies and minds. With each strike came bloodcurdling cries or futile appeals for mercy.
Gradually the screaming stopped. Soldiers carried the impaled girls out of the city, where we would line the roads and left to rot as a warning to any would be loyalists. A new batch of girls were brought onstage and the process repeated again. My shame reached new heights as I watched my friends and comrades die one by one.
The Sun was now setting. I could hear the crows feasting on my sisters outside the gates. I stoically walked up the stairs to embrace my death. Seeking to rekindle excitement amongst the crowd, the traitors had their way with my body. Locked into the pillory, I could do little as they violated my anus. "Practice for the spike," they mocked.
Spent and satisfied, the rebel leaders ordered the executioners to continue. No man's cock could have prepared me for this. The sharpened tip of the spike made its way into my prolapsed anus. I screamed my throat out. Then came the heartless hammering. More pain, more screaming.
"AAAAAAHH LET ME DIE! LET ME DIE PLEASE!"
Thock. Thock. Thock. Each strike seemed to double the intensity of my suffering. The spike pushed its way ever deeper into my body, rupturing my organs. My brain ceased to comprehend anything except the pain.
Tired. Everything going dark. The soldiers lift my impaled body. I close my eyes. I can hear my comrades calling for me…
Very good scenario. Thank you.
A small regret is that the impalement is not vaginal and that, delivered to the gravity, the tortured women sink themselves little by little, by their own weight on a big wooden pole with the rounded tip and slightly conical.
In this way, when the pole has entered more than 40 cm, the descent will be slowed down and stopped, because the diameter is larger than the internal pelvimetry of women …
The crowd will be happy because the show will last very, very long.
And maybe there will be no fatal outcome for the victims, already punished enough!