Part 8: Nails And Regrets

Flappy went first. Her guards marched her to a cross where they freed her arms and made her lie down on it, arms spread wide. Chief Engineer Sudo, a middle-aged man who was quite unusual among Vorden's crew for preferring the company of machinery to women advanced on her, magnetic nail-driver in hand and a calculating expression on his face. Flappy tried to crawl away, but the guards were having none of it, one of them sitting down on her naked chest to hold her down. Held like that, the guard's knees pinning her arms to the wood, she was unable to see what was happening to her left wrist, only hearing the gasps and muttered prayers of the watching slaves. And then…

WHACK!

They hadn't actually been able to find proper antique nails, but the 20-centimeter anchoring spike that drove through Flappy's wrist was close enough. It ripped apart skin and muscle, tore through ligaments and destroyed nerves as it firmly anchored her to the wooden crossbeam.
The nailed bitch screamed. There was nothing even remotely human about that sound, just pure animal pain and fear forced out of her lungs in a wail that seemed to go on forever.

A rattle of chains drew his attention to the other four. Red had dropped to her knees, the freckles on her face and little tits standing out sharply against skin gone so pale it was almost snow white as she hyperventilated in panic. Beachball had apparently fainted altogether and Yakuv hurried forward to put her back on her feet. And Ice…she was standing still as a statue, no emotions visible in her face. He zoomed in again. There was some moisture between her legs, but he wasn't sure if that wasn't just a leftover from his earlier fuck. Her nipples were still hard, and her labia flushed and engorged though, as they had been ever since the last walk had started.

Another WHACK!, another wail as Flappy's right arm was nailed as well. The guard sitting on her tits stood up and her back immediately arched up as she sought to find some position that'd reduce the agony in her wrists a little. Her beautiful face was locked in a grimace of pain and sheer terror, and her almost-perfect body was writhing in ways that brought the blood rushing to the captain's cock…again, he mused. A guard removed the shackles from her feet but Sudo left them free for now, and Calpurnia commanded her eager servants to bring the next victim, chewing the scenery and obviously enjoying every moment of it.

Scars fought every step of the way, her chocolate skin glistening with sweat as she tried to escape, but her guards were mercilessly efficient. She, too was pinned down on a cross. She was babbling something Vorden's translator told him was a prayer of some sort when the naildriver fired again and her words vanished into an anguished wail.
"Where is your god now?", Calpurnia commented with an evil grin.

The second nail was fired and then it was the blonde barbarian's turn. She offered no resistance as the guards pushed her forward, stoically walking to the third cross where they removed her restraints in preparation for nailing. Vorden was just about to curse the idiots for being careless when Ice sprang into action. Heaving one of her guards into the other she took off like a rocket, muscles glistening in the early afternoon sun as she sprinted towards…

"She's going for the edge! STOP her!" Calpurnia yelled a moment before he could give the order himself. That way, just thirty short meters away a sheer drop down to jagged rocks and a raging ocean awaited, and the athletic runaway's intentions were obvious. He was running too now, even though he knew he'd never even make it into stunner range. She raced onwards while guards -idiots, the lot of them!- tried to ready stun carbines and had almost made it when a hundred and forty kilograms of ex-marine tackled her from behind and slammed her to the ground. Her breath was driven from her lungs in a grunt, and before she could even think of recovering Kamal had already grabbed both of her wrists in a vise-like grip. By then, other guards had made it to her as well and she was once again subdued. Vorden stopped among the crosses and sighed with relief. If she'd got away with her suicide, the psychological effect of this entire pageant would have been reduced significantly. The goal had always been to make it obvious to the slaves that they were powerless to escape in any way, and while they'd made sure not to leave them any obvious implements of suicide in their pens and cells, bitches could get quite creative at times.

Screaming, kicking and struggling Ice was dragged back to her cross. Kamal personally pinned her chest down while two guards secured each arm and another two were holding her legs. There was almost no room for Sudo to stand and it took another few seconds for him to get set up.
He looked at Ice, buried under a heap of bodies, and for a moment their gazes locked. There was no fight left in those tear-filled eyes, just fear and a wordless plea. Please. Not like this.

He held her gaze for another second or so and, without really knowing why, quietly mouthed "Sorry."

WHACK!

Sudo had finally found his angle and Ice bucked under the weight of her tormentors while an anguished scream tore from her lungs. Breathing in rapid, anguished gasps she looked directly at him again as Sudo walked around to her other side.

"Sorry", he mouthed again, and was surprised to realize that he meant it. She'd been the best fuck he'd had in ages. It would have been amazing to properly tame that wild beast. He would have bought her out, special customers be damned, he'd have kept her for himself.
But she'd ran, and now he had to destroy her.