“Well, that was somewhat exciting, but Jane has something even better lined up for you!” said Fred, closing the dungeon scene door behind him and indicating that we should follow him.

He led us through the corridors until we came through the gate into the Roman crucifixion scene. The crucifix was lying on the floor, and I could see that it was on a hinge so that it could easily be raised and lowered.

I looked at my daughter excitedly.

“Yes, Dad, I know you are particularly fond of crucifixion,” said my daughter, “so I have arranged for you to nail a convict to our cross!”

As she spoke I could hear a commotion going on in the corridor, and the two soldiers reappeared at the gate dragging a naked young teenage girl by her armpits as she tried to kick them, encumbered by her shackles.

Fred didn’t give her time to adjust to the scene that greeted her. He came up behind her and smartly kicked her arse, knocking her legs forwards. At the same time the soldiers removed their arms from under her armpits and grabbed her upper arms instead. Bending down, they slammed her onto the floor and held her there. I could tell that they’d done this routine several times before.

The girl lay on her back, momentarily stunned when the back of her head hit the floor. Fred came around and took hold of her shackles, and with the soldiers holding her arms, they quickly lifted her up and placed her over the cross.

With a smile, my daughter handed me four square nails and a hammer, and I took the time to savour the scene before me.

Fred was sitting on the girl’s legs, having removed her shackles, and the soldiers knelt above her head, firmly holding down her arms over the patibulum. She had recovered enough to look up at me, and I could see her shock register as she realised what I was holding and what was about to happen to her.

My wife and I knelt down and I took the girl’s right hand in mine, marvelling at the smoothness of her unblemished young skin and feeling the spot on her wrist where I would shortly violate her with my first nail.

I reflected that I held the power of life and death over this girl, and my cock became rock hard as I looked into her eyes and saw the terror of a cornered animal that knows it is about to die staring back at me.

The girl screwed up her eyes in anticipation as I took a nail and placed it over her wrist. I raised the hammer and brought it down cleanly so that the nail made its way between her tendons and into the wood without severing an artery.

After a few seconds the sensation worked its way to her brain and she screamed in anguish, her back arching reflexively as she struggled against those restraining her.

I raised the hammer again and again, forcing the nail further into the wood as the girl wept uncontrollably.

Once the head of the nail was almost touching the girl’s skin, I looked over at my wife and knew I had to give her the opportunity to experience the nailing too. I offered her a nail and watched as she fixed the girl’s left wrist to the patibulum.

Everyone slowly got to their feet and looked down at the girl as she squirmed and cried. No one had spoken in the past five minutes; it was as if we were taking part in a solemn, sacred ritual.

My daughter broke the silence.

“This is where we leave you,” she said, as Fred and the soldiers left through the gate.

I looked at her questioningly, unsure what to do or say.

“It will be up to you to finish crucifying her in your own way. You have until the funfair opens at six o’clock.”

She came over to us, and with a sly grin whispered, “You know, it is said that the Romans weren’t allowed to crucify a virgin. And I just happen to know that the prison doctor examined her earlier; she’s clear of disease and unbroken.”

“Happy wedding anniversary!” my daughter trilled as she closed the gate behind her.