Kheir wasn’t to get his nailing. He would have to forebear his sniggers .. at hearing Maciste’s cries from the hammering echoing around the square. He’d have to do without so much he had craved.
That didn’t fit with his mother’s scheme. But gloating Kheir recompensed himself with the knowledge that Maciste did not know that .. as he dragged his clanking chains up the temple steps .. where Kheir’s brand-new cross was awaiting him.
And the crowds could not know that either. With a deep despair they watched Maciste, this final hope for their liberation, being roughly thrust through their midst towards an agonizing death .. that they were to be made to watch.
Kheir had decided to join Maciste. Seated on a throne on the steps. With relish feeling the dismay as the mob watched their prince. Walked under a weighty yoke and dragging heavy leg irons through the town. Up the temple steps. Reluctantly shoved towards his smug stepbrother. Waiting for him with a cross. Both waiting to triumph over his once-proud muscular body.
Their despair plummeted further. Once the enemy king had him raised up on the cross mounted on the temple steps, the people heard Kheir order their prince stripped. The rags that were Maciste’s last shred of princely dignity ripped away. A murmured gasp went up in the crowd at this shaming of their prince in this way.
Not as shocked, though, as when this new king had his soldiers pull Maciste’s dangling legs apart and set about tying wet rawhide around his private princely parts. In dismay they’d seen their prince mounted up on the cross, strong arms tied back to the crossbar. His proud muscular chest thrust manfully forward. A fine figure of the warrior-prince .. but helpless trapped up on the cross. Doomed. Their last ray of hope.
Shocked they were made to watch Maciste’s last shred of dignity destroyed. Wet leather strips were looped around the root of his proud manliness. All stood watching, embarrassed, horror-struck at this abuse .. made to watch his manhood shamefully forced to rise .. for all to see. At the behest of this new king.
Maciste in his manliness .. forced to salute their new ruler. Done to mock Maciste’s last vestige of male pride. This shaming a symbol of their prince’s downfall. His manhood forcibly made hard for all to witness. For their new rulers to mock.
Kheir had judged the crowd’s reception well. Everyone forced here to witness this humiliation knew this should not be. Even the most pernicious of criminals were not abused like this. Yet no one dared speak a word. Not one murmur of protest on their prince’s behalf. No one dared. They had learned better. Kheir had taught them better.
A thick crude iron nail was set between Maciste’s legs. Hammered into the upright direct under his crutch .. to take his weight. And to press princely agony up into his manly parts. Tortured by his own weight. As his arms tired, the agony could only get worse. Pinned onto that coarse vindictive nail by his own failing strength. Bearing down .. crushing his balls .. pressed down on that shamefully enforced erection. A hard-on that dried rawhide would never let subside. A torture that would not let Maciste go free.
The crowd knew to listen in silence when the king’s representative stepped forward. An army captain stood beside Kheir and read from a document.
“By decree of your king ……
Everyone here-present knew that meant Kheir. And not their heir-to-the-throne on the cross. Their young vindictive king seated gloating into his stepbrother’s glaring face. The one who had seized them by conquest. Who ruled over them by fear. And who meant it to stay that way.-
” … the execution of this traitor has been stayed.”