Visceral, vivid.
(and where can we find the videos?)
Coo, Phlebas, that would be a box office smash hit!
![Smile :) :)](/xf/styles/default/xenforo/smilies/smile.png)
Visceral, vivid.
(and where can we find the videos?)
yes, the video will be available thenFrom now 74281 days till the dreamdate of Sassi.
This is quite utterly wonderful. Thank you Sissi and Eul.A Dream Comes True – chapter 3
(written by Sassi and transleted by great Eulalia)
"Don‘t go!" sobbed Julia, "don’t leave me alone, I'm completely helpless! Please, come back!" But no-one came. She was alone. All alone.
"Oh God," she gasped, "one hour! That was only one hour!" They’d agreed that the men would be allowed to watch her for one hour, that they’d be allowed to take pictures of her as they wished, while she was writhing on the cross and beggeing for mercy.
"One hour!" whimpered Julia. She tried to push up on the cross, to press against the timber. "Just a single hour! Only one hour! " Before her stretched another twenty-three hours. That was unimaginable. " I can‘t!" she sobbed, "I can‘t take any more! No-one could bear this!"
She shuddered. You'll have to bear it, said a little voice in her head, because no-one’s going to let you down from the cross before time. You asked for it, Julia, you’re only getting what you wanted - you knew it would hurt!
" But not so much!" cried Julia, her trembling intensifying, "not so much! It hurts like I could never have imagined. I can‘t possibly hold out for twenty-three hours! No way!" With a long-drawn howl she began writhing again on the cross. She couldn‘t do anything about it, it happened spontaneously, her body writhing in an ecstasy of pain.
"I‘m being crucified," she gasped, "I‘m really and truly being crucified! I‘m hanging stark naked on a wooden cross, hands and feet fixed with nails to the wood - yes, nailed! Just like I‘d always imagined, I‘m experiencing it in reality! God, this is crazy!" She was sobbing loudly. It was hurting, so much! But she’d wanted it, more than anything else in the world. She‘d always dreamed of being crucified, it had begun very early.
Julia remembered very clearly how, at seven years old, she‘d gone with her grandmother to church. Grannie had arranged it subtly. When they were in the church there was a solemn atmosphere, the people spoke only in hushed tones.
Julia hadn‘t taken much notice of the service, she had eyes only for the large crucifix behind the altar, she couldn’t take them off the half-naked body which hung with outstretched arms on the giant cross, held by large nails driven into the wrists and bare feet for all to see.
The sight had fascinated her, she’d stared at the nailed man on the cross and imagined what it would feel like to hang there, held with nails through the wrists and feet, all but naked before the eyes of many people. She felt her heart racing at the thought of actually being nailed like that to a cross.
After the Mass the women stayed behind for a bit. Julia wandered through the church. She followed the Stations of the Cross, there were paintings of these on the side walls of the church. Full of fascination she looked at the picture where Jesus was held down on the cross and a soldier was nailing his feet .
In the picture , only one nail was being used. Two soldiers were holding Jesus‘ lower leg, with his right foot pressed over the, and a third soldier was driving a giant nail through both feet. Heart pounding, little Julia had tried to imagine the pain this terrible nailing must produce.
Then she’d looked at the picture where three men were hanging on on their crosses. Again, in each case, the victim’s feet had been nailed one over the other. A single nail held both feet, of Jesus and of the two robbers. Julia had gazed at this image, and then looked at the crucifix behind the altar. There, the feet of Jesus stood side by side and a nail was driven into each foot.
That had appealed better to little Julia. She‘d gone forward and looked closely at the crucifix. Again her heart pounded, she couldn‘t turn her eyes away. It was only when her grandmother called her that she turned around and walked towards her. Before they left the church, Julia looked around again. The image of the half-naked body on the cross she’d memorized precisely.
This experience had never let go of Julia, from that day on she‘d dreamed of being crucified like that. Again and again she imagined herself in situations where they took off her clothes and put her on a cross. Then someone would come with a hammer and nails and nail her hands and feet to the wood. Julia wanted nothing so much as to experience it herself. She wanted to hang helpless on a cross, her arms spread wide. She wanted to know what it felt like.
" Well now you are experiencing it," gasped Julia, "now you know what it feels like – it‘s unbearable!" She groaned loudly, "And yet you’re going to endure it, Julia, because you have to! You’re going to bear something that no human can endure. That‘s absolutely crazy!"
Julia felt the pain. Her wrists hurt most, because they were holding almost all her weight on their nails. She couldn’t really support herself, she was hanging in front of the wood of the cross, and, although her feet were on the footrest, that was inclined obliquely downwards and gave her little support, and moreover there were the nails driven through her feet,so if she braced herself and pressed her knees to move her body slightly upwards to escape the horrific strain on her arms, burning pain shot through her legs, her feet especially the feet hurt quite appallingly.
Julia found herself thinking of the day when she went looking for the term "bastinado" on the Internet. In Wikipedia she’d found an exact description of the punishment: blows inflicted on one’s bare soles with a stick or a whip. That was a very painful punishment: in the first place, in the sole of the foot there are very many nerves, and, secondly, no numbness arises when it is hit - on the contrary, the more strokes you get, the stronger the pain becomes.
That’s how she was feeling now on the cross, her feet were being tortured terribly, and Mr. Pain was creeping gradually through her entire body, everything hurt. She began to writhe on the cross again, she couldn’t help it. Sobbing, she reared up, then she sagged, then she reared up again, writhing all the while like a worm .
"Caretaker," she sobbed, "the caretaker must come! It could happen – maybe he’ll just get the idea to come and just check things. Caretakers do that. Here at this school there aren’t any robots, no garden–bot, cleaning-bot, no kitchen-bot, everything here is old-fashioned, everything’s done by people. Maybe the janitor will come by, just like that, to see things are all right."
It was idiotic even to entertain the notion that the caretaker would come on a weekend out of town just to look around the school, this was utter nonsense, Julia knew that. The man would be making himself comfortable at home with his family. Whoever’s going to work voluntarily at the weekend?
"Maybe ramblers? " Julia pulled heself up, panting frantically, then she began to scream, "Help! Help! Can anybody hear me! Help!" She screamed and screamed, she yelled with all her might for help, even though she knew there was no chance anyone would hear her. That was why they‘d chosen this school outside the city when they discussed it on the Darknet, it stands alone and deserted in the middle of a park and is surrounded by high walls. No path runs around the grounds, there could be no walkers, she knows no-one can hear her.
She flopped, shivering, on the cross. "Oh God! Oh God! Please! Can’t anyone hear me?" She sobbed, "please help me! I can‘t bear it any more, I really can‘t stand it any longer!" The caretaker - maybe he will come ? Perhaps he‘ll remember later on today that he’s forgotten something? Left a light on? Forgotten to switch off the heating for the weekend? When he comes, I’ll hear his hovercar, she mused. New hope sprouted in her. She calmed down, trying not to moan loudly, so as not to miss the sound of the turbines of an approaching hovercar.
She hung very quietly on the cross. "Please let it happen, dear God," she whispered, "please let the janitor come and rescue me. I can‘t do any more. I can’t take it anymore. The pain‘s unbearable."
But endure it she did, she was holding out, she was undergoing the incredible pain. She was a bit surprised. I’m actually managing it, she thought, I can‘t stand it, yet I have to. I‘m stuck to the cross. I'm nailed. I can‘t get off. I‘m totally helpless. I‘m a prisoner of the Cross. I can only wait until someone comes and frees me.
She squirmed a little, moving slowly on the cross, testing out how much room she had free for maneuvering on the cross. It wasn‘t much, she was hanging with her arms outstretched, her feet propped on the down-slanted footrest. When she pressed down with her legs, she could lift her body a little up, to ease the gruesome strain on her arms. She could move her pelvis a little to the left or to the right.
She had a choice of intense pain in her wrists or acute agony in her feet. She could do what she chose, but she‘d certainly never escape the cruel torture. That‘s the wicked cruelty of crucifixion with nails, it hurts continuously. That's why she was heaving herself up again and again, that's why she was writhing on the wood. It was an unending dance driven on by Mr. Pain.
But sometimes she managed to hang quietly and rest a little. "I must get off," whispered Julia, "I can‘t bear it, I really cannot!" But then she felt pride rising up in her, "You, Julia, Nightgirl of the chatroom, you are enduring it! You’re experiencing it for real, a true crucifixion!“
How often had she dreamed of suffering this, how many times had she imagined herself just enduring what she was actually going through now! How often she had a burning desire to be nailed naked to a cross!Now it had become a reality. Yes, Julia felt pride, she was proud to be bearing it, she felt proud because she could stand it.
After she‘d hung a few minutes quite still on the cross, the burning pain forced her to begin twisting slowly, squirming. She had to, willy-nilly. In a way, it was fascinating, hadn‘t she always imagined it would be like this? Hadn’t she always know that the cross would capture her? That the cross would defeat her? That the cross would break her will? That she would writhe naked on the cross?
A thought flashed through her mind, suppose I were being crucified outside, in public!That would crown it all, she thought, to be publicly exposed, naked, nailed, up on the cross! I’d be squirming in agony, and down there they’d be standing and gazing at me, men and women would be watching me as I struggle on the cross.
Scarcely believing it, Julia felt arousal spreading in her woman-parts. She was starting to tingle down there between her legs. She was becoming sexually excited despite the monstrous pain. She moaned, and it was a moan of pleasure, all the more so because of her agony!
Suddenly she remembered the cameras that were filming her. They could all see and hear what was happening to her. She turned bright red, she suppressed a renewed urge to groan - but she felt herself wet. That's the pain, she thought. If a girl has pain inflicted on her, she grows wet – she’d read that in a blog about BDSM.
But now she knew better, she was wet because she was aroused. Above all the terrible pain she felt strong stimulation. For a while it was easier to endure the agony, she was feeling proud – and horny. She was Nightgirl, the crucified girl, Julia on the cross. She was enduring it. She was enduring it with pride!