Chapter 3: Darkness Falls
catherine
My wrists were tied to the crossbar, lots of wraps of soft rope that wouldn’t cut off the circulation to my hands. Below, my feet were roped tightly to the front of the cross with their soles pressed flat against it. All I could do was push myself up on my feet, hang by my wrists, or, as long as my Master let me have the sedile, try to rest on it.
And that was about to end. He pushed his chair back while Sarah shuffled, got up and walked toward me. The Romans played dice while Jesus was dying, and two thousand years later, they’re playing poker while I’m suffering on the cross. And I knew he wasn’t coming to show me any mercy.
“Ok, get your tight little ass off that sedile, slave!” He ordered me. “Time you did without it for a while,”
“Ow! Ohhh…“ I gasped in pain as I gingerly lifted my pussy off of the hard wooden edge, trying to comply. I had to rock my hips from side to side to work the insides of my lower lips loose from the rough wood rather than simply pulling up quickly. I glanced up to see all four of them watching me in fascination.
“Please, Sir,” I moaned, “just give me a second…” It hurt worse, a tingling ache as circulation returned down there.
“Come on slave, hurry up, I don’t have all day!” My Master said, impatiently.
“Ohhh! Uhnnnn!” I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes. I felt pins and needles and a growing burning sensation. My clit, hard as a pebble, throbbed with every heartbeat as I pushed up higher, squeezing my thighs together against the ache between my legs.
When I’d pushed myself up high on my trembling legs, he took hold of the sedile and worked it free of its socket on the cross. I gasped as I strained to hold myself up on aching muscles. Again I wondered, how long it had been since my execution began?
Easy to lose track of time when it’s measured in cycles of how long you can hang or keep yourself raised before pain, fatigue or lack of breath drives you to give up.
I was so excited and afraid, looking forward so much to this, just like I do every time, always afraid of the pain, but always wanting it so much, needing it, never getting enough of it. I lay awake all night in the corner of my cell, so hyped up for this that there was no way to sleep.
Even so, I fantasized about it, hungry for the feeling of being made helpless by others, of having my arms outstretched, my wrists and feet fixed tightly against the wood, hanging suspended, looking down over my naked, sweating body, breasts with their rock-hard nipples quivering with every gasping breath.
Except in my fantasies, I was a Roman slave, and it was not ropes that held me to the cross, but big, square nails driven through my wrists and feet. Nails that made me one, permanently, with the timber, with no hope of escape.
There was the crowd of onlookers watching me, enjoying my agony and humiliation, laughing and jeering at me, the stupid girl who got herself hung out to die on a cross, the cast-off refuse of Rome. There were guards there beside my cross, making sure no one could get to me, either to ease my suffering or end it.
I could imagine the sun beating down on my naked body, burning my skin until I glowed with the heat, the breeze between my legs, the smell of the place of execution, of hard-baked ground, rotting flesh, sweat, fear, piss and shit. Sometimes it seemed so real that I imagined that I could feel the nails that impaled me.
The agony must have been horrible, fighting against that pain just to try to breathe. The crushing shame and humiliation of being displayed in public like that for days on end.
And I want it so badly!
I ache to be that slave, to feel those nails in my wrists and feet, to have my naked body stretched out on a Roman cross in the burning sun! To feel that struggle against agony and exhaustion just to get another breath until my strength runs out! Oh God, to finally hang there totally exhausted and helpless, my body screaming for just one more breath, like drowning when I could see the surface just beyond my reach!
Yes, I want it, want it all!
My cramping legs brought me out of my fantasy, moaning. I felt my bare ass sliding against the rough wood as I slipped down until I was hanging by my wrists. I was soaking between my legs, the familiar fluttering feeling in my womb, the need for release. I wished now that I still had the sedile to rub my throbbing pussy against!
Oh God, just the barest touch...
I closed my eyes, squeezed my thighs together and the sensation grew stronger. I was panting now, the pulsing in my womb building and growing stronger by the second. My whole body was rigid, trembling, my ass straining, pushing my hips forward, my whole being focused between my legs.
I heard myself groan when my orgasm gripped my body, took control of my being. I gladly surrendered to it and let its intensity carry me away, and for a few moments there was nothing in the universe but the waves of pleasure that came, following one after the other. My orgasms are so incredibly strong while hanging on the cross, so much more powerful than anything else I’ve ever experienced.
The waves of ecstasy gradually subsided, fading until I heard myself moaning in pleasure, then felt the pain of crucifixion replace it once again.
I opened my eyes to see… nothing.
“Fuck me!” I exclaimed in surprise and consternation.
Then the full import sunk in.
“I... I can’t see! I’m blind! Oh my God, my mom told me this would happen if I didn’t stop masturbating and it finally did!” I sobbed, my head whipping around wildly, blinking my eyes to try to get them to work again. But there was nothing, not a spark of light, only blackness, everywhere blackness!
“I didn’t think cumming on the cross would count! Oh Mom, why didn’t I believe you? Why? Oh God, what am I going to do? I’m blind!” I had pushed myself up high on the cross, straining upward as if that would somehow help me get my sight back.
I’d never see sunlight, or colors, never be able to read, stumbling around in the dark for the rest of my life!
“Oh God, please, no! I… I’ll be good, I promise I’ll… well, I can’t promise I won’t ever masturbate again… but… but I promise that I won’t do it more than twice a day! And… what the fuck, no, sorry about that, it just came out! I… I’ll really, really try to stop saying ‘fuck’ so much, only please please please let me have my sight back!”
Just then there was a flicker of light. I blinked, trying desperately to focus through my tear-filled eyes, trying to catch it before I lost it again.
“Oh God, thank you thank you thank you! It’s a miracle! I can see! Just a little, but it’s coming back! It is!”
I realized what I was seeing was the glow of a cell phone screen. A couple of seconds later, there was another. I could see! Relief washed over me as I realized that I wasn’t blind.
“I… I’m ok! I’m not blind after all! Oh my God!” I said, overcome with emotion, tears in my eyes again, this time of joy and relief.
Then I realized that I was seeing those cell phone screens because the lights had gone out in the fallout shelter. I’d never been blind at all.
And then it dawned on me what I’d said out loud and who was listening.
Please God don’t let them have heard what I said and if they did please just let me die now! I thought. And then I heard a snort of laughter and thought, well fuck me for real, they damn sure did! And since I didn’t think my prayer for a sudden and merciful death was about to be answered, I knew I was going to be in for it now.
“Blind! I’m blind!” Sarah laughed, pounding the table with the flat of her hand.
“Oh, mom! Why didn’t I listen to you!” Liz gasped, barely able to talk. “If only I’d stopped paddling the pink canoe when I was thirteen!” Then she collapsed into laughter again.
I narrowed my eyes at them and sagged down on my cross, both hands fisted with the middle fingers up. “Eat shit and fucking die, you assholes!” I said.
“Well,” Doc said when he caught his breath enough so he could talk, “From personal experience I can say that if masturbation was hazardous to your eyesight I’d have been blind back in high school!”
“Well shit!” My Master – his name is Joe – said when he was finally able to talk, “Must have blown a fuse! This fucking wiring down here from the 1950s sucks!”
“You mean it’s not just a circuit breaker thrown?“ Doc said, surprised. “Who the fuck even uses fuses anymore?”
“They don’t,” my Master said, “but they did back when they built this house and this fucking fallout shelter. And replacement fuses are hard as shit to find, too.”
Some time passed while I hung on the cross in the semi-darkness and endured the mocking and jeers of the designated onlookers, which would die down only to be re-ignited by one of them saying “blind!” Mostly I just hung there with my head down and took it, only told them once or twice to go fuck themselves.
“Oh God, don’t say it again!” my Master finally said, gasping for breath as he wiped tears from his eyes. “Whew! Well I don’t know how long this is going to take,” he said, his voice resigned, “better get cat down.”
“What? No, please Sir, I… I’ve been waiting months for this! I’m not ready!” I exclaimed, pleading, “Sir, you promised!” I pushed myself up high on my cross to get a full breath so I could talk better.
“cat, I know, but…” My Master trailed off, doubtful, “I’m going to need the girls to run to Home Depot to try to find fuses, and Doc to help me track down the problem. No one is going to be able to stay with you, you’ll be alone and helpless down here in the dark!”
“I… No! Sir, I’m not afraid of the dark! All of you go on and leave me here!” I sounded crazy, I know, but I was desperate. “Please? Please let me?”
He looked at me for a long moment in the dim glow of a cell phone, then shrugged. “Ok. Could be a while but we’ll hurry.”
“Joe…” Doc said, not sure.
“Doc, you’re the doctor. Do you have any reason to think she’d be in danger?” My Master asked.
Doc is an orthopedic surgeon, about forty years old. His wife, Sarah, is a couple of years younger, and Liz, an absolute airhead, is just nineteen. All of us are members of a BDSM group that currently has seventeen members. My Master is thirty years old, and I’m twenty-two.
“No, actually, I don’t. It’s just counter-intuitive, leaving someone helpless in the dark. Something could go wrong. But no, she’s hydrated, still strong enough to last a long time yet.”
“Ok then it’s settled. Come on, let’s go,” My Master said and started walking toward the door.
I was so relieved. “I’ll be ok, sir, don’t worry!” I told him. “Take your time, be careful!”
I watched the glow of the cell phones recede as they all moved toward the door that opens into the basement of the house. There was a “clunk” as he threw the handle back on the heavy steel door, then the loud squeal of the seventy-five-year-old hinges as it swung outward. The last of the light disappeared as the door creaked its way shut behind them, then clanged solidly. It won’t stay open; it’s designed to be self-closing and they didn’t try to block it open.
I sank down until my arms drew taut and I was hanging by my wrists once again. My breathing at once became more difficult.
And the darkness was absolute.
Excellent work, Jedakk! 
