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Big Beautiful Olivia's Crucifixion

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Very good story!

The part "My screams my blubbering my moans how I twist and shudder... About two hours of hanging in the hot sun barely conscious one of the wealthier onlookers pays for some...", is it out of place? It read like she is already on the cross.

Also, it would have been so good if you described the raising of the cross, as you come into full view of the pitiless crowd, and feel the full penalty of your weight pulling you down against the nails.
I caught that as well. I definitely could have been clearer and made it so it fit chronologically... :)
 
Fronto's eyes are drawn to the large woman. There is something about the way she hangs against her nails, something in the way her body responds to the agony of the cross. She seems somehow more female than the slim girls around her. She seems to have entered a state of hightened sensuality, of greater responsiveness to physical and sexual stimulation.

Such a woman could be dangerous.

The crowd had watched as she was shamed, humiliated, degraded, yet she seemed eager to debase herself over and over. Fronto was puzzled by the perversity of it. He wished to know more, to know what made her work. He wished to know how far he could push her, to find her limits. Then he would take her beyond into destruction.

He decided against fire for now, he wished to pursue another line of exploration. A word with the carnifex and he had what he needed, a splendid "rhino horn". Carved from wood, it consisted of two "horns", one short, the other longer and thicker than the first. This was a refinement of the basic cornu which had a single shaft and multiple uses - male or female, cunnus or rectum. The rhino horn was crafted for female use only, a double penetration which required some effort to ride comfortably. Fronto had rarely seen such a device used, and never seen it used to his satisfaction.

He wondered if he had finally found a woman who would do the horn justice. He felt that this had the potential to tame her, and if not, then he was curious to see just how she may respond to such a gross violation.

She had noticed him now, her eyes widened as she saw the tool in his hands.

He ordered the horn to be mounted on the cross.
 
Olivia was already sagging heavily on the cross. To fit the horn several men came forward and grasped her thighs, lifting and holding her higher against the stipes. Olivia found her thighs parted as men held her tightly, she felt the wood shudder as one man stood between her legs and hammered the cornu in place against the beam.

She had never felt so vulnerable in all her life.

She knew now that when the men released her she would have to support her weight in this raised position, or lower herself onto the double cornu. She had always disliked anal sex, and this was not the fleshy shaft of a man, but hard unyielding wood. Before the anal shaft, though, she would have to accomodate the longer front horn. It had looked so large in the hands of that Roman, so unforgiving. Thick, and round, it deeply frightened her, but deep down it aroused her curiosity too. Could she take it inside? Did she have a choice? What would it feel like? She had never taken men in two holes at once. Now she would be doubly fucked by this tree of death, penetrated in full view of all the people. She would have to ease herself onto it, wriggle a little, line up the shaft at the back. She would not have much time to prepare, the men were almost finished their work.

Olivia took a deep breath.
 
Now she would be doubly fucked by this tree of death -Phlebas
Tree does not fuck with forked cock!!!!:spank:

Tree

Not you, Tree, the other tree :)

Roxie has just posted an amazing poem about a woman's encounter with a cornu. She really looks at it from every, err, angle. I'm half wondering if this little story here is worth continuing, as I am struggling to find the time and space to sit down and do it! Maybe in a day or two. Maybe when I am curious enough myself to see what happens :D
 
Uh oh! D: This is gonna hurt.. !

Probably. Or you may like it. Who can say? :D

*****************

It was so shameful, the rough hands holding her thighs, one right under her arse, supporting her weight as the cornu was fitted. Those hard hands, working hands, so close to her exposed sex. Olivia felt a thrill to feel them there, her vulnerability excited her despite the shame she felt. She struggled against the men for a moment, her efforts earning shouts of both encouragement and ridicule from the crowd, while the bells on her tits rang out in mockery.

She felt fingers move to her pussy, spread her lips to receive the horn beneath her. Olivia tensed as the round end of the first horn touched her. It entered slowly at first as the men lowered her onto it, smooth and thick, pushing aside her lips and forcing itself into the flesh behind. Now the men released their hold, all her weight was again on the nails in her limbs, and on the wood between her legs. She cried out, frantically strove to hold herself up, afraid of the cornu but knowing she did not have the strength to stay off it. The choice was stark. Suspended on nails that were a constant and unending source of agony, the cornu offered relief of a kind. But at what cost? Olivia would have to face that within moments when her strength gave out, she would soon see just what the cornu had in store for her.

Everyone heard her gasp as the cornu forced itself further inside, they watched with interest as she was forced to move her hips obscenely to accomodate the shaft, trying to ride it in the least painful way. Dignity was no longer something she could afford.

Fronto was waiting patiently for the moment that most interested him, the moment when this woman dropped far enough to meet the second horn. There it is! With the first already deep inside, the anal horn now pressed on her fleshy arse. Now she would have to wriggle even more, to direct the shaft into her anus in the least damaging way, her movement severely restricted by the first horn.

Waves of sensation swept over Olivia. She was moving on the vaginal shaft with more freedom now, as it gradually lubricated, but the support it provided her nailed wrists and feet was at the cost of her stretched vaginal muscles. Now she felt the pressure of the rear horn in her tight and inexperienced anus, as she desperately moved her hips and lower body to find relief. Her face was hard to read. Fronto wondered what was going through the woman's mind.
 
This story is not flowing for me, as I reread it I find it odd, punctuated strangely, uncertain of its direction. Maybe it's just me. Or maybe I need to change direction. Let's change tack.

*************************
I see Olivia in my mind now. She is curvy, beautiful, though she doesn't believe it of herself. She has been brutally treated, stripped, scourged, nailed through the sweet flesh of her wrists and feet. Shamed, degraded, bells attached to her lovely breasts to further humiliate her. There is no privacy.

She is a woman crucified.

Sensuality radiates from her. The cross transforms her woman's body into a wonder of raw sexuality. Her struggle against the wood is a primal struggle for life, for dignity, and this transforms her, lifts her to a hightened state.

Olivia is learning things about herself which were previously a mystery. The world has shrunk, the people recede, there is just her and the cross, her lover, her tormenter.

Into this world comes the cornu. Her tender pussy is assaulted, stretched, as she is forced to take the wood into herself, sliding down the first shaft as her weight shifts from her limbs to her sex. Yes, a woman's internal muscles are strong, pushing a baby is hard work! Still, they were not designed for load bearing!

Now the rear shaft. Olivia feels the wood press on her, she wriggles, she shifts, she feels the tickle of it on her arsehole. In her mind she feels real fear, but a thrill goes through her body. The touch has awakened something, stirred sensations she had not imagined. Although partly limited by the cornu deep in her cunt, she moves her hips, wriggles her beautifully full arse this way and that, easing the rounded point of the second cornu gradually into her tight little hole. Gradually her weight bore down, more and more, the wood penetrating, the sensations building. Olivia is oblivious to the watching crowd. She doesn't care what they think. The shafts awakens her to a new understanding of her body.

Now she raises herself again, agony blossoming in her pierced limbs. Old pain, but necessary, she rises for the dance of life, the dance of death, the crux dance. Breath revives her, pain diminishes her, muscles tremble with effort. Now, down again, gently, gently, to the welcoming shafts. She is penetrated again, over and over, her body overwhelmed by the strength of it, pain and pleasure and something beside, beyond description, beyond previous experience.

I see her, on her cross, on her seat. The seat of mercy. Of torture and degradation. The seat of pleasure and transformation. Between heaven and earth. Between life and death. Pleasure and pain.

I see her.
 
This story is not flowing for me, as I reread it I find it odd, punctuated strangely, uncertain of its direction. Maybe it's just me. Or maybe I need to change direction. Let's change tack.

*************************
I see Olivia in my mind now. She is curvy, beautiful, though she doesn't believe it of herself. She has been brutally treated, stripped, scourged, nailed through the sweet flesh of her wrists and feet. Shamed, degraded, bells attached to her lovely breasts to further humiliate her. There is no privacy.

She is a woman crucified.

Sensuality radiates from her. The cross transforms her woman's body into a wonder of raw sexuality. Her struggle against the wood is a primal struggle for life, for dignity, and this transforms her, lifts her to a hightened state.

Olivia is learning things about herself which were previously a mystery. The world has shrunk, the people recede, there is just her and the cross, her lover, her tormenter.

Into this world comes the cornu. Her tender pussy is assaulted, stretched, as she is forced to take the wood into herself, sliding down the first shaft as her weight shifts from her limbs to her sex. Yes, a woman's internal muscles are strong, pushing a baby is hard work! Still, they were not designed for load bearing!

Now the rear shaft. Olivia feels the wood press on her, she wriggles, she shifts, she feels the tickle of it on her arsehole. In her mind she feels real fear, but a thrill goes through her body. The touch has awakened something, stirred sensations she had not imagined. Although partly limited by the cornu deep in her cunt, she moves her hips, wriggles her beautifully full arse this way and that, easing the rounded point of the second cornu gradually into her tight little hole. Gradually her weight bore down, more and more, the wood penetrating, the sensations building. Olivia is oblivious to the watching crowd. She doesn't care what they think. The shafts awakens her to a new understanding of her body.

Now she raises herself again, agony blossoming in her pierced limbs. Old pain, but necessary, she rises for the dance of life, the dance of death, the crux dance. Breath revives her, pain diminishes her, muscles tremble with effort. Now, down again, gently, gently, to the welcoming shafts. She is penetrated again, over and over, her body overwhelmed by the strength of it, pain and pleasure and something beside, beyond description, beyond previous experience.

I see her, on her cross, on her seat. The seat of mercy. Of torture and degradation. The seat of pleasure and transformation. Between heaven and earth. Between life and death. Pleasure and pain.

I see her.
Two interesting variations phlebas. Pp enjoyed the first and now has a second interpretation. He hopes Deborah enjoys both too.
 
Well, I certainly enjoyed the first version, but Phlebas seems to have used it as a springboard into a version which was a real crux symphony, Phlebas using words as a great composer uses notes.

I just love it when Phlebas follows his muse!

:clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping:
 
Phlebas...thank you. You took the oyster and found a pearl so to speak!

Between you and Primus I believe my lovely Olivia has found men who truly know how to tune her like an instrument...like the beautiful sensual instrument of pleasure and pain a woman wants to be on her cross... <3
 
Phlebas...thank you. You took the oyster and found a pearl so to speak!

Between you and Primus I believe my lovely Olivia has found men who truly know how to tune her like an instrument...like the beautiful sensual instrument of pleasure and pain a woman wants to be on her cross... <3
Deborah, it is a pleasure for Pp to write something that he finds is so appreciated. He must keep looking for the leads you offer up.

It has also been great to see phlebas write these two pieces with differing interpretations on the same theme.
 
Deborah, it is a pleasure for Pp to write something that he finds is so appreciated. He must keep looking for the leads you offer up.

It has also been great to see phlebas write these two pieces with differing interpretations on the same theme.
I truly love this. I love when creativity breeds creativity. The beat response to a story is another story! :)

I feel a connection to this girl, I feel the insecurity and embarrassment she must feel being unclothed publically for the first time in her young life, the stretch marks and folds and tummy and thighs out for the world to see...! Then of course her female sexuality and sensuality is exposed and displayed...yet in a way she is freed. She is herself, no cover even if she wanted (which initially and throughout she obviously does) so she (I) is (am) free to writhe, to pleasure myself in this double cornu, to moan and get wet and shake and feel oh so feminine and desirable.... <3
 
I truly love this. I love when creativity breeds creativity. The beat response to a story is another story! :)

I feel a connection to this girl, I feel the insecurity and embarrassment she must feel being unclothed publically for the first time in her young life, the stretch marks and folds and tummy and thighs out for the world to see...! Then of course her female sexuality and sensuality is exposed and displayed...yet in a way she is freed. She is herself, no cover even if she wanted (which initially and throughout she obviously does) so she (I) is (am) free to writhe, to pleasure myself in this double cornu, to moan and get wet and shake and feel oh so feminine and desirable.... <3

Yes, oh yes! You get it Deborah. You get it. The liberation of crucifixion, that contradiction of freedom through bondage and helplessness, of pleasure through humiliation and exposure.
The extreme femininity of a woman on a cross, dancing naked for our pleasure, and of course for her own. Every woman is beautiful on the cross.
And the double cornu, pressing your intimate parts, the hard wood stretching you, rubbing you, penetrating ever deeper. It brings shame, it brings pleasure, and it shouts to the world "I am a woman! I can take this! I WANT this!"
How can we not be aroused by this, Olivia/Deborah?
 
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