Fronto sighs quietly to himself. His is not an easy job, but he shoulders it with a patrician sense of duty. He was going to have a long afternoon.
Poor Fronto. What a shame, I'm sure there are a thousand places he'd rather be
Fronto sighs quietly to himself. His is not an easy job, but he shoulders it with a patrician sense of duty. He was going to have a long afternoon.
I caught that as well. I definitely could have been clearer and made it so it fit chronologically...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.
Wouldn't be too concerned Deborah. It will be easy to edit up as you need and make a pdf at the end if you want.I caught that as well. I definitely could have been clearer and made it so it fit chronologically...
Now she would be doubly fucked by this tree of death -Phlebas
Tree does not fuck with forked cock!!!!
Tree
could be closy isn't?Perhaps Pp could pay our lady Olivia a visit?
Uh oh! D: This is gonna hurt.. !
Two interesting variations phlebas. Pp enjoyed the first and now has a second interpretation. He hopes Deborah enjoys both too.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.
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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.
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.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
I truly love this. I love when creativity breeds creativity. The beat response to a story is another story!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