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Debbie travels
- Thread starter thehangingtree
- Start date
And now you have nothing to do but talk while you die...First time he has ever listened to me.
This could take a while...
Well, I might, I am a Chronicler....
As the cross is lifted I feel my backside slide down the stipe. I cannot see the base of the cross as it begins to slip into the hole but feel the cross vibrate as it begins to fall. I am about to be crucified!
Well, Debbie, you are now officially recognised as a crucified woman. Congratulations!
Mr Tree, Sir, I salute you!
My work is done... let's hit the bar!Well, I might, I am a Chronicler....
Well, Debbie, you are now officially recognised as a crucified woman. Congratulations!
Mr Tree, Sir, I salute you!
My deepest desire has been fulfilled. I am crucified naked to hang from this cross until I die. I, like the others with me, are displayed before a mob that has no concern for who I am or why I am here. There is no sign on any cross revealing who we are or what we have done. There is no means to comfort myself. There is no way to hide from my public disgrace. Pain changes but never leaves or dissipates. Pain and my cross are with me until I am done suffering. I have no idea how long from now that will be.
I have read that societies have used this method of execution throughout the ages. Something tells me I have seen other women crucified. Somehow I needed to feel this torment and now I do.
It is nothing what I expected. I bleed but not enough to kill me soon. I breathe but it is work now. People I would never notice in day to day life notice me and comment lewdly about my stretched body and sometimes make remarks to me. My mind is a bit overwhelmed and I forget to answer.
It has been a few hours (I guess) since I was raised. No one knows I am the daughter of Don Diamante or so I think. Some porters pull up a lawn table and chairs and two women are seated. I recognize the brunette. She is Professor Moore from the UVM. The blonde speaks with a heavy French accent and I gather her name is Messaline. She is the purveyor of the crosses we hang from.
-Debbie
Barb and Messa wait for their drinks while discussing Debbie and her ‘situation’. Barb seems unconvinced that Messa’s Premium French Crucifixion Wood™ makes Debbie’s execution any better or worse.
Messa is undeterred and insists “Barbara you must consider how much better the condemned wench looks on that cross than on some horrible Arkansas pine.”
“I guess she does but the idea is to kill her. Does it matter what she looks like?”
Messa huffs and asks “Do you buy you dress clothes at K-Mart, Barbara?”
There is a long silent pause.
I guess Messa’s point is made.
Evening is approaching. I have learned the torment of crucifixion. Functions I have done as a free woman are prohibited by the spikes holding me to the cross. Snot runs from my nose and I cannot wipe it. Sweat burns my eyes and I cannot purge it. I hang naked before strangers who are entertained by my so-called dance to find comfort. Muscles and joints I never noticed before cry in agony.
There are other things beyond my control. There are no ‘bathroom breaks’ so when I purge I do so before the crowd. I am horrified as they cheer my shameful acts. There are no toiletries to use. I reek of filth and sweat and cannot remember what my perfumes’ scents were.
I am not the daughter of Don Diamante. I am like the others on this damn hill just one of many condemned women crucified to die slowly for my crime.
I don’t think the comfort of death is coming to visit me any time soon…
-Debbie
Tree
I have read that societies have used this method of execution throughout the ages. Something tells me I have seen other women crucified. Somehow I needed to feel this torment and now I do.
It is nothing what I expected. I bleed but not enough to kill me soon. I breathe but it is work now. People I would never notice in day to day life notice me and comment lewdly about my stretched body and sometimes make remarks to me. My mind is a bit overwhelmed and I forget to answer.
It has been a few hours (I guess) since I was raised. No one knows I am the daughter of Don Diamante or so I think. Some porters pull up a lawn table and chairs and two women are seated. I recognize the brunette. She is Professor Moore from the UVM. The blonde speaks with a heavy French accent and I gather her name is Messaline. She is the purveyor of the crosses we hang from.
-Debbie
Barb and Messa wait for their drinks while discussing Debbie and her ‘situation’. Barb seems unconvinced that Messa’s Premium French Crucifixion Wood™ makes Debbie’s execution any better or worse.
Messa is undeterred and insists “Barbara you must consider how much better the condemned wench looks on that cross than on some horrible Arkansas pine.”
“I guess she does but the idea is to kill her. Does it matter what she looks like?”
Messa huffs and asks “Do you buy you dress clothes at K-Mart, Barbara?”
There is a long silent pause.
I guess Messa’s point is made.
Evening is approaching. I have learned the torment of crucifixion. Functions I have done as a free woman are prohibited by the spikes holding me to the cross. Snot runs from my nose and I cannot wipe it. Sweat burns my eyes and I cannot purge it. I hang naked before strangers who are entertained by my so-called dance to find comfort. Muscles and joints I never noticed before cry in agony.
There are other things beyond my control. There are no ‘bathroom breaks’ so when I purge I do so before the crowd. I am horrified as they cheer my shameful acts. There are no toiletries to use. I reek of filth and sweat and cannot remember what my perfumes’ scents were.
I am not the daughter of Don Diamante. I am like the others on this damn hill just one of many condemned women crucified to die slowly for my crime.
I don’t think the comfort of death is coming to visit me any time soon…
-Debbie
Tree
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Well no Messa, I don't shop K-Mart for clothes .... I get all mine on-line from NailusMartyrs Fashion Boutique. Where do you get yours? L’Armée du salut?
And we know what you’re looking at! Don’t stare. It’s not nice.
I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with'T'
Evening is here. There is no respite from my torture of the cross. There are new sensations- no, torments- I suffer. Insects are crawling in my warm wet orifices and I can do nothing to shoo them. I can only feel them move where I cannot touch. Thirst and hunger have long joined the pain of my stretched body. I beg for water but receive none.
The sun is fading behind me. The mob thins out and soon I will hang from the cross in the darkness of night.
It is sometime in the night when I cry out to save me from this awful cross.
…I am in Jerusalem of Norwest Arkansaw on my father’s portico looking up at the women crucified on Golgotha beyond the wall of the city. My father Wraggulus says to me “Their suffering excites you, Deborah.”
“It intrigues me” I admit without mentioning my inner thighs are wet from my womanhood oozing.
“You want to experience what they are, don’t you, my daughter?”
“As I said crucifixion interests me but you have told me it is forbidden for me to try the cross” I reply again not mentioning when I get to my chamber I will take care of the arousal burning my loins.
“You indeed are not allowed to ‘try’ the cross, Deborah, but that does not keep you from experiencing your death by crucifixion. Tomorrow you shall be tried for conspiring to murder you stepmother Joan. If you are found guilty you will be condemned to death on a cross” he says before calling “Guards, take this wench to tower to be held for trial.”
So I never make it to my chambers. I am locked in a cell high in the tower. My gown is stripped from me and chains replace it. I know enough how trials work here. I am already guilty in his court and I will appear only to hear the verdict and my condemnation. I walk to the barred window and look at Golgotha where the seven women are dying on their crosses. I will be there before tomorrow is done!
It is midmorning when I am brought before the court. I am brought naked before the court. My father scowls at me noting to his sergeant in arms how worthy I will look nailed to a cross. He turns to the elders and says “It is with heavy heart I must inform you the court has found my daughter guilty of plotting the murder of my wife.”
There is a collective well-rehearsed gasp from the elders but my father admonishes “I have reviewed the evidence and have found the court has done a fair and just task in finding this verdict. I insist you do your task as well as the court! You may find her sentence to bear mercy on my dau…”
“CRUCIFY HER” one calls out and he is quickly joined in chant demanding my death on a cross.
Father raises his hands and says “Dear elders, I have heard you. Dorothy Wraggulus you shall be crucified this afternoon and hang from your cross until you are dead!”
“You cannot let this happen” I beg.
I know such a plea is empty words. In hours I will be on Golgotha nailed to cross hanging from its wood waiting for death to save me from pain I don’t even know. By noon I have been flogged, crowned with thorns, and handed the cross I will die on to carry to Golgotha.
The route is lined with jeering citizens mocking my trek to the hill. Many of the men are ones I have slept with. They show no compassion for me.
At the top of the hill I am violently mounted over the cross and am nailed to it!
It doesn’t take long to raise me on the cross. I hang from the wood mercilessly nailed. My only task is to die here.
-Debbie
So this concludes our tale of the fall of Deborah. I would say it is a travesty of justice but must admit Debbie has been displayed quite nicely throughout this story. One must look on the bright side of such a sorrowful event…
Tree
The sun is fading behind me. The mob thins out and soon I will hang from the cross in the darkness of night.
It is sometime in the night when I cry out to save me from this awful cross.
…I am in Jerusalem of Norwest Arkansaw on my father’s portico looking up at the women crucified on Golgotha beyond the wall of the city. My father Wraggulus says to me “Their suffering excites you, Deborah.”
“It intrigues me” I admit without mentioning my inner thighs are wet from my womanhood oozing.
“You want to experience what they are, don’t you, my daughter?”
“As I said crucifixion interests me but you have told me it is forbidden for me to try the cross” I reply again not mentioning when I get to my chamber I will take care of the arousal burning my loins.
“You indeed are not allowed to ‘try’ the cross, Deborah, but that does not keep you from experiencing your death by crucifixion. Tomorrow you shall be tried for conspiring to murder you stepmother Joan. If you are found guilty you will be condemned to death on a cross” he says before calling “Guards, take this wench to tower to be held for trial.”
So I never make it to my chambers. I am locked in a cell high in the tower. My gown is stripped from me and chains replace it. I know enough how trials work here. I am already guilty in his court and I will appear only to hear the verdict and my condemnation. I walk to the barred window and look at Golgotha where the seven women are dying on their crosses. I will be there before tomorrow is done!
It is midmorning when I am brought before the court. I am brought naked before the court. My father scowls at me noting to his sergeant in arms how worthy I will look nailed to a cross. He turns to the elders and says “It is with heavy heart I must inform you the court has found my daughter guilty of plotting the murder of my wife.”
There is a collective well-rehearsed gasp from the elders but my father admonishes “I have reviewed the evidence and have found the court has done a fair and just task in finding this verdict. I insist you do your task as well as the court! You may find her sentence to bear mercy on my dau…”
“CRUCIFY HER” one calls out and he is quickly joined in chant demanding my death on a cross.
Father raises his hands and says “Dear elders, I have heard you. Dorothy Wraggulus you shall be crucified this afternoon and hang from your cross until you are dead!”
“You cannot let this happen” I beg.
I know such a plea is empty words. In hours I will be on Golgotha nailed to cross hanging from its wood waiting for death to save me from pain I don’t even know. By noon I have been flogged, crowned with thorns, and handed the cross I will die on to carry to Golgotha.
The route is lined with jeering citizens mocking my trek to the hill. Many of the men are ones I have slept with. They show no compassion for me.
At the top of the hill I am violently mounted over the cross and am nailed to it!
It doesn’t take long to raise me on the cross. I hang from the wood mercilessly nailed. My only task is to die here.
-Debbie
So this concludes our tale of the fall of Deborah. I would say it is a travesty of justice but must admit Debbie has been displayed quite nicely throughout this story. One must look on the bright side of such a sorrowful event…
Tree
One must indeed!
And nice to see Tree's fingers flowing so fluently over the keyboard again!
Thank you, Wragg. I had a great cast of characters and Ms. Debbie!One must indeed!
And nice to see Tree's fingers flowing so fluently over the keyboard again!
This one will go down in CF annals as a great Tree story. Well done, Tree. Sorry about the ending, Debbie.
She will have to learn to get over it...
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Oh ! Are you really thinking that theses clothes are coming from "l'Armée du salut" ?!!!
"Channel" of course !
View attachment 559004 Oh ! Are you really thinking that theses clothes are coming from "l'Armée du salut" ?!!!
"Channel" of course !
View attachment 559005
I do like those designer sunglasses!
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Mmmmm ! Yes , it's starting to become annoying and foul , there ... If I had not some commitment towards Tree , viewing that I sell to him my Premium French Crucifixion Wood , I'll not come to contemplate those dirty girls, hanging on this hill !Fortunately, Tree does well the things : we've a nice place for having a little feast , between smart people ...
D
Debbie30
Guest
At the top of the hill I am violently mounted over the cross and am nailed to it!
It doesn’t take long to raise me on the cross. I hang from the wood mercilessly nailed. My only task is to die here.
-Debbie
So this concludes our tale of the fall of Deborah. I would say it is a travesty of justice but must admit Debbie has been displayed quite nicely throughout this story. One must look on the bright side of such a sorrowful event…
Tree
Your plan from the start was to display me and make me suffer for the enjoyment of you and others. It's nice to know you liked what you saw.
Thanks Tree for making me a true crux girl. Well done!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!