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Maria On The Cross

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Eulalia said:
They looked up at me. Some grinned, others looked serious. Maria smiled conspiratorially. She pulled the stool away.

My heart was beating like a steam hammer, I felt as if it would bounce my head off. Tied! I was really and truly tied up! What a feeling! I pulled tentatively at the cords that held me. They were so firmly knotted I had no chance of freeing myself. I was at the mercy of my girlfriends, exposed naked. Only now was that really clear to me, I hedn’t even the smallest scrap of fabric on the body. There are those bikinis that comprise only thin strings and tiny scraps of fabric, I’ve gone one, dark Blue, it really only covers just the essentials, but it does conceal them. Here and now, nothing’s hidden, before the eyes of my classmates I’m revealed, naked.

I felt shame but, strangely enough, excitement. I was, so to speak, being publicly exhibited and I was enjoying it, even though I was ashamed. It was deeply confusing to me. I was naked, and I wasliking it, at the same time I was feeling ashamed. But it was especially nice. But Iwas only tied – the thought of chains made me a bit scared. Where did that idea come from? Has it come into our room from next door? Heavens, supposing anyone saw me like that!

I looked down at my girlfriends. Yes, down, I was hanging a few feet above them, I held an elevated position, so they could see me better, look at me, stare at me. They were watching and how! Interested glances darted across my naked skin like nimble mice, running from head to toe, up and down my body up and along my limbs. I must be offering a very attractive sight, they’re enjoying the spectacle!

I felt myself blushing, I couldn’t prevent it. At the same time, I felt totally good, I felt great. How often in the past have I dreamed of being tied up helplessly, now it’s become a reality. I was bound naked, nude. I was the only one, they down there, looked up at me with so much interest, were wearing jeans and T-shirts, or skirts and blouses. One detail I noticed - they were all barefoot. Like me, I thought, and felt a laugh rising up in me. Don’t they say that pop singers on the stage take off the shoes because bare feet are a symbolic form of nakedness? So my girlfriends were symbolically naked too, while I’m presenting a symbol of nakedness, or something like that?

I tried the bondage again, moved about on the cross. I hadn’t got much room for manoeuvre. I was amazed, I could move my head, I was able to press on my knees and push myself a little way up – by doing this, the strong strain was taken from my outstretched arms - a bit at least. When I tugged on my wrist-bonds and stretched my legs, I could lift my pelvis away from the upright and push forwards a little, and I could easily move my hips to left and right. But I couldn’t do more. All that remained possible for me was a kind of limited, dancing movement. I was dancing slowly on the cross.

Down there they were staring. My movements had an erotic, arousing effect on them, that was clear to me. They aroused me too, little by little. I felt ashamed, a crazy feeling of chaos was raging in my head. My arms were beginning to ache, but instead of whining about the pain, I was enjoying it. I was proud to stay silent. Of course it wasn’t really hurting, not yet. But I could imagine that it would be quite uncomfortable after a while. Could I stand an hour without complaining? Would I be begging my friends to let me down? What if they ignored my request? If they just left me hanging - in the truest sense of that phrase?

I swallowed. I was a captive. I was helpless, at their mercy. If they decided not to release me, I had to stay on the cross, whether I wanted to or not. A thought flashed through my brain. I imagined being on the cross all night long, I imagined how I’d be squirming on the ropes, how everything would be hurting, how I’d be defeated - utterly. The pain would be so bad, I’d be suffering such agonies, I’d be begging, but no-one would listen to me. The thought excited me beyond measure, I began to tingle in my pussy.
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I'm tingling all over! :)
 
Eulalia said:
I swallowed. I was a captive. I was helpless, at their mercy. If they decided not to release me, I had to stay on the cross, whether I wanted to or not. A thought flashed through my brain. I imagined being on the cross all night long, I imagined how I’d be squirming on the ropes, how everything would be hurting, how I’d be defeated - utterly. The pain would be so bad, I’d be suffering such agonies, I’d be begging, but no-one would listen to me. The thought excited me beyond measure, I began to tingle in my pussy.
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Pp will never, ever be cured of his addiction to Doro and Lisette but Steffi is his methadone now and becoming part of hs daily ritual.
 
messaline said:
Both are often frequent ... View attachment 207937 :duke:........... Oooooops ! View attachment 207938 :peep:
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Ha ha Messa. The two young women remind Pp about an old joke where two young female students are found sunbathing nude by people who might recognise them. One tried desparately to preserve her modesty by trying to cover her breasts and shaven sex while running away. The other simply covered her face and walked away proudly.
 
That story originated long ago in Oxford, at Parsons' Pleasure, a secluded spot on the R Cherwell,
where male members of the university were wont to bathe in the nude.
Ladies were supposed to leave punts and use a well-fenced pathway
while their men-friends punted through that stretch.
But sometimes they just hid down in the bottom of the punt.

One sunny afternoon, three heads of houses (college principals)
were bathing, including Maurice Bowra, flamboyant and notoriously gay Warden of Wadham.
As a punt passed them, girlish giggling was heard, and they swiftly grabbed their towels.
Two of them hid their privates, but Bowra covered his head.

When the crisis had passed, his colleagues enquired why he had done this, he replied,
"Gentlemen, I, at least, am best known in the university by my face!"
 
I relaxed on the cross, flirting with the wood like a lazy dancer. I saw Mary looking up at me, her eyes were wide and shining – she knew what I was feeling, for sure. The others too? I can see your eyes wandering over me. Sophie, sandy-haired Sophie with your snub nose and cheeky freckles who almost always ran around in the school-yard barefoot in summer-time during the midday break, Sophie with your big mouth and your big heart – you enjoyed being tied up, and you enjoyed seeing me being tied to the cross, I know!

And the others? Delicate Daniela with your good grades and your gentle nature. Sporty Janina, small and wiry, fair-to-middling student. She was looking up at me – quiet and interested. Oh yes, these two have got to be tied up as well.

And Natalie, deep blonde Natalie, always so unobtrusive, never saying much. Even Natalie's eyes signalled to me that she liked what she saw. I was sure that Natalie wanted to be in my place. Are all girls like this? Are we all the same? Do we all have the same secret desires? Crazy world! Why have we never talked about it? We chatter all the time about everything, especially about boys. Maybe guys were the main theme because we were in a girls' school. But why had we never had conversations about bondage? Too embarrassing?

I looked down at the five girls, all barefoot, standing in a semicircle in front of the cross, how they were gazing at me! Oh man! Whyever didn’t we have the idea of talking about ropes and shackles? For a long time we’ve had plenty of opportunities for some wild games. At school there were places where you could play with ropes – secret places...

And supposing it wasn’t secret? If it were public? My head went off to the cinema. Crosses in the middle of the schoolyard. Girls who hadn’t done their homework getting their punishment during the midday break on these crosses. There was also "torture stakes", where girls would be tied standing upright, bending their arms back to be tied at the wrists. And on the wall of the school building there’d be iron rings screwed in, where you could chain girls - naked and spread open like an X, made to stand against the wall. What an idea!
 
Eulalia said:
That story originated long ago in Oxford, at Parsons' Pleasure, a secluded spot on the R Cherwell,
where male members of the university were wont to bathe in the nude.
Ladies were supposed to leave punts and use a well-fenced pathway
while their men-friends punted through that stretch.
But sometimes they just hid down in the bottom of the punt.

One sunny afternoon, three heads of houses (college principals)
were bathing, including Maurice Bowra, flamboyant and notoriously gay Warden of Wadham.
As a punt passed them, girlish giggling was heard, and they swiftly grabbed their towels.
Two of them hid their privates, but Bowra covered his head.

When the crisis had passed, his colleagues enquired why he had done this, he replied,
"Gentlemen, I, at least, am best known in the university by my face!"
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;)
 
Eulalia said:
And supposing it wasn’t secret? If it were public? My head went off to the cinema. Crosses in the middle of the schoolyard. Girls who hadn’t done their homework getting their punishment during the midday break on these crosses. There was also "torture stakes", where girls would be tied standing upright, bending their arms back to be tied at the wrists. And on the wall of the school building there’d be iron rings screwed in, where you could chain girls - naked and spread open like an X, made to stand against the wall. What an idea!
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Pp has gone into Steffi's cinema with her this morning Eulalia. :devil:
 
Eulalia said:
And supposing it wasn’t secret? If it were public? My head went off to the cinema. Crosses in the middle of the schoolyard. Girls who hadn’t done their homework getting their punishment during the midday break on these crosses. There was also "torture stakes", where girls would be tied standing upright, bending their arms back to be tied at the wrists. And on the wall of the school building there’d be iron rings screwed in, where you could chain girls - naked and spread open like an X, made to stand against the wall. What an idea!
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I too have dreamed of that place :D Seniors only, of course. Imagine a scale of punishments, with naked crucifixion for the over 18s at teh top of the list.

The bit about being chained against the wall reminded me of Tomkinson's Schooldays, where junior boys were nailed to the wall on St Tadgers Day.
It's worth quoting the Headmaster, he fits right in here:
Headmaster: [leading a school prayer] Oh Lord, we give thee humble and hearty thanks for this, thy gift of discipline, knowing that it is only through the constraints of others that we come to know ourselves, and only through true misery can we find true contentment.
 
phlebas said:
I too have dreamed of that place :D Seniors only, of course. Imagine a scale of punishments, with naked crucifixion for the over 18s at teh top of the list.

The bit about being chained against the wall reminded me of Tomkinson's Schooldays, where junior boys were nailed to the wall on St Tadgers Day.
It's worth quoting the Headmaster, he fits right in here:
Headmaster: [leading a school prayer] Oh Lord, we give thee humble and hearty thanks for this, thy gift of discipline, knowing that it is only through the constraints of others that we come to know ourselves, and only through true misery can we find true contentment.
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Ahhhh ha ha ha. Palin at Graybridge and the fun that was Ripping Yarns. Though the school bully with the fags, grog and Filipino tart detracted somewhat from the ideal of true misery.
 
Primus pilus said:
Ahhhh ha ha ha. Palin at Graybridge and the fun that was Ripping Yarns. Though the school bully with the fags, grog and Filipino tart detracted somewhat from the ideal of true misery.
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ah, but the School Bully was one of the sources of true misery, he was as much a fixture of the school as the headmaster and the cross country race.
The problem PP is you see yourself in the position of the school bully, not of the suffering oiks :D
 
Sophie smiled up at me. "Behold Saint Stephanie," she declaimed. "Saint Stephanie on the cross, our sacred martyr!"

She was about to spin out the joke when there was a knock on our door. I froze. My stomach clenched with fear. The door was flung open. "Everybody out!" cried Melanie from the room next door, "We’ve all got to go down into the great hall. Come on, giddy-up girls!”

My friends looked at me, then they looked at one another.

"No time," Sophie whispered. "You must stay hanging. Quick! Down to the hall! "

They stormed out, I heard the pounding of their bare feet on the parquet floor. The door slammed. Outside feet pattered and voices could be heard, further and further away. Then I was alone. All alone. Nude. Stark naked. Tied. Helpless and defenseless in bondage – bound on a great wooden cross.

How long will they be away? Ten minutes? Half an hour? Longer? What if they’re having a lecture down there in the hall? Or watching a film? A film usually takes a long time. I pictured the girls sitting in a darkened room and watching a documentary about the historical attractions. After the film there’s a presentation, and then the next film follwos…. lecture, film, lecture, film… until bedtime!

I saw myself hanging helpless on the cross. Wriggle - writhe in agony. I was feeling the tight bondage now. It wan’t hurting – not yet, but that would come. A quarter of an hour perhaps, at most a half, I could stand. Then it would be difficult. What if the girls don’t come back until ten clock? That would mean I had to endure two hours on the cross.

I swallowed. I hadn’t anticipated this. No-one had anticipated it. Calm down, Stephanie, my thoughts said to myself, if it really comes to that one of them will secretly steal out and come up and set you free, they won’t let you soend two hours on the cross – you’ve already done a good half hour, if not longer.

Maria will come. I relaxed. Yes, Maria would come. Suddenly I liked my position again quite a lot, even if the ropes were hurting more and more. I was beginning to enjoy my crucifixion. As long as I was alone, I was able to squirm on the cross to my heart's content, nobody was staring at me, I didn’t need to feel ashamed. I decided to just wait - I couldn’t do anything anyway. Here I was, hanging naked and helpless, tied to a large wooden cross in the girls dormitory, and I just had to accept what was happening to me. Somehow that aroused me greatly. My heart began to beat violently. With a soft moan - half pain half pleasure - I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wood. I was willing to endure it, all of it, everything…
 
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