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Rosie's Crucifixion

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thehangingtree said:
Part 2

Rosie’s thoughts…

I can’t see the clock tower from the cross but its bell tolls only once. I have been crucified for an hour; just eleven more to go. I can make it. I wonder what I look like. The cross is painful but I expected that even if I didn’t know what the pain would feel like. What bothers me more is the inability to move. My nose itched since before I was raised and it still does. I can’t even reach my bicep to rub it against much less scratch it!

I had talked with Professor Barbaria Moore before I signed up for the contest as she is the foremost expert on female crucifixion, rivaled only by Messaline who has been crucified in more places.

(Ed. note: Astute readers of the Crux Forums would note that by all logic Prof. Moore should be quite dead by now. You must remember she has not been executed in this thread!)

I asked should I eat the morning of my crucifixion. She said I would need my strength and advised me to do so if I were selected and to drink as much water as I could.

‘But what if I would need to… you know… purge?’ I asked. She said ‘Rosanne, you are a prisoner of the cross. It is both unforgiving and relentless in its torture of you. But it is also if not aware it is quiet about what you do while you are in its care. You will resist the urge to purge as you say it but you won’t be able to for twelve hours. Don’t waste the energy trying to hold it back.’

What seemed like sage advice haunted me. I desperately need to use the bathroom yet the cross will not let go of my arms and legs. I don’t like using public restrooms and I am not about to crap with a thousand people watching me. Maybe a fart will ease the pressure.

DAMN… That had to echo off the next hill!!! And damn if my ass isn’t wet! I will not take a shit before this crowd!
And then he is back. I forget what he told me his name is but I remember the ‘Rodent’ thing.
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“How are you doing, Rosie?” he asks as he snaps a series of pictures in rapid succession.

“I’ve had better days” I reply most honestly. “I would appreciate if you didn’t take any more pictures.”

“You already gave your permission and I have already sold the rights.”

I hear the shutter click again and again. I am so screwed. The clock tower marks two o’clock. I remember the professor’s words:
“It is a simple thing- just two pieces of wood and few lengths of rope- that becomes your prison and tormentor. It presents you to the crowd which watches you with varying degrees of attention from intense to indifference. Some will lust your naked body and others mock it. Some will look on wondering what it is like to be you and others will look on knowingly having tried the cross themselves, though I doubt anyone will have done for as many hours as you will.

“People will come and go as they wish. They will use the restroom, get food and drink. They will be in no hurry. You will be there when they return. The cross will not let you go. You are free to look about but the scenery will not change. You are free to breathe yet each breath that sustains you becomes more laborious than the last one. If you need to relieve yourself you may but within the confines of your cross. People will come and go but the pain never leaves. It is with you the whole time.

“Be sure you want to do this, Rosanne, before you sign up for the contest.”
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I thought I was sure. I am not now but the cross will not let me go.

Tree

Yeah, that Rodent is a true gentleman....
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The image of Rosie hanging naked on her cross, with her whole life narrowed down to the extent of her movements on the cross is so incredibly erotic I cannot describe it!!! Tree, you hit all of my fantasy buttons with this...the helplessness, the nakedness, the visibility, the pain of hanging, the duration, the whole damn public nature of crucifixion, the inevitability of having to perform bodily functions form the cross, the boredom of hanging (what do I do with all this free time???), and the watching of daily life proceed around me as I hang. Egad man!!!...you've completely entranced me!!!! This is brilliant writing! I'm so excited, sooooo turned on!!!!!!!! Aaaaargh!!!
 
Rosie would survive the twelve hours on the cross. She was surprised the mental torture of the cross was harder on her than the physical pain. One would think Rosie would never want to see the hill where she was crucified. Instead she would visit the hill where her empty cross still stood. She would undress and imagine she was back on the cross. In her mind she was its spurred lover. It took her body and mind for twelve hours then left her to just live her life without it.

She had her fingers stroking her pussy angrily taunting the cross to deny her the ability to do so. Rosie heard something and spun to look.
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Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the camera aimed at her. She huffed “What are you doing here?”

“The same could be asked of you” Mr. Rodent replied. “Did you like the pictures?"

“They were very good” Rosie conceded. She looked at the cross and added “but it not the same as being there.”

“You enjoyed being crucified?” a surprised Mr. Rodent asked.

Rosie stared at the cross. “I hated every moment of it. But I need to one with it. It took my mind. It took my soul. I need it to take me.”

The end…

For this thread…

Tree

...we will see Rosie again, but Tree promised a short story...
 
thehangingtree said:
as requested...

PART 3

Rosie continues…

Everything Professor Moore told me was right and then some. The pain is always with me and though after the shock when I was first raised I thought it would be worse. None the less it is there and constant. The ropes biting my wrists and ankles remind me the cross is my master and I will not leave the wood until it surrenders me. I can breathe but when I cough or worse yet sneeze my chest feels like it will be torn in two. My arms are spread too wide to allow me to rest my head on them. The stipe won’t let me tilt it back and if I let it hang forward my dry throat almost closes and my nose runs. Sweat burns my eyes and but there is nothing I can do about it. The cross forbids it.

A couple walks up to the base of the cross. The woman says watching me has made her horny and her boyfriend is going to help her take care of that. She says they will be back in an hour or so adding “Don’t go anywhere!”
“Fuck off” I croak. My throat is so dry!
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The clock tower tolls four bells. I’m a third through this. I have piss and purge my bowels. Every time I watch someone leave and go to the porta-potties my need seems to grow. The cross reminds me of my plight. I need relief at the same time my belly growls in hunger and my throat dries. If I could I would pick the dry snot from my nose right in front the thousand watching me.

Some guys sitting near the cross keep pulling drinks from a cooler. One looks up at me and asks if I am thirsty. I nod yes. He pulls off his sweaty tee shirt and ties it on the end of a pole. Then he opens his fly and pisses on it. He puts his cock back in his jeans and holds the wet shirt up to my mouth. Laughing he says “If you want water you have to prove how thirty you are.”

I am that thirsty and shameless suck on his soiled shirt. He is true to his word, sort of, and pours water from the cooler on the shirt as it lay on the dirt. He hoists the wet, muddy, cold and soiled shirt back up to my mouth. I contort my neck so I can tilt my head back a bit and greedily take all the liquid I can get from it! Those close enough to see all that is going on and cheer and laugh while Mr. Rodent snaps pictures.

After the laughter dies down I realize the bell of the clock town is ringing. My mind paraphrases Clint Eastwood and tells me in all the excitement if forgot if it rang five times or six. I pray it is six; I don’t think I will last seven more hours here.

I look down my body… or is it??? I look down my body mounted on the cross. No! What are the words? What is the word? It is not mine! If it were I would be gone by now. The cross has me! I am the living part of the cross and I want off!
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They are back… the couple that mocked me. They do again! She tells me she had great sex with her boyfriend and used the bathroom to relieve herself. She asks if I had. I push my hips out from the cross and manage let a stream of piss that splatters on bitch’s feet and ankles. It is small protest but the best I can do.

Emptying my bladder relieved my immediate need to purge my bowels but I have several new issues. First clouds are moving in and the breeze is picking up. I don’t think it has cooled down that much but goose bumps cover my flesh and I begin to shiver. Second I am getting weaker and it getting harder to push up with my legs to give some relief to my arms. When I do manage to push up the ropes binding my ankles to the cross slips a bit down the cross. I try to pull my ankles up but the rope doesn’t want to follow. Besides when I try to pull up the pain in my shoulders becomes more than I can bear.
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I push up one more time when I feel the cross shudder and my feet and ass slide down the stipe! I am now stretched against the cross with the only movement the cross allows me is a slight twist of my hips and my head! The clock tower bell tolls again but I forget to count how many times.
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Panic that Rosie hadn’t felt since she was first raised swept through her again. She was now virtually immobilized against the cross. The wind was picking up and the distant thunder wasn’t so distant anymore. Flashes of lightning lit up the lowering clouds. The temperature dropped from the mid-70s to the mid-60s and a fine mist began to thin the crowd. The bell she had not counted had signaled it was eight o’clock. The mist became a light rain and more let the hill Rosie hung crucified on.

The chill joined with Rosie’s tautly-stretched body to conspire her to cramp and wet stool squeezed past her buns and ran down the back and inside of her thighs. Rosie began to cry.
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The lightning increased in frequency with the thunder following nearly instantly. By 9 PM Rosie hung on the cross accompanied only by the single camera of RR Entertainment. At 10 the owner of the spot light that illuminated Rosie and the cross shut it off and carted it away. Rosie would hang the last two hours in the dark, pray the ordeal would end even if was by being struck by lightning…
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Tree
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prof.jpg Taught that Rosie everything she knows.
 
thehangingtree said:
...fucking cat... when do I get back in...

...was the story good???
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Tree, it was powerful and effective, and the scenario was very attractive, a young woman giving herself over to such an intense experience, and all the more effective for being compact. She lived the ordel, the pain and degredation of the cross, and we watched her endure it, with the added spice that she would eventually come down and go back to living among these people, the people who had witnessed and indeed inflicted that ordeal on her.
Nice work :)
 
Took me a while to get round to reading this but great work Tree :clapping:

You may not feel that short stories are your oeuvre (Stop speaking French at him, he means your normal way of doing things Tree- Leo)but the discipline paid off in spades here, very tightly plotted and intense.
 
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