8.
Everything turned into a bit of a blur. They sat me down, still filthy, and I thought “I’ve messed up their cross”. They took all those horrible metal things off my neck and wrists, and I remember wanting to stretch my arms after being restrained for so long, but they were pulled into these fixtures. Then the top of the clamp was hinged down, I could see a spike sticking up from the top. One of the men knelt beside my left wrist and hit the spike with a large hammer. Clang, clang, clang. THE PAIN!!. I know my body jerked violently, which increased the pain. Then they did the other wrist. Then my knees were bent, my feet put into clamps and pain in both feet after the hammer blows.
The Tittyloss was taken from my chest, fastened above my head. I still couldn’t read it. One of the guards gently brushed the sticky hair from my jammy face and tucked it behind my ears, and I had a flashback to when Peter used to do that for me. Will I even see Peter again? With a jerky start the cross raised really high, and I got my first clue about strain on my arms. I hadn’t realised you don’t just stand there.
Since I was up high, I thought I would have no crowd bother, but as soon as it was vertical the cross sunk into the ground. My face was level with mum and dad’s. “What were you playing at, you silly girl? You’ve disgraced your dad and me, on display like this. At least you could close your legs, have a bit of decency. And you stink to high heaven.”
I hadn’t realised that my legs were wide apart. The pain of the nails, the strain on my arms, were filling my brain. I moved my knees together. They only moved an inch. The way my feet were fasted into the fittings on the upright meant I just couldn’t close them. I realised now what humiliation meant. Dad didn’t say a word. His eyes didn’t leave my pussy.
Mum walked away “And don’t you think you can just come home after this as if nothing has happened, we’re thoroughly ashamed of you. You’re on your own now.” At least she thinks I might still be alive. Dad turns to walk away with her, one finger sliding up my slit and giving my clit a little squeeze. The perv. Was that his idea of a loving gesture?
With mum and dad out the way, my so-called friends from the village started mauling me about, pulling and twisting my nipples, fingering me, seeing how many fingers would go in. Darren, who’d fancied me before Peter, but I wasn’t interested, managed to get a grip on my short trimmed pubic hair and pulled some out, grinning. He always was a stupid twat.
I wondered when the first rape would come. Maybe after a pint or two Darren would come back, but I didn’t know how many men would dare show their dicks in public. My legs were now in pain. Someone read out the Tittyloss above my head “46hours 23minutes remaining”. Abigale gave me an almighty slap across the face, then punched my left tit. “That’s for stealing Peter from me” . I didn’t think her and Peter were ever an item, just wishful thinking on her part. She lined up her fist to punch my right tit, but a guard stopped her. “That much force could damage her, we’ll give her a rest now”, and the cross rose up high.
This time a small ‘seat’ emerged from the upright, jabbing into my bum until I worked out if I lifted myself up a bit I could sit on it. I couldn’t see it, but it felt thin and round. It took some of the weight off my arms which was a relief.
I was alone and my ‘friends’ went to the pubs.
I got cramp in my right calf. I just want to wriggle the leg round a bit, rub the muscle, fucking hell with feet and arms nailed like this I can’t do the simplest things to help myself, I shout to the guard below “Cramp, rub my leg please” he looks up, smiles, gives me two fingers and looks at my pussy. I try to give him two fingers back but my hands don’t seem to work anymore, my God, have the nails destroyed them already. As the cramp pain eased a little I started to understand how a whole body can hurt.
Lots of laughter and insults when the pubs threw out, and down I came, seat disappearing. More fingers, probing, twisting. There’s the girl with the cucumber. My hair had flopped back over my face when I was squirming with cramp so she pulls it aside and gives me a lovely kiss. I was still thinking “that was surprisingly nice” when she pushes the cucumber into me. Fucks it a few times, then gives one of the blokes she’s with an even longer kiss, and they all walk away, laughing. A new source of pain. Sod the humiliation now.
A lone man walks to the guard, and has a few words with him. I don’t recognise him, but he pulls the cucumber out and licks it, then takes his dick out, rubs it in my slit till it’s hard, gets it in, and does a few thrusts. The angle feels awkward to me, no pleasure at all. I feel him come. Not exactly the rape of my fantasies. He walks way, the cross goes up, I drip. I take a piss. Why didn’t I think of pissing on that bloke?
IT IS SO BORING. I won’t say I got used to the pain, it was changing, just gets a lot worse, then slightly better, then a lot worse again over time. There’s nothing to do but move and twist. The seat hurts now. I don’t even think about the moving, my body just wants to. Nothing is worth thinking about. I mean, my passion is painting wild flowers. What the hell’s the point of thinking about that in this situation. And even if I survive, will I hold a paintbrush again?
And no, you can’t sleep on the cross.
(tbc)