-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
The Girl With No Name
- Thread starter Eulalia
- Start date
here's what you've been waiting for guys, sorry for the delay!
Daniel turned off the road and followed a metalled drive up to a castle. I recognised the walls, it’s privately owned, and at weekends there are guided tours for visitors. During the week it’s closed or hired out, for meetings or whatever. Today it’s booked, because a girl of eighteen is to be crucified in public in front of forty-two people, said the little voice in my head. You're that girl, Lisette.
When we got out my knees were so soft that Dorothea and Daniel had to support me. We went up a flight of stairs and down a long corridor. I was hardly aware of where we were and what it looked like around me, I was getting such palpitations I was afraid I’d have a heart attack. We stopped before a door, Daniel took out a key and unlocked the it. Behind it was a small room with a table and chairs. On the left wall hung a heavy, dark curtain in front of an opening.
"There’s the way into the castle hall," whispered Doro, "you can peep through the gap between the curtains if you like." She bent down and took off her shoes and socks, then she took off her outer garments and donned a simple tunic made of natural linen fabric. At the seams it was decorated with moss green embroidery. I knew these tunics, in the Middle Ages at festivals girls often wore such simple clothes. I thought she was beautiful. No sooner had she put the striped tunic over her shoulders, my cousin grabbed under it and took off her panties. She grinned at me cheerfully and winked, with a nod in the direction of curtain.
Reluctantly, I went there. I pulled the heavy curtains apart just enough that I could peep into the space behind it with one eye. I saw a huge room with hardwood floors and a coffered ceiling with carvings. On the front wall was a fire in the fireplace. In front of that were tables and benches ready for the feast. People of all ages in medieval garb were all around the room, talking to each other and waiting patiently for my appearance. Forty-two of them.
Oh goddess, I was nervous. Forty-two pairs of eyes that were eager to look at me. All the time! Doro included, forty-three people would be watching, as I went naked to the cross and then had to endure six hours. They’d see every movement of my hand, and observe everything at first hand - my nakedness, my helplessness, my moans, my pain. They would hear when I began to plead for deliverance and when I cried out loud. If I cried, would I be able to suppress it? I didn’t think so, so far the cross had broken my will every time. It was stronger than me. It always defeated me.
Dorothea hugged me from behind and rocked me gently. "No cameras", she whispered, "no-one can make any recording, they’ve all been strictly checked. Only their eyes can see you and their ears hear you and their hearts can sympathize with you, crux-girl." She didn’t use my first name.
Daniel was standing beside us, he could hear her. The gentleman had removed his everyday clothing and clad his bulging beer-belly in a medieval minstrel’s get-up in all sorts of colours. He was smiling kindly at me under a plumed hat.
"Think of New Zealand," Doro whispered in my ear, "if you do do it, we’ll get so much money we’ll be able to fly there for three months, and still have cash to spare. They’ve splashed out for this, I can tell you!” Her right hand slipped into my blouse and caressed my breasts, which were naked under the fabric. My nipples grew instantly hard.
The money didn’t tempt me- honestly, I didn’t care, money wasn’t a consideration, at best it would be a pleasant side-effect. I told Dorothea this, she hugged me, "I know, crux-girl, I know!" She gently massaged my breasts and excited me exceedingly. "You want it!" she whispered. "You've always wanted this. You want to be crucified and suffer before the eyes of strangers. You're scared, but you want it, and how!" Yes, I thought. Yes, I want it. And yes, I'm afraid. And how!
"Take off your clothes, girl," whispered Dorothy, patting me, "Just do it. It won’t take long. Strip yourself naked and put your hands behind you. Once you're tied up, there’ll be no turning back, then it will just happen, willy-nilly. Dare it! You won’t regret it, you'll enjoy it, it’s your burning desire." I stepped back from the curtain to the bench by the window where Doro had left her clothes. I saw another door on the other side of the small room. "A bath," whispered Dorothy, "a modern bathroom. To ease the strain you’ll be able to shower and take a bath."
I wanted to undress but I couldn’t, I’d begun to tremble so much I couldn’t undo my blouse-buttons. "D-D-Doro, help me," I asked in a whisper. She smiled and came to me. She knelt in front of me and pulled the sandals off. Small and white, they stood in front of me on the wooden floor. I take size 36 I saw the prints of my bare feet on the leather insoles. She stood up and unbuttoned my blouse, button by button she opened the garment of thin fabric. I could still say no, but I couldn’t speak. My knees were soft as butter. She took off my blouse. Then she pulled off my skirt. Finally she slipped my panties down my legs and pulled him off me.
I stood naked in the room. I felt the smooth wooden floor beneath my bare soles. I was breathing heavily. Goddess I was excited! My trembling grew even more, I felt a need to break out at any moment in tears. Daniel was looking at me. Admiration shone from his eyes. And there was a good dose of lust in it. He was aroused, I recognized that! The prospect of being able to experience me right there on the cross was exciting him to the utmost.
"He may look," whispered Dorothy, standing beside me and putting an arm around her shoulders. "He will see everything, love. You won’t be able to hide. You'll be exposed, everyone will see you, they’ll look at you and you’ll experience it. But nobody can touch you. you are taboo on the cross – at most a friendly slap on your bare feet, like you pat a horse's neck. Anything more than that will not be allowed. Then you'll be raised up high above us all, crux-girl, and yet you’ll be deeply humiliated before the eyes of forty-three spectators. They will learn how the cross breaks you, very slowly, they will experience it all at first hand."
Quiet and withdrawn inside myself, I stood there. My hands were not yet tied, I could still say no. I looked at the short piece of rope that was on the table. A simple cord, maybe a metre long. It would seal the contract. Once this ropework binds me, there’ll be no turning back.
Dorothea kissed me on the cheek.
"I'm going to hang you up by your wrists and beat you. That wasn’t part of the plan, but I want it that way. You’ll be decorated with stripes when you go to the cross. I’m going to whip you very hard. They’ll hear you scream, they’ll see you cry, they’ll see how your body struggles and submits under the whip. I will give no quarter. You're going to cry, and cry out loud, crux-girl!"
My tremors intensified - whipped! My cousin wanted to flog me, in front of all these people! She was looking at me with her best cat look. Then she made a small gesture with her hand,
"Daniel"
Daniel took the rope from the table. He came to us and stood behind me. Doro took a step back. She looked deep into my eyes,
"Yes or no?"
I looked at my cousin. I felt fear and despair. I was deeply anxious and fearful. And I was tortured with the desire, everything in me was screaming to do it, never mind the fear! I was excited as never before in my life, I was almost cumming with excitement.
Dorothee repeated her question, "Yes or no?"
Wordlessly, I bent my arms back and crossed my wrists behind my bum.
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
I looked at my cousin. I felt fear and despair. I was deeply anxious and fearful. And I was tortured with the desire, everything in me was screaming to do it, never mind the fear! I was excited as never before in my life, I was almost cumming with excitement.here's what you've been waiting for guys, sorry for the delay!
View attachment 194900
Daniel turned off the road and followed a metalled drive up to a castle. I recognised the walls, it’s privately owned, and at weekends there are guided tours for visitors. During the week it’s closed or hired out, for meetings or whatever. Today it’s booked, because a girl of eighteen is to be crucified in public in front of forty-two people, said the little voice in my head. You're that girl, Lisette.
When we got out my knees were so soft that Dorothea and Daniel had to support me. We went up a flight of stairs and down a long corridor. I was hardly aware of where we were and what it looked like around me, I was getting such palpitations I was afraid I’d have a heart attack. We stopped before a door, Daniel took out a key and unlocked the it. Behind it was a small room with a table and chairs. On the left wall hung a heavy, dark curtain in front of an opening.
"There’s the way into the castle hall," whispered Doro, "you can peep through the gap between the curtains if you like." She bent down and took off her shoes and socks, then she took off her outer garments and donned a simple tunic made of natural linen fabric. At the seams it was decorated with moss green embroidery. I knew these tunics, in the Middle Ages at festivals girls often wore such simple clothes. I thought she was beautiful. No sooner had she put the striped tunic over her shoulders, my cousin grabbed under it and took off her panties. She grinned at me cheerfully and winked, with a nod in the direction of curtain.
Reluctantly, I went there. I pulled the heavy curtains apart just enough that I could peep into the space behind it with one eye. I saw a huge room with hardwood floors and a coffered ceiling with carvings. On the front wall was a fire in the fireplace. In front of that were tables and benches ready for the feast. People of all ages in medieval garb were all around the room, talking to each other and waiting patiently for my appearance. Forty-two of them.
Oh goddess, I was nervous. Forty-two pairs of eyes that were eager to look at me. All the time! Doro included, forty-three people would be watching, as I went naked to the cross and then had to endure six hours. They’d see every movement of my hand, and observe everything at first hand - my nakedness, my helplessness, my moans, my pain. They would hear when I began to plead for deliverance and when I cried out loud. If I cried, would I be able to suppress it? I didn’t think so, so far the cross had broken my will every time. It was stronger than me. It always defeated me.
Dorothea hugged me from behind and rocked me gently. "No cameras", she whispered, "no-one can make any recording, they’ve all been strictly checked. Only their eyes can see you and their ears hear you and their hearts can sympathize with you, crux-girl." She didn’t use my first name.
Daniel was standing beside us, he could hear her. The gentleman had removed his everyday clothing and clad his bulging beer-belly in a medieval minstrel’s get-up in all sorts of colours. He was smiling kindly at me under a plumed hat.
"Think of New Zealand," Doro whispered in my ear, "if you do do it, we’ll get so much money we’ll be able to fly there for three months, and still have cash to spare. They’ve splashed out for this, I can tell you!” Her right hand slipped into my blouse and caressed my breasts, which were naked under the fabric. My nipples grew instantly hard.
The money didn’t tempt me- honestly, I didn’t care, money wasn’t a consideration, at best it would be a pleasant side-effect. I told Dorothea this, she hugged me, "I know, crux-girl, I know!" She gently massaged my breasts and excited me exceedingly. "You want it!" she whispered. "You've always wanted this. You want to be crucified and suffer before the eyes of strangers. You're scared, but you want it, and how!" Yes, I thought. Yes, I want it. And yes, I'm afraid. And how!
"Take off your clothes, girl," whispered Dorothy, patting me, "Just do it. It won’t take long. Strip yourself naked and put your hands behind you. Once you're tied up, there’ll be no turning back, then it will just happen, willy-nilly. Dare it! You won’t regret it, you'll enjoy it, it’s your burning desire." I stepped back from the curtain to the bench by the window where Doro had left her clothes. I saw another door on the other side of the small room. "A bath," whispered Dorothy, "a modern bathroom. To ease the strain you’ll be able to shower and take a bath."
I wanted to undress but I couldn’t, I’d begun to tremble so much I couldn’t undo my blouse-buttons. "D-D-Doro, help me," I asked in a whisper. She smiled and came to me. She knelt in front of me and pulled the sandals off. Small and white, they stood in front of me on the wooden floor. I take size 36 I saw the prints of my bare feet on the leather insoles. She stood up and unbuttoned my blouse, button by button she opened the garment of thin fabric. I could still say no, but I couldn’t speak. My knees were soft as butter. She took off my blouse. Then she pulled off my skirt. Finally she slipped my panties down my legs and pulled him off me.
I stood naked in the room. I felt the smooth wooden floor beneath my bare soles. I was breathing heavily. Goddess I was excited! My trembling grew even more, I felt a need to break out at any moment in tears. Daniel was looking at me. Admiration shone from his eyes. And there was a good dose of lust in it. He was aroused, I recognized that! The prospect of being able to experience me right there on the cross was exciting him to the utmost.
"He may look," whispered Dorothy, standing beside me and putting an arm around her shoulders. "He will see everything, love. You won’t be able to hide. You'll be exposed, everyone will see you, they’ll look at you and you’ll experience it. But nobody can touch you. you are taboo on the cross – at most a friendly slap on your bare feet, like you pat a horse's neck. Anything more than that will not be allowed. Then you'll be raised up high above us all, crux-girl, and yet you’ll be deeply humiliated before the eyes of forty-three spectators. They will learn how the cross breaks you, very slowly, they will experience it all at first hand."
Quiet and withdrawn inside myself, I stood there. My hands were not yet tied, I could still say no. I looked at the short piece of rope that was on the table. A simple cord, maybe a metre long. It would seal the contract. Once this ropework binds me, there’ll be no turning back.
Dorothea kissed me on the cheek.
"I'm going to hang you up by your wrists and beat you. That wasn’t part of the plan, but I want it that way. You’ll be decorated with stripes when you go to the cross. I’m going to whip you very hard. They’ll hear you scream, they’ll see you cry, they’ll see how your body struggles and submits under the whip. I will give no quarter. You're going to cry, and cry out loud, crux-girl!"
My tremors intensified - whipped! My cousin wanted to flog me, in front of all these people! She was looking at me with her best cat look. Then she made a small gesture with her hand,
"Daniel"
Daniel took the rope from the table. He came to us and stood behind me. Doro took a step back. She looked deep into my eyes,
"Yes or no?"
I looked at my cousin. I felt fear and despair. I was deeply anxious and fearful. And I was tortured with the desire, everything in me was screaming to do it, never mind the fear! I was excited as never before in my life, I was almost cumming with excitement.
I looked at my cousin. I felt fear and despair. I was deeply anxious and fearful. And I was tortured with the desire, everything in me was screaming to do it, never mind the fear! I was excited as never before in my life, I was almost cumming with excitement.
Dorothee repeated her question, "Yes or no?"
Wordlessly, I bent my arms back and crossed my wrists behind my bum.
Dorothee repeated her question, "Yes or no?"
Wordlessly, I bent my arms back and crossed my wrists behind my bum.
Dorothee repeated her question, "Yes or no?"
Wordlessly, I bent my arms back and crossed my wrists behind my bum.
If this is what Eulalia can deliver to us on a single stripe Pp needs to find a way to encourage her regularly. Eul the buildup to Lisette's public crux is supurb.
here's what you've been waiting for guys, sorry for the delay! 
...anyone who reads a 'Tree' story knows the lead-up is very important... I just thought you wanted to be whipped...
Tree
...anyone who reads a 'Tree' story knows the lead-up is very important... I just thought you wanted to be whipped...
Tree
27 A cruel flogging before the crucifixion
Daniel put his cords around my wrists. He pulled the rope between my hands and made a knot. It felt strange being bound by someone other than Doro, but I was so excited that I barely registered the fact. I was almost hyperventilating, my heart was pounding so wildly, I was breathing in and out frantically. Doro stood in front of me, "I love you! You’re incredible! You’re wonderful!" She kissed me on the mouth. Then she went over to the curtain. I heard the soft patter of her bare feet on the smooth polished parquet floor, abundantly clear, all my senses were sharpened supernaturally.
I took one last look around the small room. I saw my clothes folded neatly on the bench by the window. My white sandals stood in front of it. I’d bought them in May, in the pedestrian precinct, Meyers' shoe store, size 36, they’d suited me well, they were simple but pretty, I’d particularly liked that the leather where my feet stood was also white, insoles are mostly black in sandals - how like little boats were my white sandals, floating on the dark wooden floor, I could see the prints of my bare feet, I’d worn these sandals a lot, my feet had put my own personal stamp on the leather, just like on the foot-support my cross, I thought, I’ve left my trace there too, I’ve been crucified so many times, I’ve suffered so long, suffered and enjoyed, experienced pain and pleasure, a dream had come true - and now another dream has to come true. crucifixion in front of many spectators…
I took one last look at my sandals and my lonely footprints. All of a sudden I had to stop myself laughing, I was naked – stark naked. Im to be be strapped to the cross and the audience will see all of me, I won’t be able to hide anything from them. But they won’t get to see my feet – they’re as naked as everything else in my body but they’ll be invisible. My butt and my back will be visible for the people in the castle hall, eventually, I’ll have to struggle, move my abdomen back and forth, bend my back and push my bum away from the cross. But my bare feet would remain hidden from them. It was a funny idea, aha, I’ve got a little secret!
My nervousness settled down a little bit, but really just a tiny bit. Daniel grabbed my arm and pushed me forward gently. It was time, now there was no turning back! Now they’ll crucify me, and when I resist they’ll force me to be strapped onto the cross, with violence .... It was a scenario that I’d often imagined, but I’d never spoken to Dorothea about it, not even this afternoon on the workshop wall, when she’d extorted confessions from me. How should the performance proceed, anyway? I had no idea, nothing had been arranged, I had to accept it however it came, I had no more influence over whatever happened to me now, I was condemned to complete passivity, I had to submit to everything. An exciting idea - it turned me on. I’d just have to let it all go through me...
Dorothea pulled the curtains apart. The hall fell silent. The people took their places to spectate. She bowed, "Ladies and gentlemen, the crux-girl is here. Get ready for an extraordinary spectacle, a spectacle like you've never experienced!” Daniel pushed me forward gently. Automatically I put one foot before the other. I was almost cumming with excitement, now we were off! Now it was serious! I was very shaky, I was scared, but Iwanted it so much. It’s meant to happen, before all these people. Oh, I was so excited!
Daniel led me into the middle of the hall. The people made a passage. At the end of the alley I saw the cross - my cross. I’d have loved to walked there, quick, quick! Let me be strapped securely! Fix me! It was a comforting sight - something so familiar in this completely foreign environment, my cross, my beloved cross. But in the middle of the room we stopped. Dorothea made a theatrical gesture, "Dear guests, our crux-girl!" All around me there was clapping, the people went "Aaaah!" and "Ooooh!" I was so excited that I didn’t recognise faces, I only saw people standing around us, standing around me. They were keeping a respectful distance, more than three meters. They wanted to see me in full size. Eyes swept over my bare skin. From the hushed voices I could hear a few comments, "What a pretty thing." "She's cute, don’t you think?" "Isn’t she cute?" "Does she really want to go six hours on the cross? For us?" "Look! She’s gone red! She’s shy. How cute!" " What a beautiful young woman!"
So they said, their voices mingling. I was dying of shame and excitement. As if in a trance I was led on through the hall. They were all staring at me, I’d never experienced anything like it. In my head all sorts of feelings were a booming, buzzing confusion. I was completely beside myself. And I was happy. I was ashamed and yet I was drunk with happiness.
Daniel undid my wrist-bonds. I heard a loud clicking above me. When I looked up, I saw a massive chain of rusty iron coming down to me from the high roof of the hall. At the lower end it held a massive hook. With a gesture Daniel gave me to understand that I should cross my hands stretched out in front of my body. I obeyed mechanically, I didn’t think of resistance. I wanted to have it – yes! You’re getting ready for flogging, it went through my head. Hang me up by my hands and whip me. By all the gods of Olympus! I’m going to be publicly flogged! Daniel pulled me up by my hands and tied them with a piece of rope onto the hook. Dorothea knelt in front of me on the floor and tied my ankles.
"What’s this?" the people were asking, they were beginning to whisper, "This wasn’t in the agreement, what are you doing?" "What are you thinking of doing....?" Dorothea stood up. My feet were tied. Daniel went to an apparatus on the wall. He operated a large iron crank. With a loud clanking the chain to which I was bound rose up, my arms were raised and I was stretched. When I was still just resting on my toe-pads, Daniel stopped cranking. I was hanging helplessly on the chain, naked, delivered the gaze of the people.
Dorothea turned to the people. "Dear guests, before the actual crucifixion, there is a small bonus, a special extension to our performance. Our crux-girl is going to be whipped. She must feel the whip, and none too gently, her body will become covered with beautiful weals, they’ll look all the better when she’s on the cross." My cousin bowed low "Please give her a round of applause!"
The people clapped, "Wonderful!" "A flogging! Ravishing!" "Very lovely!" "Yes, this beautiful body is crying out for some solid strokes of the whip!" "She’s going to be flogged first, just like they did in real life in ancient Rome. Gorgeous!"
My cousin went without haste to a table. Now it was quiet as a mouse in the castle hall. Everyone looked fascinated, no-one wanted to miss the slightest detail. I heard Doro's bare feet pattering on the wooden floor, she came back with the whip. I looked at her. She’s going to beat you, Lisette. You’re going to be flogged in front of the eyes of these people. I can do nothing to prevent it, nothing. What a feeling! I was given up, helpless. I was feeling fear and excitement.
Without haste, Dorothea circled around me. She strolled around me, while she looked for the best place for the first blow. Come on, Doro! I thought, don’t make me wait, please hit... But she took her time. The people looked on silently, it was very quiet in the room, I only heard the faint sounds of Doro’s bare feet on the floor. If a mouse were in the room, I’d have even heard its soft scuffling on the wooden floor. Outside, far away, a dog barked...
Daniel put his cords around my wrists. He pulled the rope between my hands and made a knot. It felt strange being bound by someone other than Doro, but I was so excited that I barely registered the fact. I was almost hyperventilating, my heart was pounding so wildly, I was breathing in and out frantically. Doro stood in front of me, "I love you! You’re incredible! You’re wonderful!" She kissed me on the mouth. Then she went over to the curtain. I heard the soft patter of her bare feet on the smooth polished parquet floor, abundantly clear, all my senses were sharpened supernaturally.
I took one last look around the small room. I saw my clothes folded neatly on the bench by the window. My white sandals stood in front of it. I’d bought them in May, in the pedestrian precinct, Meyers' shoe store, size 36, they’d suited me well, they were simple but pretty, I’d particularly liked that the leather where my feet stood was also white, insoles are mostly black in sandals - how like little boats were my white sandals, floating on the dark wooden floor, I could see the prints of my bare feet, I’d worn these sandals a lot, my feet had put my own personal stamp on the leather, just like on the foot-support my cross, I thought, I’ve left my trace there too, I’ve been crucified so many times, I’ve suffered so long, suffered and enjoyed, experienced pain and pleasure, a dream had come true - and now another dream has to come true. crucifixion in front of many spectators…
I took one last look at my sandals and my lonely footprints. All of a sudden I had to stop myself laughing, I was naked – stark naked. Im to be be strapped to the cross and the audience will see all of me, I won’t be able to hide anything from them. But they won’t get to see my feet – they’re as naked as everything else in my body but they’ll be invisible. My butt and my back will be visible for the people in the castle hall, eventually, I’ll have to struggle, move my abdomen back and forth, bend my back and push my bum away from the cross. But my bare feet would remain hidden from them. It was a funny idea, aha, I’ve got a little secret!
My nervousness settled down a little bit, but really just a tiny bit. Daniel grabbed my arm and pushed me forward gently. It was time, now there was no turning back! Now they’ll crucify me, and when I resist they’ll force me to be strapped onto the cross, with violence .... It was a scenario that I’d often imagined, but I’d never spoken to Dorothea about it, not even this afternoon on the workshop wall, when she’d extorted confessions from me. How should the performance proceed, anyway? I had no idea, nothing had been arranged, I had to accept it however it came, I had no more influence over whatever happened to me now, I was condemned to complete passivity, I had to submit to everything. An exciting idea - it turned me on. I’d just have to let it all go through me...
Dorothea pulled the curtains apart. The hall fell silent. The people took their places to spectate. She bowed, "Ladies and gentlemen, the crux-girl is here. Get ready for an extraordinary spectacle, a spectacle like you've never experienced!” Daniel pushed me forward gently. Automatically I put one foot before the other. I was almost cumming with excitement, now we were off! Now it was serious! I was very shaky, I was scared, but Iwanted it so much. It’s meant to happen, before all these people. Oh, I was so excited!
Daniel led me into the middle of the hall. The people made a passage. At the end of the alley I saw the cross - my cross. I’d have loved to walked there, quick, quick! Let me be strapped securely! Fix me! It was a comforting sight - something so familiar in this completely foreign environment, my cross, my beloved cross. But in the middle of the room we stopped. Dorothea made a theatrical gesture, "Dear guests, our crux-girl!" All around me there was clapping, the people went "Aaaah!" and "Ooooh!" I was so excited that I didn’t recognise faces, I only saw people standing around us, standing around me. They were keeping a respectful distance, more than three meters. They wanted to see me in full size. Eyes swept over my bare skin. From the hushed voices I could hear a few comments, "What a pretty thing." "She's cute, don’t you think?" "Isn’t she cute?" "Does she really want to go six hours on the cross? For us?" "Look! She’s gone red! She’s shy. How cute!" " What a beautiful young woman!"
So they said, their voices mingling. I was dying of shame and excitement. As if in a trance I was led on through the hall. They were all staring at me, I’d never experienced anything like it. In my head all sorts of feelings were a booming, buzzing confusion. I was completely beside myself. And I was happy. I was ashamed and yet I was drunk with happiness.
Daniel undid my wrist-bonds. I heard a loud clicking above me. When I looked up, I saw a massive chain of rusty iron coming down to me from the high roof of the hall. At the lower end it held a massive hook. With a gesture Daniel gave me to understand that I should cross my hands stretched out in front of my body. I obeyed mechanically, I didn’t think of resistance. I wanted to have it – yes! You’re getting ready for flogging, it went through my head. Hang me up by my hands and whip me. By all the gods of Olympus! I’m going to be publicly flogged! Daniel pulled me up by my hands and tied them with a piece of rope onto the hook. Dorothea knelt in front of me on the floor and tied my ankles.
"What’s this?" the people were asking, they were beginning to whisper, "This wasn’t in the agreement, what are you doing?" "What are you thinking of doing....?" Dorothea stood up. My feet were tied. Daniel went to an apparatus on the wall. He operated a large iron crank. With a loud clanking the chain to which I was bound rose up, my arms were raised and I was stretched. When I was still just resting on my toe-pads, Daniel stopped cranking. I was hanging helplessly on the chain, naked, delivered the gaze of the people.
Dorothea turned to the people. "Dear guests, before the actual crucifixion, there is a small bonus, a special extension to our performance. Our crux-girl is going to be whipped. She must feel the whip, and none too gently, her body will become covered with beautiful weals, they’ll look all the better when she’s on the cross." My cousin bowed low "Please give her a round of applause!"
The people clapped, "Wonderful!" "A flogging! Ravishing!" "Very lovely!" "Yes, this beautiful body is crying out for some solid strokes of the whip!" "She’s going to be flogged first, just like they did in real life in ancient Rome. Gorgeous!"
My cousin went without haste to a table. Now it was quiet as a mouse in the castle hall. Everyone looked fascinated, no-one wanted to miss the slightest detail. I heard Doro's bare feet pattering on the wooden floor, she came back with the whip. I looked at her. She’s going to beat you, Lisette. You’re going to be flogged in front of the eyes of these people. I can do nothing to prevent it, nothing. What a feeling! I was given up, helpless. I was feeling fear and excitement.
Without haste, Dorothea circled around me. She strolled around me, while she looked for the best place for the first blow. Come on, Doro! I thought, don’t make me wait, please hit... But she took her time. The people looked on silently, it was very quiet in the room, I only heard the faint sounds of Doro’s bare feet on the floor. If a mouse were in the room, I’d have even heard its soft scuffling on the wooden floor. Outside, far away, a dog barked...
Last edited:
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Apart from all the anticipation seeing Lisette await the whip, even while thinking of hearing a mouse and noticing the dog barking, has Pp envious of Doro as she looks to where she will deliver that first, very public, blow.
I've enjoyed working on this bit even more than most - apart from the hormone-racing build-up,
the'stream of consciousness' detour when she's meditating on her white sandals seems to me a brilliant touch,
it's just the kind of daft thing your (well my) brain does at high-stress moments like that,
very believable, and of course it makes the journey to the cross even more of a roller-coaster of emotions.
the'stream of consciousness' detour when she's meditating on her white sandals seems to me a brilliant touch,
it's just the kind of daft thing your (well my) brain does at high-stress moments like that,
very believable, and of course it makes the journey to the cross even more of a roller-coaster of emotions.
Without warning, the first blow. The whip hit me with full force between my shoulder blades. I let out a startled cry and jerked myself up. Peng! The next blow, and another, another, Dorothea was giving me no time to get used to the beatings. She was thrashing me, beating rapidly, and cruelly hard, I gasped in horror and tried to suppress further cries. She noticed this, and reinforced her blows immediately. With incredible hardness she broke my resistance, I had nothing to pit against it. I started to cry, then I yelled out loud.
My cousin circled me. Again and again she struck me, on my buttocks, on my back, on my thighs - back, side, front. She hit me across my stomach and my breasts. My tits got her special attention. I was squirming, howling, on the hook, crying, shouting. Around me I saw bright faces floating in space, gazing eyes, eyes that were looking at me, all-seeing eyes. wide-open eyes, all staring at me alone.
"Say that you want the cross!" Doro exclaimed in a stentorian voice.
"I want the cross," I cried. "I want the cross!" Oh and how I wanted it too! I wanted to get away from the terrible whip. Please, I want to go very quickly onto the cross!
"Say that you want to suffer on the cross," ordered my cousin, in the same imperious tone.
"I want to suffer on the cross," I cried breathlessly. The whip hit me repeatedly, at short intervals, the lashing was relentless, the instrument was torturing me, the whip had broken my resistance.
"Say you want to stay on the cross for eight hours," shouted Doro.
"I want to stay for eight hours on the cross," I cried, "I want to stay eight hours!"
Dorothee whipped me further, she struck and struck wihtout ending. I sobbed, I shouted, I cried, I squirmed.
"Speak up! Eight hours on the cross is what you desire," commanded my cousin again.
"I want eight hours on the cross!" I howled.
"Say it again!"
"I want eight hours on the cross," I cried. "I want eight hours on the cross!"
"And?" barked Dorothee and whipped me further.
"I want eight hours on the cross, please" I yelled. "Pleeeeeeeease let me be crucified for eight hours, I desire eight hours on the cross, I need eight hours on the cross!"
She just went on whipping me without mercy. Again and again I screamed that I wanted eight hours on the cross. I will do it! I do want it! I’ve told her! I thought frantically. I’ve said it dozens of times. Stop it! Doro, stop! I answered you! I've said it! I’ve told you!!! But she didn’t stop, she circled me and hit me with the whip, again and again, still wanting me to say out loud that I wanted to have eight hours on the cross - and I cried and sobbed and screamed that I wanted to do it. The whole time I was crying and yelling and squirming under the cruel blows. I turned around slowly on the hook in a circle, a dance in wild ecstasy of pain, while Doro went on whipping me. "Eight hours," I cried. "eight hours, please, I want eight hours on the cross!" She didn’t need to ask any more, I just went on yelling, screeching out to be crucified for eight hours. Over and over again, while the merciless blows rained down on my unprotected body.
When it finally stopped, I hung limp in my bondage, still weeping aloud. If I ‘d not been hanging on a hook, I’d have collapsed. I was sobbing passionately, I was completely broken, I had no will, no pride, I just wanted to be mumble and obey. The terrible burning of the bruises spread like a hot flush over my body and crawled deep into me. I was breathing in gasps. Around me were faces floating in the hall. I could do no more. Yet even while I was wondering how to stop my tears, they dried, I calmed down amazingly soon. The pain I felt clearly, I loved you, you belong to me, you are my pain. I’d had to endure my flogging, I, Lisette Lange, the Girl with no Name for these strange people.
I heard the people whispering. "Man, that was a show!” “Unbelievable!" "A lovely performance, just lovely!" "A work of art!" “She really took a thrashing!” "How could she withstand it? Madness!" "The poor little thing." "What do you mean, poor little thing?! She loved it! She’s just got what she loves most! She’s showing it, and all - there’s pure bliss in her eyes!"
So they talked while I was still hooked up, and again it came to me – eight hours! Doro had demanded that I ask out loud, and I’d done it. I was under the cruel bite of the whip when I requested to be crucified for eight hours. I felt a smile hovering on my face. Eight hours, Doro, I’d have done it without any compulsion. But the compulsion had made it all the more beautiful. I felt deep gratitude towards her - thankyou for forcing me, cousin, thankyou!
My cousin circled me. Again and again she struck me, on my buttocks, on my back, on my thighs - back, side, front. She hit me across my stomach and my breasts. My tits got her special attention. I was squirming, howling, on the hook, crying, shouting. Around me I saw bright faces floating in space, gazing eyes, eyes that were looking at me, all-seeing eyes. wide-open eyes, all staring at me alone.
"Say that you want the cross!" Doro exclaimed in a stentorian voice.
"I want the cross," I cried. "I want the cross!" Oh and how I wanted it too! I wanted to get away from the terrible whip. Please, I want to go very quickly onto the cross!
"Say that you want to suffer on the cross," ordered my cousin, in the same imperious tone.
"I want to suffer on the cross," I cried breathlessly. The whip hit me repeatedly, at short intervals, the lashing was relentless, the instrument was torturing me, the whip had broken my resistance.
"Say you want to stay on the cross for eight hours," shouted Doro.
"I want to stay for eight hours on the cross," I cried, "I want to stay eight hours!"
Dorothee whipped me further, she struck and struck wihtout ending. I sobbed, I shouted, I cried, I squirmed.
"Speak up! Eight hours on the cross is what you desire," commanded my cousin again.
"I want eight hours on the cross!" I howled.
"Say it again!"
"I want eight hours on the cross," I cried. "I want eight hours on the cross!"
"And?" barked Dorothee and whipped me further.
"I want eight hours on the cross, please" I yelled. "Pleeeeeeeease let me be crucified for eight hours, I desire eight hours on the cross, I need eight hours on the cross!"
She just went on whipping me without mercy. Again and again I screamed that I wanted eight hours on the cross. I will do it! I do want it! I’ve told her! I thought frantically. I’ve said it dozens of times. Stop it! Doro, stop! I answered you! I've said it! I’ve told you!!! But she didn’t stop, she circled me and hit me with the whip, again and again, still wanting me to say out loud that I wanted to have eight hours on the cross - and I cried and sobbed and screamed that I wanted to do it. The whole time I was crying and yelling and squirming under the cruel blows. I turned around slowly on the hook in a circle, a dance in wild ecstasy of pain, while Doro went on whipping me. "Eight hours," I cried. "eight hours, please, I want eight hours on the cross!" She didn’t need to ask any more, I just went on yelling, screeching out to be crucified for eight hours. Over and over again, while the merciless blows rained down on my unprotected body.
When it finally stopped, I hung limp in my bondage, still weeping aloud. If I ‘d not been hanging on a hook, I’d have collapsed. I was sobbing passionately, I was completely broken, I had no will, no pride, I just wanted to be mumble and obey. The terrible burning of the bruises spread like a hot flush over my body and crawled deep into me. I was breathing in gasps. Around me were faces floating in the hall. I could do no more. Yet even while I was wondering how to stop my tears, they dried, I calmed down amazingly soon. The pain I felt clearly, I loved you, you belong to me, you are my pain. I’d had to endure my flogging, I, Lisette Lange, the Girl with no Name for these strange people.
I heard the people whispering. "Man, that was a show!” “Unbelievable!" "A lovely performance, just lovely!" "A work of art!" “She really took a thrashing!” "How could she withstand it? Madness!" "The poor little thing." "What do you mean, poor little thing?! She loved it! She’s just got what she loves most! She’s showing it, and all - there’s pure bliss in her eyes!"
So they talked while I was still hooked up, and again it came to me – eight hours! Doro had demanded that I ask out loud, and I’d done it. I was under the cruel bite of the whip when I requested to be crucified for eight hours. I felt a smile hovering on my face. Eight hours, Doro, I’d have done it without any compulsion. But the compulsion had made it all the more beautiful. I felt deep gratitude towards her - thankyou for forcing me, cousin, thankyou!
Last edited:
P
Pia
Guest
Just wonderful.... I think a few of us are imagining ourselves as Lisette right now....WowShall we go for nine hours next?
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Wow. Thanks Eulalia. After Barbaria and her bloody rebels sabotaged Pp's flight home yesterday he was forced to wait a night and half a day to get back to Dorothea and Lisette. He could have handled the delays but the indignity of forcing him to wait for these girls was almost too much. He has got square with them and, finally, he has been able to join Doro in whipping Lisette and is much happier and calmer.
no sooner than you post, Dupont, this slavegirl comes at your command! 
I was silent and stood there quietly, propped up on my toes, waiting to see what’d be done to me next. I was ready to accept anything, I was so crushed by this brutal whipping, I was willing to do anything they might ask of me. It was a wonderful feeling! Dorothea came back to me, she gave Daniel a wink, hturned the crank and I was let down a bit down until I could stand on my soles. She knelt before me and undid my ankle-ropes. I smiled down at her, her, kneeling in front of me, in front of me! My champion torturer had to kneel before the whipping-girl! When my feet were free, Daniel let the chain down further and Doro untied my hands. Someone came up with a glass of water on a tray. Never had a glass of water looked so beautiful to me. a glass.
"Drink, crux-girl," said the bearer of the delicious beverage.
I drank. The water was nice and cool. "Thanks," I said bravely.
After I’d drunk, Daniel drew my arms behind my back and tied my wrists. Then he turned me so that I had to face the people, who were now standing in a semicircle. I was so excited that I perceived their faces just as bright spots. I was dying of shame, I was satnding stark naked and bound in front of all these strangers and they were gazing at at me.
Dorothea stood at my side. "You wish to go on to the cross, girl?" she asked me.
"Yes," I replied.
"You want to be crucified for eight hours?"
"Yes, please."
"You will endure it, no matter how great the pain?"
"Yes," I said. I swallowed hard. Goddess, I was excited.
"Say thankyou to our guests!"
"Thanks," I said, it was aIl I could say. The people clapped. Doro took my arm and led me to the cross. The audience formed a wide circle around us and stood watching. The cross lay before me. My Cross. They’d put it on massive wooden blocks, and it was already hooked to a hoist chain above. At the bottom I noticed a bracket that looked almost exactly like the one in Doro’s grandfather’s workshop. My cross. A somewhat comforting sight. I saw the footprints of my bare feet on the footrest. My cross. For eight hours! I’ve never had to endure so uch. Daniel undid my wrist-bonds.
The cross was calling me. I answered the call. Without hesitation, I stepped to the cross and lay down on it. Dorothea strapped me down. It was just as always, and yet everything was different. The people looked interested. They were curious and wanted to see exactly how my cousin secured me on the cross, how she was making me defenceless. Once she’d strapped me, she made a sign with her hand. Someone was operating the hoist. It sounded different fom the one in the workshop, it clicked louder, but the hoist-chain didn’t rattle so noisily. And another difference, I rose astonishingly quickly into the air, it was a smooth, continuous motion. I straightened up. Once the cross was vertical, someone inserted the safety bar at the bottom. The cross stood firm and upright. I stood upright, or rather I was upright. It was the same as always, there I wasn’t standing, I wan’t hanging, it was both. The cross was holding me tight. With arms outstretched I hung on the wood – presented naked for the eyes of the people.
They could see me well. Large windows lit the room, and many lamps were shining. In the fireplace at the side in front of me a fire was crackling, that seemed cozy! My battered body was burning and aching from the flogging, but I endured it without complaint. Worse than the pain was the shame, I was infintiely ashamed, hanging naked on the cross in front of these people. I almost wanted to shrink into the wood. My exposed posture showed the audience everything. I could not put my hands in front of my breast, I was defenceless against the gaze of these people.
Men were looking up at me, in their eyes was a mixture of greed, lust and pleasure. Also arousal. Yes, that too, I could see it clearly. And I was the reason for their excitement. The people were talking to each other, "How beautiful she looks!" "Look, so many pretty scars all over her body." "The flogging was great!" "Yes, that was a great addition to the performance. How she suffered under the whip!" "The Mistress of Ceremonies gave herself free rein!" "And how! The girl’s screams were so sweet!" "And her tears." "Yes." "She's beautiful." "Beautiful." "Look how she moves on the cross. Doesn’t she dance gloriously?"
Every movement of mine was commented upon out loud. Without any inhibition, they pointed to my female assets and discussed my naked body. My breasts were assessed, my pelvis (nice swing, really!), my legs, my feet (feet like a princess’s, small and dainty - cute!), my hair (nice that she has a fringe, even if her head droops, her pretty face isn’t hidden by hair), my pubes (it’s shaved, so she seems even more naked!), everything. I felt so naked and exposed, like never before in my life. I was terribly ashamed.
Those who stood below me registered each of my emotions, I couldn’t hide anything from them. Nothing. I didn’t even know what expression I should put on. "Oh my God! She’s blushing," cried an elderly lady, "She’s bright red! How cute! See how excited the little one is - just!" "She’s embarrassed - wonderful! This is just wonderful, so lifelike, so sweet!"
I couldn't escape their words any more than I could escape their gaze, I was on public display, offered helpless to the eyes of the audience. My shame rose immeasurably. At the same time I felt I was being seized by a powerful excitation, it pleasured me to be ashamed and naked and helpless, hanging on the cross in front of these people. For a moment I closed my eyes to hide everything. My cheeks were burning with shame, I thought they must stay bright red for the rest of my life.
I was silent and stood there quietly, propped up on my toes, waiting to see what’d be done to me next. I was ready to accept anything, I was so crushed by this brutal whipping, I was willing to do anything they might ask of me. It was a wonderful feeling! Dorothea came back to me, she gave Daniel a wink, hturned the crank and I was let down a bit down until I could stand on my soles. She knelt before me and undid my ankle-ropes. I smiled down at her, her, kneeling in front of me, in front of me! My champion torturer had to kneel before the whipping-girl! When my feet were free, Daniel let the chain down further and Doro untied my hands. Someone came up with a glass of water on a tray. Never had a glass of water looked so beautiful to me. a glass.
"Drink, crux-girl," said the bearer of the delicious beverage.
I drank. The water was nice and cool. "Thanks," I said bravely.
After I’d drunk, Daniel drew my arms behind my back and tied my wrists. Then he turned me so that I had to face the people, who were now standing in a semicircle. I was so excited that I perceived their faces just as bright spots. I was dying of shame, I was satnding stark naked and bound in front of all these strangers and they were gazing at at me.
Dorothea stood at my side. "You wish to go on to the cross, girl?" she asked me.
"Yes," I replied.
"You want to be crucified for eight hours?"
"Yes, please."
"You will endure it, no matter how great the pain?"
"Yes," I said. I swallowed hard. Goddess, I was excited.
"Say thankyou to our guests!"
"Thanks," I said, it was aIl I could say. The people clapped. Doro took my arm and led me to the cross. The audience formed a wide circle around us and stood watching. The cross lay before me. My Cross. They’d put it on massive wooden blocks, and it was already hooked to a hoist chain above. At the bottom I noticed a bracket that looked almost exactly like the one in Doro’s grandfather’s workshop. My cross. A somewhat comforting sight. I saw the footprints of my bare feet on the footrest. My cross. For eight hours! I’ve never had to endure so uch. Daniel undid my wrist-bonds.
The cross was calling me. I answered the call. Without hesitation, I stepped to the cross and lay down on it. Dorothea strapped me down. It was just as always, and yet everything was different. The people looked interested. They were curious and wanted to see exactly how my cousin secured me on the cross, how she was making me defenceless. Once she’d strapped me, she made a sign with her hand. Someone was operating the hoist. It sounded different fom the one in the workshop, it clicked louder, but the hoist-chain didn’t rattle so noisily. And another difference, I rose astonishingly quickly into the air, it was a smooth, continuous motion. I straightened up. Once the cross was vertical, someone inserted the safety bar at the bottom. The cross stood firm and upright. I stood upright, or rather I was upright. It was the same as always, there I wasn’t standing, I wan’t hanging, it was both. The cross was holding me tight. With arms outstretched I hung on the wood – presented naked for the eyes of the people.
They could see me well. Large windows lit the room, and many lamps were shining. In the fireplace at the side in front of me a fire was crackling, that seemed cozy! My battered body was burning and aching from the flogging, but I endured it without complaint. Worse than the pain was the shame, I was infintiely ashamed, hanging naked on the cross in front of these people. I almost wanted to shrink into the wood. My exposed posture showed the audience everything. I could not put my hands in front of my breast, I was defenceless against the gaze of these people.
Men were looking up at me, in their eyes was a mixture of greed, lust and pleasure. Also arousal. Yes, that too, I could see it clearly. And I was the reason for their excitement. The people were talking to each other, "How beautiful she looks!" "Look, so many pretty scars all over her body." "The flogging was great!" "Yes, that was a great addition to the performance. How she suffered under the whip!" "The Mistress of Ceremonies gave herself free rein!" "And how! The girl’s screams were so sweet!" "And her tears." "Yes." "She's beautiful." "Beautiful." "Look how she moves on the cross. Doesn’t she dance gloriously?"
Every movement of mine was commented upon out loud. Without any inhibition, they pointed to my female assets and discussed my naked body. My breasts were assessed, my pelvis (nice swing, really!), my legs, my feet (feet like a princess’s, small and dainty - cute!), my hair (nice that she has a fringe, even if her head droops, her pretty face isn’t hidden by hair), my pubes (it’s shaved, so she seems even more naked!), everything. I felt so naked and exposed, like never before in my life. I was terribly ashamed.
Those who stood below me registered each of my emotions, I couldn’t hide anything from them. Nothing. I didn’t even know what expression I should put on. "Oh my God! She’s blushing," cried an elderly lady, "She’s bright red! How cute! See how excited the little one is - just!" "She’s embarrassed - wonderful! This is just wonderful, so lifelike, so sweet!"
I couldn't escape their words any more than I could escape their gaze, I was on public display, offered helpless to the eyes of the audience. My shame rose immeasurably. At the same time I felt I was being seized by a powerful excitation, it pleasured me to be ashamed and naked and helpless, hanging on the cross in front of these people. For a moment I closed my eyes to hide everything. My cheeks were burning with shame, I thought they must stay bright red for the rest of my life.
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Oh yes Lisette, Pp is one of those "looking up at you, in his eyes a mixture of greed, lust and pleasure. Also arousal. Yes, that too, you can see it clearly. And you are the reason for his excitement."
He was aroused when he whipped you with Dorothea and now by you on public display, naked and helpless, hanging on your cross.
Eul, your reward is our pleasure.
I thought of Doro and our games in the workshop. On the cross, I was off-limits, she couldn’t torment me there, she could only watch as I suffered, and listen to my pleading, and take delight in my tears. But the other treatments .... my cousin constantly came up with new cruelties for me. She never tired of trying new varieties of infliction, and I was a good girl and willingly let her torment me. She’d tied me stretched in an X on the wall and put her clamps on my nipples. Not content with that, she’d screwed another clip onto my clit. Then she’d kept turning the screws at intervals and listening to my yelling. She’d brought me to tears and then to screams. She’d extorted confessions from me, while I was squirming in pain and gasping out my enforced answers. She’d turned me inside out and tormented me so intensely that I’d told her everything she wanted to know. It was a wonderful ordeal. I sang in pain and told my cruel cousin all my secrets. There was nothing I could keep hidden from her - not even my dreams of public crucifixion before an audience of strangers! She’d made copious notes. Again and again she’d twisted those terrible fixed clips. Every time I’d howled out loud and every time I’d told, all the more desperately, everything my Inquisitor wanted to know.
Ah, the gleam in Dorothea's eyes when I was hanging naked by my wrists in front of her and she set upon me with her whip! And my screams, they never ceased, they never stopped. She just whipped on and on, no matter how fervently I begged her. Oh, her beautiful mercilessness! Not callousness, no, there was so much emotion in her eyes, she was giving me what I loved so much – pain, subjugation, humiliation, breaking. She’d forced me to promise her anything she wanted.
After that she was always quiet and withdrawn. She’d let me go, went with me to the bathroom, washed me in the bath, massaged my tired body. And then came the moment when she fell on her knees in front of me, back in the workshop. Her gaze was fixed on the floor at my feet. "Punish me, Lisette." Softly she spoke, "Punish me for what I've done to you. Then I punished her - with cane, crop and whip. It was nice, it felt good beating her, it was lovely to see her cry and to listen to her sweet sobs. I punished her!
Down in the hall, the people had spread out a little. They were walking about and looking all around me. They were talking. Someone played music on a harp and sang. Wine and mead were served. They started serving food, a medieval feast began. I was in the middle of it, the main attraction to be observed again and again, a piece of living furniture, so to speak. Living furniture, a special decoration for the castle hall, precious jewellery. And soon, suffering jewellery. Soon ....
But not yet. A few people were still standing or sitting around the cross and looking at me. I began to tell individual faces apart. Men and women of all ages had come to see me on the cross. I hung still, suspended from the beam. I was still ashamed. But deep inside I was feeling a wonderful excitement and joy with what was happening to me. I’d longed for it and now it had become a reality. I was exposed helpless to the eyes of strangers. The bruises from my flogging were burning, I was enjoying the pain, I was enjoying everything. Even though I was utterly ashamed, I was loving it.
Ah, the gleam in Dorothea's eyes when I was hanging naked by my wrists in front of her and she set upon me with her whip! And my screams, they never ceased, they never stopped. She just whipped on and on, no matter how fervently I begged her. Oh, her beautiful mercilessness! Not callousness, no, there was so much emotion in her eyes, she was giving me what I loved so much – pain, subjugation, humiliation, breaking. She’d forced me to promise her anything she wanted.
After that she was always quiet and withdrawn. She’d let me go, went with me to the bathroom, washed me in the bath, massaged my tired body. And then came the moment when she fell on her knees in front of me, back in the workshop. Her gaze was fixed on the floor at my feet. "Punish me, Lisette." Softly she spoke, "Punish me for what I've done to you. Then I punished her - with cane, crop and whip. It was nice, it felt good beating her, it was lovely to see her cry and to listen to her sweet sobs. I punished her!
Down in the hall, the people had spread out a little. They were walking about and looking all around me. They were talking. Someone played music on a harp and sang. Wine and mead were served. They started serving food, a medieval feast began. I was in the middle of it, the main attraction to be observed again and again, a piece of living furniture, so to speak. Living furniture, a special decoration for the castle hall, precious jewellery. And soon, suffering jewellery. Soon ....
But not yet. A few people were still standing or sitting around the cross and looking at me. I began to tell individual faces apart. Men and women of all ages had come to see me on the cross. I hung still, suspended from the beam. I was still ashamed. But deep inside I was feeling a wonderful excitement and joy with what was happening to me. I’d longed for it and now it had become a reality. I was exposed helpless to the eyes of strangers. The bruises from my flogging were burning, I was enjoying the pain, I was enjoying everything. Even though I was utterly ashamed, I was loving it.
dupont76
Guard
I felt lonely today. But you came again wonderful girl . Inspiring some future dreams for my week end
Last edited:
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
For once Pp is happy that he was unable to join our girls until he had a quiet home where he could sit in his favourite chair and just watch Lisette as that living, special decoration, soon-to-be suffering jewellery, still hanging from the beam, bruises burning and loving her shame.
28 A familiar face among all the spectators
As always, time lost its importance. On the cross, it was measured in other rhythms. It was the time of the beginning, when I was full of pleasure and excitement on the cross and enjoying it, being bound, naked and helpless. There was the time when my friend, the merciless Mr. Pain came to me and began to stroke me all around. Then came the time of the slow, agonizing dance on the wood when it started to hurt so much that my body was moving by itself, trying to escape from the pain. And then there was the time for tears, and finally the time of collapse, the time of cries, tears and fervent supplications to be released. None of these times could be specified in minutes. I didn’t feel them as minutes passing, but always as static states. At some stages I would want it to always remain so, at others I wished fervently may it please-please pass, but I never had influence on it. I couldn’t help it or do anything about it. I had to accept it as it came. And precisely there lay its immense attraction for me.
Eight hours. I didn’t know exactly what that would mean for me. Six hours I was used to. In six hours I was able to experience a whole range of different sensations. It was not at all comparable to my very first crucifixions. That was what made my crucifixions so adorable, the slow breaking of my will, conquering me until I completely gave up and just cried and cried. It sounds crazy, but that's what I loved. Just to go up there, I wanted to be given to the cross. The more ruthless it was, the better it was for me. And now I would see it in the eyes of fascinated spectators. This was new. This time, the factor of shame was playing an important role. This shame added sweetness to my crucifixion, hanging in front of strangers on the cross was a bittersweet experience that was completely new to me.
It was also a kind of farewell, any more crucifixions probably won’t happen. Or? I’ll be able to visit Doro when I get a car. Yes. But will it be the same as now? Then I’ll only be able to call by occasionally, regular exercise won’t be possible. Would it ever be the same again as in this wonderful summer? Sadness came over me. It was a farewell. Maybe not forever - but a farewell. It would never be the same again as it is now. But I also felt gratitude. I was eternally grateful to fate that my cousin had caught me looking at the Drtikol photo, and I was grateful to her that she had allowed me all these glorious experiences, my secret desires had come true.
Dorothea was standing down there in the midst of the audience. The men and women were stood in a semicircle, still looking at me. Some had brought chairs. A woman with silver hair was looking up at me with a friendly smile, I could see the longing in the small wrinkles around her eyes. How old are you, silver-haired girl? Seventy? Seventy-seven? Too old to do it the same as me, but you still wish you were in my place, right? I can see it. What must it be feeling for you to see how another is achieving your own most intimate desires, and you’re just being allowed as a watch? How long have you dreamed of being tied up like me? When did it start with you? As a teenager? Or were you over thirty, when you came up with this idea? Or did it all start very early? I'll never know, and you'll never know how it feels. This experience can only be mine, dear old lady. You may have money, the rings on your fingers look like they'd cost as much as a house, you’ve been brought by a chauffeur, but more than watch me, you may not do. At your age, you couldn’t stand such strain. Only when one is young like me ....
I looked at my cousin. Doro looked pretty in her simple tunic dress, she looked so young and sweet. She was barefoot. That looked nice, so right, of course. Right medieval. Rococo feet. The toe next to the big toe was longer. Man! It’s starting to annoy me! Isn’t it utterly trivial, how long my cousin’s toes are? How long her fingers or her hair or her nose? The latter was short. Doro has a cute, turned-up little nose just like mine, the noses we’ve inherited from our mothers. And feet? I've got my mother’s hands, my fingers are long and slender, pianist’s hands someone had one said, and looked at mother's hands. She has exactly the same slender fingers. Do you also inherit feet? And from whom? I’m size 36, my mum’s 38, Aunt Annie’s 38, and so’s Doro, I knew that from joint shopping trips. I’m generally a bit bigger and stronger-built than the rest of the females in my family, but I don’t take after my father, he was a true giant. The only thing I’ve inherited from him is his copper-coloured hair. Red hair’s recessive, I know that from the biology classes, nevertheless, the colour had prevailed over Mother's dark hair - genetics can be quite complicated.
I let my eyes roam over the parquet floor. Down there were several pairs of naked feet. Not only was my cousin going barefoot, other girls and women had bare feet. I found it suited the medieval garb they were wearing, it seemed so natural, so real. But hadn’t I read that bare feet are a symbolic form of nakedness? That’s why girl pop singers go on stage with no shoes. I looked at the women in the room who weren’t wearing shoes. Were they displaying their bare feet on purpose? Was it a secret bonding with me, the poor naked girl on the cross? Women's Solidarity in secret? Are these women longing to be as naked and helpless as I am? What crazy thoughts!
Another pair of bare feet appeared beside Dorothea’s rococo ones, they seemed familiar, mainly because of the slim calves that peeked out from under the tunic. My gaze drifted higher. The girl was wearing a tunic like my cousin, only it had an interesting colour, a sort of washed-out red, faded but still bright.
When I saw the face, I experienced the shock of my life. The girl beside my cousin was tall and lanky, she towered above Doro by almost a head. Dark hair surrounded an elongated, light-skinned face with gentle eyes. I swallowed hard. Down there was the girl I’d so often tied up on the cross in my fantasies, the one who’d been flogged with me in strict boarding schools and exposed naked. Before me stood Anja Haug!
As always, time lost its importance. On the cross, it was measured in other rhythms. It was the time of the beginning, when I was full of pleasure and excitement on the cross and enjoying it, being bound, naked and helpless. There was the time when my friend, the merciless Mr. Pain came to me and began to stroke me all around. Then came the time of the slow, agonizing dance on the wood when it started to hurt so much that my body was moving by itself, trying to escape from the pain. And then there was the time for tears, and finally the time of collapse, the time of cries, tears and fervent supplications to be released. None of these times could be specified in minutes. I didn’t feel them as minutes passing, but always as static states. At some stages I would want it to always remain so, at others I wished fervently may it please-please pass, but I never had influence on it. I couldn’t help it or do anything about it. I had to accept it as it came. And precisely there lay its immense attraction for me.
Eight hours. I didn’t know exactly what that would mean for me. Six hours I was used to. In six hours I was able to experience a whole range of different sensations. It was not at all comparable to my very first crucifixions. That was what made my crucifixions so adorable, the slow breaking of my will, conquering me until I completely gave up and just cried and cried. It sounds crazy, but that's what I loved. Just to go up there, I wanted to be given to the cross. The more ruthless it was, the better it was for me. And now I would see it in the eyes of fascinated spectators. This was new. This time, the factor of shame was playing an important role. This shame added sweetness to my crucifixion, hanging in front of strangers on the cross was a bittersweet experience that was completely new to me.
It was also a kind of farewell, any more crucifixions probably won’t happen. Or? I’ll be able to visit Doro when I get a car. Yes. But will it be the same as now? Then I’ll only be able to call by occasionally, regular exercise won’t be possible. Would it ever be the same again as in this wonderful summer? Sadness came over me. It was a farewell. Maybe not forever - but a farewell. It would never be the same again as it is now. But I also felt gratitude. I was eternally grateful to fate that my cousin had caught me looking at the Drtikol photo, and I was grateful to her that she had allowed me all these glorious experiences, my secret desires had come true.
Dorothea was standing down there in the midst of the audience. The men and women were stood in a semicircle, still looking at me. Some had brought chairs. A woman with silver hair was looking up at me with a friendly smile, I could see the longing in the small wrinkles around her eyes. How old are you, silver-haired girl? Seventy? Seventy-seven? Too old to do it the same as me, but you still wish you were in my place, right? I can see it. What must it be feeling for you to see how another is achieving your own most intimate desires, and you’re just being allowed as a watch? How long have you dreamed of being tied up like me? When did it start with you? As a teenager? Or were you over thirty, when you came up with this idea? Or did it all start very early? I'll never know, and you'll never know how it feels. This experience can only be mine, dear old lady. You may have money, the rings on your fingers look like they'd cost as much as a house, you’ve been brought by a chauffeur, but more than watch me, you may not do. At your age, you couldn’t stand such strain. Only when one is young like me ....
I looked at my cousin. Doro looked pretty in her simple tunic dress, she looked so young and sweet. She was barefoot. That looked nice, so right, of course. Right medieval. Rococo feet. The toe next to the big toe was longer. Man! It’s starting to annoy me! Isn’t it utterly trivial, how long my cousin’s toes are? How long her fingers or her hair or her nose? The latter was short. Doro has a cute, turned-up little nose just like mine, the noses we’ve inherited from our mothers. And feet? I've got my mother’s hands, my fingers are long and slender, pianist’s hands someone had one said, and looked at mother's hands. She has exactly the same slender fingers. Do you also inherit feet? And from whom? I’m size 36, my mum’s 38, Aunt Annie’s 38, and so’s Doro, I knew that from joint shopping trips. I’m generally a bit bigger and stronger-built than the rest of the females in my family, but I don’t take after my father, he was a true giant. The only thing I’ve inherited from him is his copper-coloured hair. Red hair’s recessive, I know that from the biology classes, nevertheless, the colour had prevailed over Mother's dark hair - genetics can be quite complicated.
I let my eyes roam over the parquet floor. Down there were several pairs of naked feet. Not only was my cousin going barefoot, other girls and women had bare feet. I found it suited the medieval garb they were wearing, it seemed so natural, so real. But hadn’t I read that bare feet are a symbolic form of nakedness? That’s why girl pop singers go on stage with no shoes. I looked at the women in the room who weren’t wearing shoes. Were they displaying their bare feet on purpose? Was it a secret bonding with me, the poor naked girl on the cross? Women's Solidarity in secret? Are these women longing to be as naked and helpless as I am? What crazy thoughts!
Another pair of bare feet appeared beside Dorothea’s rococo ones, they seemed familiar, mainly because of the slim calves that peeked out from under the tunic. My gaze drifted higher. The girl was wearing a tunic like my cousin, only it had an interesting colour, a sort of washed-out red, faded but still bright.
When I saw the face, I experienced the shock of my life. The girl beside my cousin was tall and lanky, she towered above Doro by almost a head. Dark hair surrounded an elongated, light-skinned face with gentle eyes. I swallowed hard. Down there was the girl I’d so often tied up on the cross in my fantasies, the one who’d been flogged with me in strict boarding schools and exposed naked. Before me stood Anja Haug!