The Girl With No Name

[Eulalia]

6 Beating on the soles of the feet

In the house I had to go into the living room. "Lie down there on your stomach," commanded Dorothea, "now you’ll get what you have written, sixty lashes on the bare soles of your feet." I looked at the base as I lay on the sofa. It seemed pretty solid, as if one could be hammered on it really cruelly. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to cope with it. On the other hand, I tingled mightily between my thighs when I simply thought of it, was a strange, prickly feeling.

I was lying face down on the sofa. Dorothea grabbed my ankles and pulled them until they were on top of the backrest. Thus my feet hung over the back and my soles were turned obliquely backwards and upwards. She picked up a rope, clasped my right ankle, wound the rope twice round it and tied a knot. Then she stretched out a good foot of the rope, then tied my left ankle. From both sides hung the loose ends, she moved these to left and right, downwards at an angle, and knotted them to the feet of the couch. Thus my feet were held a foot apart on the backrest, my bare soles presented defenceless. "And now your arms, Lisette." Dorothea took another rope and told me to put my forearms together. This type of bondage seemed to have been taught to her. Again she tied me in a very determined way, exactly as she’d done in the workshop.

"This will have to do for now," she said, "I’m not really satisfied with these restraints, I’ll need to come up with something else, but it’ll be enough for your first foot-whipping." Foot-whipping! How it sounded! Foot-whipping! She hadn’t even got a whip. A little voice in my head awoke, "You could just get a tickling, or... let's see!" I swallowed, already the expectation of the stick was so strong. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as my cousin the fetched it from the table. She stood behind me. I tensed myself in the ropes in anticipation of the first blows. Would it hurt? And if so, how much? Unbearably? Would I start to cry? Would I cry? Howl like a banshee?”

Bash! There was a knock on my left foot, I cringed, nothing more, I’d felt it, but it hadn’t really hurt. Bash! On my right foot. Dorothea paused, then hit me again on the bare feet. A little sharper this time. I stood firm. If it was all like this, I’d absorb the sixty blows easily. Doro hit me again, this time she took care to seek out her target, and hit much harder. I let out a gasp and bit my lip. My feet were twitching, I’d felt it, and how! Dorothea struck again, hard enough, and this time she gave me several blows in quick succession. I gasped loudly and tugged at the bonds that held my feet. I tried to pull my them to safety, Doro was still beating them violently. There was a loud clap each time the stick hit my feet. "Ow!" I cried, fidgetting with my feet. Heaven, that hurt!

Dorothea stopped beating me, she paused and looked at me, interested. "You felt that, didn’t you?” she asked. "Yes," I replied. At once I got two solid blows, so that I cried out - "Yes, Dorothea," I hastened to say. A break. A long one. So long that I started to get nervous. That was naturally Doro’s intention. She caned me again. This time she gave me the shocks at a slower pace but precisely timed. She hit me on the ball of the foot and then on the trough behind it. She was aiming very precisely. The stick literally popped each time it met my unprotected soles. I drew a sharp breath, I winced, gasped, gritted my teeth. But I didn’t scream.

Shock followed shock. Dorothea counted aloud. I’d had only just over thirty, there was still a long way ahead of me. Each blow felt a little more painful to me. Because Dorothea was keeping up a uniform rhythm, the pain between the individual blows never really eased off, it gradually increased.I began to whine, I didn’t want to, I ground my teeth together, but sounds of pain came repeatedly from me, small yelps and moans. Dorothea was counting like an automaton as she hit me, I was wishing desperately that it would stop, at least for a few seconds, I just wanted time to absorb the pain and allow it to subside. She wouldn’t let me, Dorothea was in control of me, she was forcing me to obey her clock. I was squirming in the bondage and my feet jerked with each blow.

"And now the last ten," cried Dorothy, "la pièce de resistance!" She hit me harder, I bucked and gasped loudly. I counted each hit inside me, each one was a little sharper and hurt more than thelast. Again and again soft screams came out from me. I winced and writhed and fought with all my strength against my bonds. Heaven, did it hurt! I felt tears welling. No! No!!! I won’t cry! I don’t want to! Eight! Nine! And one last solid hit on the left sole, ten!

Bout over! Breathing heavily, I collapsed in myself, my feet were throbbing, I was aching. I’d groaned, but I hadn’t wept, I’d managed to keep the tears back. I was proud, proud to have borne it. It hurt, and yet it felt somehow fine, very good indeed! I was glad that my cousin had beaten me so severely. Crazy world!

 

[Eulalia]

I gradually calmed down. Dorothea freed me from my bondage. She turned me around and sat me down on the sofa. She sat down at my feet and took them in her hands, gently stroking and rubbing them."Did it hurt a lot?" she wanted to know, I nodded, "Yes, Dorothea, very much, but I could stand it...somehow. In the end I almost started crying, but I managed to hold back the tears." She looked at me. "I didn’t know exactly how much I could inflict on you, Lisette. I had to get to your pain threshold. To begin with, it wasn’t enough,right?" I nodded. "I was taking taking great care," said my cousin, "if I gave you very solid single strokes, you screamed sometimes – just quietly - and wriggled your feet. You took in the pain and waited until it was absorbed." She rubbed my maltreated soles. "It was very different when I hit faster,then pain the pain climaxed, right?" I nodded silently. "I noticed it," she said. "the rate of beating shouldn’t be too fast, but it shouldn’t leave you enough time to cope with the pain and detach yourself from it. I have to keep up a steady rhythm,and increase the strength of the shocks gradually. so you get softened up, Lisette."

She stroked my bare feet and looked deep into my eyes. "We’ll increase it, will be effective training. You’ll have to get used to a lot of beating and suchlike cruelties. But it each time it will just be a little bit harder. You will learn to tolerate it. Some day I’ll hit you so hard that you won’t be able to hold back your tears any longer. You'll cry, Lisette and you'ill be begging for mercy – which will not be granted you. You will endure to the end, no matter how much it hurts. Do you understand?" My heart was beating up into my throat," Yes., Dorothea!" My voice was hoarse with excitement.

"I consider all these additional treatments just as important as your training on the cross," said Dorothy, "I intend you to undergo a rigorously planned course of training. It's important that you remain all the time under discipline, it must not be relaxed all day long. You’ll have to go through it every day. At most, there may be some ease on Sundays when mother’s here, but even then I'll think of something, Lisette, you can be sure of it - I won’t let you go, I'm going take control of you every single day." I was quite different when listening to her now. A day or two ago, it would surely have outraged me, instead, I agreed heartily, I wanted her to make me do this. I’d been a little afraid before, but I now I absolutely wanted to experience it.

"Wait here, I'll be right back" Dorothea rose and left the room. I sat with my hands still tied behind my backon the couch.After a few minutes Doro returned. She had a small rucksack and a chain. I recognised it, Dorothea’s mother’s hanging baskets on the terrace hang on chains like that."Get up Lisette!" I rose obediently. Dorothea took me underthe lamp. She put the chain around my hips and pulled it tightly. She joined two chain links together in front, so it became a very tight, strong belt in the form of a slender metal chain. A length of a chain hung down in front dangling between my legs. It didn’t stay dangling for long, Doro pulled up the end and tugged it between my legs from behind, then hauled it up. I yelped as the cold metal touched my sensitive slit. She pulled the chain tight and connected it firmly to the back. Now the chain ran through my pussy to my arse, it was very tight, cutting into me, I felt it most acutely.

Dorothea stood in front of me. "You know what, Lisette? We’d better go shopping now. Mummy needs a few things from the supermarket." I stared at my cousin. Must I go with her I like this? With my hands tied??" That would be really nice," she said, as if she had read my thoughts. She turned me round and fiddled with the bonds. "I’d like to take you to the supermarket tied like this." My heart almost stopped as she said that, what an idea! "What a shame that wouldn’t work," said Dorothea embracing me from behind. Her hands slipped under my blouse and felt up my belly to my breasts. She started to fondle my breasts, instantly my nipples were hard. She held them on both sides with thumbs and index fingers. Suddenly she pressed very hard, I winced as if at a whiplash. "There’s something else," she growled, sounding disgruntled,"I’ll have to look on the Internet later...." She pulled her hands out of my blouse. Then she untied my arm-bondage. "Sorry ...." she said, "sorry, sorry ...." She grabbed the rope and put it in the backpack, which she handed me. "Take it,Lisette." I obeyed. She reached under my skirt. Her fingers groped for the chain in my cunt. "Nice and tight, that’s how it should be." She smiled at me. "Now we’ll go shopping, Lisette, you can stay as youare."

I couldn’t believe it – so I’ll have to go with her into the supermarket like this, barefoot and without panties? With a chain between my legs running through and cutting deep into my most sensitive nook of flesh? She cannot be serious! And why had she put the rope in the backpack? Dorothea gave me a nudge, "Come on Lisette, we’re going shopping!"

 

[Eulalia]

7 Barefoot and bare-pussy on tour

We left the house. I was wearing a small backpack, but I no shoes and no panties. I was nervous every moment, oh what I have I got myself into? "Doro, can we go home?" I said. "But we have shopping to buy," said my cousin all innocently, "Mum needs the stuff, Lisette." "Yes," I admitted. We turned up on the main street, there was a surprising lot of people there... "We could come back later, when I’ve .... " "When what, Lisette?" Dorothea looked askance at me. "You know exactly what I mean," I hissed desperately, "People, Doro! If someone were to see!" "See what, Lisette?" For her tone I could have strangled her.

I began to curse myself for me getting into her games. Not only that, I was nervous, I was going through a hell of anxiety. No-one could tell I was wearing nothing underneath my skirt. No, it was the darned chain I worried about, affecting my walk. It was so perfectly tight that with every step I made, I was gently but strongly massaged. I was excited and my cheeks were turning red because of this. My breath getting uncontrollably faster. Here I am on the main road in the middle of the village, I was thinking. Just the thought was enough to turn me red. Could I be red? Was it just my imagination? I’m turning red, I'm going red, redder than red, red, redder, reddest. How red is reddest? Bright red? Fire red? Glowing red? Blood red?

"Good day, Lisette." I was catapulted out of my thoughts into the rough, stark reality. Oh cruel world, Frau Holle’s standing in front of us! "Are you back here visiting Annie and Dorothea?" Frau Holle was in reality Mrs Hollmann, she lived in a house at the other end of the village and every morning she shook the bedclothes from her window. Dorothea and I had called Frau Holle a fathead ever since we were young, because, though she was ever so kind, she lacked a certain degree of common sense. Was I visiting Aunt Annie and Doro? Stupid question! What did she think I was doing? I’d just come for a short break, I’d earned myself a bit of money during the holidays at the gas station in the city. There I pumped the fuel. Grrr! Why do people always keep asking such silly questions?

But I found myself in a situation that I wanted to keep as well-hidden as possible, so I nodded, behaved myself and said politely, "Yes." "That's nice," said Frau Holle with a smile, “A city girl, you must come away once a year, out of the hustle and bustle of the noisy streets." She looked at my bare feet, her smile widened, "You’ve already become a country kid, you always transform yourself quite quickly, my dear. Your clothes are already no longer – what shall I say say – urban!" Oh, when the hell will she stop! Shall I tell you what, Mrs. Holle? One floor up, I'm also bare, no really! Don’t be red, Lisette! Not red!!! I was blushing, flame red, bright red, firework-blood-soaked-poppy-flower-red! (Knallfeuerblutklatschmohnblütenrot ) .

Doro saved me. She started a conversation with Frau Holle and distracted her from me. Once again I got breath and no longer looked like a tomato with a copper-colored wig. For some minutes she chatted with Frau Holle, her husband had had problems with his bad knee, and his high blood pressure hadn't got any better either. But everything else was fine, just two years, then he would retire and they’d be able to enjoy life.

Finally we were released and I staggered on to the supermarket. "By all the gods of Olympus," said I with a shaky voice. Dorothea looked at me with a wink, "You’re pretending amazingly well, cousin." What did she mean? I gave her a questioning look. "Don’t be so innocent," she said, "don’t try that! You aren’t kidding me. Last year you did it on purpose!” She grinned when she saw my look of surprise. "Yes, Mum noticed! She asked me if you might not have brought enough panties, or you weren’t changing them often enough, as they weren’t turning up in the washing machine. She noticed especially how you went out shopping without them, lovely Lisette" Doros grin widened, "Oh yes, I remember."

I was speechless. Aunt Annie had twigged? By all the Gods of Olympus! I’d done it three times, just like that, because I’d liked the feeling and I thought, in a village it wouldn’t be noticed. At home, I hadn’t dared. Martina Gotz and her best friend Lena Rieger had told me one morning shortly before the summer holidays that the previous afternoon they’d been into town without panties, in skirts of course. The thought hadn’t let go of me here in the village, and I’d finally tried it. Goddess! Aunt Annie had twigged?? Let the ground open under me! I want to sink into you! Never again will I do it! Woe!!!

We got to the supermarket, a small store that hardly deserved the name. Inside, I padded barefoot across the smooth floor and followed Dorothea like a puppy. I didn’t notice much what she bought, and when she spoke with someone I was standing by like I was stupid and spoke only when I was asked a question. The floor in front of the refrigerated counter was nice and cool under my maltreated soles. That was pleasant. I didn’t notice anything else.

On the way back we went outside Spuhl around the “by-pass”, it was just a wide dirt road that led around the village. We took several turnings, and then we were out in the fields. It wasn’t a big detour and I was glad not to have to be conscious of people. Even so I was agitated enough. I was still worrying about the chain in my groin, it kept pulling and massaging me gently. It rubbed at my most vulnerable point and gave me feelings that belong in a secret closet, but not in the middle of the street. I was so wet that I was starting to drip. I looked at my cousin. How did she know of this special pussy-bondage? Had it just occurred to her spontaneously? Or had she carried out a test on herself? I decided to keep that to myself for now - what experiences I could enjoy with a chain in my secret parts, how I might use it at home. With the chain I would be able to get myself into enjoyable states that I could easily create for myself. Oh, how I liked the way this chain was tormenting my furrow so sweetly!

 

[thehangingtree]

naughty, Eul

Tree

 

[Eulalia]

"Ow!" The path that had so far been quite sandy transformed into a gravel road. How mean! My feet were still hurting from their beating! "Ouch!" I began to wobble about. "What do you think you’re doing?" said Dorothea, "don’t stagger about so! People will think you're drunk!" "It’s all very well for you," I muttered, "you’ve got shoes on your feet - and undies under your skirt!” "Just imagine, on your right and left there are people who want to watch as you stride straight ahead, tripping like a barefoot elf, "said Dorothy," hold yourself up straight, shoulders back, chest out!" I reached out to hold my balance. "Ow!" I wobbled like a chimp. "That’s nothing," said Dorothea, "stay where you are." She fumbled in the pack on my back around and pulled out the rope. "Hands behind your back!" "Doro" I squeaked in alarm. "We’re out here in the middle of the country!” Why bother to argue with her? I could go on saying no for ever - but the little devil in my head had started giggling and saying, "Go on, Lisette! Bondage, restraints! Beauuuuuuuuuuuuutiful!" "We’re on a farm track and you’re rolling around like a drunk," answered Dorothea, "hands behind your back, Lisette!"

I swallowed hard. Bondage? Here?? I was shocked, but excited too. The chain in my slit had heated me up mightily, I was wavering between fear and consent. I didn’t want, I did want to be tied up, I wanted, yes of course I wanted to be tied up... but not here, out here. And how! No way! No, no and again .... maybe! "Lisette," Dorothy repeated, waving the rope. Finally I surrendered and crossed my wrists behind my back, directly under the small backpack. Dorothee captured me. O ye gods! I must be mad, do let her do that to me! She gave me a push, "Come on, Lisette. run properly, straight ahead. Chin up and chest out. Show the audience what they want to see, an elfin princess with contempt of death trips along on the gravel... no, it doesn’t work, she falls..." Contempt of death – that’s good! I was suffering the tortures of Tartarus on the dirt road, though completely innocent. I hadn’t cooked my son and served him up to the gods in a stew, or even made what Demeter thought was just organic bread and wasn’t aware she was eating her son’s boiled shoulder. O what terrible atrocities!

Now that Dorothea had tied my hands I could no longer use my arms to balance – quite the opposite! Now I had - whether I liked it or not – to proceed straight ahead as if the finest silt of the Rhine were under my bare soles and not this terrible sharp, angular grit! I couldn’t afford to wobble around, the risk of tripping and landing with my unprotected face on the gravel, was much too great. Doro, you monster! Doro, you evil, cunning witch! The gods should dry up your boobs! They ought to make your body as barren as threshed straw. May Zeus punish you and turn into a linnet for some bird-eater in Italy to catch you and fry you! (It doesn’t have to be a sparrow?!) She’d known exactly what she was doing - how? Was it intuition or experience? I didn’t know, I only knew one thing, I had to go through with it.

I set off slowly and picked my way across the gravel as if it were nothing. My feet were hurting, hurting very much, it really was torture. My hands were tied under my backpack, I was naked upskirt and moreover had a metal chain tugging between my legs, torturing me deliciously with every step. I had to walk erect, firstly so as to prevent the chain from pulling to tightly, because that would hurt rather more than would feel good, and secondly to maintain my balance while my poor bare feet on the gravel suffered the torture of the century. I really had to suppress squeals of pain violently. Had Dorothea not previously thrashed my soles, it might have been endurable, but my feet were already "softened up" and now they were being subjected to new, cruel torture.

But the absolutely crazy thing was that it was fun! I thought of all those fantasies I’d had since I was thirteen or fourteen. I’d imagined being educated in a home for delinquent girls, that might have been tough to endure, but there was a sky-high difference - imagine having to march about on sharp gravel and feel it in reality! I was suffering, yet at the same time the chain excited me in step with every metre I paced out. I’d managed so far to suppress any sounds of pain, it felt just as difficult for me to keep back sounds of pleasure! My breathing became heavier and wilder, a low moan kept slipping out. "You see, you can do it," Dorothea praised me with a smile, "You sound really cute with your little squeals, in spite of the pain, Lisette. The chain’s helping, isn’t it?" I said nothing, but she smiled knowingly.

 

[Eulalia]

"This morning you’ll also endure your cruxing," she continued, "after this, we should make it three-quarters of an hour, what do you think?" I agreed immediately, I wanted to work through longer times. I wondered about spending several hours on the cross, whether it would be possible? Two or three hours had to be to my target. Of course it would hurt as the time went on, even severely, but once I was tied up, I had to cope with it - that was the beauty of it, being compelled to bear it by an external force beyond my control. But how many hours? How soon would I suffer with cramps? I didn’t know. Although I had searched the internet for descriptions and research on so-called permanent bondage, I quickly found that most of the authors were fantasising, and most of the reports were simply faked.

I couldn’t think properly about the matter, I was much too excited and nervous. All the time I was looking out for walkers. O goddess, if someone saw me like that, tied up! Then there’d only need need to be the proverbial gust of wind for my skirt to be lifted and my wicked little secret recealed! Oh, yes, Dorothea was right, last year I’d tried it - what they didn’t know was that I’d nearly died with excitement and terror!

When we finally arrived at the Flörke’s house, I was in danger of a heart attack from excitement. The chain, that terrible chain in my furrow had worked its magic! Oh, it made me feel how sensitive I was down there, and how! As Doro took it off, she felt my wet heat. "You’ve increased your metabolic rate quite a bit being outside, haven’t you?" she asked, her fingers around my clit. I stood still, I couldn’t resist, apart from anything else, I was on the verge of an explosive climax. Also my hands were still tied behind my back. I had no choice, I had to submit to my cousin. I held reverently silent, setting my feet a bit further apart to give her better access, and let her stroke me. She went on, feeling her finger set my pussy on fire.

Directly I’m going to the cross, I was thinking, full of anticipation and excitement. I’m to be crucified, I'll be the girl with no name! I’m going to the cross, I’m going to experience it, I .... I started to moan, I couldn’t suppress it any longer, then I came out with little yelps of delight. Only now did Dorothea free me from the wrist-bonds. "Now we’ll bring the shopping into the house and get something to eat," she said cheerfully, "then you’ll have your second crucifixion for today, three quarters of an hour - as agreed."


8 It hurts for the first time

We went straight to her grandfather’s workshop. I stopped before the Cross and gazed at it. Still he lay there, he had infinite patience, he was waiting for me, he would always be there for me, all through the long holiday. Dorothea pulled off my backpack, put it away and hugged me from behind, her head on my left shoulder. "You’re gazing at it yourself." I nodded. She stroked my right hand, I shook my head. "Are you afraid?" "I’ve no fear, quite the contrary – I’m looking forward to it. It’s great the way you’re helping me, giving me all this training. I'm curious to see how it will be when I have to remain on the cross with the time getting ever longer." "It's hard, Lisette," Doro’s voice was very soft, "you'll suffer."

A sensuous shiver ran down my spine, suffer! What an expression! "You'll wish you hadn’t consented to it, you will experience every sort of feeling,” continued my cousin, "pain, fear, anger, helplessness." She squeezed my hand, playing with my fingers, "yes anger, Lisette. Maybe you'll yell at me when I refuse to release you before you’ve gone through whatever we agreed on. If you're suffering such terrible agony on the cross that the pain is unbearable, you’ll maybe curse me, insult me. You'll be completely helpless, Lisette. You won’t be able to do anything at all once you’re bound, you can only endure, even if it’s absolutely unbearable. "

My heart began to pound, her words excited me beyond measure. Did Dorothea notice that? Her hand left mine and slipped down between my thighs, where I was still naked. Her fingers stroked infinitely gently and tenderly. I started to burst into flames, “Oh, no Doro! Doro, don’t!” Doro stopped immediately. “No, go on! Doro! Don’t you dare! Will you… well .... keep going!” I was wet as I’d never been before, I had no control.

"You'll see things like no-one before," continued my cousin, while she stroked me gently, "feeling sensations that can’t be imagined - the anger, the fury, the helplessness as well, and, above all, the pain! He will come to you, Lisette, like a faithful dog he’s waiting for you here on the cross, wagging his tail. As soon as you’re crucified, he won’t be one second away from your soft side. Like a cat he’ll be prowling around you, touching you everywhere, filling your body with pain. It will become increasingly difficult. Three quarters of an hour. What then? An hour? Two? How many hours you will endure, Lisette? When are you going to say for the first time, I can’t take any more?" Her finger penetrated me! I drew in a sharp breath. "I can’t take any more!" she repeated. She kissed me on the cheek, "But you WILL take it, Lisette - is that clear to you? Because you’ll be bound, because you won’t be able to get free, even if it’s unbearable - no matter how terrible it is, you're going to stay up there to the very end!"

 

[Barbaria1]

"This morning you’ll also endure your cruxing," she continued, "after this, we should make it three-quarters of an hour, what do you think?" I agreed immediately, I wanted to work through longer times. I wondered about spending several hours on the cross, whether it would be possible? Two or three hours had to be to my target. Of course it would hurt as the time went on, even severely, but once I was tied up, I had to cope with it - that was the beauty of it, being compelled to bear it by an external force beyond my control. But how many hours? How soon would I suffer with cramps? I didn’t know. Although I had searched the internet for descriptions and research on so-called permanent bondage, I quickly found that most of the authors were fantasising, and most of the reports were simply faked.

I couldn’t think properly about the matter, I was much too excited and nervous. All the time I was looking out for walkers. O goddess, if someone saw me like that, tied up! Then there’d only need need to be the proverbial gust of wind for my skirt to be lifted and my wicked little secret recealed! Oh, yes, Dorothea was right, last year I’d tried it - what they didn’t know was that I’d nearly died with excitement and terror!

When we finally arrived at the Flörke’s house, I was in danger of a heart attack from excitement. The chain, that terrible chain in my furrow had worked it's magic! Oh, it made me feel how sensitive I was down there, and how! As Doro took it off, she felt my wet heat. "You’ve increased your metabolic rate quite a bit being outside, haven’t you?" she asked, her fingers around my clit. I stood still, I couldn’t resist, apart from anything else, I was on the verge of an explosive climax. Also my hands were still tied behind my back. I had no choice, I had to submit to my cousin. I held reverently silent, setting my feet a bit further apart to give her better access, and let her stroke me. She went on, feeling her finger set my pussy on fire.

Directly I’m going to the cross, I was thinking, full of anticipation and excitement. I’m to be crucified, I'll be the girl with no name! I’m going to the cross, I’m going to experience it, I .... I started to moan, I couldn’t suppress it any longer, then I came out with little yelps of delight. Only now did Dorothea free me from the wrist-bonds. "Now we’ll bring the shopping into the house and get something to eat," she said cheerfully, "then you’ll have your second crucifixion for today, three quarters of an hour - as agreed." I still hurt from the first time. We went straight to her grandfather’s workshop. I stopped before the Cross and gazed at it. Still he lay there, he had infinite patience, he was waiting for me, he would always be there for me, all through the long holiday. Dorothee pulled off my backpack, put it away and hugged me from behind, her head on my left shoulder. "You’re gazing at it yourself." I nodded. She stroked my right hand, I shook my head. "Are you afraid?" "I’ve no fear, quite the contrary – I’m looking forward to it. It’s great the way you’re helping me, giving me all this training. I'm curious to see how it will be when I have to remain on the cross with the time getting ever longer." "It's hard, Lisette," Doro’s voice was very soft, "you'll suffer."

A sensuous shiver ran down my spine, suffer! What an expression! "You'll wish you hadn’t consented to it, you will experience every sort of feeling,” continued my cousin, "pain, fear, anger, helplessness." She squeezed my hand, playing with my fingers, "yes anger, Lisette. Maybe you'll yell at me when I refuse to release you before you’ve gone through whatever we agreed on. If you're suffering such terrible agony on the cross that the pain is unbearable, you’ll maybe curse me, insult me. You'll be completely helpless, Lisette. You won’t be able to do anything at all once you’re bound, you can only endure, even if it’s absolutely unbearable. "

My heart began to pound, her words excited me beyond measure. Did Dorothea notice that? Her hand left mine and slipped down between my thighs, where I was still naked. Her fingers stroked infinitely gently and tenderly. I started to burst into flames, “Oh, no Doro! Doro, don’t!” Doro stopped immediately. “No, go on! Doro! Don’t you dare! Will you… well .... keep going!” I was wet as I’d never been before, I had no control.

"You'll see things like no-one before," continued my cousin, while she stroked me gently, "feeling sensations that can’t be imagined - the anger, the fury, the helplessness as well, and, above all, the pain! He will come to you, Lisette, like a faithful dog he’s waiting for you here on the cross, wagging his tail. As soon as you’re crucified, he won’t be one second away from of your soft side. Like a cat he’ll be prowling around you, touching you everywhere, filling your body with pain. It will become increasingly difficult. Three quarters of an hour. What then? An hour? Two? How many hours you will endure, Lisette? When are you going to say for the first time, I can’t take any more?" Her finger penetrated me! I drew in a sharp breath. "I can’t take any more!" she repeated. She kissed me on the cheek, "But you WILL take it, Lisette - is that clear to you? Because you’ll be bound, because you won’t be able to get free, even if it’s unbearable - no matter how terrible it is, you're going to stay up there to the very end!"

All I can say is ......WOW !!!!!!!

 

[thehangingtree]

All I can say is ......WOW !!!!!!!

ditto that...

...love the anticipation. And has Doro really done it herself???

tree

 

[Wragg]

It is one compelling story...

 

[Eulalia]

Some fun but tricky bits in this piece, especially a string of nonsense-words involving German bird-names, I've tried to convey the idea....

I squirmed on her hand. Thoughts were running around in my head like nimble mice. What she’d said had driven me simply crazy - have to take it, have to, even if it’s unbearable- yes! I want it! I want to be forced to endure it, even against my will. How would it feel for first time? If .... For a moment all my thoughts were racing like dogs who’d heard a sharp whistle .... if my will were broken? Would that happen? If it breaks, what would it trigger inside me? Disgust? Shame? Fear? Would never again dare go on the cross? Would I feel raped, destroyed, finished? Or I would be strong and brave? Or flexible, humble, small and gentle? Very tender? Always, again and again? The thoughts in me .... so many thoughts ....

Dorothea stopped caressing me, I missed it very much, oh just do it again! I pleaded silently, but I knew she wouldn’t. I began to undress myself, I took off my clothes, I stripped naked, totally nude. As I did, it occurred to me that I was taking off more than my clothes, I was shedding a part of me that covered and hid everything. What emerged was a girl who was willing to go naked on to the cross, to hang there and be compelled to endure pain, however terrible - unbearable, Lisette, unbearable! Dorothea took my things from me, folded each garment neatly and deposited it on her painting table. Naked, I lay on my back and spread my arms,ready. She tied my wrists with the ropes, a great serenity overcame me, I was a captive, now there was no turning back. I had to endure it, even if it was unendurable - what a thought!

Dorothea startled me out of my reverie, "What have you been doing with your feet? Have you been walking in the coal cellar? Raven black soles!" I lifted one leg and flexed it. Indeed, where my sole had contacted the ground, it was discoloured, midnight black. My cousin ran her fingertips over my soles, "And quite sandy. No my dear, that will not do, you can’t go up on the cross as dirty as a pig. Being crucified means being innocent, unspotted." How she spoke! Alas, but my dear cousin had to clean my dirty feet. She disappeared briefly and returned with a bucketful of water, a scrubbing-brush in her hand, "This’ ll get you clean!" Suspiciously I eyed the brush. Oooh! Something tweeted in me, or quacked in me? Something clucked in me? Something whistled in me? Where did these stupid expressions come from? I swan-songed something! Why not cock-crowed something? Why didn’t something goose-hiss me? Something tweeted in me, something chirruped in me, something twittered in me, something dawn-chorused me…

No, Doro! I don’t want that! I want.... She started to scour my dirty soles with the wetted brush. It came, what was to come. It tickled so terribly that I started to squeal like a pig. I wriggled on the cross and screamed out loud. Mercilessly Doro scrubbed me on the feet. No. No! No !!! Nooooooooooooooo!!! Tick-tock-bad granny! Tick-tock-grandma stop! It was like when I was little and when we paid a visit to great-grandma. She lived in the village and had a huge garden where little Lisette could play barefoot. In the evening my feet were dirty. Especially bad was the "green blood of the grass," as she called it. If you spend hours racing about over her orchard-lawn, your soles were green, green as grass. Then tick-tock-grandma insisted on washing my feet. "You don’t go to bed with dirty feet in my house, Lisette," she said every time. Tick-tock-grandma, great-grandmother. For me she was granny with the grandmother clock, and a clock was just a tick-tock, so she was my tick-tock-grandma.

Actually, she’d have been using a block of carbolic soap. Granny had to rub my hypersensitive soles! Oh how I squealed when my feet were tormented with that soap-bar! Every night the terrible torture. Squeak! Scrub, scrub, squeak! Now I was a few years older, but still just as sensitive. I struggled with my feet and squealed and screeched as Dorothea brushed my soles clean. I laughed and cried, it was ghastly. Screech-scrub! Scrub-screech! Scrub-fidget-fidget-squeak! At last she was finished. She grinned at me, "I shall gag you if I do that again." I looked wide-eyed at her. Gagging ?! "You should also be tied up, so you can’t thrash about with your legs, my lovely." I swallowed, it didn’t feel lovely! Forget it, Doro! She dried my feet with a small towel and tied them firmly on the foot-rest. I was happy, my sensitive soles were out of her reach, protected by the oblique wooden block on which they were pressing. Ah!

 

[Barbaria1]

Some fun but tricky bits in this piece, especially a string of nonsense-words involving German bird-names, I've tried to convey the idea....

I squirmed on her hand. Thoughts were running around in my head like nimble mice. What she’d said had driven me simply crazy - have to take it, have to, even if it’s unbearable- yes! I want it! I want to be forced to endure it, even against my will. How would it feel for first time? If .... For a moment all my thoughts were racing like dogs who’d heard a sharp whistle .... if my will were broken? Would that happen? If it breaks, what would it trigger inside me? Disgust? Shame? Fear? Would never again dare go on the cross? Would I feel raped, destroyed, finished? Or I would be strong and brave? Or flexible, humble, small and gentle? Very tender? Always, again and again? The thoughts in me .... so many thoughts ....

Dorothea stopped caressing me, I missed it very much, oh just do it again! I pleaded silently, but I knew she wouldn’t. I began to undress myself, I took off my clothes, I stripped naked, totally nude. As I did, it occurred to me that I was taking off more than my clothes, I was shedding a part of me that covered and hid everything. What emerged was a girl who was willing to go naked on to the cross, to hang there and be compelled to endure pain, however terrible - unbearable, Lisette, unbearable! Dorothea took my things from me, folded each garment neatly and deposited it on her painting table. Naked, I lay on my back and spread my arms,ready. She tied my wrists with the ropes, a great serenity overcame me, I was a captive, now there was no turning back. I had to endure it, even if it was unendurable - what a thought!

Dorothea startled me out of my reverie, "What have you been doing with your feet? Have you been walking in the coal cellar? Raven black soles!" I lifted one leg and flexed it. Indeed, where my sole had contacted the ground, it was discoloured, midnight black. My cousin ran her fingertips over my soles, "And quite sandy. No my dear, that will not do, you can’t go up on the cross as dirty as a pig. Being crucified means being innocent, unspotted." How she spoke! Alas, but my dear cousin had to clean my dirty feet. She disappeared briefly and returned with a bucketful of water, a scrubbing-brush in her hand, "This’ ll get you clean!" Suspiciously I eyed the brush. Oooh! Something tweeted in me, or quacked in me? Something clucked in me? Something whistled in me? Where did these stupid expressions come from? I swan-songed something! Why not cock-crowed something? Why didn’t something goose-hiss me? Something tweeted in me, something chirruped in me, something twittered in me, something dawn-chorused me…

No, Doro! I don’t want that! I want.... She started to scour my dirty soles with the wetted brush. It came, what was to come. It tickled so terribly that I started to squeal like a pig. I wriggled on the cross and screamed out loud. Mercilessly Doro scrubbed me on the feet. No. No! No !!! Nooooooooooooooo!!! Tick-tock-bad granny! Tick-tock-grandma stop! It was like when I was little and when we paid a visit to great-grandma. She lived in the village and had a huge garden where little Lisette could play barefoot. In the evening my feet were dirty. Especially bad was the "green blood of the grass," as she called it. If you spend hours racing about over her orchard-lawn, your soles were green, green as grass. Then tick-tock-grandma insisted on washing my feet. "You don’t go to bed with dirty feet in my house, Lisette," she said every time. Tick-tock-grandma, great-grandmother. For me she was granny with the grandmother clock, and a clock was just a tick-tock, so she was my tick-tock-grandma.

Actually, she’d have been using a block of carbolic soap. Granny had to rub my hypersensitive soles! Oh how I squealed when my feet were tormented with that soap-bar! Every night the terrible torture. Squeak! Scrub, scrub, squeak! Now I was a few years older, but still just as sensitive. I struggled with my feet and squealed and screeched as Dorothea brushed my soles clean. I laughed and cried, it was ghastly. Screech-scrub! Scrub-screech! Scrub-fidget-fidget-squeak! At last she was finished. She grinned at me, "I shall gag you if I do that again." I looked wide-eyed at her. Gagging ?! "You should also be tied up, so you can’t thrash about with your legs, my lovely." I swallowed, it didn’t feel lovely! Forget it, Doro! She dried my feet with a small towel and tied them firmly on the foot-rest. I was happy, my sensitive soles were out of her reach, protected by the oblique wooden block on which they were pressing. Ah!

"Oooh! Something tweeted in me, or quacked in me? Something clucked in me? Something whistled in me? Where did these stupid expressions come from? I swan-songed something! Why not cock-crowed something? Why didn’t something goose-hiss me? Something tweeted in me, something chirruped in me, something twittered in me, something dawn-chorused me…"

Delightful Eul! Loved them all, but my favorite was "dawn-chorused" ... never heard that before, but it brings up such an image in my mind. Fun episode!!!!

 

[Wragg]

"Oooh! Something tweeted in me, or quacked in me? Something clucked in me? Something whistled in me? Where did these stupid expressions come from? I swan-songed something! Why not cock-crowed something? Why didn’t something goose-hiss me? Something tweeted in me, something chirruped in me, something twittered in me, something dawn-chorused me…"

Delightful Eul! Loved them all, but my favorite was "dawn-chorused" ... never heard that before, but it brings up such an image in my mind. Fun episode!!!!

I rather went for 'something tweeted in me'.

 

[Quiet Paul]

Eul, this just gets better and better. It is a masterful piece of writing, full of tension, and also a real tour-de-force of translation.

 

[phlebas]

Naked, I lay on my back and spread my arms,ready. She tied my wrists with the ropes, a great serenity overcame me, I was a captive, now there was no turning back. I had to endure it, even if it was unendurable - what a thought!

a nice thought

The serenity of the pre cruxed

 

[Eulalia]

Dorothea went to the pulley. I calmed down, focused myself on my crucifixion. Doro pulled the lift chain, a jolt shook through the cross and through me, tied onto it, tied .... just the word! It was phenomenal that at even the use, even the thought, of certain words and phrases, my heart could beat faster. "Tied" was such a word. I had been tied to the cross, I was knotted onto it, I was bound onto it, I was roped onto it, I was in bondage on the cross. Each of these small phrases said essentially the same about the situation where I found myself, yet each sounded a little different. Each of these sentences had its own character, like the different instrumental parts in an piece of chamber music, chords .... sentences ....suites ....

The chain picked me up together with the cross. No! Better, the chain lifted the cross high along with me. Yes, I was lifted with the cross because I was tied to the cross, I was bound to the cross, Dorothea had attached me onto the cross - tone sequences .... feelings .... different pitches, quite different feelings,and always harmonious and beautiful .... arousingly beautiful ....

I enjoyed every moment. The chain made its own music high up in the metal housing where Doro’s quick but gentle pulling motion was converted into the gradual but immensely powerful hauling of the chain, drawing the cross upwards slowly but steadily. Like the chirp of a cricket, chirp-clink, chirp-clink, chirp-clink. Upwards. I prepared myself to hang, to stretch, to hang straight, to be held upright, to be suspended. The cross rose, it grew with me, I was lifted. I felt united with it. I felt sublime.

A fantasy came sailing along from the farthest corners of my agitated soul. It was an old one, I’d often thought it through, often played the little film in Lisette's head. Lisette naked on a wooden cross, strong beams, not thin planks. The wood as naked as Lisette’s as it stretched her body. No colour, no ornament, no carvings, bare wood, but not polished smooth. Down below are "they", and they watch as this cross is raised, this cross with me on it. Who are they? Do they know why I’m there? Was it important? They were always female, pupils from my school when I was fourteen, girls from the Jazz Dance club, sixteen at the most, all the members of the choir, people from the city where I grew up, so many of them were down there watching as the cross was lifted up. They looked at Lisette Lange, stark naked, tied on that cross. There was a reason, one could always be raked up, but it was not important. Lisette could hardly think for excitement - she was frightened, scared stiff, she was embarrassed to death, but there's something completely different, they were enjoying it, and she loved it, welcomed it.

My dream had come true, but there was no-one down there watching, no-one to witness my nakedness, strapped to the cross and now being hoisted up, slowly and inexorably. Dorothea pulled me vertical with a gentle tug, the cross arrived at the support for the upright, then rested. I heard Doro plug the rod in behind the upright so that the cross would not topple. The hook of the hoist at the top of the upright could be released. I’d arrived! I was crucified. I was raised up. I was hanging on the cross. It was an experience that would always be a shock to me, finding myself hanging and standing at the same time. I was hanging on my outstretched arms, but also standing with my feet on the angled foot-rest. This gave some support to my feet. If I let myself sink on the wrist-bonds, my knees were slightly bent. If I pushed with my knees my body rose two or perhaps three inches, and the strain on my arms was somewhat eased, but only just mitigated. Again I marvelled at this detail, I could stretch myself as much I wanted, but the strain on my torso I couldn't completely turn off. Sweet pain, right from the beginning!

I leaned back on the cross and gave myself up to it, merely that. I couldn’t sit back, I couldn’t help myself, my freedom of movement was severely restricted. I began to try it out. I could let my head sink. If I did, I saw my feet on the pedestal, my ankles bound with several twists of rope. How beautiful they looked! Helpless, defenceless, captured, tied up. I couldn’t let my head fall back, I could roll it aside and turn it, but I couldn’t drop it backwards. If I were tied down there on the floor with my arms outstretched - for example, between two walls – I would be able to lay my head back. On the cross, I was denied this. I flexed my back and managed to push my bare bottom against the wood of the upright. I could move my abdomen a little to left or right. That redistributed the strain on my arms slightly.

I felt completely safe. The ropes held me, they grasped me, they gripped me. I was safely attached to the cross. Attached. Again, such a word. Oh, what was happening to me? What a wonderful experience! It was crazy. I was a bit ashamed because I was naked, and yet I enjoyed it at the same time. Imagined that I was being crucified in public, the cross stood at the road-junction at the other end of Spuhl. There I am, Lisette Lange, naked and helpless. Everyone who passed by could look at me as much as they wished, I couldn’t prevent him or her. Tourists, who only occasionally visit Spuhl, arrived in large numbers, they wanted to take photos of the girl on the famous Spuhl Cross. A courier came with with more than twenty people. She herded her culture-obsessed sheep directly under me: "This, Ladies and Gentlemen, is the famous girl of the Cross of Spuhl. Every summer she comes to visit for a few weeks, and each day she comes to spend a few hours on the cross. People come from far and wide to look at her and take pictures." The people all looked at me. They pulled out their cameras and took photos as souvenirs of me, the naked, crucified girl. I was ashamed and simultaneously proud. I was an attraction of Spuhl, people came to see me, they gazed at me, I hung above them - or I stood above them? I was their centre of attention, the cross elevated me!

 

[Barbaria1]

Dorothea went to the pulley. I calmed down, focused myself on my crucifixion. Doro pulled the lift chain, a jolt shook through the cross and through me, tied onto it, tied .... just the word! It was phenomenal that at even the use, even the thought, of certain words and phrases, my heart could beat faster. "Tied" was such a word. I had been tied to the cross, I was knotted onto it, I was bound onto it, I was roped onto it, I was in bondage on the cross. Each of these small phrases said essentially the same about the situation where I found myself, yet each sounded a little different. Each of these sentences had its own character, like the different instrumental parts in an piece of chamber music, chords .... sentences ....suites ....

The chain picked me up together with the cross. No! Better, the chain lifted the cross high along with me. Yes, I was lifted with the cross because I was tied to the cross, I was bound to the cross, Dorothea had attached me onto the cross - tone sequences .... feelings .... different pitches, quite different feelings,and always harmonious and beautiful .... arousingly beautiful ....

I enjoyed every moment. The chain made its own music high up in the metal housing where Doro’s quick but gentle pulling motion was converted into the gradual but immensely powerful hauling of the chain, drawing the cross upwards slowly but steadily. Like the chirp of a cricket, chirp-clink, chirp-clink, chirp-clink. Upwards. I prepared myself to hang, to stretch, to hang straight, to be held upright, to be suspended. The cross rose, it grew with me, I was lifted. I felt united with it. I felt sublime.

A fantasy came sailing along from the farthest corners of my agitated soul. It was an old one, I’d often thought it through, often played the little film in Lisette's head. Lisette naked on a wooden cross, strong beams, not thin planks. The wood as naked as Lisette’s as it stretched her body. No colour, no ornament, no carvings, bare wood, but not polished smooth. Down below are "they", and they watch as this cross is raised, this cross with me on it. Who are they? Do they know why I’m there? Was it important? They were always female, pupils from my school when I was fourteen, girls from the Jazz Dance club, sixteen at the most, all the members of the choir, people from the city where I grew up, so many of them were down there watching as the cross was lifted up. They looked at Lisette Lange, stark naked, tied on that cross. There was a reason, one could always be raked up, but it was not important. Lisette could hardly think for excitement - she was frightened, scared stiff, she was embarrassed to death, but there's something completely different, they were enjoying it, and she loved it, welcomed it.

My dream had come true, but there was no-one down there watching, no-one to witness my nakedness, strapped to the cross and now being hoisted up, slowly and inexorably. Dorothea pulled me vertical with a gentle tug, the cross arrived at the support for the upright, then rested. I heard Doro plug the rod in behind the upright so that the cross would not topple. The hook of the hoist at the top of the upright could be released. I’d arrived! I was crucified. I was raised up. I was hanging on the cross. It was an experience that would always be a shock to me, finding myself hanging and standing at the same time. I was hanging on my outstretched arms, but also standing with my feet on the angled foot-rest. This gave some support to my feet. If I let myself sink on the wrist-bonds, my knees were slightly bent. If I pushed with my knees my body rose two or perhaps three inches, and the strain on my arms was somewhat eased, but only just mitigated. Again I marvelled at this detail, I could stretch myself as much I wanted, but the strain on my torso I couldn't completely turn off. Sweet pain, right from the beginning!

I leaned back on the cross and gave myself up to it, merely that. I couldn’t sit back, I couldn’t help myself, my freedom of movement was severely restricted. I began to try it out. I could let my head sink. If I did, I saw my feet on the pedestal, my ankles bound with several twists of rope. How beautiful they looked! Helpless, defenceless, captured, tied up. I couldn’t let my head fall back, I could roll it aside and turn it, but I couldn’t drop it backwards. If I were tied down there on the floor with my arms outstretched - for example, between two walls – I would be able to lay my head back. On the cross, I was denied this. I flexed my back and managed to push my bare bottom against the wood of the upright. I could move my abdomen a little to left or right. That redistributed the strain on my arms slightly.

I felt completely safe. The ropes held me, they grasped me, they gripped me. I was safely attached to the cross. Attached. Again, such a word. Oh, what was happening to me? What a wonderful experience! It was crazy. I was a bit ashamed because I was naked, and yet I enjoyed it at the same time. Imagined that I was being crucified in public, the cross stood at the road-junction at the other end of Spuhl. There I am, Lisette Lange, naked and helpless. Everyone who passed by could look at me as much as they wished, I couldn’t prevent him or her. Tourists, who only occasionally visit Spuhl, arrived in large numbers, they wanted to take photos of the girl on the famous Spuhl Cross. A courier came with with more than twenty people. She herded her culture-obsessed sheep directly under me: "This, Ladies and Gentlemen, is the famous girl of the Cross of Spuhl. Every summer she comes to visit for a few weeks, and each day she comes to spend a few hours on the cross. People come from far and wide to look at her and take pictures." The people all looked at me. They pulled out their cameras and took photos as souvenirs of me, the naked, crucified girl. I was ashamed and simultaneously proud. I was an attraction of Spuhl, people came to see me, they gazed at me, I hung above them - or I stood above them? I was their centre of attention, the cross elevated me!

Eul, I think the prose here is "elevating"...I don't know how you do it so effortlessly...I really am enjoying the way you dissect and play with different parts of the experience...the exploration for example of the simple word "tie", its variations and meanings all swirling in her mind.

 

[Eulalia]

well it's Elfbride (ElfenBraut) who deserves most of the credit -
it's fun, though, trying to match the diverse ways of saying the same thing in German!

 

[Eulalia]

I moaned softly. How long have I been on the cross? I had no sense of time any more. Down below Dorothea stood in the workshop and gazed at me. She pointed to my bound feet, "You have extremely sensitive soles, Lisette. When I scrubbed them, you were quite distressed." Oh, yes, I was, tortured, tick-tock-granny-Dorothea super-torture! She came a couple of steps closer, so she was standing right below me, her face level with my feet. She looked up at me, "You know what you should do, Lisette. You can’t just train to endure the strain on the cross, you should also toughen up your soles by regularly walking in bare feet." Oh sure! Hike along gravelled tracks, suffer anguish in front of all the village! But hadn’t I experienced that already? A bit too much? "We want to roam around in the neighbourhood," continued my cousin, "what do you think of rambling barefoot? It would toughen your feet, it's healthy too." "And you?" I asked, leaning down. She shrugged, "I could join you. Sometimes. Perhaps more often. Depends." She grinned mischievously at me. "But you mustn’t expect to have a companion to give you moral support, you must experience it sometimes alone, being barefoot, coping with it in the city, when maybe people are looking. If I join you, if we both go barefoot, there’s nothing to it. But when you do it alone, then you’ll perhaps be in difficulty in some situations. That’s training too, you train yourself to be stronger in that way as well, Lisette." Barefoot hiking, I liked the idea anyway, the prospect appealed. Why not? Well .... I’d never tried long walks on bare feet, but would it be really hard? Nothing to it, really.

The strain on my arms became stronger, harder to bear. I was fighting for breath. "What do you say?" asked Doro from below, "Will you do it?" I nodded, "Yes, I shall." She smiled up at me, "Fine." I pushed myself to breathe again, it was difficult. Don’t be tense, Lisette, I said to myself, don’t fight it, don’t try to defend yourself, there’s no sense in that. Give in to it. Give yourself up to it. Take part in it. Become the victim. You have to endure it either way. Yes. I had to, I did as I told myself, tried to relax. It wasn’t easy, I had to concentrate on giving in, loosening my muscles. After a while I was soft and flexible. The ropes held me, I gave myself up to them. Yes. It was right. Pain, my Torturer, didn’t disappear, but I could endure him better. He was growing stronger, the minutes strengthened him, Time collaborated with Pain, both worked against me. I squeezed my knees and pressed myself up. Let them! They won’t break me that easily!

Dorothea went over to the table with her art stuff. She sat down so that she could watch me all the time, while she worked on paper. She started a drawing. Pencil marks flew over the white sheet. Occasionally she lifted her head and looked at me. Again I tried to sit back on the cross, it was impossible. Pain never went. Give up, Lisette. You have to bear it. Give yourself up to your bondage, it's holding you, it won’t drop you if you drop.

My gaze wandered through the workshop. I saw things that I hadn’t noticed before. I peered to make out what was at the other end of the room. Yes, it was a gymnastics frame! One like in the gym at school, with a beam that could be set at different heights. Dorothea's grandfather had been a keen gymnast from a young age, he was in the Spuhl Gymnastics Club. It seemed a rather ridiculous idea, I recalled him as an old codger. I could only imagine the old git jumping up on the high bar and leaping about, it made me grin. But he kept fit to a ripe old age, and in photos from earlier in his life I'd seen a well-toned, athletic young man. On this frame in his workshop he must have practised – upswing, downturn, rotation, jump, and wotnot. Then there was a small, rounded bar at hip level. It extended out from the wall and projected into the room, and leaning on it was a vertical round pole. What was this thing for? A room divider? Or what? Had the workshop at some time been a stable? But the bar was new. Could it be for beating carpets? There were several rolled-up rugs against the wall, but they’d be laid on bars mounted higher up, so you could beat them properly. I couldn’t think of anything that would explain this weird design, it frustrated me. But I didn’t ask Dorothea, I wanted to find out for myself.

I groaned. How long? How long had I been on the cross? I had no idea, there was no clock, Dorothea had made sure of that. I must remain on the cross without any sense of time. A clock in my field of view would only undermine the training, I’d spend the whole time staring at it instead of concentrating on the crucifixion itself, focusing on the feelings it provoked. Pangs. This triggered them. I could feel them clearly. I could put up with them, I had to, I wanted to, I could. I straightened up, I dropped down from the bar. I felt the punishment. It was uncomfortable, and beautiful. I was enjoying it, even though I felt tortured. It was an extraordinary, very special situation.

I looked back into the workshop. Ropes hung on the walls, leather straps, a rolled-up tarpaulin of waxed canvas. On the shelves were wooden boxes with screws, nuts, nails and all sorts of odds and ends, anything and everything. Tools hung in brackets on the wall. There was a metal tripod in a corner. What was the use of that? Why had Dorothee's grandfather kept all this stuff in his workshop? Had he used it for his work? Or had it been parked there just because there was nowhere else for the thing? Questions and more questions. Unnecessary questions. Important questions. Unanswered questions.

Pain prowled over me, he clung to my bare body, he seemed to purr, "Lisette? I'm here, can you feel me? Don’t you feel me, Lisette?" Yes, I can feel you, I'm feeling you, I can cope with you - come on, Pain!

Drills, three of them in all. Who the heck needed three drills?? He certainly couldn’t have used all three at the same time! Stupid, right? Cordless screwdriver. Screwdriver. Wrench. Files.

Pain. Pain. Oh my arms, oh my poor arms! Poor me! Oh my poor arms! I was suffering now, really suffering. It was powerful, yet it spurred me on, a monstrous feeling! I liked it. I loved it. I welcomed Pain, I gave myself up to him entirely, I let go, I was Pain, Pain was me. I was sacrificed, I was crucified, I was happy and content.

Dorothea came over to me: "Your time's up, Lisette." She took the locking pin out, grabbed the chain and pulled. The little cross-concert began, chirp-clink, chirp-clink, chirp-clink, clinkety-chirp, chirpety-clink… I was drained. the terrible strain on my arms and shoulders eased slowly, yet the pain seemed to become even stronger. It throbbed in the muscles of my upper arms. As the cross lay horizontal, it still hurt. Dorothea freed me from my bonds. I slowly lifted my arms, groaned. "How is it?" my cousin wanted to know, as she helped me stand up. Only now did I realise how shaky my legs were, I’d flexed and pushed up with my knees so often. My arms protested when I moved. Gorgeous bondage prints on my joints! "I've endured it," I said, "I could do it. For a while it was almost unbearable, but then I let myself sink and suddenly I could cope with it quite easily." I was totally euphoric. "It was great! Something else!!!"

She smiled at me: "Then you should start tomorrow spending whole hours on the cross." I stood up and walked on my wobbly legs over to the table. A whole hour. A full hour. Yes. This was a unit of time. This was real time. Yay!

Dorothea had begun to draw a flower meadow, with broad strokes she’d put blades of grass and different flowers on paper. The sheet was large, A2. I admired it. Pretty. I was curious how it would look when it was finished. I looked up at her, "I'll do it. One hour, Doro, from now on a full hour, once in the morning and once in the afternoon." The euphoria was still in me. I had endured it. I would bear it again. My heart was beating with joy.

 

[Barbaria1]

I moaned softly. How long have I been on the cross? I had no sense of time any more. Down below Dorothea stood in the workshop and gazed at me. She pointed to my bound feet, "You have extremely sensitive soles, Lisette. When I scrubbed them, you were quite distressed." Oh, yes, I was, tortured, tick-tock-granny-Dorothea super-torture! She came a couple of steps closer, so she was standing right below me, her face level with my feet. She looked up at me, "You know what you should do, Lisette. You can’t just train to endure the strain on the cross, you should also toughen up your soles by regularly walking in bare feet." Oh sure! Hike along gravelled tracks, suffer anguish in front of all the village! But hadn’t I experienced that already? A bit too much? "We want to roam around in the neighbourhood," continued my cousin, "what do you think of rambling barefoot? It would toughen your feet, it's healthy too." "And you?" I asked, leaning down. She shrugged, "I could join you. Sometimes. Perhaps more often. Depends." She grinned mischievously at me. "But you mustn’t expect to have a companion to give you moral support, you must experience it sometimes alone, being barefoot, coping with it in the city, when maybe people are looking. If I join you, if we both go barefoot, there’s nothing to it. But when you do it alone, then you’ll perhaps be in difficulty in some situations. That’s training too, you train yourself to be stronger in that way as well, Lisette." Barefoot hiking, I liked the idea anyway, the prospect appealed. Why not? Well .... I’d never tried long walks on bare feet, but would it be really hard? Nothing to it, really.

The strain on my arms became stronger, harder to bear. I was fighting for breath. "What do you say?" asked Doro from below, "Will you do it?" I nodded, "Yes, I shall." She smiled up at me, "Fine." I pushed myself to breathe again, it was difficult. Don’t be tense, Lisette, I said to myself, don’t fight it, don’t try to defend yourself, there’s no sense in that. Give in to it. Give yourself up to it. Take part in it. Become the victim. You have to endure it either way. Yes. I had to, I did as I told myself, tried to relax. It wasn’t easy, I had to concentrate on giving in, loosening my muscles. After a while I was soft and flexible. The ropes held me, I gave myself up to them. Yes. It was right. Pain, my Torturer, didn’t disappear, but I could endure him better. He was growing stronger, the minutes strengthened him, Time collaborated with Pain, both worked against me. I squeezed my knees and pressed myself up. Let them! They won’t break me that easily!

Dorothea went over to the table with her art stuff. She sat down so that she could watch me all the time, while she worked on paper. She started a drawing. Pencil marks flew over the white sheet. Occasionally she lifted her head and looked at me. Again I tried to sit back on the cross, it was impossible. Pain never went. Give up, Lisette. You have to bear it. Give yourself up to your bondage, it's holding you, it won’t drop you if you drop.

My gaze wandered through the workshop. I saw things that I hadn’t noticed before. I peered to make out what was at the other end of the room. Yes, it was a gymnastics frame! One like in the gym at school, with a beam that could be set at different heights. Dorothea's grandfather had been a keen gymnast from a young age, he was in the Spuhl Gymnastics Club. It seemed a rather ridiculous idea, I recalled him as an old codger. I could only imagine the old git jumping up on the high bar and leaping about, it made me grin. But he kept fit to a ripe old age, and in photos from earlier in his life I'd seen a well-toned, athletic young man. On this frame in his workshop he must have practised – upswing, downturn, rotation, jump, and wotnot. Then there was a small, rounded bar at hip level. It extended out from the wall and projected into the room, and leaning on it was a vertical round pole. What was this thing for? A room divider? Or what? Had the workshop at some time been a stable? But the bar was new. Could it be for beating carpets? There were several rolled-up rugs against the wall, but they’d be laid on bars mounted higher up, so you could beat them properly. I couldn’t think of anything that would explain this weird design, it frustrated me. But I didn’t ask Dorothea, I wanted to find out for myself.

I groaned. How long? How long had I been on the cross? I had no idea, there was no clock, Dorothea had made sure of that. I must remain on the cross without any sense of time. A clock in my field of view would only undermine the training, I’d spend the whole time staring at it instead of concentrating on the crucifixion itself, focusing on the feelings it provoked. Pangs. This triggered them. I could feel them clearly. I could put up with them, I had to, I wanted to, I could. I straightened up, I dropped down from the bar. I felt the punishment. It was uncomfortable, and beautiful. I was enjoying it, even though I felt tortured. It was an extraordinary, very special situation.

I looked back into the workshop. Ropes hung on the walls, leather straps, a rolled-up tarpaulin of waxed canvas. On the shelves were wooden boxes with screws, nuts, nails and all sorts of odds and ends, anything and everything. Tools hung in brackets on the wall. There was a metal tripod in a corner. What was the use of that? Why had Dorothee's grandfather kept all this stuff in his workshop? Had he used it for his work? Or had it been parked there just because there was nowhere else for the thing? Questions and more questions. Unnecessary questions. Important questions. Unanswered questions.

Pain prowled over me, he clung to my bare body, he seemed to purr, "Lisette? I'm here, can you feel me? Don’t you feel me, Lisette?" Yes, I can feel you, I'm feeling you, I can cope with you - come on, Pain!

Drills, three of them in all. Who the heck needed three drills?? He certainly couldn’t have used all three at the same time! Stupid, right? Cordless screwdriver. Screwdriver. Wrench. Files.

Pain. Pain. Oh my arms, oh my poor arms! Poor me! Oh my poor arms! I was suffering now, really suffering. It was powerful, yet it spurred me on, a monstrous feeling! I liked it. I loved it. I welcomed Pain, I gave myself up to him entirely, I let go, I was Pain, Pain was me. I was sacrificed, I was crucified, I was happy and content.

Dorothea came over to me: "Your time's up, Lisette." She took the locking pin out, grabbed the chain and pulled. The little cross-concert began, chirp-clink, chirp-clink, chirp-clink, clinkety-chirp, chirpety-clink… I was drained. the terrible strain on my arms and shoulders eased slowly, yet the pain seemed to become even stronger. It throbbed in the muscles of my upper arms. As the cross lay horizontal, it still hurt. Dorothea freed me from my bonds. I slowly lifted my arms, groaned. "How is it?" my cousin wanted to know, as she helped me stand up. Only now did I realise how shaky my legs were, I’d flexed and pushed up with my knees so often. My arms protested when I moved. Gorgeous bondage prints on my joints! "I've endured it," I said, "I could do it. For a while it was almost unbearable, but then I let myself sink and suddenly I could cope with it quite easily." I was totally euphoric. "It was great! Something else!!!"

She smiled at me: "Then you should start tomorrow spending whole hours on the cross." I stood up and walked on my wobbly legs over to the table. A whole hour. A full hour. Yes. This was a unit of time. This was real time. Yay!

Dorothea had begun to draw a flower meadow, with broad strokes she’d put blades of grass and different flowers on paper. The sheet was large, A2. I admired it. Pretty. I was curious how it would look when it was finished. I looked up at her, "I'll do it. One hour, Doro, from now on a full hour, once in the morning and once in the afternoon." The euphoria was still in me. I had endured it. I would bear it again. My heart was beating with joy.

Fascinating exploration of how time on the cross might quicken the senses, increase awareness of surroundings and details that we might normally gloss over or ignore....I really found this absorbing Eul!

 

[Eulalia]

I've got to the end of the part Madiosi posted in Googletrans,
reading it even in that garbled form persuaded me that it's beautifully written story,
well worth the effort of putting into readable English.
We're at about page 100 of the German text, out of about 500
but as long as people are enjoying it, I'll enjoy working on it.

I think we might just be getting a hint of grandpa's little secrets?
May be Doro's too???