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The Girl With No Name

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16 For the first time with leather cuffs

Before we went back to the house, Dorothy picked up the drill, and from a drawer in the workbench she took the appropriate drill-bit, the same gauge as the holes in the arms of the cross. At the top of the sloping footrest Doro drilled a hole exactly in the centre of the upright, right through it. Then she took the leather cuffs, "Look at them, Lis, custom-made exactly for you!" She showed the things to me, they were made of brown leather and not so big and thick and menacing as I’d expected. The cuffs for my wrists were nearly three inches wide, the two for my ankles only two centimetres. The leather was thick and strong, it felt stiff. Dorothea noticed my scepticism. "Your body heat will quickly make them softer, Lisette. After a breaking-in period, the leather adapts to your measurements. Those things will fit comfortably, and in time like a glove. Look inside - there, they’re very soft. They’re made of two layers of leather, sturdy outside, soft inside." Indeed the cuffs were soft and tender inside, it felt good. "I chose brown leather," she said, "that colour goes well with your red hair and your green eyes, better than jet black I think." I had to agree with her.

I looked at the cuffs in detail. The ones I knew from the internet had on the back a small sturdy metal ring, or an eye, in which you could fit a chain, but these ones Doro had ordered were different - at the back of the wrist-cuffs were projecting bolts, mounted in the leather so they could swivel. Under the soft inner layer of the cuffs I could feel flat metal discs, these were holding the bolts onto the sleeve, or vice versa, the whole thing twisted around easily. Doro took them and put the bolts through the left and right holes in the cross-bar. On the tips she fitted washers and screwed nuts onto the bolts that stuck out below. She tightened them firmly with a spanner, they’ll hold, that’s for sure.

I moved my wrist-cuffs, they turned about - I understood, they’d give me enough freedom of movement in my wrists to dance on the cross, to and fro, up and down. That's good, I thought. The ankle cuffs were linked together, a bolt stuck right out from the mid-point between the two cuffs, it had a wide head fitting exactly in between where the leather bonds ended, below this head the thread began. Dorothea put the bolt into the hole in the footrest and screwed it tight. Now I understood why the spacer was there, the cuffs were fitted exactly onto the wood, so they’ll be able to hold my ankles perfectly. My heels would stand flat against the wood of the upright beam without being pressed forcibly onto it. All in all, a comfortable looking thing! Well .... tomorrow morning I’ll try it!

Dorothea stood beside me, we looked at my new piece of work. "Looks neat," she opined, "real cool - see Lis, leather things are so you, you’ll make a better model than with ropes, especially now it’s all fixed up. You’ll just lie there, arms apart, all four cuffs on, and up you’ll go!" She pushed me towards it, "Are you happy with it already?" I knelt down on it, "Yes, Doro, I'm curious to see how it feels. It looks like I'll have a bit more room to move, then I’ll be able to stand the time on the cross more easily." She turned my face towards her, "Just need to get in there, huh? Two and a half hours in the morning, and tomorrow afternoon the same again, yes?" She smiled, I nodded, "Yes, Doro. Two and a half. Twice in a row."

She gave me a kiss on the cheek, "Five powerful hours on the cross tomorrow. You’re coming on quite beautifully, Lis, one can only admire
you, you really do want to experience it all!" Yes, I did.
 
thanks for the nice comments - I enjoy working on it, it's exciting for me,
I've intentionally not read the whole story myself, I like to come to each part fresh,
as excited as you are as to what's coming next! :D


The next morning we hurried through the usual rituals. We said goodbye to Aunt Annie, washed the dishes from breakfast, and went to the workshop where the cross was waiting for me. The leather cuffs were open, looking as if they wanted to invite me, “Come, Lisette, trust yourself to us, we’ll hold you tight. You'll be such a pretty cross-girl adorned with with fine brown leather on your wrists and ankles, tt will look as if you’re wearing the most trendy bangles. I undressed, I stood naked before Dorothea.

"Two and a half," she said softly, with a smile.

"Two and a half," I repeated and laid myself down on the cross. She made me fast. "Goddess!" I said. "I can hardly believe I started with just a quarter of an hour! A miserable quarter of an hour!"

Doro pulled the cuff on my left wrist, "The second time you went immediately for half an hour," she smiled at me, "you went for double at one stroke."

I smiled back, I felt indescribably happy, it felt glorious getting strapped by Dorothea onto the cross. "But don’t think I'm going to do double this afternoon, five hours at a time would be too much for me."

"For the time being," said Dorothee. She buckled the right cuff on, I felt especially how the leather clung to my wrists and held onto my bare skin – nice!

Doro turned to my feet. "You can do five, believe me Lis. You're doing it, all by yourself, ‘cos you're a stubborn little brat, you’re madly keen to endure it as long as you can."

She secured the ankle cuffs, now I was the prisoner of the cross. Dorothea knelt down beside me on the floor and leaned over, "You know what interests me, Lis? Know what I'm waiting for each day?"

"What?" I asked.

"How long will it take before you do give up, Lisette? How long do you have to hang on the cross and suffer until you start to cry or even to beg for your release?" She stroked my face, "I'm waiting, Lis, I want to see how you lose the fight, how you break, and, when you're getting close to submission, what will happen to you - will you just whine and sob a little? Or will you start screaming like a banshee - no problem, nobody can hear you, there’ll be no-one around."

She leaned over me and kissed me infinitely softly on my lips.

"But the important thing is, will you go on then, Lis? Or will you terminate this experiment and call a halt? Will you give up and end it? Or will you go back to the cross again, to experience it yet again? I’m really excited, Lisette, I’ve no idea how you’ll react. I don’t even know how I’ll react myself. While you were fighting so hard yesterday, I felt terribly sorry for you, I wanted to set you free. Yes, Lisette! I know this sounds crazy, but it's fun, I do like to see you being forced to suffer, you’re so beautiful in your pain, Lis! You should see yourself! It's no use just photographing you or filming you with a video-cam, that’s rubbish, total bilge - just two-dimensional images, even with sound, can’t recreate how you are when the cross enslaves you and you fight it. You’re something more than beautiful when that time comes, I could bow down and worship you, you’re so lovely in those moments."

I was hearing something very new. I’d thought she was busy dealing with other stuff while I was spending my time on the cross, painting or sorting her nature photos on her laptop. But apparently she was keeping me very much in mind. I liked the idea that she was watching as I tortured myself.
 
Dorothea stood up. She went to the hoist and pulled the chain, it set off, rick-rick-click-click-krick-krick. Slowly the cross lifted, I rose with it, soon I was standing upright. Doro secured the cross and went over to her painting table, picked up her brush. I reached for the stars, all I could in my current position, hanging tied on the cross. You can’t do a lot on the cross, can you? Hadn’t the little voice in my head got it right yesterday? Without the pain that will eventually come to me, it would soon become boring. What does crucifixion mean for me anyway? I analysised this in my head, I thought about my feelings and motivations. Why do I want to be crucified, what do I really feel about it?

I was naked - that alone was exciting and beautiful. I even managed to feel a little bit ashamed of my nakedness. With just Doro in the workshop there was hardly any reason to be ashamed, but I just needed to imagine that other people were watching me, that soon brought palpitations. Being tied up – or, now, strapped up, both had something, both are lovely. I’m in bondage, severely restricted in my movements. I’m a captive held, fixed, on the cross - tthe word "fixed" excited me. I’m displayed,I’m exposed, I’m offered up helpless. Helplessness –this has its own charm. I felt defenceless, vulnerable, subjected. To get away unaided is impossible, I’m entirely at the mercy of my cousin completely, she controls me completely. Being stretched, being restrained, being strapped, having to endure it for a long time - this is the special attraction of crucifixion, the time! Ten minutes might be quite exciting, but it’s only the pressure of having to endure a long time that makes crucifixion really thrilling. Pain belongs to it, it’s the icing on the cake. If I imagined I would spend hours hanging on the cross and not feel anything, that would be boring. I want to feel the anguish, that’s what makes it so exciting – yes it’s exciting, it’s nice, it’s erotic, it thrills me! So many reasons, so many feelings. Yes, crucifixion gives me so many different sensations. It. And I want even more to come!

I was curious, I was also clamped. I tested out my new bondage, my new way of hanging on the cross. The leather cuffs held me firmly, I trusted them completely, they held me as the ropes. The ropes had cut deep, they’d burned pretty much after a while. The leather embraced my wrists softly but at the same time firmly, it gave me good support, it felt comfortable. It didn’t ease the strain on my arms, but diminshed the burning in my wrist-joints. The cuffs pressed but they didn’t burn, a t least not yet. I had two and a half hours to learn how they’d feel. The bondage straps on my ankles I couldn’t feel much, the leather enwrapped me just below my ankle and held my feet in place. Between my bare feet, I could feel the smooth wood of the footrest. The leather cuffs prevented my feet from slipping, they allowed me to support myself a bit more - instead of just hanging by the arms, it seemed as if I could almost support myself better with my feet, in a flexed posture, than I could before when I was tied with ropes. Good, that means I’ll be able to bear it all the better, and achieve longer times all the quicker!
 
warning, have a supply of ice handy before you read this, you're going to need it! :devil: :devil: :devil:

I dropped into a fantasy, it was one of the many movies I’ve got stored in my head to run in my mental cinema. The school, again .... We had our Girls’ Sex Education class. The teacher selected a few girls to get themselves naked, I was one of them. We were tied with our arms extended above our heads on racks, our legs spread wide apart and our feet tied. A few students took their places around each of us and the teacher went back and forth and lectured on the female sex organs of us bondage-girls. She pointed to our pussies and explained everything down to the smallest detail, the outer and inner labia, the vaginal orifice, the urethral opening, the mons pubis and the clitoris. The girls came up close, they observed exactly and the teacher asked them to touch anything they wanted and examine it. The groping fingers of my classmates aroused unholy excitement in me, I had to use all my strength to suppress a groan - oh these Girl-Sex classes!

"This is the clitoris," said the teacher and pointed to my most sensitive spot. "It is covered by the clitoral hood. Upon excitation, a piece of this skin is sometimes pulled far back and the tip of the clitoris is exposed." She pulled back my prepuce and revealed the glans of my clit.

"Manuela," she called. "come here, examine the bondage girl, come along, touch her exposed clitoris."

Manuela stepped forward briskly, she bent over my abdomen and gripped my groin. When she touched my exposed clitoris-tip, I winced as if I’d had an electric shock, I couldn’t manage to stifle a loud moan.

"This organ is very excitable,” the teacher explained, “rubbing the bondage-girl will arouse her, try it, Manuela, carefully." Manuela started playing around with me, I moaned even louder and clenched myself in my bonds. Ah! Ooohh!

"Don’t you see how it’s exciting her?" the teacher asked, gesturing to the others, "Come closer, watch carefully so you can see exactly what’s happening - do you notice how the sex-parts of the bound girl are increasing in volume? The corpora cavernosa when aroused fill with blood, the whole vagina swells a little, the entire body is a little more tumid. Manuela, can you feel anything else?"

"She’s all wet, miss," reported Manuela, and went on fingering me, her fingertips setting my pussy on fire, I was groaning.

"Right," said the teacher, "this bondage-girl gets wet, at least moist. This happens during sexual arousal. Good , Manuela. Anja? Anja Haug, come here, come along!"

Anja Haug took the place of Manuela. Her fingers stroked and massaged me to the most delicious ecstasy. I reared up in my bondage, I tried to split myself in two, stretching my bound legs. I was groaning loudly. I was incredibly ashamed lying naked in front of my classmates, moaning in pleasure and whimpering. I felt defenceless and humiliated.

Anja – the irony of it! Oh, how it excited me, that Anja Haug of all girls was touching me!

"Very well done, Anja," the teacher praised her "You’re doing it just right. Hold her at this level, don’t let her come! You have to keep control of the bondage-girl. Yeah, good … she’s going to come any moment now…. now she’ll do anything so she can come, she has no choice."

I had no choice, I was squirming, moaning loudly in my bondage.

To the right and left of me the same scene was being played out, each bound girl rearing up, whooping with delight in her bondage, and the others looking on, so interested in what the were doing. Anja was rubbing and stroking, I went into orgasm, arching my back and pulling with all my strength on my bonds. Then, before the eyes of all the girls, I came! I cried out and lost myself in the wild contractions that started deep inside me and went on and on....
 
Eulalia said:
warning, have a supply of ice handy before you read this, you're going to need it! :devil: :devil: :devil:

I dropped into a fantasy, it was one of the many movies I’ve got stored in my head to run in my mental cinema. The school, again .... We had our Girls’ Sex Education class. The teacher selected a few girls to get themselves naked, I was one of them. We were tied with our arms extended above our heads on racks, our legs spread wide apart and our feet tied. A few students took their places around each of us and the teacher went back and forth and lectured on the female sex organs of us bondage-girls. She pointed to our pussies and explained everything down to the smallest detail, the outer and inner labia, the vaginal orifice, the urethral opening, the mons pubis and the clitoris. The girls came up close, they observed exactly and the teacher asked them to touch anything they wanted and examine it. The groping fingers of my classmates aroused unholy excitement in me, I had to use all my strength to suppress a groan - oh these Girl-Sex classes!

"This is the clitoris," said the teacher and pointed to my most sensitive spot. "It is covered by the clitoral hood. Upon excitation, a piece of this skin is sometimes pulled far back and the tip of the clitoris is exposed." She pulled back my prepuce and revealed the glans of my clit.

"Manuela," she called. "come here, examine the bondage girl, come along, touch her exposed clitoris."

Manuela stepped forward briskly, she bent over my abdomen and gripped my groin. When she touched my exposed clitoris-tip, I winced as if I’d had an electric shock, I couldn’t manage to stifle a loud moan.

"This organ is very excitable,” the teacher explained, “rubbing the bondage-girl will arouse her, try it, Manuela, carefully." Manuela started playing around with me, I moaned even louder and clenched myself in my bonds. Ah! Ooohh!

"Don’t you see how it’s exciting her?" the teacher asked, gesturing to the others, "Come closer, watch carefully so you can see exactly what’s happening - do you notice how the sex-parts of the bound girl are increasing in volume? The corpora cavernosa when aroused fill with blood, the whole vagina swells a little, the entire body is a little more tumid. Manuela, can you feel anything else?"

"She’s all wet, miss," reported Manuela, and went on fingering me, her fingertips setting my pussy on fire, I was groaning.

"Right," said the teacher, "this bondage-girl gets wet, at least moist. This happens during sexual arousal. Good , Manuela. Anja? Anja Haug, come here, come along!"

Anja Haug took the place of Manuela. Her fingers stroked and massaged me to the most delicious ecstasy. I reared up in my bondage, I tried to split myself in two, stretching my bound legs. I was groaning loudly. I was incredibly ashamed lying naked in front of my classmates, moaning in pleasure and whimpering. I felt defenceless and humiliated.

Anja – the irony of it! Oh, how it excited me, that Anja Haug of all girls was touching me!

"Very well done, Anja," the teacher praised her "You’re doing it just right. Hold her at this level, don’t let her come! You have to keep control of the bondage-girl. Yeah, good … she’s going to come any moment now…. now she’ll do anything so she can come, she has no choice."

I had no choice, I was squirming, moaning loudly in my bondage.

To the right and left of me the same scene was being played out, each bound girl rearing up, whooping with delight in her bondage, and the others looking on, so interested in what the were doing. Anja was rubbing and stroking, I went into orgasm, arching my back and pulling with all my strength on my bonds. Then, before the eyes of all the girls, I came! I cried out and lost myself in the wild contractions that started deep inside me and went on and on....
Click to expand...

breast hand.jpg Thanks for the warning....but I ran out of ice anyway :very_hot::very_hot::very_hot:
 
I relaxed on the cross. What a wonderful idea! Goddess, if they’d known at school, what was going through my head in so many lessons! Had the other girls had similar thoughts? Anja Haug, for example, I always looked at her with particular pleasure - I couldn’t say why I felt so attracted to that girl, it was just so. Her wallflower-like appearance had something special, she seemed so innocent.

I tensed my arms and pulled myself up, it was easy. I recalled how hard it was pulling like this pulling in the first days. It was just as Doro had described - like the cycle-training of the rabbit-boy Hiasl. I’d got more stamina, I was getting cross-conditioned. How long had I been hanging on the beam? No idea. My sense of time always failed on the cross. An hour, I guessed. It hurt, but I could manage it. I felt stronger than ever. What was a bit of a pain? Any other girl in my place would certainly have complained and asked to be let down – but not Anja, least of all her. Tall Anja Haug would be hanging on the cross and bearing it quietly. Her eyes would look from their position on high with their characteristic tranquility and sadness - a little scary, she’d be seeing through us – well, not me, I’d be right next to her on my own cross, we’d be suffering together for any failings in whatever we’d been doing in the classroom. I saw her naked body in my mind's eye, her fair skin, which was in striking contrast to her dark hair. I saw the dark hair on her pussy. Beautiful, crucified Anja Haug. What was she doing at that moment? I had no idea. Probably she’d get trained as an insurance clerk after the holidays, something like that, Anja wasn’t a high flyer. I am, I want to break all records on the cross, I want to triumph on the cross itself, me conquering myself!

I squirmed, less from pain than from habit, bent back, pushed down on the support. By pressing my legs and bending my back I tensed my calves. Tense arms, haul up, move my pelvis to the left – then to the right. I used fully the small scope that my bondage allowed me. While I felt it torment me, it didn’t even elicit a groan, I was one with the cross, I was part of the cross, the Cross and I belonged together. The cross held me tight. I was fastened to the
cross, inescapably. If Dorothea doesn’t set me free, I won’t ever get down. I enjoyed this feeling, it was insanely beautiful, I could have sung!

How had I actually come to crucifixion? Via my secret passion for bondage? Or was the cross there first? It surely wan’t the cross in the church! Ugh, spiders! No, not with nails! I thought that was absolutely disgusting - the ancient Romans had tortured poor wretches like that, a horrible way to die. That was not my thing, I wanted to be stretched, not nailed! When we were learning about the crucifixion of Jesus in Religious Education, old Pastor Riefer had explained everything down to the smallest detail, I felt sick, it sounded so horrible, and at night I had a ghastly nightmare in which I died in frantic agony on the cross. No, it was not pretty, not at all!

I remembered that day with Sissi in the dorm. Franziska was friends with me and she wanted me to have her cubicle early next year, when her exam studies finished and mine began. The first thing I registered in her small dorm cubicle was the shelving, it caught my eye immediately, a monster made of angled steel, up on the wall at head-height. "Oh, you crazy woman," I blurted out. "Whatever’s that for?" Sissi laughed, "A bookshelf of a special kind, you could put solid iron books on it, that thing would hold them!" She told me that her predecessor had had two fish-tanks installed there, that's why it was built so massively. Because there wasn’t much space, the fish had to be up on a platform made of solid sheet-steel, secured with angle-irons onto the wall. To the right and left two massive hooks jutted forwards, Sissi had hung floral baskets on them.

I got violent palpitations when I saw these things – hooks! Strong hooks that could hold anything! Tentatively, I introduced myself to the shelf and held out my arms, I could just reach the hooks. Suppose I tied ropes around my wrists and looped the ropes on the hooks? If I turned my back to the shelf, standing on a thick book perhaps, and hung myself up on the hooks, and then kicked the book away, my feet would be just standing on the toe-pads and I would be wonderfully suspended - by all the gods of Olympus! I wanted that study-cubicle at any price! Absolutely!
 
I was quite taken with this passage....that time of discovery we all have had at one time..:rolleyes:

How had I actually come to crucifixion? Via my secret passion for bondage? Or was the cross there first? It surely wan’t the cross in the church! Ugh, spiders! No, not with nails! I thought that was absolutely disgusting - the ancient Romans had tortured poor wretches like that, a horrible way to die. That was not my thing, I wanted to be stretched, not nailed! When we were learning about the crucifixion of Jesus in Religious Education, old Pastor Riefer had explained everything down to the smallest detail, I felt sick, it sounded so horrible, and at night I had a ghastly nightmare in which I died in frantic agony on the cross. No, it was not pretty, not at all!
 
Yes, it rings true doesn't it? But there's such a lot in this story that brings back my own early fascination with crux etc.
(though the sex-ed lesson is one that my pure and innocent mind never managed to dream up :p)
 
Barbaria1 said:
I was quite taken with this passage....that time of discovery we all have had at one time..:rolleyes:

How had I actually come to crucifixion? Via my secret passion for bondage? Or was the cross there first? It surely wan’t the cross in the church! Ugh, spiders! No, not with nails! I thought that was absolutely disgusting - the ancient Romans had tortured poor wretches like that, a horrible way to die. That was not my thing, I wanted to be stretched, not nailed! When we were learning about the crucifixion of Jesus in Religious Education, old Pastor Riefer had explained everything down to the smallest detail, I felt sick, it sounded so horrible, and at night I had a ghastly nightmare in which I died in frantic agony on the cross. No, it was not pretty, not at all!
Click to expand...

Discovery. Something Pp is acutely experiencing as he explores this world.
 
Eulalia said:
Yes, it rings true doesn't it? But there's such a lot in this story that brings back my own early fascination with crux etc.
(though the sex-ed lesson is one that my pure and innocent mind never managed to dream up :p)
Click to expand...

I have drawn along with this Eulalia. Thank you.
 
I eased myself down on the cross, straightened my back, leaned forward a little further. If I made an effort, I could get my shoulders off the wood, even my back off the upright a little bit. But I soon fell right back to the cross, it would not let me free, I was its prisoner, held tight. On the other hand, it forbade me from arguing with myself. Being suspended by my arms, that's what I was after, just that. I’d always liked hanging on the railings outside the basement of our house, I’d pulled myself hand over hand from one of the middle steps onto the outer railings, and hung there as if crucified, my arms outstretched, my feet either hanging free or supporting my heels on the transverse part of the railings, and then tried to endure it as long as I could.

It was during that camping holiday, I remembered now, yes! That summer holiday, how old was I? Twelve or thirteen. In the evening I’d gone to the playground when there were no kids there any more. There was this "jungle-gym", I think that’s what you call such a thing? Anyway, it consisted of iron pipes that could hold on to comfortably with your hands. On one side you climbed up a ladder, then you pulled yourself up with your hands along the horizontal part of the "gym", hand over hand till you got to the other side. Your feet hung clear of the ground. If you can’t manage to do it, you can just let yourself drop into the soft sand under the comical iron frame. I managed it effortlessly, and eventually found myself hanging freely on one of the iron bars, my legs stretching down, holding myself there breathless. I didn’t let go, and slowly counted the seconds.

Then I changed the game. I clawed my way from the ladder onto the horizontal bars so that my hands were grasping two bars apart, I left the nearest bar and grabbed the next one along. Doing this, my arms were severely stretched, hanging with them at that angle was much harder to bear. After a few seconds I began to feel the strain on my arms and shoulders. This gave me immense pleasure and I repeated the exercise again and again. From then on I went to the playground each evening and played "hanging by my hands." With arms outstretched, I stayed on the climbing frame and counted the seconds while I imagined I’d been tied up on a cross by cruel robbers. Back home I started to hang myself on the basement railings, and ever since then I dreamed of being really crucified, I couldn’t get it out of my head. Over the years, I developed dozens and dozens of different ways I could be crucified, and I always wanted to have to endure it for a long time, very long, hours and hours!

I hauled myself up. Well, I was experiencing it! I was full of gratitude. I could rejoice, though now it was obviously hurting. As time went by, Mr. Pain had slipped up to me almost unnoticed, and now he fell upon me like a grim predator. He grabbed me and bit, snap! I gasped in pain. Oh, boy, now he’s come, and how! But I’d got to endure it, this need, this irresistible force, drove me on. I moved my legs against each other and felt the wetness in my crotch, I was dripping wet with excitement. The pain pounded on me, I was crying out, yet I was accepting it, enduring it, bearing it gladly - I was proud to bear it, Lisette Lange can do it! When Dorothea freed me, I could have kissed her feet in gratitude, I was so glad that it was over, but I was insanely proud to bear it. I could stand it, it was fantastic, in me was a euphoria that made me quite ecstatic.
 
Eulalia said:
I eased myself down on the cross, straightened my back, leaned forward a little further. If I made an effort, I could get my shoulders off the wood, even my back off the upright a little bit. But I soon fell right back to the cross, it would not let me free, I was its prisoner, held tight. On the other hand, it forbade me from arguing with myself. Being suspended by my arms, that's what I was after, just that. I’d always liked hanging on the railings outside the basement of our house, I’d pulled myself hand over hand from one of the middle steps onto the outer railings, and hung there as if crucified, my arms outstretched, my feet either hanging free or supporting my heels on the transverse part of the railings, and then tried to endure it as long as I could.

It was during that camping holiday, I remembered now, yes! That summer holiday, how old was I? Twelve or thirteen. In the evening I’d gone to the playground when there were no kids there any more. There was this "jungle-gym", I think that’s what you call such a thing? Anyway, it consisted of iron pipes that could hold on to comfortably with your hands. On one side you climbed up a ladder, then you pulled yourself up with your hands along the horizontal part of the "gym", hand over hand till you got to the other side. Your feet hung clear of the ground. If you can’t manage to do it, you can just let yourself drop into the soft sand under the comical iron frame. I managed it effortlessly, and eventually found myself hanging freely on one of the iron bars, my legs stretching down, holding myself there breathless. I didn’t let go, and slowly counted the seconds.

Then I changed the game. I clawed my way from the ladder onto the horizontal bars so that my hands were grasping two bars apart, I left the nearest bar and grabbed the next one along. Doing this, my arms were severely stretched, hanging with them at that angle was much harder to bear. After a few seconds I began to feel the strain on my arms and shoulders. This gave me immense pleasure and I repeated the exercise again and again. From then on I went to the playground each evening and played "hanging by my hands." With arms outstretched, I stayed on the climbing frame and counted the seconds while I imagined I’d been tied up on a cross by cruel robbers. Back home I started to hang myself on the basement railings, and ever since then I dreamed of being really crucified, I couldn’t get it out of my head. Over the years, I developed dozens and dozens of different ways I could be crucified, and I always wanted to have to endure it for a long time, very long, hours and hours!

I hauled myself up. Well, I was experiencing it! I was full of gratitude. I could rejoice, though now it was obviously hurting. As time went by, Mr. Pain had slipped up to me almost unnoticed, and now he fell upon me like a grim predator. He grabbed me and bit, snap! I gasped in pain. Oh, boy, now he’s come, and how! But I’d got to endure it, this need, this irresistible force, drove me on. I moved my legs against each other and felt the wetness in my crotch, I was dripping wet with excitement. The pain pounded on me, I was crying out, yet I was accepting it, enduring it, bearing it gladly - I was proud to bear it, Lisette Lange can do it! When Dorothea freed me, I could have kissed her feet in gratitude, I was so glad that it was over, but I was insanely proud to bear it. I could stand it, it was fantastic, in me was a euphoria that made me quite ecstatic.
Click to expand...

The childhood jungle-gym passages really struck a chord with me.....should I admit it?....sure, why not....I did that too!!!!
 
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