crucifer
Magistrate
I have posted this among Crucified Women because there is crucifixion involved in future episodes.
Yvette's Dream - Pt I
Yvette sat in the Church and tried hard, so hard, not to fidget. She did not normally go to Church but she was stopping with her grandmother for a few weeks while her parents were away and gran always went to Church.
Yvette tried to decide whether she liked the smell of the incense as it drifted round the Church. She looked at the assembled congregation; nearly all of them looked as old as her gran. The women all wearing shawls over their heads and the men in their Sunday best clothes. Everyone looked so bloomin' miserable. Bloomin' was a word she had heard her Grandpa use, and she liked it.
The voice of the priest droned on. At an age of only eleven years, she was not aware that it was a Mass in Latin. She knew that she couldn't understand a word he said. It would appear that not many others did either.
Her attention wandered to the decorations. She admired the windows, with their brightly coloured pieces of stained glass. The sun streaming through them cast patches of coloured light over members of the congregation as they sat engrossed in their prayers. She wondered if the lady in the pew opposite realised that she had a picture of Jesus projected onto her white coat.
She turned back to the window and found Jesus with his disciples and a flock of sheep. In another window were depictions of Noah and his ark, with some animals walking up the gang plank. There were a number of other panels which she couldn't quite work out and, of course, there was a picture of a crucified Jesus. He wore only a loin cloth and his crown of thorns. His arms were outstretched and there were big red splodges of colour on his palms. In his side there was a red gash and his feet were crossed and had another big red splodge. She knew what all this was because they had discussed it last Easter at junior school.
Her gaze moved towards the front of the Church and there, on a side wall, hung a huge crucifix. She was impressed by the sheer size; Jesus must have been ten feet tall. It was painted in subdued colours and she checked to see that all the details were the same as those on the window. She managed to find all three nails and found the wound in his side. She looked at the crown of thorns and wondered what it would feel like to wear. You would have to put it on very gently or else it would hurt very badly.
She tried to imagine herself hanging like that, supported on only three nails. What would it feel like, what would the pain be like? Apart from the wounds, she knew it would hurt from the times she had hung from the horizontal bars in the park by her arms. It took only a few seconds before she had to let go.
As she grew from that young girl of eleven through her teenage years, she would often visit her gran and would now almost look forward to visiting the Church with her. If her visit was during the week her gran was always more than happy to accompany her. It was an opportunity for gran to say a few prayers, say confession, light a candle for someone or just put most of her pension in the offertory box.
While her gran went about her business Yvette would sit in the pew nearest the crucifix. She would gaze with wonder at the statue. She would think of the pain in his hands and feet, and the strain on his shoulder sockets. She tried to reconcile the loss of blood from his wounds if he moved too much and opened them up. Surely there would be insects and birds all paying him their attention in the heat of the day.
Once she imagined that she was a woman from Galilee and that somehow, she was condemned to be crucified. How would she feel? Would she be stripped of her clothing? Would she retain her loincloth? People would be able to see everything including her breasts which were now filling out nicely and the private area between her legs where a soft coating of blonde hair was just beginning to grow.
She remembered from pictures of the crucifixion that there was a crowd watching. How awful it would be to be exposed to the gaze of all those men, soldiers, sightseers and even, women. She imagined herself being held by two soldiers while another ripped the sackcloth dress from her young adult body. If she was big enough to be wearing a strophium to support her breasts, this too might be torn from her. Surely, if Jesus could keep his loincloth, her pussy would remain covered. Pants in those days would be a simple strip of white cotton material stretched between her legs and then tied at each hip with a leather thong. She imagined the guards using their knives to cut the thongs, and allowing her pants to fall to the ground at her feet. All the men would see her exposed mons with its thin covering of golden hair. As Yvette thought these things through, she began to feel a thrill and she knew that she would find that her panties were wet when she got back to gran's.
This was the reason she kept coming back. The religion meant nothing to her but viewing the crucifixion never failed to get her thinking about being the victim and what it would be like to be crucified. She thought silly things like, what would you do if you needed the toilet? Probably, she would just have to let herself go in front of a huge crowd. That thought embarrassed her and made her face colour up just thinking about it.
When she returned home after these visits she began to cast around for a Church near to where she lived. She opted for Catholic because they tended to have the better statues. Eventually, she found a suitable Church and started to make regular pilgrimages there.
On the day of her eighteenth birthday, she was due to have a big family celebration in the evening. So she decided to have a private celebration of her own eighteenth birthday with a trip to the Church. It was her aim to think all her thoughts about crucifixion and then go home and give herself a lovely orgasm.
She was sitting in the Church while a Mass was in progress. There were three clergy in attendance; a couple of wardens in dark gowns plus two girls about the same age as herself, acting as servers or whatever. The girls wore plain white surplices, with bare legs and simple black pumps on their feet. As the girls went about their duties, Yvette began to wonder what they might be wearing under the surplice. She tried to catch them between herself and a bright beam of sunlight to see if an outline was visible. Even as she was thinking these wicked thoughts, she knew enough about God to expect a bolt of lightning to strike her down at any moment.
Perhaps they were wearing nothing. Why not? The surplice completely covered them and it was a hot day. If it were Yvette, she would have stripped everything off in the vestry and just worn the surplice. She though how sexy it would be, collecting money from all these old codgers, knowing of her own nakedness while they were completely oblivious. God, if only they knew how close they were to a bit of moist young pussy, that might put a smile on their miserable faces.
The offertory had been collected and all the plates ended up at the back of the Church. The proceeds were tipped into one large plate which was held by one of the girls, the one with long blonde hair. Then, accompanied by two wardens, she was escorted up the centre aisle carrying the heavy plate held out in front of her in a gesture of subservient offering.
Yvette looked at this spectacle and her mind started racing. The wardens, each of who carried a wand, a long wooden stick with a silver cross on top, were walking either side of her and slightly behind. They carried their wand over their outside shoulder as they walked along in a tight group. Yvette considered the scene, the wardens dressed in black, while walking between them, the young girl in pure white with a long flow of blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. Yvette imagined that the inner arm of each crucifer was linked with the arms of the girl. They marched her up the aisle to the altar and she gently placed the collection plate at one end of the altar.
Then the 'guards', still gripping her arms, wheeled her round to face the congregation. The Priest stood behind the girl with his hands on her shoulders. He intoned a blessing in Latin and then proceeded to rip the surplice from her shoulders until it fell in a puddle around her feet. She tried to cover her nakedness with her hands and arms but the two guards prevented this. Yvette considered the shame and humiliation that the girl would feel, naked in front of her own congregation.
The Priest moved to one side and she was lifted and laid over the altar. Her head was to the back and tilted to one side as she tried to see what was going on. Her knees reached the front and her lower legs hung down. The guards forced her legs apart and placed her feet into stirrups which were fixed to the front of the altar. Her legs were held firmly apart. Her pussy was in full view of the congregation. Then the guards stretched her arms out sideways and her wrists were shackled to the two huge candle sticks that stood on the altar.
Yvette, who was extremely wet by now, tried to imagine the view from above. This poor naked girl with her arms spread in a crucified position. Her legs splayed apart and a patch of marble altar slab visible in the triangle formed by her thighs and the front edge of the giant table.
The priest then spread the host out on her naked breasts. He consecrated the wine by pouring it from an ornate silver jug over her pussy from where it trickled slowly down into a shallow vessel located between her legs. The general congregation were served Communion at the altar rail by one of the assisting priests who had his own supply of host and wine. Meanwhile, the great and the good took their Communion at the virgin altar.
The priest placed the host in their mouths and then they lapped a little wine from the vessel between the girl's legs. Before raising their heads, they would kiss the girl gently on her sex by way of thanks. Yvette imagined that she felt the odd one run their tongue between her nether lips causing a tremble in her gut. The women were doing it as well as the men. Indeed the women felt better, they seemed to know what excited a girl.
Yvette came to her senses and realised that she had been dreaming. But she had been imagining that it had been herself in the surplice, her body on display and her that had been used as an altar. The thought thrilled her and she was now so close to the orgasm she had promised herself.
As the congregation filed out of the Church, Yvette remained in her place, wondering how her 'imagined' service might have ended.
The priest took a lighted red candle and, while intoning a blessing over the girl's body he dripped the scalding hot candle wax onto her delicate nipples, tummy and mons. Yvette imagined how much it would hurt but also how much it would thrill. The hurt would depend on the height from which it was poured and the quantity in any single dose. She imagined the tightness in the skin as the wax dried. She had experimented on herself one evening when she was home alone. But it would be so much better if someone else was in control.
The blessing over, the guards would release her from her bonds, turn her to face the altar and fasten her ankles with her legs splayed wide. Then she would be pushed forward until her breasts touched the cold marble. Her wrists would once again be fastened to the candle sticks. She could not move, the twin globes of her pale white ass were on show and between her legs could be seen the entrance to her young virgin pussy. He walked up to the girl and, taking the ampulla of chrism from the altar he proceeded to anoint her genitalia with the warm oil.
Yvette knew that she would squirm as she felt the fingers probing her tight slit but now, the thought just made her wetter. The fear must be growing in the young girl. She struggled against her bonds but to no avail. The Priest stood behind her, reached down to the front his Alb and withdrew his erect penis through a vertical slit which had been strategically formed in the front of the vestment.
He grasped her slender hips and used them to pull himself onto her quaking body. He felt the resistance of her hymen and then, with a hard thrust, he broke through to reach the heaven beyond. The girl's body shuddered with the pain and she let out a cry as she felt the Priest tearing her maidenhead. She sobbed gently as the Priest started to stroke in and out of her. As his penis came almost out, ready for the next thrust, the blood from her broken hymen could be seen on his shaft.
He increased the depth, strength and rate of his thrusts. This was not planned as a tender de-flowering such as that which might happen between two young lovers. The Priest's only aim was to deliver the biggest parcel of seed into this girl's womb. He had been watching her from the time she joined the Church. He watched her blossom into the young woman she now was. It was he that gave her the job of serving in Church. Well now, she could serve him instead of God. As he thrust inside her he imagined that she was a sacrifice, her precious virginity an offering to his God. It was his duty to take her and the energy of his exploding ecstasy would rise up to heaven as a gift. At this point he had the most crashing orgasm and jetted his hot seed into sullied womb.
Then the guards would each take their turn. One had been using the girl's mouth to build his erection while the Priest performed. Now the other took over and awaited his turn in the pussy. When they had finished taking what they wanted from her poor bruised body she would be left to rest, her heated pussy facing the body of the Church. Yvette imagined the steady stream of white fluid mixed with the colour of blood dripping slowly to pool on the floor beneath.
Well that's how it would have ended if it had been me, thought Yvette, as she rubbed her fingers over her pussy. She had put her hand up her skirt and was going to have her orgasm in the Church. Why wait until she got home? As she felt it rising she concentrated on the image of herself on the altar. She could feel the Priest's huge cock thrusting inside her as she lay on her back with her legs splayed. In reality, she was vigorously stroking her pussy with her fingers. When she eventually came it was mind blowing. It arose inside her until she could contain it no longer. One final touch on her clit and she came. She made some noise but not as much as she would normally.
She kept stroking as wave after wave crashed over her. She knew she had to keep going until it was all out, until she could bear it no more. When the moment came she knew it was time to stop. Her head was spinning she felt exhausted and out of breath. A feeling of euphoria flowed over her as she rested and licked the sweet juices from her moist fingers.
A voice spoke softly. "Sorry to disturb your meditation young lady, but I thought I heard a noise."
It was the priest looking down at her.
Fortunately, she wasn't draped over the altar; she was still safely in the pew. Had he heard her orgasm? How loud had it been? Had he seen her? And if so, how much had he seen. No wonder he was smiling.
Yvette was smiling herself as she picked up her purse. "You got your oats you randy old goat but I got mine too. I bet you don't realise how big and tight your fantasy prick felt in my fantasy cunt."
As she strolled down the aisle to the awaiting sunshine, she hoped that she hadn't actually said that out aloud. Oh well.
to be continued …….
Yvette's Dream - Pt I
Yvette sat in the Church and tried hard, so hard, not to fidget. She did not normally go to Church but she was stopping with her grandmother for a few weeks while her parents were away and gran always went to Church.
Yvette tried to decide whether she liked the smell of the incense as it drifted round the Church. She looked at the assembled congregation; nearly all of them looked as old as her gran. The women all wearing shawls over their heads and the men in their Sunday best clothes. Everyone looked so bloomin' miserable. Bloomin' was a word she had heard her Grandpa use, and she liked it.
The voice of the priest droned on. At an age of only eleven years, she was not aware that it was a Mass in Latin. She knew that she couldn't understand a word he said. It would appear that not many others did either.
Her attention wandered to the decorations. She admired the windows, with their brightly coloured pieces of stained glass. The sun streaming through them cast patches of coloured light over members of the congregation as they sat engrossed in their prayers. She wondered if the lady in the pew opposite realised that she had a picture of Jesus projected onto her white coat.
She turned back to the window and found Jesus with his disciples and a flock of sheep. In another window were depictions of Noah and his ark, with some animals walking up the gang plank. There were a number of other panels which she couldn't quite work out and, of course, there was a picture of a crucified Jesus. He wore only a loin cloth and his crown of thorns. His arms were outstretched and there were big red splodges of colour on his palms. In his side there was a red gash and his feet were crossed and had another big red splodge. She knew what all this was because they had discussed it last Easter at junior school.
Her gaze moved towards the front of the Church and there, on a side wall, hung a huge crucifix. She was impressed by the sheer size; Jesus must have been ten feet tall. It was painted in subdued colours and she checked to see that all the details were the same as those on the window. She managed to find all three nails and found the wound in his side. She looked at the crown of thorns and wondered what it would feel like to wear. You would have to put it on very gently or else it would hurt very badly.
She tried to imagine herself hanging like that, supported on only three nails. What would it feel like, what would the pain be like? Apart from the wounds, she knew it would hurt from the times she had hung from the horizontal bars in the park by her arms. It took only a few seconds before she had to let go.
As she grew from that young girl of eleven through her teenage years, she would often visit her gran and would now almost look forward to visiting the Church with her. If her visit was during the week her gran was always more than happy to accompany her. It was an opportunity for gran to say a few prayers, say confession, light a candle for someone or just put most of her pension in the offertory box.
While her gran went about her business Yvette would sit in the pew nearest the crucifix. She would gaze with wonder at the statue. She would think of the pain in his hands and feet, and the strain on his shoulder sockets. She tried to reconcile the loss of blood from his wounds if he moved too much and opened them up. Surely there would be insects and birds all paying him their attention in the heat of the day.
Once she imagined that she was a woman from Galilee and that somehow, she was condemned to be crucified. How would she feel? Would she be stripped of her clothing? Would she retain her loincloth? People would be able to see everything including her breasts which were now filling out nicely and the private area between her legs where a soft coating of blonde hair was just beginning to grow.
She remembered from pictures of the crucifixion that there was a crowd watching. How awful it would be to be exposed to the gaze of all those men, soldiers, sightseers and even, women. She imagined herself being held by two soldiers while another ripped the sackcloth dress from her young adult body. If she was big enough to be wearing a strophium to support her breasts, this too might be torn from her. Surely, if Jesus could keep his loincloth, her pussy would remain covered. Pants in those days would be a simple strip of white cotton material stretched between her legs and then tied at each hip with a leather thong. She imagined the guards using their knives to cut the thongs, and allowing her pants to fall to the ground at her feet. All the men would see her exposed mons with its thin covering of golden hair. As Yvette thought these things through, she began to feel a thrill and she knew that she would find that her panties were wet when she got back to gran's.
This was the reason she kept coming back. The religion meant nothing to her but viewing the crucifixion never failed to get her thinking about being the victim and what it would be like to be crucified. She thought silly things like, what would you do if you needed the toilet? Probably, she would just have to let herself go in front of a huge crowd. That thought embarrassed her and made her face colour up just thinking about it.
When she returned home after these visits she began to cast around for a Church near to where she lived. She opted for Catholic because they tended to have the better statues. Eventually, she found a suitable Church and started to make regular pilgrimages there.
On the day of her eighteenth birthday, she was due to have a big family celebration in the evening. So she decided to have a private celebration of her own eighteenth birthday with a trip to the Church. It was her aim to think all her thoughts about crucifixion and then go home and give herself a lovely orgasm.
She was sitting in the Church while a Mass was in progress. There were three clergy in attendance; a couple of wardens in dark gowns plus two girls about the same age as herself, acting as servers or whatever. The girls wore plain white surplices, with bare legs and simple black pumps on their feet. As the girls went about their duties, Yvette began to wonder what they might be wearing under the surplice. She tried to catch them between herself and a bright beam of sunlight to see if an outline was visible. Even as she was thinking these wicked thoughts, she knew enough about God to expect a bolt of lightning to strike her down at any moment.
Perhaps they were wearing nothing. Why not? The surplice completely covered them and it was a hot day. If it were Yvette, she would have stripped everything off in the vestry and just worn the surplice. She though how sexy it would be, collecting money from all these old codgers, knowing of her own nakedness while they were completely oblivious. God, if only they knew how close they were to a bit of moist young pussy, that might put a smile on their miserable faces.
The offertory had been collected and all the plates ended up at the back of the Church. The proceeds were tipped into one large plate which was held by one of the girls, the one with long blonde hair. Then, accompanied by two wardens, she was escorted up the centre aisle carrying the heavy plate held out in front of her in a gesture of subservient offering.
Yvette looked at this spectacle and her mind started racing. The wardens, each of who carried a wand, a long wooden stick with a silver cross on top, were walking either side of her and slightly behind. They carried their wand over their outside shoulder as they walked along in a tight group. Yvette considered the scene, the wardens dressed in black, while walking between them, the young girl in pure white with a long flow of blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. Yvette imagined that the inner arm of each crucifer was linked with the arms of the girl. They marched her up the aisle to the altar and she gently placed the collection plate at one end of the altar.
Then the 'guards', still gripping her arms, wheeled her round to face the congregation. The Priest stood behind the girl with his hands on her shoulders. He intoned a blessing in Latin and then proceeded to rip the surplice from her shoulders until it fell in a puddle around her feet. She tried to cover her nakedness with her hands and arms but the two guards prevented this. Yvette considered the shame and humiliation that the girl would feel, naked in front of her own congregation.
The Priest moved to one side and she was lifted and laid over the altar. Her head was to the back and tilted to one side as she tried to see what was going on. Her knees reached the front and her lower legs hung down. The guards forced her legs apart and placed her feet into stirrups which were fixed to the front of the altar. Her legs were held firmly apart. Her pussy was in full view of the congregation. Then the guards stretched her arms out sideways and her wrists were shackled to the two huge candle sticks that stood on the altar.
Yvette, who was extremely wet by now, tried to imagine the view from above. This poor naked girl with her arms spread in a crucified position. Her legs splayed apart and a patch of marble altar slab visible in the triangle formed by her thighs and the front edge of the giant table.
The priest then spread the host out on her naked breasts. He consecrated the wine by pouring it from an ornate silver jug over her pussy from where it trickled slowly down into a shallow vessel located between her legs. The general congregation were served Communion at the altar rail by one of the assisting priests who had his own supply of host and wine. Meanwhile, the great and the good took their Communion at the virgin altar.
The priest placed the host in their mouths and then they lapped a little wine from the vessel between the girl's legs. Before raising their heads, they would kiss the girl gently on her sex by way of thanks. Yvette imagined that she felt the odd one run their tongue between her nether lips causing a tremble in her gut. The women were doing it as well as the men. Indeed the women felt better, they seemed to know what excited a girl.
Yvette came to her senses and realised that she had been dreaming. But she had been imagining that it had been herself in the surplice, her body on display and her that had been used as an altar. The thought thrilled her and she was now so close to the orgasm she had promised herself.
As the congregation filed out of the Church, Yvette remained in her place, wondering how her 'imagined' service might have ended.
The priest took a lighted red candle and, while intoning a blessing over the girl's body he dripped the scalding hot candle wax onto her delicate nipples, tummy and mons. Yvette imagined how much it would hurt but also how much it would thrill. The hurt would depend on the height from which it was poured and the quantity in any single dose. She imagined the tightness in the skin as the wax dried. She had experimented on herself one evening when she was home alone. But it would be so much better if someone else was in control.
The blessing over, the guards would release her from her bonds, turn her to face the altar and fasten her ankles with her legs splayed wide. Then she would be pushed forward until her breasts touched the cold marble. Her wrists would once again be fastened to the candle sticks. She could not move, the twin globes of her pale white ass were on show and between her legs could be seen the entrance to her young virgin pussy. He walked up to the girl and, taking the ampulla of chrism from the altar he proceeded to anoint her genitalia with the warm oil.
Yvette knew that she would squirm as she felt the fingers probing her tight slit but now, the thought just made her wetter. The fear must be growing in the young girl. She struggled against her bonds but to no avail. The Priest stood behind her, reached down to the front his Alb and withdrew his erect penis through a vertical slit which had been strategically formed in the front of the vestment.
He grasped her slender hips and used them to pull himself onto her quaking body. He felt the resistance of her hymen and then, with a hard thrust, he broke through to reach the heaven beyond. The girl's body shuddered with the pain and she let out a cry as she felt the Priest tearing her maidenhead. She sobbed gently as the Priest started to stroke in and out of her. As his penis came almost out, ready for the next thrust, the blood from her broken hymen could be seen on his shaft.
He increased the depth, strength and rate of his thrusts. This was not planned as a tender de-flowering such as that which might happen between two young lovers. The Priest's only aim was to deliver the biggest parcel of seed into this girl's womb. He had been watching her from the time she joined the Church. He watched her blossom into the young woman she now was. It was he that gave her the job of serving in Church. Well now, she could serve him instead of God. As he thrust inside her he imagined that she was a sacrifice, her precious virginity an offering to his God. It was his duty to take her and the energy of his exploding ecstasy would rise up to heaven as a gift. At this point he had the most crashing orgasm and jetted his hot seed into sullied womb.
Then the guards would each take their turn. One had been using the girl's mouth to build his erection while the Priest performed. Now the other took over and awaited his turn in the pussy. When they had finished taking what they wanted from her poor bruised body she would be left to rest, her heated pussy facing the body of the Church. Yvette imagined the steady stream of white fluid mixed with the colour of blood dripping slowly to pool on the floor beneath.
Well that's how it would have ended if it had been me, thought Yvette, as she rubbed her fingers over her pussy. She had put her hand up her skirt and was going to have her orgasm in the Church. Why wait until she got home? As she felt it rising she concentrated on the image of herself on the altar. She could feel the Priest's huge cock thrusting inside her as she lay on her back with her legs splayed. In reality, she was vigorously stroking her pussy with her fingers. When she eventually came it was mind blowing. It arose inside her until she could contain it no longer. One final touch on her clit and she came. She made some noise but not as much as she would normally.
She kept stroking as wave after wave crashed over her. She knew she had to keep going until it was all out, until she could bear it no more. When the moment came she knew it was time to stop. Her head was spinning she felt exhausted and out of breath. A feeling of euphoria flowed over her as she rested and licked the sweet juices from her moist fingers.
A voice spoke softly. "Sorry to disturb your meditation young lady, but I thought I heard a noise."
It was the priest looking down at her.
Fortunately, she wasn't draped over the altar; she was still safely in the pew. Had he heard her orgasm? How loud had it been? Had he seen her? And if so, how much had he seen. No wonder he was smiling.
Yvette was smiling herself as she picked up her purse. "You got your oats you randy old goat but I got mine too. I bet you don't realise how big and tight your fantasy prick felt in my fantasy cunt."
As she strolled down the aisle to the awaiting sunshine, she hoped that she hadn't actually said that out aloud. Oh well.
to be continued …….
