joe stevens
Assistant executioner
A quite amazing story, beautifully written...thank you.
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Great chapter, Sassi. Julia goes through stages, pain and pleasure and satisfaction, pride and humiliation, each is hers for a time. She has built up to this moment, lived for it, and no she is living it, intimately and fully. Inescapably.
Somehow the absent witness of the camera adds to the drama, she is suffering and humiliated alone, but her suffering will be seen, her humiliation will be known. She leaves behind her sense of shame, she bares everything. There is no other choice for her.
D
Deleted member 16639
Guest
Thank you all for your nice feedback.
D
Deleted member 16639
Guest
A Dream Comes True: chapter 6
(written by Sassi and translated by great Eulalia)
Mr. Pain came back. All the time, he had never been away. He‘d never really gone. But now he was like a tsunami over her, excruciating, unbearable. But Julia had to bear it. She let out a loud cry, then another, then more. She heaved herself up and pressed back, writhing on the cross.
Now Mr. Pain was holding her captive and he would not let her go for a secondJulia hung howling on the cross. Again and again she hauled herself up. She performed on the bar like an Indian temple dancer. She was twisting in agony, she knew she had to keep still, it would not hurt so, when she struggled wildly the pain was even worse, and yet no way could she stop.
Screaming so loudly, she didn‘t hear the hovercar. Only when the gym door swung open did shebcome aware. With great relief she saw a masked man coming across the hall towards her. Never had she enjoyed the sight of a man so much, at last someone had come! Now she’d be saved!
She managed to stop jerking about. "Thank God!" she cried, "I thought you’d never come!" She heaved herself up reluctantly, "Please!" she gasped, "It's enough, it‘s more than enough. I can‘t stand any more, honestly!" She stumbled in her speech, stammering, "Let me down, right? I beg you! I’ve really had enough! I‘ve experienced it, experienced my first crucifixion, and it was really, but I can‘t stand any more! No more! Please let me down!"
The masked man set up a stepladder in front of her on the floor and climbed up to her level. He held a bottle to her mouth. "Drink! You must be very thirsty." That was true, she was very, very thirsty. She drank in small, quick gulps. She couldn‘t stop. When the first bottle was empty, the man held out a second, she drank that, God it was good!
" Thanks," she whispered, "that's what I really needed." "I thought so," the man whispered through his mask, "you‘ve got a pretty coat of sweat." He nodded his head to the large puddle on the floor. "You 've lost water in another way, too." She could see him grinning under his mask. "That will please Flogger33, he was betting on that. So was I for that matter."
He raised his hand and stroked Julia's face. "How did it feel? Did you try to defend yourself against it? Were you struggling to not pee in front of cameras? Did you lose the battle and have to do it? Poor little girl on the cross, that's the way it is. On the cross you lose every fight. You knew that in advance, didn’t you?"
"Okay," she said. She was ashamed because the man had discovered the puddle, but that had to be expected, the small lake on the gym floor couldn’t be overlooked. "Okay, yes, everything was filmed. Will you let me finish now? Please? I‘ve really had enough, believe me."
The masked man climbed down off the ladder, closed it together and took it away. Then he came back and stood in front of Julia. He was careful not to step into the big puddle in front of the cross. "It must have quite spurted out of you!" he said. "Please," she begged, "That's enough. You can‘t imagine how much pain I’ve been in. Please save me." The man shook his head, "That can’t happen, Nightgirl."
" What?!" She was startled, "Why not? Why…? Have you got no tools with you? Okay, no problem, call to the police. Use a disguised voice, tell them you heard loud screaming outside the city, in the school enclosure, loud screams – then they’ll come and set me free!"
The man went to the cameras. Calmly he replaced the batteries and reset the memory. Small red lights glowed beside the cold eyes of the camera lenses. The electronic paparazzi were back at work, they were staring at Julia on the cross, they could see everything, they’d record everything. They saw a naked, utterly desperate girl on a great wooden cross. The naked girl was nailed hands and feet. The naked girl was writhing in pain. The naked girl was crying. The naked girl was begging. The naked girl was pleading,
"Let me down ! " the girl on the cross begged. She was squirming, stark naked, and absolutely helpless. "Please, please, let me down!" The masked man shook his head, "No, Nightgirl, that‘s not what we agreed. You‘ll stay on the cross until tomorrow morning, that’s the deal. That’s what we crucified you for. Till tomorrow morning, love."
"No! No!" shouted Julia despairingly, "not! It's not possible! Really! You can‘t imagine how I’m suffering, it's unbearable! I can‘t bear a minute more, do believe me! I can’t do it!"
" But you shall, Nightgirl" murmured the masked man, "It is possible. You shall endure it, until tomorrow morning. You wanted to be that way."
"No! No! " shrieked Julia, "Then I didn’t know how terrible it would be! I can‘t hold out until tomorrow morning, please don‘t make! Let me go, or call the police! Please!"
The man shook his head. Without another word he re-checked each camera in turn, then he departed.
"No! Don‘t go!" yelled Julia after him, "don‘t leave me alone! Don‘t go! Set me free! Release me! For God's sake, I beg you, release me, PEASE!!!"
The door slammed shut. Outside, a turbine started, Julia heard the hovercar glide away. She knew there was no reprieve. With a long, howling cry, she heave herself up, " Nooo!"
She was trembling. Her naked body was veneered with a thin film of sweat. "Oh God, no! Please not! Please not ! I can‘t do it! I can‘t bear it!" Her voice dropped to a faint whimpering, "No! Please help me someone! Please!"
She cursed herself because she had not thought to ask the masked man for a painkiller, at least would have helped for a little while enduring the cruel pain. But she hadn‘t thought of it.
Julia let her head sink, sobbing. She knew that before her lay hours and hours of agony. The evening had just begun, and the night was going to be so long – and so terrible...
The evening had just begun and the night was long - so terrible long.
(written by Sassi and translated by great Eulalia)
Mr. Pain came back. All the time, he had never been away. He‘d never really gone. But now he was like a tsunami over her, excruciating, unbearable. But Julia had to bear it. She let out a loud cry, then another, then more. She heaved herself up and pressed back, writhing on the cross.
Now Mr. Pain was holding her captive and he would not let her go for a secondJulia hung howling on the cross. Again and again she hauled herself up. She performed on the bar like an Indian temple dancer. She was twisting in agony, she knew she had to keep still, it would not hurt so, when she struggled wildly the pain was even worse, and yet no way could she stop.
Screaming so loudly, she didn‘t hear the hovercar. Only when the gym door swung open did shebcome aware. With great relief she saw a masked man coming across the hall towards her. Never had she enjoyed the sight of a man so much, at last someone had come! Now she’d be saved!
She managed to stop jerking about. "Thank God!" she cried, "I thought you’d never come!" She heaved herself up reluctantly, "Please!" she gasped, "It's enough, it‘s more than enough. I can‘t stand any more, honestly!" She stumbled in her speech, stammering, "Let me down, right? I beg you! I’ve really had enough! I‘ve experienced it, experienced my first crucifixion, and it was really, but I can‘t stand any more! No more! Please let me down!"
The masked man set up a stepladder in front of her on the floor and climbed up to her level. He held a bottle to her mouth. "Drink! You must be very thirsty." That was true, she was very, very thirsty. She drank in small, quick gulps. She couldn‘t stop. When the first bottle was empty, the man held out a second, she drank that, God it was good!
" Thanks," she whispered, "that's what I really needed." "I thought so," the man whispered through his mask, "you‘ve got a pretty coat of sweat." He nodded his head to the large puddle on the floor. "You 've lost water in another way, too." She could see him grinning under his mask. "That will please Flogger33, he was betting on that. So was I for that matter."
He raised his hand and stroked Julia's face. "How did it feel? Did you try to defend yourself against it? Were you struggling to not pee in front of cameras? Did you lose the battle and have to do it? Poor little girl on the cross, that's the way it is. On the cross you lose every fight. You knew that in advance, didn’t you?"
"Okay," she said. She was ashamed because the man had discovered the puddle, but that had to be expected, the small lake on the gym floor couldn’t be overlooked. "Okay, yes, everything was filmed. Will you let me finish now? Please? I‘ve really had enough, believe me."
The masked man climbed down off the ladder, closed it together and took it away. Then he came back and stood in front of Julia. He was careful not to step into the big puddle in front of the cross. "It must have quite spurted out of you!" he said. "Please," she begged, "That's enough. You can‘t imagine how much pain I’ve been in. Please save me." The man shook his head, "That can’t happen, Nightgirl."
" What?!" She was startled, "Why not? Why…? Have you got no tools with you? Okay, no problem, call to the police. Use a disguised voice, tell them you heard loud screaming outside the city, in the school enclosure, loud screams – then they’ll come and set me free!"
The man went to the cameras. Calmly he replaced the batteries and reset the memory. Small red lights glowed beside the cold eyes of the camera lenses. The electronic paparazzi were back at work, they were staring at Julia on the cross, they could see everything, they’d record everything. They saw a naked, utterly desperate girl on a great wooden cross. The naked girl was nailed hands and feet. The naked girl was writhing in pain. The naked girl was crying. The naked girl was begging. The naked girl was pleading,
"Let me down ! " the girl on the cross begged. She was squirming, stark naked, and absolutely helpless. "Please, please, let me down!" The masked man shook his head, "No, Nightgirl, that‘s not what we agreed. You‘ll stay on the cross until tomorrow morning, that’s the deal. That’s what we crucified you for. Till tomorrow morning, love."
"No! No!" shouted Julia despairingly, "not! It's not possible! Really! You can‘t imagine how I’m suffering, it's unbearable! I can‘t bear a minute more, do believe me! I can’t do it!"
" But you shall, Nightgirl" murmured the masked man, "It is possible. You shall endure it, until tomorrow morning. You wanted to be that way."
"No! No! " shrieked Julia, "Then I didn’t know how terrible it would be! I can‘t hold out until tomorrow morning, please don‘t make! Let me go, or call the police! Please!"
The man shook his head. Without another word he re-checked each camera in turn, then he departed.
"No! Don‘t go!" yelled Julia after him, "don‘t leave me alone! Don‘t go! Set me free! Release me! For God's sake, I beg you, release me, PEASE!!!"
The door slammed shut. Outside, a turbine started, Julia heard the hovercar glide away. She knew there was no reprieve. With a long, howling cry, she heave herself up, " Nooo!"
She was trembling. Her naked body was veneered with a thin film of sweat. "Oh God, no! Please not! Please not ! I can‘t do it! I can‘t bear it!" Her voice dropped to a faint whimpering, "No! Please help me someone! Please!"
She cursed herself because she had not thought to ask the masked man for a painkiller, at least would have helped for a little while enduring the cruel pain. But she hadn‘t thought of it.
Julia let her head sink, sobbing. She knew that before her lay hours and hours of agony. The evening had just begun, and the night was going to be so long – and so terrible...
The evening had just begun and the night was long - so terrible long.
Bravo Sassi!
Another very powerful chapter!!! Accolades and applause... Have a nice night, Julia...
...By the way, in the US, the following Monday is Federal Holiday... The janitor has the day off...
...
How does Tuesday morning sound to you???
...By the way, in the US, the following Monday is Federal Holiday... The janitor has the day off...
...How does Tuesday morning sound to you???
D
Deleted member 16639
Guest
Dear readers. If you believe it or not: that dream is MY dream since years. All I need is that "Auto-Doc-Unit". If this special healing-unit would exist: I would try do endure my dream. 
D
Deleted member 16639
Guest
Thank you for enjoying my story. 
D
Deleted member 16639
Guest
A Dream Comes True – chapter 7
(written by Sassi and translated by great Eulalia)
Julia was fighting on the cross, writhing, sobbing against the wood, she couldn‘t stop at all. Her every movement added to the strength of the monstrous pain, yet sh couldn‘t keep still. She was howling as she danced on the cross, hauling herself up, sagging down. She moved her abdomen, sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right. She arched her back, and hung stretched out like a bow in the air front of the cross, held only by the nails in her hands and feet.
It was unbelievable, how could four small iron objects inflict such terrible pain? She cried and cried, she squealed in the highest falsetto, she shouted herself hoarse. Trembling, she climbed up and down on the cross. She spread her knees a little way apart, then pressed them together again, she pressed down, squeezing through her legs. She pulled herself up with her arms.
" Help ! " she shouted, "Help! Help me! Help! I'm here! In the gym! I‘m nailed to a cross! I’ve been crucified! Help me!" But no one came. No one helped her. Julia was all alone.
Eventually, completely exhausted, she collapsed. "Help me ! " she whimpered. She was sobbing, her teeth were chattering, she was sweating buckets, it was dripping from her forehead down her body, the length of her legs.
"Please help me! Oh, please set me free!" But there was no salvation. Julia knew she‘d have to remain there until tomorrow morning on the cross - a terrible thought!
Down below her on the floor of the gymnasium were the cameras filming with her cold, pitiless eyes. They were a crowd of unfeeling robots who missed not the smallest detail. Those evil, vile cameras! How cold and still they were down there, staring up at her!
Julia looked at the big puddle under her cross. She knew she‘d have to pee again soon. It would increase the small lake in front of the cross. Her urine hadn’t seeped into the wood, the parquet floor was polished and waxed. A great rarity, nearly all gymnasiums now have synthetic flooring.
Julia knew the hall floor, she’d performed gymnastics on this wooden floor when she was still a schoolgirl – yes, she‘d been a pupil at this school in the suburbs, how often had her bare feet danced in gymnastics on this wooden floor!
The floor would give slightly under her feet, sometimes she’d heard a kind of gentle creaking as if it were alive. Everywhere one could see small squares among the boards, these could be lifted out, she knew, to put in apparatus, the supports for a beam or frame, for example - or a cross!
Julia remembered how they’d done gymnastics in this hall. Her gym teacher had insisted that the girls all did gymnastics barefoot, this strengthens the tendons and ligaments, or so she claimed. but probably she just wanted to prevent the girls from the wealthy families coming with outrageously expensive designer trainers. So they always did gymnastics in bare feet.
Julia liked that. She enjoyed running about barefoot. She loved to feel the different surfaces under her bare soles. Being barefoot gave her a sense of freedom. And of course, you have to be barefoot to be crucified - how often had she dreamed of that during gym classes!
She and her classmates would be nailed onto crosses in the gym, naked, and they‘d have to endure it for hours. Her favorite fantasy was watching in her imagination as her classmates were pierced with nails through their bare feet. She knew it would hurt very much.
When she was just ten, she‘d once walked barefoot in the shed behind her grannie’s house, and she’d stepped on a board that was lying around with a little thin nail protruding that had pierced into her unprotected sole a centimeter deep. She’d shrieked in pain, even this small nail had hurt her a lot, and the wound in her sole was still painful for several days.
And so in gym lessons she’d always had those fantasies of watching how her classmates were put on crosses, and she watched in how the nails were driven through the girls‘ feet - oh, how they screamed and cried! They heaved up their bodies, they begged for mercy, they pleaded, they wept so loudly...
She felt sorry for the suffering girls, but she loved to imagine it, her classmates being nailed, she had a burning desire to be able to really experience it, and of course to be nailed to a cross herself!
This longing had been with her almost all her life - and now she was really experiencing it! It was exactly as she‘d always imagined, cruel, appalling, intolerable, quite unbearable. Yet she she was bearing it. Hadn‘t she yelled, as soon as the cross was raised up, that she couldn‘t bear it any longer, not a single minute more?
But she‘d had to bear it, she was bearing it still. She had to bear it, even though it was unbearable. She felt proud. She was holding out, she was enduing it, she was doing what she had to do. The cross was holding her captive and torturing her, the cross was completely mastering her, every moment, as she was writhing naked on the wood, she was being conquered and humiliated by the cross.
"This is exactly what I wanted," whispered Julia, "I knew it would be awful. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand it. And yet I am bearing it, because I have no choice.“ It was an incredible feeling, simply incredible.
She thought about how it will be when she’s found tomorrow morning. She’d have to dish up some story for the police. That she’d had been kidnapped outside the town and brought here and crucified in the gym. She couldn’t imagine telling the officers she’d volunteered, that she was just fulfilling greatest dream.
The pressure on her bladder was increasing, I have to go soon, she thought. She looked down at the cameras, they were filming diligently each of her movements on the cross. The masked men would edit the best scenes into a short film, that would be their reward for Julia's crucifixion, she’d even get a recording herself.
So, film me! she thought defiantly. She arched her back and swung floated like a figurehead in front of the cross, she pressing with all her strength. A powerful jet gushed out of her and splashed onto the floor, enlarging the lake under the cross. This time she felt no shame, she did defiantly, wild and free.
Yes, free, free as never before in her life. Although four strong nails were holding her on the cross, she felt an unimaginable freedom, she seemed to be floating, floating in an ocean of agony and pain, but floating. She was free, because she‘d given herself up to it voluntarily.
"I am free," said Julia loudly and clearly, "I am free!“
(written by Sassi and translated by great Eulalia)
Julia was fighting on the cross, writhing, sobbing against the wood, she couldn‘t stop at all. Her every movement added to the strength of the monstrous pain, yet sh couldn‘t keep still. She was howling as she danced on the cross, hauling herself up, sagging down. She moved her abdomen, sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right. She arched her back, and hung stretched out like a bow in the air front of the cross, held only by the nails in her hands and feet.
It was unbelievable, how could four small iron objects inflict such terrible pain? She cried and cried, she squealed in the highest falsetto, she shouted herself hoarse. Trembling, she climbed up and down on the cross. She spread her knees a little way apart, then pressed them together again, she pressed down, squeezing through her legs. She pulled herself up with her arms.
" Help ! " she shouted, "Help! Help me! Help! I'm here! In the gym! I‘m nailed to a cross! I’ve been crucified! Help me!" But no one came. No one helped her. Julia was all alone.
Eventually, completely exhausted, she collapsed. "Help me ! " she whimpered. She was sobbing, her teeth were chattering, she was sweating buckets, it was dripping from her forehead down her body, the length of her legs.
"Please help me! Oh, please set me free!" But there was no salvation. Julia knew she‘d have to remain there until tomorrow morning on the cross - a terrible thought!
Down below her on the floor of the gymnasium were the cameras filming with her cold, pitiless eyes. They were a crowd of unfeeling robots who missed not the smallest detail. Those evil, vile cameras! How cold and still they were down there, staring up at her!
Julia looked at the big puddle under her cross. She knew she‘d have to pee again soon. It would increase the small lake in front of the cross. Her urine hadn’t seeped into the wood, the parquet floor was polished and waxed. A great rarity, nearly all gymnasiums now have synthetic flooring.
Julia knew the hall floor, she’d performed gymnastics on this wooden floor when she was still a schoolgirl – yes, she‘d been a pupil at this school in the suburbs, how often had her bare feet danced in gymnastics on this wooden floor!
The floor would give slightly under her feet, sometimes she’d heard a kind of gentle creaking as if it were alive. Everywhere one could see small squares among the boards, these could be lifted out, she knew, to put in apparatus, the supports for a beam or frame, for example - or a cross!
Julia remembered how they’d done gymnastics in this hall. Her gym teacher had insisted that the girls all did gymnastics barefoot, this strengthens the tendons and ligaments, or so she claimed. but probably she just wanted to prevent the girls from the wealthy families coming with outrageously expensive designer trainers. So they always did gymnastics in bare feet.
Julia liked that. She enjoyed running about barefoot. She loved to feel the different surfaces under her bare soles. Being barefoot gave her a sense of freedom. And of course, you have to be barefoot to be crucified - how often had she dreamed of that during gym classes!
She and her classmates would be nailed onto crosses in the gym, naked, and they‘d have to endure it for hours. Her favorite fantasy was watching in her imagination as her classmates were pierced with nails through their bare feet. She knew it would hurt very much.
When she was just ten, she‘d once walked barefoot in the shed behind her grannie’s house, and she’d stepped on a board that was lying around with a little thin nail protruding that had pierced into her unprotected sole a centimeter deep. She’d shrieked in pain, even this small nail had hurt her a lot, and the wound in her sole was still painful for several days.
And so in gym lessons she’d always had those fantasies of watching how her classmates were put on crosses, and she watched in how the nails were driven through the girls‘ feet - oh, how they screamed and cried! They heaved up their bodies, they begged for mercy, they pleaded, they wept so loudly...
She felt sorry for the suffering girls, but she loved to imagine it, her classmates being nailed, she had a burning desire to be able to really experience it, and of course to be nailed to a cross herself!
This longing had been with her almost all her life - and now she was really experiencing it! It was exactly as she‘d always imagined, cruel, appalling, intolerable, quite unbearable. Yet she she was bearing it. Hadn‘t she yelled, as soon as the cross was raised up, that she couldn‘t bear it any longer, not a single minute more?
But she‘d had to bear it, she was bearing it still. She had to bear it, even though it was unbearable. She felt proud. She was holding out, she was enduing it, she was doing what she had to do. The cross was holding her captive and torturing her, the cross was completely mastering her, every moment, as she was writhing naked on the wood, she was being conquered and humiliated by the cross.
"This is exactly what I wanted," whispered Julia, "I knew it would be awful. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand it. And yet I am bearing it, because I have no choice.“ It was an incredible feeling, simply incredible.
She thought about how it will be when she’s found tomorrow morning. She’d have to dish up some story for the police. That she’d had been kidnapped outside the town and brought here and crucified in the gym. She couldn’t imagine telling the officers she’d volunteered, that she was just fulfilling greatest dream.
The pressure on her bladder was increasing, I have to go soon, she thought. She looked down at the cameras, they were filming diligently each of her movements on the cross. The masked men would edit the best scenes into a short film, that would be their reward for Julia's crucifixion, she’d even get a recording herself.
So, film me! she thought defiantly. She arched her back and swung floated like a figurehead in front of the cross, she pressing with all her strength. A powerful jet gushed out of her and splashed onto the floor, enlarging the lake under the cross. This time she felt no shame, she did defiantly, wild and free.
Yes, free, free as never before in her life. Although four strong nails were holding her on the cross, she felt an unimaginable freedom, she seemed to be floating, floating in an ocean of agony and pain, but floating. She was free, because she‘d given herself up to it voluntarily.
"I am free," said Julia loudly and clearly, "I am free!“
Last edited by a moderator:
malins
Stumbling Seeker
Oh yes.
Yes, the paradox of the cross. She has fought through the pain and shame and found freedom. She chose to be bound and helpless amd through this she has found the true freedom that comes from her free acceptance of the cross. Floating above her cares, given over to her powerful desires, and free to relieve herself openly and without embarrassement.
D
Deleted member 16639
Guest
And here we are dear fellows. The End of the little story:
A Dream comes True – chapter 8
(written by Sassi and translated by Eulalia)
"I am free," repeated Julia, "completely free." She truly was, free to do with it whatever she wanted: she could loll naked on the cross, she could squirm, she could hang quietly hanging, she could pee down from the cross defiantly, no-one could stop her. Even if hundreds of spectators were standing before the cross, that wouldn‘t stop her!
But, free as she was, she was still fully owned by the cross, the cross controlled her, it forced her to scream and cry and squirm in agony. Again she began to dance on the wood, the impossible Mr. Pain pain mastered her completely, her drove her on, again and again, so broken and exhausted though she was. She often longed to just hang exhausted for a few minutes, but as soon as she thought to do this, Mr. Pain pain drove her on once more.
Julia had always wondered what it would be like to be nailed to the cross. Would the gruesome pain compel her to squirm? Even against her will? Now she knew, yes! The pain compels her, whether she wants to or not, she has to submit. Julia squirmed.
But now she was an experienced crux-girl. She knew that after a period of wild dancing on the cross a period of rest would follow, in which she’d cease and give herself up to the wood, and she’d accept the terrible pain, mute and motionless. Such times of surrender appealed to her immensely
I can do it, she thought, I can really and truly accept it! I can keep on enduring it! Whoever else could say that? It's hard, but I knew it would be tough, that was precisely why I wanted to do it, I wanted to endure the pain.
Again she felt pride. And there was something else. At first she didn’t want to believe it, but there was a tingling between her legs. "I don‘t believe it!" she gasped, amazed - she was aroused! She felt she was wet, and it wasn’t her sweat or her pee...
She clenched her legs and flexed her abdominal muscles. Yes, there was more than just pain down there, there was animal heat, and lots of it! Arousal and pain were like two weights on a scale that were swinging incessantly up and down. For a while she felt really great on the cross, she could endure anything, she was so highly excited.
But eventually the pain won the upper hand again, the cross forced her to dance. She began writhing again on the cross. At this, she moaned. She could do no more. She was now too exhausted to cry, despite the cruel pain. She was dancing almost in silence on the cross, just moaning and whimpering softly to herself.
Any sense of time had left her long ago, she had no idea what time it was. It might be midnight or ten o'clock in the evening, it could just as well be three in the morning already. She had no idea. That in itself was a torture, not knowing how long she still had to endure.
She hung trembling on the cross, wishing she could faint, fainting would be a mercy, for a little while she wouldn’t feel any pain. But as much as she wished for it, she didn‘t faint, at best she felt a little dazed, like someone who not had enough sleep. She was gasping, sleep, sleep - impossible. It’s impossible to sleep on the cross .
What was it actually like in the days of the Romans for their poor victims on the cross? She‘d learnt in the computer library that well-trained soldiers survived up to four days on the cross, and if they gave them water to drink regularly, they held out even longer - five or six days without sleep! The idea was terrible.
Time passed slowly for Julia hanging on the cross. She was suffering unimaginable agony. It felt to her as if she’d been nailed there for many days a;ready. She had no more idea of seconds, minutes or hours, she was simply in a world of pain, there was no escape.
Sometimes she thought it would never end. Maybe the school was closed down and there‘d be no caretaker.
"I can‘t do anything except endure it," she said to herself. She looked around the empty gym. Nothing and no-one was there, she was all alone, alone with her pain. The dead eyes of the cameras gazed scornfully at her. They were blind . They were long dead, their memories were full. She was quite alone.
She was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything, her thoughts were muddled and confused. She was now hanging almost motionless on the cross, only rarely could the unimaginable torment drive her up and force her to writhe on the cross, and when she did, it didn’t last long, she had no strength now for prolonged twisting and turning.
She just hung still and surrendered to the cross. They didn’t make quick movements any more. What good were they? It always hurt, whether she was dancing or staying calm on the wood. She was becoming confused, sometimes she had trouble concentrating, then everything became blurred before her eyes, though there were no tears, she was hardly crying any more, she was just enduring it quietly and proudly.
But then her thoughts were as clear again as crystal, like the cold water of a mountain stream, and her gaze was sharp. She could see everything clearly. She glanced down. She saw herself reflected in the small lake on the polished wooden floor. She saw her broken body and her face. Fatigue was in this face.
Once she thought she glimpsed some movement with the corner of her eye, she wanted to raise her head, but she was so tired and exhausted she couldn‘t. She just had to hang quietly on the cross and bear it. Once again, her vision grew blurred. How much longer? Did it matter?
She was here. She was nailed to a cross, her cross. The cross was hers. It had been made just for her. My very own cross, she thought to herself. She looked down there in the mirror, smiling on the gym floor, " My cross," she whispered, "it belongs to me."
And I belong to him, she thought, I belong to the cross. She felt a sense of great peace and contentment, she was glad, she was happy. She was happy to have dared, happy to have endured it. She’d done it. She experienced it all!
" I believe it!" she said aloud. Her voice echoed around the gym. Had her screams echoed so strongly? She didn‘t know, she couldn‘t remember. She smiled again . All the pain, all that fighting against the cross, all had ultimately been in vain – she‘d lost the battle. She was hanging still and powerless on the cross, surrendered.
But I’ve done it, she thought, I dared, and I have experienced it, I‘m experiencing it still. I love the cross. Ever since I first saw one, I‘ve wanted it. Now I am crucified. The feeling was delightful. It was sublime.
With a soft sigh Julia straightened up. She could feel the nails turn in her wrists. Actually, her wrists turned around the nails. The nails were round. She looked down, they’d put the same kind of nails in her little feet, big, long, round ones. In the chatroom they’d discussed it. There were no square-sectioned nails to be found anywhere, they’d have to be forged by hand, and no-one knew how to do any this more.
She let her head drop, looked down at the nails in her bare feet. Good nails . Brave nails . You’re giving me support, you’re holding me onto the cross. You are my grip on the timber.
They’re good nails, holding me on the cross, linking me intimately with the wood, a more intimate connection there could not be!
Julia felt grateful for the nails holding her. She was so exhausted that she couldn’t possibly have held on unsupported, the nails were holding her, they were strong and faithful. She felt light and free, she was floating. "Yes," she said softly, " this is how I wanted it, exactly what I wanted."
Julia hung her head down on the cross, held by the nails. She thought she heard a noise a buzz. Was that a hovercar turbine? Or was she just imagining? She didn’t know, she couldn’t manage to concentrate on the sound. All she could do was stay quietly hanging on the cross and suffering, and indulging Mr. Pain to the full. Everything else was unimportant . They could they come or stay away, Julia didn’t care.
She thought she heard a door unlocking. Was it the door of the gym? Is someone coming?No way! No, Julia would remain forever on the cross. There was to be no salvation for her, she would would leave the cross, no way. Although she was undergoing excruciating torture, that thought was strangely comforting.
Then she noticed a movement from the right corner of her eye, something was coming towards her. She recognized a face down there behind the cameras on their tripods. But there were no longer any stands, nor any cameras, they were gone, sometime during the night some of the masked men had come and taken everything away, Julia had heard nothing of it.
Had she been hallucinating? Had the cameras been there at all? Or had she imagined the things? She‘d pleaded with that masked man to release her. He’d renewed the batteries in the cameras and re-set their memories with four more hours of recording time.
But there were no cameras there. They were gone. Disappeared. Did I faint? Was I fainting when the guys came and cleared all the equipment away? Or was I sleeping? Sleeping! On the cross! A nailed girl sleeping on the cross? Impossible! But the cameras were gone. Instead, down there was a man who was looking up wide-eyed at her.
"Oh my God!" cried the man. Julia saw he was standing in the middle of the small lake that had bubbled from her bladder. It seemed not to matter, he hadn’t even noticed.
She saw the man hurrying away with long strides. "Don‘t!" she wanted to say, "You don‘t need to run. What's the hurry? I‘ve plenty of time, I can wait here. Please don’t hurry for my sake. I can stand it, really, it’s no problem. Don’t rush, take your time, I’ll be happy to wait.“
She heard howling turbines. She heard sirens. Humans and mechanical robots were around her. The cross was lowered. When the cruel strain ceased in her arms, she moaned loudly. Only now, as she lay on her back, did she realise how great the pain had been.
I’ve borne it, she thought, I‘ve endured it. Twenty-four hours! Julia was happy, she felt ecstatic. Now it was over. They’ll take the cross away. She felt regret, but she was grateful too.
She spoke to the people who were swarming around her, thanking them fervently. She saw a mechanical robotic arm with a small needle at the front end approaching her. The needle sank into her upper arm, then a pleasant darkness spread through her and she drifted away.
*
Four weeks later, Julia was sitting at home with her screen. That morning it had come through, the film of her crucifixion!
She watched as the masked man piercing her delicate wrists with nails, hammering the long nails through her feet,. She saw her body writhing in agony, she heard her own screams and her desperate pleas. She saw herself dancing on the cross. She watched it all carefully. It was fascinating.
She found it very disappointing that, at the very end, there was no recording of the time when she became happy and gave herself up to the cross. A real shame, but you can’t have everything.
She thought of David X’s words in the chatroom, "Dear Julia, we all thank you for your wonderful performance, you were fantastic. If you want, you can experience it again any time. We‘re ready for you!
Her wounds had healed well, the AutoDoc unit had done a good job, no damage was left behind. After she‘d regained consciousness, she‘d given the police the story of being kidnapped and crucified by these masked men. She couldn‘t identify them. Of the cameras, she said nothing. It wasn‘t made public. The police kept it quiet, not wanting to encourage any copycats. The caretaker of the school signed a hush clause, the school didn‘t want a scandal. Hardly anyone knew what had happened to Julia, only the Magnificent Seven, and Julia.
The film finished, now she looked at all the many photos they’d made of her. She found them beautiful, incredibly beautiful - me, Julia, crucified! Truly nailed to a cross! Your greatest dream had come true .
The words of David X, “If you want, you can experience it again any time.“ She looked at a close-up of her bare feet. Fascinated, she gazed at the huge nails that had been driven into her feet. She touched a picture of her right hand, saw the nail sticking into her pierced joint.
A new photo, a long shot, a petite girl hanging naked on the cross. In the girl's eyes was pure agony. " If you want, you can experience it again any time." Julia smiled, "Yes," she said, "maybe I shall want to experience it again one day..."
It was terrible, but the memory had already transfigured it all, and Julia was glad to have experienced it. She‘d longed for years to be crucified, and now she‘d experienced it, on June 16, 2219, she’d been nailed to the cross. She‘d had to endure it, twenty-four hours on the cross. She had endured it. Julia was happy.
The End.
A Dream comes True – chapter 8
(written by Sassi and translated by Eulalia)
"I am free," repeated Julia, "completely free." She truly was, free to do with it whatever she wanted: she could loll naked on the cross, she could squirm, she could hang quietly hanging, she could pee down from the cross defiantly, no-one could stop her. Even if hundreds of spectators were standing before the cross, that wouldn‘t stop her!
But, free as she was, she was still fully owned by the cross, the cross controlled her, it forced her to scream and cry and squirm in agony. Again she began to dance on the wood, the impossible Mr. Pain pain mastered her completely, her drove her on, again and again, so broken and exhausted though she was. She often longed to just hang exhausted for a few minutes, but as soon as she thought to do this, Mr. Pain pain drove her on once more.
Julia had always wondered what it would be like to be nailed to the cross. Would the gruesome pain compel her to squirm? Even against her will? Now she knew, yes! The pain compels her, whether she wants to or not, she has to submit. Julia squirmed.
But now she was an experienced crux-girl. She knew that after a period of wild dancing on the cross a period of rest would follow, in which she’d cease and give herself up to the wood, and she’d accept the terrible pain, mute and motionless. Such times of surrender appealed to her immensely
I can do it, she thought, I can really and truly accept it! I can keep on enduring it! Whoever else could say that? It's hard, but I knew it would be tough, that was precisely why I wanted to do it, I wanted to endure the pain.
Again she felt pride. And there was something else. At first she didn’t want to believe it, but there was a tingling between her legs. "I don‘t believe it!" she gasped, amazed - she was aroused! She felt she was wet, and it wasn’t her sweat or her pee...
She clenched her legs and flexed her abdominal muscles. Yes, there was more than just pain down there, there was animal heat, and lots of it! Arousal and pain were like two weights on a scale that were swinging incessantly up and down. For a while she felt really great on the cross, she could endure anything, she was so highly excited.
But eventually the pain won the upper hand again, the cross forced her to dance. She began writhing again on the cross. At this, she moaned. She could do no more. She was now too exhausted to cry, despite the cruel pain. She was dancing almost in silence on the cross, just moaning and whimpering softly to herself.
Any sense of time had left her long ago, she had no idea what time it was. It might be midnight or ten o'clock in the evening, it could just as well be three in the morning already. She had no idea. That in itself was a torture, not knowing how long she still had to endure.
She hung trembling on the cross, wishing she could faint, fainting would be a mercy, for a little while she wouldn’t feel any pain. But as much as she wished for it, she didn‘t faint, at best she felt a little dazed, like someone who not had enough sleep. She was gasping, sleep, sleep - impossible. It’s impossible to sleep on the cross .
What was it actually like in the days of the Romans for their poor victims on the cross? She‘d learnt in the computer library that well-trained soldiers survived up to four days on the cross, and if they gave them water to drink regularly, they held out even longer - five or six days without sleep! The idea was terrible.
Time passed slowly for Julia hanging on the cross. She was suffering unimaginable agony. It felt to her as if she’d been nailed there for many days a;ready. She had no more idea of seconds, minutes or hours, she was simply in a world of pain, there was no escape.
Sometimes she thought it would never end. Maybe the school was closed down and there‘d be no caretaker.
"I can‘t do anything except endure it," she said to herself. She looked around the empty gym. Nothing and no-one was there, she was all alone, alone with her pain. The dead eyes of the cameras gazed scornfully at her. They were blind . They were long dead, their memories were full. She was quite alone.
She was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything, her thoughts were muddled and confused. She was now hanging almost motionless on the cross, only rarely could the unimaginable torment drive her up and force her to writhe on the cross, and when she did, it didn’t last long, she had no strength now for prolonged twisting and turning.
She just hung still and surrendered to the cross. They didn’t make quick movements any more. What good were they? It always hurt, whether she was dancing or staying calm on the wood. She was becoming confused, sometimes she had trouble concentrating, then everything became blurred before her eyes, though there were no tears, she was hardly crying any more, she was just enduring it quietly and proudly.
But then her thoughts were as clear again as crystal, like the cold water of a mountain stream, and her gaze was sharp. She could see everything clearly. She glanced down. She saw herself reflected in the small lake on the polished wooden floor. She saw her broken body and her face. Fatigue was in this face.
Once she thought she glimpsed some movement with the corner of her eye, she wanted to raise her head, but she was so tired and exhausted she couldn‘t. She just had to hang quietly on the cross and bear it. Once again, her vision grew blurred. How much longer? Did it matter?
She was here. She was nailed to a cross, her cross. The cross was hers. It had been made just for her. My very own cross, she thought to herself. She looked down there in the mirror, smiling on the gym floor, " My cross," she whispered, "it belongs to me."
And I belong to him, she thought, I belong to the cross. She felt a sense of great peace and contentment, she was glad, she was happy. She was happy to have dared, happy to have endured it. She’d done it. She experienced it all!
" I believe it!" she said aloud. Her voice echoed around the gym. Had her screams echoed so strongly? She didn‘t know, she couldn‘t remember. She smiled again . All the pain, all that fighting against the cross, all had ultimately been in vain – she‘d lost the battle. She was hanging still and powerless on the cross, surrendered.
But I’ve done it, she thought, I dared, and I have experienced it, I‘m experiencing it still. I love the cross. Ever since I first saw one, I‘ve wanted it. Now I am crucified. The feeling was delightful. It was sublime.
With a soft sigh Julia straightened up. She could feel the nails turn in her wrists. Actually, her wrists turned around the nails. The nails were round. She looked down, they’d put the same kind of nails in her little feet, big, long, round ones. In the chatroom they’d discussed it. There were no square-sectioned nails to be found anywhere, they’d have to be forged by hand, and no-one knew how to do any this more.
She let her head drop, looked down at the nails in her bare feet. Good nails . Brave nails . You’re giving me support, you’re holding me onto the cross. You are my grip on the timber.
They’re good nails, holding me on the cross, linking me intimately with the wood, a more intimate connection there could not be!
Julia felt grateful for the nails holding her. She was so exhausted that she couldn’t possibly have held on unsupported, the nails were holding her, they were strong and faithful. She felt light and free, she was floating. "Yes," she said softly, " this is how I wanted it, exactly what I wanted."
Julia hung her head down on the cross, held by the nails. She thought she heard a noise a buzz. Was that a hovercar turbine? Or was she just imagining? She didn’t know, she couldn’t manage to concentrate on the sound. All she could do was stay quietly hanging on the cross and suffering, and indulging Mr. Pain to the full. Everything else was unimportant . They could they come or stay away, Julia didn’t care.
She thought she heard a door unlocking. Was it the door of the gym? Is someone coming?No way! No, Julia would remain forever on the cross. There was to be no salvation for her, she would would leave the cross, no way. Although she was undergoing excruciating torture, that thought was strangely comforting.
Then she noticed a movement from the right corner of her eye, something was coming towards her. She recognized a face down there behind the cameras on their tripods. But there were no longer any stands, nor any cameras, they were gone, sometime during the night some of the masked men had come and taken everything away, Julia had heard nothing of it.
Had she been hallucinating? Had the cameras been there at all? Or had she imagined the things? She‘d pleaded with that masked man to release her. He’d renewed the batteries in the cameras and re-set their memories with four more hours of recording time.
But there were no cameras there. They were gone. Disappeared. Did I faint? Was I fainting when the guys came and cleared all the equipment away? Or was I sleeping? Sleeping! On the cross! A nailed girl sleeping on the cross? Impossible! But the cameras were gone. Instead, down there was a man who was looking up wide-eyed at her.
"Oh my God!" cried the man. Julia saw he was standing in the middle of the small lake that had bubbled from her bladder. It seemed not to matter, he hadn’t even noticed.
She saw the man hurrying away with long strides. "Don‘t!" she wanted to say, "You don‘t need to run. What's the hurry? I‘ve plenty of time, I can wait here. Please don’t hurry for my sake. I can stand it, really, it’s no problem. Don’t rush, take your time, I’ll be happy to wait.“
She heard howling turbines. She heard sirens. Humans and mechanical robots were around her. The cross was lowered. When the cruel strain ceased in her arms, she moaned loudly. Only now, as she lay on her back, did she realise how great the pain had been.
I’ve borne it, she thought, I‘ve endured it. Twenty-four hours! Julia was happy, she felt ecstatic. Now it was over. They’ll take the cross away. She felt regret, but she was grateful too.
She spoke to the people who were swarming around her, thanking them fervently. She saw a mechanical robotic arm with a small needle at the front end approaching her. The needle sank into her upper arm, then a pleasant darkness spread through her and she drifted away.
*
Four weeks later, Julia was sitting at home with her screen. That morning it had come through, the film of her crucifixion!
She watched as the masked man piercing her delicate wrists with nails, hammering the long nails through her feet,. She saw her body writhing in agony, she heard her own screams and her desperate pleas. She saw herself dancing on the cross. She watched it all carefully. It was fascinating.
She found it very disappointing that, at the very end, there was no recording of the time when she became happy and gave herself up to the cross. A real shame, but you can’t have everything.
She thought of David X’s words in the chatroom, "Dear Julia, we all thank you for your wonderful performance, you were fantastic. If you want, you can experience it again any time. We‘re ready for you!
Her wounds had healed well, the AutoDoc unit had done a good job, no damage was left behind. After she‘d regained consciousness, she‘d given the police the story of being kidnapped and crucified by these masked men. She couldn‘t identify them. Of the cameras, she said nothing. It wasn‘t made public. The police kept it quiet, not wanting to encourage any copycats. The caretaker of the school signed a hush clause, the school didn‘t want a scandal. Hardly anyone knew what had happened to Julia, only the Magnificent Seven, and Julia.
The film finished, now she looked at all the many photos they’d made of her. She found them beautiful, incredibly beautiful - me, Julia, crucified! Truly nailed to a cross! Your greatest dream had come true .
The words of David X, “If you want, you can experience it again any time.“ She looked at a close-up of her bare feet. Fascinated, she gazed at the huge nails that had been driven into her feet. She touched a picture of her right hand, saw the nail sticking into her pierced joint.
A new photo, a long shot, a petite girl hanging naked on the cross. In the girl's eyes was pure agony. " If you want, you can experience it again any time." Julia smiled, "Yes," she said, "maybe I shall want to experience it again one day..."
It was terrible, but the memory had already transfigured it all, and Julia was glad to have experienced it. She‘d longed for years to be crucified, and now she‘d experienced it, on June 16, 2219, she’d been nailed to the cross. She‘d had to endure it, twenty-four hours on the cross. She had endured it. Julia was happy.
The End.
joe stevens
Assistant executioner
A quite amazing story...no directly sexual activity...but very sensual and arousing..thank you...so much to consider and ponder...
Very well thought out and told Sassi. Thank you for sharing and to the slave-bard Eul for her translation work...