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Crucifixion of a Weather Girl
Frank Petrexa
Tribune
In case you need further iinspiration or encouragement.
CruxGirl
Magistrate
I'm doing my best! This heat is making me horny, but it's also very enervating
carloscruz
Tribune
Not only the heat, just thinking of you makes me horny @CruxGirl !
settantuno
MUTUS PICTOR
CruxGirl
Magistrate
O boy! You've made me so happy! Thank you so much @settantuno ! You capture the scene and the characters so perfectly! Knowing that my meandering little story has inspired such a beautifully intense work of art has literally moved me to tears ...
CruxGirl
Magistrate
When I came across @settantuno 's picture in the early hours of this morning I was pretty much stoned out of my skull on some cookies some friends had baked earlier in the evening -- hence the deliriously emotional response. Seeing it now, in the cold light of day, I admire it even more. I just love the Toulouse-Lautrec vibe that he brings to the scene. It's so atmospheric. And I still feel very deeply flattered
CruxGirl
Magistrate
Part 15
The two nailers are undressing, taking off their shirts and pants and dropping them. The hammers suspended from their belts hit the tiled floor with a thud. Sophie steps forward to pick up the discarded clothes, scourges and hammers. After neatly folding the shirts and pants, she places them on the nearest bed.
Desperately, Mercy wills back the memory of the night she spent making love with Ophelia in her apartment. She must never lose the power to recall and relive her richest, most life-affirming experience. The memory of that night has the power to sustain her through the barbarism and brutality that await her. It will keep her sane as she witnesses Ophelia and Destiny subjected to a cruel and degrading sexual assault.
She yearns to hold Ophelia in her arms again, to feel the warmth of her lips, to lose herself in the scent of her hair. She recalls how, after they’d kissed in the hallway of her apartment, she took Ophelia’s hand and led her into the bedroom. In an ecstasy of groping, kissing and fumbling, they had stripped each other. And the weather forecaster and the political correspondent had slid naked under the duvet together.
Mercy’s first orgasm of the night was harder and more powerful than anything she had ever experienced. Certainly, no man has ever worked her up to that degree of sensation.
The manner of Ophelia’s lovemaking reminded Mercy of the relentlessly precise and nuanced way in which she conducted her TV interviews. Even now, thinking of the similarity brings the ghost of a smile to Mercy’s lips. Now tender, gentle and teasing, now ruthlessly passionate, Ophelia seemed to know every trick there is to excite the most intense emotions in a girl.
As the ripples of ecstasy from that first orgasm had ebbed away Mercy rolled over and grabbed her phone from the bedside cabinet. Still nothing from Toby. Not so much as a text. She broke down again and sobbed her heart out, wetting Ophelia’s breasts with her tears.
“Forget him”, Ophelia said, easing the phone out of her hand. “That's what all men are like. Big narcissistic babies. I never want to feel a cock inside me again -- ever. Never, ever!” She spat the words out with extraordinary vehemence, looking deep into Mercy’s eyes. And then they both began to giggle. “We don’t need them, Mercy -- men, with their insecurities and their pathetic, ugly, needy, greedy cocks … I'll look after you. I promise I’ll get you through this. Trust me. Everything’s going to be okay, Mercy. Oakbeam is so fucking dead. And when it’s over you’ll be the heroine … a national treasure, the darling of England.”
She rolled on top of Mercy, clasping her tightly in her slender arms, licking the salty tears from her cheeks. Her tongue laced Mercy’s ear and moved wildly over her lips and throat as her hand tenderly sought her breasts, her fingers rubbing and pinching little shocks of fire into the nerve ends of her nipples, forcing her to ride the rim of a nipplegasm. It was a sensation Mercy had never known she was capable of experiencing.
Ophelia knelt over her, tracing her fingertips and tongue over her body, as Mercy lay back, moaning and gasping, with her thighs spread wide open enjoying her sexuality as if for the first time.
Working Mercy up to her second climax, Ophelia did not leave one inch of her flesh unkissed or uncaressed. When she saw that she was again on the edge of the sharp blade of ecstatic torture, she descended between her thighs with her soft wet mouth seeking her most sensitive parts, searching for the very center of her womanhood.
When she found it she teased Mercy for a deliciously long, long while, her circling tongue flicking rapidly like the fluttering wings of some exotic bird trying to fly for the first time over the rainbow to paradise.
The Sister strides up to the nailers with a pen and a printed form. “Before you begin, gentlemen”, her stentorian voice slashes into Mercy’s consciousness, harshing her mellow, jerking her back to reality, “I’ll need to discharge Miss Coxwell and Mrs Treadmill into your care. We’ve followed all the pre-crux protocols. The Doctor has examined their x-rays and marked up the exact entry-point for each nail … ”
Ophelia and Destiny, locked into their bondage devices, with their arms strapped to their crossbeams, begin to whimper pathetically. Mercy meets Ophelia's deep blue eyes. Paralyzed by terror, they do not register so much as a flicker of recognition.
“Yes,” the Doctor pipes up, “you'll need to hammer the nails into the exact spots. A single nail through crossed ankles ought to do the trick for Miss Coxwell. It should hold her weight up very nicely. And of course side-nailed ankles for Mrs Treadmill. She can ride her stipes like a pogo stick …” He breaks into a squeaky laugh.
“We won’t keep ‘em long in ‘ere”, says the blond man as he signs the form. “We’ll just fuck ‘em in all their ‘oles and then we’ll be gone --”
“Not before we've cummed all over their faces,” says the other man. “The public loves that. When cunts go out on their walk of shame with cum all over their faces. Cuz it gives the message, loud and clear, that they’re just worthless cum-sluts. And then no one needs to feel bad about 'aving a good time seeing 'em tortured to death.”
The Doctor lets out another squeaky laugh.
“Oh, one more thing …”, says the Sister, “Cassandra here, our psychotherapist, may wish to continue monitoring them, as a follow-up, while they're still in the hospital building … just to make sure they’re still emotionally responsive to the abuse you’re giving them …"
Cassandra nods along enthusiastically to the Sister's words. For the past few minutes, she has been perched on her favorite stool, ankles tightly crossed, swinging her legs up and down excitedly, rhythmically squeezing her thighs together in an unashamedly autoerotic action.
"Thank you, Sister!” she says. I shall be using a cognitive behavioral approach, in combination with mindfulness therapy. I shall be encouraging them to keep their minds fully focused on the pain and humiliation of the present moment. They need to be one hundred percent aware of what’s happening to them … And I shall be encouraging them to reevaluate any unhelpful ways of thinking.”
“And then, it's the end of the line, ladies!” The Sister gives Destiny a hard slap on the buttocks and tweaks Ophelia's nose. "No more emotional safetyism, no more being mollycoddled by kindly medical professionals. These gentlemen are professional torturers. It's their job to hurt and humiliate you, to punish you for your crimes … and there’ll be no one to intercede on your behalf."
There is a gleam of voyeuristic lust in Cassandra’s eyes as she stares, mouth agape at the musclebound physiques of the two nailers preparing to rape the two women. They are wearing nothing but black boots and black leather jockstraps. She leers at their hard cocks, poking upwards, protruding over their jockstraps.
The blond man has a big tattoo on his chest of a slender, long-haired girl nailed to a cross. The girl’s patibulum extends right across his pecs so that her wrists appear to be nailed to his nipples.
He grins at Cassandra.
“D’you like her?”
“Yes … She’s, erm, very beautiful”, says Cassandra breathily.
“She was the first girl I ever cruxed.”
“And you still carry her with you? Is – is it a guilt thing?”
“Guilt? Fuck no! Just seeing this sexy slut in my bathroom mirror every morning gives me an ‘ardon. It reminds me ‘ow she begged and pleaded for me not to ‘urt ‘er, and ‘ow greedily she sucked on my cock cuz she thought giving me good 'ead would earn ‘er some mercy from me! 'Ow wrong she was! Poor cunt!”
He laughs heartily.
“I see. How very touching.”
Seized by a sudden impulse, Cassandra leaps to her feet and approaches the Doctor.
“Doctor Painjoy – I – I’ve been thinking for a while now that – maybe it would be a good idea for me to – get naked while counseling the crux ladies? Th–there is – erm – a long-established, and highly respected school of thought within my profession, which argues that, under certain conditions, naked psychotherapy can be – extremely effective. I – I often feel that when the crux girls are naked …”, she smiles, in turn, at Mercy and Cordelia, “my own clothes are, like … a kind of barrier, separating me from them. You know? Wh–what I’m trying to say is that … having clothes on prevents me from being able to empathize c–completely with the girls?”
“Absolutely fine by me, Cassandra”, says the Doctor, with a benign smile. “I see your point entirely. I’m sure you’re extremely well-qualified to be a nude therapist. But it’s not really my call. I must defer to the Sister.”
“Oh, it’s fine by me too”, says the Sister. “Far be it from me to interfere in the mysteries of your profession, Cassandra. But, have a care that one of the crux teams doesn’t pick you up by mistake and march you out to be crucified by accident. That would be – very unfortunate.”
The two nailers are undressing, taking off their shirts and pants and dropping them. The hammers suspended from their belts hit the tiled floor with a thud. Sophie steps forward to pick up the discarded clothes, scourges and hammers. After neatly folding the shirts and pants, she places them on the nearest bed.
Desperately, Mercy wills back the memory of the night she spent making love with Ophelia in her apartment. She must never lose the power to recall and relive her richest, most life-affirming experience. The memory of that night has the power to sustain her through the barbarism and brutality that await her. It will keep her sane as she witnesses Ophelia and Destiny subjected to a cruel and degrading sexual assault.
She yearns to hold Ophelia in her arms again, to feel the warmth of her lips, to lose herself in the scent of her hair. She recalls how, after they’d kissed in the hallway of her apartment, she took Ophelia’s hand and led her into the bedroom. In an ecstasy of groping, kissing and fumbling, they had stripped each other. And the weather forecaster and the political correspondent had slid naked under the duvet together.
Mercy’s first orgasm of the night was harder and more powerful than anything she had ever experienced. Certainly, no man has ever worked her up to that degree of sensation.
The manner of Ophelia’s lovemaking reminded Mercy of the relentlessly precise and nuanced way in which she conducted her TV interviews. Even now, thinking of the similarity brings the ghost of a smile to Mercy’s lips. Now tender, gentle and teasing, now ruthlessly passionate, Ophelia seemed to know every trick there is to excite the most intense emotions in a girl.
As the ripples of ecstasy from that first orgasm had ebbed away Mercy rolled over and grabbed her phone from the bedside cabinet. Still nothing from Toby. Not so much as a text. She broke down again and sobbed her heart out, wetting Ophelia’s breasts with her tears.
“Forget him”, Ophelia said, easing the phone out of her hand. “That's what all men are like. Big narcissistic babies. I never want to feel a cock inside me again -- ever. Never, ever!” She spat the words out with extraordinary vehemence, looking deep into Mercy’s eyes. And then they both began to giggle. “We don’t need them, Mercy -- men, with their insecurities and their pathetic, ugly, needy, greedy cocks … I'll look after you. I promise I’ll get you through this. Trust me. Everything’s going to be okay, Mercy. Oakbeam is so fucking dead. And when it’s over you’ll be the heroine … a national treasure, the darling of England.”
She rolled on top of Mercy, clasping her tightly in her slender arms, licking the salty tears from her cheeks. Her tongue laced Mercy’s ear and moved wildly over her lips and throat as her hand tenderly sought her breasts, her fingers rubbing and pinching little shocks of fire into the nerve ends of her nipples, forcing her to ride the rim of a nipplegasm. It was a sensation Mercy had never known she was capable of experiencing.
Ophelia knelt over her, tracing her fingertips and tongue over her body, as Mercy lay back, moaning and gasping, with her thighs spread wide open enjoying her sexuality as if for the first time.
Working Mercy up to her second climax, Ophelia did not leave one inch of her flesh unkissed or uncaressed. When she saw that she was again on the edge of the sharp blade of ecstatic torture, she descended between her thighs with her soft wet mouth seeking her most sensitive parts, searching for the very center of her womanhood.
When she found it she teased Mercy for a deliciously long, long while, her circling tongue flicking rapidly like the fluttering wings of some exotic bird trying to fly for the first time over the rainbow to paradise.
The Sister strides up to the nailers with a pen and a printed form. “Before you begin, gentlemen”, her stentorian voice slashes into Mercy’s consciousness, harshing her mellow, jerking her back to reality, “I’ll need to discharge Miss Coxwell and Mrs Treadmill into your care. We’ve followed all the pre-crux protocols. The Doctor has examined their x-rays and marked up the exact entry-point for each nail … ”
Ophelia and Destiny, locked into their bondage devices, with their arms strapped to their crossbeams, begin to whimper pathetically. Mercy meets Ophelia's deep blue eyes. Paralyzed by terror, they do not register so much as a flicker of recognition.
“Yes,” the Doctor pipes up, “you'll need to hammer the nails into the exact spots. A single nail through crossed ankles ought to do the trick for Miss Coxwell. It should hold her weight up very nicely. And of course side-nailed ankles for Mrs Treadmill. She can ride her stipes like a pogo stick …” He breaks into a squeaky laugh.
“We won’t keep ‘em long in ‘ere”, says the blond man as he signs the form. “We’ll just fuck ‘em in all their ‘oles and then we’ll be gone --”
“Not before we've cummed all over their faces,” says the other man. “The public loves that. When cunts go out on their walk of shame with cum all over their faces. Cuz it gives the message, loud and clear, that they’re just worthless cum-sluts. And then no one needs to feel bad about 'aving a good time seeing 'em tortured to death.”
The Doctor lets out another squeaky laugh.
“Oh, one more thing …”, says the Sister, “Cassandra here, our psychotherapist, may wish to continue monitoring them, as a follow-up, while they're still in the hospital building … just to make sure they’re still emotionally responsive to the abuse you’re giving them …"
Cassandra nods along enthusiastically to the Sister's words. For the past few minutes, she has been perched on her favorite stool, ankles tightly crossed, swinging her legs up and down excitedly, rhythmically squeezing her thighs together in an unashamedly autoerotic action.
"Thank you, Sister!” she says. I shall be using a cognitive behavioral approach, in combination with mindfulness therapy. I shall be encouraging them to keep their minds fully focused on the pain and humiliation of the present moment. They need to be one hundred percent aware of what’s happening to them … And I shall be encouraging them to reevaluate any unhelpful ways of thinking.”
“And then, it's the end of the line, ladies!” The Sister gives Destiny a hard slap on the buttocks and tweaks Ophelia's nose. "No more emotional safetyism, no more being mollycoddled by kindly medical professionals. These gentlemen are professional torturers. It's their job to hurt and humiliate you, to punish you for your crimes … and there’ll be no one to intercede on your behalf."
There is a gleam of voyeuristic lust in Cassandra’s eyes as she stares, mouth agape at the musclebound physiques of the two nailers preparing to rape the two women. They are wearing nothing but black boots and black leather jockstraps. She leers at their hard cocks, poking upwards, protruding over their jockstraps.
The blond man has a big tattoo on his chest of a slender, long-haired girl nailed to a cross. The girl’s patibulum extends right across his pecs so that her wrists appear to be nailed to his nipples.
He grins at Cassandra.
“D’you like her?”
“Yes … She’s, erm, very beautiful”, says Cassandra breathily.
“She was the first girl I ever cruxed.”
“And you still carry her with you? Is – is it a guilt thing?”
“Guilt? Fuck no! Just seeing this sexy slut in my bathroom mirror every morning gives me an ‘ardon. It reminds me ‘ow she begged and pleaded for me not to ‘urt ‘er, and ‘ow greedily she sucked on my cock cuz she thought giving me good 'ead would earn ‘er some mercy from me! 'Ow wrong she was! Poor cunt!”
He laughs heartily.
“I see. How very touching.”
Seized by a sudden impulse, Cassandra leaps to her feet and approaches the Doctor.
“Doctor Painjoy – I – I’ve been thinking for a while now that – maybe it would be a good idea for me to – get naked while counseling the crux ladies? Th–there is – erm – a long-established, and highly respected school of thought within my profession, which argues that, under certain conditions, naked psychotherapy can be – extremely effective. I – I often feel that when the crux girls are naked …”, she smiles, in turn, at Mercy and Cordelia, “my own clothes are, like … a kind of barrier, separating me from them. You know? Wh–what I’m trying to say is that … having clothes on prevents me from being able to empathize c–completely with the girls?”
“Absolutely fine by me, Cassandra”, says the Doctor, with a benign smile. “I see your point entirely. I’m sure you’re extremely well-qualified to be a nude therapist. But it’s not really my call. I must defer to the Sister.”
“Oh, it’s fine by me too”, says the Sister. “Far be it from me to interfere in the mysteries of your profession, Cassandra. But, have a care that one of the crux teams doesn’t pick you up by mistake and march you out to be crucified by accident. That would be – very unfortunate.”
carloscruz
Tribune
carloscruz
Tribune
CruxGirl
Magistrate
Yes. I think she might be getting too frisky for her own good. I'll post the next part tomorrow
CruxGirl
Magistrate
Part 16
Cassandra has already taken off her pullover and with vague excited fingers she is busy unbuttoning her blouse.
She giggles nervously. “Oh I don’t think there’s any ch–chance of that happening, Sister,” she says breathlessly. “My husband is far too important.”
She unfastens her knee-length plaid skirt and steps out of it, and then unhooks her pink bra, letting it slide off her pale breasts. Her slim, well toned figure makes her C-cup breasts, with their large areola, appear full and round, like huge heavy teardrops. Mercy can see that her nipples are tight and hard.
The two nailers smirk as she trots over to face Ophelia, wearing nothing but a garter belt, pink lacy panties, stockings and spike-heeled booties.
“Fucking ‘ell! We’d be very ‘appy to fuck you and all, sweetheart, if it ‘elps you along with your empathy, like”, says the dark haired man.
“Yeah! I reckon you oughta get yer knickers off too”, says the blond man, “if you wanna empathize properly with the crux sluts, like. ‘Ow can you empathize if no one can see your cunt, and everybody can see your patients’ cunts?”
Cassandra gives the men a very hard cold stare.
“That’s just our two pennies’ worth of advice, sweetheart …” says the blond man, holding up his hands in mock terror.
Cassandra continues to stare, before saying: “Please bear in mind, officers, that you are in a hospital, and that sexually harrassing staff members is against the law. I am a professional woman, doing a very important job, not a sex object, to be verbally abused … I’ve a good mind to report you both for gross misconduct!”
She turns to the Sister with a pleading look. “Wouldn’t you agree, Sister?”.
The Sister smiles enigmatically for a few seconds before answering.
“On this occasion, Cassandra, I think we can cut our brave executioners some slack. Bear in mind that they haven’t had the benefits of your liberal, middle-class education. And we must never forget the sterling work they perform in protecting us from traitors and criminals.”
“Much obliged, ma’am!” says the blond man with a chuckle.
“Yeah, we was only offering some well-intentioned professional advice ,” says the other man.
“And, actually, Cassandra, I think the gentlemen might have a point. Having an exposed vulva is a mark of deep shame and humiliation. And if you want to experience exactly what your patients are feeling you should consider having your genitals on display. Not just your breasts.”
Cassandra’s eyes widen, she inhales sharply, pushing up her breasts. Coquettishly pulling down her lower lip with her pinkie, she says:
“H’m – yes. I think you’re right, Sister ...”
She sits on the bed, removes her booties and then peels off all her remaining lingerie, revealing a pair of lithe slim smooth-muscled legs and a glistening wet, smoothly shaved pussy..
“There.”
She stands up and tosses her chestnut ponytail. Then she links her fingers behind her neck and arches her back in a very sensual and erotic pose.
“Yes, that feels more like it. Now I’m ready! … Oh boy! … I feel so helpless and vulnerable!” She jiggles her breasts enticingly. “But it’s very exciting too! I -- I feel such a strong connection with you, ladies! Now I know exactly what it’s like to be condemned as a crux girl! And to be entirely at the mercy of these rough, brutish police officers, with their tacky tattoos and their vulgar sexist language. Being naked makes all the difference. Now I can actually do my job properly!”
Mercy gulps. Cassandra is now completely naked, unlike the two patients she is about to attend to, who, at least, are still wearing shoes, and panties, albeit pulled down around their knees. She stares at Cassandra's beautiful naked body, and despite her contempt for her, she experiences a strong wave of physical arousal, an intense throbbing in her pussy.
“Bravo, Cassandra!” says the Doctor. “Always looking for ways to improve your work performance! What a splendidly forward-thinking psychotherapist you are!”
“Okay, let’s get cracking with these two cunts,” says the blond nailer. ”We mustn’t get behind with the scourging and nailing, or the boss will give us a bollocking."
He slaps Ophelia's bottom, pulls down his jockstrap, and pushes his penis deep into her vagina making her cry out sharply. Mercy closes her eyes tight as Ophelia starts squealing rhythmically to his thrusting.
“Now then”, says Cassandra, walking around to face Ophelia, “I read in your notes that you're a bitter and twisted, man-hating lesbian. So … I doubt you're enjoying this experience very much, are you? D’you like having a nice stiff penis inside your vagina? Eh? Perhaps I’d better stand here so that you can see my lovely face and hot body?" She grabs hold of Ophelia's breasts and kneads her nipples. "I wonder whether having a dirty little fantasy about me would make the experience more palatable for you, eh? Maybe help you relax a bit?”
“No need”, says the blond nailer in between grunts. “This bitch -- is cured. She is -- a bean-flicker – and a man hater -- no more. The boys at the -- Justice Center -- did a cracking job on ‘er -- with their new -- conversion therapy course. – Two weeks -- of correctional gang rape -- combined with -- electro-torture, and -- Bob’s your uncle!"
His grunting gradually softens into a series of gasps and groans. “They totally -- fucked the dyke out of ‘er. -- And now she’s -- straight as a – fucking line of coke. But 'er cunt is still -- tight as a -- fucking latex glove … Oh fuck! ...”
“Aaah! – Aaah! – Urh! – Mmmh! – Mmmh!” says Ophelia in response to each balls-deep plunge of his penis.
And then a horrible truth dawns on Mercy.
With intense anguish she becomes aware that what she thought were protestations and cries of pain from Ophelia are actually squeals of pleasure. Now she recognizes them as the sounds that Ophelia makes during passionate sex.
Eventually, the squeals crystallize into words. "Yes -- yes! Please!” Ophelia gasps. “Fuck me! -- Sir! Oh yes! Thank you -- Sir! Your cock is – so big, Sir!"
"What -- did I tell you?" sighs the blond man. "An official-- little -- cockslut."
The other nailer thrusts his engorged member between the thick dark folds of Destiny’s sex. She groans and wails as he slams his body hard against the voluptuous curves of her black booty.
“Yeah”, he says. “They turned both these lovely ladies – who were formerly -- two stuck-up and very – high and mighty mainstream media employees – into expert and obedient cum-dumpsters. They give amazing head. -- In fact, taking cock was -- all they was ever thinking 'bout – when they was locked up. -- Couldn't get enough of it. Cuz it blocked out all thoughts of getting nailed up on a cross -- I s’ppose.”
“Yeah”, the blond man chimes in. “They ‘ad these two cunts – in a display cage together – before they was converted from their – unnaturally perverted – and lustful appetites. And the two of them – put on a fucking awesome cunt-eating – lesbo show. Writhing together like a couple o’ – slime eels in a bucket they was.”
So badly does Mercy ache for the feel and taste of Ophelia’s body that the image of Ophelia and Destiny making passionate love – albeit in a cage surrounded by laughing leering policemen – triggers a sharp pang of envy in her heart.
Destiny moans along as the man starts thrusting in earnest, each thrust making her pendulous breasts jerk and swing forwards.
Now Ophelia's squeals rise to a new pitch of intensity.
"May I – please – cum, Sir!?"
"No, you fucking – may not – cum! Crux whore!"
"I'm sorry, Sir! -- Uuuh!”
Her eyes mist over, and her whole body tenses up and starts jerking in a sequence of spasms.
Her voice leaps an octave as she screams out: “I’M A SLUT!!!"
“I FUCKING SAID, ‘NO’!!!”
Ophelia begins to weep .
“I’m sorry, Sir! Please forgive me!”, she wails. “Your cock … I couldn’t – stop – myself! – I’m just a greedy – little slut!”
The blond man withdraws from her vagina.
"YOU JUST CAN’T FUCKING CONTROL YOURSELF, CAN YOU? FUCKING FILTHY LITTLE CUNT!” He turns to Sophie. "Fetch me my scourge, sweetheart?"
As Sophie hands him the dreadful instrument, Cassandra scampers over on bare feet, breasts swaying, to gloat.
First, the man tickles Ophelia’s buttocks and labia with the loose leather strands. Then he swings it back and the thongs hiss through the air and rake Ophelia's smooth plump flesh.
Beaming with satisfaction, Cassandra immediately skips back to peer into Ophelia’s face.
Ophelia’s deep blue eyes seem to double in size. Her scream fills the entire ward, expelling all the air from her body. Then she slumps in her bondage with trembling lips and quivering thighs, panting tearfully.
Now the man pushes his organ into her anus. She closes her eyes and groans, and then settles into a series of guttural moans.
When she opens her eyes, her gaze again briefly meets Mercy's. Yet still Ophelia’s eyes show not even the tiniest spark of acknowledgement of any bond between them.
The Sister – her curiosity piqued – walks over to stand next to Cassandra and stare into Ophelia’s eyes.
“Did that hurt, my lovely? That was just a foretaste of what you’ll experience during your public scourging. But, overall, I think you’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you? They trained you well at the Justice Center.”
“Yes, Madame Sister. I’m a dirty little slut who needs to be punished,” she says in a pathetic frightened little voice.
“What did they call you at the Center, sweetheart?”
“My name is Three Holes, Madame Sister.”
“What a splendid name. And what function do you serve, Three Holes?”
“I pleasure men’s cocks. I'm nothing but a dirty little cum bucket, if you’ll pardon my language, Madame Sister.”
"And do you enjoy having cocks inside you, Three Holes?"
"Yes, oh yes, Madame Sister! I’m really really good at sucking. Please, Madame Sister, I don’t want to be taken outside. I don't want to be crucified by these men, Madame Sister! Please please save me!"
The medical staff, gathered around watching the scene, murmur appreciatively, breaking into condescending, tender-hearted laughter.
"Aww! ... Oh, Bless!” says Sophie with feeling. “That’s probably what I’d be saying if I was her!”
“Extraordinary!” says Cassandra. “I never knew conversion therapy could be so effective! They’ve completely changed this woman’s sexual orientation.”
The tears are streaming down Mercy’s cheeks. She feels something die within her. She closes her eyes tightly and wishes she could bring her hands to her ears to block them – to block out the entire universe.
She throws back her head to face the ceiling, and opens her mouth wide in a silent scream. A scream worthy of Edvard Munch, or even of Picasso’s Guernica.
Emma, who has been paying less attention than the others to the unfolding rape scene, walks over to examine Cordelia on the bed next to Mercy.
“You’re obviously enjoying the scene”, she says groping Cordelia’s sex and pushing in three fingers.
Cordelia gasps and moans, holding Emma’s dark-eyed gaze.
“These guys are amateurs”, says Emma contemptuously. “You two”, she nods at Mercy, “are so lucky, getting the A-list Crux Team. Wait till you get their cocks inside you. My boyfriend Spike’s cock is twice as long and twice as thick as those two wimps. And he’s such a handsome hunk!”
Cordelia purses her lips. “And so how is it for you, watching your boyfriend regularly having sex with random women?” she asks.
“It makes me feel very proud. And then two hours later I get to watch those same women dying in agony … and when we both get home in the evening, after a hard day’s work – well, Spike and me – we just fuck like there’s no tomorrow – while cunts like you just hang on your crosses all night, getting fucked by your cornus …”
She sniggers, throws back her shoulders and flounces to the neighboring bed to play with Mercy’s pussy.
“Wow! You two sluts are getting really excited watching this pathetic little scene. This might be a good time to give you your orgasms. As soon as the sideshow’s finished and those two cunts over there are out walking the streets, we’ll be calibrating your cornus. But we won’t be able to push those beauties deep enough inside you unless you’re in a state of post-orgasmic bliss – with super-wet cunts, yawning wide-open to the world.”
She calls Sophie over. “As soon as the blowjobs on those two muppets start I want you to bring Cordelia to orgasm. Shouldn’t take long. That lesbo cunt of hers is already soaked. I’ll do this other slut.”
Sophie nods enthusiastically, takes a vibrator out of her skirt pocket, and walks towards Cordelia with a smile.
Mercy does her best to restrain herself, to show no reaction, as Emma’s finger begins to circle her slick clit.
Inside her head, however, she is all in turmoil. Her hormones and emotions are in meltdown. What she has witnessed makes no sense. She thought she knew Ophelia, knew her as a mentally strong character, with huge resourcefulness. How could they have broken her so easily and so completely?
Mercy cannot rationalize her own feelings – a riot of jealousy and sexual frustration, of hatred towards Ophelia for being so weak, for betraying her sex, and a deep deep pity and compassion for her, mixed with a painful lustful hankering for her body, a desperate desire to hold her in her arms one last time.
And in the midst of the maelstrom this bewitchingly beautiful African-Caribbean nurse, a girl who has shown her nothing but cruelty and contempt – and who looks forward to seeing her raped, whipped and nailed up on a cross by her own fiancé – has announced that, over the next few minutes, she will be inducing an orgasm in her. Mercy can scarcely contain her excitement. She grabs hold of the idea and clings to it as if it is a life buoy.
Emma will devote her precious time to pleasuring her until she climaxes. She will give Mercy an orgasm and release her from her frustration.
Mercy weeps silently, overwhelmed by profound and irrational feelings of gratitude to Emma.
As Emma continues to work on her pussy with her fingers, Mercy’s soul expands within her and retreats to a place far away from the terror and the torments that surround her. Emma is clearly well-practiced at sexually arousing her patients, and her fingers send waves of pleasure rippling through her body.
“Does that feel good?” asks Emma, and there is a new kindness and a gentleness in her voice.
“Yes, thank you, Nurse Emma.” Mercy is overwhelmed by love for Emma. She cannot explain the feeling in any other way. A girl who views her as having no more value than an insect is giving her intense pleasure. Pure pleasure is a rare experience in her present predicament. And when it comes she must savor it and treasure it.
Many things will be done to her before they nail her to her crux. She will be triple-penetrated by Spike and his colleagues. And now she looks forward to that. Sex was always her antidote to the difficulties in her life. They will fuck her senseless. Fuck her until she is nothing but an object and all her cares have evaporated ...
Cordelia, a few feet away, begins to moan as Sophie applies the vibrator to her clit.
Emma looks over her shoulder at the Sister.
The Sister and Cassandra are both preoccupied, undoing the restraints which keep Ophelia and Destiny bent over their raping devices.
Emma takes her fingers out of Mercy’s vagina and sucks on them.
“You taste amazing”, she says. “Spike will want to eat your pussy.”
Mercy smiles at her.
Emma glances once more behind her. Then she bends down and kisses Mercy hard on the lips. Her lips are full and firm. They taste of cherry lipstick and of Mercy's own juices.
Mercy is taken completely by surprise by this act of generosity. The kiss leaves her breathless, gasping for more. But Emma casually returns to stimulating her engorged clit as if she has done nothing out of the ordinary.
Holding up the weight of their crossbeams, the Sister and Cassandra bring Ophelia and Destiny to their feet and walk them over to where the two nailers are standing.
Standing side-by-side, Ophelia and Destiny glance at each other for a fraction of a second. The exchange lasts long enough for Mercy to discern meaning in it. And it sends another stab of jealousy, like a red hot dagger into her heart.
But why should she care about Ophelia anymore? Ophelia will soon be nailed up on the city square. And Mercy will be handed over to the A-list crux team and they will fuck her and hurt her as they please. And just like Ophelia, Mercy will squeal like a slut and beg them to fuck her harder.
Suddenly, everything looks so simple and straightforward.
Mercy smiles as she watches Cassandra and the Sister force Ophelia and Destiny down onto their knees in front of the two men.
Eagerly the condemned women lean forward making full eye contact with their soon-to-be executioners. And slowly their tongues begin to lick and circle the tips of their rampant organs.
Mercy gasps, doing her best to hold herself back, as her orgasm begins to gather.
Cassandra has already taken off her pullover and with vague excited fingers she is busy unbuttoning her blouse.
She giggles nervously. “Oh I don’t think there’s any ch–chance of that happening, Sister,” she says breathlessly. “My husband is far too important.”
She unfastens her knee-length plaid skirt and steps out of it, and then unhooks her pink bra, letting it slide off her pale breasts. Her slim, well toned figure makes her C-cup breasts, with their large areola, appear full and round, like huge heavy teardrops. Mercy can see that her nipples are tight and hard.
The two nailers smirk as she trots over to face Ophelia, wearing nothing but a garter belt, pink lacy panties, stockings and spike-heeled booties.
“Fucking ‘ell! We’d be very ‘appy to fuck you and all, sweetheart, if it ‘elps you along with your empathy, like”, says the dark haired man.
“Yeah! I reckon you oughta get yer knickers off too”, says the blond man, “if you wanna empathize properly with the crux sluts, like. ‘Ow can you empathize if no one can see your cunt, and everybody can see your patients’ cunts?”
Cassandra gives the men a very hard cold stare.
“That’s just our two pennies’ worth of advice, sweetheart …” says the blond man, holding up his hands in mock terror.
Cassandra continues to stare, before saying: “Please bear in mind, officers, that you are in a hospital, and that sexually harrassing staff members is against the law. I am a professional woman, doing a very important job, not a sex object, to be verbally abused … I’ve a good mind to report you both for gross misconduct!”
She turns to the Sister with a pleading look. “Wouldn’t you agree, Sister?”.
The Sister smiles enigmatically for a few seconds before answering.
“On this occasion, Cassandra, I think we can cut our brave executioners some slack. Bear in mind that they haven’t had the benefits of your liberal, middle-class education. And we must never forget the sterling work they perform in protecting us from traitors and criminals.”
“Much obliged, ma’am!” says the blond man with a chuckle.
“Yeah, we was only offering some well-intentioned professional advice ,” says the other man.
“And, actually, Cassandra, I think the gentlemen might have a point. Having an exposed vulva is a mark of deep shame and humiliation. And if you want to experience exactly what your patients are feeling you should consider having your genitals on display. Not just your breasts.”
Cassandra’s eyes widen, she inhales sharply, pushing up her breasts. Coquettishly pulling down her lower lip with her pinkie, she says:
“H’m – yes. I think you’re right, Sister ...”
She sits on the bed, removes her booties and then peels off all her remaining lingerie, revealing a pair of lithe slim smooth-muscled legs and a glistening wet, smoothly shaved pussy..
“There.”
She stands up and tosses her chestnut ponytail. Then she links her fingers behind her neck and arches her back in a very sensual and erotic pose.
“Yes, that feels more like it. Now I’m ready! … Oh boy! … I feel so helpless and vulnerable!” She jiggles her breasts enticingly. “But it’s very exciting too! I -- I feel such a strong connection with you, ladies! Now I know exactly what it’s like to be condemned as a crux girl! And to be entirely at the mercy of these rough, brutish police officers, with their tacky tattoos and their vulgar sexist language. Being naked makes all the difference. Now I can actually do my job properly!”
Mercy gulps. Cassandra is now completely naked, unlike the two patients she is about to attend to, who, at least, are still wearing shoes, and panties, albeit pulled down around their knees. She stares at Cassandra's beautiful naked body, and despite her contempt for her, she experiences a strong wave of physical arousal, an intense throbbing in her pussy.
“Bravo, Cassandra!” says the Doctor. “Always looking for ways to improve your work performance! What a splendidly forward-thinking psychotherapist you are!”
“Okay, let’s get cracking with these two cunts,” says the blond nailer. ”We mustn’t get behind with the scourging and nailing, or the boss will give us a bollocking."
He slaps Ophelia's bottom, pulls down his jockstrap, and pushes his penis deep into her vagina making her cry out sharply. Mercy closes her eyes tight as Ophelia starts squealing rhythmically to his thrusting.
“Now then”, says Cassandra, walking around to face Ophelia, “I read in your notes that you're a bitter and twisted, man-hating lesbian. So … I doubt you're enjoying this experience very much, are you? D’you like having a nice stiff penis inside your vagina? Eh? Perhaps I’d better stand here so that you can see my lovely face and hot body?" She grabs hold of Ophelia's breasts and kneads her nipples. "I wonder whether having a dirty little fantasy about me would make the experience more palatable for you, eh? Maybe help you relax a bit?”
“No need”, says the blond nailer in between grunts. “This bitch -- is cured. She is -- a bean-flicker – and a man hater -- no more. The boys at the -- Justice Center -- did a cracking job on ‘er -- with their new -- conversion therapy course. – Two weeks -- of correctional gang rape -- combined with -- electro-torture, and -- Bob’s your uncle!"
His grunting gradually softens into a series of gasps and groans. “They totally -- fucked the dyke out of ‘er. -- And now she’s -- straight as a – fucking line of coke. But 'er cunt is still -- tight as a -- fucking latex glove … Oh fuck! ...”
“Aaah! – Aaah! – Urh! – Mmmh! – Mmmh!” says Ophelia in response to each balls-deep plunge of his penis.
And then a horrible truth dawns on Mercy.
With intense anguish she becomes aware that what she thought were protestations and cries of pain from Ophelia are actually squeals of pleasure. Now she recognizes them as the sounds that Ophelia makes during passionate sex.
Eventually, the squeals crystallize into words. "Yes -- yes! Please!” Ophelia gasps. “Fuck me! -- Sir! Oh yes! Thank you -- Sir! Your cock is – so big, Sir!"
"What -- did I tell you?" sighs the blond man. "An official-- little -- cockslut."
The other nailer thrusts his engorged member between the thick dark folds of Destiny’s sex. She groans and wails as he slams his body hard against the voluptuous curves of her black booty.
“Yeah”, he says. “They turned both these lovely ladies – who were formerly -- two stuck-up and very – high and mighty mainstream media employees – into expert and obedient cum-dumpsters. They give amazing head. -- In fact, taking cock was -- all they was ever thinking 'bout – when they was locked up. -- Couldn't get enough of it. Cuz it blocked out all thoughts of getting nailed up on a cross -- I s’ppose.”
“Yeah”, the blond man chimes in. “They ‘ad these two cunts – in a display cage together – before they was converted from their – unnaturally perverted – and lustful appetites. And the two of them – put on a fucking awesome cunt-eating – lesbo show. Writhing together like a couple o’ – slime eels in a bucket they was.”
So badly does Mercy ache for the feel and taste of Ophelia’s body that the image of Ophelia and Destiny making passionate love – albeit in a cage surrounded by laughing leering policemen – triggers a sharp pang of envy in her heart.
Destiny moans along as the man starts thrusting in earnest, each thrust making her pendulous breasts jerk and swing forwards.
Now Ophelia's squeals rise to a new pitch of intensity.
"May I – please – cum, Sir!?"
"No, you fucking – may not – cum! Crux whore!"
"I'm sorry, Sir! -- Uuuh!”
Her eyes mist over, and her whole body tenses up and starts jerking in a sequence of spasms.
Her voice leaps an octave as she screams out: “I’M A SLUT!!!"
“I FUCKING SAID, ‘NO’!!!”
Ophelia begins to weep .
“I’m sorry, Sir! Please forgive me!”, she wails. “Your cock … I couldn’t – stop – myself! – I’m just a greedy – little slut!”
The blond man withdraws from her vagina.
"YOU JUST CAN’T FUCKING CONTROL YOURSELF, CAN YOU? FUCKING FILTHY LITTLE CUNT!” He turns to Sophie. "Fetch me my scourge, sweetheart?"
As Sophie hands him the dreadful instrument, Cassandra scampers over on bare feet, breasts swaying, to gloat.
First, the man tickles Ophelia’s buttocks and labia with the loose leather strands. Then he swings it back and the thongs hiss through the air and rake Ophelia's smooth plump flesh.
Beaming with satisfaction, Cassandra immediately skips back to peer into Ophelia’s face.
Ophelia’s deep blue eyes seem to double in size. Her scream fills the entire ward, expelling all the air from her body. Then she slumps in her bondage with trembling lips and quivering thighs, panting tearfully.
Now the man pushes his organ into her anus. She closes her eyes and groans, and then settles into a series of guttural moans.
When she opens her eyes, her gaze again briefly meets Mercy's. Yet still Ophelia’s eyes show not even the tiniest spark of acknowledgement of any bond between them.
The Sister – her curiosity piqued – walks over to stand next to Cassandra and stare into Ophelia’s eyes.
“Did that hurt, my lovely? That was just a foretaste of what you’ll experience during your public scourging. But, overall, I think you’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you? They trained you well at the Justice Center.”
“Yes, Madame Sister. I’m a dirty little slut who needs to be punished,” she says in a pathetic frightened little voice.
“What did they call you at the Center, sweetheart?”
“My name is Three Holes, Madame Sister.”
“What a splendid name. And what function do you serve, Three Holes?”
“I pleasure men’s cocks. I'm nothing but a dirty little cum bucket, if you’ll pardon my language, Madame Sister.”
"And do you enjoy having cocks inside you, Three Holes?"
"Yes, oh yes, Madame Sister! I’m really really good at sucking. Please, Madame Sister, I don’t want to be taken outside. I don't want to be crucified by these men, Madame Sister! Please please save me!"
The medical staff, gathered around watching the scene, murmur appreciatively, breaking into condescending, tender-hearted laughter.
"Aww! ... Oh, Bless!” says Sophie with feeling. “That’s probably what I’d be saying if I was her!”
“Extraordinary!” says Cassandra. “I never knew conversion therapy could be so effective! They’ve completely changed this woman’s sexual orientation.”
The tears are streaming down Mercy’s cheeks. She feels something die within her. She closes her eyes tightly and wishes she could bring her hands to her ears to block them – to block out the entire universe.
She throws back her head to face the ceiling, and opens her mouth wide in a silent scream. A scream worthy of Edvard Munch, or even of Picasso’s Guernica.
Emma, who has been paying less attention than the others to the unfolding rape scene, walks over to examine Cordelia on the bed next to Mercy.
“You’re obviously enjoying the scene”, she says groping Cordelia’s sex and pushing in three fingers.
Cordelia gasps and moans, holding Emma’s dark-eyed gaze.
“These guys are amateurs”, says Emma contemptuously. “You two”, she nods at Mercy, “are so lucky, getting the A-list Crux Team. Wait till you get their cocks inside you. My boyfriend Spike’s cock is twice as long and twice as thick as those two wimps. And he’s such a handsome hunk!”
Cordelia purses her lips. “And so how is it for you, watching your boyfriend regularly having sex with random women?” she asks.
“It makes me feel very proud. And then two hours later I get to watch those same women dying in agony … and when we both get home in the evening, after a hard day’s work – well, Spike and me – we just fuck like there’s no tomorrow – while cunts like you just hang on your crosses all night, getting fucked by your cornus …”
She sniggers, throws back her shoulders and flounces to the neighboring bed to play with Mercy’s pussy.
“Wow! You two sluts are getting really excited watching this pathetic little scene. This might be a good time to give you your orgasms. As soon as the sideshow’s finished and those two cunts over there are out walking the streets, we’ll be calibrating your cornus. But we won’t be able to push those beauties deep enough inside you unless you’re in a state of post-orgasmic bliss – with super-wet cunts, yawning wide-open to the world.”
She calls Sophie over. “As soon as the blowjobs on those two muppets start I want you to bring Cordelia to orgasm. Shouldn’t take long. That lesbo cunt of hers is already soaked. I’ll do this other slut.”
Sophie nods enthusiastically, takes a vibrator out of her skirt pocket, and walks towards Cordelia with a smile.
Mercy does her best to restrain herself, to show no reaction, as Emma’s finger begins to circle her slick clit.
Inside her head, however, she is all in turmoil. Her hormones and emotions are in meltdown. What she has witnessed makes no sense. She thought she knew Ophelia, knew her as a mentally strong character, with huge resourcefulness. How could they have broken her so easily and so completely?
Mercy cannot rationalize her own feelings – a riot of jealousy and sexual frustration, of hatred towards Ophelia for being so weak, for betraying her sex, and a deep deep pity and compassion for her, mixed with a painful lustful hankering for her body, a desperate desire to hold her in her arms one last time.
And in the midst of the maelstrom this bewitchingly beautiful African-Caribbean nurse, a girl who has shown her nothing but cruelty and contempt – and who looks forward to seeing her raped, whipped and nailed up on a cross by her own fiancé – has announced that, over the next few minutes, she will be inducing an orgasm in her. Mercy can scarcely contain her excitement. She grabs hold of the idea and clings to it as if it is a life buoy.
Emma will devote her precious time to pleasuring her until she climaxes. She will give Mercy an orgasm and release her from her frustration.
Mercy weeps silently, overwhelmed by profound and irrational feelings of gratitude to Emma.
As Emma continues to work on her pussy with her fingers, Mercy’s soul expands within her and retreats to a place far away from the terror and the torments that surround her. Emma is clearly well-practiced at sexually arousing her patients, and her fingers send waves of pleasure rippling through her body.
“Does that feel good?” asks Emma, and there is a new kindness and a gentleness in her voice.
“Yes, thank you, Nurse Emma.” Mercy is overwhelmed by love for Emma. She cannot explain the feeling in any other way. A girl who views her as having no more value than an insect is giving her intense pleasure. Pure pleasure is a rare experience in her present predicament. And when it comes she must savor it and treasure it.
Many things will be done to her before they nail her to her crux. She will be triple-penetrated by Spike and his colleagues. And now she looks forward to that. Sex was always her antidote to the difficulties in her life. They will fuck her senseless. Fuck her until she is nothing but an object and all her cares have evaporated ...
Cordelia, a few feet away, begins to moan as Sophie applies the vibrator to her clit.
Emma looks over her shoulder at the Sister.
The Sister and Cassandra are both preoccupied, undoing the restraints which keep Ophelia and Destiny bent over their raping devices.
Emma takes her fingers out of Mercy’s vagina and sucks on them.
“You taste amazing”, she says. “Spike will want to eat your pussy.”
Mercy smiles at her.
Emma glances once more behind her. Then she bends down and kisses Mercy hard on the lips. Her lips are full and firm. They taste of cherry lipstick and of Mercy's own juices.
Mercy is taken completely by surprise by this act of generosity. The kiss leaves her breathless, gasping for more. But Emma casually returns to stimulating her engorged clit as if she has done nothing out of the ordinary.
Holding up the weight of their crossbeams, the Sister and Cassandra bring Ophelia and Destiny to their feet and walk them over to where the two nailers are standing.
Standing side-by-side, Ophelia and Destiny glance at each other for a fraction of a second. The exchange lasts long enough for Mercy to discern meaning in it. And it sends another stab of jealousy, like a red hot dagger into her heart.
But why should she care about Ophelia anymore? Ophelia will soon be nailed up on the city square. And Mercy will be handed over to the A-list crux team and they will fuck her and hurt her as they please. And just like Ophelia, Mercy will squeal like a slut and beg them to fuck her harder.
Suddenly, everything looks so simple and straightforward.
Mercy smiles as she watches Cassandra and the Sister force Ophelia and Destiny down onto their knees in front of the two men.
Eagerly the condemned women lean forward making full eye contact with their soon-to-be executioners. And slowly their tongues begin to lick and circle the tips of their rampant organs.
Mercy gasps, doing her best to hold herself back, as her orgasm begins to gather.
bodnardavid1026
Spectator
Amazing Story
Blue
Magistrate
This is so subtle, yet so effective as the scene plays out.
I have a feeling Mercy will soon find out!
Mercy is now residing somewhere between the “Stockholm Syndrome” and Winston Smith at the end of 1984. She’s so broken, will she be grateful when the nails go in?
A great continuation of the story and looking forward to more!
carloscruz
Tribune
CruxGirl
Magistrate
Thank you @carloscruz! I'm on vacation in a very warm climate. And it's turning my head into a fermenting swamp of twisted sexual images.
