I was suffering a lot and yet I was still excited. While I was fidgeting and dancing, I clenched my thighs and aroused myself. Anja was standing directly in front of the cross looking up at me. I love you, love you Anja, pale, shy little Anja. Do you know I had a little crush on you all those years? That I was imagining the wildest things for you? Goddess, if I’d known what you were feeling about me! When we’re back home, can we share it? I can call, or come to the stables. You work there every other weekend to earn some pocket money, because your parents are tight with their money. I'll meet you there, Anja.
My excitement grew. I saw myself doing stuff with Anja - beautiful things, wild things. I saw Anja naked and handcuffed in front of me. I saw Anja with a whip in her hand, while I was suspended by my wrists, I saw her swinging the whip. I saw Anja dancing under the whip. I saw Anja and me together on the cross.
Then the scene changed. Dorothea was kneeling in the workshop in front of me. Now I had a real recollection, something that had really happened. "Punish me, Lisette!" was Doro’s humble plea, "Punish me!" She’d had to lie between the horizontal bars on her back, I’d tied her hands above her head and spread her legs as far as they could go, I’d pulled the ropes to fix her tight. Then I’d taken the leather strap with a wooden handle. I hadn’t given her any gag, I wanted to hear her screaming. I’d hit her between the legs. O Goddess! The clap of the leather on her bare skin! Only to remember thesound of excited me even more, I squirmed with all my might on the cross. Beating her between the legs, slowly and only slightly. Then firmer, harder, Doro’s first cry - surprised, almost angry, somehow defiant. Cry all you like, cousin! I’d hit her solidly, much sharper, until she started to scream, to howl properly. She’d complained of intense pain and squirmed desperately in her bonds, I’d let her suffer, I’d given her more pain. She’d reared up and cummed with a scream. And now I felt that last one down there, I cummed again on the cross. It was commented upon out loud. The harpies looked grim, they begrudged me my orgasm.
There were now a lot of people down there, almost all of them had gathered around to witness as I collapsed. The pain was really bad, I was groaning, gasping, breathing irregularly. As always, I was longing to lose the fight – in front of all these people. They were talking shamelessly about my appearance, about my pelvis, my ass, my breasts.
"She’s got pretty little tits, just right." "Beautiful pink nipples." "They are." "That comes from pain." "Come’s the right word, but that wasn’t pain, that just happened." "Yes, it was pain, it’s horny pain, that's why she cummed."
"Wonderful slender legs, like a filly." "Pretty feet, small and slim, like a real princess." "I bet they like to walk barefoot."
In particular, some of the women were looking very intensely and commented without inhibitions on my body, they seemed to have some hidden lesbian tendencies. Others, such as the slightly older ones, were just sadistic and enjoyed looking at my torment.
I could not escape their gaze. The cross offered me freely, exposed and naked. I felt pain and anguish. I felt infinite shame. I felt joy and pride and I felt new excitement. It was a crazy cocktail of feelings. I was incredibly lucky to have promised in the morning to allow them to crucify me. I was suffering for all these people, I suffering before their eyes, it excited me beyond measure. I danced on wood. I gave everything. My hearing was sharpened unnaturally, I kept catching odd sentences.
"Unbelievable! Look at her! She doesn’t cry! She suffering like a bitch, you can see it, but still she doesn’t howl."
"She's been more than four hours on the cross!" Aha! I noted that, more than four hours. Thank you my lady.
"Man! Is this class?! What a sight! Gorgeous!" "She’s so nice I could fall in love with her. See how she’s sweating!" "She’s giving everything, she’s suffering unimaginable pain." "Isn’t she just! How beautiful!"
I was a little quieter. I realized how time was passing, soon I’d lose the battle and collapse. Soon. I was only being granted a little bit of rest before it really started.
"Water," I asked in a shaky voice. "Please, I'm thirsty."
Someone pushed a small step-ladder in front of the cross. The Japanese woman climbed up to me and let me drink from a glass of water.
"Thank you," I breathed.
"Booootiful girl!" she said and smiled at me. Then she got back down to the floor and I was alone with the cross and the pain.
My excitement grew. I saw myself doing stuff with Anja - beautiful things, wild things. I saw Anja naked and handcuffed in front of me. I saw Anja with a whip in her hand, while I was suspended by my wrists, I saw her swinging the whip. I saw Anja dancing under the whip. I saw Anja and me together on the cross.
Then the scene changed. Dorothea was kneeling in the workshop in front of me. Now I had a real recollection, something that had really happened. "Punish me, Lisette!" was Doro’s humble plea, "Punish me!" She’d had to lie between the horizontal bars on her back, I’d tied her hands above her head and spread her legs as far as they could go, I’d pulled the ropes to fix her tight. Then I’d taken the leather strap with a wooden handle. I hadn’t given her any gag, I wanted to hear her screaming. I’d hit her between the legs. O Goddess! The clap of the leather on her bare skin! Only to remember thesound of excited me even more, I squirmed with all my might on the cross. Beating her between the legs, slowly and only slightly. Then firmer, harder, Doro’s first cry - surprised, almost angry, somehow defiant. Cry all you like, cousin! I’d hit her solidly, much sharper, until she started to scream, to howl properly. She’d complained of intense pain and squirmed desperately in her bonds, I’d let her suffer, I’d given her more pain. She’d reared up and cummed with a scream. And now I felt that last one down there, I cummed again on the cross. It was commented upon out loud. The harpies looked grim, they begrudged me my orgasm.
There were now a lot of people down there, almost all of them had gathered around to witness as I collapsed. The pain was really bad, I was groaning, gasping, breathing irregularly. As always, I was longing to lose the fight – in front of all these people. They were talking shamelessly about my appearance, about my pelvis, my ass, my breasts.
"She’s got pretty little tits, just right." "Beautiful pink nipples." "They are." "That comes from pain." "Come’s the right word, but that wasn’t pain, that just happened." "Yes, it was pain, it’s horny pain, that's why she cummed."
"Wonderful slender legs, like a filly." "Pretty feet, small and slim, like a real princess." "I bet they like to walk barefoot."
In particular, some of the women were looking very intensely and commented without inhibitions on my body, they seemed to have some hidden lesbian tendencies. Others, such as the slightly older ones, were just sadistic and enjoyed looking at my torment.
I could not escape their gaze. The cross offered me freely, exposed and naked. I felt pain and anguish. I felt infinite shame. I felt joy and pride and I felt new excitement. It was a crazy cocktail of feelings. I was incredibly lucky to have promised in the morning to allow them to crucify me. I was suffering for all these people, I suffering before their eyes, it excited me beyond measure. I danced on wood. I gave everything. My hearing was sharpened unnaturally, I kept catching odd sentences.
"Unbelievable! Look at her! She doesn’t cry! She suffering like a bitch, you can see it, but still she doesn’t howl."
"She's been more than four hours on the cross!" Aha! I noted that, more than four hours. Thank you my lady.
"Man! Is this class?! What a sight! Gorgeous!" "She’s so nice I could fall in love with her. See how she’s sweating!" "She’s giving everything, she’s suffering unimaginable pain." "Isn’t she just! How beautiful!"
I was a little quieter. I realized how time was passing, soon I’d lose the battle and collapse. Soon. I was only being granted a little bit of rest before it really started.
"Water," I asked in a shaky voice. "Please, I'm thirsty."
Someone pushed a small step-ladder in front of the cross. The Japanese woman climbed up to me and let me drink from a glass of water.
"Thank you," I breathed.
"Booootiful girl!" she said and smiled at me. Then she got back down to the floor and I was alone with the cross and the pain.
