The Girl With No Name

[Eulalia]

9 Exciting dreams on the cross



The next morning I could hardly wait for Aunt Annie to go off to work. I was in a fever. All night I’d been thinking about bondage and what was awaiting me in the morning when I got up. I couldn’t help it, it had grabbed me, I was so eager, it was as if I’d just fallen in love. Crazy thoughts just poured around in my head. I silently thanked God that my cousin had caught me looking at 'the girl with no name'. By myself, I’d never have dared in my life to talk to Dorothea about my secret longings. I still thought it incredible the way this discovery of my desire for bondage had just happened.

After Aunt Annie had left and we’d washed the breakfast dishes, we went immediately to grandfather's workshop. The cross greeted me, cold and cruel. I stripped myself naked without turning a hair, it was just like changing my clothes - there was no longer any shame in me, I just did it. It was a necessary part, you don’t go to the cross in clothes, even a bikini would have been inappropriate. Being naked was essential, having to stand naked, it was really good for me. For tennis you put on your tennis dress, for swimming you pull on a swimsuit or bikini, for crucifixion you strip off all your clothes. I put my kit aside and went to the cross. I touched the smooth wood with my hand. It felt cool, but not cold. It would soon take some of my body-heat. As I lay down on the upright and moved my body into position, I thought briefly of a cross of iron. Phew! That would be cold - freezing cold. No, that's not for me.

Dorothea bound my wrists with the rope, knotted them and tied me up."What a lot of work there always is with these cords," she said, smiling down at me while she tightened her knots, "This is coming to an end, Lisette." I was shocked, an end ?! Didn't she want to tie me up me any longer? Oh, please no! This couldn’t be! I wanted the cross! I wanted to test it, savour it to the bitter end, hang there for hours, suffering. My cousin had read my thoughts, she went on, "No, not what you think, Lisette. I’ve invested a portion of my pocket money and ordered a bunch of stuff on the internet. Tomorrow the package should be here." She went to my feet and started tying my ankles with twists of the rope. "I’ve ordered leather bondage cuffs, they’re better than cords, easier to handle and you'll be able to bear it easier for longer sessions. The leather will fit round your joints, like pulling on a pair of boots. After a while, they’ll fit like a glove." She tied a knot and looked me in the eyes, "Then we can intensify your training, Lisette! For an hour and a half, and then two. Who knows how far you'll go. Anyway, I'm curious, how many hours you’ll be able to stand up to it, by the end of the holidays"

She leaned over me and stroked my cheek, "I mean, real suffering, Lisette. Not just yet, but maybe one day you’ll say, okay, I'll do four hours today on the cross, Dorothea, just leave me don’t let me come down - and then you'll torture yourself through those four hours of suffering and you’ll cope with it to the end and even want more. That would show real stamina! Only when you want four hours a day, again and again, will it be really good. Do you understand what I mean?" I nodded. My heart was pounding hard against my ribs as I lay naked and stretched on the cross. Doro’s words excited me tremendously. Four hours! Four! Would I ever make it? I didn’t know. Would I give up in two hours? In three? How far would I make it? I had no idea, but I had to make it real, I had to get answers to my questions.

Dorothea went to the pulley and hauled up. I closed my eyes and gave myself up entirely. One hour. That would be long. Sixty minutes. But hadn’t I held out yesterday for three-quarters of an hour? There had been a crisis, but I got over it. I'd do it today. While Doro secured the cross upright, I kept my eyes closed, concentrating fully on my crucifixion. I was suspended by my wrists, I was bound, I was helpless, defenceless. I couldn’t get away by my own effort. The helplessness excited me beyond measure, I had to endure, whether I liked it or not. Even if it was unbearable, I had to endure it. The very idea made my heart beat violently. It must be endured – I have to endure it, no way out.

I opened my eyes. Dorothea was standing below looking up at me, she was gazing at me, what she saw pleased her. "You look beautiful, Lisette," she said. "You would not believe how pretty you are when you're naked and tied up. You look like a living work of art, as if the work of a famous painter has suddenly come to life. You’re lovely already, but when you're really experiencing it, you seem even more beautiful, when you submit yourself to the cross. Yesterday I watched you, Lisette, you should have seen yourself, enduring the cross." Enduring the cross, oh, what an expression. My breathing grew faster, so did my heartbeat.

"I could photograph you." Dorothea spoke from the floor up to me, she had to look up to me. She was free, she had power over me, but I was raised up, I stood over her, she had to look up to me. "But a photo is no good,"my cousin continued. She shook her head, "A photo like your 'girl with no name' on your computer comes by chance once in a hundred years. If I snap you with my digital camera, you’ll just be a naked girl in bondage. Very enjoyable, yes, but nothing more." Dorothea's eyes glazed over, "I can’t, Lisette .... It would desecrate everything – I, really ... you .... on the cross you are taboo! Lisette, you’re set above everything, you're like a saint, a young goddess that no-one may touch on the cross – I mustn’t even touch you with the sensor of a digital camera, I can only look at you with my eyes, only with my eyes may I touch you. I tie you up, Lisette - and when you get down you’ll feel the floor, and maybe a leather strap, or a wooden spoon, but on the cross you are taboo, on the cross you are yourself." She stood before me and contemplated me. It was a strange feeling, being watched by my own cousin in this way. I was naked and tied up. But as long as it was only Dorothea ....

 

[Eulalia]

sorry for the break, here's a little bit more to get going again

I couldn’t help thinking of my classmate Anja, Anja Haug. Supposing she were in my place? Or we were both experiencing it together, on the wall in the classroom, in the school of my dreams? The dream – this absolutely crazy dream! How old I was when I dreamed that? I pulled on my wrist-bondage and heaved myself up a little higher. Fifteen? Or turned sixteen? I didn’t know it exactly. The dream had come out of the blue, I dreamed it over and over again, and replayed it through the following years in my head, over time I changed it, added new details and changed the screenplay. The dream.... after waking up from it I was quite jittery, that day I did not notice much at school.

In the dream I was at a girls' school, a very strict school. Our teacher was strict but fair. She was as hard as a piece of boxwood, but never malicious or mean. She raised us girls with sternness, but she never indulged any whims with us, she was absolutely straight, and it was necessary for our proper upbringing for us girls to sit up straight. If anyone was caught sitting with her back hunched over her typing, the teacher stripped that girl in front of the class, she remained for the rest of the hour, and sometimes for the rest of school day, on the cross, nude.

Several wooden crosses were fixed on the wall, and often there was more than just one of us girls occupying them naked, having to follow the lessons in this uncomfortable position. Especially poor Anja, she caught it again and again. Anja was a big-built girl, she was a head taller than me and big-boned without being fat. She was slim, but kind of rough, no beauty. Her dark, dull hair she wore in a pageboy cut, not even shoulder-length. Her eyes had an indefinable color between dark gray and a kind of blue. Her face was not really attractive, not ugly, but not specially nice, the boys wouldn’t necessarily turn round after a girl like her.

But I looked at her. I didn’t know why. At that time it had just become the fashion for girls to shave, and most of us shaved regularly - even I did it most of the time. When we showered after swimming lessons, we saw each other’s almost entirely naked pussies under the shower, but Anja Haug’s wasn’t shaved, she had a dark triangle down there. Even among the poorer girls, she was hairy. She was an anachronism in my class, hopelessly old-fashioned, a girl who didn’t join in our jokes and had never had a boyfriend, even at sixteen! Her parents were very religious and brought her up strictly. I envied her a little for, I pitied her too. Sometimes I imagined Anya's upbringing would entail using a cane. In my dream that night she got to feel it anyway. Our stern woman teacher slapped us regularly, and we were constantly on the cross in order to improve our posture. Naked! I was one of them. The teacher told us that nudity should incite our shame, so our time on the cross would be a very intense experience, powerful. This would ensure that our posture improved.

But the cross did not improve Anja’s attitude. She ended up constantly on the wall, tied with ropes by her hands and feet, hanging naked for hours on the cross. Again and again I had to look at the girl. My eyes were on the dark triangle of curly hair that clung to Anya's pubes like a magnet. I constantly looked around at the bare, bondaged girl’s stretched body, wishing I was in Anja's body myself. I didn’t know what I preferred, seeing Anja crucified or hanging on the cross myself, naked and ashamed, exposed to the curious and sometimes spiteful glances of my classmates. Of course, in reality, I wasn’t going to experience either, none of us did, and yet somehow I thought it, in dreams I knew it very well.

Often Anja could not get down from the cross for the short break, she had to spend the next hour there. I’d watch through the entire break, an unattractive and colorless girl hung naked on the cross. I saw her pussy. She wanted urgently to get away, to have to hang naked on the wall in front of everyone else was terrible for Anja Haug. I looked at her outstretched arms, her beautiful gleaming breasts, her belly drawn flat as she hung on the cross, the mystical appearance of the triangle between her legs, her long legs and slightly oversized feet. Anja had a nice figure, her pelvis was wide and nicely balanced her bust size. Guys might not find her beautiful, but I found her attractive in a special way, she was so lovely in her pain, her face contorted with suffering, and sometimes her big, sad eyes shimmered in her pale-skinned face.

I also liked her simple character and her gentle shyness. When we rode home in the train, she talked normally with us, but she was always reserved and quiet, she never made raucous jokes and never teased any other girl. She fitted in this dream, it suited her. Again and again I dreamed of myself in this particular school, this school for young ladies with its incredibly strict rules and harsh penalties for even the smallest offence.

 

[thehangingtree]

what could she say??? Anja is Anja... But the bard has not turned the twists of the tale- only rolled the dough...

Tree

 

[Eulalia]

Girls from the class stared at Anja, helpless on the cross, and mocked her, especially Sophie Hegenbarth and her cronies Vanessa Kovalic and Anabel Schneider. They made stupid remarks about Anja, not just talk, they feasted on the shame of the poor girl. But there were others, like Katja Schulz or Sarah Fitschle, who I noticed envied Anja. Katja especially had a longing in her eyes whenever she looked at Anja on the cross. She wanted to be in Anja's place, I noticed it. Unfortunately, she had bad luck, she had been blessed by nature with an upright, graceful deportment.

She wanted to be here, hanging by her gleaming arms beside Anja on the cross, stretched, naked and defenceless. In my dream I went to Katja and put my arms around her from behind. "Isn’t she beautiful?" I asked quietly, barely audible above the noise of the class. My finger pointed to Anja Haug, hung naked on the wall, her cheeks flushed with shame. Katja nodded and blushed. "I would like to be in her place," she said. She sounded sad. "Oh, why can’t I ever be in her place?" I pressed her, "You’ll have to make yourself intentionally crooked in the classroom, Katja," I said, "then the teacher will bring you to the front of the class, and you’ll have to take off your clothes, and you'll bound to the cross." In my dream, Katja was totally persuaded, full of enthusiasm, she had thanked me, her eyes bright with joy. And just so, in the next hour she used my trick and ended up hanging naked on the wall. She looked pretty, her eyes bright with excitement, but Anja was prettier for me, just because she was so unimpressive, an overgrown wallflower, quiet and beautiful in her own way as a wood-anemone in spring.

I pressed through my knees and lifted myself up. The dream then .... Again and again it had gone through my head, and I started to see my classmate Anja Haug with different eyes. Wild fantasies jumped around in my head - fantasies in which Anja and I tried things together... I had to grin. If Anja Haug had known what her classmate Lisette had been imagining for such a long time! But perhaps it would have pleased her? Was Anja like me? Was she too shy to express her secret desires? And what were those secret desires? I would never know. School was over, I’ll start in January studying for my degree. For this I’ll have to move pretty far away. Will I ever see Anja again?

Dorothea had gone to her painting table. I hadn’t even noticed, so engrossed had I been in my fantasy with Anja Haug. She was drawing, and finally picked up her brush. Occasionally I looked at her and she looked at me. Flower meadow .... I wonder whether she’ll paint a cross in it? A cross in the middle of a flowering meadow - with a naked girl bound to it?

I groaned. It hurt. It had been hurting for a while, I’d ignored it quite successfully, now I couldn’t. How long had I been on the cross? I lacked all sense of time. How could that be? Usually, I knew without looking at the clock. It moved into my arms and shoulders, into my chest. My body felt strangely overstretched. I raised my head, tried to get it to lean back against the wood of the cross. I arched up and looked towards my bound hands. Ropes, five times wrapped around the narrow joints. How slim, almost skinny, my wrists look when they’re encircled by thick bondage! I look delicate, almost fragile, but I won’t break, not for a long time, maybe never.

How will it go? What will happen to me if Dorothea and I steadily develop my daily training routine? If I have to endure longer and ever longer on the cross? Just the idea of having to endure more with each passing day excited me so much that I was wet. I clenched my legs and moved my thighs against each other. Oh, delicious, such a good feeling! If I did it long enough .... I felt like I was flaming red, I’d already had one or two orgasms this wa, legs tight together and moving against each other. The pelvic floor muscles tighten and loosen in a steady rhythm.

No-one had noticed how I’d experienced unprecedented pleasures in the train in this way. The four of us were sitting in the compartment, Katja, Franziska, Anja and me - yes, Anja! Anja Haug. She went one stop further than me and got out last. In summer she always wore skirts, never pants. Knee length skirts and bare legs, her feet in open sandals. While I secretly slid around in my seat and didn’t let anyone notice me, I watched Anya's legs and her ankles and imagined seeing the rest. A feature film was released in my head in which I stayed on with Anja until the terminus, an old station far outside the city, where there wasn’t a soul.... only Anja Haug and me. And there were ropes, cords ....

 

[malins]

she had to look up to me. She was free, she had power over me, but I was raised up, I stood over her, she had to look up to me.... you’re set above everything,​

These are the conflicting emotions... originally a punishment and disgrace, it carries the aura of elevation,adoration and worship from the religious background /that exists even for many non-believers

on the cross you are yourself.​

how true; - but with the following I disagree:

... that no-one may touch on the cross –..., I can only look at you with my eyes, only with my eyes may I touch you.

When I am truly my self: that is the moment I am to be touched, when it will truly reach me in the depths, or not? It is a moment of being free rising from being bound: the layers of falsehood, resistance or self-control peeled, from the stripping, the whipping to the revealing of the core, in the helplessness of inescapable predicament. Then comes the touch that is most intimate.

 

[Eulalia]

I tugged up at my wrist-bonds, it was hard, it was excruciating, beautiful fantasies or not. It hurt, very much. I was excited, but the tingling in my pussy didn’t grow, no matter how I moved my legs. I was panting for breath, squirming, doing a slow dance on the Cross, always trying to escape the heavy strain on my whole body. It was impossible, but I tried. Dorothea looked towards me. She liked what she saw. O Doro, I’m suffering! I’m really suffering! Is this it? All I wanted? Pain was prowling like a great invisible cat. The cat purred, the purr was pain - pain that agonized me. I was being tormented, I could not escape the torment, she had me under her control.

Sometimes I fell quite still for a while on the wood, turned inside myself, listening to the music of pain deep inside me, feeling the pain in every part of my bound body. Then I started to dance, slowly, tensely, and in ever-increasing pain. Am I being tortured yet? Is this real pain? Or am I being silly? Come on, Lisette! It's only an hour! A silly little hour, and you’re carrying on so! Don’t be so pathetic! I gritted my teeth. I danced. I pulled and tugged at my bonds. I moaned softly. My naked body was silver-plated with a fine film of sweat, the pain was making me sweat, I was shivering, at the same time I was hot.

Don't be like that, Lisette! What is just one hour!? Pathetic, Lisette! Pathetic! A miserable hour or so! Don’t you dare moan out loud! I don’t want to hear a single sound from you! But it hurts! I wailed in thought, O ye gods of Olympus, it hurts! I can’t stand it any longer! Nonsense, Lisette! Of course you can, just concentrate, blot it out. Yes you’ve got it girl, you can’t get rid of it, so stop fighting it, you’ve got no choice anyway. Take part in it, give yourself up to it...

I let myself sink in my bondage and kept quiet for a while. Aaah.... my arms! My shoulders, my ankles! They’re burning, my knees are shaking, they’re tired from the constant pushing of my body. I'm trembling. Don’t shiver, Lisette, hang perfectly still. Take the pain. He won’t harm you, Lisette. Hold still. Let him overcome you. Can you feel it? He’s not malicious, he’s is just there, with you, in you, Lisette. Pain is just a feeling, a feeling like any other. It can’t harm you, it's only pain. Welcome him. Say hello to Pain. Take him, you can do it!

I could not. I remained silent. No more moaning. Again I began to dance, slowly, almost lazily, I moved on the cross in my bondage. Yes, it was my bondage, just there for me. It held me, it gave me support, just like the cross. Pain was there, I couldn’t get rid of him. He didn’t make bargains, whether I liked it or not, I had to accept him.

I did it! I welcomed him, gave him myself completely up to him. My breathing began to go deeper, I was part of the cross, Pain was united me with me. I welcomed the punishment, she came to me, hugged me, touched me inside and outside, all over. It was a caress full of woe and pain. I reared up slowly, then let myself fall back down. I danced on the cross, I was one with the cross, I became one with the punishment. I tried to imagine them both out of me, I couldn’t. An incredible feeling - I could stand it, I endured it, hard as it was, I stuck it out. The excitement returned to me, strong, sweet, gorgeous. I danced on the wood, I danced with the pain of a slow waltz in captivating slow motion.

Down below me my cousin slipped into my field of vision. No! I thought, no, Dorothea, not now! You are with me, we are together, the pain, the suffering, the cross, the ropes. Don’t separate me from them! I am one with them, we go together like siblings. I think it’s from… I....

The singing of the chain .... The cross sinks down .... I with it…obedience .... I can't be disobedient .... Lisette Lange, bound and tied up, naked and helpless... tears welled up in my eyes. I had arrived. I was there. It was true. I couldn’t believe it, I’d welcomed the pain, I could say welcome to the punishment, I could stand it, all of it!!

Dorothea was untying me, "Was it that bad?" she asked sympathetically. I shook my head, "No, Doro, not at all bad. I felt completely okay up there. In the end it was supernatural, I was welcoming the chastisement....." I looked up at her, "I can do it, Dorothea, the training’s working, I can stand it, all of it. You'll see!"

 

[malins]

despite my interjection above, which is due to only my own directions of desire, I must say that this is a very enjoyable story: because it looks at everything from the inside out, with understanding. Describing the Lisette's acceptance, and welcome, of pain is another good example for this. Where but "acceptance" is a too simple word. She speaks of taking it inside, uniting with it - and once it is taken inside, it even gives support.

 

[Eulalia]

10 Figurehead



Dorothea gave me my freedom for some time. I stretched and stretched and rubbed my joints, hands and feet. I was wearing beautiful inscriptions of the ropes that had held me on the cross. I was happy, totally euphoric. I was proud. I had endured it. A whole hour! I felt great. My arms andshoulders hurt, but I was in a really good mood, already looking forward to the second round in the afternoon. I’ll show I can do it, I’ll say welcome to the pain again. I was standing naked in the workshop, feeling the cool stone floor under my bare feet – the feeling was indescribable, I felt lucky to have suffered! My most secret desire had been fulfilled, I was happy like a little kid at Christmas. Girl with no name, I thought, I've come, I’ve come to you, I’ll be equal to you. I'll take it, I want it, never have I wanted anything so much for myself.

Without bothering to dress, I went to Dorothea’s painting table. The flower meadow was gradually taking shape. The first layers of colour now outshone the pencil outlines. I looked at the jumble of tubes of paint and brushes on the table. Dorothea had chosen an expensive hobby, the colours she was using weren’t cheap kinds, I knew the prices. My cousin could afford it, on the one hand, her mother had inherited a small fortune from her late husband, and on the other Aunt Annie deserved thanks, Dorothea was financially very well taken care of.

I felt Doro’s hands on my shoulders. "How are you, Lisette?" "Good," I replied, "I feel fabulous." "No pain?" "A little," I replied, "my shoulders hurt. In my arms it’s easing already. What are we going to do next?" "I want a ramble in the countryside," she replied, "I’ll be looking in the ponds, I take a small aquarium, so I can photograph the pond-life." "Fine," I said, "I'll come with you." "But before that, there’s still training to be done, cousin." I turned to face her, she smiled. "I told you, crucifixion is not enough. As your personal trainer I’m prescribing additional daily training for you, as from now. You’ll have bound and be restrained, to endure pains which will be added to your ration. Let's start right now." She gestures, inviting me, "Come, Lisette."

We crossed over to her grandfather’s gymnastic bar, where we picked up the rolled carpets that were leaning against the wall. "We’ll take all five of them," she ordered, "so you have it nice and soft..." she smiled at me knowingly, ".... if it’s hard for you." We managed to unroll the carpet and spread them out on the floor, all five, one on top of another, so there was a soft pad on the ground. Now I had to help adjust the horizontal bar to the height of my cousin. She set it at head height on the two uprights. In these uprights there were from top to bottom where the horizontal bar could be fixed. Doro wanted the beam fairly low down, not far above the floor. "Should I balance on it?" I asked jokingly. Dorothea smiled at me. "Not quite, but not so wrong, It's about your feet, Lisette.." She looked at me closely. "I’m glad you're still naked - that’s appropriate, I think you should always be naked when you're tied up." She looked at me, I nodded in agreement. Where did she get that sergeant-major’s voice from? Not that I minded, I did what my cousin wanted without needing any further orders.

I had to lie below the horizontal bar on my stomach, and bend my lower leg up with the Achilles tendon so my ankles were in contact with the horizontal bar. Doro told me to slide forward until my lower leg was exactly straight up. She took a rope and tied my feet together at the ankles -the usual procedure, several turns of rope around my ankles, pulled tight, passed between my legs, knotted. Then she pressed my feet against the beam, and fixed them there with more tight twists of the rope, so tight I could hardly move. What was she up to? She took another rope, knelt down next to my upper body. I had to put my forearms against each other behind my back, she tied them together very firmly. She pulled the bonds and tied them neatly. I was feeling the carpet-pile under my belly and my naked breasts. I held myself still obediently, even reverently, as my cousin tied me. It was a very nice feeling to be bound by Dorothea.

She made a final knot, stood up and looked at me. She seemed satisfied with her work, but then she remembered something. She ran to the wall and brought a further rope. This she tied to my bound forearms, exactly in the middle. Once she’d got it tight, she pulled the rope back up to the beam where my feet were tied. She pulled the rope around the horizontal bar and began to pull. My arms, tied together, wer being pulled back, my upper body was under stress and being raised, my bare breasts poked forward in the air. Doro made the rope fast to the beam. I was like a figurehead on the carpets, my front raised up, stretched nicely. I liked the tension, it pulled strongly on my shoulders. I still had no idea what Dorothea wanted to do to me. Was this all? Did I now just have to endure this strain? That was beautiful, I just wanted to enjoy it.

Dorothea stood up, she ran away and came back with something. I looked up, she had a stick in her hand. Suddenly I knew what she meant. I swallowed. I was warm, very warm. She sat down cross-legged in front of me, swinging the stick loosely in her hand. "Your feet, Lisette," she said, "can’t escape. You’ll have to keep still while I whip your bare soles. You can exert yourself as much as you want, you won’t succeed in pulling your feet away, no way. Are you ready? " "Yes," I said simply. My heart was in my throat. She only needed to mention my bare feet, I was more than ready. I tried to relax somehow. The manner in which I was bound limited any such attempt. My upper body was slightly raised, I could let my head drop, or hold it proud, just as I liked. Over the rest of my body I had practically no control, my posture was dicated for me by the tight-fitting bondage. I closed my eyes for a moment. The ropes, the ropes held me in shape, they forced me into a definite posture. It was great bondage, but it was something else too...

Dorothea stood up, she went behind me, stood beside me behind the horizontal bar, and bet forward. Tentatively she patted the bottoms of my feet. I tried to move them, I couldn’t do much, I could move them up and down, and twist them sideways a little. More than a little helpless fidgetting was not allowed. I tensed my leg muscles. Pointless. I couldn’t move my feet. Of course not. The beam held them in place, they were well and truly tied. Now she’s going to hit me, I thought, my heart pounding. Now she’ll beat me! Now I’ll feel the strokes...

 

[Eulalia]

She hit me. She aimed so that the stick hit both soles. It clapped softly, I winced. Not very strong, no. A few more blows, each quite loose, just sample strokes. Doro swished on, she swung on. I could see it from the corner of my eye. Slap! The noise when the stick hit my sensitive soles grew louder, the pain stronger. There wasn’t real pain, only a strong feeling, I thought it was beautiful, it was exciting, I was wet, I was loving it. She hit harder. My feet twitched. Then a break, my cousin took her time, I absorbed the shock. She stared again, hard! Ow! I gritted my teeth, there was no sound from me. How soon will you get me to scream Doro? Not very, not me! Swipe! The next blow, hard - very hard. My feet twitched and moved against each other, without my controlling them. Peng! The next blow. Ouch, I felt it now. Peng! Another one. And the same again. I inhaled sharply. Huu! Was it pain? I didn’t think about it for long, I had no time to. Dorothea went on chastising my feet, striking at regular intervals, every stroke was a little sharper, and after each blow she allowed a little break from three to five seconds, during which I could quietly moan and squirm.

"How does that feel?" asked Dorothy. "As if I am being beaten," I replied. A low chuckle, "I mean, does it feel good for you or does it hurt?" "Good," I replied. "It doesn’t hurt a right lot, I can bear it." "Then I’ll put some bite in it, Lisette, you shall feel it, right?" I was silent and focused on my bondage and my feet. Petch! It landed, and how! It was with difficulty that I suppressed a scream. Patch! I gasped loudly, squirming in the bonds. Darn! I was feeling it now for real! Still, I liked it. In my pussy, it began to tingle – not too strongly.

Several blows in quick succession, each one stronger than the last. I reared up in the bondage, gasped, groaned. Another blow - even harder. Goddess! I yelped when the stick whipped on my unprotected feet, a crazy noise, but the sound has already was to me a small piece of music from both pain and pleasure. Dorothea paused, then she struck, this time so hard that it tore a shout from me. No! Don’t shout! Shut up, Lisette! Don’t let your torturer triumph! You mustn’t give up any sound of yourself! Doro continued to beat my feet, and very firmly. It hurt, very much. I squirmed with all my strength, I fidgetted with my feet and tried to pull them out of reach of the stick - which, of course, I couldn’t. Oh, how it hurt! But I remained adamantly silent, I gritted my teeth and held back the screams. One blow after another. Hard. Very hard. Too hard. I was gasping, squirming, moaning. But I didn’t cry.

Dorothea paused. Did I heard her panting, needing air? Because I was proving so hard? How cool! To hear my cousin breathing heavily aroused me to such an extent that the tingling in my pussy grew even stronger. I heard her muttering. "....she’s not there!" She hit even harder, slammed it with every blow on my feet. I squirmed, I gasped, I reared, yet I didn’t cry. It hurt enough to cry, but I was silent. Dorothea muttered something. Taking a further pause for breath, she hit me harder still. "Are you getting it?" Blow after blow. Patch! Petch! Peng! Zing! Every time my feet twitched, every time I fought with all my strength in my bonds, oh yes, I wanted to get away - Stop it! Stop it! Hold it! I can’t stand it any longer! But still I said nothing. Doro hit me. Drops of sweat appeared on my forehead. The carpet pile scratched at my bare belly. I was breathing intermittently through my wide-open mouth, gasping with the effort and pain. It was almost unbearable. But I had to endure, whether I liked it or not. The next blow was so hard that a cry flew out of my lips. Another one. Darn! She’d made me cry out!

Dorothea hit me. She chastised me so much that I let out a little cry at every second or third beat. I couldn’t hold back any longer. Petsch! "Ow!" “Dub! "Ow!" Peng! "Aah!" It went on, it didn’t stop. Did Dorothea intend to force me to plead for mercy? No way, I won’t beg for mercy, not if you go on thrashing me all day long! I thought defiantly. I put up a fierce resistance, gasping, crying, groaning, floundering, squirming in my bonds. I’d lost all sense of time. the blows came with monotonous regularity, loud gasps and crying softly helped me, I gave myself up to it, I cried when it hurt, I no longer resisted it. Why should I? I was the underdog, either way. Dorothea had control over me, she controlled my cries, she controlled my pain, she could give me pain or spare me, just as she pleased, I had no influence over it. My cries and tears had no effect on her, I did not cry to her – yet, I just cried to God, that it hurt, that I wanted to get away, but Pain was there, he was circling me like a dog, gnawing and biting again and again righ into me. I was at his mercy, helpless. He fell upon me. I gasped. I shouted. I squirmed, a helpless girl in bondage, at the mercy of my merciless cousin with the stick, the Inquisitor.

Suddenly it was over. I hung for a couple of seconds, cramped in the bondage, anticipating further strokes. But no more came. Dorothea came forward: "That's it for today, Lisette." O thank you, thank you dear Inquisitor, for releasing me. Thank you, I kiss your feet. Goddess, I was glad it was over. My feet started to burn and throb. The pain spread up from them and filled all of me with pain of the finest quality. Now I had to do my best not to burst into tears. Dorothea knelt in front of me. With her hand she lifted my chin and forced me to look up to her, "You're quite pretty fixed like that, Lisette. But I don’t think you think so." No I don’t, I don’t, I was in pain, but I felt pride. I had endured it, I had to endure it.

"No more beatings for your poor feet," Dorothy said, as she let me go. "I’ll paint for a bit, you can remain tied up – staying stretched in bondage part of the training, Lisette. You can think about what’s just happened to you....." She got up and disappeared from view. I was left alone on the carpets, naked, helpless and tied up. With a silent moan I moved my feet, they hurt, but it was also beautiful. What had happened to me, I liked. Of course when Dorothea made it really hard, I wanted to get away, but I’d enjoyed it. Now it was over, I felt gratitude for the blows, I felt humility, I felt subjected – yet this didn’t depress me in the least, on the contrary, I liked it, I enjoyed my submission, I wanted to experience it much more often, day after day, training in enduring pain, but also training in submission and humility. I found it wonderful, I could shout for joy, I felt a deep satisfaction, I was ready for more, I wanted it.

 

[thehangingtree]

 

[Eulalia]

11 Poor city kid and strict school


I lay there, as good as motionless. The ropes were holding me down, my feet were throbbing. My cousin was painting. What I had just experienced was incredible, in my mind the thoughts were spinning like a merry-go-round. Was I really here, in the workshop of Dorothea's grandfather? Was this really me, naked and stripped bare – and tied? Lying in bondage on these carpets? I was there. I could feel the twists of rope, grasping my wrists, fixing my ankles on the horizontal bar, holding me almost motionless. I was naked - stripped. I felt it, the carpet touching my bare skin, my feet, punished with the stick, throbbing - not very much, not any more. It was a beautiful pain. Pride-giving. I’d had to endure the blows, I had endured them. My God, what’s happened to me? What have I done with myself? I’d stripped myself naked and let my own cousin tie me up, let her beat me.

If anyone knew, Lisette! What would it mean, what would they think? I felt shame rising. What was I doing here? But the shame could not prevail, because of my excitement which was growing by the minute. Desire was stronger than shame, yes, she put her arm around Shame and said, "Glad you're here, it’s still nice to be with you. But stand back and let Lisette go. Should she really be ashamed? She can’t change what she's been through, she wanted it so very much, she longed for it, in her secret dreams, in her fantasies. All these years she could see them in her mind, just as a film, now she’s experienced it in reality. She’s experienced it, let her suffer it.

I suffer it. I endure it. I can stand it. I can cope with it. I have to. The compulsion made all the difference, it added what I needed, it was wonderful. I had to submit voluntarily to being tied, then I had to accept whatever was done to me. Everything! What’s to come? What has Dorothea thought out for me? I had no clue, would it be a fight for my bare soles every day from now on? O yes, please! Every day I will endure it! Please, Doro! But what else? Was there still more??? I hoped so, I wanted more, certainly I wanted it. I let myself sink deep into my imagination. Dorothea, do with me what you will, treat me however you think best. Hurt me, Dorothea, I beg, lock me up and subject me to torture, hurt me without restraint, give me pain, sacrifice me to Pain, deliver me up to him, let myself be the pain, myself the agony. I want it so, Dorothea, really…

My heart was pounding, it was in my throat, I was excited like never before. I pressed my legs together and began to work. I want it, Dorothea, I want it very much, I want, I want, I want! Oh what is to come? Ropes, bondage, restraints – I have to endure, I must endure it, I want, I want, I want it so much! Dorothea! Come, take me whenever you want and hit me. I was blushing with shame, hot with excitement. Even that was something I had to endure, shame and excitement. I was at the mercy of these feelings, helpless. Even my emotions were controlled, because I had given up control, I’d emptied myself completely. What more would my cousin do with me? I was curious, I was excited, and still, a little bit, I was ashamed. What was I doing? What was I doing? What have I done to myself? Oh sweet, shameful secret!

A jerk, I fell forward onto the carpet. I hadn’t noticed Dorothea had come over to the frame. She untied me, I felt regret, I’d have loved to stay tied up there longer, my body yearned for it then just much as my soul. "Now we’ll go hiking, Lisette." Dorothea helped me get up, my legs were a little wobbly. I looked at the prints of the ropes on my wrists. I forbade myself to rub them they should stay visible as long as possible, my symbols of subjection, the marks of my humiliation. I, Lisette Lange, show my humility, I offer myself, I am willing to submit completely. I was so excited I had to suppress a shudder. "Wait," said my cousin. From somewhere she took the chain, the chain that she’d wrapped around my waist and pulled through between my legs, the chain that had rubbed and pressed me when I ran. "You need to be chained up at least a bit when we run around outside," Dorothea laughed gently at me, "You must never be completely free, Lisette, you’ll always be in bondage. More and more, you’ll go in chains. Lisette wears the chain, the chain binds Lisettë." She spoke my name in the German way, with the "e" at the end sounded, instead of French "Lisett’"

"You'll always be wearing it in future, always, Lisette - no knickers, do you hear me? You’ll always be naked underneath. Get dressed," she called, as she examined my clothes - skirt and blouse, flat sandals - what she saw pleased her. “And we’ll use the chain." She grinned, "Maybe sometimes it’ll put a spring in your step - who knows?!" She watched as I put on my blouse - it was dark green, Mother had given it me, with a little white embroidery on the breast patch-pocket, and then my denim skirt, its hem was playing around my knees as Dorothea picked up my sandals made of leather, coloured like a horse-saddle, a shade of foxy brown on the insoles showed clearly the prints of my bare feet. She looked at me, "These stay here, Lisette, yes?" She spoke as if she were asking me a question, had I had any choice? Could I say no? Could I say no? My cousin looked at me silently, she seemed to be waiting for a response. I gave her none, because she already knew the answer, because she knew exactly as I knew that I had given up control, I‘d do whatever she asked of me, because it was pleasurable, exciting, to obey, to have to obey. She needed no loud sergeant’s voice to command me, give me directions.

For a moment, a picture flashed in my head. Myself, bound, outdoors on a forest road, my hands tied behind my back and Dorothea directing me on a lead – how does she steer me? A rope round my right and left upper arms? She pulls it to the right, I go right? Or I wear something in my mouth, something that’s moored there with leather straps so I can’t spit it out, slender leather reins running to the back my neck, and Doro directs me with them – tempting idea, Lisette with a bridle, going walkies like a tame pet! Doro grabbed my hand, "Come on, let us go into the house and get the equipment!"

 

[Eulalia]

a very nice passage coming up - I really identify with Lisette!
the original had some scary, Google-baffling, German compounds,
but brave little eul doesn't panic,
gently eases them apart and (hopefully ) makes some sense of them...

Ten minutes later we leave the place and head east. The dirt road we were walking along was sandy and soft, gorgeous under my bare feet, a pleasure. The chain in my crotch massaged me. O delicious sensation, whyever hadn’t I come up with the idea of creating such a thing for myself? It was wonderfully exciting, it aroused me softly and gently, not forcefully or insistently, the chain between my legs just kept me in a state of constant, mild agitation. I wanted to go on, I wanted to step out, I never wanted to stop, keep going, to the far side of the world, run and run barefoot and go on running without end .... Lisette Lange, the child of nature.... Children's dreams of a land of eternal summer with sandy slopes and meadows stretching to the horizon, with horse-drawn wagons and ponies to ride and farmers who ploughed their fields with horses and oxen. Hiking .... up to the horizon and beyond.... to the end of the rainbow .... Lisette Lange, little girl, wild and free .... no shoes, no school .... Always free .... free ....

I looked at Dorothea. She had it, at least to some extent, my cousin with her dark, almost black, hair and dark blue eyes, Dorothea Flörke, child of nature. Our field-trips during the holidays, our excursions on foot and on bicycle, buckets and fishing nets in our packs, off to the pools and ponds, to the stream in the forest where crayfish hid under the stones and small silvery minnows darted through the water. Only these few weeks of the year for me – I, Lisette Lange, was a wannabe child of nature, imprisoned among walls, asphalt and concrete, caught in the booming, bustling, honking, jostling city. On the city sidewalks, a girl doesn’t go barefoot, there are evil things for her soles to slip on - broken glass, bird crap, dog poo, cigarette butts, chewing gum, food scraps, spit, road dirt.... Once! Just once .... Katja, Sarah and me. And Vanessa Kovalic – yes, Vanessa, of all girls! Off school early, free time, didn’t feel like going home. Outdoor pool closed, pump under repair, so the four of us decide to tour the city. Jokes, laughter, window-shopping. In the park we took off our shoes, and we kept them in our school bags when we left the park, through the paved squares with benches and paths crowded with people. We criss-crossed through our city - all roads were ours. Hot dogs, Cola at the kiosk, music from the CD store - we danced barefoot in front of it on the cobbles of the old town, girls summer-drunk, elated by the music, driven on by laughter ....

Lunchtime came, and with it the end of our trip. We lifted our feet up behind us and looked at the blackness of freedom, black feet, so black, raven black. The feeling is still present in my heart, the feeling that invaded me there, it had attacked me like a mighty bird of prey gripping my shoulders in its claws, it had pounced on me there at the traffic lights, where we looked at our dirty feet and laughed. "Blackfoot" we teased Vanessa, laughing loudly, and we all laughed at each other, I got teased too. And deep inside my soul was weeping, the monster had thrown me to the ground and pressed my face into the dirt of the city.

The blackness of freedom? Did our black soles bear witness to our summer-girl freedom? Not at all! The sadness dropped over me like a huge black bell and robbed the sun of its colour. It was the darkness of the city, the blackness of our prison, car-tyre wear, brake-shoe wear, road-dirt. We were prisoners, trapped on asphalt, shut in between concrete walls, separated from nature. Road-signs were our forest, car horns and people shouting our birdsong. Our laughter was the singing of small children in a pitch-dark cellar, we wanted to sing for the fear that prowled down there, each of us alone where the monsters lurk, as only children know…

 

[Eulalia]

On the way I began to cry. "Lisette?" Dorothea nudged me, gently, questioningly. "Lisette?" More urgently, “Afraid? Scared? Lisette?" I looked up, "Yes?" She’s beside me, blue-eyed, tall - and questioning, startled, curious, anxious, friendly, laughing. "Where were you?" "In prison. I must go back there soon." Now unshed tears were burning behind my eyes. The city was waiting, my dungeon, my dirty, noisy, howling, roaring prison, that blackened my feet and blackened my soul, pushing all my thoughts down into darkness, making my heart limp. She took my hand, "Lisette? Tell me!" What can I say? How to put the unspeakable into words? Can you pronounce tears? Can spell out feelings?

I told her out there on the rough, sandy track that led away to the horizon, a horizon of grass, fields and church towers, with no city noise, no city smog, no city cars, no city walls, no city noise, no city roar. I told her everything, it poured out of me, it was as if my soul had to vomit, vomit up all the filth and prison stench. Doro listened, with her deep blue eyes and dark hair like midnight in the sunshine, gently pressing my hand, her arm around my shoulders. She let me cry, my tears wet the sand and the grass on the roadside. Everything, everything had to come out, the sorrow of the child in the prison dungeon, the city was to blame, city air is not free, city air imprisons me!

I calmed down only slowly. Strangely, I didn’t feel the chain in my private part as long as I was telling her everything of myself from the soul. "When you're finished with your studies," Dorothea said softly, "you must look for a job that will allow you to live outside, away from the city. Promise yourself that, Lisette, the city’s cutting off the air you need to live on." "I hate them!" It came out of me like a shot from a gun. "What beautiful places are there in the city? Shops, beer-gardens, cafés? The whole caboodle – let them have it!" "You only have to get on the Metro in the evening and get out of it, away from it all! Just go!" I looked at my cousin, "Yes, I’ll leave the city, as quick as I can, Dorothea. Just complete my studies, then I'll be off, I have to be, otherwise I’ll die."

Our ecological work began on the Grieventümpel (place-name?) at the old dilapidated farmhouse behind the Soonwaldsteig (place-name? 'Soon Forest' path?). Doro took off her shoes to wade into the shallow pool of water. Seriously, as researchers, we examined soil and plants. We filled the aquarium - a small plastic one Doro had brought, that held just one litre of water - and put the creatures we caught into it. She photographed them with her camera - dragonfly larvae, water-beetles, pond-skaters, three-spined sticklebacks, newts, tadpoles (she knew whether they were frog or toad), striped bugs, mud snails, strips of floating larvae, and the larvae of caddis flies, of which there were several kinds, some build tubes, they drag them along as elongated shells glued together with sand grains and plant parts. Dorothea with her camera - macro lens, x300, expensive equipment. As I’ve already told you, my cousin was financially well off. There are girls who take photos with cameras costing €130, others take them with cameras costing €300. Doro’s camera had cost €3,000. I wasn’t jealous of her camera, I was just envious of her environment, nature, always there for her, and jealous because she’d still kept her curiosity about these natural things - even after eighteen years. Dorothea the naturalist. Of course she’ll study biology, or something in that line. I decided to do the same. Maybe we could study together!

In the stream in the forest we ran barefoot - soft riverbed, sandy. We caught crustaceans and photographed them. I found it hard stooping down, the chain in my groin was a fetter of a very special kind! We made our way home, sandy paths, grass, meadow grass. My springy steps awakened the chain back to life, she rubbed and stroked me, she squeezed and massaged my sensitive spot on my girl-body. Delightful secret pleasure, Lisette’s secret lust! Dorothea and I talked, we chatted about our favorite subject, holidays in New Zealand, touring that country at the other end of the world for three months. A dream, nothing but a dream. No money. Not even Doro with her wealthy mother could raise the money we needed for it. Aunt Annie wasn’t that generous. She was also of the opinion that you had to earn that kind of dough. While we were talking about sheep and wide meadows and green hills, the chain was rubbing my pussy patiently in step with me. It slipped higher and higher, quietly, Doro didn’t remember I had it, It was my secret, my sweet little secret. Grind me chain, press gently, tender-sweet torture.

The workshop came sooner than I expected, I hadn’t been paying attention to the road, and suddenly we were back home. The chain hadn’t had enough time – what a pity! "Give it to me, I'll take it into the house," I said to Doro as we took off our packs with all the stuff. "No, leave it, I want to load the images onto my laptop," she said, "here in the workshop, while you're hanging on the cross." "Good, then I'll get your computer." Before she could say anything, I ran off to the house. Chain, chain, chain! Each step had to be set very precisely, bare foot in front of bare foot. I didn’t really run, I strode. Indoors, up the stairs to Doro’s room where we both slept. On the third step from the top it happened, I clutched tight onto the wooden bannister, my legs straight, and came… I couldn’t suppress a shaky moan. Haah! Oh how good that was! Dorothea didn’t notice anything when I brought her laptop, she just told me to take off my clothes and go to the cross. I had to give up the chain, I wasn’t allowed to wear it on the cross. I obeyed.

 

[Eulalia]

After I was tied to the wood, Dorothee was standing beside me. She stroked me, stroking my arms and legs, my stomach, my face. "An hour, Lisette," she said, "Are you ready?" I nodded, I was ready, I was constantly ready. Dorothea went to the pulley and hauled up, the chain sang its faint clicking song, the song of the pulley. Soon the cross was standing upright in the workshop, Doro inserted the securing bolt and it was all complete.

It was different than in the morning, I felt it immediately. It would be harder, much harder, I was facing a tougher test than the morning before. What was the reason? Afternoon hypersensitivity? Was that it? Was I more sensitive to pain at certain times? Fever is highest in the afternoon, up to five o’clock, does one feel pain in the afternoon more?

I was tied as always, Dorothea had tied me up carefully. On each wrist she had placed five closely spaced loops of rope, so the strain was well distributed. Similarly, many twists were wound around my ankles, but there the cord was also drawn through between my feet. The ropes were firm, they had to give me the necessary support, but they weren’t over-tight. Nevertheless, they hurt. I felt them much more than in the morning. Also my shoulders came forward with the arms. Was it soreness? No, it felt different. It was more like .... I remembered how, when I hadn’ been riding for several weeks, then went on a long ride, it wasn’t difficult, but then at the weekend, when I went for another ride., my butt and thighs had protested immediately I was in the saddle, they complained vigorously, my pussy especially resisted sitting on horseback, it forced dozens of ‘ouches!’ in all possible tones. My rump-meat was still tender from the previous day, it took a good twenty minutes before I could stand it to some extent. On the longer ride I hadn’t thought about it. So I felt now about the cross. My ordeal in the morning had left its mark on me, it was harder to bear, much harder, but I had to endure, that was clear to me. I couldn’t tell if I liked the prospect or not, I was up here in any case, but I wasn’t going to worry unnecessarily, I’d shown in the morning that I could stand it, so I would hold out now, I had to.

Dorothea looked at me for a while, then she went to the table and worked on her computer. She plugged in her camera and loaded the photos onto the hard disk. I closed my eyes for a while and concentrated on my body. I analyzed where it hurt and how much. I moved a bit. This barely affected me. Hardships, Lisette, hardships, the school is in full swing. A new-old fantasy was haunting my head. Of course, my favourite dream of the strict school, but our timetable looked a little different from the regular school curriculum, I’d say. After I’d had the dream with Anja Haug, I built it up in my imagination further and further. The school had become in my head a school of perfect bondage, a school of suffering. The strangest of subjects was on the timetable: Hardships. Today we have the Second and Third Level Hardships with Ms. Müller. This meant training for enduring prolonged bondage. A large room, much larger than a normal school hall, was our classroom. Now we were no longer tied up as a punishment, having to suffer. No, my fantasy had changed - this particular school was a training institute for daughters, in which they were daily tied up, beaten and crucified. In the Hardship lessons, Ms. Müller taught us a wide variety of bondage. In front of all the other girls’ eyes, a couple of us had to undress and submit themselves. Ms. Müller had a thick book with many incredible bondage examples, some of them had the wildest fantasy names: the Stretched Fish, the Kneeling Camel, the Stretched Girl, the Blindfolded Girl, Stretching in Chains, Leg-Straddling with Ankle-Bondage. There were so many ways to tie a girl, we had to make drawings of the chosen girl, with the name of the bondage and a detailed description, otherwise we would not be able to appreciate it.

So poor Anja Haug lay on her back, stretched her arms above her head and spread her legs, so her pussy was wide open. Or she stood on a pile of books so she could reach to the ceiling, stretched her arms above her head, and then they were tied behind a pole. She was so stretched she could only stand on her toes, Anya’s tall slender body wa wonderfully extended, how beautiful she was! The teacher showed us the anatomy of the tied-up girl, warned us of tense muscles, and let us write down what was special about this or that form of bondage, and how it could be applied. There was bondage that hurt and soon got the bound girl complaining loudly, after just twenty minutes. Such whining disturbed the lesson too much, so the poor wretch would get a gag in her mouth and had to continue enduring, silently weeping, while Ms. Müller praised the effectiveness of the restraint.

More than once I had to undress and let myself be bound by the teacher in front of my classmates. There was the day when I was standing with my back to the wall, I had my hands tied and pulled up above my head. Ms. Müller tied the rope that ran from my hands up to a hook on the wall, then she lifted my legs, first the left, then the right, and made them fast with rope tied on more hooks in the wall. She stretched me cruelly, my legs spread horizontally. Then the girls had to come up close and look at everything carefully. Ms. Müller told them to touch me between the legs, to feel the tension of the hamstrings. The constant touching down there excited me beyond measure, especially because some girls fingered me intentionally so that they touched my genitals and quickly prodded, rubbed and massaged there – all in front of the teacher of course. "Sophie, stop that, exciting the bondage girl too much!" scolded Ms. Müller, "We want to watch her suffer while you’re working, we want to find out when the captive girl’s uncomfortable. If you finger her to orgasm, we can wait forever - she should be moaning in pain not pleasure. So hands off the bondage girl!" ‘Bondage girl’. She never used the name of a bound student, she always said ‘bondage girl’, or ‘tethered girl’, ‘bound girl’, she spoke of the pain of the ‘captive girl’, of the tension in the muscles of the ‘imprisoned girl’ - no name. I was taken aback - at that time already? That was long before I discovered the photo of the girl with no name on the Internet, it occurred to me. Had I even then been a girl who wanted to be without a name, when I was tied up? Crazy world! Here was I, only now aware of it at the age of eighteen, while naked, tied to a cross.

I moved. Oh it was hard to bear at this time, really hard, my arms ached, my shoulders too. Are my classmates standing down there before my cross? I saw Anja Haug look up at me, eyes wide in her bright face. Ms. Müller quoted from her thick book, about crucifixions and the different ways you could attach a captive girl on a cross. I was a captive girl? Or I was a crucified girl? Both names I liked.

In the fourth hour we had Slavegirl Training. There we learned a lot about humility and devotion, on acquiescing in humiliation and pain. The energetic woman Schindler conducted these lessons and, like all the other teachers, she gave us practical examples to observe. One of us - frequently Anja Haug – had her hands tied behind her back and had to kneel in front of the class, the whole lesson long on the hard wooden floor. Or if Schindler caught any of us arriving late at the beginning of the class, she put in a gag and tied our arms behind the back of the chair. Silenced, we had to follow the lessons.

The next day we had Tying in the first hour. We learned the different types of bondage and how to apply it. We had to tie up each other, and the teacher gave us notes on our work. Woe unto you if you pulled the rope too tight, even worse, if it was too loose! "Lange! Lisette Lange! What is that supposed to be? Do you want your bondage girl to fall down off the cross ?! Kindly bind her firmly and decently! This will be entered against you in the discipline-book."

Description came in the second hour. Now a girl was tied up in front of everyone in some way and she had to describe exactly while we listened what she was feeling. Everything had to be said, absolutely everything! How the bondage felt, of course, but including whether her arms, legs or shoulders hurt, yes the bondage girl had to recite it all in great detail, exactly what it felt like. One or two of us were assigned to stimulate the spread-bondage girl with our fingers, and she had to recite what it felt like. There were classes in which a girl was beaten before our eyes and had to recite aloud what it felt like, and ones in which she was beaten harder and we spectators had to tell the teacher what the bondage girl was feeling. Anja Haug was always one of those who were tied up and whipped, who had to suffer long on the cross or other hanging device, and I was there often too, happy and tormented at the same time. Anja’s stretched, her naked body’s at the stake, her hands tied above her head, she’s squirming under the lash, she screams, she cries, I watch, wildly excited, my heart beating furiously.

I had to grin. Man, if my teachers in my real-life school had only known what I was thinking while they taught me the gerund or tried to force the Pythagorean theorem into my skull! Or Anja Haug! How would she have reacted if she’d learned somehow that she was being tied up in my head-movies, naked on a cross? That I was staring at her the whole hour, enjoying the view of her white body writhing on the cross? That her pain aroused my sympathy, but that it also excited me beyond measure to see her suffering?

Meanwhile, I too was suffering.

 

[Eulalia]

It was painful. Pain was crawling across me, he was flowing lazily like burning tar through the muscles of my arms and my shoulders. Even my chest muscles hurt. My ankles were burning the twists of rope held me down there, but my bare feet hadn’t much grip on the sloping support-block. Without the bondage I’d have slipped, or been constantly struggling not to slip. The tight-knotted bondage held my feet in place, but I was paying for that, it hurt. It was not unbearable yet, but it was starting to become unbearable. Everything was working together, I was tightly stretched on the cross. No matter how I moved, I couldn’t escape the tension, it was always in me. I heaved myself up, I squeezed my leg-muscles forcibly, trying to ease the terrible strain on my upper body. But the ropes would not help me, they held me so that I suffered. Oh and how I suffered! Again and again I groaned.

Dorothea looked up from her computer and watched me. She said nothing, she only looked. "Oh," I groaned. "Ahhh!" It hurt. Pain was flooding me, it was a flood in slow motion. Very slowly he came up and flooded my entire body, he filled me completely. I gasped erratically. I stretched myself up, arched my back, so that my naked butt lost contact with the upright. I wriggled slowly in my agony. "Oh! Ahh! Oooo!" I moaned asI squirmed. I can’t stand it any longer! I really can’t stand it any longer! No! I must get down from the cross! I can’t!

I tensed every muscle in the fight against the bonds that held me on the cross, they gave me no release. I fought against the cross and against pain. I was squirming, I was trembling, I was sweating, thin rivulets were streaming down my naked body. My body was writhing without my help, I no longer had it under control, it danced, it perspired, it quivered, it squirmed, it gasped and groaned. I was pain, pure fiery pain. I had no will. I just wanted it to end.

It did not end, it went on, endlessly. My moans grew louder, I was gasping more and more frequently, my breathing was irregular. I want to be free, please! I want to be free! Oh let me free! I can’t. I'm only a girl! You have conquered me, please let me be! Please !!! Help me! Untie me!

But I said nothing, only in my mind did I plead, only in my head was my inner voice begging for liberation from the cruel torture. My mouth was now and then a moan, it opened itself for a gasp, but it uttered not a word, not one. I was still dancing on the cross as hard as ever, sweat was streaming down my naked skin, I was gasping loudly, I was writhing. Oh it was unbearable, it was ....

Dorothea stood down below me and looked up. Doro! Is it time? Let me down! Come on, do it! Release me at last! I can’t! I groaned loudly, slumped in my bonds, only to rear up again frantically. I couldn’t stop squirming. Dorothea looked up at me.

Then it ended. The chain clicked softly, the cross descended. Oh, how grateful I was, all of a sudden. The torment was over. Over and out! Had my cousin asked me, I’d have kissed her feet, I’d have done it on the spot without hesitation, thank you, Dorothea, thank you!

She untied my bonds. "You're sweating a bit!" "Gallons," I gasped., my voice was hoarse, "that was really hard." She helped me up. My arms felt like knotty wood, I was trembling. "Come with me." Doro put an arm around me and supported me. She led me to the carpet under the stretching frame. Gently she laid me down., She ran away and soon came back with a soft blanket. She covered me up, lay down next to me under the cover and took me in her arms.

"By all the gods of Olympus…" I whispered. I felt infinitely weak, totally worn out, like I’d run a marathon. And just like I’d feel after such a crazy run, I felt euphoria – I’d done it, I’d done it for the second time... twice in one day, an hour on the cross, I, Lisette Lange, had done it. I was proud, proud of my performance, proud of my pain, I loved them both.

 

[Eulalia]

12 Tied up with living vines

After I had rested a little, we went into the house. I took a long shower, I had sweated mightily. Meanwhile Dorothea made a big bowl of mixed salad, with ingredients she'd culled from the garden. When Aunt Annie came home, the dinner was on the table. After the salad, it was fried eggs with chives and bacon röstis.

"That tastes good," Aunt Annie praised her haute cuisine. I did too, I was hungry after my second session on the cross. "What have you two been up to today?" asked my aunt. "Oh .... everything," Dorothy said, "I tied up Lisette naked in Grandpa's workshop and tortured her. I beat her with a stick and a wooden spoon. Tomorrow I’m going to tie her up naked on the cross that’s standing against the wall and throw darts at her." I was left with the food stuck in my throat, I had the feeling that my head would explode, just explode. What had Dorothea said?! She’s gone crazy!!!

"Aha," said Aunt Annie, "I see. And why not lash her with a real leather whip?" "Because there isn’t one," was Dorothea’s quick-witted retort, "I’ve had to order one on the Internet. I’m getting a gag too, because Lisette went haywire when I was tanning her hide. We’re still waiting for that stuff." "How about household torture?" asked Aunt Annie, "I’ve got those curlers made of chromed steel. They’ve got little sharp tips, if you threaded them on the handle of a wooden spoon, they’d make a very special kind of rolling pin, you could roll it across the back and buttocks of the delinquent – over the soles of her feet too, only tickling torture is worse than that." Dorothea's eyes lit up, "Mummy! You give such top tips! I'll do just that tomorrow!" BOOM. Thats it, my head's exploded, exploded completely. By all the gods of Olympus! Doro, you lunatic!!!

Aunt Annie laughed. "How nice that you are torturing your cousin so thoughtfully!" She shook her head, "And what have you really been doing?" "We went around the village on the track, dipped in the pond. I’ve taken lots of sexy pictures of aquatic life. Unfortunately, I can’t photograph any infusoria with the macro, I need to buy myself a microscope, one with a connection to my computer. Mosquito larvae, daphnia, cyclops, mussel larvae, hydras, bryozoans and nematodes in the detritus. They’d be be great photo opportunities. I could put together a photo album on the internet, my own first book of natural history, “Dorothea Flörke: Small Aquatic Creatures in Streams and Ponds around Spuhl." - sounds cool!" "Then do it," urged Aunt Annie.

I collected the scattered pieces of my exploded head, and glued them together bit by bit. Once I was done, I'd kill Dorothea. But first I’d torture her. Then burn her alive. Then quarter her, shoot her, flay her. Only then would I kill her, zap, dead!

"You're so quiet, Lisette," said Aunt Annie. "Oh it's nothing," Dorothea chattered merrily on, "just a bit exhausted from the strenuous bondage and flogging. You should see her back! All covered in purple weals, Mummy."

I'll flog you three times in a row. I’ll torture you with red-hot pincers and I’ll throw you to the wild animals! Then I'll kill you again, then I’ll bring you again for more!!!

Aunt Annie laughed. "There’s a documentary this evening about the ancient Romans. Do we want to watch it together? I'll buy a bottle of wine." Dorothea looked at me in all innocence. "As you see, Lisette, in the Flörke household we children are brought to heel with drugs."

You're dead, you joker! You court jester! I’ll drown you in lukewarm Roman wine, I'll shoot you with frozen crocodile teeth fired from a cannon! Did the Romans have guns? No, gunpowder was invented by a monk. Crap! No guns! But catapults. Fine! I’ll tie Doro on a block of stone and attack the next fortress with her.

The documentary was great. Really well done with interviews, footage of excavations and great computer animation. It showd an original replica of a Roman patrol boat rowed by slaves, a sort of miniature galley. I’ll send Doro onto that galley, chained to the rowing bench, and when she doesn’t paddle hard, I’ll lay the whip on the bare back!

"Are you mad?" I asked my cousin in a whisper, as we lay in bed late that night. "I can’t believe you could trumpet all that in front of your mother!" Dorothea giggled. "As you saw, she didn’t believe it. Truth is the best camouflage – g‘night love!"

I signed her death sentence. Dorothea Flörke, to be hung and flayed and shot and drowned until dead, in just punishment for causing her poor cousin Lisette to die a thousand deaths at the dinner table. At the very end, I made up my mind, I’ll let hyenas eat her alive, their laughter is always so horny while they’re eating. Cooooooooooool!!

 

[thehangingtree]

Nice twist, Eul. I used to say the same to my mom when I did something I shouldn't have. Tell the truth and she wouldn't believe me...

...but somehow I think Aunt Annie is not that innocent!!!

Tree

 

[Eulalia]

The next day came, and hardly had Aunt Annie driven off in her car than we were both off to the workshop. I stripped naked as if it were the most normal thing in the world. It was no different from when I undressed to take a shower, I just did it. Naked, I stood beside the cross. I wanted to put myself on it, but Dorothea stopped me, "Wait!" I stayed where I was. “An hour, what’s that?" she asked, "Be honest. You want to get used to it before the holidays are over, you want to learn the true agonies of crucifixion, don’t you, Lisette? Isn’t that what you want, doesn’t it call you? To taste it fully, completely, or rather, to be made to taste it – that’s how it is, or…?" I nodded silently, I couldn’t speak, there was a lump in my throat, I’d turned beetroot red. Oh yes, I wanted to taste it!

My cousin looked at me: "One and a half hours, Lisette?" Her dark blue eyes were deep pools in which I was drowning as she looked at me. I looked back silently, my heart was pounding. One and a half hours, fifty percent more than yesterday. But if I really wanted to get there, I had to increase the cross time, and I had to do it quickly enough, so the holidays wouldn’t be over before I .... what? What shall I achieve? What did I want to achieve? Eight hours, Lisette, the little voice said in my head. Other people go to work for eight hours a day, and you should go for eight hours on the cross. Eight hours for your super goal, Lisette, that’s the maximum score, eight hours. If you want to succeed, you’ll need to run!

Without a word I went to the Cross. I lay down with my back on the wood, I set my feet on the pedestal and spread out my arms. Dorothea was standing beside the cross, looking down at me., her eyes wide. Come on, Doro, I thought, bind me tight, go ahead, I’m willing, more than ready. I think it’s right, I can stand it, one and a half hours. Let me suffer that, I want it that way. Dorothea was looking at me silently, an indefinable expression in her eyes. Suddenly she bent down, she grasped my face with her hands and kissed me, "You're incredible, Lisette, you know that? Simply unbelievable!" She started to tie me to the cross. I held reverently silent and enjoyed my subjection, feeling full of joy as I was rendered piece by piece defenceless. Nude and tied up, spread on the wood. Already the chain was clicking, I was beginning to rise up. One and a half hours. A whole hour - just like I’d had twice yesterday - and a half as long again to. That’ll makes a whole hour longer on the cross today, Lisette Lange, a total of three hours today, fifty percent more.

So many feelings were inside me, so many thoughts were going through my head. Being crucified was now almost normal for me. That alone was incredible. Lisette, what would you have felt six months ago, if someone had said you’d be crucified time after time, day after day? I wouldn’t have believed it, I replied in thought, I’d never have dreamt it. Oh God, I’m so happy! I love it, I want it, it felt normal to be crucified, yet each time it was different. I was excited like I’d never been before, right from the preliminary bondage. It was new and exciting every time, thrilling, a very erotic experience for me. I could no longer deny that I was a masochist. I loved it when she handcuffed me and inflicted pain on me. I was already looking forward to the ‘intermediate treatment’, to whatever my cousin would do with me between the two crucifixions of the day.

The Cross touched the stop, Dorothea bent down and locked the safety bar. It was strange, she binds me, makes me defenceless,sets me up to hang helpless on the cross in agony. She dominates me, she has absolute power over me. But yet she’s basically nothing more than my servant! She serves me! She does what I want, binds me, hauls me up, secures me. I heaved myself up on the cross - what a feeling! I was naked and helpless, tied on the cross. I was humiliated, yet I was raised up, I stood above Dorothea. Unbelievable! Just incredible! The feeling made me mad.

I began to loll on the cross. It pleased me exceedingly, it felt so good to be tied up. Even the prospect of pain was pleasing. I expected it like a good meal in a restaurant. When it came, I would welcome it. One and a half hours. When I would make two? Today? No. Don’t rush, Lisette. But maybe tomorrow .... Would I ask Dorothea? Or would my personal trainer suggest it? I liked both versions, Lisette who begged humbly for more, and Lisette who humbly accepted the proposal of her trainer. Humility. Submission. Humiliation. Beatings. Pain. All that feels wonderful. But the cross is longer, and it’s pure eroticism too. I felt rising excitement in me, the longer I was on the cross-bar.

If I were planted ....Planted. Be planted. Be planted. The girls are planted. The girls are to be planted, to be crucified .... Another nocturnal dream .... A normal school, well .... almost.... It was not the glorious strict school from the previous dream, it was a biological institute of some sort. I’d dreamed about it after we’d discussed in school about the pros and cons of the use of genetic engineering in crops. We’d seen a movie in which there was talk of tomatoes that could be engineered with fish genes to be resistant to frost, and wheat that would put off pests by its smell. In the dream we were living in a strange school, a two-storey wooden building in a weird, wild area in the middle of a large forest. Around the school, the forest had been cleared and behind the walls we bred plants of all kinds. By means of some kind of magical genetic engineering we changed all sorts of crops, but also weeds and wild plants. From a climbing plant whose foliage looked like small ivy leaves, we created a variant that was mobile, it could move about slowly and you could make a sort of fabric with it. With small suckers it held on to human skin, special tendrils sucked even the smallest amounts of sweat and other body moisture from the skin, that’s how the plant got nourishment. You could hang it on the wall and leave it there for a few days, and then take it down and put it on, so it could feed on its host. There were side effect, the tiny rootlets of the plant, while they fed on a human, injected special substances into the skin of their host. This had very positive effects - they stabilized the blood pressure, ensured a clear skin, and improved the general condition of the wearer.

As is often the case with such dreams, the scenario changed and suddenly the two-storey building, became the strict school, now in the forest. As usual, we girls were constantly tied up and bound to the most varied types of restraint. With one important difference – here we were 'planted' during the bondage! One of the most exciting scenes in the dream was when I was led naked to the cross. The teacher in control gave the order, "The girl is to be planted for her crucifixion!" then they laid these tendrils on me, several vines combined into a kind of cord and put around my breasts, like I was wearing a vegetable bikini top – and they made a bikini bottom too! A belt made of living vines, and a small triangle of shoots that was tucked between my legs, round and up through the crack of my anus to join the vegetable belt. Then I was, as usual, tied and exposed on Cross. The tendrils sucked onto me, they clung tightly around my breasts, and stretched out little side tendrils that proliferated around my nipples and twined over them. As soon as the plants had reached them, the small funnels turned downwards and began to suck. What a delicious feeling it provoked in my breasts, this tight wrapping around my breasts excited me beyond measure! Yet still more exciting things were going on lower down, the vines between my legs stretched their side-tendrils into my groove and deep inside me. They stuck their suckers up in there firmly and remained constantly busy, sucking away at my grateful moisture.

I was dying of excitement on the cross. I stretched myself constantly, I was squirming in pleasure. The touch of the tendrils was the most exciting thing I’d ever experienced. The vines were combined with the cross, it was suddenly alive. Although it had the form of a normal cross, it was living wood, and the tendrils supplied it with nutrients. My tender, bare feet were beginning to tingle sensitively when small rhizomes from the foot-rest began to push up and gently penetrate through my feet, into my feet. They drilled, completely without pain, into my skin, and sucked out my bodily secretions. I was feeding the plants on the cross and the plants were rewarding me with erotic pleasure, letting me moan in ecstasy.

Other girls were hanging on crosses and writhing in pleasure. Anja Haug was hung right next to me, I watched as she sank, as she worked on the cross, as she reared up. I heard her gasp and moan, her whimpering excited me, as much as the plants that were sucking me. Only if they covered a girl and could suck on her would the tendrils initiated the formation of special nutrients in the living crosses. These were extracted from the wood of the crosses as a liquid resin, which our teachers and researchers processed into very special medications. They constantly had some girls hanging on the crosses to nourish the plants, so as to yield the coveted ingredients for the drugs. Some of us wore the vines during the lessons, so that they would be nicely pulpy even before we went to the cross, then more of the precious liquid was produced from the cross-tree. But for a girl who was wearing these plants on her body, it was extremely difficult to follow the lessons, really extremely difficult!

For days, I ordered this brilliant dream to go through my mind and fantasised it through again and again. It was nice to imagine being crucified naked while moving plants were groping my breasts, sucking on my nipples and in the furrow between my legs, where more vines invaded and conquered there, pressing and sucking. I found it very sad that there no such plants existed, I would have volunteered every day for feeding such plants. For purely medicinal purposes, of course, I’d be doing it to help sick people, wouldn’t I?

 

[Barbaria1]

The next day came, and hardly had Aunt Annie driven off in her car than we were both off to the workshop. I stripped naked as if it were the most normal thing in the world. It was no different from when I undressed to take a shower, I just did it. Naked, I stood beside the cross. I wanted to put myself on it, but Dorothea stopped me, "Wait!" I stayed where I was. “An hour, what’s that?" she asked, "Be honest. You want to get used to it before the holidays are over, you want to learn the true agonies of crucifixion, don’t you, Lisette? Isn’t that what you want, doesn’t it call you? To taste it fully, completely, or rather, to be made to taste it – that’s how it is, or…?" I nodded silently, I couldn’t speak, there was a lump in my throat, I’d turned beetroot red. Oh yes, I wanted to taste it!

My cousin looked at me: "One and a half hours, Lisette?" Her dark blue eyes were deep pools in which I was drowning as she looked at me. I looked back silently, my heart was pounding. One and a half hours, fifty percent more than yesterday. But if I really wanted to get there, I had to increase the cross time, and I had to do it quickly enough, so the holidays wouldn’t be over before I .... what? What shall I achieve? What did I want to achieve? Eight hours, Lisette, the little voice said in my head. Other people go to work for eight hours a day, and you should go for eight hours on the cross. Eight hours for your super goal, Lisette, that’s the maximum score, eight hours. If you want to succeed, you’ll need to run!

Without a word I went to the Cross. I lay down with my back on the wood, I set my feet on the pedestal and spread out my arms. Dorothea was standing beside the cross, looking down at me., her eyes wide. Come on, Doro, I thought, bind me tight, go ahead, I’m willing, more than ready. I think it’s right, I can stand it, one and a half hours. Let me suffer that, I want it that way. Dorothea was looking at me silently, an indefinable expression in her eyes. Suddenly she bent down, she grasped my face with her hands and kissed me, "You're incredible, Lisette, you know that? Simply unbelievable!" She started to tie me to the cross. I held reverently silent and enjoyed my subjection, feeling full of joy as I was rendered piece by piece defenceless. Nude and tied up, spread on the wood. Already the chain was clicking, I was beginning to rise up. One and a half hours. A whole hour - just like I’d had twice yesterday - and a half as long again to. That’ll makes a whole hour longer on the cross today, Lisette Lange, a total of three hours today, fifty percent more.

So many feelings were inside me, so many thoughts were going through my head. Being crucified was now almost normal for me. That alone was incredible. Lisette, what would you have felt six months ago, if someone had said you’d be crucified time after time, day after day? I wouldn’t have believed it, I replied in thought, I’d never have dreamt it. Oh God, I’m so happy! I love it, I want it, it felt normal to be crucified, yet each time it was different. I was excited like I’d never been before, right from the preliminary bondage. It was new and exciting every time, thrilling, a very erotic experience for me. I could no longer deny that I was a masochist. I loved it when she handcuffed me and inflicted pain on me. I was already looking forward to the ‘intermediate treatment’, to whatever my cousin would do with me between the two crucifixions of the day.

The Cross touched the stop, Dorothea bent down and locked the safety bar. It was strange, she binds me, makes me defenceless,sets me up to hang helpless on the cross in agony. She dominates me, she has absolute power over me. But yet she’s basically nothing more than my servant! She serves me! She does what I want, binds me, hauls me up, secures me. I heaved myself up on the cross - what a feeling! I was naked and helpless, tied on the cross. I was humiliated, yet I was raised up, I stood above Dorothea. Unbelievable! Just incredible! The feeling made me mad.

I began to loll on the cross. It pleased me exceedingly, it felt so good to be tied up. Even the prospect of pain was pleasing. I expected it like a good meal in a restaurant. When it came, I would welcome it. One and a half hours. When I would make two? Today? No. Don’t rush, Lisette. But maybe tomorrow .... Would I ask Dorothea? Or would my personal trainer suggest it? I liked both versions, Lisette who begged humbly for more, and Lisette who humbly accepted the proposal of her trainer. Humility. Submission. Humiliation. Beatings. Pain. All that feels wonderful. But the cross is longer, and it’s pure eroticism too. I felt rising excitement in me, the longer I was on the cross-bar.

If I were planted ....Planted. Be planted. Be planted. The girls are planted. The girls are to be planted, to be crucified .... Another nocturnal dream .... A normal school, well .... almost.... It was not the glorious strict school from the previous dream, it was a biological institute of some sort. I’d dreamed about it after we’d discussed in school about the pros and cons of the use of genetic engineering in crops. We’d seen a movie in which there was talk of tomatoes that could be engineered with fish genes to be resistant to frost, and wheat that would put off pests by its smell. In the dream we were living in a strange school, a two-storey wooden building in a weird, wild area in the middle of a large forest. Around the school, the forest had been cleared and behind the walls we bred plants of all kinds. By means of some kind of magical genetic engineering we changed all sorts of crops, but also weeds and wild plants. From a climbing plant whose foliage looked like small ivy leaves, we created a variant that was mobile, it could move about slowly and you could make a sort of fabric with it. With small suckers it held on to human skin, special tendrils sucked even the smallest amounts of sweat and other body moisture from the skin, that’s how the plant got nourishment. You could hang it on the wall and leave it there for a few days, and then take it down and put it on, so it could feed on its host. There were side effect, the tiny rootlets of the plant, while they fed on a human, injected special substances into the skin of their host. This had very positive effects - they stabilized the blood pressure, ensured a clear skin, and improved the general condition of the wearer.

As is often the case with such dreams, the scenario changed and suddenly the two-storey building, became the strict school, now in the forest. As usual, we girls were constantly tied up and bound to the most varied types of restraint. With one important difference – here we were 'planted' during the bondage! One of the most exciting scenes in the dream was when I was led naked to the cross. The teacher in control gave the order, "The girl is to be planted for her crucifixion!" then they laid these tendrils on me, several vines combined into a kind of cord and put around my breasts, like I was wearing a vegetable bikini top – and they made a bikini bottom too! A belt made of living vines, and a small triangle of shoots that was tucked between my legs, round and up through the crack of my anus to join the vegetable belt. Then I was, as usual, tied and exposed on Cross. The tendrils sucked onto me, they clung tightly around my breasts, and stretched out little side tendrils that proliferated around my nipples and twined over them. As soon as the plants had reached them, the small funnels turned downwards and began to suck. What a delicious feeling it provoked in my breasts, this tight wrapping around my breasts excited me beyond measure! Yet still more exciting things were going on lower down, the vines between my legs stretched their side-tendrils into my groove and deep inside me. They stuck their suckers up in there firmly and remained constantly busy, sucking away at my grateful moisture.

I was dying of excitement on the cross. I stretched myself constantly, I was squirming in pleasure. The touch of the tendrils was the most exciting thing I’d ever experienced. The vines were combined with the cross, it was suddenly alive. Although it had the form of a normal cross, it was living wood, and the tendrils supplied it with nutrients. My tender, bare feet were beginning to tingle sensitively when small rhizomes from the foot-rest began to push up and gently penetrate through my feet, into my feet. They drilled, completely without pain, into my skin, and sucked out my bodily secretions. I was feeding the plants on the cross and the plants were rewarding me with erotic pleasure, letting me moan in ecstasy.

Other girls were hanging on crosses and writhing in pleasure. Anja Haug was hung right next to me, I watched as she sank, as she worked on the cross, as she reared up. I heard her gasp and moan, her whimpering excited me, as much as the plants that were sucking me. Only if they covered a girl and could suck on her would the tendrils initiated the formation of special nutrients in the living crosses. These were extracted from the wood of the crosses as a liquid resin, which our teachers and researchers processed into very special medications. They constantly had some girls hanging on the crosses to nourish the plants, so as to yield the coveted ingredients for the drugs. Some of us wore the vines during the lessons, so that they would be nicely pulpy even before we went to the cross, then more of the precious liquid was produced from the cross-tree. But for a girl who was wearing these plants on her body, it was extremely difficult to follow the lessons, really extremely difficult!

For days, I ordered this brilliant dream to go through my mind and fantasised it through again and again. It was nice to imagine being crucified naked while moving plants were groping my breasts, sucking on my nipples and in the furrow between my legs, where more vines invaded and conquered there, pressing and sucking. I found it very sad that there no such plants existed, I would have volunteered every day for feeding such plants. For purely medicinal purposes, of course, I’d be doing it to help sick people, wouldn’t I?

Vegetation Crux....I love it

 

[Wragg]

I've said it before...I just love it when they spread themselves out on the cross