Is that like the joke about the 6 foot grand with a 6 inch pianist?I expect when Tree sees this he will think you are accusing him on being against violinists
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Marcella Gets Tagged
- Thread starter thehangingtree
- Start date
It's a Madame Wu Blunt...I'm sure I've seen a film in Anthropology class about the Masaii of Yorkshire.
That's a bit more than a Madam Wu, there. Now that you're out of the USA, you got into the Havanas? Messa must have had those. Tree, being a solid, anti-Fidel guy would never have those cigars lying around, would he?
Really, Jolly, this topic has come up before... Don't tell me you have no brain in that skull of yours...
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Oh, it's wonderful ! They sound like little rings when I dont wear a "petite culotte" (panthy)
I'll bet when you walk you make sure those tags play a melody!!!Oh, it's wonderful ! They sound like little rings when I dont wear a "petite culotte" (panthy)
Despite the freedom this tag gives me it still reminds me I have a finite amount of time to get affairs in order. When I fly back to the US when I get to Customs I show them my passport and lift my skirt to show my tag. I don’t think they even had a dog sniff my luggage much less look through it. I had to go through TSA security and my tag set off the metal detector like I was carrying a machine gun. I lifted my skirt and showed my tag and was waved right through even though I really wanted a full ‘pat down’ frisk (the guy was cute; what can I say).
My boyfriend was a bit taken back when I showed the tag. It is a funny thing; I could see how I could want a long-term relationship with him but he never seemed to want to discuss it. After he got over the surprise that in less than six months that the length of our relationship would be a moot point, our relationship got quite passionate.
In fact, as there was no reason for inhibitions, sex became very interesting as he embraced I was his condemned cunt.
My sister even got in the act. She took me shopping but collared me, made me lock my wrists and ankles in iron shackles and manacles, and made me expose my breasts as we walked and shopped and if anyone came up to us she would order “Show him your tag, you cunt!”
It was humiliating only to point that it reinforced the reality of what I am; a woman condemned to the cross for no reason beyond the ritual itself!
-Marcella
Tree
My boyfriend was a bit taken back when I showed the tag. It is a funny thing; I could see how I could want a long-term relationship with him but he never seemed to want to discuss it. After he got over the surprise that in less than six months that the length of our relationship would be a moot point, our relationship got quite passionate.
In fact, as there was no reason for inhibitions, sex became very interesting as he embraced I was his condemned cunt.
My sister even got in the act. She took me shopping but collared me, made me lock my wrists and ankles in iron shackles and manacles, and made me expose my breasts as we walked and shopped and if anyone came up to us she would order “Show him your tag, you cunt!”
It was humiliating only to point that it reinforced the reality of what I am; a woman condemned to the cross for no reason beyond the ritual itself!
-Marcella
Tree
Lest you think I forgot about this thread, Marcella has been busy doing a photo shoot for the Nailus Martyrs spring catalog.
Damn, she's the cover girl!!!
Tree
Damn, she's the cover girl!!!
Tree
messaline
Crucified Amazon
There, you're right, Marcella : I was condemned for having killed my husband , and it was true (at least, I thought) , but at this time, you were not yet averred guilty without reason !
Things have actually changed in CF ...
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Cella
Spectator
Marcella's musings on her reality:
The reality of what I am? I’m a condemned cunt! That’s my reality!
It started off very painful and scary having that tag attached to my pussy. I was so traumatized by the experience! I was legally raped by that horrible henchman of the equally horrible Mr. Tree. I was sent home violated, bleeding and crying in pain. That huge tag was so heavy and pulled so badly on my flesh. Though my piercing healed, I still can’t wear pants, or even undies! There’s no place to put that fucking tag. It’s too large and inflexible. It’s just skirts and dresses for me now if I’m going out. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Just stick it up your pussy Marcella! Yeah, right. You try that if you happen to have a vagina.
I’m in a real down mood right now. Even the thrill of being the on the cover of Nailus Martyrs magazine has worn off. I went from utter terror after being tagged to a grim acceptance of my fate as a “condemned cunt.” Then I met Barb and Messaline, two other girls who will be crucified with me on the solstice a few months from now. We have our own little club. It seems condemned cunts can capitalize on their celebrity once they’ve been outed, as it were.
Barb is a shameless pussy flasher in her short skirts that give ample opportunity to show off her tag. Messa too, in her own way, but with a certain European flair. Me, well, I’m kind of shy about it. When I’m alone with Barb and Messa I can relax. But in public I just can’t be too brazen about flashing my tag.
Barb says that’s just my way of teasing the public. Playing the innocent little virgin tagged for crucifixion. Well, I’m no virgin – not for a long while now. But I am innocent dammit! I have never found out why I was tagged for crucifixion. Why, dammit? I’m resigned to dying on a cross, nailed up naked and exposed, but why? Why?
Do people I pass on the street know I’m a condemned cunt? It’s not like I have a scarlet C on my forehead or anything. Yet, when I walk down the street feeling that tag (my tag!) bouncing between by thighs, tugging on my pussy lip, I wonder if they know? (And to be honest, feeling it there does give me a bit of a thrill.) I know lots of guys give me the eye, look me up and down as they pass by. Hey, I’m not gorgeous, but pretty enough to attract my share of attention. I’m slender, kind of leggy, and fill out a blouse or t-shirt pretty well, thank you very much! But when guys look at me now, do they know I’m a condemned cunt? Do they know I have this tag between my legs that marks me for crucifixion in a few months? It seems, in my mind, that they do as I stare back at them. I’m sure they see me naked and stretched out on a cross with my legs spread apart to expose my pussy and my breasts bobbling like crazy as I twist and writhe in agony. Oh god! It's horrifying, yet it makes me insatiably horny to think about it!
My boyfriend, Sven, was really turned on by my tag from the first. He wasn’t too goddamned concerned that I was going to be crucified, though! What an asshole! But he was sure excited about having a “condemned cunt” as a girlfriend. He said sex with me was more awesome than ever. Why should that be? Is banging me with a tag on my pussy any different for Sven than before I was tagged. I’m still the same person. Sven’s always been a great fuck, but I’m really pissed about how my impending execution has excited him so. Is screwing a condemned woman that much of a turn-on? Should I be insulted or glad? I don’t know. I’m just living in the moment now. One moment terrified, the next elated. What the fuck is going on with me?
Sven prefers sex doggie-style now. He says it’s a huge turn-on to feel my dangling tag bouncing off his balls when he’s fucking me from behind. (Sometimes I wonder if he would even find me attractive any longer if I didn’t have this tag.) Me? Well, I get some awesome orgasms, but I always preferred to be on top. I had more control and Sven could pay special attention to my boobs. He has such good hands! But my tag gets in the way too much with me on top. He says it pokes him and it hurts. Oh, poor baby! A little poke and he’s whining. I remind him I’m soon to be crucified and he should shut the fuck up and act like a man! Missionary sex is out too. Same problem. That tag just gets in the way. For both if us.
I don’t work anymore. Just don’t see why. Earn money for what? I’ll be dead soon; it’s a certainty. Besides, how can I focus on work knowing what awaits me. All the office relationships and bitchy small talk seem so pointless and worthless now. When you’re condemned to death your mind focuses on other things.
My family doesn’t know yet. Well, my older sister knows, and seems to take pleasure in humiliating me about it! Why? I went to her for comfort and she seems to want to be a part of the whole terrible process. She claims she trying to help me deal with it, but I don’t know.
How can I tell my parents that their daughter is condemned to death by crucifixion? I would never want them to see me crucified. Too awful to think about. But, would they think I was actually guilty of something? Oh god, I hope not! I was never in trouble growing up. Always a good girl. And my siblings? How would my younger sister handle knowing her big sis would soon be executed, and in such a horrible manner? She’s a sophomore at the Tampa Institute of Technology (go Big Nips!). It would devastate her. We were so close growing up. My brother, on the other hand, is a question mark. He’s a bit of a pervert. A year older than I, he would use any excuse to try grabbing at my tits and ass when we were teenagers. He’d even sneak into my room at night. I’d wake up and see him standing by my bed, just staring at me. Once I even caught him jerking off! How many other times was he there masturbating and I didn’t know it? I always harbored a secret fear that he’d love to fuck me! And worse, that he’d try some day. I tried to tell mom and dad about him, but he was their only son. They would have none of it. I was just making up stories and being a brat, they said. He could do no wrong in their eyes. I suspect he’d come to my crucifixion for sure. I mean, here’s a chance to see his sister naked and exposed, unable to protect myself. The asshole would probably buy tickets for all his asshole friends, too!
Oh shit! Maybe my parents would think I deserved it! After all, they thought I was making up shit about my pervert of a brother.
But now I’m alone more. Sven isn’t here. Don’t know what’s up with him. I know Barb and Messa are out clubbing. They seem to be making the most of their remaining time. But me, I’m just lying naked in bed at home, my heart pounding as I think about my future. I don’t bother wearing clothes anymore at home. Why bother?
What will it be like to be nailed to a cross? How will I handle the humiliation, and the pain? My hand slips between my thighs and I tug on my tag. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. I'm so wet! My finger finds my hard little bean, and begins stroking. Oh shit!!!! It makes me sooooo fucking horny and so fucking scared!
Last edited:
Wow, Marcella!!! When you add you add big time!!!Marcella's musings on her reality:
The reality of what I am? I’m a condemned cunt! That’s my reality!
It started off very painful and scary having that tag attached to my pussy. I was so traumatized by the experience! I was legally raped by that horrible henchman of the equally horrible Mr. Tree. I was sent home violated, bleeding and crying in pain. That huge tag was so heavy and pulled so badly on my flesh. Though my piercing healed, I still can’t wear pants, or even undies! There’s no place to put that fucking tag. It’s too large and inflexible. It’s just skirts and dresses for me now if I’m going out. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Just stick it up your pussy Marcella! Yeah, right. You try that if you happen to have a vagina.
I’m in a real down mood right now. Even the thrill of being the on the cover of Nailus Martyrs magazine has worn off. I went from utter terror after being tagged to a grim acceptance of my fate as a “condemned cunt.” Then I met Barb and Messaline, two other girls who will be crucified with me on the solstice a few months from now. We have our own little club. It seems condemned cunts can capitalize on their celebrity once they’ve been outed, as it were.
Barb is a shameless pussy flasher in her short skirts that give ample opportunity to show off her tag. Messa too, in her own way, but with a certain European flair. Me, well, I’m kind of shy about it. When I’m alone with Barb and Messa I can relax. But in public I just can’t be too brazen about flashing my tag.
Barb says that’s just my way of teasing the public. Playing the innocent little virgin tagged for crucifixion. Well, I’m no virgin – not for a long while now. But I am innocent dammit! I have never found out why I was tagged for crucifixion. Why, dammit? I’m resigned to dying on a cross, nailed up naked and exposed, but why? Why?
Do people I pass on the street know I’m a condemned cunt? It’s not like I have a scarlet C on my forehead or anything. Yet, when I walk down the street feeling that tag (my tag!) bouncing between by thighs, tugging on my pussy lip, I wonder if they know? (And to e honest, feeling it there does give me a bit of a thrill.) I know lots of guys give the eye, look me up and down as they pass by. Hey, I’m not gorgeous, but pretty enough to attract my share of attention. I’m slender, kind of leggy, and fill out a blouse or t-shirt pretty well, thank you very much! But when guys look at me now, do they know I’m a condemned cunt? Do they know I have this tag between my legs that marks me for crucifixion in a few months? It seems, in my mind, that they do as I stare back at them. I’m sure they see me naked and stretched out on a cross with my legs spread apart to expose my pussy and my breasts bobbling like crazy as I twist and writhe in agony. Oh god! It's horrifying, yet it makes me insatiably horny to think about it!
My boyfriend, Sven, was really turned on by my tag from the first. He wasn’t too goddamned concerned that I was going to be crucified, though! What an asshole! But he was sure excited about having a “condemned cunt” as a girlfriend. He said sex with me was more awesome than ever. Why should that be? Is banging me with a tag on my pussy any different for Sven than before I was tagged. I’m still the same person. Sven’s always been a great fuck, but I’m really pissed about how my impending execution has excited him so. Is screwing a condemned woman that much of a turn-on? Should I be insulted or glad? I don’t know. I’m just living in the moment now. One moment terrified, the next elated. What the fuck is going on with me?
Sven prefers sex doggie style now. He says it’s a huge turn-on to feel my dangling tag bouncing off his balls when he’s fucking me from behind. (Sometimes I wonder if he would even find me attractive any longer if I didn’t have this tag.) Me? Well, I get some awesome orgasms, but I always preferred to be on top. I had more control and Sven could pay special attention to my boobs. He has such good hands! But my tag gets in the way too much with me on top. He says it pokes him and it hurts. Oh, poor baby! A little poke and he’s whining. I remind him I’m soon to be crucified and he should shut the fuck up and act like a man! Missionary sex is out too. Same problem. That tag just gets in the way. For both if us.
I don’t work anymore. Just don’t see why. Earn money for what? I’ll be dead soon; it’s a certainty. Besides, how can I focus on work knowing what awaits me. All the office relationships and bitchy small talk seem so pointless and worthless now. When you’re condemned to death your mind focuses on other things.
My family doesn’t know yet. Well, my older sister knows, and seems to take pleasure in humiliating me about it! Why? I went to her for comfort and she seems to want to be a part of the whole terrible process. She claims she trying to help me deal with it, but I don’t know.
How can I tell my parents that their daughter is condemned to death by crucifixion? I would never want them to see me crucified. Too awful to think about. But, would they think I was actually guilty of something? Oh god, I hope not! I was never in trouble growing up. Always a good girl. And my siblings? How would my younger sister handle knowing her big sis would soon be executed, and in such a horrible manner? She’s a sophomore at the Tampa Institute of Technology (go Big Nips!). It would devastate her. We were so close growing up. My brother, on the other hand, is a question mark. He’s a bit of a pervert. A year older than I, he would use any excuse to try grabbing at my tits and ass when we were teenagers. He’d even sneak into my room at night. I’d wake up and see him standing by my bed, just staring at me. Once I even caught him jerking off! How many other times was he there masturbating and I didn’t know it? I always harbored a secret fear that he’d love to fuck me! And worse, that he’d try some day. I tried to tell mom and dad about him, but he was their only son. They would have none of it. I was just making up stories and being a brat, they said. He could do no wrong in their eyes. I suspect he’d come to my crucifixion for sure. I mean, here’s a chance to see his sister naked and exposed, unable to protect myself. The asshole would probably buy tickets for all his asshole friends, too!
Oh shit! Maybe my parents would think I deserved it! After all, they thought I was making up shit about my pervert of a brother.
But now I’m alone more. Sven isn’t here. Don’t know what’s up with him. I know Barb and Messa are out clubbing. They seem to be making the most of their remaining time. But me, I’m just lying naked in bed at home, my heart pounding as I think about my future. I don’t bother wearing clothes anymore at home. Why bother?
What will it be like to be nailed to a cross? How will I handle the humiliation, and the pain? My hand slips between my thighs and I tug on my tag. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. I'm so wet! My finger finds my hard little bean, and begins stroking. Oh shit!!!! It makes me sooooo fucking horny and so fucking scared!
Tree
Cella
Spectator
You've made this thread so much fun to fantasize about!
I just want everyone to know how I feel about being a tagged condemned cunt.
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Hum, Tree, I think that it's time to give some Mrs Woo'cigarettes to Marcella : they could calm her ...
Of course, Marcella ! What could we do
Join us !!!
Attachments
Cella
Spectator
Marcella has a bad night, one of many:
Another night. Can’t sleep. Dreams. Bad dreams? Or good dreams? I don’t know. But I woke all twisted up in my sheet. It’s almost like a shroud. Oh shit! What does that mean? I’m sweaty, nervous, and my heart is pounding. A faint nighttime glow diffuses through the curtains. The moon, streetlights, whatever.
And I’m horny. Horny as all fucking hell! It seems to be my natural state these days. The twisted-up sheet restricts my movements. I must have been thrashing around in my sleep again. Now I’m panicky and I need to breathe! I throw off the sheet. My sweaty, naked body is suddenly chilled as I inhale deep lungsful of air. It calms me. I stretch out my long legs and arms. I feel my tag sticking to the inside of my thigh. Always there, so close to me. It’s hard to imagine myself without it at this point. A constant reminder of my date with the cross. My tag pulls away from my skin as I spread my legs apart. My hand goes to my crotch. I cup my vulva with one hand and apply gentle, increasing pressure. Getting hairy down there, I think. My shaving routine was disrupted as my piercing healed and I just haven’t started again. Sven didn’t seem to mind, so why bother.
With three fingers on one side of my pussy ring (that’s what I call it now) and two on the other side I begin to pleasure myself. The pressure is comforting and my pussy is quickly wet. My moist lips part as my middle finger probes. Oh yes! I need this! So much! I prop up my head with some pillows as I bend and spread my legs apart. My right hand goes back to my crotch. My middle finger to my clit. Come out little bean. Yeah, there you are. Time to make me feel good again! Warmth begins to flow outward from my clit. My left hand cups my right breast, stroking its nipple to tumescence and sending out ripples of tingly, erotic pleasure. Oh yes! As my finger strokes and plays with my sensitive clit waves of warmth fill my pelvis and spread throughout my body. My toes curl and my breathing gets deep and breathy as my stroking speeds up. There seems to be a direct pleasure connection between my nipple and clit. I’m quickly approaching an orgasm. No, wait! Slow it down Marcella, and savor the moment. Yes! Keep it on the edge, girl! The coiled-up tensions will soon enough be released. Now, faster. Yes! Slow down! Faster! Slow down! Oh god, I’m going to come! I’m at my tipping point. No going back now. Oh yes! Yes! YES! A shuddering climax suddenly explodes, starting in my clit and racing through my body. Spasms of electric pleasure race along my nerves accompanied by spreading waves of warm, indescribable pleasure. My back arches and I gasp with incredible contentment as all my erotic tensions release themselves.
My body orgasms again and again as I continue stroking my clit as long as possible. Then, utterly spent, I roll over to my side, squeezing my thighs together to make the warm tingles persist as long as possible. As the waves of pleasure dissipate I drift off into dreamless sleep.
I awake. It’s still dark. I feel chilled and slip back under the covers, my body relaxed and stress-free. I sleep again and now dream. I see myself hanging naked on a cross. There are huge nails piercing my wrists and feet. Oh god, I look so beautiful! My head is dropped to my chest. My long hair covers my breasts. Suddenly my head rises. My own eyes are wide open, staring at me. I scream from the cross.
My eyes fly open. Dawn is breaking. My heart is racing. I sit bolt upright in bed, quivering in utter fear and horrible anticipation of what awaits me. Oh god! I’m going to be crucified! A sickening feeling spreads out from my belly. I drop back onto the mattress, damp with my sweat. I roll up into a ball. Can it be true? Was this just bad dream? I reach between my legs. The tag is there. It is real! Fuck me! It’s real. I am a condemned cunt! I am a condemned cunt1 I am a condemned cunt!
I sob in my pillow. Full of sickening terror for what awaits me. Why? Why me? I’m innocent, I did nothing! Can’t someone tell me why I’m to be crucified?
My terror escalates, then slowly subsides. My hand is between my legs, holding onto my tag. I give it gentle tug. Oh! Oh! My pierced flesh responds with pleasure. How? How can the sign of my condemned state give me pleasure? I roll over onto my back. Pleasant memories flash through my mind. Oh, if only Sven were here! We both love early morning sex and his cock is always rock-hard just before he’s fully awake. I’m naturally horny in the morning and my pussy is always ready for him. Our eyes always seemed to open at the same time. I’d roll over onto my back, just as I did now, wordlessly inviting him to enter me. And he’d get between my legs and push that big cock of his into me so slowly and lovingly. Just the tip, at first, then with deeper and deeper penetrations until he’s balls-deep into my pussy. Then comes the thrusting: deep followed by shallow, then deep again, shallow, deep -- repeating the pattern with increasing intensity. Morning sex was always a great way to wake up. I loved it so. But since my tagging it’s only been a pleasant memory. My passion rises again as I think of him. Sweet Sven! Such a good lover! Where are you now? I need you so much! Fuuuuuck me! I want his cock in me right now! Filling me up, pounding away like a jack-hammer. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! What an insatiable, horny bitch I’ve become!
I have a big, thick, black dildo around here somewhere. Where the fuck is it?!!!
Another night. Can’t sleep. Dreams. Bad dreams? Or good dreams? I don’t know. But I woke all twisted up in my sheet. It’s almost like a shroud. Oh shit! What does that mean? I’m sweaty, nervous, and my heart is pounding. A faint nighttime glow diffuses through the curtains. The moon, streetlights, whatever.
And I’m horny. Horny as all fucking hell! It seems to be my natural state these days. The twisted-up sheet restricts my movements. I must have been thrashing around in my sleep again. Now I’m panicky and I need to breathe! I throw off the sheet. My sweaty, naked body is suddenly chilled as I inhale deep lungsful of air. It calms me. I stretch out my long legs and arms. I feel my tag sticking to the inside of my thigh. Always there, so close to me. It’s hard to imagine myself without it at this point. A constant reminder of my date with the cross. My tag pulls away from my skin as I spread my legs apart. My hand goes to my crotch. I cup my vulva with one hand and apply gentle, increasing pressure. Getting hairy down there, I think. My shaving routine was disrupted as my piercing healed and I just haven’t started again. Sven didn’t seem to mind, so why bother.
With three fingers on one side of my pussy ring (that’s what I call it now) and two on the other side I begin to pleasure myself. The pressure is comforting and my pussy is quickly wet. My moist lips part as my middle finger probes. Oh yes! I need this! So much! I prop up my head with some pillows as I bend and spread my legs apart. My right hand goes back to my crotch. My middle finger to my clit. Come out little bean. Yeah, there you are. Time to make me feel good again! Warmth begins to flow outward from my clit. My left hand cups my right breast, stroking its nipple to tumescence and sending out ripples of tingly, erotic pleasure. Oh yes! As my finger strokes and plays with my sensitive clit waves of warmth fill my pelvis and spread throughout my body. My toes curl and my breathing gets deep and breathy as my stroking speeds up. There seems to be a direct pleasure connection between my nipple and clit. I’m quickly approaching an orgasm. No, wait! Slow it down Marcella, and savor the moment. Yes! Keep it on the edge, girl! The coiled-up tensions will soon enough be released. Now, faster. Yes! Slow down! Faster! Slow down! Oh god, I’m going to come! I’m at my tipping point. No going back now. Oh yes! Yes! YES! A shuddering climax suddenly explodes, starting in my clit and racing through my body. Spasms of electric pleasure race along my nerves accompanied by spreading waves of warm, indescribable pleasure. My back arches and I gasp with incredible contentment as all my erotic tensions release themselves.
My body orgasms again and again as I continue stroking my clit as long as possible. Then, utterly spent, I roll over to my side, squeezing my thighs together to make the warm tingles persist as long as possible. As the waves of pleasure dissipate I drift off into dreamless sleep.
I awake. It’s still dark. I feel chilled and slip back under the covers, my body relaxed and stress-free. I sleep again and now dream. I see myself hanging naked on a cross. There are huge nails piercing my wrists and feet. Oh god, I look so beautiful! My head is dropped to my chest. My long hair covers my breasts. Suddenly my head rises. My own eyes are wide open, staring at me. I scream from the cross.
My eyes fly open. Dawn is breaking. My heart is racing. I sit bolt upright in bed, quivering in utter fear and horrible anticipation of what awaits me. Oh god! I’m going to be crucified! A sickening feeling spreads out from my belly. I drop back onto the mattress, damp with my sweat. I roll up into a ball. Can it be true? Was this just bad dream? I reach between my legs. The tag is there. It is real! Fuck me! It’s real. I am a condemned cunt! I am a condemned cunt1 I am a condemned cunt!
I sob in my pillow. Full of sickening terror for what awaits me. Why? Why me? I’m innocent, I did nothing! Can’t someone tell me why I’m to be crucified?
My terror escalates, then slowly subsides. My hand is between my legs, holding onto my tag. I give it gentle tug. Oh! Oh! My pierced flesh responds with pleasure. How? How can the sign of my condemned state give me pleasure? I roll over onto my back. Pleasant memories flash through my mind. Oh, if only Sven were here! We both love early morning sex and his cock is always rock-hard just before he’s fully awake. I’m naturally horny in the morning and my pussy is always ready for him. Our eyes always seemed to open at the same time. I’d roll over onto my back, just as I did now, wordlessly inviting him to enter me. And he’d get between my legs and push that big cock of his into me so slowly and lovingly. Just the tip, at first, then with deeper and deeper penetrations until he’s balls-deep into my pussy. Then comes the thrusting: deep followed by shallow, then deep again, shallow, deep -- repeating the pattern with increasing intensity. Morning sex was always a great way to wake up. I loved it so. But since my tagging it’s only been a pleasant memory. My passion rises again as I think of him. Sweet Sven! Such a good lover! Where are you now? I need you so much! Fuuuuuck me! I want his cock in me right now! Filling me up, pounding away like a jack-hammer. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! What an insatiable, horny bitch I’ve become!
I have a big, thick, black dildo around here somewhere. Where the fuck is it?!!!
Damn, Marcella...
Tree goes out to the Tree house deck...
Wake, reaching for yesterday
Up, washing the sleep away
My mind, full of the games you play all the time
I, roll up a cigarette
Sit down, trying hard to forget
Your face, when you turned and left me again
It's not a game
Seeing your face on the wall, when it's only in a frame
It's not the same
Sleeping without you at night, not knowing if I will again
-Mick Ronson, 'The Empty Bed'
It is very early Thursday morning, June 1, 2017...
I only do my job...
Tree
...I try to do it well...
Cella
Spectator
Yes. I am sure you will.
The days count down.
Are we playing a game Mr. Tree? If so, only you know the rules, I fear.
I'm but a condemned cunt.
Tree plays no games...
He assembles the three crosses that will be needed in just three weeks...
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messaline
Crucified Amazon
...in Premium French Crucifixion Wood ! So, what is the problem, Marcella ? You'll be pampered ...
As will you, Messa......in Premium French Crucifixion Wood ! So, what is the problem, Marcella ? You'll be pampered ...