A few Screws Loose

[lukash1296]

A few Screws Loose

Preface

This is my first crux story and my first time giving something back to the forum that provided so much to me.

The story got quite a bit longer than I originally expected. I hope that the English is not too bad and doesn’t distract from reading too much. Feel free to share any feedback below.

As for the content: I’ve explored a few themes, partially from my personal background but mostly just fantasies. The story is about a punishment that went a bit too far and includes a modern way to fasten someone to a cross.

Section 1 - Sin

Tonight, Nina was home alone. Mother had gone on holiday with friends and would return on Monday, father was out drinking like every Saturday night and probably wouldn’t be home until 4 AM. Being alone could be wonderful from time to time. Although she loved her parents, they could be very strict in certain areas and would certainly not approve of what she was planning to do tonight.

The student set up her laptop with headphones and opened the secret directory she was hiding her movies in. She selected one that she had downloaded a few weeks ago, but not been able to watch until now. At home with her parents as strict as they were, it was too dangerous and at campus she shared a room and could only dare it on the few occasions her roommate was gone for a night with no chance of coming back early.

But now Nina was as safe as she could be. She stripped of her jeans, socks and T-shirt, then proceeded to open her bra. She wasn’t scared to be seen by passerby. Her family home was an old farmhouse almost two kilometers from the village and her room was dark. After a short thought she also discarded her panties, then folded all her clothing neatly and put it on her bed. She would have locked her door, had her parents have given her a key. They always said she didn’t need one.

Completely naked she sat back to her laptop, put on her headphones and started the crux movie while beginning to massage her breasts. As she had read, this one by studio RealEffects was astonishing. The actress was beautiful, a model likely in her late twenties with long brown hair, her medium sized breasts not sagging at all. The whipping scene of this female Jesus seemed as real as she had seen in any Hollywood movie and the crown of thorns produced blood flows so authentic, she couldn’t believe it was show blood. Nina’s fingers had long found her clitoris. Although they gave the actress her tunica back before she had to carry the patibulum through an realistically looking Jerusalem, the quality still made it interesting to look at. The following stripping and especially the nailing scene though, those totally made up for the clothing before. The way the hammer crashed the nails through her tiny wrists, the realism of her screams, the squirming of her body… This was almost more than Nina could take.

With a loud whang the door to her room flung open. Nina flinched, then immediately minimized the video player and took of her headphones. “Hello dad”, she said frightened, dearly hoping he could not see her in the dark room, “you’re home early?” Please just go to bed and sleep off your drunkenness, she thought.

“Hello Nina”, he babbled, “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

It took her a moment to sort out his drunken words. “Just don’t need light while…”

With a flash the light went on as father pressed the switch. “That’s bad for your eyes.”

Nina winced and let herself slide deeper into her desk chair. He was standing behind her and he apparently was very drunk. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t notice. The Silence dragged on. What is he looking at? Oh no, my clothes. On the bed.

A faint cry from her discarded headphones sent her jumping again. Her father had heard it as well and fully entered her room. “Nina? What are you doing?” The student could only cringe as he turned her swivel chair and looked dumbfounded onto her naked form.

She was not prepared for his slap. It sent her and the chair falling to the ground. Shocked she touched her cheek.

“I told you last time, that I never want to see you watching porn again!”, he yelled. Nina could barely block a kick to her belly. Bewildered she stared at her father. He has never seriously tried to hurt me! I might be in some trouble.

Meanwhile the man knelt down before her laptop and after a short time found the video player. He opened it and looked staggered onto the naked women struggling on a massive cross, blood oozing from the nails through her wrists and feet as well as from the crown of thorns on her head. Not to mention the two nude thieves crucified beside her, one displaying a huge erection.

Father looked to her, then back to the video, then to her again, before he yelled: “So, not only are you masturbating, but you are doing it to a mockery of Jesus himself. Going against everything mother and I have ever taught you.”

Still afraid, Nina reckoned she had to say something. “This is no mockery of the Lord, this is the most honoring worship. It’s the same as a passion play.”

Dad glared at her. “You wanna go after Jesus? Fine, as punishment I’ll show you how that feels. After that you’ll relinquish this thought once and for all.”

He is going to… No, that’s impossible. Her heart was pounding heavily at the thought of her father maybe actually crucifying her.

“Give me your hands!”, her father ordered. Should I just run away? But this chance will probably never arise again. As she complied with the order, he bound her wrists together tightly by using his belt. He proceeded to do the same with her feet and the power cable of her printer.

Nina couldn’t believe what was happening. She was still aroused from the movie and now she was sitting on the ground fully naked, her hands and feet tied together making escape almost impossible and her father threatening to crucify her.

Of course, she’d dreamed about how this would feel basically every time she watched one of the few videos she found or when looking at one of the extremely realistic 3D-renderings. At the only three occasions she had deemed it safe enough, Nina had even tried some self-crucifixion bondage, suspending herself from her wardrobe. Obviously, those included the necessary security measurements, allowing her to exit the “cross” every time she wanted or needed to. This came with the price of the ropes sitting a bit loose, allowing them to move around and grind against her skin quite a bit. Also, she could abort it any time she wanted, both necessity and disadvantage. It resulted in her never lasting even twenty minutes in suspension.

This time she would not be able to exit the moment it started to really hurt but had to stay until her father decided to end it. If the bindings on her hands and feet were anything to go by, father would also tie her up quite securely, maybe allowing a longer time of enjoyment before the ropes would bite into her skin all too much.

She was deep enough in thoughts, that she almost didn’t notice her dad calling someone on the phone. What is he doing? Don’t tell me…

“Hey John. Could you come over? I need your help.” Short silence followed as John answered. “Punishing my daughter”, her father said. Silence again. “Ok, see you in a few minutes.”

Nina shivered. John and his wife were good friends of her parents, his wife currently being on holiday with her mother. “Dad?”, she asked.

“What, sweetheart?”

“Please don’t let John see me like that!”

“I haven’t stripped you, but you have done that yourself. And the girl in your video is naked as well. It’ll be part of your punishment.”

She sighed. John presumably has been out drinking with dad and was probably just as drunk, which meant he would likely play along. Although she understood why her father was calling him, as building and erecting the cross would not be an easy task alone, especially with him being drunk, she still didn’t really look forward to John seeing her nude.

While waiting for Johns arrival, which would take some minutes, considering how far out their house was, her father sat down on her desk chair and started the crux movie from the beginning, watching it very closely. Is he trying to figure out how to do it?

When the doorbell rang, dad left for the front entrance and soon enough Nina heard them talking. She tried to hide her breasts and privates as good as possible with her hands bound before her body.

Soon after, the two men entered her room. John surprisedly looked at her nakedness, then grinned. “Is this how you want to punish your daughter for masturbating? You want me to show her what her little pussy really was made for?”

Nina looked at him in terror. He wanted to sleep with her! Bound as she was, she couldn’t do anything to stop him from raping her.

“If you fuck my daughter, I’m gonna kill you”, father said, “besides, remember your wife, Katrin? I’m sure, she wouldn’t be amused.”

“Ok, ok”, he answered repellingly, “What do you want to do then?”

Dad pointed at her Notebook. “We’re going to crucify her.”

He’d said it. Father was really going through with this. Nina would have her first real crucifixion experience. It being by the hands of her dad was quite strange to her, as her subconsciousness almost put crucifixion on a level with sexual experiences, but she reassured herself that this was fine. A father punishing his daughter was not incest, at least if it didn’t include actual sex.

John meanwhile followed her old man’s hand and looked at the screen, his eyes devouring the naked girl struggling and crying out as her cross was slowly raised. Nina spotted a bulge forming in his jeans almost immediately and wasn’t completely sure if it was due to the video or the thought of doing the same thing to her.

“So, what are we gonna need to prepare?”

“We obviously need to build a cross. I think I have a few beams we can use in my workshop. Other than that, we should probably be fine. Let’s take the laptop and look at the video again, to see if there’s anything we’ve missed.”

“What do we do about your daughter while preparing?”, John asked.

“She isn’t going to go anywhere the way she’s tied up. She can stay here, sitting on the ground to reflect about what she’s done and get ready for what’s to come.”

The two men left to prepare the cross. Her cross.

 

[old slave]

The story got quite a bit longer than I originally expected. I hope that the English is not too bad and doesn’t distract from reading too much. Feel free to share any feedback below.

Interesting theme, let's hope they're not too drunk, but the title suggests danger. Nina is in for a very interesting weekend.
This length of post is about right.
English? I thought it read perfectly.

 

[lukash1296]

Section 2 - Anticipation

Nina couldn’t really do anything but wait, so she shifted to sit just a bit more comfortable, at least as far as that was possible with her hands and feet each tied together. She couldn’t stop imagining what was about to happen. How would it feel, being really bound to a cross? Not being able to escape? Having to bear it for however long her dad seemed endurable? These thoughts made her kind of aroused again, even with her tricky situation.

A fearful thought crossed her mind. Will he let me down? He obviously wouldn’t intend to kill her, but could she really trust on his rationality, drunk as he was? On one hand he had still seemed kind of sane, the way he talked to her, but on the other, the father she knew would never agree to crucify his daughter naked, so she wasn’t too sure.

The two men would probably stick to the video they snatched from her while building the cross. This let her sitting with unease. With show blood and fake nails, it appeared that the actress was bearing a lot of troublesome tortures. Hopefully those wouldn’t inspire them in the wrong way.

What else is in there?, she asked herself. Can I endure a whipping? Definitely not one of the sorts as shown in the video with a roman flagrum, but I’m pretty sure I can handle everything dad can deliver, especially if I’m then rewarded with the cross.

What about a crown of thorns? Their house was nearly surrounded by forest, so it would be easy for the men to go and get some thorns to crown her with, but would they think of it? While the idea seemed to be pleasuring, a real crown of thorns would most likely be nothing short of nasty and could even be dangerous if the spikes cut to deep.

And of course, the most utterly terrifying question: Will they be sane enough to use ropes or dare to try nails? What could she do to stop them if they tried to? She would have to convince them that nails were going too far. Leaving permanent damage at best and killing her at worst was definitely not what anyone involved wanted to archive. She didn’t really believe they would go down that path, but with this matter, she couldn’t be too careful. John had already threatened to rape her after all, though her das had intervened. She firmly believed he would interfere again if the question about nails was asked.

The men took their time with the preparations. Nina tried to settle her fluttering hearth. Better they built the cross properly than they rushed it and the wood collapsed later.

She shifted again on the floor, rolling onto her belly while searching for a more relaxed position. The irony of being uncomfortable just lying on the ground while desiring to be hung on a cross made her smile briefly.

What has dad said? I should reflect on what I have done? While she was still ashamed of being found out, the act of masturbation itself was not something she ever regretted. Everyone did things like that, regardless of what the church or her strict parents might have to say about it. He fetish on the other hand was not really something she was proud of. The cross had always had a special appeal to her, being the thing, she desired for years all the while secretly hating herself for doing so. Too often had she thought of it as being – like her father had broken down to her – a mockery of god. Other times she had felt terrible being aroused about the cruel death of a person, even if it was only fictional.

Therefore, Nina undoubtedly deserved punishment. Actual punishment, not this crucifixion, which would be more of an enjoyment for her. At least, that was what she hoped.

She heard steps. The men came back. First her father entered, looking at her, lying cozy at the floor now. He turned and opened her cabinet, apparently searching for something. At the same time, John went directly to Nina and pulled her to her feet by the belt her hands were bound with. She noticed a bit of blood on his hands. A mistake while building the cross? Or has he woven a crown?

He stared at her now fully visible body and grinned excitedly. Nina couldn’t say she fully understood him. Yes, she was young and kind of athletic, but her breasts were small to the point where they would completely vanish when she was lying on her back. Between her legs a short blond jungle sprouted. She had never had a boyfriend, as no one ever had seemed interested in her, and her parents would make less problems with her pubes this way. Her face wasn’t all that pretty, though she liked the shoulder-long honey-blond hair. However, alongside Johns beautiful wife, she looked like an ugly maturing girl compared to a full-on model.

Her father found what he had been searching for: In his right hand he held her old riding crop, which even she hadn’t thought about anymore. Nina shivered, thinking about what it would be used for. How would it feel?

“Make yourself useful and untie her feet”, he told John. Who followed the command, his head embarrassingly close to her privates as he knelt down. Nina blushed as he was looking closely, but the moment did last just a few seconds.

John immediately took her by the bond of her hands again and followed her dad, leading her out of her room and down the stairs. Then they surprised her by heading out through the door to the inner yard. The cool night air felt chill on her naked skin. Nina wasn’t sure where she’d expected them to set up the cross, but not out here. It was late summer, the nights getting longer and colder, although the men seemed intoxicated enough not to notice the cold, running around in shirts and shorts themselves.

Nina stopped right behind the doorstep. Lying on the ground was a cross. Well, sort of a cross. The crossbar was a massive, polished oaken plank, over a meter long, about thirty centimeters wide and ten thick, probably weighing as much as Nina herself. The nearly three meter long, round post that would be the upright on the other hand didn’t seem to be able to even hold the patibulum itself, much less with her hanging from it. The crosspiece was lying on the pole in an odd angle, connected by single a massive screw and some carelessly bound ropes. It would have quite some room to turn with her hanging on it, assuming it was even able to sustain her weight at all. The men had not cared or known to add a foothold or – god be thanked – a cornu.

She lifted her eyes to look at the rest of the court, noticing some bottles of beer standing in a corner. The men had continued drinking, probably not a good sign. Another thing was jumping into her view. They seemed to have tested quite some beams and planks, as a pile was lying at the entrance of father’s workshop, but one of them was lying some distance away from the rest. It was similar to the one being her crossbar, though quite a bit thinner. Did they intend to make her carry this as a patibulum or had they just discarded it there? Although smaller, it would still be very heavy. Almost too heavy for her to bear.

 

[Servus Venandi]

Fascinating story, lukash. As someone who used to sit in church and fantasize about girls hanging from the big cross behind the altar, I empathize a great deal with the main character.

 

[Deleted member 15138]

Very interesting! Perhaps I'll translate it into German.

 

[Eulalia]

I like this a lot, Nina's thoughts and feelings, especially her conflicted feelings towards her parents,
and about being crucified, ring very true to me.

 

[lukash1296]

Very interesting! Perhaps I'll translate it into German.

Thank you. As a german native it would be kind of funny to me if I struggle to write an english story just to have it translated back into german.
I would appreciate if you did and it will be especially interesting to see your take on the story. If I find the time and energy to do so, I might write a german version myself.

 

[lukash1296]

Section 3 - Torture

John reckoned she had had enough time to survey their work and pulled firmly at the belt tying hands. Nina stumbled in surprise and would have fallen if not for the man still gripping her bond. She felt sharp pain from her knees as they hit the gravel of the ground and cried out, though more from the suddenness than from the ache.

John didn’t really care, pulled her up by her bonds and quickly continued to lead her across the yard. From a building that had once been a pigpen, up high in the air, a rough wooden beam stuck out into the yard. Nina had no idea what it had originally been used for. Her father put down his bottle of beer and tied one end of a solid looking rope to the belt at her hands, then he threw the other end over the wooden beam. He proceeded to pull it down, stretching first the rope, then forcing her hands above her head, continuously pulling until she stood on tiptoes, then a bit more, stretching her body. He stopped when her toes could barely touch the ground.

Nina groaned at the light pain of her body fully stretched and the sharper pain of the belt biting into her wrists. It was a strange feeling, being suspended like this, completely nude and utterly defenseless. Even more so outdoors at night, where a cold wind started to caress her exposed body, embracing her breasts, brushing between her tights. She could feel her nipples hardening and blushed in shame.

Dad stepped in front of her and looked her up and down. “For your indulgence of the lord’s pain, you will be punished the same way he and the girl of your blasphemous video were.” The same way. He didn’t mean… nails, did he? “Of course, we have to make some modifications, as we sometimes don’t have the right equipment and we don’t actually want to kill you.” Nina sighed relieved. So, no nails.

“At first, as Jesus was whipped by the romans, you will be whipped with thirty-nine strokes. We don’t have a roman whip and I have failed to find the bullwhip we once owned. Thus, your riding crop is going to suffice. As John has some experience with the whip, he’s going to do that. I told him there is no reason to restrain himself. We don’t want to cause some light pain and pleasure you, but we are going to punish you.”

Her eyes widened in fear. However, she had no chance to even consider. Immediately, sharp pain exploded at her shoulder. “One”, her dad counted as she cried out.

The second one hit hard at her lower back, causing her body to bend. Her toes lost the contact to the ground, which made her swing. The rope she was secured with twisted, let her get a good look at John, who hold the riding crop over his shoulder, then brought it forward and down with all his might. However, the turning also meant that the man could now strike at her front. The keeper of the crop hit at her left breast, just barely missing the nipple. Nina threw her head back and screamed as heavy agony spread from her bosom, the delicate flesh wobbling from the impact. “Three”, father said.

Hit after hit followed. Nina cried out, howled and screamed at every collision, sobbed and groaned between the strikes. Her whole body seemed to be just a mass of pain. Soon she was covered in welts, some had even drawn blood. She especially feared the gruesome attacks finding the way to the tender flesh of her chest or her tights. Thankfully John at least wasn’t aiming for her womanhood, although some assaults stroke unpleasantly close.

Though, even with all the pain, Nina surprisedly discerned that she could take it. Yes, every impact was a torment and the older ones still burned, but she could take it. It was only thirty-nine strokes after all. Or so she thought.

When they arrived in the twenties, she nervously noticed that her dad was repeating the same number two times. Then he completely lost track and continued at sixteen again. Now she cried out not only in misery, but also in terror. This would never end. The men were too drunk to count. They would start over, over and over.

They’d reiterate the same numbers again and again while setting her body one fire with a hundred strikes, tearing it apart with a thousand more. Please, just make it stop. More and more hits followed. Her skin was recovering less and less between the strikes, the pain ever increasing.

Finally, after what had felt like hours, dad reached thirty-nine.

Nina relaxed. It was over. She had no idea how many it had been, though probably less than one hundred. Now they would take her down and bind her to the cross. She didn’t look forward to this as much as she had. Her tormented back would grate painfully against the upright and she was already exhausted. Furthermore, she had no idea how long the men would let her hang from it. She couldn’t really trust them in their state.

Another strike. Flaming pain radiating from her right buttock. She howled, this time more in unpleasant surprise than in actual pain. The ache subsided, leaving her hanging in her bonds again, exhausted.

“Hey John, that’s enough”, father ordered, “She already had her thirty-nine hits.”

They released the rope holding her. Nina immediately collapsed into her dads’ grip. Strong but careful hands held her naked, sweating, beaten, and a bit bloodstained body. “I think she had enough”, he proclaimed. “We should probably stop here.”

She agreed. The cross would be too much given the state she was in. But a part of her protested. This was her only chance. Dad would never again be drunk and angry enough to consider this. Besides, she wanted the feeling of a real crucifixion. What could be more real, than to be bound after a heavy whipping? “No”, she heard herself whispering, “Continue. I must pay for my sins. Please.”

“All she has to do now is hang from the cross”, John objected, “how hard can this be? The hard part is already over.”

“I … I have to think about it”, father said.

“Need some help thinking?”, John asked, weaving a bottle of clear liquid towards him.

Father carefully put her on the ground, but the gravel was biting painfully into her damaged skin anyway. Then he headed over to John, taking a large gulp from the schnapps. He and John were talking, arguing. John wanted to continue, dad did not. Nina couldn’t fully follow them.

After some minutes, father asked loudly: “Do you resent your sins and your strange fantasies. Will you never watch these videos again?”

He gave her a chance to end it. But it would require her to lie. Lie about something that was such an important part of her, even though nobody should have ever known. And there still was this part of her, that even now really wanted to be crucified, weakened as she was. “No”, Nina said, “I don’t resent masturbating and I can’t ever stop watching female crucifixions.”

Fathers expression hardened. He took another big gulp of liquor, then he announced. “So be it. Then the next step would be a crown of thorns, but as John has hurt his fingers quite badly just trying to get some thorns from the forest, we will skip this. Therefore, you are now to carry your crosspiece 10 times around the yard.”

 

[Deleted member 15138]

Part 1 - 3 are translated. You can post the next ones!

 

[lukash1296]

Section 4 - The Cross

At first, she didn’t understand. Wouldn’t they place her on the cross now? Then she followed her fathers pointing finger and again noticed the smaller plank lying alone on the yard, similar in size to her patibulum. She remembered her earlier thoughts. They can’t really expect me to carry this heavy wood? In my condition?

It seemed that they did. When she didn’t move, dad dragged her, by the rope and the belt her hands were tied with, across the court. Nina stumbled to her feet, trying to prevent her legs from scratching over the gravel.

When he arrived before the beam, he untied her hands, that started to hurt immediately, now that blood could freely circulate again. Father ordered her to stretch her arms out, which she did, reluctantly. Then he and John lifted the heavy plank, each man taking one end, and placed it on her shoulders.

Nina’s feet succumbed to the weight just a moment after the men let go of the patibulum. She fell to her knees at first, spiky stones peaking her, provoking a groan. Still, she could not take the burden and collapsed forward, breasts and face hitting the gravel, little rocks bit her sensitive flesh, while the wood pressed her body against the ground, forcing her breath out of her. Maybe I should just give in and end this unpleasant game, she thought, lying in the dirt.

The men thought otherwise. Each took one end of the beam together with one of her arms. Then they pulled her up until she got her feet under her body and could stand, her upper body bent forward under the burden.

They started to walk her, still holding part of the weight. Even with the support, Nina was hardly able to get one leg in front of the other, taking slow steps, the gravel hurting her soles with the added weight.

Many different sensations intruded Nina’s mind, every single one trying to get her attention. Her outstretched arms, half carrying the heavy beam, half being carried by the men, walking nude through the cold, her feet being cut by the stones, back aching from the weight, skin still burning from the flogging, hands hurting from the previous bonds. The proximity of her pose to actual crucifixion. Her nudity, her defenselessness and the now subsided but still present pains aroused her, while the cold and the heavy work she had to do served to repress those feelings.

They led her around the court. One time, a second time. Nina’s remaining strength declined and she was dragged around as much as she walked herself. The men seemed to weaken as well. Just before they reached their starting point the third time, her father stumbled, losing his hold of the crosspiece. One end suddenly heavier, Nina lost her balance and fell again. She attempted to get her feet in front of her to not end up face down again. As result, she landed on her bottom and right after that on her back, where the gravel now hurt the part of her body sustaining the most hits from the crop. This time she did get enough air to cry out.

She lay there panting and sweating, not being able to get up. For some reason she had kept a hold of the plank and it now lay heavy on her hands and arms. Being stretched out on the beam and unable to move stimulated her deeply. This was nearly the same position the hands would be nailed at if the upright was already standing. Then the victim would be raised up to it on the crosspiece with all weight on his nailed wrists. Of course, her cross was lying wholly on the ground, waiting for her weakened body to not be nailed but tied onto, before the instrument would be raised with her hanging from it.

But can I really take it? I doubt I’ll manage to carry this wood seven more times around, even with support. Contrary to John’s thoughts, hanging crucified would not be easier than carrying the plank. From everything she had seen and read, she would constantly have to push up just to get enough air. Realistically, she should try to end it here. It had gone on long enough. She wasn’t strong enough to endure it all the way. Not tonight, at least. But why, just why did a part of her consciousness oppose these thoughts so heavily? This is my only chance, this part thought, Never again will father consider doing this and I don’t even manage to get a normal boyfriend, much less one that would be willing to crucify me and could still be trusted enough to not pose any danger. This is my only chance.

“I think we leave the way of the cross as is”, father said, getting up from the ground, breathing heavily as well. “So, Nina, do you resent your sins now or are we forced to continue?”

I cannot continue. But I have to continue. “I don’t see a sin in what I’ve done”, she said provokingly.

“Then you will be tied to the cross”, her dad said while rolling the beam she had carried from her hands before dragging her to her feet. She was led just a few steps, then pushed down again and ordered to position herself.

Eagerly, Nina obeyed, carefully shifting her bottom over the uneven, splintery timber of the thin stake intended as her upright. She leaned back and moved her hands along the smother, larger wood of the crosspiece, positioning them in the middle of the plank in a way that left her arms not fully stretched, her shoulders placed just below the patibulum. Then she pulled her feet up closer until her knees were in a ninety-degree-angle, keeping her legs pressed firmly together in order to hide her excitement. The feeling of her nakedness against the rough post just felt incredible. This pose, the stance of the crucified, nearly made her explode with pleasure, the heat of her body banished the cold of the night.

“She cannot await having a nice seat”, John commented, starring at her while taking another sip from the schnapps. His remark made Nina blush, hoping the men wouldn’t notice her now all but obvious arousal.

Father didn’t seem to recognize. Immediately after she had positioned herself, he took a thick rope and wrapped it tightly around her left wrist and the crosspiece beneath, binding her fast to the timber. This of course only served to fuel the fire burning within her. She really had to concentrate on something else, otherwise she would blame herself thoroughly. However, she could not think of anything else, with the wood of her cross against her skin. Her second wrist got firmly bound to the crosspiece, leaving her completely helpless, unable to even use her hands.

Nina could barely contain a moan. Her face reddened deeply with dad now moving to her legs, being able to look directly at her loins. Even a blind man could see her excitement at this point. He didn’t say a word though and proceeded to tie her ankles and feet together and to the upright, her soles pressed sturdily against the wood.

After finishing her bonds, he stood up and took a step back to regard his work. Nina could not help but to probe her bonds, which did not stretch or loosen. The tight ropes withhold a part of the blood supply to her limbs already, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was her, bound naked to the cross, unable to slip away, required to endure any torture laid upon her. She could barely move, but already tested out her boundaries, thrusting her pelvis high into the air. She had to bite her lip to suppress a pleasured cry. She couldn’t wait for the men to finally erect the cross, making her feel the full reality of crucifixion. Oh, how wonderful it already was.

“She is enjoying this too much”, John remarked, “I still think we should use nails to make it an actual punishment.”

Immediately, Nina’s fantasies faded. Nails! No! They will not... They cannot… Still, she couldn’t open her mouth, remainders of the pleasure in her body betrayed the fear in her head.

“It’s too dangerous”, her father held against his friend, “Besides, I don’t even have any nails large enough to carry her weight.”

“What if we used small nails additionally to the ropes, just to make her hanging a bit more uncomfortable?”

Dad considered. She could see the fight in his eyes. “Still, it’s dangerous”, he argued, weakening, “And nails are kind of permanent. We will have a hard time getting them out.”

“The actress in the movie is also nailed to the cross and they would never do that to an actress if it really would be dangerous. We can let the nail heads stick out, so we can easily grasp them with your pincers and pull them out.”

Nina could see her father slowly giving in. This cannot happen! Finally, the terror beat the arousal. “You cannot seriously think about that!”, she shouted, “You have a few screws loose! Do you want to kill me? Because nails will! They obviously used fake nails in the video! Nobody would let themselves being crucified with nails! Its way to deadly!”

Dad didn’t listen anymore. “Screws! That’s it!”

“What!”, Nina shouted out, dumbfounded, at the same time as John.

“Screws, they are also used to connect things. We basically don’t use any nails anymore, because screws are just that much easier to handle. They can be easily screwed in and out. And I think I even have a few really large ones, that will serve the purpose of holding Nina up well.”

“Right”, John agreed, “I bet screws hurt just as much as nails and with your cordless screwdriver it’s going as fast.”

In terror she realized that the men intended to go through with this. “You cannot do that! You will kill me! You cannot…” Her protests seemed in vain, the men didn’t even listen, instead heading into father’s workshop to get the screws. “This cannot be. I don’t want to. Help me!” Nina started weeping. If she only had listened to her rational half and ended this when she had a chance to.

She waited, crying, fearing what was to come. Cursed herself for her foolishness. She didn’t want to die. She was still young, her studies were going well, assuring her a promising job once they were finished. If she got the chance for that.

 

[lukash1296]

Section 5 - Pain

Steps announced the return of the men. Nina squinted through a blonde flick of hair. She saw her dad approaching, carrying the cordless screwdriver, they had talked about. John followed directly behind him, holding in his hands four enormous screws, each more than half a centimeter thick and about ten long. She shivered, tears continued to flow down her cheeks.

“Are you ready?”, John asked.

“No”, she replied, crying, “Please, please don’t do this. This is going way to far.”

“Rubbish! A bit of pain will tell you to never mock our Lord again. Maybe you remember next time.” Then he asked her father: “Do you want to drive them in or shall I?”

“I will do it myself”, dad answered, proceeded to kneel down above her hand and prompted one arm out to John, who reluctantly gave him one of the screws. Carefully he mounted the gigantic bolt to the magnetic crosstip of the screwdriver.

Nina watched with her eyes wide open as he brought the machine to her wrist, placing the tip of the screw just above it. The sharp point was against her skin, making her whole body tremble in anticipation and panic. Strangely she noticed details like how that the not-exactly-nail wasn’t correctly placed. Instead of the middle of her wrist, her father had placed it closer to the inner side. This way, at least, he wouldn’t directly hit any major nerves.

Dads finger relentlessly moved closer to the switch, apparently unsure himself. “Please don’t do it”, she begged, “It will hurt beyond comprehension. It may even kill me. Please don’t do this to your only child!”

He paused. “Do you regret what you have done?”, he asked.

Hope flickered within her. “Yes, I do, I do regret my sins. I do resent my sins. So please, please, by all love of god, stop this madness!”

“You will never think of any of this again? You will cease your blasphemous fantasies of crucifixion? You will put an end to your sexual excesses?”

Nina hesitated. She had to lie. “Yes, I will”, she proclaimed, hoping he would not notice the untruth of her words.

“You mean it? You will never again fantasize about crucifixion or touch yourself?”

She faltered again. God would forgive this lie, right? She had no other choice. She was not one of the old Christian Martyrs who would rather die than betray their ideals. “Yes, I will never do these things again”, she replied melancholy.

“You dare lie to me after all your other sins!”, he shouted furiously, his index finger moving towards the switch again.

“No dad, I did not …”, she tried to say.

Her father pressed the switch. The machine started with an angry roar. Agony exploded in her arm. Her vision faded, went white. An inhuman howl sounded, drowning the loud roar of the engine.

Nina squinted into the night, as if her eyes had to adapt from total darkness to bright sunlight. Her feet were pressed into the wood as well as her wrists, her pelvis and upper body raised as high as she could from the cross. If not for the ropes, she would have escaped to the sky. Her head rolled back, throat sore. Had it been her that let out this awful scream?

Her body went limb, back crashing hard into the wood. The sudden movement caused more pain to radiate from her hand. Slowly, she rolled her head around to look onto her poor, delicate wrist. The brazen screwhead pressed against her skin, blood oozing out around it. So much blood. Driving the screw in had splattered it all over her hand and arm, dark red contrasted pale skin.

Dad still crouched over her, his face a mask of terror, accentuated by splatters of blood. He had finally realized what horrible thing he had done.

Nina cried. The pain was just too much. She tried to talk, tell her father to drive the screw out of her immediately, to call an ambulance, but only tormented sobs escaped her lips. How was any human being supposed to bear this cruel agony?

Father

Charles stumbled back from the cross, his hands splattered with blood. Carelessly he dropped the screwdriver, did not want to have anything to do with it right now. On the ground before him his daughter squirmed and cried. She looked at the bloody screw sticking out of her wrist, not believing what she saw.

She was butt naked, torso crisscrossed with angry red welts from the whipping, breathing heavily, but nearly unable to move, as he had roped her hands and feet to an improvised wooden cross. And, of course, there was that one wrist, he had driven a screw through to make the crucifixion more realistic.

What have I done?

Charles grasped the bottle of schnapps from John, pouring down slug after slug, trying to forget. Forget that his daughter was taking sexual likings to heretic practices. Forget that as punishment he had let John whip her naked frame. Forget that he made her carry a crossbeam and bound her to a cross. Forget that they had intended to use nails or screws on all four of her limbs. Forget, how he’d driven in the screw. Forget how Nina had thrown her body around in anguish as response. Forget the terrible agonized scream Nina had made when he had screwed her.

The bottle was empty. He looked over to John, who seemed just as shocked as himself. He had got another jug – vodka this time – and was taking large gulps, trying to flush away what they had done by drowning it in alcohol.

Charles longed for the bottle and John gave it to him.

“Now let’s nail the bitch up for good”, his best friend said.

“Are you kidding? You want to continue this madness.”

“You wanted to punish her. She still isn’t changing her thoughts and was lying right to your face.”

That was right. Suddenly het got angry at Nina. She had made him do that. He had asked her multiple times if she had had enough and was resenting her sins. But she had declined every time and provoked him to go on. She had wanted to be crucified, he now realized. So, they crucify would her.

Charles made a step towards the screwdriver, then stopped, looked at his daughter. Her sweaty body lay almost motionless on the cross, taking in deep breaths. Shoulder long blonde hair stuck to her skin. He remembered her howl of pain, remembered how she had said that screws would kill her. And stopped.

The alcohol was telling him to hurt his daughter, nothing else. That was a lie. He could feel it, deep within himself: That part of him he had always tried to hide from everyone, even from himself. That part that liked to hurt. He got furious at Nina for bringing this hidden self out.

“So, are we going to continue?”, John asked.

Charles looked at the naked girl, then at the screwdriver, then at his friend who was so eager to continue. Just like himself. Maybe it was the alcohol after all. And Nina hadn’t died from one screw, so what would a few more matter? There wasn’t even that much blood, everything considered.

“You do it”, he responded to John. “You drive in the screws.”

But he would watch. Aroused, satisfied, terrorized.

Nina

Nina wept, tried to move as little as possible, to not rub her sore back against the stake, to not grind her shattered bones against the screw. She attempted to move her fingers and gratefully they all reacted, although it caused sickening suffering by moving her pinned wrist. Why did the men not help her now? Where they still too shocked? She could now hear them talk but didn’t understand what they said. Her wrist was screaming too loud, begging her to remove the screw, to ease the pain.

Someone neared. Nina looked up to see John, in his hand the screwdriver. So, they would finally remove it and end her torment.

He knelt above her wrist and connected the crosstip with the screw. Her thoughts stumbled. He knelt above the wrong wrist!

Nina threw her head around, which was a bad idea, because it put strain on her immobilized arm. She watched John as he placed another screw on her right wrist. Watched in horror, watched in terror, unable to say anything. Why would they continue? Hadn’t they been shocked at her reaction? Why? Why? Why! No!

John operated the switch and the electric engine sprang to life, turned the screw just above her skin. She watched the fast turning metal in horrible anticipation. Then John moved the machine down, driving the massive screw through her little wrist.

She could not believe the pain, even as she suffered it. Hot white pain, stunning all her senses. Agony made her body move on its own, curved her back, pressed up her hips, made her scream loader than she believed she was able to.

Again, her body fell back to the timber, which pushed the remaining air out of her lungs. She gasped for breaths, the torture ever so slightly subsiding. If you could even call the angry twin wounds screaming for attention from her wrists, numbing her senses with pain, as being subsided.

This time, John didn’t freeze in shock, but instead all to soon moved towards her feet, softly touching her breast while doing so, smearing blood over the tender skin. She tried to look up without moving her arms to much and saw her father watching. How could they go on with this? The pain was already beyond comprehension. Nevertheless, they would really crucify her, using nails – no, screws.

John prepared another large screw and set it on top of her right foot.

“Please …”, she managed to croak through her suffering, her eyes transfixed on the metal waiting just above her metatarsus.

John looked down on her body, grinned, then moved his finger towards the switch.

Nina tried to pull her leg away, but the tight ropes didn’t allow her to move far enough. The evil screw broke through her skin and another wave of agony collapsed over her. She heaved her body up at pinned wrists, dug heels into hard wood, raised her lower body up high into the air, head thrown back, howling in torment.

Then, she collapsed down to the timber and gulped in the fresh cold night air. The pain of the midfoot now added to the older, but not less pervasive ones from her wrists. Although she knew she should not do it, Nina lifted her head as far as possible, grating her bones against the screws in the process. She let out another suppressed scream, then looked over her small but firm breasts and the triangle of blonde hair, through her now spread knees towards her feet.

Her right foot had been crushed by the screw, looked like a bloody mess, the brazen top sticking out proudly above it. John knelt over the left one, already had the next screw prepared.

“Don’t!”, she managed to cry through sharp breaths and pain.

Again, he didn’t listen, but instead pressed the switch and pushed the electric screwdriver down hard.

Agony exploded, radiating through her entire body, worse than ever before. Unbelieving, Nina let out a deafening high-pitched howl, hurting her ears. Her vision faded to white, she felt her muscles straining, raising her up from the ground once more. More pain emitted from all four of her limbs, muscles tensing up even more, one scream going directly into the next one, not leaving time to breathe. Followed by cramps and yet more torment, more cries. White giving way to black.

Father

Finally, after a minute of terrible screaming and rocking her naked body on the timber, Nina collapsed, seemingly unconscious. Her body seemed tiny, how it lay there on the cross, hands and feet sprinkled with blood, torso showing the marks of her whipping. Taking in small breaths, her breasts heaving just the tiniest bit.

“You’re sure you want to continue this?”, John asked.

“Let’s see how long it takes her to wake up”, Charles replied, while starting to dig a small hole with his spade, “but generally, yes. Let’s raise her cross and leave her hanging for a bit. Let her feel what crucifixion is really like for a short time, drive out any desire to relive the experience. Then we get her down and tend to her wounds.”

“Ok, but let’s not waste much time. I’m getting kind of tired. Must be the alcohol.” His glance was fixed to the naked girl and the bulge in his jeans betrayed his words. “You want to cut those ropes? The screws are holding her and if we get them off now, we will be faster afterwards.”

Charles considered. “No, leave them be. I’m still not sure if the screws will support her weight and I think they will hurt enough with the support of the ropes.”

“Right. I bet these screws hurt like hell. If her screams are anything to judge by.” John chuckled.

Charles couldn’t find it amusing. This was a pain as well as a pleasure for him. On one side his dark, hidden self enjoyed the thought of his daughter helplessly suffering, but on the other he regretted he had to do this to extinguish any liking she took towards crucifixion.

“She’s waking up”, his friend assessed.

He noticed it as well and stopped digging. Her breathing changed, eyes slowly squinted, then suddenly flung open wide, eyes bulging, another scream escaping her lips.

 

[lukash1296]

Section 6 - Agony

Nina slowly woke and felt cold. Had she thrown away the bedsheet while sleeping naked? What if her parents found out? No, something was not right. Pain was radiating from her hands. And her feet. Terrible pain. A wooden stake in her back, cold night air engulfing her naked body, her skin still sore from the riding crop. All strange sensations, but nothing could compare to the agony of her nailed limbs.

Nina threw her head back and screamed. This nightmare was still going on. Her movements made the screws grate against her bones once more, causing more unbearable pains. To avoid the pain, she tried to lay still, took in slow, deep breaths. She looked over her heaving breasts towards the men without raising her head much.

To her horror, dad was standing right below her feet with a shovel in his hands, watching her suffering with an emotionless face while preparing her grave. They really intend to kill me!

Slowly Nina spoke. It was hard to open her mouth without crying, to talk through the mist of anguish the metal was causing her even while laying still. “Please, by the love of god, stop this madness! I beg you, release me from this pain.”

“You dare speaking of god, while even now taunting his Sons sacrifice?”, John replied laughing. She couldn’t believe it. He was making fun of her. He understood she couldn’t do anything, that she hadn’t any choice in the matter, and still mocked her.

Before she could say anything, dad remarked: “I thought you wanted to be crucified?”

“But not like this”, Nina answered.

“Well, but this is what crucifixion was really like. You should be glad that you can live through the full experience. Maybe then you no longer will look down on our Lord and all those who have suffered likewise in his name.”

Except then I will technically be one of those who have suffered crucifixion in the Lords name, she thought. Instead she said: “Please stop this. I understand what you want to tell me. I won’t ever think of this again. Just please, free me from this terrible agony.”

“Pah. John, you get the left side of the beam, I’ll take the right one. Time to raise her.”

“No!”, she cried. “Please! Don’t do this! I don’t want to die!”

The men didn’t pay much attention to her pleadings, They instead took her patibulum and slowly started to raise it, dragging Nina and the whole cross along. When they began this process, she stopped talking, instead gritting her teeth together, tried to somehow bear the increasing pain. Slowly her weight began to shift as the cross raised first to knee- then to hip-height. Weight shifted from her back and bottom on the wood to the terrible screws in her hands and feet.

She remained still and silent despite the agony, knowing it would only cause more suffering if she moved. She managed to endure this until the cross was at about a forty-five degree angle. The men had their hands already above shoulder height and started to argue how to continue, while her skin started to lose its grip on the timber. She slid down, her arms extended, putting more and more weight to them.

Nina couldn’t take it anymore. She started to scream, cry, and rocked back and forth on the cross, which caused even more pain. This in turn made her curve her back and press hard against the metal in her feet to relieve the anguish in her hands, raised her whole body from the wood. She let out another distressed howl.

For the men, holding the heavy cross with her body on top had already been hard while she had lain there motionless. Now with her body trashing around, they strained to keep hold of the heavy instrument.

Her breath spent, Nina collapsed, her back crashing into the hard lumber again, forcing the last bit of air out of her lungs. Then she fell. For a moment, she didn’t understand. Was she losing her consciousness again? But her drop suddenly stopped when her cross and body hit the ground.

Sharp stones penetrated the skin of her bottom where her body had slipped from the wood, but she hardly noticed them compared to the explosion of agony her limbs where now causing. Her eyes watered, bulged, her vision went white again. She desperately wanted to scream, but didn’t get enough air, couldn’t breathe. I’m suffocating, if the shock from the pain is not going to kill me first.

Finally, her lungs filled again, she greedily sucked in the cold air, then immediately pushed it out again with a terrible scream. Only when the most gruesome pain had receded, she could go back to take in slow, deep breaths, keeping the pain at bay once again. Maybe the men would see reason and stop this.

“Let’s try this again and this time don’t drop her”, father said between ragged breaths.

Please, No, she wanted to say, but couldn’t find enough strength before the men took hold of her crossbeam again and started to lift it anew.

She gritted her teeth and silently endured the shifting of weight. At the same point they had let her fall before, she had to cry out again, but this time she did not move any more then gravity forced her to. The men succeeded in changing their grip this time and raised her further.

Nina couldn’t believe the pain the more upright positions caused. Now the timber took basically none of her weight, everything was on the screws and ropes at her wrists and feet. Suddenly she dropped again, soon coming to a painfully abrupt halt in a fully vertical position. The sudden jolt was heavy enough that she felt the ropes biting painfully into her skin and the stretching of her shoulders almost suggested that they were pulled out of their joints. The agony of the screws was just indescribable. Hot white pain shot from her wrists down her arms right into her brain. Its brother started at her feet, radiated up her legs through the right angle of her knees and the curve of her bottom. All these torments combined in her head, made her feel as if her whole body was on fire. She screamed her soul together with the last bit of air out of her lungs, then thankfully faded into unconsciousness.

-----

All to soon the blackness retreated, which left Nina exposed to suffering once more. She woke with yet another dreadful cry. Her wrists and feet hurt worse than ever before. She looked up to see her right hand, the bloody wrist screwed to the enormous crossbeam, while right below thick ropes supported her weight. Her head was about half a meter below her hands, so she looked up along the fully stretched arm, her muscles clearly highlighted in the bright moonlight.

Her glance wandered down her body, over her breasts, pressed forward by the wood in her back. Her legs were parted, exposing the blonde triangle and what lay beneath. Knees now formed a sharp angle, though even in this lowest achievable stance her bottom was still thirty centimeters from touching her heels. Her poor feet, bloody with giant screws driven through them, forced flat against the upright. And of course, also supported by ropes, which seemed to serve little for relieving the pain.

Below her feet the upright extended about another meter before vanishing in a hole in the ground, fastened by a few wooden wedges. So, this was the hole her father had dug. He hadn’t prepared a grave. Nina also comprehended that the fall and sudden stop at the end of her raising had been caused by the cross sliding into this pit.

Then the realization struck her. She was actually hanging from a cross. Nailed – no screwed – nevertheless. And she endured it, not that she had much of a choice. Of course, cries and sobs involuntarily escaped her lips all the time, but she was hanging pretty still, was suffering a real crucifixion while her mind seemed almost clear again. I’m hanging from a cross. Outdoors. Naked. And I can’t escape until the men let me down. I will have to live through an actual crucifixion.

Reality all too fast caught up to her. In the position she was hanging, with arms extended far over her head, it was becoming difficult to breathe. Nina knew what had to come next, anticipated it, but feared it even more. Slowly, even though she did not desire to, she shifted more and more weight to her feet. Pressed her legs together, pushed up on the screws. She wept, she cried, but she continued rising. Pulled at her wrists, thrusted with her feet.

The makeshift construction of her cross was shaking, the timber moaning, but she had to continue. Finally, she arrived at the highest possible position. With her legs almost fully stretched and nearly all her weight on the screws and ropes of her feet, she could easily breathe. And scream. Thus, she howled, protested against this excruciating agony she was forced to suffer.

Nina could not hold this posture for long. The screws in her feet hurt too much with all her weight on them. Therefore, she was soon finding herself slowly sinking down again. Pain shifted from her feet back to her wrists, breathing got more difficult again.

She looked down, saw her father, watching her dance sorrowful, seemingly fighting with himself. Saw John, watching her dance with glowing eyes, following her every move. His bulge seemed to no longer be able to be contained by his jeans. Then he took out his phone and tried to take a picture. He talked to dad and then took the image with fathers’ phone instead, the bright flash blending Nina for a moment. Apparently his own no longer had any battery left.

Nina moaned, not lustfully, but in pain. Breathing was getting difficult again and not only that. Slowly she started to feel the strain in her shoulders and thighs. The position she was bound and nailed at, with her feet forced flat against the upright and arms spread out wide, did not allow her bottom to sink down to anywhere near her feet, made even her light bodyweight hard to bear. The strain of her muscles didn’t even compare to the pain of the screws yet, but it certainly didn’t make things easier. And it would become only harder down the line.

Knowing a lot of speculations and second-hand experience through the internet, she unfortunately could imagine what would be coming for her. Her limbs would get weaker, breathing would become heavier, both forcing her to move more on her cross. Then her muscles would be tired and no longer able to move. They would spasm, the cramps throwing her poor body against the screws as if it hadn’t suffered enough. Then slowly she would start to no longer get enough air and gruesomely asphyxiate. All of that would happen if she couldn’t convince the men to let her down in time.

Nina pressed up on her feet again, grating her bones against the screws, whimpering in pain. She managed to get to a higher position, her body floating before the cross, only held by four screws and a bit of rope around every one. She took in deep breaths, resisting the urge to cry out once again. Instead she begged through gritted teeth: “Please, Dad. Let Me down. I’ve learned my lection. Oh, it hurts so much. Please!”

Father looked at her silently. Please, end this. She starred deep into his eyes, hoping to find something of the man who had raised her still in there.

Nina could no longer hold herself up, but she had to. She needed to be strong now, she felt that. If she gave in, dad would not. She pressed her bottom against the slightly splintery wood, forcing her upper body forward, arms extended far behind her back. This position relieved the pain in her legs and feet a bit and made breathing easier at the cost of more agony in her hands. She still looked into fathers’ eyes.

“Fine”, he finally said, then looked at his watch, “One more hour, then we’ll take you down.”

 

[Deleted member 15138]

Wonderful story.

 

[lukash1296]

Section 7 - Suffering

Noooo! I can’t take another hour of this! How long am I even up here? It seemed like an eternity, but she was pretty sure it had not been more than twenty minutes. How shall I bear an hour of this? Not that she had much of a choice. She had to take it. The cross forced it upon her. There were only three possibilities: She could endure it, she could die, or she could go insane. Nina didn’t want to die, nor to go insane. Hence, suffer she would. And at least fathers’ words meant that she would be taken down.

The torment in her hands was too much, therefore she rose fully up again, hovered before the cross in the cold, only her hands and feet touching the wood. Looked down onto the men. Both still watched closely, but she could sense them getting tired.

“As much fun as it is to watch your daughter suffer”, John said, “I’m going to get home into my bed.”

“Fine by me”, dad replied, “Taking her down shouldn’t be too hard. I can do it alone, I think. Otherwise I’m gonna call you.”

“Okay, then good night you two.” He grinned up at her cross, then walked past it, taking out the keys to his car. The idiot would drive home, drunk as he was. She almost wished him to rush into a tree and die. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure what to think about her now being alone with father. It made the situation yet somehow stranger and even though John hadn’t been reliable, dad wasn’t either right now. She would somehow prefer two drunken fools to one when it came to handle the remainder of her crucifixion.

A car engine started near, though it could as well be in another world. For Nina, only the cross existed now. It was her entire world, in a twisted, wicked contortion to what that phrase usually meant.

The misery was growing too strong again and Nina sunk back down into her bonds. Carefully she rested her head on her breast, blonde hair blocking her view. More to live the experience than for any other reason. She noticed how unsightly her legs were parted and pressed her knees together. At least until her muscles protested.

She loved and disliked how she was on display. She adored the cold night air moving over the film of sweat covering her exposed body. She liked and hated the burning of her muscles caused by her position on the cross. However, she deeply despised the anguish the screws were causing, there was nothing erotically in this sharp pain.

She noticed steps and looked up to see father leaving. What is he…? No, he can’t! Immediately she pushed her feet against the screws there, pulled with her arms at the ones through her wrists, rose as fast as she possibly could, terror overruling torture for a short moment. Desperately the sucked in her breath and then shouted out: “Dad! What are you doing? Where are you going?”

He didn’t stop but answered: “I have to take a shit. I’m gonna be back soon, sweetheart.”

Nina watched him leave, feeling dumb. She had caused herself burning pains for nothing, it seemed. Though she was wary as well. Will he really come back? Or will he forget me in his jag?

Therefore, she took some deep breaths before she settled back down again and waited, letting out some agonized whimpers in the process. The terrible torture of the screws made it impossible to measure time, meaning she had no idea how long dad was gone. The only thing she could do was count how many times she had risen to breathe and fallen back down again.

When she reached ten, Nina was pretty sure that he had just fallen asleep or forgotten her. She dug her feet into the wood at bit more and raised up the highest she was able to, then cried out for father. There was no response. Again, she shouted, frightened. He had forgotten her. She could not believe it. Yes, he was drunk and yes it was late, but still, how could dad forget her while she was goddamn crucified?

She started to cry for help, but of course nobody heard her.

Her legs could no longer support her, giving way under her. She fell hard, only stopped by the ropes and screws of her wrists. She let out another tormented howl, regretting it soon after when she had to raise up for air again.

Nina couldn’t understand it. Father had forgotten her, nailed to a cross. The pain was not fading away, it was getting incrementally harder to bear. The seconds seemed to pass like hours. Slowly she also felt the cold getting back to her. She had not really felt the brisk wind since her whipping had started, the fire of pain had outshined it. Now she was all too aware that she was out naked at night for what must have been a few hours in the maybe 10 degree this cool autumn night offered. It was not cold enough to freeze to death, fortunately, but it added to her already unbearable anguish.

Muscles slowly got weaker, protested every move. Soon I will feel what it is like to have cramps on the cross. She didn’t look forward to it.

Her backside, hurt from the beating, started to complain about its constant grating against the rough wood of the upright. Her body was criticizing her mind. She had to warm herself, wrap at least her arms around her body, but she could not. Her muscles wanted her to find a position where they were not this stressed, wanted to finally relax, but she could not. Her wrists and feet were crying that they were hurt, that she had to stop using them to hold herself upright when there were giant spikes driven through them, that she had to remove the screws and nurture the wounds, but she could not.

All Nina could do was suffer this incredibly agony, the most excruciating method of execution mankind had ever devised, the exact torment she had fantasized about for half her life, the exact torment she had grown to hate now, cursing her former self. How could she have taken any pleasure from these fantasies?

And yet it was also a fascinating experience, even excitingly so. These same feelings she’d felt when fantasizing or tying herself up were there, probably even stronger than normally, but they seemed so incredibly weak against the mountain of agony she had to endure. That she did endure, somehow.

She was standing on her pierced feet again when the first cramp hit her right lower leg. The sudden spasm drove her poor foot against the screw, grated bones on metal. Nina managed to cried out in torment before her foot gave away. Her fall caused wrists to hit screws again when she stopped with an abrupt jolt, her arms as far extended down as they could. The seizure left her howling on the cross, screaming for help that did not come.

The hours passed like centuries and the cross became her entire world. The convulsions came in shorter and shorter intervals. Nina could not take it any longer when she noticed dawn finally breaking. At this point she didn’t care. If I could just die the endless pain will finally end. The unbearable agony will become bearable in heaven.

But the crucifixion had just begun. Criminals could live for days nailed to their crosses. Her tormenters would surely give Nina something to drink so she could suffer for even longer. The mercy of dehydration would not be granted to her, she would dance on this gruesome device until finally none of her muscles would react. Only then would she be allowed to painfully suffocate. Where were the soldiers? Shouldn’t they guard her, so that she couldn’t be freed, so that she would have to hold on until the end? I guess it doesn’t really matter. They nailed me up in such a remote place that nobody will come to save me. I’m going to die here. If only death could come soon.

The strange fantasy faded as Nina wound in another spasm. She stretched her poor body as far to the right as the screws allowed, trying to get a cramp in her left leg to vanish, crying in anguish all the while. Suddenly a snap, then she fell a bit before coming to yet another cruel halt. What had happened?

Looking up, she saw that the rope holding her crosspiece to the upright had torn and the loose coils were now slowly sliding down the post. Now only a single large screw supported the beam, allowing it to turn a bit to either side. It was now tilted to the right and so was her whole body, her right wrist a good bit lower than her left one, bum hanging completely on the right side of the upright, feet rotated a little bit on their cruel spikes.

The construction is giving in. As I feared when they led me into the yard and I saw it for the first time.

This position made it even harder to breathe. Nina tried to raise up again and failed, her hands not getting enough support. She panicked. I’m going to choke like that! Because of a simple construction failure!

Nina trashed against the nails, tried to find any support. Her arms began to spasm, both at the same time. The agony was excruciating, and she could not even alleviate it by crying out loud. She didn’t have the breath for this. Finally, she managed to get the patibulum somewhat level again by pulling with all her strength on the screw through her left wrist. Carefully she started to raise up, cautious not to lose her balance again. Now she could breathe somewhat freely again and inhaled deep gulps of air, now too weak to scream.

She looked up to see the sun rising above the house, shining onto her exposed body, finally warming it. Where was father? She tried to shout for help but didn’t manage anything louder than a whisper. She hoped he would come soon. She was not fit enough to endure it much longer, especially as she now had to keep balance between her wrists. She was not sure she would be able to get up another time if she happened to hang tilted again.

It was inevitable, of course. While the sun rose higher her power faded and Nina hung down again, this time tilted to the left side.

Maybe If I just rest my arms for a bit... Breathing was difficult. She pressed up again on pierced legs but didn’t really raise. All she ended up with was pushing her body further away to the left. She tried to pull with her arms, but the muscles did not react. Nina panicked, did not get enough air. Trashed around, grated screws against bones, did not care for the intolerable torment she was causing herself. It didn’t matter. She was too weak to get out of this position. Breathed slowly, weakly. How much longer would she last like this? Not long.

There was still no sign of dad waking up from his alcoholic slumber.

So, this is how my life will end. Not what I expected. I did finally live out my fantasy only to be consumed by it. How fitting.

Nina closed her eyes, a tear rolling down her cheek.

 

[lukash1296]

Thank you for all of your positive feedback so far.

I would be especially interrested in what you think about screws instead of nails for crucifixion?
My idea here was basically as Charles told: “Screws, they are also used to connect things. We basically don’t use any nails anymore, because screws are just that much easier to handle. They can be easily screwed in and out."
Whenever connecting something during house or garden work, I basically always used screws, almost never nails.

Nevertheless, I can understand the notion that nails belong to an execution by crucifixion because of the roman roots, especially since I personally usually prefer middle age or fantasy settings to modern ones. However, screws seem to fit a modern setting quite well and are therefore very underrepresented in my opinion (I think I recall one story and maybe a few renderings). This idea was in fact what motivated the story in the first place.

PS: This is not where the story ends but I will keep you suspended until tomorrow before posting the finale.

 

[crumera]

Screws thread would be very damaging to bones if you press bones against it, nerves arent pinched but are more likely to get cut.
Also they work a bit like a drill going in thru flesh and bone-> more damage to tissue, bones and nerves to begin with. maybe quicker death-> more room for blood to flow thru the flesh grinded by the screws thread

Excellent story BTW

 

[ctcua]

I work using both and while screws hold much better, it's not a great idea to use screws on muscle or tissue. It's not so much that it would hurt more going in but screws would literally tear up the flesh and muscle which would not seal around the screw, causing a great loss of blood. Because we are talking about flesh and not wood, the tear-out would be greater and the wound larger causing a possible pull out of the limbs. Also, it's hard to find screws, unlike nails, with a large enough head, so you would have to use wood for a washer.

 

[thehangingtree]

Thank you for all of your positive feedback so far.

I would be especially interrested in what you think about screws instead of nails for crucifixion?
My idea here was basically as Charles told: “Screws, they are also used to connect things. We basically don’t use any nails anymore, because screws are just that much easier to handle. They can be easily screwed in and out."
Whenever connecting something during house or garden work, I basically always used screws, almost never nails.

Nevertheless, I can understand the notion that nails belong to an execution by crucifixion because of the roman roots, especially since I personally usually prefer middle age or fantasy settings to modern ones. However, screws seem to fit a modern setting quite well and are therefore very underrepresented in my opinion (I think I recall one story and maybe a few renderings). This idea was in fact what motivated the story in the first place.

PS: This is not where the story ends but I will keep you suspended until tomorrow before posting the finale.

Large screws often have several inches of a smooth shank towards the head of the screw. Nina will survive if her father remembers what he has done to her...

I've thought of doing this but am pleased you have done so!!!

 

[Deleted member 15138]

I also think screws are not the real classic method. i also find nails more spectacular.

 

[Deleted member 15138]

Nina will survive if her father remembers what he has done to her...

That's medically impossible. I only love Fantasies if they stay realistic. No matter if its a story, a picture or a vid.