Dorothy’s mom has the kids and Jimmy has gone to a bar. She put on a cute little night and goes to bed early. She rarely gets a quiet evening and dozes off. Little does Dorothy know her husband is having a hot affair with a girlfriend. Not only that he is mob boss and has powerful friends. He doesn’t want to divorce Dorothy. He has darker plans for her.
Dorothy is wakened by men breaking into her bedroom. In a flash Dorothy’s hands are tied behind her back. Her panties are ripped off and stuffed into her mouth. Her ankles are bound and she is carried from the house and tossed in the back of a panel van. She is afraid the men are going rape her. The men have worse plans for Dorothy. Twenty minutes later the van stops. With Dorothy laying bound on the bare metal floor the back doors are opened. The men untie her ankles and pull her out of the van. They pull her panties from her mouth but caution her not to call out for help.
“Where are we” Dorothy asks. One tells her they are at Howley Hill. Dorothy says “Why are we at the ruins?”
“We aren’t at the ruins. We are at the golf club” he says.
“I don’t play golf” Dorothy protests.
As they lead her to the club house they tell Dorothy they have something else in mind for her. Wearing only the sheer nightie she is led through the club house. Before she is brought out the rear of the building two men in Roman soldier outfits come up to Dorothy and ask the men if she is the ‘star of the show’. They nod and the soldiers take Dorothy’s arms and escort her out to golf course side of the club house. Dorothy’s eyes widen as she is brought to a cross lying on the grass before her.
There are people standing near the cross. They are dressed more richly than I have in my wardrobe. I see my husband clinging to some pretty woman in a bright red dress. I cry out “What are you doing with her? What is going on here?”
“Well, Dorothy, she is going to be my wife after you die crucified.”
“Crucified? Me?” I cry out. “Why would you do that to me?”
“She is younger, wealthier, and a much better fuck than you ever were. Gentlemen, get Dorothy ready for the cross” he sneers.
This cannot be happening to me! My husband is groping some bitch ordering me to be crucified! I can believe he is doing this and pray this is a gross joke. I feel one of the men untie the halter of my nightie and lowering the gown exposing me to people I don’t even know.
I stand naked next to the cross surrounded by mostly strangers. One of the soldiers is untying my wrists. I whimper “You can’t do this to me. You will murder me!”
“I prefer to say ‘executed’. Quit crying about dying, bitch. Your days aren’t there anymore.”
I am pleading for them to let me go but they drag me over the cross. I scream “Don’t do this to me! I won’t tell anyone!”
The more I beg the more enthused everyone gets. I am fighting for my life and the spectators and my damn husband and his whore seem to enjoy my plight even more. The soldiers stretch me over the cross. Oh, damn, they are going to nail me to this wood!
My right arm is held to the cross. I barely notice the spike press against my left wrist until a single blow of the mallet drives the spike though my arm and into the cross. It takes two more hits to secure my arm to the cross. The pain is so great I don’t even remember my husband and that cunt are watching me!
I beg they don’t drive the next spike into my arm. That gains me nothing as the mallet drives the spike through my wrist.
They will mock me later that I pissed like the ‘worthless whore’ they have deemed that I am…
-Dorothy Brown
Dorothy is wakened by men breaking into her bedroom. In a flash Dorothy’s hands are tied behind her back. Her panties are ripped off and stuffed into her mouth. Her ankles are bound and she is carried from the house and tossed in the back of a panel van. She is afraid the men are going rape her. The men have worse plans for Dorothy. Twenty minutes later the van stops. With Dorothy laying bound on the bare metal floor the back doors are opened. The men untie her ankles and pull her out of the van. They pull her panties from her mouth but caution her not to call out for help.
“Where are we” Dorothy asks. One tells her they are at Howley Hill. Dorothy says “Why are we at the ruins?”
“We aren’t at the ruins. We are at the golf club” he says.
“I don’t play golf” Dorothy protests.
As they lead her to the club house they tell Dorothy they have something else in mind for her. Wearing only the sheer nightie she is led through the club house. Before she is brought out the rear of the building two men in Roman soldier outfits come up to Dorothy and ask the men if she is the ‘star of the show’. They nod and the soldiers take Dorothy’s arms and escort her out to golf course side of the club house. Dorothy’s eyes widen as she is brought to a cross lying on the grass before her.
There are people standing near the cross. They are dressed more richly than I have in my wardrobe. I see my husband clinging to some pretty woman in a bright red dress. I cry out “What are you doing with her? What is going on here?”
“Well, Dorothy, she is going to be my wife after you die crucified.”
“Crucified? Me?” I cry out. “Why would you do that to me?”
“She is younger, wealthier, and a much better fuck than you ever were. Gentlemen, get Dorothy ready for the cross” he sneers.
This cannot be happening to me! My husband is groping some bitch ordering me to be crucified! I can believe he is doing this and pray this is a gross joke. I feel one of the men untie the halter of my nightie and lowering the gown exposing me to people I don’t even know.
I stand naked next to the cross surrounded by mostly strangers. One of the soldiers is untying my wrists. I whimper “You can’t do this to me. You will murder me!”
“I prefer to say ‘executed’. Quit crying about dying, bitch. Your days aren’t there anymore.”
I am pleading for them to let me go but they drag me over the cross. I scream “Don’t do this to me! I won’t tell anyone!”
The more I beg the more enthused everyone gets. I am fighting for my life and the spectators and my damn husband and his whore seem to enjoy my plight even more. The soldiers stretch me over the cross. Oh, damn, they are going to nail me to this wood!
My right arm is held to the cross. I barely notice the spike press against my left wrist until a single blow of the mallet drives the spike though my arm and into the cross. It takes two more hits to secure my arm to the cross. The pain is so great I don’t even remember my husband and that cunt are watching me!
I beg they don’t drive the next spike into my arm. That gains me nothing as the mallet drives the spike through my wrist.
They will mock me later that I pissed like the ‘worthless whore’ they have deemed that I am…
-Dorothy Brown
