Sunday, September 9, 2018–Day 249. Gravity really didn’t care if she was crucified on a tall cross where the all the crowd all had a good view of her suffering , or at eye level where her tormentors could stare closely into her pain-racked face , or nailed on a cross even lower with her feet so tantalizingly close to ground. She would dance and writhe in agony with the same intensity no matter what the height of the cross. The lower cross did, however, have one distinct advantage–it put the whore’s mouth at just the right level. Her mouth, throat and face would be the target of a steady stream of male tormentors who would brutally use her mouth as an appealing oral fuck-hole. As she gagged and choked, man after man would shoot his load of sticky cum deep into her mouth and throat or spray it all over her degraded tear-streaked face. A few of the more perverse men would also use her face and mouth for baser purposes, spraying her with their warm liquid amber offerings. If she was reluctant to show the proper degree of enthusiasm in these endeavors, she could be slapped, her hair could be painfully tugged and twisted, her throat choked until she complied. And if she was foolish enough to think that she could use her teeth to show her rebellious nature, they told her what she would be subjected to if she choose to pursue that reckless course of action. Most wisely, if reluctantly, agreed that complying was better than having her teeth knocked out, her tongue ripped out by the roots, having her eyes blinded and her nipples, clit, fingers and toes slowly burnt off, being raped vaginally and anally with white hot irons before having her belly sliced open. And so she complied repeatedly, the cum lewdly dangling off her face and lips and running down her naked body as she endured the endless agony of her crucifixion. Entitled "The Reluctant Fellatrix".