The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission in 43 chapters

[Deleted member 16639]

Dear Crux-Friends
Today I am starting to publish my first novel. Of course it deals with crucifixions, but there is also quite „normal“ action in it. I do not know if you will like it. I just have to let it happen. The novel has 43 chapters, each one about 5 pages written in WORD.
I hope you will like the story.
Greetings to you all
Sassi

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission – 1

April 24, 2080:

Christa Weber followed the sign for the old pilgrimway of Murscheid. It was the end of April and the sun was shining. The year 2080 was to be a very sunny year, meteorologists had predicted.
Soon she reached the path. A narrow pass led through the forest, bounded on the right and left by trees. The crowns arched over the way. It looked as if the wide path led through a living, green cathedral.

This way never seen a hover car driving by, one could see that immediately. This road looked like Christa was in 1980 instead of 2080. Here it looked like a hundred years ago. Christa felt awe. Even the way to the finish was awesome.
She strode forward with wide strides. She wore blue jeans and a mint green T-shirt that matched the green color of her eyes. Her black hair was just shoulder length. There were a few stray freckles in her fair-skinned face. On her feet she wore flat sandals with thin straps. They looked a bit like the shoes of the Romans, who once used to march through the forests of Germania. Christa carried a small backpack on her back.

She had just turned eighteen and spent an extended four-week vacation before she would start studying. She stayed in a small guesthouse in a nearby village and traveled daily to visit Catholic churches.
Christa collected churches. She photographed them from outside and inside. Her special interest was in the crucifixes. She photographed them all, including those she found along the wayside and at roadcrossings.

Christa looked around. She was all alone on the pilgrim path. She was not surprised. She had read that the old path of Murscheid was hardly known to pilgrims, nor was the monastery. Almost no one used this path since the time of the Kaiser. It was a miracle that the road was not overgrown.

Perhaps, Christa thought, there are people who keep the path open, cutting back hedges and shrubs from time to time.

She picked up the map and looked at her route. Half a kilometer to the first destination of the day - the monastery church of Obermurscheid. The monastery was hardly known. Most guides did not mention it. Christa had read about it by chance on the Internet. She had seen pictures and these had done it to her.

On the one hand, the church was built in Romanesque style of sandstone, which she found interesting and on the other hand, she had seen a photo of the life-size crucifix in the monastery church. The lifelike portrayal immediately captivated her. This crucifix had to be incorporated into her photo collection. For that reason alone, the visit to the monastery in Obermurscheid was worthwhile.

Christa stopped. She looked around again. There was nobody to see. She was alone on the old, forgotten pilgrim path.
"Actually, I could already do it here ..." she murmured. "It would be nice to walk the rest of the way like this." Once again she looked around. No one to see. Should she dare? Why not? Finally she followed a pilgrim path. There were people who made this pilgrimage that way.

Christa took all her courage and took off her backpack. Then she bent down and opened the buckles of her sandals. She stepped out of the flat sandals and put her bare feet on the soft forest floor. Then she put her shoes in her backpack and took it back on. Finished!

She started walking, full of joy and with a pounding heart. She enjoyed the cool, soft forest floor under her bare soles.
I should do that more often, she mused. It feels so nice!
But as always, walking barefoot, she felt she was doing something forbidden. That made her nervous and gave her a kick on the other hand. To do forbidden things was exciting.

She was always a little scared of getting caught, even though it was not forbidden to walk around without shoes - at least in the woods. But in the church ... Christa was not sure.
But the churches had done that to her.

The pilgrim's path made a turn. An old signpost pointed to the left. "Kloster Obermurscheid" (Monastery of Obermurscheid) was written on it. Christa turned left. After a hundred meters she stood in front of the monastery. It stood on a vast meadow, a collection of medieval sandstone buildings, of which the church was the largest. Everything was surrounded by a high sandstone wall. That was Christas destination.

Slowly and without haste, she strode toward it. The two wings of a wrought-iron gate in the wall stood wide open. She used a path filled with small gravelstones. She felt the small, angular stones under her bare soles as she strode toward the portal of the monastery church. The huge wooden doors loomed up in front of her.

Christa had to think back to the time when she was just twelve years old. At that time, she had begun collecting Catholic churches in her own special way. She had discovered an old black-and-white photo in a book about pilgrimages she had borrowed from the library, showing a young girl kneeling barefoot in front of a crucifix in a pilgrimage church. The picture had done to her immediately, Christa could not say why. It made a string in her sound.

Christa had always liked to walk barefoot, but this photo in the Pilgrim Book made a difference inside her. She wanted to experience something similar, like the young girl in the picture. She wanted to kneel in front of the crucifix in a church - barefoot! This thought never left her. As soon as she got up in the morning, her mind circled around it.

After all, one day she took her bicycle and drove some kilometers away from her hometown to a place where nobody knew her and she dared to do it. She had parked the bike on the wheel stand of the cemetery and had gone to the Catholic church of the place. She had taken off her shoes and socks outside the front door. She had a strong palpitation when she did that. It was as if she were doing something forbidden.

Actually, it could not be anything forbidden. In the book on pilgrimages, she had read that there were people who made a pilgrimage barefoot. To take of the footwear, she read, meant a gesture of piety and reverence. And it was a sign of penitence and humility.
So Christa did enter the church bare-footed, full of humility and subservience. She had felt the cold, smooth floor under her bare soles and an excitement had come over her that she had never felt before. To walk barefoot through this great church exited her. She had walked on bare soles to the big crucifix and had knelt down and prayed.
Her fantasies that she had had for some time had gone through her mind.
From that time on she played her little game again and again, until today.

Christa opened the portal. She entered the church. She felt exactly as she did six years ago. She was a little nervous and anxious and she was excited. The sunlight was thrown from the high windows in all colors over the dark wooden benches. The checkered stone floor also glowed brightly.

Christa entered. She felt the cool, smooth floor under her bare soles. She stopped to let everything take effect.
I'm here, she thought. I, Christa Weber, eighteen years old, stand barefoot in this monastery church. I'll walk on bare ground with my bare feet. I will look at the crucifix and take pictures. I do not wear shoes.

She started walking. She would photograph the church, the entire interior. Most important to her was the crucifix. She collected crucifixes. On her laptop she had hundreds of shots of various crucifixion groups. She liked the lifelike depictions best.

As she walked barefoot through the dim nave, Christa let her imagination run free. In her mind cinema, she was a poor child who had no shoes, an orphan who came to church to pray, to show God her penitence and her humility. She felt submissive.

A new little movie began in Christas head cinema. Now she was the girl who was picked. During the mass a few girls always had to depict living crucifixes on the right and on the left. There was a plan, and according to this plan, some girls from the orphanage came every Sunday to be tied to large wooden crosses on the wall of the church. They had to endure on the cross during the whole mass and not only that! There were two masses in a row because the church could not accommodate all the people of the place at once. So the chosen girls had to stand on the cross during two masses.

That was one of Christa's favorite fantasies, even today. Even more than ever. She always thought up new kinds of possible bondage and reveled in her fantasies of being crucified. Preferably naked - totally naked. This gave the idea of her personal crucifixion the right spice. How I would like to experience that, Christa thought.

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 2

Christa was a little ashamed about her fantasies, but she could not help it. As she walked around barefoot in the church taking pictures, more movies were running in her head cinema. After taking several photographs of the crucifix, Christa placed the camera in a pew and made several selfies with the self-timer, as she stood barefoot in the church aisle. Then she put the camera away and stood again in front of the life-size crucifix.

She looked at it fascinated. She looked closely at the crucified body, the outstretched arms, the flat stomach, the knees slightly bent, the bare feet standing on a pedestal leaning down. The Jesus Corpus was naked except for a loincloth. Jesus was nailed through his hands and feet. Big nails were driven through his hands and through his feet standing side by side.

Christa shuddered. The sight of the nails in the hands and feet of the crucifix figures made her shiver every time. She thought it was scary. No, that was nothing for her! She did not want to be executed. She just wanted to be crucified, tied to the cross with ropes and then endure as long as possible on the cross. It was allowed to hurt. It would be painful over time, she knew that. That even pleased her. That was part of it. But no nails! No thanks! Please only ropes or maybe leather "handcuffs".

Christa dropped to her knees. She prayed silently. She was very absorbed in her actions. She did not perceive anything around her. She was Christa, the bare-footed girl. She had come to this church barefoot to pray. I am barefoot. I do not wear shoes. I took off my shoes. This is a gesture of reverence. This is a sign of my penitence. I am penitent. I would repent at any time for the sins of the world. I would really like to do that.

She lowered her head. I am humble, she thougt.
"Do you repent your sins in a prayer?"
Christa winced. She turned around. Behind her stood a tall nun. She had not heard the woman come into the church. The sister was about forty years old.
She smiled pleasantly and nodded in the direction of Christa's bare feet: "That there is such a thing today! I have not seen that for a long time. A girl who goes barefoot to church to pray. "

Christa did not know what to answer. She felt taken by surprise. She could only smile shyly. "Did you walked the old pilgrim path?" the nun asked. She looked at Christa's bare feet. "In the past, many did." She sighed. "Yes ... earlier ..." A wistful move played around the nun's lips. "Everything used to be different. There were people still faithful and penitent who came to the monastery church."

She looked at Christa, who had now risen. "Barefoot in a pilgrim has a special meaning, several meanings even. Removing his footwear is a gesture of piety and deference, but also of penitence and certainly a sign of humility. Also a sign of subservience. Those who go to church barefoot want to show that they had come to pray obediently and humbly and that they want to repent.

The nun looked at Christa very intensely: "Repent, for sins. Not only your own, but also the sins of the world. It's like that, young woman! Believe me!"
"I believe you," Christa said simply.
The nun smiled at her: "That's good. What's your name, my child?"
"Christa," Christa answered.
"I am sister Zita." She smiled even wider. "Named after the holy Zita of Lucca. Do you know her, my child?"

"Oh yes," Christa answered. "Zita was born in 1212 and when she was twelve, she came as a servant girl to the home of a wealthy family. She was modest and pious. She only wore simple clothes and always walked barefoot. She took care of the poor of the city and did a lot of good things for them."

"That's right," said the nun. "Zita was canonized in 1696, five years before our monastery was built. It was consecrated to her. Zita was the model of the sisters who moved into the monastery. They vowed to follow Jesus and repent for the sins of the world. They also did that regularly. Earlier ..."
Sister Zita looked wistful again. "Not so much today. Even the sisters hardly do it anymore. Certainly not the pilgrims."

She looked at Christa: "You would be willing to repent of humanity? How the Lord did it?" Christa nodded silently. She did not understand exactly what Sister Zita meant, but she was certainly humble and penitent. That's why she went to church.

Sister Zita made a gesture that encompassed the entire church space: "This is not the real church of yore. It was built in 1884. Previously the pilgrims prayed in the chapel of Zita. It lies farther back on the site behind a high wall and is no longer visited today. I have a key to the chapel. If you want, dear Christa, I can let you in there. Maybe you want to take a look at it?" The nun looked again at Christas bare feet.

"Yes, gladly," Christa said. "You are very friendly."
Sister Zita smiled at her. "To a girl like you, I have to be friendly. Come, Christa!" The nun turned and walked to the church portal. Christa followed her. She wondered why she did not hear the clack of shoes. Sister Zita seemed to float over the smooth floor. As the nun took a few steps, Christa saw why she was walking so quietly: Sister Zita was not wearing shoes. Naked feet flashed out from under the black nun's habit. Sister Zita was barefoot like Christa. The nun seemed to be walking on bare feet for some time, because the soles of her feet were dark, almost black.

The sister led Christa through the monastery park to the very back, far away, from the big monastery church. At the far end of the site was a massive wall at least four meters high. It looked like the wall of a medieval knight's castle, like something meant to withstand a raging army of battering rams. There was a small solid-wooden door in this wall, just big enough to let a person through.
The nun took out a keychain and unlocked the door. Behind it was a small yard and there stood an old small chapel with an extension. It was built directly on the wall of the monastery estate.

"This is the original Zita chapel," explained the sister. "Here a truly repentant person can repent for the sins of the world." She took an ancient key from the robe and unlocked the door of the chapel. With a gesture, she invited Christa to come in. The nun closed the door behind her. She peeked outside for a moment before closing the door. Then she put the key in the lock and locked it.

"So nobody bothers you," she said to Christa. "Of course I'll open the door on the spot if you wish. Please come." The nun walked between the rows of pews to the front wall of the small church. Her bare feet did not make the slightest noise on the smooth cool stone floor.
"There is a greater way to repent for the sins of the world," said the sister. "The first sisters who entered the newly-founded monastery went this way regularly." She led Christa to a large wooden cross lying horizontally on the floor. "This is the way," said Sister Zita.

Christa stared at the big cross. It was not lying on the ground, she realized. It lay on bricked pedestals at about knee height. At the back she saw an iron crank stick out. Sister Zita noticed her look.
"That's to raise the cross," she explained. "The crank operates an apparatus to set up and lower the cross." She stepped to the cross and ran her hand over the smooth wood: "Here you can truly repent and show real humility. By following the Lord and repenting for the sins of the world. Not only in prayer, but bodily on the cross." She looked at Christa. "Not everyone is pious enough to take it, but since you came barefoot, my child, I can imagine you might want to do it."

 

[Barbaria1]

The nun closed the door behind her. She peeked outside for a moment before closing the door. Then she put the key in the lock and locked it.

Uh oh ... that's probably not a good sign ...

"So nobody bothers you," she said to Christa. "Of course I'll open the door on the spot if you wish. Please come."

I'm not sure I would trust her to do that ...

Great start to your novel ...

 

[thehangingtree]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 2

Christa was a little ashamed about her fantasies, but she could not help it. As she walked around barefoot in the church taking pictures, more movies were running in her head cinema. After taking several photographs of the crucifix, Christa placed the camera in a pew and made several selfies with the self-timer, as she stood barefoot in the church aisle. Then she put the camera away and stood again in front of the life-size crucifix.

She looked at it fascinated. She looked closely at the crucified body, the outstretched arms, the flat stomach, the knees slightly bent, the bare feet standing on a pedestal leaning down. The Jesus Corpus was naked except for a loincloth. Jesus was nailed through his hands and feet. Big nails were driven through his hands and through his feet standing side by side.

Christa shuddered. The sight of the nails in the hands and feet of the crucifix figures made her shiver every time. She thought it was scary. No, that was nothing for her! She did not want to be executed. She just wanted to be crucified, tied to the cross with ropes and then endure as long as possible on the cross. It was allowed to hurt. It would be painful over time, she knew that. That even pleased her. That was part of it. But no nails! No thanks! Please only ropes or maybe leather "handcuffs".

Christa dropped to her knees. She prayed silently. She was very absorbed in her actions. She did not perceive anything around her. She was Christa, the bare-footed girl. She had come to this church barefoot to pray. I am barefoot. I do not wear shoes. I took off my shoes. This is a gesture of reverence. This is a sign of my penitence. I am penitent. I would repent at any time for the sins of the world. I would really like to do that.

She lowered her head. I am humble, she thougt.
"Do you repent your sins in a prayer?"
Christa winced. She turned around. Behind her stood a tall nun. She had not heard the woman come into the church. The sister was about forty years old.
She smiled pleasantly and nodded in the direction of Christa's bare feet: "That there is such a thing today! I have not seen that for a long time. A girl who goes barefoot to church to pray. "

Christa did not know what to answer. She felt taken by surprise. She could only smile shyly. "Did you walked the old pilgrim path?" the nun asked. She looked at Christa's bare feet. "In the past, many did." She sighed. "Yes ... earlier ..." A wistful move played around the nun's lips. "Everything used to be different. There were people still faithful and penitent who came to the monastery church."

She looked at Christa, who had now risen. "Barefoot in a pilgrim has a special meaning, several meanings even. Removing his footwear is a gesture of piety and deference, but also of penitence and certainly a sign of humility. Also a sign of subservience. Those who go to church barefoot want to show that they had come to pray obediently and humbly and that they want to repent.

The nun looked at Christa very intensely: "Repent, for sins. Not only your own, but also the sins of the world. It's like that, young woman! Believe me!"
"I believe you," Christa said simply.
The nun smiled at her: "That's good. What's your name, my child?"
"Christa," Christa answered.
"I am sister Zita." She smiled even wider. "Named after the holy Zita of Lucca. Do you know her, my child?"

"Oh yes," Christa answered. "Zita was born in 1212 and when she was twelve, she came as a servant girl to the home of a wealthy family. She was modest and pious. She only wore simple clothes and always walked barefoot. She took care of the poor of the city and did a lot of good things for them."

"That's right," said the nun. "Zita was canonized in 1696, five years before our monastery was built. It was consecrated to her. Zita was the model of the sisters who moved into the monastery. They vowed to follow Jesus and repent for the sins of the world. They also did that regularly. Earlier ..."
Sister Zita looked wistful again. "Not so much today. Even the sisters hardly do it anymore. Certainly not the pilgrims."

She looked at Christa: "You would be willing to repent of humanity? How the Lord did it?" Christa nodded silently. She did not understand exactly what Sister Zita meant, but she was certainly humble and penitent. That's why she went to church.

Sister Zita made a gesture that encompassed the entire church space: "This is not the real church of yore. It was built in 1884. Previously the pilgrims prayed in the chapel of Zita. It lies farther back on the site behind a high wall and is no longer visited today. I have a key to the chapel. If you want, dear Christa, I can let you in there. Maybe you want to take a look at it?" The nun looked again at Christas bare feet.

"Yes, gladly," Christa said. "You are very friendly."
Sister Zita smiled at her. "To a girl like you, I have to be friendly. Come, Christa!" The nun turned and walked to the church portal. Christa followed her. She wondered why she did not hear the clack of shoes. Sister Zita seemed to float over the smooth floor. As the nun took a few steps, Christa saw why she was walking so quietly: Sister Zita was not wearing shoes. Naked feet flashed out from under the black nun's habit. Sister Zita was barefoot like Christa. The nun seemed to be walking on bare feet for some time, because the soles of her feet were dark, almost black.

The sister led Christa through the monastery park to the very back, far away, from the big monastery church. At the far end of the site was a massive wall at least four meters high. It looked like the wall of a medieval knight's castle, like something meant to withstand a raging army of battering rams. There was a small solid-wooden door in this wall, just big enough to let a person through.
The nun took out a keychain and unlocked the door. Behind it was a small yard and there stood an old small chapel with an extension. It was built directly on the wall of the monastery estate.

"This is the original Zita chapel," explained the sister. "Here a truly repentant person can repent for the sins of the world." She took an ancient key from the robe and unlocked the door of the chapel. With a gesture, she invited Christa to come in. The nun closed the door behind her. She peeked outside for a moment before closing the door. Then she put the key in the lock and locked it.

"So nobody bothers you," she said to Christa. "Of course I'll open the door on the spot if you wish. Please come." The nun walked between the rows of pews to the front wall of the small church. Her bare feet did not make the slightest noise on the smooth cool stone floor.
"There is a greater way to repent for the sins of the world," said the sister. "The first sisters who entered the newly-founded monastery went this way regularly." She led Christa to a large wooden cross lying horizontally on the floor. "This is the way," said Sister Zita.

Christa stared at the big cross. It was not lying on the ground, she realized. It lay on bricked pedestals at about knee height. At the back she saw an iron crank stick out. Sister Zita noticed her look.
"That's to raise the cross," she explained. "The crank operates an apparatus to set up and lower the cross." She stepped to the cross and ran her hand over the smooth wood: "Here you can truly repent and show real humility. By following the Lord and repenting for the sins of the world. Not only in prayer, but bodily on the cross." She looked at Christa. "Not everyone is pious enough to take it, but since you came barefoot, my child, I can imagine you might want to do it."

Great story, Sassi!

 

[Eulalia]

This appeals to me a lot, brings back my strange desires and fantasies as a girl, wanting to go up to the altar to take communion barefoot and bar legged, but knew it would be frowned upon. I didn't know then what I know now about the effect it would have on the priest!

 

[Deleted member 16639]

This appeals to me a lot, brings back my strange desires and fantasies as a girl, wanting to go up to the altar to take communion barefoot and bar legged, but knew it would be frowned upon. I didn't know then what I know now about the effect it would have on the priest!

Very interesting to see, that others also wanted this! As a Girl I dreamed too to be barefoot in church and go barefoot to take communion.

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 3

Christa stood there and could not move. She could not speak. She stared at the big wooden cross. She could not take her eyes away from it.
"I can understand, if you shrink back, my child," said Sister Zita gently. "It's not easy to take that. It is difficult. Many people prefer a lighter kind of creed. They are not ready to take on such a hard thing."

She stepped to Christa and took her hand: "I'm not pushing you, my child. I just wanted to show you this. Here you have the opportunity to show true humility and penitence. But of course only if you really want it. I would never force you. It has to be voluntary. You have to indulge yourself. Otherwise it's useless."
Again she looked at Christas bare feet: "Because you walk barefoot, I thought ..." She left the sentence unfinished.

Christa still could not speak. She had such a hard heartbeat that she could not speak. To gain time, she approached the cross on bare soles and examined it. It was a big wooden cross. In the horizontal bar there were several holes right and left. There were also two holes in the vertical pole - about where the head of the crucified person would be. Below was a sloping down pedestal mounted in a kind of groove. Christa saw that one could move the pedestal up or down.

This pedestal was apparently new. It was not as dark as the big cross. It was a bit lighter. Maybe the old one had to be replaced, Christa thought. Maybe it was worn out because it can be moved up and down in this continuous groove. By the time it has probably become shaky and the nuns had to assemble a new one.

Sister Zita came next to her: "That's for adjusting, Christa. You can move the pedestal and then fix it. People are different in size. You can adjust the cross to the height of the person to be crucified. In ancient times, all the sisters of the Order were crucified to take the sins of the world and to pay for them. There were big and small sisters."

She sighed softly: "Today there are only a few of the sisters and very few pilgrims. Well ... there are hardly any pilgrims left. This place has been forgotten. The monastery is very remote. Hardly anyone comes here yet. We have only a few visitors."

The nun pointed at Christas bare feet: "One can bare more than the feet alone. One can put off everything to show that one is full of humility and ready to give oneself completely, that one does not cling to so worldly as fashionable clothes, that one is penitent and full of lowliness of heart.
Nudity is part of it, dear child. You have to give yourself naked and bare. This reinforces the humility and subservience. You have to let go of everything worldly and indulge yourself completely.
She took Christa by the arm. "How about, girl? Would you like to prove your devotion and atone for the sins of the world? The cross is ready. It's waiting for you."

Christa had to swallow hard before she could answer: "I think that would be a good idea." Her voice was raw with embarrassment. "How …?"
Sister Zita was visibly more cheerful: "This will work very fast, dear child. You undress completely and lay down on the cross. I mount the hand straps fittingly on the crossbeam and adjust the footboard appropriately. Then I'll tie you to the cross and crank up the cross until it's upright. Everything else happens by itself. You can feel your devotion and soon realize that it is not easy to endure. The longer you are crucified, the harder it is to endure."

The nun looked meaningfully at Christa: "The cross will make you humble, dear child. It will impose humility and submission on you and force you to obey. They will feel your penance, very clearly even. It is a very intense experience. You will feel that you actively repent. You will feel what you have taken. Even the shame that you will feel because your nakedness is a form of penance. It all works together. Take everything, girl. It will do your soul good."

"Yes," Christa said. Her heart might bang harder. She could hardly believe what was happening. It gave her a chance to make a dream come true. "How long …?"
"Oh, that's different," said Sister Zita. She took a walk around the cross. Her bare feet made no noise on the stone floor. "You can atone for as long as you want. I knew a sister who always repented for a whole day. She gladly took it upon herself and endured the agony of humility and devotion. For starters it should be at least for the duration of a mass, that is one hour. "

"One hour," Christa echoed. She had to swallow again. One hour! If she agreed, the sister would strap her to the cross for an hour. For a whole hour!
"One hour," Christa repeated. She felt the cool stone floor under her bare soles with an intensity like never before.

The nun came to her. "I know, one hour is a long time," she said. "But please bear in mind that you should repent. You should already feel what you are taking on. It should not be too easy. You will realize that it is not easy to endure a crucifixion. Over time, it becomes increasingly difficult to bear it. But you can not get away. You are inextricably linked to the cross and have to endure, no matter how hard it is for you.

Christa nodded. "Yes. Good. I ... I want it. Please ..."
Sister Zita smiled: "Wonderful! That's wonderful, my child! You made a very good decision. An hour, then?"
Christa nodded again. "Yes." At the same moment she scolded herself.
I could have asked for two hours.
But now she could not say another word.

The nun raised her arm and stroked gently over Christas cheek: "Then it should be. You are very brave, my child. Please remove your clothes completely. You can put everything in this pew to put it back on later. Take off everything. You should not touch the cross in chlothes. You have to be completely naked."

She smiled kindly at Christa: "The presentations in the churches are not quite right. That's just what they did then and kept it until today. There was no loincloth. In reality, the crucified were always completely naked. They were left nothing. This was part of the humiliation of the crucified, as well as the public display."

Sister Zita made an all-embracing gesture. "That's the only thing that does not happen here: you are not publicly displayed. If you are crucified, I will close the chapel so that no one will see you repenting in this special way. Maybe there are pilgrims and other visitors who would not understand that."

The nun sighed. "Actually, it would be more appropriate to take that kind of atonement in public and show that you are truly humble and accept everything that happens to you. That you are ready to submit fully to repentance. But that is no longer possible today, I'm afraid. Unfortunately!"

Christa felt hot and cold. Public display! She saw herself strapped to a cross in her head cinema outside on the meadows in front of the monastery. Naked and bare she hung there, visible to all wanderers who came by on the old pilgrim's path. Everyone would see her. Maybe they would take pictures of her. What an idea!

Christa walked to the pew that sister Zita had shown her and undressed. She had a fierce heart beating when she first took off her jeans and then the T-shirt and finally her panties. She looked down at herself.
I hope sister Zita does not see my piercing!
She was clean-shaven like all the young people nowadays, and the small chrome sparkling piercing in her clitoris foreskin was clearly visible. Would sister Zita complain about this? Maybe she kept the piercing for pagan jewelry?

Christa decided to let it happen. She turned and marched bravely to the cross. With a heavy heart beat, she looked at the beams of old dark wood.
I'll be right on that cross and tied to it, she thought. She was excited like never before.
I will be crucified!

 

[Barbaria1]

Christa felt hot and cold. Public display! She saw herself strapped to a cross in her head cinema outside on the meadows in front of the monastery. Naked and bare she hung there, visible to all wanderers who came by on the old pilgrim's path. Everyone would see her. Maybe they would take pictures of her. What an idea!

Love the idea of a mind cinema playing in the head ...

 

[Eulalia]

I think we met that in 'The Girl with no Name'? But it's a good conceit,
it works very well in this scene as Christa's fantasies begin to play.

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 4

Sister Zita made a welcoming gesture: "Come, dear Christa! Come closer! No fear! You'll do it, I know that. You are the right person! You can do it! Come! Lie down on the cross!"
With soft knees Christa stepped beside the cross. She was shaking with excitement. She breathed hard.

One hand grabbed her by the shoulder and stroked her reassuringly.
"You are excited, dear Christa, because you are about to follow the example of our Lord," said the nun. "Do not be afraid. You will endure it. The cross welcomes you with open arms. It will hold you and be a strong support to you. It will make you endure, one way or the other."

"Yes," Christa said. She stood next to the cross and settled on it. She sat down and then stretched out on it. She spread her arms. Her heartbeat was still increasing.
Sister Zita smiled down at her: "Well done, Christa. I'll tie you to the cross now." The nun brought two long threaded bolts with open leather cuffs at the front end. She put them right and left in the matching holes in the horizontal bar and screwed them on the bottom with large wing nuts.

Then she put Christa's left wrist in the leather cuff and tightened it. Then she did the same on the right side. Christa breathed hard. She fasted me! She fasted me on the cross!
She could not believe it. She was crucified! Truly crucified!
I really experience it! This is not a dream from which I will wake up right away! I am truly crucified!

Christa's hands were tied and the nun turned to the girl's feet. She stopped halfway there and looked down at Christa.
She saw the piercing! Christa tought. She saw it! What will happen now?
Christa got a little scared. Would sister Zita be annoyed? Finally, she had asked Christa to drop everything. Did jewelry belong to it? What if the sister refused to crucify Christa? If she loosened the handcuffs and sent Christa away?
Please do not! Christa prayed silently. I would like to experience it so much!

"You were pierced, Christa," said Sister Zita. "I can see it." She smiled meaningfully. "Did you know, dear child, that this is a symbol? On the one hand, it is a symbol of being pierced with nails and, on the other, it stands for the piercing of femininity. It is a sign of devotion. Did you know that?"

Christa shook her head. "I did not know that."
The nun smiled, "You did it unconscious, Christa. That's good. One question: Did you have a local anesthetic when they were pierced?"
"No," Christa replied. "I had it done without anaesthetization. I wanted to feel when I was pierced."

That was the truth. She deliberately refused the anesthetic because she wanted to feel exactly how they pierced her. It had been a sharp and at the same time horny pain. It had brought Christa a high-altitude flight. She did not tell the sister.

"No anaesthetization," said Sister Zita. "You took that without stun."
She went to Christa's feet, "I will now tie your feet." She ordered Christa to stretch her legs and shoved the pedestal under her soles and fasted it. Then she screwed a threaded bolt in a hole over the pedestal. In the front two leather straps hung on the bolt. Sister Zita put Christa's ankles in and strapped them tight.

Then she stood beside the cross and looked down at Christa. "It's time, Christa! I'll crank you upright. You will be crucified for an hour. You will experience what it feels like to follow the Lord in humility and devotion. "

She bent down to Christa: "You are ready to repent in humility and devotion, aren´t you?" "Yes," Christa said. "I am."
"Nice," the nun said . "The cross will make you humble. It will demand devotion from you, Christa, and it will truly make you suffer. You will understand what I mean when time passes. Oh yes, you will understand. You must be brave, my child!"

Sister Zita walked around the cross to the end where the crank was behind Christa's head. She started to turn the crank. There was a soft scraping noise and then the cross started to straighten up. It was amazingly fast.
Christa rose in the air. She was raised. It was an incredible feeling. It was a feeling sensation she had never experienced before.

The cross rose in the air until it stood exactly vertical. There was a small jerk, then it stood still and steady in the upright position. Christa heard sister Zita locking something behind her back. Then the nun came around the cross and stood in front of the crucified girl.

She allowed her eyes to pass over Christa's naked body.
"Naked as the Lord God created you," said the nun. "That's how it should be. So you should go to the cross and not otherwise. Through your nudity you show humility and devotion. You show that you are ready to endure the shame of your nakedness and to show openly that you have been physically and mentally exposed to repent for the sins of the world. Very good, Christa!"

Sister Zita smiled. "You are excited, I can see that. That's normal, believe me. You follow our Lord and it is quite right that you are a little bit exited about that. Do not worry.The excitement will pass and you will find to humility and dedication. You will feel submission and let go all defiance and arrogance. The cross trains you. You will experience it. "

The nun was still smiling. She looked at Christa on the cross with obvious pleasure.
"The cross is life," she said. "The cross is humility and submission. The cross carries us and is a solid support for us. The cross makes us gentle and pure in the heart. You will experience it, dear child. It will not be easy. You will have to endure a lot, but you will endure it, one way or the other. Bear it in humility and devotion, then it will be easier for you."

The nurse took a few steps back and looked again closely at Christa on the cross. She could not take her eyes off the naked, crucified girl.
"How beautiful you are in your devotion, Christa!" she said. "I'll leave you alone now. I will come back about every quarter of an hour and look for you. Your time of penance has come. Atone, Christa! Show humility! "

The nun turned and left. Silently she glid across the stone floor. Her bare feet did not make any sound. At the door she turned around and looked at Christa for a long time. What she saw seemed to be good. Finally she left the chapel and closed the door behind her. Christa heard her lock the door.
She was alone.

 

[Mark Kee]

Very nice pacing to the story and terrific description. I liked the part where the cross goes upright and there is a "small jerk." You can just picture it and feel it. I also like the whole barefoot thing. A barefoot girl is not only humble, but sexy.

 

[ShadowWolf]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 3

Christa stood there and could not move. She could not speak. She stared at the big wooden cross. She could not take her eyes away from it.
"I can understand, if you shrink back, my child," said Sister Zita gently. "It's not easy to take that. It is difficult. Many people prefer a lighter kind of creed. They are not ready to take on such a hard thing."

She stepped to Christa and took her hand: "I'm not pushing you, my child. I just wanted to show you this. Here you have the opportunity to show true humility and penitence. But of course only if you really want it. I would never force you. It has to be voluntary. You have to indulge yourself. Otherwise it's useless."
Again she looked at Christas bare feet: "Because you walk barefoot, I thought ..." She left the sentence unfinished.

Christa still could not speak. She had such a hard heartbeat that she could not speak. To gain time, she approached the cross on bare soles and examined it. It was a big wooden cross. In the horizontal bar there were several holes right and left. There were also two holes in the vertical pole - about where the head of the crucified person would be. Below was a sloping down pedestal mounted in a kind of groove. Christa saw that one could move the pedestal up or down.

This pedestal was apparently new. It was not as dark as the big cross. It was a bit lighter. Maybe the old one had to be replaced, Christa thought. Maybe it was worn out because it can be moved up and down in this continuous groove. By the time it has probably become shaky and the nuns had to assemble a new one.

Sister Zita came next to her: "That's for adjusting, Christa. You can move the pedestal and then fix it. People are different in size. You can adjust the cross to the height of the person to be crucified. In ancient times, all the sisters of the Order were crucified to take the sins of the world and to pay for them. There were big and small sisters."

She sighed softly: "Today there are only a few of the sisters and very few pilgrims. Well ... there are hardly any pilgrims left. This place has been forgotten. The monastery is very remote. Hardly anyone comes here yet. We have only a few visitors."

The nun pointed at Christas bare feet: "One can bare more than the feet alone. One can put off everything to show that one is full of humility and ready to give oneself completely, that one does not cling to so worldly as fashionable clothes, that one is penitent and full of lowliness of heart.
Nudity is part of it, dear child. You have to give yourself naked and bare. This reinforces the humility and subservience. You have to let go of everything worldly and indulge yourself completely.
She took Christa by the arm. "How about, girl? Would you like to prove your devotion and atone for the sins of the world? The cross is ready. It's waiting for you."

Christa had to swallow hard before she could answer: "I think that would be a good idea." Her voice was raw with embarrassment. "How …?"
Sister Zita was visibly more cheerful: "This will work very fast, dear child. You undress completely and lay down on the cross. I mount the hand straps fittingly on the crossbeam and adjust the footboard appropriately. Then I'll tie you to the cross and crank up the cross until it's upright. Everything else happens by itself. You can feel your devotion and soon realize that it is not easy to endure. The longer you are crucified, the harder it is to endure."

The nun looked meaningfully at Christa: "The cross will make you humble, dear child. It will impose humility and submission on you and force you to obey. They will feel your penance, very clearly even. It is a very intense experience. You will feel that you actively repent. You will feel what you have taken. Even the shame that you will feel because your nakedness is a form of penance. It all works together. Take everything, girl. It will do your soul good."

"Yes," Christa said. Her heart might bang harder. She could hardly believe what was happening. It gave her a chance to make a dream come true. "How long …?"
"Oh, that's different," said Sister Zita. She took a walk around the cross. Her bare feet made no noise on the stone floor. "You can atone for as long as you want. I knew a sister who always repented for a whole day. She gladly took it upon herself and endured the agony of humility and devotion. For starters it should be at least for the duration of a mass, that is one hour. "

"One hour," Christa echoed. She had to swallow again. One hour! If she agreed, the sister would strap her to the cross for an hour. For a whole hour!
"One hour," Christa repeated. She felt the cool stone floor under her bare soles with an intensity like never before.

The nun came to her. "I know, one hour is a long time," she said. "But please bear in mind that you should repent. You should already feel what you are taking on. It should not be too easy. You will realize that it is not easy to endure a crucifixion. Over time, it becomes increasingly difficult to bear it. But you can not get away. You are inextricably linked to the cross and have to endure, no matter how hard it is for you.

Christa nodded. "Yes. Good. I ... I want it. Please ..."
Sister Zita smiled: "Wonderful! That's wonderful, my child! You made a very good decision. An hour, then?"
Christa nodded again. "Yes." At the same moment she scolded herself.
I could have asked for two hours.
But now she could not say another word.

The nun raised her arm and stroked gently over Christas cheek: "Then it should be. You are very brave, my child. Please remove your clothes completely. You can put everything in this pew to put it back on later. Take off everything. You should not touch the cross in chlothes. You have to be completely naked."

She smiled kindly at Christa: "The presentations in the churches are not quite right. That's just what they did then and kept it until today. There was no loincloth. In reality, the crucified were always completely naked. They were left nothing. This was part of the humiliation of the crucified, as well as the public display."

Sister Zita made an all-embracing gesture. "That's the only thing that does not happen here: you are not publicly displayed. If you are crucified, I will close the chapel so that no one will see you repenting in this special way. Maybe there are pilgrims and other visitors who would not understand that."

The nun sighed. "Actually, it would be more appropriate to take that kind of atonement in public and show that you are truly humble and accept everything that happens to you. That you are ready to submit fully to repentance. But that is no longer possible today, I'm afraid. Unfortunately!"

Christa felt hot and cold. Public display! She saw herself strapped to a cross in her head cinema outside on the meadows in front of the monastery. Naked and bare she hung there, visible to all wanderers who came by on the old pilgrim's path. Everyone would see her. Maybe they would take pictures of her. What an idea!

Christa walked to the pew that sister Zita had shown her and undressed. She had a fierce heart beating when she first took off her jeans and then the T-shirt and finally her panties. She looked down at herself.
I hope sister Zita does not see my piercing!
She was clean-shaven like all the young people nowadays, and the small chrome sparkling piercing in her clitoris foreskin was clearly visible. Would sister Zita complain about this? Maybe she kept the piercing for pagan jewelry?

Christa decided to let it happen. She turned and marched bravely to the cross. With a heavy heart beat, she looked at the beams of old dark wood.
I'll be right on that cross and tied to it, she thought. She was excited like never before.
I will be crucified!

The way you wrote on how the nun coaxes Christa into the crucifixion is very well done. A little bit here and little bit there creates a great sexual tension.

 

[hongzu117]

I like the idea of bare feet！

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 5

Christa took a deep breath. She felt shaky and excited. She was crucified! Truly crucified! She could not believe it. She would never have dreamed to experience it once. She thanked the providence, which she had led to the monastery of Obermurscheid that day.

"I am crucified!" Christa whispered. "I am crucified!"
She gave herself completely to the new emotional sensation. The strain on arms and shoulders was enormous. Her arms were not exactly horizontally stretched, but Christa hung like a big Y on the cross. Nevertheless, extremely strengt forces on her arms and shoulders.
She managed to dodge the harsh tension a little bit by streching her legs and push her feet on the pedestal, but all the tension in her arms never disappeared.

She knew the harsh tension from experiments she had made on her grandparents' farm during the holidays. She had struck two strong nails into the wooden wall in the old barn behind the farm and made rope loops around her wrists and hung them on the nails. She had to go on her tiptoes. As soon as the loops sat on the nails, she let herself sink. It was not enough to stand on the soles of the feet. She hung so tightly that only her toes and toe pads touched the ground.

Now Christa could test the wonderful feeling of tension and enjoy a quasi-crucifixion. Of course something was missing. First, her feet were not tied up, and second, she could stop whenever she felt like it was too much. It was not a real crucifixion, but her games in the barn gave Christa a taste of a true crucifixion.

Unfortunately, the grandparents had sold the farm shortly after these experiments and were moved to a townhouse. Christa could not play with the rope loops anymore. For six years she could only dream about crucifixion in her imagination. Never in her life would she have thought to be truly crucified once in a lifetime.

Christa leaned back against the wood of the cross, as far as it went. She was overjoyed and she was aroused. In her lap it tingled wildly. She writhed a little in her shackles. She tested how much exercise she was allowed to do. It was not much. She was fastened very strong and absolutely inseparable from the wood of the cross. Free access was completely impossible. She was dependent on Sister Zita.

If she does not let me down, I'll have to hang on the cross, Christa thought. What a thought! She imagined the nun coming in through the door, her bare feet hovering over the church floor. She stopped in front of the cross and looked up at Christa.
"I have something to tell you, my child," said the nurse. "It is not enough to endure an hour on the cross to repent of the sins of humanity. To truly expiate, you must truly suffer! You will stay at this cross until evening! I will not let you down earlier."

The mere idea made Christa's heart beat wildly. She reared up in the leather shackles. She pushed her feet down, trying to free her body from the cross. For a while she could do it. She floated several inches from the cross for a few moments. Her back and buttocks did not touch the cross, only the wrists and ankles were relentlessly held by the leather cuffs directly against the wood.

I can not get away, Christa thought. I am inextricably linked with this wooden cross. I will not leave this cross until sister Zita allows me. If she decides that I have to stay at the cross until evening, then I will indeed remain crucified for so long. I can not help it. I am completely helpless. I'm helplessly exposed to Sister Zita. I can only indulge in humility and endure it.

She looked right at her wrist, fixed to the crossbar. The wood of the beam was old and dark. How old might this cross be? Was it from the time when the monastery was founded near Obermurscheid? How many people might have been on this cross over the years? Dozens? Hundreds?

Christa looked down at her bare feet. They stood on the bevelled pedestal, which was height adjustable. The pedestal looked relatively new. Surely one had to change an old pedestal, because it had become shaky.

Christa sank into the handcuffs. She enjoyed the hard tension in her arms. It hurted, but the pain was kind of nice, she thought. It was nice to suffer a bit on the cross. She could imagine that the crucifixion would become unpleasant in the course of an hour. Didn´t sister Zita say something like that?

Christa groaned softly. The strain on her shoulders and arms was enormous. She felt it constantly, but when she let herself sink into the bondage, it was strongest.
"And the most unbearable!", she whispered. "If I had to endure several hours, it would be absolutely unbearable. I would squirm. I would ask Sister Zita to let me down. If she did not, I would eventually start to plead. I would implore her to release me with tears in my eyes.“

A wonderful idea! Christa saw herself hanging on the cross and begging Sister Zita, sobbing loudly, to save her.
"But my dear child, I can not do that!" the nun would say. "You have to expiate on the cross! Your time is far from coming. You have to endure, Christa. Be humble and submit to the cross. It will hold you and carry you. You can rely on the cross."

Yes, the cross was reliable. It held Christa. It did not let her go. It gave her a hold. It was nice. Just beautiful. That it began to hurt, was one of them. That had to be that way.
"Then I really feel it!" Christa said softly. And if she felt it! She felt it more and more. Minute by minute it became harder to endure the crucifixion.

Christa was astonished. Was that going so fast? She had made it fifteen minutes on the barn wall, sometimes twenty minutes. She had barely managed to last longer. The strain on her arms and shoulders had become too uncomfortable and she had finished her little crucifixion game, but she had always felt a quiet regret. Deep in her heart she had ardently wanted to be so tied up that she could not get away and that she would have to endure much longer. That she was forced to bear it.

Now it was the way she had wished. She had to endure a full hour on the cross. She could not give up, because it hurted. She had to endure it. She could not do anything about it. She was helpless.
It was precisely this helplessness that excited Christa immensely. The tingling between her legs was back, stronger than before. She squirmed and moaned softly. It was more a moan of pleasure, for a groan of pain.

The door opened. Sister Zita came into the chapel. Silently she hovered across the floor towards Christa.
She is barefoot, Christa thought. I wonder why? Why is she walking barefoot? Is it a purely religious gesture? A sign of reverence and humility? Or does she like having bare feet and feeling the ground under her bare soles? Is she like me? Alone, as she looks at me! She likes to look at me, I can tell. She likes to look at a naked girl helplessly tied to a cross.

Sister Zita stopped in front of the cross. "How are you, Christa?"
"I'm fine, sister," Christa replied. She tried to hang still. She did not want to squirm on the cross in front of this nun. It was hard to hang still, much heavier than at the beginning. Christa had to be hard to herself. She started to sweat.

Sister Zita smiled up at her: "You look beautiful, Christa. A wonderful penitent girl on the cross! A humble penitent who accepts the crucifixion with devotion, even if it is not easy to endure. A girl who endures the cross. That is true penance!"
The nun let her eyes pass over Christa's naked body. "It will be a long time, child," she said. "It will be hard to endure, but you will endure it."

The nun's eyes sank into Christa's: "Because you have to! You can not get away, Christa. You will expiate. The cross forces you to do so. Accept it in humility and as submissive as possible. "

"Yes, sister Zita," Christa said. She could not stand it any longer. She could not hang still. She pushed herself off her feet and sat up at the cross. Her arms protested. Sharp pain ran through her shoulders. Christa could not suppress a moan.

"Yes, it is not easy, my child," said the nun. "But you did not go to it to have it easy, did you? You wished to truly repent and that is what you do. Accept it, Christa. Endure it humbly and without rebellion. I'm leaving now."
Again, the nun looked at Christa from top to bottom. Her eyes were interested. They wanted to see everything.

She really likes to look at me, Christa thought. She was a little ashamed because she was totally naked and she had no chance to cover her nakedness. She was hanging on the cross and had to accept that this strange nun looked at her shamelessly.
She might even take a picture of me if she wants, Christa thought. I could not do anything about it. Nothing at all.

She did not want to do anything about it. Christa was ashamed of herself, but she also enjoyed the nun's covetous looks for a while.
Yes, covetous, she thought. Sister Zita looks desirous. Maybe she dreams of hanging on this place and paying for it in my place. Or maybe she will be aroused by the look at a helplessly crucified girl. Who knows?

Sister Zita turned and walked to the door. Christa saw her dark discolored soles under the costume. At the door, the nun turned around and looked at Christa on the cross for a long time. Then she left the chapel and closed the door. Christa was alone again.

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 6

She sank into the handcuffs with a long sigh. She felt so hard strained that her arms could be teared. It really hurt very bad. Her shoulders felt overstretched and her arms ached. The pain was not unbearable, no. She could bear it. But it hurt.

It was a welcome pain. It was an arousing pain. Christa enjoyed this pain.
It feels like a true crucifixion, she thought as she hung in her handcuffs, her legs slightly bent. A true crucifixion must be felt right! I have always wished for that. That and the barefoot praying in the church.

She used to go by bicycle from her home town, visiting churches and chapels where she could indulge her special little fondness. At the beginning it had cost her tremendous effort to take off her shoes and socks and walk bare-footed into a church. She was always afraid someone would come and see it and ask stupid questions. The idea alone made her sweat.

And it was not barefoot alone! Actually, Christa dreamed of undressing completely! She did not understand why she had such fantasies, why she wished to go naked to a church and pray. But she knew she was not alone with her preference, which seemed strange to her. On the Internet she found in the various forums entries of girls who wish to walk naked through the forest. Some dared to really do it.

As Christa read these posts, she got hot ears. Blazing blush had risen in her cheeks as she read how a peer in the woods took off her clothes and ran through the woods naked like a forest fairy, naked as God had created her. She herself had never dared to undress to enter a church naked. Too much she feared being caught. She could not risk that. But the internet posts brought her an idea.

One fine day in the spring of the year, when she was sixteen, she had ridden her bike into the forest near her home town. She had hidden the bicycle in a shrubbery and had walked almost to the crossroads where the big crucifix stood.
With a beating heart she had stopped and had looked and listened to all sides.
It took almost five minutes before she had the courage to take off her sandals. Now she stood barefoot on the forest path. Nice! But not enough!

Christa lolled at her cross. She remembered the faint whimper coming from her throat as she took courage and undressed. She took off her blouse. She did not wear a bra. Then she slipped out of her jeans and quickly took off her panties. Now she stood totally naked on the forest path. She felt like she was on the show plate. If someone came, she would hardly have time to dress quickly.

She left the clothes as a clean bundle on the roadside, took her rosary out of the jeans pocket and strode with wide sweeping steps to the crucifix at the intersection. Her heart was pumping hard.
If someone comes along! If someone sees me! Oh God!
She almost died of excitement. She was totally shaky. She had weak knees.

But she walked the fifty yards to the crucifix in slow, measured steps like a pilgrim approaching the altar in a church. She saw the lifelike body of Christ hanging on the cross. She saw the nails that pierced his hands and feet and tied him inextricably to the cross. Crucified !, she thought. I also want to be crucified! But tied up! I want to be tied up! With ropes! I want to be tied down, so tight that I can not free myself under any circumstances.

She reached the crossroads and knelt down in front of the crucifix. She picked up her rosary and began to pray. She prayed the complete Rosary, verse by verse, in a loud voice. She knelt naked on the ground in front of the cross and prayed fervently. She felt satisfaction and arousement at the same time. She was very excited. She was shaking with fear of being discovered, and she was trembling with sexual arousing.

She went through. She knelt naked in front of the crucifix and prayed the complete rosary.

Then, with measured stride, she returned to her bundle of clothes and hastily dressed. As she cycled home, she felt deep satisfaction. She was overjoyed.

She kept dreaming about beeing naked in a church, but she never dared.
Today I'm experiencing it, Christa thought. She lolled at the cross.
Oh, and how I experience it! I'm not just barefoot I am naked. Stark naked!
She sighed loudly.
And I am crucified. Is there anything better? I am bound for the first time in my life! I've always wanted that.

She pushed herself up and took a deep breath. She was sweating. A thin film of sweat covered her naked body. Being crucified was sort of hard work. Christa squirmed. She slowly moved her body up and down, from left to right and back. It was an attempt to somehow avoid the ever-increasing pain.

It really hurt now. Not unbearably hurt, no. It was bearable. But it was not easy to endure. Christa gasped. It was, as Sister Zita had said, over time it became harder to bear it.
"But I have to endure it!" Christa whispered. "I can not help but bear it. Sister Zita told me."

How did the nun know about the pain on the cross?
"She was crucified herself," murmured Christa. She spoke softly to herself. "As she looked at me on the cross, she loves the cross. Guaranteed! I'd like to bet she'll get strapped on this cross once a week and enjoy every minute."
Christa sank into the shackles. "Why not?" she said in a low voice. "I enjoy it too. It is nice. It hurts, but that's part of it. That's just what makes it so beautiful."

She liked to feel the crucifixion so intensely. On the one hand, she wished that it would be over soon, because it was becoming harder and harder to bear, and on the other, she humbly submitted to the oncoming pain and endured it quietly and with devotion. She felt good. There could be nothing wrong with loving the cross.

The door opened. She wondered? Had the first half hour already passed? Christa no longer had the right sense of time. She watched as Sister Zita walked toward her as she floated on bare soles over the cool stone floor and came to her. She had a bicycle bottle with her.

The nun pulled a small wooden stepladder in front of the cross, which had stood beside the large wooden cross. She climbed the three steps and faced Christa at eye level. "I brought you something to drink, my child. You sweat on the cross. You have to balance the loss of fluid." She held the bicycle drinking bottle to Christa's mouth: "Drink!"

Christa drank. She was surprised how thirsty she was. She must have sweated out a lot. She sucked on the bottle like a baby and emptied it almost completely.
Smiling, sister Zita finally took the bottle away from her. "Enough! Now you will repent the rest of your time without drinking." She got off the small stepladder and set it aside. She put the bottle on it.

Then she came in front of the cross. She knelt on the floor and looked up at Christa. She began to pray, watching Christa all the time. She prayed a Lord's Prayer and then several other prayers. All the while, the nun had her eyes crossed over Christa's bare, bound body. What she saw, she obviously liked.
Christa felt a little ashamed and at the same time enjoyed the covetous looks of the nun.

Finally, sister Zita stood up. She walked to the left and knelt in front of a statue of the Virgin on the wall of the chapel. Once again she spoke several prayers. Christa saw her kneeling down there. Nurse Zita's bare feet sticking out of the nun's robe. The feet were white. Christa did not see a tan.

How so? she wondered. Where her bare feet are hidden under the nun's habit? It is hard to see that she is barefoot.

She looked at the naked feet of the nun. The soles were dark, almost black.
Yes, Christa thought, this nun always walks barefoot. I bet that sister Zita never wears shoes. At the most in winter, when it is very cold.
She liked the idea. She also wanted to live barefoot and never wear shoes.

Sister Zita raised. She stood in front of the cross and looked up at Christa.
"I'll leave you alone now, Christa, so you can focus on your penance." She looked at Christa as if she had to memorize every detail.
Christa enjoyed this display of herself. She liked to hang naked in front of this nun on the cross. She liked it better every minute.

Then sister Zita went out. Christa remained alone on the cross.

 

[ShadowWolf]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 6

She sank into the handcuffs with a long sigh. She felt so hard strained that her arms could be teared. It really hurt very bad. Her shoulders felt overstretched and her arms ached. The pain was not unbearable, no. She could bear it. But it hurt.

It was a welcome pain. It was an arousing pain. Christa enjoyed this pain.
It feels like a true crucifixion, she thought as she hung in her handcuffs, her legs slightly bent. A true crucifixion must be felt right! I have always wished for that. That and the barefoot praying in the church.

She used to go by bicycle from her home town, visiting churches and chapels where she could indulge her special little fondness. At the beginning it had cost her tremendous effort to take off her shoes and socks and walk bare-footed into a church. She was always afraid someone would come and see it and ask stupid questions. The idea alone made her sweat.

And it was not barefoot alone! Actually, Christa dreamed of undressing completely! She did not understand why she had such fantasies, why she wished to go naked to a church and pray. But she knew she was not alone with her preference, which seemed strange to her. On the Internet she found in the various forums entries of girls who wish to walk naked through the forest. Some dared to really do it.

As Christa read these posts, she got hot ears. Blazing blush had risen in her cheeks as she read how a peer in the woods took off her clothes and ran through the woods naked like a forest fairy, naked as God had created her. She herself had never dared to undress to enter a church naked. Too much she feared being caught. She could not risk that. But the internet posts brought her an idea.

One fine day in the spring of the year, when she was sixteen, she had ridden her bike into the forest near her home town. She had hidden the bicycle in a shrubbery and had walked almost to the crossroads where the big crucifix stood.
With a beating heart she had stopped and had looked and listened to all sides.
It took almost five minutes before she had the courage to take off her sandals. Now she stood barefoot on the forest path. Nice! But not enough!

Christa lolled at her cross. She remembered the faint whimper coming from her throat as she took courage and undressed. She took off her blouse. She did not wear a bra. Then she slipped out of her jeans and quickly took off her panties. Now she stood totally naked on the forest path. She felt like she was on the show plate. If someone came, she would hardly have time to dress quickly.

She left the clothes as a clean bundle on the roadside, took her rosary out of the jeans pocket and strode with wide sweeping steps to the crucifix at the intersection. Her heart was pumping hard.
If someone comes along! If someone sees me! Oh God!
She almost died of excitement. She was totally shaky. She had weak knees.

But she walked the fifty yards to the crucifix in slow, measured steps like a pilgrim approaching the altar in a church. She saw the lifelike body of Christ hanging on the cross. She saw the nails that pierced his hands and feet and tied him inextricably to the cross. Crucified !, she thought. I also want to be crucified! But tied up! I want to be tied up! With ropes! I want to be tied down, so tight that I can not free myself under any circumstances.

She reached the crossroads and knelt down in front of the crucifix. She picked up her rosary and began to pray. She prayed the complete Rosary, verse by verse, in a loud voice. She knelt naked on the ground in front of the cross and prayed fervently. She felt satisfaction and arousement at the same time. She was very excited. She was shaking with fear of being discovered, and she was trembling with sexual arousing.

She went through. She knelt naked in front of the crucifix and prayed the complete rosary.

Then, with measured stride, she returned to her bundle of clothes and hastily dressed. As she cycled home, she felt deep satisfaction. She was overjoyed.

She kept dreaming about beeing naked in a church, but she never dared.
Today I'm experiencing it, Christa thought. She lolled at the cross.
Oh, and how I experience it! I'm not just barefoot I am naked. Stark naked!
She sighed loudly.
And I am crucified. Is there anything better? I am bound for the first time in my life! I've always wanted that.

She pushed herself up and took a deep breath. She was sweating. A thin film of sweat covered her naked body. Being crucified was sort of hard work. Christa squirmed. She slowly moved her body up and down, from left to right and back. It was an attempt to somehow avoid the ever-increasing pain.

It really hurt now. Not unbearably hurt, no. It was bearable. But it was not easy to endure. Christa gasped. It was, as Sister Zita had said, over time it became harder to bear it.
"But I have to endure it!" Christa whispered. "I can not help but bear it. Sister Zita told me."

How did the nun know about the pain on the cross?
"She was crucified herself," murmured Christa. She spoke softly to herself. "As she looked at me on the cross, she loves the cross. Guaranteed! I'd like to bet she'll get strapped on this cross once a week and enjoy every minute."
Christa sank into the shackles. "Why not?" she said in a low voice. "I enjoy it too. It is nice. It hurts, but that's part of it. That's just what makes it so beautiful."

She liked to feel the crucifixion so intensely. On the one hand, she wished that it would be over soon, because it was becoming harder and harder to bear, and on the other, she humbly submitted to the oncoming pain and endured it quietly and with devotion. She felt good. There could be nothing wrong with loving the cross.

The door opened. She wondered? Had the first half hour already passed? Christa no longer had the right sense of time. She watched as Sister Zita walked toward her as she floated on bare soles over the cool stone floor and came to her. She had a bicycle bottle with her.

The nun pulled a small wooden stepladder in front of the cross, which had stood beside the large wooden cross. She climbed the three steps and faced Christa at eye level. "I brought you something to drink, my child. You sweat on the cross. You have to balance the loss of fluid." She held the bicycle drinking bottle to Christa's mouth: "Drink!"

Christa drank. She was surprised how thirsty she was. She must have sweated out a lot. She sucked on the bottle like a baby and emptied it almost completely.
Smiling, sister Zita finally took the bottle away from her. "Enough! Now you will repent the rest of your time without drinking." She got off the small stepladder and set it aside. She put the bottle on it.

Then she came in front of the cross. She knelt on the floor and looked up at Christa. She began to pray, watching Christa all the time. She prayed a Lord's Prayer and then several other prayers. All the while, the nun had her eyes crossed over Christa's bare, bound body. What she saw, she obviously liked.
Christa felt a little ashamed and at the same time enjoyed the covetous looks of the nun.

Finally, sister Zita stood up. She walked to the left and knelt in front of a statue of the Virgin on the wall of the chapel. Once again she spoke several prayers. Christa saw her kneeling down there. Nurse Zita's bare feet sticking out of the nun's robe. The feet were white. Christa did not see a tan.

How so? she wondered. Where her bare feet are hidden under the nun's habit? It is hard to see that she is barefoot.

She looked at the naked feet of the nun. The soles were dark, almost black.
Yes, Christa thought, this nun always walks barefoot. I bet that sister Zita never wears shoes. At the most in winter, when it is very cold.
She liked the idea. She also wanted to live barefoot and never wear shoes.

Sister Zita raised. She stood in front of the cross and looked up at Christa.
"I'll leave you alone now, Christa, so you can focus on your penance." She looked at Christa as if she had to memorize every detail.
Christa enjoyed this display of herself. She liked to hang naked in front of this nun on the cross. She liked it better every minute.

Then sister Zita went out. Christa remained alone on the cross.

Sassi you have created such delightful thoughts of Christa along with imaginative scenes in parts 5 & 6 that captivated me within the story. Well done!

 

[Eulalia]

'Discalced' - 'without sandals' - friars and nuns are to be found among the religious orders today,
the best-known being the Discalced Carmelites,
the reformed order founded by that powerfully erotic mystic Teresa of Avila,
along with the austere Juan de la Cruz (John of the Cross, whose vision was portrayed in Dali's famous painting)
Sassi's story is capturing the intensity of this very special form of ascesis.

Incidentally, the German version is available - if anyone would like to read that
and isn't already in touch via our Deutsche CF Members PM thread,
just contact Sassi, Madiosi, Wragg or myself.

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 7

Christa hung silently on the cross. She felt the tension in her arms. She enjoyed the feeling of being forcibly stretched. That made this bondage so beautiful. Christa had always dreamed of bondage and her favorite fantasy was just this: she was tied to a cross. She liked this idea more than any other.

Between her thighs it tingled. She looked at me, she thought. What does it look like? Sister Zitas eyes ate me up. She could not get enough of me. She liked to look at a girl who is tied naked to a cross.

She lolled at the cross. In the meantime, it was not so easy to endure the crucifixion. Sister Zita had announced it. It would gradually be harder to bear it.
Does she let herself crucify? Certainly! How else should she know what it feels like? From mere watching? Certainly not! She goes to the cross herself. Because she loves it. Just like me.

Christa was a bit ashamed. She should repent on this cross for the sins of humanity. Instead, she felt sexual arousing. It was an incredibly erotic experience to be strapped to the cross in this chapel. She was excited like never before.
Is that a sin? My own sin? And can not I atone for my own sins?

Could the pain that so unspeakably aroused her be at all penance? Didn´t it feel like a reward? I can not help it, Christa tought. It is like that. I've always dreamed of being tied up, preferably naked on a cross. Now I experience it and it totally excites me. I can not help it.

She writhed at the cross. Her body moved against her will in an attempt to escape the oncoming pain. It was useless. No matter how she moved, whether she turned left or right, it always hurt. Although she tried to escape the pain, Christa welcomed it. Oh sweet pain!

She was sweating more heavily now. A film of sweat covered her naked body. She looked down at herself and saw her skin shine.
It hurts, she thought. Just like sister Zita said. It's getting harder and harder to endure. Yes. Oh, sweet pain!

Christa wondered if the nun was on the cross as well as she was right now. Did sister Zita dance naked at the wood of the cross? Did she moan? Was she panting with effort? Or did she hang quietly and surrender on the cross and endure it without making a sound?

She let herself crucify. I'm sure! She loves it. Just like me! She loves the cross. She loves to be naked and helpless strapped to the cross. She loves not to get away on her own. She loves to be completely at somebodys mercy. She loves the oncoming pain, the pain, the agony. Torment? Yes, torment. When crucified for a long time, simple pain becomes real torment.

How long did sister Zita stay on the cross? Certainly longer than a single hour. Certainly longer! Two or three hours? No, rather more. Determined four to six hours. The idea of being crucified for six hours increased Christa's excitement even more.

Six hours would really be painful. Christa was already suffering and she was crucified for maybe three quarters of an hour. Groaning, she writhed on the cross. When would sister Zita come? By now a quarter of an hour had passed. She was sure it was like this.

Christa sank into the handcuffs. She breathed intermittently. She gasped. Oh, it was so hard to endure! She felt a faint whimper rising in her throat. No! She was not allowed to moan loudly! She did not want that. She did not want Sister Zita to hear her whimpering.

Muted sounds came from the right. Christa turned her head. There was a door in the back wall of the chapel. She had not noticed that before. She had only eyes for the big wooden cross when the nun had led her into the chapel.
Behind the door she heard someone handling. Was that sister Zita? Or maybe someone else?

Christa was startled. Her body stiffened. Someone else? Another nun? What if this nun came to the chapel? If she found Christa?
If she sees me ?! I am naked! I am tied naked to a cross! Christa had to swallow.

Then she relaxed, at least as far as the bondage allowed.
Then she will see me! I can not help it! I am tied up. I'm helpless. I can not do anything. Nothing at all!

Christa reared up. She fought against the bondage. She started writhing on the cross again. It hurt. It hurt the whole body, mostly the arms and shoulders, but also her legs ached from the effort to keep pushing her up. The pain began to fill Christa up completely. It was good. It was nice. Nice painful. Painfully beautiful. Christa wanted to suffer, at least as much as she could endure, and maybe a little more. She loved the compulsion that the cross imposed on her. She loved being ruled by the cross. She loved being helpless delivered to the pain. She was stretched tight. She was tied up. She suffered. And that was nice somehow.

Christa groaned loudly. When sister Zita would come? She stayed longer away than a quarter of an hour. Christa was sure the nun had been away for more than fifteen minutes. Why? Couldn´t she come to the chapel? Did something happen? Did her abbess ask her to do some work? Or - wild terror in Christas heart - had she asked sister Zita to accompany her somewhere? For shopping for example? Would the sister be gone for several hours?

Then I have to endure, Christa thought. The thought filled her with terror and excitement at the same time. Several hours! Many hours! Maybe until evening? Oh, what an idea! Crucified until evening! She would squirm for hours on the cross and wish, - please!, please! - be released. Oh yes, then she would repent. And how! Sweet horror. Exciting horror. Christa squirmed.

The door on the right opened. Sister Zita came to the chapel. On bare feet she floated to Christa. She looked up at her.
"I see you are repenting, my dear. It's good. Atone! Atone with humility and dedication! You are fine, I can see that."
The nun smiled at her. "You look very sweet in your pain, Christa. I can see how hard it is for you. But you bravely endure it. You submit to torture in humility and devotion."

"How do you feel?", the nun wanted to know.
"Good," Christa said. "I'm fine."
Sister Zita smiled. "That's fine, my dear child. Very good.. You have it inside yourself. You are made to repent on the cross. Will you leave tomorrow?"

Christa shook her head: "No. I have four weeks vacation."
She saw sister Zita's eyes light up. "Four weeks? Ah? Very nice. You know, Christa, you could repeat that. The atonement on the cross, I mean. You can atone on the cross as often as you like. The cross waits patiently. The cross is always there for you, Christa."

Christa got heart palpitations. Always! Every day! As often as she wanted! Oh, what an idea! The tingling in her lap started again, wilder than before.
I can go to the cross as often as I want, Christa thought. Whenever I want! Sister Zita fetched the small wooden step-ladder and placed it in front of the cross. She went up the three steps and stood in front of Christa. The nun looked deep into her eyes. "You can repent on the cross whenever you want, Christa."

 

[thehangingtree]