Revelations . . .
“So, Marcie, you ready or not?”
Alex’s question pulls me out of my reverie of how we met. He sounds impatient. Like he wants me to just get on with it. What’s his rush, I think? Just chill out, Alex! This is my crucifixion fantasy! Sure, he’s helping me in a big way with bringing it to reality. He built this cross, devised the bindings, and is looking out for my safety; yet, it remains my fantasy. I could never have done this on my own. It’s far too dangerous. He’s making it as real as possible for me, and I love him for it. But for fuck’s sake, Alex, let me take things at my pace! Sheesh!
Looking down from my modest perch I see he’s setting up video cameras to capture my hanging from all angles. Wow! I knew he going to video me, but this much? I must admit, it makes me a bit uncomfortable. Why such a big production? What’s he going to do with all these videos? I tug again on my bindings, feeling the now familiar and pleasurable tension in my arms. Though I’m not really that far off the ground I’m beginning to feel separated, detached from everything around me. Is Alex my husband, or my carnifex? Well, in a sense he is my executioner. He fixed my wrists to this beam. Watching him go about all his various activities around my cross helps me imagine myself as an innocent young woman condemned to death. I’m nothing once I’m crucified, hardly worth a glance! I’ve got nothing to do but hang and watch the world go by without me. Nothing to keep me company except my pain and humiliation.
I relax my legs a bit to increase the tension on my arms. I even momentarily pull my legs up off the stool and feel the full weight of my body tugging on my wrists. Wow! That fucking hurts! It’s not at all like doing pull-ups in the gym. There all my weight pulls down on my arms, but my hands are holding onto the pull-up bar. I can drop off any time I want. And, my arms are pretty much extended straight over my head. But this—being bound to the crossbeam and not holding on—is an entirely different matter. The angle of my arms to the upright when I hang with my feet off the stool is about 65 degrees or so. That really puts so much more pull on my arms than if they were straight over my head. But it is the classic position on the cross. Alex measured the angle once when I was laying on the cross for my first "fitting," as I like to put it. After some experimentation, he positioned me on the cross with my head against the upright just under the crossbeam. I then extended my hands out towards the ends of the crossbeam. It was so exciting the first time I was on my cross! My nipples got stiff and my pussy got wet. Alex tied my wrists down and then pulled on my legs to stretch my arms as though I was hanging. This was important to determine the best location for where my feet would rest against the upright. My arms were indeed at a 65 degree angle with respect to the upright. Classic!
We were both naked whenever I was getting "fitted" to my cross. And, of course, since I was horny and Alex always had a tremendous boner, we fucked. There was just something about laying down naked on those rough beams, fitted together in the class “T” shape, that made me insatiable. And that Alex found it so sexually arousing was, well, expected. He often tied me up in the bedroom, so I was used to having sex while restrained. What a thrill!
Okay, so how did Alex and I get involved with this crux fantasy play? I’m sure the readers are asking that question. When I first saw that Alex was crucifying women I was a bit shocked! Of course, he wasn’t crucifying real women. He was creating some very graphic 3-D computer images and animations of crucified women. I had no idea he was into stuff like this. Not that I minded, but Alex seemed to be a bit embarrassed about me knowing. He started making excuses, saying he was only experimenting with new software. (At the time I suspected he was far more into it than he was willing to say, which proved to be true.) I immediately told him to relax; I was okay with him doing work like this. In fact, I told him, I found the images beautiful and erotic, and not shocking at all.
I then revealed to him that I’d had my own fantasies about crucifixion for many years. Crucifixion was so attractive to me because of its obvious sexual component. Naked people hanging on crosses with their entire bodies on display. You had to be something of an exhibitionist and someone with BDSM tendencies to feel that way. I’m sure “normal” people would be disgusted by the idea, but to me it was extremely erotic. Well, I guess that says something about me, huh? Thinking about hanging crucified in the Roman style with my breasts heaving on my chest, and my most private parts exposed to anyone looking up at me, was incredibly exciting and sexually stimulating for me.
Such thinking goes back to my years as a gymnast, I think. I always found great beauty and attraction in the bodies of physically fit women and men. Being a woman, I desired that kind of body for myself and worked hard to achieve it. The strict regimen of gymnastics allowed me to attain the physical perfection I craved. Seeing female gymnasts in motion appealed to my sense of feminine perfection as well. I also discovered I was sexually attracted to other women, especially those physically fit. Not exclusively, of course, as I’m intensely attracted to men and love sex with a man. But the attraction to women is there and persistent.
My career in gymnastics, unfortunately, ended with a growth spurt which left me, at age 14, far too tall to expect any kind of serious college scholarship offers. I competed through high school, and it was with a teammate that I had my one sexual relationship with another female. It was educational, to say the least, while it lasted, but she was a committed lesbian while I, as bisexual, was not. It wasn’t likely to last beyond high school either so I wasn’t too upset when she broke it off. Something about lesbian exclusivity and all that. Too possessive for me. As an attractive girl, I had plenty of attention from the boys. The guy I dated after my “lesbian phase” ended gave me plenty of reasons to admit that I really liked cock! Still, it’d be fun to try a girl again, sometime.
I went on to college and made the lacrosse team as a walk-on. I had played it as a girl and, due to my natural athleticism, was a natural for the sport. There were several lesbians on the team but I never pursued a relationship. As a chemistry major, I had plenty to keep me busy. My girlish dreams of a career in gymnastics had been dashed so I figured I better use my brain. I really loved science in high school and took all the advanced placement courses. My plans at the time included possibly med school or working towards a PhD. Yeah, I’m smart. The lacrosse was a way to stay in shape, make some friends, and do some girl-watching. Yeah, I still had an eye for an athletic woman! And I had my crux fantasies, of me naked and writhing on a cross, burned brightly in my mind at night when I masturbated in my bed.
When I met Alex in Mexico I was in my “celibate phase.” No real time for a relationship so I sort of powered-down my libido. My last boyfriend in high school and I knew there was no “us” in the future, so we spent as much time together that summer following graduation. I like to say we fucked our way through June, July and August! We parted good friends. Freshman year studies consumed me and there always were my crux fantasies to keep me warm. I started writing about them and composing little stories in what free time I had that didn’t include going out for some fun with my girls. The girls with me on the nude beach were my lacrosse teammates. We were pretty tight. OK, OK, I may have kissed one of them when I got a little drunk, but nothing beyond a little tongue action and groping!
Alex, to say the least, changed everything. He rekindled my sexual embers and convinced me that maybe I didn’t want to slog through years of grueling education to find fulfillment in life. My life with him was all the fulfillment I needed. Children were a part of our future but not yet. When I wasn’t helping Alex, I had plenty of time to spend on my stories, trying to develop characters and realistic plot lines that revolved around the practice of crucifixion. I was even trying to work out ideas for a novel. The revelation of our mutual interest in crucifixion—Alex as the visual artist and me as a writer--naturally led to me revealing my rather intense desire to experience a real crucifixion. Obviously not with nails, but by hanging tied to a cross. My stories excited Alex and gave him all sorts of ideas of how we could carry out my crucifixion in a way that would satisfy my longing in a safe, responsible way.
So, with my attraction to physically fit female athletes, my exhibitionist and BDSM tendencies, and my healthy imagination as a writer, I guess my crucifixion fantasy wasn’t that hard to understand.
We planned the details of my crucifixion for several months. My crucifixion would take place in August on the patio behind our house. My cross would be put up near a wall that faced south. The sun would be in my eyes as I hanged. Perfect! Just like I wrote about it!
We had the plan, now to get the materials for my cross.
