They come to me once in a while... How is the 2017 Anjou tour going?Mmmmm ! A great thought !
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messaline
Crucified Amazon
Oh, I do avoid that I've no much time to find some nice calvaries actually ; but there will be certainly some nice ones in Britanny in September ...
Good to know... Goodnight my friends and G'morning to those waking up!Oh, I do avoid that I've no much time to find some nice calvaries actually ; but there will be certainly some nice ones in Britanny in September ...
T
morten sigurdson
Voivode of Wallachia
I agree with you, the foot stop allows victim to dream further . And the picture examples are greatI advise against this feet position in a real crucifixion (at least for somebody who is not familiarized with crucifixion) :
if your feet are flat to the wood, your thighs are obliged to be horizontal and you've no potency to relieve your arms ;
why do you not use of a rest'feet ? It could permit to your legs to easier support your body'weight and to better breathe ;
Alice is Alice and she can assume this kind of position: she's practically a professional crux'girl !(though that I'm not sure that she's not in a great pain !)
View attachment 520769 ... even I, I prefer to have this position: it's better to let the dreams invading my mind ...
... and not only the sufferings ...
Cella
Spectator
Two, maybe three. I'm not sure. I won't drag this out forever.
I suppose readers are just glad I finally got my character crucified. ("Way to much backstory Marcella!") Now I have to do something interesting with her on the cross!
Will Marcella enjoy her experience or not?
Will she learn anything? Become a better person? Will she and Alex grow closer, or will this divide them?And what about Alex? Is he really someone Marcella can trust? She could be in quite a pickle!
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Thank you! Then I will next days collect the parts.Two, maybe three. I'm not sure. I won't drag this out forever.
I suppose readers are just glad I finally got my character crucified. ("Way to much backstory Marcella!") Now I have to do something interesting with her on the cross!
Will Marcella enjoy her experience or not?
And what about Alex? Is he really someone Marcella can trust? She could be in quite a pickle!
Actually I for one feel the backstory adds soooooo much to the act!Two, maybe three. I'm not sure. I won't drag this out forever.
I suppose readers are just glad I finally got my character crucified. ("Way to much backstory Marcella!") Now I have to do something interesting with her on the cross!
Will Marcella enjoy her experience or not?
And what about Alex? Is he really someone Marcella can trust? She could be in quite a pickle!
messaline
Crucified Amazon
And what about Alex? Is he really someone Marcella can trust? She could be in quite a pickle!
Dont tell more ! I'm afraid that it could be bad ...
windar
Teller of Tales
I feel the opposite of course. The backstory is what makes this interesting and unique.
My guess is he will tease her to maximum and then let her go, if only for legal reasons. Eventually she would be missed by her friends and family and someone would find her on the cross. Then Stan Goldman and Barbara moore would track Alex down and he'd be in a mess of trouble.
You see, Madi, I didn't make that term up.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
'What could go wrong?'
Just... the simulation of reality that was not anticipated?
Great chapter again!
Cella
Spectator
The Beginning . . .
“So, bitch, how is it?”
The shock of having the stool yanked away, followed by my involuntary pissing, have barely passed when I hear Alex calling me a “bitch.” What the fuck! Seriously? How did I become a bitch? Alex is looking at me very differently now. Am I just a crucified bitch to him? Something worthless in his eyes? I hope to fuck he’s just getting into a role because I am well and truly crucified here. I cannot get off the cross without his help. Fear grows in the pit of my stomach. I have literally placed my life in Alex’s hands. Can I trust him? Should I just use my safe word and get out of this now?
No. Not yet. I’ve come this far. Yes, I’m crucified, but I can endure this! At least for now. I look down at Alex, tightly clenching my jaw. I hope he sees the anger in my eyes. He’s standing in front of me with a big grin on his face and stroking his erection. (What does he plan to do with it?) “I feel fucking wonderful, Alex,” I say flatly, responding to his questions. “Just fucking peachy!”
What should have been a sublime moment for me—feeling my body hanging on the cross for the first time as I live my fantasy—has been corrupted by the still seething anger I have for Alex right now! Shit! If I could get down off this cross right now I’d give him a good punch where it hurts!
I’m so humiliated from pissing myself. The camcorders caught it, of course, and Alex took photos. I tried to stop the flow when it started, but once my bladder started to empty it felt too good to stop. Kind of sensual, actually, with my warm piss splashing down between my legs. Alex and I are pretty creative sexually, but we never engaged in any kind of golden shower play. It never interested us. So why should I find this pleasurable?
Now what? More photos. I know he wants me to just react naturally, as a crucified woman would. (Purely theoretical, for me, though, to this point.) We've discussed this. No sexing it up for the camera.
Alright, my dear husband, I say to myself, I’ll just be myself. Take all the fucking pics you want.
Alex doesn’t talk to me; just continues staring at me and taking photos. I try to ignore him. Setting aside my initial anger and humiliation, I begin focusing on how my body is responding to being crucified. After all, I’m living my fantasy, not that it doesn’t have a certain amount of anxiety to it. I’ve put so much control in Alex’s hands. Nevertheless, it’s an immense thrill for me! I’m exhilarated as I look down my naked body as I just relax my arms and legs and simply hang on the wood. I’ve never seen myself like this before! My breasts are pulled high, my belly taut, my thighs held close together. My ribcage expands and contracts as I consciously seem to be breathing in and out. Wow! I wish I could see myself in a mirror now. I raise my head back against the upright and look up along my toned arms, so taut and stretched out. I close my eyes, feeling the tensions build. I try to imagine the utter terror I would feel as a woman actually being crucified as capital punishment. My heart races as I squeeze my thighs together and feel a rush of sexual energy building within me. My nipples are fully erect. If Alex were to reach up to fondle my breasts and stroke my nipples now he’d probably bring me to orgasm within moments!
Speaking of Alex, where the fuck is he, by the way? I twist my head around trying to find him. Ah, I see he’s brought out a hose and begins to wash my piss off the patio stones. He doesn’t look at me. And why should he? I’m just a crucified bitch.
I’m hanging only a couple of feet off the ground so I’m not really that high up, no more so than when standing on a stepladder. Yet my entire perspective is changed. One never observes the world from this position, looking out suspended from a cross. I’m looking down at Alex as he busies himself. If other people were here now (thank goodness they are not –I’d be so humiliated) I’d be observing them in the same detached way. I would be apart from them, separated by being crucified. They would be free to move about whereas I’d be fixed in this spot as I suffer the pain and indignity as one crucified. Wow! That’s both horrible and thrilling to contemplate!
I let my head drop to my chest. The day is hot, muggy and still. The sun shines brightly in a cloudless sky. Droplets of sweat are forming on my head and beginning to run down my face and neck. My breasts and chest are covered in a sheen of perspiration. I watch as beads of sweat begin travelling down my chest, between and over my breasts. One drop breaks free from the tip of my nipple and falls to the ground.
I’ve only been hanging a few minutes yet the initial sexual thrill is giving way to increased pain as my body responds to the utterly unnatural position of hanging on a cross. All my muscles, especially in my arms, shoulders, and thighs, are becoming rapidly stressed. Initial tensions are giving way to a burning sensation as when exercising. But unlike exercising I cannot ease the tension and burning. No matter how I try to position myself the muscle discomfort is constant and building. I begin to panic a bit. How will I ever endure this for even thirty minutes? Much less hours, or days! How soon will I be groaning in agony and begging for mercy (or to be let down)?
My shoulders and thighs are now seriously stressed. The pain and burning are intense. I’m sure it shows in my face as I grimace under the building stress and strain on my body. I’m suddenly sweating more intensely. Why did hanging from my wrists with my feet placed flat against the upright seem to be the right way to be crucified? Well, perhaps it is if the infliction of pain is the goal. Those fucking Romans really knew what they were doing! They weren’t crucifying people so they could be sexually aroused. No! It was for execution. A horrible, slow, incredibly painful way to kill a person!
My initial exhilaration and horniness are quickly giving way to serious pain. When will I start calling it agony? I’m pushing up with my legs to relieve some of the strain on my shoulders which are the most painful part of me right now. I look up and see my arms are now bent at the elbows with their muscles, and especially my biceps, standing out in tense, straining definition, as though I were posing in body building competition. My hands are tingling from the tight wrist bindings and my fingers are beginning to turn blue. How dangerous is that? I wonder.
My ass moves up and down against the upright as I slowly rise up and slip back down, only to very quickly start pushing up again. In the process, I feel several splinters sliding into my butt cheeks. I give a little yelp at the sudden, sharp pain. They feel so big and the pain from them in lasting. Fuck! Did Alex leave the upright rough just so I’d get splinters? At this point I can easily believe he did!
My head is hanging down and my lips tremble as I groan. “Oh, fuck me! This hurts! This fucking hurts!”
Alex is just staring up at me; his cock is still erect! Does he find the image of me hanging naked on a cross and obviously suffering so much to be erotic? Well, of course he does! He creates images of women hanging on crosses. I always found this image of me in my mind to be erotic too. But now that I’m experiencing real crucifixion it is the raw physical pain that dominates. My body is in constant, burning pain as I try to find a position that doesn’t overstress my shoulders or thighs, but whatever I do there is only momentary relief from the worst of my pain. Sweat is pouring off me now. Exhausted I just drop down on the cross and hang from my arms. My muscles are cramped and trembling. My pain is intense. I know I can end this at any moment by just saying me safe word. But I don’t want to, not yet. I must endure this longer! How long has it even been?
The burning and stress quickly builds in my shoulders and I reflexively push up and out so that my body bows out from the cross. This helps more to relieve the pain than simply pushing up. My back is arched and my breasts are pointed nearly skyward. But, as with all positions on the cross, I cannot hold for long as my legs can no longer support me. I drop back down against the upright. My thighs spread apart as their muscles relax. Alex is busy taking photos up between my thighs.
He’s getting the money shots he wants. I feel embarrassed. I want to close my legs but cannot. I'm not flashing my pussy because I want to. And that is embarrassing, even in front of my husband.
"How long, Alex?" I ask, panting. "How long have I been hanging?"
He doesn't answer. I know I can say the word anytime. But not yet! There is much more to experience.
“So, bitch, how is it?”
The shock of having the stool yanked away, followed by my involuntary pissing, have barely passed when I hear Alex calling me a “bitch.” What the fuck! Seriously? How did I become a bitch? Alex is looking at me very differently now. Am I just a crucified bitch to him? Something worthless in his eyes? I hope to fuck he’s just getting into a role because I am well and truly crucified here. I cannot get off the cross without his help. Fear grows in the pit of my stomach. I have literally placed my life in Alex’s hands. Can I trust him? Should I just use my safe word and get out of this now?
No. Not yet. I’ve come this far. Yes, I’m crucified, but I can endure this! At least for now. I look down at Alex, tightly clenching my jaw. I hope he sees the anger in my eyes. He’s standing in front of me with a big grin on his face and stroking his erection. (What does he plan to do with it?) “I feel fucking wonderful, Alex,” I say flatly, responding to his questions. “Just fucking peachy!”
What should have been a sublime moment for me—feeling my body hanging on the cross for the first time as I live my fantasy—has been corrupted by the still seething anger I have for Alex right now! Shit! If I could get down off this cross right now I’d give him a good punch where it hurts!
I’m so humiliated from pissing myself. The camcorders caught it, of course, and Alex took photos. I tried to stop the flow when it started, but once my bladder started to empty it felt too good to stop. Kind of sensual, actually, with my warm piss splashing down between my legs. Alex and I are pretty creative sexually, but we never engaged in any kind of golden shower play. It never interested us. So why should I find this pleasurable?
Now what? More photos. I know he wants me to just react naturally, as a crucified woman would. (Purely theoretical, for me, though, to this point.) We've discussed this. No sexing it up for the camera.
Alright, my dear husband, I say to myself, I’ll just be myself. Take all the fucking pics you want.Alex doesn’t talk to me; just continues staring at me and taking photos. I try to ignore him. Setting aside my initial anger and humiliation, I begin focusing on how my body is responding to being crucified. After all, I’m living my fantasy, not that it doesn’t have a certain amount of anxiety to it. I’ve put so much control in Alex’s hands. Nevertheless, it’s an immense thrill for me! I’m exhilarated as I look down my naked body as I just relax my arms and legs and simply hang on the wood. I’ve never seen myself like this before! My breasts are pulled high, my belly taut, my thighs held close together. My ribcage expands and contracts as I consciously seem to be breathing in and out. Wow! I wish I could see myself in a mirror now. I raise my head back against the upright and look up along my toned arms, so taut and stretched out. I close my eyes, feeling the tensions build. I try to imagine the utter terror I would feel as a woman actually being crucified as capital punishment. My heart races as I squeeze my thighs together and feel a rush of sexual energy building within me. My nipples are fully erect. If Alex were to reach up to fondle my breasts and stroke my nipples now he’d probably bring me to orgasm within moments!
Speaking of Alex, where the fuck is he, by the way? I twist my head around trying to find him. Ah, I see he’s brought out a hose and begins to wash my piss off the patio stones. He doesn’t look at me. And why should he? I’m just a crucified bitch.
I’m hanging only a couple of feet off the ground so I’m not really that high up, no more so than when standing on a stepladder. Yet my entire perspective is changed. One never observes the world from this position, looking out suspended from a cross. I’m looking down at Alex as he busies himself. If other people were here now (thank goodness they are not –I’d be so humiliated) I’d be observing them in the same detached way. I would be apart from them, separated by being crucified. They would be free to move about whereas I’d be fixed in this spot as I suffer the pain and indignity as one crucified. Wow! That’s both horrible and thrilling to contemplate!
I let my head drop to my chest. The day is hot, muggy and still. The sun shines brightly in a cloudless sky. Droplets of sweat are forming on my head and beginning to run down my face and neck. My breasts and chest are covered in a sheen of perspiration. I watch as beads of sweat begin travelling down my chest, between and over my breasts. One drop breaks free from the tip of my nipple and falls to the ground.
I’ve only been hanging a few minutes yet the initial sexual thrill is giving way to increased pain as my body responds to the utterly unnatural position of hanging on a cross. All my muscles, especially in my arms, shoulders, and thighs, are becoming rapidly stressed. Initial tensions are giving way to a burning sensation as when exercising. But unlike exercising I cannot ease the tension and burning. No matter how I try to position myself the muscle discomfort is constant and building. I begin to panic a bit. How will I ever endure this for even thirty minutes? Much less hours, or days! How soon will I be groaning in agony and begging for mercy (or to be let down)?
My shoulders and thighs are now seriously stressed. The pain and burning are intense. I’m sure it shows in my face as I grimace under the building stress and strain on my body. I’m suddenly sweating more intensely. Why did hanging from my wrists with my feet placed flat against the upright seem to be the right way to be crucified? Well, perhaps it is if the infliction of pain is the goal. Those fucking Romans really knew what they were doing! They weren’t crucifying people so they could be sexually aroused. No! It was for execution. A horrible, slow, incredibly painful way to kill a person!
My initial exhilaration and horniness are quickly giving way to serious pain. When will I start calling it agony? I’m pushing up with my legs to relieve some of the strain on my shoulders which are the most painful part of me right now. I look up and see my arms are now bent at the elbows with their muscles, and especially my biceps, standing out in tense, straining definition, as though I were posing in body building competition. My hands are tingling from the tight wrist bindings and my fingers are beginning to turn blue. How dangerous is that? I wonder.
My ass moves up and down against the upright as I slowly rise up and slip back down, only to very quickly start pushing up again. In the process, I feel several splinters sliding into my butt cheeks. I give a little yelp at the sudden, sharp pain. They feel so big and the pain from them in lasting. Fuck! Did Alex leave the upright rough just so I’d get splinters? At this point I can easily believe he did!
My head is hanging down and my lips tremble as I groan. “Oh, fuck me! This hurts! This fucking hurts!”
Alex is just staring up at me; his cock is still erect! Does he find the image of me hanging naked on a cross and obviously suffering so much to be erotic? Well, of course he does! He creates images of women hanging on crosses. I always found this image of me in my mind to be erotic too. But now that I’m experiencing real crucifixion it is the raw physical pain that dominates. My body is in constant, burning pain as I try to find a position that doesn’t overstress my shoulders or thighs, but whatever I do there is only momentary relief from the worst of my pain. Sweat is pouring off me now. Exhausted I just drop down on the cross and hang from my arms. My muscles are cramped and trembling. My pain is intense. I know I can end this at any moment by just saying me safe word. But I don’t want to, not yet. I must endure this longer! How long has it even been?
The burning and stress quickly builds in my shoulders and I reflexively push up and out so that my body bows out from the cross. This helps more to relieve the pain than simply pushing up. My back is arched and my breasts are pointed nearly skyward. But, as with all positions on the cross, I cannot hold for long as my legs can no longer support me. I drop back down against the upright. My thighs spread apart as their muscles relax. Alex is busy taking photos up between my thighs.
He’s getting the money shots he wants. I feel embarrassed. I want to close my legs but cannot. I'm not flashing my pussy because I want to. And that is embarrassing, even in front of my husband."How long, Alex?" I ask, panting. "How long have I been hanging?"
He doesn't answer. I know I can say the word anytime. But not yet! There is much more to experience.
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Fantastic Marcella! I was going to ask when the next chapter was coming but this was well worth the wait!!!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Wow! Great, exciting writing, Marcella!
Alex put you by surprise in a situation of realism you never anticipated. The way you describe the contradictory feelings of pain, humiliation, uncertainty and vulnerability on one hand, and the ensuing excitment on the other hand, is very well done!
)
messaline
Crucified Amazon
messaline
Crucified Amazon
windar
Teller of Tales
Not being a crux devotee, it takes more than a girl on a cross (not that there's anything wrong with that, as Seinfeld would say) to hold my attention. And this story does. I think it's because this story is about much more than just crucifixion. It's about relationships and how well you think you know even those closest to you. It also has suspense-I honestly don't know if you will eventually utter the safe word and what Alex will do if you do. I think you probably will and he probably will take you down (but will it be out of love or fear of the law or both?) but I'm far from certain. Those elements make the story much more than a run of the mill crux story. And also, no Romans...