Getting to know you . . .
What the hell is my pervert brother doing here! This is a fucking nightmare! It can’t be happening!
I scream at my husband who’s chatting away with these people. “Alex, you bastard! You fucking asshole! Get these people out of here! Now!” All I can do is rage and squirm on my cross as this group of strangers stares up at me. I can’t run, or hide, or cover up in the least. I try to squeeze my legs together but that barely conceals my privates at all given that my crotch is pretty much open and at eye-level with everyone. My face is burning hot in mortification. This is so much more worse than when my dad caught me masturbating in my own bedroom when I was fifteen. He was more embarrassed than I, probably, but it was just awful! He wasn’t at all judgmental, and knew it was perfectly normal behavior for a teenager, yet I couldn’t look at him for weeks without blushing. And even worse, I wasn’t able to jill-off for the longest time! Just too nervous someone would catch me. You should be able to relax to pleasure yourself properly. At least I do. My “abstinence” made me a real crazy bitch for a while! My besties at school kept telling me I seemed so tense and bitchy and that maybe flicking my bean more regularly would help. I blushed even thinking about why I couldn’t tell them why I was so fucked up!
Though I can barely look at them, I count twelve people on the patio, not including Alex: eleven strangers and my younger brother. All have their eyes fixed on me as they watch me deal with the particularly horrible agonies of crucifixion. It’s a gross violation of my privacy and dignity and I’m burning with shame. It’s like they’re watching me act out a masturbatory fantasy; and—yuck! ewww! ewww!—it’s even one for each of them I think! As a free-spirited adult, I’m not one to get embarrassed easily. Hell, I even went to a nude beach and spent the better part of three days in nothing but my birthday suit around lots of strangers. But that was so different. I had decided to be seen naked and could’ve covered up whenever I wished. But here, on this cross, I have no control over who sees me naked. (Well, except for saying my safe word and ending this.)
Now some of these unwelcomed visitors are setting up chairs and getting comfortable. Others are walking around my cross, getting different views of me. They’re pointing and commenting and laughing as I go through my crux dance. Strange men are ogling my breasts and pussy! I can see their eyes following the motion of my tits as they bobble with each positional adjustment I make.
Yeah! They look pretty good, don’t they, you assholes? The creepiest one is this old guy, kind of gaunt-looking, in a cowboy hat and aviator sunglasses. He’s really freaking me out because I can’t see his eyes. Fuck me! It doesn’t matter if I can see them looking at me or not. It’s just the fact that they’re here at all!
“So, Alex, how long has the bitch been crucified?” It’s the old guy with the aviator glasses asking.
“Oh, just about an hour,” Alex answers, almost in a yawn, as though he’s talking about how long it’s taking for paint to dry! I blush even deeper. He’s treating me like an object, not his loving wife. What the fuck is going on here? My head spins trying to understand it all.
“I think she’s doing well, don’t you?" Alex asks the old guy.
They caught me in a lowered position when they all arrived; my exhausted thighs were spread apart. Even though I can’t see his eyes, I know the old guy is staring right at my cunt. His head raises up a bit and I know it’s my beautiful, full breasts with their tumescent nipples that have his total attention.
Don’t go and have a heart attack now, grandpa, I mumble, as I purposefully shake my tits for him. He smirks. Probably read my lips. It was impulsive of me, kind of trashy, and I feel ashamed. (But I was praying he’d suddenly clutch his chest and topple over!)
“Yeah, she is.” He says in a smoky, gravelly voice, answering Alex’s question. He takes a deep draw on his unfiltered cigarette, then exhales a cloud of carcinogens. He flicks the ashes to the bricks. “She’ll last a long time, for sure.” His voice gets wheezy and he coughs a few times. “Young bitches always give a good, long show.”
Other voices chime in. “She’s sweating pretty hard, bud.” A stranger observes. “Best that you water her soon or she isn’t gonna last for the long show.”
Long show? What the fuck does that mean? Until I decide to end this? Or until I die? A wave of panic flashes through me. Am I really free to end this? Of course I am, I remind myself yet again. Alex is just fucking with me, that’s all. I can trust him.
“Nice job with the feet, too.” Says a slender, red-haired woman pointing to the foot block. “She won’t tire out as quickly. Good support. Did you consider a sedile or cornu for her too?”
Alex shook his head no. Good, I thought. I can’t imagine the pain those things can cause a woman.
All the women, too, seem to be looking me up and down rather approvingly. Oh shit! One of them, a busty gal with light brown hair and wearing shiny-red, glistening lipstick, just licked her lips as our eyes met! And now she blows me a kiss! What the fuck is going on? Are they all into this kink too?
The presence of these people adds incredibly to my stress. Now, every time I move I’m horribly conscious of how I’m exposing myself, or how my breasts are titillating the men (who knows, maybe the women too) as they change contours with my movements. Why would Alex want to embarrass me so? To make my crucifixion seem more realistic? It was supposed to only involve the two of us so I could live my fantasy. Now it’s become a public showing, for fuck’s sake! Well, we never explicitly agreed to no one else being present, but it was surely implied because we never discussed it. My mistake to trust Alex on this!
As bad as strangers are, the fact that my brother, Rafi (short for Raphael), is here too makes this truly horrendous. I hadn’t seen him in a few years and only recognized him when he took off his sunglasses and cap. He looks like a bum with a scruffy beard and long hair. What the fuck! Why is he here? And why is he looking me up and down and smiling? Gross! Oh, god! Is he getting a hard-on! “Don’t you fucking dare look at me, Rafi!” I scream at him. “And don’t you fucking dare get a hard-on! Do you hear me, Rafi?”
Rafi is four years younger than me, which makes him twenty now. Growing up, he was the epitome of the smart-ass little brother who only lives to torment his sister. When I started developing he’d take every opportunity to snap my bra strap through my shirt. I’d yell at him that it was sexual harassment and he should stop it! Of course, he didn’t. Or he’d “accidentally” bump into me and give my boobs a quick feel or grab my ass. The little shit would leave dirty notes in my underwear drawer; even a dead toad once. What a sick little pervert he was! Always sneaking up and trying to catch me in some state of undress! Or maybe not so sick. I mean, what little brother with a reasonably hot older sister (I’ll admit it) wouldn’t try to catch a peek at some real-life female parts if he could? Rafi’s obsession with my anatomy tapered off at some point and after I went off to college he started having alcohol and drug problems. By the time I graduated he had left home and my parents had no idea where he was. That he would show up here just at this time meant that Alex had to be involved.
Rafi averts his gaze as I glare down at him from my cross. “Okay, okay! Chill, Marcella! Sheesh! Hey, we haven’t seen each other in what, three or four years? Aren’t you happy to see me?” He snaps his head back up and gives me a sly wink. “I’m really, really glad to see you, sis.”
“Fuck you,” I shout at him. “And I told you not to look at me, you fucking wanker!” I scream at him, completely red-faced with mortification and tears running down my cheeks. I’m straining against my bindings, painfully jerking my arms and feet, twisting my body right and left, up and down, in impotent rage.
“Whoa! Take it easy Cella,” Rafi says with a chuckle. “You’ll wear yourself out too soon! Damn. You’re gonna shake those sweet titties right off your chest!”
“Yeah! That’s right.” Shouts another male voice.
Rafi’s crude, disgusting remarks shock me into silence. I collapse on the cross and hang completely from my arms. I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach; I’m gasping for breath and sobbing. Snot runs out of my nose. My own brother! How can he embarrass me like this? His own sister. “Please, Rafi,” I beg him, “don’t look at me like this. It, it just isn’t right.”
“How the fuck am I not going to look at you, Cella. You’re crucified naked on your patio. You’re the centerpiece of everything going on here.”
“You could try!” I shout at him, my voice cracking. “Don’t you know how humiliating it is for me to be naked in front of you? Isn’t this embarrassing for you too? You’re my brother. You should not be seeing me naked.”
“Oh, come on, sis. It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked before, you know.”
“That was when we were kids, you dickwad! We always ran around half-naked.”
“Really?” A tall, brunette woman wearing dark-framed glasses, faded jeans, and a loose white tee shirt with a blazer looks at Rafi. “That’s interesting?”
“Yeah, we did as kids. Our parents let us. They thought it was healthy and natural, or some shit like that. They weren’t freaks or perverts! Kind of conservative. Libertarians, actually.”
“Were? Are they . . .”
“Oh, no. Very much alive. They live a naturist lifestyle now. Spend summers at naturists camps.
“Hmm,” the woman wearing the big glasses says, placing a finger to her chin and tapping it, “that’s indeed interesting.”
Who is this bitch? I wonder. Some kind of academic, or therapist?
“You know, Marcella,” Rafi says looking at me again, “I saw you naked lots of times. You just never knew it.”
“What, what do you mean?” I ask nervously, as sweat streams down my naked body. “When?”
“Well, for one, I saw you and your lesbian girlfriend—you know, from high school—making out together in your room. You both got completely naked. I don’t recall now, so help me out here. Did you go down on her, or did she go down on you?”
“How did you . . .”
“I was in the tree across from your bedroom window. Used a telephoto lens. Not hard at all. You know, I think I have the pic on my phone. Yes, here it is.”
Rafi holds his phone up so I can see the image. It’s not easy with the sun out, but yes, it’s clear enough. It’s me . . . and her.”
“Well, would you look at that!” Rafi says with mock surprise. “She was going down on you! Look at your face, sis. That’s you having an orgasm!”
I groan as I drop down on the cross. My arms are stretched to their limits and my shoulders are screaming in agony. The others are asking to see the pic, and they’re laughing. My humiliation cannot be greater.
Rafi holds the phone up again to my face as he scrolls through images. “Hey, look! Here’s one of you in the shower, and here’s one of you fucking what’s-his-name. You really like to be on top, don’t you? Oh, and here you are stroking the kitty, buffing the bush, or whatever you girls call it. Ah, there’s that look on your face again!”
“Oh, god, Rafi! No more! Just shut the fuck up, please!”
“Just one more, Cella. And I really love this one of you.” Rafi has a big grin as he shows me. I’m lying on my bed, legs apart. “See, you had just shaved your bush! Who was that for?”
I’m bawling now. My body shudders with emotion. Eyes are all over my tits, as expected. I look my brother in the face. “Why, why are you torturing me like this, Rafi? I’ve never done anything to you to deserve this.”
“Because,” he says with a deadly chill in his voice, “you’re just a crucified bitch now, that’s why.”
My point isn't that the story doesn't involve crucifixion, it's that it involves much more, which is what interests me.
Alex reaches down and hooks his left arm under my right leg at the back of my knee and raises it up. He gets his hips between my legs. I feel his cock searching for my vagina. It’s clear, he plans to have sex with me as I hang! Shit! Was this always some secret fantasy, to fuck a crucified woman! Hell, it’s more like a rape, though, than sex. Well, then, let’s call it rape. After all, I’m only a condemned bitch.
Once my right leg is raised he does the same lift with his right arm under the back of my left leg. Both of my legs are hoisted up now as I feel Alex’s cock slide into my vagina. I gasp in pain as I’m barely lubricated at all. Alex is slamming my upper body against the upright as he thrusts in and out of me. By holding my body up, I get some blessed relief in my arms and shoulders. Sensation returns to my hands that were getting numb from the tightness of their bindings.
I have never felt such discomfort before while being fucked by Alex. This is somewhat like when he fucks me against the wall, but I fucking enjoy that! My legs are around his hips then as now, but my arms are not wrapped around his shoulders as they are when I’m being slammed against a wall. Now, my arms are spread out to the ends of the crossbeam.
I’m almost at the point of my own orgasm when I feel Alex’s final thrust and his load filling me up. “Oh, baby, I’m so fucking close!” I whisper in his ear. “Please don’t leave me like this! Finish me off!”
At least the Roman crucifixion victims only had to worry about being seen by people in the immediate vicinity
