AlexArts
Soul of Cinder
I said so... A long time ago. HonestlyHe started making excuses, saying he was only experimenting with new software.
I’m so fucking wet right now!
The exciting continues
I said so... A long time ago. HonestlyHe started making excuses, saying he was only experimenting with new software.
I’m so fucking wet right now!
The poor clerk! He looked like some high school kid working a summer job. His eyes darted back and forth while trying so terribly hard not to look at my chest and long, lean legs! I’m only 24 years old; I could be his older sister or even a new teacher at his school. I giggle a little knowing how I’m making this kid so horny. Good thing he’s wearing his store apron with company logo printed boldly on the front. I’m sure it saved him from acute boner embarrassment.
Alex was right when he recommended that I should not be able to release my wrists. It makes the staging of my crucifixion seem more real. More dangerous. More exciting. I can’t get off this cross by myself! Wow! If Alex were to drop dead right now I would quite probably die right here, in agony over a period of days! Would anybody visit? Would a deliveryman happen to find me? Perhaps clinging to life, naked and dehydrated. Perhaps dead. My body hanging from my blood encrusted wrists. The coroner will record that I tried to release myself, but just couldn’t.
Why does it be "tremendous" ? Is it giving more pleasure to you ? For us, lesbians, only two fingers are suffiscient ...Alex has a tremendous boner growing in his jeans.
Oh well, it makes me feel better to think I’m desirable to other men. I know I’m desirable to Alex, and that’s really all I need, but it’s fun to fantasize, isn’t it?
Picking up one end of the 8-foot long beam makes my heart race. It feels so heavy and solid in my hands, so masculine, so potent. I feel flush, and wet. We select three 8-foor pieces and Alex adds a few more pieces of smaller wood.
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I also like to do like you, Marcie , even towards men ! It's exciting !!! Often, I dont wear a "petite culotte" (panthy) under my mini skirt !!!
Why does it be "tremendous" ? Is it giving more pleasure to you ? For us, lesbians, only two fingers are suffiscient ...
Alas, there is no "metro" in Angers, only a tramway ! But we have some "escalators"...I can just imagine following you from the Metro platform to street level
Much too hot to keep the girls wrapped up, I say!
Hey, your last line is a Tree favorite! I knew I should have copywrited it!!Say the word . . .
“So, Marcie, you ready for your big day tomorrow?”
Alex and I are relaxing on the couch as he whispers this question in my ear while stroking my still damp hair. I had just gotten back from my last workout at the gym and had a long, hot shower to soothe my tired muscles. I’m lying curled up on my side, with my head on his lap, wearing a simple cotton nightdress. Alex’s other hand is resting on my ass cheek, giving it a soft squeeze every now and then. I smile, reveling in the simple, sweet intimacy between us. My happiness, at this moment, could not be greater.
Yes! Tomorrow is my big day. My cross is ready. I am so anxious to be doing this after fantasizing about it for so many years. I’m really going to be crucified! Though I know it will be painful, even agonizing, I fully expect the sensual experience of it will be wonderful! (I wonder if I'll have an orgasm?) In addition, the first-hand knowledge of how it feels to hang on a cross will help me write believable, erotic crux-fiction. Alex will see me as a woman reacting naturally as she hangs on a cross, which will help him create extremely realistic crucifixion imagery. It’s a win-win for two people with a serious crux fantasy.
I roll over on my back and raise my hand to Alex’s neck, pulling his head down to mine. I give him a long, deep, passionate kiss.
“Yes, my dear,” I reply breathily, in response to his question. I feel his warm hand sliding up my toned leg, pulling the nightdress along with it. We kiss some more, our tongues entwined. Alex’s hand strokes the insides of my thighs, as I reflexively spread my legs a bit further apart. Excitement and heat build in me. “So, what’s on your mind, pal?” I coyly ask him.
“This,” he says, lowering his head again to softly kiss me as his hand moves into my crotch.
I gasp as his fingers slip into my wet cleft. I moan as he strokes my clit. Waves of pleasure course through me. My heart is pounding. His hand brushes my nipple.
We dash upstairs to the bedroom.
****************
As the day for my crucifixion approached Alex and I worked out the final details of how the event would unfold. We had discussed a more complete scenario which included me being tied up in a “dungeon” the night before, walking semi-naked with the crossbeam across my shoulders, being stripped, and even having my cross raised up with me tied to it. All of this was heart-poundingly attractive to me. Especially the part about carrying the crossbeam and having the cross raised up with me on it. I would have loved doing those things. However, it seemed a bit ambitious for this first time. We would need at least another person to help with the cross raising and, despite being something of an exhibitionist (I frolicked naked on a beach in Mexico!), I wasn’t ready for anyone except for Alex looking at my hoo-ha as I hanged naked on a cross erected on our patio. And who would this person even be? One of my friends? His? A family member? A stranger? No fucking way! So, we went with me standing naked on a stool in front of an already raised cross. Alex would attach my wrists to the ends of the crossbeam and I would raise up my legs when ready and slip my feet into the ropes around the upright. Just the anticipated sensual thrill and the inevitable pain and discomfort would have to be enough for now.
Alex was as concerned about my physical well-being as was I. Nerve damage, strained or torn muscles, the effects of restricted blood flow, and possible scarring of my skin were of paramount concern. I certainly didn’t want to suffer any permanent, or even long-lasting injuries!
My wrists were my biggest concern since they would have to support my whole body weight at times. We researched BDSM sites to determine the kind of wrist restraints that would be best. We learned how to bind my wrists properly that spread the pressure of their bindings over the widest possible area of my hand and wrist. I expected that my hands and fingers would likely turn blue, somewhat, and was okay with that. I was less concerned about my feet since they’d be under my body and flat against the upright. They seemed they would be more resistant to damage and would not be subjected to as much twisting or straining as would my wrists. Overall, I was fully expecting and prepared for some bruising, temporary numbness, tingling, and muscle aches and pains after I came off the cross.
Still, I told Alex, I wanted everything to be as realistic as possible within the limited scenario we had. Of course, that might be determined by how much struggling I did on the cross and how far I pushed myself to stay on the cross as long as possible. I had no idea how long this would be. I estimated at least thirty minutes and, hopefully, longer if I could tolerate the pain.
To be better physically prepared to pull and push my body up and down on the cross, I joined a cross-fit training group at a local gym to improve my core strength, flexibility and upper body strength. I was in pretty good shape already from jogging and working out at home, but I needed a more high-intensity workout program to better prepare myself and gain muscle mass.
View attachment 520746 By the date for my crucifixion I was 135 pounds of sleek, feminine strength!
As much as I hoped to enjoy the anticipated sensual experience of my crucifixion—even thinking about it made me quite horny—I knew there would be real pain and it would be escalating. After all, I’m placing my body in an utterly unnatural position that would subject it to severe stresses and strains. Crucifixion was a method of execution, after all. Not sexual foreplay! It was meant to be as painful and horrible as possible for those condemned to such a gruesome death. What started out as sexually stimulating for me playing out a fantasy might soon become just plain, awful, fucking painful. But I wanted to experience all of it—the pleasure as well as the pain. (Shit! What the hell does that say about me?)
I was going to act as naturally as possible on the cross, not act for the camera. No doubt the longer I hanged the more I might scream and yell and say terrible things to Alex. We decided I’d use a “safe word” to let Alex know it was time to end my crucifixion. Until I said that word, though, it was okay for him to leave me hanging, no matter what I said or no matter how much I begged to be taken down. I would know my physical limits when it was time to come off the cross. We picked a word that I would have to consciously decide to say, not anything I was likely to blurt out unintentionally.
The issue of me being unable to get off the cross by my own means was always a bit troubling for me. I was to be truly dependent on Alex to get me down. Otherwise I would just hang, as perfectly crucified as anyone in ancient times, until I horribly died. What would start off as a sensual thrill would become sheer terror and unimaginable agony. But I understood that giving up the freedom to get myself off the cross was crucial to the experience of being crucified. I had to have some loss of control. There had to be some real fear involved, otherwise it would just be play-acting. I wanted some appreciation of how a condemned person actually hanging on a cross would feel, both physically and mentally. The total loss of control over one’s life at that point had to be horrifying. I just had to know something of what it was like.
Alex agreed that he would give help me have as realistic a crucifixion experience as possible. Until, that is, I said the word.
So, on that last night before my crucifixion, as we lay in bed spooning after amazing sex, with Alex’s big hand softly cupping my breast and his warm breath against the back of my neck as he drifted off into sleep, I realized I was putting my full trust in my dear and loving husband. And I was at peace with that.
After all, what could go wrong?
I was less concerned about my feet since they’d be under my body and flat against the upright. They seemed they would be more resistant to damage and would not be subjected to as much twisting or straining as would my wrists.
View attachment 520746 By the date for my crucifixion I was 135 pounds of sleek, feminine strength!
I am indeedAlex, you fucking bastard!
...Messa brings up a good point about the feet flat against the stipe but really do we care?!?!
Never shut up! Ideas shared are more valuable than thoughts held backYes, I agree ! Fantasy is not reality and Messa has yet lost an opportunity to shut up ...
Mmmmm ! A great thought !Never shut up! Ideas shared are more valuable than thoughts held back