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Crucifixion of a Weather Girl

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CruxGirl

Magistrate
Thanks! Haven't read Dante since I was a teenager. But I remember finding him surprisingly vivid and accessible considering he inhabited a culture and a thought-world that was so very different from my own. Now that you've rekindled my curiosity about him I'm going to read the Commedia again :smile:
 

Blue

Magistrate
Would it help if we volunteered to crucify some of your students, at least the lesser-performing ones earning a D or lower? It’s time for midterms- correct? I’m sure the example of crucifying a few now would be a strong motivating force for those on the edge to get their act together and up their game for finals... Plus, you’ll have a few less papers to correct!
 

CruxGirl

Magistrate
Would it help if we volunteered to crucify some of your students, at least the lesser-performing ones earning a D or lower? It’s time for midterms- correct? I’m sure the example of crucifying a few now would be a strong motivating force for those on the edge to get their act together and up their game for finals... Plus, you’ll have a few less papers to correct!
What a lovely idea for the Faculty of Classics Open Day!
 

Blue

Magistrate
We host several arts festivals throughout the year. Perhaps we can work out some sort of exchange program between our institutions? “Selected” students would only have to pay for a one-way ticket, and, accommodations would be minimal- given that they won’t be on terra firma for very long... ;)
 

CruxGirl

Magistrate
Part 17

She is lying on an incline, her back resting on the raised portion of her mattress. Her hands are handcuffed to the bedstead behind her. Her legs are pulled wide apart by the leather straps from which her knees are suspended, and her calves are taped back against her thighs. But she feels so lucky to have an unobstructed side-view of Ophelia. She sees the perky swell of Ophelia’s breasts and the beauty of her elfin face in profile.

Her former lover is kneeling on the cold hard floor with her crossbeam strapped along her outstretched arms. Over and over, Ophelia licks the length of the blond nailer’s shaft, dragging the flat of her tongue up hard against its underside as if eating an ice lolly on a hot summer’s day. Eagerly, she takes it into her mouth and her cheeks become hollow as she bobs her head up and down.

“Ooh! Steady, sweetheart!” says the nailer, grabbing her head. “I want this blowjob to last a while. I have to work up a huge load of jizz for your pretty little face.”

“‘Ow much time ‘ave we got?” asks the other man as he pushes his cock into Destiny’s throat, thrusting violently, in and out, making her gag to his rhythm:

“Uhngc! Uhngc! Uhngc! Uhng! Uhngc! Uhngc! …”

The blond man looks over at the clock. “I reckon … ten minutes, tops?”

“Agreed. We’ll spunk up on their faces at eleven-forty-five … that’ll get us to the square in good time. I reckon the crowd will wanna ‘ave some fun wiv ‘em before we start on the scourging.”

The blond man groans as Ophelia takes his scrotum into her mouth and slurps at it greedily. His cock rubs up against her cheek, its tip oozing glistening slimy precum like a silver slug trail over her soft brown hair.

Mercy can’t stop herself from becoming wildly excited as she watches the scene. She whimpers as Emma pushes three fingers deep into her vagina. She moans as she feels the middle finger of Emma’s other hand probing her tight anus. The pleasure she experiences is almost too intense to bear.

Emma’s ministrations, combined with Mercy’s quickening lust for Ophelia, are reigniting memories of the night they made love, of how she could feel her blood spurting through her veins as Ophelia drummed her tongue against her flesh, now faster, now slower, now lightly, rigid and hard, plunging, driving, licking pulsatingly.

It had been madness. She had torn at Ophelia’s head, her fingers digging into her scalp. She wanted to push her away and at the same time pull her entire body into her. Ophelia stroked her gently and she felt three fingers entering her. Then she entered in the back as well as the front at the same time.

If there could be anything more intense, Mercy had never found out what it would be. That night Ophelia had made her feel more possessed than any man or woman had ever done.

When her second climax of that night arrived she was screaming at the top of her voice, unmindful of the rat pack of journalists and paparazzi lurking outside in the swirling London drizzle, and unmindful of the people of England safely tucked up in their beds, furtively masturbating away to thoughts of her walking naked through the streets to be nailed up in a public park.

As she had felt her consciousness slipping away into the bliss of sleep in the mothering arms of Ophelia, Mercy had pressed her face against her lover’s warm breasts and sucked at her nipples like a baby.

“You like that, don’t you!” says Emma with a wicked smile, withdrawing her fingers from Mercy’s vagina and anus. “Are your knees getting a bit stiff? Shall I take the tape off, so that you can, like, straighten your legs a bit? You won’t kick me, will you?”

“Oh! Yes please, Nurse Emma! I promise not to kick you. I’ll be good”, says Mercy eagerly, arching her back in ecstasy and gazing in rapture into the liquid darkness of Emma’s eyes.

“Okay. That’s the reward you get for being so totally gorgeous.”

“Oh thank you, Nurse Emma!”

The gratitude Mercy feels towards this kind and beautiful nurse as she rips off the tape that binds her calves against her thighs makes her sob.
Now she can flex her knees as they hang suspended from the leather loops.

“Your legs will need to be really, like, strong and supple if you want to carry your crossbeam in high heels”, says Emma with a twinkle in her eyes.

The freedom that Mercy feels now that she can swing her feet up and down makes her giddy with anticipation. She can’t wait to start out on her walk of shame.

A couple of feet away Cordelia Boundwell lets out a series of intense shrieks, and bucks her hips.

“I think you’re nearly there”, says Sophie lifting the humming vibrator away from her vulva. “I’m going to use just my fingers from now on. And I’m going to bring you off at exactly the moment those two men will be spunking up over the girls’ faces. Is that okay, Staff Nurse?”

“Of course, Sophie,” says Emma. “I want both these sluts to watch the show. But I’m sure they’ll put on a much better show when it’s their turn.”

“Oh yeah! I can’t wait to see Spike in action,” says Sophie, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

Cordelia says nothing, lying back on her pillow, face flushed, breathing deeply.

Each time Emma refers to Mercy as a “slut”, Mercy feels a wave of satisfaction washing through her. She knows deep down in her heart that Cassandra is right. She is a slut. Everything she has experienced has enabled her to find her “inner painslut”.

If even a girl as clever and smart as Ophelia can be broken by these professional torturers, then what hope for poor Mercy! She must accept herself for what she is, and enjoy the dark and intense pleasure it gives her.

The idea of being humiliated, whipped and crucified as a dirty shameless slut has come to excite her in a manner which she had never thought possible. The pleasure of being hate-fucked by her two-timing boyfriend, Toby, never came anywhere near the anticipatory pleasure that she now feels at the thought of being taken out on her walk of shame, to be manhandled and abused and nailed up in front of the TV cameras – with every subtle detail of her shame and agony picked up on a giant screen.

With a maddeningly steady rhythm, Emma is slowly circling Mercy’s copiously lubricated clit with one finger, keeping her suspended in that meltingly blissful state between cumming and not cumming.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” says Emma idly, “about those video clips of you that went viral in the weeks before the election – showing you, like, nailed up on a cross, riding a huge cornu? … Well – everyone thought they were fakes – you know, like, deep fake porn videos? – but –” She pauses to scrutinize Mercy’s breasts. Her eyes travel up and down all the contours of her body, lingering on her left hip, “I’m pretty sure it’s actually you – I mean, like, it’s your real body … I recognize that birthmark on your hip. I even recognize your curves and the size of your tits and, like, the shape and color of your nips. Those clips are not really fakes? Are they?”

Mercy shakes her head and feels a stab of bittersweet pain as she recalls the deep anguish and humiliation that those clips caused her when they first showed up on her social media feed. That was when it began to dawn on her that her sadistic snake of a boyfriend, Toby, had sold the videos he had made of their lovemaking to the MEGA Party, so that Oakbeam’s team could produce convincing deepfakes of Mercy being crucified.

When, after her passionate night with Ophelia, Toby had finally telephoned her from Paris, he had been adamant that he knew nothing of Oakbeam’s promise to crucify her, or of the furore in the news media. He had been in an intense impromptu fashion shoot, he pleaded, during which he had been denied access to his phone for four hours. She had believed him, and even forgiven him.

On his return to London, Toby’s sweet talk and ardent protestations of love had made Mercy yearn once more for the feel of his cock inside her. When he came to her apartment – after Ophelia had left – he placed his phone upright on the mantelpiece as usual and tore off all her clothes and fucked her, holding her up vertically from behind in the full nelson position.

He even asked her to stretch out her arms for better balance, and to cross her ankles so her vaginal muscles could squeeze harder on his cock. And submissively she had complied, little knowing that the footage he was recording of her sweaty, heaving, outstretched body would be superimposed by Oakbeam’s people onto a wooden cross, and Toby’s penis replaced with a cornu, to create a highly realistic crucifixion video.

She smiles coyly and says to Emma: “My body is real. But the cross isn’t. The cross is fake … a deepfake … My ex was making love to me, you know, like, standing up, in the living room? …” She blushes.

“In the nelson position? I knew it!” says Emma gleefully. “I just knew it – the second I saw you nude! Spike and me … we reckon those clips are what won the election for Oakbeam. Pure genius! … Everybody saw them and pretended to be disgusted with them. And then everyone started, like, secretly fantasizing about them. And wanking to them.”

She rubs Mercy’s clit with greater vigor and pushes her finger deeper into her anus. Mercy squeals and pants, too embarrassed to admit to Emma that even she herself had masturbated to those videos.

With a lascivious glint in her eyes Emma says: “Shall I let you into my little secret?”

“Yes please, Nurse Emma!” Mercy pleads, her wet lips pouting with expectation.

“I was totally obsessed with those videos. I watched them over and over when they popped up on my feed, frigging myself raw. I even watched them on my tablet as Spike fucked me doggie style, imagining we was, like, making love at the foot of your cross … you can’t imagine how over-the-moon I was when the Sister told me yesterday we’d be processing you on the ward … I went straight to the toilet and brung myself off with my bunny … My panties have been soaking wet since I came on my shift this morning and saw you lying there looking so cute and sexy.``

Mercy whimpers as she listens to Emma’s confessions, and she is seized by an exquisite surge of arousal that carries her within a hair’s tickle of orgasm.

“Oh no you don’t! … Not yet!” says Emma firmly, snatching her fingers out of Mercy’s orifices and allowing her arousal to simmer down. “Not until that man cums on your little fuckbuddy’s face.”

“Yes, Staff Nurse Emma”, says Mercy submissively.

The groaning of the two nailers becomes more and more guttural as Destiny and Ophelia continue to suck and slurp at their cocks while maintaining eye-contact.

“Four minutes to go,” says Emma, looking at the clock.

And observing that the Sister and Cassandra are both engrossed in the orgiastic spectacle, their eyes smoldering in a voyeuristic trance, she bends down and kisses Mercy again, forcing her tongue into her mouth as her fingers reconnect with her throbbing clit.

“Look at them”, she says, breathing heavily as she pulls away. “Look what a try-hard your pathetic little lesbian lover is. Still hoping that being a good cocksucker will get her a stay of execution … Personally, I don’t buy this conversion therapy bullshit. Not one bit of it. I think it’s just an act. I think she’s still a greedy little lesbo slut. Once a dyke, always a dyke, that’s what I say. She just wants to get herself off the hook …”

“Off the hook?”

“Yeah. It does happen. That bitch we had in this morning. The one who went off with Cordelia Boundwell to the Gallows Room – only she actually did get hanged. Well, she was here last month. But Dr. Painjoy took a fancy to her because she gave him amazing head. So he declared her medically unfit to be executed, and took her home to his house as his slave, where he ‘cured’ her in his private medical torture chamber. He’s a bachelor, Dr. Painjoy … Lives alone.” She drops to a whisper. “Actually he’s not a real doctor. His real name’s Melvyn Penge. He was a biology teacher at an all girls’ school, till he got sacked … for you know what with the girls … And don’t get me started on the Sister not being a real nurse …”

The minutes tick by as the nailers start to thoatfuck the two crux girls in earnest.

“U-woahc! U-woahc! U-woahc!” says Ophelia.

“Uhng-c!” “Uhng-c!” “Uhng-c!” says Destiny.

“Oh-fuck! I’m nearly there …” gasps the dirty-blond man.

“Me too!” says the dark-haired man.

“Okay sweetheart”, says the dirty-blond taking his cock out of Mercy’s mouth, “I want you to edge me. Just run your lips along it.”

Ophelia turns her head so that her cute lips run parallel with the length of the man’s penis, giving Mercy a full view of her face.

“Oh god! Baby! That’s awesome! Now use just the tip of your tongue to tickle the tip of it. Oh – god! I am going to – blow – such a huge – fucking load of jizz on your – gorgeous little – face …”

Mercy sees that Cassandra is discreetly playing with herself, reaching down to her sex with one hand while rubbing her nipples with the other.

Ophelia looks so heartbreakingly desirable that Mercy lets out a sob of anguish.

“I’m sorry. But I love Ophelia so much”, she says without thinking to Emma, and immediately regrets it.

Emma bristles with envy.

“Tsk! I bet I can eat you out better than she can”, she says petulantly. And, glancing again at the Sister, and seeing that she is absolutely riveted to the unfolding scene, she bends down and buries her face between Mercy’s splayed thighs, kissing her slick pussy and flicking her tongue vigorously against her clit.

Taken completely by surprise, Mercy squeals. She looks up and locks her shocked, wide-eyed gaze onto Ophelia's face, now partially obscured by the man’s cock.

And then something quite unexpected happens. Ophelia raises her eyes and looks over at her. Her gaze is electrifying. Meeting Mercy’s sad and hungry eyes, she smiles sweetly. Her smile is warm and mischievous, composed and self-aware. This is the unbroken Ophelia with whom Mercy fell in love. The implacable Ophelia who swore never to have a man’s cock inside her ever again. Ophelia of the lambent blue eyes and the impishly dimpled smile.

The Sister has turned her head to follow Ophelia’s line of vision and is staring contemptuously at Emma’s head buried in Mercy’s groin, slurping away at her cunt juices.

Still smiling blithely, Ophelia winks at Mercy.

Then swiftly and with a bird’s grace she turns to confront the man’s rampant member. She sticks out the tip of her tongue so that it brushes faintly against the pulsing unsheathed tip.

“Oooh! Yeah, baby!” he groans.

The other nailer groans too, as Destiny does likewise with her tongue, rubbing the tip enticingly against his glans.

Emma’s shiny black braids lie splayed over Mercy's thighs as her wicked tongue drums away relentlessly at her clit. Mercy feels her entire body gathering itself for a crashing climax.

The blond man groans at Ophelia: “Now, bitch! Make me fucking come! Right now! … Mmmmhhhh!”

Her tongue rapidly circles the tip of his cock, barely touching the engorged purple helmet.

“Oh fuck! Yeah!“

Mercy feels a familiar and exquisite pre-orgasmic tingle radiating through her thighs and buttocks, along her legs all the way into her toes. She wishes her hands were free to rub and pinch her achingly hard nipples … She is only seconds away from cumming … Emma reaches under her and pushes her middle finger deep into her butt.

Ophelia slowly edges the man’s twitching cock, to the point of no return …

And then, with delicate finesse – with the precision and economy of a bird darting at a worm – she flits forward, taking most of the length of him into her mouth again.

“AAAAAAGH!!! FUCK!!! FUCK!!!”, he screams as she snaps her mouth shut, crushing his ejaculating member, grinding it between her strong white teeth.

A split second later and the other man – the dark-haired nailer – screams in equal horror.

“AAAAAAAAGH!!! STOP!!! HELP ME!!!”, he wails.

Destiny’s molars are masticating, tearing, pulverizing his most excruciatingly sensitive body part between powerful jaws.

Is this what the two crux girls planned together in between bouts of lovemaking during their many days locked up in a display cage?

“Hammer!” shrieks the blond, casting around wildly. “Bring hammer!”

Sophie begins to move towards the crux hammers resting on the bed.

“No, Sophie!” says the Sister with remarkable self-possession. “The crux girls must not be maimed or disfigured. Emma, fetch the cattle prod! Sophie, telephone security. This is a matter for them, not us. Doctor, can you help us out?”

Cassandra seems transfixed, rooted to the spot, her fingers still deep inside her vagina.

Grimacing in agony, the dirty-blond man reaches for Ophelia’s throat.

She twists her torso violently, dipping down on one side and raising her patibulum on the other, sweeping around with tremendous force against the side of his head. The solid timber strikes him hard on the temple.

K-thunk!

He falters, his eyes rolling upwards towards the ceiling, and then his knees buckle and give way.

As he drops, Ophelia pounces like a wild animal, launching herself forwards, lunging without relinquishing her predatory hold over his cock.

Now she is an eagle stooping over her prey, dismembering her kill before feasting on his flesh. Her patibulum resembles a majestic pair of outstretched wings.

Mercy can see blood mixed with semen oozing through her clamped lips as she jerks and twists her head in a frenzy of hate.

The other nailer has both hands around Destiny’s throat and is proceeding to throttle her. She does her best to topple herself backwards, taking advantage of the weight of the patibulum, and dragging him forwards by his penis.

But he grabs hold of the timber with one hand and starts punching her relentlessly with the other. Mercy winces at the squelching sound his fist makes as it strikes Destiny’s fine bone structure, transforming her face into a bloody pulp.

“No! Stop that!” shouts the Sister.

“Fuck off!” shouts the man, still punching mercilessly. “Fucking ged ’er off me!”

Destiny is already unconscious by the time the Doctor pushes a hypodermic needle into her neck. Yet her vice-like jaws refuse to yield their catch.

“Ged ‘er fucking teeth open!” screams her victim.

Ophelia, a few feet away, is now bent on a single purpose. Thrashing wildly, jerking her head from side to side, she is tearing her semi-conscious rapist’s penis from its root, tugging and ripping at the spongy flesh in an orgy of vengeance.

She achieves her purpose just as Emma comes up behind her with a cattle prod. Mercy sees a fountain of blood gushing from the man’s groin as the final sinews of his organ give way and snap.

Emma holds back with the cattle prod and stares in wide-eyed bemusement.

Ophelia turns to look at Mercy, her would-be executioner’s severed cock protruding between crimson teeth.

Confronted with this spectacle, Mercy feels an icy chill take hold of her. This is no longer Ophelia.

This is a creature of myth. Ophelia has become one of the harpies, denizens of Dante’s Infernal Wood, ghouls with the faces of girls, instruments of nemesis who devour the flesh of mortals and carry them off to the abyss of Tartarus on the wings of eagles.

The dirty-blond nailer is weeping on the floor. Sweaty and open-mouthed, he is shivering in shock.

Still on her knees, Ophelia bends down over his face. With a sharp exhalation she lets the mangled piece of flesh drop from her teeth.

It falls into his mouth, peeping out like a pale and shriveled slug. A globule of blood-streaked semen oozes slowly from its tip and settles on his chin.
 

CruxGirl

Magistrate
Very good @CruxGirl! Intense and erotic!
And very interesting the change in Mercy‘s mind about her imminent ordeal. Perhaps a mechanism of defence?
Please, continue!
Thanks @carloscruz. That's a great insight. I hadn't actually thought that much about the psychological process that led to Mercy's change of mind, except for maybe a vague idea that her existing predisposition towards BDSM, the mental trauma inflicted on her by the nurses and her belief that Ophelia has been broken, have all combined to break her. But I think that defense mechanism can work just as well.
 

carloscruz

Governor
Thanks @carloscruz. That's a great insight. I hadn't actually thought that much about the psychological process that led to Mercy's change of mind, except for maybe a vague idea that her existing predisposition towards BDSM, the mental trauma inflicted on her by the nurses and her belief that Ophelia has been broken, have all combined to break her. But I think that defense mechanism can work just as well.
And, for me, the story is even more erotic because the narrative from a female point of view.
 

crumera

Crucifier of Pixels
Well she had her fun.. now it is time to nail her up :D
 
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