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Crucifixion of a Weather Girl

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CruxGirl

Assistant executioner
CruxGirl you are brilliant and I love your monicker
Thank you kristinhardy! When I first stumbled upon cruxforums a few years ago I became so excited that - in my eagerness to create an account - I used the first moniker that came into my head. On occasion I've regretted my choice, thinking I should have taken my time to think up something more cryptic or clever or classical. But I've kind of grown to like it, and I guess it pretty much sums me up.
 

CruxGirl

Assistant executioner
Part 9

Cassandra and the nurses desperately plead their innocence.

The atmosphere in the ward has changed dramatically. The jovial professionalism has yielded to a palpable fear and suspicion.

Emma, usually so savvy and assured, appears deeply vexed, biting down on her plump lower lip as if deep in thought.

Sophie is flushed and breathless, her big breasts heaving hard against her tight, low-cut tunic.

Mercy observes them, fascinated.

She glances at Cassandra.

Cassandra looks back at her with dread in her intense blue eyes, and with a barely perceptible shake of the head, she implores Mercy not to tell on her.

Emma turns sharply to face the Sister, her heavy box braids flying outwards as she swings around.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she shrieks. “It has to be Cassandra! She’s been alone with her for most of the last hour!”

“No! It wasn’t me!” says Cassandra, breaking into a sob. “I didn’t do it, I didn’t …”

“... I mean … we all know what she gets up to. The way she drools over the crux girls, especially the young and pretty ones … gives them those silly information booklets, telling them that getting nailed up on their crosses is gonna give them, like, these amazing kinky orgasms and all that rubbish. Telling them how lucky they are. I mean … it was only two months ago that she got caught going down on that eighteen-year old girl. You know, that sixth former in Ward 3? She actually made her cum just before they took her out and nailed her up. And of course Cassandra got off scot free, cos her husband plays golf with the CEO. I mean, like, where’s the justice in that? She breaks the law, commits treason, all the time just for sexual kicks! Cos she obviously wants to get caught and punished! Look at her! She’s a crux-slut. You can see it in her eyes! Plain as day! It was her! It couldn’t have been anyone else who gave water to the weather slut!”

“... No! No! I’d never betray my country! I swear on my husband’s life, I didn’t give her any water! Why would I do anything so stupid?” Cassandra casts around wildly, looking for support. “What about you, Emma? When … when you took her down to x-ray? You could have given her the water then! You had a perfect opportunity!” She turns to face the Sister. “It’s perfectly obvious that Emma’s after your job, Sister! She undermines you at every opportunity. Says snide things about you all the time. She knew very well that giving water to Miss Skreemings was going to make her vomit. So she did it - just to undermine you, and make you look incompetent. Please, please, believe me, Sister!”

The Sister’s handsome face remains inscrutable.

“Oh for crying out loud, Sister!” Emma implores, her lovely black almond-shaped eyes flashing in anger, and a sheen of perspiration on her dark skin. “It’s common knowledge what a sick pervert Cassandra is! I mean … Helen from the Gallows Room lives in the same complex as her, and she told me that Cassandra’s husband ties her up for, like, hours on a cross in the garage and whips her and … and invites his golfing partners around to fuck her, while she’s on her cross! ...”

She pauses as if realising the gravity of her words. She has clearly crossed a line in terms of her professional conduct. But there is no turning back. And so she continues, with even greater fervor:

“... You must have heard the rumors that … that she shoves jiggle balls up her cunt and … and gives herself multiple orgasms when she goes to the Park to watch girls do the crux dance. I mean, like, it’s fucking obvious she wants to get herself crucified! We should just turn her in right now, and save us all the trouble. Everyone knows it’s what she fucking fantasizes about! All the fucking time!”

Cassandra brings her hands up to her face and breaks down and sobs. “Why are you being so horrible to me, Emma? Why do you hate me so much? What have I ever done to you?”

“Enough!” barks the Sister.

Fists clenched on either side of her hourglass waist, she takes a stride towards Emma pushing her shoulders back to give her bosom even greater prominence .

“Staff Nurse Emma! I will not tolerate such foul language on my ward! I’ve a good mind to report you for gross misconduct and have you summoned naked to the next Board Meeting and whipped until you scream like a crux girl! Is that understood? I keep a clean ward, and will not stand for unprofessional behavior. Never forget, young lady, that I can break you like a twig at any time.”

“I’m sorry, Sister,” says Emma sheepishly. “It’s just that ...”, she trails off in a diminuendo of mumbling.

“In England we are governed by the rule of law”, says the Sister. “To establish guilt we require hard evidence, not speculation, rumor or hysteria. Bring me the telephone.”

Sophie dutifully dashes over to fetch it, almost letting it drop from her trembling fingers as she hands it over.

“Before I call security I shall give Miss Skreemings an opportunity to tell me who has betrayed us. I’m afraid this incident will reflect very badly on all of us. If we don’t get to the bottom of it I’ll have no choice but to initiate a formal inquiry. And that will inevitably involve the MEGA-Squad. There will be repercussions for all of us, and the reputation of Execution Ward 2 will be badly tarnished.”

She turns to Mercy with an inquisitorial stare, arching her immaculately microbladed eyebrows in expectation of a reply.

“Well?”

Mercy meets her stare without flinching, her lips sealed imperiously.

Again she savors that precious thrill of power pulsing through her veins, hitting her brain like high-grade cocaine. A moment or two ago she was just a piece of meat. Now she holds sway over these crazy women. Now she is the focal point of their anxious attention. Now they are waiting with bated breath for her to speak.

Cassandra is wilting. Her cheeks have a pallor to match Mercy’s bed linen. Shoulders hunched, arms drooping willow-like, she weeps silently, turning every few seconds to glance at the doorway as if calculating a means of escape.

She has the air of a schoolgirl waiting her turn to be called forward by the headmistress for a brutal caning.

And in spite of the hopelessness of her own predicament, the sight of Cassandra in this situation sends a spasm of excitement through Mercy’s belly and a delectable rush of blood into her loins.

The Sister addresses Mercy again, this time in a softened almost ingratiating tone:

“Sweetheart, I’m afraid I won’t be able to do anything to lessen the excruciating pain you’ll be made to suffer this afternoon. But I do have the power to allow you a little more dignity. I could get you that skirt and top you so desperately crave. And perhaps a nice bra into the bargain.”

Lasciviously, the Sister runs the tip of her tongue across her upper lip and glances down again at her own voluptuous cleavage.

“But only if you choose to cooperate with me.”

Mercy runs her eyes along the exquisitely lacy edges of the Sister’s purloined dark red bra, just barely visible above the low neckline of her nurse’s uniform.

“And if I do cooperate”, she says pointedly, “how will the ‘traitor’ be punished?”

“Since our traitor is most certainly a woman I expect she’ll be dealt with under the emergency powers, and crucified this very afternoon, quite probably alongside you. But I’ll need enough evidence to satisfy the Home Secretary.”

This elicits another sob from Cassandra.

“So you want me to snitch on someone who’s been kind to me?” says Mercy. “Just for giving me water when I was thirsty! Seriously? Are you really that evil? What difference does it make to you that I drank water? I’ll be dead by tomorrow anyway!”

The Sister sighs, puts down the phone, and plants her curvy bottom on the edge of Mercy’s bed moving one shapely black-stockinged leg over another with a crackle of static. Mercy watches the short hem of this dreadful - and yet rather beautiful - woman’s crisp white uniform ride up over her thigh.

She leans in and with delicate fingers brushes some stray locks of reddish gold hair away from Mercy’s face. Once again Mercy catches the smell of disinfectant on her manicured hands.
.
“Sweetheart, I need to explain something to you”, she says gently. “Last night, before we put you to sleep we gave you a purgative, an antiseptic, to cleanse your stomach and digestive tract. Just as, this morning, Emma gave you an enema to cleanse your rear end. You see, purging eliminates the need for meatgirls to be gutted before spit roasting. It’s physically impossible to keep a gutted girl alive during the cooking process, and your meat will very likely be assessed as Prime. Probably the very highest grade of Prime. And so, Dr Painjoy came up with this very clever idea of having you purged beforehand. Unfortunately, the water and the vomiting may have rendered the purgative ineffective, so we’ll have to see what the Doctor ...”

“Stop!” Mercy screams at the top of her voice in the Sister’s face and swings her arm out to strike at her. The Sister deflects the blow with her forearm. “Stop fucking telling me these things! I don’t want to hear them!”, Mercy shouts.

Emma steps forward and takes hold of both Mercy’s arms twisting them in a painful lock behind her back. “Did the little slut hurt you, Sister?”
 

carloscruz

Governor
Part 9

Cassandra and the nurses desperately plead their innocence.

The atmosphere in the ward has changed dramatically. The jovial professionalism has yielded to a palpable fear and suspicion.

Emma, usually so savvy and assured, appears deeply vexed, biting down on her plump lower lip as if deep in thought.

Sophie is flushed and breathless, her big breasts heaving hard against her tight, low-cut tunic.

Mercy observes them, fascinated.

She glances at Cassandra.

Cassandra looks back at her with dread in her intense blue eyes, and with a barely perceptible shake of the head, she implores Mercy not to tell on her.

Emma turns sharply to face the Sister, her heavy box braids flying outwards as she swings around.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she shrieks. “It has to be Cassandra! She’s been alone with her for most of the last hour!”

“No! It wasn’t me!” says Cassandra, breaking into a sob. “I didn’t do it, I didn’t …”

“... I mean … we all know what she gets up to. The way she drools over the crux girls, especially the young and pretty ones … gives them those silly information booklets, telling them that getting nailed up on their crosses is gonna give them, like, these amazing kinky orgasms and all that rubbish. Telling them how lucky they are. I mean … it was only two months ago that she got caught going down on that eighteen-year old girl. You know, that sixth former in Ward 3? She actually made her cum just before they took her out and nailed her up. And of course Cassandra got off scot free, cos her husband plays golf with the CEO. I mean, like, where’s the justice in that? She breaks the law, commits treason, all the time just for sexual kicks! Cos she obviously wants to get caught and punished! Look at her! She’s a crux-slut. You can see it in her eyes! Plain as day! It was her! It couldn’t have been anyone else who gave water to the weather slut!”

“... No! No! I’d never betray my country! I swear on my husband’s life, I didn’t give her any water! Why would I do anything so stupid?” Cassandra casts around wildly, looking for support. “What about you, Emma? When … when you took her down to x-ray? You could have given her the water then! You had a perfect opportunity!” She turns to face the Sister. “It’s perfectly obvious that Emma’s after your job, Sister! She undermines you at every opportunity. Says snide things about you all the time. She knew very well that giving water to Miss Skreemings was going to make her vomit. So she did it - just to undermine you, and make you look incompetent. Please, please, believe me, Sister!”

The Sister’s handsome face remains inscrutable.

“Oh for crying out loud, Sister!” Emma implores, her lovely black almond-shaped eyes flashing in anger, and a sheen of perspiration on her dark skin. “It’s common knowledge what a sick pervert Cassandra is! I mean … Helen from the Gallows Room lives in the same complex as her, and she told me that Cassandra’s husband ties her up for, like, hours on a cross in the garage and whips her and … and invites his golfing partners around to fuck her, while she’s on her cross! ...”

She pauses as if realising the gravity of her words. She has clearly crossed a line in terms of her professional conduct. But there is no turning back. And so she continues, with even greater fervor:

“... You must have heard the rumors that … that she shoves jiggle balls up her cunt and … and gives herself multiple orgasms when she goes to the Park to watch girls do the crux dance. I mean, like, it’s fucking obvious she wants to get herself crucified! We should just turn her in right now, and save us all the trouble. Everyone knows it’s what she fucking fantasizes about! All the fucking time!”

Cassandra brings her hands up to her face and breaks down and sobs. “Why are you being so horrible to me, Emma? Why do you hate me so much? What have I ever done to you?”

“Enough!” barks the Sister.

Fists clenched on either side of her hourglass waist, she takes a stride towards Emma pushing her shoulders back to give her bosom even greater prominence .

“Staff Nurse Emma! I will not tolerate such foul language on my ward! I’ve a good mind to report you for gross misconduct and have you summoned naked to the next Board Meeting and whipped until you scream like a crux girl! Is that understood? I keep a clean ward, and will not stand for unprofessional behavior. Never forget, young lady, that I can break you like a twig at any time.”

“I’m sorry, Sister,” says Emma sheepishly. “It’s just that ...”, she trails off in a diminuendo of mumbling.

“In England we are governed by the rule of law”, says the Sister. “To establish guilt we require hard evidence, not speculation, rumor or hysteria. Bring me the telephone.”

Sophie dutifully dashes over to fetch it, almost letting it drop from her trembling fingers as she hands it over.

“Before I call security I shall give Miss Skreemings an opportunity to tell me who has betrayed us. I’m afraid this incident will reflect very badly on all of us. If we don’t get to the bottom of it I’ll have no choice but to initiate a formal inquiry. And that will inevitably involve the MEGA-Squad. There will be repercussions for all of us, and the reputation of Execution Ward 2 will be badly tarnished.”

She turns to Mercy with an inquisitorial stare, arching her immaculately microbladed eyebrows in expectation of a reply.

“Well?”

Mercy meets her stare without flinching, her lips sealed imperiously.

Again she savors that precious thrill of power pulsing through her veins, hitting her brain like high-grade cocaine. A moment or two ago she was just a piece of meat. Now she holds sway over these crazy women. Now she is the focal point of their anxious attention. Now they are waiting with bated breath for her to speak.

Cassandra is wilting. Her cheeks have a pallor to match Mercy’s bed linen. Shoulders hunched, arms drooping willow-like, she weeps silently, turning every few seconds to glance at the doorway as if calculating a means of escape.

She has the air of a schoolgirl waiting her turn to be called forward by the headmistress for a brutal caning.

And in spite of the hopelessness of her own predicament, the sight of Cassandra in this situation sends a spasm of excitement through Mercy’s belly and a delectable rush of blood into her loins.

The Sister addresses Mercy again, this time in a softened almost ingratiating tone:

“Sweetheart, I’m afraid I won’t be able to do anything to lessen the excruciating pain you’ll be made to suffer this afternoon. But I do have the power to allow you a little more dignity. I could get you that skirt and top you so desperately crave. And perhaps a nice bra into the bargain.”

Lasciviously, the Sister runs the tip of her tongue across her upper lip and glances down again at her own voluptuous cleavage.

“But only if you choose to cooperate with me.”

Mercy runs her eyes along the exquisitely lacy edges of the Sister’s purloined dark red bra, just barely visible above the low neckline of her nurse’s uniform.

“And if I do cooperate”, she says pointedly, “how will the ‘traitor’ be punished?”

“Since our traitor is most certainly a woman I expect she’ll be dealt with under the emergency powers, and crucified this very afternoon, quite probably alongside you. But I’ll need enough evidence to satisfy the Home Secretary.”

This elicits another sob from Cassandra.

“So you want me to snitch on someone who’s been kind to me?” says Mercy. “Just for giving me water when I was thirsty! Seriously? Are you really that evil? What difference does it make to you that I drank water? I’ll be dead by tomorrow anyway!”

The Sister sighs, puts down the phone, and plants her curvy bottom on the edge of Mercy’s bed moving one shapely black-stockinged leg over another with a crackle of static. Mercy watches the short hem of this dreadful - and yet rather beautiful - woman’s crisp white uniform ride up over her thigh.

She leans in and with delicate fingers brushes some stray locks of reddish gold hair away from Mercy’s face. Once again Mercy catches the smell of disinfectant on her manicured hands.
.
“Sweetheart, I need to explain something to you”, she says gently. “Last night, before we put you to sleep we gave you a purgative, an antiseptic, to cleanse your stomach and digestive tract. Just as, this morning, Emma gave you an enema to cleanse your rear end. You see, purging eliminates the need for meatgirls to be gutted before spit roasting. It’s physically impossible to keep a gutted girl alive during the cooking process, and your meat will very likely be assessed as Prime. Probably the very highest grade of Prime. And so, Dr Painjoy came up with this very clever idea of having you purged beforehand. Unfortunately, the water and the vomiting may have rendered the purgative ineffective, so we’ll have to see what the Doctor ...”

“Stop!” Mercy screams at the top of her voice in the Sister’s face and swings her arm out to strike at her. The Sister deflects the blow with her forearm. “Stop fucking telling me these things! I don’t want to hear them!”, Mercy shouts.

Emma steps forward and takes hold of both Mercy’s arms twisting them in a painful lock behind her back. “Did the little slut hurt you, Sister?”
I enjoyed very much this part too. Thanks a lot Cruxgirl.
I am already looking forward reading the next!
 

carloscruz

Governor
Hi Cruxgirl!
I hope everything goes well.
Any idea when will we be able to enjoy the crucifixion of our weather girl?
Pleeeeaaaseeeee!!!!!
 

CruxGirl

Assistant executioner
Hi Cruxgirl!
I hope everything goes well.
Any idea when will we be able to enjoy the crucifixion of our weather girl?
Pleeeeaaaseeeee!!!!!
Yes I'm fine thank you carloscruz. I've been really busy at work these past few weeks. Haven't been able to find time or headspace to write anything. I might be able to write something within the next week or two.
 

CruxGirl

Assistant executioner
First things, first.
I just hope you finish such a interesting (and exciting story)!
I also find that being unable to meet and mingle with people physically - in tutorials, lectures, faculty meetings, bookshops, movie theaters, cafes, restaurants, or even on crowded streets and subways - well, it kind of takes the richness and the immediacy out of my erotic fantasies. You know what I mean? I no longer have that amazingly complex tapestry of social interactions to draw on. Zoom makes everything so stale, flat and unprofitable. Perhaps the biggest loss of all in not being able to breathe the same air as the people you're talking to is not breathing in their pheromones, and missing out on that subtle, powerful language of subconscious animal attraction.
 

carloscruz

Governor
I also find that being unable to meet and mingle with people physically - in tutorials, lectures, faculty meetings, bookshops, movie theaters, cafes, restaurants, or even on crowded streets and subways - well, it kind of takes the richness and the immediacy out of my erotic fantasies. You know what I mean? I no longer have that amazingly complex tapestry of social interactions to draw on. Zoom makes everything so stale, flat and unprofitable. Perhaps the biggest loss of all in not being able to breathe the same air as the people you're talking to is not breathing in their pheromones, and missing out on that subtle, powerful language of subconscious animal attraction.
I totally understand. But let’s hope we will recover all that.
Myself, I seldom fly now. And I miss the sky.
But still a person that can write :

“...Perhaps the biggest loss of all in not being able to breathe the same air as the people you're talking to is not breathing in their pheromones, and missing out on that subtle, powerful language of subconscious animal attraction.”

Oww! We need you writing Cruxgirl, more than ever!

P.D. I love looking at your avatar too!
 
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