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Crucifixion of a Weather Girl

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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.
 
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?”
 
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!
 
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.
 
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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Part 10


“No, Emma. The vicious little slut did not hurt me,” says the Sister coldly, sounding slightly shaken. “Sophie, dearest, could you fetch me a gag?”

“No! No! Please! No! Not the gag again!” Mercy wails. “If you’re going to murder me, then do it already! Just send me out there now! I just want to leave this horrid, horrid room! I’ll be a good painslut ... if - if that’s what you want. I’ll let them do whatever they want to me. I won’t complain. When they whip me I‘ll be very polite. I … I’ll even thank them for punishing me! I probably deserve it. I … I’ll lie down on my cross when it’s my turn and let them hammer the nails in. I won’t struggle. I’ll try not to scream! Just take me out, and … and … LET THEM DO WHATEVER THE FUCK THEY WANT TO ME!”

She breaks down and weeps bitterly, absolutely certain that she would rather face the world, the crowds and the cameras than stay here to be tormented by these vile women. Crowds and cameras have always been her friends. She knows how to win them over with her hot body and engaging smile. Everyone loved her when she was a weather girl, and she knows there will be plenty of friendly and sympathetic faces among the spectators when she goes out into the fresh air and the sunlight. They will give her the strength to endure the pain and the humiliation … And maybe … maybe, when they see how barbarically she is being treated, the good people of England will rise up against their evil, sadistic government, and Mercy will be saved ...

“You know … it’s funny”, says the Sister, cutting into her thoughts, “but, after spending the morning in here with us, the sluts sentenced to be cruxed always beg and plead - just like you’re doing now - to be allowed out to face the great English public. Of course, once they come up against the dark salt-tide of sadism moving through that cold ocean of faces … they swiftly change their minds and beg and scream to be allowed back in here. Strange.”

Sophie pushes the ball gag into Mercy’s mouth and tightens the straps behind her head.

“Is that comfortable?” she asks innocently.

Mercy nods, bewildered by Sophie’s seeming concern for her comfort.

“You see, Miss Skreemings,” the Sister continues, “being in here with us is the first stage of your punishment, and by far, the least unpleasant. As for your touching little fantasy of patiently waiting your turn and passively lying down and letting them hammer these vicious beauties into your wrists and ankles”, she picks up the nails, holds them in front of Mercy’s face, “well, I’m sorry to disabuse you, but the last thing the Government wants is a simpering little martyr playing to the crowd: a meek little goody-two-shoes compliantly walking to her crucifixion.”

As she speaks, she reaches around to untie the laces at the back of Mercy’s hospital nightie and gestures to Emma to let go of her arms.

“You see, sweetheart, it’s our job to break you. When we’ve finished with you, you’ll literally be just a whimpering piece of meat, pure masturbation fodder for the people of England, and whoever else wishes to buy the TV rights to your snuffing. Nothing more.”

With a practiced movement the Sister and Emma pluck the hospital nightie over Mercy’s head, leaving her naked except for her panties.

Deprived by the gag of any means of protest, she instinctively brings her hands up to her breasts to try and cover her dark pink areolae. She is giddy with panic and can feel her heart pounding against her fingertips. She can also feel that her nipples are hard and stiff like pencil erasers.

The Sister breaks into a chuckle. “You’ve got quite a handful to manage there, haven’t you, sweetheart? But you won’t be able to hide them when your arms are stretched out along that big piece of timber over there. Those lovely plump breasts will be on show to the whole world. Just think how much more confident you’d feel going out to meet the crowds wearing a sexy brassiere and a lovely silk blouse.”

“And maybe a nice, smart, knee-length skirt and a pair of Jimmy Choos”, Emma chimes in enthusiastically, as she presses a button, which causes the back portion of the mattress to rise up behind Mercy at an angle of 45 degrees.“The Sister could get you a killer wardrobe if you put her in a good mood. All you need to do is help her catch the traitor. Isn’t that true, Sister?”

The Sister pushes Mercy hard against the raised mattress and takes hold of her right hand, prising it away from her breast, pulling it back and stretching it along the metal bedstead. Emma does likewise with her other arm, and Mercy feels a pair of cold metal restraints clicking into place around her wrists..

“Of course, our traitor will be very smartly dressed when she comes to watch you suffer...”, says the Sister, casting a disdainful glance towards Cassandra, who by now is sitting perched on a stool - arms folded over her breasts, stockinged legs tightly twisted around one another. With wet lips slightly parted, and eyes misty with lust, Cassandra is eagerly drinking in what is being done to Mercy.

Mercy is amazed that she has not fled the scene. Why doesn’t she just leave before they come to arrest her?

“... Our traitor always is … very elegantly dressed, in a preppy sort of way,” the Sister continues matter-of-factly. “And she’ll be storing up years of material for her little masturbatory fantasies as she listens to your screams and watches you buck and twist your million-dollar body against your raised cross. Actually, I can guarantee that you’ll sell for more than a million dollars at the meat auction. The King of Asspankia and the President of Gangbangia will be bidding hard against one another, each one desperate to make a gift of your cruxed and live-roasted flesh to the Prime Minister of England. Firm young redheads like you always taste delicious. Isn’t that so, Cassandra?”

Cassandra gives a weak smile, keeping her eyes nailed immovably to Mercy’s exposed breasts.

The Sister turns to Sophie: “I think it’s time we got Miss Skreemings’s cornu ready,” she says, “so that the Doctor can calibrate it. And … Goodness! It almost slipped my mind … I need to call security about our traitor.”

“Certainly, Sister”, says Sophie, picking up the phone and handing it back to the Sister. “I’ll go and fetch Miss Skreemings’s cornu.”

With a radiant smile, the pretty little blonde nurse skips eagerly towards the storeroom.

The Sister dials a number, and cradling the phone with her shoulder, she reaches down the side of Mercy’s bed and pulls up a looped leather strap.

Emma does likewise on the other side and before Mercy has time to react they pass the loops over her feet and ankles, along her smooth slim calves as far as her knees.

Emma presses another button and the straps begin to retract, hoisting up Mercy’s bent knees and drawing her thighs wide apart, leaving her feet dangling helplessly. She screams into her gag and frantically kicks her feet up and down, tugging hysterically at her wrist restraints.

“Ah! Hello Rory”, says the Sister speaking into the phone, this is Sister Rosemary Gently-Browning from Execution Ward Two … I’m very well thank you. I’d like to report a crime … Well … there appears to be a traitor in our midst … Indeed. A capital offense. Giving aid and comfort to the enemy … It seems that someone has given water to one of our condemned ladies … Yes … to Mercy Skreemings … ”

She glances up at the lightbulb above Mercy’s bed.

“Camera Four … I assume you and the boys are watching it, even as we speak ... “ She chuckles and smiles. “Just as I thought … Getting a great view of Mercy Skreemings’s tits are we? … They certainly are … Stupendous. And we’re just about to expose the little slut’s cunt.” She laughs. “I know you too well, Rory … Well, I’d like you to check Camera Four for the last four hours. In fact, I think you should check all the cameras … For any suspicious behavior on the part of hospital staff. And most particularly, for evidence of anyone giving a drink to Mercy Skreemings ... Excellent. And when you’ve identified the perpetrator, will you be calling the MEGA-Squad? … Good. That’s very sensible … Yes, it would save time. Our traitor could be processed on-site under the emergency powers and sent out for summary crucifixion - assuming, of course, that our traitor is a woman … and I have a strong suspicion that she is - and a very pretty one at that.” She gives Cassandra an icy smile. “Good. Speak to you soon, Rory, my love … Goodbye.”

As the Sister puts the phone down, Cassandra gets up from her stool, mumbles an excuse, and starts walking briskly towards the door.

The Sister calls after her: “Leaving us already Cassandra? But you haven’t made your report to the Doctor about Miss Skreemings. By the way, if you’re thinking of going out, I’m afraid the hospital exits are being sealed until our traitor is caught …”

“Oh, erm, … I just thought I’d best go and … look for the Doctor. The … fact that Mercy, I mean Miss Skreemings, has been vomiting could have ramifications for … her, erm, … serum electrolyte balance, and her sodium, not to mention her mental health, and, that could have a detrimental effect on the erm - you know - flavor of her meat, when they roast her ...We don’t want the Prime Minister to be served with tough or bitter girlmeat ...”

“Absolutely not,” says the Sister emphatically. “Good thinking, Cassandra. You’re ahead of the curve, as usual. You’d best go and look for Dr. Painjoy. I’m beginning to wonder where he is. He should be here doing his round by now.”

At Cassandra’s mention of roasting her meat, Mercy lashes out at the Sister with the only parts of her body still free to move. Kicking out frantically with her lower legs, her big toe only narrowly misses the Sister’s chin.

The Sister backs away and sighs melodramatically. “Oh dear, Miss Skreemings. I suppose we'll have to secure those feet as well.”

Emma reaches into her pocket and pulls out a roll of adhesive tape and a pair of scissors. The Sister bends Mercy’s knees, forcing her calves hard against the backs of her thighs, while Emma secures them with the tape.

“Excellent work, Emma. Just one last little detail, and we’re all set. My oh my, just look at the little trollope’s gusset. Those knickers are literally soaked in your vaginal juices, Miss Skreemings. I’m beginning to suspect that all that whining and complaining about us has been nothing but a sham. I think you’ve been rather enjoying your time with us. What do you think, Staff Nurse?”

Emma shrieks with laughter. “If us girls are having this effect on her, you can bet that she’ll squirt when my boyfriend gets to work.”

“Absolutely. You’ll find that Emma’s fiancé, Spike, is very good looking and very well-hung, Miss Skreemings, as, indeed, are the other two nailers. They’ll be along any minute with Dr. Painjoy, and they’ll get to rape you first. I’ve no doubt you’ll enjoy the experience.”

The two women giggle gleefully. And Emma looks far more relaxed than she did a few minutes ago, after her intemperate outburst with the Sister.

Reassured at being back in the Sister’s good books, the beautiful African-Caribbean nurse now grins at Mercy, showing her immaculate white teeth. Mercy tenses as Emma holds up the shiny surgical scissors. With a flourish she takes some theatrical snips at the air, and then bends down and slips the cold instrument under the skimpiest part of Mercy’s lavender-colored silk panties. With one snip they are rendered useless.

Then with thumb and finger Emma gives them a sharp pluck, and Mercy squeals into her gag, feeling an intense sting of sexual pleasure as the warm wet silk passes roughly over her labia, biting into her cleft and snagging on her engorged clit.

“There, all done,” says Emma, tossing the soaking panties into the bin,

Thighs splayed, her pouting pussy lips wet and glistening, this is by far the most humiliating situation that Mercy has ever found herself in.

“That’s a lovely compact little vulva” says the Sister, running two fingers gently up and down the length of Mercy’s slick sex, “and such plump juicy labia.” She sucks at the tips of her fingers. “Mmm … Scrumptious! The Prime Minister will be very pleased. I have it on good authority that cunt steak is his favorite.”

Mercy weeps silently. Huge salty tears run down her cheeks, and a rivulet of drool finds its way past the ball gag and moves down her chin, dripping slowly onto her breast.

Sophie returns carrying a large black case. She places it on the bed a few inches from Mercy’s bottom, and opens it. Mercy can see that it contains a number of implements. Sophie carefully lifts out a long black object, the size and shape of a very large phallus.

“I thought this size would be best”, she says. “Nine inches?”

“Excellent choice,” says the Sister.

“Sensational choice!” says a voice from the doorway.

The nurses turn their heads and see a tall, dapper man - dark haired and graying at the temples - dressed in a dark suit, walking briskly towards them with a slightly mincing gait.

Cassandra emerges following closely behind.
 
Part 10


“No, Emma. The vicious little slut did not hurt me,” says the Sister coldly, sounding slightly shaken. “Sophie, dearest, could you fetch me a gag?”

“No! No! Please! No! Not the gag again!” Mercy wails. “If you’re going to murder me, then do it already! Just send me out there now! I just want to leave this horrid, horrid room! I’ll be a good painslut ... if - if that’s what you want. I’ll let them do whatever they want to me. I won’t complain. When they whip me I‘ll be very polite. I … I’ll even thank them for punishing me! I probably deserve it. I … I’ll lie down on my cross when it’s my turn and let them hammer the nails in. I won’t struggle. I’ll try not to scream! Just take me out, and … and … LET THEM DO WHATEVER THE FUCK THEY WANT TO ME!”

She breaks down and weeps bitterly, absolutely certain that she would rather face the world, the crowds and the cameras than stay here to be tormented by these vile women. Crowds and cameras have always been her friends. She knows how to win them over with her hot body and engaging smile. Everyone loved her when she was a weather girl, and she knows there will be plenty of friendly and sympathetic faces among the spectators when she goes out into the fresh air and the sunlight. They will give her the strength to endure the pain and the humiliation … And maybe … maybe, when they see how barbarically she is being treated, the good people of England will rise up against their evil, sadistic government, and Mercy will be saved ...

“You know … it’s funny”, says the Sister, cutting into her thoughts, “but, after spending the morning in here with us, the sluts sentenced to be cruxed always beg and plead - just like you’re doing now - to be allowed out to face the great English public. Of course, once they come up against the dark salt-tide of sadism moving through that cold ocean of faces … they swiftly change their minds and beg and scream to be allowed back in here. Strange.”

Sophie pushes the ball gag into Mercy’s mouth and tightens the straps behind her head.

“Is that comfortable?” she asks innocently.

Mercy nods, bewildered by Sophie’s seeming concern for her comfort.

“You see, Miss Skreemings,” the Sister continues, “being in here with us is the first stage of your punishment, and by far, the least unpleasant. As for your touching little fantasy of patiently waiting your turn and passively lying down and letting them hammer these vicious beauties into your wrists and ankles”, she picks up the nails, holds them in front of Mercy’s face, “well, I’m sorry to disabuse you, but the last thing the Government wants is a simpering little martyr playing to the crowd: a meek little goody-two-shoes compliantly walking to her crucifixion.”

As she speaks, she reaches around to untie the laces at the back of Mercy’s hospital nightie and gestures to Emma to let go of her arms.

“You see, sweetheart, it’s our job to break you. When we’ve finished with you, you’ll literally be just a whimpering piece of meat, pure masturbation fodder for the people of England, and whoever else wishes to buy the TV rights to your snuffing. Nothing more.”

With a practiced movement the Sister and Emma pluck the hospital nightie over Mercy’s head, leaving her naked except for her panties.

Deprived by the gag of any means of protest, she instinctively brings her hands up to her breasts to try and cover her dark pink areolae. She is giddy with panic and can feel her heart pounding against her fingertips. She can also feel that her nipples are hard and stiff like pencil erasers.

The Sister breaks into a chuckle. “You’ve got quite a handful to manage there, haven’t you, sweetheart? But you won’t be able to hide them when your arms are stretched out along that big piece of timber over there. Those lovely plump breasts will be on show to the whole world. Just think how much more confident you’d feel going out to meet the crowds wearing a sexy brassiere and a lovely silk blouse.”

“And maybe a nice, smart, knee-length skirt and a pair of Jimmy Choos”, Emma chimes in enthusiastically, as she presses a button, which causes the back portion of the mattress to rise up behind Mercy at an angle of 45 degrees.“The Sister could get you a killer wardrobe if you put her in a good mood. All you need to do is help her catch the traitor. Isn’t that true, Sister?”

The Sister pushes Mercy hard against the raised mattress and takes hold of her right hand, prising it away from her breast, pulling it back and stretching it along the metal bedstead. Emma does likewise with her other arm, and Mercy feels a pair of cold metal restraints clicking into place around her wrists..

“Of course, our traitor will be very smartly dressed when she comes to watch you suffer...”, says the Sister, casting a disdainful glance towards Cassandra, who by now is sitting perched on a stool - arms folded over her breasts, stockinged legs tightly twisted around one another. With wet lips slightly parted, and eyes misty with lust, Cassandra is eagerly drinking in what is being done to Mercy.

Mercy is amazed that she has not fled the scene. Why doesn’t she just leave before they come to arrest her?

“... Our traitor always is … very elegantly dressed, in a preppy sort of way,” the Sister continues matter-of-factly. “And she’ll be storing up years of material for her little masturbatory fantasies as she listens to your screams and watches you buck and twist your million-dollar body against your raised cross. Actually, I can guarantee that you’ll sell for more than a million dollars at the meat auction. The King of Asspankia and the President of Gangbangia will be bidding hard against one another, each one desperate to make a gift of your cruxed and live-roasted flesh to the Prime Minister of England. Firm young redheads like you always taste delicious. Isn’t that so, Cassandra?”

Cassandra gives a weak smile, keeping her eyes nailed immovably to Mercy’s exposed breasts.

The Sister turns to Sophie: “I think it’s time we got Miss Skreemings’s cornu ready,” she says, “so that the Doctor can calibrate it. And … Goodness! It almost slipped my mind … I need to call security about our traitor.”

“Certainly, Sister”, says Sophie, picking up the phone and handing it back to the Sister. “I’ll go and fetch Miss Skreemings’s cornu.”

With a radiant smile, the pretty little blonde nurse skips eagerly towards the storeroom.

The Sister dials a number, and cradling the phone with her shoulder, she reaches down the side of Mercy’s bed and pulls up a looped leather strap.

Emma does likewise on the other side and before Mercy has time to react they pass the loops over her feet and ankles, along her smooth slim calves as far as her knees.

Emma presses another button and the straps begin to retract, hoisting up Mercy’s bent knees and drawing her thighs wide apart, leaving her feet dangling helplessly. She screams into her gag and frantically kicks her feet up and down, tugging hysterically at her wrist restraints.

“Ah! Hello Rory”, says the Sister speaking into the phone, this is Sister Rosemary Gently-Browning from Execution Ward Two … I’m very well thank you. I’d like to report a crime … Well … there appears to be a traitor in our midst … Indeed. A capital offense. Giving aid and comfort to the enemy … It seems that someone has given water to one of our condemned ladies … Yes … to Mercy Skreemings … ”

She glances up at the lightbulb above Mercy’s bed.

“Camera Four … I assume you and the boys are watching it, even as we speak ... “ She chuckles and smiles. “Just as I thought … Getting a great view of Mercy Skreemings’s tits are we? … They certainly are … Stupendous. And we’re just about to expose the little slut’s cunt.” She laughs. “I know you too well, Rory … Well, I’d like you to check Camera Four for the last four hours. In fact, I think you should check all the cameras … For any suspicious behavior on the part of hospital staff. And most particularly, for evidence of anyone giving a drink to Mercy Skreemings ... Excellent. And when you’ve identified the perpetrator, will you be calling the MEGA-Squad? … Good. That’s very sensible … Yes, it would save time. Our traitor could be processed on-site under the emergency powers and sent out for summary crucifixion - assuming, of course, that our traitor is a woman … and I have a strong suspicion that she is - and a very pretty one at that.” She gives Cassandra an icy smile. “Good. Speak to you soon, Rory, my love … Goodbye.”

As the Sister puts the phone down, Cassandra gets up from her stool, mumbles an excuse, and starts walking briskly towards the door.

The Sister calls after her: “Leaving us already Cassandra? But you haven’t made your report to the Doctor about Miss Skreemings. By the way, if you’re thinking of going out, I’m afraid the hospital exits are being sealed until our traitor is caught …”

“Oh, erm, … I just thought I’d best go and … look for the Doctor. The … fact that Mercy, I mean Miss Skreemings, has been vomiting could have ramifications for … her, erm, … serum electrolyte balance, and her sodium, not to mention her mental health, and, that could have a detrimental effect on the erm - you know - flavor of her meat, when they roast her ...We don’t want the Prime Minister to be served with tough or bitter girlmeat ...”

“Absolutely not,” says the Sister emphatically. “Good thinking, Cassandra. You’re ahead of the curve, as usual. You’d best go and look for Dr. Painjoy. I’m beginning to wonder where he is. He should be here doing his round by now.”

At Cassandra’s mention of roasting her meat, Mercy lashes out at the Sister with the only parts of her body still free to move. Kicking out frantically with her lower legs, her big toe only narrowly misses the Sister’s chin.

The Sister backs away and sighs melodramatically. “Oh dear, Miss Skreemings. I suppose we'll have to secure those feet as well.”

Emma reaches into her pocket and pulls out a roll of adhesive tape and a pair of scissors. The Sister bends Mercy’s knees, forcing her calves hard against the backs of her thighs, while Emma secures them with the tape.

“Excellent work, Emma. Just one last little detail, and we’re all set. My oh my, just look at the little trollope’s gusset. Those knickers are literally soaked in your vaginal juices, Miss Skreemings. I’m beginning to suspect that all that whining and complaining about us has been nothing but a sham. I think you’ve been rather enjoying your time with us. What do you think, Staff Nurse?”

Emma shrieks with laughter. “If us girls are having this effect on her, you can bet that she’ll squirt when my boyfriend gets to work.”

“Absolutely. You’ll find that Emma’s fiancé, Spike, is very good looking and very well-hung, Miss Skreemings, as, indeed, are the other two nailers. They’ll be along any minute with Dr. Painjoy, and they’ll get to rape you first. I’ve no doubt you’ll enjoy the experience.”

The two women giggle gleefully. And Emma looks far more relaxed than she did a few minutes ago, after her intemperate outburst with the Sister.

Reassured at being back in the Sister’s good books, the beautiful African-Caribbean nurse now grins at Mercy, showing her immaculate white teeth. Mercy tenses as Emma holds up the shiny surgical scissors. With a flourish she takes some theatrical snips at the air, and then bends down and slips the cold instrument under the skimpiest part of Mercy’s lavender-colored silk panties. With one snip they are rendered useless.

Then with thumb and finger Emma gives them a sharp pluck, and Mercy squeals into her gag, feeling an intense sting of sexual pleasure as the warm wet silk passes roughly over her labia, biting into her cleft and snagging on her engorged clit.

“There, all done,” says Emma, tossing the soaking panties into the bin,

Thighs splayed, her pouting pussy lips wet and glistening, this is by far the most humiliating situation that Mercy has ever found herself in.

“That’s a lovely compact little vulva” says the Sister, running two fingers gently up and down the length of Mercy’s slick sex, “and such plump juicy labia.” She sucks at the tips of her fingers. “Mmm … Scrumptious! The Prime Minister will be very pleased. I have it on good authority that cunt steak is his favorite.”

Mercy weeps silently. Huge salty tears run down her cheeks, and a rivulet of drool finds its way past the ball gag and moves down her chin, dripping slowly onto her breast.

Sophie returns carrying a large black case. She places it on the bed a few inches from Mercy’s bottom, and opens it. Mercy can see that it contains a number of implements. Sophie carefully lifts out a long black object, the size and shape of a very large phallus.

“I thought this size would be best”, she says. “Nine inches?”

“Excellent choice,” says the Sister.

“Sensational choice!” says a voice from the doorway.

The nurses turn their heads and see a tall, dapper man - dark haired and graying at the temples - dressed in a dark suit, walking briskly towards them with a slightly mincing gait.

Cassandra emerges following closely behind.
Glad to see you return to this story! ❤️
 
Cassandra surely knows by now she is going to end up crucified alongside Mercy. Still she is following her role, maintaining her poise and returning with the doctor, just waiting to be exposed. Wonderfull. I love her character!
Probably what you will do. Isn’t it CruxGirl?
 
Bravo. Tank you!!! CruxGirl
Thank you carloscruz, your loyalty is commendable!
Over the top, silly, and amazing for it. Great writing. :biggrin: :azote:
Over the top and silly, indeed. I can't believe I'm writing this stuff, especially in light of the turgid, virtue-signalling, hyper-woke prose I tend to churn out in my day job. An exercise in reverse sublimation, perhaps?
 
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