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Kristin's Crucifixion: Beginnings

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Jollyrei

Angelus Mortis
Staff member
Sorry folks. At the moment my life is

{work, sleep} repeat n times

where n is an integer >> 0.

Seems even undistinguished maths professors have a role to play in this pandemic.

I have a (very minor) role in a global collaboration to analyse and model the spread of COVID-19.

So stay safe and see you later.
Quite understand. There are a number of us in this situation. I have worked on nothing but COVID-19 since the beginning of February, and have lately worked 20 days without a day off. Do what you can and what you have to do to stay sane and healthy. :headbang::beer::goodjob:
 
In case you don’t know a spit roast is one penis in the mouth and one penis up the back. Arse or pussy, I like both. Feeling one hard cock inside me is ecstasy. Two is heaven. Maybe three is even better but I’ve never got the topology right.

Both Dieter and Heinrich are fine physical specimens. Both are lean and wiry the way I like men.

Dieter is lying on his back on the double bed in my apartment, knees bent. I notice he is wearing a crucifix like mine. So is Heinrich.

I kneel down on the bed, grab his balls and give a gentle squeeze. He moans. I stick my right middle finger up his arse and wiggle it. I find these little foreplays drive men crazy.

Then I go down with my arse in the air and sniff. He smells good. I lick the tip of his cock with my tongue. His cum tastes grade A.

I take his cock into my mouth. I feel Heinrich entering my pussy from the back. And then we all go crazy.

Two hours later and we’re exhausted. It’s sex the way I like it. Rough. No holds barred. Everybody fucks everybody. Nobody asks permission. Nothing tentative. Just do it. Especially just do it to me. I am the ultimate bottom, the ultimate submissive. You want me to rim your arse. It’s my pleasure. Literally.

So we’re lying on my bed sweating. My room is full of the aroma of sex. My boobs are sore. One of them, I think it was Dieter, decided to knock me about a bit. Nothing radical. Just a few slaps and punches. I’m a pain slut. For me a bit of pain is, well it’s delicious.

Dieter starts fingering my crucifix. “Your last name is ‘Hardy’”, he says.

“Yes,” I say.

Both men fall silent. After about a minute Heinrich says, ‘Did you know a Martha Hardy?”

I am stunned. I cannot speak. My breath is taken away. Both men are looking at me intently.

“My, my, my mother’s name was Martha Hardy”, I stutter.

“You’re waiting for your messenger?” Heinrich says in a quiet voice.

“Yes,” I say.

“I hope your messenger comes soon,” Heinrich says.

“Did you see my mother’s crucifixion?” I say. I can hardly believe this.

But they say no more.
 
This is the story I tell Persephone. I am sitting in her living room along with Rosamund, a big beautiful woman. Rosamund is just short of six feet, athletic, beautiful black hair and brown eyes. She is my cross sister. We are to be crucified together.

“So when you said you knew what I was you meant that you knew I was your messenger?” Persephone says.

“Yes,” I say. “And I knew my night with you was a test.”

“I hurt you a lot,” Persephone says.

“Yes.”

“And yet you still came back.”

“Yes.”

“You understand what I did to you that night was only a small foretaste of what you will suffer when you are nailed to your cross.”

When I am nailed to my cross. The words make my pussy wet.

“Yes,” I say.

“Do you have your nails with you,” Persephone says.

I hand over the silver box with the nails my mother gave me all those years ago.

“Are you frightened?” Rosamund says.

“I am terrified,” I say.

“So am I,” Rosamund says.

“You can both still walk away,” Persephone says.

“I can’t,” I say.

“Why not?” says Rosamund.

“For the same reason you can’t,” I say.

Rosamund smiles a sad sort of smile. She knows. I know. Persephone knows. This is our destiny. We are drawn to our crosses as if by a magnetic force. The closer we get the stronger the force. It is sad, It is tragic. And it is joyous.

Or so we both believe. As my mother told me all those years ago, you don’t know for sure until the first nail is hammered into your wrist.

“I thought once we handed over our nails we had committed ourselves,” Rosamund says.

“In theory yes. In practice we give you a 24 hour cooling off period,” Persephone says. “If you still feel the pull of the cross tomorrow morning at 9 am you will both be hanged.”

I look at Rosamund. She looks at me. She comes across and hugs me.

“I want to hang with you,” she says.

We kiss. I suck in the taste of her. The smell of her. I want to hang with her. In my mind’s eye I see us hanging on our crosses. The thought of it drives me mad with anticipation. Rosamund is my cross-sister. We shall hang together.
 
I spend the night with my cross sister. The sex is gentle for our last night on Earth. I shall hang, I shall die with the taste of her on my tongue, the smell of her in my nostrils and the feel of her body against mine.

At six sharp we get up and shower together.

“Kristin,” she says, “will you allow me the honour of nailing you to your cross before they hang me?”

I feel as if an electric shock has passed through my body. The thought of my cross sister nailing me thrills me like nothing I have ever felt before.

“Oh yes,” I shout. “Yes, yes, yes.”
 

carloscruz

Governor
I spend the night with my cross sister. The sex is gentle for our last night on Earth. I shall hang, I shall die with the taste of her on my tongue, the smell of her in my nostrils and the feel of her body against mine.

At six sharp we get up and shower together.

“Kristin,” she says, “will you allow me the honour of nailing you to your cross before they hang me?”

I feel as if an electric shock has passed through my body. The thought of my cross sister nailing me thrills me like nothing I have ever felt before.

“Oh yes,” I shout. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Thank you very much Kristin!!!
Now everything is connected!
Incredibly exciting and well writen.
I am REALLY looking forward to the rest of the story.
Please!
 
It is 9 am sharp we are in the basement of Persephone’s house. My cross sister, my wonderful, lovely, adorable cross sister and I are naked except for our identical crucifixes.

Two sturdy looking crosses made of rough wood are lying side by side. At the foot of each is a deep hole with a small rectangular cross-section. These are the slots into which our crosses will be dropped.

There is a mirror on the wall opposite the crosses. My cross sister and I will see ourselves and each other hanging on our crosses.

Persephone walks in accompanied by Andy and two other man. Dieter and Heinrich! I look at them. They look at me. We hug.

“After you’ve been nailed to your cross Andy, Dieter and Heinrich will lift it,” Persphone explains.

“Kristin wants me to nail her,” my cross sister says.

Persephone puts barbed wire on my head. It represents the crown of thorns. She uses duct tape to keep it in place until I am vertical. The barbs penetrate the skin of my skull and I feel a bit of blood running my face.

I lie down on my cross. I feel the rough wood of my cross against my back. How can I describe the feeling, the beauty and the terror of the moment.

“Stretch out your left arm Kristin darling,” my cross sister says. She is standing over me with a ten pound hammer in her right hand and a nail in her left.

I stretch out me arm. I have been positioned so that when I am nailed my right arm will be almost at right angles to my body. Then, as Andy, Dieter and Heinrich raise me cross gravity will pull me down so that my stretched arms will be at about thirty degrees to the horizontal.

Andy holds my arm in place. I feel my cross sister place the tip of the nail on me just just above the point where the radius meets the ulna. She must hammer the nail through the gap into the wood without breaking any bones. I must hang just as my beloved Jesus hanged.

“Are you ready my darling?” says my cross sister.

“Yes.”

I feel the nail penetrate my wrist. I feel the agony. It is unbelievable. I am in a panic. It was all a mistake, A fantasy. This is not for me. I do not belong on this cross. What was I thinking? I want to scream, “STOP, STOP, LET ME GO. PLEASE LET ME GO! PLEEAAAASSSEEEE. I BEG YOU. PLEASE!
 
And then something weird happens. Something numinous. Something wonderful in its terror and its horror.

Everything changes.

It is not the agony AND the ecstasy. The agony IS the ecstasy. This is it. This is my destiny. I belong on this cross. I MUST hang on this cross. I must experience this cross. I must experience my sweet Jesus on our cross. On OUR cross.

YES, YES, YES. I must have this. It is dreadful. It is terrible. It is horrible.

It is my destiny.

My cross sister brings down the hammer again. My left wrist is nailed firmly to the cross.

I stretch out my right arm. Again my cross sister nails it firmly in place. Oh dear sweet Jesus, at last, at last I am with you. At last I experience you in the only way possible for me. On your cross. On my cross. On OUR cross.

Oh thank you for this pain. This wonderful pain. This terrible pain. This pain that makes me one with you.

Now it is time to nail my feet. Dieter places my left foot flat against the wood. My cross sister hammers the through the second inter-metatarsal space. No bones are broken but the plantar nerve is damaged sending unbelievable spasms of agony up my legs. Jesus, dear Jesus, thank you. Thank you for allowing me to experience you in this way.

Then my left foot is placed over my right foot and my cross sister delivers another blow with the hammer

My two feet are now nailed together with a single nail passing through both of them.

Andy places the heels of my feet against the wood. My feet are at an angle of 45 degrees to the wood. My cross sister delivers two more firm blows. My feet are now nailed to my cross but they are not flat against the wood. Instead they are at an angle of 45 degrees with my heels hard on the wood.

Andy, Dieter and Heinrich lift my cross to an angle of about 30 degrees from the horizontal. My cross sister removes the duct tape holding my crown of thorns in place.

Then they raise the cross and drop it into the slot in the floor. It goes in with a thunk. I am hanging on my cross. At last, at long last I am one with Jesus.
 

carloscruz

Governor
And then something weird happens. Something numinous. Something wonderful in its terror and its horror.

Everything changes.

It is not the agony AND the ecstasy. The agony IS the ecstasy. This is it. This is my destiny. I belong on this cross. I MUST hang on this cross. I must experience this cross. I must experience my sweet Jesus on our cross. On OUR cross.

YES, YES, YES. I must have this. It is dreadful. It is terrible. It is horrible.

It is my destiny.

My cross sister brings down the hammer again. My left wrist is nailed firmly to the cross.

I stretch out my right arm. Again my cross sister nails it firmly in place. Oh dear sweet Jesus, at last, at last I am with you. At last I experience you in the only way possible for me. On your cross. On my cross. On OUR cross.

Oh thank you for this pain. This wonderful pain. This terrible pain. This pain that makes me one with you.

Now it is time to nail my feet. Dieter places my left foot flat against the wood. My cross sister hammers the through the second inter-metatarsal space. No bones are broken but the plantar nerve is damaged sending unbelievable spasms of agony up my legs. Jesus, dear Jesus, thank you. Thank you for allowing me to experience you in this way.

Then my left foot is placed over my right foot and my cross sister delivers another blow with the hammer

My two feet are now nailed together with a single nail passing through both of them.

Andy places the heels of my feet against the wood. My feet are at an angle of 45 degrees to the wood. My cross sister delivers two more firm blows. My feet are now nailed to my cross but they are not flat against the wood. Instead they are at an angle of 45 degrees with my heels hard on the wood.

Andy, Dieter and Heinrich lift my cross to an angle of about 30 degrees from the horizontal. My cross sister removes the duct tape holding my crown of thorns in place.

Then they raise the cross and drop it into the slot in the floor. It goes in with a thunk. I am hanging on my cross. At last, at long last I am one with Jesus.
Congratulations Kristin!
Both for the story and your crucifixion.
 
I look in the mirror. I see myself hanging on my cross. I feel the hideous pleasure of the pain. The pain of the nails. The pain from the damaged nerves where the nails have passed between bones. The pain that courses through my body. The pain the purifies me. The pain that makes me one with Jesus.

My cross sister looks up at me. She smiles. She approaches me. My pussy is at the height of her mouth. I feel her tongue enter me. And she brings me to the last orgasm I shall ever experience. The last and the greatest.

And then she steps back.
 
Now it is my cross-sister’s turn to be hanged on her cross. She undergoes the same process I did. She never flinches. The look on her face is one of utter peace.

And now we are hanging side by side facing the mirror. We see other other and ourselves. I smile at her and close my eyes. There is no more to be said. We shall both dance our way to death.
 
I am immersed in pain. I am baptised by pain. It is an experience I cannot describe. On one level I am suffering more than I imagined it was possible to suffer. I am suffering more than it is possible to imagine.

On another level I experience an ecstasy beyond description. I am enveloped by Jesus. At some point I lose sphincter control. Then bowel control. But that is OK. The main thing is I am suffering, suffering, suffering.

At some point Persephone enters the room and gives us some water. “I don’t want you to die too soon,” she says. “You must feel yourself die.”

And I do. I feel myself dying. I am ready to embrace my death. This is what was meant to be. This is how I was meant to die.
 

piraland

Tribune
I am immersed in pain. I am baptised by pain. It is an experience I cannot describe. On one level I am suffering more than I imagined it was possible to suffer. I am suffering more than it is possible to imagine.

On another level I experience an ecstasy beyond description. I am enveloped by Jesus. At some point I lose sphincter control. Then bowel control. But that is OK. The main thing is I am suffering, suffering, suffering.

At some point Persephone enters the room and gives us some water. “I don’t want you to die too soon,” she says. “You must feel yourself die.”

And I do. I feel myself dying. I am ready to embrace my death. This is what was meant to be. This is how I was meant to die.
I hope it will take you a very long time to die so that we can enjoy your writings for a long time and continue to enjoy your story.
I sincerely would have liked to be present at your crucifixion and even to accompany you on a cross, to suffer and to die with you.
 
And then Persephone, Dieter and Heinrich enter the room and take me down!

This is not supposed to happen. They remover my nails, keep my barbed wire crown of thorns in place with duct tape and place my writhing body on a stretcher.

Now that I am no longer hanging there is no more ecstasy, only an unbearable agony. And then I lose consciousness.
 
I am my mother. And I am not my mother.

My mother is hanging on her cross. This is her fourth crucifixion. She thinks it is her last. This time she is going to die.

Unlike my crucifixion she has a sedile. She has been hanging a long time. She does not know how long. There is nothing to indicate the passing of time. She knows she has been given water a number of times. The aim, as ever, is to prolong her suffering as much as possible.

I experience everything she experiences as if it was happening to me. Her agony, her ecstasy.

And yet I am not her. I am me. This is the most intimate bond anyone can imagine.

As she dies she is thinking of me. She hopes I will experience the same ecstasy, the same joy that she feels on this, her final crucifixion.
 
It is three weeks later. Thanks to expert medical attention mine and my cross-sister’s bodies are almost healed. The first week after being taken down was one of unremitting pain. The one thing that was not provided was any form of pain relief. We had to experience the full effect of the aftermath of crucifixion. The pure, piercing, shattering pain. And all the time with strange helmets on our heads.

And now we are once again in Persephone’s living room. She has explained all. The barbed wire is, in fact, a carefully constructed piece of electronic equipment that records our brain activity in granular detail. So are the helmets we wore during recovery.

Our experiences can be played back to anyone who wants to experience our crucifixions.

“So after I was taken down from my cross I experienced my mother’s crucifixion?” I say.

“Yes, it was the last hour of your mother’s fourth and final time on the cross.”

“So my mother was crucified four times,” I say.

“Yes,” says Persephone.

“Is that the norm?” I say.

“There is no norm.”

“What happens now?” my cross sister says.

“You are free to go. When your bodies have recovered sufficiently we shall invite you back to be crucified again. You may accept or decline. You may be left to die on your cross or taken down. You will not know which it will be.”

“Can I experience my mother’s other crucifixions?” I say.

“You may experience any crucifixion you like for free. The usual price is $20,000 per hour or part thereof.”

“How long did it take my mother to die?” I say.

“Your mother lasted a little over two days. For her age that is a record that still stands.”

“And she was alone all that time?”

“Yes.”

“Will Kristin and I always be crucified together?” says my cross-sister.

“If you want,” says Persephone.

“And will we die together?”

“If that is what you both want.”

I look at my cross sister. She looks at me.

“Yes,” we say in unison.

THE END

 

piraland

Tribune
Do you intend to allow us later to follow the 2nd, 3rd and 4th crucifixions of these two stars of the cross!
I hope so because I would really like to follow them until they die!
It would even be an inhuman pleasure to be able to join her!
 

cire

Magistrate
In case you don’t know a spit roast is one penis in the mouth and one penis up the back. Arse or pussy, I like both. Feeling one hard cock inside me is ecstasy. Two is heaven. Maybe three is even better but I’ve never got the topology right.

Both Dieter and Heinrich are fine physical specimens. Both are lean and wiry the way I like men.

Dieter is lying on his back on the double bed in my apartment, knees bent. I notice he is wearing a crucifix like mine. So is Heinrich.

I kneel down on the bed, grab his balls and give a gentle squeeze. He moans. I stick my right middle finger up his arse and wiggle it. I find these little foreplays drive men crazy.

Then I go down with my arse in the air and sniff. He smells good. I lick the tip of his cock with my tongue. His cum tastes grade A.

I take his cock into my mouth. I feel Heinrich entering my pussy from the back. And then we all go crazy.

Two hours later and we’re exhausted. It’s sex the way I like it. Rough. No holds barred. Everybody fucks everybody. Nobody asks permission. Nothing tentative. Just do it. Especially just do it to me. I am the ultimate bottom, the ultimate submissive. You want me to rim your arse. It’s my pleasure. Literally.

So we’re lying on my bed sweating. My room is full of the aroma of sex. My boobs are sore. One of them, I think it was Dieter, decided to knock me about a bit. Nothing radical. Just a few slaps and punches. I’m a pain slut. For me a bit of pain is, well it’s delicious.

Dieter starts fingering my crucifix. “Your last name is ‘Hardy’”, he says.

“Yes,” I say.

Both men fall silent. After about a minute Heinrich says, ‘Did you know a Martha Hardy?”

I am stunned. I cannot speak. My breath is taken away. Both men are looking at me intently.

“My, my, my mother’s name was Martha Hardy”, I stutter.

“You’re waiting for your messenger?” Heinrich says in a quiet voice.

“Yes,” I say.

“I hope your messenger comes soon,” Heinrich says.

“Did you see my mother’s crucifixion?” I say. I can hardly believe this.

But they say no more.
Great writing, serious stuff Kristin. Sounds like Rock'n Roll to me. You got another fan......:devil:
 
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