The Island of Mr and Mrs. Jones.

[tygavin]

My life changed in an instant. Or should I say my life came to an end in an instant. It happened with a phone call. I sat at my desk in the successful gymnasium I had built, while my lovely wife worked outside my office as my secretary. I should have known by her shaky voice who she suspected the caller to be. If nothing else her face should have told me.

My wife, Chloe, has very open features. She is always smiling but if she is nervous, or afraid it is easy to see. That openness was highlighted by her natural beauty. She had long dark wavy hair and dark smoky eye lashes that surrounded her slightly large, blue eyes. Her body was my idea of perfect femineity. She was five foot nine, weighed between 126 and 130 throughout the year and had perfect, soft, C cup breasts. Her skin was smooth, not an ounce of extra weight that wasn’t needed. When I met her our sophomore year in college she had reminded me so much of a famous actress in Italy during the seventies I had admired since I saw her in a freshman film class on Giallo films, Edwige Fenech. The similarities were striking.

Instead of noticing her tells, I was focused on a report in front of me and told her to forward the call to my desk.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Jason. This is Mr. Jones.”

I paused for a moment, wondering if this was real. My subconscious mind knew it was while my conscious mind told me it wasn’t. My subconscious won in seconds.

“Mr. Jones. I wasn’t expecting to speak to you until we arrived on the island in two weeks. I suppose since you are calling, that means you will need both of us sooner?” I asked, proud that I was keeping my voice calm and steady, even though my heart was racing, and I was beginning to sweat.

“Yes, that is correct. My wife and I are in town. We will be at your house this evening at seven to go over details. I assume this won’t be a problem. You do remember your oath, of course?”

I took a quiet breath and steadied myself. Both Chloe and I knew this day could come, even if we didn’t really think it ever would.

“You will have no problems from us, Mr. Jones. We shall see you and Mrs. Jones at seven. I look forward to it.”

He ended the call without a goodbye. He knew my lie. Who could be ready for it? Who could be ready to die? Chloe and I were thirty-two, had a saucerful business and were in our sexual prime.

That was the thrill of being a part of the community though. Twice a year, you knew there was a chance you and your wife could be selected to die for the enjoyment of others.

I said my life ended with a phone call, but the call was simply the culmination of a path laid before us after college, one we readily took.

MY wife and I met our sophomore year and immediately hit it off. It was as if we were fated. We complimented each other. She was a woman who needed to be owned completely and I was the type of guy that needed to own someone completely.

This was not to say we were into a BDSM scene. I didn’t collar her, or spank her, we didn’t call each other master and slave. We hardly ever used toys. I did control her life and she allowed it. I decided what clothes she would wear for the day, what friends she would be around, who she was allowed to talk to. It didn’t start off at once but over our college years it grew. Her friends hated the way I ran her life, but they didn’t understand us. I could understand them and how our relationship might seem like abuse but for us, it was what we both wanted. I respected her. I didn’t fuck around, I didn’t get drunk, I never laid a hand in anger on her and I treated her like my queen. And she understood she was mine. She didn’t leave the house without me. She dressed as I wanted her to dress. If I wanted her proper, she dressed properly. If I wanted her a bit slutty when we went out on the town, she dressed a bit slutty.

We married right after college. Working out had always been a passion of mine along with business, so I opened a small gym. That led to another and another until I had several in the city. I allowed Chloe to work as my secretary and we had a good life.

Though we had in depth discussions about our wants and needs before marriage, it was on our honeymoon that I realized there we had another shared interest. We were drinking wine in our villa, watching a low budget horror movie without subtitles so we had no idea what was going on. As we made fun of the cheesy props and the cringe worthy background music, a woman was stabbed in the belly, over and over again.

Chloe, her inhibitions completely down, moaned and told me how hot it was. When I asked her what she meant, she took off her panties and sat on my hardening cock. It was then she told me she had a death fetish. She had imagined herself killed in a multitude of ways since she had understood what her sexual triggers were.

After a night of intense sex, the next morning she was reluctant to talk about it, even apologizing and believing it made me uncomfortable. It was then I let out my secret. I also had a fetish, though mine was not centered around being a victim, erotic death had always fascinated me as well.

After that, our imaginations took flight, and our sex was even hotter. We watched, simulated snuff videos and found while the movies were cheaply made and had poor acting and cheap props and special effects, the stories and situations were none the less, intriguing. We rad stories together about erotic executions, murders, hanging, electricity, firing squads, beheadings and every other manner of erotic death.

Eventually we sought out more creative ways to explore our passions. We naturally thought of BDSM. Much of the entertainment we read and watched had bondage themes. However, the BDSM lifestyle wasn’t for us. Our tastes ran different, darker. I was fascinated by the culture but we didn’t fit.

A marriage between a submissive wife with a death fetish and a controlling husband who loved to see women killed in erotic fashions could not have gone well. However, ours did. As I said, my wife was perfect and no matter my desire, I would never harm her.

To this day I have no idea how we were found by Mr. and Mrs. Jones. They introduced themselves to us at our gym five years ago. They were in their thirties, good looking. She was a beautiful blonde with kind eyes and an amazing, fit body, dressed in spandex shorts and sports bra that hid little of her form, even highlighting it. He matched my height and build, six foot two, one hundred and eighty pounds and looked to be in tip top shape. We both had dark hair and while mine was a bit more casual, his was more styled.

They introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Jones and asked if we could have lunch with them to talk about an opportunity they thought we might be interested in. All he would say, was it would be an opportunity we would not want to miss out on. Thinking they were attractive, and nice enough we met them at a bar that night.

To this day we do not know what their first names are, and I am sure Jones isn’t their last name.

What we heard that night was too good to be true. We didn’t believe it. They invited us to join them on their private island in one month.

We spent five days there in a large hotel next to his mansion and grounds on their private island with one hundred and fifty other couples. The couples belonged to what was called the Community. Twice a year five couples were chosen to be executed during the gathering. The types of executions would be chosen by the Jones. After five couples were dead, five new couples were inducted into the Community.

It was a hedonistic society and not at all brutal or violent. The victims were treated with honor if not given much in the way of dignity. They weren’t beaten, tortured or raped. They were taken as property of the Community and disposed of in erotic manners, the men and the women.

At the end of the weekend, after watching our fantasies play out in reality we underwent the ceremony, pledging ourselves to the secret society, vowing with blood to never give up the secret, to never speak of the island and most importantly, if called, be prepared to die for the enjoyment of others.

Five years, ten festivals and the thought of being selected had all but gone from our minds. We often thought about what it would be like to be a victim. I was intrigued but much more interested in watching them die. Chloe was insatiable during and after. It was only at these functions did we ever participate in sexual endeavors like exhibitionism, and groups sex. I would not allow Chloe to be used by another man but often the husband of a woman and I would sit and drink together while our wives fucked each other for our entertainment. Chloe and I had public sex during and after the executions. We observed the actions of those about to be dead. All the couples were young and in prime shape. It was if a modeling convention had broken out. The Community was everything we had wanted.

Now it wanted us.

I stepped outside and my look told Chloe she was right. I saw her breath hitch, a spark of fear on her face but also the quickening of breath like she did when about to orgasm.

“Was it him?”

I nodded. “Get you belongings. We are going home.”

At seven on the dot, our bell rang.

Chloe opened the door and let in Mr. and Mrs. Jones. They looked as stunning as ever. Despite my devotion to my wife, I was just a man and my cock stirred looking at Mrs. Jones in that short, tight red mini dress.

We offered them seats and drinks in the living room.

After some small talk where they complimented the house, Mr. Jones got down to business.

“You know why we are here.”

“I do. We have been chosen.”

“And you will fulfill your oath.” He said, not a question. The idea of running never crossed my mind. We had enjoyed other deaths and now they would enjoy ours.

“Tomorrow be at the airport at nine AM, gate one. You will need nothing but the clothes on your backs. Those will be relieved from you when you step on the jet, and you will never need clothes again. Your bodies belong to the Community now. Your deaths will make fine spectacle. This year will be very different. Never before have we executed victims in this manner. You will be crucified.”

Chloe gasped and squeezed my hand.

Mr. and Mrs. Jones found her reaction amusing. I kept a straight face, gave away nothing but they knew how I felt. How else would anyone feel finding this out? Hanging, beheading, even impalement would at least end quickly. This though?

“I understand. We will be at the gate at nine AM.”

To be continued

 

[Barbaria1]

This has a kind of Dolcettish quality to it …by that I mean the nonchalance about what will happen. Interesting beginning.

 

[Loinclothslave]

Intriguing start. I understand Chloe’s motivations for joining the community but he’s motivated by the other side of the coin. Was he hoping to perhaps one day becoming Mr Jones- in charge of the executions?

Good one, @tygavin , I watch with great interest

 

[tygavin]

Intriguing start. I understand Chloe’s motivations for joining the community but he’s motivated by the other side of the coin. Was he hoping to perhaps one day becoming Mr Jones- in charge of the executions?

Good one, @tygavin , I watch with great interest

That is the duality I see in myself. I can say if I were in his shoes, and I suppose in a way I am, the lure, the danger would be too much to pass up. For instance, my fasciation, my fetish is extreme. There is only one place I can see it happen for real. A group, secretive, I'm invited to be a part of their world. Twice a year me and my wife can spend a week on a private island with many other like minded individuals into the same kinks, all attractive couples in an anything goes hedonistic atmosphere. I can watch my erotic fantasies played out. The down side is I know out of all these people, there is a chance it could be me.

I would join. The draw would be too great. Now, I have been chosen. My wife is terrified but excited as well. Me? After five years I have come to pay more attention to the victims and not just the act. I am intrigued. What would those last hours, last minutes, last seconds fell like? What would it be like for someone like me, a man who loves control, to suddenly be backed in a corner with no way out and be forced to accept it? Should I fight, cry, or should I look at it as one more opportunity in life, the last one, to experience what it means to be the one controlled, the ones whose life is taken away, on display, for others.

So, in my mind, that is what his motivation was for joining. How could you now? Its impossible to be in that world and never curious about the other side could be. In may ways he may have a more complete obsession with death than she does as he sees and lvoes it from both sides, where she only sees it from one side.

 

[nicole]

brrrrrr, it gives chills, you may think you have a bad chance of being chosen, but when it happens, it's a mixture of fear and excitement.

 

[Zephirantes]

Excellent premises for a great story.

 

[tygavin]

After the nice married couple had officially informed us of our deaths, Chloe and I retired to the bedroom. We didn’t speak, simply undressed and limbed on the bed. I was numb to what had jut happened and focused on her instead. It was difficult, because of how physically hot she was. Her pussy was slick, her skin was so warm, and she orgasmed less than a minute after I entered her yet kept going, raising her body temperature. I knew she was hot because of our impending demise so I pretended she would be the one dying alone, and I would get the enjoyment of watching her suffer.

That could only work for so long as my mind kept flashing back to the image of myself hanging on the cross in humiliation. It did have the added benefit of keeping me hard for a long time, wearing her out and giving me quite a workout. We stopped at two AM, exhausted and dehydrated.

We were unable to sleep, her too excited and me too worried. We knew what needed to be done from past celebrations. The executed were always bare of hair below the neck. It was for simplicity. Mr. and Mrs. Jones liked hairless bodies. It made the signs of suffering so much easier to observe.

For instance, a woman on a scaffold could keep her legs together while waiting for her hanging. Pubic hair could hide her state of arousal, but a bare style left no secrets. They enjoyed seeing the details of cocks, the veins, the scrotum, tracing it, rubbing, caressing, and wanted no distractions.

When a woman was strapped to a bench with her neck locked into a guillotine and her knees on the ground, her breasts would be pressed against the wood she was bound to, but her knees would be shoved wide, and a bare pussy gave a very clear view to her arousal. Even for men, there was no hiding that erection and the tightening of balls that occurred in perilous situations.

The death of men had always intrigued me. It didn’t turn me on but neither did it turn me off. I found it interesting to study. I had come to know many men in the group, and a few were chosen to die. Despite not wanting to die, each had a sexual reaction to the preparation of being executed. Many had orgasms while being hanged, or even fucked while beheaded if they were on their backs. Each of them had an erection in preparing to die or during death, sometimes both.

I had read about crucifixion as part of my fantasies. It was a well-known kink and I imagined what Chloe would look like stretched out, in agony, her body writhing as she moaned. Crucifixion stories were some of the best I had ever read. The part that got me was the lead up to the nailing. The fear, the humiliation, the adrenalin and the total loss of power that came with being bound to wood. Most of all, I loved the idea of a woman lying submissive on her back against wood, her arms stretched, her ribs and hips prominent, her breathing on the verge of hyperventilating, as a long, sharp nail was pressed to her wrist.

She would be covered in sweat, hyperaware of everything, the grains of wood, the sand her feet were dug into, the cool breeze, tickling her enflamed pussy and hardening her nipples, wishing someone would pinch them and hoping no one would.

Then the first swing.

Now it would be my turn. My biggest fear was not the pain but humiliation and submission. I was not a submissive, but the cross did not care. I wasn’t required to be submissive. I was only required to do as told by the terms of an agreement I had signed fully understanding what could happen. The risk was worth it though.

I had seen beautiful women die in front of my eyes, watch them have the strongest orgasms in death throes, watched men and women chained to stakes all day, only for the bonfire to be lit that night. I had caressed dead women while their bodies were still warm. I had watched men and women cum just before their heads were cut off. I had seen bodies impaled from the pussy or ass right through the mouth.

Now I had to pay the bill.

I finished shaving Chloe and relaxed in the shower as she shaved me. We dressed casually and walked out of the house, not looking back. There was no need. Our fatal and painful destiny lay ahead, not behind.

We reached the airport too soon, an hour before boarding. Normally that would be a safe cushion but considering this was a private plane with no need for security all it did was allow us more time to sit and ponder our fate.

I knew many of the people over the years. The husbands and wives Chloe and I had gravitated towards, were now going to see me. They would examine me as I died. This wouldn’t be a quick execution. They could examine me multiple times at their own leisure over days. I wasn’t sure of what would be allowed to be done to us, but it was a party, and I was no longer part of the crowd. They would treat me as we had treated victims in the past, objects of fascination and desire.

Chloe would revel in the attention, the humiliation, being on display for all. I wouldn’t be as excited.

Would my body react like other men I had seen in the past? Did I want the possible pleasure as a distraction from the pain? Wouldn’t that be more of a humiliation? Or would it be better to close my eyes and focus on lifting myself up over and over to breathe util my muscles gave out and I hung, having difficulty breathing, suffocation taking my life.

I shook my head, realizing my questions were pointless. What I wanted no longer mattered. If I died with a limp cock or a raging hard on, if someone examined my body in detail or hundreds of someone did, what was going to happen, was going to happen.

I noticed other couples entering our seating area. It was easy to tell. We were an attractive lot. A mixture of apprehensive faces as well as those with lust in their eyes.

At nine AM sharp, the gate was opened, and we filed into the jet way in a line of pairs. When we reached the entrance, a stewardess held a large bag in her hands and told to undress and place our clothes in the bag.

I Unzipped the back of my wife’s black dress. She wore nothing underneath. She slipped out of the dress and sandals, placed them in the large bag and turned to me. I slipped my sandals off and she pulled my shirt over her head, then knelt in front of me, unbuckled my jeans and pulled them off.

I loved her so much. No matter the situation, she strived to serve me, even in undressing me.

Once bare, we were waved inside.

The jet was beautiful, larger than I expected a private jet to be. Rows of very comfortable seats lined the walls. Two chairs were facing two others pairing off couples. I held Chloe’s hand and pulled her to where another stewardess indicated we should go.

I let out a quick breath when my bare ass touched the leather seat. This was surreal. I had never been naked on a place, next to my equally naked wife. Surrounded by equally naked people. We had enjoyed having sex in group sex sessions while on the island, but we always had only sex with each other and those were in orgy settings. Being naked and doing mundane things was so strange.

It became even stranger when the couple assigned to the seats from us sat.

I introduced us. To my surprise and probably chauvinistic attitude, the woman introduced her and her husband. Her name was Keri. His didn’t matter apparently as she introduced hi as her husband, not bothering to give a name.

Keri was gorgeous. She had long, curly hair, beautiful hazel eyes and a smile that gave off a hunt of danger. Her body was cut, her muscles were wiry, and she was obviously strong for someone her size. She also had small round scars on her body as well as scars resembling slash marks.

“Let me guess…she is the one who fantasizes about being humiliated and killed. You joined to watch hot girls get off then get offed. It’s a shame we have never gotten to know each other in or visits before.”

“A true shame. So…which are you? I would assume since your husband won’t talk without your permission you are not a submissive looking to be snuffed. However, your scars are interesting.”

She winked at me. “Pay no mind to the scars. Part of the job. I’m an agent for the German Intelligence Directorate. A few bullet holes, a couple stab wounds, all part of the job.”

“You don’t sound German.” I pointed out.

“That’s because I am good at my job.”

That did make sense.

“So, you joined to see hot girls get off and then get offed?”

Keri nodded and motioned to her husband. “He’s a good husband, serves my needs and had a submissive streak I enjoy. When the Jones approached us he begged to join. I for one was interested to see other deaths. I had killed once myself, a beautiful young woman, a diplomat’s daughter who had been kidnapped for ransom, twenty-one and in the prime of her life.”

“You killed her?” I asked, not having trouble believing it. This woman was dangerous. The idea of her being crucified was driving me crazy.”

“I followed the money man back to their lair. Once inside I killed them all and found the girl tied to the bed nude.”

Keri smiled and shrugged. “How could I resist. I spoke to her for a while, made it last but also gave her pleasure. I reported that I had recovered the money, but she was dead when I arrived. Perhaps this is karma for me. I don’t regret it. I would do it again. Seeing the life leave her eyes from so close and knowing I was the cause…”

A psycho, I realized. A natural born killer who enjoyed erotic deaths.

Was I the same? I would like to say I only enjoyed watching young ladies die. However, given her situation I wasn’t sure I could say that.

“How did you kill her?” I asked.

“I strangled her with one of the kidnappers belt. I fingered her while she died. She came. Now…here I am. Here we are. Are you ready?”

I shook my head.

“Neither am I. We have four days to prepare. For now, we should relax. I can tell your wife wants to fuck you. Enjoy yourselves. I will enjoy watching you.”

Chole looed at me with hope in her eyes and grabbed my hard cock. I was so engrossed in Keri’s conversation I hadn’t realized I had an almost painful erection. I nodded to Chloe.

She took my cock inside her easily and began grinding into me. I simply gripped her hips and ass hard, letting her do the work. It was only after we had leveled out that I came with a roar. I was embarrassed when I realized what happened until I heard the sounds of sex all around me.

“Nothing left to lose, Jason. Fuck as much as you can.” Keri told me with a wink.

To be continued

 

[tygavin]

When we arrived on the Island, we walked out onto a red carpet, protecting our bare feet from the no doubt hot asphalt of the runway. The carpet led to a shaded area with grass and a dirt path, leading up to the mansion where Mr. and Mrs. Jones lived. Beside them were twelve individuals that were hard to miss. Six women were dressed in black leather pants that looked like a second skin. Their midriffs were bare showing off their six pack abs and the leather top fit them tightly, showing off a large amount of cleavage. The most disturbing issue with them were the black masks they wore, and the bullwhips curled and hanging from their waists.

The men next to each of them were similar pants, their tops were naked, showing off large muscles. I have worked out my entire life, I owned a gym, yet they made me feel small. They resembled the body builders who often came into my business. They too wore whips on their belt, only a cat o nines rather than a bull whip. They also wore a black mask. It irritated me that I felt small and weak compared to them. Here I was, naked, my wife who I was always possessive of in the past was naked and I was helpless. I was an object.

The black clad men and women were handed clear plastic box of metal collars and small locks from a butler who had arrived.

“Why collar us?” I whispered to Keri. “We came willingly, we had to undress for the ride, not one of us has resisted, yet now they collar us like dogs.”

“It is something we have used in the past imprisoning and interrogating enemy agents. It is meant to break a person down, no matter how strong willed. You take their clothes, make them understand they will never wear clothes again, then you collar them like a dog, making you the same status as a pet. It dehumanizes you and breaks your spirit.”

“Does it work?” I asked quietly as two approached me and Chloe.

“Extremely well.” She replied back.

I stood still while the man tilted my chin up and placed the well fit collar around my neck. He stood behind me closely, too close for comfort as I could feel his leather against my ass, not something I enjoyed and obviously done on purpose.

I heard a click and then a cool lock touching the bottom of my neck, just below my collar. My collar was only and inch high and not very thick, but it felt huge at that moment. I wondered when the chains would be brought, or the cuffs for our hands and feet but nothing else appeared and the butler seemed empty handed.

Mr. Jones stepped forward.

“Welcome to our island. You have all been well behaved. You showed up to the airport, gave no resistance or argument in giving up your clothes before boarding the plane and have stood at attention quietly while being collared like the less than human individuals you now are. You have lived up to the agreement you made when joining our esteemed and exclusive community.”

Yes we did. I did. I wasn’t sure if I could do it before we gave ourselves up but my instincts told me these were not people you ran from.

“As of an hour ago, the small charter plane you each boarded for your vacation has crashed. Each of you signed a power of attorney when joining giving us full rights to all your property including your businesses.” Mr. Jones continued. “You no longer have any possessions, including your spouses.”

That caught my attention immediately and Chloe gasped and moved back into me as I instinctively wrapped my arms around her.

“I can see you are all surprised. Our crucifixions this year will be different than other methods we have used in the past. While those methods were stretched out over a day, crucifixion is a more drawn-out process. It begins before the actual act takes place. It begins with humiliation.

“You will not be whipped unless you deserve it. We prefer the bodies to hang in pristine condition for examination. Humiliation and non-permanent injuries and torture may be a part of your stay. That is at our discretion. You know longer have control of your lives. You breathe for our entertainment.”

I felt chills all over my body and goosebumps on Chloe’s. Mine were from fear and hers were likely a combination of fear and sexual excitement.

“You will have five minutes to say goodbye to your spouse. You will not see them again until your cross is raised, and they are nailed across from you. I am not going to ask if you all understand. It doesn’t matter. Take the five minutes now.”

Chloe turned and looked up to me with those big, loving doe eyes of hers. Her pink nipples were hard, her breathing shallow and she straddled my leg with hers, rubbing her wet pussy against me.

This beautiful, dark haired, bombshell had given her life to me. She had served me in every way possible.

I knew this was her time now. This was her fantasy to be lived out. She deserved this as much as it killed me.

I leaned down and kissed her.

“I love you.” She told me.

I smiled and wiped a tear from her cheek. A tear of joy or sorrow I could not tell, and it was perhaps both.

“I love you. I am not sure what will happen to us, but know I will enjoy watching you pinned to the wood, no matter how much pain I am in. The next few days…”

I had to say it. It would happen regardless most likely, and I did not want her to feel guilt.

“I want you to enjoy yourself. If someone wants to fuck you, if you have no choice or simply desire it, treat them as you would treat me. Enjoy yourself. Give everything you have to pleasure before the pain. That is a command. That is my final command. Do you understand?”

Chloe smiled and nodded. “You do the same. For me.”

I kissed her, held her tightly, relished in her breasts, hot from her arousal and the Caribbean sun, enjoying her pussy humping my leg as my erection pressed into her.

Then we were broken apart by a masked woman. She was taken away from me.

The groups were split into six on one side and six on the others. Three of our group were women and three were men. Keri was one of the women.

The first group including Chloe was led away while we waited along with a masked woman and masked man, by their side.

Mr. and Mrs. Jones watched them go then indicated to the guards to take us.

We walked in pairs, Keri beside me.

“They separated the doms from the subs.” She whispered.

“Why?” I whispered back.

“Because they will be easy to break. We won’t be.”

I shivered at the thought. I already felt broken. I was naked, surrounded by women who could probably kick my ass and men who towered over me, both carrying whips. I was collared like an animal and I was freely walking to my death because I had been told to. How mush lower could I sink?

I could sink lower and that terrified me.

When we reached the mansion, instead of going inside or to the hotel behind it where the guests stayed, were taken into a basement like area that I had never been inside. The basement had a door on the end that led to a larger underground area with a hallway. On each side of the hallway were doors with barred windows. Cells.

Keri and I were taken to one. The door was opened, and our masked individuals motioned for us to enter.

I was surprised when I walked inside. It wasn’t a typical dungeon room one might expect from movies, history books and BDSM fantasy stories.

It has a concrete floor and concrete walls. There was a monitor in corner of one wall and a camera in the corner opposite of it above the door. I continued my brief exploration of the small room.

There was a small twin bed with only a small mattress, and a small room in back. Inside was a toilet and a shower head.

The lights were very dim. The monitor in the corner above the door turned on. There was no sound, but there was picture, video I wasn’t keen to see. The monitor showed a woman, hung on the cross in obvious pain. It then panned away from her, showing other men and women in the same situation.

“The camera belongs to Mr. and Mrs. Jones. They like to check in on the condemned. You may be recorded.” The large man began. “All you have to do, all you exist to do, is what we tell you. There is a surprise under the bed for you. You will be fed in the morning and at night. You will be too busy to eat during the day. The day before execution you will be washed inside and out and not given any food to avoid any unpleasantness while you slowly die.”

I shivered once again. Not a pleasant thought and something I thought I would never go through in my life.

“You will also be waxed the morning of the execution.” He continued, like a good travel guide and host.

“You will meet various VIPs. I hope you understand you are to be submissive. You.”

He was looking at me.

“Yes?”

“Have you ever sucked a cock?”

I shook my head quickly.

“I would suggest you take pointers from her.”

“What makes you think I suck dick?” Keri asked.

The acoustics of the room made it sound like a thunderclap. The masked woman slapped Keri’s cheek hard enough to turn her head but not knock her down.

Neither woman said anything. The masked woman didn’t need to, and Keri understood. Even the last bit of defiance would be met harshly.

The woman looked down at my crotch.

“It won’t be a problem. He appears to like the idea. Your cock can’t lie, pet.” The woman told me.

I looked down and saw I was indeed getting stiff.

Then I gasped when the large man grabbed by ball sack and moved his thumb up my cock.

“He isn’t excited about sucking dick. He is excited by fear and probably enjoyed seeing this fine woman slapped. Let’s leave these two alone. Relax and enjoy yourselves. We won’t need you until morning.”

He squeezed my ball sack, causing me to hiss and the two walked out.

“Are you okay?”

Keri nodded. “The humiliation has begun. I should have kept my mouth shut, ironically. You know they weren’t joking.”

I nodded.

“I’ll talk you threw it later. Let’s see our surprise.”

Keri walked towards the bed and watching her like this, made me hard again despite the humiliation I had just endured. She pulled out a box.

Inside the wooden box was a small bottle of whiskey and over thirty cigarettes that did not have tobaccos in them along with a lighter.

“They are likely laced with an aphrodisiac. I hope you don’t mind being on the bottom. I’m a top kind of girl.”

To be continued

 

[tygavin]

That first night was amazing. True to their words, they didn’t bother us the rest of the day or night.

We did not take their advice. Keri did not give me cock sucking advice. If they wanted me to suck dick they would have to deal with an amateur. Keri confided in me that she never sucked dick either. She was a top and it was her husband’s job to pleasure her. She told me she even withheld orgasms from him for days, often employing a chastity belt while she was away in extended missions so he could not masturbate. He had the key for instances of hygiene but put it on right away as soon as he was done.

“You trust him not to get off?”

“Yes. The belt is a reminder and to help prevent temptation. He does as he is told. Would you not trust your wife?”

Of course, I would. Chole did what I told her, no matter what.

We broke out the smokes and as we suspected they were not normal. They made us incredibly relaxed and also incredibly turned on. That may have had a lot to do with Keri. We fucked like animals. We fucked like two predators wanting to dominate the other.

While I had been an athlete and current gym addict and owner, Keri worked in the spy game. She had feint scars on her body, including a few knife wounds. Where my body was strong, hers was hard, wiry and her eyes had a fire mine didn’t have. I finally gave up the fight and lay back to enjoy myself while she moved on top of me, her thighs squeezing mine and her hips moving so fast you would have thought she was trying to break my cock off.

When she did need a break, she got on her hands and knees, and I fucked her from behind. The idea of a man being on top of her was most likely her worst nightmare.

We sat after a marathon round of sex, me on the bed with my back to the wall and her between my legs, leaning her head against my chest. We were both smoking again because at that point, why not? We had nothing to lose and didn’t have to worry about our health.

“How is your cock still hard?”

“Because you are pressed against it. My cock may be ready, but my body isn’t ready for another round with you. You hate being on bottom, don’t you?”

“You have no idea.” She told me. “During torture training I was raped multiple times. Most of the time I was on my hands and knees or ass in the air and face pressed into the mud. I could ignore those times. They were nothing. I didn’t see my attacker. I just pretended I wanted it and fucked him back.

“Other times they staked me to the ground, put some hard cushions under my ass to raise my pussy up and took turns. I had to look everyone of them in the eye. Since then, I don’t fuck on my back.”

I internally sighed, supposing that made sense. I would never be able to go through something like that. Though now that I thought about it, there was a strong chance I might have to. Luckily I was too high to ponder on that or feel fear that would usually accompany it. I was too wrapped up in the warm body pressed against me. One hand held my cigarette and the other snaked down between her leg, stroking the landing strip of pubic hair she had just above her pussy. I always enjoyed Chloe shaved but perhaps I should have let her try a few styles.

“What else was involved in this torture training?” I asked. Normally I wouldn’t but the drug left me with no filter apparently.

“Besides rape? Waterboarding, the rack, various whips, hard paddles, the wooden kind that was not kinky, only a blunt instrument of pain. The small round scars on my body are cigarette burns. I was strapped to a wire mattress and electrocuted. An electric wand spent a day on my nipples, pussy and asshole. I’m just glad they left my clit alone or I may have never orgasmed again. I was beaten by the trainers’ fists, kicked when I hit the ground.”

“Damn.” I whispered.

“I was also hung by the neck several times, cut down as soon as I lost consciousness. Even got fucked in the noose once.”

Thinking about what she went through should have generated pity in me. Instead, it hardened my cock even more.

“You wish it were you, don’t you? You torturing me?”

“Yes.” I admitted. When the end was near there was no reason to lie. “But despite that, you never broke.

“I thought I never would, but I was wrong. When Mr. and Mrs. Jones approached me and the husband in that restaurant, this was my ideal place. Yes, I knew I could be chosen but so what? I could see others die and what could they do to me? Kill me? The chances of retiring from my job weren’t good. What could they do that hadn’t already been done?

“So of course, they thought of the one thing that hadn’t been done to me. The most agonizing way to die, the one that breaks everyone, the one that opens me up to the examination of the world, which forces me to look at my killers, makes it impossible to fight back, they give to me. They knew from the beginning. They knew we needed to be broken and how. They picked us for crucifixion the moment they saw us.”

I sighed and lifted my hand, caressing her breast. Her breasts were not large, but they were a handful and fit perfectly into my hand. Her nipple cut a diamond right now.

“That feels nice. You are a good lover.” She told me.

“What do you think they are?” She knew who I was talking about. “They knew how to find us, knew our desires, knew we would never run, practically knew everything about us. They are both incredibly beautiful. I may not be attracted to men, but I can admit he is amazing. He is stunning and in the years we have been coming here they never age.”

“Does it matter? I don’t have to guess. They will tell us.”

I took a final drag and tossed the butt to the floor. She pulled away from me then turned to face me, sitting on my lap, her pussy rubbing against my cock and pulled me in for a searing kiss.

“You think so? Why would they?”

She kissed my neck softly, a few times while rubbing her pussy lips on my cock, just keeping me from entering her.

“They tempted us. They found us, appealed to our basest desires, knowing we would take the chance. They offered us a game to play, and we played it. For a few years now we have been swept up, waiting impatiently to come here twice a year. I bet they have one of these a month, different groups than ours, probably five more. They let us look at beautiful bodies in their death throes. We fuck in public, we talk to the condemned, savor their fear. They gave that to us.

“Now we belong to them. Of course, they are going to tell us. Every villain likes to tell the hero how they won before they kill the hero.”

“Heroes never die though.” I pointed out. “They turn the tables on the villains.”

Keri laughed. “We aren’t heroes, there is no table to turn, and we are certainly going to die. They will tell us.”

Keri slipped her pussy around my cock and began slowly fucking again. When we finished, she lay on her side, and I held from behind. We passed out, exhausted from the day and coming down off our high, leaving us drowsy.

I’m not sure what time we woke. There were no clocks, no sunlight, only the monitor on, showing videos of men and women hanging on crosses that we had ignored the night before. They were fascinating when we first arrived, but they quickly became boring. Perhaps a victim didn’t die from suffocation but from boredom. The first day you are a spectacle, but after that you are left on your own, no crowd jeering at you. You were just alone with perhaps a couple silent guards, doing nothing but dying slowly.

I doubted that would be the case this time. The party would go on around us all day, unlike these poor people on the television who appeared to be in some desolate area.

The guards woke us when they entered. We stood as instructed. Our hands were zip tied behind our backs and ball gags were stuffed in our mouths, I had never had this done. It was an interesting experience and my cocked twitched.

We were taken from the dungeon to a lovely room in the mansion, led by leashes of course. We were animals now after all.

I expected Mr. and Mrs. Jones to be waiting for us. Instead, we stood before a tall, beautiful woman in a tight red dress. She was possibly five foot eleven to six foot tall and exuded eroticism. She had long dirty blonde hair and large breasts and wore heels that out her easily over six foot, my height.

“Hello you two. I’m Mrs. Smith. You will eventually call me Dominus but that is much later. Jason, my husband is fucking your wife.”

“And fucking your husband, Keri.” She finished, looking straight at Keri. “They are both very enthusiastic. He likes natural submissives. I like breaking mine. I’ve had my eye on you two for quite some time.”

She squeezed my balls firmly, not painfully and rain a long, sharp fingernail gently up my now erect cock.

She then ran the nails of her hands all over Keri’s front while Keri closed her eyes and moaned. I understood. Mrs. Smith hands set my body on fire.

I wish I looked better. I was helpless, hands behind my back, leash attached to a collar and drool dripping down my chin from the damn ball gags.

“I wanted a closer look. I am happy. It is time to take my mark.”

I stiffened, wondering if she was going to brand us. Instead, she pressed her hand on the right pec and I felt a warmth. When she removed her hand, I looked at my chest and saw a black handprint on it. It no longer burned but it was not paint. It resembled a tattoo.

She knelt in front of Keri and placed her palm between her belly button and mound. She pressed again and Keri gasped. When she removed her hand, there was a similar handprint to mine.

“You both now belong to me. Let us begin your breaking. Guards.” She said to the leather-bound man and woman. “You know what to do. Take them to the toy room, and rape them both. Make sure you each get a piece of each of them. They should understand their desires mean nothing now.”

She walked behind us and patted both of us on our asses. “You both belong to me and only me now. Be grateful. It could be much, much worse.”

The guards jerked our chains and we followed, eyes wide in terror. What had we gotten ourselves into?

TO BE CONTINUED

 

[bispanker]

this is exciting they are now marked as property

 

[tygavin]

I would like to say there was some erotic feeling about the rest of the day. I would love to say I discovered things that I had never known about myself.

That would be a lie.

It was hell. Hell, as far as I knew so far. Seeing the black handprint on Keri’s belly and aware of the one on my chest, made it clear we were not dealing with a human in the way we understood the definition. Whatever Mrs. Smith was, she was evil, and she owned us. Not just our bodies. She owned our souls.

We were taken to her playroom. We were strapped down onto raised leather benches on our hands and knees, belly across the thin wouldn’t top, knees and hands raising ourselves up. Our arms were strapped, our legs were strapped, and our upper bodies were strapped. Our chins were placed on some contraption that kept us looking forward rather than down.

Keri and I were both totally exposed to our captors.

It hurt. I cried. So did Keri. We were totally helpless while both of them raped us. He and his cock and her and her strap on. The feeling was brutal. I couldn’t look towards Keri, but I heard her whimpering, begging it to stop. The female guard tried to stroke me; I suppose a reach around while I was being fucked. Nothing happened. I couldn’t get an erection. I couldn’t enjoy this in any manner.

I’m not sure how many minutes or hours they used us for. I know the male used us as collection jars for his seed, more than once. I knew it hurt to sit down when I was let go and allowed to exit the horrible bench and fall to the floor.

Keri later told me she had not been fucked in her pussy at all. They had fucked her ass exclusively as if knowing that was her one weak spot.

Afterward we were left in chains, hanging from the playroom walls, on out feet, our arms raised high above us in metal cuffs. Neither of us talked, likely too embarrassed by what had just happened. When Keri and I fucked, we were like animals fighting for dominance. In this case there was no fight. We were dominated and it took the wind out of each of us.

When they returned for us, my legs were cramping, and I had begun putting more weight on my captive arms. They released us, clipped chains on our collars and led us back to our cells.

That led me here, on my knees next to my cellmate watching the monitor that was in the corner wall. The one that had been playing videos of what fate awaited us, the agony that others before us had gone through.

Instead of videos of crucifixions, the screen now showed our spouses.

Chloe, my dark princess and slave was being massaged. She was then being fucked and moaning, orgasm after orgasm, taking a cock of a man in front of her while being fucked from behind.

Keri’s husband was sat on a chair while a woman in a black leather top fucked him slowly while he held onto her ass with a strong grip.

“They are in a state of constant bliss.” The male executioner told us. “They have not been beaten or raped. They are allowed to give into their natural submissive state. They look forward to the erotic death. They have not been shown videos you have seen of the agony of crucifixion.

“These are the last two days of their lives. If you wish them to remain in ignorant bliss, you will do as you are told. They have already been claimed by Mr. Smith. After you die on the cross, you will never see them again.”

Keri and I looked at each other defeated. One thing we had in common besides our need to be dominate was our loves for our spouses.

“What is it we must do?”

The male guard stepped in front of me, and I looked up and shivered. Despite his handsomeness, despite the female guards strange beauty, their eyes were now completely black.

“You are going to learn to suck cock. Both of you are horrible at it. While one of you is sucking cock, the other shall work on my friend’s cunt.”

I sighed, knowing I had no choice. I cast a glance at Keri who was pale and trembling. I had no doubt I was any different.

Once again, I lost track of time. I am not sure how long my mouth worked. I wasn’t sure how many times the woman came, sending burning hot juices onto my face. I wasn’t sure how long I had a cock in my mouth, listening to what must have been some demon servants give me directions on how to pleasure his cock with my tongue. I tasted his hot seed, felt it on my head, my eyelids, my cheeks, along with his fellow demon’s juices.

When we were done, we were tossed onto the floor, told to rest, to shower and to smoke. We had appointments that afternoon.

That comment made me realize we had been used all night and the morning.

Despite the time since our last meal, I was not hungry. I was sickened, humiliated, and violated. My ass felt on fire, and I could still taste both of them in my mouth.

Keri and I showered together but it was not a shower of intimacy. We washed each other’s backs but as far as touch, that was where it ended.

There was no need to tell us to smoke. All I wanted to do was get high.

The smoke did its job and soon to my surprise, Keri was using her newfound skills to suck my cock until I came.

“What are they?” she asked after she swallowed.

“Demons?” I guessed, though I didn’t know what demons were.

“These damn handprints. We belong to her. We will die and she will make us suffer for her amusement for eternity.” Keri told me.

I didn’t argue, there was no point. She was likely right. Of course, we were damned. How could there be a paradise after death for a woman who had killed a helpless young girl when she was meant to rescue her. How could there be forgiveness for a man who loved watching others die?

Chloe didn’t deserve this. She was innocent, her only desire to serve, to be dominated. Was this her reward? An eternity of being dominated. She had also enjoyed being fucked while watching others die and dreaming of being in their place.

Despite my ass being sore, when Keri lay against me in our position from before I caressed her breast and slipped my hand between her legs, rubbing her clit and sticking fingers inside her. She had came twice while I had regained an erection when our rapists returned.

“Up you two. You have people to greet. Actually, you must stay quiet, but you will be lovely decoration.” The man told us.

They walked inside and the female took hold of my hard cock and led me by it as I struggled to keep up. In the hallway were the others who had walked with us to this dungeon. Most cells were two males apiece and I was grateful I had been locked with a woman as beautiful as Keri. The males all sported impressive erections like I did, and I wondered if they had been tempted or despaired enough to offer each other pleasure. I was very thankful for Keri at that moment.

I also shivered when I noticed they all had handprints on their chests except the other female who had it where Keri’s was. They were all different colors; none were solid black like mine and Keri’s. How many demons were there?

Despite my erect cock I damn near pissed myself when we walked outside. We were led to the walkway we had entered just outside the mansion. Another two hundred feet and we would be on the steep walk down. I knew we would not get that far.

Instead, on either sides of the flat walkway, there were crosses on the ground.

Had so much time passed? It was the afternoon, and I knew the executions usually began in the morning and this was not the execution ground.

“Relax, dead boys and girls.” Our female executioner told our doomed group. “This is just a preview. Some very important friends, VIPs I suppose you could call them, are arriving early from different points on the island. You are the decoration. Lay down on your crosses and spread your arms along the patibulum. You know what to do.”

I shivered as I looked at the cross on the ground. This was the first look I had ever had of a real one. The stipes, the patibulum. A crude seat known as a sedicula, and a small footrest I knew as a suppedaneum from my research. This cross was not designed for a quick death at all.

I also saw ropes around the spot for my arms and where my feet would most likely lay against, trying not to slide down as my rough seat would not prevent me. Instead, it would only help thrust my pelvis out more.

I lay down as instructed, trying to be brave and failing. I felt such a coward. I had an idea we would not die yet, but we would hang. I stayed still except my trembling. I turned my head and saw Keri was close to hyperventilating, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. Despite my own fear I could not help but notice her beauty and because of the smokes we had, my cock was still hard. I suspected the fear would not let it soften anytime soon.

I am ashamed to say I whimpered when the ropes were quickly and professionally wrapped around my arms and feet. To no surprise the cross fit me perfectly.

This was the first taste. My first taste of being bound to my execution device and unable to move.

The foot of the cross had a hinge to it, and it must have been operated by some mechanical system because we were rose slowly. My body slid and as I suspected, the slanted seat, caused me to slide down, thrusting my abdomen and cock out.

I strained to breath! My weight was on my feet and my hands, secured by the ropes. I used the ropes to push up with my feet and it hurt. How much worse would I hurt when there were nails in my hands and feet.

When I reached the top and was able to take a breath, I looked towards Keri as she was looking at me. The tough, vicious spy had tears in her eyes.

She shook her head sadly and lowered herself once again.

“No worries. The seat won’t be there for the real deal.” My female owner told me. “We have something much better planned. You will be grateful we fucked your ass so hard today.” She told me.

I dropped my head, taking that in and realizing not just pain waited for me but humiliation instead.

A murmur of voices and I realized others were coming up the steep steps.

They would parade by us, stop to examine us. We weren’t very high. They would touch us. My female torturer was only head high to my cock.

I concentrated on my straining muscles and prepared for the public humiliation to come.

To be continued

 

[carloscruz]

Very good. please continue!

 

[bispanker]

I would like to say there was some erotic feeling about the rest of the day. I would love to say I discovered things that I had never known about myself.

That would be a lie.

It was hell. Hell, as far as I knew so far. Seeing the black handprint on Keri’s belly and aware of the one on my chest, made it clear we were not dealing with a human in the way we understood the definition. Whatever Mrs. Smith was, she was evil, and she owned us. Not just our bodies. She owned our souls.

We were taken to her playroom. We were strapped down onto raised leather benches on our hands and knees, belly across the thin wouldn’t top, knees and hands raising ourselves up. Our arms were strapped, our legs were strapped, and our upper bodies were strapped. Our chins were placed on some contraption that kept us looking forward rather than down.

Keri and I were both totally exposed to our captors.

It hurt. I cried. So did Keri. We were totally helpless while both of them raped us. He and his cock and her and her strap on. The feeling was brutal. I couldn’t look towards Keri, but I heard her whimpering, begging it to stop. The female guard tried to stroke me; I suppose a reach around while I was being fucked. Nothing happened. I couldn’t get an erection. I couldn’t enjoy this in any manner.

I’m not sure how many minutes or hours they used us for. I know the male used us as collection jars for his seed, more than once. I knew it hurt to sit down when I was let go and allowed to exit the horrible bench and fall to the floor.

Keri later told me she had not been fucked in her pussy at all. They had fucked her ass exclusively as if knowing that was her one weak spot.

Afterward we were left in chains, hanging from the playroom walls, on out feet, our arms raised high above us in metal cuffs. Neither of us talked, likely too embarrassed by what had just happened. When Keri and I fucked, we were like animals fighting for dominance. In this case there was no fight. We were dominated and it took the wind out of each of us.

When they returned for us, my legs were cramping, and I had begun putting more weight on my captive arms. They released us, clipped chains on our collars and led us back to our cells.

That led me here, on my knees next to my cellmate watching the monitor that was in the corner wall. The one that had been playing videos of what fate awaited us, the agony that others before us had gone through.

Instead of videos of crucifixions, the screen now showed our spouses.

Chloe, my dark princess and slave was being massaged. She was then being fucked and moaning, orgasm after orgasm, taking a cock of a man in front of her while being fucked from behind.

Keri’s husband was sat on a chair while a woman in a black leather top fucked him slowly while he held onto her ass with a strong grip.

“They are in a state of constant bliss.” The male executioner told us. “They have not been beaten or raped. They are allowed to give into their natural submissive state. They look forward to the erotic death. They have not been shown videos you have seen of the agony of crucifixion.

“These are the last two days of their lives. If you wish them to remain in ignorant bliss, you will do as you are told. They have already been claimed by Mr. Smith. After you die on the cross, you will never see them again.”

Keri and I looked at each other defeated. One thing we had in common besides our need to be dominate was our loves for our spouses.

“What is it we must do?”

The male guard stepped in front of me, and I looked up and shivered. Despite his handsomeness, despite the female guards strange beauty, their eyes were now completely black.

“You are going to learn to suck cock. Both of you are horrible at it. While one of you is sucking cock, the other shall work on my friend’s cunt.”

I sighed, knowing I had no choice. I cast a glance at Keri who was pale and trembling. I had no doubt I was any different.

Once again, I lost track of time. I am not sure how long my mouth worked. I wasn’t sure how many times the woman came, sending burning hot juices onto my face. I wasn’t sure how long I had a cock in my mouth, listening to what must have been some demon servants give me directions on how to pleasure his cock with my tongue. I tasted his hot seed, felt it on my head, my eyelids, my cheeks, along with his fellow demon’s juices.

When we were done, we were tossed onto the floor, told to rest, to shower and to smoke. We had appointments that afternoon.

That comment made me realize we had been used all night and the morning.

Despite the time since our last meal, I was not hungry. I was sickened, humiliated, and violated. My ass felt on fire, and I could still taste both of them in my mouth.

Keri and I showered together but it was not a shower of intimacy. We washed each other’s backs but as far as touch, that was where it ended.

There was no need to tell us to smoke. All I wanted to do was get high.

The smoke did its job and soon to my surprise, Keri was using her newfound skills to suck my cock until I came.

“What are they?” she asked after she swallowed.

“Demons?” I guessed, though I didn’t know what demons were.

“These damn handprints. We belong to her. We will die and she will make us suffer for her amusement for eternity.” Keri told me.

I didn’t argue, there was no point. She was likely right. Of course, we were damned. How could there be a paradise after death for a woman who had killed a helpless young girl when she was meant to rescue her. How could there be forgiveness for a man who loved watching others die?

Chloe didn’t deserve this. She was innocent, her only desire to serve, to be dominated. Was this her reward? An eternity of being dominated. She had also enjoyed being fucked while watching others die and dreaming of being in their place.

Despite my ass being sore, when Keri lay against me in our position from before I caressed her breast and slipped my hand between her legs, rubbing her clit and sticking fingers inside her. She had came twice while I had regained an erection when our rapists returned.

“Up you two. You have people to greet. Actually, you must stay quiet, but you will be lovely decoration.” The man told us.

They walked inside and the female took hold of my hard cock and led me by it as I struggled to keep up. In the hallway were the others who had walked with us to this dungeon. Most cells were two males apiece and I was grateful I had been locked with a woman as beautiful as Keri. The males all sported impressive erections like I did, and I wondered if they had been tempted or despaired enough to offer each other pleasure. I was very thankful for Keri at that moment.

I also shivered when I noticed they all had handprints on their chests except the other female who had it where Keri’s was. They were all different colors; none were solid black like mine and Keri’s. How many demons were there?

Despite my erect cock I damn near pissed myself when we walked outside. We were led to the walkway we had entered just outside the mansion. Another two hundred feet and we would be on the steep walk down. I knew we would not get that far.

Instead, on either sides of the flat walkway, there were crosses on the ground.

Had so much time passed? It was the afternoon, and I knew the executions usually began in the morning and this was not the execution ground.

“Relax, dead boys and girls.” Our female executioner told our doomed group. “This is just a preview. Some very important friends, VIPs I suppose you could call them, are arriving early from different points on the island. You are the decoration. Lay down on your crosses and spread your arms along the patibulum. You know what to do.”

I shivered as I looked at the cross on the ground. This was the first look I had ever had of a real one. The stipes, the patibulum. A crude seat known as a sedicula, and a small footrest I knew as a suppedaneum from my research. This cross was not designed for a quick death at all.

I also saw ropes around the spot for my arms and where my feet would most likely lay against, trying not to slide down as my rough seat would not prevent me. Instead, it would only help thrust my pelvis out more.

I lay down as instructed, trying to be brave and failing. I felt such a coward. I had an idea we would not die yet, but we would hang. I stayed still except my trembling. I turned my head and saw Keri was close to hyperventilating, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. Despite my own fear I could not help but notice her beauty and because of the smokes we had, my cock was still hard. I suspected the fear would not let it soften anytime soon.

I am ashamed to say I whimpered when the ropes were quickly and professionally wrapped around my arms and feet. To no surprise the cross fit me perfectly.

This was the first taste. My first taste of being bound to my execution device and unable to move.

The foot of the cross had a hinge to it, and it must have been operated by some mechanical system because we were rose slowly. My body slid and as I suspected, the slanted seat, caused me to slide down, thrusting my abdomen and cock out.

I strained to breath! My weight was on my feet and my hands, secured by the ropes. I used the ropes to push up with my feet and it hurt. How much worse would I hurt when there were nails in my hands and feet.

When I reached the top and was able to take a breath, I looked towards Keri as she was looking at me. The tough, vicious spy had tears in her eyes.

She shook her head sadly and lowered herself once again.

“No worries. The seat won’t be there for the real deal.” My female owner told me. “We have something much better planned. You will be grateful we fucked your ass so hard today.” She told me.

I dropped my head, taking that in and realizing not just pain waited for me but humiliation instead.

A murmur of voices and I realized others were coming up the steep steps.

They would parade by us, stop to examine us. We weren’t very high. They would touch us. My female torturer was only head high to my cock.

I concentrated on my straining muscles and prepared for the public humiliation to come.

To be continued

very good continue

 

[tygavin]

Keri POV

I had told Jason when we arrived that having us naked and shackled would dehumanize us, bring us to the level of pets, all intended to break us. I told him it was very effective.

I had no idea how right I was.

The ropes trapping my wrists to this cross were painful. My muscles stretched in this position was agony. I was strong, but never had I been hung like this. I felt as if my arms were being ripped from my body. I had difficulty taking a breath.

I instinctively knew we should be quiet or at least not speak to the guests. It wouldn’t be a problem. The ropes tying me to this angled footrests burned, digging into my skin. I was able to raise myself but barely. Every time I did, it felt as if the ropes dug further into my ankles and feet. The seat my ass was supposed to rest on was useless. My ass could find no purchase and rather than giving me rest, it thrust my hips out further.

This could become worse than when I had been tortured and raped during training. At least then it was only me and the trainers. I knew eventually it would stop. I wouldn’t be examined by well-dressed rich people sipping champagne as I hung spread out before them. It would also not end.

Yes, tonight I will likely go back to my cell and fuck Jason all night, before being shaved in the morning and led out to the execution grounds and having this done to me in greater agony. As painful as this is, my mind has a small idea how much worse it will be when nails are driven through my body where ropes burn skin now.

I looked to my left and saw Jason, hanging as I was. He wasn’t far away, perhaps only ten feet. His side profile was gorgeous. Unsurprisingly his cock was only semi hard, a remnant of the weed we smoked before hanging.

I had become quite fond of him. Knowing we were going to die, knowing we were equals rather than one of us being dominant had left me more comfortable with him. I even sucked his cock., something I never thought I would voluntarily do to a man.

The crowd of VIPs had reached the top of the hill and were now walking between us. Many began poking my body, men and women, talking about my form, my muscles. A few stuck fingers inside me and one woman even stuck her finger in my ass and laughed at how tight it was.

I said nothing.

I turned to Jason and saw he was getting his cock stroked by Mrs. Jones and was now very hard. He had a beautiful cock and I wished it was fucking me now. Life in our cage hadn’t been bad when the guards weren’t raping us.

I lifted myself up occasionally, not as high as I could, moaning to my disappointment in myself, then allowed myself to hang still, enduring the comments, not all unkind, about my body and how lovely I will look dying.

I took the opportunity to look at the others across from me while a man groped my breasts.

There was only one other woman and while she didn’t strike me as the dominant type, she obviously was if she was with us. She struck me as a former cheerleader who had kept in shape. She was short, perhaps five foot, maybe five foot one inches tall. She was very healthy, her abdomen muscles showing prominently while stretched out. There was no extra fat on her breasts, they were obviously natural and hung loose. She had sandy blonde hair, a bit lighter than mine and though I had never wanted to fuck a woman, she was just the type I would like to kill.

I wasn’t that person anymore. I wasn’t the hunter. I was the prey who willingly walked into the cage and now had a handprint on my belly, just above my navel, marking me as property.

Mrs. Smith, my new owner, was in front of me now.

“You aren’t putting on a show. You should be wiggling on this cross, dancing, twisting your hips to find a position of comfort that isn’t there.” She complained.

“I’m good where I’m at.” I rasped.

The woman smirked, then gave a grin that sent shivers down my sweaty body.

“Once you are dead, you will be in my realm. I will give you a new body. I will determine what happens to you, who or what fucks you, how much you suffer. I may let you hang for eternity. Have the skin whipped off your body, only for it to regrow and done again. This is your fate, Keri. If I were you, I would strive to please me.”

I shook my head in disgust. “You are evil. You all are, right? You are some sort of demons, or devils?”

Mrs. Smith shook her head. “Evil? I’m not the one who stabbed a terrified girl I was meant to save simply for the thrill. Look around you. Everyone in this group joined the Community because they like to see people die horribly. You like to watch the fear on the victims’ faces. You fuck and masturbate while the poor souls hang or burn. Yet you call me evil? If I am evil, what does that make you?”

I said nothing. What could I say? She said nothing that wasn’t true. The sad part is, if I could go back, I would likely still kill the girl, still savor the fear in her eyes as I cut into her and still join this group.

But death like this was something I had never imagined. I thought I would be captured by an enemy, shot in the back of the head, tied to a post and shot through the heart. Perhaps I would be put to death by hanging or beheading. Then the lights would go out, the party over and I would be no more.

I was not prepared for this.

“I think it is time for you to truly dance. Give me a moment.”

I watched her walk to the next cross where I finally noticed a male guard was rubbing a cream of some sort onto Jason’s cock. It was coming to life, hardening before my eyes, despite the obvious pain he was in. Mrs. Smith said something to him she found amusing and took the jar from the guard, then she returned to me.

She took a glob of the cream on her fingers.

Then her fingers were inside me, probing, rubbing, deeper and deeper. Her hands were warm, almost hot, reminding me of when she marked my soul as hers. After thoroughly coating the gooey cream inside me she pulled back and smiled up at me.

It started slowly then picked up speed. My pussy became wet, my body was burning, and I needed to be fucked so badly. Despite the pain from being stretched out, the desire to not add to my humiliation by dancing for these people or demons, I began moving. I couldn’t not stand the itch, the need for a cock to fill me. I began rubbing my thighs together back and forth as much as possible. I twisted side to side, trying to find someway to rub my pussy on the slanted wooden seat under my ass. Nothing worked and I screamed in frustration many times. The constant movement placed more pressure on my arms, but I didn’t care. My need to cum overcame the pain.

The crowd was laughing, they were commenting on what a good fuck I must be. I turned briefly as I slid to the right and saw Jason humping the air, begging to be stroked, his cock extremely hard, as if he were about to cum. He wouldn’t though. I had done the same to my husband when I denied his orgasms. I kept him hard but denied him release.

Now it was being done to me. I groaned and begged. I no longer had any shame. I wanted my nipples pulled. I wanted the drops of sweat caused by this tropical heat licked off my body.

“Call me Dominus.” Mrs. Smith said.

“Please Dominus, fuck me.”

She shook her head then slapped the side of my ass.

“My pets do not cum until I decide. You have no right to beg.”

The crowd laughed and cheered. I took a look at the other female, and she was being watched by an attractive male, dancing as I was. If I had been thinking clearly I would suppose he was her new demonic owner.

I felt a splash of hot liquid on my undulating belly. It was sperm. Some man in the audience in front of me had jerked off and came so hard it landed on me. Others were jerking off, men and women, as I twisted and turned, lifted and moaned.

I’m not sure how long I hung before I finally passed out. I must have blacked out at some point because I found myself on the ground, still strapped to the cross with no memory of being lowered.

When I was cut from my bonds, two people or things grabbed me, and I stumbled along to my cage. I was thrown on the floor and Jason was thrown on top of me.

Despite the pain I was in, I begged him to fuck me, and he entered me immediately. We humped like animals. I came over and over and he did the same. I’m not sure how long it lasted before I passed out.

Somehow we found our way to the bed in each other’s arms which is where I woke up.

The guards banged on the door.

I sat up in bed and took stock of myself. Every muscle in my body hurt, my pussy was still warm and wet. The inside of my thigs were covered in dry cum that had leaked out of my pussy. My wrists and feet burned as if on fire from the rope burns.

“What is going on?” Jason asked the guards sleepily.

“You are to be showered, cleansed and waxed.” The black hooded female told him. “The party starts today, the guests are arriving and by noon, the two of you will be dancing on your crosses on your way to physical death on this plane of existence, the first step to an eternity of rape, torture and other suffering Dominus can think of.”

We stumbled out of the small bed and the cuffs were taken off as well as our collars. I had become so accustomed to them I no longer gave them thought. The cuffs had been taken off before we were tied the day before but put back on at some point.

Now that my wrists were free of rope or metal, now that my throat was relieved of my only clothing, I felt more naked than since I entered the plane and said goodbye to clothing forever.

I took Jason’s hand for comfort, and we followed. I’m not sure what his thoughts were, but I was cursing my existence.

To be continued

Author note- Would you like to see Keri’s thoughts and experiences, Jason’s as they are nailed? I enjoy writing both so I leave it to you, dear friends.

 

[Blue]

If I have to choose I’m going with Keri. I see her as the stronger Don so her breaking will be more dramatic and intense.

On the other hand hearing Jason’s thoughts as he watches his wife’s execution offers many moments of great suffering and anguish; which you describe so well in all your work.

How about both...?

 

[bispanker]

If I have to choose I’m going with Keri. I see her as the stronger Don so her breaking will be more dramatic and intense.

On the other hand hearing Jason’s thoughts as he watches his wife’s execution offers many moments of great suffering and anguish; which you describe so well in all your work.

How about both...?

yes how about both as they watch each other suffer on the cross to death

 

[nicole]

of course Keri's thoughts are more exciting, but Jason watching his wife suffer and wanting to join her is also very exciting.

 

[Loinclothslave]

I’m loving the daemonic twist, @tygavin

As for your question I guess the greedy answer is both, but if I have to choose only 1 I think Jason given we only very rarely get a male’s perspective to being crucified?

 

[carloscruz]

Many of you fantasies coincide with mine. Probably because of that I like so much your stories. Right now I am writing one with many point in common with this one.
please continue!

 

[sebastian]

So looking forward to the continuation of this story. The consensual aspect is compelling. Jason the dominant husband having to resign himself to degradation and torture while at the same time being aroused by the prospect of his wife being crucified. Keri sounds as if she will put on a fine display for everybody when she is nailed up...............