Today is Sunday. It's noon and I'm sitting on my steps waiting to be picked up. All of this has happened in only a week. At last week's graduation party my brother and his friends asked me to do a scene with them. They wanted me to play a slut who would be crucified for her sins. This required a victim, hopefully young, hopefully physically attractive. To be stripped naked, whipped and put to the cross. I knew the instant I heard it I wanted to be that victim. They wanted my sister Robin but they would have had to force her. I was more willing. In fact I couldn't wait. I told my brother we'd need to negotiate a long scene like this so a day later I was given a contract outlining how long it would be, what would happen, what wouldn't happen. I would be picked up today at noon and driven to the site of my ordeal, a secret site. Except we all knew where it was. Just a big lonely field. It takes about two hours to drive there, in Maine, out in the hills north of Portland, an isolated wood lot reachable by a long dirt road. An ideal spot. According to the contract once we got there I would be strung up by my wrists in the nude to await my punishment. Stringing me up like that gave the guys time to come and minister to me, however they would, and gave me time to think about what was to be done to me over the next few hours. It also gave them time to arrange the rest of the scene. The real action consisted of a flogging, of me, and then my crucifixion. While I was strung up, they would erect a frame from which I would be hung for my flogging. Then they would assemble my cross and we'd be ready. The flogging in the nude was scheduled to last one hour. That was a long time but I had endured one of three hours even though I had passed out several times and had had to be revived. Today, after the whipping, I would be marched to the cross and the actual crucifixion would take place. That was scheduled to last until the sun went down over the trees directly in front of where I would be hanging from the cross. That would the boys time to take me down from the cross and revive me and give everyone time to get back out to the main road before dark set in. So if you figure I'm picked up at noon, we arrive at two, I'm hung out to await my fate until three, I'm flogged until four and on my cross by five that gives about two and one-half hours to suffer on the cross. Doable. Besides these details there were other things in the contract. I would be driven to the site with my hands and feet bound and a blindfold on. That was to make sure the location of the "secret" site remained a secret. Hopefully they'd tell the driver of the car where it was. There would be at least one girl with me at all times. That was to protect my virtue, something I had in fact surrendered willingly to my third boyfriend when I was fourteen. I would have surrendered it willingly to either of my first two boyfriends but they never asked, somewhat to my chagrin. Once at the site I would be forcibly stripped and hung out to await punishment. Forcibly stripped. I knew by that time I'd be so horny if they weren't fast enough I'd strip myself. During this phase of the punishment they would use clamps on me. That's a bondage thing. I don't think the Romans put nipple clamps on people before real crucifixions. I made them add a clause that they could not put the clamps on my genitals. Ick. Also there was to be no fucking. At least no fucking of me. By them. Again according to my contract I was to be whipped and crucified while completely naked. Not even earrings. People could touch me but there was to be no penetration, i.e. no rape, and no one could hit me with anything but of course the whip while I was being flogged. The whip was described in the contract. A store bought three-tail cat about two feet long made of soft leather. Not too bad. The first time I was flogged it was done with a wet piece of hemp, which hurt like hell. I would be whipped only on my bare ass and the backs of the top part of my thighs. They knew I have thin legs and that whipping my thighs would hurt like hell. Not that whipping my bare ass wouldn't. I would then be taken down, bound and marched to the cross. The cross would be the traditional kind on which Jesus was crucified. The kind that looks like a T. A lot of girls, me included, like to be done on the kind of cross that's shaped like an X. The attraction for me is having my legs spread wide because it makes me feel so vulnerable. If there are guys there, and I wouldn't be tortured without them, it also gives you the thrill that comes with knowing the power of your pussy, the power of the pink. Because every guy I ever talked to wants to see girls on that kind of cross, too. I thought I might like to try it for this scene but having your legs spread like that is kind of personal and I didn't think I wanted to spread `em for too many people. Maybe next time. So I let it go. Maybe the girlfriends didn't want their men seeing me that way. Might give them ideas about what else my cunt might be good for later on. It also said the cross would be made of wood, a two by four for a cross piece and a four by four for a base although these details hardly seemed to matter to the victim. I was to be tied to the cross with rope, of course, no nails, no barbed wire, etc. They would tie my wrists with my arms spread wide and also bind my elbows and my upper arms near my shoulders. That was fine. I knew I wouldn't be strong enough just to hang by my wrists. I would be supplied with a pussy rope and I could cum as much as I could manage, none of this orgasm control crap. I would be crucified facing the sun. It was the middle of the summer and it would be very hot, in the nineties, or the high thirties if you're into Celsius, always assuming it didn't rain which it rarely does in the summer. Being in the sun all day didn't concern me. I spend a lot of time at the beach, as much time as possible topless and my bare, still snow white ass would be somewhat hidden. Plus the girl who was to be with me all during this protecting my non existent virtue was to be provided with sunscreen. Photography would be not allowed though I'd be powerless to prevent it. While on the cross I could be flogged some more and stimulated sexually as long as nothing went into me but otherwise I was to be left alone. I could ask for as much water as I wanted and it would be given. If I passed out I would be taken down and revived and that would be the end of it, unlike my other long whippings when they revived me and just kept on whipping me. There were no bathroom breaks. I would just have to pee on myself. I'm sure there were people who would love to see that. It would be almost eight hours from the time I was picked up until the time I was taken down from the cross. While naked I had to be really naked. Condemned girls in ancient Rome didn't wear jewelry. Also for some reason I could not even wear any sanitary protection. This was a moot point since I was not going to be on the rag at the time but of course they didn't know that. I guess they wanted to make sure they had an unobstructed view of my cunt, either that or they wanted to see me bleed. I would be sprayed with bug spray as soon as I was hung out to await my ordeal and as often as I needed it. That was some comfort anyway. I wouldn't be eaten alive by bugs. People could say anything they wanted to me, call me names, make fun of my body, threaten me. There was no mention of a safe word, which didn't surprise me with one of my brothers in charge. I didn't ask for one. I really wanted to suffer through all of this. I woke up at 4:30AM that morning and lay in bed for awhile and finally was up at six. There was no way in hell I could sleep. Wolfed down an English muffin, grabbed a cup of coffee and drove to the beach. It was already seventy-five degrees or so and it wasn't even seven. This was going to be a hot one. Great. Clad in my little red bikini, barefoot, I ran the mile and one half to the jetty and sat down among the rocks. I run every day and go to the gym. I need to keep my body in trim for swimming and the kind of modeling jobs I'm offered. Since there were few people around and I was half hidden among the rocks I untied my top behind my neck and caught a few rays on my bare tits. Some girls sunbathe topless right on the beach but I don't. My tits are mine so I don't give them away except to boyfriends and the people I do scenes with. I just sat there and contemplated my future, my immediate future, like the rest of the day. My tits liked the sun. It also seemed they knew they were going to spend much of the rest of the day bare. Sitting there looking out at the ocean, almost alone, it seemed hard to believe I was going to finish the day hanging naked from a cross. Of course I was almost naked right now and in any case being nude was the least of my worries. I've been whipped nude a lot before too. Enough to know I was going to enjoy today's session with that little store bought whip. Enjoy every second of it, every inch of me. The crucifixion was another matter. I wasn't sure how much it would hurt, how much trouble it would be to get my breath, whether anything really bad would happen to me, whether I could last the two and one half hours. But I looked forward to the feel of the crotch rope against my cunt lips and the chance to achieve an orgasm in still another set of new circumstances. Right in front of everybody. Speaking of which, feeling the warmth of the sun against my bare tits, I slipped my hand down the front of my bikini bottoms only to take it right back out when two fishermen came up behind me and started walking out the jetty. They were like six feet from me. I sat up quick and squeezed my boobs tight against my knees to try to maintain some shred of dignity as they went by. They went about their business and for about an hour I sat there just enjoying the sun and the water and the little breeze there was. Finally I just stood up. I didn't pull my top up until one of the fishermen spotted me standing there. I wanted them to spot me. They looked at me, I looked at them. I have nice tits, not that big but I enjoyed showing them off. After a few seconds I pulled the loose strings of my top up under my hair, tied it and started running back down the beach. Back home I read the Sunday paper and then lay in my bikini bottoms on the lounge chair on my porch. At eleven I went inside and took a shower and washed my hair. As I dried I watched myself in the mirror. I was still the slim, virginal lass I was in high school. At five ten and a hundred twenty five I was thin. Topless sunbathing at our camp had taken the pure white edge off them but they still stood out a little pale against my suntanned body. I turned and surveyed my snow white behind and thought how in a few hours it was going to suffer so under the whip. Turning back around I dabbed a little perfume behind my ears, on my neck, between my tits and at the top of the crack in my ass. Quarter of twelve, I took a leak and got dressed to go. Promptly at noon an SUV arrived to pick me up, one of the huge ones that look more like commercial vehicles than cars. There were five people in it, three guys and two girls. I remembered them from college parties my brother had invited me too. I sat in the third row with the two girls. The two guys who weren't driving sat just in front of me in the second seat. I knew this was for a reason. As we drove off the girls had me lean forward while they bound my wrists behind my back. They took my cross trainers and my socks off and bound my ankles. At that point they waited until we had crossed the bridge and got to the New Hampshire tolls. Then, past the view of the toll takers, they blindfolded me and we drove for two hours. It was uncomfortable sitting like that having my hands tied behind me. I was wearing a short-sleeved white blouse, a little bra, short denim shorts and white cotton underpants. Not long after they finished tying me one of the girls unbuttoned my blouse down to my waist and pushed it off my shoulders. She unhooked my bra in the front and pushed the cups to either side, baring me in the front to my belly button. Even blindfolded I could tell from their voices the guys in the passenger seats had turned around to stare at me. After a while I could feel us turn off the smooth paved roads onto the dirt road which led to the site of the festivities. Ten minutes later we came to a stop. My clothes were arranged as I had put them on and I was trundled out of the SUV, hands and feet still bound, still blindfolded. I practically fell over and finally someone had sense enough to untie my ankles. After all I could hardly run away. Still blindfolded, a boy on either side of me holding me by the arms, they walked me along the path I knew led to the clearing where I would be tortured. Already my nipples were so hard they hurt and my pussy cried for relief. ---------------------------------------------------------------- We had arrived at the clearing and my blindfold had been removed. We were at the bottom of a long hill. It was there at the bottom I would be strung up and put on display for an hour. A long piece of two by four had been put up years ago between two trees, tied in the crotches of branches on either tree about nine feet off the ground. I'd be suspended in the nude from that and would face up the hill. This was just to get me naked, loosen me up a bit, give people a chance to come by and chat and give me a chance to think about what was going to be done to me. Thinking about it can be the best, and the worst, part of any ordeal like this. My brother took control of the proceedings. First he ordered me stripped naked. I was put in charge of four of his college buddies who would do the honors for me for most of the day. Three of them were guys. Not to my surprise they happened to be the three guys I had dated but I hadn't fucked any of them. Just a little petting. The fourth person was a girl. She was there to make sure none of the guys tried to slip me the root when no one was looking. And I knew from personal experience that two of these guys could have done it so quickly no one would have had time to notice. Including me. But I digress. They proceeded with the stripping. The contract I had signed called for a forced stripping but it didn't really happen that way. They had to untie my wrists so I could take my shirt and my bra off, which I gladly did. I loved the feeling of the warm sun on my bare tits. Then they had me cross my wrists in front of me and one of the guys who had dated me tied my wrists tightly together. One of the other guys threw a rope over the two by four over my head and they tied the other end of it to the rope that bound my wrists. Then they pulled on the free end of the rope until my hands were straight up over my head and I was almost on tiptoes and they tied off the free end of the rope to a tree and I was suspended and helpless. I still had my shorts and my panties on but they soon remedied that. One of the guys stood in front of me leering at me and slowly unzipped my shorts and began to wiggle them down over my ass. As soon as I was naked, people started gathering in front of me, mostly staring at me from a distance. My brother told my keepers to put suntan lotion on me and spray me with bug spray. I needed the sun tan oil on my bare ass which was almost snow white. My brother told me that there was a ground swell of interest in seeing my breasts whipped. My contract called for only an ass and back of the upper thigh whipping. I told him I didn't think it was fair to wait until the victim was naked and helpless to start discussing changes to the contract. If I knew I was going to have my breasts done I would have had a drink before hand to dull the pain. Having my tits whipped hurt bad since I'm so thin. But I told him I'd do it if they used a single tail whip while they were doing my boobs and if the guys who had dated me got to do the whole whipping. I figured it would be sexy to make the guys who had derived so much pleasure from my naked body inflict a lot of pain on it. Plus, during a whipping a certain amount of emotional intimacy is created between the person being whipped and the person doing the whipping. Especially if they are facing you doing some really special girl body part like your tits. It's almost like sharing your body with a boy during a sex act. I'm sure that same type of intimacy is created during a crucifixion. In any case I was soon to find out. More people are involved and they are not actively participating in torturing you but you still have the guys standing below you, devouring your naked body with their eyes while you're undergoing the torture. Every part of you is offered to them. Tits, cunt, ass, everything. You belong to them and if you survive they take with them a little part of you you can never have back. A little bit of your innocence, a little bit of your heart. They forever have an intimate connection with you because they've stripped you naked, had you helpless, made you scream in pain. It's like letting a guy fuck you. For a time he owns all of you. You're pinned underneath him and part of him is inside you. And you can never erase the connection you have with him. That he's had your naked body. I always wonder at that part of it, letting the guy into my own private world while he's torturing me. He told me they didn't have a single tailed whip so I told him they could just rap two of the tails of the three tail whip they were going to use on me around the handle and presto, a single tail whip. For a minute I just basked in the glow of my nude body, of what was being done to it. I love being tied up and, having my arms stretched high above me, my body displayed at full length in front of all these men, was delicious. I could feel the sun on my back and on my bare white ass. Despite being hung between two trees the sun was high enough so it reached me between the branches. Despite the ninety-five degree heat the sun felt good. It felt strongest on my bum. I've noticed that sunbathing topless or in the nude. The sun always feels hotter on the white parts of my body. Hanging there helpless I kind of threw my hair back and stuck my tits out and ground my hips a little. I squeezed my thighs together and felt the warm wetness of my cunt and the tightness in my abdomen that some time later would explode into many orgasms. For a minute I slipped away inside my own little world but I came back down when they started putting suntan lotion on me. The three guys who had dated me shared the honors. Of course it was just an excuse to feel me up, they could care less if I got a sunburn. It was the first time any of them had gotten to see my pussy. They made the most of the opportunity. After they finished, people started coming up to visit with me. Some of the boys talked to me as if we had run into each other at a frat party,like I wasn't naked and helpless. The girls just stared. Some of them made comments on my body. My tits were popular. They're OK. I like them. Small. Right for my body. They're bigger now that they were when I was younger but smaller than my sister Robin's who is four years younger than I am. It was strange trying to talk to some of the boys. Some of them unabashedly stared at my nude body. One guy walked slowly around behind me and surveyed my snow-white bum at some length. I smiled thinking maybe he was more interested in that than my anterior features. If so he was wasting his time. Nobody's ever done me in the ass and as far as I'm concerned nobody's going to. Even if I am tied up. Hanging there naked with all these people around me, staring at me, made me hornier and hornier. One girl came up and described to me what being crucified was really going to be like. The gathering ache in my arms and shoulders from holding up the weight of my body. The agony of trying to push myself up by my legs so I could breathe. The scraping of the wood of the cross against my back and the raw red welts on my bare ass. The agony of not being able to get enough air, of slowly suffocating. And of it going on hour after hour. And there's no reprieve. Just me and the agony of slowly dieing on the cross. By the time she was through talking I was so wet I could feel it down my thighs. A girl who was ministering to me came up to me and told me it was time to do a little more to me to loosen me up. Nipple clamps and stuff. I told her I had to pee and she told me if I could hold it she'd let me do it in the woods when they cut me down to go to the whipping rather than piss on my leg. That was fine with me. To help me start off on my little journey of pain she brought out a little tray of various nipple torture devices and displayed them for me. I shuddered a little thinking about having those things applied to my tits but I knew I had to get some endorphins flowing before I went to my whipping to make it easier for me. Great pain was only a quarter of an hour away. She selected a few for me. Nice silver clamps, each made of two silver sections, an inch and one half pieces connected by screws at each end and equipped with ring nuts so they could be tightened down on your nipples. "Here we go, Sweetie," she told me as she put her tray down and fitted one of these on each of my nipples. Then slowly while a group of boys watched she began to tighten them. Each wing nut tightened just a little bit at a time. And slowly the little needles penetrated my nipples. I winced. She tightened. I winced again. "Shit!" I swore as she tightened them further. "Shit, shit, shit!" It hurt like hell. But I loved it. I loved every second. I loved the pain and I knew this would help me get ready for my whipping. She left me alone with myself and my nipple rings. I looked longingly up the hill. They had finished putting the whipping frame together. Two posts about ten feet high. The posts were about ten feet apart. I would be tied in the nude to ropes running from eye bolts at the top of the posts and at the bottom next to the ground. In less than ten minutes I would be spread eagled naked between a pair of those posts. The crowd would hush. And there in the hot sun I would wait fore the whistle of the whip and the unbelievable pain as it found my soft young body. And for an hour I would be whipped. Whipped until I screamed for mercy and then whipped some more. All in preparation for the cross that loomed further up the hill. With just five minutes to go a guy came and stood in front of me. One of my brother's lacrosse buddies. A huge guy, bare chest, beer in hand, nice looking. The strong, silent type. He said nothing but he stared down at my nude body. Then he looked at my face. He looked me right in the eye. Then he put his hand out and gently caressed my bare tits with his fingertips. "Kiss me," I told him. I was so horny I could scream. He leaned over, put his hand on my neck up under my hair and kissed me hard. He tried to force his tongue between my teeth and at first I wouldn't let him but then I did and he kissed me harder and harder. I pushed my body up against his and started to hump his thigh. He stopped kissing me and I pushed up against him some more. He put his arm around my back and held me to him with his thigh pushed up against my cunt and my tits rubbing against his chest and I rocked my hips up against him like just twice and my body exploded. I screwed my eyes shut and just rocked back and forth as hard as I could against him and I just came and came and came for what seemed like an hour. I just came and came and came and it was delicious, my tits felt like they were on fire and the tight spot above my cunt just released and I just couldn't help it. I kept squeezing up against him so hard I thought he'd break and my whole world turned into bright colors just like it was the Fourth of July like they say in bad novels and it was just tremendous and I was so happy I could have cried and it just seemed to go on and on and I could feel the heat of his body next to me and I just came and came and came. It seemed like it lasted for an hour but it was really only maybe two minutes and then finally, slowly, I started to come back down to earth again and I just sort of leaned up against him with my chest heaving, out of breath, my breasts all flush and sweat coming off me in the hot sun and finally he took his arm off my back and let me just hang there still breathing hard and I opened my eyes and we just looked at each other. He smiled and in a few seconds he was gone. And for another minute I just hung there by my ropes and just basked in the good feelings of my own body, in the glory of having just cum and cum and cum. For a little bit longer I just enjoyed my own naked body, nipples clamps and all, and then finally I was ready and they cut me down to go for my whipping. -------------------------------------------------------- It was now about three o'clock. The sun was still high in the sky behind me and for a couple of minutes I just hung there and enjoyed my nakedness. A bit of a breeze on the front of me contrasted nicely with the sun on my back and my bare ass. I was still sweating from the exertion of having cum in the ninety-five degree heat. Back to today it was great getting off outdoors and I just loved feeling the heat of my own naked body in the hot sun. At this point I was still strung up by my wrists. I noticed my wrists had been chaffed by the ropes, probably while I was cumming. It hurt but the pain felt good. I still had the nipple clamps on and the little needles that they had driven into my nipples still hurt but it almost seemed like partial numbness had set in. My shoulders and my back and my arm muscles were stiff from not being able to move for an hour and even though I wasn't really suspended everything from my nipples up to my elbows ached with the effort of holding myself erect. To me that felt good. I looked out at all those people waiting to see me flogged half to death and even though I had just cum I began to get horny again just thinking about being there, tied up naked and helpless. I had been whipped many times before and I did know what was about to happen to me. I felt that little tingle of terror somewhere down in my tummy. But I wasn't really scared. I wanted what was about to be done to me. The girl who was helping me came and unscrewed my nipple clamps. They hurt like hell coming off. It wasn't the first time somebody had put nipple clamps on me but these had those little sadey-mae needles in them that had pierced my nipples and that made it worse. Then the three guys who had dated me came up and cut me down. When the rope let go I just fell into a heap. And nobody made a move to help me. Just like I was a real captive. Or a sack of wet cowshit. I'm a country girl. While I lay there they took the ropes off my wrists and I started rubbing them to try to lessen the pain. I reminded the girl that she had said she'd let me go pee in the woods so I wouldn't have to go on my legs but the three guys who had dated me insisted on tying my hands behind my back first. What did they think I was going to do? Run off barefoot through the woods completely naked miles from a road and try to escape? Anyway they had me get on my knees and started retying my wrists behind me and while they did so I looked up the hill at what awaited me. Up beyond that I could see the cross standing alone in the sun waiting to claim its naked victim. The thought of being whipped didn't really scare me since I'd been whipped many times before. But you never know how bad it's going to be and how much you'll be able to take. And I had belatedly agreed to let them whip my tits. At one level I really enjoyed being whipped anyplace else, except my cunt of course, but tit whipping always hurt me like hell. I just don't have enough tit to cushion the blows and sometimes it seems like the whip is driving what tit I do have back against my breastbone. The thought of being crucified did scare me tho, but first I had to get through the whipping. At least today, with the crowd there, I knew they couldn't kill me. Anyway two of the three guys who had dated me hauled me to my feet by my arms and the girl took me back into the woods so I could pee. The guys wanted to watch but I said no. I admit I'm a little weird but watching people urinate is a little too much. Anyway we got back out of sight and I squatted down with my hands bound behind me and the girl let me pee and even wiped my privates with a fluffy towel. Then she put more sun block on me. All over me. It was funny having a girl rubbing my breasts and my bare ass but I liked it. She was kind of cute. She had really nice big tits. Then she sprayed me with some more of the bug spray. She fixed my hair a little and gave me a long drink of water and then it was time to go to the whip. I could hardly wait for the first stroke against the soft flesh of my bare ass. The first thing they did was untie my wrists and handcuff me, my hands behind my back. I'd rather feel the roughness of the ropes on my skin, and the handcuffs actually hurt a little but I let them do it. I figured this was far from the worst pain I'd feel that afternoon. They put a collar around my neck and attached a chain. The chain was like thirty feet long. They started wrapping it around me, around my arms and my body and, when they got down to where my arms went behind me, just around my body. They wrapped the chain really tight and it hurt me. When they got down to my waist they ran the chain in between my legs and pulled it up tight in the back and padlocked the end to one of the loops around my body. It hurt a lot, it was so tight and the links in the chain rubbed against the outside of my arms and around my waists and especially between my legs. The links of the chain went right between my pussy lips and hurt me just standing still. But I didn't complain. I wanted this to happen to me. And after all they were supposed to be torturing me. As we walked, the chains that bound me began to hurt even more. With every step the links rubbed harshly against my arms and my sides, wherever they touched me. Sometimes they'd catch against my tit rings and they'd pull on my nipples. But the chain between my legs hurt worst of all, of course. I wondered if the people at the home center had any idea where some of the chains they sold ended up. Between a helpless girls legs, hard and cold against her cunt lips. I've had ropes down there and they're a turn on. But the chain just hurt me. Every step the cruel metal scrapped my cunt. I have always marveled at the sensuality of a girl's breasts. I loved my own and all the pleasure they had brought me. And they'd brought a few guys some pleasure too along the way. I'll always remember the first time I willingly bared my chest for a boy, as opposed to being stripped for some game. And the first time a boy felt me up, again really felt me up like a boyfriend, not while I was tied to a tree or something by the neighborhood guys. Now in a very few minutes, however, my breasts would bring me great pain. I could see the attraction watching a girl whipping had for all the guys. Whenever I was whipped I loved every minute of it. They'd strip me and tie me up and flog me within an inch of my life. I was very young the first time. The younger and more virginal you are the better they like it. Not that I can claim to be a virgin, that went a long time ago. But at eighteen I still looked innocent and pure, especially with no cunt hair. The fantasy works for some people. I remember screaming for mercy that first time, my body twisting back and forth with the pain, trying not to lose control. And finally, in the last half hour, they broke me. But they didn't stop whipping me. That last half hour was hell on earth for me. And the people whipping me and watching me suffer loved every minute of it. I broke out in a cold sweat and fear seized my entire body. I began to shake uncontrollably and pleaded with them but they wouldn't stop. I remember pulling desperately against my ropes but I couldn't get free, no matter what I did. I couldn't close my legs. Guys told me I was like a vision of loveliness up there. Completely naked, all breasts and cunt and ass, soaked in sweat, my body twisting helplessly as the whip kept hitting me. But despite all the agony I came so many times I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. I noticed there were a lot of college guys here today, guys older than I, just barely eighteen. I wondered how many naked girls they had seen in their lives. Whether they had ever seen a naked girl tortured like they would today. I thought of my own naked body and how they'd spend the next four hours staring at me. I looked forward to it. I thought about the first times guys had seen me nude. I was already wet but it made me even wetter to think about it. I love having guys watch me. I love running on the beach in my littlest bikini. I love sunning myself on my porch in the nude knowing my brothers can get a glimpse of me. I wanted to be naked before these guys. I wished I were the first naked girl they'd ever seen. Then we proceeded up to the whipping posts. They stood me in between the two that were still available, four by fours about ten feet high and ten feet apart. Gleaming silver screw eyes at the tops and the bottoms of each pole beckoned for the chains that would soon hold me. A ladder stood at the ready to help stretch my naked body up toward the sky. They undid the two shorter chains that had been attached to my neck chain and had been held by the girls. They unlocked the padlock that held the chains to my body and began unwrapping them. I sighed with relief as they took the one through my legs off me. They unwrapped the rest of it and undid it from my collar. They took the collar off and positioned me between the posts. They undid one side of the handcuffs and immediately attached another set of cuffs to the wrist that was now free. They took the shorter chains that had been held by the two girls and slipped the part of the open side of the handcuffs that would normally go around your wrists into the last link of the chain and snapped each cuff shut. One of them climbed a ladder to the top of each pole in turn and ran the free end of each chain through the screw eyes at the top of each pole and let the chain trail down to the ground. All the while they just let me stand there. They seemed to know I wouldn't run away. And it made me feel even sexier knowing I could have tried to run and I didn't. I wanted to surrender willingly, naked, naked as the day I was born. They put a furry bondage collar around each of my ankles. They padlocked one end of the long chain that had been around my body to the d-ring on the collar around my left leg, ran it through the screw eye at the foot of the left post then all the way across underneath me to the right post and then back and through the d-ring on the collar on my right ankle. Then slowly, carefully they spread my feet apart and pulled the chain taut so I couldn't move my feet either in or out. I could see the boys in the crowd stare at my cunt. Dream on, boys. This is your only chance. Well, now and when I'm on the cross. Then at the same time they began to pull the chains attached to the handcuffs on my wrists down through the screw eyes up above raising my hands up over my head until I was spread like a starfish. Then they pulled me up as tight as I would go. "Shit!" I yelled out as the handcuffs pulled tight against my wrists. "Shit!" I cried again as they padlocked the chains to the lower screw eyes to hold me stretched tight. I was completely and utterly helpless, completely and utterly exposed, naked and helpless, spread eagled in the sun. They gave me a minute. Or at least I had one. I needed to gather my strength for the ordeal at hand. I prayed a little. Hail, Mary. Mary, help me. I talked to myself a little. It was just like before a race. You can do this. You CAN do this. And I thought I could. I would. I had no choice. And now I am ready. Ready for my whipping. Too wonderful by half. Naked in front of all these people, legs spread wide, the hot sun shining on my sweating body. I felt the sudden ache inside me, deep inside, that tells me I need to get off. As I hang there that's all I want. I don't really care what they have to do to me to get me there. All I care about is the deep delicious pressure inside me, the warmth in my breasts, the quivering of my ass, the wetness of my cunt. I can smell myself, the smell of sex, the smell of a wet and horny girl, a girl who's ready, legs spread and willingly. Me. If only they'd touch me. Down there, almost anywhere and my thin brown body would explode. But I'll have to wait. Wait for the thinness of the lash to cut my soft white ass, my snow white tits until my cunt explodes and I scream with the relief only my body can give me. Such sweet agony. It's almost more than I can bear. And they haven't even hit me yet. -------------------------------------------------------------------- The guy who helped me cum appears in front of me. He stares me up and down. My soft brown puppy body is his for the taking, however he might. I wondered what it would be like to have him fuck me. I knew he was wondering what it would be like to do it. He pushes my hair back from my face. Gently. Softly traces the tan lines over each of my tits, circles his fingertip around each nipple and gently flicks my bare nipples. He has a nice touch. He can have me any time he wants. Like right now. His finger goes right down the middle of me, between my tits, down between the two halves of my ribcage to my bellybutton where by now it's damp with the sweat that's collected there. Then his finger trails down further over my tummy through the little brown forest of hair between my wide spread legs. And then he touches me, now his fingers are inside me, between the soft pink lips and on my clit. He puts his fingers to his lips, wets them and brings them back down. I feel them inside me. Gently. Like we were lovers. Inside, he rubs me lightly. My hips move, my eyes close, my body stiffens, I'm almost there. The sudden heat radiating outwards from my cunt. Nothing else like it. And then he stops. He takes his finger away and leaves me hanging. I nearly collapse right there. Brought to the edge and then the ultimate disappointment. When I open my eyes he's picking up the three tailed whip. For an instant my heart stops. I think about this big strong man applying those cruel strips of leather to my helpless young body. Everywhere. Every inch of me. For an hour. He doubles it over in his hands and places the looped end on my chest just above my tits and slowly moves it down the same path his fingertip took. He looks me in the eye. "I'm going to enjoy every minute of this," he tells me. "So am I," I think to myself but I say nothing. I'm so hot I could scream. He holds it there for a moment then raises it to my mouth to have me kiss it. To kiss the lash that will bring me such pain. I kiss it gladly. "Shall we get started?" he asks. "Yeh," I say softly. He puts the palm of his right hand on each of my bare tits and gives them a gentle squeeze. "What a shame to have to do this to these." My soft white breasts. Then he's behind me. For a minute there is no sound. I stare at the crowd. They stare back at the helpless girl about to suffer. I screw my eyes shut. I hear the whistle of the whip through the air. My whole body stiffens. "Ahhh!" I scream as the hard leather bites into my skin setting my tight young ass on fire. I don't know how many times I've been whipped. I do remember the first time. I was alone in the woods in what I thought was one of my secret places. I can still feel how scared I was when they set upon me while I was lying in the sun. Three of them. Guys I knew. They took me to a nearby tree, bound my wrists together in front of me and strung me up from an overhanging limb. Then they stripped me. All I had on to start with was this little bikini and I was naked in two minutes, but being slowly stripped seemed to take forever. And I loved it. I loved the power my body gave me over them. Especially when I was naked. I remember the butterflies in my stomach as the guy who did the honors opened the straps on my bra and slowly prepared to bare my bosom. Underneath my top, my breasts were as white as the snow, as soft as silk. Then he lowered the flimsy little garment an inch at a time until my breasts were bared. I already knew how exquisitely sensitive my tits were to a boy's touches. Nevertheless, I was awestruck at how it felt when they each felt me up gently and how I loved the painful feelings as they pinched my nipples. Then there was the heaving of my chest and the pounding of my heart as he untied the sides of my bikini bottoms and I knew I was moments from being nude. And suddenly I was. It wasn't the first time I was nude with a boy and not even the first time I was tied up nude with a boy. It wasn't even the first time I was tied up nude against my will. But now I was old enough so the consequences were potentially different. And I loved it.. I felt the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the summer breeze on my breasts and my bare ass and the wetness between my legs. It was enchanting. I didn't know what they were going to do to me. I guess I thought they wanted sex but they didn't, at least they never entered me. But they enjoyed my naked body to the fullest with their hands and their mouths and I was in heaven. I had been naked with boys before and boys had touched me before but never like this, tied up and slowly stripped against my will. They spent the better part of an hour feeling me up, stroking my ass and finally my cunt, making fun of me and enjoying the tempting young body that could offer no resistance. Then finally, just like today, one of them slowly unhitched his belt. He forced me to kiss him. Then he spent the next half hour whipping me. Every fucking inch of me. It hurt like hell. I was really thin and not having any padding made it hurt worse. It was unimaginable how much it hurt. Of course that was what they wanted. I screamed and I cried but I learned lessons endurance that I still remember today. Despite the excruciating pain I loved it. Absolutely loved it. I loved being naked in front of the guys. The shining whiteness of my bare chest, untouched by the sun, so unlike the tanned chests of the boys in front of me. The agony of the whip across my hard pink nipples and my soft white breasts. My thin white ass quivering under the lash. My pussy dripping wet, offered to whomever might take it. But thankfully nobody did. I loved the way the whip burned my soft brown body. Loved the way the cool fire that started more in my abdomen than in my cunt grew into the now familiar feelings between my legs. Loved the hunger in their eyes as they devoured the sight of my thin body twisting naked under the lash. Loved how my breathing stood still and my body exploded when he hit me one last time and I came so hard it pushed my hips violently forward and they stared at me in amazement. For the first time I understood the power of the secret garden that lay between my spare brown thighs. When they left me I was filled with confusing emotions. Something that should have been frightening had happened to me but I had enjoyed every minute of it. Something that should have been torture had been incredibly enjoyable. My body had responded to agonizing pain the way it should have responded to a lover's gentle touch. It was several hours before two lovers on their way to the river found me still hanging there completely nude. My body was still flushed with the pleasure of having cum and cum and cum. And I wasn't through. In bed that night my hands were gently busy on my body and I found I now had a fantasy that to this day has provided me with a thousand lovely orgasms. I glowed for days, both from the wonderful feelings from the whipping and in the new found knowledge of what my body could do for me. Now, every time I'm whipped I relive that first experience. Because of the wonderful memory of that day I look forward to being stripped naked. This day I did most of the stripping myself and it bothered me because I find being stripped so sexy. I loved being naked in front of all these people, especially the men. So many men, so little time. I spotted a bunch of guys and girls in the first row and kept my eyes glued on them all through the whipping so I could revel in watching them watch me hanging naked a few feet away from them. I wondered what the boys thought of my naked body. Whether they wanted it. I wondered if they enjoyed watching me being tortured. I wondered what the girls thought. I wondered what they thought of me for wanting this to be done to me. I wondered if they resented me for my willowy body willingly displayed before their boyfriends. I wondered if the girls wanted the boys to do this to them. I wondered if they were all as turned on as much as I was. I envisioned them going home desperately horny, quickly stripping naked and fucking with abandon for hours. Ah the services I provide. Because of that first day, now when I'm flogged I look forward to it. That first time I hadn't known how much it would hurt. I had hardly ever even been spanked growing up, and never on my bare ass. That day I learned how it hurt. It hurt like hell. And it was going to hurt even worse today because the guy whipping me was bigger and stronger than anyone who had whipped me before. I prayed he'd take it easy on me but he didn't. I had learned that first day how wonderful it made my body feel as the whip flailed away at my nubile body and at some point the pain gradually began to recede and slowly my burning ass and burning breasts surrendered control to my burning cunt. And what happened then made it all worthwhile. A volcanic heat rose from deep within my most private parts and soared out of control and filled my body. My breasts and my hips heaved violently and I could feel the blood pounding in my veins as my climax approached with a force I couldn't control and I surrendered to the white hot heat of the orgasm that consumed my body like a firestorm until finally, minutes later, the fire was quenched leaving me gasping for breath. That's why I secretly smiled today when I heard the whistle of his belt in the air and felt the first blow bite into the soft white skin of my ass. I screamed as he hit me, seemingly as hard as he could. My naked body jerked forward despite the chains that held me. Even though I saw it coming out of the corner of my eye the pain caught me by surprise. I swore under my breath. I could hardly believe he wanted to hurt me this much. I yelled as he hit me again, hard, hard, in the same place right across my bare ass. He kept working the same spot to make it worse. He hit me again and this time I promised myself I wouldn't cry out. I had to take this for an hour. I couldn't get too worked up right at the start. I had been whipped enough to know that if I was going to survive without breaking down I had to get a rhythm. I had to prepare myself mentally to take the next stroke before it came. I tensed my arm muscles and pulled on my chains and he hit me a fourth time, still right across the ass, the same place and my skin just burned where he hit me. I screwed my eyes shut and tried to talk to myself to make the pain go away. A fifth time. "Shit," I cried out. So much for not crying out. A sixth and then a seventh right away to keep me off balance. Again I fairly screamed out loud. He was working my ass beautifully, getting both cheeks in the same spot every time. Then eight. This one was easier. I stole a glance at the girl who had been helping me standing off to one side. She looked back in horror. Nine, this one hard as he could to make up for number eight. My body jerked forward and my handcuffs dug into my wrists as they stopped my momentum. I couldn't believe it, my ass was on fire. Then right away ten. I cried out again. I writhed with the pain, pleading to God to help me and cursing the fucking guy and his whip. Mercifully, he let me rest. All I could do was hang there trying to gather my strength to continue, because I knew we would continue. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- He lowered the whip for a minute. The girl who was with me gave me some water and wiped the sweat off me from my face all the way down to my crotch. It was hot as hell and I was soaking wet. With my legs spread wide I could smell the musky odor of sex, left over from having cum only fifteen minutes ago and building again as the fire inside me rebuilt itself. The guy came up behind me and felt my now half pink ass with his hand. He came around in front of me and gently stroked my breasts. Then he made me an offer. If I agreed to fuck him and some of the other lacrosse guys on my brother's team he would let me off easy. I could either give my body to them in a bed or give it to him under the whip. Much as I might have wanted to fuck him, if he asked me straight up, I told him no, my body was not for sale. He told me everyone has a price and we were about to see what mine was. He traced a path down the front of me with the tip of his belt and told me I had no idea what he was going to do to me. But I did have an idea. And as scared as I was of the pain I longed for the feel of the whip. "Get it over with," I almost spit at him. He walked slowly, deliberately, in back of me and stood. He was going to make me wait a bit. He knew the most exquisite part of being tortured was waiting for it to happen, hour by hour, minute by minute, second by second, waiting for the whip to fall or the rack to stretch you or the irons to burn you. Feeling the fear in the pit of your stomach, the fire in your loins, the sweat under your arms, the lovely feel of the ropes. Then he moved directly behind me and started working on me again. I struggled with all my might to escape the chains that held me, my soft, slender arms bound high above my twisting body. The more and more he hit me the more I struggled. I tried desperately to keep my mouth shut but I couldn't, I pleaded, I screamed. My stomach tightened in self-defense as I tried to steel myself against the next blow. As my ass burned a dull ache consumed my arms and my shoulders from holding up my weight. The more he hit me the faster my breath came. The more my breasts heaved the harder it became to breathe. Ten more and he stopped again. By now my whole body was taut and sweating. The girl gave me more water and threw some on my face and my chest. I was half dead already and he'd only hit me twenty times. He was back in my face. All I had to do was to submit. I wouldn't regret it. He knew how to please a woman. He'd fuck me long and hard and deep. I could spare myself all this in exchange for a piece of my ass with a few guys. Well lots of guys have offered to fuck me long and hard and deep and I've told lots of guys no for less reason. Not a chance, buddy. He went back to work behind me. I knew doing my bum was just a warm-up. He wanted the front of my body, not the back and soon he'd have it. For now he laid into my bare ass with a will, with a wild abandon. He started a third set of ten, this time aiming just where my ass cheeks met the top of my thighs. With each stroke the tip of his whip threatened to slip between my legs and sear the moist lips of my cunt. This time there was no hesitation. He was trying to break me. For the fourth set he did the backs of my thighs. My leg muscles are strong from running on the beach and I held up a little better but when he started a fifth set, trying to catch the soft flesh on the inside of my widespread thighs I began to weaken just a little. Over and over he hit me. As the pain increased I shivered somewhere deep inside. My whole body from my waist to my knees was consumed with pain, my mouth was so dry despite the water it felt like sand. As the pain increased my own body began to betray me. I tried to stand up straight and ready myself for every blow. Every fifteen seconds. But every time he hit me I flailed back and forth so much trying to deal with the pain and the fear I couldn't prepare myself for the next one. And still he went on and on and on as I screamed for help, expecting none and getting none until finally, mercifully he stopped. He gave me a minute. All I could do was hang limply from my handcuffs trying desperately to get some kind of composure back but the ordeal was becoming too much and I hung my head and closed my eyes and wept with the pain that seemed to numb my entire lower body. The girl gave me water and tried to clean me up a little so I could continue. Then behind her, in front of me, I saw the guy standing, looking at me, waiting. She finished her ministrations and all that was left in front of me was him. -------------------------------------------------------- I knew what he wanted. Whipping my ass was all fine and good but the essence of a girl is the front of her, her breasts and her cunt and that is what he wanted. He would use those to break me. His eyes fairly bored their way into my pale white tits. My pale white tits. They were next. I tried to gather strength for what was to come but my body had other ideas. I was half frozen with fear. I was weak with the pain of what had already been done to me. Pain and fear are a tough combination. Simply holding myself up took an effort. I was aware of every ache in my body. Escaping was hopeless. I tried writhing and squirming and pulling and all I did was make my wrists start to bleed, make my breath come in short gasps and the sweat pour down the front of me. Once again he talks to me. All I have to do is relent. All I have to do is agree to fuck them and the whipping ends. All I have to do is surrender my moist pink pussy and in return my pale white breasts will be spared. All I had to do was surrender to the hunky guys who stand shirtless out there in the crowd, whether they have girlfriends or no. I closed my eyes and felt his fingers caress my nude body. Every inch of me shivered with pleasure as the touch of his hand warmed me. Gently he stroked my smooth young flesh, his hand ever closer to my cunt, from my tits down over my ribs to the flat plain of my tummy. I felt the blood pumping in my willing body and I moaned softly and pumped my hips like I was fucking somebody. I felt his finger in my bellybutton then in the sparse brown hair that guarded my cunt. Then he was opening me up and I flinched as he found my clit. All you have to do, all you have to do is say yes and this pleasure replaces the pain that aches in every fiber from your ass to your knees. All you have to do is surrender that soft young body. I thought about it. I did. All I had to do was say yes and the torment ends. I looked him in the eye. My whole body trembled with the excitement of having his fingers inside me, inside me, with two hundred people watching. All I have to do is say my soft young body is his. But it isn't. It's mine. I said no. "Tit time," he whispered and my heart sank. He stepped back and took up his whip. The three stranded one. I never even thought he was supposed to use the smaller one to do my boobs. I closed my eyes and heard the familiar hiss through the air and it started. For the next ten minutes he stood three feet away from me and did nothing but whip my bare breasts. First one, then the other. On the tops, on the nipples, on the sides, on the bottoms, across my ribs, both together, each alone. At first I loved every second of it, the lovely bite of the whip, the heaving of my bare bosom, the pounding of my heart, the sweat that poured off me. The joy of being whipped, whipped hard, over and over and over. I'm as helpless as I've ever been in my life. He can do whatever he wants to me. My body drips with sweat and my eyes fill with tears. Yet I never think of trying to get away, trying to get away from the sweet suffering that he offers me with every stroke of the whip. I struggle desperately and the more I do the more the handcuffs cut my wrists until little streaks of blood begin to trickle down my forearms. Little streaks of blood appear around each nipple as the force of the whip cuts into the soft skin that surrounds them. Over and over he hits me. On and on I feel the pain. Slowly inch by inch my courage slips away and now I scream every time he hits me. Every time he hits me. My breasts. My full, round, eager young breasts. Soft, white, tender in the heat of the sun. I shiver with fear, weep with pain, my body hot with passion. My cunt is wet and aching, the smell of sex from my own body is intoxicating. Over and over I hear the whistle of the whip through the air and feel the crack of the blow against my skin, feel the pain as the wide strip of leather cuts cruelly into my bosom. I feel the shock of the blow, the leap of my body against its bonds, the writhing with the pain. The searing pain which spreads from the site of the fine red welt and registers throughout my whole helpless body, the cry that escapes my lips, the silent plea for mercy. Every thing around me seems to fade away. All thoughts of time recede. I know pain in every inch of my body. I can no longer control the fear that wells up inside me. Nothing I've ever experienced has been as bad as this. Another guy comes forward and stands behind me pushing me forward, pushing my tits closer to my tormenter, making it harder for me to avoid the lash and my breasts are thrust forward, making tempting targets for the instrument that tortures them. They tremble wantonly after every blow and every inch of me begs for release from the fiery pain that consumes them and my heart is pounding, pounding, racing out of control. My body thrashes from side to side with each blow, over and over and over, I cry out for mercy, I plead for help, I scream for relief, from the searing pain, from the increasing numbness that invades my whole body, my senses dim, colors fade, sounds become a hollow rush, I see flashes of light, every sensation fades away except the excruciating pain in my tits that gets worse and worse and worse as he hits me again and again and again and I scream and I cry and I scream and I cry and I scream and I cry and suddenly I can stand it no longer. "All right, all right, all right, all right, I'll do it, I'll do it, I'll do it, I'll do it, just stop, just stop, just stop, just stop!" And he stopped. And for an instant I hung there held up only by my chains. Then I tried to raise my head. And everything went black. ---------------------------------------------------------- I had passed out from my whipping. Hanging there in handcuffs, naked and helpless, my arms stretched over my head, legs spread as wide as they would go. I don't think I was out very long. First thing I remember through the haze, my arms had been released and people were holding me up, which was nice since when they cut me down after we were put on display earlier in the day they had cut my wrists free and just let me fall to the ground. My feet were still chained. They had put a padlock on the chain and they were having trouble finding the right key or getting it to work. There were a lot of angry words exchanged, many of them beginning with f, but finally they got me free. They took me over to the side of the hill into the shade and made me sit down. The girl who had been ministering to me gave me some water and someone produced some candy bars because they were afraid I might be weak from hunger. Whatever the case I was starving. I hadn't eaten since eleven and it was after four now. I'm thin but I can eat with the best of them. After some water and nourishment I began to feel better and they returned to treating me more like a girl who was being tortured than a girl who had fainted. I was asked to stand up and they bound both my wrists tightly behind me and then pulled my elbows as close together as they could manage and tied them. I heard someone say they wanted to see my tits stick out and though I don't have big tits tying my elbows did the trick. There were a number of guys standing nearby who clearly appreciated said tits and my helplessness. Then I was forced to sit down again. Even though it was close to one hundred degrees in the sun I was chilly in the shade after sitting a few minutes. I was soaking with sweat from having been whipped and now in the shade it made me cold. The girl who was helping me dried me off as best she could and took off her own blouse and draped it over my shoulders, so at least I was only half naked, the first time I hadn't been completely nude since we had gotten there. This now made her half naked because she had no bra on even though she needed one. Anyway, she had large tits and I complimented her on them. So did a few of the guys. I have less than average sized tits though I'm told they're nice. At any rate no one who's ever been granted access to them has complained. Plenty of guys have spent considerable time with them. The other girl had two nice tattoos on her boobs, one on top of the left one and another on the inside of the right. She said the one on top of the left one was meant to be seen in a low cut top or a bathing suit by anyone, but that the one hidden on the inside of the right tit was for special people only. This made me and the two dozen or so guys standing there feel quite special. It also made me think about when my breasts first came in. I remember how nice it was to finally have my smooth girlish chest enhanced with these two perhaps smallish but nevertheless soft, exquisitely sensitive boobs. Finally a grown up girl. By now I felt better. I looked up the hill and saw the cross from which I would soon hang. And shivered with my fear. -------------------------------------------------------- There was no real hurry as it was only about quarter past four so I was allowed to stay a little longer in the shade. Finally I was made to stand up and I asked the girl who was helping me if I could go into the woods to relieve myself as I had done after we had been taken down from being on display. She said OK so, wrists and elbows still bound behind me, we went into the woods and I squatted to pee. Several of the men followed us. It wasn't clear whether they didn't know what was going to happen or whether they really wanted to watch me pee. In any case they watched. I'm a bit strange, I know. But really. We came back out of the woods and the girl took back her shirt and gave me some more water and then I walked unassisted out to where my two by four awaited me. They wanted me to carry it across my shoulders in back of my neck with my arms draped over it and walk up the hill. It was about eight feet long and was not heavy so after they untied my wrists and my elbows I did as I was told. Even with my arms outstretched carrying my crossbar, my body open and offered I was totally at ease with myself. I reveled in presenting my tortured body with unembarrassed frankness and fairly glowed seeing their undisguised enchantment with my nakedness. There was no doubt in my mind that the fascination they had for the scene that was unfolding was with the eroticism of seeing me naked and helpless and struggling. Perhaps many of them wanted to see pain inflicted upon me but it is the eroticism of the scene that makes it so disturbing and provocative. When I was growing up, my parents had tried to shelter me, to shelter my budding young body and my sexuality from the gaze of anonymous boys, and even those who were my friends. But I resisted their well-intentioned attempts. I loved being a girl. I rejoiced in the attention my body brought me from males. I wanted to spread my newly grown sexual wings and I did. I wanted the luxury of making up my own mind about how I would use my body. I learned early the power having a good body gave me and I learned how to use it. And I did, as often as I could. I had an enduring acceptance of my sexuality and a virtual absence of shame. Besides learning how to fuck I learned other games. Tie up and strip games where I, being the only girl in the neighborhood, was always chosen as the victim. In our house or someone else's. In our yard or in a nearby forest. Stripped naked, tied to a tree, tied to a bed, tied with my hands over my head, spread-eagled on the ground, my thin brown naked body offered, ready, willing and able. Whenever I was bound and tormented, no matter what they did to me, I was completely at peace with my body, bare tits, bare ass, bare legs, bare tummy and ultimately bare cunt. The proof of my girlhood, pink and wet between my wide spread legs. I loved every minute, despite the pain they might inflict upon me. And it was always done while I was completely nude. That was a choice that I made, I didn't even have to think about it. I was comfortable that way. It never occurred to me that anyone would find anything in it which was dirty. It was me, bare naked and happy. At last we arrived. I stood before the cross, waiting there for me at the top of the hill. Staring up at the hard white wood from which my soft brown body would soon hang. They took the crossbar off my shoulders and laid it on the ground just in front of the cross. They had me turn around to face the crowd and then made me sit down on the ground just in front of the bar. They came forward with the bucket of water which contained the long strands of soaked rawhide with which I would be bound. As the sun dried the water soaked strands would shrink and slowly, painfully tighten against my skin, holding me ever more tightly to the cross. Then they had me lie back and spread my arms to either side along the crossbar, my legs together on the ground in front of me. The man who had whipped me came and sat down astride my shins, whether to comfort me or hold me there I didn't know. I lay there naked in the hot sun and whispered a prayer. It had been a long time since I was first stripped naked in the sun but lying there now I had a profound sense that nothing much had changed inside me in all that time. The little girl in me was still there. I had changed physically, outwardly. The girl had grown into a lovely young woman with a woman's body which had satisfied many men. But there were still unmistakable traces of the slim brown body I had grown up with. The slen- derness and glow of my bare legs, the taut white behind, the indrawn abdomen, the still narrow not quite flat chest, the pink mouth, the russet curls on my head, the sleek little fox hairs on the plump little hillock which afforded me a trace of modesty. But lying there about to be crucified I was still helpless and innocent and suddenly scared as the day I was first strung up by my wrists. I felt the fear well up in my stomach, knowing what they were going to do to me, helpless to stop them. I lay there alone, offered to the tortures that awaited me, my brown skin luminescent against the grass burnt brown by the sun. The little girl still lay there small, trembling, frightened, not really comprehending what was to be done to her. That girl still existed and waited now as they laid the rawhide strips out above her outstretched arms. ------------------------------------------------------------ Slowly they began to tie my wrists to the bar. This part I reveled in. I had always known there was something about being tied up and tickled or being pinned down wrestling that was special to me. The warm wet feelings that infused my body. I didn't understand what it was until I was maybe just becoming a teenager. All I knew was it felt good. Whipping was the most glorious thing for me but mostly I had to settle for being tied down and tickled or having ice cubes used on me. Finally in college I had boyfriends who liked to tie me up and have their way with me. I'll never forget the first time I was tied to a bed with my consent and fucked until I screamed for mercy. Eventually I would ask them to do other things to me, all the things that had been done to me before except now I was in control. All this came back to me as I felt the wetness of the rawhide, the hardness of it against my skin as they wrapped it around my already injured wrists, the bite of it against my skin as they knotted it tight. Now there was no return. I shivered somewhere deep inside, terror began to grip me, my mouth was dry as sand. Sweat glistened on my bare skin. The girl who was with me knelt down and began to sponge me off gently. They continued to tie me. Now the rawhide bit into my forearms as they wrapped it around me and pulled it tight. Then my elbows, then my upper arms, then my shoulders, criss-cross over my chest above my tits, already aflame with desire. They tie the ropes into the screw eyes on my beam, the ropes that will haul me into the air. Then they make me stand up and, with three men on either side, I feel the rawhide go taut on my arms and across my chest and I'm slowly raised up to my tiptoes and then I feel the first glint of the pain that will haunt me for the next two and one half hours. Then my toes can no longer feel the ground and I cry out with the excruciating pain that sears my arms and my shoulders and my chest and my ribs. My torture has begun. Slowly, inch by inch, I ascend the cross. They tie the ropes into the screw eyes on the beam I'm bound to, the ropes they will use to haul me into the air. They make me stand up and then the ropes are thrown up and over the crossbar which is fixed to the post behind me. They take hold of the ropes. With three men on either side they start to pull. I feel the rawhide that binds my arms go taut and as the crossbar I'm tied to starts to rise. I'm slowly pulled up to my tiptoes and I feel the first glint of the pain that will haunt me for the next two and one half hours. Then my toes can no longer feel the ground and I cry out with the excruciating pain that sears my arms and my shoulders and my chest and my ribs. Slowly, inch-by-inch, I ascend the cross. My ordeal has begun. Slowly my body rose into the air. I've suffered many times under the whip but still I found the pain incredible as the full weight of my body was transferred to my arms and my shoulders. It felt as if both of my arms were being torn from their sockets, like my shoulders were being torn from my chest and my chest from my ribs. My body screamed out with the pain as I was lifted higher and higher. I tried to fight every inch but before I was even halfway up, the pain overcame me and I started banging my head back against the post. Finally my body just released and I was stretched out full length in mid-air. ------------------------------------------------------ For a minute I just hung there screaming as they arranged the ladder behind me and someone climbed up to fasten my crossbar to the post. Then they attached the crosspiece behind my shins which would serve as the base on which I could push myself up to help me breath. They bent my legs at the knees and pulled then back so my ankles crossed behind the post, my shins resting upon the crosspiece. Then they bound my feet together crosswise, spreading my knees wide to expose my cunt. Then the ladder was removed and I was left to my torment. So now I was crucified. I had been bound before with my arms outstretched, sometimes on my tiptoes but never before suspended like this, not since I was little. I couldn't believe the pain. But in addition to the pain in my limbs almost immediately I found I could only take shallow short breaths. I didn't try to act brave. I screamed and begged for mercy, for release, for some kind of relief. Even the effort of crying out made the pain worse. Now I understood why crucifixion was chosen as a punishment, both by those who would truly torture and those, like me, who wished to be tortured. The shame, the pain, the horror, the sexual excitement all combined to make it a truly surpassing experience. There is shame and horrid pain for the girl being tortured and sexual excitement for both her and her torturers. And if done right I knew it could go on for days. And now I hung there. The cross became my altar, the altar on which I was to be sacrificed in the hot sun. The sun would burn my naked body, the thin strands of wet rawhide which laced my arms and shoulders to the cross would slowly tighten as they dried in the sun, the heat and the sweat pouring from my body would slowly dehydrate me and the weight of my body would drag me further down until breathing became impossible. And meanwhile, every inch of me was offered to the eager crowd below me, my brown thighs and back, the tender globes of my narrow white ass, my soft heaving bosom, my taut stomach, the silken floss that covers the plump hillock above the sensitive lips of my hot young pussy. I could feel the roughness of the wood on my back and my ass. The heat of the sun on my soft, pale breasts, thrust forward now, tempting mounds of sensitive flesh topped by hard pink nipples, each pierced by its shiny gold ring. My thinly muscled brown belly strained with the effort of keeping myself erect to breath. My thighs fought to hold me up. My bare white ass trembled temptingly as I pulled desperately at my bonds and begged for relief from the fire that consumed every part of me. Barely I could make out faces in the crowd below me. Some were simply curious to see this cruel but erotic ritual, others eager to see my slender body, stripped naked, bound, twisting wantonly, glistening in the morning sun with the sweat of my struggles. I watched my audience closely. The girls seemed entranced by the suffering of my body while the guys were clearly more interested in my nakedness, how my boobs moved, how wet I was. And wet I was. I stared back at the crowd come to see me tortured, most of whom I had never seen before. It's different being naked for strangers than for people you know. And different if the person you're with is a lover or some guy you know who's never seen you naked before. But I do enjoy being naked for strangers and feel less self-conscious knowing I'll never see them again. There's something very sexy indeed about being nude in front of people and then later being clothed with them, both of you knowing they've seen you in the nude. And before hand seeing them when you are clothed and you know and they know they will soon see you nude. I love being with men who know they soon will see me naked. Who wait expectantly, knowing the mysteries of my taut young body will soon be revealed. I love nothing better than to be bound naked before a man to be tortured, no matter what the means. Having them so close they can practically feel you sweat and having the man torturing you talk to you while he does so, telling you how much he admires your naked body and what he is going to do to it and how long it will take. ------------------------------------------------------ The entire day had been an intense sexual experience. The giving of my body to my torturers, the exposure to the audience, my scourging, the procession to the whipping frame and then to the cross, the drama of being bound nude and raised up to hang fully exposed. I love being displayed naked and in agony. God help me I loved every bit of it. Being bound, the tightness of the ropes, the discomfort in my wrists and my arms and my shoulders, the feelings of helplessness, vulnerability, expectancy. The physical sensations of being turned on, rock like nipples, the warmth and moisture inside my loins. The agony of the crucifixion itself, surrendering, submitting, sometimes faltering, forlorn, frightened, struggling, shaking, crying, trying to summon my courage to continue, the uncertainty of never knowing quite how long I could last. The ecstasy of feeling sexual pleasure like I'd never felt in bed with a boy or a girl. As the clock ticked I felt my breathing become more difficult, felt my heart beat faster, felt the bite of the ropes around my limbs and the glory of my naked body. My soft brown body with the snow white breasts and ass, the pink lips of my pussy and the warmth in my loins, knowing all the while what it could do for me. Crucifixion is the ultimate torture one can actually endure and expect to escape unharmed and I had jumped at the chance to experience it. I had found the anticipation of being punished this way completely terrified me. It was summer, hot and humid, the worst time to do it. When the time had come to do it I was fearful, sick at heart, desperate and all but caved in emotionally while just being whipped. And when I went to the cross the agony was unbearable. But deep down inside I loved it. I loved the tingle in my loins and the pleasure of my own nude body. The ropes hurt me terribly. They were supposed to. I like to be hurt. I want to be tied, to be completely, hopelessly, abjectly helpless. My body responds to being the victim. -------------------------------------------------------- As I hung there I felt the heat of the sun on my naked body and it felt good. All I had to do was last until the sun slipped noiselessly behind the tree line three hundred yards in front of me. For now I welcomed it as it warmed the gentle curve of my breasts, kissed the pinkness of my nipples, caressed the smooth skin of my belly, peaked at the smoothness of my bare white ass as I struggled on the cross, tickled the softness of my inner thighs, smoothed the downy runway of my cunt hair and caught a hint of the pinkness of my cunt lips. Now and then I began to fight. Of course I never put up a real fight all through the entire day, except when I was actually being whipped or on the cross. Other than that I just let them do whatever they wanted to me. A few times when I was younger and some things were done to me against my will I have never put up a fight. I want the stuff done to me. I've tried simulated rape scenes but they don't work for me. It's hard to struggle against people trying to tie you to the bed when you can't wait to be tied. Today I would have preferred to be tied up first and then slowly stripped. Just being strung up in a bikini with ties provides plenty of tantalizing exposure of the girl inside it and allows her little outfit to be slowly removed at any time. Being slowly stripped just before whatever is going to be done is one of the most delicious parts of being tortured. Ever since I was could remember I rejoiced in an ordeal such as this. Being stripped first to my underwear, or a little bikini. Almost nude but not quite. As much of me offered as possible without revealing all of me. Keeping me as naked as possible without preempting the coming ceremony of finally stripping me naked. Then slowly, inch by inch, baring my breasts and pulling my panties down to reveal every sweet inch of me. To feel hands upon me, tickling my moist little slit, moving slowly up over the tops of my thighs, across my stomach to my breasts. My breasts, soft, white, bared to the prying eyes of my captors. Bared to whatever cruelty they saw fit to visit upon them. And I look forward to it, waiting, waiting, waiting for the pain to start, terrified, trembling, shivering, perhaps weeping with the fear, the fear of what is to come. Struggling, struggling against my ropes, feeling them cut into my soft white skin. Hearing the call of my body. Waiting, waiting, loving every minute, loving the soft breeze over my naked body, the heat of the air, the slight heaving of my chest, the quickening of my pulse, the hint of sweat across my forehead, under my arms, beneath my boobs, in the soft crease of my tummy, between my thighs. Then finally it starts. It is difficult to describe the joy of being tortured. Hung naked and tortured. Really tortured, with no mercy. The waiting is over and they torture you mercilessly. The anticipating is done and the reality is here. And nothing quite equals the reality. Nothing quite equals the thrill as every inch of you burns. You struggle helplessly against the ropes that hold you tight. Your body twists and turns wantonly under the instruments of torture as you try desperately to escape. And the best kind of torture is the one you know you cannot escape. The one done with no safe word, no chance for mercy, no hope of reprieve. Just like that first time, the first time I was stripped naked in the woods and my nude body whipped until my bare ass was red and raw and my tits were on fire with the pain inflicted by the lash across the tender white flesh. And all the while I pleaded for mercy that I knew would never come. That was the day that made me. It was warm that day too and I was bound and stripped naked in the sun. There was no embarrassment in it for me. In fact my whole body purred. Being naked had plugged my body into some socket and I was humming on high. I didn't know why I liked it but I knew I did and as I grew older my interest grew with my body. That day I first felt the power that my body gave me, a daisy fresh girl, as they gazed in wonder at my nakedness. The whiteness of my bare chest, the soft fold of my stomach, the gentle curve of my ass, my long silken legs, the gentle sheen of tiny golden hairs on my body catching the light, full lips parted, hair disheveled. I loved being naked and I loved being helpless. I loved every second of it. And now I know the best orgasms I have ever had, have been with lovers, boy or girl, who understood the effect being helpless has on me, helpless while I give myself freely, wantonly, joyfully, all of me, letting myself be taken. ----------------------------------------------------- And today I hung naked on a cross. Slowly the heat of the sun dried the wet rawhide and tightened it around my bare limbs. I'm tied with a single strand, a single strand they know will cut into the skin against the bones of my wrists and the sinews inside my elbows and where my biceps meet my shoulders and where my shoulders meet my chest. A small refinement of cruelty. And slowly the rawhide did its job. I'd been tied for less than an hour and already the rawhide had begun to cut into my soft flesh. I lay my head back against the post and prayed for some relief, knowing there wouldn't be any until the sun set below the trees. I hung there helplessly sobbing, almost wishing I would just die there. In addition to the searing pain in my arms and shoulders and chest and my stomach, my ass was now so sunburned that the pressure of the cross against it hurt mercilessly as well. Every time I tried to lift myself up to breathe the pain became worse. The heat of the sun on my nude body began to make my mind wander. And still it went on and on, every minute a hell of pain and suffering. Some people have been crucified for days and still they lived on. Many people lasted several days even though they had been nailed to the cross, instead of tied with ropes. But I would not have been able to last for days. The hot sun, the flogging I had endured before being put to the cross, my being a girl were all beginning to be my undoing. More time passed with more suffering. Pain seemed to come to my naked body in waves and each time I tried to brace myself to fight it. Every passing moment brought more and more suffering. Every moment the strain in my arms and shoulders increased. Every breath was now an effort. My muscles seemed to be on the point of tearing apart with the strain of trying to support my body weight. First my arms, then my shoulders then the muscles above my tits, then in my stomach gradually begin to weaken. Soon I could no longer hold myself up but would hang there limply. I tried to keep my breathing steady. I had to concentrate on it but as the pain in my muscles increased it became harder and harder. By the end of the second hour the pain in my limbs had been replaced by a dull ache. My body slowly began to go numb, bringing me closer to the time I would no longer be able to pull myself up to breathe. My muscles and joints began to stiffen. I had more and more difficulty pulling myself up for air. But I knew I could hold on. A half hour at most as my friend the sun sank slowly but steadily in the west. I felt the searing pain as my body weight took hold, the ropes tightened and slowly the weight of my own luscious little body began to squeeze the life out of me while I struggled mightily, helplessly, desperately, almost futilely to lift myself up to get enough air. And then came my undoing. They told me I must suffer in that last half hour the way girls on the cross have always suffered just before the end. They took from me the one thing that was keeping me alive, the little piece of wood upon which my shins rested was removed. --------------------------------------------------------- I screamed, I cried, I begged for mercy but it did not good. I tried desperately to clench my legs against the post so I could push myself up and get some air. And for a few minutes it worked. But slowly my legs began to weaken. Slowly I could no longer get a hold on the pole. Slowly the muscles in my thighs began to burn with the pain. And slowly the pain turned to numbness, my fear turned into fog, and as I weakened more and more I slowly drifted to the very edge of this world, toward another, toward the blackness that would surely come when I could no longer breathe. In the last half hour I suffered terribly, every inch of my slight brown body simply a conduit for pain. Slowly, slowly I was being tortured to death. Every minute seemed like an eternity. I begged for help with my last breath. I sank lower and lower on the cross as my muscles gave way. With a desperate effort I pushed myself up just enough to raise my body and admit enough air to continue living for another minute. Now I was no longer aware of the crowd. I was no longer aware of being nude. I was only aware of the pain and the agony of slowly suffocating to death. My breath hardly came at all now. My eyes tried to focus but more and more I was aware only of suffering. I began to break down. Whatever composure I had had now dissolved. I sobbed uncontrollably. Now I could not raise myself to breathe and what breaths I could mange were hardly worth the effort. There was no respite from the pain. My head sank onto my chest. At length I was not aware even of breathing. Without even realizing it I had stopped trying. The sky grew dark around me. I felt the blood pounding in my head. My soft slender body hung wantonly in mid air, every naked inch of me crying for relief, from the searing pain, the increasing numbing of my limbs, the desperate struggle for air, the lack of blood to my brain, the dimming of my senses, colors gray, sounds a hollow rush. I felt the soft approach of darkness, then flashes of light, then more darkness, then a strange quietness, a feeling of peace, relief from the excruciating pain and then I drifted off to nothingness. A final quivering of my naked body and then nothingness. All that was left was my naked body hanging limply from the cross in the heat of the late afternoon. Once again I had passed out. According to my contract this meant they had to take me down and they did. They tell me I was out about five minutes, which is kind of a long time to be passed out. In any case by the time I slowly began to emerge from the haze I was laying on the ground but was still bound to the two by four that had formed the horizontal half of my cross. I was still stark naked. They were trying to untie me but the rawhide had dried almost solid in the hot sun and they couldn't undo the knots. It was just like after the whipping, getting myself untied was harder than getting myself tied. But that's always the way. Lots of guys want to tie up a naked girl but find one wants to untie her. Hmm. Thank God for that. There was more arguing, more f words. Finally they just cut me free. They lifted me off the cross and I lay there in the grass for a few more minutes, still nude, just supporting myself on one elbow, enough to take some water from my helper. After a while I sat up. My helper gave me some more candy bars to eat and a few minutes later I began to perk up a little. Since eleven that morning I had only had the two candy bars she had given me after the whipping and I was starving and weak. It was now about seven thirty. The sun was just disappearing behind the trees at the other end of our little playground. That was the sign to end the game anyway so I only missed finishing my ordeal successfully by a very few minutes. I wanted to go home. I was tired, hungry and physically hurt. Since I didn't have anyone special to curl up with here I'd rather go home and curl up there. They produced a stretcher on which to carry me to the cars and I took advantage of it. My girl helper had my clothes and, for once, I was thoroughly tired of being nude so I stood up long enough to put on my underpants and my shorts. I put my arms inside my shirt and stuck my bra into my waistband. My arms and shoulders hurt so much there was no way I was climbing into a bra. I lay down on the stretcher and two of the guys picked me up and we started down the hill. By the time I had finished zoning out on all that we had reached the parking lot. I stood in front of the van which had brought me and waited for the others I had come with. Fully dressed and with my hair fixed a little, few people recognized me even though for the last six hours they had been staring at me. It seemed odd to be standing there largely ignored when a half hour ago I had been the center of attention. When the people I was waiting for didn't come after about fifteen minutes I bummed a ride with my brother's roommate. He told me he'd take me right to my door in Hamilton. He gave me water to drink and some potato chips. I don't normally eat stuff like that but I was still starving. I fell asleep in the back of his car as we drove and two hours later I woke up when we stopped at the tolls just North of Massachusetts. Finally I was home at maybe 10:30 and I made a big plate of spaghetti and showered and got into bed but there was no way I was going to be able to fall asleep. I was still too keyed up and every muscle in my body ached. I wrote in my diary for a while and watched TV for a while then just lay there in the dark. I thought about what had been done to me that day. At length my hands slipped down to my breasts and my cunt and slowly, languidly, I got myself off there in the warmth of my own bed. Finally at some point I dropped off to sleep. Next morning I went for a massage with a lady I knew who had bondage sympathies. I met her originally through her grandfather, a friend of my photographer Harry. The grandfather was distin- guished because he had built himself a replica of a medieval torture rack and was always looking for female volunteers to try it out. Harry showed me photographs he had taken of the machine in use. So I volunteered and one summery day in a little homestead near Damariscotta for three hours each he gently tortured both me and Jennie on his infernal device. Harry got a nice fee for pimping us out and the massage lady got her usual fee from Jennie and me for working out the kinks the machine had put in us. So I went for my post crucifixion massage. It was overcast but warm so I just stripped off in her back yard and she did the massage under a sunshade because it had started to rain. Just about every inch of me hurt like hell. My wrists had been severely chaffed, my arms and my shoulders hurt maybe the worst, so did my chest muscles and my stomach and my thighs from trying to raise myself up to breathe. My tits and my ass hurt some from the whipping. I took the massage completely naked. Usually I at least wear a towel across my ass but after all I had gone through the day before any modesty I still possessed had pretty much gone by the wayside. There was no one there except her daughter Shannon. Knowing I had been whipped the massage lady spent a lot of time on my bare ass kneading it very gently. And we both enjoyed it when she did my breasts and between my thighs and up into my crotch. It was fun but what I really needed work on were my upper body muscles still aching from being on the cross. Oh well. After my massage and despite the rain Shannon and I hopped in the swimming pool. We just kind of floated around on rubber rafts. I was still naked and she could see the marks on my body. During our swim she told me she was interested in learning to play. She told me her mother had introduced her to light whipping and her great grandfather had put her on the rack for a few minutes. In her bikini of course. When her mother went inside Shannon showed me herself naked. Maybe she thought she had to audition. She was pretty and had a really cute body. She was as Irish as she could be. Red hair, snow white skin, freckles where the sun shone on her. Soft, medium sized tits, nice bottom, not thin or fat but healthy looking. Furry red bush, really furry considering it was summer. I told her she passed muster and she put her suit back on just in time. She asked me what it was like to be really tortured in the nude. I told her it was like dancing naked in a field of lilies. She asked me if we'd take her for her official initiation and I promised I would. But no boys and shave off that bush. She happily said OK. Later I looked at her body lying next to me on her raft. I envied her her seeming innocence. I had lost mine too early, I thought. By her age I already knew what it was like to be tied up, stripped naked, felt up, whipped, strung up, spreadeagled, a whole host of things she could only dream about. It would have been nice to have been a kid a little longer. But whether or not my head had been ready, my body had been, and every naked inch of me had sung the chorus from I Enjoy Being A Girl. Looking at her floating there I wondered if she knew all the pleasures her body could provide her hanging naked in the warm air and waiting for and experiencing the bite of Jennie's whip on her soft girlish body. Lying there in the pool I thought about what had been done to me the day before. I had enjoyed it immensely, even when they were torturing me. I got a hell of a whipping, which is always nice, and had my first introduction to a real crucifixion. I've played games before where you're spread eagled standing which is position wise a little like crucifixion though not a fraction as painful. I like spread-eagled better because my cunt is exposed and I like the feeling of vulnerability and like showing off my body. On many other occasions I've been tied up with my arms pulled behind me over a bar, which is nice because it makes your breasts stick out. Anything to make them bigger. The guys who see me whipped regularly always want me to get them done but no way. That kind of a position is great for any kind of tit torture including whipping. Being whipped in the front is nice because you're looking the person who's doing you right in the face. They enjoy your nakedness to the fullest. You enjoy giving yourself totally to them. They can truly appreciate what you have to offer a boy, sexually anyway. You can watch them take aim at your breasts or your tummy or your thighs and see the whip on its way to your tender flesh. They can see your reaction to every blow. You can look them in the eye and plead for mercy and they can tell you to go to hell. You can see their reaction to what they are doing to you and how much they are enjoying it. If somebody's a real sadist you can see it in their eyes. I've been in the control of one or two real freaks and watching them, feeling them work over your helpless, naked body is the ultimate trip for someone like me. The fear you feel deep in your heart when you look at them and know they are really going to hurt you. On Sunday I had been tortured exclusively by guys. Being tortured by males is inherently different than being tortured by girls. Girls are so much more cruel. They know a girl's body and a girl's mind and they use both against you expertly. They know the pleasures and the anxieties of being slowly stripped. The delicious anticipation of being nude, of having your most tender parts exposed to the whip, the clamp, the knife or the lit cigarette. Once they have you naked they take more time, they leave you there thinking about what they are going to do to you. And then they do it, long slow, carefully, almost lovingly, doing every naked inch of you. Up and down, front and back, tits and ass. Even inside you. Long and slow while you scream for them to stop. I remember the first time I was really tortured by girls, not friends of mine screwing around but girls who really wanted to hurt me. It went on unendingly and I was so scared and they were so expert at it I never forgot what they did to me. This was the first time I had been crucified being older. We had messed around with it a few times when I was younger. Then we often did it on a cross shaped like an X with the victim's legs spread, especially if the victim was a girl. Like I say that was something I missed this time. My legs spread wide, the men staring fascinated at the moist pink slit they would never have. The power of my pussy, the power of being a girl. I found crucifixion inherently different from whipping and much more like my experiences on the rack, especially her granddad's. Crucifixion is a long, slow, unrelenting, merciless torture and death. As a real method of execution it is meant to be so, both to inflict maximum suffering on the victim and to issue a warning to the spectators. Its fun in that you can really get your head into it and enjoy it in different stages. But I found I missed some of the familiar pleasures of being whipped. The whistle of the whip through the air, the crack of the blow against the skin. The pain you feel as the thin strip of wet rawhide cuts into your soft flesh. The shock of the blow, the leap of your body against its bonds, the writhing with the pain. The searing pain which spreads from the site of the fine red welt and registers throughout your whole helpless body. The cry that escapes your lips, the silent plea for mercy. Then, after a few seconds, the pain recedes, slowly, partly, but not entirely. Your breathing quiets some and you try to prepare for the next blow. And then you hear the whistle again. The familiar sound of the whip moving through the air. Toward your body. And it starts all over again. And again. And again. I decided I liked that better, the thrill, the anticipation that keeps repeating over and over where with crucifixion it's just one long slow procession toward blackness. Finally around eleven I got dressed and said goodbye and hopped in my car and drove to Dunkin Donuts to get coffee and some bagels and then headed to the beach. I felt great. I was happy and relaxed. I hopped on 128 and drove to Beverly and in no time was at West Beach. It's private but with the rain I knew there would be no one checking cars. I bought more coffee at the refreshment stand and even though it was drizzling lightly I sat on the hood of my car and drank my coffee. It felt good sitting there. It was cooler than it had been for a week. I had no athletic gear but it was a weekday and it was raining so there was no one around to speak of. I stripped to my undies and, barefoot, ran South down the beach to the jetty maybe a mile and a half away. I sat hidden away in the rocks and took off my bra, this time for the feeling of the rain on my tits, not as usual for the warmth of the sun. And, the truth be told, to show off my tits to the world. Of course there were no people there so the world consisted of the birds and the water and the ocean and the rain and the breeze. Enough world for any girl, to paraphrase Thoreau. The rain had made my underpants transparent, so much so you could see my pussy lips right through them. Even though no one could see me I felt really sexy. Even more sexy than when I'm nude `cause I felt like I was keeping a little part of me to myself. I closed my eyes and gave myself a nice long feel. I spread my thighs, put my hand in my under pants between my legs and poked my trusty middle finger inside me. After just two minutes I was ready. I just screwed my eyes shut and leaned back and came gloriously right there in between the rocks. I sat there for what must have been three hours. I had to pee because of the coffee and there was no one around so I just dropped my undies and squatted right there. At one point an old man came along and walked out the jetty to fish. I felt so sexy I didn't even bother to cover my tits but I did take my hand out of my pants. But I don't think he even noticed me. Around three thirty I got up and started running back toward the car with my breasts still bare. At some points I ran just as fast as I could. Sometimes I ran in the water. Sometimes I walked. I was alone. Completely alone. All alone with myself and it was great. I felt the wind and the rain on my nearly nude body. I love being topless outdoors. It feels so good and I so enjoy having a girl's body. I passed no one on the beach because of the rain but I amused myself thinking that guys with long spyglasses were peering at me from just inside the windows of the ocean front houses I passed. That could very well be, actually. Finally, on a whim, I stopped and took off my panties and walked slowly along the water's edge the rest of the way back, completely nude. Reluctantly, a hundred yards from the parking lot, I stopped and put on my undies and walked to the car. A couple of people looked at me funny, a smiling young girl in the rain in just her underwear walking the beach on a rainy day. I put a towel down on the front seat and got in the car just the way I was, soaking wet, nearly nude in my transparent little under things and drove back to Hamilton feeling very pleased with myself.