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.