By Louetta

This is part 8 of an 8 part epic of me being crucified when I was
18 by my brother's college friends



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. I told him I'd think about it.

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 the bush. She
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 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 edge of the water 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 got in the car just
the way I was, soaking wet, nearly nude in my transparent little
under things and back to Hamilton feeling very pleased with
myself. 
