By Louetta

This is part 6 of an 8 part saga of me and some of my 
brother's college buddies.



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. 

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 slenderness 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.

