By Louetta

Thoughts on whipping and crucifixion.


On many other occasions I've been tied up to be tortured with my
arms pulled behind me over a bar, which is nice because it makes
your breasts stick out. Anything to make them look bigger. The
boys 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 on the front of your
body 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.

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 torment.

Once they have you naked girls 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.

I remember the first time I was crucified for real. 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 girl's legs spread. I
loved doing it that way, having my most tender, private parts
exposed. My legs spread wide, the boys 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.
Crucifixion is a long, slow, unrelenting, merciless torture. 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. When you try it as a bondage game its fun in that you
can really get your head into it and enjoy it in different
stages.

But I found in being crucified that 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.

louetta_keene@yahoo.com
