Caroline on the Cross

Author's Note: This story is one of a series I've been working on. The premise is that there exists a private club, known as the "Villa di Dolore", dedicated to assisting its members in playing out their kinky fantasies. Each of the stories follows a member or members through a scene. A number of the stories have been posted elsewhere under my other pen name of "von Hentzau". And, now that I have your attention, may I mention that my first novel length work, "The Club on Dorado Cay", is available as an e-book from www.bdsmbooks.com. -----Aubrey Wylde

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On the morning of the day she had scheduled Caroline presented herself before the Master of Punishments. It was a formality, but for this particular scene that Caroline had arranged, as the Planners had agreed, following a procedure, an appropriate ritual, was important, necessary really if one wanted to achieve the desired effect.

So Caroline took her place before the tall judge's bench, the chamber darkened but for the lights that shown down on her and the man who would condemn her. The Master of Punishments, in his black robes, powdered wig and mask, glowered down at her from the ornate judge's bench and pronounced her doom in a booming, bass voice.

"You are sentenced to public crucifixion," he bellowed. There was a brief pause before he continued, ominously, "with additional torments to be inflicted at the discretion of the assigned Tormentor. Bailiff, take her into custody and see that the sentence is duly executed."

The Bailiff approached, seized Caroline's wrists and cuffed them behind her back. Then the Handler approached, who's job it was in such choreographed scenes to see that the subject was delivered to the appropriate venues. He placed a collar around Caroline's neck, then snapped a leash to it.

"So, Caroline," he whispered, "it begins. You remember your safe word? Though I'm sure you won't need it."

She nodded in the affirmative. She hoped she wouldn't have to scream or whimper her safe word and thus terminate the scene. She was so self-assured and certain a week ago when she'd sat sipping tea in the Planners' office, discussing the scene she had in mind. She'd become quite turned on as she discussed her fantasies and the Planners had made suggestions for playing them out. But now the time to begin the scene had arrived and she found she was nervous, much more nervous than she had expected to be.

The Handler brought Caroline down to the preparation room. There the Preparers took charge of her. She was bathed and, despite the fact that she had shaved earlier that morning, her pussy given another shave so that it was absolutely hairless. Then she was led into a small, darkened room containing only a narrow, bed. She was placed on her back, arms at sides. Straps fastened her wrists and ankles to the frame, feet apart so that her pussy was exposed. One of the Preparers adjusted a volume knob. Music, classical tunes that Caroline had selected, began to play softly. Before they left her one of the Preparers took out a small vibrator and spent a few minutes working it over her breasts and pussy. Then they left her to ponder the ordeal that awaited her. The anticipation was a vital part of the scene.

Caroline waited in the dark, trying not to think too hard about the afternoon. Every so often one of the Preparers came in with the vibrator and again applied it to her sensitive areas. But carefully, just enough that Caroline became aroused but not enough to put her over the edge. It was important, the Chief Preparer had told her, that she was in the proper physical state for the ordeal.

Lying in the dark she began to think again of those old stories of martyrs she'd heard in Catholic school and of the horrible things done to them by Roman emperors and centurions and various other assorted villains. She dwelt on those stories when she was sexually excited. Or did the stories themselves excite her? She was never quite sure which came first. And did the good Sisters have any notion of the ideas they were putting in her head?

Then it was nearly time. In the distance she heard a clock striking 12 noon. The Preparers came in again. She was led to a lavatory and allowed to relieve herself. But her wrists remained bound behind her back and two Preparers carefully made sure that nothing was allowed to release the pent up feelings that made her nipples and clit so sensitive. Done with the necessary tasks Caroline was dressed in a flimsy lace G-string. A sort of shift made of extremely fine, nearly translucent material was slipped over her. It was sleeveless. Beneath her arms it was slit down to the waist. Front and back slits came nearly to her crotch. A thin, white rope secured it around her waist. The garment clung to her form enticingly and when she walked would give quick, tantalizing glimpses of her pale, near naked form.

A collar was strapped around her neck, cuffs around her wrists, which were then fastened together behind her back. A leash was snapped to the collar and she was presented to the Handler.

The Handler then led her through the lower level corridors of the Villa and out through the slave entrance. The tumbril was waiting there. It was a two wheeled horse cart. But there was no horse. In it place four ponies-for-a-day stood, two male and two female. Each was naked save for leather harness and bridle. Each sported a suitable ponytail mounted on a butt plug. Caroline noticed one of the "stallions" was fully and she suspected a bit painfully erect. She wished she could see what it would look like if he were put into a trot. Well, maybe another time, she thought. She would have to look out for him on future visits to the Villa as a spectator.

The sides of the cart had been removed and replaced by two tall poles, one on either side just behind the axle. The Handler and the driver helped Caroline up onto the tumbril. They turned her around, so that she was facing the rear. The cuffs around her wrists were unhooked from each other and, the Handler taking one and the driver the other, her arms were raised and the cuffs hooked high up the poles. Then her legs were spread and the ankle cuffs likewise fastened at the bottoms of the poles. The Handler whispered a warning to her to grasp the chains between cuff and pole to save her wrists.

The handler signaled the driver, who whistled and snapped his signal whip against the four bare bottoms, each in turn.. The ponies tightened their grips on the center pole and began to walk slowly, pulling the tumbril over the uneven cobblestones. One of the reasons the Villa employed the antique vehicle for showier events was the rough ride. With each jerk and bounce Caroline's body was jostled, her sensitive breasts joggling in a most appealing manner behind the thin fabric that barely concealed them. But the bobbling was also most uncomfortable. A small crowd of members and guests quickly gathered and followed the tumbril's progress as it turned onto the gravel path to the Villa's Renaissance village, the first stop on her progress to the picnic grounds where Caroline's crucifixion would be enacted.

It was not a long ride to the village, along a winding gravel cart track. But the gravel made a rough ride on the unsprung cart. Caroline was glad for the sake of her breasts when they turned in through the gate and came to a stop before the public punishment platform in the center of the village square. But relief, temporarily, for one part of her body only meant other parts were about to be abused. The Master of Punishments had ordered a preliminary torment before the main event.

On a fine weekend mid-day such as this the village was quite busy. Weekends always brought out a good showing of members, both those with planned activities and those playing out ad hoc personal scenes, and those who just wanted to spend the day watching the goings on and having a pleasant lunch and a beverage or two and generally marveling at the sexual creativity of their fellows. The village was a good place for this, since it not only had several food and drink facilities but the variety of implements and props found around the village square ensured that there was seldom a lack of entertainment, between arranged scenes, such as Caroline's and couples or small groups taking advantage of the amenities to play out their private scenes in a public venue. A streak of exhibitionism was found among many of the members of the Villa.

The driver turned the cart so that Caroline was facing the platform. He'd also positioned it far enough away that Caroline would have to walk through the crowd to get to it. And the crowd was already crowding in around the cart, the driver having to loudly order them to leave a clear avenue between cart and platform repeatedly.

The Handler and the driver unfastened Caroline's wrists and ankles and helped her from the cart. Again the wrist cuffs were snapped together behind her back, the leash snapped to her collar. The Handler led her up the steps of the punishment platform, the way lined by a still growing crowd of onlookers. Caroline's ears caught comments from the onlookers.

"What a perfect ass."

"Absolutely whippable."

"Wouldn't you love to take a few strokes at those cheeks."

"Such delightful breasts. What's she scheduled for? I hope they won't ignore those lovely boobies."

The selected Tormentors now stood waiting before the whipping post that occupied one corner of the punishment platform. Leading Caroline up to them the Handler turned the leash over to the Chief Tormentor. He also produced a small parchment from his belt pouch and handed it to the Chief Tormentor. His duty complete he stepped back to join the crowd and enjoy the show. He had nearly 45 minutes before his next scheduled duty.

The Chief Tormentor, identifiable by the small, coiled silver whip hung at his belt, a symbol of office rather than actual tool, she guessed was a member of the Villa staff. His Assistant, a woman dressed in tight leather pants that left little to the imagination and a black jog bra, was probably a member of the Villa, recruited to assist in Caroline's torment. There was never a lack of volunteers to play out a scene such as this. If she'd been a member of the staff she would undoubtedly have a matching leather bra, or perhaps spiked pasties or some similarly exotic attire.

The Chief Tormentor handed Caroline's leash to his assistant. He unfolded the parchment and scanned it quickly. Then he turned to the crowd and assumed a suitably magisterial posture, such as the Pontius Pilate or the Sheriff of Nottingham might have assumed when addressing a crowd.

"The miscreant you see before you," he said in a booming voice, "one Caroline by name, has been duly sentenced to be taken to the execution grounds, also known to you newcomers as the picnic grounds, there to be crucified. Moreover, the Master of Punishments has decreed, so that she might more fully suffer the pain and humiliation of her fate, that before being taken forth for crucifixion she shall be given a good and proper scourging."

There was a cheer from the crowd. There would be a good spectacle today.

The assistant undid the rope belt around Caroline's waist. Standing behind her she grasped the cloth at the shoulders of the shift and pulled it up and over Caroline's head in a fluid motion. There were appreciative murmurs from the crowd as Caroline stood before them in only the filmy G-string.

The Chief Tormentor and his assistant walked Caroline to the whipping post. He had Caroline stand facing the post, then nudged her forward until her belly was against the polished wood. He unsnapped the leash while his assistant unfastened her wrists, brought her arms around to her front, raised them and hooked the cuffs to a rope dangling from the top of the post. Then the assistant knelt and fastened Caroline's ankle cuffs to a rings set in the base of the post. She stood and began turning a small winch fastened to the opposite side of the post.

Caroline felt the slack come out of the rope attached to her wrists. Slowly her arms were stretched upwards until she was standing on the balls of her feet, belly pressed against the post. Just when she thought they intended to take her all the way off the ground the Chief Tormentor signaled enough.

Caroline felt his hand stroking her buttocks. Then a mild slap to each followed by alternating, increasingly hard slaps. Then the first real blow from the whip landed. The onlookers cheered as Caroline was driven harder against the post. Another followed, then another, and another in slow succession.

The post had thoughtfully been fitted with a polished wooden knob at an appropriate height. With each blow Caroline was driven against the knob, the hard protrusion caressing her mons through the thin fabric of the G-string. In spite of the pain being

inflicted on her ass Caroline felt herself becoming more and more aroused. To add to the feeling the assistant had captured her nipples between her fingers and held tightly to them as she jerked from each impact.

The Assistant had another duty besides adding torment to Caroline's nipples. She kept a careful watch on Caroline's state. It wouldn't do if Caroline came before she went to the cross. When she sensed that Caroline's arousal had advanced far enough she signaled the Chief Tormentor. The whipping stopped. Caroline's wrists and ankles were freed. With the Tormentor holding one arm and the assistant the other Caroline was led to the center of the platform. She was forced down on one knee.

She heard cries of "Make way!" sounding in the crowd and looked up to see two men carrying a rough wooden plank, nearly six feet long. They mounted the platform, ceremoniously carrying the plank around Caroline. She felt them place the bar against her shoulders. She would have to carry it to the crucifixion place.

While the two men held the bar in place the Chief Tormentor and his assistant snapped Caroline's wrist cuffs to eye bolts set in the wood. Then they took short leather straps and tied her arms to the bar at each elbow. Finished with these preparations they helped Caroline back to her feet. They left her to stand for a few minutes facing the crowd, head bowed and arms outstretched in a preview of her coming torment.

Then, leash again snapped to her collar, she was led down the steps of the punishment platform. The Chief Tormentor led the way, his assistant following with the leash. The two men followed closely behind, helping support the bar lest she slip on the steps. It wouldn't do for her to hurt herself before her crucifixion.

Again the crowd parted to form an avenue for them as they crossed from the punishment platform to the village gate. At the gate a dozen people, evenly split between men and women, waited for them in a double line. Each had a short length of quarter inch rope with a sizeable knot tied in the end. Several of the volunteers were twirling their ropes in anticipation.

As she passed between the line each person took a swing with their rope. Most aimed a blow at her butt cheeks. A few aimed for her breasts. One managed a low, sweeping stroke that caught Caroline on the mons and made her stagger backwards for a step or two.

Passing through the gate of the village the little procession turned right and continued down the gravel path. The Chief Tormentor led the way, followed by Caroline. The assistant walked to one side of and slightly behind Caroline. She had equipped herself with a riding crop which she used periodically to urge Caroline along with light slaps to her butt. The two men who had brought the plank followed along behind, and behind them most of the crowd from the village straggled along.

They hadn't gone far before they encountered someone waiting on the side of the path. It was an older man, dressed in leather, someone Caroline recognized as a regular at the villa. In fact, Caroline realized, he was one of the volunteer instructors for a class she had taken. A class in flogging and being flogged. He was holding a signal whip.

The little group stopped in front of the man. The two men following Caroline, who now seemed to have taken on official roles in her torment, stepped forward. Each grabbed an end of the crossbar. They turned Caroline until her back was to the man with the whip. Then they raised the crossbar until Caroline was up on tiptoe.

She new it was coming but it still surprised her. The first stroke, sharp and stinging, landed on the back of her right thigh. She braced herself for the next. It came quickly, on her left thigh. A third caught her across the shoulder blades. She saw the pattern and wasn't surprised, though she still gave a little yelp, when the fourth stroke cut from right to left across her buttocks.

The crossbar was lowered and Caroline was turned back to the direction of travel. The main players took their places and the procession continued. But not for long. They'd only gone a hundred yards or so before they met someone else waiting with a whip. Or rather, a cat o'nine tails.

Caroline expected a repeat of the previous handling but instead, after her escorts had grabbed the ends of the crossbar, they forced her down to her knees and then forced her to bend over forwards so that her butt was sticking up.

She heard the whirring sound of the cat being swung through the air. The knotted ends raked across her buttocks from to right to left. She heard the whip winding up again. Again the tips raked across her bottom cheeks, this time from left to right. She heard the scuffling of her assailant's feet on the gravel as the woman changed her position. And then the cat was winding up a third time. This time it was brought upwards with an underhanded stroke from directly behind. Caroline jerked and cried out as the tails landed square against her butt, several of them going between her thighs to impact on the thin cloth that covered her pussy.

And then, this station completed, Caroline was raised to her feet and once more started down the path to the picnic grounds.

They were within sight of the picnic grounds when Caroline saw a third flagellator waiting by the side of the path. She had occasionally seen her at the Villa, though she didn't know the woman's name. She was one you wouldn't forget. Of medium build, with short blond hair, she always wore a mask and not much else. Her costume consisted of a sort of mail loincloth. Her breasts were contained by a bra formed of two brightly polished brass cups, like pieces of antique armor, each with a small, sharp point in the appropriate location for a nipple. The cups were suspended by thin, chrome plated chains. The first time Caroline had seen the "Woman Warrior", as she had named her privately, her first thought was "gosh, that's not something you'd want to put on first thing on a cold winter's morning."

The woman warrior was holding a leather strap, about two feet long. She was slapping it lightly against her thigh as she waited for Caroline.

This time her escorts stopped her and turned her slightly so that she was facing the woman. They took a firm hold of the crossbar, then each hooked a leg inside Caroline's legs. They spread her legs wide.

I see where this is going, Caroline thought, and she braced herself.

With a smooth, feline motion the woman warrior brought the strap up with a wide sweeping motion to the side, and then down diagonally, just the tip striking Caroline's left breast, battering it out of the way. The Woman Warrior continued the motion, swinging the strap around and up and then coming down in with a backhanded stroke against Caroline's right breast.

She repeated the motion twice more, each a little harder than the previous. Then she paused, a wicked smile showing below the mask. With her arm lowered to her side and just out slightly she began swinging the strap with a circular motion, gaining speed. The circle grew wider as the strap moved faster. Caroline was impressed with the ease and economy of motion with which the Woman Warrior handled the implement even though she feared what was about to happen.