The Novice

He wanted to join The Club. Heaven knows how he found out about our rather kinky activities, but he had, and he wanted in. His qualifications were weak, to say the least. Lots and lots of fantasies, very little reality. He wanted to become initiated and participate as an active member.

I knew the kind. He had experienced some light bondage, usually while getting fucked by a girlfriend. He dreamed of more intense scenes, but had never experienced anything greater than a fuck while spread eagled in ropes. And of course, he dreamed that anything involving nude women would be pleasurable for him.

But, Steve and Sean wanted to let him in. I was against it, I felt he could not be trusted and would not contribute to our group, which was very tight, and very intimate. Without my vote, he was out.

I decided to see how dedicated he was, and how far he would go to fulfill his fantasies.

The deal was - we would both be crucified. That alone made his eyes go a little funny - he was just getting a taste of how extreme our group could be. The one that asked to be brought down first would then act as slave to the other, from that moment on, for a period of 7 days with the usual limits.

He didn't know what the usual limits were, and didn't ask, which showed just how naive he was.

I am 5'6" with long black hair, slim body and nice breasts. My skin is fair and contrasts nicely with the dark hair. Some have called me goth, which is a little unfair as I wear black only about 80% of the time and don't have any tattoos. Guys seem to like me though. Girls too, actually.

It was clear that he liked my looks and the idea of being on a cross with me was giving him a hard-on as we sat there discussing it.

The day was set, the rules explained. We were to present ourselves at the theater for "processing" early in the morning, and would then be taken to an undisclosed location. Crucifixion would take place out of doors, in a location where the entire group would gather and observe.

He was smiling when he left, because down deep he thought he would outlast me and then have me as his toy for 7 days. I smiled when he left because I had been crucified once and knew I could outlast him, and was going to enjoy teaching him a lesson. It had been a while since I had played with a dedicated slave toy.

The day arrived. A Saturday, early morning. The stars were disappearing and giving way to the glow of dawn. It was going to be a fine day, though I knew that the direct sunlight would be hot, very hot. I had Sean drive me to the theater, as I knew that I might not be able to drive myself home. I felt a chill run through my spine when I thought about voluntarily walking into this situation, and the possible consequences. It was a chill of anticipation, eagerness, curiosity, and just a bit of fear that made all the rest of the emotions even more exciting.

He was already there, his car parked in the lot with a number of others. Many of the group had risen early to observe the preprocessing. All the better. I loved an audience, being a confirmed exhibitionist. The more humiliating the ordeal, the more I got off on people watching me.

The stage was bright, there was some noise from the observers in the audience. I walked on stage and presented myself to the executioner, so-called because he was in charge of the entire process. The novice was there as well, standing nervously. I was wearing a light cotton dress that was thin and clung to my body in interesting places, but no makeup (which would just make things more miserable once I was hanging from the tree). I was braless, which was pretty clear through the sheer material. He saw me, and I could almost see his erection pop up.

The executioner went over a few rules, and the ritual began.

We knelt, and each kissed a rope hanging from the theater catwalks above the stage. The rope was then looped over my wrists several times, crossed and knotted. It was tight, and I could feel that wriggling was not going to accomplish anything. I waited as the novice was also tied.

At the executioner's signal, the ropes began lifting up, pulling my arms up in front of me, and then lifting up over my head. The slow rise continued, stretching my arms above me, and I felt the strain on my joints as my weight was slowly lifted up and off the ground. I felt the pressure of my weight pulling on shoulder and elbow joints as my feet lifted off the stage. My arms pressed together and pushed my head forward, my hair hanging down in front of me. A slight cramping set in to my sides from the muscles pulled out of shape as I swung slightly back and forth, my pointed feet a few inches from the floor.

With a quick, expert motion the executioner cut my dress up the center and then across the shoulders. It fell from my body to a heap on the floor. A quick rip and my panties were torn off, and I was hanging naked before the audience. Most had seen me naked before, some many times and up close, but there was still a murmur of appreciation that thrilled me.

I heard the ripping of material and a moan of displeasure and wriggled a little to see the executioner cutting the jeans off of the novice. He had not realized that his clothes were forfeit during the procedure and had worn heavy denim, a big mistake. When the last of his clothes were removed, we were both turned to face each other, and our legs were tied down to a weight on the floor to keep us from swinging around too much.

His erection had once again swelled as soon as he saw me hanging naked. This was a dream fulfilled for him, so far. The discomfort of the suspension was well within his liking, and having me dangling naked before him was a bonus. His cock was large, and rock hard. We hung together, observing each others naked bodies as the audience observed us.

Two assistants arrived on stage, each with a 9-tailed flogger made of leather.

The first stroke hit me without warning, stinging across my ass like the tendrils of a jellyfish. I yelped, and wriggled a little as I hung. At the same time, the novice took a stroke. I was able to recover from the sharp pain long enough to observe his stretched body, concave stomach and protruding chest, just as the strips of leather wrapped around him. He jerked, gritted his teeth and looked at me.

My breasts exploded in pain as the flogger wrapped around my right side and kissed my nipples with a snap.

"Aaghh... agghhhh... oooaaahhhhggg..." I had begun a rhythmic grunting complaint with each stroke of the flogger. I couldn't help it. You may feel brave but your body has different ideas when it starts to feel like the skin is being peeled from you inch by inch.

I could see the novice through my tears, and observed his flogging was thorough, moving up and down his body leaving bright red welts. I could see my breasts, and they were an angry red in stripes. I noticed with the oddest feeling that they jiggled each time the flogger cut in to my skin again.

A scream was issued by the novice after a particularly deep stroke. He no longer had an erection. I was just trying to deal with my own pain now, with no energy to gloat. My flesh was on fire, my breathing was raspy, and I was jerking involuntarily, even when the flogger was not burning lines in to my skin.

Finally, just when I began wondering whether my shoulders would be dislocating before I was even tied to the cross, the flogging was over. I hung motionless, staring at the floor, watching the drool from my partially opened mouth drip and gather just below my feet. When they lowered me, I collapsed in a heap on the floor, just resting and hoping my arms would recover from the suspension quickly.

The assistant came to me and rolled me over to my stomach. My wrists were untied and then forced behind my back. I actually screamed at that point with the pain from my shoulders which had not completely settled back in place. My wrists were tied behind my back, firmly, and the remaining rope was looped around my neck to pull my tied wrists higher up. I grunted from the pain and strain of the position.

Strong hands lifted me by my shoulders, and dragged me over to where the novice lay on the floor. He was similarly tied, but was laying on his back. To my surprise, the executioner lay me on top of the novice, stomach to stomach, face to face, hip to hip. I started to make sounds of protest, but was slapped hard.

Next thing I knew my ankles were being tied to the novice's ankles. Tightly. Then my knees were tied to his. Our legs were firmly attached.

Lastly, a strap or belt was wrapped around our waists and cinched tight. It pushed the air out of me with a whoosh, and I felt pain from my intestines being pressed out of place.

Being tied to this guy, naked, still stinging from the flogging, was about as humiliating as I could imagine. The audience loved it, and clapped as our legs flailed together and we struggled against each other. It seemed as if there were some sort of poetic dance between the two condemned prisoners.

I was getting wet, this was such a hot scene.

We were lifted on to a cart and rolled off the stage. Down a ramp and to a waiting van. Lifted as one, the novice and I were deposited in the rough bare floor of the van, and the doors were closed heavily behind us. We were on our way to the execution site.

As we bounced in the back of the van, I became aware of how every part of my naked body was pressed against his nakedness. We had been forced together in this way, and his body didn't feel great. My hips were pressing against his, my breasts against his chest. Our faces stared at each other from inches away. And of course... his... erection was pressing between my thighs. Damn.

We rolled to our sides to get more comfortable. When we did, his cock slid against the slit of my pussy. It was electric, the residual pain from the flogging, the tight bondage to his hard male body, and his cock sliding against my wetness. Moments later I felt his cock pressing in to me slightly.

Because our legs were tied together, we could spread them, and did. My legs could not go around his waist, and it was very difficult for him to thrust as we were bound together. But his cock slid in enough to make me groan and spread our legs a little further, urging him to enter me as best he could.

When he was inside me several inches, we found a rhythm and technique of rotating our hips in unison that allowed him to penetrate and slide in and out. It felt amazing, fucking amazing, the way we were bound in the back of the van, tied together, fucking one another. Knowing, all the while, that we were to be crucified very soon, and one of us would submit to the other as a result.

I came, and cried out as the muscles in my body strained against him and against the flood of pleasure. With a final heaving thrust, he jerked and spurted his load inside me, grunting as he did.

When it was over, we simply lay there. He kissed me, and I kissed him back. Whatever happened, it had been a good fuck, a lot of fun. He might not be so bad a novice after all.

The van stopped. We were in the country, in a clearing surrounded by trees at the end of a dirt road. As the van doors opened we could hear other cars arriving, parking and the other club members getting out and chatting excitedly. The Club had not had a crucifixion in... well, not since I had first joined. That day was still talked about between the members.

The novice and I were dragged out of the van and separated. I could feel his juice trickling down my inner thigh, and I wondered if anyone could see it. It didn't matter, because once I was hanging on the cross my legs would be spread and it would be clear. I wondered if I cared.

I was left laying on the ground as the novice was dragged a ways away. I head him moaning, and the executioner and others grunting. I was fact down in the dirt, and didn't look over. I just relaxed and breathed, preparing my mind for what was to come.

After some time, I heard a thunk and a sudden scream and cry from the novice. His cross had been sunk in to its hole and he was hanging from it. My turn would be at any moment.

My turn... dragged over the dirt, people on both sides looking and chatting excitedly as the spectacle. The cross laying on the ground. My cross. It looked funny, a little wrong somehow. I couldn't think how.

My hands untied, and then flipped over on to my back. Dragged up and positioned on the cross with my arms outstretched, it felt like I was already hanging and having my joints stretched to their limit. As my back pressed against the upright of the cross and my hands were pressed back and tied to the patibulum, I realized what was different about this cross. The patibulum was attached to the back of the upright. The upright was a good 6 inches deep, at least. This meant my arms were to be bent back behind me, and the upright was to press my body out at an odd angle.

I was moaning already, the pain of being stretched beginning, and I hadn't even been raised up. My chest was stretched out, spread out with my breasts jutting out obscenely. My legs were bent and raised in to the traditional position designed to create the horrible dance for breath of the cross. My ankles were tied together, but not tied to the cross. Strange.

The cross was lifted up. I remembered the sensation from my first crucifixion. It was the most arousingly helpless feeling - the ultimate in humiliation and pain, to be raised up in front of the crowed. My body slid down the cross as the angle went higher and steeper, the strain beginning in my arms as they stretched out. The cross was high, and as I went up in the air like an obscene decoration, I saw I was facing the novice.

With a sudden jerk, the cross slid down three feet or so, jerking and almost ripping my arm joints apart. I screamed from the pain, and tried to find something to help lift me up and relieve the pressure on my arms. I found the platform for my feet - I knew there had to be one. But it was tilted downward at a steep angle.

I cried out in frustration and pain, pressing up on the angled platform that was barely large enough for one foot. I managed to get my weight supported somewhat and remained as motionless as I could.

The novice was in a similar position. Hanging there, his body looked good; he was strong, muscular, and had a nice shape when his body was stretched and distended. His cock was erect again, and in spite of myself, I felt a warmth and wetness in my pussy. I remembered having him inside me just an hour before.

The memory faded as my breathing became labored and I pushed up harder to try and support myself. This was the dance that everyone had come to see. My struggles to breathe, my pain as I sagged down, my nakedness as I was displayed for all to admire. I did manage to rise up, but then...

"Oh, Fuuuuuuuccckkkkk aaaaaghhhhhh... ohmygod..., " my foot slipped on the angled platform and my arms jerked my falling body to stop. I screamed, the agony of my shoulders suddenly spreading across my chest.

While my legs were tied at the ankles, my knees spread wide, exposing my pussy to all.

The pain in my back was worse than I remember it. The pain in my chest was worse than I remembered it. I thought it must be the extra distention of my wrists being pulled slightly behind me from the positioning of the patibulum. It was humiliating as well, for my chest and breasts were jutting out unnaturally.

As I moaned and grunted with effort to raise myself again, I became aware of club members gathering around the foot of the cross. They were observing me carefully, and commenting on the strain in my muscles, speculating where the greatest pain was.

One of the men looked at my thigh as I sank back down, and said "look - she is horny as fuck. She is wet, so wet she is dripping."

He pointed to my cunt.

"No... that is sweat. Look at how she is sweating, its hot out today and the pain has got to be making it worse."

They discussed my situation in such cold, callous terms. Of course they did, they were enjoying my pain. That was the point.

One man reached over and wiped his finger on my thigh. "This is sperm. Cum. She fucked him. She fucked the other one on the way over and it is leaking out."

Disbelief at first and then laughter. A woman slid her finger on my inner thigh and then across my pussy. She slid her finger in to her mouth and sucked for a moment. "Yep, you are right. That is cum all right."

I lifted myself up again, pushing carefully, trying not to slip. The effort made my legs cramp horribly, and I cried out in tears. Jerking at the ropes around my wrists didn't help at all, but I did anyway.

The sun was beating down hard, it was mid day now, and I knew I was dehydrating from all the sweat.

Without warning, a stream of urine flowed from between my legs. It hadn't been a choice. This was not a good sign, I was losing control of body functions. The pain was getting severe, the agony spread across my entire arms, shoulders, chest and upper back. Breathing was getting really difficult. My legs were getting weaker.

I refocused on the novice. Was he doing any better than I? It was hard to tell. He didn't have an erection any more, thank goodness. But he was still doing the dance, lifting himself up to take great gulps of air and then when his legs tired, sliding back down and hanging by his wrists. I wanted to enjoy seeing him suffer more, but I had my own suffering to worry about. It was all I could think about. Pain, pounding through my body.

I started sobbing, tears ran down my face. The sun had risen in the sky and it was getting really hot; sweat was tricking down my body in the most uncomfortable tracks, tickling and itching as it went. My light skin was sunburning. My breathing was getting more labored. Lifting myself up on the slanted foot platform was necessary, but risky. My feet were wet and slick from the sweat, and I slipped, which caused my body to jerk down on my arms.

What was going on in front of me? One of the girls was in front of the novice... she was doing something... oh my god she had her hand around his cock and was masturbating him! His hips were rocking, thrusting slightly, and he was moaning. The pain of his cross was mixing with the pleasure of his hand job.

It wasn't fucking fair. He was getting some relief, he was getting sexual stimulation, and I was just hanging there. I screamed out in frustration.

A guy from the club approached with a small stepladder. I had sunk down, hanging with my arms raised up over my head and pulled behind me, my head hanging down, long hair sticking to my sweating flesh. The guy positioned the ladder in front of me, and climbed up it until his face was even with mine. I looked at him with agony as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard cock. He positioned between my spread legs, and with one quick thrust entered my pussy.

His thrusting motion was a mixture of pain and pleasure. I was getting fucked, really nicely fucked, out in the open with about 25 people looking on. My exhibitionist nature was getting off on it, big time. At the same time his thrusts jerked my body and caused my already stretched muscles to cramp and stretch even more. I was moaning, groaning, and finally screaming with pain and pleasure as he came in side me.

He kissed my lips, caressed my wet breasts, and then climbed down. There would be no more distractions today, it was just me and the pain.

I would win this. I had to win this.

My body was shaking uncontrollably. My legs were weak. Unable to lift myself. My lungs rasped as I gasped for air. The crowd of club members was gathered around me, watching my suffering.

God, I loved this. I loved suffering in the presence of others, who watched me as I suffered.

The sun had traveled across the sky. It was late afternoon. The pain had moved across my body. The original pain points of shoulders and back were now numb, and the cramping was throughout the entire rest of my body.