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.
