Monday, October 4, 2010

The Power of Money

She was gorgeous, cute and with a body that reminded me of a cat. Lithe. The way she looked around the studio and the equipment without flinching, I knew she was going to be a good pain slut for us.

"It's a specialty operation," the sadist explained with a kind of bored voice. I supposed he did this every day, interviewing and eliminating girls from consideration. Or perhaps they eliminated themselves. He probably thought I was a lightweight, and would bail as soon as I saw the kink operation.

"Well, I can see that. You seem to have all custom... uh... equipment here." The dungeon we were standing in was a basement, concrete floor and brick walls, completely cleared. There were wooden stocks, metal cages, chains, leather harnesses, medical equipment, hoses, and a tank of some sort in the corner, large enough to hold a horse. The place smelled and looked clean, in spite of the dark atmosphere. I thought about it a bit, and realized this meant they probably had to clean up after sessions. In other words, sessions made a mess... body fluids and what not.

He continued to show me around, telling me about some of the various activities. My attention wandered for a moment, and I lost track of what he was saying. There, in the corner, stood a cross of some sort. It didn't look like a typical cross I was familiar with, and who knows how it was used. But... an upright beam with a cross beam, and notches for ropes and appliances of some sort or another. It was a cross. My heart beat faster. Since I was a teen, I had been fascinated with crucifixion, and had developed a sort of obsession over it.

My attention was brought back to the guy who was saying, "let's head upstairs and discuss your interest."

We headed back up the stairs to his office, which was a complete mess. I sat on the ratty couch and crossed my legs while he sat behind his desk. "OK, so you know what we do, and what we pay. You want to give it a go?"

"Sure," I said nonchalantly. I needed the money, and had done bondage gigs before. In fact, I kind of liked them, in some really strange way. "Did you need me to do any kind of audition, or like, take my clothes off or something?"

He chuckled and looked a little happy for the first time. "No, auditioning is kind of moot. Its not like the girls act here, their reactions are real, the bondage and pain is real. It is really up to me to make you squirm. And yes, you will squirm."

He said this last with a smile that gave me chills. I began to realize he really was a sadist and enjoyed his work.

"Um, one thing. I need a little more money than you mentioned. I am willing to go 24 hours, but I want double the money. I am worth it. I doubt you get many girls in here that have my looks." I knew I was right on that point. I have a pixie, kind of natural girl-next-door cuteness that guys swoon over.

He laughed. "So, you want to start at the farm, do you? Well, its not like you are a newbie. OK, I will give you 50% more for 24 hours, but at the farm. Its a place I run out in the woods, about 50 miles from here. And... you have to finish the scene or no money. You game?"

I didn't like the idea of being out in the middle of nowhere, alone with this guy and the camera crew. But... I needed the money. "75% raise and its done."

"Done," he said, and his grin looked hungry.

She showed up looking fantastic in the rag of a dress we had given her. It clung to her hard body, clearly showing the curves and muscles underneath. Her long wavey brunette hair looked perfect, and she looked healthy and ready for us. I could hardly wait to break her mind and body, seeing her struggle and writhe as I humiliated and tortured her.

Two weeks later I was hog tied with duct tape and shoved in the back of a van laying on my stomach. I was fully clothed, but gagged with dirty underwear and with a hood over my head. Breathing was difficult. My twisted position was painful, with cramps in my back and legs. The gag made me drool.

We bumped along in traffic for almost two hours, and then bumped along a rough road. The ropes dug into my wrists and ankles, and my back cramped. I made noises through my gag, grunting and keening my displeasure, but received no response.

The van stopped and the back door was opened. The cool air hit my body but didn't penetrate the hood over my head. I felt faint from the lack of air, my breathing was heavy and labored. Rough hands dragged me out of the back, and the hood was untied and removed.

The fresh air was wonderful, and for a bit I lay on the ground just breathing. The rope that tied my ankles back to my wrists was removed and I was able to stretch out, though my wrists and ankles were still bound painfully.

As I began to get some oxygen back in my system I started paying attention to my surroundings. I was laying on the ground, clothed in the dress I was told to wear for the shoot. The van was next to me, and there was a barn off to the side. Trees surrounded the clearing, and there was a light cool breeze.

I tried to speak through the gag, but all that came out was "Mpphmmml lskpppmmmp." I had to pee. Badly. The video guy that was there with the sadist was filming me mumble through the gag while the sadist was off doing something else for a bit. The dress was hiked up high from being dragged out of the van and the video guy moved around to take some shots of my ass and legs.

The sadist showed up, dragging something from the barn. I looked at it with fear in my face. I knew this because I had begun to become really afraid of what these guys were going to do. It was the best paying job I had ever had, but there was going to be a reason for it.

A wood beam, and another wood beam; a cross. The guy was dragging a huge, heavy cross made of 6x6 timber. My eyes must have turned into saucers when I saw it and I started grunting and wriggling frantically. The video guy just kept filming as the sadist heaved the cross and dropped it next to me with a loud thump that I could feel through the ground.

The duct tape was removed from my mouth, and the 1000 miles of dirty underwear reeled out. I spat and moved my tongue to get the taste out of my mouth. It didn't work. "What the fuck... are you going to crucify me? You didn't say you were going to crucify me, fuck!"

The look in her eyes was priceless when she saw the cross and finally figured out what was happening to her. I could feel the arousal deep inside me as I cut her dress off of her, revealing the fantastic body that I knew she had. Firm breasts with hard nipples, slim waist and rounded hips. Her thighs were muscular and smooth, and a shaved pussy greeted me as she moved her legs apart without thinking. Feeling her struggle underneath me was amazing.

The sadist didn't say anything. Instead he produced some incredibly huge scissors and started cutting my dress off. I rolled around in the dirt a bit, but that just seemed to help him get the fabric off. He snipped my bra and panties, and moments later I was rolling around in the dirt, stark naked. The video guy moved in for a couple of closeups of my pussy and scared face.

I started reminding myself I was being paid for this. Paid well, too. It was just a scene, and I just needed to get through the next 22 hours or so, and I would be set for at least 2 months of rent, food, clothing, books, school, everything. I kept reminding myself of this as my naked flesh was dragged across the packed earth to the cross, lifted and then laid down on the central upright beam.

The ropes tying my hands were undone, and my right arm dragged out from under me to the crossbeam which was under my head and shoulders. I struggled a bit, though I wasn't really trying to get loose. I wanted the money, and this was a job. Still, there was a feeling inside that was hard to overcome; I struggled against the sadist as he straddled me to hold me down and quickly wrapped multiple strands of rope around one wrist and then the other.

The speed with which he secured me to that crossbeam was awesome. It took seconds, and instead of struggling against him, I was yanking and pulling against the ropes. My arms were stretched out wide, and were going nowhere. Rather than damage myself from struggling prematurely, I relaxed and lay there. The cross upright dug into my back, making my position uncomfortable in a number of ways. The video guy shifted from taking shots of my face to running down my body and showing my legs spread on either side of the wood.

I lay looking up at the sky, wondering what I was getting myself into. Where was the sadist? What was going on? How long were they going to hang me from this accursed cross? Was I actually getting aroused at the thought?

Yep. My old fetish was upon me. The idea that I was finally attached to the cross and would soon be hanging from it was an amazing turn on. Unexpected, really, since I knew that it was going to hurt in ways I wasn't used to. Laid out on the cross, arms wide, I was getting off on the video guy as well. My exhibitionist tendencies were surfacing.

The sadist reappeared, untied my ankles and then tied a rope around my waist. The other end of the rope went to the back end of an SUV parked on the side of the clearing. The video guy stopped taping for a bit and helped the sadist as they turned the cross over onto its side. It was hard, since I was attached to it, but they got it positioned and slowly got me to my feet. The cross weighed heavily on my back.

This was weird. What was I doing with the cross on my back? Weren't they going to hang me up someplace? But as the video guy started taping again and the sadist went over and started the SUV, I realized I had another ordeal in front of me. "NO! Oh, fuck no! Please, don't make me carry this... "

The SUV began rolling slowly up a dirt road which ran through the trees and up a nearby hill. Seconds later the rope had become taught and I was jerked behind it. I had to walk, and quickly too, in order to keep from falling and being dragged. The damn cross was heavy. It must have weighed 50 pounds at least... and I was naked. Walking in bare feet on the dirt road was painful; rocks and sticks were digging into my flesh and the jerking of the cross on my back was leaving some nasty abrasions, I could tell.

"Fuck... oh, damn, this fucking hurts... ow! Fuck... please... " I rambled, sometimes just swearing, sometimes moaning, sometimes yelping from pain when I stepped on something sharp or the cross caught on something and I had to jerk it to get it loose. No matter what, the SUV just moved forward, insisting patiently that I keep up.

It wasn't easy for her to keep up with the car, but she did a good job. She was strong, this one, in mind and body. That cross was heavy and you could see her struggle to keep it up as we moved up the dirt track to the execution spot. Her hair hung down, covering her breasts which swayed from side to side as she walked behind the car.

The only break I got was when the sadist stopped the SUV to allow the video guy to catch up and climb in. He started taping me from the rear, focusing on my poor feet as I tried to pick my way over the sharpest rocks, and then focusing on my face, which I am sure looked like I was in quite a bit of pain. Because I was.

The cross got heavier and the road climbed higher. I was exhausted, my breath coming in pants and moans. I had long since stopped complaining, because talking just kept me from breathing. My nudity no longer got me off, my exhibitionism didn't matter. My legs were what mattered, tired and cramping as I climbed, dragging the 75 pounds of solid wood behind me.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably only about 30 minutes, the SUV pulled into a sort of meadow on the hillside. The grass was tall there, and scratched my bare legs as I came to a halt behind the parked SUV. I collapsed and panted, falling to my knees, my arms aching from the stress of having them tied apart for so long as I pulled the heavy cross. I was miserable, my legs hurt, my arms and shoulders hurt, my feet hurt, and the cross hadn't even been stuck in the ground yet.

The video guy took some nice footage of me with my arms out wide, bent over the earth trying to keep from puking.

"Please... please don't do this. I don't want to be crucified. I don't want you to hang me up here. It hurts, it fucking hurts..." I had gained my voice and had started to beg.

The sadist came over, having untied the rope from the SUV and stood over me.

"Only another few yards to go, bitch, and then you get to rest. Come on, stand and lets get going. Almost there!"

I pushed hard, lifting my body weight along with the weight of the cross, reaching a standing position. I can't remember when I had wanted to be untied more. Following the sadist up to the middle of the meadow, I dragged the cross over bumpy ground that jerked and jarred my arms and shoulders. My back felt like it was on fire from the abrasions and my stomach was still considering throwing up.

I fell on the ground when we reached the spot the sadist had in mind. As I lay there, I saw there was already a mound of earth next to a hole. They had prepared this place, ready for the cross and me. I started to cry and beg again. "Look, just give me a rest for a bit. Please don't do this... please don't hurt me any more."

The video guy was taping me all this time, getting footage of me begging. It was real, was the thing. Being dragged naked up that hill while dragging a heavy cross behind me had beaten me. I had no more will left in me. I was just begging.

"OK, bitch," the sadist said with his face right next to mine on the ground. "We can untie you and let you go right now. But if we do, you get no money. You want the money, its up on the cross you go. So, how about it? Think about the money. You decide."

I turned my head into the ground and cried out in frustration for a moment, and then faced him. With a grimace of pain and defiance, I said "Fine! I can do this, asshole. Do it."

She was beautiful, laying there waiting to be raised up and hang for me. Her fear was showing, and she had started begging. I challenged her, dangling the money carrot. She was a slut, a whore, and it was so easy.

The sadist smiled, and then left my field of vision. Moments later the video guy and the sadist had the cross and were slowly raising it up. At first, I went to my knees, and then stood, as the cross slid into the hole at an angle. Then, with a jerk and a yank, I swung up into the air as the cross upright beam levered up and the base slid down into the ground.

With a *thump* the cross descended two or three feet into the hole and my body jerked downward on my arms, wrists, and shoulders. A shock of pain rattled me and I screamed for a moment as I hung from my arms. The beam wavered back and forth, insecure in the wide hole below me. I felt I was going to fall at any moment, and I was a good 5 feet off the ground, up in the air, looking down at the sadist and the video guy filling in the hole with dirt and wedges of wood.

It took maybe 5 minutes until the cross was stable and I was hanging there without its wobbling and jerking me back and forth. The video was rolling again, and I was crying from the pain that had started on the way up the hill but was now 10 times worse as the weight of my body was placed entirely on my arms and shoulders. Cramps in my back set in, and my hands were numb.

The sadist was enjoying this, you could tell. All my weight had come to a jerking halt on my arms, and it felt like my left shoulder was dislocated. I was crying, sobbing, and could see the video camera zoom in on my face for a nice close shot of my agony.

My legs dangled free, and instinctively tried to find something to support my weight. There was nothing. I simply hung there. I finally forced them to stop kicking around because it was just making the rest of my body hurt more.

She screamed when the cross slipped into the hole. A sweet sound. I stood back and looked at her hanging before me. There is something about a beautiful woman stretched, whether on the rack or hanging from a cross or winch; their bodies elongate and show hips protruding below, breasts pert above, and ribs pronounced above their concave stomachs which move as they try to breathe. I simply enjoyed the sight for a bit.

Once I stopped kicked and was simply hanging there, the sadist produced some sort of triangular block of wood which he slid into a hole in the cross about where my feet were. It was a support for me to stand on. Problem was, the block of wood sloped down and away. It was almost impossible to get any weight on, because my feet slipped off. Struggling and straining, trying different approaches, I got one foot on and the other behind the cross beam to keep me from slipping off. That helped a lot. I was able to partly stand on one leg and support myself, taking the weight off my shoulders and wrists, and allowing blood flow back into my hands.

The video guy had taped me getting situated on the wooden stand, while the sadist had returned to the SUV to watch and enjoy my torment. After a while I realized he had his cock out of his pants and was slowly stroking himself as he watched my struggles. I don't know why, but I can't remember ever being more humiliated than I was at that moment. I knew thousands of guys had probably wanked over images of me in fetish gear before... but actually seeing someone getting off, right in front of me, as I suffered... it took something out of me. I felt like nothing but a piece of meat. Which was pretty accurate at that point, to tell the truth.

My foot kept slipping and I shifted my weight as best I could. Switching feet helped some, but no matter what, there was weight on my arms and my legs were constantly straining to hold me up. The air was cool, but the sun, which was now setting, was warm and I sweated. The sweat trickled down my face and started to itch. I couldn't get free to scratch, and it began driving me insane.

How strange that something as small as a trickle of sweat, an itch, a tiny need to scratch or wipe, would bring me almost to the breaking point. I struggled, jerking and yanking at the ropes that held my arms spread out above me. The cross rocked a little, and I slipped off the foot support, jerking my arms once again and eliciting a cry of pain. My whole body hurt. My hands were aching (though numb), my arms were stretched ragged, my shoulders and upper back cramped, and my legs strained and cramped to stay on top of that slanted foot rest.

"Ahhhhhhggggg... oh, please. God please don't torture me any more!" My head was raised and I faced the sky, screaming from rage and pain and frustration. The sadist walked over, zipping his cock back up in his pants, and observed me for a moment. He touched my body, sliding fingers over my skin, feeling me as I writhed.

"Are you sure you want that? You only have about 14 hours to go, you know and then you can get paid." His fingers were sliding over my pussy as he said this.

I pressed my lips together, refusing to say a word, but felt the trickle of tears as they descended my cheeks.

Seeing her suffer up there was amazing. Her body writhed, trying to find a position that would hurt a little less. Her breasts were perfect, drawn up pertly by her raised arms. When she became too exhausted she leaned forward, letting her hair and breasts hang forward, her head down. The constant cries of frustration, pain and grunts of effort as she struggled to remain upright, were glorious.

It was really quite a nice location they had selected for my mock execution. The meadow was on a hill that overlooked a beautiful valley. Trees covered the area, and the rolling hills in the distance took on a purplish look as the sun descended below the horizon. I looked at the beauty surrounding me, and it contrasted with the misery that was screaming around inside my body.

The engine on the SUV started up. The sadist and video guy were climbing in. They were leaving me alone. It pulled back and then turned and slowly headed down the dirt track up which I had dragged the cross. I screamed at them once as the car disappeared, and then I was alone.

My legs gave out, and I hung from my outstretched arms for a while, my head sagging, eyes closed. It felt almost peaceful, and the pain in most of my body left as I relaxed. It was only the tendons, bones and muscles of my arms and hands that were screaming out in agony. After a while, I could not ignore them any more and pressed back down with one foot on the narrow foothold. Lifting up, I could feel the relief in my arms, but sweat had trickled down my legs and made my feet slippery. As my foot slid off the support, I jerked back down and yanked my arms once again. I screamed, and the empty air in the meadow seemed to absorb the scream and cast it aside as if it had no meaning.

It was dark; the moon had not risen. There were some lights scattered in the valley in front of me. I imagined homes where people were sitting down to watch TV, children being put to bed, and eventually the adults making love and then falling asleep in each others arms. All this while I hung on a wooden cross above them, dangling and struggling, in horrible pain that slowly increased as my body lost strength and my mind lost tolerance.

I smelled urine. It was a strong smell, and I realized it came from me. The inside of my legs must be covered in it. In fact, I felt the rumblings of a bowel movement inside my intestines. I yelled out for help, asking that anyone that could hear me would come and help. It was no use. I was in a beautiful and isolated area. I began to believe that I might die here.

Diarrhea struck me all at once. The pressure built and then pushed out as my bowels let loose in a massive mix of feces, liquid and gas. The smell was sickening, and the feces covered the back of my legs and trickled down slowly. I had lost both bladder and bowel control now, I knew my body was really suffering up here.

Once again, I let my feet slip off the tilted support and simply hung by my arms. The pain had increased, but there was little I could do. I could no longer support myself.

A wolf came by sometime late that night. It sniffed around, and even tried to nip a bit. I was too high up for it, though it came close. Later, I heard howling.

The SUV came bumping back up the hill sometime later. It's headlights shown in the darkness from quite some ways. When it arrived the headlights covered the whole clearing, including me up on the wooden horror that held me.

I would have screamed at the sadist as he climbed out of the vehicle, but my voice had cracked and basically I could only manage a hoarse whisper. There was something wrong with me, I could tell. It wasn't just the strain from hanging from the cross, it was something worse. The sadist headed over to me with a ladder which he propped against the cross. The video guy was taping of course, the whole exchange.

The sadist got up to my head and took out a bottle. Water. Oh, I suddenly realized what I needed, what was wrong with me. I was dehydrated from no water and the diarrhea. He held the bottle to my mouth and I began gulping, the water flooding my mouth and splashing over my neck, breasts and stomach. I drank the whole bottle, and began to feel a little better. Better enough to begin concentrating on the pain in my back and the lack of feeling in my hands. I couldn't move my fingers.

Giving her water to rehydrate her allowed me to get close to her suffering. Seeing her face close up as she struggled with her situation, the pain, the desire, the fear, the hopelessness that had set in-- it gave me an erection immediately. She was so lovely in her agony.

"Six more hours dear," the sadist said quietly. He actually nuzzled my neck, kissing me slightly, as he spoke. "You can quit now, but all that pain, all that agony, will be for nothing. Keep going, six more hours... that's all..."

I didn't say anything, just hung for a while before struggling up and then falling back down. I let out a loud moan as the weight ripped my shoulders once again.

"Let's give you a little more support, shall we?" The sadist said, and I looked at him with a mixture of hope and fear. I had no idea what he was going to do to me. He wasn't in the business of making girls more comfortable.

The video kept going as he trudged to the SUV and got out some sort of wooden board. He came back to the cross, climbed one rung of the ladder and then said "lift yourself up a bit. I am going to give you a seat to carry some of your weight."

I pushed, raising myself up a bit. The sadist took the short board and slipped it between my legs, pushing it up snugly against my pussy. It fit in another notch of the cross, and he pounded in an additional nail to help keep it in place. He climbed down and removed the ladder. The video guy zoomed in as I lowered my weight onto the 2x4 that stuck out from the cross about a foot.

Thing was, the 2x4 was positioned vertically, the thin side pushing up into my pussy. It hurt. Not as bad as my arms and wrists and back (I don't think anything could have hurt more at that point), but the edges were sharp and dug into my soft flesh. Nevertheless I sat down on it, and breathed a huge sigh.

It didn't take long for me to realize the sedile he had provided was basically adding a wooden pony ride to my crucifixion. After that long on the cross, I was happy for it. It hurt, and after a while, it ached and hurt a lot. But it was at least a choice. It relieved the weight on my shoulders and back, and the cramping subsided some. I could alternate the pain, moving it back and forth, choosing which part of my body would bear the agony at any given time.

The sunrise was beautiful. It flooded from behind me, lighting up the whole meadow and valley below. The hills were green, and a slight breeze pushed past my sweaty flesh and helped dry it.

"How.. much... longer..." I croaked.

"2 hours, dear," the sadist had his cock out again, and the video guy was going to town examining every aspect of my stretched and agonized body. He zoomed in on my ass cheeks where they split on each side of the cross upright beam, on my pussy where it pressed and split on the wood board, on my breasts that wobbled and heaved as I breathed with difficulty, on my face and the stains of hours of tears, on my straggled hair, on my purple hands that appeared to be in a permanently curled, claw like shape.

The beauty of the morning meant little to me, hanging from the cross. It had been something like 21 hours since I had been tied to it. Memory of what my life was like before had slipped away. It seemed like I was there simply waiting to die, and that in a couple of hours my death would come and relieve me of the pain. My entire body shook, none of the muscles worked. I simply waited, waited for something to happen.

It finally did. The two of them carefully climbed up and untied me. When the ropes gave way, I screamed once again. My arms had been in a raised position for so long that all the muscles cramped as they moved down. Returning blood flow created pain in places that had long since gone numb. Laying stretched out on the ground, I vomited, getting it over me, though all I had to vomit was the water I had received a few hours earlier.

I would have loved to leave her there for another day, two days, three... whatever it took until her body gave out and she succumbed. But then, she really was beautiful and there was money to be made. She would be back, I could tell. Anyone that suffered this much for the money... she would be back.

I lay sobbing on the ground as several buckets of water were thrown over me, washing off the vomit, the feces and urine that covered my body. I was then picked up off the ground, unable to walk, and thrown into the back of the SUV. The trip down the hillside was bumpy, but I hardly noticed. My whole body was wracked in pain from blood which was now flowing back into numb spots, and muscles learning to settle back into place.

They helped me walk into the barn, where they sat me on a wooden chair and gave me a bottle of water and a granola bar. When I was ready for the ride back, the video guy got his camera again, and started taping as the sadist hogtied me.

"What are you doing?" I croaked.

"You have an hour left, babe. We are driving back, but you get to ride in the back, bound and gagged like the pain slut you are," he was pulling my legs back and tying them to my wrists so I was bent backward. "An hour left. When we get back to the studio, you get paid for the whore you are."

I opened my mouth to protest, but instead of sound, my mouth was filled with dirty rags. Duct tape quickly secured them inside and all I could do was moan as they picked me up and threw me in the back of the van.

When I was finally released and paid, they counted cash out for me. Hundreds. 80 of them. My day hanging in agony in the middle of the forest was still with me, but I could feel it fading. The stack of 80 bills in my hand felt thick, and I knew I was set for the next two or three months. It felt good.

As I slowly walked to my car, the sadist came with me, and as I slid gingerly into the driver's seat, he leaned down and said, "So babe... you did good. You want to come back for another scene sometime, when you get low on money? We can think of something unique and fun for you."

I looked at him with a steel face, about ready to curse and damn him to hell. Instead, I surprised myself and said, "Yeah. Maybe. But I want more money."

The sadist laughed, straightened up and said, "You'll be back. We will arrange something."