MARY ON THE CROSS by Elf Bride

Feature Writer: Elf Bride

Feature Title: Mary On The Cross

Published: the www.cruxforums.com edition / 2015

Author/Translator Notes: This wonderful story I found once on literotica.com. There she is now removed. The author has deleted her profile there. I know nothing about her. Just that she has written this beautiful story. The author’s name (nom-de-plume) seems to be Elf Bride — any further information would be welcomed.

Translated from the German: Eulalia – Poet Laureate

Mary On The Cross

We were on our graduation trip, and as not even a graduation trip could be made a pleasure for students just about to leave school, we were still being overfed with historical information. Today we stood looking at old walls. The data being transferred into our poor overworked brains was audible in the form of annual statistics and enumerations of all possible wars in a given place and period, and visually in the form of bored contemplation of collections of old stones in the various areas of our beautiful country, in other words, we traipsed from one ruin to another. Some were badly decayed, others almost new – castles, for example, or the monastery where we were based for three days to explore the historic environment.

At least I’d been assigned to a rather quiet group of girls. I didn’t think much of drinking alcohol all night long or smoking joints secretly. My group was rather quiet and keen on sport. It could be very cosy in our bedroom, there were six of us housed in the spacious room. The abbot personally showed us to our accommodation.

“Here’s where you’ll be sleeping,” he said with an unctuous voice, “You’ll wake up rested and refreshed and eager to hike around all the castles and palaces, young ladies.”

The Man of God drew our attention to a special feature of our dormitory. On the side with the window there was a kind of large alcove — you couldn’t see it from the entrance door, a small, secret room, so to speak. We couldn’t use it though, it was occupied by a large wooden cross, the thing was standing in a kind of support frame that looked like an overgrown Christmas tree stand so that it couldn’t tip over. A pair of stools stood nearby.

Some folded blankets were piled beside it, with some coiled ropes. The abbot told us that the cross had been freshly restored, they had sanded and freshly stained it and it was here to dry. I’d noticed a slight whiff of fresh paint. The plaster-of-Paris body, we learnt, was still in the workshop.

“We haven’t got round to setting up the cross in the chapel yet, although it’s dry,” said the abbot, “We’ll have to fix it up to the ceiling and secure it with the ropes,” he smiled, “We don’t want such a valuable piece to get dents and scratches straight away, while it’s being transported. Well, I’ll leave you alone now, we’ll see you at dinner.”

The hooded gentleman hurried away.

The six of us girls put our bags in the lockers and went to take a shower, then we lounged around the room. For this afternoon, no visit was programmed, and we were glad of that, gradually history was beginning to bug us – bloody ruins … Sophie stood with Maria and Daniela in the niche and looked at the large wooden cross. They were speculating about how the monks could have got the clumsy thing through the door of the room.

“It’s way too big,” she reckoned.

“If they manoeuvred it around, it would have fitted,” Daniela said, “After all, they’ve got it into here, it fits this space.”

We three other girls went and looked at the Cross. It was a monstrous thing, made of oak. The wood was stained dark. Near the outside ends of the cross-beam, and above the foot-support were holes in wood.

“That’s where the retaining screws come through, to hold the body of Christ on the wood,” Sophie said, “This cross is so big, it must be a life-size figure.”

She moved one of the stools in front of the cross and stood up on it. She was wearing a saffron-colored T-shirt and blue jeans and was barefoot. On the stool, she turned with her back to the cross and spread out her arms.

“See? My wrists reach the holes in the transom exactly, and my feet are just on the footrest.”

Daniela brought a chair over and looked around.

”Hey girls! We’ll get Sophie fixed! We’ll test her theory.”

She picked up one of the ropes of the blanket pile, put the chair below the crossbar, under Sophie’s left hand, and stepped up quickly. Eagerly we followed her instructions. Another chair was quickly brought across and I climbed up on it. Janina handed me a rope, it was a meter or so long.

“First thread the rope through the hole in the bar,” ordered Daniela.

I stuffed the cord through the generous hole.

“Then make knots behind the bar and in front, over the hole!”

Daniela seemed to know all about it.

“Make them so that the two loose ends are equal.”

I did what she said.

“Now we’ll have to make knots on your wrists,” Daniela said to Sophie.

She cooperated without protest. On Daniela’s instructions, I made loops with the rope around Sophie’s delicate wrist, Dani did the same, and finally, we tied knots. Now our friend was suspended by her wrists, we had tied her up with arms outstretched on the patibulum of the cross. We climbed off our chairs and looked at our handiwork.

“My feet too, otherwise I won’t have any support on the cross,” demanded Sophie.

My heart was beating, she wanted it! And how! I felt it clearly, Sophie wanted to be tied up. I was excited like never before, my classmate wanted to be bound up by us.

Was she like me? How often had I been thinking about being tied up? Again and again, I’d imagined the wildest bondage. The idea of a crucifixion was one I hadn’t come up with before, but I was finding it exciting and interesting. I got another piece of rope.

Sophie’s naked feet stood side by side on the stool –exactly corresponding to the oblique footrest, which was attached to the upright. I saw the holes for the foot-screws in the support but, because I couldn’t pull the cord through those, I decided to attach her feet differently. I put the rope three times around her delicate ankles. Then I pulled it between her ankles and tugged it tight, so she couldn’t pull either foot out of this bondage under any circumstances. Behind her ankles, I made a tight knot.

“Lift your feet onto the support,” I commanded.

Sophie immediately obeyed, she was going along with the business completely. I put the ends loose ends of the rope to the right and left of the upright, brought them together behind the plank, and knotted them there. Now the feet of my classmate were firmly fixed to the cross, no way could Sophie get free.

Maria took the stool away. Now Sophie was hanging, tied on the cross. I looked at her. My heart was pounding. How I wished I could have been in her place. But watching how she was hanging crucified before me was a beautiful experience. Sophie relaxed, laughing, on the cross.

”I’m a vacation stand-in for Christ!”

“Sure,” said Janina with a laugh, “On Sunday at the early morning Mass we’ll tie you to the cross and you’ll have to remain there all the time!”

I saw clearly that for Sophie this prospect was by no means unpleasant.

Maria was standing before the crucified girl, gazing up at her wide-eyed. I looked more closely — Maria, too, was excited, I saw that then, cute, petite Maria looking longingly at Sophie. You’d give anything to be in Sophie’s place, I thought silently, just see how you’re gazing at her! That gleam in your eyes! You’re like me. We’re both like Sophie. Do all girls long to be tied up? What a thought!

The other girls were laughing and acting a bit blasphemously. They were pulling on the bound Sophie and loudly inventing silly stories about the helpless crucified victim. Sophie was laughing too, she was enjoying her performance.

We let her simmer on the cross for a good quarter of an hour. It was getting a little uncomfortable for the victim – it was apparent, that the ropes were biting into her joints, and it was starting to hurt her.

Janina noticed it also.

“This show’s going on a good bit longer, Sophie,” she teased, “Almost an hour you’ve got to be able to endure that if you want the job of holiday stand-in.”

“I do indeed,” snorted Sophie.

“Ha,” cried Maria, “Jesus in jeans and a T-shirt! How stupid! On the cross, you’ve got to be naked! Stark naked!”

“You think you can make it more authentic than me, do you?” asked Sophie. “Untie me, and you can show us how it should be done, c’mon!”

Maria took the stool. She untied Sophie’s ankles and then her wrists, soon Sophie stood as a free girl in front of us and showed us excitedly the prints of the ropes on her slender joints.

“Now you,” she said to Maria, “Come on! Get your clothes off!”

Maria hesitated. She stood there with her arms hanging down, looking at us with wide eyes.

“What’s the matter? Do you want to play tricks with us?” said Janina, “Just now you went right over the top! So go ahead! You’re not dodging out of it now!”

“Exactly! No tricks!” cried Sophie, “Show us, Maria, you’re next for the cross.”

“I …,” Maria’s voice sounded hoarse.

She looked at each of us in turn. We nodded silently and meaningfully. Maria looked at the ropes, then at the cross, she smiled ruefully.

”Well, then …”

She went to her bunk bed and undressed. First her slippers, then her jeans, her shirt, and finally her panties – she wasn’t wearing a bra. She turned to us. She was naked. She was shaved on her fanny, heightening the impression of nudity.

“Okay,” she said softly, “I’m ready.”

With small steps, she tripped into the alcove and got up on the stool in front of the cross. She turned around and leaned with her back against the wood. Then she spread out her arms.

Janina and I set up our chairs under the crossbar. We climbed up. The ropes were still attached in the holes, they’d only been untied to free Sophie’s wrists. We tied Maria well onto the transom. The girl stood devoutly still. I could see the excitement in her. As I’d done for Sophie, I tied her feet at the ankles and then fed the protruding ends of rope behind her ankles and around the upright. After she’d positioned her bare feet on the footrest, I made a tight knot and returned to the front of the cross where the others were already standing and looking at Maria.

The girl was hanging naked on the cross, arms spread, her legs very slightly flexed at the knees. Still, she looked down at us. I noticed how small and delicate her hands and feet were -the hands and feet of a princess. Her small breasts were exceptionally pretty and the rosy nipples stood literally in the air. Her skin was white and spotless, I couldn’t spot a single blemish. Still and yielding she hung on the great wooden cross. I envied her, burning with envy, I’d so gladly have been tied up there myself. My heart was pounding as I just gazed at the girl.

“Well then, how does it feel?” Sophie asked, slapping with the palm of her hand on Maria’s naked feet, “Unlike me, you’re barefoot up to the neck,” she winked, “You look so authentic! Can you do a quarter of an hour? Like me? ”

Maria swallowed.

”That’s nothing special,” she said.

Her voice was low as if she didn’t dare to speak it out loud.

“Anyone can do fifteen minutes, I want to hang through a whole Mass,” she looked at Sophie, “You said it, didn’t you? Vacation cover on the cross.”

Now she smiled a smile that made my heart thump harder.

“That would take up to dinner-time,” said Janina, looking sceptically at Maria, “It would be pretty well an hour long. Have you thought this through?”

Maria nodded silently.

I must, spoke her eyes, I am bound and helpless, I have to stay on the cross until you set me free. I was hanging on her eyes, the determination in them made me almost mad. Maria looked so humble!

“Good. We’ll take you at your word,” Sophie said, “You’ll stay tied up until dinner, Maria.”

She looked straight at the crucified girl.

“Even if you decide you can’t stand it any longer, do you hear? We won’t let you down any earlier, you can whine all you want. Do you understand?”

Maria nodded silently. She said not a word. Her silence was driving me crazy. She was so quiet and obedient.

“Then have fun on the cross!” Sophie again slapped Maria’s bare feet, “We’ll go outside and have a game — whoever wants to hang around indoors in this beautiful weather?”

She grinned at Maria.

“Except for you, of course. Happy hanging … see you later!” she turned to us, “Let’s take the ball behind the buildings, next to the monastery garden there’s a lawn, we can have a game before dinner!”

We grabbed the ball and ran downstairs. In the meadow, we amused ourselves with a game. But I wasn’t really in it, I constantly had to think of Maria. When I’d missed the ball for the third time, I gave up.

“I’m going inside,” I announced, “I’m too knackered to play, power on without me.”

With a wave, I said goodbye and left. I had to try not to run. Only when I was inside the monastery building did I run? In my bare feet, I scampered up the cool stone stairs to our bedroom. I quietly opened the door. The room seemed empty. From the door, you couldn’t see into the niche where the cross was.

I closed the door behind me and walked to the alcove. When Maria saw me, she silently closed her eyes and sighed inaudibly. I realized that she’d been afraid that one of our teachers was coming into the room. She must have suffered quite a shock.

She looked so cute with her flushed cheeks. Everything about Maria looked sweet. I got myself a chair, and sat myself down on it with the backrest forward, resting my forearms on the backrest. I gazed up at Maria on the cross.

She was hanging silently on the wood. She made no sound. Her silence was driving me crazy. She seemed so humble, so giving, crazy! With outstretched arms she hung on the cross, naked as God made her. Her small firm breasts thrust out. I looked at her flat stomach, her gently curving hips, her slender, shapely legs, her petite feet, and her small hands.

She was very pretty. She had shoulder-length black hair. It was slightly curled and framed a narrow, bright face without freckles. Her eyes were a bright blue, clear as the water of a mountain lake, and lit from within.

She’s enjoying it, I thought, it’s what she wanted, to be her bond. She’s always wanted to be tied up, and now she can experience it. How I envied Maria!

I looked at the bondage on her delicate wrists and ankles. The cords were the only decorations on her otherwise naked body. Her body stood out light on the dark stained oak, I’d have loved to take a picture of Maria, but I’d left my small digital camera at home, and now I cursed my forgetfulness.

I watched as Maria moved on the cross. Sometimes she pressed down with her knees, probably to escape the strain on her arms and shoulders. Enduring this long was taking pretty intense determination. For a while, she hung still and gave herself up to the cross. Then she started moving again. It was a slow dance, a kind of ballet that seemed very erotic to me. It looked excitingly beautiful as she moved in her bondage.

I stood up, pushed the chair to the side and put the stool in front of the cross. Maria watched me silently, she said not a word. I climbed onto the stool and stood before the crucified girl.

“You like it, don’t you?” I asked in a whisper.

I could hardly control my excitement. My heart was beating loudly and I felt tingling between my legs, the sight of this girl was arousing me vehemently.

“You like being tied up, agreed? ”

Maria looked at me in silence. Her eyes were huge in her bright, narrow face.

“Why don’t you speak?” I asked, my voice was hoarse with excitement. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

Oh, how my heart was beating!

Maria looked at me silently. It was driving me crazy.

“Maria,” I whispered, “Maria!”

I raised my hands and stroked her outstretched arms. She spoke not a word, just looked at me silently.

I looked into her face and saw this humble look in her big blue eyes. I could no longer restrain myself, I leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. Softly, at first, very softly. She was letting me kiss her, I grew braver, I invaded her lips with my tongue and penetrated her.

Maria let it be, she willingly gave me access to her sweet mouth. I kissed her passionately. My hands caressed her body, her sides, her hips. Then I grabbed her small firm breasts, between my fingers the nipples responded, they were hard like little pebbles. She was still looking at me silently, still making no sound, she didn’t even groan. But I saw the excitement in her eyes.

I gently caressed her breasts, I massaged them tenderly. Maria was breathing harder. She was looking at me all the time — still in silence. It was making me crazy. Again I kissed her passionately, I’d never kissed a girl, her lips were full and sweet, and I was thrilled.

“Maria,” I whispered, “Maria!”

I continued to stroke her, my right hand went down over her flat belly, down to the crevice between her bare legs. I gently pushed my hand between her thighs. I felt for her pleasure pearl and felt Mary’s excited wetness with my fingertips. I was just starting to stroke it when I heard a noise on the stairs. The others were coming back — crap!

I quickly got down from the stool and drew it aside. Then I grabbed a fashion magazine from the table, sat down on a chair and made out I was reading. The door flew open and the gang came in.

“Is she still alive?” Sophie wanted to know.

I pretended to emerge from the depths of concentration and glanced into the recess where Maria was hanging naked on the cross.

”Yes.”

The girls went into the alcove, I joined them. Sophie looked at her watch.

“It’ll be over soon, Maria, five more minutes.”

Mary was silent.

Sophie tilted her head.

“Look at her, she’s looking in really good spirits, almost relaxed,” she smiled knowingly. “Just look at her eyes, how bright they are! Just look!”

I smiled to myself and said nothing. What does Sophie know?

The last few minutes I spent looking at Maria on the cross, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. I looked all over her bound, stretched, naked body and thought how it would feel to be in her place. We’re staying here three days in the monastery — perhaps, I thought, we could make a game of it, each of us in turn tied up for some time on the cross. A wonderful idea!

Finally, we liberated Maria.

Only when she was fully dressed in front of us, did she break her silence.

“I could have stood it for longer,” her voice was soft and quiet, “Much longer.”

Sophie grinned defiantly.

”We could consider it, Maria — right after dinner. “

Maria looked at Sophie, then her eyes fell on me,

“We could all try it.”

Sophie shrugged.

“Why not?”

Her cheeks had suddenly become covered with a delicate blush, she looked nervous – I knew why! She was eager to be tied back up on the cross And I only … At dinner, Ix kept looking towards Maria, she was sitting across the table from me. Finally, I plucked up my courage and smiled at her timidly. She smiled back, knowingly. In her eyes, I read that she knew exactly what I was thinking.

After dinner, we shifted ourselves quickly up to our dorm. We were all six full of excitement we’d never experienced before, we were doing something wild, It was clear to all of us, something that was perhaps prohibited, maybe even a little bit wicked, in any event, exciting, very exciting.

“Well, my dear Maria,” Sophie began at once, “Now you can tell us whether you can stand more than an hour. You’re going right back on the cross. ”

“No!”

We all turned around, and Natalie was looking at us — Natalie, who hardly ever spoke up, the silent Natalie.

“What?” said Sophie.

“I said no,” repeated Natalie and shook her thick, honey-blonde hair, “That’s not enough time, if Maria wants to show us how much she can endure, then she be asking for two hours hanging on the cross.”

Natalie pointed to the small clock that hung above the door,

“But there’s not enough time, unless we want Miss Rosenthal bursting in in the middle of our -hmm- special game to tell us that it’s half an hour to bedtime and all good girls have to go to bed, and please remember to go to the toilet and don’t forget to brush your teeth!”

Natalie was grinning from ear to ear.

“What do you think Rosenthal will say when she discovers Maria hanging dressed as Eve on the cross? Or Bertram, Bertram?”

We all giggled, it hadn’t occurred to us that our class teacher might catch us in bondage. Bertram Bertram’s beard would fall off in fright. Our teacher was Herr Bernard Bertram, but when he introduced himself to us last year, he mumbled into his beard and we thought he said his name was Bertram Bertram. Since then, that nickname hung on him.

“Who then?” answered Sophie, “I might …”

Natalie pointed her finger at me, “Stephanie”

“Huh? Her?” Sophie looked startled, “What for and why so?”

Natalie smiled, “The lovely Stephanie was always out in front when you and Maria wanted to tie up, it’s time now to swap roles, don’t you think?”

My heart began to beat wildly, I must be tied up, me! Janina was standing next to Natalie and looked towards me,

“She doesn’t look very keen to me.”

Not yet, nor yet … but! I just couldn’t get a word out for excitement.

“Keen or not, it’s her turn,” Natalie declared vigorously.

After we free Steffi, each of us can have a turn, no problem!”

“Okay,” said Daniela.

All agreed. I’d still have to get a word out, I had to swallow. God, I was so excited.

Sophie stood in front of me.

”What are you waiting for, Steffi? Get your clothes off! The cross is waiting for you!”

I swallowed again. Clothes off? Naked? My heart was beating even faster than before. Sophie waved a hand in front of my face.

“Hello? Is anyone at home? Dear Stephanie, will you kindly remove your entire clothing immediately, so we can proceed with your impending crucifixion? Come on, my love! No false modesty! ”

“Exactly,” cried Maria, smiling at me with shining eyes, “No false modesty — otherwise, we can embarrass you!”

“I …” I stuttered.

“What is it with you, Stephanie? Don’t you know how to undress?”

Sophie swore, she bent down and pulled the sneakers off her feet.

”You start with the shoes.”

“Shoes?” I stood there dumb.

I was so excited I just couldn’t move.

“Yes, shoes,” Sophie replied.

She looked at me as if I were intellectually impaired.

“Take off your shoes, Stephanie!”

“But … I’ve only got flip-flops on,” I said stupidly. Sophie rolled her eyes.

”I do hereby grant royal permission to take off your flip-flops instead of your shoes.”

The others were beginning to howl with laughter.

Maria came across to me. “Do something, Steffi. It’s easy. Once you get started, it happens by itself.”

Dear little Maria! I shook the flip-flops of my bare feet. Then I started to peel off my clothes. My heartbeat accelerated even more. Piece by piece I stripped off until I stood naked in front of the gang.

“Well then,” said Sophie drily, “It works! Over in the corner! The cross awaits you.”

The cross awaits me, I thought, why suddenly this old-fashioned turn of phrase? With soft knees, I walked into the corner. Maria went ahead, she put a stool in front of the cross,

“Climb up, Stephanie!”

How kind she was, it was as if she were asking me to raise my arms so I could try on a sweater. I climbed onto the stool and turned my back to the cross. Again I had to swallow. The whole time I hardly uttered a peep, I couldn’t speak. Mute, I leaned back against the wood and spread out my arms.

Sophie and Maria brought chairs straight away, put them under the horizontal cross-bar and climbed up. I just had to keep my wrists in the open loops of rope and the two began to wind them around. They pulled the cord twists tight enough so that I was firmly held in bondage, but not so tight that my blood would be shut off.

I almost orgasmed with excitement. I had to suppress a shudder. Silently I watched as my two girlfriends tied me up, constantly moving my head from left to right and back again, looking and looking. Finally, I was bound to the beam.

Bound – what a word! I was bound, they’d bound me to the cross-bar.

Below, Maria was embracing my ankles with turns of the rope. Then she pulled the rope between my feet, so I couldn’t slip out of the bondage. Finally, she tied a knot behind my ankles.

“Lift your feet on the support, Stephanie,” commanded Maria.

I obeyed. I flexed my legs slightly and put my bare feet onto the downward-sloping platform. Because my soles were naked, I found I’d a pretty good grip on it. Maria drew the rope ends from my ankles behind the upright and knotted them behind. Now I was completely captive, bound hand and feet to the cross, naked before my classmates.

They looked up at me. Some grinned, others looked serious. Maria smiled conspiratorially. She pulled the stool away.

My heart was beating like a steam hammer, I felt as if it would bounce my head off. Tied! I was really and truly tied up! What a feeling! I pulled tentatively at the cords that held me. They were so firmly knotted I had no chance of freeing myself. I was at the mercy of my girlfriends, exposed naked.

Only now was that clear to me, I hadn’t even the smallest scrap of fabric on the body? There are those bikinis that comprise only thin strings and tiny scraps of fabric, I’ve gone one, dark Blue, it only covers just the essentials, but it does conceal them. Here and now, nothing’s hidden, before the eyes of my classmates, I’m revealed, naked.

I felt shame but, strangely enough, excitement. I was, so to speak, being publicly exhibited and I was enjoying it, even though I was ashamed. It was deeply confusing to me. I was naked, and I liked it, but at the same time, I was feeling ashamed. But it was especially nice. But I was only tied — the thought of chains made me a bit scared. Where did that idea come from? Has it come into our room from next door? Heavens, supposing anyone saw me like that!

I looked down at my girlfriends. Yes, down, I was hanging a few feet above them, I held an elevated position, so they could see me better, look at me, stare at me. They were watching and how! Interested glances darted across my naked skin like nimble mice, running from head to toe, up and down my body up and along my limbs. I must be offering a very attractive sight, they’re enjoying the spectacle!

I felt myself blushing, I couldn’t prevent it. At the same time, I felt totally good, I felt great. How often in the past have I dreamed of being tied up helplessly, now it’s become a reality. I was bound naked, nude. I was the only one, they down there looked up at me with so much interest and were wearing jeans and t-shirts, or skirts and blouses.

One detail I noticed — they were all barefoot. Like me, I thought and felt a laugh rising in me. Don’t they say that pop singers on the stage take off their shoes because bare feet are a symbolic form of nakedness? So my girlfriends were symbolically naked too, while I’m presenting a symbol of nakedness or something like that?

I tried the bondage again and moved about on the cross. I hadn’t got much room for manoeuvre. I was amazed, I could move my head, and I was able to press on my knees and push myself a little way up — by doing this, the strong strain was taken from my outstretched arms — a bit at least.

When I tugged on my wrist-bonds and stretched my legs, I could lift my pelvis away from the upright and push forward a little, and I could easily move my hips to the left and right. But I couldn’t do more. All that remained possible for me was a kind of limited, dancing movement. I was dancing slowly on the cross.

Down there they were staring. My movements had an erotic, arousing effect on them, that was clear to me. They aroused me too, little by little. I felt ashamed, a crazy feeling of chaos was raging in my head. My arms were beginning to ache, but instead of whining about the pain, I was enjoying it. I was proud to stay silent.

Of course, it wasn’t hurting, not yet. But I could imagine that it would be quite uncomfortable after a while. Could I stand an hour without complaining? Would I be begging my friends to let me down? What if they ignored my request? If they just left me hanging — in the truest sense of that phrase?

I swallowed. I was a captive. I was helpless, at their mercy. If they decided not to release me, I had to stay on the cross, whether I wanted to or not. A thought flashed through my brain. I imagined being on the cross all night long, I imagined how I’d be squirming on the ropes, how everything would be hurting, how I’d be defeated — utterly. The pain would be so bad, I’d be suffering such agonies, I’d be begging, but no one would listen to me. The thought excited me beyond measure, I began to tingle in my pussy.

I relaxed on the cross, flirting with the wood like a lazy dancer. I saw Mary looking up at me, her eyes were wide and shining — she knew what I was feeling, for sure. The others too? I can see your eyes wandering over me. Sophie, sandy-haired Sophie with your snub nose and cheeky freckles who almost always ran around in the school-yard barefoot in summer-time during the midday break, Sophie with your big mouth and your big heart — you enjoyed being tied up, and you enjoyed seeing me being tied to the cross, I know!

And the others? Delicate Daniela with your good grades and your gentle nature. Sporty Janina, small and wiry, fair-to-middling student. She was looking up at me – quiet and interested. Oh yes, these two have got to be tied up as well.

And Natalie, deep blonde Natalie, always so unobtrusive, never saying much. Even Natalie’s eyes signalled to me that she liked what she saw. I was sure that Natalie wanted to be in my place. Are all girls like this? Are we all the same? Do we all have the same secret desires? Crazy world! Why have we never talked about it? We chatter all the time about everything, especially about boys. Maybe guys were the main theme because we were in a girls’ school. But why had we never had conversations about bondage? Too embarrassing?

I looked down at the five girls, all barefoot, standing in a semicircle in front of the cross, how they were gazing at me! Oh, man! However didn’t we have the idea of talking about ropes and shackles? For a long time, we’ve had plenty of opportunities for some wild games. At school, there were places where you could play with ropes – secret places…

And supposing it wasn’t secret? If it were public? My head went off to the cinema. Crosses in the middle of the schoolyard. Girls who hadn’t done their homework getting their punishment during the midday break on these crosses.

There were also “torture stakes,” where girls would be tied standing upright, bending their arms back to be tied at the wrists. And on the wall of the school building, there’d be iron rings screwed in, where you could chain girls — naked and spread open like an X, made to stand against the wall. What an idea!

Sophie smiled up at me.

“Behold Saint Stephanie,” she declaimed, “Saint Stephanie on the cross, our sacred martyr!”

She was about to spin out the joke when there was a knock on our door. I froze. My stomach clenched with fear. The door was flung open.

“Everybody out!” cried Melanie from the room next door, “We’ve all got to go down into the great hall. Come on, giddy-up girls!”

My friends looked at me, then they looked at one another.

”No time,” Sophie whispered, “You must stay hanging. Quick! Down to the hall! ”

They stormed out, I heard the pounding of their bare feet on the parquet floor. The door slammed. Outside feet pattered and voices could be heard, further and further away. Then I was alone. All alone. Nude. Stark naked. Tied. Helpless and defenceless in bondage – bound on a great wooden cross.

How long will they be away? Ten minutes? Half an hour?Longer? What if they’re having a lecture down there in the hall? Or watching a film? A film usually takes a long time. I pictured the girls sitting in a darkened room and watching a documentary about the historical attractions. After the film, there’s a presentation, and then the next film follows … lecture, film, lecture, film … until bedtime!

I saw myself hanging helplessly on the cross. Wriggle -writhe in agony. I was feeling the tight bondage now. It wasn’t hurting — not yet, but that would come. A quarter of an hour perhaps, at most a half, I could stand. Then it would be difficult. What if the girls don’t come back until ten o’clock? That would mean I had to endure two hours on the cross.

I swallowed. I hadn’t anticipated this. No one had anticipated it. Calm down, Stephanie, my thoughts said to myself, if it comes to that one of them will secretly steal out and come up and set you free, they won’t let you spend two hours on the cross — you’ve already done a good half hour, if not longer.

Maria will come. I relaxed. Yes, Maria would come. Suddenly I liked my position again quite a lot, even if the ropes were hurting more and more. I was beginning to enjoy my crucifixion. As long as I was alone, I was able to squirm on the cross to my heart’s content, nobody was staring at me, and I didn’t need to feel ashamed.

I decided to just wait — I couldn’t do anything anyway. Here I was, hanging naked and helpless, tied to a large wooden cross in the girls’ dormitory, and I just had to accept what was happening to me. Somehow that aroused me greatly. My heart began to beat violently. With a soft moan — half pain half pleasure — I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wood. I was willing to endure it, all of it, everything…

I was hanging still, surrendered to the cross. My arms were aching, my shoulders too, it was becoming more and more unbearable by the minute. But I was enduring it, I couldn’t help it, I just had to endure, whether I liked it or not. In my mind, a small whirlwind of emotions was raging. I was confused as I’d never been before. I was suffering, I was in pain. No big pain, but it hurt. And I liked that — yes, and how! It was driving me mad, I was enjoying the torment. But that’s crazy! How could that be?!

I relaxed on the cross and danced with slow movements to ease the pain in my arms and shoulders. My wrists ached, and my ankles a bit, where the ropes held me tight. I felt the smooth wood of the footrest beneath my bare soles. I felt the wood of the cross against my butt and my shoulders. I was firmly attached to the great cross, inseparably united with the wood. I was doomed to suffer. The others had gone, God alone knew when they’d reappear to set me free, so I had to put up with it.

It had captured me totally, the pain. I never could admit it to anyone, not even to myself. But wasn’t it at the heart of the crazy fantasies I’ve had since I reached puberty? Hadn’t I run these wild movies in the cinema in my head, where I was a disobedient slave girl being punished? A young girl captured by pirates? The youthful baroness, who’d fallen into the clutches of robbers in the forest?

In all the little movies, it always turned out the same — they handcuffed me, they tied me to a ship mast or a tree in the forest, I was chained to the wall in a gloomy dungeon, or exhibited in public, in shackles or chains of course. Often, all too often, that wasn’t all that I had done to myself in these little fantasy films, yes, they played with me in other ways … When I think about it now, I turn bright red.

Moaning softly, I stretched myself on the cross. I tugged at my bonds and fought against them with relish. In my wild fantasies, I’ve always been tied up or clamped in irons for an extremely long time, until it hurt, and I was begging and whining pitifully to God for mercy, which was of course never granted me. Over time, new ideas came to me, about canes and riding crops and leather straps.

Yes, I’ve long wished to be forced to endure pain, but I’ve never been able to say it out loud in real life, not even now. Had my classmates still been present, I’d have gone to great lengths not to let them know that the crucifixion was beginning to hurt me, and I certainly wouldn’t let on that I was enjoying it, that it was exciting me beyond all measure.

I tried to tilt my head back, but the wooden upright prevented me. I hauled myself up with all my strength on my bondage, and arched my back, thrusting my pelvis forward. Then I let myself fall back and sink quietly for a while on my arms until I had to press with my knees to lift myself a little.

Again and again, I moaned loudly. As long as no one was there, I didn’t restrain myself. My excitement was growing by the minute, in my sex it tingled pleasantly. If the others stay away for a long time, so I can suffer quietly by myself, I’ll love it — it’s hurting, and it’s good!

Outside in the hallway, footsteps approached — I heard the soft pad of thin-soled slippers, they were approaching the door to our dorm. I swallowed. Slippers with soles? The girls were barefoot, all five of them! I knew that for sure. Whoever’s out there isn’t one of our gang. Let them go past, I prayed fervently in my mind.

Calm down, Stephanie said a little voice in my head. It’s someone from one of the neighboring rooms, they won’t come in here, why should they? They’ll go to their room and get what they need — maybe they need to change a tampon or to get some tissues. Take it easy, Steffi, calm down.

I let myself sink looser on the wrist-bondage. The footsteps stopped directly outside our bedroom. The door opened. My heart leapt with a giant vault, I was stiff with fright. Someone had opened the door, the door to our bedroom …

“Hello? Anyone in?”

That was the voice of Miss Rosenthal! My stomach clenched into a hot ball. My history teacher was standing in the doorway, I was beginning to sweat.

“Is anyone here?”

Why do you ask such silly questions? You can see the room’s empty! Or do you think someone’s hiding under the bed? Stupid woman! Go away!

I hung frozen on the cross. I had to struggle with all my might to suppress a whimper. I was beside myself with fear. If Rosenthal’s got the idea of coming into the room! My eyes fell on the window. One was open. Outside, a strong wind was blowing, a thunderstorm was approaching. Because of the open door, it’s beginning to blow through. What if Rosenthal comes up with the idea of closing the window so rain won’t get in?

I began to tremble, and all of a sudden I was acutely aware of my nudity, I was stark naked and tied to the cross — naked! Oh God! If Rosenthal sees me!

Please go away, I pleaded inwardly. My heart was beating wildly, blood roaring in my ears, I was beside myself with agitation and fear of being discovered. Please go, Miss! Please!

Soft slippers on the parquet floor – she’s coming in! She’s coming into the room! I tugged at my wrist ropes and tried with all my might to pull my feet out of the slings. I fought desperately, though I knew it was utterly futile, I couldn’t get away, I was much too tightly tied.

Footsteps approached, quietly prowling, hunting for something, so it seemed to me. Rosenthal’s sneaking up on me … Oh no! Please don’t!

I tried to disappear into the wood of the cross. My teacher’s heading towards the window, she only has to turn her head to the left and she’ll see me — a girl who just happens to be naked and tied onto a cross, that’s how she’ll see me … My trembling intensified, and I no longer had any control of myself, with the last of my strength I held back a loud gasp. The footsteps came closer…

“These girls,” Rosenthal sounded indignant, “They know perfectly well there’s likely to be a thunderstorm and they leave the windows gaping wide open! And Father Abbot made a special point of it at dinner-time, he said they must be closed.”

The steps of my teacher came closer. I gave up hope, and with a slight sound, I let myself sink into my bondage and closed my eyes, it was all I could do.

It was out. It had happened to me. Miss Rosenthal was looking at me. I didn’t know what I’d say when she asked me what I was doing, I didn’t know anything more. In my mind thoughts were racing back and forth like scared chickens when the fox breaks into the barn.

It was out.

“Terrible,” growled Miss Rosenthal.

I heard her shut the window and lock it.

“Eighteen, nineteen years old, and they act like silly little kids!”

My history teacher was pissed off. She was, incidentally, also my PE teacher. And she’s going to be my inquisitor-teacher, my torture-me-to-talk-teacher, my shame-me-to-death-teacher. I tried to make myself sink into the oak wood of the cross, I tried to disappear behind the dark stained grain. I wanted to make myself invisible. Alas, no way. I kept my eyes shut, that was all I could do to shut out the reality. I was close to tears.

It was very quiet in the bedroom. Nothing could be heard. Is she still standing at the windows? If she turns around to the left to go back to the door, she’s got to see me. If she turns the other way, I’ll be hidden from her sight. My chances are exactly fifty-fifty. Pretty bad cards, Stephanie — a really bad deal for you, you crucified naked girl, bad, bad, very bad, ultra-bad, mega bad, even hellishly bad just isn’t close …

The seconds dragged on endlessly. Is Miss Rosenthal standing at the window and looking at me? Or what is she looking at? At the sky with the approaching storm because it’s an interesting spectacle? I know it is, the clouds take on the most amazing colours and shapes, I enjoy watching when a storm’s impending …

You’re trying to comfort yourself, whispered the voice in my head, you know she isn’t looking out of the window –she’s standing six feet away from you and staring at you, Stephanie! You need only open your eyes, then you’ll meet her disbelieving look. Go on! Open your eyes! She’s going to speak to you anyway, look at her!

I couldn’t, I didn’t have the strength to open my eyes, I had no strength left in me. I was limp with terror and horror, I couldn’t pull myself up on my bonds, I was hanging on the cross like a wet sack, I was sweating and shaking like a racehorse, my heart was pounding in my throat. I went on praying in silence that my history teacher might disappear — please, God …

The time stretched to infinity. How long had Rosenthal been standing at the window? Three minutes? Five? Or was it just five seconds? Eight seconds? Half a minute? I didn’t know, time had lost all meaning for me. I was feeling no more pain, the terror and anxiety anaesthetised me. My heart was thundering so loudly, surely she could hear it? The blood roared in my ears, my head was ringing … She’s found me. I’m caught. Miss Rosenthal’s seen me. Sure …

Quiet footsteps receding.

“These girls,” my teacher sounded grumpy, “Tsk, tsk!”

With a gentle thud the door closed, I slumped, whimpering, and then I groaned loud and long. Rosenthal was gone — God in heaven be thanked! Thank you for the storm winds, and thank you for the thundercloud in all its great colours, I hope the spectacle outside the window pleased you, Miss Rosenthal.

She hadn’t seen the spectacle inside the dormitory — me. It was a small miracle, but it was the truth. I cried with relief, for a few minutes I just hung quietly sobbing on the cross until at least I calmed down and my heart was no longer beating like crazy.

Gradually I came to myself. When I was clear again in my head, the pain came back, I was feeling my bondage now very intensely, especially the ropes on my wrists. How long had I been on the cross? I had no idea.

But no sooner had I calmed down, than I again heard steps on the landing. I tensed up. Then I registered the gentle patter of bare feet, someone approaching the dorm at a run. Barefoot, not leather sandals. I calmed down. It had to be one of my roommates running down the corridor. The door flew open and was hastily closed again, bare feet padded softly across the floor towards me.

I looked to my right. It was Maria. Oh God, Maria! You won’t believe how glad I am to see you! I couldn’t speak, my throat was seized up, and I could only stare at her.

She moved the stool directly in front of the cross and stepped up on it. She stood before me smiling. She was a bit shorter than me — small and dainty like a doll. Her eyes seemed to want to eat me. Suddenly her hands came up, and her fingertips wandered gently over my breasts, they were immediately covered with goose bumps, my nipples stood out and were firm and hard, and I couldn’t suppress a soft moan.

“We have to stay here the rest of the week, Steffi,” she said softly, “We’ve just talked down in the hall, we can’t stay at Rosenstolz Castle, they’ve had problems with flooding, the rivers burst their banks, ‘cos it’s been raining in the Czech Republic for a fortnight — at least, that’s how I understood it, anyway.”

Maria’s fingers stroked me everywhere, I thrilled in pleasure, it was an incredibly delicious, intense, yet calm feeling, being given up to the cross to hang naked, and to be delivered defenceless into the caressing hands of a sweet girl.

“We have to stay here in the monastery,” she went on, kneading gently over my hips. I shivered with pleasure, she grinned cheekily … “But that means that soon we’ll run out of places to visit, so we’ll just visit one site each day, in the mornings.”

Her hands ran over my abdomen and upwards back to my breasts, I reacted eagerly to their welcome contact.

Maria looked at me intently.

”We’ll have the afternoons free, Steffi,” she smiled, “We’ll have plenty of time to experiment with the bondage — each one of us should get several turns, I think.”

Suddenly she leaned against me and hugged me.

”That’s nice, Stephanie,” she breathed, I could feel her rapid heartbeat, “So beautiful — I’m so looking forward to it, it’s a wonderful feeling, being tied up …” she looked at me seriously, “Eh, Steff?”

I could only nod dumbly, I couldn’t speak. Yes Maria, it is wonderful, I love it.

Maria kissed me gently on the mouth. Her nimble tongue forced my lips apart and penetrated me, demanding, that I was hers, I gave myself up completely to her kiss. Her left hand was holding my hair, her right hand roaming across my abdomen and slipping down between my legs. When her fingers explored my rut, I groaned.

Outside, the dull pounding of bare feet came towards our room. Maria let go of me.

“No! Go on!” I cried aloud greedily, I was aroused to the highest pitch of intensity, please Maria, don’t stop, keep going, please …

She smiled at me knowingly and jumped off the stool. She drew it aside, grabbed a chair, sat on it and looked up at me. The door flew open and the rest of the gang burst into the bedroom. They came straight to the alcove where I was hanging naked on the cross.

“Oh, it’s still there!” cried Sophie, as if she were amazed — did they expect I’d have hopped off in their absence, taking the cross with me, leapt out of the window and flown away?

“Have you told her?” Sophie nudged Maria.

“Hm,” Maria nodded and looked at me.

Their eyes swept over my naked body. Maria gazed and gazed.

“Rosenthal noticed you were missing,” Sophie said, “She wanted to know if you were suffering from Montezuma’s Revenge.”

They all laughed, and I did too.

“Come on, we’ll get Steffi down,” ordered Sophie, “She’s endured long enough. We can go on crucifying in turns until lights out — let’s get her untied.”

She pushed a chair under the crossbar. Maria pushed her under the other side of the beam. Below, Janina untied my ankle-bonds. When I was allowed to get down freely off the cross, I was glad to be rid of the ropes at last, by the end they’d pressed painfully, and I’d been hurting hideously.

I threw Maria a shy glance, my pussy was still burning with excitement — oh why had the others come back so soon?! I could still feel her slender fingers in my cunt.

Natalie grabbed my wrists.

”You’ve got great print marks from the ropes, Steffi,” she said admiring them, “Maybe I’ll soon have bracelets like those!”

“We’ll see,” said Sophie, “We’ll draw lots for the order we’ll go in, and then each girl will get her turn to be crucified.”

What an announcement! Sophie had just spoken it, one of us girls will be crucified each day, as if it were a normal procedure. I was entranced — a whole week we’ll stay in this monastery, I’m destined to be bound to the cross for a second time myself, what a wonderful idea!

While Sophie scribbled our names on little scraps of paper, I threw Maria a glance, she smiled at me knowingly. She knew exactly what I was thinking.

THE END