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04 10-5 f - g - h 36# "It's time now" Jo softly advised, pointing, "arrange yourself on the frame and we'll bind you to it." Blondie behaved herself and submitted calmly to being tied to the cross. Up aloft, securely attached, if after the usual wobbly procedure as the cross was slid on its base into the prepared hole, Blondie was feeling the pain already; the drop had jarred muscles. She was hanging, crucified. Legs, arms and shoulders all ached, feet were cramped, even chest and abdomen felt as if on fire, and this was just the start . . . . The dance of the newly-crucified began at once, as she sought a way of alleviating intense pain, all to no avail, but it was entertaining for the audience. The pace would slow in time, but for the moment she rose, dropped, swung out, forwards and to the sides, scraping her ass and showing off her sexe. Although the audience, Jo and friends, the photo duo, had seen it all before, somehow each time was just as fascinating to watch as the first one. None was sadistic, simply appreciative of writhing in agony.
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