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Under duress, stripped of other safeguards of modesty, those brief, white panties continued to be worn, thwarting the willing acquiescence needed before crucifixion could commence. All other attire removed a while ago, there was reluctance to reveal the precious, intimate femininity between legs, so the shard of cloth remained, preserving dignity. Now naked, to mollify further resistance she's roped to a tree and left alone in the cold forest, to contemplate the need to resign herself to accept the fate awaiting. There is none so naked and vulnerable as a woman with a shaved mons pubis . . .
Realising the inevitability of what must come to pass, she is released and permitted to wander naked, to look at the tree on which she will hang. At first she will not look, but then does, before turning with some resentment, head drooping, until arms are raised and subsequently extended horizontally in full cruciform, chest and groin exhibited openly, as if to say ~
“Yes, I do submit; crucify me. Hang me high, look at all of my stark naked feminine body. Yes, crucify me. Just do it. Crucify me!” . . . .
Kneeling, bowed over, face and body hidden by long tresses, the cross bar is tied tightly with soft white rope to outspread arms. Rising slowly, with an air of deep sadness, hair falls forward, obscuring a despondent face. Small, firm breasts with their dark areolae and hard nipples adorn her slender form. Walking slowly of own free will to the tree, there she awaits the beam to be fixed, feet tied. That part of crucifixion proper swiftly completed, she hangs forlornly, locks of golden hair occluding head and breasts that will be fondled, kissed and sucked no more.
In agony, her body swings back and forth, one side to another. The strain on back, shoulders and arms becomes ever more intense. Long hair waves about in response to body motions, a downcast head hiding the sad but very attractive face and those delicate breasts.
On and on, she struggles to alleviate the incessant pain, sobbing pitifully, crying out from time to time, always turning away from the few faces that approach closely to watch her enduring the torture of crucifixion, seemingly ashamed of the vulgar exhibitionism of it all and the insult to self-respect, shyness and reserve which complete nakedness imposes on one fixed up high. It’s small consolation that so few can see how she suffers mentally and physically as legs open and close frequently, the result of pain that compels those same weird and ineffective gyrations. Her pussy was shaved for personal benefit and pleasure, not that of a few leering spectators; shame is total.
At long last head lifts and looks out, confronting the privileged few ogling a constantly writhing, delightfully desirable and very appealing form. Shame is diminishing and pride in her own body is taking hold of tattered emotions. Increasingly, the gorgeous nude hanging from a forest tree is casting the tresses from her chest, displaying it engagingly, giving the appearance of actually flaunting the slit between thighs. Could it be that evidence of sexual arousal is starting to show; a glint of shiny wetness, a deeper, darker line behind the delectable, high-fused labia on smooth, soft mons?
Still no smile on her mouth, but what tempting lips they are, inviting many passionate kisses, before one would progress to the nipples and that equally inviting quim of hers. Yes; she’s quite some woman, however, a woman condemned . . . . now a woman crucified.
(formerly ~ crucified; sad girl accepts her cross in the forest)
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