© Copyright 2011 - Brandy - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-F; sbf; susp; cross; stuck; torture; trauma; extreme; cons/nc; XXX
I have been plagued by a very strange sexual fetish and fantasy my entire life. It is now so strong and motivating that it impossible to resist, although God knows that I have tried. What I am about to attempt to satisfy this overwhelming passion and lust is unthinkable by a sane person but my desires are compelling and I have decided to yield and submit to them.
It all began with me as a small girl playing on the monkey bars at the school playground. An innocent experience of swinging on the bars and holding on to keep from falling, I worked my body into a position as if crucified. Although not aware of what crucifixion was, the sensations felt by hanging helpless like this for just a few seconds was significant to my developing psychology. There was serious pain in my shoulders and armpits, a burning sensation that I was never to forget. As I matured into womanhood, somehow my mind remembered this serious pain as a very erotic experience, Now, that makes no sense to me, for as a nine year old child, there was no concept of erotic emotions whatever. Yet, my mind did manufacture that hanging experience into eroticism at the highest level.
I have craved that experience, that sensation in my arms, armpits, chest tightening, and breast stretching, with each moment of maturing and becoming sexually aware. This area of my body seemed to house all my feelings. As a teen, every crush I had on a boy, it was felt in my chest, in the nerves in my axilla area (armpit).Why was this so?
Under the shoulder three large nerves come together at the shoulder, the radial, the lunar, and the median nerves. The shoulders have four joints, a large number of muscles, cartilage, lymph glands, the axillary artery and bones, each with nerve endings waiting to respond to any stimulus seeking input. These nerves carry the signals to the brain about sensations such as touch, pain, and arousal. Whenever I was paralyzed by love, I wanted to embrace my shoulders and armpits.
Every boy I ever dated, although my feelings were secret to them, I did wish he would rape me and tie me to a cross to suffer a wonderful pain. With every climax or orgasm, this was felt high into my chest and arms.
I do somewhat understand the anatomy of love but the psychology of my obsession is a mystery. If I can get on that cross with my arms stretched tight as a rubber band pulled to the limit, if my body weight can stretch the muscles and tendons and cause the nerves to explode endlessly for hours and maybe days, this thirst I have just might be quenched. My wrists are each bound tight, as tight as I can make them be. The ropes are cutting into my tender flesh. I shake and tremble. I am so nervous that I can hardly stretch and lean enough to hook my wrist to the latch on the crossbeam. But once the hook tips over the latch, it slides down and away from my armpits. The weight of my body pulls the arms further apart and from wrist to wrist the tension is without any give at all. There is no slack. That is the effect I was wanting. My hunger and lust peaks as my fantasy is about to become real.
All that remains is for me to step off the unstable platform that had been erected to hold me up against the cross and allow me to hook my wrists in place. I pause and think. Before taking this final step, I reviewed my plan. I would hang only ten or fifteen minutes. That would be long enough because the pain would be tremendous and intense. My limits would come quickly. I would undoubtedly climax and drift into subspace after which I would step back on the platform and make my escape. In spite of my arousal, my anticipation, the numbness in my chest and trembling throughout my nervous system, I approved of this plan. I then took the next step.
Immediately it was more than anticipated. A full length mirror had been placed in front of my cross. My image reflection was that of a young helpless girl in shock. My mouth was wide open, eyes bulging, face drawn tight, and breathing was an impossibility. In seconds my face aged and its tenderness was replaced with the redness of raw flesh. My body rushed to a climax, the orgasm momentarily took the pain from my body. I took a big breath, sighed and turned my attention to the sensations for which I had so long lusted. The burning in my chest, armpits, and arms was enough to trigger a continual wave of orgasms but as the orgasms came to an end, I knew my limits had been reached.
My feet stretched forward seeking the platform. Being careful to not jar the platform, re-emerging that it was just boards placed on unstable cinder blocks, my feet felt nothing. My head had snapped back against the vertical cross pole but now lit pointed downward searching for the platform. I screamed in utter fear as the platform lay flat on the floor. My escape was foiled.
What am I going to do?
This was my first thought. I summoned all my wits an ingenuity but had no answers. Without having hung ten minutes, the bondage play session was over. Real torture was in progress. The pain was no longer fun or fanciful. It was real, dangerous, and life threatening. Everything was seemingly coming to an end but I quickly realized that it would be days, perhaps, before somebody found me or released me. My suffering was, at least, going to be long and too intense for my sane mind to experience. My escape now was going to have to be patience and waiting the time out hoping that intervening events would occur. In panic I ripped at my wrists but the ropes were strong and only cut into my skin. I squirmed, kicked, and pushed my body about but this only exhausted me and intensified the pain. The tendons, muscles, blood vessels, and cartilage tore, strained, and burned more than expected by each passing second.
As the seconds passed the hurt multiplied and created involuntary body frenzies. After the third frenzy the endorphins kicked in with saving grace as I approached subspace. Drooling and floating in and out of the the zone was going to save my sanity. I resigned to my fate and dreamed thoughts of ecstasy. At times I was able to feel the erotic mood of torture but always this was followed by periods of agony. It was not fully possible to elude the sweat running freely from my armpits, across my breast that quivered in jelly like fashion as my breathing was short and sporadic. My chest jerked with each breath. My head felt each heart beat as it thumped strongly into the vessels of my temples and armpit vessels. I could feel the vanes stretch as the muscles continued to tear apart.
My wrists were now relaxed but pulled tight. It was no longer possible to make a fist to resist the pull of the rope holding fast the position of the upper body. Any pull and stretching came at the expense of the axillary’s small structure. It produced the painful situation that was captured in my erotic fantasy. This was more real than I wanted and I struggled to escape the blunt torture. It was too late for regrets.
I tried to relax my tightened body with a submissive cry of despair.
Nothing worked as I tried every thought and every body move to short circuit the pain. In response to hanging and the pull, my nerves fired and took control of my suffering. There was no thought or deliberation in my cries and screams. These just happened. I had to find a way to escape my body of pain. The hours passed quickly with my flight into and out of subspace. I had forgotten that my husband would be home by 5:30 PM. That was another mistake that I was happy to have made. It took him the rest of the evening to sober me and bring me back from an experience that will never be forgotten. It will be months before my body completely recovers my experience with self bondage.