Readers, this is the last chapter in this story. As I said in Chapter 1, this really happened to me. I've changed some of the details (the name of the streets, etc.), but this really DID happen to me.
Please remember that Nify.org needs donations to continue to make this archive available. Please consider donating at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
I don't know how long I was pinned to the wall like that. I do know I literally fell asleep standing a few times and, when Matt and Aaron finally returned, I was asleep, my knees buckled, my head on my chest, and the cuffs on my wrists holding me upright.
Matt grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked my head up, so that I was facing him. He was back in his jeans, but still stripped to the waist. Even in my dazed state, I reflected on how gorgeous he was.
"One more thing we have to try," he said, smirking. He held up a long strip of black cloth, wound it twice around my head, over my eyes, and tied it behind my head. I couldn't see a thing.
He moved to my left side, and Aaron automatically matched his movement to my left. They disconnected my ankle restraints from the lower rings first, and then disconnected my wrists from the upper rings. On either side of me, they walked my into another section of the room. As I said, I was dazed -- sleepy, certainly, but also disoriented because of the pain I had endured and the long time I had been restrained against the wall, and now doubly because I was blindfolded.
They walked my up to a point on the floor, stopped, and then Matt ordered me to turn around. As I did, they moved around with me, and I was vaguely aware -- as far as I could be, given my altered mental state -- that Aaron had stepped OVER something as he walked the half-circle.
Then Matt said. "Back up. You're going to feel something at your heels. Step on either side of it." They moved me backward, and I did run into something that almost made me fall back. They held me steady, but kept moving me back an additional two or three feet.
Another order: "Sit," Matt said. With them holding my arms, I sat slowly, and sat on what felt like a wide beam. My feet shifted in toward each other, and that confirmed that there was a long beam, like a railroad tie, on the floor under me.
"Lie back," Matt ordered and, still holding my arms, they both put hands on my shoulders and eased me down so that my back was also on the beam. Each of them took one of my arms and pulled it and back, up over my head, and then clipped my wrist restraints to something metal. and then they did the same with the ankle restraints, fixing them to the sides of the beam, as far as I could tell.
They walked away. I could hear them whispering to each other. I tried to move my arms and legs, but the restraints held my arms spread-eagle overhead -- just as I'd been on the platform earlier -- and my legs against the beam I was lying on.
Then, from above me, I heard a winch, or maybe two, operating. The end of the beam closer to my head started rising off the floor. As the beam was pulled to an upright position, I started to slide down, along the length of the beam. Scraping down the length of the beam would have been very painful, and damaging to the skin on my back and ass, except that I was held in place almost immediately by the wrist restraints.
I would have swapped the pain of sliding down the beam, though, because what prevented that caused another type of pain: the muscles in my arms and shoulders were now stretched to their maximum, as the whole weight of my body hung from the wrist restraints.
The winches stopped when the beam was completely upright, and suddenly Matt was back in front of me, undoing the blindfold. As my vision cleared, I looked up at my hands, and then down at my feet. It was as I had guessed, two heavy beams, at least four inches wide on each side, one vertical and one horizontal across the top. My wrists were fastened to the ends of the crossbeam, and my legs were held against the sides of the vertical beam. I was being crucified.
He took a step back.
"This is one of the simplest, but one of the most effective, tortures," he said. "We'd made sure your legs are held down, but the points where they're attached are too low for you to stand on, even a slight bit. That means your arms and shoulders are bearing the full weight of your body You'll be able to hold yourself up for a while, but eventually, you'll have to give up, and your joints will do all the work. It gets very painful, believe me."
"Please," I whispered, "let me down."
He stepped up to me. Running his hands over my stomach, and up my chest, and eventually playing with my taut, erect nipples, he said, "Do you want to stop the session? You know how to do that, right?"
I nodded.
"Then say it." He was tweaking my nipples between the first and second fingers of his hands. "Say my name, and tell me you've had enough, and the session stops right now. But that will be the last time we get together."
I looked up into the spotlights that shown on us from the ceiling joists. I was in pain, but I could take it, at least for now.
"Is that what you want?" he said. I shook my head.
"Good," he said. "But if you change your mind, call out. We'll be around."
Before they left, Aaron moved in to do something at the base of the cross, apparently fastening the bottom to anchors in the floor. Why would they need that? I wondered.
Matt must have seen the puzzled look on my face, and he filled me in: They were just going to let me hang for a while, but that wouldn't be the only thing they'd do. Eventually, they'd be back with the belt. When the pain had had a chance to sink in, when I was at my most vulnerable, they would want to see how I would react to a beating while being crucified.
They walked away, into the darkness.
I don't know how long I hung there. I know it was long enough for me to recall reading about crucifixions -- how they were a death sentence, how (no matter what injuries the accused had endured before being hung on the cross) the victims died of asphyxiation because, eventually, they couldn't breathe. It was long enough for me to drift in and out of full consciousness a few times. I would later ask Matt, and he would tell me it was 30 minutes before they returned. He never had his bottoms do more than that, nor more than 45 minutes total, including the period where they were beaten on the cross. He also said the beatings were actually a way to keep the bottom safe, because the beatings forced the bottom to tense up, use all his muscles again, relieving some of the strain on the joints.
And that, indeed, was what they did. They returned, Matt to use the belt on my chest, stomach, thighs and, eventually, my cock, and Aaron to watch. It probably was 15 minutes, durng which time I screamed a lot, and then Matt stopped, came up to me, put his hand gently on the side of my face and said, "You OK?"
I nodded, and I could see that Aaron was doing whatever he needed to do to free the base of the cross from the floor. Matt operated the winches to bring the cross back down while Aaron guided the base ut into the place where it had started. Working together then, they disconnected my restraints from the cross, removed them from my wrists, and pulled me up to stand. Matt hugged me.
"You did good," he said.
They checked me out to make sure there weren't any long-lasting marks, and then Matt drove me home. We didn't say much on the drive back to our street, but when he pulled into his driveway and turned off the ignition, we sat there a while.
"You OK?" he asked again.
"Yes."
"Had enough, though?"
I turned and looked at him. "No," I said. "I don't know when our wives will both be away at the same time again, or when your growing family will allow you to take a few hours away at night, but I would do this again in a heart beat."
I got out out of the car and then stopped, and looked at him through my still-open door.
"Jesus, I'm sore," I said. "So, not tomorrow. But I would do it again." I smiled, and he smiled back.