The Easter BDSM Passion Play – Part 1 by Iphigenia-at-Aulis
“What if the Christian deity had been thought to have sent his daughter instead of his son to save humankind?” Those words, which I had heard spoken from a feminist perspective in a class discussion an hour earlier, kept echoing through my mind. Yes, what if?
I was walking past a drab storefront area on East University Avenue, making my way to an interview. An interview for a temporary part-time job supposedly with ‘good compensation’. But I hadn’t applied for the job, they had called me. The guy on the phone said that he had heard ‘great things’ about me from one of my high school friends, Steve, also now here at the University. …It’s weird though. Me, only a second-year student here. I haven’t done any ‘great things’, anywhere, ever.
Abruptly, here it was, 1107 East University Avenue, with the words “New Perspective Films, Inc.” hand-lettered on the door. Before coming I had done some checking. They are a legitimate outfit, but they have a reputation for doing some strange and imaginative stuff.
Well, here I was. I took a deep breath, and opened the door. …Just a staircase leading up. Reaching the top of the stairs, another door, ajar. As I peeped in, a young man called out, “Come on in.”
“You must be Jenny,” said his companion as I entered.
“Um. Yes, I’m Jenny, here for the interview.”
“I’m Nick. This is Will. We are two of the three principals that make up New Perspective Films. …Won’t you sit down?” he asked.
“Could I get you some tea? …Herbal? Or green?” asked Will.
“Um. Maybe not.” Why was I so nervous? I had nothing at stake here. I didn’t even know that I wanted this job. …Then I realized that I was concerned about their expectations. They probably had unrealistic expectations that I could not fulfill. It’s funny, all the different ways you can worry about what other people might be thinking.
“Well… Perhaps we should get down to business then,” said Nick. “We’ve been commissioned, by a rather generous film patron, to produce what might be called an Easter passion play. You have an image of what an Easter passion play is? …Well, in this case our project sponsor wants this story to have …a heroine. The lead role would be female rather than male. Um…”
“We’re considering you for the role of …the daughter of god,” said Will. “You would undergo the kind of …um …events that are conventionally part of an Easter passion play. You have a friend, Steve, who sometimes does a little part time work with us, and he says that you’d be really good for the part.”
Now the pieces were falling into place. In recommending me, Steve must have had in mind some high school incidents that I need not discuss here; I’ve written about at least one of them elsewhere. “Are you saying that I would have the role of being… um… like, whipped and crucified?”
“Yes. Yes, that’s it exactly. You would have the lead role,” replied Will. Both guys seemed appreciative that I had provided the needed graphic description.
I wondered why it should happen that such an unconventional idea as a female in such a role should have come up twice on the same day in completely unrelated contexts. Are such things really random coincidences, or is there more to it? Notwithstanding what little I’ve read about quantum mechanics and cosmology, is anything actually random? Some religions, Eastern and Western, think not.
“We intend to place the situation in contemporary times, but the idea is the same as a traditional Easter passion play,” said Nick.
“But people don’t get crucified now-a-days,” I answered.
“Hey, whatever. On film anything can happen. And besides, a while ago I read that there was a death-row inmate in Florida who was having delusions of being Jesus Christ. Since they don’t execute crazy people, they had to postpone his execution. So one of the state legislators, annoyed by the delay, suggested that they crucify him instead.”
I laughed. …I had to admit that this whole thing was captivatingly offbeat. But was it something I actually could do? “What kind of acting experience do you think I have? Do you know I’ve only had minor parts in a couple of high school plays?”
“Not to worry. You won’t have all that many lines. This is an action film. This isn’t gonna be My Dinner with Andre.”
“Well… Yes, I’m interested.” When they described the pay, I got even more interested. It was a lot more than I had gotten in any of the little grunt-level jobs that are the whole of my job experience. It was flattering that someone could think I was worth that much. And this was professional experience, not clerical experience, even if it was in a profession I was not necessarily interested in pursuing.
“Um…. There is one more item of concern, for us to evaluate whether you’re the right person for the job,” said Nick, glancing down at my body. “Steve thought you were in good shape, physically. And obviously that’s really important in this role. Um… But… Uh… It’s sort of hard for us to tell for sure. Um… well… You know, I hate to impose on you like this. But, uh… would you mind, like… uh…”
Finally I said, “You need me to take some clothes off? Is that what you’re getting at?”
“Yeah. That’s it exactly. Thanks for understanding.”
I hesitated. Clearly this job was going to involve being scantily dressed …if that much. Did I really want to do that? Could I bring myself to do that? Hung on a cross that way. …The whipping was worrisome too. It might be done symbolically. Or it might be done realistically …and hurt. Something in me was saying no, no, no. …But something else in me was saying yes, give this opportunity a try.
I glanced at Nick and Will. They kept silent, seeming to understand that I needed to work this through, and giving me the space to do so. They weren’t aggressive or controlling. Quite the opposite. …I basically trusted them. It seemed like it might be fun working with them.
Finally, I replied, “Okay,” and stood up. I knew I was in fairly good shape. I regularly do some running and tai chi. Two summers ago I even participated in a triathlon (although I don’t know that I’ll ever do it again). I have always been into dance. And since I don’t have a car, I put a lot of milage on bike or on foot. Also I’m careful about what I eat… er, well, I try to be careful.
Good physical condition notwithstanding, I wondered if my overall build would fit their preferences. …But they could already see what my body type was. Women don’t have to take their clothes off to tell that.
“Could you move in front of the blank screen background over here? Will is going to videotape this. We need to see you from the film perspective. And please understand that this is not for our amusement. It’s simply one of the tasks needed to evaluate a person for this kind of role.”
Will added, “We’re also trying to get a feeling for how you move, how your body language can mesh with the role. So think of yourself as your film character. You’d have the grace and power of someone who will be revered forever, somebody like Joan of Arc. That’s the kind of person you are now.”
Although I had a lump in my throat and butterflies in my stomach, I took a deep breath and tried to center myself, placing my concentration at the body’s center of gravity, a little below the belly button. It seemed fortuitous that most of what I was wearing could be slipped out of gracefully: a zippered sweater, buttoned blouse, short skirt, panties, and Birkenstock sandals.
I stepped to the screen, and turned to face them. In retrospect, I suspect that I didn’t look as shaky as I felt. Flicking my hair back with a toss of my head, I unzipped my sweater, slipped it off, paused, and dropped it to the floor.
I wore no bra under my blouse, so the next step involved some uncertainty. I wasn’t sure how much they felt they needed to see. I didn’t want to do something in bad taste. And I’ll freely admit that I really didn’t want to have to bare myself in front of them. But I didn’t want to say anything that revealed how much anxiety I had about taking my clothes off either.
I resolved this by slowly unbuttoning my blouse, opening it enough to reveal that I wore no bra, but not enough to reveal my breasts. As if in some performance, I asked with a bold aloofness that I didn’t actually feel, “Do you wish me to proceed?”
Immediately catching the spirit, and relishing an opportunity to ham it up, Nick replied in an outlandishly imperious manner, “I command you to proceed.”
Trying to maintain a composed and aloof demeanor, I slipped off my blouse and dropped it to the floor. I could hear Will breathe, “My god, you’re super.”
I felt a bit more confident. To draw out the moment, I brought my hands up behind my neck and combed my fingers out through my hair. It was so weird. In front of this camera, maybe I didn’t feel like the docile and unassuming Jenny. Maybe here I could be someone else entirely.
I kicked off my sandals, then loosened my skirt, and let it drop to the floor. My panties followed, although perhaps not so gracefully. I stood before them naked. Feeling a little awkward, and not knowing quite what to do with my hands, I raised my arms as if in a ballet, brought them straight out to the sides, tipped my head slightly back, closed my eyes, and held this crucified pose for a few moments.
“You’re the right person for the job,” Nick spoke up.
“I agree,” said Will, grinning. “She’s got it all. You know, I think this is going to be a project where you get paid well for having a lot of fun. And…”
He paused listening to the sound of someone bounding up the stairs. I was completely naked. Panic! As this barrel-shaped guy burst in, I tried as best I could to cover my breasts with one hand and pussy with the other.
“Am I late? …Oh, excuse me. Are you Jenny? I’m Karl, one of the principals of this firm.” He held out a hand to me. I stared at it dumbly for a moment, before uncovering my breasts so that I could offer my hand in return.
“Hey, it’s okay Jenny. He’s making the film with us, right?” said Will, and to Karl he said, “Just check out the tape. She’s actually not in the least awkward – except when charged by a bull.”
Karl laughed and went over to play the tape. I quickly put my panties on. I was putting my skirt on when Nick said, “Well, now that you’ve got the job, there’s one more thing we ought to try to do today, before you leave. This is a physically demanding role, and we need to start right away getting you in shape for it, as well as getting our techniques in order. For you, the toughest parts will probably be the whippings. So we’d like to spend an hour or so today working on that. So maybe there’s no need to get dressed any further.”
“So let’s see what we’ve got here,” said Will, going over to a long box on the floor, and beginning to open it. “This is the stuff we ordered off the Internet. Just arrived this noon. Let’s check out the goodies.”
I stood by, wearing only my skirt, arms folded across my chest, as Will began to pull various whips out of the box. A multi-thong, suede flogger. A riding crop. A thin rattan cane. A long-handled, thin, single-thong horsewhip. A shorter, single-thong whip. I was getting worried. How much was I going to have to take? Had he even gotten to the bottom of the box yet?
“Hey, cool stuff!” said Nick. “Ready to try these out, Jenny?” Then, noticing my anxiety, he quickly added, “Hey, not to worry. This stuff is all designed for people. It’s not supposed to mess you up.”
“Well… maybe. But I’m the one who’s going to feel it.”
“Yes, that’s true,” said Will, sympathetically. “You are the one who will feel it.”
“It’s okay. Let’s just get on with it. I can probably get through okay. I already agreed that I wanted the job.”
“I suggest we start on her ass until we all get the feel for this stuff,” suggested Nick. “So how about if you bend over the desk, and we’ll have a few licks with these – get you warmed up, and us too.”
I bent over the desk and held onto the opposite edge. While Karl set up a couple of cameras and started them running, Will raised my skirt, removed my panties, and gave me a pat of encouragement on the backside.
Nick was on one side, brandishing the suede flogger, and Will on the other with the short whip. “Ready?” asked Nick before he stroked the flogger lightly across my ass, followed by Will with his whip. They alternated strokes, picking up force quickly. It wasn’t long before I was voicing audible gasps with every stroke. “Ooh! …Ah! …Ah! …Oh!”
The three guys rotated in and out, taking turns whipping me over and over with each of the devices. Across my ass, thighs, even my calves, with the flogger, whips, crop, and cane. They each had a different bite, the flogger being the least, and the cane the worst. Gasping, “Ohh! …Ooooh! …Ahhhhh!” Over and over, one after another. They were really laying it on. I was up on tip toe, pushing forward. Tears were forming in my eyes.
Finally, after a series of extraordinarily hard strokes with the cane to the back of the thighs, I finally cried out, “Ooooh! Oh please! Could you let up for a minute? Just for a minute? You’re hurting me so much.”
“Oops… Sorry. Are you okay? We sort of lost track of what we were doing. We were just supposed to be warming up a little,” said Karl.
“I’m sorry, Jenny. We just got carried away with you. What can we do to make it feel better?” asked Will. As I lay across the desk catching my breath, I felt his lips gently kissing my ass cheeks. The kisses gradually moved down my thighs, and then back up. I just lay there, eyes closed, absorbing the caressing touch of his lips. It was exquisite. How one’s reality can change from one moment to the next. “Don’t stop,” I purred. Nick then joined in gently caressing my whipped ass.
“Just relax there for a few minutes, while we figure out some ways we can bind you up for the regular whipping scene,” said Karl, clasping my hand for a moment.
“I kind of like the idea of her facing outward from a pillar, arms up, wrists bound to the pillar back behind her head,” said Will. “That way the tits are like, so… you know, like right there, so vulnerable. …Er, I mean breasts. …Do you mind if we say ‘tits’, Jenny, or should we say ‘breasts’?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, finally rousing my body off the desk, and standing. “I usually think ‘tits’ is sort of crude, but maybe it doesn’t really matter one way or the other. Do guys really like the word ‘tits’ better?”
“You know, you’re a really sweet girl,” said Nick. “You’re a really nice person to work with.”
“And you’ve got really sweet breasts too,” said Will.
I gave him a caustic look, and folded my arms across my bare breasts. Karl also frowned at him.
“Oh. Sorry. Sorry, Jenny. I know better than to make workplace comments like that. It just sort of slipped out. …And you don’t need to cover your breasts. I won’t even look at them. I promise.” As he looked into my eyes, he gave me this disarmingly goofy grin.
Slowly I brought my arms down. Within about three seconds his eyes were riveted to my breasts, but I chose to ignore him.
“Well, Jenny, are you about ready to try these handcuffs on?” As I held my wrists out in front of me, Karl applied some leather handcuffs. “This room has no pillars, so how about if you back up to the wall here, put your hands behind your head, and I’ll fasten the cuffs to the hook here,” indicating a coat hook a little above my head.
“I guess you don’t really need a skirt on at this point, if you have no objections,” said Nick, as he loosened it and let it drop to the floor. There I was, bound, helpless, completely naked, facing three guys bent on whipping me. Nick picked up that awful cane. Was he going to hit me on the breasts with it?
“I think the flogger and whips are probably better for hitting her on the front,” said Karl. “I don’t know about hitting her with that cane. I’m not sure that it’s wise to hit a girl’s breasts with something that hard. The thongs of the whips are softer, more flexible. The sting stays on the surface of the skin.”
“I vote with Karl,” I spoke up. “Please not on the breasts with that cane.”
“Hey, no problem,” said Nick, tossing the cane back in the box, and picking up the short single-thong whip. Swish…thack! He lashed it across my stomach, at the level of the belly button. I gasped. Swish…thack! Across the hips. Swish…thack! The ribs. I gasped with every stroke, but tried not to cry out.
He whipped me over and over, thighs, hips, stomach, ribs. But not too many on the breasts, and none to the nipples, thank heavens.
Then Karl took up the multi-thonged flogger and took his turn. He took hold behind my knee with one hand, lifted my leg to the side, and proceeded to whip the inside of my thigh with it. Then he worked the inside of the other thigh. Finally he lashed my pussy. “Oooooh!” Then another. “Ohhhhhh!” And another. “Ahhhhhh!” Then still more. And more. Couldn’t he realize how that felt? But he kept doing it until finally I had to cry out, “Please, my pussy! No more! Please!”
He immediately relented, releasing my leg. “Just checking your limits. I was being to wonder…”
Now he worked the flogger up my stomach and then to the ribs. Stroke after stroke. And finally, inevitably, he began to lash me across the breasts. “Ohhh!” And another. And another. Over and over. I was gasping, “Ahh! …Ohh! …Oooh! …My nipples!”
Finally Karl left off, and Will started in, this time with the long, thin, single-thong horsewhip. Beginning low across my hips, he worked his way upwards across the midsection, then the ribs, stroke after stroke. It had an awesome sound and a biting sting. Whsssssst …thack! “Ooooh!” …Whsssssst …thack! “Ahhhh!” …Whssssst …thack! “Ohhhh!”
Then it was across the breasts. Over and over. So many of them right on the nipples. Whsssssst …thack! “Ohhhhhhh!” …Whssssssst …thack! “Ooooooh!” …Whssssssst…thack! “Ohh! My nipples!” …Whsssssst …thack! “Ahhhhhhhh!”
After a while I was dimly aware of Karl saying, “You know, the problem with this pose is that she doesn’t have enough freedom of movement. She really needs to be able to twist and jerk in response to the whip, so that her tits will jiggle. If her tits don’t jiggle, we might as well be taking snapshots, not shooting a movie. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah. You’re right. We need to give her more tit jiggle.”
“I think it’s time to stop,” said Karl, interposing himself between me and the whip-wielding Will. He gave each of my burning nipples a little kiss before reaching up to release my wrists from their bonds.
“Yeah. That’s enough,” agreed Nick. “She’s taken one hell of a whipping. …Jenny, you’ll be able to handle anything we want to do in the film. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Now freed, I sank to my knees, cradling my well-whipped breasts in my hands. “Oh my tits. My tits,” I gasped, rocking back and forth, holding them.
Will disappeared for a while, then returned, saying, “Here, maybe this will help.” Gently moving my hand out of the way, he applied some kind of creamy salve to my breasts. It had a strong smell, like wintergreen. It felt cooling, soothing. He smoothed it all over my breasts, and spent a long time gently rubbing it on my stiff nipples. Around and around, in little circles on one nipple, then the other. I knew he was enjoying this. And I couldn’t help revealing that I was too.
“Here, lie down and relax,” he suggested. I lay back and stretched my arms above my head, arching my back, presenting my well-whipped breasts, ribs, and midriff to him as he continued to caress me. “Does this feel better?” he asked, and began to kiss my nipples, and gradually move his caressing fingers downward, downward.
“Mmmmmmm…” I murmured. I just wanted more. I had to have more.
“Ah-hem…” interrupted Karl. “Do you two kids think that maybe you could maintain a little more professional demeanor here? I know we have a relaxed, informal atmosphere, but…”
“Oh… My clothes…” I quickly got to my feet, retrieved my panties and put them on, followed by my blouse, skirt, sandals, and sweater.
“You can call it a day, Jenny,” said Karl. “You did a fantastic job today. Uh… Let me think. How about if you come back on Saturday afternoon? Does that time work for you?”
“Yeah. That’s fine.” Except for classes, my calendar was pretty empty. “Is there a script or something I should look at in the meantime?”
“No. Nick’s still working on a draft. And it never will be real detailed. A lot of what we do just sort of happens spontaneously while we’re doing it.”
“So we’ll see you then. You were really super today,” said Nick, as Will escorted me to the door.
At the door, aware that Nick and Karl were watching us, Will and I simply looked into each other’s eyes for a moment and touched hands, before I took my exit.
Back down on the street, I made my way toward my co-op rooming house. As I pondered the strangeness of the events of the previous two hours, I became aware that a lot of people were staring at my legs. I glanced down. Although they were starting to fade, the whip marks were still quite visible on my calves and thighs below my short shirt. I realized that the guys were leering at me! I started feeling really uncomfortable.
A guy and a girl, holding hands, were approaching on the other side of the sidewalk. Grinning ecstatically, he was staring at my legs, breathing, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
All of a sudden the girl hauled off and slapped him hard across the face. “Asshole!” she screeched at him. Then she glared at me with such venomous malice. I winced as I hurried past. I was utterly mortified. …Or was I? Was there some part of me that was secretly thrilled?
I managed to make it back to my room without any more major incidents. It was such a relief to close the door behind me. As I leaned against the door, breathing deeply, I realized how tired I was.
I crawled into bed. As I lay there, I wondered how many lashes I had received this afternoon. On the pussy, a limited number, probably less than ten. But elsewhere, on the ass, the legs, the midsection, ribs, and breasts, there was no telling how many I had received. My nipples. How could they have hit me so many times on those two points?
Tired as I was, I still couldn’t really relax. There was a gnawing feeling in my pussy that was not going to let me go until it got its satisfaction. I began to stimulate myself, one hand at my clit, the other hand at a nipple. The pleasure. It pulled me on relentlessly. Building… Building… Until the orgasmic power came in as big, breaking rollers, crashing onto a beach. As the waves crested, I gasped, “Oooooh. …Ahhhhhh. …Ahhhhhh.” How is it that these utterances should have such kinship with those I voice in response to the whip?
End Part 1 of 3. Part 2 coming tomorrow! (happy Easter)
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