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A Refinement In Humiliation?

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they have take all from me...
First my freedom...
Then strip me naked along with my dignity...
Even my bodily functions as a massive plug fills my bowels...
They sheared my head...
View attachment 240035
and now I kneel ...
restrained...
silenced...
waiting for my execution...
View attachment 240034
I've nothing left...
I embrace my death...

T

Comes close to being poetic Tree :rolleyes::p:D
 
they have take all from me...
First my freedom...
They sheared my head...
View attachment 240035
and now I kneel ...
waiting for my execution...
View attachment 240034
I've nothing left...
T
You've highlighted an interesting aspect here - hair is not just about the looks of the person being crucified, but the link to identity and that experience is quite powerful to both the viewed and the viewer.
 
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But I admit that my hair is something I'm a bit vain about...and I suppose part of my cruxifixion fantasies is that I 'look nice' on the cross....
And for many observers including myself, a crucified lady's locks are cherished! After a long struggle attached to the timber - naked, sweaty and with head bowed, energy waning - her tousled hair draped over shoulders and chest add an element of peacefulness - complete surrender. In the purest sense (for me) this is a consensual, intentional act shared by the victim, those who brought her to this state, and the host of adoring witnesses. Tomorrow she likely returns refreshed to a much different existence....until next time she greets the cross. Cheers for your vanity, Eulalia!
 
You've highlighted an interesting aspect here - hair is not just about the looks of the person being crucified, but the link to identity and that experience is quite powerful to both the viewed and the viewer.
Very true, that it is an important part of the identity. To hack away my hair, would be a little like cutting the string of a puppet, I feel I would collapse.
For almost all of my life I have worn my hair long, or longer, or really long. When the most intent of my punishment is humiliation of my person, I must expect it to be cut. But when the most intent is public spectacle, I would hope to be permitted to throw it around ;) Each attempt, to hide myself behind it, would naturally be punished.
 
Good, this has nothing to do with crucifixions. But for those, who are perhaps interested in practical inspirations from the times when such things were well established, here is a resource with instructions for recreating historical Greek, Roman and other hairstylings. https://www.youtube.com/user/jntvstp?feature=watch , or, in detail, the attempted reconstruction of the style of the Vestals, http://www.livescience.com/26112-oldest-roman-hairstyle-recreated.html
Of course, removing ripping elaborate costume, and undoing (or, hacking away) sophisticated hairstyles can be a great part of the humiliation of the crux. So first you need to have it, to lose it ;)
 
Thanks for that link, Malins - I'm going to copy into our 'roman Resources' thread.
 
Ladies, I'm curious (and not just in the sexual sense - I passed that milestone some time ago!).

How would you feel if, as an added element of humiliation, forced depilation were part of the flogging and crucifixion process? And I don't just mean Darprincess69's favourite use of the razor, it's application to the pussy. No, I mean the whole head.

What would go through your mind if, just before being tied to the whipping post for your flogging, you were forced to kneel and, in front of the whole baying crowd, shears and a razor were used to make you totally bald?

For me, I think it would be a complete mind-fuck, but given what's about to happen, should it be such a big deal?

Love to know your thoughts!

Haircut bald woman against her will is undoubtedly one of the deepest humiliation. Yes, I can imagine it. I was dragged naked into the arena and tied by pillar, it could be whipped. Between strokes of the whip my hair trimmed. With a final stroke my head bald as a knee. Then I am placed tattered back to the cross. Scream in pain as the nails penetrate my wrists. Lying full of pain with arms outstretched and feel how they get rid of hair in the my pubic landscape. They continue nailing my feet. Finally, I have a few lashes across the chest. Cross rises and for a moment I hang helplessly exposed to the admiration of the audience. Lascivious glances of men and sadistic gleam in the eyes of women ...
 
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