Cam's Camera: Slave Girls

[bobinder]

The queen and the slave

Cleopatra VII Philopator, Queen of Egypt, and a slavegirl imported from Nubia.

The original image with Cleopatra is by narkonew of DA. The model acting as the slavegirl is Putri. This is a very simple manipulation involving little more than sticking the figure of Putri over the original picture, with only minor adjsutments.

Putri has become a regular model in Kam's manips, and her standing pose makes a charming complement to the reclining Cleopatra in this attractive composition.
The background is an interior scene, filled with ornate furnishings and stone statues, providing a distinctly ancient Egyptian atmosphere.

The background source by Narkonew dates from 2010, and is composed of 3D elements which were made available on DeviantArt by 3DigitalStock in 2006. The figure of Cleopatra may be a photographic component - certainly her features appear to be highly realistic. If this is the case, she has been photo-manipulated into the scene, which might explain why she looks slightly small upon her very large chaise longue.

Kam has inserted Putri between the statue of Anubis and the couch, exploiting a sense of depth whilst bringing her close enough for examination by the young queen.
Her feet are concealed, and so there is no need to provide a shadow where they meet the floor.

As Jolly has remarked, the character interaction ensures that Cleopatra is now looking at her new slave. Putri is in scale with the figure of Cleopatra, the colour saturation is comfortably matched between the two figures and the ambient lighting appears to be consistent. Putri's pose includes one straight leg plus a slightly bent knee, reflecting the pose of the reclining figure, and perhaps most significantly, she is presented in profile, emulating the characteristic style of the ancient Egyptian artists, whose work can be seen in the wall decorations. Congratulations on another beautiful example of your work, Kam!

 

[Eulalia]

I notice Putri's modestly lowered eyes, parted lips, lifted breasts - a natural slavegirl, knowing instinctively how she must present herself.

 

[CamCrux]

Wasteland trophy
Another collaboration with @sclava, inspired by the world of Fallout for a change, with Mango A / Katya Clover as the unfortunate captive.


Dead Wasteland. Through the thickness of the radiation-scorched earth rose the dead remains of trees and grass. Sparse, radioactive, mutated greenery broke through here and there. Here and there stood monuments to the ancient pre-war civilization that was fading into the past.
Everything around me looked as ordinary as usual. Everything was ordinary, except for me, completely naked, walking across the scraped old asphalt behind a girl dressed in strange clothes and holding an unusual weapon that looked like a long machete.
I walked, unable to believe what had happened, and now and then gently touched the strange thing hanging from my neck with my fingers, squeezing it slightly. I wasn't tied in ropes and I wasn't bound, but what hung around my neck was many times stronger than they were, giving me no chance of escape.
"Continue to keep up with me," my captor snarled at me. "You remember what's in the collar? You don't want your head to burst like a fresh mutafrut, do you ?" The girl laughed at her own joke.
"I'm coming, I'm coming, mistress," I whispered glancing at the small bag hanging over the girl's shoulders. It contained all my clothes and belongings. How stupid of me. Even if my collar didn't go off, would I even survive naked in this wasteland for twenty-four hours ? Of course not, I'd probably end up in the stomach of some low-life monster. No, I had no choice but to follow her into the unknown.
Suddenly the girl stopped, and I almost bumped into her back. "There's my Michael!" she said.
I turned to where she was looking and saw a man walking toward us.
We turned off the road and approached a tree.
"Kneel !" she yelled, and I slowly got down on my knees.
"You don't come back without a trophy !" said the man, laughing and pleased, as he approached.
"No, I don't !" She laughed. "How are our people doing ?"
"Don't ask. Things haven't been very good lately. Most of them come back empty-handed," the man sighed. "The folk don't come out of the settlements much these days, and if they do, they come out with guards. But it's not all bad. The digging under that vault is about to be finished, so the cells are about to overflow with fresh slaves from the vault."
Hearing this, I freaked out and stared at my captor in awe.
"Good news !" she said.
"Handsome bitch," the man nodded at me. "Hmm...Her skin is so...delicate...Is she from the vault?"
I shuddered and lowered my head.
The girl shrugged. "She wasn't wearing a vault jumpsuit. I happened to notice her walking in the wreckage of Tovac. I had to run after her a bit, I must say. She's a vivacious one until I put a collar on her."
"Didn't your mother teach you not to walk alone in the ruins ?" the man remarked sarcastically, and they both laughed.
"Whatever. Anyway, her friends will be joining her soon. The main thing is she's good stuff..." said the girl.
"We must try her out before we can put a price on her," said the man.
"Huh... You don't change. Then what the hell are you standing there for? I'll take a good look at her things in the meantime," said the girl, and then the three of us went to the tree.

 

[FrankO]

Wasteland trophy
Another collaboration with @sclava, inspired by the world of Fallout for a change,

"and then the three of us went to the Tree."

Rarely a good idea for ladies around here ... Just ask Barb.

 

[bobinder]

Wasteland trophy
Another collaboration with @sclava, inspired by the world of Fallout for a change, with Mango A / Katya Clover as the unfortunate captive.


Dead Wasteland. Through the thickness of the radiation-scorched earth rose the dead remains of trees and grass. Sparse, radioactive, mutated greenery broke through here and there. Here and there stood monuments to the ancient pre-war civilization that was fading into the past.
Everything around me looked as ordinary as usual. Everything was ordinary, except for me, completely naked, walking across the scraped old asphalt behind a girl dressed in strange clothes and holding an unusual weapon that looked like a long machete.
I walked, unable to believe what had happened, and now and then gently touched the strange thing hanging from my neck with my fingers, squeezing it slightly. I wasn't tied in ropes and I wasn't bound, but what hung around my neck was many times stronger than they were, giving me no chance of escape.
"Continue to keep up with me," my captor snarled at me. "You remember what's in the collar? You don't want your head to burst like a fresh mutafrut, do you ?" The girl laughed at her own joke.
"I'm coming, I'm coming, mistress," I whispered glancing at the small bag hanging over the girl's shoulders. It contained all my clothes and belongings. How stupid of me. Even if my collar didn't go off, would I even survive naked in this wasteland for twenty-four hours ? Of course not, I'd probably end up in the stomach of some low-life monster. No, I had no choice but to follow her into the unknown.
Suddenly the girl stopped, and I almost bumped into her back. "There's my Michael!" she said.
I turned to where she was looking and saw a man walking toward us.
We turned off the road and approached a tree.
"Kneel !" she yelled, and I slowly got down on my knees.
"You don't come back without a trophy !" said the man, laughing and pleased, as he approached.
"No, I don't !" She laughed. "How are our people doing ?"
"Don't ask. Things haven't been very good lately. Most of them come back empty-handed," the man sighed. "The folk don't come out of the settlements much these days, and if they do, they come out with guards. But it's not all bad. The digging under that vault is about to be finished, so the cells are about to overflow with fresh slaves from the vault."
Hearing this, I freaked out and stared at my captor in awe.
"Good news !" she said.
"Handsome bitch," the man nodded at me. "Hmm...Her skin is so...delicate...Is she from the vault?"
I shuddered and lowered my head.
The girl shrugged. "She wasn't wearing a vault jumpsuit. I happened to notice her walking in the wreckage of Tovac. I had to run after her a bit, I must say. She's a vivacious one until I put a collar on her."
"Didn't your mother teach you not to walk alone in the ruins ?" the man remarked sarcastically, and they both laughed.
"Whatever. Anyway, her friends will be joining her soon. The main thing is she's good stuff..." said the girl.
"We must try her out before we can put a price on her," said the man.
"Huh... You don't change. Then what the hell are you standing there for? I'll take a good look at her things in the meantime," said the girl, and then the three of us went to the tree.

Whilst the post-apocalyptic theme appears to be an unusual one for a Kamerijk-Sclava collaboration, we should not overlook the fact that Kam has made occasional visits to the world of Sci-Fi fantasy on DeviantArt, and so perhaps future environments are not entirely alien concepts?

The background is a recognisably terrestrial scene with bare trees and buildings in the distance, and a vehicle which might be serviceable rather than abandoned. The high quality 3D image is from a computer game ('Fallout' presumably) and Sclava's narrative component works as effectively as any of those she has previously set in ancient times.

Katty appears resigned to her fate, whatever that may be. She cannot see the red light illuminated on her futuristic slave collar, but she knows it may be activated at any moment. She is a familiar actress in Kamerijk productions, but this is a whole new experience for her. Figure scale and colour saturation are looking consistent, and I particularly like the way she has been inserted behind the blades of grass.

I do not recognise the origins of the two humanoid figures, but they contain some interesting details, such as the magnetic compass mounted on a shoulder strap. Whilst the only eyes and face we can see are Katty's, the relative location of all three figures ensures a convincing sense of interaction and tense anticipation. Nice work Kam and Sclava!

 

[CamCrux]

Fleeing Bolsheviks, encountering slave traders
A tragic episode in the life or Russian emigrants, narrated by @sclava

"It's a horrible, dirty, disgusting country," my brother, Alexander Odintsov, muttered grumpily as he sat in the carriage, wearily looking out at the deserted landscape outside the window. "How glad I am that we will soon arrive in Alexandria and sail away," he added, turning to his father, who was sitting beside him.
"Why do you always complain, son ?" his father asked. Ever since we emigrated to Cairo, we have borne all the hardships in silence.
He glanced at my sister and me, then turned away and stared out the window again.
"Oh, damned Reds! The Communists destroyed our Empire... If it hadn't been for them, if it hadn't been for the shameful Peace of Brest, we would be celebrating our victory today, along with the other Entente countries. And we would not be sitting here in the backyards of the Ottoman Empire, but drinking tea and watching a parade in Constantinople."
"Don't worry, son. Our allies will soon be finished with the Bolsheviks, and we'll be back home."
"Sooner or later, dear brother, "I interjected,"the Straits will be ours and the Russian Empire...."
Suddenly the carriage stopped abruptly, cutting me off in mid-sentence. We all looked at each other. Alexander immediately ran out of the carriage.
"The coachman... !" he shouted.
"See here !" said my father, and came out after him. We both sat and shook, afraid to even look out of the window, listening to some strange speech outside. Soon the door swung open, and we both cried out. The coachman was standing outside.
"Go to that carriage, ladies," he said.
"How dare you speak to a lady!" said I, summoning up my courage, but in a trembling voice, and then I added, "Where is father? Where is my brother?"
"We must go to England," my sister added.
-"Don't ask too many questions, young ladies. It's a matter of life and death for you !" replied the coachman.
When we heard this, we held hands and got out of the carriage. Around us stood a host of camel riders, a few donkeys, and a covered coach. The coachman wanted to take us by the hand, but we wouldn't let him, saying we would go by ourselves. He escorted us to the tent under the stares of many bearded men.
"We want to know what's going on! Where..." said my sister to the man at the tent, but before she could finish, we were unceremoniously grabbed and lifted off the ground and practically thrown into a tent full of many black Abyssinian women.
As I stared at the girls in horror, I could barely utter a word. The last words I heard were in terrible Turkish, talking about plans to go either to Hijaz or to Libya.
It was a long journey from there. Despite the terrible heat, it was more or less fine inside the kibitka. My sister tried to talk to the black women, but we realized none of them understood English, Turkish, much less Russian. Sometimes we stopped and were allowed to go outside and were given water and so on. Surprisingly, we were hardly ever guarded. Of course, neither I nor my sister even thought of fleeing into the desert, where we would surely die.
Soon we arrived at a small, delightful oasis, in which by a great number of people had gathered. My sister and I were grabbed and led to a small group of men. The men were saying something that we didn't understand at all. They spun us around, forced us to bend over, kicked us, spread our legs wider, and then ripped off our clothes. My sister collapsed on the hot sand in horror, and I lowered my head in humiliation, staring at my chest trembling with nervous breathing. I could barely hold back the tears, not understanding what was happening or why we were being treated so horribly.
Finally one of the men sitting there waved his hand at the two horses and three camels that were standing nearby. The men holding us shook their heads cheerfully. We were quickly wrapped in blankets, and the one holding me said in awful Turkish, leading us to the bearded man sitting there : "Sold. You are both his slaves."
The man smiled as he sucked on his hookah, then called out to a girl and said something to her. She waved at us, and we had no choice but to follow her into a nearby tent.

 

[bobinder]

Fleeing Bolsheviks, encountering slave traders
A tragic episode in the life or Russian emigrants, narrated by @sclava

"It's a horrible, dirty, disgusting country," my brother, Alexander Odintsov, muttered grumpily as he sat in the carriage, wearily looking out at the deserted landscape outside the window. "How glad I am that we will soon arrive in Alexandria and sail away," he added, turning to his father, who was sitting beside him.
"Why do you always complain, son ?" his father asked. Ever since we emigrated to Cairo, we have borne all the hardships in silence.
He glanced at my sister and me, then turned away and stared out the window again.
"Oh, damned Reds! The Communists destroyed our Empire... If it hadn't been for them, if it hadn't been for the shameful Peace of Brest, we would be celebrating our victory today, along with the other Entente countries. And we would not be sitting here in the backyards of the Ottoman Empire, but drinking tea and watching a parade in Constantinople."
"Don't worry, son. Our allies will soon be finished with the Bolsheviks, and we'll be back home."
"Sooner or later, dear brother, "I interjected,"the Straits will be ours and the Russian Empire...."
Suddenly the carriage stopped abruptly, cutting me off in mid-sentence. We all looked at each other. Alexander immediately ran out of the carriage.
"The coachman... !" he shouted.
"See here !" said my father, and came out after him. We both sat and shook, afraid to even look out of the window, listening to some strange speech outside. Soon the door swung open, and we both cried out. The coachman was standing outside.
"Go to that carriage, ladies," he said.
"How dare you speak to a lady!" said I, summoning up my courage, but in a trembling voice, and then I added, "Where is father? Where is my brother?"
"We must go to England," my sister added.
-"Don't ask too many questions, young ladies. It's a matter of life and death for you !" replied the coachman.
When we heard this, we held hands and got out of the carriage. Around us stood a host of camel riders, a few donkeys, and a covered coach. The coachman wanted to take us by the hand, but we wouldn't let him, saying we would go by ourselves. He escorted us to the tent under the stares of many bearded men.
"We want to know what's going on! Where..." said my sister to the man at the tent, but before she could finish, we were unceremoniously grabbed and lifted off the ground and practically thrown into a tent full of many black Abyssinian women.
As I stared at the girls in horror, I could barely utter a word. The last words I heard were in terrible Turkish, talking about plans to go either to Hijaz or to Libya.
It was a long journey from there. Despite the terrible heat, it was more or less fine inside the kibitka. My sister tried to talk to the black women, but we realized none of them understood English, Turkish, much less Russian. Sometimes we stopped and were allowed to go outside and were given water and so on. Surprisingly, we were hardly ever guarded. Of course, neither I nor my sister even thought of fleeing into the desert, where we would surely die.
Soon we arrived at a small, delightful oasis, in which by a great number of people had gathered. My sister and I were grabbed and led to a small group of men. The men were saying something that we didn't understand at all. They spun us around, forced us to bend over, kicked us, spread our legs wider, and then ripped off our clothes. My sister collapsed on the hot sand in horror, and I lowered my head in humiliation, staring at my chest trembling with nervous breathing. I could barely hold back the tears, not understanding what was happening or why we were being treated so horribly.
Finally one of the men sitting there waved his hand at the two horses and three camels that were standing nearby. The men holding us shook their heads cheerfully. We were quickly wrapped in blankets, and the one holding me said in awful Turkish, leading us to the bearded man sitting there : "Sold. You are both his slaves."
The man smiled as he sucked on his hookah, then called out to a girl and said something to her. She waved at us, and we had no choice but to follow her into a nearby tent.

The latest collaboration between Kam and @sclava is inspired by a slavers scene by the Orientalist painter, Otto Pilny. Pilny has provided backgrounds for earlier slave girl-themed manips on Cruxforums, but I cannot immediately find a previous example by Kam, and so this might be his first manipulation of this artist? In common with his recent Sclava collaborations, the new story and picture are presented as a Cruxforums exclusive, and not published simultaneously on DeviantArt.

Sclava's narration follows the misfortunes of the Russian emigrants who are captured by Ottoman slave traders. The historical setting of a hundred years ago resonates with current events, in which a collective human experience includes the disorientating effects of conflict and social instability on the world's stage. The two girls understand that they have lost their family and become enslaved through circumstances beyond their control. And beyond this, the ensuing events are mysteriously characterised by 'no choice but to follow... into a nearby tent.'

Pilny's painting has probably supplied inspiration in equal measure to both writer and photo manipulator, and the only change from the original involves the two girls. Pilny painted more than one variation of the scene, and in this version he used a clothed, kneeling figure on the left and a partially clothed, standing figure on the right. Kam has replaced both by the insertion of nude females, one seated and one standing, effectively concealing the originals. A certain amount of extra clothing fabric has also been applied to the male figures to ensure a convincing blend in the layers beneath the nudes.

The original picture conveys an atmosphere of distrust. The men on both sides are armed, and even the man relaxing with the hookah keeps a pistol concealed beneath his left sleeve. The low resolution tends to obscure the fine details, such as the bowl of food, and the weave of colourful fabrics, contrasting with the largely uniform expanse of yellow sand. The manipulation work has been carried out in relatively low resolution, and so I shall not attempt to identify the models. Character interaction between the painted and photographic figures is commendably good, and where we can see them, the feet sink convincingly into the sand. Kam has developed a fine control of colour saturation and an appreciation of consistent lighting conditions, making this yet another successful collaboration. Nice work, both!

 

[CamCrux]

In common with his recent Sclava collaborations, the new story and picture are presented as a Cruxforums exclusive, and not published simultaneously on DeviantArt.

Thanks Bob, I really appreciate your support and comments.
This picture and story were not meant to be "exclusive to CF" actually (although this has been the case in the past), but I waited for sclava's agreement to publish it on DA.

 

[CamCrux]

The manipulation work has been carried out in relatively low resolution, and so I shall not attempt to identify the models.

An oversight on my part : sititing is Cierra - Etna - Bogdana (etc.) and standing is Jasmine A - Karmen - Clio

 

[Nobbes25]

Now i siting here and musst be waiting for somethinks.



I have a idea!
I open the irons myself and run away!



Mhhhh, i have a problem, there go nothing......, so i musst wait for the next morning. Shit.

 

[CamCrux]

A Favourite Custom

The original painting is by Sir Laurence Alma-Tadema and is dated 1909. It is now kept at the Tate gallery in London.
Here is the Tate's short introduction to the painting :
This scene is set in the baths at Pompeii. In the foreground one woman playfully splashes another bathing in the ‘frigidarium’, a cold bath. The artist based this work on photographs of the ruins of the Stabian baths, revealed by archaeologists in 1824. He has made them more luxurious by adding a marble floor and walls which would more usually have been found in larger imperial baths. This small work attracted enormous success when it was exhibited and bought immediately for the nation.
I have added the figure of Alice Kiss as she is cautiously entering the cold bath to join in the frolicking.
I am much indebted to @bobinder for helping with the size and placing of the figure so that she doesn't appear to float above the ground or to miss a part of her legs.

 

[Jollyrei]

I have added the figure of Alice Kiss as she is cautiously entering the cold bath to join in the frolicking.

That's beautiful work again, Cam. Alice looks like she fits right in with the rest of the girls in the bath. Lighting, colour and texture are very well integrated and nicely adjusted. I think she adds a sense of demure innocence to just subtly adjust the mood of the painting from just frivolous play by the two painted girls, to something with a bit more emotional depth, but that might just be me. Anyway, I very much like it.

And I'm sure you've made Bob very happy by adding to the library of images that feature Alice here at CF.

 

[bobinder]

A Favourite Custom

The original painting is by Sir Laurence Alma-Tadema and is dated 1909. It is now kept at the Tate gallery in London.
Here is the Tate's short introduction to the painting :
This scene is set in the baths at Pompeii. In the foreground one woman playfully splashes another bathing in the ‘frigidarium’, a cold bath. The artist based this work on photographs of the ruins of the Stabian baths, revealed by archaeologists in 1824. He has made them more luxurious by adding a marble floor and walls which would more usually have been found in larger imperial baths. This small work attracted enormous success when it was exhibited and bought immediately for the nation.
I have added the figure of Alice Kiss as she is cautiously entering the cold bath to join in the frolicking.
I am much indebted to @bobinder for helping with the size and placing of the figure so that she doesn't appear to float above the ground or to miss a part of her legs.

That's beautiful work again, Cam. Alice looks like she fits right in with the rest of the girls in the bath. Lighting, colour and texture are very well integrated and nicely adjusted. I think she adds a sense of demure innocence to just subtly adjust the mood of the painting from just frivolous play by the two painted girls, to something with a bit more emotional depth, but that might just be me. Anyway, I very much like it.

And I'm sure you've made Bob very happy by adding to the library of images that feature Alice here at CF.

It is interesting to note that Alma-Tadema did not attempt to show a bather entering the pool, and the central, middle distance area of the painting is devoid of any human figures. Since he was interpreting photographs of the ruins, painting from imagination, and bringing the scene to life, the empty space seems like a missed opportunity.

By depicting clear water, the artist was able to reveal the pool's marble steps, walls and floor, as well as revealing the forms of the nude bathers. He seems to have made a convincing attempt at showing refraction in the water, and this, together with the questions of depth and relative scale, presents a considerable challenge when inserting new figures.

Kam's manipulation concept has achieved a high degree of success, using a figure source from Femjoy's 'Survivor' series, in which Alice's feet are cropped out. Whilst this is an outdoor series, Alice was photographed in the shade, which provides the ambient lighting appropriate for an indoor scene.

The pose is a good choice, since now she looks down into the pool, whilst drawing her hair back over her shoulders, suggesting that she will tie it up as she descends the steps. The new figure has been neatly blended with a subtle colour adjustment to match the painted nudes, and with some delicate painting to produce the slight wave movement around Alice's thighs, consistent with Alma-Tadema's treatment of the water surface.

The apparent simplicity of the composition is deceptive and so convincing that the various considerations taken into account are hardly obvious in the final result. Connoisseurs of Alice manipulations will be pleased to see this charming addition to her Pompeii collection, which consists of illustrations for Velut Luna's 'Amica'. Well done, Kam.

 

[Naraku]

Excellent work. If you hadn't said anything, I would have thought Alice was part of the original work.

 

[CamCrux]

Rando's Daughter

She hadn't believed Maximus, the Roman general, when he had told her he could sell her as a slave.

"I could get a good price for you in the slave market at Treverorum," he had said. "On the other hand, you would fetch more If I sent you south to Rome. They pay twenti solidii now for an unskilled woman." She had flushed at the insult. But he had gone on : "There is a demand for white-skinned girls there. And then again, you would fetch a better price still in Mauretania... Or I might keep you for myself. I could do with a woman in my house; and I shall need servants when I retire from the army to my villa."

It was all bluff, she thought. After all, she was a daughter of Rando, king of the Alemanni. And they were not at war, she told him, so she could not be a slave. But he had replied : "So you know our law, do you ? You are a clever girl. Yet you are wrong. Yours is a race with whom we now have no friendship and no hospitality. If you capture a citizen of ours he is your slave, as your are mine."

Maybe she shouldn't have threatened to kill him when he was asleep and escape, when he had said he might keep her for himself. He had only smiled.

And now here she was, a naked and collared flaxen-haired, blue-eyed girl about to be sold off in a faraway place called Tingis in Mauretania.

After Eagle in the Snow by Wallace Breem, Phoenix press, p. 167 (adapted)

 

[Jollyrei]

And now here she was, a naked and collared flaxen-haired, blue-eyed girl about to be sold off in a faraway place called Tingis in Mauretania.

Well, that certainly isn't going to improve relations between Rome and King Rando, is it?

Lovely work again, Cam.

 

[bobinder]

Rando's Daughter

She hadn't believed Maximus, the Roman general, when he had told her he could sell her as a slave.

​

It is great to see a new manip from Kam, and the four month interval has been worth the wait for 'Rando's Daughter'. This picture contains some familiar, stylistic devices, particularly in the composition, which indicates receding depth through the decreasing scale of the figures from left to right. The tethered camel is quite a large creature, and I cannot tell if this is part of the original background, or an added component. The bright sunlight is certainly suggestive of the Roman province of Mauretania, and the figures have been placed in accordance with the lighting direction.

The Princess of the Alemanni is portrayed by a model I am unable to identify. She stands in the foreground shadows, adorned only by the collar and bracelet, which are separate additions to the figure. The girl in the centre has previously appeared in one of Kam's slave market scenes, using a background painted by Gerome. Her collar is also a separate detail, in the same style as that of the third girl, who might possibly be Lana G - I expect Kam will assist with positive identifications for all three.

The background story is one of a privileged woman whose circumstances are suddenly changed, as she experiences the opposite end of the social spectrum, removed from her home and family. Her pose and expression have been ably exploited to portray a sense of disorientation. No doubt, her new friends will help her to settle into her new life in a strange land. Nice work, and welcome back. Kam!

 

[Deleted member 38673 (BobbieBound)]

Now i siting here and musst be waiting for somethinks.

View attachment 1263767 View attachment 1263768

I have a idea!
I open the irons myself and run away!

View attachment 1263769

Mhhhh, i have a problem, there go nothing......, so i musst wait for the next morning. Shit.

Now i siting here and musst be waiting for somethinks.

View attachment 1263767 View attachment 1263768

I have a idea!
I open the irons myself and run away!

View attachment 1263769

Mhhhh, i have a problem, there go nothing......, so i musst wait for the next morning. Shit.

I found this to be a very haunting image. The woman waits, not knowing what will be done to her, but having a good idea of what it might be done.

 

[Jollyrei]

Personally, I am very impressed with the lighting and shadow work. It looks remarkably photographic. I'm not sure what your technique is, Cam, but knowing the arguments I have with Photoshop on this, I very much admire your results.

 

[Wragg]

Rando's Daughter

She hadn't believed Maximus, the Roman general, when he had told her he could sell her as a slave.

"I could get a good price for you in the slave market at Treverorum," he had said. "On the other hand, you would fetch more If I sent you south to Rome. They pay twenti solidii now for an unskilled woman." She had flushed at the insult. But he had gone on : "There is a demand for white-skinned girls there. And then again, you would fetch a better price still in Mauretania... Or I might keep you for myself. I could do with a woman in my house; and I shall need servants when I retire from the army to my villa."

It was all bluff, she thought. After all, she was a daughter of Rando, king of the Alemanni. And they were not at war, she told him, so she could not be a slave. But he had replied : "So you know our law, do you ? You are a clever girl. Yet you are wrong. Yours is a race with whom we now have no friendship and no hospitality. If you capture a citizen of ours he is your slave, as your are mine."

Maybe she shouldn't have threatened to kill him when he was asleep and escape, when he had said he might keep her for himself. He had only smiled.

And now here she was, a naked and collared flaxen-haired, blue-eyed girl about to be sold off in a faraway place called Tingis in Mauretania.

After Eagle in the Snow by Wallace Breem, Phoenix press, p. 167 (adapted)

Wonderful, Cam!

Today I've had to look at a girl cut in half by a train, and another having her belly ripped open

Thank you for restoring my faith in Cruxforums!