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Crown Of Thorns: Pictures

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My wrists tied behind my back. The crown cruelly pressed into my scalp. It bites into the skin painfully. Blood runs onto my forehead and into my eyes causing me to cry. Through my tears I see a post. Shackles high it waits for me to be hung off it.

Blood runs down your face, into your eyes. Your hands are bound behind you, you can't even wipe the blood and tears away. Naked, you are forced forward, stumbling, your body presented to the men around you, your breasts swaying with each step. Your beautiful face shows pain, defiance, fading hope. They won't do this will they? Whip you, nail you, hang you high from a piece of heavy wood?
 
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