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Jastrow's Pic of the Day

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Jastrow said:
Saturday, April 28, 2018–Day 118: Katia had been the wife of chieftain of their small village–respected, well-fed and pampered. That all ended when their village had been raided and sacked. Her husband was killed trying, in vain, to defend the villages. She’d watched as the raiders ransacked and burned the village to the ground. Most of the men were quickly slaughtered. The women were a different story. They were all stripped and brutally gang-raped. Then they were all bound in a coffel and were paraded off to begin a new life of degradation and slavery. The young, pretty girls, like her two lovely daughters, were sold to a brothel owner. They’d spend their remaining days on their backs with their legs splayed as man after man used them freely. The older women were all sold off as well, but they faced a far more brutal treatment. Some ended up working all day long in the fields beneath a ruthless, blazing sun. Katia’s fate was even worse. She’d been sold to the owners of one of the galley ships. Her long and lovely black hair had been hacked off and for the next months she spent her long exhausting days trying to pull the heavy oar or being brutally whipped if she couldn’t keep up. They forced her to eat to keep her strength up–each day, a vile, maggot-infested slop was injected down her gullet. Still, despite the brutal treatment she experienced, she proved to be totally worthless as a galley slave. The easiest thing to do would have been to just throw her overboard and watch her drown or see the sharks have their fun with her, but they decided to make an example of her for the other slaves. They brought her to a tiny remote island, and as the other female slaves watched, beneath repeated blows of the whip, they marched her inland where, after raping her one last time, they nailed her to a rough wooden cross and then left her, utterly alone to face a slow and lingering with only the seagulls to keep her company. How the mighty have fallen!
Entitled "Katia’s Fate".
Click to expand...

Now THAT is a back story. Well done!
 
Jastrow said:
Saturday, April 28, 2018–Day 118: Katia had been the wife of chieftain of their small village–respected, well-fed and pampered. That all ended when their village had been raided and sacked. Her husband was killed trying, in vain, to defend the villages. She’d watched as the raiders ransacked and burned the village to the ground. Most of the men were quickly slaughtered. The women were a different story. They were all stripped and brutally gang-raped. Then they were all bound in a coffel and were paraded off to begin a new life of degradation and slavery. The young, pretty girls, like her two lovely daughters, were sold to a brothel owner. They’d spend their remaining days on their backs with their legs splayed as man after man used them freely. The older women were all sold off as well, but they faced a far more brutal treatment. Some ended up working all day long in the fields beneath a ruthless, blazing sun. Katia’s fate was even worse. She’d been sold to the owners of one of the galley ships. Her long and lovely black hair had been hacked off and for the next months she spent her long exhausting days trying to pull the heavy oar or being brutally whipped if she couldn’t keep up. They forced her to eat to keep her strength up–each day, a vile, maggot-infested slop was injected down her gullet. Still, despite the brutal treatment she experienced, she proved to be totally worthless as a galley slave. The easiest thing to do would have been to just throw her overboard and watch her drown or see the sharks have their fun with her, but they decided to make an example of her for the other slaves. They brought her to a tiny remote island, and as the other female slaves watched, beneath repeated blows of the whip, they marched her inland where, after raping her one last time, they nailed her to a rough wooden cross and then left her, utterly alone to face a slow and lingering with only the seagulls to keep her company. How the mighty have fallen!
Entitled "Katia’s Fate".
Click to expand...

Nice! and I know that @fat slave girl would love this one as well!~
 
Apostate said:
Jas, youve tried your best, but you just can’t get me interested in plus sized homely women, even if they’re naked and nailed to crosses. You could scorn me as a Lookist, and you’d be right. And I ain’t proud of that.

:facepalm:

But follow your muse, guy. Follow you muse.
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I understand. To each his own. Besides, I've zapped your limbic system many a time with some of my other renderings.
 
Sunday, April 29, 2018–Day 119: "She didn’t know who they were...the other two women who were being crucified with her on this desolate hill. She’d heard their screams and cries last night as they had been beaten and raped repeatedly, and she knew they’d heard hers, as she was similarly used. This morning, she’d been the first to make the humiliating march to this place, the first to hear the taunts from the onlookers, the first to shriek in pain as the nails had been driven into her wrists and feet... She had nearly passed out repeatedly from the persistent pain that racked her body as she hung helplessly on the cross. Although she could not see her from where she was nailed, she’d heard as the next girl was marched the site and nailed to her cross. The girl’s horrible screams and cries left no doubt as to what was being done to her. Then the next one arrived–also hidden from her view. Now all three of them shared this lonely hillside–their cries and moans and desperate pleas for mercy echoing around them. As she grew weaker and weaker with each passing moment, she could only wonder who they were and what they had done to deserve this horrid end–these two unknown sisters of sorrow who shared her fate. Above the hungry birds circled. They’d eat well tonight..." Entitled "Sisters in Sorrow".
 

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Monday, April 30, 2018–Day 120: I seem to have galley slaves on my mind. Where is Atrox when I need him. This is entitled "The Arrival of the New Galley Slaves".
"He watched as the three new galley slaves made their way slowly across beach to where a small skiff waited to take them out to the massive ship. The trio of naked women moved slowly--awkwardly. Hands were tightly tied behind each of their backs, causing their breasts to jut out in a most appealing manner. Their ankles were hobbled allowing them only limited movement and they were each tied to one another by ropes encircling and cutting into the flesh of their necks. He noted the look of pure terror on their faces. If they looked to their right, they would see the ship–ominous, powerful and frightening. It would be their new home–Hades on earth. They could not begin to imagine the degree of cruelty and perverse degradation they would experience once on board. But the sight to their left was even more terrifying. Three nude women nailed to wooden crosses each in unimaginable agony. They scarcely looked like women anymore. Their gaunt, sinewy bodies were criss-crossed with a thick tapestry of welts. Their eyes were sunken, empty as if they had finally accepted the fact nothing remained of their lives but agony which they sensed would only end in their meaningless deaths. They were right. He looked at the three new women and felt a pleasant stirring in his loins. They were still fresh–their bodies soft and pleasingly lush. Their skin was not yet permanently scarred by the incessant blows of the lash they would soon feel as they labored endlessly. Their holes would still be deliciously tight and they might still smell like a woman. And most important, they would still react to the brutal rapes and violations they would soon endure. They would still fight, still cry in shame and still beg for mercy... which with a smile on his face, he would deny. They would be soon be popular with the crew–at least for a while–at least until they too, much too soon, became disposable--like the dying wraiths on crosses–writhing in agony as they waited and prayed for the emptiness of death..."
 

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Jastrow said:
They were still fresh–their bodies soft and pleasingly lush. Their skin was not yet permanently scarred by the incessant blows of the lash they would soon feel as they labored endlessly.
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Jas, you do realize that a whole lot of people (by which I mean "I") would vastly prefer these three to hang on crosses?
 
Jastrow said:
Tuesday, May 1, 2018–Day 121 MAY-DAY! MAY-DAY!! MAY-DAY!!! Well, a third of the year, 2018, is now in the books. This one dates to 2008 and is called "Purification".
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My first response is along the lines of "Aw, c'mon man! That’s just mean!"

Then I remember Jastrow's done a lot worse things with fire. :devil:
 

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Wednesday, May 2, 2018–Day 122 "She was dying–she knew that. Her strength was giving out and she was growing weaker and weaker with each passing minute. She would hang helplessly for as long and she could–ignoring the burning pain in her wrists from the stout nails that secured her to the cross. But soon, her desperate need for a breath of air became too strong and she would begin the agonizing journey up the cross. Jets of pain would radiate from her nailed feet and nailed wrists–pushing upwards with her feet and pulling upwards from her wrists. The skin on her tender back–already abraded by the brutal whipping she had earlier recieved would again be torn open. She would feel the cornu begin to painfully move out the distend ring of her anus and pulled upwards. When she reached the top of her journey, she would frantically try to fill her lungs with life-giving air, but she couldn’t stay in that position. Gravity would pull her exhausted body downward–again tearing open the welts on her back–again the cornu work its way painfully into into her tight rear orifice. She didn’t know how many more times she could make that terrible journey and she prayed that the relief of death would soon come..." From 2012 and called "Crux in the Desert 2".
 

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