-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
Some Sketches
- Thread starter Andyman
- Start date
crumera
Crucifier of Pixels
Hangnail
Tribune
Say their names:
Attachments
Hangnail
Tribune
The end of the roll call
Attachments
Hangnail
Tribune
The witness becomes the condemned:
Attachments
Andyman
Senator
Knowing that everyone gathered on the hill is looking at me, struggling to hold back my tears I moved my hips slightly back to hide my vulva between my thighs - but in vain. It was so painful that I realized again I'm able to keep my thighs pressed to one another only for the short time and with a great effort. It is so exhausting that I have no chance of success, not even a slight one... And whatever I do to hide my nakedness it doesn't actually matter. I AM naked and nothing NEVER can change it. I AM totally uncovered with my whole body, nailed to the wood of shame, exposed to the peoples' eyes and everyone can see EVERYTHING... and from now on I will FOREVER be naked... exposed... ashamed... dehumanized... humiliated... defiled... for the rest of my life... FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!!!... hours... and days... day after day... until I die... oh, gods... oh, gods... I can't stand this pain and shame!... oh, gods... damn you... damn my life... and damn my death... I'd rather never be born...!
Last edited:
Andyman
Senator
They dragged me here and nailed me to the cross like a piece of plank. But I am not a piece of plank and I'm suffering the unimaginable pain, horrible shame and fear of dying at the same time.
I never ever supposed I was able to experience this much of pain without losing the knowing that I am naked, and I never ever supposed I was able to bear such a shame without losing fear of death. I even doubted if the crucified one really suffers so much. Now I doubt no more.
I never ever supposed I was able to experience this much of pain without losing the knowing that I am naked, and I never ever supposed I was able to bear such a shame without losing fear of death. I even doubted if the crucified one really suffers so much. Now I doubt no more.
Andyman
Senator
When I was just a little girl, I was a polite and tactiful one, so when I must walk under the crosses, lifted near the city gates, I always had been lowering my head and I focused on watching carefully my sandals. Of course, I couldn't forget the painful cries and groans of the crucified slaves, which filled me with fear and detestation.
When I was sixteen and still a modest and nice teenager myself, for the first time I saw the crucified man. It was one of the foreign small traders, a swarthy Jewish guy who killed one of his countrymen with a knife and was sentenced as a criminal. I saw him naked, covered with sweat and dirt, trembling and shaking his body like a man suffering chorea. He was extremely disgusting, but I cannot forget his sight, with mouth opened wide and absolutly crazy facial expression.
For the next few years I tried to not pass through the Southern Gate when the executions were held there in order to avoid such unpleasant and inaesthetic view.
The following years made me less shy and timid, and few times I watched the convicts dying on their crosses, sometimes with curiosity, however without any pleasure. Nearly every month our authorities sentenced some disobedient slave or two, or sometimes a highwayman caught in act, to be crucified, so as the years passed it became more and more routine to me and my curiosity vanished.
Later I left my city and moved to the provincional oppidum near the Gaelic borders, inhabited by some two thousands people, where the crucifixions were very rare due to the small community, in spite of it's international scent.
Of course, all the crucified I had been seeing were men. I heard about the mass executions somewhere and sometimes I wondered if it is possible to nail females to the crosses, and how could the woman like me look and feel beeing crucified, but I preferred not to use my imagination to its extents in this case. The idea of the woman being hammered to the wooden beams looked to me twice disgusting and more cruel than possible, so I was sure I'd never meet one. I never wondered if they would scourged her before and I never imagined that she wouldn't be given at least a loincloth or a piece of rug to cover her lower belly. It seemed to me that I would never met a crucified woman in my life and I found this assumption satisfying.
I was right and I was wrong in the same time, however. Literally, I never MET a woman hanged on the cross. I BECAME the very first crucified woman in this town myself!
Now I know that they scourge women the same as they scourge men, and that they abuse them and rape if possible, and that they hammer them to the wood with nails as they hammer men, and finally that they hang the women in the nude and in public, and that the crucified women are covered with sweat, dirt and blood and that they are nasty, disgusting and stinking, that they squeak and cry with heir mouths open wide, wild eyes and crazy facial expression.
But the price I paid for this wisdom was the highest possible. I experienced it all on myself...!
When I was sixteen and still a modest and nice teenager myself, for the first time I saw the crucified man. It was one of the foreign small traders, a swarthy Jewish guy who killed one of his countrymen with a knife and was sentenced as a criminal. I saw him naked, covered with sweat and dirt, trembling and shaking his body like a man suffering chorea. He was extremely disgusting, but I cannot forget his sight, with mouth opened wide and absolutly crazy facial expression.
For the next few years I tried to not pass through the Southern Gate when the executions were held there in order to avoid such unpleasant and inaesthetic view.
The following years made me less shy and timid, and few times I watched the convicts dying on their crosses, sometimes with curiosity, however without any pleasure. Nearly every month our authorities sentenced some disobedient slave or two, or sometimes a highwayman caught in act, to be crucified, so as the years passed it became more and more routine to me and my curiosity vanished.
Later I left my city and moved to the provincional oppidum near the Gaelic borders, inhabited by some two thousands people, where the crucifixions were very rare due to the small community, in spite of it's international scent.
Of course, all the crucified I had been seeing were men. I heard about the mass executions somewhere and sometimes I wondered if it is possible to nail females to the crosses, and how could the woman like me look and feel beeing crucified, but I preferred not to use my imagination to its extents in this case. The idea of the woman being hammered to the wooden beams looked to me twice disgusting and more cruel than possible, so I was sure I'd never meet one. I never wondered if they would scourged her before and I never imagined that she wouldn't be given at least a loincloth or a piece of rug to cover her lower belly. It seemed to me that I would never met a crucified woman in my life and I found this assumption satisfying.
I was right and I was wrong in the same time, however. Literally, I never MET a woman hanged on the cross. I BECAME the very first crucified woman in this town myself!
Now I know that they scourge women the same as they scourge men, and that they abuse them and rape if possible, and that they hammer them to the wood with nails as they hammer men, and finally that they hang the women in the nude and in public, and that the crucified women are covered with sweat, dirt and blood and that they are nasty, disgusting and stinking, that they squeak and cry with heir mouths open wide, wild eyes and crazy facial expression.
But the price I paid for this wisdom was the highest possible. I experienced it all on myself...!
Attachments
Last edited:
J
Juan1234
Guest
It looks like the woman's anus has taken on new importance in your work lately! 
Andyman
Senator
As far as I remember the bottom was the most beautiful and important feminine part of a female body for me (and I have never changed my opinion later) since I saw the very first photo of a nude young woman in some magazine endpage, in early 1970s, when I was four or so. It was a black and white photo, two inches high, and not the high resolution one, but this was the standard in socialist countries in 1960s/70s. I cut out this photo and I was saving it carefully for a year or two, and soon I begun to try to draw with pen a copy of the genuine curves of her back (and that's how my sketching ability begun to develop!). She was beautiful, standing upright, with one leg straight and the second slightly bent, so one buttock was lifted slightly higher than another. She had shoulder long blonde hair and she was peeking over her shoulder to the camera with a simple, friendly smile, not a promiscuous "business smile of a sex worker", if you know what I mean, so I was deeply impressed as a child and as a (very) young man with her simple beauty and plainness. She was the first woman I could call my crush and my muse!It looks like the woman's anus has taken on new importance in your work lately!
Last edited:
Andyman
Senator
Andyman
Senator
I was on the sick leave, so I had an extraordinary amount of free time. But soon it will expire. ;-)
Andyman
Senator
Just before being nailed I was raped by a strong slave, who pinned me to the pole. I felt the muscular men's body pressed to the front of my bare skin and his cock penetrating me deep against my will and in the same time my back and bottom were pressed to the raw wooden post, when I would be hanged few minutes later - a terrible mix of fear and shame. Many of the slave girls enjoyed this process as an act of consolation and copulated with the slaves or soldiers with pleasure (but I was not a slave, and not a single, I had my husband!) and all my family members and friends including him were watching me being unclothed and raped... and it was terrible... so degrading... it was... the ultimate humiliation...
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
We wish you a good health! But please keep posting!
