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Wind And Rain

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Wragg134 said:
Ooooh arrrr!

Tis on'y the Yanks what visit that site in the rain!

But them of us as live nearboi....

We do offen ear the sound of an 'ammer an screamin driftin 'cross the moor!

So, don't you Cruxforum folk go thinkin that this ear tale iz fiction! Tis God's honest trewth!
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Tree does protest... He is too sweet to step into the rain...

...it's always back to the rain... L. Reed
 
Barbaria1 said:
5. I poke gingerly at the hummocky grassy ground, festooned with little piles of round pellet-like sheep dung, with the toe of my blue canvass Keds sneakers. A blustery wind blows my hair and a persistent drizzle wets my face. My eyes trace the line of the ancient track that crests the hillock on which I stand and continues on to the site of an old Roman camp and fort.

I read with interest the informative little sign at my feet, obligingly placed there by the National Trust. It tells of a fierce battle in which the Romans established control over the local Celtic tribe, and how archaeological finds of ancient timbers, rusted iron nails along with broken or splintered wrist and foot bones, suggest that the vanquished defenders who survived the fighting were put to death on this very spot in a mass crucifixion ... and curiously, how one set of bones, unlike the others, were those of a young female.

Eyes closed and buffeted by a quickening wind and heavier rain, I let my mind wander back nearly two millennia to imagine one of my ancestors … a young woman with long dark hair, lying naked on her back, bound with ropes to a heavy wooden cross, while two Roman soldiers fuss about the brutal task of hammering blunt iron nails through her thin wrists and delicate feet.

I imagine the horrendous pain she must have felt and how she must have arched her back, bucked and screamed with each hammer blow; and how, when the nailing was completed and the soldiers raised her cross and plopped it in its prepared hole, her poor naked body must have bounced about, repeatedly swinging out from the wood and crashing back into it; and how she must have suffered for God knows how long, struggling to push herself up to catch a breath of air and then sliding back, scourged back roughed up by the splintered timber, blood running down her arms and sides from her nailed wrists and oozing between the toes of her shattered feet; and how her head must have lolled from side to side, sodden hair splayed across her heaving breasts with hard tumescent nipples poking out through glistening twisted strands; and how her head, once exhaustion set in, must have hung forward until her chin came to rest on her chest.

Emerging from my reverie, I am consciously aware of what a powerfully erotic effect my little fantasy has had on me. I feel that familiar tingle of arousal and note with chagrin the dark wet stain spreading from the crotch of my skinny jeans.

And what of those two Roman soldiers who crucified her, I wonder? What did they think and feel? Were they aroused or had they seen it all before? Did they molest and brutalize her or feel sorry for her?

And what of me? Why does thinking of her and her suffering so excite me? Why do I fantasize about being unfairly condemned, stripped and exposed, tormented, humiliated, subjected to ridicule, whipped and tortured, nailed and raised? Am I weird, or is there a little of this in all of us?

I wonder.

FINIS
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What a clever little story.... leaving so much to the imagination.... adore it. Am I weird, or is there a little of this in all of us?
 
Barbaria1 said:
And what of those two Roman soldiers who crucified her, I wonder? What did they think and feel? Were they aroused or had they seen it all before? Did they molest and brutalize her or feel sorry for her?
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Hum, I dont want to be very affirmative, but , in these times, the life was very hard and Roman soldiers had certainly not moods concerning their duty ; it was obviously a part of their work and after that ...Basta !:D

And what of me? Why does thinking of her and her suffering so excite me? Why do I fantasize about being unfairly condemned, stripped and exposed, tormented, humiliated, subjected to ridicule, whipped and tortured, nailed and raised?
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Concerning that, Barb, it's a deep question ...
How a common woman, like you're, like we are, can be attracted by these kind of pain'fantasy, by these kind of death'feeling ?
...and it's not a soft thought which could pass through our brain ! No, no , no, it's a deep sensation which is growing from our belly/pussy till that it becomes a real desire of suffering , a real desire of beeing shown like a victim, like THE victim ...

I dont really explain that ... It's great, it's wonderful, it's "to be lived" !
 
Wragg134 said:
Monty, I have to tell you, I'm really enjoying your poetic interludes to Barb's story!

:goodjob:



Cor, blimey! :eek:

Now wonder Boudicca had to give these guys a bit of a thrashing! :oops:

These Romans just aren't gentlemen! :mad:

What are they doing in Britain? :confused:
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Obviously came for the warm beer and gourmet cuisine :)
 
Wragg134 said:
Monty, I have to tell you, I'm really enjoying your poetic interludes to Barb's story!

:goodjob:



Cor, blimey! :eek:

Now wonder Boudicca had to give these guys a bit of a thrashing! :oops:

These Romans just aren't gentlemen! :mad:

What are they doing in Britain? :confused:
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Obviously came for the warm beer and gourmet groats
 
meattention.ine said:
Hum, I dont want to be very affirmative, but , in these times, the life was very hard and Roman soldiers had certainly not moods concerning their duty ; it was obviously a part of their work and after that ...Basta !:D



Concerning that, Barb, it's a deep question ...
How a common woman, like you're, like we are, can be attracted by these kind of pain'fantasy, by these kind of death'feeling ?
...and it's not a soft thought which could pass through our brain ! No, no , no, it's a deep sensation which is growing from our belly/pussy till that it becomes a real desire of suffering , a real desire of beeing shown like a victim, like THE victim ...

I dont really explain that ... It's great, it's wonderful, it's "to be lived" !
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Center of attention combined with martyrdom make a potent brew
 
Barbaria1 said:
And what of me? Why does thinking of her and her suffering so excite me? Why do I fantasize about being unfairly condemned, stripped and exposed, tormented, humiliated, subjected to ridicule, whipped and tortured, nailed and raised? Am I weird, or is there a little of this in all of us?
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This reminds me of another story I read here some time ago. Maybe also by you Barb?

Yes, nicely imagined, and nicely told. Some places invite that, they bring the past home to us, the veil between that world and ours can be very thin. We almost hear the voices, see the visions.
Feel the torment.

Are you weird? Not in this company, you're not! :D
 
phlebas said:
This reminds me of another story I read here some time ago. Maybe also by you Barb?

Yes, nicely imagined, and nicely told. Some places invite that, they bring the past home to us, the veil between that world and ours can be very thin. We almost hear the voices, see the visions.
Feel the torment.

Are you weird? Not in this company, you're not! :D
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Very thin veil on ALL HALLOWS EVE
 
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