Justin-Executed
Executioner
I would love to be stripped right before I'm stretched out on the cross and nailed to it. Turns me on so much the thought of being stripped naked in front of the crowd before getting executed.
Me naked ready to be crucified
A little hint for the future. I suggest to resize the pictures to half or so 1400px for the long side.Me naked ready to be crucified
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Me naked ready to be crucified
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Amazing!Hearing the old man's evil words and mocking laughter, I instinctively press my thighs together, conscious that the scrap of rag – that the Torturer's used to wipe his bloodied hands on – is no sort of protection for my decency, more of a flag to draw attention. My torso rises and falls with my rhythmic gasps, as I try to cope with the gouging pain in my wrists.
Now they bring the block of wood for my feet to be nailed on. Soldiers grab my legs and tug them apart, I close my eyes in shame as youths whistle and jeer, led on by the old voyeur. The stipes jolts as they hammer the block in place, making my scourge-scarred spine jerk sharply, painfully.
Then one flexes my right leg and presses my foot against the block. The pain of the nail driven through the muscle and bone of my instep is far, far worse than that in my wrists. My screams are so loud, they echo even from the distant hills, blending in hideous disharmony with the eager cheers of the watchers.
As the second nail drives through my left foot, my mind is racing – this can't be happening to me! How can humans do this to a fellow-creature? Surely those monster's words can't be true? Yet they must be. I must have been created only to suffer, only to provide for men an image of Hell. Death would be lovely now, I wish my drumming heart would seize and stop – but death's a long way off – and, oh God, perhaps these torments will continue even after I'm dead – for ever and ever?
When my feet are nailed, the men stand and admire their handiwork. The old man kneels and fondles my thighs – they're shuddering with pain – then flicks aside the rag and thrusts his face into my groin. Again his tongue explores me, even more foully, again he chews at soft lips till I squeal. As he traps my clitoris between his teeth, my whole body leaps, my head's thrown back – I experience the height of ecstasy in a tidal wave of utmost pain. As he releases me, he licks again, then kneels up, "H'mmm," he proclaims, "Nice woman's cum – see how her juices flow, when she's introduced to Hell – where she belongs!"
I lower my eyes submissively, as the Centurion presses a wreath of knotted thorn-stems on to my temples, another focus of pain for me, my long locks begin to grow lank with blood. Now the soldiers, the old man, and others who've paid for the privilege, gather round and draw their bladders out to piss on me, to drive home to me my utter degradation, utter helplessness. All I can do is close my eyes and turn my head aside, pierced by the thorns, as the warm liquid swamps my face, shoulders, breasts and lower parts.
I'm ready now. Forget any hopes I might be able to resist, to ease the pain, to find release by losing consciousness or early death. I am to be raised up, a model for them to observe, of the worst that happens to a girl in Hell...
------Just a quick reflection that isnÂ’t particularly interesting, but one that I reckon adds some spice to the crucifixion scenario.
As I read most of your comments you all seem to agree on the following; the victim, male or female, is first stripped completely and scourged, then they carry the cross or platibulum naked through the crowded streets to their execution. This is most likely what the procedure was in roman times.
However in my own mind, after the scourging - which can be done to the victim naked, they are then dressed in something, either a ridiculous item of clothing to encourage ribald mockery from the crowd, or flimsy rags; a loin cloth and/ or something thrown over their shoulders to scantily cover them on their way through the crowds.
Only when they arrive at the place of crucifixion are these bits of clothing savagely torn off.
This to me adds to the build-up of tension. The crowd can view the victim for a longish while and speculate amongst themselves as to how they would look naked, enjoying the prospect. The victim, though enduring and struggling against enormous pain and exhaustion, is still anticipating the shame of being stripped naked in front of this baying mass of people.
The moment of arrival at the execution place should be climactic. The eventual and much awaited stripping, the nailing and finally the raising of the cross. Only when itÂ’s up can all those present gloat on the victimÂ’s nakedness.
If they are naked right from the start this tension is missed.
Am I the only one to imagine the scene this way??
When To Strip?
Just when he is about to leave the house
to watch Manchester United.
When To Strip?
Just when he is about to leave the house
to watch Manchester United.
Does that work?
Does it hell, he just say`s stay like that until i get back
and if they lose i don`t get fucked
I love those girls!there'll be girls waiting along the way for punters who can't wait!