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Jastrow's Pic of the Day

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Praefectus Praetorio said:
And the most frightening part, the part that would bring brave men to their knees! The part we just could not stand ----- Barb as a mother
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Apostate said:
Not sure if her response will be a :meparto: or a :spank:.

Hmmm.

Barb? Suggestions?
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Praefectus Praetorio said:
The response might be almost as scary as the original concept. What if you were descended from the child. Would you then be a great great, etc., Mother F*****!
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To the woodshed for both of you!

:spank::spank::spank::spank::spank::spank:
 
Tuesday, September 18, 2018–Day 257. Her mahogany-colored body glistened in the blazing desert sun. Other than the expected rapes and the nails that had been cruelly driven through her wrists and feet into the rough wooden cross, she had not been otherwise brutalized. That was not done out of any sense of mercy. Instead , she had been spared to ensure that she had the maximum reserves of strength so her suffering would be as prolonged as possible. It would be a very long ordeal for her. And one unlucky guards had been given unenviable duty of waiting in the sun with her and forcing her to drink water to keep her hydrated. Unlike her, however, he did have a cotton tent to provide him with a small amount of shade. She was not so lucky. She could only writhe in agony and grow weaker and weaker. She watched him as he ate his meal and realized just how hungry she was. But hunger wouldn’t kill her... If she grew too quiet, he would wake her by slapping her tits or sticking his fingers in her holes. He never allowed her the comfort of unconsciousness. When night came, and it came suddenly, it grew cold almost instantly. He huddled beneath a woolen blanket as she shivered helplessly. It was a long night...particularly for her. When the dawn came, he was relieved by another guard and happily made his way back to camp. In the haze of pain that was now her world, she tried to remember how long she had been nailed to this cross. And then she tried to image how much longer it would be until death ended her suffering.... From 2011 and called "Black Slave".
 

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Jastrow said:
Tuesday, September 18, 2018–Day 257. Her mahogany-colored body glistened in the blazing desert sun. Other than the expected rapes and the nails that had been cruelly driven through her wrists and feet into the rough wooden cross, she had not been otherwise brutalized. That was not done out of any sense of mercy. Instead , she had been spared to ensure that she had the maximum reserves of strength so her suffering would be as prolonged as possible. It would be a very long ordeal for her. And one unlucky guards had been given unenviable duty of waiting in the sun with her and forcing her to drink water to keep her hydrated. Unlike her, however, he did have a cotton tent to provide him with a small amount of shade. She was not so lucky. She could only writhe in agony and grow weaker and weaker. She watched him as he ate his meal and realized just how hungry she was. But hunger wouldn’t kill her... If she grew too quiet, he would wake her by slapping her tits or sticking his fingers in her holes. He never allowed her the comfort of unconsciousness. When night came, and it came suddenly, it grew cold almost instantly. He huddled beneath a woolen blanket as she shivered helplessly. It was a long night...particularly for her. When the dawn came, he was relieved by another guard and happily made his way back to camp. In the haze of pain that was now her world, she tried to remember how long she had been nailed to this cross. And then she tried to image how much longer it would be until death ended her suffering.... From 2011 and called "Black Slave".
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Good lord, who did that poor child piss off? No matter, she looks unreasonably hot up there.

However, after all these years, Ireta remains my favorite sub Saharan subject of yours.
 

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Jastrow said:
Sunday, September 16, 2018–Day 255. Here’s a new one for you entitled."What Would You Do?"

A hypothetical question–what if you could travel back in time? Not forever, but just for an hour or so. Your destination is one o’clock p.m. outside of a small Roman town in the year 100 CE. It is a warm day and the sun is very bright–the sky a brilliant blue. The hillside is deserted except for one feature–a lovely dark haired girl–totally naked–nailed to a wooden cross. You can hear her moaning in anquish as she writhes on the rough wooden cross. So what do you do?

I expect a few of you would take advantage of the unique situation you find yourself in to explore in depth the details of a real, actual Roman crucifixion. You would note the actual construction of the cross, its joinery, how the condemned was affixed to it, the size of the nails and their placement on the body. You might note how the cross was placed in the ground, how the wood was planed and finished. Such wonderful details that you would be able to share with the members of Crux Forums. You can provide the actual answers to many of the questions members have been asking for years as to how it really was done. Now you know. You’ve seen it firsthand with your own eyes!
Others of you might feel a degree of compassion for the poor girl dying on the cross before you. You might brush a strand of hair from her face or wipe away the tears that stain her cheeks. Perhaps you find some water to give to her to ease the terrible thirst she is experiencing. Or perhaps you will comfort her by just being there for her as her life ends and she makes the transition to whatever lies beyond.

On the other hand, some of you might have different things in mind. You look at her face and see the total helplessness she is experiencing. It is fascinating to watch her expressions change from moment to moment, instant to instant-- shame becomes anger which turns into disbelief and to utter despair and then absolute terror, and beneath it all, inescapable agony. You step close to her. You can smell her unwashed body. It is earthy smell and unexpectedly arousing. A sheen of sweat covers her naked flesh, her face, neck and upper chest are flushed. Flies buzz about her and she tries in vain to dislodge them. They foretell the swarms of them that will soon land on her once her struggle is over. But for now, her young body is still so appealing–her breasts soft and beautiful–they rise and fall with each labored breath, her belly firm and taunt ...and lower--between her lush thighs...what secrets await you there? So exposed... So alone...so utterly helpless... How could you resist not touching her–feeling the damp moistness of her flesh... Those breasts and nipples almost beg to be squeezed, pinched and twisted. She is already in agony...how could you resist adding even more pain to what she is already feeling. Could your hands resist stroking lower....between her thighs...feeling the erect nub of her clit...parting her moist, meaty lips...fingers brazenly exploring the wetness and the warmth of her body’s most secret places as she moans and cries out in shame at this fresh violation. Would that stop you? Time is short, the minutes are ticking by and so you do what you have to do under the circumstances. I expect that by the time you return to your day and time with a contented smile on you face, you might have already left her to die with a cunny full of fresh twenty-first century sperm oozing slowly out of her body to dribble out of her fuckhole and spatter on the ground below her feet ....
I confess I know which of the three options above I would have chosen. I truly wish I was a better, more decent, more noble a man, but, sorry to say, confronted with this alluring opportunity, I’m obviously not.

But now it is YOUR turn now. Now you are standing between the parted thighs of this beautiful dying wench. So, what would YOU do...?
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For one thing, set up my cell phone camera. Might have to tickle her bare soles to see her reaction. The usual indulgences, of course. If she was unpleasant or rude I might piss in a cup and see if she was desperately thirsty. Or if I was just in an ornery mood.
 
Wednesday, September 19, 2018–Day 258. This early one dates way back to 2006 and shows a proud papa reacting (rather badly) to the unexpected sight of his favorite daughter totally nude and nailed to a cross. Apparently the penalty for shoplifting is rather steep around here. Isn’t it awful when little girls disappoint their daddies...? Entitled "A Father’s Shame".
 

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Jastrow said:
Wednesday, September 19, 2018–Day 258. This early one dates way back to 2006 and shows a proud papa reacting (rather badly) to the unexpected sight of his favorite daughter totally nude and nailed to a cross. Apparently the penalty for shoplifting is rather steep around here. Isn’t it awful when little girls disappoint their daddies...? Entitled "A Father’s Shame".
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The worst is : she could get everything she desired. Just asking for it to dad!
Spoilt girl!
 
Jastrow said:
Wednesday, September 19, 2018–Day 258. This early one dates way back to 2006 and shows a proud papa reacting (rather badly) to the unexpected sight of his favorite daughter totally nude and nailed to a cross. Apparently the penalty for shoplifting is rather steep around here. Isn’t it awful when little girls disappoint their daddies...? Entitled "A Father’s Shame".
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A failure in parenting :rolleyes:
 
Jastrow said:
Wednesday, September 19, 2018–Day 258. This early one dates way back to 2006 . . .
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Which leads to my next question. Thinking of re-doing her, Jas?

Gee, I hope so. :very_hot:
 

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Jastrow said:
Tuesday, September 18, 2018–Day 257. Her mahogany-colored body glistened in the blazing desert sun. Other than the expected rapes and the nails that had been cruelly driven through her wrists and feet into the rough wooden cross, she had not been otherwise brutalized. That was not done out of any sense of mercy. Instead , she had been spared to ensure that she had the maximum reserves of strength so her suffering would be as prolonged as possible. It would be a very long ordeal for her. And one unlucky guards had been given unenviable duty of waiting in the sun with her and forcing her to drink water to keep her hydrated. Unlike her, however, he did have a cotton tent to provide him with a small amount of shade. She was not so lucky. She could only writhe in agony and grow weaker and weaker. She watched him as he ate his meal and realized just how hungry she was. But hunger wouldn’t kill her... If she grew too quiet, he would wake her by slapping her tits or sticking his fingers in her holes. He never allowed her the comfort of unconsciousness. When night came, and it came suddenly, it grew cold almost instantly. He huddled beneath a woolen blanket as she shivered helplessly. It was a long night...particularly for her. When the dawn came, he was relieved by another guard and happily made his way back to camp. In the haze of pain that was now her world, she tried to remember how long she had been nailed to this cross. And then she tried to image how much longer it would be until death ended her suffering.... From 2011 and called "Black Slave".
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This seems very similar to a story I’m about to post. Not exactly alike, but there are some passages in here that make me think we think on similar lines.
 
Thursday, September 20, 2018–Day 259. Sometime ago, Apostate asked if I could work on some alternative endings or events for the girl’s in his story, THE GREEK GIRLS. Here’s one such episode...
" Publius should have known better than to piss off his cousin, Callia. Of course he’d pissed her off plenty having her and her sister Adonia arrested, stipped, raped, whipped and crucified. But the straw that broke the camel’s back was when he began working his tight fingers deep into the hidden recesses of little cunny. If he’d had the sense that God gave geese, he would have known that nice girls don’t permit that unless the guy had at least taken to a fancy restaurant for a nice dinne first. Social graces had never been his strong suit. Still, he was quite surprised by her reaction. He had assumed that having her nailed to a cross would limit what she could do to express her anger, so he was completely shocked by what happened next. He was surprised to find a large and disgusting loogie headed directly towards his face. It was a shock that she would do such a thing. It was also shock that her body could produce something so large and sickeningly vile. It was a shock that it landed with pin-point accuracy directly on his right eye. Callia smiled triumpantly. Nailed to cross, you take your victories anyway you can...."
"Callia should have known better than to piss off his cousin, Publius. Her victory was short lived. He proceeded to begin slapping the defenseless girl as hard as he could. Her face and her tits where his main target as he shrieked with rage. The brutal blows rained down on her–back and forth-- without letup. Finally he stopped. He realized that he was rock hard. With an almost animal hunger, he pushed her thighs apart, positioned his cock at the entrance of her cunt and drove deep inside her cunt in a single painful throust. But he was frustrated once again when, instead of the long hate-fuck he had hoped for, he came almost instantly. Embarrassed and further ashamed by his pitiful performance, he ordered the carnifix’s men to again gangrape her, something there were most anxious to do. He, meanwhile went back horse and rifeled through his saddle bag until he found what he was looking for. It was a special cock-sleeve he had purchased that did a number of things. First it dramatically increased the size and girth of his cock ensure that any girl taking it inside her would find the experience to be most unpleasant. Secondly the leather shaft would deaden his sensations. It would, he hoped, keep him from cumming so soon. And lastly, the entire outer surface of the sleeve was studded with metal barbs that would rip the inner lining of Callia’s cunt to bloody ribbons. If all went according to plan, it would be a fuck she would remember for the short remainder of her pitiful life.... Then on to her sister, Adonia...."
Entitled "Cousin Love 1 and 2"
 

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