Christian Virgins And The Fall Of The Roman Empire

[The Fallen Angel]

Forget all you have read or seen about the decline of the Roman empire..it's all nonsense. The real reason was those pesky Christian virgins making an almighty bloody nuisance of themselves. Just think of the manpower and money involved in those mass crucifixions. Well planed timber was hardly cheap and the cost of sturdy nails which would really grip the slippery hands was out of this world. Add to that the paperwork, rounding up, cross making, crowd control, crucifiers...the list is almost endless. And then!!...those virgins are at it again!!. Instead of being on their knees satisfying the randy menfolk they are on their knees praying!! They needed to be sorted; by law any obstinate Christian virgin would in future be taken to the Colosseum to be deflowered the hard way. They had brought it upon themselves but...think of all the extra work for the Colosseum staff, army, professional deflowerers, stake makers...... And while all this was going on who was guarding the borders from infiltration by Goths, Vandals, Gypsies, tramps, thieves, east European migrants, vagabonds, Erin the elf warrior, the German tourist and the Belgians and anyone else who fancied a slice of La Dolce Vita down south on the sunny Med. ?..No wonder the Empire collapsed.
Here is a pic kindly sent by Polly Perkins showing some poor over worked Nubian slave deflowering his umpteenth virgin of the afternoon.

 

[Quiet Paul]

Never, ever trust a virgin, Christian or any other sort.....,

 

[Eulalia]

Yes, those poor Roman soldiers were completely knackered with all that deflowering -
worst of all were the ones whose virginity was miraculously protected
by interfering angels rendering the guards impotent (or even dead)
when the girls had been conveniently exposed for them in the military brothels

 

[Fox-on-Cross]

For Roman soldiers no empathy applies, they are without feelings or compassion, every morning ceremony followed by training with simulated fights, their character is robotic.

Every civilization has a rise and fall,
presumably reasons have been studied by many authors.
Well known is Gibbon.

Also for our Occident, we all become crucified.

 

[LittleSiss]

Yes, those poor Roman soldiers were completely knackered with all that deflowering -
worst of all were the ones whose virginity was miraculously protected
by interfering angels rendering the guards impotent (or even dead)
when the girls had been conveniently exposed for them in the military brothels

I was just going to say that!

 

[Barbaria1]

Yes, those poor Roman soldiers were completely knackered with all that deflowering -
worst of all were the ones whose virginity was miraculously protected
by interfering angels rendering the guards impotent (or even dead)
when the girls had been conveniently exposed for them in the military brothels

Angels we have heard on high ... strike those knaves where it hurts....

 

[Barbaria1]

I was herded naked into the arena along with nearly a hundred other frightened Christian girls, each accompanied by a muscular gladiator. As we entered, the roar of the crowd was deafening and I instinctively lifted my hands to cover my ears. My eyes widened as I took in the scene. Spaced evenly around the periphery of the killing ground was a ring of upright wooden posts with sharpened tips. Each post was fitted near the hilt of its tip with a heavy iron bracket from which four upwardly curving spikes protruded. With a shudder that coursed through my entire body, I realized my fate. They clearly intended to impale each and every one of us on these cruel instruments of death, and then watch us as we suffer a most horribly slow and agonizing death.

Perhaps sensing that I am about to bolt for an exit, my gladiatorial escort tightens his grip on my arms. Locked in his iron grip, I tremble uncontrollably, my legs feeling weak and wobbly, scarcely able to support my weight. The crowd begins to chant, many of them standing and shaking their fists. Whatever they are shouting is incomprehensible to me, but I know what is meant. They are calling for the entertainment to begin.

A loud horn is blown, its sound echoing around the closed space of the jam-packed arena. Immediately our gladiatorial handlers spring into action, hustling us toward the waiting spiked posts. I try to resist, but quickly give up. On reaching my post, I look on in horror as the blonde girl next to me is thrown to the arena floor and her legs tightly bound so as to open her wide for impaling. Quickly her muscular handler picks her up and lifts her high above her sharpened post. A moment later he pushes her down on it, its sharpened tip parting and then penetrating her tight little anus. She screams and sobs as she sinks slowly and inexorably down on her post, and the curved spikes scrape and then dig deeply and bloodily into the soft naked flesh of her shaking thighs.

I am grabbed by the chin, my head roughly jerked around. I look my gladiator in the eyes. They are dark and stare menacingly back at me through slits in his heavy iron helmet. He points to the sand-covered arena floor and grunts emphatically. I kneel obediently, sobbing quietly to myself as he swiftly rolls me on my side and binds my legs. Then he lifts me up effortlessly, holding me high and turns to display me and my forcibly spread sex to the hysterically screaming mob in the nearby stands. The chant from the stands echoes in my ears, “Impale her, impale her!!” He turns, positions me ceremoniously over my waiting post and then forces me down ... the sharpened point splitting and spreading my labia wide. He stops pressing me down for a moment to allow me to scream and struggle … much to the delight of the crowd … and then in a twisting grinding motion he forces the post deep inside me…. I gasp, shriek, throw my head and long brown hair about, and begin to squirm and writhe, which only increases the depth of my impalement, but I cannot stop doing it ... my long hours of terrible suffering for the entertainment of the crowd are about to begin...

 

[Wragg]

View attachment 212273

I was herded naked into the arena along with nearly a hundred other frightened Christian girls, each accompanied by a muscular gladiator. As we entered, the roar of the crowd was deafening and I instinctively lifted my hands to cover my ears. My eyes widened as I took in the scene. Spaced evenly around the periphery of the killing ground was a ring of upright wooden posts with sharpened tips. Each post was fitted near the hilt of its tip with a heavy iron bracket from which four upwardly curving spikes protruded. With a shudder that coursed through my entire body, I realized my fate. They clearly intended to impale each and every one of us on these cruel instruments of death, and then watch us as we suffer a most horribly slow and agonizing death.

Perhaps sensing that I am about to bolt for an exit, my gladiatorial escort tightens his grip on my arms. Locked in his iron grip, I tremble uncontrollably, my legs feeling weak and wobbly, scarcely able to support my weight. The crowd begins to chant, many of them standing and shaking their fists. Whatever they are shouting is incomprehensible to me, but I know what is meant. They are calling for the entertainment to begin.

A loud horn is blown, its sound echoing around the closed space of the jam-packed arena. Immediately our gladiatorial handlers spring into action, hustling us toward the waiting spiked posts. I try to resist, but quickly give up. On reaching my post, I look on in horror as the blonde girl next to me is thrown to the arena floor and her legs tightly bound so as to open her wide for impaling. Quickly her muscular handler picks her up and lifts her high above her sharpened post. A moment later he pushes her down on it, its sharpened tip parting and then penetrating her tight little anus. She screams and sobs as she sinks slowly and inexorably down on her post, and the curved spikes scrape and then dig deeply and bloodily into the soft naked flesh of her shaking thighs.

I am grabbed by the chin, my head roughly jerked around. I look my gladiator in the eyes. They are dark and stare menacingly back at me through slits in his heavy iron helmet. He points to the sand-covered arena floor and grunts emphatically. I kneel obediently, sobbing quietly to myself as he swiftly rolls me on my side and binds my legs. Then he lifts me up effortlessly, holding me high and turns to display me and my forcibly spread sex to the hysterically screaming mob in the nearby stands. The chant from the stands echoes in my ears, “Impale her, impale her!!” He turns, positions me ceremoniously over my waiting post and then forces me down ... the sharpened point splitting and spreading my labia wide. He stops pressing me down for a moment to allow me to scream and struggle … much to the delight of the crowd … and then in a twisting grinding motion he forces the post deep inside me…. I gasp, shriek, throw my head and long brown hair about, and begin to squirm and writhe, which only increases the depth of my impalement, but I cannot stop doing it ... my long hours of terrible suffering for the entertainment of the crowd are about to begin...

Oh, Lordy....impalement makes me shake all over

(Wimp )

 

[fat slave girl]

View attachment 211950 Angels we have heard on high ... strike those knaves where it hurts....

There must be an angel playing with my cunt...

 

[fat slave girl]

Forget all you have read or seen about the decline of the Roman empire..it's all nonsense. The real reason was those pesky Christian virgins making an almighty bloody nuisance of themselves. Just think of the manpower and money involved in those mass crucifixions. Well planed timber was hardly cheap and the cost of sturdy nails which would really grip the slippery hands was out of this world. Add to that the paperwork, rounding up, cross making, crowd control, crucifiers...the list is almost endless. And then!!...those virgins are at it again!!. Instead of being on their knees satisfying the randy menfolk they are on their knees praying!! They needed to be sorted; by law any obstinate Christian virgin would in future be taken to the Colosseum to be deflowered the hard way. They had brought it upon themselves but...think of all the extra work for the Colosseum staff, army, professional deflowerers, stake makers...... And while all this was going on who was guarding the borders from infiltration by Goths, Vandals, Gypsies, tramps, thieves, east European migrants, vagabonds, Erin the elf warrior, the German tourist and the Belgians and anyone else who fancied a slice of La Dolce Vita down south on the sunny Med. ?..No wonder the Empire collapsed.
Here is a pic kindly sent by Polly Perkins showing some poor over worked Nubian slave deflowering his umpteenth virgin of the afternoon.

View attachment 211890

Hey, gladiator boy! Over here, or are those muscles just for show? Bet you haven't got a spike big enough for this fat slut!

 

[The Fallen Angel]

View attachment 212273

I was herded naked into the arena along with nearly a hundred other frightened Christian girls, each accompanied by a muscular gladiator. As we entered, the roar of the crowd was deafening and I instinctively lifted my hands to cover my ears. My eyes widened as I took in the scene. Spaced evenly around the periphery of the killing ground was a ring of upright wooden posts with sharpened tips. Each post was fitted near the hilt of its tip with a heavy iron bracket from which four upwardly curving spikes protruded. With a shudder that coursed through my entire body, I realized my fate. They clearly intended to impale each and every one of us on these cruel instruments of death, and then watch us as we suffer a most horribly slow and agonizing death.

Perhaps sensing that I am about to bolt for an exit, my gladiatorial escort tightens his grip on my arms. Locked in his iron grip, I tremble uncontrollably, my legs feeling weak and wobbly, scarcely able to support my weight. The crowd begins to chant, many of them standing and shaking their fists. Whatever they are shouting is incomprehensible to me, but I know what is meant. They are calling for the entertainment to begin.

A loud horn is blown, its sound echoing around the closed space of the jam-packed arena. Immediately our gladiatorial handlers spring into action, hustling us toward the waiting spiked posts. I try to resist, but quickly give up. On reaching my post, I look on in horror as the blonde girl next to me is thrown to the arena floor and her legs tightly bound so as to open her wide for impaling. Quickly her muscular handler picks her up and lifts her high above her sharpened post. A moment later he pushes her down on it, its sharpened tip parting and then penetrating her tight little anus. She screams and sobs as she sinks slowly and inexorably down on her post, and the curved spikes scrape and then dig deeply and bloodily into the soft naked flesh of her shaking thighs.

I am grabbed by the chin, my head roughly jerked around. I look my gladiator in the eyes. They are dark and stare menacingly back at me through slits in his heavy iron helmet. He points to the sand-covered arena floor and grunts emphatically. I kneel obediently, sobbing quietly to myself as he swiftly rolls me on my side and binds my legs. Then he lifts me up effortlessly, holding me high and turns to display me and my forcibly spread sex to the hysterically screaming mob in the nearby stands. The chant from the stands echoes in my ears, “Impale her, impale her!!” He turns, positions me ceremoniously over my waiting post and then forces me down ... the sharpened point splitting and spreading my labia wide. He stops pressing me down for a moment to allow me to scream and struggle … much to the delight of the crowd … and then in a twisting grinding motion he forces the post deep inside me…. I gasp, shriek, throw my head and long brown hair about, and begin to squirm and writhe, which only increases the depth of my impalement, but I cannot stop doing it ... my long hours of terrible suffering for the entertainment of the crowd are about to begin...

Another little gem from Barbaria!

 

[Pia]

View attachment 212273

I was herded naked into the arena along with nearly a hundred other frightened Christian girls, each accompanied by a muscular gladiator. As we entered, the roar of the crowd was deafening and I instinctively lifted my hands to cover my ears. My eyes widened as I took in the scene. Spaced evenly around the periphery of the killing ground was a ring of upright wooden posts with sharpened tips. Each post was fitted near the hilt of its tip with a heavy iron bracket from which four upwardly curving spikes protruded. With a shudder that coursed through my entire body, I realized my fate. They clearly intended to impale each and every one of us on these cruel instruments of death, and then watch us as we suffer a most horribly slow and agonizing death.

Perhaps sensing that I am about to bolt for an exit, my gladiatorial escort tightens his grip on my arms. Locked in his iron grip, I tremble uncontrollably, my legs feeling weak and wobbly, scarcely able to support my weight. The crowd begins to chant, many of them standing and shaking their fists. Whatever they are shouting is incomprehensible to me, but I know what is meant. They are calling for the entertainment to begin.

A loud horn is blown, its sound echoing around the closed space of the jam-packed arena. Immediately our gladiatorial handlers spring into action, hustling us toward the waiting spiked posts. I try to resist, but quickly give up. On reaching my post, I look on in horror as the blonde girl next to me is thrown to the arena floor and her legs tightly bound so as to open her wide for impaling. Quickly her muscular handler picks her up and lifts her high above her sharpened post. A moment later he pushes her down on it, its sharpened tip parting and then penetrating her tight little anus. She screams and sobs as she sinks slowly and inexorably down on her post, and the curved spikes scrape and then dig deeply and bloodily into the soft naked flesh of her shaking thighs.

I am grabbed by the chin, my head roughly jerked around. I look my gladiator in the eyes. They are dark and stare menacingly back at me through slits in his heavy iron helmet. He points to the sand-covered arena floor and grunts emphatically. I kneel obediently, sobbing quietly to myself as he swiftly rolls me on my side and binds my legs. Then he lifts me up effortlessly, holding me high and turns to display me and my forcibly spread sex to the hysterically screaming mob in the nearby stands. The chant from the stands echoes in my ears, “Impale her, impale her!!” He turns, positions me ceremoniously over my waiting post and then forces me down ... the sharpened point splitting and spreading my labia wide. He stops pressing me down for a moment to allow me to scream and struggle … much to the delight of the crowd … and then in a twisting grinding motion he forces the post deep inside me…. I gasp, shriek, throw my head and long brown hair about, and begin to squirm and writhe, which only increases the depth of my impalement, but I cannot stop doing it ... my long hours of terrible suffering for the entertainment of the crowd are about to begin...

You are soaking me Barbs!!!!!!

 

[Barbaria1]

You are soaking me Barbs!!!!!!

good!!!!

 

[fat slave girl]

Me too, you naughty, naughty minx!

 

[123456789ify]

спасибо

 

[Wragg]

спасибо

Не говоря уже о, мой друг! Вы бы иметь возможность поставить ваш ответ через Google Translate на благо тех из нас, которые не говорят по-русски?

Don't mention it, my friend! Would you be able to put your reply through Google Translate for the benefit of those of us that don't speak Russian?

 

[pontiopilato]

Does writing about an impalement constitute a post script?