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Some Sketches

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You're not alone. Sisters in fate will accompany you till the last breath.
 

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A special gift for @Eulalia : a linocut print. I found this technique attractive and the last week I made some four or five little blocks (each a matchbox size). However still I prefer less time-consumming techniques, so perhaps it is the last one.
 

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When the nails were driven through her wrists, Miriam, writhing in pain, thought that at least she would avoid being further sexually abused. How much she was surprised when she realised that her humiliation and abusement did just begin...
 

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And a woman who looks like she is fucking the cross.......
Crucially here, I think the opposite is true. The cross is fucking her, and she has no choice, no way to avoid it; she is utterly powerless against being raped by a simple cross.
 
Crucially here, I think the opposite is true. The cross is fucking her, and she has no choice, no way to avoid it; she is utterly powerless against being raped by a simple cross.
It's funny. That was the way I originally wrote it, and I know exactly what you mean. But I looked at it again and decided to interpret her body language as more 'active'. I am, however, unreliable here, seeing as that is my sexual preference!
 
A little blonde on her last way (1 of 2).

A great sequence telling a story, very nicely done. I love #5, you've got the angle and the figure just right, even her raised and slightly tilted chin.
Blonde 05.jpg

I do too. Can’t help but imagine that I’m one of them. Compelling art, Andyman!

I can't help but imagine that you are one of them too, Barb :)

A special gift for @Eulalia : a linocut print. I found this technique attractive and the last week I made some four or five little blocks (each a matchbox size). However still I prefer less time-consumming techniques, so perhaps it is the last one.

Now this - this is beautiful, fantastic. I love your move into a different medium, the result is well worth the effort.
 
A great sequence telling a story, very nicely done. I love #5, you've got the angle and the figure just right, even her raised and slightly tilted chin.
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I can't help but imagine that you are one of them too, Barb :)



Now this - this is beautiful, fantastic. I love your move into a different medium, the result is well worth the effort.

Blonde 05.jpg

Simply drawn but extremely graphic. Lovely, slender legs. I'm trying to imagine her pain and horror as she feels the nails pass through her wrists knowing that this is just the beginning of immeasurably more pain and degradation.

Her feet and toes are twisted and legs spread wide in an almost orgasmic pose. The insides of her thighs are sticky with cum from multiple rapes. Her anus and pussy must be full of it. It'll drip out of her when hanging and help lubricate the passage of the cornu as she is lowered onto it. The crowd will love every moment of it.

But it's horrible! Horrible! As a female spectator I wince at what is happening to her. I look away from the awful scene of watching a tortured woman being nailed to a wooden beam. My heart pounding. That could be happening to me! I could be that poor bitch being crucified.

Yet, I look back, horrified, disgusted . . . but strangely enthralled by the bloody spectacle. Fuck her! She probably deserves it. Scream you bitch! Scream! Wait! A woman is being crucified! And I feel like this? What is this? Why should I? What's wrong with me? Or is anything wrong with me?

I'm wet . . . suddenly aware of it . . . should be ashamed . . . but I'm wet . . . why? Why? There's an ache in my pussy. My hand brushes over my breast, its nipple suddenly hard and sensitive. I want to stroke more, but my modesty prevents me from behaving like a wanton slut. I'm lightheaded and I pass my hand again over my tumescent nipple. Then to my other breast. My heart races and I breathe deeply as waves of pleasure run through me. My legs grow weak. I hope no one is looking at me. Just look at the bitch on the ground everyone! Don't look at me! But some men in the crowd do take notice of me. I see them, blushing. I cross my arms over my chest, hiding the evidence of my arousal. One points and says something to the other. They approach me and I'm suddenly very scared. Why did I come out here? Stupid thing to do! Not a safe place to be for a young woman. I begin to walk away from them.

But the men stop and turn to watch when the woman screams again. The ends of her crossbeam are being raised up, pulling her to her feet. So much howling as she is stood up and walked backward to the upright. Now standing at the upright her trembling legs give out, she drops down, suddenly stretching out her arms and pulling against the nails in her wrists. More screaming and howling, and cursing. I wince seeing her flesh pulling against the nails. The blood flowing down her arms. So awful! Then a gush of urine down between her legs as they drag her up on the upright then lower her body onto the cornu. They get it inserted deeply up her anus then quickly nail her feet as she writhes in agony, curses and howls. She suddenly goes silent as her body drops on the cross. She's lost consciousness.

The executioners step back to examine their handiwork. She's crucified. She's allowed a few moments of being pain free before regaining awareness of that horrible fact.

I leave and hurry home . . . to my bed . . . where I can relieve the ache between my . . . . in my . . . oh my . . . .
 
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Simply drawn but extremely graphic. Lovely, slender legs. I'm trying to imagine her pain and horror as she feels the nails pass through her wrists knowing that this is just the beginning of immeasurably more pain and degradation.

Her feet and toes are twisted and legs spread wide in an almost orgasmic pose. The insides of her thighs are sticky with cum from multiple rapes. Her anus and pussy must be full of it. It'll drip out of her when hanging and help lubricate the passage of the cornu as she is lowered onto it. The crowd will love every moment of it.

But it's horrible! Horrible! As a female spectator I wince at what is happening to her. I look away from the awful scene of watching a tortured woman being nailed to a wooden beam. My heart pounding. That could be happening to me! I could be that poor bitch being crucified.

Yet, I look back, horrified, disgusted . . . but strangely enthralled by the bloody spectacle. Fuck her! She probably deserves it. Scream you bitch! Scream!

I'm wet . . . suddenly aware of it . . . should be ashamed . . . but I'm wet . . . why? Why? There's an ache in my pussy. My hand brushes over my breast, its nipple suddenly hard and sensitive. I want to stroke more, but my modesty prevents me from behaving like a wanton slut. I'm lightheaded and I pass my hand again over my tumescent nipple. Then to my other breast. My heart races and I breathe deeply as waves of pleasure run through me. My legs grow weak. I hope no one is looking at me. Just look at the bitch on the ground everyone! Don't look at me! But some men in the crowd do take notice of me. I see them, blushing. I cross my arms over my chest, hiding the evidence of my arousal. One points and says something to the other. They approach me and I'm suddenly very scared. Why did I come out here? Stupid thing to do! Not a safe place to be for a young woman. I begin to walk away from them.

But the men stop and turn to watch when the woman screams again. The ends of her crossbeam are being raised up, pulling her to her feet. So much howling as she is stood up and walked backward to the upright. Now standing at the upright her trembling legs give out, she drops down, suddenly stretching out her arms and pulling against the nails in her wrists. More screaming and howling, and cursing. I wince seeing her flesh pulling against the nails. The blood flowing down her arms. So awful! Then a gush of urine down between her legs as they drag her up on the upright then lower her body onto the cornu. They get it inserted deeply up her anus then quickly nail her feet as she writhes in agony, curses and howls. She suddenly goes silent as her body drops on the cross. She's lost consciousness.

The executioners step back to examine their handiwork. She's crucified. She's allowed a few moments of being pain free before regaining awareness of that horrible fact.

I leave and hurry home . . . to my bed . . . where I can relieve the ache between my . . . . in my . . . oh my . . . .
That is a wonderfully exciting piece of writing! You really bring out the eroticism of watching.
 
View attachment 776307

Simply drawn but extremely graphic. Lovely, slender legs. I'm trying to imagine her pain and horror as she feels the nails pass through her wrists knowing that this is just the beginning of immeasurably more pain and degradation.

Her feet and toes are twisted and legs spread wide in an almost orgasmic pose. The insides of her thighs are sticky with cum from multiple rapes. Her anus and pussy must be full of it. It'll drip out of her when hanging and help lubricate the passage of the cornu as she is lowered onto it. The crowd will love every moment of it.

I knew it would be worth stopping by the execution place. A woman, an attractive one too, being nailed to a cross. Rufus and I have a prime view, right up and between her legs as the nails fix her wrists to the beam. Her body twists and arches in agony, her breasts bounce, her pussy open to the sky. God Pan how I would like to be there, between her thighs, I am already hard at the thought! Her arms wide, her breasts thrust high, her cunt open and ready to welcome my phallus. It's almost unbearable, she is so close and yet unavailable!

Rufus is looking around the crowd, Gods know why. Ah, I see now!

My heart races and I breathe deeply as waves of pleasure run through me. My legs grow weak. I hope no one is looking at me. Just look at the bitch on the ground everyone! Don't look at me! But some men in the crowd do take notice of me. I see them, blushing. I cross my arms over my chest, hiding the evidence of my arousal. One points and says something to the other. They approach me and I'm suddenly very scared. Why did I come out here? Stupid thing to do! Not a safe place to be for a young woman. I begin to walk away from them.

He has spotted another who is enthralled by the spectacle. A young woman, flushed and looking uncomfortable at the sight of her sister's ordeal. Could it be? Could she be as aroused as I am at this woman's suffering and humiliation? Could she secretly wish to experience it herself? her hands stray to her breasts, half covering and half touching. I grin to myself.

Rufus begins to walk towards this woman, and I follow.

But the men stop and turn to watch when the woman screams again. The ends of her crossbeam are being raised up, pulling her to her feet. So much howling as she is stood up and walked backward to the upright. Now standing at the upright her trembling legs give out, she drops down, suddenly stretching out her arms and pulling against the nails in her wrists. More screaming and howling, and cursing. I wince seeing her flesh pulling against the nails. The blood flowing down her arms. So awful! Then a gush of urine down between her legs as they drag her up on the upright then lower her body onto the cornu. They get it inserted deeply up her anus then quickly nail her feet as she writhes in agony, curses and howls. She suddenly goes silent as her body drops on the cross. She's lost consciousness.

A piercing scream calls us back to the crucified slut. Her weight is now on her wrists, and we watch her raised up the pole. There is a cornu there waiting for her, and we are fascinated to see her being lowered onto it, her arsehole forced so wide to receive it, body slowly sliding down, writhing and howling. She shudders as it buries deep inside her. I feel envy for that wooden spike!

I leave and hurry home . . . to my bed . . . where I can relieve the ache between my . . . . in my . . . oh my . . . .

Where did the other woman go, the wanton who was getting all wet about the crucifixion? Scurried home no doubt to rub herself raw at the memory. What is wrong with this world that two women should go to waste like that in a single day? Ah, back to work. Come on Rufus you horny bastard! Stop staring at the crucified slut, we have bills to pay!
 
I knew it would be worth stopping by the execution place. A woman, an attractive one too, being nailed to a cross. Rufus and I have a prime view, right up and between her legs as the nails fix her wrists to the beam. Her body twists and arches in agony, her breasts bounce, her pussy open to the sky. God Pan how I would like to be there, between her thighs, I am already hard at the thought! Her arms wide, her breasts thrust high, her cunt open and ready to welcome my phallus. It's almost unbearable, she is so close and yet unavailable!

Rufus is looking around the crowd, Gods know why. Ah, I see now!



He has spotted another who is enthralled by the spectacle. A young woman, flushed and looking uncomfortable at the sight of her sister's ordeal. Could it be? Could she be as aroused as I am at this woman's suffering and humiliation? Could she secretly wish to experience it herself? her hands stray to her breasts, half covering and half touching. I grin to myself.

Rufus begins to walk towards this woman, and I follow.



A piercing scream calls us back to the crucified slut. Her weight is now on her wrists, and we watch her raised up the pole. There is a cornu there waiting for her, and we are fascinated to see her being lowered onto it, her arsehole forced so wide to receive it, body slowly sliding down, writhing and howling. She shudders as it buries deep inside her. I feel envy for that wooden spike!



Where did the other woman go, the wanton who was getting all wet about the crucifixion? Scurried home no doubt to rub herself raw at the memory. What is wrong with this world that two women should go to waste like that in a single day? Ah, back to work. Come on Rufus you horny bastard! Stop staring at the crucified slut, we have bills to pay!

Soon . . . back at her place . . .

erotica-pornsite-reviews-amateur-female-masturbation-orgasm.jpg Uhhh, uhhh, uhh! Almost there! No, wait . . .slow down, not so quick. Enjoy it. Back off . . . then feel the pleasure build again. By the gods, what aroused me so? That poor girl! Why? Why do I feel like this. I can see myself in her place . . . stretched out, naked, nailed! Everyone looking at me! A crucified bitch! Oh! Oh! Oh!!!!!!!!!!!

What would those two men have done to me? Oh my! Oh! Oh! Ohhhhh!

Oh, Marcella, what a fucking wicked cunt you are! Perhaps I should go again when a woman is being crucified. Perhaps . . . .

(Her urges relieved, she rolls over, curls up and sleeps . . . perchance to dream . . .)
 
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