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Jastrow's Pic of the Day

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Jastrow said:
Thursday, June 28, 2018–Day 179. ""After being nailed to the cross and left to die, she soon learned that Roman justice can be hard...very hard..." Entitled "Hard Justice".
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I like this one and feel inspired to write a backstory about it on Eul’s new Crux short stories thread.
 
Jastrow said:
Thursday, June 28, 2018–Day 179. ""After being nailed to the cross and left to die, she soon learned that Roman justice can be hard...very hard..." Entitled "Hard Justice".
Click to expand...

Well, as usual my twisted fantasies involve massive miscarriages of Justice, but let that lie. Her agonized expression, brutalized body, and privy parts on pitiless display precisely suit them there twisted fantasies.

Well. Damn. Done. Jas. :very_hot:
 

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connoisseurs said:
18 minutes ago and I´m still waiting ....
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Writing takes time ... it’s there now.

Here is the text copied here:

They say Roman justice is hard justice. I’d agree with that, but in my case it’s unfair justice. I don’t belong on this cross! The word “guilty” inscribed in my titulus is nothing but a naked lie!

I’m simply nothing more than a victim of Roman politics ... of the evil, backstabbing machinations that typify the never ending quest for imperial power.

I did nothing wrong. I committed no crime. I was simply the daughter of a Roman general ... barbarian by birth, but uplifted to prominence and Roman citizenship by his glorious service to the Empire ...and deemed a threat by his enemies in Rome who feared his growing popularity.

So they came in the night, invaded our villa, slew his bodyguards and arrested the entire household. I was taken from my bed and dragged off to a cell somewhere deep in the city, stripped of my clothing, abused unmercifully by my jailers, and hauled at dawn, along with the rest of my family and household, before a mock court. We were condemned without defense for trumped up treasonous acts, stripped of our Roman citizenship, and taken away to be publicly executed.

And so, here I hang at the side of the road just beyond the city gates ... naked and lewdly exposed to each and every passerby ...third in line after my father and mother, and followed in line by siblings, servants and slaves ... my titulus bearing the single word ... an outright lie ... “guilty”.

I twist and writhe in the fearsome heat of the summer day ... my skin sheened in sweat, filthy and marred by the whip ... my fingers flexing and clawing at air as the nails through my wrists grind painfully at nerves and bone ... my legs splayed to openly display my battered womanhood,

I do my best to close my ears to the taunts and ridicule. I shut my eyes and focus my mind elsewhere ... channel it into angry thoughts and imaginary acts of revenge.

There is no such thing, I know for certain, as Roman justice ... there is only Roman guile, jealousy, treachery and deception.

My titulus should more rightly read ‘innocent victim” rather than “guilty”.
 
Barbaria1 said:
Writing takes time ... it’s there now.

Here is the text copied here:

They say Roman justice is hard justice. I’d agree with that, but in my case it’s unfair justice. I don’t belong on this cross! The word “guilty” inscribed in my titulus is nothing but a naked lie!

I’m simply nothing more than a victim of Roman politics ... of the evil, backstabbings machinations that typify the never ending quest for imperial power.

I did nothing wrong. I committed no crime. I was simply the daughter of a Roman general ... barbarian by birth, but uplifted to prominence and Roman citizenship by his glorious service to the Empire ...and deemed a threat by his enemies in Rome who feared his growing popularity.

So they came in the night, invaded our villa, slew his bodyguards and arrested the entire household. I was taken from my bed and dragged off to a cell somewhere deep in the city, stripped of my clothing and abused unmercifully by my jailers,and hauled at dawn, along with the rest of my family and household , before a mock court. We were condemned without defense for trumped up treasonous acts, stripped of our Roman citizenship, and taken away to be publicly executed.

And so, here I hang at the side of the road just beyond the city gates ... naked and lewdly exposed to each and every passerby ...third in line after my father and mother, and followed in line by siblings, servants and slaves ... my titulus bearing the single word ... an outright lie ... “guilty”.

I twist and writhe in the fearsome heat of the summer day ... my skin sheened in sweat, filthy and marred by the whip ... my fingers flexing and clawing at air as the nails through my wrists grind painfully at nerves and bone ... my legs splayed to openly display my battered womanhood,

I do my best to close my ears to the taunts and ridicule. I shut my eyes and focus my mind elsewhere ... channel it into angry thoughts and imaginary acts of revenge.

There is no such thing, I know for certain,as Roman justice ...there is only Roman guile, jealousy, treachery and deception.

My titulus should more rightly read ‘innocent victim” rather than “guilty”.
Click to expand...

I LOVE it!!! You should write all of my backstories!
 
Barbaria1 said:
Writing takes time ... it’s there now.

Here is the text copied here:

They say Roman justice is hard justice. I’d agree with that, but in my case it’s unfair justice. I don’t belong on this cross! The word “guilty” inscribed in my titulus is nothing but a naked lie!

I’m simply nothing more than a victim of Roman politics ... of the evil, backstabbing machinations that typify the never ending quest for imperial power.

I did nothing wrong. I committed no crime. I was simply the daughter of a Roman general ... barbarian by birth, but uplifted to prominence and Roman citizenship by his glorious service to the Empire ...and deemed a threat by his enemies in Rome who feared his growing popularity.

So they came in the night, invaded our villa, slew his bodyguards and arrested the entire household. I was taken from my bed and dragged off to a cell somewhere deep in the city, stripped of my clothing, abused unmercifully by my jailers, and hauled at dawn, along with the rest of my family and household, before a mock court. We were condemned without defense for trumped up treasonous acts, stripped of our Roman citizenship, and taken away to be publicly executed.

And so, here I hang at the side of the road just beyond the city gates ... naked and lewdly exposed to each and every passerby ...third in line after my father and mother, and followed in line by siblings, servants and slaves ... my titulus bearing the single word ... an outright lie ... “guilty”.

I twist and writhe in the fearsome heat of the summer day ... my skin sheened in sweat, filthy and marred by the whip ... my fingers flexing and clawing at air as the nails through my wrists grind painfully at nerves and bone ... my legs splayed to openly display my battered womanhood,

I do my best to close my ears to the taunts and ridicule. I shut my eyes and focus my mind elsewhere ... channel it into angry thoughts and imaginary acts of revenge.

There is no such thing, I know for certain, as Roman justice ... there is only Roman guile, jealousy, treachery and deception.

My titulus should more rightly read ‘innocent victim” rather than “guilty”.
Click to expand...

If there would be at least a rest of humaneness left in me I would feel pity for you. So I just indulge in this Story.
Wonderful written!
 
Friday, June 29, 2018–Day 180. This is a reworking of a rendering I did in 2012 and called "Like Mother Like Daughter". It features an already crucified mom, watching as her daughter is introduced to the art of fellatio. I decided to do some improvements to the rendering. I changed the layout and positions of the figures in it. I also changed the texture for the guy who is lucky enough to be on the receiving end of the daughter’s efforts. Apostate didn’t like the way the daughter’s arms were positioned in the original (he’s never satisfied!) so I changed that. A new background and some additional evidence of the abuse the two ladies have already received on their bodies complete the changes. I’ve called the new image "A Daughter’s New Skill". She won’t have time to use her new found skills very much, as there is a cross waiting for her once he delivers his load down her throat and all over her pretty tear-streaked face....
 

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Jastrow said:
Apostate didn’t like the way the daughter’s arms were positioned in the original (he’s never satisfied!) so I changed that.
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"Yea, verily, as it says in the Book of Proverbs, chapter 22, jackson 5, 'Ask, and ye shall receive. Seek, and he shall find. Bitch, and Jas shall cut unto you some slack.'"

And lo, it came to pass.

By which I mean the new, improved version is exactly what I had in mind. Excessive thanks. :very_hot:

Oh, almost forgot. I am satisfied.

This time. ;)
 

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Jastrow said:
Apostate didn’t like the way the daughter’s arms were positioned in the original (he’s never satisfied!)
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I'm sure the girl's glad Uncle Apostate's there telling her how to position her arms,
she wants to get it right, doesn't she?
I love her wide-eyed mixture of anxiousness and adoration!
 
Eulalia said:
I'm sure the girl's glad Uncle Apostate's there telling her how to position her arms,
she wants to get it right, doesn't she?
I love her wide-eyed mixture of anxiousness and adoration!
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Sorry, Eulalia, I see neither in this poor child's face. More like "Holy SHIT! What NOW???"

Oh well, "eye of the beholder" and all that. ;)
 

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Saturday, June 30, 2018–Day 181. "She’d pleaded for mercy throughout her ordeal. ‘Mercy,’ he snorted. ‘They don’t pay me to be merciful...and they pay me little enough, as it is.’ Still, the job had its perks. How may jobs allowed you to strip and rape a pretty girl...to whip her brutally...to drive nails through her wrists and ankles...to put her suffering nude body on display for all to see? They told him she was a traitor. He didn’t know if that was true or not and he didn’t care. She was just another wretch to die on his cross. He’d watched her dance in agony for several hours now. Occasionally he’d go over and slap her tits...twist and pull on her nipples or roughly drive a finger deep into her tender twat just to keep her awake. And she still begged for mercy. Hadn’t she learned that mercy wasn’t in his blood? Still, he’d noticed she was growing weaker and he didn’t want her to die too soon. It was time to set the cornu. He knew she wouldn’t like that much. She’d squealed like a stuck pig earlier when he’d taken her up her ass for what was obviously the first time in her young life. The cornu was much bigger than he was and its surface rough and coarse. She wouldn’t like that one bit! ‘There’s mercy for you....’ he thought. Perhaps in a few days when she was near death anyway, he actually would show her some mercy. An iron bar to her knees would do the job nicely. Then he could go to the brothel and visit his favorite whore. She had dark hair just like this girl had. And as he brutally fucked his whore, he’d remember this girl. As he drove deep into the tight wetness of her body, he would smile... and show her no mercy..." Entitled, "No Mercy".
 

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Jastrow said:
Saturday, June 30, 2018–Day 181. "She’d pleaded for mercy throughout her ordeal. ‘Mercy,’ he snorted. ‘They don’t pay me to be merciful...and they pay me little enough, as it is.’ Still, the job had its perks. How may jobs allowed you to strip and rape a pretty girl...to whip her brutally...to drive nails through her wrists and ankles...to put her suffering nude body on display for all to see? They told him she was a traitor. He didn’t know if that was true or not and he didn’t care. She was just another wretch to die on his cross. He’d watched her dance in agony for several hours now. Occasionally he’d go over and slap her tits...twist and pull on her nipples or roughly drive a finger deep into her tender twat just to keep her awake. And she still begged for mercy. Hadn’t she learned that mercy wasn’t in his blood? Still, he’d noticed she was growing weaker and he didn’t want her to die too soon. It was time to set the cornu. He knew she wouldn’t like that much. She’d squealed like a stuck pig earlier when he’d taken her up her ass for what was obviously the first time in her young life. The cornu was much bigger than he was and its surface rough and coarse. She wouldn’t like that one bit! ‘There’s mercy for you....’ he thought. Perhaps in a few days when she was near death anyway, he actually would show her some mercy. An iron bar to her knees would do the job nicely. Then he could go to the brothel and visit his favorite whore. She had dark hair just like this girl had. And as he brutally fucked his whore, he’d remember this girl. As he drove deep into the tight wetness of her body, he would smile... and show her no mercy..." Entitled, "No Mercy".
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Great story Jastrow! I like how you applied his own life to that of his job of being an executioner by crucifixion.
 
Jastrow said:
Saturday, June 30, 2018–Day 181. "She’d pleaded for mercy throughout her ordeal. ‘Mercy,’ he snorted. ‘They don’t pay me to be merciful...and they pay me little enough, as it is.’ Still, the job had its perks. How may jobs allowed you to strip and rape a pretty girl...to whip her brutally...to drive nails through her wrists and ankles...to put her suffering nude body on display for all to see? They told him she was a traitor. He didn’t know if that was true or not and he didn’t care. She was just another wretch to die on his cross. He’d watched her dance in agony for several hours now. Occasionally he’d go over and slap her tits...twist and pull on her nipples or roughly drive a finger deep into her tender twat just to keep her awake. And she still begged for mercy. Hadn’t she learned that mercy wasn’t in his blood? Still, he’d noticed she was growing weaker and he didn’t want her to die too soon. It was time to set the cornu. He knew she wouldn’t like that much. She’d squealed like a stuck pig earlier when he’d taken her up her ass for what was obviously the first time in her young life. The cornu was much bigger than he was and its surface rough and coarse. She wouldn’t like that one bit! ‘There’s mercy for you....’ he thought. Perhaps in a few days when she was near death anyway, he actually would show her some mercy. An iron bar to her knees would do the job nicely. Then he could go to the brothel and visit his favorite whore. She had dark hair just like this girl had. And as he brutally fucked his whore, he’d remember this girl. As he drove deep into the tight wetness of her body, he would smile... and show her no mercy..." Entitled, "No Mercy".
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Over 4 years, he will be honorably dismissed from the army.
The emperor shall reward him with his deferred pay, a pension, and a plot of land.
Shall he peacefully retire, and spend his time growing vegetables?
Or shall it be difficult to say farewell to his 'duties' in the army?
 
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