Barb is checking her list twice to determine which CFers are naughty or nice. The naughty will receive holiday demerits!
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Hark the Herald Angels Whinge
- Thread starter Wragg
- Start date
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Mmmmm! The first'one was not bad ...
But he was returning ...
... and yet !!!
... all the night ! 
M
montycrusto
Guest
While henchmen oiled their racks by night,
In dungeons underground,
The Angel of the lord came down
And on their work she frowned.
“I see,” she said, “a cruel device,
On which a girl might find
Herself unclothed and tightly bound,
Oh men are so unkind!”
Thus spake the angel and forthwith
Began her lip to bite.
It made her get quite moist downstairs,
To think of such a plight.
“Behold,” they said, “this angel here,
It seemeth might enjoy
Being stripped of all her heav’nly cloths,
And stretched upon our toy.”
They seized her then and tore her clothes,
Till nakedly she stood,
Then threw they her across the rack,
And bound her to the wood.
“Oh help me Lord!” the angel cried,
As tightened they the rope,
“Alas, what orgasm builds within,
I’m lost, beyond all hope!”
“She likes it,” said the henchmen bold,
“Her juice begins to flow.
Let’s stretch the bitch until she screams,
And see how far she’ll go.”
They turned the capstan and forthwith,
There came a guttural yell.
“Oh fuck me! Fuck me hard I pray!
Ohh fuck me! Bloody hell!”
The henchmen did as they were bid,
And fucked the angel hard.
A festive scene to bring you cheer,
On any Christmas card!
In dungeons underground,
The Angel of the lord came down
And on their work she frowned.
“I see,” she said, “a cruel device,
On which a girl might find
Herself unclothed and tightly bound,
Oh men are so unkind!”
Thus spake the angel and forthwith
Began her lip to bite.
It made her get quite moist downstairs,
To think of such a plight.
“Behold,” they said, “this angel here,
It seemeth might enjoy
Being stripped of all her heav’nly cloths,
And stretched upon our toy.”
They seized her then and tore her clothes,
Till nakedly she stood,
Then threw they her across the rack,
And bound her to the wood.
“Oh help me Lord!” the angel cried,
As tightened they the rope,
“Alas, what orgasm builds within,
I’m lost, beyond all hope!”
“She likes it,” said the henchmen bold,
“Her juice begins to flow.
Let’s stretch the bitch until she screams,
And see how far she’ll go.”
They turned the capstan and forthwith,
There came a guttural yell.
“Oh fuck me! Fuck me hard I pray!
Ohh fuck me! Bloody hell!”
The henchmen did as they were bid,
And fucked the angel hard.
A festive scene to bring you cheer,
On any Christmas card!
Last edited by a moderator:
MESSALINE!!!View attachment 1103028 Mmmmm! The first'one was not bad ...
View attachment 1103029 But he was returning ...
View attachment 1103031 ... and yet !!!
View attachment 1103032 ... all the night !
You're supposed to be an ANGEL!
Mind you, come to think of it, that may be the definition of an angel!
And so it is that the populations on each and every one of these planets require Salvation. There is only one ultimate deity, and, once He’d hit upon a scheme that worked for enough of the population to keep things in the Afterlife nicely balanced, He used the same system pretty much everywhere.
Ohhh fuck! Why me?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Because 'The Boss' aka 'The One Ultimate Deity' is also a CF-member!Ohhh fuck! Why me?
M
montycrusto
Guest
@god6669182 ?Because 'The Boss' aka 'The One Ultimate Deity' is also a CF-member!
You wouldn't, perchance, be speaking autobiographically at all? No, I didn't think so.
Bob sleeps?
Not that I’ve ever noticedBob sleeps?
Why is God always portrayed as this stern, bad-tempered personage? Apparently, he wants to save everyone, but all these anger-management issues seem to get in the way.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
A matter of : "Old habits die hard!?"Why is God always portrayed as this stern, bad-tempered personage? Apparently, he wants to save everyone, but all these anger-management issues seem to get in the way.
But it's a hard job being a creator of crucifixionsA matter of : "Old habits die hard!?"
New photoset with new model Darina.
Starting from August 19, we start publishing a new photoset with a new model. Several photos can be seen here: The entire photoset can be seen on http://www.cruxdreams.com
www.cruxforums.com
bobinder
ARTISAN
Mmmmm! The first'one was not bad ...
I am led to believe she assists me in staying awake during these extraordinary vigils.MESSALINE!!!
You're supposed to be an ANGEL!
If Jollyrei had expected Wragg and Barb to share his enthusiasm for the project, he was sorely disappointed.
“I take it we have a decent venue for this performance?” enquired Wragg. “Nice stage, big audience, maybe a nice big organ?”
“Er, not quite… A few metres above a field. We’re performing to some shepherds. They might have big organs, I didn’t ask. Better bring your harp, anyway.”
“A few metres above a field?” Barb was incredulous. “Have you forgotten how Wragg and I got here?”
“I don’t know… did you overturn a cart or something? You are rather accident prone.”
“No! I was a very careful driver! But our last memories of earth were from a few metres above the ground. Held there by four very sharp and very uncomfortable nails and some very rough timber.”
“I told you that Spartacus guy was a loser, Barb,” grumbled Wragg. “Did you listen? You never listened to a word I said!”
“Oh, don’t start that again! You were keen as mustard to get after the Romans, it was your idea, not mine!”
"It never was!”
“Can it, you two!” Jollyrei wondered what he’d done to deserve having these two assigned to his section. They never stopped squabbling! “No wood, no nails, just flutter your wings and sing!”
“Yes, but…”
“But what, Barb?”
“But crucifixion leaves you with vertigo!”
Jollyrei groaned. Angels with vertigo. He was getting one of his headaches. “You are angels, now! You cannot crash to the ground. You have wings. Just sing this, and then we can go home.” He passed over a couple of scores.”
“Gloria in excelsis Deo? But… but… that’s Latin!” Wragg spat the word.
“Latin is a beautiful language…”
“No, it bloody isn’t. Romans speak Latin. I hate Latin.”
“And where do I get my outfit?” asked Barb.
“Outfit?” Jollyrei was nonplussed.
“Yes! Outfit! Duh! You can’t expect me to appear in front of a load of randy shepherds looking like this!”
“Whyever not? You look perfectly fine to me.” She’d completely lost Jollyrei.
“But I’m naked!”
“Of course you are. All angels are naked. This is Heaven, you know!”
“You’re not naked!” observed Wragg.
“Now look here, Wragg! I grafted for millennia on the sorting desk before I earned these archangel robes! If you think you’re getting them for a simple bit of singing, you’ve got another think coming!”
“It’s not fair!” grumbled Barb.
Jollyrei decided that it was high time to exert his authority. “Now, look here, you two. You can do as the Most High Bobinder decrees, and do it well and cheerfully, or you can scrub the latrines for the remainder of Eternity. Your choice.”
“Yes, yes, alright.” Barb looked grumpy. “There’s no need for threats. We’ll sing your blasted anthem. Just don’t expect us to enjoy it!”
“I take it we have a decent venue for this performance?” enquired Wragg. “Nice stage, big audience, maybe a nice big organ?”
“Er, not quite… A few metres above a field. We’re performing to some shepherds. They might have big organs, I didn’t ask. Better bring your harp, anyway.”
“A few metres above a field?” Barb was incredulous. “Have you forgotten how Wragg and I got here?”
“I don’t know… did you overturn a cart or something? You are rather accident prone.”
“No! I was a very careful driver! But our last memories of earth were from a few metres above the ground. Held there by four very sharp and very uncomfortable nails and some very rough timber.”
“I told you that Spartacus guy was a loser, Barb,” grumbled Wragg. “Did you listen? You never listened to a word I said!”
“Oh, don’t start that again! You were keen as mustard to get after the Romans, it was your idea, not mine!”
"It never was!”
“Can it, you two!” Jollyrei wondered what he’d done to deserve having these two assigned to his section. They never stopped squabbling! “No wood, no nails, just flutter your wings and sing!”
“Yes, but…”
“But what, Barb?”
“But crucifixion leaves you with vertigo!”
Jollyrei groaned. Angels with vertigo. He was getting one of his headaches. “You are angels, now! You cannot crash to the ground. You have wings. Just sing this, and then we can go home.” He passed over a couple of scores.”
“Gloria in excelsis Deo? But… but… that’s Latin!” Wragg spat the word.
“Latin is a beautiful language…”
“No, it bloody isn’t. Romans speak Latin. I hate Latin.”
“And where do I get my outfit?” asked Barb.
“Outfit?” Jollyrei was nonplussed.
“Yes! Outfit! Duh! You can’t expect me to appear in front of a load of randy shepherds looking like this!”
“Whyever not? You look perfectly fine to me.” She’d completely lost Jollyrei.
“But I’m naked!”
“Of course you are. All angels are naked. This is Heaven, you know!”
“You’re not naked!” observed Wragg.
“Now look here, Wragg! I grafted for millennia on the sorting desk before I earned these archangel robes! If you think you’re getting them for a simple bit of singing, you’ve got another think coming!”
“It’s not fair!” grumbled Barb.
Jollyrei decided that it was high time to exert his authority. “Now, look here, you two. You can do as the Most High Bobinder decrees, and do it well and cheerfully, or you can scrub the latrines for the remainder of Eternity. Your choice.”
“Yes, yes, alright.” Barb looked grumpy. “There’s no need for threats. We’ll sing your blasted anthem. Just don’t expect us to enjoy it!”