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Facing The Wood (2)

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I've just discovered this poem today and I like it : well described !:clapping:

I notice that your illustration is coming from a French comic that I've and that I'd posted at the foundation and here too, I think ...
It's called "Attila mon amour" and the authors are Milton and Bonnet : I like when they're noticed ....;)
000 No Nails, No Tits 1.jpg
 
I dont know if the comic'story is near or not from reality : in fact, Galla was in love with Aetius, the Legate of Augustus near Attila ... She was crucified when her father was knowing that she was adopting the Christian'religion of Aetius during their wedding .... Notice well that she was only roped to her cross, but the soldiers were coming to beat her and to accelerate her death ...
But she was collected by this man who conducted her to Attila for her revenge against her father and Rome ...
000 No Nails, No Tits 3.jpg
 
I dont know if the comic'story is near or not from reality : in fact, Galla was in love with Aetius, the Legate of Augustus near Attila ... She was crucified when her father was knowing that she was adopting the Christian'religion of Aetius during their wedding .... Notice well that she was only roped to her cross, but the soldiers were coming to beat her and to accelerate her death ...
But she was collected by this man who conducted her to Attila for her revenge against her father and Rome ...
View attachment 280861
it sounds a little bit fanciful, but who cares? I like a good story :)
 
I've just discovered this poem today and I like it : well described !:clapping:

I notice that your illustration is coming from a French comic that I've and that I'd posted at the foundation and here too, I think ...
It's called "Attila mon amour" and the authors are Milton and Bonnet : I like when they're noticed ....;)
View attachment 280855

Thanks for that Messa. I didn't know the source of the comic pic.
 
Facing the wood

View attachment 280797

Sitting naked
on my cross
Heels dug in
soft damp earth
Arms wrapped tightly
'round my knees

Waiting fearfully
My turn next
to be stretched
back to wood
nailed and raised
to dance and die

So many others
raised already
Their plaintive moans
pitiful cries
prayers and curses
resound around me

I wait and wait
terror stricken
Why are they
so awfully slow?
Get it over with!
Please, just crucify me!

Here they come
at long last
Let go my knees
reclining helpfully
What point Is there
in resisting?

But wait
What's this?
An iron grip
on my shoulder
flips me over
Facing the wood

Banged head
Bloody nose
Knee on back
to hold me down
struggling, fighting
Facing the wood

Arms held
out forcibly
Bound fast with
rope in place
Nails to wrists
Facing the wood

Screaming, kicking
trying to rise
Slammed back down
Nails driven ruthlessly
through narrow wrists
Facing the wood

Raising head
looking left
then right
clenching fists
flowing blood
Facing the wood

Legs aligned
side by side
atop of stipe
Feet held down
heels out
Facing the wood

Struggling vainly
nail points held
'gainst my soles
Driven through
shattering bones
Facing the wood

Terrible pain
Twisting, writhing
sobbing, retching
Tears streaming
down my cheeks
Facing the wood

Cross rising
shaking, shuddering
Sliding down
wood abrading
soft fair skin
Facing the wood

Dropped in hole
Jarring impact
Hanging upright
Securing slats
driven home
Facing the wood

"Flog her"
chants the crowd
demanding their
fill of blood
and suffering
Facing the wood

I brace myself
Tender breasts
tumescent points
swelled and bulging
'gainst the post
Facing the wood

First one rips
across my back
cutting, slashing deep
Head thrown back
in anguished cry
Facing the wood

Back and forth
shoulders to hips
Angry stripes
rising welts
flecks of blood
Facing the wood

"Lower, lower"
cries the crowd
Vicious strokes
across tight little
quivering cheeks
Facing the wood

"Hot irons, hot irons"
demands the crowd
Frantic glance over shoulder
Fearsome glowing
red tip approaching
Facing the wood

Hands grip and
part my thighs
Intense heat
drawing closer
plunged in deep
Facing the wood

Head back in
howling scream
smell of burning flesh
Knees clasping, squeezing
hard 'gainst the post
Facing the wood

Hot iron driven
ever deeper
Nerves screaming
pain unbearable
passing out
Facing the wood

Hours later
regaining consciousness
Wracked with pain
hanging limp
eyes closed
Facing the wood

Crowd dispersed
Near silence
save for occasional
cries by others
begging death
Facing the wood

End is near
Strength ebbing
muscles cramped
head lolling
back and forth
Facing the wood

The came again
one last time
Swung a mallet
broke my legs
Scarcely moaned
Facing the wood

Open eyes for
one last look
Darkened sky
end of day
Death descends
Facing the wood


Barbaria, 2015
Wonderful erotic writing Barb. I just got home from work and working out at the gym. I take my post workout shower, have dinner, and then sit down and read your posting. Great scott! Now I have to take another shower, and this one will have to be cold....very cold:devil:
 
Wonderful erotic writing Barb. I just got home from work and working out at the gym. I take my post workout shower, have dinner, and then sit down and read your posting. Great scott! Now I have to take another shower, and this one will have to be cold....very cold:devil:

little-caprice-shower-8.jpg Thanks Hondo....can't take too many of those :rolleyes:
 
That was me 10,000 years ago when i was married to stone age kit
i was just as bad then as i am now, mind you, it was bloody cold
having sex in those caves in Derbyshire

Wonder what he is thinking?...look at the expression on his face :rolleyes:
 
I've just discovered this poem today and I like it : well described !:clapping:

I notice that your illustration is coming from a French comic that I've and that I'd posted at the foundation and here too, I think ...
It's called "Attila mon amour" and the authors are Milton and Bonnet : I like when they're noticed ....;)
View attachment 280855
Nice bum view, this way round, as a bum fancier (female I hasten to add) I am all in favour.

I can vouch for the coldness of Derbyshire caves, bad enough stopping to drink tea somewhere out of the rain, let alone stripping off your goatskin to get fucked.
 
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