Does anyone like seeing a condemned man lay on his cross while guards are tying his arms apart and you can see the bottoms of both of his stinky and dirty feet next to eachother. I feel like that is extremely humiliating but I would love that feeling too. It is obvious that our feet stink really bad when we get nailed to the cross.
Does anybody else like that too?
Great photos. My first avatar was the 1st photo, but the convict was naked.
To answer your question, I don't think the feet must have had a stronger smell than some people have in our time. The bad smell of the feet comes mainly from a bad synthetic shoe.
In those days people had sandals I think, or they walked barefoot. The feet were ventilated.
I think that the bad smells must have come from lack of hygiene. No showers in the dungeons at that time. The hygiene of the condemned was the last concern of the judges and executioners.
Imagine that you had been arrested, already without any care, and then thrown into a cell on straw where you might have to spend several days. Then convicted and taken away to serve your sentence.
The tunic is removed permanently. Your loincloth remains. Taken to the flogging post your arms are tied and stretched upwards and your sex touches the wood of the post. If you are a bit of a masochist (there are many of us here), the thought of being whipped causes an erection. You squirm under the first blows and your sex rubs the pole through your loincloth, the hilarious crowd watches you suffer; as a result, you ejaculate into the loincloth.
The blows rain down at a steady pace and the pain becomes horrible and pierces your body. Your bladder lets go and you start pissing into your loincloth. Isn't this beautiful? Not finished.
Under the blows, your blood and sweat run down the loincloth. Untied, you are then shoved, hit and thrown to the ground. The earth sticks to all this. With a chain you are pulled towards the cross where you will undergo the ultimate degradation and humiliation, because once nailed the cross will be lifted and your loincloth torn off without mercy by an executioner. There is a way to fantasize about it.