Posts Tagged ‘Sword & sandals



The message  –  8

The situation dire.  An agonising death a certainty.  A dying that will take days.

And yet there is something left  ….


The complete story  has been put on the e-shelves in rendsz’ world serials




The message  –  7

What was the word for it?  To describe those feelings as his horse trotted him away.  His back turned on the nailed turd.  That feeble threat passing in one ear and out of the other.  Sticking a single finger in the air.  The most reaction he was going to be bothered to make.  Sit on that fucker  …  if that saddle in your balls isn’t getting you off.

Nothing like putting an opponent down


Contempt – illustrated

The message  –  6

Betrayed.  His army defeated, sent into slavery.
A patrician  –  humiliated before the mob.  Scorned by a tyrant.
Nailed to die on a cross.

A victim learns to come to terms with his pains

Picture gallery of story panels collected  here



The message  –  6


I gave in to the temptation, eagerly I had delayed my departure.  I wanted him tormented by the facts.  I kept my eye on his growing feebleness.  His body bending reluctant to my will.  Refusing to raise my eyes to his face.  Ignoring his rantings.  Cursing me.  Condemning my family.  Warning me that others would still rise up.  I kept my eye right there where his feebleness was strongest.  On his thickening cock.  Rising to obey my will.  Deserting him.  As his blood boiled, as his temper soared  ….  He could do nothing against it.  Nature and his rightful lord were working in cahoots, against him, working together to take possession of him.  Right down to his core.  Right to the very man that he was.

Assaulted at the heart of a man



The message  –  5


I could afford to grant him this time, let the prick take as long as he wanted, this brief moment when he still could persuade himself he was not beaten.  Not crushed.  I could allow him this last gesture of defiance,  –  when the fool was going to tell himself he could still stand up to me.  Because, unlike the moron nailed on his cross, I had not forgotten.  In his overpowering urges to show to me  –  for the last time  –  that he was not beaten, he had forgotten one thing.  One vital fact.

Life is full of surprises



The message  –  4

His head rolled from side-to-side, rocked by his pains.  His moans escaped unstoppable, I smiled as he suffered.  Arms outstretched, pinned by nailed agony to the cross.  Lying at my horse’s feet.  I watched.  Relishing in his torment.  Yet wanting more.  This scum owed me more.

No satiating the lust for retribution



The message  –  3

Did he not know?  The fool.  Had he forgotten?  Lying there like he thought he’d come through his ordeal?  Did the scumbag not realise he had two wrists? 
Patiently I had watched his every move.  Intently I had registered his every slightest change.  By the time five blows had hammered into his arm, his look of defiance had swept away from my face.  Hammer-blows smashing up his bones.  Driven from proud patrician into frail slave meat.  The thick ugly nail crunching up bone, driving through flesh, pounding into the wood.  The defiance wiped off his insolent face.  Degraded from human being into stinking slobbering slave.  His cries of pain unstoppable.  A dozen blows.  Breaking up bone.  Breaking through his arrogant insolence.

The ultimate satisfaction over a troublesome enemy

in praise of men we’d like to be





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