Similarities between the drawings and fantasies of Kernled and mine.

I'm going to post some drawings of mine and my colleague Kernled to show how BDSM fantasies are similar.

"I'm an animal. I'm not people. I am not son of god."

We must understand that some human beings are not born to be human and must accept their inferior condition.

This is the case that was reported on a farm in the country's countryside in the early twentieth century: one boy, still five years old, was sold by his alcoholic father for drink debts. His mother was relieved to have a mouth to feed. She simply took the boy's clothes, smoking, drunk, and pregnant; she delivered the naked child with a rope tied around his neck, like a leash, so he would not run away.

The owner of the farm bought it and baptized it from Mule. Because it was like a mule, he'd spent a lifetime. He arrived naked and bound, and so he spent the rest of his life.

He never had the opportunity to question his condition as a beast of burden. When he tried to protest, he was brutally beaten. At the age of fifteen, when the young man tried to flee, he was kept chained, naked, and blinded. After the escape attempt, the farm foreman convinced the owner of the Mule that animals need not see anything, and blinded, they were more defenseless, obedient, and unable to escape.

Another function of an animal like him was to be raped almost every night.

Any farm employee could go to the corral and rape the animal, use his ass or his mouth to satiate all his needs.

Blinded and chained, he could not resist, complain or denounce his rapists. Some, out of wickedness, even suggested that he be neutered, but others argued that he would be overweight and could become too depressed and die.

Ever since he arrived at the farm, still a boy, they said that he could not say anything else, no one would accept him saying anything, and his words were interrupted with slaps or punches. No one wanted to have any conversation or bond with him. So, over the years, he had practically forgotten to speak. But he moaned and groaned like the other animals. Over the years, accepting resigned to his condition, he became more and more like the other animals on the farm.

Food never failed; with heavy work, he grew strong and healthy as a bull.

The employees joked that perhaps because he had never worn clothes or because he worked in the sun, he was very hairy, and his hair and beard bulky and tight, his hair covering his chest, back, legs, and arms. His tanned by the sun, laden with dust and frequent beating, seemed more like a pig's leather than human skin.

His daily work consisted of pulling the plow, pulling the wagons, and carrying heavy bales of earth or seeds. All the heaviest work was reserved for him. When he weakened or gave in due to the weight of the loads, the lashes convinced him to get up and return to work. He used to be whipped practically all the time, for whatever reason or even for no reason.

On Sundays, when no one on the farm worked, it was common for the employees' boredom to be broken with one of the most common amusements: mistreating, abusing, and beating the Mule.

The guys gathered to drink and talk in the stable. First, they washed the animal, then ordered him to suck each cock of them, to drink all the cum dropped. After hours of sucking, some of the boys would rape him and finally tie the poor and tired animal to some tree and distract themselves by arguing for hours about the best whip and who had more skill with the lashes, which could more precisely hit specific parts of the animal.

His hung, washed, sweaty body made it possible to better visualize the welts and scars left by the lashes. Still, since all his leather was already completely covered by bruises and marks of the countless beating, it was tough to say if the lash had indeed hit the nipple or tip of the animal's cock.

After many years, a new farm employee was shocked by the cruel and inclement treatment of the Mule. He could not bear to see a mature man being treated that way; he was very religious and could not bear to see a son of God in those conditions.

One Sunday in the stable, when everyone drank and talked distractedly and excitedly while the obedient animal sucked the cock of everyone in the group. The novice employee, annoyed at what was happening, privately asked the older employee if this was not absurd.

The older employee laughed out loud, unconstrained. He called the animal aloud. The Mule pulled the dick out of his mouth and crawled obediently, on all fours like a dog, to the man.

The man grabbed his hair by raising his head and asked firmly, with his face glued to the animal.

"The rookie, on the other side, said it's not right to treat a son of god like a fucking pig. What do you think?"

The Mule, without taking his hands off the ground, with semen and saliva dripping from his mouth, spoke quietly.

"I'm an animal. I'm not people. I am not son of god."

Everyone was amazed by the answer; many believed that the animal could not speak, but laughter and excitement filled the space past the stupor.

That day all of them, including the rookie, raped and lashed the animal.

Not even the Mule remembered the name he once had; as time passed, he forgot that he might have had another life. He was accustomed and conformed to his bovine life.

He really became an animal, and as such, he lived until his last day.

Maybe even happy.

The animal hopes to have been sold.

Its owners never bothered to tell or explain much, a stupid and despicable being does not have to understand what is going to happen to it, just obey the orders and commands. He received the orders in short, loud screams, as horses or dogs are trained to obey.

As a child they cut off his tongue so he would not moan, complain, or say anything. Yet he moans, uttering incomprehensible sounds, like other animals.

He is accustomed to frequent and brutal beatings, but still, he cries when his punishment are most cruel.

A slave who labored in the field, heavily, without rest for years, under the sun, in the rain, in the heat, or in the cold, under the constant scourge has his skin resting, marked and thick as the leather of a pig.

Your muscles and bones are accustomed to stress and heavy loads, but, over time, they are already damage and sore. He, besides being stupid, sees very badly, is practically deaf, can no longer handle the pace and weight of work in the same way.

So he believes it has been sold. He was taken to a dark place and tied to this post. Many men came to examine him and spoke loudly, looked at his teeth, ears and eyes.

He hopes to have been sold.

Now he does not know what awaits him.

Some old slaves like him, in worse condition, are killed for no longer serving. Others are blinded, castrated, and laid to haul carts in their last years of servitude. Transformed into real beasts of burden, like horses or donkeys.

He's been tied up for two days, without water or food. He is hungry, thirsty and suffering in terrible pain because he is immobilized in this position. He can not sleep, rest, he has never been able to think, under these conditions he is even more anxious and confused.

He only moans and cries.

The butchers of the court castrated deserters and sentenced prisoners.

In the medieval period, the butchers of the court were also the surgeons of the palaces. They looked after people and animals who needed surgery. There are reports and records that after battles, even during the wars, captured deserter soldiers, considered incorrigible cowards, could be sentenced to castration.

The same butchers who performed the castrations of horses, oxen and pigs, castrated deserters and sentenced prisoners.

The technique required the ability not to obstruct the urinary channel by sewing the incision, allowing the miserable urinate. To stop the bleeding, those who did not die during castration were hung upside down for many hours.

This drawing I did inspired by a drawing of my friend, Sherwin of Praha.

http://worldofsherwin.blogspot.com.br/?zx=fb63bea890a8c132

I decided to improve the drawing, giving it more credibility and realism.

Sometimes, historical drawings are made to record the witnessed scenes coldly and impartially.
This beautiful picture shows a Russian servant about to be whipped.
The draftsman wants to show how the animal was tied and immobilized and how he accepted his fate. The variously represented spectators attend the scene as if scenes like this were frequent and banal.
I decided to improve the drawing, giving it more credibility and realism.
The scene would have to have blood, a lot of blood dripping and soaking the body and the clothes on the animal, or it is not a real scene of scourging.
Hanging by the wrists and having to support his weight and the weight of the trunk between his legs, the wrists should be bleeding in a short time, and the hands purple and darkened.
Those who watch this kind of scene should be enjoying themselves, smiling.
Does not it seem more realistic? Truer, human, and brutal?

Darya Saltykova accompanied with great enthusiasm the whipping of her serfs. (крепостной крестьянин).

During the regime of serfdom, the Noble Russian Feudal Lords could do whatever they pleased with their servants. The peasants were no different from other properties, such as cattle, horses, or pigs.

At the end of autumn, after the annual harvests, the imperial cavalry of the Tsar ran through the estates, collected tax fees, and took part of the produce of each farm.

Most of the production was stockpiled in the silos and deposits of the grand noble palaces or sent on convoy to Moscow or Petrograd.

The peasants could hold the smallest part of the harvest; their share was so small that they often feared starving during the harsh winter that was announced. Some peasants revolted against misery and poverty, against the unfair exploitation they suffered. Others tried to hide part of the production and deceive the fiscals and landlords.

Servants denounced for revolt or dishonesty were arrested and tried by their owners. Those who established the sentences, the number of lashes, or the execution and death of the wretched were their owners, the noble families.

These executions were carried out by the ranch managers and the imperial soldiers in the last cold weeks of autumn. On this occasion, when the number of armed soldiers reinforced the troops of the nobility, it was easier and safer to punish the offenders brutally.

Darya Nikolayevna Saltykova became famous for personally attending all executions, accompanied by all her maids and other relatives.

All present, nobles or soldiers, could see her undisguised pleasure in watching the suffering and despair of the damned. She commanded such cruel and numerous whipping that most of the condemned died during the punishments.

Many of the punished received brutal sentences even without critical or grounded reasons. Some were just the target of gossip or envy of neighbors or other employees. Even without reason or justification, a servant could be whipped cruelly for hours until his death.

Darya Saltykova accompanied with such enthusiasm the suffering of the condemned who, without disguising her pleasure, ordered additional cruelties. Once she called them to take the eyes off a young man with very blue eyes, she said they were too beautiful for such a lazy animal. If she noticed that one of the flogged ones got excited, with his penises erect, she would have him castrated. She said that only she could take pleasure in the beating.

My drawing was made respecting the images and descriptions researched on the internet.

Attached are two images demonstrating the traditional immobilization mode for scourging Russian servos.

My testimony about a happy 24/7 relationship.

I am about 50 years old and I live on a 24/7 basis for my Owner for almost five years.

I am flogged every day, when I wake up I have to get naked, I got my nipples pierced and I get down on all fours over the bed to receive no less than a hundred lashes in the back. After that I lie on my back, with my belly up, my Owner pulls off the nipples clamps twisting hard, and whips the nipples about 50 times. After that, I kiss him, grateful, put the clamps again my aching nipples, and then I get on all fours again, to be whipped on the other side, to have the clamps torn out again with cruelty and flogged on the bruises and sores nipples again.

We cover the bed with a waterproof cover, before the beating, because I've bled countless times.

I tell you that I wake up excited every morning to know that I will be whipped.

We love the routine of beatings. Sometimes, when we have more time or on weekends, the beatings are bigger and crueler.

When my Owner is especially disposed and excited he has already given more than 2000 lashes in a single day.

The beatings are only for his delight, not mine. My only pleasure must be to serve him.

He lets me enjoy it about four or five times for years, only when he decides. I can only cum when he tells me to.

When he decides that I have to cum, he announces how many lashes I'm going to get that day and, before the beating, he orders me to masturbate while he whips me.

I had to learn to get the erection and ejaculate being flogged, he just stops beating when I ejaculate.

After cleaning the sperm, he gives the beating he has established, hundreds of lashes without mercy. He says he feels special pleasure in whipping me after my enjoyment, to make it clear that spanking is for his pleasure, not mine.

I feel horny for knowing that I am his fucking animal, his toy and slave. More than the beatings, what excites is the surrender, the acceptance resigned and obedient to his cruelty.

When I surrendered to him, other dominators said no SM relationship remains hot after two or three years. They said that over time, the routine turns all relationships into vanilla. I assure you that ours continues to grow in the cruelty and violence of beatings.

I'm more in love and happy than ever.

I think it is important to give this testimony so that other animals like me can bet on the truthful delivery and the life of bondage and service they have always dreamed of.

Do you feel the same?