Were these braids historically accurate and how do they work? Were they little hair pieces and what did they stand for?
Now, I’ll admit that I’m not an expert on this subject but I might know some things that help answer your questions. From what we know, Spartans wore their hair long. This is mentioned, for example, by Herodotus in his Histories:
“He saw some of the men exercising naked and others combing their hair. […] This is their custom: when they are about to risk their lives, they arrange their hair.”
Hdt. VII, 208-209 (transl. by A. D. Godley source)
and by Xenophon in his Consitution of the Lacedaimonians:
“He [=Lycurgus, a mythical Spartan lawgiver] also permitted men who were past their first youth to wear long hair, believing that it would make them look taller, more dignified and more terrifying.”
So as far as I know, the hairstyles from 300andAssassin’s Creed: Odyssee are not historically accurate.
But we do have evidence of hairstyles similar to this, just not from Sparta. Look, for example, at the hair of the so called God of Cape Artemision (thought to depict either Poseidon or Zeus) from the 5th century BCE:
(source) now at the National Archeological Museum at Athens)
If I had to guess, this is where the people behind 300andAssassin’s Creed got their inspiration from. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you more about this hairstyle or what it represented. It might just have been popular around the time this sculpture was made.
My owner put me in the tub and pissed on me and into my mouth while he took pictures of my degradation. I looked up at him, opened my mouth, and swallowed.
When he was done treating me like the pisswhore I am, he brushed his teeth and dropped the toothpaste/spit combination into my face and hair. Then he told me to clean it up, which I did.
I’m a disgusting little bitch. I asked for all of this. I masturbated thinking about this. I thanked him for doing this. This is exactly how sluts like me need to be treated. Like receptacles for anything men want to put on or into us.
Wow, such a good bitch, she makes for an excellent role model.
I love the lumped position. She has given up!
Actually, that’s just how big the tub was, and I had my head down because we were taking pictures for tumblr. My owner at the time did this at my request. I wanted to try it and thought it would make for some good things for him to say later. It was a whole lot of fun! There might be other experiences that would make me feel broken or like I’d given up, but getting what I want isn’t exactly one of them.
Lol - silly little cunt. If your mood is bag, try serving a Man. Offer the first Man you see your service: It’s what you cunts are here for. It’ll make you feel better.
Lol - silly little boy. What an idiotic (on many levels) and unhelpful thing to say. You don’t know me. Don’t call me “cunt” like you know me. We don’t interact. We have no rapport.
As for the rest of your comment, I’m not heavily in to consensual misogyny anymore. Definitely not from random tumblr doms. Particularly because that removes the first, and essential, bit of the phrase “consensual misogyny.”
Because yeah, some people have the right to say this kind of thing to me. Those people know when and where a comment like this is appropriate (Hint: Not on a personal post about how I’m feeling that day. Read the room. God.), and from them, it would be hot and get me in the right mood, which would make it believable. But you are most definitely not one of those people, and this is not the right time or place, so you just annoyed me.
Oh, and even when I was immersed in consensual misogyny, I always found capitalizing “man” an obnoxious and boner-killing thing to do.
Thanks for the stupid comment that allowed me take out some of my negative feelings on you, bro!
I now have a fantasy that is all but guaranteed to give me a strong, high quality orgasm. Of course, it’s fucked up, and I’m a dumb cunt for wanting it to come true.
The idea of a man or, preferably, men, beating me, tossing me around, raping me, and then cumming in me while I beg them not to has been getting me off like crazy. I want them to fuck my cunt, no condom, not caring that I’m not on birth control. To slap me around and choke me. To tell me they don’t care about my begging, that what I want doesn’t matter. That they know my preferences, listened to me talk about them, understand them, and are now just fucking ignoring them.
I want them to laugh at my tears, my attempts to bargain, and especially at my shouts of “Red!”, as if they give a fuck about my little safeword. I want to hear them talk to me about filling my cunt with their cum, about how they’re going to use me over the next 48 hours, and tell me that if I’m good, maybe they’ll let me have EC. Maybe.
I want to be forced to cum as they pound my unprotected hole, to hear them laugh and tell me how pathetic I am for getting off on being violated so intimately, on being marked like this, on having every part of me taken away from my control and used for their pleasure. I want them to force me to look into their eyes as they empty themselves into me.
I want it all recorded on video. I want them to use my hole again while they make me watch my face as I stop fighting back physically within the first few minutes, realizing how futile that is. Then to see myself just give up, see the fight go out of my eyes. To see where I accept that this is going to happen and simply sob quietly as I’m used like the cumrag I am.
And then, maybe not the first time, maybe not the second time, but eventually, I’ll stop resisting. I’ll even stop accepting. I’ll start craving it, start asking for it. I’ll beg them to fill me, leave me with cum dripping down my leg. I’ll fuck them back, moaning as I think about the risk and imagine the shame of getting pregnant from this, shuddering as I think about how I’m just a cumdump, a set of holes for them to use. They don’t give a fuck what I want. I couldn’t stop them, even if I tried. This was going to happen from the moment they decided they wanted to do it.
When they finally decide they’re done with me, I imagine them buying EC and taunting me with it. Making me humiliate and degrade myself further, desperately trying to earn it from them. When they finally give me the pills, it will be far too late to be anywhere near as effective as I need them to be. Then, to drive home the extreme violation and the ownership that they, not I, have over my body, when I find myself pregnant, they’ll force me to get an abortion.
Maybe they’ll accompany me to the clinic, and whisper in my ear in the waiting room. Other people will think they’re being reassuring, but they’ll actually be telling me how I asked for this, how I’m a stupid cunt for being in this situation. They’ll be describing what they did to me, making me relive it. And they’ll know how wet I’m getting, imagining what happened that led me to be sitting there, waiting to be called in.
Or maybe they’ll be even more cruel. Organize a protest on the day of my appointment, forcing me to walk past angry, shouting people who call me a murderer and a whore. I’ll have to sit in the clinic with other upset women, and I’ll know it’s my fault that those protesters are out there.
Of course, they aren’t monsters. They’ll be there to take me home afterwards. And then they’ll do it all over again.
Reminds me of how my depravity began. Getting raped, knocked up and having an abortion at 17. Now that’s all that gets me off.
Stupid sluts like you get off on things like this because your dirty and lesser. One of your only jobs as woman is to procreate and you willingly stopped that. You will always be second hand and nothing you do will make you better in any way.
