Category Archives: Women

Bob Shell: Letters From Prison #9


Bob Shell: Art of Rope. Cover Model: Marion Franklin


Letters From Prison: Part 9, 2018


Letters by Bob Shell, Copyright 2018


I promised to talk about the current Virginia Chief Medical Examiner, Dr. William T. Gormley. Around four years ago I heard that Virginia had a new Chief ME, so without much hope I wrote to him describing my problems with Dr. Massello’s trial testimony. To my surprise I got a letter back quickly from Dr. Gormley saying that if I had described Massello’s testimony accurately, it was wrong. I wanted something more unequivocal than that, so I arranged for a copy of the transcript of Massello’s testimony to be sent to Dr. Gormley. He read it and wrote back that Massello was definitely wrong. On his own initiative he had the ME’s file sent to him and examined the photos himself and saw that there was no reason whatsoever to think that Marion was dead. In fact, she was trying to impress Maria with how realistically she could look like she was passed out.

And in an interview Dr. Gormley was highly critical of Massello, saying that his autopsy of Marion was “horrific” and that Massello was a problem that has finally left the state. You can read the interview at on the News Updates page. If you realize just how reluctant doctors are to criticize each other, you’ll see how strong his feelings are against Massello.

The key point of all this is that we’d done a suspension of Marion just before we knocked off for the day, and she still had ropes tied around her waist and upper thighs when she went to lie on the bed. Lew had cautioned me not to leave them on very long. because they were quite tight. Marion woke up and we were fooling around taking some pictures on the bed. Maria Shadoes had sent us an email weeks before suggesting that we do a “chloroform” shoot in which Marion would act like she was passed out and I would undress her and tie her up. We’d tried this several times, but Marion didn’t like the results because she didn’t think the photos looked real. She was a serious perfectionist about her look in photos and I had deleted many sets she didn’t like. These were no exception, and all but the most recent set had been deleted. Since Maria and Lew were supposed to come back the next day, she wanted to try again to impress them. So we reshot the set with camera on tripod and I used a radio remote with foot pedal so I could be in the pictures. Part way through the shoot we took off the black spiderweb body suit she’d worn all day, and then the ropes, which I needed her help to untie, (As I said earlier I have little strength or coordination in my left hand, and needed her help with the knots.) After that. I took pictures for 43 minutes before we quit. All the day’s pictures were on a 1gb IBM MicroDrive, which I removed from the Canon EOS 10D camera and put in my pocket. (Because the photos weren’t for publication, I was shooting only JPEGs, and could get lots on that 1gb MicroDrive.). Later that night I gave the MicroDrive to Detective Jim Lawson, never dreaming that the photos would be misinterpreted and used to indict me for serious crimes. That misinterpretation came from Dr. Massello who looked at the images the next day. He said that Marion was dead, and had been dead for some time when those last photos were made. He said that ligature marks like those visible from the ropes (1/4 inch Nylon) would vanish quickly in a living person, no matter how tight the ropes or how long in place, and since these marks were still visible in the last photo 43 minutes after removal of the ropes, she was clearly dead. I was astonished when I heard this! Any person who has ever experimented with bondage knows that such marks can persist for hours. If you doubt this tie a tight ligature around your wrist, leave it for a half hour or so, and see how long the marks remain visible. Some models I know still have visible marks the next day. It varies from person to person and I speculate that it is related to the amount of subcutaneous fat a person has.

When Massello first voiced this crackpot idea, I told him he was wrong and asked for his authority on this. He snapped, “All the textbooks.”. So I had the Radford Public Library get me all the textbooks on pathology. Thankfully there aren’t that many. I read them all cover-to-cover and found that there was not one word on ligature retention in living persons in them (and learned a lot of gory stuff I’d rather not have known!). When we met with Massello again I told him this and he got hostile and growled, “Well, it’s just common sense!”. He would not even look at the photos I’d brought showing retention for hours. So he came to my trial and spouted the same nonsense and since he had more prestige than my witnesses, the jury bought his baloney. There’s more about these photos, and I’ll go into it another time. One thing I want to mention is about that earlier set of photos. I was surprised when the prosecutor introduced them, claiming they were shot on a different day. Once projected up on the courtroom wall it was easy to see the date/time data and image numbers. I had my lawyer point out that the date was not when the prosecutor claimed they were made, and that a. number of images were missing. Someone had edited the photos! They probably didn’t know I had multiple backups of all my photo sessions, some of them off-site. I brought in my backup copy and showed the jury that the missing photos were all the ones that showed that Marion was awake, alert, and having fun. A harmless set of photos had been edited to make it look like she was unconscious! This should have given the jury pause, but they were too busy being offended by the content of the photos. The prosecution’s theory was that Marion was forced to participate in these photo shoots. But Detective Jim Lawson said that after looking at lots of our photos and videos he had seen nothing to make him think that Marion was anything other than a willing, even enthusiastic, participant. But the jury paid no attention to his testimony….


About The Author: Bob Shell is a professional photographer, author and former editor in chief of Shutterbug Magazine. He is currently serving a 35 year sentence at Pocahontas State Correctional Center, Pocahontas, Virginia for involuntary manslaughter for the death of Marion Franklin, one of his former models. Mr. Shell is serving the 11th year of his sentence. To read more letters from prison by Bob Shell, click here


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Bob Shell: Letters From Prison #8


Photo: Bob Shell, Copyright 2018



Letters From Prison: Part 8, 2018


Letters by Bob Shell, Copyright 2018


As I said earlier, in the early 70s I was working for a small TV station in Roanoke. I did a little of everything; ran a camera, directed, produced live TV shows, even introduced late night horror movies on Saturday nights, even filling in for the weatherman on our local news a time or two. It was a real shoestring operation, and when we picked up our paychecks we had to rush to the bank and cash them because those brought to the bank later frequently bounced. The best paid were the engineers, so I went down to Atlanta and took a crash course in electronics at the Elkins Institute, took the government test and got a first class FCC license. Suddenly I was an engineer! In those days the FCC required that an engineer be present at the TV transmitter at all times when the station was broadcasting. Our transmitter was atop Poor Mountain near Roanoke, to get the widest coverage. I got to work there on a “road” that was really just a fire trail. Luckily my car at the time was an FJ40 Toyota Land Cruiser with four-wheel drive, a real mechanical mountain goat that could go anywhere. Amazing vehicle that I kept into the late 80s, and was sorry to part with. I retired the Toyota in favor of a Citroen DS21. Eventually I owned seven of these wonderful French vehicles, ranging from early 60s models to my last one, a beautiful sky blue 1972 model, the last year they were sold in the USA. I bought all of the special tools, shop manuals (some in French), and learned to do all my own maintenance. These cars have an active hydropneumatic suspension, that makes them seem alive. The softest ride ever. Jay Leno says his DS21 is his favorite of all his cars to drive. Of the many cars I’ve owned I could say the same. I stuck with the Citroens after they stopped selling in the USA because parts were sold by Peugeot, but then they also pulled out of the USA and parts became harder and harder to get. I ordered from Holland for a while, but finally gave up and sold my last one to a homesick piano tuner from Paris.

I seem to have gotten sidetracked into automotive things. I love a number of things, and cars are just one more. I can’t bear owning any mechanical device without knowing how it works, so all of my cars, household appliances, and cameras have been taken apart and reassembled. My old friend Marty Forscher was the dean of camera repairmen. He ran Professional Camera Repair in NYC for many years until he retired. He told me he taught himself how to repair cameras by completely disassembling a Rolleiflex, putting all the parts in a box, shaking it up, and then putting it back together. I did the same with an old Pentax Spotmatic, and only had a few parts left over!! So I signed up for the old National Camera home study course in camera repair and learned to do things the right way. For years after that I made money on the side fixing cameras. But that ended when cameras became heavily electronified, and required specialized tools and equipment that were brand specific and were too expensive for anyone outside a factory repair service. No room anymore for a generalist mechanic. I did for a while sort of specialize in repairing the Swiss Alpa cameras that were literally built like Swiss watches, but they went out of business and that work dried up. So my sideline of fixing cameras came to an end except for an occasional favor for a friend and tinkering with my own equipment. Today’s digital SLRs are foreign territory to me and too expensive to risk messing up.

That being said, I took to digital very early on and learned Photoshop before there was even a version number. I believe I shot the first totally digital magazine cover (for PIC magazine in London in 1993 or 1994.). I’ll tell you all about PIC next time…..


About The Author: Bob Shell is a professional photographer, author and former editor in chief of Shutterbug Magazine. He is currently serving a 35 year sentence at Pocahontas State Correctional Center, Pocahontas, Virginia for involuntary manslaughter for the death of Marion Franklin, one of his former models. Mr. Shell is serving the 11th year of his sentence. To read more letters from prison by Bob Shell, click here



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Stanek Gallery: The Cake That Survives Its Eating







STANEK GALLERY: Exhibition Announcement


The Cake That Survives Its Eating


Opening Reception: Friday, April 6, 2018



Michael Ananian

Phillip Geiger

Mel Leipzig

Scott Noel

Patrice Poor


To learn more about Stanek Gallery, click here


Also posted in Advertising, Art, Blog, Erotica, Models, Nudes, Popular Culture, Portraits

Summer Thompkins: How Being Passive is Hurting our Women!


Portrait of Summer Thompkins by Tony Ward, Copyright 2018



Article  by Summer Thompkins, Copyright 2018




When I was asked to write an article I was nervous, as at least 300 topics flew through my head as to what I would like to speak about. They all had a common theme however: sex work, femininity, and being a woman in today’s society. The last thing I wanted to do was restate articles, news headers, feminine agendas, and statistics. Instead I wanted to tell a story.

In my first year of college my English class read a story titled, “Lucky”. It was a truth telling, from the victims perspective, of her journey from being raped violently in college to what ensues thereafter (the healing, the information processing, police reports, etc.). In the beginning an officer tells her after she’s just been severely assaulted that she is ‘lucky’ she wasn’t killed, as the girl who was victimized earlier that year in the same exact location, had in fact been murdered. This was pointed out in class by the teacher as a focus point. She brought up the heinous idea that anyone in that situation could be considered lucky. That then opened my mind and my eyes to something that happens all too often in sex work, as a feminist, and as a woman in general, esp. when dealing with assault. We are made to feel that we are fortunate, lucky even, no matter what trauma, abuse, or inhumane treatment we are put through because we are so often quieted by the fact “it could have been worse.”

The Women’s March was an incredible historical gathering, but how often did you hear about “other women having it worse” in other countries, as a means to downplay those who did come out to support the march’s efforts? From a large scale to micro-aggressions, women everyday are made to feel guilty for their valid discontent. If your daughter, mother, sister, or wife told you someone today hurt her, would you tell her “People get hurt everyday! Relax honey.”

The passive approach towards these issues, and towards women/womxn* in general are becoming more dangerous. Women who go to authorities with concerns are met with disbelief, and all too often murdered thereafter by those they were reporting. Sexual assault in the entertainment industry has been called out louder than ever these past few years, and yet a celebrity who has been involved in multiple cases of sexual assault is President of these United States.

The solution starts at the root. There is never something too little or too large that you can do to help. One of the most important things we are missing as a society is: accountability. There is a weak backbone in the bodies of most when it comes to seeing a multitude of issues take place around us. Silence is often louder than words. Those who do not correct their fellow peers when they are: racist, sexist, or outwardly offensive are contributing to the problem. The police officer, by telling the victim she was “lucky” was contributing to the problem. By downplaying these traumas and tragedies we are allowing them to continue. By laughing it off, and saying “it was just a “joke” after calling a woman a “bitch/hoe/slut” you are contributing to the problem. It will not be until we take women seriously, and all of the passive, aggressive, and disrespectful narratives they are painted under, that we can move forward in women’s rights.


About The Author: Summer Thompkins is from Philadelphia, a 21 year old model, writer, feminist, and new contributor to Tony Ward Studio.To access additional articles by Summer Thompkins, click here



Also posted in Blog, Erotica, Fashion, Hetero Love, Models, Photography, Politics, Portraits, T-Shirts

A.H. Scott: Percolate


Photo: Tony Ward, Copyright 2018


Poetry by A.H. Scott, Copyright 2018




Reclining there, she said, “I swear…he thinks we’re finished for tonight”

The one who stood replied, “For you, little stud….this night’s just begun”

We ladies have you as our toy and your obedience is our fun

Bitch in blue gave a smile, “I got dibs on his mouth”

Lady with those danglers upon her ears laughed, “Good choice…cuz’ I got dibs on his cock”

In her thigh highs, she snapped for their toy to kneel

On his knees, he was more than eager to please

Yet, pleasure wasn’t his for tonight

Twin bitches were about to set him just right

Pussy squished down on his chin and mouth again and again

Like a naughty girl riding a rocking horse, the motion was a hellish grind

Toy in the middle obeyed and towed the line

He had to hold his breath when inhaling her scent, as he wondered where the other one went

Sucking him off a bit, the other watched her sister in seduction riding his face

Tongue made a tawdry trail up from ball sack to shaft again and again

He squirmed and moaned

These ballsy bitches knew this toy would bring their pleasure home

Blue corseted lady was about to rock

Yanking it hard, so became his cock

His pole was ready for a pussy that didn’t pout

Hot as hell, she rode him and didn’t want him to pull out

In that boiler room, the heat of three sizzled

The fairer sex wasn’t going to fizzle

Ladies rode face and cock, as their tongues connected

He was being used in a way he hadn’t expected

Fairest sex was equality of eroticity

A hot fuck eroded simplicity

Bitches were top, while cock was bottom

This buckle boy in leather knew his place

For these ladies, thought of the fairer sex was easy to replace

Splatter of his cum in an upward shot came in a glistening, white trace

Few drops landed on carpet of red

“Lick it up”, Sexy face-sitter said

Stiletto bitches stood and waited for his mouth to do some work on that floor

Tongue did the lapping, as these impatient bitches’ toes did the tappin’

As he finished the cleanup, snap of command came

He sat back down on the bench, as the scratchin’ kittens decided to burn by their own flame

Watching he did, as the fairer sex took his breath with what they did to one another again and again and again

Steam heat!!

Stream heat!!



About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by A. H. Scott, go here:



Also posted in Art, Blog, Erotica, Fetish, Hetero Love, Models, Obsessions, Photography, The Tease