you mean Seagrams sauced writers don't spell
(mind you, 'promiscuity' is impressive, great come-back when you've just had 'scatological' fired at you)
View attachment 435584 And he managed to spell it correctly too
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A Research Trip To Little Brampton
- Thread starter thehangingtree
- Start date
Tuesday night in the church’s dungeon, Barbara Moore is taken from the garrote, a heavy collar is locked around her neck, her wrists are placed in irons and fastened to the metal belt, her elbows are pinioned tightly behind her back, and rude rusty iron gag is pushed into her mouth and fixed behind her neck before she is stood up and chain is fastened to the collar. Barb would spend the night bound like this.
Outside, the woman that had been bound to the stake since early morning is about to be burned at the stake as the closing ceremony of the evening.
Every two hours the jaw-breaking iron gag would be removed from Barbara’s mouth and she would be asked if she would confess and every two hours she would refuse. At three AM she not only refused but her refusal was laced with obscenities even Tree cannot believe came from her mouth!
But hunger, thirst, and exhaustion are taking their toll. By Wednesday morning it has been 48 hours since she last slept and 42 hours since she ate or drank. Standing all night with so little sleep would have difficult enough but having over 80 pounds of irons and chains fastened to her made it all that much more fatiguing. At nine AM as the irons are removed Barb is asked again if she wished to confess. Sleep deprived she had to as what would she be confessing to. She still looked bewildered as the charges are read but shakes her head no.
After she is freed from the chains and irons she is brought to a wall and her wrists are bound to two rings over her head. At first she is grateful to no longer have her elbows pinned behind her back but that passed as what would be a three hour flogging began.
The flogging stops and Barb is brought to a cell that has a window looking out onto the market square of Little Brampton and is told to watch for the next hour. As an incentive to Barb she is told she could have an hour’s rest. She rises on her toes and grabs the bars to help steady her as she looks out the window.
It is lunch break at the gallows in the market square and three dead witches will hang from the gallows until the hangings resume at 1 PM. She sees a topless woman walking through a corridor in opened in the crowd by constables. In general the crowd, while leering at the woman, remained respectively quiet as she walked towards the whipping post on a mound half way across the square from the gallows.
She is quite beautiful I think as she comes closer. I think I recognize her but as tired as I am I can’t place her. A monk steps up next to me and says “You knew her as Helen in your room in Eastwick but after she joined the Order of Penance and Punishment she has taken the name Sister Perpetua. Saint Perpetua was killed in an arena directing a sword to be driven through her throat when she refused to renounce her Christianity.”
“That’s so touching. If she’s such a good Christian why did she lie to get me here” I ask.
“Miss Moore when Helen was sent to us she was with child. Her parents are very… well established shall we say. Due to a generous contribution to the diocese instead of being hanged the next market day she was sent to the convent of Sisters of the OPP to carry the child to term then serve one year of hard labor.
“She was less enthused but decided it beat dying at a young age. As the year passed she acclimated to the life of hard labor instead of being a pampered child and when it was time to send her home she asked Mother Superior if she could serve another year of hard labor and then be trained to become a sister of the order. After she testified against you for her penance for succumbing to your spell she was ordered to pray the Rosary fifty times while kneeling on a wedge of wood and suffer 15 lashes in the market square. Her reply to the archbishop was she would pray 100 Rosaries and asked for thirty lashes for her sin. I doubt a holy woman such as she lied about you” the monk says.
“Holy woman, she sounds like a certifiable masochist to me” I reply and my thought is reinforced as she steps up onto the block and willingly raises her arms to have her wrists bound to the whipping post.
-Barbara Moore
Sister Perpetua is bound to the whipping post and in short order receives 30 lashes with a cat-o-nine tails.
When the flogging is done Sister Perpetua pleads to receive double the lashes for her sin. She is denied her request- for now- as Sister Angel is waiting in the wings for her turn at the whipping post. She is none too pleased with the novice since it has been decided if thirty lashes was good enough for novitiate Sister Perpetua thirty lashes was good for the other three sisters that framed Barbara. She prepares to go to the whipping post.
TREE
Outside, the woman that had been bound to the stake since early morning is about to be burned at the stake as the closing ceremony of the evening.
Every two hours the jaw-breaking iron gag would be removed from Barbara’s mouth and she would be asked if she would confess and every two hours she would refuse. At three AM she not only refused but her refusal was laced with obscenities even Tree cannot believe came from her mouth!
But hunger, thirst, and exhaustion are taking their toll. By Wednesday morning it has been 48 hours since she last slept and 42 hours since she ate or drank. Standing all night with so little sleep would have difficult enough but having over 80 pounds of irons and chains fastened to her made it all that much more fatiguing. At nine AM as the irons are removed Barb is asked again if she wished to confess. Sleep deprived she had to as what would she be confessing to. She still looked bewildered as the charges are read but shakes her head no.
After she is freed from the chains and irons she is brought to a wall and her wrists are bound to two rings over her head. At first she is grateful to no longer have her elbows pinned behind her back but that passed as what would be a three hour flogging began.
The flogging stops and Barb is brought to a cell that has a window looking out onto the market square of Little Brampton and is told to watch for the next hour. As an incentive to Barb she is told she could have an hour’s rest. She rises on her toes and grabs the bars to help steady her as she looks out the window.
It is lunch break at the gallows in the market square and three dead witches will hang from the gallows until the hangings resume at 1 PM. She sees a topless woman walking through a corridor in opened in the crowd by constables. In general the crowd, while leering at the woman, remained respectively quiet as she walked towards the whipping post on a mound half way across the square from the gallows.
She is quite beautiful I think as she comes closer. I think I recognize her but as tired as I am I can’t place her. A monk steps up next to me and says “You knew her as Helen in your room in Eastwick but after she joined the Order of Penance and Punishment she has taken the name Sister Perpetua. Saint Perpetua was killed in an arena directing a sword to be driven through her throat when she refused to renounce her Christianity.”
“That’s so touching. If she’s such a good Christian why did she lie to get me here” I ask.
“Miss Moore when Helen was sent to us she was with child. Her parents are very… well established shall we say. Due to a generous contribution to the diocese instead of being hanged the next market day she was sent to the convent of Sisters of the OPP to carry the child to term then serve one year of hard labor.
“She was less enthused but decided it beat dying at a young age. As the year passed she acclimated to the life of hard labor instead of being a pampered child and when it was time to send her home she asked Mother Superior if she could serve another year of hard labor and then be trained to become a sister of the order. After she testified against you for her penance for succumbing to your spell she was ordered to pray the Rosary fifty times while kneeling on a wedge of wood and suffer 15 lashes in the market square. Her reply to the archbishop was she would pray 100 Rosaries and asked for thirty lashes for her sin. I doubt a holy woman such as she lied about you” the monk says.
“Holy woman, she sounds like a certifiable masochist to me” I reply and my thought is reinforced as she steps up onto the block and willingly raises her arms to have her wrists bound to the whipping post.
-Barbara Moore
Sister Perpetua is bound to the whipping post and in short order receives 30 lashes with a cat-o-nine tails.
When the flogging is done Sister Perpetua pleads to receive double the lashes for her sin. She is denied her request- for now- as Sister Angel is waiting in the wings for her turn at the whipping post. She is none too pleased with the novice since it has been decided if thirty lashes was good enough for novitiate Sister Perpetua thirty lashes was good for the other three sisters that framed Barbara. She prepares to go to the whipping post.
TREE
I fear posting the next epi!!!View attachment 435711 Nine tails and mine ... ouch!
View attachment 435712 The least they could have done is install the windows a bit lower.
I would think so... Do you like fruit- as in pear???Does that mean I should fear it too?
They whipped the four nuns that framed me for ‘succumbing to my spells’ and at one in the afternoon they lower the hanged witches. I am asked again if I wish to confess. I can’t remember the charges but after watching the nuns flogged with a backdrop of three hanged women I am not about to facilitate joining them. What was I charged with I ask when they ask me I wish to confess. They keep their word and allow me an hour’s rest. I sleep on the floor. It seems like my eyes had just closed when they wake me. Just the brief nap revives me a bit. I am brought to another chamber where I am forced to kneel while my wrists are bound behind my back. The man binding my wrists asks “Do you know what strappado is, Barbara?”
I groan “Yes.”
“Have you ever experienced it?”
“No.”
“May I suggest you confess now? Once you are raised you can plead you guilt all you want but you hang there until the monks ask if you wish to confess. Do you understand?”
“Yes” I moan “but I will not confess to a damn thing I am not. You might as well pull me up.”
“Not so fast, Miss Moore” one of the monks says. He sets a pear down and says “Would you prefer in the front or rear?”
I can’t answer- I cannot pick where they use that vile tool. The Monk brings it the pear to my torturer and spreads my tight little. The damn thing hurt just being shoved into my bum but I am able to suppress a scream until they start to spread the pear. As bad as it hurts I can’t even begin to describe the pain of being hung strappado!
-Barbara Moore, doing more research than I care to!
An hour later the monk asks her if she wishes to confess. She groans “I will never confess!”
He spreads the pear wider and after administering smelling salts she looks down at the floor out of reach of her feet and sees her blood dripping down between her legs.
She thinks ‘I never thought my tits were this heavy’ as she watches them sway below her chest.
After two more session of two hours the monk asks her if she wants to confess and stubbornly she refuses to even though pain wracks her shoulders. He says “I was expecting that. Would you like some rest? Would you like to sit a while?”
Gasping she says “If I may.”
“Let her down” he orders. Of course Barbara forgot to ask what she would be sitting on. Have you ever heard of a spiked iron chair with an iron pot filled with hot coals under the seat?
You have to admire her that she made it to the three AM questioning still refusing to confess even as delirium clouds her mind. The next wave of monks takes over and asks her if she is right or left handed. At first she refuses to answer until one of the monks says “Barbara, we are not asking you to confess to anything, just if you are right or left handed.”
Too tired to resist she says “I’m right-handed.”
“Thank you, Barbara” he says before adding “Brother Damian, please slowly break her left fingers.”
At the 5 AM questioning Barbara would confess to being a witch and a promiscuous heretic. It is amazing how a bit of pain and one hour of sleep in three days extracts the truth…
Tree
I don't think this is good for Barb...
I groan “Yes.”
“Have you ever experienced it?”
“No.”
“May I suggest you confess now? Once you are raised you can plead you guilt all you want but you hang there until the monks ask if you wish to confess. Do you understand?”
“Yes” I moan “but I will not confess to a damn thing I am not. You might as well pull me up.”
“Not so fast, Miss Moore” one of the monks says. He sets a pear down and says “Would you prefer in the front or rear?”
I can’t answer- I cannot pick where they use that vile tool. The Monk brings it the pear to my torturer and spreads my tight little. The damn thing hurt just being shoved into my bum but I am able to suppress a scream until they start to spread the pear. As bad as it hurts I can’t even begin to describe the pain of being hung strappado!
-Barbara Moore, doing more research than I care to!
An hour later the monk asks her if she wishes to confess. She groans “I will never confess!”
He spreads the pear wider and after administering smelling salts she looks down at the floor out of reach of her feet and sees her blood dripping down between her legs.
She thinks ‘I never thought my tits were this heavy’ as she watches them sway below her chest.
After two more session of two hours the monk asks her if she wants to confess and stubbornly she refuses to even though pain wracks her shoulders. He says “I was expecting that. Would you like some rest? Would you like to sit a while?”
Gasping she says “If I may.”
“Let her down” he orders. Of course Barbara forgot to ask what she would be sitting on. Have you ever heard of a spiked iron chair with an iron pot filled with hot coals under the seat?
You have to admire her that she made it to the three AM questioning still refusing to confess even as delirium clouds her mind. The next wave of monks takes over and asks her if she is right or left handed. At first she refuses to answer until one of the monks says “Barbara, we are not asking you to confess to anything, just if you are right or left handed.”
Too tired to resist she says “I’m right-handed.”
“Thank you, Barbara” he says before adding “Brother Damian, please slowly break her left fingers.”
At the 5 AM questioning Barbara would confess to being a witch and a promiscuous heretic. It is amazing how a bit of pain and one hour of sleep in three days extracts the truth…
Tree
I don't think this is good for Barb...
I wish it was just a bad dream but as in American politics academia is a pit of conflicting interests. Chancellor Emeritus Despard Wragg is determined to see the young upstart Barbara Moore hanged. I would call your 'dream' a nightmare....
Tree
Thursday morning in Little Brampton during the Harvest Festival…
So I confessed! I lasted longer than you could have. The torture stopped and it wasn’t going to end even if the Harvest Festival did. I am placed in a cell that has real mattress- OK, it is thin worn-out pair of couch pillows and I have an iron collar around my neck- but I am not being beaten, raped, probed, or torn inside with a pear. Besides being hanged by the neck what is wrong with my plan? God I miss my bed in the blue state.
I get a few hours of sleep before a monk comes in and hands me the confession to sign. I hesitate a moment knowing I am effectively signing my death warrant. The monk tells me his patience is limited and if I don’t sign now my toes and the fingers of my right hand could match the broken fingers of my left hand. With a sigh I sign my life away. Later in the morning I am brought before the court of Little Brampton wearing a ragged faded dress, shackles, and manacles. The top of the dress is ripped from me baring me done to my waist. I try to clinch my hands into fists but winch in pain as I flex my broken fingers.
It takes less than a quarter hour before I am declared guilty of being a heretic and promiscuous sorceress and am condemned to be hanged by the neck until dead from the Little Brampton’s market square gallows late Friday evening. My knees weaken but I toss my hair from shoulders and hold my head high to mask the dread filling me. The magistrate asks if there are any comments from the gallery. A nun stands and asks “May I address the court, your honor?”
“Of course, Mother superior!”
She glides up to bench and says “This deplorable witch has seduced four sisters of my convent who have rightfully have been publically humiliated and punished. I request that before she is hanged that she be publicly whipped on the Hill of Eastwick.”
“Mother Superior, your request is most reasonable. Bailiff, have the guards take the condemned witch to the Hill of Eastwick to be scourged 30 lashes at 2 o’clock!”
Her request is ‘reasonable’. I am to be hanged as a witch and her request is deemed ‘reasonable’? Who writes this crap- Tree?
But to the Hill of Eastwick I am taken. The shackles remain about my ankles but the iron manacles are removed and replaced with a rope that binds my wrists behind my back and a rope tied around my neck I am led through the crowds in Little Brampton and out into the countryside towards the Hill of Eastwick to be whipped.
On the way to the Hill of Eastwick I pass a woman who purrs with a heavy French accent “Oh, Barbara, you are going to look stunning as you are whipped and I cannot wait to see those magnificent breasts bounce and shake when your ‘tight little’ is hanged tomorrow! You will look almost as prefect as I would!”
“Fuck you, Messa” I hiss. “If you think you’d look better why don’t you take my place?”
“Perhaps sometime I will but I cannot miss this show!”
I arrive at the Hill of Eastwick. My wrists are freed from behind my back, tied in front of me, and hoisted over my head. The man called ‘Bull’ reaches down and pulls a wicked looking bullwhip from a bucket with liquid dripping from it. Angrily I ask “Is that your bosses piss?”
He laughs and says “You should be so lucky, Barbara! No, it is salt brine!”
Shit!
-Barbara Moore
While Barb ishaving the shit whipped out of her suffering her scourging on the Hill of Eastwick back in Little Brampton the novitiate Sister Perpetua is brought before Archbishop Wragg naked and in irons. He bellows “What is the meaning of this?”
“Archbishop this is how she requested her audience with you!” a cleric replies.
“Is this true” Wragg asks in a gentle fatherly voice.
“Your Eminence, it is” she replies. “I have a request to make of you and this is the only way I can make it. As you know, I came to the convent with child due to wanton sexual appetite. I succumbed to the temptations of the witch Barbara Moore not because her spell was stronger than my faith but because I wanted to give into the sins of the flesh. Even after my public flogging I fear I will seduce my fellow sisters to debauchery unthinkable by you. There can be only one solution and that is I am hanged tomorrow and this vile body be roasted as witch-meat to drive Satan from my soul!”
The archbishop looked down at the young nun and could imagine the debauchery she would indulge in and would not mind watching but he clasped his hands in front of his growing erection and declares “Very well; tomorrow Sister Perpetua shall be hanged by the neck for a quarter of an hour at which time she will be removed from the noose and live or dead will be slow roasted by Dorothy Brown until her soul is cleansed!”
“God bless you” the young nun says. “May I kiss your ring?”
“You may not touch me, you sinful wench” he yells as he storms off to his private quarters to fuck Sister Ulrika.
At that same moment Barbara Moore is being led back through the streets of Little Brampton after being scourged with a whip soaked with salt brine.
Tree
So I confessed! I lasted longer than you could have. The torture stopped and it wasn’t going to end even if the Harvest Festival did. I am placed in a cell that has real mattress- OK, it is thin worn-out pair of couch pillows and I have an iron collar around my neck- but I am not being beaten, raped, probed, or torn inside with a pear. Besides being hanged by the neck what is wrong with my plan? God I miss my bed in the blue state.
I get a few hours of sleep before a monk comes in and hands me the confession to sign. I hesitate a moment knowing I am effectively signing my death warrant. The monk tells me his patience is limited and if I don’t sign now my toes and the fingers of my right hand could match the broken fingers of my left hand. With a sigh I sign my life away. Later in the morning I am brought before the court of Little Brampton wearing a ragged faded dress, shackles, and manacles. The top of the dress is ripped from me baring me done to my waist. I try to clinch my hands into fists but winch in pain as I flex my broken fingers.
It takes less than a quarter hour before I am declared guilty of being a heretic and promiscuous sorceress and am condemned to be hanged by the neck until dead from the Little Brampton’s market square gallows late Friday evening. My knees weaken but I toss my hair from shoulders and hold my head high to mask the dread filling me. The magistrate asks if there are any comments from the gallery. A nun stands and asks “May I address the court, your honor?”
“Of course, Mother superior!”
She glides up to bench and says “This deplorable witch has seduced four sisters of my convent who have rightfully have been publically humiliated and punished. I request that before she is hanged that she be publicly whipped on the Hill of Eastwick.”
“Mother Superior, your request is most reasonable. Bailiff, have the guards take the condemned witch to the Hill of Eastwick to be scourged 30 lashes at 2 o’clock!”
Her request is ‘reasonable’. I am to be hanged as a witch and her request is deemed ‘reasonable’? Who writes this crap- Tree?
But to the Hill of Eastwick I am taken. The shackles remain about my ankles but the iron manacles are removed and replaced with a rope that binds my wrists behind my back and a rope tied around my neck I am led through the crowds in Little Brampton and out into the countryside towards the Hill of Eastwick to be whipped.
On the way to the Hill of Eastwick I pass a woman who purrs with a heavy French accent “Oh, Barbara, you are going to look stunning as you are whipped and I cannot wait to see those magnificent breasts bounce and shake when your ‘tight little’ is hanged tomorrow! You will look almost as prefect as I would!”
“Fuck you, Messa” I hiss. “If you think you’d look better why don’t you take my place?”
“Perhaps sometime I will but I cannot miss this show!”
I arrive at the Hill of Eastwick. My wrists are freed from behind my back, tied in front of me, and hoisted over my head. The man called ‘Bull’ reaches down and pulls a wicked looking bullwhip from a bucket with liquid dripping from it. Angrily I ask “Is that your bosses piss?”
He laughs and says “You should be so lucky, Barbara! No, it is salt brine!”
Shit!
-Barbara Moore
While Barb is
“Archbishop this is how she requested her audience with you!” a cleric replies.
“Is this true” Wragg asks in a gentle fatherly voice.
“Your Eminence, it is” she replies. “I have a request to make of you and this is the only way I can make it. As you know, I came to the convent with child due to wanton sexual appetite. I succumbed to the temptations of the witch Barbara Moore not because her spell was stronger than my faith but because I wanted to give into the sins of the flesh. Even after my public flogging I fear I will seduce my fellow sisters to debauchery unthinkable by you. There can be only one solution and that is I am hanged tomorrow and this vile body be roasted as witch-meat to drive Satan from my soul!”
The archbishop looked down at the young nun and could imagine the debauchery she would indulge in and would not mind watching but he clasped his hands in front of his growing erection and declares “Very well; tomorrow Sister Perpetua shall be hanged by the neck for a quarter of an hour at which time she will be removed from the noose and live or dead will be slow roasted by Dorothy Brown until her soul is cleansed!”
“God bless you” the young nun says. “May I kiss your ring?”
“You may not touch me, you sinful wench” he yells as he storms off to his private quarters to fuck Sister Ulrika.
At that same moment Barbara Moore is being led back through the streets of Little Brampton after being scourged with a whip soaked with salt brine.
Tree
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I was hoping we might stop along the way here to smell the flowers ... Errrrkkkkkkkkkkk ... ok ok, just a suggestion.
“Oh, Barbara, you are going to look stunning as you are whipped and I cannot wait to see those magnificent breasts bounce and shake when your ‘tight little’ is hanged tomorrow! You will look almost as prefect as I would!”Ummm ... Messa ... could you please say that in French for me (I know Tree can't)? I would love to know what 'tight little' sounds like?
You're not really going to use that silly looking thing on me are you? And why 2:00 and 30 lashes? If we wait till 3:00 would it be 20 lashes? Or if it's 1:00, 40 lashes? Does Tree ever think about these kinds of things? Krak ... Owwwww Krak .... Gahhhhhh Krak ... Owwww Krak .... Argghhhhh (guess not).
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Tree does not think... He reports- You decide...
Tree
I've heard that somewhere before.
That innocence act doesn't cut it anymore ... although the "Tree does not think" part is accurate enough
View attachment 435878 That innocence act doesn't cut it anymore ... although the "Tree does not think" part is accurate enough
...though what happens late Friday sort of overshadows demerits!
Some GIFs in this batch…
I am placed in the old Little Brampton jail that overlooks the gallows in the market square. I try not to look but like a moth to light every time the command ‘Raise the witch’ is given I look. Tomorrow around this time that command will be for me! Across from me in another cell is the young illegitimate daughter of Archbishop Wragg. As yet another woman is hanged I lean against the cell wall.
Mary says to me “I presume you have confessed, Barbara.”
“Yes I did” I reply “after sitting on a hot spiked chair and having my fingers broken one by one.”
“When do you hang” she asks.
“Late tomorrow; when do you?”
“Later today; are you going watch?”
“I don’t want to” I reply.
“It would be of some comfort to me if I knew you did.”
“Fine, Mary, if that’s what you want I will” I say. In truth I probably would have anyway.
Brought to Little Brampton is the Countess of West Brampton, the wife of the Earl of the same said territory.
She has been convicted a witch for ‘obscene crimes’ that cannot be detailed even in Crux Forums! Since she had already birthed children and there was no claim of a ‘virgin birth’ by either she or her husband there was no reason to ‘deflower’ her vaginally however since her husband noted she had refused anal penetration it must have been how she engaged Satan. It is decided before being burned at the stake that night she must be taken by a human and a guard known as ‘Bull’ (for a certain part of his anatomy) is chosen for that task. When she sees his huge member she groans “Just burn me now!”
She would not be so fortunate
He was relentless as he pummeled her bottom.
Her body is slammed against the post with each violent thrust as she moans “Fuck that hurts.”
As Bull comes closer to cumming the assault on rectum becomes more violent and her eyes roll up
After he shoots his load into her bowels he quickly withdraws leaving the countess sweating and panting in disbelief as to what has just been done to her!
She would soon be taken to stake in Little Brampton’s Market Square where she could see the witches hanged and the crowd of commoners could jeer and mock the fallen countess until she would be burned during the close of Thursday’s activities.
Tree
I am placed in the old Little Brampton jail that overlooks the gallows in the market square. I try not to look but like a moth to light every time the command ‘Raise the witch’ is given I look. Tomorrow around this time that command will be for me! Across from me in another cell is the young illegitimate daughter of Archbishop Wragg. As yet another woman is hanged I lean against the cell wall.
Mary says to me “I presume you have confessed, Barbara.”
“Yes I did” I reply “after sitting on a hot spiked chair and having my fingers broken one by one.”
“When do you hang” she asks.
“Late tomorrow; when do you?”
“Later today; are you going watch?”
“I don’t want to” I reply.
“It would be of some comfort to me if I knew you did.”
“Fine, Mary, if that’s what you want I will” I say. In truth I probably would have anyway.
Brought to Little Brampton is the Countess of West Brampton, the wife of the Earl of the same said territory.
She has been convicted a witch for ‘obscene crimes’ that cannot be detailed even in Crux Forums! Since she had already birthed children and there was no claim of a ‘virgin birth’ by either she or her husband there was no reason to ‘deflower’ her vaginally however since her husband noted she had refused anal penetration it must have been how she engaged Satan. It is decided before being burned at the stake that night she must be taken by a human and a guard known as ‘Bull’ (for a certain part of his anatomy) is chosen for that task. When she sees his huge member she groans “Just burn me now!”
She would not be so fortunate
He was relentless as he pummeled her bottom.
Her body is slammed against the post with each violent thrust as she moans “Fuck that hurts.”
As Bull comes closer to cumming the assault on rectum becomes more violent and her eyes roll up
After he shoots his load into her bowels he quickly withdraws leaving the countess sweating and panting in disbelief as to what has just been done to her!
She would soon be taken to stake in Little Brampton’s Market Square where she could see the witches hanged and the crowd of commoners could jeer and mock the fallen countess until she would be burned during the close of Thursday’s activities.
Tree
perhaps you would prefer to replace the countess at the stake...View attachment 436126 Woe is me. I feel like crying. Damn it's cold in here. Just look at my tumescence
