-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
Barb Time Travels...
- Thread starter thehangingtree
- Start date
Don't let me hear anyone singing 'Always look on the bright side of life'
And a nightmare ending!
Barb awakes screaming as bullets rip through her body!
But, fear ye not....
She was soon feeling better
Don't let me hear anyone singing 'Always look on the bright side of life'
And a nightmare ending!
Barb awakes screaming as bullets rip through her body!
But, fear ye not....
View attachment 416987
She was soon feeling better
LittleSiss
Sorceress
well, in 1937 you could always ....
View attachment 416998
(I thought it said, 'get a life with a camel')
Women's liberation, 1937 style:
View attachment 416999
All the old fashioned "housewife" things aside ...
Tintometer??????????????? REALLY?
My last night’s high point is I am not raped, buggered, or forced to suck guards’ cocks. The downside is without knowing it I have already had my last meal. I am transferred to a holding cell, strapped into a straightjacket, and a leather hood is pilled over my head. Blindly I am led to a wood ‘bed’ and am strapped to it.
In this muffled darkness I can hear workers outside doing something and occasionally cameras with flashbulbs going off. I find if I roll my tight little the crotch strap rubs my pussy just enough to get off. I don’t give a flying fuck who might be watching!
10 AM, Saturday, September 11, 1937
The workers Barb heard in the sweaty, hot, leather hood were erecting concession stands. You see the second Saturday in September is ‘sorority rush week’ at the College of the Virgin Martyrs and there were stocks and whipping posts that had to be erected, not to mention the concession stands that ring the temporary grandstands that circle killing field!.
I won’t get to see the ‘festivities’ beyond the stands that have been erected. I am brought out to the post and bound to it.
Ten yards behind me is a stack of sandbags thirty feet wide and twenty feet tall. I look back at the hooded man binding my wrist and ask in my best ‘gallows humor’ “Are you sure the backstop is big enough?”
“Tell me after the lead rips through your gut” he replies.
“I thought they are supposed to shoot my heart.”
“Whatever…”
“It looks like you didn’t sell many tickets” I note as I scan the nearly empty stands.
“You don’t get shot till 7 PM. It ain’t noon yet. They will be full” he says. “Tilt your head Barb so I can put the blindfold on.”
“NO! I never gave my ‘marks’ one. I will not take one!”
So seven hours to live… I'm needing a friend...
-Barbara Moore, so fucking screwed…
Tree
In this muffled darkness I can hear workers outside doing something and occasionally cameras with flashbulbs going off. I find if I roll my tight little the crotch strap rubs my pussy just enough to get off. I don’t give a flying fuck who might be watching!
10 AM, Saturday, September 11, 1937
The workers Barb heard in the sweaty, hot, leather hood were erecting concession stands. You see the second Saturday in September is ‘sorority rush week’ at the College of the Virgin Martyrs and there were stocks and whipping posts that had to be erected, not to mention the concession stands that ring the temporary grandstands that circle killing field!.
I won’t get to see the ‘festivities’ beyond the stands that have been erected. I am brought out to the post and bound to it.
Ten yards behind me is a stack of sandbags thirty feet wide and twenty feet tall. I look back at the hooded man binding my wrist and ask in my best ‘gallows humor’ “Are you sure the backstop is big enough?”
“Tell me after the lead rips through your gut” he replies.
“I thought they are supposed to shoot my heart.”
“Whatever…”
“It looks like you didn’t sell many tickets” I note as I scan the nearly empty stands.
“You don’t get shot till 7 PM. It ain’t noon yet. They will be full” he says. “Tilt your head Barb so I can put the blindfold on.”
“NO! I never gave my ‘marks’ one. I will not take one!”
So seven hours to live… I'm needing a friend...
-Barbara Moore, so fucking screwed…
Tree
Leave it to Nailus Martyrs to market a straightjacket equipped with a "pleasure" strap. Who else would ever think of that?
I was quite disappointed to learn that I would not be able to witness the annual UVM sorority rush ... due to being bound to this post 7 hours in advance of my execution. What other university forces hopeful young nubile pledges to demonstrate their eagerness for snooty social acceptance by dancing naked under the lash at a whipping post or being humiliated through public ridicule while held naked in the stocks? 
I thought refusing a blindfold was a class act! Now, maybe if I make faces at the firing squad ... stick out my tongue, cross my eyes, kluck my tongue, etc. ... I can make them all miss. Ok, so it's a long shot (no pun intended). I'm getting a little desperate here. Ouch! Careful Tree. Don't bind my wrists so tightly! It's not like I am going anywhere now, is it? 
Oh, for Gawds sake, Tree. I do love your manips of me, but was it really necessary to do one from THAT angle? Geeze!!! Give this poor girl a break! There goes my Midwestern modesty ... shot all to hell! 
View attachment 417059 Leave it to Nailus Martyrs to market a straightjacket equipped with a "pleasure" strap. Who else would ever think of that?
View attachment 417060 I was quite disappointed to learn that I would not be able to witness the annual UVM sorority rush ... due to being bound to this post 7 hours in advance of my execution. What other university forces hopeful young nubile pledges to demonstrate their eagerness for snooty social acceptance by dancing naked under the lash at a whipping post or being humiliated through public ridicule while held naked in the stocks?
View attachment 417061 I thought refusing a blindfold was a class act! Now, maybe if I make faces at the firing squad ... stick out my tongue, cross my eyes, kluck my tongue, etc. ... I can make them all miss. Ok, so it's a long shot (no pun intended). I'm getting a little desperate here. Ouch! Careful Tree. Don't bind my wrists so tightly! It's not like I am going anywhere now, is it?
View attachment 417062 Oh, for Gawds sake, Tree. I do love your manips of me, but was it really necessary to do one from THAT angle? Geeze!!! Give this poor girl a break! There goes my Midwestern modesty ... shot all to hell!
On Saturday, September 11, 1937 Miss Barbara Moore stands bound to a post in the quadrangle of the College of the Virgin Martyrs for her last afternoon alive. At the same time, Barb Moore and her friend Siss stand tied to posts in the quadrangle of the University of the Virgin Martyrs, Barb tied just as she is she is in parallel universe 79 years earlier with Siss next to her wrists bound behind her post but above her head. They too are waiting for their firing squad!
What is this? It seems Barb and Siss were invited to the faculty party at Chancellor Emeritus Despard Wragg’s residence, the Cruxton Abbey West. They looked rather hot and they went to the women’s restroom to ‘power their noses’. Barb said to Siss “Look there are just a bunch of stiff shirts and uppity bitches here. Let’s find a bedroom and do a quickie!”
“Are you crazy? We both have five major demerits and we aren’t even two weeks into the semester” Siss protested.
But Barb was not to be denied. She turned to Siss and flashed her tits. Siss huffed “You win but it has to be a quickie!”
They found an empty bedroom and carefully laid out their gowns so when they put them back on they would not be wrinkled then hopped into bed. They quickly would lose track of time.
An hour later they were still going at it.
They probably would have gone on a few more hours until they were interrupted by Chancellor Wragg’s butler Riff who, standing in the door, says “Ladies, you are missed in ballroom!”
“Don’t bother reaching for your gowns. You look fine as you are” Riff says. “Guards, seize them.”
And so they were and they were the stars of the party yet were the only two that did not enjoy the rest of the party.
On Sunday morning they were paraded bound and naked across campus to the quadrangle where they would be bound to the posts at noon to wait until their 7 PM date with the firing squad.
Tree
What is this? It seems Barb and Siss were invited to the faculty party at Chancellor Emeritus Despard Wragg’s residence, the Cruxton Abbey West. They looked rather hot and they went to the women’s restroom to ‘power their noses’. Barb said to Siss “Look there are just a bunch of stiff shirts and uppity bitches here. Let’s find a bedroom and do a quickie!”
“Are you crazy? We both have five major demerits and we aren’t even two weeks into the semester” Siss protested.
But Barb was not to be denied. She turned to Siss and flashed her tits. Siss huffed “You win but it has to be a quickie!”
They found an empty bedroom and carefully laid out their gowns so when they put them back on they would not be wrinkled then hopped into bed. They quickly would lose track of time.
An hour later they were still going at it.
They probably would have gone on a few more hours until they were interrupted by Chancellor Wragg’s butler Riff who, standing in the door, says “Ladies, you are missed in ballroom!”
“Don’t bother reaching for your gowns. You look fine as you are” Riff says. “Guards, seize them.”
And so they were and they were the stars of the party yet were the only two that did not enjoy the rest of the party.
On Sunday morning they were paraded bound and naked across campus to the quadrangle where they would be bound to the posts at noon to wait until their 7 PM date with the firing squad.
Tree
Parallel universes (or times), that's very innovative Tree! Stop yakking at me Siss. This is a serious matter. I am in deep shit in two times at the same time. Did I just say that? 
What happened to my hair!!!! 
mmmmmmmmmmmmmm .... gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh 
69 
What the fuck? 
Holy Shit! It's Mr. Creepy!!! 
What are you all looking at? You'd walk funny if they made you step on hot coals too!!!
I thought you two looked marvelous with the your dresses and hair...View attachment 417152 Parallel universes (or times), that's very innovative Tree! Stop yakking at me Siss. This is a serious matter. I am in deep shit in two times at the same time. Did I just say that?
View attachment 417154 What happened to my hair!!!!
View attachment 417155 mmmmmmmmmmmmmm .... gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
View attachment 417156 69
View attachment 417158 What the fuck?
View attachment 417157 Holy Shit! It's Mr. Creepy!!!
View attachment 417160 What are you all looking at? You'd walk funny if they made you step on hot coals too!!!
This is a serious matter. I am in deep shit in two times at the same time. Did I just say that?
I think I'm getting one of my headaches.....
“Barb, was this a good idea?” Siss asks.
“How the fuck should I know? I never was shot before!” I reply.
“Can they really do this to us” Siss asks.
“I have no idea, Siss. Is it 1937 or 2016?” I reply.
“What happens in 1937?” Siss asks.
“I don’t know; I was never there!” Barb says”
‘What year is it?’ I wonder.
Barbara Moore –I wonder if it is 2016 or In a tradition started when the College of the Virgin Martyrs as brought from the Archbishop of the Major Brampton Diocese of the island nation, the Harvest Festival always featured the freshman class of sorority sisters passing their induction into their chosen house.
Induction would feature being displayed in pillories…
…and even being whipped when lock in!
Others are lewdly displayed in stocks.
The practice goes on even today though institutes call it ‘hazing’.
The group ‘People for Ethical Lives and Treatment of Students’ even protests the event. They are a pack of fucking liberals with no respect for traditions!
You would not believe the ribald and vulgar jokes made of the acronym of their name PELTS. Well, Tree is writing this so maybe you would!
But a new tradition was started that fateful day in September 1937. The Harvest Festival Queen would arrive in the convertible she had triumphant rode in waving to the crowd along the parade route the day before is now delivered to the far end of the killing lane where Miss Barbara Moore stands bound to the post waiting (dreading?) her execution where a whipping frame is set. She is stripped by the Director of Discipline Jane Tree and bound to receive a score of lashes!
So while Barb and Siss await the firing squad the 2016 Harvest Festival Queen waits proudly with tumescent nipples for her score of lashes!
Tree
“How the fuck should I know? I never was shot before!” I reply.
“Can they really do this to us” Siss asks.
“I have no idea, Siss. Is it 1937 or 2016?” I reply.
“What happens in 1937?” Siss asks.
“I don’t know; I was never there!” Barb says”
‘What year is it?’ I wonder.
Barbara Moore –I wonder if it is 2016 or In a tradition started when the College of the Virgin Martyrs as brought from the Archbishop of the Major Brampton Diocese of the island nation, the Harvest Festival always featured the freshman class of sorority sisters passing their induction into their chosen house.
Induction would feature being displayed in pillories…
…and even being whipped when lock in!
Others are lewdly displayed in stocks.
The practice goes on even today though institutes call it ‘hazing’.
The group ‘People for Ethical Lives and Treatment of Students’ even protests the event. They are a pack of fucking liberals with no respect for traditions!
You would not believe the ribald and vulgar jokes made of the acronym of their name PELTS. Well, Tree is writing this so maybe you would!
But a new tradition was started that fateful day in September 1937. The Harvest Festival Queen would arrive in the convertible she had triumphant rode in waving to the crowd along the parade route the day before is now delivered to the far end of the killing lane where Miss Barbara Moore stands bound to the post waiting (dreading?) her execution where a whipping frame is set. She is stripped by the Director of Discipline Jane Tree and bound to receive a score of lashes!
So while Barb and Siss await the firing squad the 2016 Harvest Festival Queen waits proudly with tumescent nipples for her score of lashes!
Tree
Attachments
Last edited:
Tree must note to this day Little Brampton is still the official site of witch elimination. While social scientists and progressives argue there is no evidence that witchcraft existed then or now and most women were executed for convenience to eliminate problem daughters and wives while conservative zealots point to the centuries of witch executions that explains why there is a smaller percent of wenches in the population that are witches.
I suppose there are validities to both sides…
I took THT One to the island nation to watch the Harvest Week Festival.
Oh, sure, some traditions fade. Some of the wenches are delivered to Little Brampton in cable zip-ties instead of chains.
Other things don’t change. Little Brampton still does not have room for all the witches delivered.
They stack them where they can.
I walk through the stalls and come across Barb Moore and ask “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I was doing research for my PhD.”
“I doubt you will be writing your thesis” I observe…
Tree
I suppose there are validities to both sides…
I took THT One to the island nation to watch the Harvest Week Festival.
Oh, sure, some traditions fade. Some of the wenches are delivered to Little Brampton in cable zip-ties instead of chains.
Other things don’t change. Little Brampton still does not have room for all the witches delivered.
They stack them where they can.
I walk through the stalls and come across Barb Moore and ask “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I was doing research for my PhD.”
“I doubt you will be writing your thesis” I observe…
Tree
andy01
Magistrate
That picture of Rosaleen sitting in the stocks raises two questions in my mind.
One is just "How miserly does someone have to be to cut a tomato in quarters before throwing it at her?"
The other has long puzzled me. Look at her right wrist and the size of the aperture in the stocks. I suppose the stocks had to be large enough to fit the most muscular, well-fed felon. But then surely a slender girl could have pulled her wrist free. Very untidy that, so what was the procedure to prevent it?
She forgot she could???That picture of Rosaleen sitting in the stocks raises two questions in my mind.
One is just "How miserly does someone have to be to cut a tomato in quarters before throwing it at her?"
The other has long puzzled me. Look at her right wrist and the size of the aperture in the stocks. I suppose the stocks had to be large enough to fit the most muscular, well-fed felon. But then surely a slender girl could have pulled her wrist free. Very untidy that, so what was the procedure to prevent it?
Knock it off... I can't manip everything!!!
andy01
Magistrate
I didn't mean that as a criticism at all. Those are great pics, and thanks for them. But it really is a question that has nagged me. History books calmly report "he was put in the stocks," "he was condemned to stand in the stocks" but seem to suppose that one size fitted all.She forgot she could???