BARB'S PARIS HOLIDAY

[messaline]

The French Version (I have seen in person and it is very nice)
View attachment 647390
is only 23 meters. While Washington is 169! Which would you girls find more impressive?

But do you know of what you're speaking ? This French / Egyptian obelisk is really a very old one, viewing that it's coming from Louxor ( Amon temple ) and was erected at the Place de la Concorde (Paris) on 1830 ...
It was made by Ramses II !
The two obelisks were offered in 1830 to the king of France Charles X by Mehemet Ali but only one of them was bringing to Paris .

 

[Loxuru]

I dare say I’ve never looked better ...

True!

You can leave your hat on!

The two obelisks were offered in 1830 to the king of France Charles X by Mehemet Ali but only one of them was bringing to Paris .

The English were offered one too, but they declined it.

But gradually, the British became jealous on the French' obelisk, and in 1877, they decided to get their own and erect it in London. It is named 'Cleopatra's Needle'.

It was transported from Alexandria by a cylinder shaped vessel (something ressembling a submarine). But in the Bay of Biscay, the tow broke in a storm. The vessel with its ancient cargo was thought lost and sunk, but it had remained afloat and was finally salvaged by another ship. It is said the captain of that ship first considered to have the needle sold for breaking it up for gravel for tennis courts. Finally, after negociating a salvage claim, the needle was brought to London.

 

[Loxuru]

Meanwhile, a recent posting by Pierre

http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/tortured-women.5664/page-151#post-418771

Makes clear that, if Barb had not complained, and behaved nicely to that friendly Arkansas police officer, she would have got away with instant justice on the spot. She would be enjoying her holiday now!

 

[Barbaria1]

Meanwhile, a recent posting by Pierre

http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/tortured-women.5664/page-151#post-418771

Makes clear that, if Barb had not complained, and behaved nicely to that friendly Arkansas police officer, she would have got away with instant justice on the spot. She would be enjoying her holiday now!

Missed opportunity...what a shame

 

[Barbaria1]

Chapter 4

And so I spent the next three hours ... quite probably the last three of my life ... lying naked on a cot in a Paris, Arkansas, jailhouse cell. Officer Hattie Tree stopped by early on to apply salve to my whipped backside. I'm not sure what was in that salve, but it soothed and healed my back with amazing speed. For some reason, it also made me unbelievably horny.

Near the end of my death row vigil in the cell, I was visited by Father Hawthorne Tree who kindly offered to absolve me of all my sins, past and present. I thanked him for the thought, but declined and sent him away ... wondering, given the look on his face, whether he had witnessed what I had been doing with my fingers just before he entered my cell.

No sooner was the good Father gone than Officer Hattie Tree returned bearing my last meal ... a cold McD's hamburger, a bag of stale fries, and a cup of warm soda. I greedily wolfed them down while she watched, and couldn't help notice how she kept checking to see whether I had been fingering myself. I began to wonder if that was a crime in Arkansas too.

"What's in that lotion?" I said to her, between bites of burger. "It's done wonders for the whip marks, but it's made me ... well ... you know ..."

"Laced with Joan Tree's patented horny potion, Sweetie. I figured ya could use a 'little pick me up' after what yer been through this morning, and it's sure to help ya out later this afternoon when yer out thar a swingin' from the town gibbet."

As I washed down the dry, stale fries with warm flat soda, and resisted the urge to start fingering myself again, she kept looking at her watch. Eventually she stood up and said it was time to go. Almost as an afterthought, she asked me whether I needed to relieve myself. I said no, having had nearly nothing to eat for the previous 24 hours, I felt no need even after downing my last meal.

"Suit yourself, Sweetie," she replied, rolling her eyes.

Then she produced a collar, to which was attached a long leash, in addition to a pair of handcuffs. Moments later, collared and cuffed, she led me naked through the jailhouse and out the front door. At the top of the jailhouse steps, I recoiled in horror at the specter of the town square, with its scaffold, gibbet and empty white rope noose ... not to mention the size of the crowd, which filled the entire square to overflowing, spilling into the side streets as well.

"Well, Sweetie .... would ya look at that!" exulted Hattie. "Yer a regular rock star! This town ain't seen a crowd like this since that special shipment of mail order virgin brides arrived by stagecoach from out East over a century ago."

"I suppose I should feel flattered, but somehow I don't."

"Well, that noose is a waitin' fer ya, Sweetie. No time to lose."

With that she handed the leash over to Officer Hiram Tree, who had come to meet us on the Jailhouse steps. Hiram greeted me cheerily and promptly gave the leash a good tug, propelling me down the steps and into the crowd, which was neatly parted to make way by a phalanx of Paris PD men in blue.



"I'm coming, I'm coming!" I complained after each of the first few tugs on my leash. But then as the crowd closed in behind me, chanting that same refrain and attempting to grope me, I hustled to keep up with Hiram, and soon found myself at the foot of the stairs leading to the scaffold above.

"She's all yers!" called Hiram to whoever was up there. He removed my leash and collar and forced me up onto the first step with a gentle shove. On my own, at least for the moment, I ascended one step at a time, doing what I could to slow everything down. I didn't want to die. I was beginning to regret turning down Hattie's offer to relieve myself, and I was desperately thinking about whether there was anyway out of this mess!

As I neared the top step, a raucous cheer rang out from the assembled mob below at the same time as a hand reached out to guide me up onto the scaffold. I looked up.

Holy Shit! It was Tree! ... standing there plain as day, a drink in his hand, wearing shades, yellow hat on his head with that moronic "THT" badge attached to the headband.

"What are you doing up here," I gasped.

"They needed a licensed executioner."

"What the fuck, Tree. You can't do that! You're supposed to be on my side!"

"Money is money, Barb. Besides, I can make your time on the rope easier on you. I have some of Joan's horny potion I can give you."

"Don't bother. Officer Hattie Tree beat you to it," I muttered dryly.

"Ummmm, yes. I can see that she has. A bit wet down there already, are you?"

"Shut up, Tree!"

"No need to get snippy. This way, Barb. Your noose is over here and the crowd is getting impatient."

He led me across the scaffolding, and helped me mount the stool beneath the noose, before slipping it over my head and professionally tightening it around my neck just behind my left ear.



"Ready now?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I groaned. I began to tremble. Looking down I watched wide-eyed as the crowd surged forward, jostling with one another for the best vantage point, cell phone cameras held aloft. A film crew with an RR Productions logo on their equipment were setting up on the far end of the scaffold. The crowd began to take up the chant again, "Hang her, Hang her!"

"Want some advice?" asked Tree nonchalantly as he leaned against the gibbet poll.



"Like what?"

"Well, for starters ... be sure to kick and squirm. Those folks are expecting to see a good dance. Be sure to shake your tits too"

"What? That's insane! Why should I do that?"

"So the video sells well. The size of my fee is dependent on the RR Productions video sales."

"Oh Shit, Tree! Why do I even bother with you?"

"Oh ... and one more thing, Barb .... while your up there performing the dance of a lifetime, try not to pee or shit until the very end. Just keep thinking about how horny you are. If you can possibly cum halfway through the dance, they'll love you for it ... the bigger the orgasm, the better!”

"Geeeze!"

"Oh ... and last but not least, Barb, remember this is a ‘slow drop’ hanging. You won’t fall hard enough, when I kick the stool out from under your feet, to break your neck. That means you ought to be good for a performance that lasts at least twenty minutes. If you can possibly top half an hour that would be super!"

I was not amused!



But the crowd was getting restless. The chant was getting louder and more insistent.

“It’s time, Barb, take a deep breath and hold it,” instructed Tree as he sauntered over, gave me a gentle pat on the ass, and kicked the stool out from under my feet.

I dropped into thin air, kicking wildly, but was immediately brought up short by the noose, which bit into my neck. I gasped, choked and kicked harder, feet vainly flailing about for something to stand on.



“Dance, baby dance”, someone yelled from out in the crowd, which sparked a merciless wave of laughter, catcalls and whistles.

My eyes teared up and my face turned red as I desperately fought for breath. My lungs ached. The noose kept getting tighter. I had begun to slowly spin around and jerk spasmodically.

“Shake it up baby!” someone shouted, as I writhed lewdly, thrusting my pelvis out, shaking my ass and boobs, scissoring my legs.

Through my increasingly foggy consciousness I heard Tree saying, “You’re doing great Barb! Ten minutes already and you’ve got them going out there. Try for that orgasm now!”

And, almost on cue, I was aware of that familiar sensation rising in my loins and building rapidly to a climax. Moments later I bucked and exploded.

“Hoohaw! Will ya look at that! That crazy Yankee whore just squirted!” shouted a good ole boy near the front of the crowd. More catcalls, whistles followed, along with thunderous round of applause.

My humiliation was complete and the end was near. The square began to spin before my eyes, I was losing control. Everything was going black.

*************

“Look, she’s waking up!”

I blinked, twitched and grasped at my neck.

“Yep, she’s coming around.”

“Auntie Em?” I croaked as four faces leaning anxiously over me came into poor focus.

“It’s not Kansas, Barb. You’re in the Treehouse. You passed out after breakfast. You were about to get in the shower. Good thing I was peeking through the keyhole and was able to rush in and catch you!” explained Tree softly.

“I’m not dead? I’m not in Arkansas? No one is trying to hang me?

“No, but you just had one hell of an orgasm a moment ago ... squirted right in Bull’s face!”

I blinked again. I could make out everyone clearly: Tree ... Bull, wiping at his face with a towel, ... Gunner, with a shit-eating grin ... and even Joan, frowning as always!

“Joan, here, thinks you must have accidentally sat on one of her horny darts when you were getting ready to shower,” continued Tree.

“Oh shit!”

“It worked,” added Joan unnecessarily.

 

[thehangingtree]

Chapter 4

And so I spent the next three hours ... quite probably the last three of my life ... lying naked on a cot in a Paris, Arkansas jailhouse cell. Officer Hattie Tree stopped by early on to apply salve to my whipped backside. I'm not sure what was in that salve, but it soothed and healed my back with amazing speed. For some reason, it also made me unbelievably horny.

Near the end of my death row vigil in the cell, I was visited by Father Hawthorne Tree who kindly offered to absolve me of all my sins, past and present. I thanked him for the thought, but declined and sent him away ... wondering, given the look on his face, whether he had witnessed what I had just been doing with my fingers just before he entered my cell.

No sooner was the good Father gone gone than Officer Hattie Tree returned bearing my last meal ... a cold McD's hamburger, a bag of stale fries, and a cup of warm soda. I greedily wolfed them down while she watched, and couldn't help notice how she kept checking to see whether I had been fingering myself. I began to wonder if that was a crime in Arkansas too.

"What's in that lotion?" I said to her, between bites of burger. "It's done wonders for the whip marks, but it's made me ... well ... you know ..."

"Laced with Joan Tree's patented horny potion, Sweetie. I figured ya could use a 'little pick me up' after what yer been through this morning, and it's sure to help ya out later this afternoon when yer out thar a swingin' from the town gibbet."

As I washed down the dry, stale fries with warm flat soda, and resisted the urge to start fingering myself again, she kept looking at her watch. Eventually she stood up and said it was time to go. Almost as an afterthought, she asked me whether I needed to relieve myself. I said no, having had nearly nothing to eat for the previous 24 hours, I felt no need even after downing my last meal.

"Suit yourself, Sweetie," she replied, rolling her eyes.

Then she produced a collar to which was attached a long leash, in addition to a pair of handcuffs. Moments later, collared and cuffed, she led me naked through the jailhouse and out the front door. At the top of the jailhouse steps, I recoiled in horror at the specter of the town square, with its scaffold, gibbet and empty white rope noose ... not to mention the size of the crowd, which filled the entire square to overflowing, spilling into the side streets as well.

"Well, Sweetie .... would ya look at that!" exulted Hattie. "Yer a regular rock star! This town ain't seen a crowd like this since that special shipment of mail order virgin brides arrived by stagecoach from out East over a century ago."

"I suppose I should feel flattered, but somehow I don't."

"Well, that noose is a waitin' fer ya, Sweetie. No time to lose."

With that she handed the leash over to Officer Hiram Tree, who had come to meet us on the Jailhouse steps. Hiram greeted me cheerily and promptly gave the leash a good tug, propelling me down the steps and into the crowd, which was neatly parted to make way by a phalanx of Paris PD men in blue.

View attachment 647604

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" I complained after each of the first few tugs on my leash. But then as the crowd closed in behind me, chanting that same refrain and attempting to grope me, I hustled to keep up with Hiram, and soon found myself at the foot of the stairs leading to the scaffold above.

"She's all yers!" called Hiram to whoever was up there. He removed my leash and collar and forced me up onto the first step with a gentle shove. On my own, at least for the moment, I ascended one step at a time, doing what I could to slow everything down. I didn't want to die. I was beginning to regret turning down Hattie's offer to relieve myself, and I was desperately thinking about whether there was anyway out of this mess!

As I neared the top step, a raucous cheer rang out from the assembled mob below at the same time as a hand reached out to guide me up onto the scaffold. I looked up.

Holy Shit! It was Tree! ... standing there plain as day, a drink in his hand, wearing shades, yellow hat on his head with that moronic "THT" badge attached to the headband.

"What are you doing up here," I gasped.

"They needed a licensed executioner."

"What the fuck, Tree. You can't do that! You're supposed to be on my side!"

"Money is money, Barb. Besides, I can make your time on the rope easier on you. I have some of Joan's horny potion I can give you."

"Don't bother. Officer Hattie Tree beat you to it," I muttered dryly.

"Ummmm, yes. I can see that she has. A bit wet down there already, are you?"

"Shut up, Tree!"

"No need to get snippy. This way, Barb. Your noose is over here and the crowd is getting impatient."

He led me across the scaffolding, and helped me mount the stool beneath the noose, before slipping it over my head and professionally tightening it around my neck just behind my left ear.

View attachment 647607

"Ready now?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I groaned. I began to tremble. Looking down I watched wide-eyed as the crowd surged forward, jostling with one another for the best vantage point, cell phone cameras held aloft. A film crew with an RR Productions logo on their equipment were setting up on the far end of the scaffold. The crowd began to take up the chant again, "Hang her, Hang her!"

"Want some advice?" asked Tree nonchalantly as he leaned against the gibbet poll.

View attachment 647605

"Like what?"

"Well, for starters ... be sure to kick and squirm. Those folks are expecting to see a good dance. Be sure to shake your tits too"

"What? That's insane! Why should I do that?"

"So the video sells well. The size of my fee is dependent on the RR Productions video sales."

"Oh Shit, Tree! Why do I even bother with you?"

"Oh ... and one more thing, Barb .... while your up there performing the dance of a lifetime, try not to pee or shit until the very end. Just keep thinking about how horny you are. If you can possibly cum halfway through the dance, they'll love you for it ... the bigger the orgasm, the better!”

"Geeeze!"

"Oh ... and last but not least, Barb, remember this is a ‘slow drop’ hanging. You won’t fall hard enough, when I kick the stool out from under your feet, to break your neck. That means you ought to be good for a performance that lasts at least twenty minutes. If you can possibly top half an hour that would be super!"

I was not amused!

View attachment 647603

But the crowd was getting restless. The chant was getting louder and more insistent.

“It’s time, Barb, take a deep breath and hold it,” instructed Tree as he sauntered over, gave me a gentle pat on the ass, and kicked the stool out from under my feet.

I dropped into thin air, kicking wildly, but was immediately brought up short by the noose, which bit into my neck. I gasped, choked and kicked harder, feet vainly flailing about for something to stand on.

View attachment 647606

“Dance, baby dance”, someone yelled from out in the crowd, which sparked a merciless wave of laughter, catcalls and whistles.

My eyes teared up and my face turned red as I desperately fought for breath. My lungs ached. The noose kept getting tighter. I had begun to slowly spin around and jerk spasmodically.

“Shake it up baby!” someone shouted, as I writhed lewdly, thrusting my pelvis out, shaking my ass and boobs, scissoring my legs.

Through my increasingly foggy consciousness I heard Tree saying, “You’re doing great Barb! Ten minutes already and you’ve got them going out there. Try for that orgasm now!”

And, almost on cue, I was aware of that familiar sensation rising in my loins and building rapidly to a climax. Moments later I bucked and exploded.

“Hoohaw! Will ya look at that! That crazy Yankee whore just squirted!” shouted a good ole boy near the front of the crowd. More catcalls, whistles followed, along with thunderous round of applause.

My humiliation was complete and the end was near. The square began to spin before my eyes, I was losing control. Everything was going black.

*************

“Look, she’s waking up!”

I blinked, twitched and grasped at my neck.

“Yep, she’s coming around.”

“Auntie Em?” I croaked as four faces leaning anxiously over me came into poor focus.

“It’s not Kansas, Barb. You’re in the Treehouse. You passed out after breakfast. You were about to get in the shower. Good thing I was peeking through the keyhole and was able to rush in and catch you!” explained Tree softly.

“I’m not dead? I’m not in Arkansas? No one is trying to hang me?

“No, but you just had one hell of an orgasm a moment ago ... squirted right in Bull’s face!”

I blinked again. I could make out everyone clearly: Tree ... Bull, wiping at his face with a towel, ... Gunner, with a shit-eating grin ... and even Joan, frowning as always!

“Joan, here, thinks you must have accidentally sat on one of her horny darts when you were getting ready to shower,” continued Tree.

“Oh shit!”

“It worked,” added Joan unnecessarily.

Quite the good tale, Barb!

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

But do you know of what you're speaking ? This French / Egyptian obelisk is really a very old one, viewing that it's coming from Louxor ( Amon temple ) and was erected at the Place de la Concorde (Paris) on 1830 ...
It was made by Ramses II !
The two obelisks were offered in 1830 to the king of France Charles X by Mehemet Ali but only one of them was bringing to Paris .

I have stood in the Place de la Concorde and admired the beautiful ancient phallis. The gold carving at the bottom showing the engineering of moving it from Egypt is wonderful. But to an American Male, you must understand, Bigger is always Better! (it might be trying to make up for a self-perceived lack of size.)

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

A mighty enjoyable little tale, Miss Barb. And a happy ending, or rather two. We get to hang you dead and we get you alive and your tight, little safe!

 

[windar]

I was visited by Father Hawthorne Tree who kindly offered to absolve me of all my sins, past and present.

If he'd asked for a complete list, we'd never get to the hanging

No sooner was the good Father gone than Officer Hattie Tree returned bearing my last meal ... a cold McD's hamburger, a bag of stale fries, and a cup of warm soda.

Oh, I get it, Moore. When it's Stan paying, it's Alain Ducasse, when Tree is footing the bill, MickeyD's is just dandy...

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

About time...

"They needed a licensed executioner."

So, I see, Tree, New York isn't the only place that requires a license...

"Oh ... and last but not least, Barb, remember this is a ‘slow drop’ hanging.

Should I come to the rescue? Well, what's in it for me?

 

[Barbaria1]

Oh, I get it, Moore. When it's Stan paying, it's Alain Ducasse, when Tree is footing the bill, MickeyD's is just dandy...

Some people are just easier to snooker into paying than others ...

 

[Barbaria1]

A mighty enjoyable little tale, Miss Barb. And a happy ending, or rather two. We get to hang you dead and we get you alive and your tight, little safe!

A little something for everyone ...

 

[Loxuru]

"What's in that lotion?" I said to her, between bites of burger. "It's done wonders for the whip marks, but it's made me ... well ... you know ..."

"Laced with Joan Tree's patented horny potion, Sweetie. I figured ya could use a 'little pick me up' after what yer been through this morning, and it's sure to help ya out later this afternoon when yer out thar a swingin' from the town gibbet."

“Joan, here, thinks you must have accidentally sat on one of her horny darts when you were getting ready to shower,” continued Tree.

I suspect the use (abuse?) of non FDA-approved medical substances in this (fine) story!?

 

[connoisseurs]

A mighty enjoyable little tale, Miss Barb. And a happy ending, or rather two. We get to hang you dead and we get you alive and your tight, little safe!

Very entertaining story. Especially the last part has all my heart (and other parts) are longing for!

 

[Jollyrei]

I could have saved a bundle taking Moore to Rome, New York and London, Ontario instead of the other places by those names

There is a Paris, Ontario too. Been there. It rivals the Arkansas version for excitement, but has a park with a baseball diamond in it.

 

[Jollyrei]

Why couldn't the Americans dream up their own names for places?

I bet they don't have anywhere called 'Great Snoring'!

Likely not, but the good people in Newfoundland have a town called Dildo. This is apparently not an accident.

 

[Naraku]

True!

You can leave your hat on!


The English were offered one too, but they declined it.

But gradually, the British became jealous on the French' obelisk, and in 1877, they decided to get their own and erect it in London. It is named 'Cleopatra's Needle'.

It was transported from Alexandria by a cylinder shaped vessel (something ressembling a submarine). But in the Bay of Biscay, the tow broke in a storm. The vessel with its ancient cargo was thought lost and sunk, but it had remained afloat and was finally salvaged by another ship. It is said the captain of that ship first considered to have the needle sold for breaking it up for gravel for tennis courts. Finally, after negociating a salvage claim, the needle was brought to London.
View attachment 647555

There is also a Cleopatra's Needle in NYC in Central Park. Both of them predate Cleopatra by about a thousand years.

It was also a gift from the Khedive of Egypt.
There ae only 8 obelisks left in Egypt. There are 13 in Italy including 8 in Rome and the Vatican. These weren't gifts, the Romans just took them. They also took one for Constantinople (Istanbul) and gave one to Herod the Great which he put in Ceasarea.

 

[LittleSiss]

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

There is also a Cleopatra's Needle in NYC in Central Park. Both of them predate Cleopatra by about a thousand years.
View attachment 647778
It was also a gift from the Khedive of Egypt.
There ae only 8 obelisks left in Egypt. There are 13 in Italy including 8 in Rome and the Vatican. These weren't gifts, the Romans just took them. They also took one for Constantinople (Istanbul) and gave one to Herod the Great which he put in Ceasarea.

The phrase, "To the victor belong the spoils" was originated in the United States and was first used in 1832 by Senator William Learned Marcy (1786-1857) of New York. However, it has been a practice since there was first a war. And the Romans were very good at it. They stole the whole Etruscan culture and technology and then burying the history so deep that we still can't read Etruscan writing.

 

[Jollyrei]

Hi Siss. Nice to see you.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Hi Siss. I'm from Philadelphia originally, now in SC.