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The Misadventures of Barbara Moore.

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Patrolman Leroy Gates strolled up the driver`s side door of the parked sedan and looked inside, liking what he saw, an attractive woman wearing an almost sheer blouse with just a half cup bra under it, which gave him a fine view of the upper part of her full breasts and he also took note of the expanse of thigh on display as her short black skirt was pulled up to reveal the tops of her hold up stockings. A perfect example of Prison Farm meat, he thought.
"Driving Licence."
Barb opened her purse and presented her licence. Gates gave it a cursory glance and called out to his partner, "Hey, Marylou we got ourselves a Chicago gal here." The policewoman exited the cruiser and strolled up to her partner, together they made an intimidating pair, Gates was six feet four and weighed two seventy, virtually all of it bone and muscle and "Marylou" whose identification tag indicated her name was Baker, was also a very large woman, standing at six feet and weighing in at two hundred pounds, again, most of it bone and muscle, and she it was who now took charge of proceedings.
"Out of the vehicle, Missy, and place your hands on the hood where I can see `em."
Barb slowly got out of the car, "What`s the problem, officers,"
"The problem is you were doing forty in a twenty zone, and we don`t take kindly to Yankee lawbreakers."
"But that`s not fair." Barb protested.
"And neither is this." said Gates as he smacked her tail light with his night stick.
"Oh dear." said Baker, "two violations now. I think it`s time I searched the slut in case she`s armed and dangerous."
They both laughed at their feeble joke, but Baker barked, "Right, girly, stretch right out, tits on the trunk and legs spread wide."

"You can`t do that", the affronted victim protested, "Oh yes, I can." replied Baker as she easily manhandled the much smaller woman into position over the hood and kicked her legs widely apart. "What`s more, if I hear another peep out of you I`ll beat that cute little ass till it`s black and blue, got it."
"Let`s get to work"
With this, Baker pulled Barb`s blouse high over her head and deftly removed the half cup bra, causing Barb to gasp as her bare breasts came into contact with the hot metal of the car hood, before handing the brassiere to Gates. "Another one for your collection, Leroy."
Baker`s large hands then reached under and mauled and fondled Barb`s breasts, ostensibly to search her, but really to gratify Baker`s sadism and add to Moore`s humiliation.
Next, Baker hiked Barb`s skirt high up over her bare back and grinned at the the sight of her victim`s virtually bare buttocks, framed just by the miniscule thong and the lacy tops of the hold up stockings. "Legs together girly," she ordered, and when Barb failed to comply, delivered a heavy slap with her meaty right hand to the exposed buttock flesh. Barb squealed and brought her legs together which allowed Baker to pull the thong down to Barb`s ankles, "Step out of them, now" and when she was slow to obey, a further two stinging blows were delivered to the bare buttocks before Barb did as she was told and Baker handed the retrieved thong to Gates. "They`re saturated, Leroy, I think the little slut`s enjoying this."
"Now, spread those legs again cupcake, wider, wider, WIDER" Baker reinforcing each "wider" with yet another brutal slap to Barb`s bare buttocks and although Barb remained silent her eyes welled with tears.
Baker now donned a pair of rubber gloves and with an evil grin parted Barb`s glistening labia and thrust two fingers into the sopping vagina, she knew she would find nothing, but wasn`t going to miss the chance to further humiliate this slut and when she thrust a finger into the exposed anus, Barb cracked and threw an arm back in protest.
"Oh dear, assaulting a police officer carrying out her lawful duty, things aren`t looking good for you precious." she smirked.
"Right, Leroy, she`s done" she said as she extracted her finger from the exposed anus, "Let`s get her back to the Station and complete the paper work in time for this afternoon`s Court session."
With that she pulled Barb`s skirt and blouse back into place and cuffed her wrists behind her back.

TBC.
 
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Within fifty minutes, Barb found herself in a holding cell under Hicksville`s Civic Building, which housed both the main Police Station and the County Court, with four more female companions who ranged in age from twenty to fifty and were a pretty motley crew, all sporting tattoos and/or piercings.
Her processing by the Sheriff in charge had been brief and to the point,
"What`s the score, Marylou?"
"This stuck up bitch from Chicago broke the speed limit, was running with a broken tail light and assaulted me when I was carrying out a legal search for deadly weapons and hidden contraband"
"Find anything, Marylou?"
"No sir, unless you count a dripping snatch."
"So, three counts then, His Honour will love that."
Barb was left in the holding cell with the other four women, very much aware of the fact that now she had no bra under her very sheer blouse. They were staring at her tumescent nipples and every movement of her unsupported breasts, with the muscular looking, pierced and tattooed fifty year old having a particularly knowing and lustful gaze on her leering face.
At three o clock, the five female prisoners were taken upstairs into the main Court Room which was only sparsely occupied by a few old men and a youngish woman who was obviously the Court Reporter. The Bailiff then announced "Hicks County Court is now in Session, the Honourable Judge T.H. Tree, presiding." Aside door opened and a cadaverous looking man in a black robe and wearing a battered straw hat on his head entered, pushing a fifth bottle of Seagram`s Whiskey into his right hand trouser pocket as he did so.
"What have we got this afternoon, Elmer?
"Four straight forward cases, your Honour, and one a bit more serious."
"We`ll deal with the straight forward stuff first. Bring those four sad asses in front of my bench."
Barb`s four companions were paraded in front of Judge Tree and charges of drunkenness, vagrancy and prostitution were read out to which they all pleaded "Guilty"
"Right you all will serve thirty days hard labour at the Hicks County Women`s Prison Farm. Next case." and he took a long swig from his bottle of Seagram`s.
The Bailiff proclaimed that the final case was the State versus Barbara Anne Moore who was charged with three counts, One, Exceeding the speed limit,
Two, driving with a broken tail light and Three, Assaulting a Police Officer carrying out a legal search.
"How do you plead, Moore?
"Not Guilty your Honour"
"Not Guilty, are you stupid girl? I have sworn testimony from Officer Baker, here, which confirms your guilt, So I`m not wasting any more time. You will serve thirty days hard labour at the Hicks County Women`s Prison Farm for each offence, and by my reckoning that makes ninety days."
"But I wasn`t speeding and the policeman broke my tail light with his night stick, it`s not fair."
"I`ll give you fair, you impudent slut, make that another thirty days for contempt of Court. I`ve a mind to give you twenty with the strap but you`ll get plenty of that where you are going," "Take her away."
Before the crestfallen Barb could reply, she was whisked away to the Police yard where she was shackled wrist and ankles like the other four prisoners and the five of them joined together in a sad little coffle ready for the mile long march to the Prison Farm, To Barb`s dismay she found that her nemesis Marylou Baker was in charge of proceedings and was carrying a vicious looking strap in her right hand.
Officer Baker had a simple procedure for the journey, she ordered the prisoners to "Double March" for a hundred yards or so and then "Double Mark Time" for a few moments while she caught up with them.
Barb found this taxing, despite her overall fitness, but the constant jiggling of her braless breasts meant that her nipples were kept constantly erect by the chafing of her blouse, and that long before they reached their destination, she was dripping with perspiration.
Strangely, it seemed a relief when they reached the Prison Farm which was surrounded by a high razor wire fence and had a large gate which bore the inscription, "Hicks County Prison Farm For Women" and beneath in large letters, "Joan Tree, Warden."

TBC.
 
OMG! Tree as judge. A trumped up traffic offense. 120 days hard labor at the Hicks County Prison Farm for Women, run by none other than Joan Tree! What else could possibly go wrong for this sweet innocent blue state girl from Chicago???

Again, this developing horror story should have its own thread!
 
Marylou Baker approached the Prison gate, pressed a button and spoke into the intercom, after a few seconds the gate opened electronically.
"Right, you pathetic pieces of shit, you`ve reached your new home. Get inside. Move it, get the lead out of your asses. You`ll soon find out this isn`t a holiday camp."
The tired sweat soaked coffle shuffled its way into the Prison onto a long road which led up to what was obviously the administrative building.
"Double march" snapped Marylou, and in the now familiar way the unfortunate women made their way forward along the four hundred yard road, with Baker taking the opportunity to place a couple of hard lashes with her strap across Barb`s thinly covered backside on the way.
Despite the pain from the strap, Barb couldn`t help noticing small groups of women digging, hoeing and planting crops in the adjoining fields, and what was more frightening was that they were being driven to even greater efforts by the strap wielding guards.
Soon however, they reached the square in front of the administrative building and on taking stock of her surroundings Barb thought the set up looked like a parody of some exploitation movie set. In the forefront there was a stout railway sleeper sunk into the sun baked earth with two shackles mounted about six feet high, obviously a whipping post, and what was clearly some sort of punishment frame along side it,
Her reverie was interrupted as Baker snapped the command "Attention" as a tall powerfully built blonde in an immaculate uniform and highly polished jack boots emerged from the building followed by several subordinates.
"What have you brought me , Marylou?"
"Five more students for you little academy, Gretchen, you`ll recognise a couple of them but there are three newbies. The brunette, Moore`s a Chicago gal and has got a mouth on her, but she was dripping when I searched her and I`ll swear she enjoyed it when I smacked her ass. You`ll have fun with her."
"Get them unshackled Marylou, we`ll take it from here."
The manacles were quickly removed from the prisoners wrists and ankles and in the meantime, two of the guards produced five plastic baskets and placed one in front of each of the five.
The tall blonde announced "I am Captain Gretchen Kramer, in charge of the guards, and here at Hicks, my word is law and I answer only to Warden Tree.
Now ladies, strip off every stitch and place everything including watches and such like the basket in front of you then stand astride your basket with your fingers laced behind you heads. Got it? Well jump to it."
Barb knew it was futile to resist and quickly removed her shoes and hold ups followed by her sweat soaked blouse and skirt. She had purposely left her watch and jewels at home when taking this assignment, so she was one of the first to be naked and take up the the humiliatingly submissive pose self consciously aware that her nipples were already at attention and her clitoris was erect and poking from her slick labia.

TBC.
 
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Captain Gretchen Kramer was a fourth generation American of German origin, whose family had become successful despite having murky antecedents. In fact, her great grandparents had both been guards at Ravensbruck Concentration camp where they had been notorious for the cruelties they inflicted on the unfortunate women imprisoned there, but had managed to escape via Argentina before becoming US citizens.
Gretchen had studied some of the papers her great grand parents had left behind, and it was no coincidence that the Prison Farm was organised on Nazi lines, a very efficient and economic system which she had convinced Joan Tree to adopt as well as putting Gretchen in control.
The Prison was based on the barrack system, twenty or thirty women in each barrack with a barrack leader selected from among the prisoners given day to day control reporting to a designated staff member who in turn reported to Gretchen. This system had the benefits of reducing the number of permanent staff required and combined with a draconian disciplinary system proved to be very successful.
On a personal note Gretchen was an imposing physical specimen, a tall ,powerful typical example of Germanic womanhood with bisexual tastes although her position at Hicks gave her ample opportunity to exercise her preference for hurting and dominating young attractive women.
Now Gretchen looked at the five naked women displaying themselves for her approval, at one end there was the recidivist, Molly Smith, the tattooed and pierced specimen whose sadism had made her such an efficient block leader during her last incarceration. She would come in useful again, and while the three women in the middle of the line were of little interest, the brunette at the other end of the line certainly was. Gretchen stood in front of Barb and looked her up and down noting the toned, shapely body and the signs of arousal, and without warning, she clamped each of Barb`s nipples between a steely thumb and forefinger, Barb immediately lowered her arms and placed her hands gently on Gretchen`s wrists in token protest.
"Hands back on your head, girl." and before Barb could comply, she twisted the swollen tender nubs upwards and outwards, causing Barb to rise up on tiptoes and emit a pitiful mewling sound After a few seconds, Gretchen released her grip, leaving Barb, with tears trickling down her cheeks, to replace her hands, she had learned enough. Although she did inspect the reporter`s curvy buttocks which were beginning to show signs of the bruising caused by Marylou`s hard and heavy hand. Marylou was right, she would certainly have fun with this one, the only problem would be Warden Tree, who would no doubt want the woman herself.
"Sergeant, take these miserable specimens to Reception, get them booked in, then onto the Bath House for cleansing and issue their uniforms."
"Yes . ma`am, You lot pick up your baskets and follow me."
The five naked women followed the sergeant into Reception, where she noted their details and relieved them of their meagre belongings.
"Now to the Hydrotherapy Room ." she cackled and led them into a large tiled room fitted with a number of gang showers, but of more concern to Barb was the ancient Gyno chair and the two other sergeants with shaving brushes and bowls of soapy water who were waiting there.
"The Warden insists on bald pussies, she`s a stickler for cleanliness and thinks a bare pussy good for a prisoner`s soul. You`re first Moore, climb up, don`t be shy."
Barb thought about protesting, but after seeing the steely look in the sergeant`s eyes and the movement to unhook the cruel looking switch hanging from her belt, decided discretion was the better part of valour.
"Good girl. you don`t want to be on report on you first day."
Once in the chair, Barb`s public mound and perineum were lathered with soapy water and she was shaved completely, losing her small landing strip and whatever stubble had grown on her slit, again, to her shame, she was embarrassed by her obvious arousal, and lost in her reverie, needed a sharp slap on the thigh to get her out of the chair. Her four companions were all treated to the same procedure until the sergeant was satisfied with the five bald mounds.
"Right, ladies, clean up time."
She handed each prisoner a green bar of strong carbolic soap and turned on the water supply which flowed from the six shower heads at the back of the room.
"Listen up, I want those cunts and assholes squeaky clean and pay particular attention to under your tits. If we have to do it for you we`ll use scrubbing brushes, so get to it."

TBC
 
Barb shivered under the cold water cascading down from the shower and found it difficult to get the antiseptic soap to lather.
"Sergeant, why is there no hot water?
"Because this a prison you dumb bitch and you are not here to be pampered. You just make sure that sloppy snatch is clean when I inspect it or I`ll scrub it with a wire brush."
After a few minutes, the water was turned off and the prisoners each given a small threadbare towel which made it very difficult to thoroughly dry themselves, but when they all seemed to be dry, the Sergeant ordered them to line up again and proceeded to carry out a cursory inspection of each one, until it was Barb`s turn, then she took hold of her right nipple and lifted the breast as high as it would go and repeated the process with the left breast, causing Barb to whimper in pain.
"Mmmmm, Clean under there. Now, Moore, spread those legs and grab your ankles."
Barb obeyed, and the Sergeant then ran her fingers along the exposed and damp labia.
"You`re lucky Moore, we`ve got to get you into uniform before the Captain and the Warden come to interview you, otherwise I`d scrub that disgusting cunt raw."

The issuing of uniforms was a straightforward affair, each prisoner was tossed an old thin, grey cotton dress which had been laundered countless times, with no consideration as to whether or not it fitted. Barb found hers was quite a tight fit across the bust and her braless nipples were apparent whilst it was short in length, reaching only to mid thigh, even worse, on the back were stencilled the words "Prisoner" and "Hicks County".
"What about underwear Sergeant?
"Underwear, Underwear, prisoners don`t get underwear, Moore. It helps you know your place in the scheme of things and makes it so much easier when we need to whup your sorry asses."
The shoe issue was a little more refined, but only just, each prisoner was asked her shoe size and then allowed to choose the best fit from two or three pairs of well worn Mary Janes.
The process had just finished when Captain Kramer returned accompanied by Warden Tree, another striking well preserved blonde with piecing steel blue eyes which exuded menace and potential cruelty.
"Prisoners. Attention." snapped the Sergeant
Warden Tree cast an icy gaze over the five unfortunate women standing before her and then began her standard intake speech.
"You women have been sent here because you have committed crimes for which society demands retribution, and we insure that you make that retribution with hard and productive labour, and in order to provide some form of rehabilitation we have a strict disciplinary code.
As far as the labour is concerned, you will each be allocated to one of the three barracks, and will work as a group under the barrack leader, one of your number responsible to the Barrack Sergeant and chosen by Captain Kramer. your hours of work will be from sunrise to sunset seven days a week in a healthy outdoor environment.
With regards to discipline, you obey all orders instantly and without question, you address your Barrack leader as "Miss" the Sergeants as "Sergeant" and Captain Kramer and myself as "Ma`am"
Be aware that any breaches of discipline, whether for failure to obey instantly, shortcomings in etiquette or work performance, are likely to be rewarded with corporal punishment, which may be applied instantly by any of your superiors. For serious offences more formal punishments such as public floggings or time in the hot box will be awarded by Captain Kramer or myself. Over to you Captain Kramer."

"I think it is time that we gave you a little demonstration of what you can expect. Step forward Moore."


TBC.
 
With mounting trepidation, Barb took two paces forward, her mind was racing. Why had she allowed Sharp to talk her into this assignment? Was it a cunning ploy to get her out of the way while he established himself as managing editor? Was he aware of her innate masochism? Did he suspect that she was easily aroused by her fixation with pain and humiliation?
Her thoughts were interrupted by Captain Kramer, "The first implement you will certainly become acquainted with, we call `the starter`, it is two feet long and comprises of four lengths of plaited cow hide. It is carried by our Sergeants and Barrack leaders who may use it at their discretion, Sergeant Brown would you care to demonstrate?"
"Certainly, Ma`am. Moore, spread your legs and touch your toes."
Barb reluctantly obeyed, only too aware that her short, thin dress had ridden up to the base of her buttocks, but worse was to follow, the sergeant gripped the hem of the skirt and turned it over the bare back, finally bunching it under Barb`s armpits.
"Now, Moore, don`t let those fingers leave your toes under any circumstances."
With that, she stepped back, raised the starter and then lashed the bare buttocks with all her force. The effect was electrifying, her victim let out an horrendous shriek, straightened up and danced from toe to toe clutching her tortured flesh.
"Pathetic, Moore. You were warned. Back in position now, this could go on all night if you don`t get a grip"
A dispirited Barb resumed her humiliating posture, and the sergeant again folded back the dress to reveal a fiery welt across the fullest part of her bent ass. The remaining prisoners, who had been sniggering at the undignified performance of their colleague, grew silent as they observed the effect of the starter.
"Once again, Moore, keep those fingers in place." was the order before the sergeant again mercilessly lashed the exposed nates.
This time, after summoning every last ounce of resolution, Barb held her position, but in addition to the fiery pain in her backside she was only too aware of the copious tears running down her cheeks and dripping onto the backs of her hands.

"Stay down, Moore, we`re not done with you yet" said Captain Kramer.
"Now, ladies, for serious breaches of discipline you will be punished before your assembled fellow prisoners in the square with one or both of the following implements. The first is our famous Prison Strap, a double length of toughened cowhide glued and stitched together and kept supple with saddle soap, it is believed to have first seen light of day in the Arkansas Women`s reformatory in 1925, so is no stranger to female flesh, the blade is thirty inches long and four inches wide and it hurts like hell, as Moore will soon confirm.
The second is our penal grade cane, a forty two inches long half inch diameter length of seasoned Rattan grown in the Malacca Straits and regarded in some far Eastern countries as the ultimate deterrent for the most hardened of male criminals, it is capable of inflicting extreme agony.
We are traditionalists here, so leather is applied in multiples of five and rattan in multiples of six. Don`t worry , Moore, you will only get one of each on this occasion, but tradition demands you receive them naked, so get out of that uniform at the double. As you would normally be strapped to the punishment frame or the whipping post for this type of punishment, you can bend over the table."

With this, Captain Kramer picked up the heavy strap and the cane which she handed to the Warden. In the meantime, realising the hopelessness of her
situation, Barb crossed her arms, gripped the hem of her dress and pulled it up and off. The sergeant pushed the table into place and ordered,
"Bend over the table, Moore ,feet outside the back legs and grip the front legs as if your life depended on it."

With no other option Barb slowly complied, only too conscious of her vulnerability.
Captain Kramer made her way to stand behind the naked Barb and viewed the cruelly marked flesh. The two welts left by the sergeant`s starter were exactly four inches apart on the crown of the buttocks and determined the Captain`s target.
"By the way, Moore, you would normally be restrained so there will be no penalty for any reaction."

The Captain then wound her arm back and brought the strap down with brutal force, filling in the gap between the existing welts with an angry red band of pain which caused Barb to scream, rise up on her toes and try to massage the fiery pain from her butt.

"Hurts, doesn`t it , Moore, still we haven`t got time to waste. Back into position, now."

As the weeping, disconsolate Barb bent again over the table, Joan Tree moved behind her, flexing the dreadful cane with her powerful hands and voraciously eyeing the tortured band of angry red flesh left by the strap.
She raised the cane high above her shoulder, half turned and then drove the rod into the centre of the band of agony. Barb emitted a heart rending cry before sinking back onto the table weeping uncontrollably, neither knowing or caring that her well marked bottom was causing so much concern to her fellow prisoners.

"There you have it ladies, can you imagine what twenty with the strap or eighteen with the cane would feel like? Doesn`t bear thinking about does it? So make sure you behave yourselves. Sergeant, get these sorry specimens to their Barrack. "

"All except Moore, Sergeant. Have her brought to my quarters." said Joan Tree.

TBC.
 
Captain Gretchen Kramer, although outwardly calm, was seething, she was not going to have first use of the prisoner Moore, which was galling, if inevitable, after all, the entire system at the Prison Farm was hierarchical, largely of her own designing, and Joan Tree was at the apex of that system. She reconciled herself with the thought that the Sergeants were probably thinking the same about her, and the Barrack Leaders the same about the Sergeants.
The women who ended up at Hicks were usually ill educated, lower class dropouts covered in tattoos and piercings, with eating disorders and drug or alcohol addictions, so on the rare occasions when they got their hands on a beautiful, smart, well educated woman like Moore, it would be so enjoyable to put her through her paces before Joan Tree had broken her spirit.
She glanced at Moore, who was walking stiffly alongside her towards the Warden`s quarters, the tight thin skirt must be chafing the welts on her shapely ass. If she thought her treatment had been harsh, well was she in for rude awakening. As they approached the front door, Gretchen thought that there was no harm in trying a little damage control.
"Look, Moore, the Warden is a hard, cruel woman who demands total submission, and if you know what`s good for you, you won`t resist her and dance on her every word."
Actually, this wasn`t strictly true, Joan liked her victims to put up a strong resistance so she could exercise her full range of cruelties before tossing the unfortunate girl back into the system..
Gretchen rang the bell when they reached their destination, and the Warden came to the door, impressive as ever, with her blonde hair pulled back off her face and piled in a bun on top of her head, she was dressed in a white silk blouse and white chinos, but it was the ice cold blue eyes that caused a trembling Barbara the most concern, she still bore the memory of that ferocious cane stroke across her poor bottom.

"Thank you, Gretchen, bring the little slut in and let me have a good look at her."
"Good, that will be all, I`ll see you tomorrow."

Gretchen, realising she had been dismissed said goodnight and beat a strategic retreat.

"So, Moore, our little Chicago reporter, yes I know what you are, you made the mistake of under estimating us, thinking we are ignorant red necks down here, well, that mistake could have serious consequences for you. Were you and that idiot Sharp so stupid that you thought I wouldn`t do some serious checking when a smart educated gal like you turned up in Hicksville?"

"The question is what do we do with you now? Well, first you can strip, I want to see what you`ve got."

Barb`s face was ashen, she was completely shaken by this turn of events, now here she was, a long way from home and completely at the mercy of this blonde sadist and her subordinates, and for once speechless.

"I said strip, if you`re not naked in ten seconds I`ll take the rest of the skin off your ass."

Barb had no choice, she quickly removed the thin prison dress and shoes and then covered her pubes with one hand and drew the other arm across her bosom.

"Are you shitting me girl? Legs three feet apart, fingers laced behind your head and pull those elbows right back."

Once Barb had adopted this submissive pose, Joan began her inspection She cupped Barb`s chin with one hand and examined the normally lovely face which was still blotchy and tearstained from the earlier ordeal. Apparently satisfied, she then handled each breast in turn, weighing it as if she were inspecting produce at a market stall. "Nice tits, Moore." Her hands then moved lower and she ran her fingers along the damp labia and tweaked the erect clitoris with her thumb. "As I suspected, you are enjoying this, you randy little slut."
She then moved behind her victim to inspect the tight round little buttocks, only marred by the angry purple four inch band across their crown, in the centre of which was the distinctive twin tracked cane wheal from which tiny beads of blood were oozing. With a wolfish grin on her face, she gripped the tortured flesh with both hands and squeezed as hard as she could. The effect on Barb was dramatic her toes curled and she let out a distressing cry of pain.

Joan then moved over to an armchair, slipped off her chinos and thong and spread her legs wide revealing her blonde fleece.
"Down here on your knees, Moore, let`s see if that tongue is good for something other than mouthing off."

TBC.
 
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