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Kartomga Terror Pit

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I like it.
 
thehangingtree said:
I am sure that is Gunner's (even better endowed) cousin!!!
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Gunner's weighing up whether to invite you out to say that 'better endowed' bit to his face in a dark alley -
or to sue you for all you've got for making discriminatory allusions to his handicap.
Probably do both... :p :devil:
 
Barbaria1 said:
That enrages him. Perhaps I went a little bit too far?
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Of course you didn't, Barb. Not at all. When did you ever push your luck? You're quite right, he wouldn't dare! :mad:

Barbaria1 said:

He moves toward me menacingly, shouting, "You stupid little loudmouth cunt! Who da fuck you think you are?"
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Oh. :eek:

Shit.:eek:

Well, now you mention it, maybe just a teeny-weeny itsy bit too far.... :rolleyes:
 
Wragg134 said:
Of course you didn't, Barb. Not at all. When did you ever push your luck? You're quite right, he wouldn't dare! :mad:



Oh. :eek:

Shit.:eek:

Well, now you mention it, maybe just a teeny-weeny itsy bit too far.... :rolleyes:
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00028156.Little.Caprice.jpg Well, once in a while I do step over the line just a little bit, don't I? :rolleyes:
 
Barbaria1 said:
2. I decide that the situation calls for bold action, so I step forward to engage him directly: "Now just a minute, whoever you are! You have no grounds for arrest here. I am an American citizen with proper press credentials and I have most certainly committed no crime! So bug off and leave me be!"

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"Uppity Yankee bitch! I tell you keep quiet, I mean quiet! Seize her men!... and her fucking camera too!"

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"Oh no you don't! Don't you dare lay a hand on me! Call your thugs off NOW! Or I promise that you will have an international scene on your hands. The world is watching! Moreover, I have my rights. I demand to be taken to the American consulate IMMEDIATELY."

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That enrages him. Perhaps I went a little bit too far?

He moves toward me menacingly, shouting, "You stupid little loudmouth cunt! Who da fuck you think you are?"

I start to back away, frightened ... taking small cautious steps, I retreat until I suddenly feel the business end of an automatic weapon poke me in the back ...

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"Oh shit!" Now I have done it. Slowly I raise my hands as a show of surrender ... mumbling apprehensively, visions of my bullet-ridden body lying in the street flashing through my head, "Careful now, let's not get too excited here."

But there's no placating him now. "Seize her and get her up in the truck!" he barks at his men.

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Eager hands grab me before I can run. My arms are wrenched behind my back. My camera flies from my hands, landing on the dusty street.

"Let me go!" I yell, as I am overpowered, lifted off my feet and tossed unceremoniously into the back of his red pickup truck. My hands are swiftly cuffed over my head to a guard rail. He clambers aboard and takes up his position behind the cab.

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"Where are you taking me?" I cry, looking up at my cuffed wrists, and then over my shoulder at him.

"To get some answers," he replies curtly.

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The driver guns the engine and the truck roars off with a sudden lurch. As we speed away to God knows where, I crouch helplessly, try to maintain my balance, and begin to seriously worry about just how I am going to manage to talk my way out of this jam.
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Well, now you have gone and gotten yourself into some real trouble Barb. I think the s**t has hit the fan:doh:
I think I know where this is heading;)
Great images SkatingJesus:)
 
3. With hands cuffed to the bar over my head, I am helplessly bounced and tossed about in the rear of the battered red pickup truck as it careens through the streets of Kartomga City. People peer curiously from windows and doorways, while men run alongside jeering and hoping for a better look. A young good-looking white woman taken captive by the revolutionary authorities is noteworthy enough to draw a lot of attention. My captor stands tall and defiant behind the cab, striking a macho pose for the benefit of onlookers as we roar by.

Barbaria Africa31.jpg


The truck pulls up abruptly in front of a low concrete-block structure. Men with automatic weapons guard the entrance. My wrists are uncuffed and I am helped down to the ground, where I am ordered to "put my hands behind my head and keep them there" before being escorted inside.'

Barbaria Africa 32.jpg

We enter and they march me to the far end of the building. It looks like an abandoned factory, long since stripped of its tools and machinery. The place is gray and dank smelling ... stark and forbidding with its worn concrete floor and naked steel girders overhead. Our footsteps echo weirdly off walls and ceiling.

Waiting for me seated behind a table is a giant of a man. He looks up at me expectantly and murmurs, "Well, well ... What do we have here?"

"An American whore, General. Her name is Barbara Moore," replies my captor, tossing my passport and camera on the table, and adding, "she claims to be a photo journalist, but I think she's a CIA spy. Her story about being here to promote tourism makes no sense if you look at the photos on her camera!"

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The "General" examines my passport, squints at my camera roll, grunts with dissatisfaction, and eyes me suspiciously. "Is this true?" he demands, scowling and slamming his fist on the table. "Are you a spy?"

"No. I am who I say I am. This is a false arrest. In fact, it's outrageous! You need to release me immediately. To whom am I speaking? I wish to report my mistreatment here to the proper authorities!"

"I am Matthias Mobuto, Supreme Commander of the Provisional Guard of the revolutionary government of the Republic of Kartomga!" he thunders. "I am the highest authority here. Your wish is denied!"

"But I am an American citizen. I have rights!"

"Not here you don't! Captain, search Ms. Moore for weapons and documents!"

I stand stone-faced, hands clasped behind my head, as the captain's meaty hands rip open my shirt ...

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... and continue to stand still as he removes my jeans with the eager assistance of one of the guards ...

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... who goes out of his way to pinch my tight little ass cheeks ...

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... while the Captain looks down the front of my kinis and paws my bare breasts.

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"Nothing! She's clean" they report.

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Scraping back his chair and rising ponderously to his feet, the General growls, "Let's not play games. I want answers NOW! Captain! String our little smart-ass American friend up and beat them out of her if need be!"

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