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Plantation Plight By Barbaria And Windar
- Thread starter windar
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windar
Teller of Tales
For Pete's sake Barb, they're black and white pictures.
If Barb has them altered to look like her, then I want the guards altered to look like me. What do I look like you ask? I've been told I'm Brad Pitt's twin, so there's a good place to start. Only I'm more muscular...
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...and monkeys might fly from my butt...
Are you doing a manip of that, Madiosi?...and monkeys might fly from my butt...
windar
Teller of Tales
13. Sheriff John Miller
I got the bulletin a couple of days ago about the two escaped slaves, a mother and daughter, Pat and Barbara Moore. They had gone missing from a plantation in the next county and might be making their way through our territory to the forest sanctuary of escaped slaves and other ne’er-do-wells. Not unusual at all. What was unusual, at least to me, was the plantation they had escaped from, which was the one owned by my son-in-law, Charles, who had married my daughter Sarah. I loved Sarah, but I had to admit she could be a bitch at times and I wondered whether her mistreatment had caused these two to escape.
But, mistreatment or no, slaves had no right to escape. I didn’t make the rules in this world, but those rules are clear-the role of a slave is to bear what their master chooses to impose on them. And my role, as representative of the law, such as it is, is to catch those who abscond, whomever they might belong to. So, I told my men to be on the lookout for these two. We didn’t have the resources to look in every one of the many possible hiding places in our county, to be sure, but I figured at some point, they would need food or other supplies and be forced out of hiding.
Sure enough, one of the local farmers had nabbed a young woman early that morning, probably the daughter, inside his hen house, trying to steal eggs and perhaps some chickens as well. I sent my deputies to bring her in. When they dragged her in, kicking and screaming, the first thing I noticed was how much she looked like Sarah. They could easily have passed for sisters.
She was struggling uselessly against my deputies, who are both well-muscled, shouting, “Let me go! You’re hurting my arm!”
“If you stop struggling, they will let you go. I have some questions for you and if you co-operate I’m sure we can straighten this out.” The deputies relaxed their hold on her, but stayed by her side, ready to act if she renewed her resistance. “What is your name girl?”
“Karen Parker, sir” she responded. “I’m just passing through this area on my way from Riverton to visit my aunt in Chester.”
“I see,” I replied. “And what were you doing in that henhouse?”
“I was on the road last night and it was getting dark, so I went in there to sleep. I meant no harm, sir. Really. May I go now?”
“That’s an interesting story young lady. Perhaps, I should send someone to Chester to find your ‘aunt’. But it’s also interesting that you resemble the description of a slave who escaped from a plantation in the next county, Barbara Moore. You wouldn’t happen to know her by any chance?”
“No, sir, neither that name nor such a person is familiar to me.”
I read her the bulletin with the description of her and her mother. “Does not the daughter sound like you?”
“There are many young girls who could meet that description, sir. I am a free woman, daughter of a merchant in Riverton, and my parents are both recently deceased in the sickness that came through. I am going to live with my aunt.”
“That’s a wonderful story, girl. Unfortunately, I don’t believe it. I think you are Barbara Moore, escaped slave, and your mother, Pat, is hiding somewhere nearby. My duty is to return you and her to your rightful owners, Charles and Sarah, the latter of whom happens to be my daughter.”
“No!” she screamed. “That isn’t true! I swear it.”
“Well, my men will get the truth out of you, one way or the other. They are quite good at that, I can assure you. Take her to the barn, I ordered.” The deputies grabbed her and, despite her struggles, easily maneuvered her out the door and dragged her into the barn, as I followed behind.
“Now girl, we must see if you are hiding anything under your clothes. Strip!”
“But, sir I can’t expose my naked body to these men. Do you not have a woman who can examine me?”
“These are trained men, who have seen plenty in the line of duty. Now, I am getting tired of your lies and disobedience. Either you get those clothes off, or they will help you out of them. Now!” I shouted the last word.
She blanched in terror, realizing now what a serious situation she was in. Finally, the resistance went out of her eyes. She slowly unbuttoned her blouse. Once it was open in the front, she shucked it off, letting it fall to the hay-covered dirt floor. She wore no bra, so her breasts were exposed for a moment, before she raised her hands to cover them. They looked quite lovely indeed, but I needed to be sure.
“Hands by your sides,” I commanded. Reluctantly, she complied. Her breasts were indeed magnificent, though I could see some faint lines on them when I peered closely. Intrigued, I walked behind her. Much of her back was also lined, these more distinct than the ones on her front. There was little doubt she had been whipped, perhaps a week or so ago. I wondered what had been going on at Sarah and Charles’ plantation.
“I have eyes, girl. You have been whipped and rather severely I should say. I am now confident you are a slave.”
“No sir, that was my parents, sir, before they got sick. I was with a boy that they did not like and they punished me, as I deserved, sir.”
I walked back to face her. “I am tired of listening to your lies. Now get the rest of those clothes off, right now.” She unbuttoned her skirt and let it fall to the ground. Then, looking very scared, she grasped the waistband of her panties and lowered them as well. This time she didn’t even bother to try to cover the exposed private areas. “The shoes too,” I said. I had noticed that they looked rather thrown together and not a perfect fit. She slipped them off and was completely naked.
I walked behind her again. The lines covered her ass and thighs, as well as her back. “Alright boys, let’s string her up. She’ll admit who she is soon enough and tell us where her mother is hiding.” One of the deputies went to a table next to one of the walls of the barn and came back with a set of leather manacles, which he buckled around the girl’s wrists. Then, they moved her to stand underneath one of the sturdy roof beams of the barn, across which a long rope, about an inch thick had been passed. They tied the manacles securely to one end of the rope, then grasped the other end and began pulling.
Slowly, they raised the girl’s arms over her head. Once they were at full extension, however, the deputies didn’t stop. Rather they kept pulling until she was raised on her toes and continued until her feet were raised off the ground, her toes stretching to keep contact with the ground, but to no avail. Finally, when her feet were about three inches above the ground, they stopped pulling and one of them went to wrap the rope around a cleat attached to one of the vertical beams.
“Well, girl, it’s lunchtime and all this work has made the boys and me hungry. We’ll let you hang there and think about whether you want to be smart and tell us the truth or whether you want to be stubborn. We’ll see you in a while.” Then we left to enjoy a leisurely lunch at the tavern just down the road.
I got the bulletin a couple of days ago about the two escaped slaves, a mother and daughter, Pat and Barbara Moore. They had gone missing from a plantation in the next county and might be making their way through our territory to the forest sanctuary of escaped slaves and other ne’er-do-wells. Not unusual at all. What was unusual, at least to me, was the plantation they had escaped from, which was the one owned by my son-in-law, Charles, who had married my daughter Sarah. I loved Sarah, but I had to admit she could be a bitch at times and I wondered whether her mistreatment had caused these two to escape.
But, mistreatment or no, slaves had no right to escape. I didn’t make the rules in this world, but those rules are clear-the role of a slave is to bear what their master chooses to impose on them. And my role, as representative of the law, such as it is, is to catch those who abscond, whomever they might belong to. So, I told my men to be on the lookout for these two. We didn’t have the resources to look in every one of the many possible hiding places in our county, to be sure, but I figured at some point, they would need food or other supplies and be forced out of hiding.
Sure enough, one of the local farmers had nabbed a young woman early that morning, probably the daughter, inside his hen house, trying to steal eggs and perhaps some chickens as well. I sent my deputies to bring her in. When they dragged her in, kicking and screaming, the first thing I noticed was how much she looked like Sarah. They could easily have passed for sisters.
She was struggling uselessly against my deputies, who are both well-muscled, shouting, “Let me go! You’re hurting my arm!”
“If you stop struggling, they will let you go. I have some questions for you and if you co-operate I’m sure we can straighten this out.” The deputies relaxed their hold on her, but stayed by her side, ready to act if she renewed her resistance. “What is your name girl?”
“Karen Parker, sir” she responded. “I’m just passing through this area on my way from Riverton to visit my aunt in Chester.”
“I see,” I replied. “And what were you doing in that henhouse?”
“I was on the road last night and it was getting dark, so I went in there to sleep. I meant no harm, sir. Really. May I go now?”
“That’s an interesting story young lady. Perhaps, I should send someone to Chester to find your ‘aunt’. But it’s also interesting that you resemble the description of a slave who escaped from a plantation in the next county, Barbara Moore. You wouldn’t happen to know her by any chance?”
“No, sir, neither that name nor such a person is familiar to me.”
I read her the bulletin with the description of her and her mother. “Does not the daughter sound like you?”
“There are many young girls who could meet that description, sir. I am a free woman, daughter of a merchant in Riverton, and my parents are both recently deceased in the sickness that came through. I am going to live with my aunt.”
“That’s a wonderful story, girl. Unfortunately, I don’t believe it. I think you are Barbara Moore, escaped slave, and your mother, Pat, is hiding somewhere nearby. My duty is to return you and her to your rightful owners, Charles and Sarah, the latter of whom happens to be my daughter.”
“No!” she screamed. “That isn’t true! I swear it.”
“Well, my men will get the truth out of you, one way or the other. They are quite good at that, I can assure you. Take her to the barn, I ordered.” The deputies grabbed her and, despite her struggles, easily maneuvered her out the door and dragged her into the barn, as I followed behind.
“Now girl, we must see if you are hiding anything under your clothes. Strip!”
“But, sir I can’t expose my naked body to these men. Do you not have a woman who can examine me?”
“These are trained men, who have seen plenty in the line of duty. Now, I am getting tired of your lies and disobedience. Either you get those clothes off, or they will help you out of them. Now!” I shouted the last word.
She blanched in terror, realizing now what a serious situation she was in. Finally, the resistance went out of her eyes. She slowly unbuttoned her blouse. Once it was open in the front, she shucked it off, letting it fall to the hay-covered dirt floor. She wore no bra, so her breasts were exposed for a moment, before she raised her hands to cover them. They looked quite lovely indeed, but I needed to be sure.
“Hands by your sides,” I commanded. Reluctantly, she complied. Her breasts were indeed magnificent, though I could see some faint lines on them when I peered closely. Intrigued, I walked behind her. Much of her back was also lined, these more distinct than the ones on her front. There was little doubt she had been whipped, perhaps a week or so ago. I wondered what had been going on at Sarah and Charles’ plantation.
“I have eyes, girl. You have been whipped and rather severely I should say. I am now confident you are a slave.”
“No sir, that was my parents, sir, before they got sick. I was with a boy that they did not like and they punished me, as I deserved, sir.”
I walked back to face her. “I am tired of listening to your lies. Now get the rest of those clothes off, right now.” She unbuttoned her skirt and let it fall to the ground. Then, looking very scared, she grasped the waistband of her panties and lowered them as well. This time she didn’t even bother to try to cover the exposed private areas. “The shoes too,” I said. I had noticed that they looked rather thrown together and not a perfect fit. She slipped them off and was completely naked.
I walked behind her again. The lines covered her ass and thighs, as well as her back. “Alright boys, let’s string her up. She’ll admit who she is soon enough and tell us where her mother is hiding.” One of the deputies went to a table next to one of the walls of the barn and came back with a set of leather manacles, which he buckled around the girl’s wrists. Then, they moved her to stand underneath one of the sturdy roof beams of the barn, across which a long rope, about an inch thick had been passed. They tied the manacles securely to one end of the rope, then grasped the other end and began pulling.
Slowly, they raised the girl’s arms over her head. Once they were at full extension, however, the deputies didn’t stop. Rather they kept pulling until she was raised on her toes and continued until her feet were raised off the ground, her toes stretching to keep contact with the ground, but to no avail. Finally, when her feet were about three inches above the ground, they stopped pulling and one of them went to wrap the rope around a cleat attached to one of the vertical beams.
“Well, girl, it’s lunchtime and all this work has made the boys and me hungry. We’ll let you hang there and think about whether you want to be smart and tell us the truth or whether you want to be stubborn. We’ll see you in a while.” Then we left to enjoy a leisurely lunch at the tavern just down the road.
windar
Teller of Tales
Rest assured that Barb will fill you in tomorrow on how she got into this most unfortunate predicament. It has already been noted that escape is NOT her forte. Pat isn't great at it either, so it might be genetic.
Ted Parry
Governor
Damn, you would think after all her experiences on here she would have learned something ..... there again if you leave her pics blonde that might explain it .......
andy01
Magistrate
A competent officer.
Geeze, give a girl a break, why don't you? 
And, btw, dumb blonde jokes are verboten here. 
Appears to be, but what about his deputies? 
windar
Teller of Tales
Since when? I've already put one in a story, about Dorothy, if I recall. Do I get a demerit?
In fairness to Barb, throughout ages the deck is stacked against runaway slaves...
Tree
Tree
windar
Teller of Tales
That is really a GOOD one!
Everything was going so well. I was serving tea and crumpets to the hunting party just before they mounted up, and then suddenly Lord Wragg turned to me and said, "Oh blimey, it appears no one remembered to bring the fox to release! I know. We will just have one of the service staff play at being the fox. Barbara dear, please disrobe. Put your hands behind your back so they can be bound. Thank you. Perfect. Hurry on now. Go hide. We are going to give you a ten minute head start."
In addition to law enforcement hunting runaway slaves...
...there are the bounty hunters...
...That makes the odds of a successful escape very slight indeed!!!
...there are the bounty hunters...
...That makes the odds of a successful escape very slight indeed!!!
windar
Teller of Tales
Of course, none of that was necessary in Barb's case. She got caught in the hen house. Very appropriate.
Is that one demerit each???View attachment 418932 A fox pox on all three of you!!!