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Princess Laetitia And Palace Intrigue

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There is no help coming…

This will hardly be the first time I am whipped. My first year at the UVM I missed a perfect 4.0 GPA by one fucking tenth of a point! Then assistant dean Despard Wragg IV called me to his office where I was offered a deal. I could have my GPA raised to a perfect 4.0 if I agreed to be the entertainment for his uncle Chancellor Wragg’s faculty dinner (this was 14 years ago; Chancellor Wragg is now Chancellor Emeritus Despard Wragg) during dessert.

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I was hesitant but that 4.0 GPA drew me in like a moth to a light! The day arrived and I put on the dark tank dress they gave me to wear. It barely covered my breasts and tight little. I had to practice walking in the stiletto heels the sent me- they were a bit different from what I was used to walking in. The dress was a bit different from what I usually wear also…

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When the driver picked me up I have to admit my not yet 19 year old body made that little black dress look pretty damn sweet. I arrived at the Chancellor’s country estate and was promptly taken to the garden where I was bound in leather cuffs with my arms spread wide and just above my head! I protested that saying I was to be the entertainment for dessert. He assured me I would be most entertaining. For the next seven hours I stood in the garden with my wrists and ankles in cuffs. I agreed to it but was not happy…

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AS the guests gather around me enjoying cocktails some asshole in a Madras shirt (they must sell them still…his was not faded. I thought if I get out this I will have to check out Walmart) pulls the top of my dress down.

whip 189.gif

I didn’t know that ‘entertaining’ the chancellor’s guests entailed being whipped!

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Some bitch named Joan yelled “Do one tit at time! Don’t let that cunt pass out!”

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This is so different. Being flogged before faculty was both painful and the humiliation would last as long as I was at the UVM. But here at Little Brampton instead a few dozen faculty and their guests there are hundreds of people that want to see me flogged. As I am bound to the whipping post there are three women roasting on spits below me and three above me hang.

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This flogging is worse than I could imagine. The flogger looks the same but this one is laced with rough-formed iron ignots that rip my back and tight little with every stroke.

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When they are done with me I am locked in a wood yoke and am led back to the Cruxton Abbey.

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I try to decide if the pain and humiliation tops the arousal I feel!

-Barbara Moore

Tree
 
IMG_1442.JPG And it all began when I was 19. Everyone said I was too smart for my own good and too dumb to know when it was not a good idea to mouth off. :confused:

IMG_1443.GIF Thanks a lot Joan. He doesn't need any advice from you! Owwwww! And I am not sure that's what a Madras shirt actually looks like either! :rolleyes:

Cruxton Abbey here I come :D
 
So a week from today I will be hanged by the neck until dead. I am back at the abbey and a woman who identifies herself as Polly pours a potion on my hair explaining that though it looks lighter now but when I shower it will it will return to my natural color. I tell her I have not had a shower since my arrest. She bluntly tells me I have two left- tomorrow morning and Saturday before I am hanged.

Next she slathers my body with an elixir that while is room temperature (read hot) cools my tortured skin and I feel my nipples become tumescent! I ask “What is this stuff?”

“Some call it ‘crucifixion cream’ but it works on any girl wounds. They beat the crap out of you, Barb” she says as she rubs it onto my back.

prison 106.jpg

“Yeah, it hurt a lot” I reply.

“No, Barb, they literally beat the shit out of you. Lean over the table and let me clean your bum.”

I am beyond resisting and lean over. She gently uses a wet cloth to clean my bottom and the back of my thighs. Gentle as she is, I winch as she cleans my loins. She says “Damn, Barb, did they do you with both the wooden pony and the Judas Cradle?!?!?!”

“Yeah, they did” I reply.

She snaps on surgical gloves and says “Believe when I tell you that you will better tomorrow.”

She covers the gloves in her elixir and rams her thumb into my ass and a finger into my pussy while massaging my clit. At first it hurts but after a few moments I feel my ass squeezing her thumb and my pussy fucking her finger. I scream “Fill me more! Goddamn it, I need it!!!”

Thankfully she obliges! She asks me if I have ever been hanged. Absently I say “Not on this thread. In post-grad at UVM I have hanged a few women and being in a blue state always under the watchful eye of a union-certified hangman.”

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That is me in the lower left…

Polly asked “How do you feel about next Saturday?”

“Since I was 18 I had discovered what hid on the World Wide Web. Back then if you were could afford it you paid for an ISDN line and got a download speed of 128 KBS. If you lived in the right place you could get DSL and a whopping 1.4 MBS! I had dial-up at 58 KBS. Google was still in its infancy but somehow I found the ‘Dolcett Archive’. There is a story there called ‘The Tightrope Zone’ where the main character Penny Larson gets hanged....

dol 001.gif dol 002.gif dol 003.gif dol 004.gif dol 005.gif

... I have always been fascinated by the thought of it happening to me. To be honest I dread the thought of it but almost can’t wait.”

-Barb Moore

Tree
 
The Hangman.

Into our town the Hangman came,
Smelling of gold and blood and flame.
And he paced our bricks with a diffident air,
And built his frame on the courthouse square.


The scaffold stood by the courthouse side,
Only as wide as the door was wide;
A frame as tall, or little more,
Than the capping sill of the courthouse door.

And we wondered, whenever we had the time,
Who the criminal, what the crime,
That Hangman judged with the yellow twist
Of knotted hemp in his busy fist.

And innocent though we were, with dread,
We passed those eyes of buckshot lead;
Till one cried: "Hangman, who is he
For whom you raise the gallows-tree?"

Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
And he gave us a riddle instead of reply:
"He who serves me best," said he,
"Shall earn the rope on the gallows-tree."

And he stepped down, and laid his hand
On a man who came from another land.
And we breathed again, for another's grief
At the Hangman's hand was our relief.

And the gallows-frame on the courthouse lawn
By tomorrow's sun would be struck and gone.
So we gave him way, and no one spoke,
Out of respect for his hangman's cloak.

The next day's sun looked mildly down,
On roof and street in our quiet town
And, stark and black in the morning air,
The gallows-tree on the courthouse square.

And the Hangman stood at his usual stand
With the yellow hemp in his busy hand;
With his buckshot eye and his jaw like a pike,
And his air so knowing and businesslike.

And we cried: "Hangman, have you not done,
Yesterday, with the alien one?"
Then we fell silent, and stood amazed:
"Oh, not for him was the gallows raised."

He laughed a laugh as he looked at us:
"Did you think I'd gone to all this fuss
To hang one man? That's a thing I do
To stretch the rope when the rope is new."

Then one cried, "Murderer!" One cried, "Shame!"
And into our midst the Hangman came
To that man's place. "Do you hold," said he,
"With him that was meant for the gallows-tree?"

And he laid his hand on that one's arm,
And we shrank back in quick alarm,
And we gave him way, and no one spoke,
Out of fear of his hangman's cloak.

That night we saw with dread surprise,
The Hangman's scaffold had grown in size.
Fed by the blood beneath the chute
The gallows-tree had taken root;

Now as wide, or a little more,
Than the steps that led to the courthouse door,
As tall as the writing, or nearly as tall,
Halfway up on the courthouse wall.

The third he took — we had all heard tell —
Was a usurer and infidel,
And: "What," said the Hangman, "have you to do,
With the gallows-bound, and he a Jew?"

And we cried out: "Is this one he,
Who has served you well and faithfully?"
The Hangman smiled: "It's a clever scheme
To try the strength of the gallows-beam."

The fourth man's dark, accusing song
Had scratched out comfort hard and long;
And "What concern," he gave us back,
"Have you for the doomed - the doomed and black?"

The fifth.The sixth. And we cried again:
"Hangman, Hangman, is this the man?"
"It's a trick," he said, "that we hangmen know
For easing the trap when the trap springs slow."

And so we ceased, and asked no more,
As the Hangman tallied his bloody score;
And sun by sun, and night by night,
The gallows grew to monstrous height.

The wings of the scaffold opened wide,
Till they covered the square from side to side;
And the monster cross-beam, looking down,
Cast its shadow across the town.

Then through the town the Hangman came
And called in the empty streets my name -
And I looked at the gallows soaring tall
And thought: "There is no one left at all,

For hanging, and so he calls to me
to help pull down the gallows-tree."
And I went out with right good hope
to the Hangman's tree and the Hangman's rope.

He smiled at me as I came down,
To the courthouse square through the silent town,
and supple and stretched in his busy hand,
Was the yellow twist of the hempen strand.

And he whistled his tune as he tried the trap
And it sprang down with a ready snap—
And then with a smile of awful command,
He laid his hand upon my hand.

"You tricked me, Hangman!" I shouted then.
"That your scaffold was built for other men.
And I no henchman of yours," I cried,
"You lied to me, Hangman, foully lied!"

Then a twinkle grew in his buckshot eye:
"Lied to you? Tricked you?" he said,
"Not I. For I answered straight and I told you true:
The scaffold was raised for none but you.

"For who has served me more faithfully
Than you with your coward's hope?" said he,
"And where are the others that might have stood
Side by your side in the common good?"

"Dead," I whispered; and amiably
"Murdered," the Hangman corrected me;
"First the alien, then the Jew...
I did no more than you let me do."

Beneath the beam that blocked the sky,
None had stood so alone as I -
And the Hangman strapped me, and no voice there
Cried "Stay" for me in the empty square.

—Maurice Ogden

For what it's worth...
:(
 
IMG_1466.JPG Me and my phone (doing research);)

IMG_1467.GIF Me discovering Dolcett way back then, and imagining what it would be like to show my tight little in public like that. Dolcett knew.:rolleyes:

IMG_1468.JPG Tree managed to get the secret word "tumescent" in yet another episode. Give the man a prize. :D
 
Repertor said:
She should also feed her some crucifixion cakes.
They are much more yummy than ham and cheese sandwiches and they yield amazing results.

View attachment 503384 And besides, if Barb gets fat she will die quicker when she's hanged.
Click to expand...
Barb prefers to die slim :mad:

:spank::spank:
 
One PM, Brampton Daylight savings Time, 7 AM Tree time…

My Keurig is its last blow as it makes my first cup of coffee for the morning. I step out on the deck, unzip my fly, and piss through the railing. Some cop yells “What the hell are you doing, mate? I’m going to run you down to the station” before I realize I am on the top floor balcony at the Brampton Hyatt and not at the Tree estate!

I grab the leather-bound breakfast menu from balcony table and holler down as I flip it open saying “Sorry about that… Blame the jet lag. But I warn you I have diplomatic immunity (I point to the menu that he can barely see) so if you want to arrest me and spend the next week writing reports come on up!”

He doesn’t, of course. I call room service and order a bottle of Seagram’s 7. I am told the bar does not open until 11 AM. I swallow two aspirin dry and say “What time is it in Tokyo?”

“Sir I do not…”

“You are looking at a fucking computer, no?”

“Well yes but what…”

“Do me a favor and ‘Google’ what time it is in Tokyo” I ask. He tells me it around 1:15 PM there. I say “Then the bar is open. Get me a bottle of Seagram’s 7 before my coffee gets cold!”

“Sir, there is a microwave in your room that if you set on ‘beverage’ will reheat your coffee to the…”

“Listen, you dumb fuck, I already paid $4 US for a cup of Eul’s Slave Bard Premium Blend Coffee in a Keurig cup and I ain’t reheating it. Do you have children?”

“No, sir”

“Do you hope to” I ask.

“Well yes but what does that have to do coffee?”

“If my Seagram’s isn’t up here in two minutes I am going to shot your balls off!”

The Seagram’s arrived on time. I hate these trips but someone has to do them if we are going to hold the union together. the PC fuckers want to shut down capital punishment!!!

Tree

I am awakened and taken from my cell to a shower that has hot and cold water! I am surprised there are no marks visible from my scourging yesterday. Although my loins are still tender from the wooden pony and the Judas Cradle they are much better since Polly rubbed her elixir on and in them. My shoulders even recovered somewhat from the strappado. When I finish showering I towel off and comb my hair. There wasn’t a tangle in it in it and it feels softer than I can ever remember it. I’m going to have to get some of that when I get home. What the hell am I think- ‘when I get home’? I’ll be in pine box six feet under this time next week.

Back in a cell that is cleaner and better lit than mine a tall woman comes in and starts pawing and pinching me like I am some produce at a grocery store.

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I don’t realize how perceptive I am until I ask “Who are you and what are you doing?”

“I am Ingrid and I’ll be your chef this Saturday.”

“So I get a good meal before I am hanged?”

“I wouldn’t know about that. I’m spit-roasting you after you are hanged. The archbishop will be serving you for dinner. His cousin- you may know him- is here from the UVM” she explains.

“Despard Wragg is here” I ask barely able to hide my contempt. So I am going to be hanged and cooked on Saturday! Just as I wonder what else could go wrong HE walks in.

Nonchalantly Tree says to me “Hi, Barb, how’s it going?”
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“Just fucking great… I’m going to be hanged and spit-roasted on Saturday and I presume you are here to do the honors of the hanging part.”

“No, I’m here on union business. Your hangman Olaf is a member of the International Brotherhood. Every five years a hangman has to be recertified and when I heard you were getting your neck stretched I figured it would be as a good time as any to do it. Don’t worry about it Barb; I don’t recall a hanging he’s done in the last five years where the wench didn’t last at least 15 minutes and he came within a minute of tying my all-time record of 34 minutes. You have a good man doing you” Tree says.

I run my hands through my hair and can’t believe what I have just heard. Tree hands me a back of Madame Wu’s and a THT Zippo lighter saying “Keep it. I’ll get it back Saturday. Oh and at three this afternoon you are going to be interviewed live for Fox News Sunday. I was asked to tell you that if you don’t cooperate you’ll be hanged for only 5 minutes then be taken down to be spit-roasted alive.”

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Tree leaves and a guard locks an iron collar around my neck and my wrists are shackled crossed behind my back. Things just don’t any better I think until in walks the chipper pair of Siss and Kathy Summers! What the fuck are they doing here?

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I ask them exactly that and Siss explains when Despard Wragg chartered the THT Inc. jet and asked them to come along they couldn’t say no. I look at them and ask incredulously “Despard pried open his wallet and chartered a 747?”

“No, it was just a Gulfstream” Kathy says. “The damn thing doesn’t even have a dungeon in it!”

“So you came to watch me hang?”

“Oh, more than that… We are invited to dinner that evening where you are the main entrée! I’ve never had witch-girl meat before” Siss says almost giddy with excitement.

“I am not a witch, Siss! How long have you known me? Have you ever seen me do sorcery” I protest.

She lifts her little gold dress baring her shaved pussy and says “Not sorcery per say but your tongue has worked magic on this more than once!”

God help me what have I gotten into?

-Barb Moore

Tree
 
4513.jpg This pic just sent out on an all points circular to border officials everywhere ... Mr. T.H. Tree is hereby declared personal non grata at all international points of entry. Reason: Irreverent, uncouth, disgusting, personal habits and disregard for authority of any kind.

cook 071.jpg Hey, sweetie! Hands off the merchandise unless you can spring from this place!

barb and tree 002.jpg Well, look what the cat dragged in ... I might have known.

prison 134.jpg What did you say is in these Wu's ... they are making me feel woosy!

prison 180.jpg Oh great, he brougth along my friends to humiliate cheer me. I hope they don't think they are going to get some cunt steak out of this.
 
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