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Roman Holiday
- Thread starter windar
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Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
She looks more sad than grumpy. And she's naked and you're not....At least not yet
Why is she hiding her face? Because you wouldn'd see the smile on it.She isn't sad nor grumpy anymore. She exhausted herself by stomping her feet and has fallen asleep. Now she is dreaming of her hidden fantasies.
She is already naked and in the next stage of her dream some chains will be added. She can't help fingering herself when she is imagining herself standing stark naked and shackled before the court.
windar
Teller of Tales
6.
Stan and Bob were laughing as they passed through the prison gate, Bob locking the barred door behind them. “Did you see the look on her face?” Stan asked. “Priceless.”
“She didn’t look happy,” Bob replied.
“I know her,” Stan said. “She’s mad as hell, but also turned on as hell. I wouldn’t be shocked if she gets herself off in there. I’m glad that video camera is hidden in the ceiling so we can see what she’s doing.”
Bob opened the app on his phone and showed Stan the interior of the cell. It was hard to make out details in the dim light, but he could see Barb pacing back and forth. Bob led them to a small neighborhood bar, where they ordered beers and watched the second half of the Juventus-Roma match. Stan wasn’t a huge soccer fan, but, when in Rome, do as the Romans do, he figured. Every few minutes, they checked the video feed; after a while Barb had gotten tired of pacing and was sitting on the stone floor, her back against one of the walls. As far as they could tell she had restrained her urges and didn’t play with herself.
Finally the match was over (Juventus won, as usual, 2-1). Stan and Bob made their way back to the prison, stopping at Bob’s car to extract a small suitcase from the trunk before Bob opened the gate and locked it behind them.
Off the entranceway were bathrooms for the use of the tourists who visited the historic site during the day. Inside one of them, Bob opened the suitcase and extracted two sheets of white cotton cloth. “I guess I’ll be the first Jewish member of the KKK,” Stan said. He removed his shirt and trousers, leaving him in just his briefs, as Bob did the same.
“I’ll show you how to do this,” Bob said, draping the cloth around himself. Stan did his best to mimic the Italian cop and, with a few adjustments, managed to make it look like a halfway respectable toga. Then, they removed their shoes and socks and donned the sandals that were in the suitcase, where they stowed their regular clothes.
Finally, Bob extracted a scroll from the suitcase and handed it to Stan. “It’s some bullshit proclamation from the Minister of Justice about his new campaign against drunk driving, but you can pretend can’t you?” Stan nodded, cracking up a bit at what they were about to do to Barb. “Alright my friend, let’s go,” Bob said, leading the way to the cell where Barb sat.
Hearing them coming, she stood and walked to the bars at the front of the cell. “Alright, you shitheads; you’ve had your little joke. Now let me out.”
Stan looked at the scroll, pretending to read, “Barbara Mora, the tribunal has reviewed your case. They have determined that you are guilty of fornication and defiling the sacred temple of Vesta and are sentenced to be executed at dawn. Normally, you would be crucified, but you’ve been there and done that. Besides, I have a flight to London tomorrow afternoon and don’t have time to watch you struggle for days, so the sentence will be carried out by throwing you in the Tiber with a heavy rock chained to your ankle.”
Barb rolled her eyes. “You’re a laugh riot Goldman.”
“Goldman?” Who is that?” Stan asked. “I am Senator Homaurum and this is my colleague, Senator Spero. We have come to offer you a deal, one you would do well to accept. We will spare your life if you accept our punishment and satisfy us as to your contrition.”
“What did you have in mind Goldman? I mean ‘Senator Homaurum’.”
“You will take a dozen lashes with this,” Bob said, extracting from under his toga a rather vicious looking multi-tailed whip. “This is a recreation of a Roman flagellum, such as they used to scourge prisoners prior to crucifixion. Of course, theirs had bits of bone sewn into the leather so that it would tear the skin and flesh. We are not so cruel. This will sting, but won’t do any permanent damage, I hope. Stan might find a use for you afterwards, he told me.”
“Oh he might, eh?” Barb asked. “We’ll have to see about that. What if I refuse?”
“I wouldn’t do that, Barb,” Stan interjected. “Bob knows just about every Mafiosi in Italy and some back in the States.” He noticed Barb had a faraway look in her eyes, like she was thinking about something very deep.
“Alright, you two are powerful Senators and I’m just a poor Vestal non-virgin at your mercy. What do I have to do?”
“I’m glad you’re being sensible, young lady,” Stan said. “The first order of business is to strip.”
“Somehow, I knew you’d say that Goldman, I mean Senator,” Barb said.
“And don’t just take your clothes off, Moore, do a nice striptease. Sorry, I didn’t bring any music, but I can sing if you’d like,” Stan told her.
“No Stan, I’m willing to let you whip me, but that is a torture too far,” she replied as she began a sinuous dance, slowly opening, one by one, the buttons of her blouse. Soon, the garment hung open and she turned her back on them, slowly drawing the cloth down over her shoulder blades then lowering it to her waist, before wriggling her arms out of the sleeves. Barb twirled the blouse over her head a few times, before crumpling it and throwing it at the two men. Of course the bars were in the way, so it fell harmlessly to the floor.
Stan looked at Bob. “Perhaps we should go in there?” he suggested.
“Is it safe?” Bob asked.
“With Barb, it’s never safe, but I don’t see how we can whip her through the bars,” Stan replied. Bob unlocked the gate and the two men entered the lioness’s den, locking the gate behind them.
Meanwhile, Barb had reached behind her and unhooked her bra, twirling it over her head as she had done with the blouse and then crumpling it and throwing it hard at Stan’s head. He deftly caught it just before impact. “Close, but no cigar,” he told her. Bob was staring intently at Barb’s breasts, apparently hypnotized by the circular motion they made as she wiggled her hips.
She continued wiggling her hips as she undid the button of her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. She bent down and turned around, shaking her tight little ass in the direction of the two men, and unbuckled her sandals, stepping out of them and the skirt at the same time, leaving her only in her panties.
“What do you think, Bob?” Stan asked.
“That you are a lucky bastard, Stan.”
“We’ll see if his luck isn’t coming to an end after tonight,” Barb said, giving her hips one last gyration as she pulled her panties down and stood before them naked. “Happy now, gentlemen?” she asked.
“Ecstatic,” Stan said. “Now go stand against the bars and hold on tight,” he ordered, taking the whip from Bob. “This might hurt just a bit.”
Stan and Bob were laughing as they passed through the prison gate, Bob locking the barred door behind them. “Did you see the look on her face?” Stan asked. “Priceless.”
“She didn’t look happy,” Bob replied.
“I know her,” Stan said. “She’s mad as hell, but also turned on as hell. I wouldn’t be shocked if she gets herself off in there. I’m glad that video camera is hidden in the ceiling so we can see what she’s doing.”
Bob opened the app on his phone and showed Stan the interior of the cell. It was hard to make out details in the dim light, but he could see Barb pacing back and forth. Bob led them to a small neighborhood bar, where they ordered beers and watched the second half of the Juventus-Roma match. Stan wasn’t a huge soccer fan, but, when in Rome, do as the Romans do, he figured. Every few minutes, they checked the video feed; after a while Barb had gotten tired of pacing and was sitting on the stone floor, her back against one of the walls. As far as they could tell she had restrained her urges and didn’t play with herself.
Finally the match was over (Juventus won, as usual, 2-1). Stan and Bob made their way back to the prison, stopping at Bob’s car to extract a small suitcase from the trunk before Bob opened the gate and locked it behind them.
Off the entranceway were bathrooms for the use of the tourists who visited the historic site during the day. Inside one of them, Bob opened the suitcase and extracted two sheets of white cotton cloth. “I guess I’ll be the first Jewish member of the KKK,” Stan said. He removed his shirt and trousers, leaving him in just his briefs, as Bob did the same.
“I’ll show you how to do this,” Bob said, draping the cloth around himself. Stan did his best to mimic the Italian cop and, with a few adjustments, managed to make it look like a halfway respectable toga. Then, they removed their shoes and socks and donned the sandals that were in the suitcase, where they stowed their regular clothes.
Finally, Bob extracted a scroll from the suitcase and handed it to Stan. “It’s some bullshit proclamation from the Minister of Justice about his new campaign against drunk driving, but you can pretend can’t you?” Stan nodded, cracking up a bit at what they were about to do to Barb. “Alright my friend, let’s go,” Bob said, leading the way to the cell where Barb sat.
Hearing them coming, she stood and walked to the bars at the front of the cell. “Alright, you shitheads; you’ve had your little joke. Now let me out.”
Stan looked at the scroll, pretending to read, “Barbara Mora, the tribunal has reviewed your case. They have determined that you are guilty of fornication and defiling the sacred temple of Vesta and are sentenced to be executed at dawn. Normally, you would be crucified, but you’ve been there and done that. Besides, I have a flight to London tomorrow afternoon and don’t have time to watch you struggle for days, so the sentence will be carried out by throwing you in the Tiber with a heavy rock chained to your ankle.”
Barb rolled her eyes. “You’re a laugh riot Goldman.”
“Goldman?” Who is that?” Stan asked. “I am Senator Homaurum and this is my colleague, Senator Spero. We have come to offer you a deal, one you would do well to accept. We will spare your life if you accept our punishment and satisfy us as to your contrition.”
“What did you have in mind Goldman? I mean ‘Senator Homaurum’.”
“You will take a dozen lashes with this,” Bob said, extracting from under his toga a rather vicious looking multi-tailed whip. “This is a recreation of a Roman flagellum, such as they used to scourge prisoners prior to crucifixion. Of course, theirs had bits of bone sewn into the leather so that it would tear the skin and flesh. We are not so cruel. This will sting, but won’t do any permanent damage, I hope. Stan might find a use for you afterwards, he told me.”
“Oh he might, eh?” Barb asked. “We’ll have to see about that. What if I refuse?”
“I wouldn’t do that, Barb,” Stan interjected. “Bob knows just about every Mafiosi in Italy and some back in the States.” He noticed Barb had a faraway look in her eyes, like she was thinking about something very deep.
“Alright, you two are powerful Senators and I’m just a poor Vestal non-virgin at your mercy. What do I have to do?”
“I’m glad you’re being sensible, young lady,” Stan said. “The first order of business is to strip.”
“Somehow, I knew you’d say that Goldman, I mean Senator,” Barb said.
“And don’t just take your clothes off, Moore, do a nice striptease. Sorry, I didn’t bring any music, but I can sing if you’d like,” Stan told her.
“No Stan, I’m willing to let you whip me, but that is a torture too far,” she replied as she began a sinuous dance, slowly opening, one by one, the buttons of her blouse. Soon, the garment hung open and she turned her back on them, slowly drawing the cloth down over her shoulder blades then lowering it to her waist, before wriggling her arms out of the sleeves. Barb twirled the blouse over her head a few times, before crumpling it and throwing it at the two men. Of course the bars were in the way, so it fell harmlessly to the floor.
Stan looked at Bob. “Perhaps we should go in there?” he suggested.
“Is it safe?” Bob asked.
“With Barb, it’s never safe, but I don’t see how we can whip her through the bars,” Stan replied. Bob unlocked the gate and the two men entered the lioness’s den, locking the gate behind them.
Meanwhile, Barb had reached behind her and unhooked her bra, twirling it over her head as she had done with the blouse and then crumpling it and throwing it hard at Stan’s head. He deftly caught it just before impact. “Close, but no cigar,” he told her. Bob was staring intently at Barb’s breasts, apparently hypnotized by the circular motion they made as she wiggled her hips.
She continued wiggling her hips as she undid the button of her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. She bent down and turned around, shaking her tight little ass in the direction of the two men, and unbuckled her sandals, stepping out of them and the skirt at the same time, leaving her only in her panties.
“What do you think, Bob?” Stan asked.
“That you are a lucky bastard, Stan.”
“We’ll see if his luck isn’t coming to an end after tonight,” Barb said, giving her hips one last gyration as she pulled her panties down and stood before them naked. “Happy now, gentlemen?” she asked.
“Ecstatic,” Stan said. “Now go stand against the bars and hold on tight,” he ordered, taking the whip from Bob. “This might hurt just a bit.”
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
windar
Teller of Tales
I was thinking AS Roma, but Stan wouldn't know the difference (unless you told him it was like the Yankees and the Mets). But wouldn't Juventus be favored over either one?
Sharkman
Governor
I fear it's a simple trap. Goldman, you silly guy! Can you trust Bob?
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
Not only in Rome. This applies to everywhere. 
Cement shoes, a real maffia tradition. After all we are in Italy.
Stan, I didn't know you're such a good singer.
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Cella
Spectator
Some late revenge by Goldman? Remember, Ms. Moore once left him behind cuffed naked to a bed, while she went out jogging.
Wow. Goldman sure carries a grudge! Payback is indeed a motherfucker, isn't it!
Something very kinky going on here! I must read on!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
That classic!
"What's the matter Goldman, are you just flabbergasted, or shall we bring you to cardiology as a precaution?"
windar
Teller of Tales
That classic!
"What's the matter Goldman, are you just flabbergasted, or shall we bring you to cardiology as a precaution?"
From the Cialis commercials they have on TV here in the US: "Ask your doctor if you're healthy enough for sex". Stan did, and his doctor said, "No one is healthy enough for sex with Barb..."
From the Cialis commercials they have on TV here in the US: "Ask your doctor if you're healthy enough for sex". Stan did, and his doctor said, "No one is healthy enough for sex with Barb..."
THAT LAST PART IS not IN THE COMMERCIAL!!!!
Cella
Spectator
You mean they are actually in there with her!
Holy shit! Have these two geniuses thought this through? Really thought this through? Isn't it kind of like being in a prison cell with Hannibal Lecter and asking "So, what's for dinner?"
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Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
Sex with Eulalia is even more dangerous."No one is healthy enough for sex with Barb..."
Ask Prince Qusay (R.I.P.)
Oh, of course. You can't.
(See "For The Pleasure Of Prince Uday").
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Just as well really. If it had worked, the
Trying to catch up. This is excellent writing, Windar and Barb. Not quite sure where this is all going, but I'm keen to find out. Papal audiences, Rome hotels, nightmares, and now a prison. What's Goldman up to? What's Barb up to? Will she succumb to suggestion? Are those cameras working? Who is Bob? If Barb does decide to take matters into her own fingers, isn't that unwrapping Goldman's present? Doesn't Barb get a present for her birthday?
See? I'm engaged and interested. A bit off track, perhaps, but interested.
Sharkman
Governor
Just as well really. If it had worked, theRomanroaming charges would have bankrupted you.
Trying to catch up. This is excellent writing, Windar and Barb. Not quite sure where this is all going, but I'm keen to find out. Papal audiences, Rome hotels, nightmares, and now a prison. What's Goldman up to? What's Barb up to? Will she succumb to suggestion? Are those cameras working? Who is Bob? If Barb does decide to take matters into her own fingers, isn't that unwrapping Goldman's present? Doesn't Barb get a present for her birthday?
See? I'm engaged and interested. A bit off track, perhaps, but interested.
Great!
I am a bit bemused by this relationship. I had always heard that good relationships were based on mutual respect, and it does seem that Goldman feels some affection for Ms. Moore, at least. This will likely be found to be a minor misunderstanding and all will ultimately be sweetness and light again. On the other hand, we are at CF, and this is Barb we're talking about (and let's face it, she does have a bit of a temper), so I suppose anything could happen.
Still, it does keep the reader interested.
Just the facts, ma'am.Well, .... ok .... I just want to say that, like any red-blooded American male, Goldman has a tendency when recounting his "exploits" with women to
). Sooooo, for the time being I will remain silent ... bite my tongue ... which as everyone knows is very hard for me to do ... and let him tell his little
But .... I beg readers here to suspend judgement until he has finished and I have had an opportunity to tell my own version.
Hang in there everyone!
That sounds fair, and here at CF, we are always...um...often...er...sometimes...
Hey, listen guys, we could be fair! It's novel, but really, it might be fun for a change.
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
That will be an interesting confrontation.I beg readers here to suspend judgement until he has finished and I have had an opportunity to tell my own version.
One has to hear two bells to know where the clapper is.