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Stuff Happen's After Messaline's Plans Go Awry...

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We drove up the Pacific Coast Highway. Last time I drove it was in ’86 in a Chrysler LeBaron GTS that probably weighed half what the Bentley did, much less with five people in it. Messa definitely could drive. We made it to the Atkinson estate about an hour sooner than I expected. She whipped the car into the climate controlled Garage beneath the main house. I climbed out and admired the stable of cars inside. The ladies stood in awe at the gleaming row of cars until Messa said “I was quite happy to be his wife.”

It brought the mood down more than a bit until she said “…but he was quite happy to kill his wife so, fuck it, girls, let me show you my house.”

While Messa gave them the tour I walked into the entertainment room where the VIP guests were attended to while Messa hung from her cross. On the bar was a remote control that operated everything from the massive TV to drapes and wall of windows, to the sound system. I opened draped then the window panels. I turned on the TV then the sound system. The music channels they had were far more extensive than what was available on cable or satellite. I settled on “Obscure Classic Rock” and fixed a Seagram’s and water. As I walked out to the covered patio Mick Ronson’s “Life’s Too Short” hit the speakers.

“No shit” I said to the empty room. Then I looked up the hill and saw Messa’s cross still standing there silhouetted against the blue sky and hisses “Oh, shit!”

Just about that time I heard Messa on the deck above yell “Holy shit!”

I thought she had seen the cross but then she yelled “Look, it’s my driver’s license, my passport, new credit cards, and Jesus fucking Christ, a wad of cash!”

I suspected it wouldn’t be long before she realized that it wasn’t my legal skills but Mr. Wu’s greasing of palms that had made everything go so quickly. I walked down to the guest house I had stayed in before. I drank a lot. Try to imagine it…

The sun was getting low when there was a knock on the door I had left open. Messa’s voice echoed through the house “It’s me, Tree, don’t shoot.”

“Come on in. I’m on the patio”.

She walked out on the deck stark naked except for her tag and Nailus Martyr shoes. She walked to one of the arches and stretched. “I was going to were the blue dress that Gunner washed but I think I’ll have to save it until I have a daughter about six years old.”
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She looked stunning as the low sun shone around and through her body with her hair in a pair of pigtails. “Tree, Thank you for all you’ve done for me. It was a nice touch leaving my cross there. Do you think we could…”

“Why don’t you think about it tonight, Messa?”

“…Because I need a fuck now. I’m alive. It’s not a ‘thank you’ fuck, or ‘I love you’ fuck. Crap, Tree, don’t you ever just fuck?”

I have on occasion…

tree
 
Wednesday morning Messa drove me to the rental car store in town. I grabbed my bag out of the trunk of the Bentley and went in with Messa. She insisted on putting the car on her new charge card and picked out a Cadillac CTS-V. She apologized to me that they didn’t have a purple one with a pink interior. I put my bag in the trunk and turned to her. “Well, I guess this is it.”

“Oh, Tree, we’ll see each other again” she protested.

“Once you settle into your life you’ll forget about me.”

“Forget my executioner; I think not!” We hugged and she kissed me. “I’m alive because of you…”
Her voice broke and she turned and ran to her car. I drove down the Pacific Coast Highway at a leisurely pace. There was no need to rush. I was staying in one of the Wu condos in Santa Monica that night before flying home in the morning. I pulled off at one of the scenic overlooked and fucked around with the satellite radio until I found a classic rock station. As I pulled out and continued south Lou Reed’s “New York Conversation” followed by “Walk on the Wild Side”. I opened the Seagram’s and drank a late brunch.

It was a bit past two when I got to the condo. A bellhop took my bag and the valet the car. In the condo I scooped some ice into a glass and poured a drink. As I emptied my pockets I notice the business card sticking out of my wallet. It was the uptight judge’s from Messa’s hearing. I promised I would call and tell her what happened and I figured if I called then she’d be in court and I could leave a message and consider it a promise kept. I dialed the number and I’ll be damned if the bitch herself didn’t answer.

“Mr. Tree, I want to talk to you in person about this situation” she told me.

“Well, I have an early flight tomorrow and I sure as hell am not driving to downtown LA at this time of day.”

“My God, no I don’t want you to come here! Where are you staying?”

I gave her the address and she said she would come by. LA traffic being what it is I figured I had time for a shower. I called the security desk and told them I was expecting the judge and to let her up then took a long hot soak in the Wu Industries $50K steam shower spa. I stepped out and walked past the pile of clothing by the sink and brushed my teeth. I ran my fingers through my hair pushing the wet strands back and slipped on my Aviator’s and hat (my regular hat). I walked out to the living room naked except for the afore mentioned hat and shades, mixed a drink, and lit a smoke. Behind me a woman’s voice said “I guess I shouldn’t have criticized what you did wear in court.”

I grabbed the Glock and turned around, giving the judge the full Monty. I took a drag off the smoke and said “I told them to let you up, not in.”

“Mistakes happen” she shrugged. “It looks like I’m at a disadvantage. You’ve got to guns to my none.”

“Yeah but you have more clothes than I do. Why don’t we make it fair, your honor, and you get out of that suit.” She was wearing a black tailored suit. The skirt hemmed right at her knees and tight enough I never could understand how a woman could walk in one. The heels she wore that I never saw in court added four inched to her height. She took off the severe black rimmed glasses, tossing them on the coffee table, the let her auburn hair out of the bun and fluffed it over her shoulders. The judge looked pretty damn sexy.

As she unfastened the button on the waist band she sternly warned me “You are already violating California law by threatening an officer of the court.”

“It ain’t a threat, your honor. Get out of the outfit or it gets very loud in here.”

She unzipped the skirt and wiggled as she pushed it down her thighs revealing she wore no panties or stockings and one neatly shaved pussy. She stepped out of the skirt, put her hands on her hips, and asked “Are you satisfied?”

“Not unless you’re going to pull a hat out of your ass… Get the jacket off.”
I thought she was enjoying the situation as much as I was. When she peeled the fitted jacket from her shoulders she thrust her tits out and the lace camisole sans bra didn’t hide much. She tossed the jacket on the coffee table and asked “Enough?”

I pulled the hammer back on the Glock and shook my head ‘no’.

As she pulled the camisole over her body she said “Damn, I didn’t know you were the Hanging Tree!”
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“I didn’t know you were a judge in California, Sophie…”

tree
 
:D a real officer that judge.
 
Sophie and I are sort of related, something like second cousins twice removed or something like that. Since I first saw her when I was five I said I was going to marry her. That never happened but now she stood naked before me. She was damn pretty and didn’t look anywhere near her forty-plus years. She could tell I approved.

“So, Tree, how did Messa do it? How did she survive?”

“Crucifixion by itself is not a fatal event.”

“I’m aware of that; I found on the web that you do ‘recreational’ crucifixions. Is there much of a demand for that?”

“More than you’d expect” I replied. I could tell she was intrigued by the idea when her finger slipped into her cunt. “Messa survived because the IMF didn’t follow their protocol. If they would have left her crucified the full day following her ‘death’ she most certainly would have remained dead.”

I saw no need to mention Madame Wu complicity in the event. She took a deep breath and said “Tree, I want you to crucify me.”

“Have you discussed this with Laura?” I asked. Laura is her significant other.

“I have and she’s all for it. In fact she wants to flog me prior to the crucifixion!”

“Do you have a location where you want done?”

“I think your place is well suited for such an event.”

I told her I’d send her the required contract. She told me later when she told Laura it was on they had the best sex in years. I wondered if she told Laura about the blowjob she gave me…



Back at home I had an uneventful couple of weeks. I got a call from the coffee shop that I had a FedEx package there. I thought it might be the contract from Sophie but was surprised to see it was from Messa. Inside was a society section from a weekend Le Monde. There was a big article about Ms. Messaline Atkinson with pictures of her at her estate on the Riviera. Messa also included a typewritten translation. At the end of article she hand wrote a note:

“I was going to send this to you by e-mail but I doubt you would check it for a month. Anyway, I’m adjusting to being an independently wealthy woman of some celebrity! I’ll see you soon. I can’t let my private jet sit too long…

Love

Messa”
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tree
 
News of Messa’s ‘rebirth’ traveled fast. And the one person who definitely didn’t like it was Brian’s personal assistant, Darlene. The judge’s ruling stated that Messa was restored “all rights, privileges, and properties belonging to you.” This meant that Messa inherited all of Brian’s businesses as well as her mother’s extensive holdings, and Darlene was left with what little cash she had on hand. Darlene went from being one of the wealthiest persons on earth to a co-conspirator in Messa’s execution and any number of fraud charges that would have her enjoying life from inside a small prison cell either in the US or Europe.

Faced with growing old in prison Darlene could have done what Brian did and commit suicide but she couldn’t bring herself to ending her own life. With bank accounts frozen and her passport on watch at every port she took the only option she could think of… the IMF.

The IMF had long ago gone to crucifixion as the execution standard. There was a clause in their bylaws that if one turned oneself in before being charged by the IMF that person could designate their method of execution. Darlene turned herself over to the IMF.

On the evening of Thursday, July 12, 2007, Darlene was taken wrists bound and naked from her cell and led to the execution chamber. She had chosen to be hanged. She was led up a flight of stairs where IMF Colonel Susan Hyland stood waiting in her crisp uniform.
Darlene took a deep breath as the thick rope of the noose was draped over her head and rested on her shoulders. The white cotton rope was softer than she expected.

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She was surprised at how aroused she was as the officer tightened the noose around her neck. But she was also surprised when the coils of the noose’s knot were laid on her right breast with barely a foot of slack left in the rope. While there was no way her head could pass through the loop the noose was far from tight around her neck.

“You really should have been a bit more specific on your execution selection, Darlene” the Colonel told her. “You see, you only asked to be hanged. So how you hang is up to me. I don’t like long drops. All the fun is over way too fast. And the short drop just seems inhumane to me. So I like a medium drop, say a couple of feet. You know Darlene, it will stun you for a few moments but then you’ll realize you are hanging. As tight as this knot is you’ll get to kick around maybe four or five minutes before you can’t get any air and then it will be another thirty seconds or so before you fade to black.”

“I thought it would be fast!” Darlene cried.

“It’s quicker than the cross.”

Darlene felt her bowels churn and what she thought would be flatulence was a blast of wet stool down her legs.

“Oh, poor baby, the billionaire’s last act was to shit herself” Susan said before she pulled the lever…
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In the privacy of the execution chamber Darlene struggled to take her last breaths even as the noose slowly tightened around her throat. As if blasted over loudspeakers she could hear each slid of the knot as the loop grew smaller around her neck. The pain of her body stretching her neck was far greater than she could have imagined. What seemed like an eternity to Darlene the noose stopped her breathing after six minutes. It was another 45 seconds before she stopped feeling her arteries hammering against the rope. The only sound she heard was a loud ringing in her ears. She looked at her body twitching in the mirror and wondered how many were watching on the other side of the glass…

tree
 
I have always enjoyed a good hanging!!

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A hangmans noose which has been actually used in executions at Wandsworth Prision in London England.
 
At the end of summer the Academy of Adjustments and Abstinence (‘3A’, that ‘triple A’ thing seems to be trademarked in the US) graduated another class. The freshman girls all had to spend their first trimester at the O.P.P. But first the new girls went through ‘orientation’; which really was a study of ‘It’s the end of your life as you know it’.

A bunch of rich girls that had annoyed their parents enough were admitted to the fall 2007 class of the AA&A. Initiation consisted of having their hands bound behind hind their backs and their ‘civilian clothing’ removed. They were inspected and issued demerits for any tattoo (the bigger the greater the number) and for each sign of body piercing with the exception of one earring hole in each ear. One girl was brazen enough to wear her body jewelry and learned about the leather paddle stray within the first few hours she was there.
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Each girl was interviewed to make sure they could articulate why the needed the structure and disciple of the AA&A. Some wisely went along passively and recited their transgressions.

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Others were less wise but would quickly come around…
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tree
 
After initiation was over the freshman class was delivered to the O.P.P. for their first trimester. Some that had already earned demerits were chained and naked while the ones that had ‘accepted’ their transgressions were allowed some clothing for the forty minute ride to the O.P.P. In the middle of the night they were loaded in a cattle trailer. As they waded through the cow pies it was reinforced on them that they were no longer living the pampered lives they had grown up with.
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One of the girls said “Look on the bright side; we could have been doing this in the January trimester. Several classmates scooped up handfuls of cow shit and pelted her with it…
tree
 
Some of the girls had troubles adjusting to life on a chain gang. In addition to earning demerits the offending girl was introduced to the OPP’s septic system. They were warned a second offense would put the whole class in the tank. She was told she would be less than popular with her classmates…
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…Then the contents of the holding tank poured over her body…
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The overseers were not happy about ‘27’s confession as they first thought they would not be allowed to have their way with the chain gang girls. A discussion with the abbot reached an agreement that the overseers could still bugger the girls at will but did not allow them the option to trade the use of girl’s asses for lightened workloads. The overseers didn’t have a problem with that arrangement. One of the freshman girls, ‘37’, did. After being buggered by three overseers she tried to run. With the chain attached to her ankles, it was a futile effort. One of the overseers chased after her and ran her over with his ATV.
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Dirty and sore with the overseers’ cum tainted with her stoop oozing from her ass, she vowed to kill him. She would keep that vow but would not live to see her second trimester…
tree


 
Although she hardly needed the money, Messa was intrigued when I sent her a letter asking if she would pose for the new series of Nailus Martyrs advertisements that would run in some of the top fashion magazines around the world. She wrote back (she knows I’m terrible about checking e-mail, and screw texting) she would if she had final approval on the ad photos and copy. In addition she said she’d throw me a ‘bone’ on some of them.

I didn’t know what she meant and she wasn’t telling. When the ads came out Messa was pictured mostly nude wearing various items from Nailus Martyrs. The magazines became collector items in the US because many of the usual outlets would not carry the magazines with the ads. One of the magazines placed one of the ads on their website. It took three days before the site could be restored.
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As for me the bone was the line that said ‘Messa’s crucifixion performed by The Hanging Tree Inc…’

It makes it possible to wear the stuff…

There was a fair amount of women who went to Mexico to get the ‘crucifixion’ surgery done. But pretty soon they would find others would show pictures of their crucifixion and wanted to see pictures of theirs.

Who would have thought that being crucified by Tree would have snob appeal…
Tree

Just a few frames left and this story really will be done...But there was fodder throughout about other stories
 
I love the small print! ;)​
(though I had to perform contortions to read it sideways)​
 
Eulalia said:
I love the small print! ;)​
(though I had to perform contortions to read it sideways)​
Click to expand...
download it. Put it in photo shop and rotate it. ...Better yet show us the contortions you did. I had fun doing these. Story behind that in the Tech section. It was eight hours of 'work' but the punishment ain't too bad when one of our Bards are smiling back from the screen. Might do a series of these...

Tree

...Ok you liked it Ulrika, why didn't you comment??? ...You were busy with ADMI???
:mad:
 
…Messaline and Sharon traveled the world and for a while after healing from her own crucifixion ‘27’ joined the two for a while. But having spent her life since childhood in boarding schools, the Academy of Adjustment and Abstinence, and the abbey of the O.P.P., she was not used the freedoms she suddenly had. Her education never prepared her enjoy the life she then had. Messa and Sharon tried to help her adapt but ‘27’ longed for the life she knew best.



She returned to the Midwest and became a sister of the O.P.P. Messa, Sharon, and ‘27’ kept in touch and even visited her at the abbey…
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They were in town for a vacation. They would spend the winter in the subbasement of the coffee shop grinding coffee with the slave Eulalia under the watchful eyes and whips of Melissa and Julie.

In 2011, Eulalia would meet ‘27’ when she was sent to the O.P.P. before her crucifixion. She would know her as Sister Persecutor.

The novice Kelly progressed to rise in the ranks and was called Mother Superior by the time Eul ‘visited’…







This is really the end of this story. Tree got carried away again but had fun with it and enjoyed all your comments. Special thanks for the use of Messa again. I promise not to use Messa again…

Tree

…what, Ulrika? I meant besides that other thread…
 
thehangingtree said:
download it. Put it in photo shop and rotate it. ...Better yet show us the contortions you did. I had fun doing these. Story behind that in the Tech section. It was eight hours of 'work' but the punishment ain't too bad when one of our Bards are smiling back from the screen. Might do a series of these...

Tree

...Ok you liked it Ulrika, why didn't you comment??? ...You were busy with ADMI???
:mad:
Click to expand...
leave her alone........................and let me have the fun:rolleyes:
 
Tree, it's me who is proud to be used by you:I was very enjoyed by these stories and, if my little contribution has brought something, I'm happy of that....
Kisses to you...Your Messa:)
 
...besides the regular inspiration of you cut bod and proes your suggestion of being crucified with Brigitte did add about 8 pages and 13 pictures to this marathon. It was fun for me and at times hard to write as I tried to consider all the emotions. But the evil Tree is working on extracting confessions from you, Eul, and L'ilSiss.

He was told not to try to understand emotions as the bards will fill that in (as long as they are able to). The evil Tree wonders who would think he gives a damn...

Tree
flower1
 
But the evil Tree is working on extracting confessions from you,...
Click to expand...

No problem, Tree; in fact, since I'm rich, I become bored; you can invent all the confessions that you want, I'll sign it...
I want to return to my cross: I was quiet, nobody troubled me, it was the
paradise...:rolleyes:
 
messaline said:
No problem, Tree; in fact, since I'm rich, I become bored; you can invent all the confessions that you want, I'll sign it...
I want to return to my cross: I was quiet, nobody troubled me, it was the
paradise...:rolleyes:
Click to expand...
..except Janet licking you pussy...
plans Messa and the captain jpeg.jpg
...never mind, you liked that...

tree
 
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