Uvm Faculty Barbeque

[thehangingtree]

University of the Virgin Martyrs Faculty picnic…

Professor Barbara Moore sat in her office at the University of the Virgin Martyrs. After whipping through a couple hundred e-mails she looked through sparse ‘snail mail’ in her wire wicker inbox. She hated the old thing but her old uncle told her if someone had something really important to say they will do it on paper.

I open the envelope. The letter is on the chancellor’s stationery with gold embossed letters in bold Old English “UVM”.

The University of the Virgin Martyrs

wishes to remind you of our last ‘long pig’ barbeque this Saturday.

After twenty-five years our exemption from the ‘sunset’ of the spit-roast law expires. Please make every effort to see the last sow spit-roasted.

Chancellor Wragg


Crap, I have other plans for Saturday but I guess I better go. I wish I hadn’t dumped all those e-mails… I wonder which student is getting roasted for the the last barbeque…

Barb




Tree

 

[Eulalia]

To be held in the Dolcett Memorial Garden?

 

[ERIN the Brave]

I would not want to be the guest of honor at that party!!!

 

[admihoek]

Barb and other people told me, you were the guest of honour

 

[ERIN the Brave]

Barb and other people told me, you were the guest of honour

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO1!!!!!!!!!

 

[Barbaria1]

University of the Virgin Martyrs Faculty picnic…

Professor Barbara Moore sat in her office at the University of the Virgin Martyrs. After whipping through a couple hundred e-mails she looked through sparse ‘snail mail’ in her wire wicker inbox. She hated the old thing but her old uncle told her if someone had something really important to say they will do it on paper.

I open the envelope. The letter is on the chancellor’s stationery with gold embossed letters in bold Old English “UVM”.

The University of the Virgin Martyrs

wishes to remind you of our last ‘long pig’ barbeque this Saturday.

After twenty-five years our exemption from the ‘sunset’ of the spit-roast law expires. Please make every effort to see the last sow spit-roasted.

Chancellor Wragg


Crap, I have other plans for Saturday but I guess I better go. I wish I hadn’t dumped all those e-mails… I wonder which student is getting roasted for the the last barbeque…

Barb

View attachment 244689


Tree

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO1!!!!!!!!!

To be held in the Dolcett Memorial Garden?

Relax everyone. No sweat (at least for us). By tradition, it's always a student. Unless......

 

[Wragg]

Relax everyone. No sweat (at least for us). By tradition, it's always a student. Unless......

Unless...

Chancellor Wragg has fiddled with the rules!

Chancellor Wragg
Chancellor Wragg
Chancellor Wragg
Chancellor Wragg
Chancellor Wragg
Chancellor Wragg

Just saying it over a few times, I like the sound!

 

[Eulalia]

Try singing it to 'Postman Pat'

 

[curiousmink]

I would not want to be the guest of honor at that party!!!

maybe we can change the venue, instead of a barBQ lets say be put in a cage ?

 

[vulcan]

Been to chancellor wraggs party before ended being flogged then crucified by his cronies

maybe we can change the venue, instead of a barBQ lets say be put in a cage ?

 

[Wragg]

Try singing it to 'Postman Pat'

Chanc’lor Wragg. Chanc’lor Wragg.
Chanc’lor Wragg and his deadly cat.
Early in the morning, just as day is dawning,
he picks up the virgins in his van.

Chanc’lor Wragg. Chanc’lor Wragg.
Chanc’lor Wragg and his deadly cat.
All the girls are singing,
and the whipping’s just beginning.
Wragg feels he's a really happy man.

 

[Eulalia]

I knew you'd rise to that challenge - Superwragg!

 

[thehangingtree]

Prof. Moore had a light teaching schedule that semester. It was a bit before noon Friday when she wrapped up that day’s lecture of ‘Appropriate Discipline of Slaves’. She thought it went well though one would doubt the demonstration slave appreciated the mastery of guest lecturer Primus Pilus. As she walked from the Hall of Discipline and Penance a man approached her and showed her his campus police badge and photo identification before saying “Professor Moore, you are under arrest.”

“It will be explained shortly. Please place your hands behind your back. If you don’t cooperate I will not hesitate to use a ‘TASER’ on you” He said calm but sternly. Professor Moore had demonstrated use of a TASER in a lecture earlier that semester and offered her wrists behind her back.



Professor Moore did not know why she was arrested and was even more confused she was not taken to the campus police station with its holding cell but was instead brought to the UVM administration building. She was led with her wrists cuffed behind her back past administrators and faculty that looked knowingly at her. She was taken to an elevator and was whisked to the third floor where the chancellor’s opulent office was. Barb did not like the chancellor finding him a somewhat creepy man. As the plain clothed officer led her into the reception area, a woman with oversized glasses and an undersized white blouse stretched across her more than ample breasts sat behind a desk. Without saying anything to the officer or Barb she picked up the phone and waited for answer. All she said was ‘she’s here’ then hung up. She looked up at the officer and said “He’s waiting for her.”

Barb was led into the chancellor’s office and could not believe what she saw.



Chancellor Wragg was sitting at a table finishing his lunch bracketed by his very naked assistant Ulrika and the assistant professor Joan Tree. He was wearing a very religious-looking outfit. He wiped his mouth and said “Professor Moore welcome! Officer, I don’t think those handcuffs are necessary! Please remove them!”

He did so as Chancellor Wragg continued. “Professor Moore, I do hope you are planning to attend the faculty barbeque tomorrow.”

Professor Moore rubbed her wrists, tender from the tight steel of the cuffs, and said “I am.”

“Excellent, you do know this is the last spit roast of a ‘long pig’, yes?”

“I am aware of that. I didn’t see the announcement of what student ‘won’ the lottery” Barb replied.

Chancellor Wragg clapped his hands then rubbed them together. He said “This is where things get interesting. You see both the head of the board of alumni donors and the president of the student union requested that for the last spit-roast of the faculty barbeque it would be appropriate we roasted a faculty member. And Barbara- if I may address you by your first name- the student union and the board of alumni donors picked you! Now if you would strip, please.”

Barb looked around and saw the cop already had his TASER drawn. There was no escape. She began to strip.



When she finished her wrist again cuffed behind her back. She looked at Chancellor Wragg and asked “I don’t suppose you are going to take me out the back way.”

“I think not; a long pig’s only dignity is her body. And Barb, yours is fine!”

“I’m so pleased you approve” Barb replied…


Tree

 

[thehangingtree]

As bad as it was to be taken to the chancellor’s office dressed but handcuffed being taken out naked and cuffed was by far worse. The bastard Despard Wragg decided to ‘lay claim’ on his ‘long pig’ (me) by pushing me over his desk and raping me. At least I will die knowing I am better at sex than he is. How long did he last; maybe two minutes? None the less, I am led naked though the halls of the administration building of the University of the Virgin Martyrs with his vile ejaculate dripping down my thighs. The faculty and staff no longer hide their scorn of me and openly mock me while strangely discussing me as an object. Why not- I am tomorrow’s barbecue, nothing more.

I am taken to the Hill’s Butcher Shop that had become famous during the era of ‘women as meat’ and I don’t mean just being ogled!!!

A guard leads me to a holding pen and removes my cuffs. ‘Get in, meat!’ she orders.



Both in fear and hope I ask if Merle himself would spit me. She shakes her head as the barred door slams shut and lock clicks. She explains “Merle Hill died long ago when the ‘long pig’ roast became illegal. But don’t worry, cunt, there are rich people that once they had a taste of a long pig could afford to have clandestine he taught his sons and grandsons how to do it. You get to do it the ‘old fashion’ way- A manual spitting.”

“I am to be honored by that?” I ask angrily.

“I really don’t care. Compared to a sow you lack meat.”

I am offered my last meal and it has been both a long time since I last ate and it was great food. After I finish eating the big university donors parade past my pen. I recognize many of them. I have at least dined with more than half of them. Not one of talk to me, only about me. The last in line has a cowboy hat on his head and aviator shades hiding his eyes. A blood-splattered duster hangs from his shoulders.

He passes me a pack of cigarettes and lights one for himself from a crumpled pack in his pocket. He hands me the lighter and says “hang on to it; I’ve got another.”

I look at the Zippo with case engraved with the initials ‘THT’. I look at him say “First, I don’t smoke. And second I have no idea who you are.”

“Those are ‘Madame Wu Blunts’. As long as you going to be alive I would take up smoking. It won’t kill you. Most people call me ‘Tree’. Does it matter? You aren’t going to live long enough to go on a date.”

I light up a one of his smokes he gave me. Oh, my, I may have to take these up!!!



Then I ask him “I don’t know who you are. Did you just pay to see me spitted?”

“Women will never understand men” he says as he shuffles off. “It ain’t just ‘men don’t understand women’."

I wish we could have a longer conversation about this…


Tree

 

[Barbaria1]

As bad as it was to be taken to the chancellor’s office dressed but handcuffed being taken out naked and cuffed was by far worse. The bastard Despard Wragg decided to ‘lay claim’ on his ‘long pig’ (me) by pushing me over his desk and raping me. At least I will die knowing I am better at sex than he is. How long did he last; maybe two minutes? None the less, I am led naked though the halls of the administration building of the University of the Virgin Martyrs with his vile ejaculate dripping down my thighs. The faculty and staff no longer hide their scorn of me and openly mock me while strangely discussing me as an object. Why not- I am tomorrow’s barbecue, nothing more.

I am taken to the Hill’s Butcher Shop that had become famous during the era of ‘women as meat’ and I don’t mean just being ogled!!!

A guard leads me to a holding pen and removes my cuffs. ‘Get in, meat!’ she orders.

View attachment 245495

Both in fear and hope I ask if Merle himself would spit me. She shakes her head as the barred door slams shut and lock clicks. She explains “Merle Hill died long ago when the ‘long pig’ roast became illegal. But don’t worry, cunt, there are rich people that once they had a taste of a long pig could afford to have clandestine he taught his sons and grandsons how to do it. You get to do it the ‘old fashion’ way- A manual spitting.”

“I am to be honored by that?” I ask angrily.

“I really don’t care. Compared to a sow you lack meat.”

I am offered my last meal and it has been both a long time since I last ate and it was great food. After I finish eating the big university donors parade past my pen. I recognize many of them. I have at least dined with more than half of them. Not one of talk to me, only about me. The last in line has a cowboy hat on his head and aviator shades hiding his eyes. A blood-splattered duster hangs from his shoulders.

He passes me a pack of cigarettes and lights one for himself from a crumpled pack in his pocket. He hands me the lighter and says “hang on to it; I’ve got another.”

I look at the Zippo with case engraved with the initials ‘THT’. I look at him say “First, I don’t smoke. And second I have no idea who you are.”

“Those are ‘Madame Wu Blunts’. As long as you going to be alive I would take up smoking. It won’t kill you. Most people call me ‘Tree’. Does it matter? You aren’t going to live long enough to go on a date.”

I light up a one of his smokes he gave me. Oh, my, I may have to take these up!!!

View attachment 245494

Then I ask him “I don’t know who you are. Did you just pay to see me spitted?”

“Women will never understand men” he says as he shuffles off. “It ain’t just ‘men don’t understand women’."

I wish we could have a longer conversation about this…


Tree

Eat your heart out Dolcett....very inventive and fun Tree

 

[thehangingtree]

Eat your heart out Dolcett....very inventive and fun Tree

It has been a different thing to write about and I have liked doing it.

A few thoughts...

When Wragg was first participating at CF he seemed like such a nice guy. What the hell happened to him???

This is a tribute to Dolcett whose work brought out my inner kink.

And Barb, I think you should worry more about someone literally eating your heart... it is a delicacy in some circles...

Tree

 

[Wragg]

When Wragg was first participating at CF he seemed like such a nice guy. What the hell happened to him???


Tree

He met some guy called 'Tree'

 

[Eulalia]

Eat your heart out Dolcett....

 

[thehangingtree]

I don’t sleep much that night. I suppose you can understand why since tomorrow I will be skewered with a two inch spit run through my body and will be cooked over hot coals. It doesn’t help that before he left for the day Merle Hill III looked through the bars at me and said “You will make a great roaster. I think from the time you are skewered to the time you lose consciousness will be at least an hour. You will certainly be around long enough to feel your skin brown.”

I asked him how he learned to live spit women since I could tell he was younger than me and the only live spitting for the decade was at the university and I had never seen him. He started to answer then said “I’ll tell you after you are spitted. Then it will be our secret.”

The light never goes out. Tomorrow… maybe today by now… I will have a spit run through my body and have been assured I will still be alive when I am being roasted! I go to the stainless steel commode. My gut is full from my last supper but I have long ago noticed the compact cameras with their glowing red LED lights confirming everything I do is being watched. I can’t release.



In high school I was a bit of a rebel and my parents sent me to a training school for ‘delinquents’ run by the OPP (Order of Penance and Punishment for the newbies… no, Ulrika they are not Dominican nuns…) for a month. The common bathroom had no private stalls and I couldn’t go while being watched. The damn nuns lined up all my ‘classmates’ in the exercise yard and with my hands bound behind my back gave me an enema with them all watching. Damn, do I have to relive that?



I guess it is morning. They cuff my wrists behind me and walk me pass the old ‘sow’ holding pens. ‘How many have been spitted before me’ I wonder. I guess I should be honored I will be the last ‘long sow’ legally spitted but somehow it doesn’t make me feel any better.


I am placed on a stand and some bureaucrat reads that I have been declared meat to be spit and roasted. She askes if I understand what she has just said. Absently I say “I am not stupid; do what you must.”

I stare at the door…




Tree

 

[thehangingtree]

'night all...

Tree