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Settantuno's Drawings

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Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
Powerful stuff,PrPr.
Is Mamat a considerate boss, or is he not into anal sex, seeing he has allowed Imram to use poor Barb`s ass first.
Maybe he is saving Barb for some enthusiastic fellatio! She`ll hate that.
I think that Mamat, like me, does not find the "rear door" the most enticing approach to a beautiful woman. As far as Imran having first shot, you must recall in Singapore II, when Josephine requests a "punishment rape" for Barbara by a dozen guards, that it was mostly very rough double or even triple penetration. Sett captured the moment leading up to the painful second insertion excellently:


And here I was thinking Barbara would make a great cheerleader -

Lima Puluh Dua

Cell 22 Death Row, Changi Prison, Wednesday, April 3rd, 8:00 AM
Barbara was pacing her tiny cell. She’s finished breakfast, and now with nothing to do, her mind was drawn forty-eight hours ahead to her next caning on Friday. Though the sores on her ass had healed under the care of Dr. Liú, it was still very tender and sore. The deep bruising was far from fully healed. How could she stand another assault on that tender flesh?
Few minutes after eight, Imran entered with two others. They shackled her, as he explained. “The Commandant wants to see you. Very special, he says.”
When they did not give her a shift, Barb dared ask why.
“Please, Sir. May I have my shift?”
“No more clothes. You now ten days to execution. This time, all condemned are naked all time. Remind you that you are now worthless.”
Barb gave a little sob as they hooded her and led her by the leash from the cell.
It was a long walk down many corridors. Much further than Moore remembered to get to the Commandant’s office. Her hands and knees and arms and legs ached from the unnatural gait.

At last, they went through a doorway and halted. The Commandant spoke.
“Well, here is the Princess. What makes you so thick-headed, Moore? Do you like it when we punish you? Is that it; you like pain?”
“No, sorry, sir.” Barb had no idea what to say.
“Do you think you’re too good for this place? You deserve special treatment? You are condemned to a slow, lingering death in ten days. I would think you know you are nothing more here that a piece of shit!”
“I’m sorry, sir! Please, I’m sorry!” Though Barb did not know what he was talking about, her terror was almost out of control.
“Oh, I bet you’re sorry now, you fucking bitch! I give you just a simple, easy job, and you go and try to humiliate me!” Mamat voice was rising to almost a shout. Barb had never heard him be so emotional. That scared her to death!
“Please, please, let me make it up! Please, I’ll do better! Please tell me what I’ve done,” she pleaded.
“Too late for that bitch. I’ve been shamed in front of a Cabinet Minister, and you did it on purpose. Now you are going to pay for your shitty attitude and your constant resistance!” Mamat controlled his voice and spoke to the guards. “Parrot Perch.”

Barbara felt many hands grab her arms and legs and carry her a short distance.
“Are you familiar with the “Parrot Perch, Miss Moore?” The Commandant's voice had regained much of its control. But she could hear palpable hatred in his words. That frightened her worse than anything.
“No, sir.”
“Think of the image of a parrot sitting on perch, holding on with his claws. Then invert it; he hangs by his claws. Not precise, but it evokes the scene.”

Meanwhile, the guards set her on her butt with her shackled legs drawn up. They pulled her cuffed wrists over her knees and down her shins, making her body tightly bent. She felt a bar, sliding across under her knees but above her forearms. The bar was pulled up, so it lodged just at the back of her knees. This position was already uncomfortable.
Barbara heard Imran report, “Prisoner secured and ready, Commandant.”
“Lift her.” Mamat had controlled himself. He spoke in his low, soft but firm voice of command.
Imran said, “1…2…3,” and strong arms slowly lifted the bar. Hands cradled her head and shoulders to avoid hitting the floor as her body swung down with most of her weight on the back of her knees.
“Easy,” said Imran as she could feel the bar being placed on something. “Lock it.” clamps snapped, and the hands supporting her head were removed. Barbara hung from the bar, swinging down, hooded head hanging, and all her weight on the back of her knees.

The pain of the position quickly took hold, arms, and legs cramping while the knee joints felt like they were about to be ripped out. Barbara groaned through the stifling hood.
She heard the voice of Mamat, close beside her. “I only asked that you please my guests, do whatever they want. This morning the Minister calls and says his son was sulking all night. Finally, he told his father, ‘Some cheap slut cheerleader you got to teach me. A few fucks, and she sent me away like I wasn’t good enough for her! She was as bad as those stuck-up girls in school.’ The boy is less confident of his manhood than before he met you.”
God, thought Barb. “I didn’t mean that! I tried to help him! I did! I’m sorry!”
“Too late now, you fucking whore. You shamed me, and you will make it better right now. I’m taping this and live streaming it to the boy and his father. Only when they are satisfied will I let you down.”
Barb heard the confident footsteps walk away and a door close.
“God, help me!” she screamed through the tight hood. “It hurts!”
“Of course it hurts,” laughed Imran. "Like the stress positions, it just keeps hurting more. But with this, you don’t even have the opportunity to collapse.”
“Nooooooo!” wailed Moore in pain and despair.
..“Parrot Perch”



Perhaps some here are not familiar with Figg, which is totally unrelated to the fruit, fig. It derives from the older English word, feague (“to give a better appearance through artificial means”). That word seems to come from the Dutch vegen (“to sweep, wipe”) - see @Eulalia for more detail. It was used in 18th century England describing the dishonest practice of putting ginger root into a horse's anus to cause it to carry its tail high and act lively. It is regarded today as a form of animal cruelty. However, it is popular in some BDSM play. It is believed that 'fake', used by criminal since at least 1775 to denote a false or fraudulent item derives from feague.


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