This is a repost my story 2 segments ago with all the correct pictures...(#253 above, there is no new text...)
Next day at class…
I am brought to a field in something one might get married in except for the belt around my waist and the handcuffs, unless it was a ‘Tree family wedding’- I might fit in there. I am brought from the car and find a couple hundred of my former students surrounding me and a vacant post with ropes that I can only assume are waiting for my wrists.. I fallen from their instructor and a premier leader at the University of the Virgin Martyrs to an object of the lust and distain of the students I recently lectured.
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The cuffs are removed followed by the belt. I am ordered to remove the top of this ridiculous costume and to go to the post. There is no escape and no purpose in inviting any more of Joan Tree’s wrath. Bare chested I walk to the massive post…
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I raise my arms and two men in monk’s garments fix my wrist to post. As they work the knots I smell the fresh blood on the wood that is both rough and polished by the flesh of women that have preceded me. Between my toes I feel the ooze off excrement that overwhelms my senses and pray I won’t add to the pile on the rock.
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At least the bastards wore sandals that might have been worn to an event like this. I get pissed off when men wear tennis shoes to these reenactments…
The full skirt is pulled for my hips and I stand naked on the stone bound to this foul post. I hope they enjoy the show. One of the ‘monks’ whips me with a flogger…
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…while the other uses a bullwhip. Joan Tree narrates my suffering. So kind of her…. And yes, they beat me hard enough I shit and pissed for them…
Barbaria
I look lovely in all four, don't you think?