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Ku Krux Klan

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Barbaria1 said:
14. High noon. The work details have returned to Crux Hill Correctional Farm, but rather than proceeding directly to the mess hall the prisoners have been drawn up in neat ranks on the parade ground ... everyone facing the gallows, women on the left, men on the right.

View attachment 321031 They lead me out across the parade ground, passing between the ranks, positioning me out front of everyone at the very foot of the scaffold, Clem at my side, holding my arm in his iron grip, a fellow guide close by. I am naked, and in shackles.

Three hooded executioners wait above on the scaffold as my three "freedom rider" friends ... condemned to die for allegedly helping me escape from the "Farm" last night ... are led up the steps on the right side. They are naked, wrists bound tightly behind their backs.

The executioners take charge of the condemned as they arrive, positioning each of them over one of the three hinged trapdoors in the scaffold decking, slipping nooses over their heads, and tightening the nooses near their left ears.

I have never witnessed a hanging. I watch the preparations with morbid fascination, but also with gut-wrenching guilt and a gnawing sense of regret. These our my "freedom rider" friends, girls who left their quiet and secure college campus life and joined in the cause of combating racial injustice with a commitment as deep as my own.

I feel guilt over how my own rebellious impetuousness has put them up on that scaffold to die for me. They are innocent. I regret the fact that I never got to know them well. Sure, we rode the bus, sang songs, protested together, but I never really talked with them.

I turn to Clem and say, "You know they had nothing whatsoever to do with my escape last night. Executing them as accomplices just isn't right. Isn't there anything I can do or say to save them?"

"No, nothing. Warden says they must hang, as an object lesson to all prisoners."

"Even sweet, innocent Thessela over on the left?"

"No exceptions, Moore"

"But what about me?" And what about my other three friends?"

"I wouldn't be so quick to assume you have any friends here Moore. But to answer your question, you and the other three will die tonight."

"Why not now?"

"Two reasons. First, there are only three nooses up there AND second, a special "after dark" execution awaits you and the other three. Now, shut up and watch!"

The time has come. The girls on the stage know it. The fidget nervously, shifting their feet and twisting around nervously to look up at the long ropes that lead from the nooses around their necks up to the heavy gallows beam overhead.

One of the executioners passes in front of them, offering each a drag on his lit cigarette. He gets no takers, shrugs and nonchalantly walks over to the lever that releases the trap doors under their feet.

The moment has come. Tears run down cheeks. The one on the right, who had spoken to me so harshly in the cellar, begins to blubber and beg for mercy. The one in the center, stares straight ahead, a tear running down her cheek. Thessela opens her mouth to bravely declare. "We have no choice, but we shall overco.......awrkkkkk."

The trap doors fall open with a snap and a bang and all three plummet through, but their drop is abruptly cut short by a lack of slack in the suspending ropes.

View attachment 321030 I watch in horror as they dance the slow dance of death, silhouetted high above me against a bright blue Mississippi midday sky.

Their movements are desperately frantic. They kick, twist and jerk about wildly. Sometimes they move their legs like they are running a race; at times they rest and hang limply, only to resume their desperate struggles once again.

They bump against one another. Their breasts and ass cheeks shake and quiver with each frantic move. For a while the one in the middle locks her legs around poor Thessela and tries to leverage herself up to relieve the pressure on her neck.

Gradually the girls weaken. Sweat sheens their nude panting bodies, their faces contort and redden. All movement finally ceases, as one by one they give up the struggle and three still bodies slowly twirl at the end of their ropes.

The smell of pee and excrement drifts slowly in the heated still air. I wretch, close my eyes tight, and hang my head.

The warden appears, struts across the scaffold, pokes at each corpse with his little riding crop. Satisfied he turns, comes to attention facing the silently cowed prisoners on the parade ground below, and bellows, "Dismissed."

The ranks dissolve, though few head for the mess hall.

"Come with me Moore," says Clem, tugging at my arm, "it's back to the cellar for you until dark."

TO BE CONTINUED
Click to expand...
Damm good story B!

We perverts are desperatly awaiting the 'after dark story'............

Will you be crucified in a traditional way then set ablaze.....?

c23458022fb29d628d6261b79ec6cccb.741x448x1.png
 
Barbaria1 said:
14. High noon. The work details have returned to Crux Hill Correctional Farm, but rather than proceeding directly to the mess hall the prisoners have been drawn up in neat ranks on the parade ground ... everyone facing the gallows, women on the left, men on the right.

View attachment 321031 They lead me out across the parade ground, passing between the ranks, positioning me out front of everyone at the very foot of the scaffold, Clem at my side, holding my arm in his iron grip, a fellow guide close by. I am naked, and in shackles.

Three hooded executioners wait above on the scaffold as my three "freedom rider" friends ... condemned to die for allegedly helping me escape from the "Farm" last night ... are led up the steps on the right side. They are naked, wrists bound tightly behind their backs.

The executioners take charge of the condemned as they arrive, positioning each of them over one of the three hinged trapdoors in the scaffold decking, slipping nooses over their heads, and tightening the nooses near their left ears.

I have never witnessed a hanging. I watch the preparations with morbid fascination, but also with gut-wrenching guilt and a gnawing sense of regret. These our my "freedom rider" friends, girls who left their quiet and secure college campus life and joined in the cause of combating racial injustice with a commitment as deep as my own.

I feel guilt over how my own rebellious impetuousness has put them up on that scaffold to die for me. They are innocent. I regret the fact that I never got to know them well. Sure, we rode the bus, sang songs, protested together, but I never really talked with them.

I turn to Clem and say, "You know they had nothing whatsoever to do with my escape last night. Executing them as accomplices just isn't right. Isn't there anything I can do or say to save them?"

"No, nothing. Warden says they must hang, as an object lesson to all prisoners."

"Even sweet, innocent Thessela over on the left?"

"No exceptions, Moore"

"But what about me?" And what about my other three friends?"

"I wouldn't be so quick to assume you have any friends here Moore. But to answer your question, you and the other three will die tonight."

"Why not now?"

"Two reasons. First, there are only three nooses up there AND second, a special "after dark" execution awaits you and the other three. Now, shut up and watch!"

The time has come. The girls on the stage know it. The fidget nervously, shifting their feet and twisting around nervously to look up at the long ropes that lead from the nooses around their necks up to the heavy gallows beam overhead.

One of the executioners passes in front of them, offering each a drag on his lit cigarette. He gets no takers, shrugs and nonchalantly walks over to the lever that releases the trap doors under their feet.

The moment has come. Tears run down cheeks. The one on the right, who had spoken to me so harshly in the cellar, begins to blubber and beg for mercy. The one in the center, stares straight ahead, a tear running down her cheek. Thessela opens her mouth to bravely declare. "We have no choice, but we shall overco.......awrkkkkk."

The trap doors fall open with a snap and a bang and all three plummet through, but their drop is abruptly cut short by a lack of slack in the suspending ropes.

View attachment 321030 I watch in horror as they dance the slow dance of death, silhouetted high above me against a bright blue Mississippi midday sky.

Their movements are desperately frantic. They kick, twist and jerk about wildly. Sometimes they move their legs like they are running a race; at times they rest and hang limply, only to resume their desperate struggles once again.

They bump against one another. Their breasts and ass cheeks shake and quiver with each frantic move. For a while the one in the middle locks her legs around poor Thessela and tries to leverage herself up to relieve the pressure on her neck.

Gradually the girls weaken. Sweat sheens their nude panting bodies, their faces contort and redden. All movement finally ceases, as one by one they give up the struggle and three still bodies slowly twirl at the end of their ropes.

The smell of pee and excrement drifts slowly in the heated still air. I wretch, close my eyes tight, and hang my head.

The warden appears, struts across the scaffold, pokes at each corpse with his little riding crop. Satisfied he turns, comes to attention facing the silently cowed prisoners on the parade ground below, and bellows, "Dismissed."

The ranks dissolve, though few head for the mess hall.

"Come with me Moore," says Clem, tugging at my arm, "it's back to the cellar for you until dark."

TO BE CONTINUED
Click to expand...


Grrrrrrr! :mad:


Grrrrrrrr!:mad:

Grrrrrreat, Barb! :clapping:
 
I try to be brave, but I am so frightened!
Standing here, naked, bound, my sisters by my side.
We don't deserve this! We were trying to do good.
It is so unjust.
I look at Barb, I forgive her for her mistakes.
I take strength from her spirit!
I feel the rope around my bare neck, the time has come.
Our cause is just, we will overco-aaaawk!
 
Thessela said:
I try to be brave, but I am so frightened!
Standing here, naked, bound, my sisters by my side.
We don't deserve this! We were trying to do good.
It is so unjust.
I look at Barb, I forgive her for her mistakes.
I take strength from her spirit!
I feel the rope around my bare neck, the time has come.
Our cause is just, we will overco-aaaawk!
Click to expand...

We will overcork? :confused:

A basic bar girl blunder :p
 
Thessela said:
I try to be brave, but I am so frightened!
Standing here, naked, bound, my sisters by my side.
We don't deserve this! We were trying to do good.
It is so unjust.
I look at Barb, I forgive her for her mistakes.
I take strength from her spirit!
I feel the rope around my bare neck, the time has come.
Our cause is just, we will overco-aaaawk!
Click to expand...

So honest, so innocent, so sweet, so dead :(
 
Barbaria1 said:
So honest, so innocent, so sweet, so dead :(
Click to expand...
Barbaria1 said:
Come on now ... this is serious ... :spank:
Click to expand...

006.jpg

Come on, you dumbasses, Barb is about to get her neck 'adjusted' by a KKK chiropractor and you make jokes. Sit down, have a Marlboro Gold (I brought back to 1961 from the future) and a Seagram's and let's see if a hemp 'necktie' can shut this bitch up!!!

Love always

Tree
 
thehangingtree said:
View attachment 321073

Come on, you dumbasses, Barb is about to get her neck 'adjusted' by a KKK chiropractor and you make jokes. Sit down, have a Marlboro Gold (I brought back to 1961 from the future) and a Seagram's and let's see if a hemp 'necktie' can shut this bitch up!!!

Love always

Tree
Click to expand...
In '61, the hemp might be on offer to smoke with the Seagrams :p
 
15. Back in the cellar, and still in a mind-numbing state of shock after watching three of my "freedom rider" friends meet their untimely end swinging from the end of a gallows rope, I am shoved up against a wall by Clem, who swiftly cuffs and chains my wrists to an iron ring above my head. My remaining three friends are also there, similarly restrained.

barb temp.jpg The Warden comes in to check on us. He surveys all four and then plants himself in front of me, hands on hips, smug smile on his face, cigarette dangling from his mouth. Looking at me thoughtfully, he inserts the tip of his short riding crop between my thighs.

Slowly he brings it upward, sliding its supple tip through the gap between my labia and up and over the meaty flesh of my mound.

I shudder as he traces a thin line across my flattened belly and on up my chest to a point midway between my breasts, where he stops momentarily before detouring left and then right to teasingly circle and flick at each of my erect tumescent nipples. The tip of the crop then grazes my neck and finally comes to rest just under my chin, where he uses it to raise my head and force me to look into his eyes.

"Well Miss Moore. So we meet again. I understand you decided to take a little powder last night. Unfortunately it ended badly and here you are."

"You're an evil man, Warden! You set me up, didn't you? I hope you rot in Hell someday."

"Perhaps I will Miss Moore, but not before I have the pleasure of watching you and your friends suffer and die tonight ... because you see, Miss Moore, we have something very special in store for you."

With that, he abruptly withdraws the tip of his riding crop from where it has been making a deep impression in the soft skin under my chin, opens the cap on his hip flask, takes a good long swig, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and spits in my face.

I glare at him as he turns and leaves. Clem follows him. The light goes out and I am left in total darkness along with the other three girls. No one speaks. There is nothing to say. We are left to our own thoughts and fears.

Hours go by. My arms, legs and back ache from hanging by my wrists. From time to time I hear chains clinking and rustling as one of the others, somewhere in the darkness shifts position. Occasionally someone moans or coughs, or sobs softly to herself.

Then the lights snap on, boots descend the stairs, and the cellar fills with men wearing white sheets and hoods.

"Oooie, will you look at those jugs on that one," exclaims one of them in an excited high pitched drawl.

"Nathan!" I think, instantly recognizing his voice from my time in the town jail two days ago.

One man, who wears a sheet and hood adorned with some kind of strange insignia seems to be in charge. He curtly orders the Klansmen to take us down and get us into the "veehickles."

My wrists are uncuffed and I am manhandled up the stairs and out into the muggy night air.

staked 010 a.jpg Under the glare of the parade ground arc lights, eager hands hoist me into the back of a pick up truck, and throw me down on the hard metal bed, while another gags and spread-eagles me by securing my hands and feet to the sides of the box.

Then the klansmen whoop and shout excitedly as they mount the trucks, which roar off in column through the open gates of the Crux Hill Correctional Farm.

I lie on my back as the pickup bounces down a rough country road. Half a dozen white-hooded faces look down on me. I gasp at the sight of the sinister and menacing gleam in their eyes as they ogle me through the rough-cut openings in their hoods.

The sky is clear. Stars shine brightly overhead. As the truck roars on into the night, headed for some unknown destination, the Klansmen gather around me, pour copious quantities of liquor from their hip flasks over my nude body, pinch and tug at my my nipples, roughly paw and poke with hands and fingers at my pussy, and shout "Yankee whore" and "nigger lover" as they each take their turn.

TO BE CONTINUED

(thanks again to THT for supplying the manips)
 
Last edited:
Barb will fuck anyone, even redneck bigoted Klan men, and then whines 'I was defenseless! They raped me!' when she really wanted it...

T
 
Barbaria1 said:
15. Back in the cellar, and still in a mind-numbing state of shock after watching three of my "freedom rider" friends meet their untimely end swinging from the end of a gallows rope, I am shoved up against a wall by Clem, who swiftly cuffs and chains my wrists to an iron ring above my head. My remaining three friends are also there, similarly restrained.

View attachment 321608 The Warden comes in to check on us. He surveys all four and then plants himself in front of me, hands on hips, smug smile on his face, cigarette dangling from his mouth. Looking at me thoughtfully, he inserts the tip of his short riding crop between my thighs.

Slowly he brings it upward, sliding its supple tip through the gap between my labia and up and over the meaty flesh of my mound.

I shudder as he traces a thin line across my flattened belly and on up my chest to a point midway between my breasts, where he stops momentarily before detouring left and then right to teasingly circle and flick at each of my erect tumescent nipples. The tip of the crop then grazes my neck and finally comes to rest just under my chin, where he uses it to raise my head and force me to look into his eyes.

"Well Miss Moore. So we meet again. I understand you decided to take a little powder last night. Unfortunately it ended badly and here you are."

"You're an evil man, Warden! You set me up, didn't you? I hope you rot in Hell someday."

"Perhaps I will Miss Moore, but not before I have the pleasure of watching you and your friends suffer and die tonight ... because you see, Miss Moore, we have something very special in store for you."

With that, he abruptly withdraws the tip of his riding crop from where it has been making a deep impression in the soft skin under my chin, opens the cap on his hip flask, takes a good long swig, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and spits in my face.

I glare at him as he turns and leaves. Clem follows him. The light goes out and I am left in total darkness along with the other three girls. No one speaks. There is nothing to say. We are left to our own thoughts and fears.

Hours go by. My arms, legs and back ache from hanging by my wrists. From time to time I hear chains clinking and rustling as one of the others, somewhere in the darkness shifts position. Occasionally someone moans or coughs, or sobs softly to herself.

Then the lights snap on, boots descend the stairs, and the cellar fills with men wearing white sheets and hoods.

"Oooie, will you look at those jugs on that one," exclaims one of them in an excited high pitched drawl.

"Nathan!" I think, instantly recognizing his voice from my time in the town jail two days ago.

One man, who wears a sheet and hood adorned with some kind of strange insignia seems to be in charge. He curtly orders the Klansmen to take us down and get us into the "veehickles."

My wrists are uncuffed and I am manhandled up the stairs and out into the muggy night air.

View attachment 321595 Under the glare of the parade ground arc lights, eager hands hoist me into the back of a pick up truck, and throw me down on the hard metal bed, while another gags and spread-eagles me by securing my hands and feet to the sides of the box.

Then the klansmen whoop and shout excitedly as they mount the trucks, which roar off in column through the open gates of the Crux Hill Correctional Farm.

I lie on my back as the pickup bounces down a rough country road. Half a dozen white-hooded faces look down on me. I gasp at the sight of the sinister and menacing gleam in their eyes as they ogle me through the rough-cut openings in their hoods.

The sky is clear. Stars shine brightly overhead. As the truck roars on into the night, headed for some unknown destination, the Klansmen gather around me, pour copious quantities of liquor from their hip flasks over my nude body, pinch and tug at my my nipples, roughly paw and poke with hands and fingers at my pussy, and shout "Yankee whore" and "nigger lover" as they each take their turn.

TO BE CONTINUED

(thanks again to THT for supplying the manips)
Click to expand...
thehangingtree said:
Barb will fuck anyone, even redneck bigoted Klan men, and then whines 'I was defenseless! They raped me!' when she really wanted it...

T
Click to expand...

Pouring good liquor over a doomed girl! :eek:

Uh-oh! :eek:

:attention:
 
I think I found a picture smuggled out of your camp, Barb

Synthean-370830-Guest_Workers.jpg
 
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