Naraku
Draconarius
Yeah, nothing suspicious about that.
In reality, wrong way driving can be a very serious crime.
http://video.tampabay.com/Disturbing-raw-video-I275-wrongway-crash-kills-5-25604657
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Traffic Violation Saturday
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
http://video.tampabay.com/Disturbing-raw-video-I275-wrongway-crash-kills-5-25604657
A wrong way crash can be a serious crime but Ms. Moore only a half-block to park in front of the Nailus Martyrs store where she picked up a few 'things'...Yeah, nothing suspicious about that.
In reality, wrong way driving can be a very serious crime.
http://video.tampabay.com/Disturbing-raw-video-I275-wrongway-crash-kills-5-25604657
A warning would have sufficed though I am not complaining!!!
Naraku
Draconarius
In driving just two miles from my house to Applebee's this evening, on a four lane road with a center "suicide lane"; I saw one car make a u-turn from the southbound right lane to the northbound right lane and another car make a right turn from the left turn lane...
We're gonna need a lot more crosses.
We're gonna need a lot more crosses.
You would not see such things going to 'White Castle' (before 2 AM)...
Naraku
Draconarius
Does anyone go to White Castle before 2 AM?
Their breakfast beats McDonalds and it you are constipated they are what you crave...Does anyone go to White Castle at all
Hey, the question was asked...
T
jacksjg89
PROCRASTINATOR
Nope. Viva la taco trucks!Does anyone go to White Castle at all
Leave my sister alone!!!
jacksjg89
PROCRASTINATOR
I may need this joke explained
I have a sister that lives in LA... Sorry for the fact... no joke intended...
LittleSiss
Sorceress
Is that a 'yes' or 'no'???
Sorry but I am a guy .... My learning curve is pretty flat...
Goodnight all
jacksjg89
PROCRASTINATOR
Ah. I see. I also have a few sisters that live near, near the coffee shop.
Traffic Violation Saturday ... Part 2.
By a little past eleven that morning all five rows of crosses had been filled, and throngs of onlookers had descended on Kellogg Park.
They strolled up and down amongst the crosses, rubber necking and gawking as though this was some kind of carnival attraction. Some stopped to stare, others passed quickly by as though they found the whole scene discomforting, even though they had obviously made the effort to come.
Many of the men came to ogle ... tell-tale lumps in the front of their shorts or trousers advertised the fact that they found the public display of so many women bound to crosses profoundly arousing. Gangs of younger men roamed about, taking the opportunity to joke and ridicule ... finding enjoyment in shouting taunts and crudities at the indecently exposed and crucified women. It was humiliating.
By that time, I had been hanging on my cross for more than an hour, and the strain was beginning to take its toll. Following the advice of the policeman who spoke to me earlier, I was trying hard to pace myself, resisting the urge to push up for a fresh lungful of air any more often than necessary.
Hanging from a cross was extremely uncomfortable. My arms ached terribly from bearing the weight of my body. The ropes that bound my wrists dug deeply into my flesh. Blood was smeared on my wrists and forearms.
And whenever I felt the need to push up, my thigh muscles would cramp from the stress of holding myself upright and erect with only that small angled block beneath my feet to offer any purchase of support.
I could last in that upright position for at best a minute before my trembling body swung out from the cross, twisting and writhing helplessly from side to side. Then my knees would buckle and I'd come crashing down to a knees-bent position, smashing my tailbone in the process against the hard wooden upright and forcing the ropes binding my wrists to dig in even more painfully.
Desperate for distraction, I decided to strike up a conversation with the blond girl on the cross next to mine. I remembered her from the park entrance registration line. She was the one who had pulled four hours for parking in a no-parking zone.
"Hey," I called to her, surprised at how my voice rasped. The temperature in the sun-baked clearing was climbing fast and my throat was parched.
"Hey yourself," she responded a few moments later after slumping down on her cross.
"Is this your first time?"
"No, it's my fifth offense."
"I'm Barb," I offered, not knowing quite how to respond to that piece of information.
"I know," she said.
"What? How do you know who I am?"
"Well, the matron said it out loud, but I also knew because I work as an assistant to you in your university lab.
I looked again, feeling foolish for not recognizing her earlier ... but then, after all, I was new on the job and so was she, and besides this was a rather unusual situation.
Yes, it was her! But as I gazed at her panting body, I noticed something I had missed earlier ... her panties were gone ... the girl next to me was stark naked!
"Where did your panties go? Did they take them from you?" I croaked, thinking that was certainly rather rude of them.
"No, I traded them for a two-hour reduction in my sentence. If you go naked, the matrons are always willing to knock off a little cross time. Didn't they give you the option?"
I looked around, my eyes roving quickly up and down the rows of crosses, noting that more than half the women had been crucified nude!
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!" I exclaimed. "No, nothing was said to me about that."
"Newbie!" she replied, gritting her teeth as she tottered and swung out in my direction prior to slumping again.
"So, can I still do it?" I asked, starting to push myself up again, thighs and arms screaming in protest.
"I suppose so. You'll have to talk to one of the matrons. Might be difficult to get their attention as they will be busy getting some of the women down whose time is up. And besides, they'll be getting ready for the mayor and a party of dignitaries who will be here this afternoon. The success of the new traffic violation reduction program has been attracting a lot of attention. I heard that camera crews from the news media will be here too, and the mayor's party will include the Governor, and a Congressman.
"News media? Ummmmm ... maybe I'll think a bit about whether I really want to lose my kinis."
Within an hour they had come to take my blond neighbor down. She bid me farewell as she limped away. Her cross was left empty, as were several others. I thought some more about the desirability of shortening the length of my sentence.
The midday sun had soon reached its zenith. The heat was unbearable. There was no breeze. It had to be the muggiest day if the year. Sweat covered my brow and stung my eyes. My sodden hair was plastered to my face, neck and shoulders.
I felt woozy. My head lolled from side to side. Looking down as my chin came to rest on my chest, I watched as tiny rivulets of sweat ran down my mounded breasts, snaking around my tumescent nipples.
A man in a yellow hat had taken up position nearby as though he was on some kind of vigil. He watched me intently, taking long drags on his cigarette as I struggled ...dancing and writhing ... on my cross. He seemed to think my antics were a show put on exclusively for his enjoyment.
A group of people came through on some kind of tour. Their guide lectured them on the effectiveness of public humiliation as a deterrent to crime. Pointing up at me, she directed their attention to my placard. The tourists read it, oooed and awwwed, whispered among themselves and then whipped out cameras and smart phones to snap pictures.
More time passed. I was getting desperate. Then I saw two matrons were making there way in my direction. I pushed myself up shakily and called out to them.
"Hey, sorry to complain, but I can't take much more of this! The heat is killing me. Isn't there some way I could get my sentence shortened ... like giving up my panties? I've been told that can be done."
The matrons came closer. One was new to me, but the other one I recognized as the frumpy looking officer who ordered me to strip back on the path.
"So you want to make a deal, eh?" the frumpy one chortled, looking up at my placard. "Six hours, huh? That's about as many as anyone ever gets! What did you do, dearie, wear a short skirt in Judge Hickcox's courtroom?"
The both laughed and elbowed each other knowingly.
"Well what do you say, Martha? Should we cut Ms. Moore here a little slack? Say an hour in exchange for going completely naked and showing off her pussy?"
"An hour!!!!!" I sputtered. "No! The girl who was on the next cross ... she's gone now ... got two ... half her sentence. I was hoping ..."
"Ahhhh, but she is a regular. We said an hour, Moore! That's our offer. Take it or leave it."
"But ...."
"An hour, Moore. Hurry up and make up your mind. The mayor and his party are arriving. Now or never."
"Ok, alright"
"Done! Martha! Do the honors please."
I closed my eyes as Martha reached out with pudgy fingers to grab my black kinis at the hips and roll them down to my thighs ...the crutch panel clinging for a second before breaking free. Then down they went, over my knees and coming to rest atop the rope binding my ankles.
It was done. I was naked. I opened my eyes and looked up in time to see the mayor and his party approaching. The matrons stepped aside.
"This one looks good," announced the mayor, surveying my sweat-sheened and straining nude body from top to bottom. "We'll do the news briefing and photo op right here under the cross of ...."
"Ms. Moore. Barbara Moore," prompted an aide.
"Yes right ... serving time for .... what is she up there for anyway?
"A moving traffic violation."
"Right!"
While the television crews hastened to get their cameras in position, and the reporters closed in holding microphones and recorders aloft, the mayor pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket.
"Shit, he's gonna make a speech," I thought.
TO BE CONTINUED
By a little past eleven that morning all five rows of crosses had been filled, and throngs of onlookers had descended on Kellogg Park.
They strolled up and down amongst the crosses, rubber necking and gawking as though this was some kind of carnival attraction. Some stopped to stare, others passed quickly by as though they found the whole scene discomforting, even though they had obviously made the effort to come.
Many of the men came to ogle ... tell-tale lumps in the front of their shorts or trousers advertised the fact that they found the public display of so many women bound to crosses profoundly arousing. Gangs of younger men roamed about, taking the opportunity to joke and ridicule ... finding enjoyment in shouting taunts and crudities at the indecently exposed and crucified women. It was humiliating.
By that time, I had been hanging on my cross for more than an hour, and the strain was beginning to take its toll. Following the advice of the policeman who spoke to me earlier, I was trying hard to pace myself, resisting the urge to push up for a fresh lungful of air any more often than necessary.
Hanging from a cross was extremely uncomfortable. My arms ached terribly from bearing the weight of my body. The ropes that bound my wrists dug deeply into my flesh. Blood was smeared on my wrists and forearms.
And whenever I felt the need to push up, my thigh muscles would cramp from the stress of holding myself upright and erect with only that small angled block beneath my feet to offer any purchase of support.
I could last in that upright position for at best a minute before my trembling body swung out from the cross, twisting and writhing helplessly from side to side. Then my knees would buckle and I'd come crashing down to a knees-bent position, smashing my tailbone in the process against the hard wooden upright and forcing the ropes binding my wrists to dig in even more painfully.
Desperate for distraction, I decided to strike up a conversation with the blond girl on the cross next to mine. I remembered her from the park entrance registration line. She was the one who had pulled four hours for parking in a no-parking zone.
"Hey," I called to her, surprised at how my voice rasped. The temperature in the sun-baked clearing was climbing fast and my throat was parched.
"Hey yourself," she responded a few moments later after slumping down on her cross.
"Is this your first time?"
"No, it's my fifth offense."
"I'm Barb," I offered, not knowing quite how to respond to that piece of information.
"I know," she said.
"What? How do you know who I am?"
"Well, the matron said it out loud, but I also knew because I work as an assistant to you in your university lab.
I looked again, feeling foolish for not recognizing her earlier ... but then, after all, I was new on the job and so was she, and besides this was a rather unusual situation.
Yes, it was her! But as I gazed at her panting body, I noticed something I had missed earlier ... her panties were gone ... the girl next to me was stark naked!
"Where did your panties go? Did they take them from you?" I croaked, thinking that was certainly rather rude of them.
"No, I traded them for a two-hour reduction in my sentence. If you go naked, the matrons are always willing to knock off a little cross time. Didn't they give you the option?"
I looked around, my eyes roving quickly up and down the rows of crosses, noting that more than half the women had been crucified nude!
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!" I exclaimed. "No, nothing was said to me about that."
"Newbie!" she replied, gritting her teeth as she tottered and swung out in my direction prior to slumping again.
"So, can I still do it?" I asked, starting to push myself up again, thighs and arms screaming in protest.
"I suppose so. You'll have to talk to one of the matrons. Might be difficult to get their attention as they will be busy getting some of the women down whose time is up. And besides, they'll be getting ready for the mayor and a party of dignitaries who will be here this afternoon. The success of the new traffic violation reduction program has been attracting a lot of attention. I heard that camera crews from the news media will be here too, and the mayor's party will include the Governor, and a Congressman.
"News media? Ummmmm ... maybe I'll think a bit about whether I really want to lose my kinis."
Within an hour they had come to take my blond neighbor down. She bid me farewell as she limped away. Her cross was left empty, as were several others. I thought some more about the desirability of shortening the length of my sentence.
The midday sun had soon reached its zenith. The heat was unbearable. There was no breeze. It had to be the muggiest day if the year. Sweat covered my brow and stung my eyes. My sodden hair was plastered to my face, neck and shoulders.
I felt woozy. My head lolled from side to side. Looking down as my chin came to rest on my chest, I watched as tiny rivulets of sweat ran down my mounded breasts, snaking around my tumescent nipples.
A man in a yellow hat had taken up position nearby as though he was on some kind of vigil. He watched me intently, taking long drags on his cigarette as I struggled ...dancing and writhing ... on my cross. He seemed to think my antics were a show put on exclusively for his enjoyment.
A group of people came through on some kind of tour. Their guide lectured them on the effectiveness of public humiliation as a deterrent to crime. Pointing up at me, she directed their attention to my placard. The tourists read it, oooed and awwwed, whispered among themselves and then whipped out cameras and smart phones to snap pictures.
More time passed. I was getting desperate. Then I saw two matrons were making there way in my direction. I pushed myself up shakily and called out to them.
"Hey, sorry to complain, but I can't take much more of this! The heat is killing me. Isn't there some way I could get my sentence shortened ... like giving up my panties? I've been told that can be done."
The matrons came closer. One was new to me, but the other one I recognized as the frumpy looking officer who ordered me to strip back on the path.
"So you want to make a deal, eh?" the frumpy one chortled, looking up at my placard. "Six hours, huh? That's about as many as anyone ever gets! What did you do, dearie, wear a short skirt in Judge Hickcox's courtroom?"
The both laughed and elbowed each other knowingly.
"Well what do you say, Martha? Should we cut Ms. Moore here a little slack? Say an hour in exchange for going completely naked and showing off her pussy?"
"An hour!!!!!" I sputtered. "No! The girl who was on the next cross ... she's gone now ... got two ... half her sentence. I was hoping ..."
"Ahhhh, but she is a regular. We said an hour, Moore! That's our offer. Take it or leave it."
"But ...."
"An hour, Moore. Hurry up and make up your mind. The mayor and his party are arriving. Now or never."
"Ok, alright"
"Done! Martha! Do the honors please."
I closed my eyes as Martha reached out with pudgy fingers to grab my black kinis at the hips and roll them down to my thighs ...the crutch panel clinging for a second before breaking free. Then down they went, over my knees and coming to rest atop the rope binding my ankles.
It was done. I was naked. I opened my eyes and looked up in time to see the mayor and his party approaching. The matrons stepped aside.
"This one looks good," announced the mayor, surveying my sweat-sheened and straining nude body from top to bottom. "We'll do the news briefing and photo op right here under the cross of ...."
"Ms. Moore. Barbara Moore," prompted an aide.
"Yes right ... serving time for .... what is she up there for anyway?
"A moving traffic violation."
"Right!"
While the television crews hastened to get their cameras in position, and the reporters closed in holding microphones and recorders aloft, the mayor pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket.
"Shit, he's gonna make a speech," I thought.
TO BE CONTINUED
Last edited:
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
You could have proposed to leave the honour to the mayor in front of the cameras.
It might have yielded more than an hour. Mayors can be generous sometimes when elections are coming nearer.
Last edited:
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
A very well written, detailed account of the punishment!
The public embarrasment, and meeting someone from your work on the cross next to you : "hey! I saw you in the park last Saturday!'
'Newby' - 'regular'. I suspect some of the women deliberately make traffic violations to earn a day in the park!
And meanwhile lots of dilemma's for Barb. Bargaining time against nudity!
