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And The Waters Ran Red

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Mostly naked in a stable in this weather?

I have a feeling things will start to warm up soon.

One way or another!
 
Barbaria1 said:
Giggle snort:p
Click to expand...
"I hate 'no smoking' areas" Tree says.

"Tree, you can use my mouth as an ashtray If you take me outside. I don't want to burn to death!!!"

As appealing as Barb's offer was Tree turns and walks out only saying "Keep writing... it's a good story..."
 
[QUOTEbonus esyhangingtree, post: 206117, member: 4513"]"I hate 'no smoking' areas" Tree says.

"Tree, you can use my mouth as an ashtray If you take me outside. I don't want to burn to death!!!"

As appealing as Barb's offer was Tree turns and walks out only saying "Keep writing... it's a good story..."[/QUOTE]
Naked bonum est
 
thehangingtree said:
"I hate 'no smoking' areas" Tree says.

"Tree, you can use my mouth as an ashtray If you take me outside. I don't want to burn to death!!!"

As appealing as Barb's offer was Tree turns and walks out only saying "Keep writing... it's a good story..."
Click to expand...
mongo said:
[QUOTEbonus esyhangingtree, post: 206117, member: 4513"]"I hate 'no smoking' areas" Tree says.

"Tree, you can use my mouth as an ashtray If you take me outside. I don't want to burn to death!!!"

As appealing as Barb's offer was Tree turns and walks out only saying "Keep writing... it's a good story..."
Click to expand...
Naked bonum est[/QUOTE]


madame WU book 6.jpg What's that saying ... "if you can't beat him, join him" ? ;):p
 
6.​

"Hi-ya. Where ya from. I'm Irish."

That's what she said.

I am taken aback. Who is this person? So friendly and bright in a dreadful place like this?

I mean, here we are … dozens of us … I don't even know how many … abducted, transported half naked and drugged cross country in the back of little white vans driven by Russian mobsters, and now confined like cattle in some old barn in the middle of nowhere.

And here she is … wanting to have a friendly little "get-to-know-you."

Well anyway, no point in getting precious or stuffy about the whole thing, so I toss here a sweet smile and reply, "I'm from the States … nice to meet you … how did you get here?"

"Same way as you I suspect. I was all alone, on my way home from the pub late at night and they grabbed me. Right off the street in Cork, they did, would you believe it! Next thing I knew I was here in this cage. Been here now for nearly three days, watching them bring in more every day. You and your friends are the latest lot."

By this time we are joined by the fat girl and the French girl, both of whom listen in as they settle down on my left, facing the Irish girl. A moment later the blonde is with us too. As she presses up close behind me and looks over my over my shoulder, I am aware of her softness against my bare back.

I decide to press the Irish girl for more information, questions tumbling out in rapid fire succession. "So, what's going on? What are they going to do with us? Where are we?"

"Well," says the young Irish girl, tossing her full dark hair back over her shoulders, "it's all a bit sketchy, but from what I've been able to get out of the blokes who feed and care for us, and mind you the food hasn’t been all that bad, we are all here for some kind of annual gathering of filthy-rich types from all over the world. They come here every year to do some kind of trophy hunt on the grounds of this estate. I'm not sure where this place is, but I gather we are somewhere in Scotland, probably some place as far as possible from everywhere."

"You mean we are…” I stammer and pause in mid-sentence, unable to go on.

"...the prey," whispers the blonde from behind, finishing my sentence for me. And then in a much louder and shrill voice, "They intend to get their jollies by hunting us down like wild game!"

"Shhhhh ... Keep it down; someone is always listening,” warns the Irish girl.

The discussion ends. Everyone is silent, lost in their thoughts … the reality of it all slowly sinking in, along with the terror.

The French girl is the first to speak. "We must be strong and stick together," she asserts, straightening out her legs and nervously arranging her leather mini-skirt. "We must be watchful; bide our time, watch for an opportunity and then act. No one is going to rescue us. We must fight them on our own. We must become sisters!"

"Nice speech," says the small athletic one, who has awakened and crawls over to take her place in our little huddle. I'm Blaire. Count me in."

"Barb here," I reply, shifting over a bit to let Blaire into the circle.

"I'm Siss," offers the blonde.

"Messaline"

"Natasha ... Tash for short."

We turn expectantly to the fat girl but she has lain down on her side and fallen asleep, her head resting on my thigh.

Lunch time! Our handlers are back, banging on the iron bars of the cages with metal serving spoons. The door to ours swings open with a loud creak and a stack of bowls is deposited on the floor, along with a loaf of bread and a large canteen of water.

We line up against the bars with our bowls, extending them through to receive a ladle full of soup. I realize I haven’t eaten in a very long time.

The soup is ladled out along with an abundance of unwanted gropes.

"Eat hardy girls while you can," chortles one of the coveralls, smirking.

We sit and eat.

Afterwards, Blaire turns to the Irish girl, and says, “ummm….where do I ….. ?”

“Over there,” she responds, nodding toward a metal slop bucket standing in the far corner of the cage.

“Oh,” says Blaire, “that’s it? Crap.”

We spend the rest of the afternoon chatting quietly, getting to know one another … bonding in our mutual plight, doing our best to put the horror of what the morrow might bring out of our minds.

Dinner comes in much the same form as lunch. By now the slop bucket reeks and no one really wants to use it anymore. We are told to get some rest; that tomorrow is our “big day”. Little we can do about that but wonder and worry.

Night comes. It gets chilly in the stable. We huddle together for warmth … almost like a body pile … everyone snuggling in, getting close to one another.

Siss lies alongside me. I lie on my side, back to her. She moves closer, so that the contours of her body dovetail with mine. She presses against me, her hand strays to my hip … a gentle warm kiss on my shoulder. Messaline on the other side, comes closer … throws her arm over both Siss and me. The others press in closer around us.

“Sisters,” Messaline says …

TO BE CONTINUED
 
Last edited:
Barbaria1 said:
6.​

"Hi-ya. Where ya from. I'm Irish."

That's what she said.

I am taken aback. Who is this person? So friendly and bright in a dreadful place like this?

I mean, here we are … dozens of us … I don't even know how many … abducted, transported half naked and drugged cross country in the back of little white vans driven by Russian mobsters, and now confined like cattle in some old barn in the middle of nowhere.

And here she is … wanting to have a friendly little "get-to-know you."

Well anyway, no point in getting precious or stuffy about the whole thing, so I toss here a sweet smile and reply, "I'm from the States … nice to meet you … how did you get here?"

"Same way as you I suspect. I was all alone, on my way home from the pub late at night and they grabbed me. Right off the street in Cork, they did, would you believe it! Next thing I knew I was here in this cage. Been here now for nearly three days, watching them bring in more every day. You and your friends are the latest lot."

By this time we are joined by the fat girl and the French girl, both of whom listen in as they settle down on my left, facing the Irish girl. A moment later the blonde is with us too. As she presses up close behind me and looks over my over my shoulder, I am aware of her softness against my bare back.

I decide to press the Irish girl for more information, questions tumbling out in rapid fire succession. "So, what's going on? What are they going to do with us? Where are we?"

"Well," says the young Irish girl, tossing her full dark hair back over her shoulders, "it's all a bit sketchy, but from what I've been able to get out of the blokes who feed and care for us, and mind you the food hasn’t been all that bad, we are all here for some kind of annual gathering of filthy-rich types from all over the world. They come here every year to do some kind of trophy hunt on the grounds of this estate. I'm not sure where this place is, but I gather we are somewhere in Scotland, probably some place as far as possible from everywhere."

"You mean we are…” I stammer and pause in mid-sentence, unable to go on.

"...the prey," whispers the blonde from behind, finishing my sentence for me. And then in a much louder and shrill voice, "They intend to get their jollies by hunting us down like wild game!"

"Shhhhh ... Keep it down; someone is always listening,” warns the Irish girl.

The discussion ends. Everyone is silent, lost in their thoughts … the reality of it all slowly sinking in, along with the terror.

The French girl is the first to speak. "We must be strong and stick together," she asserts, straightening out her legs and nervously arranging her leather mini-skirt. "We must be watchful; bide our time, watch for an opportunity and then act. No one is going to rescue us. We must fight them on our own. We must become sisters!"

"Nice speech," says the small athletic one, who has awakened and crawls over to take her place in our little huddle. I'm Blaire. Count me in."

"Barb here," I reply, shifting over a bit to let Blaire into the circle.

"I'm Siss," offers the blonde.

"Messaline"

"Natasha ... Tash for short."

We turn expectantly to the fat girl but she has lain down on her side and fallen asleep, her head resting on my thigh.

Lunch time! Our handlers are back, banging on the iron bars of the cages with metal serving spoons. The door to ours swings open with a loud creak and a stack of bowls is deposited on the floor, along with a loaf of bread and a large canteen of water.

We line up against the bars with our bowls, extending them through to receive a ladle full of soup. I realize I haven’t eaten in a very long time.

The soup is ladled out along with an abundance of unwanted gropes.

"Eat hardy girls while you can," chortles one of the coveralls, smirking.

We sit and eat.

Afterwards, Blair turns to the Irish girl, and says, “ummm….where do I ….. ?”

“Over there,” she responds, nodding toward a metal slop bucket standing in the far corner of the cage.

“Oh,” says Blaire, “that’s it? Crap.”

We spend the rest of the afternoon chatting quietly, getting to know one another … bonding in our mutual plight, doing our best to put the horror of what the morrow might bring out of our minds.

Dinner comes in much the same form as lunch. By now the slop bucket reeks and no one really wants to use it anymore. We are told to get some rest; that tomorrow is our “big day”. Little we can do about that but wonder and worry.

Night comes. It gets chilly in the stable. We huddle together for warmth … almost like a body pile … everyone snuggling in, getting close to one another.

Siss lies alongside me. I lie on my side, back to her. She moves closer, so that the contours of her body dovetail with mine. She presses against me, her hand strays to my hip … a gentle warm kiss on my shoulder. Messaline on the other side, comes closer … throws her arm over both Siss and me. The others press in closer around us.

“Sisters,” Messaline says …

TO BE CONTINUED
Click to expand...
nice 'spooning' at the end, Barb...

Tree
 
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