ledoux
Governor
So, how many bottles do I owe you for the verification?
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Barb goes BATS
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
Worth a try, I suppose. Her Ladyship does seem to have some semblance of a memory, however.
Would not be a Barb story without one of these moments.
At this rate, her Ladyship will condemn the entire staff of Cruxton Abbey as witches. Not sure how Lord Wragg will feel about that.
He is a man with a fixed and particular interest, isn't he?
I suspect there's not much left for Barb, Kathy, and Messaline now except hope in a good solid prayer. The question is whether anyone is listening.
Fair enough, but he might be a bit concerned about the Countess - she's about to ensure that all the women that Lord Wragg has a taste in are burned at the festival. At that point, he will have to decide if he also has excellent taste in small piles of ashes.
10.
Being escorted to Cruxton Abbey’s infamous cellar ‘punishment room’ brought back vivid memories of how Lord @Wragg would have me, as well as the other service staff girls, brought there to receive a stroke for every crystal goblet or decanter we broke. (See now, what a dreadful rhyming habit I’ve fallen into under the corrupting influences of @montycrusto and @twonines).
So, though it had been more than two years since I was sacked and left the manor, I knew full well what Messaline, Kathy and I could expect there.
And, sure enough, the appearance of the place hadn’t changed one iota. One if it’s most often employed furnishings was an old, but still elegant, broad-topped sideboard table brought down from upstairs and pressed up lengthwise against the far wall. Directly over it a row of shackles and chains were mounted on the wall.
It’s disciplinary purpose was simple and effective. Wragg would order us to strip naked, lie down on the table with our backs to the wood, and submit to having our wrists and ankles shackled to the wall. The effect was to scissor our bodies, both raising and spreading our ass cheeks in a manner to which they might be easily and brutally caned while, at the same time, presenting our privates bits in a most humiliating fashion.
@Kathy took one look at the sideboard table with its array of restraints overhead and grimaced, but dutifully began removing her maid’s uniform. Although she appeared distressed I couldn’t help but to notice a touch of eagerness about her too.
@messaline viewed the sideboard’s highly polished surface and scoffed, declaring it most inferior in quality to French Premium Wood. But she also began stripping herself down with a certain display of eagerness that mirrored that of Kathy.
“Will there be hot needles to pierce our nipples too?” she queried.
That made me look at her twice. Surely I hadn’t heard her say that, right?
Since I was already naked, There was no need for me to remove any clothing, which meant that I was the first to be placed in position atop the table. @Harsh Martinet and @Loxuru saw to that, overseen by the Vicar who made it his business to make certain my tight little was properly positioned to receive the love bite of the rattan cane.
Soon Kathy was positioned atop the table just to my left and Messaline to my right. The Countess had taken a seat on a comfortable chair, magically provided for her by the ever present butler, @Apostate. All was in readiness.
“Do proceed with the entertainments, my dear Vicar,” declared the Countess with an elegant sweep of her hand. “You may begin with Kathy, and then continue on, moving from right to left, and then repeat the process … shall we say a dozen strokes each? And don’t spare the rod. We do want to hear these wenches scream.”
“Of course, Countess. I will, as always, do my very best to meet your … uh … expectations,” responded the Vicar as he selected a thin supple cane from a rack on the wall and weighed it thoughtfully in his hand. Finding it somehow unsatisfactory, he returned it to the rack and selected another.
“Ahhh, just right,” he announced. Swishing his second choice through the air a few times he sauntered over to take up a position off to one side of Kathy’s raised butt.
“Let us first pray, for these three young miscreants,” he said solemnly, bowing his head and mumbling something unintelligible but priestly sounding.
“Here it comes!” enthused Martinet,
“So viel Spaß!” marveled the Graf.
Raising my head slightly, I watched in dreadful fascination as the Vicar whipped the cane in a wide arc to deliver an initial stripe to the quivering flesh of Kathy’s bare bottom. There was a zing of displaced air, a sharp smacking sound. A yelp of pain escaped her lips.
“Next!” declared the Vicar purposely, as he advanced to position himself to do the same to me.
And as he approached I detected a peculiar gleam in his eyes, which seemed to magnify as he optically measured the arced distance to his chosen point of contact. I immediately began bucking and twisting about wildly in a desperate attempt to throw off his aim … and I must have been doing a good job of it as my antics caused him to hesitate.
“Stop wriggling about!” exclaimed Messaline, with an air of French impatience. “Take your stroke Barb so I can have mine!”
“I think our little French harlot desires It,” declared Martinet.
“Well, of course she does. She’s French. What did you expect?” observed Loxoru.
“There you see? Does that not prove she’s a witch?” Interjected the butler.
“Most assuredly so,” added the Countess. “Do get on with it now, Vicar.”
“My pleasure.”
But before the cane could be brought to bear on my wildly gyrating tight little, there was a loud rapping at the punishment door.
“Now, who the Devil could that be?” exclaimed the Countess. “Apostate, go see who it is at once, and then send them away!”
“I’m afraid I can’t, your Ladyship.”
“Pray tell, why not?”
“Because it’s the Master of the House, Lord Wragg, accompanied by the Magistrates, Montycrusto and Twonines.”
TBC
Being escorted to Cruxton Abbey’s infamous cellar ‘punishment room’ brought back vivid memories of how Lord @Wragg would have me, as well as the other service staff girls, brought there to receive a stroke for every crystal goblet or decanter we broke. (See now, what a dreadful rhyming habit I’ve fallen into under the corrupting influences of @montycrusto and @twonines).
So, though it had been more than two years since I was sacked and left the manor, I knew full well what Messaline, Kathy and I could expect there.
And, sure enough, the appearance of the place hadn’t changed one iota. One if it’s most often employed furnishings was an old, but still elegant, broad-topped sideboard table brought down from upstairs and pressed up lengthwise against the far wall. Directly over it a row of shackles and chains were mounted on the wall.
It’s disciplinary purpose was simple and effective. Wragg would order us to strip naked, lie down on the table with our backs to the wood, and submit to having our wrists and ankles shackled to the wall. The effect was to scissor our bodies, both raising and spreading our ass cheeks in a manner to which they might be easily and brutally caned while, at the same time, presenting our privates bits in a most humiliating fashion.
@Kathy took one look at the sideboard table with its array of restraints overhead and grimaced, but dutifully began removing her maid’s uniform. Although she appeared distressed I couldn’t help but to notice a touch of eagerness about her too.
@messaline viewed the sideboard’s highly polished surface and scoffed, declaring it most inferior in quality to French Premium Wood. But she also began stripping herself down with a certain display of eagerness that mirrored that of Kathy.
“Will there be hot needles to pierce our nipples too?” she queried.
That made me look at her twice. Surely I hadn’t heard her say that, right?
Since I was already naked, There was no need for me to remove any clothing, which meant that I was the first to be placed in position atop the table. @Harsh Martinet and @Loxuru saw to that, overseen by the Vicar who made it his business to make certain my tight little was properly positioned to receive the love bite of the rattan cane.
Soon Kathy was positioned atop the table just to my left and Messaline to my right. The Countess had taken a seat on a comfortable chair, magically provided for her by the ever present butler, @Apostate. All was in readiness.
“Do proceed with the entertainments, my dear Vicar,” declared the Countess with an elegant sweep of her hand. “You may begin with Kathy, and then continue on, moving from right to left, and then repeat the process … shall we say a dozen strokes each? And don’t spare the rod. We do want to hear these wenches scream.”
“Of course, Countess. I will, as always, do my very best to meet your … uh … expectations,” responded the Vicar as he selected a thin supple cane from a rack on the wall and weighed it thoughtfully in his hand. Finding it somehow unsatisfactory, he returned it to the rack and selected another.
“Ahhh, just right,” he announced. Swishing his second choice through the air a few times he sauntered over to take up a position off to one side of Kathy’s raised butt.
“Let us first pray, for these three young miscreants,” he said solemnly, bowing his head and mumbling something unintelligible but priestly sounding.
“Here it comes!” enthused Martinet,
“So viel Spaß!” marveled the Graf.
Raising my head slightly, I watched in dreadful fascination as the Vicar whipped the cane in a wide arc to deliver an initial stripe to the quivering flesh of Kathy’s bare bottom. There was a zing of displaced air, a sharp smacking sound. A yelp of pain escaped her lips.
“Next!” declared the Vicar purposely, as he advanced to position himself to do the same to me.
And as he approached I detected a peculiar gleam in his eyes, which seemed to magnify as he optically measured the arced distance to his chosen point of contact. I immediately began bucking and twisting about wildly in a desperate attempt to throw off his aim … and I must have been doing a good job of it as my antics caused him to hesitate.
“Stop wriggling about!” exclaimed Messaline, with an air of French impatience. “Take your stroke Barb so I can have mine!”
“I think our little French harlot desires It,” declared Martinet.
“Well, of course she does. She’s French. What did you expect?” observed Loxoru.
“There you see? Does that not prove she’s a witch?” Interjected the butler.
“Most assuredly so,” added the Countess. “Do get on with it now, Vicar.”
“My pleasure.”
But before the cane could be brought to bear on my wildly gyrating tight little, there was a loud rapping at the punishment door.
“Now, who the Devil could that be?” exclaimed the Countess. “Apostate, go see who it is at once, and then send them away!”
“I’m afraid I can’t, your Ladyship.”
“Pray tell, why not?”
“Because it’s the Master of the House, Lord Wragg, accompanied by the Magistrates, Montycrusto and Twonines.”
TBC
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
That certainly calls for more punishment.
That's the Kathy we know and love!
I'm beginning to like this French tart! I do have a weakness for sweets.
Holy inspiration. A selfless desire to save their souls!
Arrggghhhhh!!!!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Simply wonderful! So funny, yet with an edge of jeopardy that is just right. Of course all saucy pretty French maidens are witches and need to be treated as such; and yes, whatever extraneous pressures are placed upon him, our stoic Vicar will always uppermost remain loyal to his religious roots and pray earnestly before administering whatever discipline is due; And the sensational @Kathy ... almost stripped naked before she knew what the punishment was ... and then still needed to make certain that the red hot needles were on hand ...
... and that punishment position ... just perfect!
Fantastic Barb!
M
montycrusto
Guest
I’m sure the shackles are there as safety features, we wouldn’t want you to fall off and hurt yourself!
Benevolent inspiration, I think you mean!
I keep forgetting whether I’m tweedle Dum or tweedle Dee. Knowing Barb, I’m probably the Dum one
.
M
montycrusto
Guest
It seems we arrived just in time,
To prevent a most terrible crime.
The caning of three
Suspect witches, you see,
Must be set down in Limerick rhyme.
ledoux
Governor
Uh oh, I think I see where this is heading.
Just remember Barb, what they say about an unridden horse!
And to think, I even wrote you a song (in French, no less).
I started working on a new one (in Lithuanian)
Below is a small sample, but write with care or you may never see the rest of it!
View attachment lithu song 2.mp4
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I so love the tasting notes we get on bottles of French wine sold in UK, the English versions are full of such wonderful expressions!
twonines
LIMERICUS
Of the three girls, we`ve met the first two,
The third, she hails from Anjou.
Messa`s her name,
And pain is her game,
She can take the worst you can do.
M
montycrusto
Guest
Witches come often in threes,
Fair and foul, like a nasty disease.
And we are the cure,
We are holy and pure,
And we’ll cane them as much as we please.
M
montycrusto
Guest
We magistrates must do our duty,
And punish this buxom young beauty,
We’ll flog out her demon,
And fill up with semen,
Her tight little, so firm and fruity.
And punish this buxom young beauty,
We’ll flog out her demon,
And fill up with semen,
Her tight little, so firm and fruity.
FRUITY ??????