Stone the crows!!!! That's an art project, not a manip! Respect!
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Barbarossanova
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Ye Gods! My head is spinning!contains about 45 layers.
(That does begin to get a little difficult in keeping track of which layer is which!)
windar
Teller of Tales
Sometiimes a cigar is just a cigar, Moore. But I don't smoke...
Marcius
Tribune
Monica Lewinsky called, she's not so sure.
xso
Tribune
A clip from the Russian front........maybe we will see a well known CF member swinging naked in a smilar scene in this story??? 
http://motherless.com/155DB55
http://motherless.com/155DB55
BARBAROSSANOVA
Episode 4, 0400, 25 November 1942, west of Moscow, near Rzhev
Crammed tight with bodies, the dugout reeked of sweat, bad breath and alcohol. I laid back against a comrade who had passed out, took one last drink from the nearly drained bottle in my hand, tossed it aside and closed my eyes. Outside there were a series of explosions. The Germans were lobbing mortar rounds at us again, as they often did during the night to keep us awake. It hardly bothered me anymore, so long as the rounds didn't come too close.
My attention was drawn to a commissar who was picking his way through the dugout, gathering up vodka bottles. The powers that be had apparently decided we had had enough to drink. In another hour they would be rousing us out of the dugout and forming us up for the suicide assault through the German minefields. I didn't want to think about that, so I closed my eyes and directed my thoughts back again to the Lubyanka on the day of my show trial.
I had spent the night following my aborted interrogation session lying on the bed in my holding cell. Sleep was impossible given my recent whipping at the hands of Boris ... although the angry red marks that covered my body grew fainter and hurt a little less as the hours went by. Just before dawn they came with a prison shift ... but no underthings ... for me to wear, a bowl of water with which to wash up, and a little food. I donned the dress, ate greedily and then laid back on my bed to await events. I didn't have to wait very long before Vassily appeared in the doorway.
"Right on time," I said, raising my head slightly off my filthy pillow to look him over and doing my best to appear indifferent to my plight. He wore a dark suit and tie, and his polished shoes gleamed. He looked dressed to impress.
"Will you be the one who will prosecute me at the trial?" I asked, flashing him a wan smile.
"No, sorry. That pleasure belongs to Stalin's Chief Prosecutor Andrey Vyshinsky, a ruthless man. Listen closely. I want to give you some advice about what to expect and how to behave. First, keep in mind that this is a show trial ... Yagoda is already finished ... the whole thing is about presenting a damning case that justifies not only his removal as head of the NKVD, but also his liquidation. There will be twenty other principals tried along with him, in addition to a number of supporting conspirators, including you! Vyshinsky will seek the death penalty for everyone."
I blinked at the words "death penalty".
"When you are on the docket," Vassily continued, "Vyshinsky will reveal that you and Yagoda conspired to make treasonous contact with the Nazi minister of propaganda, Goebbels, under the supposed cover of an assassination operation ... which he will charge that you purposely bungled. You will be accused of having passed state secrets to Goebbels while 'entertaining him' in the most scandalous manner in his private chambers at Berlin's Apollo Club."
"But that's not what happened at all! They can't prove that! I will simply state the truth. No one will believe what Vyshinsky says if he is as discredited as you say he is. Once they hear my story, I will be free."
"I am sorry, but defendants are not allowed to speak at their trial. This is a show trial, remember! You must stand there silently. And when it's over you will be expected to denounce Yagoda, indicate your acceptance of your own guilt in conspiring with him as well as the consequences of having done so, and beg the mercy of the court."
"That's so unfair!" I wailed.
"Just don't make waves! I told you I am working on something that may be of benefit to you. Just accept your fate, for now, and help condemn that bastard Yagoda. Hush now! They're coming for you ... get on your feet and put your hands behind your back so I can handcuff you!"
Moments later, my escort arrived ... we left the cell and exited the Lubyanka through a back entrance. I was led by a uniformed young woman and man ...
the latter of whom took me firmly by the arm.
Vassily seemed in a hurry, and was well out in front. A ZIS 101 limousine waited in the courtyard to take us to the scene of the trial ... the chambers of the Military Collegium of the Supreme Court of the Soviet Union.
Vassily looked around impatiently, clearly anxious to be on our way.
The male guard, who was clutching my arm, began to guide me forward toward the open door of the car ... I balked and took a step backwards. But I was guided forward again, his grip on my arm a bit tighter than before.
The young blond matron smiled at me encouragingly, and cooed "Good luck, honey!" I gave her a sideways glance ... wondered how someone that cheerful could do her job ... sucked in my breath and got in.
Vassily slid in beside me and my male escort slammed the door. The driver put the ZIS into gear and we were off. Moscow sped by as I gazed out the window.
"How far is it?" I asked conversationally, turning awkwardly in the seat towards Vassily. I was finding sitting comfortably in the back seat of the limousine difficult with hands cuffed behind my back.
"Not far," he grunted while leaning forward to give the driver instructions. The car slowed and turned off the main thoroughfare on which we were traveling.
"You know Vassily, this is the second time you've had me in the back of a car in as many days! And why are we driving through the park?"
"It's quicker and more private this way, and we're allowed to..."
"... snog in the backseat?" I said, finishing his sentence for him teasingly.
"You Americans! Everything is a joke! You never know when to keep quiet do you? I was about to say that we're allowed to plan further how you should behave at the trial. As I told you earlier, you must keep your mouth shut. Do not defend yourself! Do not give into the temptation to argue, be indignant or ridicule! Do you understand?"
"I'll say what I please. I have no intention of taking this trumped up monkey trial lying down!"
"You will keep quiet!" he retorted with obvious annoyance. "If you passively accept everything, you'll make it easier for me to arrange a less gruesome sentence for you."
"And what's better than being taken out and shot? ... the gallows? ... the guillotine?"
"Just do as I say ... please!"
We lapsed into silence. I edged toward the window and attempted to study the passing parkland landscape, fully aware that his eyes were fixed on my long bare legs. The hem of my shift had slipped far back beneath my ass. I turned my knees to one side in effort to find comfort with my hands cuffed behind my back.
Slowly his hand glided across the grey fabric seat covering.
I tried to ignore its nearly imperceptible advance until it came into contact with my bare thigh, at which point I flinched but studiously continued to gaze out the window. I felt a bead of sweat breaking out on my back. What was happening? His fingers traced their way up the outside of my thigh in a kind of drawn out brushing motion ... relentlessly but slowly moving upward ... stopping momentarily at the hem of my prison shift as the ZIS ... at his command ... slowed, pulled over and came to a complete stop.
I turned to him ... eyes wide and mouth agape ... as his hand pushed up on my shift, crossed swiftly over the top of my thigh and slid home ... I gasped ...
Episode 4, 0400, 25 November 1942, west of Moscow, near Rzhev
Crammed tight with bodies, the dugout reeked of sweat, bad breath and alcohol. I laid back against a comrade who had passed out, took one last drink from the nearly drained bottle in my hand, tossed it aside and closed my eyes. Outside there were a series of explosions. The Germans were lobbing mortar rounds at us again, as they often did during the night to keep us awake. It hardly bothered me anymore, so long as the rounds didn't come too close.
My attention was drawn to a commissar who was picking his way through the dugout, gathering up vodka bottles. The powers that be had apparently decided we had had enough to drink. In another hour they would be rousing us out of the dugout and forming us up for the suicide assault through the German minefields. I didn't want to think about that, so I closed my eyes and directed my thoughts back again to the Lubyanka on the day of my show trial.
*****
I had spent the night following my aborted interrogation session lying on the bed in my holding cell. Sleep was impossible given my recent whipping at the hands of Boris ... although the angry red marks that covered my body grew fainter and hurt a little less as the hours went by. Just before dawn they came with a prison shift ... but no underthings ... for me to wear, a bowl of water with which to wash up, and a little food. I donned the dress, ate greedily and then laid back on my bed to await events. I didn't have to wait very long before Vassily appeared in the doorway.
"Right on time," I said, raising my head slightly off my filthy pillow to look him over and doing my best to appear indifferent to my plight. He wore a dark suit and tie, and his polished shoes gleamed. He looked dressed to impress.
"Will you be the one who will prosecute me at the trial?" I asked, flashing him a wan smile.
"No, sorry. That pleasure belongs to Stalin's Chief Prosecutor Andrey Vyshinsky, a ruthless man. Listen closely. I want to give you some advice about what to expect and how to behave. First, keep in mind that this is a show trial ... Yagoda is already finished ... the whole thing is about presenting a damning case that justifies not only his removal as head of the NKVD, but also his liquidation. There will be twenty other principals tried along with him, in addition to a number of supporting conspirators, including you! Vyshinsky will seek the death penalty for everyone."
I blinked at the words "death penalty".
"When you are on the docket," Vassily continued, "Vyshinsky will reveal that you and Yagoda conspired to make treasonous contact with the Nazi minister of propaganda, Goebbels, under the supposed cover of an assassination operation ... which he will charge that you purposely bungled. You will be accused of having passed state secrets to Goebbels while 'entertaining him' in the most scandalous manner in his private chambers at Berlin's Apollo Club."
"But that's not what happened at all! They can't prove that! I will simply state the truth. No one will believe what Vyshinsky says if he is as discredited as you say he is. Once they hear my story, I will be free."
"I am sorry, but defendants are not allowed to speak at their trial. This is a show trial, remember! You must stand there silently. And when it's over you will be expected to denounce Yagoda, indicate your acceptance of your own guilt in conspiring with him as well as the consequences of having done so, and beg the mercy of the court."
"That's so unfair!" I wailed.
"Just don't make waves! I told you I am working on something that may be of benefit to you. Just accept your fate, for now, and help condemn that bastard Yagoda. Hush now! They're coming for you ... get on your feet and put your hands behind your back so I can handcuff you!"
Moments later, my escort arrived ... we left the cell and exited the Lubyanka through a back entrance. I was led by a uniformed young woman and man ...
the latter of whom took me firmly by the arm.
Vassily seemed in a hurry, and was well out in front. A ZIS 101 limousine waited in the courtyard to take us to the scene of the trial ... the chambers of the Military Collegium of the Supreme Court of the Soviet Union.
Vassily looked around impatiently, clearly anxious to be on our way.
The male guard, who was clutching my arm, began to guide me forward toward the open door of the car ... I balked and took a step backwards. But I was guided forward again, his grip on my arm a bit tighter than before.
The young blond matron smiled at me encouragingly, and cooed "Good luck, honey!" I gave her a sideways glance ... wondered how someone that cheerful could do her job ... sucked in my breath and got in.
Vassily slid in beside me and my male escort slammed the door. The driver put the ZIS into gear and we were off. Moscow sped by as I gazed out the window.
"How far is it?" I asked conversationally, turning awkwardly in the seat towards Vassily. I was finding sitting comfortably in the back seat of the limousine difficult with hands cuffed behind my back.
"Not far," he grunted while leaning forward to give the driver instructions. The car slowed and turned off the main thoroughfare on which we were traveling.
"You know Vassily, this is the second time you've had me in the back of a car in as many days! And why are we driving through the park?"
"It's quicker and more private this way, and we're allowed to..."
"... snog in the backseat?" I said, finishing his sentence for him teasingly.
"You Americans! Everything is a joke! You never know when to keep quiet do you? I was about to say that we're allowed to plan further how you should behave at the trial. As I told you earlier, you must keep your mouth shut. Do not defend yourself! Do not give into the temptation to argue, be indignant or ridicule! Do you understand?"
"I'll say what I please. I have no intention of taking this trumped up monkey trial lying down!"
"You will keep quiet!" he retorted with obvious annoyance. "If you passively accept everything, you'll make it easier for me to arrange a less gruesome sentence for you."
"And what's better than being taken out and shot? ... the gallows? ... the guillotine?"
"Just do as I say ... please!"
We lapsed into silence. I edged toward the window and attempted to study the passing parkland landscape, fully aware that his eyes were fixed on my long bare legs. The hem of my shift had slipped far back beneath my ass. I turned my knees to one side in effort to find comfort with my hands cuffed behind my back.
Slowly his hand glided across the grey fabric seat covering.
I tried to ignore its nearly imperceptible advance until it came into contact with my bare thigh, at which point I flinched but studiously continued to gaze out the window. I felt a bead of sweat breaking out on my back. What was happening? His fingers traced their way up the outside of my thigh in a kind of drawn out brushing motion ... relentlessly but slowly moving upward ... stopping momentarily at the hem of my prison shift as the ZIS ... at his command ... slowed, pulled over and came to a complete stop.
I turned to him ... eyes wide and mouth agape ... as his hand pushed up on my shift, crossed swiftly over the top of my thigh and slid home ... I gasped ...
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She gasps... is it fear, loath, or even pleasure? We can only wait to read on!!!
It is a good thing it is the Commies that have her. If she was at the Cruxton Abbey she would be condemned to death hanged crucified on the Hill of Absolute Penance!!!Could even be a mixture of all three
...of course this thought only raises her arousal...
windar
Teller of Tales
That's the first thing Moore hasn't taken lying down.
But, let me ask, that's what you wear to court? At least Zilawe was a hot climate and they had no A/C in the courtroom, so you had an excuse to expose your assets. But this is frickin' Russia. It makes Minnesota look tropical.
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Quit being so honestly blunt!!!That's the first thing Moore hasn't taken lying down.
But, let me ask, that's what you wear to court? At least Zilawe was a hot climate and they had no A/C in the courtroom, so you hd an excuse to expose your assets. But this is frickin' Russia. It makes Minnesaota look tropical.
Laughter is the best medicine...
It's been said before.
There is another alternative....
...and Tree's ahead of me there!
Vassily is an expert in court etiquette, but he appears to have a conflict of interest - can you trust him?
He evidently has some mysterious scheme in mind, although I fear it is unlikely to result in your acquittal.
At least he is not using chloroform this time...
Vassily is an expert in court etiquette, but he appears to have a conflict of interest - can you trust him?
He evidently has some mysterious scheme in mind, although I fear it is unlikely to result in your acquittal.
At least he is not using chloroform this time...
Right, look on the bright side ... things could be worse!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
I don't get it? First Vassily proposes a plea bargain.
And then, this happens :
"What are you in for?"
"Don't know! My lawyer fucked me!"
(quote from 'the shankhaw redemption')
Vassily would be a good lawyer
Vassily would be a good lawyer
Better than Tree???
Or perhaps the nerve agent known as Novichok?
Is their anyone who isn't?
That works too quick. He needs you to be alive for your trial. But supplying a handy painkiller would be a kindness.Or perhaps the nerve agent known as Novichok?
I was thinking of Slobodan Praljak
http://metro.co.uk/2017/12/01/war-c...d-from-cyanide-poisoning-7125850/?ito=cbshare