Well it's supposed to be a re-enactment, so we'll do the dying bit so long as you can bring us back to do it again, and again ...
-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
Crisis at Cruxton Abbey
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
I think I've quoted Noel Coward before, but he bears repeating here,Up the stairs, turn left, along the corridor, fourth turning on the right, down the turret stairs, to the basement level, follow that corridor around three corners, up the stairs and into the yard, and
View attachment 1513245
there you are!
Though the pipes that supply the bathroom burst
And the lavatory makes you fear the worst,
It was used by Charles the First
Quite informally,
And later by George the Fourth
On a journey north.
(Watch on YouTube works for me)
There’s a series of novels known as the Royal Spyness mysteries by Ryss Bowen in which one of the running jokes is about the loo in Scottish castles being extraordinarily drafty and wallpapered in tartan colors. These posts made me think of the series, of which I’m a devoted fan and in which the hapless heroine is hopelessly accident prone. Sound familiar??? If you want a fun read, check the series out.
Last edited:
Works for me too!
I had problems with my passport, so I couldn't get here until very late. The young lady who picked me up from the train station looked pretty good, but her driving style! She kept trying to drive on the wrong (right) side of the road, I almost feared for my life. After she showed me my room, she said she was available to drive and her boss, a Mr. Tree, had allowed her to use his car at any time.
But when I actually had to leave again and went into the staff kitchen, I saw this:
But when I actually had to leave again and went into the staff kitchen, I saw this:
18.
IN MY BED, LATE ON A SATURDAY NIGHT IN AUGUST, THE EVENT CONCLUDED AND THE CROWDS GONE HOME (part 5)
Alright diary, here’s the entry for which you’ve been waiting for so patiently, the one in which I describe what happened next in our event’s grand finale.
As I’ve already recounted, the crux reenactment had gotten underway with a “via crucis scene” in which six naked girls, including yours truly, struggled to make their way uphill … enduring at each step of the way, the bite of the lash, the dead weight of a patibulum resting on their shoulders as well as a flood of verbal abuse from a raucous crowd.
And, as you can well imagine, it took some time for us to make our way to the array of six massive French premium wood stipites erected side-by-side in a row upon the high ground, their intricately carved phallus-like heads silhouetted against the rainbow hues of a strikingly beautiful sunset.
I, for one, had managed to fall to the ground more than once as I struggled to carry my burden up the slope, driven each time under the lash to regain my footing and press onward. I don’t believe any of the others fared any better.
And, of course, upon reaching the crest in a state of exhaustion, we all shed our burden as quickly as we could and threw ourselves to the ground … some of us dropping to our hands and knees, others either stretching out on the ground or adopting a siting position with knees drawn up and heads slumped forward.
Now, dear diary, here’s where it gets interesting because unbeknownst to nearly everyone, as a special surprise, our artistic director, @bobinder had brought in the world-renown ‘crux impresario’, @phlebas , all the way from Australia, to stage our crucifixions with enough realism and showmanship to completely bedazzle the expectant mob … I mean crowd … rapidly gathering round us.
Dressed as a Roman Optio, and ably assisted by his Germanic auxiliary subaltern, @Hugin&Munin , he shouted out orders to the members of his legionary execution detail played by Bull, Gunner, @Harsh Martinet , @Fossy , @wulf , @bindhertocross , @twonines and @Davec5299 .
The act of getting us up on our crosses required that they work in teams of five. Since there was ten of them that meant two teams. And since, according to the reenactment script the first to be crucified were to be @Eulalia and myself, she and I were immediately descended upon by our respective teams.
Grasped and dragged from where we sat on the ground, we soon found ourselves thrown down on our backs, with wrists seized and pinned to the patibula placed just above our heads
I was attended to by Phlebas, HarshMartinet, Fossy, Twonines, and Bull; Eul by Hugin&Munin, Dave, Bindertocross, and Gunner.
In my case, Bull knelt over me, straddling my hips and leaning forward to press down on my shoulders, effectively pinning me down with his considerable bulk. Phlebas and HarshMartinet held my wrists tightly in place against the patibulum while Fossy and Twonines … armed with hammer and nails prepared to affix them to the patibulum. In Eul’s case, it was Gunner holding her down, while the other four attended to the task of nailing.
Now, dear diary, I must digress here in my telling to take up the subject of nails. Rather than the kind of crudely fashioned, heavy iron nails the real Romans might have used, the reenactment employed instead the special sterile thin nail created and supplied for the show by @mp5stab .
Let me tell you, though, having those nails driven through my thin little wrists was no picnic. It hurt like hell, and I bucked, squirmed and screamed like a banshee, as did @Eulalia … although true to her nature, she accepted it more resignedly than I did. In fact, I bucked so hard, I nearly threw Bull, which you’d have to agree was no easy feat.
But, all in all, it went down as Phlebas had planned it, with all the action caught in closeup live action cam shots beamed up, for the benefit of the crowd, onto two large Jumbotron screens set up expressly for that purpose.
A final word on those nails … remarkably, after being hammered through flesh and cartilage, which as I said hurt like hell, they did little of lasting damage, nor did they cause infection. If you could see my wrists and feet right now, dear diary … which of course you can’t … you’d observe that I’m wearing four bandages, but suffering no visible ill effects.
So then … back to the action. Having nailed Eul and me to our patibula, Phlebas and Hugin&Munin, along with their teams, moved on to repeat their performances with the other four girls … two to Eul’s and my left and two to our right. And for the next twenty minutes or so, the air was filled with the cries and curses coming from four throats amid the ringing sounds of hammerheads striking on nails and a raucous loudly cheering crowd.
Of the four, @messaline took the ordeal most calmly, nonchalantly humming a traditional French tune and occasionally calling out to her lover, Judith, who hovered faithfully nearby. Likewise, @mp5stab seemed to be in her element, shouting out something about hair and nails in between screaming and cursing, and like me, bucking enough to nearly unseat the Arkansasian behemoth attempting to pin her down.
And off to my immediate left, @Darkprincess69 seemed to be interested in throwing me provocatively lustful glances despite the horror of being brutally nailed to the wood. I also noticed for the first time … I didn’t know how I could have missed it earlier … that she was wearing a pair of red heels unlike the rest of us who were all barefoot.
But of all of us, it was Ms Prudely who appeared most distraught. It was clear that she’d come to the conclusion that she’d bitten off more than she could chew, as the saying goes. She was desperately begging to bow out, but no one seemed to be listening or care.
And that, dear diary, brings us to the raising and fixing on our crosses part. But once again, I need to leave you wondering. As it’s 3 am and time to change my bandages.
Back soon.
TBC
IN MY BED, LATE ON A SATURDAY NIGHT IN AUGUST, THE EVENT CONCLUDED AND THE CROWDS GONE HOME (part 5)
Alright diary, here’s the entry for which you’ve been waiting for so patiently, the one in which I describe what happened next in our event’s grand finale.
As I’ve already recounted, the crux reenactment had gotten underway with a “via crucis scene” in which six naked girls, including yours truly, struggled to make their way uphill … enduring at each step of the way, the bite of the lash, the dead weight of a patibulum resting on their shoulders as well as a flood of verbal abuse from a raucous crowd.
And, as you can well imagine, it took some time for us to make our way to the array of six massive French premium wood stipites erected side-by-side in a row upon the high ground, their intricately carved phallus-like heads silhouetted against the rainbow hues of a strikingly beautiful sunset.
I, for one, had managed to fall to the ground more than once as I struggled to carry my burden up the slope, driven each time under the lash to regain my footing and press onward. I don’t believe any of the others fared any better.
And, of course, upon reaching the crest in a state of exhaustion, we all shed our burden as quickly as we could and threw ourselves to the ground … some of us dropping to our hands and knees, others either stretching out on the ground or adopting a siting position with knees drawn up and heads slumped forward.
Now, dear diary, here’s where it gets interesting because unbeknownst to nearly everyone, as a special surprise, our artistic director, @bobinder had brought in the world-renown ‘crux impresario’, @phlebas , all the way from Australia, to stage our crucifixions with enough realism and showmanship to completely bedazzle the expectant mob … I mean crowd … rapidly gathering round us.
Dressed as a Roman Optio, and ably assisted by his Germanic auxiliary subaltern, @Hugin&Munin , he shouted out orders to the members of his legionary execution detail played by Bull, Gunner, @Harsh Martinet , @Fossy , @wulf , @bindhertocross , @twonines and @Davec5299 .
The act of getting us up on our crosses required that they work in teams of five. Since there was ten of them that meant two teams. And since, according to the reenactment script the first to be crucified were to be @Eulalia and myself, she and I were immediately descended upon by our respective teams.
Grasped and dragged from where we sat on the ground, we soon found ourselves thrown down on our backs, with wrists seized and pinned to the patibula placed just above our heads
I was attended to by Phlebas, HarshMartinet, Fossy, Twonines, and Bull; Eul by Hugin&Munin, Dave, Bindertocross, and Gunner.
In my case, Bull knelt over me, straddling my hips and leaning forward to press down on my shoulders, effectively pinning me down with his considerable bulk. Phlebas and HarshMartinet held my wrists tightly in place against the patibulum while Fossy and Twonines … armed with hammer and nails prepared to affix them to the patibulum. In Eul’s case, it was Gunner holding her down, while the other four attended to the task of nailing.
Now, dear diary, I must digress here in my telling to take up the subject of nails. Rather than the kind of crudely fashioned, heavy iron nails the real Romans might have used, the reenactment employed instead the special sterile thin nail created and supplied for the show by @mp5stab .
Let me tell you, though, having those nails driven through my thin little wrists was no picnic. It hurt like hell, and I bucked, squirmed and screamed like a banshee, as did @Eulalia … although true to her nature, she accepted it more resignedly than I did. In fact, I bucked so hard, I nearly threw Bull, which you’d have to agree was no easy feat.
But, all in all, it went down as Phlebas had planned it, with all the action caught in closeup live action cam shots beamed up, for the benefit of the crowd, onto two large Jumbotron screens set up expressly for that purpose.
A final word on those nails … remarkably, after being hammered through flesh and cartilage, which as I said hurt like hell, they did little of lasting damage, nor did they cause infection. If you could see my wrists and feet right now, dear diary … which of course you can’t … you’d observe that I’m wearing four bandages, but suffering no visible ill effects.
So then … back to the action. Having nailed Eul and me to our patibula, Phlebas and Hugin&Munin, along with their teams, moved on to repeat their performances with the other four girls … two to Eul’s and my left and two to our right. And for the next twenty minutes or so, the air was filled with the cries and curses coming from four throats amid the ringing sounds of hammerheads striking on nails and a raucous loudly cheering crowd.
Of the four, @messaline took the ordeal most calmly, nonchalantly humming a traditional French tune and occasionally calling out to her lover, Judith, who hovered faithfully nearby. Likewise, @mp5stab seemed to be in her element, shouting out something about hair and nails in between screaming and cursing, and like me, bucking enough to nearly unseat the Arkansasian behemoth attempting to pin her down.
And off to my immediate left, @Darkprincess69 seemed to be interested in throwing me provocatively lustful glances despite the horror of being brutally nailed to the wood. I also noticed for the first time … I didn’t know how I could have missed it earlier … that she was wearing a pair of red heels unlike the rest of us who were all barefoot.
But of all of us, it was Ms Prudely who appeared most distraught. It was clear that she’d come to the conclusion that she’d bitten off more than she could chew, as the saying goes. She was desperately begging to bow out, but no one seemed to be listening or care.
And that, dear diary, brings us to the raising and fixing on our crosses part. But once again, I need to leave you wondering. As it’s 3 am and time to change my bandages.
Back soon.
TBC
Oh, come on, Barb... what's happened to your acute powers of observation? If that had been me wearing high heels you'd have been on it like a panther!
(Heathrow airport) "And are you here for business or pleasure, sir?"
"A little of both, actually"
An evocative image, and of course I made sure it was recorded for posterity, and from the familiar approved Barb angles
Ah, there's nothing like the hands on approach to crucifixion, warm flesh trembling in anticipation, that spark of first contact hammer on nail head, happy times . . . . . .
messaline
Crucified Amazon
I was screaming ........ a little, though ...
" Alouette, gentille alouette ........ "
"Oooooooh, Judith ! I love you so much !!! "
...
bindhertocross
Magistrate
I've developed a few of the pictures of the lovely ladies on the cross, three more to come.
That pic on the side of the carton ought to boost sales … or maybe not
I was screaming ........ a little, though ...
" Alouette, gentille alouette ........ "
"Oooooooh, Judith ! I love you so much !!! "
View attachment 1514110 ...
Nice post, Messa!
messaline
Crucified Amazon
If you've more, dont hesitate ! ...
This is how cost overruns happen - is it necessary to spend extra time intricately carving these things? I suppose it adds a sense of artistry...
I OBSERVED THE ENTIRE EPISODE WITH NO PREMONITION OF ANYONE'S DEMISE. IN THE END, I FOUND IT A MOST RELAXING AFTERNOON.
Gives the whole thing a sense of occasion and style, I'm sure.
Now, now, Miss Prudely. You'll be fine. In for a penny; in for a pound, as they say.
bindhertocross
Magistrate
I'll send you a set of images of you that came out of AI, through PM
bindhertocross
Magistrate
Yes, Mr Fossy, it was quite the experience grabbing those lovely legs of theirs and positioning them to get an acceptable foot angle to accommodate the nails. And watching their faces and hearing the screams as the nails were driven in stroke by stroke.
Not to mention the amazing views of their naked bodies as we worked on them!
Before you cut the price, I'll check with cruxforums, there should be a few takers at the full price, maybe we can get Barb to autograph them? That way we can drive up the price.
19.
IN MY BED, LATE ON A SATURDAY NIGHT IN AUGUST, THE EVENT CONCLUDED AND THE CROWDS GONE HOME (part 6)
Okay, dear diary, thanks for waiting. I’m back now to finish my recounting of my crucifixion in the grand finale of the “The Cruxton Abbey Judicial Punishments and Executions through the Ages Live Reenactments Review” As you’ll recall, I’d gotten as far as relating to you how we girls had been nailed by the wrists to our respective patibula.
Next, as anyone familiar with crucifixion would know, comes the task of raising the victims up, securing their patibula to the waiting stipites, and nailing their feet.
And that is where Tree’s impressive ingenuity and know-how came into play (I’m saying that to flatter him as, truth be told, most of Tree’s accomplishments can be explained by pure dumb luck).
The plan was actually straightforward enough. It called for a ladder to be placed against a stipes and mounted by Tree, carrying a very large hammer. Then Bull and Gunner, both of whom are extraordinarily tall and muscular guys, were to grasp a patibulum (with its victim already attached at the wrists), lift it on high (imagine well over their heads) and slide it into a pre-prepared notch cut into the face of the stipes. At that point Tree was to use the hammer to bludgeon it into place and then secure it with a pair of genuine-imitation, realistic-looking Roman nails, marketed exclusively through NailusMartyrs.com.
Sounds simple enough, right? What could possibly go wrong? Well, I being the first to be raised, was about to find out.
It all started out well enough, with Bull and Gunner, working in perfect unison, grasping either end of my patibulum in their huge paws and lifting it and me, seemingly effortlessly, off the ground. I twisted and turned, screamed and hollered like a banshee as the nails driven through my wrists pressed on nerve endings which in turn sent thunderbolts of ‘pain messaging’ through my nervous system. And, once off the ground I kicked and thrashed wildly with my legs … all in all, putting on a show that delighted the crowd.
But, as my patibulum was about to be pressed into the notch awaiting it, the heel of one of my wildly flailing legs happened to catch Tree right between his legs, eliciting a howl of surprised shock and causing him to double over and grab his crotch, and to drop the big hammer, which landed on the bridge of Gunner’s realistically-styled faux Roman legionary footwear, causing the lummox to hop about on one foot and to let go of his end of the patibulum, which in turn caused Bull to lose his balance and do a pratfall. While I, along with my patibulum, plummeted to the ground, landing not far from where I had been lying when this all began.
The crowd, thinking this had all been deliberately staged as some kind of comic relief, laughed and applauded wildly.
As they say in show business, the show must go on! With both Tree and Gunner temporarily disabled, others moved swiftly to pick up where they’d left off.
And it wasn’t long before I was raised again, this time successfully, my flailing legs grabbed, forced to bend at the knees, and my feet held firmly in place while nails were driven through them, pinning them to the wood.
Crucified, I was left with nothing more to do than begin with the suffering … writhing and twisting myself about, endlessly pushing/pulling myself up only to fall back, screaming and cursing … all the classic elements of the so-called ‘dance of the crucified’ … and so I danced while the other five were raised and secured, one by one, without further mishap, to join in and suffer along with me
And so, dear diary, for the next three and a half hours the crowd was entertained by the spectacle of six naked girls, dancing on their crosses, putting on for all in attendance the show of a lifetime. Surging forward, the throng. eagerly formed itself into long lines, the attendees patiently waiting their turn to file past and amongst us, to mercilessly mock and taunt each and every one of us in turn, to revel unabashedly in our discomforts and sufferings.
For we Cruxgirls, it was an exhausting, painful, frightful and humiliating … not to mention seemingly interminable … experience. The only respite we received during our time on the cross was a sponge on a stick, soaked in Riesling and pressed to our parched lips about three quarters of the way through our ordeal. That was welcome, but totally insufficient in my opinion, not to mention the fact that most of it ended up running down our chins. I tried to complain but was ignored.
Of course, all this eventually came to an end, largely due to a Cruxton Council ordinance
that required all public events to come to an end by the midnight hour. At which point the crowd slowly dispersed, retiring dorm the slope, still in a holiday-like mood. The parking lot was soon lit up with head beams and red taillights as it gradually emptied.
And mercifully, shortly thereafter, we were all taken down from our crosses, laid on stretchers and taken into the Abbey to receive a bit of first aid before sent off to our sleeping quarters for a well deserved rest. We were all relieved to see Tree and Gunner limping along beside us, both having apparently recovered somewhat from their misfortunes.
As we passed into the Manor through the main entry, no less, with Briggs standing stiffly by, we were welcomed by Lord and Lady Wragg who graciously thanked each and everyone of us individually for laying our bodies on the line to save Cruxton Abbey in its time of need.
I felt rather proud at that moment. I wasn’t accustomed to being thanked for anything by either m’Lord or m’Lady … being sent to the cellar for ‘corrective punishment’, in retribution for having caused some mishap or another, being more the rule. Perhaps a raise in my wages may be in the offing, I thought, as I smiled wanly and chose to ignore the way in which his Lordship gave one of my boobs a quick little fondle as he leaned in close to express his gratitude.
And so, dear diary, that’s the way it was. The Crisis at Cruxton Abbey had been successfully averted, thanks to the dedication and sufferings of so many Cruxgirls like myself … both members of the staff here, as well as others like Messaline, Mp5stab and poor Ms Prudely … who also put their bodies on the line.
Time to get some of that well-earned rest now.
EPILOGUE TO FOLLOW
IN MY BED, LATE ON A SATURDAY NIGHT IN AUGUST, THE EVENT CONCLUDED AND THE CROWDS GONE HOME (part 6)
Okay, dear diary, thanks for waiting. I’m back now to finish my recounting of my crucifixion in the grand finale of the “The Cruxton Abbey Judicial Punishments and Executions through the Ages Live Reenactments Review” As you’ll recall, I’d gotten as far as relating to you how we girls had been nailed by the wrists to our respective patibula.
Next, as anyone familiar with crucifixion would know, comes the task of raising the victims up, securing their patibula to the waiting stipites, and nailing their feet.
And that is where Tree’s impressive ingenuity and know-how came into play (I’m saying that to flatter him as, truth be told, most of Tree’s accomplishments can be explained by pure dumb luck).
The plan was actually straightforward enough. It called for a ladder to be placed against a stipes and mounted by Tree, carrying a very large hammer. Then Bull and Gunner, both of whom are extraordinarily tall and muscular guys, were to grasp a patibulum (with its victim already attached at the wrists), lift it on high (imagine well over their heads) and slide it into a pre-prepared notch cut into the face of the stipes. At that point Tree was to use the hammer to bludgeon it into place and then secure it with a pair of genuine-imitation, realistic-looking Roman nails, marketed exclusively through NailusMartyrs.com.
Sounds simple enough, right? What could possibly go wrong? Well, I being the first to be raised, was about to find out.
It all started out well enough, with Bull and Gunner, working in perfect unison, grasping either end of my patibulum in their huge paws and lifting it and me, seemingly effortlessly, off the ground. I twisted and turned, screamed and hollered like a banshee as the nails driven through my wrists pressed on nerve endings which in turn sent thunderbolts of ‘pain messaging’ through my nervous system. And, once off the ground I kicked and thrashed wildly with my legs … all in all, putting on a show that delighted the crowd.
But, as my patibulum was about to be pressed into the notch awaiting it, the heel of one of my wildly flailing legs happened to catch Tree right between his legs, eliciting a howl of surprised shock and causing him to double over and grab his crotch, and to drop the big hammer, which landed on the bridge of Gunner’s realistically-styled faux Roman legionary footwear, causing the lummox to hop about on one foot and to let go of his end of the patibulum, which in turn caused Bull to lose his balance and do a pratfall. While I, along with my patibulum, plummeted to the ground, landing not far from where I had been lying when this all began.
The crowd, thinking this had all been deliberately staged as some kind of comic relief, laughed and applauded wildly.
As they say in show business, the show must go on! With both Tree and Gunner temporarily disabled, others moved swiftly to pick up where they’d left off.
And it wasn’t long before I was raised again, this time successfully, my flailing legs grabbed, forced to bend at the knees, and my feet held firmly in place while nails were driven through them, pinning them to the wood.
Crucified, I was left with nothing more to do than begin with the suffering … writhing and twisting myself about, endlessly pushing/pulling myself up only to fall back, screaming and cursing … all the classic elements of the so-called ‘dance of the crucified’ … and so I danced while the other five were raised and secured, one by one, without further mishap, to join in and suffer along with me
And so, dear diary, for the next three and a half hours the crowd was entertained by the spectacle of six naked girls, dancing on their crosses, putting on for all in attendance the show of a lifetime. Surging forward, the throng. eagerly formed itself into long lines, the attendees patiently waiting their turn to file past and amongst us, to mercilessly mock and taunt each and every one of us in turn, to revel unabashedly in our discomforts and sufferings.
For we Cruxgirls, it was an exhausting, painful, frightful and humiliating … not to mention seemingly interminable … experience. The only respite we received during our time on the cross was a sponge on a stick, soaked in Riesling and pressed to our parched lips about three quarters of the way through our ordeal. That was welcome, but totally insufficient in my opinion, not to mention the fact that most of it ended up running down our chins. I tried to complain but was ignored.
Of course, all this eventually came to an end, largely due to a Cruxton Council ordinance
that required all public events to come to an end by the midnight hour. At which point the crowd slowly dispersed, retiring dorm the slope, still in a holiday-like mood. The parking lot was soon lit up with head beams and red taillights as it gradually emptied.
And mercifully, shortly thereafter, we were all taken down from our crosses, laid on stretchers and taken into the Abbey to receive a bit of first aid before sent off to our sleeping quarters for a well deserved rest. We were all relieved to see Tree and Gunner limping along beside us, both having apparently recovered somewhat from their misfortunes.
As we passed into the Manor through the main entry, no less, with Briggs standing stiffly by, we were welcomed by Lord and Lady Wragg who graciously thanked each and everyone of us individually for laying our bodies on the line to save Cruxton Abbey in its time of need.
I felt rather proud at that moment. I wasn’t accustomed to being thanked for anything by either m’Lord or m’Lady … being sent to the cellar for ‘corrective punishment’, in retribution for having caused some mishap or another, being more the rule. Perhaps a raise in my wages may be in the offing, I thought, as I smiled wanly and chose to ignore the way in which his Lordship gave one of my boobs a quick little fondle as he leaned in close to express his gratitude.
And so, dear diary, that’s the way it was. The Crisis at Cruxton Abbey had been successfully averted, thanks to the dedication and sufferings of so many Cruxgirls like myself … both members of the staff here, as well as others like Messaline, Mp5stab and poor Ms Prudely … who also put their bodies on the line.
Time to get some of that well-earned rest now.
EPILOGUE TO FOLLOW
Last edited:
Which he gets more than his fair share of when it comes to crucifying beautiful women.
Ah, there's nothing like a well-executed crucifixion.
And this was nothing like a well-executed crucifixion.
She'll be after more Riesling!
