and with heels like knives is madame very dangerousMelissa Rauch
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Cruxton Abbey
- Thread starter Wragg
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Part 3
Barbara awoke to a dreadful commotion outside. Siss was still there, but of Mrs Evans there was no sign.
Screams that made her blood curdle. What on earth were they doing to those poor maids?
She grabbed her robe and went to the window, from which she recoiled in horror.
Roxie and Blaire were tied to posts, and they had got a couple of weals each to show for. But it was not them who were screaming, nor were they, at that moment, being thrashed. In fact, they were twisting round against their bonds, trying to watch what was happening.
The whip lay, useless, on the ground. The owner of the whip, Mrs Evans, was in deep, deep trouble.
Barbara watched, aghast, as Mrs Evans, naked, was held down on a cross by the footmen, Bull and Gunner. Nearby, a plentiful supply of fresh crosses lay waiting.
Paulson, the butler, was also naked, and was being nailed to yet another cross. His screams joined those of the housekeeper as nails penetrated his wrists and heels.
“Siss! My God! It’s like a scene from Hell!”
The screams multiplied in intensity as Mrs Evans felt the first nail.
Siss joined her at the window, wrapping herself in a sheet. “What on earth….”
There was urgent knocking on the door, then it was unlocked and Tanda came in.
“Milady, quick! Oh, begging your pardon Milady, Mrs Cruz!” She curtsied.
“Tanda! What are they doing?”
“The house is under attack, milady! Mr Tree has brought about a hundred thugs, I think he wants to crucify all of us on the front lawn!”
“What the hell does he want to do that for?”
“I don’t understand him, milady, he keeps on about ‘Victory to the Working Classes’ and ‘Death to the Aristocracy’”
“But…but… Paulson and Mrs Evans aren’t aristocracy!”
“He calls them ‘collaborators’, Milady…..hurry! I need to get you out the back way!”
“What? Dressed like this?”
“Milady, NOW! There’s no…..”
But it was too late. Four men burst into the room.
“Oh, what have we here? Lady Barbara, I believe? Well Lady Barbara, guess what? We’ve got a lovely cross, just for you, and you can hang there and watch your grotesque house burn to the ground!”
Barbara was furious. “How dare you? How DARE you burst in here like this. GET OUT!!!! NOWWW!!!”
“I’m afraid milady, you’re no longer the one giving orders! Your class is finished! This is happenin’ at big piles like this all across England!”
He advanced towards Barbara, but Tanda blocked his way. “Leave her alone! She’s done nothing to you! Do as she says, and go!”
“Now then, darlin’, this is not your fight. You’re one of the oppressed majority, you are! You’re free! Now run along and enjoy your freedom!”
“No! I won’t leave her, I won’t! She’s always been fair and good to me!”
“It’s your choice, darlin’ – but look out there, and see what’s comin’ if you make the wrong one.”
From the window came the sound of a hammer on steel, and Mrs Evans’ cries of tortured agony.
“Tanda, go! It’s not worth it!” Barbara had tears in her eyes.
“No, Milady!” Tanda clung to her. “I don’t care what they do to me, I’m staying with you!”
“Fine. Take them down!”
“Not me, you don’t!” said Siss. “I’ve got dual Brazilian / US nationality!”
From outside the window came more sounds of hammers striking nails. More screams, too – a man.
“Brazilian? There’s a coincidence! That’s what he said, too!”
Siss stared in horror through the window as TC’s cross dropped into its socket. “TC! Christ! He’s the Brazilian Ambassador, you idiots! Do you want a war with Brazil?”
“He looks like a toff, he smells like a toff, and he screams like a toff!” the man grinned. “Therefore he IS a toff! Come on, no time to stand around chattin’, let’s get you down there to keep him company!”
Siss shuddered. This was a long way from the fake crucifixions at the club and in the woods. It seemed Mr Tree had decided to do it for real this time. She wondered how much it would hurt. A lot, judging by the din being made by the ones so far crucified.
They pushed Lady Barbara, in her silk dressing gown, down the great staircase, across the great hall, and out through the front door. Everybody was gathered in front of the house. Her parents and sisters, still in their nightclothes, each held by a mean looking thug.
There was a terrible ripping sound as Princess Yupar’s nightdress was torn off by Gunner. Prince Shevak was being forced to watch. The Earl was furious. “That is the heir and heiress to the throne of Yuwait! Release them!” He was silenced by a punch in the face from his guard.
Shevak struggled with his captors, swearing at them in the kind of Arabic that it would be difficult to translate, but it was all to no avail, as Gunner dragged her to her cross. She screamed and struggled, which made him all the more violent. Barbara resolved to be as passive as possible if….when… it happened to her.
Yupar was now stretched out on her cross. Barbara watched in horrified fascination. At the same time, Shevak’s guards were stripping him. Barbara was stunned to see that he, too was erect. How could he be aroused at a time like this, facing his own torture and death?
God! The size of those nails! Yupar’s wrists were slender, she, too, was petite, how could such slim wrists take such huge nails? Barbara thought of Erin, slim pretty Erin, also watching in horror….
Yupar bellowed in agony and outrage as Tree drove that awful piece of ironmongery through her wrist and deep into the wood of the cross with his first blow.
Barbara felt tears on her face. This could not be happening! She tried pinching herself, as she has done in the woods, to wake herself up, but this was a real, living nightmare. The blood, the screams of the crucified, the curses and wails of those awaiting their fate, the cheers of Tree’s henchmen, and the clanging of the hammer on the nail as it rose and fell, rose and fell; a dreadful cacophony of sights and sounds that tied Barbara’s stomach in knots. And this was shortly going to happen to her!
Barbara turned aside, and vomited. Her guard deftly stepped out of the way.
As she turned to look again, Yupar’s cross was being raised. It crashed into its socket, and Yupar’s tortured body thrashed like a rag doll with the violence of the cross slamming into the ground. She howled piteously. Her eyes opened, and she looked into Barbara’s face: “Help me! Barbara! It hurts! It hurts sooooo much!”
They began to push the naked Shevak towards his cross. “No!” Said Tree. He pointed at Barbara. “She’s next!”
Barbara awoke to a dreadful commotion outside. Siss was still there, but of Mrs Evans there was no sign.
Screams that made her blood curdle. What on earth were they doing to those poor maids?
She grabbed her robe and went to the window, from which she recoiled in horror.
Roxie and Blaire were tied to posts, and they had got a couple of weals each to show for. But it was not them who were screaming, nor were they, at that moment, being thrashed. In fact, they were twisting round against their bonds, trying to watch what was happening.
The whip lay, useless, on the ground. The owner of the whip, Mrs Evans, was in deep, deep trouble.
Barbara watched, aghast, as Mrs Evans, naked, was held down on a cross by the footmen, Bull and Gunner. Nearby, a plentiful supply of fresh crosses lay waiting.
Paulson, the butler, was also naked, and was being nailed to yet another cross. His screams joined those of the housekeeper as nails penetrated his wrists and heels.
“Siss! My God! It’s like a scene from Hell!”
The screams multiplied in intensity as Mrs Evans felt the first nail.
Siss joined her at the window, wrapping herself in a sheet. “What on earth….”
There was urgent knocking on the door, then it was unlocked and Tanda came in.
“Milady, quick! Oh, begging your pardon Milady, Mrs Cruz!” She curtsied.
“Tanda! What are they doing?”
“The house is under attack, milady! Mr Tree has brought about a hundred thugs, I think he wants to crucify all of us on the front lawn!”
“What the hell does he want to do that for?”
“I don’t understand him, milady, he keeps on about ‘Victory to the Working Classes’ and ‘Death to the Aristocracy’”
“But…but… Paulson and Mrs Evans aren’t aristocracy!”
“He calls them ‘collaborators’, Milady…..hurry! I need to get you out the back way!”
“What? Dressed like this?”
“Milady, NOW! There’s no…..”
But it was too late. Four men burst into the room.
“Oh, what have we here? Lady Barbara, I believe? Well Lady Barbara, guess what? We’ve got a lovely cross, just for you, and you can hang there and watch your grotesque house burn to the ground!”
Barbara was furious. “How dare you? How DARE you burst in here like this. GET OUT!!!! NOWWW!!!”
“I’m afraid milady, you’re no longer the one giving orders! Your class is finished! This is happenin’ at big piles like this all across England!”
He advanced towards Barbara, but Tanda blocked his way. “Leave her alone! She’s done nothing to you! Do as she says, and go!”
“Now then, darlin’, this is not your fight. You’re one of the oppressed majority, you are! You’re free! Now run along and enjoy your freedom!”
“No! I won’t leave her, I won’t! She’s always been fair and good to me!”
“It’s your choice, darlin’ – but look out there, and see what’s comin’ if you make the wrong one.”
From the window came the sound of a hammer on steel, and Mrs Evans’ cries of tortured agony.
“Tanda, go! It’s not worth it!” Barbara had tears in her eyes.
“No, Milady!” Tanda clung to her. “I don’t care what they do to me, I’m staying with you!”
“Fine. Take them down!”
“Not me, you don’t!” said Siss. “I’ve got dual Brazilian / US nationality!”
From outside the window came more sounds of hammers striking nails. More screams, too – a man.
“Brazilian? There’s a coincidence! That’s what he said, too!”
Siss stared in horror through the window as TC’s cross dropped into its socket. “TC! Christ! He’s the Brazilian Ambassador, you idiots! Do you want a war with Brazil?”
“He looks like a toff, he smells like a toff, and he screams like a toff!” the man grinned. “Therefore he IS a toff! Come on, no time to stand around chattin’, let’s get you down there to keep him company!”
Siss shuddered. This was a long way from the fake crucifixions at the club and in the woods. It seemed Mr Tree had decided to do it for real this time. She wondered how much it would hurt. A lot, judging by the din being made by the ones so far crucified.
They pushed Lady Barbara, in her silk dressing gown, down the great staircase, across the great hall, and out through the front door. Everybody was gathered in front of the house. Her parents and sisters, still in their nightclothes, each held by a mean looking thug.
There was a terrible ripping sound as Princess Yupar’s nightdress was torn off by Gunner. Prince Shevak was being forced to watch. The Earl was furious. “That is the heir and heiress to the throne of Yuwait! Release them!” He was silenced by a punch in the face from his guard.
Shevak struggled with his captors, swearing at them in the kind of Arabic that it would be difficult to translate, but it was all to no avail, as Gunner dragged her to her cross. She screamed and struggled, which made him all the more violent. Barbara resolved to be as passive as possible if….when… it happened to her.
Yupar was now stretched out on her cross. Barbara watched in horrified fascination. At the same time, Shevak’s guards were stripping him. Barbara was stunned to see that he, too was erect. How could he be aroused at a time like this, facing his own torture and death?
God! The size of those nails! Yupar’s wrists were slender, she, too, was petite, how could such slim wrists take such huge nails? Barbara thought of Erin, slim pretty Erin, also watching in horror….
Yupar bellowed in agony and outrage as Tree drove that awful piece of ironmongery through her wrist and deep into the wood of the cross with his first blow.
Barbara felt tears on her face. This could not be happening! She tried pinching herself, as she has done in the woods, to wake herself up, but this was a real, living nightmare. The blood, the screams of the crucified, the curses and wails of those awaiting their fate, the cheers of Tree’s henchmen, and the clanging of the hammer on the nail as it rose and fell, rose and fell; a dreadful cacophony of sights and sounds that tied Barbara’s stomach in knots. And this was shortly going to happen to her!
Barbara turned aside, and vomited. Her guard deftly stepped out of the way.
As she turned to look again, Yupar’s cross was being raised. It crashed into its socket, and Yupar’s tortured body thrashed like a rag doll with the violence of the cross slamming into the ground. She howled piteously. Her eyes opened, and she looked into Barbara’s face: “Help me! Barbara! It hurts! It hurts sooooo much!”
They began to push the naked Shevak towards his cross. “No!” Said Tree. He pointed at Barbara. “She’s next!”
Barbara felt a knot in her stomach. Her turn? So soon?
Tree waved at Roxie and Blaire. They had been released, but for some unfathomable reason none of the men had bothered giving them anything to wear….
“Come on. You do it!”
Blaire looked thunderstruck. “Me?”
“Both of you, come on, we haven’t got all day!”
They tiptoed over, trying not to cut their bare feet on the gravelled drive, then much happier, on reaching the lawn, to have the dewy grass under their feet.
“Get that robe off her!”
Roxie grabbed Barb’s silken robe by the collar and pulled it back and down.
As Barb felt the chill, damp, morning air on her bare breasts a hush fell over those present. Even those on their crosses forgot their own suffering, entranced by her beauty. As her nipples tightened in the cold, she looked like Aurora, the Goddess of the Dawn.
Eulalia, despite her distress, thought of Tennyson:
Once more the old mysterious glimmer steals
From thy pure brows, and from thy shoulders pure,
And bosom beating with a heart renewed.
Thy cheek begins to redden through the gloom,
Thy sweet eyes brighten slowly close to mine,
Ere yet they blind the stars, and the wild team
Which love thee, yearning for thy yoke, arise,
And shake the darkness from their loosened manes,
And beat the twilight into flakes of a fire
Bull and Gunner, less in touch with the poetry of the moment, pulled her off her feet and dragged her to the cross.
Barbara found herself looking up at the sky, and she felt splinters from the rough wood entering her back and her bum.
They pulled her wrists out onto the cross. Remembering her mental note, she lay passive, resigned to her fate. She watched as Tree passed one of those awful spikes to Roxie, she saw the tears on Roxie’s face. As Roxie raised the hammer, she shut her eyes.
There was the distant sound of steel on gravel. Her eyes flew open. Roxie had thrown the nail the best part of a hundred yards.
“I’m sorry, milady, I just…couldn’t, milady!”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” groaned Tree. “You don’t call a nude woman on a cross ‘milady’! You call her ‘slave!’ Give it here!”
Barbara shut her eyes again. This time she knew there’d be no mistake.
Nor was there. She felt the shock of the blow, and heard the hammer strike, a fraction of a second before her nerves responded to the spike in her flesh.
Then her world was blinding, agonising, screaming pain. Self control was lost, the survival instinct to get away from that god-awful cross took over. She screamed and fought, she had to get off that cross, at all costs.
But Bull and Gunner held her firmly in place. Panic seized her. “NOOOO!! LET ME GO!!!!”
It was no good. The hammer fell again. And again. It kept on pounding the nail until her wrist was firmly fixed to that cross.
She saw Tree cross to the other wrist. This time she knew what was coming. She was screaming before the hammer struck, and then searing fireballs of pain were consuming both her wrists.
They had trouble with her heels. Legs are so much more powerful than arms, especially when powered by pain, outrage, and panic; and it took both Bull and Gunner together to hold her foot still enough for Tree to drive a nail through her heel. Barbara had not thought there could be pain worse than nails through her wrists, but Tree quickly proved that a nail in a heel is much, much worse. By the time he turned his attention to the final nail, Barbara was hyperventilating with the pain, the movement of her breasts as she gulped huge lungfuls of air in great groaning gasps entranced all, but for the watching Shevak it was rather more evident. Barbara, even in her pain, couldn’t help noticing, and suddenly she realised that, as she fought her crucifixion, she was a spectacular site, and arousal was added to pain.
The cross started to move. Oh, no! They were standing it up! She wasn’t ready – she’d never be ready! She could see her family, the looks of horror on her sisters’ faces, and on her mother’s, but….
Where was her father?
He was nowhere to be seen.
What had they done with him?
The cross fell into its socket with a mighty jolt, and Barbara bellowed as she was thrown forward, then arrested by four spikes.
Job done. Barbara watched, helplessly, as they tore Siss’ sheet from her. They were still keeping Shevak waiting.
CRASH!!!!
Barb jumped, painfully, in surprise. The Rolls Royce appeared, bits of garage door still attached to various parts of it, engine screaming in first gear. Barbara glimpsed the Earl, fighting to control the vehicle, as it careered off along the drive.
“Oh….SHIT!!” Tree sprinted for the stables.
Tree waved at Roxie and Blaire. They had been released, but for some unfathomable reason none of the men had bothered giving them anything to wear….
“Come on. You do it!”
Blaire looked thunderstruck. “Me?”
“Both of you, come on, we haven’t got all day!”
They tiptoed over, trying not to cut their bare feet on the gravelled drive, then much happier, on reaching the lawn, to have the dewy grass under their feet.
“Get that robe off her!”
Roxie grabbed Barb’s silken robe by the collar and pulled it back and down.
As Barb felt the chill, damp, morning air on her bare breasts a hush fell over those present. Even those on their crosses forgot their own suffering, entranced by her beauty. As her nipples tightened in the cold, she looked like Aurora, the Goddess of the Dawn.
Eulalia, despite her distress, thought of Tennyson:
Once more the old mysterious glimmer steals
From thy pure brows, and from thy shoulders pure,
And bosom beating with a heart renewed.
Thy cheek begins to redden through the gloom,
Thy sweet eyes brighten slowly close to mine,
Ere yet they blind the stars, and the wild team
Which love thee, yearning for thy yoke, arise,
And shake the darkness from their loosened manes,
And beat the twilight into flakes of a fire
Bull and Gunner, less in touch with the poetry of the moment, pulled her off her feet and dragged her to the cross.
Barbara found herself looking up at the sky, and she felt splinters from the rough wood entering her back and her bum.
They pulled her wrists out onto the cross. Remembering her mental note, she lay passive, resigned to her fate. She watched as Tree passed one of those awful spikes to Roxie, she saw the tears on Roxie’s face. As Roxie raised the hammer, she shut her eyes.
There was the distant sound of steel on gravel. Her eyes flew open. Roxie had thrown the nail the best part of a hundred yards.
“I’m sorry, milady, I just…couldn’t, milady!”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” groaned Tree. “You don’t call a nude woman on a cross ‘milady’! You call her ‘slave!’ Give it here!”
Barbara shut her eyes again. This time she knew there’d be no mistake.
Nor was there. She felt the shock of the blow, and heard the hammer strike, a fraction of a second before her nerves responded to the spike in her flesh.
Then her world was blinding, agonising, screaming pain. Self control was lost, the survival instinct to get away from that god-awful cross took over. She screamed and fought, she had to get off that cross, at all costs.
But Bull and Gunner held her firmly in place. Panic seized her. “NOOOO!! LET ME GO!!!!”
It was no good. The hammer fell again. And again. It kept on pounding the nail until her wrist was firmly fixed to that cross.
She saw Tree cross to the other wrist. This time she knew what was coming. She was screaming before the hammer struck, and then searing fireballs of pain were consuming both her wrists.
They had trouble with her heels. Legs are so much more powerful than arms, especially when powered by pain, outrage, and panic; and it took both Bull and Gunner together to hold her foot still enough for Tree to drive a nail through her heel. Barbara had not thought there could be pain worse than nails through her wrists, but Tree quickly proved that a nail in a heel is much, much worse. By the time he turned his attention to the final nail, Barbara was hyperventilating with the pain, the movement of her breasts as she gulped huge lungfuls of air in great groaning gasps entranced all, but for the watching Shevak it was rather more evident. Barbara, even in her pain, couldn’t help noticing, and suddenly she realised that, as she fought her crucifixion, she was a spectacular site, and arousal was added to pain.
The cross started to move. Oh, no! They were standing it up! She wasn’t ready – she’d never be ready! She could see her family, the looks of horror on her sisters’ faces, and on her mother’s, but….
Where was her father?
He was nowhere to be seen.
What had they done with him?
The cross fell into its socket with a mighty jolt, and Barbara bellowed as she was thrown forward, then arrested by four spikes.
Job done. Barbara watched, helplessly, as they tore Siss’ sheet from her. They were still keeping Shevak waiting.
CRASH!!!!
Barb jumped, painfully, in surprise. The Rolls Royce appeared, bits of garage door still attached to various parts of it, engine screaming in first gear. Barbara glimpsed the Earl, fighting to control the vehicle, as it careered off along the drive.
“Oh….SHIT!!” Tree sprinted for the stables.
Good to see you back in the saddle Wragg,
Tree
Tree
Thanks Tree, without wishing to issue spoilers that's a metaphor you may come to regret....
...fucking bastard...Thanks Tree, without wishing to issue spoilers that's a metaphor you may come to regret....
Tree
I would be happy to let Siss go first, really I would
Oh Thanks Roxie ..... be a little more gentle, huh
Always the gentlemen....
Roxie comes through in the end....I will see that you get to stick around for awhile in 1942
At least he didn't call me "cunt"
Guess who is next.....hehehehehe
GREAT EPISODE WRAGG
always a happy condemned woman our BarbI would be happy to let Siss go first, really I would
Oh Thanks Roxie ..... be a little more gentle, huh
Always the gentlemen....
Roxie comes through in the end....I will see that you get to stick around for awhile in 1942
At least he didn't call me "cunt"
Guess who is next.....hehehehehe
Assumption is the mother of all cock-ups. The only person in Tree’s gang that had much in the way of brains was Tree himself. Most of the others were only there on the promise of seeing some nude girls and of looting and burning the house once everyone was immobilised.
So the Earl’s guard had assumed, following his sharp punch, that the Earl had lost all interest in proceedings. He had therefore taken the opportunity to devote his full attention to the joys of Lady Barbara’s crucifixion, which he had enjoyed immensely. The Earl, resisting with great difficulty the urge to throttle the guard, took advantage of the fact that every eye was upon Barbara.
He slipped, unseen, around the corner of the Abbey, and managed to get into the garage by a side door.
He swung the starting handle, and that beautiful car started first time.
He realised that he didn’t have a key to the main door. Oh well. Nothing for it.
In the driving seat, he pressed the right-hand pedal and pushed the gear leaver forward.
With a scream of protest from the gearbox, the car leaped forwards, and smashed through the garage door.
He wrenched the wheel round and slammed the pedal to the floor, and hung on for dear life as the car roared down the drive. He saw Tree start moving, and realised that he had no time to lose.
He remembered that he had to change gear in order to go faster, but he also remembered that it involved disengaging the engine somehow. At that moment, he wasn’t keen on attempting that, so he just kept it where it was, in first gear.
With the engine screaming, he disappeared along the drive in a cloud of dust.
The departure of Tree in hot pursuit of the Earl was no respite to Siss. Bull and Gunner just carried on. They were enjoying themselves very much indeed.
Which Siss was not, as they dragged her smooth, silken buttocks up the wood of the cross, and then slammed her shoulders down hard. Gunner grabbed the hammer and bag of nails, while Bull pulled her arm out, none to gently.
Barbara felt that this crucifixion business gave a girl too much to worry about all at once. There was the nearly impossible job of finding one position that hurt less than any other; the question of how her father’s attempt to go for help was going, and her anger over what they were doing to Siss to deal with.
In this last respect at least , she had an ally, albeit one in no better position than herself to impose their will on Bull and Gunner. For a man crucified, TC was giving full voice to his grievances.
“Leave her! Leave her alone! By Christ, you just wait! You will regret what you are doing today! We have diplomatic immunity, for God’s sake! You just wait, I will live to see you punished in Brazil for this! We do not treat people like you lightly in Brazil! LEAVE HER ALONE!!!”
It was no good. Barb’s own cross shook with the impact of the hammer. Gunner was not brainy, but he was very, very strong, and, from where Barb was hanging, it looked as if that one blow had just about done the job for Siss’ left wrist.
For an instant, Siss just looked shocked, but then her tortured voice hit Barb like a train. Siss had had so many ‘mock’ crucifixions that she had completely underestimated how bad the real thing would be, even watching her beloved Barb being nailed to a cross, she hadn’t really believed that the agony could as awful as that she was now experiencing.
Barb hadn’t been far wrong. Two more blows and the nail was home.
They swapped roles for the right wrist, and Bull manned the hammer. His body blocked Barb’s view but the impact he was having on Siss was horribly clear to her.
She knew that the heels were worse. She saw Siss thrashing in agony. Her cries cut through Barb like a knife. Watching this happen to her dearest Siss was almost worse for Barb than her own crucifixion. She hung on her cross and cried, bitter tears pouring down her face.
As Siss’ cross was raised next to hers, she prayed her father would get safely through for help. It was their only hope.
So the Earl’s guard had assumed, following his sharp punch, that the Earl had lost all interest in proceedings. He had therefore taken the opportunity to devote his full attention to the joys of Lady Barbara’s crucifixion, which he had enjoyed immensely. The Earl, resisting with great difficulty the urge to throttle the guard, took advantage of the fact that every eye was upon Barbara.
He slipped, unseen, around the corner of the Abbey, and managed to get into the garage by a side door.
He swung the starting handle, and that beautiful car started first time.
He realised that he didn’t have a key to the main door. Oh well. Nothing for it.
In the driving seat, he pressed the right-hand pedal and pushed the gear leaver forward.
With a scream of protest from the gearbox, the car leaped forwards, and smashed through the garage door.
He wrenched the wheel round and slammed the pedal to the floor, and hung on for dear life as the car roared down the drive. He saw Tree start moving, and realised that he had no time to lose.
He remembered that he had to change gear in order to go faster, but he also remembered that it involved disengaging the engine somehow. At that moment, he wasn’t keen on attempting that, so he just kept it where it was, in first gear.
With the engine screaming, he disappeared along the drive in a cloud of dust.
The departure of Tree in hot pursuit of the Earl was no respite to Siss. Bull and Gunner just carried on. They were enjoying themselves very much indeed.
Which Siss was not, as they dragged her smooth, silken buttocks up the wood of the cross, and then slammed her shoulders down hard. Gunner grabbed the hammer and bag of nails, while Bull pulled her arm out, none to gently.
Barbara felt that this crucifixion business gave a girl too much to worry about all at once. There was the nearly impossible job of finding one position that hurt less than any other; the question of how her father’s attempt to go for help was going, and her anger over what they were doing to Siss to deal with.
In this last respect at least , she had an ally, albeit one in no better position than herself to impose their will on Bull and Gunner. For a man crucified, TC was giving full voice to his grievances.
“Leave her! Leave her alone! By Christ, you just wait! You will regret what you are doing today! We have diplomatic immunity, for God’s sake! You just wait, I will live to see you punished in Brazil for this! We do not treat people like you lightly in Brazil! LEAVE HER ALONE!!!”
It was no good. Barb’s own cross shook with the impact of the hammer. Gunner was not brainy, but he was very, very strong, and, from where Barb was hanging, it looked as if that one blow had just about done the job for Siss’ left wrist.
For an instant, Siss just looked shocked, but then her tortured voice hit Barb like a train. Siss had had so many ‘mock’ crucifixions that she had completely underestimated how bad the real thing would be, even watching her beloved Barb being nailed to a cross, she hadn’t really believed that the agony could as awful as that she was now experiencing.
Barb hadn’t been far wrong. Two more blows and the nail was home.
They swapped roles for the right wrist, and Bull manned the hammer. His body blocked Barb’s view but the impact he was having on Siss was horribly clear to her.
She knew that the heels were worse. She saw Siss thrashing in agony. Her cries cut through Barb like a knife. Watching this happen to her dearest Siss was almost worse for Barb than her own crucifixion. She hung on her cross and cried, bitter tears pouring down her face.
As Siss’ cross was raised next to hers, she prayed her father would get safely through for help. It was their only hope.
Well at least we ended up side-by-side....now Siss, what was it we were saying up in my room before this all began.....what?....well I am a lady....and this is high society....why shouldn't we have a pleasant little chat?
Uh, oh....the director seems a little upset with me....quiet on the set....roll 'em....."scream, scream" I am so suffering on this cross!
So now Barb "and Co" are Cruxed at Cruxton
Will the Earl figure out how to get the Rolls out of first gear?
Will Tree find a horse that can catch a Rolls (in first gear?)
Can you really claim diplomatic immunity from a cross?
Where is the Dowager?
So now Barb "and Co" are Cruxed at Cruxton
Will the Earl figure out how to get the Rolls out of first gear?
Will Tree find a horse that can catch a Rolls (in first gear?)
Can you really claim diplomatic immunity from a cross?
Where is the Dowager?
With production costs what they are, I do hope we don't have to wait until next season to find out
....my back is starting to itch up here on this wretched piece of old barn timber... and isn't it tea time yet?
.... I do hope this untidy little affair is all over before we need to assemble in the drawing room for sherry...
... Yes, where is the dowager....we need her to knock some proper sense into these people...have they lost all sense of who their superiors are? Some heads will most certainly roll when the Earl returns....
Oooooh, is that really blood running down my arm? Do have one of the maids draw me a bath!(Pic borrowed from Tree without permission....another crucifiable offense, I suppose...sorry Tree)
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Is this a new doctrine from the trendy Pope Francis?
That might be what the Pope would say
Or, as a wise man from Missouri might say
RacingRodent
Consul
I thought Assumpta was the girlfriend of Sharp? 
Yes more retro Brit TV goodness
Yes more retro Brit TV goodness
I might have to think... I do not like this at all...
Tree
Tree
"Punished in Brazil"
Lord W, I thought you were writing a tragedy and not a comedy.
Punishment in Brazil only to "chicken thief."
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