I try coach her but sometimes....Yikes!!!!!
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Kartomga Terror Pit
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
10. So I lie... right out of my Langley CIA briefing playbook. I feed the General names ... real names ... straight from a list my handlers insisted that I commit to memory precisely for use in the desperate predicament in which I presently find myself ... names, every one of them .., carefully selected ... of dead people!
It seems so incredibly easy. I hang there naked from my wrists, my gut aching from being punched so many times ... spitting out names along with a certain amount of drool, between pauses for breath.
Each name is dutifully entered by the Captain with a stubby pencil into a notebook. And with each new name I reveal, the General ... his considerable bulk perched precariously on that small chair ... nods knowingly and approvingly.
They are buying it, I think to myself. Langley would be proud.
Then the wheels suddenly come off. The Captain stops writing, and looks up, an expression of astonishment on his dark face.
The General's good cheer melts into a scowl.
"You're lying to us!" sneers the General, his eyes flashing and his lips curling back in a snarl.
"No, I'm not!" I blurt. "These are my contacts. Go arrest them. You'll see. In the meantime, please let me down!"
"Yes, you are lying. Tell us again. What was that last name ... the contact you just named!"
"You mean Tobias Abunjon?"
"Yes. I hate to tell you this, Ms. Moore, but that is the name of the good Captain standing beside me!"
"Oh Shit!"
"Captain, there is no doubt that our dear American friend here is a CIA spy! We needn't question her further. Her contacts, whoever they may be, have all gone to ground by now anyway. I am bored with her. So, Ms. Moore, I must inform you that espionage is a capital offense, of which you are guilty. By the authority invested in me by the Revolutionary Government of the Republic of Kartomga, I hereby therefore sentence you to die by public execution."
"Wait! That's not a proper trial! There's no judge here, no defense, no court of law. You can't do this!"
"I can, and I just did Ms. Moore ... Oh, and Captain Abunjon, since the little lying bitch took your good name in vain, please avail yourself of the opportunity to seek revenge by whipping the shit out of her! And when, you are finished, kindly toss her in a cell, offer her some bread and water, and leave her to her own thoughts for the night. She dies at dawn!"
With a satisfied grunt, the Grneral rises and stalks away from the "Terror Pit". Leaving me to face the Captain, who busies himself selecting a whip from several hanging on a rack on the wall.
Desperately I kick and squirm, swinging myself around to face away from him and his evil-looking whip.
A moment later he leans into delivering the first lash ... catching me on the hip and slicing across my quivering buttocks ...
He follows up with s half dozen quick strikes up and down my bare back ... leaving a row of red stripes ...
The next one wraps around to tear at my ribs just under my breasts ...
And then an underhanded lightning strike rips between my flailing legs ...
I howl, sputter, gasp and moan and dance the dance as he continues to use the wrap around to punish my breasts and belly ...
Again and again he vents his fury. I cry, begging him to stop. But the brutal whipping continues ...
Until he eventually whips me into unconsciousness ...
"Damn Langley! is the last thought to cross my mind as I black out.
It seems so incredibly easy. I hang there naked from my wrists, my gut aching from being punched so many times ... spitting out names along with a certain amount of drool, between pauses for breath.
Each name is dutifully entered by the Captain with a stubby pencil into a notebook. And with each new name I reveal, the General ... his considerable bulk perched precariously on that small chair ... nods knowingly and approvingly.
They are buying it, I think to myself. Langley would be proud.
Then the wheels suddenly come off. The Captain stops writing, and looks up, an expression of astonishment on his dark face.
The General's good cheer melts into a scowl.
"You're lying to us!" sneers the General, his eyes flashing and his lips curling back in a snarl.
"No, I'm not!" I blurt. "These are my contacts. Go arrest them. You'll see. In the meantime, please let me down!"
"Yes, you are lying. Tell us again. What was that last name ... the contact you just named!"
"You mean Tobias Abunjon?"
"Yes. I hate to tell you this, Ms. Moore, but that is the name of the good Captain standing beside me!"
"Oh Shit!"
"Captain, there is no doubt that our dear American friend here is a CIA spy! We needn't question her further. Her contacts, whoever they may be, have all gone to ground by now anyway. I am bored with her. So, Ms. Moore, I must inform you that espionage is a capital offense, of which you are guilty. By the authority invested in me by the Revolutionary Government of the Republic of Kartomga, I hereby therefore sentence you to die by public execution."
"Wait! That's not a proper trial! There's no judge here, no defense, no court of law. You can't do this!"
"I can, and I just did Ms. Moore ... Oh, and Captain Abunjon, since the little lying bitch took your good name in vain, please avail yourself of the opportunity to seek revenge by whipping the shit out of her! And when, you are finished, kindly toss her in a cell, offer her some bread and water, and leave her to her own thoughts for the night. She dies at dawn!"
With a satisfied grunt, the Grneral rises and stalks away from the "Terror Pit". Leaving me to face the Captain, who busies himself selecting a whip from several hanging on a rack on the wall.
Desperately I kick and squirm, swinging myself around to face away from him and his evil-looking whip.
A moment later he leans into delivering the first lash ... catching me on the hip and slicing across my quivering buttocks ...
He follows up with s half dozen quick strikes up and down my bare back ... leaving a row of red stripes ...
The next one wraps around to tear at my ribs just under my breasts ...
And then an underhanded lightning strike rips between my flailing legs ...
I howl, sputter, gasp and moan and dance the dance as he continues to use the wrap around to punish my breasts and belly ...
Again and again he vents his fury. I cry, begging him to stop. But the brutal whipping continues ...
Until he eventually whips me into unconsciousness ...
"Damn Langley! is the last thought to cross my mind as I black out.
AlexArts
Soul of Cinder
I've made right decision... No doubt about it...He follows up with s half dozen quick strikes up and down my bare back ... leaving a row of red stripes ...
The next one wraps around to tear at my ribs just under my breasts ...
Oh dear.
To think it was going so well
And what of Mr Abunjon?
Is he really a CIA agent (in which case he seems to be taking verisimilitude a bit far in Barb's whipping 
) There again, maybe his feet hurt.
(A bunion?)
OMG! What that for unusable picture insert. All Pictures with the same name. I cannot make a book with pictures so.
OMG! What that for unusable picture insert. All Pictures with the same name. I cannot make a book with pictures so.
Ok, i can with more sacrifice time. Please not more insert "image.jpeg"!!
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
Not with these, Shastar. Barbara Moore deserves better.En route... (took the responsibility - Hoora Hey - It's a good day to die)
They are coming to rescue!
Hold on miss Moore!
shastar
Tribune
The European rescue team was slightly delayed, anyway. The French refused to take orders from Belgians or Brittons. The Dutch-speaking Belgians refused to take orders in French. And the Brittons decided to organise a vote 'leave or remain in the team' after their request for a tea-break at 5 PM was denied.
But don't worry, Barb. We still hope to reach some agreement and be there before dawn. I hope...
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
They decided to negociate who would be in command.
The negotiations were progressing well. An agreement was within sight.
Oh, sure, Barb, blame some bureaucrat toiling away at Langley for your problems. Well, perhaps, that is part of the problem...
Since no one wants to pass a real budget our equipment is a bit out of date as are the maps we have. It would help to know what Kartomga was called before it changed its name! Where the hell are you???
Since no one wants to pass a real budget our equipment is a bit out of date as are the maps we have. It would help to know what Kartomga was called before it changed its name! Where the hell are you???
Don't tell them,Barb.Oh, sure, Barb, blame some bureaucrat toiling away at Langley for your problems. Well, perhaps, that is part of the problem...
Since no one wants to pass a real budget our equipment is a bit out of date as are the maps we have. It would help to know what Kartomga was called before it changed its name! Where the hell are you???
View attachment 411519
Hondoboot2
QUAESTOR PULCHRITUDINIS
Well, the plan to feed them names of dead people went over like a lead ballon
Now a public excecution awaits you
Like I said before, those knuckleheads at Langley really failed you Barb!
Where is the extraction plan?
I think it is time for plan B Barb.
Rambo is on the way, and he is pissed.
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and we will come together with our friend the Red BaronThey are coming to rescue!
Hold on miss Moore!
not necessary sweet little redhead we have so our own methodes
If you harm Barb,then you will feel my cold steel blade.
Attachments
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
If the Belgians look closer, maybe they find one of these still in working order? You can't evacuate Barb with just a biplane stringbag?
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
You can't evacuate Barb with just a biplane stringbag?
You can!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Somehow, I think this proposal has the biggest chance to succeed : that resolute, undaunted warrior look! The good old hands-on spirit of the good old East Germany : "Wir schaffen das!"
but I have seen you in a much better style e.g. as queen of the damned
or as a daughter of a slave
also we will wait with some happiness for your fine steel