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No Trespassing!

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Thanks once more for the likes and comments.

Honestly, I was not sure whether this this story would have gone smoothly. I initially wrote the story twice. Once from the male first person narrator's viewpoint, and once from the third person (Ellen's) viewpoint. Finally, I decided to merge both stories, linking both narrators to each other.

Hmmm, what was that band called again, Gorgoroth?
You are right, the outcome of the story was inspired by the Gorgoroth scene, but with a dark twist here.

The other element, the footbridge leading to a parking space, behind a railway station, next to an abandoned factory, is inspired by a really existing place, with real existing youngsters dwelling around on the stairs of the bridge (but harmless of course). I had seen them a few times during the summer of 2014. The desolate setting of the parking space did the rest as a source of inspiration.
 
Yes, it came across to me as a real place, or perhaps an amalgam of real places,
you conveyed the 'feel' of it as well as the appearance
 
"It is a great day for Montavelin! Our beloved saints are back!"

“Get those cobbles from under my bottom!”

Probably, the building smelled like 'lone women inside'.

She never had heard that sound. It did 'hump-hump-hump-hump-hump'. It sounded like a muffled beat on an oil drum.

"If you get laid with an enemy spy, you never are on the winning side!"

"All day hard working, and overnight being hard worked on by an overpressured steam engine!? I said forget it! Let them keep their money!”

"Cougneu d'bèrouettes! Fât' grisoux! “
“You pick up the local language very quickly! But what does it mean?”
“No idea, but it sounds very cursing!”

"My granddad always said the most dangerous places for a man are the backside of a horse and the front side of a naked woman!”

All her modesty was hanging to a plastic aureola now.

"I decide who is innocent here!"

"Get off my roof, idiots!"

“Euh! What is he planning to do?” Patty asked with a worried voice.
“He is going to whip us, Patty dear!”


****
It started a few days ago with this pic, posted by Phlebas on page 154 of the 'Odds and ends' thread.



I posted some comments on it, and Shastar challenged me to put it in a story.

Callenge accepted.

COMING SOON :
NO TRESPASSING : COMMUNITY SERVICE!
 
"It is a great day for Montavelin! Our beloved saints are back!"

“Get those cobbles from under my bottom!”

Probably, the building smelled like 'lone women inside'.

She never had heard that sound. It did 'hump-hump-hump-hump-hump'. It sounded like a muffled beat on an oil drum.

"If you get laid with an enemy spy, you never are on the winning side!"

"All day hard working, and overnight being hard worked on by an overpressured steam engine!? I said forget it! Let them keep their money!”

"Cougneu d'bèrouettes! Fât' grisoux! “
“You pick up the local language very quickly! But what does it mean?”
“No idea, but it sounds very cursing!”

"My granddad always said the most dangerous places for a man are the backside of a horse and the front side of a naked woman!”

All her modesty was hanging to a plastic aureola now.

"I decide who is innocent here!"

"Get off my roof, idiots!"

“Euh! What is he planning to do?” Patty asked with a worried voice.
“He is going to whip us, Patty dear!”


****
It started a few days ago with this pic, posted by Phlebas on page 154 of the 'Odds and ends' thread.



I posted some comments on it, and Shastar challenged me to put it in a story.

Callenge accepted.

COMING SOON :
NO TRESPASSING : COMMUNITY SERVICE!

Sex Outdoors, You Just Can`t Beat It
Over The Car Bonnet First, Then Down
Among`st The Thistles, Shagging Like
Wild Animals, Well Rabbits Will Do
For Starters.

Took the kids into school today, they have a
new head teacher, my legs turned to jelly,
i just wanted him to take me into his study
and cane my bum hard, Dream On Dorothy.,
 
NO TRESPASSING – COMMUNITY SERVICE (1)

“Here it is!”
Patty left the road and drove her little blue car on a field track. After two hundred meter, the track turned right, running along a continuous row of trees and bushes. But Patty drove straight on and parked her car on what was apparently a concrete bridge.
“Let’s get out, Carry! The railroad is right under our feet!”
“Patty, are you sure you can leave the car here? This bridge could lead to a property?”
“I do not think many people will pass along. I see no trace of activity around here. And it is Saturday afternoon. By the way, we stay around, so I can always move the car if necessary!”

Patty, a 37 year old redhair, was the photographer. She was specialized in outdoor bondage and women in peril photography. Carry, 31, dark hair, was her willing model, specialized in outdoor bondage and women in peril modelling. Willing, because Patty needed little persuasion to have Carry posing in all possible positions, situations, bondage fantasies, either being dressed, or partly dressed, or nude. They were a perfect team.

That Saturday in May, Patty had planned a photo-shoot of a ‘woman-in-distress’ fantasy, on an old railroad track. Carry would have to pose, being tied across the rails, anxiously awaiting the train coming up to crush her under its wheels. Afterwards, Patty would finish the best pics by adding the villain who had tied Carry, or the approaching train, or other features.
The location Patty had chosen, was an entrenched line. At the crest of the slopes, on both sides, grew bushes of beech, filbert and alder over the whole length. Hence, they could work in quiet and privacy. Access was easy by a concrete stairway descending into the trench next to the bridge, Patty had parked her car on.
“So, let’s go! The position of the sun is ideal now. We have at least an hour to take profit of her light!” Patty ordered.

They descended the stairs, carrying Patty’s camera material, a bag with ropes, gags and other appropriate attributes, and a folding chair.
Down in the trench lay a single track line. There were neither railway signals nor electrical overhead lines or other wiring. Clearly, this had never been a main line, rather a local one.
“Are you sure this line is abandoned?” Carry asked a little bit unsure. “Bob once took me for a railway photo-shoot, assuring that there would only pass one local train every hour. I had hardly undressed, when some kind of an international train drove along, going to Paris.”
“Carry! Everybody knows Bob is an amateur!”
“The worst was, just as that train drove by, someone inside flushed a toilet. An old fashioned one that drained on the tracks. Do you know what happens when a train toilet is flushed when the train is driving at full speed?”
“No!”
“The content instantly atomizes in a cloud of millions of droplets, sweeping along the train!”
“Oh shit!”
“You can say that! And the next minute, I had to jump out of the way of a freight train coming from the opposite direction! So, you are very sure…”?
“Definitely! This line was used for the coal mines around here, to transport coal and coalminers. The mines have closed fifty years ago, so the line became useless.”

Down the stairs, Carry set up the folding chair.
“The railway looks in a good state for being useless since decades!” Carry said.
“Railroad builders thought they built for eternity! They never have considered the possibility that railroad lines would once be closed. In the spirit of progress of those days, such a thought was unthinkable!”
“If you say so, Patty!”
“I say so, Carry, and now, time for action! The sun does not stand still. Sit down on that chair, Il will first patch up your make up, and then, you get dressed!”
‘Getting dressed’ meant that Carry pulled out her top, her short blue jeans skirt and her undies. She put them on the chair and awaited Patty’s instructions. Patty was testing her camera meanwhile.
“Lay down there, yes, right there, your head to the left, yes!”
“I prefer laying on that sleeper!”
“All right then! It can do too” Patty said, while she continued the set-up of her camera.
“Patty! Are you planning to post some teasers on the internet?”
“As usual, why?”
“People named ‘Top-Cat’ or ‘Phlebas’ will like it!”
“Carry! If you want to spoil my mood and my day, then all you have to do is to mention these Cruxforum vultures, right!?”
“They have good taste! They always post the best pics!”
“Shut up, Carry. You know I hate the stupid comments and captions their members post on my artwork! It deserves better than that! Now first let me tie you to the rails.”
Patty took a few ropes and fixed Carry’s wrists and ankles to the rails.
“Hey! Aaw! Not so tight!”
“It must look realistic, Carry dear!”
“But suppose a real train will be coming! From there, we see it from far, but behind that bridge there is that bend!”
“Carry, dear, trust me, I know what I am doing! The last train that once passed over these rails has long gone to the scrapyard, even before you and me were born! Now will you focus on your role please?”
“Patty! There is a cobble under my thigh!”
“Too late! And a little real pain can add to the realism of your facial expression!”
“Patty! I was joking about Top-Cat and Phlebas! And your artwork is marvelous!”
“I said : too late! And now, Carry, action!”

Carry sighed. The ropes were really tight. Patty’s damned sense for realism. And her own punishment for mentioning ‘Top-Cat’ and ‘Phlebas’ in Patty’s presence. Meanwhile, Patty started the first shoots. When she had finished, Carry drew attention again on her uncomfortable position. Patty walked up to her.
“And now, we do this pose with a gag and these sexy high heel shoes! And try to act a little bit more slutty, will you!? That would put more sensibility in the pics!”
“Hey, in this situation, I am supposed to be the innocent victim!”
“Carry, dear, there are thousands of pics of so called innocent females, tied by some villain to railway tracks. I want you to be the wicked femme fatale who deserves her punishment, but who behaves as a temptress until the wheels of the engine will crush her! Is that clear?”
“But.. I want to be innocent!”
“Shut up, Carry! I am the director here and I decide who is innocent!”
Then, Patty put a ball gag in Carry’s mouth.

The shooting went on for a while. As usual, Patty behaved as the ruthless director, Carry having to undergo it all. It was their working relationship, in which both actually felt best. Patty knew she could push Carry far a lot, since Carry secretly enjoyed being stripped, tied up and humiliated by Patty. Patty, who was seemingly never satisfied of her own work, always wanted to do better, and no one but Carry could sense that drive and give herself to perform even better. It was that bond that made them a perfect team.
Carry was now doing a pose while laying spread-eagled between, and along the tracks, to which her wrists and ankles were tied. Firmly tied, as usual. For Patty, it had to be realistic. Patty checked her last takes.
“Carry! You have to put more feeling into it! You are the damsel in distress. It is World War One! You are the countess who has betrayed her husband with an enemy spy, while the brave colonel husband has a hard time in the trenches, serving his country. An angry mob has drawn you and your lover-spy out of your hide. He has been lynched, while you have been tied to the track like that! The mob is judging what they will do with you next! I want to see a countess, being rocked back and forth between pride and shame, and between anger and fear, and between resistance and resignation! Not the look of a sunbathing beauty at the Côte d’Azur!”
“Now Patty, listen! My back is wrecked, my limbs are almost numb from these ties…”
“You know, Carry, it has to look realistic!”
“Maybe, there is one thing that could help?”
“What, then?”
“A little bit of…exciting exposure from your side!”
“Carry, me? Here?”
“You said no one can see us here, Patty! And you know, when I get tired, it helps!”
“All right then, just for the last ten minutes, to help you through.”

Patty went to the folding chair and put her jeans dress and her undies on it, and then returned to a lustfully looking Carry.”
“All, right, you got what you wanted, Carry, now focus on the last job, please!? Spread your legs, close your eyes and think of…”
“France or Germany!? Difficult choice in the countess’ situation?”
“Carry! You are a German countess! Your lover was a French spy!”
“I thought, you said I was a French countess and the spy was German!”
“Would you really enjoy having sex with a German spy?”
“I want to be French! I want to be on the winning side! And I want no sex with a spy who has been eating garlic!”
“Carry! If you get laid with an enemy spy, you never are on the winning side! Now concentrate please!?”
“All right!”
Patty took some more photos, but when she reviewed them, she still looked unsatisfied.
“Countess, it still does not work! We need a more drastic measure!”
Patty stepped to Carry, lifted her back..
“Hey, what are you doing..?”
…and put two cobles from the ballast bed under Carry’s lower back.
“Aaawtch that hurts!”
“Very well, Carry, that’s it! Look at me! Fantastic! You really found the perfect facial expression! Keep going!”
“Get those cobbles from under my bottom!”
“All right! Time to leave now! You did a good job, Carry!”
“At last!” Carry said, while Patty started untying her.
“Or wait a minute, Carry, now that you are here, helpless, maybe we could make five minutes of fun!” Patty started fondling between Carry’s legs.
“Patty! No!”
“Come on! A quicky, Carry dear!”
“Patty!?”Carry said, this time insistently.
“What!?”
“Stop it and untie me! There are people on that bridge!”

(to be continued)
 
Vultures?
We are aficionados, collectors, men of taste and refinement.

Phwoar! Get a load of the tracks on that!
 
NO TRESPASSING – COMMUNITY SERVICE (2)

Two men were standing on the bridge. One of them shouted to them.
“Viens en haut! Immédiatement!”
“What does he say?” Carry asked.
“We have to go upstairs immediately!”
“We better dress first!”
“Right!”
“Non! Non! Héla! J’ai dit immédiatement!”
“I think he says ‘right now’, Carry!”
“What do we do?”
“We better obey, Carry, he looks like a policeman! ”
Patty and Carry grabbed their things and ran up the stairs.
“Carry? How long are they up there?”
“No idea! We were too occupied by the work, it seems!”

Upstairs, there was a policeman, or rather, as his shoulder patch indicated, a Garde Champêtre, a rural guard, but nevertheless an officer with police authority. He carried a two barrel shotgun behind his shoulder. He was accompanied by a man of fifty something years old. Behind Patty’s car stood a tractor with a lorry.
“This is Monsieur Edouard, a farmer! He owns land here around and across the railroad. You have illegally trespassed his premises, you have parked your car in a way you are blocking an access to a property, you have trespassed a railroad, which is forbidden too. You have been walking nude and committed obscenity in a public place. You have inflicted damages to Monsieur Edouard by hindering his work. Euh.. c’est tout! That’s all, I guess.”
“I am sorry!” Patty could say no more.

A man from about thirty came from behind the tractor. He looked like a very healthy peasant, with his round, blushing beardless face. From under his cap, his glancing eyes clearly betrayed his lust and desire by the sight of two naked women.
“C’est mon fils! It’s my son!” the farmer said.
“Could you first move your car from the bridge please, so that Monsieur Edouard gets access to his property?” The Garde Champêtre asjed.
“Sure!” Patty said, desperately looking for her car keys in her dress, to find out that they were in the bag with ropes. Still naked, she drove her car out of the way. Then, she returned to the bridge.
“I also have to tell you”, the Garde Champêtre said , “that walking on a railroad track is very dangerous. Especially when you tie people to the rails”
“But this track is abandoned!?” Patty said. “It is no more part of the national railway network! I have checked it out! There is no traffic! The rails are covered with rust!”
“Maybe!?” the Garde Champêtre said, meanwhile looking at his watch, with some irony in his eyes.

Patty’s noticed something strange, she had not paid attention too before, as she had been too occupied by their unpleasant situation. Since she had moved her car, there had been a noise in the distance, a noise she never had heard before. A rhythmic, hollow sounding hump-hump-hump-hump-hump. It sounded like a muffled beating on an oil drum. Carry neither had ever heard that sound before. They both had thought the noise came from some agricultural machine, but now it came disturbingly closer and it got accompanied by a rolling roar.
“Patty! Look!”
The noises grew immensely loud when suddenly, in the railroad trench, a black monster came from around the bend, rolling over the rails and billowing a huge cloud of thick, fatty black smoke. It then uttered a huge shriek when the whistle blew. Seconds later, it passed under the bridge, engulfing Patty and Carry in the black cloud (while the men had stepped away in time). As the steam engine and his two carriages drove away, Carry looked at Patty and noticed the patches of black soot all over her face and body, realizing that she must have looked likely the same.
“Abandoned since fifty years, huh? I told you, it looked in a too good condition!” she said reproachfully to the still astonished Patty.
“A beautiful dinosaur, wasn’t it?” the Garde Champêtre said. “It is a museum line now! The inauguration ride of the season! Always be careful! But shall we discuss your case now! I will make you an offer!”
“Oh yes!” Patty said, with trembling legs, realizing now that the man’s intervention to get them urgently from the track had saved the life of at least one of them.
“I have just summed up the offenses you have committed. The most severe one, is public nudity. That could cost you real time in prison. I will consider that you committed it outdoors, but that you have avoided to be in real public, and that you were on private property, either on Monsieur Edouard’s or on the railroad. Theoretically Monsieur Edouard could file a complaint for it, but neither he nor his son have the intention to do so, do you understand?”
“Yes!” For sure they would not complain. The farmer and his son could not keep their eyes from their –still naked – bodies.
“I only leave the trespassing of Monsieur Edouard’s property, the blocking of access to his property as penal case and hindering his work, since time is money for him too, as a civil case. If you admit guilt to these facts, I drop the others. Do you agree?”
“Yes, yes!” Patty and Carry said, still trembling.
“So you accept my proposal?”
“Yes!” Patty said.
“So do I” Carry added.
“Good! Can you hand over your camera, please?”
“Why?” Patty asked.
“It is an expensive one, isn’t it?”
“Sure it is!” Patty said.
“I will confiscate it, for the duration of your case, as a kind of bail. When everything will be settled, you get it back. You will get an official statement of the confiscation!”
“But…”
“I am a policeman! Not a thief. I have the authority to do so!”
“All right then!” Patty said and handed over her camera.
“Now, you step into your car and you follow mine. I will bring you to my office in the village.

The farmer started the engine of his tractor and crossed the bridge together with his son. The car of the Garde Champêtre had been parked behind it. He started his car, turned, and ordered Patty to follow him. Patty drove her little blue car behind his.
“Patty, why don’t we just drive away into the other direction of the road. This is our only chance!”
“Are you crazy? He has my camera, and it is an expensive one!”

So, Patty and Carry obediently followed the car of the Garde Champêtre to the village. When they arrived in the village, they noticed there were many people on the street. Many were young men, around 20-25 years old. Something was happening. Over the street hang a banner : ‘Kermesse à Montavelin. Du 27 au 29 Mai’.
“It’s the local festival here!” Patty said.
A music band marched along, judging from the flag, from a farmer’s organization. Curiously, the arrival of Patty and Carry drew their attention somehow.
The Garde Champêtre parked his car in front of the police office. Patty followed him.
“He wants us to get out!” Patty said.
“Shouldn’t we better get dressed first?”, Carry asked.

(to be continued)
 
NO TRESPASSING – COMMUNITY SERVICE (3)

“I hope, it is important, Garde Champêtre, I was just about to leave for the kermesse!”
“I will explain what happened, judge!”
The Garde Champêtre explained Patty and Carry’s case, and it became immediately very clear to the judge that it was an important case. Obstructing a farmer’s work! Illegally trespassing his property! That was a very serious case! If justice would be lenient here, there would be an enormous threat to the prosperity of the farmer’s community in Montavelin!
“C’est très grave ce que vous avez fait! Très, très grave! You committed very serious felonies!” the judge addressed them sternly.
“Hey! I want a lawyer!” Patty cried out.
“Mademoiselle! I have not all the evening for procedures! It’s kermesse! If you want to make me really pissed off, then you certainly must raise more minute procedural objections! We will finish this right here and right now! Understand?”
“But your honour…!”
“Silence dans le tribunal!” the Garde Champêtre cried out.
“Bien!” the judge said, “Since all parties have taken part in the debates, Mesdemoiselles, I will pronounce judgment immediately! I condemn you to twenty four hours of community service during the kermesse, meaning, from tomorrow 8 am till Monday 8am, when you will be free to leave. Knowing the kermesse traditions here in Montavelin, I think at that time there will nobody left to stand on his feet anymore, to stop you from leaving anyway.”
“Community service, what the hell..”
“That was for the penal offenses, Medemoiselles. Now for the civil part, concerning the damages claimed by Monsieur Edouard et son fils for obstructing their work, I put you both at their disposal from 8 pm this evening till 8 am tomorrow! The Garde Champêtre will bring you there! The court has adjourned, the session is closed, let the kermesse begin! Bring in the peket!”
“But judge! What…? All night work…!?”
“What’s your problem?” the judge asked. “Do not worry! Monsieur Edouard and his son usually take a bath when it is kermesse!”

The next morning, 8:05 a.m., Patty and Carry stood on the courtyard of Monsieur Edouard’s farm, drowsy, and somewhat…bent forward.
“Kicking us out like that! “Carry said “after all night work!? Without breakfast!? Cougneu d'bèrouettes! Fât' grisoux! “ she said, turning to the farm, raising her fist!
“You pick up the local language very quickly! What does it mean?”
“No idea, but it sounds very cursing!”
“You cannot deny that they are healthy! Oh dear!”
“That son sounded like that steam engine yesterday, when he was on form!”
“I know, I have been overrun by that train more than enough! Probably because it is a familiar sound to him. And looking around by the way, this is not a small holder’s farm. This is a large, modern enterprise. I think they have lots of money!”
“What are you suggesting, Patty?”
“Nothing, forget it!”
“Me marry the son, you the father?”
“Carry! All day hard working, and overnight being hard worked on by an overpressured steam engine!? No time to sleep, and time for a bath only on the day of kermesse? I said forget it! Let them keep their money!”
“All right! Now the rest of our punishment. Community service! Cleaning up the places after the kermesse, I guess. There is the Garde Champêtre to pick us up.”

The word ‘kermesse’ is derived from a Dutch word ‘kermis’, meaning ‘kerkmis’ (church mass). It is a festival that takes place the first Sunday after the feast (or on the feast if it’s on a Sunday) of the patron saint of the local church. Much of the religious aspect has gone, however. Traditionally, a traveling funfair settles during the kermesse days, which already start on Saturday evening. The festival has rather become an opportunity to unleash oneself. Booze flows in rivers, and nine months later, the place witnesses a baby boom. Kermesse usually ends up in the early hours of Tuesday or Wednesday, when the money has run out and the people are sleeping it, their sadness that it is over only being overshadowed by their hangover. ‘A kermesse is worth a whipping’ is a well-known saying in northern Gaul.
In Montavelin, Sunday afternoon had just begun. People had attended the mass (in Montavelin they still all did) and they were now warming up for a few days of unlimited fun.

Meanwhile, the Garde Champêtre had informed Patty and Carry what was expected from them. They were requested Sunday afternoon for a folkloric event, a religious procession in Montavelin. The Garde Champêtre told them it was a proposal. The alternative was working all night, to clean up the trash, the rubble, the dirt and other vomit in the streets after another wild feast of plenty of peket, beer and pommes frites mayonnaise and beignets, the usual diet during kermesse.
Quickly, they agreed to do their community service during the procession.
“We could pick up some interesting cultural heritage!” Patty had asserted.

Sunday afternoon : religious procession.
“Some religious procession!”
“Shut up, Carry!”
“No ‘shut up Carry’! I still hear you say! ‘Let’s go for the procession, then we could pick up some local cultural heritage here!’ We are picking up local culture! Some culture!”
“Could I know!? And had you preferred cleaning dirt and vomit all night?”
“Are we better off now!?”
“Shut up and walk!”
“As if I’m having the choice!”
“Medemoiselles! Could you behave a little bit more pious and accepting please! Remember! You are the martyrs here!” the Garde Champêtre addressed them!

The martyrs! The church of Montavelin was dedicated to Saints Corduliana and Cordulina, two Roman noble women from Gaul, who had converted to Christianism, and who had been the victim of the persecutions by Diocletian. Patty and Carry had involuntarily provided the opportunity the community of Montavelin had been dreaming off for years : having a ‘real’ Corduliana and Cordulina in their kermesse procession. Hence Patty and Carry were dragged through the streets of Montavelin, their wrists chained to the swingletree of farmer Edouard’s Brabant horse, guided by the farmer himself. His son was dressed as the centurion in command. Patty and Carry were ‘guarded’ by a few young farmers, also dressed as legionnaires. They all enjoyed their role, since Patty and Carry wore, but some walking sandals at their feet and a plastic aureola over their head, nothing but a loincloth. The director of the procession had said it had to be ‘historically accurate’, and no one, even not the local curé had objected him.

“Carry! Close in! Having to hold up that swingletree so high is fatiguing! That chain becomes heavy!”
“I hate it to walk behind that horse. My granddad always said the most dangerous places for a man are the backside of a horse and the front side of a naked woman!”
“Carry, you are not a man!”
“The horse does not know!”
"Carry!"
"And yesterday I was myself in front of an naked woman, and it got me almost overrun by a train!”
‘Stop reminding me, all the time, will you, and now unbend that chain, will you too!?
“In poiye de ku sin plu four kun cab' dé caya” the Garde Champêtre said.
“What’s he saying?” Carry asked.
“Here, they say, the hair of a woman’s pussy is stronger than a mineshaft cable” the Garde Champêtre made clear. “It means the same as you said : keep your head on the job, particularly if it is a dangerous one. Do not get distracted! And what is more distracting than thinking of…”
‘I see” Carry replied.
“Do not worry! Monsieur Edouard may appear a little bit strange, but he has his head on the job now. He fully masters the horse, and he is fully aware of the responsibility he has at this moment. He can perfectly guide his horse and anticipate on any problem that would show up! I am fully confident of that.”
“His farm seems to do well. Why is his son still a bachelor, then?”
“The farmers here are good skilled and professionals, and they work very hard. They make good money. Unfortunately, women who want to do the work on the farm are difficult to find, despite the high profits the farms make.”
“I see, and on an occasion like this, they go wild, to blow off steam!” Carry asked.
“Indeed. Actually, they have to blame themselves too. They say to have no time for courting, in fact they make no time for it, they cannot leave their farm work behind for it. Furthermore they are very picky, they would require the same high standards for their future wife as for their personnel, and they are afraid that the one they would get engaged with would turn out to be either lazy, or just be out for their money. That makes them reluctant to venture the front part of a woman!”
The procession turned into an uphill street. The horse suddenly jolted forward to pick up some speed. Patty and Carry, Corduliana and Cordulina, could nothing do than follow… and run!

Anyway, Patty and Carry’s presence in the procession was a success, judging from the crowd’s reaction, cheering and whistling when Patty and Carry passed along. Particularly, because the news had spread where they had forcedly spent the previous night. There was much drinking in the street. People with bottles and glasses with a water-like drink that was actually no water at all, but something named ‘peket’, the local name for genever, a strong juniper brandy.
The procession took about three quarters already, going to the outskirts of Montavelin and then returning by a track through the fields, where the procession took a halt at the Chapelle Notre Dame de Montavelin for a pious prayer. Then, they continued to the other end of the village. Finally, the church was in sight again.
“It starts feeling real!” Patty said. The sun stood high. They were sweating, covered with dust already, and tired of keeping up with the pace of the horse. Mentally, they were exhausted from the enthusiastic crowd that had even followed them along the field track, and that had played its role of angry onlookers more and more realistically.
“I cannot anymore neither.” Carry replied. “What actually happened to the real Corduliana and Cordulina?”
“I am afraid, Corduliana, the answer is there, in front of the maison communale.”
“I thought I was Cordulina and you were..."
"I said : look!"
"… What?…Crosses!?”

(to be continued)
 
I condemn you to twenty four hours of community service during the kermesse, meaning, from tomorrow 8 am till Monday 8am, when you will be free to leave. Knowing the kermesse traditions here in Montavelin, I think at that time there will nobody left to stand on his feet anymore, to stop you from leaving anyway.”

Oh dear!!

Assuming they'll be tied to the crosses (a rash assumption I know, anything happens in CF stories), and after an overnight of agony, if the judge's remarks are correct, "at that time there will be nobody left to stand on his feet anymore" to get them down from the crosses.
 
NO TRESPASSING – COMMUNITY SERVICE (4)

The procession had arrived on the square in front of the Maison Communale. Patty and Carry were awaited by the leading groups of the procession, the farmer’s music band, and the honorary guard of the local shooters guild, dressed in uniforms of Napoleon’s Imperial Guard. Patty and Carry were released from the horse gear and they were drawn upon a scaffold, where two crosses had been erected. Above one cross stood ‘Corduliana Christiana’ and above the other one ‘Cordulina Christiana’. Patty and Carry realized that the show was not over yet, when they were put in front of the crosses, surrounded by agitated crowd.
“Wait! Give them something to drink first!” the Garde Champêtre ordered!
People brought something to drink. It was beer. Heavenly beer, especially since they had become terribly thirsty after their walk through the village and in the fields, under the burning sun.
“C’est du Saison!”
“Saison?”
“Saison de Montavelin, beer from our local brewery!”
“Wow! Delicuous!”
“If you need more, just ask!”
“What is going to happen?”
“You are the martyrs, remember! Force!”

A man in a tail-coat, a high hat and a tricolored sash around his waist, ascended the scaffold. It was the bourgmestre, the mayor. He looked very happy, smiling from ear to ear, especially when he watched Patty and Carry. His round face looked red. He took off his hat and greeted the cheering crowd.
“Aujourd’hui, c’est un grand jour de fête pour Montavelin! Aujourd’hui, nous fêtons le retour de nos saintes! Sainte Cordulienne et Sainte Corduline sont parmi nous!”
It is a great day for Montavelin? Our beloved saints are back!? Was he serious? He started a speech, according to what Patty and Carry could make of it, of complete nonsense, making Carry whisper to Patty:
“Peket or Saison?”
“Both, I am afraid!”
But the bourgmestre did not bother talking even more nonsense, and continued on his momentum, supported by his enthusiastic audience, full of admiration and peket.
“Montavelin! Ce grand village! Ce beau village! Ce village fantastique, superbe! Vous êtes tous fantastique!”
He praised Montavelin into the heavens! And he found ear among the crowd. Clearly they found him fantastique too!
“Maintenant, let’s continue the ceremony”, the bourgemestre shouted. “Monsieur le juge, please!?”

The judge ascended the scaffold. The same judge who had condemned Patty and Carry to community service the evening before. For the occasion, he was dressed as some Roman praetor, and he wore a toga. Patty and Carry remarked that the way he ascended the stairs to the scaffold, betrayed some liquid authority too. Peket or Saison? Probably both.
The judge carried a paper scroll, that he unrolled, in a somewhat solemn manner. As he started reading, however, he got problems with his toga, which was clearly not perfectly adjusted and risked to fall off. Under the laughter of the people, he fixed it, and then restarted reading a mangled Latin text. A verdict.
“Sancta Corduliana….Sancta Cordulina…Chirstiana… condamnata ad cruxim….”
The crowd loudly cheered when hearing the verdict.
The son of farmer Edouard appeared on the scaffold, still in his centurion uniform. Carry could hardly suppress her laughter seeing him with his hairy legs under a centurion ‘miniskirt’.
“A mort les Chrétiennes!” he shouted. The crowd cheered enthusiastically. It suddenly got really heated up. It even became scaring to Carry, since the people around her, mostly young farmers, got agitated too. Then, the men disguised as Roman soldiers grabbed her. She had to kick out her shoes. But they did not bring her to one of the crosses, but to a stake next to it. The legionnaires attached her wrists to a rope above her head. Then, they put Patty next to her the same way. Some muscled farmer approached, holding a whip in his hand.
“Euh! What is he planning to do?” Patty asked with a worried voice.
“He is going to whip us, Patty dear!”
“Whip us? Why!?”
“To keep it realistic and historically accurate, Patty dear! The Romans whipped their condemned before crucifying them!”

The farmer with the whip stood behind Patty and Carry. The mood of the crowd heated up. Clearly, they expected something.
Suddenly Carry heard a shriek from her left side. Patty’s loincloth had been torn off. She was now all naked. Carry saw a ‘legionnaire’ coming up to her and do the same. The act overwhelmed her as she realized that she was standing full naked in front of the excited people. All her modesty was hanging to the plastic aureola behind her head now.
“Carry! This cannot be true!”
“Patty dear! Like this, it will look more realistic!”
“What do you mean?”
“In the Roman era, people were always crucified naked!”
“Mom! Help!” Patty whispered.

The first stroke came on Patty’s back. Her body shivered, she jolted her head backward and uttered a shriek. Then it was Carry’s turn. The strokes where not administered in the most violent way, but enough to make the whip crack on their bodies and to provoke a brief, intense snap of pain, enough to make them shriek and gasp for breath every time (cheering crowd!). Patty and Carry each received ten lashes, on their back, their bottom, their thighs and their waist.

After the whipping, they were released from the stake and brought to the crosses. Carry had to step upon a wooden box in front of the leftmost cross. Her wrists were attached with straps to the horizontal beam. Her feet were strapped to the vertical beam. Then they did the same with Patty. Carry was now overlooking an excited crowd. The only element of calm was the Garde Champêtre. He ordered to give them more Saison to drink. Patty and Carry did not refuse it. They each drank another bottle. Beer spilled over their chin and dripped on their naked bodies.
“Oh God, I am in heaven!” Carry said.
“You seem to like it!?” Patty asked wondering.
“That beer? Yes! Heavenly!”
“No, I mean, what we are stuck in!?”
“You told me more than once to imagine such scenes during our shoots, remember? You said it gave better pics. Now here we are in the reality!”
“But Carry, this feels so …humiliating! Don’t you..?”
“Sure! But you have taught me to perform better under humiliation! ‘The perfect facial expression’ remember!?”
“Yes but, how can you…”
“With a little bit of exciting exposure from your side next to me, I can endure much more. You know that!”
“Carry! You are awful!”
“You better concentrate on your facial expression, Patty, a lot of them are taking pictures!”
“Oh no!? Are they going to post them on the internet?”
“Could be! Top-Cat and Phlebas will have a great time the following days!”
“Oh, damn, what else are they going to do with us?”

The answer came immediately. The director and a few legionnaires had approached them.
“What is going to happen?” Patty asked.
“Time for the ‘moment supreme’!”

(to be continued)
 
NO TRESPASSING – COMMUNITY SERVICE (5)

‘Le moment supreme!’
“Grab the straps with your fists!” the festival director ordered Patty and Carry.
“But..why?”
“Do it Patty!” Carry said.
Carry had got the message. One of the men grabbed her legs and took the wooden box from under her feet. Carry hung with her full weight to the straps.
“Carryyyy!” Patty shouted when it was her turn. Both hung writhing to their cross, vainly trampling their feet, seeking support. The only relief they got by pulling by their fists to the straps, soon stressed their arms and their fists. They had to do serious effort to keep themselves pulled up, otherwise, they immediately felt a pressure on their breathing. They soon sweated profusely.
The crowd enjoyed it. The bells of the church rang joyful, the band enthusiastically played ‘Sambre et Meuse’, the men of the shooter’s guild fired three salute shots with their Napoleontic muzzleloader guns, each time with a thundering noise and spreading white clouds of gunpowder over the place. The people moved in circles around the scaffold, in order to watch the scene from all sides. Then the scene evolved into a dancing feast in front of the scaffold.
“Carryi I cannot take this no longer!”
“It.. just.. has to be a little realistic, Patty!”
“Damn you, Carry! What else are they going to do with us?”

***

“What a day!”
“You can say that, Carry! Damn! My arms are wrecked!”

Sunday evening. Patty and Carry were in the police office, after their ‘performance’ of Saint Corduliana and Saint Cordulina, patron saints of the local church of Montavelin. Outside, the kermesse was still going on. The sound of the attractions of the funfair was very close, as was the noise of the partygoers on the streets. The Garde Champêtre was doing some paperwork, while Patty and Carry had been locked up in a cell. As a matter of security, rather than for punishment.
Patty and Carry had been left hanging for about thirty minutes. Then they had been released. The people of Montavelin would not have done them real harm, even not under influence of peket and Saison, as they feared they would have invoked the wrath of their patrons, Saint Corduliana and Saint Cordulina.
When Patty and carry had finally been released, they got a blanket to cover their body. The Garde Champêtre brought them back to his office. Underway, they were awaited by an immense applause. Clearly, the people of Montavelin had appreciated their reenacting. They got a shower and got dressed. Although they had done enough community service for the day, they were supposed to stay until the end of their sentence, 8 a.m. Monday morning.
“Have you heard, about the legend of Corduliana and Cordulina?”
“I have been told that they were killed during a persecution for being Christians.”
“But do you know the clue, Patty?”
“No, tell me?”
“Corduliana and Cordulina were two wealthy widows, who had a domain. Their farm did well, and although they lived pious and chaste and they gave a lot to the poor, the other landlords were jealous. One of them threatened Corduliana and Cordulina he would denounce them as Christians to the authorities, if they would not share the bed with him and his bachelor son. Of course our chaste, pious ladies refused. They were dragged from property to property, flogged at each property and finally crucified on the hill where now Montavelin is.”
“Wait a minute, Carry! If I heard it good, they have cheated here, right!?”
“Indeed, they did! Nevertheless, their fear for divine wrath is real! God punished the area with a yearly returning rainstorm, that swept all the crops from the fields just before the harvesting season would begin! And the landlord and his son saw the access to their land mysteriously blocked by big stones any time they wanted to enter it!”
“Very convenient! The Garde Champêtre of that time must have been a busy man!”
“In fact, Saint Corduliana and Saint Cordulina have never existed. Their legend had sprung from local tales, centuries ago. But in the 1960’s, scholars in the Vatican had reviewed the list of saints, and they had concluded that many of them were purely fictional. Together with tens of other saints, Corduliana and Cordulina had been deleted from the official list, and from the saints calendar, to the disappointment of the people of Montavelin, who had continued their veneration. This procession, with ‘real’ saints, was felt as a sort of rehabilitation of their beloved Saint Corduliana and Saint Cordulina.
“Patty, give me the peket, will you?”

It was after midnight now. The funfair had closed, but on the street, the feast went on. The influence of peket and Saison was clearly audible. Suddenly, they heard thumping above their head. Footsteps! Someone was walking on the roof. Outside, a little crowd seemed to have gathered. There was laughing and cheering and singing. Again, there were footsteps on the roof. There was more cheering and knocking on the door and on the stores. Once more someone walked over the roof.
“Sept cin milliard de sept cin milliard…!” Cursing, the Garde Champêtre went to the door.
“That is enough! Dispersez!” meanwhile, someone ran over the roof. “And get off my roof, you idiot!”
“Champêtre, having fun with those chicks?” the voice sounded alarmingly ‘under influence’.
“Champêtre, why don’t you share them with us?”
“Ta gueule! Shut up! Va-t-en! Get away!”
He closed the door. For a moment, it became quieter, but then, some of them returned, and a few minutes later, there were again footsteps on the roof. For Patty and Carry, it was clear that the building smelled like ‘lone women inside’.
The Garde Champêtre opened the door again, this time taking his double barrel gun with him. After a short argument, there was suddenly a shot, giving Patty and Carry a fright.
“Don’t worry,” he said when he entered, “blank shot!”
After the incident, it became quiet again. No one dared to approach the building anymore. Patty and Carry felt relieved.
“After all, that Garde Champêtre isn’t that bad!” Carry said. “He has protected us the whole day!”
“Right! Carry, is there some peket in that bottle left!?”

***

“Fât' pêtard ! D'vas li faye et goyî comm' ein' tute!”
“What do you say now!?”
“I’ll wring his neck, the bastard!”
“Whom!? Oh, right, that Garde Champêtre!”

What had happened? Well, actually, the Garde Champêtre from Montavelin had ‘cheated’ a little. Saturday afternoon, on the bridge over the railway, he had proposed Patty and Carry to drop their infractions they had committed on the railroad, if they would accept guilt for the other ones. Patty and Carry, still in shock by the terrible fate they just had escaped, had agreed without considering further.

In fact, the Garde Champêtre had no case for what they had done on the railroad, since that part of the trajectory was on the territory of the municipality of Valdaulnes. It was outside his jurisdiction . But as a qualified policeman, he still had the authority to establish formally the facts, and to hand them over to his colleague in Valdaulnes. His protocol about the facts was ex officio conclusive evidence.

At 8 a.m. Monday morning, the Garde Champêtre told Patty and Carry they were to be released. But according to procedure, he would have to bring them to the border of his jurisdiction. Still carrying Patty’s confiscated camera, he ordered the women to follow them in their little blue car. At the border between Montavelin and Valdaulnes, he released them, but they were immediately taken in custody by the Garde Champêtre from Valdaulnes, for the facts committed on the railroad. He took over the confiscation of Patty’s camera and ordered them to follow him. At the police office of Valdaulnes, Patty and Carry were proposed a plea bargain for trespassing the railroad, dropping the accusation of public obscenities. Entirely confused of what was going on, they accepted. The local judge condemned them to community service in Valdaulnes, until 8 a.m. Tuesday morning.

Montavelin holds its feast for Saint Corduliana and Saint Cordulina on the fourth Sunday of May. Valdaulnes has its own folkloric event, culminating on Whit Monday. That year, the forth Sunday of May was also Whit Sunday, so the festivals took place in the same weekend.

Montavelin and Valdaulnes had a tradition of rivalry. Since long, they both wanted their festival with real reenactors in realistic conditions. Thanks to Patty and Carry, Montavelin had its ‘first’ with their real saints. But now that Montavelin had beaten its rival, they had no problem passing their reenactors to Valdaulnes. After all, besides rivalry, there was also the sense for cooperation as both municipalities had to work together to keep up the prosperity of their common farming community.

Carry’s wrists were chained behind her back to a stake. A chain was fixed to the stake under her armpits. Another one around her waist. Another one around her ankles. The same for Patty. Both had been stripped naked before being tied to the stake. Their whipmarks from the previous day were very convenient for the occasion.
Around the year 1530, two witches had been burned at the stake in Valdaulnes. The event is remembered by a yearly folkloric Witch Burning Festival. This year, Valdaulnes had real reenactors.
The judge, in Middle Age dress, read the verdict from a fake parchment, with a fake red seal on it. His double tongue betrayed peket. Or Cuvée de Valdaulnes. Or both!
The bourgmestre, clearly under influence too, made a nonsense speech about how great and how fantastic Valdaulnes and its people were. Despite the nonsense, he got the people on his hand. The two ‘condemned witches’ got some beer to drink.
“Carry!?” Patty said, while Cuvée de Valdaulnes was dripping from her chin on her breasts.
“Yes, Patty?”
“Where are we in now? The stake is real, our chains are real, the woodpile is real, and the fire on the torches is real!”
“Right, Patty, and the peket is real, and we are real too, and here there is no saint they have to fear the wrath off.”
“Carry, what are they going to do with us?”
“Perhaps, they just want us to get the right facial expression?”
“Damn you, Carry!”

THE END.
 
NO TRESPASSING – COMMUNITY SERVICE (5)

‘Le moment supreme!’
“Grab the straps with your fists!” the festival director ordered Patty and Carry.
“But..why?”
“Do it Patty!” Carry said.
Carry had got the message. One of the men grabbed her legs and took the wooden box from under her feet. Carry hung with her full weight to the straps.
“Carryyyy!” Patty shouted when it was her turn. Both hung writhing to their cross, vainly trampling their feet, seeking support. The only relief they got by pulling by their fists to the straps, soon stressed their arms and their fists. They had to do serious effort to keep themselves pulled up, otherwise, they immediately felt a pressure on their breathing. They soon sweated profusely.
The crowd enjoyed it. The bells of the church rang joyful, the band enthusiastically played ‘Sambre et Meuse’, the men of the shooter’s guild fired three salute shots with their Napoleontic muzzleloader guns, each time with a thundering noise and spreading white clouds of gunpowder over the place. The people moved in circles around the scaffold, in order to watch the scene from all sides. Then the scene evolved into a dancing feast in front of the scaffold.
“Carryi I cannot take this no longer!”
“It.. just.. has to be a little realistic, Patty!”
“Damn you, Carry! What else are they going to do with us?”

***

“What a day!”
“You can say that, Carry! Damn! My arms are wrecked!”

Sunday evening. Patty and Carry were in the police office, after their ‘performance’ of Saint Corduliana and Saint Cordulina, patron saints of the local church of Montavelin. Outside, the kermesse was still going on. The sound of the attractions of the funfair was very close, as was the noise of the partygoers on the streets. The Garde Champêtre was doing some paperwork, while Patty and Carry had been locked up in a cell. As a matter of security, rather than for punishment.
Patty and Carry had been left hanging for about thirty minutes. Then they had been released. The people of Montavelin would not have done them real harm, even not under influence of peket and Saison, as they feared they would have invoked the wrath of their patrons, Saint Corduliana and Saint Cordulina.
When Patty and carry had finally been released, they got a blanket to cover their body. The Garde Champêtre brought them back to his office. Underway, they were awaited by an immense applause. Clearly, the people of Montavelin had appreciated their reenacting. They got a shower and got dressed. Although they had done enough community service for the day, they were supposed to stay until the end of their sentence, 8 a.m. Monday morning.
“Have you heard, about the legend of Corduliana and Cordulina?”
“I have been told that they were killed during a persecution for being Christians.”
“But do you know the clue, Patty?”
“No, tell me?”
“Corduliana and Cordulina were two wealthy widows, who had a domain. Their farm did well, and although they lived pious and chaste and they gave a lot to the poor, the other landlords were jealous. One of them threatened Corduliana and Cordulina he would denounce them as Christians to the authorities, if they would not share the bed with him and his bachelor son. Of course our chaste, pious ladies refused. They were dragged from property to property, flogged at each property and finally crucified on the hill where now Montavelin is.”
“Wait a minute, Carry! If I heard it good, they have cheated here, right!?”
“Indeed, they did! Nevertheless, their fear for divine wrath is real! God punished the area with a yearly returning rainstorm, that swept all the crops from the fields just before the harvesting season would begin! And the landlord and his son saw the access to their land mysteriously blocked by big stones any time they wanted to enter it!”
“Very convenient! The Garde Champêtre of that time must have been a busy man!”
“In fact, Saint Corduliana and Saint Cordulina have never existed. Their legend had sprung from local tales, centuries ago. But in the 1960’s, scholars in the Vatican had reviewed the list of saints, and they had concluded that many of them were purely fictional. Together with tens of other saints, Corduliana and Cordulina had been deleted from the official list, and from the saints calendar, to the disappointment of the people of Montavelin, who had continued their veneration. This procession, with ‘real’ saints, was felt as a sort of rehabilitation of their beloved Saint Corduliana and Saint Cordulina.
“Patty, give me the peket, will you?”

It was after midnight now. The funfair had closed, but on the street, the feast went on. The influence of peket and Saison was clearly audible. Suddenly, they heard thumping above their head. Footsteps! Someone was walking on the roof. Outside, a little crowd seemed to have gathered. There was laughing and cheering and singing. Again, there were footsteps on the roof. There was more cheering and knocking on the door and on the stores. Once more someone walked over the roof.
“Sept cin milliard de sept cin milliard…!” Cursing, the Garde Champêtre went to the door.
“That is enough! Dispersez!” meanwhile, someone ran over the roof. “And get off my roof, you idiot!”
“Champêtre, having fun with those chicks?” the voice sounded alarmingly ‘under influence’.
“Champêtre, why don’t you share them with us?”
“Ta gueule! Shut up! Va-t-en! Get away!”
He closed the door. For a moment, it became quieter, but then, some of them returned, and a few minutes later, there were again footsteps on the roof. For Patty and Carry, it was clear that the building smelled like ‘lone women inside’.
The Garde Champêtre opened the door again, this time taking his double barrel gun with him. After a short argument, there was suddenly a shot, giving Patty and Carry a fright.
“Don’t worry,” he said when he entered, “blank shot!”
After the incident, it became quiet again. No one dared to approach the building anymore. Patty and Carry felt relieved.
“After all, that Garde Champêtre isn’t that bad!” Carry said. “He has protected us the whole day!”
“Right! Carry, is there some peket in that bottle left!?”

***

“Fât' pêtard ! D'vas li faye et goyî comm' ein' tute!”
“What do you say now!?”
“I’ll wring his neck, the bastard!”
“Whom!? Oh, right, that Garde Champêtre!”

What had happened? Well, actually, the Garde Champêtre from Montavelin had ‘cheated’ a little. Saturday afternoon, on the bridge over the railway, he had proposed Patty and Carry to drop their infractions they had committed on the railroad, if they would accept guilt for the other ones. Patty and Carry, still in shock by the terrible fate they just had escaped, had agreed without considering further.

In fact, the Garde Champêtre had no case for what they had done on the railroad, since that part of the trajectory was on the territory of the municipality of Valdaulnes. It was outside his jurisdiction . But as a qualified policeman, he still had the authority to establish formally the facts, and to hand them over to his colleague in Valdaulnes. His protocol about the facts was ex officio conclusive evidence.

At 8 a.m. Monday morning, the Garde Champêtre told Patty and Carry they were to be released. But according to procedure, he would have to bring them to the border of his jurisdiction. Still carrying Patty’s confiscated camera, he ordered the women to follow them in their little blue car. At the border between Montavelin and Valdaulnes, he released them, but they were immediately taken in custody by the Garde Champêtre from Valdaulnes, for the facts committed on the railroad. He took over the confiscation of Patty’s camera and ordered them to follow him. At the police office of Valdaulnes, Patty and Carry were proposed a plea bargain for trespassing the railroad, dropping the accusation of public obscenities. Entirely confused of what was going on, they accepted. The local judge condemned them to community service in Valdaulnes, until 8 a.m. Tuesday morning.

Montavelin holds its feast for Saint Corduliana and Saint Cordulina on the fourth Sunday of May. Valdaulnes has its own folkloric event, culminating on Whit Monday. That year, the forth Sunday of May was also Whit Sunday, so the festivals took place in the same weekend.

Montavelin and Valdaulnes had a tradition of rivalry. Since long, they both wanted their festival with real reenactors in realistic conditions. Thanks to Patty and Carry, Montavelin had its ‘first’ with their real saints. But now that Montavelin had beaten its rival, they had no problem passing their reenactors to Valdaulnes. After all, besides rivalry, there was also the sense for cooperation as both municipalities had to work together to keep up the prosperity of their common farming community.

Carry’s wrists were chained behind her back to a stake. A chain was fixed to the stake under her armpits. Another one around her waist. Another one around her ankles. The same for Patty. Both had been stripped naked before being tied to the stake. Their whipmarks from the previous day were very convenient for the occasion.
Around the year 1530, two witches had been burned at the stake in Valdaulnes. The event is remembered by a yearly folkloric Witch Burning Festival. This year, Valdaulnes had real reenactors.
The judge, in Middle Age dress, read the verdict from a fake parchment, with a fake red seal on it. His double tongue betrayed peket. Or Cuvée de Valdaulnes. Or both!
The bourgmestre, clearly under influence too, made a nonsense speech about how great and how fantastic Valdaulnes and its people were. Despite the nonsense, he got the people on his hand. The two ‘condemned witches’ got some beer to drink.
“Carry!?” Patty said, while Cuvée de Valdaulnes was dripping from her chin on her breasts.
“Yes, Patty?”
“Where are we in now? The stake is real, our chains are real, the woodpile is real, and the fire on the torches is real!”
“Right, Patty, and the peket is real, and we are real too, and here there is no saint they have to fear the wrath off.”
“Carry, what are they going to do with us?”
“Perhaps, they just want us to get the right facial expression?”
“Damn you, Carry!”

THE END.


Oh My God Yes, that last part where they are chained to their posts
woodpile all set up, all that is needed it is to light it,and then watching
the burning torch plunged into the woodpile. what would my thoughts be,
nothing, i would be having the the most intense orgasm of my life.
five minutes later i would screaming in agony.
 
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