Migoz2
Senator
Another #MeToo moment?
You can button up your shirt, but you can't stop what our minds are doing............Memo to myself: button up next time!
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The Cane Mutiny
- Thread starter windar
- Start date
twonines
LIMERICUS
Demerits or not, I suspect that you are about to discover that my advice is basically sound and that George will drive the message home in spades.
windar
Teller of Tales
Oh, come on, Moore, we all know you left those buttons open on purpose!Memo to myself: button up next time!
Migoz2
Senator
Barb likes to show a little MooreOh, come on, Moore, we all know you left those buttons open on purpose!
twonines
LIMERICUS
All too frequently!Happens, doesn’t it?
Gibbs505
SERVORUM DOMITOR
I am sure its an option!
connoisseurs
Senator
Would that be #UsToo ?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
The Stan Goldman Trust, the Hangingtree Foundation, the Wragg Fund, the Praetorio Endowment, the Loxuru Institute, Jollyrei Philantropies,...
The Stan Goldman Trust, the Hangingtree Foundation, the Wragg Fund, the Praetorio Endowment, the Loxuru Institute, Jollyrei Philantropies,...
All of which are currently under federal investigation for aiding and abetting injustices to women, following a spate of whistle blowing by someone operating under the mysterious alias of BM.
Migoz2
Senator
Watergate had Deep Throat. Cruxgate has BM, which I believe stands for 'Blow Me'. Which is a clever choice of name, because it immediately rules out a certain someone with those initials who doesn't do THAT.All of which are currently under federal investigation for aiding and abetting injustices to women, following a spate of whistle blowing by someone operating under the mysterious alias of BM.
Shit! Migoz is onto me in a flash. And I thought I was being so clever. I’m going to need a foolproof disguise now to avoid retaliation. The Senate is already demanding that I be exposed.
windar
Teller of Tales
That you will be exposed at the Female Corporal Punishment Center is certain.
twonines
LIMERICUS
What gives you the idea that its only the Senate that wants to see you exposed? False modesty doesn`t become you
twonines
LIMERICUS
No doubt the retaliation will be extremely brutal as well.Whether or not you obtain a professorial Chair is now in serious doubt, although I would imagine that after your upcoming experience, the merest thought about a chair will be an anathema.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
How come this concentration of study by Barb doesn't surprise me?
That seems out of character.
Wanting to look good for a caning? That Barb!
Thank goodness she didn't post the note verbatim!
How come this concentration of study by Barb doesn't surprise me?
Because you know me too well ?
4.
A thoroughly perplexed Barbara Moore exited the #6 bus on the corner just down the street from the rather unremarkable-looking entrance to Female Corporal Punishment Center #3 ... perplexed because the media had failed to turned up despite the fact that she had taken such careful pains to alert them. How was she to read her prepared statement from the steps of the Center if there was no one present to hear and record it?
She walked slowly down the street, hoping that someone would still show ... but by the time she had mounted the four steps leading to the Center’s entrance she was disappointedly still alone. With one last hopeful glance down the empty street and a sigh of resignation, she turned away and pressed the buzzer mounted to the right of the doorway.
“Yes?” responded a metallic sounding voice.
“I’m Barbara Moore. I was told to report here at 11.”
“You’re six minutes late!” snapped the voice.
“Sorry, the bus was a bit slow this morning.”
“No, it wasn’t. You were dawdling about on the street. Saw it on the surveillance cam. Better get your sweet little ass in here fast, girl, if you know what’s good for you.”
A buzzer sounded, and the door opened. Barb stepped inside, and strode quickly up to the large desk that dominated the foyer, and from behind which a Wicked-Witch-of-the-West-faced female officer glared at her disapprovingly.
“Summons letter and ID!” she demanded.
Barb fumbled in her backpack to produce the letter and then her driver’s license, both of which were rudely snatched from her grasp.
“This license expired over three months ago,” sniffed the woman, raising one thinly penciled eyebrow.
“Really? Well ... I’m very busy, you see ... with my teaching and research ... and I probably just ....”
“Save it, sweetie. I can see from the photo it’s you alright. But I’ll have to place a note about this in your file.”
Barb muttered a barely audible word of thanks to the woman who busied herself writing a memo about the expired license, and inserting it along with the Summons to Appear for Corporal Punishment letter and the driver’s license in a file with red edging and the name Barbara A. Moore, followed by a long series of numbers, stenciled on the front.
“Take this, go down the corridor, third door to the right and hand it to one of the officers there. They’ll complete the intake paperwork and guide you through the process.”
Barb made her way down the corridor as instructed. When she got to where she was going, the door was open. Stopping short, just outside, she drew in a deep breath, and entered ... working hard to exude an air of confidence that she did not feel.
There were two women waiting for her. A quick glance at the name tags pinned to their uniform shirts told her that the one nearest was Sergeant S. Miller, and the other Officer B. Timmins.. Neither were smiling.
“Hello. I’m Barbara Moore.”
“We know who you are,” snapped Sue. “Hand my colleague your file.”
Barb handed it over and watched as Beth checked her Summons to Appear for Corporal Punishment letter and her ID. She noted the woman’s curiously smug smile as she read the memo regarding the expired license.
“Expired ID, eh?” said Beth, looking up. “We’ll pass that bit on. Could mean a supplemental for you. They’ll decide later.”
“I have a question ... No, two questions, actually. The first is, who are ‘they’? And the second is, why wasn’t the Press here when I arrived? They should have been ... that is, I expected them. I have a statement, you see, that I am sure they were aware I intended to read to them.”
“Ordinarily, we don’t answer questions here, but in this case ... “ said Beth, with a dismissive wave of her hand, “ ... I’ll make an exception. The answer to the first question is, you’ll find out. It would normally be Sergeant Miller here, but in your case ... probably up to George, given those who will be present at your caning. You don’t know George, but you’ll be meeting him soon enough.”
“I see,” said Barb slowly as she attempted to process that.
“The answer to the second is ...“ Beth continued, “we know you for what you are ... a rabble rousing, upstart, whiney bitch of a commie professor who would like nothing better than to turn her day of corporal punishment into a media circus, with the intention of slandering the reputation of the Department, the Center, and the system that keeps Do-Gooder people like yourself from mucking up things for everyone else.”
“But, I ...”
“Shut your mealy-mouth trap!” chimed in Sue with a snarl. “What my colleague is telling you is ... we ... that is our superiors ... got to the media first. Neither of us know the details ... above our pay grade, as they say ... but we believe they offered those sensation-seeking media types the opportunity to cover a far better story than a lousy street protest over some fabricated lies you may have written. We suspect our bosses have given the media the exclusive chance to cover, instead, the whupping of your sorry little bare ass! And, as for your slanderous written statement ... if you’re lucky ... they may just allow you to read it on camera ... after they strip you down ... and before they strap you to the caning stand!”
“Oh, and one more thing ...” interjected Beth. “You should know that everyone on staff is pretty pissed. Punishments here are normally scheduled for 9 am. But you show up at 11. You know what that means? It means we miss lunch! Who the fuck do you think you are, anyway? I personally hope George gives you more than eighteen!”
Taken aback, Barb was at a loss. She couldn’t think of anything to say. Her usual feisty spirit ... had all but vanished.
“Follow me,” Sue said curtly as Beth handed her Barbara’s file along with the completed log in paperwork.
She led the way down a corridor, with Barb trailing behind and Beth bringing up the rear, to a door marked “Offender Changing Area”. Flashing her card key, and entering the PIN, she opened the door.
A thoroughly perplexed Barbara Moore exited the #6 bus on the corner just down the street from the rather unremarkable-looking entrance to Female Corporal Punishment Center #3 ... perplexed because the media had failed to turned up despite the fact that she had taken such careful pains to alert them. How was she to read her prepared statement from the steps of the Center if there was no one present to hear and record it?
She walked slowly down the street, hoping that someone would still show ... but by the time she had mounted the four steps leading to the Center’s entrance she was disappointedly still alone. With one last hopeful glance down the empty street and a sigh of resignation, she turned away and pressed the buzzer mounted to the right of the doorway.
“Yes?” responded a metallic sounding voice.
“I’m Barbara Moore. I was told to report here at 11.”
“You’re six minutes late!” snapped the voice.
“Sorry, the bus was a bit slow this morning.”
“No, it wasn’t. You were dawdling about on the street. Saw it on the surveillance cam. Better get your sweet little ass in here fast, girl, if you know what’s good for you.”
A buzzer sounded, and the door opened. Barb stepped inside, and strode quickly up to the large desk that dominated the foyer, and from behind which a Wicked-Witch-of-the-West-faced female officer glared at her disapprovingly.
“Summons letter and ID!” she demanded.
Barb fumbled in her backpack to produce the letter and then her driver’s license, both of which were rudely snatched from her grasp.
“This license expired over three months ago,” sniffed the woman, raising one thinly penciled eyebrow.
“Really? Well ... I’m very busy, you see ... with my teaching and research ... and I probably just ....”
“Save it, sweetie. I can see from the photo it’s you alright. But I’ll have to place a note about this in your file.”
Barb muttered a barely audible word of thanks to the woman who busied herself writing a memo about the expired license, and inserting it along with the Summons to Appear for Corporal Punishment letter and the driver’s license in a file with red edging and the name Barbara A. Moore, followed by a long series of numbers, stenciled on the front.
“Take this, go down the corridor, third door to the right and hand it to one of the officers there. They’ll complete the intake paperwork and guide you through the process.”
Barb made her way down the corridor as instructed. When she got to where she was going, the door was open. Stopping short, just outside, she drew in a deep breath, and entered ... working hard to exude an air of confidence that she did not feel.
There were two women waiting for her. A quick glance at the name tags pinned to their uniform shirts told her that the one nearest was Sergeant S. Miller, and the other Officer B. Timmins.. Neither were smiling.
“Hello. I’m Barbara Moore.”
“We know who you are,” snapped Sue. “Hand my colleague your file.”
Barb handed it over and watched as Beth checked her Summons to Appear for Corporal Punishment letter and her ID. She noted the woman’s curiously smug smile as she read the memo regarding the expired license.
“Expired ID, eh?” said Beth, looking up. “We’ll pass that bit on. Could mean a supplemental for you. They’ll decide later.”
“I have a question ... No, two questions, actually. The first is, who are ‘they’? And the second is, why wasn’t the Press here when I arrived? They should have been ... that is, I expected them. I have a statement, you see, that I am sure they were aware I intended to read to them.”
“Ordinarily, we don’t answer questions here, but in this case ... “ said Beth, with a dismissive wave of her hand, “ ... I’ll make an exception. The answer to the first question is, you’ll find out. It would normally be Sergeant Miller here, but in your case ... probably up to George, given those who will be present at your caning. You don’t know George, but you’ll be meeting him soon enough.”
“I see,” said Barb slowly as she attempted to process that.
“The answer to the second is ...“ Beth continued, “we know you for what you are ... a rabble rousing, upstart, whiney bitch of a commie professor who would like nothing better than to turn her day of corporal punishment into a media circus, with the intention of slandering the reputation of the Department, the Center, and the system that keeps Do-Gooder people like yourself from mucking up things for everyone else.”
“But, I ...”
“Shut your mealy-mouth trap!” chimed in Sue with a snarl. “What my colleague is telling you is ... we ... that is our superiors ... got to the media first. Neither of us know the details ... above our pay grade, as they say ... but we believe they offered those sensation-seeking media types the opportunity to cover a far better story than a lousy street protest over some fabricated lies you may have written. We suspect our bosses have given the media the exclusive chance to cover, instead, the whupping of your sorry little bare ass! And, as for your slanderous written statement ... if you’re lucky ... they may just allow you to read it on camera ... after they strip you down ... and before they strap you to the caning stand!”
“Oh, and one more thing ...” interjected Beth. “You should know that everyone on staff is pretty pissed. Punishments here are normally scheduled for 9 am. But you show up at 11. You know what that means? It means we miss lunch! Who the fuck do you think you are, anyway? I personally hope George gives you more than eighteen!”
Taken aback, Barb was at a loss. She couldn’t think of anything to say. Her usual feisty spirit ... had all but vanished.
“Follow me,” Sue said curtly as Beth handed her Barbara’s file along with the completed log in paperwork.
She led the way down a corridor, with Barb trailing behind and Beth bringing up the rear, to a door marked “Offender Changing Area”. Flashing her card key, and entering the PIN, she opened the door.
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Migoz2
Senator
She has only just met Barbara, but is clearly a very good judge of character.
So, gentle readers, I am now taking bets: how many brutal strokes of the cane is Barbara going to receive?
I am offering 100 to 1 on the scheduled 18, and a sliding scale up to 36 strokes for now. Being late and expired ID would suggest maybe 24? But I suspect we are going to see Moore infractions....