Not yet!!! You still need to meet with Eulalia (next segment)...
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The Olympic Crux
- Thread starter thehangingtree
- Start date
Dorothy Brown
Brown Sugar
Another Love Tunnel Ruined For A Week
It trained hardworking ..
Barb meets Eulalia
I finally get to meet Eulalia, the slave-bard crucified at the beginning of the Tokyo Olympics Closing Ceremony. She is a pretty woman with her hair pulled up. She one that would draw second looks on the street or in a club but even more so with the healed wounds that penetrate her wrists and feet! I explain who I am and why I wish to see her. After explaining I training to participate in the 2024 Olympic Crux Games she asks “Are you upset your owner is sending you?”
“My owner?” I asked bewildered.
“Yes, your Master or Mistress- are you upset you have been entered?”
“I am not a slave. I entered on my own” I explain.
“Oh?” she asks almost as if to say ‘how stupid can you be’.
“I am researching my thesis on executions through the ages and figured experiencing a crucifixion would add depth” I reply with my tone definitely one of condescension.
“If I may be so bold I do hope you pass on beheading, burning, at the stake, etcetera…”
“You don’t look like a slave” I say accusingly.
“Mistress Melissa thought you an important enough guest she had me cleaned and dressed. Usually I would be in subbasement passing beans, grinding them, or stoking the oven that dries them” she says with enough of an edge to her voice I can tell I have annoyed her. I apologize as I am here to gather information and really don’t need her to be evasive or less than open. In a calmer voice she says “I am a slave and my emotions should be of no concern to you. What do you want to know?”
I get up, pour a glass of wine, and ask her if she would like one. She seems surprised I asked but accept. As she reaches for the glass the strap of the knit halter dress comes undone exposing her left breast. She does nothing to recover it. I don’t comment and ask her to tell me of experience of her crucifixion and ask if I may record her story. She says it is up to me. This is the story she relates to me…
“I was pulled from some room and placed in irons. The shackles chain was barely longer than from my elbow to the tip of my finger- about half my gait in a casual stroll- but it and the irons were heavy. A longer chain was attached to the iron collar and was held at the other end by a man on a chariot. I’m told it was two kilometers to the stadium with the route lined with people the whole way. They seemed to enjoy the spectacle though for the most part they were talking of screaming in languages I do not speak. But laughter is universal and there was much of that especially when I fell, which was often with a sudden jerk of the lead chain followed with two escorts swatting me with bamboo canes.
“In the stadium I was brought up a platform some 30 meters tall where the tallest cross you will ever see waited for me. I’m sure you are curious about how being nailed felt. It is impossible to describe. I remember the first spike pressing against my skin and watching the hammer swing but to relate what the pain felt like is beyond my ability. You can’t imagine it and won’t believe it when it happens.
“I vaguely remember having my feet positioned one over the other. I know I didn’t resist because my mind was filled with pain my wrists were in. All I can tell you about having my feet spiked was it was beyond what the pain of them doing my wrists- combined- and the only thing I remember was as they finished driving the spike into the wood I could feel the spike drag through my feet and the cross vibrated against my back. I don’t even remember them ‘tagging’ my labia.
“The raising of the cross is a blur. I’ve seen the video and still don’t remember it happening. The platform swung from beneath me and somehow its base lands in a socket 30 meters below me.”
I have seen the video and I’d swear it was a computer graphic stunt except for the crowd that was there cheering wildly.
“I can’t describe the pain and terror I felt against the callous enjoyment of the spectators and athletes watching me as hung helplessly above the field. Everyone passing took pictures of me preferable looking up between my splayed legs.”
“I was ‘only’ supposed to be crucified six hours but for all the mastery of getting me up after the crowd filed out something broke and they didn’t have a back-up crane to lower the cross. The union wanted double-time pay for working that late and there was no one there to authorize so I was left hanging from the cross overnight- more than 16 hours in total…
“The worst part was at night. There were only a few security guards and custodians left and most of the lights in the stadium were off- certainly all illuminating me. In August Tokyo is hot and humid and there was no breeze to speak of. Add in the stadium that baked in the sun all day and it was stifling even after dark.
“You will ‘do a dance’ as try to relieve one muscle or limb at a time. You’ll never succeed and even when your mind knows it’s better to keep still your body isn’t interested in listening. And a piece of advice if I may; when you have to relieve yourself don’t waste the energy to appease any shred of modesty.”
“Would you do it again?” I ask.
“I have done it again. The nailing doesn’t hurt for obvious reasons but after an hour all the hell comes back. With your feet nailed to the stipe you can’t straighten your legs without pushing out which just hurts your wrists. The wood reminds you it and the spikes own you.”
“Why do you do it then?” I ask. She leans towards me and says “Mistress Melissa makes a fortune when she has me crucified. Besides I need it at times.”
I leave with more questions than answers but the most immediate one is how am I to get back to the Tree estate after wrapping his Mustang around the utility pole. Then I have to explain how I wrecked it. I better think of something good.
I step out of the coffee shop and find instead of the wrecked car the ’68 Lincoln limousine is parked with the back ‘suicide’ door open and Ulrika leaning against the car smoking a Madame Wu Blunt. She says “Hop in Barb. The car’s taken care of.”
She drives me towards the Tree Estate. The glass divider is open and she says “There’s a shop in Eureka that keeps parts to rebuild the whole fucking thing. They even keep a bay open for it. Tree won’t admit it but he’s wrecked the beast more than once. It will be fixed the day after tomorrow.”
She pulls the Lincoln into a drive that is not the Tree estate. She explains it’s her place. She hopes I don’t mind. I can hardly wait… -Barb Moore
Tree
LA Olympic Logo courtesy Madiosi
I finally get to meet Eulalia, the slave-bard crucified at the beginning of the Tokyo Olympics Closing Ceremony. She is a pretty woman with her hair pulled up. She one that would draw second looks on the street or in a club but even more so with the healed wounds that penetrate her wrists and feet! I explain who I am and why I wish to see her. After explaining I training to participate in the 2024 Olympic Crux Games she asks “Are you upset your owner is sending you?”
“My owner?” I asked bewildered.
“Yes, your Master or Mistress- are you upset you have been entered?”
“I am not a slave. I entered on my own” I explain.
“Oh?” she asks almost as if to say ‘how stupid can you be’.
“I am researching my thesis on executions through the ages and figured experiencing a crucifixion would add depth” I reply with my tone definitely one of condescension.
“If I may be so bold I do hope you pass on beheading, burning, at the stake, etcetera…”
“You don’t look like a slave” I say accusingly.
“Mistress Melissa thought you an important enough guest she had me cleaned and dressed. Usually I would be in subbasement passing beans, grinding them, or stoking the oven that dries them” she says with enough of an edge to her voice I can tell I have annoyed her. I apologize as I am here to gather information and really don’t need her to be evasive or less than open. In a calmer voice she says “I am a slave and my emotions should be of no concern to you. What do you want to know?”
I get up, pour a glass of wine, and ask her if she would like one. She seems surprised I asked but accept. As she reaches for the glass the strap of the knit halter dress comes undone exposing her left breast. She does nothing to recover it. I don’t comment and ask her to tell me of experience of her crucifixion and ask if I may record her story. She says it is up to me. This is the story she relates to me…
“I was pulled from some room and placed in irons. The shackles chain was barely longer than from my elbow to the tip of my finger- about half my gait in a casual stroll- but it and the irons were heavy. A longer chain was attached to the iron collar and was held at the other end by a man on a chariot. I’m told it was two kilometers to the stadium with the route lined with people the whole way. They seemed to enjoy the spectacle though for the most part they were talking of screaming in languages I do not speak. But laughter is universal and there was much of that especially when I fell, which was often with a sudden jerk of the lead chain followed with two escorts swatting me with bamboo canes.
“In the stadium I was brought up a platform some 30 meters tall where the tallest cross you will ever see waited for me. I’m sure you are curious about how being nailed felt. It is impossible to describe. I remember the first spike pressing against my skin and watching the hammer swing but to relate what the pain felt like is beyond my ability. You can’t imagine it and won’t believe it when it happens.
“I vaguely remember having my feet positioned one over the other. I know I didn’t resist because my mind was filled with pain my wrists were in. All I can tell you about having my feet spiked was it was beyond what the pain of them doing my wrists- combined- and the only thing I remember was as they finished driving the spike into the wood I could feel the spike drag through my feet and the cross vibrated against my back. I don’t even remember them ‘tagging’ my labia.
“The raising of the cross is a blur. I’ve seen the video and still don’t remember it happening. The platform swung from beneath me and somehow its base lands in a socket 30 meters below me.”
I have seen the video and I’d swear it was a computer graphic stunt except for the crowd that was there cheering wildly.
“I can’t describe the pain and terror I felt against the callous enjoyment of the spectators and athletes watching me as hung helplessly above the field. Everyone passing took pictures of me preferable looking up between my splayed legs.”
“I was ‘only’ supposed to be crucified six hours but for all the mastery of getting me up after the crowd filed out something broke and they didn’t have a back-up crane to lower the cross. The union wanted double-time pay for working that late and there was no one there to authorize so I was left hanging from the cross overnight- more than 16 hours in total…
“The worst part was at night. There were only a few security guards and custodians left and most of the lights in the stadium were off- certainly all illuminating me. In August Tokyo is hot and humid and there was no breeze to speak of. Add in the stadium that baked in the sun all day and it was stifling even after dark.
“You will ‘do a dance’ as try to relieve one muscle or limb at a time. You’ll never succeed and even when your mind knows it’s better to keep still your body isn’t interested in listening. And a piece of advice if I may; when you have to relieve yourself don’t waste the energy to appease any shred of modesty.”
“Would you do it again?” I ask.
“I have done it again. The nailing doesn’t hurt for obvious reasons but after an hour all the hell comes back. With your feet nailed to the stipe you can’t straighten your legs without pushing out which just hurts your wrists. The wood reminds you it and the spikes own you.”
“Why do you do it then?” I ask. She leans towards me and says “Mistress Melissa makes a fortune when she has me crucified. Besides I need it at times.”
I leave with more questions than answers but the most immediate one is how am I to get back to the Tree estate after wrapping his Mustang around the utility pole. Then I have to explain how I wrecked it. I better think of something good.
I step out of the coffee shop and find instead of the wrecked car the ’68 Lincoln limousine is parked with the back ‘suicide’ door open and Ulrika leaning against the car smoking a Madame Wu Blunt. She says “Hop in Barb. The car’s taken care of.”
She drives me towards the Tree Estate. The glass divider is open and she says “There’s a shop in Eureka that keeps parts to rebuild the whole fucking thing. They even keep a bay open for it. Tree won’t admit it but he’s wrecked the beast more than once. It will be fixed the day after tomorrow.”
She pulls the Lincoln into a drive that is not the Tree estate. She explains it’s her place. She hopes I don’t mind. I can hardly wait… -Barb Moore
Tree
LA Olympic Logo courtesy Madiosi
I think I got something out of my meeting with Eul, I just need someone to tell me what it is
I did get the Mustang fixed though thanks to Ukrika... But at what price? Time will tell
The Mustang is of no worry as Ulrika cooks Tree's books and you seemed to have cooked something of hers...I think I got something out of my meeting with Eul, I just need someone to tell me what it is
I did get the Mustang fixed though thanks to Ukrika... But at what price? Time will tell
I'm just saying...
T
Hondoboot2
QUAESTOR PULCHRITUDINIS
I jump into my vette,
start the engine, and head to the bank to withdraw $5,000 for Barb. After leaving the bank, I head for I44 to Pacific, Missouri. According to Google maps, the trip will take 6hr, 53 Min. I plan on making it faster than than, I am after all in a Zo6. I hit the highway, shifting, 3rd, 4th, and into 5th, up to 120 now, and no troopers in sight, I am coming Barb!I get there just under 4hours, had to slow down at a few locations on I44 (troopers).
I head to the jail were Barb is being held.
I hand over the 5 k and she is free.
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I only report what I hearView attachment 380903 "cooked something of hers"??????? OH YOU
Don't you have a decent radar/laser detector??? You could have stopped at the Springfield (Missouri) QuikTrip and paid at the pump and cut a half hour (at least) off the trip.
Ol' Tree
My hero ...
Hondoboot2
QUAESTOR PULCHRITUDINIS
I don't have a radar detector, but thanks for the tip about Springfield, I might need to bail Barb out again some day.
Hondoboot2
QUAESTOR PULCHRITUDINIS
Just out of curiosity, how many Mustangs has Barb totaled?