Myds6

The soft fabric of the panties couldn’t handle all the strain of her violent movements in addition to holding her up, so they gave out sooner, perhaps, than they would have, sparing her some time in the indignity of a hanging wedgie.

The panties dug into her, both back and front as she dangled. Terrified, she swung her arms and legs to try to right her position. To what end, she was uncertain. She was still afraid to look down.

Again, she anticipated a serious fall, although she was less than half as high as she had been when the flagpole gave out.

The plank, instead of breaking, angled itself down, and the splinters her glutes acquired as she slid down were painful, but the least of her worries. At the end, there seemed to have been another hook, and this broke her fall by catching on the back of her white panties, the last article of clothing she had left.

She was left suspended from the plank by a wedgie!

The string had been attached to a rope, which held on one side, a counterweight. As the string broke, the counterweight pulled down on the rope, which, through a pulley on the ground was connected to a lever.

 The lever was connected to a tiny catapult, which was loaded and carefully aimed. All this meant for Gretchen was that in addition to being de facto spanked by the springboard, her vision was suddenly stolen from her by one of Dacquoise’s famous cream pies. 

…and dropped her again on her beleaguered behind.

But this time, a mechanical click was heard, and she watched a small string that had been attached to the underside of the springboard snap. Her mind couldn’t understand the significance of it, but it was less than a second before it became apparent.

The springboard launched her a few feet into the air again…

Any comments?

How do you like where things are going?  If you make any suggestions, I can't guarantee it will happen, but I'm still writing the story.  I have a plot arc, but I only make the specifics when I do the art.  I can possibly be influenced, especially if I love the idea.

To her surprise, the fall was broken, in short order, as her backside made contact with a wide, thin plank that was inexplicably projecting from the wall just below the flagpole, the puddle of oil, and the attachment of the rope that had allowed her to escape the quicksand.

The full brunt of the impact of her fall was taken by her round backside, her cheeks flattening against the wooden plank which had just enough give that it felt like a giant paddle. In fact, to her surprise, it behaved as if it was attached to the wall using springs!

Then, things took a turn for the worse, if that was possible.

With a creak and a groan, the metal flagpole started to come loose from the wall, first inclining away from the wall. Her shirt and vest, instead of holding her in place, came unbuttoned, and she slid on her crotch, again, out away from the wall. She nearly screamed, anticipating a long fall.

"Gopfertelli! My eggs are scrambled!" she cursed as her fall was broken by a flagpole that was located directly below the puddle of oil. Indeed she had landed with one leg on either side of the flagpole.

  She was starting to understand that this couldn’t be mere coincidence.

But there was no time to think on that any more, as her battered pussy slide down the cold metal pole, which was inclined toward the wall, until her back was against the stone. Already on guard for such things, she realized that tiny hooks had pierced her shirt and vest. Maybe they would keep her from falling any further.

She should have been looking in front of her, however. As she planted her feet on the wall and stepped around to survey the situation before her next move, she failed to watch the stone under her feet.

 By the time she felt the slippery olive oil, it was too late; she was slipping off the wall!

Finally reaching the ledge, she pulled herself up without difficulty. As a mercenary, she had pulled herself up more than a few ledges even at her relatively young adulthood.

 She cracked a slight smile knowing that that terrible quicksand and wall hook experience was behind her. 

Much relieved, she found that the rope was firmly attached to the wall. But to her unexpected chagrin, the wall had been outfitted on either side of the rope with small hooks.

She hadn’t detected these, and her climbing position kept her upper body far enough from the wall that they hadn’t been an issue. Her legs, however, were a different story. The hooks found purchase in her pant legs, and her attempts to extricate them were futile. As she climbed the wall, her pants were slipping down!

Sadly, there was no going back, due to the quicksand. And her attempts to free the garment were frustrated by the number of hooks and the variety of ...

She considered turning back, but found that the ground under her was sinking fast.

 It seemed she had found a patch of quicksand. Luckily for her, the rope was just within reach, and she was able to grab it and climb out, unfortunately having to sacrifice her sodden boots. 

She found no evidence to answer any of these questions, but, as she drew near the rope, the ground became soft and muddy. Her steps became difficult as her boots sunk into the mire.

Spying a rope hanging from the top of the wall, she approached it for a closer inspection.

Who would leave such a hazard to security? Were there dissenters in the walls who wanted the Foxglove sisters to conquer the town? Was this the work of some Foxglove soldiers enabling their rescue? Or is this the place one of her sisters had climbed in and let down a rope to enable her to follow?

Meanwhile, outside, Gretchen, the youngest of the three sisters, was examining the fortifications in search of a weakness.

She lifted her head from the filthy slop long enough to witness one of the sows chewing on her beret, then lost consciousness.

What could have been a bone-crunching thud was instead a gurgling splat, as the mercenary plunged into a too-conveniently placed pig sty.

It was little consolation that at least she fell on the inside of the wall.

(Two pics today)

But just after she reached the top and relaxed for a second, she noticed the marbles under her feet. She tried to catch her balance, but her momentum coming up the wall had left her moving slightly forward.

With catlike precision, Carlotta scaled the walls, balanced on a buttress, and worked her way from one section of construction to another, using the variation in building styles as a foothold.

Carlotta, meanwhile, had walked around to the south, where she found a section of wall where walls of buildings were built into the defensive works.

The walls were higher here than in some other places, but the patchwork nature of the construction looked promising for climbing. “Well,” she said, cocking an eyebrow, “this looks like the place.”

Unable to stifle her curses, she climbed to her feet and inspected the damage to her pants.

The leaves had torn several places on the legs, but much of the backside had been torn, revealing her polka-dot panties.  She sighed and kept walking, looking for another way over the wall.

Trying to muffle a scream as the leaves tore at her skin and clothing, she landed unceremoniously on her backside in a holly bush.

About three quarters of the way up, she grabbed onto a stone that came loose, and lost her purchase, plummeting down the wall.

Carlotta followed the wall north of the gate, looking for weak spots.

Near a patch of holly bushes, she noticed a buttress in the wall with spaces large enough that she could get her hands and feet between the stones. She stretched her shoulders quickly, then started scaling the wall.

“OK, remember the plan,” Carlotta said.

Martine nodded. “We separate, each find our own way over or under the walls. Don’t get spotted. If one of us is scene, we retreat and try to get the villagers to give chase out of the city, making the job easier for the rest of us.” “Got it, but perhaps we shouldn’t have worn such bright clothes” Gretchen said. “Pishposh,”Carlotta responded, “We’re the famous sisters of Switzerland, nothing can stop us.”

With a nod, the three went to separate par...

While stealth operations usually took place in the dark, Carlotta and Martine had decided that they were in unfamiliar territory, and wanted to be able to see where they were going.

So they watched and waited, until the very-alert looking archer on watch was replaced by a town guard whose senses seemed less acute.

“Speaking of troops,” Auriane added, “I think I’ll hurry to the capital, tell them of our success, and beg for reinforcements.” Helena nodded, “Be careful. You can invoke my name, for what it’s worth, but it might not carry as much weight as you think. Most of them thought that I was a fool for leaving the walls of the capital.” Auriane departed, Broussard stood watch, Yvette and Helena planned and schemed, but the night passed without further event.