Friday, December 24, 2010

A Rare Find

The girl was short, maybe about five feet tall, and thin. Her tights showed long muscular legs and the fur lined jacket fitted her upper body well, showing well proportioned breasts.

Her face was unique; cute, very cute. But there was something old, experienced about it. Smooth and pretty, with a slightly upturned nose and good, kissable lips, and just a few freckles to round out the look. Silky blond hair shown as it flowed over her shoulders. But her eyes looked at him with a cruelty and anger that made him shudder.

Dave was glad she was tied up, hanging by her wrists from a rope that run up to a hook in the ceiling and then over to a clamp that held her dangling about a foot above the ground. Given her short stature, that meant her deep green eyes were staring directly into his as he decided what to do. He needed information, and fast.

"You understand its 1opm, right? I don't have much time to get the information I need, so if you would tell me quickly, we can let you down without any further trouble. But if you won't talk... well, I will be forced to take extreme measures." Dave was being honest, he didn't really want to hurt her, he would much rather fuck her. But first things first.

The girl swung slowly, her stockinged feat pointed down to the ground a few inches below her. She simply stared at Dave.

Dave sighed, and turned to the table holding his instruments. He took scissors and snipped off the buttons holding the girls coat in place. It fell open and her breasts plopped out as they were released from their restraint. Dave could not resist reaching out and cupping one of them. They were the best formed, firmest and yet softest breasts he had ever touched. The nipples were small and hard, as if already erect, though he knew she could not be aroused. Far from it.

With some more snips and cuts, the young girl's strange red, white and green clothing had been cut off and she hung naked. Dave stepped back and sucked in a breath. Stretched before him was the most perfect body he had ever seen. Muscular, thin, flat stomach, slight undulations of flesh over ribs. Her pussy was unshaved but the bush was light, smooth and lay flat, almost like a feathering of fur. Her breasts stood at attention, pulled high from her arms being distended in the high position above her head as she hung suspended.

Dave selected a long, heavy skewer with a sharp point. He didn't want to damage this perfect body, but he needed the location as quickly as possible. Showing her the skewer, he saw the first glimmer of apprehension in her eyes.

The point of the skewer entered the side of her left breast, and the girl screamed as Dave shoved hard to get it through and out the other side. Pressing her right breast in, the skewer pressed on and into that breast, penetrating and then exiting. The girl was kicking and jerking on her ropes, trying to get away, moaning and crying.

A second heavy, long needle penetrated, cutting into the flesh and then emerging from the other side, tearing holes in the sensitive breast tissue. The girl was struggling, still trying to get away from Dave as the third heavy skewer as it pierced her skin.

"Tell me the location." Dave asked simply. The girl shook her head vigorously, tears streaming down her cheeks. Dave was wondering what to do next when he noticed her ears. There, pointing out from her silvery blond hair were pointed ears. Rather than repulsing him, the deformity aroused him. He felt his cock grow hard in his pants and he stepped back again to survey the youthful, healthy form suspended before him.

"Oh... I hadn't realized... I should have. But I didn't get it." It all made sense to him now. The nubile beauty before him. What a catch!

"You are an elf!" Dave was grinning, happy with this exotic captured creature before him.

"Of course I am an elf, you moron! What did you think I was???" She had quite a bit of spunk.

Dave could not let this unusual opportunity pass. He unzipped his pants. The elf's eyes grew big and she started to whimper and cry. As Dave produced his erect member, the elf girl's face was a mask of fear. Dave positioned himself before the helpless girl, grabbed her legs and raised them to either side of his hips. With one thrust he was inside of her, feeling the folds of her pussy resisting and then spreading to allow his cock entry. She was like velvet inside, and he withdrew from his first thrust and then pushed again.

Each thrust brought another sob from the elf, who had stopped struggling. Blood trickled from her skewered breasts but it was obvious that it was her rape that was causing the most agony. Dave was transported into heaven as he felt the hard, lean body of the young girl slapping against his own as his cock pushed inside of her, again and again.

Faster than he had thought possible, he felt the sperm gathering inside of him and his muscles contracting to push it out. With a hard thrust that brought a scream from the helpless elf, he began spurting his cum inside of her cunt. Again and again he thrust, his hands grasping her ass, slamming her into him as his orgasm flooded his body.

When it was over, he let her legs hang down. She no longer struggled. His sperm was slowly oozing out and trickling down the inside of one of her legs. She looked completely broken.

Dave zipped up, exhausted but happy. It had been an amazing fuck. There was something about the elvish that made fucking the best. He turned to the table, and returned with another skewer, ready to begin plunging the sharp point into her abdomen.

"Where is it?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

"All right..." she was sobbing quietly, obviously broken completely. "You don't need that. I couldn't go back there now anyway. I simply ask you one favor."

"And what might that be?" Dave was curious.

"Kill me. Don't let me go. After I tell you, just kill me. I have nothing left." The gorgeous girl looked at him with a quiet pleading.

"Where is it?"

"It's... at the North Pole."

Dave smiled. He turned to go.

"Wait..." The dangling form of the naked girl called to him. "Please... end it for me? End it now."

Dave turned to her. "No... I don't think so. Thank you for the location; but I think you have another purpose now. I think I will need another fuck like that one again... and maybe again, and again... You will be here a while."

As Dave left the room the nubile form of the young girl was racked with sobs, as she realized that she would never leave that place, but was destined to a life as an elfin sex slave.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Spy: Magda 2

Magda sat in the dark, tied to the hard metal chair, unable to move. She sat in the dried urine that had pooled on the chair and covered her legs, forced from her by the sadistic interrogator, Claire. She was naked, and the concrete cell was cold.

She had no idea how long she had been there. The chair was far from an ideal place to sleep, its hard flat surfaces preventing any sort of comfort. She had dozed from exhaustion for a short while, but had primarily simply shaken from exposure and cold and fear.

With a sudden noise that sounded incredibly loud compared to the silence in which she had sat for the last several hours, the heavy metal door to the cell opened. Someone entered behind Magda, and turned on the lights, blinding her. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears pushed out and trickling down her cheeks.

Hands reached around her and felt her naked breasts gently. Cupping each breast, the hands moved across her nipples, squeezing gently, and then roamed down Magda's flat stomach and eventually between her legs. Tied securely to the chair, Magda was unable to close her legs. She squinted open her eyes, trying to become accustomed to light.

In front of her stood Claire, wearing a different uniform than the last time Magda had seen her. This one was more casual, though it also seemed to con

vey more of Claire's inherent sensuality. Magda watched her as she explored between Magda's legs, spreading and massaging the soft folds of flesh between them.

"Please... ma'am. May I have some water?" Magda was seriously dehydrated.

Claire stood and stepped back. "Sargent? The prisoner wants some water."

The squat, short haired sargent moved into view, dragging a short hose behind her. Standing directly in front of Magda, she pressed a handle on a valve at the end of the hose, and a strong stream of water sprayed out and struck Magda in the face. The water hit her with such a force that it kicked her head back, and she felt like she had been punched.

The stream of water pounded her face and up her nose, making her choke and gasp for air. As she opened her mouth to gasp, water filled it and entered her lungs with a searing pain that surprised Magda. She struggled to get control, to stop and get her breath. Finally the high powered stream of water slid down to pummel her breasts, then her stomach, and finally between her legs. Her vagina was filled with the water, forcing its way obscenely up inside of her.

At least she had regained the ability to breathe. Magda shook the water from her nose and hair and convulsed out a series of coughs, clearing her lungs of the water. She was dripping wet, and no closer to getting the drink she needed so desparately. The guard removed the hose and Claire stood smirking and observing Magda's body recovering from the watery blast.

"You know what a naked, wet body reminds me of?" Claire's smirk got larger. "Good electrical conductivity. Electrical contacts. Sound shocking? It is."

Claire left the room leaving Magda alone with the bulldyke. The hefty woman came over and leaned down next to Magda's face as they waited. She sniffed Magda's scent, moving around her neck and face. Unexpectedly, she produced a long tongue and licked Magda's face, with a slow, deliberate motion. The effect on Magda was profound; she began sobbing once again, and struggling in vain against the straps that held her to the chair.

"You need some distraction. Let's play!" Claire had reentered the room with a cart that held a box with dials and displays, as well as several curls of wires and other metal devices. The box was turned on, and dials were adjusted. A metal harness was attached to Magda's right ankle, and a cable ran from the harness to a clamp in the concrete floor to grou

nd the electrical current. Taking a long metal wand with a pointed tip, Claire bent over Magda's bound and struggling body.

"Now, tell me if this hurts, OK?" Claire moved the metal wand closer to Magda's breasts, and then slid the tip gently over the softness of her right breast. Magda let out a scream of agony. The electrical current surging through her body from the wand felt like a knife slicing into her flesh. Magda arched her back, muscles tensing involuntarily as she screamed. Her breasts pushed forward pertly, an unintended side effect of the strained posture brought on by the agony from the electrical current surging through her soft flesh.

"Hmmm. I think it does." Claire moved the wand to Magda's left breast and gently slid the wand across her breast, circling the sensitive nipple. Magda jerked and screamed once again, trying to struggle and get away from the cutting pain that sliced her breast and reverberated through her chest.

"AAaaaahahahaaaaaaaggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!" Magda's scream slowly cascaded down into a gurgle as she expelled all the air in her lungs. Claire moved the wand to Magda's flat stomach, which was pulsing in and out from painful gasps. The wand headed toward Magda's groin.

"No, no please, no NO NO!!! AAggghhhhh aaahhh aahhh aaahhhhhh!!!!!!" Magda's screams were becoming more urgent and her body tensed, back arched as the painful probe found more sensitive areas of her body. Slicing over her clit, the wand separated her pussy lips slightly and glided down her sweat soaked slit until it reached the chair.

Claire withdrew the wand, but while Magda's cries became quieter and less urgent, she continued to sob. Claire moved back to the cart and withdrew two heavy wires, one red and one black. They both had clamps on the end covered with bare copper wire, which Claire showed to Magda's fearful eyes.

Gently, almost kindly, Claire took hold of Magda's left nipple. With a slow but deliberate motion she pulled it out and then slid the bare-wired clamp in place. A few flicks of a screw and the clamp help the nipple tight. Magda looked down in fear at the new attachment.

The second clamp brought a terrible realization to Magda. One red, one black wire. Her nipples were being wired for electrocution. The pain from the clamps would be nothing compared to what was coming, and the clamps hurt, bad. She continued sobbing from pain and humiliation as Claire continued to tighten the clamps in place.

"Please, please. I will tell you anything you want to know. I am a spy. I admit it. I am willing to confess all. Please, just don't kill me with that thing!" Magda's beautiful face looked up at Claire as she wriggled and strained. Jerking back and forth did nothing to dislodge the clamps on her nipples.

"That is quite all right, my dear," Claire said quietly. "As I already explained, we know you are a spy. And we don't really care to hear your confession or any other information you might have. This isn't really an interrogation. Let's call it more of a reconning, shall we?"

With this, Claire wedged open Magda's mouth with a some tongs and grasped the tongue piercing inside. Pulling hard, she managed to get Magda's tongue to extend a good two inches out of her mouth. Moments later a large wired clamp had been placed on Magda's tongue, behind her tongue stud. Magda swore to herself, wondering why she had been so vain as to pierce herself there. She was going to pay for it now.

Claire moved over to the machine and took one more instrument which had a heavy wire running from it. The instrument was long and round, and as she approached the naked form of Magda it became clear that the instrument was a metal probe of some sort, rounded at the end. Claire knelt between Magda's spread legs, forcing them apart slightly more to expose soft folds of pussy. The instrument wriggled between the folds of flesh, and Magda whimpered as she felt the artificial phallus slowly spreading and pushing inside. It pushed deeper and deeper, until she thought it would penetrate into her womb and destroy her internal organs.

Once it was secure inside, Magda was wired in four places on her body. Each nipple was squeezed with wired clamps. Her tongue protruded, clamped with wired rollers that were turning her tongue purple before the electrical torture even began. And of course, her pussy, with a rather large metal dildo shoved deep inside. Magda sobbed quietly, waiting for the machine to be turned on. She keened one word over and over, distorted by her tongue gagging her mouth, "please... please... please..." though if anyone had listened to her it would have sounded more like "theeth... theeth... theeth...".

"Let's turn it on." Claire smiled and looked at her helpless prisoner as she reached down and flipped a switch. Lights on the box came on. She pushed a button, and was greeted with an immediate scream from Magda, whose muscles clenched in an involuntary convulsion as a surge of pain ripped from her tongue, down her body to her pussy.

"Aaaaaaaaaaahhfhfhhhgggmmmmmmmpppppghhhhhhhh!!!!" The scream went on until there was no more air left in Magda's lungs. Claire let go of the button and Magda's muscles relaxed. She fell slack and panted, trying to get her breathing back under control.

Claire moved to Magda's agonized face and stroked her fingertips along her prisoner's cheek. "My dear... you are so beautiful in pain..."

Magda's scream sliced through the air and echoed off the concrete walls of the cell as another button was pushed. This one sliced pain from one nipple to the other, crossing her chest. She shook, her breasts wobbling, but she was unable to move far. After one scream was done and she was able to rest and recover a moment, another jolt would reach into her and extract a new scream of agony.

Her body was sweating profusely from the pain which racked her body. Magda was thinking of nothing but the pain, and when it would end or begin again. She was bleeding from the mouth and hands, where she had bitten her tongue and her fists had twisted and torn the flesh where the ropes held her wrists to the chair.

"Well then. I think we are doing quite well! I know this cell gets boring while we are gone, and this setup may provide you with some distraction until our next session! It will deliver random jolts of this rather painful current from time to time. Enjoy now!" Claire kissed Magda on the lips, softly and sensually, and then left the cell. The door clanging shut behind her seemed to seal her fate. The light turned off and she was in the dark, waiting for the next agonizing jolt.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Spy: Magda 1

With a sudden shove from behind, Magda tripped and fell onto the concrete floor of her new cell. The cold floor was unyielding as she lay on it, arms behind her back and legs twisted in an awkward position from her fall. Footsteps sounded next to her and with a quick yank the hood was untied and removed from her head.

She raised her head slightly to look around at the first things she had been able to see in several hours,

since she had been arrested by the Pfizer Polizei. They had surprised her as she left the bank, throwing her against the wall, frisking her and then cuffing her. Her head had been hooded before she could get a good look at her captors, but it was clear she was under arrest and they knew she was a spy.

The door clanked shut behind her. She rolled over slowly, wrists still cuffed behind her. With some effort she sat up and pushed herself over to a wall where she leaned back and took a deep breath. Magda checked herself for blood (there was a little on the front of her blouse) and other damage (none, except that her skirt was torn slightly).

The dim light of the cell made it difficult to see anything. What little light there was came from cracks under the door, and around a small window opening in the center of the door that had a poorly fitting cover. The walls were a cold concrete as well as the floor, and the only variation to the flat empty expanse appeared to be some metal fixtures positioned in the wall at regular intervals. The ceiling was dark. There was no window.

Magda knew that she was in the bowels of some prison from which people seldom returned. She had been caught, how she didn't know but she knew she had little chance of escape unless someone came for her or arranged it. Fear was running through her body, and combined with the cold air, she was shaking like a leaf.

Without warning a light came on above her. A single light behind and iron grill illuminated the stark interior of the cell. Her eyes were unaccustomed to light and perceived it as a searing brightness. She squeezed them shut just as the bolt on the door slid heavily. When it opened, two female guards stepped into the room and shut the door behind them. They lifted Magda off the ground and stood her in the center of the empty room, directly under the light.

"Remove your clothing," the taller guard stated in a heavy accent. Magda stared at her in disbelief.

"Remove your clothing or we will do it for you," the guard repeated with a tired sound, as if she was hoping for simple cooperation and wished no trouble. She held a short club in her hands. Magda looked at it for a moment, and began unbuttoning her blouse.

Magda removed her blouse first, and then slipped out of her skirt. She had lost her shoes in a brief struggle early in the day, and had no coat. She stood in her panties and bra, feeling exposed and vulnerable before the two guards.

"Remove. Your. Clothes." The female guard raised her club slightly as she spoke with a no-nonsense sneer. It was clear that Magda was to be completely naked. She removed her bra, and her large breasts slid free and bounced slightly before becoming still. The cold made her nipples hard and Magda blushed.

Hooking her fingers under the

edge of her panties, she pulled down and stepped out of them. She added them to the pile of other clothes that rested on the floor next to her, and stood naked before the two guards, trying to act defiant in spite of her nudity. She became extremely aware of her hard nipples and the bush between her legs, which was normally shaved but now had a weeks growth of dark hair coloring her groin. One hand instinctively went to cover herself.

The other guard picked up the clothes and then reached for Magda's watch. She removed it from her wrist, and then took the two diamond stud earrings from Magda's ears. After removing the thin gold chain with pendant that hung around Magda's neck, both guards turned and exited the cell. Magda was left alone, naked and shivering in the cold under the single bright light above her. She stood for a while, and eventually went to the back of the cell and sat on the floor, once again leaning on the concrete wall. The floor and wall were freezing cold against her bare skin.

She had to pee. There were no facilities in this cell; it obviously was designed as a temporary holding or interrogation cell. She had needed to

pee for a couple of hours, and her distended bladder was getting painful. She sat and contemplated her fate, what little of it she knew.

She had just decided to go ahead and let her urine loose on the floor of the cell, and was contemplating which corner was the best location when the door opened once again and two different women entered. After they closed the door behind them, the rasping sound of the bolt sliding back into place informed her she was locked in with the two newcomers.

The first woman that had entered was a tall, slim, austere civilian of about 35. Her brown hair was tied back in a short pony tail, and she wore black slacks, running shoes, a sharply pressed blue shirt, and a leather jacket to keep her warm. She was a statuesque woman, standing over six feet.

The second woman that entered was a short, squat, muscular bulldyke wearing a guards uniform, though it had some additional decorations which implied she had some sort of status or rank. She stood dispassionately behind the civilian woman.

When they entered, they had brought one chair with them. It was a heavy metal chair and was placed just in front of the door. The civilian woman sat down in it. Magda could not help but think how tall she looked even sitting in the chair, and how beautiful she was. Magda herself was a shapely, young and athletic girl. But this civilian had an air of power and command that radiated from her looks, stride, actions, and aura.

"Magda. Come, stand before me so we can talk. No need to cower in the corner like this." The civilian woman spoke in a pleasant, though commanding voice. Magda rose and walked to stand in front of the woman, agonizingly aware of her nudity and trying the very best she could not to show her humiliation. Nevertheless she was shaking with cold and fear as she stood under the light.

"My name is Colonel Mazy, but you may call me Claire. And you are... Magda... Belsen, I believe. Is that right Magda?" Claire took out a cigarette and lit it as she spoke. She took a long drag from it and let out a stream of smoke in Magda's direction.

"My name is Magda, yes. I don't understand, please. Where am I, what is going on? What have I done? Can I contact my embassy? Do I get a phone call? May I... go to the restroom? I really need to pee." The spy was trying to pull off the innocent tourist cover as best she could. She wondered how long she could keep it up. The pain in her bladder was becoming insistent and severe.

"Magda, I had hoped we could have a productive and cooperative business relationship, two professionals together. I know who you are, and you at least know what I am, if not who I am. As for the need to pee... please do. If you will not cooperate with me, I don't know why I should let you leave this room." The woman gestured to the floor, indicating that Magda was free to squat and relieve herself in front of the two officials.

Magda was horrified at the idea. It was bad enough being forced to stand naked in front of these two women; she would not demean herself by squatting and urinating on a floor in front of them. She simply stood and stared at them, and then lowered her eyes, observing her own nakedness, nipples hard, large breasts wobbling slightly as she shivered, one hand in front of her pussy, trying to cover herself and keep a shred of dignity.

"Very well, to show you that I am not completely without mercy, let me help you." Claire turned to the guard and spoke rapidly in a foreign language. The bulldyke smiled slightly and then knocked on the door to be let out. Moments later she returned, and had a number of items with her.

Claire rose, and took hold of Magda's upper arm. Her hand was smooth but gripped her tightly. She guided Magda to the chair and pushed her down. The metal chair was cold and made Magda shiver a little. The very straight back and seat were uncomfortable. She crossed her legs, partly for modesty's sake, to hide her exposed female genitalia, and partly to help keep her urine inside.

Rope slipped over and tightened just under her breasts, lifting them slightly, as the bulldyke guard began tieing Magda to the heavy chair. Several loops secured her to the straight back, and the rope also looped around her wrists to secure her arms to the back, pointing straight down at her sides. A separate bit of rope was used to tie Magda's ankles to the chair legs. The dyke checked all the ropes to make sure that Magda was secure, and then stepped back.

"So, Magda. I understand you need to urinate, and you shall." Claire was standing behind Magda, leaning over so that her hair slid over Magda's bare shoulder. "Please try to cooperate at least in this small thing. Urinate my dear... here, now. Pee on your legs, sit in a puddle of your own urine, do it now. The pain will only become greater, you know."

Magda was shaking, her naked body freezing cold and exposed. The metal chair held her in position, seated with her legs slightly spread. Her full bladder was hurting sharply, but she now realized she couldn't let herself go even had she wanted to; her ingrained social training prohibited her from exposing her body functions in front of others. She shook and began to cry softly, as the pain in her bladder stabbed from within.

"My dear," Claire's voice was soft, almost sensual. "I feel your discomfort and wish to help you. Honestly, I am on your side. Let me help you."

Claire's long arms reached around Magda's naked form from the back, and her hands touched her breasts. Her fingers stretched wide, feeling Magda's soft flesh, and then her hands traveled slowly down from the breasts to the stomach, feeling the movement of Magda's sobs before descending to her lower abdomen, over the bladder.

There, Claire's hands stopped for a moment, fingers spread, feeling the taught hardness of the over-full bladder beneath the flesh. Then, gently and firmly, Claire began to press in on Magda's bladder. "Ohhh OOOHhhhhhhhh please, please.. no... owwwwww...." Magda started to cry and beg as Claire's fingers pressed and moved about, pushing and compressing the painful bladder.

All at once, a stream of urine shot from between Magda's legs, covering her inner thighs and splattering onto the floor in front of her. Magda twisted her head sideways suddenly, closing her eyes as if to pretend that this horrible humiliation was not happening. The stream continued, but slowed, increasing the spread and splatter of urine over Magda's legs, and then finally creating a huge puddle of noxious liquid on the seat of the chair. Magda could feel the wetness slowly expanding and covering her ass.

As the stream of hot liquid slowed and stopped, Claire removed her hands from Magda's abdomen. She moved to Magda's side and placed her hand under the spy's chin to lift her face to her own. Magda looked into the soft, concerned eyes of Claire, still crying with humiliation though the bladder pain was now gone.

"You see, Magda? Things are different in this room. This is your world now, the concrete walls, the light, the door, and sometimes even the chair. You need me to help you adapt. Perhaps you are thinking that I want some sort of information from you? Oh, no, my dearest Magda... nothing could be further from the truth. I really don't care about your information."

Claire stepped away for a moment, and surveyed the scene. Magda sat in the metal chair, arms tied to the sides, legs spread and tied to the legs. Her body shook as she sobbed, and breathed in short gasps. Urine was splattered everywhere in front of her, including her ass and legs. She looked pitiful, vulnerable, open...

But not yet. Claire was not done with Magda yet. Oh no... there was much to come. With a sharp word, the bulldyke and Claire left the room, leaving Magda tied to the chair. The light was turned off, plunging the room into darkness and leaving only the stench of urine mixed with the smell of sweat and fear as Magda sobbed, wondering what was to come.

Monday, September 20, 2010


Nala was a beautiful woman. This was unusual in the area of her village; because of poverty, disease, poor nutrition and the ravages of battles with the neighboring marauders, most people were not that lucky. But Nala had smooth skin, breasts that stood high and pointed out, an oval face that smiled with no blemishes but the few freckles she bore. Her slim body shape had a healthy and energetic look and her long brown hair was smooth and shiny.

In other words, she didn’t fit in. All the men wanted her, and all the women hated her. Most people were suspicious of her good looks. She should have had the gaunt, starved look of despair so common throughout the region.

It came as little surprise when she was caught sneaking out of the village one night, and followed to a deserted hut in a canyon nearby. There she was seen to rendevouz with a soldier, a leader of the enemy that had inflicted such damage to the region. When the men of the village burst into the hut, Nala was naked and had her legs around the the soldier’s hips as he frantically shoved himself inside of her. He was roughly pulled off, just as his cock began spurting and his white semen spread over her stomach and legs. In fact, it was still spurting as his head was separated from his body and rolled on the floor, blinking in a bewildered way.

The men lifted Nala’s shaking and naked form from the floor as they observed the scene. The soldier had brought her food, some clothing and a little item of jewelry in payment for her attentions. It wasn’t clear whether she had feelings for him, and it didn’t matter. She was a traitor, and there was a special way they dealt with traitors in this village.

Nala was taken back to the village, naked as they had found her. She was chained to a post near the well in the central square and a guard was posted. The next morning, news of what had happened flooded the village and dozens of people came to look at the naked form of the beautiful woman huddled next to the well. Some of the women threw rocks at her, but this practice was stopped almost immediately. The men wanted her body in good shape for what they had in mind.

In fact, it was the men that came to gape at the nude woman. She did her best to cover herself with her hands and arms, but the shape of her breasts was seen clearly, and the sight of her ass and an ocassional glimpse of her pussy were worth waiting for. The teenage boys spent a good part of the day looking at her quivering flesh, getting a good view of the naturally beautiful body.

Late in the day, several men came to Nala and lifted her up, unchaining her. Many in the village came to see what was going on as the men leaned her over the edge of the well and tied her wrists behind her back securely. She resisted only slightly, as the strength of the men was far beyond her capability to fight.

With one man on each side of her, Nala was led from the central town square and out of the village on the main road. Many villagers, men, women and youngsters, came to see the naked woman led down the dirt road as she was forced to march. When they reached the edge of town it finally dawned on the woman what fate was in store for her. She began to struggle and resists, but the men simply began dragging her into the barren spot just out of town in which no plants grew.

In the middle of this area was a heavy post, about four feet high. The old wood was embedded deep in the ground and stood straight up, ending in a smoothed, rounded top. Years of blood spilled and soaked into the wood had turned it black, and the ground around it was oily and hard.

Nala saw the post and began struggling hysterically. She attempted to tear away from the men that held her arms, twisting and writhing viciously in a last attempt to save herself. It availed nothing, and moments later she stood before the post, observing it closely for the first time.

It was about 3 inched thick. While very straight, there were a few knobs or depressions on its surface. These were smoothed from years of wear, and there were no splinters or rough spots.

The end was not pointed. Instead it was smoothed and rounded; this was both intentional and a byproduct of the posts use over the years. It had worn down this way, but it was also desirable to those that used it as an execution device. The rounded end meant it would not immediately pierce through the victim. Rather, it would slowly push its way deeper and deeper, prolonging the death and the agony.

Nala stood sobbing before the instrument of her torture. The villagers had all come out to watch her impalement, and surrounded the post at a respectful distance. Already standing stripped and unprotected before the impaling pole, there was little standing in the way of Nala’s execution.

Two men stepped forward and wrapped their arms around Nala’s legs, getting a firm grasp. She wriggled, trying to get free, and sobbed loudly, calling to the villagers around her for mercy. Instead, her legs were spread slightly by the men and a third man wrapped arms around her waist from behind, also obtaining a firm grip on her from which she could not escape. With a coordinated effort, the three men lifted Nala off the ground and raised her above the post, positioning her legs on either side, ready for impalement.

A fourth man stepped forward, and guided the condemned woman’s body just over the post. Using all the fingers of both hands, he reached to spread Nala’s pussy wide. She screamed as she felt his fingers dig deeply into her, spreading the opening to her vagina wide, stretching the flesh.

The tip of the post was placed just at the entrance to her spread vagina. With a slow, practiced motion, her body was lowered so that the post forced its way into her deeper and deeper. Each inch of post distended more flesh, causing more screams of agony from Nala as she felt the post invade her more and more deeply.

Then with an unexpected suddenness, the men let go of Nala’s body. No longer supported, her body plunged down upon the post, which sank deep inside her. Her legs kicked and body writhed as she screamed in pain, face lifted into the afternoon sun. The writhing moved her body on the stake, which inched its way deeper into her body, pressing and compressing her womb, and finally tearing through into her bowels. The more she writhed, the more the stake dug into her and the more firmly she was affixed on the stake.

Blood streamed down from between her legs, making the stake slipperier. Nala’s strong legs slowed their wild kicking and instead attempted to wrap themselves around the post, her feet moving to lift her body higher. The blood made this impossible for while her feet grasped and slipped on the stake they were unable to make any difference in lifting the poor girls weight and relieving the penetration which was slowly making its way through her bowels.

The villagers gathered around to watch the girl’s death throws as she writhed on the stake, thus slowly impaling herself. Her hands were still tied behind her back, but otherwise she was free to move in whatever limited way she could, and she cried out for mercy to the people that watched her struggles. No mercy was given; her writhing body was a source of vouyeuristic pleasure to many of the villagers, especially the men. Seeing Nala’s perfect body stuck on the pole, raised above the crowd as she struggled and writhed, was a delight to a number of the younger men who surrounded her closely to observe every aspect of her pain. Her breasts bounced, legs quivered from strain, and stomach expanded and contracted rapidly as she panted in agony.

Her movement slowed even further. Nala’s sweaty skin glistened in the setting sun. Her legs found a position on the stake which did not raise her up, but kept her from moving so much so that the wood inside her would not burrow deeper into her body. All knew that this was foolish on her part. A brave and practical soul who accepted their fate would writhe and wriggle to drive the stake as deeply as possible so as to bring on death.

Perhaps Nala still believed she might survive the impalement. Perhaps she simply reacted instictively to hold on to life to the bitter end. Whatever the reason, she had stopped the burrowing stake from penetrating her diaphram and tearing her heart or lungs. If she continued, she would die of sepsis, dehydration and exposure over the next several days instead of in just a few minutes.

The sun set and Nala sat on her stake of torture; some young men of the village remained to watch and observe. Her knees were spread wide, feet pressed against the wood pole. Her head hung down, hair covering her shoulders and breasts, though her nipples and shapely underside of her breasts could still be seen. She breathed in pain-filled gasps, because drawing a breath required use of her diaphram which in turn pressed against the stake which was trying to dig through to her chest cavity.

Darkness fell, and all but a handful of young men had departed. The remaining men drank and observed Nala closely as she suffered. Some of them masturbated to the sight. Others actually approached the agonized woman and touched her, exploring where the wide pole entered her body, and feeling her stomach where the ruined intestines and wood stake could be felt.

Still Nala sat on the pole, and finally all the villagers were gone. Nala was left to suffer, sitting on the impalement, in the dark.

Early the next morning, the villagers were awakened by a muffled scream that ended in a gurgle. Several of them went to the clearing to see. Nala was almost motionless on the stake, her chest and breasts bloodied. Her legs hung limp below her. There was some tiny movement of breathing, but very few other signs of life. Raising her head and pushing straggled hair back, it was observed that the stake had worked its way through her chest and was bulging out of her shoulder. It must have taken all night and had somehow failed to do significant damage to the vital organs, for while she was very weak, she was still breathing with a strained gurgle.

Several of the villagers stood watch during the day, and it was reported that breathing stopped at about noon. Her body was left on the stake and rotted there over the next several weeks as a warning to those that would betray the village.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Inquisition: Trial by Water

In the small village of Hamlen, I was privy to participating in the oldest and one of the most relied upon forms of test to determine the guilt or innocence of witches. Clearly, witches are different creatures than humans, having been invaded and changed by the devil, as well as being under the protection of Satan himself.

Examination for the mark is one of the basic requirements before any accused witch is forced to recant, or when unwilling, purified by torture or fire. Such examination took place in Hamlen. There were three accused witches, who were brought to the town hall. Standing in the center of the hall, the local magistrate demanded that they be examined for the mark of the devil. I assisted, as I am well versed in the examination process.

The youngest of the girls (named Isabel) was brought forward, and her bodice torn from her body, revealing perfect, young breasts and smooth white skin. Her hair was long and fiery red, unusually so, and looked exotic. This placed her under greater suspicion than the others. We proceeded with our examination, looking for the defect or branding of evil that would appear on her flesh. A testing fork was produced, a sharp instrument that could be thrust into the flesh to determine if there was numbness.

I found a slight discoloring under her left breast, and slid the fork under the rounded softness, pressing up hard. The fork sunk into the base of her breast and the witch screamed. Blood tricked down her stomach when I removed the tines from that breast. Repeating the action on the other breast produced the same reaction. She could have been faking, but the look of agony on the girl’s face seemed genuine.

Isabel’s remarkably fair skin contained no other visible marks, and so we removed her skirt and underclothes, revealing the beautiful slight body of a girl, thin and yet with the gentle curves that marked her maturity. Examination of every crook and fold of flesh continued, and the girl began to sob as our hands invaded her most private areas. Two men held her legs apart, and another two held her arms, exposing her so that we could gain access without restriction.

At last we found the hidden mark, or so I believed. Spreading her ass cheeks apart, there was a distinct discoloring between them. Pressing the sharp fork against the darker flesh produced only a small reaction from the sobbing girl, who had been crying out for mercy and protesting her innocence.

Based on this evidence, it was determined that Isabel, along with the other two witches, would be put to the final test of water.

The next morning we gathered by the riverside, where a small dock extended out into the gently flowing greenish water. The three women stood, clearly frightened, chained together. A crowd from the town had gathered to watch the trial. Nearly everyone was present. A few people stood on in horror, and were easily identified as supporters of the witches. I remembered their faces carefully, so that they should be examined later. The remaining people were interested, even excited about the process which was to be used.

At my signal, all three women were pulled forward to the dock. Their clothes were torn from their bodies, leaving them exposed. Two of the women shivered and tried to cover themselves. The remaining one, Isabel, stood defiant and unwilling to face the reality of her position. All three of the women were young, and the crowd murmured in appreciation. One of the women cast a spell, as I felt arousal and the seductive power of the witch in my loins.

I personally took Isabel and forced her to sit on the dock, and then quickly tied her hands to her feet, crossing them so that the right hand was affixed to the left foot, and vice-versa. In this way she was tied with her knees up pressing into her chest, and her body curled somewhat into the shape of a ball. The other two women were tied in a similar manner.

The process of tying was slow, and for nearly half an hour the naked women sat on the dock while the townsfolk observed, and made taunting remarks and rude noises. It was humiliating for them, which was the intent of the crowd. One woman cried quietly, Isabel sat calmly with her head down between her knees. The third woman fainted briefly and fell over on her side, exposing her private areas for all to see. This caused a stir in the crown, and some men tried to move forward for a better look, but were held back by the guards.

The hot sun was increasing, the slow moving water seemed to anticipate and wait for the immersion of the women. It was time. The girl who had fainted was now conscious and was picked up by myself and a guard. My hand slipped under her thigh and into her quim, a most delightful sensation. We hauled her to the side of the dock, and struggles began. She screamed hysterically, panicking and struggling mindlessly. One of the other women cried and plead for mercy as we swung the tightly bound woman back and forth, and then released her. She flew over the water and landed with a huge splash.

The woman’s body sunk below the surface of the roiling water. Bubbles arose as the surface calmed. The crowd cheered at first, but quickly became silent as we waiting for the results of the trial. The only thing heard was the sobbing of one of the two remaining women. After a few moments, a white body was seen just below the surface of the water. As it surfaced, we saw it was the woman’s backside, which lifted above the water and then rolled slightly so that the woman’s back was exposed. The woman’s long hair floated around her head, and some weak struggling was seen. The body shuddered and moved slightly, as she tried to breathe.

After a minute the body grew still. It had floated about 10 yards downriver; as it came closer to the side of the river, several guards fished her out and dragged her motionless form onto the bank. We gathered around her body, and saw immediately the blank stare and motionless chest which indicated she had not survived the trial by water. Everyone present crossed themselves, as this unfortunate woman had just been found not guilty of being a witch. We hoped for her better afterlife.

Returning to the pier, we selected one of the remaining women for the next trial. I selected the woman who had been crying earlier, saving Isabel for the last. Isabel was most beautiful, someone that I admit, I had trouble disposing of so quickly. I wanted to continue my gaze on her beauty for just a while more.

The other woman screamed and writhed as we dragged her to the edge of the dock. I could smell and see that she had lost control of her body from fear as we dragged her. Once again we lifted, my fingers discreetly exploring her privates, and then swung her back and forth, ending with a sudden fling which caused her to fly several feet into the center of the river, and then plunge below.

She resurfaced almost immediately. Her legs and arms, tied together rose first, and then her backside, exposing her womanhood to view once again. Her flesh shown shiny as it was displayed by the bright and hot sun. We waited, breathlessly anticipating the results of the trial. The woman’s head and face tipped up and rose above the water’s surface. With a huge rasping gasp, the woman breathed in before her body rolled over and her face was covered by water once again.

Her struggles were vigorous. Just when we thought her convulsive movements were diminishing and that she would succumb, some twitch would allow her face to be exposed for a moment and she would cough out water and gulp in air. This went on for several minutes, and several yards down river. Finally, the woman bumped into a sand bar and she lay motionless, her face barely above water, rasping from lungs half filled with water.

We gathered around. She was alive, and clearly guilty of being a witch. She was dragged out, her limp but breathing form untied and then placed in heavy chains.

It was time for Isabel. She was still silent, but wore a pleading look on her face as she observed us approaching. Her defiance had left, though she was still trying to be strong. Perhaps as the youngest of the three, she had never seen what happens to witches, and was horrified at this aspect of the search for the guilty.

Leaning down, I caressed her naked breasts for a moment before lifting her chin to make her look at me. I spoke to her in the soft but commanding manner of judge, and encouraged her to confess. If she were to confess, it would go much easier on her, but she was defiant. With a slow but deliberate motion, she shook her head, refusing to cooperate.

I had wanted to save her. If I could have saved her I would have. Her lovely, youthful face, perfect muscular body, shiny dark hair should not be discarded like this. It was a sin in itself to die as she was choosing to die. I could have given her a good, although rather short, life if she were to have confessed.

Instead, we lifted her and carried her to the edge of the dock. Just as we began swinging her back and forth, she lost control and began to wriggle and scream. It lasted but a moment, for this was just as we released her and she sailed across the water and then plunged beneath.

She rose immediately, spreading her arms and legs as far apart as possible. This kept her head facing up, and she gasped for air as the ripples of water on the surface splashed over her lovely face. At times drowning as she inhaled the water that covered her face, she always seemed to recover, expel the liquid from her lungs in many coughs and breathe for a moment before going below again. In this manner she continued for 20 or 30 yards down the river. We followed, keeping townspeople back, and watching carefully. Her strength was failing, it was clear, but she continued to fight. It began to appear that in spite of her valiant struggles, that she would succumb and die from weakness.

It was not to be. Just as it appeared she had no strength left, she reached a point in the river where a stream joined, and the water flowing from the quick stream pushed her body to the side of the river. She bumped against the rocky shore and came to a rest with her head above water, coughing and convulsing, and finally breathing.

We gathered around her. Even with her body shiny with water and convulsing with the need for air to breathe, she seemed to me to be the most lovely young girl I have ever seen. At this point I realized this girl had bewitched me from the very beginning with her sexual attraction, attempting to misdirect and manipulate my mind. Only through my own mental strength had I been able to carry out my duties.

That evening the two women that had failed the test were burned at the stake. The screams of Isabel as she slowly roasted and then turned black disturbed me. Both because I felt the lingering affect of her spell, and because she truly was a beautiful woman. It was sad, and a waste, that she had chosen this path for her life and death.

Friday, August 27, 2010

Inquisition: A Discrete Death

The king had ordered it. She was to be tortured. Not interrogated, but tortured until the life escaped from her body and she was no more. Not really something I did most of the time. I interrogated, squeezing information from unwilling witnesses, heretics, and foul witches. Simple execution... this was not my area, unless the expiration of the condemned as part of the interrogation and punishment consequent to heinous charges of witchery.

This was special, though. The king had ordered she be tortured to death secretly, but that she could not appear to be tortured. Imprisoned, yes. Some damage always occurs with imprisonment, it is the nature of incarceration. But tortured, consistently and prolonged, unto death but to show no signs of this torture... this was not something for just any jail keeper.

And so I was called.

Preparations were to my specification, in a tower of castle which the king visited on occasion when hunting. She had been brought there a week earlier, awaiting her fate, and was chained in a dungeon below the foundations of the castle chapel. Why the tower then? Because the king wanted to hear her screams...

Whatever villainy the woman had committed to make her so reviled by the royalty, I never learned. She was of good family, perhaps royalty herself. A fine young woman, clearly of good blood. When she was brought in to me she stood tall, unusually tall and thin, in fact. Her face had fine features, with large dark almond shaped eyes that looked at the tower room and the preparations which awaited her. Long black hair descended past her shoulders, surrounding her youthful round face which showed signs of freckles which increased the illusion of her young age.

Her skin was light, in spite of her dark hair and eyes, and smooth. No scars could be seen save for the red abrasions from the shackles which still held her restrained. Her breasts, which were bare (her bodice had been removed at some point during her previous imprisonment, perhaps for humiliation or other purpose), were well formed, fairly large but did not descend in a sag at all.

A melancholy look of acceptance appeared on her face. She knew, or at least suspected, that she was in her last hours on this earth. The guards treated her with respect, perhaps because they knew who she was, or perhaps simply because of the elegant, regal air which surrounded her person. She faced me, and spoke.

"Are you then, to be the instrument of my death?"

"No, though I shall wield the instruments," I replied plainly.

"Is it to be painful, then?"

"Yes. It the king has ordered that it is to be painful, and... prolonged," there was no reason to hide the truth from her. She would know it in very intimate terms in just a few minutes.

"We had better get to it then." She looked me in the eyes, not in an accusing way but with a silent plea for a merciful and quick death. After meeting my gaze, her eyes traveled over the contents of the room.

"Tie her," I said to the guards. Her shackles were removed and ropes bound her wrists firmly. With a quick, merciless motion, her body was dragged to a pedestal that stood in the center of the room. The pedestal supported her back, but her head and arms hung over the end. Her long hair descended almost to the floor. Pulling her arms apart, her wrists were tied to rings in the wall.

Next, the woman's ankles were bound and the ropes in turn tied to metal rings in the wall, lifting and separating the legs. I ordered the ropes pulled taught, so the woman would be capable of minimal motion during the procedure. As they were tightened, the woman grunted and cried out from the initial pain of her body's distension.

When the woman's body was spread thus, with her back supported by the pedestal, her skirt was removed by cutting the cloth. It fell away, revealing the flat stomach of a woman who had never given birth, and the dark hair which covered her private parts, no longer private. Stretched as she was, she looked more lovely to me than any other woman I had seen. I was sorely tempted to take her for my own, to insert myself and have my way with her, but the knowledge that somewhere across the courtyard the king awaited her screams reminded me that this was no simple witch.

I checked the instruments, several long iron spikes which were heating in a fire which blazed in the corner of the room. It was cool outside, but not cool enough to justify the flames in the stone orifice and the heat had made the room oppressive. I was sweating, as were the guards. But the fire was necessary, as the iron would slowly retain the heat from the fire, and quickly disperse it into the young woman's body. For this reason, a hot fire and several implements were required.

The smell of hot metal is unmistakable. It is typical to only two places in the world; the blacksmith's forge, and the torturer's chamber. I pulled one of the iron rods from the fire, and examined its glowing red tip, which extended a good 6 inches down its length. A slight bit of smoke drifted up from the spike, not from the iron of course but from bits of wood that clung to its surface.

Bringing the red hot metal to the other side of the room, I stood in front of the woman's inverted face, allowing her to observe the instrument of her yet to be endured agony. She stared at it momentarily, aware of what it was. Sweat trickled down her neck, and with a shudder, she squeezed her eyes shut. Tears were pressed from the corners of her eyes, and trickled down her cheeks and disappeared in her black hair which hung below her inverted face. Her naked breasts heaved up and then descended as she sobbed out loud.

I moved to the other end of her taughtly stretched body, and between her spread legs. With one hand I took the fleshy folds of her womanhood and spread them apart. She sucked in air and held it, anticipating the onset of pain. Holding the heated spike in my other hand, I carefully positioned it pointing toward her exposed sex and then slowly slid it inside of her about two inches.

At first touch of the searing hot metal her entire body tensed, as if to control and suppress the pain that had suddenly formed just inside her. Then, as her sensitive internal flesh began to smoke and burn, her screams began. Abruptly, she expelled every bit of air in her lungs in a long, drawn out, horrific scream of agony which did not cease until she had no breath left in her. Even then, her stomach and chest remained tightened as her scream continued, though without air to push through her throat it came out as a small gurlge. Finally, she inhaled a single large breath and screamed again, moving to quick inhilations of air and long cries which echoed against the stone walls of the tower chamber.

The glowing hot iron slid slowly deeper inside her, three inches, four inches, five, and finally it was half a foot inside her. Her screams ceased only momentarily so that she could take in more breath to scream more. The muscles in her body were tight, straining against the ropes that held her secure and allowed little movement. But the screaming agony in her body as the iron seared away flesh and sunk into new fresh flesh to burn was enough to give her strength that stretched the ropes. She did move, thrashing about between her restraints, and as a result the red hot iron did not simply burn her inside womb, but pierced and tore her apart as she writhed.

After a few minutes, I withdrew the iron. It was no longer glowing, having transfered much of its heat to the young woman's body. Her screams continued with reduced intensity, and mixed with sobs. The iron was placed back in the fire to heat and use as needed as the day progressed. A new iron was withdrawn. This one was hotter, the reddish glow brighter and lighter. The smell of the near molten metal permeated the room as I brought it over to the woman's shaking body.

The poor girl's buttocks were clenching and unclenching rapidly as she convulsed. Using a short piece of kindling wood, I wedged her buttocks apart slowly, and then propped the wood to stretch them wide, exposing her anus. In this way I prepared her other orifice for insertion of the white hot spike. As it touched her anus, a smoke rose and there was the sound of sizzling before her screams renewed once again to cover the noise of her fleshly destruction. The brand slid in relatively easily, though the flesh burned and stuck to the metal inside her, it also separated and tore apart, affording the ability to continue the slow and unrelenting insertion.

The young woman looked lovely, suspended as she was. The soft curves of her body were in no way disturbed by the searing pain except to show her good muscles as she writhed. Her breasts intact, even her lovely womanhood showed very little signed of the ravagement which was taking place. Her stomach rose and fell with her gasps and screams, inspiring the lust in my loins.

This rod was inserted into her rectum for a distance of about 18 inches, searing the inside of her bowels well, before it was withdrawn. There were small amounts of blood on the spike, and about her anus, but the heat seared and burned most of it away. The smell of burning human flesh was present in the room, though not nearly as strongly as I had smelled at other occasions.

As the rod was removed from her rectum and returned to heat in the fire, the victims screams ceased and became a low gurgle. With this, I observed that she had fainted, and was in danger of expiring too quickly. I ordered that the bonds on her wrists be loosened and that her head and chest be raised for easier breathing. Water was splashed on her face and body, and she began to come around.

As she became aware once again, sobs of pain and misery resumed. She spoke for the first time since her execution had begun, begging for mercy, asking that I plunge one of the heated spikes through her heart instead of probing her lower regions. She remained beautiful in all of this, her eyes compelling me and making me sad that she had been consigned to this fate. Her request was inadmissible; the king was awaiting her screams, which must be prolonged and extreme.

A new spike was produced, thicker and blunter than the two used so far. It glowed a deep red, but I knew it would not lose its heat so fast. Spreading the victim's womanhood once again, I placed the thicker metal rod against the lips of her sex, distending and allowing entry. The sizzling and smoke of burning flesh appeared again, along with the violent shaking and struggles of her legs, her hips jerking about in an obscene pantomime of passion.

The involuntary thrusts of her hips simply urged the large rod deeper within. The flesh was sticking together, the burned walls of her insides adhering to each other. Her thrusting urged the rod deeper, and within a few minutes a full six inches had been inserted. Surely, the tip was pressing into her now, threatening to push and burn its way through her women's organs and into her bowels.

The woman's struggles grew weaker for a bit until a concerted thrust drove the heated spike through some wall of flesh inside her, perhaps into her womb, or simply through the wall of flesh into her lower body. She then screamed and vomited up what little contents existed in her stomach. Blood streamed from her mouth and nose, which upon inspection was determined to have come from her tongue. She had bitten herself in her agonies; this was not seen as a problem, as it could be explained away and probably would not be seen by those attending her body later.

I ordered that her face be cleaned, so that I could observe her beauty, which remained uncompromised throughout this time. Her writhing paroxysms continued for the burning heavy rod was a good foot inside of her, perhaps more. Her screams had grown slightly weaker, as the muscles of her throught were being worn down by constant use.

Leaving the thicker rod in her woman's opening, I withdrew the first spike from the fire. It had heated nicely by now, a glowing whiteness which lit the darkening room. With a smooth motion it was inserted into her anus, once again sliding up a full 18 inches. I pressed further and changed the angle of the spike, pressing upward and to the side. The result was immediate. I felt internal flesh give way as the heat from the rod cut through her bowels like a knife and new areas of unsullied flesh were reached. In addition, the woman's screams were renewed and became a constant noise which knew no break as her insides were slowly sliced and burned.

The sweat poured from the victim's flesh, making her white skin shiny in the evening light. I ordered torches be lit so that we could see as the night descended. The woman had endured 5 hours of excrutiating torture, and I wondered if the king's ears had had their fill. Nevertheless, the orders were clear, and she had life in her yet. I removed both the heated rods, and returned them to the fire.

Exhausted, I sat for a while and simply observed the girl's lovely body stretched before me. Her breasts were like two white hills covered with snow, nipples hardened and red on top. Her stomach was a valley below her ribs, still smooth in spite of the ravagement which was occuring inside. Her face was in perfect lovely contrast to her hair, which still hung below her. Arms and legs, pulled tightly out on either side of her struggling body, were thin but muscular. I let myself imagine what it would have been like to have her wrapped around me in my bed, and took a mug of wine as I allowed myself to drift for a bit and dream of the pleasant sensations of her body...

She had stopped screaming, and was simply sobbing quietly. Time to begin again. I rose, and with some perterbation, chose a long thin spike which was almost white with heat. I inadvertently touched my clothing and observed that it immediately turned the cloth black, leaving a hole. I swore, and made a decision.

Spreading her womanhood wide to expose the now mangled and blackened interior flesh, I shoved the white hot spike deep within her. She screamed once again as she had screamed at the first insertion, a long, gutteral scream that lasted until no breath remained, I shoved the spike deeper and her scream continued. How far could this spike go, how deep? It slid in further, 10 inches, 12 inches. Her scream had stopped and been replaced by a sort of panting yelp. Deeper I shove, wiggling the spike to create a pathway, shredding her inside.

18 inches, and I knew I was well past her woman's organs. Pushing harder, quickly, the white hot spike penetrated deeping inside, only the cool metal rod extending past her fleshy woman's lips between her legs. Nothing but this rod extending from her lower opening, enveloped by her soft flesh as if sucking it in, showed that there was anything wrong with the maiden.

I no longer knew how far the rod had penetrated, but at least two feet. Each shove brought renewed agonies for the woman, and brought me closer to my goal. She was impaled, the rod making its way higher and deeper inside her body.

It reached a stopping point, resisting my press to go deeper. I knew it was probably pressing against that interior barrier that separated the lower and upper parts of the body. With one gigantic shove, the spike drove through and almost disappeared inside her between her legs; as if her lips had sucked the rod in completely and would now absorb the metal as a meal.

Her screams reached a sudden hysterical climax and then suddenly stopped. Her wild eyes moved about the room, her breathing came quickly and rapidly. Moments later blood streamed from her mouth. I knew I had driven through to her lungs. I had hoped for her heart, where she would go quickly, but the lungs would bring an end soon enough. I reached inside her distended and mangled sex and grabbed the rod, pulling it out. She did not react as I did this, she simply shook and choked, spitting up more and more blood.

The rod was still glowing red. It had not transferred all of its heat in the process of impaling the young girl. But its work was done, and I threw it on the ground near the hearth. The guards stood nearby and watched as the blood streamed from the woman's mouth and nose. She coughed, moaned, and was then silent. Her body ceased its struggles, though it remained in an odd twisted position, left there by her involuntary spasms of agony.

The ropes were loosed and removed, and her body washed. Other than deep wounds where the ropes had held her immobile, she looked completely well. Her face took on a look of peace, and her body appeared as lovely as ever it had during life. She had been a lovely woman, and had endured a 10 hour execution of agony, producing screams that I later learned had driven the king mad. Her body was removed to the care of the women, who finished bathing and dressing her in fine clothing.

I had the opportunity to visit the body after it had been prepared for funeral; she appeared lovely and peaceful, her long hair descending in black curls across her breast, delicate hands holding flowers. There was no sign of the horror that had ended her life.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Miss Brown Gets a Spanking

misThe visit to Idaho Falls was turning sour. This enclave was a little strange, to say the least. Standing in the courtroom downtown, it felt as if I was being railroaded in some southern state.

So they had caught me. I had actually violated the sexual awareness act, which called for proactive understanding of all forms of sexuality. I didn't have my Transgender Experience Certificate. I mean... what the fuck? I had duly gotten my Queer Certificate (which had led to a 3 month affair), my Age Diversity Certificate (why it only applied to women I will never know), and my Kink and Fetish Certificate (which had resulted in a consistent thing for leather).

I figured I would get 30 days. Or maybe just a public humiliation and disgrace sentence. When the judge announced that I was to receive a spanking... well, that was just weird.

OK, weird but not too worrisome. I had been whipped and caned to within an inch of my life, and incarcerated in a level 3 prison. I had been a human cow in the Caribbean. So a spanking seemed rather... light as a sentence. In fact I kind of looked forward to it, in a way.

Apparently Idaho Falls was a very humane town. They prided themselves at providing every prisoner with a private cell, and their food was certainly better than many of the places I had eaten while driving across the United States. I needed to get back to my teaching job (High School), but how long can a spanking take?

It was scheduled for next morning. I figured I might be on the road, heading back, by 3 or 4 in the afternoon.

None of that wonderful food. When I rang for the guard and asked where my dinner was, she said that it was not usual to feed the prisoners the night before a spanking.


Awakened at 7am the next morning by a man wearing a white lab coat, I was grumpier than usual. Tired and hungry, I asked the guy what he was there for. "I am here to take you to the corporal punishment facility to prep you for your spanking. Are you ready?"

Oh sure, I was ready. The earlier the better. I wanted to get something to eat, and get out of that town. They put some chains on my ankles, effectively hobbling me. In addition, a waist chain provided a place to secure my wrists to each side, preventing much movement there either. I shuffled down the hall slowly behind the punishment technician. Going down the stairs to a basement hall, we passed several rooms. From one of the rooms there was a slow but quiet sound going on, a kind of motor sound mixed with the sounds of a woman crying. I began to get a little nervous.

We entered a small, brightly lit room that looked like a doctor's office, except there was a lot more bizarre equipment than a doctor would have. Not to mention the leather restraints on the examining couch.

"What are we doing here?" I asked the technician. I noticed he was young, and cute. I hoped he was the one that would spank me.

"Well, we are going to prep you here. Idaho Falls has a very proud tradition of only using the most modern techniques and corporal punishment methodologies. We don't subscribe to some of the disgusting and tortuous practices that you see in some regions." He smiled and fastened a locked collar to a chain hanging from the ceiling. "OK, go ahead and strip."

"Uh... is that necessary?"

"Oh yes. It is part of our safety regulations. As well as enhancing the whole humiliation aspect of spanking. Its a way of adding a very humanistic touch to the whole concept of corporal punishment. Off with it now!"

I unzipped the orange prison jump suit and stepped out of it. If I am honest, I admit that I have a pretty good body and the reaction out of the tech was predictable. His eyes glued to my bust as I took off my bra, and then slid to my pussy as I took my panties off.

Guiding my naked ass to the exam table, he proceeded to strap me into place. It was a lot like a gyno exam chair, with stirrups that were unusually sturdy and had straps for ankles, knees and upper thighs. Another strap around my waist, an several on my arms. The final ones extended across my chest and neck. I can't remember being secured more tightly or being less able to move (except for when I was getting my Kink Certificate, of course).

The tech produced an enema bag with a large inflatable nozzle at the end of the rubber hose. I was taken aback. "What is this?"

"Well, the primary thing we do with spankings is an enema. It helps keep things clean. Here in Idaho Falls, we pride ourselves on the best and most hygienic corporal punishment regimen." The tech proceeded to fill the enema bag with warm water, and then hooked it to a small pole next to me.

"What... do people shit themselves during spankings???" I asked, my nerves beginning to jangle, wondering what I had gotten into.

"Oh no, no, no. Never. We always do an enema first. Its recommended by the manufacturer."

"What manufacturer?" This guy thought I knew all about his job and assumed I knew exactly what was going on, just like a doctor.

"Of the spanking machine, of course! Here in Idaho Falls, we only use the most modern and effective equipment and techniques."

I sank back and didn't speak for a while as the man slid the nozzle up my ass and inflated it. He took time to fondle my pussy. Oh my god... it actually felt good. Until he unclipped the nozzle, that is. As the water surged in, I grunted in pain of peristalsis. The water flow seemed to take hours, though I think it was only about 10 minutes. My belly began to distend, ruining the nice flat appearance I worked endless hours at the gym to maintain.

When the flow finally stopped, the tech pressed a button which raised the head of the exam couch, so that I was nearly upright. The pain of excess shit in my bowels really took hold, and I moaned loudly. "Don't worry," he said brightly, once again fondling my pussy. "We will drain you now."

"Oh... shit!" I said as another wave of pain took me.

"Well, yes! Actually!" The tech was preternaturally perky. I think he enjoyed his job way too much.

The inflated nozzle collapsed and the pressure inside my bowels suddenly released as the contents squirted out. It was such a relief! I tensed an pushed my stomach muscles, pressing the clumps of shit and water out through my ass as fast as it would go. There was some sort of bucket or container below my ass, and I could hear the contents of my abdomen filling it with a metal reverberation, and then sickening splashes and thuds as it began to fill.

The procedure complete, the tech (with whom I was beginning to fall in love), wiped my ass with a clean cloth and then with another cloth, wiped my pussy. His lingering ministrations felt wonderful. The relief of bowel expulsion, together with his stimulation of my clit (yes, he spent time there as well), almost made me come.

Finally, he unstrapped me, took the collar chain and unlocked the chain from the ceiling. Using the chain he led me on my shaky legs back down the hall to the room that was still emanating the sounds of a motor and the sobs of a woman. Opening the door, I walked in and saw what was to happen to me for the first time. The revelation was... well... revealing. And intimidating. I almost fainted.

There were two pieces of equipment in the room. The both faced the far wall, which had a large one way mirror embedded in it. It was clear that observers would come and view the punishment that took place in the room, which was painted a pristine white and was very brightly lit with spotlights from several angles.

One of the two pieces of equipment was in use, with a young girl about about 18 or 19 with long brown hair in a pony tail, strapped in place as the machine gave her a spanking. Her neck was in a heavy stock, with both wrists secured through the same stock on either side of her head. Her feet were secured in a similar stock, locked in place and positioned about 2 feet apart, allowing her to stand all right but creating enough of a separation that the observers behind the mirror would see her between her legs clearly.

The top stock which secured her neck and wrists was constantly moving. First up, making the girl stand upright, and then down, pushing her into a half kneeling position with her ass sticking out behind her. At just the point where her descent ceased and her ass was fully protruding out the back, a large paddle on a spring was suddenly released and *swat* struck her ass cheeks with a sudden and forceful stroke. The paddle was surfaced with rubber which sported a pattern. The pattern could be seen on her ass cheeks as a kind of patterned bruise. Her ass alternated as a ripple of color from red, to purple and then to black, and then back to red in small streaks.

The poor girl was sobbing, the sobs broken by an occasional gasp as the sudden stroke of the paddle hit her. It looked incredibly painful. Not to mention completely and totally humiliating. I felt such sympathy for her at that moment. I shouldn't have bothered, as I was about to experience the same thing she was going through.

I thought of running for a moment, but realized we were deep underground, underneath the city hall. Getting through the locked doors, up the stairs, through the jail section above... naked... well, it wasn't to be. Its better to grit your teeth and get through it, from my experience.

He guided me to the back of the empty machine. I shuffled forward until my ankles were placed against the half circle on the wooden brace at the bottom of the machine. The tech slid another piece of wood behind my ankles, and snapped it into place. With that easy snap, my ankles were secured in place.

The machine was turned on, but just for a moment, to bring the top wooden bracket into place. My neck was pressed into the half circle cut in the wood, and pressed against it. With another slide and snap, my head was bracketed in place at the top of the machine.

Strangely, my arms were still free. Until, that is, I felt the soft leather of a monoglove (armbinder) being pulled up and around my arms in back. "Hey! I thought my arms were secured up above! What is going on?"

"Well, dear. We have had some problems with the wrist restraints in this machine. A lot of excess splinters. Not good. After several hours, you could get pretty torn up, blood everywhere... it doesn't look good at all. And here in Idaho Falls, we pride ourselves on keeping equipment in top shape for the safety and long term comfort of our detainees."

He was lacing up the armbinder as he spoke. It was a tight one, tight enough my elbows touched, creating some cramping. I wriggled a little to get comfortable, but stopped, realizing that there was no comfort to be found in this situation. It was getting worse and worse. Then it dawned on me.

"Hours???? How long is this spanking, anyway???" I almost screamed out. Panic had hit me hard, but it was too late. I was already locked into this infernal machine, naked and exposed to anyone who happen to have access to the room behind the one way mirror.

"Well... let me see. I think for you it is a six hour stint. Bella over there has been in for three. She is due for a break in another three hours. We treat all our prisoners with respect and concern for their health here in Idaho Falls." The last tightening of the armbinder seemed to squeeze the last of the blood from my arms. I think it was just about then that I started to cry. The constant sobbing from "Bella" next to me, the incredibly tight restraint my body was experiencing, and the new knowledge of just how horrible the spanking was to be caught up with me. Tears trickled down my cheeks.

My monogloved arms were pulled up behind me slightly. I could tell the ring at the end was being hooked to some rope or strap which elevated them slightly, causing more cramping. I began to realize that Idaho Falls was very efficient and up to date and a very sadistic community. It was the wrong place to get caught with a simple misdemeanor. Like not having sex with a tranny and getting my Transgender Certificate.

The Torture Technician, as I know realized he was... nuzzled behind my left ear just a little, and then flipped a switch. The machine I was attached to ground up to life, and began a relentless, slow motion. My neck was pulled up slightly, and then the bracket pushed my neck and shoulders down. As I descended, my ass was forced out behind me. My position took on the look and feel of someone kneeling half over. My knees were bent at about a 45 degree angle. When I hit the bottom of the cycle, the machine held me in place for a moment, and then I felt the first swat.

I screamed.

The paddle seemed huge, covering both ass cheeks and wrapping around my hips slightly. It was wide, stinging from my lower back to the crack where my thighs met my ass. The force of the slap was unexpected, harder than any spanking a human hand could ever deliver. The sting felt like a jellyfish welt, and penetrated. My entire lower body, from my ass to the small amount of flesh I have on my waist, to my thighs, to my vulva, all shuddered and vibrated from the blow.

As the machine raised me up into the standing position, the sting continued. I breathed hard at the top position, trying to regain my composure. The second time I descended, I realized as I went down that my armbinder was being pulled up, getting my arms out of the way for the paddle, and straining them upward in a form of strappado.


The paddle hit me again, harder it seemed. I didn't scream this time, but grunted loudly. Up I went again, pressure relieved from my arms behind me, as they returned to a slightly normal position. I took deep breaths, telling myself I had been through worse... much worse... until the descent and my arms were pulled up behind me, and as I was forced to squat once again... the paddle hit me and I absolutely writhed in pain.

The soulless nature of this machine, continuously and constantly moving my body up and down, automatically doling out the stinging, pain filled, agonizing slaps from the huge paddle... it was dehumanizing in a way I could not grip with my mind. I had become a part of the machine. I had become an object.


I began timing the length between the descents. About 7 seconds. How many had there been? I wasn't counting but the number was building up. 20, 30 maybe. My ass was burning now, on fire constantly. Each new impact poured just a little more fuel on the fire. I began to plead.

"Please, please don't do this. I think I might go insane... I can't take it. Please release me. I will do anything, anything..."

The Torture Tech was nowhere to be seen. He might have been behind me, but somehow I didn't think so. His reflection didn't appear in the mirror before me. The mirror behind which there were an unknown number of people watching me suffer.

It was hard to concentrate, but I began to realize that the mirror was there to increase the humiliation and pain experience as well as provide a shield to the watchers. I could see myself, clearly, my body being forced down into an uncomfortable half kneeling position; my legs bent slightly outward when I was at the bottom, making my pussy clearly visible. My breasts jiggled with each stroke, and I could see the look of agony on my face, which was covered with wetness from tears.

All at once I became aware of Bella once again. She and I were the only things I could see in the room. Everything else was white, almost blindingly bright. She looked worse than I, her face had taken on the look of something no longer intelligent. She still grunted, screamed, cried out, and sobbed, but it seemed more like the reactions of a lunatic, or a dog that had been hit by a car but wasn't dead yet.

Our cries and sobbing made a sort of symphony of pain. I didn't want to participate. I stopped myself from crying. I couldn't stop from grunting from the impacts, but if I could just stop crying and begging...

I realized that I had begun crying again. I babbled, begged, grunted, screamed as loud as I could from the pain, which was swathing my entire lower body, from my lower chest down to my knees. My back was also cramping, the constant up and down of my bound arms creating a constant, ever increasing cramp across my shoulders... and now chest.


Thoughtlessly, mechanically, the brutal spanking continued. How long had I been there? Why didn't they have a clock in the room? Because the didn't want us to know... it might give strength, give us something to focus on. Instead, I floated in a sea of pain, and began to think there was no time, just pain that would go on and on...


Was it just me, or was the paddle descending lower? I had lost most feeling in my ass, which now felt a constant, agonizing pain. But there was one point, just below the ass, where the paddle was stinging in a fresh way. Yes... very slowly, the paddle was moving down the back of my thighs. "FFFUUUUCCCCKKKK" I cried in despair... one of may pleas or mindless expression that I was uttering...


I couldn't take this any more. I was going to die. I could see why they had given me an enema. I surely would have lost it by now. I realized I had lost bladder control, and urine had seeped down and covered my legs. I tried counting again. I got up to 100 and then lost the ability to count.

It was the constant, mindless, incessant nature of the spanking that began to get to me. There was no begging to the machine. I watched my naked form going up and down, rattling as each stroke was delivered, the look of agony on my face, my cunt even wobbling to the strokes.


I was having trouble breathing. I was having trouble standing and supporting myself. That meant I was hanging from my neck and head in the bracket, and that made it harder to breathe. I was being hung, not with a hangman's noose, but with the hard wood of the spanking machine. I just needed to stand... and I did. For a couple of cycles, and then felt my legs give way again.

Bella wasn't there any more. Was she dead? Had someone taken her? In my brain, I knew she must have been taken. I had glanced over to her, at first noting her perfect 18 year old body, later to simply see what I might be like in a few hours. She was gone now. I hope she hadn't died.

The technician stepped in front of me. Oh, thank god, a human being. I pleaded, begged, offered anything. I kept going up to the strangle, and then down to the searing strike from the paddle. He was saying something. What?

"I can't turn the machine off, but I can turn the paddle off for a while. If you ask." What was he saying? What did he mean? It didn't matter, he talked, and I just nodded and begged.

The paddle stopped. The pain didn't go away, my ass and thighs simply burned as I rose up and down, my entire body being manipulated by the machine. Then I felt something...

Something in my pussy.

Fingers, exploring me inside. Each time I descended and stuck my ass out, his fingers slid in. They went in remarkably easy.

Lube. OMG he was lubing me.

Then his cock. Thicker, fatter than his fingers. I descended and sat on his cock. He was behind me, fucking me, impaling me with his cock each time I went down. Sliding out each time I was pulled up.

Up and down... in and out. I didn't care. I was no longer paddled. The burning had started, very slowly, to get better. He fingered my ass as his cock dived deep inside me. My arms and back hurt horribly, but I concentrated on how my ass and legs were beginning to feel better. His fingers inside my ass felt good. He was lubing my ass, generously.

He wasn't inside me any more. Strange. But then... I descended and sat on his cock, sliding into my ass. I could see him behind me, in the mirror. He had his pants down, and hips thrust forward, accepting the forced offering of my body sliding up and down on his cock. I was panting, hair wild, my breasts bobbing slowly up and down.

It was worth it, though the exhaustion of being moved up and down was almost unbearable.

He continued thrusting, matching his thrusts with the motion of my body in the machine.

He came.

With a single huge thrust, and agonized look on his face, I felt him convulse and dump his load inside my ass. As I was pulled up by the machine, he slipped out and stepped back. I continued to slide up and down, moving as my shoulders were pressed and then my neck pulled.


Oh My God... the machine had started to paddle me again. The burning sensation came back immediately, I was on fire and nothing would stop it. I screamed, loudly, forever, until all the breath was forced from my lungs. I took another deep breath and screamed again. I continued screaming until I couldn't any more. Then I begged in a raspy, halting voice.

"Please... please fuck me... please fuck me again..."

"I can't dear. Not for a while at least. I spurt my load and can't do it again right away. Do you want me to find someone else?"

I didn't think twice. "Please... aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh.... please, anyone. anyone to fuck me please please pleaase pleaaasseee.... aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh"

He left the room. I forgot everything and just watch myself scream in the mirror.

Hours, days later, he returned with another man, a guy dressed in a suit but with no tie. His jack was off. I was groaning and grunting as I went up and down.

Wait... this guy... it was the judge that had sentenced me...

It didn't matter. He dropped his pants and the spanking stopped. Moments later he was inside of me, as I was forced down onto his cock. His cock was long, very long and the tip pressed into my cervix when I was forced all the way down. He didn't slip out at the top. I was simply fucking him, forced on him, like some complicated organic masturbation device.

His arms reached around me, and fingered my clit. What a horrible feeling, the torture and the pleasure, the mindlessness of lost reason as he stimulated me, and stimulated himself. Agony... orgasm...

Yes, orgasm. I came. Hard. He did too, dumping his load inside me, deep inside. His cock was pressing hard against my cervix when he spurt. He grunted, moaned and kept coming as I raised and lowered on top of him a few more times. Finally he slipped out, zipped up, slapped the technician on the back and left.

The paddles started again.


up... choke....



Over and over again....

When the machine stopped and the wooden stocks unclipped, and I was released, I simply collapsed of the floor. I no longer cried, though I did vomit. Several times. A hose was produced and I was washed down.

A gurney was brought in and I was lifted on to it. Rolled down to another room deep in the basement, I was given an IV. I lay on my side, unable to move. The next day I managed to catch a glimpse of my ass, which was almost completely black and purple.

It took 4 days to recover until they released me. I found it hard to drive because I couldn't sit for more than an hour. It took another 10 days to get home.

Get all your sexual awareness certs, whether you like trannies or not.