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.