Heresy (closed)

[broomstix]

Her insides were in agony as the sharp edges of the pear bit into them. She felt as if she was burning up from the inside, or as if something was trying to eat her. Like being ripped apart by a wild animal. She wanted to scream, but the brank kept her from that, so she just cried streams of tears, almost not noticing the additional pain of the searing hot wax burning the last unharmed spots on her skins.

Then he left, with Isabella in such pain that she almost fainted again. Her stomach was rebelling, her skin felt clammy, she was covered in sweat, and it took great strength to fight the nausea that was welling up in her. But if she threw up with that damned thing in her mouth, she might actually choke to death!

Then again, what did she care? The agony had made her totally indifferent to what happened to her next. She wanted either the torture to kill her or to confess. As soon as he took that damned thing out, she would confess, knowing she was lying, knowing she was destroying her family honour by being falsely branded a criminal. She was beyond caring. If only that pain stopped!

 

[lovingfingers]

As the monk walked up the corridor, the guards entered the room. They were not particularly fierce or hardened by the horrors of war, so this room made them very uneasy. But one of the guards had seen the beauty restrained in her earlier, and he had to have another look. He was not prepared to see her as she was now though, stretched upon the rack, bleeding and abused, with every orifice filled with some implement of torture.

The other guard was similarly distressed as they stood next to her, muttering, "Stupid girl, why didn't she just confess? This priest is always talking about mercy and forgiveness. Who knows."

They both shrugged and walked back to the door.

 

[broomstix]

Isabella could hear the guards through a veil of pain, and what they said filled her with even more anger. "I WANT TO CONFESS, YOU STUPID ASSES!", she wanted to shout.

Yes, that was it. If only death could get her out of this, so be it. She wanted him to return, and take that thing out of her mouth and then she would tell him any invented crime his sick mind made up. She would be executed, but the pain would stop.

The pain! The points of the pears were still ripping up her insides whenever she even breathed, even though she tried to be as still as possible and avoid any movements that might cause these claws to mangle her further. Her breasts had become orbs of pain. Her mind filled with blackness, and, to her great relief, she passed out again.

 

[lovingfingers]

Brother Francis returned feeling much refreshed. Mid-day prayers always settled him, particularly given his trying calling. The guards had left as he approached and he found himself alone again with Isabella. He walked about and examined her. She looked quite wrung out, but still quite alive. The pears were, no doubt, exceptionally painful, but there was little bleeding, so he had not torn anything, yet. Her breasts were an odd shade of purple. He regretted having to mar such perfect paps.

Perhaps her pain had convinced her of the virtues of truth. He released the clamps on the brank and lifted the face piece from her. No immediate screams or invective. That was good. He went to his desk and brought a piece of parchment and quill, beginning, "Isabella, I will ask you again, in the name of God, are you willing to confess?"

 

[broomstix]

His words slowly brought Isabella to. And back to the pain. It racked her entire body as she sobbed out: "I confess, I confess...whatever it is, I confess. Please...please, get those things out...save me!"

The pain was overwhelming. The rest of her words turned into indistinct screaming as waves of agony shook her, made her throw herself around as far as possible. Tears, screams, and even a little vomit all were thrown out of her gaping mouth, releasing all the pressure her suffering had brought. She wanted OUT, OUT, OUT!

Exhausted, she fell back, reduced to weak sobbing as she repeated, again and again, "I confess...do with me what you want. I deserve execution. I am a criminal."

Whatever it took to free herself from the torture bench, to remove the terrible instruments from her body. He was a madman and would go on torturing her anyway, so a confession was the only way out.

 

[lovingfingers]

"At last," he thought, moving to the pear in her sex. He turned the knob and the device contracted. He closed it most of the way and then released the pear in her ass. Each one slid out easily, leaving both her pussy and ass gaping in front of him. The skin around both of her orifices was red and swollen, but there was very little blood. It had been painful, but he had done no real damage. Assuming she was not condemmed, she would recover.

He then reached for her breasts, unbuckling the collars and peeling them off. She screamed as her breasts were released from bondage. Each of her tender globes was ringed by small punctures. He looked at her and again thought, "she would recover."

He released the wheels on the rack sufficiently to unfasten the fetters on her wrists and ankles. He reached over and picked up her limp body. He carried her to a cell adjoining this chamber and placed her inside. He put a bucket of fresh water and some rags by the door. Having done all this, he closed the door to the cell, saying, "Isabella, I will draw up the charges for you to sign. I am pleased you have decided to see the truth."

 

[broomstix]

Isabella was totally, completely exhausted. Not only the pain that was still running through her entire body, making every movement agony, but also the realization of what she had just done. She had confessed. She had made it possible for this madman to invent false charges against her. Now, all that was waiting for her were a terrible death and disgrace to her family name. She started crying.

For a long time, she just sat there, naked, injured and crying, in the dark, not caring that she was cold, or about anything, really. Then she slowly put on the rags he had thrown her. They were full of holes and felt rough and patchy on her skin, and she did not know if they were even meant to be clothing but she did not care. They covered some part of her, and that was comforting after that terrible time, naked in front of the monster.

Using some of the water to rudimentarily clean her wounds, she thought about what she could do now. Either she could sign the confession, bringing her infamy and probably an agonizing death, or she could refuse. But what would that achieve? He would just drag her back to that terrible chamber and torture another confession out of her.

 

[lovingfingers]

The monk sat at his desk, reviewing the charges. Isabella had said she would confess to them all, but reading them over, it seemed unlikely that she was guilty of all of them. How could anyone so beautiful be so completely debauched?

He had also been watching her as she bathed herself and tried to cover her nakedness. It was hard to tear his eyes from her.

He got up and walked to her cell. He opened the door and instructed her to come out and sit on the chair in front of his desk. When she was seated, he began, "Isabella, I would like to review these charges. Some seem a bit unlikely to me, and I wish to have the truth. Do you understand?"

 

[broomstix]

She sat on the chair and could not believe that he, who had violated her in such unspeakable ways, was suddenly trying to be so reasonable with her. Was this another trick?

In any case, she answered, in a shaky voice, sometimes interrupted by groans and winces when another slight movement brought her new pain: "I...I am a heretic. I did not do any of that other things. There, I admitted it. Now please do whatever you want, but do not bring me back to that chamber..."

She looked at him and tried her best to look harmless and pitiful; this was not hard in her situation, wounded, crying and wrapped in nothing but a few sorry rags. She had no idea what other crimes he would accuse her of, but she would deny them. Her death was inevitable now that she had admitted to heresy. All she could do was deny the other accusations and preserve a tiny bit of her dignity.

 

[lovingfingers]

"Isabella," he sighed, "your punishment is determined by your crimes. Even heresy is forgiveable under certain conditions. One can be mislead."

He stood to stretch, regarding her. Parts of her body were revealed to him and his memory took him back a few hours ago, when she was naked on the rack. So vulnerable... He shook the thought off, but his body remember and his cock hardened.

"Isabella, true or false, did you swallow the devil's seed?" he began.

 

[broomstix]

The strangeness of this accusation made Isabella recoil in shock a bit, and it was with true indignation that she replied: "No!". She had almost added "except from you, you devil", but this would have been madness. He had the power now. He could make her suffer or grant her a quick death.

She was getting quite cold in the riddled, flimsy rags she had been forced to wear, and shivered slightly. Hopefully, he would soon end his strange questions and maybe, if she helped him a bit, he would even let her have something, anything warming.

 

[lovingfingers]

The monk proceeded to list all of the charges to her, and was increasingly frustrated. She would admit to the general charge of heresy, but none of the specifics and none of the other crimes. He had been mistaken to take pity of her and remove her from the rack. He would not make that mistake again.

He returned the parchment to his desk and summoned the guard. When he arrived, they opened her cell door and dragged her out and to a large wheel, whose hub was secured to a wall. They easily lashed her arms and legs to the rim of the wheel, so that her head, hands and feet formed the points of a pentacle. The base of the wheel was suspended within a large trough, dry at the moment.

The guard left and the monk ripped the rags from her body. He turned to his table and pondered.

 

[broomstix]

That was what her attempt to retain some of her honour had brought her: Naked again, and helpless again. Lashed to some gigantic wheel, with the lashes biting into her hands and feet and preventing her from doing anything to cover her body.

She did not know what new pain her tormentor had in mind, but she feared for the worst. Worse probably than what he had done to her before. Worse than she could imagine...

It was cold down here, and now, without even the thin rags, she was starting to feel quite uncomfortable from that alone. So she hung there, nude, exposed, and waiting for the monk to come over and make her sign more outrageous lies about herself. She would see these lies dearly. She would not admit to more than she had to.

 

[lovingfingers]

The brother turned to the barrel next to the trough at the base of the wheel. He bent over and pulled out a cork at the bottom of the barrel. Water poured out and into the trough. He turned and faced his captive, their faces amost touching. He looked into her eyes as water slowly filled the trough. He didn't need to watch it. The barrel was always filled with the right amount of water. He watched her expression as the water level rose sufficiently to touch her feel, projecting at angles from the bottom of the wheel. He reached for one of the spokes of the wheel and rotated it a few degrees right, and then left.

He went back to the table and selected two metal spiders. The sharp tipped legs of the spider were spread wide. He took one and placed it over the nipple of Isabella's right breast. He pressed it against her fleshy pillow with one hand and tightened the screw on the back of the spider with the other. The legs slowly contracted, narrowing, piercing the soft skin of her breast. When it was half contracted, enough that her nipple was lifted above the rest of her tit, he stopped. Her body shook as he took the second spider and caged the nipple of her left breast. Blood dripped slowly from each. Such beautiful nipples he thought, his breath short.

 

[broomstix]

The pain as the points of the spider bit into her was overwhelming. She held nothing back and screamed the whole time as he drove them into her, without mercy. And now a second one! It hurt even worse than the first. She was in agony, and a voice in her screamed at her to give up. An endless stream of curses allowed her to shout out a bit of the sensation of being eaten alive these infernal things produced, but it was still enough to almost make her faint.

She squirmed in her bonds and her voice became hoarser, her words less distinct as the pain slowly overwhelmed her capacity for rational thoughts. She could only feel agony, and she could only scream. She was in hell, and he was the devil.

 

[lovingfingers]

He stepped back from the screaming witch, the words coming from her mouth filled with sin and wickedness. He reached to one side of the wheel and turned it. It slowly swung around ninety degrees, her body now parallel with the floor. The spiders shifted, gravity pulling them, her breasts shaking as her body shook. A fresh torrent of curses assailed his ears.

He grabbed the wheel and turned it another ninety degrees, her head immersed into the water in the trough up to her neck.

He paused. "Ahhh, peace," he murmured. Isabella's body convulsed and bubbles burst from the water. He would have to right her soon, but the sight of her pussy at his eye level distracted him.

 

[broomstix]

This new shock was worse than the claws digging into her. She felt the cold water shock her as it splashed against her overheated head, then, suddenly, she could not breathe. Panic took over. She thrashed around as much as she could, but she could not lift her head above the water. She was going to die in there! Mindless terror filled her.

Eventually, she could not hold her breath anymore. She opened her mouth by instinct, and the water flowed into her, worsening the feeling of dread. She swallowed and swallowed involuntarily as her desperate attempts not to drown forced more and more of the water into her mouth. This terror was worse than anything she had ever felt.

 

[lovingfingers]

After a time, he took the edge of the wheel and pulled it. Isabella's head emerged from the water, gasping, coughing, spitting up water. He rotated her until she was fully upright again, water streaming down her body, mixing with the blood from her breasts, leaving pale crimson lines down her body.

The monk went to the table and selected a rope with short length of wood bar attached to one end. He took it and circled the rope around her throat and one of the spokes from the wheels. He fastened the end of the rope to bar and began to rotate the bar, tightening the rope around her neck.

 

[broomstix]

Isabella barely had any time to gasp for air before she felt the tightness around her throat. No! NO! She wanted to breathe! The panic was much worse than any pain he could inflict. She tried not to scream and concentrate on breathing as long as the rope around her neck still allowed her to, but she only managed short, panicked gasps.

The pain from the claws was still hellish, but she did not have any breath for screaming. It was barely enough to stay conscious, and she had to struggle even for that.

 

[lovingfingers]

When he had twisted the garrot to the right tightness, he used the trailing cord to lash it to one of the spokes of the wheel. He could always tighten it later.

He regarded her and went back to the table, grabbing a couple short lengths of rope. Bringing them back, he fastened the end of each around one of her knees. He pulled one knee wide and secured it to a spoke. He pulled her other knee wide and did the same, leaving her completely open and vulnerable.

Her sex was red and swollen from past abuse, faint tracks of blood trailed down her legs. He turned and looked about for a larger pear, but despite his best efforts, could not find it. He turned to her, pulling his robe off. He would have to improvise.

 

[broomstix]

She could see what was coming, but was too weak to protest. And in any case, she needed all her strength to draw the gasping breaths the rope around her neck allowed her. He would use her to satísfy himself again, but she was only half-conscious, her entire body concentrated on breathing, and on the pain in her breasts.

Her purple face with the wide open eyes showed clear signs of her slow suffocation, and her spirit was weakening. She did not care anymore. She would sign whatever he claimed about her, just to get killed as quickly as possible. But first, he would use her again. It was inevitable, and it added to her despair.

 

[lovingfingers]

He glanced up at her face, turning purple. Ah, a bit too much. He loosed the trailing cord on the garrot and unwound it one revolution, then reattached the cord. He wanted her conscious.

He stepped back and grabbed the wheel again. He rotated it until she was inverted again, this time at a slight angle, her nose and mouth above the water line. He looked over at the table for a moment and selected a candle. It was two inches thick and ten long, with five wicks, arranged in the sign of the cross. He brought the base of the candle to her pussy, positioned it and pushed. Although there was resistance, it eventually slid inside her. He pressed it as deep as it would go and went back to the table for a taper. He lit each wick and stood back to observe it work. The flames were several inches above her flesh, but the number of wicks melted the wax quickly, and soon wax dripped down the sides of the candle, coming to rest on her delicated flesh.

 

[broomstix]

The candle was smooth and did not hurt too much going into her, but the thought of the fire coming closer and closer, searing her flesh, broiling her most tender parts, was too much. Finally, she could scream again! And scream she did!

"AH! AH! TAKE IT OUT!", then, slightly quieter, and interrupted by sobs, she shouted: "I confess whatever you want... take it out! Take it out!". Panic had completely taken her over. She did not even realize she was just signing her own death warrant. She would not have cared even if she had. Just out if this place, out of this hell. Out! Out!

She could already feel the warmth of the fire creeping closer, and, although perhaps she was just imagining it in her panic, she thought she could already hear the crackling of singed hair.

 

[lovingfingers]

"Oh really?" I replied cynically, "that is what you said earlier, and then you recanted nearly everything."

I watched the wax start to drip in ernest, thin rivets running over your pussy and down your belly.

"How do I know you are telling the truth?"

 

[broomstix]

I hissed in pain with every single hit of hot wax scalding my skin and pleaded: "Please! Believe me! I will not take back anything! Just free me! You have won."

This was too much. The pain, the suffocating grip of the tight rope, the fear of more pain. End it now, and the punishment could not be much worse.

"Please! Release me, you have succeeded, and I will confess everything I have done."