Joker14
Magistrate
Totally understood my man I was just checking
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Asta's Execution
- Thread starter Inugami
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. You must be very busy! All the best and Merry Christmas!And I'm back, hopefully without long interruptions this time lol.
Part 4
Several days later
Asta shifted uncomfortably, arms chained behind her with horribly rusted irons. Her entire body ached for the beating she had received at the hands of that man, who apparently had powers identical to her own. No, his powers must have been much greater, monstrous even. She cursed herself softly for not giving much thought to the possibility that there were others with abilities like hers.
There was an echo from the hall beyond her cell door, the barest hint of footsteps. She tried to move into a less vulnerable position but found, as she had found upon waking days ago, that she felt inexplicably weak. It was more than the beating she had taken, it seeped into her bones and allowed the chill of her dungeon to bite deeper into her bare flesh.
Her tunic had been ruined, it's absence noted almost immediately after she had woken. All that was left was her tattered breast bindings, and they were barely clinging to her cold skin by threads.
Asta peered down at her shredded clothing, noting with a bit of embarrassment, though she'd never show it, that her bindings were a bit loose, causing a bits of her soft bosom to show through. She followed the length of her bare, tight stomach, remembering that she had eaten very little, and took stock of her skirt. It had fared a little better than her bindings, torn a bit in parts but not showing anything important. She found herself wishing she had worn some sort of footwear, sandals at least, though she had never intended to be caught and thrown in a dungeon.
The slightest movement outside her cell caught her attention, and suddenly her eyes were locked onto the deepest, darkest set of pupils she had ever seen. They bored into her from the darkness, seeming to deepen every moment she stared into them silently.
“Who are you?” she called out, a bit uneasy that someone had been able to sneak right up to her cell before she noticed. “Come to gawk? Take a good look then!”
Her words were braver than her mind. In truth, she had never been so exposed to the sight of anyone who happened to walk by. She had never even been with a man. She felt it difficult to admit even to herself, but the whole situation was beginning to unnerve her.
“I care not to gawk, woman. I came to retrieve you. I've been given charge of this… task.”
His voice was deep and soft, yet seemed to sink into her mind, as if she were thinking the words just before hearing them.
Asta couldn't help but keep a small tremble from her voice.
“Wh-who are you? What task?” she felt she already knew the answer to the second question.
The cell door creaked open. She hadn't even heard keys or the lock turning.
“You may call me Shaman if you wish. Not that my title bears to you any significance. I am here to retrieve you, and take you to your place of execution.” He entered the cell, smaller of build than his voice suggested. Asta still couldn't help but feel intimidated, trying for not the first time since being chained to access her ability. That small spark of pain all too familiar since being in this place traveled through her wrists and up her arms, zapping her at the base of her skull.
She knew she was going to be executed, ever since she had been caught. Accepting it as a done deal however, that was something else entirely. She fought against her turning stomach and did her best to sound strong.
“You, kill me? I'd like to see you try.”
The man paused for a moment, long enough for Asta to catch the sound of heavy footsteps echoing along the hall.
“Your wish is granted, though through no mercy on my part. You will be able to watch. Indeed, I believe that is part of the point.”
Two soldiers entered the cell, carrying a length of wood about as long as a man was tall, and four or five fists thick.
Before Asta could even guess what it was for, the man who had entered the cell first, the Shaman, grabbed her by the chains and unhooked them from one another. The irons were still tightly clasped around her wrists, but they were no longer connected behind her.
She took a step forward, gaging how well she might be able to fight the two soldiers with the Shaman so close, before her shoulders were seized and she was forced, struggling, to kneel.
The more burly soldier hefted the length of wood on his own, moving behind her as the smaller soldier took one of her chained arms and wrapped it around the wood, producing a rope and tying her securely. Asta cursed her weakened body for not giving her the strength to blow the man’s innards out, unable to wrest her arm from the man's firm grasp. He moved to the other side and repeated the process. When he had finished, he and the other soldier took each end of the wood and lifted until she was standing, then released.
She felt it's length dig into her shoulders, it's weight nearly pushing her back down on her knees. She gritted her teeth, deciding that she would remain standing at any cost. She would not kneel again, no matter what they had in store.
“Move, woman.” the Shaman’s voice tore into her courage, and she felt a shove, forcing her to exit the cell carrying her awful burden.
Part 4
Several days later
Asta shifted uncomfortably, arms chained behind her with horribly rusted irons. Her entire body ached for the beating she had received at the hands of that man, who apparently had powers identical to her own. No, his powers must have been much greater, monstrous even. She cursed herself softly for not giving much thought to the possibility that there were others with abilities like hers.
There was an echo from the hall beyond her cell door, the barest hint of footsteps. She tried to move into a less vulnerable position but found, as she had found upon waking days ago, that she felt inexplicably weak. It was more than the beating she had taken, it seeped into her bones and allowed the chill of her dungeon to bite deeper into her bare flesh.
Her tunic had been ruined, it's absence noted almost immediately after she had woken. All that was left was her tattered breast bindings, and they were barely clinging to her cold skin by threads.
Asta peered down at her shredded clothing, noting with a bit of embarrassment, though she'd never show it, that her bindings were a bit loose, causing a bits of her soft bosom to show through. She followed the length of her bare, tight stomach, remembering that she had eaten very little, and took stock of her skirt. It had fared a little better than her bindings, torn a bit in parts but not showing anything important. She found herself wishing she had worn some sort of footwear, sandals at least, though she had never intended to be caught and thrown in a dungeon.
The slightest movement outside her cell caught her attention, and suddenly her eyes were locked onto the deepest, darkest set of pupils she had ever seen. They bored into her from the darkness, seeming to deepen every moment she stared into them silently.
“Who are you?” she called out, a bit uneasy that someone had been able to sneak right up to her cell before she noticed. “Come to gawk? Take a good look then!”
Her words were braver than her mind. In truth, she had never been so exposed to the sight of anyone who happened to walk by. She had never even been with a man. She felt it difficult to admit even to herself, but the whole situation was beginning to unnerve her.
“I care not to gawk, woman. I came to retrieve you. I've been given charge of this… task.”
His voice was deep and soft, yet seemed to sink into her mind, as if she were thinking the words just before hearing them.
Asta couldn't help but keep a small tremble from her voice.
“Wh-who are you? What task?” she felt she already knew the answer to the second question.
The cell door creaked open. She hadn't even heard keys or the lock turning.
“You may call me Shaman if you wish. Not that my title bears to you any significance. I am here to retrieve you, and take you to your place of execution.” He entered the cell, smaller of build than his voice suggested. Asta still couldn't help but feel intimidated, trying for not the first time since being chained to access her ability. That small spark of pain all too familiar since being in this place traveled through her wrists and up her arms, zapping her at the base of her skull.
She knew she was going to be executed, ever since she had been caught. Accepting it as a done deal however, that was something else entirely. She fought against her turning stomach and did her best to sound strong.
“You, kill me? I'd like to see you try.”
The man paused for a moment, long enough for Asta to catch the sound of heavy footsteps echoing along the hall.
“Your wish is granted, though through no mercy on my part. You will be able to watch. Indeed, I believe that is part of the point.”
Two soldiers entered the cell, carrying a length of wood about as long as a man was tall, and four or five fists thick.
Before Asta could even guess what it was for, the man who had entered the cell first, the Shaman, grabbed her by the chains and unhooked them from one another. The irons were still tightly clasped around her wrists, but they were no longer connected behind her.
She took a step forward, gaging how well she might be able to fight the two soldiers with the Shaman so close, before her shoulders were seized and she was forced, struggling, to kneel.
The more burly soldier hefted the length of wood on his own, moving behind her as the smaller soldier took one of her chained arms and wrapped it around the wood, producing a rope and tying her securely. Asta cursed her weakened body for not giving her the strength to blow the man’s innards out, unable to wrest her arm from the man's firm grasp. He moved to the other side and repeated the process. When he had finished, he and the other soldier took each end of the wood and lifted until she was standing, then released.
She felt it's length dig into her shoulders, it's weight nearly pushing her back down on her knees. She gritted her teeth, deciding that she would remain standing at any cost. She would not kneel again, no matter what they had in store.
“Move, woman.” the Shaman’s voice tore into her courage, and she felt a shove, forcing her to exit the cell carrying her awful burden.
Luriea stood outside the cells where all the worst criminals in the city were detained, though they were rarely there for long. She was very proud of the order she maintained in her city, and if she was honest with herself, the methods of obtaining that order excited her to no end.
Luriea had overseen many executions of almost any variety imaginable, having conceptualized a few when she wanted to provide a particularly drastic example.
Her favorite was the time she had a serial rapist bound to a small boat, several shallow cuts made to his body in various places, and then covered in a mix of honey and excrement. He had then been set adrift in a swamp just inside the mainland, alone.
Luriea had sent guards several days later to make sure he hadn't escaped, and they returned with haunted looks and requests to be put on temporary leave.
Their description of the man's condition pleased her greatly, and best of all, he had still been alive.
Now she waited for the new source of her exasperation to show.
Having gone over Grath’s instructions to the guards, Luriea suspected this would become her favored method of execution, perhaps for any type of criminal. It was versatile, and with a few tweaks, she felt she could make it resoundingly humiliating to the criminal.
Activity by the cell exit, there was only one, drew her attention back. A guard exited, followed by the thief woman, who was pushed sideways out of the doorway by a second guard. She carried a hefty length of wood, as long as a man was tall and quite thick, arms bound to it by ropes and chains.
Her wrists were still shackled with the rusty irons, preventing her from using any ability to resist.
Luriea noted with satisfaction the concentration the woman had to use to stay upright.
She stumbled several times as she was walked forward, breast bindings shifting treacherously even though she was unable to do anything about them.
The Shaman exited from behind, his dark cloak brushing the dust of the street.
He directed the guards to move the woman over to Luriea, and they did so.
Stumbling under the weight of the beam, arms beginning to shake from the strain already, the woman didn't seem to be taking any notice of her surroundings. There was a look of determination beneath the struggle to remain standing, and Luriea couldn't help but notice that the thief was very pretty.
Her straight black hair fell to her bare shoulders, passing over her emerald green eyes half closed in concentration.
They brought her to a halt, and finally she was able to spare the strength to look up, immediately noticing Luriea with hostility in her gaze.
“Hello dear.” Luriea said, her pleasant tone belied her true disdain for the thief. “Lovely day, isn't it?”
The woman tried to spit, but the smaller guard saw it coming and kneed her in the stomach.
She collapsed to her knees under the sudden strike and weight of the beam, coughing and leaning it to one side to prevent herself from falling face first into the dirt.
Luriea smiled at the guard and knelt before the woman, her vibrant dress collecting a bit of dust from the road.
“Your name is Asta, yes? I had my men look into you. Nothing special, if not for your abilities. Just a common scapegrace, you're a nobody.”
Asta glared up at Luriea, breathing hard but bringing the coughing under control.
“Fear not though, Asta, for you do have use. Today, we begin a new method of dealing with your sort, and if all goes according to plan, you won't enjoy a second of it!” she nodded to the guards, who roughly grabbed the beam and pulled Asta up to a standing position and holding her there.
Luriea stepped forward, grasping a few of the bindings around Asta’s chest, and tugged on them lightly.
The frayed material snapped at the back easily, only held to the woman's body by a few threads.
Asta couldn't prevent the look of horror that spread across her features as her breast bindings fell away, fully revealing one soft, pert breast, and most of the other. A few bindings still held, but they did little more than cover one nipple.
Luriea laughed and stepped back.
“As you were men, take this worthless meat to her death.”
The guards, not making any effort to hide their gazes as they took in Asta’s exposed bosom, spun her toward the road and shoved her roughly on.
Asta didn't have much time to think about her exposed body, but for a split second a million thoughts rushed through her mind.
The foremost was that she was helpless, for the first time she could ever remember. Unable to even bring her hands close to cover her breasts, tied and chained as they were to the beam, she felt trapped. Stripped of even the ability to cover herself, she was subject to the evident, lustful gazes of the guards who had power over her now.
She hated Luriea for making her feel so vulnerable. As she was forced again to walk under the weight of the beam, she couldn't spare much thought or concentration. One thought she did spare, held on to even, was that she should have killed Luriea when she had the chance.
Once she found a way out of this, she would correct her mistake.
As she walked slowly under her burden, she tried again to summon her powers, only to be met with that now familiar jolt that traveled up her arms. It was powerful enough to make her stumble and fall, though the guards were watching for this and grabbed her to help her stay up.
One guard’s hand found its way to her exposed breast, roughly pushing it, and her, back up.
Asta jerked to look at him, the vulnerable feeling multiplying tenfold.
He sneered back at her and gave the beam a shovel, causing her to stumble into her labored walk again.
Soon they were on a main road, the guards calling for the common folk to make way.
Their gazes made Asta turn red with humiliation, many taking second glances when they saw what they were moving for.
As the guards cleared the street for a ways, the Shaman kept Asta on the path.
As she walked, a murmur began to flow through the crowd. It started low, but built in intensity until there was a shout. Then another. Then several at once.
The crown began to jeer at her, men asking if she was busy later that night, and commenting on her, as they put it, immaculate tits.
The women were just as cruel. Some referred to her as a common milking animal, some called her ugly in apparent jealousy as their men stared on.
Asta, beneath her struggle, felt a growing trepidation.
She had been left to think for days of what her execution could be like, and nothing she imagined really frightened her. It was so different, to be out, marched along the street, nearly bare to the waist and unable to do anything about what was happening to her.
Somewhere in her mind while in the cells she had convinced herself that she could always fight back, that she had power nobody else had.
That belief had been cut short when she lost to that man, but somehow she still believed she would be able to fight her way out.
That seemed less and less the case, feeling weak and crushed by a simple wooden beam. Manhandled by two simple guards and unable to fight back against, or barely even look up to see the crowd jeering at her.
She was feeling so much at once that she wasn't accustomed to.
Pain from the beating she had received from that man. Humiliation at having her body exposed to strangers. Helplessness at not being able to fight back, or even to cover herself.
The crowd ahead was beginning to thin out, though they had gained a following behind.
Asta stopped a moment to try to view her surroundings, noticing they were exiting the city just before a guard have her another shove. She stumbled on, bare feet traversing grass now instead of stone and dirt.
The terrain turned upward, and she found herself ascending a small hill.
Even though the incline wasn't steep,it intensified her struggle with the beam greatly, until she could only focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
It even made her forget, for just a moment, that her breast swung free and moved with every step she took, drawing the attention of the many men following.
A guard placed a hand on her chest, stopping her advance.
She looked up and noticed, with a fresh jolt of humiliation, that this was neither of the two what had spurred her to this place.
Now that she wasn't struggling to walk, she glanced around.
There were five new guards most of them moving about busily, tossing ropes out and one using a hammer on the base of a long beam planted in the ground.
The guard that had stopped her announced, seemingly to her and to the crowd at once,
“Asta, thief and murderer! You are hereby sentenced to death by her highness, Lady Luriea! Let it be known that this is the fate of all who defy the order in our fair city!”
With that he shoved her by the chest, causing her to fall back onto the heavy beam.
Her breath was driven out by the fall, and as she tried to recover, two guards appeared.
They untied and unshackled her left arm from the beam, passing a fresh rope underneath and over her upper arm near the shoulder, tying down tight to the wood.
Grasping the chain connected to the rusted iron on her wrist, the second guard pulled her forearm down against the wood, the iron biting into the soft base of her palm, exposing her wrist.
Asta struggled, though in her weakened state she wasn't much against two grown men.
Her struggle intensified to the utmost of her ability when the first guard came back into view, carrying several long, rusted spikes and a mallet.
“What do you think you're doing with those?”
She asked angrily.
The guard ignored her, dropping all the spikes save one, which he set against her exposed wrist.
She stared at the brown/black of the rusted metal, her mind knowing what was about to happen but barely able to acknowledge it.
“Sto-”
She didn't even get the full word out before the guard brought the mallet down on the spike in a heavy, decisive strike.
It pierced her wrist easily, driving a bit into the wood behind it.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”
Asta screamed and jerked inadvertently, but was held fast by the ropes and second guard.
The first guard continued to strike the head of the rusty spike, driving it deeper and deeper with each blow.
Asta twisted and screamed on the ground, unable to escape the beam or the terrible pain that was invading her left arm.
She tried instinctively to use her powers, and the zapping pain from her wrist travelled to her skull several times worse than before, from inside her arm.
Somewhere during her thrashing the final threads holding together her bindings snapped, causing the material to come loose.
A guard noticed, and grabbed the cloth, tossing it away.
That gave her a few moments to calm down, which she did, staring first at her wrist, then slowly looking down to see her fully exposed torso.
The crowd jeered, almost applauding the guard that had removed the bindings from her breasts.
Now they sat, perfectly round and accentuated by her well muscled yet still feminine stomach.
Wave after wave of humiliation hit her, accompanied by the pain now radiating in her wrist and a dull ache at the base of her skull.
The guards moved to her other arm and began to repeat the process, retying ropes and pulling her arm against the wood.
She didn't beg, refused to beg, instead gritting her teeth as the spike was set against her flesh.
“AAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”
Her voice undulated with every strike of the mallet, until the spike was fully set.
She had been unable to keep from struggling as she was nailed, breasts bouncing and swaying for all the crowd to enjoy, stomach muscles rippling with the strain of her exertion.
The guard that had held her chains produced a key, and undid the irons about her wrists.
Asta looked from one spike to the other in horror, realizing slowly that she was likely pinned for good, unable to access her powers due to the dreadful spikes that were now inside her.
A guard walked by her to her bare feet, looping a rope around them and drawing it tight before she noticed, fixated as she was on the spikes and the pain they produced.
She looked down at her legs, a fresh wave of humiliation hitting her as she saw the mocking crowd beyond her exposed breasts.
The guard looped the ropes around her ankles a few more times before tying it off and moving up to one side of the beam she was now fixed to.
Another guard appeared on the opposite side, and together they grasped the beam, dragging it, and Asta, back along the grassy ground.
She cried out as her wrists jerked and strained against the spikes, and she tried to get her feet up and under her to take the pressure off her arms.
Tied as her ankles were, it was an impossible task, and she cried out and struggled the until the beam thudded against the second, longer beam set into the ground.
Asta breathed hard, breasts heaving up and down with her chest as she looked up and back at the longer beam.
The guards looped ropes around the end of her beam, tossing them up and over the longer beam.
The ropes immediately became taut as they were pulled from a direction Asta could not see.
Her beam began to slide up the longer beam, and she quickly tried to get her feet underneath her to stand.
She needn't have bothered.
Her beam steadily rose, until she was pulled into the air.
She gasped in shock and pain, her wait being taken straight to her wrists and, somewhat, to the ropes binding her upper arms.
Her beam thudded back, falling into a notch cut in the longer beam.
A guard worked behind her to secure the means to one another as she struggled, bound feet attempting to find purchase on the longer beam.
She couldn't breathe, the pain and strain in her arms stealing even her strength to do that.
Another two guards appeared before her, one with two spikes and a mallet.
She realized what was about to happen, and tried to kick out with her bound feet.
The guard without the spikes deftly moved around her weak attack, and grabbed her legs, pulling them up and back against the long beam until her feet were flat against it.
He tied them off after looping the rope around the beam, the second soldier placing a spike against one foot.
She continued to struggle, earning a slap from the first guard across her face. This did little to stop her from trying to free her feet
The guard with the spike adjusted and adjusted again, having a difficult time to fully seek the spike he was trying to place as asta's torn skirt swayed about with her struggles.
The first guard noticed this, and slowly reached up with a wry smile on his face.
He grasped the waistline of her skirt, and Asta ceased her struggles long enough to take a gasping breath in, about to protest.
He ripped the skirt away, causing her to jerk violently against the nails.
This left her fully exposed save for the underwrap covering her sex.
As Asta looked down in shock at her sudden, further exposure, the mallet guard nodded a thanks to the first, and began to hammer the spike in unobstructed.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH PLEEEEEEEAAAASSE!”
Asta screamed, a pleading cry ripping from her throat for the first time since her execution started.
The shock and humiliation of being almost fully naked, coupled with the pain set her so far on edge that she was unable to keep her tough demeanour.
The guard quickly repeated the other foot as she pleaded between cries of pain.
When he finished he withdrew, a disturbed look on his face, though the first guard that had taken her skirt remained.
He cut the ropes around her ankles and forearms, the added weight to the spikes in her wrists and feet making her whimper.
He walked back around to face her, looking over her breasts and shapely legs.
She was almost eye level with him, becoming accustomed enough to the new pain that she could glare at him for what he had done to her.
He laughed at the look of defiance, stepping close and feeling her cheek with his rough knuckles.
He drew back quickly as she bit as his hand, though he moved back to draw his fingers down her chest and between her breasts.
She jerked once, flinched at the pain, and then turned her head away, clenching her teeth and closing her eyes against this violation.
It would only get worse as the guard caressed one breast, and then the other.
He slowly slid his hand down her hard stomach, until his fingers rested just inside the folds of her underwrap.
He ripped it off quickly, causing her to flop forward, and then back again against the beam. Her naked ass felt the cold beam behind her, and she stared out, past the leering guard and the crowd.
All eyes were focused on her, the women looking mockingly on.
The men however, had inexplicable looks on their faces. Hungry, ravenous looks, as if they were animals barely held back by an invisible cage.
Asta looked down at herself, now fully naked.
She had thought losing her bindings was bad. She found it unfathomable how much worse losing her skirt was.
But this...
The feeling she had now wasn't something she could ever describe.
She had never been with a man, had never exposed herself to anyone fully.
Now she had it done to her, no choice, no ability to resist. She was now completely bare for everyone in the city to view. In pain, hung out like meat, naked and powerless.
She couldn't imagine much worse, until she was Luriea’s palanquin approaching from the city.
Luriea had overseen many executions of almost any variety imaginable, having conceptualized a few when she wanted to provide a particularly drastic example.
Her favorite was the time she had a serial rapist bound to a small boat, several shallow cuts made to his body in various places, and then covered in a mix of honey and excrement. He had then been set adrift in a swamp just inside the mainland, alone.
Luriea had sent guards several days later to make sure he hadn't escaped, and they returned with haunted looks and requests to be put on temporary leave.
Their description of the man's condition pleased her greatly, and best of all, he had still been alive.
Now she waited for the new source of her exasperation to show.
Having gone over Grath’s instructions to the guards, Luriea suspected this would become her favored method of execution, perhaps for any type of criminal. It was versatile, and with a few tweaks, she felt she could make it resoundingly humiliating to the criminal.
Activity by the cell exit, there was only one, drew her attention back. A guard exited, followed by the thief woman, who was pushed sideways out of the doorway by a second guard. She carried a hefty length of wood, as long as a man was tall and quite thick, arms bound to it by ropes and chains.
Her wrists were still shackled with the rusty irons, preventing her from using any ability to resist.
Luriea noted with satisfaction the concentration the woman had to use to stay upright.
She stumbled several times as she was walked forward, breast bindings shifting treacherously even though she was unable to do anything about them.
The Shaman exited from behind, his dark cloak brushing the dust of the street.
He directed the guards to move the woman over to Luriea, and they did so.
Stumbling under the weight of the beam, arms beginning to shake from the strain already, the woman didn't seem to be taking any notice of her surroundings. There was a look of determination beneath the struggle to remain standing, and Luriea couldn't help but notice that the thief was very pretty.
Her straight black hair fell to her bare shoulders, passing over her emerald green eyes half closed in concentration.
They brought her to a halt, and finally she was able to spare the strength to look up, immediately noticing Luriea with hostility in her gaze.
“Hello dear.” Luriea said, her pleasant tone belied her true disdain for the thief. “Lovely day, isn't it?”
The woman tried to spit, but the smaller guard saw it coming and kneed her in the stomach.
She collapsed to her knees under the sudden strike and weight of the beam, coughing and leaning it to one side to prevent herself from falling face first into the dirt.
Luriea smiled at the guard and knelt before the woman, her vibrant dress collecting a bit of dust from the road.
“Your name is Asta, yes? I had my men look into you. Nothing special, if not for your abilities. Just a common scapegrace, you're a nobody.”
Asta glared up at Luriea, breathing hard but bringing the coughing under control.
“Fear not though, Asta, for you do have use. Today, we begin a new method of dealing with your sort, and if all goes according to plan, you won't enjoy a second of it!” she nodded to the guards, who roughly grabbed the beam and pulled Asta up to a standing position and holding her there.
Luriea stepped forward, grasping a few of the bindings around Asta’s chest, and tugged on them lightly.
The frayed material snapped at the back easily, only held to the woman's body by a few threads.
Asta couldn't prevent the look of horror that spread across her features as her breast bindings fell away, fully revealing one soft, pert breast, and most of the other. A few bindings still held, but they did little more than cover one nipple.
Luriea laughed and stepped back.
“As you were men, take this worthless meat to her death.”
The guards, not making any effort to hide their gazes as they took in Asta’s exposed bosom, spun her toward the road and shoved her roughly on.
Asta didn't have much time to think about her exposed body, but for a split second a million thoughts rushed through her mind.
The foremost was that she was helpless, for the first time she could ever remember. Unable to even bring her hands close to cover her breasts, tied and chained as they were to the beam, she felt trapped. Stripped of even the ability to cover herself, she was subject to the evident, lustful gazes of the guards who had power over her now.
She hated Luriea for making her feel so vulnerable. As she was forced again to walk under the weight of the beam, she couldn't spare much thought or concentration. One thought she did spare, held on to even, was that she should have killed Luriea when she had the chance.
Once she found a way out of this, she would correct her mistake.
As she walked slowly under her burden, she tried again to summon her powers, only to be met with that now familiar jolt that traveled up her arms. It was powerful enough to make her stumble and fall, though the guards were watching for this and grabbed her to help her stay up.
One guard’s hand found its way to her exposed breast, roughly pushing it, and her, back up.
Asta jerked to look at him, the vulnerable feeling multiplying tenfold.
He sneered back at her and gave the beam a shovel, causing her to stumble into her labored walk again.
Soon they were on a main road, the guards calling for the common folk to make way.
Their gazes made Asta turn red with humiliation, many taking second glances when they saw what they were moving for.
As the guards cleared the street for a ways, the Shaman kept Asta on the path.
As she walked, a murmur began to flow through the crowd. It started low, but built in intensity until there was a shout. Then another. Then several at once.
The crown began to jeer at her, men asking if she was busy later that night, and commenting on her, as they put it, immaculate tits.
The women were just as cruel. Some referred to her as a common milking animal, some called her ugly in apparent jealousy as their men stared on.
Asta, beneath her struggle, felt a growing trepidation.
She had been left to think for days of what her execution could be like, and nothing she imagined really frightened her. It was so different, to be out, marched along the street, nearly bare to the waist and unable to do anything about what was happening to her.
Somewhere in her mind while in the cells she had convinced herself that she could always fight back, that she had power nobody else had.
That belief had been cut short when she lost to that man, but somehow she still believed she would be able to fight her way out.
That seemed less and less the case, feeling weak and crushed by a simple wooden beam. Manhandled by two simple guards and unable to fight back against, or barely even look up to see the crowd jeering at her.
She was feeling so much at once that she wasn't accustomed to.
Pain from the beating she had received from that man. Humiliation at having her body exposed to strangers. Helplessness at not being able to fight back, or even to cover herself.
The crowd ahead was beginning to thin out, though they had gained a following behind.
Asta stopped a moment to try to view her surroundings, noticing they were exiting the city just before a guard have her another shove. She stumbled on, bare feet traversing grass now instead of stone and dirt.
The terrain turned upward, and she found herself ascending a small hill.
Even though the incline wasn't steep,it intensified her struggle with the beam greatly, until she could only focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
It even made her forget, for just a moment, that her breast swung free and moved with every step she took, drawing the attention of the many men following.
A guard placed a hand on her chest, stopping her advance.
She looked up and noticed, with a fresh jolt of humiliation, that this was neither of the two what had spurred her to this place.
Now that she wasn't struggling to walk, she glanced around.
There were five new guards most of them moving about busily, tossing ropes out and one using a hammer on the base of a long beam planted in the ground.
The guard that had stopped her announced, seemingly to her and to the crowd at once,
“Asta, thief and murderer! You are hereby sentenced to death by her highness, Lady Luriea! Let it be known that this is the fate of all who defy the order in our fair city!”
With that he shoved her by the chest, causing her to fall back onto the heavy beam.
Her breath was driven out by the fall, and as she tried to recover, two guards appeared.
They untied and unshackled her left arm from the beam, passing a fresh rope underneath and over her upper arm near the shoulder, tying down tight to the wood.
Grasping the chain connected to the rusted iron on her wrist, the second guard pulled her forearm down against the wood, the iron biting into the soft base of her palm, exposing her wrist.
Asta struggled, though in her weakened state she wasn't much against two grown men.
Her struggle intensified to the utmost of her ability when the first guard came back into view, carrying several long, rusted spikes and a mallet.
“What do you think you're doing with those?”
She asked angrily.
The guard ignored her, dropping all the spikes save one, which he set against her exposed wrist.
She stared at the brown/black of the rusted metal, her mind knowing what was about to happen but barely able to acknowledge it.
“Sto-”
She didn't even get the full word out before the guard brought the mallet down on the spike in a heavy, decisive strike.
It pierced her wrist easily, driving a bit into the wood behind it.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”
Asta screamed and jerked inadvertently, but was held fast by the ropes and second guard.
The first guard continued to strike the head of the rusty spike, driving it deeper and deeper with each blow.
Asta twisted and screamed on the ground, unable to escape the beam or the terrible pain that was invading her left arm.
She tried instinctively to use her powers, and the zapping pain from her wrist travelled to her skull several times worse than before, from inside her arm.
Somewhere during her thrashing the final threads holding together her bindings snapped, causing the material to come loose.
A guard noticed, and grabbed the cloth, tossing it away.
That gave her a few moments to calm down, which she did, staring first at her wrist, then slowly looking down to see her fully exposed torso.
The crowd jeered, almost applauding the guard that had removed the bindings from her breasts.
Now they sat, perfectly round and accentuated by her well muscled yet still feminine stomach.
Wave after wave of humiliation hit her, accompanied by the pain now radiating in her wrist and a dull ache at the base of her skull.
The guards moved to her other arm and began to repeat the process, retying ropes and pulling her arm against the wood.
She didn't beg, refused to beg, instead gritting her teeth as the spike was set against her flesh.
“AAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”
Her voice undulated with every strike of the mallet, until the spike was fully set.
She had been unable to keep from struggling as she was nailed, breasts bouncing and swaying for all the crowd to enjoy, stomach muscles rippling with the strain of her exertion.
The guard that had held her chains produced a key, and undid the irons about her wrists.
Asta looked from one spike to the other in horror, realizing slowly that she was likely pinned for good, unable to access her powers due to the dreadful spikes that were now inside her.
A guard walked by her to her bare feet, looping a rope around them and drawing it tight before she noticed, fixated as she was on the spikes and the pain they produced.
She looked down at her legs, a fresh wave of humiliation hitting her as she saw the mocking crowd beyond her exposed breasts.
The guard looped the ropes around her ankles a few more times before tying it off and moving up to one side of the beam she was now fixed to.
Another guard appeared on the opposite side, and together they grasped the beam, dragging it, and Asta, back along the grassy ground.
She cried out as her wrists jerked and strained against the spikes, and she tried to get her feet up and under her to take the pressure off her arms.
Tied as her ankles were, it was an impossible task, and she cried out and struggled the until the beam thudded against the second, longer beam set into the ground.
Asta breathed hard, breasts heaving up and down with her chest as she looked up and back at the longer beam.
The guards looped ropes around the end of her beam, tossing them up and over the longer beam.
The ropes immediately became taut as they were pulled from a direction Asta could not see.
Her beam began to slide up the longer beam, and she quickly tried to get her feet underneath her to stand.
She needn't have bothered.
Her beam steadily rose, until she was pulled into the air.
She gasped in shock and pain, her wait being taken straight to her wrists and, somewhat, to the ropes binding her upper arms.
Her beam thudded back, falling into a notch cut in the longer beam.
A guard worked behind her to secure the means to one another as she struggled, bound feet attempting to find purchase on the longer beam.
She couldn't breathe, the pain and strain in her arms stealing even her strength to do that.
Another two guards appeared before her, one with two spikes and a mallet.
She realized what was about to happen, and tried to kick out with her bound feet.
The guard without the spikes deftly moved around her weak attack, and grabbed her legs, pulling them up and back against the long beam until her feet were flat against it.
He tied them off after looping the rope around the beam, the second soldier placing a spike against one foot.
She continued to struggle, earning a slap from the first guard across her face. This did little to stop her from trying to free her feet
The guard with the spike adjusted and adjusted again, having a difficult time to fully seek the spike he was trying to place as asta's torn skirt swayed about with her struggles.
The first guard noticed this, and slowly reached up with a wry smile on his face.
He grasped the waistline of her skirt, and Asta ceased her struggles long enough to take a gasping breath in, about to protest.
He ripped the skirt away, causing her to jerk violently against the nails.
This left her fully exposed save for the underwrap covering her sex.
As Asta looked down in shock at her sudden, further exposure, the mallet guard nodded a thanks to the first, and began to hammer the spike in unobstructed.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH PLEEEEEEEAAAASSE!”
Asta screamed, a pleading cry ripping from her throat for the first time since her execution started.
The shock and humiliation of being almost fully naked, coupled with the pain set her so far on edge that she was unable to keep her tough demeanour.
The guard quickly repeated the other foot as she pleaded between cries of pain.
When he finished he withdrew, a disturbed look on his face, though the first guard that had taken her skirt remained.
He cut the ropes around her ankles and forearms, the added weight to the spikes in her wrists and feet making her whimper.
He walked back around to face her, looking over her breasts and shapely legs.
She was almost eye level with him, becoming accustomed enough to the new pain that she could glare at him for what he had done to her.
He laughed at the look of defiance, stepping close and feeling her cheek with his rough knuckles.
He drew back quickly as she bit as his hand, though he moved back to draw his fingers down her chest and between her breasts.
She jerked once, flinched at the pain, and then turned her head away, clenching her teeth and closing her eyes against this violation.
It would only get worse as the guard caressed one breast, and then the other.
He slowly slid his hand down her hard stomach, until his fingers rested just inside the folds of her underwrap.
He ripped it off quickly, causing her to flop forward, and then back again against the beam. Her naked ass felt the cold beam behind her, and she stared out, past the leering guard and the crowd.
All eyes were focused on her, the women looking mockingly on.
The men however, had inexplicable looks on their faces. Hungry, ravenous looks, as if they were animals barely held back by an invisible cage.
Asta looked down at herself, now fully naked.
She had thought losing her bindings was bad. She found it unfathomable how much worse losing her skirt was.
But this...
The feeling she had now wasn't something she could ever describe.
She had never been with a man, had never exposed herself to anyone fully.
Now she had it done to her, no choice, no ability to resist. She was now completely bare for everyone in the city to view. In pain, hung out like meat, naked and powerless.
She couldn't imagine much worse, until she was Luriea’s palanquin approaching from the city.
ShadowWolf
Tribune
I am enjoying the story. It has a good sense of intrigue to it.
morten sigurdson
Voivode of Wallachia
Great story! It would be nice if there will be some illustrations.
Is that "The End"?
Dang everyone, it's been a like a year! So I talked to an artist named Gurgie and got this awesome pic done! Talking to her about doing more and making kinda a picture/story, but I'll need to finish writing the story before anything like that happens.
In the meantime, check out the pic!
In the meantime, check out the pic!
Horseman68
Executioner
To finish writing this little story after over two years would seem an appropriate idea.
I agree, it's just hard to make time to sit and write! I dunno how some folks do it, but I definitely want to try!
Horseman68
Executioner
It is an interesting story. I’m sure that your readers would appreciate knowing it’s end. With the victim already nailed what now happens? Seems too many loose ends in a story with supernatural powers for her to just suffer and die?
It's maybe half over? Lots of stuff left to happen that I planned, just need to find the time to type it out!
Horseman68
Executioner
Looking forward to your continuing in interest.
Heck yeah there is, got a bunch more planned! Unfortunately I've been swamped with work for a while now which has translated into a bit of laziness for other things. I've written a couple other stories, and learned that it's best to relegate myself to shorter one offs so that I can share something complete, due to my hectic schedule. That said, I definitely plan to get to the end of Asta's story!