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Dream Diary

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Ducans said:
For example....here you can imagine what she is saying.... I left the "bubble" empty....
Click to expand...

"Please stop huring me! Please, just let me go! I don't know anything!" She screamed through her pain, the heat from the fire behind her increasing the sweat that slid down her sufferring, outstretched body. Three days later her lifeless form still hung there in that now abandoned cottage by the sea.
 
Ducans said:
For example....here you can imagine what she is saying.... I left the "bubble" empty....
Click to expand...

"Mmmmm, I'm feeling all nice and toasty warm on my back, now what are you going to do about the front?"

Nah, she's probably thinking "AAAAAAAAAaaaaaghhhhhh help help HELP!"
 
Pia said:
And slowly the time passed. I listened to the sounds around me. To the sounds of the other prisoners who I never saw, the sounds of them being dragged to their tortures and back to their cells and the sounds of their moans as they lay in their chains. At some point I must have slept, as I found myself waking to the noise of the lock being opened. An executioner came in. I prepared myself for the torture to start again. But it was not yet time. He simply came to me and gave me a blanket.
'For you. From the Bishop' he said. Then he left.
I pulled the rough cloth over me and let it warm me. And then I opened myself to the truth that I had so carefully hidden from my own mind.
For the priest who was in charge was the Bishop. My guardian. The man who had adopted me and Inma as children. Who had raised us in his palace and had us instructed in all the arts and sciences and who, in recompense, satisfied himself with our bodies whenever he wished. And now he had grown tired. And he knew. He knew that I was reading from the forbidden tracts and that this could harm him and he knew that he could so easily acquire new wards and that his exemplary indifference to my fate would stand him well in the Church. The tassled red cap was already in his sight.
And I opened myself to the other truth. That if I was here, in this cell, in this house of torture, then so was Inma. Her cries were mingled in those of the others along the dark corridor. She too had hung from the strappado. She too would be asked the questions repeatedly. And at this moment I knew that our fate was already decided. We should burn. But I would not give him the satisfaction of a confession. If he wanted one he would have to fabricate it. And I knew that, despite his sins and his ambitions and his transgressions, this is the one lie that would stay with him forever. And I wanted more. I knew I wanted more. And now I would sleep, warm beneath the blanket, and wait for the next day to come.
Click to expand...
I woke to a rough shaking. Looking up I expected the executioner, but it was an woman. A woman in a nun's habit. And with her the doctor who had reset my shoulders before. When before? Was that still yesterday?
She lifted me. I stood, aware of the dirt on my naked body, of the bruises, red, blue and violent, that crept over my shoulders, on the torn flesh on my wrists and ankles.
She spoke kindly to me, then began her work, washing me down with cold water. Then with her razor shaving my sex smooth. Then with her shears roughly cutting my hair until it was nothing but black spikes sticking up from my head and around my ears.
'There, nice and tidy' she said, and shuffled away.
The doctor came to me and asked after my condition. Then raised my arms and felt my body for my pulse and for his pleasure, I suppose.
'You have made a good recovery' he said 'A full day is usually enough for a young girl like you. They can have you back again now I think, don't you agree?
I nodded. 'Yes, yes, if they wish that, they can have me back'
'Good' he said, and left the cell, nodding to the guard to lock me in once again. I knew I would not have long to wait.
 
Pia said:
I woke to a rough shaking. Looking up I expected the executioner, but it was an woman. A woman in a nun's habit. And with her the doctor who had reset my shoulders before. When before? Was that still yesterday?
She lifted me. I stood, aware of the dirt on my naked body, of the bruises, red, blue and violent, that crept over my shoulders, on the torn flesh on my wrists and ankles.
She spoke kindly to me, then began her work, washing me down with cold water. Then with her razor shaving my sex smooth. Then with her shears roughly cutting my hair until it was nothing but black spikes sticking up from my head and around my ears.
'There, nice and tidy' she said, and shuffled away.
The doctor came to me and asked after my condition. Then raised my arms and felt my body for my pulse and for his pleasure, I suppose.
'You have made a good recovery' he said 'A full day is usually enough for a young girl like you. They can have you back again now I think, don't you agree?
I nodded. 'Yes, yes, if they wish that, they can have me back'
'Good' he said, and left the cell, nodding to the guard to lock me in once again. I knew I would not have long to wait.
Click to expand...

Quick question, was shaving all the hair off of a condemned woman the reality also in these tortures? this is where we seperate the fantasy and the reality. In my fantasy, I get to keep my hair, at least.
 
Piper Marie said:
Quick question, was shaving all the hair off of a condemned woman the reality also in these tortures? this is where we seperate the fantasy and the reality. In my fantasy, I get to keep my hair, at least.
Click to expand...
There are reports that this was the case. It would both shame and facilitate certain tortures.... as we may see.... But (unlike the picture...) they were 'kind' enough to leave Joana some hair on her head....1524749103893.png
 
Pia said:
I woke to a rough shaking. Looking up I expected the executioner, but it was an woman. A woman in a nun's habit. And with her the doctor who had reset my shoulders before. When before? Was that still yesterday?
She lifted me. I stood, aware of the dirt on my naked body, of the bruises, red, blue and violent, that crept over my shoulders, on the torn flesh on my wrists and ankles.
She spoke kindly to me, then began her work, washing me down with cold water. Then with her razor shaving my sex smooth. Then with her shears roughly cutting my hair until it was nothing but black spikes sticking up from my head and around my ears.
'There, nice and tidy' she said, and shuffled away.
The doctor came to me and asked after my condition. Then raised my arms and felt my body for my pulse and for his pleasure, I suppose.
'You have made a good recovery' he said 'A full day is usually enough for a young girl like you. They can have you back again now I think, don't you agree?
I nodded. 'Yes, yes, if they wish that, they can have me back'
'Good' he said, and left the cell, nodding to the guard to lock me in once again. I knew I would not have long to wait.
Click to expand...
I didn't.
The executioner came with two other men. They unlocked my chains and dragged me, carried me (for I fell) to the torture chamber. They were waiting for me, sitting at their long table.
'So welcome back Joana. I had hoped that we might avoid another meeting in this place, and if you cooperate, then we might have done with it here and now. What do you say?'
I looked at him in silence. I knew what I wanted.
'I suppose that you have worked out that your cousin is here as well? Hmmm. Two of a pair. Little sweet Inma howled so on the rack. You haven't felt the rack have you Joana? And the hiss.... the hiss.... when the irons were applied to her soft, soft body. But you know all about her body, don't you Joana? Come now, confess and end this for her as well as yourself.'
'I have nothing to confess. I am not the sinner here.'
He rose, red faced. His hand, with the jewelled ring on his finger, slapped the table.
'Enough! You try my patience. Commence!'
I was shuffled over to the part of the chamber where the wooden pyramid had been placed. I could see the ropes and pulleys that hung from the walls and ceiling by it. I knew, I thought I knew, what would happen.
I was forced down to the floor. The first man tied my ankles, held three feet apart, to a wooden bar. Next an iron girdle was placed around my waist and tightened until the metal cut into me. Next they lifted me and tied my wrists beind my back. Next each of these fittings were attached, separately, to the cords that hung from the ceiling and from the walls, so that I could be lifted and moved in any direction, but could not move any part of myself without another moving too.
Next they lifted me. In this hoist there was immediately discomfort, the tension of the ropes pulling on my bent arms, on my belly, into which the girdle pressed, and on my legs, which were pulled tight. Pulled tight outwards, whilst my body was maintained in an unatural position, as if I was sitting in an invisible seat, suspended in the air.
But there was a seat.
And now they positioned it beneath me. The pyramid.
I looked down at the sharp point as they aligned my hanging form with it, and then lowered me so that I was but a few inches above.
'Joana. You can see what will happen next.' He said
'We will drop you. Once, twice, fifteen times. The cradle will hurt, Joana. It will drive into you. But it will be your only place of rest. We will lower you so that it becomes part of you. It will drive into you. Into the place your body is softest. You know that place don't you Joana?'
I closed my eyes. I felt my breathing grow fast, in fear and in anticipation. I felt them lower me so the point just touched me, then felt them move the block so that it kissed the lips of my sex. And then felt them raise me. And drop me. And felt the surge of agony rush through me.
'Higher!' he said
Again
'Higher'
And they repeated this until I felt blood flow along my legs and my breath had turned to a whimpering.
'Joana, let us stop this now. Just confess.'
I shook my head.
'Then we will see how you fare after spending a night sleeping on your cradle.'
And they left. All of them,. Leaving me, the light flickering over my sweat-covered nakedness, hanging there, unable to find comfort, just to find new sources of agony. I gasped and turned and let the pain in again. The agony was awful. And sweet. Alone. With my agony.
 
Pia said:
I didn't.
The executioner came with two other men. They unlocked my chains and dragged me, carried me (for I fell) to the torture chamber. They were waiting for me, sitting at their long table.
'So welcome back Joana. I had hoped that we might avoid another meeting in this place, and if you cooperate, then we might have done with it here and now. What do you say?'
I looked at him in silence. I knew what I wanted.
'I suppose that you have worked out that your cousin is here as well? Hmmm. Two of a pair. Little sweet Inma howled so on the rack. You haven't felt the rack have you Joana? And the hiss.... the hiss.... when the irons were applied to her soft, soft body. But you know all about her body, don't you Joana? Come now, confess and end this for her as well as yourself.'
'I have nothing to confess. I am not the sinner here.'
He rose, red faced. His hand, with the jewelled ring on his finger, slapped the table.
'Enough! You try my patience. Commence!'
I was shuffled over to the part of the chamber where the wooden pyramid had been placed. I could see the ropes and pulleys that hung from the walls and ceiling by it. I knew, I thought I knew, what would happen.
I was forced down to the floor. The first man tied my ankles, held three feet apart, to a wooden bar. Next an iron girdle was placed around my waist and tightened until the metal cut into me. Next they lifted me and tied my wrists beind my back. Next each of these fittings were attached, separately, to the cords that hung from the ceiling and from the walls, so that I could be lifted and moved in any direction, but could not move any part of myself without another moving too.
Next they lifted me. In this hoist there was immediately discomfort, the tension of the ropes pulling on my bent arms, on my belly, into which the girdle pressed, and on my legs, which were pulled tight. Pulled tight outwards, whilst my body was maintained in an unatural position, as if I was sitting in an invisible seat, suspended in the air.
But there was a seat.
And now they positioned it beneath me. The pyramid.
I looked down at the sharp point as they aligned my hanging form with it, and then lowered me so that I was but a few inches above.
'Joana. You can see what will happen next.' He said
'We will drop you. Once, twice, fifteen times. The cradle will hurt, Joana. It will drive into you. But it will be your only place of rest. We will lower you so that it becomes part of you. It will drive into you. Into the place your body is softest. You know that place don't you Joana?'
I closed my eyes. I felt my breathing grow fast, in fear and in anticipation. I felt them lower me so the point just touched me, then felt them move the block so that it kissed the lips of my sex. And then felt them raise me. And drop me. And felt the surge of agony rush through me.
'Higher!' he said
Again
'Higher'
And they repeated this until I felt blood flow along my legs and my breath had turned to a whimpering.
'Joana, let us stop this now. Just confess.'
I shook my head.
'Then we will see how you fare after spending a night sleeping on your cradle.'
And they left. All of them,. Leaving me, the light flickering over my sweat-covered nakedness, hanging there, unable to find comfort, just to find new sources of agony. I gasped and turned and let the pain in again. The agony was awful. And sweet. Alone. With my agony.
Click to expand...


Wow, you really have a way of selling this! the pain, the pleasure! it's making me wish I were you right now....
 
Pia said:
I didn't.
The executioner came with two other men. They unlocked my chains and dragged me, carried me (for I fell) to the torture chamber. They were waiting for me, sitting at their long table.
'So welcome back Joana. I had hoped that we might avoid another meeting in this place, and if you cooperate, then we might have done with it here and now. What do you say?'
I looked at him in silence. I knew what I wanted.
'I suppose that you have worked out that your cousin is here as well? Hmmm. Two of a pair. Little sweet Inma howled so on the rack. You haven't felt the rack have you Joana? And the hiss.... the hiss.... when the irons were applied to her soft, soft body. But you know all about her body, don't you Joana? Come now, confess and end this for her as well as yourself.'
'I have nothing to confess. I am not the sinner here.'
He rose, red faced. His hand, with the jewelled ring on his finger, slapped the table.
'Enough! You try my patience. Commence!'
I was shuffled over to the part of the chamber where the wooden pyramid had been placed. I could see the ropes and pulleys that hung from the walls and ceiling by it. I knew, I thought I knew, what would happen.
I was forced down to the floor. The first man tied my ankles, held three feet apart, to a wooden bar. Next an iron girdle was placed around my waist and tightened until the metal cut into me. Next they lifted me and tied my wrists beind my back. Next each of these fittings were attached, separately, to the cords that hung from the ceiling and from the walls, so that I could be lifted and moved in any direction, but could not move any part of myself without another moving too.
Next they lifted me. In this hoist there was immediately discomfort, the tension of the ropes pulling on my bent arms, on my belly, into which the girdle pressed, and on my legs, which were pulled tight. Pulled tight outwards, whilst my body was maintained in an unatural position, as if I was sitting in an invisible seat, suspended in the air.
But there was a seat.
And now they positioned it beneath me. The pyramid.
I looked down at the sharp point as they aligned my hanging form with it, and then lowered me so that I was but a few inches above.
'Joana. You can see what will happen next.' He said
'We will drop you. Once, twice, fifteen times. The cradle will hurt, Joana. It will drive into you. But it will be your only place of rest. We will lower you so that it becomes part of you. It will drive into you. Into the place your body is softest. You know that place don't you Joana?'
I closed my eyes. I felt my breathing grow fast, in fear and in anticipation. I felt them lower me so the point just touched me, then felt them move the block so that it kissed the lips of my sex. And then felt them raise me. And drop me. And felt the surge of agony rush through me.
'Higher!' he said
Again
'Higher'
And they repeated this until I felt blood flow along my legs and my breath had turned to a whimpering.
'Joana, let us stop this now. Just confess.'
I shook my head.
'Then we will see how you fare after spending a night sleeping on your cradle.'
And they left. All of them,. Leaving me, the light flickering over my sweat-covered nakedness, hanging there, unable to find comfort, just to find new sources of agony. I gasped and turned and let the pain in again. The agony was awful. And sweet. Alone. With my agony.
Click to expand...
Well written, great dream. Wish it will be illustrated:rolleyes:
 
Pia said:
I didn't.
The executioner came with two other men. They unlocked my chains and dragged me, carried me (for I fell) to the torture chamber. They were waiting for me, sitting at their long table.
'So welcome back Joana. I had hoped that we might avoid another meeting in this place, and if you cooperate, then we might have done with it here and now. What do you say?'
I looked at him in silence. I knew what I wanted.
'I suppose that you have worked out that your cousin is here as well? Hmmm. Two of a pair. Little sweet Inma howled so on the rack. You haven't felt the rack have you Joana? And the hiss.... the hiss.... when the irons were applied to her soft, soft body. But you know all about her body, don't you Joana? Come now, confess and end this for her as well as yourself.'
'I have nothing to confess. I am not the sinner here.'
He rose, red faced. His hand, with the jewelled ring on his finger, slapped the table.
'Enough! You try my patience. Commence!'
I was shuffled over to the part of the chamber where the wooden pyramid had been placed. I could see the ropes and pulleys that hung from the walls and ceiling by it. I knew, I thought I knew, what would happen.
I was forced down to the floor. The first man tied my ankles, held three feet apart, to a wooden bar. Next an iron girdle was placed around my waist and tightened until the metal cut into me. Next they lifted me and tied my wrists beind my back. Next each of these fittings were attached, separately, to the cords that hung from the ceiling and from the walls, so that I could be lifted and moved in any direction, but could not move any part of myself without another moving too.
Next they lifted me. In this hoist there was immediately discomfort, the tension of the ropes pulling on my bent arms, on my belly, into which the girdle pressed, and on my legs, which were pulled tight. Pulled tight outwards, whilst my body was maintained in an unatural position, as if I was sitting in an invisible seat, suspended in the air.
But there was a seat.
And now they positioned it beneath me. The pyramid.
I looked down at the sharp point as they aligned my hanging form with it, and then lowered me so that I was but a few inches above.
'Joana. You can see what will happen next.' He said
'We will drop you. Once, twice, fifteen times. The cradle will hurt, Joana. It will drive into you. But it will be your only place of rest. We will lower you so that it becomes part of you. It will drive into you. Into the place your body is softest. You know that place don't you Joana?'
I closed my eyes. I felt my breathing grow fast, in fear and in anticipation. I felt them lower me so the point just touched me, then felt them move the block so that it kissed the lips of my sex. And then felt them raise me. And drop me. And felt the surge of agony rush through me.
'Higher!' he said
Again
'Higher'
And they repeated this until I felt blood flow along my legs and my breath had turned to a whimpering.
'Joana, let us stop this now. Just confess.'
I shook my head.
'Then we will see how you fare after spending a night sleeping on your cradle.'
And they left. All of them,. Leaving me, the light flickering over my sweat-covered nakedness, hanging there, unable to find comfort, just to find new sources of agony. I gasped and turned and let the pain in again. The agony was awful. And sweet. Alone. With my agony.
Click to expand...
I drowned in my pain, letting it swallow me. My mouth bleeding drewl, my lips becoming dry. Blood slowly oozing from me.
At length, at great length, after many hours, they returned.
The priests sat at their long table and looked at me, my body dripping in its evil sling, my sex raw and red on the cradle.
'Perhaps you have had enough now Joana. Your sweet cousin has had enough. My dear doctor friend has told me that we must stop with her if she is to be alive for her death. A little joke, Joana. And you too it seems. Almost. You will argue that the Inquisition may torture but not deliberately spill blood, is this not true? That is why we use the ropes and the cradle and water and hot irons. But on this occassion, just on this occassion, I feel that it would be churlish to deny you some blood-letting. What do you say?'
I raised my head. I couldn't speak. I nodded. I didn't care. I wanted whatever he was going to do.
'Take her down and tied her spread-eagled from the chains. Arms and legs apart.'
They did as he said. I groaned in agony as they moved me from the cradle. My body had been torn into. Torn apart.
They tied me up, as he said.
'As you will not confess, I shall enjoy a little pleasure. Not too much, as my taste is delicate. Not too much as we want you too alive for your death, don't we Joana?'
I looked at him, I smiled at him.
'Executioner, whip her. Whip her until she bleeds. Whip her back, whip her breasts. Make her sob in torment. Make her body bleed!'
And that is what the executioner did. With his whip of knotted strands, his whip that he washed in a tub of cold water again and again. A tub of water that slowly turned red with my blood. Ripping into my flesh. Tearing screams from my heart. Screams of agony and pleasure. He would never know. He would never understand.
 
Pia said:
I drowned in my pain, letting it swallow me. My mouth bleeding drewl, my lips becoming dry. Blood slowly oozing from me.
At length, at great length, after many hours, they returned.
The priests sat at their long table and looked at me, my body dripping in its evil sling, my sex raw and red on the cradle.
'Perhaps you have had enough now Joana. Your sweet cousin has had enough. My dear doctor friend has told me that we must stop with her if she is to be alive for her death. A little joke, Joana. And you too it seems. Almost. You will argue that the Inquisition may torture but not deliberately spill blood, is this not true? That is why we use the ropes and the cradle and water and hot irons. But on this occassion, just on this occassion, I feel that it would be churlish to deny you some blood-letting. What do you say?'
I raised my head. I couldn't speak. I nodded. I didn't care. I wanted whatever he was going to do.
'Take her down and tied her spread-eagled from the chains. Arms and legs apart.'
They did as he said. I groaned in agony as they moved me from the cradle. My body had been torn into. Torn apart.
They tied me up, as he said.
'As you will not confess, I shall enjoy a little pleasure. Not too much, as my taste is delicate. Not too much as we want you too alive for your death, don't we Joana?'
I looked at him, I smiled at him.
'Executioner, whip her. Whip her until she bleeds. Whip her back, whip her breasts. Make her sob in torment. Make her body bleed!'
And that is what the executioner did. With his whip of knotted strands, his whip that he washed in a tub of cold water again and again. A tub of water that slowly turned red with my blood. Ripping into my flesh. Tearing screams from my heart. Screams of agony and pleasure. He would never know. He would never understand.
Click to expand...
'Enough' he shouted. 'I don't want her dead. Not yet. Take her away, make her ready. I need no more. I have confessions from others. The law is satisfied. Take her away. She can wait for the auto da fé with the others. She will enjoy her peace for a little while'
And they released me.
I collapsed onto the floor, my body beautifully torn.
They took me to the cell, where the woman who had shaved me washed me once more. The doctor looked at my wounds and told her to bring salt and vinegar to disinfect them. She rubbed it into me. I fainted.
It was a long time before I woke, lying on the straw in the dark cell, my wrists and ankles bound in chains.
My body seethed in pain. My limbs, my sex, my flesh.
And the days and nights passed.
Two weeks, maybe three.
Bowls of water and gruel and barley bread.
They were keeping me alive to kill me.
 
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