She probably already got a glimpse of her fate when being dragged down the dungeon’s long stairs and corridors, her clothes already ripped down in the castle’s courtyard.
When hearing whimpering, screaming and pleading from far away, seeing naked, chained women in open cells, behind bars. None without traces of torture.
Every third torch was helt by an upside-down suspended woman- stuck in between her legs. They made sure, that no burned-down torch was missed to replace.
The ‘caresses’ of the wardens were only professional: It was their job to measure the needed size of their tools.
She knew it was getting serious soon, when she saw the whips moistured, the pears and the pliers checked and the irons heated. The most frightening were sounds she could not relate, coming from out of her view. Wood was cracking, iron clanging, chains rattling and the smell of glowing coals filled the air.
And another awful scream halled along the thick walls.
It was too late to ponder her situation’s danger.