actually, I already have (which doesn't mean I won't do another) -
it's in Ch XIII, part 4, in my very, very long story
The Interrogation and Punishment Centre for Girls:
http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/the-interrogation-and-punishment-centre-for-girls-eulalia.2601/
4
All the morning, ever since my Torture to Death commenced, my sister Laura and
young friend Marie had been made to watch, standing naked, each held by a
tough Guard who made sure they didn't hide their eyes from any of the horror
they were witnessing. I didn't know what their sentences were, they hadn't been
able to tell me, they'd just been pale and terrified ever since we left the IPCG. Now
Laura was about to learn.
When Buron returned, General Ioannides and Dr. Sheng were with him. When
she saw they were approaching her, Laura went rigid in her Guard's grip, let out a
little shriek of terror. What Ioannides had done with her in the Colonel's
Bedroom had plunged a knife of remembered pain deep into her soul, the very
sight of him was torture.
He took on the role of Director of Punishment. "Name and number?" Laura
responded, hoarse with fear, "492180 Laura Mérida, Sir!" "Repeat your
confession!" She croaked it out, line by line, almost breaking down completely
several times, but glancing up at Ioannides cold eyes she somehow managed to
put it together. Then I heard words that made me retch, bile and phlegm flowing
down my gullet to my upturned mouth, "Your sentence, Laura Mérida, is to be
stretched on this Wheel of Death, tortured and slowly racked, until your body is
broken and torn in pieces."
Laura shrieked in horror, she struggled and almost wrenched herself free from
her captor, but another thug was standing by to grab her arm, and between them
they swung her round and half drove, half carried her up a set of steps on a
mounting block, to the rim of the great Torture Wheel.
Ioannides glanced over at me, snapped to the Engineer, "Turn that cunt so she
can watch her sister suffer!" The Wheel trundled me round, I was upright again,
hanging by my wrists where I could see all too clearly the place where Laura was
about to be martyred.
Her Wheel was about the same size as mine, the hub somewhat higher than the
rim, its spokes covered by a cap of strong wire mesh over which the Guards drove
their victim. They made her stand for a few seconds, astride the hub, while
Ioannides, Sheng and other Officers took up positions on a pair of stands at each
side. Buron accompanied her, he was to be her Executioner as well as mine.
"Sit!" he ordered. Compliant now, she sat down, for the last time in her short life,
on the hub, with her face to the sun, her back to me. As if anticipating, she sat
with her legs straight out before her, wide apart. The pair of Cadets who'd
escorted her on the Parade of Death now checked her wrist-manacles, she held up
her arms obediently, Buron ordered the boys to tighten them so tightly I saw her
wince. Meanwhile the Guards were screwing irons equally firmly onto her ankles.
Soon the last screw was tight.
"Lie back!" Laura lay, her slim, fragile body arched over the hub, she spread her
arms and legs for them, she knew what they required. From four cardinal points
on the rim ran strong steel hawsers with loops in the ends. They were not
attached to the rim, but threaded through apertures, to the mechanism below no
doubt that would turn the Wheel and draw them ever tighter. The chains from the
victim's wrist- and ankle-irons were attached to these cables, all the Execution
Squad withdrew to the platforms at the side. The Engineer had left my Wheel and
positioned himself at a set of controls on the far side of my sister's Wheel.
The sun had broken through the clouds, it was fiercely hot now, searing my bare
scorched skin, Laura's too. It was made all the worse by the heat now coming
from the glowing brazier, standing between my Wheel and hers, I could feel its
heat on my cruelly exposed vulva and my sore, sweating breasts. The Instruments
of Torture now beginning to glow red-hot. To my horror I realised they were
going to be used not on me – not for now at any rate – but on my poor kid sister.
Flies were humming, crawling over her sweat-wet body and ashen face, which was
now looking up at me, her one undamaged eye wide with terror. I could see even
from my Cross her heart drumming her starved-thin rib-cage, her whole body
shaking…
The Executioner saluted, Ioannides nodded, the Engineer pulled a lever, the
Wheel began to turn, slowly, a ratchet sounding click, click, click ... At once the
cables holding Laura's limbs began to shorten, pulling taut, she yelled out "No,
no!" and then a long, shrill cry as the strain began to tear at her shoulders and
loins. At this signal, her two Guards stepped on to the Wheel swinging their
weighted whips, and began scourging her stretched nakedness. She was
screaming, unable to move as she was used to doing when flogged, forced to feel
every blow on her tight muscles.
After they'd given her a dozen or so apiece, they stepped back, and the Engineer
released the mechanism a few clicks, so Laura could relax her muscles slightly
and writhe a little. But it was only a brief respite, soon he pulled again at the lever
and the cables tightened, a little bit further this time, the strain on the victim's
body increased, the pain even worse. And now her Torturers put on thick leather
gauntlets and drew hot, glowing irons from the brazier. They walked leisurely
across the surface of the Wheel, brandishing the fiery instruments, making sure
the girl saw them, then pressed them against the sides of her rib-cage where her
torso was pulled taut. I heard the hiss of burning, the scent of frying skin
reached my nostrils, Laura's moans echoed around the Castle.
Again she was relaxed briefly, tugged tight again, yet tighter still. Now the men
drew a pair of sharp-hooked claws from the fire, with long handles and five blades
each. They used these to rip through her skin just where their first inflictions had
burnt her, slicing ribbons away, exposing pale ribs through bleeding gristle. Her
howling was continuous now, turning wilder, more despairing, when the
Engineer released the tension, she almost leapt in her wild paroxysm of agony,
twisting and rolling, blood cascading from her sides, until she was tugged taut
again, tighter still.
The third torment brought the pincers, savage black monsters with jagged jaws
white-hot. She moaned, shaking her head from side to side as her Torturers
waved them over her, then suddenly gripped at her small, tender breasts, biting
slowly, remorselessly into the flesh till they burst in sizzling gushes of blood and
ooze. Then, for good measure, they used the still hot weapons to squeeze the
muscles of her stretched thighs till they too were skinned and cauterised.
When the Engineer relaxed the tension this time, Laura was less active, her hips
still thrust up in sharp spasms, her legs were shaking violently, but her upper
body was s till, her head rolling helplessly from side to side. I was sure her
shoulders must have been dislocated by the last racking – and soon she had
another, yet worse.
Now Buron himself approached the brazier, gauntlet on his hand, drew a huge
red-hot poker, its destination cruelly obvious. He stationed himself between the
girl's forced-wide thighs, pressed his left hand on her abdomen, and inserted the
vile instrument, performing the most evil act of torture that can be inflicted on a
female body. Laura's scream was so loud it hurt my ears, it should have deafened
her tormentor, but he was grinning as he pushed the poker up and down, twisted
and jiggled it about inside her, delighting in the agony he was causing.
At last he drew it out, dull now but coated with smoking girl-flesh, dripping with
her juices. The cables eased, Laura's hips twisted and rolled again, but her arms
lay quite limp. Buron withdrew, the rack tightened once more, and now it
continued to stretch her more and more, with no more pauses for relaxation. She
was groaning, her body seized with frequent spasms. The two Guards, and two
Cadets, brought hefty iron bars onto the Wheel, and began crashing them onto
her stretched limbs, aiming at her wrists and shins, striking again and again,
mercilessly smashing her frail bones. Her cries were growing weak, but they still
pierced the sultry air.
Suddenly there was a murmur of excitement among the spectating party, and a
fearful howl from Laura, as her left arm ripped clear from her shoulder, blood
spurting from the gaping wound. Her body rolled over on to her right side, now
her right arm was being hauled away from her trunk, her wide-apart legs still
holding her. It wasn't long before that shoulder gave way and the arm sprung free,
dragged by the cable, spattering gore.
Yet she was still alive, still shrieking. The Engineer increased the speed of the
Wheel a little, the ratchet clicked a bit faster, but the stretching of her legs was
still slow and methodical. Her trunk was now twisting and bouncing, bleeding
freely from the torn shoulders. After some minutes, he suddenly paused and
relaxed the tension, Laura heaved her torso with a dying groan, the tension was
rapidly increased again, and I saw my sister torn in two, her left leg and hip
ripped away. A few seconds of death-spasm, then stillness.
There was applause from the visiting dignitaries, a murmur of satisfaction, joined
by the flapping of crows' wings and excited cawing as they crowded impatiently
around the steaming corpse.
