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You never please everyone...That wasn't my goal either.
Of course, four pillories are a bit exaggerated, but I found it interesting to describe four very different variants... You don't have to take this story seriously, but that's the way it is with many stories. The main thing is that some of you like it and I enjoyed writing.
True - and it works if you imagine that the officials and townsfolk of the past were as kinky as the people of CruxForums, I guess.

Certainly it's very skilfully written.


Appendix VI – The Flogging

After the desecration before and the pussy torture on the last pillory, I have great difficulty even going, but the guards pull and push me on to the place where the whip awaits me at the gates of the city. In addition to the pain, I'm now also hungry and thirsty; I haven't eaten or drunk anything since this morning.

Fortunately for me, the way here is not far from the fence that tormented me as the last pillory. Many people have gathered here and in front of me I see two trees with ropes already hanging to tie my arms.

In the morning I was most afraid of the whip, but I had to experience how terrible every hour was that I have been locked in the pillory... And how cruelly I was exposed, tortured, beaten and violated… Now I feel weak but composed as they tie me still naked between the trees.

Waiting for the whip... Before pain comes fear

I'm just hanging on the ropes with outstretched arms to receive my final punishment here, when the wind is tearing up the dark clouds again. The spring sun, which is already deep, shines in my face; it blinds me and begins to warm me comfortably. I know that I'm now perfectly exposed to the gaze of the audience, but what is more important to me is that I don't have to recognize people so clearly myself.

Once again the representative of the court proclaims, "As atonement for seduction, fornication and adultery, the sinner Hildegard is to receive twelve lashes on the back with her naked body." In front of me I see the strong guy with a long leather whip who will beat me. He looks me up and down before standing behind my back. I fearfully await the first blow.

Suddenly I hear the whip howl through the air. I flinch before the leather strap sweeps over both of my shoulder blades and the end of the whip bites into my armpit. "Uuuuhhhhaaaa" The pain is so intense that I arch back and throw myself forward. The ropes on my arms are pulling me back; I dance with my feet and my breasts bounce violently to the delight of the audience.

I tense up and cramp, I moan and I pant. I like it or not, I don't have the air to scream. "One!"

The second blow does not take long. I hear the whip; I feel a dull scarf and then an intense, fiery pain that runs from my right shoulder diagonally down my back to my left loin. Again I frantically pull the ropes, screech briefly and dance on my ropes in front of the audience before I regain control. "Two!"

Lashes 'three' ... 'four' ... 'five' also tear my back and flood me with pain. I throw myself on the ropes, jump and dance after every blow before I scream briefly, then moan and gasp... Seven more.

The following two blows tear over my injured bottom. I yelp and jump, the pain is so intense that I cry. "Seven!" I'm already exhausted on the ropes when I expect the eighth blow.

The leather howls, it hits me on the costal arches on my right side and rushes from there to the front over both of my breasts, which are brutally hit on the underside. My tits jump upwards and bounce wildly.

The attack is so violent and surprising that I screech for a long time. The pain floods my boobs, I frantically gasp for air, my knees become weak and my whole body trembles. I'm struggling to get back on my feet.

"Oh no… Not my boobs! That's not the backside," I beg and protest when I regain my strength.

"The sinner complains, the blow was not carried out correctly... Her complaint is granted; the eighth blow must be repeated!" The court officer shouts and the people laugh in glee.

It's a vicious meanness that makes me despair; that's wrong, I’m shocked...

Again the whip howls through the air and again the strap rages on my front up to both of my boobs. This time the leather bites cruelly into the bud of my right breast and catches the left on the top.

The force of the blow makes my tits shake violently. To me the blow is vicious and tremendously painful, but to the observer my boobs seem to bounce gracefully and almost joyfully. My breasts have never hurt so badly. I scream until I can't breathe.

The audience applauds and demands an 'encore' for my tits.

The whip winds up to the front of the sinful seductress and viciously bites her breasts. She may ask for a repetition, or she has to accept it...

"Oh no, not the breasts again ..." "Was that a protest?" At the last moment I remember "No, just a request... The blow was correct!" "Really correct?" I nod.

The spectators laugh again, but the officer calls out: “Eight!” The blow counts, four more...

I am dazed by the pain, but I still feel the next blows cruelly. 'Nine' and 'ten' ravage my back; 'eleven' burns my bum.

The last blow, then I survived it, but I suspect another, vicious attack. And so it happens, the strap bites under my right armpit and from there rushes over the top of both of my breasts. I jump up one more time, the ropes pull me back and my breasts bounce wildly. I screech hoarsely and then struggle to keep myself on my feet.

“No protest?” The court officer asks me underhandedly, but I shake my head. "Correct blow? I saw the strap on your boobs!" "It doesn't matter, correct blow!" I won't be fooled a second time.

There is stormy applause for the man with the whip, but also shouts of encore. "The last blow was not correct, it has to be repeated," some of the spectators shout. “The sinner girl accepted all the blows; her repentance is complete,” says the judge, and bows. He also gets applause.

Pain and despair are written on her face, but Hildegard has finally endured all her cruel punishments...

With a bloody back I am finally freed as a sinner who has done her penance; but I fall on my knees and cannot even put on my skirt and shirt by myself, which they hand to me. As if dazed, I crouch on the floor and cover myself with my clothes.

Suddenly I see my two younger sisters; they are comforting me and help me to get dressed. They support me to get up on both sides, they give me water to drink and they take me home. And they are not ashamed of me, which gives me courage.

"You are strong, Hildegard. There are many people who recognize how bravely you got through your punishments!" I hardly want to believe it, but for the first time I smile fleetingly on this horrific day.

The sun sets red, the wind blows cold and my shirt is bloody when my mother receives me... But none of that matters now. I have survived my cruel sentence.

I am no longer a child, but I am glad that I have a family that still looks after and comforts me. A hot soup is waiting for me, which I greedily slurp before carefully washing myself. Exhausted, I fall into bed. But how should I lie down? My back is burning and my boobs are throbbing. My pussy is swollen; I can't even touch it without crying...

There follows a conclusion how Hildegard finds her way back to life...


Very clever of you Barb! The only choice that lets you sit down. More comfortable AND protects your tight little ;)
Yes, that was certainly the most comfortable of all the uncomfortable pillories ... and a good choice.
Nevertheless, in my story there were vicious blows on the soles of her feet in this variant.
But of course that was only intended as a morning warm-up for poor sinner Hildegard...


The conclusion has become a little longer, so two more chapters follow. In doing so, I pull the bow back a little to the main story...

Appendix VII Dangerous Adventures

Cooled down by the wind for hours, I get a violent fever, the whiplash wounds only want to heal slowly, my vulva has become infected and after all the rapes and violations I have a bad infection in my vagina. I have burning itching and purulent drains that smell unpleasant. I still feel dirty and after the hard pushes of the men deep into my lap I can feel a dull tug in my abdomen for days. It seems to me as if God wanted to punish me for my fornication in the pillory, even though I was forced to do so. “Sin remains sin,” says my mother, who takes care of me. She scares me, instead of calming me down.

I feel like I'm going to die and the thought doesn't even scare me. I can only get back on my feet with difficulty. But maybe God will understand that I have suffered and atone enough, and the disease will ultimately prevent an unwanted pregnancy, which would bring me even more misery and shame...

After I got over the fever, the burning pain in my back and the bad itching of my vagina, my physical condition slowly improves, but my menstrual period stops and I am very worried. My fear grows day by day, I feel sadness and despair. When I finally feel a pull one morning inside my uterus and I'm bleeding between my legs, a heavy load falls from me. I am so relieved, after weeks I suddenly feel happy again and I get hope...

But as a young widow and adulteress who was pilloried four times, was publicly violated, whipped naked and chastised, the shame for me in this city is almost unbearable. Worst of all is the thought of not knowing which men raped me at the pillory...

Surely there are people here who accept that I have been severely punished for my sins and have repented. I have even been approached by complete strangers who told me how brave I was and that they felt sorry for me. But these are only a few...

Many women look at me contemptuously, but some men smile kindly or grin. That scares me because I don't know whether they only saw me naked in the pillory and under the whip ... or whether they fucked me. I can't stand the looks of pious women who think they're better people. But the looks of the men frighten me. I tremble when they smile at me, even if they might just be showing pity. I hide; I sew and embroider in my room. I hardly dare to leave the house, even though it's getting summer.

In church I am greeted as a 'repentant sinner' and have to kneel down on the floor at the back. After that, I will not go to mass again and I will only pray secretly. My younger sisters Irmgard and Inge keep trying to encourage me, but I see my brother Hugo with worried looks.

As a woman says to my face, “Get out of my sight, whore!” I decide: I can't live like this! Never again I’ll find the respect I seek here. Even the few people who spoke to me and gave me courage did it when no one else was watching ... They don't want to be seen with me either...

Here I will forever depend on my parents and siblings to look after me. Here, at some point, after a life without joy, I will die in grief and sorrow.

Hildegard feels ashamed and hides from people whose looks are frightening her... But she can't live like that

So Hildegard moves away to seek her happiness elsewhere; but that was a very dangerous adventure for a young woman traveling alone at that time. Several times she has to make ends meet as a whore in order to get some money, food, help or protection...

Full of hope, I set off with some money and the bare minimums that I pack in a bag that I carry over my back. I'm moving away to where nobody knows me.

I experience friendly people, but also those who despise me as a weak woman or who want to take advantage of me. Finally I find Bruno, a monk who lives as a hermit at an old water mill. He understands my need, he helps me and I will soon trust him. He tells me, "You can stay with me for a while if you keep your distance and live as chastely as I do."

I don't have any problem with that, on the contrary, he gives me a little security and he doesn't press me as a women, he's a good friend. Bruno doesn't speak much, but he is happy when I entertain him. On a rainy day he says to me: "On cloudy days, your beautiful face is like the sun to me ..." Unfortunately, I don't immediately understand what that means.

Something changed him, suddenly I'm no longer the sun for him; he wants to see a witch in me. Through 'evil sorcery' I arouse desires inside him that he has renounced. But I don't know anything about it and I still trust him. One day I feel restless and I come back earlier from my tour through meadows, forests and the nearby village. Is it a premonition?

When I get to the watermill, I notice that Bruno is not alone. My subconscious warns me to be careful. So I hear Bruno's absurd accusations against me, but also like a somber-looking inquisitor says, "We'll come early tomorrow morning, arrest Hildegard and prepare her torture." Then I see Bruno accept a silver coin. "There's more when we've got her in chains ... even more when the witch is burned," the gloomy man says.

"Please don't torture the girl so severely," I hear Bruno say, but the inquisitor replies: "She’s a wicked witch, she must be tormented viciously!"

Bruno's betrayal shakes me. I know what threatens witches ... Not just the pyre, before that the torture awaits me. In dire need I grab my sack and run away. I can escape before they pick me up, ask the embarrassing question, and torture me to the point of confession.

Evil accusations and flight in dire straits ... because she kindles feelings in a monk that shouldn't exist... Hildegard cannot really trust anyone. (The picture is taken from the cover of the novel 'The Witch of Zeil')

I run, choose remote paths, I hide in the forest. Fortunately for me, nobody knows where I've gone. I eat mushrooms and berries, and only three days later do I dare to go back to a village to buy bread and cheese. But I realize that as a strange woman, I always attract attention.

I move on restlessly, I don't choose straight stretches, looking for places where they don't look for me, where definitely nobody knows me. But as a young woman who travels around alone and without protection, I find little respect and dangers lurk everywhere.

The thought haunts me that in the eyes of some people I am not just a sinner girl - who has atoned - but that they see me as a witch. A traveling preacher speaks to me in a friendly manner and gives me something to eat. I'm careful and tell little about myself. He showers me with Bible texts, and then he explained to me: “You are a young widow; you are particularly in danger to be seduced by the devil. Take care of yourself... only a life of strict chastity may help and save you!"

He gives me advice on how to behave. When men desire me, I should turn away and whip my seductive breasts with thin twigs until the pain turns into cozy warmth ... When I feel the sinful lust of my thighs, I should torment my pussy with nettles, thorns or thistles until I feel deeply relieved and chaste again...

"You have to punish yourself seriously to get back purity and chastity."

More out of curiosity than concern, I try to follow his advice. I know severe pain in my breasts and between my legs, so I don't have to be afraid. I start carefully, but it hurts. It must hurt! I will continue. First I hit thin twigs against my breasts, first gently, then more and more severely until my breasts glow. Then it's time for my pussy to atone. I push thistles between my legs and squeeze them together. I push the thistles into my pussy, first a little, then deeper; and again I close my legs. Oh, that really hurts!

Finally I reach for the burning nettles. I protect my hands, but first I hit the breasts then my pussy. Everything bites and burns, but actually I feel good afterwards... But more because I had the courage to voluntarily repent... I also want to prick myself with thorns, but I give up, it hurts too much.

After a few more attempts, I avoid nettles, thistles, thorn bushes and whipping branches again. The good feeling never lasts long; then it itches, burns and bites again... Worse still, my pussy demands even more attention and she wants to be comforted. Instead, I seek calm and prayer.

The preacher scares me, I'm moving on. Some days calm, others as if rushed and rejected. I'm wandering from one place to another. I'm often hungry, but I still try not to steal. Even as a thief, I am flogged and I don't want to arouse people's anger. Sometimes I enjoy my freedom, but often sorrow and worries cloud my mind.

Hildegard hides, she's tormented by hardship and worries; she feels rejected by people. Often she has fears from which she cannot escape.

It is summer; I sleep somewhere on the edge of the field, but I am watched on my way and secretly followed. Two guys come over one evening and rape me. One threatens me with a knife, while the other one rips open my shirt and then my skirt.

"Show us what you have to offer", with these words my long undershirt is also torn. "Oh no, my only clothes," I think, startled. The sun has already set, but in the light of dusk they stare at me enthusiastically. “You are a godsend,” says one.

They ask me if I will submit my fate. Terrified, I nod my forced consent. I stay on the ground and open my legs. "Smart girl... Wow, your tits aren't bad, really more than I expected!" The other says. Then they use me and play with my fears.

The first lies down on me and rams brutally and deeply into my pussy, he kneads and presses my breasts. I feel he wants to hurt me, he wants to possess me. I am completely dry, my vagina is cramping, and everything is fighting inside me. It really hurts. I try to accept it; I try to relax, even though I don't want to. But it is better to be endured that way.

I feel how he is pushing deep into me again and again, as if he wants to pierce me. And again I feel his rough hands kneading my breasts like bread dough. When I ask whoever is lying on top of me not to be so rude, he pinches my nipples viciously until I moan. "Do you like it better that way?"

When I shake my head, he continues to fuck me hard and kneads deep into my boobs again. I'm filled with fear and pain. Finally the brutal guy moans satisfied and rolls away from me.

The second guy is a bit calmer and less rude, but he too wants to dominate me; he keeps making me kiss him. When I turn my head away, the other scratches my nipples with the knife.

"Come on, kiss!" I obey. "Good thing, good girl..."

“Stay calm, be nice to us and do what we ask!” “Oh please ...” “Be quiet! All girls can make men happy... If you are well behaved, nothing will happen to you!"

When both of them have violated me, I think that they are satisfied and I fearfully hope that they will leave me alone. I am wrong. “We don't find a girl like you at the edge of the forest every day!”

I have to turn around and they fuck me from behind again. The brutal guy chokes me; he demands that I move my ass. A little later he lies heavily on my back, licking and biting my neck. How should I move? I'm afraid and I try.

Time goes by infinitely slowly while I'm lying on the hard and cold ground, he fucks me from behind and I have to move my ass for him. He grunts and says he wants to fuck me like this all night. When he finally comes, he chokes me again. I lie there, completely exhausted. My squeezed boobs hurt, my pussy feels torn.

But the other also wants his 'right'. He tells me to be grateful that they take so much time with me and are 'nice' to me. For him I have to squat on all fours and he pushes my hips back and forth so that I fuck him. My boobs wobble in the moonshine and again my pussy starts to burn. I just wish that I finally get through it.

When they're done with me, I'm left careless. I stay on the ground sobbing and crying. "Come on, girl; don't pretend... You liked it!" The quieter guy in says parting, the other only shouts disparagingly, "You were a really good fuck, girl!"

I don't want to be a good fuck... I didn't like anything! But I didn't scream or fight back. I was so scared and they brutally intimidated me. But for the judge it wasn't rape, I was just 'pushed' a bit, but in the end it was 'voluntary' and I was a sinner girl again. I won’t go to the judge or the police ... I’m expecting no right; rather another, unjust punishment for fornication... And maybe they are still looking for me as an escaped witch.


The last chapter gave me the idea of a little insert; there will be the conclusion tomorrow!

Appendix VIII – A self-imposed Penance

I hide deeper in the forest so no one can find me. Then I cry half the night and feel so worthless ... It could have been a lot worse. The guys didn't try to kill me; they didn't kidnap me to sell me as a whore. They tore my skirt and shirt, but it can be sewn together, but they didn't steal from me. They just wanted to have fun ... but that wasn't just about sex, they also wanted to have power over me as a woman. To them, as a girl wandering around alone, I was 'outlawed' and a good fuck to take away.

In the morning I hear voices, there are three guys who are obviously looking for me. Not only have I been raped, I've also been betrayed. I'm very scared and hide in the bushes as best I can... In fact, they won't find me a second time. When they have given up, I take refuge on a hill, from where I can over-fade the landscape. I'm still exhausted and scraps of thoughts from my rapes are racing through my brain.

Again I feel abused, humiliated and polluted. Am I getting sick again? Who should care for me here? Most of all I worry about getting pregnant. My boobs, pussy and lap will hurt for a few more days, but that's not so important now. I have to sew my torn clothes together if I don't want to run around half-naked. It makes me sad, but it also distracts me.

"Fornication is fornication," said my mother. I wonder if I should atone again. I no longer want to suffer for the sins of men who desire me even though I have not attracted them... And yet, I do not want to anger God again. So I choose a painful penance the next day.

My pussy and breasts have suffered a lot. I want to spare them and decide to hit my back with a rod. But I quickly realize that I cannot haggle with God. I don't want to get sick or get pregnant... The more I struggle inside, the more inevitable it becomes that I have to do real penance... And that means I have to punish my boobs and pussy. These are my feminine areas that have attracted men, even if I didn't want them to.

It's blackberry season, time for delicious berries, but also for very prickly branches. The next morning I look for a couple of fresh, but really vicious twigs, which I cut to the appropriate length with the knife: 3 long, soft prickly branches for the breasts, a short, thick piece for the pussy. I tie threads on both sides of the long twigs, which I knot to two branches of a tree that are at the right height.

Blackberries, sweet fruits, but really vicious thorns ... suitable for intense penance!

I know it's going to get violent now; it cannot be compared with thistle or nettle. The thorns are long and really pointy. My poor boobs, I think and begin to caress my breasts forgivingly. I carefully slip between the tied thorn twigs and the tree trunk. I carefully distribute the prickly branches in parallel on my breasts, one over the top, the second over the middle and my sensitive buds, and the third over the underside of my boobs. I push myself forward a little so that the thorns press into my boobs and nothing slips. "Uuuhhhhh ..." That stings, but it's not enough.

I close my eyes and slowly let myself fall forward. "Aaaiiiiuuuuhhhhh ..." I can't breathe from the intense pain, but I press myself harder against the prickly branches until I feel the thorns penetrate. I gasp and taste the stabbing pain. Finally I give myself a strong push forward. The threads tear; twigs and thorns prick even deeper into my tender breasts and cling to my boobs. It's a very intense feeling of pain, I have to breathe deeply, but I can take it.

With a jerk I pull the thorns from my breasts. I have to scream and moan for a long time. Blood drips from my boobs, but I feel relieved. My breasts are throbbing but I survived the first serious penance.

WTS-11-3f.jpg WTS-11-3g.jpg
An involuntary thorn variant of penance from an old Jess Franco film with rose branches (the young novice has to put on her dress and spend a very painful day...)

Now it's the pussy’s turn. I am afraid of this new test. I play with my fingers between my legs to get a feel for the uninjured pussy. With a sigh, spread my thighs wide, pull the labia apart and slide the short but vicious piece of thorn between them. It stings my fingers, but my pussy complains even more violently. But repentance is repentance and God should hear me. I pray for a moment, then things get serious. The thorn branch is pressed deeper into my vulva; I carefully bring my labia together over it.

"Uuuhhhhaaahhh ..." Oh, no, the pain is so intense… Tears well up in my eyes. Crouching on the floor, I look around again that nobody is around and is watching me. Then I look to the sky; I want God to watch. Finally I let myself roll over onto my back and slide the lower end of the thorn branch between my ass cheeks to the exit of my anus. Again it pokes viciously, but I won't let myself be deterred.

Now is the time to be brave. I concentrate, count to three; then press my thighs and ass cheeks tightly together. I moan and I yelp, the pain is extremely intense and cruel. I'm out of breath and I'll wait until I've calmed down a bit. I carefully try to get up with the branch between my legs and I succeed.

I take my legs apart very slowly. The branch of thorns gets stuck. I try to take a few steps with this; it's hell. Anyway, I'll keep going until I've suffered enough. It's just as painful to free myself from the thorns. The blood is also dripping between my legs. Exhausted and yet satisfied with myself, I lie down in the soft moss. Finally I get dressed again and set off with my things. I leave a few broken thorns in my flesh to remind myself.

I am proud and feel good. The different, stabbing pain distracts me from the thoughts of my terrible experiences. During my next rest, I pick blackberries again, but I avoid the thorny bushes; I have atoned intensely. I hope that God or the saints will finally stand by me and forgive me.

Only in the evening do I use my fingers and a needle to pull the last broken thorns out of my skin. It's painful and tedious. But I am determined to atone even more. I look for a long, flexible rod and hit it over and over my bare back, alternating left and right. I count to twelve and then again to twelve. I'm finally satisfied with my penance and lie on the floor exhausted.

Hildegard punishes herself to atone for forced sins

Heaven understands, I stay healthy and this time too I won't get pregnant!

From now on I am even more careful where I sleep and I check carefully whether I am being followed. Nevertheless, I submit to necessities; for some money, protection and good food, I also give myself to another man. What honor should I pay attention to as a woman sill now? I don't want to be a whore or get pregnant ... It remains dangerous for me to get involved with men. Too many see me as fair game to hunt, as a whore or a witch. But I have to regain my strength, even if I have to repent afterwards. I'm still looking for a secure place in life.

Tired of running away, I speak to a farmer. I'm lucky and he offers me to work as a maid. For little money, a place to sleep and some food, I have to toil for him; but this work finally offers me some security again.

It doesn't stop at work. Suddenly he comes to me at night and also wants my 'thigh services'. "You won't regret it," he whispers to me. "If you're nice to me, I'll give you more money and you don't have to work so hard." I feel too weak and tired to fight back... And his offer is certainly tempting... Reluctantly, I let the married farmer fuck me.

Hildegard should do more for the farmer than just work hard...

He's not being rude to me and maybe I could have used his desire and offer to my advantage. But as a punished adulteress, this would be a highly dangerous game for me. If they get us, I'll be the guilty seductress for sure. I don't want to be in the pillory or under the whip again. Least of all I don't want to have a red-hot iron on my breast to experience pain and shame ... and to warn all men what a dangerous seductress I am. It would be even worse if I have to face the witch's torture because I not only seduced the poor man with my feminine charms, but I have 'bewitched' him.

The next morning I run away very early, even if I don't know where to go. In the evening I whip my body with nettles. It's intense, but no thorns get stuck, break off and ignite...

I experience new things again, find a little happiness here and there, but more I experience fear and need. Sometimes I despair, feel aimless and without hope. Nevertheless, I keep fighting and somehow make my way through.

A word about self -punishment that Hildegard practices: In the Middle Ages, this wasn't a SM game, but a serious and quite common way of repenting. Even kings and emperors did so (not with blackberry branches, but with a whip that was hit over the shoulders on the back - but I thought prickly blackberry branches to be more erotic). Hildegard's method of penance for contraception is, however, very risky and not worth emulating...
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I experience new things again, find a little happiness here and there, but more I experience fear and need. Sometimes I despair, feel aimless and without hope. Nevertheless, I keep fighting and somehow make my way through.
Still up in the air... is this a traumatic backstory, or the tale of a short and cursed life?


Still up in the air... is this a traumatic backstory, or the tale of a short and cursed life?
It's a cursed life over long distances, but it doesn't have to be short and it can turn out for the better...
Hildegard is an attractive young woman and she just has to find someone who really likes her and doesn't want to take advantage of her... But as a young widow in those days she has to watch out for fanatics who saw the work of witches everywhere...
It remains a dangerous game for Hildegard to travel around alone.


It's a cursed life over long distances, but it doesn't have to be short and it can turn out for the better...
Hildegard is an attractive young woman and she just has to find someone who really likes her and doesn't want to take advantage of her... But as a young widow in those days she has to watch out for fanatics who saw the work of witches everywhere...
It remains a dangerous game for Hildegard to travel around alone.
Yes. The final answer will come soon.


Appendix IX – The End of Hildegard’s Escape

I am always afraid of being abused as a woman. Although I love my beautiful hair and my well-filled breasts, I hide my hair under a headscarf like a married woman and I tie my breasts girlishly flat with the chest band ... even if I hate to hide my beauty. Every Friday I punish my breasts with nettles in the evening. It stings and bites my boobs, it's very yeasty... But I'm getting used to this ritual ... it makes me feel like I'm repenting and it gives me the timing for each week that goes by. I'm already thinking about what to do in winter.

I keep roaming around, not without a goal, but without a clear path ... I don't want to stand out, but sometimes I do attract attention. Most of all, I'm afraid of hidden witch hunters. I meet a wandering priest who goes from place to place and proclaims it with ardent zeal: “Be careful, witches lurk everywhere who are up to mischief. They must be recognized, caught and sentenced to the stake. Only a burned witch can no longer cause harm. Every hint is rewarded and welcome! "

He offers everyone a silver shilling for solid allegations against a witch; three shillings for catching suspicious women like me and handing them over to the traveling inquisitor. He promises three more shillings if the accused confesses and is burned as a witch... Then he shows a copy of a papal bull that legitimizes all of this and he threatens all the accused witches with torture in order to laboriously snatch them from the devil and bring them to a 'liberating' confession...

Startled, I run away, hide and rush on again. But I almost run into the inquisitor's arms. I come to a village that looks familiar to me, and I'm surprised to find that I've been walking in a big loop for the last few weeks and I'm crossing my previous path here. I realize with discomfort that Bruno's watermill is only a few days' walk away. I thought I was now far, far away from that place that still scares me.

When I buy some fresh bread, an older woman says to me in a very friendly but ambiguous manner: "It seems to me that you are a stranger here ... No matter what your plans are, a witch is burned here today, you should see that... Maybe it can be a lesson to you. The witch is about as old and beautiful as you!” I don't want to see that and leave the village, but as if magically attracted by my own fears, I come back to see the horror in the early evening.

I stay in the background and feel great discomfort. But so many people have gathered, they have come here from all over the area, so that I don't even attract any attention. A young woman whom they call a witch is dragged in chains ... She is insulted, spat at and shouted at. I've seen it myself and I feel even more miserable.

The witch's face shows only deep fear and terror. She is pushed and dragged onto the pyre, then, with her hands raised, chained to the stake waiting for her.

The inquisitor takes the floor ... I recognize him, it is the gloomy man to whom Bruno, who was a friend of mine, betrayed me for a piece of silver ... Who wanted to give me over to the torturers for three shillings and for six shillings I should be brought to the stake. The man in a clergyman's robe with a pair of badges announces the despicable deeds of the young witch and her verdict that she must be burned alive.

WTS-12-9a.jpg WTS-12-9b.jpg
To entertain the guests, a bare-breasted young woman dances as a paid seductress ... But in the eyes of fanatics, she is a witch (idea and image excerpts from the TV film 'The Puppeteers')

Suddenly I think this woman who is about to burn here is a beautiful young widow like me. She has bewitched godly men with her magic, seduced and thrown into misery just because she danced bare-breasted in front of her eyes ... Certainly she only did it out of necessity for some money, maybe she was even forced ... I could stand here in her place and burn at the stake.

She is said to have given herself to the devil in carnal lust and fornication with him ... But is that true? She doesn't look like a witch to me. I'm sure that would change her, make her somehow dark. She is just a shadow of herself and yet I see the face of a young woman who is completely scared but not possessed by the devil.

At sunset they light the fire with torches. I see the flames shoot up; I'm terrified myself. When I hear her screams, I'm deeply shocked. As the hem of her dress catches fire, I hear her screech and see how she pulls her chains and writhes desperately at the stake. But people look spellbound at the spectacle that the witch offers them. The flames bare the young woman up to her waist. But soon her whole dress will burn. I feel in her place, I tremble with fear and suddenly I run away.

I keep looking around to make sure no one is following me, but people are busy with what is going on at the stake. On the next hill I look back, I see the smoke rising to the sky and recognize the glow of the burning pyre against the twilight sky. Even from a distance I can still hear the desperate screams of the young witch very softly.

I run into the night, stumble and rush on. Completely out of breath and exhausted, I hide somewhere in the forest. I don't like the fresh bread and I spend a restless, rather cold late summer night outdoors.

The next morning everything around me seems so peaceful, the forest, the meadows, the next village on my way. And yet I'm scared. In penance, I stroke my breasts with nettles until I feel fire. I pull my headscarf even lower over my face and squeeze my breasts even flatter, almost until it hurts. I don't want to attract attention; I don't want to seduce anyone with my feminine charms. And yet, it becomes more and more clear to me, I have to attract someone who means well to me.

I wander around for weeks. I'm more careful not to run in circles, but I have no real goal. I sleep somewhere in the sheepfold, in the hay, in a barn, in an abandoned shed ... I freeze in the wind and hide from the rain. I wash in the cold water of a stream when it gets dark. I'm nowhere long. Soon my money will be used up, my clothes are torn, and I’m desperate. The cool autumn begins, which will be followed by the cold winter...

No nettles tonight... I've suffered enough!

As if by a miracle I meet Winfried at a small pond, where I am trying to catch fish. I haven't seen him, but he speaks to me and I'm scared at first. He looks at me, recognizes my need and my worries. He takes off my headscarf and opens my hair; then he caresses my cheek and asks: “Where are you from? You are a beautiful girl... Why are you alone?"

He takes me into his house and he takes care of me. Suddenly I feel safe and secure. Later he also peeled off my chest band and is enthusiastic about the 'treasures' I was trying to hide ... He asks me in amazement why I flatten my beautiful boobs. We love us and it is from the heart.

Winfried is a skilled and respected blacksmith, even if he is a little cross-eyed. He doesn't ask much about my past. I tell him the bare minimum and he is satisfied with it. “God brought us together,” he says, and I am allowed to stay with him. His wife also died early, like my first husband.

Winfried falls in love with me immediately and we get married a little later. He will be a faithful and good man to me who respects me. I will become a mother without fears and Winfried will lovingly care for me and for our children together. And soon the people of his village begin to respect me as his immigrant wife.

Hildegard and Winfried as a happy couple

The witch hunters stay away from this peaceful little place. But I also hear that witches burn in many towns and villages. They are young or old, beautiful or ugly women, but especially often they are widows ... like I've been.

Much later, I send a message to my parents and siblings that I am still alive. Hugo, Irmgard and Inge happily come to visit me. Irmgard comes with her husband, she's also married now.

Oh yes, I still have a weakness for nettles ... and for blackberries, but without the prickly branches.

And so this story has a happy ending

The End

Hopefully this alternative, perhaps a little fairytale-like ending is not only good for Hildegard, but also for all of us, after all the misery and torments that our heroine endured as an accused witch or a sinner ... And so I won't let her perish in misery somewhere, not let her end up as a whore in the alley and also not burn as a witch (that was the main story).

I deliberately took up the aspect of the witch hunt again in order to better link the two alternative stories in terms of content ... and because it fits into that time, especially about 500 to 350 years ago. The mentioned bull of Pope Innocent VIII, which in 1484 called for a witch hunt all over Europe 'out of concern for the well-being of Christians', really did exist ... with terrible consequences. Once started, the witch hunt would not come to an end until 300 years later, although a Pope never again confirmed the document or called for witch hunt... And the witch hunt should capture Reformed, Protestant regions just as Catholic countries; it should even spill over into the 'New England colonies' of the New World, to North America.


Hopefully this alternative, perhaps a little fairytale-like ending is not only good for Hildegard, but also for all of us, after all the misery and torments that our heroine endured as an accused witch or a sinner ... And so I won't let her perish in misery somewhere, not let her end up as a whore in the alley and also not burn as a witch (that was the main story).
Good to see! And I hope that the witch hunts stay well away from her... and her daughters.


Name of the alternative story (Appendix I to IX)

In the end, the appendix became much more than the description of Hildegard's suffering from various pillories... And as a self-contained story, this alternative story deserves its own name, which I would like to add even after the end:

'Hildegard's Punishment and Adventures'


Witches dance


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