Chapter IX – At the Stake
My mouth is dry; I can feel my stomach contract; my scorched breasts are still pounding hard. No, I don't want that, I'm innocent, I'm not a witch!
I stumble back, away from the stake, but the guards pull and force me forward. I fight, I try to resist, but I just delay the inevitable a tiny bit. My scorched tits bounce and there is laughter again. A guy climbs the ladder, he pulls the rope around my waist, while another pushes me up from behind.
“Come on witch, to the stake with you! Not only your tits should burn now...“, says the man behind me and pushes me to the ladder.
"The little witch bucks, but that won't help her," calls out one of the crowd. “Little witch, little witch, you must be on fire!” another roars. A woman insults me, “Burn you devil's whore!” Another yells at me, “Make your penance at the stake, witch!"
My bare feet step on the ladder, one step at a time, and after seven steps I'm up. They roughly push me to the stake. The dry wood cracks under my feet and bows a little under the weight of me and the two guards. The branches prick my bare soles. The guards press my back firmly against the thick post and loosen the shackles around my wrists.
I instinctively want to pull my hands in front of me; I want to caress my breasts to ease the pain. But before I can move my hands, they grab my wrists and pull them behind the post. I am struggling to break free, but I am too weak. Two blackened chains with cuffs for my hands hang down from above; they close me tightly and then pull up the chains. I stand at the stake with my arms raised. My tortured shoulders hurt, but that is the least bit of suffering I feel now.
A guard ties my leg irons to very short iron chains at the bottom of the stake, I'm trapped. The other rips my skirt completely open and pulls the remnants apart. He wants to bare my pussy, take away my last honor. When he sees my hairless pussy, he grins and grabs between my legs unabashedly.
"Are you hot by then?" He asks with more grinning. "It seems to me that there is only scared pee... But be sure, the heat will still come between your legs; the flames will lick your pussy."
Finally the man wraps a burned black iron chain around my waist and between my bare breasts up to my shoulders, where the ends of the chain are attached to the stake behind my neck. The chain is so tight that it hurts when I move, even breathing is difficult.
When I groan, he just says: "We want you to be grilled nicely here ... and not fly away on a witch's broom that you pull out of the flames."
I feel the post between my feet, I cannot close my legs completely and I feel naked. The guard at my feet stands up and roughly touches my breasts. I groan with misery when the guy squeezes my scorched boobs and says: "Smells like grilled tits... Soon there will be more grilled meat."
The other says, "Nice brand marks on your boobs... I hope that really hurt... Now show your beautiful scorched tits to all the people, especially to the women and girls here. It should be warning to them not to get involved with the devil."
Finally he pinches my nipples viciously. "Nice, hard buds," he says. "You're lucky the hangman didn't scorch them... Be grateful and show the audience how excited and impatient your witch nipples are waiting for the fire!"
At last the two nasty guys leave the pyre over the little ladder. But another guard climbs up, steps in front of me and blocks my view. His eyes are hard. I can't stand his looks and I lower my eyes. He looks me over and nods with satisfaction. He pulls a finger-thin rope from his pocket and puts it around my neck.
I whisper to him, I ask him to strangle me, to spare me the fire. He puts the rope around my neck; I close my eyes; I feel the rough rope tightening... For a few seconds I think he's doing me this mercy, but he quickly pulls the rope away again. I look at him desperately; he was just playing with me and my fear!
"Now burn and suffer!" With these words the head guard jumps from the pyre and calls to the executioner, to the judge and at the same time to the crowd: "The witch is well prepared and secured in chains. She won't fly away anymore..."
The executioner approaches me once more. He nods to me seriously, but not angrily. Then he says: "I wish you a lot of strength on your way through the fire." It seems to me that he is the only one here who just does his duty and does not hate me.
Now the ladder is being pulled away. I am chained to the stake, alone and helpless. I twist myself in the iron shackles, but the chain is so tight and the stake is deep and tight in the ground. In vain I pull my arms outstretched. I can't escape I can only make fists of my fingers and open them again; it will ease the pain a little. And my breasts are still throbbing.
View attachment 1033349
Picture: Chained to the post at the pyre, there is no escape for Hildegard
My breasts are a bit flattened in this position, but they are still beautiful hemispheres with large, dark buds that stick out nicely in the cold ... but my boobs now have two cruel branded marks. And my pussy is completely naked and bald ... for all to see.
“Naughty and dishonorable, she sticks out her witch tits,” someone shouts. “It is a pleasure to see that the witch has received two red-hot irons,” shouts another. A third yells: "It’s time for her boobs to burn properly; there will be a nice fireworks display". I am desperate; people still mock me, even in the greatest need.
My breasts hurt badly and are clearly bloated. So they are even bigger. A black, branded "
W" covers the top on the left breast and encloses my nipple at the bottom. The edges of my witch mark are angry purple. On the right breast I see the branded cross. It has been placed a little diagonally, the foot on the inside next to my nipple, the head outwards, at the top of my boob.
The sight of my breasts frightens me, I don't even like to look at them, but many people like what they see. Even now I feel excruciating pain; I'm terrified and I feel tears.
A woman shouts: “What did you do with the hair between your legs, witch? Did you shave your pussy for the devil?” Many people laugh. People are really mean, but I hardly pay any attention to this ridicule.
My eyes wander desperately over the crowd, looking for help. All the people stare back with anticipation and hatred. I can see the hangman under his leather cap, my fear turns into panic. He sticks a torch into the embers, from which dark smoke rises as the tar ignites.
The judge steps in front of the crowd, the priest stands next to him. They proclaim my crimes, my sins, my confession and they declare that there is only one punishment for witchcraft: death by fire. They don't tell about what they did to me in the dungeon, how they hurt me, how they forced me to confess to crimes that I did not commit.
"I hand the witch Hildegard over to the grace of God and the pyre... May the fire devour her sinful body and purify her soul", the priest calls and the people applaud.
On the judge's orders, the executioner takes the blazing torch and the crowd falls silent. I only have eyes for the torch and it is getting closer with every second. The fire flickers over the place of execution, black smoke rises over the flames.
"No, please not!" I sob, more tears run down my face. I want to scream that I am innocent, that I haven't done anything wrong. I only confessed because of the torture. I want to shout that they must not light the fire because it is wrong, because the allegations are just lies. But I am rigid with terror.
I call out with a trembling voice, "Mercy ... I beg your mercy!" But there is no mercy for me as a witch. People shout back, "Burn, witch!" And the priest calls out to me, “Accept your just punishment witch! Your soul can only experience purification through severe pain."
Without the slightest hesitation, the executioner thrusts the torch into the straw, he waits a few heartbeats for the flames to jump over, then circles the pyre and lights it in several other places. I quickly see myself surrounded by flames and smoke.
View attachment 1033350
Picture: The pyre is lit, the fire spreads quickly...
I feel terrible panic. My bladder has already filled up again and is emptying again. There is laughter. I think of Johanna, I feel her fear, her pain and her shame.
I feel nauseous; acidic gastric juice collects in my mouth, my stomach contracts; my heart beats faster, my scorched boobs pound in pain with the beat of my heart. I begin to breathe frantically, my breasts rise and fall.
People are happy about my suffering and they mock me again. "Are you afraid, witch?" "Do you still want to seduce us with your excited tits? It's time that your cheeky boobs are well grilled!"
I am desperate, I am terrified. I can already feel the heat, I hear the crackling of the fire, I smell the burning wood. I look down frantically and see the excited orange tongues of flame curiously licking the dry branches. I see how the flames come closer, how they grow, how sparks and smoke develop. I choke and cough, the smoke thickens; it hurts when I breathe. Then I feel the wind suddenly pushing the smoke away from me, but that only prolongs my agony.
View attachment 1033351
Picture: Hildegard is filled with terrible fear and horror
I hope to be saved in the last moment... "Dear God, help me, please help me," I whisper, but the heat of the flames becomes more intense. I realize what is happening to me, I pull at the chains and continue my hopeless fight.
"Yes, pull at your chains, witch, you won't be able to free yourself... And the devil will not come to your aid," someone calls out to me.
I wriggle and tear the chains on my arms in desperation. It remains a futile attempt to escape, but the chains hold me in their iron embrace and they pull my arms up, there is no escape.
A woman enviously mocks my big tits, which I hold out to the mob. "Your plump tits look very sad, witch. What's left of your proud boobs?" She calls out to me. "I am happy to see your naughty boobs have been severely punished. You really deserved these ugly and painful brands on your witch tits. Be ashamed!" She enjoys my suffering.
I hardly pay any attention to these calls, I'm too scared. Now I can feel the heat at my feet. The flames shoot out of the wood around me, but they don't come straight to my body yet.
View attachment 1033352
Picture: Hildegard trapped by flames of the pyre