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Historical re-enactment dare.

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This is a work of fantasy, by myself.

My friends and I are true fans of medieval history and fantasy, and we also have an association of historical re-enactment, with which we organize demonstrations in our village and in some abandoned medieval villages that the municipality has restored as museums.
In one of these villages we also have a building used to host us during events, with bedrooms, bathrooms and everything, below it we also have a good amount of tools and furnishings to furnish the village, including pillories, shackles and chains.
Another hobby we practice is medieval fencing, which I am also good at.

So one night after another girl and I had drunk too much, we started arguing about who was better at the sword, we are used to fight with weapon without cutting edge, but still dressed with armor and padding similar to the original ones, therefore without really damaging the opponent, but still they are quite tiring and realistic clashes.
I think because of a friend of ours in the group, who in the end we ended up defying each other, but by giving away a rather severe penance, the defeat would have suffered a real medieval punishment.
If she had surrendered before the punishment ended, however, she would have had to play the innkeeper servant instead of the warrior for the events of the following year.
I did not want for any reason to give up being a warrior and then having to be a servant in the inn.

So the morning of two days later we were ready in the village square, it was an early june day, and to avoid dying of heat, we had decided that the battle would be at dawn.
I won't be here to describe the fight, she was better than me, and in the end I found myself on the ground and unarmed.

So it was decided, a real medieval punishment until dawn the next day.
I didn't know what awaited me, and in fact I was a little scared.
He began by ordering me to take off the armor and padding, underneath it I had a petticoat and trousers as well as boots.
Obviously she did not allow me to keep the boots and I had to take them off along with the socks.
Pointing the sword at me she asked me what I wanted to keep wearing between pants and petticoat.
I was about to decide to take off my petticoat and stay with only the pants, when she pointed out that I would still have to remove the bandages that held the breasts too, I would still be topless, with my tits on display in front of everyone.
So I took off my pants, and immediately she ordered me to remove the panties and the bands anyway, luckily the petticoat reached about my knees and I don't have big breasts.
However, I had not counted that the petticoat was soaked in sweat and had become slightly transparent, without the bandages, however, the shape of my breasts could be guessed perfectly.
Being alone with that transparent petticoat was humiliating anyway, it was closed at the neck by a lace, which obviously was loosened, making it open in the front, not enough for my breasts to be visible, but a gust of wind would have easily pulled the flaps aside, putting my graces on display.
I was quite nervous, I didn't understand how and why I got into this situation, certainly the fault of my pride, and even once half-naked and with two of the boys who were about to put me in chains, I still didn't want to give her victory.
As she went inside the building to take off her armor and put on more comfortable clothes, I was chained with handcuffs on my wrists and carried close to a wall, to be tied with a ring high in the wall.
Here I became aware of another problem: I was barefoot; often during events we are without shoes, but we usually do it in the squares or in the streets paved with smooth stones.
The village square retained parts of the ancient pavement, especially in front of some buildings, but most of the square had been filled with gravel in place of the usual dirth, to prevent plants from growing.
When they dragged me barefoot on the gravel I immediately understood that it was going to be a long and painful day, the stones tormented the soles of my feet, forcing me to bite my lip to bear them.

Chained with my wrists up, I waited a long time, with my back leaning against the cool wall and my head bent so as not to meet the eyes of the other boys, who were arranged around me, also dressed as medieval mercenaries.
The sweat in my petticoat was getting cold on my skin, I was in the shade and I began to shiver again, but the thing that embarrassed me most were the nipples that were stiffening and erecting, becoming extremely evident under the fabric.
I could feel the eyes of the boys on my lightly covered tits.
Now one thing needs to be clarified, any time I said enough, they would set me free and the whole game would be over, but I didn't want to give up.
After a while she came back, dressed in a tunic, pants, her soft leather boots (which I very much envied at the time) and a lightly padded armor.
"take the yoke, it's time to take a stroll" she ordered.
The yoke was a wooden post shaped to fit a person's shoulders and allow the wrists to be tied at the ends.
They freed me from the chains, and while two held my arms firmly, two others placed the yoke on my shoulders and then tied the wrists to the wood with rough cords.
The new position, with the arms outstretched, had pushed the two flaps of the petticoat further apart, increasing the amount of visible skin and almost showing one of the two breasts entirely; evidently my tormentor noticed my concern, the modesty of showing my tits in public.
She approached slowly and with one finger pushed the flaps aside until my nipples were almost showing, but without exposing them completely: "ah, we're shy huh? Don't worry, your friends will soon see those two little tits.”

So we started the walk, there is a path that starts from the village and, after a not too long panoramic tour, it comes back, normally it is a fifteen minute walk, but in the conditions in which I was, barefoot and tied up the path was of more than forty minutes.
The path is full of climbs and descents, but above all, it is full of sharp and pointed stones, at first it was just annoying, but halfway through the route it turned into a real torture, walking up a stony path without shoes is painful, but the descents were really excruciating, as you have to restrain the weight of your body by pressing the bare soles of your feet on sharp stones, also the day was getting hot already early in the morning, and the yoke was heavy and uncomfortable and annoying, increasing the pressure of the feet on the painful surface.
After the first round of the path, when we entered the village square again, I was tired and sweaty, the two flaps of the petticoat had continued to move away, although luckily, being stuck to my breasts with sweat, they had not fully exposed the breasts, however the tight fabric clearly showed their shape and the darkness of the nipples, as well as being now adherent to my butt and belly.
Although the walk had been a real torture, I had managed not to ask for mercy, I had let out only the occasional moans when I stepped on something more painful, but when after a short stop in which they made me drink from an earthen bowl, my tormentor announced another round, you could not help but ask for mercy.

"oh! the prisoner need rest!" she said "you can have it if you give up"
“never” i whispered.
“so no rest”
We left for another lap, this time my feet had already reached the limit of endurance and I could not avoid whining all the time, every step was like walking on thorns, plus the local stone, which itself is almost black, was heating up in the sun, adding the searing heat to the rest of the pain.
The sweat coming down from my forehead entered my eyes, and my tied arms prevented me from remedying it, every time I stopped I was pushed forward.
We reached the square again, the soles of my feet were a single surface of pain.
"I think the prisoner would be happy with another round, what do you think?" She said.
"no! Mercy! please!" i moaned.
"do you give up?"
“no, i can’t”
"then I think we could come to another agreement: I could also give you some respite and let you rest, but this will cost you your torso." She said evily.
“my torso?”
"yes, from now on you will be naked from the waist"
“what?”
"I want guys to be able to see your nice little tits, they deserve it, and you're so cute."
“Fuck” I thought, "I have to rest otherwise the next round I won't be able to resist, and it's still the first half of the morning, showing off your tits is embarrassing, but at least it's not painful."
“go ahead, i will be topless”
 
This is a work of fantasy, by myself.

My friends and I are true fans of medieval history and fantasy, and we also have an association of historical re-enactment, with which we organize demonstrations in our village and in some abandoned medieval villages that the municipality has restored as museums.
In one of these villages we also have a building used to host us during events, with bedrooms, bathrooms and everything, below it we also have a good amount of tools and furnishings to furnish the village, including pillories, shackles and chains.
Another hobby we practice is medieval fencing, which I am also good at.

So one night after another girl and I had drunk too much, we started arguing about who was better at the sword, we are used to fight with weapon without cutting edge, but still dressed with armor and padding similar to the original ones, therefore without really damaging the opponent, but still they are quite tiring and realistic clashes.
I think because of a friend of ours in the group, who in the end we ended up defying each other, but by giving away a rather severe penance, the defeat would have suffered a real medieval punishment.
If she had surrendered before the punishment ended, however, she would have had to play the innkeeper servant instead of the warrior for the events of the following year.
I did not want for any reason to give up being a warrior and then having to be a servant in the inn.

So the morning of two days later we were ready in the village square, it was an early june day, and to avoid dying of heat, we had decided that the battle would be at dawn.
I won't be here to describe the fight, she was better than me, and in the end I found myself on the ground and unarmed.

So it was decided, a real medieval punishment until dawn the next day.
I didn't know what awaited me, and in fact I was a little scared.
He began by ordering me to take off the armor and padding, underneath it I had a petticoat and trousers as well as boots.
Obviously she did not allow me to keep the boots and I had to take them off along with the socks.
Pointing the sword at me she asked me what I wanted to keep wearing between pants and petticoat.
I was about to decide to take off my petticoat and stay with only the pants, when she pointed out that I would still have to remove the bandages that held the breasts too, I would still be topless, with my tits on display in front of everyone.
So I took off my pants, and immediately she ordered me to remove the panties and the bands anyway, luckily the petticoat reached about my knees and I don't have big breasts.
However, I had not counted that the petticoat was soaked in sweat and had become slightly transparent, without the bandages, however, the shape of my breasts could be guessed perfectly.
Being alone with that transparent petticoat was humiliating anyway, it was closed at the neck by a lace, which obviously was loosened, making it open in the front, not enough for my breasts to be visible, but a gust of wind would have easily pulled the flaps aside, putting my graces on display.
I was quite nervous, I didn't understand how and why I got into this situation, certainly the fault of my pride, and even once half-naked and with two of the boys who were about to put me in chains, I still didn't want to give her victory.
As she went inside the building to take off her armor and put on more comfortable clothes, I was chained with handcuffs on my wrists and carried close to a wall, to be tied with a ring high in the wall.
Here I became aware of another problem: I was barefoot; often during events we are without shoes, but we usually do it in the squares or in the streets paved with smooth stones.
The village square retained parts of the ancient pavement, especially in front of some buildings, but most of the square had been filled with gravel in place of the usual dirth, to prevent plants from growing.
When they dragged me barefoot on the gravel I immediately understood that it was going to be a long and painful day, the stones tormented the soles of my feet, forcing me to bite my lip to bear them.

Chained with my wrists up, I waited a long time, with my back leaning against the cool wall and my head bent so as not to meet the eyes of the other boys, who were arranged around me, also dressed as medieval mercenaries.
The sweat in my petticoat was getting cold on my skin, I was in the shade and I began to shiver again, but the thing that embarrassed me most were the nipples that were stiffening and erecting, becoming extremely evident under the fabric.
I could feel the eyes of the boys on my lightly covered tits.
Now one thing needs to be clarified, any time I said enough, they would set me free and the whole game would be over, but I didn't want to give up.
After a while she came back, dressed in a tunic, pants, her soft leather boots (which I very much envied at the time) and a lightly padded armor.
"take the yoke, it's time to take a stroll" she ordered.
The yoke was a wooden post shaped to fit a person's shoulders and allow the wrists to be tied at the ends.
They freed me from the chains, and while two held my arms firmly, two others placed the yoke on my shoulders and then tied the wrists to the wood with rough cords.
The new position, with the arms outstretched, had pushed the two flaps of the petticoat further apart, increasing the amount of visible skin and almost showing one of the two breasts entirely; evidently my tormentor noticed my concern, the modesty of showing my tits in public.
She approached slowly and with one finger pushed the flaps aside until my nipples were almost showing, but without exposing them completely: "ah, we're shy huh? Don't worry, your friends will soon see those two little tits.”

So we started the walk, there is a path that starts from the village and, after a not too long panoramic tour, it comes back, normally it is a fifteen minute walk, but in the conditions in which I was, barefoot and tied up the path was of more than forty minutes.
The path is full of climbs and descents, but above all, it is full of sharp and pointed stones, at first it was just annoying, but halfway through the route it turned into a real torture, walking up a stony path without shoes is painful, but the descents were really excruciating, as you have to restrain the weight of your body by pressing the bare soles of your feet on sharp stones, also the day was getting hot already early in the morning, and the yoke was heavy and uncomfortable and annoying, increasing the pressure of the feet on the painful surface.
After the first round of the path, when we entered the village square again, I was tired and sweaty, the two flaps of the petticoat had continued to move away, although luckily, being stuck to my breasts with sweat, they had not fully exposed the breasts, however the tight fabric clearly showed their shape and the darkness of the nipples, as well as being now adherent to my butt and belly.
Although the walk had been a real torture, I had managed not to ask for mercy, I had let out only the occasional moans when I stepped on something more painful, but when after a short stop in which they made me drink from an earthen bowl, my tormentor announced another round, you could not help but ask for mercy.

"oh! the prisoner need rest!" she said "you can have it if you give up"
“never” i whispered.
“so no rest”
We left for another lap, this time my feet had already reached the limit of endurance and I could not avoid whining all the time, every step was like walking on thorns, plus the local stone, which itself is almost black, was heating up in the sun, adding the searing heat to the rest of the pain.
The sweat coming down from my forehead entered my eyes, and my tied arms prevented me from remedying it, every time I stopped I was pushed forward.
We reached the square again, the soles of my feet were a single surface of pain.
"I think the prisoner would be happy with another round, what do you think?" She said.
"no! Mercy! please!" i moaned.
"do you give up?"
“no, i can’t”
"then I think we could come to another agreement: I could also give you some respite and let you rest, but this will cost you your torso." She said evily.
“my torso?”
"yes, from now on you will be naked from the waist"
“what?”
"I want guys to be able to see your nice little tits, they deserve it, and you're so cute."
“Fuck” I thought, "I have to rest otherwise the next round I won't be able to resist, and it's still the first half of the morning, showing off your tits is embarrassing, but at least it's not painful."
“go ahead, i will be topless”
A delicious and delightful fantasy, very beautifully told. :clap: :love:
 
They loosened my hands from the yoke and then took it off my shoulders, and that was a relief, then they widened the collar of the petticoat and slipped it, pulling off the sleeves, until the torso was exposed, transforming the garment into a kind of skirt.
They undressed me almost to the groin, I was afraid they would not stop, but in the end they adjusted the garment a few fingers below the navel.
I had never been so naked in front of men, I tried to cover myself with my arms, but I was prevented.
Now it must be said that I am quite satisfied with my body, I have always played sports and I am slender, even if I have not very big breasts, they have a shape that I like, rounded, and I have succeeded over the years to keep my stomach flat, however, it is not my habit to go around semi naked, in fact I'm usually quite shy.
They allowed me some rest, made me sit on the ground, in the shade, with my wrists chained behind me, as long as I kept my legs low without covering my breasts.
Obviously their eyes were on my boobs, as if they had to memorize them, and that bothered me, but that was part of the challenge I had undergone.
I was exhausted and then I dozed off in that position, but was awakened by a bucket of cold water that my tormentor had thrown at me.

"Time for another lap, let's go show your boobs around, see if there is any hiker who can admire the show."
"no, I beg you."
"surrender, your clothes are there in the house, surrender and you can put them back on, shoes included."
"Please, do me something else, some more torture, but enough with the stones, I can't walk barefoot anymore" i begged.
"Let's see, after this lap we would listen to your proposal, if we find it cruel enough, we could decide to stop these walks."
This walk was even more miserable, the rocks were now hot, and I moaned every step, moreover the risk of meeting someone along the path was low, but not nil.
My mind was torn between the pain of the feet, the shame of being topless and the annoyance of the wooden yoke on bare skin.
Upon arriving in the square I was even more exhausted when my torturer asked me: "What do you want us to do instead of another lap?"
My mind raced, but I was too confused by the pain to be able to say anything, so she ordered two boys to hold the yoke firmly and a third to start tickling me.
I’m horrendly ticklish, I probably turned pale at the news, also because the punishment was beginning to pass to a higher level; I almost jumped off my skin as his hands touched my ribs.
tickling can be fun, if short, very short, but after a while it starts to be annoying and eventually, after enough time it starts to be excruciating torture; after a while I was desperate that it would never end, I struggled in vain while my body was spasmed and laughed loudly.
The boy had worked on my ribs and hips for a couple of minutes, which seemed eternal to me, before he could start again she came forward and said: "now you will be given twice as much, and this time our friend will act on the belly and breasts, let's see if your nipples are also ticklish. Do you accept or do you give up? "
“I can’t give up.” I said, and the tickle started again, the boy's hands immediately ran to my breasts, half tickling and half groping, with the index fingers teasing the nipples, and I burst out laughing and struggling again, trying to shake the hands from my body, to no avail.

The tickle lasted forever, after the breasts it was again the ribs and hips that were tickled, then the belly and breasts again in sequence.
When the hands stopped I was asked to surrender, but my cursed pride made me shake my head; I lost count of how many times they stopped to ask me to declare myself defeated and then start again, each time the tickle lasted longer, until I collapsed supported only by the yoke.
"If you want, we can end up tickling, but only if you agree to take a last lap on the path" She said.
“Yes, please” i murmured, I knew another round was going to be excruciating, but the pain is easier to resist than the tickle.

Another lap began, and again I had to put my bare feet on the sharp burning stones again; every step was painful, very painful, the nerves transmitted the atrocius pain directly to the brain, and I had to use all my willpower to continue.
Moreover, by now, after the tickle, my tormentor that the other boys had become daring, and from time to time someone reached out to touch my breasts and ass.
I could have, or of course, stopped them at any moment, but I couldn't afford to lose and give up, so I had to endure this humiliation as well.
in the middle of the walk I fell to my knees, I could no longer put the soles of my feet on the ground.
“Stand Up” yelled the torturer, then she took a flexible twig from the ground and freeing it from the leaves began to snap it like a whip.
“Stand up, or i will whip you”.
I couldn't get up so I accepted that she would whip me.
The first shot came in the middle of my back, leaving a line of fire on my skin, instinctively I arched my back and pushed my chest out, which the boys seemed to like.

I don't have big boobs, on the contrary, they are perhaps a little small for my body, but they are round and without the slightest sign of saggyness, but the arched back position, in addition to having stretched the torso, exposing the ribs, had pushed her breasts out in a provocative way.
I felt their eyes on my nipples, and I tried to return to a more modest position, ignoring the pain in my back.
I was hit a second time, always in the middle of the back, this time I screamed and arched back again repeating the show to my tormentors.
“I… I wil stand up.” I murmured, starting to move to obey, obviously putting the soles of my feet back on the searing and sharp stones made me scream.
The rest of the walk was miserable, every step I moaned in pain and if I slowed down I was hit in the back and hips by that makeshift whip.
When we arrived in the square I fell on my knees again, and then I folded my back on the pavement.
"She's exhausted, we have to let her rest a little or she'll give up too soon, I want to have fun until dawn." Said my torturer, and after throwing a bucket of frozen water on me, I was freed from the yoke and dragged into a cellar which, for scenic purposes, had been converted into a medieval prison, with cells locked by bars and with plank tables for beds.
The petticoat was now a rag on my hips, I felt really naked.
I was lying on my back on one of the plank bed, then with ropes tied the wrists to the upper corners and the ankles to the lower ones of the plank, tied to X on that table I was perfectly defenseless when my captors decided to give me one last groping before leaving me alone.
The last thing I remember was the clang of the metal cage door closing.
 
I woke up with someone pouring cold water on my body, on my stomach.
My tormentor was sitting on the plank next to me and looking at me with a sadistic smile.
"Are you ready for more torture? Remember, you can always give up if you want, and maybe you'd be a perfect servant for the inn. "
"I am a warrior, I can withstand anything you want to do to me."
Then my tormentor took something behind her, it was a candle holder with a large candle on it, a puddle of melted wax had formed in the hollow of the flame.
She tilted the candle and let the hot wax drop on my belly, I wasn't ready and I jumped in pain, letting out a strangled cry.
She kept dripping wax on my skin, moving closer to my breasts, and then taking an interest in the nipples, then moving down to the groin again, I still had the rag on my hips, but it had gone down a lot under my navel and the burning wax on that bit of skin was a real torture.
I screamed and tried to struggle, but I was tied tightly and my muscles ached from resting still, tied up and on hardwood.
The boys were still there to enjoy the show, my tormentor had many candles, so when she ran out of wax she took another one and continued, while letting the painful liquid accumulate again.

However, it seemed that my half-naked body writhing in pain was extremely interesting to the company.
The torture seemed to continue forever, but suddenly it stopped, and without releasing me, with the back of a knife, two of the boys began to remove the solidified wax from my skin; obviously they did not spare to touch and caress me, as well as pinch and tickle me, taking advantage of the fact that I was tied tightly.
Every now and then they asked me if I wanted to give up and put up with all this, until I gave up, they said, I authorized them to treat me like this, and it was true after all.

While I was still tied on the plank with the two boys who, having finished removing the wax, continued to touch and tickle me, ignoring my protests, I distinctly heard the bleating of goats.
The torture of the goats, we had talked about it during a historical conference, a cruel medieval torture in which the victim was tied and salt sprinkled under the soles of the feet and on the ribs, and then the beasts were allowed to lick off all the salt, so that the rough tongue of the ovines tickled and sanded the skin.
Oh my god, it would have been excruciating, furthermore the feet still had small wounds due to the long barefoot walking on the stones, as well as the ribs had been hit by the improvised whip, the salt would have burned like hell beside the prolonged tickling for a long time.
Near the village there was a farm where sometimes we borrowed animals for our events, they had taken the goats there.
My bonds were undid, but i was hed firmly and dragged again outside, where an ankles pillory was placed on the ground, in front of a spiked stool, under a beam sticking out of the wall.
The stool had the surface covered with wooden dowel, they were not sharp, but certainly very annoying.
I was made to sit on the stool, my tormentor made sure to move the fabric that I had at my hips away from my ass, so that I sat directly on the spikes, then they tightened my ankles in the pillory and handcuffed my wrists to a chain tied to the beam, so that my arms were stretched upwards and it was impossible for me to cover my torso, the position however highlighted my boobs, drawing the attention of boys.
Sitting with bare ass on those toes was immediately painful, I could force my arms to lift myself a little, but this strained the muscles, I could not hang on my arms for long, especially during what would happen next, tickled by the rough tongues of goats; probably the spasms of the tickling would have made the bare butt on the dowels even more excruciating.

“You give up!” she asked to me.
I was so tired, i was on my way to surrender.
“So, you wil be a really nice inn servant, maybe i will ask you for wine really often, you will serve me?” she joked and my pride erupted.
“i will never surrender!” i said.
“you will, little inn servant” she replied.
The boys then began the preparation, strings were tied to my toes, to the first, second and third toes of each foot, each toe individually, and then they were pulled back and tied to the pillory, to keep the soles of the feet taut and exposed, after -with cloths soaked in icy water they began to wet the soles of the feet and hips, from the waist to the armpits, including the rib cage and underside of each breast; then they applied the salt, which first crept into the wounds, causing a pain like electric shocks, I had to resist, but I failed, and started screaming and sobbing.
I watched in terror when, finished applying the salt, four goats approached my person, two were tied with their noses in front of my feet and two more at my sides, and it didn't take long for their rough tongues to start tickling me.
Unlike the hands of my torturers, the beast's tongues were rough and vigorous, licking relentlessly and mercilessly as I struggled in vain.
The tickle, accompanied by the pain from the salt in the cuts invaded my brain, I tried to pull myself up with my arms so as not to suffer for the bare ass on the spikes, but soon I no longer had strength and I had to endure even that torment, furthermore struggling to avoid the tongues I was forced to move constantly, and suffer the pain of those dowel on my bottom.

While undergoing torture it is difficult to keep track of time, everything that happens to you is as if it were in an eternal and desperate present, every suffering has no beginning or end, only distress.
You would like to focus on ending the torture, but your mind is only able to focus on the torture itself, when they removed the goats from my skin I was almost confused, as if my mind was convinced that by now for the rest of my life I would have the soles of my feet and my hips and side tickled by rough tongues.
I was half laughing and half screaming in despair, at the end of the stimulus it took me a while to stop, my lungs were on fire, and I was out of breath.
"Do you give up? Or do we put more salt and then let the goats go back to work?"
My eyes were full of tears when I looked at my tormentor.
"No, no goats, do anything to me, but not goats"
I was about to break down, I was ready to give up, and she noticed it, now I say it was probably too early, she wanted to have fun with me for a lot longer.
"So, my dear prisoner, I give you three chances, and don't say I'm not generous." She said.
“First Chance: You give up. Second Chance: more salt and more goats.” Then she took a break and then said: “Third chance: let's change the type of torture for now, but this will cost you that rag on your hips.”
So, she wanted me completely naked, humiliated to the utmost, not only by boys, males, able to see and touch my body and my boobs, but now also my ass and pussy.
She caressed one of my breasts and teased a nipple: "hurry up and decide, otherwise the goats will come back"
“Undress me, but no more goats, have mercy on me.”
 
They freed me from the ties and pillory, and I lifted my butt off that hateful stool with relief, I was put on my feet, who obviously were still sore, and was led to the wall, where I was chained again with my arms up and on my toes, then, ceremoniously, my tormentor removed the last bit of dignity that remained to me, exposing me naked to the public.
Two tent pegs were planted in the ground about half a meter from me, one to the right, one to the left, and then, with little grace, my ankles were spread apart and tied to the pegs, now not only was I naked, but I was also tied up with my legs open, and all on display.

While I was tied up there, naked, and without the possibility of hiding the most intimate parts of my body, the group of my torturers prepared a rope stretched between two walls of the square, for a distance of perhaps twenty meters.
It was not a medieval rope, luckily I would add, but a normal mountaineering rope, which had been knotted every 50 cm, and which they were straining to two rings of the many that were on the wall, once used to tie horses.
Now it would be used, instead, to make me experience a new and humiliating torture.
In short, I was untied and the yoke was put back on my shoulders, then they took me to the rope and placed me astride it, I had to stay on my toes, because the rope was higher than my crotch, my tormentor, at this point, tried to make the rope slip inside my vagina, the feeling was horrible, like the certainty that my next torture would be to walk along that rope, rubbing the inside of my vagina along it, and there were at least forty knots to overcome.
My hands were stuck in the yoke, and therefore I had to balance only with my feet, pressing them on the ground, obviously on the gravel.
With a blow of the flexible stick that she had transformed into a whip he gave me the go.
She kept whipping my back, expecially my shoulders for let me walk.
Luckily for me the rope was not rough, and the rubbing only woke my clit, just in time for the first knot, passing that rope obstacle was ina indescribable sensation, my clitoris was getting aroused, and that sudden widening hit her severely, stimulating her wildly.
The pain of being constantly struck with a flexible branch on my back and having to walk barefoot on stones slowed the excitement that grew in me as the rope and knots passed through my vagina.
I had stopped repressing moans and screams long ago, but now my moans were slightly different than before, and this amused the spectators and humiliated me.

Believing that such an experience can lead to orgasm is pure fantasy, especially since my tormentor kept hitting my back, especially on the shoulder blades, with the improvised whip, and since I continued to have to walk barefoot on the stones, but certainly the rubbing and overcoming of knots had stimulated and made certain parts of me more sensitive.
Probably, a skillful hand, if it had overcome the soreness in my vagina, would have brought me to an orgasm even if in front of everyone.
But instead it went differently: as I was at the other end of the rope I was ordered to go back, and since I was not going to do it, two candles were lit and slowly brought to my breast.
“Now you better take a little stroll back, for the happiness of your pussy, or you'll see what it means to have roasted nipples.” She said. “or maybe you give up”

“never” i murmured as the candles went really near my nipples so i ca feel the heat.
Before it can be hutrful i started my stroll back, walking backward, aving the knots enternig before on my ass ten on my pussy, and i don’t like stuff in my ass.
Obviously walking backwards, without being able to turn, with knots entering your ass is slower, and suddenly the candles almost reached the nipples, so much so that I felt the burning pain, I shouted and instinctively blew out the candles.
This was a mistake.
First thing the boy holding the candles spilled the small pool of hot wax that had formed over my breasts, then without saying anything another put a gag on me, it was a cylindrical piece of wood, placed like a horse's bit, and tied behind my head, then covered with a piece of cloth.
"This trick will cost you another lap on the path like this morning, actually two more, obviously naked as you are, and it's easier to meet people at this hour." The torturer said.
They lita gain the candles and the stroll started again.
They made me go along the rope forward and backward for six times more (eight time in total), then they pulled me down and started the walk without having a chance to recover.
The walk was miserable, my crotch ached, my feet hadn't rested enough to endure another walk on those sharp, hot rocks, and my back was full of painful lash marks that were starting to be several, besides, the boys obviously took advantage of my nakedness, touching me everywhere, pinching and tickling me, but also making humiliating jokes about my body and about the parts of it that they liked best, as if I were not there.
I found that they particularly liked my naked torso, the fact that I was slim but fit, that I had nice round breasts, and how my torso twisted as I received the tortures, how my belly quivered and my ribs showed under my skin as I was being stretched or I moved to relieve the pain of some torment.
I also found that some claimed that I had nice feet, both because they were strong and because of the long toes; but also because as I was not used to walking barefoot, they were very sensitive to pain.

At the end of the two further laps on the stony path, when I was back in the square, I fell to my knees, so they dragged me to the pillory, which had been pulled out: it was a solid wooden instrument and well built.
I was left in the pillory for a long time, until my back began to ache from the position, then I was asked if I would give up.
I was still gagged, so I shook my head. I don't know what was still leading me not to admit my defeat, I was exhausted, naked, in pain and I was authorizing them to torture me further.
They put a crate under my knees where I could kneel, then nailed nails to the crate itself to be able to fix some ties with which to immobilize my ankles.
Once my feet were immobilized, they first wiped them with a damp cloth, then they began to annoy and torture them.

I was hit with sticks under the soles, then they played with the fire of a cuple of candles with my toes, extorting desperate cries from me, then they were stapled and then again the candles and then again the sticks; while this was happening, others had taken nettles and started lazily rubbing them on my back, then on my belly and finally on my bare breasts, then later on my inner thighs and finally on my butt and vagina.
It was almost sunset and I gave up.



I was released but was not allowed to get dressed until I signed the surrender.
They put two sheets in front of me to read.
In the first it was specified that I would play the inn's maid for the events of the whole year, it specified how I would be dressed (a peasant dress) and that I would be barefoot, being a servant.
In the other paper, which I could sign separately, there was another proposal: if I had spent the night in the cage, one of the medieval furnishings we had, I could have, a month from now, undergo a new ordeal, like that of the present day, in case I resisted to the end, I would acquire my warrior status again. At the same time, however, if I had passed the ordeal, my challenger would have had to undergo an ordeal like mine, and in case of defeat, I would have chosen her role during the events for the following year.
The Cage was in fact a cylindrical cage, very narrow, so much so that it was difficult to move your arms if you were imprisoned inside it.
I didn't really want to spend the night standing naked, because obviously they wouldn't let me get dressed, I was tired and I wanted to get dressed and put on my shoes.
Also the idea of being tortured again in a month, they were cruel today, and being naked was very embarrassing, today I allowed them to touch my naked body, to touch my private parts, as well as to hurt me.
But the idea that if I had put up with it all I could have tormented my tormentor was tempting.

Then I signed both papers and was led to the cage, my torturer seemed unhappy with the possibility that I was given, even if not certain, to torture her, but she had to accept.
Obviously during the night they took turns to torture me and exhaust me beyond all limits.

the end (for now)
 
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