The Witch and the Executioner

[Rupert_137]

The Day of the Execution

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Johanne gets ready for branding irons and for the fire at the stake...


Chapter 22 – Red Hot Irons

Three days later, it was the day of the full moon; everything was prepared for the burning and last torments of the young witch.

As if looking through me, Johanne looked in my direction on the morning of her execution. I went into her cell, reached under her arms and picked her up. Guards released her from their chains.

"Come on, it's time ... you have to take your last path today."

My voice was calm. I wanted to avoid any fuss or rush as long as possible.

She already seemed to be in another world. Completely indifferent, she let me lead her out of the dungeon and I bound her hands. First the torture, then the many rapes, and finally the day with the goats and the pissing men and women had completely broken her.

The bright light of the sun blinded her. She raised her tied hands protectively in front of her face. One of the two guards standing next to the cart pointed a finger at her.

"Look, the little witch doesn't like the sun."

The other man just grinned.

"That will soon come to an end for you with the sun."

I took Johanne to the cart and handed her over to the two guards.

"Tie her tight so she doesn't cause any trouble. I want to have her in front of the south gate of the city without much fidgeting and later see her safely at the stake. "

Almost simultaneously, the two men grabbed Johanne to lift her onto the vehicle with one jerk.

"It's okay, Master Egbert, we know what to do ... The witch doesn't get away from us."

On the cart was a board on which they placed the witch. They tied her feet to an iron ring on the floor. They tied a rope around her waist, which held her while sitting on the board.

"So, then we can start!"

One stayed next to Johanne at the cart, the other took the donkey by the bridle and led it towards the gate.

The people huddled together. When the cart came up to them, they spontaneously gave way, as if something hideous and disgusting was approaching them. Everywhere we heard them shouting: "The witch is coming ... The witch is coming!"

Some onlookers also showered Johanne with vocal cries, others remained calm, but nobody wanted to miss what was happening here. Torturing a young witch publicly with the red-hot iron and burning her alive at the stake was a great attraction ... and I felt responsible for ensuring that people were not disappointed. Surely no one would have liked to be in her shoes now.

Johanne sat completely rigid on her board and only the shaking of the cart gave her body movement. Her gaze was empty and yet also frightened.

The guards made their way with the cart through the many people standing on either side or following the train behind us. I stayed on the otherwise unguarded side and kept a close eye on the young witch. Should something happen that even suggest that she wanted to break free, I was ready to jump over to her immediately. Crosses hung on all sides of the cart itself to ward off the devil. However, we got to the city wall without incident, where Johanne was supposed to receive branding irons and the hot claw. This was the first major climax of her punishment as a witch.

There was a wooden gate there. We released Johanne from the ropes that tied her to the cart and two guards dragged her under the gate. Iron rings hung from the wood on either side. There we tied her arms with ropes and pulled her tight until her body stretched. At the bottom there were two more rings on the inside of the two side posts. There we tied Johanne to her feet with her thighs wide open.

The witch let it happen without resistance and soon Johanne was standing under the gate with widely spread arms and legs. The clerk stepped forward and began to read from her judgment, as far as the branding iron on the claw was concerned:

"The witch Johanne should receive a red-hot iron twice in her skin as a penance for her serious guilt and then feel the heated claw deep in her flesh." He did not give any details in order to make the demonstration even more exciting for everyone. But I saw Johannes trembling with fear and looking up to heaven somewhere. Was she hoping for help from 'above'?

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Spread helplessly, Johanne awaits the red-hot iron

Next to the wooden gate was a bowl of glowing coals, which two fellows kindled to light embers with bellows. There were two branding irons ready, the W for witch and a cross, which was supposed to break the power of the devil. And finally there was the iron claw a little on the edge of the embers.

I tore Johanne's shirt off in front of her chest from top to bottom. Her tits jumped out as if released and stretched out towards the audience and their misfortune. I saw that her breasts had healed well; even her nipples were only slightly swollen. Only up close did I see a few bruises, traces of abuse and torture. Satisfied, I noticed that the young witch would have to make a really serious penance and certainly present the audience with a great spectacle... Her beautiful boobs were a worthy target for my red-hot iron in every way, but her plump ass was also well suited.

Only a cloak remained of her penitent shirt, but I tore it open again in her back and tied the scraps of fabric at her sides. The young witch was now almost completely bare and showed us boobs, pussy and her plump ass very nicely. There was nothing she could hide.

I checked the embers, looked at the branding irons, turned the cross and waited until it glowed nicely red ... The glowing cross was meant for her buttocks to ward off the devil.

Many people had gathered and the guards were now struggling to push them back. "Sit in front on the floor, crouch behind it and then stand!" Shouted one and soon this order was observed.

I pulled the branding iron out of the embers and lifted it up. The joy among the spectators grew and at the same time the fear in the eyes of the witch girl. To demonstrate, I pressed the iron once onto a flat piece of wood attached to one of the posts. Immediately smoke rose, flames ignited and a beautiful, black cross remained on the wood. Then I brought the hot iron up to Johannes cheek, she turned away in despair and closed her eyes. "Oh, please don't ..." I heard her whimper.

I used the moment of surprise, withdrew the branding, stepped through the gate and pressed the red-hot iron on the girl's right ass cheek. I saw her twitch and her muscles tense as the glowing hot iron burned through her skin to the flesh of her butt for three long seconds.

At first it just hissed, then smoke rose and I smelled burnt meat ... Only when Johanne's scream broke from her lips did I pull back the glowing instrument of torture. A deeply branded cross was now emblazoned on her beautifully rounded bottom. The crowd applauded while Johanne pulled her ropes, gasped and cried out over and over again. I gave her time to calm down. Exhausted, but her face contorted with pain, she finally got stuck under the gate.

"Now the devil won't be able to help you", I said to her when she had calmed down a bit.

Finally, Johanne's well-filled breasts were the target of my attacks, only to be tormented with the red-hot iron and the claw. This would undoubtedly be a great climax for the audience as well as the victim ... Of course it was a shame to rip and burn her beautiful tits ... but this torture was the ultimate destination for her proud boobs ... I just had to realize it were witch tits.

At the same time, I was able to find the opportunity to show all my skills in handling the branding iron. I wanted to face the challenge of attacking Johanne's gorgeous tits with heat and claws and torturing them appropriately cruelly, as it was my duty. I wanted to burn her breasts and at the same time draw artfully without completely destroying their beauty. That was a job entirely to my liking, now I would be a torturer who burned a work of art into Johanne's boobs.

I chose the witch sign. It fit her breast perfectly; I'd burn the W into the top of her tit just above her nipple.

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Branding irons that Johanne has to receive, the W for witch, the glowing cross to ward off the devil.

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I blew the embers several times and let the iron glow, then I stepped in front of the witch girl. Slowly I put the hot iron against Johanne's left breast and let her feel the heat. The noisy crowd around us stopped instantly. I looked into her eyes, which just showed fear and pain, but now the sheer horror was reflected in them.

She writhed a little, but she could not escape the punishment of her breasts. "No," she said in a weak voice and shook her head, "Not my boobs ... please!"

"Oh yes," I called to her. "What did you think? Of course I'll burn your tits ... that's what people want to see.” I pulled the red-hot iron away again and pressed it into a piece of wood in front of her eyes and waited for the flames to ignite. Now it was clear to the witch what to expect.

When I brought the branding iron back to her left breast, Johanne closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

From the crowd someone shouted: "Come on, grill the witch's boobs!" But otherwise there was tense calm.

I squeezed very slowly, putting the glowing W against the top of her left breast without hurting the girl's nipple.
There was no escape; I pressed the burning hot iron deep into her soft, yielding tit.

Johanne's body tensed up and she held her breath, but she kept her eyes tightly closed and remained almost calm. It hissed and the embers burned through her skin. After just two seconds, I withdrew the instrument of torture, enough for her sensitive boob to penetrate the skin. Now the burned-in witch's mark was emblazoned on her plump curve and in her tender flesh too.

With a short delay, loud screams broke out from Johanne, which abruptly ended the excited silence. Her screams made the audience shudder, or made them happy ... depending on how attuned and prepared the people were.

I was satisfied, that was a good job, blacksmithing and perfect executioner work was united in this branding mark. My work was worthy of Johanne's beautiful breast, even if it caused the witch terrible pain. I deliberately left out her excited bud, although other torturers certainly did not, but they had no understanding of beauty and art.

When Johannes horrible screams finally fell silent, she hung as if passed out on the ropes that stretched her body. A bucket of water brought the witch girl into the world and back to her cruel pain. But she had not yet survived here, the hot claw was still waiting for her...

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Marked by pain and suffering, Johanne has to present herself to the curious spectators with a burned-in cross on her ass and a witch symbol at her breast

 

[Rupert_137]

Chapter 23 – Malevolent Claws

Ripping a young witch's breasts with a glowing claw must be the most terrible punishment I could imagine – right after burning her at the stake. And it was exactly this punishment that I had to prepare for Johanne ... I saw in her eyes that even the burned-in witch mark in her left breast still hurt unbearably. Again and again she clenched her teeth and she moaned.

It was her day of pain and her penance today... But this pain should cleanse her soul of the devil... And there would be a steady increase - branding iron - glowing claw - the fire at the stake.

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Various claws for tearing the victim's skin with 2, 3 and 4 prongs

I grabbed the heated claw, twisted it in the embers, blew into it, and waited for the three sharp prongs to glow. I knew this was the cruelest tool of torture, especially on a girl's delicate breasts. The hot claws tore deep wounds and immediately burned them from the inside. There wasn't much blood, but there was pain as hell. It was an extraordinary weapon in the hands of an executioner; it would cause horrific screams and indescribable agony. It was a devilish torture tool ... and yet it was legitimate to fight the devil and witches with it.

I pulled the glowing claw out of the fire and held it up by a long handle towards the audience. "This is the means of torture that causes the greatest pain," I shouted to the audience. There was applause and even more horror from the witch girl.

I approached Johanne and slowly brought the burning claw against her right breast. The crowd fell silent, but she just turned her head and I saw her gaze freeze in fear. She surely realized that a claw like this could tear and burn her whole breast.

I had to find a compromise, cause the witch greatest pain and intense suffering, please the bloodthirsty audience and yet I didn't want to destroy her soft and beautiful boob completely ...

I carefully pressed the tips of the three claws into the upper base of her right breast. I let Johanne feel the embers, but when she screamed I tore the claws slowly, but with force, down through her right tit. I cut deep into her breast, but stopped before I reached her nipple. It hissed and smelled of grilled meat. Satisfied, I withdrew the instrument of ultimate torture. I felt how I went deep into her breast without tearing it apart.

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Glowing claw with three prongs - two options

She screamed madly, her shrieks tumbling as she stared at the sky with wide eyes and then again at her breasts. It was like an imprint of a tiger's claw that had ripped her beautiful boob ... and the cracks went deeper than it looked and the embers made them much crueler.

It must have been an indescribably intense pain that flooded into her breast and began to rage there without calming down again.

Thick blood dripped from the deep cracks, but less than one might expect; the hot metal had quickly closed her blood vessels. The blood trickling from the wounds was just enough to satisfy the audience. Johanne's boobs remained largely intact despite the torture she had suffered, but the pain that was now raging inside both of her breasts had to be invincible for the girl.

Only very slowly did her screams ebb as she grew hoarse. After that, Johanne was still groaning frantically and very painfully. She tore at her ropes several times in desperation, as if she wanted to free herself. But her punishment here under the wooden arch ended with this cruel climax.

It was cruel and yet it was a great spectacle that had determined the judgment for the young witch. Even if the spectators could hardly have guessed how much Johanne really suffered. I was satisfied with my work and the audience applauded too. Only Johanne remained hanging under the archway, eaten away by the pain, ignoring everything around her.

We gave the damned half an hour to savor the pain and recover a little. At the same time, we gave the audience the opportunity to take a close look at the body of the witch with its branding marks and cracks of the claws.

Despite my careful and artistic treatment with hot irons, her otherwise proud tits looked sad. Only the excited nipples of the witch girl were still cheekily stretching out towards the audience. They almost seemed to shout to me: "Executioner, you forgot to punish us ... We want to do our part of penance too!" But as much as those beautiful, ripe buds begged my attention as a torturer, the verdict did not include punishing Johanne's nipples for penance ... so her teats would have to wait for the pyre to burn and until then please all viewers.

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Johanne's excited nipples were 'forgotten' in the judgment. Although sure to be worthwhile targets, her nipples are spared the attack with red-hot pliers.

Finally we untied Johanne. Sobbing and wailing, she pressed one arm over her burned and torn breasts. With the other hand she reached down to her bum to comfort herself there. But she wouldn't be able to console herself, only snow and ice could have alleviated her pain a little now.

"Is the pain throbbing in your tits?" I ask her. She shook her head and groaned, "Aaaaauuuuuaaaahhh ... It hurts so much, it hurts so badly ... My poor boobs ... It doesn't throb ... the pain roars, it rages and romps!"

"It was a tough test, but it was your punishment and your penance ... Nevertheless it was a great spectacle that you gave us as a witch here ... You will be remembered." She just looked at me in disbelief with tearful eyes.

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"You gave us a great spectacle as a witch ... You will be remembered." Johanne just looked at me in disbelief with tearful eyes.

Soon the guards were dragging Johanne back onto the cart, where she was again kneeling and tied behind her back with her hands. Now she was almost naked, because her penitential shirt was completely torn, but much worse than the shame was the angry pain that continued to eat her.

The next path would lead her straight to the stake, but the raging pain distracted her, caught the young witch's full attention.

From then on, Johanne stared as if spellbound at the branded H on her left boob and at the deep crack marks in her right breast. Again and again she clenched her teeth and I saw in her face that the pain was still unbearable for her. "Poor witch girl," I thought, "at the stake it will be even worse, because the flames will devour you on all sides, there will be no pardon."

Suddenly I realized: With full consciousness, she might not even experience it anymore, branding iron and glowing claw, that was too much for Johanne ... The indescribable pain will cloud her mind ... there is not much more she could take. She will no longer fight in the flames, she will only wish to die quickly.

 

[Rupert_137]

Chapter 24 – Burning at the Stake

The cart with Johanne rumbled further to the place where her execution was to take place. The pyre was outside the city wall, a little away from the gallows. Here the flames could rage safely.

A bunch of people had come with us; others were already waiting for us at the location of the last great performance that Johanne had to give us. Now they surrounded us all the funeral pyre set up the day before.

Excited calls greeted us: "The witch is coming ... the witch must burn..."

When we got to the square, I jumped on the cart and untied the witch's ropes. I only kept her hands tied. Johanne accepted everything completely indifferent. The pain of the red-hot iron still seemed to eat her up ... but in the heat at the stake her burns would blaze again indescribably angry.

Johanne was no problem for me when I lifted her off the cart and then led her through the crowd. We got closer to the pyre.

The people backed away from us of their own free will. At first I was surprised, but then I realized that I had forgotten the usual blindfold for Johanne. The people feared the evil eye of the witch. Now it was too late and I pretended that I hadn't planned otherwise.

The judge waited in front of the stake. A dozen city servants as guards kept order. When Johanne and I stopped in front of the judge, he lifted the document with the sentence against her and began to read from it for the crowd. It became quiet among the spectators. Everyone wanted to hear about the young witch's misdeeds.

So the judge began to report Johanne's outrageous crimes and there was an indignant murmur. I waited impatiently until the man symbolically broke the rod and threw it at Johanne's feet. I immediately dragged the girl up the rough-cut ladder to a small platform at the foot of the post, where she was to stand and burn. The platform was so small that we could hardly both stand on it.

Now, in addition to pain, I also saw deep fear on her face. I was so close to Johanne that I smelled her sweat of fear. It still smelled tempting to me ... I wouldn't have expected that from a witch who was being eaten away by pain and who almost pissed her shirt here in fear. She was a special witch girl...

For a moment I wished I could quickly fuck Johanne at the stake here before the fire was lit. It would be the ultimate experience for both of us. But of course I knew that this was a completely absurd thought in front of all the spectators...

Johanne offered no resistance even when I tore off the remains of her penitent shirt and began to chain her naked to the stake there. "People want to see you naked here," I told her. "Better that way than when the flames bare you."

Once again I ran my eyes and my hands over her naked body, which I was supposed to give to the fire. Actually it was a shame ... Her breasts were hot and plump, puffy from the severe burns, but a real eye-catcher for the spectators.

It seemed to me as if the young witch had finished with her life. Surely she didn't want to be fucked by me now ... she just wanted it to end quickly. But it wasn't going to be that easy for her.

The judge spoke up one last time and announced loudly that the witch Johanne was to burn here, tied to the stake, until she turned to ashes. He concluded with the words: “We hand the witch Johanne over to the grace of God and tear her away from the devil. May the fire burn her sinful body, the pain purify her soul and perhaps may save her."

I chained Johanne to the stake with my arms raised high. She was forced to stand upright ... or hang when her feet were burned and her legs failed. I wrapped a chain around her body for her impending ordeal. But I gave her some freedom of movement so that she could squirm in her pain and agony in front of the audience, because that was what people liked. Lastly, I chained her ankles to the bottom of the post.

When I was finished and wanted to get off the pyre, I looked Johanne in the face one more time. "I wish you a lot of strength," I said to her. Then I saw her previously expressionless eyes suddenly flashed, staring at me with hatred.

"You shall all be cursed and burn in hell forever!" She hissed and spat in my direction. I was able to avoid it, but this curse came as a surprise to me. I wouldn't have given her so much strength and anger; she already looked so weak and completely broken.

“It was you who tormented me and forced me to make a false confession! You tormented me much more terribly today with red-hot irons and you are still tormenting me... Instead of killing me here quickly, I have to burn slowly and in agony."

She poured all her hatred and anger on me, while her looks burned me: “For you it was just your work and a game that you won because I had to lose from the start… But for me it is much more than just a wicked game ... it was and it is hell!"

I was surprised, but she continued: "You say it was a great attraction for the spectators to see my breasts torn and branded with glowing hot irons ... and it should be another great spectacle for them to see me burning in the flames here... What kind of unworthy, horrible attractions are these?"

I accepted her challenge "You are a witch! You deserve all of your torments,” I called to her. “Yes, it was a game with clear rules and with a high stake and risk for you… You lost it, now don't quarrel with your fate, witch! Yes, you will give us all a great show today, whether you like it or not."

That was my revenge for her curse. "Go to hell, hangman!" She called back to me.

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The witch's eyes and the witch's curse meet Master Egbert, the executioner...

Some of the spectators who stood in the front of the crowd and could hear us laughed maliciously - others made depressed, almost fearful faces.

I should have got off the ladder feeling like a winner, but I felt insecure. Her curse and her accusations hit me ... I didn't know that from other executions. When I got to the bottom of the pyre, I pulled the ladder away. There should be no escape for Johanne, even if she could have broken her chains with magical powers.

The judge who insisted on reading Johanne's judgment in person, was clearly proud of the work he had done, while he looked at the damned witch on the stake. The land lord stood beside him with a self-righteous look, he only showed contempt for the young witch. On the other side of the judge, the alderman looked at the witch girl with worried, serious eyes. I also saw many men from the city council who had participated in the judgment standing in the area of the guests of honor. A little to one side I recognized the village cop, who made a rather embarrassed impression. No wonder, as he was the only one who knew exactly about the wrong he had done to Johanne.

People around us showed excited curiosity. They all wanted to see the young witch chained to a stake and burned in the flames. Some looks were worried and depressed, others were more expectant and joyful, and still others were filled with anger and hatred. Johanne's eyes wandered restlessly around, as if she was looking for someone in the crowd, perhaps her family or friends from before, to say goodbye in her mind...

I got tinder and someone handed me a torch. I wanted to finish it quickly now. The fire was kindled at once, because to speed things up I had sprinkled some black powder between the thin branches and under the thick logs. I put a fire in prepared niches on four sides. The flames rose up and now everything developed by itself. I just had to watch like everyone else ... and to pay attention.

The final suffering began for Johanne. Dry brushwood between the lower layers of the logs spread the flames quickly and evenly. It began to crackle and crack, puffs of smoke rose and flames shot up from the layered wood. The witch didn't get much of the heat at first, because only the outer area was already burning, which closed around her like a ring of flames. She was completely enclosed in the fire. I saw panic in her eyes. The fire had made her wide awake despite of all the pain.

The people were silent, there was a tense silence. Only now and then did I hear cautious voices saying something about what was happening. The flames slowly licked higher and higher and everyone who stood in the front rows could feel the warmth of the fire on their faces.

Johanne began to look around frantically. Soon the increasing heat rekindled the pain at her burns into cruel agony ... And again and again acrid smoke drove into her lungs, which made her cough. But the wind came from the east, kindling the fire and at the same time drove the smoke away to the west, hardly anything of it reached her mouth and nose so far.

The witch writhed desperately on the stake as far as her chains allowed small movements. Soon her face twisted into a grimace.

“Burn, witch, burn! Dance for us in the fire,” the people shouted. They were really cruel.

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Johanne at the stake in the flames of the pyre (but the feet were chained)

She looked at the flames, only briefly looked at me and then at the people around her. Her gaze was that of a wild animal. She shook her head, she seemed to be saying something, but the fire devoured her words.

“No, this is not a fair game,” she may have said. But maybe she also prayed or cursed us all again. We will never know!

A flame on her right rose above the others. It rose blazing up to her feet and evaporated to black smoke. The fire increased in intensity with every passing moment. It was now shooting out of every crack in the pyre. Johanne started screaming like crazy. The fire reached her feet. Suddenly she pissed herself in pain and fear, but she couldn't put out the fire, and she could only cool her legs for seconds. Her pee just hissed and evaporated.

But the people mocked the girl: "Just piss yourself with fear, witch, the devil won't help you anymore..."

The flames licked at her feet and slowly ate their way up her body. The skin on her legs began to turn red. I saw blistered white, which then burst. Her feet were already fully in the flames. Johanne's shrill cries grew duller; the hot air took her breath away. The witch girl's dance on the stake became hectic and intense, which showed us her excruciating pain.

Johanne's death throes drifted towards its climax. These were the moments of greatest agony. Chained and naked, she stood wrapped in the flames at the stake, filled with unimaginable pain, fear and despair. Soon the fire reached her hips, a little later flames played around the witch's breasts. Her skin was bright red and covered in large blisters. The burn marks she had received literally began to fry and they turned darker and darker between the flames.

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Screams and agony – enclosed and devoured by the flames...

One last dull scream as her hair caught fire and burned brightly. It was a beautiful or a horrible sight - depending on how you wanted to see it. Suddenly the witch fell silent. Fire, smoke, and heat stole the air from her to breathe. For a moment it still seemed to me as if she was wrestling wordlessly with the flames. Then Johanne hung motionless on the stake in the sea of flames.

All the excited calls from the audience had subsided. All you could hear was the crackling of the fire. Soon it reeked of burnt flesh all around as the witch's body slowly turned black. You could only guess that it was a pretty girl who had grilled alive in the fire shortly before.

Like a final awakening, the fat on her body began to burn. It was oozing and splattering from her burned skin everywhere, igniting with bright yellow flames that shot up. It began between her legs, her burned thighs and buttocks then rose to her stomach and her once beautiful plump breasts.

“The witch tits are on fire!” Someone exclaimed enthusiastically. Her once proud breasts burned the longest and most spectacular, like a final firestorm that raged at her body.

All that remained was a hunched, rigid, charred corpse that could be seen between the flames on the stake. But sometimes her body tore open somewhere to let out steam from her internal organs with a lot of stench. While her outer body was burned, Johanne boiled away inside.

People began to turn away. "The witch stinks of the devil," they shouted. Some could no longer hold the contents of their stomachs when the stench spread even more. They ran away, back to town.

Johanne's spirit had vanished and some of the observers thought they saw their soul vanish in the rising smoke. The great spectacle was over. Driven away by the heat of the fire and the stench, more and more people withdrew from the pyre.

I had positioned myself on the windward side, where I was somewhat spared the smell of her burned body. The last flames licked from the charred corpse. Slowly the pyre collapsed and the post with the remains of Johanne fell into the embers to be completely burned to ashes. A thousand sparks flew up again, like a farewell from Johanne. Then the fire calmed down slowly.

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The remains of Johanne fell into the burning pyre...

My work was done, but with only a few spectators I waited until the pyre burned out and only embers could be seen. Finally, I also went to town to have a good meal in a tavern and drink some beer. In my mind I was still with Johanne. I thought of her curse, which I still found creepy. I didn't really enjoy the taste of beer and food. I wondered whether heaven or hell was waiting for her soul now. And of course I also wondered if, as a burned witch, she still had the power to condemn us.

When I stepped out of the tavern it was already quite dark outside, all the clouds had cleared and the full moon had risen; bright and beautiful it stood over the houses of the little town. It was Johanne's full moon, but she didn't see the moon again. I passed the pyre once more and saw the remains of the embers in the darkness. The unpleasant smell was gone. I was drawn to the nearby river to go for a moonlit walk and to dispel my worries.

The next day I was left with the task of shoveling up the remains of ashes and, with a few assistants, scattering them in all directions. There was hardly anything to be seen of their charred bones. We only found her black-burned chains in the ashes. The beautiful witch had been completely wiped out, but I still felt her presence and I would certainly remember her for a long time.

I made good money on Johanne's torture and execution, which was a pleasant idea, but it didn't really make me happy. Was it well-earned money for me as an executioner? Or was there too much blood money from the land lord involved? I often went for walks by the river and sometimes still thought of the witch Johanne.

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A last farewell – the witch Johanne burns in the flames at the stake



This was the grand fiery finale for Johanne, followed by an epilogue with a conclusion for Master Egbert...

 

[Rupert_137]

Chapter 25 – Epilogue

Two weeks after Johanne's execution, a severe summer thunderstorm raged in the same area. The hailstones were so big and heavy that they injured people and animals, destroyed crops and depressed grain fields, and even some roofs were broken. The people quickly saw the work of witches in the storm. Only a few days later, the buxom daughter of a miller was arrested on charges of being a witch. The girl had run from the forest to the mill, completely soaked and with wildly trembling breasts, just before the storm really broke out. That made people suspicious. But more, the nubile girl had previously been seen by a hiker in the forest at a source, who claimed he saw her bathing naked there.

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Weather witches at work

All pledges of innocence did not help the marriageable girl. So I was looking forward to torture Barbara, the young, nubile miller's daughter as a witch. But Johanne's curse when her pyre was lit had got around in the population. It was precisely in her curse and not in Barbara that many people now saw the cause of the thunderstorm.

A needle test was ordered to clarify the suspicions. The naked girl had to present herself to city councilors and be pricked 24 times all over her body with a long sharp needle dipped in holy water. But this needle pricking did not provide any evidence of Barbara's guilt as a witch. In front of the judge and many curious councilors, I focused on her most interesting areas – breasts, thighs, pussy and buttocks. Barbara squealed loudly and many tears flowed, but blood dripped everywhere I pricked her tender flesh. The petition from the miller's family, supplemented by a generous 'attendance fee' for the councilors, was heard and the torture was suspended before it had even started.

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Barbara has to face the needle test to prove her guilt or innocence as a witch (witch pricking)

I cursed: "You can't catch witches like that! Johanne is dead, turned to ashes. A few drops of blood cannot relieve a witch. Of course it was the Miller's daughter with the thunderstorm... I should have tortured her for at least one day; she would certainly have confessed to everything…" But the judge just shrugged.

Finally, the bishop intervened personally and confirmed the view that the witch Johanne was still to blame for the storm after her death ... but that broke her curse, he announced. Barbara was released, but I ended up almost empty-handed.

I claimed the girl's thigh debt for my careful work with the long, well-sharpened witch needle. That would at least be a little consolation... But the parents paid off all of their daughter's debts.

No torture, hardly any money, no work, no fun, no fucking... I've seen bad times coming. I even saw myself gnawing at the hunger cloth, although I had got used to a good, prosperous life ... How much longer could I live on my savings and the wages for the witch Johanne? How much longer would they blame her for every misfortune? Do I have to earn my meager bread again with thieves, vagrants and rabble?


Then I received a call from a neighboring county where I was supposed to help control the plague of witches that had broken out there. There was a lot of work for me over the next few months. I soon realized with relief that a good executioner with a lot of experience in witch torture would always be needed somewhere, because the devil never rested ... he always found new victims who later stubbornly refused to admit their crimes.

So I lived well as a witch executioner and torturer, and soon I was even able to afford two journeymen. Together we had a lot of fun in our work and the three of us managed even faster to wrest a confession from the witches on torture.

84
Master Egbert at his work together with two journeymen... There is a friendly, almost familiar atmosphere in the small torture chamber... Only the poor young witch is in dire straits, she will not be able to withstand the torture for much longer... After her confession, she’ll have to thank the master and the two journeymen for the intensive care and the solid torture work. So she will pleasure the three men with her mouth and between her legs in her cell. Besides, her body will be cleansed from the devil by fucking. As a reward for her there is fresh straw and decent food... After all, she should at least receive a red-hot iron in her tender breast and be able to scream vigorously in the flames at the stake.


Only sometimes did I wonder if it wasn't the devil after all, who whispered bad accusations against innocent women and girls in the ears of blameless citizens, so that they would then be sued, tortured and burned as witches ... while we never caught the real witches because of the devil's ruse.

Of course, these were heretical thoughts, and as an executioner I wasn't entitled to them. I myself was just a cog in this clockwork of the devil's work and witch hunt. I worked for whoever paid me and I granted their wishes - I had no questions to ask. After all, I lived well with it. And yet I couldn't help wondering and have my thoughts...

Should I thank the devil for giving me work, bread and even wealth with his stubborn witches... because it was me who forced them to confess and later put them on the flames at the stake. Or should I thank those fanatics who kept calling for a witch hunt somewhere?

One thing seemed certain to me, I needed witches to live well ... and the witches needed me to receive their just punishment. We were forever caught in an unequal fight between witch and executioner. My tool in winning this fight was torture. The witches feared me and the torture, of course ... But I also helped them to break away from the devil and not plunge into eternal damnation - right?


85
The rising full moon is reflected in a stream – but the peaceful atmosphere is deceptive

A few years later...

I had never forgotten Johanne among the many other nameless witches... I often saw her in front of me in my daydreams... I saw her writhing in the flames at the stake and performing her witch's dance ... I saw her plump breasts helplessly in front of me which I tortured with the red-hot iron and with the hot claw... I saw her cheeky, excited nipples begging for punishment and which I finally tormented with the bite of glowing hot pliers... Sometimes I heard Johanne shriek in appreciation when I let her atone in my thoughts to save her soul... But suddenly I looked into her witch eyes, which frightened me and whose looks penetrated me with hatred and contempt.

Even at night I sometimes heard her screams, which roused me from sleep. And I wondered why I kept having her in front of my eyes, why she was chasing me at nigh ... Why her and not all the others? Was that her curse?

Then her curse really caught up with me ... Since the evening she was burned at the stake, I loved walking in the moonlight. Most of the time I wandered along a river, lake or stream just outside the city gates, where I was helping witches break free from the devil by torturing them. The gate guards already knew me. I was never afraid; after all, I was the hangman... I was the one that others feared. So I thought, until that evening that was to change everything... It was a bright full moon night again.

I walked out of the small town to a stream at the edge of the forest, a path that I had probably walked too often and too regularly. While I was looking at the moonlight reflected in the water of the stream, four hooded guys suddenly appeared in front of me and instantly ended the peaceful silence. The men were armed with large clubs. Without a word, they beat me from all sides. I fell to the ground; there was no way to protect myself. They repeatedly punched and kicked me, specifically targeting my arms and legs. I heard my bones splinter, the pain was beyond description. Then they ran away, leaving me completely helpless.

I was stunned by the pain and could barely move. I lay there powerless and thought that I was going to die. But at some point the will to survive came back. I dragged myself crawling; I had to take breaks again and again. Only in the morning I did reach the gate of the city, half dead. Although a doctor was called quickly, the bones in my arms and legs would not heal properly, the injuries were too severe. I needed sticks to walk... Worse, I would never again be able to torture a witch with my arms. I was a cripple and henceforth of poor health.

Now I live in need on the savings that have been left to me. As a consolation, I have to say that I trained the two journeymen so well that they can continue my work and even support me a little.

What kind of men were those who attacked me? Sure brothers, friends, the fiancé or husband of a witch I tortured and burned at the stake. But Johanne sent them, that was her curse, that was her late revenge... Now I can look forward to my sad fate and my misery in old age, if death does not take me away soon.

86
The witch has not played out yet ... the die does not roll as expected!

I wonder where I will meet Johanne again, in heaven or in hell. I don't know, but I am sure that I will meet her. Then she will greet me with the smile of a winner and at the same time with contempt. If it is in heaven, she will probably send me back to hell.

In the end, she had not lost our unequal fight... She had at least turned the game into a draw that I thought I’d surely won for myself.


Alternative Ending

If you don't like the fact that the torturer and executioner is finally caught by the curse of the witch and the evil deeds of his work, you should delete the very last section of my story and replace it with a final sentence from fairy tales:

And if Master Egbert has not died, he still tortures witches today and burns them at the stake...


The End


This concludes my story of Johanne, the witch girl, and of Master Egbert, the executioner and torturer. I hope you enjoyed it

May – June 2021,
Rupert

 

[Madiosi]

Well done, Rupert! This times all need a bit patience for e-book. Probably after I'm back home. I will flying tomorrow in holiday.

 

[Rupert_137]

Well done, Rupert! This times all need a bit patience for e-book. Probably after I'm back home. I will flying tomorrow in holiday.

My story was also a little longer this time ... and it is certainly not that easy with all the pictures.
Have a nice trip, have fun in your holiday!

 

[Rupert_137]

Addendum: Needle Test and Witch Pricking

In the epilogue of this story we only learn briefly something about the unfortunate and later happy coincidence of the miller's daughter Barbara. We can only speculate whether Johanne herself held her 'high hand' in this fateful turn … or whether the bishop as a level-headed man, wanted to prevent another witch hunt by taking up existing opinions in the population and blaming the thunderstorm pushed towards an already burned witch...

However, Barbara had to face witch pricking with a consecrated test needle, a widely recognized and widely used witch test at the time. The process of this witch test is only briefly described in the epilogue, which is why there are two pictures following on the subject and additional comments, also on 'fraudulent witch tests'.

In the final attack on Master Egbert there is of course again the opportunity to explain the fateful event with or without Johanne's 'curse'...


There was an idea that the devil would mark his newly seduced witch with a 'devil's mark' after their first sex. This small spot, which often looked like a mole or birthmark, became deserted, numb and bloodless. And it was precisely this devil's mark that had to be found in the needle test or the witch pricking. If the devil's mark was found, it was considered evidence of the witch's guilt. But if they didn't find it, that didn't necessarily mean the suspected woman's innocence. Perhaps the devil had hidden his marking too well, or, especially with young women, the devil's mark was not yet completely deserted because the process dragged on for years...


Pictures for the needle test (witch pricking) with artifacts from museums as a supplement to picture 83 of the story:

87_eng
Matthew Hopkins' original witch-pricking pin

88_eng
“Get ready for the witch pricking, girl! We’ll start with your boobs… then tights, pussy and buttocks… 24 deep pricks have been set for your witch test.”


In Scotland they obviously preferred more solid tools... The massive handle also made it possible to retract the needle secretly and to fake a prick without blood and pain: fraudulent witch test. The devil was a liar and a deceiver too – why should the witch hunters be honest?

 

[Rupert_137]

Here's another witch fantasy...

From the four comics 'Hilda by Kovacq' I pulled Hilda's dreams as Princess Hildegard and put them together into a new witch fantasy ... without Hilda's 'now-time experiences' and with significantly less hardcore fantasy in the past.

The attached files are only intended for private use and not for further distribution.
(The file was too big for the whole story because of the many pictures, so I had to split it into two sections)

You can find the original comics by Kovacq under the link below.

Hilda | 8muses - Sex and Porn Comics

A huge collection of free porn comics for adults. Read Hanz Kovacq Comics/Hilda online for free at 8muses.com

comics.8muses.com

Have fun,
Rupert

 

[Ireliakinkygirl]

Chapter 19 – Johanne's lacking Understanding of Necessities

The judge's love of order led me, accompanied by the clerk, to Johanne's cell again. She was crying, but otherwise she was still in good condition. I explained straight away what it was about, but it made her angry. “You just want me to justify the injustice of my desecration by dirty rabble ... No, never! I didn't do anything to these men..."

"I think it's not worth arguing about ... The clerk adds a small addendum to your confession protocol and you sign it ... What happened, happened anyway."

"No, I'm not going to justify the fact that the smelly guys, whom I didn't know in any way, raped me several times and were allowed to abuse me again and again. Their cocks smelled of urine and putrefaction, as if they had never been washed ... and yet I had to receive those disgusting dicks deep in my pussy, worse still, I had to please them with my mouth and lick them clean. I even had to swallow the filthy men’s cum until I felt sick. The guards forced me do this, and they raped me too... No, that was wrong and that's how it stays! "

She was really angry, but she didn’t even know what else was in store for her and that she was still a long way from paying all her thigh debt. In any case, Johanne had recovered well under my care and had obviously regained much of her indomitable will. So I hoped for her understanding and tried to explain the matter to her in more detail.

“Unfortunately, you see that wrong, Johanne, as a witch you have a thigh debt to anyone who asks for it. It's enough that they feel damaged by you. You certainly do not have a right to cleanliness. I'm sorry, but if these guys are filthy and stinky, then you have to accept them that way." She looked at me in disbelief.

"The witch shouldn't get in line like that... The devil certainly didn't smell of flowers and fresh hay either," the clerk rebuked her.

"Actually, there would be no need to extend your confession ... What the guys wanted from you this morning; they were entitled to, if they felt harmed by you before...” That was the somewhat controversial legal basis for her rape and abuse. But I wanted to make it easier for her to see.

“You have to know; these tramps have starved, frozen and suffered a lot in their life. They could only dream of having sex with a young woman like you ... even as a witch you are attractive to them... And the judge is just a very conscientious person; he wants you to admit your guilt for their suffering and to confirm the right of these poor men to your thighs and pussy... I mean, none of that really matters to you as a witch.”

"Nothing is in order here, absolutely nothing! I’m not to blame for the suffering of these men!”

Unfortunately, Johanne showed no understanding and was still upset. Well, I could understand her anger a little, but I wanted to comply with the judge's request. As a witch, she had to submit, even if she didn't want to accept the necessities.

“Then I have to torture you again, do you really want that? Believe me; the pain really isn't worth a little fucking."

“Then even torture me. You know very well that this statement is a lie!"

"As you want, I'm only doing my duty... And besides, you were nice to me, why not also please these beggars and vagabonds?” She just looked at me with evil eyes."

I brought a pair of thumbscrews into her cell and showed them to the girl. "Put your two thumbs in the holes ... then I'll turn the screw until your blood oozes out, or until you give in ... But do you really want to do that to yourself, Johanne?"

"I have to burn at the stake anyway, why do I still need my thumbs?" She said defiantly.

So I started my work. She did what I asked and didn't resist.

"Ouch ... ah ... uh ... ouch," she began to moan. I kept turning the screw until she screamed. “Come on, Johanne, don't be stubborn! What's that supposed to mean ... it's not worth it!"

View attachment 1013710 57
Johanne's thumbs are going to be crushed; she is supposed to expand her confession

She shook her head and I continued to turn the screw until the first blood flowed. But she still did not want to sign the additional protocol to her confession. "I didn't know these men who raped me here ... I didn't harm them, I have no thigh debts!"

The clerk scolded: "Always stubborn and unruly, this witch ... She has admitted to us the unbridled lust of her thighs ... She should be glad that she is offered a little variety down here in the cell ... And as dirty as she is, it would be more appropriate to be grateful that men are still interested in her..."

His words only made Johanne angrier. I could have crushed her thumbs further, but I chose something different. "If you don't want it any other way, then I'll have to squeeze your witch tits... Maybe that'll bring you to your senses!"

I chose a simple model without nails and spikes, after all, we still needed her tits for the further punishments on her way to the stake, which luckily she didn't know anything about.

I held out the breast press to her and asked, “Are you really going to do this to yourself?"

She looked at the device in amazement. But then she still said defiantly "I don't need my tits at the stake either!" "As you mean ... But you will notice that your boobs still hurt when I squeeze them."

View attachment 1013711 58_eng
"If you are unreasonable, I have to squeeze your witch tits."

Johanne watched attentively as I put the breast press on her and turned the screws. She breathed deeply, but she didn't fight back; I didn't even have to tie her hands. It seemed to me that she was determined to take that test. Perhaps in her anger she was even curious to feel what it would feel like when I squeezed her tits with this tool. I was determined to give her a taste.

I thought: Witches like Johanne repeatedly challenged me as a torturer. Did she want to fight or play with me? How stupid, I would accept the challenge and win this game too.

Slowly but steadily, I squeezed her tits flat together until they bulged out at the front and turned first dark red, then blue. She closed her eyes and finally she began to moan in discomfort. I turned the screws a little more and then stopped.

View attachment 1013712 59a
"Well, how does that feel? Now I turn the screw very slowly. Soon it will hurt!"

"Do you finally want to sign, or is that still not enough?" She shook her head unreasonably.

She didn't want to give up that quickly and suddenly I liked that. Yes, she was a strong witch girl, she deserved my respect ... And yet, I would defeat her and break her resistance this time too. I quickly grabbed a thin cane and hit her several times from the front on the squeezed tits.

"Uh ah ow ah!" She yelped and I realized that it hurt a lot. I had found her weak point.

I hit hard twice more, aiming at her injured buds one after the other. Oh how she howled! Despite her curiosity about the tit press, she surely didn't like this attack.

View attachment 1013713 59b
"If you're still stubborn, I'll have to beat your squeezed boobs with a cane."

"Ow ... ah ... uh ... ah!" she screamed loud and hard before moaning a little longer. These blows finally had the desired effect.

"All right ... What else is it ... I bewitched the tramps with an evil curse... Is it that what you want to hear?"

I defeated her again and yet I was a little disappointed that she gave up our game just as it was getting interesting and serious.

"Yes, that is exactly your correct admission!" The clerk said happily. "Are you going to sign the addendum to your confession now?"

She nodded: "But you both know that this is a wrong confession!"

"Come on, Johanne, it was an honest admission... Show us your understanding," I wanted to correct her.

"No, it's just all lies that I had to confess now and some days before … and then I had to sign!"

I shrugged my shoulders, but the clerk got angry: “Be careful, witch! It will be a while before you burn at the stake. If it were up to me, I would have you whipped publicly for your cheeky words!"

I tried to calm the man down, "She's a little stubborn, like witches are."

“Let her confirm that all her confessions are correct! Otherwise I'll talk to the judge and make sure that the witch is whipped first thing tomorrow."

By these words the witch girl felt a little queasy. A light tap on her hard nipples with my cane was enough to convince her. "Come on; say what the clerk wants to hear." She gave in, "I'll sign ... The confessions are correct."

For her insight I released Johanne from the breast press. As the blood rushed back to her tits, I heard her wail again.

The clerk had already prepared the short text, which she drew with a bit of difficulty with a pinched thumb with 'Johanne'. "Now everything is in order!" The man sighed, relieved. "She's really stubborn and unreasonable, this witch!"

We left her in her cell. In any case, we both had done our duty. Johanne's rape, abuse and desecration were now ordered according to the law. But I didn't have a good feeling about it. The only thing she signed in her additional protocol was that she had harmed nameless tramps and beggars with a witch's curse, so that they were starving and freezing. The number of victims was not given and so far she had only endured the first round of her rapes and disgraces.

amazing I love the rack

 

[Rupert_137]

The Witch Flayers

In my story "The Witch and the Executioner", water torture was instrumental in getting the victim to confess. I can honestly imagine that having to swallow huge amounts of water is horribly excruciating - worse than terrible pain that you can sort of anticipate...

I've rediscovered a story that describes a water torture even much more intensely than I've done here (Chapter 13).
Like the initial idea for this story, I found the text on the "shot-up page" Grenzbereich.org - for years there have been no more stories there, only the following title picture:



Therefore I cannot give a link to this story, which was written in German: "Die Hexenschinder - The Witch Flayers".
It was an erotic torture fantasy, but with a very intense and serious description of water torture.
The text was written by an author under the name "Angelika".

I would like to express my thanks for her great story and I hope she will not object if I post the excerpt from "Water Torture" here as a translation.
Because I no longer have the original and I'll be translating the text into English anyway, I've described the original text a little more in detail; especially there, where a few things had remained unclear to me... Nevertheless, it was a great template!

I don't know if the descriptions themselves are correct, but I think they are very intensely written.
I honestly can't imagine how you can swallow with a funnel in your mouth - you need the tongue, which opens and closes the palate. But I don't even want to try it...

The excerpt from the story follows (two chapters)...

 

[Rupert_137]

The Witch Flayers


Angelica in terrible need and in great agony

What happened? Rumors have been circulating that Angelica is a witch and that she is fornicating with the devil.
Her employer wanted her to face the judge to have the allegations settled, or he would report her himself...
So she goes to the judge with a heavy heart and soon she meets the two witch flayers Jekel and Bartel, who are supposed to take her on the embarrassing questioning and torture.
Angelica has to undress in front of the men and has to endure a needle test (witch pricking). Then it gets really serious. Her torture begins with a strappado.
When she can't take the pain any longer, she is tempted to offer herself to the two witch flayers in fornication to prove that she hasn't been dealing with the devil. But the result of her 'lust test' is not entirely convincing. That's why she has to face the final water torture.
Angelika is laid over the spiked rabbit and tied to the rack...


Well prepared and perfectly sealed for the great thirst...

Well sealed

I felt weak, my breasts were throbbing, my crotch was sore and my back ached from the wooden spikes I was resting on. I really hoped I was over it now, but I was wrong.

Jekel came to my side and became very serious. "You haven't gotten through it yet... We haven't been able to convict you as a witch yet, but witches are often good at disguising... And you haven't really been challenged so far… Therefore I have to examine you very seriously again, that's what the judge has agreed on."

I looked at him startled and shook my head.

"Do you want to prove your innocence or not?" "Yes sir, I do!" So I was forced to surrender to his further torture.

“I want to start something very painful and threatening with you. I derive more pleasure from your torments than from the fornication I commit with you. You are a pretty girl, Angelica. This alone gives me a very special pleasure. I don't want to do any lasting damage to you, but it will be very intense for you... It will eclipse everything you have experienced so far."

Now I was really scared.

I have plans for you that I last did two years ago. She was such a pretty young lady too, just a girl like you. She too was accused of being a witch...”

He now used both hands to feel me.

"Your perky tits and your horny pussy are burning hot, but that wasn't a serious ailment..."

I felt insecurity and fear. What would he do to me? What was I getting myself into? I feel too weak for any more torture.

"I want to give you a drink. Nothing special, just ordinary water. Only the amount you have to consume is unusual. I'll let you swallow a total of seven jugs. Already the first pot will quench your thirst more completely, because they are big pots.” He showed me the jug.

I looked at him in disbelief. "Seven jugs, sir? You want to drown me."

He laughed. "I like you. Drown, that's right, you might think. No, I want to bloat you up and almost burst you. For each day of the week you will gulp down a pitcher of water. It's going to be a long week for you, even if it doesn't last much longer than an hour. Your body should be filled like a bulging pig's bladder. Maybe even a little plumper..."

I was heartbroken. "For God's sake, this is going to kill me."

His hands brushed my hips and then up my sides. "No, don't kill, but bring you closer to a confession, much closer than you think. Your body is young and flexible, but it will fight back fiercely.”

Despite all the fear and weakness, indignation rose up in me. "No, you won't get a confession... I'm not a witch!" My anger brought my resolve back to me.

Now he let me go. "But sir," I said to him, "will you pour all the water into me at once?"

Smiling, he shook his head. "No, I'll take my time, lots of time. Slowly, sip by sip, you will feel all the drinking and your suffering. After every jug, I'll give you a chance to talk. You'll end up with a funnel in your mouth that's hard to talk through, but perfect for pouring water. If you want to breathe, you'll have to swallow... That's why I take out the funnel after every empty jug. I give you time to speak and to confess... For only your confession will end the ordeal prematurely.”

"I'll probably need a great thirst to get through this."

He let go of me and laughed while patting my shoulder. "I like you. Nobody has ever joked.”

I was surprised myself that I suddenly spoke so casually to him, even though I was in great danger. I tried to cover up my great fear.

His hand came closer and closer to my lap until I felt it on my shame. Moaning cautiously, I moved my violated and whipped pussy.

"So far there's nothing more than breakfast in your stomach, and your bladder probably doesn't hurt either... What Barthel and I left inside your lap is hardly worth mentioning... That will change soon, very much painful for you to change!”

I sighed, feeling more fear and already a great deal of uneasiness.

"For talking... you say, does this funnel come out? So before I get the last jug, I have six chances to speak..."

He smiled at me, "Maybe you'll just nod your head at the end..." Then he disappeared for a moment. He came back with an empty vat in his hands. He pushed this next to me.

"So that your mess doesn't pollute everything here afterwards... But first I have to close your exits."

Then he held a cone-shaped, wooden peg in front of my face, which was turned in such a way that it was round and slender at the front, widened towards the back and tapered significantly towards the end, before the handle came.

"I'll push the stopper up your ass so whatever I pour in you doesn't come out the back."

I was startled. "Oh please don't get that monster up my butt..."

"It's the only way to lock it securely." Then he spat on the rounded tip.


Plug to close the butt

Although this announcement, considering everything that had already happened to me, didn't seem particularly bad to me, it still hit me like a punch in the pit of the stomach. But I didn't have the opportunity to think about it any longer, because I already felt Jekel putting the plug on my anus. Involuntarily I clenched my buttocks and spasmed.

"Better relax; I'll definitely force this nasty thing up your ass!"

He kept pushing, forcing the wood in with a persistent push and twist. It hurt so bad, I cried out. I held my breath and tried to open myself. The plug came deeper and deeper into me, my butt being stretched mercilessly. It hurt, it really hurt badly and I could feel my asshole bleeding. It was like a little torture.

I moaned in relief to have survived the procedure and at the same time in agony because I felt closed off.

Jekel looked me in the face with a shameless grin. "I almost think you liked that. You are an insatiable.”

I shook my head, startled at his suspicion. "No, sir, I have... It was so painful, I was just relieved to be over it."

After he inserted the wooden plug all the way into me, I realized that I could no longer actively displace the seal of my butt. When I pressed, I only felt sharp pains.

"That was the first part. I also have to block the drainage of your piss." He showed me a kind of wooden knitting needle, its head was conspicuously thickened behind the point, before the long, thin shaft of the needle with the handle followed.

"This is going to hurt a bit!" With these words he disappeared with the strange knitting needle between my legs. He used his fingers to open my labia, which were still swollen and smeared with sperm. He bathed the head of the needle a bit in the goo; then he looked inside my vulva for the exit of my urethra with the tip.


Pen for closing the urethra

It pricked and I jerked involuntarily because the drain for my pee was very sensitive. What followed was even worse than I could have imagined. The head of the knitting needle was a bit too thick, but he was still agonizingly forcing the wood down the small, narrow drain tube of my urethra. I screamed and shrieked with every push and twist.

Finally the spear slipped into my bladder, he pulled it back a bit until he felt a clear resistance. "So, now you are well locked!"

He put his hand on my stomach and stroked it. "It's still very flat and soft. Afterwards, when you've got the last pot, it'll be plump and hard as a rock. You can only pass this test if God is with you and not the devil!”

I felt deep fears, but I tried to distract myself. "Two years ago was the last time you did this test? And she was pretty and about my age? Has she confessed?

Now his smile became almost good-natured. "Yes, she confessed everything, even more than we wanted to hear from her before. She even told how she did it with the devil... Unfortunately, I didn't get to the last jug because of that. Maybe you can swallow seven jugs before you make your confession. But the other girl had to burn at the stake as a witch.”

"Yes, sir, I shall have to finish this last pot, for there is no confession I can make... I am not a witch! I will not climb the pyre..."

He winked at me cunningly. "We'll see... Whatever you say."

Then he disappeared for a moment and came back with a funnel with a large stopper at the outlet. "This thing has to go inside your mouth now!"

I was startled and didn't feel good about what was about to happen.

"Open your mouth." I obeyed. I had to open my mouth as wide as I could because the stopper barely fit in.

Leather straps were pulled over my forehead and around my neck. These were strapped to the board under my head. I was barely able to look left or right unless I moved my eyes. An attempt to say something smothered mumbling and hollow in the funnel.

"So, that's done, you're well closed at the bottom and perfectly open at the top to pour a lot of water into your body, you just have to swallow."

I felt helpless at his mercy. He looked at me and surely sensed my discomfort.

"Now are you afraid, my little dove? So I ask you once again: are you a witch? And I beg you, be honest!” I couldn't speak, so I shook my head as well as I could.

"Good, then let’s begin!"

Yes, I was really scared at that moment.


Now you have to swallow well...

 

[Rupert_137]

Lots of water


You have to drink 7 jugs of water to prove whether you're a witch or innocent

Barthel patted my cheek to comfort me. "Calm down, Angelica. There is now the first jug. That's not bad at all. You will be thirsty and you should enjoy it.”

I actually turned my full attention to the funnel. The jug rose above him and Jekel tilted it until the first water began to flow. It splashed into the funnel and trickled into my mouth. My gaping jaws prevented me from swallowing and so I immediately got the first water in my lungs. I spluttered and tried to cough up. It shot out of my nose and back into the funnel. Then I wanted to take a breath, but the water wouldn't allow it. At first I thought I was going to suffocate. Then I realized there was only one way out. I had to swallow.

I choked down the water convulsively. It wasn't easy with the stopper of the funnel in my mouth because I needed my tongue to swallow. I also had to fight the constant urge to cough. Finally I succeeded with a lot of effort and as a reward I got some air again.

Jekel looked down at me with a smile. "So? Now you surely know what is important. You have to drink the funnel nice and clean before you breathe; and you have to swallow even with a full mouth. I won't be considerate. If you don't swallow properly, you will choke. So drink it all up, my dove"

To show that I understood him, I nodded a little and closed my eyes for a moment. I wanted to show him my r willingness, but I hoped that he would empty the jug into the funnel quite slowly.

And so it happened. Even if it was difficult for me at first with the funnel in my mouth, I swallowed the water that followed in regular gulps. He gave me time and I managed to breathe through my nose between them without choking. I was almost proud when I drank all the water from the first jug.

As promised, Jekel took the funnel out of my mouth. My eyes immediately sought his gaze. "Sorry for being so clumsy at first."

He nodded. "You did it well." His words were like praise to me.

“Yes, sir, I really want to endure the torture. You'll see I'm innocent."

Now he shrugged. "That will be seen when you have drunk the seven jugs of water... Now open your mouth so I can put the funnel in. We continue with the second jug.”

I obeyed without hesitation, although my mouth had trouble absorbing the funnel with the large stopper, I had to force myself. At the same time, the funnel blocked my view and I could hardly move my head. I could only close my eyes or stare at the ceiling.

Jekel fetched more water and poured it into the funnel. It gurgled and I began to swallow heartily. Over time I got more practice drinking, but with the plug in my mouth it was really difficult to swallow. At the same time, I found it increasingly difficult to get the water down. My stomach filled up, making me feel full and inevitably pushing against it.

I was trying not to falter. My whole body trembled from the exertion. Despite gagging, I managed to drink the full funnel before I could breathe. When the pot finally ran out of water to refill, I groaned until it roared tinny.

Jekel removed the funnel from me. I suppressed a groan with difficulty. He checked my stomach. "I can already feel it clearly... But it will feel even much harder and your stomach will really swell."

My body gurgled and rumbled. I was already sick. I had to think of the woman of the same age who had been tortured by Jekel two years ago. Why hadn't she been able to endure the last jug? It would have been just this one... Although I didn't even know her name, I felt connected to her. Would I be able to make it through to the end? I had serious doubts, but I just had to do it.

I looked tensely at Jekel. He smiled almost sympathetically. Barthel and the judge also watched with sympathy.

"Well, that was a little tiring, wasn't it?" I nodded my head strapped as best I could.

His smile gave way to a cheerful expression. "Well, if you don't want to make a confession, let's continue, the third jug is already waiting for you."

Immediately I had the funnel in my mouth again. But before Jekel filled the jug with water again, he got two plugs of wax, kneaded them a bit and put them in my nostrils. Immediately I felt panic rising in me.

"It's necessary," he explained, "You've learned to swallow now, but your stomach will fight back soon... You'll only breathe through your nose and won't drink anymore. That's why I have to force you to swallow. Now your only chance to breathe is through the funnel when it is empty. It forces you to drink it all up because you just have to breathe.”

I widened my eyes in shock. My breathing suddenly quickened. I forced myself to be calm because I couldn't afford to get excited. And yet I could have pissed myself with fear, but my bladder was well closed.

Before the first water flowed into the funnel, I took another breath. Then he poured and I drank. I felt panic again because my nose and mouth were closed. I struggled, trying to swallow all the water with the big stopper inside my mouth and then breathe air through the funnel. I succeeded and I was relieved, but it was a struggle and so it went on...


Cruel torture – a never-ending cycle – an ever more agonizing struggle to swallow and to breathe...

I slowly got the rhythm and used the emptied funnel to breathe quickly and deeply. Concentrating on the laborious swallowing distracted me. Still, it got difficult because I felt a painful spasm in my throat. But I had no choice if I didn't want to suffocate. The water had to come out of the funnel. So I made every effort and drank eagerly.

There was a regular alternation between my breathing, Jekel 's refilling and my forced drinking. Despite the growing nausea, this gave me new courage and distraction, because I knew that I could only breathe again if I drank without hesitation.

After I managed the third jug and Jekel had taken the funnel out of me, I groaned loudly and had to choke. However, I did not vomit any of the water.

"Oh dear..." I groaned, "I'm so miserable. My whole tummy is full, I can't drink any more water."

Jekel laughed maliciously. "Then you want to confess that you are a witch?" I shook my head and looked at my stomach, it was now clearly bulging.

"Then you'll have to keep swallowing! There's still a long way to go."

Without waiting for another word from me, he pushed the funnel between my jaws. I gaped wide and reluctantly let the mouthpiece in.

"So, my dear, with the fourth jug things start to get serious."

He touched my stomach again, which I couldn't see myself now. "It's really hard and plump," he said with satisfaction.

He came with the filled fourth jug and immediately poured the funnel full to the brim.

I was struggling to get everything down. However – shortly before my strength threatened to leave me, and I felt the panic building up again – I managed to empty the cup and I gasped for air. I couldn't take a deep breath because my body was already hurting too much. But Jekel gave me time for panting.

Now he gave me smaller portions. It wasn't any less excruciating, although I was able to breathe a little more often now, because it was dragging on for an awfully long time. The squeezing, stabbing, and pinching in my abdomen increased. It burbled and gurgled constantly. And the urge to breathe forced me to swallow again and again. It was a never-ending, agonizing cycle.

When the fourth pot was finally empty and he took out the funnel, I just groaned and was totally exhausted. My stomach and bowels were in excruciating pain, and I couldn't imagine drinking three more jugs of water. Now I got an idea why the other woman had given up before the last jug.

"Would you rather make a confession or should I continue?" "No, I'm not confessing, I'm not a witch!"

"As you wish... But it will be the last time that I take the funnel out of your mouth and you can speak. After the next jug you will only be able to nod your head a little or shake it. I can't risk you throwing up some of the water we've worked so hard to get into you."

I understood and nodded. Then I looked at my swollen stomach for the last time, in which my intestines were already pressing very painfully.

Now it went on mercilessly for me with the fifth jug. All the water seemed to tear me apart inside. It tore and pinched like pincers were digging in my gut. The urge to defecate was unbearable. However, the plug in my butt prevented any exit and so there was no relief for me... My bladder also filled vigorously and urged painfully to empty, but it was cruelly closed.

"You have to pee, you must relieve yourself?" Jekel asked satisfied. "I hope you have to! But I've made sure not a drop you swallow comes out."

This fifth pot was incredibly agonizing, my pain was unbearable. My whole body was screaming and I was crying miserably. But sip by sip, I forced the water in just to breathe. I was indescribably nauseous, but I couldn't relieve myself. There was only one orifice in my body that wasn't closed and I could only breathe through it if I swallowed the water first. Swallow, or suffocate... or confess, but that too would have meant my horrible death at the stake.

There was no pity. The funnel stayed in my mouth. "Are you a witch?" In despair I just shook my head slightly.


The belly swells ... until it is close to bursting...

The last two jugs of water follow...

 

[montycrusto]

Very good description, and I love the Pichard pics too (from “The Countess in Red”, I think). Your writing makes it all horribly chokingly breathlessly stomachtighteningly real!

edit: “The Countess in Red” was posted in full here:

The Countess In Red By Georges Pichard

The fascinations inebriate of horror only the strong BAUDELAIRE

www.cruxforums.com

 

[Rupert_137]

Going through Hell

My agony of swallowing and breathing continued, although it had to stop immediately. I was at the end of my strength and endurance. But it didn't stop. The penultimate jug of water drove me to more despair. I was no longer myself. I lost the ability to think clearly. The pain and the tremendous pressure in my body overwhelmed everything. It was so dominating that I lost all further feeling.

Sweat poured out of my pores and the misery made me forget almost everything else. Only one thing was pounding in me, I couldn't give up. As hard as the pain was, I had to keep my will. “No, no, no,” it kept pounding in my head, “no more drinking!” After all, the compulsion to breathe was now my only ally against everything that blocked me from swallowing and drinking more. I really felt like being in hell...

Once again Jekel asked me if I finally want to confess to being a witch. I shook my head weakly and with difficulty. Again the funnel stayed in my mouth to prevent me from vomiting. My sore gums burned, but that was the least of my needs.

"Think it over carefully!" They gave me time to think and savor my torment. I was so weak, the torture was so cruel, I felt like I was about to burst.

The judge came up to me, “Confess, child, confess! Don't do that to you, Angelica, confess!"

I was so miserable, I was so desperate, but that was betrayal by the judge. He wanted to hear my confession; he wanted to convict me as a witch! In fact, it gave me some strength and the will to fight one last time. But deep in my heart I would have wanted to shout out, "Yes, I am a witch!" even if it was a lie – a deadly lie – and that forced me to persevere because I wanted to live. And I even couldn't speak...

Then Barthel said to me, "Don't make it so difficult for yourself, Angelica!" No, I had to go through it, even if I couldn't go on anymore … and had to keep going through hell.

So the last jug had to be drunk. I was barely sane. Every breath stabbed through my gut. I thought my heart had to stop. The strength in me was fading. My consciousness flowed away. There were no other thoughts except those of my need and my pain. I no longer noticed what was happening around me. My sense of time disappeared. My suffering never ended. I could only swallow tiny amounts of water, but Jekel gave me time and prolonged my agony, but he didn't let me suffocate.

No, I just couldn't swallow anymore... But he just kept giving me the cruel choice of swallow or die. My stomach, my belly, my bowels, my bladder, everything was filled to bursting with water. The compulsion to empty myself down between my legs was tremendous, but the exits were securely locked. I briefly tried to squeeze out the locks, but it didn't work, it just sapped my strength.

So I fought on, first swallowing then breathing. My nausea turned into a constant, roaring and angry pain that gripped my whole body and clouded my head. I forced myself, even when I couldn't anymore... Swallow, swallow, swallow and then breathe. And the water ran again...

It seemed like forever, I was about to give up, so close to the finish. Then suddenly the steady flow of water into my mouth stopped. I could finally breathe freely and long. I didn't really get it, but I had made it. I had drunk seven large jugs of water in indescribable agony. The water had made my whole body swell; my stomach looked like I was pregnant. And I was still afraid that I would have to die because I would be torn apart inside.

It still didn't end, I felt in unimaginable misery. I couldn't tell how long I had to endure in my torment with the seven jugs of water in my body. In any case, no one lifted a finger to take my pain away. As if from afar, I heard the voice of the judge. They pulled the funnel out of my mouth and they began to loosen my hands and feet. After I was finally freed from the rack they lifted me from the thorn rolls of the spiked rabbit.


Filled up to bursting and waiting for liberation...

I roared in excruciating pain that filled my whole body. I sank to my knees, too weak to move. My belly was rock hard and terribly swollen. Jekel pushed the big vat towards me. He bent me over it. No sooner had the funnel removed from my mouth and the wax removed from my nose than my agonizing gagging erupted into violent vomiting.

It must have been disgusting, but I didn't notice that. It burst out of me like a burst trough and poured through my throat, mouth and nose into the vat.

I also had to empty myself from my other end. For this I was put on the edge of the vat. The plug from my butt was removed painfully; removing the knitting needle from my blocked urethra was even more agonizing. I yelped, it hurt so much... But it was nothing compared to the agony I felt throughout my body before.

It shot out of me loudly. The awkwardness of that moment could hardly cloud my relief. The tearing pinching in my intestines finally subsided and my belly flattened out again, although it still felt tensed.

After I had given up most of the water, Jekel spread an old blanket on the floor and laid me down on it. Misery as I still felt, I curled up on top of the blanket. I began to freeze terribly and I was shaking like fever.

Jekel nudged me with the tip of his toe. "So, what's on? Are you a witch now?”

Exhausted, I lifted my head and looked at him. "No, I'm not a witch... haven't I proved that yet?"

He laughed happily. "Why so dogged? I congratulate you, you made it. The judge left earlier. We're supposed to clean you up, get you dressed, and then take you upstairs to him. What do you say, Angelica?"

At first I couldn't believe it, but then the joy came with a vengeance. I actually made it. I began to cry uncontrollably. Even after that I felt feverish and I had to pee again and again, but now it was a wonderful relief.

An hour later I was washed up and dressed again in the office. I was still very weak. Barthel had to support me as the judge read his verdict, which ended with the words: "After serious and very painful examination, I hereby acquit Angelica Tailor of any suspicion of witchcraft."

Despite my exhaustion and the terrible torment I experienced, I felt proud that I had endured the horrific torture with my strong will. And I understood, as an accused witch, I had to go through hell to prove my innocence. And yet I had come back... But if I had failed, I would have been burned at the stake and the flames of hell fire would have swallowed me up for ever.


Angelica isn't emptied in such a cruel way, but this picture shows a lot of her misery...
And yet, she also has to empty herself on the other side. What has gotten into the intestines has to go out again through the anus or the bladder. There is no way back to the mouth after passing the stomach!

Many thanks to Montycrusto for his hint to Pichard and the “The Countess in Red”!

The End so far...


The story has a brief, happy ending. Her employer, a widower, takes Angelica home. He was always convinced of her innocence. He gives her a golden ring and asks Angelica if she would like to marry him - of course he could not marry an accused witch. That will take care of her worries that the witch flayers might have made her pregnant during the 'lust test' as part of her torture...

 

[Rupert_137]

Some more pictures...

Since I have already referred to stories from the deactivated site 'Grenzbereich.org' twice here (#1. #50), it might be appropriate to post the pictures I have collected from this source here as well.

The pictures are often more intended to make you smile than to scare you... and please excuse that the texts in the speech bubbles are in German like the original.

Here is the first block of images:

 

[Rupert_137]

Here is the second block of images:

 

[Mastodont]

Some more pictures...

Since I have already referred to stories from the deactivated site 'Grenzbereich.org' twice here (#1. #50), it might be appropriate to post the pictures I have collected from this source here as well.

The pictures are often more intended to make you smile than to scare you... and please excuse that the texts in the speech bubbles are in German like the original.

Here is the first block of images:

View attachment 1133420 View attachment 1133421 View attachment 1133422 View attachment 1133423 View attachment 1133424
View attachment 1133425 View attachment 1133426 View attachment 1133427 View attachment 1133428 View attachment 1133429

There have been many hot stories on this site about resilient and stubborn witches who don't want to admit to witchcraft. And about spies who were captured and interrogated in order to get secret information from them. Unfortunately, the site was closed.

 

[Rupert_137]

The third block of images, a last one will follow...

 

[Ireliakinkygirl]

The third block of images, a last one will follow...

View attachment 1134548 View attachment 1134549 View attachment 1134551 View attachment 1134553 View attachment 1134555
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mmm could be nice be volunteer

 

[Rupert_137]

mmm could be nice be volunteer

Try sitting on the piky wooden chair... that would be worth an experience...