The witch of Zugarramurdi

[Doragon]

The witch of Zugarramurdi​

(Inspired by the movie Akelarre 1984 – not following that story though)

Zugarramurdi, 1605, in the region of Navarre. The village is small, close to the border between Spain and France. The inhabitants are mostly Basque, but the Spanish overseers rule here in the person of Don Fermin de Andueza. He is not very powerful and hardly recognizable as a lord. But he was appointed as mayor and he is the most wealthy man in the region because he owns a lot of pigs. According to the locals he also has the manners of a pig. Most Spanish lack manners and the Basque hate their dominion. However, uprisings have always been struck down with abundant violence and the people of Zugarramurdi have learned to settle and abide, allowing the situation to continue while being ruled by a foreigner.

 

[Doragon]

1


Garazi was a young woman of twenty years old, living in a small house at the edge of town. Her mother and father were dead, so she had to take care of her own needs by working in a local tavern as a wench and by washing clothes for other villagers. Originally her family came from France and they had fled after the terrible witch hunts there, which had cost her grandmother her life at the stake. This was something Garazi often thought about but she never spoke about it and if people knew, they didn’t seem to remember.

Garazi was in love with Unai, a strong and attractive young man that was the last descendant of the original rulers of the region. He was headstrong and stubborn and often challenged the Spanish authorities, especially when they forced higher taxes on the villagers or when more young men were forced to join in the army. Relations between Spain and France were not well and there were ever more soldiers needed to patrol the borders. The local council protested against policies of the Spanish rulers, but never so much that an armed intervention was called for. And often the elderly men kept Unai at bay so as not to irritate the Spanish too much.

Unai returned the love of Garazi but had not asked for her hand yet. The political situation demanded too much of his attention and often he didn’t have enough time left to think about the future or spend time with his loved one. This was something other men also noticed and often they presented themselves to Garazi as more fitting suitors, something she always turned down.

Often the young men of the village, some not even having reached an age suitable of marriage yet, went over to the creek to watch Garazi washing clothes. There were other women there as well, all doing the same thing, but it was Garazi that drew the most attention. Especially on warm days, when she had stripped off her dress and worked in nothing but her undershirt. It was tough work and it was too warm to be fully dressed. Besides, she wanted to keep her dress dry because in the evening she worked in the local tavern and she had only one dress.

Her undergarment got wet of course and clung to her well-shaped body. The young men watched her entranced and teased each other, calling each other out to dare things that might draw her attention. Sometimes a young boy was challenged to go up to her and ask her for a peek, hoping she would pull her shirt down to reveal a breast. She splattered the young boy with water and chased him off, which made the other young men laugh out loud. At other times a boy got challenged to lower his pants and dance while calling out to Garazi, saying she was so beautiful. This was usually the point where the other women stepped in to defend the poor girl and the boys were chased off with stones or mud from the creek.

In the evening Garazi worked in the local tavern. Most of the days it was quiet, but she still had to work hard as she had to keep the place clean and serve both drinks and food. The owner of the tavern was an old man called Antxon. His wife was ill and could not help. He was too poor to get decent medical help. Luckily the local herbalist, an older woman called Amunia, didn’t ask for much, but her herbs didn’t work as well as Antxon would have liked. He was often in a bad mood and took it out on poor Garazi by making her work extra hard and late.



Often in the evening the son of Don Fermin was there to drink. Inigo was his name. He was a sly young men, brooding and much disliked, also by Garazi. Unfortunately he too had an eye for her and often wanted to take her for walks to bring her home when work was done. By that time he usually was drunk. Besides, Garazi didn’t like him at all and she didn’t trust him enough to let him walk her home. When he became too persistent in his requests, she asked Unai to come pick her up after work, but he couldn’t always make it.

 

[Doragon]

2

One night Inigo had been turned down again by Garazi and he had left in a foul mood. Unai had not shown up and after the last guests left, Garazi was on her own with the old man. She was cleaning the tables and gathering the empty cups, when suddenly she noticed Antxon standing close, watching her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. She had not broken any cups that night. The man kept silent and didn’t answer.

“Look,” she said, “if this is about Inigo again, I don’t like him alright. But I never treat him bad. He’s just another customer.”

The man shook his head, that was not it. They had spoken about Inigo before and he was actually glad she got rid of him that night.



“My wife is ill,” he said slowly.

“I know,” said Garazi, bringing more empty cups to the counter. “How is she doing?”



“No improvement,” he replied, stepping closer to her again. She looked up to him and frowned. He was not his usual self it seemed.

“I am a man with needs,” he said and he extended his hand to her breast. She was so surprised that he had cupped her breasts before she could react.

“Antxon!” she exclaimed, pulling away from him. But he followed and pressed her against one of the wooden pillars holding up the roof. He pressed his fat body against her. His scent was suddenly overwhelming and his hands were all over her. She yelped and writhed, trying to get away from him.

“Don’t be like that,” he panted while trying to kiss her. “I am not a bad man. I won’t take your virginity. I can fuck you in the ass, so your virginity stays intact, alright? I am a man of needs.” She got hold of a mug and slapped it against the side of his head. He groaned and staggered away from her.

“Get away from me!” she cried out and leaped for the door.

“Whore!” he hissed. “Don’t you ever come back here!” he shouted after her as she ran down the road.

 

[Doragon]

3

The girl was very upset. She had not expected how Anxton had treated her. He had often been cross with her, as if he didn’t like her at all. Still she had regarded him as a kind of surrogate father. The payment wasn’t too good, but she needed everything she could get. The fact that he assaulted her, didn’t upset her as much as losing her job. She wept as she ran down the path. She realized she could not take this to Unai. He would become so angry, she feared for Anxton’s life. And though the old man had done her great injustice, she somehow could understand the stress he must be feeling with his wife being ill and all that.

There was only one place she could go if she didn’t want to be alone at home at this moment. She ran down the path to the cave near the goat meadow, where Amunia was often staying by a fire, receiving locals with complaints or illnesses. She didn’t treat any illnesses there, because all her herbs were at home, but she listened and offered advice, like an old and wise woman did.

Garazi told her story and the old woman sighed.

“You need to be more careful,” she said. “When is Unai going to marry you? A young girl should not stay unmarried.”

“You are unmarried,” said Garazi.

“I am like an old loaf of bread,” smiled Amunia, “Nobody wants that.”

Garazi took her hand and smiled back at her.

“I hope I will look as well as you when I am your age,” she said.

“That’s kind of you, my child. But seriously, get married or these kind of things keep happening.”

Garazi nodded and sighed.

“I want to get married, but… Unai is so busy of late.”

“He is a politician,” replied the old woman, “and he is a fool. He needs you as much as you need him.”

“I can look after myself,” said Garazi defiantly.

“That’s not the point,” said the wise woman. “You can keep turning men down, but men that are denied their lust can become vengeful. You need to be careful.”

"Men should grow up," sighed Garazi defiantly.

Amunia shook her head. "Come to the feast tomorrow evening," she said while putting a hand on Garazi's arm. "It's the feast of the fire dance and Unai is going to attend as well. Talk to him when he has had a few drinks."

Garazi nodded and would follow the advice of the wise old woman.

 

[Doragon]

(I forgot the image of Garazi talking with Amunia in the last post)

 

[Doragon]

4



“Ten men is too much!” said Unai. The others agreed, but all had waited for him to take a stand, nobody dared speak out first against Don Fermin. They formed the council of men. Don Fermin hated having these meetings. The men of the village always behaved like they had a say in the matter. He needed to show them who was in charge here and to show his son how it was done, he had demanded Inigo to be present as well. One day his son would take charge when he stepped back and it was time to prepare him for that.



“The king himself demanded more soldiers to guard the borders,” he said. “It’s not like you have any choice in the matter.”

“But the harvest is soon, we need all the men for that. You can’t take ten men away from us to play soldier in de mountains.” Unai spoke out loud, knowing he was sticking his own neck out. Someone had to do it. Don Fermin hated him all the more for it and if he could, he would have ordered his soldiers to imprison Unai on the spot. Inigo felt the same way.

“Father,” he said, “the impertinence of this man is intolerable. Tell the soldiers to lock him up.”

Don Fermin looked at his son with a raised eyebrow. Why was he suddenly so strongly opposed to Unai? Not that he disagreed, but Inigo often hung out with the young men in the village and the Don had often wondered if Inigo wasn’t betting on the wrong horse. They were Spanish after all. Screw those Basque. But he knew the danger and he leaned over to Inigo and spoke softly.

“Hush my son, we don’t want an uprising,” whispered the Don.

“Are you getting weak, father?” whispered Inigo back with a red face.

“Don Fermin,” spoke Unai while he got up from his seat, “I know you feel I am disrespecting you, but I assure you, we mean you no disrespect. It’s just common sense to keep the men present for the harvest. How about we talk about this again in two weeks?”

The other men agreed and there were several voices agreeing with Unai. The Don clenched his jaws and he knew he was getting nowhere with the bunch.

 

[Doragon]

5

The next evening was the feast of the fire dance. It was inside the large cave where Amunia usually resided, but the spot was much older than that. Countless generations had celebrated the coming harvest with fire dances. Men and women danced around a large fire, young men jumped over the fire, many took off their shirts, even women. And some even danced naked, all to celebrate the harvest and the abundance they were enjoying.



Garazi was unmarried and not dancing naked or bare-chested. But she did allow Unai to embrace her and even kiss her. And this time she even went as far as to offer her breasts to him, draw his hands under her open shirt. She didn’t care what others would think about that, she wanted Unai to know he was her choice.



“Let’s get married,” she whispered to him when they kissed.

“Trust me, I will,” answered Unai, “but not before the harvest.”

It was a promise and yet it was not. But though this was still not an official marriage proposal, Garazi was satisfied. She would wait for him.

Inigo watched from the shadows. And he wasn’t alone. Other men also had their eyes on Garazi. She was desired by many. At the same time Unai wasn’t. He was considered dangerous by quite a few people, who didn’t want to give the Spanish reason to enforce stronger rule. Unai knew this of course and he expected that if he married Garazi now, others would step in and allow the Spanish to get their wishes. As long as his hands were free, he could speak up and resist.

 

[Doragon]

6

Sunday mass. Don Angel was preaching in the small church of the village.



“You need to be aware of the dangers!” he said. He didn’t just talk about hell and punishment and damnation, he was preaching about the dangers of witchcraft. His eyes went over the crowd. Many young women, pretty, attractive. None of them ever came to confess. He didn’t trust them. They were of course talking with Amunia, the old hag. How could he ever enjoy the whispering voices of young beautiful women talking about their urges, if the old hag was lending them her ear?



“Witches go to hell!” he shouted. “They will burn in all eternity!”



Several women looked at each other, but there was no worry in their faces. They had a hard time not to burst into laughter. As if witches were a real thing! Some men however looked worried. Men that were unhappy. Like Antxon. Men who blamed women for their unhappiness. Like Inigo, who sat in the back and watched the reactions of the people closely. He had heard his father the other day, talking with one of the guards about an inquisitor that was coming, called for, invited to come. Don Fermin had a plan and Inigo realized he was going to use the witch hunt of Don Angel to enforce his power over the villagers. He would have despised his father for it under normal circumstances. But his lust for Garazi and his hatred for Unai, made him see an opportunity here.

 

[Doragon]

7

When rumour spread that an inquisitor was coming, the whole village became focused on the subject of witchcraft. Suddenly everybody knew somebody who fell ill or had died under suspicious circumstances. Stories about witches coming down the chimney were told in the tavern. Father Angel had a busy time taking confessions about witches.

Inquisitor Licenciado Azevedo came from Pamplona. Rumours about witchcraft and heresies in the north of the country had been known for a long time and the inquisition had decided a close investigation of the matter was long overdue. Don Azevedo was sent to the village with every authority he needed to get to the bottom of this. He even was allowed to take a cart full of instruments with him, needed to get the truth out. Seeing the implements of torture being unpacked from the cart, caused terror in the hearts of many villagers.



The inquisitor first spoke with Don Fermin of course. He told about the unrest that was brewing in the village. Men not wanting to help protect the Holy Spanish Empire, no doubt because their heads were filled with lust.
“It’s the women who are behind this,” said the Don.



“You mean the witches?” asked the inquisitor.
“Yes, of course,” said the Don, “that’s what I mean.” Though he would have loved to execute all the women in town if that gave him the soldiers he needed.



When the interrogations started, Don Angel took the lead at first. He knew the confessions of most of the villagers and knew how to ask the right questions. Women confessed having had miscarriages, men confessed about being impotent. The evidence of there being witches grew and grew. Nobody dared denounce the existence of witches, knowing that would make them suspect. The villagers were making up stories for days and days, confessing about witches going into church at night to desecrate the altar with vile and obscene acts. Someone even came up with the story about one witch pleasing herself with the candles on the altar and rubbing her sinful crotch against Jesus on the cross.



“I need names!” shouted the inquisitor after three days of listening to the most horrible stories from almost everyone in the village. Men and women were all too eager to talk about witches, but nobody gave any names. Don Angel knew a trick though, something he learned in confessions by listening to the hidden desires of people. Many men lusted over young females they could never have. His questioning pointed in that direction. Also because he hoped they could interrogate the young girls of the village.

The inquisitor wasn’t dumb and hearing the line of questioning of Don Angel, he asked him about that.



“Aren’t witches supposed to be old hags?” he inquired.

“The circle of witches most definitely revolves around old hags,” admitted Don Angel, “but the young women that are spoiled by these old witches can help us find the cause of all of this.”

It was a clever answer and the inquisitor saw the logic of it. No witch would come and turn herself in, after all. And Don Angel got what he wanted, the young girls of the village were going to be the most suspect. Interrogation might turn quite exciting.



The villagers in the meantime got pressured more and more to give names. And in the end a name kept popping up. Garazi of Otxoa. A young girl, a foreigner who was not really one of them, unmarried and without children or other responsibilities. She seemed safe to sacrifice. Besides, had Antxon not complained about his beer growing sour? She had worked in the tavern and had destroyed the man’s livelihood. While he had a sick wife, also her doing of course. Antxon himself was all too happy to point the finger at Garazi, who had tried to seduce him by dancing naked after closing hour, or so he told.

Later that day, Garazi was arrested by three soldiers.



Garazi was taken to the townhall where the interrogations took place. Many watched as the young woman was walking through town, three tall soldiers surrounding her. She didn't look powerful at all, let alone frightful. But many were relived it was at least not them that were taken.

 

[Doragon]

8

Unai went to townhall to see Garazi but he wasn’t allowed in. A fight broke out, but against four soldiers he didn’t stand a chance. He was beaten and then sent on his way. Garazi heard the fighting from inside her cell and suffered all the more because of it. There was nothing she could do and it appeared that nobody could help her.

Moments later Inigo got with her in her cell as his father’s soldiers of course did allow him to visit her.
“What do you want?” she asked shivering with both anger and fear. “Is this how you like to see me?”
“Of course not,” replied Inigo while he got closer to her. Garazi got up and kept away from him.
“I can help,” he continued.
“And what do you want for your help?” asked Garazi angrily, because he was not the type to fight any form of injustice, especially things that were the result of his father’s actions.
“I don’t want anything special,” he replied. “Just to get you out of here so we can get married.”
“I’ll never marry you,” she spat at him.



“Just do as you’re told,” he bit back at her. “Do not deny anything, admit your guilt. But also tell about the old woman and how she got you all confused.”
“I’ll never accuse Amunia,” hissed Garazi back at him. “She has done a lot of good for the villagers. Why would I falsely accuse her?”
“It’s your only hope,” said Inigo. “I am your only hope.”
Garazi trembled with anger now that she knew what the purpose of her imprisonment was. They wanted to get evidence against Amunia to put her on the stake. And she herself would be forced to marry with that dreadful dirtbag Inigo.
When Inigo had left, she cried in frustration. But later, when they came to fetch her for her interrogation, she felt calm and resolute. She was not going to give in to the false accusations and lies.

“I am inquisitor Licenciado Azevedo,” said the priest while he stood before the girl. They had stripped her dress off her, leaving her in her woolen undergarments. He inspected her like she was a piece of meat and involuntarily she shivered feeling his cold gaze upon her.
“What’s your name and how old are you?” he asked.



“I am Garazi of Otxoa,” she replied, “and I am twenty years old.”
“Still not married? No children?” continued the priest. She shook her head. She could mention the fact that she might marry Unai soon, but she chose not to mention his name.
“Unbelievable that such a fine girl like you has found no husband yet,” said the priest while he reached out for her and placed a hand over her soft breast. She winced and wanted to slap him in the face, but her hands were tied behind her back. She tried to pull away but the man followed her with his hand and he gently massaged her breast through her clothes. He squeezed softly as if testing her flesh. When there was no milk appearing, no wet spot on her clothes, he let go of her.
“We have had many testimonies,” he said while looking straight into her eyes. “Stories about witches in this village, turning into pigs, goats and other animals to do evil things. Stories about poisoning food supplies, making people sick and even about breastfeeding dogs. Do you know about these stories?”
Garazi blinked and she was shocked. She shook her head. “I’ve never heard of those stories,” she replied without hesitation.
“So you never breastfed any dog or other animal?” asked the priest to her horror.
“Of course not!” she cried out.
“This is not the worst,” said the priest. “There are also stories about men being seduced and then losing the ability to perform sexually. Apparently the witches are after male virility or maybe they are simply extremely horny and perverted. We also had a testimony of witches breaking into church and having sex with the crucifix on the altar.”
Garazi was appalled. “Were they there?” she asked. “Those that told these stories, did they witness this? I have really never heard of anything so absurd,” she added with a trembling voice. She felt so angry. How could people make up such terrible lies?
The priest reached out again with his hand and grabbed her between her legs. Garazi cried out and tried to pull away from the extremely intimate assault on her person.
“Did you ever stick a crucifix in there?” asked the priest with his teeth clenched. He absolutely hated this part of his job. To touch a woman there, it was almost too much to bare. He despised women and their vile sexuality. His face could not hide such feelings.
Garazi pulled free with a cry and shouted back at the man that she had never done such a despicable thing.
“It’s all lies!” she shouted.
“Do you also deny having had sex with some of the men in this village, like the devil told you to do?”
“It’s also a lie!” she again shouted.
“Do you claim to be a virgin then?”
Garazi was shaking with anger. How dared he ask her that? She could not answer that. She was not a virgin, but not in the way he accused her.



“Tell the truth,” said father Angel, also joining in the interrogation of the poor girl. “You never came to confession, because the things you should have told me were too horrible to conceive, right?”
“No!” she cried back at the fat priest. But she also couldn’t tell him she didn’t come to confessions because he smelled so bad and he was always lusting over girls. Most women felt it really hard to tell the priest about their affairs.
“Confess you are a witch!” shouted Don Angel at her.
“NO!” she screamed back.
“Tell us the names of the other witches,” said the inquisitor calmly.



“I don’t know any witches!” screamed Garazi in both anger and fear. “It’s all lies!”
“The devil is blocking her throat,” said the inquisitor. “We will have to flush him out.”

 

[Doragon]

9

They took Garazi to the cellar, to a large underground chamber, where lots of weird looking furniture and strange implements were displayed. The two henchmen of the Inquisitor made sure she didn’t run. They were large men, wearing black hoods and their upper bodies were bare so it really showed how muscular and heavily built they were. Garazi was trembling all over while they manhandled her. She was at least a head smaller than those brutes.

She protested fiercely when they laid her on a table and tied her down with ropes. The men were much too strong to resist though and they didn’t have much trouble subduing her squirming body and strapping her down. Next they strapped broad leather belts over her neck and head to fix her in place while facing upward.

The inquisitor with his scribe sat on chairs nearby. Father Angel was also there to watch the proceedings. He felt a bit disappointed they had not stripped the pretty young woman, but the inquisitor had told them to leave her underclothes on. He despised female bodies and it was bad enough he often had to deal with females. No need to also see them naked and undergo the cleaning process of days of meditation and prayer.

“Last chance, Garazi,” spoke the inquisitor, “Confess you are a witch and tell us the names of the other witches.”

“I am not a witch,” repeated the poor girl panting, “I know nothing about any witches.”



The inquisitor made a gesture and one of the brutes squeezed her cheeks to open her mouth before shoving the end of a metal funnel between her teeth. She gagged fiercely and fought in despair against her straps while the end of the funnel was pushed onto the back of her mouth. The other brute then started to pour water into the funnel from a large jug. Garazi’s mouth was quickly overflowing with water and as it washed back up her nose, she could no longer breathe and was forced to swallow or drown.



Just when she was out of breath, the room spinning around her and her lungs burning, the water stopped and the funnel was pulled from her mouth. She spat water and coughed, desperate to get air in her lungs.

“Confess you are a witch,” said the inquisitor.



“I am not a witch,” she choked, panting and trying in vain to pull her head away. The broad belts kept her head fixed in place. The inquisitor gestured at his henchmen and the funnel was once again forced in her mouth. She tried to keep her mouth shut, but the metal funnel tapped painfully against her teeth and she opened her mouth to spare herself the pain of having her teeth cracked. She pulled desperately at the ropes that held her down on the table. She choked when water flowed into her mouth again, blocking her airways. She drank as quick as she could, kicking in despair with her fastened legs. There was even more water this time and she almost lost consciousness. But just before the lights went out, the funnel was again pulled from her face and she desperately gasped for air.



“Give us the names of the other witches,” said the inquisitor.



Garazi tried to shake her head and wept silently. The funnel came back and again she was forced to drink or drown. Her stomach started hurting from the amount of water she swallowed. And this time when the funnel was pulled away, she vomited water, which hindered her greatly while trying to catch her breath. She really became desperate this time and when the questions were repeated, she almost confessed to anything. But as she saw the smiling face of father Angel, who clearly seemed to enjoy seeing her like this, something inside her hardened and she again refused confessing too all the false accusations.



Four more times was she forced to drink, until her belly was bloated with water, her stomach cramping fiercely and her lungs were aching with the water she involuntarily got inside her. Then she felt a hand between her legs, pressing against her sex.

“Maybe we should pour water in some of her other openings as well,” said Don Angel.

“Take your hands off her, father,” replied the inquisitor, “it’s bad enough that we have to carry this burden. Do not get your hands and soul dirty by touching this woman.”

The priest pulled his hand away, clearly disappointed, but he bowed his head to the inquisitor and said “Of course, your excellence, I apologize.”

“We’ll get her to talk,” said the inquisitor, “without the need to have to watch the naked body of this woman. Take her off the table,” he continued to his henchmen, “and tie her arms behind her back.”

Don Angel tilted his head.

“We’ll submit her to more questioning while she suffers the corda.”

Garazi heard them talking as through a haze and didn’t even know what corda was, or that the Italians called it strappado.

 

[Doragon]

10



Garazi was standing with her wrists tied behind her back and a thick rope attached to it leading up to a pulley. One of the henchman was standing ready to pull at the rope and lift her up. She was filled with fear as she expected it to hurt to be lifted up by her arms while they were on her back. But as the inquisitor walked up to her, she steeled herself and kept her posture upright. Her loathing for the man was enough to make her feel strong and self-assured. She would not break, or so she told herself.

“You are young and beautiful,” said the inquisitor. “You could marry and have lots of children, just as the Lord wants of you. Why do you resist? Why not confess? Are you so eager to throw it all away and die?”

“I know nothing,” she replied while she curled the corners of her mouth down in contempt. “It’s all lies.”

“Why would people lie about this?” asked the inquisitor, now standing right in front of her.

“I don’t know,” she replied, “but I am not a witch.”



The inquisitor reached out for the front of her undergarments and pulled it down to inspect her breasts.

“Such a shame,” he said, “No child will ever suck on those nipples.”

Garazi winced and felt tears leap to her eyes, both from the humiliation and because the words stabbed at her heart. She had always wanted to have children. Was she wrong risking everything?



The inquisitor stepped back and made a gesture. The henchman pulled hard at the rope and Garazi cried out when her arms were pulled up behind her back. Higher and higher she was pulled until all her weight was lifted by her insanely twisted arms. The pain shooting through her arms and shoulders was maddening and she screamed in terror.



“Speak,” said the inquisitor while she dangled up in the air, crying out in pain. “You only need to say ‘yes’,” he added. She grunted and shook her head. The henchman dropped her.

Three more times was she lifted up in the air, screaming as her arms hurt so bad from being pulled up backwards and carrying her weight. Still she did not confess to anything.



“Add a weight to her feet,” said the inquisitor after three times. Garazi could barely stand while she watched them bringing a big heavy stone over to her. It was so heavy, the henchman could barely lift it alone. There was an iron ring attached to it and it was tied to her ankles with sturdy ropes. Then both henchmen pulled at the ropes to lift her into the air again and she screamed even louder when the heavy stone pulled her body down while the ropes around her wrists pulled her up. Her shoulders both popped from their sockets and the pain overwhelmed her completely.



“Talk!” said the inquisitor. But before she could say anything, she lost consciousness.

When she was back down on the floor and coming around, she grunted in excruciating pain. When the inquisitor once more asked her to confess, she shook her head. The inquisitor sighed.



“Put her shoulders back in place,” he said to the helpers, “and bring her to her cell to recover.”

Garazi screamed when they twisted her arms to make her shoulders pop back into their sockets, after having released her from the ropes. Then they carried her back to her cell, barely conscious and weeping with pain.



“Damned woman,” cursed the inquisitor. “If even this doesn’t change her mind, she is apparently willing to sacrifice herself to keep the secrets.”

“Yes,” said Don Nagel slyly, “but you did notice how she winced when you told her she might never have children, right?”

The inquisitor nodded. “That’s true, there may be something she fears more than life.”

The priest smiled, knowing what would come next.



“Tomorrow we’ll start her real torture,” said the inquisitor, but his face looked sad. He despised having to work with a woman naked. This might very well cost him his spot in heaven. But if he had to burn in hell to rid the world of witches, he would suffer the price. And tomorrow Garazi would suffer all the more for that reason.



Don Angel could not stop himself from smiling. Tomorrow would be a very nice day.

 

[Doragon]

11

That evening the inquisitor was in his room doing penance. He knew what was going to be required in the next couple of days and he knew he needed a lot of forgiveness for what he was forced to do. The witch needed to confess, no doubt about it. But in order to do that he needed to soil himself by watching her naked body, maybe even touching her and ordering his henchmen to do really heinous deeds. The inquisitor whipped himself, knowing he needed to whip the woman as well.



In the meantime Inigo had heard what had happened and he knew a little bit about what was going to happen. In the dark of night he ordered the guard to let him see Garazi, maybe for the last time. The girl was still in a lot of pain but sat up when Inigo entered her cell.



“What do you want?” she asked with a hoarse voice.



“Repent and I can save you,” he said. She shook her head.

“Go away, Inigo. I am innocent and there is nothing for you here.”



“I was afraid you were going to say that,” he replied while getting closer to her. He went on his knees at her feet and opened his codpiece, revealing an erect cock.

“This was the last time you turned me down,” he said, “and be grateful at least one man is going to enjoy your body while it is still in one piece.”



Garazi screamed when he grabbed her legs and pulled her close to him, spreading her legs, pulling up her under garments, revealing her sex to him. She tried to struggle but her shoulders were so sore, she could barely push against him. It didn’t matter, he was much stronger than she was and no sooner had he forced her down under him or he pressed his body between her legs. With a scream she felt his erect cock breaking into her virgin vagina, destroying her hymen. She had been saving herself for the wedding night with Unai. Now that was taken from them in such a horrible manner. She wept and cried out while Inigo fucked her, stabbing his penis deep into her tight orifice.

“I am glad it is me who is turning you into a woman,” he panted while he pumped his semen into her. Then he kissed her brutally, despite her resistance, but kept inside her, pressing her down under him with his weight. And after a few moments of recovering, his new erection was used to fuck her a second time.



“Please,” she begged him after he fucked her again and after he had filled her with more seed. “Have mercy,” she wept.

“You should have mercy on me,” he replied and he then crawled over her body, offering his limp and wet cock to her face.

“Get me hard again,” he groaned. She shook her head, wincing as his smelly penis was rubbing over her face. In anger he slapped her tits until she complied and allowed his penis to enter her mouth. Weeping she drooled on his wet penis, feeling him rubbing over her tongue and into the back of her mouth. Again he became erect and as soon as he was hard again, he turned her over and forced his lance into her anus.

“You will always be mine,” he panted while he fucked her a third time. Then he was finally spent, but he remained in the cell a bit longer to watch her crying and then falling asleep.

“I am sorry Garazi,” he whispered before leaving. But he spat on her sleeping form before leaving the cell.

 

[Doragon]

12

The next morning at sunrise two soldiers fetched Garazi from her cell and brought her to the interrogation cellar. She felt sick and told them, but it was not recognized as an excuse.

“You’ll feel a lot sicker before this day is done,” replied one of the soldiers before delivering her to the henchmen, who were now counting four in total, double the amount of the previous days.

The inquisitor once more gave her a chance to confess, but Garazi shook her head and refused, though she was shaking with fear. He angrily made a gesture at the henchmen and they started to rip her clothes off her body.

(source: Pit and Pendulum)

Garazi screamed while she was so rudely disrobed by the harsh men and as soon as they let go of her, she quickly tried to cover herself. All the men were watching her naked body. The four henchmen, the inquisitor, his scribe, Don Angel the priest and two soldiers who were waiting near the entrance. The poor girl trembled and wept in shame.

(source: Pit and Pendulum)

“I am not a witch!” she screamed.

“We’ll see,” said the inquisitor and he gestured at the henchmen to proceed.

They grabbed the girl and dragged her over to a large wooden beam with ropes, that could rotate and pull her body over it. For now they placed her with her chest against the beam, pulling her arms out to the sides and tying her wrists. Next they also put ropes around her ankles and dragged her feet to the side to spread her legs.

(Source: History of Pain, Inquisition)

“Your excellency,” spoke the priest to the inquisitor, “forgive me, but may I suggest something?” The inquisitor frowned and looked upon the fat priest as he stepped forward.



“Maybe we should acquire some more evidence pertaining this girl being a witch.” Don Angel was sweating and licking his lips while he looked at the now naked girl tied to the beam.

“We have a lot of witness accounts already. All we need is her confession. But what are you referring to?” asked the inquisitor.

“Well, everybody knows witches are very carnal and lustful. A decent and god-fearing woman would never allow herself to experience pleasure while having intercourse. Maybe we should see if this girl is… well… indecent.”

“Are you suggesting we should have intercourse with her?” asked the inquisitor quite shocked.

“Oh no!” hasted the priest to say, “most certainly not your excellency! I would not dream of risking our souls. But… I think the lord would forgive me if I use my hands on her, just to see how deep the devil has penetrated her flesh?”

The inquisitor visibly shivered and turned away, disgust on his face.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, glad the priest wasn’t suggesting that he himself should do such a thing. “But why not let my henchmen handle it?”

“Well, not to say anything against your excellent henchmen,” said the priest, not prepared to let this opportunity slip from his hands, “but they are experts at causing pain. As a priest I have learned a lot in the confession booth about how women experience pleasure. I think I might be able to test this girl efficiently.”

Again the inquisitor shivered. This was precisely the reason why he had not become a priest himself. Taking confessions from people’s struggling with lust and such would be horrifying. He much rather helped people battle the devil by burning their bodies.

“Proceed,” he said and returned to his chair.

Garazi tried to pull away when the priest came up behind her, but the ropes held her in place and though she squirmed when his hands were on her buttocks, she could not move out of his reach.

“Please, don’t touch me,” she wept.

“Are you afraid I might discover something?” said Don Angel while licking his lips. Her butt felt so sweet, soft and warm, the skin so smooth and fresh and young. He felt an erection coming on and was glad his robes were wide enough to hide that from anybody’s view. Next he slipped his hand between her legs, rubbing his fingers over her slit. The girl cried out and squirmed even harder, but she could not prevent him from using his fingers to part her lips and touch her innermost sanctum. He grinned when he felt the wetness there. He had already expected as much, after hearing the guard tell him about Inigo’s visitation the previous evening. With a grin he pushed two fingers into her vagina, feeling her warm and tight opening and his penis was now throbbing with lust. He used his fingers to massage the inner walls of her vagina and then at the front around her clitoris. Garazi gasped and cried out her knees buckling, horrified how this touching no only disgusted and shamed her, but also greatly aroused her. How was that possible?

Don Angel greatly enjoyed the predicament she was in, the struggles that were fruitless and his hand that was forcing her to experience lust. He began to thrust his fingers rapidly into her vagina, sensing how her inner walls were clutching around his digits. She cried out, wriggled with her entire body, her legs were shaking and suddenly she gave a low grunt when an orgasm swept her off her feet.

The priest triumphantly raised his hand, the wet fingers showing thick globs of slime.

“Not only is this girl not a virgin, she is full of semen and she is horny!”

The inquisitor went to the edge of his seat, his face contorted in anger.

“Who did she have sex with?” He directed himself to the guards.

“Nobody, your excellency,” stammered the guard. The other guard confirmed this.

“We did hear a lot of moaning from her cell though.”

“Maybe she was visited by the devil last night,” suggested Don Angel, who knew the guards would never admit they had let the son of the landlord with the girl in her cell.

The inquisitor got to his feet, anger taking full control of him and he bellowed at his henchmen.

“Whip that lust from her body! A hundred lashes!”

 

[Doragon]

13

Garazi shivered and protested when she saw one of the henchmen coming up behind her while holding a short whip of braided leather called a quirt. It was normally used for animals and she felt extremely degraded by having it used on her, especially while she was naked and bound in front of all these men.

“I am not a witch, please,” she begged in a whimpering voice while she squirmed trying to bring herself out of harms way. It was pointless. Her pleas fell to deaf ears and her squirming only gave the men a view of her trembling breasts and quivering buttocks.

“Start at the shoulders,” said the inquisitor. The henchman nodded. He knew the drill. He swung his arm back, holding the quirt quite professionally and then struck as hard as he could. A dry cracking sound erupted in the dark and damp cellar as the leather hit the poor girl on her back across the shoulder blades, quickly followed by a loud wail from her when the pain sank in. It was a very sharp pain, almost as if her shoulder had been cut with a blade. A second time the quirt struck her and the girl buckled when she felt the hot pain of the lash. It was so hard to bear and so painful, she had never imagined it was this terrible.

“Please, no, stop, no, I am not a witch… aaah,” she screamed while being hit a third time.

“Gag her,” said the inquisitor, “this too hard on my ears and she is not confessing yet anyways.”

One of the other henchmen took a leather belt and forced it into her mouth while strapping it behind her head. The leather was dry and smelly, a very old belt, but it was wide and it muffled her cries quite effectively.

The lashes resumed on her now burning and aching shoulders, where deep red welts were appearing on her unblemished skin. And slowly the lashes were hitting her lower on her back, under her shoulders, across the back of her ribcage and then across her middle. The girl danced and screamed with muffled cries, shaking her head, quivering all over.



To ordinary men it would appear that a very frail and sweet looking girl was being horribly whipped by a brute that was at least a head taller than she was. His broad muscular shoulders rolled and his thick arms flexed each time he struck her small back as hard as he could. It looked almost like he was trying to cut her in two with every stroke.

The inquisitor saw something completely different. Here was a monster, though disguised as a pretty girl, who was a threat to all good Christians. He knew he was bound by law to get a confession out of her, but he would have loved burning her right here and now, eradicating the evil that she presented. Even if she was innocent it was no big loss. As long as he got all the witches, some innocent bystanders could be tolerated to die as well. Besides, he dsipised all women that were beautiful, seductive and therefor dangerous. Beauty was almost a confession in itself, he thought while he too winced each time the quirt struck the girl.

The local priest Don Angel also twitched each time the crack of the whip sounded in that cramped basement. But he didn’t feel hate or regret. He felt lust. His eyes were fixed on the jumping movements of her buttocks, the quivering of her flesh, the deformation of her breasts each time she pressed herself against the large wooden beam. And he loved the sound of her childish voice screaming.

After thirty lashes her back was riddled with bright red welts and she was covered in sweat and grime. Despite all his efforts the henchman had not managed to break her skin. But that was mostly because he had to work downward, not striking more than twice in the same spot. If he could focus on the same area, he would eventually be able to draw blood. He knew this from experience. But he also knew the inquisitor had a weak stomach and couldn’t stand blood very well. So he used his skills to strike hard without drawing blood.

“Turn the beam over,” said the inquisitor, “and give her butt and the back of her legs another thirty lashes.”



Two henchmen unlocked the beam that Garazi was tied against and by turning it away from her she got pulled forward, her breasts and stomach coming to rest on the wide beam until she was draped over it. With her ankles tied to the side her sex was now far better visible, something that the priest especially enjoyed. The inquisitor only felt anger when he glanced at the girl’s young slit.

The henchman resumed striking her, this time on her buttocks and then further downward, across the back of her thighs. It hurt so bad, Garazi cried out even louder. Especially when the back of her knees were struck did she scream, a horrendous sound that would make many men feel queasy. The inquisitor didn’t feel so good from witnessing this, but instead of stopping, he only got more angry. Her cries and weeping were recognized as attempts to make him softer and go easy on her. And he was also annoyed that it worked because he did feel sick by watching her suffering. But instead of letting go, he ordered to make it worse.



Sixty times had the quirt struck her, from her shoulders down her back to her calves. Now the inquisitor ordered the henchmen to tie up her feet by bending her legs and give her twenty strokes on the soles of her feet. This bastinado was going to be even more painful. The henchman used a thin wooden cane to strike her delicate feet, making her scream even louder than she had so far.

Garazi was seriously suffering by this time. Her whole back felt like it was burning. After the fierce sharp pain of every stroke ebbed away, it was replaced by a slow burning hot feeling and she was severely bruised all over her backside. The cane hitting the soles of her feet was by far more painful and she felt like her feet were being mauled, broken and deformed. While in fact only thin red stripes appeared on the skin of her feet. But it damaged her enough that she could probably not walk for at least a day.

When this punishment was also delivered, all the men in the cellar had to wipe the sweat from their brows and they all felt like they had endured enough. But the inquisitor still felt she needed to suffer more, especially where it mattered most.

“Spread her legs wide,” he said while he sat down, because he knew he could not keep standing straight while watching the next torture.



“Spread her legs wide and use flagellation on her sex.” There was silence, except of the soft weeping of the poor girl. Even Don Angel had to grab hold of the table to keep standing at this point, but he kept looking eagerly at the crotch of the girl while her legs were spread wider, granting even better view of her sex. He felt his cock throbbing when he saw her lips parting slightly and he saw a thin droplet of liquid escaping from her slit. Oh how he would have loved sliding his erect cock in that tiny opening. He almost had an orgasm just thinking about it and with a red face he too sat down, glancing at the inquisitor before wiping his brow. The inquisitor didn’t interpret Don Angels suffering right as he took the priests discomfort as his own. He nodded at the priest and said “We all have to suffer for the truth, no matter how disgusting this is.”

The priest quickly nodded and made the sign of the cross, which was followed by the inquisitor and the scribe as well. The henchmen were in the meantime performing their duties by pulling Garazi’s legs far to the side, almost in a split, granting full access to her bottom. Then the henchmen switched his cane to the azote, the Spanish version of the scourge. It was made of leather, had several strands and each leather strips had knots. It was impossible to strike somebody with it without drawing blood and the henchmen hoped the inquisitor was well seated for this.

The inquisitor had not told his men how many times the girl had to be struck with the azote. But the henchman assumed he could go on until he was ordered otherwise. He positioned himself well behind the girl for a downward stroke that would lash the leather strips between her buttocks first and then down across her genital area. As soon as he struck, again with all the force he could muster, the poor girl screamed hoarsely and she started struggling so hard against the ropes that tied her down, that she almost dislocated her own shoulders. Two other henchmen took position next to her to push her chest against the beam and prevent her from damaging herself.

The second stroke was from below, lashing her sex first and dragging the strands across her anus. The henchman struck so hard that the lips covering her sex split and blood started flowing from the wounds. There was a pause at this point, but the inquisitor gestured to proceed. Garazi was struck a third time, again from the top down, this time opening wounds between her buttocks. And again from below, causing her sex to open further and making it appear as if she had just given birth, such was the bloody mess that was now between her legs. Garazi at this point lost consciousness and they had to use a bucket of water to splash on her and wake her up again. More lashes were then dealt to her sex, as if they tried to permanently destroy her vulva. And that was exactly what the inquisitor intended. She should never again experience joy from having sex, he thought. And if he had known how female arousal worked, he might have ordered more precise torture, for instance of her clitoris. But he was inexperienced with that notion, so whipping her slit was all he could think of at this point. And only after ten strokes, when her slit was reduced to a bleeding gash between her legs and she had fainted two more times, did he order to stop.

“Bring her to her cell,” said the inquisitor, while he looked pale and he was trembling all over. “Let her recover, tomorrow we will continue with her frontside.”

As soon as the unconscious and bleeding girl was carried away from the basement, the inquisitor hasted to his own cell to punish himself in an attempt to get rid of the queasy and sick feeling he had. The priest Don Angel however hurried home to do a different type of penance as he suffered at least three orgasms before he finally calmed down. The henchmen simply got drunk with some soldiers, boasting about how many times a girl could be struck without drawing blood.

 

[Doragon]

14

That night Unai and some of his friends raided some of the villagers they believed had witnessed against Garazi. Their orchards went up in flames, their houses wrecked and some of the villagers were even caught and beaten quite severely. Most of them sought refuge in the big town house, protected by the guards.

Don Fermin listened to the complaints from the refugees, among them Antxon the local innkeeper. They now not only accused Garazi of being a witch, but Unai and his friends as well, which was just what the Don had been hoping to hear. He sent out his soldiers to round up any of the men and women who were responsible for the uprising, but they all fled to the hills, where many caves and underground passages existed.

The hunt for the other witches continued for two days, but the rebels managed to keep out of the hands of the guards. This gave Garazi some time to recover from her wounds, as there were not enough guards around to keep watch during further questioning. Despite the demands of the inquisitor to give him more guards, Don Fermin did everything he could to apprehend his political opponents and the alleged witches. After two days had passed, they had to give up and the inquisitor got his wish. He could continue torturing the girl to get a full confession out of her.

 

[Doragon]

15

(From: Coven 2020)

Early the next day they brought Garazi back to the interrogation chamber, undressed her and tied her to a table. There were lots of iron instruments on the table next to her and they showed each to her to frighten her.

(From: Coven 2020)

“We are going to use these instruments on your body until you confess,” explained the inquisitor. “If you confess now, you save yourself a lot of pain.”

The girl shook her head, though she trembled with fear.

“We know you are a witch and we also know your lover is a witch as well. We’ll soon apprehend him and bring him in for torture as well.”

Garazi remained silent. Nobody knew the mountains better than Unai. He could stay out of their hands for quite some time. And she was not going to betray him.

(From: Coven 2020)

“Proceed,” the inquisitor finally said. His henchman went to work with an iron pin, sticking that in various parts of her body to make her bleed and hurt bad. But despite the painful wounds he inflicted to her arms and legs, Garazi kept refusing to confess to the lies.

(From: Coven 2020)

“Tie her on the block,” said the inquisitor, knowing it would make her feel a whole lot less comfortable than being tied on a flat table. The block they put her on only supported her lower back. And by tying ropes around her wrists and ankles they could stretch her limbs and keep her horizontal on the wooden block.

(From: Akelarre 1984)

It was extremely uncomfortable and her arms and legs were under constant strain. To make matters worse they brought shaving appliances to her and shaved her body, taking away the hairs in her armpits, from her legs and from her pubic area, until she only had the hair on her head left. To Garazi this felt extremely shaming and she felt even more naked than before.

(From: History of Pain - Inquisition)

Next they showed Garazi a collection of thin pins and large nails, all roughly made from iron. The thinner pins were used on her fingers, by pushing them under her fingernails. Garazi screamed and cried as this was excruciatingly painful. But somehow she endured until all her fingers were bleeding and burning with pain. She still refused to confess.

(From: History of Pain - Inquisition)

 

[Doragon]

16

“Maybe if we torture her more sensitive areas,” suggested Don Angel, trying to be helpful as always. The inquisitor agreed, but he had hoped to spare her this fate. Not that he felt sorry for the monster, but inflicting this kind of torture did something with the soul of those who applied it to the woman.

“One more time, girl,” he spoke to the weeping and shivering poor wretch. He was beginning to find it harder to see her as a monster, but maybe her weeping put a spell on him. So he kept his distance.

“Confess now or face even more horrible pain and humiliation.”

Garazi wanted desperately to end the pain and torture. Her position was extremely shaming and highly uncomfortable. Her hands and particularly her fingers were aching so bad from the pin torture, she could not stop herself from trembling and weeping. But if she confessed to the lies, her love Unai would suffer as well. So she steeled herself to endure this while she begged for mercy.

“Please, don’t you see it’s not true?” she whispered in despair.

The inquisitor was moved by her tears and feared the spell she might use on him. He quickly crossed himself and instructed the henchmen to proceed.

(From: History of Pain - Inquisition)

“Impale her right breast with a nail,” he said while covering his mouth with a napkin. The air in here was stale and the stench of sweat and blood was already making it hard to breath.



In the meantime Don Angel stepped a little closer to have a better view of the proceedings.

Garazi wept and cried when she felt the cruel hand of the henchman on her breast, squeezing her tender and soft flesh. This was no gentle lover’s touch of even that of a rapist. It was the hand of a butcher handling meat.

(From: History of Pain - Inquisition)

With a cry of pain and horror she felt something sharp being pressed against the thin skin of her breast and then piercing her skin, digging into the inner flesh of her breast. It was absolutely horrifying feeling that rusty thick nail digging into her breast, deeper and deeper, until it started make her skin to bulge out on the other side. The girl coughed and choked in pain, retching as she endured the most horrible of tortures. The nail in the meantime broke through her skin on the other side, traversing the soft orb of her breast and impaling her flesh. Blood coursed from the open wounds and ran down her shivering side.

The inquisitor felt sick and when asked if the other breast should also be impaled, he shook his head. He took a stick and tapped on the girl’s pubic area.

“Use the smaller nails… there,” he said and then turned away, having a hard time not to vomit. The local priest noticed his discomfort, which was not what he expected from an inquisitor. With concern he put a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“I can oversee this for you, your excellency,” he said slyly, hoping for consent to watch the procedures more closely. As a precaution he was wearing a strap around his crotch area to avoid any erection to be shown under his robes.

(From: History of Pain - Inquisition)

The inquisitor gave his consent and went over to the table himself to pour himself a glass of wine and do some prayers. The priest positioned himself between the girl’s feet to look at her sex, while the henchman put a cloth with the iron pin on her stomach. The girl wept when she felt fingers spreading her sex open. Feeling somebody touch her there was horrid. But when she felt the first pin being pushed into the fleshy bit of her clitoral hood, she screamed in absolute horror and pain. The place where her secret pleasure could be found by using her fingers at night, was now the place of her utmost pain.

(From: History of Pain - Inquisition)

Several more pins were used on her vaginal lips or into the fleshy bits inside the opening of her vagina. One went straight into her clitoris itself, which made her squirm so hard, she almost dislocated her shoulders and hips. But still she did not confess to anything, though by now she was screaming and weeping continuously.

(From: History of Pain - Inquisition)

 

[Doragon]

17

“Whip her,” said the inquisitor.

(From: History of Pain - Inquisition)

They put a short whip down on her stomach while they adjusted how her arms and legs were fastened, to keep her straight and outstretched on the block.

At first they whipped her thighs, which was very painful and made her scream and cry out in horror. After ten strokes they whipped her belly, until she was covered with red welts. Even breathing was hard now and she was shaking all over. Finally they turned to her breasts and they struck her many times, striping those soft fleshy orbs with red welts, hurting her nipples, making her tender skin feel ablaze.

(From: History of Pain - Inquisition)

“Confess,” shouted the inquisitor at her, starting to feel desperate at her stubbornness. “Or at least call out to Christ for mercy!” he added, “You haven’t asked God a single time for forgiveness yet.”

And she wasn’t going to. Instead she repeated with a hoarse voice it was all lies.

(From: History of Pain - Inquisition)

The inquisitor held up two fingers and a second henchman joined the first, also holding a whip. They repeated the whole series but double this time, whipping the poor defenceless girl from two sides with lashes in rapid succession.

(From: History of Pain - Inquisition)

Two times did they have to bring her around by pouring cold water over her face. Her whole body was red and full of thick stripes. And she was quivering in absolute pain.

(From: History of Pain - Inquisition)

 

[Doragon]

18

“Use the stick,” said the inquisitor from behind the table, panting and sweating and finding it harder and harder to witness the scene. “Use it inside her womanhood and if she has a baby of the devil, abort it.”

Garazi still had not confessed, but she had started to beg for mercy. She was very close to breaking, the inquisitor could feel it. This was the most brutal thing he could think of and it usually broke any woman’s soul.



The round stick was wider than a broomstick handle. Even pushing it into the squirming girl’s vagina was difficult and she cried out when the harsh object penetrated her recently deflowered vagina. Then they also moved the stick around inside her, causing her even more anguish. Don Angel had never seen anything like this and he had a spontaneous orgasm while he watched the wooden stick going in and out and tilting up and down inside the young woman’s vagina. The henchman was not trying to arouse her or anything, he was using the motions of the stick to map out the girl’s inner space, until he was sure where the entrance of her womb was. Then he pressed the rounded tip of the wooden stick against her cervix and pushed hard, slowly forcing it in.



This place of the female anatomy was not known by many, except doctors and midwives. The inner seal of a womb was only opening to let menstrual blood come out and during delivery of a baby. Nothing was ever supposed to go in there and it was normally firmly sealed. To use such a large wooden stick to breach that inner seal, was so excruciatingly painful, Garazi trashed with her entire body, dislocating one shoulder and almost the other as well. She lost consciousness.

They poured cold water over her body to wake her up and she wept gasping, trying to deal with the terrible aches she felt all over her body now.

“Confess,” said the inquisitor while holding a cross over her face. Garazi wailed. He made a gesture. With a scream of pain she felt how the stick was still inside her womb and was hurting her beyond measure when it moved. The henchman tilted the stick, wiggling it inside her aching womb and then stabbed it deep into her inner organ. Suddenly the poor woman screamed at the top of her lungs.

“I confess,” she screamed while she felt the movement inside her womb, the incredible pain of something that should not be there in her sacred inner space.



“I am a witch,” she cried out.