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Review This Story || Author: Kirsten Smart

The Witch

Part 10 Maria

Ten - Maria

A pause. A few moment s w here nothing happened.

Then the slow creak of wood, the grassy screech of ropes, and the wet popping of stressed cartilage and bone. Maria let out a long scream of pain, utterly powerless to stop the rack delivering its agony. H er thin body was drawn, hands roped to the top roller, ankles to its base, fierce tension in her young limbs. Sweat covered every inch of her, matted the wisps of hair in her armpits, the tiny tuft of black between her slim thighs. H er lush mane of black hair was splashed across the rack's coarse wood, her brows compressed in an expression of sheer bewilderment and pain, her red-lipped mouth wide, white teeth exposed as her scream expired into agonised wailing.

Luisa forced the roller again. Fresh groans from the machine and the fragile body upon it, another long scream. Maria shook her head, unable to believe the agony that burned through her limbs and ravaged her back, a red hot savagery that worsened with every passing minute.

Luisa enjoyed stretching women on the rack immensely. Not just the sounds of groaning wood, tearing joints, the endless screams. She enjoyed the position it put them in: arms above their heads, leg s w ide, the most humiliating and vulnerable position in which a woman could be bound. And then to extend that very position, to make it the cause of such pain, was a wonderful experience. And what pain! It took advantage of the entire body, exponential, controlled by the lever.

Luisa watched the ropes on the ends of Maria's gleaming arms and shining legs, and forced the lever again. She actually saw the moment the ropes pulled, saw Maria's body visibly stretch like tautening leather, and was rewarded by a long cry from the young woman. Maria's dark eye s w ere wide, her face a mask of pain. H er ribcage stood out, her tiny breasts drawn to nothing on her boyish chest.

“Please ... stop!” It was all Maria could manage, before her voice dissolved into an inarticulate yell of sheer torment.

 

W

 

The door to Solana's cell was opened, two guards and a physician entered. Central to the room, a dark and muscled body, oiled with grease and old sweat, hung naked from a shackle bar. H er head down, veiled by the black mane of her hair, Solana did not move.

“ H ow long has she been left unattended?”

“Our order s w ere for two days,” one of the guards replied.

The physician put his hand to the woman's shining chest. H e looked surprised. “She lives.”

The anchored chain was released, and clattered through the ring, Solana's limp body sliding to the slimy floor. She gave a moan, lying where she fell. The guards rolled her onto her stomach, drew her muscled arms behind her back, tied her wrists securely with rope.

H elpless, she was made to walk the labyrinth to the torture chamber. Past the Chair, then, much to her relief, past the dreaded rack. But in the depths of the chamber, by the light of low-burning torches, she came upon a scene that tore her heart from her chest.

“Oh, God ...”

The young woman lay, unbound and semi-conscious, on the flagstone floor. H er naked body wa s w et with perspiration. H er back and buttock s w ere a mess of bloody lines, easily two hundred lashes having landed on that flinching skin. Blood flecked the floor all around her, even a pillar some three yards distant.

Behind her, herself splashed in Maria's blood, stood Luisa Consuela, flanked by a guard.

“What have you done?” shrieked Solana. “What is this?”

“Thi s w hore -” Luisa pointed down at the barely-conscious Maria - “has disobeyed the Church, and me, by giving her body freely to the prisoners! For that, she pays the ultimate price!”

“Maria is innocent!” Solana's eye s w ere wide. She fought the guards, tear s w elling at the sight of Maria's ravaged body. “Please, let her be!”

“That is not part of the plan,” Luisa admitted. “Unless, of course, you confess to me.”

Solana froze. Could it really come to this? A simple word from her could free Maria from her anguish? Or was Luisa simply intent on destroying Maria regardless, attempting to break Solana's resistance in the process?

“Before you say anything, you should know that Maria has already suffered upon the rack, a s w ell as the lashes I laid upon her. She confessed to Witchcraft; to taking on my form and trying to seduce you.”

“What?”

“She confessed, and in her confession she also told me that you, too, are a witch.”

“And is it any surprise?” Solana struggled in her guards' restraint. “Upon the rack, anybody would say that!”

Luisa smiled. “Your devotion is touching.” To her guards: “Secure her.”

Solana was dragged to a pillar, to which a high set of manacle s w ere attached. H er hand s w ere untied, her wrists instead fettered above her head. While Solana was being secured, Maria's guard bound the young woman' s w rists securely behind her back with thick rope, tied her elbows together to pinion her arms completely. Poor Maria was utterly helpless.

But her ordeal was not over. There was a wooden bench, waist-high, no more than ten feet from where Solana now stood fettered. Maria gave a groan as, by her bound arms, she was lifted by her guard, dragged to the bench, and folded forward over it. Another guard produced ropes, and proceded to bind Maria's ankles to the legs of the table. H er slim leg s w ere widely parted, muscles defined, the black and hairy secrets of her sex and anus exposed. With her arms twisted and bound, she could not resist. Finally, Maria's body was forced down onto the table so that her breast s w ere pressed to the wood, and a weighted iron hasp was placed over the back of her neck. Additional weight s w ere placed upon its base, so that she could not rise.

Solana looked on in despair. The slim young woman, legs parted, arms bound behind her back, bent forwards over the table. Now, Luisa stepped into view, and Solana saw with horror the instrument the beautiful torturer held.

“The Pear,” Luisa said. She raised the device, turned its screw a few times to open the bulbous blades, then closed them again. “I want you to watch.”

“Noo!” Solana shook her chains in horror as Luisa put the cold nipple-like tip of the Pear against the delicate, hairy brown star of Maria's anus. The young woman jerked in her ropes, but was helpless. Firmly, Luisa pushed, and Solana saw the metal device sink inside Maria's rectum. At once, Maria was crying out in pain, her sphincter cruelly stretched by the intrusion. Inch by inch, it was forced inside her.

“Please, Mistress,” Maria begged. She wa s w ell aware of the Pear's function, and her voice shook with terror.

“You are a dirty little whore,” Luisa said coldly. “And you must suffer.” Finally, looking at Solana, Luisa gave the screw of the Pear a turn. Maria's slim body jolted violently as the sectioned bulb began to flower inside her bowels, and the pain hit.

“Ohhhh! Please, stop!”

“Watch what happens, now, Witch,” Luisa told Solana.

“Stop it!” Solana shrieked. “Stop hurting her!”

But Luisa turned the Pear again. This time, Maria let out a scream of pain. The metal segments of the Pear were slowly forcing her rectum wider, and the pain was unbearable. Droplets of sweat beaded all down the taut backs of her bare legs, over her buttocks and back. She struggled desperately to free her bound wrists and arms, but was helpless to stop Luisa turning the screw a third time.

Maria let out a bellow of agony; odd squeaking and creaking sound s w ere coming from inside her pelvis as the torture device began to do it s w ork. A trickle of blood emerged, to run down the sweaty skin of Maria's thigh. H er scream s w ere manic, long and terrible.

“Scream for me, slut!” Luisa shouted, and turned the Pear's screw again. This time, loud cracking sounds came from Maria's rectum, and her screams reached a new pitch. H er sphincter, tight around the Pear's narrow base, mercifully hid the terrible consequences of the widening device, but for another run of crimson blood.

“Stop it! Stop it now!” Solana tugged and jerked on her chained wrists, weeping openly at the atrocity she witnessed, but Luisa was feeding on Solana's misery, and slowly, cruelly, twisted the Pear's screw once more. Maria screamed like a woman insane, jerking in her ropes, shrieking and baying in agony as the awful, muffled sounds of her rectum tearing apart reached those around her. Already, her injurie s w ould be fatal; but the Pear was not yet fully open, and Luisa twisted the screw again.

More creaking and tearing sounds, but this time Maria's screams caught in her throat, and instead became a long, hoarse wail. H er body was covered in sweat, as if she had just been doused in water. H er struggles eased, her bound hands rested against the small of her back, as if in final acceptance of her pain. H er moaning and wailing continued, but were growing feeble.

Luisa finally seemed to accept that the torture had proceeded far enough. Closing the Pear, she withdrew it from Maria's anus, bloodied and steaming. A short gush of bloody gore splattered to the floor below Maria's spread legs, and her body shuddered, as if the life was already ebbing.

“Execute the little whore,” Luisa growled.

Until now, Solana had not seen the long rope that swayed from a high pulley. But she saw it now, and the noose tied in its end. As two guards set about releasing Maria's neck and bound ankles, Solana's eye s w idened. “No!”

Maria gave another groan as the guards dragged her to the rope. Unable to stand on her own, she was held upright as Luisa placed the noose over her head, tightened it around her neck. It was Luisa, too, who went to the simple winch that would wind the rope in.

“Say your final prayers, Witch,” Luisa spat, and turned the crank. Solana gave a wail as the rope tautened. Maria's head was drawn up by the constricting rope, her lips parting. Inch by inch, Maria's small body was hauled off the floor. The noose crunched about her slender neck, and her eyes fluttered open. The guards released her bound arms, and her bare feet scrabbled in panic for the flagstone floor, her body twisting as she tried to free her hands.

“Let her down!” Solana shouted. Maria's eyes bugged, her face deep red. She was hanging by the neck, her bare toes a mere three inches above the ground. She thrashed about, kicking for the floor, twisting and jerking in the effort to free her hands. She tried to scream: an odd croaking came from her open mouth. Sweat beaded on her brow.

“Cut her down!” Solana wailed, desperately trying to free herself and save the girl. But she could do nothing, and seconds became minutes. Maria was strangling. H er body thrashed about. A line of blood appeared from her nose. H er swelling tongue popped from her mouth, as purple as her face. Solana gave a wail of horror. “Please, Luisa, please cut her down!”

“This is your doing, witch.” Luisa hissed in reply.

Still Maria struggled, though she was growing weaker. H er eye s w ere wide, a long rattle escaping her constricted throat. H er toes still searched for the floor, though her hand s w ere now relaxed in their bondage, as if she had resigned herself to the inevitability of death. A cascade of urine sprayed from between her legs, puddled below her swinging feet. The rope from which she hung creaked. For an endless time, she slowly swung, dying, helpless.

Finally, no movement at all. Maria dangled on the rope's end, her toes drooping, fingers limp beyond her bonds, head tilted above the noose. H er eye s w ere still open, the agony of her death on her young face.


Review This Story || Author: Kirsten Smart
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