The witch hunting business was a profitable one to Andrew Cronken. The panic in the minds of the inhabitants mesmerized them into following any suggestion, falling into line with the most outlandish and farfetched accusations. There was greed as well working on his side, it was always possible to find a local magistrate, or squire, or even a nobleman, to go along with him for a share of the profits from the confiscated estates of the condemned witches.
Some of the folks half believed the nonsense in the end, their consciences salved by the self-delusion. Cronken himself was at times ready to believe in the existence of witchcraft, even in the guilt of some of his victims.
It did not matter however, the pleasure of the questioning was the important part. Women had always turned from the ugly pockmarked, hunched over travesty of manhood that Andrew Cronken presented. There was always at least one beauty among the chosen victims, one beauty to be broken and degraded and mutilated. It was the satisfaction he craved, and apparently the satisfaction as well that the crowd most hungered for. They were always present in vast numbers to watch the beauties being stripped and broken, condemned and executed. There was something in the crowd that hated beauty, Cronken understood that. Beauty had bypassed them as it had rejected him, and they too craved their vengeance.
Cronken's assistant, Joseph Maledon also hated beauty. He too had been rejected by women, his angular bony body and crooked features turning off his appeal to them. He hated them even more than Andrew, and his cruelty was sharper.
The innocent young nineteen-year-old girl, Jane Fraser, was discovering that. With her large, clear blue eyes and long golden streaming hair she was a natural victim, the envious people of the village more than eager to believe in her guilt, so as to be rid of her and enjoy the spectacle of her death.
"Come, child. Confess your guilt," Andrew demanded.
Even as he hypocritically demanded her confession Joseph was running his hand along her bottom, probing with filthy, unwashed fingers into her two virginal cavities, front and back.
"I am innocent," she screamed, "as you well know, you monster. Aaaaiieeeee."
Joseph had hooked the fingers he had clawed into her and he raked the tender flesh. She squirmed and struggled in futility against her chains.
"Confess or suffer far worse."
Maledon slapped her across the face, his hand flashing back and forth, back and forth, pounding pain into her. He kept at it, slapping her pretty features, making her bleed from the mouth. "If you confess your death shall be an easy one. You will be merely hanged and then burned. If not, you shall be slowly burned alive, inch by inch. I can prolong this for many hours, flogging you every minute of the interminable hours of your death."
She broke down and wept as the brutal Maledon toyed with her breasts. He pinched up the nipples, running the pliable buds through his fingers. He scratched at the peaks with his fingernails, beginning to increase the pressure upon her.
"Confess, daughter of Satan."
Rebellious pride showed in her eyes. She spit into the face of the witchfinder's torturer. The brute opened wide her jaws and retaliated by spitting down her throat, again and again. She choked and turned red, and began to vomit. The torturer stepped back to avoid the mess.
"Collect that mess," Andrew commanded. "We shall examine it for signs of the devil's concoctions."
Of course, his biased examination would find the ingredients. Also, the foul mess would be just the thing to break the spirit of Carson, the merchant. They would force the old man to swallow down the foul slop and other messes until he broke and admitted his guilt.
Andrew struck out with his whip, slashing a long red stripe across Jane's tits under the pink nipple buds.
"Aaaarrrooowwww. "
"You will confess or suffer far worse." He motioned to Joseph. "Proceed with the questioning."
The next hours plunged Jane into the depths of hell. She was fondled and handled on every inch of her body. Bruises covered her entire wonderful form as the evil villain pressed and pinched her soft contours and rolls of white lusciousness between his hands, making her body turn black with bruising. He opened her pussy and pressed his fingers up into her, fingerfucking her with as many as four fingers at one time, forcing his fingers up her ass hole as well.
She was flogged. The brutal whip scarred and gashed her lovely bottom. They made her bleed, strips of skin dangled down from her flogged buttocks. Maledon tore away a few pieces of the shredded skin. He then ran his hands over her lacerated bottom, pressing his nails into every depression and gash, swirling his fingertips into and over her battered ass.
They twisted her tits, twisted her fingers, pulled at her nipples, slapped her face. She still stubbornly refused to break.
"We shall have to proceed to more drastic measures." Jane whimpered in fear. Tears coursed down her pale cheeks, but she refused to confess to her imaginary crimes. When she confessed to them, she would surely be lost. They would then condemn and execute her.
"Let us search for the devil's marks," Andrew suggested. He grinned an evil, crooked grin at her, showing his yellow teeth.
Jane screamed. She knew the way they searched for the devil's marks, probing and lancing her flesh with a pin until they found a dead, nonresponsive area which they called the devil's mark.
The horror commenced. Joseph used a long pin, with a dagger shaped handle. He used it like a dagger, plunging it into the delicate moist underarm pit, slowly turning and twisting it as he shoved it in a fraction of an inch at a time, changing constantly the jagged course of the pin through her flesh as he punctured deeper and deeper. Every inch of her body shook and trembled and she screamed until foam flecked upon her lips. Greasy sweat poured down her body, a long red thread ran from the puncture as he continued to turn the pin around and around between his fingers, twisting it inside her flesh. He plucked the pin out of her body.
"That was not the devil's mark," he snickered.
"Keep searching for it then, good sir."
Jane's screams were heard throughout the village, as she roared out her pain in the dungeon of the gaol. There were some sickened by her plight, full of sympathy but fearing to stand up to the fiends. Others gloated at the suffering, looking forward with keen anticipation to the public ordeals that were to follow.
The pin was shoved through the corona of the right nipple. It went in, all of four inches in one smooth and sure stroke. Then it was drawn out. Again it penetrated, a slight fraction of an inch from the previous puncture. They began to feel the thrill of the blood lust as they tortured the innocent girl.
Again and again the pin was forced through her flesh. Into the nipples, into the surrounding white substance of her shapely breasts. Into the soft swell of her belly, still retaining a small tender amount of baby fat which was repeatedly pierced by the blood seeking sharp pin. Her thighs were also pricked, as well as the firm and fleshy buttocks. Her ass was especially stabbed in the areas that had already been whipped, in this way they increased the pain and discomfort she felt.
The hours went by and her body was a ghastly blood smeared twitching and spasming thing. They had stabbed her many hundreds of times with the pin. At last she was half delirious with pain and she failed to react to several of the stabs into less sensitive areas of her flesh.
"The devil's marks have been found," Andrew chuckled. "We shall make due note of it. Tomorrow we shall progress to rigorous tortures to make this witch confess to her hellish blasphemies."
"A lie!" she screamed. "A damned lie!"
Her cries were silenced by the expedient of a gag thrust into her mouth by the vicious Male-don, who took the opportunity to run his greasy hands all over the white contours of her body. He pinched one of the tender pin ravaged nipples between his fingers and twisted it back and forth, inflicting terrible pain upon her.
"That will be enough for now," Cronken cautioned his assistant. "We will give her the night to reflect upon her diabolical transgressions. If she proves stubborn in the morning, we will know the ways to reach her vixen's heart." Maledon seized her by her lustrous hair and wrenched out a handful of the rich growth. "Aye, that we will. I shall brand this doxy until no eye will want to take in her nakedness."
He sniffed the mingled rich scent of her female body and the rank odor of terrible fear. She would not prove a stubborn case when he went to work upon her softness in earnest.
As the two gloating torturers walked off the wretched girl considered the horror of her plight. In all the world, only her fiance, Captain William Benteen would stand up for her against the lies concocted to doom her. But he was far away, in the field against the Scots. By the time he heard of the conspiracy against her, she would be broken and burned and dead. It was too awful to contemplate.
She tried to imagine why such a thing had happened to her. She had merely been walking past the tavern of the town when she had been accosted by Joseph Maledon screaming out that he recognized a daughter of Satan. He had grasped her in rough hands that clawed and reached everywhere. Unaware of what was happening she had fought him, screaming to her friends that she was being attacked by a madman, amazed at their lack of response to her plight.
It was not until she stood before the dreaded witchfinder that she realized what was happening, a witch hunt in the village. What madmen had summoned this monster in the guise of a man?
She had protested her innocence at first. Then she quickly realized that they cared not whether she was innocent. With growing horror she came to understand that they knew she was innocent. Only when the hands of Maledon stripped her naked and the bony fingers were shoved up her cunt entrance and ass hole did she realize what was really happening and the horrors that yet awaited her.
Maledon and Cronken went off to the center of the town to see how the merchant, Carson, was coming along. The rich old bastard had made many enemies, and there were more who coveted his wealth and longed to see his downfall. Now the old miser was in the stocks, naked and helpless before the vengeance and malice of the townspeople.
The villagers pelted him with rotten vegetables, threw stones at him. One old crone poked around from behind at his bottom with a long stick.
"Usurer, miser. Witch. Devil worshiper."
"Nay, I be innocent of that charge."
The old crone shoved the stick into the messy ass hole, rubbing the rough wood along the inner cavity. "Lying bastard, you'll soon be joining your master, Satan."
"Eeaahhhh. Help me."
There were none to aid him or to call off the wrath of the vindictive old hag.
Cronken laughed cynically. Everywhere that he went, how simple to rally the evil of the people to his cause.
"Nothing be simpler than to accuse some poor fool of witchcraft. For what greater fools be there than the common run of mankind."
Joseph Maledon scratched at his sores. "True. And the profit be immense as well. What with the fee for uncovering the witches plus our share of the confiscations, we will soon be rich men indeed."
Cronken walked over to the pathetic old man. He peered with vast amusement into the face almost obscured by all of the filth thrown upon it.
"Are you ready to admit to your crimes and throw yourself upon the mercy of those you have wronged?"
"I swear that I am innocent."
Cronken smashed his hand across the old man's mouth, cutting his face with his rings.
"I'll have that dirty hide of yours peeled off an inch at a time until you admit to the truth, old blasphemer."
They left him there in his misery to think about what awaited him. Then they went off to the tavern, The Four Drams, to enjoy the charms of Meg and Bess, the tavern whores.
The girls were none too happy to see them, to experience the evil clutching hands that pulled up their skirts and roamed around inside their cunt tunnels.
Joseph kissed Meg on the mouth, letting his dribble roll down her chin, filling her poor abused mouth with his saliva and the foul stench of his breath. Knowing how undesirable his presence was to her only inspired him to fresh efforts in inflicting misery upon her body and mind.
Locked in Joseph's strong grip, Bess whimpered and sobbed at the way he handled the rich expanses of her stripped naked white ass, pinching and clawing the ass halves bloody, spanking and punching her bottom. He shoved his thumbs in and out of her ass hole and then wiped his thumbs clean inside her mouth. He seized a hunkful of the rolling and deeply creased ass globes, massive fat ass halves, which he brutally assailed with his fists, pounding and pounding.
"This wench is in love with me, I wager."
The evil laugh of the two vicious bullies filled the empty tavern. The regular patrons feared and avoided their presence as if they were carriers of the plague, which was only to be expected.
They whipped the two girls, forcing them to hold onto one another, mashed breast to breast, as the brutal hands flailed at them with unrelenting force.
"Be good to us witches, otherwise we might find that you really do know the evil ways of witchcraft."
The threat was enough to terrify them into total compliance. They allowed their bottoms to be flogged until the blood ran from their butchered flesh. Joseph poured ale over the bruised and bleeding bottom, then wallowed his hands through the gory meat, cupping and wrenching handfuls of the hurting white matter.
"Suck my cock, you dirty bitch," he commanded Bess, slapping her mouth until it bled.
Andrew ran his finger along a tear line trickling from Meg's right eye.
"It has been my unfortunate experience that many tavern maids actually are worshippers of the dark one. We have many times been forced to purge their young bodies with fire and the lash."
Meg threw herself at his feet, her face pressed to his grimy boots. She knew that the evil bastards were capable of any inhumanity. If some of the more respectable members of the town were taken in by them, she was not.
"Mercy kind sir, mercy in the love of God." Andrew laughed as he ran his hands through her hair while contemplating the damage done to her shapely bottom.
"We shall see girl whether you be sincere in your words."
He spit on the left boot. It was a greasy, heavy gob of slime. He pressed her face to it, and she knew what the monster wanted. Sick to her stomach, she commenced licking the foul spit off of his boot. As she licked it he rained blows upon her bottom with his whip, cutting her tail to pieces. Joseph poured ale over the lacerated bottom, and then kicked her ass again and again, until his boot was sloshing into a mass of bloody meat.
"These two wenches will not soon be forgetting their night of passion with us."
They pounded and raped the tender bodies, making the hot blood spurt from cuts and gashes all over the fleshy, fatted forms. When they were finished in the morning the girls were semiconscious, their bodies badly bruised and striped from neck to ankle.
"You will be wanting the coin for your services, sluts," he mocked them.
With consummate cruelty he edged a gold coin up Meg's ass, shoving it all of the way up and knowing full well the pain and suffering it would cause her to retrieve it out of the bloodied channel of her ass hole.
CHAPTER TWO
Jane had spent a night in hell, sick with fear at the horrible fate that awaited her. That day she dreaded came all too soon. It hardly seemed she closed her eyes before she was rudely wakened by fingers probing inside her honey hole.
"Awake and confess, you evil harlot."
Joseph shoved his fingers around inside her hole, trying to arouse a bit of fire in her. But his touch was so repellant to her that he could kindle no blaze. His wrath turned upon the innocent girl.
"Do you find my touch so ill to your liking, you dirty slut? I will have to teach you then to appreciate my gentle caresses." Saying this he began to stroke her tits with his fingernails, slowly at first, then sawing with greater and greater force at the vulnerable buds until he made her body explode with pain.
"I cannot stand it, I cannot stand it." Nevertheless she was forced to endure it, and this was only the feeble beginning of the day's ordeal. Andrew Cronken was heating the branding irons within the fire. He held the irons in the center of the blaze heating them to red hot intensity. "I think, bitch, that you'll soon be confessing all of your evil transgressions."
The flat of Joseph's hand flashed across her face, cutting her mouth. He began to strike her again and again, faster and more furiously, until the blood began to run from her mouth and her cheeks crimsoned under the pounding violence.
"Do not knock the whore unconscious, my fine fellow. I have this hot iron I wish to acquaint her with."
"Oh no, no, no." Jane struggled against her chains as the iron was drawn close to her trapped body.
"Are you ready to confess?"
"Damn you to hell, you inhuman monster." This was the wrong answer to the foul fiend's inquiry. With a cry of rage he thrust the iron into her breast, grinding the red hot metal into the blazing, disintegrating, blackening flesh, grinding it into the pit it burned into the soft skin. The girl let out a piercing scream that transfixed and chilled the bones of all the villagers within hearing, a scream that seemed to emanate from the depths of hell.
The cavity burned into the breast gave off a rising plume of smoke that curled above her head. Beads of sweat covered every inch of her body as she slumped forward unconscious, seeming to be sleeping peacefully as a child. Andrew Cronken loved the sight of sweat sheening the rich body of a young girl undergoing torture.
"Wake her."
Maledon woke her in a simple manner, by prodding the point of his blade around inside the wound burned into her breast. Intense hurt beyond belief or endurance flooded through the tortured girl's body. She surged and threshed in her chains with so much unleashed frenzy in the grip of her agony that she literally tore her wrists and ankles bloody against the unrelenting grip of her chains.
"I think that the little harlot is awake now. Ask the bitch very politely and gently if she wishes to purge her conscience by signing a full and uncoerced confession to the crimes she committed under the vile urgings of Satan."
The blade of the knife probed insistently and menacingly at her sexual organs, outlining and caressing with its sharp grip her pubes, the hairy sex mound with its well formed lips and clitoris button.
Jane whimpered with dread, her eyes transfixed to the movement of the razor sharp blade in such horrible proximity to her most vulnerable bodily parts. The blade continued its sweep over her contours as Maledon ran the sharp blade over the welts slashed upon her back and bottom.
"Do you wish to confess?"
Jane screamed as Maledon thrust his finger into the raw black wound on her tit, the crater burned into her with red hot metal, and twisted his finger deep into the offended flesh.
"Aaaiiiieeeee, oh yes, aaieee--stop it. I will confess, I will, I will."
In the presence of the corrupt and sinister magistrate, the local scum that Cronken depended upon in this particular situation for backing, the confession was scripted out by Cronken and read out to the broken, tortured girl.
Even the heartless magistrate was shocked by her condition, but he kept his squeamishness under control so as not to offend his feared fellow conspirator. He allowed his hands to roam over Jane's body, invited to do so by the malevolent Cronken.
"Here is the confession that you will sign and publicly confess to, my dear girl. You had carnal knowledge of the devil, archenemy of heaven. You did lick his ass and kiss his balls. You sucked his prick into your mouth and did drink down his black seed as it spurted into your mouth. You ate the devil's shit, playing with it, sucking and chewing it. You sucked the pricks of his demons, and the pricks of horses, donkeys, dogs, and pigs. You did rape the cunts of young and innocent virgins, sucking the tender juices from their bodies to spit down the mouth of the unholy demon, Abbadon."
"Lies, lies."
Joseph slashed her across her tits with a whip. The coiling lash slashed a long red tear under her twin cone nipples.
"Aiieeee. Oh no."
"Silence, witch. You will listen to the indictment and then you will sign it. And remember that you will confess the whole thing in the village square."
She received a few more lashes upon her abused bottom. Her will was broken, she could not bear any more pain, and the branding irons were still heating in the fire.
"To continue, you did corrupt the young and innocent, even babies in their cradles. You did cast spells that caused sickness and death. You put the young men under your power and did cast spells upon them which allowed you to steal the seed from their bodies to give over to the unholy devil while they slept in ignorant innocence."
She lacked the will to object. She nodded her head in weary assent to the charges. Then she allowed them to make her sign. Andrew held her hand to the paper and she wrote her name.
This was not the end of her frightful ordeal of suffering, only the beginning. Maledon and Cronken could now do what they wished with her. They decided that public ceremonies of exorcism were in order. They would purge her body of devils with pain and suffering. They would allow the villagers to watch the spectacle, to thrill to the perverse sexuality disguised under the cloak of holiness, to allow their own simmering evil to be unleashed and vented upon the beautiful Jane Fraser.
Jane was strapped naked belly down upon an iron stool upon the framework wooden scaffolding that had been erected for the ugly business of torturing and executing the witches. They decided to purge her body by allowing the townspeople to beat upon her bottom with the flats of their hands.
Cronken made passes over her body with his hands gloved in long elbow length red gloves embroidered with golden crosses. It was an impressive bit of showmanship. He muttered Latin words that the fools could not understand and made the morons kneel in prayer with him.
After that they fell upon Jane one by one, their hands slapping her white, whip scarred bottom, which began to discolor to an ever deepening hue of crimson under the incessant pounding. People who had been oppressed and exploited all of their short and miserable lives took out their vengeance upon this victim offered to them with the blessing of church and state and the local authorities.
Men rejected by the proud Jane pounded her bottom, hundreds of times their cruel hands rained the blows down upon the amber tinged bottom. They flailed the ass until her screams were continuous and foam poured from her mouth.
"The devils are in flight, drive the devils from her body with pain, save her soul by torturing her flesh and driving the evil from her."
Most of them, more than half believed the drivel. Old hags slapped and kneaded the tender blood colored bottom halves. Their gnarled hands were not as powerful as those of lusty young men, but they struck with all of their might.
The ugly young girls who hated Jane were the worst. They did not merely spank her poor ass, they clawed and raked the bottom globes until the skin was ripped to bloody tatters. A few of them actually clawed strips of her skin off with their talons.
"Look," Andrew remarked cynically to his brutal partner, "as always the ladies are the worst of the lot. They inflict the cruelest penalties upon Mistress Fraser."
As the pounding continued Jane's internals gave out. Hot shit and piss flooded out of her pathetic body.
"See," Andrew shouted in excitement, "you do drive the devils from her. Keep up the good work."
One old crone dipped her hands into the reeking mess. She smeared it upon Jane's face and thrust her crooked, bony fingers into Jane's mouth, filling her mouth with the foul brown waste.
After the dozens of villagers who wished to participate in the punishment had pounded hundreds of spanks upon Jane's bottom, then they decided to purge her internals. A concoction of shit, piss, mule turds, castor oil, and vinegar was heated. Jane became hysterical with terror, and her eyes darted about frantically in their sockets, as the steaming bowl was brought close to her. She smelled the hideous concoction that they meant to force into her. A funnel was rammed between her teeth, she could not keep it out. The slop was then poured into her, hot and steaming, with clots of filth throughout the thick liquid. The taste was that of all the dead and rotten things of the world gathered together and boiled in a cauldron.
Jane went into spasms of horrible writhings and contortions. She vomited out the brew and everything within her poor body. She kept on retching long after she had finished emptying out everything within her.
They were not satisfied. The funnel was rammed into her ass hole, the puckered door of her ass chamber wrenched open and the funnel rammed deep into her. The foul concoction was then poured into her ass hole. She was given a three quart enema with it. When the poison was spurted out of her ass along with all the remaining solid and fluid muck within her she had literally been drained out completely, front and back. There was a taste in her mouth horrible beyond description, and a horrible feeling spread through her entire body, the feeling that her insides had been twisted into knots and then the knots had been torn apart and the fibers of her broken and bleeding insides strewn around.
Jane's eyes rolled in their sockets. She had turned a ghastly shade of white. Her body stank with a hideous odor, and bubbles of froth dried upon her still twitching lips. Every inch of her body was sheened with a thick coating of unhealthy sweat as if she was a plague victim.
"I think," said Joseph with a leer to his partner, "that she may have been purged of her evil devils."
"It would not surprise me in the least. But now the poor thing must be given some rest. Perhaps grace shall descend upon her. In any case, her end is nigh."
The girl was left alone, after she had been scrubbed down with buckets of water that eventually cleaned her body, but could not wash away the shock and degradation from her spirit and mind.
She lay there throughout the long hours of night, sick and bewildered. A blanket had been thrown over her. She was in terrible condition, feverish and weak from pain. Even worse than the pain was the horrible taste in her mouth, the taste of rot and shit that refused to go away.
Watching her from a dark corner was Willie, the half idiot hunchback who was despised and mistreated by nearly all of the villagers. He was fond of Jane Fraser, who did not mistreat him and occasionally gave him a coin or a meal for a bit of work. She was one of the few in the miserable village who was anything close to a friend for the poor wretch, and he felt for her.
In the small hours of the night, waking from a feverish nightmare, half dreaming and half delirious, Jane thought that a twisted and deformed gnome was working upon her chains with a file. She imagined that she was going mad from pain, or delirious with sickness. Perhaps, after all, it was really an imp out of hell. Well, hell could not be any worse than what she had undergone. She allowed herself to sink into a black pit, uncaring of what went on.
She awakened from the dark nightmare of pain and fear to find a warmth upon her body.
Every inch of her body throbbed with nerve shattering agony, but the warmth upon her bloody skin felt good and clean, the familiar warmth of the blessed sun. Then she became aware that she was being carried, something moved beneath her belly.
"Aaahh--aaaahhh." Broken babbling cries erupted from her throat. The misshapen body that bore her put her down upon the ground. Suddenly she came out of her shock and knew that it was crippled little Willie who carried her.
"P-please, do not fear me. I wanted to save you from those awful people."
He held up his file to her. "Look, I cut the chain and took you away quietly in the night. None saw me, none heard me. I was very quiet." Jane choked and her eyes filled with tears. This wretched little cripple who all of the others spurned and felt contempt for had saved her from horror. She feebly lifted her face and thanked him for his rescue.
The little hunchback turned red, and sputtered. He shifted from foot to foot.
"I must take you to a safe place."
"Where will you take me, Willie?"
"To my burrow, the hole that I live in. Nobody will find you there, as they have never found me there."
Jane looked at him in amazement. All of the villagers had wondered at one time or another where the little man lived, the refuge he had found from the elements and the cruelty of his fellows. It had not occurred to any of them that it might be a hole, a pit, a burrow in he ground that he lived in as snugly as any animal nestled.
"Y-yes, Willie. You must take me to your burrow and hide me. And you must not say a word to anybody. You must hide me there, and keep quiet. You must avoid the others, or they will discover what you have done and hurt you as they have hurt me."
Jane Fraser felt a bit of strength returning with her hope. It was surprising the resources she could muster in her extremity when it was necessary. But now she wanted very badly to live, to take her vengeance and to live.
She tried to stand, but her legs turned to jelly under her, and she fell over. She tried again to stand up, but keeled over again.
"Willie, I am too weak to stand. You must carry me further to your sanctuary. I am sorry, Willie, but you must do this, for they must be after me by now. And if they find me, they will do horrible things to us both."
The only hope was that none had seen the hunchback in his errand of mercy as he assured her. Jane was inclined to believe this. If he had been seen they would have been apprehended. Willie had learned to avoid others, to escape from cruel voices and cruel hands. He had learned to avoid and to see and to be invisible. And who would suspect him, who would imagine that such a little and insignificant crippled man with feeble wits could dare and accomplish what others had feared to do. Who would respect him enough to credit him with rescuing her.
"You must carry me the rest of the way, Willie. I am sorry for this, but I cannot walk yet."
"Gladly, I will gladly carry you."
As he put her upon his back, he felt a strange surge through his body, a strange feeling that he had felt when first he took her up. Jane Fraser noticed this, and it touched her in a way that the little man responded to her naked lushness.
She had never thought of Willie having the desires of a normal man, of feeling lust. But if he wanted her, she would more than gladly oblige him, for he had saved her from torture and death.
CHAPTER THREE
Andrew Maledon ranted and raved, striding back and forth in a towering fury, the purple veins prominent and throbbing in his temples and upon the cords of his neck.
"Who would dare, who in this shit hole of a pig sty would dare to rob me of my prey."
All through the town the searchers moved, tearing open every hole, every dark corner, every possible hiding place. But Jane was nowhere to be found.
Andrew held up the chain that had bound her. It had been sawed through with a file. That was obvious. "She did not do this herself. She could not escape by herself. Some bastard has aided her. The dog shall be skinned alive and fed to the crows."
Joseph looked shriveled and frightened, the way he always did when things went wrong. He was, after all, a coward at heart. "Do you think that some official might have helped her? Are the authorities closing upon our heels?"
"Do not snivel, Maledon. We are still in charge here. There are none to call us out. We shall get her back, or put another in her place. But I like this not, none have ever escaped out of my hands before."
His pride had been stung. He took out his anger upon the body of poor Meg. He locked himself in her hovel of a room with the blubbering girl for the rest of the day, allowing Joseph Maledon to oversee the search. He whipped Meg's soft, puffy belly, tearing the rolls of fat with his whip. He bit and clawed the torn skin, fucking the girl up the ass when he had finished this. He put her upon her whipped belly and rammed his cock up her resistant and reluctant ass hole, feeling the shit pit gape and yawn open to receive his rough lunges and wild assaults.
He rammed back and forth, in and out, drawing his weapon almost clear of the friction warmed, tortured back hole, then plunging forward all the way into her again. She suffered in silence, with a shit smeared rag stuffed into her throat.
"All of you dirty sluts are the same. All women should be made into slaves and common property of men, and whipped daily. There are few of you indeed fit to live. I will not cheat this town of its spectacle or myself of my price for the burning of a witch. If Jane Fraser is not found you shall take her place. I will roast all of that fat from your bones."
She lunged forward in terror, sick at heart. He redoubled his violent lunges inside her tender body, striving to break her spirit with his animal fury. He fucked and fucked her ass hole, until it was raw and a source of continuous throbbing pain to poor Meg.
After that he beat her, slapping every inch of her body slowly, inch by inch. He rejoiced in her terrible sufferings.
At the end of the day Maledon came to see him. The man was rueful and in an ugly mood, drunk and ready to commit murder.
"She is nowhere to be found. Some foul scum has stolen her from under our thumb."
"Never mind. We shall blame the devil for this little mishap. He obviously rescued one of his own. But we shall not be cheated of our little festival. We shall take these two common sluts, Meg here, and her friend Bess. These fat and jolly wenches will serve our purpose. Perhaps this is better, for we shall have two lovelies instead of one. I believe the populace will also be pleased by this alteration. Yes, this is a good notion."
And so it was done. Upon the morrow the poor girls were dragged naked through the streets to the platform of suffering. Switches wielded by angry women and lecherous men flogged their bouncing, wiggling bottoms raw. They were good subjects for the torture with all of the bouncy meat upon their bones.
"These are the culprits," Cronken asserted. "These daughters of the unholy one have rescued their sister and perhaps spirited her away to the depths of hell. In any case they have doomed her soul to damnation by spiriting her away from saving grace. But they shall pay for this transgression in her place."
"All lies!" Bess screamed. "We both are innocent." A switch slashed across her wide open gaping pussy hole. She screamed and jumped about, as blows were rained savagely upon her bottom and breasts.
"Tie up this lying witch, that she may undergo the penalty of an ally of the devil."
Coarse and brutal hands seized her, fingers thrust up into her well used recesses. She was trussed up, hanging from her hands with her kicking legs well clear of the ground.
"Now I shall whip the devil from you, strumpet," declared the sadistic Maledon.
His whip sang through the air, clutching a well padded hip. It sank into the tender flesh, splitting it open and leaving a deep blood gash in the ripe and white meat. Again the whip flailed out, to coil between the girl's pumping legs, sinking into the hair patched sex petals, cutting across the sex lips with shocking force. The girl screamed with the agony of the damned as the whip slashed a deep furrow into her sex lip membrane. Again the whip tore at her, slashing across her shoulder blades, snapping around her sides to rip across one tender armpit. The biting tip of the whip fanged into her face, slashing a tear into her cheek. Again the whip criss-crossed over the whip cut in her back, around her body, to grip and savage both bobbing breasts.
"Cut the witch to ribbons," cried an old crone, up front to see the sport.
"Make that big dirty arse bounce," sang out an old maid who envied the girl all of her fucking and sucking.
"Give us a better look at her hole," shouted a young man who had sampled Bess's wares but had no compunction about seeing her tortured.
As this savage public spectacle went on, the escaped prisoner, Jane Fraser was on the mend in a burrow inhabited by Willie, the hunchbacked village idiot.
Willie was not the total fool that one and all had suspected him of being. In the course of his miserable and hectic life he had picked up a few pieces of knowledge that were necessary for his survival. He had learned to make pastes and jellies of various herbs that helped in the mending of cut and bruised flesh. He applied coatings of these remedies to Jane's body, flushing and thrilling to the touch of her soft and tender skin as he rubbed it into her.
Jane thought of the horror she had gone through, and the peril she remained in. Until she could get far away from the village, from the county, she would not be safe from the reach of the witchfinder.
Somehow she would have her revenge of the animal. This she vowed. It was not apparent to her how she might accomplish this. Her one hope was her lover, Captain Benteen. He was a reputable and dangerous swordsman and he had a company of troops under his command. Despite Cronken's connections and power, the captain would kill him if he came within reach of the bastard.
She though of what must be occurring in the village. The other innocent unfortunates, rich and friendless, would soon go to their deaths. It was apparent to Jane that the entire business of finding witches was a mere ruse, there were no witches in all probability. And if there were, there were certainly no witches in the village.
In the village Maledon was very slowly whipping Bess's ripe and fleshy body to pieces. He concentrated upon the big and pear shaped tits which dangled down almost to her waist. He slashed at the fat globes, sinking the lash into them and covering them with a spider web of bleeding cuts. He sank deeper and deeper whip weals into the tits until he thought that with some more effort he could tear the tits apart. But that was for his private amusement, not for the entertainment of these drooling louts.
"Cronken, I think it is time that we took these witches into the gaol and forced them to make their peace by owning up to their crimes."
"True, we must get on with the business of cleansing their souls," Andrew said piously.
He made a few passes over their scourged bodies with his gloved hands, muttering bits of drivel in Latin.
"Now let us get on with the business at hand."
The two miserable girls were driven through the streets of the hamlet, pelted with garbage and stones, battered with switches and sticks. The gashes on Bess's succulent body proved an irresistible target to a cruel young man with big jug ears and a mop of straw colored hair who had been mocked by the two tavern whores when he had approached them in the past. He made his switch sing and dance upon the bloodied bottom, striking drops and splashes of blood from the wiggling and jiggling bottom globes as Meg helped her viciously flogged friend to walk.
They suffered much brutal beating. A stone cut open Meg's eyebrow. For Bess who had been whipped to bloody tatters it was far worse. By-the time they were hustled through the gate of the gaol and down into the foul and stinking, dungeon like cellar, Bess was ready to pass out.
"I want you two strumpets to get on with the business of signing your confession, so we can get on with the delayed witch burning. Do this for me and I will only torture you until you're half dead before the burning, rather than three quarters dead."
The girls broke down into hysterical sobbing, cowering against the wall under the madman's inhuman threat. Cronken had deliberately offered them unacceptable terms, he wanted them to hold out for a time and suffer the true penalties of hell.
"So you wish to thwart the process of justice. Well, Joseph, let us use the equipment upon them."
They had made little use of the heavy equipment they hauled upon their wagons, the apparatus of torture that always broke the spirits of the truly stubborn, along with their bodies. The two girls were bound to a rectangular block of wood that turned upon an axis. Their hands were bound to their sides, their naked breasts heaved and bounced, as they viewed the knives held in Maledon's hands.
"Now ladies, we shall see if the truth can be wrung from you."
The jailer was allowed to participate in this torture, he cranked the wheel that rotated the block of wood, the pillar of bondage, upon the axis. Around and around it went. As the girls were rotated around and around they passed close to the twin sharp razor tipped blades held steadily in Maledon's hands. He slowly advanced his hands out, closer and closer to their heaving breasts. They tried to suck in their bodies, to hold back from the probing blades which came ever closer to them.
Maledon held the blades within a fraction of an inch of Bess's bobbing tits as they passed him. Then he advanced the blades a fraction of an inch. Meg's tits came around and swept across the points of the blades. Two thin scarlet lines were left etched into the skin.
"First blood."
He drove the blades in a fraction closer. As Bess's whip torn tits were driven against the blades he moved them up and down, slicing a pair of bleeding jagged lines into her suffering tit flesh.
"Second blood."
He lowered the blades. They cut across Meg's thighs. He raised them. They cut across Bess's belly.
"Third blood and fourth blood."
He continued to brutally gash the bodies, moving the blades up and down as each body passed him helpless in its bondage to be inexorably returned to his brutality upon the next revolution.
The girls screamed and begged for mercy. The sweating jailer continued to turn them around and around, as the knife blades cut them to ribbons.
Finally the torture ended to the relief of the sweating and exhausted jailer. The girls babbled and ranted, their minds shocked and half maddened. Water thrown over their faces and brine thrown over their wounds brought them back to horrible reality.
Their bodies were brutally mauled and clawed. Maledon sank his crooked nails into their wounds, raking over and enlarging the marks of the knives upon their softness. He ripped and tore at their bodies unrelentingly, feeling his cock beginning to strain at his trousers as the excitement mounted in him. He cast a glance over at his partner, who understood his meaning and dismissed the disappointed jailer. The two wanted some time alone with the two whores.
"Now let us see if all of this has made you two strumpets lose any of your skills."
He held wide the gaping cunt, stretching out the lips of Meg. He stroked the insides of her cunt channel with hurting force, rubbing raw the tender inner coating skin. He probed and prodded the membrane, pulling and stretching the lips, flicking and slapping at the clitoris. He molded and reshaped her tits in his hands, squeezing blood from the cut lines engraved in her flesh. He yanked the nipples, twisting them up and down, revolving them in his hands, making the pain sharp and stinging.
Cronken inflicted equal discomfort upon the other girl, mauling her wounds relentlessly. He ripped and gashed the whip marks on her tits, pounded her belly, plucked out pinches of flesh along the gash marks left by the knives and ran the cut marks back and forth through his hands.
"We are doing all right, my lad. Now if we could find that slut, Jane Fraser, we would have a burning that would be a festival worth remembering."
Maledon clawed his victim's armpits, pulling off flaps of skin.
"These two are a good substitute. This will have to do after all."
They sank their pricks into the ravaged and tortured girls. They rutted around inside them, plunging in and out, back and forth with a vicious rhythm designed to hurt them yet more. They fucked and fucked, spitting into the eyes and mouths of Meg and Bess, tearing off tufts of their pubic foliage, slapping their faces, tearing at their skin. They shot their loads into the aching, weeping girls. Then they exchanged, each of them raping both girls in turn. They kept it up until they were unable to achieve another erection.
Joseph wiped the residue of cum off his cock and rubbed his hand clean of it on Meg's lips. He punched the girl in the pit of the stomach, sinking his fist into the fat, rolling belly.
"That was a pleasant ride. It's too bad that we will be putting these two mares out of the way soon. I would have enjoyed a few more days with the two of them."
"Now we have to get down to the business at hand, good fellow. We still have confessions to extract from these reluctant and stubborn bitches."
"That will not prove overly difficult." They set to on the unfortunate girls with flesh tearing pincers. Maledon grasped the nipple of Meg's right tit between the strong iron jaws of the pincers. One tong sank into a wound, splashing out the blood as it drove deep into the flesh. Then he twisted the flesh from side to side, bracing himself as he twisted it and sank the pincers deeper and deeper into the blood stained ivory meat, making the flesh collapse and strain under his onslaught. He felt the flesh gradually beginning to tear under his attack.
Spasms of white hot agony made every inch of the girl's body heave and throb. Veins stood out prominently, her flesh wiggled and writhed.
"Aaaaeeeooooiiiiiiieeeeee!"
Her horrible screams echoed through the torture chamber as Maledon with hideous inhuman cruelty tore and plucked the nipple off her breast. At last he had ripped away the bleeding orb of flesh and he held it up before the shocked face of the girl.
Cronken turned his gloating face to her companion. "Do you wish to make your confession now or do you wish some of the same to befall you?"
Her spirit crushed, the girl acquiesced and signed the statement that Cronken dictated to her.
CHAPTER FOUR
The witch burning was the greatest spectacle that the town had ever seen. Every person for miles around came to the festival. There were a few sympathetic faces out in the crowd, but only a few.
The old men went first, burned and reduced to ashes. Then it was the turn of the two tavern maids. They were dragged out of the cages they had been placed in stark naked. Their bodies were marked by the excesses of the townspeople. They had been badly beaten in the cages, but worse had befallen them in the day they resided in the stocks.
In the dead of the night the pious old women of the town had followed the rowdy young men who finger fucked and handled their bodies. The hags had burned their flesh with lighted tapers, torn the teeth from their mouths by the roots, twisted and mauled their breasts. Combs had been raked over their cunt bushes until the thick growths were literally stripped from their scratched and bleeding pelvises down to the last hairs, torn out by withered, bony hands. They had been tortured with a ferocity as great as their tortures at the hands of Maledon and Cronken.
Cronken had lurked in the shadows watching the torture with a sadistic amusement, glorying in this reduction of their ruined bodies to greater ruin.
The two broken and torn up girls who were lashed to the stakes for the burning bore little resemblance to the ripe and wild tavern wenches they had once been.
Now they were condemned witches for the burning. First came further agonies and indignations. They were whipped to drive the devils from their bodies. Whips with iron tips tore their bodies open, splashing blood from the lacerated and mangled flesh. They screamed and begged in vain.
The branding followed. The devils had to be scourged from their bodies by pain and by fire.
The branding irons seared into their breasts and bottoms. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. They were reduced to screaming, ranting, half mad creatures long before the burning began.
The actual burning was a long, slow, drawn out affair. It gave the crowd full opportunity to see the ripe and once beautiful flesh wither and blacken. The girls were burned quite slowly, for over an hour before the end came.
"A fine job once again," Maledon crowed, rubbing his hands together.
They watched the bodies reduced to ashes, and the ashes raked up, the bits of broken and scorched bone reduced to rubble.
"We gather up the loot and move on. This stop has paid us generously. We will soon be rich men. There are many places accursed with the presence of the witches."
"Sure, and we be the ones to find them. But what about Jane Fraser?"
"Notice will be posted on her as a proven witch. If she is not found, then we will simply have to accept the loss in good grace."
Cronken seethed at the loss of the tender young virgin. He had wanted to fuck and torture her to the point of madness, before humiliating her in front of the assembled village and then consigning her wretched lush body to the flames. But he would get his hands on her again somehow, he vowed it.
In the meantime, Jane Fraser healed rapidly with the aid of the loyal hunchback. She bitterly ran her hand over the brand mark on her tit, a wound that would no disappear, a lifetime scar to remember the two villains by. She would make them pay for it.
In time she had recovered with the nursing of the faithful little man. She had need of clothes, but Willie proved an adequate thief and he acquired for her the things she needed. Soon she would be able to set out for safety. From a hazardous trip into the village that Willie undertook, she found out the terrible happenings that had transpired after her escape. She vowed to take vengeance for the four that had died if she could ever get the pair of heartless murderers into her power.
She set out at last for the northern country, her destination the border area with Scotland, where Captain Benteen and his troops were engaged against the Scots. She would soon be able to match the murdering bastards with a swordsman heading a company of troops, and she would see their heads set upon pikes for the dogs to devour.
The two witchfinders were allowing no moss to settle under them. They had many villages and towns awaiting their cleansing mission. Lord William Corsgreave had sent them a letter requesting their presence to help rid his peasantry of the witches who persecuted them and infested the area. Actually, as Andrew knew, the only thing that preyed upon the peasantry was Lord Corsgreave himself. The old tyrant had ridden roughshod over the people for years. He tortured and robbed and tyrannized them to the point where they could no longer bear the treatment.
Now the witchfinder and his able assistant were being summoned to the village of Abalar to use their presence against the smoldering sparks of rebellion, to stamp the sparks out in blood and terror. It was a clever ploy, one well suited to the tyrant.
Andrew racked his brain for the stories he had heard of Lord Corsgreave's excesses of wantonness and cruelty. He wondered which were fact and which were legend.
It was said that William Corsgreave had imprisoned his first wife in an iron cage, her body bound with chains and rats introduced into the cage to gnaw and nibble away at her rounded contours. He had boiled her bottom in oil and branded her breasts with hot irons. He had walled her up alive for a finisher.
That story might be a legend, since there were many versions of the death of his first wife. But it was no legend or myth that he loved to horsewhip the young village girls and the wives and daughters of the peasants. He lashed them until they collapsed in bloody heaps and then he rubbed salt into the raw wounds.
A girl named Pamela had once rejected his ardor. She had been stripped naked in the center of the village by five of the lord's men and raped. They raped her cunt, her mouth, and her ass. They made her crawl as they whipped her soft body. The people hid in their hovels, afraid to interfere.
Pamela had been thrown across a saddle and carried off to the castle. There she was taught obedience with the lash. Lord William chained her up in his foul dungeon, forcing her to eat the vomit thrown up by the other tortured inmates of his torture chamber. The wretched girl had no choice but to mouth down the atrocious mess. Lord William whipped her for hours, until her body was a mass of bleeding striped and butchered flesh. He had pierced her breasts with needles until they bled like sieves. The girl had been unable to hold up against such horrible punishment, she cracked and became his complete body slave. When Lord William would enter a room and she was in his presence she would pull up her clothes and bend over to present her naked bottom to him, to do with as he pleased. Sometimes he caressed it, other times he lashed and spanked it.
He trained her in the arts of self-humiliation, to stand naked in a corner of a room with her ass exposed, playing with herself, letting her body become an instrument of derision and contempt.
She shoved her ass out, splitting her cheeks wide apart and showing off her asshole, shoving her fingers in and out, in and out. She turned around and showed off her hairy gash, holding the hole wide open with the lips outstretched in her fingers, letting whoever wished to play with her, to do so.
This was the man that Andrew Cronken and his partner were now on their way to see. He would obviously have rewarding and ample work for them.
It took several days to arrive at the village ruled by the iron hand of Lord Corsgreave. It took no keen eye to see from the frightened and dispirited faces of the townspeople that the stories about Lord Corsgreave were undoubtedly true. It filled Cronken with a savage satisfaction to see the terror that his arrival inspired, as soon as those who could read let the others know the meaning of the words upon his wagon. Yet, upon the frightened faces there was another look, a smug and cruel look of expectation. They knew the circus of torture that the witch-finder would provide for them. His coming was not altogether unwelcome.
A party of Lord Corsgreave's soldiers arrived to escort the two of them to the castle. They were a brutal looking lot, heavily armed and scarred from battle. The people hid behind their doors, utterly terrified by the troops.
"There should be ripe pickings here."
Cronken slapped Maledon on the back. He had the expectation of a rich harvest. As they approached the walls of the castle the air was rent by female screams, horrible bellows of pain which were familiar and welcome music to the sadistic pair. Driving into the courtyard they came upon an obscene and provocative sight. A girl had been bound to an X cross, her brutally flogged back laced with deep whip weals from which the blood poured down her legs to pool at her feet. A soldier continued to flog her back as if he intended to strip the skin from her body.
Another girl, a small chubby young blonde with long golden strands of lush hair, had been chained to the wall of the castle where she could witness the flogging and be at the mercy of the guards and soldiers who wished to play with her body. Their hands roamed at will over her fat curves.
A tall, grey haired man came out upon the balcony of the front wall. He was dressed in the rich finery of a nobleman. His features were sharp and hawkish, the face collapsing into a webwork of lines and wrinkles with the approach of old age plus the toll of a long life of obvious dissipation. There was willfulness and evil in the eyes, cruelty and avarice. This was obviously Lord Corsgreave. Andrew Cronken liked the look of the man, and the lord who had been scrutinizing the pair of torturers with equal care, obviously took to their look as well.
They were invited into the main hall by one of the servants. They passed a maid whose costume had no bottom to it, a device which left her rump sticking out for whipping and fondling. From the weals on her bottom plus the marks of strong fingertips it was obvious that she was subjected to both of these treatments.
The two malevolent conmen took in the sights of the main hall, reveling in the obvious wealth of the man. Then they turned attentively to the main staircase down which the lord made his grand entrance.
Cronken bowed deeply to the tyrant. His partner did likewise. "My lord, it does me great honor to be here and to be at your service." Corsgreave's eyes were malevolent with dark humor and cruel cunning. He motioned to the two of them to rise and come forward.
"I have heard that you are very well versed in the art of tracking down, ferreting out, and exterminating the instruments of the devil."
"I have some small talent in that area." Corsgreave looked at him sharply. "Do you believe that it is the devil's work to inspire peasants and serfs to revolt and plot against their lawfully appointed and inviolate lord, who watches over his flock with love and devotion, attending to their wants?"
"Undoubtedly the work of the devil's agents. Without a doubt, my lord."
"Is this the work of witches?"
"It is, upon my honor."
The two of them exchanged a long look, a bond of understanding in their mutual purpose. These well understood one another and intended to cooperate to the fullest.
A rich banquet followed. Naked, enslaved village girls waited upon them. They allowed their hands to rove over the whip marked bodies.
"I enjoy all of the prerogatives that a lord can allow himself," Corsgreave said.
"An excellent philosophy."
There was much use of the whip during the meal. The lord seemed to have an obsession to lash out at the body of whatever female was in nearest reach. He was obviously a man who had never denied himself the pleasures of inflicting hurts upon others.
"You must give us a list of those you suspect of being the culprits in league with the devil. We shall round up the dogs and tear the truth from them."
"That will not prove necessary. My men under my command are already rounding up the wretches for the, ah, questioning." The three evil conspirators laughed, rich sadistic laughs of full satisfaction. Andrew drove his hands into the white bottom flesh of a girl serving him fruit and pulled her down by chunks of her white globes. He caressed and explored her body, amused by the way her tits bounced as he slapped them up and down on the palms of his hands.
"Of course, all of the property of the dogs shall be confiscated," he said. "Are any of them men of means?"
"Two of them are men of means, dirty merchants with a bit of coin who think this gives them cause to provoke the people against their better. I will soon give them reason to regret this course." He looked knowingly at Cronken. "All of the confiscation shall go to you plus a rich fee as well. I want full confessions from all of them, and I want them to suffer particularly gruesome and painful ordeals."
"I shall see to it."
"I knew sir, that you could be relied upon."
A servant came to inform him that his men had returned with the captives that had been sent for.
"The pigs are here now."
"Are there any women among them?" Maledon was eager to have a young girl once more experiencing torture under his hands.
"There is Nancy Bartleett and Valerie Constance. Their fathers are the filthy merchants that I told you about. The should quickly confess to their crimes under the urgings of the devil if you put pressure upon their tender young daughters."
"An excellent plan, my lord." It was indeed an excellent plan. It was exactly what Cronken would have thought of. It was apparent that he was in the employ of a master schemer equal to himself. He contemplated the wealth that would pour into his hands as he drained his wine and practiced malice upon the body of the girl serving it to him.
After the banquet came a tour of the dungeons. It was indeed impressive. Men were locked into various racks and frames, men with long beards and haggard faces who had been suffering for extended periods.
A young maid lay stretched belly down upon a rack. Long darts had been plunged into her bottom globes, dried blood coated her bottom halves. Her back was criss-crossed with the weals of a whip.
Another young girl, a peasant girl by the look of her had been shackled to a wall by her ankles and wrists. Hot boiling oil had been poured between her breasts, the scald scar that Cronken explored ran all along the cleavage between her large tits, down her belly, and into the bush between her legs.
"I see that your methods are severe and worthy of your reputation, my lord."
Corsgreave nodded his head. "I try to keep this place lively enough. You will have no need of your apparatus with all of the equipment that I have down here. I could break an army of giants with these torture devices. I trust you will put the devices to good use."
"I will soon have the witches confessing all of their crimes. I will start in on them tomorrow. No, I will start in tonight. Why give the fools a night to rally their courage. I will start in on them fast and so break them down all of the sooner."
Cronken intended to begin with the daughters of the merchants. After a few hours in his care the fathers should be more than willing to confess to anything he cared to accuse them of. Cronken wanted the good graces of Corsgreave, the old villain could further his career with his patronage. He would soon extend his power of witchfinder far and wide, and all would come to fear him in time. As long as men believed in witchcraft, he would do well.
CHAPTER FIVE
The girls were lovely. They were well curved and luscious and thoroughly frightened.
"Sir," spoke up Valerie in a quavering voice, "our fathers are not witches and we are not either. This is a plot by the evil Lord Corsgreave to silence any opposition to his inhuman tyranny."
Cronken grinned, almost forced to break into outright laughter by her naivete. But he played it straight, giving her a stern disbelieving look.
"I find that hard to believe my child, that any could be guilty of such blasphemous cruelty.
But have you any proof, my child."
"N-no, sir. But it is the truth."
"I am sorry then that I can do nothing for you. In the meantime, let me have a look at your luscious tits."
Valerie screamed in shock, recoiling from his fierce grip on her tits, but falling down as her chains tripped her up. He pulled her to her feet, laughing at her tears. His hand lashed out back and forth across her face, drawing blood, a thin thread that leaked from the corner of her mouth.
"That will teach you to lie about your betters."
"It's no lie, and I can see now that you are in it with him, you damned villain."
Joseph Maledon came forward and seized her around the throat with both hands. He shook her the way a cat might shake a trapped mouse.
"Curb your tongue or I'll tear it out for you, by the roots."
"Enough useless discourse, let us get on with the business at hand."
They commenced the torture. The lord's torturers gave them ample assistance, trussing the two girls to a giant rack wide enough to accommodate two victims at once. Two large wooden dildos were brandished before their eyes, splintery wooden models of a male penis.
"With these objects I shall penetrate into your depths and ascertain how much intercourse you have enjoyed with the unholy one."
He made the blessing over the objects as the girls screamed for mercy. When he was ready, he shoved the wooden cocks slowly up into them, making the insertions as painful as he possibly could. The wretched girls screamed and lunged from side to side, as the objects were forced into them all of the way, twisted and rammed into their tender sheaths.
"Obviously the two witches have accommodated the devil on many occasions. How else would these objects penetrate into them so easily. A bit of a flogging as their joints are stretched might make them more cooperative." The torturers turned the cranks, extending the tender bodies out upon the harsh wooden frame of the rack. Their joints strained against sinews and ligaments as they were drawn out, screaming in anguish. The whips slashed across the strained torsos, sinking into outlined rib cages, slashing over the contours of flattened out breasts. They were treated without mercy, lashed and flogged until they passed out in a welter of blood.
Cronken examined several sets of pincers, tongs, and flesh tearing devices of assorted sizes, shapes, and functions. "Quite an extensive collection. There are many objects here that we have never used before. We should take advantage of this rare opportunity."
They tested the various devices upon the girls when they were revived. Maledon began to tear at the toenails of poor Nancy with a set of large tweezers, wrenching nails half loose in a mess of blood. Nancy screamed for pity, regretting the foolish actions of her father in giving voice to his detestation of Lord Corsgreave. She wondered if there was any way that she could survive the ordeal, escape this trap with her life. Then a surge of throbbing pain that sent lightning blasts stabbing through her body convinced her that death was the only mercy she could find, and she screamed out her pain wishing for it, praying for it as the treatment went on and on. She felt as if her toes were being torn off, and throbbing pain raced through every joint in her body. Her ligaments and sinews felt ready to tear, and fire danced upon her skin where the whips layed upon her.
Cronken heated a series of hooks to redhot intensity within a brazier of coals. He had an idea for a new method to work upon the stubborn sluts.
He used a set of tongs to handle the heated hooks. He picked one up .and brought it close to Nancy's body. Her skin recoiled from the heat radiated upon her. He pressed the point of the hook to her skin. Steam shot up from the blackening tissue, her scream rose with the spiraling smoke as the red hot hook penetrated into her flesh and was twisted around inside the white meat. She slumped into unconsciousness, the hook sticking out of her tit. When it cooled down it was plucked from her flesh. There was little bleeding, the red hot metal had cauterized and sealed the wound as it penetrated allowing little bleeding to occur.
"You see the things we can do to you."
Valerie was still awake and it was her turn to suffer further agony. Her nipples were trapped within the grasp of a pair of nipples screws. As the small cranks were turned the openings contracted, thrusting her bunched up egg shaped nipples through the openings. Her nipples were elongated and twisted, wrenched and crushed. Slowly the pressure built up until the nipples spurted blood from the tips, a scarlet milk squeezed out of the tits by inhuman torture.
Maledon plucked tufts of hair from the cunts of the two girls. He went on in this way for some time, tearing the hair out until he had virtually plucked bald patches into the pubic bushes.
"These girls are too much the devil's creatures to own up to their master. We shall have to use more persuasive means to bring the light of truth to them."
Splinters were thrust into their bodies. Under the nails, along the underside curves of the breasts, into their armpits and ringing their cunt lips and ass holes. The torture went on for a long time, bloody and grisly.
Lord Corsgreave declined to witness the mayhem. He had his own program of carnage that he wished to unleash upon his unfortunate third wife, Elizabeth.
Elizabeth cowered in her room, trying to break free of the chains binding her. She knew that she was in for a terrible time. She cursed the day her evil father had contracted her marriage to the corrupt and degenerate Lord William.
Her life had been a nightmare of torture and degradation. It was not uncommon for Lord William to expose her to the eyes of his friends, pulling up her gown to reveal her naked cunt to them, then inviting them to personally inspect her body with hands and mouths. They always accepted this offer.
He took delight in flogging her before his friends. He would flog her ass raw with leather straps, pounding every inch of her bottom to a deep hue of red.
Elizabeth had made the error of attempting to get a message to the enemies of Lord Corsgreave, informing them of the lord's plans for their destruction. The maid she had sent with the message had been intercepted. She had ended up in the dungeon, her bottom seared and roasted above a pan of red hot coals.
Lord Corsgreave had whipped his wife on her cunt, twenty lashes across the tender mound. He had spaced out the blows, taking his time and prolonging her suffering to the greatest possible degree. At last she had collapsed into coma, her cunt lips nicked and gashed from the strokes of the whip.
"Just wait, you faithless bitch. I shall teach you the price of treachery."
She waited fearfully for his return, bound and helpless. The madman was capable of any atrocity or mad act, even of killing her. There were stories that he had slaughtered his first and second wives. Only a subhuman wretch such as her father would have given her over to an animal such as William Corsgreave.
The door to her chamber opened and he entered. He was dressed in a long black robe, a whip clasped in each hand. His face was stern and vicious, the delight of the things he intended to do to her quite evident on his face.
"You have been a disloyal little jade, Elizabeth. You know that disloyalty is the one fault I will not countenance or forgive. Have you anything to say for yourself before I punish you for this?"
"My husband, I--aaarrrggg!"
The whip in his right hand struck out and cut her tits. "I have just changed my mind about allowing you to speak a word in your own defense. Sorry about that little misunderstanding."
A strange look came over his face. He opened his robe and patted his cock. "This is an unfortunate moment to need to relieve myself. There's no pot in this room either, and I would hate to leave my darling wife alone even for a few moments. But that won't be necessary. Open your mouth, my dear."
"No, no, not that."
The whip in his right hand cracked over the contours of her breasts. Blood spurted from long, thin cuts. He flogged her again, slashing a diagonal stripe along her midsection. "Open your mouth."
Tears poured from her eyes. She moaned in anguish, thinking that at least he probably did not intend killing her. Only once before had he done this hideous thing to her. But she had to bear it, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her break. Perhaps he would think this punishment sufficient to repay her treachery.
She opened her mouth. William pressed his cock to her lips and shoved it into her mouth. The contact of her moist mouth and warm lips fired up his weapon, and it immediately hardened in her mouth. He pulled it out and patted it with his hand, emptying his mind of lust to let it slacken and wither. "Do not be impatient old fellow. First the hot nectar down her throat. Later we can fuck the bitch."
He put his prick into her mouth again, careful to avoid another erection. When it was well thrust into her throat he bore down and squirted his piss down into her. It filled her mouth and poured down her throat, hot and thick.
"That was not so terrible, was it my dear?" Her face was pasty white and she clutched at her middle, doubling up and fighting to keep from vomiting.
"You had better hold that down," he informed her gravely, "or else you shall have to lap it up off of the floor." He gave her a slice over the breadth of her rump with the whip. To his delight he cut a long stripe over the width of both cheeks. Blood dripped from the cut in several places. He criss-crossed the welt with five others, ripping up her soft ass.
"Get on your knees and stick your arse up into the air. Present it to me for the punishment. And look pleased, I want you to smile as I cut your whore's body to pieces."
She managed to totter onto her knees. She thrust her bottom up, wiggling it and holding her ass cheeks parted wide for the probe and cut of his whip. She looked at him with a plea in her tear drenched eyes, but he smiled at her with his ghastly pitiless smile and her heart sank.
He began a long, slow, and thorough flogging of her entire body. He cut her back up from neck to waist for a start. She smiled throughout the grisly ordeal, although constant screams and groans were wrung from her mouth and the wetness continued to pour from her eyes.
He sliced her ass up after he finished lacerating her back. He whipped her rump until it was coated with a thick layer of blood. He continued to whip her body, going down her thighs, slashing cuts all along her legs down to her calves.
After that it was necessary to revive her for further punishment on the front of her body. He cut up her tits until the scarlet threads running out of her wounds leaked down to the thick tangle of hair covering her mound. He whipped her belly, making her sway and tremble upon her knees as she dripped blood from scores of screaming, pain throbbing lacerated wounds. He finished with a series of slashes over her rump that rendered her unconscious again.
"And now my dear, I shall exercise my rights as a husband upon you."
He dragged her to the bed by her feet. Her body left a trail of blood behind it as he dragged her. He sprawled her across the bed face down, removing her chains. He kissed and licked the many wounds that covered her soft body. He sucked the rich blood from her whip scored carcass and then spread wide her buttocks and pressed his cock against the closed gateway of her sex.
As he fucked her, the rape brought her around to consciousness once again. She groaned and buried her face in the sheets. He slapped her back and forth across her head. "Dirty bitch. Now that you are awake I want you to put some life into this dead fucking I'm giving you. Move your ass, shake that fat rump. And press my cock between the walls of your foul cunt."
She obeyed his commands, totally terrorized by his brutal inhumanity. She realized that she could have been in worse straits. She wondered what horrors were befalling the poor victims down in her husband's dungeons.
The two girls undergoing mayhem and rape in the dungeon would willingly have traded places with her, for their ordeals were far worse.
Cronken seated Nancy upon a spiked board, the narrow one inch thick board slicing up into her wide gaping mass of cunt lip tissue and into her crotch, the spikes drilling deep into the soft tenderness of the screaming girl's body.
"You rotten little trollop, confess to your machinations with the infernal devil."
A white hot needle was plunged into her left armpit. She bit into her tongue so deeply that blood poured out of her mouth.
"Gag the poor child, lest she bite her own tongue off," Andrew piously ordered his partner.
The girl was gagged with a metal plate thrust into her mouth and locked in place with a crank and handle device that crushed the plate deep into her mouth, grinding upon her jaw as the screw was turned until it seemed her jaw would be shattered to pieces. Blood poured down her throat and her eyes rolled unseeing in their sockets. The pain blanketed her mind, shutting off all else. She could no longer see or hear the violent torturers who posed questions to her.
"Release the bitch from that jaw breaking thing. She is too far under to even know where she is. " There was still Valerie. They strapped her down to a round stone table, spikes digging into the small of her back. They pressed a funnel between her lips, and began to slowly pour water into her mouth, swirling pint after pint of the foul tasting and filthy water down into her guts.
"Make a motion with your hands when you wish to begin telling us of how your father made a pact with the devil. Clasp and open your hand three times. Until you do that, for the good of your soul we must continue to purify you with this blessed water."
Cronken the hypocrite made passes over her body with a cross, muttering incantations he made up as he went along in a babbling nonsense mixture of Latin and doubletalk.
The girl's midriff began to fill out and enlarge as the water bloated her out. She swelled up, and began to leak fluid out of her piss hole. But it did not pour out of her as fast as it poured into her.
"More water, it does not seem to be affecting her conscience as it should."
They filled her to overflowing with water, poured gallon after gallon into her. Her guts were swollen out as tight as a drum. She looked nine months pregnant as her middle exploded to hold in the great mass of gallons of water. A bit slowly seeped out of her, but not fast enough.
"Now let us empty out the bitch."
They pounded upon her expanded belly with the flats of their hands, pounding until the water began to spurt and gush out of her mouth. More and more violently they smashed their hands into her flesh. And as the quarts of water fountained out of her mouth, her hands moved spasmodically in a gesture of surrender to their demands.
In the days that followed Cronken and Maledon successfully broke down all of the accused.
CHAPTER SIX
The final confessions to witchcraft were taken. The last of the recalcitrant were broken. It was decided to spare the two beautiful young girls, they would make excellent sex slaves. Lord Corsgreave had already taught Nancy and Valerie to entertain him in the performance of sex shows with one another. The French game of sixty-nine was his favorite such diversion.
He sentenced the others to die by fire and flogging. They readily confessed their crimes before the assembled population of villagers and peasants. To the superstitious people it seemed that there must be a grain of truth after all in the accusations, otherwise why would the men confess to crimes of blasphemy and devil worship? In a master stroke Lord Corsgreave promised to share out a portion of the confiscated property of the witches among the people. He did not tell them that it was a mere pittance, but the effect was achieved. While he could not reduce their well based hatred of his tyranny and mad cruelty he had broken the back of the resistance to his reign. They would not soon be stirring against him again.
The six men condemned to die were brought to the square to receive the sentence of death. They were prodded along with lash and club. Blows cut their bodies to pieces, and even worse was the participation of the crowd in it. The people pelted them with stones, threw shit and filth upon them from roofs and windows, pounded them with sticks and scourged them with straps and strips of leather.
In the square they were lashed front and back. They were whipped and whipped until strips of skin hung down from their backs and chests. Brine was poured over their wounds and the whipping continued for several hours. They were slashed to bloody pulps by the time the sentence was completed. They were dazed, senseless, half dead. Nevertheless they were tied to the posts, each man and the faggots piled about them. The crowd eagerly anticipated the burning.
Nancy and Valerie were brought forth. They had escaped the death by burning but the crowd would see their shapely bodies dance under the lash of the whips. Blows were rained upon them until their flesh was gashed and lacerated in scores of places. When the whipping ended they slumped forward half conscious as filth was thrown at them. One of the lord's men picked up a handful of shit and rubbed it across their faces, smearing it into their mouths and noses, they were hustled away, with people trying to get close enough to lash out at them.
It was time for the climax of the festivities. The poor unfortunate accused were set afire, their screams soon drowning out and subsiding as the flames overwhelmed them. Count Corsgreave rubbed his hands together, watching his triumph from inside his coach. His sobbing, sickened wife by his side was forced to view the horror as well.
"What's the matter Elizabeth, have you too soft a stomach for this?"
His hand ripped open the bodice of her gown and he plunged his hands in down to her cunt which he mauled and handled much to her distress.
"You know how these displays of squeamishness sicken and oppress me. I shall teach you a well deserved lesson back at the castle tonight."
Jane Fraser in the meantime had made her way north to the Scotch border. It had not been an easy journey since fleeing from her native territory. Travel was unsafe in those days, especially for a woman traveling alone. She had no money and lived by her wits, hiding by day and moving by night. She stole food from the fields, terrified of being discovered by anyone. There was nobody she could trust, and she did not cease this cautious behavior until she was well clear of the south of England.
Falling in with a military unit she was given directions and an escort to take her to her captain. After a long and arduous journey the end was in sight. Two days later she was in the main camp of the army that campaigned against the Scotch forces.
William was surprised and delighted to see her, until they were alone and the bitterly crying girl told him the shocking story of what had been done to her. She tore open her dress and revealed to him the terrible brand wound on her breast.
"My God!"
"And after I escaped they killed four innocent people. They took the two tavern girls, Bess and Meg, and burned them alive simply to have a good spectacle for the people. They were all innocent."
She collapsed into his arms. He put her to bed. She would require careful tending and much love. But she would heal up. Then the captain would look for Cronken the witchfinder and Maledon the torturer. They would die in ways that would satisfy the vast blood debt that they owed.
Lady Elizabeth would have welcomed the attentions of a rescuer herself that night at the castle of her sadistic husband. He strung her up naked by the thumbs in the hall above the banquet table, allowing the carousers and the orgiasts to run their foul hands over her threshing legs and to thrust their fingers and tongues into her abused gash.
"Go ahead and take your pleasure with her. The bitch is nothing but my wife after all. And a wife can always be replaced with a younger and fresher one."
Lord Corsgreave lashed out, coiling the whip around her waist. He yanked at her, putting a cruel burden upon her strained thumbs.
"Enjoy yourselves, my friends. Take your pleasures while you may."
Maledon was sampling the body of Pamela. He plucked and fingered her cunt as she pressed grapes between his lips with her mouth. It was certainly the way to live. He reached around to finger her asshole. He twisted and wrenched her nipples and pulled at her tits, making them bounce and jiggle upon the tips of his fingers. Cronken pounded nails into the ass of a blond-haired peasant girl turned over to the lord in lieu of the taxes her father could not pay. He hammered the nails all of the way into her fat ass cakes, making the blood spurt. He cared not that the fluid stained his trousers, the lord had promised him a new wardrobe. When he was certain that the pain was quite unbearable to the girl he rolled her over and took her. He rode up and down upon the flailing trapped body, amused by her feeble attempts to throw him off.
"Be more mannerly wench, or I shall complain to my lord about it."
That broke her resistance, she dared not allow such a thing to happen. Biting into her lips with her ass punctured with nails she gave a good humping to the fiendish witchfinder. She hoped that the bastard would contract leprosy, the plague, and the pox. She could feel the blood streaming out of the deep and wide punctures in her poor bottom.
The unrestrained orgy went on for a long time. The women were savagely flogged without mercy, until blood and gore were everywhere. The corrupt Lord Corsgreave auctioned off his own wife as a common whore for the night. Cronken purchased her charms and flung her down across the banquet table. He shoved his hand up her cunt, trying to force all five of his fingers together into the stubborn chamber. Maledon shoved a greasy chicken bone up her ass, making her kick and squeal.
"Find your own, Joseph, this one is mine for the evening. Leave off."
Cursing his partner's greed Joseph was forced to settle for a young and innocent girl who was the daughter of a peasant in debt to the lord. Maledon threw her down on her belly and pressed the blade of his dirk to her bottom.
"One sound out of you, my pretty, and I'll slit your tits off."
The terrified girl bit into her arm to muffle her cries of terror. Maledon poked and prodded her bottom with the blade, cutting up the soft rump.
"A nice ass you have, beautiful. What a pleasure it is to carve it up, slut."
He carved his initials into her rump in thin lines of blood. He criss-crossed gashes along her bottom, horizontal and vertical lines that ran together in a sickening welter of blood.
"His lordship is most generous. I don't want to ruin a fine piece of goods for him."
Maledon threw the girl down on her back and shoved his rampant erect cock into her in one violent movement which broke her upon pain and humiliation. He played with her bleeding wounds as he took her, sucking the sweat juice from off of her sweat covered skin.
Cronken took Lady Elizabeth. It was more than he had ever hoped for, to have a noblewoman in his hands, under his power. The lord had told him to do whatever he pleased with her, had encouraged Andrew to have his will.
First Andrew put his cock into her mouth, forcing her to take it in all the way back in her throat. She was shocked, her eyes clouded over with disbelief and fear. Andrew pounded away inside her mouth, slapping her in the face. Then he rolled her over and shoved it up her ass, thrilling to the crush of the tight and warm tunnel upon his cock. This was the best of all, to ram it up the ass of a lady. He fucked away, pulling back almost to the point of exiting, until the head alone was wedged inside her. Then he lunged forward shoving it all the way into her ravaged insides. It was the most thrilling fuck he had ever experienced. He put his fingers inside her mouth making her gag. He grasped her breasts and pulled them wide apart, then rubbed them hard together.
As he came a spasm shot through the body of the lady who collapsed into unconsciousness. Andrew did not mind, he had her for the rest of the night and there were many things that he intended doing with her.
Lord Corsgreave felt keen satisfaction at the degradation of his haughty wife. This would truly repay her treachery to him. Besides, the bitch was becoming tiresome. He had rid himself of two wives already, and a third could follow the first two.
As he whipped the ass of one of the maids he wondered how he could rid himself of the bitch. Perhaps he could place her bound and chained in a pit and let her slowly starve. That was sufficiently cruel, but it was too dull. Perhaps as an alternative he could put hungry rats into the pit with his hungry wife and see who would be the devoured, and who would be the fed. There was no doubt in his mind over the outcome. He left the wild orgy and went off to his room. A burly servant bore a pair of whipped unconscious maidens over his shoulders. They would suffice the lord for the remainder of the night.
In the following weeks the two witchfinders stayed on enjoying the hospitality of the lord. They were delighted with this leisurely holiday, enjoying all of the comforts that wealth could bring.
Corsgreave proved an admirable host. He treated his guests to exhibitions of brutality that impressed even that hardened pair.
He would tie a pair of girls together, their naked flesh mashed into a ball as arms and legs were twisted together and intertwined with chains and cords. Spiked balls were stuffed into their mouths, the blood pouring out of their mouths and down their chins when the torture was applied to them making their mouths clutch and grind upon the spiked iron spheres.
Chains rose and fell, mutilating flesh. They were whipped with the chains until the raw bleeding flesh showed through their torn skin.
Salt and pepper rubbed into their lacerations sent them into spasmodic convulsions. They were hung from hooks in the ceiling of the torture chamber and swung to and fro, a pendulum of swinging pain. Whips crashed into them, coiling around the interlocked pair, striking fresh anguish into them, pain without cessation or end.
The two witch slayers were allowed full use of the dungeons. They practiced their arts upon the prisoners down there. They bound an old merchant who had angered Corsgreave to a spiked chair. As the spikes sank into his body they added weights of iron and stone to the mass of his fat body. The weight bore his flesh down upon the waiting spikes, sinking them deeper and deeper into his body.
Nancy and Valerie were most often the victims of the two villains. They were permitted total freedom with the bodies of the condemned girls. Ever the hypocrite, Andrew constantly reminded them in his most pious tones that it was thanks to his mercy that they still lived. They were aware that the stake could still be their fate any time their captors so chose.
Nancy and Valerie were set to fighting one another. They were forced to battle with strips of leather wrapped around their fists. They were squared off upon the castle green before an assembled throng and flogged with whips until they closed upon one another in bloody carnage.
The leather muffled their blows but cut the skin. As they rained clumsy pounding punches upon one another the marks began to accumulate. Nancy's nose broke and three of Valerie's teeth were battered out. The battle eventually faded out with the collapse of the blood stained pair.
It was a form of amusement that Lord Corsgreave had not thought up, a torture that he had overlooked. He set his prisoners to fighting one another in bloody carnage and mayhem. The males fought it out with chains wrapped around their arms. There was usually a survivor rather than a winner, and often there was not even a survivor. Chains ripped and mangled tortured flesh.
Maledon became a favorite of the lord. William Corsgreave was impressed by the dedication of the man to torture, his total application to it when working upon his prey, his perfect form and inventiveness. At times they would go off together into the woods of the lord's estate with a girl or two and the lord would be entertained by the torturer's creative style.
Cronken began to fret over the delay in setting out upon further work. There were more witchfinders infesting the land with each passing day. They would be done out of business by all of this competition if they did not return to their rounds.
But the castle was beguiling. The chance to torture and maim to their heart's content without interference. They continued to stay on, whipping and branding, fucking and sucking.
Maledon trained Nancy and Valerie to clean ass with their tongues. It was his favorite style of malevolence, the complete humiliation of his victims. He often introduced shit eating, under Andrew's direction, to the accused. Valerie was easier to train of the two, but neither had the resistance to stand up to his demands upon them.
"Look my lord, how readily they obey commands."
Maledon showed off the training of the girls to Corsgreave. He snapped his fingers and the two of them ran about the room on all fours as if they were dogs. He snapped his fingers and pointed to Nancy's bottom. Instantly Nancy thrust out her ass and wiggled it while Valerie pressed her face to the bottom and shoved her tongue up the ass, to lick and clean it out.
"You have them very well trained. I think it would be an excellent idea to take these two out for a stroll in the woods and see the games that they shall play for us."
Lord Corsgreave and Maledon set off with the two girls in tow. When they reached a good spot they would torture the two to the limits of their endurance. As they walked along they struck and smacked the bottoms of the girls.
"Would you consider taking on the post of master of my dungeons?" Lord Corsgreave asked.
"It sounds interesting but I think that I shall stick with the position that I have. The money is good, I see much of the countryside, and there are no limitations on the things that I can do."
"Suit yourself. But someday you will accuse the wrong person under the wrong conditions. At such a time you yourself might come to an interesting and bloody end."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Maledon staked the shrieking Valerie out under a clump of trees where he could benefit from the shade as he tortured her. Lord Corsgreave looked on in approval, sipping his wine while his hand stroked Nancy's tits and he enjoyed the spectacle that the torturer provided.
"Do you need any equipment or apparatus to work upon the slut?"
"Thank you, your grace, but I can use the materials at hand upon her."
Maledon thrust his hand between her legs, running the rich growth of pubic hair through his hands. He plucked out a few curly strands and blew them across the girl's face. He mashed his mouth down upon hers, holding her head between his strong hands so that she could not escape from his kiss. He dribbled and churned his saliva into her mouth, making her suffer with his brutal hands wandering freely over her flesh.
When he had amused himself obscenely fondling her body he was ready to begin the serious business of torture. He picked up a small smooth stone, flipping it about in his hand. He ground the stone into her ribcage, bearing down until he grated upon the resistance of bone through her flesh and then grinding up and down upon the length of her rib. He used the stone in this manner to apply pressure and bruising to all of her ribs, one by one. He left the flesh over her ribcage black and blue from the torture.
"With a larger rock I could break her ribs one by one simply by rubbing them in this way."
But the torture was too tame. He punched and clawed for a time at the bruises upon her battered ribs. He tore at her cunt as he did so, snapping his fingers in and out of her, rubbing her clitoris raw, making her suffer. He pulled out strands and tangled tufts of her ample hair bush.
Then he shoved the stone up her ass. He probed open the passage and shoved it in, all of the way up into her. He then shoved another rock, a slightly larger one into her. Her body twisted from side to side in her extremity of suffering as she fought against the bonds that held her fast.
Lord Corsgreave twisted Nancy's nipples in his hands, amused by the tremors that ran through her body as she was forced to be an unwilling onlooker to the spectacle of punishment.
"Be a good slut, you little wench, otherwise I shall turn you over to him for that and worse."
She pressed her mouth to his groin, tracing the outline of his cock and balls with her mouth through his trousers. He whipped desultorily at her ass, slashing streaks of blood upon the shapely mounds as she opened up his trousers and applied her mouth to his cock. Lord William leaned back and sipped his wine, watching the torture of the trapped Valerie.
The rocks were wedged up her bloodied, spasming ass tunnel. As she reared and threshed about, the cruel Maledon shoved handfuls of grass into her mouth, twisting clumps of grass and dirt into her choking mouth and then pulling them out.
He spanked her breasts, slapping the globes from side to side. Back and forth his hands sped, slowly pounding the rounded bobbing tits crimson and then scarlet. She experienced excruciating pain as the beating went on and on.
Maledon rubbed sharp edged stones into her armpits. He scratched the skin bloody and then abraded it until it was torn to shreds. He kept it up, grinding stones into her bones, into the joints of the elbows and wrists and knees and ankles. He stood up and walked upon the girl, stepping upon her tender boobs and grinding his boots into her flesh, stomping upon her soft, supple belly. Up and down he jumped on her, bouncing up and down on her bruised belly. He crushed her hands and feet under his heels, stamping down upon individual toes and fingers, stomping and grinding.
Corsgreave put Nancy across his lap and vigorously spanked her bottom globes. The trembling flesh bounced and heaved under the assault of his hands. His rings nicked and gashed her ass skin. He split her bottom halves wide apart exposing her ass hole which he probed with his fingers one by one. He continued to pound her discolored bottom as he did so, and then he began to stroke and enflame her cunt, rubbing his fingers between her lips, splitting the cunt lips wide apart and then shoving his fingers in and out, in and out of her rapidly and brutally.
Maledon shoved rocks into the wide open and exposed cunt of Valerie, shocking her back to full wakefulness.
After the pleasant task of filling her large crevasse with rocks came the equally pleasant duty of tearing them out of her. Following that he was ready to rape her. He played at the gateway for a time before plunging all of the way deep into her.
Lord William felt himself heating up as he enjoyed the show. He put Nancy's unfortunate mouth to work again for his pleasure, making the pathetic girl take into her mouth all of the cock that she could hold down in her throat.
Maledon raped the bound girl, shoving his thing all of the way into her, dreaming of burning and whipping her to increase the force of his ardor. The grinding away inside the girl's ass hole of the rocks he had shoved up into her increased her own efforts, although her movements were spurred on by agony rather than by passion.
He laughed at her misery, her face twisted and contorted in anguish as she bit her own mouth bloody under the grating sting of the rocks grinding to gravel inside her bloodied ass hole.
Maledon soon finished with her. He took his thing out of her tortured body and wiped it clean on her mouth. She had not been too bad, he would welcome a return fuck with the girl if Lord Corsgreave would grant it.
Maledon felt a bit uncomfortable, putting on such a display for the entertainment of the jaded old nobleman. Usually it was for his benefit that such a performance would take place, and he would call the tune. In a way, he was slightly in the power of Corsgreave, who was the law of the land in the small segment of kingdom that he ruled with an iron hand.
As these villains were prospering things had taken a turn for the better for Jane Fraser. As she waited out the end of the campaign against the Scots she practiced the art of the sword in her idle time. It was a ridiculous concept to the captain, her lover, that she could ever acquire a real knowledge and skill with the weapon. But the things that had happened to her had changed her from the meek and tender young virgin into a raging fury, and she practiced with the weapon night and day. She also learned the art of the pistol, and soon could kill a man at the maximum range that she could reach with the weapon.
"You are turning into quite a she-devil," Ben-teen commented to her as they romped together in bed.
"I've had good reason for it, never forget. I want to see the faces of those two dogs when I put bullets through their balls."
Benteen shuddered and lost his erection. Jane looked in dismay at the retreating, shriveling organ.
"Never talk about a subject such as that when we are in bed together. You've scared the manhood quite out of me. It's well frightened."
"I am sorry. I shall coax the fellow out again."
Saying this she put her mouth to the cock and commenced a gentle sucking that became wilder and wilder as her head bobbed back and forth and she cupped her hand under the balls and caressed them. Soon she was sucking upon a hot and hard phallus which she kept on sucking until it shot its heavy load down her throat. She gargled with the hot come and drank it down with a self-satisfied grin on her face. The captain marvelled at the changes in her in so many ways. She was now the wildest wanton whore he had ever come across. He was not sure if he preferred her this way more than he missed the kind and gentle girl that was apparently gone away forever.
"How much longer before this campaign will be over and we can search out those bastards."
"If I knew such a thing, my darling, I would be a general instead of a captain."
She slapped him harshly across the rump. "Surely the presence of one more captain makes little difference to this war. Why not take leave from this army and go with me to hunt down the witchfinder. You could take a few men with you, and we could leave tomorrow."
He shrugged his shoulders, playing with his hands through the fleece of her cunt bush as they talked.
"I cannot get leave. I have already requested it and it has been denied. The colonel advised me to forget this notion of vengeance. He told me that Cronken is a powerful man, and the authorities back the activities of the witch hunters. As long as this mania over the alleged activities of witches continues then those such as Cronken and his ilk will prosper. He says that if I go after him I might find myself up against whatever law backs the villain at the time."
Jane rolled off of the bed. She stood there glaring down at him.
"It is apparent to me now, that you have deceived me. You have no intention of going after that dog, you snivelling coward. You are afraid to hunt down the witchfinder, afraid that you will actually find and confront him. And so you put me off and amuse my fancies by teaching me the use of sword and pistol, knowing all the time that you will never give me aid in my vengeance."
The captain flushed in rage. "You do me wrong, Jane. When this campaign is over we shall go after them."
"Lying bastard."
She seized his riding crop and lashed him across the chest cutting a long red gash into his flesh. Shocked by the unexpected action he came close to losing an eye when the next wild blow crashed across his brow, cutting a deep diagonal furrow through it. With blood pouring into his eye he lunged at the enraged fury who backed off slashing his chest and belly with the whip.
He rushed in and wrenched it away from her. She stepped in fast and kneed him in the balls. As he doubled up clutching at his groin she dug both hands into his face and raked his cheeks bloody.
"You dirty evil little bitch."
He threw her across his knee and rained blows upon her churning, twisting, joggling bottom with the whip, etching dozens of crisscrossing bloody stripes into the cheeks of her behind. As he whipped her she had orgasms and climaxes, making loud excited shouts and raising her tail into the air to better receive the caress of the lash. She moved and snaked around on his lap, going wild with excitement. In disgust he threw her down.
"You sick, perverted wench. You nearly put out me eye." He clutched the cut in his brow between his fingers trying to staunch the flow of blood.
"Coward," she snarled. "Good only for whipping the ass of a helpless girl."
"There is nothing helpless about you. And do not try to tell me that you did not enjoy your bottom tanning. You enjoyed it so well that I want nothing more to do with you. The girl that I loved is apparently lost to me. You are but some loathsome stranger who inhabits her body."
"If I am different it is because of the horrors that have been committed upon me. Instead of helping you have only excuses and delays to offer me. Well, let us be rid of one another, for I do not need your help and you apparently do not enjoy any more the presence of my company."
In the morning when the captain returned from a visit to the surgeon who had many obscene remarks to make on the strange nature of the captain's facial wounds, she was gone. Only a hastily scribbled note told the captain that she had gone off on her own to seek her vengeance. Cursing his foolishness and hers, the captain obtained leave from the colonel after a long argument and set out after her.
Jane rode for several days, armed with sword and pistols, her saddle bags loaded with provisions and gold under her belt. She was well equipped for her vengeance. She knew not how or where to begin, but she would not rest until she found the bastard. As she made her way south, she found that it thrilled her to be a dangerous person, to be armed and desperate and quite ready to kill. She knew then the forbidden appeal of violence.
After a few days of vain searchings and inquiries she decided to head back for her own home village. She would skirt it carefully and find the information she wanted in the neighboring village of Wallonset. She was taking a risk but she could not wait forever to find the bastards.
Always a day or two behind her with false starts and losses of her trail, Captain Benteen riding with three of his men wondered if he would ever catch up to her. If teaching her to shoot and fence was a mistake, it was sheer folly to teach her to ride.
Jane kept on traveling steadily and eventually wound up at the village of Wallonset. She strode into the tavern, noting with a sneer the way they scurried out of her path. The pigs had heard the tales that she was an escaped witch, they feared that she might cast a spell upon them. Or perhaps it was the pistol in her belt.
She sat at a table, letting a few of the frightened fools drinking in a corner have a look at her long legs. She had garbed herself as a slut, with long bowed and buttoned boots reaching up to her thighs. Her flaring silken skirts were slit up to her hip, letting everyone see that she was naked under the skirt. A sheath containing a long dagger caressed her bare thigh and her sword was on her other hip.' Two pistols were thrust through her belt. She wore a plumed hat and her blouse was open so low that when she leaned forward slightly her nipples showed. This was the way she wanted it, to make others fear her and lust for her. To be a vision of death and beauty and let the bastard world know that she was no longer a victim, but a force to be reckoned with. Three burly, ugly men entered the tavern, swaggering and bold, bad characters letting her know that they were out for her skin. Two of them were from her village, and she remembered their hands upon her body when she had been in the stocks, the obscenity of their foul mouths. They were louts, pieces of shit who got by without working. They were too lazy to steal, they begged and bullied to earn their way.
"Slut, there be ten pieces of gold on your arse, and we intend to collect it. While we're taking you in to be burned as the witch you are, we shall have some sport with your ass. We'll show you, witch, how to fuck with a normal man rather than demon or warlock."
The pock faced, short and heavyset ape who made this speech shook a club at her. An evil grin spread across his face. Jane snickered. Apparently they were as little afraid of her supposed witchcraft as they were fearful of her arsenal of weapons. It was the contempt that any strong man felt for the power of a woman. They did not expect that she could stand against them even if she held weapons in her hands.
Jane stood up and pulled out her pistols. The weapons were as unreliable as the pistols of that time usually were. Although she had pre-loaded them the wadding had fallen out of one and it failed to fire. The other tore a large and ugly hole in the shoulder of the leader of the three.
"Get the witch!"
The three sprang forward, with several of the others trying to decide whether or not to join in and ready if the battle went against her. Jane whipped out her dagger and threw it into the stomach of the tallest of the three. He screamed as he reeled, tottered, and fell. Shocked, the other two hesitated. Jane calmly stepped forward drawing her sword. With a cruel laugh she pulled her skirt open to reveal her cunt to the two frightened and flabbergasted men.
"Do you want a taste of this?"
They stared at her, the clubs trembling in their hands. Water ran down the pants of the wounded leader, as he pissed inside his pants with fear. Jane lunged forward and ran her blade into the heart of the other assailant. She yanked it out in one clean motion and then rapped upon the knuckles of the trembling coward with the pistol ball through his shoulder. "Drop your weapon. Drop it or die."
He dropped his club, his eyes filled with tears. The other cowards in the room shrank back against the wall. Jane was in complete control, and she began to take her vengeance.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jane had the dog stripped naked by two of the cowering men trying to hide under a table. The poor wretch quivered and shook until the shit dropped out of him. Jane gave him an ugly look that turned the little remainder of his manhood to jelly.
"Fear me, do you? Well, you have good cause to fear me. I remember the way you treated me on that black and awful day. I also remember the threats you just made."
"I--I--I d-d-d-din't mean it."
Jane smiled at him. She reached out with the point of her blade and probed the ragged hole in his shoulder.
" Ai ieeeeeeeaaaa. "
"Do you know where the witchfinder might be?"
"I--I heard that he may be on the lands of Lord Corsgreave, but I know not if this be true or not."
Jane showed the dog her cunt again. "If you lie to me you will have no further need of this. You will have nothing to put into such a thing."
He got down on his knees wringing his hands. "I speak the truth. Mercy, mercy."
"If you want to live put your face into your own shit and eat it, every speck of it. Rub it into your nose, into your eyes. Eat it and wallow in it."
The craven dog did as she told him. Jane laughed and laughed watching the degradation so richly deserved. She poked the tip of her sword into the flesh of his scabby ass a few times, drawing a couple of blood lines across his bottom.
He stood up, his face smeared with shit, the stuff dripping from his nose and mouth.
"Have any of you others heard that the witchfinder may be in the territory of Lord Corsgreave?"
A few frightened heads nodded assent. They were too terrified of her not to tell her the truth. They had never heard of such a thing, a woman using weapons that way. To their minds it was quite obvious that she was a witch and a very dangerous one.
She forced the lout to walk out of the door ahead of her. As he stepped through the doorway she shoved the blade of her sword into his ass all the way to the bone. He screamed and lunged forward, to fall on his face in a puddle of stinking mud in which dog, pig, and human shit floated.
"I am leaving this place. Anyone who informs that I have been here to my village, or tries to follow me, or has any hope of collecting the gold offered for me shall die."
As she passed the wounded man clutching at his shoulder and ass she jabbed the sword point through his eye into his brain. He slumped over dead.
"I never said anything about not killing you when I made that promise not to geld you." She showed the frightened townspeople her ass as she mounted her steed and rode off. They would dream of her that night coming for them on a broomstick with sword in hand. The mad and stupid fools.
She had what she wanted. She knew the direction in which to go. But this was now serious business. She was riding into the domain of a ruthless nobleman who had an armed legion at his command. She could not bluff and slaughter soldiers as easily as she had wiped out these three bastards.
But at least now she knew that she could kill. And how easy it had been, how pleasurable. Yes, that was what she felt, sheer pleasure. There was no guilt, why should she feel guilty over killing three pieces of living shit.
She knew not how she was going to get to the animal. She had not yet acquired the capacity for plotting and planning that marked the military mind. A little skill with sword and pistol would not gain her vengeance. She wished that her captain was there with her.
After missing her in many places Captain Benteen and his men decided that the only sensible course was to find the witch hunter. If they could locate him then Jane Fraser would show up sooner or later.
Both Jane and the captain worried over matters that were not as ill fated as they seemed. After a stay of many weeks in the castle of Lord Corsgreave the witchfinder and his partner could detect that their welcome was wearing thin. In any case, it was time to be off to hunt for fresh prey.
The two took their leave, treated to a display of whipping upon the naked backs and bottoms of a dozen girls including Lady Elizabeth.
Lord William clapped Andrew upon the back. "So long, good fellow. You did an excellent job in ridding us of the plague of the witches. If we are ever again in need of such service, it is you that we shall send for."
The sheer hypocrisy of it was the most amusing part to Andrew. He watched the whips rise and fall upon the bodies of the unfortunate girls. Skin was ripped and shredded, small bits of flesh were plucked away.
"Your lady does not seem to relish the attention of the whip upon her back."
Corsgreave laughed his evil old man's cackle. "Poor Elizabeth. Her sickness will be the death of her in the end."
"I am sorry to hear that. What is wrong with Lady Elizabeth, my lord?"
"I don't know yet, but something will be very soon. I am in need of a fourth wife."
It was an excellent jest to end the long stay with. It had been one of the best jobs that Cronken had ever done. It opened new vistas, political possibilities. Perhaps he could become the witchfinder supreme of all England. It was an ambition worth striving for.
For the moment though there was the matter of the next stop on their agenda. It promised to be a profitable place, the town of Brantshire. A violent outbreak of witchcraft attested to by many deluded fools. Perfect for his purposes.
He thought of the first time he had hunted a witch, back in his native village. Some fools had started the rumors going and witchcraft was blamed for the destitution of the region. It was the fault of witches that the rains were poor, that crops failed, that taxes were heavy. He had almost believed it himself. There was an old woman who made herbs for medicine. It had been easy to accuse her and her daughter. He had tortured them until they confessed. The daughter had been young and beautiful and she had spurned Andrew several times. He had fucked the shit out of her once she was in his power, raping heir front and back at will. And she had admitted to witchcraft once he had begun tearing her teeth out one by one. He had not burned them, he had dunked them into the pond. If they floated they were guilty of witchcraft, and if they sank they were innocent. Of course they floundered around on the top proving their guilt. After that he had hung them.
His fame had spread and he had gone into the business of tracking down and eliminating witches. He had soon made it a profitable business. He had found his partner, Joseph Maledon, along the way. Maledon had been a constable noted for his extreme brutality. He had forced a confession to witchcraft for Andrew from a stubborn silk merchant that would not break under Cronken's questioning. After that Joseph had gone with him, and they had done quite well for themselves.
They traveled for two days before reaching Brantshire. Along the way they stopped at a small tavern. The proprietor was terrified of offending the fearsome witchfinder and his no less imposing torturer. Even the extreme brutality with which they treated his tavern wench did not give him the courage to throw them out. Andrew relished the way in which they could take over a place on the basis of fear. Many times had they done as they pleased in such places, raping and beating the tavern wenches.
This one was not bad, a short and plump wench with long black hair and big blue eyes. The place hastily emptied out after Maledon in a drunken rage cracked the skull of some lout. They were left on their own.
"Let's see what you have in back."
Andrew tore off the skirt of the girl, exposing her well rounded ass cakes, which he grabbed handfuls of and groped with his hands. He slapped her wiggling rump until she cried out in pain. She tried to run but Maledon caught her around the waist and threw her to the floor.
"Let's see the rest of it."
He tore her skimpy blouse off exposing her tits which he mauled and tugged at. A mug of ale thrown in her face shut off her crying.
"Let's see if you care for the sting of the strap." Andrew coiled his strap around her waist, cracking the leather over the span of her bottom. The rolls of flesh crinkled and creased as the leather bit into them. He slashed it into her tits. It cracked into her big nipples, and the buckle of the strap sliced a long bloody gash into her shoulder. He cracked the leather into a fleshy thigh, splitting a deep cut into the ivory skin from hip almost to knee.
"Don't keep hitting the slut with that buckle. She won't be much good for anything."
They turned the wretched girl upside down and poured a mug of ale into her cunt. They drank the rich brew out of her and then threw her belly down across a table and began to fuck the hell out of her in turn. In between raping they took turns cracking leather upon her broad ass. They covered her bottom with a pattern of broad and heavy welts which bled profusely. She leaked blood as if she were a slaughtered pig and soon they were fucking a body covered with a smear of greasy sweat and sticky half clotted blood. The blood ran down to her ankles as the hours went by. The girl groaned and whimpered, begging occasionally for mercy but only receiving worse treatment.
Andrew thought that the locals would have to stick their things into sheep and cattle for a time. This wench would be of little use to them. It amused him to deprive the stinking little town of the service of its whore.
Maledon hardly ever put his mind to thought, he was more concerned with the pleasures of domination and torture. He filled his mouth with ale and then pried apart the lips of the tavern wench to spit the liquid down her throat.
He pinched her nose between his thumb and index finger until blood gushed from it. He pulled her ears, tore out some of her lustrous black hair, spit down her throat. He bit her shoulders and breasts until he tore through the soft and vulnerable flesh, tasting her blood as his fangs pierced her flesh. He drank the blood from her body, content with the suffering he caused her.
He dripped the saliva from his mouth into hers, making her swallow it down. He whipped her ass once again, slashing it up. He pounded the blood drenched globes with his hard fists, hammering her unconscious.
They awakened her by shoving a stick up her ass while holding a lighted taper close to her feet. She awoke screaming and tried to escape from her punishment, but they threw her down and mounted her again.
"This is a pig hole of a tavern," muttered Joseph. "Imagine a place so wretched that they only have one wench instead of two. We have to share the slut."
"That's one of the discomforts of travel upon the roads. We shall have to bear it."
The owner of the place cowered in the pantry, afraid to come out. Maledon decided to have some sport with the skulking fellow and sought him out. He found him hiding in his hole and cuffed him back and forth across the face until his head rang.
"Dog. You dare to leave your tavern unattended and the wants of your guests unseen to. No wonder that this place is nearly empty. Come along with me now, shithead, and fetch ale for us. Move lively."
Maledon whipped his trousers to pieces, slashing him across the rump with a whip. The pathetic fat little man ran as fast as he could to carry out his instructions. He was even more terrified of them, than Molly, his tavern whore.
Cronken motioned to the fat man to approach. The trembling little fellow waddled over to Cronken, who casually kicked him in the groin, spilling him to the floor clutching at his balls in agony.
"Do you make it a practice to get your piddling little thing into this wench who works for you, little rat?"
"S-sometimes, s-sir."
"Well then, you shall have a treat and take her with my blessing. First I want you to clean the blood off of her bottom with your tongue. After that you can eat shit out of her ass. When you complete those tasks you may fuck the whore."
The fat little man tried to scurry away, but Maledon seized him and twisted his arm up behind his back, locking it in and applying pressure until it came close to breaking.
"Eaa, my arm is breaking. You're breaking my arm."
"Not if you follow our commands like a good fellow. Get your mouth to that ass and start cleaning it."
"Noooo." He shook his head and pleaded with his eyes. They whipped his ass raw, slashing him to shreds. They stripped him naked and poured ale over him.
Maledon smashed his fist into the quivering fat man's face, cracking the column of his nose. He hit him in his plump belly doubling him over. Cronken planted his boot in the fellow's oversized rump. He sent him reeling with a lash of the whip that split a wide bleeding gash over both ass globes.
"Get your mouth to work or we'll slice your nuts off for you and force you to eat them."
The threat and the beating broke his will. He planted his mouth delicately on the trembling whore's ass, his face sick. He stank of fear and the rancid greasy sweat rolled off his body.
Cronken rammed his face harshly into the raw bleeding rump meat.
"Get your face into that you stubborn pig, and lick it clean."
The fat man sucked and lapped the raw wounds. His tongue slurped along the heavy rump, probing into the weals, wiping them back and forth. Soon his face was smeared with her blood and her ass was showing traces of white again through the layers of blood.
"That is good. Very good. Now the rest of it. I want you to eat the shit out of your whore's ass."
The girl rebelled against this inhuman command. A few lashes upon her tender breasts soon convinced her otherwise.
"Why put yourself to all of this trouble when obeying is so much easier and so much less painful."
The wretched girl planted her anal orifice upon the mouth of the even more wretched fat man. As she heaved her guts and tried to work up a bowel movement she thought that this would probably cost her her job. What a ridiculous thing it was, she thought, to worry about such a petty problem when she was being subjected to such horror. Better to concentrate upon getting through this situation without being permanently maimed or injured by the two maniacs.
"Look, she's doing it, she's doing it."
Joseph jumped up and down in glee. He added a few more blows with his strap on the fat man's rump to increase his anguish.
When the ordeal was over the fat man slumped to the floor, his arms jerking and twitching. His eyes were glazed over. Brown stains soiled his lips and a horrible reeking smell emanated from his mouth. Maledon spread wide the cheeks of the girl's ass inspecting the brown stains.
"He ate her shit but he did not finish the task. Her ass is dirty, get this pig to work cleaning it."
Cronken kicked the man in the belly. He kicked him once again in the kidneys.
"Up, swine. I want this ass cleaned all the way with that tongue of yours."
He put his mouth to her ass and began to lick it. He worked upon it until he had finished the job of cleansing. Then holding his battered belly in his hands he went running off to empty his heaving guts out. Maledon tripped him up and he sprawled on the floor. He lay there while he emptied out his insides in a stinking pool that spread under him, and which he was forced to lie in until his hideous guests had departed.
CHAPTER NINE
Jane Fraser lost track of the men she trailed after they left the lands of Lord Corsgreave. Discreet inquiries upon the borders of his domain convinced her that the two had departed. There was no certain way of knowing where they were headed, and so Jane followed along as best she could, setting out on false trails several times. She lost a few days that way, knowing that they were close but not knowing where.
She decided to travel in a more inconspicuous manner. She adapted the clothing of a male and cut her hair short. Under her plumed hat with her cloak drawn close about her and holding her head downcast she could pass for a male if the scrutiny afforded her was not too close. It would have to suffice, she decided. She practiced talking in a deep tone from the back of her throat and walking the way a man did.
After a few lost days she found herself in the small tavern that had been ravaged by the two fiends. The look of the place, the battered condition of the owner and his whore convinced her that the two villains had passed through. At first the pair were reluctant to talk, but a coin and a few threats got the truth out of them. They would not relate the details of what had been done to them, but the apparent culprits by description were the two she sought.
She set out, determined to find them soon. There were several towns and villages that were close by along the route they were taking. She would try them one by one and keep her ears open. Somewhere close by, a witch scare must be in progress, she thought. When she found it, she would find the bastards she was seeking.
Fortunately for Andrew Cronken and Joseph Maledon the town of Brantshire was not the first on the list of places she checked out. Blissfully unaware that the prey had become the hunter they were engaged in their usual activities. There was witchcraft in the air all right, and in this case the witchcraft was real. A sect of devil worshippers actually did exist, a small coven of fools who followed the teachings of a woman called Marala and met deep in the woods to practice strange rites of nature worship. They indulged in wild pagan orgies and paid homage to the devil. There were traces of the old religion in their doings, Cronken thought, the worship of spirits and the elder gods, pre-Christian rubbish. They were more or less a harmless sect, but they were practicing the forbidden and for that they would perish.
"This is an unheard of opportunity," Cronken said to his cohort. "A true sect of witches. We shall make a name for ourselves here. We shall hunt them down and annihilate them. The confessions in this case shall be nothing but the honest truth. A rare thing, true sorcery."
Maledon looked at him. "Where is the profit in this?"
"The furtherance of our reputations would be sufficient. However, the magistrate, the merchants, and the local notables want this thing crushed out. They will pay ten pieces of gold for every witch we apprehend and fifty for the hag who leads them in this obscenity."
It sounded good to Joseph. A hunt by the townspeople through the woods the previous night had broken up a meeting of the coven and captured two of them. One was a tailor, a middle-aged man who held little attraction to the pair other than the information they could extract from him. The other was a young girl of fifteen, a peasant's daughter with bright rosy cheeks and big frightened blue eyes. She had a delightful body bobbing with the soft girlish baby fat that her growing and developing body had not yet shed.
With a free hand to act in the manner they chose Andrew and Joseph decided to work upon her first. It should prove a simple matter to them to extract from her the names of those implicated with her in the devil worship.
They set up their apparatus in the local gaol. It was a large building, serving several towns in close proximity. They had ample room to work.
First the girl, Barbara Drew, was stripped naked and examined by the two arch villains. They shoved their fingers up into her, encountering a loose and well used hole. She had obviously engaged in much sex.
"So, little heathen slut, you have given your virginity up to Satan."
"Yes I have," she answered brazenly.
Her reply stunned the two of them. They had not expected such a response.
"Girl, are you aware of what you are saying?"
"Absolutely aware of it, witchfinder. I have fucked with the devil and felt his black seed gush into my body and fill up my bitch's hole." The two of them consulted together. They felt superstition tugging at their minds, the fear of witchcraft that only the deluded fools they preyed upon had fallen victim to.
"What if she really is a witch," Joseph ventured. "We should be careful how we handle her."
"Nonsense, a stupid young fool. But a ripe and tender one. I think we should proceed in the customary way with this vixen."
They then put the questions to her, demanding to know the names of her fellow devil worshippers. But the stubborn girl refused to talk.
"Suppose we bring your father and mother, and your brothers here. They may also be implicated in this. In any case, it is their fault for failing to give you an upbringing that kept you clear of temptation. Would you enjoy the sight of your family being questioned with dire torture?"
"Who cares for the stupid dogs."
That convinced Cronken that they were dealing with a stubborn little bitch. They chained her with her arms overhead and her legs spread wide. This facilitated both the torture and the free roaming of their hands over her body. They explored her gash at will with brutal fingers, hooking and entwining their fingers inside her flesh.
They began with the search for the devil's marks. As the young bitch was most reluctant to scream when they thrust the pins again and again into her body, it only proved that she was covered with the marks of Lucifer.
Maledon gave the pins an extra twist when he plunged them in, pulling them in and out of the punctures he covered her body with. He even thrust the pins up into the girl's vaginal tunnel and shoved the points through the membrane of her moist vaginal wall. That brought the sound out of her, deep and shrill screams that did not cease until she passed out on them.
"That has broken the little vixen. Now give her a taste of the flames of hell."
They awakened her by pressing red hot irons into her armpits. As the hair smoked and incinerated and the flesh turned color, she awakened to a horrid pain worse than that of the probing pins.
"Aaaiieeeee. You dirty bastards."
Maledon smacked her in the mouth, breaking off a few chips of her front teeth. He laid the whip five times across her tits, slashing and cutting them up. He was enflamed by this little witch, and he wanted to rip Barbara to pieces.
They clamped a pair of four armed razor pointed clamps upon her breasts. As they tightened the pincers the four sharp points closed toward one another, piercing deep into her breasts. Blood oozed down her body as they tightened the clamps digging deep into her savagely mutilated flesh. They felt the triumph of conquering her as she screamed and babbled for mercy. The flesh tore and broke under the clamping of the four jaws into her flesh. The breasts stretched and twisted as the flesh mangling objects were turned back and forth. Maledon let one slip from his hand. It dangled from her breast, an animal with its jaws buried in her flesh. She trembled and writhed and bit her lips.
When the objects were removed from her flesh the blood poured hot and thick out of her. They cauterized the wounds in her body with red hot irons. The treatment stopped the bleeding in the most painful way possible.
"I think that we should try something more subtle. We do not want to ruin this bitch before she talks to us."
They began to tear out her toenails one by one. That method always achieved first rate results. In this case it did the trick as well. The stubborn and brave girl was determined to remain silent, but the pain of having her toenails torn out one after the other with pincers was more than her flesh could bear.
She broke down and began to talk. Maledon kept her talking by gouging the point of his knife blade into the blackened burn marks on her breasts and into the scorched skin in her armpits. She became exceedingly stubborn after she had given them five names. She was obviously down to those she considered her personal friends and tried to persuade them to get the remainder of the names from the tailor. But when Maledon began to etch her belly she soon broke and gave out with the remainder of the names.
The tailor corroborated her story. The unfortunate witch was immersed in oil up to his waist. As the cauldron was heated and bubbles broke upon the agitated surface of the liquid in which the screaming man threshed and splashed he began to speak the truth. They allowed him out of the cauldron when convinced that he had no more to tell them, half boiled and almost dead. Huge blisters coated his skin and the hide had begun to break and peel from his legs.
"This is a good bit of work, Joseph. We have a full fourteen more to lay our hands on. A tidy bit of change for our pockets, I'm thinking."
The dragnet was pit out for the others. Five of them were caught without very much trouble but the others managed to escape in time. Beaters and trackers stalked the woods for them without success. They were nowhere to be found.
The prisoners were horribly tortured day after day, every bit of information extracted from them sifted for a clue to the whereabouts of their fellows. After several days and the dislocation of many joints the witchfinders were no closer to laying their hands on the remainder.
"I think they might have left this vicinity," Joseph said.
"Not a chance of it, they're in those woods somewhere. The bastards would not break faith with the devil by abandoning this territory. It's a question of time before we find their lair."
Maledon was becoming restless. The town was a wretched hovel. It lacked even one good tavern, the hole that passed for one lacking a wench. Maledon shot his sperm into the cunts and the mouths of the witches, but he lacked the pleasure of a real whore, a weakness that he found he could not do without. The raped body of a witch somehow lacked the pleasure to it that the body of a frightened whore presented.
Playing with Barbara's tits, pulling on the youthful globes until the nipples dripped blood, he thought of nothing but the ripe body of a tavern whore, and the good ale that the better ones provided. There was a good tavern in the neighboring town of Mayfield. He would go there and enjoy the day with one of the three plump and blond whores that worked out of the tavern.
"I'm off to Mayfield for the day," he informed Cronken. "Do you want to come alone with me?"
Cronken looked at him as if the man had gone mad.
"What do you want to go there for? We're to burn these scum upon the morrow after public exorcism."
"Never mind, I can handle myself. I shall be back in plenty of time."
"Well, if you're not back by noon I shall start the ceremony without you."
There were times that Maledon could have put his blade into the back of his partner who fancied himself to be the decision maker at all times. He realized however that he needed Cronken more than Cronken needed him.
Riding off toward Mayfield at a brisk gallop, his thoughts gloomy, he fancied that he was being followed. Looking back from time to time he saw a rider about a half a mile behind him coming on at a slightly faster pace than Maledon was moving. Still, it was nothing to be alarmed about, there appeared to be no antagonistic intentions in the fellow, who was coming on at such an unhurried pace.
The rider disappeared when they came to a forking of the road. Joseph rode on for another five miles through a very lonely stretch of deserted countryside. As he passed a patch of woods a rider came out suddenly from between two trees and blocked off his path. Maledon's heart fluttered. The fellow looked like the same rider who had disappeared at the parting of the road.
"I have to get by you, sir," Maledon said.
"Scum pig bastard. You're going nowhere."
The voice shocked Maledon, it was a woman's voice and not an unfamiliar one. He looked on in astonishment as the rider removed her plumed hat. It was Jane Fraser.
Maledon looked about him nervously. There were no other riders around. If the mad bitch meant to ambush him she had put her own head into the noose.
"Well now, if it isn't the escaped witch. I know not what you want, bitch, but I think you'll be going with me. Andrew will be more than pleased to be seeing you once again. We have a crowded schedule, but I think that we can fit you into it."
"You stupid fucking fool. This is your last day on earth, you rotten scum. I wanted to get the two of you together, but perhaps this is more convenient."
Maledon growled in rage and whipped his knife out of its sheath. As he put the reins to his horse Jane brought her hand out from under her cloak with a pistol ready to fire. She put the ball through the head of Maledon's mount, who went down pinning the screaming rider by the leg.
"My leg, this horse is on my leg."
"That is the least of your problems, you bastard."
Jane dismounted and approached the pinned rider. She stepped around him avoiding the swing of his blade. She pulled her sword out of its scabbard and slashed Maledon across his hand. The knife dropped from his wounded hand and she kicked it out of his reach.
"Get out from under that horse or I'll carve your eyes out."
Struggling and wrenching Maledon managed to pry his leg from under the dead horse.
"Stand up you animal."
"I can't stand."
"On your feet or die."
Maledon attempted to stand, then fell back to the ground.
"I can't get up, my leg is broken."
It was a bluff to lure the girl within range. She read it in his beady pig eyes, but played along with him. She came close and he lunged suddenly at her. She stepped aside and swept the sword over his torso from hip to shoulder, cutting a long gash into his flesh. As he retreated from her she effortlessly ran the sword into his right thigh.
"Aiieeeee!"
He fell to the ground and writhed about like a snake with its head chopped off. He was a ludicrous sight, the ferocious killer wailing and whimpering with pain and fear.
"Get to your feet slowly and walk into the woods. If you try anything I'm going to cut your ears off."
The terrified man did as she told him. He wept and sniveled, clutching at his bleeding wounds. When they were a short distance into the woods she ordered him to place his arms; behind his back around the trunk of a tree. She tied his hands together with strong cord, and then tore off his shirt and stuffed it into his mouth.
He was hers now. She could torture him to death and go on for the other one.
From the dead horse she secured the reins and bridle, an excellent improvised whip. She cursed herself for not providing the equipment she needed in advance. But what she had would do. There would be little left of him when she finished, and she intended to take her time.
She held up the leather close to his face, heartened and gratified by the fear in his eyes.
"Unfortunately I don't have your equipment. But after I finish stripping you naked I'll still see if I can do a few things to you that are up to your own high standards. I swear this, before you die you shall pray for that release."
CHAPTER TEN
Jane Fraser lashed Maledon's body to pieces. She whipped his balls, cutting the leather into the hanging and swinging sacs again and again. She carved up his flesh from head to toe, whipping and whipping. She turned his torso into a mass of blood drenched wounds and weals.
When she tired of the flogging she used her knife on him. She carved away small patches of skin, tiny bits of flesh. She used the blade as a razor, shaving the hair off of his chest, out of his armpits, gashing him and cutting away skin as she did so.
She carved small tips of flesh off of his fingers and toes. She pressed the blade under the nails and carved them off of him. She split his nose down the center and cut off his earlobes. She carved away his eyebrows and initialed his face. She carved the word killer into his forehead and etched the word scum into his belly. She hacked off his nipples and shoved them up his ass.
She rammed stones up his ass and burned his feet. She cut his hair away and sliced through the tendons of his ankles.
She loaded her pistol with gunpowder without a ball, and fired the powder from point blank range into his groin, filling his cock and balls with the hot burning grains of black powder. He tore his back and rump to bloody shreds writhing and contorting against the tree, trying to get loose. She fired another charge into his face, filling his features with the black powder, burning it into his eyes. She then surveyed the butchered, mad thing incapable of feeling further pain. She cut the throat of the thing, grateful for a final spasm which shot through his body when he died.
"You never thought that retribution would come to you, or that it would be like this."
The dead thing could not answer her. But she was satisfied with the revenge she had taken upon it. That left the other one, Cronken. She wanted him to know what had happened to his friend. She wanted him to worry about it.
She put the dead man across the saddle of her horse and rode back toward Brantshire. A few miles out of town she saw some farmers working in the fields. It was nearly night, they were ready to call it a day. She fired her pistol into the air to get their attention, and then dropped the thing to the ground and rode off.
The horrified peasants went sick when they saw the thing on the ground up close. They went screaming off to the town to warn the people that the witches had destroyed some poor victim.
If Andrew Cronken had not known Joseph Maledon for so long he would have been unable to recognize the body. Cronken felt his bowels go cold when he looked upon the hideous mutilated thing that Maledon had been reduced to. And he had been alive when all of that had been done to him, of that Andrew was certain.
Andrew drank throughout the night, sick with fear. Who had done this thing? The relative of one of their victims? Friends of one of the many innocents they had slaughtered? There was no way of knowing. Whoever had done the deed was consumed with total hatred. It was the most savage butchery Andrew had ever witnessed. He wanted out of Brantshire, he wanted to scurry back to Lord Corsgreave and throw himself upon the man's protection. But he dared not stir from the town.
How many could there have been? Could it have been the remains of the pack of witches he was engaged in destroying? One thing he was certain of, his own death at the hands of the pitiless slayer of Joseph Maledon would be equally ugly and painful.
And so he waited. He drank and took his spite out upon the prisoners, asking them questions they could not answer.
"Who killed my partner," he demanded of Barbara.
"The devil came up out of hell and claimed him for his own. Now he's finding out what true suffering is."
Cronken struck her across her breasts with the whip, gashing her scarred boobs once again. He would teach this witch the meaning of fear. He striped her back, slashing the pulp of her lacerated flesh to pieces. He whipped her thighs, splashing blood from the numerous cuts overlaid and criss-crossing into her flesh as he flailed her with the whip. The fanatic devil worshipper called upon Satan to protect her as she went into a convulsive fit of self-induced mesmeric worship of the whip that lashed her to pieces. But her attraction to the torture that tore her apart did not sate the appetite for mayhem of the fear-maddened animal who sank his own terrors by lashing her flesh. Andrew sliced deep cuts into her ass, cutting up the bouncing and heaving mounds. Blood shot from the deep gashings as he swung with all of the weight of his body and all of the might of his arm. Finally he let the whip drop, realizing that he was lashing the body of an unconscious woman. Still, he was satisfied with the damage he had done. He allowed the air to pump into his heaving and strained lungs. The sweat of exhaustion, alcohol, and fear poured down his body. He crumbled in a chair, trembling and sick, little better off than the girl he had flogged.
Jane Fraser was not far off, unaware of the damage she had wrought to the spirit of her foe, but certain that she had struck a heavy blow to him.
As Jane watched the village from a stretch of woods close to the road, she saw several riders approaching along the road. Hiding behind a bush, she saw as they came close that they were soldiers. It was hard to make them out in the darkness. Suddenly her heart thumped. The uniforms were those of William Benteen's regiment. Could it be her chicken hearted lover come to seek vengeance for her? It was Captain Benteen!
"Darling!" she screamed, running out into the road.
It took the captain a few seconds to recover from his stupefied astonishment over her appearance. He was quite shocked by the butchery she had committed on her long and magnificent mane of hair. But that did not matter, they were together again, united. He threw his arms around her, squeezing and caressing her as his soldiers discreetly looked away.
"So you did come after all," she said.
"Of course I came, I never had any other intention. You shouldn't have taken off that way."
"Well, I could not control myself. I had to go after them. And I have not been entirely unsuccessful. I have already killed one of them, Maledon, the torturer."
"What did you do to him?"
She looked at him, frowning at his disapproving face. "You wouldn't really want to know what I did to him. Let it suffice that I killed the bastard. The same as I will kill his partner."
"You will kill him if we get our hands on him, but I will be there to make sure that the killing is quick and merciful."
The look in his eyes informed her that he meant what he said. Well, she would get around him, there were ways. But she did not think it wise to argue the point with him.
"I think we should go in and get the bastard tomorrow. There is a witch burning set for tomorrow, and we could prevent it if we attacked." The captain considered the question. "By attacking the town we would provoke a legal response against ourselves. If we kill the witch-finder we might get away with it, but if we attacked the town it would be our necks for certain. Even if we got the victims away, they have been condemned and would merely be fugitives, not freed of the charges. We can save others when we kill him, but these poor wretches are already doomed."
His words made sense to her. If he did not intend to attack the burning then there was nothing she could do. Besides, when she thought about it she realized that Cronken would be expecting such a move. It would be better for her to exercise caution. It would not do to come so far only to fail.
The captain dispatched two of his men into town to get what information they could. They were under orders if questioned by anyone to assert that they were on their way north to join the border campaign and had stopped off in the town to see the burning of the witches.
Andrew Cronken was in bad condition for the burning of the condemned upon the following day. Ruefully, he realized that it had been a long time since he had performed the ceremonies alone. His head ached from all of the whiskey and ale he had poured into himself. It had not helped. He feared the unknown, the unseen enemy lurking in wait for him. Fortunately the townsmen gave him a large armed group to see to the burning of the witches in undisturbed safety. There would be no rescue of the devil worshippers.
Andrew would have felt better if he had known who his enemy was. It could have been any of a vast horde of enemies. He had left enemies behind him all through the area he had serviced.
The people assembled for the great spectacle. The crowd was nervous, knowing full well the fate of the witchfinder's assistant, whose mutilated body had been left outside of the town by what was now being described as a banshee on horseback.
Cronken surveyed the vast crowd, searching among the faces for perhaps one familiar, one that he knew. But they were all strangers and townspeople. Well, it was a vain hope that he would even know the face of his enemy. Perhaps it was someone who had never met him face to face.
The naked devil worshippers were dragged naked along the cobblestones, blows and filth rained upon them by the jeering crowd. Hands ripped and tore the flesh of the women, yanked at the genitals of the men. There was a loud outcry for their blood. They had no friends among that crowd. They were dragged to the platform built for the burning, and there they were bound to the stakes.
The savage hurting whips played over them as Cronken went through the rituals of exorcism. He read out the phrases, his eyes full of gloating satisfaction as the whips tore the bodies to ribbons. Blood splashed from mangled flesh. Tits were chopped until the rivulets of scarlet fluid dripped from torn open canyons and gorges gouged deep into the flesh that was twisted and ripped and torn.
Stubborn Barbara called upon Satan to aid her and muttered curses and blasphemies against the cruel tide of onlookers taking satisfaction from her destruction. Her prayers and entreaties to the devil went unanswered of course. The brutal floggers concentrated upon her, the whips seeking out the tender areas to rend and mutilate. Her breasts were ripped apart, and her ass mangled. Blood ran out of her cunt as the whips continually shocked and lashed against that most tender and vulnerable area. Her fortitude cracked and she filled the air with her horrible screams.
Foolish stubborn bitch, Andrew thought. As if her belief could hold off death and pain. He mopped the sour sweat from his forehead, trying to keep a grip on himself before the crowd. It would not do for them to see how badly he had been shaken by the death of his partner.
He signaled for the flogging to end. The men had done their work well, seldom had he seen flesh so mangled and torn. The mass flogging of so many witches was the greatest circus he had yet arranged. It would be hard to top it.
The branding irons were now red hot. For each of the condemned, the mark that signified their corruption by and dedication to the devil.
He would use one of the irons himself. Looking calm and unaffected by the emotion of cruelty he approached Barbara, satisfied by the look of hatred she flashed at him from her still defiant eyes. He chose the area between her breasts, a spot still free of the pollution of blood. This was the area for the hot metal to singe into. He thrust the iron into the deep cleavage, twisting and turning it, pressing it in as the flesh smoked and burned. Her screams rose up once again, such a loud scream for so slight and young a girl.
"Executioners, do your work. Death to the worshippers of Satan."
He made passes with his hands over them, the golden crosses upon his gloves resplendent as he held the attention of the multitude.
His men put red hot metal to vulnerable flesh. Every one of the condemned unfortunates experienced the horror of roasted flesh.
Now it was time for the finisher, for the coup de grace. Andrew bowed his head in prayer, watching the crowd follow his example. Then he raised his head and gave the signal. The pyres were lit, faggots erupted into sweeping waves of flame.
It took a long time for all of them to burn to death. Andrew watched the entire affair from beginning to end with avid delight. Another group of fools consigned to oblivion. And his pockets so much the richer for it. Now if he could find the others and avoid the fate that had befallen his partner.
One thing was certain. It would not be wise to leave the place. Not when unseen terror was lurking in wait for him. He watched the executioners reduce the burned charred remains of the corpses to ashes.
The two soldiers sent into town by Captain Benteen and Jane did not stay to see the finish of the carnage. They had seen much fighting in the north country, all of the horrors of war, but this fouled and one-sided slaughter sickened them. It was not the same thing as slaying a fighting enemy in fair combat. They brought the news of what they had seen to their captain. He listened to the report with mounting anger. Jane listened with him.
"Damnation, that bastard takes a pleasure in his butcheries. I almost wish that we had tried to put a stop to this thing. But he will not be continuing this horror of his very much longer."
"What do you intend doing?" Jane asked. "According to what your soldiers learned in town there are still many more members of this witch's group still at large. The bastard will not stir from that pest hole until he has earned his full price, for every head."
"You should not have taken such rash action yourself by killing his man. You merely alerted him to his own danger. It will be hard to take him by surprise now. I think that the best chance we have will simply be to go into town in a few days at night when he has let his guard slip a bit. It should not be difficult to get at him. We will kill any fools who try to take his side. After all, I have three good and loyal troopers with me. We will kill him quick and take our departure. It will be a personal affair, and I feel sure that once I have returned to our army that will be the end of it. He has not the power yet to strike after his death against us, although if the bastard were to live much longer and continue in this way, he would be so renowned and well backed a witchfinder that it would be death for any who raised hands against him."
Jane had to admit that he made sense, but that did not satisfy her vengeance lust. She knew that she had to kill the bastard slowly, to torture him to death. She would not wait two days, but would slip away upon the following night. With luck she could get to him, and get away with her own life.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A day after his death Cronken almost felt relieved to be rid of Maledon. He realized that all of Maledon's share was now in his hands, Joseph had left it all behind him when he took his final journey that turned out to be a long trip indeed. And Andrew had carried through the entire operation without his capable partner.
Andrew did not need a partner. For a small amount of gold he could find himself an assistant, an employee rather than a sharer in the wealth. That was the best idea he had fallen upon in many a day. In fact, Cronken was coming to feel relieved at the demise of his partner. The one man who knew all of his secrets, who shared in the knowledge of his swindles and conspiracies in full detail was gone.
Andrew would carry on for another year and then retire, assuming a new name and settling down somewhere where his identity was unknown. It was too dangerous to continue carrying on in the same manner, the death of Maledon had convinced him that retribution was closing in fast.
But all of that could wait. He had a new victim to work upon. A young girl named Sylvia had been apprehended with witch's charms in her basket, undoubtedly on her way to the hidden lair of the hiding members of the coven.
"Do you realize that my partner has been foully and hideously murdered," he asked her. "I suspect that your friends may be the murderers, and if so, you yourself are a part of it."
"I know nothing about this," she pleaded. "I was just carrying these charms to sell to people who believe in their powers to work cures. It's just a way to make a few extra coins. My father is sick. I know nothing of witchcraft, I swear."
"But you do know the missing witches?"
"Yes, but many people know them. I--aarr!" She screamed when the first lash of the whip exploded upon her naked breasts. Andrew had not the artistic technique with the lash that Joseph had, but he knew how to hurt and maim.
Andrew could judge from the sound of her voice and the expression on her face that she spoke the truth. But that mattered not, he wanted the pleasure of hurting her. He licked his lips as he ran his eyes over her naked body. The sweat had congealed upon her skin, she trembled and shook in terror and tears ran in torrents down her cheeks.
She was tall and slender, but with large breasts, long and teardrop shaped knockers. Her hips were also well rounded, and her ass began well up from the sweep of her thighs. She had a good body for whipping, with very fair, freckled and delicate skin. Her face was well constructed, delicate bone structure and high cheekbones. It would be a pleasure breaking her down and raping her. He lashed out at her again, letting the whip swish into her long mane of amber hair, slicing away a few locks.
"If my friend Joseph were alive and with us, slut, he could have shown you true whip artistry. Aye, the man could have plucked your head bald just by cutting your hair off lock by lock with this whip. I am afraid that I am somewhat clumsy in my technique."
"Please sir, don't hurt me."
He walked over to her and rattled her chains. His hands fondled the lips of her sex which he parted. The cunt was dry as he ran his fingers along the inner lips, trying to excite her clitoris with his thumbs.
"Pain can be as stimulating as pleasure at times, especially if you have no choice in the matter. I think that you may find a bit of pleasure in this if you simply let it happen to you."
He stuffed a spiked ball into her mouth. Saliva welled out of her gaping jaw as she tossed her head about trying to prevent him from forcing the object into her mouth, but her struggles were hopeless, and soon he had her gagged and ready for the real punishment.
He wrapped a chain around her body. He crossed his arms and tugged the end of the chain in opposite directions, crushing the heavy metal links deep into her breasts. The iron sank into the sweaty white flesh, grinding and ploughing deep into her body until he felt deep and stark black marks upon her tissues.
Andrew hauled the chain up between her legs. He pressed it over her crotch along her sex lips, parting them to firmly sink in the links, and then digging the chain into the cleavage between her buttocks. Then he applied the terrible force once again, pulling at both ends of the chain with all of his strength until the corded veins stood out on his forehead and the miserable girl felt her body being torn into pieces as by a savage giant grinding her in his jaws. Blood oozed from the spikes of the iron ball in her jaws. She squirmed and wiggled in her chains as Andrew pressed his body against hers, rubbing off his erection upon her flesh while grinding the chain up and down, sawing it along the cleavage between her ass globes and along the delicate crotch. He sawed her flesh bloody before he quit the terrible torment.
He felt dizzy and tired. His arms ached from the force he had exerted upon her. That was one thing that Joseph was good for, the heavy work of torture. It could be such a strain upon a less robust physical type such as himself.
He removed the iron ball gag from her mouth before she mangled her mouth beyond repair upon the spikes. He wanted her to be able to answer questions. He threw buckets of ice cold water over her.
"I think that now you realize that I am not playing a game with you. So I want you to tell me everything that you know about the witches. And I will know if you are lying."
She talked in a hoarse, broken voice, the strength gone out of her. She really did know almost nothing. Andrew realized that she would not be able to lead him to the others he sought.
He began to flog her. He used a whip with a short stiff handle and a long supple strap of leather ending in a leather ball stuffed with an iron pellet. This awful instrument sank its tip deep into her defenseless flesh with every stroke. The strap looped and coiled around her body, the ball tearing her skin. It was a bruising instrument, capable of chipping bone as well as gashing flesh. He wrapped it around her arms and legs, letting it take its own course at will upon the contours of her body. He wrapped it around her thighs, sinking the tip into her ass cheeks. He flogged her again and again. He tore at her rib cage, thrilling to the harsh sound of ribs cracking and fracturing.
"Bitch, slut, harlot, witch."
He vented and relieved his fear upon her, purged himself of his hatred. When he was content with the flogging he pressed his body close to hers and thrust his cock into her tight virginal chamber. It was an unexpected dividend of evil pleasure to have a virgin at his mercy, and he made the most of his opportunity.
He took her virginity from her with one long, ripping stroke. He gouged his way into her, feeling the brutalized body shudder under this fresh onslaught of pain. He caressed her broken ribs, stroking the discolored and blood stained rib area, feeling the chips and splinters of bone that he had cracked from her ribs.
A short distance away Captain Benteen was enjoying a quite different sex experience with the lovely young Jane Fraser. She sucked and licked every inch of his body, starting with his toes and working up to his neck. Her skilled and passionate hands constantly caressing and fondled his body, her hands cupping and molding his balls through her fingers as her thirsty and hungry mouth approached his cock. She teased around it, licking in great swirling patterns along his belly, biting up hairs between her teeth to pluck at them as she made his body come marvelously alive. She shoved her fingers in and out of his ass hole, jerked his cock in her hands, tickled and scratched and clawed him. She bit and licked and sucked and kissed.
"Are you content?" she asked him as her mouth wandered over his hairy and muscular chest.
"More so than ever before in my life."
She was glad of that, she wanted him lulled and dulled when she made her move that night to get the bastard who had destroyed her life. She made love to him all through the day. The love making exhausted him, but the thought of what she planned for Cronken stimulated her so that she felt no tiredness.
That night as the captain slept she slipped away. She saddled her horse in silence, armed herself with her arsenal of weapons, and stole away on cat's feet. When she was far enough away she mounted her horse and trotted toward the town. She knew that there would be armed men watching. There would also be armed men guarding the lair of the beast. She knew not how she was going to manage it, but she would trust to stealth and luck.
While she made her way to Brantshire Andrew was questioning several family members of those persons he had burned for witchcraft in Brantshire.
Barbara's mother shivered, naked and afraid before him. He tapped his whip upon her well padded thigh. She was just beginning to fade with the rot of age, but it looked well on her with her ample flesh turning to wrinkles and deep creases. He had his customary power, he could do as he pleased with her, and there were none to stand up to him.
"Sir, isn't it enough that you burned my daughter."
He cracked the whip across one large and drooping nipple. He split it open, a rivulet of blood poured out of it.
"Do not anger me, you scum. My man has been murdered and your dead daughter was a devil worshipper. In the goodness of my heart I was willing to overlook your own grievous fault in allowing your daughter to grow up with so slack a hand upon her that she turned to the devil. But with my assistant dead, I must think that this unholy coven may be responsible. If so, you may very well know more about it than you will say. If that be the case, remember this, I will show no mercy for you."
Her husband tried to lumber forward, but two of the bully boys that were assisting Cronken seized him. They pounded his guts with their heavy fists, doubling him up.
"Chain him up by his feet."
They hung the wretch naked by his feet, and Andrew dangled a heavy iron ball from his wrists. He screamed as his burdened body bore down with sinew tearing force upon his ankles. Andrew gave the wretched peasant a lash across his balls with the whip. An angry purple blotch marked the delicate membrane skin of his nuts.
"Oh, no, no, don't do that," his wife begged. She threw herself at Andrew's feet, sobbing and pleading. Andrew felt his balls tighten. It would be a deep thrill of sadistic delight to have the mother of the girl he had slaughtered.
"Take the rest of these swine out of here," he commanded his helpers. "Lock them up in the storehouse for the night. See that they are heavily fettered and none too comfortable. We shall see tomorrow what they have to say for themselves."
The men cast knowing glances at one another. Andrew Cronken was going to break open another bitch. They envied him his work as a witchfinder, it had benefits far in excess of the profits to be gleaned.
As soon as they were gone Andrew delivered his boot to the fleshiest part of his victim's rump, experiencing a surge of sex thrill when the flesh bobbled and jellied and creased under the thrust of his boot.
"Let's see if you are any better at fucking than your daughter was."
A look of animal hatred came over the woman's face. She scrambled to her feet and lunged at the hateful witch slayer. "You foul perverted devil."
He avoided the rake of her talons and planted his fist in the pit of her stomach. As she collapsed in a writhing ball of fat ivory flesh he began to beat her with his whip, striping her smooth skin. He regretted that he had neglected to have the bitch bound, she had almost taken out one of his eyes. He would have to be careful of such slackness in the future.
When he had cut her up to the point that she could no longer pose a threat to him, he slapped chains upon her wrists and ankles. Then he rolled her upon her back and, tearing off his clothes, threw himself down upon her bruised body. He pinched up a welt cut into her shoulder, making the blood ooze and squirt between his fingers. He pressed the sides of the cut together, and then ripped the cut wide open, giving her a lifetime scar to remember him by, "You seem to have lost some of your sting, you scorpion. Let's see if I can put some fire back into you."
He lacked the potency to renew himself so fast after his long session with his new young victim. But he kept on grinding away at her, simultaneously slapping and punching her body. He pounded her tits, sinking his hands into the big globes. He clawed the blood from the weals etched in her skin, mashing her flesh into the stones, rubbing her forehead and grating her face into the stone.
The sending away of his men was a mistake, as well as devoting his full attentions to the unfortunate mother of the girl he had executed. Jane slipped into the town past the half drunk sentry on guard. There were empty streets in the small shit hole, and the rest of the bullies assisting the vicious cowardly assassin were taking their own pleasure with the remainder of the new group of prisoners. Jane regretted that she could not do something to stop them. She watched them maul and toy with the bodies of the poor pathetic wretches.
They stripped the women naked, stuffing rags into their mouths. They stuffed their greasy, filthy fingers into their bodily cavities, and slapped their bottoms with cruel, stinging spanks.
They beat the men, smashing them in the bellies with hard fists, and pummeling them as they rolled upon the ground with their clubs. They kept it up until the battered forms lay still and dormant under their blows. Then they fell upon the trapped women again.
Jane made her way through the dark toward the structure that was the only one in town with a light showing through the window. From the description of the town the scouts had reported she was certain that the building with the lantern still lit was the one containing her foe.
Completely absorbed in his punishment of the woman, clawing and biting and pounding her as he beat her head upon the stone and dragged his flaccid cock in and out of her gaping cunt, Andrew Cronken was unaware of the approach of the fury who wanted his skin.
Jane stopped short. There was one sentry in front of the building. It definitely was the goal of her search, the bastard had to be inside. She heard heart rending screams, cries she recognized as those of a woman being brutally raped and tortured. Her fists closed upon her weapons. It was all she could do to restrain herself from rushing upon the place pistols in hand. She circled around the building to come up on the bastard on guard from the rear. She trod through mire and filth, carefully avoiding sound. The son of a bitch was drinking from a flask, that was in her favor. He was armed with nothing more than a club.
Jane stood in the shadows for a long time within five yards of the sentry, her dagger in hand, planning how she would kill him. He had nothing more than a club, it was unlikely that any such riffraff would have more than a dagger. She hoped that none of them had a pistol or a sword, that would complicate her task. She knew that she could kill him, just come up behind him and put the blade to his throat. She pressed her fingers inside her trousers and fingered her wet and heated gash. She was experiencing an orgasm at the prospect of killing a man with cold steel. She played with her pussy, enjoying the sensation and not struggling against it. She would not attempt to hold on to a morality that was forever behind her. She would take every morsel of satisfaction she could from the terrible things she planned to do.
She sneaked up on the fool, treading softly, coming up right behind him without a sound. In a flash her hand was over his mouth and her blade was ripping open his throat. He stiffened and died. She felt his body jerk and soften, and as he slumped she smelled his shit and heard the sound of piss running in his pants. The inferior bastard had died messily. She hoped that Cronken would die with as little dignity.
She checked to be sure that she had not been detected. Then she dragged the dead man off into the shadows. She knew not how much time she had before she was detected, but she intended to use it.
She opened the side window when she could not gain entrance through the locked doors. She stealthily made her way through two dark rooms until she came to a door beyond which came sound and light. She slowly inched it open. Her heart pounded with hatred. It was Cronken, tearing the tits of a plump woman to pieces with his teeth and drinking the blood out of her wounds. His eyes were wild, maniacal. She had him.
She stripped off her clothes except for her belt containing sword scabbard, knife sheath, and the two pistols through it. She wanted the scum to see her naked and desirable body while she was taking him apart in small pieces. She fingered the ugly brand mark on her breast.
It was time. With her sword in hand she burst into the room. The terrified Cronken rolled off of the woman he was mauling and raping. Even with her hair cropped short, he still had no difficulty recognizing the beauty looming over him with a sword in her hand.
"You! Jane Fraser."
What was she doing with a blade in her hand? A sword, a knife, and two pistols. The mad and determined look in her eyes. The dangerous look to her. Could she have killed Maledon? He felt a trickle of warmth running down his leg. He looked down and winced at the piss he was releasing. He was more frightened than he knew.
"Get up, you stinking coward. If you let out a yell I'm going to cut your eyes out. And if you think that I'm just a helpless woman, you can ask your friend about that down in hell."
He gasped. "You did that?"
"That's right. Now on your feet, you fucking scum."
He lunged to his feet and then made a break for his own pistol lying upon a table only a few yards away. But the point of her sword flicked out and knocked it to the floor. As he scrambled for it she sliced him across the bottom with the blade. He snapped his hands to the blood spurting wound.
"Aaaiieeeee!"
Her blade flashed to his throat. She pressed him back to the wall, a spineless and terrified ball of grease and stink, a muck of fear and cowardice.
"Not another word, not another sound. Get down on your knees and put your hands behind you."
His spirit crushed, he did as he was told. She chained his hands behind his back and then his feet as well. She stuffed a rag into his mouth and bound it in place. Then she tapped him on his forehead, forcing him to look up at her.
"Now bastard, we can begin."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jane dragged him out to the middle of the room. She freed the two women prisoners in the room, nursing their wounds for a few minutes.
"I want you two to go into the next room and remain quiet. I can save your lives if you don't interfere. Whatever sounds you hear, don't come out. I don't want you to see what's going to happen here."
Jane Fraser was still enough of the person she had been to feel shame at others witnessing her savagery. With the two women safely out of the way she turned back to Cronken.
"Now you bastard, I'm going to make you know the things that are awaiting you down in hell."
She kicked him in the balls, again and again. As he went into violent contortions she stomped and kicked his manhood away. She kicked him in the face, breaking his nose.
She rolled him over onto his belly, and went over to the fire where the hot irons were burning, ready for his fiendish use, but now instead to be turned against him.
"I can guess the things that you intended doing with these things. Well, let's see if you can guess what I intend to do with them."
She pressed her boot down upon his ass, pinning down one of his buttocks under her foot. She brought the hot iron close to his ass as he wiggled futilely. More piss flowed out of his flaccid prick. Then she jammed the burning iron between his buttocks and seared black the crease between his ass halves. The stench of burned flesh assailed her nostrils, sickening her. The brute passed out.
She revived him with the second iron. This one she traced along his spinal column from his neck to his tail. She kicked him over, watching with amusement the blood leaking out of his gagged mouth. The gag had apparently not prevented him from biting his tongue.
"Do you want to die, you swine? This is only a small portion of the torture you wreaked upon so many others. How many? A hundred, two hundred?"
She straddled his body and let loose a stream of piss on his upturned face. He tossed his head from side to side trying to avoid the torrent.
"You remember that little horror, don't you? Remember how you exposed me to the crowd. Remember that old woman who forced me to swallow and eat shit."
She took the third iron from the fire. There was a fourth approaching white hot intensity and when she had used that one the first two would be ready once again.
"Too bad you can't mutter any of your incantations, your evocations to the foul demons who watch over you. They might save you. But you are the witchfinder, and I am a witch, am I not? In that case you have nothing to fear."
With the third red hot iron she obliterated his nipples and navel. He became a snake thing, contorting and writhing and rolling over the floor. She kicked him in the burn line running up his spine and in his incinerated belly button. "Now for the lessons of the whip."
She whipped his body to shreds. First she started with his ass, slicing deep into the meat until the lash began to strip away pieces of the meat. She progressed up his back, cutting so deep into his flesh the white of the shoulder blade bones showed through.
Captain Benteen would have been shocked if he could have seen the things that she was doing, but he could guess what she was up to as he discovered that she was missing. She had obviously gone to Brantshire alone. Summoning his men to a hasty mounting, and vowing to strip the skin off her bottom when he caught up with her, he set out for Brantshire galloping at the head of his small squad of men.
Jane in the meantime was whipping Cronken to pieces. She tore half of his left ear away, then crushed his right ear to a jellied pulp. She put out one of his eyes. She whipped his face to gore.
"Time to quit this. I don't want to finish you too quick."
She looped a chain around his ankles and hauled him up off the floor with the use of a pulley. She held his face toward hers, making him look at her with his good eye.
"It's been only an hour, less time than I would have wanted. But I think that I can make you last another hour, you swine. I have something very imaginative in mind for you. I am going to skin you alive, inch by inch."
His dazed eye stared at her without comprehension. She threw water over him to revive him for his further ordeal. There was a steady dripping of blood upon the floor from his broken and gory body.
She grasped his head in one hand and pressed the blade of her knife to his chest. She made a shallow incision from his neck to his groin. Then she cut around the line of blood two circular arcs. Within that area she began, scraping away the skin from his raw flesh an inch at a time. She slowly began to flay him. It was messy work, she was making a botch of it, but that was the way she wanted it anyway. Through the gag he made inhuman sounds. His shattered face implored her for mercy. She ignored him, diligently sawing away at his skin. She began to work her way around him, flaying long strips of skin off of his back. When she began to slice away thin strips of flesh from his buttocks he went into convulsions. His spasms became more violent when she sliced away the burned skin along his spine.
As she flayed away at the butchered thing, revulsion began to break through her blood lust. She could no longer stomach working upon the blood covered thing that was a grotesque parody of a human.
She could not kill him either, she wanted him to suffer some more. She sat down upon a chair to watch him die. She sat there for long, eternally long minutes, watching his life ebb away. Then she felt slimy and ashamed of herself, sitting naked watching the mutilated thing die as if she hoped to achieve an orgasm.
She went into the next room to fetch her clothes. The two women she had saved cowered in dread when she entered the room.
"What have you done?" Barbara's mother asked.
"I fixed him so that he will never trouble another living soul," she answered in a tired, hollow voice.
With the cessation of the butchery the satisfaction of vengeance had drained out of her. All that remained was emptiness and sorrow for the innocence she had lost. She wanted to be away from this place. But she had to go back into the next room.
As she entered the chamber the men of Cronken came bursting in. In her carelessness she had tarried too long. The men had discovered the dead sentry, and were rallying to the aid of their boss. They stopped short, transfixed with horror, when they saw the dead thing hanging in chains. Most of them could not recognize him.
Jane drew her pistols out and fired. One shot went wild and the second drilled a man through the stomach. The firing of the pistols broke them out of their spell. They came at her, the whole pack of them. Jane drew out her sword and slashed at the crowding pack, her dagger in her other hand. She stabbed one man in the guts, and ran a second through the heart. Her blade split another man from scalp to chin. She cut a path to the door through them. As she got out of the front door the street filled with a shouting, screaming mob. A man came bearing down on her from the left side, wielding an axe. She avoided his blow and ran him through.
One of Cronken's helpers was on her heels.
He lunged at her, swinging his club with both hands. She ducked the blow, but he hit her sword and cracked the blade off six inches from the hilt. Cursing her ill fortune Jane thrust the remainder of the sword into his heart. She recoiled from the mob forming around her, threatening them with her knife. They pelted her with stones and clubs. A thrown club hit her on the side of the head, dropping her to her knees. They were on her in a second, wrenching the knife from her slack, numbed hand.
"Kill the bitch."
She was pinned on her back, fists pounding her. A knife was pressed to her throat. As she readied herself for death, a voice of command and authority rang out.
"Hold off. The scum has killed the witchfinder. The way she killed him, she must be the devil's very own daughter. We shall not make the mistake of giving her a pleasant and swift end. Bring her to the pillory."
The man taking command of the mob was one of the foul ones who had summoned Cronken to Brantshire. Now he would avenge the death of the witchfinder.
Jane was dragged through the street, rough hands twisting her arms up behind her back. Her blouse was torn apart, and hands crushed and mauled her spilled out breasts. By the torch light the brand mark on her breast was clearly visible. So were the faint markings left by the whips that had lacerated her boobs.
"The slut bears the mark of lash and branding iron. She must be some sort of escaped felon. Maybe the vixen is a witch."
Jane watched as the two women she had failed to help were dragged out to share her fate. She had little time to speculate on her fate. She was stripped naked by hands that molested and groped every inch of her body. She tried to struggle, but she was slapped and pounded by heavy hands.
"Put her in the stocks."
They put her gorgeous body into the stocks, hands moving everywhere over her smooth satiny skin. One of the surviving guards shoved his club into her cunt and turned it from side to side, trying to rip apart the interior of her sex box.
"Who are you, scum," demanded the leader of the mob.
"Your mother, you bastard," she answered.
A whip slashed into her rump splitting open a deep gash. The whip crashed into her bottom once again, crossing over the first welt.
"That answer is not to our liking."
"It's the only one you shall have from me."
A torch was held close to her face. She braced herself for the searing pain, but the leader pressed it away from her body.
"Too easy for you, slut. We intend to let you wait for it."
He seized the mother of the burned Barbara and shoved her close to Jane.
"Watch what we do to this one and learn that we are not afraid to shed a little blood."
"Please," the woman begged. "I have done nothing, why do you not turn me loose."
The whip coiled around her waist, the tip stroking her gash, splitting the lips and squirting blood from her body. As she staggered away from this vicious treatment one of the men shoved his torch against her ass. She leaped forward howling, her left butt cheek scorched and blistered. One of the men swung his torch against her tit. She sprang away from him, trying to cover herself against the fierce attacks as she begged for mercy.
Jane's heart sank. She recognized the ferocious blood lust aroused in them. She had felt it herself brief minutes ago. They would kill and mangle her without compunction. She winced as rough hands split open her bottom cleavage. One of the men traced the welts on her ass with his fingertips, another pinched and kneaded her nipples. A third parted her pussy lips and shoved his thumbs into her. He mined for the golden nectar of her pussy juice, but could not provoke a flow. In rage he doubled up his fist and tried to force the whole of his huge hand into her. Jane felt the pain and degradation overwhelming her. She experienced once more the horrible, stark fear of being trapped and condemned. She would be tortured to death. Her head swam, dizziness stabbed at her.
"Gut the damn bitch and be done with it."
One of the men she had wounded tried to put his knife into her belly but was stopped by the others.
"Let's not be offering her an easy death."
They concentrated first upon the other two women. The older one was flogged and pelted with rocks. The younger one was spread-eagled upon the ground, the men working at her badly injured body which had been subjected to horrid tortures by Cronken. They spread her legs and fucked her one by one. As they raped her they battered her face with their fists. One of them carved at the soles of her feet with his knife.
Jane struggled in the stocks, but it was useless. The mother of dead Barbara was dragged over to her, bruised and bleeding. "This scum thought that you would save her, did she? Well, kiss her bloody ass for her."
They pressed the whip torn and bleeding mass of rubbery rump flesh into Jane's face. She half smothered as the ass was crushed into her face, until her nose was halfway up the large cavity of the anus.
The whip began to play at Jane's flesh once again. It coiled around her waist, the tip striking a deep chasm over the joggling bulb of her right tit.
"Now put the clubs to her."
Two clubs were rammed into her, one up her ass and one up her snatch. The brutal men began to fuck her with the lengths of hard wood that filled out her two orifices.
Suddenly there was pandemonium and slaughter. Shots rang out and men fell to the ground clutching at wounds. Riders came sweeping up to the stocks, cutting men down with flashing swords.
Jane knew who it was without a doubt.
"William," she screamed. "I'm here. Save me."
Captain Benteen, cursing and raving with hatred, rode through the pack toward her voice. He rode down two men and struck down a third with his sword. His men were slashing and blasting at the panic stricken mob bolting in every direction. Bodies were strewn everywhere.
Benteen stayed his hand as a naked, bloody woman came running past him. He had nearly cut her down as well. He cut his way through toward Jane. A man with a long beard and the clothes of a merchant watched him come on. He turned toward Jane and whipped out his dagger.
"You did this, slut. But I'll see you die before help can reach you."
He was unable to keep his pledge. Benteen split his skull open with one stroke of his saber before the bastard could use his blade.
He dismounted and freed Jane from her bonds. Her naked, luscious form bounded into his arms.
She moved her nipples across his chest.
"What kept you so long," she complained as she gnawed at his ear. "Let's get the hell out of here."
He mounted his stallion and swept her up and across his saddle. He resolved to beat her ass to a bloody pulp if they got out of that fix alive.
"Come on, men. Let's move out of this place. Follow me."
They were not quite finished with the town. As they rode out they threw torches against thatch huts and wooden buildings set close together. Brantshire made an interesting fire when they looked back after having put many miles between themselves and the cursed town.
"I need some clothes," Jane complained.
"I shall give you my cloak and nothing more. You won't be able to bear anything upon that ass of yours for a while anyway, when I finish tanning it for the trouble and blood you've caused today. Your foolishness came close to getting all of us killed."
"You can't beat me after the torture I've undergone, darling. My ass has been hacked up with a whip."
"There is still plenty of firm meat on those bones of yours to take the punishment that you have due."
They rode on for a long time. They rode all the remainder of the night along the road, carrying torches for light. They hid by day when they were twenty miles from the town. The Captain led Jane off a short distance into the woods.
"Do you have to do this?"
"I wouldn't be able to sleep easy if I didn't. For the rest of our journey up north you're going to feel some heat on that bottom of yours. And I intend to spank you every day, three times a day, for a month."
He tied her hands around a tree. He ran his hands over her soft bottom, probing the whip weals inflicted by the Brantshire mob.
"This isn't too bad, just a few gashes on this soft tail of yours."
He began to spank her. She writhed and threshed, but he continued to strike his hands upon the soft globes. A reddish hue spread through her bottom halves which jiggled and bounced under the impact of his striking hands. He spanked her ruthlessly, hitting her with greater and greater force.
"You caused a lot of blood back there and almost lost your own life through your stubborn foolishness. I intend to see that you behave in the future."
He pounded the globes. Back and forth his hands flashed, both hands slamming into her soft bottom. The globes creased and wrinkled under the heavy barrage. She began to purr deep in her throat and to rub her body into the tree. Her breast tips turned iron hard as she ground her orgasming body into the wood.
"Spank me, spank me, oh spank me," she pleaded.
"Gladly, my darling."
He continued to lambaste her bottom cheeks which were soon a dark shade of purple. He pounded and pounded, as she went into wild contortions, shaking and jellying her bottom, rolling her hips and spreading her legs wide so that she could receive the blows of his hands upon the soft flesh along the insides of her thighs. He spread her bottom cheeks apart and slammed the edge of his hand into the cleavage between her buttocks.
"More, more, more."
At last he was finished with the spanking.
"Fuck me," she pleaded, "fuck me up the ass."
He complied with her request. The spanking had heated his blood, he was ablaze and eager to quench his heat in her soft flesh. He pressed her bottom halves apart, feeling the heat pounded into her ass globes turn into his thighs as he mashed his flesh to hers. He pressed his cock against the soft brown puckered ring that guarded the closed passage to her bottom. He entered the back passage, slipping his hard and rigid penis inch by inch up her wiggling ass.
"Fuck me, fuck me."
He shoved it all of the way back into her, running his hands over her smooth, satiny back. He felt his cannon ready to fire inside of her ass hole. His eruption was at hand. Back and forth he plunged, almost out of her and then driving it up into her twisting tail once again.
"Oh, it feels so good."
She experienced one climax after another as he fucked away inside her ass hole. Then his pistol fired, and she felt the warm and sticky come squirt off inside her ass as his prick throbbed and shook.
She collapsed, floating on waves of ecstasy. He untied her from the tree and helped her into her cloak.
"We have to be moving out of here. I want to put a lot of distance between ourselves and Brantwood."
"Nobody will know who did it. They failed to get my name out of me. In any case, once you're back with the army you're safe enough. The men will certainly never talk about what they've done here."
He rubbed her hot rump as they walked back to the waiting men and horses. She was all over him with her hands and mouth, still wild and raunchy. She could not get enough of his ass spanking and fucking at their next layover. In the following month back with the army upon the border she learned obedience and ecstasy at his hand, and the wild pleasure wiped from her mind the last traces of the horrors she had undergone.
