Extract from: A Midsummer Night’s Depravity

 

Gail’s jailers had some fun with her naked body in her cell before they took her to the Inquisitor.

She was bent over at the hips with her torso parallel with the floor and her heavy breasts dangling freely.  Her arms were cuffed behind her at the elbows and wrists and her legs were spread painfully wide, held in place by an iron bar connected the cuffs about her ankles.   Her cuffed wrists were hooked halfway up a heavy chain that dangled from the ceiling on the end of which was a large iron hook that was thrust up into her anus.  It pulled against her taut, straight legs, stretching her anus into a tormented dark oval.  A second lighter chain ran from the back of her collar up to the ceiling chain, holding her head up and pulling against the tension in her twisted shoulders which pushed her torso downwards.

This posture left her totally exposed and helpless, a fact that her jailers took full advantage of.

They were two quite small man dressed in a dark hooded cloaks, britches and high boots.  Gail had a vague feeling that it was not the normal dress of prison warders, but on the other hand they had big bunches of keys hanging from their leather belts and goad sticks, which had metal studded tips.  Yes, they were indisputably her jailers and she had to accept it.

They used the sticks to beat her buttocks and belly and dangling breasts, making them shiver and bounce even as they smacked into them hard enough to leave impressions of the stud patterns in their soft pale globes.  Gail wailed and sobbed and moaned as they beat her, biting on the knotted leather strap that plugged her mouth and stretched her lips and served as a gag as her tears dripped onto the stone floor of her cell.  And yet her nipples stood out in thick, brown stiff cones as though offering themselves as special targets.  When they were struck by the goads they gave like rubber, driving up into the soft pillows of her breasts and then springing back out once again simmering and smarting and dreadfully aroused.

The plump pouch of her sex did not escape the guard’s attention either and they used their goads on it with equal enthusiasm.  Her pliant sex lips were mashed and flattened as the studded tips beat into them.  The shrieks she made when her breasts were beaten seemed mild in comparison to those she let forth when the studded tips hammered into the hard nub of her clitoris.

And yet the terrible goad tips came away sticky and shiny with her juices which were flowing freely around her poor bruised labia and dripped onto the floor to join her tears and dribble.

The smacks and pummels they gave the soft pale moons of her bottom cheeks were merely the latest stages of her ordeal.  By the time they had set her buttocks shivering and quaking, imprinting them with their arrays of stud marks, she was hardly sensible anymore.

Her body hurt abominably, more than anything she could remember since… since for ever.  But then she deserved it.  She had committed a terrible deed…

And then of course, when they had reduced her to a trembling wreck only held upright by her chains, they took full advantage of the wet exposed mouth of her tormented sex.  Although they were small men they were well endowed and she sobbed afresh as their thick shafts took turns entering the ravaged mouth of her vagina and plunged deep into the hot depths of her vaginal sheath, which clenched about them in desperation.  The strength of their thrusts jerked her back and forth in her chains, setting her simmering breasts swaying gently like pendulums.  It was a further gross insult to her body but at least it was not more beating.  So she clung to their penis shafts and tried to please them, snivelling as she did so, hoping desperately that they would think better of her after this and have some pity on her plight.

As their hot seed boiled within her she felt a perverse thrill of joy, knowing at least that she had served some useful purpose.  Perhaps this would go a little way to make amends for her crime.

When they had both taken their pleasure from her, they flushed her soiled pussy out and washed her sore bruised body down with rags and cold water.  Then took out a pot of some pinkish gel and used a brush to paint it over her breasts and buttocks and vulva.  For a few seconds it stung horribly and then, amazingly, her aches and pains faded away.  She could not see her abused flesh with her collar chain pulling her head up but it felt whole and intact once more.

How was this possible?  It was almost magical.  No, how was not important.  All that mattered was that she no longer hurt.  At least for the next few minutes…

‘Now Inquisitor Hawthorne wants to speak to you,’ one of them said grimly.

They unhooked the spreader bar from her ankles and pulled the ceiling chain hook out of her distended anus.  They uncuffed her wrists from it and the chain connected to her collar, which became her leash once again.  With this they led Gail along a corridor of stone flags which seemed have earthen walls and a roof bound in place by the massive tendrils of a tree roots.  Again fleetingly she had the vague feeling that there was something unusual about this place.  What prison was she in…?  But again her mystification melted away.  She had more immediate concerns.

The door at the end of the corridor opened onto the Inquisition room.  There Hawthorne, impassive and sinister in his black hooded robes with a silver buckle on his belt, was waiting for her.  He was standing beside a device which made Gail whimper even as she took it in.

Set on a solid base was a counterweighted, pivoting beam, which could be raised and lowered like the jib of a crane and also be swung about.  Pairs of short iron posts extended from the sides of the beam while from underneath hung many heavy buckled leather straps.  There was also a metal rod that ran up under the beam from its base connected by gears to a crank handle mounted on its side.   The tip of the rod, halfway up the beam, was fitted with a large metal screw head.

Within the beam’s arc of swing three low wooden trays with deep sides, each with a cover over it, were set out on the floor.  But at the moment the pivoting beam arm was positioned vertically with a set of wooden steps placed at its base.

The least intimidating object in the room seemed to be a small round low table on which was carefully set out a screwed-up newspaper, a crumpled cardboard cup and an empty plastic drinks bottle.  Nevertheless, Gail’s eyes shied away from it.

Her guards pushed her down onto her knees in front of Hawthorne and pulled her gag strap out.  Automatically she bent her head and kissed the toecaps of his boots respectfully.   Only then did she look up into his oddly pug-like bearded face with his deep black eyes.

‘Gail Kerwin, are you ready to admit your guilt and face punishment?’  Hawthorne asked her sternly.  He was a little stouter but no taller than her jailers, nevertheless she cringed at his words.  She knew he had absolute power over her.  He could keep her like this, chained and naked, for as long as it took to establish the truth.  Why was she being so foolish?  What last perverse shred of pride or shame was stopping her from admitting the facts and accepting her guilt in full?

‘No, Sir,’ she said in a small voice.

‘Very well then, you’re bringing this on yourself, you know.  Strap her to the dipper!’ he told the guards.

They replaced her gag, pulled her to her feet again and across to the device where they made her mount the steps and stand with her back to the vertical beam.   It had a stuffed leather pad screwed to its middle which pressed into the small of her back.  Straps went across her neck and belly, pulling her against the beam and making her back bow about the pad, pushing her chest, belly and hips out.  They uncuffed her arms only to bend and twist them back at the shoulders, hooking her elbows about a pair of the iron posts that protruded from the sides of the beam.  Then they secured her wrists to cuffs bolted to the beam sides lower down.  The tension on her shoulders pushed her chest even further out, displaying her breasts to the full.  They separated her legs, lifted her feet and pulled them back as well, pressing the backs of her knees against one pair of iron posts and hooking her shins over another pair further down and then cuffing her ankles in place.

Meanwhile Hawthorn had moved round behind the device.  He cranked the handle connected via gears and rods to the metal shaft with the screw tip that now rested between her legs.  It twisted and extended upwards.  Gail whimpered as she fell it begin to penetrate her anus, still loose from the hook that had occupied it earlier.  She felt her sphincter being stretched wide as the terrible thing bored into her for several inches and then stopped.

At the same time the guards had pulled thin leather thongs around from the back of the beam across the outside of her hips.  They had small hooks on their ends.  These they hooked round the thick lips of her sex and then pulled them painfully tight, stretching her labia wide and opening the pink wet gash of her vulva and exposing the bud of her clitoris, the tiny orifice of her urethra and the crinkle-edged mouth of her vagina.

They climbed off the steps and pulled then away, leaving Gail tightly secured to the beam and impaled on the screw rod, with her body bowed outward by the tension of her bonds and the pad in her back.  Hawthorn pulled out the pins that had locked the beam in its vertical position and heaved on the handles bolted to the sides of its counterweight.  The beam dipped forward suddenly and swung about.  Gail whimpered as she now hung beneath it, her breasts dangling, passing over the three covered trays which were now aligned perfectly beneath her body.

‘Undercover the trays,’ Hawthorne commanded the guards. ‘Show her what she’s going to suffer…’

The guards pulled the covers off the big trays and Gail moaned at what she saw.  The first one was filled with short lengths of thick dried bramble stem, bristling with vicious thorns.  The second one was filled with green freshly chopped nettles, while the third was a shallow bed of dark earth filled with squirming fat, pink earthworms.

‘This represents the land which you have abused,’ Hawthorne told her.  ‘It’s only fitting that it should be used to punish you…’

He lifted the counterweight and the arm dropped, slamming Gail into the tray of brambles.  She shrieked about her gag as a hundred thorn tips jabbed into her body from chest to mid thighs.  They stuck in her breasts as they flattened against them, into her smooth stomach and hips and even up into the gaping mouth of her sex mound.

Hawthorn pressed down on the counterweight and the arm lifted, revealing Gail’s body stuck about with dozens of fragments of bramble.  She lost command of her bladder and a stream of pee hissed out of her vulva about the thorn stalk stuck across the mouth of her sex and into the tray below.  As she hung under the beam moaning and sobbing in pain, trembling in her straps, a few of the stems dropped off her shivering breasts back down into the tray leaving rows of stabs and cuts that began to ooze freely.

‘Clean her off,’ Hawthorn commanded the guards. ‘I want her fresh for the next one…’

The guards had besom brooms that they used to brush the thorn stalks off Gail, making her sob and shriek afresh as thorns were roughly scraped out of her flesh.  When they were all gone the front of her body was a mass of ruddy smears and punctures.

Before she could recover, Hawthorn swung the arm about until she hung over the middle tray of green nettles.  Even as her eyes bulged in horror, he dipped Gail into it.  Thousands of tiny nettle stings stabbed into her skin, filling her with their itching, burning poison.  Hawthorn lifted her out of the tray and this time her body was plastered with nettle leaves which looked as though they were stuck to her flesh, even wrapped about her nipples and assailing those patches of skin that the course bramble thorns had missed.  As she hung there her flesh began to blotch red and swell as the poison got to work.

The guards brushed the nettles off her.  The rough twigs of the besom brooms scraping her now doubly abused flesh felt like agony.  A few more fitful dribbles of pee were squeezed out of her.

Hawthorn swung the arm round once more until Gail hung above the tray of earthworms.  Her tear-filled eyes widened in horror and she tried to shake her head and moan and plead for mercy but it was no good.  The arm descended and her simmering, stung and pricked body was ground deep into the soft earth.  She felt the worms’ slimy forms slithering across her front.  Some were driven up into the gaping mouth of her vulva and she could feel them exploring its sticky cavities.  They would wriggle up inside her!

Then she was lifted off the tray again.  A few worms clung to her crimson-streaked, blotched and dirty flesh and were brushed off by the guards’ brooms.   Hawthorn turned the crank handle that drove the anal screw a little further up inside her, making her pussy mouth bulge a little more and open its tender folds slightly wider.  Then she was swung back to the first tray and dropped down into the brambles again…

Thorns, nettles and worms.  One after another she was dumped into them.  And after each cycle she was anally screwed a little deeper, making her blotched and soiled pussy cleft swell and bulge a little more helplessly.

Sharp pain mingled with stinging burning, throbbing pain and the horror of things crawling up inside her.  They filled her mind and overwhelmed her senses.   Her most sensitive flesh suffered the worst.  Her nipples, breasts and labia felt like they had been stabbed and burned and the entire front of her soiled body felt as if it was on fire.   Thorn tips had broken off in her hard throbbing, cherry red nipples.  Fine shreds of nettle leaf clung to the sticky, pee-wet folds of her vulva while adventurous worms dropped out of her gaping vagina mouth.  The land was taking its cruel revenge for her thoughtlessness.

Gail sobbed and bit on her gag strap and shook her head violently.  It was too much to bear!   She could take no more!

Hawthorn pulled the gag out of her mouth.

‘I did it!  I did!’ she wailed.  ‘I dropped that litter in the woods!  I admit it… I’m so sorry!  Please, don’t hurt me anymore!’

Despite the pain that still wracked her body, it felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.  She had confessed at last…

‘Do you accept your punishment now?’  Hawthorn asked.

‘Yes… Sir, yes I do.  I deserve it all!’

‘Are you ready to show your contrition?’

‘Yes Sir… anything.’

Hawthorn locked the beam in this upright position once again, displaying the by now raw front of Gail’s body.   Then he cranked the wheel connected to the anal screw, turning it in reverse and winding the terrible thing back out of Gail’s rectum.  She gave a shudder of relief as she felt the internal pressure draining away inside her, even though her bottom mouth remained gaping unnaturally wide.  The guards moved the set of steps back over in front of it.  Hawthorn went to the evidence table and brought back the items of rubbish.  Climbing onto the steps he held them up in front of Gail’s eyes.

‘You know what I’ve got to do with them?’

‘Yes Sir, please do it, sir…’

He screwed up the paper and stuffed it into her mouth, making her cheeks bulge.  Then he took the cardboard cup and pushed it base first up into her sore and gory vulva, making it bulge even further as it went all the way up into the sheath of her vagina until only its crumpled rim remained visible between the flesh lips of her sex mouth.  The empty plastic bottle went up her rear of course.  Hawthorn pushed it neck first into her anus, taking advantage of the slackness the screw had left.  It crumpled as it was pushed inside her, but it was still a painful object to have inserted and Gail whimpered and bit her lip.  But she made no protest.  This was what she deserved.

When he was done, Hawthorne got down and went behind the frame of the dipping beam to where a lash hung on the hook.  He came back and showed it to Gail.

‘The normal punishment for littering the woods is a dozen strokes,’ he told her.

Gail nodded.  That seemed perfectly proper and correct to her.  Why had she been so foolish in denying had guilt?  For that matter, why she been so foolish in dropping litter in the first place?

Hawthorn stepped back and began to lash her.

The pain of the leather thongs cutting into her flesh was doubled by its already tenderised state.  Hawthorn might be small but he had a strong arm and he used it to its fullest extent, making sure every part of her body received a licking from the hissing, cracking thongs.  As her breasts jumped and stomach clenched and pussy dribbled, Gail wailed and screamed about her gag, filled with misery and regret and sorrow that she’d ever done such a foolish thing.

Gail bit on the wad of paper in her mouth and shrieked until dribble ran down her cheeks and dripped onto the upper slopes of her red raw breasts.  Her vagina clamped about the cardboard cup, crumpling it still further, while the plastic bottle stuffed up her rear cracked and popped as she clenched on it with each lash stroke.  It was only right that these things should add to her torment.

And through her pain and misery for a moment she thought she could hear Hawthorne muttering, ‘This is for all those who despoil our world and all that is best… On this night alone she can suffer for all the rest…’  But the next stroke obliterated her memory of it.

By the time that the twelfth stroke fell Gail was half insensible.   As her chin rested on her chest, through her misty eyes she could see what the inquisitor had done to her.  The front of her body was a ruddy mess of lash strokes, thorn gashes and nettle rash.   Small trickles of scarlet were running into her pubic hair and down her thighs and dripping off the tips of her breasts.  She burned and throbbed and ached.

Hawthorn climbed back up the steps and pulled out the sodden wad of paper from her mouth.  ‘Do you want the pain relieved?  What do you offer in return?’

‘Uhhh… anything, Sir,’ she croaked feebly.  ‘Use me… screw me please… I deserve it… just make it better!’

Hawthorn pulled the cardboard cup from her vagina and plastic bottle from her anus, making her wince as the rough things scraped her tender sheathes.

‘You know what will happen if you ever offend again?’  He said to her

‘I know, Sir.  I never will, Sir.’

The guards came forward with the rag and bucket of cold water and sponged the gore and dirt and nettle spines off her.  The cold water soothed her flesh but the touch of the rag felt like sandpaper to her abused flesh and she snivelled and sobbed afresh.

When they were done Gail looked fearfully down at her body.  It was slightly better with the filth cleared away from it but the lash marks had formed into welts and there were dozens of gashes from the thorns large and small, mingling with the thickly clustered white blobs of nettle rash.  She was such a mess!

Hawthorn climbed back up the steps.  He was holding another pot of the pink ointment and a paint brush.  He painted it across the front of the body dabbing it up under the undercurves of her breasts, into her naval and the folds of her thighs and the gaping mouth of her vulva and even up into the passage of her vagina.  For a few seconds it burned even worse than the nettles had done.  And then wondrously the pain started to fade away.  Because her eyes were still filled with fresh tears she could not quite believe what she saw but it seemed as though her wounds were shrinking and closing up even as she watched.  The unnatural flush was fading from the skin and even the nettle rash was shrinking and melting away.  In a few moments her skin was clear and smooth again.

She did not understand but she felt humbled.  Hawthorn was the master of her pain and pleasure, of suffering and relief.  He might be a small man but what power he had over her!  She was so sorry for the trouble she had caused him and she wanted to make amends.  But all she had to pay with was her body…

Meekly she said, ‘Please screw me, Sir.  Have me anyway you want… I’m all yours!’

Hawthorn tipped the beam right over, locking it in position when it was parallel with the floor so that Gail now lay bound to its upper face, staring up at the dark ceiling.  He moved the set of steps round so he could climb up beside her.  He unhooked the thongs which had held her sex mouth wide open and she shuddered and relief as she felt her lips slowly closing together once again.

Hawthorn opened the front of his britches to expose his manhood which was jutting out stiffly and seemed oversized in comparison to his frame.  Then he clambered on top of Gail and lay between her strapped and bound legs.  His head only came up to her breasts.

She felt his huge cock slide into her pussy mouth and then he began to ride her, pounding into her slot with lusty thrusts and probing it deeper than the cup had gone.  Desperately she clamped her sheath about him, trying to show how pitifully grateful she was for his cruelty and his mercy.  She felt an amazing liquid warmth growing in her loins telling of a fast approaching orgasm.  Was this her reward for admitting her guilt or was it simply proof that she was a miserable masochistic slut?

Then Hawthorn bit on her swollen nipples, making her yelp in pain.

‘Will you ever drop litter in the woods again?’ he demanded fiercely.

‘No, Sir!  I’ll never ever drop litter in the woods again!’ she promised.

And then she came and it was monstrous and then she fainted dead away.