From the Witchfinder's Files, Tale II: The Innocent Malice

Knightmare27

Literotica Guru
Joined
Jun 16, 2011
Posts
1,826
To Brother Medardus, better known in fearfully hushed tones as The Witchfinder, this looked like a routine case. Then again, routine cases were often the hardest to crack...

As always, two guards had escorted the accused into the court chamber above the dungeon where he sat at a dark oaken desk, with his head strategically hidden by the deep cowl. He knew how important first impressions were, and he wanted them to be absolutely terrifying.

This one looked terrified enough already, the thought. Quite young. Large, dark eyes. Long, slightly disheveled black hair. She was wearing a long, white-and-green garment, the intricate embroideries on it clearly showing that she was a member of the wealthier classes.

This girl should not be used to pain and fear, but his experience cautioned him not too assume too much.

"The court is now in session. Accused, state your name and your profession."
 
She cowered in the corner as the two guards came into her cell. Very shortly she found her hands bound tightly with rope that grazed and scrated at her wrists and she was dragged out.

Others stared at her as she was brought up from the cell she had been held in. She looked all around as she was brought up into the larger room and then her eyes fixed on the man sat behind the desk.

She stared as he spoke and kept eye contact with him as she felt the guards pull on the ropes that held her wrists tightly together.

"Jayne Alice Young. Midwife"

Her words soft not even blinking as she watched the man behind the desk.
 
She was being surprisingly strong, this girl. Not quite as spoiled and soft as she looked. In fact, it almost impressed the Witchfinder how she looked at him without blinking or flinching and spoke without hesitation. Now, was this real or just a facade? He knew how to find out...

He made a big show of getting out his parchment and a quill pen, letting Jayne's situation sink in, giving her time to worry. "You are accused of witchcraft and of having been in league with the devil. This is a most despicable crime, and I call on you, for the good of your own soul, to answer these questions truthfully."

He got up from his desk, head still hidden in the cowl, and walked towards the prisoner, asking his questions in a calm, but icy cold voice:

"When did the devil first appear to you?"

"Did you sleep with the devil?"

"What name did the devil use? What did he look like?"
 
She fought the urge to flinch as he moved. As he moved around the desk her eyes followed him. She kept calm as he rounded the desk and approached her, never once breaking eye contact she looked right into the cowl into the darkness knowing his face was there and that he could see her looking right at him.

She was still and calm as he spoke as he questioned her. Blinking only once before replying:

"I only saw the devil for the first time today, it stands before me now."
 
The midwife's incredibly insolent reply made anger well up in Medardus, and he reached out to throw back her head covering. He leaned in as close as he could and gripped her jaw - lightly, but with determination - with one gloved hand.

It took some restraint, but he managed to retain the same calm sound in his voice as he answered her: "Do not think I have not heard your brood curse and blaspheme in the worst possible ways. In the end, all lies will come to the light, whether through your own conscience or through the purifying fire of the torture. So, I ask again: When did you first meet the devil? Did you sleep with the devil?"
 
She couldnt stop the flinch as he reached out, she felt her hood pushed back and her eyes watered a little from the grip he took on her jaw.

There was no pain though she felt his stern grip and kept her eyes fixed on the darkness between his cowl. She swallowed hard as he questioned her again:

"Never have I slept with the devil"

She spoke almost whispering looking straight at him, her eyes piercing through the darkness his cowl created.
 
She could not see him smile under his hood, but the Witchfinder's face did show a little triumph at having chastised her for this outburst. Now it was time to be "gentle" again.

He loosened his grip on her jaw and took a step back before continuing, in a much warmer voice: "My child, you know that the Church does not look kindly on liars. Lying, especially about such grave sins as you committed, will damn your soul to hell. And, more to the point, you know very well that the use of the sharpest forms of torture is authorized against witches. Keep this in mind as I ask you a third and last time: Did you sleep with the devil?"
 
She seemed to breathe a little easier as she felt his gloved hand slip from her. Even as he stepped back she never once took her eyes off of him. For the first time she raised her voice:

"Neither am I a witch nor have I slept with the devil"

She proclaimed pulling on her wrists though she felt the rope tighten around her and rub more against her already scratched skin.
 
The sigh Medardus gave at her obstinacy was half genuine. She seemed like such a nice girl, but she had a hard head which would yet cause her pain both in the dungeon and in hell... she could hardly imagine how much!

Maybe a stronger tone was in order. The steel returned to his voice as he hissed "Do not think we can not do much much worse, you stupid, disrespectful girl! I give you one last chance to tell me all about your crimes! If you refuse, I will have you taken to the torture chamber, and you will scream for hours!"
 
For the first time she looked away from him. She looked around the room, she tried to walk but the guards holding the rope pulled her back in place. Shouting for the first time since she was brought here:

"I am innocent. Just an innocent girl, please dont let THIS man do what he wants. This man IS the devil himself!"
 
The Witchfinder grinned under his hood at this sudden expression of panic, at her tugging at the ropes, at the screaming. Excellent! Finally, he had managed to make her properly afraid of him! Off to work!

A simple nod to the guards was enough. They unlocked a small, wooden door with a grate, almost hidden and so high that the tall monk had to stoop slightly. He walked behind them as they dragged the screaming girl down to the torture chamber, her desperate cries echoing off the bare stone walls of the stairway.
 
She tried to pull back but she was only small and she felt herself being dragged. Seeing the wooden door she let her head fall back and she screamed looking up at the ceiling as they dragged her towards the now open door that had appeared in the corner of the room:

"Noooooo, dont let the devil take me"

Suddenly her screams started to echo all around her as they stepped out of the large room and into the narrow hallway. She tried to stop but the guard behind her simply pushed her forward and she felt the cold of the stone floor beneath her bare feet.
 
With experienced grips, the guards secured the rope around the struggling girl's hands to a waist-high iron ring in the torture chamber's walls. It took them some strength, but their movements showed that they had already dealt with much larger, much angrier prisoners. Having done their task, the guards retreated to the torture chamber door and stood at attention.

The Witchfinder, meanwhile, simply walked around the torture chamber, calmly lighting the many oil lamps inside, seemingly unconcerned with the panicking witch. He wanted to let her exhaust herself. Calm down. Then he just would let the situation sink in and wait for that panic to turn to cold fear. It always did, eventually.
 
Last edited:
She was pushed over to the wall and held there, she could hear the metal clinking against the stone wall and when they stepped away from her she tried to pull on the rope but all she heard was more clinking of the metal on the stone.

Breathing hard she watched as both of the guards stepped away from her and walked across the room and left. As soon as they were out of sight her eyes went back to him and she followed him around the room watching as she lit lamp after lamp around the room.
 
Now that an eerie orange-red glow threw all the chains, spikes and other instruments of malice into sharp relief, the monk just as calmly as before walked over to his prisoner, who had already calmed down tremendously and was simply watching him.

He made mocking soothing voices as he touched her hands, gripping them hard enough to keep her from struggling. "You have brought this upon yourself, stupid girl. However, I want to show you mercy: Confess now, and you avoid both the pain I will inflict on you and the pain of hell after the fire has purified you."
 
She froze at his touch:

"I have done no such thing and you this to be true. Call yourself a witchhunter, you just grab any poor girl off the street and parade her in here. You will do to me what you want anyway, hiding behind that cloak of yours, even too afraid to show a poor innocent girl like me your face."

She spoke calmly and speedily breathing a little harder from the touch of his she felt her chest rising more and more with each breathe and she could smell the damp from the room all around her mixed with the crackling of the flames that were used to light it up.
 
Still stubborn! The little idiot! It was time to give her a real scare...

Medardus retreated into the dark recesses of the chamber and returned holding an odd instrument of metal between the fingers of his right hand. He held it very close to Jayne's face so that she could take in all the details, marvel at its cruel efficiency.

The instrument looked like two flat, ridged bars of iron, connected by a screw mechanism. "The thumbscrews", the Witchfinder explained, "the most harmless of the tortures I can apply to you."

Demonstrating the mechanism by which the screw made the bars come closer together, he continued: "I will place your thumbs here where it is ridged, so it gets a good grip. Then, slowly, inch by inch, I screw the bars together, until your thumbs turn into mush. Think. Is your lie worth that much to you?"
 
For the first time she felt a little fear though her gaze never left him.

"You dont care if I am lying or telling the truth, you will do this anyway. You did it all to the last girl and I am sure there will be others. Preying on the souls of the innocents that what you are doing."
 
Medardus shook his head under the cowl. Not even this had broken her will to throw her senseless accusations at him! He now had no choice. And frankly, he was looking forward to it, too. She had a wonderful body, and her feistiness intrigued him.

He turned to the door with the guards waiting just outside and barked his next orders: "Guards! Strip and blindfold the prisoner! Then you are excused and may leave!"
 
She saw the door open once more and the two return. She stood straight back against the stone wall as they walked over towards her but then her gaze returned back to the man in the cowl:

"The devil will sleep with me tonight whether I want it or not" she hissed and screamed as she felt the hands of the guards push her back against the cold stone wall.
 
Medardus watched the guards fight the prisoner to tear her clothes off. She was incredible! In some parts, they were forced to use knives and cut through the cloth since she was struggling too hard. She was pressed against the dungeon wall, invisible behind the two burly guards. They were so much larger than her, and it took them this long to strip her! Amazing...

The Witchfinder did not show his amazement, however. He stood and watched as the screaming, struggling girl lost layer upon layer of her clothing, and a bit of skin as she rubbed against the rough stone walls.
 
She tried to push against them as much as she could, but even one of there hands holding her against the wall had her pinned. She heard the tearing of cloth, she heard the slicing of it with the knife and she felt it piece by piece fall from her her skin suddenly feeling the cool air from the damp room she was in.

She knew he was standing there watching she tried not to let it show the pain that was shooting through her each time the bare skin of her back rubbed against the wall and her breathing started to get more and more rapid.

Eventually they stepped back kicking away the remnants of her clothes to one side, already she was shivering from the cold air in the room and she was once more staring right at him.
 
The guards, visibly exhausted from the struggle, finally grabbed one of the rags, roughly pulled it around Jayne's head and knotted it (he could see they were pulling especially hard; the struggle had made them angry). Then, they left, letting the chamber door fall shut with a loud thud.

The Witchfinder took a good look at his young prisoner. Every inch of her body was as pretty as her face! Silken skin, large well-rounded breasts and strong, slender legs and arms. A feast for the eyes, and a real shame that he had to destroy it now... but work was work!

He threw off his cloak and took off his gloves. He never did that upstairs, but down here, he needed the extra mobility, and the mystery was preserved because hardly anyone ever left his dungeon alive anyway.

Anyone who had expected a monster or a madman under the robes would have been disappointed: Now standing there in a simple brown tunic and coarse linen trousers was a tall, thin older man with short white hair. He looked almost grandfatherly, if not for the steely, penetrating gaze of his grey eyes.
 
"Dont want me to see what the devil looks like"

She said through the cloth. She sensed the guards had moved away and heard the door close knowing it was just her and him again"

"The devil doesnt like to be seen doees he"

Even though no one could see it she heard his clothes fall to the floor the stone room echoing even the slightest of sound. She didnt know if he was near to her but she kicked out one foot and laughed, even her muffled own laugh echoing in the stone room.
 
Was she going mad? She was not insulting him anymore. It sounded like mad babble instead...

He walked over to the iron ring and opened the knot, then took the rope into his right hand. With his left hand, he stroked her arm, feeling her soft skin and a slight clamminess, no doubt brought on by the cold dungeon air and her fear.

"Come", he said to his young captive in a mocking grandfatherly tone, "Those who do not want to hear must feel, as the old saying goes. I will lead you around and show you some of the instruments I am going to use on you. And remember: If at any time you want mercy, you merely have to let go of that stubborn little lie of yours."
 
Back
Top