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

He enjoyed watching her strain to take the pressure off her, knowing that she would soon lack the strength to do it and have to give in. For now, though he stopped tickling and moved his hands to her butt to spread it out and force her to take more of the edge - and also to get a good feel of the firm, strong flesh. As he gave them a pull, her buttcheeks easily parted and made her sink a little deeper onto the horse.
 
She felt his hands move, all of a sudden she wanted him to keep on tickling her as she knew what was coming next. Feeling his hands her legs gave out and she sank down. Arching back she groaned as she felt the hardness of the wood digging into her softness. Her legs shaked, they were numb, as we her arms and she leaned her head back breathing hard wincing and screwing her eyes shut as she tried to deal with the pain shooting up from between her legs.
 
This was enough for now. He removed the weight from her legs and let it drop to the ground a short distance, the thud of the stone and the rattling of the chains echoing through the chamber. Then, he climbed the stepladder again and unhooked her hands, but kept the shackles on her wrists.

Offering her his arms to help her climb off the horse, he said: "Sadly, my little horse could not persuade you to tell the truth. Now I have to get serious with you, stupid girl!"
 
As her hands fell down, she fell forward. Barely she felt him pulling her from it. She didnt screamed just moaned as she closed her legs tight feeling the pain throbbing as she was pulled down.

She felt the floor, felt his hands slip from her and curled up tight in a ball. She tried to calm herself but failed too as her whole body throbbed and her eyes got heavy, wanting to close right there, right in the middle of the dungeon.
 
He slapped her in the face and shouted softly: "Don't fall asleep! There is no sleep before your confession!"

He half-carried, half-dragged her over to a low table with chains for the hands and feet, and a thick round piece of wood in the middle, designed to be where her back would end up. It would make sure that her back was properly arched, and her stomach tense. For now, though, he just sat her down at the foot end of the table and got busy with fastening the leg irons on her.
 
She gasped at the stinging slap, her head snapped to the side her hair whipped around, it got caught in her mouth and she felt her cheek throbbing.

She felt herself being sat onto something. She sat there swaying as she felt a hand on her ankle pulling her leg apart, feeling the cold metal snap around it and then she felt her other leg being pulled too. Her face sore she looked up at him feeling her eyes throbbing her whole body aching.

"Do you like this, chaining up your women?" she asked quietly as she felt and heard the other iron snap closed around her ankle leaving her legs spread open.
 
"I can not say that I hate it", he said with a grin as he firmly gripped her delicate wrists and pulled them up to close the chains around them. She was now tied down, arms and legs slightly spread by the chains, with the wooden hump in the middle making her stomach stand out and giving her well-formed breasts more prominence as her whole body arched across the wood.

He retrieved a funnel chained to the head end of the tabe and paused briefly,. holding it over the girl's head.

"This is your last chance to confess for now. With this thing in your mouth, you will not be able to speak for a while, so I advise you to use this opportunity before I help you with your thirst... and then some!"
 
She closed her eyes as she was pulled back feeling the wood press into the small of her back. Looking up at him she saw the funnel, rattling on the chains with her wrists and ankles. Feeling already uncomfortable as the wood pushed into the small of her back.

"Whats that for?" she asked looking up at him.
 
"Water, if you are lucky. Maybe you are thirsty, but I will make you drink so much you will want to never drink anything again. Think about it, bucketsful...bloating you. So, confess now, or open up and receive more water than you will ever need. And do not even think about closing your mouth.", he added icily, brandishing a long pair of tongs in front of her face, clacking it open and shut a few times.
 
The energy drains from her, she looked up at him and saw the evil in her eyes and she knew she would never survive this. Never see her family or friends, this was it for her and fresh tears dripped down her face as she thought this.

With her lips quivering as the stream of tears dripped down through her hair and over her ears. "I confess" she said though her voice almost failed her as the words left her mouth. Her eyes closed as she repeated it.
 
He smiled triumphantly, although a very small part in the back of his mind felt slightly disappointed that his expert use of intimidation would make it unnecessary to actually show her his mastery of this specific method...

His smooth, professional voice showed no sign of that disappointment, though, as he retrieved a parchment and a quill. He had no qualms about using the young woman's slightly stretched stomach as an impromptu desk as he knelt down next to the table she was chained to and placed the writing implements directly on her naked body.

"So, you confess to being a witch? What crimes did you commit at the devil's command?"
 
She felt her body shaking. She opened her eyes blinking, fresh tears slipped from it and then she closed them once more as he spoke.

"Yes. YES. I confess!"

She felt the cool of the parchment on her and looked up opening her eyes she saw him writing on it on her. He spoke once more.

"Crimes???" She lay back down looking once more up at the ceiling "I cast spells and I conjured the dead at the devils command".

Her voice was shaky and she could feel him writing on the paper on her as she spoke.
 
The witchfinder very casually took a seat on his victim's thighs, facing her breasts, which were forced up by the wood under her back and hid her face, from which the answers were now coming freely, if not exactly willingly.

Even though they were slightly strained by her position, her legs made for a soft seat as he casually adjusted his parchment on her stomach and continued the interrogation, deliberately asking many questions at the same time in a harsh, barking tone. He hoped that this would make her less likely to come up with any lies as she struggled to satisfy his demands for information and get released from her predicament.

"When, where and how did you make your pact with the devil? How often and in what way did you have intercourse with the devil?"
 
Looking away from him "He came to me in my bed at night, not every night but at night. I dont know how many times or how often he would come, I would just know when he was there"

She turned looking at him watching him write.

"The first time I was scared, after that I waited and wanted him to come, and when he didnt I would cry myself to sleep"
 
"Good, good"; his tone got softer as he patted his captive on her tense stomach, making a sound like a drum.

His voice harsher again, he continued to ask his barrage of questions: "How often were you at the witches' coven? What happened there, and whom did you see? What damage did your magic do, and where?"
 
Her tears came more and more now.

"I dont know how often, spells were cast. Others were there but I never saw faces. You only ever saw the sacrifices that were brought to us"

She looked up watching him write, "what, you got what you wanted and you are still not happy"
 
"You never saw faces?"; danger was audible in his voice, and the threat of more torture.

He snorted derisively: "Either you are blind, which you are not - yet" (he emphasized this by gripping the pincers again and making a snapping motion towards her eyes) "or you are just committing the sin of lying, for which you will suffer. Which is it?"
 
She turned away from him looking at the walls of the room breathing hard as her back was over the bump in the middle of the table.

"I saw faces, faces like mine, faces like yours, faces like the person I past on the street. There was usually between 10 and 15 there all with sunken eyes all with the haunted look but all just looked like normal people."
 
Her lack of details in the confession was getting him mildly angry, and he decided to exaggerate it for effect: He bent forward so that he could see her face and stared at her, twisting her nipples between his fingertips to add some pain to the show: "Names! I want names! Not some bedtime story!", he snarled at her, punctuating each exclamation with an especially sharp twist of her nipples and an exaggerated slap.
 
Jayne winced screwing her face up letting out a scream as he shouted.

"I dont have names, its not the sort of place where you go around introducing yourself" she cried out as she felt the sting of him slapping her.
 
His (mostly fake) anger having subsided, the Witchfinder continued the interrogation much more calmly, posing question after question again, his hands resting at her hips:

"What damage did your spells do? Did you cause harm to animals, to unborn infants, to the crops on the field?"
 
"Yes!" she was growing impatient with him

"You know what we do, you know how we do it. We wouldnt be here right now if you didnt, now would we?"

She lifted her head to look down at him.
 
She was clearly not scared enough yet. Also, he needed names. So she left him no choice.

Standing up from the bench and taking the funnel again, he announced: "The interrogation is over for now. Until you learn to have more respect and answer the questions you are asked, you will now endure the water torture."
 
"Just as I thought, all you want to do is torture the helpless. You have my confession, now you should cease with the torture."

Her body shook on the table as she watched him grab the funnel and walk over to the table.
 
He shrugged at her protests and simply used the pincers to pinch her nose shut until her mouth dropped open to gasp for air. With a simple, efficient move, he dropped the funnel in and released his grip on her nose, allowing her to breathe again.

He took the bucket and placed it next to his prisoner; he paused briefly to let her take in the situation and to observe if her face showed any fear yet, as it should if she even guessed what was coming.
 
Last edited:
Back
Top