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From the Witchfinder's Files, Tale I: Snake in Chains

He noticed what she was trying to do, but decided against removing her leash, which would have allowed her to take a better position for this. Instead, he simply let her make him harder and harder by rubbing, while at the same time using his hands to massage her breasts, paying special attention to the nipples, which he carefully rubbed erect with his fingertips in slow, deliberate circular motions.
 
Phyliss

She kept in the position, holding on his shoulders, while she used her movable hip to rub his cock that pressed against her wet crotch. She started to nibble t his face, her mouth touching his lower lip, sucking at it, then she tipped her tongue against his skin again, trying her best to smooth him.
 
Just the rubbing was eventually enough to send him into convulsions of lust, covering her stomach in long squirts of semen as he grunted in pleasure.

With a satisfied grin, he loosened his grip somewhat and gave her a genuinely thankful kiss, panting and sweating from this pleasurable, but very exhausting dance she had been performing on him.

"You have proven yourself worthy of living", he announced overly formally, trying to reassert some of the authority he felt he had lost by allowing a witch, a demon, a prisoner, to bring him to climax.
 
Phyliss
"I did? What will you do with me now?" she asked ina frigthend voice. With her snakes so close to him, she ws still able to kill him, ifeverything should fail.
 
He took a step back and then, after enjoying the view for a moment, put on his clothing again.

Now fully clothed, he sounded much more formal as he pronounced the sentence: "You are hereby sentenced to stand in the pillory for a full week, receiving whatever punishment the court sees fit to administer. Following this, you will be whipped out of town, never to return, on pain of death. Do you understand?"
 
Phyliss

"A whole week?...I will starve..." she thought a moment; they would not let her starve before getting the full punishment.
"What punish will they put at me? I'm frightened...."
She didn't have to lie in that point.
 
"A week, yes. I will not tell you what your punishments will be, and the only promise I can make is that you will survive. As for starving, you will be surprised how long you can do without food..."

He unhooked her chain from the wall and led her to the niche with the grating again, opening the door for her. Here, she would stay for about three days while he set everything up. The guards would be instructed to supply her with plenty of water, but no food, and to keep a guard around her at all times, to keep her from sleeping. While these two instructions would make the next three days a living hell for her, they were mostly a safety measure: He did not know what powers she would regain once outside the protective blessings, but a hungry and tired demon was almost certainly less of a threat than a well-rested one.
 
Phyliss

The gorgon sat down, deeply depressed, frightened and hungry. Could she really stand that long? But she knew to well that begging would not soften the guards, so all she could do was wait.
 
The Witchfinder locked the door and went upstairs. The next three days, he left his prisoner alone with her fears, her hunger and the constant attention of the guards, who would use anything from noise to quick jabs with pointed sticks to rob her of as much sleep as possible. An unfortunate precaution, really...

In the meantime, the pillory and a host of other instruments required his attention, with him supervising the repairs. He wanted all of them in the best condition when the people got to see his star prisoner. They were already slightly disappointed at his announcement that any attempt by the crowd to harm her would be severely punished, so they expected him to harm her, and they would not be disappointed.
 
Phyliss

The gorgon leaned at the wall, to weak to really fight or even get excited by the guards. Although her injuries were much better now, even without magic healing, the lack of food and sleep already broke her. How should she stand a week. He said she would live, but she doubted that he was serious. How could she survive, even without any further torture?
 
After three days, the Witchfinder returned to that niche in the wall. He stopped and had a good look at his captive, trying to gauge how weakened she had become by three days of starvation and sleep deprivation. He was very serious about letting her live, and stood in front of the gate pensively for a long time. How much would she be able to take? He hated to break the promise he had made, so he wanted to make absolutely sure.
 
Phyliss

Still blindolded, she heard him enter. She felt so weak, that she didn't had to much to act to appear broken and close to collaps. She made a weak, whimpering sound. Although she was frighened of what was to come, she hoped it would be soon, so that she did have a chance to survive it.
 
She was so weak and small in front of him. Thin, worn, pitiful. He almost did take pity on her, but eventually, he just took her wrists and wrapped a rough, thick rope around them several times, while running his hands over her ribcage. Maybe he was just imagining it, but thought he could already feel the effects of the hunger she had been forced to endure for three days, and would continue to endure...

He gave a tug on the rope to make her stand up.
 
Phyliss

She did stand up, as she felt him pulling at her wrists. She followed him, wherever he took her. Nevertheless, she was still awake enough to care for sounds and the feeling on her nude feet. It would be useful to guess where she was, if she had enough power left to act.
 
As he opened the gate, a rather dense crowd was lining the streets, barely held back by the guards. There was mostly a curious silence, although some taunts and whistles could be heard as the naked, starved body of his prisoner became visible in the glaring sunlight. She looked even paler here in the bright light than down in the dungeon...

He led her up to the scaffold, where a selection of devices had been prepared for the punishment, and stopped for a moment to allow the crowd to get a good look at her.
 
Phyliss

She could not see where she was or what was going on, but she heard that awful crowd of villians. She had been frightened since her arrest, but now she was really fearful. Even her cruel tormentor made her feel less alone, so that she nearly was about to snuggle against him. But she felt some of her magic power creeping back into her. She did not show this, but at least she would be able to heal herself.
 
It was easy to grab her bony neck and bend it down into the waiting hole of the pillory. A quick cut and some grips later, and her hands were similarly caught in two smaller holes. As the heavy board snapped shut around her, she was now securely exposed to everyone.

Her breasts hung down almost vertically, behind which her legs had to deal with the strain of this fairly uncomfortable position. The face, which would have probably terrified the people had she still been strong, now showed defeat and submission. The punishment could begin.
 
Phyliss

A startled whine escaped her mouth as she was put into the stocks. Now she was helpless. If her blindfold had been off, she could turn at least some people to stone, and anyone close would have been in range of her snakes. But sucha ctions would be stupid, as she would not have been able to free herself from that stock. She wondered if the magic, she felt streaming back, was strong enough yet to activate her magic shields. But she would not try to do that to early, as it would raise suspicion, and she could not risk that before she had her power back.
 
The Witchfinder rattled off his captive's crimes, but from the looks of the crowd, they were just as uninterested as he was. All their looks were pinned on the body, paler and thinner and slightly injured, but still highly alluring, and the strange face, of the prisoner.

When he was finally done, he took the first instrument of punishment. With a theatrical gesture, he held it high: A flogger made from five chains on a wooden handle, with a hook at the end of each chain. He slowly lowered the chains onto her back, so that she could feel the vicious claws that were about to bite into her back.
 
Phyliss

Phyliss wimpered, as she felt the cold metal touch her soft skin, her full, soft lips trembled. She didn't cry - yet.
 
Another theatrical flourish. A gasp from the crowd, both in anticipation and in horror at the violence to follow. The chains made a rushing sound as they flew through the air in a high arc and came down hard on the pale back presented helplessly in front of him.
 
Phyliss

The gorgon screamed as the terrible instrument hit her rounded behind. Feeling the sharp pain, she had the urge to heal the injury at once, but she did nopt. She knew that she had to hide her regaining audience, even if this meant more pain.
 
The next hits came more quickly, and bit into her back farther up, in a regular cross pattern which soon left her entire skin there marked with deep, thin red lines. Hit and scream, hit and scream, while red droplets flew through the air and the body in front of him wriggled desperately in the wooden restraints.

He stopped for a moment to survey his work and clean the blood of the instruments, then used long tongs to take the next instrument: A bowl of hot coals. She could not see it, but he made sure to hold it close enough to her back that she could feel the heat.
 
Phyliss

Tears were running down her beautiful face, while she screamed under each bash. She shrieked, as she felt the heat behind her. "Please, please don't do that to me..." she begged in a tearful voice.
 
He ignored the pleas and placed the bowl on the fresh red stripes across her trembling back. Her skin hissed, smoked and smelled terrible as he moved around the scalding metal, burning her wounds shut but sending her into convulsions of agony.
 
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