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Chapter 8 - Under the Heel
Kayleen's whimpering and sobbing echoed in the vast chamber. She stood astride
a wooden rail, her slightly spread ankles cuffed to rings in the floor to
prevent her from closing them, her arms bent behind her back in a reverse
prayer position. The rail was high enough that she had to stand on the balls
of her feet, otherwise her entire body weight rested on the wooden edge of the
wedge shaped rail, grinding into her martyrized feminine parts.
Her supple legs, however, were no longer the coiled springs that she had
danced upon across many a battlefield; they had been turned to worn bundles of
dull ache and throbbing pain by the unrelenting assaults on her muscles,
ligaments and joints. Her groin was a smattering of angry burns and encrusted
blood from multiple wounds; some bled again, reopened by the cruel edge, but
the blood on the rail also trickled from her ravaged innards.
She had been wounded in the past, even badly cut, and her body had proved its
exceptional ability to recover more than once, but the uninterrupted torments
and the lack of rest had finally taken its toll. Her whole body was on fire
from the burns sustained during the unmerciful cauterization of her wounds by
hot copper. She would never be her former self again, even if by a miracle
Lyral would use her healing powers to mend her wounds, as she used to.
The Warrior Queen owed her life to the young priestess, who had placed her
powers at her disposal in the struggle to overthrow Zhorun in spite of her
order's disapproval. She would still lay down her life to shield her from any
harm, and in fact was doing just that, one torment at a time, but she dreaded
the day when her will would break.
Zhorun had ordered her gag removed, apparently interested in clearly listening
to words that she was not aware of uttering at the height of her torments, and
she knew what this would mean on the long run. Word by word, the wizard would
piece together the information he needed, her will unable to prevent herself
from caving in to her tormentors in a foolish attempt to end the pain. Or
maybe it was just that whatever she said, they paused to listen.
She jerked and sobbed at the footsteps, whimpering "They cannot be already
here. Please." Kayleen sought within herself the resolve to deny her
tormentors the pleasure of hearing her scream, but she had to bend her head as
she found only dread and despair.
The fact that Grod was first no longer meant anything to either of them, and
the burly executioner tightened the collar before moving behind her back,
freeing her arms and cuffing her at the elbows and wrists. He freed her left
leg, brought it over the rail and then cuffed her ankles to a short chain,
forcing her to walk in wobbling steps up to a dangling chain.
A knot formed in her stomach when the chain was tied to her wrists and pulled
up, her arms painfully bending in their sockets and her shoulder blades pushed
against each other as she had to stand on her tiptoes, her arms already in
pain and a low moan on her parched lips. As her tormentor bid his time, the
pain in her arm sockets, which had already been dislocated more than once on
the cross rack, mounted unrelentingly, and her moan rose to a fitful cry.
With a pull, Grod lifted her off the floor, her feet kicking in mid air in a
vain attempt to ease the traction on her shoulder joints. Needles of fire shot
through her strained muscles and she screamed, over and over, as the agony
raced through her already martyrized limbs.
Kayleen sobbed and screamed, already out of her mind with pain, but all Grod
did for a long time was watch her suffer. Then he moved besides her and yanked
the short chain connecting her ankle cuffs, releasing it immediately as her
screams rose to new heights. He then pulled it sideways, so that upon release
her stretched body started swinging.
New screams rose in rhythm with the swinging, as her twisted arms were pulled
upon at both ends of each swing. The sheen of perspiration already covered her
marked body, but her delightful silhouette still offered a lustful sight as
she swung back and forth in pain.
When he moved to yank the chain again, she screamed "Pl.." but bit savagely
on the "..ease" remembering how he had burned and raped her. There would be no
mercy, there had never been any. She started swinging again, tears mixing
with sweat on her contorted face as new screams escaped her lips.
After dozens of swings, Grod caught her left foot, tied a cord around the toe
and then hung a hefty lead weight on it. She attempted to kick him, but each
movement brought new agonies into her shoulders and she failed. When he let
the weight fall, a howl erupted from her lips, followed by gasping cries as
the pull added to the misery of her shoulders and rekindled the agonies of
racking in the strained muscles of her legs.
After listening to her cries at length, he moved to her other foot, tied a
cord around her big toe and moved the weight, avoiding a reckless kick which
wrenched a new scream as she oscillated in vain. Just hanging by her wrists
was agony for Kayleen, but each time he moved the weight to the other foot her
once strong body contorted and jerked in a vain attempt to relieve the
suffering in her arms and shoulders, bringing fresh screams to her lips.
When he left, she had been hanging long enough to hope that it would be over,
that the next tormentor would take his turn, but he was soon back, with the
bullwhip in hand. Her mind went back to the first day of her ordeal, when he
had whipped her naked with the long, heavy whip, trembling at the thought of
the havoc it would wreak now on her agonizing body.
Her fears materialized when the whip slashed across her calves, leaving a thin
bloody stripe which blazed in her mind like a white hot flame, her shrill cry
followed by a gasp and an agonized scream as the movement of her legs in
response to the lash sent the weight swinging, a pendulum of pain off her toe
whose pulls reverberated through her whole body up to her suffering shoulders,
each wrenching a new scream from her parched throat.
Long pauses followed each subsequent lash, during which the weight was allowed
to spend its momentum on her stretched body as hoarse screams punctuated each
swing, except when he lashed out at her breasts, tracing bloody stripes on the
firm flesh for no apparent purpose.
As the stripes accumulated on her body, she was lowered just enough to allow
the bleeding wounds to be summarily treated; she tried to turn her head to
avoid drinking from the jug, but his strong hands pinched her nose and she was
forced to quaff the contents again.
When he pulled her up again, he did not stop a few inches off the floor as
before, but pulled her a dozen feet in the air. The dull pain in her shoulders
was the same, but the reason was soon clear as the chain was suddenly released
and immediately pulled, her full weight yanking at her tormented shoulders in
a searing flame of renewed agony.
The longer the fall, the harder she was pulled when it was stopped, the risk
of dislocation very real when the fall was prolonged. She cried in despair
when she was pulled all the way up again, the harbinger of more suffering to
come, a cry she would utter again and again as he reiterated the devastating
drops, interspersed with further lashing of her breasts.
With blood dripping from her chest, she was raised again and dropped a short
distance. As an anguished cry erupted from her lips, she was immediately
dropped again, and she couldn't even catch her breath for a scream before the
chain was loosened and refastened again, the start of a staggered descent to
hell which rattled her savaged joints uninterruptedly until she stopped a few
inches off the floor, her wheezing screams mounting into a single howl as the
accumulated agony found its release.
If hell had stairs, she was descending them ramp by ramp. Few words has
escaped her lips among the screams, but as she was hoisted up again a few did,
bringing Zhorun closer. She was let down again, a rag doll bouncing down a
trail of pain, and again her whispered words brought her the briefest of
pauses. As much as her weakened will attempted to suppress them, the maddened
animal within her had found in them a way to find some respite.
On the next hoist she managed to stifle most of them, but this did not help
her as she was jarred to the bone on the subsequent staggered descent,
screaming in hoarse despair as the pain blanked her mind again without
bringing the craven respite of unconsciousness. Her arms had turned to fiery
bundles of molten agony, her elbows she could no longer feel, her shoulders
felt like pierced by thousands of white hot needles.
She screamed when the whip landed on her breasts, for no apparent reason, just
before she was hoisted up again. A word, maybe two, escaped between her sobs
before her subsequent descent drowned them in fitful screams. She lost count
of how many times this was repeated, her teary eyes mostly closed to shut off
the horrific sight of her bleeding chest and swollen shoulders, the latter
probably already dislocated beyond repair.
When he hung the weight to her left toe, Kayleen knew that if they were not
already, they would soon be. Unbelievable as it was, her next descent brought
new agonies, the sharper pain lasting longer as the weight swung below her and
then recurring on each swing of the weight below her. She screamed herself
hoarse, her vocal cords burning but not lost yet, a perverse joke of fate
considering that speechlessness might bring her the respite she craved.
No such luck befell her, however, as the occasional whipping of the breasts
punctuated the repeated hoisting and staggered dropping, a rag doll jerking
down the stairs of hell. Hoarse screams turned to wheezing howls, but like her
vocal cords her will endured without breaking.
When the lash savaged her tits and she barely jerked, she was lowered and
treated, including being force fed again, so at last she understood why he did
that. But this brought only a brief respite, because he fetched two ominous
iron vices and tightened them onto her shoulders, the jaws digging in the torn
muscles around the joint, and then tied each with chain to the opposing ankle,
pulling her legs up behind her and shortening the chain until she was
painfully bent, shivering from dread, exhaustion and pain.
She was hoisted up and dropped again, each stop along the way causing her legs
to pull on the vices and wreak havoc on her strained shoulder muscles,
pinching and twisting them as they were yanked under her own weight. It was
like Grod's hands straining her thigh muscles on the rack, but with inhuman
speed and unrelenting cruelty.
The pain did not subside after the final yank, the vices searing her with
white hot agony, and this told her that her shoulders had been dislocated and
she was hanging by her ligaments. She sank to new depths of horror when, in
spite of that, she was hoisted up again. She knew enough anatomy to tell that
she was now a cripple, and as her ligaments and subsequently her muscles tore
under the repeated yanking of her own weight, she would die an agonizing death
or survive as a freak.
He looked at Grod, attempting to look him in the eyes, but she found only
steely determination there. She was hoisted up, the pain much worse than
before and hearing her ligaments tear in spite of her desperate screams, and
she was about to shout "Enough!" but she lacked the breath and was dropped
again, a veritable hell blazing through her shoulders on her howling descent
into maddened agony.
She was spent, and as Grod came close opened her parched lips to speak, but he
just inspected the vices and forcibly reduced first one and then the next
shoulder into their sockets, helped by the adeptly positioned vices whose real
purpose was thus revealed, ignoring her cries and the horror on her face as he
moved back to the chain and hoisted her up again.
The subsequent descent was again a dive into unquenched agony, and the cycle
of hoisting and dropping repeated a few times before her shoulders dislocated
again. She was beyond herself, unable to think coherently, unable to react,
unable to tell them what they wanted to know, When he reduced her dislocated
shoulders once again, her scream rose momentarily, then wailed to a wheeze.
When he hoisted her again, her worn voice only managed a wheezing moan of
utter despair, her shoulders already hurting as if about to dislocate under
her own weight. When her fitful descent lent her screams new wind, the pain
returned to unbearable levels but somehow her shoulders held out. The whip
found her breasts again, but she barely whimpered, and Grod let her down on
the floor in a sobbing heap.
He knelt beside her, sensing her shoulders, and whispered, "You won't last
much longer, girl. Trust me, you've held out longer than anyone else in my
experience, but you're about to break. Talk while you can."
Her shoulders, her breasts, her private parts still smarting from a night on
the wooden rail, all screamed at her to talk, but something in her still
clung to her former pride and her dedication. She was not ready to give up
her frail friend, her people and everything she valued to a wizard returned
from the grave.
"You don't understand, my friend. She likes it." uttered the Southerner, eager
to get started. Grod rose and left, leaving her to the swarthy old man. He
offered her the jug, and the taste was different today, bitter and yet
reinvigorating. He did not free her wrists, but cuffed her ankles to rings set
in the stone floor, spreading her legs wide, then studied the cranks at length
before hoisting her up again, her screams resuming although her body now
sloped towards the floor instead of hanging vertically. Her tormentor verified
to his satisfaction that a staggered descent still wrenched a sequel of
screams from the helpless victim, then positioned between her legs.
His hands closed on her ass cheeks and spread them, her mouth forming a mute
"No" before he thrust into her, and his pushes rekindled the pain in her
shoulders as she swung from her arms in rhythm with his rutting lust, crying
and sobbing in pain and humiliation.
Once sated, he fetched a tray where many legged things wriggled in small
jugs, and showed her, saying "I have a number of old and new friends to keep
you company, until this old man gets ready to pull a stunt again." She closed
her teary eyes, wishing the critters would go away, but opened them again when
the sting of a wasp on her nipple made her cry in surprise.
"You knew that." he said matter of factly. With consummate ability he fetched
a spider like the one he had already used on her and brought it against her
other nipple, and savored the stiffening of her body in a hoarse scream as she
was bitten.
"That was better," he commented, "but this one is better still." he added
triumphantly as he fetched a writhing legged horror four inches long and
touched it to her left breast, until the irritated critter sank its mandibles
into her flesh, wrenching from her a hoarse scream which rose as she twitched
and buckled, rattling the chain holding her tortured arms.
He opened his robe to expose his member and positioned before her, saying "Now
we play a game, Whore Queen. If you swallow this gag here," at which he
produced the spidery steel gag Zhorun had wanted removed, "to help it fit, I
will have to put aside our legged friend there." he added, dangling the
centipede before her horrified eyes.
She shook her head in refusal, but the movement soon turned into a spasm of
agony as the creature was brought to bite her other breast, her howl on par
of the previous and the harbinger of others to come, as he brought the hellish
jaws to bear onto her belly, armpits and back, from her shoulder blades down.
They rose higher when he moved to her breasts again.
In spite of what was about to happen, she shook her head in refusal when he
brought the jaws onto her nipple, and then almost snapped her neck when the
bite seared through her jerking body as the jaws closed on the delicate flesh.
Frustrated, he fetched a fresh specimen and brought it to bite her other
nipple, shaking the gag at her as she convulsed in pain. Her head still
shaking, she managed to thwart his attempts to force the gag down her throat,
but at the price of hellish bites on her nipples, which were swelling from the
venom of so many bites.
"I'll make you beg for it, bitch." he snared, and moved between her legs
again, aroused by her screams, and violated her in a fit of lustful rage,
savaging her wounded love channel and pushing into her with the same rutting
hatred that he had used to bugger her before, her screams owing as much to her
violation as to the renewed pain from her bent arms.
When the Southerner moved to tighten her collar, an evil grin came to his face
as he brought the horror to bite her nipple again, and as she convulsed on the
verge of asphyxiation managed to force the gag into her mouth. Satisfied, he
loosened the collar again and pushed his member into her mouth, but being
spent he pulled out after a short time, reveling in her humiliation. He
tightened her collar again to change her restraints, dragging her to a bench
where her wrists were fastened to a winch and her legs spread painfully wide.
He produced a pair of clasps which he closed to her nipples and fastened using
fine chains to a pulley from the ceiling, then clasped her clitoris in the
same manner as her screams rose in pitch under his ministrations. When he
removed the bench from under her, she wailed as her weight now was carried by
her clasped feminine parts and her tormented arms.
He cranked the winch, pulling back her arms until she lowered her head enough
to allow him convenient use of her mouth, tears flowing from her eyes as,
between sobs, she realized her upcoming humiliation. But when he fetched his
jugs, dread at what torments lay ahead prevailed, and her sobs took a heart
wrenching pleading note, which her tormentor enjoyed to the point of arousal.
He stood astride her bent arms, his member ready to enter her mouth in spite
of her shaking head, and with both hands fetched a small jellyfish from its
water filled jug and dragged the tendrils on the taut skin or her muscular
abdomen, grinning as thin red stripes appeared and her body stiffened in the
jaws of pain, violating her mouth just as she started to scream at the top of
her lungs. He enjoyed her gurgling scream dying on his member, and her
subsequent muffled cries as he fetched more of the stinging creatures and
dragged them over her body, targeting the places where her burns still stood
out as he knew the pain would be much worse.
Kayleen was beyond herself from anguish and humiliation, the pain exploding in
waves from her burning body as he dragged the tendrils over her poor distended
breasts, and searing through her when he dragged them on her mons, her inner
thighs and her cunt lips. When he came in her mouth, she puked, and choked,
and almost drowned in her misery as he laughed at her plight and dragged yet
another jellyfish across her distended breast, as if attempting to clear her
throat scream after scream.
Sated, he proceeded to drag the stinging tendrils over areas of her body which
he could not reach from his previous position, and if this brought some
respite to her martyrized front, it did not spare her anything else, as the
hellish tendrils left their mark under her soles, on her legs, on her thighs,
behind her back and on her bent arms. The clasps gnawed at her flesh with new
agonies whenever she twitched or buckled under the caress of the tendrils,
soon biting into the flesh to the point of drawing blood.
With an evil grin, he carefully wound the tendrils of a fresh specimen around
a stick and pushed it inside her ass, most of the tendrils stopping at her
sphincter but a few being pushed inside, her back arching as she screamed at
the top of her lungs while he twisted it left and right.
He did the same with her vagina, smiling as this orifice allowed more tendrils
to enter. He twisted it at length, bringing new heights of agony into her
uninterrupted howling as each twist stung her insides and ravaged her vulva,
until her private parts started to swell and he had to pull in order to set
the stick free, with some fragments of the tendrils still sticking in and
stinging her to maddening pain until her bloodcurdling screams waned.
He freed her bleeding nipples and clitoris from the clasps and tightened her
collar before freeing her and dragging her between two pillars, where he
cuffed her ankles to chains, spreading her legs in a painful inverted
suspension, and twisted her cuffed arms up behind her, chaining them to a ring
in the floor as pain already coursed in her twisted sockets.
Kayleen looked up at what new horror her tormentor would produce, and saw a
small, bristled caterpillar held with his customary adeptness between thin
tweezers. He looked into her frightened eyes and brought the critter against
her left armpit, which promptly exploded into hellish pain when the bristles
brushed the skin, wrenching a hoarse scream from her sore mouth.
He fetched another and rubbed it under the sole of her left foot, her leg
stiffening and then jerking madly as she howled attempting to kick aside the
venomous bristles, whose painful sting was even worse when applied to burned
or wounded skin. Which her tormentor did, slowly and deliberately, along the
full length of her supple legs and slender thighs, laughing softly at each new
scream erupting from her parched lips and enjoying her wild buckling and
twisting under the caress of the hellish creatures.
He briefly moved to her arms, enjoying himself with her cries for a while, but
then targeted her ass cheeks, each brush causing her to arch and buckle like a
mad puppet and compounding the pain from the stinging bristles with the strain
on her martyrized arms. He picked up another caterpillar with his other hand
and started rubbing both on her buttocks, alternating them in a wild dance of
maddened pain and pitiful howls which aroused him again.
He moved to her front, straddled her and pushed his erect member into her
mouth, rubbing the irritated caterpillars on her breasts in rhythm with his
thrusts, until her gurgles and muffled screams brought him to climax again.
Too mad with pain to notice anything else, Kayleen registered the caterpillar
being applied to her vulva only when the stinging pain exploded from her
nether regions, screaming her lungs out in a long cry which resonated under
the vaults of the chamber, only to merge with the next and each subsequent
scream as he repeatedly tormented her feminine parts with the stinging touch
of the irritated caterpillar.
When he used a forceps to distend her sphincter and drop a caterpillar inside,
a new wave of pain rose from her loins as the writhing critter attempted to
wriggle free from inside her, his uninterrupted stinging swelling her insides
and imprisoning him. Her jerks shook the chains as she screamed herself hoarse
until the critter died, but her tormentor folded another under her left labia
and her howls resumed with renewed agonies, only to be rekindled yet again
when this also died, to be replaced by another under her right cunt lip.
He then rubbed a fresh caterpillar against her left nipple, toying with the
jerking piece of wounded flesh as she heaved her chest and twisted in her
restraints in a vain attempt to escape the stinging bristles, then fetching
another with his other hand to trace a double contour of pain on the stiff
buds at the top of her proud breasts.
When her nipples had no new screams to offer, he dropped a large specimen
inside her love channel, sending her buckling and twitching in yet another
paroxysm of howling agony, as the critter attempted to wriggle its way out and
stung her repeatedly. He used the forceps to insert the next into her swollen
vagina, and her howls rose to new heights as the creature died wriggling in the
twitching clutch of her vaginal muscles. Overcome by ecstasy at his
accomplishments, he repeatedly inserted more caterpillars, enjoying the sight
of his victim repeatedly torturing herself into maddening agony.
He stopped tormenting her when he could no longer force open the swollen rim
of her love channel, and let the silent Easterner take his place. She drank
again from the jug, craving the respite it brought, and moaned when a cold
soothing ointment was rubbed on her swollen flesh. He still tightened her
collar almost to the point of choking her when untying her and hanging her
wrists and ankles from chains dangling from the ceiling, about four feet off
the floor, her battered body slumping at the waist.
After loosening her collar, he put a hand behind her neck and tightened his
grip, looking into her eyes as he bent her head to look into a enameled box
containing hundreds of wooden sticks, sorted from mere slivers to toothpicks,
the points hardened in fire. He said nothing, but looked hard into her eyes
as tears filled them again before she closed them in despair.
He slowly pushed the first into the firm flesh of her left ass cheek, twisting
it as she gasped and sobbed, followed by a few others. She screamed when he
twisted one into the soft flesh between her ass hole and her vulva, and
screamed again when a sliver pierced her sphincter. As more were pushed into
the firm flesh of her derriere, blood started to trickle from the tiny wounds.
Her muscular back became a canvas of pain when he started pushing stick after
stick inside, reaching nerves whose existence she never suspected and building
up her suffering until she found herself screaming whenever she took a deep
breath, as the muscles of her back shifted the points from one agonizing
position to another each time they flexed and distended.
He had saved the thicker sticks for her legs and thighs, and he pushed each in
in earnest, deep into the muscles that were bearing the weight of her body,
twisting them as her body alternately stiffened and twitched as the stick
progressed, her gasps followed by shrieks and cries until he left her sobbing
and panting, gasping from the last stick and dreading the next.
Her arms were subjected to the same treatment, her cries louder not because of
the sticks themselves, which were somewhat smaller, but because each movement
brought new pain from her tormented back and legs. And then she found out that
the same applied to her chest, as the sticks were slowly pushed between her
ribs, turning each breath into a stabbing agony and each scream becoming the
first of a torturous sequel.
Having prepared her body, he could then move to the slivers. When he inserted
the first in the flesh between her thumb and finger, Kayleen was agonizingly
reminded of her tormentor's penchant for fingers and toes, her head shaking
in despair as she contemplated the searing pain recurring twenty times over.
But a new horror was wrought on her when he instead pushed a sliver under her
toenail, her scream tearing at her vocal cords as she attempted to jerk her
foot free from his grip. He did not stop at her feet, alternating between toes
and fingers as she alternated between howls and screams until her twitching
appendages brimmed with bloody slivers.
But the worst was yet to come, as he pushed a sliver into her left breast,
just under the skin, waiting until her agonizing jerks subsided before pushing
another in her other breast, unrelentingly adding new slivers at the slow pace
of her raucous fits of screaming agony. After decorating her breasts with
slivers, he twisted into the once proud globes a few larger sticks, stabbing
the quivering flesh with deliberate slowness.
Already swinging between sobbing twitches and crying jerks, Kayleen wailed
when he moved to her crotch and screamed in despair when he pushed a sliver
into her left cunt lip, the first scream of her descent into a deeper hell as
sliver after sliver were pushed into her martyrized flesh. Just as she thought
it could not get worse, he started pushing a sliver into her bleeding left
nipple, protracting the torment in spite of her mad trashing and unbridled
screams and then repeating it on her other nipple.
As he pushed two slivers under her clitoral hood, nobody could say whether her
frantic buckling was an attempt to stem what would come or just the maddened
response to unbearable pain, but when he inserted, another just under the
surface of her love bud, her howling, fitful scream left no doubt about her
condition, and the subsequent ones confirmed it.
As she hung in unbearable pain, her tormentor took to tapping the slivers
piercing her flesh, wrenching new screams from her quivering body each time a
tap drove a sliver a fraction deeper into the flesh. At length, he started
pushing more sticks through her tormented muscles, and her screams rose again
to the vaults of the chamber when he pushed another sliver in each nipple.
She briefly hung by herself when he left, dreading his return, with good
reason as he brought a jug of clear liquid. He filled a small cup and put it
against one of the slivers under her chest. At first nothing happened, and
then she started screaming as the dry sliver soaked the liquid and bulged
inside her wounded flesh, and then howled in pain as the alcoholic liquid
reached the wounded seat of the sliver.
Her tormentor now held in his hands the bridles of her ride through pain, a
flat stick for tapping the slivers in his left hand and the cup in the other,
and alternated between them, slowly at first and then increasing his pace each
time, bringing the screaming Kayleen to a frenzy of despair, unbridled agony
and pitiful screaming which he attempted to protract and, failing that, to
rekindle over and over.
As she hung there, sobbing and crying, he fetched a small steel blade and
put it against the tail of a stick in her heaving back. In a feat of dexterity
he split the stick in half down to the point where it entered her flesh,
wrenching a new scream from her, followed by a louder one when he pushed a new
stick between the two halves of the existing one, widening the tiny wound in
her flesh and the gulf of pain which Kayleen was drowning in.
He pushed more sticks into her breasts, twisting each into place before
splitting it and inserting another, in preparation for what would follow. He
also skewered her cunt lips and pushed two slivers into her clitoral hood, to
expose her clitoris. Ignoring her maddened cries as the searing pain blazed
through her, he pushed another sliver just under the surface of her wounded
clitoris, tapping on it until it was firmly set.
Then he brought a candle to a stick under her armpit, and watched as fire
consumed it up to the point where it entered her flesh, which turned a fiery
red from the small burn. Her body stiffened and then jerked wildly as the
stick burned slowly, searing the flesh in a new deluge of unrelenting pain
which he soon renewed by bringing the candle against a stick in her back.
Then he paused, allowing the pain to subside enough for her mind to
contemplate what she would have to withstand before all the sticks and slivers
piercing her body could be burned away, one by one. When horror filled her
eyes, he set fire to a sliver in her left nipple, waiting patiently while she
screamed and buckled, until it was consumed. When he replaced it, her torn
voice rose in a scream where despair matched the pain.
Kayleen craved a moment of respite, but her tormentor set fire to the sliver
under the nail of her left pinky. Her screams rose again, on par with any
uttered in the course of her days of torment but maybe more desperate, because
she knew that fingers and toes would follow. True to his preferences, the
Easterner followed up, toe by toe and finger by finger, pausing between each
to let the pain sink in before rekindling it.
Convinced that a predictable pattern induced a deeper fear into victims, the
Easterner brought the candle to the slivers between her fingers and toes, one
at a time, each one wrenching new screams from Kayleen's convulsing body as
her extremities were being seared by the tiny flames.
Kayleen was already delirious, and the horror of having each sliver and stick
in her limbs and back burned away defied comprehension. She wished to whither
away, curl up and die, but all she managed to do was gasp when a stick in
her back was set to fire. Soon the Easterner started setting fire to more than
one, because sticks in her back and buttocks caused pain only at the end, when
burning near the skin.
When he set fire to a sliver under her left arm, instead, the burning agony
started immediately as the tiny flame rose to scorch the skin from the very
beginning and lasted until the sliver was consumed, a protracted agony which
sent Kayleen in a convulsing frenzy of maddened screams.
As more followed, she stiffened, and buckled, and twitchted in pain unlike any
she had suffered to this point, protracted and unbridled searing of the flesh
by tiny flames not being the kind of wound usually encountered on the field of
battle. But in spite of the tears, the screams, and the twitches, in spite of
her shattered pride, occasionally she could be heard saying "Rot in hell, you
bastards. I won't betray her."
Grod observed intently her ordeal, ready to admit that her endurance and
courage were unsurpassed. As she writhed and howled when a sliver in her
muscular abdomen was set ablaze, he noted that fire was effective, possibly
because like most women she was deeply afraid of anything which could mar her
beauty. The rack had also been effective, and he suspected this was because of
how much she valued her fitness.
Too deep in pain for dread, Kayleen still wailed incoherently when he neared
her breasts with the flame, trying desperately to twist her pained globes away
from their doom. All she managed was to solace the leering Southerner, who
smiled when a sliver in her left breast started burning and her screams rose
under the vaults of the torture chamber.
The Easterner set fire to one of the sticks piercing her cunt lips next, and
her howls reached new peaks of horror and agony as she clenched and spread her
thighs in a frantic attempt to extinguish the torment, unable to find respite
in the blessed unconsciousness which had delivered her previously.
With deliberate slowness, the Easterner would set fire to a sliver in the left
breast, one in her groin or inner thighs and one in the right breast, circling
between the most painful targets of his victim's body to maximize the pain
while giving each area of the body the barest chance of recovery.
Hoarse by her practically uninterrupted screaming, Kayleen still found in
herself the strength to snarl "Go to hell!" when he asked "Talk now, before
I set fire here." tapping her clitoris. In the haze of pain, she knew it would
come to that, and however much she wished she could give in, she would not.
Impassible, the Easterner set fire to a sliver in her clitoris, waited until
her heart-wrenching howls, gasps and screams, subsided, then did the same to
one in her left nipple, and then to one in her night nipple. He then set fire
to another in her clitoris, a sliver which had been blackened but was not on
fire yet, and repeated his trail of agony on her convulsing body until her
screams stopped because he had at last burned off them all.
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