This story is wholly fictional and written for the purposes of erotic entertainment. It should only be read by those who can distinguish between fantasy and reality. Of course I do not condone or promote any of the actions portrayed by the characters.
Sir Philip Pike’ stood at the head of a family, which had been one of the richest in the small cosy village of Little Burford for several generations now. All of those with his name before him had worked in either medicine or law, and it was said that the line could be traced as far back as to the time of King John. As a boy, despite the obvious wealth he would eventually inherit from his family, he was studious and a natural dedicated learner. Later, he opted to study to become a lawman for the county, following his inherent passion for the subject. Life was prosperous for him, and he’d easily breezed through his exams to gain the well-respected position very quickly. In Tudor England, cases were pretty run of the mill, and he found he could uphold the law as well as any of his forebears.
Life had become especially easy during these last few years as the whole country had become gripped by their inherent fear of witches and devilry. Suddenly, every woman was being watched and spied on with curious searching eyes, in case it was thought she had some nefarious supernatural powers within her. Burnings soon became a regular occurrence, and Pike began presiding as both prosecuting counsel and judge of the court, over each and every public trial. Accusations came flooding his way all the time, and he’d been able to keep up a steady supply of slow horrific executions to sate the hunger of the gloating spectators that gathered, sometimes up to three times a week.
Up till now, all the trials Pike had overseen had been based on real allegations that had been brought to him. Of course they had, it was his life’s work to make sure that the honest arm of the law was upheld and enforced. And yet, only yesterday, he had knowingly sat at the head of an utterly bogus trial. He had invented the rumours he spoke of, fabricated the evidence against the accused witch, and bribed the witnesses to come forward and slander her good name. The entire hearing had been falsified from the very start, but even to his own balanced and just mind, it had all been necessary.
Carla was her name. He had spotted her first around five years ago, as he’d ridden through the run-down market in town. She’d stood behind her tiny stall, as all vendors did along that way, selling her homemade wares. Her clothes were immaculately made, even with the material itself looking cheap and worn. But it was her face that captivated him the most, framed by curly auburn hair, her gleaming green eyes contrasting so perfectly against her pale skin, that little button nose, above full, pouty lips, that always seemed to be curved into a smile. Whether she was trying to attract the next customer over to her stall, or chatting to them to keep them there, she looked spellbinding: To Philip at least. That smile. That warm, inviting sweet smile. It seemed to be directed straight at him, every time he rode past. Each time he went out on an errand, some of them unnecessary, he would spot her, and became enchanted all over again.
Soon, merely a glimpse of her was not enough, and he had to stop and buy something from her. He could never wear any of the garments of course, not with his stature in the village, but he pretended to her that he appreciated the embroidery so much, he just had to have them, to keep them at home. Every single item ended up being thrown away, but at least the purchase meant he could talk to her, to get near her, and it made his heart ache so much in his chest to know that was all he could ever do with her, swap a few stolen words in public.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her, but anything more than a brief chat in the marketplace was unthinkable. Him, a legal high-flier, with the power over life and death of everyone within 50 miles, and her, a lowly stallholder, who had to thread rags together to keep herself fed. It would bring shame on the whole Pike family and they would’ve been roundly chased from the village as one. But he couldn’t just leave it at that. He couldn’t just sit there and wait for her to find some peasant man of her own. He could just imagine it now, wandering along the stalls and coming across hers, now run by her and her flea-bitten husband. The vision alone made his blood boil, and he knew something drastic had to be done.
So as soon as young terrified women were starting to be paraded in front of him, being accused and then ridiculed, his mind began whirring with thoughts of how this could help his own situation. How might he react if he had Carla herself up on that platform instead, sentence to death, well within his clutches. It would unfortunately mean the end of the girl’s life, but if it was to be spent without him anyway, it was no big loss.
He soon became fixated with the idea, and the very next time there seemed like there was a healthy gap between executions, he set his plan in motion. He called his guards to his office, as he typically did, and informed them of a rumour that had been brought to his attention. An accusation so strong, that they must be sent off to seize the young girl in question. They suspected nothing amiss, and went at once, to drag her away from her stall, in front of everyone, screaming and protesting as all of them did. They told her of her charges, and then took her wordlessly to the temporary cell at his offices. She had been kept there prisoner for the night, and the next day, even before she could realise what was happening to her, he had rushed the trial through. It went without a hitch, as proceedings under his auspices always did. None of the village folk appreciated delays when there was evil in their midst. The usual fear and hysteria had surrounded the event, helping the wheels of injustice run smoothly. Certain members of the crowd seemed to enjoy the trials even more than the executions themselves sometimes. The clapped and cheered with delight as the inevitable verdict was read out: guilty of witchcraft.
The morning was now dark, with a distinct chilly wind buffeting Sir Philip as he leapt off his horse and tied it up to a splintering post, beside the barn-like structure which had served as the girl’s prison for this second night. He stamped his heavy boots free of dirt in front of the door and then entered, wearing his velvet riding trousers, hemp shirt and thick off-white jacket over the top. He always ensured to wear his best stuff on execution days. He firmly crossed himself, just in case, before lifting the clanking keys from his belt, unlocking the metal cell door, and entering the cramped room where she slept. Nothing inside but a sack of straw on the floor for her bed, which would also be destroyed itself later today of course.
Carla had always lived a very quiet, small life, never really wanting for much more. She dwelled with her father and two siblings deep in the heart of the village. She was the oldest and was therefore well used to taking on lots of duties at home, such as all the cooking and cleaning. This meant she was no stranger to hard work, and as she came to age, she knew that in a poor family such as hers, with a sickly father into the bargain, she would have to toil to bring them in any money at all. It had led to her creating her own little projects such as embroidering and stitching up old clothes, spinning the useless back into the wearable, and taking them each day to market. She’d always enjoyed talking to others who lived in the town and who had started to get to know her well. For her, it didn’t even feel anything like sales patter, she just always enjoyed being warm and sociable.
Of course she knew of the mighty Pike clan, and the youngest member thereof, even before he’d acquired his full power. She had been surprised to have him buying the lowly clothes from her stall, but she nevertheless felt somehow honoured by it. They always smiled at each other and had developed a cordial relationship.
So when she was suddenly accused of being a witch, and brought to stand before him of all people, to answer the charges, she was shocked. His behaviour over the last few days throughout her whole ordeal was far from cordial. If anything he seemed to be driving the case against her. The evidence had been laughable and vague, to her ears at least, but the crowd had lapped it up, and were deaf to any of her emotional protestations of innocence. The day seemed to run away with her, and before she knew it, she was being pronounced guilty, and sentenced to death, the very next day. She shouldn’t have been surprised really, as no one accused had ever lived to tell the tale. All across England, girls were being dragged away by hooded figures, never to be seen or heard from again. Only their families were left, to tell the tale of them being accused of the most heinous crimes, before being burned alive in front of them in public, all in the name of heresy. But why her? She had never even spoken out of turn as a little girl, let alone do any of the horrid things they were all accusing her of.
As the creaking door opened up, she woke up instantly and her eyes snapped over to him. She sat upright from the straw and looked over with tired trepidatious eyes. “H-Hello sir,” she stuttered out, moving to stand up on her shaky legs. She was still dressed in her clothes from when she had been snatched, as she hadn’t been allowed to change out of them. Her long brown dress, with its long sleeves, a neckline that hinted at her reasonable cleavage, a white apron over the top, all stitched together by her own fare hand.
He made his way over to her, and blinked as he looked her up and down, letting the door crash back into place behind him. “Good morning Carla. Your execution is set for 7:45, so we don’t have too much time.” His voice stayed steady and matter-of-fact, sounding loud and deep to her tired ears. He could almost pity her as she looked up at him, evidently still totally bewildered by everything that had been flung at her over the last couple of days. Large rings ran around her eyes, her face puffy and red from a long night that looked full of distress, and devoid of much sleep. “I shall take you to the place. Now take your clothes off, they will be burnt along with the rest of your belongings.” He turned away from her and took down a thin black cloak from a hook, together with a hood on it and stood ready to hand it to her. “You evidently didn’t sleep much. Did you… magic yourself into a crow and fly off around the village all night, cavorting with the devil again?” He brandished the cloak high into the air, making the material flap like wings in front of her.
A shiver of pure fear ran down her spine and her breath hitched as she turned to watch him, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. Her chest was rising and falling slowly with tempered breaths as she struggled to find words. "B-But I didn't do anything, I'm not a witch sir, something has gone wrong here, please." She tried to argue, her eyes furrowed a little in desperation as she shifted forwards and took his one free hand in hers. "I don’t beg for things from people sir, my family has brought me up too proud for that, but please, I am begging you this morning, if you have it at all within your power, please do something to get me out of this. As a man of law you must know that it’s not fair," she gasped hopefully. "You surely know that I am not evil," She took the cloak from him, only to drop it down onto the floor, more focussed on her well-rehearsed imploring.
She looked so helpless and weak, her voice sounding hoarse with exhaustion. He could easily let her go, and claim to everyone that she had performed some black magic miracle and vanished into thin air. He could even probably convince her to offer up her virginity to him, and make her ride his cock right here on the straw for her freedom. If he thought no one would’ve spotted him, he would’ve sneaked in here last night and raped her as she slept, but this way was much safer. But no, that wasn’t good enough. He hadn’t gone through all this just to get some impatient fumbling from her in the dark, and then immediately let her go again.
“Do not, touch me,” he warned her, and removed his hand, letting hers drop to her side in defeat. He ducked to angrily lift the cloak again and hold it aloft. “You’ve been found guilty and sentenced to death,” he said impatiently. “Justice must be carried out to keep our people safe. Now get undressed witch, and put this on!” He stepped closer, determination etched on his face as he looked down at her. “I suggest you comply as best you can, right from the start.” A lot of the poorer girls just crumbled at this point, and he realised that somehow she must be made of sterner stuff. “Come on!” he started to lift her apron over her head and wrestle it free from her. As he tugged it off, it revealed more of her tiny form to him, thanks to the dress she had on being far too small. She hadn't been in any financial position to buy more material for herself, saving the best of it for her customers.
Only then, did a strange thought occur to her. Maybe he really did believe everything they’d said yesterday. Perhaps he was just doing his job with the evidence that had been brought to him, but still she couldn’t imagine who on earth had even suggested those kind of rumours. He hadn’t even named the person who had come forward to slander one of the nicest and most polite girls in the village in the first place. Others that had been hauled away in the past, were troublemakers, whom a dozen or so men had grudges against for one reason or another. But someone telling these kinds of tales on her? It was unimaginable. She shifted a little bit, "I-I'm not, a witch," she said more stoically. "Please Sir, let me prove it," she whimpered.
“Now look,” he said, his teeth clenched, pacing forward once more and nearly pinning her to the splintered wall of the barn. “I’ve got around 200 very angry and scared people out there, who want to see a witch burned today so they can feel safe from your devilry. Three independent townsfolk gave evidence yesterday that you are in league with Beelzebub himself. You must burn, and I will see to it that you do. He stood as close as he could to be menacing, without his body actually having to touch hers. He clutched at her dress and pulled at the material, but the stitching she’d done had been fashioned too well to split. Getting frustrated, he pulled the grubby garment up instead and tore it from her that way. He couldn’t help but lick his lips as she was left standing there naked, his eyes roaming over her and trying to memorise every part of it. Her firm young breasts sitting high on her chest, the slender figure of a poverty-stricken girl, sturdy child-bearing hips. There would be more of that later though, so he kept it brief, before then reluctantly draping the dusky cloak around her shoulders. “Here, put your arms through these holes.”
She was startled to be so easily exposed like that, and she let out a gasp as she took a few steps back. Even her closest family had never seen her disrobed like this as an adult. With him still fully clothed, she caught herself cowering slightly in his presence, and she felt a hot tear slip from her eye before she urgently reached up to wipe it away. She tried to steel herself and be strong, but was finding it more and more difficult with each new indignity. She shivered as the impending doom swirled around inside of her, that moment of her demise getting closer every second. Her hands instinctively went to cover herself in shame, but then realising she had no choice, they gratefully followed his instructions to put the thin garment on instead.
He nodded in approval, saying nothing, breathing steadily through his nose as he adjusted the hood over the top of her head, almost hiding her face completely from view as she held it bowed dejectedly like that. He could only imagine the ice cold fear running through her right now, and somehow it thrilled him. He ducked briefly to gather the discarded dress, then pulled her chin up with his finger so her tear-filled eyes met his. “I thought you witches are normally braver than this. Now come.” She felt the sting of his words and parted her lips to counter, but then thought better of it, and simply turned her silent face away to the side. He gripped her wrist hard in his strong hand and rapidly started to march towards the door.
With her clothes gathered under his arm, he emerged with her from the small building and strode out across the expansive field ahead of them, tugging her behind him. He couldn’t even tell now if her shivers were through fear, or the bitter wind that blew into their faces as they walked. He didn’t even look back as they approached the small clearing, still momentarily being set up by his two colleagues, the hum of an eager crowd starting to gather nearby. Carla looked about herself in wonder, as she was far too delicate to ever have attended one of these executions herself. Ironic that her very first, would also be her last.
The chill early morning gusts carried the faint smell of smoke with them, as a wooden pile smouldered away nearby, and there was some obvious evidence of her clothing and a broken up market stall slowly being consumed by the flames. His boots clonked up onto the small wooden structure of the platform, as a tall stake was being plunged deep into the ground beside it.
“Mr Warren, Mr Cranham,” Sir Philip barked out. “thank you very much gentlemen, that will be all.” He dismissed the two men dutifully as they finished their jobs, leaving him to drag the trembling barefoot huddled-up figure onto the stage, for her final performance. The atmosphere from the public was that of excitement, laced with pure anger, some of the people at the front brandishing thorny sticks that they were waving threateningly. Their faces alone told him that they might have beaten her to death themselves if he’d given them the chance. Some choruses of ‘burn the witch!’ were already going up, but he raised a hand to silence them as they arrived centre-stage.
As Carla noticed the fearsome crowd, chanting and waving their weapons, she stepped a little bit closer to her jailor, out of instinct, now desperately frightened. "Please," she tried to beg once more, "This isn't right, it's not fair," she whispered up to him, but he simply ignored her. She bowed her head again in shame, trying to cover her body a bit more.
He let her hand go to stride over to the fire, where he fed her apron and dress to the ravenous flames, making the crackling louder and eliciting some bonus cheers from the back of the crowd. A fresh tear slowly began to roll down her cheek and she shivered violently as the last fragments of her humanity were being destroyed.
Philip recognised many of the townsfolk here, the ones that always loved to see suffering like this. He had paid her own younger brothers to give evidence at her trial, and although it had been tough to make them crack, Philip had used his wealth to his advantage. Eventually, the amount of money he’d offered them both, had proved just too much for them to resist. He’d doubled the fee as well to have them attend today and help whip up the crowd some, and he gratefully noticed them lurking somewhere near the back, their own sharp sticks levelled in their hands. They would definitely be hanging around his office later today he wagered, ready for their sixty pieces of silver.
The dismal sky above was still a portentous shade of dark grey, as he reached over and tipped her hood back for everyone to see her face. “This is Carla!” he announced. “One of the devil’s own, an evil witch.” She winced and looked at him, then hopelessly down at the wooden structure, and finally out at the crowd. They instantly reacted animatedly, jeering and booing with fervour. “Proved to have danced with Satan himself!” he continued, the perfect ringmaster for this scene. “Found guilty of consorting with her familiars to perform witchcraft among us, every night!” The chant began again and he pushed her forward, presenting her to them. “Known to have had a rat suckle on her, and to have lain with animals for many months!” Her cheeks flushed a harsh shade of scarlet at these blatant fairy tales, but the crowd all loved it, baying for her blood, hanging on every word. “But today, ladies and gentleman, I shall rid us of this evil! She will be put to death and consumed by this fire!” It was a well-practiced party piece, but today it meant more to him because it was her. It wasn’t common to actually sexually abuse the girls before death, but he was sure the crowd would welcome a slight change to the running order just this one time. ‘Burn her! Burn her!’ it started up again, and he waited for the wave to pass. “Now, you evil creature, have you anything to say for the crowd?” He bore down on her from her left hand side, hoping she would just confess like everyone else and they could tie her up and get on with it.
The shouting subsided for a moment and there was quiet as they waited, only the low roaring of the fire still audible. She steeled herself a little bit and took a measured breath. "I am not a witch," she repeated, the timid words almost being swept up by the wind as she felt the warmth crackle at her side. Her cheeks remained bright crimson, the blush even spreading a little more along her pale body, her eyes glossy with tears and hair messy as she tried to once again cover up in the cloak she was given.
A collected gasp of shock instantly went around the crowd, and his stony expression turned sour at the stubborn statement. A confession wasn’t vital to commence with the sentence, but it always did keep the people happy to hear it. Cries of ‘liar!’ went up, and ‘Die you evil bitch!’. For a moment, he did nothing, but glare at her, seeing if his steely eyes alone would make her reconsider. The fire waited hungrily, and a low rumble of thunder became audible even over the voices of the mass, the church bell ringing out for half past the hour in the distance. Everyone waited nervously to see his next move, and Carla noticed that she was most nervous of all when he was doing nothing, her anxiety of the unexpected getting the better of her.
Finally, he reached over to pinch the string holding her cloak together, yanking hard on it to let the flimsy material fall open. Taking the collar between finger and thumb, he wrenched it from her body, shaking it free with a flourish and adding it to the fire. They could never reuse cloaks anyway once they had been in contact with the skin of a convicted witch. “Satan lives amongst us!” he called out, riling them up some more, leaving Carla to cower in front of them. Stark naked again, though this time with a hundred pairs of leering eyes on her body, and she could feel every one. She had never felt so vulnerable and weak before.
“See the evil he has placed inside her to make her lie.” Philip continued, and he Grabbed some of her loose flowing hair and balled it in his fist, tipping her head back and leaning his face close to hers. “You are a vile pathetic wicked creature! You commit horrid sin every single day of your life! You are, a witch! Are you not? Now tell them!” Lifting her hair again and easing her forward, almost off the edge of the platform, the wind now rattling through her naked shivering body, every inch on show for all of them to see. Some people got over eager and flung their sticks in her direction, the wood smacking against her legs before falling to her feet.
She found herself desperately trying not to topple over, the wind running over her as she shivered, her body feeling so flimsy in his powerful grip. Her nipples peaked thanks to the bitter cold, and soft cries escaped her lips as the sticks hit her, the occasional piece causing a red mark to bloom and then disappear. "I-I am not," she argued out pathetically, trying her best, tears now streaming freely down her cheeks. "Please," she begged once more in shame, having no other choice left.
Upon this fresh denial, the crowd of villagers swelled more, and whoops went up, so loud he had to raise his hand again for some sort of calm. “Evil throughout her whole body, look.” He stepped down off of the stage and walked forward to survey the front row, ***********ing a thorny stick from an angry looking tradesman, which was proudly handed over. Stepping back up, he brandished the vicious looking weapon behind her. “Once you die here and your soul is taken from this earth, you will go straight to the pits of hell, and bathe with the devil. To become his servant and slut for all eternity, is it not true?” Barely had the question left his mouth before he was swiping the branch at her ass, slapping it hard. “And you shall offer up your vile cunt to him to use, and to let him sinfully fuck you forever more!” Some clapping began along with the chanting as he whipped her twice more, hoping that people wouldn’t notice his cock starting to go erect at torturing her helpless young body like this. “See! See how the slut’s nipples go hard at the very idea!” To demonstrate he reached and tweaked one hard, then the other, keeping them stiff as little bullets, letting her own body convict her on the spot. “A satanic whore witch!"
She flinched and squealed out as she was beaten with the intimidating weapon, clenched hard in his hand. She was racked with humiliation, but she could do nothing to stop the onslaught. Her ass began to sting terribly from the whipping, and as she sniffled away, she tried hopelessly to defend herself. With a strong shake of her head, she whimpered “that was the cold that did that!” But of course no one believed it, or wanted to believe it, even as his strong fingers continued to tweak and twist her sensitive buds, by now fully hard and slightly redder. "Please, I'm not, please," she pleaded with him blearily, his ministrations causing goosebumps to spread over her shoulders and chest.
“And now she pretends it hurts!” he said and swiped her three times more for good measure. “The devil protects her from such pain, we all know that.” Getting frustrated, he kicked out at her, catching her shin with his heavy boot, before heading over to the edge of the stage to fetch some more instruments. She was trembling like a leaf and tried to shut her eyes, trying somehow to use this short respite to steal herself once more. But in reality there was no protection for her at all, and the searing pain on her ass and thighs was very real. “Thank you,” he said to his colleague holding a small box, some of the crowd looking gleeful as he returned to her. “As you deny your devilry, then we will have to prove it.” As he spoke, he attached two clips to her nipples, clamping them hard and then twisting them up tight. The screws, normally used to torture fingertips were made of coarse metal and latched easily onto her tits. “Yesterday it was proved in a court of law that you have sucked on the devil himself, from the age of five, and are so infected with bad, that you will now take any stranger into your mouth and perform sinful acts on him.”
"Ow, ah," she gasped out as he clamped her tender little nipples, making her wince as she wiggled around in pain, her back naturally arching as she tried to alleviate the pain. She let out another whimper as he twisted the rusty screws tighter, causing little squeals to fall from her lips now as he berated her. "Please no, please just kill me," she squeaked out to him, practically begging, not wanting this further humiliation as she felt panic start to descend fully over her.
There was suddenly an expectant hush in the air, and he twisted the clamps as tight as they would go, before tugging once more on her hair. “Before this poor wretch dies, shall we see her feast on a stranger’s penis, proving her guilt once and for all?” The question was practically rhetorical as they were more than ready to see her humiliated in this way, and although there seemed to be several agitated men in the audience who thought they might be getting lucky this morning, Sir Philip had already decided whose cock it should be. In amongst the sea of people, Carla had already made out lots of men leering at her and making lewd gestures and comments. She shrugged back, never having even seen a cock in her short life, let alone pleasured one.
Everyone had turned out on this cold and damp morning to see another burning, they hadn’t figured with getting a nice extra show for it too. “Down onto your knees,” he commanded her, yanking her hair to help her knees buckle. “Now!” he barked out the word and smacked her ass, with his bare hand this time, instantly crossing himself afterwards, and a mocking laugh went out from the crowd as she suffered mor pain. With his force both on her hair and behind her, she instantly folded pathetically down onto her knees, giving a yelp, which only pleased the onlookers more. “We will get to the killing soon enough witch, don’t worry about that. First though we will have our fun, and have our proof of your sin and sorcery.” Once she was positioned as best as he could get her, a quivering wreck at his feet, he undid his belt and lowered his dark trousers and presented his rigid cock to her, nearly poking it in her eye. “See how she looks, wide eyed with excitement at it!” Her looks of course were more of shock.
His fist was in her hair again and he rubbed his cock all over her face, rock hard and pulsating, finally living out a fantasy he had carried with him for so long. Revulsion and fear flowed through her at the strange heaviness of his shaft against her face, and she tried, mostly in vain to shift around to avoid it touching her skin so much. . “She acts coy, but the devil inside her will make her open her mouth and suck.” With the fire still crackling away, burning her life’s possessions to ash, he reached down to hold her nose tightly shut, seeing the abject terror in her moist eyes, his cock pressing hard at her lips. Some people were pushing to the front to get a better look, transfixed with this new development in the action.
Her eyes met his, fear and anguish swirling around in them, vile resentment on her face at the cruel trick he played. As she was forced to breathe, her lips parted, and inadvertently wrapped around the tip of his cock. She whimpered, the taste feeling so unfamiliar and wrong as she shuffled around a little bit, her hands reaching up to try and stop him. As she struggled to keep her balance, she lost it entirely and ended up tipping forward, planting her palms flat down on the wooden boards, her mouth accidentally slipping further down his cock and taking more in, even before she was ready.
A collective gasp erupted again as she put it in her mouth, the real reasons seemingly ignored by everyone gathered. “You see! How she willingly accepts me into her mouth! Disgusting sinful whore.” He gently started to shift her head back and forth, facing side on to the crowd so they could get the best view possible. Her wet lips moved easily along the smooth shaft between them. He was struck by the idea of her last few moments on this earth, being humiliated, made to perform public acts of degradation, and it made his cock twitch harder against her tongue. “See how she gobbles it hungrily! Servicing me as she has done the devil and all his kind since she was a girl.” He was pushing so hard that her throat was giving out wet sounds, as he started to force it further down, using her hair like a handle to jerk her rhythmically back and forth.
He was trying despite the amazing feelings, to stay focussed and speak though. “And we only met two days ago! When this wretch was brought before me by my men!” His point had now easily been proved, but her silky mouth wrapped around his cock felt far too good to leave. There they were again, those little emerald orbs of her eyes, now sparkling with tears, just as he’d imagined so many times: Looking up at him as she gagged and slurped on his cock. This was the reality, and it felt a thousand times more potent than any fantasy. ‘Evil! Evil!’ was being chanted, but he was now concentrating too hard to even register it much, lost in those eyes glinting with the reflection of the fire’ sparking in them.
This whole performance was so alien to her, and within seconds she found herself choking and drooling over the invasive object in her mouth. She tried to squirm away, but his grip on her was too tight, and the momentum of his jerking kept pulling her weight forward, onto her hands on the floor, meaning she couldn’t even lift one to try and push him back. She continued to weep bitterly, and drool ran down her chin, dripping onto her cleavage and the clamps of her nipples. She felt his gaze looming down over her, and all she could do was try to desperately convey her pleads through the contact, but all she got in return was verbal abuse from his lips, not even directed at her but used to rally the crowd, everyone still fanatically hanging onto his every word.
Even as he was still bobbing her head with one hand, he brought out something thick and cylindrical from his pocket to show to everyone. “This!” he called out, slightly breathlessly, “is a candle, delivered to me this morning by the priest of our church. It has been blessed, under the eyes of the priest and god. This, shall be our instrument of proof, to show that this girl is surely possessed by pure evil.” He lowered the white candle and gripped it tightly, then finally pulled his cock free from her wet mouth.
She’d only just about heard him say what he held up, over the wet guttural sounds her mouth was making. A string of drool still connected her mouth to his tip, and only snapped once he stepped back from her. "P-Please stop, please," she tried to say, but her voice by now was coarse and scratchy, the sound totally drowned out by all the menacing voices above her head. She was virtually paralysed with fear, her innocent mind only daring to think where he might want to put it.
“Vile! Witch!” he shouted and slapped her face, causing a little shriek to leave her lips, and making her head jerk to one side. Stepping forward, he brandished the candle again behind her. “If her body is teaming with sin and is bedevilled, her cunt shall reject this godly instrument. It will cause her so much pain, she will scream out with its force.” He held it up proudly for everyone to see, and smacked the thick girth against his hand, the sound of the wax against his skin ringing out harshly.
The slapping sound alone made her flinch to her core, as he confirmed her worst fears. She shook her head in panic and tried to back away, to find anywhere for refuge, but her arms were now very weak, her little body already feeling drained from everything this morning. She could do nothing, he was already on the move towards her again.
With the tension almost at breaking point, and several mouths hanging open, he stepped around and brought it to the opening to her untouched pussy, hoping that he could count on her being a virgin in this instance. With one firm motion, he thrust forward, pushing hard inside her, as far as it would go, tearing through her hymen and plunging deep, almost toppling her over onto her face with the force.
To his utter joy, a scream of pure, unbridled pain escaped her lips, the waxy stick stretching her out and being the one to take her precious virginity. The scream was shrill, and easily loud enough for everyone present to hear. A couple of figures at the back fled, unable to even stay in the presence of such evil. She squirmed and writhed, wanting to crawl away, but she couldn’t. Without even meaning to, the agony between her legs had meant she’d played right into his hands, it looking like her body was indeed rejecting the candle and that her 'cunt' was seared from its godliness. She couldn’t even form words as she cried and writhed around, the intrusion so unbearable buried so deep in her tight hole.
He could already see smears of her blood along the wax as he pulled the instrument out and then started to insert it again. “the lord has brought us truth!” he shouted, starting to fuck her with it, the crowd now starting to get animated once more. “The lord’s truth will always prevail over this disgusting evil! We have our answer!” For maximum effect, he wrenched the candle fully out of her, and raised it up, displaying it once more, though this time making sure they could see the incriminating red streaks across its surface.
As the torment between her legs stopped, one slim hope remained. That he would leave it at that. But there was no chance of that. He soon returned it to her hole and shoved it back in, sending her rocking forward onto her hands again. The crowd delighted at this fresh assault, her tits swaying beneath her, tugged downwards by the heavy metal clamps hanging from them. Goosebumps ran over her skin, her whole body drenched in shame. ‘Burn, the, witch!’ The closest spectators in the front row started to spit, the globs of saliva landing on her face and hair. The remaining sticks were finally thrown in hatred and fear, smashing against her back, even as he continued to rape her, watching her wince and cry with each new thrust.
“Her cunt only accepts Satan’s own cock inside her! Anything else it will not take! Her blood tells its own tale!” By now he was shoving the candle at lightning speed, her blood acting as its own lubricant to let him probe deeper, getting too carried away and slamming against her cervix with it, his fingers turning as white as the wax wrapped around the thick girth. ‘She’s a witch! She’s a dirty fucking witch!” he could hear as he grinned with prideful glee, loving the adulation mixed with her agony.
Carla tried haplessly to withdraw, wiggling her hips and doing anything to try and shift away from the candle, but couldn’t get anywhere. "N-No please, no," she whimpered as he continued mercilessly, his strength easily overpowering her small frame. She let out cries and screams, only looking more and more possessed to onlookers, who didn't know that she had never seen a cock before, let alone been taking the devil’s all of her life so far. Her eyes squeezed shut, trying anything to just block out any of the humiliating torture.
Her tormentor was only revelling more in the buzz from the crowd though, his cock still rigid, wet from her mouth. Only when his own desire to have her himself became too much to bear, did he stop fucking her and let the candle go, leaving it lodged inside her ruined pussy for now. Straightening up again, he grabbed for her shoulders and manhandled her back to her feet, now looking dazed and defeated. She winced and stumbled forward, making the thick candle fall from her body and roll across the stage to the front and off, thudding onto the grass. The people standing nearby saw it and backed away, not daring to be anywhere near the now sullied instrument. He steadied her, then snapped the clamps open from her nipples to toss the rusty instruments far behind the stage. As the blood returned, she gave a strained whimper, the hot soreness now making itself known and hurting more, leaving them raw and peaked. .
Turning her once more to face the onlookers, he began his final speech, seeing the befuddled look in her eyes, not even sure that she could even register what he was saying by now. “Carla, you have been brought here to face accusations of witchcraft and devilry, and have been found guilty. The lord’s work must now be carried out and you are to be bound to the stake and burned until you are dead.” A huge cheer went up with the excitement at this prospect now reaching fever pitch. They always loved this part, today even more so. His deputies Cranham and Warren were well rehearsed and instantly took the opportunity to stoke up the fire more, grabbing up some of the hurled sticks to feed to it, making it leap and flair, the new blush of heat flowing over to reach centre stage. She felt the blasts of warmth meet her skin, but even as they chased away the cold from her bones, she knew it was only a taster of what was to come, and found no comfort in it whatsoever.
As he continued on with his final speech, his words became even more stark against the crisp air, loud and rasping over the billowing fire, for the whole crowd, and the lord to hear together. “Let the world be rid of this evil spirit. May god have mercy on your wretched soul.”
With fresh blood trickling down her thighs, and the end now imminent, she felt him grip her wrist once more and start to march her towards the stake. It had been driven hard into the ground just in front of the raised platform, where a small wooden stool had also been placed. He checked the stake was solid by giving it a hefty shake with his hand, before then leading her down to step onto the stool. By now her brain was fuzzy as the whole situation began to overwhelm her. A short life, lived honestly, never doing anything wrong, all leading to this. He pulled the chain down that was nailed to the neighbouring wooden post, and even from here he could feel vicious wafts of heat below coming up to meet them.
Her body moved to wherever he wanted to put her, her terrified mind now working on complete autopilot. She could feel him loop the warm metal links around her slender neck and secure them, just tight enough to hold her in place. He then stepped back, admiring his handywork and looked over to the crowd. By now they were all roaring at a deafening volume, swelling forward and getting ready for the main event. ‘Burn you fucking bitch!’ could be heard amongst the deafening tumult. She shook her head a little, her eyes pleading with his. "Please, you know it's not true, please." She tried one last time, her small voice now hoarse and broken. No answer though. Instead, he reached down and gripped his cock, standing just behind her and looking over into some of the wide-eyed faces of the mob.
“Fuck her! Fuck her to death!” someone shouted out in a voice cracking with wild emotion, , and soon, the idea he was hoping to give them took proper hold. “Yeah! Rape the evil cunt!” they were shouting, baying for more before it was all over. With a bemused look on his face, as if the idea had never even entered his head before just now, he edged himself closer to her, moving into position behind her, and reached forward to hitch one of her legs up and placing his cock near to her wet opening. He looked quizzically over at them and the loudest cheer yet went up. She stiffened as he adjusted her, cunt already throbbing so much with pain, her eyes wet with tears. "No!" she screamed out, feeling like her body could take no more.
So here it was, the whole reason he had set all this up and abused his position. The reason he’d got her here in the first place, to conquer her as his, to make sure she would never feel the touch of any other man apart from his, and also ensure that his cock was the last thing she’d ever feel. As the flames started to gently lick at the legs of the stool, he signalled for the men to stop loading it up. They got the message and backed off, leaving him to slowly, and deliberately ease his cock inside the girl’s impossibly tight pussy. He looped his arm tighter around her leg and pulled her back some against his firm body, sighing out as he felt the tight velvet envelop him totally. Fresh from having been ripped open just a minute ago, the resistance only made her tighter for his cock as he forced his way inside. Her tearful pleas and yelps over her shoulder went totally unheard as he got balls deep, her snug pussy wrapping so tightly around him. He let out a moan of pure pleasure as he felt it, but he had to stay focussed. He had a job to do for his fans there.
She first felt his cock entering her, even bigger than the candle had been, feeling like it was splitting her open. Then, even before she had a moment to get used to the fresh invasion, she felt his thrusts start, sending shooting pains of agony through her. She tried to find herself something to hold on to but couldn't, her hands just waving at her sides, left trying to accept the weight of his thrusting. His grip on her stayed tight, making sure that her pussy remained his for the taking as the crowd shouted, their anger palpable. She whimpered desperately, left with nothing to do but bounce against him like a pathetic ragdoll. The fire still crackled below them, her skin flushed a light pink both from humiliation and heat. Instinctively her pussy clenched around his cock, trying to push him out as a defence, but in fact just massaged his length and gave him even more pleasure.
The legs of the stool were slowly starting to be eaten away by the fire and it lapped its way up the sides. Her two brothers looked on impassively from the back, not one trace of guilt on their faces, having lined their pockets with their betrayal, watching their sister’s final hideous degradation taking place, seeing the lawman fuck her into oblivion. Gasps were being pumped from her from each thrust, and she couldn’t even really squirm or move out of the way thanks to the chain around her neck. Any movement would strangle her outright, and although the idea seemed appealing right now, she wasn’t brave enough to actually try it.
She felt him pushing himself completely into her each time, easily filling up her little cunt, his cock throbbing inside of her as her breath caught in her throat. Every new expression of anguish on her face could be seen by everyone, and now she didn’t even bother trying to hide herself. But she still hated having to look into all those pairs of eyes. Most of the faces she’d seen regularly at the market, pleasantly buying clothes from her, now filled with such hate towards her, revelling in her suffering.
Her abuser coughed a little from the rising acrid smoke, but regained himself and started to move again. Gripping harder onto the sturdy wooden stake for support on that side, the fingers of his other hand pressing her into the supple flesh of her thigh. “Harder! Harder!” came the chants, and he dutifully obliged, the voices echoing in his ears as he started to rape her more quickly. He needed to make sure everyone got their money’s worth there before her time ran out and the fire reached her. The flames roared below them, though he could hardly hear them over the cries of joy, eyes fixed on his cock ploughing mercilessly into her, keeping her petrified little body propped up, the chain rattling and clanking against the wood as they moved together, her bouncing so easily now, landing hard around his cock each time.
His own breaths were starting to come out raspy, against her ear, lungs filling more with smoke as the fire got closer and closer. He gave her no respite though, and fucked her deep and hard, driven on by the pure elation and adrenaline inside him now. He looked across to the surging spectators to register the pleasure on their faces too, before then going back to focus on his personal moment. This was why it had all bene worth it, to tear her away from her family and put her through this. It was even more thrilling than he dreamt it would be, transforming the cute little girl in rags from the market into his own personal broken little rapedoll tied up to a post.
The fire lapped quickly higher up the legs of the tiny wooden stool, and it was already lowering as it was eaten up as blackened ashes. Soon she would be nothing more than ashes herself, but he needed to cum before that happened. The chants of burn the witch had now changed to rape the witch, accompanied by a cacophony of clapping along with it. Rotten fruit was being thrown at her along with the torrents of bitter hatred, and he only just about registered the pieces thudding and splashing against her stomach and tits. her pussy really couldn’t take any more torture, and all she could do was weep bitterly, from the unceasing pain between her legs, the unbearable shame and the abject horror of her situation.
Whimpers and squeaks of pain still tumbled from her lips, her eyes glossy and cheeks tear stained thanks to his abuse on her previously untouched body. She found herself murmuring ‘no’ consistently under her breath as he took her, feeling the heat of the fire and his thrusts increasing as it sent her into a pure state of panic, her chest rising and falling frantically now. The fruit being thrown was only a minor discomfort considering her whole body was now racked with pain. His cock also glistened as it drove mercilessly inside her, covered with both her blood and her pussy juices.
The soles of his boots began to feel warm, the wood of the platform he was standing on getting hot itself, but he wanted this to last as long as it could. “At least you got a nice cock before you went huh? Mmm you love that going so deep don’t’ you,” he said quietly into her ear, the words only audible to her, fully drowned out by everyone else.
Despite the heat, the words sent a shiver down her spine, something evil and sinister behind them as she shook her head at him. "N-No, please stop. I-I don't want this, please," she stuttered out to him, desperate that the crowd should not think this of her. She gasped for air, finding it in very short supply by now. She quivered, her body poised, almost like a ballerina, only the toes of one foot still in contact with the stool, his hulking figure behind her holding her up for the crowd and taking the whole of her weight.
“Oh yes, oh yes…” he chanted in return, blotting out her pathetic whines of protest. “You wanted this, wanted this all along. Smiling at me even though you had no money you dirty poor little slut.” The icy wind blew hard into their faces, but to them two it only felt hot, wafting more smoke along with it, actually making him cough now too. He scowled, not wanting anything to be interrupting him here from fucking her.
She shook her head as she herd him, "N-No, I swear I didn't, I-I swear, I'm sorry," She stuttered out, rambling out any words that she could think of or catch as she whimpered once more from the feeling of his intense pace, her face drenched now in pathetic tears. The heat started to feel stifling, the occasional drip of sweat running down her body. She now just felt so tired and bereft of any energy, shutting her eyes to try so hard to just imagine herself standing at her little market stall. But the noises, and the vicious feelings of the abuse made any fantasies impossible, and she was kept well and truly in the moment. She couldn't believe the casual words leaving his lips as he fucked her, as if she weren’t about to die, her reputation already smashed to pieces. With her heart sinking the rest of the way, she leant her head to one side, resting it against the post as she gave up, on everything.
He shuffled himself to one side to cool his boots down some, having to pull her back a bit, helping her ride him, keeping his arm looped around her leg and leaving her blood-streaked thighs spread wide to keep the show entertaining. Her doom was getting ever closer, and she must only have two minutes or so to live, but his orgasm was going to be timed to perfection, he’d make sure of that. Most of the eyes were fixed on her face anyway, registering every new tear, every pathetic whimper, every look of anguish as her world crumbled and her last shred of dignity was torn away from her. All he could think of though was cumming inside her. “Mmm that’s it, nice and tight, squeeze it, that’s it,” he gasped out. He could feel her starting to run out of energy and gripped tighter onto her leg, leaning them both hard up against the post and only hoping it would take the weight.
her pussy clenched a little again around him as she whimpered, screwing her eyes shut, not wanting to see the crowd before her as their words continued to rain down. Another series of noises left her lips, trying her best to be strong but it was impossible as she continued to weep bitterly.
Her tears and screams of pain only drove him on though and he bounced her faster, the wooden stake squeaking as it rubbed a nasty friction burn against her back. From the corner of his eye he was sure he caught sight of her dad, skulking over on one side, the only one in tears, apart from her, his own world shattered, seeing his own little daughter being fucked violently into oblivion, like she were nothing. Reaching around Philip pinched her sore nipples for good measure, her tits sticky with rancid juice, his orgasm finally approaching. He could hear the air rattling in her lungs as she gasped, with the smoke starting to take hold, her face now illuminated by the ravenous flames. The rim of the circular stool seat was now starting to glow as the fire crept inexorably over the edge, inching towards her one remaining foot planted in the centre.
He knew that it was now or never, and with his two colleagues racing forward ready to haul him away, he drilled with all his might into the hopeless girl. “Make me cum, there’s a good girl.. make me…” he doubted she even knew what that meant, but he continued to ram her swollen aching pussy full, his cock flexing as his balls tightened. “F… ff…fuck…!” he roared out, the sound of the crowd reaching its own climax as cheers went up, pulling him across the finish line with them. To their utter delight, and his, he made it, and fired his cum deep inside her, jetting ropes of his thick seed into her, holding himself fully inside and filling her up, waves of pure bliss rolling over him again and again. For safety’s sake he needed to pull out, he knew that, he just had to get away, but it was feeling far too good, so he kept driving in several more times, enjoying the last of her pussy and making sure all of his cum was milked out into her.
She was struggling to breathe properly by now, feeling dizzy as his hips bucked into her, every single inch of her feeling in pain as he emptied himself into her, acting as if nothing was happening and like she was the one wanting this. She whimpered as the stool became white hot, the fire licking at her foot, him still bucking into her and eking out the rest of his climax, ensuring that one of the last things she ever felt was his cum spilling into her.
“Sir please,” said one of his henchmen as the flames threatened to take hold of his boots. Reluctantly, but urgently, he pulled out of her, staggering backwards several paces and catching his breath, coming to rest at the back of the stage, out of the way of the raging heat.
By now, Carla’s thoughts were fully clouded up, and she thought she felt his hips continue to roll as he took exactly what he wanted and luxuriated in his post-orgasmic bliss. Then all of a sudden his cock left her body, and he was gone, leaving her totally alone, thoroughly ravaged. She shuddered violently, her skin starting to tingle and scorch as the choking flames reached her.
Sir Philip, felt absolutely incredible, on a cloud of ecstasy, licking his lips and trying to take in the amazing fuck he just experienced. He gulped in huge lungfuls of cold fresh air, chasing away the irritation of the smoke, his eyes watering as the pleasure continued to resound throughout his body. The cries all around returned to that of ‘burn the witch’ as he left her hanging there to her fate, helpless and hopeless, cum dribbling from her gaping hole and down her legs. He could see how the flames had now inevitably reached her and, according to the baying crowd at least, were about to send her straight into the jaws of hell.