The Rack

The guards dragged the captive by the upper arms toward the magistrate.  The effect of her shackled wrists made her auburn ringlets quiver and bounce over her shoulders as she tried to wrench her arms free of them.  The room smelled of cellar humidity, of rusted chains, of foul-breathed men rank with summer sweat.  They stroked their sandpaper beards, wiped sticky, rough hands on their burlap shirts, and licked their lips as the pretty young witch was brought to trial before them.  She twisted and pulled against them, trying to free herself, howling, "LET ME GO, PLEASE! NO! NO! PLEASE LET ME GO!"

"This court will now come to order!" boomed the magistrate.  The girl froze in place as silence suffocated the room.  Six men stood in a circle greeting the accused, each of them staring, a hungry look in their eyes.  In a meek voice she pleaded, "Dear Sirs I beg of you - I'm innocent.  I've but few years of life in my blood and have spent no time on this Earth enough to learn to be a witch!  I'm innoce--"

"SILENCE!" said her accuser.  "Guilty," said the eyes of the room of men watching her.  The air was heavy, a kind of damp moistness that chills the bones, makes skin ache for sunshine.  She felt the eyes of those around her cast down on her like fire, burning through her heavy blue apron, burning through her loose white cotton dress, burning through to each curve of her young skin.  She trembled slightly. 

No woman accused of witchcraft was ever given her freedom from this place.   Swallowing hard, a single clink of the chain between the girl's wrists testified to the gravity of her situation. 

"Remove her shackles and prepare her for the verdict!" With a sigh of relief the girl closed her eyes as the damp air blew a gust of freedom to her sore wrists.   Three days had she spent in shackles.  The release gave her hope.  She stood, tamed, silently awaiting what was to come.

"Since the girl insists she is innocent, we cannot in good justice burn her at the stake.  Instead she will be subject to the usual tests.  We will....attempt....to discover her innocence.  Should she be innocent, her purity will truely show itself, and she will be set free.  Should any display of entrancement be discovered, she shall be found impure, thus guilty, and subject to the usual criminal punishment.  The first test to determine her innocence shall be the rack."  The gavel cracked against the hard wood. 

The girl's screams echoed against the brick walls as the guards dragged her toward the rack.  The men began to cheer excitedly.  Against her battles, the guards managed to unwrap her apron from her body and pin her to the rack on her back, properly confining her wrists and ankles to the leather straps in all four corners.  The rackman pushed the pulley arm slightly, the wheel binding the girl to an outstretched position.  From under her loose white cotton, the shape of her firm breasts jiggled slightly, the hue of her nipples vaguely visible.  The shape of her taught thighs, spread slightly, could not be ignored.  The skirt draped between her legs.  The girl screamed in horror.  The men smiled.

"You will now attest to your guilt, Witch, or this machine will pull the spirits out of you.  Do you confess?"

"NO!  I'M INNOCENT I TELL YOU!"

The magistrate nodded, the rackman pushed the handle on the wheel a quarter-turn.   The girl shrieked in horror as her body was pulled to maximum stretch.  A soft cry broke across her lips.

"I ask you a second time, Witch.  Confess now and you will be freed from the rack.  Do you confess?"

Sobbing, the girl denied the charges again.  The rackman smiled, and pushed the wheel-handle another quarter turn.  The girls breasts jutted out higher, her legs spread widely and vulgarly.  The girl wailed in horror.

A friar from the monestary moved to sit beside the crying girl.  He whispered to her softly, caressing her forehead, wiping her hair from her brow, "I entreat you mistress, confess!  You will be free of these tests.  You will be burned at the stake, but your suffering will cease, and you will be free of the demon within you.   Confess, I beg you!"

The girl shook her head in negation crying; "I am no witch!"  The friar looked pleadingly at the magistrate. 

The magistrate declared, "Since her purity has not yet be ascertained, she must undergo the second test.  Friar, the examination!"

The men cheered loudly.  Slowly the friar lifted the girls dress, the soft cotton gliding over long, supple thighs, exposing the girl's womanhood to the hungry onlookers.   Higher still, the friar pulled the gauze, exposing the pert breasts, her erect nipples, her shapely wasteline.  The girl screamed, but could not kick or move to defend herself, stretched to the limit as she was.  Her body was open to any act forced on her.  The friar lay his hand on the girl's breast, first one, then the other, paying special attention to the nipples, fingering them and pinching them.  When the girl's screams became intolerable, a guard covered her mouth to muffle her. 

"Magistrate, I cannot discover purity in these breasts.  Maybe my sight fails me.  I shall proceed to the next examination."  The men cheered loudly as the friar slid his hands between the girls legs.  He stroked the girl's thighs, sliding his hands between her legs, and pried open her vaginal lips, exposing her, opening her.   He peered closely at her cunt, probing her gently.  The girl turned her head and sobbed loudly, tears running down her face in shame.

The friar shook his head, and said, "Magistrate!  I fear the girl is a witch, as I feel enticement stirring within me.  Yet I beg you - do not kill her, but proceed to the final test."

The magistrate's gavel cracked again, and he spoke, "So be it!  Each man will conduct the examination and develop his own opinion.  Unanimous decision shall be the judge. Should she be pure, and incapable of enticement, she will go free.  You may begin!"

The men lunged toward the exposed girl.  Hands roughly fondled her everywhere, mauling her breasts, covering her skin, scratching at her thighs.  Fingers shoved brutally inside her, repeatedly probing her vagina.  Sandpaper fingers pinched at her nipples.  She screamed and thrashed her head to the side, but the rack held her body in place, open to the men's whims. 

Suddenly a man lunged forward, his mouth hungrily attacking her breast.   "Friar!  I cannot help myself.  Surely the girl is a witch!  I cannot stop myself, so powerful is her entrancement!"

As though hearing a cue, suddenly each of the men became more savage.  Fingers thrust deeply inside her, and she cried in pain, agony and shame.  Mouths covered her skin, devouring her.  Strangers forced kisses on her lips, their tongues probing her mouth, exploring her body.  Through her screams, the men ravished her body like animals.

"I feel the witch inside me!  I must purify my blood!  I must release the demon from my loins!"  One of the men loosened his waist-tie, letting his pants drop below his balls.  His thick cock hung before the girl's eyes.  In terror the girl screamed again.  The man pushed the guard aside and shoved his cock into her mouth.  Trying to pull back her head, the man grabbed her hair and shoved her face full-length down his cock, forcing her to choke slightly. He grunted and thrust his hips at her savagely.

A voice shouted, "I must release the demon too!  I feel the demon inside me!" and suddenly a man leaped onto the rack platform, hovering over the girl's body, preparing to force himself into her.

Slamming deeply, the stranger took the girl's honor, insisting it was her deliberate impure enchantment that ruled his will.  "I cannot stop myself, she has power over me!   I cannot hold myself back!"  Thrusting like an angry animal, he took her forcefully, increasing the pull at the girl's wrists and ankles.  Another man forced his way to her, pushing the first aside and mashing himself into her mouth, grabbing her neck and squeezing her to keep in place. As the men brutally assaulted her, over and over again, the girl became senseless and limp, a mere toy to the men's fury.

One after another they used her, each "confessing" her power, each insisting he was helpless to stop himself.  They used her, pounding hands and cocks into her womb with animal lust and deep, savage thrusts, each having his way, expelling his demons on her belly, on her face, on her thighs.  Some men had more demon in them than others, requiring multiple exorcisms to free himself. 

The magistrate smiled.  Surely this girl was possessed with witchcraft, and should be put to death.  But what a powerful tool she could serve to regularly purify the men of the community.   He looked on hungrily as the men abused and took the girl repeatedly. 

The magistrate decided to keep the girl in the dungeons for a time, as a means of purification. 

He would have to exorcize his own demons when they finished.