A Fiendish Castignation

Elizabeth watched helplessly as the mob dragged her best friend down the cobble street. Jennifer screamed and begged for release, but her pleas for remorse and pity fell only on the ears of her close friend. Elizabeth followed the crowd as they passed Thomas’ Public House, the Hotel and the Livery, unable to get close to Jennifer.
They dragged her friend into the town square and up onto the stage that had been erected days before in celebration of the end of the witch trials. Several heads still lay in baskets from the trials that morning; sitting softly against each other as a layer of dew and mud smeared their lifeless cheeks and soiled hair. The stage was covered in blood, and in the back hung the limp corpses of a dozen other “witches,” left to be drained of all their blood before being burned in the bonfire that night.

“Even if they did catch us, what do you think they would do?” Jennifer had once said. “They would think that you and I are just rambunctious girls playing out fancies with each other.” Elizabeth had warned Jennifer of the impending possibilities; the embarrassment and possible punishments that could be conceived for them. They both knew that the city was undergoing a cleansing of witches, and that many of the citizens were wary of the judgments made against some of the people convicted of witchery. Jennifer had always been stubborn and always expressed a fondness for the possibility of being caught. It had always sounded so… erotic… to Jennifer. This in turn had always turned Elizabeth on as well, though she was less verbal of it. Once they had gone to see the butchers block up on the stage late at night. Jennifer had wanted to see the blood and hair; the gouges in the wood block signifying the decapitation of a prisoners head had aroused her on several occasions, and she often expressed this to Elizabeth. After watching Jennifer lay her own head in the stock and acting out the moans and cries of a convict and the pleas for forgiveness Elizabeth had also grown fond of the game, until now.

Now Elizabeth watched as the mob dragged the beaten Jennifer up onto the stage, hands tied and clothes tattered as the leader of the crowd stood up on a box in front of the dangling bodies and asked for the growing crowd’s attention.

“We have a heathen in our midst! A true daughter of demons!” The man cried out. “This girl was found on several occasions to be tempting the sweetness of another child… another GIRL!!!” The crowd gasped and booed. Elizabeth cried out, though no one heard her.

“So what is to become of this girl? Do we rehabilitate her into our clean and pure society? Do we allow her to run free with our children?” The crowd answered with a distasteful and disgusted roar. 

“Do we punish her and send her to the pits of hell where she belongs? With the other witches?” Elizabeth screamed and tore through the crowd, trying to reach the stage.
“Stop it! Stop it! NO!” She cried, her shrieks drowned out by the enthusiastic calls of the crowd.

She reached the stage in time to see the man strip off the last of her garments and leave her shivering on the stage with the cold and drizzle. Her nipples were hard from the cold, her breasts heaving from her being out of breath. She had been crying, and the crowd had worn her out beyond being able to fight any more. She looked out over the crowd, and found Elizabeth’s face.

“Liza!” She sobbed as the man grabbed the back of her hair and walked her over to the block.

“Your time with that girl is over, witch!” He yelled at her. “Now is the time to drain the demons that live inside you through your exposed neck!” With that the man kicked the back of her leg, dropping her to her knees.

“Stop! Please let her Go!” Elizabeth screamed, her tears choking her voice.

“I’ll do anything, please sir don’t do this. I’m not a witch.” Jennifer begged as the man tied her hands behind her bare back and pushed her body down onto the block. Elizabeth overheard the man next to her comment about the long black stockings that Jennifer still wore and how much he wanted to spear her after the trial was over. The comment made Elizabeth ill. She had been franticly trying to save her friend from the crowd since they ripped her from the room an hour before; now thoughts of Jennifer dying crossed her mind. She would be alone in this world without her. Images of her friends head rolling across the stage to the cheers of the mob flooded Elizabeth’s mind.

“Sir, I know that there has to be something I can do for you… anything? Just to let me go?!” Jennifer pleaded.

“Yeah, now you offer me a sweet piece of meat dontcha?” He replied under his breath. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with me until your life was in my hands. Well guess what, when I’m done with you here I’m going to have my way with you. I just need to do this so as to have more of you to stick my spike in!”
“Sure, but wouldn’t it be sooo much better if I were alive and kicking?”
“Nope.”
“And warm?”
“Nope.” The man pulled her hair back and laid it over her face, then strapped the sticky piece of leather to the base of her skull and lashed it down. Jennifer choked and coughed as her head pressed against the block.
“Please?”
The man got up and stepped back, but not before running a hand down her slick wet body and between her legs.
“A fine thoroughbred, she is.” He yelled to the cheering crowd. “She wants reprieve, what do ye say?”
The crowd answered back with a bellow of calls against her freedom. The man spanked her as and stuck two fingers into her tightly clenched pussy. She tried to make it wet; to get aroused in an attempt to persuade him to let her live and see if she could be better, but it was lost cause. Though the thought of having her head removed by the ax had turned her on in the past; of being manhandled and tortured and berated at the hand of a truly masculine man, it did nothing for her now.
“You are a sweet piece of meat darling.” He said.
“Please sir, I will do anything… anything.”

Elizabeth watched as Jennifer pleaded. She hoped that maybe her friend could do something to convince the man to let her go. She watched as the ax rose above his head, despite her continual and growing pleas.
“Please sir, I will do ANYTHING!”
The ax rose higher.
“You can put it in my mouth and pump my stomach full of your cream!”
“Nope.” He returned as he let the ax jump slightly before release.
“I’ll go with you and another girl, we can all of us do anything for you, we’ll live…” The ax came and landed against the base of her skull mid sentence. It shut off her words and shocked her body, as could clearly be seen by the writhing and convulsions of her cadaver as it rolled from the block and onto the stage in front of Elizabeth. She paid no attention to the man as he took the removed head, fresh off the body and still quivering from the blow, and placed his exposed member into its mouth. She didn’t watch as he pressed himself down the throat of her once beloved friend, or listen as he moaned and squirted between the lips that had once so softly touched her own. She only sat and watched as the body on the ground kicked and wriggled. Blood rushed onto the stage from the exposed neck; air escaped the lungs of the corpse in short gasps through the uncovered wind-pipe. Elizabeth dropped to her knees in silence, and cried.

When he had finished with the skull he tossed it into a basket that lay next to the chopping block. Inside her head came to rest next to the head of a prostitute who had once worked on the man’s corner. Though smeared with blood, mud and now the man’s semen, and lacking any controlled movement, Jennifer’s eyes remained unclouded for fifteen minutes. In that time they had fixed on the fresh corpse that was wrapped and strung upside down next to a dairy farmer’s wife and left to bleed. As the heart pumped he remainder of the blood from the soiled body and it became limp and lifeless, so too did the eyes in Jennifer’s head, and the mob continued on to other matters.