alquis

The author's note:

The persons and events in this story are fictitious. Any similarity to
actual or historical persons or events is unintentional.

Some parts of the story are paraphrased form Kirsten Smart's story
Wendy. I have the explicit permission of the author to use her works.



An illustration borrowed from Roberto Carlo. PICTURE



Aliquisï¿½ mistake



The guards lead me into a dim lit room. I was brought with my hands
locked in shackles behind my back, barefoot in jeans and a white
shirt, a guard on each arm and two more behind. I was frightened, but
I tried to hide it.

"This is my choice." I said to myself.

In the room, a woman waited. She was dressed a conservatively; a white
sleeveless blouse and a fitted pinstripe skirt over knee-high
stockings: nothing too sexy, although the skirt had a side-split to
mid thigh. She had dark eyes and a strict look on her face.

I looked straight into her eyes.

"So, you are the young one who is willingly submitted himself to being
put to the question," she asked.

"Yes, madam."

"My name is Kirsten, and I am one the leaders of the Witchseekers. I'd
like you to know that just because you are a willing victim, don't
think we'll go easy on you."

I swallowed, but kept my voice clear. "I understand that, madam."

"How old are you?"

"I'm eighteen, madam."

"And why have decided to come here?"

"Because of my parents."

She raised her eyebrows.

I continued. "My parents were practitioners of the Black Arts. They
used unholy magic. I hate them. I despise them because their existence
in itself is a blasphemy."

"Hard words, from the mouth of their child."

I turned my head down. "They were bad people. I don't want to be one
of their kind. I want to prove that I am different. I don't want to be
hunted my whole life."

"To prove what you say, we must put you through some horrible
tortures, so that the truth will be forced from you."

I nodded. "I ï¿½ I know."

"Fine. Guards, strip him!" she ordered.

The guards were not gentle; they wrenched my jeans and underwear down,
and physically tore the shirt from my body. The clothes then were
heaped onto a brazier, where they smouldered, and then burst into
flames. There was no turning back.

I stood naked in front of the woman. She laid her dark eyes on me.

I knew what she saw:

I was 6'1", slightly tanned, and really well-built. I had been
swimming since I was 10 and I spent two hours a day in the fitness
center regularly. My chest and my armpits were shaved, so was my groin
and legs. I was prepared for the examination. I even purged my bowels
before coming to the Chateau. My hair was dark blond, my eyes hazel. I
had goosebumps, and felt really vulnerable standing the middle of
chilly room, examined by these emotionless people.

"Really cute body you have. You must have a lot of work with it."

"Y-yes, madam."

"Your girlfriend likes your body hairless?" she smiled at me.

"I never had a girlfriend, madam." I felt my cheeks blush red.

"Oh! So you're a virgin, eh?" she laughed, and the guards laughed with
her.

I stood there totally ashamed.

"Whatever. Guards, tie his hands in front of him and lift his arms."

They did as she said.

When I raised my arms, Kirsten came closer and touched my six-packed
abdomen. Then, she moved her smooth palm all over my body. She leaned
closer and she looked as she were looking for something. Then she
moved behind me.

"Lean forward, and grab your ankles."

After I did it, she pulled away my ass-cheeks. It was really
humiliating. My anus was shaved too.

"No marks or signs. But that doesn't prove anything." she looked
deeply into my eyes. "I ask you the first time: Are you a warlock? Do
you have any unholy power?"

"No, madam, I do not have any of that."

"Do you know any witches or warlocks?" she started to walk around me.

"No, madam." I replied.

"And your parents, boy?"

"They died half-year ago. In a car accident."

She stopped in front of me.

"I see. So, you're stating that you have no connection by any means
with witchcraft."

"As you say so, madam."

"Fine. But as you may know, I have to get an evidence of that. You
have to prove that you are innocent."

I became confused. How should I prove my own innocence? It's nonsense!

"I'm afraid, I don't understand, madam." I said.

"You are considered to be an apprentice in witchcraft. Now, I have to
get the Truth from you - with force, if it is necessary."

"But I told you, I am innocent. That's why I came here!"

"This could be some kind of trickery. I'm accusing you of witchcraft.
If you confess it now, you can save yourself from some very bad
experiences."

"B-but if I confess that you will burn me at the stake!!" my voice was
filled with fear and confusion.

"Of course we will!" laughed Kirsten.

"But this is an impossible choice! You'll torture me until I confess!"
I almost cried in panic.

"Not quite. Now you are able to say your pitiful lies; but when you
suffer tortures that you cannot possibly imagine, you will tell me the
Truth.  So, I ask it once more, do you confess that you are familiar
with dark powers?"

I took a deep breath. There was no escape. I didn't want to die, my
only choice was denial.

"No."



2.

"All right then. We will continue in the torture chamber. Bring him!"

The two man dragged me by my arms and took me to the torture chamber.
The air was quite chilly. There were a vast collection of torture
devices in the room: a rack and a wheel-rack, a stocky wooden throne,
a St Andrew's cross, and tables with the most varied tools on them.
There were whips, crops, pliers and clamps of all sizes. The room was
lit by torches on the wall.

"Put him on the rack!" Kirsten ordered the guards.

The rack was an age-old stretching-machine. It was made of oak,
probably three meters long. At the foot of the rack there were stocks
to hold the feet, and at the top there was a heavy roller with a thick
rope on it. At the middle of the rack, a rusty steel grate was
inserted, half a meter across, with 2-inch wide holes.

One guard pushed me to the rack, then grabbed me under my arms, and
simply laid me on the rough wooden bed. Another caught my feet and
quickly closed them into the stock, meanwhile the first attached the
ropes around my wrists. After barely a half minute I lay on the rack,
stark naked, with slightly stretched arms. My heart was fluttering as
I started to realize what kind of trouble I had got myself into.

Despite the cold in the torture chamber, I began to sweat. I raised my
head a bit: my chest was lifted, and I could saw my ribs under my
muscles. My nipples were erect because of the cold. I tested the
tightness of my ropes - they were like steel, I could move slightly
side to side, and lift my body slightly, but I knew that when they
started to turn the roller, I wouldn't be able to move anywhere.

"Let's start!" said Kirsten, and the guard turned the handle of the
roller. Clicking sounds came from the roller - one, two, three and
four - as the gear turned. The ropes started to shorten, my body
lengthened. My arms and legs lifted slightly from the surface of the
rack. The ropes bit into my wrists, the stocks into my ankles. The
feeling was similar to a long, morning stretch, but it slowly became
uncomfortable. I knew it would get soon much worse.

The guard waited for a half minute, then turned the handle again.

The bite of the ropes became painful. My ribcage lifted and my back
arched. The pain slowly began to spread in my muscles. I clenched my
teeth, my body began to sweat. At this point I could see my own ribs
clearly in my chest.

Another turn.

The pain stabbed into my shoulders. My back taut and I felt a
deepening pain in my abdomen. Only my buttocks were in touch with the
rack at this point, putting almost all of my whole body-weight on my
overstrung limbs.

The guard waited. In the torture chamber only the fluttering sound of
the torches - and my heavy breaths - could be heard. Kirsten looked
down on me with an insensitive face.

The roller turned.

The moan broke forth from me quietly and slowly. I was struggling to
overcome the constantly-growing pain. My muscles and tendons were taut
as steel cables. I grabbed the ropes with my hands as I tried to
resist with all of the strength of my body. But it was futile. Even my
young and well-built body wasn't a match for the rack. The ropes
creaked, but that was all. I began to panic. And the interrogation had
barely started!

"Confess that you made a pact with the Devil!" Kirsten demanded. Her
voice cut like a knife into the silence of the torture chamber.

"No! I did not!" I said, frightened. "It's not true!"

Kirsten only nodded to the guard. The man turned the handle firmly -
twice.

My spine popped. The sparks of pain came alive in my hips, I felt
liquid fire in my arms. My belly was hollowing and as an unconscious
reflex of the stretching I tried to raise my chest to avoid somehow
the pain but it was useless. The shout burst out from me more loudly,
but didn't last long because sharp pain stabbed into my ribcage  My
voice was full of despair. My eyes got wet.

"What kind of trouble have I got myself into!" I thought hysterically.

"Oooh" I moaned. "It hurts..."

"I know it hurts. But we only do this for your own sake," replied
Kirsten quietly.  But there was no sign of compassion in her voice.
"The Truth has to be revealed at all cost!" She stepped closer to my
head and began to caress my taut chest muscles.

"But what I said is the truth!"

"You know, when the agonizing pain wipes everything out from your
mendacious mind, there will be no other but the Truth." She stepped
away from me. "Now, tell me, and tell the Truth, have you negotiated
with Devil or its servants? Do you have any unnatural or unholy
power?"

"NO! I don't have any!" I shouted.

"Another notch!"

"No, please, noo!" I cried, but the wheel turned and pain like a never-
vanishing tide filled my body. Because of some inexplicable reason I
tried to lift my chest higher and higher in order to get rid of the
excruciating pain. I barely could catch a breath, my tears shrouded my
sight.

Kirsten waited until my body got used to the tension then asked again:
"Do you have any magickal power? Have you made pacts with the Devil?"

"No, oh my God, no!!! I can't bear more pain, please, it hurts so
much, please stop..." I sobbed.

"Another turn!"

"Nooo!" Every bit of my desperation was in the wail that exploded from
me. The pain overwhelmed everything. After a few seconds, my I lost my
breath. Only a whimpering sound came. The world started to fade.

But after a while, my body slowly acclimatized and I could breathe -
and beg - again.  "In the name of Christ I beg to you, don't do this
to me, oh my God it hurts..."

"The faith won't ease your pain. Only the confession of your sins!"
Kirsten shouted at me.

"I am innocent, please, believe it, you have to believe it!" I cried.

Kirsten looked at Austin. "Let's give the boy some time to think.
Don't go anywhere!" she smiled at me.

"No, you can't leave me just here! No, please!"

But Kirsten and the two men had left.

I have no idea how much time passed. While I was left alone in the
chamber, I discovered new dimensions of pain. I was in frenzy of
despair. My body was trembling as I tried to somehow ease the horrible
tension in my muscles and tendons. But the rack held me firmly. I knew
that it was completely pointless to scream, I would only cause more
pain to myself.

So I waited, and suffered like hell.



After an eternity the heavy iron door creaked, and my torturers came
back.

"Well, my dear volunteer friend, have you made up your mind?" Kirsten
asked scornfully.

"I said all I know to you. Whether you believe or..."

"Not," finished Kirsten. "Itï¿½s fine. We will continue
your
interrogation."

She turned to the silent guard: "Steve, bring the brazier, please!"

The sturdy man put on a pair of thick leather gloves then walked to a
corner of the chamber. When he came back, he was carrying a big iron
brazier full of red-hot coals. Several wooden-handled pokers were
thrust among the coals. I could feel the heat coming from the brazier
when he put it down next to the rack. The air was shimmering over the
brazier, and my fear turned into panic. I couldn't turn my eyes from
the dreadful sight. The elemental fear of the fire grabbed my bowels.

"Put it under him!" ordered Kirsten.

Steve pushed the brazier under the rack, precisely below the grate. I
immediately felt the heat coming from beneath on my sweaty, bare ass
instead of the cold air of the room.

Steve attached a big set of bellows to the side of the brazier.
Already I could feel the heat of the coals clearly beneath me; it
didn't burn, but I knew that would change soon.

I didn't have to wait too long. After a few seconds I felt the
perspiration begin to run hot on my ass. I tried to lift myself higher
from the grate, but it was impossible. I started to whimper again as I
tried to fight against the growing pain.

"Save yourself from this pain, and confess!" Kirsten leaned closer to
my face.

"I must not say that! It is not true! Not true! I'm not the servant of
the Devil! Please, believe me!"

"Even if I did, my child, I have to get proof." Kirsten turned towards
Steve, "But I do not believe."

The man pumped the handles of the bellows. The fresh air gave new life
to the coals, and the effect was instantaneous, as if was put on a hot
stove. I yowled like an animal as the ruthless heat of the fire seared
my exposed ass. I was nearly dancing on the rack, even if this seemed
impossible a few minutes ago. The drops of perspiration hissed under
the rack. My body was taut like a bow, every muscle trying to keep me
up at all costs.

Steve pressed the bellows continually.

"Aaaaa, nooo, aaaaieeeeee!!!" I wasn't able to control myself.

Then he suddenly stopped.



I flopped down to the rack, but raised myself again at once, shouting.
The grate was burning hot. I was arching my body frantically to keep
my ass above the rack. Eventually, I managed to find a point where I
could keep myself high enough to not touch the grate. There were only
a few millimeters between me and the hot steel. My muscles were
stretched to breaking point, and I knew I couldn't hold this position
for long. My whole body was trembling because of the inhuman pose.

I cried as I was trying to save myself: "Oh, Jesus, my ass, oh God, it
burns, it burns me! Please stop! Let me go, please!"

"It shouldn't be this way. Tell it. The Truth will deliver you," said
my torturer.

I closed my eyes, and denied wordlessly.

"So be it! Steve, more heat!"

The bellows started to breath again, and the embers flared. I cried
and howled endlessly as the crimson tongues of the coals scorched my
ass red. My body was covered with sweat, my face with tears, snot and
saliva. My ass was on fire. The pain was unbearable.

"AAAAAAAAA, STOOOOOP, IT BUUURNS, PLEASE, OH GOD, I CAN'T STAND IT,
MERCYYYY!!!"

"CONFESS! Confess and I will stop it right now!" her voice was almost
pleading.

Then it happened. I couldn't hold myself anymore. I flopped again. It
was a thundering mistake. Although the steel wasn't red hot, I was
being fried on it. My bare ass hissed, but its sound was drowned by my
wail. I hitched myself up immediately, but with this move I strained
my overtaut muscles and would have fallen back - but Kirsten grabbed
my cock and held me up by it. Her grip was surprisingly strong. I
dreaded the moment when she would release me.

"Tell me the Truth, and I will finish this torture! Confess for God's
sake!" she shouted the last sentence.

"No! NO!" I screamed hysterically.

Kirsten released me. But by that time I regain some strength to held
my ass up.

"Oh! So you're in such a good shape!" Kirsten raised her eyebrows.
"Austin, two more notches, if I might ask."

The roller moved. Click, click.

I screamed like a madman, my body stretched, my bones made popping
sounds and finally my ass touched the grate. The fire burned my ass.
My body went up and down like a leaf spring but I couldn't keep my
body up for second.

"Confess, you stubborn fool! Confess!!!"

I was not able to speak jut scream inarticulately.

The world started to fade. At the edge of my consciousness, I felt the
someone slid a wooden pallet above the grate. Then the darkness ate up
everything.



3.

Distant sounds. The voice of a man and a woman.

"I don't know, Zell, I really don't know. This boy came here by its
own will. Perhaps we'd never have caught him, if he didnï¿½t want to
be
caught." said the woman.

"And this excludes the fact the he might be one of them?" replied the
man in a quiet, hoarse voice.

"No. But he denied it all the time - that's a fact."

"They all do the same, Kirsten. You know this as well as I do. And the
stakes are high. The Truth must be revealed! I truly want to believe
that the kid is innocent. But we have to make sure, donï¿½t we?"

"Yes, I think you're right, Zell."

"Then, with your approval, Iï¿½ll take over. But I'd like you to
stay
."

"As you wish."

"Austin, wake the boy up!" ordered the man.

Ice-cold water splashed on me and I suddenly became totally wide
awake. The water cut my heated body as a rusty blade.

I was still lying on the rack, taut, but in a nearly bearable measure.
My ass was hurting badly.

A man stood next to me. Thin lips, ice cold blue eyes.

"My name is Zell: I am the chief inquisitor of the chateau. I know why
are you here. I also know that you came here by your own decision. For
that, I want you to know I utterly respect you. But this won't keep me
away from my duty: to reveal the Truth about you.ï¿½

He paused for a minute and studied my face. "I'm really sorry that we
have to cause you pain, but - as you already know - according to our
faith, the pain, and only the pain, can reveal the Truth. Therefore I
ask: Have you ever made a pact with the Prince of Darkness? Do you
possess any unholy power?

I answered in a wobbly voice: "I can only repeat what I've said."

"In that case, I have no other choice but to continue your
interrogation."

Zell turned to Steve. "Draw back his penis!"

I whined loudly when I heard the order.

"W-what are you going to do?" I was close to tears again and I
awkwardly tried to move myself away to protect my groin but it was
useless.

Steve grabbed my sweaty cock into his calloused hands and drew it to
my navel. I felt that the fear would drive me crazy.

Zell took my exposed ball-sack between his thumb and first finger, and
with a few quick moves he looped a string around my scrotum. Then he
took out a metal device from his robe. Basically two, slightly bent
metal plates connected by a wing-nut. He showed it to me, while
explaining its function.

"This is a ball crusher" started Zell. "As you can see, the plates can
be moved closer together or farther apart by turning the nut."

I gazed at the dreadful device.

"Now, I will attach this - oh beg your pardon" he took out another one
from his pocket "these - to your testicles." And so he did. I felt the
cruel-cold touch, and the heaviness of the iron on my tender skin. The
fear lurked in my bowels.

"Don't do it, for God's sake, please!" I cried despairingly. Zell
removed the string from my ball sack, Steve released my penis too.

" I promise that I will try not to ruin your manhood completely, but
after all this depends on you. I will start with your left testicle. I
honestly hoped that this wouldnï¿½t have to be done, but I do not hav
e a
choice." He turned the wing-nut. The cups eased more tightly to my
delicate flesh. Then after my whimper he slowed down.

Long time ago, in my childhood, a ball was kicked into my groin with a
ball. It hurt like hell. But this was an entirely different feeling.
It was slower and insidious. It became stronger and deeper with every
heartbeat.

Zell stopped. My ball was in pain, but I could stand it without
shouting.

Fear is a most talented torturer. I saw that the two assistants turned
away. Kirsten studied my face inquiringly. Zell looked deeply into my
eyes.  Then he turned back to my groin. He put his hand on the
wingnut. But he didn't move. My testicle was throbbing. Only my heavy
breathing broke the silence.

Then, the torture master made a quick movement.

I gave out a harsh howl as the pain hit me. "Oh, goood!" I couldn't
even catch a breath. The pain starting from my ball crawled up into my
guts. I was twitching and jerking on the rack.

"Confess!" he uttered.

I shook my head frantically.

He turned the nut again. The plates mercilessly moved closer to each
other; there was no escape from their grip. I could feel my ball
flattening. I screamed like a little girl, my screams loudly proving
the victory of steel over flesh. I tried anything to throw that
infernal device off. I moved my hips if I was having sex. It was a
ridiculous effort. My body was wet.

"Pleeeease, take it oooff! Have mercy, pleehheeheeasee!" I cried and
howled. I wailed as long as my breath lasted: then, only some kind of
agonized whimper came out. I couldn't even think or  beg.

"Look at his cock! Itï¿½s getting hard!" I heard Kirsten's
voice.
"Interesting, isn't it?"

"Indeed. I read something about this in the Witchhammer of Nuremburg.
It says that the Devil sometimes beds himself in the testicles of
young boys and steals the manpower from them in order to inseminate
his own succubi.

"So I've heard. Do you that maybe he is..."

"I don't think anything. I'm looking for the Truth." cut in Zell. He
reached for the wing-nut again.

"Oh, for the love of Jesus Christ, noo! I'll do anything, just take it
off! Please, I beg you, don't do iit!!!"

"Then confess!" yelled Zell. "Confess and I'll end this torture at
once!"

I didn't know what to do or say. Perhaps I remained silent far to
long, because Zell, with a quick move, turned the nut again.

I can't describe the voice that came from my throat. I screamed and
screamed in endless agony. I think I vomited up something, although my
stomach was empty. My whole body was trembling and shaking. I felt
like my testicle was going to burst out from its sack. But that wasn't
what blew out: suddenly, an enormous amount of sperm spouted out from
my cock spasmodically. The crusher literally squeezed the sperm out of
my ball.

Although some luscious sounds could be heard in my shriek, the pain
didn't ease.

"Apage Satanas!" shouted the man and crossed himself. "You see? It is
the mark of the Devil! I knew it!"

I cried desperately and silently. The pain prevented me from more.

Zell took a deep breath and grabbed the crusher again. He had started
to screw it when I shouted: "Waaait! I confess! I confess it! Just
stop it!"

"At last!" exclaimed Kirsten.

"Say it," said Zell, "and I take it off."

I took all my strength and started to sputter. "Sometimes, at night,
voices talk to me. Laughter, erotic moans...I can even smell
sulphurous smell. By then I have to..."

"Have to what?!" urged Zell.

"Have to masturbate. Not only once, but at all night...and those
voices...they laugh at me ...oh God...take it off, pleaseee" my voice
gasped because of the throbbing pain in my groin.

Zell and Kirsten looked at each other. Zell said, "I'll make the
report for the Headquarters. Until then, release him from the rack and
take him into a cell. Make sure that a doctor sees him. Perhaps we
will have to continue the interrogation."

He left the chamber.

I was barely aware of what happened next. Somebody took the crusher
off, then I must have fainted, because I came around in a small, wet
cell, lying on a rugged pallet naked and shivering.  Although my
joints ached a lot, it was nothing compared the unceasing pain in my
testicle. I was lying in fetal posture. My last awareness was a woman
doctor who shot an injection into my groin.



3.

I had no idea how much time had passed, as there werenï¿½t any window
s
in my cell. My captors gave me some nearly-edible food and water, but
nothing else. The doctor examined me a couple of times, but didnï¿½t
answer any of my questions.

When the rusty door opened, Kirsten entered with two guards behind
her. Fear bit into my bowels immediately. I scrambled to the farthest
corner of the cell.

"Take him!" said ordered.

"Hey, what are you going to do with me?!" I shouted.

"Shut your filthy mouth up or Iï¿½ll rip your tongue out!"
she uttere
d.

I didnï¿½t dare to make even a whimper.

The guards dragged me out and literally dragged me through some torch-
lit corridors, until we arrived in a chamber.  Several armchairs on a
podium faced an object covered by a sheet. A number of stylishly-
dressed people sat in the armchairs, drinking wine and chatting with
each other.

The guards stood me next to the sheet-draped object.

"Ladies and gentlemen, honorable guests, Your Excellence! May I have
your attention?" said Kirsten.

All eyes turned to us. The men looked stern, but some younger ladies
smiled and giggled at my nakedness. In the first row sat an elderly
man, wearing some kind of clerical dress. He also looked at me very
strictly.

"Iï¿½m proud to be here and lead this interrogation in your
honorable
company. Some of you have already seen my invention at work, but for
most of you it is the first chance to see this delightful device of
persuasion." The crowd clapped and Kirsten continued. "I proudly
present the Smart Chair to you!" she pulled off the sheet and unveiled
the dreadful device.

The chair was made of iron. The focal point of this 'chair' was a
blunt, vertical spike. Also iron, fifteen inches tall and five inches
diameter at its base. A toothed iron rail formed the 'back' of the
chair, mounted on which was a narrow carriage, fitted with manacles
for wrists and elbows and a leather strap for the torso, with a hand-
crank so the torturer may raise or lower it a fraction of an inch at a
time.

"As you can see, this magnificent device is basically an impaling
machine," explained Kirsten.

Impaling. The most dreaded word of my life. When I was a schoolboy I
read a book about medieval executions. I always thought that impaling
was the worst of all. And now I gazed at the dire spike in total
terror.

"My assistants will now secure the boy to the chair."

Steve and Austin stepped forward, grabbed my arms, and pushed me in
front of the chair, facing the crowd. As I realized what would come
next, I tried to got free and started to beg harrowingly.

"Please, for all the saints, nooo..." I couldn't finish because Steve
punched my stomach. I doubled over and gasped for breath, but during
this time the men forced me to straddle the chair. The deadly spike
stood between my spread legs, its tip barely two inches below my anus.
I gave a long cry of dread when my arms were pulled behind me, forced
into the manacles of the raised carriage at the back of the chair. My
elbows, first, were squeezed cruelly together behind me, barely four
inches apart and restricting my ability to struggle. The strain was
evident in the tension of my hardy pectoral muscles, the definition of
my triceps; but more distracting in the way my ribcage and chest was
thrust up-and-out. My wrists were snapped into the lower two manacles,
pressing my spine against the adjustable carriage.

Then, a leather strap, also anchored on the carriage, was passed
around my lower ribcage - securing my torso as Austin pulled it tight.
My feet were forced into the ankle manacles, low on either side of the
chair's base, spreading my thighs. It took me off balance, putting
most of my weight on my arms. I was in a frantic panic. I tried to
struggle, but it was completely useless.

I crouched there stark naked, in front of a bunch of strangers,
straddling the chair, the spike poised below my ass. My chest was
heaving with fearful breaths, my nipples standing in defiance of the
chill air, while a cold sweat crept over my exposed body.

Steve gave the bindings a final check, then signaled the all clear,
and the guards stepped back.

"Now, honorable guests, let me explain the mechanism of my invention."
Kirsten walked behind me." At this point, the spike is pointing to the
boy's ass. When I turn this handle, the carriage will push his arms
lower, forcing him to crouch until the spike reaches his anus. After a
few notches, the spike will intrude into the rectum, and later into
the sigmoid colon, causing an unbearable pain. Moreover the anus will
be forced wider and wider which is also extremely painful." The crowd
hummed admiringly. Kirsten smiled.

"Before I start the questioning, I'd like to delineate other features
of the Chair." Kirsten stepped to me. "There is a chute beneath the
'seat' of the chair leading to an insulated firebox, and an adjustable
series of vents in the seat itself, to channel hot air. If the subject
is too reluctant we will fill the box with hot coals to prod him to
confession."

The people looked at me curiously, the ladies drew their coats tighter
and started to whisper.

"Your Excellence!" Kirsten addressed the cleric. "You examined Zell's
and my report of the previous interrogation, and you concluded that
this boy is in connection with the Black Arts."

The cleric nodded sagely. "Do you have anything to say before we start?
ï¿½

ï¿½My dear child, look inside your very soul and confess your sins no
w.
Save yourself from the torture. Confession will liberate you!" his
eyes glowed with fanaticism.

"I have nothing else to say!" I sobbed. "You want me to burn but God
will give me strength to endure and prove my innocence!"

The cleric nodded. "All right then, torturer, do your duty."

At that moment, I made a promise to myself. I would hold on, whatever
it took. I would not give in to this wicked woman! I clenched my
teeth, held my breath and waited.

After a few seconds, Kirsten turned the handle. The carriage descended
a quarter-inch. My ass moved closer to the tip of the spike. I
struggled to raise myself, but the manacles held me tight.

After the next turn, the end of the spike touched the inner part of my
ass-cheeks. I squeaked a bit, then restrained myself, surprised by the
cold touch of the iron.

"Austin, take the handle, please." said Kirsten and crouched down
behind me and grabbed my hips with her firm hands.

"Turn it!" she ordered. As the carriage moved again, Kirsten directed
my hips until the tip of the spike reached my asshole.

Another turn, and the malicious iron penetrated my anus by a quarter
inch.

I made a short shrill cry, and the crowd hummed louder, the ladies
rose from their seats to have a better view.

The iron didn't hurt me, yet my rectal muscles involuntarily tried to
push it out. After a few moments, my muscles started to spasm due to
the useless efforts. I closed my eyes and tried to endure as long as
could without screaming.



Kirsten now gave several turns of the handle, and I sank a whole inch
down onto the spike. I felt clearly that the iron was spreading my
sphincter wider and probing deeper inside me. I made a long, loud
moan.

Surprisingly, the crowd began to laugh.

I opened my eyes and saw that the ladies were chuckling and the men
were smiling. Some of the younger girls were pointing at my groin. The
cleric crossed himself.

I looked down and saw that my penis was hard like a rock. I was
totally ashamed. It was more humiliating that anything in my whole
life.

"Look, what have we here!" laughed Kirsten.

The tension in my rectum was really painful, but I forgot it for a
moment as I saw my throbbing cock: the spike pressed my prostate,
causing my erection.

"I'm sure itï¿½s at least as good as the Devil's cock!"
mocked Kirste
n.
"Tell us, you filthy boy, have you fornicated with the Devil?"

She didn't even wait  for my reply, just turned the handle again. The
spike pushed itself deeper into my anus by another half inch. Tension
immediately turned into a sharp pain as my internal muscles flexed and
spasmed around the intrusion in a reflexive action, but I couldn't
eject it. My cock slowly became reddish, the veins could be seen
clearly on its shaft.  I gave another moan. My voice was filled with
anguish andï¿½with pleasure.

Then the worst followed. Another turn - at this point my sphincter was
spread by an inch and two inches inside - a thick spurt of semen shot
out from my cock. It was an unimaginable pleasure but harsh pain
followed.

The girls were laughing but the old cleric shouted to them:

"Silence! Order!"

Tears streamed down on my face because of the awful humiliation. I
closed my eyes and tried not to listen to the scornful crowd.

Minutes passed and I became rested a little. When I opened my eyes I
saw that my cock had become limp and a few drops of sperm dripping
from it.

Kirsten bent towards me. "Say that you are a warlock."

I shook my head. "If I say that you'll burn me!"

"You can bet on that. But I will let you up from the Chair. Do you
think that you can endure this?" she smiled evilly. "No, my dear
child. This is only the beginning. You are going to experience such
pain that you've never dreamed of."

The people watched, enthralled at my pain, entertained and aroused by
my suffering. To make her point, Kirsten turned the handle one, two,
three times.

Only a tiny inch. The unforgiving iron probed in me further on. I gave
the first shout of pain. From that moment I forgot my audience, and
the humiliation. I only tried to hold on as long as I could, feeling
that the iron would break my resistance soon. I couldnï¿½t imagine th
at
a human being could possibly survive this. All my muscles were
straining, the sweat shone on my body.

Another minute passed. Then I heard the clicking noise. Four times.
The carriage descended, forcing me down. The ever-widening
circumference of the spike slid into my rectum, stretching my
sphincter, and the pain was growing incrementally.

I was breathing loudly and heavily. Fat droplets of sweat flowed down
from my face. I struggled with clenched teeth, but gave no sound other
than a faint groan.

I heard that Kirsten reaches for the handle again. I braced myself.
But then a high voice asked:

"Please, Mistress Kirsten, may I ask a question?" A young girl, barely
eighteen, dressed very extravagantly.

"But of course, my dear! Please!"

"Why not just crank him all the way down, right now?" asked the young
blonde, with a mischievous tone in her voice.

"Too fast, and he'll tear," she replied, and found the next notch. My
body was shoved down onto the spike, I barked in pain, my head
rolling. "It has to be done slowly, so his body has time to
accommodate it. Moreover, if he doesnï¿½t confess, he must be allowed
to
go free without life-threatening injuries " Click.

"Oh, Goood!" I moaned. The first real strain on my resistance.

"Confess now!" urged Kirsten.

"No, no, noo!"

Click, click; the hard iron drove another half inch into my asshole,
and this time I gave a cry of pain. My internal muscles were cramping
and spasming urgently, and the chair was beginning to deliver its
potential. The veins on my neck stood out in my efforts to endure; I
was breathing like I was running.

Click.

"Please, stoop!"

Click.

"Please!!!" I called out. My anus had been spread nearly two inches,
and it hurt. Tears began to spill from my eyes.

"Be careful, dear guests! This is a critical stage. We mustn't let
compassion influence us. Pain in the extreme is the only way to cut
through the lies a witch or warlock tells to save his flesh; and this
young one is not even close to suffering the way he eventually must. I
give his body time to adjust to the latest intrusion of the spike. We
have to wait a bit. Please, have another drink, meanwhile!"

While the waiters served the wine, the pain in my rectum became worse.
All my muscles were in a cramp. I heard people remarking that the
chair appeared to be working. Some of the women were delighted by my
nakedness.

The young lady who asked Kirsten a question said: "He definitely has a
gorgeous body. It's a real shame to waste it."

Kirsten laughed and said: "Don't be afraid, my dear, he is a tough
one. If the Chair won't break him, other devices will."

"Oh, I'm sure you have many ways to make a heretic talk."

"Are you interested? Perhaps we should talk later about this."

"That would be great, Mistress Kirsten!" replied the girl.

Nearly 5 minutes passed, and Kirsten came back tom me. She stood
beside me, and with gentle fingers, stroked my wet hair and shoulders,
collecting some droplets of sweat from my tanned skin.

"Okay, do you want to confess?"

I remained silent.

"I thought so," she said, and turned the handle. Two notches. I moved
lower on the iron spike. The tip probed deep inside my bowels while
its circumference forced my anus wider. I wailed with renewed pain and
humiliation. Five inches of the spike was in me. My anus was spread by
two and a half inches.

"Oh, God! Stop, please, stop!"

But she didn't stop. Relatively fast, she administered several
notches. I cried, wailed, shouted - but did not confess.

Then she waited a few minutes.

By now, the chamber was in silence. Only my heavy breathing could be
heard. The mirth and entertained smiles of earlier had gone from my
audience, now. They knew that this had entered the realms of true
torture. Most of them stared at me, impressed. I could hear the young
lady whispering to her hand-maiden. "He suffers magnificently! I must
have him!

As the next notch pushed me further down the spike, I gave a contralto
scream of pain, my head back, and my mouth wide.

I was only halfway.

Click, click; as I was impaled further, the pain grew and spread.

"No! No, I can't take it!" I  howled.



Over the next twenty minutes Kirsten impaled me further down.

Reaching two-thirds of the spike, my ruthless torturer stopped. I
barely had strength to beg or cry.

"Now. Confess." Her voice seemed so faint and distant.

She reached for the handle again.

"Pleeease, stooooop!" I whined.

"Confess" she urged. "Confess, and it will end!"

"You will burn me at the stake! I can't confess! Please stop torturing
me! I'm not a warlock! I don't have any unholy poweeer!"

"Then, suffer!" shouted Kirsten into my face. She gave me three harsh
turns, and I felt the spike impale me with reviving strength. I
shrieked in my agony.

"No, pleeeease, itï¿½s killing meee!" I cried hysterically.

"Confess, and I will stop it at once."

"Okay! I confess whatever you want!"

"No, my child. I don't want to put words into your mouth. You have to
say the Truth!"

I closed my eyes. The spike stretched my bowels with a never-easing
force. I couldn't bear another turn. Kirsten Smart's Chair had broken
me.

I opened my mouth to say something, when I heard the old cleric's
voice. His voice was somehow strange. "Wait, torturer."

I looked up and saw that the inquisitive young lady standing next to
him and whispering into his ear. The cleric looked confused.

"What?" asked Kirsten angrily.

The cleric looked up to the girl next to him then turned to my
torturer.

"I postpone the interrogation!"

"You can't do that! He will break any moment!"

"I will postpone it. And you will obey!!!" the cleric raised his
voice.

Kirsten took a deep breath then asked: "May I ask Your Excellence
why?"

"As you know, we have to make sure that the boy doesnï¿½t have any
li
fe-
threatening injuries. I think if you probe that spike more into him,
he will be so damaged that he might die."

Kirsten tried to cut in, but the cleric silenced her with his hand and
continued: "I order you to release him from the Chateau and bring him
- as soon as he will be able to travel - to my residence for further
interrogation."

I don't remember exactly what happened next. Perhaps I lost
consciousness.

I came around in the dungeon cell. I had been convalescing for a few
weeks when a guard came, and said that I would be taken to another
prison.
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