The Earl of Warwick himself led me down to the cold dungeons of his tower, proudly presenting his famous prisoner that was bought from her Burgundian captors for some thousand gold coins some days ago. I was sent from some people in Rome who doubted that Bishop Couchon, who was given the job of procuring her, would guarantee a fair tribunal. He had been given many such tasks in the past – there’s a letter from Duke John-the-Fearless of Burgundy (dated July 26, 1415) authorizing Couchon to bribe Church officials at the Council of Constance in order to influence the Council’s ruling concerning a murder, which the Duke had ordered. The English now needed someone who was willing to engineer a murder under the guise of an Inquisitorial trial, and Couchon again got the job. This has been expected from the officials in Rome since Jeanne was captured from the Burgundians some months ago, and so I was sent to France to arrive in time to do my job as inquisitor.
Yes, I was inquisitor in these times, believed in the justice, the wisdom of the Holy church and the mercy of a Lord. Now I know it better, but not few heretics were burnt due to my judgment. And so I was sent here to take over the inquisitional part of this process, while Couchon should stay the leader of the whole tribunal.
“Here she is – your witch!” The Earl laughed and pointed to the cell, well lightened by some torches. And there she was, lying on the ice-cold stone floor, shackled with heavy irons – and to my surprise completely naked.
“She had male clothes, and in my tower no woman is allowed to male clothes,” the Earl replied to my sharp question.
“Then give her something else!”
“Why wasting good dresses on such a slut? In this way the guards will not fall asleep during the night watch, I’m sure they all will keep a special eye on her!” He claps the shoulder of the soldier who opened the cell door.
“But you seem to be afraid of her,” I replied ironically pointing at the heavy chains.
“Afraid?” He laughed again. “No, but I think she looks still better in this way. And to make one thing clear: you are here to burn her, and it is alone my responsibility how she is imprisoned securely!”
“First I’m here to prove the accusation of heresy, everything will happen according to the laws!”
“Of course, of course,” he laughed again. “First the torture, then the stake. Priests also need some fun, right?”
I turn away from him with disgust, this so called nobleman was worse than some of the torturers and henchmen I met before, years of war had obviously washed away each sign of civilization from him, if there was any before.
When I entered the small cell, she opened her eyes, and looked at me; following my steps calmly and without the fear and terror I usually find in the eyes of accused heretics who met the inquisitor.
“Get up, slut. You have visitors!” The soldier, who followed me, kicked rudely in her belly. The kick made her cough, but still she didn’t show any other emotion than a slight disgust, when she carefully tried to get on her feet. Not an easy task in these chains, and she needed a couple of time until she stood on her feet as upright as her bounds allowed.
“Not on your feet, on your knees of course, where scum like you have to be!” Silently the girl endured the blow in her face and knelt down as ordered. A humble position, but her expression didn’t show any humbleness, only despise and a kind of trustful naivety, that nothing could really hurt or touch her.
Then she looked directly in my eyes.
“You are a priest?” I nodded. “Then you could tell these English ignorant, that it is not possible for me to pray with these bounds. They shall remove them, or do they fear my prayers like they feared my army?”
I nearly laughed out loudly, as I had a short look in the Earl’s angry face. This weak looking girl had courage and pride, probably more then it was good for her. But I knew that it would be a waste of time, to argue with the Earl about her bounds, and so I only shocked my head.
“If your prayers come from your heart, God doesn’t care if your hands are folded or not.”
“Prayers? A witch doesn’t need to pray!” Still furious the Earl kicked her face, hard enough to make her lips burst, and a ripple of blood run down, dropping chin her chin to the floor. “Maybe you want to call the devil to fuck you!” The second kick was heavy enough that she lost the balance and fell to the floor.
He breathed heavily and looked down to her with fisted hands. “Maybe you want to start now with the interrogation? I’d like to listen to the screams of this cunt now!”
“No, not now; I just arrived in Rouen, and I have to read the accusation first. And this will be a tribunal according to the law and nothing to satisfy any likes of you or your soldiers!”
“I don’t care how you do it. Just make her confess and burn her. She has to be a witch, or how else could such a little girl defeat our armies, if not with the help of the devil?”
This was an argument; looking at that tender body in chains lying on the ground, it really was barely to believe that she could have led an army to victory without the help of a mighty power.
“We will see… and give her something to drink and to eat, or she will not burn, but starve here in the cell.”
End of day one
posted July 12th, 2003 July 12th, 2003 July 12th, 2003 12th, 2003
1431, Jan 5th – Torture chamber – The second degree
She looked small and lost between the two soldiers, but her look was firm and full of a strange inner self-confidence that let her ignore the heavy chains and shackles that bound her and even her nudeness and the hands of the men that hold her even if she barely could move in her bonds. The big fireplace at the other end of the rather huge torture chamber lighted the room with its flickering flames and produced enough heat, that it was rather warm despite of the cold winter morning outside the tower.
“Jeanne of Lorraine, this is you last chance to confess and to revoke your heretic sayings before the torture will start! Did you have to say anything?”
Jeanne ignored my finger pointing to the henchman, who prepared his devilish tools near the wooden rack. She just pressed her lips even further and met my look defiantly.
I waited some moments silently, but finally I shrugged my shoulders.
“Put her on the rack!”
“Finally! I cannot wait to listen to the screams of this bitch.” The Earl gulped loudly and clapped his hands, but the soldiers didn’t need another motivation.
“Move you ass, slut, it’s playtime now.” The kick in her ass was as unnecessary as the heavy pulling on her neck chain. She didn’t resist, but the bonds made it impossible for her to follow and so she was more dragged than that she moved by herself. She only tweaked backwards for a moment, when her look fell on the table, with all those tongs, pliers, branding-irons and the other tools, but quickly she was pulled to the rack and lifted to the wooden bars.
The rack was solid workmanship, and well designed to do a maximum of pain to the unfortunate victim. The legs-end slightly higher than the head-other, to allow an easier access for the torturer to the private parts, enough space between the horizontal bars to place fire below, what has been done rather often as the burnt wood there proved.
“Don’t tighten it too fast!” The torturer stopped one of the soldiers who fixed the iron manacles, spiked at the inside, at her ankles.
“Why not? Let us crush her bones!” He laughed out loudly.
“Oh no, not yet… first let it loose enough that she can move inside, so the spikes can scratch the skin from her bones! Then they will be tightened!”
I nodded silently; yes, this torturer knew his work. Laughing and mocking they finally placed her narrow wrists in the metal cuffs.
“Hey, look at this cunt, do you really believe this is still untouched? They call her a virgin, but she looks like a devil’s-whore!”
“Just have a closer look, if you’re so curious; she is open wide enough now!”
“Out of here! At once!” I shouted angrily. ” This is a tribunal of the Holy Church, and not a brothel for soldiers! And you..” I pointed to the torturer who tried to hide his laughing behind his hands”…you cover her sex at once!”
I ignored the murmured ‘impotent priests’ from my left, and felt slightly embarrassed by her thankful look, when the thin dirty cloth was thrown on her belly and legs, but raised my brows, when the earl started to undress his chain shirt.
“Too hot already?” I asked ironically.
He laughed and drunk a goblet with on sip. “No.. not yet, but soon!” A loud gulp. “Because I will be Master Geoffrey’s assistant in this job!”
“What? You? You are …”
“Yes, I’m the Earl, but I don’t know any law that would forbid this.” He tore a piece of meat from the chicken and swallowed it. “And if, then I would change this law now!”
I recognized that I could not prevent him from his plan, and so I nodded. “As you want, but during the process, you then have to obey my orders.”
He made a mocking bow. “But of course, your Excellence… you order… and I make this bitch sing like a bird!”
I looked away to hide my despise and looked to the waiting torturer and to Jeanne who lied on the rack motionless, her lips moving like she would pray. A moment I wanted to go to her to give her the last chance, but I knew it would be a useless waste of time. She didn’t have seemed to realize, that the torture would begin now, or maybe she hoped for a miracle that would prevent her from this.
So I only nodded to him. “Begin your work!”
With a treating sound the wheel started to turn, stretching first her arms fully, and than dragging her inch for inch to the head-end of the rack, until her feet where finally stopped by the shackles, that already had left their first marks on the shimmering skin of her shins. But no cry, no scream, only a low sigh, nearly overturned even by the scratching feather of the writer on my right.
The Earl clapped Geoffrey’s shoulder. “Come on, not so slowly! This cunt wanted to be a big heroine, now she will become a LARGE one at least.” He kicked heavily at the rack, the vibrations run along the wood and the ropes, made the stretched body tremble, and made her groan lowly.
The wheel turned further, now her feet were fixed, and her whole body became stretched, but still no scream, even as her ribs were shown under the skin, her muscles and tendons protruded, when her back arched and left the wood below. Geoffrey let her tensioned like a bow for some moments, before he released the pressure only enough, that her buttocks lied on the wood again.
No she breathed heavily , sweat covered her body from head to legs. And she looked at me for a moment, her eyes wide opened, like she would have been surprised, that this could happen her, and with this knowledge, with the first experience of pain the beginning terror in her eyes as she recognizes that this would be nothing compared to the coming.
But before I could ask my question again, she quickly closed her eyes and turn her head to the ceiling. I didn’t need to say anything, Geoffrey knew his job, and the wheel immediately starts again to turn with its creaking sound. Again her back was lifted from the wood below, another desperate groans louder this time, but I couldn’t see her face, because the Earl was bent over her, awaiting impatiently her first scream. But this didn’t come, not during this, not during the next stretching phases, each a little bit stronger and longer than the previous one.
“Come on, bitch, sing for me!” He shook the rope to her arms with all of his weight, but got nothing more than a gasp from his effort. Her body was trembling now like in a feather, the first drop of blood run from her ankles on the wood and dropped to the floor below.
Geoffrey increased the pressure even more, stepping on the wheel, while the Earl kicked several times against the rack, but still no screams only her sighs and groans got louder and more intense, maybe not too different to the sounds of making love.
I stepped to the rack.
“My child, this is only the beginning. It will become worse and worse until you confess your sins finally. Do you really want that we continue with the torture!” She swallowed hardly, and wipes her face on her shoulders to wipe away the tears that run now through her press lids.
“I… I never did anything wrong…” She coughed hoarsely, this torture also makes is difficult to breath, so she gasped for air now during the break like after a long run. “The only mistake was that I allowed those English dogs to capture me… but I never did anything against of HIS will!” Again she coughed heavily.
“What do YOU know about HIS will?” Her stubbornness made me angry now. “Would HE let you suffer like this, if you’d be so near to HIM?”
“He let crucify his son… If it is his wish, go on torturing me, you will know if you did right when you face HIM in the end!”
She turned her head away, and I had no other choice. “Go on with the lashes!” I ordered while moving back to my seat.
The torturer fixed the wheel in a position that she was stretched enough to feel the pain in her muscles and joints even if she didn’t move at all. And then came the lashes… from both sides the whips hit her thighs, her belly, her breast again and again.
They started to beat her slowly, always a short pause between the strike from her right before the second followed from the left, but soon the Earl changed this ‘rhythm’, swung his leather whip in a higher frequency.
She twists and prances, pulled at the ropes in the instinctive tries to avoid the blows, but still no screams, only some sighs and groans, even if the Earl hit her breasts several times with all force. The two torturers started to sweat, too, started to breath heavily under the effort from the numerous lashes, that hit her skin with lashing sounds. Now she shrieked sometimes, not a loud screaming or yelling, no, only high sounds pressed between her clenched teeth, the eyes wide often most of the time, staring to the ceiling and wet from the tears that run over her face.
From time to time Geoffrey stopped his whipping, to stretch her to the limits, while the Earl’s lash hit her tightened muscles with brutal force.
Red welts covered her skin from neck to hip, some on her arms, some even in her face, some swollen, red and blue, and i stopped them, when the first wounds burst and the first blood begun to mix with the sweat on her skin. Now they concentrated on her legs, until her thighs where also covered with red stripes.
I looked to the writer. “About 60, I’m not sure if I counted each one:”
And still no screams, not to talk about any sign of confession from her. I sighed and looked to the hourglass that showed me that the torture went now nearly three hours.
posted July 28th, 2003
“The water torture!” I ordered – the last one before the rougher tortures would start, tortures that then would do more damage than the shredded skin on her wrist and ankles, damage that wouldn’t heal so easily. I doubted that the water torture would change her mind, but I wanted to give her this last chance.
“Oh yes, I need a drink, too!” Laughing and heavily breathing the Earl stepped to the table and drunk two goblets of the vine in a moment. “That is a fun, isn’t it, priest?” He laughed and refilled a third time. “It is difficult to make her sing, but this kind of difficult tasks are the best ones!”
I took his goblet away before he could empty it again. “There is no law, that forbids you to work as torturer.” I tried to stay calm, even if the anger raises with force. “But there is a law that forbids drunken torturers… at least in my tribunals! So drink water, or let Geoffrey do his work alone, he is well able to do it!”
“That he is, I always gave him enough material to exercise his skills. But it would be half of the fun for me… well, then no more vine, if you insist.” He gulped and moved back to the trembling body on the rack; to my disappointment, his greed was stronger than his thirst.
Meanwhile Geoffrey had prepared the water torture. A metal funnel, a wooden bar, and of course the water, more was not needed. He grabbed her hair and chin and pressed the cheeks with force, that she had choice but to open her mouth, where he intruded the funnel.
“And now drink, witch!” The Earl murmured still angry, and poured the first bag filled with water into the funnel. She coughed and pranced wildly, but her head was held firmly, some blood on her scalp showed, that the torturers grip even was stronger than some of her hair. And finally she had to swallow the water that run in her throat, litre by litre, until the bag was empty, and her belly was water filled bowl.
“Is this another French bastard here inside?” The Earl pressed against her stomach and a swell of water mixed with blood run out of her mouth, now open and distorted in agony. He grabbed for the long wooden bar.
“Then give this French bastard, what your mother should have got!” A brutal blow hit her tensioned belly, and now she would have screamed, if not the water shooting upwards into her mouth wouldn’t have suffocated the scream at once. In the try to bend her waist, her arms and legs pulled at their bonds with such a force that the whole rack vibrated, and she was still coughing the water she got into her lungs, as the second blow hit her stomach, leaving a second fast blackening trace there, and emptying the stomach finally. Quickly Geoffrey twisted her head to the side and pressed against her ribs to press the water out she had breathed, her heavy coughing showed that she nearly suffocated. But he knew how to handle this, and some moments later the coughing changed into a low sobbing.
“Please…please…no more…please!” Finally a reaction to the torture.
“Do you confess? Do you revoke your heretic sayings?”
Now she sobbed more loudly. “I… I have nothing to confess…I…”
But before she could go on, the funnel touched her mouth again and she closed it quickly, pressing her teeth as hard as possible. Now, that she knew what would follow, she struggled even harder to avoid the funnel, threw her head from side to side, her wet skin too slippery to get a strong grip for her torturers.
“Damned bitch, open your mouth or I…” while the Earl cursed and tried to get funnel in her mouth, Geoffrey fetched quietly another device. He knew how to handle this, and returned with head-crusher, a deadly device that could break the skull bones easily, if not used with care. But in this case it was only used to hold her head in place. She had to be stretched some inches, that her forehead found its position below the metal shackle, that was lowered quickly, and some moments later, her head was held fully immobile.
Still she pressed her lips, tried to breath between her clenched teeth, when the Earl closed her nose until her head turned red, but of course she had to open her mouth after a short time, gasping for air, and immediately the funnel found its way in her throat. Again she was filled with the water until her belly looked like a bowl, now when she was stretched more, the pain in her belly must be still worse than before. Quickly the Earl climbed the rack, pressed his foot and the end of the bar against her swollen belly, and slowly increased the pressure, while Geoffrey still filled more water into the funnel.
A splashing sound indicated that she lost control over her bladder, water shot down between her legs, out of her mouth and her nose, coughs and suffocated groans and the low metal sounds from her bonds when she pulled at them with all force in the desperate and instinctive try to bend her stretched legs to hide this shame and to protect her belly from the kick and blows from the Earl.
Three times more this procedure was repeated, leaving her fully exhausted and covered with marks from the bars, most on her belly, but some misguided also had hit her hip bones and ribcage. But she didn’t show another sign of giving up, seemed even to regret her further weakness enough, that she kept more silent than before, now most time with closed eyes, and I saw that her hands were folded to a prayer as did move her lips.
I sighed lowly, knowing that this wouldn’t help her at all now. Maybe I could recall this short phase of weakness know, when I continue… mercilessly maybe, but better she gave up quickly, than to be tortured for days.
“Once more!” I ordered, “but this time with the waist rope.”
Geoffrey nodded, and fixed a thick rope around her tender waist and tightened it, before she was filled again. The liquid pressed her swelling belly against the rope more and more, until her flesh nearly enclosed it. She coughed and gasped for air, the pressure in her belly was now nearly unbearable. Each of the two men grabbed now an end of the rope, and pulled it to the opposite direction with all force. The water was pressed out now more slowly, it run out of mouth, out of her nose, and again she coughed and gasped for air like a fish out of the water.
I advanced the rack and looked down to her tear covered face.
“Confess and revoke, and this will end at once!” She stared in my direction, the mouth wide open like her eyes, but the only answer was a loud groan, when the torturers increased the pressure from the rope, forcing another swell of water out of her mouth. This time it was reddish, already mixed with some blood, probably only from her bleeding lips and tongue, she had hurt in her useless fill against the funnel, but I stopped the torturers at once, didn’t want to risk a serious and than probably deadly injury of her stomach.
“If you don’t talk now, I have to order the next torture, and this will be worse, even if you don’t believe this now.”
But she just stared at me for a moment with reddish eyes, then she turned her head away and closed her eyes.
posted August 12th, 2003
“Lower the grate:” I ordered and pointed to the heavy iron gate with spikes that dangled on the ceiling above the rack. Geoffrey nodded and went to the winch at the wall, immediately turning the winch, and slowly the spike covered grate lowered accompanied by the creaking sound of the rusty chains that hold it in the air.
With wide opened eyes, Jeanne followed the spikes advancing her sweat bathed skin inch for inch, but she didn’t move or say anything, only her chest raised and lowered faster from her breathing.
The earl grabbed the grate when was at the height of his chest, stopped its twisting and hold it in place while it was lowered until the spikes pressed against her soft skin causing a low groan, while she moved her head to avoid the touches of the spikes at her face.
She was stretched enough, she couldn’t move much more than her head, and of course the Earl took care, that some spikes were well placed at her breasts, and now when the heavy grate pressed with all of its weight against her, each move, even each breathe caused immense pain the tortured girl.
He pressed it even more with its weight moving it a bit, and made the spikes scratch on her skin, followed by highs shrieks and groans pressed between clenched teeth, as the spikes hurt her skin enough, that the first ripples of blood became visible.
Meanwhile Geoffrey has taken a finger thick, about one yard long piece of pliable wood and pointed asking to her soles. I only nodded; maybe this would be enough for her finally. I rarely had to do more in previous tribunals, and she was only a girl at last!
Fully concentrated on the pain from the spikes, the first blow hit her fully surprisingly, and indeed was answered by short yelling scream, while her body arched in the limits of the bonds, only to be pressed against the grate even harder, the spikes left some bad looking wounds on her skin when she tried to twist away below it. The second blow was done with full strength to the same sole, and already the wood shimmered red from the blood from the busted sole-skin. But no more scream this time, even if her body bent even more, I saw how the fingernails cut the skin in her palms so heavily she clenched her fists and her head bounces back to the wood below, her toes curled in agony.
And then blow after blow followed, some on the left, some on the right sole. Her muscles and tendons seem to burst through the shimmering skin while she struggled and twisted, the front side of her ankles meanwhile nearly rubbed skinless to the blood covered bones, and the back didn’t look better as I knew without needing to see it. The Earl additionally turned the wheel again, stretching her to the limits and releasing the tension, each move caused new slices from the spikes on her skin.
The air was filled from the sound of the wood rushing through the air and hitting her bare, bleeding soles, her groans and suppressed screams, the dropping of the blood that runs from her soles, ankles and wrists and dropped to the reddening stone floor below; the heavy breathing of Geoffrey, whose skin shimmered in sweat now, too; and of course from the laughter of the Earl who noticed with obvious satisfaction and greed, like the thin sweat-wet towel that covered her private parts, shifted more and more until it finally glided to the ground below, something he fastened with the moving of the grate.
And finally, after an endless seeming time, she lost all of her strength at once and fainted with a last groan of relief. And even if it was incredible looking at this lifeless tender body covered with welts and wounds… she hadn’t screamed anymore, sometimes she shouted out prayers with hoarse voice, nearly not untreatable between the groans and sobbing, but she really did not allow herself another single scream.
Without noticing it I had moved to the rack and watched now her feet: The soles a bloody mess like her ankles, her breathing was weak, but rather regular as was her heartbeat. I knew it, and with a look I noticed that the Earl and Geoffrey knew it too… there was no need for a larger break, the torture would go on soon.
“A break for an hour or two to eat something?” I looked surprised to the Earl, had expected that he would like to go on at once. But probably he was too thirsty know, and liked to drink some vine first.
“Okay, let’s make a rest for two hours.” I looked to the torturer. “Leave her on the rack like she is, only remove the grate, then you can make a rest as well.” I still hoped, that she would give up soon. Maybe, when she awakes from her unconsciousness and finds herself on this rack, with the time to look at all those wounds. Maybe then she understood finally that this was not an only nightmare, but cruel reality that she could only escape from, when she would confess and revoke her heretic sayings. As earlier she learnt this lesson as better for her.
Jean Pierre de Valmont, another handwriting, doesn’t write the following document and it seems to be part of another book where it was torn off and placed at this point in the Jeanne d’Arc protocols. And it fits very well here, it is written by an unknown priest who took the confession of Geoffrey the torturer in the evening of this day.
It is rather likely from comparisons that it had been written by Bishop Cauchon himself, the last chapter seems to confirm this, but there is no final proof for it yet.
I was surprised to meet him here in the chapel, nervously looking at me.
“Do you have time for me, Father? I have to confess something.” I sighed… I had other things to do than to care about a common peoples confession, and already wanted to send him away, as I recognized him: it was Geoffrey, the henchman who just started Jeanne’s torture today, and of course now I was interested more in his stories.
“Of course, God always has time, even for such rare guests like you are.” He grinned only weakly by my blame.
“It is… delicate… it stays between us?”
“Only God will listen to you, I ‘m only HIS ear in this case. Tell me what happened.”
“You know that we started to torture her?”
“Jeanne? The Heretic? Of course, everyone knows this.” I was confused, Geoffrey was torturer, how could this be a problem for him? “You don’t need any absolution for this … she is a heretic and you are doing your work in the name of the Holy church. Nothing you have to worry about you or your soul.”
“No, it is not the torture. This is rather normal, besides the fact, that the Earl himself assists me in this case… he is a bit rude, you know how he hates this girl!”
“Oh yes, this also is very well known.” I laughed. He didn’t like it very much that his army was beaten so many times by the army led by a little peasant girl. “Is he the problem?”
“Hm well… part of it, it was today noon, when we made a break. As usually I looked for the wounds of the victim to wash it out and so… only a bad torturer let his victims die under the torturer, and I’m a not a bad one!”
I nodded and pointed him to go on. It was late already, and my bed was calling out for me.
“Well, when I washed her wounds, she was barely consciousness, just moved and groaned lowly when the alcohol trenched cloth touched her wounds, as suddenly the Earl came back. ‘Sir?’ I asked, I had expected him to eat something. ‘Make a rest Geoffrey,’ He licked his lips and looked to her mutilated body on the rack. ‘I will care about her.’ ‘But…’ I started, but with the look in his eyes I understood, and I turned even before he could open his mouth to repeat his order. But I didn’t leave the room, I couldn’t do else but watching him from a the back of a column.”
“And then? He raped her?” I yawned; this was not a sensation, maybe that it didn’t happen earlier, but…
“Oh yes… and how he enjoyed it. He was so excited that he came the first time before he even penetrated her, he touched her cunt and WHOW… just poured all his semen over her body. And now… now she screamed, the first time she really screamed. All the time during the torture she was so quiet, so silent. Oh she DID feel the torture, the pain… this told me her eyes, her wincing body, her tears… but no screams; it was so…so unnatural all the morning. But the semen of the Earl on her belly seems to hurt more than even the hardest blow with the whip. And when he touched her between her legs, she raved like she never did before. She screamed so loudly that he uses the pear…you know the pear it is usually used for…”
“Yes I know it.”
“… Well he used the pear to gag her… very efficient gag, but her screams came from deep inside her, were even to hear when she was gagged, she bite her mouth bloody on this pear, while he raped her then very hard and very long. I could understand how he talked to her when he rammed his dick into her the first time: ‘I always wanted it like this… could have had you in your cell or in my bedroom a dozen times before… but now … stretched on the rack, bleeding, sobbing, sweating and screaming… yes, now it is just perfect, to fuck the brain out of you damned French bitch, I will show you were your place is in this world!’ And with each word he pushed his cock in her, no matter how she winced, screamed into her pear I’m sure he came at least three times during the following hour.”
He stopped and I looked at him even more confused. “And? What has this to do with you? Maybe he should come to me, but I doubt he will do so…” I sighed, it was sad, but in those times of war the rape of a woman, if prisoner, townspeople or peasant was a rather common thing, such happens too often to be important anymore.
“Well, when he had left her, I went to her, saw her lying in blood, sweat and tears, so weak and so desperate and I couldn’t do anything else but to abuse her, too.”
I sighed. “And? Probably this was not your first rape, I guess… had you ever confessed one before?”
“No, no. Not the first, but in this case… you know what they tell about her?”
“Oh, yes I understand… she is a witch and you fear that she has cursed your? You need a…”
“Oh no, father, ” He laughed. “I don’t fear the forces of witches at all… she is not my first heretic, and I have some blessed amulets that protect me very well from devilish powers.”
“Not the devil, what…?”
“It is more… what is, when she is right, when she is blessed by God, and I have raped her, I’m torturing her? Will I be condemned forever like the Roman soldiers who crucified our Christ?” I looked at him, speechless for a moment. The Earl really has right… this girl HAS to burn. If even such a rude man like this torturer feels fear in his heart to fight her, how could his soldiers regain new braveness before she was burnt and of course before she has publicly confessed that she was a devil-whore and not a messenger send by God himself? If true or not, this is what the Earl and his army needed, and it would happen! I have to talk tomorrow with de Valmont. He shall forget all the tribunals’ rules he had learnt before. He only had to make her confess, no matter how!
“Hmm?” I had forgotten him for a moment. “Oh yes! My dear Geoffrey, you don’t have to make sorrows about this. Maybe she is a slave of Lucifer; maybe only a little girl a little bit insane… it is your task to help us to decide this. But certainly she has nothing to do with God, this you can be sure. Go to sleep and do your job tomorrow as good as you can do, and God will bless you in the end!”
posted September 21st, 2003
The Afternoon… the torture continued.
With one look on Jeanne I saw what had happened during the break. Blood dropped from her sex to the ground, her thighs black and blue spots, even her belly still covered with dried semen. She was gagged with a pear, blood all around the mouth, dried and fresh one. And as soon she saw me, she pulled on her bounds like she had become insane, screamed something in the gag, winced, twisted, that she nearly broke her bones by herself.
Geoffrey avoided my angry look, looking only to the tools that didn’t need another order at all, but before I could say something my look felt to the grinning Earl who scratched his balls below the pants, advanced and lied the arm on my shoulder.
“Obviously the devil has visited his witch during the break… so much to the ‚Virgin from Lorraine‘!” Disgusted I wiped his hands from my shoulder, and looked at the poor girl who raged now even more as she saw the Earl.
“Yes the devil… certainly it was the devil itself.” I sighed, what else could I do? Call the Earl a liar in his own castle? And that this would happen was not surprising at all, only that it didn’t happen earlier in her cell.
But her strong reaction surprised me. She endured all the torture this morning silently; I nearly thought that she had devilish support – or such from heaven? – that helped her against the torture, but now she really was nothing else than a little girl, shocked, furious, filled with terror and pain. The abuse was bad… but maybe it could become something good for her, now a hard torture would break her quickly, and avoid more useless pain.
So I just clutched my hands, gave her a short severe look before I went back to my seat.
“Back to work… The tongs and the irons!” I took a sip of vine to clear my somewhat hoarse voice, and looked away when her terrified look hit me, so much accusal in it. Did I right? “And remove this pear from her mouth.” Another short look … was the sex her weakness? “Maybe we will use it later on the RIGHT place.” Yes, her body stiffened like under shock, she knew what I wanted to say by this, and this nearly set her in panic. I would use it later that day, if necessary. This would break her certainly and spare more days of torture.
The afternoon was as normal as the morning was strange. Geoffrey and his ‘assistant’ did their job, stretched her again and again, always hard at the limits before the joints would break… the last was nothing for the second degree, and Geoffrey was a good torturer indeed, he knew this and knew the limits of his victims.
Then the tongue and pliers… first used cold to squeeze her flesh at the tensioned arm, the legs. At her belly and last not least at her breasts and nipples, until her body was covered by countless dangerous looking black and blue spots.
And she screamed finally… this I meant by ‘normal’… as any torture victim I saw before, she screamed until she had lost her voice, loud and wild, sometimes furious, sometimes desperate. Not this nearly uncanny silence like in the morning, no, maybe even more than the usual screaming and yelling, like she had to add the screams from the morning now, too.
posted October 7th, 2003
And then the pliers were heathen in the coals. To have a shorter way, the Earl kicked the brazier below the rack, exactly beyond her shimmering buttocks. It needed some time, but then the heat was nearly unbearable for her. She danced on the rack, even if she was stretched that it should be nearly impossible that she could twist her body in such way, sweat and urine dropped down in the glowing coals below where it vaporized with sizzling sounds, while Geoffrey squeezed her toes with large pliers until they turned black and blue und the blood shot from the edges of her splittered toenails.
And this was not enough of the heat! The table was placed at her feet and the torturer filled to smaller plates with coals and places them exactly below her feet that still had bleeding open wounds from the bastinado this morning.
Now her screams got even worse, often only stopped by heavy coughing, when she got blood from bitten lips and tongue into the lungs. It was a ‘lazy’ torture for the henchman and the Earl during this hour. They let the coals do their cruel work and waited, only turning the rack’s wheel from time to time, or to draw bloody lines with a whip across her chest, belly and thighs each time she seemed to be fainted to bring her back immediately with this new pain.
I didn’t allow branding irons yet… not in the second-degree torture; this would be something for another day, that I could spare her as I still hoped with the help of the pear.
But even if she screamed now like a little child, there was no confession, no sign of her to give up finally. Her eyes were tear stained and reddish from the burst little veins, but her look always showed the same defiance and stubbornness like before, now even mixed with hate, a lot of hate when she gazed towards the Duke… a hate that not even gave her enough strength to resist the torture, that even could end her screams sometimes and replace her prayers with curses towards her torturers.
Often I asked her to confess, to revoke her heresy, but best I got was silent despair, more often she cursed and shouted… I am used this from so many tribunals before, so it was really ‘normal’ this afternoon. Only that in this so weak looking girl was enough strength to resist a torture that had broken strong men before, this was surprising.
I looked at her again, the coals at her feet and below her ass dimmed only lowly, they had lost their painful heat, time for a change. Her body bathed in sweat was trembling all over, her screams meanwhile hoarse and often interrupted by heavy coughing, where she spitted some blood.
“Fix the screws,” I sighed finally… time to find the end finally. The screws were the last thing before I would use the pear. Not to break her bones yet, but this she couldn’t know; the pain would become worse even without breaking bones.
Geoffrey and the Earl slowly twisted the screws; each at one at her already badly damaged ankles. Step for step, very slowly, the spikes penetrated shredded skin and flesh, presses against damaged nerves, and finally pressed hard against the pure bones from the top, while the spikes on the back of her feet had more soft flesh and a flexible but very sensible achileon-tendon to do an even more bloody and painful work. Soon her screams ended in a low endless moaning, only penetrated by a howling scream, when Geoffray beat a with heavy tongs on the shackles, causing a shocking pain that runs directly from the bones of the ankles to the brain.
My look fell again to the pear. “Before we use the pear, put on the leg screws!” Her body again stiffened in wild panic … not because of the legs-crews, even if those were presented her by the Earl with devilish smile. No, she raised her head with some effort and stared wildly at the pear, the same pear she had in her mouth during her abuse.
“No…no… please, anything but not this!”
“It is your choice alone… confess and you can avoid it… resist even the leg screws and I’m forced to use this pear!” Jeanne even shrieked by the spelling of the word, and even more all her muscles cramped when laid the cold metal pear on her chest between her breasts. She tried to shake it away from her trembling skin like a poisonous spider, but meanwhile she was even too weak for this move; her spasming muscles didn’t obey her anymore. And so I let the pear there, where she could feel it, see it when she raised her head… maybe this would be enough motivation additionally to the leg screws to make her confess finally.
Those heavy irons had been tightened now, squeezing her lower legs from both sides with the spikes inside, pressing against her shin-bone barely protected from a thin layer of skin, that turned black and blew after some few turns of the screws; the usually much softer back that was now a hard muscle spasming and tightened after many hours stretched on the rack, needed only a little bit more tightness, until it changed its colour as well. Again she screamed like a wounded animal, when Geoffrey hit the firmly tightened screws with pliers.
I stood near her head and wiped wet hair from her eyes.
“Confess finally, Jeanne, or I don’t have another choice!” I said lowly pointing to the pear on the chest. And indeed, her desperate look now fell to the tool between her breasts for a moment and back to me, she opened her mouth and tears ran in streams from her eyes.
“What… what do you want to hear from me?” Barely audible, but I nodded contently, finally this matter came to an end.
“Maybe you whore could start with the details, how much you enjoyed your fuck with the devil?” The Earls mocking comment wiped away the lost expression in her face instantly. Angrily I looked at him, just to see, that this was exactly his intention… he didn’t want her to confess now, no, he wanted to torture her as long as possible, as I recognized now with a shudder. And in this case he had won for the moment.
“You damned English bastard, look in the mirror if you look for the devil!” New rage gave her new strength, and while he still laughed, proud about his ‘success’, he grabbed the pear.
“And this is the right tool to punish whores who fucked the devil? Right?”
I knew it was useless for today, but I also knew that he would use it, if I’d ordered it or not. I nodded to Geoffrey who looked asking to me – of course he also knew that this was useless for today.
“Go on”, I sighed; I didn’t see a way to hold the Earl back now. Geoffrey fetched a wooden plank covered with spikes, and while the Earl lifted her with his hands on her tender waist, the spiked plank was placed exactly below the rather badly burnt buttocks. A loud yelling scream filled the torture chamber, when the Earl released her and the spikes hit the burnt skin, a scream that even got worse and louder, when he pressed with all of his weight against her hip. Now her vagina was even more exposed than before and the Earl took the pear out of Geoffrey‘s hand.
“This is my fuck.” He grinned, and I’m sure, that he indeed imagined abusing her another time, when he slowly intruded the pear into her tight vagina that still was spoiled with some crusted blood from her former abuse.
I turned away, knowing to well, that this torture would not make her talk now anymore, even if her screams shrilled louder than ever before in my meanwhile hurting ears. Slowly the Earl turned the screw, and the pear opened inside of her, hard metal pressed her most sensible flesh and nerves with merciless power, until her thin belly was deformed enough to see the form of the iron below the flesh. She now only rattled in terror, her eyes twisted that only the eye white was to see, blood run out of her nose, ears and mouth. He punched with pliers against her belly, against the ending of the pear that jut out her vagina, causing a thin stream of light red blood dropping down to the floor below and another inhuman wailing left her open mouth that make me shudder.
“Is this as big as the devil’s cock now?” Another blow on her belly followed, the whole rack vibrated from force she tried to bend her body. Her screams ended in a suffocated coughing, bubbling foam run out of her mouth.
“Enough, or do you want to kill right now.”
“Kill a whore with a good fuck? Why not!” He laughed out loudly and gave her another blow to the belly. Her screaming now nothing like a suffocated gurgling and coughing.
“But you are right:” Another blow to the screw made had prance wildly, her eyes nearly fell out of sockets, but she had no more breathe even for a low scream. “Tomorrow I would regret that the fun has ended already.”
With a last furious move, he twisted the wide open pear inside her, causing only a last spasming trembling that runs from her hip through all of her muscles downwards to her feet, and upwards to belly chest and arms, than her body fell limb, and only the heavily beating heart shown by the veins in her neck showed that she was still alive.
He laughs and pulled the pear out of her, covered with a foamy mass of blood and slime.
He presented it to Geoffrey, who watched the torture silently, but obviously highly amused. “You have another one, yes? This will be my trophy!” He licked on the slime and I nearly vomited, even if I’m used a lot, this bastard really was sick!
“Tomorrow here again, Inquisitor?”
“Tomorrow?” I looked at this broken body on the rack. “If you want to kill her, yes, but without me. If you want the prosecution of the tribunal she will need some days rest before we can go on with the third degree!”
He nodded. “You are the expert… but she MUST burn as a witch, you know.”
“If she is one, she will! And don’t forget that I said some days ‘rest’, so take care that no ‘devil’ will visit her in her cell!”
He looked angrily, but nodded reluctantly. “Okay, no devil; even I think that a good fuck is always good for the health, especially for a French whore.”
“It is easy: you want me to convict her as a heretic, and I want you to protect her cell from the devil. I’m sure each of us will do a good job, right?”
“Right.” He nodded and smiled suddenly. “This bitch will be a beautiful torch on the stake!”
She had been imprisoned in the deepest dungeons of the castle. Here the prisons cells were not much more than holes in the rock below the castle itself, the floor covered with muddy water that dropped from the walls and ceilings. It was cold here, and the stench was overwhelming when the prison guard opened the door into the lowest level, only illuminated by some flickering torches.
He didn’t need to tell me the way, I could here her low prayers from the entrance, and I send him away with a gesture. Some rats moved out of my way, not really fearfully – the rats in those cells didn’t need to fear very much from human beings. Jeanne knelt in the foot-deep, certainly iced cold water, and didn’t stop her prayers, even if the shudder running through her body told me, that she had noticed my advance.
Thoughtfully I watched her for some minutes. The heavy shackles and chains nearly looked ridiculous on this skinny body, somewhat emaciated from the imprisonment and her trembling skin showed the bruises and wounds from the past tortures.
“Jeanne!” I cleared my throat and opened the heavy iron door that moved with creaking sounds. She finished her prayer without taking more notice than becoming louder before she finally looked at me, firmly, somewhat despiteful, but her eyes couldn’t hide the fear completely and another shudder run over her body, strong enough to make the chains clatter.
“Oh, the man of the Lord is visiting me, what a honour,” she said ironically, with teeth chattering from the cold. “If you want to continue with your justice, I’m prepared.” With some effort she stood up, instinctively trying to hide her nudeness with the arms.
“This is no game, Jeanne. You think, it cannot be worse, but you are very wrong. From the second degree of the torture your body will not recover so easily.” I felt anger arise from her accusement, from the stubbornness of this stupid little girl. “You better should confess if you don’t want to experience the pain of breaking bones!”
She swallowed hardly. “It is in the hands of our God, do what you want. You can break my body, but you never will make me betray my saint.”
I pressed my lips; in many cases it was more effective than the torture itself to imprison someone in prisons like this for some days, let them alone with the memory of the past tortures and full of nightmares and fear from the ones that will come in the future. But here a longer rest didn’t make a sense. And even better: the Earl was on a hunt at this day. Of course he wouldn’t be very amused, if he would have missed the ‚pleasure‘ of torturing his captive by himself, but it was my decision only, when the tribunal shall be continued…
“We will see…” I called for the prison guard. “Tell Geoffrey to prepare everything for the second degree…. and bring her to the torture chamber in one hour!”
Satisfied I noticed the raising fear in her face. “You should better think about your answer when I ask you the next time to confess your heresy.”
Sometimes it was difficult to fight the devil even for me, I would have to spent this hour with prayers to fight him and ask for God’s mercy, when I did wrong; a thought that the again came in my mind when I left the prison behind me, and with it the loud prayers from Jeanne.
posted December 20th, 2003
“Here she is, your Reverend. Everything is prepared to start at your command.” Geoffrey pointed to the naked girl, who appeared small and lost sitting in the huge chair studded with countless small spikes. The chair was a source of constant pain, even without any additional torture, and it got worse with each passing minute as she squirmed to escape the vicious spikes. Her skin glistened with sweat and her muscles trembled with strain as she struggled vainly to escape the agony of the spikes by lifting her nude body away from the needle-like points. But her constant writhing simply added to her torment as it continually brought new flesh into play against the points.
Her head was sunk on her breast. Her breathing quickened as I advanced but she didn’t show any other reaction to my presence. I smelled the cheap wine on Geoffrey’s breath as I neared them. “Are you drunk?”
He shook his head under my stern look. “No, your Reverend – only some wine at breakfast. No problem, the Duke is out today, and so I didn’t expect…”
“This is not his trial… or perhaps it is you need an assistant? Then choose one.” I pointed to the exiting soldiers, who looked back to us with some hope in their eyes.
“No, not for this!” Geoffrey shook his head, and seemed not to be too unhappy that the Duke would not disturb his professional work this day. “I can do everything required here without a helping hand!” I had noticed that Jeanne’s body stiffen at the mention of the Duke’s name, as well as the look of relief when she heard he would be absent.
“Jeanne d’Arc, I ask you once again to finally confess. This…”
“Look at your Reverend, when he speaks to you, scum!” Geoffrey grabbed her hair and pulled her head forcibly in my direction. I ignored her low groans.
“Your torture will be more severe than ever today if you insist on remaining stubborn. You will know nothing but pain, pain and more pain!”
“God knows that I never did anything wrong. And finally he will be your judge, too,” Although filled with pain her voice was surprisingly strong and filled with determination.
I sighed as she obviously thought this day would be easier for her because the Duke was absent. Soon she would learn how wrong she was! “As you wish. Geoffrey, you may begin.” I returned to my seat and nodded to the scribe, who finally had arrived and taken his seat. He had already had started to write something in his papers. I hadn’t yet reached my seat when I heard her groans grow louder, then turn to barely suppressed screams that ended in a loud shriek when Geoffrey’s boot hit the wooden board that pressed against her shins. “How do you like this, bitch?” He pressed his weight against her trembling thighs, pushing her thighs and buttocks hard against the spikes, and kicked the board again. The whole chair vibrated and her screams became louder and more desperate as the badly healed wounds on her left lower leg reopened, and the first ripple of blood dropped to the floor.
Her eyes opened in terror at the sight of the spiked iron grate he began to lower to the top of her thighs. “Oh no, not that. Please no…no…”
“You only have to confess, and it ends at once!” But she merely pressed her lips tightly together and looked away, watching him through half closed lids as he fastened heavy weights at the grate’s sides. Now the spikes pressed hard against the muscles of her thighs, and pushed the back of her thighs deeper into the spikes set in the seat. She tightened her leg muscles, but two or three heavy kicks to the board and she lost the strength in her limbs and collapsed from the pain in her shins. The spikes now pierced deeper into her flesh and thin streams of bright red blood ran from her wounds down her thighs. She screamed until the lack of air forced her to gasp for breath. “Confess Jeanne. Think of what is to come. It will only get worse and worse from here. It is only a matter of time before you break. Why suffer needlessly? In the end it will make no difference how long you endured the torture. Your confession will be final.”
posted January 12th, 2004
“Whatever you do to me, I will never betray God and my Saint!” she insisted between clenched teeth with a hoarse but firm voice. Even as she spoke Geoffrey was placing a bowl with glowing coals below her feet. Although my robe was thick I could feel the heat when I stood at her side. Jeanne’s calves nearly went into spasm as she tried to keep her soles as far away from the coals as possible, but it was a useless effort. Her strength ebbed and soon the sizzling of her flesh could be heard until the sound of her screams drowned it out. Then she managed to lift her feet free of the flames for another minute before the scene was repeated. Soon the smell of burned skin filled the room.
“You have no idea of WHAT we will do to you if you don’t confess now!” I growled and nodded to Geoffrey who held a branding iron in his left hand. “Let her feel this…with her own hands.” I could see her fighting the urge to beg for mercy, a mercy she knew would not be granted. She followed Geoffrey’s advance with wide-open eyes, gazing at the tip of the iron that glowed nearly white. Geoffrey grabbed the fingers of her right hand and bent them back as far as possible. He held the tip close enough to her palm to redden her skin and produce the first white blisters. “Oh God,” she whispered, paralysed in fear of the glowing iron, but she gave no sign she was ready to confess. Geoffrey looked at me and I simply nodded. He pressed the iron against her palm and her hand vanished in a cloud of smoke.
For a short moment she was paralysed by the pain, then her body reacted. She stiffened and then bucked, her toes pressed to the coals below. Her hips raised off the seat with enough force to move the heavy weights that held the grate on her thighs and that now bounced with a dull bang against the chair’s sides. Her mouth opened and closed once like a fish out of water before a shrill howling scream was heard and her head banged backwards against the chair, leaving blood-crusted hair tangled in the spikes. She was still screaming when Geoffrey removed the tip and pushed the iron back into the coals to heat it again. Her muscles relaxed and she fell back in the chair as though she had fainted, but her eyes and mouth were still open, and with a kind of disbelieve she stared at the finger-wide wound that covered the width of her palm.
“This is what you will feel on your whole body when you are burned alive at the stake!” Her eyes jumped wildly between her palm and me and she gulped and coughed as she tried get enough air for a reply.
“You…you will burn me, no matter whether I confess or not,” she managed to finally groan.
“Yes, you are right. It will probably not make a difference to the Duke.” I knew that nothing could save her from being executed in the end, and she knew it as well. “But if you confess, Geoffrey will kill you before he lights the stake so you will at least die without feeling this pain again.”
She shook her head wildly. “My…my God will not allow this…he…!” Her argument ended in another wild scream when Geoffrey touched the hot iron to her upper-arm.
“He doesn’t help you now in any way; why do you think, he will help you at the stake?” I finished her sentence for her when her scream had ended because of the lack of air. Her lips and teeth were chattering now as though she had a fever, and before she could answer Geoffrey pressed the iron to her thigh. He left it there until the vapor dissipated enough to show the ugly wound the hot steel had left. Her head sunk to her chest, blood dripping to her chest and belly from where she had bitten her tongue in the useless effort to suppress another heartrending scream. “End this now Jeanne and confess!”
Her mouth opened, but nothing more than an unintelligible gurgling left her lips together with mixture of blood and foamy spittle. She shuddered and retched, but shook her head ‘no’ wildly, until Geoffrey answered by pressing the tip to her belly and holding it there, until it was too cold to produce smoke anymore. “Next will be here, bitch,” and he touched the now cold tip to her breast and played with her nipple. She looked at me with desperation, tears running in streams from her eyes, and for a moment I felt hope that she had finally had enough. But then she bent her head back, closed her eyes and started to pray in a voice hoarse from screaming. I turned away as Geoffrey advanced on her again with a well-heated iron. The following scream couldn’t have been recognized as human and became even shriller when Geoffrey pressed the still hot iron to her other breast. Then suddenly there was silence.
“She has fainted, your Reverend.” Geoffrey felt the pulse at her neck. “Shall I go on with the irons? They will bring her back quickly.” With the now colder tip he touched her pubic hair. “Especially if I heat the bitch up here next!” I shuddered and looked at the naked body that hung limp in the huge chair. Small clouds lifted from her feet that rested in the still hot coals, but even this didn’t wake her now.
“No, Geoffrey, stop this now and give her a short rest. If she doesn’t wake up soon use water and then continue with thumbscrews.”
“Why?” He seemed more than a little disappointed, “She reacts rather well to the hot irons. I bet with some more touches on her nipples, cunt and ass and she will confess to whatever you want!”
I swallowed hard. As the inquisitor I certainly couldn’t tell him I felt pity at this moment, and that I was terrified by the thought of burning the private parts of this poor girl with hot irons. “I doubt that the Duke would be very happy if you damage her there!”
Certainly this was no lie, and Geoffrey nodded at me grinning, “Oh yes, you are wise man, your Reverend. He would kill me in rage – this he certainly would want to do by himself when he becomes bored with his French whore!”
posted March 8th, 2004
Jeanne didn’t show a reaction when Geoffrey fixed her legs slightly spread in a wooden pillory. Her shins and calves were bruised, red and blue from the spikes and the board that had pressed her lower legs against the chair during this first hour of the torture.
“What’s up, bitch? Still sleeping? Wake up, you can rest later in hell in the bed of your devilish lover!” The torturer raised her eyelid, the white below showed that she still was fainted, but then he lifted her some inches with his fingers in her sex, and she woke up with a howling scream that echoed from the walls of the room.
“He-he, better this way than to waste good water for a dirty witch!” Before I opened my mouth to a protest he had let her go again and her buttocks fell down on the spikes with a clutching sound.
Another time she shrieked, before she bite her lips. “You…you…damned…”A heavy coughing interrupted her curse and some spittle mixed with blood dropped down on her chest, that raised and sunk with hectic breathes. With all force she tried to calm down, but her teeth clenched and she trembled all over her body, when she looked at me with tear stained eyes, ignoring the additional discomfort when Geoffrey moved the brazier with his foot below her legs.
“Why don’t you just kill me, you slave of those English bastards? You waste your time, no matter what you are doing, I will not betray God and my Saint!”
For some moments I looked at her silently, then I nodded towards Geoffrey who presented thumbscrews with some impatience in his grinning face.
“Go on!” I ordered with hoarse voice, knowing too well, what those spiked irons would do to the bones of her fingers. Did this so helpless looking girl really swung wildly a sword in battles? I rarely could imagine this, but certainly she would never be able to hold a sword again after this torture, when her fingers would be smashed and broken. But she didn’t fight now, let Geoffrey place the metal bars at her fingers without useless struggling, only her eyes showed the horror the girl felt now.
I had closed my eyes and prayed some prayers, but the creaking sound of the slowly closing screws filled the otherwise silent room. I looked up with her first sound, a kind of high squeaking, a scream deep in her throat that come through clenched teeth. The visible parts of her fingers were already black and blue, first drops of blood were pressed from below her fingernails.
Posted May 4th, 2004
She gasped for air, her pale blue eyes darting frantically about the torture chamber as though she might find someone or something that would end her agony. Then the inevitable sound of breaking bones was heard, like a dry branch cracking under foot in the forest. Of course, I’ve heard this often enough in other trials and I didn’t think it could affect me any longer, but in this case I must admit I sighed in relief when she finally lost control and her earsplitting screams covered the cracking and crunching of the splintering finger bones. Geoffrey too seemed relieved to finally hear this normal reaction to the torture. He stopped and wiped some sweat from his forehead, then grabbed metal pliers and smashed it against the iron of the thumbscrews, getting another inhuman scream from his victim when a fine shower of blood sprayed from her hand.
“Confess, bitch!” Another blow, and this time her screams ended in coughing and gurgling, but not before she had beat her legs against the wooden stocks and thrown her head backwards into the chair with such force I was afraid she would fracture her skull.
“We need to fix her head.” Geoffrey also noticed this danger and quickly fetched a head-masher and fixed the sobbing and moaning girl’s head in it.
“Do you confess now?” With ominous creaking sounds he tightened it until her chin was pressed against the iron base of the cruel device with such force that I could hear her teeth cracking before he released it enough to allow her to answer. But she only opened her mouth for prayer which was rudely interrupted when Geoffrey tightened the masher again and ended her supplications in an undecipherable moan. One more turn and this time streams of blood ran from her nose and her eyes rolled back so only the whites were still visible.
“That’s enough, Geoffrey, don’t kill her!”
“I know, your Reverend,” he answered, sounding somewhat offended. When he released the masher she opened her mouth and spit out shards of broken teeth. Dark red blood ran from the corners of her mouth.
“Water…please…” she begged. It was nearly inaudible, but I nodded, and Geoffrey gave her some of the dirty water from a nearby barrel. She drank greedily but her stomach revolted with the first drops and it came back out of her half opened mouth and some ran into her lungs when she breathed, initiating another fit of heavy coughing.
“End this now Jeanne; end it or it will become worse!” Her eyes stared off into space and she didn’t react to my words until Geoffrey whipped a finger-thick stick on her burned soles, again and again until the chair and the stocks vibrated from her wild struggles. It didn’t seem possible but her screams were now even louder and more desperate than before.
“Confess, bitch!” More blows shredded the burned skin and blood dripped from her soles. He then moved to her hand and smashed the rod against the thumbscrew, opening the fresh wounds in her fingers.
“Stop…oh God…PLEASE STOP!” She shrieked in agony, when more blows were delivered to her fingers and hand.
“THEN CONFESS!” I bent forward to look into her wildly staring eyes. I heard the sound of another blow. “Only you can end the torture. As soon as you confess this is over!”
She wanted to say something, but only a swell of blood and drool came out of her mouth. “No… no… I can not… I… ahhh…”.and with the sigh of relief she fell limp. She had fainted again and neither more blows to her soles and her hand nor several buckets of water could bring her back fully. Her eyes were half open but she wasn’t fully aware of her surroundings, dwelling somewhere between wakefulness and sleep.
“Damn! The devil helps his whore. She was so near to confessing!” Geoffrey was obviously frustrated that a little girl dared to resist his skills. Then a new thought crossed his mind. “But she’s weak enough now. Her sex is her weakness.” He laughed and struck her exposed vagina with his stick. Jeanne merely groaned, too far away to suffer the cruelty of the blow fully.” I bet after a few hours on the horse, she will confess whatever you want!”
“I only want the truth!” I replied sharply, but I knew he was right. During her time in the army, fighting and living like a man, she had forgotten her womanhood, and to torture her pussy with the horse would remind her that she was not a soldier of God, but nothing more than a helpless girl.
“Okay Geoffrey, put her on the horse.”
I watched how he fixed Jeanne’s wrists and neck in a pillory-like restraint, fixed it at a chain from the ceiling that she was forced to stay, if she wouldn’t hang limb in the stocks. Then Geoffrey fetched the horse… a wooden triangle with a metal edge encrusted from dried blood.
Without effort he lifted the light weighted girl and sat her down on the sharp edge. This new pain made her shriek again, her legs kicked in the air, but quickly he had fixed her ankles below the cruel seat in another rather heavy wooden pillory that added to her own weight and pressed her sex even deeper to the edge. Then he adjusted the neck chain, that her body was more straightened, but without giving her any support.
“My God… stop it, please…” Her thighs clutched to the wood between them, in the futile try to get this edge away from her; her toes and the unbroken fingers open and closed as did her mouth.
“Do you confess now?”
“NO… NO… NEVER… I…” Geoffrey didn’t wait until she finished, but pulled her upwards about an inch, and let her fall back to the horse then immediately, causing a loud yelling scream, that overturned the slap of her sex and back to the wood with ease.
I waited until she gasped for air, her legs still trembling like in spasms, and her body now covered with fine pearls of sweat from head to toes.
“The next time you will fall down from a bigger distance,” I stated with rough voice, fighting each sign of pity in view of the tears running from her beseeching eyes.
She closed it with a loud sighs and bite her lips. On my sign, Geoffrey pulled her upwards again, until the blood from her wounded sex dropped down to the wood several inches below. When the pressure on her sex decreased, she first let hear an sound of relieve, but this ended fast in a gurgling sound, when the neck-shackle pressed harder against her neck and strangled her. Her eyes were filled with panic now; she tried to close her legs, to press her knees against the wood.
I nodded to Geoffrey and grinning he let the chain go, so she fell down to the sharp edge again with more speed and force this time. The pain was such a shock, that she even didn’t scream, her mouth was wide open as was her eyes, that only showed the white. Then after some long moments, a shrill howling scream filled with agony and desperation left her mouth that ended in a low crying and sobbing.
“Jeanne, end this finally and talk! With each minute of stubbornness your pain will become worse.” To underline my worse, Geoffrey advances with a big pliers and squeezed the soft flesh at her size with brutal force. Again she shrieked out loudly, but only shook her head.
“Add the weights,” I commanded and quickly Geoffrey fixed two heavy stones to her leg-shackles that stretched out her legs completely and pressed her down to the sharp edge with even more force.
“You goddamned bastards!…you…!” More curses followed, curses, she only could have learnt from her soldiers. Geoffrey worked now with the pliers on the flesh of her belly, arms and legs, and still she cursed, tried to keep herself in rage to hide the increasing weakness.
Finally he reached her breast, squeezed the right one with brutal force, and now finally her curses ended in loud sobbing and crying, tears dropped down from her face, and she only whimpered, started now finally to beg for mercy.
“Talk now, you damned bitch!” Geoffrey also was covered with sweat now, led the bluish colored breast go and gripped the nipple of the left. “Talk, before I tear this away!”
“No please, no!” He increased the pressure, and she shrieked out loudly another time, weaker and hoarse now. “Please, please…stop this!” Her face now was wet from tears, her voice almost to low to understand.
“Do you confess?” Geoffrey twisted and pulled at the pliers. Her nipple already was black from the pressure. “I start to loose my patience with you, French bitch!” Additionally he stepped on the wood between her legs, but she didn’t have the force to scream anymore.
“I…I… may not betray my God!” She only whispered almost to low to understand her words.
“Damned bitch!” Furious now he let her breasts go, and punched the pliers with force against her vagina, that was violently pressed against the wood below already. But even this and some more blows only made her body trembling in spasms, her face was distorted to a mask of pure agony, but she still she didn’t speak out the words that would free her from this pain.
Geoffrey threw the pliers away and grabbed again the chain to pull her upwards, higher and higher, until the wood between her mercilessly stretched legs hit the blood-covered horse from below.
“No…no… You may not do this…!” She gasped with effort, fighting against the strangling neck-shackle. I saw how she tried to raise her feet, to close her legs, but she was much too weak now to fight the heavy weights that kept her trembling and spasming legs straight and spread, giving a free look to her blood-covered inner thighs.
“I have to do it, if you don’t confess now!” Pure desperation in her eyes, when she started to shake her head. Geoffrey let her go a bit, but only as fake, kept her away from the horse in time and pulled her up again, before her panicked screams has stopped.
“Please… yes… I …… what do you want me to say?” She sobbed now like a little girl, and I saw that she really had given up in this moment completely; finally she was ready to confess.
But just in this moment, when I wanted to give the sign to let her down, the door to the torture room was opened with a loud noise.
“DAMNED, how do you dare to torture this bitch when I cannot watch it!” The Earl ran inside with a face red from anger and gave Geoffrey a rude push, so that his wet hands lost the grip to the chain. The body of Jeanne fell down from a height as long as a lower arm clutched on the edge with a force, that the blood poured up to my face. She tried to yell, but the shock of pain has driven all breath out of her lungs, so she yelled silently, riding an obscene dance of pain for some moments until she felt limb in her bounds, only week movements of her chest showed that she wasn’t dead.
“Congratulation, Earl,” I said sarcastically. “You just have stopped her confession rather effectively!”
“Who cares,” still filled with anger he kicked against the horse, but without getting any reaction from the fainted girl. “Then she will talk some hours later. From now on, I will take control over her torture. You may watch and report for you church, but never dare again to steal from me the fun of torturing this French bitch!”