The year was 1643 and Clarissa was only 10 years old. She was a small, extremely pretty girl who lived with her mother in a small merchant town Ropeburg crowned by an old gothic cathedral. Clarissa's father died a year ago while fighting for the Crusades in some distant land and ever since then her mother had to rely on the small charity she received from the Church every week to keep them alive. People frowned upon those who lived on charity and most of their neighbours were envious when Rev. Samuel brought them a basket of food on every Friday. Because of this, Clarissa's friends stopped playing with her. Their parents disliked her and everyone avoided her when she walked down the street even though she wore old clothes and walked barefoot and was almost always hungry. The only thing that shone on her was her beautiful hair and pretty face that stood out from the crowd.

This was the time of witch hunts. Hateful people often accused their enemies of witchcraft if they wanted to get them in trouble and eliminate them. This was easy because the Church and the Holy Inquisition feared witches and witchcraft and they went to any length to catch as many witches as possible. Anyone was a suspect, even little children. Especially little children. But it wasn't the death by fire while tied to a stake that everyone feared the most. It was the torture in secret chambers and cells hidden deep beneath the Cathedral towers where the most hideous and perverted punishments, tortures and humiliations took place in the presence of Cardinals, Bishops and Priests.

In town of Ropeburg, Cardinal Santino was in charge of the Holy Inquisition. The bored, lazy and fat Santino had little to do since last autumn when he caught his latest victim and promptly accused her of witchcraft. She was his favorite type too: only 12 years old, slender and beautiful child who pled for mercy as he unleashed his cruel instruments of torture on her young and undeveloped body. It was more than eight months ago. But on this Monday morning when Mary, the town whore, walked into his office, he knew his luck had returned.

"What is it this time, Mary?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Mary was his paid agent, always on the look out for unfortunate victims to deliver to Cardinal Santino and pay off her freedom to work as the only whore in town.

"Another evil one, Holy Father" Mary whispered in fear. "She was seen talking to the devil and making other children ill. She is a powerful witch, Holy Father. Her name is Clarissa."

"Where can we find her, Mary? Speak up!"

"She lives down the lane next to the butcher shop. Very pretty child. Probably a curse of the devil!"

"Very well, Mary. The Church is greatful for your help. You may go now." Santino hissed. "We will call you to be a witness in Clarissa's trial."

On the following day, soldiers of the Holy Inquisition stormed on the small house on the lane next to the butcher's shop. The neighbors looked on and cheered as the small girl had her hands tied and was led out of the house followed by her mother's pleas and cry. Everyone knew what was in store for Clarissa as she was led toward the great gothic Cathedral where Cardinal Santino awaited his little victim. As soon as she was led into his chamber, his face lighted up.

"Well, well, what do we have here? A little witch!" Santino yelled. "Is this how you repay us for our charity that keeps you and your mother alive? You will suffer now for your heresy, little one. You will learn not to embrace the Devil and spread havoc among our flock. Take her away to the court now and summon the Holy Judges! Let the Inquisition begin!"

-- added by KinderSlave, June 10 2004

Cardinal Santino raised his eyes from their habitual contemplation of his fingers as Dr. Antonio entered the audience chamber.

"It was kind of you to come, Dr. Antonio," he said. "Please sit at the end of the table."

Dr. Antonio knelt before the crucifix for a moment, then moved to the place assigned him. The make up of the tribunal was as he had seen it before.

"The poor sinner we are going to question has never been subjected to the methods of the Holy Inquisition," Cardinal Santino explained. "Unfortunately for the child, she refuses to divulge the names of her associates."

At the sight of Dr. Antonio, Clarissa paused for a second, then walked, straight and lovely, to stand before the table and her judges. Her cheeks were marble pale, and Dr. Antonio saw, from the rapid flutter of the pulse at her throat, that her heart was pounding rapidly.

"Clarissa, 10 years old," the notary read. "Prisoner of the Holy Tribunal, accused of the heresy of witchcraft and sorcery, and of associating in these practices with the Devil."

"Yesterday, my child," Cardinal Santino said, "we received information about your sin of participating in the heresy of the invocation of Satan through the ceremony known as the Black Mass. Be sure that if you confess to this grievous sin, it will remove a great load from your soul. But sin is not expiated by confession only. You must identify those who have been associated with you in such practices, so that they, too, may be saved from eternal damnation."

Clarissa lifted her head. "I... I haven't done anything like that..."

Cardinal Santino's voice changed; it grew kind and soft, and Antonio looked at him in surprise. "Now it is very foolish of you, my beautiful child, to persist in this denial when the details of this matter are well known to me. Already others have named some of them."

Was he lying? Dr. Antonio wondered. Had any others of the troupe been captured? It was an accepted practice of the Inquisition, he knew, to make such statements, even though not true, on the grounds that any amount of dissembling was justified if it were intended to save souls from the eternal torment demanded for heretics.

"My child," Cardinal Santino persisted, "do you still refuse to identify those guilty of heresy with you?"

"Please... I want my mommy..." Clarissa murmured.

"Look there at the end of the room, then," he commanded. "These are the instruments which must be used, according to Holy Law, to teach those who refuse stubbornly to admit their sins the folly of their stand. It is not my desire that you should suffer the pain of these instruments, but if you insist upon defying us, we have no choice under the law but to proceed. Look at them now and tell me if you persist in your stubborn refusal."

Seen close at hand, the machines of the Inquisition were diabolically simple, for all their power to break human wills. Simplest of all was the hoist, nothing more than a rope running through a pulley attached to one of the crossbeams of the ceiling, a simple application of the principle of the pulley to be found everywhere. But its use here was peculiarly suited to the needs of the Inquisitors. Nearer was the rack, that devilishly ingenious Procrustean bed designed to stretch limb from limb. And to one side, by itself, the instrument favored most by the Spanish Inquisitors since the time of Torquemada, the escalera, ladder, or "water torture." Nothing ever designed by the evil genius of the Holy Office equaled in horror this combination of garrotement and strangulation.

"Please let me go..." Clarissa said. "I promise I'll never be naughty again."

Cardinal Santino's fingers clenched and the light in his eyes burned brighter. "The potro," he said softly.

A squat man who had been waiting beside the machines came up to the trembling little girl. "Raise your arms," he commanded.

Clarissa tried to obey but could hardly move them, and the man reached out and jerked them up. She screamed with pain, and Dr. Antonio gripped the edge of his chair as the reason became clear to him. Nothing else hurt quite so effectively as that simple machine. With the wrists lashed together behind the back and a rope attached to them and carried up over the pulley, the victim's arms could be lifted backward merely by pulling on the other end of the rope. As the pressure was gradually increased, the heels of the victim could be cleared of the floor, leaving the whole weight of the body to be borne by the overextended arms and her tiny arched feet resting on tip toes.

With a single movement the torturer ripped from Clarissa's body the rough garment worn by the accused during the question, leaving her nude. Dr. Antonio felt a surge of fruitless anger at this wanton display of the child's lovely naked body to the lascivious gaze of the guards and the members of the tribunal itself. The notary at the end of the table licked his lips nervously; it was obvious that sights such as this were not often afforded the members of the Holy Tribunal.

At a nod from the torture master, two of his assistants wheeled into the room a strange looking machine, little more than a short ladder mounted on wheels. Its appearance was deceptive, however, for this was the ladder of the potro, the "water torture," so much favored by the Spanish Inquisitors, and one of the most evil machines ever invented.

With rough hands they lay little Clarissa upon the ladder, face upward, and bound her arms and legs to the wooden frame. To each leg and arm cords were also applied but left loose, encircling the limbs above the knee and elbow. The ladder was then slanted so that her head was lower than her feet, and a leather cuff was applied about her forehead by which her head was lashed to the top crosspiece of the ladder, holding her rigid and unable to move.

"Clarissa," Cardinal Santino's voice rang out, "are you ready to name your associates?"

"Please... let me go." Her voice was low but clear.

"Proceed, then." His voice was like a whiplash. "Perhaps you would like to see this closer, Doctor," he said graciously. "It has certain medical interest."

Dr. Antonio had no choice but to accede. From the ladder Clarissa's eyes stared fixedly at the ceiling, but her face was marble white in its pallor and her lips were bloodless except for a spot of red where her teeth had bitten through the flesh.

Now the torture master took up a peculiarly shaped piece of metal. It had two prongs and a strap with which to fix it in place. Prying open her mouth, he inserted one of the prongs behind her lower teeth and the other inside her upper jaw, distending her mouth just short of dislocating her jaws. With the strap he fixed the instrument to the side of the ladder. Dr. Antonio recognized the device from his reading: it was the bostezo, or gag. The child's nostrils were next securely plugged so that she could breathe only through her mouth. From a small chest containing his accessories the torture master now took a long strip of cloth which he bound across her mouth, covering the gaglike bostezo. This was the toca, the real device through which this diabolical instrument operated.

"The garrotes," the torture master directed, and his assistants inserted small sticks into the loops about Clarissa's legs and arms. Slowly they twisted the sticks, tightening the cords until they compressed the skin.

At a nod from Cardinal Santino, the torture master took up a pitcher of water and began to pour it slowly upon the toca, where it lay loosely across the bostezo in Clarissa's mouth. And now Dr. Antonio could see the fiendish ingenuity of this method, for as the loose cloth filled with water, it was carried backward by its own weight, sinking ever deeper into her throat. Inevitably some of the water seeped through the cloth, and in the agony of near strangulation, she tried futility to swallow and clear her throat for breathing. She could obtain air in no other way, for her nostrils were tightly plugged.

"Tighten the garrotes," the torture master ordered, and his assistants began to twist the sticks that tightened the cords about her limbs. Dr. Antonio could see them bite into Clarissa's flesh. Torn between the agony of trying to swallow and slow strangulation, Clarissa writhed against the lashings that held her naked little body. But she succeeded only in spilling more water from the toca and increasing her difficulty in breathing. Slowly her struggles grew weaker and her face took on a bluish tint of near asphyxiation.

"As you can see, Doctor," Cardinal Santino said, "the potro is a peculiarly effective instrument."

"It is inhuman," Dr. Antonio croaked hoarsely.

"Drastic measures must be used to save souls from eternal damnation. Surely you can see that."

Dr. Antonio looked at the Inquisitor. The light that burned in those deep set eyes was so utterly satanic in its unholy pleasure that the realization came to him with a physical shock. Cardinal Santino was enjoying this spectacle of human agony, enjoying it with that strange perverted sense of pleasure in pain which he had read about but never before seen. Had he but known, it characterized most of the Inquisitors of the day.

Just when it seemed that poor little Clarissa must suffocate, the torture master removed the toca. Barely conscious, the child managed to swallow the water which had accumulated in her throat and drew in her breath with great shuddering gasps. Cardinal Santino bent over her. "Confess, my child," he urged. "Name your accomplices and this agony will be spared you."

But Clarissa, with a strength of will which Dr. Antonio knew he would not have possessed, managed to gasp out, "I haven't done anything! Mommy! I want my Mommy!"

"Apply the toca," Cardinal Santino ordered.

Dr. Antonio wondered if he could stand it any longer, but knew no way to help little Clarissa in her agony. Once more the terrible process began, and as he watched her futile struggles to breathe, Dr. Antonio wondered what inhuman pleasure the torture of that slender child body would have brought to these fiends in black!

The agonizing struggle for breath was repeated again, and once more the garrotes bit into Clarissa's soft limbs. The agony from them alone, Dr. Antonio knew, must be almost intolerable. Then suddenly her whole body went limp and there was a strangling sound as water poured unhindered down her throat.

"She has fainted," Dr. Antonio cried. "Quick, or she will drown."

But the torture master was on the alert for just such a complication, and he jumped immediately to the toca and ripped it from her mouth, lowering the head of the ladder at the same time until her body was almost vertical. Water poured from her throat and lungs, and in a few seconds she coughed and began to breathe again.

"That is enough!" Dr. Antonio shouted at Cardinal Santino. "Do you want to kill the child?"

"We will discontinue the question," the Inquisitor said blandly, "and resume on the morrow."

"Tomorrow!" Dr. Antonio echoed with horror. "Surely you will not do it again."

"We have no choice, my son. The fate of her immortal soul is at stake."

"But canon law forbids the question more than once."

Cardinal Santino said sharply. "We have only discontinued, not finished it. The questioning is not complete until the prisoner confesses to the crime and names those associated in it. Unlash her and remove her to the dungeons," he directed his assistants. Then he turned to Antonio again. "Will you accompany her, Doctor, and see that she recovers from this faint."

Antonio nodded, too angry to speak. Had words begun to come from his mouth, he knew that they must have been curses upon the inhumanity of the tall figure in the black robe. And that, he realized, would have been playing directly into Cardinal Santino's hands.

The guards placed Clarissa on the narrow bench in her cell and departed.

-- added by De Sade, June 11 2004

"And now that your evil plot has failed, my child, you WILL sign the confession" Cardinal Santino said calmly, almost enjoying the words.

Clarissa drew a deep breath and calmly stated "I will not sign anything. You cannot make me". As the words left her mouth she knew how untrue this was and her mind began to race, conjuring up images as to what Cardinal Santino would do to her to make her comply. She knew it was only a matter of time before she was beaten.

"Clarissa, let me explain. In your very own dungeon awaits an Inquisition Torturer by the name of Tyro The Inquisitor. I am sure he will be delighted to bring about your capitulation but let me warn you, it will not be pleasant. You will suffer great pain and humiliation. I urge you to re-consider". Cardinal Santino said calmly, almost genuinely.

The reputation of Inquisitors was well known to Clarissa and fear gripped her immediately. But she refused to show it and finally uttered definitely "Do as you will. I'm not a witch".

Cardinal Santino gave a wry smile. "I doubt Tyro will allow you that escape, Clarissa".

The old dungeon deep beneath the cathedral hadn’t been used in often and a musty damp smell pervaded Clarissa’s nose as she shivered in the corner, awaiting her fate. She had been spanked before but knew that the Inquisition Torturer would employ techniques that were beyond anything she could take.

As she stood there, her hair in a ponytail, her preteen body trembling, Clarissa looked like 6 year old girl rather than 10 year old girl she was. She was alone, scared. But she knew she had to try to hold out as long as she could.

Suddenly, the door opened and into the dungeon stepped Tyro, wearing what appeared to be a surgeon’s tunic. He stood at over 7 foot tall and was very overweight. Clarissa felt her stomach churn with terror. In his hand was a large bag, which Clarissa feared contained his hideous instruments of suffering.

"My, my. What a beautiful little child. This is going to be most interesting" Tyro said.

He removed small devices from his bag and passed it to Clarissa. "Please put these clamps on my your nipples, my dear." he asked but Clarissa refused.

"Please don’t refuse me, child, I am not patient" Tyro said. At that, Tyro grabbed Clarissa’s ponytail, wrenching her head back sharply and forced cold metal clamps onto her budding nipples. "There, now we can begin" Tyro said, returning to his calm self.

Clarissa tried to remove the clamps biting into her tiny nipples and breast flesh but it was clamped fast and it wouldn’t move. She knew that she was now within Tyro’s power.

"Let me tell you what I am going to do" Tyro announced, using the psychological advantage of making a torture victim aware of what was to happen. He continued "First, I will have some fun with you, then I will humiliate you. Then after I rape you I will inflict indescribably pain upon you. Personally, I don’t think we’ll need to get that far, you’ll be begging me to let you sign that confession within an hour" Tyro said confidently.

"Tell me, Clarissa, are you a virgin?" Clarissa drew a deep breath and remained silent.

Tyro stabbed at a small controller in his hand and Clarissa felt a sudden stabbing pain in her nipples, like an acute pin prick. She winced but remained silent.

"This is just level one of the Inquisitor" said Tyro. "It has 10 levels in total, the final one being enough to burn off your nipples". At that he flicked the setting to level two and instantly the thumping pain in Clarissa’s budding breasts increased, causing her to let out a groan. Her breathing increased as she struggled to cope with the pain but still she did not talk.

Tyro increased the pain to level three and Clarissa whimpered, her hands moving to her cheast in a vain effort to remove the clamps biting deep into her little breasts.

Suddenly, the pain stopped and Clarissa slumped, gasping for breath. If that was level three, how could she possible stand any more?

"Answer me, Clarissa. Are you a virgin?" Clarissa delayed but spotting Tyro’s finger on the controller, finally spoke. "Yes, of course I am. I am only 10 and..."

"...10 yes, but you are a woman, or at least starting to become one. Tell me, do you masturbate?" Asked Tyro.

Clarissa was ashamed to answer and instead just stared at Tyro. But then the pain engulfed her again and she knew she had to respond. "Yes, yes I masturbate" she said through teeth clenched against the pain.

"Good said Tyro. I would like to see that. Undress for me please". He commanded.

Clarissa’s eyes welled with tears. The level three pain was still hammering at her breast buds but she could not give in to this request. No man had ever seen her naked.

Sensing further defiance, Tyro increased the pain to the next level. Clarissa screamed as the unbearable searing pain ripped at her chest. She fell to the floor, clutching her little mounds of flesh, screaming. The pain stopped.

Tyro didn’t need to ask again. Slowly, Clarissa began to remove her panties until she stood naked before her torturer. She was sobbing with fear and rage, her young body trembling.

"Beautiful" said Tyro calmly, fingering the controller device and began to rub his groin through his tunic, disgusting Clarissa. And then, he slipped his trousers off to reveal a massive, erect, ugly penis with glistened with sweat. Clarissa almost passed out with the fear of that thing invading her, violating her body. She was more scared than she had ever been in her life and involuntarily she wet herself, a thin trickle of urine dripping to the floor of the cell.

"Scared little girl? I like that. But what a big baby, wetting yourself. Time to teach baby a lesson I think. Clean up your mess….. lick it up" Tyro said, still slowly playing with himself.

Clarissa found a new inner strength, fuelled by rage and she spat at Tyro. He rewarded her with a new stab of pain. "Lick it bitch" he insisted again and increased the torture device a further level. Clarissa wailed in pain as the device burnt into her pink puffy nipples. It stopped and she slumped forward, her face to the floor. Slowly she moved to the tiny puddle she had made.

"DO IT" Tyro commanded and forced Clarissa’s face into the puddle with one hand whilst tugging painfully at her ponytail with the other. The stone floor grazed the child’s cheek and the warm yellow pool stung her there immediately. Crying uncontrollably now, Clarissa began to lick her own urine, the acid stinging her tongue.

After a few minutes, Tyro commanded her to stop and the little girl lay on the floor, face down, naked and crying, totally humiliated.

"Play with yourself for me" Tyro said calmly.

The Queen turned onto her back to face Tyro. "Go to hell you monster" she screamed and regretted it immediately as the nipple clamps came back to life, now at level six.

"Aaaggghhhh" screamed Clarissa as she writhed in agony on the floor, clutching her poor nipples, trying to stop the unbearable pain. Her breast buds were on fire, her very sole being eaten by wave after wave of unbearable unrelenting energy. Clarissa’s face was contorted in pain, her hair caked to her forehead by beads of sweat. Her jaw fell open and now she couldn’t even tell if she was actually screaming or not. All she knew was the pain.

It stopped and after a few minutes Clarissa did what Tyro had commanded and masturbated. It was so humiliating, having him watch this most private of things.

"Faster, wank faster" Tyro said and Clarissa had to oblige. Her hand rubbed frantically at her young, prepubescent vagina but there was no pleasure. Clarissa normally enjoyed masturbation and had often spent many wondrous hours alone in her room, giving herself climax after climax, wondering what it would be like to have a man inside her. But now this was just mechanical, a perverted display for a monster done merely to avoid more punishment.

Tyro was now rubbing himself faster and faster, desperately excited by the sight of this 10-year-old naked girl masturbating beneath him. As he neared his climax, he moved his whole body towards Clarissa’s and, shoving his engorged cock by her head, spurted his hot white come into her mouth and onto her face and hair. Then he wiped his dripping member against her flesh. The smell and taste made Clarissa feel nauseous and she literally had to hold back her vomit.

After a few moments, Tyro got up and dressed. He handed Clarissa a towel.

"Clean yourself up. I’ll be back soon". He said and departed, taking Clarissa’s clothes with him. The child lay sobbing on the cold floor, knowing what was going to be next.

Tyro returned within the hour and was now naked, his penis erect again. He moved toward Clarissa until she could smell his sweat.

Tyro grabbed Clarissa’s crotch and slipped three fingers into her, causing her to cry out.

"Ah yes, my little virgin, I forgot, you are untouched. Not for long however".

At that, Tyro shoved Clarissa roughly to the floor and fell between her thighs, pushing her legs apart. Clarissa knew she was to be raped and tried to relax to stop it hurting. But she was too scared to be anything other than tense.

On top, with his cock nudging against Clarissa’s pubic region, Tyro clawed at her, squeezing her small breasts together painfully so that he could lick both nipples together. And then, without warning, he thrust forward, his cock entering Clarissa’s vagina with a ferocity that was unparalleled. Clarissa shrieked in pain as his cock shoved into her, tearing her hymen. He was too big for her and his cock was stretching her vagina awfully. He thrust deeper, grunting as he did so and all Clarissa could do was lie there, taking his weight and then terrible burning fire that rage between her legs.

Suddenly, Tyro withdrew and Clarissa lay holding her aching genitals, a small trickle of blood dripping from her labia where the hymen had been broken.

But then Tyro flipped Clarissa over and grabbing her ponytail, wrenched her head up towards him so he could kiss her whilst standing behind. She braced herself for another penetration but with horror realised that his cock was now resting between the cheeks of her buttocks. He was going to sodomise her.

"No, please, not that. Not there, anything but that" Clarissa begged.

"Sign the confession then" said Tyro.

Clarissa bit her lips. She couldn’t sign, it would condemn her to death. She would have to take the pain. She braced herself for Tyro’s entry.

The man’s cock throbbed against Clarissa’s anus, the head just pushing into the opening.

This pain was bad enough and Clarissa knew she wouldn’t be able to take his whole member inside her.

"Please….. please" she begged, sobbing "at least… use some…. Lubricati……."

Clarissa could not complete her sentence as tyro shoved his cock hard into her tight anus, using the weight of his body to slide his full length into her.

"Aaaaaggaggaghhhhhhhh" Clarissa cried out. The pain was unbearable and her eyes rolled back in their sockets as she blacked out for a few moments. When she regained consciousness seconds later, she could fell Tyro’s fingers roughly being shoved in and out of her vagina as he continued to violate her from behind, his penis tearing at her most sensitive part. So deep was he thrusting into her anus, the pressure was almost enough to make Clarissa’s bowels let go and she had to struggle not to mess herself.

After what seemed like hours, Tyro came, withdrawing as he did so and splattering his sticky hot white jism over Clarissa’s buttocks and the opening of her sore anus.

As the little girl lay there face down, whimpering from her ordeal, Tyro lifted something else from his bag.

"Now, how about that confession?" He said. Clarissa lifted her head and squinted through mists of her tears to see Tyro holding large, chrome penile shaped object which was about as long as her forearm. It was obvious what this was going to do to her.

Clarissa broke down. She couldn’t take any more of this hideous abuse. Her body was wracked with pain, her most private parts exposed and violated.

Her voice cracked and trembling, Clarissa spoke the words she dreaded.

"No, please, I can’t…. can’t bear anymore. I’ll…. Sign……the…… confession.

The child faded into blissful unconsciousness.

-- added by anonymous, June 11 2004

Smells awoke, then sounds, sight and other sensations. Sputtering beeswax mingle with a gross combination of mold and B.O. Clarissa heard others nearby. Metal clanked. Her blue eyes opened to a subterranean world of vaulted ceilings and firelight. Piercing cramps raced up and down her back. She looked up. As high as she could see, her naked arms reached into the gloom. Somewhere up there, metal cuffs chafed her wrists.

A sensation of fear in the medieval dungeon was omnipresent.

The little nude girl was drenched in sweat. She hung from ceiling chains. Firelight danced over her glistening little body. A single tight braid marked her pale back. Attached to nipples were two dull silver rings.

A throat was cleared and Clarissa returned her attention. In front of them were three robed men seated at a dark dais. The one in the center spoke.

"As I was saying, we are the Holy Inquisitors. As a Cardinal, I also have the good fortune to be anointed the papal consigliore. You are in the cathedral dungeon in Ropeburg. The year is 1643, annos domine. Our king is his royal highness, King Manfredi. My name is, Cardinal Santino."

The chains allowed a little wiggle. Clarissa strained her limbs. Her toes scraped the rock floor.

The Cardinal waved his hand, as if impatient, and continued. "My function at this Inquisition," Candles sputtered from atop the dais as torches along the walls fired in the dimly lit cavern, "Is fairly simple, though I recognize the insistence of the monks on either side of me that we go through the motions…"

Clarissa shifted her weight and once more looked at her silent companion.

"As I have been informed," the Cardinal continued without looking up from papers on his table, "that you, Clarissa, are involved in Black Mass and Witchcraft."

Beaded eyes of the monks seated alongside Santino glinted as they read her body. Perhaps, they could also read her soul?

"Firstly, are you witch? Heretic? Blasphemer? Diviner? Or, other sacrilegious person?"

Her throat hurt to swallow, but gulp she did. To all of the questions, her answer was an emphatic "NO".

Cardinal Santino finally raised his head, sighed and settled into his high-backed chair. His hand placed down the quill and joined the other to rest on his paunch. Candlelight illuminated a face scarred with cruelty and as far from any godly sense that Clarissa had ever known.

"Yes, I can see. Mind you, we frequently are answered with denials. Yet, here you stand as pagan slave apparently in servitude long before the demise of the Roman Empire. Somehow, you are here." He chuckled as did the two seated alongside.

Clarissa shivered as she hung.

"Very well, don't speak devil wench. By the authority given to me, I sentence you both to death. He leaned forward and peered at Clarissa. "You Clarissa, shall be crucified the traditional Roman way. May the Almighty shed his boundless mercy on your pitiful soul."

Following the Cardinal's lead, the others stood. Distant screams from elsewhere in the underground erupted. The Cardinal whispered in the monk to his left's ear and then addressed the two. Impatiently, he waved his hand. "Civil authorities will take care of the execution. Monk Dionysios demands that you should be tortured.

Clarissa gathered her wits as the chains holding her up were lowered. Monk Dionysios lowered the chains holding Clarissa up and then led her back to a far wall. "Get up on the rack and lay on your back."

Clarissa did as told. From somewhere above she could make out hanging chains. Her sore arms were pulled behind and the chafed wrists again were cuffed. Clarissa felt her legs moved and ankles also cuffed. Rolling her head, she saw the Cardinal Santino and the other monk watching. Others she had not seen before joined them. Rough wood scarped her back.

"Now let's see what this child has to say…"

Wood creaking behind her forced Clarissa to try and look back. All she could see were wooden spokes of a wheel being slowly turned. Immediately, limbs tightened. Her heart beat faster. Chancing another look back, she saw the wheel continuing. Clarissa felt her rib-cage swell. Breath came in shallow pants. A searing pain shot up and down her spine. The wood creaked again, this time nearly drowned by a pounding in her brain.

Those watching the monk ratchet the rack more enthusiastically watched the lovely little girl's nude body stretch until only the base of her bottom touched the table. Dionysios was getting his wish. This one had plenty of scream in her.

"Now lets hook up these," he said as he pulled the rusted chains lower. Using clamps, he hooked their ends to the rings in little girl's nipples and then worked the pulleys in reverse. Clarissa wailed as her upper torso began to raise. The hooks held as they were lifted higher.

Clarissa sobbed. The back of her head scraped against the table. Her neck was arched, as was her back. She felt the weight of her racked body hang by only the rings piercing her nipples. Panic-stricken, she saw the face of the monk grinning next to hers. His missing teeth made him look more ghoulish.

"You might be interested in this," he leered. "It's a long needle used to locate the devil. In your case, I think I'll start with your little baby breasts."

She shuddered as she felt his hand grip one nipple. Her face grimaced at the prick of the needle. Clarissa unsuccessfully tried to ignore its slow progress. As the needle moved, she felt various tissues and glands torn. Her eyes started to roll back in her head.

The small group of observers applauded the monk as he twisted and poked the long needle through the child's painful breast. With a loud "Pop!" they heard its exit. They watched as he removed the bloody silver and then splash water over the little girl's face. Twin trails of crimson flowed from the pale cone stretched toward the ceiling.

-- added by Pikachu, June 11 2004

Clarissa was really frightened now, but she would not confess to being a witch. She watched as her torturers pulled on the chains and ropes making Clarissa hung from her wrists. More whirring, and her feet were raised shoulder high and pulled apart until Clarissa felt as if her hips would dislocate. The priests and bishops were staring right at her exposed vulva. Then Cardinal Santino picked up a black strap and showed it to the everyone. Then, like a striking snake, it whipped down on Clarissa's upturned labia. Clarissa shrieked in pain.

"Are you going to cooperate?" Clarissa shook her head. Meanwhile, the men removed her shoes. "You will suffer for your stuborness." the Cardinal said. "We play by the rules of the Holy Inquisition. Don't make 'em bleed or break 'em up to the point where they can't be seen in public."

"I think we'll work on the child's twat a while while she thinks confessing her sins." Santino used the strap fourteen times leaving Clarissa blubbering and her labia bright red. One of the torturers took a pan. "Hot wax, little one." He poured the wax over Clarissa's mons and vulva, while Clarissa gritted her teeth and tried not to scream. It was hot, but not blistering hot. They waited a while, as the wax cooled. Then Clarissa yelped, as the Cardinal ripped the wax off. "Isn't that lovely, my dear child? If you had any hair there it would be all gone now. But tell me Clarissa, have you ever been eaten out?" Clarissa shook her head. "Well, surely you masturbate?"

Again Clarissa shook her head. "My, what an innocent creature she is...was." The Cardinal Santino took a hose and played the stream of water over Clarissa's naked labia. He aimed it at her vagina, and Clarissa screamed as the water pressure distended her very private place, where nothing bigger than a her little finger had been before. Then he played the stream a little higher, letting the water impinge on Clarissa's clitoral hood. "Ah, ah ,ah, oh, oh, please stop! Oh, ahhh, please! Ah, nooo!" vocalized Clarissa, as she jerked her legs and hips, trying to avoid the water.

The Cardinal placed his hand on Clarissa's mount of Venus, bruised and red, and directed the stream between the labia so it ran like a river down a canyon. No matter how much Clarissa thrashed around, the end of the hose moved with her, and the water was relentless. "Ah! Oh! Oh, no! Oh, God! Ahhh!" cried Clarissa, as she went limp and hung quietly.

"Well, it seems she's a responsive little slut, don't you think? But, she's not here to have fun." Santino turned off the water and held up a vaguely dildo shaped device. "The old inquisitors called this the agony pear. See how it works" He twisted the shaft, and the other end opened out like the petals of an opening flower increasing in diameter three or four times. "I could use my fist," he said, collapsing the device, "but this is so high-tech. Last chance, little one, to confess, before your virgin's cunt gets stretched."

"Noooo!" wailed Clarissa as the pear was pushed inside her. "Ahhh!" she screamed as it expanded inside her, pressing a stream of urine from her flattened bladder. "There, there, it doesn't hurt that much, does it? You are just humiliated to know that your baby pussy is being invaded, aren't you, you cunt?" The Cardinal pressed a similar device into Clarissa's anus. Even lubricated, he had to push hard, and Clarissa screamed. "Oh, come on. It's no bigger than shit." When it was fully inserted, the Cardinal expanded it. There was no way it would come out. Clarissa writhed with the discomfort of two swollen things in her pelvis, one pressing the back of her pubic arch, and causing strange, unfamiliar sensations in the G-spot she didn't know she had, while the other was hard against her tail bone and seemingly locked against the one in her vagina. She wondered if she wasn't being damaged, internally. Would she bleed, when they came out? "Last chance for a while, Clarissa, to agree to cooperate." Santino pushed a third pear into Clarissa's mouth and expanded it until Clarissa thought her jaw might break. She certainly couldn't talk or breathe through her mouth, except for whistling gasps of air through the hollow core of the pear.

"Now, little one, comes the interesting part, what the inquisitors call the water torment. We've improved on it a bit, in that we can apply it at both ends."

The Cardinal inserted a hose into the pear in Clarissa's rectum and another into the pear in her mouth, forcing her to breath through her nose. The hoses connected to water pumps, controlled by buttons on the desk. A man grabbed Clarissa's hair and pulled her head back. The Cardinal pushed a button, and water filled Clarissa's mouth, cutting off her air! Desperately, Clarissa swallowed the cold water, until she could gasp for air. By now, however, cold water was flooding into her rectum.

She didn't have long to reflect on that, however, because she was again choking on a mouth full of water, and it was all she could do to swallow fast enough to breathe at all. Again and again the water forced its way into her mouth, and she had to desperately swallow or drown. Her stomach rebelled, threatening to vomit the water back up her throat, where it would surely fill her lungs and kill her! Every swallow was desperate, and painful. Her stomach was distended, her belly visibly bulging outward.

At last there was a respite, a few seconds when she could breathe, though she couldn't breath deeply as her swollen stomach forced her diaphragm upward, compressing her lungs. She was suddenly aware of the awful pains in her abdomen. The cold water from the other pump had forced its way higher and higher in her colon, contributing to the swelling of her belly, the disappearance of her waistline, it seemed. The cramping was incredible. "Little one, are you watching how you're swelling up like a balloon? Plead guilty as charged, and we'll stop." The water in her guts continued to gurgle on its way toward her stomach, and the choking water in her mouth resumed the torment of forced swallowing and gasping. Something went wrong, and Clarissa felt the water entering her lungs, shortly before she lost consciousness.

When she awoke, she was hanging upside down from her ankles, with the sting of puke in her nasal passages. A mask and tracheal tube forced air into her lungs. The pears in her vagina and rectum had been removed, and the awful pain of stretched stomach and intestines was relieved. "She's back among the living," said the Cardinal," as he removed the mask. "Are you willing to sign a confession?"

With a groan, Clarissa replied: "No." As she hung, upside down, the men put a sort of wide belt or narrow waist cincher around her middle and tightened it painfully until she again had to breathe with difficulty. The pressure forced the last of the fluid from her bowels; she could feel the warm stuff dribbling down the crack of her ass and dripping off her back. The men hooked her wrist cuffs to the back of the belt, pulled her elbows together with some sort of strap, and then lowered her to the hard, wet concrete floor.

"It will be a while before her vagina tightens up again, but so far she's still technically a virgin. You are going to confess and plead guilty sooner or later. Shouldn't you do it sooner, and spare her pain and suffering? While we wait, we'll just prepare you for further interrogation."

The men brought out a platform on casters with a sort of short vertical wall in the middle of it. They forced Clarissa to stand on the platform and hooked her ankle cuffs to rings at the ends of the wall, spreading her legs in a wide vee. Her arms, of course, were immobile, behind her back. The Cardinal placed clamps and chains on Clarissa's nipples and used them to pull the tearful victim forward.

Clarissa's knees bumped into the wall, and she had to bend at the waist and double over as her stretched breast buds were hauled down by the chains, which were ultimately fastened on the far side of the wall, roughly opposite her knees. That left Clarissa with her rump uppermost. With her thighs so widely spread, her anus and the puffy peach of her swollen labia, still red from their beating earlier, were fully exposed. The men turned the platform around so that everyone could get a good view.

"Dear child, do you know what these are?" The Cardinal, wearing gloves, held up a bunch of long, green plants which looked something like marijuana in the wild. "These are stinging nettles, better torture through chemistry. The stems, and to some extent the leaves, are covered with tiny silica needles, which are filled, under pressure, with a mixture of natural chemicals, histamine, which causes swelling and itching, and various neurotransmitters, which make the nerves much more sensitive. That way, the pain is greater, but the bruising is less. The needles, of course, can readily penetrate bare skin, and they break off inside, injecting the chemicals where they do the most harm, or good, from our point of view." He dragged one of the stems between the labia and up the crack between the buttocks. Clarissa screamed, as a bright pink rash appeared. "Ready to cooperate, little girl?" Methodically, he lashed the buttocks and inside the thighs, while Clarissa gritted her teeth and tried to stifle her groans. Her skin burned and stung and itched, all at the same time.

When the nettles were reduced to limp, smashed uselessness, the Cardinal displayed the reddened skin of his victim and then began to beat the same areas, thighs and buttocks, with a long, whippy riding crop, a cane covered with leather. Each methodical blow left a red weal and evoked a cry of pain from Clarissa, who tried to be stoic but could not contain her anguish. The Cardinal did not stop until the overlapping stripes made the entire area red.

"Well," said the Cardinal, "if we beat her more, she'll be bruised for days, and we don't want her showing off her bruises, do we? Which one is going to break first?" Santino produced two metal rods, with silvery balls on one end and wires from the other. He held them up. "Here's a device very good for ruining a girl without drawing blood." He inserted one ball into Clarissa's vagina and the other popped through the well stretched anus.

"Ungh!" exclaimed Clarissa, as electricity coursed through the muscles in the walls of her vagina and rectum, making them contract more forcefully than they ever had before. Each succeeding shock made Clarissa scream involuntarily, as the organs of her pelvis contracted uncontrollably. The pain was frightening, but, to Clarissa's surprise, the shocks triggered orgasms, flooding her brain with endorphins and feelings of pleasure. She stopped screaming and drifted into what is sometimes called sub-space, a sort of transcendental condition beyond pain.

Clarissa "woke up", aware that the shocks had stopped, but her tortured muscles ached. Just then, Clarissa felt a pressure on her anus. The wall prevented her from seeing her rapist. As her unresisting anus stretched, for the muscles were flaccid from fatigue after the electrical torture, she felt a monstrous penis penetrating her body. Really, she was past caring. What more could they do to her?

Her rapist ejaculated into her bowels and pulled out, dripping cum. The next man plunged his prod into her worn-out vagina, which provided no resistance at all. Clarissa was hardly aware of the internal friction, such as it was. The pressure of his balls against her chemically tortured labia caused more pain. It seemed to take a long time before the man dumped his load of semen in her well fucked cunt. Two more men had their way with her, humiliating her. They were just doing things to her little body, and she was sort of detached, uncaring.

-- added by De Sade, June 12 2004

A silverfish ran across the edge of the table, waved its little antennae in an odd, furtive dance, then dashed out of sight down the leg. Clarissa watched in fascination, then rolled her eyes up, to look at the way the priest-- she assumed he was a priest-- the way his chausible flapped above the ruby waved of his robe, like banners above the town on market day.

This allowed her to ignore his penis, large, to her very small proportions, and rather engorged, sliding over her lips and into her throat.

There had been so many penises, like rude wands of colored flesh, creating pain and degredation wherever they touched. Her body was a testiment to the cruel magic they could create, ripped and bruised, covered in viscious liquids, an organic bath like afterbirth-- she reflected on this, as another wash of it sloughed over her face and hair, dripping with little splatters onto the table and perhaps the floor. She didn't know. She had closed her eyes.

Though young for such revelation, she knew now who the Witches really were. Pain was caused by the Devil after all, Pain and Fire and Torment. Two out of three was plenty to condemn any suspect, after all. When Jesus had been called out by the Devil on the mountain, the Devil had offered Him glory and power, riches and beauty, in return for wosrhip. He had refused. The Devil had then offered Him pain and torment, death and abandonment, abuse and scorn, only to be abated would The Lord only worship him. And He had still refused.

And lo, but though He had endured tortures and abuse, though he had been spat upon and scorned, nailed to a crucifix and his clothes cast lots for, the most wretched of men, he sat by the side of His Father in Heaven, and the Devil could only tempt, and tempt again, those who were not strong enough to choose as Jesus chose. Not so much to refuse pleasure, that was easy. The other, however...

She opened her eyes, feeling the jism dry to crust, and looked up into the face of her own personal devil. His eyes were a watery grey, and his face accented by a very neat beard. His insignia proclaimed him a bishop. He looked down upon her with digust, pity and lust, his arms crossed, his lip quirked up smugly. She shifted her gaze slightly to the left, regarded the Cardinal. Santino, his name. He was doing something with a brazier and coals, fragrant smoke curled from the censors, frankincense and myhrr. Fingers probed the opening to her sex, but she could not see who was behind her.

It hardly mattered. Her body had accepted the conditioning as her mind had accepted that, in the hands of these deamons, there would be no absolution, no release, no mercy. Someone had spoken earlier of her displaying her wounds to others, to arouse pity. What? In the face of the Holy Inquisition? Fear would prevent mere mortals from speaking. Who could she tell? Any who dared to truck for her would face a fate similar to hers. Her mind passed over visions of her mother subjected to the same fate without real acknowledgement. Had she actually submitted to sign the confession? She could hardly remember. She did not think it would matter. She remembered the word death, and that was all she needed to know.

She would be tortured, and she would die, and the world would think it the will of God. As they would.

In the meantime, her attention jumped back to reality as the Cardinal approached with a young boy, robed in white, bearing the censer. He was not much older than Clarissa, perhaps thirteen. He was posessed of beautiful, dark curled hair and a smooth complexion, free of marks of the pox and his eyes were covered with a blindfold.

"The time for redemption is not yet passed," Said the Cardinal, placing two fingers beneath her befouled chin, "so long as a body still has breath to speak, or hands to draw, it may absolve itself from sin. I see now that your sin, however, runs deep, possibly to the root. You have endured more hideous pleasures at the hands of Satan himself, have you not, in his Sabbats?"

Clarissa stared dully up at the Cardinal, but her eyes flicked back to the boy at his side. He was blindfolded, but could he hear? She found her voice, cracked and dry though it was,

"I have not!"

"Describe them for me." The Cardinal dipped a pair of brass tongs into the censer, producing a glowing lump of charcol. He passed the tongs to the unseen person behind her, and the fingers ceased their gentle torment of her aching sex for a moment. The Cardinal produded another pair, retrieved another glowing coal, and held it before her.

"Can the seed of evil not be fucked out of you by force, it shall be burned from you. Do you not see? In order to release you from the Devil, we must have knowledge of His methods. Amadeo!"

The boy stepped forward a little. Clarissa watched, her weariness gone, body tense. The fingers she had felt before spread her labia a little, ran up and down the sensitive flesh, drawing forth moisture. She knew now this was proof of her purported witchcraft, but she could not control it, nor had she will to. The Cardinal continued,

"Do you see him? Is he not beautiful?" He bade the boy turn, he did so slowly. "Could the devil offer you a more pleasing form? I swear to you child, confess, and he shall be yours as husband. Renounce the vile pleasures of the deamon court and accept the holy ones of the marriage bed, purified by fire and blood. I know you are no innocent, you have proved that already. Now, I bargain with you, child of darkness, that your suffering shall free more poor souls from the torment you have endured til now. Confess! Tell me of the sabbats the witches held for their Lord, and in what form did he appear, and with what dark delights His Satanic Majesty tempt you?"

This was a new approach. Clarissa looked at the boy Amadeo and felt nothing but pity. And then she felt pain, pure, searing pain, as the man behind her began to insert the smouldering coal into her damp orfice.

"Confess!" Hissed the Cardinal.

Clarissa swallowed and screwed her eyes shut tight, tears escaping the corners. The imagination of a ten year old child is formidable, but nothing compared to that of men full grown, who believe their minds to be touched by God. That insight made Clarissa's way suddenly plain. The truth shall set you free, indeed.

"First," she croaked, licking her lips nervously, tasting the dried salt upon them, "first, I was brought to a clearing in the wood, alone."

"Who brought you?" The Cardinal leaned closer. The little girl could not answer for a moment; the coal upon her flesh dragged the length of her sex and now seared that partition between anus and vulva.

"I did not see them, for they were robed and hooded."

"Continue," said the Cardinal, and the pain abated a moment.

"I was brought to the clearing, and the Devil was there. The had the appearance of a great goat, with a dark beard, and he was clad in the robes of a Cardinal..."

"The blasphemy!" hissed Sanitno, but the coal did not descend again, for the moment,

"...only slit down the front, to allow his... his... " She could not voice the word.

"Say it," Said Santino, and the coal touched the hood of her clitoris. She screamed, and in her scream, the word came too, between clenched teeth.

"Ruviol." Said the Cardinal, and the coal was removed. He said something to Amadeo that Clarissa could not hear, and the boy nodded, moved out of her vision. A man entered then, the very one who had spent earlier upon her face.

"Honey," Said the Cardinal, "And vinegar. Recount your tale, dear child, while you taste the pleasure that holy congress can afford. Should you require a visceral reminder of what you have suffered, Ruviol shall be here to provide it. For the Glory."

And he crossed himself, and bade her continue.

Clarissa's tension increased exponentially, especially as she felt the boy behind her, his erection, smaller than any of the men before him but still formidable to her relative proportion, sampling the juices flowing from her vulva. She shivered convulsively.

"Yes, that's it. It's better already, isn't it? Now. Go on."

But she couldn't speak. There are chains and chains, after all. The clamps had been removed from her nipples, the coal from her backside, but here they sought to bind her in a way she had not imagined.

And then Amadeo pushed into her, and she cried out softly, a mewling sound such as she had not made since she was eight. It affected the grown men visibly; the Cardinal shifted, while Ruviol openly caressed his own erection, through his Bishop's robes.

"Speak!" Said Santino, and the coal touched the flesh at the back of her neck. She squealed, and then, through sobs, did as he bade.

And the story she told was the tale of every torment she had been made to suffer since she had arrived in the hands of the inquisition, every humiliation, every degredation-- only performed in the forest, by a horde of gibbering deamons mocking the holy offices, and laced with a liberal sprinkling of what she imagined black magic might be like.

Her account was broken by little sighs and bitings of lip, as Amadeo ravished her sweetly as you please, by grunts from the obviously aroused Ruviol, by frenzied exclamations of shock and also encouragement from the Cardinal, and twice, by the lowering of the coal, to get her to speak faster.

And just before she came to the end, Amadeo cried out himself, and came inside of her with a vengance.

"Very, very good, my child." Santino bent and kissed her on the forehead. You have done very well. Amadeo, remove your blindfold and look upon your wife; who was once the betrothed of Satan himself, but no more.

And the girl was rolled onto her back to look into the dark eyes of the one to whom she would be bound, and he looked down at her. There was disgust, but mostly pity, and not a little of the lust she had seen on Ruviol's face earlier.

"You will see her again tomorrow," Santino was saying, "Ruviol, take the child to her cell."

The Bishop lifted the startled child off of the table in his arms, his hands caressing her flesh greedily. Was there to be more?

"Surely, that was not the only time the Devil came to you, my dear. You are too well seasoned for that. Two more times, I must tease the story from you, and then you and Amadeo shall be given a home in the country, where you shall live out the rest of your days in the light of the lord."

And he crossed himself again, bowed his head, and went out, Amadeo following close behind.

In Ruviol's arms, utterly spent, Clarissa fainted.

-- added by Amadeus, July 1 2004

In the shadow of night, the bishop walked to his bedroom holding a candle in his holy robe. He went up the twisty stairs and gently placed his candle on the ancient desk. Then, the door slammed before him and he jumped and looked back- a tall, figure in a hood with white wings appeared. The Bishop looked at him for a second and recognised him, he was the angel that told him the girl was a witch.

-Cadariel, I didn't realise you were here.

-Of course you didn't.

-The witch doesnot seem to confessing. To be truthful, Cadariel, me and my colleagues are running out of ideas to torture her.

-Maybe, her entire family should suffer for her wrong doings.

Cadariel stood in a way that the bishop could not look at his face. the lowered hood shadowed it. Then the door knocked and Cadariel dissappeared...

Cadriel grinned evil, as he flew, he mumbled in the midnight wind.

-What makes you think I am an angel?

-- added by Whiteday, February 20 2005