The Museum of Inquisition

The Museum of Inquisition

By: Michael Alexander

Michaelalexander7575@yahoo.com

Breanne stepped off the small tour bus and looked up at the imposing building. Its large stone walls seemed to tower over her petite frame, looming like a thundercloud on the horizon. She lifted her sunglasses, and moved forward, allowing Professor Williams to exit and move to the front of the group. His coifed hair stood still despite the cool breeze and his tweed suit, which he said made him feel more European, looked sharp and respectable.

She pushed her auburn hair back from her eyes and allowed the chill brisk wind to whip it backward away from her face. Her hands dug their way downward into the heavy coat pockets, tightening into tense fists as she caught her first sight of the imposing edifice in front of her.

The other fifteen American students gathered at the foot of the steps, studying the new surrounding as would any young college student on tour, taking in the Germanic signs that only two of their group could actually read, much less pronounce. Breanne was grateful that English seemed almost as prevalent, and had been throughout most of their European tour, as each country's native language.

The sign on the building in front of them was in English however, and Bre wondered what group of sick people had decided that a museum of historical torture was something that needed to be created. Professor Williams led the way up the gray stone steps, pressing a small button to the right of the heavy wooden doors. Bre shivered as she heard the light buzzing noise, so common in the old world, her mind missing the pleasant chimes of home.

The gargantuan door opened quickly and a fair haired man in a black suit appeared, smiling warmly at her professor. Williams and the man shook hands, speaking rapidly in German. Breanne shivered, a sudden image of the man dressed in uniform black, holding a whip, with the Nazi swastika emblazoned on one arm. She shook her head to clear it of the image. Bre's heart skipped a beat as the fair haired man looked directly at her and smiled.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honor to introduce to you Herr Schumann, the curator of the museum. He is an old and dear friend of mine, and he has very graciously allowed us to have access to the museum for the entire day, privately. Mr. Schumann is, like me, a professor of medieval history. I suggest that all of you take advantage of his unique knowledge during the tour."

" Gutentag . Welcome to the Museum of Inquisition. I realize that some of you feel very strongly about this subject, as do I. Perhaps you wonder why we would create such a monument to something so atrocious. That reason is quite simple. So it won't happen again, to anyone. The museum serves as that reminder."

Breanne felt the cold breeze and sudden gust sent a freezing draft under the wool skirt she wore. She pulled her hands from her pockets and folded her arms across her chest, pulling her coat closed over her blouse. She forced herself to concentrate on Mr. Schumann's words, but a tiny sliver of fear had crept into her soul. She balked. This place was evil.

"Follow me please." Instructed Mr. Schumann, turning into the building.

The other students pushed past Breanne, who followed slowly and last. Professor Williams stood at the door, watching as his cadre of pupils entered. He smiled at Breanne who stared impassively at a hand lettered sign that had been hung on a particularly ugly nail.

"It says 'Closed for Private Tour', Bre. There's nothing to worry about." Professor Williams said, his face creasing into a smile. He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. "Come on."

Breanne followed the other students into the museum, entering a large hallway. Stands of armor stood gleaming in the shadows, reflecting glimmers of light from a high up window above the door, each holding some gruesome instrument of death. A few richly colored tapestries adorned the walls, along with a sign and an arrow which Breanne's broken German read as "Restroom".

"Gather round everyone." Called out Herr Schumann who stood before a glass display case. Breanne moved forward, gazing past the German professor at the pictures in the case.

"In the case behind me you can see quite a few pictures of some of our exhibits. The medieval time period was one of fear, pain, and much poverty. Many of the devices you will see today were used to obtain confessions of guilt for crimes such as theft, murder, and heresy." Herr Schumann looked down, folding his hands. "Some of you may not be prepared to face these exhibits. This window faces the darkest sides of human kind. Everyone has this side, it's just that most of you have the morals and ethical will to never let it out. The journey we take today, examines not only the past, but your future as well. If anyone prefers, they may remain here in the hall, and not tour the facility." His eyes seemed to stare directly at Breanne.

Bre felt a trembling and she took an involuntary step back, bumping into Professor Williams. He reached out, steadying her as she gasped, flinching.

"I don't want to go, Professor! Please? Let me stay here?" Breanne said, her words rushing outward. The other students all stared at her outburst.

Professor Williams's brow creased downward but then he nodded, a reassuring smile on his face. "Of course, Breanne. I understand. There is a nice bench right over there." He pointed back toward the main door. "If you will just wait for us right there. It will be a couple hours though."

Breanne nodded, a feeling of intense relief flooding though her. "Yes sir, thank you so much. I brought a book. I'll be okay." Her words still tumbled.

Herr Schumann looked on, his face beaming at the group. "Any one else?" No one moved to join Breanne. "Very well. Then if the rest of you will follow me." Mr. Schumann turned and stepped away from the case and moved down the hall, turning right into an open doorway. The echoing footsteps of Breanne's classmates grew softer and then stopped, yielding to the droning murmur of Schumann's lecture.

Breanne stood alone in the hall, turning, examining the tapestries. It wasn't long before her admiration for the colors and weaving moved to disgust. All of the pictures were of executions, horrible bloody ones. Finally, she moved over to the bench, seating herself and opening her backpack, removing a now battered paperback of Longfellow's poetry she had purchased when they were in London. She focused on the words, allowing the prose to remove the trepidation she had felt.

A sound from the restroom doorway startled her and she raised her eyes to see a dark haired woman dressed in a janitor's outfit exit the restroom. Her hands held a bucket filled with cloths and cleaner. Breanne's eyes met once with the woman, but then returned to the book, trying to ignore the cleaning girl.

For several minutes the girl wiped her cloth over several stand of armor, making the already gleaming steel shine. Breanne watched her out of the corner of her eye as the woman circled round until she was standing by the bench, her bucket in hand. The woman took out a small bottle hand labeled "polish" which Breanne thought odd since it was in English. The woman reached down to the bench and Breanne began to scoot farther away, the pungent scent of the polish irritating.

It happened suddenly, Breanne's cry being cut off by the polishing rag. Her hands reached up, scrabbling and scratching against the cleaning woman's arms, trying desperately to pull the soaked cloth away. Bre's lungs felt as if they were on fire and she tried to drag a clear breath, choking on the bitter fumes that filled her lungs. Her eyes blurred and she felt her strength draining. She quavered one final time before toppling into the cleaning woman's arms.

"I hope all of you have found this exhibit of death implements interesting. Human kind as always achieved great progress in two areas: medicine and inflicting death. Take for example, your own country's dropping of two nuclear bombs. We, as a species, have become even more adept at the taking of life." Said Herr Schumann sadly.

"Executions were almost always public. The gallows, the burning at the stake, and the other panoramas you have viewed should have demonstrated how discipline was kept, how such painful deaths were an incentive not to break the law." He waved his hand. "But enough of this; we are ready to move to another exhibit, one I think you will find enlightening and perhaps even enjoyable. The next room showcases the equipment used during the Spanish Inquisition, along with various other devices used on the continent. These devices were not designed, at least for the most part, to kill the occupant, merely to cause pain in various amounts."

Herr Schumann looked around at the students, seeing their rapt faces. "As well as causing pain, many of these devices were sexual in nature, as sexual intercourse was viewed negatively by the church. Women were frequently fitted with chastity belts, some of a horrific nature, which you will see." Schumann paused.

"Today, because of your visit, I have arranged for a special guest. There is a young lady who is familiar with experiencing these types of tortures, and despite their painful nature, finds a certain amount of sexual release in them. I have often felt that the best way to understand these medieval torments was to witness them in action. If you feel unable or unwilling to witness this exhibit, I invite you to remain here in this section until the rest of the class is finished. Nudity must not offend you. Does anyone wish to remain here?" Shuman asked the audience. Not a single student declined.

"Very well then, if you will all follow me." Herr Schumann said, opening the door and leading the group into a dimly lit room. Several spot lights illuminated odd looking wooden shapes, each with leather straps and metal rings embedded. Herr Schumann approached the very first exhibit.

"This exhibit is known as a St. Andrew's Cross. It is in the shape of the letter 'X' and was primarily used to immobilize prisoners who were to be tortured." Mr. Schumann pressed a small button and a few more lights illuminated the scene. "The wall behind the cross is decorated with an assortment of whips and floggers. As you can plainly see, some of these devices were not just mere strips of cloth, but more harsh punishment tools. Ah! Our volunteer has arrived."

The entire class, including both professors turned as a small door marked " Eintritt verboten " opened. A dark haired woman wearing a professional women's suit entered leading an auburn haired college aged girl into the room. She was blindfolded, with a heavy thick black cloth draped around her head, and her mouth was stuffed with a dark red ball gag that was strapped on. She wore a heavy red robe, tied in the front, and she stumbled slowly as the dark haired women pulled her forward.

"Let me introduce to you all to my assistant, Frauline Richter. And of course our beautiful volunteer, Liesel." Schumann smiled deeply. "Frauline, if you will please secure Liesel to the cross, we will begin the demonstration."

Frauline Richter again pulled the girl, moving her toward the cross in stumbling halting steps. The girl's bare feet slapped loudly against the stone until she swayed in front of the cross. Her limbs were limp at her sides as the frauline untied the robe, pulling the crimson cloth apart and pushing it off the girls shoulders.

Everyone gasped as the naked breasts and sex of Liesel were exposed in the harsh museum light. Large soft creamy mounds, swelling slightly with each breath, capped with huge pink nipples, seemed to arouse and titillate the shocked college students. The girls slit was shaved, pink and moist, and having that slightly red fresh look of a freshly shaven pube.

Frauline Richter pushed her backward, her hand on Liesel's shoulder. Richter stroked each arm, pulling them up one at a time and locking the delicate wrists in large leather cuffs. Metal rings were embedded in the leather and attached to the outstretched arms of the cross. The tour group watched in wonder as the seemingly willing volunteer let herself be bound.

Richter pushed the girl's legs apart, repeating the process on her ankles and there was a soft rustle of fabric as the boys in the group all took a step closer, the better to see the pink slit exposed by the position. Finally, Richter stepped back and to the side.

"Now, as you can see, the St. Andrew's Cross is unbelievably perfect for securing the victim, spreading their bodies so that the torturer has access to almost all the most devastating parts. The first item that we have to show you is called a 'pear'." Schumann motioned to Frauline Richter who held up a small metal object, shaped like the fruit.

"The device is very ingenious, working much like a corkscrew. Please watch as Frauline Richter demonstrates. As she turns the crank key located at the 'stem' of the pear, the bottom of the bulb begins to spread. It increases in size. As you can see from this model, tiny spikes, built into the base, become more prominent." Frauline Richter cranked the device open and then back down to its beginning size.

"Frauline Richter is now going to insert the 'pear' into Liesel's vagina. In medieval times, the female sexual organs were often the primary areas where torture was inflicted; however there are documented occurrences where pears were used anally and on men as well."

Frauline Richter had removed a small tube of clear oil from her jacket pocket and liberally coated the bulbous end of the pear. Slowly, with a gentle back and forth movement, she slipped the pear along the folds of Liesel's sex. The bound girl gave a desperate muted cry as the cold metal fruit slipped in deep, leaving only the stem crank exposed. Richter turned the key several times and the girl gave a loud squeal, struggling violently against the leather straps holding her to the cross.

"As you can see, even a few turns of the key can cause intense discomfort in the victim. Pressure against the vaginal muscles as well on the cervix creates a profound sensation, not to mention those tiny spikes." Schumann chuckled. "I think another two turns will do the trick."

Long high pitched cries emanated from the girl's gag as the frauline once more bent down and twisted the key. The girl's body shook and a single trail of clear fluid slid down her thigh. The class watched on in rapture as the girl shook her head back and forth, pumping her loins in an effort to force the penetrating device out of its wet hiding hole.

"I think we are ready to move on. The next set of devices that we will demonstrate for you are several of those whips and floggers I mentioned earlier. The first one is known as a 'cat of nine tails'. It is made of black braided leather, formed into nine duplicate lashes, connected to a single handle. You may notice the reference to a cat's nine lives?" Schumann chuckled, his laughter low. "Frauline Richter will now demonstrate its use."

The dark haired beauty quickly swung the dark whip across the heaving bosom of Liesel, causing the blindfolded girl to jump against the heavy wooden cross. Red welts appeared crossing her cream colored breasts like a tiger's stripes, her breasts shaking from the impact. A long inarticulate cry came from her throat as Richter swung again, laying a second pattern of anguishing welts. Richter finished after two more swings.

"As you can see, the Cat of Nine Tails whip was incredibly painful, and used frequently in public punishments. Used properly, it can even cut and abrade the victim's skin. Now of course we won't be doing that to Liesel, but I'm sure all of you can imagine it." Schumann smiled again. "The next tool Ms. Richter will demonstrate is known as a sap. This is merely two pieces of leather, with lead weights sewn between, attached to a handle. This particular device was popular not just in the medieval period, but even used by law enforcement officers for four centuries afterward."

Frauline Richter held up a thick leather object that looked like a tiny paddle. After showing it to the class she held it to Liesel's chest and then quickly began swinging it back and forth, striking both breasts with each swing. The girl stiffened, her mutted voice punctuated with the quick and loud slaps on each well curved breast. The class moved forward, watching from around the Frauline as Liesel's red bosom began to turn a darker shade of purple. Her chest heaved and a thin patina of moisture formed over her bound body.

"Excellent, Frauline Richter! I think that's enough. Perhaps another two cranks on the pear would be appropriate now."

She dark suited woman smiled, her grin wicked and she dropped the sap. Her fingers moved between the bound girl's legs and quickly grasped the crank key, turning the mechanism and additional two times. Liesel's body reacted with startling intensity, straining forward in sudden energy. Her voice, still muted by the gag, worked to convey her feelings as her buttocks began bouncing back against the wooden cross.

"Frauline? If you wouldn't mind, I believe our dear Liesel could use a taste of the sap against her clit. It would more fully demonstrate the exquisite torture that combining the cross, the pear, and the sap can accomplish.

Richter didn't even hesitate, quickly bending her knees and swinging the small leather paddle violently against the extruding clit of the bound girl. Her body bucked, thrashing back and forth in fierce motions as a torturous croon escaped from her gag. Over and over the sharp little slaps beat down and the class watched in astonishment as Liesel's clit grew swollen and red. Finally Richter stopped, smiling her pleasure. Liesel slumped in the cross as the beating ended.

"Now, Frauline Richter will release our volunteer and prepare her for the next demonstration. While she is doing that I would like all of you to examine this next insidious device…" Herr Schumann's voice faded as he led the students across the room. Richter quickly released the bindings on the tortured girl's legs, cranking the pear closed and removing it with a wet and sudden extraction. The girl jerked in response, but slid back down into the semi conscious state she was in.

Richter ran her fingers over the bound girls breasts, feeling the still hot flesh, and enjoying the thick round globes. The frauline released the girl's arms, pulling her forward in a stumbling, shocked motion. Across the room a few of the students were watching despite Schumann's description of the spiked chair in front of them, and Richter turned the girl's head away, making sure the blindfold stayed in place. The cruel woman leaned in close.

"You don't want them to recognize you? Do you?" She said in a evil whisper.

The girl gave no response and Richter continued to pull her forward, helping her keep her balance. They moved to another exhibit, dark, and quiet, and Richter lost no time in wrapping a heavy leather belt around the girl's waist.

"Hope that's not too tight, Liesel ." Richter said quietly. The girl mumbled something that was lost in the ball gag and Richter finished by tying the ropes to the multitude of rings that were embedded in the belt. The cuffs had been left on and Richter took a moment to tie a few additional lines to each one.

"Ah! I see that Frauline Richter is ready for us. If you will all please follow me?" Schumann announced as the flood lights changed once more, darkening the spiked chair and illuminating an odd looking contraption next to the once more bound volunteer.

"The next torture device we will be demonstrating. It is know as the Judas' Cradle. As you can see, it is merely a wooden pyramid shaped object. These were made in a multitude of sizes and with various degrees of slope. This was important to what the torturer wanted to inflict on the victim.

"As you can see by Liesel's belt, several ropes were attached to the victim, who was raised into the air above the cradle. Today, for our demonstration, we will use a mechanical pulley system, but as you can see from the illustrations on the wall behind the cradle, it took several strong men to lift up any victim. Frauline Richter will handle the controls."

Suddenly the bound girl was raised up into the air by the belt, a steady motorized humming filling the room. She groaned as the belt bit up under her ribs, holding her up in the air. Each arm and leg sported a rope which snaked down to four solid weights. When she was several feet from the ground her arms and legs stretched downward, and suddenly her body lifted all four of the heavy weights from the flagstones.

With a single push, Schumann moved the wooden pyramid under the girl, positioning it directly under her groin. He moved her legs apart slightly and the class watched as the wide pyramid forced the girl's legs further and further apart, until the wooden point was only an inch from the victim's sodden and abused flower. She tried desperately to support herself, saddling the pyramid with her legs, but it was too difficult to pull the weights attached to her legs upward and each limb snapped back down as the last inch was removed. The class watched as the tip pressed upward into the girl's sex, spreading and crushing the lips outward. She bucked, screaming into the gag.

"Now as you can plainly see, the first four centimeters or so of the pyramid have been inserted into Liesel. Already stretched internally from the pear, Liesel is now having the outer areas of her sex abused. But we are not letting her entire weight rest upon the pyramid. In the middle ages, victims were raised and dropped, sometimes from several feet and with much speed, to be gored by the point. Additionally some of the more cruel cradles sported spikes or other monstrosities. This particular model was used to provide prolonged torture. It allows the user to dictate almost exactly the amount of pressure placed upon the victim's vagina or anus.

"Liesel is currently feeling a great deal of uncomfortable pressure on her vulva, labia, and even her clitoris. As you can see from her bucking, she is attempting to relieve the pressure in any way possible. This torture is even used in today's sexual practices, known as the 'wooden pony' which instead of a pyramid, uses a single board of wood, cut on one side to a point. The victim straddles the board, which is positioned slightly lower than the crotch when the victim is standing on tip toe. As you can imagine, as the victim grows exhausted, their strength gives out and the drop down upon the board. This is exactly what we are inflicting on Liesel, except that Liesel has no choice. She is being dropped down with no choice or relief."

For several minutes the watches as the girl's body endured the biting pressure, her legs scissoring several times, but always returning outward following the slope of the pyramid. One of the boys took out a camera and snapped several shots of the swollen lips of the girl's sex, spread obscenely wide and mashed outward. Then the motor hummed again and they watched as her body was raised back up. Her bruised flower turned bright red as the blood forced out by the pressure returned in a flush. Her legs slowly closed as she rose and her head slumped forward.

"I think that concludes our demonstration of the Judas Cradle. I would like you all to give a round of applause to our dear Liesel." Schumann asked politely. The crowd of students clapped loudly, a few of the boys even whistling. Schumann continued, "Now if all of you will please follow me we examine our final exhibit while Frauline Richter assists Liesel."

The group of students followed Schumann as the lights dimmed and Richter spent a few minutes removing the various ropes and the belt from the battered girl's body. Richter caught her as she fell forward, almost unconscious. Richter lowered her to the ground, removing the ankle and wrist cuffs. For several minutes the dark haired beauty massaged the blindfolded girl's limbs, bringing her back to awareness. Together they stood, the one supporting the other, moving forward to the even now garishly lit final exhibit.

"…from popular culture, it has been a favorite punishment through out the ages." Herr Schumann said. "And since Liesel is now ready, we will place her in the stocks." Richter pulled their volunteer forward, facing her back to the crowd, and pushed her forward into the open stocks. With a rapid quickness, Richter bound the girl's wrists and head in the wooden vice, her body bent in half.

"Excellent. Now humiliation was a major factor in this type of punishment. Stripped in front of strangers, or even people you knew, perhaps flogged, and then placed in the stocks. Anyone could touch, rape, or sodimize you with no adverse results." Schumann smiled. "Now we come to the 'hands on' portion of our tour. I invite any of you to come up to the stocks, touch, spank, pinch, or squeeze our little Liesel, on any portion of her body. The only thing I ask is that you not touch her blindfold. Her anonymity is very important to her."

Schumann stepped back and watched as several students stepped forward eagerly. Hands reached forward, carefully squeezing and slapping, as the girl's body quivered and jiggled under the onslaught. A few well placed spanks brought throaty groans and a number of hands kneaded dangling breasts with gusto. Finally, several penetrating fingers caused a sharp squeal and Schumann called a halt to the humiliating violations.

"I believe that dear Liesel has endured everything she can handle, and I need to ask those of you still touching her to cease. Thank you. I hope you all enjoyed Liesel's willingness to endure these torments to demonstrate their awesome affects. Please give her and Frauline Richter a round of applause for their assistant." A torrent of clapping followed as the class applauded for the bound beauty, still quivering from the sensations she had suffered through, as well as the curator's assistant.

"Now, if you will all follow me to the next gallery, we will observe the last of the exhibits…" Herr Schumann's voice faded as the group exited the room.

Frauline Richter reached behind a small cupboard hidden by the gallery door and extracted a hypodermic syringe, a cotton ball, and a small bottle. She swapped a slick of the bottle's alcohol on the bound girl's bottom, eliciting another quick cry, before Richter tapped the needle and jammed it deep into the girl's buttocks. She depressed the plunger, chuckling.

"Nighty, night, Liesel, "

"Breanne! Breanne! Are you alright?" Professor Williams's voice seemed to be coming from a distance. Breanne groaned as the waves of pain hit her; bringing her out of the darkness.

"Breanne! You need to answer me, honey. You fell of the bench and hit your head. Can you hear me?"

Breanne slowly opened her eyes, seeing the face of her professor, along with the concerned expressions on her fellow student's faces. She opened her mouth, but her words tumbled out in articulately, a confused mumble. The only word that made sense was "hurts".

"She's got a mild bump on the head, but she tumbled pretty hard of the bench, and that book of her jabbed her pretty good. You might want to take her back to your hotel and let her rest." Herr Schumann's voice came through softly and with concern.

Breanne looked upward seeing Schumann again and her brow creased. Her mouth struggled to form the words. "I-I-I remember…you." She grimaced as a dull throbbing ache arched up through her body, starting in her loins and ending in her breasts.

"What do you remember, Breanne?" Schumann said, his voice suddenly incessant and intense.

Breanne's eyes closed as she struggled. "I don't know. It's all so hazy." She said, her words slurring.

"Well, perhaps you will remember in time. I'm just glad you didn't break anything when you fell." Schuman turned to Professor Williams. "Seriously, John. Better take this sweet darling and get her some bedrest. The blow to the head will no doubt give her some strange thoughts over the next few days."

"I just can't believe something like this could happen!" muttered Professor Williams, helping Breanne to her feet, supporting her as she wobbled, clinging to him. He held on to the girl and she over balanced, pushing her breasts into his arm. She cried out, clutching at her bosom, tears spilling out of her eyes.

"It's all right, Bre. We'll get you back to the hotel." Professor Williams said. He turned one last time to Eric Schumann. "Eric, I'm sorry about this. It was a wonderful tour, though I'm still not sure I was prepared for Liesel. Please let her know I hope she recovers fully, and tell her we appreciated it."

Eric Schumann smiled. "Of course, John. Thanks for coming. I'm sure Liesel is in the best of hands and will recover…eventually. Wiedersehen! Tschus !"

The End

Author's Note:

The Medieval Tortures described in this story were painfully accurate. This was one of the few stories I have completed that I found I needed to actually conduct research on. I was astonished by the nature of human cruelty, which seemed to move far past any sexual interest into what could only be considered inhumane. I beg of my audience to remember that the contents of this story are FICTION, and should remain as such. Please be respectful of your partners needs. Additionally, any descriptions that are similar to real people or places are completely accidental and all of the characters are purely in the author's mind.

Erimus simul en aeternum,

Michael Alexander