Punishment Most Severe

This is a story I wrote some time ago. It's a little primitive and not particularly well written. But I thought I'd post it all the same. The fantasy type is pretty specific so it will not appeal to everyone's taste.

Punishment Most Severe

It was a place of execution. She knew because that was what they said was to be her fate today. She had never thought of herself as a spy. True, she had done some jobs for the French Resistance from her position as a secretary at the Gestapo Headquarters, but she had never dreamed they would kill her if she was caught. She had expected rape when they discovered what she was doing, even some persuasion to make her tell all she knew. In the event, she told them everything she knew during the interrogation with no physical persuasion. The thought of pain terrified her. And they seemed to simply accept all she said. She had never expected this. They had told her that morning and though still in shock, she had readied herself as best she could, coming to terms that her life was to end today. At least she had done her bit, it had not all been in vain.

They had driven to a remote village and into the courtyard of an old coach house on its outskirts. There were some twenty uniformed officers including four women already there. They were all seated in chairs neatly arranged in two rows. At first she thought they were the firing squad but quickly realised they were too senior for that. She had not been prepared for an execution in public. But her mind was still too shocked to reason properly. Her eyes then found a strange structure at which the officers were facing. Two heavy upright timbers about eight feet apart supported an equally heavy crossbeam, into the underside of which two metal rungs had been fixed. That was not all. On the courtyard wall immediately behind the frame, was a huge array of what she thought looked like whips, canes and rods of every description. There must have been fifty different implements. Perhaps even more sinister, two burly men stripped naked to their waists and with hoods over their heads stood next to the instruments.

The two Gestapo officers who had brought her pulled the horrified girl in front of the frame where the two hooded men took hold of her and held her firmly by the arms. The seated people were quiet all their eyes on the young woman. She was pretty, though not beautiful. A roundish face with full red lips, green eyes and a small nose, was framed with shoulder length hair styled in the latest fashion. She still wore the dark green pleated skirt and the cream blouse she had worn to go to work the previous day, though they were a little disheveled and creased after her night in the cells. Her body was spectacular. The men in the seats (and possibly some of the women too) gazed eagerly at her opulent breasts moving almost uncontrollably beneath the fabric of her blouse as she struggled in the grip of her captors. Her legs were pretty too with slender ankles shown to good advantage by the black high heeled shoes she still wore. Her clothes and fashionable hairstyle made her look a little older than her twenty-one years.

The majority of the people in the courtyard had been there before and were aware of the nature of the events which would follow. But this was the first female victim and there was great anticipation among the spectators that this event would be quite special – especially now that they had seen that she was young, attractive and with a most appealing figure.

The girl remained confused, but things were about to become clearer. One of the Gestapo officers walked to the front of the two rows of people and addressed them.

"This woman", he said slowly and deliberately, "Mademoiselle Marie Dupont, a Frenchwoman, has been found guilty of spying." The audience remained impassive. The officer continued.

"For her crimes, she has been sentenced to death and her execution will take place here." Behind the officer, Marie sobbed pitifully. "As has been the case with a number of recent captives, we have been authorised to carry out this execution in whatever manner we see fit. All of us here take the view that the firing squad is too quick and relatively painless. We believe that those who have committed serious crimes against the Fatherland should be treated more harshly and that they should truly pay for what they have done. That is why we have created this special execution yard. In this place, as you know is customary, this woman will be flogged to death." He paused. It took Marie some moments to make sense of what he had said, then everything she had seen fell into place. She screamed. Her face was slapped hard to quieten her. "Furthermore," he continued, "We will make maximum use of our freedom to punish and will ensure that she suffers to the greatest extent possible and that the execution takes considerable time to complete. There are no limitations here. Let us proceed!"

Without further ceremony, the terrified girl was taken between the posts. The executioners took ropes from hooks in the uprights and tied them tightly around her wrists leaving long ends trailing. She was facing the audience. They raised her arms above her and put each of the trailing ends of the ropes through the rungs. This done, they then pulled on the free ends until she was raised up on the tips of her high-heeled strap shoes and tied the ropes off to hooks on the inside of each upright. Her stretched position caused her breasts to press hard against her blouse and their size became even more clear. Many in the audience shuffled excitedly in their seats. The process was slow and methodical. This was going to be a spectacle indeed.

Her ankles were then tied to two rungs in the ground set about two feet apart and directly beneath the rungs in the beam. The first part of the preparation being complete, the hooded brutes looked to their leader for the signal to proceed. As with most things Nazi there was a formality which had to be followed.

"Strip the prisoner to the waist", ordered the officer in charge.

Marie began screaming again as the men approached her. One at the front put his hands inside the neckline of her blouse and roughly ripped downwards. Her breasts bounced wonderfully inside her cotton petticoat. She never wore a brassiere. For one thing, she could not find one which fitted and was comfortable. But the main reason was that she had always been self conscious about her bust and wearing a brassiere only accentuated her size. The man behind ripped what was left of the blouse from the neck. The sleeves remained intact but these were quickly ripped away too. The final action to rip away the thin petticoat was completed easily and the helpless girl was left naked to the waist. Her precious upper garments hung in tatters from her waist. The full magnificence of her upper body was now clear. Her breasts were quite spectacular, full and round with little sag despite their size. Broad, dark pink aureoles adorned them, and in their centres thick nipples, firm in the cool air, pointed out horizontally towards her audience. The full breast-flesh still quivered wonderfully from the violent disrobing. Her skin was smooth, unblemished and had an olive hue. Some members of the audience mumbled obscenities to each other. Others remained silent and transfixed.

Stage two was complete and the men looked again to the officer.

"Very well", he said to them. "Remember, you will both pay heavily if the girl expires too soon. The objective is maximum pain for maximum duration. The minimum time will be two hours!" They nodded. They knew their job well and they knew how to achieve that objective. They knew too that women tended to last longer than men and that this girl was fit and strong. They were sure she would soak up a great deal of punishment.

"We will begin with the breasts. They are normally the most sensitive area of the female body and she will be able to feel most pain during the initial phase. However", he shouted, "I don't want her cut for the first half an hour. Too much bleeding too early will shorten the execution." He was telling them nothing they did not already know already. His words were for the audience, for the girl and to heighten the anticipation and tension. This man was a true sadist.

"Use medium weight short straps. You will apply 50 lashes each. Proceed!"

The men walked behind the frame to the huge array of whips. Every imaginable instrument of flagellation was there. While Marie strained to look over shoulder to see what they were doing, they each took a leather strap from hooks. These were about two feet long, an inch and a half wide and were split for about a foot at their ends. The leather was bound to a short wooden handle.

They walked to their positions in front and to either side of the girl who stared, incredulous, at the implements of torture about to be used on her body.

"No...", she pleaded. "please...no...not like this. I can't bear pain. Please...."

Her pathetic pleas simply drew smiles from her audience and no response at all from the officer. He nodded for the flogging to begin.

There were a few moments of silence save the sobbing of the young woman. The tension and apprehension grew to a peak. The hooded man to Marie's right, his strap in his right hand, drew back his arm first. She screamed even before the leather smacked hard into the middle of her right breast, immediately across the nipple. The flesh distorted for a few moments, flattened by the blow before bouncing back to its original roundness. Marie shrieked, as pain enveloped her full, right breast and she was snapped out of her dream-like state of disbelief. The audience had not experienced this before. The hard flesh of the male bodies they had seen whipped before offered nothing like this. The man to her left, his strap in his left hand then struck his implement into the same place on Marie's left breast with a similar result. Her initial scream continued as the incredible pain shot through her nipples, her breasts and through her whole upper body. She had never imagined such pain.

The audience stared, transfixed, at the barbarity before them. Some men groped themselves as they became aroused. A young woman officer tried to hide her grimaces (sympathy was not in order) as she imagined the pain of the girl.

The executioners continued with their task. The straps lashed into every part of the full, heavy breasts, with the exception of their undersides. Despite her stretched position, so large were they that gravity still ensured that a significant proportion of the flesh lay hidden against her rib cage. Some wondered if she had been specially selected for the size of her bosom and if she might not, in fact, be entirely innocent. It was not for them to question.

She screamed loudly as each new lash fell. Twenty five strokes had been given so far. Her tits were bright red and swollen to an even greater size but the skin, remarkably, was not yet broken. Her nipples especially, were on fire. These had received special attention because of the sensitivity.

The lashes continued. At thirty five to each the officer ordered them to stop.

Marie sagged in her ropes as she realized the lashing had ceased. Her chest heaved as she took in great gasps of air. Sweat soaked her upper body. Was it over? she thought. They had taught her lesson, scared her to death and now they were going to stop. Please God, she prayed, let them stop.

Her hopes were soon to be dashed.

"I want all of her breasts lashed", said the officer. "They will need to be lifted to expose the undersides."

Any of the spectators who had any doubts about the commitment of the officer who decreed the form of the execution must now surely have no doubt that he intended to do exactly as he had promised. They watched fascinated as the men fetched sturdy alligator clips from the equipment racks, then clamp one firmly onto each tortured nipple. Effectively, because of the size of the clamps and in order to have maximum grip and ensure they could not be torn loose, they were attached to the big aureoles which surrounded the nipples themselves. A new shriek erupted from the young victim's mouth. Attaching a thin cord to the end of the clip on her left nipple, the cord was put around her neck then threaded through the eye of the other clamp. The cord was pulled and her breasts were raised up, nipples pointing upwards, until there was no crease and the white untouched flesh of the undersides was revealed. The men collected their straps once more and took up their positions to continue.

"The last fifteen of this phase are to be laid upon flesh not yet harmed", came the command.

The flogging recommenced and the screams loudened as the straps struck virgin skin and the movement of her breasts caused the clamps to bite and pull on her poor nipples. Blood began to ooze from where the teeth of the clamps bit and trickled slowly downwards. The trickles were splattered across her skin at the point where they reached the target areas of the straps which continued to descend ruthlessly upon their targets.

The fifty lashes ordered were completed and Marie slumped in her bonds, head hanging forward, gasping for breath and moaning from the pain.

"A satisfactory start", said the officer. "We will return to the breasts many more times before we are complete, but now we shall move our attention to the back and continue with a more conventional flogging. Remove the clips"

His men went to the girl. She shrieked again as they roughly detached the heavy clips from her ravaged nipples and returned them to their place with the other implements. The men looked to their commander once more.

He thought for a moment. "Single thongs, medium weight. We will reserve the cats o'nine tails for later.

Continue!"

The hooded executioners followed their instructions and went, purposefully, to select their next tools.

The young Frenchwoman's pitiful pleas went unheeded. It was true, she thought in horror, they really were going to do as they had said. It was unimaginable.

Even as her thoughts ran on, her torturers were moving behind her, their whips in hand. She twisted her head to see what was happening and her eyes fell on the evil looking whips they held. Each whip was five feet of shiny, plaited leather. At the grips, they measured about three quarters of an inch. From there they tapered to slender thongs at their tips which lay trailing on the ground. Not lethal, these implements, but much more powerful than the previous straps, they would increase the level of injury and the level of pain for the young victim.

The second phase was about to begin. The faceless executioners readied themselves, waiting for the signal to proceed. It came after the required time, with a nod from the officer in command.

The man behind and to her left, his whip in his right hand, drew back the thong, then swung the whip with his full strength towards the smooth, unblemished back of the helpless woman. CRACK! A much different sound from the previous impacts of broad leather on soft flesh, echoed around the courtyard. The leather bit hard into the middle of Marie's strong back below her shoulder blades. More energy in the new whips but more transformed into sound as the taught flesh absorbed less of the energy than her soft breasts. Only the Germans could analyze such barbarity in such an objective way. Not all, of course. A few of the more humane amongst the spectators felt some sympathy for the victim of this atrocity. But they could not afford to show their weakness. The consequences would be great; they hid their feelings.

Marie screamed with new energy as the whip cut into her torso, the tip curling around her body to bite into her ribs. While the pain was at least equal to the previous lashing of her tender bosom, it seemed, somehow, less horrific, more bearable than the previous phase. This was, at least, how she had imagined floggings to be.

The second lash came, as expected from the other side, from the left handed flogger, and left its stripe across the previous one the same part of her back. Another agonized scream came from the full and pretty lips. The semi-naked girl twisted helplessly in her tight ropes. A futile reaction to the pain. The executioners were able to pick their spot easily and lay their thongs exactly across the parts of her body they so desired.

They had worked hard to achieve their positions, selected for both their strength and their commitment to this kind of task. It was not often they had an opportunity, though, to torture a pretty woman and they relished the job. And neither had whipped one such as this; strong, athletic and with the most magnificent chest either had seen. The right handed man, had a particular relish for buxom women and longed for the next opportunity to punish the girl's breasts once more. But he could wait. He enjoyed too, the feel of his whip striking the flesh of her back. Knowing the pain he was creating; proud of his skill in placing each stroke exactly where he wished. He had dreamed of power such as this in years past, never thinking that one day he would be able to realize his fantasy. The Third Reich had given him the opportunity and he was thankful for that. He had worked hard for his job in the Gestapo and let his superiors knew, when the war began that he would be happy to do the more physical part of the intelligence gathering. He had always demonstrated a willingness to carry out whatever was asked of him and had always been able to hide his pleasure in doing it. He never got particular pleasure from inflicting pain on males, but neither did he object. It was simply a job. He continued, always in the hope and the certainty that one day he would have women to deal with. This day was the fruition of his patience and of his labours. Yes, he had worked on women before. But generally older, and not pretty like this one. He had enjoyed the tasks, but this one was special indeed. He turned his thoughts back to the innocent girl before him and lashed his whip once more into her back, higher this time, across the shoulders. The expected and exciting cry of pain came once again from her mouth.

They laid the whips at liberty now on the skin of the young woman, without order, simply where they thought the flesh had not been touched or where the most pain would be generated. She screamed as each lash bit into her back. The spectators could not see the welt which sprung up each time, nor the bright red stripes which covered more and more of the smooth, olive skin now broken in several places from where blood oozed and ran in rivulets downwards before being absorbed by the material of her ruined garments. Stroke thirty of the second phase cut into the girl's lower back, snapping around her waist. The officer called a halt once more. Marie slumped once more, head forward, gasping for breath. Some strength had been sapped from the young girl, but despite her posture, the experts knew from experience that she could still absorb much, much more.

The spectators wondered what phase three would bring.

To be continued.

Willie