Dungeon Meat

Chapter 5 – Sobbing Sluts

Father Carlos and the anonymous hooded guards hustled Sabila's Aunt Maria into the depths of the inquisitor's dungeon.

"Curtsey to the Grand Duchess, wench."

With a thrill of horror, Maria looked into an alcove that they were passing and recognised Grand Duchess Isabella.

Isabella's grimy, well-pawed naked body was hanging from her slender aristocratic wrists, which were clamped in a set of stocks mounted vertically, high on the wall. Her delicate ankles were indelicately clamped in another pair of stocks mounted lower on the wall. This not only ensured that her dainty little toes never touched the ground but also spread her superb legs wide, exposing the highbred beauty's most intimate charms to the small group of cruel perverts clustered around her. Her soft breasts were clamped at their base between two rollers, causing them to bulge like two balloons about to burst, her nipples swollen to gargantuan size. From her cunt poked the shaft of the dreaded Pear. As its name implied, this was an unlubricated pear-shaped metal object that had been jammed deeply into her cunt in a wave of searing agony. The bulbous end of the Pear abraded and stretched her cuntskin lining achingly wide.

Even unopened, the Pear felt cold and heavy inside her. The force of it pressing against her cervix was deeply distressing. The hooded torturer, his massive bare chest gleaming with sweat in the torchlight, wiggled the Pear suggestively.

Grand Duchess Isabella flushed beet-red and moaned. Her pale white skin showed her blushes, bruises and whip-marks beautifully. The inquisitor pinched and flicked her clit with his strong fingers to convert the moans into sobs of anguish.

Her eyes opened wide as he began to open the Pear inside her.

Each turn of the shaft, protruding like an obscene wind-up key from between her cuntlips, opened the sections of the Pear inside her tool tunnel. It blossomed, an obscene cold metal flower burrowing ever deeper into her warm moist cavity, stretching the pink painfully. As the spiked metal petals of the Pear pushed out, it forced itself in further, pressing hard against her cervix.

The Torturer tapped and jiggled the shaft of the Pear. The cold metal instrument transmitted it all to the very core of her being. Thus, even the tiniest movement of the brutally invasive implement elicited fresh squeals and ever more hysterical pleadings.

Isabella's bare bod was shaking continuously; making the locks on the stocks that clamped her wrists and ankles rattle and clink. The Scribe's pen scratched noisily on parchment as he copied down the unbelievable depravities Her Ladyship was confessing to. Not too surprisingly, they sounded like the ravings of a madwoman deep in the grip of severe dementia.

Father Carlos smiled indulgently as Grand Duchess Isabella babbled desperately about fornicating with the Devil who had, apparently, stood on his cloven hooves behind her during a Witches Sabbath conducted in the nude. The Devil was a backdoor boy, it turned out. She described how his long tongue had reached around to lick her nipples while his enormous hairy member had mightily parted her fundament to squirt his seed deep into her bowels.

A tiny twist of the key brought fresh shrieks, as the Pear opened Her Ladyship's cunt so wide that small trickles of bright red arterial blood dribbled down the insides of her quaking lily-white thighs. This drew even more shocking revelations from the highborn beauty about how, after anal fornication with Satan, she had borne the Devil's Shit Children, squatting down and squeezing them out like turds to run around on the floor, scampering out into the night to infect the villagers with plague. Delighted by this inspired bit of whimsy, the Scribe's pen flew.

Father Carlos clucked and shook his head as an Inquisitor pressed Her Ladyship's belly, manipulating it with the skill of much obscene practise, forcing her ovaries against the hard metal petals of the pear blossoming lewdly inside her cunt. The spittle foamed on Grand Duchess Isabella's shrieking lips as she screamed higher and rawer than anyone Maria had ever heard. The Inquisitors were familiar with the effects of stomach massage on a victim of the Pear. They all stepped back just before Grand Duchess Isabella yorked up her morning gruel over her ballooning breasts.

As the Pear blossomed inside her, it pressed firmly against her bowels and bladder. Isabella's panicky voice quavered like an old woman's as she pleaded hysterically.

"Madre Dios! Mother of God! Have mercy! I'm going to piss myself! I'm going to shit myself!"

The Inquisitors chuckled genially. Her quivering, lily-white buttocks were fondled affectionately.

"If you fornicate so freely with the Devil and his fiends, will you fornicate with us? Freely performing any obscene, depraved acts we require of you?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Anything you want! I will fornicate with goats and bulls! Dogs and sheep! Anybody! Anything!"

Completely broken, her shaking voice radiated the most complete sincerity. The Scribe dipped his quill in the inkwell and documented both this damning admission and her attempts to bribe the Inquisitors with offers of perverted sex. Father Carlos smiled happily. He shoved Maria roughly along the torchlit tunnel.

"We, of course, will have to confiscate her Castle and all her worldly goods in the light of these shocking revelations."

Poor horrified Maria stumbled ever deeper into the depths of the dungeon. A serving wench, naked save for a small white towel knotted around her waist, was walking up the passageway bearing a silver salver with a flagon of wine and some crystal goblets on it. She knelt subserviently on one knee, holding the tray high with her head bowed humbly, offering Father Carlos and the hooded brutes around him a drink. Father Carlos paused to enjoy a sip, playing the genial host as he introduced the kneeling near-naked nookie.

"Have you ever met Magdelene? Her mother used to own this very castle."

He placed a patronising hand atop Magdalene's bowed head, miming a King granting knighthood.

"Arise, Lady Magdalene!"

The Inquisitors sniggered as Magdalene stood and smiled winningly while Father Carlos gave each of her breasts a good hard squeeze. The plastic grin stayed frozen on her sweet face as he pinched and twisted her dark brown nipples until they were swollen erect. Her servile smile took on an even more strained quality as he lifted her towel and crudely penetrated her with his thumb.

Since her arrival, Magdalene had been taking a crash course in Advanced Bum-Sucking at Lickspittle U under the stern tutelage of the Father Carlos and his fiendish brethren. She had proved an apt pupil once she learned that her younger sister was made to scream high and hard whenever Magdalene, a buxom beauty, failed to please. At age 21, Magdelene was prime pussy and the pick of the litter. Her sister, Esmerelda, had the great good fortune to return from visiting relatives abroad shortly after the inquisition had taken charge of her family. A slim, delicate, fair-haired beauty of 18, she had caved in instantly to all demands, spending her days on her knees in the confession booth, servicing the priests as they listened to the mind-numbingly boring confessions of the hard-working peasants ("I have coveted my neighbour's outhouse, Father.").

The male taste of the age preferred the full-figured good looks of Magdalene to the delicate wispy beauty of Esmerelda so Esmerelda put in a brief, shaky appearance at the dungeon each morning, naked and spread-eagled in mid-air, while lovely Magdalene's behaviour on the previous day was examined for flaws.

On bad days, the leather strap would crack down hard and Esmerelda would plead hysterically with a deeply guilt-ridden Magdalene to put in a better performance. Then she was hustled off to the dark confessional booth to suck down more holy sperm and Magdalena went back to exhibiting herself shamelessly, smiling prettily while her naked beauty was pawed and groped crudely, opening her holes for the boys, licking genitals and giving handjobs and humjobs to all the deeply pious priests who laboured mightily at God's work, fighting Satan and his evil minions. As long as Magdalene kept all her customers cumming copiously, Esmerelda just got stripped and spread-eagled each morning for all to see. If the ever-popular, heartbreakingly beautiful Magdalene failed to satisfy every single jaded pervert that came (or worse, failed to cum) her way, Esmerelda got to scream out her shrill pleadings while the strap licked between her parted thighs, kissing her quivering quim with loud smacks.

Father Carlos pulled his thumb out of Magdalene's tight warm fuck hole.

"Magdalene's a very naughty girl, aren't you, my sweet?"

Magdalene produced her most shit-eating grin as she simpered, batting her long eyelashes coyly. The professors at Lickspittle U. had taught her to be a good actress. Her little girl voice was pure bimbo.

"Yes, Father, I'm a naughty little trollop! All I can think about is sex, sex, sex! Can you grant me absolution?"

Father Carlos was generous.

"Certainly, my child. Just hum ten Hail Mary's while you're giving your next knob job and all will be forgiven!"

An ear-splitting scream drew their attention and they all listened to Grand Duchess Isabella's hoarse frantic confessions. Her strained, cracking voice carried loud and clear as she told everyone within earshot about swallowing the Devil's sperm and, after oral sex with the Archfiend, spewing out his Vomit Children spawn, who promptly scampered out to the fields, making the cattle sicken and die. Since this Vomit Children story seemed suspiciously similar to the Shit Children story, her inquisitors were rightly sceptical, demanding a more interesting fabrication to entertain themselves and the masses with.

They listened to her plead with increasing intensity as the Master Inquisitor picked carefully with long handled iron tongs amongst a brazier filled with glowing coals, selecting just the right one for his purpose. They listened to her gasp and offer a veritable cornucopia of obscene delights as brawny hands prised apart her smoothly rounded, creamy white ass globes, presenting her rectum. Her hysteria increased exponentially as the glowing coal was slowly raised between her legs. The pitch and speed of her babbling rose dramatically as her thighs and buttocks felt the heat of the glowing coal, her frantic voice making less and less sense. Her shriek of raw pain echoed hauntingly down the long stone tunnels under the castle, causing all the prisoners to quake in deep dread, as the coal was touched to her rectum briefly. This was going to turn the gang-bang party that Her Ladyship was hosting later into a truly agonising experience, not to mention the Royal Excreting Ceremony.

She sobbed in broken gratitude as the pear was screwed shut and pulled out of her. Father Carlos guided Maria further into the bowels of the Castle as the Torturers swarmed eagerly around Isabella's nude sweating form, glistening in the torchlight, and undid the stocks from Isabella's slim ankles so that she could take on all cummers in her bruised, burning holes.

Maria was pushed into a small stone alcove recessed into the wall of the passageway. Shackles hung from iron chains bolted to the stone wall.

"Remove your clothes!"

Maria licked her lips nervously as she gave a frightened look around the circle of cruel, lustful male faces surrounding her. Father Carlos was stern. Like Lord Escobar, he understood the importance of forcing a female to strip for action, co-operating fully in her own humiliation and degradation.

"Do you wish to defy the Holy Inquisition and incur our wrath? You've seen a small sample of what we can do to an uncooperative female."

Maria hurriedly began to strip. She handed her fine dress to Father Carlos and removed her petticoats. She stepped out of her beautiful, hand tooled leather shoes. She hesitated when it came to removing her fine linen underwear.

Father Carlos tapped his foot impatiently. The hooded monsters surrounding her moved a threatening step forward and Maria's fingers flew.

Her wrists were chained high over her head high to the wall of the alcove. Her shapely legs were spread and shackled in position so that her nude body and exposed genitals were available to the groping hands, questing fingers and dripping members of anyone passing in the corridor. A sharp spike projecting out from the stone wall towards the small of her back encouraged her to arch her hips forward, lewdly presenting herself to any passing pervert.

The Satanic fiends of the Inquisition welcomed her to their dark domain, running their hard hands over her sensitive skin, feeling her up all over, stroking her cuntlips, parting them and finger-fucking her.

They sniffed at her crotch like dogs, smelling her terror.

They licked her sweaty face and chewed on her nipples, tasting her fear.

They whispered crudities in her ears, opening her hitherto innocent mind to depraved possibilities and the ghastly consequences of a failure to please.

Her breasts were pawed roughly, squeezed and twisted, her blood red nipples tweaked and pinched.

Hands ran over her smooth bare belly and fondled her bum. Fingers pressed insistently against her rectum and wormed their way in.

By the time the first rapist entered her, pretty Maria was trembling like a leaf.

It was shortly afterwards that Lord Escobar arrived to guide Isabella through the derisively named Royal Excreting Ceremony. This was a daily humiliation forced on her at the instigation of Lord Escobar, eager to strip this spurning, scorning female of every last vestige of dignity and self-respect. She was red-faced and dripping with sweat as every day he forced her through this degrading little exercise in front of a crowd of mocking men.

Lord Escobar timed it so that the pink-faced beauty reluctantly performed the Royal Excreting Ceremony at the changing of the guard to maximize the audience for her shaming.

Having been coaxed through this repeatedly, Isabella understood what was required of her. She bent over and gripped her ankles, pleading despairingly for mercy in light of her scorched rectum. None was shown.

She grunted, scarlet faced, as Lord Escobar rammed in the enema probe. She sobbed, sweat dripping from her nipples, as he flooded her bowels to near bursting.

He trotted her over to the chamber pot where she squatted with pathetic eagerness. In the past, she had tried several methods of coping with this ignominious exercise in mortification. At first, she had resisted the inevitable while the guards sniggered and jeered. That had merely prolonged the moment, so this time she suddenly changed to straining mightily to get it over with as quickly as possible, spraying the liquid feculence so hard that it slopped out of the chamber pot.

Lord Escobar intervened with his horsewhip. He roared at the squatting Duchess.

"I will not tolerate this insolence! You will lick up what you have so carelessly soiled the floor with!"

His whip snapped angrily across both her nipples. Isabella yelped and covered her burning whip-kissed breasts with both hands. She rolled naked on the floor, huddling into a foetal position, trying futilely to protect herself as the whip licked wickedly between her legs. Lord Escobar's whip snaked around her, viciously slicing into the most sensitive parts of the female anatomy. Thin red lines of blood criss-crossed her pale skin. Sobbing hysterically, each snap of the whip producing incandescent agony, Isabella pleaded desperately to be allowed to lick up her mess.

At last granting her wish, Lord Escobar proved to be a demanding supervisor, acting as Quality Control, pointing out small bits that she had missed, her pretty pink tongue licking the cold stone floor while his horsewhip cracking threateningly. Powerfully motivated to perform, Isabella quaked with each fierce crack of the whip, starting violently.

The floor tasted of shit, piss, gritty dirt, blood and vomit, but licking it up sure beat having her genitals sliced open by a horsewhip.

After that, Lord Escobar briskly instituted a new regime. He flooded Isabella's bowels once more, filling her intestines almost to bursting. Then he coached her through a slow, carefully controlled evacuation. As instructed, the Grand Duchess squatted with her hands clasped behind her head.

"Elbows back. Legs spread wide."

Frantic to please, she pulled back her elbows to lift her breasts and spread her thighs wide, exposing herself fully to the roomful of sniggering, sneering guards. She struggled to open and shut her rectum at Lord Escobar's command like a trained animal.

"Excrete, bitch!"

Gratefully, Isabella opened the floodgates, straining to mitigate the flow so that it would all go in the pot. Almost instantly the next command was barked out.

"Stop!"

Desperation showed on her pretty face as she tried frantically to staunch the flow. The exhausted, beaten babe struggled hard to stop it as the roomful of guards laughed derisively. Lord Escobar cracked his whip. The flow stopped instantly.

"You'll have to do better than that, bitch."

"Yes, milord! I'm sorry, milord!"

He once more loaded her bowels to near bursting, repeating the process over and over until the Duchess had the concept of the butt clench down perfectly, although the exhausted beauty's execution of it was found to be sadly lacking. After repeated failures, Lord Escobar indulgently patted the thoroughly humiliated woman on the head.

"That's enough for today. We'll give you another chance to do the shit squat in front of everyone tomorrow."

Isabella blubbered brokenly as she was led off, foolishly believing that all she had to do was accept it and agree to everything.

Sadly for Isabella, a bitch's work is never done. A complete confession takes time and the most painstaking attention to detail. The once-haughty beauty would be ground hard and grilled thoroughly by shift after shift of pitiless inquisitors. Each, in his own charming way, would encourage her to admit to the most disgusting and utterly depraved acts, all to be dutifully relayed to the deeply horrified King.

Some coaching would be required, because Her Ladyship had never imagined such things possible. However, education is a wonderful thing and the Grand Duchess would be a frantic-to-please pupil as she screamed her way hysterically through her lessons.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Isabella has much to look forward to, but in the meantime, there is the small matter of her court and servants…