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

A PLACE OF EXECUTION

Part 2

The officer thought for a few moments, then walked slowly towards Marie. He stopped in front of the suspended girl about six feet away. He looked, impassively at the tortured girl's body, his eyes coming to rest on the red and swollen breasts which quivered as she sobbed from fear and pain.

"We will continue with the breasts", he said, dispassionately. Then he walked behind her to the wall, where hung the awful array of instruments of torture. He surveyed the dozens of implements for half a minute or so. Eventually he decided on the whips which would be used next to lash the young woman. He took two leather bound crops from their hooks. They were identical. About three and a half feet in length, their handles were three-quarters of an inch thick and they tapered to fine points. He swished one through the air, testing its suitability for the task to come. He handed the whips to his hooded henchmen. "Continue", he said. "Thirty."

Marie's eyes opened wide in horror as the two men walked to the front of her. Her sobs turned to pitiful pleas for mercy. The thought of these crops lashing her already punished breasts was unthinkable. She would surely die, she thought.

The torturers took up their positions once more, similar to the positions they took for the first phase but a little further back to allow for the length of the rods. This was the third 'execution' they had carried out in this place and was turning out to be by far the most enjoyable. They both liked the feel and the sounds of their whips and rods as they struck that most tender flesh. And they knew well the sensitivity of those parts of a woman's body. This was where the pain was most severe and for that reason it was always a favourite method for extracting information from women. Often, their will would be broken even with the suggestion of such punishment, and of those who were brave enough to stay silent, ninety percent were begging to talk after only a few lashes. But Marie did not have that choice. There could be no escape for her. No option to talk, to tell them all she knew. That was the real horror for her. While the thought of capture and even torture had crossed her mind, she always thought she would have the choice to avoid pain by telling all she knew. She had never thought of this, even in her worst nightmares.

The men waited once more for the subtle signal to come, their eyes on their target, the voluptuous breasts of the young woman. The officer gave a nod. Marie was alert again after the short respite. She wailed a pitiful plea for mercy. The crop held by the man to her right swished through the warm air and her plea turned into a scream. She tried to pull herself back and twist to avoid the crop. The effort was to no avail and awesome force the leather bound rod struck her full across both breasts about an inch above the top of the aureoles. It sunk deep into the soft, swollen flesh, disappearing from view at the places where the flesh was fullest. The rod then sprung back as the resilient flesh of the girls glands took their former shape, bouncing and quivering wildly from the force of the lash. The pain of the lash across her already red and swollen bosom could hardly be imagined, but her reaction gave a clue. It was hard to believe she could remain conscious. The scream which began before the rod struck, was abruptly cut off.

These people were experts indeed. They knew exactly what they were doing. There was nothing arbitrary about their actions. The variation of the whips, the movement between areas of her body were all calculated to prolong the punishment. They knew too, that a woman's breasts could be severely tortured for a long period of time, creating great agony to the victim, but without being fatal. Many of the onlookers were astonished (many excited at the same time) at the coldness, the calculation and the methodology of the procedure. There was no anger here, no passionate indiscriminate beating. There was a job to be done and the objectives were clear.

And if the lashing of Marie's back was agony, this was much worse. The implements of torture lashed into her very womanhood tearing waves of agony through her whole body. It was if her very soul was being ravaged. Her body was stretched taught, her face to the sky and the agonized cry chilled even the more hardened of the witnesses. The second lash of the crop hissed then struck heavily into her orbs, once more directly across the ravaged nipples. It was too much for the resilient flesh to withstand. With the previous lashes having struck that area of her left aureole so many times, weakening the fiber of the skin, her nipple split and when the crop fell away, her blood oozed copiously from the wound, trickling down the underside of her breast in a rivulet to end soaking into the torn remnants of her petticoat around her waist. Marie emitted gut wrenching scream in response to the incredible pain of the mutilation. The hooded executioner looked to his master, wondering if, perhaps, he had gone too far at this stage of the proceedings. There was no change in the expression of the officer.

The man to her right continued, but it seemed he had taken account of the effect of the previous lash and his crop landed higher, above the aureoles, into flesh a little less ravaged. The soft tissue enveloped the thin rod once more, absorbing all of its energy and its pain. It was odd to many who had not seen such a thing before that the noise of the contact of crop with skin, was not louder and sharper given the ferocity with which the blows were applied. The other man took heed of his partners aim and he too avoided the nipples with his next. His lash struck lower, though, below the big aureoles, towards the undersides of the girl's heavy globes, lifting them upwards with its force.

How many lashes had been applied so far? No one knew, for it mattered not. The final number would simply be a function of the girl's strength and the skill of her torturers to prolong the execution. Two hundred? Three hundred? At this stage no one could guess.

One officer in the audience held a cine camera which was pointed at the scene before him. In his lap were extra films. The whirr of his camera was drowned by Marie's screams as the crops continued their ferocious lashing of her tender breasts. Stripes darker and more fiery than those left by the less damaging straps sprung up across the flesh. The skin was cut in a few places though none of these was as deep as the one across her left nipple. The men did not even give her the relative respite of striking her abdomen. All lashes were aimed deliberately at her precious and vulnerable breasts being beaten barbarically. There was not to be even a hint of mercy for the innocent girl.

"Stop", came the call from the officer. It seemed only he was counting. The relentless flogging stopped and the semi conscious girl slumped in her ropes. The two men stepped back a few yards from the frame. Blood oozed from several cuts on Marie's scarlet breasts and trickled down her body. She groaned and gulped in great breaths of air. Her head hung, her chin resting on her chest. The officer in charge approached her once more.

"Bring smelling salts and a bucket of water", he ordered. His men went to the wall to fetch the things required. The officer walked up to Marie and lifted he head up, his hand under her chin. With his other gloved hand, he lifted open her left eyelid to examine her pupils. He stepped back.

"Administer the salts", he said, "And freshen her up with the water."

One of the men, holding a tiny bottle, approached Marie and held the bottle under her nose. There was no reaction for a few seconds, then suddenly she jerked her head away as the powerful odour filled her nostrils. She straightened her head and looked around her. Without warning, the other man threw the contents of a large bucket of water over her face and chest. She gasped and choked as some water entered her mouth, then cried out as she became fully aware again of the pain across her body.

The officer watched the reviving of his victim impassively. "Very well", he stated after a minute or so, "We can proceed."

Though the voyeurs in their seats were truly sadistic, for who else could witness such a scene and not intervene, none had been forced to attend the spectacle. But theirs paled into insignificance compared to sadism of this officer. Or perhaps it was not sadism. Perhaps the man truly obtained no pleasure from the torture he was controlling. Maybe he was simply so passionate about his beliefs that he simply believed what he was doing was right. That individuals, no matter who they were deserved to suffer incredible torture for the actions they took. And that even one so clearly innocent, so vulnerable, so young made no difference to that principle. Who could know? The man's cruelty was only matched by his inscrutability.

He had walked again to his toolshop to choose, carefully the horrible weapon which would bring the next phase of indescribable agony to the young Frenchwoman. It took him 30 seconds or so before he decided. The anticipation was tangible.

"I think," he said coldly, "That it time for the cats. In moderation, of course", he added.

He grasped two heavy black, thonged whips from their hooks in the wall, weighing them as he turned back towards the frame. He brought them to the front of the construction to which Marie was bound so that she could see them.

"These", he said, "Are classic whips, perhaps the best known and most dreaded. They have been used for many centuries to inflict punishment."

Marie's eyes gaped in new horror as the sight of them. "Your generous breasts will have the opportunity to feel these", he said, "But for now, they will be applied to your back."

He handed the heavy whips to the men. "A total of twenty to the back!", he ordered.

The hooded helpers grasped the heavy whips and moved to the back of the frame. Her energy sapped, Marie didn't scream as her torturers moved to their positions. She let out a pitiful moan and a plea for mercy. "Nooooooo.....please, please, no more ...I beg you.....". The men stood ready, towering over the girl. The heavy whips, used so often in times gone by for the severest of punishments in the navy and army would surely destroy the already lash marked back of this tender girl. But the sight of her slender whip marked back and her pathetic pleas made not even a tiny impact on the brutes. If anything, her weakness only fuelled their barbarity. It was what they wanted. The signal came and the man behind her right shoulder drew back his cat o' nine tails. The swish of the heavy leather thongs through the air had a lower tone than the previous whips. The loud 'thwack' as the leather struck her back was awesome. The force propelled her whole body forward to the limits of her bonds and her muscles. The air was expelled from her lungs, her head flew back. Marie gasped in air after a few moments then screamed as the incredible pain seared across her back. The heavy thongs had struck the middle of her narrow back, creating bright red stripes which spread over a band of perhaps six inches. Upon the already red and tender flesh, the pain was unthinkable. But her skin was not broken. It was hard to believe she did not pass out. But she did not. She was young and strong, a strength which at this moment was not a blessing. Her torturers would, at this stage of the punishment of an older or weaker person, have been struggling to keep them conscious.

The second lash of the cat was delivered higher, across her shoulder blades. She had braced herself better for this one, tensing her muscles in anticipation of the terrible blow. The loud 'THWACK' echoed again around the courtyard. Marie shrieked like a banshee once more as the pain ripped through her body. The eyes of the audience were transfixed on the almost unreal scene being played out before them. Some men groped themselves, some were absolutely still. A young woman visibly tensed each time a lash struck its target. The flogging continued, slowly and relentlessly. A gap of some eight or so seconds elapsed between each powerful stroke allowing Marie to recover a little and to ensure she absorbed the pain of each lash before the next struck. The powerful whips, designed for the strong backs of sailors and soldiers continued to descend upon the soft flesh of the helpless girl.

The barbaric event continued, relentlessly, without compassion. The heavy whips began to open up ragged cuts in the back of the helpless, tortured girl. Her flesh was now being damaged beyond full repair. If she were to have lived beyond this experience, she would have to bear the scars for life. Her screams were now diminishing in intensity as the onslaught weakened her. She hung limp from the ropes around her wrists from which blood also trickled from the severe chafing, her head slumped forward now. Lash sixteen of the cats bit deep into her lower back, cutting a deeper welt into the softer flesh at her left side. The seventeenth left her mercifully unconscious and unable to feel the eighteenth which struck diagonally from her right shoulder to above her left buttock. Her lack of reaction was the signal for the torture to stop.

"More salts and cold water," ordered the officer, plainly annoyed at this interruption to the proceedings. The men obeyed, fetching the required materials for reviving their prisoner to a state of full consciousness and awareness so that she could continue to experience the living hell which they were intent on continuing. The powerful smelling salts were thrust under her nose. It took another few seconds for Marie to revive, the pungent odour pervading her nostrils and sinuses and causing her to cough and choke. She jerked her head away from the stinging vapour. Her other assailant then drenched her half ruined back with another pail of cold water. She gasped and shrieked at this new attack on her agonised flesh. Her groans began again as the awful pain returned. It had been thirty five minutes now since the start of her ordeal. Thirty five minutes of an experience more terrible than her worst visions of hell. And the worst horror was to know that it would continue until she died. Her once flawless body was being methodically destroyed by the whips of these men. What was to be next? She had not long to wait to know. The officer was already inspecting the array of weapons once more. Her terror returned to its full magnitude as she realized that if the pattern continued, they would return to work on her breasts. She looked down, pathetically, at her cut and bruised tits, the precious manifestations of her womanhood. Much larger than normal now, swollen by the beating, red with purple welts across their fuller parts and throbbing painfully. She knew that more punishment would begin to destroy them beyond recovery. The lashing of those parts of her body was worse than that to her back both because of the incredible pain and because she felt it was destroying her very femininity.

The officer had picked his new tools. He knew that despite her youth and the resilience of her flesh, the heavy cats would not take long to destroy her breasts. He chose instead slender, willow rods about four feet in length which could, if used skillfully, flay and remove only the top layer of skin. They would be ruined eventually, he knew. The resilient flesh would be broken down by the number and force of the lashes and begin to expose the fibrous tissue beneath. At that stage the fat and the delicate tissue beneath and the milk ducts would quickly be demolished until the milk glands themselves were exposed. At that point, sensitivity would be all but gone, replaced by the mental agony of the certainty of disfigurement, mutilation and the destruction of a part of her which made her a woman.

The officer handed the rods to the executioners. From their half inch thick leather bound handles, they tapered evenly along their length, to fine points. The faceless men strode purposefully to their now familiar positions in front of Marie. She wailed in horror and despair in anticipation of the new pain to come as they appeared before her. She pulled pathetically on her ropes, the muscles of her arms and stomach standing out as she strained against the bindings at wrists and ankles, only to sag limply again as the strength failed her. They had strung the innocent girl up like a piece of meat. They viewed her with neither compassion nor pity but only as an object to work on, from which to obtain the response they sought from the brutal application of their punishment. Her chest heaved, the magnificent, round breasts rising and falling, quivering with terror. Like over-ripe heavy fruits ready to burst. In their present state, watchers believed that the thin rods coupled with the power of these strong men, would surely slice right though the flesh of the girl's tender globes. They waited in cruel anticipation for the next lashes which would determine the reality and tell them more about the response of the female body to such abuse.

Marie's anguished wail continued as the men positioned themselves before her, analyzing the tortured body of their victim and assessing how and where to lay their rods. The one to her right made the first move again. His eyes were fixed on the middle of her chest. He drew back his arm and the wail grew in pitch as the rod swished forwards in a horizontal arc. The sound was of a loud but muffled 'smack' as the willow bit deep, deep into the centers of both breasts, bisecting the swollen aureoles. The flesh, though firmed by the swelling, retained sufficient softness that the full flesh again enveloped the thin rod as its force divided the breast meat on either side of it, the power being absorbed by the full flesh until its travel was halted by the rib cage beneath. The heavy, vulnerable gourds must surely split in half, thought many as they watched in awe. But they did not. The still resilient tissue sprang back into its former shape, pushing the willow away, the breasts shuddering and wobbling under the savage lash. Another gut-wrenching scream from the innocent girl's throat rent the air. A one inch stripe, a brighter red than the surrounding colour appeared across her breasts, interrupted by the cleft between them. Her right nipple had been struck a direct hit and was split further open. The previous seepage of blood became a slow steady, trickle, which ran down the underside of her breast and belly to further darken the ripped blouse hanging from her waist. Marie's whole body tensed again and she pulled and tugged fiercely at her bindings, the automatic reaction was to pull her arms down to protect her brutalised bosom but she only succeeded in straining the muscles in her arms and increasing the force on her bound wrists.

The monster to her left then took his turn, lashing his thin rod with his left arm again into the fullest parts of Marie's bosom. The left one took the majority of the energy of the stroke. The supple switch sunk deep into the flesh again, just below the nipple, its tip wrapping itself around the curve of the right one. THWACK! She shrieked in agony again.

"Wait!", shouted the officer. He approached the men. "More subtlety is required, gentlemen", he said calmly. He looked coldly at Marie's chest, pointing with his stubby finger. "I want the skin removed from the girl's breasts with these rods. Begin at the top and work downwards. I will tell you when to stop."

The completion of the command would require a good deal more skill but they were well versed in the use of all of these tools. They talked briefly with each other for a few moments in low tones which no-one present could hear, then the man who had been to the girl's right took up a position more directly in front of her while the other retired a few paces, to take no part for the time being. The torturer in front of Marie took a few seconds to evaluate his strategy, before raising his rod once more. This time, he sliced the weapon into the top of the left side of her left breast, but as the rod approached the flesh, he pulled it back slightly almost with a flick, instead of simply following through as before. It bit less deep this time, but instead, as the watchers could see as the rod fell away, drew a thin, horizontal line of blood some four inches in length along the side of the full flesh of her tit. He waited less time than previously before making the same stroke again, only this time a fraction of an inch below the previous lash. Another thin line of blood was drawn, just below the first. By the time the third open cut was visible, the spectators could see the pattern and the plan. The left end of the fourth, biting cut just touched the right edge of her wide left aureole, its right end cut into her flank where the side of her breast met her upper ribs.

The new strokes continued relentlessly downwards. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen were to the lower part of Marie's brutalised breast and above the last lash, the whole side was raw and bleeding. When the brute's lashes reached the lower part of the breast, he stopped for a moment, then moved to a position slightly further to Marie's right. Then he began the process again, this time lashing the willow rod across the front of her breast at the same height as the first lash to the left side. The girl's screams became higher pitched still as the lashes moved slowly downwards towards her ravaged nipple. The tenth and eleventh lashes bit into the dark aureole above her nipple. The next struck full into her tender bud itself and she shrieked out in indescribable pain as the skin was flayed from the erect nipple. She lapsed once more into merciful unconsciousness. The hooded man looked to his superior but this time received no sign to stop. He turned back to his task and made his next lash immediately below the limp girl's nipple. There was no response from the young woman as proceeded to complete the flaying of her left breast with six more biting strokes. It was strange to hear the 'THWACK' of each one striking the soft flesh without the agonized screams which normally followed. The punishment stopped and the courtyard was silent apart from the laboured breathing of the unconscious girl.

The spectators shuffled around in their seats, some murmuring quietly to one another, the tension having been alleviated for the moment. This was more brutal than even the more hardened of them had witnessed before.

Blood now oozed and seeped from many places on Marie's raw left breast. Most of the upper layer of epidermis had been stripped away by the scourging of the willow rod. The man who had been resting while his cohort carried out the last phase now fetched more water in a bucket from next to the courtyard wall. He brought it back and threw its contents over Marie's face and chest. The limp girl slowly regained her senses once again and as the pain and the reality of her terrible situation returned, she moaned and sobbed in terror and despair. As she looked at the rows of observers, their eyes still fixed on her, some seemed impassive to her agony and her plight; some, strangely looked sympathetic, even embarrassed to be there. She realized that she was still alive; that the nightmare was not over; that she would have to endure more. More agony, more mutilation - the humiliation had long become irrelevant. She recovered her balance and took the weight off her shoulders and wrists by standing once more on her toes. Could she summon some remaining strength, she thought, to continue and to die with some dignity? She was going to try, at least, she thought. In spite of the inhumanity of her executioners and their desire to destroy her pride and her womanhood.

"The cats once more!", ordered the officer. "Front and back, simultaneously", he added coldly.

The orders sapped her will. Oh God, she thought. How could she summon the wherewithal and the strength to salvage some dignity now. They were going to flog her tortured body again with these most savage of instruments. Her torn back, but worst of all, her front was to be torn to shreds now by the heaviest of their whips. It was unthinkable, impossible. At least now, she hoped, she would pass away in some minutes from the ferocity of the punishment to be free of this horror for ever. Marie prepared herself for the end. She would try, at least, to maintain some pride, summon some last vestiges of resistance. "Vive La France", she whispered quietly, "Give me strength".

The executioners had fetched their heavy cats o' nine tails and stood ready, the right handed of them at her rear, the left handed at her front. The whips hung heavy in their strong grips, the last seven or eight inches of their thick leather thongs lying on the paving stones of the courtyard. Marie had not been able to see them clearly before. they looked so evil, so black, so heavy. And now their power would be applied to her agonized breasts as well as her lacerated back. Despair, hopelessness enveloped her>

"Nooooooooooooooo!!!!", she wailed with her last ounces of energy, ashamed of her weakness. "Have mercy, I can't take more......I beg.....please.....please........."

Success gleamed in the officer's eyes, though his expression was unchanged. It was how he wanted it to be. There was to be no dignity for this enemy of the Third Reich He, too, knew this might well be the final phase.

"Proceed!", he commanded.

The brute to her rear was first to strike, the one who had, only minutes before, stripped the skin from her precious breast with the rod. He pulled the heavy thongs back over his right shoulder, then, with all his might, swung the savage whip forwards. There was a loud and ominous 'THWAP' as the thick leather strands made contact with Marie's bloody back, just below her shoulder blades. The ends curled around her right side and bit into her ribs. Her head flew back , her mouth opened wide and a scream of pain, albeit less strong than her earlier response, erupted from her throat. Some ten seconds elapsed and then there was the low 'SWISH' of the second torturer's cat flying through the dry, warm air. She opened her tear-filled eyes in time to see the terrible whip flying towards her tortured breasts. Her eyes closed tight. The leather thongs spread wide across the expanse of her tortured tits, biting deep, deep into the swollen and bleeding flesh, squashing and flattening the resilient masses against her chest in a way which no other substance known to man would react. For an instant, the flesh bulged out like a deformed balloon, above and below the six inch wide band of savage contact. And when the thongs fell away, the ravaged orbs shuddered and bounced wildly for some seconds such was the force of the blow. The agony of hell. This was the worst Marie's young body had yet endured. A gut wrenching wail of pure pain was emitted from her wide open mouth.

The same young female officer who been hiding her feelings of shock could not avoid letting out a small shriek of horror as the lash struck home but loud enough to be heard, even through Marie's scream, by the commanding officer. He glowered at the woman and she shrank back in fear doing her utmost to conceal her shock. Had he cats o'nine tails, in their history of use ever been used in such a sadistic and barbaric way before, she wondered. Applied with the full ferocity of a powerful man to the defenseless, tender breasts of any woman, let alone a girl not yet a score of years in age. Who could know. She could not even begin to imagine such torture applied to her own ample bosom. She had never in her life imagined such sadistic savagery and had never thought that this spectacle she had been tempted to witness could be so terrible. She silently prayed for the execution to reach it's conclusion quickly. Even as the thoughts ran through her mind, the second powerful lash struck the girl's back, lower this time, at the level of the kidneys. Its force propelled her forward, at least as far as her tight bonds would allow. Her back arched, her body stretched to the limits of her aching muscles and of the taught ropes which had held her immobile for last hour and a half, while her torturers had inflicted their barbaric punishment on her tender body. Another piercing screech of agony burst from her lips. They let another ten seconds passed until the scream had ebbed away and her body had become relatively static, before the next lash, to her front again was launched. To her front? It was merely code for the breasts, now enormous, perhaps half again as large as their former size, from the beating they had endured. Had she been smaller in the bust, perhaps they would have spread the lashes over her belly. But for Marie, the two targets were simply too obvious to be ignored, even once. And, too, they knew from her reactions that this was the way she suffered most. The nine coarse and heavy leather thongs smacked ferociously into the fullest part of her bosom. The force with which the executioner had swung the whip had kept the thongs closer together this time and the band of contact was narrower, some five or so inches broad. Accuracy was not a requirement with these tools; brute strength was all that was required. Both breasts were smashed, again, into her chest. It was too much for the vulnerable skin, stretched tight over the swollen right breast. The ravaged and tenderized skin split in a number of places. The dam burst and blood oozed freely from the multiple cuts. Marie screamed in pure agony as her blood flowed from her ruined breast and ran in rivulets down her belly. The hopelessness and inevitability of it all was as awful for her as the pain. Her chest heaved as she fought for breath after the long scream had ended. Could anyone imagine a scene so cruel and so sadistic? And for what reason? Because of her so called 'crime' against these people? Surely not, despite the earlier rhetoric. Because she was the enemy or a demonstration of power? Less likely still. For their pleasure, because of her innocence, her vulnerability, her youth? Maybe it was these things for some. She would never know, never understand.

Suddenly, as the executioner to her rear swung his whip back to impart the next lash, the sound of many motorised vehicles could be heard speeding towards the remote coachhouse. The man froze listening to the growing noise of the many engines. He lowered his cat o' nine tails and listened more as did all of those present. The officers in the audience turned to each other, agitated, and surprised. Moments later, seven armoured vehicles laden with SS troops roared into the courtyard, encircling the area where the execution was taking place. The soldiers, some thirty of them surrounded the shocked people, their arms at the ready. There was silence for a minute. A senior SS officer got out of the lead car, his lugar in hand, pointing at the officer who had leading the proceedings.

"This is utter barbarity, Hauptmann", he shouted, clearly familiar with the officer who now paled with horror. "It is completely illegal under our constitution and laws", he added. "You will all face court martial, and I will ensure you pay heavily for this atrocity." He beckoned to his men. "Untie the girl", he ordered, "And take her immediately to receive medical treatment." Four soldiers moved quickly to Marie and began to release her carefully from the frame.

He turned back to Hauptmann. "For your sake", he said, "She had better live. Otherwise it will be a firing squad for you." Hauptmann became whiter still, unable to summon words to respond.

"Arrest them all and take them back to headquarters in Paris. We will deal with them there", concluded the SS officer.

As the first car left with Marie for a hospital, the audience was rounded up at gunpoint to be taken to Paris for trial.

EPILOGUE

Marie did survive, physically , at least. Mentally, of course, she would never heal. All members of the audience that day were discharged dishonorably from service. Despite the fact that his innocent prisoner survived, Hauptmann was executed by firing squad a few days later, secretly and without fuss in a small wood on the outskirts of Paris.

THE END