V
Only the sounds of the women and the occasional crackling of lit torches filled
the torture chamber, with the various slurping noises played in concert to heavy
breathing being the most pronounced. The gathered assemblage of men played a
silent audience to the dungeon scene until the corpulent bishop shuffled his
slippers and spoke quietly to Julius the Sweet who stood next to him.
"Why you old perve, you. Two bitches in heat not good enough, huh? Still,"
Julius considered as he stepped closer to where the women were, "you might have
a good point about the Passion Play...
Girls? Excuse me, girls? The goodly friar here has reminded me that we do have
something of a schedule. I am afraid that you two will have to stop what you're
doing as the Scourging must begin."
Zeema protested as Galluble was pulled out from under her. She had been ready
to cross that 'edge' and now it was all to be denied. What cruelness, she
thought.
The Scribe retrieved her writing materials and turned back to face the center
of the chamber. Brazenly, she left the torn front of her costume hang partially
exposing her breasts. Doing Zeema had made her hot. She no longer cared what the
rascally males could see. She looked instead back at Zeema's bent form and the
smouldering azure eyes lidded with desire as they returned her stare.
"This is our executioner, Zeema. He will now scourge you. See what he carries?"
The half-naked man held up a stout bar before his barrel chest. From it dangled
three strips of leather, each strip ending in sharp bits of bone. Julius the
Sweet Grabbed Zeema's hair again and pulled her head up so that she could see
the torture weapon held before her face.
"They say it can rip away thick hide. Hmm..." Julius stroked his goatee as if
sincerely concentrating. "Wonder what effect such brutality can have against
your tender skin. Let's see, shall we?" He stepped back and motioned for the
executioner to station himself to Zeema's right flank and begin.
The Scribe flinched as the first blows rain down upon her lover's bare back. At
first, she held her quill suspended in mid-air. The action was riveting. Red
lines appeared over Zeema's lower back, just above where her hips began to
swell. The lashes made a drumming sound as they struck the lower back. She
checked on Zeema's face but saw only firm determination by the closed eyes and
clenched jaw.
The second series struck lower. The Scribe began to write as the lashes
whistled through the stagnant air. More lines appeared over Zeema's ass.
The executioner was already sweating heavily, but he must know something about
his craft. More blows rained across the backs of thighs. He wiped his face and
swung again, this time crossing earlier lines. The victim had been silent until
now, he thought as he swung again, crossing over more previous welts. He spotted
shiny drops of crimson begin to bubble. It was time to cross over to the other
side.
Galluble gasped as she heard each scourge swing, but she continued to document
the event especially noting that Zeema had bravely not uttered a sound and
remained on her legs. Her face was sweating, though, and her breathing was
clearly labored. Galluble did not know how much more Zeema could stand. Already
lines of blood slid from her torn back.
"Release her from those chains."
"Do you think that wise, your Excellency? The condemned might try and escape."
"Escape to where, bishop?" Julius tore his eyes from the stricken female to
answer. "With her on the floor our man here," he indicated with his ringed thumb
the executioner, "will have better access to her upper back. Besides...I have a
plan."
With the tension holding her arms up high released, Zeema dropped to the floor.
Arduously, she used her arms to prop her upper body up until only her waist and
legs lay on the stone surface.
"Watch this..." Julius the Sweet shoved aside the executioner and stood before
Zeema's lifted head. He bent lower to her and said, "Zeema...Defiant One...One
who would be a warrior princess..." He worked the room smiling at the other
men's reactions. "I want you to lick my boots."
Zeema panted as she lay in pain. The scourging had been tough to take so far,
but she knew it was only beginning. Her head spun. Agony already almost clouded
all of her thinking. She arced her back a little more, croaked to the owner of
the two boots in front of her and said, "No way...pppig."
The response sapped the strength from her arms and her chest fell to the floor
as the next lashes ripped into her shoulders. The hard coolness of the floor
offered some relief. Her legs tried to move but could not. Zeema almost gasped
out loud as the next flurry hit. She lay prostrate as more blows rained down on
her. The throbbing continued long after she realized that the scourging had
stopped.
Galluble looked at her lover's torn body as hands pulled her to her feet and
then chained her wrists overhead. The one who had first taught her that many men
and women respect powerful females hung before her. All of the talk about 16th
century Spanish poets, "Psychomachia", goddesses, costume rentals, all of that
now hung chained by...men. She set her tablet on a nearby wooden rack and walked
up to the taller woman. Nervously, Galluble tossled her Tomboy hair cut and
peered into Zeema's eyes. Holding her cheeks in her hand, she kissed the warrior
princess fully on the mouth, then stepped back and swung with all of her might.
Zeema was most hurt by the shocking slap across her cheek. Her eyes burned and
blinked. Galluble stood for a moment facing her, then turned and walked back to
the rack. The next face that Zeema saw was the evil face of her executioner. She
braced for the same tearing of her back to begin on her front.
