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A young noblewoman, Catherine was heiress to the rich Earldom of Hampstont. Sir Mordus, her evil uncle, showed scant respect for the poor girl during her father’s fatal illness, harassing her sexually day and night. Catherine rejected her uncle’s advances until her father died. Then, to her despair, she realized that the evil Sir Mordus already ruled the Castle she was supposed to inherit…

posted Feb 20th, 2003
The whipping and rape of Catherine

Sir Mordus walked in the chamber, grinning. “Now, my dear Catherine,” he said slowly and deliberately. “Your body is beautiful. Your breasts are young and firm. There is no need for you to be shy in the presence of men! On the contrary, you must show us your treasures. Take your clothes off, my Lady! All of them. Here are your new clothes.”

Catherine stood up and looked in horror at the flimsy clothes her uncle was holding. They would reveal more than they covered. She did not move. “You really are shy, I see,” said Sir Mordus. “I would not wish to offend female delicacy, so I shall leave. You may change alone. I shall send for you shortly. Be sure to make yourself beautiful, Catherine. There will be others waiting to see you. Be sure you wear nothing under this dress.” He walked slowly out of the chamber, smiling.

Catherine looked in dismay at the small, transparent dress. She felt a rush of blood to her cheeks. But there was no choice. She took a deep breath and reluctantly began to remove her dress and underwear. She put the new dress on. It was horrendous! It made her feel more naked than she really was.

After a few minutes two soldiers arrived. They stood staring at her. There was no sign of a grin this time. Their eyes were fixed, obsessively, on her breasts and thighs, as if she was the first woman they had seen. They took her by the arms and led her out to the courtyard.

She gasped as she stepped out. The courtyard was full of soldiers, dozens of soldiers, and there were more on the walls of the castle! They fell silent for a moment when she appeared, and then the first obscene comments came…

“Jesus Christ, give me a big mouthful of them there tits, girl!”

“Get those clothes off, you big cunt! Let’s see how hairy you are!”

“Turn her round, Robert! Let’s see her hind quarters!”

“Is your cunt good and oily, girl? It’d better be, for your sake!”

Catherine flushed again. How could he do this to her? Her own uncle!

Sir Mordus rose from his chair and addressed his niece. “My dear, you look absolutely magnificent in these clothes. They belonged to an Arab noblewoman we took during a crusade in the Holy Land… She too was stubborn. But she learnt to be generous with her body. My men will vouch for that!” There was a general murmur of consent. “Infidel cunt is sweet and tasty, isn’t that right, men?” Cries of approval rose.

“There is much pleasure to be had from your young body, Catherine. You must learn to be generous, for everybody’s sake, especially your own!”

“You can shame me and threaten me as much you want, but I will never share your bed!” Catherine shouted defiantly. There was a tremor in her voice, she realized. Sir Mordus’s base words had opened the door to hell itself and had struck fear into her heart.

“You are my guest, Catherine. My guests always end up sharing all they have with me. Soon you will be on your knees, begging me to take you to my chamber…” There was a hard edge in his voice now that chilled her blood.

“Take her to the whipping post! We will see how well our noble guest taunts and provokes us by moving her body. She will dance for us! Her breasts will dance, her bottom will dance!”

Catherine is pulled to the nearby post and her magnificent breasts are rudely pressed against the rough wood. Iron shackles close on her slender wrists and fix her arms over her head. Her eyes close as she tries to gather strength to be strong enough for the whip. She feels her breath coming fast now. She cannot imagine what a whip feels like…

Suddenly she jumps as a rough hand strikes her naked back and another lifts her chin. “What soft skin this noblewoman has, to be sure. Made to be flogged, I would say!” Sir Mordus brings his face close to hers. His breath smells. She turns her head away in disgust.

Sir Mordus laughs and turns to another man dressed in a tunic. His right arm hangs heavily. He is holding a long bullwhip…

“Twenty strokes will be enough for the beginning. Make her scream and dance, make her lift her tits for us, but don’t kill her!”

“Aye, My Lord!” Catherine no longer hears anything. Her whole being is focused on the horrendous long whip. She had expected a flogging with short flails. She had seen it in the marketplace when thieves were punished. She thought this she could stand such a flogging. But the bullwhip? No, that was different… Does Mordus want to kill her? Whip her to death? She wants to cry out from fear, and presses her face against the beam. She will try to hide her fear and her tears from the common soldiery.

The torturer pulls his right arm back. There is a long swiiiiish as the whip cuts through the silent air, then the soldiers shout “ONE!”

Catherine’s back explodes as the skin is shredded off it. She lifts her head and screams, a terrible cry that rings and echoes round the castle walls. There is no thought of bravery or shame any more, only pain as her lovely body convulses and her full young breasts quiver before the soldiers’ hungry eyes…





A desperate, long scream that seems hardly human. Is this really Lady Catherine, screaming and baying like wounded deer?





Catherine no longer has any control over her body. Caked in sweat, her back shining as the sweat and blood run down it, she kicks out like a horse. Her cries and screams fill the courtyard, vying with the laughing, mocking chants of the crowd.




Long red weals cover her back from shoulder to waist now, but the blood too is controlled. Her torturer knows how apply maximum pain without weakening his victim too soon. Catherine’s whole body is trembling, her limbs are twitching, she hardly has enough breath to scream…




Her fingernails crack, bloody from desperately scratching on the wood. “Please, please stop!”

Her pleas are too low to be heard under the terrible crack of the whip and the excited chanting of the soldiers. At times she thinks she is going to faint, but the incredible pain as the whip hits her tortured back, calls her back to a cruel reality…



There comes a last agonized scream…






Silence. Then finally darkness comes, but only for a moment. Her legs cannot hold her weight anymore; she dangles, held by the chains. Unfortunately for her, she recovers consciousness. The world has changed, no one and nothing is out there, she is alone with her pain…



Silence. There are no more screams.

“Stop now, that is enough!” When she opens her tearstained eyes, she looks into her uncle’s grinning face. His right hand presses her cheeks, while his left caresses the welts on her back, that feels on fire. “Now, my dear Lady Catherine, are you still so sure that there is nothing worse in the world than to share a bed with me?”

“You…bastard!” she mumbles weakly. She shudders and trembles and tries to turn away her face, but he is holding it firmly…

“Your last chance… because you are so cute, and because I’m your uncle, I’ll ask you one last time. Do you prefer my soft bed to the rough whipping post? Think carefully before you speak.” His fingernails scratch along the welts on her back and she groans in pain…

Gathering all her remaining strength, she spits in his face. “Here’s your answer! Now you can kill me, if you want!”

His eyes flash in anger. “Kill you? Oh no, not now; it would be a waste, to kill a pretty niece like you without having fun with her first. You had your choice, my dear. You cannot complain now when you take the consequences.” He wipes the spit from his face and turns to the soldiers.

“You two,” he says, pointing to two soldiers, “come and hold her legs. See if some fresh air in her pussy will clear her head!”

Still isolated in her own world of exhaustion and pain, Catherine tries to get away from the exploring hands as they run over the thin cloth covering her buttocks.

The soldiers turn her quickly, placing her bleeding back against the wood, and lift her. They hold her legs wide apart, exposing her most intimate parts to the gaze of all the soldiers…

Catherine raises her head. Sir Mordus is standing in front of her, grinning, and playing with his huge cock.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!” She struggles to close her legs, but the grinning soldiers are too strong for her. Of course she had been fearing this since the death of her father, trembling in fear each time the door to her chambers opened. She had never imagined anything so cruel, so public, with so many men staring at what no man had ever seen before…

“Please spare my honor, Uncle. And remember your own!”

He just laughs. “Don’t worry, all these brave men here know a cock and a cunt when they see one. They also know how to use them! They will show you, when I’ve finished with you!”

She stares at Mordus in shock and disbelief, as he stands between her open legs. He works his cock into her open sex lips and then with one hard, cruel push he penetrates her. His huge cock sinks into her still virgin pussy, making her cry and scream out loud in shame and pain. He shreds her hymen with a contented, excited grunt. She tries to move away, away from this hot pulsating thing inside her, away from his hands pressing on her breasts, his hairy face rubbing on her cheeks…

“You made your choice,” he says, “and I must say, it is a good one. Better this any day than boring bedroom games!” He looks down to where a small ripple of blood is running along his cock. “And I’m very pleased that you were decent enough to preserve your virginity for your uncle!”

Groaning and moaning, he moves forward and backward, fucking her brutally to the accompaniment of rhythmic clapping from the surrounding soldiers.


“STOP! NOOOOOOO, PLEASE!!!” Catherine’s cries, but her uncle’s cock thumps harder and harder into her, until finally he throws back his head and goes into a huge orgasm, sinking forward and filling her pussy with a stream of hot semen as he groans and grunts his way into oblivion…

The soldiers cheer.

When he recovers, he pulls his cock back, lifts her head and grins into her tear-stained face…

“A great fuck, my dear niece, but now it’s time to say good bye!”

Catherine sobs, her body twitching in pain, and she closes her eyes.

“You have got what you wanted, ” she murmurs sobbing. “Now grant me an honorable death at least.”

He laughs. “Oh Catherine, you have a cruel mind. How can you excite all these men here so much, and then leave them? Show some mercy, my Lady. They need you now very urgently!”

He turns to his men. “She is all yours. But remember, she will give you little pleasure if she dies!”

Sadistic Crucifixion

Released from the chains, Catherine is pulled and pushed to another corner of the courtyard, rough hands exploring her everywhere… She is numb, a rag doll in the hands of the soldiers. She stumbles and falls several times, before they reach the sinister wooden construction. Two beams like the whipping beam, a wooden plank, ropes and nails… Before she realizes what is happening, she is pressed down onto the plank on her back, and her right wrist is bound to it with ropes.

Catherine struggles and kicks, but the soldiers are too strong. They press her down, and more ropes around her left wrist leave her helpless.

She gazes at her torturer as he places the tip of a huge nail in her right palm. She cannot believe that he will do it, but the first blow by the hammer leaves her in do doubt. The torturer drives the nail through her hand, shredding skin and flesh, tearing tendons and splintering bones before sinking deep into the wooden beam.


Her animal scream rings round the courtyard as she twists and pulls with all her might. The ropes hold her firmly to the plank, and now the torturer drives the nail in until its head touches her palm. Each blow sends a new wave of pain through her arm, the nerves are burning, and the instinctive attempts to move her hand only increase the pain…

Catherine stares at the bloody mess of her right hand. She cannot believe it, but the pain tells her that she really is nailed to the wood. Her hand looks like a blood-covered claw, and the fingers are numb and do not respond. She barely feels the hand of the torturer caressing her cheeks, and hears nothing of what he says. She feels only the nail. There is something final about a nail. Ropes or shackles can be removed or loosened, but Catherine feels this nail as part of her. Hers, until the day she dies. At this moment, she wants nothing more than that.

Feeling the metal on her left palm, she turns her head.

“Why, ” she murmurs sobbing in low voice, “why are you doing this to me?” Cruel male laughter is the only response… and then comes another blow with the hammer, making her body convulse again. She screams. Her upper arms spasm, her lungs are burning, and she tastes blood in her mouth where she has bitten her tongue. She coughs. Her stomach feels like it is being pressed by a giant fist. She cannot be sick, but a bitter liquid fills her mouth and oozes from her trembling lips, running onto her sweat-covered chin.

Was it only some minutes before that she was sure that the worst was over, that she could take the torture like the noblewoman she was? The nail taught her better, and now she is begging to realize that even this is not the worst. They really do want to crucify her, and God knows what other cruel sexual torments this wild crowd is capable of…

She no longer remembers her embarrassment, her shame, her humiliation at being naked. She knows only pain. And suddenly she is lifted upwards, and the other end of a plank is attached. She screams, cries and kicks out, twists and turns in a soldier’s grip… Her whole body goes into a spasm until finally she sinks down, too exhausted to move. She is not really herself now, she is in another world, alone with her pain, as she hangs crucified. The weight of her body makes the holes in her hands bigger. And she understands that the ropes around her wrist are there to provide extra support to prevent the nails from tearing her hands apart…

Her dangling feet find the wooden triangle below, and with sigh of relief she tries to stand, taking the weight off her tortured arms. But relief is short. Strong hands grab her legs, spreading them wide, and hold her right foot against the wood. With wide open eyes she follows the path of the hammer until it hits the nail…

Another blood-chilling scream. A pain even worse than before, or is the new pain always worse? Catherine feels warm damp on her inner thighs. She is wetting herself, she knows…

A soldier looks up into her open vagina.

“Good stuff, that! Been in a good place, that has!”

“You’d rather have that than good ale, you dirty old sod, eh?”

The others laugh…

“STOP! NOOOOOOOOOO!!! Please stop! AAAGHHHHHHHH! Stop, Uncle, I’ll … do whatever you want!”

Catherine does not really know what her mouth is screaming and shouting. Her hands twist around the nail. Blood drips onto the men below.

Instinctively she wants to move her leg away, but the grip of men and the nail keeps her foot firmly in place, and no matter how much she struggles, she has no way of avoiding the blows that drive the nail deep into the wood, fixing her right leg.

She does not even realize that her left foot is also being nailed down.

She struggles and fights until all the strength has left her tortured body.

She sinks back, covered by cold sweat, freezing and sweating at the same time, all her muscles trembling and convulsing…

Her head falls onto her chest, and saliva dribbles slowly from her half-open mouth.

“And now for the REAL whipping!” Catherine hears a voice from somewhere below and opens her eyes. Through her pain and tears she sees the torturer’s grinning face. His chest arms and faces are covered with spots of blood, her blood! She shudders. Suddenly she is aware once more that she is nearly naked, and that her legs are spread wide apart… She gains new anger and strength as she looks down at the soldiers who are gazing into her dishonored vagina…

She lifts her head and looks at them. She opens her mouth to speak, and a sudden silence falls…

“May the devil take your souls for all eternity!”

This time there is no reply from the soldiers.

Her new-found strength has restored her pride. These bastards can torture and abuse her body, but they will not take away her dignity! She closes her eyes looking for a prayer that will give her enough strength to withstand the torture to come…

“YOU are in hell, you big cunt, not me!” says a soldier. “I’m in heaven right now, looking at your big fat pussy!” Other soldiers cheer.

Catherine turns her head, to find her uncle some yards away, sitting in a comfortable chair and holding a goblet. He takes a sip and raises the goblet scornfully towards her, saying something that makes the soldiers laugh. How she hates him! She would gladly kill him if she could…



The whip again!

It hits her thigh and makes her forget everything else. The torturer has brought it down with all his strength, shredding the thin cloth, bursting the skin open, leaving a bleeding line of raw flesh. She cannot avoid a convulsion. A new wave of pain surges through her body from her destroyed nerves and smashed bones…

This time the torturer takes up position, gazing down into her open pussy. He turns the whip round and lifts the heavy handle… He brings it down with all his might onto her open sex lips…

“Give it to her, lad, show her what hell is!”

Blow after blow follows, making her writhe and twist…

He turns the whip round and begins whipping her once more. Breasts, buttocks, belly, thighs, every part of her body are mercilessly whipped…

Bleeding welts and stripes cover her body…

Her dress is no more than bloodstained rags…

Her body is no more than a mass of pain, from head to feet…

The torturer continues, his eyes wild and staring now, his jaw hanging loose, strands of wet hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead.

Catherine cannot think anymore. She cannot beg or plead or pray for mercy.

She can only twist and turn under the cruel whiplashes.

Finally, mercifully, a sweet darkness comes over her. She sags, her head falls onto her chest, and she drifts into oblivion…

The torturer stops.

He rubs her pussy with the handle of his whip, but there is no reaction. Is she dead already? He does not want that. He knows the men will not be pleased. Sometimes it is hard to control yourself…

He raises her dangling head. Her eyelids flutter. Her breasts rise and fall slightly…

“There’ll be no free beer for you this week if she’s gone,” says a soldier.

“Don’t worry,” he shouts down. “She’s still alive! All she needs is a rest. She’ll be as good as new in no time at all. Get your dicks ready, men, there’s work for them here!”

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