Erica in the hands of The Inquisition

Here's to you, Erica. I hope you will enjoy it.

It could have been just because she needed a rest from the sunny hot weather outside that Erica ended up in the museum. Actually she had never been there before. Yet she soon realized that she had come there for a purpose. Yes, she was destined to discover that very special painting which was displayed in one of the smaller rooms dedicated to more obscure artists.It was a huge colour painting done in a style which reminded Erica of the wellknown Dutch masters like Rembrandt and others. Not only were every detail extremely realistic but ther was a certain luster over the painting which created a very special athmosphere. The name of the artist meant nothing to her but she was mesmerized by the scene depicted. It was the interior of a torture chamber with many sinister looking devices and several men dressed in brown robes, brandishing whips. Another man was sitting behind a desk, taking notes. Everybody seemed to be waiting for something. Suddenly Erica realized what was missing in the painting. The victim of the Inquisition. Everything was ready to go but for some reason the artist had chosen to let the spectators’ fantasy visualize what would later happen as their helpless victim would be dragged into this chamber of horror to be made to confess anything the cruel men wanted to. Erica was so attracted by the scene that she didn’t realize how time was flying away and when suddenly a male voice alerted her that it was closing time she knew she couldn’t leave. She slowly walked towards the exit with the sound of her high heels echoing between the stone walls. As the guard disappeared around the corner into another room she opened the entrance door and then shut it loudly, then swiftly took off her shoes and went tiptoeing back towards the room with that very special painting. She looked for a place to hide and as luck would have it she found an open door to a small stockroom. Erica quickly slid in and hid behind a big cupboard. She waited in awe hardly daring to breathe. Suddenly the door slammed tight and a key turned in the lock.

Fortunately the door could be opened from inside which Erica had noticed when she jumped into her hiding place.She waited for what seemed like hours and then slowly walked out of the stockroom. Before doing anything else she lit a cigarette and hope that there would be no smoke detectors around. She blowed puffs of smoke in various directions and the purpose of this was to detect any infra red light rays which might be connected to an alarm. She discovered two such rays but her passage to the exit from the room with the special painting was safe. Erica started walking slowly towards the painting and feeling of the cold stone floor under her bare feet made her shiver with excitement. Soon she was standing in the dark before the painting and she could feel a sense of lust and excitement building up within her. She realized that the victim would soon be in place, that the door to the other side had been opened for her and that there would be no turning back. She closed her eyes, concentrating, visualizing, praying.

All of a sudden she felt a chilling wind caressing her bare skin and she realized that she was kneeling on the stone floor, totally naked. Her long silky blonde hair was held in a firm grip so that her head was pushed back. She dared not raise her eyes at the man who spoke to her.- Are you at this time prepared to confess the sin of blasphemy, the dark voice thundered. As she did not answer, the next thing she knew was a searing pain shock that made her lose her breath. She felt like thousands of red hot needles had been pressed into her back and her screams were silenced by several hard slaps across her face. She could feel blood trickling down her back and she caught a brief glimpse of the heavy scourge that was being used on her. Each lash had hundreds of small spikes imbedded and this ferocious torture instrument would leave several deep bleeding wounds on impact. It could easily cut her flesh to shreds. The question was asked again without an answer. The whip again. Erica thought she could take it no more. If this was a dream it was certainly the most realistic dream she had ever experienced. The scourge bit into her back, buttocks and thighs again and again opening up many new bleeding wounds and the pain was simply excrutiating. Yet she realized that she would not confess. It was important that she did not confess no matter if they whipped the life out of her.

Suddenly the torturers decided to try something else. A man walked slowly towards her holding two heavy metal, egg-formed objects. They were obviously very hot as he shifted them from hand to hand all the time. The eggs were pressed into the poor girl’s armpits and then her arms were strapped tightly to her body. Erica’s desperate screams of pain drowned every other sound and the pain as the hot metal burnt into her flesh was simply too much. Erica passed out.

As she came to she was bent over a bench, tightly chained to it in a position which left her wide open from assaults from behind. One of her tortures put a metal device into her mouth, something known as a torture pear. When turning a screw the object expanded within her mouth until her jaws were on the brink of being dislocated. She felt a hard grip on her hips and next an unknown man was furiously battering away at her tight anus in order to sodomize her. Finally he succeeded to break through the tight puckered passage between her lacerated buttocks and he did it so hard that Erica split up and started to bleed. The pain was so intense that she almost passed out again as his masterful manhood pumped so deep into her that his heavy balls smacked against her buttocks. As he roared from savage lust and shot load after load of his gism into her ravaged hole, Erica could feel another man taking his place and starting to use her now wide open passage. Her ordeal never seemed to end, as if there was a long line of men standing and waiting for their turn to use her. Everybody wanted to use her anally and Erica was certain that her rectum would be damaged forever.

As the torture pear was removed it was now time for Erica to use her mouth to satisfy her torturers in the best way she could. She had no doubt that they were capable of anything so she simply didn’t dare to disobey. Erica was made kneeling on the floor as she took one huge erected cock after another in her mouth and every time they shot their load into her they held her head tight to ensure that she swallowed it all. When everybody had used her for what felt like hours, a huge brute of a man held her arms behind her and by the grip of her hair forced her head backwards so that her breasts stuck out. Sofar they had been saved from torture but that was now to change. The man in front of her was brandishing a long, whippy bamboo cane and he struck it hard against a hardwood table so the cane split. Then he dipped the splintered cane into a bucket of salt solution and raised the now dangerous weapon over his head. Splintered bamboo cuts very deep and his target was Erica’s tender breasts. Already after three strokes both her breasts were totally covered in blood and the poor girl passed out again.

When Erica woke up she was lying in her bed, spread-eagled, masturbating. Yes, she had obviously been masturbating in her sleep and kept on coming again again. But the fantastic thing about this dream was that she could actually feel the pain. Her entire body was on fire and she was so week that she could hardly move. Her armpits hurt excrutiatingly and to her horror she could see vivid red branding marks from the hot iron eggs. She managed to get up and into the bathroom. She gasped from the shock when she saw all scars on her body from the scourge. Her back, buttocks and thighs were covered by scars and wounds, as were her breasts. Especially her breasts had very deep, painful scars although they had stopped bleeding. Her anus felt like a red hot iron bar had been showed into her.Erica fell to the floor, totally unable to understand what had happened to her – or if it had really happened at all. But the pain and the marks on her body were as good proof as any and sweet Erica knew that she had to be back at the museum again very soon.