



     I'm sure that by now you're sick and tired of all these smug
little notices authors of S&M and non-consensual sex stories have
been putting at the top of their files. But just in case you
aren't, here's another one:




                  WARNING!  WARNING!  WARNING!

         THIS STORY CONTAINS S&M AND NON-CONSENSUAL SEX
        IF YOU DON"T LIKE THIS SHIT, THEN DON'T READ IT!

                         END OF WARNING

                           Nola19.txt
                        "The Inquisition"
                         "By Curt Strap"

                            Foreword

     The cruel power of the Inquisition, whose bondage and
suffering and tortures went on in secrecy behind the gray
cloistered walls of the great monasteries in Toledo and Madrid, was
not limited alone to heretics. Often noblemen of power and wealth
conspired with the black and gray robed monks to wreak their own
personal vengeance on helpless men and boys, women and girls,
punishing enemies in the name of the Church and paying money to the
Inquisition to be permitted to pose as inquisitors and torturers.
My story is of such a case, in the year 1492, and it illustrates
this policy.                            Chapter 1

     "We are agreed, then, Friar Bartholomew," the short, fat Conde
de Castlemar eyed the black-robed monk as he tossed a purse on the
table. "Besides, she is suspect. Since the death of her parents,
she has ignored the order of the King to accept me as her guardian,
that her estates may be under the proper and rightful protection of
the Crown. Moreover, as I have told you, she is a brazen child who,
though a daughter of nobility, may have committed more grievous
sins. 
     "I hear you, my son." The fat friar untied the strings of the
velvet purse and let the golden doubloons clink out onto the table,
his eyes glistening with greed and lust. "The charge is serious.
And since you are witness to the sins of which you accuse her to
the Holy Inquisition, then it is only just that you be her
interrogator as well." The fat monk grinned crudely. "I, of course
shall witness the interrogation."
     The Conde de Castlemar smiled and inclined his head in a token
of reverence, his fat lips curving in a cruel rictus of
anticipation. Sixty-five years of age, heir of one of Spain's
oldest families, he had tossed away his family's entire fortune on
gambling, women, fine wines and costly clothing for his own
pleasure. Nola de Curbada, the cute auburn haired 12 year-old
daughter of the late Don Pedro de Curbada and his saintly wife,
Nola, had been left a fabulously rich estate. He had suggested to
her that he take over responsibility for her but she had
indignantly rejected him, for she was aware of his lecherous
reputation and his interest in young girls. Yet his power at court
was such that the King had ordered Nola to consider no other
guardian; yet the virginal young girl had dared to denounce the
Conde and to ask her sovereign's permission to enter a convent. 
     She could not know her danger when, last week, she had angrily
told the perverted nobleman that she would never consent to
request. That statement was to plunge her into the darkest dungeon
of the Inquisition, to hurl her down from her gentle childhood and
make her a slave tyrannized by bondage and indescribable torment,
until she would tearfully offer to become the Conde's ward in
return for remission from interrogation.
     Little guessing what lay in store for her, cute Nola studied
herself in a gilded mirror. Five feet two inches in height, with
huge dark-green eyes, a wilful, ripe mouth with haughty upper lip,
a determined, firm chin and a pale-ivory complexion that was the
envy of other girls, Nola was very desirable. 
     Her auburn hair was swept back from her forehead and dressed
high on top of her head in an imposing pompadour. Around her neck
was a chain of gold links supporting a plain gold cross. Her gown
was white satin, with a tight full bodice which showed no evidence
of developing breasts, high at the neck and long in the sleeves, it
spread into the deep pleats of the wide flaring skirt which
scarcely revealed the toes of her white slippers. Under that gown,
she wore three petticoats, under which was a chemise, knee-length
white silk underwear and white silk stockings. The bodice was
removable just under the gown. Yet all this finery could not hide
the delicious, provocative beauty of her girlish figure, nor the
slim girlish waist which flared into curved vibrant hips, saucy
rounded buttocks creased by a deep shadowy groove which broadened
as it reached the base of her thighs.
     Her companion, Isabella; 37, brown-haired, round face, blue
eyes, small ripe mouth, Grecian nose, widely spaced pear-shaped,
full breasts, sumptuous buttocks, full ripe thighs and sturdy,
curvaceous calves; had been wed at the age of fifteen and widowed
eighteen months later when her husband, Nola's second cousin, had
been killed in a duel. Nola's parents, realizing that Isabella was
left penniless, had taken her into their lavish mansions and when
Nola was ten, had made her their daughter's companion. And because
she, too, had dared show her distastes for the Conde, she was
destined to share Nola's agonies.
                              * * *
     A frightened servant hurried into the bedroom, stammering,
"Oh, Nola, Isabella, it's the Inquisition-they have come for you-"
     And an hour later, horrified, stupefied with terror, both the
young woman and the girl found themselves being led by the wrists,
each by two black-robed monks into one of the nameless dungeons in
the subterranean section of the gray-walled monastery; found
themselves standing in shadows, while, at the back of the dungeon,
each seated at a pulpit, were two cowled monks. A lighted candle
flickered at each pulpit augmenting the eerie fear which had seized
the captives who found themselves in the dreaded hands of the Holy
Inquisition!                            Chapter 2

     "Why have we been brought here? What have we done?" the
courageous child indignantly demanded.
     Her eyes shifted from the cowled friar behind the pulpit to
her left, then to the one at her right; he wore a black mask over
his face and the short black pointed beard made him still more
sinister, like the Evil One himself; despite herself, she shivered,
for Isabella had told her of many terrible disappearances and the
'auto-da-fes' which took place after a person she knew had been
brought before the Inquisition. 
     "My child," the monk at her left was first to speak. "I see
that you wear the cross of righteousness, and it is my prayer that
your soul will be found as spotless as that symbol. Resolve, then,
to speak the truth, for we have ways of finding out when deception
and lies and cunning are tendered to us instead of honesty."
     "But, please, of what am I accused! I am the daughter of.."
Nola began. 
     "We know. Once again, I advise you to submit yourself to the
wisdom of you spiritual advisers, for the good of your soul. First,
it will be your companion whom we question."
     "But I've done nothing, I swear it." Isabella hysterically
cried out, trembling as her two fat guards stood on either side of
her, holding her arms.
          "As companion to this child, you are familiar with her
habits, her conduct, her views. She stands accused of impiety
towards her sovereign, and, thus, guilty of treasonable conduct in
the eyes of the Church, since the King is the temporal defender of
Mother Church."
     "But that's stupid! Nola is devout, chaste, obedient--"
     "Take care, woman," the gaunt friar at the left warned her.
"Again, I ask you to tell us what you know of your charge, what
have you heard her say against His Most Catholic Majesty."
     "Why-why, only that she does not wish to have the Conde for
her legal guardian, she cannot understand why it should be of royal
concern."
     "You are devious with us, Isabella. This will not do. I have
no other recourse but to turn you over to the officers of the
prison, so that they may question you."
     He waved his hand, and the two robed men holding her wrists
nodded, then began to drag her towards the middle of the dungeon,
where the dreadful apparatuses of the 'question' awaited the
helpless prey of the Inquisition. Nola, in terror, cried out, "oh
it is unworthy-"
     "That last remark," the gaunt friar at the left turned to his
masked, beaded companion, "It is surely suspect implying that His
Majesty would behave other than as a wise and righteous king."
     "It is so noted," the masked monk solemnly declared, and Nola
shivered at the malevolence of his tone, at the long steady
disgusting look his dark eyes sent her through the slits of the
mask.     
     
     Isabella, panting, sobbing, was struggling with her jailers;
the four men who had brought her and Nola to the dungeon were not
priests, though garbed as monks; rather, they were the torturers of
the prison. The inquisition did not stain its hands with blood;
thus the temporal acts of torment were carried out by civil
authorities. 
     "Once again, woman, will you confess to what you have heard
this young girl say against the King and the Church?" the friar
harassed the terrified, sobbing woman. 
     "But I swear she's said or done nothing wrong, any more than
I, Father! In the name of pity, I am a helpless woman and she is a
helpless child, innocent of any wrongdoing."
     "Please, I beg.." Nola cried out, wrenching at her captive
wrists.
     "Let her be gagged until we are ready to hear her testimony,"
the masked, fat bearded monk coldly interposed. 
     Nola cried out, but instantly one of the robed men holding
her wrists drew a choke-pear gag from the pocket of his robe and
brutally forced it into her mouth; then both men dragged the child
towards a round stone column, forced her arms behind her and around
it and corded her slim wrists tightly. Eyes huge and wet with tears
of shame and terror, Nola was obliged to watch the degradation and
bondage of Isabella. 
     Despite her screams, prayers and struggles, the two torturers
began to prepare Isabella for the 'question'. Ripping off her long-
skirted gown, they next removed her white bodice, then the two lacy
petticoats, leaving her in her chemise, underwear, stockings and
slippers. 
     "How shall we begin, your Worship?" the gross, bald robed
torturer who had ripped off her dress respectfully asked of the
leering friar at the pulpit.
     "For her impertinence, she merits corporal chastisement. Let
it be done with the birch. Begin with a dozen over her underwear;
if that does not suffice, strip her bare and apply a second dozen,"
the friar decreed. 
     "Oh nooo-oh God, not before men-mercy, don't whip me-I've done
nothing, nor has Nola-pity on a helpless woman-" Isabella wailed.
     Chuckling with cruel anticipation, both men now ripped away
her chemise, baring her to the waistband of her underwear, exposing
her big, breasts, which heaved violently in her shame and agitated
fright. Isabella burst into hysterical tears and tried to drag her
wrists free to cover her naked breasts with her hands. Her two
torturers forced her over the whipping bench and swiftly tethered
her wrists and ankles to the legs of the bench, which had a wooden
triangle fixed just under her belly. When they had finished tying
her, she was presented in the most obscene and demeaning pose,
vulnerable to the kisses of the birch rods which stood steeping in
a bucket of brine. The cheeks of her buttocks jutted lewdly against
the skintight underwear which threatened to split, owing to the
exaggerated tension brought about by the triangle. With her wrists
and ankles cruelly tied by cord, all of her mature body was
stressed and tractioned, and her half nudity seemed even more
lascivious that had she been all naked. 
     Whimpering, Isabella turned her tear blurred, dilated eyes
over her shoulder, in time to see one of her torturers lift a slim
flexible rod, a bundle of five birch switches, out of the bucket
and shake out the drops with a horrid swish that made her flesh
crawl, and drew a stifled cry of anguish. "Oh-nnno-oh have pity on
me, I know nothing," she begged. 
     Slowly the torturer raised his arm, hovering the rod over the
cringing buttocks; then with a whistling 'hiss-thuckkk', the
switches spread out across the plumpest curves of both buttocks;
the thin silk underwear, stretched to maximum, was no protection,
and a scream. "It hurts, it cuts, oh, have mercy, spare me, I'm
innocent!" rang out at once as Isabella's opulent body jerked and
shuddered on the interrogation bench...                            Chapter 3

     The torturer wielding the slim birch over Isabella's distended
buttocks laid on his dozen slowly, letting the unfortunate mature
woman suffer not only the atrocious pain of each cut which
permeated the innermost threshold of her feminine nervous system,
but also forcing her to wait for the following sadistic stroke.
Eyes drowned in tears, face twisted back over her shoulder,
panting, sobbing, imploring mercy in an almost incoherent tone,
Isabella watched the bundle of switches rise slowly in the air,
hover over her cringing, burning buttocks and remain suspended over
her flesh; until, relaxing her muscles for only an instant, her
torturer perceived this and swept the birch down with emphatic
vigour to make her lunge and twist and writhe on the flogging bench
and utter a new, piercing, prolonged cry of suffering. 
     Nola, horrified at this brutality, tried vainly to tug her
slim corded wrists free from behind the stone column against which
she was so tightly posed. The gag did not succeed in silencing her
frantic cries to implore the Inquisitors to end this cruel torture.
     As the gross whipper flung aside the slim birch after his
companion had counted aloud, "And twelve!", the friar ordained,
"Nola remains impertinent and defiant of our process. Let her
therefore have a taste of the strappado as a warning of the serious
penance we shall impose on her if she does not soon show herself
more docile to our holy order!"
     At one and greedily, the two cowled torturers assigned to the
girl released the panting victim, only to fix her chafed wrists
once again behind her back and, taking her by the shoulders, pushed
her towards an overhead pulley rope which dangled in midair. One of
them made it fast with a double knot to the cords fastening her
wrists; the other stepped to the wall to turn the wooden windlass
which raised the rope and drew Nola's arms upwards behind her
forcing her to stand on tiptoe. As he did so, she uttered a cry of
pain, her large green eyes widening, her face furrowed with anxiety
and discomfort, finding herself forced to stand on the toes of her
slippers to ease the agonizing, searing, dislocating pain which
shot through her shoulders at this unnatural elevated stress. 
     She did not know that the strappado was one of the favourite
devices of the sadistic Dominicans; they hoisted condemned
prisoners high in the air; then at the signal from the Grand
Inquisitor, the rope was released, only to be caught before the
victim's feet could strike the floor; the savage wrench invariably
dislocated the shoulders, causing unspeakable agony. 
     Hoisted even as she was, Nola could sense the gruelling pain
of the torture; it was simple, yet therein lay its fiendish
efficiency. What was more disgusting, though, was she was placed so
that she stared directly at the Isabella's lush buttocks, elevated
lewdly by the wooden triangle, and through the hugging thin silk
underwear, it seemed to her she could see the angry bright red
striata left by the switches, from lower back to upper thighs,
horizontally marking both twisting, shuddering buttocks with their
ominous and infamous weals.
     "Proceed with the second dozen, as prescribed by this
tribunal," the Grand Inquisitor's voice was dry and harsh.
     Isabella uttered a piteous scream: "ohhhnooo,oh spare me any
more, Father! I know nothing beyond what I've said-I swear it on
the cross!"
     "Unrepentant woman, the chastisement will disperse the devious
thoughts you entertain to try to trick us," the monk angrily
replied.
     The man who had wielded the birch now bent to the bench, and
Isabella stiffened with a shrill cry of incredulous dismay and
shame; "Ohhh-God, not that, let me keep my underwear, in the name
of decency!"
     "Woman," the Grand Inquisitor replied, "now you mock our pious
zeal to drive out the demon lurking in your soul. Beware, lest you
show yourself to have heretical beliefs. Know you not that we,
priests of the Order, see in your flesh only the terrain whereon
temporal chastisement is inflicted for the greater good of your
immortal soul? Are you so vain, are you such a whore, then, that
you would believe us stricken by carnal lusts at the sight of your
penitential nakedness? Remove them, I say!" And again, he made a
sign. 
     He reached under his robe and stroked his swollen prick as he
made his pious statement. His hairy balls tingled for relief as he
waited in anticipation to see her naked ass whipped. 
     Pressing herself frantically down on the bench, the woman
tried to prevent this final humiliation; in vain: the torturer who
had whipped her pinched her thigh, and with a squeal of anguish,
Isabella arched up-just enough to permit the rogue to drag the
underwear down, baring the juicy buttocks...their smoothness
lasciviously marred by the multiple darkening red striata of the
switches. 
     Closing her eyes, the woman wept hoarsely in her deepest
shame. But the second torturer was already drawing the other birch
out of its bucket, shaking it to eliminate the brine and, after
whirling it around several times and descending it with an angry
swishing sound that made the now naked victim start and sob
convulsively, posed himself at her left and slowly raised the
bulkier birch, awaiting the signal. 
     At the Inquisitor's slight nod, he whipped it diagonally, and
this time the vicious 'Hissswishhhthuckkk' of nine switches
cracking against the tightly stretched, flaming red naked buttocks
rose to the eager ears of the two robed men at the pulpit desks and
to the torturers...and to poor Nola, who saw her companion begin
an even more degrading and agonizing martyrdom, her intimate nudity
bared to the lecherous, narrowed, cruel gaze of the torturers. 
     "One!" the man who had been first to flog her proclaimed. 
     "Ahrrr-ohhh God have mercy on me. I swear I have done nothing
wrong. God how it cuts and tears my flesh-stop-oh I implore you!"
The second lash fell pitilessly, backhanded, cutting a flaming X
over the already discoloured plump jutting ass.                            Chapter 4

     The second dozen on the bare, welted, shuddering flesh of
Isabella's writhing ass took twice as long as had the first
application over her underwear; it drew incoherent shrieks, babbled
prayers for mercy, hysterical avowals that she could tell the
Inquisitor nothing.
     But the cowled monk at the pulpit was not satisfied. "Release
her, but tie her on her back and apply the rod to her breasts and
belly." And when Nola groaned through her gag, he made a sign, and
one of the girl's torturers tugged at the ceiling pulley-rope,
sending fiery waves of torment through her aching shoulders, so
that she was forced to shift from toe to toe in a lewd dance to
ease the horrid traction on her swollen muscles. Face haggard, dank
with sweat and tears, she stared at the bench as the other two
robed, cowled men turned the wailing, pleading woman onto her back
so that, after they had finished tying her wrists and ankles, she
was posed with her belly obscenely lifted, the lips of her sex
provocatively accessible and gaping, her body jerking as the
burning pangs from her cruel birching tore at her swollen flesh.
The switches had drawn blood and her skin was torn and bruised. 
     Both torturers picked up long brine soaked rods and placed
themselves one on each side of the bound, grossly exposed woman.
One on her left, his target her breasts and the other on her right
by the wooden triangle ready to lash her belly. They paused,
waiting for a sign from the Grand Inquisitor, who was conversing in
whispers with the masked friar opposite him: "Do you confess now,
woman? Are you ready to tell us what impious things you heard Nola
say? Speak!"
     But the woman, half-fainting with terror and pain, her body
shaken by convulsive tremors, the burning agony of her whipped ass
intensified by the cruel position of her flesh, as her buttocks
were pushed up by the hard wooden triangle under her, only feebly
moaned. 
     "Continue, thirty each!" the Inquisitor hissed, leaning
forward, his face a mask of pitiless zeal and fanaticism as he
stared at her exposed cunt, his huge cock hard against the
underside of the pulpit, his balls ready to explode. 
      One robed ghoul raised his rod high above his right shoulder.
The taunting smile vanished and his mouth tightened with vindictive
pleasure. There was a pause and the monks held their breath in
anticipation. Then his arm came down with flashing energy. The rod
landed with an ear-splitting smack across both pale breasts.
     The woman barely caught her breath after her shriek at the
ferocity of the pain. Where the stroke had landed a print of the
rod glowed across the swelling and writhing tits. 
     The other man carefully measured the rod-wickedly low across
her belly. He raised it and slashed it down across her naked belly.
There was desperation in the woman's face. The torturers met this
with malicious smiles, to show her their private enjoyment of what
was being done to her. There was dismay in her narrowed eyes and
she saw the bulges in the front of the robes, the shape of a cock,
hard and heavy with the enjoyment of watching her thrashed. 
     Twice more the rod smacked agonizingly across the soft
undercurve of her breasts. The first pain of the impact did not
diminish but swelled over several seconds. The monk naturally took
pleasure in timing each stroke to land just as the torment of its
predecessor reached a climax. 
     Isabella was gasping at the searching intensity of the rod's
torture. Between the strokes, the silence of anticipation was
broken only by the creak of the wooden block and the breathless
writhing of the naked woman in the cords which held her down. Twice
more the rod lashed diagonally across her belly, the second through
her pubic hair. Three strokes, each a deepening red, now embossed
her breasts and belly. Another stroke, aimed low, caught her across
the tops of her upper thighs. Her screaming never stopped.
     The stone walls echoed the woman's shrillness and gave a new
edge of enthusiasm to the excitement of those who watched her. The
Grand Inquisitor and the masked monk leant forward, licking their
lips eagerly, taking a closer view. Isabella's breasts and hips
surged in the lewdest sexual invitation. Her narrow eyes brimmed
with tears and the thin mouth was stretched in a never-ending howl.
The shrieks seemed paralysed by the intensity of the pain which
another lash of the rod inflicted across her bare breasts.
     Isabella's eyes rolled back, glazed, her mind staggered, her
nerves in shock, torn by the satanic feverishly hot strokes. 
     "Tell us only what you have heard Nola say against the Church
and you will be released from the interrogation."
     "Only...ah...God...I...I suffer so....ah...only...th..that
she...oh, there is no treason or heresy. Be me...merciful, I... beg
you, Oh F-father...I...I hurt everywhere. I am so sick-"
     She persists in defying us," the masked friar now broke in
hoarsely. "Keep at her!"
     The rod cracked into her belly again. Her pleading ended in a
wild scream. Again her breasts were ravaged. With whip-like
savagery the rods cut into the woman's defenceless flesh. The walls
sang with the sharpness of the impacts. Isabella cried out, wild
and shrill. They thrashed her quick and hard. 
     The rod landed aslant the heaving tits and her belly at the
same time branding her with their fiery imprint. "Fourteen,
fifteen!" ...Pl-e-ease! Stop! Just for a moment!
Ooooooow!...NO!...OOOW!...Don't do it again yet! NOT MY BREASTS,
NOT MY LEGS!"
     "Eighteen, nineteen, twenty."
     "I can't bear any more! NOT MY NIPPLES! Oh, God. LET ME GO,
PLEASE. NO! NO!
     At every stroke her full and pale-fleshed hips rose. The
torturers were unmoved by the woman's cry's. Her body jumped and
quivered as if touched by fire. She tried to expel the swelling
agony of each whip crack by surging her hips upward but this only
made her soundly thrashed belly a better target. 
     The raised rod stripes across her bare breasts, belly and
thighs were dangerously swollen. Again and again they lashed her
with savage energy. Isabella felt the little trickles of blood run
down her hips, momentarily gathering under the curves of her
buttocks then running down the triangle. 
     One monk stooped and whispered in the woman's ear, his hand
lying against her bare hip. The two men behind Nola were pumping
their gross pricks in the excitement of watching the woman
tortured. They longed only for the woman's thrashing to end so they
could have their turn at the girl. The torturers finally took
Isabella to the very last decreed stroke. They were reluctant to
finish with her even then.
     Her head fell back against the bench, barely conscious.
     "I fear we must use stronger means of learning the truth. The
rack!"
     "So be it. But," to the fat masked monk, "make certain she has
the strength to endure it. We must have a confession."
     "You will, Holiness."
     Gesturing to his companion to bring a mug of mulled wine and
spices, he tilted up Isabella's lolling head and forced her to
swallow several sips. It seemed to revive her, and she began to
weep pitifully. 
     Then, untying her bonds, he helped her to sit up, her hands at
once flying to cover her panting breasts, whimpering with terror,
shaking. 
     And once again, the fiendish cruelty of the Inquisition that
took such unholy joy in the merciless torment of a stripped,
degraded, demeaned female in the sanctimonious name of salvation
was exercised.
     Then, as both men exchanged a knowing glance, they lifted her
to her feet and forced her to the rack, stretched her out on the
narrow plank, then swiftly corded her wrists and ankles. Each set
of ropes were wound around a heavy wooden roller controlled by a
windlass, and now both men stationed themselves, one at each end,
holding the windlass handle and awaiting the sign. As the friar
nodded, each gave his windlass a half-turn, and Isabella's
voluptuous naked body seemed to stiffen and immobilize, as her head
rose, her mouth gaping in a wide 'O' of agony. 

                            Chapter 5

     "Confess, my daughter, spare yourself needless suffering," the
Grand Inquisitor spat, cupping his bony chin with one hand, leaning
forward to study the mature enticing naked body that was stretched
like a statue of marble on the rack's horrid narrow plank.
Isabella's fingers splayed out, clawing and writhing as she strove
for endurance in the face of her torment; her swollen, welted,
still inflamed buttocks ground down painfully against the rough
surface of the plank to add further torment to her tortured body. 
     "I-I already told you...F-father...ah...oh, my bones ..a
...ache...oh...mercy-pity-it is too much-I know no more that what-
I-I've already said," she panted her head feebly turning from side
to side. The cords of her throat stood out, pulse of her life
beating rapidly, while the agitated surging of her superb bare
welted breasts made the eyes of the masked beaded friar glisten
with lust; he too leaned forward, avid to detail every nuance of
the torture, and his eyes did not miss the cute girl, moaning
softly now, head still bowed, arms painfully drawn up high behind
her back, teetering on her toes. "Soon, little girl, soon!"
     The Grand Inquisitor nodded. The two men turned their
windlasses, a creaking sound as another half-turn was registered.
Isabella uttered a piercing, wordless shriek, her head again
lifting, then falling back with a thud. One saw the stark outlines
of her ribcages, and in the distended armpits, dank torture-sweat
glistened. The hair on her cunt was soaked and her own urine,
forced from her by the torture ran down the triangle!
     Again Nola, aghast as the prolonged and sadistic torture of
her helpless, innocent companion, cried out against her gag,
twisting her flushed face towards the tribunal, as she continued to
teeter on her toes to ease the now savage, muscle aching strain
which the rope exerted on her shoulders. 
     "Confess! Throw yourself on the mercy of the Church which
pardons sinners who repent their misdeeds," the Grand Inquisitor
urged. 
     "Ahhh-ohhh.I-h-hurt so-my God-I'm innocent-I swear I know
nothing else-let me rest-oh my arms, my legs...it hurts," Isabella
whimpered. 
     Impatiently, the Grand Inquisitor made a sigh; both torturers
turned the windlasses another half turn; a piercing shriek tore
from the naked woman, her toes curled and clawed, her fingers
twisted like talons, her body glistened with agony-sweat, and her
head feebly turned from side to side, the eyes staring, enormously
dilated, the skin along her ribs so taut one would believe it would
burst like that of a ripe peach. 
     "Your Holiness, the next turn may do serious damage to the
accused," the torturer respectfully advised.
     "Put her in the pillory, let her tread on nettles and gravel;
this will chasten her defiant spirit till we are ready to proceed,"
the Grand Inquisitor decreed. 
     "As your Holiness commands," the torturer fawned on his
master. He and his companion now eased the windlasses, hastened to
cut the cords which cut Isabella's wrists and ankles, and then he
held a cup of strong wine into which a stimulant had been dropped
to her lips and obliged her to gulp it down. 
     Next they lifted her from the bench and led her to a section
of the damp stone floor where, on the stone, a bundle of freshly
picked nettled lay, while the second torturer took a metal ewer and
dumped its contents onto the nettles; pebbles, sharp bits of gravel
and thorns. 
     He moved to the rear of the dungeon to bring back the pillory,
a square wooden board, quite heavy, with three clamp-holes cut in
it; unlocking it, he placed Isabella's neck in the middle, wider
hole, then dragged her wrists up to lock them into the two smaller
holes at each side. Finally, a pair of ankle-stocks were fixed to
her bare ankles after he had lewdly and lingeringly stroked her
legs and whispered obscene comments about what he would do to her
naked ass later. Both men then lifted her, crying and incoherently
sobbing and pleading for pardon, so that she stood on the nettles
and pebbles. The pillory was attached to two ropes which hung from
the ceiling. His companion, a squat, burly fat monk, now produced
a short thick leather strap, and, standing behind the victim,
applied five slowly spaced, vigorous, smacking cuts across the
ripest curves of her spacious ass, already so piteously streaked by
the darkening welts of the birch. 
     Isabella struggled, shrieking, all her vocal powers restored
by the atrocious multiple agonies she experienced; her reaction
under the strap was to shift her already stung, pricked and bruised
bare feet, her naked breasts heaving madly, jiggling in all their
lush, mature resilience as she forced herself to stand relatively
motionless, the welts from the strap far more agonizing than the
sting of the nettles which her bare feet crushed. 
                            Chapter 6

     The bearded, masked Inquisitor now leaned over to whisper to
the Grand inquisitor at his right, and the latter nodded, then
addressed the still gagged, helpless Nola. "My daughter, I trust
that what you have seen and heard has convinced you on the wisdom
of not daring to defy the Holy Inquisition nor its procedures
against all heretics and the defiant and lawless of our
unenlightened society. I therefore call upon you to confess your
sins and to ask humbly for the forgiveness of Mother Church. I now
turn you over now to this monk." With this sanctimonious speech, he
rose and left the dungeon, hurrying to satisfy his sexual hunger on
some naked boy in a nearby dungeon. The masked robed man remained
with the four torturers. Isabella's moans and whimpering sobs
continued as the tortured naked woman tried to ease the pangs of
her burning feet by shifting herself from foot to foot incessantly,
a manoeuvre which accentuated her sumptuous breasts. 
     Now Nola began to tremble, finding herself alone with the
unknown Inquisitor and the four grim-faced cowled, robed monk-
torturers, with her companion naked nearby and undergoing pitiless
torment. One of her two guards, a bald, fat man, now approached her
and removed the gag. 
     "Oh my God," she panted, trying to twist her tear-streaked,
pale face towards the pulpit in the shadows-the Grand Inquisitor
had blown his candle out as he departed the scene. "I swear I have
done no treason nor offense to His Majesty or to the Holy Church.
     "But you stand accused," came the resonant voice of the masked
friar. "And by the rules of the Inquisition which blessed Friar
Torqumada has inscribed for us, his servants, to follow, you must
prove your innocence of such charges before we can deliver you from
the burden of accusation. You have defied the will of the King by
refusing the offer of the Conde as your guardian. That is wilful
insolence and disregard for solemn authority. You must learn
humility and obedience, my child. To that end, since you persist in
your flouting of our questions and even our right to ask them, I
have no recourse but to turn you over to the executioners of the
civil guard, who have the temporal authority over you once we have
consigned you to them. A last time, Nola, will you repent your
insolence and admit your heresies.
     No reply.
     A vicious little smile curved the fat lips of the monk. "So be
it, my child. Let the question begin with having her stripped, then
show her the implements of torture."
     All four torturers now approached the writhing, strappado-
bound captive and, without bothering to untie her wrists and ease
the frightful torment of her unnaturally lofted arms and pain-
racked shoulders, began to rip off her gown, her petticoats, her
slippers, stockings and chemise.
     Now, to add to her shame, one of the men seized her underwear
by the waistband, began to force them down from Nola's virginal
legs, till at last, despite her frenzied kicks and shrieks of
indignation, they lay in a twisted heap around her slim ankles.
Pulling them off, the brute straightened, rubbing her legs and pale
buttocks with rough probing hands, whispering obscenities. Another
pinched the nipples on her boyish chest. His three colleagues
grasped her roughly, one drawing her arms behind her back once he
had untied her wrists, the two others each gripping a dimpled ivory
shoulder, and then, naked, the young girl was forced to walk past
the whipping bench, the rack and the pillory. 
     Meanwhile, Isabella still tried frantically to ease the
burning of her bare tender feet; the ankle stocks hampered her, but
desperately she managed to lift one foot for an instant before
setting it down, then lifting the other, continuously whimpering
and uttering plaintive sobs and cried. 
     "Now, child, you have seen some of the devices by which we
extract humility and penitence from our errant subjects. These men
will not be awed by the fact that you are a twelve year old girl;
will you spare yourself shame and discomfort by kneeling now and
making honest confessional of your disobedience?"
     "Never-your can kill me, but never!" Nola panted.
     "Child, we shall not kill you; the Inquisition commits no such
crime against its misled children. But we shall chastise you as you
merit, much as we would a naughty, headstrong child who will not
listen to the wisdom of her elders. He made another sign and the
four men dragged her towards a second pillory set on a low wide
dais; two of them opened the device while the other two bowed her
head and placed her wrists inside the cut-out yoke-holes; then the
head piece was put down and locked, and Nola found herself
standing virtually on tiptoe, her long thighs nervously shaking and
shifting uncomfortably as she tried for a secure balance.
                            Chapter 7

     At another sign from the bearded Inquisitor, one of the
torturers advanced, carrying a strap about two feet long, with a
double thick short grip, and about half an inch wide and half again
as thick, its last five inches split down the middle to form two
finger-like thongs. 
     Now, as Nola groaned and twisted, he drew back his right arm,
posed the strap in the air, then swept it vigorously across the
upper curves of her bare ass.
     Nola cried out, sucking in her breath and squirming at the
initial burning kiss of the leather strap which smacked with a loud
indecent impact against the resilient flesh of her buttocks.
     "Still haughty and rebellious, my child? Alas, you do not help
your case by such continued defiance. It must be thrashed out of
you entirely." the Inquisitor declared. 
     The torturer stepped back, studying the contours of the young
girl's buttocks, then directed his strap over the base of both
cheeks framing her ass with two bright red streaks. Once again the
angry 'Smackk-thwackk' of the strap rang out in the dungeon, and
Nola"s intake of breath together with the stiffening of her thighs
showed her pain. Now, relaxing her muscles somewhat, she let the
men see the quaking agitation which surged through her naked
buttocks, though she fiercely clenched her long thighs trying to
hide the most intimate nook of her virgin body. 
     The masked friar's eyes narrowed and glittered with an evil
joy to see the young child undergoing such degradation. He liked
the young ones the best and his prick surged as he imagined the
punishment they would inflict on her naked body. The torturer
eyeing him, grinned knowingly. He liked interrogating young girls
and his prick was hugely erect and his hairy balls hung heavily. He
then inflicted a third, then a fourth stroke, both with all his
might over the ripest curves of Nola's naked ass. 
     "Ohhh-ohhh-stop, you can't, please don't-" she groaned,
shifting from bare foot to foot and again wrenching at her yoked
wrist and neck; all to no avail. She could hear Isabella's
incessant wails and pleading, now babbled pleas for mercy; and she
arched her hips towards the pillory post, wanting to hide her
hairless pubis from these barbarous men. 
     The fifth lash stung her bare ass an inch below its ripest
contours; it wrenched a sobbing gasp "Ohhh!" from her tightened
lips, and her eyes opened, widened, and began to fill with tears. 
     A pause now, and then, with rapid, short-ranged strokes, the
torturer began to flog Nola's buttocks, directing the lashes
haphazardly all over the virgin ass cheeks. This flurry was agony
for the young girl; she could not anticipate where the next stroke
would fall, and the way she had been placed in the yokes, forced to
strain on bare toes, augmented her suffering. 
     Now a longer pause, and the men listened with perverted
pleasure as she strove to collect her poise, retrieve her courage
and endurance to remain stoic. 
     
     Then again the strap swung out, curling wickedly around the
top of her right hip, with an angry 'Smackkk'. "Aiiiii! Ohhh, it
hurts!" Nola cried out as she struggled in the pillory. 
     'Thwack-crack' the strap whistled over the other hip, the two
'fingers' curling in towards her tender pubic area. 
     "Ohhh God-no-no-stop-I implore you-it is unjust."
     'Crack-thwack-smackkk'. Thrice the torturing strap flailed her
lower buttocks, and the girl staggered as the angry red marks
blazed on her virgin flesh, profaning her body. Again her agonized
cry rang out, and Isabella, despite her own unending torment,
echoed it with a piteous "Oh have mercy, Father, do not torture
Nola so horribly-I implore you! Be merciful!"
     "We are merciful!" the bearded friar replied, "She is being
punished as a child should be. It is to humble her to respect
authority, the more necessary since she no longer has parents to
undertake this duty."
     And the strap resumed its hellish work, biting with brutal
impact against first one buttock, then the other, or across both,
in diagonal slashes. Nola shrieked aloud in despairing agony and
kicked and danced, unconsciously exposing the pink soft cleft of
her virginity to the gloating eyes of the five men. 
     A long pause now, during which Nola's choking, agonized sobs
rang out; then again the angry 'crack-thwack-crack' of the strap
resumed with vertical strokes as the torturer made his two-thronged
weapon flagellate the young girl's violently streaked and swollen
buttocks.
     "Are you ready to kneel and beg forgiveness?" The bearded
friar hoarsely demanded. 
     "Oh-oh-God-I can't bear it-mercy-"
     "You do not answer." He raised his voice, and the fat monk
once again sent the strap hurtling over the girl's livid ass.
     "Yes, Yes, I will submit-anything to stop the pain-oh, how it
hurts me-enough-mercy!" Nola shrilled as she lunged against the
post, fingers clawing the air. 
     At the friar's sign, two of the torturers unlocked the
pillory, then dragged the sobbing, broken girl toward her
interrogator. His eyes feasted on the bare flesh between her
thighs, at the pink nipples on her boyish chest, at the tremors
which rippled through her thighs.
     "Now say 'I swear to obey and to accept the Conde de Castlemar
as my guardian.'"
     Slowly, dully, her face twisted with pain, Nola raised her
head and then her eyes widened and she recoiled with a cry. "It-it
is you-"
                            Chapter 8

     "You-you are not the Inquisitor-you-you are the wicked evil
man who tried to force me to accept you as my guardian!" she cried
out.
     He straightened, took off the mask, and bowed sarcastically.
"Yes, it is I, Pedro, Conde de Castlemar, your guardian-to-be and
your destined master. Do you accept?"
     "Nooo! I was weak-I did not know it was you-whip me to death
if you want, I will never agree!" She struggled to rise but the
monks held her.
     "We shall return to you pretty friend, child," he said. "You
will hear but not see her ordeal. Perhaps it will bring you to your
senses." Then, turning to the grinning torturers, he directed,
"Place the discipline helmet on this disobedient child and suspend
her. Then take Isabella to the horse! Any you can have Nola for
the night. Break her. I'll be back in the morning to claim my
prize. She had better be ready. Do what you must."
     The four monks eyes shone with pleasure. A night with Nola
and Isabella. The things they would do, the commands they would
make the naked woman and girl obey. It was almost enough to make
their gross pricks gush gooey slime.  
     In vain, Nola tried to struggle; the four men easily
overpowered her and forced a black leather helmet over her
contorted tearstained face. The helmet has a small cutout for her
nose, but at the place for the mouth was a ball gag which they
forced into her mouth and made her cheeks bulge. 
     This done they carried her under a pulley rope. As three of
the men held her upside down, the fourth tied her ankles to one of
the pulley ropes. Her wrists were bound together, then the pulley
rope was pulled upwards and Nola hung upside down, blindfolded,
gagged, but able to hear whatever took place in this unholy dungeon
where powerful men of medieval Spain plotted with the Inquisition
to allow them to use its inhuman methods to gain their own perverse
desires. 
     Leaving Nola hanging, whimpering, feeling the blood rush to
her head, the four torturers released Isabella from the stocks,
then dragged her towards a platform on which stood a wooden horse,
with a sharp edged wooden triangle; lifting her, they straddled her
over it and set her down so that pussy rested hard on the sharp
edge of the triangle; swiftly they attached her. Mounting a ladder,
one of the torturers bound her wrists behind her back, crossing one
over the other, then cording her elbows together, then roping her
ankles to her wrists and finally letting down a noose-halter from
the ceiling and fitting it around her neck. One monk tied heavy
weights to her knees.
                            Chapter 9

     "Aiii-oh take me down?" Isabella at once shrieked, trying to
arch her cunt off the horse, for already the pressure against her
clit and labia caused extreme pain.
     "Listen to her, Nola," the sadistic monk mocked before the
swaying, masked, naked girl who hung upside down before him. "Take
pity on her."
     "Ahrr-ohhh, God-spare me any more torture-oh, mercy-I've done
nothing. I didn't hear her say anything! Pity! Please!" Isabella
wailed as the weight tied to her knees mercilessly compelled her to
sink down again, the sharp horse cruelly biting into the tender
flesh of her pussy and the noose tightening around her neck.
     "There, you see, Nola?" He paused, and, seeing no movement
from the agonized young girl, continued. "We are going to put
Isabella back on the rack, and this time hot irons will be applied
to her belly, tits and cunt and she will appear in Madrid, naked,
to be whipped by the monks with all to see, then consigned to the
convent of the Ursulines for life."
     "Oh, save me, Nola, oh don't let them do that to me, have
pity!" the frantic woman wailed. 
     But Nola did not respond.
     "No, please don't do it, I'll tell everything," Isabella
screamed. "She is a heretic. She denounced the Church and the King
many times. I'll tell. I'll heard her."
     "Oh, no! she's lying," Nola yelled. "Don't listen to her, I
didn't, I didn't."
     The perverted monks grinned at each other with perverse
satisfaction. This was what they wanted. One against the other. Now
they could apply hideous torture to both victims to 'find out the
real truth'. And now that there was 'evidence' there was no
restriction against sexual interference. Heretics did not have the
protection of the Church against rape.
     And the young age of the girl would not save her from anything
now. They did not have to be careful with her. It was going to be
a long rewarding night.
     Thus it was in the fifteenth century, under the authority of
the Holy Inquisition; that a woman and child of noble birth were
taught the pitiless, age-old lesson of subjugation by the dominant,
all-powerful male.                   A Comment from the Author:

     The comments and suggestions posted by readers are what keep
the authors going. The same is true for me. I've got a general
direction I want to go with NOLA series from here, but that's all.
The door's wide open for specific scenes and characters. I'd love
for all you "Anons" out there to contribute your suggestions. If
nobody does, the NOLA series will probably go on anyway but the
more suggestions I get the better the product, I hope.

     Please post any comments to French Connection BBS (914-278-
6266) or Leather Rose BBS (312-665-0111). I visit both regularly.

                         And a Question:

     Does anyone out there still like whips?  Or for that matter
canes, straps, paddles, tawses, martinets, cat-o'-nines, riding
crops, or even an occasional good old fashioned bundle of birch
switches? I haven't seen a good flagellation story in ages. What
ever happened to naughty young schoolgirls getting their bare asses
caned by lecherous old men? I'm not talking about spanking. That's
its own little club, and they mostly frown on us hard core B&D and
S&M freaks. I'm talking about the whip 'em till they bleed world.
Are any of us "flag" freaks still out there?  Comments please.

Curt Strap
January, 1994                            Listing of the NOLA series as of 31 March 94. 

     Please note that the text files may not be politically correct
and many may be offensive to some readers. The numbering sequence
is the order that I wrote them. Each one stands alone except that
Nola, Tashia, Jenny, or Jeremy are the main characters in the NOLA
series. If you are interested in any of them that are not posted
please leave a note on Leather Rose or TFC BBS. Some of the stories
are not complete and others are edited daily. I reserve the right
to change the title and numbering sequence for my files. 

If you have any suggested titles and scenarios let me know.

Nola1.txt      "The Beginning" (Nola's introduction to S&M) 
Nola2.txt      "The Chief of Police" (Nola on a Turkish Island)
Nola3.txt      "The Augustines" (Nola's family's introduction)
Nola4.txt      "The Reverend" 
Nola5.txt      "The Island"
Nola6.txt      "Nola's Children"
Nola7.txt      "The Rape Photographer"
Nola8.txt      "The Porn Producers"
Nola9.txt      "The Nurse" (torture by Viet Cong,incomplete,ideas?)
Nola10.txt     "The Children At Play" AKA Children.zip 
Nola11.txt     "The Game" AKA Sarah.zip
Nola12.txt     "The Doctor" (not available, too disgusting)
Nola13.txt     "The Farm" (not available, too disgusting)
Nola14.txt     "The Model"
Nola15.txt     "Un-titled" (incomplete)
Nola16.txt     "Blackmailing Nola"
Nola17.txt     "The Spy"
Nola18.txt     "The Tudor" AKA Simone.zip
Nola19.txt     "The Inquisition" AKA Inquis.zip (Nola in 1492)
Nola20.txt     "The Cottage" (incomplete)
Nola21.txt     "The Convent"
Nola22.txt     "The Cop" (incomplete)
Nola23.txt     "The Reporter"
Nola24.txt     "The Musician"
Nola25A.txt    "Nola and Tashia" (Nola humiliated by daughter) or
Nola25B.txt    "Nola and Jeremy" (Nola humiliated by son)(same sty) 
Nola26.txt     "The Prison Matron" (not available, too disgusting)
Nola27.txt     "The Complex"
Nola28.txt     "The Cruise" (includes Pamela1.zip to chap 7)
Nola29.txt     "The Scout Troop"
Nola30.txt     "Tashia"
Nola31.txt     "The Exibitionist"
Nola32.txt     "The Asylum" (limited distribution)

Curt Strap - March 31, 1994
