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No one had ever accused Witchfinder Navarro of being bad at his job. They’d accused him of a lot of other things, to be sure: wanton sadism, public drunkenness, and fanaticism to an extent that unnerved even veteran inquisitors. Once, another witchfinder had even accused him of being the half-breed son of an ogre - not an unreasonable assumption, given he stood scarcely below seven feet tall and looked as if he could level a small house with his bare hands.
The witchfinder in question had retracted his accusation a few days later, after accidentally running face-first into a locked iron door five or six times in a row. There was nothing Navarro hated more than witches, but people insulting his mother was a close second.
Despite his spotty reputation and unconventional methods, however, no one could question Navarro’s results. Every woman he’d ever interrogated had confessed to being a witch within three days, renouncing their sinful ways and pleading guilty at their trials. In exchange for their confessions, the crown prosecutor would agree to spare the repentant witches from the pyres, sentencing them instead to live out their remaining days as servants to local nobles of high standing.
Personally, Navarro thought this was far too kind a fate for them. As far as he was concerned, the only good use for a witch was as kindling. But as long as the crown prosecutor and the nobles kept sending gold his way after every confession, he’d be content with simply inflicting as much pain and torment as he could on every witch who wound up in his dungeon.
Luckily, this latest witch seemed particularly stubborn. Her case was so open-and-shut that he doubted a confession was even necessary. She’d shown up in a flash of light in the middle of the village square, dressed like a witch straight out of a children’s storybook and shouting something in German. Luckily, a vigilant farmer had tackled her from behind and disarmed her before she could curse any of the townspeople. Her staff was being kept under heavy guard by the local inquisitor, along with an unidentifiable metal device she’d been carrying and a strange wing-like apparatus she’d worn on her back.
But despite being the most obvious witch Navarro had ever seen, she adamantly refused to admit to it! Instead, she wove fantastical stories about being a doctor from the future, transported back in time by a malfunctioning medical device. Navarro didn’t know what part of her insane ruse sounded more ridiculous: the idea of time travel, her steadfast insistence that her obviously magical abilities were the product of futuristic machines, or the absurd supposition that a woman could be qualified to practice medicine.
Flagrant as her lies may have been, though, she stuck to them resolutely. As a result, Navarro had decided to employ even harsher methods than he normally used.
The witch’s wrists and elbows had been secured behind her with strong ropes and pulled up toward the ceiling in a strict strappado tie, forcing her to bend forward at a sharp angle. Her ankles were spread wide and lashed to either end of a long metal bar, and a chain ran from a hook in the floor to a heavy iron collar around her neck, limiting her movement even further. A thick leather bit had been forced between her teeth and tied in place, ensuring she wouldn’t be able to cast any spells or enchant him with her voice.
It also did an excellent job of muffling her cries of pain as he mercilessly flogged her helplessly exposed ass with his trusty cane.
For any other witch, this would have been discomfort enough, but Navarro had pulled out some of his special toys to ensure this stubborn wench cracked as quickly as possible. Her clothing - already sinfully revealing, Navarro had noted - had been torn open at the chest, and coarse ropes had been wound tightly around the bases of her breasts. In addition, a pair of heavily-weighted metal clamps was clamped onto each of her nipples, swinging painfully back and forth with each blow of Navarro’s cane against her rear end.
“You certainly are a resilient little thing, aren’t you, Angela?” Navarro jeered, his mocking words punctuated by another sharp blow of the cane and another gagged scream from his captive. He’d taken to calling her by her real name rather than the pseudonym of “Mercy” she’d given at first, a taunting reminder of one of the few pieces of honest information he’d wrung out of her.
“Pleehf, yhrr mahing a mishehh!” the buxom blonde seductress pleaded tearfully, drool leaking from her overly tight bit gag with every garbled word she spoke. “Ah’m nah ah wihshh! Ah’m a dohhfthr! I dihhn’n mehn tuh - AAAAH!”
“Enough of your deceit!” he snapped, cutting off Angela’s protests with a final harsh blow before placing his cane down. “Clearly, you’ve given yourself over to the devil so completely that not even the greatest suffering can loosen your tongue! But there are more ways to break a witch than pain…”
With no small amount of gleeful anticipation, Navarro bent down on one knee and took a silver key from his pocket, sliding it into the padlock of a small wooden chest sitting amongst his belongings. He opened the lid wide, and an expression of terrified recognition came across the witch’s face as she glimpsed the item within: a smooth, cylindrical metal rod with a rounded tip. This was his secret weapon, a miraculous device that could force even the most heartless of witches to repent.
“Wahh? Hah on errf dih yuh geh wun uf thohsh?” she gasped, tearing at her bonds with a newfound intensity.
“Oh? Recognize this, do you, Angela?” Navarro chuckled, standing up and flipping the switch on the base of the rod. A soft buzz filled the room as the anachronistic device began vibrating intensely. “I know not what it is myself; it appeared to me in a flash of heavenly light years ago. At first I feared it may be a tool of sorcery, but I soon realized that only the Lord could have granted me such a gift.”
Slowly, Navarro moved the vibrator closer and closer to Angela’s sex, savoring her panicked struggles and desperate cries. Her privates were still covered by her scandalous outfit, but that was hardly an obstacle. Few witches lasted more than five hours of simple teasing with this device before they were willing to confess - and if he needed to push this one farther, he could tear the flimsy fabric apart whenever he wanted.
“After all, who else would give me such an effective tool for punishing witches?”
Angela’s despairing moans echoed off the dungeon walls as the metal tip made contact with her cloth-covered snatch. Navarro smiled cruelly and began to gently twist the vibrator back and forth, rubbing it up and down her moistening folds.
“Now, let’s see if you’re the first to make it past three days…”
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