[Kitten]

She took another step on the cobbled square, the chains around her wrists and ankles dragging behind and tiring her.
Her hair lay loose over her shoulders, and she had her eyes downcast.
Another step on the cobbled square, with her naked feet.
She could hear the clank! Of the steel on the stone with every step she took, but she kept walking.
Slimey cold spit dripped off her chin, ontro her breast. It trickled down, leaving a thin shiny trail over her hard nipple.

A small desperate sound rose from her throat, and for a short moment she looked up. People were staring at her, and her face and at her body.
She was walking down an isly of angry faces. One of the men stepped up to her when she passed him and spat her in the face.

She turned her face away in a reflex and felt the warm goo slipping down from the temple of her head, in her slick hair and over her cheek. A short sob escaped her lips. A few of the younger guys threw rocks at her tits.
The sharp edged pebbles and rock pieces left tiny little indents all over the firm breasts, leaving her fair skin with red sore spots.

Her steps were short and awkward and she lowered her head again, her hands clenched in fists infront of her lowerbelly.
They'd forced her to drink water, so much water. They had been walking down the village for 20 minutes now. The first person gasped and yelped when they saw, and somehow, it spread faster than they were walking.
It had only taken 5 or 10 minutes for a sizeable crowd to gather and see this spectacle, and by this time it was actually getting crowded.
It was harder to navigate, and apart from that was her bladder distracting her.

She bumped her toe into one of the cobbles, and tripped. Her hands still cuffed and chained to her feetcuffs, she fell down hard. She felt a prickly stingy sensation on her face, and realised she'd broken skin. Stumbling back on her feet, she realised how many men behind her had seen her private parts.

Her knee was open as well, bloody red.
Suddenly she felt a stinging where her calves had been caned sore last night.
Without realising her bladder had let go during the fall, and the lightly tinted liquid was now running in the wounds.

She shrieked; it burned. A tear ran down her face.
“Please!”she blurted.
Someone from behind pushed her hard, and she stumbled forward, barely avoiding another fall.
“Slut.” she heard some whisper from the crown. “Tramp.”- “Whore.”
Louder and louder the voices became, up to the point where the insults were just yelled out from somewhere in the back, in the anonimity of the group.
“Dirty fucking slag.”- “Look at you! Disgusting little messed up skank.”
Her clit twitched.

One of the two guards walking behind her grabbed her by her hair, pulling her down on her knees, her shins bruising on the uneven cobbles.
He walked over her, his saggy clammy balls going over her face, onto her lips.
Instinctively she knew she would apply herself to servicing them eventually, but at that very moment in time the shame was too much for her, and she turned away.

They were surrounded by viewers now, dense rows of people. A few snickered, the women on the front row looked at her disappointed or enraged. But mostly disgusted. The second guard was readying a poker over a fire, until the tip was getting a red glow.

“No, no, no!!” she pleaded when she saw him coming closer. She clamped her legs together and bent over them, holding on to herself in a state of absolute terror.
“No please, I'll do it, I'll do it.” She quickly sat up and let the soft balls fall onto her tongue. She sensually but enthusiastically teased the first guard, completely enveloping his sack with her mouth.
Her desperation hit a high when she felt the other mans hands on her thighs, forcing them apart.
The handle of the poker was oddly cold when she felt it on her thighs as the guard put her in the right position.
With her knees far apart now, she was kneeled on the stones. Her revealed inner thighs showed marks of former burning, thin long agressive looking scars with uneven edges. He moved the thing close enough for her to feel the radiating heat.
In the back she could hear people hollering and laughing.
“Look at the fucking porker!”- “Haha, the stupid bitch is gonna get it!”

When the scarily red-hot thing was pressed to her thigh, and immediate layer of steam came off it. She screamed a long, dragging cry, and the piss was gushing from her dirty slit, and splattering onto the iron.
A dark liquid pooled under her, and slowly started running inbetween these sharp and cold rocks she was kneeled on, that were digging in her skin.

Dazed, she moved her head up properly when she felt the first guard backhand her across the face hard. Her hair was pulled without any care for the person attached, apart from pressing her face back into his jewels.
She obediently licked them, and played with them.
The hairs made her gag, as well as the smell. Running water was scarce everywhere, and these guards weren't making a king's wage.
She was sobbing and crying now, her nipples jutting out as if they were trying to entice their audience. As she suckled on his orbs, he let go a warm stream of piss down her neck, over her tits and over her tummy. It trickled and dripped over her cunt down on the floor where it mingled with hers.
Instead of shaking it off, he dunked himself in her mouth and she sucked it completely clean.

Her slit was throbbing now. Faintly she could hear the buzz of the crowd, as more men and women spat at her feet and her body. She could feel the chains pulling her up, and she stumbled closer to the platform.
Climbing the wooden stairs, she nearly tripped again. Her body was exhausted, and she hadn't eaten in days.
For a second the guards stalled behind, and she was alone on the wooden stage.
A slender figure, bruised and battered. Cuffed and chained like an animal, covered in globs of thick dirty spit. Her shoulders were trembling as she took a hesitant step.

In the middle was an impressive piece of craftmanship.
The dark planks were sturdy and well put together, and the blade shone in the sun brightly.
Suddenly a sharp pain slipped through her legs, one of the guards had kicked her on her inner knee. She fell to the floor, and he dragged her in place.
Positioning her head over the red velvet cushion, he moved some strands of hair out of her face.
She thought it was an odd kindness that fate had just shown her, for the cushion to be soft and the guard to be a nice guy afterall.

A row formed at the stage stairs, a line. A que of eager men was orderly lining up for a turn. She was still leaking but she was out of piss already.
From her peripheral view she could see a thin silver line, the shine reflecting from the blade.
The first man planted himself behind her. With every thrust he made, she saw the blade moving. It was a game they liked to play, and she had seen it before.
The man that pounded hard enough to let the blade fall. Would get a special trophy.

The man behind her was already done, leaving her pussy aching and unsatisfied.
From what she could hear the second man was a real beast. His heavy footsteps shook the wooden boarding of the podium, and he was very heavy handed when he grabbed her hips as well.
The brute rammed a girthy throbbing cock in her over and over again, and she got sore quite quickly.
The warm painful sensation became too much for her, and slowly the glimmer of the blade was faded out by her tears.

She spent the next three hours in a daze as man after man took her. The lot were pulling her hair, calling her names, choking her, hitting her, kicking her.
A few more had the guts to piss over her face, all the while she lay there begging and pleading for release. The blade looked so close, but it was still so far away.

The last man in the row shocked her. She knew his face. She stared at him the best she could from her position, and identified his face. He was an old friend of hers, she grew up with.
A souvenir from her childhood in this terrible situation.
A smile spread on her face when she saw him, somehow this gave her hope. Her heart sank when she saw the grim expression on his face though.
In his hand he held a big mallet, and the other hand was filled with pointy, rusty, discarded nails. They were bent and used, dirty.

“No, please .. Please, I ...”
She couldn't remember his name, but she knew it was him. He kneeled at one of her hands. She knew for sure, this was him. They used to look for leaves, and pretend they were ancient medicine.
He bent over her hand. They use to fight like cats and dogs, only to end up eating their home made lunches together.
He put the nail on the back of her hand, and gave it a firm smash, ripping through the skin and crackling the bone it met.
He circled around her, and walked to the other hand. The sudden silence in the crowd was unsettling, As far as she could see, there were people. But nobody talked, and there wasn't the soft shuffling sound of people moving.
He was that guy that shared his icecream with her, although she never shared hers with him, she knew him! But what was his name?
He kneeled down at her other hand.

“You...”
She didn't remember him being this old. She first thought he had thick dark hair, but looking now it was white and grey. It was thin, and a bald spot was shining through on the back.
He gave the second nail a firm smash. Now she screamed.

The piercing pain her cry and yelp, whimpering as she came to her senses. Her intense struggle was shaking the blade above her, and she could almost feel the cold thin edge pressing on her throat.
She felt the warm blood seeping off her hand, and saw it disappear into the cracks between the planks. All the blood that had been spilled here before had tainted the wood with a deep dark red, nearly brown.

He walked over to one of her feet.
She didn't remember him being this tubby either. She remembered a toned body, a greek sculpture with full lips and sultry eyes.
The more she stared at the man, the more it dawned on her that he wasn't who she thought he was. He had a thin stern line where his lips shood be, and his hooded eyes looked sad but angry.
He drove a nail in her foot, sticking it to the wooden boards.

She was exhausted. Sobbing, trembling, and jerking around, she started caring less and less about the dangerous steel above her.
He definately was the guy that did all those things with her, even as he seemed to change infront of her eyes she knew it had been him.
He was older than she thought he had been. Maybe even by thirty years.

The crowd started their group mumbling again when he had secured her last limb to the wood. Pinned down like a butterfly, he positioned himself behind her.
Her firm bum was sticking up in the air proudly, luring him in with their plump flesh and the warm glow from former beatings.
He dropped his slacks and took out his meaty cock.
With one hand he guided it to her slippery hole that, despite the abuse, had been quite eager and made sure of an easy passage way.

She moaned and relaxed, this was the last one. No more in line after this.
His pounding didn't let her overthink her luck for a long time, and her hair bounced to his rythm. Her back was covered in the cum of at least half of the men that came using her.
He ground the head of his cock over her g-spot. She moaned, and her restless hips started moving to accomodate him. Faster and faster she was reaching her peak, and faster and faster he pounded her.

Her tits were scraping over the splinterly floor, leaving thin tracks of blood, some as thin as a hair. She was cumming, she could feel it build up from the core.
Like a musical crescendo it intensified and she took a last look at the man, as her pussy contracted and convulsed, milking his cock as he spent himself inside of her as well. Waves of burning hot sex pleasure crashed over her. The blade was rambling in its constraints, and the rope keeping it up was slowly slipping loose.
She felt his hot seed bubbling up inside of her without escaping as his still swollen throbbing cock plugged her up tightly.

“D-dad?”