Punishment Most Severe

A PLACE OF EXECUTION

Part 2

The officer thought for a few moments, then walked slowly towards Marie. He stopped in front of the suspended girl about six feet away. He looked, impassively at the tortured girl's body, his eyes coming to rest on the red and swollen breasts which quivered as she sobbed from fear and pain.

"We will continue with the breasts", he said, dispassionately. Then he walked behind her to the wall, where hung the awful array of instruments of torture. He surveyed the dozens of implements for half a minute or so. Eventually he decided on the whips which would be used next to lash the young woman. He took two leather bound crops from their hooks. They were identical. About three and a half feet in length, their handles were three-quarters of an inch thick and they tapered to fine points. He swished one through the air, testing its suitability for the task to come. He handed the whips to his hooded henchmen. "Continue", he said. "Thirty."

Marie's eyes opened wide in horror as the two men walked to the front of her. Her sobs turned to pitiful pleas for mercy. The thought of these crops lashing her already punished breasts was unthinkable. She would surely die, she thought.

The torturers took up their positions once more, similar to the positions they took for the first phase but a little further back to allow for the length of the rods. This was the third 'execution' they had carried out in this place and was turning out to be by far the most enjoyable. They both liked the feel and the sounds of their whips and rods as they struck that most tender flesh. And they knew well the sensitivity of those parts of a woman's body. This was where the pain was most severe and for that reason it was always a favourite method for extracting information from women. Often, their will would be broken even with the suggestion of such punishment, and of those who were brave enough to stay silent, ninety percent were begging to talk after only a few lashes. But Marie did not have that choice. There could be no escape for her. No option to talk, to tell them all she knew. That was the real horror for her. While the thought of capture and even torture had crossed her mind, she always thought she would have the choice to avoid pain by telling all she knew. She had never thought of this, even in her worst nightmares.

The men waited once more for the subtle signal to come, their eyes on their target, the voluptuous breasts of the young woman. The officer gave a nod. Marie was alert again after the short respite. She wailed a pitiful plea for mercy. The crop held by the man to her right swished through the warm air and her plea turned into a scream. She tried to pull herself back and twist to avoid the crop. The effort was to no avail and awesome force the leather bound rod struck her full across both breasts about an inch above the top of the aureoles. It sunk deep into the soft, swollen flesh, disappearing from view at the places where the flesh was fullest. The rod then sprung back as the resilient flesh of the girls glands took their former shape, bouncing and quivering wildly from the force of the lash. The pain of the lash across her already red and swollen bosom could hardly be imagined, but her reaction gave a clue. It was hard to believe she could remain conscious. The scream which began before the rod struck, was abruptly cut off.

These people were experts indeed. They knew exactly what they were doing. There was nothing arbitrary about their actions. The variation of the whips, the movement between areas of her body were all calculated to prolong the punishment. They knew too, that a woman's breasts could be severely tortured for a long period of time, creating great agony to the victim, but without being fatal. Many of the onlookers were astonished (many excited at the same time) at the coldness, the calculation and the methodology of the procedure. There was no anger here, no passionate indiscriminate beating. There was a job to be done and the objectives were clear.

And if the lashing of Marie's back was agony, this was much worse. The implements of torture lashed into her very womanhood tearing waves of agony through her whole body. It was if her very soul was being ravaged. Her body was stretched taught, her face to the sky and the agonized cry chilled even the more hardened of the witnesses. The second lash of the crop hissed then struck heavily into her orbs, once more directly across the ravaged nipples. It was too much for the resilient flesh to withstand. With the previous lashes having struck that area of her left aureole so many times, weakening the fiber of the skin, her nipple split and when the crop fell away, her blood oozed copiously from the wound, trickling down the underside of her breast in a rivulet to end soaking into the torn remnants of her petticoat around her waist. Marie emitted gut wrenching scream in response to the incredible pain of the mutilation. The hooded executioner looked to his master, wondering if, perhaps, he had gone too far at this stage of the proceedings. There was no change in the expression of the officer.

The man to her right continued, but it seemed he had taken account of the effect of the previous lash and his crop landed higher, above the aureoles, into flesh a little less ravaged. The soft tissue enveloped the thin rod once more, absorbing all of its energy and its pain. It was odd to many who had not seen such a thing before that the noise of the contact of crop with skin, was not louder and sharper given the ferocity with which the blows were applied. The other man took heed of his partners aim and he too avoided the nipples with his next. His lash struck lower, though, below the big aureoles, towards the undersides of the girl's heavy globes, lifting them upwards with its force.

How many lashes had been applied so far? No one knew, for it mattered not. The final number would simply be a function of the girl's strength and the skill of her torturers to prolong the execution. Two hundred? Three hundred? At this stage no one could guess.

One officer in the audience held a cine camera which was pointed at the scene before him. In his lap were extra films. The whirr of his camera was drowned by Marie's screams as the crops continued their ferocious lashing of her tender breasts. Stripes darker and more fiery than those left by the less damaging straps sprung up across the flesh. The skin was cut in a few places though none of these was as deep as the one across her left nipple. The men did not even give her the relative respite of striking her abdomen. All lashes were aimed deliberately at her precious and vulnerable breasts being beaten barbarically. There was not to be even a hint of mercy for the innocent girl.

"Stop", came the call from the officer. It seemed only he was counting. The relentless flogging stopped and the semi conscious girl slumped in her ropes. The two men stepped back a few yards from the frame. Blood oozed from several cuts on Marie's scarlet breasts and trickled down her body. She groaned and gulped in great breaths of air. Her head hung, her chin resting on her chest. The officer in charge approached her once more.

"Bring smelling salts and a bucket of water", he ordered. His men went to the wall to fetch the things required. The officer walked up to Marie and lifted he head up, his hand under her chin. With his other gloved hand, he lifted open her left eyelid to examine her pupils. He stepped back.

"Administer the salts", he said, "And freshen her up with the water."

One of the men, holding a tiny bottle, approached Marie and held the bottle under her nose. There was no reaction for a few seconds, then suddenly she jerked her head away as the powerful odour filled her nostrils. She straightened her head and looked around her. Without warning, the other man threw the contents of a large bucket of water over her face and chest. She gasped and choked as some water entered her mouth, then cried out as she became fully aware again of the pain across her body.

The officer watched the reviving of his victim impassively. "Very well", he stated after a minute or so, "We can proceed."

Though the voyeurs in their seats were truly sadistic, for who else could witness such a scene and not intervene, none had been forced to attend the spectacle. But theirs paled into insignificance compared to sadism of this officer. Or perhaps it was not sadism. Perhaps the man truly obtained no pleasure from the torture he was controlling. Maybe he was simply so passionate about his beliefs that he simply believed what he was doing was right. That individuals, no matter who they were deserved to suffer incredible torture for the actions they took. And that even one so clearly innocent, so vulnerable, so young made no difference to that principle. Who could know? The man's cruelty was only matched by his inscrutability.

He had walked again to his toolshop to choose, carefully the horrible weapon which would bring the next phase of indescribable agony to the young Frenchwoman. It took him 30 seconds or so before he decided. The anticipation was tangible.

"I think," he said coldly, "That it time for the cats. In moderation, of course", he added.

He grasped two heavy black, thonged whips from their hooks in the wall, weighing them as he turned back towards the frame. He brought them to the front of the construction to which Marie was bound so that she could see them.

"These", he said, "Are classic whips, perhaps the best known and most dreaded. They have been used for many centuries to inflict punishment."

Marie's eyes gaped in new horror as the sight of them. "Your generous breasts will have the opportunity to feel these", he said, "But for now, they will be applied to your back."

He handed the heavy whips to the men. "A total of twenty to the back!", he ordered.

The hooded helpers grasped the heavy whips and moved to the back of the frame. Her energy sapped, Marie didn't scream as her torturers moved to their positions. She let out a pitiful moan and a plea for mercy. "Nooooooo.....please, please, no more ...I beg you.....". The men stood ready, towering over the girl. The heavy whips, used so often in times gone by for the severest of punishments in the navy and army would surely destroy the already lash marked back of this tender girl. But the sight of her slender whip marked back and her pathetic pleas made not even a tiny impact on the brutes. If anything, her weakness only fuelled their barbarity. It was what they wanted. The signal came and the man behind her right shoulder drew back his cat o' nine tails. The swish of the heavy leather thongs through the air had a lower tone than the previous whips. The loud 'thwack' as the leather struck her back was awesome. The force propelled her whole body forward to the limits of her bonds and her muscles. The air was expelled from her lungs, her head flew back. Marie gasped in air after a few moments then screamed as the incredible pain seared across her back. The heavy thongs had struck the middle of her narrow back, creating bright red stripes which spread over a band of perhaps six inches. Upon the already red and tender flesh, the pain was unthinkable. But her skin was not broken. It was hard to believe she did not pass out. But she did not. She was young and strong, a strength which at this moment was not a blessing. Her torturers would, at this stage of the punishment of an older or weaker person, have been struggling to keep them conscious.

The second lash of the cat was delivered higher, across her shoulder blades. She had braced herself better for this one, tensing her muscles in anticipation of the terrible blow. The loud 'THWACK' echoed again around the courtyard. Marie shrieked like a banshee once more as the pain ripped through her body. The eyes of the audience were transfixed on the almost unreal scene being played out before them. Some men groped themselves, some were absolutely still. A young woman visibly tensed each time a lash struck its target. The flogging continued, slowly and relentlessly. A gap of some eight or so seconds elapsed between each powerful stroke allowing Marie to recover a little and to ensure she absorbed the pain of each lash before the next struck. The powerful whips, designed for the strong backs of sailors and soldiers continued to descend upon the soft flesh of the helpless girl.

The barbaric event continued, relentlessly, without compassion. The heavy whips began to open up ragged cuts in the back of the helpless, tortured girl. Her flesh was now being damaged beyond full repair. If she were to have lived beyond this experience, she would have to bear the scars for life. Her screams were now diminishing in intensity as the onslaught weakened her. She hung limp from the ropes around her wrists from which blood also trickled from the severe chafing, her head slumped forward now. Lash sixteen of the cats bit deep into her lower back, cutting a deeper welt into the softer flesh at her left side. The seventeenth left her mercifully unconscious and unable to feel the eighteenth which struck diagonally from her right shoulder to above her left buttock. Her lack of reaction was the signal for the torture to stop.

"More salts and cold water," ordered the officer, plainly annoyed at this interruption to the proceedings. The men obeyed, fetching the required materials for reviving their prisoner to a state of full consciousness and awareness so that she could continue to experience the living hell which they were intent on continuing. The powerful smelling salts were thrust under her nose. It took another few seconds for Marie to revive, the pungent odour pervading her nostrils and sinuses and causing her to cough and choke. She jerked her head away from the stinging vapour. Her other assailant then drenched her half ruined back with another pail of cold water. She gasped and shrieked at this new attack on her agonised flesh. Her groans began again as the awful pain returned. It had been thirty five minutes now since the start of her ordeal. Thirty five minutes of an experience more terrible than her worst visions of hell. And the worst horror was to know that it would continue until she died. Her once flawless body was being methodically destroyed by the whips of these men. What was to be next? She had not long to wait to know. The officer was already inspecting the array of weapons once more. Her terror returned to its full magnitude as she realized that if the pattern continued, they would return to work on her breasts. She looked down, pathetically, at her cut and bruised tits, the precious manifestations of her womanhood. Much larger than normal now, swollen by the beating, red with purple welts across their fuller parts and throbbing painfully. She knew that more punishment would begin to destroy them beyond recovery. The lashing of those parts of her body was worse than that to her back both because of the incredible pain and because she felt it was destroying her very femininity.

The officer had picked his new tools. He knew that despite her youth and the resilience of her flesh, the heavy cats would not take long to destroy her breasts. He chose instead slender, willow rods about four feet in length which could, if used skillfully, flay and remove only the top layer of skin. They would be ruined eventually, he knew. The resilient flesh would be broken down by the number and force of the lashes and begin to expose the fibrous tissue beneath. At that stage the fat and the delicate tissue beneath and the milk ducts would quickly be demolished until the milk glands themselves were exposed. At that point, sensitivity would be all but gone, replaced by the mental agony of the certainty of disfigurement, mutilation and the destruction of a part of her which made her a woman.

The officer handed the rods to the executioners. From their half inch thick leather bound handles, they tapered evenly along their length, to fine points. The faceless men strode purposefully to their now familiar positions in front of Marie. She wailed in horror and despair in anticipation of the new pain to come as they appeared before her. She pulled pathetically on her ropes, the muscles of her arms and stomach standing out as she strained against the bindings at wrists and ankles, only to sag limply again as the strength failed her. They had strung the innocent girl up like a piece of meat. They viewed her with neither compassion nor pity but only as an object to work on, from which to obtain the response they sought from the brutal application of their punishment. Her chest heaved, the magnificent, round breasts rising and falling, quivering with terror. Like over-ripe heavy fruits ready to burst. In their present state, watchers believed that the thin rods coupled with the power of these strong men, would surely slice right though the flesh of the girl's tender globes. They waited in cruel anticipation for the next lashes which would determine the reality and tell them more about the response of the female body to such abuse.

Marie's anguished wail continued as the men positioned themselves before her, analyzing the tortured body of their victim and assessing how and where to lay their rods. The one to her right made the first move again. His eyes were fixed on the middle of her chest. He drew back his arm and the wail grew in pitch as the rod swished forwards in a horizontal arc. The sound was of a loud but muffled 'smack' as the willow bit deep, deep into the centers of both breasts, bisecting the swollen aureoles. The flesh, though firmed by the swelling, retained sufficient softness that the full flesh again enveloped the thin rod as its force divided the breast meat on either side of it, the power being absorbed by the full flesh until its travel was halted by the rib cage beneath. The heavy, vulnerable gourds must surely split in half, thought many as they watched in awe. But they did not. The still resilient tissue sprang back into its former shape, pushing the willow away, the breasts shuddering and wobbling under the savage lash. Another gut-wrenching scream from the innocent girl's throat rent the air. A one inch stripe, a brighter red than the surrounding colour appeared across her breasts, interrupted by the cleft between them. Her right nipple had been struck a direct hit and was split further open. The previous seepage of blood became a slow steady, trickle, which ran down the underside of her breast and belly to further darken the ripped blouse hanging from her waist. Marie's whole body tensed again and she pulled and tugged fiercely at her bindings, the automatic reaction was to pull her arms down to protect her brutalised bosom but she only succeeded in straining the muscles in her arms and increasing the force on her bound wrists.

The monster to her left then took his turn, lashing his thin rod with his left arm again into the fullest parts of Marie's bosom. The left one took the majority of the energy of the stroke. The supple switch sunk deep into the flesh again, just below the nipple, its tip wrapping itself around the curve of the right one. THWACK! She shrieked in agony again.

"Wait!", shouted the officer. He approached the men. "More subtlety is required, gentlemen", he said calmly. He looked coldly at Marie's chest, pointing with his stubby finger. "I want the skin removed from the girl's breasts with these rods. Begin at the top and work downwards. I will tell you when to stop."

The completion of the command would require a good deal more skill but they were well versed in the use of all of these tools. They talked briefly with each other for a few moments in low tones which no-one present could hear, then the man who had been to the girl's right took up a position more directly in front of her while the other retired a few paces, to take no part for the time being. The torturer in front of Marie took a few seconds to evaluate his strategy, before raising his rod once more. This time, he sliced the weapon into the top of the left side of her left breast, but as the rod approached the flesh, he pulled it back slightly almost with a flick, instead of simply following through as before. It bit less deep this time, but instead, as the watchers could see as the rod fell away, drew a thin, horizontal line of blood some four inches in length along the side of the full flesh of her tit. He waited less time than previously before making the same stroke again, only this time a fraction of an inch below the previous lash. Another thin line of blood was drawn, just below the first. By the time the third open cut was visible, the spectators could see the pattern and the plan. The left end of the fourth, biting cut just touched the right edge of her wide left aureole, its right end cut into her flank where the side of her breast met her upper ribs.

The new strokes continued relentlessly downwards. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen were to the lower part of Marie's brutalised breast and above the last lash, the whole side was raw and bleeding. When the brute's lashes reached the lower part of the breast, he stopped for a moment, then moved to a position slightly further to Marie's right. Then he began the process again, this time lashing the willow rod across the front of her breast at the same height as the first lash to the left side. The girl's screams became higher pitched still as the lashes moved slowly downwards towards her ravaged nipple. The tenth and eleventh lashes bit into the dark aureole above her nipple. The next struck full into her tender bud itself and she shrieked out in indescribable pain as the skin was flayed from the erect nipple. She lapsed once more into merciful unconsciousness. The hooded man looked to his superior but this time received no sign to stop. He turned back to his task and made his next lash immediately below the limp girl's nipple. There was no response from the young woman as proceeded to complete the flaying of her left breast with six more biting strokes. It was strange to hear the 'THWACK' of each one striking the soft flesh without the agonized screams which normally followed. The punishment stopped and the courtyard was silent apart from the laboured breathing of the unconscious girl.

The spectators shuffled around in their seats, some murmuring quietly to one another, the tension having been alleviated for the moment. This was more brutal than even the more hardened of them had witnessed before.

Blood now oozed and seeped from many places on Marie's raw left breast. Most of the upper layer of epidermis had been stripped away by the scourging of the willow rod. The man who had been resting while his cohort carried out the last phase now fetched more water in a bucket from next to the courtyard wall. He brought it back and threw its contents over Marie's face and chest. The limp girl slowly regained her senses once again and as the pain and the reality of her terrible situation returned, she moaned and sobbed in terror and despair. As she looked at the rows of observers, their eyes still fixed on her, some seemed impassive to her agony and her plight; some, strangely looked sympathetic, even embarrassed to be there. She realized that she was still alive; that the nightmare was not over; that she would have to endure more. More agony, more mutilation - the humiliation had long become irrelevant. She recovered her balance and took the weight off her shoulders and wrists by standing once more on her toes. Could she summon some remaining strength, she thought, to continue and to die with some dignity? She was going to try, at least, she thought. In spite of the inhumanity of her executioners and their desire to destroy her pride and her womanhood.

"The cats once more!", ordered the officer. "Front and back, simultaneously", he added coldly.

The orders sapped her will. Oh God, she thought. How could she summon the wherewithal and the strength to salvage some dignity now. They were going to flog her tortured body again with these most savage of instruments. Her torn back, but worst of all, her front was to be torn to shreds now by the heaviest of their whips. It was unthinkable, impossible. At least now, she hoped, she would pass away in some minutes from the ferocity of the punishment to be free of this horror for ever. Marie prepared herself for the end. She would try, at least, to maintain some pride, summon some last vestiges of resistance. "Vive La France", she whispered quietly, "Give me strength".

The executioners had fetched their heavy cats o' nine tails and stood ready, the right handed of them at her rear, the left handed at her front. The whips hung heavy in their strong grips, the last seven or eight inches of their thick leather thongs lying on the paving stones of the courtyard. Marie had not been able to see them clearly before. they looked so evil, so black, so heavy. And now their power would be applied to her agonized breasts as well as her lacerated back. Despair, hopelessness enveloped her>

"Nooooooooooooooo!!!!", she wailed with her last ounces of energy, ashamed of her weakness. "Have mercy, I can't take more......I beg.....please.....please........."

Success gleamed in the officer's eyes, though his expression was unchanged. It was how he wanted it to be. There was to be no dignity for this enemy of the Third Reich He, too, knew this might well be the final phase.

"Proceed!", he commanded.

The brute to her rear was first to strike, the one who had, only minutes before, stripped the skin from her precious breast with the rod. He pulled the heavy thongs back over his right shoulder, then, with all his might, swung the savage whip forwards. There was a loud and ominous 'THWAP' as the thick leather strands made contact with Marie's bloody back, just below her shoulder blades. The ends curled around her right side and bit into her ribs. Her head flew back , her mouth opened wide and a scream of pain, albeit less strong than her earlier response, erupted from her throat. Some ten seconds elapsed and then there was the low 'SWISH' of the second torturer's cat flying through the dry, warm air. She opened her tear-filled eyes in time to see the terrible whip flying towards her tortured breasts. Her eyes closed tight. The leather thongs spread wide across the expanse of her tortured tits, biting deep, deep into the swollen and bleeding flesh, squashing and flattening the resilient masses against her chest in a way which no other substance known to man would react. For an instant, the flesh bulged out like a deformed balloon, above and below the six inch wide band of savage contact. And when the thongs fell away, the ravaged orbs shuddered and bounced wildly for some seconds such was the force of the blow. The agony of hell. This was the worst Marie's young body had yet endured. A gut wrenching wail of pure pain was emitted from her wide open mouth.

The same young female officer who been hiding her feelings of shock could not avoid letting out a small shriek of horror as the lash struck home but loud enough to be heard, even through Marie's scream, by the commanding officer. He glowered at the woman and she shrank back in fear doing her utmost to conceal her shock. Had he cats o'nine tails, in their history of use ever been used in such a sadistic and barbaric way before, she wondered. Applied with the full ferocity of a powerful man to the defenseless, tender breasts of any woman, let alone a girl not yet a score of years in age. Who could know. She could not even begin to imagine such torture applied to her own ample bosom. She had never in her life imagined such sadistic savagery and had never thought that this spectacle she had been tempted to witness could be so terrible. She silently prayed for the execution to reach it's conclusion quickly. Even as the thoughts ran through her mind, the second powerful lash struck the girl's back, lower this time, at the level of the kidneys. Its force propelled her forward, at least as far as her tight bonds would allow. Her back arched, her body stretched to the limits of her aching muscles and of the taught ropes which had held her immobile for last hour and a half, while her torturers had inflicted their barbaric punishment on her tender body. Another piercing screech of agony burst from her lips. They let another ten seconds passed until the scream had ebbed away and her body had become relatively static, before the next lash, to her front again was launched. To her front? It was merely code for the breasts, now enormous, perhaps half again as large as their former size, from the beating they had endured. Had she been smaller in the bust, perhaps they would have spread the lashes over her belly. But for Marie, the two targets were simply too obvious to be ignored, even once. And, too, they knew from her reactions that this was the way she suffered most. The nine coarse and heavy leather thongs smacked ferociously into the fullest part of her bosom. The force with which the executioner had swung the whip had kept the thongs closer together this time and the band of contact was narrower, some five or so inches broad. Accuracy was not a requirement with these tools; brute strength was all that was required. Both breasts were smashed, again, into her chest. It was too much for the vulnerable skin, stretched tight over the swollen right breast. The ravaged and tenderized skin split in a number of places. The dam burst and blood oozed freely from the multiple cuts. Marie screamed in pure agony as her blood flowed from her ruined breast and ran in rivulets down her belly. The hopelessness and inevitability of it all was as awful for her as the pain. Her chest heaved as she fought for breath after the long scream had ended. Could anyone imagine a scene so cruel and so sadistic? And for what reason? Because of her so called 'crime' against these people? Surely not, despite the earlier rhetoric. Because she was the enemy or a demonstration of power? Less likely still. For their pleasure, because of her innocence, her vulnerability, her youth? Maybe it was these things for some. She would never know, never understand.

Suddenly, as the executioner to her rear swung his whip back to impart the next lash, the sound of many motorised vehicles could be heard speeding towards the remote coachhouse. The man froze listening to the growing noise of the many engines. He lowered his cat o' nine tails and listened more as did all of those present. The officers in the audience turned to each other, agitated, and surprised. Moments later, seven armoured vehicles laden with SS troops roared into the courtyard, encircling the area where the execution was taking place. The soldiers, some thirty of them surrounded the shocked people, their arms at the ready. There was silence for a minute. A senior SS officer got out of the lead car, his lugar in hand, pointing at the officer who had leading the proceedings.

"This is utter barbarity, Hauptmann", he shouted, clearly familiar with the officer who now paled with horror. "It is completely illegal under our constitution and laws", he added. "You will all face court martial, and I will ensure you pay heavily for this atrocity." He beckoned to his men. "Untie the girl", he ordered, "And take her immediately to receive medical treatment." Four soldiers moved quickly to Marie and began to release her carefully from the frame.

He turned back to Hauptmann. "For your sake", he said, "She had better live. Otherwise it will be a firing squad for you." Hauptmann became whiter still, unable to summon words to respond.

"Arrest them all and take them back to headquarters in Paris. We will deal with them there", concluded the SS officer.

As the first car left with Marie for a hospital, the audience was rounded up at gunpoint to be taken to Paris for trial.

EPILOGUE

Marie did survive, physically , at least. Mentally, of course, she would never heal. All members of the audience that day were discharged dishonorably from service. Despite the fact that his innocent prisoner survived, Hauptmann was executed by firing squad a few days later, secretly and without fuss in a small wood on the outskirts of Paris.

THE END