The ‘Online BATS Re-enactment Society’ 2009


“It’s been some time since we could get the medieval re-enactment village going again” said John.  “Yes” said Steve, “it was last held in 2005, 4 years ago.”  “Well it’s good that enough members of the ‘Online BATS Re-enactment Society’ worked together, and we can stage another one tonight.  New members will be here in a few minutes.  Any ‘suitable’ candidates?” said John.  “I do believe there are”, said Steve, “particularly a mother and daughter who are quite avid BATS fans.  They’ve been told that this is just a medieval re-enactment, and that stakes will be in place, and wood piled around them, just for authenticity.  They quite happily believed that, and were looking forward to seeing a full stake set-up for burning a witch.”  “Well, we can’t disappoint them, then” said John, “I think we’ve found our victims for today.  I’ve just got to work out the last details in my mind…”


35 year-old Angela and her 18 year-old daughter Helen were quite excited about going to the medieval re-enactment.  The two were very much in tune with each other, Angela having more than a passing interest in the occult, and Helen, once fully aware of her mother’s great interest in the ‘darker’ side of nature, espoused the idea of modern witchcraft with gusto, while studying in great detail and intense interest the ‘burning times’ and how a lot of girls were ultimately treated back then.  Her fixation with girls from those times being burned at the stake concerned her mother at first, but as time passed she realised it was something that captured her interest, and Angela also read more and more about those times.  Both were helped by what was available on the internet, and this interest led them both to a ‘burning at the stake’ website, which naturally focused on young girls being burned at the stake.  Helen delighted in showing her mother the new stories and photo manipulations that appeared on the site on a regular basis, and both confessed to each other that there WAS a certain eroticism about seeing a female chained to a stake with a fire rising to burn her.  And so it was, as a result of the contacts they had made on the website, and the arrangements they had received about the event, that they both set out that day, looking their best, to attend the re-enactment on a warm, dry, summer’s day.


Upon arriving at the event, deep in a forest, Angela and Helen were greeted by the main hosts, Steve and John, who explained the re-enactment scene, and that they were in good company, as those attending had similar interests to theirs.  They quickly mingled with other guests for a few minutes before Helen spotted a stake at the perimeter of where the event was taking place.  Curious, with her heart beating a little faster, she asked if she could take a look at it.  “Of course you can” said Steve, “it’s there to add realism to our surroundings.  You go off with John and a couple of others and they’ll show you the stake, and your mother can come with me while I explain a few more things.”  Helen needed no further prompting, and set off with John and two other members towards the stake as Steve accompanied Angela into one of the large tents near to the stake.


“You’ve set it up completely, haven’t you?” said Helen inquisitively when she arrived at the stake.  “A stout wooden stake, plenty of wood around its base, a well-positioned platform, and even chains in place for the victim.”  “Well, we do like to go for the authentic touch” said one of the members, assuredly.  Helen ran her hands over the thicker pieces of wood part way up the pyre, enjoying every moment of doing so.  “Could I climb up the ladder and see what it’s like from the top?”  “Certainly, Helen, be our guest” said John.  So Helen climbed the ladder resting against the wood at the front of the stake.  When she reached the platform, she said “This feels really high, and looking down, there seems to be a hell of a lot of wood below.”  She then turned and stood with her back to the stake.  “Wow, this is really close to how the actual scenario must have appeared” she said.  “Well, not quite, Helen.  You’re still free.  The victim would have been chained to the stake, as you know.” said John.  The thought flashed through Helen’s mind in an instant, and before she could stop herself, she said, “Well, could you chain me to the stake so I can experience what it was like exactly.”


Meanwhile, in the tent, Steve explained, among other things, that the highlight of the afternoon was one member, who was hooded, being led to the stake and being guided with a blazing torch in her hand to light the wood around the stake.  As it was Angela’s first time at the event, would she like to be the one to light the fire?  Angela saw nothing wrong with the request, and not wishing to disappoint Steve, agreed to do so.  “But Helen and myself are not properly dressed for this event” said Angela.  “Shouldn’t we be dressed in medieval clothing?”  “Don’t worry about that” said Steve, a few first-timers are more comfortable not dressing in the period costume, but they get into the swing of things at future events.  You look just fine as you are.”  And Angela did, in her tight-fitting white blouse, short skirt and matching jacket, and fetching high heels.


At the stake, Helen stood passively with her back to the stake as John drew the first chain around her waist, passed it to one of the others behind the stake, who then pulled it tightly around the stake and passed it forward again.  Helen gasped as the chain was pulled tightly, but secretly loved the sensation.  John then pulled the ends of the chain in a criss-cross fashion between Helens breasts, the chain biting into the tight white top that Helen was wearing, and passed them over her shoulders, where they were taken again and drawn to the back of the stake and securely held together by a small padlock.  Helen was now chained to the stake from the waist upwards.  John then took her wrists and guided them behind the stake, and they were similarly secured, this time with a pair of handcuffs.  “Of course” said John, “a witch chained like this would be able to kick her legs out, and try to kick the wood away from her, so her legs would also be fastened.  I think we should chain your legs as well.”  Without further ado, a chain was passed round to the front of the stake, and John gently lifted the hem of Helen’s mini skirt, pulled the chain tight around the top of her thighs and passed the ends to the back of the stake.  Once there the chain was pulled tight and padlocked, while John carefully lowered the front of Helen’s skirt.  He then knelt down and, taking hold of her ankles and high-heeled shoes, positioned them together before taking the last chain from the rear of the stake.  He drew it to the front, and then wrapped it once around Helen’s slim ankles before passing it behind the stake again, and that too was secured by a padlock.  Helen’s heart was beating fast as she was now totally chained and helpless at the stake, but she was aroused like never before.  “Witches in medieval times about to be burned at the stake never wore any underwear, obviously, so I think we need to remove yours for the sake of authenticity, don’t you?” said John.  Before Helen could reply John raised her skirt, slowly tugged at her skimpy panties, and ripped them away from her, allowing plenty of time for his fingers to brush against her already-moist fanny lips as he did so –her obvious arousal a most pleasant surprise for both of them.  John then mentioned in a matter-of-fact manner that in a couple of minutes a small ceremony would take place simulating the lighting of the witch’s fire – would she like to remain in place was this was done?  She agreed, willingly, as that would heighten the pleasure she was already feeling at being chained.  She looked down at what seemed to be an enormous amount of wood and imagined flames rising through the wood to burn her at the stake…


Steve casually looked out of the tent and saw that Helen was fully chained to the stake.  “I think the ceremony is ready to start, so we’ll put this simple hood over your head, and I’ll guide you to the stake” he said.  Slipping the hood over Angela’s head, he took her arm and led her from the tent and slowly walked her to the front of the stake.  Helen saw her and was slightly amused that her mother was going to carry out the other part of the ‘fake’ ceremony.


Angela, blindfolded at the edge of the stake, was still unaware that her daughter Helen was chained to the stake.  “You will now light the ceremonial fire.” John whispered to her.  “The pleas you may hear are one of our company trying to make things more realistic.  Like an executioner in olden times, ignore the pleas, and light a fire in the wood.  I will place the torch in your hands, and guide you as to where to place it.”  And so John led Angela gently by the arm to the front of the pyre, and then Steve handed the torch to John.  John placed the torch in Angela’s hands and said “hold on tightly to it as it is, you don’t want it leaning backwards into you.  You can feel the heat from it quite well, can’t you?  Now lean forward and hold the front downwards towards the floor.  That’s right, now just push it a little further.”  Angela followed John’s instructions and pushed the torch into the kindling wood at the base of the pyre.  John held her hands firmly and made sure the wood was well alight.  At this point Helen said that the ceremony was done, and can they now release her from her chains.  John whispered to Angela that Helen was at the stake, and the hood would be removed from her head in a few seconds.  What he really meant was that time would be given for the fire to take a hold on the wood before Angela could see what she had done, and that her daughter was not only at the stake, but was actually chained to it.  In a matter of seconds as flames moved easily and quickly through the kindling wood, Helen was pleading not to be burned at the stake, and begging to be released, but no one paid any heed to her frantic calls for help.


The hood covering Angela’s head was finally removed, and as she blinked in the sunlight, a scene of nightmarish proportions greeted her.  “No!” Angela screamed as she saw her daughter chained to the stake and flames in the wood beneath her getting stronger every second.  “Stop it, stop it!  You must stop burning her now!” she pleaded.  “But you are the one who lit the fire beneath her.  You are the one who will now watch as the flames reach your daughter and burn her alive as she stands chained as one with the stake.” said John.  “No I won’t” said Angela angrily, but with John holding one arm, and Steve the other, struggling was in vain.  They stood close enough to feel the heat from the fire now, as Helen sobbed quietly at the top of the pyre, smoke drifting gently around her captive body as she did so.  Helen looked down, and her thoughts of a few minutes ago were now a reality: flames were rising through the wood towards her.  She could see it, through the smoke that was now swirling up around her body and drifting over her face.  While fearful that she would be burned at the stake, Helen’s arousal was in no way diminished.  Although it was Helen at the stake, Angela couldn’t stop herself from looking at her daughter about to be burned alive.  She was entranced by the flames getting stronger and beginning to work their way up the wood at the base of the pyre and on to the larger slabs of wood that would carry the fire up to her daughter.  She admitted to herself that she loved the sound of the wood crackling loudly as it burned, and the smell of burning wood which now pervaded her senses.  She could see the eroticism of the scene, and she felt ashamed of herself for even thinking it in the first place.  But it would not leave her thoughts, and she remained completely passive and stood transfixed gazing at her daughter at the stake as first John ran his free hand gently over one of her breasts, and then Steve ran his hand up her inside of her thigh, past the hem of her short skirt, and upon reaching the top of her thighs, was pleasantly surprised to find that Angela was already moist with being turned on by the burning scene unfolding before her.  There was nothing Angela could do – she had to give in to her feelings completely.  Her mind fought against the darkest fantasy that she could imagine, that of willing the fire to reach her daughter and burn her alive.  She was already imagining flames reaching Helen and setting her shoes and feet alight, flames sensuously licking at her daughter’s naked fanny, flames curling around and over her firm breasts, her mane of blond hair igniting and sending flames swirling all around her face.  She was thinking all of these things, and try as she might, she could not get them out of her head.


In the late afternoon warmth of a summer’s day, the fire was losing no time in spreading through the wood, and rising from the kindling to light the larger pieces of wood in place higher up the pyre.  Sparks leapt and danced around Helen as the heat became oppressive and then unbearable.  “Oh God, mother, please get them to stop, please!  Oh, oh, no!”  Helen was not going to give them the screams and shouting they obviously wanted.  She was going to suppress all of that if she possibly could, and if she was going to be burned this day, she would burn alive with dignity.  Not realising, of course, that that was exactly what they wanted!


Angela’s eyes had been closed for quite a few seconds, as the caressing of her body continued to give her greater and greater pleasure.  John and Steve moved her back a few paces as the heat from the fire was now intense, even from where they were standing.   When Angela opened her eyes again, she gasped in amazement and excitement at what she saw.  The fire had spread completely around the pyre and flames were leaping up from all sides, but those in the front were higher than elsewhere.  She saw through the shimmering heat haze that the flames were now literally only a few inches from her daughter’s shoes and feet, and Helen was gasping loudly as plumes of smoke drifted around her one second and wafted away the next.  Helen’s face glistened with sweat in the intense heat that now enveloped her, preparing her for the moment when the flames would begin to take her.  The fire was beyond control.  No one could now get close enough to save Helen.  Truth be told, none of the assembled multitude wanted to save her.  They wanted to see this 18 year-old stunning girl burn alive at the stake.  Angela needed no restraint now as the sight of her daughter about to be set on fire had her head reeling with excitement.  She finally gave in to the thought she had been suppressing these last couple of minutes.  Her daughter was going to burn; there was now nothing that could be done to change that.  And so she finally admitted to herself.  She wanted to see her daughter burn.  She wanted to see Helen burning erotically at the stake in a fire that she had lit.  No one else had lit it – it was Angela’s fire, and hers alone.  She wanted to see flames spiralling up her daughter’s young, captive, body.  She wanted to hear her cries of anguish, and gasps, and screams, as the fire lashed unmercifully around both the stake and her daughter.  She hadn’t even fully registered that Steve was now stroking her clit rhythmically, and John was gently fingering her arse.  But as she saw the flames finally reach her daughter and lick around her high-heeled shoes, feet and ankles to set her alight, Angela reached an orgasm the like of which she had never, ever, experienced before.  Wave after orgasmic wave rippled through her body, as Helen’s shoes, feet, ankles and lower legs disappeared in a wave of flames with smoke idly drifting up to disappear inside her mini skirt, which was billowing outwards and then dropping gently back onto her thighs every couple of seconds. Helen had been lit.  She was on fire, burning steadily now, and the fire displayed a hunger both Helen and Angela could never have imagined as it fastened on to her legs and spiralled ever higher, on up to her thighs.  Helen, straining futilely against the chains, finally gave vent to her being set alight and screamed loudly, sobbing all the while.


Then Angela took a few paces forward, moving as close to the fire as she could stand.  She wanted her senses to experience as closely as possible all that she was seeing and feeling.  The heat from the fire now burning Helen; the sound of the wood burning and her daughter’s forlorn cries of anguish as she burned; the smell of the wood burning, and now the smell of her own daughter burning with it; and to feel the smoke from the fire drifting around her and let it pervade her nostrils and cover her in its smoky aroma.


Standing as close as possible, she looked up and saw the flames spiralling up Helen’s shapely legs and, having reached her thighs, saw the hem of Helen’s pleated mini skirt burst into flames and in a matter of seconds it was gone.  Angela watched almost with lust as the flames reached the top of Helen’s thighs and began to lick between the top of her legs.  Almost involuntarily, Angela slid a hand up her skirt, placed a finger on her clit, and started to caress herself.  Slowly at first, but then she began to gently buck her thighs, hardly noticing that Steve had stepped up behind her and was cupping her breasts and caressing her stiff nipples as he did so.  Meanwhile the flames, ferociously devouring Helen’s virgin fanny and curving over and licking out her tight young arse, were looking for more of this delicious girl to burn.  The fire had Helen’s hips in a vice-like grip now as she shook her head from side to side in absolute agony and despair, alternatively gasping and screaming.  Her white top began to scorch and then ignite in the intense heat and flames.  Flames devoured the top quickly to reveal Helen’s beautiful naked breasts, her nipples fully erect, and within seconds, the topmost tongues of flames were licking against the underside of her full breasts, which stood out proudly, almost as an invitation for the flames to take them.  Helen was still gasping and crying out as her breasts succumbed to the torrent of flames flowing all around and between them.  As the flames were reaching her breasts, her shoulder length hair was singeing and slowly beginning to burn away, but errant flames soon ignited her hair, and finally Helen’s head dropped as flames leaping from her breasts crowned her head.  Helen was totally burning at the stake now.


The fire carried on up, several feet above Helen’s head, and continued to grow in intensity, having devoured its young victim.  In front of the stake, Angela was completely intoxicated by what she had seen.  John and Steve quietly sidled up alongside her to lead her away, when Angela turned to them both and said, “I didn’t notice it before, but there is another stake fully prepared a few yards away…”  Her voice trailed off into silence, and then Steve said, “Yes, Angela, I wonder who else we are going to burn at the stake this fine afternoon…”



To be continued…