The first witchburning – by Sarahmustdie



She cowers in the corner, listening fearfully to the angry voices of the growing mob and the sounds of heavy banging on the front door. Just ten minutes before, she had made the mistake of resisting the advances of one of the most powerful men in town. In fury, he had locked her in the closet of her own house and ran out into the town screaming “Witch! I’ve captured a witch!”

Tears began to form in her eyes as she heard the rough voices of the crowd just outside shouting to each other “Open the door! We’ll drag that little witch out by her hair.” These words are followed shortly by the sound of the front door banging open, and her would-be lover’s voice quickly directing the mob to “the witch’s hiding place”. The leader of the mob is a large, burly man in his mid-thirties. He is one of the fortunate few that have recently been hired as a “witch-hunter” in this town. These individuals are given the right to personally capture suspected witches, and punish them without a trial as they see fit. True to his word, he breaks down the door to the closet, and drags the trembling girl out by her hair.

She is dragged out into the cold, where the crowd eagerly surrounds her, waiting to hear what sentence will befall the young woman. The witch-hunter grips her hair tighter, and pulls her roughly to her feet, causing the young woman to squeal in pain, and bringing smirks and excited whispers from the crowd. The witch-hunter looks deeply into his captive large, fearful eyes for several tense moments before turning to the man that had accused her and asking, “On what grounds do you accuse this wretch of the heinous crime of witchcraft?”

The young woman turns her face to the man, the same man that earlier that evening had tried to force himself on her, her eyes pleading silently with him. He glances back at her with a smirk on his face that only she can see, then turns and speaks charismatically to the crowd, “Earlier this evening I was attempting to court what I thought was a beautiful young woman. As I drew close to her, I saw clearly a look of darkness and evil in her brown eyes and they turned a deep shade of red. Before I could react, she attempted to cast a spell of the devil upon me. Luckily I have received training on dealing with witches and I was able to subdue her and escape her home before any serious harm came to me.”

As the man finishes his speech the crowd begins to shout and press closer to the young woman, who now has tears in her eyes as the witch-hunter’s grip grows tighter in her hair. The witch-hunter holds up his other hand to gain the attention of the crowd, and they immediately fall silent, staring at the young woman with contempt and hatred. The witch-hunter speaks up, “In order to cleanse the town of this witches evil deeds, she must be stripped of her coverings and slowly burned for her crimes!”

“No!” the accused witch pleads desperately, “It’s not true! I’m not a witch! Please don’t burn me!”

“Your sentence has already been spoken, witch! You will burn before the night is gone! Take her to the square!” At the witch-hunters command, two of the townspeople take hold of the frantically struggling young woman by her arms and forcefully drag her down the dirt road leading to the town square. Upon reaching the square, the young woman stares wide-eyed at the blackened stake already raised on a platform in the middle of the square, a platform on which so many young women before her have burned, pleading for their lives as the crowd looked on.

Without hesitation, the witch-hunter orders her onto the platform and has the two men restrain her as he strips her off her clothing. The young woman’s nipples immediately grew hard in the cold, twilight air and goose bumps cover her pale, exposed skin. She lowers her head in shame, her naked, trembling body exposed to the eyes of the crowd gathering close to watch the spectacle.

The two men push her firmly against the stake and hold her there as the witch-hunter binds her in place. First her hands are pulled behind her and bound tightly at the wrists. Her ankles are then bound to the bottom of the stake and the access rope wrapped up her legs, binding her up to her waist. A strap then wraps her across her chest restricting all but minimal movement and thrusting her breasts out for the viewing pleasure of the crowd.
Tears are streaming down her terrified face now as the accused witch wiggles helplessly and continues pleading for her life. Certain members of the crowd are assigned to gather kindling for the pyre as the two men holding the witch in place run their hands sensually over her breasts and cunt. The young woman squirms helplessly in her bounds pleading to the crowded square “Please! Don’t do this! Someone help me!”

The people stacking the pyre look up at her sobbing face and laugh, “No one is going to help you, witch! You’re getting exactly what you deserve!” She continues to sob, pleading desperately, her cries and begging unheeded.
After ten minutes the pyre is stacked and the people return to the crowd. The two men groping her point out the crowd, “The witch’s pussy is dripping! She’ll burn nicely!” The crowd laughs and cheers as these two men join the front row to watch the demise of the witch. The witch is left at the stake with only the witch-hunter on the platform; a lit torch in his hand. He holds it close to the trembling witch, letting her squirm in its glow, giving her only a taste of the pain to come.

As the witch squirms against the heat of the torch just inches from her erect nipples, the witch-hunter speaks her sentence to the crowd. “For engaging in the heinous crime of witchcraft, you young woman before has been condemned to a slow fire death at stake! May her screams and suffering cleanse the town of her crimes and be a warning to other witches! And now, THE WITCH WILL BURN!”

The crowd begins to chant excitedly, “Burn the witch! Burn the witch!”

“No, Please!” the bound woman begins to screech, “I don’t wanna die! Don’t burn me! I’m begging you!” The crowd only grows louder, their chants drowning out the witch’s pleading. The witch-hunter slowly lowers the torch in front of the witch, until finally it reaches the pyre at her bound feet. The bottom of the pyre is lit, and the flames slowly spread to the naked, trembling body bound in the centre of them.

The young woman feels the heat growing uncomfortably warm around her feet and begins sobbing desperately, wiggling against the stake and her firm bindings. “No! Put it out! PLEASE!”

The witch-hunter whispers in her ear, “Burn beautifully for us witch. Burn slowly, scream for us, beg for your life! No one can save you now. You will pay for your crimes!” He then backs away to watch the fire spread on the pyre and begin to lick at the bound feet of the helpless witch.

“Oh my God!” the young woman screams as her naked feet are engulfed in flame, “Put it out! Please! I don’t wanna burn! AAAAGH!!” her high pitched screams fill the square to the delight of the crowd. The sky is growing dark now and the slowly growing flames light the young, naked figure of the burning witch. Her feet grow red and begin to cook in the flames as they burn up her body, reaching to her knees, then her naked, wet, pussy.

Her screams reach a higher pitch as her pussy begins to burn, its juices heating and slowly cooking her mid-section. “AAAAAAAHHHH!! STOP IT… PLEASE!! SOMEONE, ANYONE… HELP ME!!”

The crowd cheers as the flames slowly rise to engulf the witch, punishing her perfectly. The witch-hunter smirks, “You are burning beautifully little witch! We know you are suffering… just as you deserve.”

The flames climb up to her chest now, licking at the bottom of her perky breasts she screams again, more desperately knowing it will only be a few more moments until the flames engulf her completely. The flames begin to reach past her erect nipples, her long hair catches then, quickly burning to her scalp.

“AAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!! NOOOO!! JUST KILL ME NOW!! PLEASE!!!” the witch is completely engulfed by the relentless flames to the delight of the crowd who erupts into applause at the sight of the human torch in the centre of the square.

The screams of the witch fill the square for a few more moments, interrupted only by her helpless gagging as smoke from the fire fills her lungs. Her screams finally die out, and after several more agonizing moments, her body falls limp in the flames where it is left to be consumed. The crowd cheers loudly then and applauds the work of the witch-hunter who bows.

The celebration is interrupted by a shout from the edge of town, “Witch! Witch!”

The witch-hunter smiles at the expectant faces of the crowd and steps off the platform, leading the crowd toward the shouting, “Follow me, good people! A witch-hunter’s work is never done!”