The Knight And The Gnostic

[thehangingtree]

Yeah, tell that to the Abbot and Bernard, please!

they don't listen to me...

 

[Wragg]

Will my determination to defy the Abbot Arnaud soon be broken as well?

I've bitten my nails down to the knuckles....

Pleeeeeease let the Abbot suffer a bit. More than just embarrassment, I mean....

 

[Barbaria1]

I've bitten my nails down to the knuckles....

Pleeeeeease let the Abbot suffer a bit. More than just embarrassment, I mean....

You are going to have to wait for about 13 more episodes, I think. Hang in there. I suggest a trip to the local pub, rather than chewing below the knuckles. We do want you to still be able to type.

 

[Ted Parry]

You are going to have to wait for about 13 more episodes, I think. Hang in there. I suggest a trip to the local pub, rather than chewing below the knuckles. We do want you to still be able to type.

Thirteen more episodes ...... That's almost two weeks !
I think you may have invented a new torture .... conclusion denial.

 

[Barbaria1]

Thirteen more episodes ...... That's almost two weeks !
I think you may have invented a new torture .... conclusion denial.

Not at two each day. Do the math

 

[Ted Parry]

View attachment 396930 Not at two each day. Do the math

Never was very good at the "mafematix" ..... Only woodwork, metalwork and tying knots !!

 

[Barbaria1]

Never was very good at the "mafematix" ..... Only woodwork, metalwork and tying knots !!

In that case, you have come to the right place ... talk to Tree ... he may let you into the Union.

 

[Hondoboot2]

Episode 24

I have waded through blood and gore, but seeing Barbara de Moore whipped this day has rocked me. She has stayed firm to her beliefs, despite the vicious and agonising whipping she has received. Although torn and abused she has not given the Abbot what he wants. How can I save her from her own stubborn pride?

Close to collapse now, she is dowsed with water, pressed once again to recant her beliefs. Dripping, bloody, shamed, still she refuses.

"So be it." The Abbot is unmoved. He signals a lackey, he is up to something. Barbara is in her own world, unaware of anything around her. She waits for the next strike of the whip but it doesn't come. Instead a door opens below us, and one of her young perfecti is marched through it bound and naked. The terrified young woman is briefly displayed to the waiting crowd, and then her guards withdraw back through the door, leaving her to the mercy of those below, men who are already excited by Barbara's whipping. It is only moments before the first man seizes her, and within minutes she has vanished screaming into the aroused throng.

"You see mistress de Moore. Our actions have consequences, and our priciples can be costly to others, not just to ourselves."

Turning to his men Arnaud says "Leave her for a short while to think about her actions. Then take her down and bring her to me. De Flebas, you may like to come and join me inside. I wish to know your opinion of my further plans."

Barbara's head has come up now, horror in her face. The screams and shouts below have hit her hard in her weakened state. I wonder if she is questioning her committment to stay true and accept whatever comes. She looks at me, and I try to signal support and encouragement, but what more can I do for her? Is escape an option? Do I dare get her hopes up?

It's too bad escaping is probably not an option. You could kill the bastard, and hope his henchmen would not retaliate....just a thought.

 

[Hondoboot2]

Episode 25

I am left hanging, spreadeagled naked between two whipping posts, high on the scaffolding overlooking a town square teeming with soldiers and ruffians. Arnaud and de Flebss, along with the Abbot's retinue have left, presumably to ponder what next to do with me ... their unrepentant heretic.

By now I have become a bit of an embarrassment to Arnaud. My refusal so far to break under torture threatens to undermine his authority. He dares not allow this to go on. I can imagine the debate going on behind closed doors over how to break me.

But for now it is Bernard I must be wary of. The disgusting pig of a man circles around me, eyeing my limp whip-marked body. My head sags. He shouts an order and his underlings douse me with three more buckets of cold water. He takes s moment to examine my damaged nipple, rubbing his hand over it as I grimace. He seems to take pleasure in causing me this small discomfort, continuing to abuse me by groping rudely between my legs.

Then he has me taken down, calling on his men to drag me down to the square below and put me on display. The crowd parts as I am dragged to the center of the square supported between two of Bernard's men. There I am backed up to a post and my wrists bound to it overhead. A sign is affixed to the post with the words, 'Barbara de Moore, heretic and blasphemer'.

View attachment 396809 At my feet they dump the corpses of three of my young perfecti followers whom they had earlier thrown to the crowd. Their naked bodies are bruised and bloody. They have clearly been repeatedly gang raped and murdered at the hands of the crowd.

They lie at my feet, eyes still open, staring vacantly up at me. Expressions of horror and shock on their faces. And I look down on them, tears welling in my eyes as the full impact of what my stubborn resistance has done to these poor girls who have followed me so trustingly hits home. The poor things have paid an awful price for my foolish pride.

Now it is midday. The crowd has thinned. Many have gone off to find food or loot among the still smoldering ruins of the houses and shops surrounding the square. But many remain to taunt and ridicule me. They call me names, and gawk at my nudity, pointing and laughing among themselves. I shut my eyes. I am by now beyond humiliation.

I am not sure how long this goes on ... surely much of the afternoon, for the sun has disappeared behind the chateau's towers. My strength and will are ebbing fast. I have had little sleep, and nothing to eat since I was dragged before the Abbot the day before. My head droops. I find myself slipping in and out of consciousness and falling into despair.

I know the Abbot and his men will be coming for me soon. I can only expect to be subjected to more torture, and I know that my ability to endure is by now feeble at best. I am weary. I hurt all over. The death and destruction of my town around its once beautiful market square breaks my heart.

Will my determination to defy the Abbot Arnaud soon be broken as well?

Do not think of your resistance as the cause of death of your followers. That is what the rat Abbot Arnaud wants you to think. It is in fact his actions that caused the death of your innocent followers. Hold your head high Barb, as you continue to embarrass the filthy bastard.

 

[Barbaria1]

It's too bad escaping is probably not an option. You could kill the bastard, and hope his henchmen would not retaliate....just a thought.

Escape? Hmmmmm ... what a novel thought!

 

[shastar]

Episode 25

This is wonderful, again, Barb. And sad. And great illustration, Madiosi !

 

[shastar]

well done again Barb and Phlebas!!!

How could anyone mar this prefect creation of God???
View attachment 396830

Certainly nobody here on CF, no...

 

[phlebas]

Episode 26

"Yes, my Lord, I have another pleasure prepared for the lady. I think you will appreciate it very much. I have had enough of her resistance, I mean to break her one way or another. She has been resting bound to a post in the square, but I have had her brought back to the chamber and now I will test her resolve more sharply. Will you join me?"

The fiend knows that it hurts me to see the lady Barbara treated this way. I must go with him, I am drawn to her, and hope to have a blunting effect on his worst excesses. I must find a way to save her.

I follow the Abbot back to that awful chamber. He has assembled what looks to be a variety of Judas cradle, a wooden frame with sloping sides, coming to a pointed seat. But this one is different. At the top where there should be a pointed apex there is a large wooden phallus. A carved wooden cock, smooth and long and thick. I am fascinated and horrified in equal measure.



Barbara looks awful after her day in the square, and her gaze is fixed on the instrument next to her. I hear her muttering "not that, please not that." Arnaud's men have bound her hands above her head, the rope going up and over a beam above the cradle. They have attached weights to her ankles, and as we enter the chamber he gives a signal.

Strong men haul on the rope and up she goes, arms stretched tight and weights pulling uncomfortably on her legs. Up, up, until she is higher than the phallus. A man each side takes one leg and she is spread open, her body guided carefully until her pussy is hovering above the hard wood. Then slowly she is lowered until the wood probes, presses on her lower lips. Barbara takes a deep breath, sighs, and grimaces as the rope drops further, the wood penetrates and her body struggles to accommodate the thick shaft.

Arnaud smile a satisfied smile now, nodding and signalling his men. She is lowered further and further, each time taking more of the shaft inside herself. She sweats heavily now. She can barely move, with her arms held high and her legs dragged down either side of the sloping wooden seat. She can only fight to endure the brutal shaft as it pushes deeper and deeper inside. Finally she is sitting on the seat, her vagina filled by the hard wood. Cold and unforgiving, it is nothing like anything she has known before.

They allow her to rest for a few minutes, awkwardly impaled. The they haul on the rope again, and she rises inch by inch, the wood gradually pulled out of her, but not completely. She cannot get free of it before they drop her again, faster this time, harder, she moans with discomfort and takes it inside once again. A moment's rest, and again she rises, again the phallus withdraws from her body.

Diabolical. I watch transfixed as she is abused, violated by a wooden machine, tortured and humiliated in a vile mockery of the love act. Arnaud is mocking me, too. He is paying us both back for our rebellion on the rack. It is painful for me to watch, but how much worse for her, a virgin until so recently, her female parts unused to such hard work. Again and again she is raped by the phallus, until I can watch no more.

 

[Ted Parry]

Episode 26

"Yes, my Lord, I have another pleasure prepared for the lady. I think you will appreciate it very much. I have had enough of her resistance, I mean to break her one way or another. She has been resting bound to a post in the square, but I have had her brought back to the chamber and now I will test her resolve more sharply. Will you join me?"

..... Nasty ..... Poor Barbara, but it could be worse, if the evil Arnaud had watched the Quoom version of the Inquisition then the vicious phallus would be wrapped in what appeared to be shark-skin ..... Ouch !

 

[shastar]

Episode 26

Ouch ! Poor Barbara... Come on, de Flebas ! Do something (or not)

 

[Hondoboot2]

Episode 26

"Yes, my Lord, I have another pleasure prepared for the lady. I think you will appreciate it very much. I have had enough of her resistance, I mean to break her one way or another. She has been resting bound to a post in the square, but I have had her brought back to the chamber and now I will test her resolve more sharply. Will you join me?"

The fiend knows that it hurts me to see the lady Barbara treated this way. I must go with him, I am drawn to her, and hope to have a blunting effect on his worst excesses. I must find a way to save her.

I follow the Abbot back to that awful chamber. He has assembled what looks to be a variety of Judas cradle, a wooden frame with sloping sides, coming to a pointed seat. But this one is different. At the top where there should be a pointed apex there is a large wooden phallus. A carved wooden cock, smooth and long and thick. I am fascinated and horrified in equal measure.

View attachment 397083

Barbara looks awful after her day in the square, and her gaze is fixed on the instrument next to her. I hear her muttering "not that, please not that." Arnaud's men have bound her hands above her head, the rope going up and over a beam above the cradle. They have attached weights to her ankles, and as we enter the chamber he gives a signal.

Strong men haul on the rope and up she goes, arms stretched tight and weights pulling uncomfortably on her legs. Up, up, until she is higher than the phallus. A man each side takes one leg and she is spread open, her body guided carefully until her pussy is hovering above the hard wood. Then slowly she is lowered until the wood probes, presses on her lower lips. Barbara takes a deep breath, sighs, and grimaces as the rope drops further, the wood penetrates and her body struggles to accommodate the thick shaft.

Arnaud smile a satisfied smile now, nodding and signalling his men. She is lowered further and further, each time taking more of the shaft inside herself. She sweats heavily now. She can barely move, with her arms held high and her legs dragged down either side of the sloping wooden seat. She can only fight to endure the brutal shaft as it pushes deeper and deeper inside. Finally she is sitting on the seat, her vagina filled by the hard wood. Cold and unforgiving, it is nothing like anything she has known before.

They allow her to rest for a few minutes, awkwardly impaled. The they haul on the rope again, and she rises inch by inch, the wood gradually pulled out of her, but not completely. She cannot get free of it before they drop her again, faster this time, harder, she moans with discomfort and takes it inside once again. A moment's rest, and again she rises, again the phallus withdraws from her body.

Diabolical. I watch transfixed as she is abused, violated by a wooden machine, tortured and humiliated in a vile mockery of the love act. Arnaud is mocking me, too. He is paying us both back for our rebellion on the rack. It is painful for me to watch, but how much worse for her, a virgin until so recently, her female parts unused to such hard work. Again and again she is raped by the phallus, until I can watch no more.

Oh, poor Barb.....I don't know if I can take reading anymore......that damn Arnaud....I could strangle him
Great writing Phlebas!

 

[Repertor]

Episode 26

Again a splendidly written episode. Poor Barbara is given no respite.

I suggest a trip to the local pub, rather than chewing below the knuckles. We do want you to still be able to type.

So cruelly tortured but still caring for others.

 

[windar]

Damned piece of wood has all the fun...

 

[Barbaria1]

Episode 27

"No! Not that! Please, not that!" I cried at the sight of the wickedly-large wooden phallus fastened to the top of Arnaud's Judas cradle.

It had only been a little over a day since I surrendered my virginity ... mercifully to the likes of Lord de Flebas rather than to that reprehensible toad of a man, Bernard. And in that first night in the dungeon, I had been brutally raped more times than I cared to remember. But as I stared wide-eyed at the immense size of that thing, my spirits sank. As "used' as I had become since falling into the Abbot's clutches, it was impossible for me to imagine how I would ever be able to take that wooden phallus inside me.

But I was given little time to contemplate the matter. Within minutes, I found myself hovering above it's threatening tip, arms tied over my head and weights attached to my ankles so heavy that I was unable to raise my knees or twist about. Then in little jerks, they lowered my naked, perspiring body. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and prepared myself for the worst.



At first the bulbous head just pressed on my sore crotch and I balanced precariously, but then two of Bernard's brutes grabbed my legs and pulled them apart, so that it was just a matter of time until the phallus' eager point gained entrance.

Weighted down and pulled by gravity, I was slowly, inexorably impaled ... the immense girth of the thing stretching and tearing away at the tender inside membranes of my already battered vagina. Warm blood began, almost immediately, to flow copiously between my inner thighs and the sloped surfaces of the wooden cradle.



I howled in anguish as I continued to sink, lower and lower, the thick shaft filling me entirely until it disappeared inside me and I found myself coming to rest, seated on the apex of the cradle.

Tears ran down my cheeks. I couldn't move. I was blubbering like a small child. The pain was unrelenting ... and then things only got worse. They began to raise me, and I quickly found that I had to endure not only the friction of the phallus slipping back out, but also an intense suction ... as though my insides were being sucked out of me along with it.

I howled and screamed, threw my head back, and then in resignation, I rested my chin on my chest and watched in dread fascination as the bloody thing slowly emerged into view ... then more and more of it ... until it finally left me with a popping noise ... but not completely ... they left the nose of it just inside my spread labia ... and then, to my horror, they began to lower me onto it again.

Down, down, down I slid ... until I hit bottom ... impaled for a second time ... and then I was raised and impaled for a third, a fourth, a fifth ...

That was it! I couldn't take another. I broke!

Amid sobs and groans, I managed to croak, "Stop ... please ... no more ... I recant ... stop ... I'll admit to whatever you say ... just stop, please!"

 

[Juan1234]

Episode 27

"No! Not that! Please, not that!" I cried at the sight of the wickedly-large wooden phallus fastened to the top of Arnaud's Judas cradle.

It had only been a little over a day since I surrendered my virginity ... mercifully to the likes of Lord de Flebas rather than to that reprehensible toad of a man, Bernard. And in that first night in the dungeon, I had been brutally raped more times than I cared to remember. But as I stared wide-eyed at the immense size of that thing, my spirits sank. As "used' as I had become since falling into the Abbot's clutches, it was impossible for me to imagine how I would ever be able to take that wooden phallus inside me.

But I was given little time to contemplate the matter. Within minutes, I found myself hovering above it's threatening tip, arms tied over my head and weights attached to my ankles so heavy that I was unable to raise my knees or twist about. Then in little jerks, they lowered my naked, perspiring body. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and prepared myself for the worst.

View attachment 397138

At first the bulbous head just pressed on my sore crotch and I balanced precariously, but then two of Bernard's brutes grabbed my legs and pulled them apart, so that it was just a matter of time until the phallus' eager point gained entrance.

Weighted down and pulled by gravity, I was slowly, inexorably impaled ... the immense girth of the thing stretching and tearing away at the tender inside membranes of my already battered vagina. Warm blood began, almost immediately, to flow copiously between my inner thighs and the sloped surfaces of the wooden cradle.

View attachment 397139

I howled in anguish as I continued to sink, lower and lower, the thick shaft filling me entirely until it disappeared inside me and I found myself coming to rest, seated on the apex of the cradle.

Tears ran down my cheeks. I couldn't move. I was blubbering like a small child. The pain was unrelenting ... and then things only got worse. They began to raise me, and I quickly found that I had to endure not only the friction of the phallus slipping back out, but also an intense suction ... as though my insides were being sucked out of me along with it.

I howled and screamed, threw my head back, and then in resignation, I rested my chin on my chest and watched in dread fascination as the bloody thing slowly emerged into view ... then more and more of it ... until it finally left me with a popping noise ... but not completely ... they left the nose of it just inside my spread labia ... and then, to my horror, they began to lower me onto it again.

Down, down, down I slid ... until I hit bottom ... impaled for a second time ... and then I was raised and impaled for a third, a fourth, a fifth ...

That was it! I couldn't take another. I broke!

Amid sobs and groans, I managed to croak, "Stop ... please ... no more ... I recant ... stop ... I'll admit to whatever you say ... just stop, please!"

She broke!?!?!?!?!