The torment of Casey

XIII

“May the Lord bear witness to this occasion,” the Pastor addressed the all-adult congregation, “this is a momentous day for the community.

“You are here to bear witness to the failure of one of our own to repent. For months we have tried, we have prayed, we have reasoned, yet we dare not say we have failed when our methods have worked so well in the past.

“Casey refuses when it’s not in her best interest. We have had no recourse but to resort to threats. The threat of public disgrace and humiliation now hangs above her,” he said, pointing to a black screen that stood off to side on the stage. The two women sat on either side of the screen, ready to open it.

“She refuses to wear clothes. She refuses to eat what we give her, opting to water and some bread. So she’s fasting, you may say. That’s penance. But where is the repentance. At each opportunity she utters those three words. She commits a sin each time. She is stubborn, obstinate. Her filthy mind knows no bounds. She refuses to wash so we have to hose her down each day. She wishes to live like an animal. A filthy body to accompany a filthy mind. We will not accept it. She will repent. If not before this great gathering, but under further pressure from the Lord. The Lord will speak to her. She will leave here absolved of her sins.

“I have asked you all for suggestions and comments. I have reviewed all of them. I appreciate your efforts. You are helping rehabilitate one of our own who has strayed but who can be corrected. Let us all see for ourselves what her sins have done to her. Or for that matter, what she has done to herself. Open the screen.”

The women rose and pulled the screen open. An audible gasp rippled through the hall as scores of judgmental eyes landed on Casey. Then shouts of “whore”, “slut”, “sodomite” rang out amidst loud boos and jeers. Casey looked down at the ground. There were no tears.

She was shackled to a cross that was mounted on a cart. Her arms were held in place with steel cuffs. Her feet were secured the same way, except that they were fixed to the sides of the vertical beam and not to the front. A final shackle fixed her neck via a collar. She was gagged with a piece of cloth. Her hair was tied loosely.

She was naked. The marks from the wax were no longer visible. Everyone was seeing her for the first time since her “trial”. No one was appalled at the sight. Everyone was too busy judging her and jeering her. Finally, after ten minutes of loud humiliation, the Pastor raised his hand and everyone slowly calmed down.

He spoke again, “this is the body of a sinner. One who is consorting with Satan in her mind. You may ask, has she gone mad? Quite the opposite. She is in perfect mental health. Some have suggested treatments that might seem right but are unfortunately, illegal and even un-Christian. We must try our best to cure her and keep her. If she chooses to leave the community, we will let her go. To this day, she has expressed no such wish.

“Based on your recommendations and further discussions between me and the elders, here is what is going to happen.

“She still has 33 days of penance left based on her original sentence. We will let her husband reason with her today. If he is successful and she repents, she will be free to go. If he fails he may return multiple times to try again. In the meantime, we will make her toil. No more sitting around the room behaving badly. She may be able to toil her sins away. Hard labor may take her mind off her sodomite thoughts and perhaps, she will see her follies.

“Should day 200 roll around and she has still failed to repent. We will give her three choices: repent now and be rehabilitated, leave the community or toil for one hundred more days and we will give you one last chance to repent. We are reasonable people here. We are a forgiving people. We want to help this poor wretched soul. Close the screen.”

The screen closed around Casey as the gathering began to jeer and yell again. The Pastor stopped them and moved on with the program. An hour later, everybody dispersed and Casey was wheeled back to the basement, into the catacombs where she was freed from the cross and thrown into the concrete cell. This cell was about six feet long and four feet wide. It had bars for a door so she could be watched at all times. There was a concrete ledge, about six inches high and eighteen inches wide that ran the length of the cell, along the wall. It was for sitting or sleeping. Finally, there was a hole, six inches in diameter and several feet deep and that served as the toilet.

Casey stood in the middle of the cell as the door slid shut behind her. She was rubbing her wrists which had deep red welts from the shackles. Then she heard a voice and turned around.

“Just repent and we can go home now,” said her husband.

“You finally decide to show up,” Casey sneered at him, stepping back and sitting on the ledge, leaning against the wall. She held her legs tightly together, she crossed her arms over her breasts.

“Come on. The kids no longer ask about you. Why are you doing this to yourself and to them? And to us?”

“Us? There never was an “us”!” Casey shot back, “If there was an “us”, slip your cock through the bars and I’ll suck it good. Bet you would want that. Deep down, you know you want that.”

“Casey, perish such thoughts,” he said nervously.

“Why? Are you saving yourself for your faggot friends? Is your Bible study group a front for homo loving? Tell me, do you love sodomy but with men?”

Tom dropped to his knees in prayer. Casey snickered and called out, “hey faggot, check this out.”

Casey relaxed and spread her legs and pulled them up so her heels were resting on the edge of the ledge. “Come on, see for yourself what you are missing,” she said.

“Please sit properly,” Tom said, looking away.

“Properly? Do you even see how I am? How can anything be proper if I am naked and caged like a fucking animal?” Casey yelled.

“Please, your language. Come on, just repent now, will you? Let’s go home.”

Casey took a deep breath and let a stream of piss emerge. She peed down the side of the ledge and the stream ran off towards the hole. Tom was kneeling, head bowed in prayer, arms above his shoulders. Casey finished, leaving behind a glistening wet, hairy mound. “Bet you’d like to lick me dry, you sick puppy,” she said, pulling her knees close to her chest and hugging them tightly.

Tom got up and walked away. Casey called out, “I love sodomy and so does Tom Rogers!” He didn’t look back. He stepped into the basement office to have a word with the women. Casey smiled and lay down on the hard ledge. Her stomach growled. She closed her eyes.

XIV

“The choice is yours. 33 days in the dry box or hard labor, work of our choosing,” the neighbor lady said to Casey, who was finishing an overdue meal. Two slices of bread ends, a banana and a pear, washed down with a liter of water. She sat on the floor of the cell, her side facing the woman who stood outside.

“I’ll work. I’m bored,” Casey said with an air of resignation in her voice.

“Well, the Pastor is tired of trying to extract repentance from you,” the lady continued, “plus now that you have rejected your husband you are the property of the Church and we can use you as we please. Unless, of course, you choose to either repent or leave the community.”

“Not a chance. I will do neither until the Pastor admits that he loves sodomy like me.”

The lady said nothing. Casey finished eating and tossed the banana peel to one corner. She handed the empty bottle through the bars to the lady who said, “let’s get to work,” and opened the cell door. Casey stepped out into the corridor.

“Do you see the length of this corridor,” the lady asked. Casey nodded, arms folded, “at that end is a bucket of water and a rag. Your job today is to wipe the floor, the entire length, by hand. Do not take a break unless one of us authorizes you to. You must be on all fours our crouching at all times. Do not rise to stand unless we say so. Do not sit on your backside unless we say so. Understand?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Casey said, “I’ll scrub your fucking floors. Then what?”

“Watch your tongue and get to work,” the lady pointed to the far end of the corridor. The corridor was about 100 yards long. Casey trudged off to the end where her supplies awaited her. Once there she crouched and soaked the rag in the water and leaning over, began to wipe the floor from wall to wall. The corridor was narrow, about ten feet max. She had to wipe nearly 3000 square feet of floor with her bare hands.

XV

“See that filthy water in the bucket? Don’t worry, we won’t make you drink it,” the Pastor said, “it reflects the filth in your mind. You look at it, you don’t see your reflection. You see filth and dirt.”

Casey had been wiping the floor for hours. She had gone from end to end, twice. When she had finished the first length she was given close to two liters of water to drink. Now she was also hungry. When she had to pee she just went on the floor as she wiped and then she wiped it up, so in essence she had been spreading her piss across the floor. She smiled at the thought.

But she was exhausted. Her arms hurt. Her back hurt. She was about to start the third iteration when the Pastor said, “enough, stand up.”

Casey slowly rose to her feet, dropping the rag to the floor, flexing her arms.

“There is plenty of work to do and you will do it. Your obedience today shows that there is still hope. Now will you drop to your knees like a good girl and show me your talents?” The Pastor rubbed his hand over his crotch.

“Not a chance,” Casey said.

“I figured,” the Pastor said, turning away. He walked a few feet and turned around and said, “back to work until further notice. And by the way, you are newly single. The Church granted Tom his wish of dissolution.” He walked away.

“I love sodomy and so do you,” Casey yelled out. She kicked the bucket, splashing dirty water onto the floor. She picked up the rag and flung it into the bucket. The Pastor stopped in his tracks and began to return towards Casey who was standing still, staring him down as he approached. Then in an instant she picked up the bucket of water and flung it towards him, soaking him in the process. She threw the bucket down and let out a laugh. The Pastor, not knowing what to do, paused for a moment. He pressed his “panic” button that he always carried during such adventures. He stood there, soaking wet as reinforcements arrived. The two women hurried over, followed by two men in black robes. Casey remained defiant, screaming her line over and over again as the two men led her away, one of them placing a hood over her head.

XVI

Casey stared at the ground, a teardrop fell from her eyes and hit the ground below her. Her body ached like never before. Parts of her skin felt like they were on fire. She was in stocks, her neck secured in a wooden plank, her wrists secured to the same plank, through two holes. She was leaning forward, her body at ninety degrees, her feet spread wide and secured to posts. There were clamps on her nipples. There was a plug of some sort in her anus, penetrating deep, stretching her like some of those cocks she was good at taking. Whipmarks criss-crossed her back, butt and thighs. They weren’t quite welts but they were marks made as a result of a lengthy whipping with a leather belt. The two men in robes took turns whipping her. They were, however, kind enough to give her water from time to time. She, in turn, returned the favor by peeing all over the floor.

Casey’s mind was drifting. She was getting a little delirious. The pain, the agony, the humiliation, the deprivation was all getting to her. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. Then she heard a buzzing noise.

The Pastor approached her with a shear. Casey knew what was coming.

“We haven’t truly humiliated you,” the Pastor sneered, “a woman’s head is shaved whenever she needs to be humiliated in front of the masses. Other parts are shaved too.” He leaned over and sheared off a strip of hair from the middle of her head. The tangled, knotted locks fell to the floor.

Two lashes landed on her back. Casey let out screams that were getting weaker and weaker.

With each run of the shear, two lashes fell on various parts of her body.

Four more runs of the shear and eight lashes later, Casey’s head was shaved clean. The Pastor walked behind her.

Then Casey felt something jabbing her pussy. It was soft and fleshy, not some object. It was the Pastor’s cock.

“You won’t suck me, so I’ll get my fill in another way,” he said, slowly entering her. Casey clenched and resisted as best as she could but the entry was smooth and as lashes rained down on her back, the Pastor moved inside her, stretching her but she was accommodating. A piece of cloth was tied around her mouth to stop her from screaming. The Pastor shot his load into her and withdrew. More lashes followed, this time on her butt and legs and one of the robed men entered her. Then the other. Then the Pastor. After each had gone thrice, they stopped and left the room, removing Casey’s gag and forcing her to drink loads of water, which she did.

As cum leaked out of her aching pussy and hit the floor, Casey closed her eyes and sighed. The room was dark. The walls seemed to be closing in around her. She felt no more pain. She peed a river onto the floor, washing the cum off her pussy lips and off the floor.

“I love sodomy,” she muttered.

Eventually, she was taken out of the stocks and carried to her cell. With no strength whatsoever, Casey fell to the floor in a tired, sore heap and virtually passed out.

Hours later, it was more of the same. This time they gave her some bread. Plus, the day began with a jolt of cold water onto her face and pussy.

The next day, she remained in stocks but they had her suspended from the ceiling so that they could lash her breasts and stomach.