{\rtf1\ansi\ansicpg1252\deff0{\fonttbl{\f0\fnil\fcharset0 Times New Roman;}} \viewkind4\uc1\pard\nowidctlpar\sl240\slmult1\lang1033\kerning28\f0\fs22 NEVER SAY NO\par \fs18 impalement/ strangling\fs22\par \par \par She should not have said no. She had been just walking down the street when the servant had approached her. His master wished the pleasure of sharing a bed with her and would pay well for the privilege. She had not handled the offer well, walking over to the richly dressed man and slapping his face. Suddenly she had been grabbed by his guards and then the city watch came to carry her away to the cells. Her appearance before the court had been short. The guard captain pressed charges of assault and robbery. Her pleas of innocence were ignored and she was sent back to the foul dark cell to await her fate. That night she was taken from her chains and washed. Led to a small room where there was a large bed and the rich man. Tied to the bed she lost her virginity that night. Lost it to the same man who had offered to buy it. Had it ripped from her in a night filled with pain and blood and terror. He had ignored her begging as he used her to fulfill his base lusts. There were no gentle touches, no kind words. Indeed he spoke not at all. He just used her until he was sated and then he left. Others followed his lead, she was raped by several men, guards mostly but some were higher stationed. In the cold gray light of morning she was led naked to the execution scaffold where the hooded man waited. Her feet dragged and scuffled on the cold damp cobbles, her voice pleaded and begged but she received neither comfort nor explanation. Just a walk that had only one end. Her knees failed her at the bottom of the steps and she was carried up to enter the realm belonging to the masked man. How often she had stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched as some other person had been elevated up only to come crashing down some time later, torn, broken, destroyed, dead. Her panicked looks found no sign of help, mercy, forgiveness, or even pity. No crowd would watch her last seconds. All the death dealing things were there, the noose, garrote, wheel, forge, whipping post, and others waited for her soft flesh. She had watched as most of them had been used before. Now they were there for her, there to send her to the afterlife screaming and begging. She could almost see her dead body being thrown over the low rail to land with a wet thud on the paving stones below to be dragged away as food for the hounds and hawks. Strong hands seized her, forced her to the whipping post and for just a second her hopes soared, maybe only a whipping, a few strokes then life would be returned to her. Hopes crashed as she saw the wide leather neck strap, the outthrust crotch high support. The twin up thrust pieces of wood, round, longer than a man\rquote s hand and almost as big around as her wrist with rounded tops. She knew and was afraid. More hands helped lift her, goose grease was smeared on both the wooden rods and on her crotch. Lowered down to be subjected to the entrance of them into her body, left with her legs hanging unable to reach the rough boards. The touch of the leather spelled her doom, everything else could be survived, could be undone, but the leather was the touch of death, the promise of the end of her life. Two ropes secured her hands just enough to prevent her from reaching her neck but allowed her free movement otherwise. She wanted a priest but there was only her murderers. She tried to pray but her mind seemed frozen. She could not remember even the simplest prayer. The huge pegs were ripping her apart. The blood was flowing down the smooth wood and dripping to the floor. The strap moved as a wedge was placed under it behind the post. Her neck was pulled back and her head bent forward as the back of her neck was pulled into contact with the post. Black wings were hovering over her, the wedge was being tapped down, the strap tightening. Her scream lost volume and became a gurgle then a high pitched whistle. The wedge moved more. Her hands fought and pulled at their ropes, feet and legs kicked and ran, the pegs holding her in place. Her frantic struggles caused them to rip and tear the tender tissues they were lodged in. More blood and other less noble things ran down her legs. More soft taps and suddenly there was no more air at all. The panicked movements peaked and then began to lessen. The wings were closer now, she could feel the cold draft from them. Talons gripped her soul and pulled it out of her dying body. She fought but it was a useless attempt. With a jerk, a shudder, she lost. Death. \par }