This was originally submitted as part of a novel-length story
MAGDA'S SACRIFICE
The men carried or dragged their victims through the main hall and back to the kitchen, smearing great trails of blood behind them. Magda stood obediently at Dmitri’s side, her luscious body gory and befouled, gazing at him with naked adoration. He clapped his hands twice and Alexandra stepped into the hall and came towards them. Nude save for thigh-length leather boots and a silver necklace; she carried a black suede bag over her shoulder.
“Call us when she is ready” Dmitri told her and followed after the others.
Alone in the hall, the two women faced each other, Magda a full head taller. Without a word, Alexandra took her bag over to a plain table at the side of the room and proceeded to lay out a variety of canes, switches and vicious whips. Magda stood where Dmitri had left her and watched, her high breasts rising and falling. Tiny streams of moisture ran from her cunt, cutting streaks down her blood-stained thighs. Alexandra returned, smiling warmly, and broke the silence.
“I am going to oil you. You will feel the lashes more keenly” she said and, laying a delicate hand on her victim’s shoulder she guided her gently down to the floor and had her sit back, open legged. Her cross pendant swung before Magda’s eyes as she bent over her.
“You wear the Yellow Sign” Magda gasped as she made out the curious symbol at its centre, picked out in sapphires. A faraway look came into Alexandra’s eyes.
“I had it from his own hand” she said, “and it is mounted on a crucifix”. There was a shared moment of silence before she collected herself. “Your hair is so beautiful” she said, taking ivory combs from the bag. She piled the shimmering, copper curls on top of Magda’s head to bare her neck and shoulders then poured a pool of scented oil into the palm of her hand. She sighed and chewed her lip as Alexandra’s hands ranged over her shoulders, arms and breasts, working the oil and blood evenly into her smooth flesh with exquisite tenderness.
Lingering over the erect nipples, Alexandra leant forward and brushed her lips up Magda’s throat to breathe in her ear “There are scourges of stiffened, knotted leather, long bullwhips and flails tipped with steel hooks – razor sharp”. She closed her eyes, purring while Alexandra rubbed the whole flask of oil from the nape of her neck to the tips of her toes, rolling the yielding body over to knead her buttocks and crotch, making her inner thighs slippery with a mixture of oil and her own juices. Alexandra pressed her lips against Magda’s all the while, breathing into her panting mouth and licking at the tip of her tongue. At last her whole body shone slick and glossy. Magda moaned deeply, desperately bucking her groin against the soft fingers stroking oil into her clit and Alexandra took her lower lip between sharp, white teeth to tease at it wickedly for a moment before kissing her deeply and passionately. Breaking away she took Magda’s hands and led her from the floor over to the centre of the hall where a pair of iron manacles hung by great loops of chain from the rafters; Magda locked her own wrists into place – already at the perfect height – while Alexandra knelt solicitously to secure her ankles to a spreading-bar. Magda stood tip-toed, limbs outspread, her round breasts thrusting forward with every breath she took. Stepping back, also panting and wide-eyed with arousal, Alexandra brushed Magda’s auburn hair away from her face.
“She is ready” she called out. Taking three steps backwards she stood with her hands behind her head and her legs apart, waiting for further orders. Dmitri led the men into the hall, his mouth and beard drenched with blood. They were all naked now - red-handed and spattered with gore - and they went straight to the whips. Running a plaited single-tail over his hand thoughtfully Dmitri spoke without looking up.
“Bring vodka and ice”. Alexandra ran to fetch them. Andrei ***********ed a long willow switch and chopped it through the air, making a fearsome swish. The others looked around briefly before turning back to the choice of implements before them but he cut the air again, more viciously, and started towards Magda. She groaned. Andrei traced the line of her jaw with his strong fingers then seized her face and stared into her eyes. She held his gaze but let her long lashes fall and moaned again, low in her throat, when he flicked the end of the switch across her aching nipples, first one then the other.
“Look at me!” he hissed. Her eyes followed him as he moved back and to the side, giving himself room to swing. She licked her lips. He sliced the switch through the air again and then turned to the others. “Shall we wait for the vodka?” he asked. Dmitri had set the whip aside and was holding a bundle of birches up to the light, turning it back and forth. He shrugged his massive shoulders.
“As you will” he said casually.
Without warning, Andrei span around and brought a metre of wickedly supple willow whistling into Magda’s inner thigh. She had barely time to gasp before the switch described a fine figure-of-eight and cut into her other thigh at the same height, with the same devastating force. He landed poised on the balls of his feet with a dancer’s grace. Dull red welts stood out immediately on Magda’s alabaster thighs; her beautiful face contorted in agony and she strained her arms and legs against her bonds, fighting for breath. Andrei went to take a glass of vodka from Alexandra’s silver tray without a backward glance, placing the switch back whence it came. “Interesting” he remarked and sipped at his drink. Dmitri passed the birch to Pierre who nodded, drained his vodka and walked over to Magda. She twisted in her bonds to watch over her shoulder when he moved behind her.
“Keep your eyes to the front” he ordered quietly and she obeyed at once, turning her face towards the group. She took a deep breath and held it, waiting, looking from one to another and then there was a brief hiss and a sharp crack. Her hips were driven forward and the air escaped from her lungs – Pierre’s wiry body had spun right around in a circle as he struck the backs of her thighs with all his strength. Too quickly, Magda resumed her original position, taking her weight with her chained wrists and offering her arse up to invite the next blow. Pierre stood behind her, pulling her body against his with a long, hairy arm and held the birch up to her face.
“That made you wet” he challenged, and she nodded helplessly. Dmitri’s harsh laugh echoed around the hall. He strode over and seized the bar spreading Magda’s ankles, lifting it easily to chest height. She hung almost parallel to the ground but angled somewhat towards Pierre, who brought the birch down hard onto her tensed buttocks. He beat her again and again. Her soft cries became harsher and her breathing heavier until she turned her head and sank her teeth into the flesh of her upper arm, groaning. Pierre’s face was a demonic mask of glee as splinters of birch twig flew around the twisting form and her arse reddened and then turned purple under the punishment.
“Forget the birch” Dmitri commanded as he let the bar fall. He turned to Leon and said, “Let her taste steel”. Leon grinned, taking the cold, metal handle of a cruel scourge made from very fine braids of whipcord tipped with bright, sharp hooks. He waited while Pierre threw the birch contemptuously into a corner and strode back to join the others then he moved slowly forward to face her, holding the scourge before him at shoulder height.
“These whips will kill you.” Leon said, coldly “We will use them at the end, but we want you to know what to expect”. There was terror in her eyes at the sight of the cruel wire hooks, but she waited quietly and obediently to welcome their kiss. He struck and the scourge cut through the air almost noiselessly to wrap around both hips, clinging to her flesh for a moment before falling away and leaving nine deep, bloody cuts across her glowing skin. Her face was expressionless at first, then her brow furrowed in pain and she bit her lip. Her lightly muscled shoulders and arms tensed and her knuckles were white as she clutched in desperation at the chains suspending her. Then it was Grigori’s turn. He set down his glass, took up one of the bullwhips and indicated the others to his friends.
“Shall we begin?” he asked and went to stand beside where Magda hung passively, watching them wide-eyed. The others followed him and formed a ring around their victim, Dmitri standing directly in front of her with his whip trailing behind him across the flagstones. She looked around her, back to Dmitri, and then up at the vaulted ceiling - bracing her body for the coming ordeal. Grigori’s whip landed first, cutting into her back and wrapping around to smack into her bosom. A white stripe ran from her left nipple, over the curve of her right breast, around her ribs and across the small of her back. She had barely started to voice her pain when she caught her breath again at the bite of Andrei’s whip slicing down with devastating accuracy across her round buttocks and around her right thigh into the fork of her crotch. She was allowed a few seconds to take a lungful of air and release it in a howl of anguished abandon before Dmitri’s whip cracked viciously down the length of her oiled flesh from shoulder to calf and drove the air from her again.
The whips rained down on her from all sides but the men were long practiced and kept the timing and direction random; first she would endure six strokes coming in rapid succession from one side, and then she would be made to hang panting and weeping for a brief eternity until a length of whipcord from elsewhere cut into her without warning. Magda’s soft flesh was crisscrossed with terrible welts and she began a long, keening moan; Pierre slammed his whip across both of her nipples in one cruel stroke and her bladder emptied in great spurts to pool steaming between her legs on the cold floor. At this, Dmitri stepped up to her and, staring into her eyes the while, drove his fingers brutally into her cunt. She cried softly when he withdrew them and put them to her mouth to be licked and sucked clean. “
It is time” he told the others, still holding her gaze, and they came back from the table with the steel-tipped scourges. Smiling, he took one and stepped back.
“Not the face,” said Andrei, “that must be preserved” and he slashed his scourge viciously across Magda’s shoulder blades, sending a fine spray of blood spattering across the floor.
Her screams began to falter and quaver as the steel wire cut into her slender thighs and the soft swell of her belly, her breasts and back, down her flanks and up into her crotch; she was coated with so much blood that the individual cuts were no longer visible. The men finally rested when she stopped twisting and writhing and her chin fell to her chest. Then Dmitri stood before her with the braquemard until she sensed his presence and raised her head. She had just enough breath to gasp the words.
“The Pallid Mask” she breathed, before Dmitri took careful aim and slammed the blade under her ribs and upwards, then reached surely into the wound to pull the heart out of her chest and up to his mouth. His eyes closed in inexpressible bliss as her blood ran down his chin.