Author Topic: A Colonial Trial  (Read 9009 times)

darklord
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Re: A Colonial Trial
« Reply #15 on: August 22, 2017, 08:28:00 PM »
Excellent story as always. Thanks for the continued posts.

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: A Colonial Trial
« Reply #16 on: August 23, 2017, 03:24:33 PM »
Sarah crawled up onto the rocks, barely pulling herself from the growing waves of the sea. Her long swim for life had begun in calm waters, but the wind had picked up and the waves had buffeted her around, particularly as she approached the shore. Her whole body felt drained of strength as she slithered up and collapsed on a larger boulder, still dozens of yards off the shore. As she lay there with the sun beginning to fade away behind the trees, she wondered if this was truly her end. Could she even get to the shore as the waves crashed harder and harder? Would she die of chill out there as night came? Could she find her way to safety if she got to shore?

After an hour, and with light fading fast, she realized that the tide at least was going out. What had been rough water deep enough to knock her off her feet was now open ground, albeit soaked and pummeled with waves. But crossable. She waited as long as she dared for the water to recede more, but the fading sunlight prompted her to venture out with her bare feet onto the rocks and sharp edges of the shoreline. Slowly, barely a couple steps per minute, she made her way to the high-water mark. With relief and prayers of thanks she crawled up onto the forest floor, greeted with leaves and pine needles that could just as easily have been the softest silks to her at that moment. She stood and walked further into the woods, but realized all too easily how dire her situation remained. She was cold, wet, naked, lost, famished, and thirsty with night almost upon her.

She walked, keeping the shore on her right. With no other knowledge, she could think only to try returning to Piedmoore Point. It was her only home. Maybe knowing that the reverend tried to take her to Jamaica would change their minds about him and her. She recognized the desperation of her thinking, but had no other thoughts to fall back upon.

Within the hour it was dark, cloudy, and she couldn’t move. She soon couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. With the last possible light, she found some thick bushes and tried to curl up under them, shivering and crying herself to eventual sleep.

When she opened her eyes, having finally achieved slumber, she sat up and stretched. It was daylight, and late in the morning. She was standing when she gasped in shock and nearly jumped. Two men stood silently and motionless, not fifteen feet away, watching her. Both were Indians. She quickly clutched her hands over her cunt and tits. Such awful words, she fleetingly thought. She didn’t speak, and they barely seemed to even move. She guessed they were from the nearby Sarrenassetts tribe. Sometimes they came to Piedmoore Point for trade. The last wars with them had been over fifty years ago.

“Hello,” she said slowly. Her heart was racing. Wars or not, she realized they could kidnap and ‘adopt’ her into the tribe, and she would never see civilization again. Or they could just rape and murder her on the spot. Or they could feed and help her. But they just stared at her. “Hello,” she repeated herself. “I’m lost. I’m in trouble.”

One finally turned to the other and spoke, not in English but in their own tongue. Both were young men, probably unfamiliar with English. They conversed for a moment and turned back to her. “Bonjour,” one said.

French. She shook her head. “I don’t know French,” she said. “No French.” They looked annoyed, and the younger looked angry. Sarah continued standing, trying to hide her body. “Piedmoore Point?” she asked.

They conversed again with each other, keeping an eye on her. It seemed to be a disagreement. Over her, obviously. Whether to rape and dismember her? Whether to feed her and guide her to safety in Boston? She couldn’t tell, but they were each vehement and their voices grew angrier. Sarah started to slowly step back, but that caught both men’s attention right away. She remained rooted in place.

Finally they seemed to resolve it. The younger one grinned while the slightly older one just walked slowly away. Sarah stood terrified. What would happen? Removal of her fingers? Elevation to honorary Indian princess? There were so many tales out there, and so few actual witnesses to any of them.

The younger now came at her. She realized only too late the lustful look in his eye and he grabbed her shoulder and forced her to the ground.

“No, please, don’t do it!” she begged as he pushed her onto her back. He was tall, muscular as his kind tended to be, and she was no match. Both men were dressed in summer garb for Indians, with little clothing on, and she spotted his erection before he even got her down to the ground. “Please! Stop this!” she sobbed. “No! Don’t rape me! Don’t rape me!”

He wasn’t rough, but his iron grip moved her body as he wished it, parting her legs and pinning her hands above her head. She felt his cock at her cunt, pushing, sliding in tightly, hurting her as her countless pains never managed to heal. Each thrust was a stinging, blinding pain in her pussy. He was rubbing a bit different, hitting spots of her body that seemed to feel good in their own way. It was a lewder rape than the others, making her queasy with new sensations that just seemed wrong, but her weak and frenzied mind couldn’t process what she felt. She just felt raped, this time by a savage of the woods. Could she ever live with it? What if it became known? She was already as fallen as a woman could get.

His staying power was strong, and he changed their positions a few times, fucking her from behind as well as the front. But she did finally feel that hot ickiness filling her womb. Disgust ran through her mind. What if a brown baby shot out of her loins next year? What could she do?

She lay weeping, hoping he would leave her now, but he pulled her to her feet. “Oh god, what are you doing?” she asked as he held her hands behind her back. She felt the cords and realized he was tying her. Soon her hands were bound. Another loop went around her neck, and soon he could guide her forward on a leash. He walked briskly in the direction of his friend. Sarah was still exhausted and famished, and his fast pace was difficult. He continually yanked on her leash as they caught up with his friend. The older one glanced at her and smiled but said nothing. The two of them continued walking inland, away from the sea, towards wherever they were going. Sarah was utterly lost and out of hope. So she stumbled along, tripping, swaying, and feeling miserable in every possible way.

Hours later the two men stopped. They spoke among themselves again, seeing to argue. About her. Now the older one was eying her lustily, but the younger one was adamant. Even so, they argued for a while and seemed to reach an agreement. Now the older one forced Sarah to the ground, but facing down. Her hands were still bound, but he lifted up her hips. The younger man didn’t leave them alone, but stood watching. Sarah lay weeping, wondering which of her openings was in danger.

It was her ass. He spit onto his manhood, and then pressed it mightily into her anus. Sarah shrieked in pain, enough that the younger one slapped her face and shouted something at her. She guessed it was an order to be silent. But it was hard as the other man ass-raped her hard, jerking her whole body back and forth, driving her face and her tits into the leaves and twigs of the forest floor. But he finished up eventually and pulled out from her.

As they were sitting down and fetching some dried meat from pouches to eat, Sarah suddenly heard war whoops from all around them. She turned frantically, seeing another group of Indians coming out of the trees at them. Her two captors were on their feet in an instant, knives drawn, and Sarah barely had time to process the fight that began. Someone tackled her and she found herself under a man’s knee, lying on the ground yet again. There were some shouts and some cries of pain, and the scuffled moved away. She heard running off into the distance, but they regrouped around her in minutes.

Now Sarah looked up and saw eight Indian men gazing down at her bound and naked body. They looked slightly different than the other two. Different tribe. Not the Sarrenassetts. Or maybe they were and the two men weren’t. Or maybe neither was.

“Please tell me you speak English,” she said tearfully to them.

They looked among each other. “I speak the tongue of the Orange King,” one of them said slowly.

“Thank God,” she said.

“Who are you, a bound female, to address me so?” he asked. She wasn’t sure if he was bothered by her or not.

“My name is Sarah Miller,” she said. “I’m from Piedmoore Point.”

“This place is known to us, Sarah Miller.”

“Will you take me there?”

“We will not take you to Piedmoore Point. We will take you to our home and decide there how to proceed. You were the captive of the Mohanicans, but now you are the captive of the Sarrenassetts.”

“What, what will you do to me then?” she asked, trying not to cry.

“This question will be answered at home. To speculate now is without purpose. You will remain bound and you will march with us, Sarah Miller.”

Sadly, Sarah had no option but to go with them. They walked for a while, just as quickly as the Mohanicans had, and leaving her just as weak. Then they stopped, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

“Sarah Miller, at our home you will be judged and our actions in finding you will be evaluated by our chieftain. But now we eight men have a unique claim to you that could be lost later. We claim it now from your body. Lie down and do not resist or we will be forced to use tortures on you that the white peoples usually find unbearable even to watch.”

Now terrified, Sarah got herself down on the ground, spreading her legs wide and clenching her eyes shut in shame as they gathered to look at her open gash. One by one the men mounted her, piercing her opening with their cocks, flooding her womb with their man juices. How many, she desperately wondered, could she take before she ended up with a baby in her? Each of the eight took her in turn, the ordeal lasting well over an hour. The Sarah that stood up afterwards was more shamed and despondent than at any time of her life. Eight men raped her easily and calmly. What would happen in their village, with hundreds? Would they ever stop raping her long enough to let her womanhood heal up properly?

They walked again, and Sarah saw signs of settlement. There was tilled farmland, with crops in some. And soon enough they were in an Indian village. The Sarrenassetts presumably. They took her to a recognizable center of town, and there she saw it.

A fire was burning in a pit, with a line overhead for drying clothing. And on the line, she saw several thick English fashions, including the summer outercoat that Osborne Climewater wore during the voyage. He wasn’t on the boat anymore. He was there, in the village, having his clothes treated and dried for him.

Sarah’s mind rebelled. She didn’t know what to think anymore. Had he come to rescue her? Had she misunderstood back on the boat? Had he repented of his accusations? Was he there to kill her as a witness to his crime? Was the boat waiting somewhere nearby? She couldn’t even formulate the words in her head. It was just too confusing and she was terribly weak of body and mind, almost faint.

She didn’t wait long. The men dispersed, and others gathered around, talking amongst themselves. Soon enough there were older men there, probably the chief among them. And shortly after that, she spotted Osborne quickly leaving one of the huts and coming towards her. He was speaking to them. He was speaking their tongue!

“Sarah, I guess you can swim after all,” he said with a smile. “Come meet my friends.”

“Your friends?” she asked.

“I’ve ministered to this village for almost twenty years now. I count most of them as my friends.” He turned and spoke loudly to some of them, gesturing to Sarah. Suddenly they burst out in laughter and smiles.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“So, it looks like we’ve been reunited. Interesting.”

“Osborne, please tell me true what is going on? Did you betray me?” she asked.

“I did. Does that surprise you? I’ll get away eventually, but you have no future here nor anywhere else. Take my advice, Sarah. Beg the chief to trade you to a friendly tribe far away and live out your life as a pleasure captive there. It’s your best option right now.”

Sarah stared at him, mouth gaping open in shock. She hadn’t expected to hear anything so blunt, and the phrase pleasure captive sounded terrifyingly obscene. As the semen from nine rapes still stuck to her inner thighs, it wasn’t hard to guess its meaning. But it also meant she had no friends here and an open and active enemy, one who had convinced her to commit a major crime and then framed her for it.

Osborne began talking to one of the elders, probably the chief. The conversed for a short time, and she heard her own name, but the chief didn’t seem terribly impressed by Osborne’s words. Finally the chief switched and began speaking slowly in English.

“Reverend Climewater, many seasons have we known each other, but today I feel I am talking to a stranger. You speak to me in my language that you speak well, but I do not sense you do this from respect for me, but instead to keep your white-skinned female compatriot ignorant of your words against her.”

“Chief, this man has framed me for crimes!” Sarah cried quickly, trying to get her say in before she was cut off.

“Your words are also from a stranger,” he said to her. “I cannot learn the truth when there seems to be much dishonesty.” He turned to a group of men nearby and spoke to them. Osborne fidgeted as they spoke. Sarah stood there, useless and humiliated. Her hands were still bound and she was still leashed.

“I have given orders that I will repeat to you, Sarah Miller of Piedmoore Point, so that you may know them true. We will send a runner to your town and inform the people there that Osborne Climewater and Sarah Miller are our guests. If either of you is in disfavor, they will send a party to fetch either of you back there. Osborne Climewater, you have been our friend and shall have free movement within the village, but do not attempt to leave here. Sarah Miller, you are unknown to us and your feminine beauty both allures and distracts us. You shall be bound to the ground during the wait. No violence upon you will be permitted, but pleasures shall be granted at will. Osborne Climewater, make no contact with Sarah Miller during this time. If the town of Piedmoore Point sends word that they do not seek the two of you, Osborne Climewater will be freed with our friendship and apology as our atonement to the people of white skin for our trouble. Sarah Miller will be traded to a distant allied tribe at our earliest opportunity as the people of white skin’s atonement to us for their trouble. Everything will be then in balance.”

“But chief, I’ve done nothing wrong!” Sarah cried just before they seized her and dragged her to an open spot of ground. She screamed and tried to break loose as they drove four stakes into the ground and lashed her tightly to them, spreading her out wide, legs wide, naked and exposed to everyone. And what had the chief said? No violence, but pleasures at will? What did that even mean? They could rape her but not hit her?

As the assembled dozens of Indians dispersed, Sarah looked around in desperation. She saw no friendly faces. No one was willing to help her. It seemed her fate to lie naked and spread eagled on the dirt for days until the townsfolk came for her, probably to hang her at this point.

Within the hour, at least, some of the village women came by and gently fed her. She found their food different but tasty enough and healthy. None of them spoke English, at least not to her. She tried to ask them questions, but if they understood her they certainly weren’t answering. After the meal, they engaged in a curious ritual, spreading dyes onto her naked skin in patterns she couldn’t really see. But decorate her they did, in swirls and shapes with blues and reds, up and down her body. She had no idea what she looked like.

The afternoon played out with people mostly ignoring Sarah. She felt absurd and ridiculous, lying there stark naked like a rug while apparently a couple hundred men, women, and children walked past her from time to time. But as darkness came, so too did the men.

“Please, can’t you understand me?” she begged him, a lone brave who smiled at his good fortune while he knelt between her legs. “I don’t want this! This hurts me! Can’t you understand me? Please, no!” she sobbed, shaking her head wildly, but he utterly ignored her words and tone, casually lining up and thrusting himself into her. Once again she cried out as her injured cunt was pummeled with a cock until the hot stickiness flooded her. He smiled and got up to leave.

He hadn’t been gone even a minute when the next man appeared for her. They weren’t crowding. They weren’t fighting. They weren’t even really talking. But they were waiting their turns. Sarah cried wildly as the reality of her next few nights sank into her realization. One, two, a dozen, two dozen. She lost count before, sometime in the deepest darkest time of night, they finally ceased to visit her pussy.
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

Offline andypandy

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Re: A Colonial Trial
« Reply #17 on: August 24, 2017, 04:31:02 PM »
Wonderful to see Sarah back in peril again. Still no light at the end of her tunnel. Thankfully.  >:D

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: A Colonial Trial
« Reply #18 on: August 24, 2017, 05:27:37 PM »
The contingent of men strode out to the pillory, Pieter de Voore tried to lead them in some meaningful, menacing way, but only his own men seemed inclined to keep up with his long strides and stern demeanor. Sinclair and Goodeman walked slower, talking to each other about crops and the coming harvest season. Vetterman was quiet and stayed behind Goodeman, and his younger partner who no one had introduced yet held back further. Samuel Wilson walked with his teen son, a bit to the side, apparently talking about their sister/daughter’s new dress from Boston. Wilson had been remarkably unhelpful considering it was his shop that was burglarized. He certainly had no cause for such an attitude. It was not as though de Voore suspected him of any wrongdoing.

A sudden stray thought crossed him mind, and he almost faltered in his pace. Parshoot seemed oblivious, but Kleinmann glanced at his boss. de Voore resumed his pace, and soon they were at the pillory where Prudence Fairfield still stood, frazzled and broken. He saw the cum on her legs. Someone had enjoyed her during the night.

“Miss Fairfield,” he announced. “Your search yesterday was unfinished. We now shall finish it. Mr. Parshoot, if you please.”

“What else do you want?” Prudence whined? I’ve been here! I’ve been violated! Oh Lord, I’m ruined!”

“You were never that exalted,” de Voore said as Parshoot smiled and pried apart her ass cheeks.

“What? No!” she cried.

“Clenching will make only my job harder, not impossible,” Jan Parshoot said to her. “Please try to relax and it will be less hurting for you.”

“Please, magistrate, don’t allow this!” Prudence begged to Sinclair. “I’m truly innocent, I swear to the Lord.”

“When you are cleared of crimes, you will be freed,” Sinclair said. Prudence wanted to say more, but her face twisted and contorted right before their eyes as Parshoot inserted his fingers into her anus and felt around her innards. Her whole body shook, making her big breasts sway and her soft flesh jiggle. But her sobs overwhelmed her words. Of course a crowd had gathered to watch.

“There are no gems in the girl,” Parshoot said after a bit of deep searching. He used the bucket of water they carried out to wash his hand off.

“Then we should free her,” Goodeman said. “I see no need to detain her longer.”

“This girl has been unattended for over half a day, including all night,” de Voore snapped. “If she has an accomplice, he could easily have come by and removed the evidence. Plus she resisted a lawful search and must serve a term of punishment!”

“Keeping her here won’t make the gems show up in her ass, sir,” Vetterman said, speaking up finally.

“But it will keep her from fleeing town, and it will allow her to serve out a proper sentence!”

“That is my call to make, gentlemen,” Sinclair said, looking uncomfortable.

“May I remind you, sir, of my granted authority by the royal governor’s office?” de Voore said.

“I read the letter, sir,” Sinclair said. All eyes were on him. de Voore chose silence at that moment. “She, um, Prudence Fairfield will serve out a sentence for obstruction until tomorrow at noon.”

“Please, protect me, sirs,” Prudence managed to sob. “I’ve been raped. Many men came.”

“We will discuss Prudence Fairfield’s disposition before her release,” de Voore stated coldly. “I don’t wish for her to run away to Boston.”

“As you wish,” Sinclair said, turning and heading off. They left Prudence sobbing in her pillory. The constables departed.

“Mr. Parshoot,” de Voore said, speaking in Dutch, “Conduct a full investigation of Wilson’s shop. Look for irregularities. Take Kleinmann.”

“Of course, sir,” Parshoot replied. They departed, with Parshoot telling Wilson he wished to check the crime scene again.

“Do you wish to converse with us again, Mr. de Voore?” Goodeman asked.

“I wish to understand your system. Your way of life here in the towns,” de Voore said, softening his expression. “I am accustomed to larger cities. Amsterdam. London. Or even New York or Boston. A crime there would be handled very differently. They have dedicated investigators. They have dedicated judicial employees. But here I discover that the town preacher is the prosecutor and the chief of police is the defense counsel. I clearly am out of my element, as you say in English.”

“We don’t have a lot of trials,” Sinclair said. “I’m the only judge, and it is not even my primary duty.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for the preacher, the shepherd of the flock so to speak, be the defender? Wouldn’t the policeman be the prosecutor?”

“We trade off,” Goodeman said. “We all know everyone. There isn’t a person in Piedmoore Point I don’t know well. With Thomas it is the same, and Osborne as well. We all have our opinions, but we need to do the court’s business.”

“Where, may I ask, is the good reverend? I have yet to meet him,” de Voore asked.

“I don’t rightly know,” Goodeman said. “I was seeking him as well.”

“You don’t suppose something has happened to him? Something untoward?” de Voore asked. “There is still probably an unknown thief running about free.”

“Oh, I doubt it’s come to that,” Sinclair said, but he sounded unconvinced. “But I should like to find him. Cadwallader, didn’t your constables locate him?”

“He was not in his quarters nor anywhere in the church when they called upon him.”

“Look further,” Sinclair said. “This is becoming odd.”

“Thank you, gentlemen, I understand better now. You seem to have made good allowance for your smaller population.” He nodded to them both and headed a different direction.

“Well that was kinder than most of the big city folk act,” Goodeman said.

“Yes. Indeed. Why do I take no comfort in that?”

Blocks away, Parshoot and Kleinmann were conducting their business at Wilson’s shop and home. Parshoot had the ledgers open while Kleinmann again examined the window frame. They both turned when they heard the rustle of satin, and were presented with the beauty of a teen girl dressed in finery that failed to conceal her remarkable charms.

“Good day to you fine gentlemen,” she said with a hesitant smile. “We have not been introduced. I am Chastity Wilson, my father is Samuel Wilson.”

“Miss Wilson,” Parshoot said.

“Please, it is a small community here. Call me Chastity. My friends call me Chass, which sounds odd, I know.”

“Perhaps Chastity, then, until we can honor ourselves with your proper friendship,” Parshoot said.

“I’m very happy that you are here to aid my father. The loss of the gems hurt our fortunes badly. The insurance policy will be a godsend for our recovery.”

“It is our job to ensure that for members with goodness of standing the Guild pays for them,” Parshoot said. Chastity gave a little giggle.

“I’m sorry, but you have such a charming way of speaking, sir.”

“Please pardon my speaking. Language is not my strength, and I studied more French than English. I still am learning it.”

“You come from Amsterdam!” she blurted out before blushing and recovering. “Such a fine city I’ve heard. So many interesting diversions and entertainments. It must be difficult to be a young lady of virtue, though.”

“We Dutch are famous throughout Europe for our open attitudes on such things,” Parshoot said. “Or perhaps we are being infamous rather.” Kleinmann was smiling a little and moving closer to the pair. “Unlike my German colleague here, who hails from Dresden where they are perfectly dour at all times.”

“Dortmund,” Kleinmann said. “I come from Dortmund, not Dresden.”

“Of course.”

“It’s all fascinating to me,” Chastity said. “I’ve only been as far as Boston, and only once. The pleasures, the pleasures of the world are a mystery to me.”

“I see. And which of the pleasures do you mean to speak of?” Parshoot asked.

“I think all of them.”

“I see.”

“I’m very innocent,” she said, pushing the theme. She put a smile on her face. “I suppose that seems very quaint to men of the world such as yourselves.”

“If you are innocent, do you wish to become guilty?” Kleinmann said in his thickly accented English.

“Heh. That is a good way to put it,” she said, closing the door so the three of them were alone. Her eyes darted from one man to the other and back again. Her body was trembling as she took a few steps closer to them.

Parshoot walked over to her. “You are not being a subtle young woman,” he said. “But that is acceptable to us.” He touched his fingers to her bodice clasps and felt her shake at the touch. But she smiled and began working the fastenings herself. As her chest began to grow bare as the fabric fell away, Kleinmann also moved closer to the young girl. She gasped and breathed hard as the two foreign men surrounded her. But she kept the smile on her face as her clothing dropped away. She wore very few undergarments, but those too were soon lying on the floor, discarded and kicked aside. Now the naked young girl stood between the two dressed me, smiling, trembling badly, and breathing hard.

“Truly, this is completely new to me,” she said.

“Completely? You have no young male friend in the town?” Parshoot asked.

“No, never,” she said. “This is, it’s more fun, don’t you think? To do it, and be dirty about it? Yes?”

“Dirtiness is what we can show you,” Parshoot said, cupping her two breasts with his hands, rubbing his thumbs over her hard nipples.

“Yes! Oh yes, that feels good! Pray do continue!” she said. Suddenly Kleinmann’s finger was up her pussy. She gasped, and her jaw quivered. A few tears broke free from her eyes.

“You, you give me a treat, sir,” she said, grinning even wider, but soon her efforts faltered. She jerked herself free of both men and fled across the room to the corner. “I can’t do it!” she sobbed. “I simply cannot!”

Parshoot followed her closely, with Kleinmann sauntering to the door first to lock it before joining them. “What is it that you cannot do?” Parshoot asked.

“I can’t, I mustn’t. I’m not a whore! I can’t do this!” she cried.

“It seems that you are indeed a whore,” Parshoot said, grabbing her arm. He was grinning now. For once, Pieter wasn’t going to get to go first. “And later we shall be discussing what happened here just now. But first you will perform!”

“No, you don’t understand. I must go now! I cannot do this. I won’t!”

“Oh, you will,” Parshoot assured her, shoving her backwards onto an empty section of table. “We insist.”

“No!” she cried, realizing their intent. She rolled away and darted for the door, only to find it locked. As she fumbled with the lock, Kleinmann yanked her away and hurled her to the floor. She fell and skidded, crying out in pain before the two men were on top of her.

“Hold her!” Parshoot yelled in Dutch. “She’s not pulling this nonsense with us!” As Kleinmann pinned her to the floor, Parshoot removed his trousers and exposed his cock to her. Chastity’s eyes flew open wide at the sight of it, and she looked repulsed. As he got down on top of her, she turned her head and puked onto the floor beside her. He ignored the puddle and parted her legs to drive himself into her cunt. He felt her break and felt the hot blood surround his cock. A virgin at last, his rather than Pieter’s. He drove into her hard, angrily, wondering a bit what she’d been trying to do so badly, but not caring that much. Instead he focused on hammering the ignorant little slut and tease, pounding her hard and fast in her extraordinarily tight little box. She screamed in real pain with each thrust in and each yank out. Harder and harder he went until pumping his seed into her womb.

“Your turn,” he said as he pinned her arms and Kleinmann took his place. The older man’s cock was longer and thicker, and he wasted no time before slamming it into the young girl’s pussy. She shrieked in agony as he pulverized her cunt with his manly tool. She flailed about, threatening to break free of Parshoot’s grasp until he punched her on her nose and adjusted his grip. Now she was better secured, and utterly helpless against Kleinmann’s savagery.

He was done soon enough, and the two men dressed and looked down at their girl, curled up and screaming in pain as she clutched her crotch and belly. It seemed likely she was injured inside, as she continued shaking with agony.

“Well?” Parshoot asked.

Kleinmann gestured to a closet. “I think they have room in there?” He grabbed Chastity by her ankle and dragged her to the closet. “Who sent you?” he asked. “Why did you try to seduce us?”

“I, I…” she wept incoherently.

“Knock when you wish to talk,” Kleinmann said before shutting and locking the closet door on her. Then they went back to work.

“It can only have been the father,” Kleinmann said. “Does Mr. de Voore suspect him?”

“He must. We are here, aren’t we?” Parshoot said. “Maybe he was working with Sarah Miller to fake a burglary.”

“And he doesn’t want us snooping,” Kleinmann said. “He gave us his daughter just to distract us.”

“The Guild insurance fund will not pay out for a fake burglary,” Parshoot said. “Let’s see what we can find.”
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

gscmar64
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Re: A Colonial Trial
« Reply #19 on: August 24, 2017, 06:30:16 PM »
Great chapter, love the idea that if you can't get the truth, fuck em for it!

Offline andypandy

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Re: A Colonial Trial
« Reply #20 on: August 25, 2017, 04:18:09 AM »
The plot continues to thicken. Three daring damsels in distress to keep track of now! Each in her own private hell. Thanks for not forgetting that rectal cavity search for the diamonds. A little disappointed they did not do a full fisted search to make sure, but perhaps that would have killed the poor lass?
« Last Edit: August 27, 2017, 07:48:03 AM by andypandy »

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: A Colonial Trial
« Reply #21 on: August 25, 2017, 10:00:20 AM »
I think you have to work up to fisting. But on the other hand, she couldn't have hidden anything deep, for the same reason.
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: A Colonial Trial
« Reply #22 on: August 25, 2017, 11:33:50 AM »
Climewater paced and grumbled during the long wait. It would take a couple of days for the round trip, and then there would be questions about his departure. Meanwhile, every time he went walking in the woods, there were some friendly Sarrenassett warriors within waving distance, more of them the further off he ventured. These people, he realized, were much smarter than he’d believed possible for half-Christianized savages. And worst of all was that he couldn’t get close to Sarah Miller and either fuck her or strangle her. Luckily there was Lonely Doe to keep him company evenings.

Across the village, Sarah entertained more company than she ever wanted to see again. Each day the women of the tribe fed her good food and washed her up from her eliminations. For a half hour, she was not bound to the dirt until they tied her once again. And each day they decorated her skin with bright colors that she finally learned were allocating access to her body among the various clans within the tribe, lest they fight over her. She couldn’t really tell most of them apart easily, particularly as they came for her in the dark. But she felt there had been many dozens of them, maybe a hundred or more during her stay. She couldn’t be more fallen.

And then she was looking up into the face of a new white man. It was daylight, not the time for the men to come for her. But there he was.

“I’d ask you if you were Sarah Miller,” he said in a thick accent, “But I doubt really that you could be anyone else. My name is Jan Parshoot, and I’ve come with your town’s contingent to see what’s happening here.”

“Who are you?” she asked. His name meant nothing.

“Oh, of course. Forgive me. I am a junior investigator for the International Gem and Jewelers’ Guild. We came to Piedmoore Point to investigate the theft of valuable gems of worth from Samuel Wilson’s shop. I believe you are familiar with this case.”

“I’m innocent!” she cried, tugging at her bonds, feeling very helpless in front of this strange white man.

“Perhaps. We are telling the chief of these Indians that the company of both you and Osborne Climewater are much wanted back in the town.”

“I did nothing! It was Osborne Climewater! He seduced me! He convinced me to help with the burglary! He has the gems! He always has.”

Parshoot looked surprised at her outburst. “Well, your testimony will be noted,” he said.

“Just listen. Just believe me!”

“In time, Miss Miller,” he said with a widening grin. She didn’t like his expression, and when he knelt down on the ground in front of her Sarah couldn’t help but groan in frustration and shame. He soon had his cock sliding in and out. It still hurt. She’d had no time to heal at all, with fresh fucking every single day. But at least he was alone. It was her sole solace as she sobbed while he dressed.

Before long Sarah found herself handcuffed, leashed, and walking behind a pack horse. She was still naked. Climewater walked freely, speaking to Parshoot, as well as constable David Tumbridge. She couldn’t tell what they were saying, but she guessed Osborne was glibly lying his way out of trouble yet again. Two other townsmen accompanied them, militiamen by their looks. She vaguely knew them both but spoke to them rarely in her lifetime.

Nightfall came, and the small party camped out along the path. Sarah was the first item of business. They’d obviously decided to stake her out again. Parshoot was the first to rape her that evening after supper, as the darkness closed around them. Then the two townsmen. Then Tumbridge. Finally Osborne was allowed onto her, and he vigorously raped her with hatred and anger.

“Why did you do it?” Sarah wept when he was done.

“Because you are a good lay and God wills it,” he told her.

“No. Why did you frame me! I never did anything to you.”

He shrugged. “So what? Do you think you are special, even to God? You are not. And I’ve already fed Parshoot a line that will earn me exoneration.”

“What did you tell him?”

“And give you time to formulate a reply?”

Sarah had no reply. He had probably beaten her yet again. Ever since she foolishly spread her legs and opened her mind for him, her life had spiraled downward. There seemed no end.

In the morning, after a brief breakfast and a group effort at raping Sarah, they were on their way again, expecting to reach the town by nightfall. They marched fast, ate little along the way on the last day, and reached Piedmoore Point before supper.

Right away Sarah noticed something odd. Her roommate, Prudence, was standing in the pillory, stark naked, looking weak and sickly. How long had she been there, to degrade so much? And a new pillory stood there, with two stations. They were filled, and she recognized Chastity and Anna Wilson, wife and daughter of Samuel Wilson. And they each were naked as well. As they walked past, she saw the familiar, revolting, signs of cum leaking from them and running down their thighs. Chastity’s young, slim body bore the marks of a light whipping. Anna Wilson, considerably fleshier of body and ample of bosom, just stood glumly, staring ahead, expressionless. Were they now implicated? Sarah knew she had to confess about the theft. But she had to convince them it was Climewater who planned it all.

Sinclair looked firm and angry when the group went to visit with him at the town meeting hall. “Reverend Climewater, this is most irregular behavior,” he said.

“I am sure it looks that way, Thomas,” Climewater replied. “I’d like to discuss it with you. I’d rather the whore not be present, though.”

Sinclair turned to Vetterman. “Is the next pillory ready?”

“It is, your honor,” the constable said.

“Put Sarah Miller in it, in the square, but not close enough to converse with the others.”

“Please, magistrate, let me tell you what happened!” Sarah cried. “I’m willing to confess.”

“And we shall listen in due time. Get her out of here!”

Vetterman pulled Sarah from the room. Along the way he sent Tumbridge off to the workshop to fetch the pillory, then escorted Sarah to the square. A crowd seemed to be ever present there, and it grew slightly seeing a fourth naked woman there.

“Please, sir, let me explain everything. You are a constable, aren’t you? I want to confess to a crime!”

“Very well. What have you done?”

“I participated in the gem theft. And I was with my accomplice about to fornicate when we were interrupted. But he has the stones, and it was his plan. It was Osborne Climewater, I swear to you!”

“The reverend Climewater? That’s unlikely.”

“He was taking me and the gems to Jamaica. We got on the boat to flee. But he never intended to keep me. He betrayed me as well as the town. It’s the truth, I swear it! Please, believe me!”

“That’s not up to me, Miss Miller. Tell it to the magistrate, or to the court when you are surely re-tried.”

Tumbridge arrived, huffing as he dragged the heavy pillory along. It was built just as the others, locking her legs spread and bent over. She wept as they placed her in the fowl thing again. She was a good fifty feet from the other women, from Prudence and the other two she did not know well. She couldn’t even talk to them, nor see them once she was locked in place.

For hours Sarah stood there until it was near dark. Then someone walked up to her, and for a moment she thought Osborne had come for her, but she realized it was a different man when she got a better look. He was a stranger to her.

“Sarah Miller. We meet now. I am Pieter de Voore, investigator for the International Gem and Jewelers’ Guild. I hear you have been confessing to the very crime that brought me here. Please tell me of it.”

“It was Osborne Climewater’s idea,” she said, and repeated quickly the story she’d been telling Parshoot and Vetterman. de Voore listened without a single change in his stern expression. He asked a few questions about the planning and commission of the burglary.

“I will note your claims in my investigation,” he said. “We shall discuss this further. Do not worry about spending the night locked in this pillory. I shall arrange different quarters for you, Miss Miller.” His eyes roamed her body as he spoke the last line.

“Thank you,” she said. She didn’t know how else to respond. de Voore walked away, and she was alone again with the gawkers and the troublemakers and the fading daylight. An hour later Tumbridge came to release her.

“You won’t be causing trouble now, right?” he asked. “Because I can chain you if I have to.”

“I won’t cause trouble,” Sarah said. She fidgeted, wanting to use her hands to cover herself. It seemed like a trivial thing after so many days. She just longed to put the ordeal behind her. But she kept her hands at her sides as Tumbridge walked her through town to a boarding house. She was puzzled until he led her up to a door and knocked.

de Voore answered. “Thank you, constable. That will be all,” he said. Sarah realized his intent, but was too worn down to resist. He was going to fuck her. That just made him the latest man to use her body. She walked in and sat on the edge of the bed.

“How good of you to come,” he said to her.

“I’ll do what you say, sir. I won’t cause trouble,” she replied sadly but resigned to it.

“You won’t cause trouble. I see. I see. How very admirable of you, to cause me no trouble.”

“Is there something you wish of me, sir?” she asked, suddenly wary. de Voore suddenly seemed extremely menacing to her. Her whole body and mind told her she was in danger.

“Lie down on the bed and spread out your arms and legs. I am going to tie them down,” he said.

“Oh, but sir, I’ll take any position you ask. There’s no need to bind me,” she said, trying to force a smile.

“I gave you your instruction.”

Sarah gulped but did as he ordered, spreading her body out for him. He was probably just scaring her. He was indeed scaring her. And true to his word, he bound her quickly and tightly to the corners of the bed. Sarah was completely helpless, and the more so when he quickly stuffed a cloth into her mouth and tied it in place. Now she was gagged and silenced. She could scream murder and get no help from anyone in the building.

“And now, Sarah Miller, we will have a longer interrogation,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to end it by providing me with relevant information.” He reached into his baggage and began pulling out leather items. Metal items. Sharp objects. Sarah’s eyes bugged open with terror, and she did try to scream. It was a muffled and useless attempt.

“We shall save the bloodier items for closer to morning, agreed?” he said. “But don’t worry. This is certainly going to hurt you a lot!”

Sarah threw her head back and wailed into the wall and ceiling, praying for someone to hear her cries. No one did.

He brought over a couple of candles and a long, thin spike with a sharp end. “I hear you had a piercing several days ago. This will be different,” he said as he held the spike over the candles, letting it warm up until it glowed. Sarah was gasping to keep her breath steady, her body sweating. de Voore pulled the spike from the candles and pressed the sharp tip to her left nipple, holding her tit still with his other hand, and pushing the glowing hot spike into her tit flesh. Sarah felt the horrid stinging burn and shrieked, jerking about. He slid it several inches into her body, waiting a bit, and pulled it out. Then he held it over the candle again.

“I do so love your cries of pain. Female agony is the most wonderful sound and sensation,” he said. Sarah tried to beg him to stop. Even if she could have spoken in words, he seemed unlikely to stop. He just heated up the spike again until it glowed and then pressed it into her right nipple.

On and on it went. The thin spike left almost no mark and drew no blood. But it pierced and burned pain centers all over her body as he moved randomly around her front side. Her sexy bits, breasts and cunt, got extra attention, with her clit alone getting pierced over ten times during his long torture of her body. But she was tortured all over. Her legs, arms, belly, cheeks, all of it. Sarah just screamed in pain and terror, praying each minute for it to end as the hour grew late. She’d gone into his room just after sunset, and he was still at it when the town bell chimed midnight and for over an hour after that.

How could it be happening to her, she desperately wondered. What had happened to her life, that she was now a naked sex prisoner to a sadist? There was only one answer. Climewater had happened to her.

de Voore finished off, eventually, by mounting and raping her where she lay. It was a relief to finally feel his thick cock inside her, punishing her cunt. He fell asleep beside her, and she eventually slumbered too.

Sarah awoke from a whip crashing across her chest. She screamed into the gag, opening her eyes and almost seeing Osborne before realizing again that it was de Voore. He was thrashing her with a short flogger. When she was good and awakened, he mounted her and fucked her again, taking his time, grinding his cock into her perpetually wounded pussy. He’d pried her open with his fingers last night briefly between pokes, and commented on how blistered and scarred she was down in there, and how she should treat the best part of herself with better love and care. Now he just fucked her, sliding along her cunt injuries. She was in the usual pain. She strained at her bonds, out of instinct more than a belief she would get herself freed.

“This is going to be very unpleasant,” he said to her after he’d shot his load into her womb. He was gathering more devices. “It will go down your throat, and it will cut you on the inside, in your belly, and cause your stomach to empty into your insides. It is a painful way to die.”

He paused, letting the impact of his words sink in. Sarah had only been halfway listening to him by then. But now she realized he was talking of killing her. “Painful, but hidden,” he said. “I will simply say that you collapsed. No one will ever know.”

She tried to scream, to speak, to say something. “I realize you can’t imagine why I would do something like that. Why would I kill you now? Or ever? Well, Sarah, you’ve gotten caught up in something, and it’s your bad luck that your continued living will just make trouble for us. So, goodbye.”

He sat down on her chest and pulled the gag out in order to jam the metal rods down her throat. She screamed frantically as soon as the gag was off. “Help! Murder! Murder!” she screamed, but he grabbed her face and pressed the sharp irons into her mouth, trying to get them down her throat.

The door to the room suddenly burst open, nearly flying off its hinges. As de Voore turned, Sarah was able to see both constables, with Goodeman behind them, and other men further back that she couldn’t make out.

“What’s this?” Vetterman asked, stepping in. “Having a spot of fun, de Voore?”

“He’s trying to kill me!” Sarah cried. “He’s up to something.”

“Very likely, yes,” Goodeman said. “Bring this man to the town hall, and his associates too. Have a posse standing by. We’re going to resolve this business today.”
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: A Colonial Trial
« Reply #23 on: August 25, 2017, 01:30:14 PM »
Climewater stood in the unoccupied room when de Voore was escorted in. “I’d like to talk to the good reverend for a bit, if you don’t mind,” de Voore said to Vetterman.

“Alright.”

The door closed and the two men faced each other. “This is not working out well,” de Voore said. “What did you say? I was taking care of Sarah Miller when I was interrupted and brought here!”

“I haven’t said anything!” Climewater nearly hissed. “Those sailors I hired threw me off the back of their ship after I had them do the same to Sarah. She’s turning into quite the problematic whore.”

“Fine, I don’t really care anymore about that. I have two outstanding issues in my mind right now. The first is why those men broke open my door this morning and nearly dragged me out. I was in the middle of putting Sarah out of her misery.”

“And the second?”

“Do you have the gems you stole?”

“Of course! They haven’t left my person since I got them.”

“Show them to me!”

“Here?”

“You’re paying me with them, aren’t you? Show me the treasure.”

Glancing at the door, Climewater dug into his vestments and pulled out a small satchel, which he opened and poured a handful of gems onto the table. They shined and glistened in the morning sunlight. de Voore scooped them up and peered at them closely before growling something in unintelligible Dutch. His eyes flared so hard Climewater took a step back.

“You are a fool! You are a colossal idiot of the first order! I cannot believe we share the same paternity! Your mother must have been dumb as a cow. These gems are not worth three thousand pounds! They might be worth one hundred!”

Climewater’s face went pale. He reached for the gems in de Voore’s hands, but the Dutchman clenched his fist and put the stones in their satchel into his own pocket. “As this is the only payment I’m likely to get now, I’m keeping all of them!”

At that exact moment, the door opened and the town officers entered. Sinclair and Goodeman were there, as well as the councilmen. Parshoot and Kleinmann were escorted in, along with two other men. Climewater knew neither of them.

“It appears some introductions are in order,” Sinclair said. Mr. de Voore, Parshoot, and Kleinmann of the International Gem and Jewelers’ Guild, these gentlemen are Mr. Axelrod and de Jong of the International Gem and Jewelers’ Guild, arrived just today to investigate the insurance claims on the theft of some gem stones.

Goodeman and his constables looked surprised, and Climewater was still fuming. de Voore glanced at the newcomers. “Hello Reginald, hello Willem. I didn’t expect to see you gentlemen here.”

“These are the imposters?” Axelrod asked, turning to Sinclair. “They are my colleagues. And Pieter de Voore is actually my superior. What is this about imposters in the town causing trouble?”

“They, well, their presence has been disruptive. And there is the matter of the timing,” Sinclair stammered. He turned. “Bring the other one in!”

Soon they were joined by another stranger. The guildmen glanced at him briefly. “This is, I believe, Henry Schott, of the Boston office,” de Voore said.

“Yes, sir,” the newcomer said. “Well, I was asked to ask a few questions about some timelines not adding up, you see.”

“Speak sensibly, man,” de Voore said. “What is on your mind?”

“Well, sir, you told Richard Whitman Benally, our master in Boston, than you received word in New York and came to investigate, but Mr. Benally didn’t see how that was possible. Even this time of year with the most passable roads, you can’t get from New York to Boston so quickly. And when these two gentlemen came through on their way to Piedmoore Point, well, it seemed suspicious.”

“I happened across the courier en route to New York!” de Voore snapped. “I never said I was there at the time. And as time matters in these investigations, I re-routed myself and my team here. The courier must have neglected to report that. Or he simply didn’t understand. The man was not a sharp nail, I assure you all of that!”

“But Mr. Benally said you were in New York.”

“I’m afraid I woke him. He heard me wrong. But as I clearly am not an imposter, perhaps we can let this absurd line of inquiry drop.”

“Yes, indeed,” Axelrod said. “Colonial communications are always so troublesome.”

“What we need, now, is a new trial to commence immediately!” de Voore said. “I have the authority under the Royal Governor’s Office of Massachusetts to make such a demand.”

“A trial for whom? On what charges?” Goodeman asked.

“Sarah Miller. Chastity Wilson. Anna Wilson. Samuel Wilson. Prudence Fairfield. On various charges related to the burglary and to fraud. I will serve as the lead prosecutor. Reverend Climewater, I appoint you to serve as defense for all of the accused in a single trial. Mr. Sinclair, I assume a trial venue can be readied by noon?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“Then we shall get to it, gentlemen. Now if you will excuse me, I will brush up on Massachusetts ordinances.” He quickly left the room, his two associates following.

“Well, at least we’ll be done with all of this soon,” Sinclair said to Climewater. “Now you get to defend Sarah Miller. How’s that for a turnabout?”

“Yes, most amusing,” Climewater said through gritted teeth. As he left the room, it occurred to him that at least he probably wasn’t being set up to be convicted himself. If he knew his half-brother at all, the brunt of the law would fall on the four women. Samuel Wilson’s role still seemed unclear to him.

At noon, the largest crowds ever were assembled in the town square. Besides virtually every resident, word had gotten to the Sarrenassetts village, and several dozen stood silently watching. All the sailors of the various ships in the harbor also gathered to watch. Finally, folks from the neighboring towns, having caught word of the scandals in Piedmoore Point, had filtered in just in time to be treated to the public trial.

Standing to one side, under guard, the five defendants awaited their ordeal. All of the women had been kept naked on de Voore’s orders, lest they need to be searched or examined once again. Sarah stood at the end of the line. Her hands were chained behind her back, the only defendant so restrained, after she panicked that morning  while being removed from de Voore’s room. Tears flowed from her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. But it was.

“All come to attention for the court!” Joshua Glendon shouted, serving as bailiff again. “The honorable magistrate Thomas Sinclair shall now begin procedings!”

“The court is in session,” Sinclair said, taking his seat again at the outdoor bench. “Prosecution, please summarize the cases.”

“Gladly, your honor. Pieter de Voore, speaking for the prosecution. The cases are very simple. Against Samuel Wilson and his wife Anna Wilson, the charges are that they engaged in multiple cases of fraud, passing off inferior gems as higher quality items and selling them as such. Our audit of their books shows this has been going on for some time, probably for years. Anyone who has purchased gems or jewelry from the Wilsons has probably been cheated!”

He paused for murmurs of shock and anger to run through the crowds. “Against their daughter and son, no fraud charges are filed as no proof is present, but against their daughter Chastity Wilson stands the charge of attempted bribery, attempted fornication, lascivious behavior, and assault. For on the orders of her father, she attempted to bribe my associates with full nudity and sex to distract them from their duties and to soften their attitudes. Upon being rejected, she physically assaulted them both, failing of course.”

He paused again to let the town mentally pass judgement on Chastity. She stood, weeping, but then burst out in anger. “You’re wrong!” she screamed. “It was never father! It was my mother! She led the fraud as she secretly ran the business. My father married into the gem and jewelry business but never mastered it. My mother browbeat him into going along in his limited capacity as she swindled our town blind! And it was her,” she paused, breaking down crying, “It was she that made me debase myself and act whorishly towards the investigators. I knew of her activities and I knew what would happen if we were found out. So I went along with it! But the men raped me when I tried to stop myself!”

“That’s enough. You’ll have a chance to testify,” de Voore said. “Be silent or your voice will be silenced with the scold’s bridle!”

Chastity continued to cry, but said no further words. Anna Wilson stood shaking in humiliation and rage. Samuel just looked beaten down.

“And finally, the action that inadvertently brought everything to life, there is the matter of the theft of these inferior gem stones. I charge that Sarah Miller, who has confessed to the burglary, is at least a willing participant. But on the matter of her accomplice, she has flagrantly attempted to besmirch the name of your very own Reverend Osborne Climewater! Sarah Miller condemns the very man who is now attempting to defend her actions, if you can believe that!”

Sarah listened in growing horror as the crowds roared their hatred. By the time she spoke, it would no longer matter what she said. They already hated her. She had no chance.

“The truth, gentlemen, I submit to you is far more lurid, tawdry, and revolting than anyone had dared to believe, because the people of Piedmoore Point are too good and wholesome to notice the foulness before them. Sarah Miller’s accomplice in crime and her sexual partner in fornication is none other than her supposed roommate Prudence Fairfield!”

Prudence’s cry of horror was utterly drowned out by the roar and catcalls of the gathered hundreds of spectators. Sarah just mentally sank right there. Even the dream of salvation was gone now. This de Voore person had spun a tale she could never repudiate. And she guessed the part about the gems was accurate, too. She’d been doomed right from the start.

The first witness was the defendant Samuel Wilson. Under de Voore’s revised examination, he fully and totally admitted to his own and his wife’s crimes, throwing himself on the mercy of the court.

Anna Wilson’s examination was more colorful, as the older woman swore and shook her fists, jiggling her ample naked womanly flesh with her animated antics until the scold’s bridle was produce and placed on her head. Chastity mere repeated what she said until the point where she accused the men Parshoot and Kleinmann of rape and beatings.

“I plead guilty to everything,” she sobbed, shaking uncontrollably. “The men did not assault me, and I retract my accusation and beg the court to show me mercy as much as Christian charity dictates.”

Prudence was next on the stand, but said nothing. She was just weeping and muttering isolated words, punctuated with various ‘please’, ‘no’, and ‘mercy’s. de Voore was not done with her, though.

“I insist that this defendant be examined for her virginity,” he said. “While she has had damnable relations with another woman, we cannot rule out that this unmarried woman has had relations with men as well. I have read that the precedent exists in this jurisdiction for the entire town to wisely examine her body for signs of past fornication. I demand that this be done as well now!”

“Agreed,” Sinclair said. “Bailiff, lash the defendant’s hands above her head to the tree branch and spread her legs with stakes in the ground. I don’t want any struggling.”

“Please, oh god, no! Don’t!” Prudence wailed as she was tied, arms overhead and legs spread. One by one, all of the adult males present at the trial filed past the young woman and pushed their fingers as far into her pussy as they could manage, all confirming that she was indeed not a virgin. And thus, she was found to be a whore and a fornicator.

Sarah was last. She was trembling badly as de Voore began. “Theft, perjury, fornication with both men and women, making false accusations! There seems to be no limit to what this young woman has been up to. I contend that it was Sarah Miller who masterminded the theft of what she honestly believed to be three thousand pounds worth of gemstones. It was Sarah Miller who convinced her roommate, with little effort albeit, to carry out the burglary. It was Prudence Fairfield who was with Sarah about to fornicate when they were discovered, and who ran off with the gems, probably to bury them somewhere in the woods. Even now, it is likely that a hundred pounds worth of gems sits under some tree stump, to be found someday, perhaps in future generations, and perhaps never. But Sarah Miller operated the entire scheme! Sarah Miller, after attempting to escape justice, tried to accuse your town’s finest citizen the Reverent Osborne Climewater of noxious crimes such as rape and theft in order to distract from her own overwhelming guilt. I repeat, her guilt is overwhelming! There can be no defense of this vile woman! Not this time!

“And at this time, I contend that Sarah’s virginity is in fact gone, and that she is a fornicator with unknown men as well as women, and that the town shall conduct a public vaginal exam on her just as it did on Prudence Fairfield.”

Sarah shook and wept as they took her over to the tree and bound her. One by one, all the people she knew in her entire life walked by and once again shoved their fingers into her cunt. She couldn’t even make eye contact with them, so badly was she shamed. They dove deep up into her, finding no barrier, finding her a woman, and a fallen one at that. Nor were they gentle. Running their fingers over her blistered and cut labia, they used many fingernails to further scratch up her insides and pinch her tender flesh painfully, even as the constables watched and saw nothing.

It was hours later when both girls had undergone the test, and after Climewater protested the differential treatment of the two of them versus Chastity Wilson, leading to Chastity also undergoing the line.

“Your honor, the case is as clear as it can be. I urge you to show justice to these five wretched souls.”

“Your honor,” Climewater said. “These are indeed wretched souls, but mercy is godly and to forgive divine. I urge you to consider that when you render your decision.”

Sarah stood, bound again, fuming at him. At least Goodeman had given her an impassioned defense. Climewater had said and done little. Now she was doomed to listen as their sentences were read out. How much of her life was truly over would now be revealed.

“Samuel Wilson, you are guilty on all counts except that you masterminded the fraud. Your possessions are forfeit. Your citizenship is forfeit. You shall receive one hundred lashes and then be banished forever from Piedmoore Point. Take him away.”

Sinclair waited until he was gone before continuing. The assembled audience hardly cared. They focused their attention on the women.

“Anna Wilson, you are also guilty on all counts. Your punishment is to be whipped with one thousand lashes, delivered once a year for the next ten years. During those ten years, you will be rented out to the highest bidding town in Massachusetts for menial, hard labor, performed in the nude. For your own safety, said towns each year must be located at least fifty miles from Piedmoore Point, so you will not be killed by those you defrauded.”

The older woman burst into tears as her sentence was read aloud, and she was dragged away, cutting her tongue on the scold’s bridle as she tried to beg for mercy.

“Chastity Wilson, you are guilty on all counts, though your testimony against your mother has been noted in identifying her as the true mastermind of fraud. You shall be sentenced to serve one year of hard labor servitude. And because you slandered the names of two investigators on this case, that year will be spent at a brothel on the Boston docks. There you will perform labor in cleaning and maintaining facilities while also servicing at least one thousand men during your sentence.”

The girl was dragged off screaming. Sarah could barely notice. They were saving her for last, but she still had to listen and watch as Prudence, utterly innocent of every single charge, received her fate.

“Prudence Fairfield, you are guilty on all counts. The court believes that you were led astray by your friend and roommate and unnatural lover Sarah Miller. Nonetheless, your behavior cannot be condoned, so you are sentenced to ten years imprisonment, nude, in the very first royal penal colony of the newly established crown colony in Australia, followed by banishment from North America.”

As Prudence was dragged screaming from the court, Sarah was all that remained. She felt the eyes of a thousand angry people boring into her. She stood, still naked, still handcuffed, and totally alone. She was weeping openly before Sinclair even began.

“Sarah Miller, you are guilty on every count, and probably more. Despite the fact that your activities led to the uncovering of fraud, you had no idea this would be an outcome, and it does not alleviate your guilt. You are sentenced to spend the rest of your life in a term of penal servitude including hard labor and public penance. You will conduct your sentence right here in Piedmoore Point so that everyone you see will be the face of someone you once knew before your fall. You will conduct hard labor in the farm fields, in the public latrines, on the docks, and wherever leaders of commerce and industry bid for your services. You will spend every night in a pillory constructed to allow you to lie down, and protected from the elements but fully open to the public. You will conduct this sentence naked, regardless of inclement weather. As you are a confirmed fornicator, you have presumed to have already given permission for men to engage in carnal relations with you without themselves running afoul of either law or church. I assume there is no ecclesiastical objection?”

“No, your honor. The church can accept this reasoning.”

“This may well be the first such sentence ever carried out in the colonies or in His majesty’s realms at any point in history,” Sinclair said, leaning forward to angrily lecture her. “But the court considers it worth it on account of the trouble you have caused and the reputations you attempted to besmirch. If I am wrong, and my superiors see fit to free you after your case has wound through the courts and parliamentary debate in probably twenty or thirty years, so be it. But here and now, and for your immediate future, Sarah Miller, that is your sentence and that is your final fate. So says this court!”

He banged his gavel in time for Sarah to realize what she’d just heard. It was worse than she ever feared. It was unimaginable, inhumane, and utterly unbearable. But as they pulled her away and a thousand leering sets of eyes glared at her body, she knew she had no possibility of escape whatsoever. Her entire life was doomed to pain, shame, and ruination. The tears she burst loudly into were but the first of many thousands to come.

Fin
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

Offline vile8r

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Re: A Colonial Trial
« Reply #24 on: August 25, 2017, 07:04:40 PM »
Wow! You turned this story into quite the epic!
I could rape your pussy, but I'd be in and out in a few minutes. So I choose to rape your mind, and I'll be inside you forever!

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: A Colonial Trial
« Reply #25 on: August 25, 2017, 08:14:32 PM »
I literally only planned this to be a single post story. But when you've got something that works, run with it (especially when everyone tells you to).
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

Offline JDWOLF
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Re: A Colonial Trial
« Reply #26 on: August 25, 2017, 10:28:55 PM »
I hate to nitpick a good story but "You will conduct this sentence naked, regardless of inclement weather." is a sentence to a quick death given the New England winter.

Offline andypandy

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Re: A Colonial Trial
« Reply #27 on: August 26, 2017, 10:23:21 AM »
A few other things to nitpick, if it's realism we seek. Luckily it's not. These girls are strong!  ;D
I hate to nitpick a good story but "You will conduct this sentence naked, regardless of inclement weather." is a sentence to a quick death given the New England winter.

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: A Colonial Trial
« Reply #28 on: August 26, 2017, 10:57:39 AM »
She'll have indoor duties during the ten months of winter.  ;D

No, I know you're correct. I grew up in Vermont. Just assume that some of the conditions will be modified later, like indoor duties, frequent trips inside, temperature limits, etc. It was the impact of having her sentence read out in its full cruelty and brutality that I was going for.
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

Offline andypandy

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Re: A Colonial Trial
« Reply #29 on: August 27, 2017, 04:00:19 PM »
Once again – a masterful tale with a lesson to all and sundry!
Thank you SoftGameHunter! I hope you realise just how good this turned out!
If you ever feel like revisiting Sarah and friends for a sequel, please don't hesitate to do so!