Witch's punishment: a Star Trek fanfiction: chapter one
Takes place in Next Generation timeline, Deanna Troi is left behind due to a transporter malfunction and is subject to the mercies of a primitive culture. Includes torture and sexual humiliation and kind of a version of the "walk of shame" scene from Game of Thrones, but with Deanna playing Cersei. That scene kind of turns me on. Adults only.
"Captain! We've got to leave, now!" Riker said, leading Deanna Troi through a corridor as angry voices were heard from behind them. "Have O'Reilly get a transporter lock on our position!"
It had all started out pretty regular, a routine investigation of a primitive planet with a technology level barely above medieval level and a culture similar to Earth's Europe during the Dark Ages, but something went terribly wrong. Deanna Troi had been overheard whispering to him about 'feeling' the thoughts of the others, but they hadn't had as much privacy from the populace as they had thought. Thirty minutes, three accusations, and an angry mob later, and they were running through the streets trying to escape a mob that thought she was a witch.
"Deanna, down here!" Riker whisper-shouted as he turned into a large building, obviously some kind of warehouse. "We can hide in there for now!"
He pulled Deanna behind him into the building and slammed the door shut, hearing the angry crowd of torch-bearing people from outside. He shut the door and barricaded it with wooden beams. The building was filled with all kinds of boxes holding various items for sale in the market. The two lovers pulled off their robes used to disguise themselves and heaved a sigh. They had worn medieval-style clothing, Deanna in a corset and ruffled dress, and Riker in a bleached tunic and drawstring pants with a Robin Hood-style hat.
"That door won't hold them for long." Deanna said as she pressed a hand to her temple. "I can feel their rage, their fear…they're coming."
Riker grabbed a hammer and nails and nailed a large beam to the wall, making the door a little more secure as the crowd of people slammed against it.
"All right, that should do. Let's get out of here." He said, pressing the comlink on his communicator badge. "Riker to Enterprise, two to beam up."
"All right, but my power's low. I'll have to bring you in one at a time." O'Brien's voice said over the comlink, sounding a little crackly.
"You go first." Deanna said as she squeezed Riker's hand. "I'll be right behind you."
"Well, if you insist." Riker said as he stood still, looking at Deanna with concern.
She felt his worry and tried to beam as much reassurance as she could to her lover, her large eyes conveying compassion. The beam sparkled and shimmered as Riker started to vanish from sight.
"Witch!"
The shouts came louder as the wooden door was splintered to bits, falling off of its hinges. Deanna turned in shock as a group of raggedy peasants and knights clad in metal armor approached her, wielding broadswords.
"Deanna!" Riker yelled, instants before he vanished completely, the people gasping in terror.
"You see?" one of the men yelled as he pointed to Deanna Troi. "She's a witch! She made him disappear into thin air!"
"You're under arrest, mi' lady." Said one of the knights, his voice muffled through his helmet. "For witchcraft and evading enforcers of the law!"
"No! You don't understand!" Deanna yelled as the knights approached her, one of them holding a wooden club.
She looked up, praying the teleport would come soon. But instead of a shimmering beam of light, all that came down on her head was the wooden club of one of the knights. Deanna's mind reeled as she fell to the ground, her vision blurring as she felt herself being pulled upwards and dragged into a big cage…and then everything went black.
Hours later…
A splash of cold water awakened Deanna Troi as she sat upright, her dress filthy from the dirt on the ground. She looked around herself, realizing she was sitting in a little prison cell with only one barred window. The water had come from a bucket held by a man in a brown tunic, obviously the prison guard.
"Up you go, witch." He said, motioning to Deanna as she stood up, her feet shaking. "It's time."
Deanna could sense the man's hatred, but also a sense of lust for her, making her feel nervous. She stood and walked over to a plate he had left for her, containing a chunk of bread, some dusty water, some grapes and some cheese.
"You go in for your punishment in a few minutes, so best eat quickly." The guard said, exiting the cell and locking the door behind her. "The king's torturer likes 'em with a lot of fight left in 'em."
Deanna shuddered, sensing his arousal and realizing he had been watching her while she slept. She hated the grimy feeling of his thoughts on her body, and wondered why the others hadn't found her yet. Hopefully, they would soon, because she didn't like the look of her current situation. Humans in the middle ages did horrible things to women they considered witches, and if this planet was of any indication…Deanna ate quickly, standing up when a shirtless masked man entered the cell door.
"All right wench, strip." He said, leering at Deanna and stretching out a long whip.
"What?" Deanna gasped, feeling the man's cruel lust and sadism.
"You heard me, you harlot." He said, holding the whip threateningly. "Take off your clothes now."
Deanna hesitated, but the man only cracked the whip close to her face, making her jump.
"Strip!" the man said, stretching out the whip again. "Unless you'd like me to do it for you?"
Deanna slowly stood straight and stepped out of her shoes. She then reached behind her back, unbuttoning her blouse and dress and pulling the whole thing over her head. Finally, she unfastened her corset and stepped out of her pantaloons, standing in only her bra and panties.
"All the way, you harlot witch!" the man growled. "You could be hiding a witch's wand somewhere."
Deanna removed her undergarments, standing naked before the man. He clamped a pair of manacles over her wrists and a collar around her neck, tugging the chain and leading her forwards.
"Right this way, witch girl." He hissed as he pulled Deanna forwards, the counselor stumbling slightly. "Time to go."
Deanna Troi followed, the collar and chain around her neck forcing her to follow the man forwards through the dungeon. They passed by other prisoners, some of whom jeered at her and groped her through the cell doors.
"Where are we going?" she asked, hiding her body from the men in the cells.
There was no answer. Deanna's childhood had taught her not to be ashamed of her nudity. In fact, on Betazed, it was pretty commonplace, with many events such as weddings being performed naked. However, in this case it was a source of shame for her, a reason for vulnerability. Deanna's Starfleet training had taught her that nudity was very offensive in public, and that overwhelmed her childhood securities. She remembered a few months back when she and her mother had been abducted by the Ferengi. They had been stripped of all of their clothes by their teleporter, and left naked when they arrived. Her mother had given her a greenish blanket that was lying nearby for modesty, since she knew her daughter had been living among humans and knew that nudity was seen as offensive to many. However, in this case, she was all alone.
"When will my clothing be given back to me?" Deanna asked, stumbling as she stepped into a large room made out of brick, lit only by torches.
"Never, harlot." The man said as he tugged the leash. "They're being burned right now as we speak."
Deanna stood still, her humiliation evident as she was led into the middle of the large room. A variety of devices were surrounding her, and she didn't like the look of any of them.
"Sit down!" the torturer yelled, pointing to a steel chair with manacles attached to it and a bucket beneath the seat.
Deanna realized she had no choice and sat, the cold metal feeling uncomfortable on her naked skin. The man clamped the manacles over her wrists, ankles and waist, hooking the collar onto the backrest and locking it in place. Deanna tested the cuffs, realizing they were absolutely solid. She saw the man rifling through a variety of horrible instruments, coming out with a long rubber tube and a funnel.
"Open wide!" he growled as he approached Deanna.
The naked counselor refused, holding her mouth tightly shut. The man pinched Deanna's nose closed, making her gulp as her air was cut off. She tried hard to hold on, begging her lungs to hold out for a few moments more…but to no avail. She opened her mouth, and the instant she did so, the torturer thrust a metal clamp into her jaws, twisting a screw and forcing her mouth wide open. He then thrust a long rubber hose into her throat and into her gullet, making Deanna choke as it reached her stomach.
"Holy water, perfect for a witch!" the man said as he held up a large bottle of water with a cross on it, attaching the funnel to the tube.
Deanna gasped, choking on the tube as he held her nose and poured the water down the funnel, forcing it into her stomach. She screamed through the tube as the water filled her stomach, cutting off all air to her lungs. Her bare breasts heaved as she choked on the torrent of water, watching the bottle as it finally emptied out into her stomach. The torturer ripped the tube from her throat, making her cough and gag as she spat the remainder of the water out of her mouth and onto the man. Deanna's bowels and bladder gave out from the fear, filling the bucket with her filth as she coughed and gagged.
"SLUT!" the man screamed as he slapped Deanna's bare belly, making her retch and gag as the water distended her stomach, which grumbled in protest.
She felt the bile in her stomach building up as she doubled over as much as possible while in the chair and vomited, purging her stomach onto her lap and thighs. The man held her head up by her hair and glared at her, his ugly face in Deanna's mind as he poured water over the naked woman's head.
"Are you a witch?" he growled.
"N-No!" Deanna whimpered, her mind overwhelmed by the man's filthy thoughts.
She struggled against the iron chair as the man reached behind him and pulled up an iron helmet shaped like a woman's head, a chastity belt and a chastity brasserie, along with rounded metal manacles, built to fit over her hands. The torturer unlatched her from the chair, and pulled her chain upright, forcing her to stand straight up.
"Hold still." He growled as Deanna stood upright, coughing from her horrific treatment.
She stood still as he walked over to her, pulling her arms behind her back and clamping the balled manacles over her hands.
"W-What are you g-going to do to me?" Deanna whimpered, her mind feeling the man's lustful thoughts.
"Hang you, Palestinian-style." The man said as he clamped the chastity belt over her crotch, making her wince at the uncomfortable feeling. "But first, to make certain you do not attempt to sin further by pleasuring yourself while you are in the dungeons."
He then locked the steel bra over her chest, chafing her breasts with the cold iron cups. Another man locked the helmet over Deanna's head as he pulled a long chain with a hook attached down from the ceiling and lashed it around her balled manacles. He then walked over to a horse and attached the chain to its yoke, slapping its flank with a meaty hand.
"Yah!" he yelled, making the horse whinny and trot forwards, pulling the chain through the pulley system.
Deanna screamed into the iron helmet around her head as she was lifted into the air, her chastity bikini weighing her body down as her arms, bound behind her back, bore the full weight of her body and everything on it.
"Oh dear god in heaven, this is horrible!" she thought to herself as she swung naked from her arms, her shoulders almost wrenched from their sockets as she was slowly lifted higher and higher.
This was strappado, an ancient torture technique that would either cause horrible pain or the dislocation of the arms. Deanna felt like she would prefer death to either of them right now as she felt the sadistic thoughts of the men surrounding her. She screamed into the helmet, her own voice deafening her as it echoed through the enclosed space her head was trapped in. Deanna hung there in nothing but her wrought-iron bra and panties, her arms being slowly tugged out of their sockets.
"AAAUUGGHH!" Deanna screeched at the absolute top of her lungs as she hung there, her toes barely touching the ground.
Her voice echoed through her iron helmet, the expression of pleasure on the female mask a complete opposite to her current feelings of pain. Her arms were in absolute pain, her shoulders practically ripped out of her sockets by her own weight. A couple of pops were heard as her arms were dislocated, and she wished for death. Deanna could only hear her own voice inside the helmet, and right now, she was whimpering and gasping, begging for relief.
"Please…no more…" she begged, writhing around as her arms went numb. "….no more…"
Suddenly, she felt herself moving again as she slowly lowered onto the filthy floor, collapsing in a heap as she sobbed. Her wrists were unbound as her arms, useless to her at the moment, were left to slump by her sides. The iron bikini she wore felt like it weighed over a million pounds, her hands feeling cramped from the spherical manacles they had been forced into. She could just barely hear the men saying something, and she focused on their minds, using her empathic abilities to read their minds.
"Put her back in the dungeon for now." Said one of them.
"Let's have her atonement begin on the morrow." Said another.
Deanna passed out from the pain, her body feeling numb to the agony. She slumped over on her back as she felt herself being lifted and taken onto a wooden wheelbarrow to a dungeon cell…and then everything went black.
To be continued...