Slave to the Satanists
By Lee Ash
Illustrated By: Luis Ortiz
* * *
There was a chance in that first moment when Cara could have escaped. One of the guards
had a knife hanging from his belt. Jewels on the ornate handle glistened in
the moonlight of her bedroom. For an instant she could see herself
snatching it, holding it tight in her delicate hand, then plunging it into
his abdomen. The image was so real that, for the briefest instant, she
could even see the blood spilling over his bare stomach and feel the sticky
heat as it poured onto her hands.
Twelve hours later, still weak from the experience but now determined to escape, Cara
tested her most alluring smile for the guards when they returned. She was
still naked, and knew she had no chance to use any mystery of feminine
allure to win them over, but she was determined to make the best of what she
Then the moment had passed and the opportunity to escape had gone. The cowled guards,
acting on the instruction of their hooded leader, snatched Cara from her bed
and dragged her away from the sanctuary of her home.
Naked, save for her torn shift that was now spattered with filth, Cara was thrown to her
knees before the hooded members of the inquisition. She was a stunning
brunette and, ordinarily, confident and proud of her good looks. But, with
the majority of her clothes torn or missing, and dirt caking the rags they
had made her wear, she knew she must have looked like a pathetic and noxious
spectacle. Stifling her sobs, placing a protective hand over the swell of
her buxom breasts, she dared to raise her gaze.
An elderly inquisitor stood before her. His face was hidden in the shadows of his
hood. Even though he didn’t have the muscular physique of the guards who
had dragged her to him, Cara found herself fearing this man with a cold,
You are accused of a fearful crime." The inquisitor croaked. He held up a scrawny hand.
One gnarled finger pointed at her face. "You are accused of witchcraft.
Are you guilty or innocent?"
A shiver of terror passed through her slender body. She was appalled to notice that her
fright and the chill had turned her nipples hard. Blushing furiously when
she saw how they jutted at the front of her shift, Cara tugged the filthy
clothes more tightly against her chest and glared at the inquisitor.
“Why are you accusing me of witchcraft?”
A hand slapped across her face. The blow was so hard and unexpected she was momentarily
too shocked to feel the pain. When it did come she was treated to a burning
welt across her jaw. A red flare, the size and shape of a scrawny
handprint, scalded her cheek.
question,” the inquisitor snapped. His voice was a shrewish whine. He
raised his hand again, as though preparing to slap her for a second time.
“You are accused of witchcraft. Are you guilty or innocent?”
He moved slightly and she saw the sign of the inverted cross tattooed on his scrawny chest.
The black ink was a stark contrast to his dry, pallid flesh. Cara felt
chilled by dread as the shock of realization flooded over her. She had
heard rumors that Satanists were trying to establish their reputation in the
village but she hadn’t expected to find herself facing their wrath.
“Guilty or innocent?” he demanded.
His bony fingers turned into a claw that snatched away the filthy rag she had worn. Cara was
left naked in the arms of the guards and unable to defend herself as the
chief inquisitor stepped closer. One hand went to her breast. The
reptilian fingers were abrasive against her sensitive flesh. She could feel
the scratch of his calloused caress as it rubbed across her nipple. The
treacherous nub of her breast stiffened beneath his touch and, from the
depths of his hood, she saw the glint of his smile. It was a terrifying
sight and it made Cara find the strength to break free from the guards.
She wrenched her arms away from them and managed to stagger from the pair. There was a
fleeting instant when she thought she could escape and it crossed her mind
she should snatch the inquisitor’s blade – like his subordinates, he wore
the ornate dagger in his belt – and she was tempted by the fleeting idea of
plunging its cold steel into his stomach. But, rather than use violence,
she thought it best to run as fast as she was able.
A muscular hand grabbed her arm. Another caught her hair. Before she had
even made it as far the dungeon’s stairwell, the pair had caught her again
and locked her in an inescapable embrace. They held her more tightly this
time and she knew there was no chance to escape their hold. When they
dragged her back before the inquisitor again Cara was unnerved to see that
he was no longer smiling.
His claw-like hand reached for her breast. He squeezed her with a repellant intimacy that
made her want to scream. “If you’re not going to confess your witchcraft
voluntarily, we have ways of making you say what we want.” With his free
hand he pointed to the dungeon walls. "Look around you,” he demanded.
“Look carefully and see how we deal with insubordination."
Reluctantly, Cara did as he asked. The smoke-blackened walls of the dungeon were decorated
with the twisted bodies of former victims. The skeletal remains of a young
woman hung from manacles on one wall: the fresh corpse of another was
suspended by her side and Cara was sickened to recognize this woman. She
knew that one of the cleaning girl’s from her father’s castle had been
missing for the last two days. Now Cara understood where the poor wench had
For the first time Cara noticed the stench of burning flesh and saw the torture being
conducted by the room’s vast fire. As though she was stepping out of a
dream, she finally heard the pitiable moans and cries of her fellow
victims. Realizing the horror of her surroundings, Cara felt ill with dread
“Put her on the rack,” the inquisitor demanded. “Let’s get this one talking as quickly as
The guards were flawlessly obedient.
Cara was wrenched to a diabolical bench fitted with manacles and chains. The flat slab of the
bench was slick with blood from previous victims and she was chilled by the
greasy way her bare buttocks slipped against its surface. Her wrists and
ankles were tied in the restraints; the chains were pulled tight; and she
had never felt so completely helpless and vulnerable.
“You can avoid this unpleasantness if you want,” said the inquisitor.
Cara tried to respond but it was almost impossible to talk. Her hands and feet were being
stretched by the rack and her terror of what might yet come held her
breathless. To make the ordeal worse she realized the inquisitor had
slipped his fingers against her sex. The repulsive creature was stroking
her most intimate places and she wanted to recoil from the invasion of his
loathsome touch. One gnarly digit slipped against the delicate folds of her
labia. She could feel him testing her wetness and knew he was trying to
slide his finger into her tight confines. Panic began to swell in the back
of her throat but she forced herself not to struggle against her restraints
knowing it would do no good.
The inquisitor continued. “Confess to practicing witchcraft and give me the names of the rest of your coven.
She didn’t contemplate lowering herself to respond. Cara guessed that the cleaning
girl had been given the same option, and she could see how poorly that had
served the helpless wench. Sickened by the idea of putting anyone else in
the situation she was now currently enduring, Cara turned her face away from
He snatched hold of her hair and pulled until she was forced to face him. The rack was close
to the dungeon’s huge fireplace and she saw he had retrieved a branding iron
from the sullen orange coals. Its tip glowed a dull cherry red and she
could see wisps of smoke rising from its end.
“You’ll start talking soon,” the inquisitor told her. “Even if you’re only begging for me
She stared at him in horror.
And, when he pushed the branding iron against the swell of her breast, and she heard the
hiss of her flesh sizzling beneath the heat, Cara understood that he was
right. But, while she begged him to stop, she didn’t lower herself to
answering any of his questions. Even when an hour had passed, and by then
she was too weak to scream as fresh pain assaulted her body, Cara was still
determined not to give him the satisfaction of making her talk.
Not concealing his fury, the inquisitor demanded the guards take her away. “Put her in a
solitary cell and chain her to the walls,” he insisted. “Make sure her
wounds are treated because I want her fully able to appreciate the next bout
of punishment that I make her suffer.”
And, even though she was numb from the torture, Cara could still feel a cold chill twist her
stomach when he said those words.
“Release me,” she begged. “Release me and I’m yours.”
One of the guards laughed at her. The other shook his head.
“Either one of you can have me if you release me,” she whispered. “Either one of you can
take me and I’ll be yours forever. I’ll stay by your side, I’ll submit to
your every whim. I’ll fulfill your every sexual fantasy. I’ll be your
willing servant. I’ll surrender to any depraved demands that you make. All
that I ask is that only one of you takes me. I won’t be used by both of
you. I’ll fight you every step of the way if you make me do that.”
The guards exchanged a glance and she could see they were both tempted. Cara
maintained the most appealing smile she was able to manage.
“I might just take her up on that offer,” the first guard mused.
The second guard scoffed at him. “You might just back down and let me have her.”
“She was looking at me when she made that suggestion.”
“I don’t care who she was looking at. I outrank you!”
“Oh yeah! And do you outrank this?”
She was both sickened and excited when she saw the glint of the blade. It was exactly
what she had hoped would happen and, while the opportunity to escape raised
her spirits the prospect of causing violence made her feel ill.
The first guard lurched at his colleague. His blade was in his hand and the steel glinted
in the gloom of the dungeon. The second guard sidestepped, dragging his own
blade from his belt and using it to slice at his companion.
A spray of wet blood splashed across Cara’s bare breasts. The pair grunted
and cursed, slashing at each other and calling on the names of all the
sacred demons to assist them in their battle. Cara watched with avid
curiosity as the pair wrestled together in their life-or-death battle to
claim her as a prize.
And, when they each plunged their blades into the other, ending their fight with a savage
exchange of fatal blows, she didn’t know whether to be proud of her own
cleverness, or repulsed by the waste of human life.
The chief inquisitor appeared in the doorway and took in the scene with a deepening
frown. “You must truly be a great witch,” he mused. She couldn’t sense if
he was being sarcastic or serious. His face remained in the shadows of his
cowl and his stiff posture gave nothing away. “You’ve had two of my best
disciples kill each other,” he grunted. “That’s a truly formidable power.”
She fixed him with a beseeching expression. “The power could be yours, if you wanted.”
He raised a questioning eyebrow.
“I could reign by your side,” she explained. It was a struggle to keep her voice low and
seductive but she knew she was gambling for her survival and she made the
performance as real as she could. “I’d give you all those things you would
normally have to take by force. I could help you spread your dominion over
other hapless victims. Let me live - let me live by your side - and I could
share the gift of my witchcraft for your higher purpose.”
He licked his lips. When she saw the dark tongue slip from his mouth, Cara knew she had
caught his interest. She willed herself not to show any relief or triumph
as he released her wrists from the manacles. She even managed to fall
convincingly to the floor when her hands were free. Without letting the
chief inquisitor see what she was doing, Cara stole one of the steel blades
from the dead guards who lay at her feet.
“You’re agreeing to remain by my side for the rest of my life?” the inquisitor pressed. “And
you’re saying you’ll share your powers with me? Is that our arrangement?”
“That’s our arrangement,” Cara said. She stood up and fixed him with a look of black
fury. “But it’s not as much as you think. I’m not a witch so I don’t have
any powers that I could share with you.” As she thrust the blade deep into
his stomach, she added, “And, while I agreed to remain by your side for the
rest of your life, that’s just about over now.”
His expression was twisted with shock and disbelief.
The knife slipped so easily into his stomach Cara was momentarily unsure that she had done it
properly. As she had pictured it a thousand times before, the blade
effortlessly penetrated the taut skin of the man’s stomach. For an instant
there was a gaping hole, then a flood of hot, wet blood poured over her
He tried to reach out for her. His thin hand snatched at air before the effort
became too much. Cara turned away from him and didn’t even watch as his
lifeless body toppled to the floor. She snatched a cowl from the wall to
protect her modesty and then hobbled bravely out of the dungeon and home to
her well-earned freedom.