You don't escape the angry mob

From Create Your Own Story

Status: Naked, in the past, and on the run

You try and run, but bare feet on rough roads don't make for the easiest running, and there are simply too many people around. You're grabbed after a brief chase, numerous hands taking the opportunity to cup your breasts or pubic mound. Your arms are pulled behind your back and tied tightly with rope.

"Let me go! Please!" you beg as you try and break free. "I'm not a witch! I swear!"

"Liar!" an ugly, hatched-faced woman shrieks. "You were sent by the Devil to tempt our men! You will burn for your sins!"

Burn? They can't mean it, can they? You struggle desperately, but it's no use. Then someone removes your recall bracelet! "This is the Devil's work!" a monk cries as he holds it in his hands, then throws it to the ground and stomps on it. "Such a device could only be the work of the Evil One! Build a stake and let's be rid of this harlot of Satan!"

Panic and despair take over. You're trapped in the past for the rest of your life...which is looking pretty short right now! You beg and plead for mercy, but the crowd ignores you. You're left in the care of half a dozen villagers while the stake is being built, each of whom takes the time to rape and sodomize you. They're not gentle about it either, ignoring your cries of pain and pleas for mercy.

At last, the mob comes to get you, their work complete. They shove you roughly against the stake, untying your wrists only so they can retie them around it. More ropes are tied around your ankles, thighs, waist, pelvis, and torso above and below your breasts. You continue to struggle, but all you can move is your head.

"Please!" you beg. "Please, please don't kill me! Please, someone, help me!"

Your tear-ridden begging is ignored as they start piling wood and straw at your feet. As someone brings a torch, your eyes widen in horror, as you silently pray this is all a bad dream, or that someone will come to rescue you.

You gasp as the torch is thrown onto the kindling at your feet, and all you can do is stare silently as the flame slowly builds, tears running down your cheeks. The occasional spark lands on your thigh or belly, causing you to gasp and writhe in your bonds. Then the fire reaches your feet, and you begin screaming. The pain is worse than anything you could possibly imagine, and it gets worse as the flames rise up your body. Your screams escalate as the fire reaches your crotch, ravaging your pussy and ass. Your body stays alight like a candle, thanks to its fats and limpids, and these villagers know how to keep you conscious and in pain. It's not until the fire consumes your breasts that everything goes dark. You've been burned at the stake hundreds of years before you were ever born.

THE END

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