Read Online Vesta - Painworld by Jennifer Jane Pope - Free Book Online Page A

lower end, dangled limply in the airless afternoon. To the side a shorter post supported a cross member, from each end of which hung an open manacle of thick leather. On a bench beside this lay a selection of whips, tiny steel teeth glinting in the woven fibres of each.
    It’s not real! she screamed to herself silently. It’s just part of the script. This isn’t really happening to you - none of it is!
    Yet the splinters which dug into her bare feet seemed only too real, as the two assistants grasped her and hauled her across to the whipping frame. A small box had been positioned before it and very quickly Lianne was lifted onto this, her fetters unlocked and her arms stretched high and wide for her wrists to be re-secured in the waiting straps. Another strap was buckled about her ankles, pressing her legs close together, and then the box was unceremoniously dragged from beneath her, leaving her dangling helplessly, toes agonising inches from the decking.
    She groaned as her weight fell upon her protesting shoulders and only the greatest effort of willpower managed to prevent her from screaming into the gag. Her eyes rolled wildly and her breath hissed through her nostrils. Her common sense kept telling her that none of this was really happening to her, yet every nerve ending, every brain cell, screamed out that it was real enough.
    â€˜Strip her, executioner!’ This was from one of the priests. The hooded giant nodded to his two assistants, who stepped forward once again and ripped the crude shift from Lianne, tossing the ragged cloth into the crowd and bringing forth a bay of anticipation. Her face pressed against the upright, Lianne hung and waited. She did not have to wait for long.
    Into her vision swum the haunting features of the first priest, his lips bared to reveal rotted teeth and a deep crimson tongue. Curiously, despite the pain that was threatening to overwhelm her, Lianne realised the man ought to have terribly fetid breath, and yet she could smell nothing.
    The corners of his mouth twitched cruelly, as he took from within his robes a roll of parchment of some kind, unrolling it with slow deliberation and holding it at arms length.
    â€˜The witch Griselda has been tried by the rightful church and found guilty as charged,’ he intoned. ‘She is guilty of heresy, blasphemy, consulting with the dark forces and of murder, upon which all charges she has been sentenced to death. She has further been sentenced, upon the charges of witchcraft and heresy, to be scourged, that she may be received into the next world with her soul cleansed of her mortal sins.’ He allowed the parchment to roll itself up again and stepped back.
    â€˜Executioner, do your duty!’ he cried. ‘And may the gods have mercy on her soul.’
    The whip landed across Lianne’s unprotected back with a sound like a pistol shot, and a spear of red-hot pain shot through her. She bucked and writhed, high-pitched mewling sounds forcing their way past the leather gag, and kicked her bound legs helplessly.
    The second lash cut across the tops of her thighs, red, purple and green lights exploding in front of her eyes. Dimly, she was aware of a huge cheer behind her; the crowd, however nebulous they had appeared to her earlier, was clearly programmed to enjoy such sport. By the time the sixth lash scored a vivid line across the tops of Lianne’s shoulders, the noise had risen to a cacophonous crescendo, but she could scarcely hear it through the haze of pain that now engulfed her.
    â€˜Enough!’ The priest stepped forward once again and held up a hand, the executioner staying his wrist just as he was about to snap out the snakelike coils for the seventh time. ‘Let her hang there for a short while,’ the cleric instructed. ‘She must not lose consciousness, for her evil master lays wait to claim her in the dreamworld beyond.’
    Can I actually pass out here? Lianne had no idea, other than