Bertram the Breaker

Christine did not- could not- know the man who came down the steps, dressed in a blacksmith's apron and trousers, nor the two younger men who followed him. He was called Bertram, or down here, Bertram the Breaker, and he was specially employed by those who wanted young women to be broken by sexual pain. He had a clean-shaven dome and a full black beard, flecked with specks of silver that suggested his advancing towards middle age, but he had the hard, muscular frame of a blacksmith, and all the tenderness of a man who hammered the iron day in and day out.

This second profession was not such a regular commission that he could live upon it alone. But there were murmurs within the merchant's guild that there was an increasing number of jobs calling for such men. Jilted lovers and husbands who wanted to punish their betrayers. Fathers who wanted to turn their daughters from their wantonness. Lords who wanted high-born women captured in battle to be returned to their families in tears and disgrace. Not to mention mistress Scarlet, of a certain high-end brothel.

Certainly, there was no lack of men who might wish to be part of such a trade, as was the case with the two apprentices who accompanied Bertram.

"All right, gentlemen," Bertram addressed the guards. "I don't think she's going to require your supervision for a while, and it's getting a mite crowded in 'ere. Why don't you leave us alone for an hour or two..."

The guards laughed coarsely as they began to ascend the staircase, closing the heavy door behind them.

"Please, sirs," Christine began to plead, disgusted with the shakiness of her own voice. "I am a high-born woman... I should not be treated to such indignities! I am certain that if you free me, I can arrange for you to be rewarded in a day to come..."

"Now, lads," Bertram addressed his apprentices, "Our employer is still not certain that she might not be able to fetch a decent price for this lass' maidenhead. She has left us free rein upon her mouth and backside, however... And that's more than enough slack to make a maiden scream, yes?"

That the brute refused to even dignify her plea with a response was both demeaning and terrifying to young Christine. She heard a creaking sound as the man doffed the heavy leather apron.

"It is unwise to assume that a woman needing breaking won't snap her teeth upon your manhood, if you're foolish enough to put it near her mouth. And it's good for a bitch to be able to scream while she's taking it... It helps to get across that no matter what kinds of sounds she's making, she isn't done until the man up in 'er has finished his business. So we'll definitely start upon her ass. Will, the lard?"

Christine cringed as Bertram smeared his fingers with pig-grease, moving his hand down to her buttocks as she desperately tried to clench the muscles and prevent further intrusions.

"With many a slut you're called to service, you'll want to forego the fat for the extra pain you can inflict upon the little whore's back door. In this instance, the employer wants to be sure that the ring remains relatively un-torn, so that she'll still get nice'n tight for her gentleman callers who want to visit her from the back. That's not a problem, though... There's plenty of an inexperienced woman's gut past the entrance to lay into, past the asshole, and the deep hurt is good for putting her in her place."

Christine gasped as the monster all too easily **** two slimy digits into her clenching ring, twisting them in the tender passage as she began to howl.

"That in mind, though, it's good to get some extra tension in the guts to give a man an easier time in pushing her past her endurance. The belt, Tom."

It was a relief when Bertram withdrew his fingers from her abused anus. The relief was short-lived, however, as he grabbed her hip, lifting her so that he could slither a thick, heavy leather belt around her belly, just above her pelvis. She let out a low moan as she heard the buckle clink as he looped the strap through behind her back.

With no other course available to her, Christine resumed her entreaties, her wrists twisting uselessly in the stocks until her skin began to rub raw.

"Sir... Sir... This is no way to treat a maiden! God must look with fury on those who would mistreat the innocent...!"

"When the asshole is properly greased, there's no need to pound it until it gives. Just exert a steady, firm pressure until it turns inward."

Her cries redoubled as she felt the thick head of Bertram's cock begin to push between her buttocks.

"No...! No, you must not...! Stop this! Stop it!"

If she could witness the size of the thing Bertram the Breaker intended to plow into her nether sheath, Christine's cries might have been all the louder. Indeed, she probably would have imagined it physically impossible that such a breach could occur.

But occur it did. And though his commitment to his craft caused Bertram to insert only the head into her bowels with that first penetration of Christine's virgin ass, it felt to the suffering girl as though she had been spit by a pike.

"Aahhhh! Please! Please, it burns! It burns...!"

The sometime smith groaned with satisfaction.

"The trick to breaking a woman through her ass," He continued, sliding his hands up to grip Christine by the hips, "Is to find the place where her bowels resist."

He slowly leaned into the girl, forcing his over-sized cudgel into her straining body. Christine whimpered as his manhood overwhelmed the spasming muscles of her rear-tunnel, pushing through her defenses, overwhelming her with sensations of humiliation, nausea, and pain.

It seemed an age before his member reached a curve in her bowels, and she mewled as the new tension within her seemed to finally bring the endless agonizing stretching to a halt. Bertram breathed heavily, crouched over the woman pinned against the bench, the shadow of his muscular bulk seeming to swallow her diminutive figure. His hips flexed as he pulled backwards.

"...Then, when you find that place? Hit it hard."

His body slammed forward into hers, and Christine began to scream in earnest.

"That place," Bertram grunted, "Will shift as you fuck her... As her guts shift... Stretch... Tear... As it tries to accommodate you, as she tries to bear down, to relax, to endure... You will need to shift your posture... Your angle of attack... Your depth. Do not allow her to adjust to being ass-fucked. Keep her resisting."

Now he began to fuck Christine with a marching speed, the lunges deep, piercing, and cruel.

"You're killing me...!" Wailed the noblewoman. "You're going to rip me apart...!"

Bertram was seen to smile, knowing the young woman's torment was only beginning.

"Without proper equipment available, one can, of course, thrash the woman's buttocks while one presses her ass."

He demonstrated this by cracking his open hand down on one of the girl's shapely buttocks, which jiggled out of time with the reaming and began to immediately fill with a flushing rose where the calloused hand had struck.

"A woman's ass is well-supported by her child-bearing hips, and an excellent candidate for rigorous punishment."

He brought his hand down half a dozen times on Christine's jerking posterior as he continued to sodomize her, with evident enjoyment of the barking cries each blow drew from the wailing, weeping girl.

"But in this case, we have the belt, which allows for a more direct **** on the squirming creature's guts..."

Clenching both hands on the belt, he jerked up on it, crushing Christine's midriff within the leather, bowing her back upward between the restraining stocks at her head and her impaled ass at the rear.

Christine made a hideous **** noise. Her stomach- seemingly her entire torso- was afflicted with a hideous cramp, her guts in a twisting vice. When Bertram again plunged his cock into her, it felt like a knife had been plunged into the flesh within that vice. No, a sword- a spear- surely, her entrails had to depart her body with such a terrible penetration-

The tension of the belt eased back a motion, and Christine coughed pitifully, air seeming to forsake her lungs. Oh God, what had the monster done to-

The thought was shattered as he drew back, planted his hand between her shoulder blades, and hauled upward on the belt again before plowing mercilessly into her backside.

"Kuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh... Gkkk!... Gkk!..."

"Seek, through sodomy, to break the woman's belly. She is a soft, weak, pathetic and despicable creature, and your task is to harrow her guts and make her bleed."

She would burst. Oh, God, she would burst. Her eyes bulged with every yank of the belt, the lancing pain ripping through her bowels and out the top of her skull. Her face was fever hot, her belly hot and then cold, and never more than a moment away from another horrific wrongness from Bertram's penetrations, conquering her body, rending her bowels, crushing her soul.

"Now reach beneath her and pull her lush breasts out from beneath her as best you can."

She was barely aware of the apprentices' clumsy motions, seeking to unconfine her womanly swells from the press between her ribs and the bench, with only partial success.

"Further pain serves to make her involuntarily clench upon her invader and distract from any efforts to bear down and loosen her back way before the ****. The coshes will bruise her tender breasts without risking rending the skin and decreasing her value."

The leather pouches, sewn with packets of lead shot, fell upon the exposed portions of Christine's breasts with unbearable ****. With no further breath to express the agony she was enduring, she gratefully elected to pass out.

It was not a long reprieve.

She gagged, cutting into a screaming, hoarse burbling as her head was pushed into a bucket of cold, foul water- at least, she hoped it was water. Her view cleared as one of the apprentices (was it Tom? Or Will?) lowered the bucket. She howled, rocking back and forth in the stocks, her body screaming in chorus as it lit up with urgent announcements of the **** it had already endured.

"Back to it, lads. No rest for the wicked."

The second invasion of Bertram's cock into her burning ass was worse than the first; when the apprentices again began to slam the leather coshes into her sore, swelling breasts, she could only weep.

After a century, the elephant's tusk within her bowels began to jerk, slowing its sawing, spewing molten lead within her torn belly, her whole body was wracked with sobbing. For the pain, for the degradation, but worst of all, despite that, for the relief... For the faith that, whatever inhuman misery had been inflicted upon her, at least it was over.

Having filled her with its venom, the all-consuming python conceded to slowly slither out from where it had buried its fangs in her guts, retracting from between her buttocks, leaving a horrible, burning void in its wake.

"And that's the fundamentals of it, lads. Now that she's good and open, who wants to show me what they've learned?"

"No..." Christine moaned. "By all the angels, no... I shall die, I shall die..."

This protestation, like the others before it, went unheeded.