Molten wax.

"The Hyrkanian needs to be purified." The Stygian sorcerer declares Sonja's ****. "Burn the filth from her; Use the wax."

"Yes, my Lord Amon." The crone bows and nods to the guards who flip the redhead onto her stomach and reapply the restraints. The witch then places a bowl of water on the bondage table followed by a strange rune covered ceramic pot with a wooden handle. Wisps of steam, and the sounds of a simmering boil, ominously come from the vessel.

Taking a linen cloth from the bowl the old woman wrings it out, slaps it against the she-bandit's ass and begins to scrub. Nervously, Sonja watches the crone then carefully pick up the ceramic pot by its wooden handle. Moving it above brigand the hag pours some of the steaming, perfumed, yellow wax, down on the bound bandit's rear.

"Hmmmpt!" Sonja's hips thrust down against the wood while she bits hard on the gag and swallows a scream as the wax sears her defenseless flesh with a hideous sizzling sound. The demonic liquid, though it leaves no mark, burns more like fire than mere candle wax. Once hardened the crone rips the old wax off and then begins the process on a new piece of skin.

Over the next few hour Sonja struggles against her restraints and groans with distress with each application of the insidious liquid. Every inch of her is painfully cleansed, starting with her back, arms and legs.

Though enjoying the bandit's suffering, the wizard is displeased that the stubborn Hyrkanian's eyes are still filled with defiance and that she hasn't shed a tear or begged for mercy, that is until Sonja is flipped back over and the crone moves the pot above the brigand's bare breasts.

The she-bandit's eyes go wide and Sonja begs "No, not there!" Hopelessly the redhead pulls at her bonds in a vain attempt to stop the liquid pouring down and her left nipple and then making a trail to the right. Even with the gag, Sonja's scream is heard by the guards marching outside the wagon.

"More wax." Is the wizard's excited reply to the redhead's suffering and her muffled pleas for mercy. "Move down her body." He commands.

Every muscle tenses as Sonja's back and ass arch off the table in crippling pain as the crone splatters the burning liquid down her abdomen and onto her most sensitive feminine region. Her soul rending screams go silent as the pain finally becomes too much even for her will and the merciful darkness of unconsciousness overcomes the she-bandit.