Prepare to be probed.

“Perverted bastards!” You stammer out loud, knowing that the judge’s appearance of leniency is nothing but a sham, let alone the redhead witch behind it. He has rigged the game by making you drink the philterotos potion, virtually guaranteeing you will fail this test and thus justifying any perversion he can dream up, all in the name of “justice.”

You spin your head about anxiously looking for the “maiden’s head.” Seeing no one approach you wonder what trick is going on, then you gaze down and see a small trap door open between your legs. With an audible gasp you watch as a wooden pole arises straight for your vagina. Mercifully, it stops a few inches above your kneecaps.

Hearing the sound of footsteps come up the stairs of the punishment platform you look over your shoulder and see the royal apothecary. “Asshole.” You hiss as he passes by you and bows to the judge.

From his robes he produces a small white cylinder like object with a rounded tip. “Your honor, this is ‘the maiden’s head,’ it is used to determine the chastity or wontedness of a woman. In its original state it is but three inches long and three inches thick. When stimulated by motion, moisture or pressure it will grow. If the stimulation consistently increases it can grow to its full size over twelve inches long and six inches thick.”

“The tip of the maiden’s head is place just barely touching the inner parts of a woman. If she is chaste, it will not grow. The more she desires it in her; however, her gyrations will cause it to grow proving her lack of decency. A woman of questionable morals will have it grow a few inches. Anything over three inches of additional growth means the woman is nothing but a whore, and not fit for civilized society.”

“Very good.” The judge responds. “Whipmaster prepare the prisoner for the test.”

Straining to look behind you, the whipmaster takes the maiden’s probe and secures it on the wood pole between your legs. He then ties a towel around your waist so that it covers down to the top of your upper thighs so that your privates will remained covered.

“Fuck!” You swear and jump as you feel his fingers reach under the towel and in between your legs. His fingernails rake across your already swollen clitoris as he pushes your thong to one side to expose your pussy.

“Not going to last long like that cunt.” He whispers to you, taunting your already aroused state.

Before you can respond the apothecary speaks. “Raise the maiden’s head. You have five minutes to prove your womanhood brigand.” The whipmaster grabs your hips and steadies them so that they can be aligned with the probe. You feel the tip of the probe barely touch your cunt when he lets go of your hips. The apothecary from his robe produces a small hourglass and places it upside down on the table.

The maiden’s head is pleasantly warm to the touch, which is a problem. Your protest of, “your cheating,” is drowned out as the crowd starts to cheer for you to fail the test.