Not wanting to dignify this sham of a court you remain silent. After a few seconds the judge speaks. “Very well, whipmaster strip the prisoner down to her undergarments and secure her on the posts.”
The hooded ogre of a man approaches you from behind and removes your chains. You rub your wrists enjoying a brief moment of freedom as the torturer commands. “You heard his honor, strip, or I will do it for you cunt.”
The crowd again demand your clothing by chanting, “Strip! Strip! Strip!” When you bend over and start to untie your boots it bursts into cheers.
When your boots are off, you strip off your vest and throw it to the side. With a sigh you begin to unbutton your shirt exposing more and more of your cleavage. When you open the shirt wide revealing the skimpy bra underneath many in the crowd gasp at the size of your tits. Placing your shirt on top of your boots you untie the front of your paints, painfully aware of much your breasts sway back and forth. Pealing the paints off you show the crowd your thong like loin cloth underneath.
Once stripped down to your undergarments the whipmaster leads you between the iron poles in the middle of the platform. You see parallel holes running down both sides of the poles. Taking your wrists and then your ankles the torturer puts leather straps on them and pulls them tight so that you are secured and spread eagle between the iron rods.
The whipmaster moves back as the judge has an announcement to make.
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