Kriss' eyes could not help but stare at the glowing brand which the executioner was brandishing in front of her. She could already feel its heat. A bead of sweat dribbled down her temple. Her heart was pounding fast. Her mind was screaming<em>noooooo</em>but no sound crossed past her lips. The white-orange glow was shifting across the letters, hypnotising her, blinding her.<br/><br/>She felt her yoke being gripped more tightly. Her knees were pulled apart and two men sat on her calves, one on each leg, pinning them into the stone floor. An arm brushed across her face, seized the lower hem of her top and pulled it up over her breasts, displaying her black sport bra. Her proud boobs were firmly standing up, like shells pointed at the crowd, their nipples hard and erect against the black fabric. The warrioress contracted all her muscles. Those in her arms bulged like sinewy ropes as she tried one again to pull her hands out of their holes. Her hard abs were forming like a pillar of steel under ribs. She was sweating profusely now, perspiration forming rivulets down her torso. Her mind was panicking as the glowing brand remained poised in front of her. Was it going to burn her breasts? Or a belly? Kriss' whole mind was centered on that question, unable to think to anything else.<br/><br/>The punching of the brand into her stomach took her by surprise. Her abs tried to resist, to block the powerful blow, but the intense heat seared through them and the pain forced them to relax. The glowing metal sank deeper into her skin and her belly hollowed under the impact. Winded, she felt a stream of bile shoot up her oesophagus and its bitterness filled her mouth. She wanted to double over but the men holding the yoke did not allowed it. Her face changed to a mask of horrified agony, her mouth gaping wide as she tried to breathe in some air. The brand was kept against her belly, her flesh sizzling, the sound of it filling her ears. Lines of black smoke were snaking up her sweaty torso, coming from the charred flesh. As the pain from the punch receded, that caused by the actual burning of her body grew comparatively stronger.<br/><br/>At last, the brand was ripped  from her belly. At last, Kriss succeeded in filling her aching lungs with air, mixed with the emanations from her own burned flesh. At last she was allowed to express the inhuman agony she was feeling. Her scream echoed through the cathedral.<br/><br/>It took her some time to recover. It felt as if the brand was still burning her belly even though it had left it. The wound was still burning, sending throbs of agony to her blank mind. After her long, ear-piercing screaming, she had remained silent, her breath hissing through her clenched teeth, her wide-open eyes looking at nothing in particular. She was panting heavily. After some time, she gathered the courage to look down at her marred belly, to see what had been done to her, to look at the swollen, charred, blistered letters impressed into her formerly spotless skin. But her courage was frustrated. The yoke was too wide. It prevented her chin to dip down, it was preventing to look at her belly. She was left with her imagination.<br/><br/>The yanking and tearing of the back of her tank top brought her back to the instant. She could feel the fresh air against her perspiring upper back. And she knew the torture was going to start again. Now she was standing up, her legs kept wide apart by strong hands. Someone stepped forward, collected her curly red mane and pulled it - not too gently - forward, so as to clear access to her back. The fierce pounding of her heart started again.<em>Not again!</em>She thought. For a moment she felt the abject urge to beg the executioner to stop. She had to fight her willingness to accept anything in exchange for being left alone. She was on the verge of crying when the hissing sound of red-hot iron sizzling into flesh reached her ears, at the same time was blank pain exploded in her back.<br/><br/>Her spine arched backwards, a long, high-pitched howl reverberated between the tall stone pillars, her vision darkened. As she fought against unconsciousness, the back of her mind registered the snapping of her right bra strap. Its front part got loose and the upper side of her bra cup drooped, revealing more of her boob.<br/><br/>Suddenly, all the hands that had been gripping her flesh let go off. She staggered, the weight of her yoke pulling her down. Just as she was about to recover her balance, someone kicked the back of her knees and she collapsed backward. She yanked forcefully on her arms to stop her fall but only succeeded in twisting the yoke to her right and putting more strain on her shoulders. Her butty crashed on the stone floor, immediately followed by the right end of the yoke. There was a powerful jolt against her neck and then the yoke landed hard. Kriss had been bracing herself for the shock but could not help her skull from banging against the ground, making her feel as if her skull were ringing like a bell. Or maybe those were the bells fixed to the yoke... She was not sure.<br/><br/>She was lying on her back, panting heavily, feeling the cool stone somehow soothing the burning pain on her right shoulder blade where the brand had just been applied. As her vision cleared, she tried to straighten herself only to find that the yoke was too heavy to allow her to sit up directly. She curled her legs up, panting heavily.<br/><br/>Men surrounded her again and flipped her effortlessly on her belly. Her firm breasts were pressed into the floor by the weight of the yoke and she gritted her teeth. More weight was added as someone sat on her back, pinning her down, almost preventing her from breathing. She hollowed her belly in a desperate attempt to prevent her branded wound from grinding against the dusty floor.<br/><br/>Her left leg was yanked widely aside and two men sat on it, ensuring it would not budge, however strong she might try to kick. Her right leg too was gripped and pinned down, although with less savagery. The crotch of her baggy pants were now fully exposed and everybody could testify that there was indeed a darker, wet spot all over the area. Most thought she had been peeing herself, though.<br/><br/>Kriss tried to look behind her but with two men sitting on the yoke her horizon did not go beyond the stone slabs she was crushed against and the shoes of those crowding around to see her debasement. When she felt her shoe removed, she knew which would be the next target of the executioner. The man threw her leather boot away and then pealed her sweat-gorged black sock of her foot. Bathing was a luxury that could rarely be indulged with in those days. Moreover, shoes being a very sought-after commodity, it was always safer to sleep with one's shoes on, lest someone would steal them during your sleep. Accordingly, it had been days, or maybe weeks since the last time Kriss had removed hers as the state of her sock vibrantly testified.<br/><br/>Her legs was pressed harder against the stone, nearly preventing her foot from moving. She was curling and uncurling her toes in a vain attempt to escape what was about to happen. A heavy boot crushed them against the floor, completing the immobilisation of her foot. Again, she wanted to beg for pity but she had no more air in her lungs. The searing pain shot through her exposed heel and down to the middle of her sole. Her toes barely twitched. White throbs of pain coursed up her nerves as the flesh burned and charred, leaving ugly, black blisters and deeply embedded marks.<br/><br/>At last, on a Keeper's order, everybody stood off the condemned body. Gasping and panting, Kriss curled her legs up on her left side, twisting her torso as she could not lift the yoke. Her branded, bare foot was resting on her right boot, twitching and smoking. The Batterist scout was sobbing, her sweaty face resting in a pool of saliva - her own and that collected in her previous humiliation - and bile. The black scarf that had been holding her fiery mane at bay had slipped, allowing several matted red curls to stick against her face.<br/><br/>Slowly, she curled her legs higher against her chest and dragged the yoke backwards, until she was able to kneel and, from there, to stand up. She was resting on her right booted foot, keeping her left leg half folded and touching the floor only with the ball of her foot. She was panting heavily, her face was half hidden behind straying hair curls. The word "MERDRER" was imprinted in black with red outline across her belly, around her navel. She looked defeated but something sparkle in the back of her eyes was belying it.