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9 - Trial by mob
🕑 Added 2025-06-02 08:48:18 +0000 UTCRennia was strung up in full view of the village square in Kibblestadt. A horrendously thick rope held her up. Her hands were tied together with a shorter string, her feet bound. Even her toes were tied together. Her mouth was gagged. What wasn’t touched, however, was her cock, which hung in its shortened form, twitching slightly in the cold.
The air was sharp. The full moon had come to watch her trial by mob justice unfold. Two very different crowds were forming—civilians and wandering travelers on one side, guards and adventurers on the other. She was framed in the center, a public spectacle.
Oh god, what am I going to do?
Nothing, of course. She was at their mercy.
The villagers circled. A clergyman stood at the front, holding a book in one hand and a whip in the other. Beside him was the village governor, Lord Baldeus.
The clergyman pointed at her. “This… deviancy… is unnatural. It does not belong in our kingdom, in our nation-state.”
Agreement rippled through the crowd. Nods. Murmurs. Faint grunts.
He threw the whip at her.
THWIP!
Then pulled it back, just before it hit. She flinched. But she couldn’t move at all.
“Priest Galvern, please stop this madness. Whatever ails her is the result of some accident. We should not make assumptions without a proper investigation,” Baldeus said, sweat glistening on his brow. She didn’t care much for the man. She didn’t understand why he cared for her. But her mother was close to that corrupt cunt. It rubbed her the wrong way to see him defending her.
“That’s right!” Saelyn shouted, her elven ears twitching. She shrank back as everyone turned to look at her. Then she tried to disappear behind a clearly pissed-off Captain Ysara.
Ysara stepped forward. “I hate to say it, but yes, futanarism is a completely natural and magical phenomenon. We are not the Inquisition. Who are we to judge her?”
“Wrong. It’s a sign of infernal influence. The seedling remnants of the dead Devil Queen. We will not tolerate it in this town,” the clergyman snapped.
A villager pointed at Captain Ysara. “Lady, she came on your face. That’s pure fucking evil.”
Ysara bared her teeth and rattled her saber. “If you don’t shut the fuck up—”
A fellow guardsman held her back.
Lyanna stepped forward. Shivering. Shaking. She looked pale—so pale, sickly even. Rennia couldn’t help but feel bad for her. None of this would’ve happened if she’d just—
“It was an apple! A black apple, An eve's apple,” Lyanna cried out. “We ate from the orchard while collecting. It was a job. That’s all. She had a weird reaction. I ate it too. But it wasn’t some evil thing. I think we all need to calm down.”
Another villager shouted, “She went with her! I saw it. What if she has one too? String her up butt naked!”
The villagers roared. The square lit up with madness.
Rennia’s eyes flared with confusion. Then she felt it—crack—a whip lashed her ass. Her cock flopped awkwardly as the pain shot through her. The crowd gasped. Someone snorted. Then laughter.
Another lash.
Her cock wiggled again. It started to rise. Some fucked-up part of her was aroused by it. Out of place. Unwanted. But her body didn’t care.
They were laughing at her.
Lyanna trembled, gripping her staff. Ysara held her back, whispering something. “She’s not a monster. Let her go!” Lyanna screamed.
A few guards dragged Lyanna behind the crowd, out of sight.
Rennia was alone.
Saelyn came closer. She raised her hand, signaling something. A sign. She was leaving. Going to get someone. She’d be quick. The elf darted off, blitzing through the crowd. Her eyes lingered, and her head did turn, locked on Rennia’s cock.
The clergyman stepped forward again. “This cannot be allowed to spread. Send her away or exile her.”
Baldeus shoved the man. “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Screams echoed from the distance. Rennia’s blood was boiling. The pain didn’t even register anymore. She knew that scream. It was Lyanna’s.
Maybe none of this would’ve happened if she hadn’t chased after Eldric.
Tears slipped down her face. She stared at the moon.
This wasn’t how she wanted to end her day. Or her life.
The cobblestones trembled. The crowd grew quiet. Guards shifted on their feet. Something was coming.
A woman stood at the edge of town.
Tall. Armored. Holding a shield bearing the old dragon crest. Rennia recognized it instantly. It had hung in their living room. A relic of a war long past.
Her mother stood there, slamming her sword against the shield. Once. Twice.
A warning.
The crowd parted.
Whispers flew.
“Shieldmaiden.”
“Heroine.”
“Devilsbane.”
Rennia didn’t understand a fucking thing. Just that her mother had been an adventurer once, in a diffrent lifetime.
Ysara stepped up, blocking the path. Her hands trembled. Guards followed, but half had already sheathed their weapons, turning away.
Her mother walked past them, silent. She stopped in front of Baldeus.
“That’s enough. I want my daughter down.”
“B-but Lady Ilna… the village rules dictate—”
“Now. Or this whole village will know what you do in the baron’s barns. You didn’t stammer when you were fucked—”
“Stop!” Baldeus shouted. “Unhand her. Straight away.”
Gasps. Glares. Nothing said. But everything understood.
Her mother pointed at the clergyman. “I want this one in jail for the night. And that whip used on him.”
The clergyman bolted down the street. He didn't dare question her authority or notoriety, but the guards didn't chase.
“Lady Ilna, I mean no offense, but rules exist for a reason,” someone muttered.
“And innocence comes before guilt,” her mother snapped. “Unhand my daughter. Or I will lose it.”
Ysara protested. She wanted a fair trial, not a mob spectacle. But her hands were tied—between appeasing the religious, the guilds, the law.
The ropes were cut.
Rennia fell. Ysara caught her.
Someone threw a thick cloak over her body. She didn’t cry. She couldn’t. She was hollow.
“Come, Rennie. You can walk, can’t you?”
She nodded and stood, following her mother through the dark. Her mother didn’t speak. Her face was a frown carved from stone. She’d taken up the shield again. That wasn't normal, she hated everything about fighting.
So much had happened. So much will.
But she knew better than to speak. She just kept walking.
When she got home, she was going to cry.
And cry.
And cry.
