The Old Way. 

Not long after enduring a rather disappointing breakfast of bread, vac-sealed ham and lukewarm caffeine, I gathered my coat, hat and rosette wallet. The rosette, in case you’re curious, is my badge of office you see. I’m an Inquisitor by the name of Marant, serving dutifully in His most holy Inquisition. 

Stepping out of my hab tent, I’m met by the cold morning air of the agri-world Garansh. Emperor’s teeth, it’s cold! Were this not a day I’ve been working towards for some months now, I imagine I would have crawled back into my bunk with a bottle of the local poison and swiftly resumed last night's drinking. I could have stayed the night inside the warm armoured walls of the fort, but I’ve found it’s best to stay away from what the enemy would consider a prime target. But today was not a day to be missed. I’ve recently captured a criminal of some importance on this world.

You might assume that an Inquisitor of the most holy Ordo Hereticus spends most of his, or her, time battling the forces that threaten humanity and you’re not entirely wrong. But a lot of our time is filled with the completion of paperwork, attending meetings which drag on into the early hours and following up on correspondence from fellow Inquisitors. Laborious doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Luckily for me, this operation was to quell a small scale rebellion in the next town over. Minor cult activity, not even worth a footnote on my career history.

Stamping my feet and rubbing my hands together to convince my brain that I’m warm and active, I decide that I’ll take a walk through the sales avenue on my way to the fort. The buzz of stall vendors plying their trade always invigorates me so.
Turning the corner of the hab tent row I’m pitched in, I can already see the avenue and above it, looking a little run down, is the fort.
Passing through the avenue, I nod greetings to Guardsmen on patrol and politely decline the advances of vendors that carry trays of sweet cakes and disposable flasks of caffeine. They mean well, but the local confectionaries don’t sit well with me.

A couple of particularly large Inquisition Storm Troopers send me a stiff salute, which I was quick to return, as I passed the little bakers shop that sits in the middle of the avenue. The young bakers girl that ran the shop had lost her parents to the cult as part of a wholly heretical sacrifice. It was the older sister that was leading the local cult activity as a matter of fact. She’s in the fort now awaiting my arrival. As is the little sister.

A short climb up the hill on the far side of the avenue brings me to the fort that’s being used as as the base of operations for this operation. The gates, old fragile and well decorated, swing inwards at my approach, cutting a suitable impressive entrance. For I am a tall man, broad in the shoulders and nimbly powerful in the hips. The Inquisitions body-smiths granted me a form of perfect proportions and for that, I admire them dearly. 

The courtyard is already full of attendees. Groups of Guardsmen, local townsfolk and even lords and ladies from local high born families, out to see Imperial Justice in action. In the middle of the yard, stands a wooden stage, upon which are two pillars of steel, equidistant from each edge of the stage. 

Tethered to one pillar is the young bakers girl, still in her apron and dress. Facing her, tethered to the other pillar, is her older sister. I can’t quite pronounce her name, but it sounds something like “Kwahs”, I struggle with the local inflection, so believe me when I say it’s an unpleasant name.  

The young bakers girl is rather unassuming, except for the fact that she is graced with a truly beautiful face and gold curls of hair that comes to just beneath her shoulders. The older sister has the same face, but she wears it with a rictus grin. She also dyed her hair some shade of silver and removed her eyebrows. Cultist style I guess.

Walking across the yard, I spend no time with the crowd, I make my way straight toward the stage where the prisoners await me.  Stepping into the surface thoughts of the young bakers girl, oh yes, I’m a low level pysker, I read nothing but terror. The cultist girls mind reeks of seething hatred for me. How kind, she must remember my face.


I walk straight over to the cultist girl, sidestep the mouthful of brown liquid she spits at me and slap her hard across the face. When you’re as strong as I am, this is no small action. The cultists girls face whips around and two teeth ooze out of her mouth which is still smiling despite the cracked lips. 
“Now girl” I say, “It’s best you keep that sort of thing to a minimum.”
“Fuck you offworlder”
Another slap. Not too surprisingly, she stopped talking back.

Turning to the little bakers girl, I bowed down to her height and say, “I know you think this isn’t fair and, well, that’s not for me or you to judge. You’re guilty of association. You gave your sister food that was feeding enemy soldiers. You may not have known, but the fact remains.”
The little bakers girl is weeping, but she tries to keep her eyes focussed on mine. “I-it’s not fair” she wracks. 

I step and turn in one motion to face the crowd and call for silence. Looking down at the Ordos Scribe in front of the crowd, I ask her, “You’ve read the charges?
“Yes my lord.”
“And the judgement is passed?”
“Guilty, my lord” At this, the crowd cheers loudly.
“Then punishment is due.”

Turning to the cultist girl, I call, “You’ve been found heretical in the light of His divine will. You will now face ritualistic punishment, in the old way.”

The cultist girls grin disappeared instantly. A hush fell over the crowd, only to be replaced by a boom, thunderous cheer of support. They hurled insults at her and jostled for place, trying to get closer to the stage, but not daring to push past the now filing in Inquisitorial Stormtroopers. 

On the stage, I stepped back a few paces as wooden panels opened. A cage of sorts was rising out of the stages underside and it enclosed the cultist girl and her pillar with space to park a personal transport between each side. Then she heard the clinking. 
From inside the fort, a procession of Ogryns were marshaled into the light by yet more Stormtroopers wielding pain goads. Each Ogryn was, as is their nature, massive in every regard and chained to its counterpart by heavy metal links.

As the Ogryns took to the stage, I stepped back into the surface thoughts of the cultist girl and started to pick away her thoughts of escape and retribution. The only thoughts I left behind were those of fear and horror. 
One cage side lowered, and in marched the Ogryns.
They took a corner each and backed into it before the lowered portion of the cage returned to its original position. From the outside, the Stormtroopers reached in and removed the chains binding the Ogryns before stepping back and filing of the stage. 

I stepped aside so the cultist girl could see her little sister. Spreading my mind like a net, I clambered into the dusty minds of the Ogryns and found my way to their desire centres. Typically, these are wired for combat and destruction. But I rewired them for unbridled lust. And then, with the slightest nudge from my mind, I set the Ogryns on her. 

The first thing to go, was her prisoners robe of vibrant blue. The Ogryns tore it off in one fluid pull such was the size of their grasping hands. One Ogryn, certainly not the tallest of the lot, was behind the cultist girl. Clearly groping for a pale firm buttock, it pushed a thumb into her ass as he squeezed her flesh. She squealed in pain at this and tried to writhe away from the massive hand, but this made the Ogryn grip tighter still, driving the thumb deeper into her asshole. 

The next Ogryn I watched, was to the left of the cultist girl. Licking the side of her face and, for some reason, molesting her arm. When she tried to writhe away from the Ogryn gripping her asshole, the arm molesting Ogryn gripped her arm tightly to pull her back towards him. Doing so resulted in her shoulder being wrenched from the socket. The screaming redoubled and she bucked wildly in what I can only imagine was the most horrible of pain. 

The two other Ogryns moved as one, both grabbing for her breasts. When their hands collided, a brief scuffle broke out between them. At this point, the crowd was making such a din I would be surprised if my ears weren’t ringing for days to follow.
The larger Ogryn overpowered the smaller Ogryn and sent it scampering around the side of the cultist girl with a slap.
Returning it’s focus to the cultist girl, the Ogryn slid out its rather long tongue and pushed it into the cultist girls mouth stifling her cries of pain. 
With one massive hand, it grappled with her breasts, which were quite a bit bigger than the prison attire would have suggested. With the other hand, it gripped the pillar between her legs and slid his hand upwards, lifting her upwards. This in turn removed the thumb of Ogryn number one from her now stretched asshole, something I think she was glad of. 

The other Ogryns, who were now nursing turgid erections, complained loudly and pulled at the girl all wanting a piece of her. 
Looking down, past the ruin of her dislocated arm, the cultist girl spotted the large erect dicks and started to thrash.

“NO! NO! YOU CAN’T! GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME YOU SHITWIPE!” She roared and cursed at them, with shakes of pain running visibly through her body, her dislocated arm swinging uselessly. 
The tears were coming in rivers. 

The big Ogryn loosened his grip on the pillar and she started to move down it, inexorably, slowly, toward the Ogryns cocks. The tip of it pressed against her pussy which, for the sake of accuracy and the record, sported trimmed short golden hair. Presumably the only hair on her body she hadn’t dyed. 

While she battled against her bonds and aggressors, I took the opportunity to look round at the little bakers girl. She was just staring, transfixed.
Excellent, I thought. The message is sinking in just fine. Turning back to the cultist girl, things were taking a turn.

The little Ogryn that had been shooed away by the larger of his kind was, quite humorously, significantly better endowed. The tip of it’s huge pulsing dick was already pushing against the cultist girls asshole and I could see her back arching, trying to get away from it. But quite to her displeasure, the other Ogryn had grabbed hold of her ankles and quickly, sharply, pulled her down.


Both dicks, easily 11 inches at the very least, shot inside her and painfully penetrated her. You know, to this very day, I’ve never quite heard another person make the same noise as the cultist girl. It was somewhere between shock, agony and crying. It was really rather beautiful to me.

The Ogryns didn’t seem to move much. The cultist girl clawed at them trying to wrench herself free of them, but when she was nearly free of their violations, the ankle holding Ogryn pulled her back down with renewed squeals of torment. There was no pleasure in this for her, the human body isn’t designed to readily accept such abuse. 
She tried to climb free three times more, I must give her credit for her tenacity. Despite her attempts, she was heaved back down onto the Ogryns cocks once more, each time they went deeper. After the third escape attempt, she went a little limp. She wasn’t unconscious, the medical adepts will have no doubt filled her with some sort of body stimulant to keep her awake. I made a mental note to praise them.

Whilst the penetrating Ogryns started their thrusting, the ankle grabber switched his grip to her head. He turned her head to face him with one mighty hand and stuck his tongue, and I’m quite sure of this because of the gagging, down her throat. With the other hand, he placed her comparably miniscule hand on the tip of his cock and started to work it. The crowd was raging approval. Heretics must be punished.

The Ogryns had quickened their pace, it seems the ending was coming sooner than expected. As the thrusting became more violent, the Ogryns began to roar. The cultist girl managed to pull her face away from the tongue down her throat. The Ogryn who she disengaged from didn’t take this too well.
He returned his grip to her ankles and assisted the two monsters that were doing an admirable job at fucking her senseless.

The crowd fell quiet. It all seemed to happen in an instant. The penetrating Ogryns roared still louder and with a thrust of finality, thick cascades of grey cum poured out of her pussy and asshole, both of which were still plugged with Ogryn dick. Evidently being pumped full of Ogryn cum didn’t sit well with the cultist girl who started to convulse and choke out cries. 
Deprived of his chance to have fun with the cultist girl, the ankle grabbing Ogryn roared as well and tugged hard on the cultists girls legs and there was a definite crack as her knees dislocated and ankles fractured. The choked cries turned into ear splitting screams. 

Then she came apart.

The Ogryn pulled her legs clean off her body, tearing her open at the pussy in the process, leaving nothing but a startlingly white coccyx bone visible beneath the waist. The cultist girl screeched in pain and vomited, falling sideways, her arms flailing. With cum still drizzling down onto her destroyed body, the Ogryns watched confused as she writhed in a pool of bodily fluids. Their fun had ended and it didn’t quite register.
The denied Ogryn, still gripping a leg in each hand, savagely beat the cultist girl with her own limbs until she stopped moving, caving in her skull for good measure.

The crowd jumped into life again with chants of, “BURN THE HERETIC, KILL THE MUTANT, PURGE THE UNCLEAN!”
I quite liked the crowd.

A buzzer tolled and the Ogryns obediently back into the corner of the cage where they were shackled by the awaiting Stormtroopers. The side of the cage then fell away and the Ogryns marched out as though nothing had happened since they entered. The deprived Ogryn still had the cultist girls legs.

“JUSTICE!” I shouted to the crowd, “HAS BEEN DELIVERED UNTO THE HERETIC!” 
They shouted approval and I nodded. How cult activity had ever arisen on a world this manically devout, I will never understand.

I waited for the crowd to calm. I made a quieting gesture to help them understand that I was waiting on them. When silence fell and the cheering, whooping and exaltations of faith had stopped, I turned to the little bakers girl. 
She had passed out. Poor thing.
“Medic?” I cast about.

“Yes my lord.” A nameless medic moved forward from the Stormtrooper ranks and shoved a small needle into the little bakers girl who jerked awake almost instantly.
Still, the crowd was quiet.

Once again, I bowed down to her level and asked, “When did you pass out?”
“Th-the-they kil-” I cut her off, “When they killed her, yes, that will do.”

Turning to the crowd again, I said to the air, “Scribe? “You’ve read the charges?
“Yes my lord.”
“And the judgement is passed?”
“Guilty, my lord” 
“Then punishment is due.”

Unlike last time, the crowd didn’t shout their approval or remain wary of the Stormtrooper cordon, instead they pressed forward to the edge of the stage. 
I reached into the pocket of my coat and removed a control wand. One wave saw the girl unshackled from the pillar, her bindings still attached to the stage. A second wave and a pillory that restrained the prisoner at the waist unfolded itself from the stage. The Stormtroopers forced the little bakers girl into place and sealed the locks. A third wave saw her bindings fall away, swiftly collected by one of the Stormtroopers that were now leaving the stage.

The crowd was so close now, and so rapt, that I didn’t need to raise my voice at all.
“This girl, who many of you know as the serving girl from “Mid-Av Sweet Goods”, is found guilty of providing food to enemies of the Imperium. Punishment is due and it will be delivered, personally, in the old way.”

The crowd didn’t make a sound, but there was a general movement and surging in the crowd as they continued to jostle for a place. I turned to the little bakers girl, her lovely face framed by golden hair.

“Do you have anything to say?” I enquired.
“Yo-you can’t! YOU CAN’T! I’ll lose everything! Please, please please, you can’t…” She sobbed.
“Child. I think you’ll find that I can.” I grumbled flatly.

It may have been cold on Garansh, but I wasn’t chilly anymore, let me assure you of that. With fixedly heavy steps, I walked behind the little bakers girl and inhaled deeply. Running my hands over her back, I lifted the back of her dress, revealing pale buttocks and plain unassuming black panties and the top of her thigh high white bakery stockings. I sucked air through my teeth, “All part of the uniform.” I mused, thoroughly pleased by the uniforms design.

I hooked my index finger and thumb into the stocking on her right thigh and began to roll it down. Her pale legs were shaking violently, but that just made unrolling the stocking easier, truth be told. Once it reached her ankle, I took a moment to slide of the little black plimsoll she was wearing before removing the stocking entirely. I ran my hand up her left leg now, letting my fingers brush her inner thigh which brought another violent shudder, before repeating the disrobing of her left leg.

Running a hand over each pale buttock, I hooked a finger under each side of her panties, starting to slide them off over her bottom. The little bakers girl started to squirm at this, but I stepped into her mind and stung her head with a small lance of pain. The shock of mental intrusion and pain stopped her squirming straight away. It always stopped them. 
Pulling the panties down to her thigh, I revealed her asshole and possibly the tightest, smoothest and most inviting pussy I’ve ever set eyes on. This won’t go into my report, but it seemed a waste to punish something so fine.

Emperor be good, today was shaping up to be a fine day indeed.
Her decency still hidden from the crowd by the hang of her apron, the little bakers girl was crying, audible sobs pouring out into the onlookers who returned only jeers. 
I walked around to the front of the pillory and my eyes met those of the little bakers girl. Despite the tears, the puffy eyes, the face contorted with despair, she was still lovely to look at. 

“Trooper” I said in a commanding tone.
A Stormtrooper appeared quickly. 
“Sir!”
“Your blade please, trooper.”
“Yessir!”

The Stormtrooper quickly drew his combat dagger and inverted the blade with a snatch and a twist of the wrist. Handing it to me, I thanked him.
“Return to your post please trooper, I will see your dagger returned to you.”
“Yessir!” And with that, he withdrew from the stagefront.

I bent at the waist to remove the little baker girls apron, and when I was level with her again, she pleaded with me to stop.
I didn’t even look at her.
I took the dagger and cut through the fabric of the aprons shoulder straps and it flopped down. I lifted it again and sawed across the crease leaving only her dress front covering her decency.
Next I inserted the dagger into the collar or her dress, and dragged it through the fabric until it rang against the end of the pillory. The dress front fell away at the front and hung at the shoulders, so I removed those too.

The tiny white vest beneath was made of a fine material, the girl must have had money. With indecent haste I ripped it off her with my hands. In the cold air, her small breasts displayed before the crowd, the small, almost too pink nipples were pointed and hard. 
“Nearly done my dear” I purred.
I moved behind her again and ran the dagger around the remaining crease of her dress and, quite happily, I slid it to the ground. At this, the crowd roared approval. They too seemed to appreciate the little bakers girl.
Looking up at the crowd again, I called to them, “Justice, will be delivered.”

I unzipped the front of my dark fatigues and pulled out my cock. Those perfect proportions I mentioned, extended below the belt. Not one to lie, I’ll tell you now. I take great personal pleasure in my work.
The shaft of my dick in hand, I pressed the tip to the little baker girls asshole. She wriggled around in a vain attempt to avoid the inevitable, but with a bit of pressure, I pushed my way inside. 
She gasped and sucked in a breath, I guess she was trying not to scream. 
But slowly. Centimeter by centimeter, inch by inch, I pushed deeper. I could feel her muscles squeezing my dick, her body spasming in protest against the intrusion. Still not screaming, she was audibly gasping. 


I began to pull out, before thrusting again. Hard. This time, she did squeal. And loudly. Someone from the crowd shouted something about how the baker girl deserved it. Other voices joined in. Calling her a slut and a disgrace.
I continued to fuck her ass until her ass was loose and nowhere near as tight and inviting as it had been. I was able to move freely inside her with no resistance. I was satisfied she had taken enough. Removing the mental pleasure barrier I had put up inside my own mind, I came in her ass and didn’t pull out until my legs wobbled. 

Pulling my cock out, it hung limp in front of me. A little tweak of my own mind brought it back to life, and I pushed it between the little bakers girls thighs. Much to my surprise, her pussy was sopping wet, her juices running down the shaft of my cock, mingling with the cum pouring out her ass.

I gripped by dick again and set it against her pussy. 
“No please. Please noooo….” she slurred.
I crammed my thumb into her asshole as a grip and in one shove pushed the entire length of my cock, which is substantial, deep inside her. I’m sure I felt something tear and the little bakers girl fought like a daemon  to get away from me. She was squealing so loud that she temporarily outdid the din of the audience. I thrusted hard and fast, pumping in and out, destroying what was once a thing of beauty. She was still screaming, still crying and still asking for help.

At one point she dared as The Emperor for help.
When she did, a person from the crowd jumped upwards and punched the little bakers girl hard in the face. Two of the Stormtroopers quickly beat the offender into submission, cuffed him and dragged him away. Still engaged with the little baker girl pussy, I could see the Stormtroopers throw the offender into a holding cell. I fleetingly wondered who will punish him, and how.

With another satisfied shudder, I came inside her again. Filling her pussy to bursting point with cum, it was flowing out and dribbling down her inner thighs now. I turned to the Ordo Scribe at the side of the stage and, over the noise of the crowd, I said, “The Heretic's Brand please, Scribe.”

The scribe busied herself and brought me the Brand as requested, she muttered a quick prayer of sanctity and handed it to me, where it blazed with an internal heat. I removed the control wand from my pocket again and waved it. The pillory creaked and raised the girl into a standing position, the horror written across her face was plain for everyone to see.

Her sister lying in tatters mere meters away, standing naked before a courtyard of her peers, cum leaking out of her ass and pussy, her face still framed by the golden hair, the little bakers girl was suitably punished. I put my fingers between her legs and collected some of our joined fluids and I wiped them across her left breast. I raised The Heretic's Brand and pressed it to her breast and held it tight. It hissed and spat as it scorched into her skin. She squealed louder than ever as I pressed it into her.

Stepping back, admiring my work, I looked at the Aquila resting atop an Inquisitorial Seal and said, “You’re absolved.”

Tucking my cock back into my fatigues, I turned to the ordo scribe as she came forward to collect The Heretic’s Brand. “If I’m needed, I’ll be in my tent. Praise be to The Emperor.”


2 Years Later

Garansh, like most Agri worlds, doesn’t seem to change much. The Ordo Hereticus is conducting its follow up on the rebellion and, as overseeing Hereticus Inquisitor, I’m here again in the same tent as last time. Still, I shouldn’t be here long.
I make my way through the sparse PDF deployment and head for the fort, taking an old route I favoured. Through a little avenue of vendors and stores.

Along the way, I remember old smells wafting from stores and old sights, like a bakery, now devoid of life and empty. A vendor approaches me and I politely decline his advances. Some things never change.
Just as I reach the hill that leads to the fort, something golden catches my eye. Golden hair, long and curled.

I approach the young woman from behind and beg her attention.
She turns drunkenly and put her hands and head against my chest.
“Well aren’t you a big chunk of man? Howz about it den?” She lowered her shawl and shook her chest in a way I assume she thought was alluring.

I pressed some large denomination coins into her hand and, looking down at her, I said, “Remember me?”
She looked up and her expression hardened, “Oh Emperor...no.”
“Emperor be praised” I said.