Bound to me forever, a slave to my will.

Three are released, their souls will run free.

But they know they cannot escape me.

For you, my slave, you will end them here,

Who can run with a broken leg, a cracked skull?

A blade in the gut, a sword to the head,

And they will cower in fear instead.

Laughter is gone, Screaming of Pain,

Rise Pinkamena Pie, Torturer of Souls!

And so you are bound, a warrior to a greater cause.

Twilight’s head still spun when she woke. Black stops flited in and out of her blurry vision. She felt blood running from a fresh wound on her cheek, and bruises covering almost the entirety of her body. Stiff as a scarecrow, Twilight tried to move, only to find that her legs were tied down. Her forward legs were hung above her head, and her rear ones were stretched out below her. She felt movement, as if she was on a ship, and she smelled the salt air through an open window. Gone was the nutmeg, gone was the cider. What replaced them could only be described as horrific as Twilight’s vision eked back into existence. Her eyes widened as she saw the brutal contraptions that surrounded her.

Torture devices of all kinds littered the small room. Racks and pulleys mixed with blades and saws. Buckets of blood filled up a whole wall, the metallic smell entering Twilight’s nostrils, blocking out the sea air. She herself was tied up to a stretcher, a brutal device that was designed to pull and stretch a subject until he could move no more, then rip his legs from his body. The victim would feel excruciating pain during the process, and Twilight tried to scream, her mouth blocked off by the dirty rag. She shook around in the machine, the ropes and chains jangling about as she struggled to remove herself from the device. The door slowly creaked open, but Twilight could not hear it, the rattling of the chains too loud. A hooded pony entered the chamber, a shock of pink hair obscured by the black cloth. Twilight ignored the other pony as she picked up the blades that lay on a table in the center of the room. She carefully selected a sword, running her hoof over each blade in turn, testing each for sharpness. Finally, the hooded pony chose a serrated saw, the insanely sharp blade gleaming the light that poured from the window. Without a word, the pony shut it. Darkness instantly filled the room, the only light coming from the tiny candle that lay next to Twilight’s machine.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

Twilight heard the other voice come out from behind the hood. She stopped struggling for a moment, her eyes carefully staring at the saw in the pony’s hoof. The pony ran the blade against her hoof a few times more, satisfied at the red blood that leaked out of the wound. She licked the fluid away before waking up to a lever next to Twilight’s machine.

“So, another pirate girl who needs reconditioning. Perfect. That yellow one already took up too much of my time. Such a small one, she is. Wouldn’t want to kill her with it, if you catch my drift, haha. You, on the other hand, you look strong. Good. I can have a little more fun with you. My saws itch for blood.”

She pulled the lever towards her. Twilight felt a jolt, then the rusted cranking sound of a thousand gears working in tandem. The ropes that held her legs taunt tightened, and she felt herself being stretched out. She tried to scream, the rag in her mouth blocking out any noise she tried to make with it.

“Oh, poor thing wants to scream. Good. The other prisoners can enjoy the sound of your bloodcurler.”

The hooded pony ripped out the rag from Twilight’s mouth. She released her scream, penetrating through the walls of the ship as it grew stronger with every inch she was stretched out.  Bones popped, joints flew out of their sockets. She screamed. Her throat grew hoarse, and her lungs went numb with pain as her ribs splintered, but she did not stop. Pain shot through her body, overloading her nerves and dulling her vision.

The hooded pony pulled on the lever. The ropes suddenly went slack, Twilight’s dislocated bones popping back in with such force that she could not restrain herself from screaming again, her chest burning, her ribs broken. The pain would not stop. The fire would not cease. She screamed, and screamed as the hooded pony prepared to heat a metal brand, lighting a fire using a match and a few clumps of hay. Twilight watched as the hooded pony placed the brand in the fire, the metal glowing red-hot. She lifted it out when it burned brightly and turned towards Twilight.

Twilight screamed as the brand landed against her cutie mark, the metal searing through her skin, burning her right to the bone. She felt her skin roast, the purple hair lighting and burning, the once-lavender skin turning a jet black as her cutie mark was blotted out by the brand. The torturer proceeded to stick the brand into the fire again, and then press the hot metal against her other flank.

“Well, you sure are a screamer. The other prisoners will love you.”

Twilight lay gasping on the stretcher.

The torturess picked up the saw from the ground. Twilight watched as she held the sharp blade to her horn, the serrated edge landing against the base of the horn. She screamed in pain as the pony began to saw, the fragile structure of the horn breaking apart as nerves were severed, blood vessels bursted, and a red hole appeared on Twilight’s head where her horn once stood.

She watched her magic fall off her forehead and land on the ground below. The golden ring that wrapped tightly around the base of her horn lay coiled as always. The tourturess tried to pull it off, but failing in making it budge even a millimeter. Finally, with sweat in her eyes and blood running from her lip, she finally decided to stop.

“Well, that’s enough for today, sweetie. You can go back to your cell now.”

Blood dripped down Twilight’s face.

Two guards came through the door to escort her.