The concentration camps, the questioning and torture sessions of the Nazis are well enough known – the stories of “medical experiments” too foul to print, of incredible torture sessions that went on for hours or even days. At least one German in the distant past was plainly an ancestor of the torturers and sadists of the Nazi world – even perhaps an inspirer of their most horrible deeds – Ludwig von Arnim.
It was his father that first took up alchemy, and with his son experimented for long periods searching for the formula that would turn base metals into gold. We cannot know who first suggested that human blood – the blood of a young virgin – might be a valuable addition to the formula, but to the von Arnims it soon became absolutely central to their plans and experiments.
At first the young girls they found were relatively quickly killed for their blood. The victims, drained of fluid were buried in the von Arnim castle moat. Five or six, perhaps more, young girls were captured and killed, screaming and struggling, in this way. Ludwig soon discovered that the thrashing and screaming of the dying girls were new pleasures. He was sixteen years old.
He bided his time. For the time being, Ludwig merely helped out with the “experiments,” and slaughtered the poor helpless victims whenever his father thought it necessary. Anything else, anything further, would have to wait. But the thought of the screaming girls fed some hunger deep inside him.
The naked bodies, the pleading whimpers, the slash of the knife and the scream of agony before each girl died…these became the center of Ludwig’s life, the glowing color he began to live for. It was a shame, he thought, that they screamed for such a short time. Perhaps he could make them suffer for whole minutes, for hours, even for days.
The idea excited him almost beyond control. But he waited. His father would see reason for such methods, and he was in charge. But his father was an old man and Ludwig would not have to wait long.
When that time came not long after, the remaining servants took an oath of fealty to Ludwig. Breaking that oath meant a horrible death and they all knew it. Besides, they too might have been infected with the torture-lust that glowed in Ludwig’s soul like a sickening fire.
First, he set them to building a torture chamber. The building alone took over a year. Many of his ideas were taken from the German Inquisition and many were older than that. But some were new products of his diseased but inventive mind.
All were horrible. The list is almost endless, but a few excerpts should be enough to give some idea of the twisted and powerful drives of this master sadist.
Rosa Bluehme: Rosa, nineteen years old, was taken off to the cellar rooms where Ludwig had set up his instruments of torture. According to his diary, he had her stripped naked and her wrists bound high over her head to the whipping-post, so she was forced on tiptoe with her body straining against the splintery wood. There he “warmed her up” with fifty lashes of a black leather whip, spacing the blows a minute apart so she would have time to anticipate the next lash and he could enjoy her pleas for mercy.
Her limp, blood streaked body was taken down and retied to the rack. When she awakened, the rack began to turn tightening the ropes on her extended limbs. Rosa, feeling her muscles strain to the utmost, screamed pitifully, until the pressure was so great she could no longer breathe deeply enough to shriek out her agony. Her lashed body rubbed itself raw against the wood of the rack, causing even more pain.
At the end of fifteen minutes, Rosa’s was stretched taut on the rack, her muscles quivering with the strain on her lithe body and her eyes glazing over from the unrelenting agony of her racking. Her fists bound to the stretching ropes above her head, clenched and unclenched in a vain effort to withstand the growing pain.
But Ludwig had barely started to work on her. Now, swung on hooks from a giant crane-like device, a metal plate, heated by red coals in the concave top, began to slowly descend from the ceiling. Rosa shrieked in anticipation of the burning agony.
Her screams did her no good. Slowly, inexorably, the metal plate came down, only to stop inches above her tightly restrained body. Ludwig held it there where she could feel the heat beating on her nudity, promising excruciating pain once it touched her naked flesh. Ludwig reveled in the way she tried in vain to move from her stretched and fettered place on the rack and delighted in her screams of “Take it away! Take it away!”
Finally he lowered it the last few inches so it touched her, covering her nakedness from her breasts to her knees, burning into her tender flesh while she shrieked for mercy and called on Ludwig for pity.
Ludwig had no pity. He lifted the plate so he could watch her naked body writhing in agony, hear her frantic pleas, before he once again lowered the diabolical instrument of torture.
Tormented beyond endurance, Rosa fainted again. When she awoke, still stretched taut on the rack, again she felt the kiss of his whips, but this time on her burned breasts, belly and loins. Finally he used hot irons to reach the places the torture plate had not reached, the soles of her feet, between her thighs and finally deep inside her.
Then there was the “moving wheel.” Grethe Schillerlein, a shapely girl of seventeen, was taken back to the cellar and strapped with her back to the rim of a giant wheel, so that her body, bent like a bow, was stretched to the point she suffered a new and terrible pain. He began to strip her, doing it slowly as he did with all the young women he tortured. Grethe spat her defiance at the monster. Ludwig only smiled, and when she was totally nude, set his special machinery to work.
The wheel revolved, several inches from the ground, turning very slowly. And underneath it was a bed of spikes. In an ingenious design, Ludwig had constructed the wheel so he could lower it a fraction of an inch at a time. With the first few revolutions he kept Grethe’s body just above the spikes, then lowered it so they just brushed the lowest part of her body at the nadir of the arc – her lovely breasts – barely scratching her but letting her feel the needle sharp points so she could imagine what they would do to her naked body.
Soon Grethe, her spirited resistance gone and her control broken, was screaming madly. As the wheel turned, Grethe’s helpless body was torn by the spikes, then lifted up again into the air, pausing at the top, and then forced again to descend into the hell of their sharp points and the agonized ripping of her soft flesh. In a refinement of his wheel, Ludwig had made the bed of spikes movable by small increments from side to side so no part of Grethe’s nudity would be spared the torture of the spikes.
The wheel went on turning for hours, while she shrieked herself into a hoarse insanity with pain. The intervals of lifting her clear of the spikes relieved her agony just long enough so that she didn't faint for almost four hours. At the top of the arc, Grethe would beg Ludwig to stop the torture, promising him anything if he would only have mercy. And when the wheel began to turn again she would start to shriek in horror, eventually begging him to just kill her.
In the end the torture had driven her hopelessly insane. Ludwig shrugged, disappointed because torturing an insane woman was not pleasurable, and had her garroted.
There were others, countless others, whipped to death or slowly burned with torches, torn literally to pieces on the rack or pressed to death with enormous weights. But his last torture was preserved in records set down by one of his servants before the castle was left untenanted, to crumble into ruin with the passing years.
It involved an eighteen year-old girl name Marlene Tiemann. She had been brought in like the others, kidnapped under the cover of night. She struggled madly when she was brought down to the cellar torture chambers, screaming obscenities at her captors and even managing to bite one of them. “I will enjoy watching you tortured and listening to your screams,” he said to her.
It took three men to strip her naked and tie her spread-eagled to a large wooden table. Once she was bound and unable to fight her captors any longer she lay still and stared silently up at the high ceiling. It was then that Ludwig came down and got his first look at her.
She was beautiful, incredibly so, a tall blonde girl with a full figure and long perfect legs. Her blue eyes stared back unafraid at the figure of Ludwig von Arnim, and the very defiance in that gaze made his smile, which had started at his first sight of his stunning victim, even broader. This one, he told himself, would not break easily. It would take a long time. He would be able to inflict eons of pain on the helpless nude staked out before him. Yes, Marlene would be a good subject for his experiments.
“I fear you not,” the fettered maiden said. “You are a man like other men, but you are a weakling who needs chains and ropes to do your bidding. You are not worth fear.”
Ludwig stepped forward and slapped the girl on her bared breast. She gasped in sudden pain. For the first time she began to understand the horror of her situation – she was held open by her wide spread limbs, the helpless naked captive of a madman. And she was going to be tortured.
“You will find I am worth your fear,” he snapped.
Tears of pain welling up in her eyes, Marlene spoke bravely nonetheless. “You may hurt me,” she said slowly. “But you cannot make me fear you. You hurt only the defenseless, only the weak. I may be defenseless, but I am strong.”
Ludwig, his control returned, smiled down at her. “I am counting on that. Because you are strong you will suffer as no other woman has suffered. You shall see that hurt is barely the word for the torture I am going to inflict on your beautiful body.”
He turned to an assistant and gave his instructions.
He was to try out still another one of his diabolical new ideas, this one perhaps as insidious as any torture he or any other man had devised. This was a single garment covering him completely to the neck, skin-tight and covered, on the outside, with a glittering array of sandpaper-like tiny spikes. Once dressed in his horror suit, Ludwig was a walking instrument of torture. As soon as he touched the girl he would tear her flesh – one caress of his hand was the equivalent of being ripped by hundreds of spikes.
Marlene watched Ludwig, at first not comprehending what he was doing. Then the glint of the torch light on the metal thorns told her and her eyes grew wide with horror. In her wildest imagination, she could not have thought of so terrible a torment. Her breast still hurt where Ludwig had slapped her, but the pain of that would be nothing compared to the biting, tearing power of the tiny spikes which covered her torturer.
Until that moment the word “torture” had been an abstraction. But now, strapped to the torture table naked and helpless it became all too real. But she made no sound. She watched and drew in a deep breath, determined to die unconquered by this beast.
Several minutes later Ludwig was ready for her. He approached her slowly. Only the soles of his feet were bare of spikes, allowing him to walk. He spoke, standing next to the torture table and looking down on her beckoning nudity. With him so close she could see the thousand tiny spikes clearly and she could not prevent herself from pulling on the leather straps that held her so cruelly in place. “Are you not afraid now?” he said.
“I will die,” Marlene answered. “I will suffer. But fear is too big an emotion for a little man like you.”
Her words were amazingly calm, but they were followed by a scream. Ludwig, goaded into action, had grabbed at her breast with his spiked hand. He squeezed it and pulled upward, his hand sliding up the girl’s sensitive flesh, ripping and tearing wherever it touched. He caught himself after only a second, leaving a short path of shredded skin that stopped an inch short of her areola. He would slow down the torture, make it last forever, make this young beauty suffer for her arrogance and bravery as no woman had ever suffered before.
Nothing in her life had prepared Marlene for such excruciating pain. Even after Ludwig removed his hand she continued to scream in pain. When her screams turned to moans, Ludwig had another idea. He turned to a servant, “Bring me salt,” he commanded.
The following hours seemed like days in hell to Marlene. Ludwig started by taking one finger and placing it at her shoulder, then dragging it down and through her armpit, leaving a trail of mutilated flesh a half inch wide. When her screaming ebbed he would take a handful of salt and rub it into the girl’s open wound, bringing more agonized shrieks.
Ludwig used only his hands to torture Marlene. Between applications of the spikes, he taunted her. “I am saving the best for later,” he gloated. “What you feel now is nothing to the agony I have planned for you.” Or he would promise, “If you beg me, perhaps I will stop and let you go.”
Despite her torment Marlene would not yield, her determination buttressed by the belief he would not stop torturing her no matter what she said. But although she would not surrender to him she could not keep from screaming or writhing sensually on the table as she fought against the leather straps that spread her naked body open for more torture.
“Now,” he said, “you know what it is to fear.”
Marlene’s words were hoarse and gasping. “You…monster,” she stammered, “for you… I have… only… contempt.”
He came at her again. This time he grasped her right nipple with one hand and pulled upward, stretching her breast so he could place the palm of the other on the tender underside, thus far untouched, and slowly knead it while she screamed madly at the unrelenting pain until she fainted.
When she awoke, brought around by the cold water he splashed on her, she saw a sight that broke her self-control; attached to Ludwig’s loins by straps that went around his hips and thighs was a wooden dowel, two inches thick and eight inches long, obviously representing a penis, and it was covered with the tiny spikes.
Marlene’s body arched off the table, only her wrists and heels in contact where they were held firm, as she fought against the leather straps that bound her. “No!” she shrieked. “Oh God no! You can't! You can't!”
“Why? You don't want to die a virgin do you?” And he gave a short bark of a laugh.
“It’s too terrible…even for you,” she sobbed, as she continued to struggle frantically against her bonds.
He said nothing, simply running his index and middle fingers up the soles of her feet, virgin territory for his torture, before he climbed up on the table between her legs. She bucked and heaved in her bonds, her slim ankles and wrists bleeding with her struggles against the straps, screaming insanely as the pain grew to incredible new heights.
She remained conscious as he ran his hands up the inside of her thighs. For the first time she begged him, “Stop! Stop! I beg you, not there,” as the spikes approached her sex. When he began torturing her lips, digging his fingers into them and tearing at the gentle flesh with a hundred sharp little spines she gave a long wail of “Noooooo!” and passed out.
“I need her awake for the finale,” he shouted in frustration at his servant. Despite his having seen scores of young maidens tortured slowly to death over the years, he could not watch this display of barbaric sadism, especially when carried out on one so beautiful, so brave and so helpless. But he did his masters bidding and threw a small pain of cold water over Marlene.
Immediately she screamed in pain and terror. Ludwig took one long look at the beautiful naked body writhing beneath him and grasped her hips, his fingers reaching toward her buttocks and his thumbs at the junction of her thighs and her hips, holding his young victim steady for the final violation.
The pain of the tiny spikes tearing at her flesh reached an unbearable level but still she remained awake and aware of her torture. When the barbed penis reached her shredded lips and began to enter her vagina, Marlene screamed as no other woman had ever screamed in the torture chamber.
Now Ludwig lowered his body onto the spread-eagled girl, covering her nudity with a thousand tiny spikes, first her thighs, then her belly then her breasts. His hands grasped her by the shoulders, digging into the muscles as he pulled himself up her naked figure. Marlene screamed, mostly wordless howls of agony, but interspersed with the plea, “Stop! Stop! Stop!” But the torture continued as he slid up her defenseless body, the barbs lacerating her, inside and out, his chest pressing down on her breasts, the spiked penis tearing up the virginal canal of her sex as it pushed deeper and deeper.
In remorseless pain, her view only a red mist of agony, she raised her head an inch, and then another. Her muscles jerked as she screamed, as the pain grew to inconceivable new heights. The barbed penis penetrated her as deep as it could go and his face was barely an inch from hers. She quivered and shrieked, but her head darted out – and her teeth sank into Ludwig’s throat.
He gave one scream and no more. He tore his neck free of Marlene’s teeth but his jugular had been severed. Blood spurted and he jerked and fell full onto Marlene’s bound body, his weight and the spikes pinning her flesh to the table. In his death throes Ludwig went into spasms, quivering uncontrollably. And with ever motion Marlene was tortured still more as the spikes ground into her, and his jerking body moved in an obscene parody of love making, grinding his pelvis into hers and tearing up her vagina with the spiked penis. She screamed for the servants to release her from her tormentor who was still torturing her after death but they had all fled the scene in terror. She died there, pinned under the vile sadist, screaming until her voice became a hoarse croak. But her unimaginable suffering went on until she died hours later.