ACT I
In which time has grown short,
the world has grown dark,
and Alassiel has grown.
The colors of the sky shifted and changed according to a pattern no one could determine. The vastness of that lurid cosmos was ancient beyond the existence of any being that walked the earth, and its chaos more eternal than anything wrought of the living. Its garish light colored the ground, staining two beings standing upon it in alien hues as they waited outside the curtain of mist that formed the veil… a ward that kept even them from entering the kingdom of Silas uninvited.
The two never stopped watching each other, even as they patiently looked towards the veil. These two had fought for thousands of years. They were still fighting this day — elsewhere in the untamed lands, blood was being spilled by their armies this very second. The first, a man, stood tall in armor of precious metals. The surface of those metals had been tarnished by long battle, but the dents and soil gave the intricate mail a sense of dark character. Two curving, crescent shaped blades rested at his sides, unsheathed and glinting in the shifting hues.
The other was a stunning woman, armored in bone. The curving ruin of a dragon skull formed a helm for her face, and blond hair cascaded straight from beneath it. Eyes the color of a frozen sea shone from beneath the mask, and her lips seemed to glisten with blood, so red where they. The bones the woman wore exposed not an inch of skin below the neck, but were so tightly fitting that they hardly seemed to satisfy any sense of propriety, leaving a viewer with no doubt exactly what she looked like wearing nothing at all.
As the two combatants casually watched each other, waiting, a man would expect that eons of this war had created a kind of respect between the two — an acknowledgment of their status as a nemesis and a worthy opponent.
A man would be very, very wrong.
Slowly light began to blaze through the curtain of mist — not the shifting hues of color from the sky, but rather a simple, pure white glow. The veil parted, forming a perfect arch in which the barrier of fog did not flow, and in the newly created gate a dwarf stood, the warm glow of light reflecting from his elegant silver armor.
“Caer,” Zegadu said with a nod. “Kardas. Won’t you please come in?”
26 years ago, seventh year of the War of Ascension, Accida Ridge
The thumping of boots and the clanking of metal echoed eerily in the rough, hewn-stone corridors as they twisted through the darkness. No light had graced their descent except for the flickering flames of their own torches, and the triumphant pace of the first steps had become more hesitant the farther down they went, as shapes hiding in the dark receded just out of torchlight range.
Even the red mane of the captive no longer shook in defiance every few steps, resisting the two monstrosities dragging the woman along. The bulk of the pair of dragons surrounded her and stifled her ability to move in any direction but forward, crowding her onward by the virtue of occupying the rest of the space. The ominous silence of the underground complex had silenced even the goddess of life, a feat little had managed before. Her brightly glowing eyes strained against the dark as she looked for any indication of what was happening to her.
Once the group had slowed she could walk as fast as her captors, in spite of the short chain linking her fettered ankles, hobbling her. After the fight she had put up at first, the two monsters had decided to take no chance with the goddess and immediately gagged and bound her to prevent her from using any of her magic. They cuffed her hands behind her back, tying them to a rope tightened around her waist, binding her arms to a staff brought up under her shoulders and encasing her bare feet in iron cuffs connected with a short chain, to prevent her from running effectively. Since this also prevented her from walking quickly enough to satisfy them, the dragons had taken turns carrying her by the staff under her shoulders, while the Sirae spared no effort to make their lives harder.
The corridors were over, and their steps now sounded like they were in a sort of large underground hall, with imposing pillars rising up in the darkness to a ceiling beyond the dwindling light of the torches. A dripping sound could be faintly heard in the distance, but no other noise could be heard beyond those of their own making. Something about the ambiance of this place was terrifying. One dragon addressed the other for the first time the goddess had heard, whispering for no good reason. “Is this where he wanted the little whore goddess brought?”
The other, scales burned from a surge of the goddess’s power earlier, shook his muzzle and whispered back, “I think so,”
“It is,” whispered a voice in the darkness, and everybody jumped, and Sirae softly swore into her gag. Realization of the full level of his treachery striking her as all pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Not only had the fool summoned dragons inside the veil, but Sanguinar had betrayed a truce: a violation of realm law. All of Silas would rise against him now.
‘Is he mad?’ Sirae questioned herself.
While Sirae’s mind realized the truth, the dragons had recovered their poise and dragged the goddess forward, finally revealing the countenance of the Lord of Suffering out of the darkness. His armor twisted his visage into that of a demon, and was designed to inspire terror in any who laid eyes upon him. Not even she was completely immune to the psychological effect, and a surge of adrenaline shot through her as the dragons threw her to the floor as his feet.
“Hello my dear,” said the man’s grim voice, cold as the spaces between the stars. “It has been a while since we met without fighting, hasn’t it Sirae? I thought we might discuss this conflict for a spell.”
The struggling goddess spat an answer through her gag, but it was distorted beyond recognition. Sanguinar laughed. “You must enunciate, my dear. I can’t understand you. Spittle flew from his lips to her face as he smiled, her golden eyes burning brighter with inner power and rage. “But since that is apparently beyond you, I’ll talk and you listen.”
With that he turned and started slowly walking back into the darkness of the hall, the dragons following him with their torches burning. One scaled hand grasped her firmly by the rod and lifted her from the ground with a strength no man could match. AS he walked, Sanguinar continued. “I brought you here so that we can have a discussion. Your magic is useless here, on my holy ground, so I would advise you to listen.” He chuckled, ahead of her in the darkness. “I think we can both agree that this war has lasted long enough,” he said, boots making harsh sounds as the hobnailed soles struck stone. “Too many have died. Subjugating your people is beyond me at this time.”
He turned and slugged Sirae in the face as she was held. Her jaw tried to snap closed under the force of the blow, and only the gag between her lips prevented her from biting her tongue or lips. The goddess could taste blood in her mouth as Sanguinar turned and resumed his walk as though nothing had happened. “The war ends tonight, my dear.”
The hall turned into another set of stairs, and the dragons carried the elf down after the black armored god. Light burned at the bottom of the stairs, the warm glow of fire, and the mood seemed to slightly lift until Sirae could see what awaited her inside the chamber. Deep beneath his temple at Accida Ridge, Sanguinar kept a personal room for his own use. It was filled with instruments of agony, and the devices and floor both seemed covered with dried blood that flaked away under the clawed feet of her captors. The smell was unbelievably foul, and the saurians’ nostrils flared unpleasantly.
The chamber was a large, vaulted hall divided in sections by thick pillars and lit by torches and braziers large and small. The light clearly illuminated the tools designed for no purpose other than suffering, and cold fingers of fear crawled up Sirae’s spine for the first time in centuries. The lord of suffering was bent on living up to his title and taking a slow and painful revenge on her for her resistance. He had adopted this suicidal treachery to satiate his hatred.
As soon as Sanguinar removed her gag, Sirae’s vitriol flowed from her lips. “Are you insane, Sanguinar! Summoning dragons here, and such base betrayal? You have damned yourself.”
He smiled as he ran his hands along her leather-clad form, stopping a hand crudely against her breast. “Let me worry about that. You have your own worries, elf cunt.”
“He is as mad as his father!”
The assertion of the angel caused the gathering to erupt into another bout of shouting, led by Kardas. “And I suppose you consider yourself an expert on madness, Caer?”
The god of justice flared his nostrils as his eyes turned on the demon queen. “When it comes to matters of insanity, centuries of observing you has given me great insight.” Spit flew from his lips as he yelled at the blond demoness. “Or do you think we haven’t noticed the demons raping and pillaging everything they can reach inside the Veil every time it flickers and wanes.
Not intimidated by the God of Justice in the slighest, the demon queen yelled back. “Since you haven’t noticed in thousands of years that I am only one of the demon warlords, and all demons hardly follow me,” she said, clenching her fists, “I suppose you can hardly be bothered to notice that they aren’t mine!”
Caer scoffed. “And you expect us to believe you, knowing what you are?”
Kardas bristled and began to retaliate when Zegadu interrupted the imminent fight. “We are here to discuss Lahk, and the veil. Not our rivalries.” He threw his axe into the earth between the angel and demon pointedly. “He seeks to cast us into the same position Sanguinar did a quarter century ago.”
The demon queen spat on the ground, her saliva passing her succulent lips as blood. “He is just a mortal human. A man, and no more.”
“So was Sanguinar once!” Caer roared and the demon twirled back to him while Zegadu sighed helplessly, unable to control the conversation at all.
To the disgust of the goddess, the dark god was now fondling her in earnest, his cock bulging beneath his pants. It rubbed intently into her flesh more than once has he ran his hands up and down her holy body. Sirae shuddered when his hands grabbed her calves and then slid up her thighs, his thumbs digging briefly into her sex through the leathers before they returns to her full breasts and savagely dug into the covered flesh, sinking into the soft tissue as she groaned and squirmed in her bonds.
“How about we bring her Haughtiness down a notch first?” he said, and the two dragons chuckled.
Sanguinar ran his hands back down to her crotch, and Sirae clenched her teeth as cold gripped her stomach. His words and actions were making his intent perfectly clear to the goddess of life. For no sound reason, she had assumed she would be spared rape. Surely even the mad god couldn’t mean to go that far, she had thought. As she opened her mouth in protest Sanguinar forced his lips against her, pressing his tongue into her mouth. She tried to bite him, but the kiss was too quick and he was gone practically before the shock of the assault had worn off. One of her dragon captors pressed the gag back into her mouth as Sanguinar drew a knife. “Take her over to the table,” he said with a point, and her captors complied.
Sirae wasn’t going to get the option of stripping for him. “Bend the whore over,” he said, and the two dragons overpowered her and forced her down to the iron table. Without unbinding the elf, Sanguinar pulled two shackles from the sides and locked them to her on the middle of her upper arm. He punched Sirae in the side three times then for fun, and while she wheezed under the assault the god unshackled her ankles from one another and attached them to the legs of the table instead, spreading them wide.
Sanguinar grabbed Sirae by the hair, and she gave a slight scream as he pulled her head up high by the scalp. “Disgusting cunt,” he hissed and spat. The glob landed right beneath her eye, and slowly slid down her face as her eyes glowed golden with unbelievably hatred for the venomous god.
Walking behind her, he slid his knife up under Sirae’s hip and to the edge of her leather pants. The fantastically shape blade cut easily through even the tough leather. Sanguinar slid the steel down the length of her trembling leg, allowing the entire leg of the outfit to hang loosely from her flesh. The second half of the pants provided no more resistance than the first had, and with the knife so close to her flesh Sirae could hardly dare to breath, let alone struggle.
Her leathers fell to the floor as the blade continued cutting, revealing her crotch to the leering stares of the god and his pair of dragonic minions. Sirae winced and struggled as she felt fingers against her bare skin, playing over the surface of her delicate cunt and curling through her trimmed pussy hair. She screamed in outrage into the gag, but Sanguinar just laughed at her protests.
The knife resumed its work. Cutting away Sirae’s vest and shirt was even easier. Quickly, the Lord of Suffering slid the knife beneath the animal skin. “Hold still cunt, I wouldn’t want to cut you already,” Sanguinar warned as the woman continued to thrash. When she was finally still, he moved the blade up her side with agonizing slowness, drawing out her humiliation as the last of her flesh was bared. All too soon for Sirae, the leather was cut free and pulled away, leaving the elf goddess bare upon the table.
“What beautiful tits,” the crude god stated with a laugh, pressing against the full globes of soft flesh with the flat of the knife. It had warmed slightly from the contact with her skin, but it was still chill against her sensitive breasts. Sanguinar walked out of sight for a moment and when he returned he carried a whip.
Sirae widened her eyes as he took that whip and looped it around her neck. Sanguinar twisted it so it contracted and closed down on her flesh. The goddess gasped as the braided leather constricted her throat, robbing the elf of air. “Our people think us immortal,” Sanguinar said in a harsh whisper into the red haired goddess’s ear. “But you and I know better, don’t we? Sirae?” He watched Sirae’s face grow as red as her mane before he slackened his grip.
As soon as the whip came loose Sirae took in deep breaths. “No, its not time for that yet, is it?” Sanguinar continued whispering into her ear. “We have so much fun to have before that.” Savagely Sirae whipped her head backwards at where Sanguinar was whispering to her from, but he had expected the attack. The grip on her hair became firm and he tugged her painfully back down and pressed her cheek harshly into the cold steel that she lay upon.
“Although,” he said, as though in after thought. “I should teach you to behave better first.”
He took the belt entirely from around Sirae’s neck and got behind her bare ass, exposed and up in the air. He held out his hand and the dragon, smoke rising from his nostrils now, handed the god a pair of serrated clips. Sirae’s body started to shudder and she tried to crawl away, but it was a futile effort bound to the table as she was. He grabbed her around the neck and pulled her back against him, reaching beneath the elf and pinching her right nipple until it grew hard.
“I thought I said to behave,” he whispered, and Sirae screamed as he closed the sharp metal teeth shut on her nipple. It burned, far worse than she would have expected. The clip was incredibly strong and sharp, and it dug into her vulnerable flesh like a ravenous animal. She twisted her torso in an attempt to knock the clip off, but it held firm.
“Hold still slut!” he yelled as he grabbed beneath her, reaching for her other nipple. Sirae did anything but hold still, but she was too tightly bound to long evade his grasp. Sirae screamed into the gag again as Sanguinar closed the second clip on her other nipple. His hands ran over her upturned ass as she struggled in pain, and when he explored her crotch she realized with horror that the position she was bound into spread her pussy wide. She tried to close her legs as much as possible, but only had a few inches of movement to work with, and her struggles amounted to nothing.
He ran his hands over Sirae’s ass, feeling her power muscles contract and twitch under his touch. “I am going to enjoy this, you worthless whore.”
Sanguinar twisted his body with the speed of a striking serpent and used all his strength to bring the whip down on Sirae’s ass. The sound was incredible, it ripped through the basement like a crack of thunder. A second later, he heard Sirae scream, her head arched up as the whip recoiled back from her ass. Sanguinar looked down at the damage appreciatively. The whip had cut into Sirae far deeper than any human torturer could manage. His tremendous strength had torn into her with savagery the woman could barely believe, and the whip stroke had lay her ass open as cleanly as a slice from a knife, cutting savagely into her ass.
Sanguinar licked his lips as he brought the whip back for another blow. “Suffer, you whore!” he yelled as he brought another blow down on the elf goddess, opening her flesh a second time. A tiny amount of blood sprayed onto his face and he almost lost control. He wanted to rain down blows on this sexy bitch, his damned divine rival, until she was nothing but a broken, bleeding mess beneath him, but savagely he restrained himself. There was more to be gained here than his satisfaction.
He brought the whip down as hard as he could, this time striking the back of the elf’s thighs. The metal table bucked maybe an inch from the ground as the goddess’s entire body spasmed away from the blow, and she screamed again. Again and again he brought the whip down on Sirae’s body, crossing her ass, back, and thighs with bleeding, red cuts. He didn’t care how many times he hit the hated bitch, he only wanted her to suffer.
Sirae’s head went limp finally and Sanguinar stopped the beating. The god gripped the unconscious elf’s tits savagely, placing himself over her and then pulling down his pants to free his hardened member. He bellied up behind the bent woman he had whipped into oblivion. As he slammed his dick forward into her tight pussy she awoke.
She quickly resumed struggling, but it was too late at this point. With her arms and legs bound, and his dick to the hilt in her snatch, there was precious little the goddess could do to resist. “A tighter pussy than I’d expect for such a whore!” He roared with lust as Sirae’s tight, unwilling cunt completely encased his cock. He grabbed her by the hair and arched her head up, using the red mane as a handle to pound into her body like the sea crashing on the shore. The metal frame she was bound to shifted forward with each crushing thrust, and her body was filled with the agony and humiliation of this assault on her.
Sirae had not been with a man since the death of her last lover half a century ago, and she still longed sometimes for his strong yet tender embrace. There was no tenderness in what she was being subjected to now, and Sanguinar’s rutting member trashed her insides in a frenzy devoid of any love. He simply wanted to batter Sirae’s pussy with his prick.
She grit her teeth to quench any sound escaping from her mouth, attempting to relax and ease the pain while the man panted, grunted and pushed relentlessly. He was accelerating his abuse of her with every second, growing more and more brutal as he approached climax. “That’s it, whore!” He yelled as he flattened her breasts against her chest with the savage strength of his hands, using them to pull her deeper onto his invading cock. “I’m going to tear your spawn right from your loins, you little cunt!”
Her imagination tricked her into thinking she could hear him squirt inside her womb as Sanguinar flooded her insides with warmth, spraying her with his seed. The abject humiliation of being pumped full of seed by the monster almost made her retch, but she had managed to keep herself immobile under his assault, and nearly silent. She was unwilling to give him the satisfaction, especially now that the rape was over.
The goddess blinked away the beginning of what might have been tears, banishing them before they could form.
He would not get the satisfaction from her.
When Xiri spoke, they all listened.
The conversation had continued devolving. Kardas was spoiling for a fight it seemed, and Caer was all-too-willing to be provoked by the demon. As the conversation drifted further and further afield from Lahk and his invasion, the Lord of Change felt even his immortal patience being strained.
“Enough.”
Xiri barely whispered, but the word silenced everybody immediately. Xiri was the strongest of them, and the oldest, and they all knew it. The other three turned to face the chaos avatar, and his amorphous body flickered into a multitude of shapes as they looked. “We have met to discuss the fate of the veil, and Lahk’s effect on it,” Xiri said, and his voice was a collection of echoes. It sounded like hundreds of people speaking in almost-perfect harmony, and the volume seemed to rise and fall in seemingly random intervals. “And that is what we shall do.”
Zegadu nodded. “Thank you,” he said, turning to face the angel and demon. “Our creation weakens further every day. Sanguinar’s madness may have already crippled it beyond recovery.”
“I believe,” Xiri spoke again, “that Lahk is little more than a continuation of that same madness.”
Taking a deep breath, Caer forced himself to remove his hands from his sword hilts. “If it is already crippled beyond repair, what can we do?”
All eyes turned to Zegadu. “I’m not sure that it is,” the master artisan admitted, “but even if it may never regain its former strength, we can prevent it from continuing to deteriorate.”
“How?” Caer asked.
Kardas spat out a brief laugh. “By providing a new authority. Should we then support the mad priest?”
Caer growled. “No one is suggesting that.”
“That is exactly what he is suggesting,” Kardas retorted, pointing viciously at the dwarven god of beauty. “Are you not?”
Zegadu shrugged. “I confess, I don’t see anyone else with the capability to rule this land.”
“Or it could be one of us,” Kardas said.
Caer spat on the ground, his hand returning to a sword hilt. “And I suppose you think it should be you.”
The glow in the demon’s eyes flared and flames suddenly covered her right hand. They coalesced instantly into a many-bladed whip, the length resting casually against Kardas’ arm. “Better than a fool like you, Plag’mahou!”
The use of the demonic tongue seemed to knock Caer back a step, then his eyes narrowed. Both hands were now resting on the hilts of his crescent blades. “I have waited a long time to repay you for what you did to Alexandra and the others…”
“We have not come this way for your petty grievances!” Zegadu interrupted, and Xiri immediately knew it had been the wrong thing to say.
Two weeks into Sirae’s captivity
Sirae’s pitiful moans echoed in the darkness of the chamber beneath the stones of Accida Ridge. The elf goddess found it surprisingly easy to resist giving Sanguinar the pleasure of her screams and tears. He had received several cries from her on the first day, but that had been surprise as much as pain. Now, weeks into her torture, her pride provided a strong counter to her humiliation and suffering. Here, though, alone in the darkness with no one around to watch her and no one to see her suffer, resisting the agony was far harder. Nobody had removed the gag from her mouth in days, but the ache in her jaw and the scratches on her cheeks from the rough leather were not the reason of her anguish.
She lay spreadeagled, face up, on a bed of stone wedges. Each of the stones was a four sided pyramid of stone that behaved as caltrops, with a tip always pointed upwards into her flesh no matter how she wiggled or moved them. The tips and edges of the stone were not actually sharp, but they were severe enough to make lying on them as uncomfortable as possible without being able to draw blood from the goddess.. She had tried to push some away, but the chains at her wrists and ankles only allowed her to move sideways, and the wedges were all linked together so she was unable to sweep a place to rest her wounded body.
And she was wounded. The last several weeks had brought upon her the unbridled wrath of Sanguinar, leaving her burnt, bleeding, broken, and almost utterly defeated. The scars had all vanished from her body nearly as fast as Sanguinar had been able to put them there, but healing them exhausted her energy bit by bit, and the pain from the wounds remained with her. She had so far managed to deny him the pleasure of her screams, but with the open mouth gag they had begun to use it was growing more difficult. Pinning her mouth open deprived her of the simplest means to control her voice, and only her godly will would allow her to utter no sound under the atrocities the Lord of Suffering perpetrated upon her.
At first Sirae thought it was just her brain playing tricks on her, but finally she realized with horror that the sound she could hear was indeed approaching footsteps.
Apparently her tortures for the day were about to begin.
When the approaching torchlight lit the chamber, it was the pair of dragons who came into view first. The fiends approached, and despite herself Sirae started to tremble. The dragons were terrifying.
They still wore the humanoid forms they preferred within the veil, but at any time, she knew they could change shape to the winged monstrosities of legend. To her, they looked like hulking men covered in black scales, who seemed to glow with inner fire behind their eyes and mouth. Smoke periodically rose from their nostrils as strong tails swished back and forth, betraying their agitation or excitement. They were less powerful in these human forms, she knew, but they sacrificed little of their incredible strength, and they gained much in mobility — a fully grown dragon could never have fit into this dungeons, after all.
The flickering torch light burned in Sirae’s glowing eyes as the first of the dragons stopped before her, kneeling on his haunches as he stared down at her bound, naked form. She felt every bit as exposed and vulnerable as she had that first day when Sanguinar had raped her, and the feeling had not diminished each time he’d violated her afterwards.
“Bad news for you…” the dragon kneeling before her said, his voice more of a growl than human speech. “Sanguinar is done with you, he’s gotten what he needed.” His eyes shined maliciously in the dim light. “Which means things are going to get worse for you, little whore goddess.”
He bent down and put his muzzle against her throat. Sirae winced as his rough, forked tongue played out against her tormented skin. “You wanted to know what Sanguinar had offered us for your services?” He snorted out a laugh, and smoke flowed into her face. She tried not to cough. “We get you, little whore goddess. And after your done here, maybe we’ll take that whore body of yours back into the untamed lands.”
The other dragon started laughing as he circled the prone elf woman, his eye glowing like smoldering coals. “You left behind a lot of friends there, whore goddess. Other immortals who can bear quite a grudge…”
“But that is a long time from now, Sirae,” the first growled again, his teeth dragging softly over her throat. She could feel a slimy cock pressing against her legs as he stood over her. She closed her eyes, expecting the worst… which was soon confirmed in her fears when the dragon leaned his weight on the elf and pressed himself against her vulnerable ass.
He savagely pressed forward, driving the cock firmly into her. A small cry escaped her throat despite all efforts to contain it. The dragon’s cock was harder than the stone beneath their feet, and covered with hard black scales that tore at her vulnerable inner flesh as he drove the weapon further into the elf goddess, violating her where she lay. The wedges beneath her dug more and more painfully into her back as he rested more of his vast weight atop his slender victim, and he drove her further down into the spikes with every thrust of his rutting member inside her. She could feel the veins between the scales that covered his dark cock, hot to the touch as the dragon’s molten blood flowed through them. It made his length unbearably hot, and it seemed to scald her insides even as the scales scraped at the vulnerable hole.
Sirae was drowning in a nightmare of burning agony, the wounded skin hurting terribly when the points of the caltrops forcefully caressed her. The goddess’s strained muscles protested her stretched position violently, trembling beneath her rapist and bringing him further pleasure. Her violated ass throbbed in pain, and she desperately craved the merciful embrace of unconsciousness.
Sirae heard a crushing sound by her head, and she saw stone tetrahedrons being crushed beneath the scaled feet of the other dragon as he approached her. He grabbed her head by the scarlet hair and ripped the gag from her mouth. To her shame, Sirae found her jaw refused to work properly, and after being held open for so long it was reluctant to close.
“If I feel even a single tooth, you will never again eat solid food for the rest of your life.” the dragon hissed menacingly, slapping Sirae’s face with his slimy, wet cock. “I’ll rip the teeth out of your mouth and use your throat for a cocksleeve until you choke. So think carefully,” the dark scaled beast rasped furiously, “before you make any rash decisions.” Sirae didn’t talk back, and as far as the dragon was concerned, that was all the co-operation he needed from the goddess. The elf woman tried to turn her head away but the dragon’s grip on her hair kept her from twisting too far away. Holding her firmly, the dragonic rapist forced his scaled cock past her lips and into her spread mouth.
Sirae readied herself to bite down, yet she didn’t. Every instinct in the elf told her to hurt the monster holding her hostage, hurt him as badly as the dragon had hurt her pride, but as humiliated as she was right now Sirae was afraid. She was ashamed to admit it, but she wanted too badly to live, rather than to strike out at the beast and see what he would do to her if she resisted too much. She could feel that thick, ribbed shaft resting against her tongue, and the taste of it made her eyes water. The oily texture of the scales made her want to gag, and the dragon’s strange, bitter cum left a burning sensation on her tongue the longer it stayed on her taste buds, until she was forced to swallow it. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but the dragon forced her to lick at the chitinous cock while the other dragon continued pressing into her ass with extreme brutality.
At least while it was soft, it wasn’t too difficult to take into her mouth, though that meant that the dragon could force her to lick every inch of it with her tongue. The black scaled monster snarled and glared down at her, smacking the side of her head every time she seemed reluctant to lick until the goddess again complied, the hatred welling up in her eyes.
Sirae’s eyes tried to cry but she willed the tears away, banishing the sign of her weakness as she was forced to polish the dragon’s prick. Her tongue dug in beneath the wide ridges and scooped out globs of filth that had gotten stuck between the scales of the monster’s cock. The dragon growled, his vocalizations indicating his pleasure as Sirae licked him clean. That ugly, inhuman member throbbed against Sirae’s tongue, thickening as it was covered with the goddess’s spit. Grinding his pelvis into Sirae’s face, the dragon groaned, mashing his rough testicles against her forehead roughly as he pressed her down harder against the sharp stones beneath her.
Sirae could hardly think for the pain now. She could feel blood welling from her ass as the monster continued to impale her deeply with the molten hot cock. He never slowed and never reduced the force of his brutal attacks on her tight fuckhole, pressing her down onto the pyramids until she was certain they were all pressed inside her body, and she was nothing but brutalized meat, bleeding out on the dungeon floor.
Before long, the dragon’s tool had grown too huge for Sirae to swallow the whole thing comfortably, and inch by inch it slid back out past her lips, the wide ridges forcing her lips taut and the whole thing glistening with her spit. The red-head strained, feeling like the sheer width of it might dislocate her jaw. She tried with her tongue to push the thing away from her before she choked on the thick, fleshy spear. The dragon let her ease back until just the thinner, pointed tip of the scaled weapon was still resting on her tongue. When Sirae tried to pull her head away, the dragon grinned and shook his head no, then moved his massive clawed hands to the sides of Sirae’s skull, holding her beautiful face steady. The whimpering elf looked up at her abuser with glowing golden eyes, trying to plead with her gaze, but the dragon just chuckled and let the brutal anal rape slowly force his cock back into her wet mouth.
It was barely halfway in and already Sirae was gagging, the hard tip jabbing at the back of her throat and making her convulse. Her hands tugged at the bonds, wanting badly to strike against the dragon, but unable to fight back as the fierce dragon just kept sliding her face forward onto him like a machine. The head was pushing inside of her throat now, his otherwise rigid, steely pole bending very slightly to curve into the straightened gullet. The incredible girth of it forced the girl’s neck to bulge slightly, giving her a lump shaped like the dragon’s strange cocktip sliding down her throat. The ridges scraped at her esophagus painfully and the veins burned, making it feel as though she was swallowing a newly forged sword whole. The killer tried to breathe through her nose, but her airway was completely blocked by the chitinous cock. She was going to suffocate to death on the dragon’s dick and he did not seem to care in the slightest.
Just as her face was turning blue, the dragon reversed course, dragging his heavy, misshapen staff back out. The ridges scooped out Sirae’s spit as they popped back out of her mouth, spilling her drool all down her face and into her eyes, turning her face into a sticky, wet mess. Gooey strands of it tethering her lips and nose to various different bumps and ribs of the shaft. Sirae sucked in air through her nose once her throat was cleared, trying to cough and gasp, but she’d barely had time to suck in a single breath before the dragon was thrusting his hips forward again, cramming his penis back down her throat. The elven prisoner’s gagging, constricting throat only squeezed the dragon’s prick harder, sliding it down into her neck like it was a sleeve perfectly formed for his extraneous limb, coaxing even greater quantities of pre-seed from his cock and straight into Sirae’s turning stomach.
For Sirae, panic was beginning to overwhelm even the incredible pain her abusers were inflicting on her body. She was certain she’d die if she didn’t do something. Left with no other option, she did the only thing she felt like she could, and tried to bite down on the dragon’s monstrous malehood… And nearly broke her teeth on the iron rod. Sirae’s eyes widened in terror, while the dragon’s narrowed in mirth. The scales that covered his unforgiving cock were as strong as the plates of chitin that protected his body, and as hard as forged steel. The rough, scaly texture felt suddenly more pronounced in her mouth, like natural armor plating protecting his most tender, sensitive region. With Sirae’s teeth locked around his hardness, he just kept thrusting away as though she was blissfully unaware, driving the hard ridges into Sirae’s jaw. The ribbed edges of the armor slammed into the gagging sextoy’s mouth, clipping her teeth and nearly breaking them. The ringing pain forced Sirae to try and strain her mouth wider to avoid losing her incisors, while the dragon just moaned mockingly, briefly enjoying the way her clenched jaw had made a nice, tight barrier for him to press through.
The dragon’s warning had been accurate, if not in the way that the elf goddess had expected. If she tried to bite him, those hard ridges would tear out her teeth. With this new knowledge Sirae sobbed in her strict bondage, having nothing left she could do to defend herself.
The singular sobbing motion shook her body slightly, driving the pointed wedges deeper into her. The dragon raping her growled as her ass convulsed around his cock, and he blew a snort of smoke from his throat in pleasure.
Tilting her head further back to straighten her neck, the dragon gripped his victim’s skull tightly by either side. Growling with burning desire and lust he lunged forward, his pelvis pummeling his little cocksucker’s face. All Sirae could see through her blurry vision, watery from all the tears she refused to let fall, was the dragon’s crotch pistoning towards her. The inside of her throat felt like it was being scraped raw by the searingly hot prick, and her tongue burned with the draconic fluids singeing the inside of her mouth.
The dragon was sure that this little slut’s throat wasn’t nearly as good a hole as the tight asshole his companion was fucking, or as he was sure her cunt would be if he were allowed to use it. It wasn’t as warm or perfectly suited to milking his dick as her tighter holes… but nothing could beat the sight of this goddess’s ruby lips slurping on his pole, sliding up and down his shaft and unwillingly sucking his length clean. Forcing her to swallow the entire length, he ground his scaled nuts up against her upside down nose, giving short hard little humps to feel his sack slapping the smaller woman. Sirae’s warm spit quickly soaked into his scales, feeling pleasantly cool against his molten cock and making the dragon swoon with pleasure.
He face fucked the suffocating goddess for what felt like ages while a cock was continually stuffed ever deeper in her ass, cutting off her air and relishing the way she gagged and squeezed the draconian cock with her throat muscles. Sirae’s eyes rolled back up into her skull, and her face was a mixture of red and blue from oxygen deprivation. The sight of her suffering only aroused the dragon more. Sirae’s resisting tongue ground and rubbed itself against the thick shaft, pressing firmly against it near the base in an attempt to push it from her mouth and allow her to breath. The effort seemed to squeeze more pre-cum from the cock. The dragon’s tongue lolled from his mouth as the brutal treatment of Sirae’s face started to bear fruit for him.
Suddenly burning heat erupted in her asshole as the other dragon pushed himself into her as deeply as he could before spilling his seed into her, the liquid venomously stinging and hot. She unwilling thrashed in her bonds, bringing herself further agony against the spikes as she tried in vain to escape the boiling liquid being shot into her tender asshole.
The thrashing seemed to please the dragon in her throat as well. “Good girl,” The dragon rasped in his deep, growling voice, still firmly holding on to the red-head’s hair. “I do hope you’re hungry, little whore goddess…”
“Mmnf! Nnm, nmf mf mmmn!” Sirae’s tongue thrashed about, slapping at the dragons thick log as she tried to protest, but any sound she made was muffled by his stone-like member. The sounds sent vibrations coursing through the dragon’s ashen dick, and that was the final straw that pushed him over the edge.
“Take it, little whore goddess!” Tilting his head low and gnashing his serrated teeth, the dragon hammered his shaft down Sirae’s throat, making the elf goddess deepthroat every last pockmarked inch as his balls erupted, spewing his load straight down the girl’s gullet. His molten, volcanic semen fired off in thick, powerful jets, pumping it straight into her stomach without cooling. The sole saving grace for Sirae was that she didn’t have to taste any of it, though she could feel it filling her belly with its burning warmth.
The two dragons backed off her then, leaving the goddess to lie painfully on the bed of stone caltrops. Even the dull points had broken her skin at several points, driven into her soft flesh by the crushing weight of the scaled rapists. Blood leaked steadily from her back and torn asshole, pooling on the ground around the pyramids. The dragons watched with eager expectation as minutes passed and the visible wounds on the elf’s side and back started closing, healing far more rapidly than anything injury could naturally be repaired as the Goddess of Life’s body reflexively made itself whole once more.
“Shall we begin again?” one chuckled, looking down at the vulnerable bare beauty beneath them.
Sirae coughed once, then hardened her eyes. She glared at the two dragons the cold fire burning in her gold eyes almost made them flinch as she spat towards them. “I’m sure you’re going to. Do your worst.”
One recovered enough to snarl, his clawed fingers reaching down to grip the scaled cock between his legs. “We shall, little whore goddess. We shall, and then we shall see about your arrogance.”
“Petty?” Kardas said with a laugh, the flames falling away from her form and burning out as she stared at the dwarf. “Petty is living inside this ward every day of your life. Petty is spending your time among mortals and pretending to be one of them.” With a bitter laugh, Kardas turned away from the group. “Petty is what you’ve become, my friends. I’ll have no further part of this.”
Xiri’s form shifted and he was suddenly standing in front of Kardas as she began walking away. “We have not decided a course of action,” his haunting voice said.
Kardas spit in his face. The spittle flew through a hole in the god’s body that had suddenly appeared and fell to the ground harmlessly. “Of course we have,” she said. “We will never agree on a course, so we will watch, and wait,” Kardas chuckled during a pause, “and see what the mad human does next.”
She raised her voice. “I am finished here. Call me when you decide to kill the mortal and put someone competent in power.”
Kardas walked around Xiri, and he did not stop her as she moved towards the flowing mist of the veil. As she walked, however, her thoughts cast out through the world and found the woman she was looking for. ‘Do not fail me, my servant,’ she sent to Alissandra. ‘Destroy him.’
John Drake's Stories 
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