Third week of captivity, Caladwen, Spring
Elide had lost all sense of time. Her days were non-stop horror and rape, her body broken and beaten, used and abused by Lahk. Then, at night, she could not sleep. Always she was woken up by Lahk, sometimes to whip her or humiliate her some way, sometimes to rape her again. Always Lahk… the elf wasn’t sure when the last time she had seen another living being. Was it months ago, or years? How did he have the stamina to continue abusing her? He couldn’t be sleeping any more than she was, but she was always so weak and he was always so strong…
The drugs didn’t help her keep track of time. The elf couldn’t remember the last time she was clear headed… memories of being able to think without exhaustion and hallucinations interfering seemed distant. In her mind, she thought she could see people she had known standing over her, yelling at her. Hating her. They threw garbage at her. Maybe she was dreaming, or maybe the drug was clouding her sight.
Or maybe it was real. She deserved it, didn’t she?
Worse than the drugs was when Lahk withheld them, though. She had spent two days feeling freezing cold at every second, shuttering painfully as her body craved more of the powerful stimulant. By the end of the second day she was begging Lahk to give to her again… at the time she had thought it would be the most degrading thing she would ever have to do.
Time had proved her to be very wrong.
When she awoke the next time, there was food on the floor. Just slop, no doubt filled with ground Astaria, but she ate it. When she was first stuck into this cell she had refused to eat. Lahk had just smiled at her, then he had tied her up and stuffed a tube in her throat and poured the slop down it. It burned and humiliated her, and he did it for every meal for four days afterward. After the second day she would have gladly eaten her food, but the high priest hadn’t even given her the chance.
When on the fourth day he had entered with food and politely asked if she wanted to eat, she had frantically nodded.
It was less humiliating to give in than it was to suffer through another force feeding.
Uthielle. He called her Uthielle, the betrayer, but Elide knew that wasn’t who she was.
The door opened and the high priest entered the room. Elide was ashamed, but the noirette elf cringed back away from his, the furthest her chains would let her go. “Good morning, Uthielle,” he said as he closed the door behind him. He was already naked, though his cock hung limp. “I need to take a piss.”
Elide let out a tiny sob as she crawled towards him. Shame flushed her face, but she buried her defiance and took the high priest’s cock in her hand, pointing it towards the latrine in the corner. As he groaned and flooded the corner with urine, the elf shuddered, remembering the terrible price she’s paid to learn her obedience. Again, Lahk had simply made the cost of rebellion more humiliating than giving it — he had strapped a ring gag into her mouth, and then pissed onto her face and down her throat instead. It hadn’t taken the elf long to decide to choose the lesser of two degradations, even if it killed her to be doing what the high priest wanted.
“Good girl, Uthielle,” he said, and she shivered in hatred of the praise, her eyes burning with rage.
Then Lahk tightened the collar around her throat and started to bind her in a new position, and she knew that she was in for another long day.
Eight years ago, Caladwen
“So with the recent appropriations to Kalin and Teralil, they should be in your pocket.” Galdwan said.
“Good,” said Elide. “That provides me with a quorum, at least.”
The druid nodded. “Indeed, and that might even be enough for the moment. With Kilielle, Nessira, and Rakim always away on their ships, all you need to do is bring matters to a vote when they’re gone and most of your opposition vanishes with them.”
A smiled crossed the noirette elf’s lips. She had thought of this. “I also assigned Liriel in your place to the Viridian Dream,” Elide said. “That should keep the dumb bitch out of the way and stop her from doing something disruptive.”
Galdwen let out a low whistle. “Good choice,” the elder druid said. “Hopefully, her absence may help discredit Lissa by proxy.”
Elide’s dark eyes narrowed and she slammed her fist against the table. “Don’t even mention the name of that treasonous cunt,” the steward of Caladwen snarled. The warrior became completely aware, suddenly, of the weight on the sword on her hip and realized that she was mentally readying to draw if necessary. She steadily forced her anger at the Archdruid down.
“Serenity will still pitch a fit, you know,” Galdwen warned, speaking of the head of Sirae’s priesthood.
“Yes,” Elide agreed, “but not for any real objection. She just wants my job and everyone knows it.” The warrior sneered. “And she doesn’t have the kind of support I do.”
Elide continued the conversation with her druid ally, working out the logistics of her influence coup, but on the inside the steward had stopped listening.
Why couldn’t everyone understand that what she was doing was necessary? Caladwen needed a queen. Close to twenty years with a stewardship ruling the kingdom was destroying them, slowly but surely. They needed a leader to unite behind, a force to re-strengthen them to the level they had been before Sanguinar’s war and the death of their god queen.
And who better than Elide? She was the only one placed in stewardship over the kingdom. She was the only one the goddess had trusted to leader her armies. She was the ancient one, one of the eldest elves left in the city after the war. She was the one who could claim kinship to the ancient elf deity a mere seven generations back, a far closer relation than any other elf in the city she knew of.
But most importantly, she was the one with the will to rule.
Lissa had not understood that. She had thought Elide greedy for wanting the throne, had thought her arrogant. But was it truly arrogant if she was the only one for the job?
Damn her treacherous eyes for leaving, and for publicly renouncing any who would seek the throne. Couldn’t you see that we need a queen, Lissa? Or were you too concerned with your precious humans to notice?
Elide put the thoughts out of her mind. Lissa was gone now, and there was nothing the steward could do about her. She could not appoint a new Archdruid until they knew Lissa was dead, so there was nothing she could do to correct the mistake of supporting her for the position… but still, with her gone there was a power vacuum for who would be the de facto head of the druidic order. If Elide had her way, it would be Galdwen.
Returning her attention to the discussion, she began to see what schemes she could use to make it so.
Fifth Week of Captivity, Caladwen
Eventually, Lahk revealed another weapon in his constant assault on Elide’s dignity.
“Please stop,” the raven haired warrior begged, swallowing her pride. Again, giving in was less humiliating than the consequences for refusal. “I’m a slut,” the elf admitted. “I admit it… you don’t have to do this.”
“But I do, my dear Uthielle,” Lahk laughed. “We’re just warming up.” Over and over again the high priest drove his fingers into her cunt, now dripping wet. “Truth be told, we’re really just starting… I never said admitting that you like this was all there was to it.” Lahk smiled at her, grinding his thumb expertly across her clit as a third finger slid inside her. “You didn’t think the whole point of this was just to finger fuck you and have you admit that you’re a slut, did you?”
“But you said…”
“I said,” the dark priest interrupted, “that I would stop when you admitted who you are.”
She sobbed, fresh tears streaking down her aristocratic face and joining the sweat on her cheeks. “But I just did…” she whimpered. “I don’t understand what you want.”
In truth, the elf did know what he wanted, even if only generally. She suspected he wanted her completely degraded, a ripe whore for sexual exploitation… and it scared the hell out of the warrior that she wasn’t sure what she could do about it anymore. The sadism she saw in Lahk scared the heat from her blood… but at the same time, her body desperately craved release.
He was rapidly driving her towards another orgasm, at least the tenth today.
Or was it the twentieth?
She had struggled, she had screamed and cried and begged, but in the end the tightly bound steward had been able to do nothing to prevent him from tearing climax after climax from her abused body until it hurt… but Sirae help her, her body still wanted it. Her drug fogged mind increased the sensations tenfold until she could barely think… her need for release and her dignity were battling for control of her body, and as Lahk continued to masterfully fuck her with his fingers she felt her pride losing.
The battle was going to be over soon, she began to realize. If Lahk did not stop, if he continued fucking her with his fingers, she was going to lose control and cum soon. It terrified her that she could have so little control over her body, a body she had trained for centuries and worked to perfection. She tried to think of other things in a futile attempt to distract herself, but Lahk’s forceful motions consistently brought her back into her sadistic reality. Biting down on her lip she realized that she had no chance of preventing the inevitable. Unless Lahk stopped soon she’d cum, and she’d once again prove to Lahk that she was every bit the slut he claimed she was.
“Tell me, slut. Tell me and you can be done for the day.”
“No…” she moaned, her hips unwillingly chasing his fingers when he pulled them out of her before driving back in, making her leak more of the white cum he had pumped into her most recently.
“You’re going to cum, Uthielle,” Lahk laughed. “You’re going to cum for me again and again. That’s what stupid sluts like you do. And you are a stupid slut, aren’t you?”
She was so close now, no matter how hard she tried to fight it. “Yes,” she sobbed. “Yes, just… let me go… stop…”
“Tell me who you are first, you little whore!” he was using his other hand now to constantly work her clit, and she was panting and biting her lip in an effort not to scream. He was driving her down the path towards orgasm, and the warrior felt her resolve slipping away. She rationalized it by telling herself that he’d already made her cum so many times, that there was no more humiliation in it, that perhaps she’d be stronger once she had gotten it out of her system and could think again. She didn’t really believe that, but it didn’t matter. Realizing how futile it was to try to prevent the inevitable, her black hair shook as she let go and a powerful orgasm ripped through her body. Arching her back as high as she her bindings would permit, she began to moan loudly.
Lahk grinned widely as he watched her cum, enjoying her humiliation. As soon as the brief moment of orgasmic bliss had faded away her abused cunt was more sore than ever and she found herself being mentally dragged back down to earth, in pain… and still horny.
And then Lahk began again.
She wailed. She screamed and she hissed and she promised and begged and threatened, but in the end she came again. And again. And again until, in a whisper so quiet she could barely hear it, she said “Uthielle.”
Lahk stopped. “What was that?” the high priest said, his fingers still deep in her cunt but no longer moving, her poor abuse hole stretched sorely over the digits. “Louder,” he commanded.
“Uthielle,” she whispered again, but louder. “I’m Uthielle.”
She was taken back to her cell then, and this time there was food waiting for her. Real food… seasoned beef, just the way she preferred it. She was too well bound to eat normally, but Uthielle was used to eating without her hands by now. She thought the food was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.
Uthielle then curled up to sleep, knowing she would no doubt be woken soon.
11 years ago, Caladwen
Elide watched with uncertain emotions as the guards escorted the elf from his home. He was being held on charges of treason, of being in contact with a human trade confederation and helping them arrange to bypass Caladwen draconian trade restriction. The crime was serious as it was an attack of Caladwen isolation and secrecy… and it carried a proportionately heavy penalty. Once convicted, he could expect to suffer imprisonment for the rest of his life.
And elves lived forever.
He would be convicted, too. The guards had far too much evidence for it to be another way. They had the gold he had been paid by the men, letters from them and in his own hand discussing the conspiracy, and the testimony of the elvish sailors who had carried the secret messages.
Elide knew it wasn’t true, however — knew because she had arranged it. The letters had been faked over the last several years. The gold was ancient, sitting in the palatial treasure since before the war. The sailors had carried harmless letters that she herself had arranged to be delivered in his name. All of it arranged over years, all of it untraceable to any act she had taken.
As Raili was taken away, the noirette steward felt a stirring of guilt, but she mercilessly repressed it. The elven people needed a queen, and the accused elf was one of the most powerful supporters of Elide’s rivals. He needed to be silenced, or else more hardship would come upon the people she loved so dearly, and would do anything to protect.
Once she was seated upon her ancestor’s throne, she would pardon him, she resolved. Her conscience settled, Elide walked away from the balcony and the view of the elf being dragged away, preparing to plan her next move.
Seventh week of captivity, Caladwen
No one was unbreakable.
For two months now, every single day, Lahk had been asking her to suck his cock. Every single day Uthielle had always refused. And every single day, after she refused he had spent the rest of the day raping her ass. No longer up her cunt… from then on, until she woken from her fitful sleep to a new day full of torment, every single time the high priest became aroused that huge cock would go right up Uthielle’s tight, dry, sore, swollen, raw, unwilling asshole until it felt like I was on fire and being torn bleeding from her body.
And she just couldn’t do it again.
“Yes,” Uthielle.
Down on her hands and knees she slowly crawled towards him, her limbs so severely hobbled that it took her a full minute to cross the few feet between them. Lahk had her start by kissing him… not his cock but his mouth. In a way it was even more humiliating for Uthielle, for him to want to feel her mouth on his before her lips touched his cock. He was thinking about their warmth and softness, she was sure… feeling the texture of her tongue on his and imagining what it would feel like on his cock.
Eventually, Lahk pushed her to her knees. He wasn’t gentle, certainly… but he wasn’t rough either. Uthielle was more comfortable like that than in most of the positions he put her into. Her sore knees on the hard wood would not be as bad as the burns she got on her tits when his ass rape pushed her across the floor, or the raw feeling on her back when he slashed her with his whip. She expected Lahk to push himself into her mouth, to use her as roughly as he always did, but to her surprise he did not. He patiently waited while she slowly took his cock in hand, gently stroking it, using her thumb to tease the head of the high priests holy cock.
It didn’t even occur to Uthielle to try to hurt him. She couldn’t remember exactly when, but she had stopped looking for opportunities to attack the priest, stopped dreaming of killing him with her own hands. When she looked rebelliously around now, it was only to dream to escape — of flight from this horrible place.
“Now,” Lahk commanded, his voice even, and Uthielle shuddered. She leaned forward to lick just the tip, her eyes on his face, looking for any sign of anger that would be a sure signal of pain to follow. Her elven hands reached to caress his balls slightly, holding them as she gently licked his prick. It was humiliating, but it didn’t taste as badly as she feared… no worse than the slop she ate every day. His cock appreciatively twitched with every movement, hardening more with each lick, and Uthielle tried not to vomit. Still, this was better than it going up her ass again.
“Now,” Lahk commanded again and she reluctantly opened her mouth, wrapping her lips around the thick shaft and shuddering as the taste of precum hit her. Uthielle had never sucked a cock before — she had no idea what to do. “Suck,” Lahk intructed, and weeping softly the elf swirled her tongue around as she forced the air from her mouth, putting just a little pressure from behind her lips. Lahk smiled down at her and the noirette closed her dark eyes in shame, tear flowing even more freely. For a while she sucked just on the end, but the feeling of this fierce warrior elf submissively pleasing his cock was too much for the high priest. He wanted more.
Gently, slowly, but firmly, his strong hand rested on the back on her head, tangling in her dark, tangled hair as he pushed her forward. So slowly, but with no hope of escape, he slowly pressed her further down on his cock, her eyes opened wide and filled with terror. “Keep sucking,” he ordered, and the crying elf had no choice but to obey, her head now plunged deep down on his cock.
Uthielle hated the feeling of the high priest’s hands on her head. They were doing nothing but resting in her hair, stroking it and occasionally pulling at it lightly, but the threat of violence implied by their presence intimidated her. Slowly, unwillingly but too afraid to protest, her head bobbed up and down on his cock, putting it in and out of her mouth as she sucked slightly harder. At this point her crying was unbelievable — she was bawling like a child, her wet tears lubricating her lips as she raped her own face in slow motion, her jaw growing tired as she sucked his cock like a cheap whore with a sailor.
When he abruptly pulled out of her mouth, Uthielle didn’t know what to think… but when he rested his cock in front of her face and told her to stroke it she understood. Sobbing openly, her mouth now free, she ran her hand up and down his cock until it jerked, spraying her face with line after line of white stringy cum as she stared up at the high priest’s face, awaiting his next instruction, awaiting judgment.
“Not bad,” he said, staring down at the cum covered cunt below him. “You’ll learn to be better.” Then he removed his hands from her hair, still gentle. “Good girl.”
Uthielle hated herself for the tiny thrill of pride that ran through her.
For the rest of the day Lahk raped her, hurt her, and humiliated her… but he never touched her ass, and despite herself the elf couldn’t help but feel grateful.
Ten years ago, Caladwen
“What do you think you’re doing, Lissa?”
The red haired druid stopped abruptly, frozen on the path that to the unused mountain pass out of the crater… the path even the other citizens of Caladwen did not know about. For their own safely, no one could be allowed to believe that Caladwen was not the island they thought it was. Only a precious few knew the truth — the two women among them. Lissa said nothing, not even turning, but her mere presence betrayed her. There was nothing past this point — nothing but a pass through the mountains and a road into the human lands of Silas.
There was no reason to come here but to leave, and leave without letting anyone know. Without letting Elide know.
“Why!” Elide said, her tone harsh. The word was more of an accusation than it was a question, and both of the elves knew it.
Slowly Lissa turned, her eyes meeting those of the steward. The moonlight made her blue eyes black, but the golden flecks shined brightly. The pin on her cloak, the one that proclaimed her the Archdruid of Caladwen, was missing.
“Because,” the young druid said, the black swirls of her tattoos even more apparent than usual with the moonlight washing out her pale skin. “Because I know what you’re doing, Elide. And I won’t be a part of it.”
She sneered at the naive fool. “You would rather be a party to the destruction of our civilization than help me become queen?”
Lissa’s eyes flashed as they narrowed. “You are the one destroying Caladwen, you fool!”
This time Elide was the one to narrow her eyes, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. Lissa’s hand did the same. “Nonsense. I am trying to preserve the line of succession. I am the closest relative…”
Lissa sighed, her eyes closing. “Don’t you see? That is the foolishness. ‘All elves are equal before the goddess.’ It’s on our crest, our flag, our coin… and yet you are so eager to place yourself above them. There is no ‘line of succession,’ Elide, and there never was.”
Elide pointed her finger at the druid accusingly. “Says the Archdruid of the city, she who rules first among the druids.”
The druid’s eyes flashed again, real fury in them this time. A tiny spark of lightning quickly crossed her pupils. “I serve in that role to protect the people.”
“As do I…”
“You do not protect them, you betray them!” Lissa shouted, the words echoing from the walls of the pass. She reached into her pack and threw a scroll of parchment at Elide’s feet.
The steward looked at it and her blood chilled. It was a draft of one of the letters that had framed Raili, the one she had composed. The one in her hand. “This proves nothing.”
Lissa nodded. “You’re right. It proves nothing. No one can show you wrote it. Your political enemies will accuse you of having used it without ever really believing it, and your followers will blindly ignore its existence. It proves absolutely nothing.”
“Except to me,” Lissa sneered. “It tells me everything I need to know.”
The two elves stood staring at each other for long minutes until Lissa spoke again. “I left a message with several people saying that I was leaving, and that it was because of the contest for the throne. I remind everyone, firmly, that we have a duty to the kingdom and the goddess both, and we do not serve one,” she finished, “by neglecting the other.”
The druid turned to leave and Elide’s temper erupted. “Don’t you dare turn your back on me, Archdruid!”
Lissa did not face the woman. “I have made my decision Elide. I will not help you in this madness.”
A snarl bubbled from her throat, the feral snarl giving lie to the ornate garb the steward of Caladwen wore. “You would turn your back on your people?”
“As always, I serve Caladwen and the goddess,” she responded, still refusing to look. “In this case, by leaving.”
“You are a coward!” Elide shouted at her.
“No,” she whispered. “I have wisdom you refuse to heed.”
“You are the Archdruid no longer than!” she yelled, infuriated. Certainly there must be some way to strip this foolish elf of the title and appoint someone more reasonable…
Ninth week of captivity, Caladwen
Uthielle was in stocks, her ankles pulled up at face height and cuffed to a post, tightly enough to force the leg horizontal, and her wrists cuffed half a foot above. Since her backside was off the floor by a foot or more, all her weight hung on her sore wrists and ankles, forcing her to stretch her arms and bend her knees for the slightest scraps of relief. Lahk as always, was with her, standing to his side with a cruel smile on her face. Uthielle had begun to doubt that there had ever been a time without Lahk with her… he was there every time she was awake, and in what felt like years of torture she had never seen another soul.
Her whole body throbbed in pain, and fear gripped her mind as Lahk opened a box and pulled from it a thin, clear cord. Uthielle had no idea what he was planning to do with the tool, but she had absolutely no doubt that it would be used to make her suffer. The high priest started tying it around her left thumb. The cord went through a small bronze handle, whose function Lahk soon revealed as he twisted it between thumb and forefinger to tighten the cord… at which point Uthielle discovered that the cord had evenly spaced knots that dug painfully in the flesh. The pain was mild at first, hardly comparable to the whip, but as circulation was constricted for longer she started to moan. Then Lahk tightened it again until she hissed, and then dragged the cord forcefully around the full circumference of her thumb, letting it slide in the furrow dug as it tightened into the flesh and drawing a shriek of pain from her sore throat.
The high priest reached into the box and produced another cord, and repeated the procedure on her left forefinger. She was gasping with pain, and she cried in anguish as he started placing a third cord on her middle finger. He had not bothered to remove the others, so even when he did not exert force, pain wracked her fingers as the knots bit relentlessly her flesh.
Lahk talked as he worked, blissfully ignoring her cries of pain. “I keep trying to be nice to you. I take you in when your own people threw you out, and I offer you help and acceptance, but instead you insist on defying me, and I have to punish you.” For the life of her, Uthielle could not recall what she was being punished for, but she must have done something. No one would cause pain like this without a reason, so she must have deserved it for… something.
The elf tried her best to stay quiet, but moans kept escaping her as he continued. Driven onward by her silence, Lahk finished with her left pinky before moving to her right hand, and after a brief respite her suffering began again.
“It’s not a surprise your people betrayed you, you know. After all, you betrayed them many times first.”
Time passed, with the pain in her constricted fingers increasing instead of subsiding, but when at last Lahk was finished with her right hand, he turned to her left and twisted her thumb cord backwards to loosen the chord. Uthielle could not stop herself from screaming as the blood found its way again in the now darkened flesh. As before, he did the same to each finger in turn, but at the pinky he stopped and stared into her expecting eyes before smiling cruelly. Then he reached for the thumb cord and tightened it again, wrenching a shrill scream from her hoarse throat which rose into a screech as he pulled on it yet again.
“You stepped on your friends and your enemies alike, hurting the people that it was your responsibility as Steward to protect.”
After repeating this procedure a few times, he finally did free her fingers, and then took the cords with him and he grabbed her left foot. Horrified, she tried to pull and twist her leg to escape his hand, but to no avail. She could not hold a screech at his first pull, nor at each subsequent pull, as if the toes were more susceptible to this torture. Her tormentor, on the other hand, proceeded to alternate between left and right foot, as if to let the other recover and feel the full pain of each new torture.
“Who would do that, Uthielle? Who would betray the people who relied on her?”
Once more he tightened each cord around the respective toe, but this time he took care to align all handles just the same, and then tied each to a cord looped around the toe and affixed to a single hand sized handle, which he grabbed. As fear silenced Uthielle’s anguished sobbing, he pulled on the handle, causing all cords at the same time to slide almost full circle in the furrow dug around the base of each toe, the knots dragging over the constricted flesh. Tiny droplets of blood spilled on the floor, dripping from microscopic friction cuts in the skin. Uthielle wailed yet again as pain rose from her foot through her writhing body.
“Answer me or it will get worse!” Lahk roared, and the elf sobbed.
“A monster!” she shrieked. “Only a monster would do that.”
“That’s right…” Lahk said slowly, running his hand up her leg. The touch felt comforting next to the abysmal pain. “You are a monster… and what happens to monsters?”
Uthielle sobbed. She cried and begged, and she shook her dark mane no, but in the end, once Lahk waited patiently for her neck to tire and for her head to droop, she answered him. “They get punished.”
“That’s right,” Lahk said as he did the same on her right foot, and then moved to the left again, reversing the sense of rotation to grind into already damaged tissue. Uthielle screamed at each pull, shaking in pain under the thin man’s attentions, her suffering body bending and twisting in pain, her glistening breasts heaving and panting and her raven dark hair shaking.
“But then, you’re a race of monsters, aren’t you?” Lahk said as he ran his fingers over the darkening digits beneath the chord, the slight touch agonizing to the inflamed flesh. “You’ve killed thousands with your own hands, and many more with your orders, but only because that was what you were expected to do. Expected to do like any other elf would in your place.”
After yet another pull Lahk started freeing her toes from the dreadful cord, and subsequently freed her from the stocks. She lay on the floor for a moment of respite, bringing her fingers to her mouth as if to ease the pain. Lahk grabbed her hair and dragged her roughly to a plain heavy bench, to which she was chained face up, arms over her head, her fabulous body taut and gleaming and exposed.
With practiced swiftness, the high priest looped a thick hemp rope around her slender waist, constricting it and pushing the knots along its length into her wounded flesh, drawing a hiss from behind her lips which turned into a moan as he started to tighten the rope twisting its handle. Another two coils of rope were similarly wrapped around her ribcage, one just above and one just below her sculpted breasts, bruised and battered from mouths of constant abuse but still proud and firm.
“Any elf would do that in your place, wouldn’t they?
“Yes…” Uthielle nearly screamed, accepting the offered vindication of her actions. “Yes, anyone would have done what I did.”
“And that would make them…?”
Uthielle didn’t even think but rather just answered, saying what she knew he wanted to hear, just to make the pain stop. “Monsters,” she whispered.
“Louder!” Lahk roared as he started looping another piece of rope around her leg.
“Monsters!” she yelled. “It makes us monsters!”
More rope was looped and tightened around her legs, thighs and arms, digging in her limbs as the high priest looped it across the coil in order to tighten it fully before twisting the handles and sending the knots into her. The ropes around her ribcage and waist constricted her breathing, lending to her stifled cries a tone of anguish as she gasped for air.
“You are a servant of Sirae, Uthielle, are you not?”
The elf warrior was taken aback by the question, but she quickly agreed. “Yes…”
After more tightening Lahk rose and grabbed the handle of the rope clinching her waist. He then put a boot in her stomach and pulled with all his strength, dragging the rough rope three quarters of a circle around her waist and digging an agonizing trail of chafed skin in her once perfect midsection. If the tight rope had not robbed her of the ability to breathe except shallowly, she would have screamed. Instead, she could do nothing but choke as pain deluged her, her eyes glossing over as she attempted to escape into her own head.
Lahk saw and was not about to allow that to happen. He slapped her, bringing her eyes back into focus. “No escape for you, stupid monster-slut. No bright red bird to sing to you here, no waterfall, no sunlight.”
Uthielle froze on the inside. How had he… that was a dream, wasn’t it? Hadn’t that been a dream last night, the first time she’d felt comforted in weeks?
Lahk laughed at the hopeless look on her face. “Haven’t you been listening, little monster-cunt? You have no safety from me, no privacy. I know everything about you.” He smiled, leaning down to put his lips against her ear. “I am god here.”
Her only respite soon became the time it took the wry high priest to circle around the bench as he alternated the left and right side, and the ropes started growing red with the tiny trickles of blood that leaked from the friction burns. Her body attempted to escape the pain… but it was no use. Seared by the ropes constricting her arms and legs and stabbed by knots digging in her flesh, her muscles contracted and flexed in vain, and she could not stop herself as the aching limbs began to burn with pain of her own making.
“Would a goddess tolerate monsters as her servants?” Lahk asked.
Devious as the torture was, Lahk intended to take it further. He reached back into the box and pulled out two new loops of knotted silken cords and tied them around her nipples. Her heart sank as she fought for breath, envisioning yet another assault on her femininity. The cords were tied to a chain, distorting her firm breasts into cones of taut flesh which he then proceeded to bind with a single knotted cord drawn behind her neck, reaching to her left breast, and circling it in a counterclockwise spiral, down to her muscular chest where it was snug under her bondage, while the other extremity was similarly wrapped around her right breast.
Lahk paused there, looking at the elf in the face. “Answer me…” he said, his voice low and threating. His hand rested on the handle attached to the cord.“
“No!” she shouted, and it occurred to her immediately after speaking that she wasn’t sure if she had been protesting or answering.
But Lahk apparently agreed with her answer, and she was relieved. He nodded his head slowly, looking down at her with a smile on his face. “And what does that mean?”
“That…” she paused uncertainly, trembling. “That I’m not a monster?”
The high priest pulled viciously on the left handle of the cord, savagely tightening the spiral around her left tit. The knots dug tiny gashes as they chafed skin, and Uthielle screamed under the assault on her bruised flesh. He made a short pause before letting go.
“Wrong,” he said, placing a boot on her muscular chest and pulling again, wrenching another strangled scream from the elf whore before circling the bench to grip the other handle. “You are a monster. You’re not too stupid to remember that, are you?”
She shook her head, eyes desperately staring at his hand on the handle. “I’m a monster,” she agreed enthusiastically, and when Lahk did not immediately pull she dared to hope that it was the answer he wanted.
But the high priest was not finished. “So what else could it mean?” he said. Uthielle had no answer, so he pulled with a similar result to her right breast. “Better come up with something slut, or you won’t have tits left soon.”
“That… that I’m not a servant of Sirae after all?” she answered, hopeful that she was right, that Lahk would be pleased, but he pulled again, tearing a new scream from the elf woman before grabbing the other handle as well. After a number of pulls, he paused to add more cords to her bondage, in order to prevent the ropes from dislodging as he pulled repeatedly at them, and pulled up her bound nipples some more, to make the spirals wrap around her breasts just right before the next of many round of pulls and cries which were to follow.
“Wrong again Uthielle,” he said as he tied new ropes to the struggling elf warrior. The thin, bristling rope had knots that looked like lumps of coarse hair. “You do follow the slut Sirae. Try again.”
“I don’t know!” she cried, tears running down her perfect, elite face, cringing at the agony that was soon to follow.
“Yes you do, whore,” Lahk said as he proceeded to wrap that cord around the base of each breast, and then coiled more ropes across her chest, flattening her tits onto her sculpted ribs. “There is only one thing left it could mean.” He twisted the handles at the end of each rope, provoking new screams. “You’re a stupid slut, but you aren’t that stupid.” He tightened the ropes at the base of her globes, making them bulge, and then the one flattening them against her chest, basking in her anguished wails and strangled gasps.
Uthielle’s pain no longer found respite when her tormentor had to move to a new handle to further tighten, as her newly enforced position made her to lift her constricted chest to breathe, and even that light movement forced her to thrash in her bonds, chafing her pain wracked orbs against the knots biting her flesh. Lahk smiled and produced more ropes, which he bound around her waist and at the base of each thigh, and then another bristling cord which he wound over her shoulders, under her breast bondage in spite of her cries, and then through her crotch, soon followed by a similarly arranged rope, the two squeezing her poor love button outwards as they sunk savagely into her swollen cunt. As he prepared to pull and tighten the rope, she screamed out in a pained voice.
“Sirae is not a goddess!”
Lahk smiled at her, the face showing genuine happiness. “Good girl, Uthielle,” he said, stroking her hair while she lay in the uncomfortable bondage that, while painful, was at least not getting any worse. “As a reward, I’m going to tell you something.”
His expression was almost kind, but Uthielle could see something ugly lurking beneath it. “It is your fault Caladwen fell. Your failure.” He paused, waiting for the words to sink in. “Your actions banished your own city’s Archdruid… and delivered her to my tender care.”
It took several seconds for her pain addled, drugged brain to follow… but then she understood. “Lissa…” she whispered. “What did you do to her…”
He smiled. “Everything I’ve done to you and worse. I’ve gone easy on you so far. She didn’t tell me how to find Caladwen until after I’d had her for most of a year.” Technically it was a lie — Athuum had actually never told him anything in interrogation about Caladwen at all — but that detail didn’t need to be told to the whore in front of him.
Uthielle began sobbing in earnest, huge salty tears running down her cheeks as the impact of Lahk’s words hit her. “Now suck my cock, and I’ll stop hurting you,” he demanded with a sneer.
Sobbing, the raven haired elf opened her mouth.
Later, in her cell, Ulthielle was still sobbing. It wasn’t her torment that made here weep, or even what she had said.
It was that she had meant every word.
5 years ago, Caladwen
Elide would never be queen.
That whore Lissa had done her job too well. She had inspired the elves of Caladwen to remember the principles the goddess had originally set down for them. That was essentially the end of political intrigue around the throne right there — no elf was willing to tolerate one of their equals rising above them, not by dishonest means.
Not any longer.
When Elide was being honest with herself, what Lissa had done had accomplished everything she had wanted for Caladwen. The people were united again, and had a sense of purpose. The nation was slowly growing strong again…
And it was doing it completely without her being queen.
She hated the venomous bitch for that.
Lahk rested upon his bed, and while the high priest was utterly exhausted, he was smiling.
It was working.
The plan was actually working. Having Helios observe the cunt’s dreams had been a master stroke. The look in her eyes when he told her… she was devastated.
Lahk’s mission wasn’t about turning her into a good, obedient sex slave. That was easy. To do that, all he had to do was beat her and rape her over and over for months, and give her opportunities to avoid being beaten through obedience… but make it perfectly clear that no matter what she did, the rapes would never stop. He had done that to hundreds of women now serving in his brothels… and it was reasonably easy. Very, very few women had it in them to resist being molded by it… although he’d known an elf who had managed it before.
This was different. He wasn’t trying to create a whore this time.
He was trying to create a worshiper.
Uthielle was tough. She was hard as a diamond, strong and unyielding and sharp edges… but like a diamond she was also brittle.
Strike a diamond from the right angle, and it would shatter. The very hardness that made it strong made it vulnerable.
Athuum had been iron… strong, but able to yield. Even though she had been turned tame and harmless relatively quickly, months and months after he had thought her completely broken she had still managed to retain enough of her original shape to find an opportunity for escape and take it. With Uthielle…
Lahk was sure there would be no coming back.
John Drake's Stories 
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