Last Edited – 4/29/19
Ten Years After the Fall of Ariadna
Nights in Alasta were black as a priest’s heart – the oil lamps saw to that. They didn’t burn golden or blue like the lamps in other cities – they used oil that they gathered from the mountains to the north, the same mountains the city mined for its wealth. The oil burned a deep crimson – bright enough to see by, dim enough to create deep, dark shadows. It was the perfect environment for a thief to move around in – or an assassin.
All but invisible in a shifting shadow, the girl moved like living shadow through the night, raising herself hand over hand toward the roof of the home she was climbing up – not a temple or a garrison, like so many that she had scaled in the past, but a rich man’s home, a merchant or a politician that had had their house stolen by the priest of Karn. The church was getting bold here in the North – the scourge of their influence spreading from Tabharos like the body of fat, rotting snake, crushing all that was decent beneath its bloated weight. They were spreading their power again – that was, after all, why she was here.
Her belt had fourteen notches cut into it – one for each of the fourteen holy symbols of Karn she kept in her meager sack of belongings she had hidden in the alley across town. One for each priest of Karn who’s throat she had cut. Most had been sleeping when she had murdered them – she wasn’t too proud for that. Karn had power, and only a fool would deny that. Awake and prepared, a priest could call on a truly stagging level of strength and power. As much as she would like them to look into her face as they died, see the face so like that of her Mothers – the mother they had taken away from her – it didn’t truly matter. Not as long as they died.
It was a large house, standing four stories above the street – and it was heavily guarded. The priests in the North guarded their power and property jealously, and this priest was just like the rest in that he had a retinue of mercenary soldiers surrounding him – but guarded heavily did not mean guarded well. Like most houses of the wealthy, the main entrance faced the street. In order to reach that entrance, she would have needed to pass through a guarded gate, or go over a well-lit and well-watched wall, before needing to cross an open courtyard before she could reach the house. Instead, she had come from the river. There was a heavy beam jutting from the roof out over the river – normally used to attach a pulley that would be used to lift the merchant’s heavy wares off of barges and up into the house, rather than trying to carry them through the roads or up the stairs or through the gateways. For someone with her talents, it was as good as a ladder. She had tossed a weighted line to loop a rope over that beam, then used it to climb from the shadows at the river’s side.
They called her the Weeping Siren. Priests mocked the name, and guards laughed about it over drinks – but no one said it too loudly when the sun was down. The name, probably meant to be overly dramatic and mocking, contained a grain of their true fears, after all – they called her a Siren. One of the immortal servants of Ariadna. With their words, they admitted that she was beyond them, not a mere mortal who’s intent they could escape, but a holy messenger of the Goddess. She would take that, even as she took the lives of the priests who had cost her everything.
Siren’s efforts finally brought her level with the top floor window. Although she had just climbed nearly fifty feet straight up, she wasn’t even breathing hard – the assassin’s slender body concealed a deceptively athletic build, and she had made her entry just like this many times before. As a rule, she had found that priests were cowards and liked hiding behind high walls. She pulled herself onto the roof, walking across the slanted tiles carefully – falling would be bad, but dislodging a tile and sending it crashing to the ground wouldn’t be much better. Up here, there was no light at all – even the moon was dark in the sky, covered by clouds, and the red light from below didn’t reach her perch.
Digging into her clothing, she pulled out a tiny, silver amulet – the most valuable thing she owned, and the single piece of jewelry she would ever bother with. The holy symbol of Ariadna was the single possession she treasured most. It had belonged to her father, once – before he had been killed during the siege of Ariadna’s temple during the fall. She had taken it off his body before her mother had dragged her away, and no matter how many times she cleaned it Siren could swear she could find spots of soot from where it had burned. She kissed it once, praying for luck like she did before every hunt, and then tucked it back into her shirt.
As she had expected, the house’s top window was open to allow some cool air into the house. Silently, Siren slipped through the opening, into the servant’s quarters. There were five beds in the room, four of them occupied, the soft sound of sleeping breathing stirring the still night. She crept forward slowly. Even if one of them did awaken, it was unlikely they would see her in the dark. Her black outfit blended with the darkness and even her face was covered except for a small opening for her eyes – Siren was like a shadow in the dark.
She stole across the room, one careful step at a time, leaving them alone. She wasn’t here to kill servants. Most of them were probably slaves, or indentured servants which amounted to almost the same thing. Any priestess this man kept wouldn’t be here, so she ignored them – it was safe to assume the cruel priest had worked them to the point of exhaustion, and they would probably sleep through just about anything short of a brawl. Still, she was careful, moving on the balls of her feet, transferring her weight slowly and being prepared to freeze or back off at an instant’s notice. No matter how close to invisible she was here, it wouldn’t do to step on a cheaply made board, creak, and wake a servant.
When she reached the door, she stopped. A less competent intruder would have risked opening it, but not Siren. Using just touch, she located the doors hinges and using the tiny bottle of oil from one of her pouches she silenced them, making sure they wouldn’t make a sound as the door was opened. Only then did she try the latch, slipping it up just barely enough for her slim body to squeeze through.
She was now in a dark upper hallway, and she couldn’t see a thing – no candles were burning, no lamps were left lit for the servants – a priest of Karn wouldn’t spare any coins for their comfort. Still, Siren felt confident. There would be other rooms up and down the hallway – other servants quarters. Nothing for here would be up here. Instead, she found the side of the hallway that was just slightly less dark and kept forward it, so slowly that it was almost like she wasn’t moving at all – her hand following the curve of the runner beneath her feet and trusting it wouldn’t lead her into anything. At the end of the hall, as she had expected, there was a staircase descending to the next level – and while it was dim below, it was light enough for her wide green eyes to see.
Testing every step before committing her full weight, she worked her way down to the next floor and then past it, to the one below that. The third floor was still too small – the rooms would be tiny. Those would be guest quarters, offices, and the quarters of favored servants and guards. The second floor – that was where she wanted to be. The room here would be the largest ones. In normal times, the merchant and his children would live here. Now it would house the new Master of this stolen house.
Rathek had come to this city to oppose a priest of Uuram, the God of the Forge. In the wake of the discovery of the mountain’s riches, the church of Uuram had gained tremendous power – and Uuram had been a longstanding ally of Ariadna in the old days. While he didn’t preach in favor of the Goddess of Fortune, he did use his influence to oppose Karn’s church and its expansion. Siren had heard him speak to his congregations – he was a charismatic and warm speaker, and his words carried inspiration with them. And so Jaras had sent Rathek and his followers.
Most of Karn’s priests Siren likened to snakes – cowardly and vicious predators, slithering low to the ground, striking at weakness. Rathek was a tiger. His words were a firestorm, and he had a penchant for being able to whip up emotion in any crowd. Riots a dozen cities could be laid at his feet, as could the stochastic murders of a half a dozen rival priests of other orders. He inflamed the passions of anyone he preached to, sent them into fits of religious ecstasy, and away from their better instincts. He and his sub-priests were some of the Church’s best recruiters, and when they went, the church swelled.
But this time, he and his three followers had been sent to a city nearby her. She had just claimed the life of a petty monster a bare two cities away when she had heard Rathek was being sent here. Alasta would be the final city he preached in.
A faint glow directed her towards where a light had been left burning, no doubt to aid the servants if Rathek ordered them to serve him during the night. The lamp burned crimson and faint, but still, she snuffed it out as she passed, casting the hallway into greater darkness – she did not need the light so much as she needed to go unseen. Siren turned the corner of the stairs and found herself in a wide hallway lined with doorways spaced far enough apart to allow for large rooms.
She had no idea which of the rooms was the master bedroom, but that was where he would be. With nothing more than a general guess to guide her, she crept to the end of the hall and tried the door there. It was locked, which she took to be a good sign – people rarely locked empty bedrooms. Her lock picking skills, honed over the years as she stole to feed her mother and then to hunt down the basters who had stolen her parents from her, were more than up to the task. The hinges, unfortunately, were on the inside of the door and she couldn’t lubricate them first, so she eased the door open as slowly as possible. It opened with a sound, and she smiled slightly as the vanity of priests. If he had chosen a poorer man’s house to steal, the door wouldn’t have been so well maintained, and some noise might have warned him.
Unfortunately, inside she found that the room was dark and the bed empty. Shaking her head, she slipped the door closed and crept to the next one. This door, too, was locked, but it too was easily opened. However, as she slipped the door open, her eyes widened. First of all the room was dark, but not like the first one had been. A faint glow from a low, red lantern lit the room brightly enough to keep it visible, but dimly enough that no light made it beneath the door. There were two people in the room. The first was a woman – a miserable looking slave, tears glinting on her cheeks as she softly wept. The woman was young, probably only five or so years older than Siren herself, and beautiful. The collar around her neck led her to believe she was a priestess.
The man, a priest, stood over her, vigorously plowing her – but facing the door. She saw the glint as his eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to scream. “Assassi-”
That was as far as he got before Siren pulled a dagger from her belt and hurled it at him. It wasn’t her favorite method to kill a man, but she had practiced enough to be good at it, and the knife impaled itself into the center of his chest, making him cough up a gout of blood with a gagging noise. Still, aborted as it was, his angry bellow followed her as she turned and fled, filling the hall. Damn Karn and his foul luck – it hadn’t been Rathek in that room but one of his apprentices. She wasn’t going to add Rathek to her belt notches tonight – instead, she would have to flee for her life.
She headed back the way she had come but was halfway up the stairs when the sound of heavy feet above her warned that there was no escape that way. She had made her fame killing the unarmed, the unprepared – she had no illusions about her chance fighting off a group of armed men, each of which was perhaps twice her weight, no matter how much she had prepared for this. Reversing her flight, Siren dashed down the stairway and back into the large corridor just in time to see several doors open and a number of what were clearly armed retainers step into the hall. That left only one way out, and that was the lower floor. She spun on her heel and raced toward the staircase, hoping that the no one would be coming the other way.
The staircase down to the lower floor was far more elaborate than those leading to the upper floors…. It curved in a gentle loop down to circle a large foyer some six or seven yards below. It was also disappointingly crowded with several armed soldiers. Damn you Karn – had she walked into a trap? Had they known Rathek would be too close, too tempting, for her to be able to resist killing? It was possible – the Weeping Siren had been growing quite infamous among the priests, and there were an awful lot of armed men awake and ready, even for a paranoid priest of Karn. She supposed it hardly mattered now, not when she was trapped between a group of guards coming down the hallway at her and those waiting in the foyer.
There was only one way out. Siren launching herself over the rail of the staircase, into a bone-breaking drop to the floor. If she landed even slightly wrong, she’d break her ankle or her leg or her hip, and she would be finished – but instead, she landed on perfectly angled feet, transferring her fall into a roll that left her up and running towards a large door as cries of anger came from all around her.
“Don’t let her get away!” one louder voice – Rathek – bellowed through the halls above her, louder than the other voices. He had been up and ready. They had been waiting for her. She cursed her arrogance in coming her without more preparation – she had been certain she hadn’t needed it. Arrogant, arrogant – you idiot – She heaved open the door before her, and thanked Ariadna for her luck that it was unlocked. She found herself in a dining room, unguarded but with only one way out, the door on the far end of the room. Siren didn’t hesitate – she ran, quick as she could.
She reached the door and pushed it open – and had a guard baton promptly smashed into her face. Siren stumbled, tripped, and went down, tumbling as her abruptly stop couldn’t keep up with the speed she had been moving. Her stomach slammed into a chair as she went down, and she felt the breath being knocked out of her in a rush. She lay on the carpet, gasping for air as struggled with uncoordinated limbs to get back to her feet, to keep running – The kick caught her in her stomach as she tried to rise, sending Siren back to the floor. She reached for a second knife, flailed out with it twice, felt it connect and the guard curse – but it was a minor cut as she knew it. He grabbed her arm next, banging it against the chair she had tripped over twice until the knife tumbled from her limp fingers – and then the guards from behind her caught up.
“Got her,” the guard who had captured her said as several of them pounced on her, pinning her down, leaving her screaming fruitlessly as she struggled to get her arms and legs free. “I got the bitch.”
“Good job Fen,” one said as he gasped back in air, the run clearly having winded him short though it was. Siren was pulled to her feet, held from both sides, her arms tightly gripped. “The Weeping Siren – doesn’t look like a Siren to me – no wings. Looks like just a woman to me. He jerked off the mask covering her face and grinning. Even with the bruise quickly blooming across the right side of her face, she was gorgeous, and without the mask some of her flame-red hair spilled out. “More like a girl than a woman – but that’s fine with me. I prefer them young and tight.”
She said nothing. She might be caught, but she wasn’t yet defeated. She felt like she might have a cracked rib, her shoulders arched, and her head was spinning, but at least she was being given time to catch her breath and let her head recenter. She might not be as fast with a broken rib as she liked, but she could still run. Her daggers had been taken from her, the knives hidden in her boots hadn’t been found yet. They weren’t the sword of weapon she would have chosen against large men with swords and batons, even if she wasn’t outnumbered so badly, but it was a surprise she had in store for them – so she waited, breathed, and looked for an opportunity.
“How about it, girl?” her talkative guard said. “You the assassin everyone has their panties in a twist over? The so-called ‘Weeping Angel?’ ”
“Looks like she’s too scared to talk, Vyr,” another of the men said with a chuckle.
“Oh, she’ll talk all right,” Vyr leered. “When she’s done screaming. Rathek is going to question her himself – and I expect this whore will tell him everything before too long.”
They began to drag her back the way she had come. Siren continued her faked passivity, allowing her body to sag and pretending that she could not walk without help after the beating she’d received. The guards seemed taken in, supporting her weight and dragging her towards the staircase – if they let her get her up there, she was probably as good as dead.
Siren allowed it to happen until they reached the main staircase – just a few body lengths away from the front door. She wouldn’t get a better chance than this. She let her body go completely limp, forcing the guards holding her to stagger to support the sudden weight. The sag allowed her hands to reach the tops of her boots. In an instant, she held a knife in both hands, and she struck out at the guards that held her, driving them into the thighs of each soldier.
“Fucking bitch!” one of the two yelled as he and his companion flinched, loosening their grips on her, enabling her to break one arm free. She used that hand to slash the dagger across the throat of the guard who had held on, and she spoke into a run, straight for the conveniently open door to the courtyard outside –
She only made it three steps before her muscles simply – stopped. She strained to move, trembling in place – but it was almost like her body and mind both forgot what they were trying to do. It was called Subjugation, she knew – one of the more useful ways that a priest could channel a God’s strength. She was held utterly immobile by the will of a priest. Rathek was watching her, and had prevented her escape.
A second later the guards caught up to her. Something heavy, another baron, slammed into her back and drove her down. An instant later four others landed on her, holding her down. “Idiots,” Rathek yelled from the stairs. “You know she’s an assassin, and you still handled her like some gutter rat. Bind her you idiots, before she kills all of you. By Karn, you’re all fools.”
Apparently tired of being made fools of, the guards quickly bound her wrists tightly behind her, and as soon as the Weeping Siren had her arms restrained they made sure she wouldn’t be able to escape by pulling her boots off and tying a second both between her ankles, too tight for her to run. They seemed disappointed not to find any more weapons on her, but Siren knew that she was now truly disarmed, having nothing left to fight with. A few seconds later, the Subjugation ended, and she could remember to struggle again, thrashing against her bonds, testing them for a second and finding them more than tight enough.
With her legs bound, she wouldn’t be able to walk up the stairs – but the men didn’t care. To her humiliation, they simply picked her up and carried her like a disobedient child as they walked up towards Rathek. The priest stood glaring down at her. He was a huge man and probably weighed four times what she did. His skin was dark, the skin of the men of the deserts to the East, and his head was shaved bare. In the middle of the night, he still wore his formal vestment – he hadn’t been sleeping at all. “So this is the Weeping Siren?” he asked as some of the injured guards limped up the stairs behind her, leaving the corpse of the slain guard bleeding on the floor. “She hardly looks old enough to have caused so much trouble…”
He paused. “But she is a slippery one. Killing one of my guards – and Kryn is dead,” Rathek said, glancing over in the direction of the room she had opened and the priest she had killed with the thrown knife. He grunted as he took Siren’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her head up. “Pretty thing,” he commented, taking in her smooth white skin, crimson hair, and bright green eyes. “It will be interesting to see what the rest of her looks like. Take her to my rooms.”
So far she hadn’t spoken a word – but what could Siren say? Playing dumb and remaining silent was unlikely to help, but admitting what she had done would change nothing. Begging for mercy? That would just excite him – she doubted it would help. There was nothing in her present situation she could think of saying that might help her.
The assassin was half-walked, half-carried to one of the rooms in the hallway – back to the empty one she had opened first. Siren silently cursed at her stupidity – she had figured that would be the one. When it was empty, it should have tipped her off – so stupid. Rathek’s words had her almost shaking. What the rest of her looked like – She had a pretty good idea what he had in store for her. She knew what happened to the women in Ariadna’s church who found themselves at Karn’s tender mercies.
As she passed the room that had gotten her caught, she caught a glimpse of the priest laying dead on the bed, face down – and the priest he had been raping, still covered in his blood, was kneeling on the floor, waiting for someone to come for her. She hadn’t even tried to flee while everyone was busy with her. Siren wished that she was surprised – but she had seen it before. She had had little luck getting the slave-priestesses to flee after killing their masters in the past – so many of them were too broken to meaningfully resist any longer, their resistance too shattered.
Rathek motioned to the bed – a heavy wide timbered thing. The men holding her smiled nasty smiles – and Siren was momentarily overcome with a stab of panic. She was surrounded by large grinning men, her wrists tightly tied behind her, and in the middle of the sanctum of a monster who delighted in inflicting pain on women – and despite herself, despite knowing for certain that her bonds were too tight to escape, she struggled against them like a wildcat anyway.
The men broke into laughter as she thrashed to no effect, and she slowly forced herself to stop struggling. She couldn’t escape, not now – She could do nothing at all to stop what was going to happen to her, but at least she could try to face it with courage, like so many of Ariadna’s priestess’s had needed to. She stayed still as her captors walked her over to the bed, and while two of them held her arms another untied her wrists. The two men immediately pulled them out to the side, the sleeves of her dark shirt were pulled up, and a cuff was strapped to each wrist. Then chains were linked to metal loops riveted into the cuffs and her arms were pulled out to the side, and secured other things screwed deep into the wood of the frame, probably for this exact purpose. She was held rigidly in place, unable to so much as squirm her shoulders. Then the same thing was done to each of her ankles, leaving her body spread out in the shape of an X on top of the neatly made bed.
The young girl had never felt so helpless or exposed in her 18 years. Here, tried to the bed, Siren was completely vulnerable to whatever the priest she had come here to kill wanted to do to her. It was all she could do not to scream in terror.
One of the guards came into the room, holding a bloody dagger – the one she had thrown at the priest, Kryn. “Now,” Rathek said lazily, “let’s get a better look at the infamous assassin, shall we?” He ran his tongue over his lips as he lifted up the knife. “It only seems right that I use your knife…”
She kept her blades sharp. It took all of Siren’s courage not to flinch away from the edge as he slid it between her wrists and her sleeve, slicing her tight tunic all the way to her neck. She felt the priest’s blood drip onto her – he hadn’t bothered to clean the knife first. Then Rathek repeated the operation on her other arm before cutting down from her neck to her waist, allowing her top to fall away.
She wore nothing beneath it – the shirt had been tight enough to bind her breasts without additional help. She gasped once in fear as she was rendered nude to her waist. The priest sneered in disgust and grabbed the holy symbol from around her neck, yanking it hard enough that the clasp broke and then tossing it aside, hearing the silver ring against the hardwood floor. Her eyes wide, Siren looked on at Rathek as he stepped back to admire her smallish, pointed breasts. “Not as large as I prefer,” he commented, “but beautiful all the same.” He encircled their white softness with his fingers and flicked his thumbs over the roseate nipples. “They will look lovely covered in welts.”
Siren stifled a gasp of fear, but Rathek noticed her fear anyway. “You’re right to be afraid you little tart. Hurting your pretty little tits is the least I am going to do to you.” He emphasized his point by clamping his hands over her breasts with bruising force. “Now let’s take a look at what else you can offer me,” he said, dropping his hands and picking up the dagger again. Now clad only in her dark clinging trousers, there wasn’t much left for him to do, and he quickly used the dagger to remove her remaining clothing. More even that she wanted to drive that dagger into Rathek’s eye, she wanted to close her legs – but even that tiny mercy was denied her.
The assassin took little care of her body, but she was naturally nearly hairless, with only wisps of fiery furry blocking complete sight of her untouched cunt from the men. She had never known a man – had never felt the urge for anything but her vengeance since her mother had died. Siren had not expected to die old in her bed, and more than a part of her had always known it would end just like this, with a priest or soldier of Karn forcing his way between her legs. She thought she had made her peace with that, accepted that her death would likely come right after having been violated, but now that she was here she realized she had been lying to herself.
“What do you all think?” Rathek asked the men around him. “Is the so-called ‘Weeping Siren’ nothing but a blushing virgin? She certainly acts like a woman who has never been touched.”
The other priest in the crowd, who must have pushed in while she was distracted, sneered. “She won’t be by the time we’re finished with her. She deserves to get fucked twice as hard for what she did to Kryn.”
“True,” the lead priest said, lowering one hand over her cunt and sliding a finger inside of her. His finger was coarse, thick, and roughly textured, but he wasn’t overly rough about it – he didn’t need to be. The size of the intrusion coupled with her shame and fear made even this minor violation horrific. His finger poked around inside her incredible tightness, feeling huge as he fought against her clenching sex – and finding the barrier of her maidenhead. Rathek smiled. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” he commented. “Not quite the whore I figured her for. We’ll fix that soon enough.”
Siren could barely hold back her feelings of disgust and fear. She pulled futilely at her chains, knowing as she did so that she had no chance of escape. “Little gutter rat,” Rathek mocked her. “You thought you can oppose the God of Fate without retribution? Your execution will give me nightmares. Jaras is going to see to your personally – what we do to you will give any rebel second thoughts before they raise a hand against any follow of the True God!”
He threw open his robe and stepped forward. “But first – you have violated my home and killed one of my men. Before I have finished with you, you will wish you were dead instead.” Siren stared in horror at Rathek’s huge phallus. He was fully aroused and appeared enormous to her terrified eyes. She heaved her body in frenzied desperation as Rathek moved between her thighs, but could do nothing as his hands moved to her firm backside and pulled her up toward him – and then he thrust inside her.
Siren screamed as he took her. He penetrated her deeply, taking her virginity in a single thrust and then driving further inside her. Siren had never felt such terrible pain in her life. With one single thrust deeply into her, this monster had taken her innocence away forever, not caring about her own wishes or comfort or anything about her, caring only for his own pleasure and her pain. The assassin could feel him inside her, drilling deeply into her defenseless sex, his cock stretching her unwilling, unprepared opening in an agonizing shove.
The pain and the humiliation brought tears to her eyes, and for a few heartbeats, she was close to fainting. Her mother, mercifully, had avoided this fate for herself – but she was not so lucky. She wanted to stay strong, didn’t want to give him the pleasure of her screams of pain – but she couldn’t help herself. All that came out of her mouth were pitiful cries and sobs as the power priest raped her, hurt her more than anything she’d ever experienced. Squirming, writhing beneath him in her bonds, she thrashed in a vain attempt to escape. With her arms and legs spread, he could do little but throw her head from side to side as scream after scream escaped from her soft lips. He didn’t seem to even register her resistance – All he did was grin down at her, his eyes filled with lust as he punished her pussy with hard, deep thrusts that forcing his cock deeper into her with every push.
“Give it to her my lord,” the other priest said as the men laughed, grinning at the assassin’s obvious misery. His hands were in his pants, stroking himself as he watched the Weeping Siren weep and scream as she was raped. The soldiers cheered as they looked on with open lust, hoping to tear off a piece of the whore themselves.
Rathek didn’t notice yet – He was rapidly approaching his climax. The assassin’s screaming fueled his arousal as he plunged his thick cock into her again and again, not merely taking her virginity but plundering her completely. “You missed your calling as a fucking whore girl…” he growled, even thought Siren was too lost in her own world of misery to even hear him. He closed his eyes as he felt his balls tighten while her cunt clenched around him, milking his cock against her will.
“Take it, whore!” he grunted. “Take my load again like a good… little… cunt!” Holding her down, his cock sprayed a hot load deeply into the helpless girl whose cries became more shrill as she felt his hot semen splash against her tormented inner walls. Rathek didn’t stop raping her as he came, either – his throbbing cock continued to thrust in and out of her as he finished, churning her insides up.
At last, Rathek pulled back, leaving her limp and bleeding on the bed. He turned to his subordinate priests and the guards, smirking. “I’m finished with the bitch. Have your fun,” Rathek said as he turned and left the room, closing the heavy door behind him.
“Well, boys,” Vyr said, looking around. “Looks like we’ve got this little bitch all to ourselves.
He was already unbuckling his belt as he spoke and Siren could not help trembling in fear at what awaited her. “You made me look like a fool,” he growled as he moved between her thighs. “I’m going to make you suffer for that…” Then he gripped the outside of her thighs and without another word he placed his cock at the entrance of her pussy.
He was not nearly as large as Rathek had been, but he was large enough, and she was already very sore. The soldier pushed himself hard inside, filling her already abused pussy with one thrust. “By Karn you’re tight,” he hissed as he leaned forward, his hands grabbing the assassin’s pretty tits as her body rocked with the force of his rapid pushes. Thankfully, he lacked Rathek’s endurance as well – after only a few minutes of hard pounding, he was cumming in her. And then he was pushed to the side, and another man was taking his place.
One man after the other climbed onto the bed, taking her between her spread legs one after the other while she screamed and gasped and moaned. One of the priests was fucking her now, lustfully violating her cunt with long, hard strokes. Not quite the size of Rathek either, his cock nevertheless hurt her terribly, her poor pussy swollen and agonized from her initial rape.
She barely realized what the others were doing as they moved her slightly on the bed, not unbinding her and moving her up on the bed until her head hung off the edge of the frame. She caught a glimpse of one of the other priests as her head fell backward, and then he was pushing his cock against her lips again. If she had thought about it just hours ago, she would have been certain she would bite any cock that came near her – but in the kind of pain she was suffering under, she found that the thought never occurred to her.
The priest didn’t rely on her to suck him off, though. He fucked her with long, deep strokes, raping her face just like the other priest was using her pussy, enjoying the horrible, retching noises she made and the clenching of her throat around the head of his shaft. Not to be undone, the other man squeezing Siren’s tits hard while at the same time sinking his entire length into her aching, tortured cunt, making her utter a gargled scream around the second rapist’s cock.
“Pretty sure she’s never sucked a cock before in her life,” the priest laughed as he held her head steady, letting him drive his dick all the way down her throat as her head hung off the side of the bed, making her choke for a moment before pulling back with a sigh of pleasure. “Bitch is likely to suffocate before we finish with her unless she learns quick.”
“That’s a fitting fate for an assassin,” the other priest laughed. “The legendary Weeping Siren – choked to death on cock.”
She couldn’t breathe. She thrashed from side to side, but with her series of retching and gagging and choking and retching, she couldn’t even bite down, couldn’t defend herself as she slowly suffocated as her face was raped. She tried to plead around the cock in her mouth as the priest pushed his member deeper and deeper, relishing in the pleasure her mouth and gagging throat provided. She couldn’t do anything but try to gasp for air and be denied, over and over and over again, watching his balls swing at her eyes over and over as her vision went dark…
At last, he gasped and moaned and began shooting wave after wave of his jism into her warm mouth – but she didn’t react. As he pulled back, her head hung limp, unconscious – but it didn’t stop the other priest from was filling Siren’s pussy with long, deep strokes, still twisting and jerking her small tits. “Pathetic,” the priest said. “Passed out after one cock. Can’t succeed as an assassin – can’t even take a little dick. Good for nothing whore.”
“Oh, she’s good for something alright,” the other priest laughed as he gripped her hips and pushed himself deep over and over, causing Siren jerk back and forth, cum and spit dripping down her lax mouth and down her face. “For getting raped over and over by her betters – for getting filled by – my – cum!” He growled as he filled her pussy with another load of cum. He backed off – but the fact that the assassin was unconscious didn’t make the other men hesitate a second. They continued to crowd around her and fuck her anyway. “Just don’t kill her yet if you can help it,” the priest said with a chuckle.
Even knocked out, she was a great fuck for the guards, her pussy naturally tight and unyielding even without her muscles fighting her rape, her mouth a wet, tight, warm hole for any cock. Long after both holes should have dried up and become unfuckable, the guards kept her plenty lubed up with the leavings of the men to have already taken her, as they took her over and over and over –
Siren wasn’t sure how much later she woke back up – probably hours, the repeated throat rapes stealing her air over and over again. She woke up slowly. Blinking, she had trouble focusing, head feeling heavy and confused – she felt sick, nauseous. The assassin’s lips seemed almost glued together, her mouth raw and thick with something – Then she remembered where she was. Siren’s head still hung over the edge of the bed, cum plastering her face so thickly she could barely force her eyes open. It spilled from lips that were swollen and bleeding from the constant abuse, pouring down to coat her face like a disgusting liquid mask. She finally pried her lips open to moan out, only to be answered with a hard cock pushing past her swollen lips.
The shock made her squirm and choke, throat closing in like a vice around the thick shaft. Tears fill her eyes in a second as she struggled pathetically in place, her hands clenched into fists while she jerked in place as his balls slapped against her throat with each thrust. If they even realized she had woken up, they clearly didn’t care – they continued to use her body as an object to jack off their cocks, and whether she was conscious or not mattered nothing at all.
Her pussy was full too, she realized – she was horrendously full, still being raped, still helpless with nothing she could do to stop it. The thickness of the cock pumping past her lips stretches her jaw achingly wide as the soldier deep-fucks her slender throat, as the same time another used her cunt like a sewer, depositing yet more load of his cum into her. The sheer amount of cum pushed into her stomach and cunt both left her feeling bloated, and a fair amount more erupted out around the hard cock pounding into her throat only join the growing sheet of slime oozing down her face.
Her eyes widened as the guard begins to pump a little harder. Another load shots deep inside her throat after a particular vicious thrust that smacked his balls against her face and kept the pressure against her nose. Unable to breathe, she felt like she was about to black out again, a burning pain in her lungs growing overwhelming until at last he backed out far enough to shoot the rest of his seed right into her mouth, refreshing the taste yet again. She coughed, and hacked up some of the cum, spilling over her lips and down her cheeks. With her head bent over the edge, cum leaked “up” her face, covering her cheeks and eyes too thoroughly for her tears to wash them away. Some of it spilled into her nose, stopping her again from breathing as she shook her head and snorted, trying to clear it.
All she got was her efforts was a slap from another hard length of cock across her face – but she got a glimpse of the room as the last man stepped away. The room was crowded with men still – dozens and dozens still waiting a turn with her – tied to a cot as the soldier’s sole amusement for the night.
Cock after cock was rammed into her open, vulnerable little mouth, and her tender face is brutally pounded as they rape-fucked her throat and pussy with all the savagery they can muster. Careless of how much it hurts her, careless of her ability to breathe – her head slammed against the side of the bed painfully with the fury of the heavy thrusts into her, balls slapping wetly against her cum-slick nose and eyes.
Siren wished they would hurry up and kill her already. Covered in male seed, she wasn’t sure if the foul smell was from the latest guards raping her or just the build-up of cum spread all over her face and stuffed inside her. Her lips ache, swollen and bloody with a few gashes here and there where the soft flesh bust open. Her pussy was swollen and aching, pink-tainted cum leaking out of her from her cunt fucked raw. Now that she was awake, if she was slow to open her mouth for the next cock in line, the man would just squeeze her throat, and that was enough to leave her mouth agape until someone plugged her up with another hard rod of meat. Thoughts of biting them flash through her mind, but just grazing a few as she gags earns her enough slaps and threats to keep her docile enough to being skull-raped by the soldiers.
Hours pass and the red-haired beauty was reduced to a panting mess, numb lips just sucking and nibbling weakly at whatever is pressed close enough, a puddle of cum and drool beneath her, small breasts rising and falling quickly in attempts to earn enough air between having a cock forced down her neck. Her red hair was mostly white by now with cum that dripped down, hanging down heavily from her head. Time dragged on as she was used like a worthless piece of meat, drifting in and out of consciousness, never waking up without a pair of cocks in her, never without cum bubbling up past her lips like some foul prayer to Ariadna for mercy – only to spit up yet another slimy mess across her face so thick with cum and filth that she looks more like a dumpster than a feared assassin or even a girl – a used up piece of fuckmeat.
Siren felt as if her ordeal has been going on for weeks rather than hours. The stench and taste of cum sickening and repulsive as her stomach is filled with nothing but their seed. Her pretty young face was completely covered in cum like a mask, her eyes hollow from the strain of the abuse and her troubled spots of sleep between her ongoing gangrape did little to help her.
Her lips showed several gashes, some already crusted over, others bleeding a little every time a rougher guard gripped her head and feeds her his cock. Sometimes choking, sometimes panting, she manages to get enough air to get by most of the time. A few more time they fucked her lights out, raping her into unconsciousness.
The sun had come back up and was beginning to set again before she felt herself being moved. The movement drove the filth in her stomach and womb around, a sickening, burning sensation as she was released from her bonds. She could finally run – but she was as weak and helpless as a newborn after nearly fourteen hours of abuse. She was flipped face down onto the mattress, her soaked hair sticking disgustingly to her skull as powerful hands grabbed at her young, slender body and pulled her ass up towards the waiting men.
She cried and whimpered as they moved her, her swollen belly making her feel sick as she was pressed against the mattress. Her thin slit was open and gushing cum, but for now left alone as a guard hard, hot cock rubbed between her asscheeks, making her squirm. Even after everything she had been through, all the pain and the fucking and the way her world spun she still knew what was coming. Her dignity gone, she tried to plead for mercy from between tired lips – but she found she had no voice, the cum crusting her throat robbing her of it.
Then another soldier stepped up to her face and pushed into her open mouth. Unlike the others, he wasn’t rock hard, but it still pushed effortlessly past her gasping, swollen lips. She didn’t even process the difference as crammed every inch of his thick shaft down her gullet – and began to piss. She can feel the cock twitch as the stream is released right into her throat, forcefully pumping straight into her already sick stomach. She began to wretch and make horrific, cock-hardening sounds of anguish as he pissed right down her neck.
His degradation seemed to last forever – so much piss filling her already bloated insides that some leaked out around his shaft and more was snorted out of her nose, adding to her miserable, abused look, smearing her cum covered face even as the guard behind her spread her poor little ass and begins to pry at the entrance. Siren heaved in disgust as the man pulled back from her face, managing to find it in her to scream through her ravaged throat as her asshole started to spread slowly but inexorably before that massive cock.
Her tiny pucker slowly yields to the drooling cockhead – as sloppy as her cunt has become, no one had touched her ass yet, and the only lube was what cum had dripped down her thighs to pool on the bed beneath her. The guard’s weight threatened to crush her down into the mattress as he heaved his entire mass against her time and time again as his hard cock drilled, splitting its way between her cheeks like a spear being stabbed into her. The pain in her pussy and her bruised lips and throat felt like nothing her abused lips is nothing compared to the agony of her untouched ass tore to accommodate this newest violation, and she knew it was only starting.
Siren’s little clenching hole slowly caved to the wicked cock being pushed into her – and then suddenly it gave, a sharp pain shooting all the way up her spine as the monster forces his way into her. With all the guard’s weight and strength working to shove that monster cock inside her ass, when her resistance broke it was like a dam bursting. In an instant, almost the entire length of that shift shaft was rammed into her with a single thrust. For a moment, the assassin was as still as a corpse, shock robbing her of the ability to even twitch. Then she screamed, her legs kicking and buckling, twitching in pain and agony. She wasn’t bound anymore, and her legs and arms could really thrash – but she was so weak the other guards had no problem holding her down so that their companion could stab her over and off in her virgin asshole.
It seemed to the assassin like her body was stretching and reshaping around the monstrous cock in her guts as he started to fuck her. Her slim body quaked with the force of each brutal thrust, guts twisting around the invading battering ram of flesh. It felt like her hips were going to crack with each merciless, pounding thrust, and her poor ass was being torn with each thrust. Her guts shifted inside her to make room, her body squeezing his cock like a tight glove. Siren was lost in a sickening sea of agony, her blood the only lube as her body was used as a living cocksheath with sloppy, lewd noises. She couldn’t tell how long it had been going on – had to only be a minute or two, but it felt like hours and hours. No one else was playing with her body now – they were just holding her down while her rapist kneaded and slapped at asscheeks, spread horrifically, impossibly wide around the cockshaft burrowing into her.
The guard was obviously enjoying it – groaning and grunting like an animal as he raped her to the cheers of the others. He violently took out his lusts on the captured assassin, his hips slapping rhythmically against her upturned asscheeks as he sinks his mammoth cock into her guts again and again – until with a roar of conquest the bastard finally came deep inside of her. The huge shaft in her asshole exploded like a fire hose, dousing her innards with such a powerful pulse of cum that it feels as if she’d been punched in the stomach from inside – and still her rape wasn’t over. As he came, he still ground his murderous dick in and out of her while she sobbed and cried, trying to jerk her head free, shoulders nearly popping out of their sockets as she struggled with the hands holding her.
Slowly, the hands holding her eased off as the guard pulled out of the broken, gaping, bleeding asshole of the Weeping Siren. A loud pop was audible as he pulled out, her gaping hole bleeding pink cum off in bursts. The torn muscle clenches a little, convulsing for several seconds before closing slightly, unable to fully block the leakage. It’s left gaping, wide enough to fit several fingers in, her legs spread to the sides, aching from the strain. Twitching occasionally, Siren sobs against the mattress, seemingly too weak to move even after they released her – lying limp while the soldiers joked and laughed and mocked her.
And then, when all their hands were off her, Siren moved.
She didn’t try to run – that would never work. She would be caught and punished, even if she felt her torn and abused body would let her move like normal. No, she had exhausted every option that was likely to lead to her surviving already. Now she just wanted it to end – so instead, in true desperation, she threw herself at the closed window. The glass broke, and she felt it cut a long line across her scalp and rip into her shoulders as she threw herself through, barely missing opening up her throat. For what felt like a long second Siren hung in the twilight sky, looking out over the riverbank below, too far away, the sunset reflecting off the river’s surface and turning it into a mirror. Then she was falling – falling – falling…
Perhaps luck was with her after all. Her lithe body slipped into the river canal, vanishing beneath the surface of the water while above her men yelled to hunt the assassin down.
Everything in her had wanted to just not come back up – but she had forced her body to work, to swim as far down the river as she could before her lungs felt like they were going to give out. Perversely, she had had plenty of recent practice in holding her breath – she made it a good while down the stream before she came up at the edge of the river. Every muscle in her body ached, and it hurt abominably, but she made her tortured body obey. She was nowhere near out of trouble – in fact, she was probably as good as dead still – but at least the water had washed away the cum in her hair and on her skin. She felt cleaner than she had been in years, and her rape had only been going on for one terrible day. The river wasn’t going to be easy for her to escape – It was cut through the city like a canal. She had crept along the side of it to where she had scaled Rathek’s house rather than go down into it – the river had steep sides, and she would have one hell of a time climbing out.
It probably didn’t matter. Siren would probably bleed to death through the cuts on her neck before the soldiers got her, anyway. Already she was growing cold – the water carried away the blood, leaving Siren with no good way to know much blood she was losing – but it was too much. She needed to find a place to hide, a place to hide, out of the water, to get warm, to bandage herself…
Luck. She needed luck – And luck seemed to be in short supply, since that day ten years ago.
But maybe that was changing. She saw the boat just ahead – a large canal boat, with a cabin and everything. It was low to the water – she might be able to get in. Of course, with how close it was to the house she’d been held captive they would certainly try to search it for her, but what other choice did she have? The boat buckled a little as she pulled herself onto it, ignoring the humming voice of the barge’s driver – a woman, she felt sure. Naked and bleeding, she didn’t wait to see her – she crawled into the cabin as stealthily as she could, finding some clothing helpfully laid out on the bed – another stroke of luck. She tore some of the sheets to make bandages and tied them tight around her cuts, hoping it would be enough. She gently slipped into the clothing, every movement making her body ache.
It was warm – another stroke of luck. If it had been a chilly evening, the cold might have been enough to kill Siren in her weakened state. Already she was shivering horribly, and she huddled in the clothing, helpless and weak – until she heard the soldiers.
She went still, crouching down between the bedframe and the wall as much as she could. Stupid – why didn’t she just stay in the water? Why didn’t she breathe in down there, and leave them with nothing more than her corpse to offer their god? Perhaps they would have continued to use her body even then, but at least she would have been beyond caring. Maybe then she could have come back as a real Siren, and make them all pay – instead, they were going to capture her again and make her suffer. She couldn’t allow that, not again – she began looking around for a knife, a glass bottle, anything sharp, anything she could use to kill a soldier with, or herself…
And that was when she heard the voice.
“No one else on here, sirs,” the barge owner said. It was a woman – a young one, by the sound of her voice, as sweet as birdsong. A voice she had heard before – one she would always remember. “Just going on my rounds, same as every night…”
She pressed herself further against the wall, breathing hard and trying to keep it silent. She wasn’t crazy, she wasn’t, no matter what they tried to tell her – She held her breath as she heard the footsteps of heavy boots on the deck, heard the door to the cabin open. “No one’s come on? You sure? You know what could happen to you if we find you lying?” She didn’t recognize that voice, but it was probably one of the men who had been raping her tonight – there had been so many…
“I’m not lying,” the woman said calmly. “There’s no one here. You see?”
A pause. “Yeah, I see,” the voice growled. Closing door. Boot stomps. Silence.
The assassin didn’t breathe until her lungs were burning up, only when she couldn’t hold a second longer did she dare to take a breath – emerging from behind the bed where she had been just barely concealed from view. How lucky that they hadn’t taken two more steps into the room – only it hadn’t been luck at all, had it? None of it had.
She opened the door slowly, watching as the boat Karn’s soldiers were on disappear down the river. Her own boat was empty – there was no woman. She was alone.
Running her hands through damp hair as she idly sorted through the cabin, Leila let her memories take her back a decade – to the temple she had grown up in. She was wearing men’s clothing – the boots were sized for a man, the belt sized for a man. There was a shaving razor on the counter. This wasn’t a woman’s ship, but a mans.
Ten years ago, she had seen the Goddess. On that horrible day, the day her father had died and her life had fallen apart, they had pulled her out of the fountain of the temple, just before Karn’s soldiers and priests had made it inside. She remembered it. No one had believed her, that that woman wasn’t a priest – but she had known what she saw. Remembered her face. Remembered her voice. The voice that had made Karn’s soldiers go away. The woman who had put this boat here in her path. Who had given her shelter when she was about to die.
Leila fell down at the bow of the ship, weeping happy tears as her wet, crimson hair stirred behind her. She clutched at where her father’s holy symbol would have been, had Rathek not ripped it off her neck. “Ariadna…” she whispered. “I haven’t forgotten. I’m yours – now and forever.”