This is an especially brutal story, filled with torture, rape, and snuff. Be sure this is a thing you want to read before continuing.
Merethyl Zumcyne awoke early the day life as she knew it was obliterated.
She was a younger elf, still living with her parents, but the small town where she lived buzzed with how beautiful she’d become. Soon, she’d have to start entertaining the courtship process from potential mates. Despite her beauty, she was fairly certain what her future held. It was a farming town, and she’d likely become a farmer’s wife. Such a fate did not worry her. The farming life was ingrained into her, and she’d certainly had enough experience with what was required of a farmer’s wife thanks to her mother. It did not seem like a bad life. Simple, but pleasant. But she still had some time before she would have to go through with such things. Until then, she had every intention of enjoying the safety and convenience of life under her parent’s roof.
With the scent of breakfast in the air and beams of sunlight creeping in through her bedroom window, Merethyl rose from her bed, stretching and yawning. Her full breasts pushed against the front of her thin nightie, nipples displayed prominently. She got to her feet, getting dressed with casual laziness. The day would be full of chores and duties around the farm, making her few moments of private tranquility all the more important.
The young elf trotted out of her room and into the kitchen of her small but cozy family home. Her mother, Deulara, was putting the finishing touches on breakfast. Her sister, Tephysea, was at the table, waiting eagerly for the grub. Her father, Khidell, wasn’t there, most likely already out in the fields. Merethyl savored each bite of breakfast she took, marveling at how stunning a cook her mother was. She was still learning the woman’s techniques, getting quite skilled herself, but she doubted she’d ever approach the level of culinary skill Deulara possessed. She traded sniping comments with her sister throughout the meal. Tephysea was several years older than she was, but still a maiden. Her disinterest in men was a well-established fact and she’d made claims that she was training to become a priestess, but Merethyl suspected her sister simply wanted to loaf off of her parents for as long as possible. Still, the sniping was mostly in good humor. She could hardly blame Tephysea for her scheme. Their quaint home was a special kind of peaceful paradise.
Merethyl might have been tempted to engage in a similar scheme, except she very much did have an interest in men. Merethyl’s maidenhood was intact, but the same could not be said of her other, less sacred holes. She considered the carnal acts she’d engaged in to be pre-courtship examinations. More than that, they were quite fun. She sloshed a mouthful of half-chewed food in her mouth, remembering an evening she’d spent with Vulmar Naetris in his father’s barn. She’d performed similar tongue movements on an area of his anatomy less tasty than the morsel in her mouth, but the sounds she’d made him make had been far more satisfying in the pit of her loins. The expulsion he’d deposited across her sweaty, panting face afterwards had felt sticky and warm and filthy, but she’d loved it.
Vulmar’s father’s farm was larger than her father’s. Marrying him would be quite the advancement, not only for herself, but for her family. And – of all her dalliances – she did enjoy the sight and feel of Vulmar’s cock the most. Still, there were customs to go through, and she’d not began them with any of her potential suitors. Not officially.
Alarm jolted through the young elf as she heard the panicked yelling. It took her a few moments to realize the voice was her father’s. She’d never heard him so afraid.
Deulara was already peering out the window, looking out into the fields. Merethyl and her sister joined her there. They spotted Khidell running towards the house, legs pumping hard and face red with strain and terror. He waved his arms, yelling for them to flee. The three women remain frozen, shocked, confused, until they saw the advancing drow warriors chasing behind Khidell.
Some of the warriors possessed bows. They stopped their chase to take aim at Khidell, notching arrows and stretching their bowstrings back. There was no discernable sound as the arrows shot free, but the horrendous scream that ripped up her father’s throat chilled Merethyl to the bone. She watched his body stumble, back arching awkwardly. His bulging eyes locked with hers for a moment before he faceplanted into the tilled soil, four arrows lodged deeply into his back. She saw him start to stir, try to get back to his feet, but by then one of the drow warriors had reached him. Merethyl turned away from the window, but she swore she was able to hear the meaty thud of the axe descending into her father’s body, ensuring his death.
Deulara choked back her sadness. “Merethyl,” she groaned, finding some edge of steel. “Hurry, out the back. You must warn the town. Your sister and I will delay them as much as we can.”
“But mother…” Tephysea protested, fear as much in her words as it was in her face.
Deulara turned a stern look to her eldest daughter. “Merethyl is the fastest of us,” she explained. “And the people must know what’s coming if there’s to be any chance of fending them off.” She turned to her youngest. “Go! Don’t look back!” Merethyl nodded, numbed from the sudden violence that had invaded her idyllic life. She looked at her mother and sister, hoping that she would get to see them again soon, but doubtful that it would come to pass. Then she turned and ran for the back door. Her town was small, on the outskirts of the elven kingdom. A simple farming town. She didn’t know what they’d be able to do to ward off an assault from the drows. But she had her task, and she vowed to not let her mother down.
Deulara’s shock radiated through her. The pain of Khidell’s death stirred up sorrow and hatred within her. Alongside those feelings were ones of confusion. It had been so long since the drow had ventured above ground. She’d heard tales of them, but had never seen any personally. From the tales, she’d have assumed their soldiers would have been primarily female, although of the ones she could see advancing on her home, she only saw males. If anything, that could be a benefit. Men were easy to manipulate. It would not be pleasant, but she was determined to buy Merethyl as much time as she could, buy their town as much time as she could, to mount some kind of defense, send word deeper into the kingdom so that the elven army could arrive to beat the fiends back. She looked to Tephysea, seeing the terror on her eldest daughter’s face. “Hide,” Deulara told her. “And, no matter what you hear, do not come out.”
Tephysea’s face scrunched up, tears leaking down her eyes. “We should both hide.”
“If we both hide, they’ll either find us quickly, or they’ll pass by the house and be onto your sister that much faster,” Deulara explained urgently. She could hear the marching steps of the soldiers drawing closer. They were running out of time. “Just do as I say, child.” Wiping at her damp cheeks, Tephysea nodded and fled deeper into the house, heading for her bedroom. Deulara felt an icy ball of dread in her gut. She knew that the drow would find her daughter before long. There were not many places to hide in the house. But if she could delay Tephysea’s defilement and potential death even by a few minutes, she hoped that would be enough. Gathering every ounce of courage she had, the elven woman strode to the front door to greet her husband’s killers.
She stripped away her clothing as she went, hoping that the sudden sight of her exposed flesh would delay them long enough for her to make them an offer. A foul offer, but one far more agreeable to her than a prompt slaughter. Deulara pulled open the door and stepped into the threshold, displaying her plump breasts to the oncoming horde of drow.
The arrow plunked into Deulara’s forehead, skewering her brain before erupting from the back of her skull. Her dying face managed a surprised expression as she teetered in the doorway, piss draining down her long, smooth legs. Her stiff-limbed body toppled backwards, collapsing to the floor as the front line of the drow assault force reached the house. Deulara’s plan of using sexual allure to distract the drow had not been a bad one. She’d simply overestimated their interest in keeping her alive before engaging in the violation of her body.
A pair of drow soldiers scooped up her twitching husk and dragged her back into the kitchen, sweeping the half- eaten meal off of the table and dumping her body onto it. One soldier dropped his head between her spread thighs, lapping his tongue across her hairless slit to get his first taste of elven pussy. The other moved around the table, gripping the arrow in the woman’s head and using it to turn her face to the side, slack lips waiting for his rigid flesh. The drow between Deulara’s legs lifted his face away from her crotch and freed his member, slotting himself into her damp folds. The dead elf woman’s body rocked against the table as she was vigorously fucked, head yanked back and forth along the length of one erection while another pounded into her cunt. A third drow soldier climbed on top of her body, sliding his prick through her deep cleavage.
More soldiers tore through the small home, tearing the place apart. Panicked shrieks filled the house as Tephysea was dragged from under her bed, hauled back to the kitchen. Her screams turned to sobs as she saw what had become of her mother. Her arms clawed towards the dead woman, begging her for help despite Deulara’s obvious inability to do anything beyond take the cocks of her rapists.
Tephysea’s constant shrieks were quickly deemed too annoying to go on listening to. The young elf was forced to her knees beside her mother’s corpse. A sword was brought to her throat, cutting deeply through her flesh. Her face filled with pained horror as a torrent of blood gushed from her opened arteries, spilling across her chest and leaving her top clinging to her heaving breasts. The soldier continued to cut, slicing deeper through Tephysea’s neck. She was still clinging to life when her head was ripped free from her body. The drow soldier pinning her down twisted her jerking form towards him, sheathing his erection down her bloody esophagus while the one responsible for her painful decapitation dropped his sword and pushed her neck stump down his throbbing length.
Only a small portion of the drow forces remained at the small farmhouse, defiling the first pair of elven women to fall in their initial assault. The rest pressed on, following not far behind Merethyl, on their way to the town. The attack was as much about sending a message to the elven leadership as it was about securing a foothold into their territory. And while violating the corpses of the women was a critical part of the message, it was not the only concern. Still, the soldiers were encouraged to have whatever fun they liked with those they captured or killed, as long as the bulk of the fighting force continued to press on.
Merethyl scrambled into town, sweaty and out of breath. She stumbled towards the nearest person she saw, gasping and babbling about the drow. She drew a crowd, but the harder the young elf tried to explain the danger, the more frustrated she became. Her antics caused more confusion than alarm, no one rushing to mount any form of defense. The image of her father falling to the ground, arrows in his back, dead, played in her mind again and again, alongside the imaginations of what might be happening to her mother and sister.
Her panicked efforts finally drew out the constable of the town – a woman by the name of Mhoryga Balzana. She had an intense vibe, angular features, piercing yellow eyes. Merethyl stared into those eyes, knowing that time was running out, and strained to get words up her throat. Something simple. Something clear. “D-drow!” she finally yelled into the constable’s face. “Attack!”
Finally, the concern she wanted, the alarm. It was just unfortunate that it came far too late to do any good. Looking past Mhoryga, Merethyl’s face paled, eyes bulging with terror at the advancing line of drow soldiers. She screamed and pulled free from the constable, turning and putting her fatigued muscles back to work. She’d done as she was told. She could do nothing more except escape, live, keep running. So that’s what she did.
Mhoryga turned to face the oncoming soldiers. At a glance, she knew there were too many to fight off. There were no elven soldiers stationed in their town. A handful of capable hunters, maybe a few others who’d gotten somewhat proficient with a sword, but utilizing them would only accomplish more bloodshed. The best she could do was try to get people to safety. “Everyone, indoors!” she yelled, drawing the short sword she carried on her hip as she strode towards the enemy. “Lock the doors and windows!”
It wasn’t a great plan, but it was the best she could come up with on short notice. If these drow were a proper army, they would see that the people were no threat to them. With luck, they’d move through, not waste their time on helpless farmers. She saw confused hesitation on the faces she scanned across, just another sign that they were not cut out for combat. “Go, dammit!” The elven constable’s focus on keeping the people safe distracted her from the principle threat in front of her. She didn’t notice the drow soldier charging towards her until it was too late. Mhoryga turned towards him, lifted her sword to defend herself. The drow drove the tip of his pike forward, spearing his way into Mhoryga’s crotch.
The high-pitched shriek that poured from the proud woman’s mouth sounded nothing like her to the people that knew her. Her eyes bulged, staring down at the pike, feeling the sharpened blade slicing her sensitive cunt lips to ribbons. She dropped her sword and grabbed the long weapon, trying to pull it free. The drow grinned menacingly and shoved the pike forward, angling it upwards. The blade fucked its way through her vaginal canal, drawing fitful howls of agony from her lips. Mhoryga’s head rolled back, continuing to scream as the drow hefted the weight of her body into the air. Mhoryga’s legs kicked about wildly, hands clutching at her bleeding crotch. The screams pouring out of her sounded nothing like a strong, capable warrior, but the panicked howls of a terrified slab of prey. Gravity tugged her flailing form down the length of the pike, faster as the drow angled it more vertically. The constable’s screams choked off. She hacked up thick gouts of blood, bulging eyes staring to the sky.
Her choking intensified, face constricting as the bloody tip of the pike eased its way up her throat and past her lips. Mhoryga stared at the blade glinting in the morning sun, tears sparkling in her eyes, and then went limp. The drow strained to hold the weight of her corpse, carrying her forward until he found an appropriate place to prop her up. A gruesome totem displaying the future of the little farming town. The constable’s death had not taken long, but Mhoryga would have been proud to know that her suffering had bought the majority of the town’s residents to flee indoors. Only a handful remained, staring in shocked horror at what was transpiring.
Theodred Aenelis, an older male elf – the closest thing they had to a mayor – worked up the courage to defend his town in a different manner. He moved cautiously towards the drow soldiers, hands held out in a placating fashion. “Please,” he said. “We’re mostly just farmers. We have few weapons, little of value. Take what you want of our supplies, but please, do not harm anyone. We’ll not resist.” It may not have been the bravest of statements, but it was the only option he saw to avoid an all-out slaughter.
Unfortunately, the drow soldiers had been given specific orders to carry out that slaughter. A drow soldier approached the man and promptly replied to his offer of a peaceful surrender. He hefted his battle axe up and slammed it into Theodred’s face. His eyes bulged, turning outwards to stare in opposite directions, front teeth smashed apart, nose absolutely destroyed under the cleaving force of the axe blade. His arms shot up from his sides, clawing awkwardly at the air as his trembling body collapsed onto his knees. The soldier growled as he lifted a foot and planted it against the man’s chest, using the leverage to pry his weapon free and kick Theodred’s corpse to the ground.
With the only form of leadership in the town dead, the people panicked. And the drow surged ahead, easily breaking into buildings and claiming the fleshy spoils lurking within. The men were killed outright, butchered with relative simplicity. The males held no interest to the soldiers. The women were a different story. The ones who struggled too much, or did not possess a bare minimum of aesthetics, were dealt with, although their demises did not save their bodies from being violated. The prettiest of the elves were saved from any kind of mutilation or death, cherry picked for enslavement but not kept from being heavily sampled.
Merethyl nearly made it to the far side of town when she spotted the drow soldiers approaching. They had the town surrounded, making escape a slim possibility. She turned and rushed back into the town, frantic and exhausted but coherent enough to recognize where she was. Her best friend – Anarzee Omaleth – lived nearby. With no one else to rely on and the enemy closing in on all signs, sounds of death and violent rape filling the small town, she ran for Anarzee’s home, hoping it would offer some degree of safety until she could find a way to flee.
It did not.
Merethyl cowered in the basement alongside Anarzee and her mother, Tanulia, for a handful of minutes before the drow broke in and dragged them all back into the street. Even in that short span of time, the young elf girl’s sleepy town had become a nightmare. Bloody corpses were littered about, aimlessly. The bodes of the women were being violated, twisted and manipulated into lewd poses that left their defenseless holes open for penetration.
As horrid as the sight was, at least their terror and suffering had come to an end. There were still many women still alive, enduring the torture the drow bestowed freely upon them. Merethyl cringed and squirmed as rough hands groped at her young flesh, tugged at her clothing. She broke into heavy sobs, knowing that she would soon become a part of the rape-orgy. She found herself suddenly wishing that she’d given her maidenhood to Vulmar. It would not make what was coming much more pleasant, but she thought it might have helped some. As she was dragged further into the mayhem, Merethyl soon forgot about her own plight, overwhelmed by the atrocities taking place around her. People she’d known all her life.
Huethea Ralojyre had been awake for hours before Merethyl had stirred from her pleasant slumber to welcome the terrible day that lay ahead. There was nothing like the smell of freshly baked bread to wipe the fog of sleep from her mind. She missed the panicked elf girl’s arrival in town and the subsequent killing of Mhoryga and Theodred. Huethea remained blissfully unaware of the horrors transpiring just outside her bakery until the drow soldiers broke into her kitchen.
She’d barely finished with her first batch of bread for the day. The tray was knocked from her hands, flinging warm loafs into the air as she was dragged to her prep table, rough hands tearing at her clothing. Huethea was full-figured for an elf, a result of her being a bit of a glutton for her own baking. The weight had mostly gone to her breasts and ass, but her physique was overall soft and pliable with a small layer of belly fat. The drow soldiers eagerly grabbed at her, squeezing her tits and smacking her ass as they bent her over the prep table. Her heavy breasts smacked against the flour-covered wood, an explosion of white powder erupting into her face, interrupting her panicked screams with fitful coughing. Her head – caked in flour – darted from side to side, eyes wide.
The attack had happened so fast, it hardly seemed real. As the first drow cock slammed into her defenseless snatch, there was no doubt left that it was happening. The busty baker let out a squeal of horrified pain, squirming and scrambling as her initial rapist took her swiftly and roughly. Her plump tits smacked and dragged through the flour, forcing small puffs of whiteness into the air. Another of the soldiers moved around the prep table, clutching a fistful of Huethea’s hair and yanking her head forward. He pulled his dick in front of her face, smacking at her flour-coated cheeks before slipping into her mouth.
She instinctively clenched her jaw, biting down on the fleshy length. The drow let out a yelp of pain, dragging his prick free and slamming his clenched fist into Huethea’s temple. He slugged her twice more, leaving her dazed, before making a second attempt to shove his aching member past her lips. He found she was far more willing to take him and started working his way up to a steady, quick rhythm of pumps. Tears stung Huethea’s eyes as she endured her unexpected nightmare, one arm painfully twisted around to her back while the other was stretched out, forced to pump along the shaft of another drow soldier. The cock thrusting into her from behind swelled, stretching her tight elven cunt. The baker groaned around the dick in her mouth, disgusted as she felt the first spatters of seed squirting into her. Her cheeks ballooned outwards, eyes bulging, as the drow fucking her face came moments later, forcing her to swallow down his spunk.
She was left gasping across her prep table, humiliated and filthy, for only a few moments before the drow turned her over and tugged her fully onto the table. Their hands moved to her chest, groping and smacking at her heavy tits before one of the men climbed over her. He slid his big dick through her cleavage, snagging her by the hair and yanking her head forward. Spittle and jizz crept down her chin as she eyed the throbbing member rising from between her tits to aim at her mouth. With her head still aching from the beating and a dark bruise farming against her cheek and temple, Huethea offered far less resistance to her second oral penetration, although it did nothing for the disgust the felt as the drow’s erection dragged across her tongue.
A drow scooped up Huethea’s legs, lifting them into the air and spreading them apart. The elf’s pussy stretched open, allowing trickles of creamy white jizz to dribble from her violated hole. The drow eyed the orifice momentarily before guiding his erection lower, pressing the tip against her tight anus. The baker screamed around the cock-meat stuffing her mouth as her asshole stretched painfully to accommodate the drow’s girth. The sharp slap of flesh against flesh filled her ears as the impact of the forceful pumps rocked through her body. Both arms were stretched out, forced to jerk off the members of a couple of impatient drow on either side of her. Her face scrunched up, the sudden touch of drow fingers against her clitoris sending a jolt of unwanted pleasure through her loins. The solider fucking her ass chucked as he felt the spasm work its way through Huethea’s body, her sphincter momentarily clenching tighter around his member.
He worked his fingers against the bitch’s clit faster, teasing her for his pleasure. Huethea groaned as her head was yanked back, forced over the edge of the table so that another drow could gain entrance to her mouth. Her throat bulged around the size of the cock, gagging and gurgling as the rhythmic impact of the man’s testicles smacked against her nose. A drow using one of her hands leaned in, wrapping his lips around her thick nipple and giving it a hard suck. Warm spunk erupted from the valley of her cleavage, streaking across her throat. More of the stuff pumped deep into her bowels, but the cock remained stiff, ready to go on violating her as the soldier slid free from the gaping orifice to slot himself into her wet cunt. The dick in her mouth slid free, leaving her to gasp as the man shot messy wads of cum over her flushed face.
It felt to Huethea that the gang-rape went on for hours. She’d have been horrified to know just how little time had passed. The loafs of bread scattered around the kitchen were still warm when the drow soldiers decided they’d had enough of her busty body.
Her skin was slick with sweat and jizz, a few pasty white patches where the flour still clung to her. They laid her exhausted form out across the prep table, sprinkling more flour over her and adding a layer of bread crumbs. She was barely conscious, too overwhelmed by her brutal assault to comprehend what the drow bastards were doing to her. It wasn’t until she felt the wave of heat from her still burning oven that she realized what they intended.
The baker screamed and flailed, finding enough energy to fight back frantically as the soldiers hefted her off the prep table. She begged for their mercy, but received only cruel laughter in return as they turned her sideways and stuffed her into the waiting oven. Huethea tried to scramble back out only to have the heavy lid slammed shut in her face. She kept on screaming, pounding at the inner wall of the door, feeling the heat burning her palms but not caring. The crackle of the flames surrounded her, as did the scorching temperature. The bread crumbs clinging to her skin browned up as her flesh roasted beneath the layer, internal organs roasting within her. Huethea’s screams slackened off into desperate wheezing as the scent of her cooking flesh surrounded her. The pain permeated her body, muscles tightening as the heat ravaged her.
Outside of the oven, only a pair of drow remained behind to make sure the baker didn’t escape her fate. They chewed at the freshly baked loaves of bread while they waited, enjoying the aroma wafting out of the occupied oven. When enough time had passed, they pulled the oven door open. A thick cloud of steam escaped the inner cavern. As it dissipated, the drow were treated to the sight of Huethea’s well-cooked meat-loaf. They carefully slid the body out of the oven and back to the prep table, eager to enjoy some meat alongside their bread.
Tanulia Omaleth did her best to protect her daughter from the drow soldiers, but there was little she could do to stop them. She was no fighter. Her efforts were valiant, but ultimately only worked against her. The soldiers decided she was too feisty and just a little too old to make an appropriate slave. She kept on struggling, yelling at the drow to leave her daughter alone, as she was forced onto her knees amidst a group of them. The front of Tanulia’s dress was torn open, freeing her breasts. She shuddered with disgust as the soldiers pulled their stiff meat free of their pants, gathering around her to smack their erections against her face and tits. Tanulia stared defiantly up at her abusers. “Do what you will to me,” she growled. “I will not submit until you guarantee my daughter’s safety.”
The drow laughed in response. One of them grabbed hold of the woman by her chin. “Looks like this whore needs a personality adjustment,” he growled, gripping her face firmly as he angled his member towards her left eye.
Her stubborn fury cracked, becoming sudden fear. She tried to pull away, muttered something about being willing to give them what they wanted. But her shift in tactics came too late. The drow jerked his hips forward, bashing against Tanulia’s eye. Her arms came up, smacking and shoving against the soldier’s thighs. She let out a high- pitched shriek as her eye popped, allowing the man to invade the socket. He clung to her head, humping hard into her until – with the snap of bone – he plunged his rigid length into the elf’s brain. A muscular spasm shot through Tanulia’s body, her fingers fumbling at the soldier’s legs as blood trickled down her twitching cheek. Her arms slumped to her sides, occasionally jerking about as the soldier sheathed himself fully into her soft brain.
Anarzee sobbed for her mother, watching in horror as Tanulia’s body shuddered around the cock in her head. Merethyl watched the gruesome skull-fucking in silence, too exhausted and too traumatized to feel much of anything. She’d been stripped alongside her friend and two other elf women. Thaciona Quitumal – a farmer who had a plot of land near Merethyl’s family – and Lythienne Rolen – the small town’s priestess. They’d been lined up, forced onto their hands and knees, while a discussion amongst the soldiers took place to decide whether they were worth keeping as slaves. Merethyl’s face scrunched up, wondering where her would-be suitor – Vulmar – was, desperately hoping that he might be able to save her from this nightmare before she lost her virginity to the merciless cocks of the drow soldiers.
Vulmar Naetris was in the midst of his own ordeal.
He was one of only a handful of elf males in the town that had been allowed to live beyond a few seconds. The only thing that had saved him from a prompt slaughter was the cruel sadism of the drow soldiers who’d found him making a bold but fruitless attempt to keep his younger sister – Naexi – safe from the invasion. The drow offered him a chance to live, ordering him to fuck his sister.
He stared at Naexi’s small, perky breasts and firm buttocks, trying to imagine they belonged to someone else. The terror eating away at him was strong, but he managed to jerk his cock to a stiff state. The drow shoved Naexi onto her hands and knees before him, forcing her to lift her ass in Vulmar’s direction. The shame he felt wasn’t strong enough to beat back his fear. The young male took up position behind his sister, clutching at her slender hips as he guided his barely firm erection towards her bared slit. He pushed into her slowly, muttering apologies to her softly sobbing form and feeling even more shame as his cock surged to a fully erect state from the sensation of her warm, tight pussy walls wrapping around him.
He pushed aside the revulsion he felt at committing the perverse act, willingly himself to believe the drow were being genuine in their offer. It was easier to thrust into Naexi’s clenching cunt with the thought that it was the only way he could keep them safe. No one would have to know what they’d done to save themselves. He closed his eyes, even tried to block out the whimpers Naexi let out as he sped his thrusts. The longer he fucked her, the easier it was for him to give in and enjoy the act for what it was. He grunted, humping against Naexi, even leaning forward to slip his arms around his sister and clutch at her dangling tits. Vulmar groaned, his balls swollen with cum, cock twitching within Naexi’s snatch as he neared his release.
The drow had been quite explicit with their demands, as well as their lack of patience. He pounded into his sister faster, eager to get off, but no longer just to secure their safety. He cried out, muscles snapping tense, as his cum erupted into his sister’s spasming pussy. The ecstasy that rushed through him was unlike any he’d felt before, intensified by the taboo nature of the sex. The pleasure ended abruptly. Vulmar grunted as the drow soldier shoved the sword through the young man’s back. He stared down in shock at the bloody blade sliding through his chest. He tilted his head back, staring up at the soldier with confusion.
The drow grinned down at the mortally wounded male. “You elves really are depraved,” he muttered, ripping his sword free from Vulmar’s body. He grabbed the dying elf by the throat and yanked his limp form away from the cowering female. His still rigid prick popped free from Naexi’s cunt, leaking the last of his seed across her quivering buttocks before he was tossed aside. The rest of the drow soldiers converged on the sobbing young woman, ready to plunder each of her holes. She was young, subservient. She’d make an excellent slave. Vulmar’s dying eyes fixed on his sister, watching her rough violations with a tickle of jealousy before his last breath wheeze past his lips.
Some form of decision had been agreed upon concerning the fates of Merethyl and the three others cowering in the town square, but the stunned young elf was too distracted by the horrors surrounding her to have heard it. Tanulia’s corpse was still twitching, jizz leaking from her gory eye socket as a fresh drow soldier violated her ass. Anarzee was sobbing loudly, occasionally calling out her mother’s name.
The sight of the matronly elf killed and violated so carelessly stung Merethyl almost as badly as it did her friend. Tanulia had been like a second mother to her. Having not spotted any sign of her own mother or sister, she could only assume they’d been killed back at her home. Merethyl was beginning to wish she’d remained with them. She had no desire to die, but she thought it would have been at least somewhat better to be killed sooner than risk the slow butchering at the hands of the soldiers, or – even worse – prolonged enslavement.
A blend of strained gurgles and breathless whimpering permeated the air. Merethyl’s dazed eyes moved from Tanulia’s carcass to the source of the sounds. Shandalar Grenala. She was roughly the same age as Merethyl. The two had been bitter rivals, each of them vying for Vulmar’s attention. Merethyl recalled fantasizing about a number of terrible fates for the bitch, but now that one of those fates was transpiring before her, she no longer felt very good about it.
Shandalar dangled at the end of a noose, the main attraction for the soldiers gathered around her. They’d decided to play a bit of a game with her, to determine if she’d become their slave or just another corpse littering the town streets. She was forced to endure the slow hanging, struggling for each breath as soldiers moved up to have some fun with her lower holes. Shandalar clung to each new rapist, curling her long legs around their waist to lessen the tension around her throat. The soldiers fucked her vigorously, none of them lasting long inside her. A steady flow of cum drained from her stretched holes, down her kicking legs as she hung after each fucking she received. Shandalar was proving she had a good supply of stamina, but Merethyl wasn’t sure how much longer the woman would last. Her struggles were beginning to slacken, and the number of drow interested in fucking her was slimming down.
Thaciona let out a sudden groan of discomfort, drawing Merethyl’s attention away from her rival. A drow had taken position behind her and was feeding his massive erection into her cunt. The farmer cringed, head shoved to the ground as the soldier plunged his full length into her, starting up a steady rhythm of thrusts. On the other side of her, the priestess let out a loud scream as she was skewered with her own length of drow cock-meat.
Merethyl’s breath quickened, shivers of terror creeping through her body as she realized the time had finally come. Tears swelled in her eyes as she heard Anarzee’s strained voice call out from just beside her, once again begging her dead mother to save her as she took her first drow cock. Merethyl burst into tears as the tip of an erection teased across the soft folds of her pussy, prepared to hammer into her and steal her virginity. “P-please,” she whimpered, finally finding her voice. She twisted her head to the side, looking up at the drow preparing to rape her. “Not like this.”
The drow grinned back at her, gripping a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back as he sank the first couple inches of his dick into her. Merethyl shrieked, eyes bulging as she was penetrated, feeling the strain in her body as the male pressed roughly against her hymen. A dark chuckle passed the man’s lips as he felt her virginity. His hands tightened on her and his hips bucked forward, slamming the remaining length of his prick into Merethyl and destroying her maidenhood. She was only mildly relieved when the drow released his hold on her hair, allowing her to lower her head, squeeze her eyes shut, and try to block out the foul sensations of his cock pumping into her aching sex.
With Shandalar gurgling her way to the end of her lengthy demise, the drow soldiers turned their attention to the four elves lined up nearby. Other females were being put in chains, ferried off into a loose group. They were the ones deemed worthy of becoming slaves. There were no living male elves left in the town, their butchered bodies covering the streets or sprawled within the town’s various structures.
There weren’t quite as many female corpses, but those were at least receiving the perverse attentions of the drow. Even Mhoryga’s impaled carcass was not spared, her clothing cut away so that soldiers could take turns fucking her undamaged asshole. Huethea’s leftovers were hauled out and passed around as mid-day snacks as the orgy of rape continued.
Merethyl quickly lost track of what it meant to be a virgin. The drows used her just like they’d used so many of the other women in her town, with little regard for her as a sentient being, simply a series of pleasant holes to fill. She didn’t have the strength or courage to fight back after seeing what became of the women who attempted it. The day dragged on, sounds of debauchery assaulting her ears. It became hard for her to determine whether the fleshy slaps she heard came from the thrusts invading her body, or one of the women on either side of her. There was no relief, no end to the assault, just the painful twisting and turning of her body to take a fresh rapist. But mostly, Merethyl – as well as the others – remained on their hands and knees. It was a convenient, all-purpose pose, keeping their mouths, cunts, and asses vulnerable to attack.
When the sun finally set, drenching the devastated town in torchlight shadows, Merethyl felt a portion of her mind splinter at the realization that the endless stream of atrocities committed upon her had taken less than a day. The memory of awaking early, happy, content, in her home seemed like a lifetime ago.
It was sometime during the night, as the orgy was winding down, that the decision made regarding Merethyl and the others became clear. Thaciona was dispatched first. The farmer groaned weakly as her head was yanked back, barely conscious from the hours of rape until the dagger was brought up against her throat. She let out a startled gasp that became a wet sputter as the blade carved deeply into her flesh. A gush of blood erupted from her sliced throat, body rocking steadily as her killer continued to ride her upraised ass.
Shock and panic shot into Merethyl as she watched the woman shuddering and dying so close to her. She heard the priestess let out a terrified yell, turned just in time to watch the dagger slash through her neck. Her breath quickened, staring in horror at the gruesome display. “Mother, please,” Anarzee whined, drawing Merethyl’s attention back to her friend. The drow soldier was fucking her cunt hard, dagger held firmly against the smooth skin of the young elf’s throat. He carved into her slowly, opening her veins and severing her tendons with cruel precision. Blood sprayed from Anarzee’s lips, drained down her neck to cling to her heaving tits. She was shoved to the ground, head turned to face Merethyl as her life drained out of her rapidly. Wet gurgles surrounded her as the trio of raped companions she’d spent the majority of the day with died around her, used up slabs of fuck-flesh being disposed of with no regard.
The will to live flared up within Merethyl with starting speed. She found a strength she’d not known she possessed, bucking back against the dick inside her with enough force to knock the drow away from her. She scrambled forward, unaware of her heavy sobs as she managed to get her legs beneath her and rise to her feet. She didn’t look back, charging ahead into the night. She saw soldiers darting for her and ducked away from them. She had no plan beyond simply escaping. If she was cut down or shot full of arrows during her attempt, she didn’t care. The surge of adrenaline and panic blinded Merethyl, kept her moving. When she got clear of the group of soldiers, she went back to running, legs pumping hard, sobs following after her as she charged into the darkness, somehow managing to escape the nightmare that had come crashing down on her little town.
Perched atop their Riding Lizards on a nearby hill, Irae and Nimor watched the young elf girl’s frantic escape from the village. Merethyl’s luck had been anything but. The soldiers had been given special instructions regarding the girl. She’d made her daring dash a little sooner than Irae had expected, but the soldiers had done a good job of merely attempting to recapture her before she made it out of the town. The farming village meant nothing to the drow. Even as a foothold into elven territory, it was a poor choice, offering little strategic value. Which was exactly what Irae and Nimor intended the elven rulers to think when Merethyl arrived to spread news of the attack. It would play well to the elven sense of superiority. They would, no doubt, mount some form of counter-attack, likely a rescue mission for the slaves the young elf had seen being taken. When the elf army came, the drow would be ready for them. It was all going according to plan.