This is an especially brutal story, filled with torture, rape, and snuff. Be sure this is a thing you want to read before continuing.

The morning came far too soon, but Nimor awoke feeling eager to start the new day’s work. Sliding out of the cot, he readied himself before collecting the small band of assassins that had done equally vicious work under the cover of darkness. When Koszar Nirune arrived to pass along the message that the drow army was positioned just outside the city, ready to launch their attack on the fortified walls, Nimor knew it was time for his group to move on to the next phase of their orders. The streets were still largely shrouded in shadows as they slipped out into the city, weaving their way stealthily towards their target. The Temple of Corona occupied the highest point of the city, nestled atop a narrow cliffside that overlooked the rest of the structures, even the castle. It was as remote as it could be without leaving the border, requiring a winding path to reach the isolated point. By the time they reached the temple, the morning sun hung low in the sky. From their vantage point, they could see the drow army beginning their assault.

The time to strike was now.

The assassins caught the priestesses in the midst of their morning worship, praising their goddess Corona for the light of a new day. There were nine women in total, including the High Priestess. Each of them was stunningly beautiful, rumored to be untouched by any lover, although Nimor’s experience with the priestesses from the previous night made him suspicious of that claim. None of them were fighters. The High Priestess – Ahrendue Ralozana – did her best to keep the others calm as they were herded together, but the fear was clear even in her wise eyes. The presence of the drow so deep within the city and in such a holy place made it clear that something far worse than a simple raid was going on. As the echo of the priestesses’ chanted prayers and the barked orders of the drow assassins faded away, the air was left crisp and still, allowing the distant sounds of the attack taking place in the city below to be heard.

The priestesses grouped together tightly, all of them terrified, a few of them breaking into sobs. The others were clearly eager to start having some fun with the women, but Nimor had other ideas. With such a healthy crop of sexy flesh to harvest, any of the elves would make for excellent slaves. Taking all nine women as captives would be a logistical nightmare. Besides, looks could be deceiving and even he was eager to extinguish a few more elven lives. Random selection as one way to decide who got to live and who got to die, but Nimor could think of something far more entertaining. He aimed a finger at Ahrendue. “Have your fun with that one, boys,” he told the others. “Just make sure you don’t kill her.” His eyes moved across the rest of the trembling young women. “As for the rest of you… we’re going to have ourselves a little competition. The winners earn the privilege of becoming property of the drow empire. And if that doesn’t sound like something you’d enjoy, trust me, you do not want to be a loser.”

Koszar and a few of the assassins dragged Ahrendue away from the group, ripping through her elegant gown to expose her holy flesh. They forced her against the statue of Corona dominating the front of the temple, stretching her arms back and her legs apart. She was bound securely to the statue, unable to deny the men gathered around her as their rough hands groped and smacked her tits, probed her cunt. Koszar was the first to move in to take her properly. He brought a hand up to the woman’s chest, curling his fingers as a few sparks of electricity crackled across them. His fingers touched her, forcing the energy across her skin. It wasn’t strong enough to do any damage, but it did leave her nerve endings tingling, priming her body to be broken under the oncoming sexual assaults. Ahrendue’s body jerked and shuddered against the statue, teeth clattering as Koszar entered her with slow, steady force. He smirked as the warm walls of her pussy wrapped around him, looking into the woman’s horrified eyes. “A virgin, huh? You sure don’t feel like one. You naughty bitch.”

While the most eager members of his group focused their attentions on Ahrendue, Nimor and a handful of others went about organizing the competition for the other priestesses. The women were lined up, shoulder-to-shoulder, where the men could properly admire them. At Nimor’s order, their clothing was left intact. “Why should we waste our energy stripping them?” he told his compatriots. “When a proper slave should be more than happy to strip for us.” He walked in front of the line of priestesses, eyeing each of them. “So that will be the first round of our little game. It’s a simple one. Just expose yourselves to us. But do so with some style. You’ve danced for your pathetic goddess more than enough. Now you will dance for us.”

Minuvae Fanelis was only a little younger than Ahrendue. She took her duties as a priestess just as seriously, arguably more seriously as she’d maintained her virginity, finding relief for her natural desires through prayer. It was that sense of duty that inspired her to step forward from the line of women, locking eyes with Nimor. “We do not have the physical strength to deny you anything you wish. You can rape us, slaughter us, destroy our temple. But if you think we are so pathetic that we’ll simply do whatever you demand of us, denying our beliefs and the goddess we serve for the chance that you’ll spare our lives, you are gravely mistaken. I, for one, would rather die with my purity intact than grovel at the boots of your kind of filth.”

Nimor laughed. “Well said. And what an excellent example you’re setting for your fellow priestesses.” He stepped closer to her, staring deeply into her sparkling blue eyes. “You know, I’m known as a bit of a silver-tongued devil, able to talk nearly anyone into nearly anything. But with you, I can tell any words I spent would be wasted. Your beliefs are resolute. I imagine I could go out there, hunt down whatever family you might have, and execute them in front of you, and you’d still refuse to bend. So, congratulations, you are excused from the competition.”

The drow drew his dagger and shoved it into Minuvae’s gut. He aimed low, low enough that the tip of sharpened steel became the priestess’s first and only lover, penetrating her cunt from an unorthodox angle. She gasped, eyes going wide with shock. He kept the blade embedded within her, hooking his free arm around her shoulders to hold her close as he pulled her away from the other, terrified priestesses. As she stumbled along with him, he watched her resolve crumble away, falling into pathetic sobs. “W-wait,” she moaned. “I didn’t… mean it… I can st-strip. I can dance!”

Nimor shook his head. “Too late for that.” He guided her off to the side, over to the row of intricate statues lining either side of the temple. Each one represented a hero or heroine from elven history. More than a few of the figures displayed were familiar to him due to their roles in banishing the drow to the Underworld. “You have guts,” he told her, jerking the dagger upwards suddenly. Her screams rolled over him as he withdrew the blade and reached into the deep gash he’d left behind, scooping out a tangle of her intestines. He held them up to her face. “See?”

Nimor chucked the sloppy innards over the nearest statue, defiling the display. Minuvae’s legs gave out, dropping to her knees before the man as he leaned down to rip out more of her insides. She watched, face growing pale and weakness eating away at her, as more and more of her body was taken from her and used to disgrace the noble figure presented before her. She lived long enough to feel her unused reproductive system torn out from within, shoved onto the tip of the sword the statue held. Minuvae collapsed backwards, a hollowed-out husk. Nimor ripped a portion of her clothing away, using it to wipe the blood from his hands as he turned back to the remaining priestesses. He pointed down at the corpse. “And that’s what I do to people I have a little respect for,” he told them. “Imagine what I might do to someone who truly angers me.” He extended his arms to the side. “So, are we going to see some dancing or what?”

After witnessing Minuvae’s brutal butchering, none of the priestesses valued their beliefs enough to follow in her bloody footsteps. They each fell into a series of awkward but sensuous movements, running through the moves they’d practiced to show their goddess how much they loved her. Those performances didn’t include the removal of clothing, but they managed to adjust for it without utterly ruining their rhythm. The drow assassins whistled as they revealed their exquisite flesh, offering up a number of lewd suggestions for what the women could do next to prove that they’d be good slaves. Nimor listened to the ideas, but he already had a few of his own. Things that were a good deal more creative than simply making the women bestow sexual favors upon them.

“Excellent,” Nimor declared when the priestesses finished stripping. Even fully revealed, he could see no flaws in their physique. “Your assets truly have been wasted trapped up here in this temple. I have no doubt that you all deserve to be thoroughly trained in the art of being a fuck-slave. But I suspect some of you may be hiding certain talents. Talents your calling has forced you to keep hidden. And since none of my men wish to be disappointed by an inexperienced lover, we’ll be using stand-ins for your partners during this next stage of the competition.” He motioned to the statues of prominent elven men and women. “Imagine them as flesh and blood. And then make that flesh tingle and that blood rush. Don’t be shy, ladies.”

Since she’d been a small child, Gwynnestri Olowynn had been plagued with a recurring nightmare. The fear it instilled in her had been so pervasive that it had driven her to the temple, to a life largely consisting of solitude and prayer. And even then, the nightmares had never stopped. When Nimor and his group of assassins had barged into the temple, she’d needed a few moments to realize she wasn’t dreaming this hellish encounter, too. When the reality of the drow invasion finally sank in, something deep in her mind broke. The nightmares were always the same; drow monsters coming for her, killing her painfully. Much like how Nimor had killed Minuvae only minutes earlier. The fear of suffering the fate she’d dreamed a thousand times only strengthened the fractures running through her psyche. When Nimor gave his next order, she was eager to carry it out, eager to prove she could do whatever was required of her, if only to avoid the agony her mind had conjured for her every night for as long as she could remember.

Gwynnestri charged towards the nearest statue, one of an elven maiden who – legend told – had single-handedly turned the tide of a pivotal battle during the first war with the drows. She leapt up, latching her hands onto the statue’s shoulders while hooking her legs around curvaceous marble hips. Grinding her naked cunt against the cool stone, she kissed and licked at the long-dead heroine’s smooth lips, moaning against them before lowering her head to lap at her firm breasts, perfectly sculpted and nearly fully exposed thanks to the revealing attire she’d been known to wear.

The rest of the priestesses moved to statues of their own, none of them wishing to venture to the one covered in Minuvae’s guts. Their enthusiasm ranged from over-eager – in Gwynnestri’s case – to remarkably reluctant. On the latter end of the spectrum was Glynni Kelbalar. She refrained from the crude behavior her fellow priestesses were engaging in, settling on simply dancing and lightly grinding against the statue she’d chosen. Her lackluster performance earned Nimor’s attention. “You’ll have to do better than that, girl,” he warned. “Why don’t you show us how you’d suck his cock if he were still among the living?”

Gylnni made an attempt to obey, but her reverence for the man whose statue she’d chosen was too great to overcome. “I can’t,” she finally admitted. “These icons deserve our respect and admiration. To sully ourselves on them is a crime too great for me to bear.”

Nimor sighed. “You elves and your pride.” He rolled his eyes. “You know, it’s really going to get all of you killed one of these days. In your case, this is the day.” He waved a pair of his assassins to the woman. “If she thinks so much of this slab of pretty marble, she shouldn’t mind dying on it. Let her go out fucking that lance he’s holding.”

Gylnni made a dash for the temple’s entrance, but the assassins cut her off and tugged her back to the statue she’d refused to play with. The priestess flailed and screamed, the drow laughing at her as they wrestled her resistant form along, taking every opportunity to grope her jiggling tit-flesh and smack her firm ass. They hefted her up onto their shoulders, turning her so her kicking legs faced the statue. Prying her thighs apart, they lined her crotch up with the sharp tip of the lance, inching her closer so the metal could prod at the folds of her pussy. Gylnni’s panic rose, struggling to push away from the drow holding her, but the strength of their grip was too much for her. With a hard shove, they forced the head of the lance into her sex. The priestess’s head shot up, howling out as the inner walls of her cunt were sliced into bloody ribbons.

The rest of the priestesses intensified their simulated sex acts on their respective statues as they tried their best to not listen to Gylnni’s shrieks as the drow forced more of the lance through her. Strapped to the statue of Corona with a third cock just entering her cum-greased snatch, Ahrendue wept openly as she watched another of her priestesses murdered before her while the others eagerly defiled the holy relics lining the walls of the temple. She turned her head to the side, closing her eyes tightly, so that she didn’t have to watch as the bloody tip of statue’s lance pushed free from Gylnni’s mouth. But even without seeing it, she couldn’t help hearing the pained gags and eventual death rattle that crept out of the young woman.

“That’s enough of that,” Nimor called after Gylnni was dead, left dangling on the lance impaling her from cunt to mouth. “I think we’ve seen just which of you is worthy of moving on to the next round.” He collected a bag from one of his fellow assassins and dropped it on the floor. Crouching over it, he opened the bag and retrieved several hammers, tossing them towards the priestesses. “Now that you’re finished fucking those dusty old slabs, why don’t you smash them to pieces?”

The priestesses stared at the hammers, seemingly pushed to the limits of what they were willing to do to survive. Gwynnestri was the first to scoop up one of the tools. She turned it around in her hands, looking it over, before guiding the handle down between her legs. Gripping the hammer’s head, she shoved the polished wood of the handle into her cunt, whimpering as she stared at Nimor, hoping her behavior was adequate. When she saw it wasn’t, she dragged the hammer free of her dripping snatch and looked back to the statue of the heroine she’d been molesting. Her fingers closed around the handle, tightening. With a scream of release, she charged back to the statue, hefting the hammer high and bringing it down against the statue’s firm breasts, knocking a chunk of marble free and leaving the rest of the finely crafted bosom fractured. She kept on screaming like a lunatic, slamming the hammer into the statue again and again.

Inspired by Gwynnestri’s psychotic behavior, the other priestesses gathered up the hammers. They didn’t attack the statues with nearly as much zeal as the mind-broken woman did, but they performed the task with as much efficiency as their weak muscles could muster. Nimor chuckled, watching the women work. He’d brought the hammers to destroy whatever holy relics the temple held, to demoralize the priestesses and any elves who happened upon the site afterwards. But making the women commit the destruction themselves had been far too amusing a notion to ignore. When Gwynnestri finished beating her statue down into chunks of rubble, she didn’t hesitate to rush to the one holding Glynni’s corpse. The swings of her hammer were wild, smashing marble and flesh alike. Her wild-eyed frenzy showed no signs of stopping as she smashed the dead elf’s skull open, desperate to do whatever she could to win her life.

Nimor waited until the women had finished their task. When every statue but the one of Corona was reduced to rubble, he had them return their hammers to the bag. “Well, it’s nice to see that you’re all starting to learn how this contest works. Maybe there’s no more losers to be found. But we’re far from finished.” He reached down, loosening his belt and unfastening his pants. His cock was stiff and ready as he pulled it free. Taking his lead, the drow who weren’t waiting to have their fun with Ahrendue did the same. “I think you’ve earned the right to touch us. Don’t worry. We won’t be defiling those holy cunts of yours just yet. Only your mouths. And we’ll not even do you the disservice of making you swallow our cum. We’ll be using that for the next round.”

The six naked priestesses were lined up again, forced onto their knees. Nimor stepped in front of the youngest one – Axilya Trahana. She was barely an adult, terrified of the drow but still reluctant to go through with the defilement of herself and the temple. She was young enough, her mind still open to being molded, that he’d already decided she would make an excellent slave. Unless she acted out just a little too much, her life was safe. Not that he had any intention of letting Axilya in on that piece of knowledge. He rubbed the tip of his cock against her soft lips, letting her taste the pre-cum leaking out of him, before he cradled the back of her head and guided her mouth over his cock. He didn’t make it that far in before she started to gag. The teeth he felt against the shaft of his member stung only a little bit, an unintentional reaction instead of a genuine bite. He drew back a little, letting her become accustomed to having a dick in her mouth.

Gwynnestri took the cock presented to her with enthusiasm. She lapped her tongue across the tip, smearing it with her drool, before wrapping her lips around the head, sucking hard. She brought a hand up, cradling the drow assassin’s balls and giving them a gentle squeeze. She pulled her head back, letting the erection pop free from her slurping lips. She flashed the man a psychotically slutty grin before diving back towards his crotch, choking her way fully down his firm length. She fucked her face on his cock with rapid movements, gagging and sucking as she went.

Nimor directed one of the drow men not being tended to by the priestesses to collect the sacred sun discs around the temple. The ornately designed discs were brought over and laid out on the floor, close enough to the blowjob orgy that the men could turn and fire their spunk over them in only a moment. The sun discs were kept pristine, expertly polished, to even leave a smudge on their surface was a special kind of blasphemy to the elves. To have them drenched in drow cum would be a heart-breaking blow to the priestesses spiritual beliefs. With the stage set, he went back to helping Axilya learn how to suck a man off. She was an adorable blend of inexperience, unwillingness, and terror.

Ulesse Trahana had more experience with pleasuring men orally, but her terror was two-fold. Kneeling right beside her younger sister, she slid a hand over to Axilya to take her fingers into a firm grip, reassuring her sibling in whatever small way she could. Her head bobbed in a slow, practiced rhythm, offering her drow rapist little in the way of passion. The movements may not have been as excited as Gwynnestri’s, but she was confident they would get the job done. Ulesse was committed to winning the depraved competition as long as Axilya remained alive. She could handle the burden of being a slave to the drow if it allowed her the opportunity to keep her sister breathing.

Bonaluria Cartris showed some reluctance at first, but gradually got into the act. Her mind was not fractured like Gwynnestri’s, but she had a similarly powerful desire to live, no matter what the cost. It helped that she’d had more than her fair share of secret rendezvous with lovers since becoming a priestess. Rumors regarding her promiscuous behavior ran rampant, but she’d always been careful. There was no evidence to prove she’d forsaken her vows of celibacy, so her station as a priestess had never been in danger. There was plenty of evidence now, with a drow cock wedged so deep down her throat, but it hardly mattered. None of them would be allowed to maintain their priestess roles, even if they were somehow rescued from the drow’s clutches. With the goddess Corona nowhere to be found, Bonaluria saw no reason not to do whatever she could to save herself.

The announcement that the next portion of the competition involved oral talents had filled Lusha Valthyra with relief. She’d grown quite proficient with her mouth. It was the only carnal dalliance she’d allowed herself after becoming a priestess. The way she figured, the hardest part would be to hold back enough to keep the drow male who’d stepped in front of her from popping off too quickly. She took him in with ease, despite his sizable member, and had just started her nimble tongue working along the underside of his shaft when the assassin’s hands closed around the back of her head. Lusha’s eyes bulged as the drow yanked her head forward, the thick slab of obsidian flesh sheathing snugly down her throat. The man’s thickness was enough to be a match for even her well-controlled gag reflex, but that soon became the least of Lusha’s concerns as she realized she couldn’t draw breath from around the drow’s girth.

Amisra Mirana was right beside Lusha. She noticed her choking around the drow cock, but she didn’t dare intervene. That’s what a mouth-whore like her deserves, she thought, even as she leisurely slurped at the rigid erection between her lips. The act disgusted her, but only partially due to her holy vows. Amisra had never found much appreciation for the male figure. Her stomach churned with unease as she slid her lips back and forth along the member before her. The sound of Lusha’s choking strengthened in urgency. Straining her eyes, Amisra glanced over at her fellow priestess, finding her face a bright shade of red, hands slapping wildly at her drow user’s thighs. Amisra looked up, to the face of the drow choking Lusha with his cock. She saw no sign of mercy in his eyes, only sadistic delight as he tightened his grip around the woman’s head and kept her face buried against his crotch.

Nimor noticed Lusha’s predicament, but did nothing to step in on her behalf. The priestesses had rules to obey during the competition. His fellow drow did not. All of the elf women had passed their last task. Even the reluctant ones were going through with this one. With six of them left, they still needed to cut down their number before a decision could be made on which of them would be taken as captives. An overeager libido and a desire to kill was as good a reason as any to cross one of the women out of the running. Axilya tried to pull back from his cock to look over with concern at Lusha. He let her slid back to just the tip of his dick before he placed a hand at the back of her head and gently guided her back down, reminding her that she had a task to complete.

Lusha clung to her drow user’s thighs, saliva spurting from her stretched lips as sweat dripped down her reddened face. The panic of her asphyxiation threatened to overwhelm her completely. She fought it back, struggling to employ some of her many oral techniques to get the drow off so she could catch some much needed air. But the thickness of the member plugging her throat left her with precious few options for her mouth and tongue to perform. She could only kneel there, choke and struggle, hope that the spastic convulsions of her throat would get the drow off before she expired. The passively pleased expression the drow stared down at her with told her that he was nowhere near climax. She stared up at him, tears clouding her vision as she silently pleaded with him to finish.

The urgency of Lusha’s gurgling grew louder. All of the priestesses could hear her. None of them were brave enough to try to help her, focusing on the cocks held before them and silently thankful that they weren’t being smothered themselves. Lusha’s fingernails dug into the drow’s legs, leaving behind light scratches, but not nearly doing enough damage to dissuade him from his actions. The leaden weight of fatigue and oxygen deprivation sapped away Lusha’s strength. Her hands slid away from the drow, arms slumping to her sides. Her body jerked, bulging eyes rolling back, drool-slickened tits jiggling. Even as her body began to shut down, the drow did not relent, keeping his cock pushed fully down her gullet. The spastic shudders of her choking throat finally pushed him over the edge with its random stimulation. He grunted, cumming hard into the nearly dead elf priestess. He hugged her head against his crotch, stretched lips pressing against the base of his shaft while his balls rested against her chin.

The assassin kept Lusha’s face against him even as the last his his jizz drained into her. She offered nothing more than the occasional muscular twitch, the last flickers of life slowly creeping out of her. Once those had passed, he worked his way free of her gullet and back off of her lips. Lusha’s head rolled back, mouth gaping open, eyes rolled back to show nothing but the blood-stained whites. Chuckling, the drow leaned over her, gathering up a wad of saliva and spitting it into her open mouth. He shoved her back and released his hold on her hair, letting her limp form fall to the floor. The crumpled heap of Lusha’s corpse gave off awkward twitches before a weak flow of urine trickled out of her.

Lusha’s demise seemed as good a signal for the end of the oral segment of the competition as anything else. Nimor was close enough to release, for sure. The other drow could get themselves off as needed. “Alright, well, it’s fairly obvious who the loser of this round is,” he announced, sliding his prick free from Axilya’s lips. He turned to the collection of sun discs scattered across the floor, selecting one and crouching over it as he jerked himself to the finish line. He sprayed messy streaks of cum across the disc. The other assassins followed suit, leaving all of the holy relics covered in their seed. A quick glance was all Nimor needed to confirm that the priestesses were more than a little disturbed by the defilement, with the exception of Gwynnestri who mostly just looked eager to do whatever was required of her to keep on proving she deserved to live.

“Our next game,” Nimor announced, motioning to the cum-glazed sun discs. “It’s simple. Clean the discs. With your tongues.”

Amisra’s already unsteady stomach sloshed with greater unease as Nimor’s words sank into her mind. It had taken nearly every ounce of self-control she had to take a cock into her mouth. The only thing that had saved her during that act was that it had not involved ejaculate. The male spunk disgusted her on a level far beyond the male figure. Just looking at the cum spurts layered across the sun discs had her on the verge of being sick. Watching her fellow priestesses drop onto their hands and knees and crawl over to the discs to begin licking through the creamy deposits left bile stinging the back of her throat. The only thing that got her moving, determined to get through the ordeal, was a deeply ingrained instinct for self-preservation.

By the time she reached the discs, the only one left unattended to was one of the larger ones. She whimpered, swallowed hard, and then leaned in to get started. She dragged her tongue from one end of the disc to the other, gathering up as much of the spunk as she could and gathering it into her mouth. The flavor of it soaked into her tongue for the few moments she let it rest there before swallowing it down. The slippery thickness of the goo moved down her throat and into her gut like a slug. She ignored the disgusting sensation and went back to gather more of the jizz, wanting to get through the task as quickly as possible. She was midway through her second lick when her body revolted against her. There was hardly a retch before her breakfast, bile, and the small quantity of cum she’d ingested sprayed from her lips across the defiled sun disc.

The priestesses nearest to her – Bonaluria and Axilya – jerked and scooted their discs away from the one stained by her vomit. Once they were satisfied that they wouldn’t have to lap up the woman’s bile, they returned to their perverted task. Nimor shook his head with disappointment at the young woman. “Can’t be a slave if you don’t have a strong stomach,” he informed Amisra as he reached down to grab her by the back of the neck. He yanked her up onto her feet, dragging her over to the temple’s sacred flame. The billowing plume of fire had remained blazing since the temple had been constructed, representing the never-ending flame of Corona’s blessed light overhead. Regardless of its holy purpose, the sacred flame was – in essence – just a flame, capable of all of the things any other fire was capable of. Nimor brought Amisra to her knees before the flame, forcing her to assume the pose she’d willingly taken each time she’d prayed to Corona. She prayed this time as well, whimpering out a plea to her goddess to find a way to spare her from her fate. The priestess received her answer a moment later as Nimor shoved her face into the flickering flame.

Amisra screamed as the scorching heat hit her, fire drying her lips and chasing the oxygen into her mouth and down her throat. Her skin blistered and peeled, hair igniting and burning away into glowing embers that left her scalp blackened. Her bulging eyes went blind as the flames fried her corneas, shriveling the orbs in their sockets as the fluid within them was brought to a boiling temperature within moments. The saliva in her mouth dried up and then grew damp again as the blisters coating her flopping tongue swelled and burst. Her legs kicked out behind her, hands gripping the sides of the sacred flame’s pedestal as she tried to pull back. Her beautiful features vanished as her flesh melted away, scorched lips sloshing away as smoke billowed in her gaping mouth. By the time Nimor yanked her head free from the flame, Amisra’s features had largely been burnt away, leaving behind a deformed mass of half-melted, roasted meat. He let her body drop to the floor beneath the sacred flame where she lingered between life and death, consumed by agony until the shock of her horrendous wounds finally got the better of her.

Amisra’s execution was an excellent motivator. The rest of the preistesses had their discs cleaned by the time the woman expired, nervously awaiting their next task. Nimor turned back to them with an eerie nonchalance, not even acknowledging the brutal act he’d just committed. “Such hungry whores,” he remarked as he investigated the sun discs. “Now that you’ve cleaned them, why don’t you show me how little you think of these worthless trinkets you used to cherish so dearly? A priestess would never have done what you’ve done thus far. But if you want me to believe you’ve truly given up your silly beliefs in this whore goddess you’ve chosen to worship, you should have no trouble squatting over these discs and relieving yourself. Piss all over them to show Corona just how little you think of her now that she’s forsaken you.”

The four remaining priestesses looked as exhausted and broken as they felt. None of them – not even the young, innocent Axilya – even muttered a word of protest or disgust as they moved around the sun discs, crouching over the holy relics as they reached between their spread legs to peel apart the lips of their cunts. One by one, they released sprays of piss, some stronger than others. The urine flowed across the tops of the sun discs, washing away the few smears of cum that had been missed during the tongue baths they’d given the items. The warm fluid spilled over the discs and spread across the floor, joining to create a single pool that flowed around their bare feet. The challenge didn’t take long to complete, and Nimor could see no reason to disqualify any of the priestesses, so he moved things right along to the next wicked idea he had for the women.

Nimor turned his attention to Ahrendue. The high priestess had been through quite the ordeal while he’d been testing the holy women who’d served her. Koszar had taken it upon himself to make the woman’s life a tortured hell. Raped enough times that her cunt was left swollen and leaking thick globs of spunk, she looked thoroughly broken. The drow mage had turned his attentions to inflicting pain upon her. His dark magics had already peeled the skin away from her arms, from her shoulders down to her wrists, as well as her legs, from the tops of her thighs down to her knees. Now he was using the dark forces at his command to wiggle her teeth out, one by one, leaving behind bloody sockets that drained crimson down her chin and across her perky breasts. The beauty she possessed was long gone, as was whatever purity she might have possessed when the drow invaded the temple.

The glistening raw redness of Ahrendue’s exposed muscle tissue contrasted vividly against her alabaster white skin. Her body shivered within its bindings, overwhelmed with agony, the chill of shock, and the unwanted pleasure forced through her courtesy of Koszar’s wicked magics. But out of all the physical atrocities committed upon her flesh, it was the sight of what her priestesses were becoming that dealt the strongest blow to Ahrendue’s spirit. She looked upon the group of mostly broken women, obeying the drow’s orders with little hesitation, and realized she could hardly recognize them as the preistesses she’d had so much love and respect for. Even those among her flock who’d been weak against the lures of pleasure, she’d found a way to forgive and accept them, largely because she’d failed to live up to her own vows on more than one occasion. But to see them falling to such a low, colluding with their enemy to such an extent, simply to prolong their lives, shamed her.

“Your high priestess may not be the beauty she once was, but she still deserves love, don’t you think?” Nimor remarked to the remaining priestesses. “Why don’t you show her how much you love her? Eat her messy snatch. If you can get her off, all the better, but even if you can’t, don’t worry. You won’t be punished. Much.” As the women got to their feet, he guided them into a single-file line. He let Gwynnestri go first. She certainly was the most eager. Bonaluria stood behind her, followed by Ulesse, and finally Axilya. Nimor was unsure how the youngest priestess would handle the task and he wanted to set her up to easily pass, even if her effort was lacking. He had no need to conceal the fact that he was rigging the game in her favor, but it made the competition more entertaining.

Gwynnestri grabbed hold of Ahrendue’s skinless thighs without any concern for the pain it caused the woman. She leaned closer to the high priestess’s crotch, breathing in the pungent aroma of her musk, drow cum, sweat, and blood. Gwynnestri mashed her lips against Ahrendue’s gooey cunt, driving her tongue deep into the older elf’s folds. She lapped up the jizz leaking out of her, clearing a path to her swollen labial folds and rigid clitoris. Her movements were frantic but attentive, delivering as much pleasure into the bound high priestess as she could over as short a period of time. Koszar leant some assistance, pumping some more electricity into Ahrendue’s body, using it to massage and tease her most sensitive regions. Gwynnestri purred as she felt the crackle of the power across her damp tongue, shoving her face harder against Ahrendue’s quivering body and wiggling her nose against the stiff bud of the woman’s clit until she was rewarded with a flow of cunt honey into her eager mouth.

Ahrendue’s head swam as Gwynnestri stepped away from her. The pain and pleasure coursing through her had her on the verge of collapse. She blinked slowly, eyelids too heavy to keep open for long as Bonaluria moved up to take her turn. The high priestess shook her head, wincing and groaning as the woman’s lips pressed against her sex. She desperately wanted to call out, beg the priestesses to deny the drow monsters, to face their deaths with some form of dignity. But her throat didn’t want to work, her mind so clouded with suffering that she had little desire to fight the pleasant rush that the tongue exploring her pussy brought forth, no matter how hypocritical it was. Her head slumped forward, falling into pathetic sobs as Bonaluria made way for Ulesse to have a go at her. There was nothing to be done. She’d failed her duties as a high priestess, failed her goddess, and – most importantly – had failed her priestesses. Now all she was good for was suffering, and being used.

Nimor was impressed when Axilya’s turn came. The young woman did not hesitate as she moved in front of Ahrendue. Her oral exploration of the high priestess’s snatch was not nearly as thorough or spirited as the women who’d gone before her, but it showed promise. She seemed to have little in the way of a rebellious spirit, merely the uncertainty that came with youth and inexperience. In time, she would become a glorious whore servant. Nimor gave some serious thought to taking her for himself, but there was still too much left for him to attend to. Both within the temple, as well as in the invasion of the elven kingdom. Perhaps once the invasion was finished, if she’d not gotten completely used up or killed off by then, he’d track her down and claim her. But for now, he needed to finish the little competition he’d put into motion.

“You’ve all impressed me,” Nimor told them. “So willing, even eager, to commit blasphemous acts upon these grounds you consider so holy. I think you’ll all make excellent slaves.” A smile crept across his face. “There’s just one last, little task I’d like you to perform for me. Now that you’ve all had a taste of your high priestess, why don’t you have a taste of each other?” He pointed to Gwynnestri and Bonaluria. “You two.” And then Axilya and Ulesse. “And you two. Make it steamy. I want to feel the love.”

Gwynnestri practically tackled Bonaluria to the floor, planting feverish kisses across her lips and throat as her hands explored her fellow priestess’s body. Bonaluria went along with it, reciprocating with less passion but still doing enough to show that she was willing to follow orders. Axilya glanced nervously at her sister, seemingly open to the experience. Ulesse very much was not. Her brow furrowed, glancing from the pair of elves fingering and kissing each other on the floor, to her sister, to Nimor. “You… you don’t understand,” she whimpered, on the verge of panic. “I can’t. Not with her. She’s my sister.”

Nimor chuckled. “Well, now that you’ve told me that, I’m afraid I must insist you fuck her. It adds a delightful spice to the whole scenario.”

Ulesse blinked the tears from her eyes, trembling with terror. “You can’t do this! I’ll do anything else for you, but not this! Not my sister!”

Nimor’s smile faded, face growing stern. “Looks like we have one more loser in the bunch after all.”

Ulesse flinched as he moved towards her, almost ran, but instead fixed her sad, terrified gaze on Axilya. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, shrieking as Nimor laid his strong hands upon her. She struggled out of panic more than with any true intent to escape him, knowing such a thing was unlikely. He dragged her back towards the entrance of the temple where a small fountain bubbled its blessed water endlessly. Bending Ulesse over the rim, he plunged her face into the bowl, locking his arm muscles to keep her flailing form in place. Her plump buttocks bounced against his crotch, unintentionally rubbing against his erection. As he waited for the air trapped in her lungs to grow stale, he decided to relieve a bit of the tension he felt. He adjusted himself and pushed into Ulesse from behind, the tight fleshy walls of her cunt going wild around him. Her hands pressed against the rim of the fountain, flexing her weak muscles to push her face out of the water. When that failed, she went to swinging her limbs about, splashing through the holy water and stretching back to smack Nimor across his arms.

Nimor matched her spastic gyrations as he fucked her, giving her the added mental torment of feeling as if she were willingly grinding into him as he murdered her. He saw the first expulsion of air from her lips as a flurry of bubbles burst across the sloshing surface of the water around the sides of her face. He rammed into her harder, her convulsions massaging every inch of his prick. Keeping her head held firmly, he worked his free arm around her, reaching up to grab at her rippling tit-flesh. Another burst of bubbles escaped her as his fingers latched onto her nipple and gave it a cruel twist. Ulesse’s struggles intensified before loosing all sense of rhythm, transforming into out of control flailing as she began to suck the holy water into her oxygen-starved lungs. He slowed the pumping of his hips as the priestess’s movements grew sluggish, fading away as she finished drowning. When she was nothing but an inert slab draped over the fountain, he gave her a few more hard thrusts before letting his cum fire off into her dead snatch.

Releasing his hold on Ulesse and drawing free from her, Nimor stepped away from the dead priestess. She remained perched over the fountain for a few moments until her legs gave out, dragging her lifeless husk to the ground. Her legs bent under her, dropping her into a squat before her back arched, head rolling back as she fell backwards. Her face – frozen in horror – stared towards the ceiling, holy water draining from her gaping mouth. Axilya stared at her sister’s body, chest heaving as she edged close to a full-blown panic attack. She glanced nervously from the body to Nimor to Bonaluria and Gwynnestri, unsure of what to do now that her partner for the competition was dead.

Nimor looked over the trio of remaining priestesses. A mind-broken whore, a still-sane but willing whore, and a virgin primed to become a whore. They each possessed their own uniqueness and he doubted they’d cause much trouble being transported back behind the drow lines of attack. “I think we have our winners,” he announced. “You’ve all proven yourselves to be of the quality and mentality we’re looking to recruit. If you continue to behave properly, you can look forward to long lives of being abused and made to serve your drow masters. It may not sound very glamorous, but…” He motioned to the various bodies of dead priestesses littering the temple. “It’s certainly better than the alternative.”

With the competition over, Nimor allowed his assassins to enjoy the spoils. He was quick to claim Axilya for himself, pulling her off to the side as the others forced themselves on Bonaluria and Gwynnestri. Even the dead priestesses were not spared from the celebratory post-competition orgy. Ahrendue was left suspended from the statue of Corona, forced to watch as the women she’d led in prayer for so long were defiled in a variety of perverse ways. Gwynnestri continued to prove her talents, sandwiched between two drow assassins with a cock buried in each of her lower holes. She bobbed her head along the length of a third cock, while stroking off two more with her hands. Bonaluria was forced onto her hands and knees, one drow taking her cunt roughly from behind while the other fucked her face. The drow who’d smothered Lusha to death with his erection went back for more, sliding into her gooey gullet to resume his forceful thrusts. Ulesse had her long legs pulled into the air, body resting on her shoulders as a pair of drow angled their dicks into her from above.

“You’ve not had any sexual experience before today, have you?” Nimor asked Axilya. He saw a spark of nervousness in her eyes, but the way her cheeks blushed in response to the question gave him all the information he needed before she sheepishly shook her head. He grinned. “A true virgin priestess. You’ll sell for quite the fortune. Don’t worry, none of these men will claim your purity. And neither will I. Not this day.” He tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Of course, that doesn’t mean you’re exempt from this celebration.”

Twisting Axilya away from him, Nimor bent her over. As his hands moved over her smooth, flawless flesh, his cock returned to a fully erect state. He spat into his palm, lathering his shaft with saliva before prying the young elf’s small buttocks apart. His fingers slid through the crack of her ass, fingering more spit into her virgin ass. Even his fingers had a tough time getting into the orifice, but the vice-like grip only encouraged him. When both hole and rod were thoroughly slickened, he guided the head of his prick to her rear and began to work his way into her. It took a good deal of effort and although Axilya did not do anything to resist him, she couldn’t help the pained whines from pouring out of her. It took Nimor several long minutes before he managed to squeeze the full length of his member into the virgin priestess’s ass. Taking hold of her scrawny shoulders, he gave her a rough anal pounding, treating her no differently than he’d have treated any other whore. Her purity made her only so special, and Nimor knew that no buyer would care if the girl’s anal virginity remained intact.

By the time the orgy came to an end, none of the priestesses – living or dead – had been spared from repeated violation. Nimor was impressed by what a talented cocksucker Axilya had become after such a short period of time. But as nice as it had felt to be the first man to ever blast a load up her beautifully tight ass and as stunning as she looked with his seed painted across her cute, youthful face, there were other matters to attend to. Specifically, the execution of Ahrendue Ralozana. The high priestess had suffered gloriously, witnessed the fall of her temple, the defilement of her priestesses. But the time had come to be done with her. And Koszar had a brilliantly sadistic and hilariously ironic means of carrying out the woman’s death.

Set into the wall above the entrance to the temple was a large, stained glass window depicting the goddess Corona. The temple had been constructed so that the morning sun shone through the stained glass, sending tinted beams of light into the place of worship. The mage wielded his magic, augmenting the glass to catch the light and focus it into stronger beams that cut across the temple and hit Ahrendue’s bared flesh. The high priestess squirmed as fresh discomfort radiated across her, the beams of light heating her skin. The squirming became wild thrashing as the heat intensified, burning into her. She shrieked through her bloody, toothless gums, eyes bulging as her bodily fluids were brought to a boiling temperature, cooking her from within. Smoke rose up the back of her throat, leaked from her nostrils and ears. The skin that remained attached to her body grew tight, blackening and cracking as she was roasted into a thoroughly well-done slab of meat. Her screams faded into a whistle as the superheated oxygen left in her roasted lungs left her. Her charred body locked into a rictus of tightened tendons and heat-shrunk skin as her smoky eyes stared up at the stained-glass visage of her goddess, silently begging for an answer to why she’d been made to suffer so terribly despite her loyal servitude.

Corona did not make an appearance within her defiled temple, but Nimor and the other drow fell into a hushed silence as their god, Vhaerun, casually strolled through the temple entrance. Vhaerun paid them no attention as they dropped to one knee, supplicating themselves before the god. He hardly even glanced at the broken priestesses, or even the smoking body of Ahrendue. His eyes remained fixed on the statue of Corona, his size growing with each step he took towards the idol. He pulled his cock free as he moved, stroking it to firmness by the time he reached the statue, tall enough to take easy aim at Corona’s marble face. He masturbated before the temple’s centerpiece, taking all the time he liked. When he finally came, his jizz erupted from his throbbing shaft in heavy spurts, soaking the statue’s face and pouring down its immaculately sculpted bust, sizzling as it flowed across Ahrendue’s still hot corpse. As he finished draining his balls, he tucked himself away and turned from the defiled statue, exiting without a word to his followers as he shrank back to a more average size.

The god didn’t need to say a word. His appearance alone had been enough to cement the drow’s resolve and destroy the will of the three priestesses left alive in the temple. Once Vhaerun was gone, Nimor knew their work was finished within the temple. He drew his dagger and climbed the spunk-soaked statue, carving away Ahrendue’s roasted head. It would make an excellent addition to Irae’s collection of resurrected trophies.

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