This is an especially brutal story, filled with torture, rape, and snuff. Be sure this is a thing you want to read before continuing.
With the majority of their military forces dead or captured, the pathetic defensive line left in the city crumbled before the might of the drow army. The city’s walls were compromised in minutes, the chaos flooding through the streets. Irae allowed the soldiers to largely do what they liked, maintaining her strongest fighting force in a push towards the heart of the city, to where the castle was located. She’d already received word that King Tarron and Queen Gaelira were trapped within the castle’s walls, fighting alongside a meager assortment of guards and soldiers who’d been spared from the failed rescue mission and the initial assault on the city. She traced a leisurely route through the battle-torn city, admiring the sights as she worked her way towards the castle.
The first gruesomely perverse act that caught Irae’s eye was that of a young elven soldier. Alanis Ralororis had fled when the drow assault showed signs of overwhelming the city. She’d not made it far, expertly stricken by a skilled archer as she’d attempted to duck into a barn. Two arrows pierced her, one for each of her shoulder blades, leaving her helplessly pinned to the barn door. She’d been left to suffer there until the drow soldiers had caught up to her, tearing away her pants and taking turns ramming their way up her ass. By the look of things, Irae assumed the elf’s ass had to be quite the pleasant orifice, judging by the small queue that had formed behind her. Alanis’s shrieks of pain and shame poured out of her as her hot blood soaked into the wooden door.
Syllana’s reanimated head hung from Irae’s belt, watching through half-glazed eyes at the destruction and terror being delivered to the beautiful city she’d grown up in. The dead general’s brain was barely capable of thought, but something deep within her psyche was able to connect the images she was seeing with the hazy memories lurking within her skull. Tears trickled down her cheeks as her mouth opened and closed, screaming silently at the misery she witnessed. The deeper Irae rode into the city, the more of it she saw. Her fighting instincts screamed for her to take action, to rush to the aid of the helpless civilians being slaughtered and raped. Syllana’s dulled, undead brain had a tough time recognizing that she no longer possessed a body. She could only watch and suffer as the atrocities taking place before her grew in number.
The next point of interest Irae came upon brought a smile of amusement to her lips. She slowed her reptilian mount, reaching down to angle Syllana’s head so her resurrected victim had a clear view of the action. Kythaela Balkrana had been on her way to the market, planning on buying up a supply of food for the coming week. Getting to the market early offered the best variety of options and being well into her pregnancy, she’d found herself waking in the early hours of the morning frequently. Her swollen belly, layered in sweat and cum, remained firm, although she could feel the panicked movements of the life within as she was mercilessly stuffed full of drow cock. Her milk-heavy breasts jiggled with each stroke she took, both cunt and ass stretched around cruel girths. Kythaela’s screams were muffled, vibrating against the cheeks of the drow soldier who’d settled his ass over her face, enjoying the feel of the woman’s lips against his sphincter. Hating herself more than a little, the pregnant elf extended her tongue, willingly lapping across the orifice pressed so firmly against her mouth in a desperate attempt to earn her life and, by proxy, the life of her unborn child.
Nimor met Irae on route to the castle. “The temple has fallen,” he informed her as he handed over a blackened head. “Their high priestess.” Irae nodded her approval, working her dark powers on the new head and returning it to the same twisted half-life as Syllana. “I took three of the priestesses as prisoners. They’ll make excellent slaves. The rest are dead.”
“Splendid,” Irae commended him. “And your other task?”
Nimor grinned. “It was almost too easy. For all their pride, these elves are proving to be quite the pathetic race. When their overconfidence isn’t enough, they seem to fall into an idiotic panic.”
His point was proven a moment later as Dessielle Iarcyne stumbled out into the road. The soldier’s clothing hung from her thoroughly abused body in badly stained tatters. Her eyes were gone, reduced to gory pits leaking tears of cum. She wailed as she waved her arms about blindly, seeking some kind of escape from her dark hell. It came soon enough as a startled horse charged down the street, knocking Dessielle to the ground. The stallion’s heavy hooves pulverized her flesh, punching gouges through her skin before a back hoof came down on her sobbing face, smashing her skull into a gooey paste. The horse escaped down a side street, leaving behind the elf soldier’s twitching remains.
She directed her eight-legged lizard towards the stables on the street outside the castle. The horses still in here were all dead by now, turned into carrion to feed drow mounts. Irae dismounted, stroking the side of her beloved lizard Kaelissa’s face warmly as she ignored the screams of suffering elves all around her. “Now stay here, sweet thing,” she said, showing him more compassion in that moment than she had shown a single member of the doomed race she had engineered the downfall of.
She guided him towards one of the stalls, and chuckled at what she found. One of the stablehands must have fled into her. Face down in a pile of horseshit, she had been staked to the ground with horseshoe nails through her palms and fingers, her calves and feet… laying with her ass in the air and dripping cum from her lower holes. The soldiers that had swept through here had left her alive when they finished with her. Maybe they thought the disgusting toilet of a woman would have made a good slave.
Irae didn’t care. Nimor leaned back, watching with a smile as Irae guided Kaelissa into the stable. “For you,” she whispered into her lizards ears… and the monster made a joyful sound as he climbed on top of the staked down, weeping elf. She had already begun to scream before the High Priestess closed the gate, and she wasn’t sure if it was his cock or his teeth making her do it. She would feel both before much longer.
The two architects of this conquest strode side by side to the site of its conclusion. The sounds of rape and slaughter gave way to those of frantic combat as Irae and Nimor neared the castle. The forward most spearhead of the drow forces had gotten there ahead of them, but weren’t having much luck breaching the castle’s walls. The small contingent of elf soldiers defending the castle were clearly some of the most skilled warriors the kingdom had left, but it was the aid of the king and queen that gave them enough of an edge to beat back the drow soldiers. The rulers had been forced into a tower along the front of the castle’s walls, their elevated position giving them a much needed strategic advantage. But even so, the battle had clearly come to a stalemate. As more of the drow forces converged on the castle, it would only be a matter of time before they took the place by force.
King Tarron and Queen Gaelira were both potent magic wielders, but even they had their limits. Tarron was older with shoulder length white hair and a thick beard. Gaelira was certainly matronly, but she’d maintained her beauty throughout the years and four pregnancies. Her long, thick main of vibrant red hair fluttered around her head as she whipped from side to side, flinging wads of flame and bolts of lightning beside her husband. Tarron’s advanced years had him out of breath and drenched in sweat before his wife began to show much fatigue. Still, while his body grew weak, his will remained strong. Stepping up onto the ledge of the tower, daring the drow archers to pick him off, he glared down at the enemy troops, calling out to them.
“You may win this day,” he bellowed. “But your kind will never truly defeat us. Our lineage will live on, grow strong, and drive you back beneath the ground where you belong. But even that will not be enough punishment for the acts you’ve committed. This will mark the end of drow kind. Perhaps not today, in this city, but you will pay for these atrocities. Mark my words! You will not destroy our legacy!”
Irae reached to her side, loosening the knot she’d made out of Syllana’s hair to keep the living head attached to her belt. The hair was the same vibrant shade of red as her mother. Irae liked the color quite a bit. It was the color of fresh blood. She gripped a fistful of that hair once the knot was undone and hefted Syllana’s head up, towards the tower where the king and queen were defending themselves. Keeping it lifted, she strode closer so that they could see what had become of their eldest daughter. Defeated in battle, killed like a worthless commoner. That fate was enough to shock them. But what had been done afterwards, Syllana’s partial resurrection, forced to go on living trapped in only her head… Irae drank up the looks of horror Syllana’s parents displayed, unable to keep the grin from her face. The longer they looked, the more they noticed. Like how there was no sign of recognition in Syllana’s eyes as they fixed upon Tarron and Gaelira. When she had brought her back, she hadn’t restored the elf general’s memory of them. It had been Irae’s special means of taking their daughter from them in a far more crippling way.
“Your eldest daughter’s fate is certainly sad,” Nimor called out. “But you had to suspect such a thing when she didn’t return from the mission you sent her on.” He reached over to trace his fingers across Syllana’s cheek. “And besides, she was a soldier. Soldiers risk a violent death. Your pampered son, the heir to your throne, on the other hand. He should be miles away by now, safe outside the city with his two twin sisters.”
With a wave of his hand, Nimor ushered his squad of assassins forward. Elincia and Elasha, the twin princesses, were tugged along, shrieking and sobbing, and presented to the king and queen. The assassin leading the group handed a bloody burlap sack over to Nimor. He reached into the sack, feeling around before securing a firm grip on the object within, drawing it out with a sudden jerk. Gaelira let loose a horrified scream as her emerald eyes fixed on her son’s severed head, face frozen in horrified pain, as it was held up for her. Nimor chuckled and tossed Prince Rychell’s head over to Irae. “So much for that legacy you were talking about.”
Irae ran her fingers across Rychell’s face, hooking her thumbs into the sides of his mouth and forcing his slackened face into a sickening smile. She plied her necromantic trade on the lump of dead flesh and bone, returning the young man to a fully aware consciousness alongside a crisp remembrance of his short life, right up until the bloody end. Her eyes lit up with glee as she watched Rychell try to scream. Lifting the head, making sure the king and queen could see, she puckered her lips and brought them to the prince’s severed esophagus, expelling her air through him to aid him in his quest to express his horror. The scream poured from his stretched lips like an eerie, haunting whistle.
Gaelira clung to her husband’s side, tears pouring down her face as she stared in horror at what had become of two of her children. Her eyes shifted to the only offspring she had left, her twin daughters. Elincia and Elasha did not have the same striking crimson hair that their mother and older sister possessed. Theirs was fairer, like their brother and father’s. They were virtually indistinguishable from one another, identical down to the most minute detail. The only true difference between them was only revealed when the sisters were hastily stripped of their clothing. Elincia’s crotch was devoid of hair, the smooth lips of her cunt on full display between her slender thighs. Elasha possessed a narrow strip of blonde pubic hair.
In a matter of moments, the sisters had another thing in common; a hard drow cock slamming into their dry cunts. Their sobs intensified, screaming for their parents to save them. The drow soldiers showed them no mercy, eagerly fucking them with cruel strokes, reaching around to squeeze their tits, tug at their nipples. There were plenty of erect men waiting to take a turn with their royal flesh, gathering around them, making them the centerpiece of the atrocities taking place across the city. “Enjoy the show,” Nimor called up to Tarron and Gaelira with a wide grin. “We are.”
Bent over at the waist, Elasha’s upturned face stared up at her parents, constricted with misery. Her sight of them was obscured as another drow stepped in front of her, gripped her hair, and forced her mouth to take his throbbing flesh. She gagged immediately around his girth as he stabbed forcefully against the back of her throat. The member pounding her from behind swelled within her aching snatch as her rapist clung to her hips, yanking her crotch back against him. The horror of it all threatened to steal her sanity. She’d lived a privileged life of pampering and care. The worst thing she’d ever had to personally face had been the day she’d heard one of the guards whispering about how they thought Elincia was the more attractive of the twins. But she’d certainly gotten her revenge on the man, pretending to be her sister to lure him into a secret and forbidden sexual fling. She’d revealed her true identity to him as his cum had been cooling on her breasts before having him arrested for daring to touch a member of the royal family.
The worst thing Elincia had ever had to deal with, prior to the drow invasion, had been some lightly undercooked meat at dinner one evening, although the sudden arrest of a guard she’d been flirting with frequently had come a close second. Comparatively, being ruthlessly violated by enemy soldiers ranked far higher than either of those events. She screamed for her father to save her as she was forced further down, onto her hands and knees, until her mouth was plugged with drow cock just like her sister’s. She yelped around the thick prick as the man raping her from behind smacked her ass, leaving a glowing red handprint across the pale flesh of her perky cheek. His thrusts intensified, coming to a sudden stop as he plunged his full length into her and filled her royal cunt with his creamy load.
With their daughters suffering down below, Tarron and Gaelira could not risk using their longer-range magical powers. Their meager fighting force wasn’t nearly enough to achieve anything, but they saw no choice but to do anything they could to save their remaining children. The attack was as desperate as it could be. Even knowing they were doomed, the remaining elf soldiers pushed hard. They even managed to do some damage with the king and queen backing them up. But Irae had planned for their final assault. Taking the brunt of their attacks, fresh soldiers pushed ahead over the bodies of their fallen comrades while others moved around the small group of elves, surrounding them completely. Every mage and priest they had was here to blunt the magic of the sorcerer royalty, suppressing them as much as possible… making them weak and vulnerable. Then the drow, their care of casualties suppressed by the lusts for the queen and her retinue, closed the circle until they’d claimed their prize. The remaining male soldiers were killed outright, along with a couple of the more violent women. The rest, along with Tarron and Gaelira, were subdued and secured.
The city of Soleila, heart of the elven kingdom, had fallen. The time had come for the drow to truly have some fun.
After capturing the king and queen and taking the castle, Irae allowed her troops to continue spreading through the city to have their fun and exterminate or capture every elf they encountered. She was far from finished with the royal family, but she had enough patience to wait a night for a proper execution to be planned. The next morning shone fresh light on the atrocities taking place throughout Soleila, as well as the freshly constructed stage just outside of the castle. While the bulk of the army continued to pillage and rape their way through the streets and buildings throughout the city, a crowd gathered at the front of the castle as cheers rang out to announce their victory and their excitement for the forthcoming festivities. The crowd was made up mostly of drow soldiers, but a number of the servant races enlisted for the invasion mingled amongst them. Orcs and goblins and a troll or two, lumbering around, eager to claim a piece of royal meat. With only three pieces to go around there was far more demand than there was supply. Irae and Nimor made it clear the trio were meant to last, at least for a while, so outright destructive partners were dissuaded from taking a usage.
Turot was not pleased to discover that he was not allowed to violate either of the princesses. The ogre took out his frustration on the nearest fuckable morsel he laid eyes on. Unfortunately for Lusserina Xyrqen, she was that morsel. It brought her streak of good fortune to a gruesome end. She’d managed to avoid being enlisted for the doomed rescue party and had been posted near enough to the castle to retreat within its fortified walls before the invasion had reached her, lending her services to defending the king and queen until they’d launched their final, foolish drive to save Elincia and Elasha. Even that assault had left her surprisingly unharmed, much to the delight of the drow soldiers who’d snatched her up, tearing at her clothes and ramming fleshy things into her vulnerable holes. The night in the castle’s dungeon had been long and hard, filled with an endless stream of rapes that had stopped only briefly as she’d been led out alongside the other prisoners that morning. The drow currently taking advantage of her were knocked aside roughly as Turot slid his fingers under her back and pulled her onto unsteady feet. The young elf had a moment to scream as the battering ram of a cock bashed into her mouth, knocking several of her teeth loose and snapping her jaw. With a wet squelch, the ogre rammed further, punching through the back of Lusserina’s head. Her body fell into spastic convulsions as Turot forced his member through her head. Gripping her shoulder, he shoved downward, tearing the elf soldier’s head off. He closed his fingers around her severed head, sliding it back and forth along his erection while her twitching body resumed its previous role as plaything for the drow soldiers.
Chamylla Perlana had been a loyal servant of the royal family her whole life. Her father had died before her birth, her mother during her birth. King Tarron had taken her in as a newborn and she’d grown up alongside Prince Rychell. She’d been a large baby and had grown into a large woman, tall even by elf standards and – thanks to extensive training and exercise – covered with well-toned muscles. She could go toe-to-toe with an orc – and had – without breaking a sweat. When the invasion had come and the city walls had been breached, Tarron and Gaelira had tasked her with getting their children out of Soleila. But the drow menace had seemed to know the city’s most secret passages better than she did. The guards she’d taken with her had been slaughtered. And despite her best efforts, she’d had to watch – horrified – as Rychell’s head had been taken from his body.
The worst thing about her failure was that she’d lived. The ambush had happened so fast that she’d not had a chance to throw herself in front of the royal children or fight back with enough zeal to secure a quick death. An obsidian-skinned assassin had snuck up behind her, cracking her over the back of the head and felling her powerful form in a single blow. The bindings holding her wrists at her back were strong and tight. They’d kept her restrained securely for the return trip to the castle. She’d had to watch the king and queen who’d been like parents to her stirred into rushing to their own doom. Chamylla had been fairly certain she could snap the ropes binding her if she flexed hard enough, but the guilt crushing down on her was too strong for her to try. Whatever terrible acts the drow and their disgusting minions delivered to her, she deserved it. Remarkably, she’d gone untouched as the king and queen were taken captive, as well as throughout the night. But now that a new day had come, she was nothing more than an object to provide entertainment and pleasure for the victors.
Hands moved over her body, tugging and tearing her clothes open, running along her firm breasts and over her distinct abs. They gripped her tight ass and hooked into her crotch to finger her hairless cunt. She could sense how powerful the drow felt as they roughly groped her strong flesh, knowing they had ultimate control over her. Chamylla let them have their fun, offering no resistance as she was bent over and had her firm buttocks pried apart. She winced as the first drow cock forced its way up her unlubricated asshole, the pain minimal compared to the screams of terror and pain she heard from the twin princesses. She felt their suffering as if it were her own.
Elincia and Elasha were exclusive party favors for the celebration. They were on either side of the stage, wrists restrained, as a queue of higher level drow soldiers took turns having their fun with the siblings. The princesses hadn’t slept a wink during the night, their time fully occupied by an endless stream of rapists moving into and out of their cell, fucking them roughly as their parents were forced to watch and listen from the adjacent cell. They were too pampered to have anything close to a fighting spirit, offering no resistance to their abusers, but seeming to have no shortage of sobs and screams. They utterly absorbed in their own misery, not even noticing as their mother and father were forced out onto the stage.
The rowdy crowd cheered as King Tarron and Queen Gaelira appeared. They’d been fully stripped after their capture, bound in manacles and magic-nullifying collars. They were left standing towards the front of the stage, trophies on display, as the handful of female guards and soldiers who’d stood alongside them the previous day were ferried out and forced into the crowd to keep the aroused throng satisfied. The women were dispersed relatively evenly among the attendees, becoming the center point of small circles of debauchery amongst the horde. They were used roughly, the message clear that none of them were expected to last beyond the execution ceremony.
With everything in place, Irae strutted out onto the stage. Her pale albino skin contrasted against the revealing black leather she wore. The outfit showed nothing truly intimate, but it came close. The top lifted and pushed her breasts together, showing off her cleavage and leaving her midriff bare. Her bottom was a leather miniskirt that came down just past her crotch, the thong underneath barely concealing her labial folds. Gloves that stretched up to her elbows and boots at reached her knees completed her ensemble, making her a seductively intimidating figure. Reaching the front of the stage, Irae settled into a confident pose and addressed her audience.
“For too long, the elves have kept us down. But it seems they’ve grossly underestimated our resolve, our desire for revenge. They blindly fed their army into our clutches. They left their precious capital city woefully under defended. We came for a war, and they gave us a slaughter.” She grinned with excitement. “I like slaughters.” She extended her hands, motioning to the two royal captives on either side of her. “We have their king. We have their queen. We’ve killed their general daughter. We’ve killed their only male heir. And we’ve only just gotten started. A thousand years from now, our people will look back on this day with veneration because it will mark our first major victory in our strive to eradicate this elven menace from the face of our world. They will never take this city back from us. They will never take another thing from us. From this point forward, we will be the ones who take from them. And we shall take everything.” She bathed in the wild applause from the crowd, the rising horror in the elves present for her speech. “Let the executions commence.”
Neither king nor queen were to be killed quickly. They had so much suffering to offer first. The audience had little interest in seeing Tarron abused. He was left as little more than a bystander, his suffering caused by being forced to watch his wife and daughters suffer without being able to do anything to stop it. Gaelira was brought down to her knees, a pose of supplication to start things off as the men specially selected to violate her gathered around her. Three drow and an orc, chosen for their self-control and the size of their cocks – ranging from ten to fourteen inches in length and all of them punishingly thick. If the queen had ever even seen a prick other than her husband’s, it certainly didn’t show on her disgusted face as her eyes scanned across the four erections aimed at her face. Even with half her children dead, her people being raped and slaughtered, and her kingdom fallen, Gaelira still seemed to have a sense of superiority. By the end, it would be long gone.
The queen’s quartet of abusers had all proved themselves to be valuable assets, certainly worthy of the privilege of tormenting the enemy ruler. Pharin Auvryervs and Jhalnet Argistyn had gained a fair amount of notoriety during the rebellion of Menzoberranzan, breaking the drow women who’d been deemed worthy enough to keep around as slaves and breeding stock. Their methods were extreme, but effective, not only in reducing the women to willing whores but doing so in short spans of time. And all without damaging the good looks of their subjects. Gashna, the orc, was a prominent chief. His older age had tempered his innate bloodlust but left him with more than enough experience to be a ruthless military commander. The legends of the many orc females he’d managed to subdue and mate with were mostly true, proving that he had the tenacity and wisdom to handle even the strongest of mind and body. The final drow, Istonel Ichaerth, was one of Nimor’s best assassins. His mind was especially twisted, filled with perverse desires. Together, they were more than a match for Queen Gaelira, no matter how proud she was.
Pharin and Gashna closed in behind her, smacking their cocks against the back of Gaelira’s head, while Jhalnet and Istonel stepped in front of her, dragging the tips of their erections against her cheeks. The hatred and humiliation was clearly painted across the queen’s face. Istonel grabbed her hold of her jaw, forcing it open so he could push his cock past her lips, the first of what would become many unwanted penetrations. The others continued to beat her with their dicks while Istonel fucked her face. Judging by how badly she gagged around the thick member, the queen had never been a fan of orally pleasuring a male, willingly or otherwise. Irae didn’t think she learned much from her crash course in cocksucking, but it was certainly an entertaining show, watching the four men taking turns stuffing her mouth with their pricks. She managed to spit and drool the first couple of loads, leaking them across her breasts. When Gashna took his turn, he showed the queen just how good he was at bending a woman to his desires. Clutching her head against his crotch, he kept his erection lodged down her throat, forcing her to choke on him until he came. He did not release his hold on her, giving her a clear choice. Swallow or die. Amusingly, Gaelira seemed to struggle with the choice, but she finally gulped down the orc’s hot jizz and was rewarded with the ability to breathe again, left gasping and coughing.
Pulling Gaelira to her feet, they dragged her to the crossbeam erected on the stage, strapping her into a standing spread-eagle pose leaving her vulnerable at both ends. Pharin, Jhalnet, and Gashna moved up behind her while Istonel stepped in front of her and knelt, his face inches from Gaelira’s royal cunt. Her pussy lips were well hidden behind a thick patch of fiery pubic hair, but Istonel didn’t need a map to find the entrance to her body. His hands moved up the insides of her thighs, thumbs curling to push through the pubic hair and pry open her cunt. After lubing his cock up with some oils, Pharin stepped up behind Gaelira and took hold of her by the hips. He pushed the head of his erection between the cheeks of her ass, finding her sphincter and pressing firmly. The queen groaned with dismay as her ass stretched around the rapist. As she did, Istonel moved forward, extending his tongue and dragging it through the cleft of her pussy, delivering a small dose of pleasure to go alongside the shameful discomfort of having her rear fucked.
The three took turns slamming their pricks up the queen’s rear, hammering home the reality that she was theirs to toy with, while Istonel continued his oral assault on her cunt. His tongue was nimble, his lips tender. He’d developed his techniques over the course of many years, a little gift he liked to bestow on his female victims, plying them into over-pleasured slabs of trembling flesh before dealing the killing blow. And while he doubted he’d be the lucky one to take the queen’s life, his methods worked splendidly alongside the repeated anal poundings to break down her spirit, leave her sweating and moaning out with shame, getting off on her own abuse.
When he felt she was ready, Istonel slid the sickening sex toy Irae had passed him before the start of the event. The severed cock was firm, magically preserved and forced to maintain its erect state. It felt warm in his hand, but he ignored the revulsion he felt as he brought the tip of the dead dick to Gaelira’s dripping cunt. He teased her with it a little, dragging it back and forth along her hairy pussy lips. He pushed the phallus into her slowly, almost gently. A stark contrast to the vigorous fuck-thrusts the others were giving her aching asshole. Her body responded instinctively to the penetration, grinding her hips forward in an effort to feel more of the pleasant sensations radiating up through her loins and avoid the pain pounding away at her rear. Istonel grinned and fucked her with the toy a little faster, rewarding her for her behavior.
The assassin made sure Gaelira got off on the cock, several times, just as he’d been instructed. Drawing it free from her quivering snatch, Istonel rose to his feet and presented it to her, prodding it against her lips. “Suck it like a good girl,” he growled. “Or I break your jaw and jam it down your throat. Not a very noble way for a queen to die.”
Gaelira blinked the tears from her eyes, rolling her head away from the cock. “What does it matter?” she groaned.
Istonel leaned in closer, his voice becoming a low, conspiratorial whisper. “I tell you this from experience. I’ve seen women die choking on a cock. It’s not a good way to go. Very painful. Very humiliating. If I’m being perfectly honest, our only goal here is to humiliate you. You’re going to die. That can’t be avoided at this point, I’m afraid. But if you put on a good show, reveal yourself to be a weak whore for our amusement, I can promise you something of a painless death. I have poisons, fast acting ones. Your life will fade before you even know it’s happening. But you have to play along, my dear.”
The queen leveled a glare at him. “And what if I’d rather suffer?”
Istonel shrugged. “Then you’re an idiot.” He put the cock back to her lips. “If it helps any, you have a stunning taste. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Gaelira remained firm until the assassin gave a disgruntled sigh and gripped her jaw. Her resolve broke, hastily parting her lips and leaning her head forward to wrap them around the cock. Istonel grinned and held the base of the shaft, allowing her to bob her head along the length, seeing the revulsion in her eyes and the bafflement at just how life-like the sex toy was, the way it seemed to pulse with warmth. It didn’t stop her from continuing to filate the member, showing a good deal more enthusiasm than she had when she’d been on her knees such a short time ago. Her willingness to suck the cock did not save her from the forceful penetrations of the trio taking turns with her ass, but it did earn her cruel laughter and mocking insults from the watching crowd.
Seeing the queen sucking the unique cock, Irae decided it was time to have a bit of fun with the king. She tugged him forward, positioning him so that Gaelira would be able to see him. “Look at her,” she purred into the older man’s ear. “Getting fucked like some commoner. Tell me, has she ever sucked your cock with such enthusiasm? Does this turn you on?” She reached around him, stroking her gloved fingers along his drooping shaft. “It appears not.” She moved her hand away. “Well, let’s see what we can do about that, shall we?” She tugged a length of ribbon free from her skirt and pulled it up to Tarron’s face, looping it around his face so that his eyes were blocked. Tying the ribbon tightly, she left the king blind to the atrocities befalling his wife and daughters. “Does that help?” Irae asked, reaching back to give his dick another squeeze. His body responded, but the disgruntled groan he emitted said that he greatly wished it had not.
The lack of sight didn’t help Tarron in the slightest. If anything, it made the sobs of his daughters and the slurping of his wife’s mouth on the preserved cock that much louder. And it made certain portions of his body more eager to react to the sounds he heard and the touches he felt. He cursed his member from stirring under the albino bitch’s touch and breathed a sigh of relief when her fingers left him. The lack of attention was short lived. He let out a shocked gasp as chilly lips slid around the head of his cock, tongue moving to lap at him. He sprang to full hardness in moments and the mouth eased further along his length. Humiliation rolled through him as he squirmed in his bondage and cursed the drow whore for her horrid behavior.
“I’m afraid on this point, your blame is misdirected, my liege,” Irae said with a cruel smirk, reaching up to yank the blindfold away. Tarron blinked his eyes and stared at her in confusion for a few moments before looking down to see his eldest daughter’s living head happily sucking him off. Horrified revulsion hit him, bringing tears to his eyes and a wail of dismay up his throat, but none of it was enough to reduce the rigidity of his cock. He remained stiff in Syllana’s mouth as she sucked with as much skill as her reanimated flesh could muster, working diligently to get her father off. Tarron fought the sensations as best he could, but he could already feel a tension in his loins. It would not be long before he fired his cum into what remained of his dead daughter’s throat.
Gaelira’s own oral efforts faltered as she watched her husband being sucked off by Syllana’s head. An answer to a terrible question rolling about in her head fluttered just out of reach, but it was enough to dull the enthusiasm of her own sucking. Irae noticed her sudden hesitation, her grin widening. “Yes, where did that cock come from?” she asked. “It’s certainly a fresh harvest. And…” She looked from the prick in Gaelira’s mouth down to the one in Syllana’s. “Is that a familial resemblance I detect?”
Gaelira gagged hard, fought to yank her head back and push her son’s severed cock from her mouth. Irae laughed. “What’s the matter? You created that slab inside your body. What’s the harm in letting it come back for a visit?” Her face darkened. “Besides, it’s not like you really have a choice.”
King Tarron came into his daughter’s mouth as Queen Gaelira puked over his son’s prick. Two drastically different reactions, but they both greatly amused the drow invaders. Istonel pulled the prince’s dick out of Gaelira’s sputtering mouth, frowning. “Not very queenly of you, is it?” he grumbled, moving back from her bound form. The others were finished with her ass so he stepped around and wedged the soggy prick up her cum-leaking asshole, leaving it stuffed there. Gaelira wailed with horror as she felt the warm severed cock wiggling within the cramped orifice.
The king stood, sticky cock drooping again, with his eyes closed, breathing deeply and shuddering out pathetic sobs. The queen was slumped in her bondage, eyes dazed from the depraved horrors she’d been witness and victim to. Irae thought of Nimor’s comment from the previous day, regarding the fragility of elven egos. She had hoped the two leaders would provide more entertainment, but it seemed they were nothing more than overconfident weaklings, crumbling in the face of their sudden lack of power. “Well, you’ve both been lovely hosts,” she told them. “But we still have lots of work to do. Your pathetic race isn’t going to extinguish itself, after all.” She gave the signal to commence the queen’s execution. “Don’t fear, your highness… your line won’t end today. We’ll be taking both of these cumrags with us when we go. I expect we’ll breed heirs aplenty from even their stubborn, sun-cursed elf-wombs before they die.”
Koszar stepped onto the stage, thrilled at the opportunity to take part in the death of another high profile elf woman. He stepped in front of Gaelira and gave her a mocking nod. “Your highness,” he hissed. “It’s quite the honor.” His amused face turned harsh as he extended a hand towards her, unleashing a devastating blast of electricity into the queen’s bound form. Her muscles snapped tense, body quivering as a strangled scream crept up her throat. Her eyes bulged, both from the pain as well as the horror that the shocks were making her son’s severed cock go wild inside her ass. The blast cut off only seconds after it began, but even the short session of electrocution was enough to leave Gaelira’s body twitching and glistening with sweat. She slumped in her bindings, gasping for air.
King Tarron watched his wife’s extended execution with sorrow as his dead daughter’s lips smacked and slurped at his balls, his cock already returning to a state of excitement. He was utterly powerless. He could not save his beloved, he could not save his two remaining children, he couldn’t even save himself from enjoying the pleasant touch of Syllana’s mouth on his genitals. He tried to focus his hatred on the drow for their actions, but he found it difficult to find any to spare. He hated his own weakness far too much in that moment.
Koszar continued to electrocute Gaelira, increasing the length of time he prolonged the attack by a few seconds each time. Her vibrant red hair became frizzy, steam wafting from her sweaty skin as her muscles jerked against her will. Her screams soon became weak groans as her strength was sapped away, leaving her slumping in the frame, barely alive, fluttering in and out of consciousness. He gave her another quick zap before looking to Irae to confirm the queen was ready for the next stage of her execution. Irae nodded that she was before motioning for Nimor to begin the process.
Nimor flicked out a small dagger, twirling it in his hand as he approached Queen Gaelira from behind. He brought the dagger up, angling the blade towards the base of her neck. The woman released a weak groan of pain as he pushed the weapon into her flesh, cutting only as deep as he needed to. He traced a bloody line downwards, following the length of her spine down to the crack of her ass. From there, his work began more intricate. He kept his hand steady as Pharin and Gashna held her buttocks apart so he could carve down the middle of her ass, notching out the area of her cock-stuffed asshole. Reaching the bottom of her cheeks, he worked a gruesome seam down the inside of one leg before creating its twin along her opposite leg. He circled around her ankles before working his way back up the outer sides of her legs, up across her hips and ribs until he reached her armpits. He circled each of her shoulders before returning to the original point he’d made on the back of her neck.
The audience was treated to Gaelira’s rising horror and pain as Nimor began the slow, meticulous task of peeling the skin away from her back. It was a slow process, with his blade angled inwards to slice through the connective tissue attaching the skin to muscles. But the queen was not the first woman he’d performed such a task on. His skills were great enough that he had no trouble ensuring that the length of skin was flawless upon its removal, with Gaelira only slightly closer to death than she’d been at the start. When he finished, he pulled the skin upwards, displaying it before him as he stepped around the bound woman to show the cheering crowd. He turned to show the queen what her backside looked like now that it was no longer attached to her, grinning as her face managed to grow even paler at the sight. He moved to a drying rack, clipping the hide to it where it could properly dry.
With her back nothing but raw muscle and exposed bone, Nimor turned his attention to the queen’s front side. He made a few more strategic cuts in her skin to make his job easier and then began to unfurl the soft tissue. Her flawless breasts became bloody muscle, tipped with the alien-like flower petals that were her milk ducts. He snipped a hole at her belly button to avoid any unwanted tearing before finishing the upper half of her body. Ducking under the loose curtain of skin, he moved between her legs and traced a painful cut around the circumference of her labial folds, laughing as her agony caused her to piss herself. He avoided the majority of the warm spray as he finished his terrible work and slid out from under the skin, continuing to tug at it gently as he worked his way down her trembling legs. In the end, Queen Gaelira’s natural beauty only remained in her pain-stricken face. The rest of her was now a gruesome abomination, alluring to only the most devious of minds.
Even as King Tarron wept for his wife’s suffering, he leaked his cum over his dead daughter’s lustful face. And still, her urgent tongue would not stop teasing him.
Gaelira’s front skin was draped beside her back skin. After drying and curing, they would make excellent tapestries, a macabre trophy from the drow victory over the elves. The queen’s head swayed unsteadily; eyes unfocused as each gentle breeze brought her burning pain as it washed over her raw nerve endings. She was barely conscious, close to death. Koszar stepped in front of her again, fingertips already crackling with fresh electricity. He unleashed the devastating volley into Gaelira’s body, delighting in the sight of her exposed muscles flexing and twitching. This time, he did not relent, pouring the energy into her. The blood clinging to her muscles steamed away. The fat in her skinned tits boiled, squirting in hot streams from her fleshless nipples. The prince’s severed prick wiggled excitedly in her ass, adding that special sliver of humiliation right up until her very end.
As the queen’s lively gyrations became involuntary spasms, Irae pulled Syllana’s head away from Tarron’s crotch. The older elf was forced onto his knees and bent forward. Ilmdus was ready with his axe, resuming his role as executioner. He swung his weapon down hard and fast, lopping the king’s head from his shoulders. His body jerked and sprang about, dancing on the stage floor as his rigid cock throbbed, spewing one final load of unwanted jizz across the wood. Crouching beside the twitching body, Irae guided Syllana’s head to the sticky pool of cum and giggled as she happily lapped it up, swallowing it down and leaking it out of her esophagus. Gaelira was a steaming, inert corpse by the time Syllana finished cleaning her father’s final deposit.
With the king and queen dead, Irae ordered the remaining guards and soldiers left alive in the crowd back onto the stage. As the women were extricated from their brutal gang-rapes, she turned her attention to Elincia and Elasha. The twins were a stunning pair. And after the horrors they’d both witnessed and endured, she suspected they were thoroughly prepped to become obedient slaves for her empire. Killing them would bring some satisfaction, but she felt it would be even more entertaining to keep them around for a while, allow them to see what was to become of the rest of their realm, the rest of their people. She knelt down before them. “The queen is dead,” she whispered with sadistic glee to one of them, which turned out to be Elincia. “Long live the queen.”
As beautiful as they were, however, something bothered Irae… there was one aspect they lacked that demanded changing. Their golden locks were pretty enough, but she rather preferred the fiery tufts of hair Gaelira and Syllana possessed. What what she understood, the Queen of the elves traditionally always had crimson hair that burned like the sun. It was an easy problem to solve.
Ordering the sisters over to their mother’s carcass, Irae drew her own blade. She slashed open Gaelira’s belly, unleashing a gush of blood and tangled innards. Elasha was brought over first, bent over in front of her mother with a cock still pumping away in her gooey snatch. Irae guided the sobbing girl’s head into the gaping split in Gaelira’s gut, stuffing her inside. Her hands slid in along with Elasha’s head, smearing and squeezing blood into her hair, staining the follicles. When she was satisfied with the gruesome dye job, she motioned for Elasha to be pulled back and beckoned Elincia forward for a similar treatment. Both young women were left with their faces smeared with their mother’s blood, their hair stained a shade of red not too dissimilar from the locks growing from Gaelira and Syllana. A simple spell was all that was required to make the color change permanent.
The underlings were back on stage, a few of their forceful lovers brought along for the festivities. There were only four left, each of them forced onto their hands and knees in a line. Amedee Shalen, Lenna Glynnelis, Celaena Bryna, and the disgraced royal bodyguard, Chamylla Perlana. All four women were treated to a thick cock up their ass, pumping away into their loosened holes as Ilmdus moved into position. The elves were meaningless, just more fodder for the piles, undeserving of prolonged torture or a slow death. With a decisive chop, Amedee’s head went flying, rolling its way off the edge of the stage and back into the crowd where it was promptly scooped up and stuffed with cock. As her anal rapist rode out Amedee’s death spasms, Ilmdus stepped forward and lined up his next blow. Another meaty thud and Lenna’s head followed after Amedee’s.
Chamylla listened to her fellow elves dying, listened to the sobs of the princesses. Her life was over, that much was obvious, but a tickle of strength rolled back into her at the very end. She heard Celaena’s sobs end with a thunk and knew her time was rapidly diminishing. She waited, finding a calm patience as she came to a firm decision. She ignored the other sounds, listened for the swish of the oncoming axe blade. She pulled her head back suddenly, feeling the breeze of the sharp blade across her face as it embedded itself uselessly into the stage floor. Her sudden resistance caught the executioner and her rapist off guard. Chamylla used that – and her impressive muscles – to her advantage. She bucked back, knocking the man behind her out of her throbbing asshole, and sprang to her feet. The sisters were separated again. She wouldn’t have time to reach both of them, of that she was certain, so she went for Elincia, the closer of the two.
The bodyguard’s fist knocked several of Elincia’s current abuser’s teeth loose and flattened his nose. She tugged the princess into her arms, stumbling with her back towards the castle. The unexpectedness of her insane escape attempt gave her a little time. She used it for everything it was worth, putting several feet of distance between them and the drow before shoving Elincia forward. “Go!” Chamylla yelled. “Don’t stop! Don’t look back!”
Elincia was a wide-eyed, traumatized wreck, but she had enough of her mind left to obey Chamylla. She took off, fleeing back into the castle that had been her home all her life. The bodyguard doubted her efforts would do the girl much good in the long run, but she felt better having done something. That satisfaction faded as the drow soldiers caught up to her, mercilessly slashing and stabbing into her powerful flesh with their swords. She fought back against them, to the best of her ability. Even managed to land a few crippling blows to one or two of the soldiers. But even with her impressive strength, she could not survive long. Her guts spilling out of her, breasts slashed apart, one arm hanging loosely from mostly severed flesh, Chamylla collapsed to her knees, wheezing and gurgling as blood spilled from her lips. Ilmdus approached her, stepped behind her, readied his axe, and let swing. The bodyguard’s head shot into the air, riding a geyser of blood, as the rest of her flopped forward onto the stage.
A few soldiers moved to chase the escaped princess into the castle but Irae called them off. “Don’t fret,” she told them with a cruel smile. “Let her cower in there for a time. It will make it all the more amusing when we finally find her.” She reached out with her necromancy, already preparing to turn Gaelira into yet another trophy for her collecton, but smiled when she felt the signature of old, old dead nearby… elves that had been ancient when the drow that were first cast down into the darkness. The royal crypts beneath the palace contained an unbroken line of rulers from ancient times, leading from the first daughters of Corona, to those who had banished the drow, to Gaelira’s parents… right down to the princess Elincia, now running towards the palace and those crypts.
Grinning to herself, she began to raise every male ancestor she could find to a tortured half-life of undeath, her magic whispering to seek out their last free relative. “You will wish you had stayed, princess,” Irae said with a cruel smile.