Thanks for reading! Me and my cowriter Darinost are slowly combining blogs and comment sections, so feel free to join us all on discord to discuss stories!
This was done for me as a gift by Lea. It takes place in the Mists of Avalon, sometime around the time period of Finding Avalon.
Heart pounding in her chest and in her ears. The sound was almost loud enough to drown out the horridenous sounds that came out of the speakers… almost… What she couldn’t hear, she could feel in the pounding of the air and against her nerves. It was supposed to be music but it was nothing calm, enchanting, or natural about it.
The air whipped around her, her body falling rapidly through the air as she reached an almost frightening speed in free fall. The fall had started nearly at the top of the branches of the tall tree, if she struck the ground it would have been devastating. Feeling the silk running through her loose fingers, her fingers twitched with awareness. The ground was quickly approaching, she knew it would be an unforgiving surface. The flashing lights gave the ground an ominous coloring. Faster… faster… faster…
Suddenly her hands closed around those silk strands. Her body stopped its downward fall, twisting her hips to ease to momentum instead of jerking to a sudden stop. With strong muscles, her body used the momentum to change the direction of her body. Twisting, turning, hoisting herself upward. Launching her body into a dizzying spin, legs closed, moving faster and faster. Legs spreading again before swinging forward and transferring to another set of silks.
Lithe body climbing easily up the lengths of the silk before letting herself fall again, or spin, or become wrapped in the silk. The white silk made a stark contrast on her verde skin tone as she danced among the branches of the tree and the long silks that hung low.
Utterly naked of clothes or covering, her body on perfect display for the patrons of the club below. The only thing she was permitted to cover herself with was the collar around her throat that was never removed. There were sparkles and glitter that shone in the roving lights that lit the space. Patterns to further highlight her feminine body and entice the audience in attendance.
Time blurred in this place, less dependant on the rising or setting of the sun to mark the passage of the day. Instead time was marked by “opened” with an audience, or “closed” which only seemed to come after everyone was beyond exhausted and utterly used up. There were no seasons to mark the years, maybe that was best. It was hard to consider how many seasons… how many years… She had been here.
It was still early in the “Open” time, although she only knew that because she hadn’t been summoned down from the trees yet. Lilacia tried not to think about what the rest of the evening would eventually bring. The early hours were for entertainment, at least for her. To put on these displays of what her body could do. To twist among the silk threads as if it was effortless. Dance in the open air above the island and water that made up the centerpiece of The Mists of Avalon.
If she was lucky… she would have hours of this dance before someone came for her… Maybe luck didn’t have much to do with it, Lilacia had perfected her art relentlessly over the years… and decades. Perfected this show, this routine to be as distracting and as satisfying as she possibly could to keep her feet far from the ground. She didn’t do it for the art, or the audience. Lilacia did it to avoid the audience. It wasn’t an avoidance, she knew that, this was only a delay. A delay that would save her skin and tree for a few hours while other women’s bodies were used.
Lilacia was uncertain if time flew by or not, the flash of the lights signalling her down out of the tree. Not daring to take long. No one would come up after her, but they had other ways to persuade her to come down and play. Turning her body into a lazy swing, her eyes swept over the other trees to confirm the other dryads were gone. They too had been summoned away from their trees out to the floor of the club and balconies.
Dryads that were sent away from their trees were the lucky ones, even if it didn’t feel like it in the moment. To say it, it seemed like a wrong contradiction to explain until one lived in that moment. It was uncomfortable to move some distance away from their tree, every instinct saying they shouldn’t be going past the roots.
The alternative was staying with their tree and their tree becoming part of the torture.
Easing her hold, Lilacia fell slowly toward the ground. Eyes sweeping the island, she could already see a group standing below awaiting her. With trepidation, her eyes flickered to a spot on her tree. A spot that was over five feet from the ground, a metal ring that had been driven into the trunk of the tree. Lilacia tried not to think about that spot, but she was always aware of it in the back of her mind, she always felt it as if that spike was driven into her throat instead of the tree trunk.
Lilacia’s feet didn’t even touch the ground, one of the men was there, his hands sliding up her hips to catch her under her arms. Letting the silk slip through her hands, she had resisted before and knew it only brought bad things. Eyes flickering at the men, she amended that thought, it only brought worse things.
In an easy motion the man had her at the base of her tree, Lilacia wished she didn’t know what for. Another man was grabbing her wrists and pulling them to the ring in the tree. The cuffs around her wrists easily snapped in place through the ring, forcing her body to stretch out against her tree. She knew she needed to stand up, if she tugged on the ring, she would feel the pull through her own connection with her tree. The ring was uncomfortable enough without adding pressure and pulling.
Facing the men, there was no conversation, no words exchanged as one stepped forward with a wicked looking cat-o-nine tails. A soft desperately useless sound escaped Lilacia’s lips before the whip came down over her breast. Screaming out as her body arched and jerked. The sound was still echoing in her head when the whip came down again, missing her body and striking the tree behind her. Another violent scream escaping her lips as she felt the strike through her connection with her tree. The leather of the whips would not damage her tree, the bark was too strong for that. It just hurt her as if it had struck her body instead, nerves lighting up painfully.
Another strike to her body. Then another. One strike for her tree. The pace of the strikes picked up. Coming faster in rapid succession against her. The others joined in with whips of their own, taking turns to strike her flesh and to strike the tree behind her. Lilacia’s body jerked violently over and over again as her body was brutalized and stimulated. Lilacia was bleeding from where the leather tore at her skin, not red blood like humans or mammals. It also did not run as easily as human blood. Instead it welled and dripped slow like tree sap. The whip was leather, not iron, so her body would heal and heal without a scar. It just hurt like hell right now. Uncertain if it got worse as the whips became wet with blood, or if it was just her imagination
Despite her best attempts to stand, she eventually lost her footing as the strength left her body, mostly hanging from the spike in her tree. As the strikes came slower a hazy wish passed through her addled mind, that they were losing interest in her. It was a short wish as she felt burns searing her. The smell of wood burning, not flesh, was the first indication that her tree was being burned with cigars as some of the men caught their breath with a smoke and drink. The pain was just as real to her flesh as if it wasn’t her tree taking the damage. Screaming and writhing desperately in her bonds, helpless to stop them or save herself.
Body twisting as she felt a sudden sharp pain. The familiar pain, she knew it was a knife against the bark of her tree. She also knew it wouldn’t last long. Must be someone new to dryads. Oh knives hurt and they cut, but they took work. It was harder to cut into the three than it was to strike the tree with heavy whips or burn the tree with cigarettes and cigars. Frustration and the lack of visible progress always lead the man to take the knife directly to her flesh instead. Few men had the strength to do more than scratch against the bark.
Someone poured their glass of liquor on her skin and open cuts causing a new level of burning sensations. There was laughter all around her. Then someone’s mouth on her skin, lapping at the liquid mixing with her blood. The feeling of the mouth was followed by the feeling of teeth biting into her sensitive flesh. She didn’t think they broke skin, just enough to make her yelp and squirm.
Hands grabbing her thighs made her blink her eyes open. Had she closed her eyes? She didn’t remember. Here at the base of her tree, above the roots, her awareness and senses were different. Both her and her tree were aware of the smell of the smoke, by now her tree equated such smells to danger. Releasing it’s own scent of distress as if to warn other plants and nearby trees of the danger. The smoke bothered Lilacia’s noise even as her tree absorbed in the carbon dioxide for breath. Her ears were aware of the sound of the men, but her tree was aware of every footstep, every movement, every vibration.
A soft sound escaped Lilacia’s lips as the hands moved further up her legs, pulling her off the ground and stretching her body in the air. His body between her thighs, a sudden jolt and his cock was inside of her exposed pussy. Crying out as her body arched in mid air. Eyes wide as she stared down her body where his body met hers.
Gasping, trying to process the feeling, to breath through the violation… pain exploded through her body. No, not her body, but that of her tree. Someone had resumed striking her tree with the whips and she felt every blow. Despite herself, her body jerked and twisted in the air. Virtually riding the cock inside of her, the man needing to do little but hold her hips even as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Every strike causes her body to tense, making him feel larger and harder inside of her.
One man inside of her. Two men inside of her. Three men, the smell of cum mingling with sweat and alcohol. Another penetration among the dozens and dozens of other pains. The taste of cum on her tongue. The smell of the men mingling together is almost indistinguishable.
Head reeling in the pain as the whips resumed their brutal pace. Tearing into her flesh and mind. With the flickering and changing lights, she hardly noticed that it was her vision that was flickering and fading as well. The music in the club had previously seemed annoying, it became more and more unbearable as the bass seemed to cause her body and wounds to throb in time with the beat. The sensations running together till she didn’t know if she was feeling the music or the pounding of her own heart.
Awareness of the club was slowly fading, it didn’t diminish the pain or throbbing. Completely aware of each strike, each thump, each burn until oblivion swallowed her awareness completely.