Happy Birthday Mallory!
Thank you for reading! Me and my coauthor Darinost are gradually combining forces and blogs, so the joint comment section for our stories is currently located on discord! Come on in and let us know what you thought, we don’t bite.
Diana lay on the ground, watching as men gathered around her. “Would you look at that whore?” one of them said, laughing to himself. He had the same kinds of tattoos as Oran did creeping up his arm, the exact same actually. “She’s the one who killed our man in the city?”
“That’s the bitch,” another, more raggedy one said. Diana vaguely remembered him… one of the thugs from beneath the market.
One of the others – another, she noted, with the exact same tattoos – growled as he reached down and grabbed hold of a fistful of her hair. He lifted her up and pulled her away, dragging her through the group of men. “Go ahead and give her a feel!” he spat as he moved between the surging mob. Hands reached out to grab and grope; and soon, pinch, clutch, squeeze, twist, and slap as she was dragged through the audience, her breasts taking the worst of the abuse. Before anyone could get their hands between her legs, however, the big man had pulled her through, her pale, creamy flesh turned a flushed pink from the men’s attention. He pressed her against the table, pinning the chained paladin in place there with his body. “She killed Rylas and Septus too,” he snarled. “Almost got me, as well. You killed some good men, slut.”
If Diana were less exhausted, she would have thought about that more… she was pretty sure she had never seen this man before in her life. Instead, she just narrowed her eyes and spat in his face. “I only take issue with the words “good” and “men” there,” she said. “You pat-”
Midway through her words, his fist smashed into the side of her face, rocking her head back with a gasp of astonishment. Her brain felt like it was ringing in her skull, her hearing buzzed, and her vision swam, but she could still see it as Oran walked up besides the man who had hit her. ““That was unprofessional,” he said, his voice chillingly blank and clearly directed to the other tattooed man behind him, not to the bruised paladin. “Remember, she’s mine… you are a guest here, for now. Keep your fists in check, Tellan.”
Tellan looked like he was going to snarl back, but after a second or two he seemed to shrink. “Yes, your holiness,” he said.
Then Oran smiled. “When you hit her, be sure to hit her below the neck.” He drove his fist between her spread thighs, punching her right in the pussy he had just finished raping. Her eyes went wide, and a cry of equal parts pain, shock, and outrage exploded past her full, parted lips. “Of course, if you only want to slap her…” The dark haired elf struck her across the face again but this time with an open hand, first forehand, then backhand. “… then I’m hardly one to cry foul.”
“You disgusting cowards,” Diana murmured, words slipping past a split lip, “I knew you people were detestable pieces of human excrement, but I never realized how bad the smell would be.”
“There are all matter of things you never realized about the world, paladin,” he returned, backing away from the Aasimar. “But you’ll have days and days to find out.” He looked back. “Tellan, you captured her… I think it’s only fair I yield the stage and let you go first.”
Tellan nodded, his glare looking as though it could cut throats. “Gladly,” he said, and without releasing her hair he pulled back and slammed his right fist into the muscle of her thigh. The impact made her go numb for an instant before it started throbbing, hitting her right at a pressure point and making her leg go rigid with agony. “You know what a mace feels like, bitch?” he snapped.
His fist hammered into the same spot again, and Diana’s mouth opened in a pain gag. “I wish I could show you how what you did to my friends felt like.” His knuckles smashed into her muscle again, and around her some of the other thugs shouted out approval. “But I only have my two hands, you self-righteous cunt.”
Four, five, six times he punched the restrained paladin’s thigh in the same spot as she writhed and shook where she was pinned against the table. She tried to squirm away and make him miss but another pair of men grabbed the muscular woman, holding her still as she was battered. Finally she let out a small cry, making one of the men laugh. “That’s a start,” he remarked.
“Yeah,” snarled Tellan, “but only a start.”
“Well, I think we can find one or two ways to let her make amends,” another tattooed man said.
“And let out some frustration,” said another, one the thugs, as his hand reached out to cup one of her breasts. She glared at the man touching her, wishing furiously to rip his throat out with her teeth if she had to.
Tellan lifted her into the air, letting her dangling by her hair alone for a moment before he slammed her body down on a table, hard. She tried to kick at the huge man as he pushed her legs apart, and he responded with another brutal punch to her thigh, eliciting a shriek. Her legs parted, leaving her neatly trimmed pubic hair and her rose-petal labia bare, stained with virgin blood and cum from her previous rape. “Animals!” she screamed, “Don’t you dare-!”
Two men held her shoulders and wrists down, still chained together, and Tellan grabbed her hips and pulled them to the edge of the table. Her body bucked as he shoved two fingers into her violated cunt, forming a painful hook inside her ravaged hole and using it to dredge out the sticky wad of Oran’s semen, spilling it onto the floor. “You aren’t good enough to have one of our babies, whore,” he spat, “and I don’t want some cum making this any easier for you.”
As he opened his pants Diana clasped her legs shut, lifting and twisting her body on the table, trying to resist. Not again, not again, not again… Tellan’s hands, however, twisted her lower body straight and began to pry her thighs apart, thumbnails pressing into the marks from his punches until she began to moan in pain, her body shaking involuntarily. She shuddered and strained, and for a second it looked like she might be able to resist him… but then his tattoo began to glow blood red. The redness spread down his arm and with it his might increased dramatically. The blood… the demons! Her eyes popped wide in shock as her strength finally gave way. Her legs fell open, and in that moment, Tellan was on her, pressing in close.
“Do her, Tellan!” one of the men in the audience bellowed.
“Fuck her ’til she breaks!”
“Bust that gash to tatters!”
She continued to fight every moment as Tellan moved the head of his cock to her pussy, twisting and bucking. “You monster,” she hissed. “It was you… it was you!”
“That’s right, bitch,” he spat, the bloody coloring receding as his hands pushed down on her pelvis. “I broke your wrist… now I’m going to break in your cunt!”
He jerked his hips forward, and despite herself Diana couldn’t keep from screaming. “Nooo!” she cried out as he tore his way into her already ravaged body, his dick feeling like a knife as the large man, the man who somehow was the demon from earlier, thrust into her. The room exploded with cheers as the muscular human pulled back and began to surge into the restrained paladin’s body, and now she could feel the same surge of dark power that had accompanied each of Oran’s thrusts coming off the monster in waves.
The men holding her shoulders reached out to grab Diana’s galloping tits as she wobbled with each thrust, squeezing hard as Tellan thrust mercilessly into her cunt. A third man clustering around her table raked his nails over her ribs and belly as they hitched with her breathing, her lurching breaths desperately trying to control the pain of her second rape. Each thrust of dick, scratch of nails, or squeeze of breasts sent her flinching in a different direction, and Diana looked like she was having a spasm on the table.
“Is this Aasimar cunt?” Tellan snarled, spitting into the paladin’s face. “Because it feels just like any other whore’s to me!”
“Yeah! Make the bitch pay!” one of the men at her shoulders growled, twisting her nipple until she bared her teeth, the cords in her neck sharp against her soft alabaster skin.
The table rattled as Tellan drove into her shaking body, driven on with a lust raised to a bonfire by the furious desire to make her suffer. Diana tried to be strong, tried to tell herself that Dillen was already sending for help and a rescue, that she was suffering no worse than any of the other women this cult had taken, but she couldn’t contain the occasional scream as she was abused.
The only mercy was that at least he came quickly, driven by the furious and violent pace. That didn’t mean it was easy, however; the men at her shoulders had to push back to keep her from sliding backwards on the table, driven by the hammer blows of the big man’s hip, and the last thrusts that brought on his climax delivered a full measure of his violence on her helpless, athletic frame.
Tellan pulled out all at once, and the way he pulled out hurt at least as much as any of his slams into her; she shuddered as if he had withdrawn a weapon from a wound. Just as he had before, his fingers stabbed into her and raked her out, adding more to the sticky mess already beginning to gather on the floor. “Who’s next with this whore?”
The man standing next to her hip held up a hand as Tellan stepped back, demanding the men holding her shoulders keep their place. “I am,” he said. There were a few odd protests, but he ignored them, quickly walking around the table to Diana’s lower body.
“Get away from me!” the Aasimar growled as Tellan’s spittle slid down her cheek and into one eye, making her squeeze it shut. She tried to hold her legs together, but her strength was waning, and Tellan, impatient to have another man inside her, grabbed her knee and lent assistance, and then he was inside her as well. “Aaagh!”
“You like that? Huh? You like that, you little bitch?” he spat. “Bounce those titties for me, slut! Bounce them high and give daddy a show!” He slammed his hips forward like he was trying to go right through.
“B-Bastard!” she cursed as she was rocked. Both of her nipples were between two pinching fingers, held stationary while her body rocked with each thrust, pulling at her tits without them needing to do anything, and her insides felt like they were on fire. “You… monsters…”
“Aw, call me a monster again, bitch! I love hearing that from one of you righteous cunts… almost as much as I like reaming out your worthless fucking holes!”
Diana turned her head away, staring off into the distance, looking away from him. It only made him fuck her harder, savoring every wince and stifled moan all the more. It was a tiny mercy, at least, that his senses weren’t punishing her even more than the rape was – the aura of darkness around him was present, showing her just as clearly as his brutal use of her body that he was a man who delighted in cruelty, but it lacked the sharp, agonizing sense of power that the first two men had had. The nameless rapist was bouncing against her like a rabbit, a friction-raising crescendo, when he finally came. He followed Tellan’s example in jamming his fingers into her when he came and spilling his seed on the floor. Then he was gone, and another man took his place.
The next man was quiet, but mean. He wanted to drive agonizing cramps through her, and had the cock to accomplish that task. He pulled out slow and came back hard, driving into her to the hilt and grinding his hips against her pelvis, pummeling her cervix. Her green eyes were wide with pain as her belly hitched inward with each thrust, holding her breath, struggling not to let the nauseating pain overcome her.
His fingers dug into her hips, and he began to fuck her harder and faster. To her shame, she started to let out soft cries, unable to get past the hurt he was inflicting inside of her without some kind of release. When he was finished, he pulled out and jerked his semen over her stomach and thighs.
“Turn her over,” growled the next man.
The men holding her began to turn her onto her belly. Diana bucked on the table, catching the man who had spoken in the chin with her knee. The watching men laughed raucously at their companion as, steaming, he came back to the table and slammed an elbow into her stomach. Her breath exploded from her in an agonized rush, and she doubled up helplessly, gasping for air. Grabbing her cuffed wrist while she was ragdoll limp, he helped the others get her onto the table on her front, her feet on the floor. Her wings jutted awkwardly from her back now, and as two men clustered around to grab them and hold them up, two others worked to uncuff the paladin, drag her arms behind her back instead of in front of her, and slap them back into the irons.
“What does this bitch deserve?” the man asked, his voice a snarl.
“Up the ass!” someone among the onlookers yelled.
Diana’s eyes widened. “Wait…”
“UP THE ASS! UP THE ASS! UP THE ASS!” the crowd echoed.
“I’m not sure if there will be any room with the stick she has wedged up there,” sneered the man, pulling her shapely buttocks apart. “Oh, empty. Must have pulled it out. With how stiff it was, wonder if there’s any tightness left…”
“Stop!” she said, panicked. “You can’t!” He pushed the head of his cock into the cleft of her heart-shaped ass, and pushed. Diana thrashed violently, panicking, fighting with everything she had while four other men kept her held down. The pressure on her sphincter kept building as he pushed, shoving forward, trying to get inside her in the most unnatural way.
The man pulled back, and pushed again. And pushed again. And pushed again. “C’mon… C’mon, you fucking slut, give it up!”
Her fists clenched behind her back, her jaw rigid as she tensed, fighting back with everything he had… moaning in pain as the pressure kept growing. The man’s hand smacked down on her ass with a ringing slap. And another. And another. And he pushed…
“UP THE ASS! UP THE ASS!”
Then another man started slapping her ass. And another wrapped his hand around her neck and squeezing. And another slapped the small of her back. And he pushed, and he pushed… “Take it in, take it in, whore… I can wait all night for this!”
“UP THE ASS!”
Someone slammed his fist against her hip, and he pushed…
“UP THE ASS!”
…And as Diana let out a scream loud enough to wake dead gods, Tam penetrated her ass in a slow, burning, vengeful violation, hissing out a long, savory “yesssss!” as he did and the crowd roared in approval.
Diana felt it as his cock sank deeper and deeper, shoving into her bowels as he wrapped her around his prick like a sheath. The tight entrance to her ass felt like it was on fire as it stretched taut around him, feeling all of her being stretched and invaded. “Hold the goddamn table,” her rapist said. “I’m going to make this bitch a part of it.” And he started hammering forward.
Shallow, shallow, deep, shallow, shallow, deep, He forced his way into her agonized rear entry… deeper with every third stroke, with just enough time between to dread each burning, churning thrust further into her guts. Shallow, shallow, deep, shallow, shallow, deep, while her hands clenched and opened, convulsively, marking time as he sodomized her.
And finally, his hips smacked against her aching bottom, and then there was only deep… and hard.
They held the table, and he bruised the front of her thighs against it, slamming into her like she was a punching bag. Bouncing her ass as he bored his way into her asshole. His fist twisted in her ponytail, dragging her upper body upright as he continued to smash into her agonized bottom. “She really is still tight,” he spat as he kept fucking her. “I guess that stick wasn’t as thick as I thought, no?”
A tear slipped down her cheek as the crowd behind her laughed. He slapped her ass again, and again, and more tears slipped from her eyes, to her shame. Then he slammed her down against the table, and with three more thrusts that lifted her to her toes, pumped his burning semen into her butt.
He pulled out with a jerk, and her legs gave out under her, dropping her to the floor in front of the table as the men started to applaud the rapist’s performance while her body pulsed with sullen, angry pain from her brutalization.
“So,” murmured Oran from where he stood over to the side, watching with his arms crossed. “Who’s next?” He nodded to one of the walls filled with torture tools. “Maybe try to stop going easy on the bitch now?”
“Good idea,” one of the men said, pulling a leather whip off the wall while another man climbed onto the table. Meanwhile, three more hauled Diana’s shivering dead weight back up to her feet. They had to carry the weight all themselves… the paladin felt incredibly weak, and she wasn’t sure she could have stood if her life depended on it… her legs were like rope, and offered her just as much support as she was lifted up. Still she did her best to fight. As the men lifted her onto the table, Diana tried everything she could to halt her progress, first by hooking her toes on the edge of the table, then by dropping a knee onto its surface, but to little avail. The man laying on the table smirked up at her as he pulled his cock free from his pants, stroking it in his fist as she was carried towards him.
“You’re mine now, Aasimar,” he said with a leer.
Her feet kicked weakly at the table as they set her atop him, twisting back and forth as he took hold of her hips and forced himself up inside of her pussy. Despite four rapes so far, her cunt was no more lubricated now than it had been when they started, and the insertion ached horribly. “Unghhh…” she moaned, disgusted with her own weakness.
For a moment, he just took in the view. The beautiful, athletic paladin perched on top of him, her body tight and exposed, chest out, hips forward, face turned up in a grimace of debasement and hurt. She looked down at his scarred face with its ugly, lustful expression. He had the tattoos, and she could feel the same radiating sense of black energy pouring off him, setting her nerves on fire from the inside. His hands roamed up her body, the hollows of her pelvis, the fluttering of her toned stomach, her ribs, her breasts. Squeezing the soft, firm peaks, lifting them as she gritted her teeth, releasing them to bounce painfully down her chest. Then back down, gripping her hips, sinking his fingers into that ass, lifting her up. Pulling her back down, sinking into her body, feeling the tightness and heat of her, feeling her unwilling feminine channel take him deep inside.
Diana grimaced, but as much as she hated to judge the quality of her abuse, this really wasn’t that bad compared to what had come before… slower, less violent. Her rapist, however, didn’t continue. His hands moved back up to her tits instead, squeezing them, playing with them. “Move your lazy ass, whore.”
Diana’s eyes hardened as she looked down at him. “What?”
“Bounce. Fuck. Do some work for once in your life, you self-righteous, holy bitch.”
She glared, furious, and started to inhale to retort… and right then the man behind her brought the whip crashing down across her back with a crack, and the words she had been preparing turned into a squeal of agony. The man beneath her grinned viciously up at the paladin. “Hop to it, slut. I don’t think you want to keep me waiting to come.” A second whip swung across her back put emphasis on the tattooed cultist’s words.
Diana just barely gritted her teeth to stop herself from screaming again. She hated everything about this, but what choice did she have? Feeling miserable, her lips tight, Diana slowly lifted herself up. She hesitated, brow furrowed, despising herself… and then she came back down onto the man, her breath hissing through her teeth as his cock moved inside of her.
He didn’t move his hips, doing nothing at all to make her job easier. Instead he just kept playing with her tits, lifting and rolling the supple flesh as she moved on him for a time, then clucked his tongue with annoyance. “You know, I’ve heard about the way you fight… the way you moved. I know those thighs are capable of better action than that.”
Dianna hurriedly tried to rise back up, but it was too late. The whip crashed down on her back again and she jumped, collapsing back down. Her back arched, pushing her breasts into the cultist’s hands, making him laugh in pleasure.
Her hips lifted and fell more quickly, face twisted in disgust at the need to please her rapist to escape the imminent violence of her torturer-
“Harder, slut,” the man behind her said. “I want to see your ass and tits bouncing!”
Diana cried out as the whip exploded across her shoulder blades. “AH!” Across her spine. “NUHH!” Her lower back, just above her tailbone. “GRHHH!” At the base of her wings. “GAAGH!”
Desperate to make it stop, Diana pushed herself harder. Her tempo increased, pumping against the man on the table with increasing desperation as she bowed her head, teeth clenched, eyes straining to hold back the tears. Not that it stopped the whipping. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Her rapist allowed his arms to drop behind him, putting them behind his head in a relaxed, indulgent posture, a languorous smile spreading across his face. “Harder, slut! It doesn’t stop until I cum… Make it hurt.”
“You… pig…” she hissed.
“Hey, Markus! I think she might be a masochist… I think she’s learning to like being whipped!” Behind her, Markus made the whip cut through the air again, slashing once again just below her wings. Diana’s body bucked on top of his. Her breasts tumbled as she rocked on top of him, sobbing. “That’s it,” her rapist growled, his voice growing a bit more strained as he felt incredible pleasure. “Give them a show… they can’t wait to be the one inside you, bitch. They just love to watch you get fucked…”
His hands moved back down to cup her ass as he started to thrust up against her falls. The accelerated fucking made the cruel sense of his aura tear at her insides, and Diana cried out as he pulled her down, pushing as deep into her body as he could. “I’m doing it, I’m doing it,” she hissed out.
“Give me all of you…” he hissed back. “Give me your body, you worthless bitch. You’re going to make me cum-” He smacked her rump, half sitting up as he furiously pulled her against him. Every stroke was agony as he masturbated with her body. Sweat dripped from her hair as their bodies crashed together, and she screamed as his hand moved around her ass, one finger pushing into her back door as he jerked her down, and down, and down.
Then screamed as his body quivered, erupting inside of her, spraying her womb with foul seed. With a shout that was half bark and half triumphant laugh, he fell back against the table. “What a ride,” he said as Diana fell forward. For just a moment, her body rested against his, her breasts flat against his chest… and then she sprang up, shrieking, twisting, straining at the cuffs that held her arms pinned in a mad attempt to get away from him, to reach a weapon, as if she could somehow clean herself if she could fight.
“Aw,” Oran chuckled from where he watched. “And here I was just beginning to think we were getting somewhere with the stubborn bitch.”
A dozen men worked to restrain the struggling paladin as they lifted her off the man. He slid out from beneath her, careful only not to spill her from the table as he climbed off of it. Readjusting his pants, he walked around to Markus with a cheerful smile, taking the offered whip from his hand as he turned to leer at Diana. “His turn.”
Turned on her side on the table, Diana’s body shook with sobs, but it didn’t matter. As Markus pulled the paladin down on top of him, the first man to make her ride him draped the braided cord of the whip over her shoulder, letting her turn her head despite herself to see the frightful thing as it hung there. “I think even a dumb wannabe angel knows what’s required of her by now,” he drawled, sounding innocent. “What do you guys think… maybe I should ease up with this thing?”
There was a bit of snickering from the crowd.
“Hmm…” he said with a playful affect. Slowly, he pulled the whip back. “Instead, I think I’m going to see just how fast the cunt can make him cum.”
Roars and applause poured from the crowd.
Every inch of Diana’s body hurt. Every muscle burned, every welt throbbed, her broken wrist felt like nails digging into her soul, and even without one of those strange, unknown tattoos Markus’ cock felt like a blade inside her pussy. None of that mattered. She put her head down and began to bounce on her rapist, trying to give him the best, desperate fuck she could. Her body was rigid, corded muscles standing out in her thighs as she desperately drove the man beneath her into her aching body, desperate to make progress before…
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
The alabaster flesh on her back burned with stripes of pink, turning angry magenta and purple where the marks crossed. Men held her wings out of the way, making sure that he had as much of her skin to work with as possible. Diana screamed out in agony, but she didn’t stop. Her ass bounced, her boobs shook, she pounded herself against her rapist… her lovely face on fire with pain and hatred… hatred that was slowly turning inward as well as to those who assaulted her. How could she have let this happen? How could she be this pathetic to be trying her hardest to make the snake beneath her cum as quickly as possible?
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
She twisted on top of Markus, half-aware that she was shaking her tits in his face and not caring because maybe, just maybe, it would get him off that much faster. Unfortunately for her, it only drew his attention. His hands moved off her hips to grab her hair and he pulled her back, back, arching her back painfully away from him, lifting up her breasts… just in time for the other cultist to smash the vicious whip down across both her tits.
She screamed, a full-throated, lung-emptying wail of unbearable agony. “NO! PLEASE!” They didn’t listen, though. The cultist ripped the whip across her up-thrust tits again, and her scream was overwhelmed by the watching crowd letting out wild cheers.
Markus arched his own back as he thrust into her from beneath, fast and hard. “Yes, yes, yes!” The third lash across her tits brought his orgasm with it: As he pumped his semen inside the screaming paladin he sat up, grabbed her shoulders, and put his mouth to her beaten breast, biting into her flesh and worrying the tender swell like a dog.
“STOP!… STOP IT! PLEASE, SOMEONE, MAKE HIM STOP!” Diana begged desperately, not even feeling the shame of her actions. Markus threw his head back with a laugh, leaving an angry purple bite mark to compliment the stripes across her breast. He shoved her from him with less caution than her previous rapist had used, and Diana tumbled from the table to crash hard against the floor, sprawling over backward with her legs spread.
The next pair of men to walk up to her were the two biggest. The blond cultists looked like they were probably related, the bigger of which was a little over six and a half feet tall and with well-defined musculature up and down his arms and chest. The second was only barely smaller, and the thought of taking either of them after the vicious rapes she’d already suffered would have had Diana’s terror mounting. How long had she been here? Was it even six hours? How many days would it take for help to arrive, for her squire to get more members of her order here? How much more could she take? She struggled to sit up as the two large men approached, to maintain some dignity… but the facade proved fruitless as the bigger man hoisted her by the elbow of her broken arm, lifting her agonizingly into the air like a screaming doll for a moment before he dropped her back onto the table.
“Warm-up is over, bitch,” he sneered, opening his pants and fisting his massive erection. “Now you get used properly.”
One of the two men quickly mounted the table. The other grabbed her under her arms, dragging her up and close to the table’s edge as the other took hold of her exhausted legs, sliding beneath her kneeling form. “Plant the whore’s hips down good,” the man behind her, the larger of the two, growled. “I don’t want there to be any chance of her slipping loose.”
One of the cultist’s hands clamped down on her thighs as the other shoved down against her tailbone, impaling the paladin’s sore, jizz-laden pussy on him with a sickening squish. Her head drooped as she whimpered. Diana no longer felt strong, or confident, or like she could endure… she felt pathetic, and overwhelmed, and helpless. And then, when the second cultist opened his pants behind her, she began to tremble, shaking her head. “You can’t-” Diana whispered. “You can’t!”
The cultist squeezed her ass hard enough that she felt his nails were cutting into her skin as he pulled, peeling her open. “There is no can’t, slut,” he snarled. “Not from you.” There was a long, tense pause when he shoved the head of his cock against her anal sphincter and began to drive his hips forward. Diana tried her hardest to squeeze and hold him out, sure that it would kill her to be taken like this, sure that she had to stop him no matter the cost. For a moment, both paladin and cultist shuddered with the effort… and then his strength won out. Diana screamed, a full-throated wail of agony as she was double-penetrated, sobbing her defeat to the stone walls and the audience of cheering rapists watching her.
He started fucking her immediately, not even hesitating. His attack on the paladin’s asshole was savage, feeling like a saw in her guts as he pulled back slowly and rocking her forward when he plunged into her balls-deep. The other large cultist seemed content to allow his friend from behind to provide the motion for the time being as he pulled her back by the hips – re-seating her fully on his shaft – as he drew back for the next thrust. He smiled up at her as her cunt bucked against him, his hands gliding up her sides and over the marks on her breasts as he drank in her debasement, the torment as both men’s cocks plundered deep inside of her and built friction on the delicate membrane between them, Diana’s mind lost in her own personal hell.
He cuffed her across the breast with almost casual sadism. Her head ducked as she cringed, a muffled cry strangled on her voluptuous lips. “What I find funny,” Oran said with amusement, “is that she thinks this is torture. That this is what we do here.” He made a sad, disappointed sound. “Oh little Aasimar… this is just some lust to take the edge off. This is what we do with sluts like you before we start getting bored with just the simple things. It’s always amazing to see the look on a whore’s face when she starts to realize just how deep the hole can go…”
“I can give her a taste,” the cultist below her growled. “Hold her shoulders.” The cultist behind her laughed coldly as he reached under her arms, hauling her upper body upright. Diana’s eyes opened, looking down at the huge cultist… and then the muscular blond smiled as he rammed his right fist into her belly.
“Cah!” she choked out. The effect was electric. With her knees against the table and her shoulders pinned, her body shuddered, trying to double up and unable to… and the wave of shock that went through her core clamped down her ass and cunt on her rapists. It felt just as agonizing for her as it was pleasant for them, a dynamic that the paladin was becoming unfortunately familiar with.
“Damn that’s tight!” exclaimed the man behind her as he kept slamming into her straining ass. The other man needed little encouragement to follow up by pounding her stomach with his left fist.
“Yes…” Oran chortled as he watched. “The little bitch was born to milk cocks. She just needed the proper education to show her her place.” He looked at the cultist. “Please continue to provide it.”
“Gladly…”” The man beneath her traced one finger over her taut abdomen, into her navel and over her pubic swell, savoring her pain and fear. Reveling in the spasming against his cock as the other man intensified his assault on her tortured rectum, pummeling her between different kinds of pain until she didn’t know up from down anymore, lost and feeling insane as she drifted on a sea of violation…
He pounded his right fist against her navel. “Huuugh!” And again, sinking his knuckles into her flesh. “Ngghhh!” Practically raping her belly with his fist; seemingly seeking to go through her and penetrate it just as much as her cunt and ass were being. “Ughhh!”
Her rapists groaned in pleasure with each punch as she milked and squeezed and clenched on their dicks, the man behind her tearing into her spasming asshole. She could feel from the heat and the dampness that the fearsome sodomy was starting to make her bleed. He could tell too, and horrifically that knowledge only seemed to make his cock harder and larger inside of her. Diana was a panting, tear-streaked mess as she suffered, turned into a training dummy for the man’s fists. He was being careful, too… a fighter should have aimed higher, at the solar plexus. Such a hit, however, could have locked up her breathing, made her pass out… and apparently he knew that, too. Wanted her conscious. So, instead, he focused on her lower abdomen. The taut sheath of muscle and scarce fat that protected her guts made the perfect target for his fists, the shocks from his punches sending cramps through her guts and womb as he threw body-shaking jabs at her stomach.
Diana felt like she was dying. Already there was far too much pain for her to process, to tell individual pains from one another. Her raw nerves were simply on fire as she drifted between one earth-shattering agony to the next. The thump of impact, the groans coming from her lungs as she was battered, the smacking of her rapist against the bruised fullness of her ass all echoed against the stone, mingling with the encouragement of the waiting men.
The punching cultist grasped her hip with his left hand, helping to pull her up and down to deepen his pleasure as both of their climax approached. The muscles in his right arm bulged as he drew back his fist, and slammed it forward again. In some kind of wordless, vicious synchronization, the punch slammed deep into her weakening stomach at the same moment, as her body squirmed and spasmed, both of the huge cultists slammed into her clenched orifices at once, deep and hard. The violence they wrought inside her was written on her features, her face bloodless and ashen pale, but alas for Diana that violence was not – quite – enough to bring the cruel man to orgasm.
Not the first time.
“Take it, you righteous angel bitch!” His punch drove deep into the swell above her pelvis as the other man made her ass ripple with his thrusts. She could feel the shudder inside her as he bottomed out in her pussy, the inescapable double cramp of the punch coupled with the inner thrust ramming against the bottom of her womb. The uniquely feminine pain that they smashed her with like a bludgeon was finally enough to make the man in her pussy finish… but, as he drove his fist into her yet again, she realized that that wasn’t enough to make him cease his assault on her heaving midriff. It took four more devastating punches into her bruised, yielding abdomen before the other man’s seed burst into her bleeding bowels.
The heat of his cum filling up her rectum was the last thing Diana felt before the darkness claimed her and she fell like a limbless puppet with its strings severed onto the men who had been abusing her, mind completely lost to the black.
Oran leaned back against the wall, pleased with himself as the enslaved goblin moved around, delivering drinks to the other men. He was actually delighted that the paladin had held up to that as well as she had… a less capable being would have passed out far sooner, and suffered far less. This newest slave of theirs was a very worthy offering to Syris indeed.
Deep within him, the Agonizer agreed. He could feel the demon’s thoughts pressing against his own, pushing against his emotions and memories… a situation he had long since grown used to. Agonizers were the favored servants of Syris, he knew… hundreds or thousands of years old, and containing all the experience and skill as a torturer that that implied. They weren’t one being but several, a conglomeration of the souls of past faithful worshippers of Syris and their skills, combined into one being. The process of binding one to yourself was a long, slow, painful one, but it gave the tormentor access to all of that information, once you got used to having a demon made of the gore of snuffed lives living inside of you. The initial feeling was euphoric. Nothing you would have done in your life before then could match the feeling of unleashing your pent up lust and rage on a deserving target – which was any target at all – once you had one of the Agonizers inside of you. It was only after a year or two of their presence, when you had built up a tolerance to that feeling, that it got uncomfortable… you could feel the demon in your mind and in your heart, always pushing you, always making you go further than you planned, urging you onward. Many went mad in the years after they became aware of it.
Oran hadn’t. It has been 200 years since he had bonded with Womb Flayer, and both the initial euphoria and the middle term paranoia and dissociation had long since been worked through. For him, the demon was a tool. An adviser… not quite a partner. It gave him ideas, gave him methods, made him enjoy his work even more than he would have by himself in his holy service to the Goddess, but he was in charge. Syris didn’t have a high priest, her cult didn’t have any kind of organized worship, but at this point he was probably the closest thing to it… and when he died, he fully expected that he would have a battle for supremacy on his hands… him against the other souls that made up the Agonizer that he was now a living part of, a war for supremacy and command. It was a war he intended to win.
“So what I want to know,” one of the other cultists was saying, “is how long are we going to give the little bitch to wake the fuck up? She’s not here to enjoy her beauty sleep. For all I know, she’s faking it.”
“Maybe you could go check,” Oran said with a smile.
There were some dark mutters from the crowd, then the cultist nodded. “Yeah, I think I will.”
The man, Brauer, strolled over towards the foot of the table where the once feared paladin was still sprawled. He was not one of the true faithful… a hired hand, a thug. Perhaps, if he was loyal and inventive and he lived long enough, he would earn the right to try to bind his soul to that of one of the Agonizers, but for now he had no tattoos at all.
The thug stood over the nameless paladin, and Oran couldn’t help but admire her with him. She was a beautiful one from the moment he had first seen her, but now she was so much more so… He admired the whip marks on her back and her breasts; the cut on her lip; the darkening mottled cloud across her abdomen, the angry purple-grey bar of bruises on her upper thigh. The sticky, drying tracks of white and rusting-red that had oozed from her asshole and cunt to puddle on the floor. Her mouth was half-open, and her breathing was going in a quick inhale-exhale pattern between long pauses, like a hidden creature terrified of discovery by a predator. She looked to Oran like the first strokes of a masterpiece, a new perfect work of art.
Brauer watched her chest rise and fall for a few seconds, clearly enjoying the way her breasts moved with each inhale. Then he reached down, scooped her up under her knees and shoulders, and lifted her onto the table. She remained passive as he set her down, so he climbed up onto the table and straddled her torso as the others looked on, drinking and talking but their lust stoking once again. It was like that. There were multiple bonded Agonizers in the room, and it wasn’t just the people bonded to them that they affected. It was easy to let yourself get carried away while in their aura, to cut loose and just enjoy the moment. They couldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do… but they could certainly remove any of your feelings of guilt for it.
The cultists sat down on the paladin’s bruised stomach and leered down at her upper body. Throwing back his head, he spat into her lovely face. The disgusting drops spattered across her lips and cheek; still, she hardly stirred. So he spat into the cleft between those gorgeous breasts. Pulling his cock out from his pants, he gave each of the peaks a couple of taps with his erection, enjoying the feeling of her soft, warm flesh against his cock. When that failed to rouse a reaction, he raised a hand and gave her left breast a loud, ringing smack.
Still, the paladin didn’t react… her face remaining impassive. “All right, then,” he muttered. Leaning forward, he jammed his cock between her sweat-and-spit-dampened tits, crushed the unconscious woman’s massive mammaries together, and rammed himself forward into her cleavage. She moaned weakly when his hips smacked against the underside of her bruised, sore tits, but it certainly didn’t stop him – Having the paladin’s tits clutched around his cock was clearly amazing for the man. Raping the haughty, foolish heroine’s chest – making those impudent tits she so uselessly hid beneath her armor into a play-thing to satisfy his cock – was delightful.
Oran only wished she was awake to see it, but part of him found her utter helplessness to her degradation almost as intoxicating. Bauer seemed to agree, at least somewhat… enjoying the give of the soft flesh in his fingers, the way the thrusts of his hips threatened to spill them from his hands. It spurred him to clench his hands tighter on the yielding, tender mounds. His thumbnails scraped over her swollen nipples as he thrust forward hard, then dropped his weight as he came back, enjoying the little pained grunts that interrupted her breathing each time he bounced on her bruised diaphragm. The group watched her tits shake as he fucked them, taking in her passive body, the soft, parted lips as she lay submissively on the table, taking what he had to give.
Through his Agonizer, Oran could feel it. He decided to tap into the sensations so he could feel what he felt, enjoy what he enjoyed. He luxuriated in the sensation of her warm, wet skin sliding across a sensitive cock, her tits bouncing against him with each thrust as his fingers dug into the warm, surrendering silky flesh, his to batter, his to fuck and use. “Make me cum with your tits, bitch,” the cultist howled. “Make me cum!”
His semen lanced from his cock as he jerked, falling in ribbons across her lips, her chin, her neck, her chest. For several long seconds he sat atop her, regaining control of his breathing, the crowd looking on in lustful anticipation. “I guess she isn’t faking,” he announced.
There was a round of laughter at that as he climbed down from the table. Oran kicked the goblin forward. “Wake her up,” he instructed the slave, sending the green-skinned monster forward. With growled curses in its own tongue beneath its breath, the creature approached the prone paladin, carrying a large bottle with a narrow neck, almost like a wine bottle but comically large, in his hands.
Watching the goblin climb onto the table was almost comical, but not half as funny as when he began pouring some of the bottle over her head, the clear liquid flowing from the neck. The paladin sputtered and gasped, thrashing awake on the table as she tried to move the arms cuffed behind her, shrieking as she pulled at her broken wrist before she stopped herself, shocked from unconsciousness into a fresh nightmare. One that grew only far worse as the goblin rammed the neck of the bottle into her cunt and tipped it up.
And pure, distilled alcohol poured into her ravaged, sore, swollen pussy.
Diana screamed. The cold, stark-smelling liquid felt like acid as it filled her vaginal canal, burning as it filled her roughly-used pussy. She jerked, screeching at the top of her lungs as the sudden, horrifically sharp pain robbed her of her senses, sending her body involuntarily jerking with a reflexive attempt to expel the invader. Even after her assailant took it out, she was locked into reflexive jerking with no coordinated resistance, not even aware of what was happened as the goblin repositioned the bottle once again.
Then he tilted the alcohol-filled bottle down, and shoved the neck between her buttocks, and her world vanished into pain. “NOOOO! OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD, AJAXE SAVE ME TAKE IT OUT!” She didn’t see it, but one of the cultists approached, pinning it in place, shoving the goblin away to fall off the table as he rammed his palm down on the base of the bottle and pushed, driving the glass deeper inside the shrieking woman as she writhed and bucked. “OH GODS!”
“Does it hurt, bitch? You want it out?”
Diana was almost mindless with the pain. “PLEASE!” she begged, barely even aware of how damn pathetic she looked, not even able to care.
“You going to suck my cock if I take them out?”
The paladin was so lost in her agony that she barely heard him, but slowly she processed the humiliation. She… she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t… “Say it, winged bitch,” he said, hitting the bottle, jostling it and letting more of the alcohol pour into her bleeding asshole. Her world exploded in a fresh burst of agony. “Say ‘I want to suck your cock’.”
“I- I- nnnghhh!” she howled.
“SAY IT SLUT!”
“I-,” she sobbed, hating herself, “I…want to s-suck- your cock…!”
Bloody alcohol foamed out of her as the cultist jerked the bottles from her asshole, tossing it away to spill out in a corner of the stone room. Diana shuddered and whimpered as the pain began to slowly subside, her luscious, damp body plastered down to the table. She felt so weak… “Get down,” the man ordered. “Get down here on the floor on your knees, like a proper little whore.”
She didn’t want to move… but Diana knew well that pain was waiting if she did not. The paladin inched painfully off the table, shoulders and knees taking her where her arms could not. Men licked their lips, watching her hips move, her breasts heave, as she descended to the floor and slowly made her way towards the ugly cultist. He smiled down at her, pulling open his pants and pointing his jutting cock at her like a weapon. “Put it in your mouth, whore.”
Diana shuddered in disgust, her eyes anywhere but on the crotch of the man before her. The more she thought about what she was doing the most disgusting it was, the more she hated herself. Slowly she sat up, kneeling. Her lush lips moved to the tip of the cultist’s dick, hesitating there. “Put it in your mouth, slut!” he roared. Her eyes screwed shut as her head slowly moved forward, hating herself as she took the head of the cock into her mouth.
It tasted even worse than she could have imagined – like shit and blood and weeks of stale musk and dirt and gods knew what else. His idea of cleaning himself was clearly sticking his dick into another woman and just carrying whatever was there with him. Diana recoiled, abruptly pulling back as the taste spread through her mouth and over her tongue, trying to minimize her contact with the thing.
The cultist’s fists tangled in the hair on the back of her head, gripping her tight. “I’m not fucking with you, bitch. Get my cock inside your hollow skull, now!” Her mouth went wide with surprise as he twisted the grip on her hair, and the cultist seized the opportunity to thrust his hips against her face. Diana squeaked, gagged, throat and stomach clenching as she struggled not to retch, gagging instantly as the thick head of his prick wedged against the back of her throat. “Like that, cunt! Taking it means taking the whole damn thing!”
He eased up the pressure on the back of her head, letting her pull back and breathe… but only for a second before Diana began doing as she was told. Her mouth slid forward and back on her own, now, trying not to give him a reason to gag her again. The taste was even more retched as she got closer to the sweaty base of his prick and so did the smell, making her wrinkle up her nose and try to keep her tongue as far away from his shaft as possible.
He noticed, too. “A slut’s tongue has one use, winged bitch! Use it!” he cursed. “Wrap your lips around me, cunt. Lick the head. Show me how a paladin sucks a cock, you self-righteous skank!”
Haunted, Diana obeyed. Her head bobbed on his cock, her tongue swirling as she licked Ajaxe knew what foulness from his shaft. Eyes closed, mind anywhere else. At least all of these cruel men were here, with me… that meant they weren’t hurting someone else. I am protecting them.
It was a hollow comfort, but the cultist clearly wasn’t willing to let her have even that. “Pay attention to what you’re doing, stupid bitch,” he spat, the saliva striking her forehead. His hands tightened on the back of her head again, pulling her against him. Something in her throat gave and his cock forced its way inside, clogging her neck as he held her there. “Fine. You want it rough? We can do it rough…”
She couldn’t breathe! Panic raced through her, and Diana’s shoulders shook as she fought against the hold on her head, choking. Bubbles of spit, semen, and snot came from her nose as she struggled to draw air without much luck. Twenty seconds passed like that before the cultist pulled her back just long enough to take a pained, wheezing gasp of air before he pulled her head against him again, making her try to throw up. When she retched, he pulled her back, only to jam his hips forward the next time he forced her head against his crotch, leaving her vomit with nowhere to go, abject horror erupting through her as her stomach twisted in knots.
“Is this how all your holes got to be taken? You got to be shown who’s boss, bitch? Can’t do anything right? Too good to suck a dick, slut?” His foot came up between her legs, kicking her cunt and she howled around his cock, vibrating its length. “I can show you who’s the boss…” His dick sawed its way in and out of her, violating her throat like he was trying to scrub it clean of its dirt with the sides of her neck. Once Diana started gagging she didn’t stop, thrashing uncontrollably as she choked miserable. The cultist spat onto her face as he pulled her back, then ground his pelvis into her face again, causing a new wave of retching sounds to gurgle forth from her stuffed airway. Her cheeks were turning purple when he abruptly jerked out of her mouth, leaving a sticky string of saliva dangling between his cock and her lips.
“Good for nothing whore!” he cursed, slapping her across the face. “Worthless cunt, can’t even suck a cock right.” He slapped her again. “What are you even good for? I’m going to make you eat my fucking ass before you’re done!” He pulled her head forward, burying himself, churning her throat even as his words churned her mind… and Diana, choking, nauseous, miserable, had had enough.
The cultist went rigid and screamed as her teeth sank into him. “AAAAAGHH!” His hands were pounding at her shoulders, his fists slamming against her but her mouth held tight onto his dick as he howled. “LET GO! STOP IT! AAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-”
And something gave.
The cultist fell backwards, clutching his groin and screaming. Oran was there in an instant, kicking her in the center of her chest, sending the winged woman sprawling… but unless she was mistaken he was smiling as he did it. She hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop.
Oran and the other sixteen men looked at her as she turned her head down, face flushed, breathing hard. The paladin started to rise from her knees, preparing to fight, but her battered and fatigued body slowed any retreat or self-defense she might have intended as the cultists stormed her, kicking her in the chest again as she tried to rise, slamming her over onto her back with a cry and a grunt. Four other man quickly grabbed her arms and legs, all of them shouting at once.
“Goddamned castrating Aasimar cunt!”
“Now you’re going to get it!”
“Break you in two-”
“Gonna wish you’d never lived to sprout teeth-”
She moaned in exhausted pain as they carried her, twisting against the hands that jerked at her sweat-slick limbs, knowing it was useless. They shoved her down on the table. She tried to sit up, and one of the men slapped her across the face and jerked back on the arm he held, the one with the broken wrist. She cried out and her head fell back on the table. Two of the men shifted their grip up her gracefully toned legs to her knees, pulling her legs open. She cursed and whimpered as the muscles in her legs trembled, stretched far wider than was comfortable, holding her in a near-perfect split at the edge of the table, stopping her from kicking. She breathed hard, heart galloping as Oran walked towards the table.
Oran was smiling, his face a reptilian expression like he was sizing up a kill. The dark haired elf looked genuinely pleased, the expression completely at odds with everyone else’s outraged look, with the still-sounding screams of the managed cultist. It seemed like he had hoped for such a thing. “Oh, you stupid paladin,” He said, his voice soft and amused. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”
Hours later, Oran looked down at the pale paladin woman in chains. She didn’t move… not even a little bit as he unchained her limp form from the table, rearranging the bonds he had forged from her own armor and shield and mace. Her chest rose and lowered, making her breasts heave, but that was the only sign of life in the Aasimar right now.
By Syris, she was gorgeous like this. So much more than she had been, standing strong and unafraid before the other Agonizers. She wouldn’t ever be biting again, he thought… not after the beating they had given her. Her head still hung over one side of the table, her pretty face slick with a mix of vomit, piss, and cum, streaking her scarlet hair down to the puddle below. Her nose was broken, dried blood on her face by her swollen lips. The bruises around her throat from where people had choked her, each time they stuck a cock in her. Her wings were almost as bad… they had ripped out feathers by the handful until she was actually begging them to fuck her face. Then they had soaked her wings with piss instead before they did so.
She’d stopped making sounds more than two hours ago… her throat too raw to make words. Her tits were swollen as well, covered in welts, bruises, bite marks, burns… her nipples so raw they looked like her hair. Cum, piss, and spit coated her chest, the valley between her tits, and the hollow depression in her throat. Just to check, he punched her in the belly, the belly that was one big purple bruises, and she barely flinched. Her closed eyes fluttered momentarily, then nothing.
And her cunt… After what they had done to her, most people would think she would be gaping open. Oran knew better – it was the opposite. The Aasimar was all but swollen completely shut, so tight it would be agonizing to get anything thicker than a pin in there, and cum was still leaking out and onto the floor, joining the bloodstains where they had left the useless, cockless cultist to bleed out. Her thighs were black and blue. Her asshole leaked cum too, bloodier leavings, tinged pink with the extremity of their violence.
This had been a fantastic start.
They hadn’t been taking it easy with her. They didn’t know how to take it easy with as beautiful of a cunt as this one… but they also hadn’t been especially trying to break her. Just to use her. Just to enjoy her. For most girls, that was enough… like the useless tramp who had been so eager to betray her into this hell. Just a few hours of attention and she would have been willing to cut off her own tits and eat them if Oran asked it. All too frequently, girls didn’t survive a twelve hour greeting to the cult… thrown away as soon as they were finished with them. Few had the strength to really take what Syris wanted them to.
But this paladin was still here.
Oran had hoped she would be. The moment the idiot had tried to face fuck her and she bit… he had hoped. The Aasimar was strong. Willful. Precious. She wouldn’t break all at once. Tomorrow she would bounce back… but not all the way. He would drive her down again, further, again and again and again, and each time watch her bounce softer, watch her become softer.
The others had done their part. Now she was his.
He was going to make this beautiful girl wish she was never born.
Her pussy was deliciously tight as he slipped inside her swollen cocksheath, but not half as delicious as the pained moaned she let out… nearly voiceless agony as he rocked back and forth. The first person to rape her today and the last as well, Oran took possession of her body.
Diana slowly began to come aware again. She was being raped, of course… right now, the paladin couldn’t remember the last time she wasn’t being raped. It felt like her hole were constantly being filled. That’s what they were… not her vagina, or her anus, or her mouth. Her holes. Sockets made for filling with cock… so why wouldn’t another one of them be raping her?
At least… at least it’s me and not someone else, she tried to think. At least it’s me…
She felt the pulsing of that evil, cruel aura inside of her, feeling like it was cooking her from the inside, and she recognized this prick… not by its physical sense, but by the darkness. The elf. Oran. His cock in her, his hands on her as they moved up her body, holding her bound arms, trailing down them to her good hand… her hands in his powerful grip.
Then, without warning, he sharply pushed back her index finger.
The snap sounded shockingly loud in the suddenly too-silent chamber, echoing. She screamed back to life, her pussy clenching on her him even harder, and he made a happy sound. “You hurt,” he said softly, “and it gives me pleasure. That is the natural order of things.” He pushed back the second finger more slowly, more gradually, until it too broke, making her cry out again in agony. Then the third followed, and then the fourth, slowly making his way till every finger on her hand was broken, milking her agony for his pleasure
Diana closed her eyes. I can’t cry. Not for him. The pain was almost unbearable, but all of the pain had been unbearable. After breaking her thumb, he tossed away her hand, and Diana realized with shock that she could move none of those fingers. Never before had she been made to feel so useless. “What should I do with this one, huh?” Oran asked, lifting her right hand. “I see your wrist is already fucked. What about these cute fingers? How many did you kill with them?” He chuckled again. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to lift a weapon again after I’m finished with you?”
“Please…” she whispered, her voice quivering. The plea came unbidden… she didn’t remember opening her mouth, didn’t remember forming the words. They were pathetic, barely a croak from a dry, ruined throat. The Aasimar paladin tried to maintain her dignity, and it was all but for nothing.
“What should I do with your hand, I wonder?” he mused. “Cut it off? Burn it? Or hammer it away?”
Diana closed her eyes and said nothing.
“I would suggest cutting it off,” he continued. “That might be for the best. Then you won’t be able to do anything stupid and get yourself in trouble. You probably won’t be able to fight anymore anyway, even if you really do get rescued, right? You certainly won’t need it anymore here. Best to just be rid of it… And then we can do away with some of these chains. And if you’re a good girl, a very good girl, I just might let you use the fingers of your left hand again. What do you say?”
Cut… cut off her hand…
They couldn’t do that to her… could they? Her order had healing magic… Ajaxe could heal her wounds. Nothing they had done to her so far was permanent, not really… but if she lost her hand? Could she bear that? Could she sacrifice it? Diana never thought in her entire life that she could end up in such a predicament. Immediately the image of Roska came to her mind. I saved her twice… And she condemned me to this?
Oran grabbed her roughly by the throat and choked her till her green eyes stared at, begging silently for mercy. “When I actually bother to ask you a question, I want an answer… it’s the only time you get to speak anymore, so you should take advantage. I asked you, what do you want me to do to it? If you don’t answer, I’ll put your fucking hand against the floor and hammer it until I turn your flesh into a sheet. Do you understand me?”
Diana breathed in the moment his hand moved away. Defeated, she gulped. But she could still not pick. There was no way she could depart with her hand. Then she could never be herself again. Not even if she escaped.
“Please… please don’t ruin my hand,” she begged quietly through her raw throat.
“I would really enjoy doing it,” Oran said, “and you exist to please me. What can you offer me instead?”
Diana swallowed. It was painful, and for more reasons than merely her dry throat. “I have… I have powerful friends,” she told him. “I know where things are. Valuable artifacts, treasures. I could-”
Oran twisted one of the fingers on her broken hand and her word choked off in a grimace of agony as her teeth came together. “And why would I care about those?” he laughed. “Do you know what the thing is about chains, whips, brands, and whores? They are all cheap.”
“Then…” she winced. It wasn’t going to matter. Nothing I say matters. I will be rescued, and he will be imprisoned or executed. It’s alright. “I know you can… how you can get to some people.”
Oran smiled, a genuinely smile. Then his hand tightened around her neck again, but this choking was almost tender… gentle by comparison. A small part of her felt grateful for that. “I think I might be confused, little one. Are you offering me your fellow paladins? Telling me where to find your order? Or perhaps a nice little princess in Ajaxe’s care?”
It won’t matter, she told herself. “Let me keep my hand,” she said as firmly as she could, as firmly as she could possibly feel with his cock inside her. “I can… I can help you.”
He clicked his tongue and released her hand. “I suppose I can give it a few days.” He continued thrusting, and she winced with each movement of his cock inside of her. “What do you have for me?”
Diana thought of what she was doing. Of what, and who, she was betraying. But it’s not betrayal. I have no choice. I’ll escape from here first. My order will come for me. I’ll warn the others…
A few hours later, Diana lay on the floor in her cell, thinking about what she had told Oran.
She had needed to tell the truth… the first time she had lied she had learned that in quick order. The first untrue word had scarcely been past her lips when his tattoo glowed and the evil aura inside her body grew and pulsed like a nest of razor blades, silencing her in a chorus of screaming. After that she had needed to tell the truth… giving away everything that Oran could think to ask about her order. Weak… so weak…
She was on her right side, her arm with the broken wrist outstretched before her. She noticed that instead of the cuffs that Oran had put her wrists in before, she only wore a chained collar now around her neck. Her hands, she assumed, were too useless for them to worry about. The broken fingers of the other hand, curled protectively against her chest, hurt whenever she touched them, and she wasn’t sure they would ever be usable again. Diana was cold and hungry but she thought about neither of those things. She should’ve been thinking about a plan to escape, but she wasn’t doing that, either… nothing came to her in this state. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and forget the pain. Forget the fact that she was branded like an animal. Forget the fact that she had been raped so many times…
She wasn’t sure how long had passed with her staring at the wall when the cell door suddenly opened. Oran stepped back in, this time carrying a bowl. “Are you hungry, paladin?”
“My name,” she said through parched lips, “is Diana…”
“Your name is cunt, or whore, or whatever I bother calling you,” he said. “I don’t give a fuck what you used to be called by people who care if you live or die. My name is relevant, because I’m the one you’ll come to love. Worship, in fact. But you?” He chuckled. “You’re scum.” It was difficult for the paladin to even move. Every part of her was numb. Hovering over her, Oran opened his mouth and let some of his spit trickle down over her face.
Diana knew it was disgusting but she was so thirsty that she licked the little that fell over her lips, taking it inside. “Damn, you’re real thirsty, aren’t you slut?” he chuckled. “Let’s see if we can help you with that.” He sloshed the bowl a little, and Diana caught the scent of delicious food… some kind of soup, or stew.
“Ah, you are hungry,” Oran smiled maliciously. “You can have it… so long as you beg. Can you do that for me, paladin?”
It is not a humiliation to keep up my strength. I will go nowhere on an empty stomach. “Please let me have some food,” said Diana, her tone begrudging and harsh.
He chuckled. “What’s that?” Oran mocked her. “You were so much more agreeable yesterday. I told you to beg, not demand. Beg. Have you never begged in your life, paladin?” He snorted. “You will learn… now. Beg, or there will be no food.”
Diana lowered her head and closed her eyes, turning her head away. “Please, may I have some food?”
Oran clicked his tongue in disgust as he shook his head. “You are true filth, Aasimar. I can tell you’ve never had a bad day in your life before you met me. Never known real pain, never felt despair… Otherwise, your ability to beg would not be so pathetic.”
Oran tipped up the stew into his own mouth, taking a large gulp before he sighed in satisfaction, wiping his mouth clean. “Don’t worry, you’ll learn a lot about begging in the days to come. We’ll continue this next time.” Without feeding her a single drop, he stepped away and slammed the door to the cell closed, leaving her in the lingering smell of the stew.
Diana’s stomach churned, desperately hungry… and somewhere, in a small, screaming corner of her mind, the Aasimar began to wonder how much longer it would be before there would be nothing she wouldn’t do for a meal…
One thought on “The Sum of Her Scars – Chapter 2”
Ok, chapter 2.
Yeah…I’m always in favor of having Diana actually accomplish more, but I think this guy might be overplaying it.
Actually, scratch that; he’s probably counting the giant monsters. Since he mentions her almost killing him as well, I’m going to guess that the oddly identical tattoos store magic that allows him to transform into the giant monster, like a transmutation scroll written on his skin.
I know that the entire point of a line like this is so that we can see the defiance ground out of her, which is part of the uniquely painful nature of stories like these, but I really have no choice but to love it.
On an unrelated note, I realized while trying to scroll back up to where I was that you might use bold more in this chapter than any other one I’ve seen. Not a criticism, as I employ the shit out of Italics; I just noticed it.
Magic tattoos confirmed.
Considering that the women the cult abducts are later found as mutilated corpses, that’s probably about right so far.
There’s more of the thing going on that I previously called hyperbole. That’s not a perfect word for it, but I’m not sure what to call it exactly. Diana’s shown nothing but compassion to the women who’ve been put through this (including Roska post-betrayal), so I suspect, as I said last time, that stuff like the “profaned utterly”/”never be clean again” lines are more about her state of mind in the moment than any beliefs she holds long term. Likewise, It’s essentially impossible that Diana wouldn’t know that after being captured by the cult of the goddess of rape, that she would be raped, so her “You wouldn’t dare!” thing is more about what she said last time about fighting, rather than being somehow surprised that they would do this to her.
The fact that Diana had never had sex wasn’t particularly surprising–the woman having been a virgin before being raped is very common in these stories (see Ariadna, Esperiel, Celestine, Lira, Seo-yun, etc.), but it does add a little more detail to that moment with Dillen from the last chapter. Generally speaking, blushing is an indication of embarrassment, but it tends to be part of a specific chain of events.
Very common is “I’m looking at the attractive woman” –>”she notices me looking”–>”I realize that looking will probably make her uncomfortable, and I don’t want to do that”–>”blush and look away,” although not infrequent is “I’m looking at the attractive woman”–>”she notices and smiles/waves”–>”this means I’d have to talk to her, and I don’t know how to do that/am too nervous to do that”–>”blush and look away”.
If we assume Diana has either taken a formal vow of celibacy or is married to the job, so to speak, and Dillen knows this, it explains why he acts the way he does. She asked him to help her change, and he can’t really help how he’s reacting to seeing her bare back. He nonetheless respects her choices and the boundaries she has in place, so he may feel as if his attraction is wrong or may cause her discomfort, hence the blush.
In terms of this being upsetting for me, I think I hit the part where it was about as bad as I’d expect from a Dig Two Graves comparison halfway through this chapter, around the time Diana’s just being punched in the stomach repeatedly while being raped. That comparison is therefore likely not to hold by the next chapter. To be fair, I’m almost certainly forgetting some of what was done to Syllia in that story, but by the same token that means it didn’t leave much of an impression on me.
Actually, we might have passed Dig Two Graves just before the switchover to Oran’s PoV. I’m not fetching that line you wrote there for a quote, but typing this is hard because I am genuinely, and I mean this literally, shaking with anger. I think the last time I was shaking was the ryona scene in LF2 where Levi beats and rapes Celeste. It took me several tries to read that paragraph.
In spite of the alcohol thing, I appreciate that you’ve sort of downshifted after that.
I really wanted to see Diana do what Donna did and try biting that cultist’s dick, but…well, there’s no Echo here so that would have worked, and I guess that’s why it didn’t happen. On the other hand, she might be right that if they’re focused on her, it gives other victims a reprieve. There’s a large part of me that doubts that, but frankly I really want her to have some sort of small victory. It may seem odd, but those are genuinely kind of important to me in stories like these.
Man, I couldn’t have set that up better that better if I tried. I cannot fully explain how good that felt. I know it’s not gonna work, mind you, in the sense that she’s now probably about to get punched a lot again, but believe it or not that’s actually not the important part. The important part is what it says about Diana.
Actually, dipshit, the technical term for what she did was “emasculating”, not castrating.
I noticed, of course, that Diana gives Oran information about her order, and I’m trying not to say anything about that. I’m like 99.9% sure I know where it’s going, but still, there’s a verysmall chance I could be surprised.
Still trying not to speculate about why the endings worked out the way they did. All I can say is thus far, one of my hypotheses has come apart. I thought that maybe the bad ending would seem more like a logical progression of events because Diana is defined by her failure, due to breaking so easily. Thing is, that doesn’t seem to be holding up so far. Comparing her to your other heroines, I think Diana’s holding up about the same as Donna from Constellation, given the number of chapters she’ll be spending as a victim, anyway. She may be holding up slightly better; it’s kind of hard to gauge.