The Elven Chronicles

Episode Three

The Fugitive Bride

 

Chapter 10  Prisoners of the Grothargs

 

The march to Iron Hand rivalled anything that Honoria had yet experienced, and it was not just because of what was done to her and Ralasharia on the way.  She and her Elf companion were placed at the end of the line of other prisoners.  All of them were Grotharg bitches of various ages, from seasoned warrior to immature females.  She had no idea what young girl Grothargs were called and it really didn’t matter.  The youngest were placed at the front and the oldest at the rear.  As a result Honoria and Ralasharia were forced to walk in the dust of the other captives. 

 

In spite of the fact that many of the marchers were very young the column of prisoners moved along at a lively clip.  Hampered by their bonds both Honoria and Ralasharia found it hard to keep up.  Even the Elf stumbled and fell on occasion as her hobbled ankles got caught up with one another.  Purposely kept sort of water, no doubt to weaken their desire to escape, or perhaps just because their captors found it pleasant to torment them in that way, both Elf and Human arrived in a state of exhaustion at the end of the first day.  But that did not stop the shaman from involving them in the first of his arcane rituals.

 

They were fed and watered first along with the other prisoners.  Then the Grotharg guards came for them.  They separated Honoria and Ralasharia from the others and marched the two women to an area away from the camp.  Honoria was beside herself with fear.  All she could think about was the huge sex organs of their captors and what she had seen them do to the female Grothargs at Red Stone.  Adding to her terror was the sound of screaming from behind her as the Iron Hand males once again assaulted the captive females. 

 

Whether Ralasharia felt fear Honoria could not be sure, but the Elf was breathing heavily, her perfect breasts rising and falling as they were brought to a halt before the shaman.  They were in a small clearing beside which ran a rocky stream that formed a dark pool a few yards downstream.  The shaman sat on a rock before them.  “You filthy,” he said.  “You must be clean to serve me.  Take dem to pool and wash dem.”

 

Still tethered to one another Honoria and Ralasharia were forced toward the pool.  At the edge a further humiliation awaited them, although Honoria doubted that Grothargs were at all affected by human nudity.  She and Ralasharia were stripped of their remaining garments.  The Elf had already lost her wings and the quiver that went with them.  Now her revealing skirt and her boots were removed.  As for Honoria every garment was taken from her leaving her as nude as the day Ralasharia had found her.  They both shivered in the cool autumn air and then they were driven into the pool.  The shock of the cold water took Honoria’s breath away. 

 

Still bound to the staff, neither woman could wash herself  and so a young captive bitch was produced to do it for them.  Armed with a cloth, the bitch, who stood almost as tall as Honoria, removed all of the dust and dirt that covered them and with the aid of the tharg guards ducked them beneath the frigid surface of the stream.  And then they were dragged from the pool and taken before the shaman.  Both women stood there, shaking from the cold, their breasts quivering as they shivered and their nipples hard as cork. 

 

It was a vision of indescribably beauty; the tall Human female with a body like a goddess and hair like obsidian; and beside her the fire-haired Elf, slightly taller and no less perfect in her physical charms.  Their bodies trembled as they fought approaching hypothermia, but the shaman had thought of the perfect way to warm them up. 

 

“Now you serve me,” he said, tapping each of them with his staff.  “I take your magic.  Elf virgin first.”

 

Virgin.  Honoria had never thought of Ralasharia as a virgin.  The Elf had always seemed in command of every situation and she had guessed her age at twenty-five years.  It seemed only natural that she had experienced the knowledge of the flesh.  Ralasharia’s face showed that it was not so.  For the first time Honoria saw something cross the Elf’s perfect features that resembled fear. 

 

Ralasharia fought desperately to preserve her virtue, but her body was arched against the staff that fitted into the hollow of her back and she was held by two huge Grotharg males.  Either one would have been more than a match for her in her captive condition.  Honoria watched in horror as the struggling Elf was held by one of the males and the other removed the tether and spread her legs.

 

Ralasharia screamed in panic.  “No!” she cried as she was lifted from the ground and the tip of the Grotharg’s phallus was pressed against the lips of her vulva. 

 

“Slowly,” the Grotharg shaman cautioned.  “Take her slowly.  The greater the pain the more of her magic becomes mine.”

 

Grotharg males were not normally given to acts of restraint, but the one thrusting into Ralasharia obeyed exactly.  Placing his clawed hands on the Elf’s tight backside he slowly impaled her, a fraction of an inch at a time, drawing out the violation for as long as possible. 

 

Ralasharia writhed, her face contorted by fear and pain, her head thrown back and her body arching unconsciously.  Her breath came in agonized gasps, but she did not scream at least not for the first few inches on penetration.  But then she gave in to a long drawn out moan.  “Stop,” she begged.  “Please stop.”

 

The shaman gave a short harsh laugh.  “You suffer Elf bitch.  Give up your magic to me.”  The Grotharg penetrating Ralasharia gave one more small thrust and then the Elf maiden screamed. 

 

Honoria wept as Ralasharia was violated, experiencing in her mind everything the Elf was enduring.  She watched as the red-head arched her back against the staff, her entire body quivering in pain, the huge phallus penetrating her, threatening to rip her apart.  Her screams were horrific and then at a nod from the shaman the Grotharg ravishing her began to pump brutally in and out of her ravaged vagina.  Ralasharia’s screams and cries became completely incoherent and then her assailant exploded into her, his thick cream spurting out around his now shrinking member.

 

As Ralasharia’s assailant stepped back, the shaman moved in, holding a cup beneath her.  Into it dripped the semen, vaginal juices, and most importantly, the blood generated by her ordeal.  As the Elf sobbed noisily the shaman raised the cup to his lips and drank.  “Now I have Elf power,” he chortled. 

 

Honoria wept.  She had never witnessed so terrible a scene, and then her blood ran cold as the shaman fixed his eyes on hers.  “Now your turn Human bitch.”

 

“But I have no powers,” Honoria wailed.  Her legs were trembling so badly she could hardly stand, but hardly mattered.  The Grotharg who had held Ralasharia while she was raped removed her tether and then lifted her from the ground, spreading her legs as he did so.  The Grotharg who had enjoyed the Elf now took his turn behind Honoria, gripping her arms and holding her torso off the ground. 

 

The Shaman came close to her as she struggled to escape, kicking her legs frantically.  “You have more power dan you know,” he hissed, “but it will soon be mine.”

 

“No!” Honoria screamed as the Grotharg stepped between her thighs.  Out of the corner of her eyes she could see Ralasharia kneeling on the ground her hands pressed against her abdomen and her face a mask of pain.  She no longer wept aloud, but her tears still flowed freely and then Honoria’s attention became firmly fixed on her own ordeal.

 

“Slowly, like the Elf,” the shaman said. 

 

Honoria twisted her body to escape, fighting harder than she had ever fought in her life.  Even the hideous ordeal she had suffered at the hands of the bandits and the savage shock of her wedding night could not compare with this.  Like Ralasharia she arched hr back in a desperate attempt to pull her body away from the Grotharg’s huge member, and like Ralasharia she moaned as the lips of her vulva were forced apart and the giant organ slid into the tight confines of her vagina.  The Grotharg’s phallus throbbed as it entered her, veins the thickness of her little finger standing out on its surface.  Honoria gasped as it penetrated her, each tiny thrust forcing apart her pelvic bones.  To make penetration easier the Grotharg had smeared his phallus with some sort of grease, but it still took a great deal of his strength for forced his way in.  His hands gripped Honoria’s buttocks so tightly that he left bruises the shape of his fingers on her tender flesh.  It was incredibly painful, but she endured the pain almost as long as Ralasharia before finally giving in and shrieking in agony. 

 

The Grotharg grinned at the sound, displaying his huge fangs and thrust even deeper into her.  Honoria’s entire body shuddered in pain, her firm breasts quivering and sweat decorating her satin skin in spite of the coolness of the autumn air.  She managed to look down and saw to her horror that the Grotharg had penetrated her to only half the length of his thick shaft.  What she had hoped was coming to an end was only just beginning.    

 

Again and again he thrust into her each half in gained increasing her agony until she thought she was going to pass out from the pain.  But she didn’t.  Some level of endurance she did not know she had kept her conscious until the Grotharg had buried his immense organ within her.  Then, as the other Grotharg had done with Ralasharia, he began to thrust in and out of her, each stroke gaining in speed until he was hammering her with the rapidity of a blacksmith pounding iron.

 

“Aaagghh!” Honoria’s screams could probably have been heard throughout the Grotharg camp, even over those of the young Grotharg bitches who were once again serving their new masters.  And then just as she was on the verge of passing out the Grotharg grunted and shot a jet of his seed into her.  There was so much of it that, as in Ralasharia’s case, the semen gushed from around the edges of his phallus. 

 

As before the shaman rushed forward, catching in his cup Honoria’s vaginal blood, and then raising the cup to his lips.  “Now I have power of Human witch,” he declared, smacking his lips.  Honoria, barely conscious, was lowered to the ground. 

 

A few feet away she heard a scream.  The Grothargs who had raped her and Ralasharia had now turned their attention to the young Grotharg bitch who had helped bathe them.  “By the Goddess,” she moaned.  “Will this never end?”

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