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Chapter
27
Violation
Cymari tried to suppress her feeling of despair,
but her situation and that of her sister warriors was completely
hopeless. She was one of a long
line of shackled Suruani warriors.
As far as she could see in either direction the remnants of the once
mighty Suruani army was tethered neck to neck in a seemingly never-ending
column. After their humiliating
defeat and capture by the triumphant Lelawabi the women had been marched
directly to the male-dominated city.
What fate awaited them there none of them knew, but all of the captives
knew the traditional fate of women taken in
battle. They had been lined up
in front of the city walls for several hours now, awaiting the pleasure of
their captors.
Near the far end of the column the gate to
the city opened and the white demons who had helped destroy the once proud
army of women marched forth, accompanied by King Desari and his
bodyguard. The entourage stopped
to survey the scene behind them.
Almost half the Suruani army had been taken
prisoner. It promised an orgy
of celebrating such as had never been seen
before. The king waved his arm
and shouted a command. Turning,
the king and his demon escort began to walk slowly down the line of
prisoners. Every now and then,
they would stop and point to one of the
women. Immediately the chosen
woman was detached from the rest and towed along behind.
Slowly the group worked its way
toward Cymari. By the time it
reached her nine women had been chosen to join the
procession. Cymari noticed that
without exception, the women chosen were extraordinarily
beautiful. She caught her breath
as the tallest demon pointed to her.
The king nodded.
“Excellent choice, my lord.
This one would certainly be my choice.”
Cymari felt her stomach go
cold. There could be only one
meaning of the remark. Her ordeal
was about to begin. Almost trembling
with fear, she was detached from her sisters and made part of the select
group. Seemingly satisfied with
ten sex slaves, the tall demon nodded his
approval. The procession turned
back toward the city, dragging their captives after
them.
A small gate in the wall provided return access
to the city. They passed through
the wall and into the confusing maze of streets on the other
side. They walked for about ten
minutes finally leaving the streets and entering a large walled
compound. Cymari’s dark
eyes widened in curiosity and fear.
A number of strange looking posts had been set into the ground at
regular intervals. The posts
were about four feet tall with a wooden crosspiece securely fastened to the
top.
About knee high another
crosspiece was attached to the lower part of the
post. Cymari did not know what
the posts were for, but she expected that they would have something to do
with the humiliation and violation of her and her
sisters.
A Lelawabi warrior now took hold of each of
her arms. Other Lelawabi seized
her sister warriors. Each helpless
woman was escorted to one of the posts.
Cymari suppressed a cry of pain as she was roughly hoisted into
position. Each of her arms was
pulled behind her and bent over the crosspiece at the top of the post, so
that her back was bent backwards over the horizontal bar and her arms were
bent at the elbow and forced forward underneath the
bar. Coarse rope was looped about
each of her wrists, and tied across her belly forcing all of her weight onto
her arms. Scrambling with her
feet, she managed to plant them on the lower crosspiece, taking the weight
off her biceps. But her respite
from pain was short lived. The
Lelawabi warriors took each of her ankles and removed them from the post.
Then they bent her legs at the knee, forcing them to bend around the lower
crossbar. Pulling her ankles
upward, they bound them to the upper
crossbar. The result left her
in terrible pain. All of her
weight was thrown onto her upper arms which were cruelly bent around the
top crossbar. At the same time,
her legs were forced upward placing even more strain on her
arms. Tears of pain and despair
flooded her eyes. A few feet
away she could hear several of her sisters
weeping. It took all of
Cymari’s strength not to emulate
them.
The sight of so many helpless women had stimulated
Featherstone to an unbelievably hard
erection. He looked at the woman
he had personally selected. She
was delightfully beautiful, every bit as attractive as the Suruani queen
he had violated and no doubt just as
virginal. The thought of deflowering
another maiden almost had him drooling, but he maintained his
composure. It would not do for
a god to appear too lascivious. He
unbuckled his belt. He would
have preferred to take his victim in private, but he was too aroused to wait
any longer, and the Lelawabi seemed to delight in public exhibitions of sexual
humiliation.
Cymari struggled to escape as the frightening
white demon stood in front of her.
His intentions were clear.
He had unbuckled some of his strange clothing revealing an enormous
erection. The sight filled her
with horror and fear. She knew
that she faced a most humiliating and painful
ordeal. Like a fly caught in
a web, she fought frantically to break free of her
bonds. Sweat poured down her
pain-wracked quivering body as her supple muscles flexed beneath her velvet
skin.
Featherstone looked deep into the girl’s
teak-coloured eyes. He liked
to watch the expression of helplessness and pain as he took his
victim. Reaching out, he took
each of her coal-black nipples between thumb and forefinger and twisted and
then pulled them, stretching each one a good inch from her
breast. The girl began to
whimper. Featherstone
smiled. The girl was
strong. So much the
better. It would be so gratifying
when she finally began to scream for mercy.
Cymari gritted her teeth as the demon continued
to pull and twist her nipples. She
was terribly afraid, but her warrior’s code forbade her crying
out. Her heart was beating like
a hammer, seeking to pound its way out of her
chest. It would have been so
easy to give in to her fears, but she did not want her enemies to see her
cry out like a little girl.
The demon released her nipples, and cupped
each of her small firm breasts. He
massaged them harshly, forcing the soft flesh to bulge between his
fingers. Then he bent his head
and took her left nipple into his mouth.
At first he did not hurt her, running the tip of his tongue over the
sensitive bud. But then he drew
her entire nipple and areola into his mouth and clamped his teeth clamped
down hard.
Cymari parted her lips in a silent
scream. She could not believe
that a proud warrior of the Suruani was being subjected to such a humiliating
ordeal. Her chest heaved and
she twisted her torso, trying futilely to pull herself away from the
demon’s brutal touch. Adding
to the horror were the sobs from her sister warriors as they too were subjected
to similar horrors. Right next
to her a warrior she had known all of her life broke down and began to beg
for mercy from her Lelawabi molester.
A sob rose in Cymari’s
throat. Everything seemed so
completely hopeless.
The demon played with her for over an
hour. By the time he was ready,
Cymari was sobbing quietly. Her
breasts and vaginal region were covered in bruises, and her body ached from
the abnormal position it had been forced
into. Then she felt the demon’s
huge phallus probing at her vulva.
She screamed, a long drawn out shriek of anguish and despair as he
drove into her. Inside, she felt
something break and knew that she was no longer a
maiden. Then the demon’s
hands gripped her backside in a viselike grip and he began to pump his pelvis,
driving deep within her. With
each thrust Cymari wailed brokenly.
A voice she barely recognized as her own began to beg for mercy, pleading
with the demon to stop, but there was no respite from the brutal
attack. He raped her over and
over again, not stopping until his lust had been satisfied and Cymari’s
loins and legs were red with her own vaginal
blood.
She was not
alone. Next to her several of
her sisters were sobbing uncontrollably.
One or two hung silent, having fainted from the ordeal, and still
another begged for mercy as her assailant continued to violate
her. She hung her head in abject
shame and misery.
Featherstone pulled up his
pants. That had been a highly
satisfying hour and a half. A
few feet away, King Desari stood, his arms folded across his
chest. “That woman served
you well, my lord. Would you
like to keep her?”
Featherstone thought for a second and then
his lips twisted in a malicious smile.
“No,” he replied.
“What if we take these women to the arena and introduce them
to the thoth?”
Desari returned Featherstone’s
smile. An excellent idea, my
lord. It will be a most interesting
to see how they fare.”
Cymari tried to hold herself
erect. She stood in the centre
of the arena along with the other nine Suruani warriors who had been
ravished. In a few minutes the
gate at the end of the arena would open and the terrifying apparition known
as the thoth would appear. She
did not hold much hope for survival.
She had seen the thoth fight many times and against odds heavier than
these and she had never seen it lose.
The only time she had seen it come close to being defeated was when
the strange female white demon had been sent against it just before the Lelawabi
attacked. She said a silent prayer
to the god of war. If she was
lucky she would die in battle against the
monster. She did not want to
be one of the last warriors remaining.
Their fate would be too cruel.
She planned to throw herself into the battle and expose herself recklessly
to danger.
She lifted her gaze defiantly to the
stands. They were filled to capacity
with Lelawabi citizenry all eagerly waiting of the spectacle to
begin. “My sisters,”
she said quietly. “We are
about to die. Let us deny the
Lelawabi the satisfaction of seeing us being ravished by the
thoth.”
The devastated group of women looked at
her. Some of them straightened
their backs. None of them spoke,
but a look of determination appeared on their
faces. They remembered that they
were warriors. They would do
as Cymari had said. They would
die fighting.
Featherstone settled into his
seat. He was looking forward
to seeing the battle between the ten women and the
thoth. Beside him King Desari
waved his hand. The event was
about to begin. A murmur went
up from the crowd as the gate at the end of the arena
opened. Within seconds the monstrous
form of the thoth emerged.
Featherstone leaned forward.
This was going to be fun!
Cymari and her sisters surged
forward. The thoth seemed confused
by the sudden attack. It was
used to its victims running away, but it did not take long for it to
react. Cymari was near the forefront
of the attacking warriors. As
she neared she hurled herself toward the
monster. She was weaponless,
but that did not matter for a woman intending to
die. But she never got the chance
to make contact. As she left
her feet one of the thoth’s monstrous hands batted her out of the air
as if she were a fly. She was
sent tumbling head over heels into the dust of the
arena. The other women had little
more success. Striking right
and left, the thoth batted them out of the way, leaving a trail of bruised
and battered bodies in its wake.
Then reaching down, it scooped up Cymari and ran back toward its
lair.
This was something
unexpected. The thoth usually
ravished its victims in the middle of the arena, but perhaps confused by
the number of adversaries, it retreated to the only safe place it
knew. Calls to close the gate
came too late. The monster ducked
into the dark tunnel that was its den.
Outside guards armed with spears leapt into the arena, but they stopped
at the gate. No one had the courage
to follow the monster down that dark
tunnel. In the stands, Featherstone
cursed in frustration and other members of the crowd
booed.
Cymari shook her
head. She had no idea where she
was or what was happening to her.
The last thing she remembered was hurling herself at the thoth and
then everything had gone black.
Someone seemed to be carrying her, and carrying her with the ease
with which an adult carries a child.
Then suddenly, she was fully
awake. A sensation of such horror
ran through her that she was almost sick.
She suddenly realized where she was and what had happened to
her. Desperately she struck out,
beating her hands against the thoth and kicking out with her feet, but she
might as well have been pounding stone.
The thoth did not even bother to fight back so feeble were her
blows. And then she found herself
tossed onto the floor of a stone chamber.
It was the vilest place she had ever been
in. The foul stench of rotting
meat, urine, and feces, filled the air, and for a second, Cymari thought
she was going to be sick, but then she forgot all about her surroundings,
as the thoth seized her legs and wrenched them apart.
Cymari screamed in
despair. The very thing she had
hoped to avoid had occurred. She
had been captured by the thoth and was about to be subjected to its
pleasures.
She did everything she could to fight it off,
kicking, hitting, and biting, but the thoth pinned her to the ground with
ease, and then as if her blows did not even matter, placed its huge hands
on her behind and drew her toward its massive
phallus.
Cymari gave a shriek of pure terror and then
unexpectedly, the thoth stood up, releasing its hold on
her. Cymari wasted no
time. Leaping to her feet, she
headed for the tunnel leading to the arena as quickly as
possible. A cry of pain and fear
brought her to a halt. Turning,
she saw the reason why the thoth had released
her. One of her companions, a
warrior named Jalin, had followed her in, and seeing her plight had hurled
herself at the monster, but now she had become the victim
instead. The thoth had her on
the floor, pinning her face down with one hand, while with the other it forced
her legs apart. Cymari could
not leave a comrade in such frightening
circumstances. Without a second
thought she threw herself at the thoth.
For all the good her attack did, she might
as well have kept on running. The
thoth caught her with one hand, batting her across the
cell. Then before she could recover,
it seized her waist-length hair and dragged her to where the other girl lay
pinned to the floor. Grabbing
the other girl’s equally long tresses, the thoth tied the girls’
hair together in a crude knot.
Unable to escape, the girls were forced to lie head to head while
the thoth proceeded as it had before.
It took Cymari first.
Placing one hand on each thigh
it lifted her toward its huge phallus.
She felt something wet spurt from the monster’s huge phallus,
the special lubricant that the thoth secreted when it was ready to mate,
then she screeched in agony as the enormous organ began to penetrate
her. Nothing in her life had
prepared her for such an ordeal.
The enormous penis, almost as thick and long as her forearm, felt
like it was splitting her in two.
It was like being impaled on a thick wooden stake, and the pain was
indescribable. Again and again
she screamed, her voice cracking from the
strain. Then as the pain overwhelmed
her, she began to beg the thoth for mercy, imploring the brainless beast
to stop.
“Aaaaaggghh!
Stop! Please Stop! Aaagggh!”
Her cries were almost ear-splitting
in the confines of the stone room and could be heard even outside in the
arena. But, of course, the thoth
did not stop. Even if it understood
what she was saying, which was quite doubtful, the thoth was merely doing
what generations of thoth had done to their human
victims. It bent forward, sinking
its great fangs into her shoulder, and shook her like a
rat. Cymari’s small breasts
bounced wildly as her entire body shuddered under the brutal
assault. Toward the end she lost
consciousness. Thus it was that
she did not hear the thoth’s snort of pleasure, as it climaxed within
her.
What she did hear, however, and what dragged
her out of her faint was the shrill scream as the thoth began to rape
Jalin. Her sister warrior’s
cries were terrible indeed, and Cymari got some inkling of what she must
have sounded like when the thoth took
her. Like Cymari, Jalin begged
the monster to stop, and like Cymari, the monster ignored her cries, thrusting
deep within her with brutal intensity.
Cymari did not know what was worse, being
raped by the thoth or listening to her sister warrior’s cries as she
was ravished. Perhaps even worse
than either was being too weak to help her comrade, and knowing that their
ordeal was just beginning. Those
captured by the thoth were repeatedly raped until the monster tired of the
sport. But by that time, its
victims were usually dead. As
Jalin’s shrieks increased in intensity, Cymari wept, overcome with the
horror and helplessness of her situation.
Jalin’s cries
died. The ravished woman lay
sobbing, her lower body covered with
blood. Cymari shook herself out
of her despondency. Reaching
above her, she tried to untangle her hair from the crude knot the thoth had
tied. It took her a few minutes,
but the thoth seemed to be resting after its ruthless
orgy. Slowly, so as not to attract
attention to herself, she inched away from the
monster. She had no idea what
she was going to do. She certainly
could not abandon the weeping Jalin, but perhaps if she could get far enough
away the other woman could follow her or maybe she could find a weapon of
some sort.
On hands and knees she crept toward the door
of the thoth’s lair. She
almost made it to the tunnel beyond and then there was a bellow behind
her. She leapt to her feet, but
fell almost immediately. She
had not realized how much she hurt.
The pain that shot through her loins brought her to her knees, and
then the thoth was on her. It
grabbed her from behind, its hands over her breasts, and pulled her toward
it. Cymari screamed in pain as
the thoth used her breasts like handles and almost lifted her from her
feet.
She struggled desperately, knowing that if
she was subjected to another vicious rape she would probably be too beaten
and exhausted to escape. But
the thoth pulled her toward it as if she were a
baby. Then she felt something
that gave her the strength of terror.
The thoth shifted its hands down to her trembling backside and parted
her cheeks. Cymari shrieked in
fear as she felt the thoth’s mighty organ, still slick from its previous
rape of the two women, press against the buttonhole of her tiny
anus. She knew that to be taken
anally meant her death. The enormous
shaft would rip her open like a ripe
melon. A terrible noise filled
the room. It was the sound of
her own screaming.
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