Barbarian Queen:

Captives of Lord Arrakur

 

 

Chapter Two

 

Deeper into Pain

 

Estrild was kneeling on the cushioned floor of one of the separees of the gladiator´s brothel. Her hands were tied behind her back with leather cords and her belly was resting on a stool. Her sparse clothing had been ripped from her body and she was naked except from the bracelets on her wrists and ankles, the golden circlets on her upper arms and the bells tied into her full, brown hair.

She had been so close. She had seen Argan at the corner of the great hall of the brothel but before she could call for him a beefy gladiator with a bald head and a thick black moustache had grabbed her and dragged her into this separee he had reserved for himself and his friends. She had resisted and he had slapped her in the face a few times. Then he had tied her hands behind her backs and thrown her down on the floor and raped her with devastating, brutal thrusts inside her.

After that his friends had joined him. Guzzling wine and offending her with obnoxious remarks, they had forced her to dance for them. Estrild was not trained as a dancing girl, so her performance couldn´t have been worse even when her hands would not have been tied behind her back. But evidently, her struggles to please were as excitingly zestful to the men as the performance of the most beauteous and shameless dancing girl could have been.

Then they had thrown her on the stool, spread her legs apart and started to rape her. There were seven of them in the beginning, but to Estrild´s dismay more and more were joining in on the sport.

One cock was constantly ramming into her from behind and one man was always kneeling in front of her, his member buried inside her mouth and throat.

Her head was bobbing frantically in the urgent attempt to bring the gladiator off, swallowing his cum and getting the briefest of reprieve and a few full breaths of air before the next cock was forced between her lips. Anything less then earnest work got her a slap across the face or across her dangling breasts. So d

Estrild couldn`t tell how many men had raped her already and how long it had gone on. Her labia and cunt-shaft were grated raw and her jaws ached with overuse.

Her breast ached as well from being brutally fondled, groped, pulled and kneaded.

Her world was reduced to an endless stream of hard members fucking her and male hands exploring every part of her body with brutal force.

Trough a haze of grunts and drunk laughter she heard the two men raping her cunt and mouth exchanging a few menacing instructions while continuing their attack on her body. Then suddenly the man fucking her from behind put his arms underneath her armpits and closed his hands around the back of her neck.

He pulled her up, her mouth gliding off the cock she was sucking and held her close to his body, his hard cock still inside her.

The other one in front of her was looking at her exposed breasts and belly, an evil grin on his face. His cock was still hard as well, all wet and shiny from her saliva.

He slapped her breast with the palm of his hand. Then he slapped them again with the back of his hand. He kept slapping her pain-filled mammal globes with the cruel force of his callused hand, making them bound and jiggle on her ribcage.

Estrild screamed in pain and begged him to stop. The other on kept rutting inside her with even more raunchiness as before, her pain no doubt increasing his zest.

"Now, do it now!" he urged his companion, as his cock began to spend himself inside her. The other one let go of Estrild´s breasts, pushed the stool aside and punched his fist into her belly.  She grunted in pain. Before she could absorb the pain, he punched her again into her pelvis, right on the triangle of her pubic hair.

He punched her there again. And again. Each time, his fist dangerously close to the balls of his companion, as he was shooting his hot semen into the poor girl.

As horribly painful as the blows to her pelvis was for Estrild, as lustful it was for her rapist feeling her body absorbing the hits, feeling her cunt-shaft contracting around his cock with each impact.

 

A flush of icy water awakened Amethea.

She opened her eyes and shook her head, her eyelids blinking in an effort to clear her vision. Her first cognition was that she was lying on her back and couldn´t move. Her first sensation was a terrible straining pain in her groin.

She managed to blink away the water in her eyes and got a look at Zohar standing at her side, holding the bucket he´d just emptied on her face and smiling down at her viciously.

Slowly, Amethea realized her new predicament.

She was still stark naked. The only article she wore was the collar around her neck, with which her torturer had choked her into unconsciousness.

She had been taken down from the rack, but freedom was not granted to the warrior-woman. Not in the slightest.

She was now tied down on a wooden bench-like table. Her arms were tied down on the upper end of the table, held tightly fixed by iron cuffs directly attached to the surface of the table. Two cuffs were closed tight around her wrists, two more around her elbows. When she turned her head, she could see the cuffs around her elbows and realized with dismay that those were strong, thick iron manacles, which did not allow the slightest movement of her arms. There would be no way to break free from those. But that was by far not the worst of it.

The lower part of the table was shaped like the top of a T - meaning the table ended in a wooden beam of 3 meters. Amethea raised her head as much as she could and gazed down the length of the body. The reason for the strain in her loins became obvious. Her backside was resting on the center of the beam and her legs were spread as wide apart as humanly possible. Two cuffs around her ankles and two larger ones around her upper thighs secured the lower part of her body on the table.

Virtually immobilized on the table, her body equaled the letter T perfectly.

A fine layer of sweat was covering her naked form, the light of the torches set on the walls dancing on her curves.

Besides the pain, this bondage caused her; Amethea realized of course, that this rendered her vagina totally unprotected. She strained the muscles in her thighs against the bonds around her legs. It was completely hopeless. Her legs remained spread wide apart, held by those immovable cuffs on the table.

Zohar put off the bucket and stepped closer. He was wearing his jacket, glasses and the small hat on his head. His breechcloths were gone, however, and his semi-hard cock was pointing directly at Amethea´s breasts. His hand came down on Amethea´s left breast and he began kneading it brutally.

"Well, well. It seems we have that problem with your legs fixed, eh? You could have killed me, you whore!" His voice, soft at the beginning, now started to rise.

"You HURT ME, SLUT!" he cried in anger, his hand squeezing her tit as hard as he could.

Amethea clenched her teeth and endured the pain in her crushed mammal flesh.

"Still not screaming, aren´t you? Well, we can fix that, as well!" He let go of her crushed breast and picked up a whip. Amethea couldn´t suppress a shudder as she looked at it. It had a wooden handle, wrapped in leather stripes. It had four leather tails. Each tail contained a number of iron balls. Still she fought to keep her stony composure of contempt although she dreaded what was to come.

"I take it that there are a number of things you would like to do to me if our positions were reversed!" Zohar purred, running the tails of the whip over the bound woman´s naked breasts. The iron balls were tugging at Amethea´s nipples, promising to give rise to horrible pain.

"But whatever you would do to me, would be child´s play compared to what I am going to do to you, whore!"

He raised the whip high over his head and brought it down on Amethea´s breasts with brutal force.

Sheer agony exploded in her mammal globes. The blow of the whip covered her entire bosom, the leather cords biting into her flesh and the iron balls striking her breasts like the hardest hail imaginable. Every muscle in Amethea´s body was taut and she trembled in her herculean effort to hold back the scream of pain, which tried to fight it´s way out of her lungs.

The only sound that did escape in the end was her heavy, rapid breathing. Crimson, bloodshot lines and dots appeared on her franticly heaving breasts. The pain made her head spin and her stomach clench. She briefly wondered whether her breasts would ever feel the same again, whether she would ever be able to breastfeed a child after this attack on her bosom.

Then the second blow hit her. Zohar did not merely strike down on her breasts. This time he rather pulled back the whip just before the tails made contact with her fleshy globes. The result was that the four tips of the whiptails with their iron balls were building up even greater speed before trashing into her left breast, singling it out for a devastating blow. Amethea´s face offered a display of suffering, which would break every sane man´s heart. For Zohar it was just another stimulant for his twisted pleasure.

She still denied herself the tiny relief of voicing her pain. Since she was completely defenseless and had no way of stopping her torturer from doing to her whatever his fancy was, she had only one pitiable small stand to make. And that was denying him the additional pleasure of listening to her screams.

Zohar was well aware of that. And he didn´t mind at all. Some started screaming and begging for mercy, before he even began the torture; some started later on.

In the end, they all screamed for him. This one would be no exception.

"My, you are stubborn, aren´t you? You think you putting on a sword make you a warrior? You think you are tough, don´t you my sweet? We will see just how tough you really are, won´t we?"

He raised the whip again and brought it down with all his strength. Only this time he was bringing it down on Amethea´s cunt.

The tails of the whip were crackling against her labial lips, the iron balls adding to the impact in the most horrific way. And this time Amethea screamed at the top of her lungs. The sound of it gave Zohar´s cock a surge of pleasure, hardening it to it´s full size.

"Well…." He said as the woman´s cry subsided. "I guess we found ourselves a soft spot there, wouldn´t you agree?"

He was bending down bringing his face closer to hers, so he could observe the tears filling her eyes more closely. Amethea spat in his face.

Zohar got up to his full height, wiping of the saliva from his face with the sleeve of his jacket.

"Insolence. Why do I always have to put up with this insolence?" he lamented, as if Amethea was a disobedient pupil and he the ever-patient teacher.

"Now, let´s see if your soft spot will make you sing for me! Surely you know some wonderful songs I´d like to hear!"

With that he hit her cunt again. The pain was so terrible, that Amethea nearly passed out. Unfortunately she remained conscious and screamed out in hellish agony.

"Aaah…yes!" Zohar mocked. "That´s exactly the kind of song I´d like to hear from you, my sweet!"

He hit her again. And again.

Each time, the whip covered all of her completely exposed labia. Each time it brought her pain, she had never dreamed of being capable of taking.

Her body arched on the table - the only slight movement the bonds allowed it to make. She was shaking her head from side to side, as blow after blow landed on her tortured cunt. The muscles in her thighs were clenching and unclenching frantically in a pitiably hopeless attempt to close her legs and protect her sex against the terrible beating. And her screams filled the torture chamber, each time following the sickening sound of leather and iron slapping against the tenderest part of a woman´s body.

Then, after a dozen strokes or more, the beating stopped.

Amethea was panting, catching her breath after the screaming. Her breasts were heaving rapidly. Tears were freely flowing down the sides of her head.

"Why?! Such a fierce warrior-woman and crying already? It seems that soft spot of yours makes you considerably less tough then you think you are! Doesn´t it, whore?!" Zohar reached down and patted Amethea´s cunt with his free hand, as if her sex was a dog, which had pleased his master by learning a new trick.

Amethea managed to suffer the slapping of her now hypersensitive labia with clenched teeth and a deep sob of pain.

Her helplessness almost made her burst out in fresh tears. The cuffs held her legs spread wide open, mercilessly, and there was nothing she could do to protect herself, nothing standing between her exposed womanhood and the twisted cruelty of her tormentor.

Smiling knowingly, Zohar slapped her cunt one last time with all his might. Amethea screamed in fresh agony and Zohar giggled maliciously.

"You don´t like that, don´t you? No one ever treated that whore-slit of yours like this, hmmm? All you knew about is being caressed there and having it filled with the unwashed member of one of your tribe´s savage males, no?"

He began poking at her cunt with the handle of his whip. Amethea stared at him in pure hatred and disgust, steeling herself against whatever was coming.

"But in here," Zohar said, making a sweeping gesture at his torture chamber, "that whore-slit of yours is put to quite a different kind of use!" With that the respite for Amethea ended. Zohar raised the whip for a new blow and gave her a devastating one on her cunt.

The woman yelled out even louder as before. One of the iron balls had hit her directly on her clit.

Her torturer sighed in satisfaction and lowered the whip. Amethea lay there, trembling in pain, her eyes closed and her clenched teeth shining whitely through her full, red lips. A tear protruding from her right eye and rolling down her face.

Zohar stepped back from her side and moved in front of her. He positioned himself right between her widespread legs. The table was crafted in the exactly appropriate height to position Amethea´s cunt at exact level with Zohar´s hard cock. His member was fully aroused and pointing straight up.

As it always did, when female flesh was punished.

He watched Amethea´s sweat-glistening body for a moment – her heaving breasts, her firm, trembling belly and her ruthlessly exposed womanhood, merely an inch away from his erected member.

He then took a grip on his cock, forcing it down and pushing its head against her aching labia.

Amethea grunted in repulsion as she felt his flesh against hers. But any attempt at resistance was rendered totally hopeless by her bonds. Spread out like she was, she could not offer the slightest defense against the intrusion whatsoever.

Zohar`s hard cock slid into her wide-open pussy without any effort.

With a surge of tingling pleasure, he felt her silky flesh covering his member as he glided all the way in, until his pubic hairs mingled with hers and his balls pressed against her tight ass-cheeks.

He pulled back only to push himself back in, making Amethea groan.

Although short in height, Zohar´s member was quite large, as if the gods wanted to compensate his diminished growth with a substantial tool for pleasuring women.

So Amethea felt her cunt-shaft filled to its threshold by the intruding member of her tormentor as it glided in and out of her in slow, casual strokes.

Each thrust made her moan involuntarily. Those were no sounds of pleasure, of course. Her cunt-lips were beaten raw by the whip and the friction of Zohar´s cock moving against them caused her intense pain.

Knowing this only added to Zohar´s pleasure as he fucked his helpless victim.

He caressed her firm belly and groped her still pain-throbbing breasts. He put his hands around their bases and squeezed them, turning her soft globes into two taut balls of tight flesh.

Inside, Amethea howled in despair as he molested her. But she fought to betray as little of the pain and humiliation she felt as possible.

Again and again she tested the strength of her bonds, only to realize that there was no way to escape them; that she could do NOTHING to defend herself.

Hold on. She told herself. Endure this…somehow. He will spend himself inside you, he may torture you again. But sooner or later he will have to release you, so he can do something….different to you. And then you will kill him. You´ll get another chance.

 He will not torture you bound to this table forever.

But from deeper inside her, somewhere beneath her stern determination, there was another voice speaking to her.

Perhaps not forever. The new voice piqued. But don´t you think he will enjoy you in this position for quite some time? After all, he doesn´t merely enjoy hurting you….he obviously enjoys hurting you THERE quite thoroughly. You do understand that it is your pain that makes his member hard, no? You do understand that it is your pain that makes him feel THAT pleasure, don´t you?

So what makes you think that he will not keep you like this for the next torture? Don´t you think he will torture you THERE again? And rape you right afterwards? Because hurting you THERE makes him feel THAT pleasure again? Let us be candid: you do realize that you should savor his rape of your body, no? Surely that´s the least painful of all the inevitable things you´ll still have coming.

Amethea grinded her teeth and clenched her fists as she silently cursed the second voice and told it to shut up.

Zohar fucked her calmly, using up every inch of his cock and her cunt-shaft for his pleasure. He gazed down at her.

“You want to hurt me again, don´t you? You´d like to kill me slow! Don´t you, slut?!”

He pulled his cock back, holding just the very tip of his member at the entrance of her pussy. Then he rammed his cock inside her with a horrible, brutal thrust that made her cry out in pain.

He pulled back again. Again holding his cock-head just barely inside her pussy, his hands holding tight around her slim waist.

“You´ll pay dearly!” he said and rammed his cock back in with brutal force, making her cry anew. He relished in the feeling of her tender, silky flesh being forced aside by his huge prong. He watched her breasts jiggle with the force of his attack inside her with delighted fascination.

He repeated the act again. And again. And again.

Each horrible, brutal thrust made Amethea yelp in pain. As much as she desired to keep her silence, those testimonies of her ravishment were beyond her power to contain.

After a dozen, or so, of these perfidious and painful jabs into her cunt, Zohar proceeded to rape his victim with normal pace and strength.

Calmly and leisurely, he moved his cock back and forth inside her silky tunnel and Amethea lay there and felt disdained surprise by the fact, that her rapist had not spend himself inside her; nor that he seemed to be especially aroused by the rape.

He kept fucking her in complete control of his lust and showed no indication of reaching the climax of his pleasure, anytime soon.

Amethea raised his head and peered between her twin breasts-globes down the length of her body. She saw her flat, taut belly and the fair-colored pubic hair of her crotch. She could see Zohar´s thick, long member appearing and disappearing as she felt it gliding back and forth inside her.

She grated her teeth in new horror as she felt something, she had not felt since the last time she and Argan had made love by the fireplace inside his hut.

A tiny spark of pleasure came to live inside her belly, growing and growing with each thrust of this vile creature´s cock inside her. Her neither lips began to swell and her clit began to send tiny ripples of delightful heat into her belly. Ripples that slowly but steadily grew into waves of lust.

Amethea had no intention of feeling that pleasure, of course. Just as Zohar had no intention of giving her pleasure. But as much as she hated and despised her tormentor, her body was designed for responding in this manner. Although her body still was in pain from the racking and the beating, it held no memory of the one responsible for it´s pain. Her body only reacted to the steady stimulation of its sexual organs in that way, nature had designed it to.

And to her dismay, the pleasure grew and grew. It began to overwhelm her senses and seize control over her body, separating it from her mind and power of will.

Her breathing became heavier, her breasts began to swell and harden and her ravaged, beaten pussy-lips began to moisten and coating Zohar´s prong.

Amethea fought desperately against the pleasure and felt more degraded than ever before during her captivity. Although the pain of torture was far worse for her body than the pleasure, the rape caused her – the latter was far more painful for her warrior soul.

Betrayed by her body she shook her head to and fro as her tongue gave voice to her helpless raunchiness.

“UUUUNGGHHH….AAAAAAAHHH……UNNGGGHH….OOOOOHHH!!”

Zohar´s cock moved back and forth inside her, relentlessly. He looked down at her with a sneering smile on his face, watching her tied-down body´s squirming, the reddening of her cheeks and chest and listening to her grunts and sobs of helpless lust.

“Whore!” he hissed, resuming her punishment with one horribly viscous thrust into her cunt that made her yelp in agony.

“Slut!” he spat and gave his captive another attack of his hard male flesh with all his might.

He then speeded up his ramming into her slightly. His hands came up to her chest and he began rolling her rock-hard nipples with his thumbs.

Amethea´s head was spinning and her cunt and breasts were sending unbearable surges of pleasure into her broiling, churning belly. She felt his cock ramming into her with quick, lustful strokes. The constant rubbing of his hard member at her clit shot wave after wave of lust through her loins. His hands caressed her swollen, hardened breasts tenderly… only to attack them in the next second. His fingers dug into her mammal flesh, taking a grip on her nipples and twisting and pulling at them.

Amethea laid there, her body squirming in its bonds just as it had mere moments before under the pain of torture. The bindings made the lust that overwhelmed her senses even more unbearable, denying her even the slightest relief a woman being free of restraints could get in such heat of passion by moving her body in harmony with the motions of her lover. No, Amethea was condemned to almost total immobility and had to endure the lust as defenseless as she had to endure the pain before.

She desperately struggled against the bonds, holding her down, as her pleasure mounted. Feelings of self-worth and hatred for her rapist were swept away by pure, carnal instincts. Almost dementedly, she tried to push her loins up to meet the prong ramming into her She arched her back in a mindless attempt to push herself against her rapist, taking him into her arms, wrapping her legs around his waist to bury his hard member even deeper into her quivering, wet cunt.

Her grunts of heated lust became cries of sheer, carnal bliss, which became louder and louder with each new stab into her cunt.

Then, suddenly, her eyes snapped wide open and her whole body stiffened.

 Her back arched as far as the bindings permitted her, then her body shook and trembled with so much force it came close to shaking the heavy oak tree table as well. The trembling went on and on as she screamed and babbled incoherently. Zohar felt her cunt contracting around his cock, sucking at it ferociously.

He gathered all his strength and power of will in order not to loose control, not to shoot his semen into that fair-haired trollop just yet.

He watched her convulsions ebbing down, listened to her mindless babbling subsiding. He stood there for a moment, wallowing in his complete mastery over her. Feeling pride in his prong having aroused this slut, even trough her pain.

Amethea laid there, the last of her strength swept away by reaching the peek of carnal passion. She was panting rapidly, her eyes closed and her face and her entire body covered in sweat.

But as the pleasure ebbed away, she was overwhelmed with anguish and shame. She felt ashamed, as she never has felt ashamed before in her life. And that shame rekindled her righteous ire. She did not want this to happen! She had no say in this!

And still, she felt like having given into her tormentor. Subjecting herself to his power over her. She fought against the desperation and shame rising in her soul. Eyes still closed, she set her jaw. Grinding her teeth and steeling her resolve.

This meant nothing.

She felt a hard slap against her right breast. She yelped in pain. Due to the beating and the sensual heat-weaves, which had ploughed through her breasts, the two mammal globes` sensitivity was heightened indefinitely.

Her eyes snapped open and she glared up at Zohar´s gloating face.

His cock was still inside her. And it was still hard. He resumed moving it back and forth inside the slippery wetness of her cunt.

“A whore!” he hissed, backhanding her left breast. “That´s all that you are. A wanton slut!”

He began fucking her hard, the pacing and force of his thrusts increasing.

“I´ll make you crawl and beg for this!” he spat, fucking Amethea with vicious brutality.

He reached for her throat with a wicked grin and took hold of the iron ring in front of the collar, she still wore. Then he began twisting it with swift turns of his hand.

Amethea realized, what he did to her and her eyes widened in anxiety. The collar tightened fast, closing her windpipe mercilessly. Within seconds, the woman was unable to breath.

Zohar continued fucking her as he watched her eyes bulging out, her arms and legs struggling with renewed desperation against the bonds holding them down on the table. Her instincts howled inside her mind to free her arms in order to remove the object at her throat as her lungs began to scream for air.

But it was utterly hopeless. As her arms and legs were pinned down, her trunk was the only movable part of her body. And it writhed piteously on the table, her stomach desperately heaving, her muscles clenching and unclenching. Her mouth was gaping open, as if she was a fish out of water.

Zohar watched in delight, as her fucked her relentlessly. He felt his climax approaching. Felt the surges of pleasure mounting inside his scrotum and hard member. All the time he watched her agony, felt her still-wet cunt contracting around his cock with the force of her struggle against suffocation.

He fought against the climax, endeavored to prolong his pleasure for as long as possible.

Amethea had been without air for two full minutes now, and still struggled against the horrifying ordeal her rapist enjoyed putting her through. The pain in her lungs was beyond description. She banged her head against the wooden surface of the table in mindless frenzy. There was nothing left in her mind except sheer and utter panic. Her face was darkly colored, now and her eyes were at the brink of popping out of their sockets.

Zohar was getting closer and closer at the edge as he watched her suffering. He felt his hot semen building up inside his cock, shooting through the length of his prong. Then hot gushes of white, salty seed shot into Amethea´s silky womb.

He sighed in pleasure as more and more of his semen sprayed into his victim´s tortured, convulsing body.

Amethea did not feel the final desecration of her body. She had been without air for almost four minutes and her struggles were weakening as her mind began to slip into blissful unconsciousness. Her vision was a dark-red haze that grew darker with each beat of her heart.

She felt the darkness claiming her mind, shutting down her tortured body.

Then she felt the collar releasing its grip.

Instantly, she took in the most desperate breath of her life, trying to take in all the air in the torture chamber with one gulp. The blackness retreated into the back of her mind as she exhaled and took in another gulp of air.

She breathed like being almost drowned.

She hardly noticed Zohar pulling his softening prong out of her. All she felt and knew was the sweet air filling her lungs, providing her body with life.

Zohar came to her side, looking down at her through slit eyes.

“Well, slut. I hope you enjoyed your little reprieve. But you kept me from our business for quite long enough.”

He took a grip of her right breast, kneading if brutally – and then yanking at it, repeatedly.

“Now, you will tell me why you came here. And you will tell me, where your rebel-friends are hiding!”

Amethea stared up at him with the same hatred, as mere three hours ago, when her questioning began.

Zohar sighed in feigned discouragement.

“Ah, well! Not much else sense can be expected for a savage like you, slut.”

He reached for the collar again, tightening it once more.

And as before, Amethea writhed and trashed on the wooden table, choked by the collar into total lack of air.

Zohar left her like that, as he retreated into his private side-chamber to clean himself up. And he took his time before he returned.

 

 

 

 

Tianara was lying in her cell.

The general had questioned her by singing her breasts. Then he had slapped her face and breasts. Then he had punched her stomach and rammed his knee into her crotch. Again and again and again.

After quite a while, he had let go of her. But only to assure her, that she was the next to be brought down to the torture chambers, just like her fair-haired rebel-friend.

“You will regret not telling me, what I wanted to know, slut!” the general spat at her.

“Down there you will suffer, like you never would have thought possible for a woman to suffer. And our torture-master does not settle down for making you talk, wench. He will make you beg for ALLOWING you to tell him everything you know!”

With that, Tianara was hurtled into her cell, naked with her hands manacled behind her back.

She tried not to think about the hopelessness of their situation. She tried not to think of Estrild and Taramis. She tried not to envision them being raped by the palace guards. She tried not to think about Amethea. Tried not to think about the pain, she undoubtedly must be suffering right now. She tried not to think about the same suffering waiting for her, as well.

Yes, she tried hard. And yet she failed.

 

At dawn, Amethea was laying in her cell, as well.

She was naked. Her arms manacled behind her back, her feet chained together as well. Her body was surprisingly unmarked and it would have surprised the black-clad, gloating guards, who had carried her naked and chained like this to her cell, had they known how much pain was actually gnawing away at Amethea´s body.

Zohar had used the collar to choke her nearly into unconsciousness several times. Then he had beaten her belly with a small, hard-wooden paddle. Then the paddle had danced on her breasts for several minutes.

After this, he asked his questions again. As she refused to talk, he focused his attentions to her wide-open crotch again. The paddle smashed against her inner thighs, her underbelly and against her labial lips for an hour, at least.

She screamed, as the wood crashed against her cunt-lips but still refused to talk.

Then he took a wooden club, half and inch wide and eleven inches in length.

He fucked her with it. Its hard wood filling her cunt-shaft to its limits, stretching her elastic tube painfully out. He made the tip of the club smashing against her cervix every time he thrust the large wood into her.

After that, he pulled the club out of her and produced a wooden rod, as thick as a man`s finger. At its tip there was a hard, round iron ball of the size of an eyeball attached. He used the rod to flog her cunt. Or, to be more precise: each and every one of the countless blows to Amethea´s cunt drove the iron ball smashing directly on her tender clit. Each and every one.

Despite all her pain she had suffered, the woman managed to hold back her screams during the first dozen blows. But after the twelfth she began to give voice to her agony. And she remained doing so during the remaining 50 – 60 blows; Zohar bequeathed the tenderest part of her womanhood.

Amethea was barely conscious, as someone interrupted her torturer´s beating of her clit by knocking at the heavy, wooden door to the torture chamber.

She could not hear, what was said could hardly care. The world, her senses could register, was shrunk to her body and the pain it suffered. All else was outside her capacity. Her world was her clit and the horrendous, pulsating, nauseating pain it send into her belly.

The next, she knew, was her being taken from the bench by several guards. They manacled her arms and feet and carried her lifeless, limp body like a sack of coals outside the chamber, along a corridor and up the stairs to the prisoner´s cells.

Arriving there, they threw her onto the ground of the cell.

She lay there for long hours as the sun climbed higher outside. The pain, she felt was devastating. Her cunt was a blazing ache, that just wouldn´t go away. Her breasts were two hot, pulsating globes of agony. Even the most cautious movement, she made, that caused her breasts to shift their position on her chest in the slightest made her yelp and wince in pain.

Hunger and thirst gnawed away at her body, as well.

Amethea wondered, why her torture had been interrupted. She recalled Arrakur “expecting answers in the morning”. She was sure that she had not betrayed her allies. Had Tianara been broken? That was possible, of course.

For a second, Amethea felt relief that Tianara had given up the information and their now was no more reason for her to be tortured anymore.

She felt a pang of shameful guilt at the thought and cursed herself for her moment of weakness and the foolishness of that idea.

She had seen the look in Arrakur´s eyes as he watched her racked on that infamous instrument in Zohar´s dungeon the night before. He was just like his torture-master. A creature that felt a man´s pleasure when he caused a woman pain.

It did not matter, if Tianara talked. Amethea knew, that even if she herself talked, Arrakur would still have her tortured for the pure pleasure of it.

And she had no doubt, that it would be a long suffering for her. For if Arrakur derived as much pleasure from the beauty of her body as he did from causing it pain, he would have Zohar torture her in such a way, that she would suffer indescribable pain without having her beauty destroyed, for as long as possible.

And she was sure of it that Zohar was capable of prolonging her suffering without damaging her beauty much longer, than she dared to imagine.

And what would he do to Taramis, if he found out, that she was Amethea`s sister? Did  Estrild get away? Or was she a prisoner, just like her?

Were Argan and the others even still alive?

A wave of despair swept over her. Amethea listened carefully, if there were any guards patrolling the cell-corridor at the moment. There weren´t any.

So, the warrior-woman let out a sob of anguish. A sob, that was followed by another….and another.

And soon she began to cry, her tears flowing freely, her chest heaving through her gut wrenching sobs of misery….sending fresh surges of pain through her maltreated breasts.

Was there any way out of this?

 

 

 

 

To be continued in….

 

Chapter 3:

Playthings of His Excellency