The following totally fictitious writings of Faibhar are intended for the sole
readership of those of LEGAL AGE. The ADULT ONLY material contained within is
also for personal use only where local standards permit scenes of extreme
violence, torture, sex and crucifixion. Please do not read further if any of
these subjects offend, or if you are not of legal age.
This constitutes PART ONE of The Accidental Surgeon.
Your sole enjoyment and cooperation in not using this story in any other
application without the express permission of the author is requested.
Thank you.
Faibhar
The Accidental Surgeon
Centuries would pass before the arrival of castles and shining knights;
for now courage and stamina necessarily meant more to royals. The ability to
defend from attackers took precedence over noblesse oblige. Parental training
coupled with individual talents in the martial arts had, until now, successfully
defended those lands. But overwhelmed by attacking forces her royal court now
consisted of a dusty lot baked by broiling sun, attendants fat black bodied
flies and the occasional curious lizard. She knelt held, wrists lashed behind
her back, a course noose around her neck, tethered like a common animal. Despite
the humiliating defeat and followed by hours spent kneeling, cracked and parched
earth her only kneeler, courage and stamina that had served well in the past
refused to yield; Katana fought the bindings, frustrated once more as her
bondage held. Now a prisoner stripped of all regalia except for a cowhide top
and skirt. Humble though the brief ensemble was its owner announced a truly
regal bearing despite unwittingly firing a cauldron of lust to too many. A
remarkable chest shown above the leather, tops of breasts rolling forth like
creamy clouds bursting for freedom, their effect accentuated by bare muscled
arms pulled behind. A dramatic narrowing led to a tight waist that later swelled
to curvaceous hips atop defined thighs. What one could see, and there was much
to see, left little doubt of the warrior's sex. Mussed golden strands loosed in
the tussle framed a living portrait of pulchritude that featured full rose lips
and intelligent hazel eyes ablaze with sparkle. A portrait composed on a honeyed
vanilla complexion canvas currently overheated in the merciless sun. Katana
shifted restlessly. She wished she could reach her eyelids, but with hands
pinned behind she could only blink her eyes clear.
Human activity stirred past shimmering waves of heat at the far end of
the lot. Katana willed her eyes to see. Two soldiers appeared and marched
closer. Coarse hair covering stout legs came into greater focus. Rustling mail
signaled their imminent arrival. Flies panicked and scattered. She pretended to
ignore the men and stared down at the jagged cuts above deep crevasses torn in
the dried dirt. Lizards sensitive to too much had long since scurried away.
"You! Up!" Katana continued to keep her face cast downward. "Here," one of them
growled as he slid ands under her arms and lifted. "You come."
"If they must insist on a female to lead them, they at least picked one
with looks." Katana thought she recognized the speaker by its seedy voice alone
but the sole light in the gloomy chamber came from above and the voice came from
the darkness. A shaft of sunlight poured down from a ceiling grate. She and the
two who had brought her stood in its illumination. The rest of the room was
impossible to see. One of the men took a knee. She felt his fingers undoing the
straps of her boots. The other undid her wrists. Katana held them before her.
For a moment she saw the raw lines struggles with the rope had incurred. "Cuff
her wrists and ankles," the disembodied, somewhat familiar voice said.
Katana glanced at the thick veins glistening down her forearms as metal
cuffs locked around each wrist. With her boots her feet felt cooler on the stone
floor. Hands pulled apart her legs, a feeling similar to the action on her
wrists snapped around her ankles. Into the beam of light pointed a gnarled
finger. The ring atop the extended digit signified its owner, her torturer.
Soporanus, the evil despot so vile even his own people could hardly stand him,
sent by superiors distant enough so that he could indulge his sadistic
depravity, yet close enough that the pervert's wildest indulgences did not miss
their governing attention. Despite the gleaming impressiveness of the ring's
golden seal, the index finger bearing it looked like some rotted miniature wagon
wheel spindle cast too long underwater. The finger with its ring shook. "You may
know that I am Soporanus, appointed leader of this region." A blast of fury met
her nemesis even as shackles snapped at locked ankles and chains pulled out
arms, effectively negating any counterattack.
"What you may not be aware of is our peoples' respect for the tolerance
of pain. All regardless of sex or station in life aim to so heed this
expectation." More of her enemy came into view. The rest of him looked every bit
as mottled and barnacled as his rotted finger. Purple hues of the toga draping
the cadaverous looking Soporanus echoed what the ring announced. "Especially our
leaders ...and other so-called leaders such as yourself. That is why I have
prepared for this moment in advance. A challenge to your integrity as a leader
if you will."
Stooped and balding, the man had to be over sixty Katana thought. His
breath reeked. She moved to strike the leering face but chains locked to wrist
manacles caught any hope of forward motion. The stymied effort frustrated "Today
we will attempt to break you. Learn what you can and cannot take both as a woman
and of course as I mentioned a leader. No doubt you will break. Tomorrow when
you are crucified will of course be much more public than our somewhat exclusive
meeting here. But feel free to yell your head off anytime and forget about
retaining any notion of respect. We won't mind..."
Katana peered into the darkness facing her. From the gloom she heard
others chuckle. All that was visible was a solid wall of black. She looked back
to Soporanus who briefly turned and then pulled a small table into the sunlight.
Many of the instruments on the table she recognized, some she did not. "My
friends do have fun at times," Soporanus said as he acknowledged the others and
stood alongside the table with its small polished tools. "Laughing especially
when I tell them of my hobby as a surgeon. An accident helped me along, really.
One day when I was a young general returning from some victory or other our
local surgeon just keeled over. Naturally as the commander in charge, I took
over the poor man's responsibilities. When all was said and done, I kept his
equipment and that brings us here with you today."
Katana wanted to spit in his gap-tooth face but held to a mere snarl.
More frustration raged as she again fought the restricting chains. Instinct
spurred the urge to lash out and then she held back. Teeth clenched as she saw
Soporanus gingerly lift a small scalpel from the table into the sunlight as if
to inspect the keenness of its finely honed edge and say in his wheezy voice, "
Let's start with that top of yours, shall we? It does need to first be removed
before we can truly begin to judge just how well you can earn our respect and
meet our...expectations."
