Age of Penance - The Tear of Sarwen

“SNAPPP!” The leather tip landed hard between Jennee’s uncomfortably spread legs, right on her already much abused labia.

- “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiihhhhhhhhhh!”

The predicament she was enduring offered a particularly enticing spectacle to the sadistic rogue who was swinging his whip behind her. The young nordic blonde was standing with legs forced wide open almost in a splits position, her big toes tied with coarse hemp string to eyebolts set into the floor on each side. She was bent forward horizontally, her torso pushed down by her arms tied together behind her back and pulled in a tight strappado, with her shoulder bent and pressured to their limit. The position was awkward and unstable, and she had to actively work to maintain herself in that precarious balance despite her shaking. If she failed and lost control, her bondage might very well pull her joints past their tearing point. And as if her predicament was not sufficient, Draven’s leather whip kept striking right between her legs, turning her intense discomfort into a terrifying ordeal. “SSSNAP!” “SSSNAP!”

- “Aaaaaaaaaaihhhhhhh! Aaaah! Aaaah! Mmmmmmmphhh!”

Her breath had accelerated with the last two strokes. She was shaking more and more. Draven could see both desperation and arousal rising in her eyes with the intensity of her predicament.

- “You do not have permission to orgasm!” he ordered her, harshly.

- “mmmMMMMmmmh!” she squirmed in frustration.

Her plight was plain as day, with her submissive nature compelling her to obey while the painslut in her, desperate with lust, threatened to betray her resolve. Deciding to help her out of her dilemma, Draven carefully aimed his whip just a few inches to the right of her soaked pussy, and drew a wide but lightning fast gesture with only one purpose, to hurt. The tip landed exactly where he wanted and whiplashed at the precise moment it made contact, cutting clean right through the skin and spraying a small drizzle of blood around her inner thigh.

- “AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” 

She buckled and screamed and immediately regretted losing her balance. Her torso twisted and she bent a knee, and what little leg support she had been able to maintain immediately vanished. Her toe got pulled uncomfortably to the side, and her shoulder twisted at a strange angle right into unstable territory. The pain from the self-inflicted contortion kicked in, sending her screaming in a bout of panic.

- “NoooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAHHH!” 

It took considerable effort and a high pitched grunt for her to catch herself, with her face bright red and her heart pounding out of her chest. She had been very close to losing it, and Draven could see in her eyes there was more than pain and fear brewing inside her. In fact it looked like the experience had pushed her ever closer on the edge of a massive unauthorized orgasm. The rogue was absolutely fascinated by the way she was reacting to being pressed beyond her limits. 

- “Thank…. thank you… Sir…” she managed to utter with difficulty.

Draven’s cock was hard, bulging beneath his leather pants, and with her obedience in the face of distress was feeding his urge to keep increasing her punishment. He walked around to face her, taking the full measure of her sweaty wincing face. Looking her straight in the eyes, he ran the tip of his gloved fingers down her cheek, and finished with a small but firm slap which got a surprised and enticed moan from her, quickly followed by a pleading cry as every little disturbance to her balance was painful.

- “Mmmhh…. aaah…. please….!”

But Draven did not feel merciful. He decided to tighten her strappado rope further, pulling her wrists up and forward, adding even more tension to the already extreme strain on her shoulder. Her eyes were pleading for a reprieve, but that accomplished nothing. Instead, the more she was suffering, the more Draven wanted to hurt her.

- “This looks too comfortable for you, painslut!” he declared, turning his back on her.

Her eyes widened when she realized the rope he had just fetched was for her neck. He looped it three times around and tugged on it, before tying the ends up to a ceiling hook behind herk. The rope pulled her head up and constricted her neck, while adding even more pressure to her already hurting shoulders. She tried to wail but her now constricted airways turned even complaining into an ordeal.

- “aaaaahhhhhh… gghhhh…. khh….” she tried

Her face was quickly turning an intense puffy red and tears started to run down her cheeks. Her breathing was wheezy and difficult. It was clear her position was getting harder and harder to hold, with the ropes on her neck and her wrists pulling in opposite directions, and the stress on her joints compounding her distress. Draven’s blood was boiling, the brutality of her ordeal and her willingness to endure it was driving him mad with desire and arousal.

Without waiting he sprung his rock hard oversized shaft out and pushed its throbbing tip against her mouth. She was in pain, struggling with her balance, her twisted joints and her breathing, but as soon as she saw his cock, she made a heroic effort to open her mouth wide and pull her tongue forward. What a remarkable slut, the rogue thought to himself, impressed that even in her predicament she understood that only his pleasure mattered.

He pushed himself inside her, his glans sliding up her wet tongue then pressing against the back of her mouth. Her throat was tight and the pressure from his cocked forced her whole body back, further increasing the tension on her already outstretched shoulders, and completely blocking her airways. He felt her tense-up in the struggle but she did not break and kept her mouth wide open. He gave her just a sliver of hope when he slightly relieved the pressure, but then immediately thrusted in again harder, and then again, each time torturing her shoulders, each time threatening her balance, and each time depriving her of air a little longer.

Finally, he pulled out again, testing her with the opportunity of one last out, one last chance to break-down and plead for his mercy. Her face was dark red, her eyes were puffy and snot ran down from her nose while slime dripped the corner of her mouth. Her whole body was shaking simply from the effort it took to maintain herself in position, she was drawing on the very last bit of her strength and standing right on the brink of collapse. She was at her most vulnerable, and yet she held strong, she did not yield.

He placed his right hand behind her head and pushed his pulsating member back into her warm open mouth. Tightening his core, he pressed with all his strength wedging his much too wide cock against the back of her mouth, until it slowly, forcibly wedged itself all the way down her rope-constricted throat. Her whole body tensed up, rebelling against her willing submission, but in vain. There was nothing she could do, neither could she move nor breathe. His cock applied agonizing force on her throat hole and not only choked her, but pushed the flesh of her frail neck against the much too tight rope. Back and forth, with the strength of a bull he started to fuck her mouth, each time compressing his cock and distending her throat when he pushed in, only sometimes allowing a small amount of air when he pulled back.

There was something extraordinary about the communion of his abuse and her willingness to take it. It was as if a knife had found the perfect match of a wound to twist in. She had accepted his gift of pain and honored it beyond even her own survival instinct. She was truly submitting to him, and the feeling it was bringing Draven was alleviating all the insanity of the past days, the brutal ascension, the enraged bear, the fight at the convent and shape-shifting demon assassins. All of it was being swept away by their intense connection, their exchange of pleasure and pain.

As so when he felt her shaking uncontrollably around the cock wedged inside her throat, he understood immediately what was happening. The air deprivation, her sore body being pushed well past its limits, the lashes on her cunt that had to still burn and sting, had finally fanned the submissive fires in her loins beyond her control, she was coming. The thought of her finding her pleasure in this ordeal brought him over the edge, and he unloaded spurt after spurts down her throat hole while grunting like a beast. It took him a long moment to recover from the massive orgasm, but when he finally pulled out, he did not waste any time to confront her.

- “You came, pain whore!”

She simply looked at him, still trapped in her bondage, her face red and disheveled, with a bridge of slime hanging from her mouth to the tip of his softening cock. Her eyes looked empty and glazed like her mind had been completely fried. And, as if he needed anymore proof, there was a puddle of juices on the floor right beneath her cunt. 

He promptly freed her arms and her ankles, severed the rope tying her neck to the ceiling but he left the constricting loops in place securing them with a knot. She collapsed on the floor, her abdomen expanding and contracting in fast shallow breaths, her eyes closed, her fingers twitching, and her hips involuntarily twisting forward once in a while like a bitch in heat unable to shake the desire of being fucked over and over.

He did not give her much time to rest. He grabbed and dragged her by her hair to her small iron cage in the corner. Despite her state she managed to pull herself together and obediently climbed in, crouching and bending herself to fit in the tiny prison. 

- “Wrists!” he ordered.

She offered them immediately, extending her hands through the bars. He seized both arms with one hand, yanked them forward, and tied them together out of the cage with a rope up above her elbows. She found herself forced to oddly contort her body, trapped against the cold metal bars with her head tilted to the side and her legs searching for support against the back of the cage. He then grabbed her nipples, pulled them through the bars, and secured them in a thin metal press which he tightened until her nipples and areolas bulged out of it. She was now secure against the cold bars both by her arms and her tits, in yet another truly uncomfortable position, to the satisfaction of the rogue.

- “You’ll think twice about coming without permission next time!” he said, before throwing her a dismissive “Goodnight!”

When he finally slipped beneath the sheets of his warm and comfortable bed, he felt calmed and relaxed, ready for a much deserved night of sleep. Rest came easily to him, cradled by the sweet clangs of Jennee’s shifting uncomfortably in her cage while attempting to keep her cries quiet. The last he heard from her was a murmur of “no no… gods… no please.” Just as he had foreseen, her helplessness and discomfort was driving her wild again, and she was once more desperately fighting off an uncontrolled and forbidden orgasm.

* - *

The sun was already high when Draven unmounted his horse in front of the Stormguard command building. He had slept late being much too comfortable in his own bed. Before setting off he had indulged once more in his exhausted and sore but still overstimulated whipping girl, driving his cock hard inside her cunt, and culminating in one last mutual orgasm. He had left her chained to her bedpost, finally able to rest free of any ordeal. 

On his way to the Stormguard quarters, the streets of Cragvale had looked different from just a few days ago. The city was teeming with the newly arrived Ducal escort soldiers, and the Iron Slave’s naked weathered bodies were hard at work erecting gallows on the central square, Cragvale felt more and more like an occupied city. But this was not all, local women had also taken to walking the streets with their tops down and the front of their dresses pulled up, baring their breasts and pussy for all to see. Many even harboring marks of recent beatings, the fortified city was indeed starting to bend under the will of its new rulers.

Draven climbed the stairs and entered the command room just as Liam was leaving, the soldier greeting him with a respectful nod. Lord Commander Steren greeted the rogue as soon as he saw him.

- “Draven! Would you talk some sense into this fool? I’ve never known a soldier so stubborn!”

- “Lord Commander?” Draven replied, a questioning look on his face. 

- “He will neither accept gold nor a promotion, his thick skull doesn’t want any of it unless I grant him permanent ownership of this girl Elsa… or something. Can you believe it?”

- “Elsie?”

- “Yes, that one. The traitor girl.”

- “If I may, not that surprising, Lord Commander. He grew quite fond of the girl during the raid. Why not indulge him?”

- “The inquisition wants her on the gallows tomorrow, that’s why. The whole lot of you and your special demands are a pain in my arse. What happened to simple, good old greed for gold?”

That jab was aimed not only at Liam but at Draven as well. But the rogue didn’t take the bait, instead he took a step to the side and peeked to the corner of the room behind the commander’s desk, searching for the source of a recurring soft whimper. There he discovered the naked body of a girl curled in a ball and crying, her back and her ass bearing deep bruises, and the crack of her legs dripping in white slime. He thought he recognized one of the novice sisters, taken prisoner from the convent.

- “I see Liam’s not the only one who’s looking to enjoy the spoils of victory in the flesh…”

- “Oh that’s just for a bit of temporary fun, Draven. And believe me, this ungrateful bitch’s having it good compared to those held by the Inquisition. She should be thanking me.” He answered, giving her a lewd look.

- “And what about the girl we talked about, the strong girl? Is she in Stormguard custody like I was promised?”

Steren looked at him with both annoyance and frustration.

- “Yes, that little beast of yours is in our jails right here, and she’s secure. But it won’t last. The Iron Slave Wardens will take her off our hands as soon as that circus on the central square is done. And then Gods only know where they will take her.”

- “Thank you Commander, I truly appreciate your help with this one.”

Draven was grateful. He had not yet fully decided what he would do with Brynn, but was glad the commander had bought him some time to think it through.

- “Ah, I growl but it’s no bother, really. Do not mention it. You’ve accomplished a great deed for Stormguard. And I will admit those righteous bastards in the Inquisition behave all too often like they own the place. I do not mind putting them in their place once in a while, and with the Duke now in town they will stay put.”

The inquisitor gave a strong friendly pad on the rogue’s shoulder. A true mark of appreciation from the old warrior. He continued.

- “Jael does want to see you though, he insisted on it. He is not a man you refuse, I told him I would send you his way.”

Draven nodded, wondering if Jael’s request was related to the events in the temple.

- “Don’t look so grim in victory, Draven!” Steren continued, “You accomplished a great deed, good things could come your way too. What do you long for? Gold? You own command? You could have all this and more!”

- “You have my sincere thanks, Lord Commander. All this sounds good, but for now, safe access to the girl is sufficient.”

- “Get out of here then, I won’t let your gloom spoil my fun,” the commander finally concluded before turning his attention back to the sobbing girl laying in the corner. 

Draven left and walked down the stairs to the sounds of her “Please… no…. please…. aaaahah!” echoing behind him.

* - *

The inquisitor was standing with his back turned to the entrance of his study. He was observing the busy courtyard through the distorting glass of his large window. Down below, the last of the sisters were being taken in and lined up in the dirt. The guards were screaming at them over and over how worthless their life now was, whipping them as needed into proper submissive pose. And one by one, they were inevitably dragged away to the dungeons.

- “I must thank you,” Jael initiated without turning to face the rogue, “none of this would have been possible without your ingenuity. Women are such weak beings, more often than not they break at the hand of my Men before we have a chance to learn anything. But you, you got that servant girl to betray her kind and open that witch nest for us. An impressive achievement, and a great service to the will of the Gods. You both did good.”

Draven only then noticed Silas standing silently in the corner of the room, with whom he shared that last compliment.

- “I thank you, your Excellency,” the rogue replied to Jael.

Silas did not move.

- “And yet I am now told both the traitor girl and the monstrosity who was in the temple where three of my men perished would escape justice at our hands?” 

The pleasantries did not last long.

- “This was done with the blessing of your Master Assassin, your Excellency. And if your Excellency will allow me, in my view a fair token of gratitude given the role of Stormguard in the raid,” Draven replied.

Jael finally turned to him, his piercing inquisitive blue eyes fully focused on the rogue. Silas still kept silent.

- “Yes… an unfortunate concession in the heat of the moment, it appears” he said, throwing the Master Assassin a displeased look. “But it was not by his doing she was secured in Stormguard's hold so promptly my Men never even had a chance for a word. One can only wonder what would motivate such diligence, don’t you think?” 

Draven thought it best not to answer, however he surprisingly found it difficult not to reply, like the question itself demanded an answer. Jael's eyes were focused intensely on him. Although the inquisitor was standing several feet away, the rogue could feel his will being tested, his mind being probed… the pressure felt unnaturally strong… A spell, he was sure of it! As soon as this realization clicked in his mind, Draven refocused and pushed back while steering his thoughts away from the monsters in the temple, from Leana's words, and from Brynn’s display of power. He was scrambling for a safe haven in his mind, fighting the urge to answer with the truth. Against all expectations, it was Brynn’s embrace and kiss that saved him. When that image came to his mind he should have pushed it down, but instead he dove into it, instinctively, against reason. He trusted his instinct in the moment, and was immediately rewarded by a sense of safety and peace, as if the same blue light from the temple was spreading inside him. And suddenly, the Inquisitor’s probes were not a threat anymore, his thoughts were secure. The spell waned like a wave breaking on rocks. Brynn saved him a second time. But how, and why? Was this what Leana meant about their connections?

As he pushed his thoughts aside and raised his eyes, he found the Inquisitor's gaze to be full of rage but powerless. Draven had regained the upper hand, and even gathered enough confidence to go on the offensive.

 - “Your Excellency, does the fate of those women truly matter? The prize you were seeking, the Tear of Sarwen, it was secured and delivered, was it not?”

The words clearly triggered a spark of outrage in the Inquisitor’s eyes, even if the experienced man regained his composure almost immediately.

- “This is none of your concern. All but a cursed trinket which should never have been left in these witches hands. Thankfully retrieved by the true servant of the Gods.”

He tried to keep his calm but he was boiling inside, too much to fully contain himself.

- “But I would advise you, Sellsword, not to go babbling about things you simply cannot comprehend, for your own sake!”

The threat was not even veiled. But it didn’t matter to Draven, he already heard what he wanted to know. He has been suspicious about the pendant, since there had been no mention of it by the assassins after the battle, nor in the looting records. And now, Jael had confirmed it was in his possession, and that he did not want it known. Jael, displeased with the course of the conversation, simply ended it.

- “Guards, bring our friend here down to Nictis, let him see with his own eyes what fate awaits those working against us. Silas, go with him.”

* - *

The guards led Draven down the same corridor he took Elsie to her ordeal a few days back. A different girl was screaming through that door, this time likely from a sister being tortured. There were many cries echoing the halls as they walked, the Inquisition was showing no mercy to the newly captured girls.

They walked all the way down to the end, into the main questioning room. It was larger than the glorified cell where they had tortured Elsie, but still small enough to feel crowded and oppressive. A group of men was chatting in the center, and around them, three women were bound, one on each side of the room. The man who seemed at the center of it all stepped towards them as soon as they entered. He was older, bald with a black beard striped in white on each side of his chin. His face was pale, his eyes as lively as they were dark. He was dressed in full black robes, with leather boots visible underneath. Around his neck he wore a remarkable silver pendant shaped as a naked woman hanging upside down with her arms wide open, which the rogue recognized as representing the Inversion, one of the Inquisition’s preferred methods of executing heretic women. The man addressed Draven with a cold and chilling voice, even if his tone seemed enthusiastic:

- “You must be Draven. I am told I owe you the pleasure of hosting these three meat bags in my dungeon!”

Draven respectfully nodded back. Although the man appeared friendly his voice was genuinely off putting.

- “I am Scourge Nictis. I remind the will of the Gods to heathen cunts. But really to them, I am simply an instrument of pain. 

Drave had heard of Inquisition scourges although he had never met one in the flesh. They were feared across the realm as the cruelest of the pain givers, called to torture and execution the worst of the rebels.

- “But you have dabbled in the art, have you not? You are the one who broke that traitor cunt and found the way in, are you not?

- “Indeed,” Draven simply responded. 

- “I wish I could have been there to see it, I am always fascinated to see others make cunts scream, there is always so much to learn.”

He stepped closer to the rogue, before continuing.

- “Extracting information from these cuntbags is a difficult and burdensome task, I know it all too well. Thankfully sometimes, the Gods reward us with a chance to simply hurt them. I personally consider it the purest form of this art. And I thank you, my good friend, for today is such a day. Let me introduce you to the three meat bags!”

- “Please,” the rogue replied.

Draven had always been enthusiastic about inflicting pain to women. It was the way of the world and the order of things, and he also found a profound sexual pleasure in it. However there was something different in Nictis’ demeanor, something cold blooded and heartless. Nictis stepped towards the wall on the right.

- “I believe you faced the old witch in battle. Be assured that we have taken all our precautions here, and we are perfectly safe from its spells.”

Mother Leana was nude and tightly bound on a heavy wooden chair. The chair itself was shaped like a throne, sturdy legs and a tall back, but with its armrests angled to the side so the subject would sit with her arms and legs open. The seat itself was split in half and left a hole in the center so the genitalia and asshole area would remain fully accessible for abuse.

The head mother was tightly secured in the chair, arms and legs opened. The wound on her shoulder had been cleaned and stitched, but the area around it was still red and inflamed, and it was clearly causing severe pain to the elderly woman. She had leather belts securing arms and forearms tightly to the chair, as well as tying her chest both above and below her breasts, and one more digging into her abdomen. Her legs were also tied, opened of course, putting her hairless pussy in full view of everyone in the room. Her mouth was stuffed with an iron O-ring, with her tongue stretched and pulled by a long clamp barring the ring horizontally. On both hands, her fingers had been immobilized by U-shaped nails hammered into the wood. With no way for her to gesture or articulate a single word, her spellcasting abilities were effectively incapacitated. 

Draven found himself once again stunned by her shapes in spite of her advanced age. Her generous breasts were only slightly sagging down her fit chest, she had little excess fat, and only bore a few wrinkles on the skin around her pussy. The bruises scattered on her body showed she had not been treated kindly by her captors. Her eyes were red with tears, but Draven couldn’t tell if it was from the pain or from seeing her two companions caught in the same predicament she was. Only after closer examination did Draven notice the chair had been lined with sharp pyramidal studs, similar to those on Elsie’s spreader but taller and sharper.

- “There is no such thing as enough pain for these sows,” Nictis said, “especially this one. Yes, the spikes can get very painful over time, and it just keeps getting worse the longer it digs into them, ” he explained while shifting his weight to press as hard as he could on her arm, pulling on her injured shoulder and driving the studs into her bruised flesh, drawing a long guttural scream from the older women who contorted her face from the pain. 

As he kept talking, it became increasingly clear that Nictis truly despised women. There was a clear intonation of disgust and extreme condescension every time he mentioned a prisoner. Draven even wondered if he truly considered them human, while the man continued.

- “A scream through a gagged mouth is the only sound tolerable from their kind, don’t you think?”  he added with a smirk on his face, “Don’t be fooled by their pleas though. It is in their true nature to need and crave pain, even if they won’t admit it.”

Nictis then walked across from Leana’s torture chair. There, a skinny chin-length haired platinum blonde was tied stretched on a X shaped cross, which was secured against the stone wall. Her wrists and ankles were cuffed in heavy leather straps, secured to chains pulling her limbs apart. She was very fit, her outstretched pose pushed her ribs forward beneath her small but firm breasts and pulled her flat stomach in. Her crotch was hairless just like Leana’s, with lips of the palest pink barely visible in her slit. She also had clearly been beaten up, she was heavily bruised and whip marks were noticeably wrapping around her sides from the back. But it was her hands who had received the most brutal treatment. Draven remembered how they had been pierced and tied together after the battle. He could see that each of her thin pale hands had been nailed again, from the back of her hands onto blocks of wood running from her wrists to her fingertips, effectively forbidding any hand gestures. 

Despite the brutal treatment, and despite the same O-ring and tongue clamp securing her mouth, her clear-blue, almost white eyes did not show any sign of resignation. No, her whole face expressed unrelenting fury at her captors, and it was clear from her ice cold stare as Nictis slid his hand along her naked side, that she would have murdered everyone in the room given half a chance.

- “This one is named Fiona,” Nictis explained. “It used its cursed powers to murder brave Inquisition warriors. Pure evil, but what else can we expect from their kind? I have specific instructions to inflict maximum pain on this one.”

He kept running his hand on her smooth skin.

- “This is not my first ice witch. You’ll see I understand quite well how they must be treated. Fire and heat hurts this type to their core, far worse than anything else.”

Before continuing, he turned his eyes to the glowing hot embers on the side of the room, and to the red-hot pokers that laid upon them.

-  “Today, we will scorch its white skin.”

Even in her fury, Fiona’s eyes couldn’t help but betray fear at the man in black’s words. 

- “It is a shame, truly, that those two have to be preserved enough to walk the gallows,” he added looking disappointed, before his face lit up again “but this is where this last one comes in!”

Nictis pointed to the last of the three girls, a naked shapely brunette collapsed on the cold stone floor but for her wrists hanging from a sturdy chain on the wall. She had long wavy black hair, pale skin and a soft face with wide innocent eyes. She was shorter than the other two, but her curves were by far most enticing. She had an impressively full chest with large breasts still firm from her relatively young age, a comparatively thin waist for her size, followed by wide hips with a full bottom. 

Of the three prisoners, she must have experienced the roughest time in captivity. Her hair and face were truly disheveled, she had deep bruises and marks all over her skin, no cuts or whip marks but red and dark spots all over her arms, legs, neck, neck, face and breasts of course, like she had been manhandled by a full regiment of soldiers. Stepping towards her, Draven realized her inner thighs were even more severely marked, her cunt was red and swollen, heavy loads of semen leaking from her fleshy parted lips onto the stone slab beneath her.

- “This one was a novice in that order of whores. It has a name, Helen I think, but I just don’t care, I call it fuck whore. I am almost sure it never saw a cock before today. I made sure it’s been fucked almost without interruption since it came to me. Very popular with the guards.

As he talked, two men entered the room and immediately set their eyes on her, clearly intending to take the Scourge on his offer. Nobody else looked surprised and Draven understood the men in the room had already taken their turn, probably more than once. Helen’s eyes froze as she saw the two men rushing towards her. Between two sobs she uttered a timid and absolutely useless “Please…. Mercy…” The first man simply pulled his cock out and violently kicked her legs open, before dropping down to the floor, forcing himself onto her and pushing his cock up her bruised cunt. All this while his friend and everyone else in the room watched. The girl barely resisted, exhausted from the endless assaults she had been enduring. Fiona was rattling her chains despite the spikes nailed through her hands, at the same time furious and powerless to protect her friend from being raped once again before her very eyes. Leana was quietly crying at the heartbreaking scene.

Nictis approached Draven, his eyes also fixed upon the wailing girl and her massive breasts bouncing under the thrusts of the soldier.

- “Look at it, how it accepts the abuse, so typical of a cunt. It was supposed to be released in the service of a local dignitary I believe. Fortunately, I noticed the caring looks it drew from the witch and the old hag, and now it will suffer for the sole purpose of making them hurt. And it will learn the true meaning of pain, while the other two watch her endless agony.”

As soon as the soldier finished inside the girl, Nictis turned to Silas and ordered in a strict tone.

- “Let the suffering begin.”

* - *

To be continued in Chapter 10: Broken Sisters