The Sacrifice of Aeva

Aeva didn’t get much time to recover from her repeated abuse. She was hurting all over, both her holes were bleeding and her jaw was aching from the repeated abuse. Her scourged back was all but scraped raw and broken from being bent backwards and grated against the rough surface of the stone.

Two royal guards promptly seized her by the arms and brought her back to Sacred Rock without any particular care for her comfort. The larger of the two warriors grabbed her beneath her armpits, lifted her and slammed her back against the sharp rock. He raised a knee which he pressed against the rock, and let her slide down, with a high-pitched wail as the sharp surface raked and cut into her wrecked back. The shock pulled Aeva out of her torpor, spiked her stress and restored her heightened awareness of her surroundings. With a strong hand he locked her neck against the rock, pressing enough to make her breathing difficult. There was renewed fear in her eyes. The feeling that the man held her life in his hand sent blood gushing between her legs, and her breathing accelerated again.

The second warrior lifted both her arms above her head, and tightly wrapped them with rope, cutting into each wrist’s torn skin and then tying the two together. The strong man was applying special care to tighten the rope as much as he could, and she already felt her fingers going numb. He then looped the rope through the ring higher up on the sacred rock and tensed it, lifting her from the ground. Finally, getting a lift from his fellow warriors, he tied the rope securely to the metal Aeva, seeing him working with the rope, finally recognized him as one of the sailors of the clans, and she knew the knot would never let go. Their work done, they stepped away from the rock and the hanging tortured woman.

In this short moment calm, she offered a peculiar spectacle to the clansmen gathered under the rain. That of a tall, broken, nude girl hanging by her wrists, exposed for all to see. On the backdrop of the dark sacred rock, she looked like a pale bound porcelain doll. Her head was tilted forward, her long brown drenched hair was cascading on her chest, seeping water in between her ample breasts. There was a shine of sadness in that image of a vulnerable and hurt woman, covered by cold raindrops running down her body, and blurring the details of her scarred skin. Her flanks, the inside of her tights and her crotch were stained in red, the thick substance eventually dissolving into a hint of ruby reflection in the water running down her sides and legs. Like the melancholic silhouette was weeping bloodied tears of pain. 

Avea wondered how many, like the healer of her youth, saw in her the innocent victim of a cruel tradition? And how many saw through her nature of a twisted creature yearning to be humiliated and hurt in front of them. Could they suspect that inside the naked, bleeding and broken woman displayed in front of the crowd, despite all the pain and there was a fire burning in her loins, and it was only made stronger by the prospect of being ultimately sacrificed on this rock in extreme suffering?

Her ponderings were cut short when warriors returned, carrying with them two more ropes. They kneeled at her feet and tied each of her ankles separately. Like they had done for her wrists, they tied the loops so tight she could almost feel the bones at the top of her food grinding against each other. The warriors ran each rope through a first heavy iron ring bolted into the rock floor off on each side of her, looping the rope once around the metal, and then secured through another ring three feet further away. Raising her head, she saw Rugar directing the men for what was coming next. They all stood at the ready, while his eyes were directed to hers, heavy with lust and cruelty. He screamed a loud

“Pull!”

Immediately, all her articulation tensed. Her arms pulled her shoulders up as far as they could possibly go without leaving their sockets, her elbows felt like they were going to rip and the ropes crushed the bones of her wrists. Her hips hurt just as bad, pulled and twisted apart, her knees felt like they were going to be torn and her ankles mashed by the ropes. Her heart started racing, fearing how far they would pull.  But all the men did was secure the rope on each side to the second, far metal rings, without relieving any tension. It appeared the warriors were simply interested in keeping her in a state of greater suffering than her destroyed back and scraped raw holes would on their own.

The last step of what seemed to be her preparation for the next ordeal was completed by the two royal servants visiting her once more, and carefully cleaning her holes with their fingers and rags imbued in the warmed up alcohol elixir. It stung but in truth she enjoyed the gentle touch of the women on her ravaged orifices. Even in her state it didn’t take much to awaken her feelings of lust. The care didn’t last long enough to provide real comfort, and much too soon, both women walked away as she heard Rugar’s voice.

“The offering is ready for His Majesty.”