The Sacrifice of Aeva

The voice of the Shaman rose above the sound of the rain, and the crowd went silent. He began complex invocations to Toranos in the ancient tongue of the Norse ancestors, begging the God of Storms to accept the sacrifice offered to him and to spare the clan from his wrath. The guttural sounds sent chills down Aeva’s spine, making it harder to keep her fear under control. The prayer culminated on a long, almost inhumanely low note. And then it stopped, giving way to the sound of the heavy raindrops battering the platform and the crowd, as the only musical score to the healer’s imminent ordeal.

Aeva was still reeling from her previous trials, her body severely bruised all over, her ribs hurting with each breath, and her wrists and shoulders strained from her suspension in the metal shackles. Deep fear still held a grip on her insides, twisting her core and pressing her chest tight. That fear was engaged in an all-out fight with the heat and lust between her legs for the control of her emotions.

Whispers in the crowd started from the left side. Aeva, risking a peek over her shoulder, saw three guards slowly advancing towards her. They did not sport their capes and leather armor anymore, instead they were walking bare chested, their powerful muscles glistening under the pouring rain. The massive one in the middle, taller by a head and considerably wider than the other two was Rugar, the Commander of the Guard. His blonde braids, heavy with rain water were framing his chiseled face and his piercing crystal blue eyes. He was holding in his hands a large instrument that Aeva recognized immediately. At its sight, the cold hands of fear tightened around her heart, while a wave of searing heat pulsated in her crotch.

Rugar was holding Arawn’s Scourge, a terrifying flogger dedicated to the God of Death. It had been kept for generations as a relic by the successive shamans of the clan. It consisted of a polished wooden handle about two feet long, not unlike that of a war ax, but covered in intricate runes from the North. The end of the handle was crowned for the last two inches by an iron cap decorated all around with hollow-eyed faces screaming in pain, the cap itself attached to a heavy iron chain a foot long. Each chain link was large, hellish in design and spotted sharp spikes at each of its corners. The other end of the chain was affixed to another iron cap, this one enclosing a heavy leather braid as wide as the handle. After about three inches, the leather split into seven tails, each three feet long and composed of three thick leather straps intertwined together. And all through the length of each tail, at various intervals, shards of irons had been bent and pressed tight onto the leather braids. The iron bits were the real teeth of the instrument, designed to dig into the soft flesh of any poor being unlucky enough to find themselves on the receiving end of its lashes. Fully extended, the heavy instrument of pain was longer than six feet, taller than most men in the clan except of course for Commander of the Guard.

Reaching the center of the platform, the two side guards knelt at Aeva’s feet and tied a rope at each of her ankles. Soon after, she felt the ropes tugging and her legs opened wide. The guards secured each rope to the metal hoops bolted to the rock floor, on each side of the Sacred Rock. Rugar then walked behind Aeva’s secured body, his powerful chest just inches away from her pale, scarred and stretched back. Even with the cold rain she could sense his imposing presence. She felt a touch, metallic at first and then a larger area of contact, heavier and wet, at the small of her back. As the mass moved up along her spine, she felt many sharp points poking at the bumps of her scarred skin. Rugar was caressing her with the leather tails of the vicious flogger, a last kiss before a new world of hurt. 

Aeva’s heartbeat accelerated, she could feel the panic gripping her. She tried one last time to calm herself, to keep her composure and not to succumb to her fear. Afterall, she had dreamed of that moment for so long, being tied to this rock, defenseless. She should try to recapture that feeling, the incredible lust she was feeling when fantasizing about her current predicament. She closed her eyes and she was back in her past, tied to a tree. Sigur, her loving tormentor was about to strike her with his whip. In her head back then, the dream of Sacrifice was just a way to increase her lust for the love of her life, to crave his embrace after the pain. Clinging to these old memories would be no use. The warmth she had felt then, was too far from her current predicament, her fear was too strong and the image of her lover shattered in her mind. 

There was no caring man behind her anymore, only a mountain of muscles with an instrument of destruction. And there would neither be comforting nor healing after the punishment. There would only be more pain, unbearable agony and then… She heard a fast repeating clickety noise above her. Looking up she realized her arms were shaking. Her breath accelerated again. But if she was so afraid, why was the heat and lust between her legs increasing to unmatched levels. Her sex was burning. Even with the cold rain pouring all over her bruised body, she could feel her heartbeat pulsating in her fully erect love button and her engorged lower lips. She knew her burning hot sex was dripping in her warm juices. 

She had to admit it to herself. Yes, she was that depraved and broken. Sigur may have been the joy in her life, but she now knew for absolute certainty that it was his merciless punishments, not his warm and caring love that had been driving her deepest lust. Despite the heart-stopping fear that was gripping her very core, she knew that she was now exactly at her place, tied to this rock, her back about to be shredded. And the dark voice in her head, coming from the depth of her lust, was hoping the powerful and merciless Rugar would do his very worst.

She heard an incredibly loud “swooosh” over the sound of the rain. The first thing she felt was the impact, like something heavy had been thrown at her back. The shock shoved her body and pressed her heavy breast against the sharp surface of the Sacred Rock. Everything felt suspended as her mind tried to understand the sensation… It was like a  volley of arrows had all been fired at the same time. Like she had been stabbed dozens of times at once all over her back. Finally the wave of pain registered in her mind, and it was greater than anything she had ever experienced. She exploded into an ear-piercing scream.

- “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiihhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”

When the flogger was pulled back she felt some of the shards tugging on her skin as they clung to the cuts they had made into her flesh. She was breathing as fast as she ever had, tears flooded her eyes. It was unbearably intense and yet the broken woman she was needed more.

She felt Rugar’s warm breath in her ear.

- “The water is weighing down the leather of the tails… Slave, you will hurt more than even Arawn’s Scourge is intended for.”

It was the worst thing anybody in her position could have heard. Except the dark voice inside her welcomed the news. She would suffer like no other offering had suffered before.

There was a pause, long enough for the pain to sink-in, long enough for each incision into her skin to start throbbing. The flogger landed again, even harder, like a troll had punched her in the back. This time the pain was immediate, instantly flaring in her back, and compounded with the open wounds of the first hit. Another scream!

- “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

The hurt was radiating all around her body. Time had stopped, and all her senses were heightened. She knew the feeling well, although not on that scale. It was so intense it removed everything else from existence. Another violent hit landed, puncturing her skin once more. It was excruciating! How was it possible that, in such agony, she could still feel the heat increasing between her legs! She held her scream this time at the price of her teeth cutting into her lower lip, as if staying silent would somehow dull her pain. And one more hit came. It was unbearable, she let out another scream, more tears came down from her eyes and she completely broke down.

- “Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhaaaaaiiiiiii! Uuuuuuh! Uuuuuuh! Uuuuuuh!...

One more time she tried to hold on to the figure of her long lost husband. The only rock she hadm in a storm of grueling pain. But the metal shards digging once more into her back pulled her from her dream. The suffering was too intense, more than she had ever felt! The rock of her husband disappeared in the fury of the crashing waves of her ordeal. She was alone with her pain, there was nowhere to hide, no protection to get. Nothing could get in the way of suffering of this magnitude. It was the only thing that existed in the world. Her fear was gone at least, swept away by the reality of the pain. Her fear and her… No. The lust was still there. Somehow it survived the pain. It was hard to sense, like faint music inside a deafening thunderstorm, but there was no doubt. Despite her back being destroyed by the leather and metal digging into her flesh, her sex was still throbbing, and her yearning was still warming her loins.

The lashes, delivered at full force by the warrior of incredible strength, kept coming. They lacerated her skin from the top of her toned shoulders all the way down to the firm shapely muscles of her arse, each time leaving in their wake the destruction of open cuts, gaping flesh and blood streaming down, in turn diluted by the cold rain. Her voice, screaming her ordeal, vicious impact after impact, soon turned hoarse. She crossed thresholds of pains she would not have thought were possible to feel, let alone endure.

And yet she never wished it would stop. She never prayed for her torture to be over. If a magical Spirit of the Wild had taken pity on her and offered her a wish, would she have asked to be taken far away? Would she have asked for the Sacrifice to stop? No she would not have. She would not even have asked for the pain to subside. Instead she would have asked for the burning desire between her legs to be satisfied. She would have begged Sigur, her late husband, to come back to the realm of living one last time and to thrust his hard member inside of her. To ram it in again and again and bring her to the biggest ecstasy of her life. How could one be as depraved and broken, as to only wish to be sexually satisfied while she was being brutally tortured, she wondered in her distress?

After countless lashes, after her stretched back and her buttocks were nothing more than mangled flesh, the assault finally stopped. Her whole body was throbbing in pain, she wasn’t even sure if she could still lift herself or bring up her knees, just the thought of trying caused her infinite pain and distress. She was left reeling for a long moment, sobbing and wailing from the lingering hurt. And then she felt the tension on her ankles being released. The men must have untied the ropes from the metal hoops. Strong arms seized her legs, pulled them up and apart, bending her torso backwards, pressing more blood out of her injured back, pushing her breasts against the sharp rock, and putting her intimate parts in full display for the crowd. Had the Spirit of Wild heard her plea?

- “Toranos! This offering is for your take!” She heard the Shaman proclaim.

She felt something touch her exposed crotch. It was a hand, fingers spreading the hole of her sex open. And then a cold, rough scraping and cutting point pushed against her opening’s sensitive skin. She quickly realized what it must be. The elongated shard of the Sacred Rock mounted on the Shaman’s staff. They would violate her with it. Her breath accelerated again, but she did not struggle, there would be no point in fighting the will of the Gods and that of the clan. 

She heard a loud grunt from the Shaman behind her. And then a strong push between her legs. The stone ripped the opening of her sex and brutally entered inside her. Her whole body shook under the violence of the thrust. The stone penetrated her fully, scraping the delicate skin inside of her. The jagged point, punching her insides, brought feelings of pain so deep she didn’t know she could suffer that far inside. A bestial scream came from the depths of her sore lungs.

- “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaagggggggghhhhhhhh!”

The instrument slowly pulled out, and she was stabbed again, with all the strength of the man holding the staff. And he pulled once more, then shoved the jagged rock inside her. This time she lost it and started to shake uncontrollably. The guards struggled to keep their grips on her legs. The Shaman marked a pause, before repeating again his cruel thrust. Stabbing hard then slowly pulling, and again. Her insides were being grated raw by the barbaric instrument. 

Despite the inhumane pain she still felt her fire growing. It was a worse torture than she had ever received from Sigur, but it merged with her memories of the bestial embrace of his hard rod. The rock penetrating her was the unbearable but ultimate stimulation for a being such as her, made by the Gods to take pleasure from the most gruesome pain. The Shaman penetrated her again. Her whole being was overloaded with a sensation that she couldn’t contain. She arched her back, tensed all the muscles in her body, including those of her ravaged back, adding to her excruciating suffering. The build up between her legs was too great. She tilted her head back, opened her mouth and let out a deep guttural sound.

- “Ooooooooooooooooooooooorrrrrgggggghhhhhhhhh! Siiiiiiguuuuur!!!!”

Her body convulsed as she came. Niel and Rugar almost got knocked over and let go of her legs. The shaman, stunned by the incredible display of ecstasy from pain, withdrew his staff and let it drop on the ground. The dark stone was smudged in red. Blood was dripping profusely from the opening of her sex and along the insides of her now closed thighs beneath her hanging body, adding to the red streams flowing from her shredded back and bottocks. It mixed with the rain giving dark undertones to water pooling beneath her feet.

- “We are done for the night.” The commanding voice of King Silas thundered over the gasping crowd. 

She heard it only faintly. Her mind was lost in a vortex of pain, mixed with deep raw sexual pleasure that she could neither comprehend nor control. Her body was still occasionally convulsing under the aftershocks of her earth-shattering orgasm. As the tide of forbidden and ominous pleasure slowly left her, the pain in her back and her sex shot up with a vengeance, like dozens of daggers stabbing her brains and her insides. The noise from the crowd gradually went to mute. She wasn’t sure if her mind was leaving her, or people were departing. Exhausted and spent, Aeva let her head rest on her shoulder. There was barely an ounce of strength left in her at all.