The Sacrifice of Aeva

Aeva had been left wounded, hanging from her wrists in the cold night. Long hours of suffering had followed. The hurt would not recede, and each raindrop landing inside the open wounds of her back was like a needle poking into her flesh. There would be no sleep for Aeva, only short periods of respite when her exhaustion would allow her mind to drift away. But she would inevitably be brought back to her ordeal by the flaring of her pain. 

All the while her mind was torn between the intense pain and the twisted way her body was responding. The memory of the each impact of the metal-spiked heavy flogger were bouncing in her head, in between the pulses of her lasting pain, as she hung tied, wet and restless through the night. The discomfort of her body pressing against the sharp rock had increased as well. It was no match for her back, but the prolonged contact against the vicious edges of the rock surface was digging into her skin, or felt like they were cutting her if she moved. 

About half way through the night, and despite her harrowing pain, she had found herself aroused again. The heavy lashes of the flogger were replayed in her mind, acting like an overwhelmingly intense stimulation. Her body had started grinding against the rock, looking for that acute feeling of pain to reconcile with her sensory memory of her going through the scourging over again in her mind. And she came again from the echoes of her pain, alone in the darkness, pummeled by the heavy drops of cold rain, like a poor creature enslaved to her twisted mind. After that her mind finally let her drift away, numbed by the many impossibly intense experiences of the day, and her body frozen by the cold rain.

When the first villagers came back in the early morning, Aeva was in a semi-conscious state. The cold might have seemingly muted her suffering. But her body told a different tale, that of the deep marks of the heavy iron-studded flogger. Bright red open wounds marked her whole rear side. She hadn’t really slept but hadn’t been fully present either after her mid-night ecstasy. She was chilled to the bone, her mind hanging in a cold fog of pain echoes and memories of lust. Her hands, strained under her weight by the shackles had taken a worrisome pale color.

She was woken by a clunking sound and the fog in her mind slowly dissipated. She realized she was being lowered to the ground, as she sensed something pushing on her legs, but her feet were too numb to feel the contact of the wet rock beneath her. A strong familiar smell entered her lungs and a warming feeling came from her shoulders and arms. Her mind was emerging, and she opened her eyes to the dark, intricate surface of the rock in front of her. When enough of her strength returned, she turned her head to see that two servants of the King were busy caring for her. 

The two girls had a very full, uncorked goatskin set against the base of the rock, a twirling cloud of mist arising out of its open mouth. That was the source of the smell, a strong herbal alcohol she herself had been responsible for brewing for the clan. It had been warmed, but just enough so that it wouldn’t lose its potency. She suspected her apprentice Rick had been tasked to prepare it. They would use it to warm her up and make sure her wound stayed clean through her continuing ordeal. The girls each had held a strong brush with stiff bristles in their hand, and inch by inch, they were scrubbing the healer’s skin with the warm potion, bringing her back to life. 

They covered every single part of her body, from her ears to her fingers and toes, and slowly the numbness of the freezing night went away. She felt a strong tingle on the scraped areas of her belly, breasts and thighs, but nothing even close to the ordeal of the previous day. Aeva did not utter a word, in her mind she was fixated on the injuries of her back and her sex. They were going to care for these areas last. Again she felt strong hands grabbing her arms and pressing her front against the rock, warriors would help restrain her for the most painful part of her morning awakening. 

And then both from the top and the small of her back, she felt the stiff bristles of the brushes digging into the open wounds the metal flogger had carved in her flesh. It was a long, wrenching torture. The sting of the hot mixture brought the pain of her ordeal back to life, and then the scrubbing of the stiff brushes made it so much worse. She tried hard to hold her screams, she wanted to stay strong and proud through her suffering, but this was just beyond her strength. Her enduring screams shrieked and pierced the silence of the early morning, while her body twitched and shook, requiring the full strength of the guards to keep her in place.

- “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaahhhhhhhhh!”

By the time they were done she was back to her former state of heightened senses. And her loins were warming again from the intense and painful stimulations. This, of course, was none of her caretaker’s concern. Finished with her back, they flipped her around once more and the two warriors held her legs open. She lowered her eyes to look at her sex. It was still raw and red from the assaults of the sharp elongated stone on the shaman staff, her crotch and inner thighs were covered with thick viscous blood. It might have scabbed if not for all the water in the air. The girls started with slowly rubbing the stiff bristles between her legs, cleaning the area, the reddened watered-down liquid trickling along her inner thighs. The rough scrubbing in her crotch immediately conjured into Aeva’s mind flashes of her intense scraping on the sharp stone in her youth, when she had first fantasized about what was now her very real predicament. 

The slow but painful  stimulation on her sensitive flesh was overwhelming. And when the rough brushes closed-in on her lips, the folds of her intimate skin and her most sensitive button, she had to fight not to lose her composure and explode in another orgasm. Her mind was racing again. She was bound, naked, her painful wrists held above her head, her ruined back pressed against the sharp rock surface, two strong men holding her legs wide open and two women vigorously scrubbing her most intimate parts with a potent, warm, stimulating liquor. Incredible bursts of pain and sexual pleasure were firing in her mind, like a chain of lighting bolts feeding off each other. She wanted to resist it. Maybe part of her still hoped to prove to the clan that she was not the depraved, perverted creature they might think she is. But wasn’t it holding onto a desperate lie? The very thing her ordeal was supposed to free her of? The reality was that being prepared for the next round of torture, was all but sending her straight to another orgasm? Her captors were simply cleaning her, caring for her, and she had to fight not to respond like a pig squealing of pleasure.

It got even harder when, finished with cleaning the outer skin of her crotch, one of the servants inserted three fingers meticulously coated with the warm elixir, into the depth of her lacerated sex. There was no violence in her gesture but no care either, she rubbed the potion on her injured inner walls, and forcefully scraped any scab she found. Each stroke was an assault against Aeva's failing composure. She was barely holding on the precipice of an explosion of ecstasy. And each removed scab, the stinging of the alcohol sent her closer to the edge. And Aeva knew very well she was past fooling the two servants or even the guards. She was breathing as hard and fast as bitch in heat. She could not control her body twitching in response to the poking, twisting and turning of the woman’s fingers inside her sex. 

She focused all her strength, she was dead set in keeping her composure and winning the fight for her dignity, perhaps as a futile attempt to redeem herself from her collapse of the previous day. But it was so hard, so close. And then, without notice or ceremony, the servant simply pulled her reddened fingers from her sex. She had won this battle, had made it to the end without exploding in pleasure. But she knew very well pushing her over the edge it would only take the slightest stimulation. 

Their work done, the guards released her legs from their grip, and together with the two women, they left Aeva to her fate, still hanging from her wrists in her lowered position, her legs bent and her feet clumsily resting against the cold rock slab. She was left in her predicament for several hours further. The constant intense pain from the open wounds on her back, her scraped sex, the severe bruises all over her body, and the memory of the servant’s intimate massage maintained the naked and bound healer’s twisted mind in a state of extreme arousal that did not diminish.