(This story is based in a fantasy land. The main character, Saneya, has been taken captive by magicians after the slaughter of her family and race. She is being held in a fortress….) (p.s. sorry for this being kinda dark; I'm just exploring what I've felt since I was 6. Also, I'm brand-new to erotica, so suggestions for improvement are welcome.)
Stabbing pain coursed through Saneya’s head, bringing her to wakefulness. Her body trembled from dehydration and weariness. Her arms were completely numb from being stretched above her head for hours, perhaps days. She lay flat on her back, ankles and wrists bound; her neck also was fastened to the icy metal table beneath her, prohibiting her from turning her neck. Her breath came in short, miniscule gasps; she hadn’t been able to breathe properly since she was placed on the torture table. A cool breeze danced along her naked skin, causing her to shiver endlessly. The wounds she had been given at the battle had healed partially, and the scabs were hard and black. No infection.
Her mentor. The thought knifed through her mind. Her heart skipped a beat as memories of the past weeks flew to her remembrance. Reynoch was the only one to survive the slaughter. Reynoch. Not her mother, her father; not her brother. None but Reynoch. A pit of fear formed in the bottom of her stomach. What would they do to him? Tears suddenly coursed down into her matted hair. Please, not Reynoch. He cannot….
Her heart lurched when the door opened to two men speaking in rough voices. Their speech was unfamiliar and harsh to her ears – the language of demons, behr-kham. Their faces came into view as they hovered above her resting place. One had a thin, lined face with bulging eyes; the other, a square, harsh jaw and dark eyes filled with emptiness.
The second man whispered, “Derr, is this lamb ready for her slaughter?” His voice grated over her ears like a whetstone.
The thin man answered, “First, she must be shorn, Carfin.” A key clinked as it unlocked her wrist bindings. With no regard to her agonized yelps, he forced her sore, stiff shoulders down. Sharp needles rushed into her arms as feeling painfully returned. Try though she might, she could not lift them to strike against her captors. Derr released her neck collar and roughly sat her up, holding her in place as her muscles cried out.
Carfin wielded a long handled knife; with one smooth stroke, he sliced away her draping hair, nearly cutting the skin of her neck. What remained of her hair he twisted in his hand, forcing her head up to face him. He spat into her eyes. She tried to recoil from him, but his grip was stronger. He crushed his lips onto hers, sucking away her breath. With a fierce bite that drew blood from her lower lip, he pulled back and thrust her away from him, laughing.
Derr brought his weight to bear down on her shoulders, folding her in half across her body and exposing her spine. A single tap to one of her vertebrae caused her neck and torso to instantly numb. He threw her against the table again and unshackled her ankles. He and Carfin bore her half-senseless body between them through the doors of her tomb into the hall beyond. As they travelled through the passageway, Saneya’s instincts screamed at her, nearly deafening her thoughts, to fight, to resist, to do anything but be led passively to her slaughter.
But her body, she could not move. Her mind, she could not focus.
The great timbers of the Soldiers’ Hall were revealed at the opening of the doors. A cruel cheer went up from the many mighty men gathered there. Derr and Carfin bore their prize to the middle of the room; standing Saneya against a pillar, they bound her numbed hands above her head.
Swiftly, her mind cleared just enough for her to kick out at Carfin. The maneuver cost her dearly as she lost her balance and all her weight fell onto her bound arms. Hot pain spiked through her shoulders to her fingertips.
The mob of men laughed jeeringly as Cafrin darted away from her striking foot; they did not silence their gaping mouths until another man clamored for silence above the cacophonous noise.
“Tonight!” he roared. “Tonight, we feast on good food, strong ale, and the touch of warm flesh!”
Saneya’s tongue clung to her dry mouth at the overwhelming tumult of agreement.
“Tonight, we ravish in the spoils of our triumph! Is she not fair?” This last question was a snarl of lust.
All the hate-filled eyes of the hungry beasts turned to devour her. Then she understood. She was their trophy – not meant for display, but for use. A thrill of emotion shot through her. Her body did not reject this realization. It craved what was about to happen. She hated herself for it.
The leader approached her, encouraged by the shouts of the men. He pressed his hard mouth against hers and sucked hard on her still-bleeding lip. He smacked at the taste of her blood, causing raucous calls of appreciation. He worked his knife out of its case and slashed away her bonds; he grabbed her to steady her as she fought to keep her balance.
FIGHT! her mind screamed. Finally! her body cried. Her arms unfeeling, she could do nothing to protect herself from the crushing blow that came against her head. She collapsed to the floor. The men formed a tight circle around her as their leader unfastened his leather leggings. As he descended toward her, she forced her legs to pummel his knees and groin. He easily side-stepped her attack and quickly straddled and pinned her thrashing legs against the cold stones. Her clothes already non-existent, he pulled his own down, exposing his stiffened man-part.
Hot blood pounded in Saneya’s head. Desire woke in her womanly flower, thirsting for the touch of a man. Disgust filled her heart in the next instant, and repulsion constricted her legs even tighter against the advance of the beast on top of her. She wiggled away from his hard touches, but he only grew bolder, laughing as he twisted her nipples and collapsed his mouth around hers. His tongue probed into her mouth, sucking away her breath, teasing her until her own tongue came up to greet his and danced into his wet maw. He drew away from her allowing her to snatch a gasp of air before bearing down again; he crushed her head into his mouth with his hands. She reveled in his touch. The next instant her reason resumed control, and she struggled away from his kiss, biting deep into his lip until she tasted blood. He jerked away from her, holding his mouth.
“Spirited, she is!” he roared. The mob roared back their approval of the spectacle.
He grabbed her head in his hands again, forcing her close to look in his eyes. “What are ye,” he whispered, “virgin or whore? Have ye yet known the fierceness of a man?” Her eyes widened, in fear he thought. But a small moan of passion rose from her throat. “A whore then!” His strong, cruel hands groped down her body, until they entwined into the soft curls above the wetness below. His finger dove into the sensitive folds. Before Saneya could tighten her legs again, the animal bore himself down into her innocent garden, forcing open the gates that had never been opened. His manly dagger ripped open the tight folds. She screamed in the agony. Her back arched; her hips convulsed upward to meet his downward thrusts. Warmness filled inside of her as the beast sweated and moaned. He pulled out of her.
“Look!” He pointed to his tight spear and the inside of her legs. “The whore is truly a virgin!” Saneya looked and saw the result of her agony – bright red blood coated his manhood and covered her thighs. With rough hands, he grabbed her legs again. Fear broke through her hot desire and clenched her thighs closed. After a single instant of attempting to separate them, he brought his hand into her small curls and gently brushed against the small nodule of flesh nestled in the wet folds. Pleasure swept through her, and she opened fully to him, forcing aside her guilt and self-hatred. He split her legs around his hips and drilled himself into her again. This time she was ready and accepted the hard sword as it thrust forward and back. He moved her hips against him in rhythm; she moaned in fiery heat. Too soon he pulled his hardness out of her and let her exhausted body slip back to the stones. Her hips clenched forward, seeking the firm flesh to return inside of her. He raised his fists in triumph amid the roars of the mob.
“Virgin she was, but whore she is!” He stood and replaced his manhood in his clothing. “Now, the spoils of war are yours! Take their bounty!” His growling voice ignited the primal bellows of the beasts.
They descended upon her, tearing at her ruined hair, pinching her sore buttocks, mangling her fair breasts, beating upon her white stomach, stealing her breath from her mouth and lungs, thrusting themselves into her trampled garden again and again and again. Feeling finally returned to her arms and shoulders like constricting bonds and sharp daggers. Her feeble attempts to deny the beasts’ advances were met with cruel words and unyielding force, as they pinned her against the terrible stones. Each animal waited until the one before was finished with his enrapture and then moved his own manhood into her still-bleeding, aching, red folds. Soon, they flipped her body to face down and forced her to bend on hands and knees as they took her from behind. Then one beast discovered the small, tight hole just above the soft wetness and drove his hardness deep into it. Pain filled every one of her senses, and the air was rent with her tortured screams. This pleased the brutes so much that many more did likewise. They became bored with her in one position so each beast now moved her to his pleasure.
Intense passion overlapped with overwhelming agony. Heat coursed through her body, doubled by hating their touch and desperately craving it. Self-loathing filled her heart, covered up only by the delight of her enraptured body. It moved to accommodate the harsh pounding of the beasts; her womanly fold seized around each of the different spikes of hard flesh that entered it, clenching around them, craving their presence, seeking their touch to ignite the small nodule of flesh clothed in the damp curls. The mighty beasts’ sweat mingled with hers as she folded her body into their mold, thrusting her hips in rhythm to their beats, enclosing their hard mouths in hers, touching, caressing, moving with them.
Her self-repulsion she buried in revelry. She justified herself by the cruel arms that held her motionless. Why be resigned to her fate? Why not enjoy it, revel in it, find pleasure in it for a brief moment? She had tried to resist, but the beasts were too mighty. She had tried and failed. She was not guilty; she was not condemned.
And so she moaned in pain-filled pleasure. Her body ached with it. Her nipples stood at attention in the hot, moist air, constantly fondled, caressed, twisted, bitten. Her panting breath was consumed by the gaping mouths of the beasts that seized her lips and tongue in theirs. Every fiber of her body ached with intense passion, desire, pain, and emotion.
The fire in the great hearth burned merrily. She lay limp against the unyielding stones. New brutes still came to take their enrapture in her but soon retreated in disappointment, for they had not received the same game their predecessors had. Once this was realized, they returned to their beds like dogs, leaving her naked under the great timbers.
Her hot pleasure had run cold in her body. Reason resumed its rightful place, and guilt, as well as shivers of cold, racked her ruined being. The accusations came fiercely and freely against her — she was too exhausted to rebuff them.
Whore! they cried. This is who you’ve always been! You, who could never be pure, have shown your true colors! You are a liar and a deceiver. Just think, your brother sacrificed his life for you so you could sin. Your father, if he were not dead, would turn his face in hate and shame and cast you out. Your mother believed she loved a pure daughter, yet she will never know who you truly are: Whore! You are despicable. You deserve what they did to you. Had you the strength to resist them, you would have redeemed yourself. And yet, you ENJOYED their advances! You sought their touch like the worm of sin you are. You are unworthy of love; you are worthy of abuse and hatred and cruelty. You shall never deserve love again. You have fallen beyond redemption; there is no more hope for you. You belong to these beasts; you cannot refuse them now—you have already allowed all of them to touch you. You are slave. You are not free; you are bound to your pleasure, and it is strangling you. Feel the guilt; let the self-hatred wash over you; resign yourself to the consequences. Perhaps if you reject everything you are, you can redeem yourself from your detestable actions.
She was left empty and hollowed out. Life had been sucked from her; her once vibrant desire to live had evaporated in the raping of her body and mind. She believed the lies. Let the beasts do what they will. She did not care. Death or life may have her. Yet why would either want her? She was worthless. And so hopelessness consumed the little of her spirit that remained. Let the mighty beasts come again; let them take her body for their pleasure; let them maul it with knives and whips. Let them do what they will. She did not care.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/2h0mmq/saneya_pain_or_pleasure_mf_nc_huml_sm_fantasy