Cult of Cthulhu

[darkstalker]

Clare from claymore is gangraped and tortured by a group of men and then given back to a cthulhu like monster who tentacle rapes her.
(will return to other stories later on so don't worry..)

*****

Clare’s blade slices through the slimy flesh of the being once more, her sword coming down with a thud and great crack against the stone floor. The sword remains where it is, lodged between pieces of rock, Clare’s shoulders hunched over, her and face damp with sweat.
Her normally human features are obscured by her partially awakened state, which has now twisted her lips to hold a mouth full of serrated teeth, the veins standing on end on her arms and legs. Her eyes glow a vibrant yellow in the night air, 10% of her yoki called up.
She struggles to lift her head, hearing as the slime creature... as that is all she can call it, retreats once more. Its body slips between cracks, both the hacked limbs and whole blob of flesh disappearing from sight. Clare has been fighting it for hours and still there seems to be no recourse. The damned thing just comes back together again!
She wrinkles her nose, watching as it comes back together in one piece. It is a putrid green mass of flesh, looking like puss and feeling like it any time it slaps against her skin or cuts her. She used her quick sword initially when she’d attacked it, lashing it to pieces smaller then kindling in seconds. She’d mistaken it for an ungodly piece of mold or manure but found it was alive and sentient. But any slash is only momentary as the creature returns for her. It is annoyingly determined, but so is she.
“That is enough!” the creature hisses. “Submit to me already!”
Clare grits her teeth, grinding them against one another. “Never!” she says, wrenching her nearly six foot sword from the ground. “I’m not going to die to you!”
As the blade is wrenched out so is her balance thrown off and she stumbles backwards before catching herself. Sweat pours down her body, making her black leather shift uncomfortable, her panties running up her sensitive areas in a most unpleasant manner below the skirt. Even her boots now feel sickeningly damp with sweat. Why won’t this damned thing die, she thinks.
The creature simply chuckles, laughing hideously. “Is that truly what you think we want,” it says, forming its large body before her. “No... we want your body. We want to violate every orifice you have, hear you scream and fill you with our seed. Sate our need. And when we’re done we’ll drop you at the edge of the chasm here. Wether you live or die will be your will alone.”
“You’re disgusting!” says Clare, moving her blade before her when a sudden sharp pain lashes up her thigh. She buckles to her knees, screaming as a tendril with a twisting knife going up her leg behind the knee, pumps her full with a secretion. She lashes at the tentacle with her sword, hacking it away. The tentacle spasms and recedes back into a crack too small to contain its girth. The remains of it in her knee sliding back out to join the rest.
She is breathing heavily, barely able to stand, her vision blurring. No she realizes, her yoki level is dropping again. With each sting the monster gives her, her yoki grows weaker and weaker.
She is breathing heavily now, leaning down against her sword. “Almost time....” says the creature, its voice filled with acid. “You have been most troublesome indeed. I will make sure you suffer more then the previous women.”
“I....” says Clare as she begins to stand when a wave of pain lashes through her right arm under her pit. She slashes awkwardly, but it is her sword arm the tentacle is under and the blade does not cut fully through the tentacle. Instead the tentacle reshapes itself, twisting its toxins into her blood.
Feeling drowsy with the night closing in on her and the sword suddenly feeling frighteningly heavy, she lets go before her arm snaps in two. The blade falls with a thud, her body held up by the tentacle pumping its toxins into her. Her mouth is reshaping back into its original form, her vision growing duller. She feels weak, heavy, and helpless.
“Damn it,” she hisses. “Why?”
Since the beginning this monster has given her troubles. It is not an awakened being for no yoki emanates from its flesh, but still monster it is and with its uncanny ability to slip between cracks and reform itself no matter how many times Clare slashes at it she has gradually grown weaker and weaker.
The monster laughs with a burbling mirth, putrid blisters along its body popping. “You are all but human now, woman,” it hisses. “And now the games shall begin...”
It wrenches its knife like tentacle from her pit with a jerk, slamming her towards the floor as it does so, her mouth filling with dirt and debris. She spits and coughs, her throat feeling constricted. She struggles to her hands and knees but falls back, feeling completely drained.
“Kkkkk... not like this,” she growls, looking towards the writhing mass of flesh.
“Yesss...” says the creature, running a length of it’s tentacle across her cheek, leaving a trail of wet slime behind. “Jusssst like thissss...”
“But...” Its tentacles recede back into the mass, the creature breathing heavily. “You have taken your toll and I mussst rest. I shall let my followers take you for now... instead....”
“F-followers?” says Clare, struggling to get back up. A strong arm grips her left and jerks her to her feet.
“He means us,” says a dirty man with a cropped mustache and unshaved double chin. He spits in her face, blinding her left eye momentarily and licks her cheek. Clare struggles against his grip but finds she can barely move out of it.
The man laughs heartily. “So this is a silver eyed bitch, eh? Not much are ya?” he says, gripping her bangs and jerking her head back.
“Let go of me,” she says. “I haven’t done anything to you!”
The man slaps her hard across the face. Blood flies from her lips and pain runs up her cheek. “You attacked our god you bitch. You call that nothing!”
Again he slaps her, nearly knocking her to the floor.
“Biiiinnnd her,” says the creature. “Tooortuuree her... buuurn her... and... hahahaha... fuck her. Let her know what it isss to be a woman in these parts. Then tomorrow night, bring her againnn...” Its tentacles move up to Clare’s legs, running along the skin. “I wisssh to tassste this one... and make her scream myself.”
Its tentacles retract and go towards the several men now milling about Clare, touching her, fondling her, tossing her around in the middle of them. “You will allll be my vesselsss... your seed will keep her weak and vulnerable....”
Clare watches with wide eyed horror as tentacles rise up behind the men. “Watch out!” she yells. “It’s behind you.”
The men simply laugh. What is wrong with these men, she thinks. Are they that secure in themselves and their god?
She watches as the tendrils strike forward behind the necks of each man, making him stiffen, their veins bulging as something pushes deep into them, the sounds coming from their throats sounding like gurgled screams. Then the tendrils jerk away, slimy chunks left behind, wriggling in the back of the neck of each man.
Damn it, Clare thinks intending to step behind them. I have to get out of here! But as she is about to step around one of the men, a large gruff one made like a bull, grabs her shoulder and tosses her back in the center. Her back slams against the floor painfully, his large hand pressing her down.
“No sense in the hen running out before we’ve had the chance to crow, now is there?” The man licks his large bulbous lips. Clare shudders, staring at him. His eyes have gone a sickly yellow and his strength seems unmatched.
“Bring the chains!” she hears someone yell. She looks to her left, hearing the rattle of chains as they are brought forth. She struggles, kicking and punching, but it does little against the large giant before her.
Her arms are jerked behind her, roughly and tightly, the manacles put in place. As she bucks someone jerks her hair violently, a metal collar looping around her neck and snapping in place. The tight fit feels cold and when the length of chain running away from it is jerked she is pulled with it, coughing as the metal restricts her flow of air.
“It’s a little tight for a swan like you,” says a lengthy man of bony features, “but it will do.” He grips her cheeks tightly running his tongue over her face, across her cheek. With a crack he slaps her across the face and jerks her by the hair of her scalp again. “Whores like you need know their place.”
“Goooood,” she hears the creature bubble. “Take her every way you know, then bring her.... I must ressst for now...”
“Alright you heathen goats! This cow ain’t getting any lighter, let’s get a move on!” With a jerk Clare is brought to her feet once more, pulled along the procession down the hillside. She gives one last glance towards the slime creature as she is pushed forward and swears she can see it shivering with laughter.

[Obikenobi]

Very nice start!

[nikigirl]

Excellent

[darkstalker]

I know it's been a long time since i worked on this one, but i gotta get in the mood to rape a specific girl each time. and so here you go! suggestions for her torture and abuse welcome!

*******

The stone crunches beneath their many boots. Clare can see the dimly lit city below, the houses glowing orange inside the rooms. She tries simply to focus on each movement of her legs, the stones cracking beneath her shoes. Tries to focus on that and not the humiliation she feels at having the large man behind her moving his large meaty hands beneath her leather jerkin, his hands pressing against her supple flesh, kneading the meat beneath between his thick sausage like fingers.
Her breasts are not big, thinks Clare. Not small, but not large. Still this man runs his sickly hands beneath her clothing, gripping her breasts and squeezing them like overripe fruit, his thumbs and fingers pressing one way and then another. Clare suppresses her urge to scream as her private flesh is crushed between overly thick fingers.
Keep still and firm in emotion she thinks. Don’t let them get to you. That’s what they want. That’s... “uuuhhhh...” she moans, as the man begins to pinch her buds between his fingers, crushing them to thin lengths and then digging his unclean nails into the skin. She bites down on her lips trying to keep back the tears.
His tongue runs up the length of her neck, the man chuckling. “You like that, don’t you, whore?” he says in hushed whispers against her ears. “A whore like you needs to be used by a man, even if she is a silver eyed bitch!”
Clare feels her rage building. These monsters! How dare they...
“Kak!” she yelps as the chain is jerked forward, ripping her from the clutches of the large man as it bites into her flesh and pulls her forward, stumbling to her knees. “You’ve had enough time with the bitch, Jarod,” says the old gainly man who jerks at Clare’s chain. “It’s time you give the cow to one of the others.”
Clare coughs, trying to suck in mouthful’s of air through the tight collar. It hurts to even suck in those lung fulls. Spit dribbles from her lips, leaking on the floor, her breathing coming out in ragged gasp.
She stiffens feelings someone’s hand massaging her crotch. “Look at the bitch’s fine ass. Gonna’ love beating that with the iron no?”
The other men chuckle with laughter and nod in agreement. These men are sick, thinks Clare. They...
“Ah!” she yelps as one man slaps her ass none too gently leaving a pink impression where his hand hit.
“Get up bitch!” says the man, “It’s no time for relaxing!”
Clare barely has time to stand before the chain on her collar is being jerked and she is choking, gasping for air, the spit dribbling down her chin and neck making the collar feel sticky with her own slime.
“Does it hurt?” says one man, coming towards her and jerking her head back by the scalp. “Guh!” she moans, her lips barely parting. But the man takes the initiative, and thrust his dark face towards her, his stubble roughly stabbing at her skin as his tongue penetrates her mouth, thrusting so deep she can feel it at the back of her throat. She is coughing against him and this seems to urge him on, his tongue playing with her insides.
She feels hands all over her body, going beneath her jerkin to knead her soft flesh again, some on her ass, one slapping hard with a crackt making her yelp against her captor’s mouth. He pulls away and smiles. “Really like that, don’t you whore?”
She glares at him darkly, her eyes burning with anger and hate. The bastard. Fuck the rules. When she gets out of here she’ll kill them all. If she gets out of here. She realizes this is truth as well. There’s no telling when and if she can escape.
“Well I know something you will like bitch,” says the man, running his hand up and down her inner thighs. He smiles and quickly he is jerking her leather skirt up, his hand slipping between her panties and sticking two meaty fingers into her vagina. She gasp, her eyes bulging feeling those nubs of flesh penetrate her most sensitive organ.
“Yeah, that’s right bitch,” he says. “You really like that!”
Her vaginal lips are squeezing against the man’s fingers, trying to push them out. She is moaning, trying to hold on to her senses. It is not that she has not been taken before. As part of the organization she has had to go through this a time or two, but very rarely. Her scar is generally enough to keep most men away. But...
The fingers go deeper, roughly massaging her inner walls. “Yeah... that’s right bitch. Moan for my cock between your slutty lips!”
The tears are forming at her eyes as the man thrust his fingers in between her vaginal lips. She grits her teeth that anger building. If only she can...
“She has another hole here too!” yells one man, as someone jerks her panties down.
“No! Wait!” yells Clare. “What are you doing?! Don’t...”
But it doesn’t seem to matter as the man behind her sticks his thumb into her anus, pushing the member in and sending a wracking pain up Clare’s body. Never has someone touched her there and this intrusion, so violent and humiliating hurts more then her body, it hurts her very pride.
Both men seem to jerk their fingers in her genitals. The one with his thumb in her ass, pushing back on it to push her forward while the other roughly slams three fingers in her pussy. She doesn’t recall when the third went in, probably when the one behind her jammed his finger into her anus.
She moans loudly, the tears openly coming from her eyes. “Look at the bitch,” says the man. “She’s loving it!”
And he leans down and kisses her, his mouth thrusting into her cavity. Clare squints her eyes. After all the humiliation, the anger builds and she bites down on the man’s tongue, hard. The man screams, pulling back, blood spilling from his mouth.
“You bitch!” he yells, coming back towards her and his fist rocks down against her face. She falls back with a groan and feels the boot against her side come down with crashing force again and again. “You fucking bitch!” the man yells. “You fucking...”
The man is suddenly halted, the other men surrounding him and pulling them off of her. She huddles into a ball, feeling her pained ribs. Blood leaks from her parted lips, her breathing now more painful. She closes her eyes, the tears streaming from them. “Teresa...” she thinks of the pale faced woman with long flowing mane of blonde hair. “I’m sorry...”
“Kkkkkk....” It is only a momentary lapse in time before the chain is pulling at her neck, choking her and jerking her to her feet. She is jerked forward, stumbling towards the old man whose veins pulse with an ungodly strength. “Sorry about that,” he says, still jerking her chain so she is gagging, her tongue half hanging out. “Vince isn’t the most civilized of men.”
The others laugh around him. “But then...” he whispers darkly, nearing Clare very close, his eyes almost glowing gold. “We’d have done something like that sooner of later.” He runs his tongue over her chin, lapping the blood and suckling on her lower lip lightly.
“We’re going to make you scream bitch,” he says, leaning towards her ear. “We’re going to break that high spirit of yours before giving you back to the master tomorrow.”
The man’s hand is on her hips, stroking her vagina, old twisted fingers slipping between her folds. “We’re going to use every part of you and make you beg us to stop, and then we’ll continue to use it.” He runs his tongue in a quick flick across her left ear making her shiver, her heart thundering in her chest. Her strength isn’t returning and her ribs pain her body.
“But as punishment,” says the old man, leaning back and looking her over. He leans forward and jerks Clare’s panties down to her knees. “You’re going to have to walk like this for now. Slow down and we’ll still choke you bitch.”
Clare feels the cold lap at her skin, at the sensitive folds of her flesh which leak wetly. “Now,” says the old man, jerking her collar. “Come along then bitch, we have a lot of fucking to do.”
He jerks the collar making her gag and the men chuckle, surrounding her quickly as the stones under their feet crunch under their boots. Clare can only gag and beg the fates for air as she struggles to breathe and walk at the same time.

*****

[darkstalker]

warning- this part has some rather brutal torture, so you've been warned.
*****

The air is cold, rushing up her legs. It blows at her soft lips, the cold slipping between them. Clare’s ears burn, the men’s tongues always talking something crude about her vaginal lips, but she concentrates on walking, on not letting the men break her.
She is walking normally even though at first the panties slowed her movement. Eventually she gained enough strength and forced herself to tear them apart so she could move freely, the two ends hanging off her legs. She blocks the tears, trying to ignore the humiliation she’ll endure at coming back without any undergarments. But she knows full well it’ll probably be worse then that, she probably won’t have any stitch at all to speak of when she leaves.
One man is slowly rubbing her vaginal folds, his dirty fingers penetrating her pussy every so often, nails scratching at her internal walls. He moves his hairy chest along her back, drawing her back to his body. “Tell me,” he whispers. “Tell me you want my wet cock in your hips, fucking your tight cunt.”
Her breathing is slow and quiet, her body now becoming more adjusted to the intrusions. His nails bite into her cunt and she winces but says not a word. The crackt across the side of her face surprises her, only partially, but the biting into the left side of her neck makes her scream openly. The worm like creature digs its fangs into her neck from the man’s ear, boring its poison into her body.
“I know how to get a stuck up bitch like you to become more complacent,” says the man. Clare falls to her knees, the stone biting into her legs and she thrashes, trying to liberate her arms, but the poison does its work, weakening her further. Her arms just burn, the manacles biting into her wrist, drawing blood. Soon the poison is in her system and the worm wrenches itself off her neck with a twist, making her howl.
She breathes raggedly, the sweat pouring down her face and the sting burning at her neck. It feels like something is boiling there.
She does not resist when someone grabs her scalp, leaning her neck painfully to the left so they can see the bite mark. She winces as she feels calloused fingers trace over the holes left by the worm. “A little love bite here, no bitch? Don’t worry, you’ll get far worse then this.”
With these words he spits on her face, the spit dribbling down towards her eye, making her blink away the sickly fluid. She shakes her head, her heart hammering, but still her binds hold firm. No matter how much she calls on her yoma energy, it remains dormant.
“Well,” she hears the old man say. “We’re almost at the village. We might as well put the torches out.”
He turns slowly towards her, which makes a shiver run down her spine. “Turn the bitch over and spread her legs apart. We need open access to her channels if we want to shut these off quick.”
“What?” says Clare, not fully realizing what they intend to do. But she struggles all the same as the men lean down, taking her shoulders and throwing her roughly towards the ground. Several hands come down on her, gripping her legs and arms. She manages to kick one in the wrist, but it does little good as another set of hands replaces the first. Soon her legs are being bent over her head, her pussy spread wide and in full view of the men.
“Let me go!” she growls. “Don’t do this!”
But the men all laugh, dipping their fingers in her moist folds and flicking the bud of her clit. “It’s a small fount, boys,” says one of the men. “Think it can really put the fires out?”
“Who cares?” says one man, coming forward with his torch raised high. “She’ll do it anyways!”
And he leans down, the torch flame coming towards her pussy lips quickly. Clare cries, “No! No! No!” but to no avail. The fire hits her sensitive labia and burns arduously as the man thrust it against her pussy and twist the wood in her pits. She hears flesh boil and simmer and a scream rips from her lungs, all the air escaping her. The men all laugh and slowly, as the end of the torch twist in her burned flesh and sizzles with the extinguished flames, it is lifted away from her, the smell of seared flesh and blood hot against her skin clearly visible.
“Not quite as pretty down there now, is she?” says one man.
“No,” says another. “But we’ll give her a chance to heal. After all... we want to use her for more then just this.”
Clare grits her teeth, the tears flowing down her cheeks. These bastards. These... and she sees another torch coming towards her and is already screaming before it even touches her lips. Her flesh is shaking and quivering, the blood flowing hotly into the folds of her skirt as the flames come towards her and then the searing hot fires scald her flesh and boil it. Her howls come out with a monstrous groan.
And the men above her all laugh loudly, licking their lips and enjoying the sight of the woman thrashing beneath their grips. Their god would enjoy this most well indeed.

Somewhere on the mountain top a creature watches through the eyes of his followers and laughs maniacally as each torch is brought down on the woman, disfiguring her most private areas and boiling her alive. His tendrils flick back and forth picking up her screams on the open air and he chuckles darkly thinking on what he will do to her when she comes back up tomorrow, broken and whimpering, begging for mercy. But like his men, he will give no quarter and she will scream and beg for death which he will only give when her body has been thoroughly used and abused. It shivers in anticipation of that event. Shivers and laughs.

*****

[darkstalker]

this one took me a bit to do, so i hope you enjoy.
******

“AAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!” Clare shrieks, feeling the last of the air leave her lungs as the scream leaves her lips. The wood is twisted in her tender folds and she winces, tears streaming down her cheeks as the final sparks of the fire burn in her scarred skin.
The men around her laugh and the wood is withdrawn with a quick jerk, burning blood splashing on her cheeks. She breathes raggedly, each breath of air coming in a slow wheeze.
“Well look it that,” says the old man, smiling a toothy grin with a smile that bares gaps from missing teeth. “Seems the whore really enjoyed it!”
She turns away, sniffling. Her body is wet and sticky, the leather sticking close to her skin and feeling highly uncomfortable now. She can barely stand the look of them, how they leer down at her.
A boot slams down on her stomach and she coughs blood, feeling the heel grind in her stomach. “Think we should give the bitch a break boys?” says the old man. His boot is pressing down into her skin, pushing down into her flesh and she can feel her ribs starting to creak. “What you say girl?” he says. “Ready for some fun?”
“Go fuck yourself,” says Clare, her face turned away from them.
“Oh no,” says the man, “that’s what we have you here for.” And he begins to laugh. These men, Clare thinks. All of them, they’re monsters. They...
She hears the man’s pants jangling, the sound of a zipper being pulled down. “Well the bitch is wanting boys!” says the man. “She said to fuck so let’s get a fucking!”
“What?!” says Clare suddenly, turning with a quick jerk of her head, her eyes going wide seeing the grand phallus before her, its body black in shadow, but large and thick like her wrist. “Wait...” she says. “NO!”
The old man positions himself between her legs spreading her wide, her legs splitting painfully as her muscles twitch. She is screaming before the man has even penetrated her and his penetration is anything but gentle. The old man slams his body into her, his girth pushing fully into her bloodied hole and she screams loudly, tears welling in her eyes.
“Look at her,” chuckles one with an unshaven look. “Sounds like a stuck pig, she does!”
“Certainly squeals like one,” says the rat like visage of another.
But to Clare these images are blurred, her tears masking her sight as the pain in her hips ravages her body, the wet blood slapping against her hips as the old man slams into her with an ungodly large phallus that slams against the walls of her cervix with each blow.
She can feel the walls of her bloodied womb scrape against the lumpy form pushing into her, slamming back against her again and again. All she can do is scream and writhe beneath the old man’s grip, his nails biting down on her skin.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he says, pushing her legs back down over her head. “Bet you’ve always wanted to be fucked this way after hacking the master’s servants down with your sword.”
What she wants to say is fuck you, the only thing that comes out though is an anguished cry. A scream mixed with horrified tears as pain rakes through her body, ripping her senses away from her. The blood at her loins flows down her hips, wetting the skirt more fully, the man’s thrusting becoming more violent as he pushes against her harder and harder.
“I’m just going to be the first you little slut!” he says, slamming against her repeatedly. “We’re all going to fuck off in your pussy. Make you howl at the moon!”
His words to her are unintelligible. All she can hear is a scream that seems to keep going. The beating against her loins increases in tempo, beating against her faster, until the man is jerking, his seed filling her. Clare continues to cry, feeling the wet heat from the man fill her loins. The sickly fluid is hot and cool at once, moistening her burned insides.
The man lowers her legs slowly to the floor sliding his phallus from her groin with a slick pop, his member shooting erect and full, its head shining with blood and fluid from her hips. He stands up walking around her and looks down on her, smiling. “Now that I’ve satisfied you some, you need to satisfy me,” he says in a thick accent.
Clare does not respond, feeling the fluid work on her loins and seep into the wounds, some mixture seeming to relieve the pain. A light drool comes away from parted lips and she barely notices as her head is lifted, lips pulled roughly and the phallus shoved in down to her throat. Only when it is pushing down into her thin neck where she can taste the slime and bile on it, her own blood coating the skin, does she wake up and begin to gag.
“Now don’t be like that,” says the old man. “Just want you to clean me up is all. Now get sucking you whore.” With this he begins to thrust rapidly in and out of Clare’s mouth. She gags on it, feeling all her secretions and more on the sickening thing, but unable to push it out as she gags trying to breathe, the member jamming itself down into the hollows of her throat. A mixture of puss and blood flow into her mouth as she gags on the man’s member, desperately trying to breathe.
“Haha, she’s doing good,” says the old man. “A real trooper!”
The old man watches the girl’s legs squirm, the blood still flowing freely from her pale skin and motions to another man. “Wanna’ go next?”
A large hulking figure jerks Clare’s legs wide, making her scream against the penis in her mouth, the sound coming out muffled. She hears the jingling of his own belt being unbuckled and feels something like a fat slug jamming itself into her sore vagina, its thick size painful as it thrust into her. Like the old man the large one is no less violent, thrusting savagely, beating her hips like dead meat. With the old man using her mouth they continue to thrust, Clare feeling herself violated from both ends.
The men above her laugh, pawing at her skin, running hands over her stomach and squeezing her breast through the leather fabric she wears. “Nice tits the bitch has,” says the old man, holding her head with one hand while gripping one of her breast with the other.
“Shame we can’t see them,” says the large one, a thick meaty hand on her other breast as he pistons himself in her body. Clare squeezes her eyes shut, shame filling her. When would these men be through with her?
“No reason why shouldn’t,” says the old man. What does he mean by that, thinks Clare but the answer soon becomes apparent as she can feels the old man’s nails dig into her breast, feeling as the fabric is pulled and hears as the fabric tears, jerked from her body with surprising force.
“Mmmmph!” she moans. The cold air slaps against her naked skin and she feels the old man trace a finger along the edges of her scar tissue.
“What have we here,” says the old man, tracing his finger lightly over her skin. “This wasn’t made by us.”
“Silver bitch is gonna’ wish it killed her,” says the other, his fat fingers digging under her leather frame and pulling, ripping away her garment from the other breast. Clare squirms against the old man, trying to fight back her disgust and revulsion. Her mouth and cunt are battered by both men and now her upper torso is exposed to their leering gazes. Never had she thought she would have to worry about such things with normal men. But these were far from normal, and their hands probed her flesh as hungrily as any human lusting after a woman. How she wishes now the scars would deter these men from further abusing her.
As if in response to that mental thought she feels the loins of both men pumping more fervently into her orifices, as if aroused by her abuse. Quicker they thrust, pushing in deeper and further, slapping against her skin faster until the old man is once again spilling his seed, but this time in Clare’s throat instead of her vaginal folds.
Her eyes widen, feeling the thick seed coat her mouth and clog her breathing, the cum spilling from her nose blocking her airways. The man holds her against the hairs of his ball sack, Clare’s face buried to the hilt on his penis, unable to squeeze her teeth shut to bite, simply choking. “Ahhhhhnnn....” the man moans happily, feeling her struggle.
He is holding her throat and head against him, barely letting her move. She barely notices when the fat man spills his seed into her body throwing her legs off and spraying the rest on her thighs. It is hot and sticky dribbling down her legs. “No reason to waste my seed on a whore like this,” the fat man says.
But she does not hear him, instead kicking at the dirt trying to will the old man to release her. And he does, painfully slow, only pulling inch by inch until at last his penis pops out slick with her saliva and Clare gasp violently for air. Spitting and coughing, hacking with the pain in her lungs, her ribs expanding and decompressing quickly, sucking in mouthfuls of air through the thick cum clogging her throat.
She feels him suddenly massaging her breasts, kneading the flesh, his nails raking the soft skin. “Guess you forgot about your pussy now without being able to breathe eh?”
“You rotten bastard,” she hisses. “When I...”
“Next!” the man bellows, completely ignoring her.
“Going to be my pleasure,” says the rat man, kneeling next to her, spreading her legs wide.
“No! Please! Don’t!” she screams, to little avail feeling the thin lanky man ram his cock into her just as roughly as the other two. She cries out, her wet vagina hardly lubricated enough with all its burns. And the man begins to pump into her, Clare sobbing with the pains she feels from both ends now.

Elsewhere the creature writhes, feeding off her pain and growing, healing itself. “Yessss...” it hisses. “Yes, hurt her more.... her pain... brings life.....sssss...”
Its tentacles twist in the air snapping up the taste of the fear and agonies riding on its currents and the creature feeds on the warrior’s agonies.

*******

[darkstalker]

“Ahhhuuu!” Clare groans, feeling each thrust pump against her hips, bringing her up and down, slapping against the rat faced man’s long phallus. It is thinner then the others but long and bruises against her burned insides enough that it makes her scream with each thrust. She jangles her locks behind her arms, the man’s nails raking against her hips as he pumps against her, beating fervently.
Drool dribbles out of her lips and she leans down over his shoulder, not realizing when it was he’d lifted her body off of the ground so she was riding him, grinding against him unconsciously. The only thing she feels, is pain. A scalding fire that burns in her insides, and fetid foul breath as the rat man pumps against her, his breathing ragged and heavy, smelling of strong drink.
“Such a beautiful girl,” he hisses lightly. “I love slipping my thin dick inside you all and making you scream.”
Clare just stares at him from partially lidded eyes, her hips slapping against his own wetly. “And what brings me to cum all the more is fucking your ass with my thin prick!”
Clare closes her eyes, not focused on what he says. Only grunting with each thrust. It isn’t until she feels two fingers slip in through her back hole that she jerks back up, her eyes growing wide and her lips splitting open letting out an ear piercing scream. The mouth closing on her own shocks her as much as anything, feeling the sickly breath against her inner mouth now, his tongue probing with her own, lapping at the cum that still resides on her walls. His fingers continue to probe at her anus, stretching it and she moans against his mouth, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Do the depravities of these monsters know no end?
He pulls away from her, saliva still connecting their mouths and he laughs. “Was starting to think you wuz some dead fish. Glad to know that ain’t the case. Now...”
He grabs his phallus, slipping it out of her hips with a plop. “I think I want to stick this elsewhere.”
She shivers, but doesn’t say anything. What can she do? What should she do?
He places her down against the cold floor, holding her body close to his sweaty chest and begins to push his phallus into her tight orifice. She screams, trying to kick out, unable to do so with the man’s weight on her. And still the phallus continues to push inside her, going further in and deeper. With one quick thrust the man slams the remainder of his member into her body and Clare shrieks. The man holds it inside, twisting and gyrating his body. Clare feels it, writhing on the floor, groaning as her sphincter is penetrated, her anal walls constricting around the snake like thing inside her.
He lifts off her and smiles. “Oh? Don’t you like that deary?” says the rat man. He leans back down, running his tongue over her cheek, making her shiver.
Gripping her shoulders he jerks her back into a sitting position, the sudden movement making her groan as she is unaccustomed to feeling anything inside her anus. The man grips her hair, jerking it back hard. “Oh don’t worry cunt, this’ll feel like heaven compared to what’s going to go in there later tonight.”
She grits her teeth, trying to look at the man with dark eyes, but has difficulty concentrating on things besides what currently penetrates her. As he lets go of her he grabs her breasts, fondling both, suckling on them and begins to thrust into her, slowly at first, gyrating his hips as he moves inside her bowels. He squeezes her breasts, pushing the ends out and suckles on the tips, teeth clamping down on the buds of her nipples and biting down, pulling them straight and letting go only to go and suckle on the opposing nipple.
Clare moans, a light drool coming out of her throat. “Bitch is starting to enjoy it,” says one man. “Better get her working on the other end then.”
A man with a gruff hand grips her throat, pulling her head back, his fingers digging into her neck, squeezing the air pipe while with his other hand he undoes his buckle. “We’re going to put those white slut lips of yours to good use witch!”
He pops out his phallus, a large thick thing covered in hairs. Clare looks at it with quivering eyes, her mouth gasping for air. The man above her laughs, positioning the phallus against her lower lip. He runs it down over her large lip, looking down at her. “You want this down your throat cunt? Feel it clogging your pipes?”
All she answers is a chocked gasp. “Ggkkk–kkk...”
“Good enough for me,” says the man, and thrust his member at once into her mouth. It is large, larger then the old man’s and nearly clogs her windpipe in one go. She struggles against it, twisting. But the man keeps a tight hold on her, pulling out half way slowly and then thrusting back, his ball sack pushing against her nostrils, clogging them with his hairs. He holds her there, chocking while the rat man slobbers over her breast, slowly moving in her anus.
The rat man pulls away, smiling. “Well, I think I better get to work a little more on ‘er.”
“You bet your ass you do,” says the man. “We still all want our turns too!”
“Fair enough,” says the ratty man. He leans towards Clare’s ear and whispers, “It’s about to get rough.”
She is gagging, her head becoming lightheaded, unable to breathe, feeling thick fingers squeezing her neck. So it is a surprise to her when she feels the man’s phallus slam into her anus and make her down the phallus in her mouth even more deeply. She coughs, the drool spilling out of the sides of her mouth over her cheeks and eyes as she feels the pain of it sudden and quick. “Ah... that was nice Joe!” says the large man. “Make her do that more.”
“Sure thing Vince,” says the thin man who begins to thrust into her rapidly. Clare gags, struggling for air, her lungs burning, sucking in and out from the small gaps of her nose but rather then getting air she gets hairs clogging her nostrils while something else slams her anus. Can’t breathe, she thinks. Can’t breathe!
Her eyes begin to roll into the back of her head, her brain deprived of its life giving oxygen. The men laugh, chuckling above her. “Looks like the little cunt is having trouble breathing!”
“Yeah...” says the other man. “Loving how she’s squeezing my cock because of it.”
“Yeah,” says the large man. “Let’s make her work for her air, shall we?”
He puts his other meaty hand on Clare’s neck, squeezing and begins to thrust in and out rapidly, jerking Clare’s head back and forth along his member, slapping his balls against her nose, her gagging reflexes in full swing, trying to push the thick member out and having little success.
Her eyes roll into her head, her body twitching, squeezing on both members as her conscious quickly fades. But the men don’t worry, watching as her body slumps down and goes limp. Instead they thrust more viciously into her, pounding her limp form hard with their large members.
The man above Clare is jerking her down further, twisting her back in a very uncomfortable position, her bones starting to grind as he thrust into her over and over, her hair swinging back and forth, breasts slapping against her chest as he does so. Her eyes have shut, darkness having taken her. But the men are oblivious to it, simply feeling the twitching of her body until their seeds spill.
The man above her squeezes tight, giving some quick jerks, crushing her windpipe with his large hands as he thrust into her, cutting off any chance of oxygen she has opportunity to gain and thrusting into her hard. His seed spills into her mouth in an explosion of cum and fluid, spilling out the sides of her cheeks and out her nose, clogging her senses fully.
Slowly the man pulls out, slowly lightening his grip on her throat. Clare breathes softly, the breathing low and labored. “Such a dirty whore,” the man whispers, pulling his phallus out fully and wiping the remainder of his cum over her neck and against her hair. The cum inside her mouth spills out onto her nose, her mouth twitching, cum dribbling down her face.
He releases her and the other man continues to pound away at her orifices, her breasts flopping as he does so. Her body is fully limp, all sense gone from her.
The rat man pulls her against him, her head lolling over his shoulder, a thin trail of drool flowing out of her lips along with the cum. He pounds into her hips rapidly, her hips slapping against him as her anus is violated with vicious force. “Gonna’ cum! Gonna cum!” says the man.
“Well,” says another man. “Better not let the girl rest here.”
With Clare’s body limp another man takes her head and pushes his penis through her lips, finding no resistance now that consciousness has been driven from her. Slowly he pushes in and out of her, gaining friction while rubbing her cheeks.
Her lips and mouth are numb, her nose clogged by cum. Only a part of her registers anything is happening, or a violation is taking place. Only a part of her remains living. ...

“Yesss... yess...” says a voice. Clare seems to watch herself as beyond it all, outside herself, still feeling a burning in her throat and anus. She feels her throat, watching as her body takes in the phallus set before it that now begins to pound against her face with rough brutal force.
It feels to her as if she is chocking, as if she can’t breathe. Part of her knows she is dying, but she can’t fight it.
The sounds of the men’s grunting, the thrusting against her body, even the pain seems to recede and Clare lowers her hands, the air starting to feel less important to her as her form begins to leave her body, her soul hovering over it, simply watching but still feeling. She feels an overwhelming sadness, wondering what her friends will think at her departure. Wondering why she never returned.
“Oh... but we may enjoy them too...” says a slimy voice behind her. She doesn’t have time to register it before the tendrils are upon her, shoving into both her bodies clogged orifices, taking the place of the phallus inside her and bringing sudden sensations of pain to her.
Her legs are stretched wide, the tentacle probing her anus and slamming inside, making her body scream but at once choking on the phallus pounding into its front end. Clare stares wide eyed, her spirit feeling heavier with pressure.
The creature whispers against her mind, “no.... I will not let you die so easily woman. I would much rather you suffer longer.... Come ... your body awaits....”
And Clare feels her soul, once freed of its pain now sinking back into its depths, caged by its body and feeling renewed sensations of pain and agony, the weight of her body dragging her back into a storm of agony and hell.

*****

[darkstalker]

alright, the final part for the current gang bang before clare is dragged into town for new torture and humiliation. so guys, any suggestions of what you want to see happen to her? i'm all ears. If i like the idea i may use in the next part.

********


The rat faced man turns her limp body around, holding her by one arm as the other man continues to push her face forwards and backwards, mouth fucking her. The woman has lost all her senses, but the rat doesn’t care, having slipped out his penis from her orifice with a pop. It is wet and slimy and he rubs the length which is now hard and stiff.
“Bitch makes a good fuck even when she’s limp like a rag doll,” he says.
“You said it Sal,” says the other man, pushing in and out of her mouth. Sal positions the head of his penis at her entrance way and begins to push it in, groaning as he does so. He can already feel the precum leaking out of the head and knows he won’t last much longer inside the woman’s tight orifices. Not that it matters to him.
Gripping her other arm he begins to slide in and out, slowly at first, feeling his penis warm, his balls already radiating with an intense heat. He gains momentum after a few minutes, quickly slapping against her vagina and wet hole, the blood still leaking out from all the burns she’d received from the torches.
In and out he goes, pumping against her rapidly. His hips slap against her own, slamming against her with a great force.

The other man begins to thrust himself more quickly, feeling the woman’s lips start to quiver, life returning to her numb lips. “Looks like the master won’t let you off so easily,” he says. “Shame for you. You’re just in for a world of pain here.”
And he begins to fuck her in earnest, both men pumping against the woman with twin beats against both her mouth and pussy, slamming into her repeatedly. Her breasts sway to and fro, slapping against her chest, the hard ends seeming all the sharper in the cold night.
Soon the rat man feels himself heat and he spills his seed into her warm body, ejaculating several loads into her womb as he does so, his nails digging into her hips as his back arches and he lets out a great heaving groan. A few quick thrust to finish spilling what little of his seed remains and he slips out of her. The moisture from both her blood and her now lubricated hole making the exit simple and sweet.
He walks away as the other man continues to thrust into her mouth, laying her back down on the floor, thrusting in as deep as he can, feeling her petite throat squeezing around his member, a gagging sound coming from her.

Clare for her own part begins to feel the shape of her body, the weight of it, and all the pains that come with living, including the inability to breathe. She can feel the thick phallus ramming itself down her throat, pushing itself down so far she can’t help but choke.
Her body can not breathe and yet it won’t let go of her, or something keeps pushing her back into the still form, something heavy and malevolent. She can barely move, but the pain races through her like an intense fire that rips through her body making everything scream in agony. Her eyes twitch in response to what is happening, her fingers quivering on the floor beneath her.

The man grips the woman’s hair, feeling the life inside her. “Trying to hide from me, are you? I know you’re in there slut.”
He pushes her face against him, pushing her lips up against his hairy cock, his sweaty stomach heaving. He holds her there for a time, enjoying the feel of her lips which twitch, watching as her eyes begin to flutter, the coughing choking sounds of life coming back to her. He smiles and begins to slam into her, thrusting in and out with a violent ferocity. He slaps his hips against her face as if her very mouth were a wet cunt wanting to be fucked. Viciously he thrust against her, using each thrust to try and damage her fragile throat. Finally he slams her chin against his scrotum, feeling how his penis is curled in her throat, the woman starting to struggle slowly, gagging and coughing against him, the hairs of his stomach stuffing her nose, suffocating her. And still the master won’t let her go and die.
Slowly he withdraws from her. As his member slips out her eyes open wide, a fit of coughing taking hold of her.
He laughs, slapping her face repeatedly. But she doesn’t pay attention, instead more focused on gathering air.
The man smiles and grips her nose between two fingers, squeezing it shut, making her struggle and pushes his penis back down her throat in its most painful position, holding her there, and begins to thrust, her eyes wide now, her body fully awake and fighting against him. He smiles, enjoying how the woman struggles beneath him. A whore to be broken and whipped.

Clare struggles for air, the man’s thick member too thick around and sliding back and forth in her throat viciously, not letting her have any room, any way to breathe. By instinct she is trying to open her mouth wider, trying to accommodate the great girth of it in her throat and get some of the life giving air down into her lungs. But all there is inside is the burning fire, her lungs screaming for their life giving oxygen.
Worse yet is the fact that the man has plugged her nose, not giving her chance to breathe through that orifice either. She is choking, feeling that large thick member slide in and out of her throat, slamming against the back of it and opening it further, tearing it, her throat reflexively squeezing around the great member and still she isn’t getting any air. Getting any room to breathe.
Her eyes are rolling into the back of her, her feet kicking out from beneath the man, shoulders swiveling back and forth, scraping against the sharp stones. Her heart beats a steady thrum, the man’s voice seeming distant and close at once. Her throat is choking but still she can’t die.
Can’t because she isn’t allowed to. The creature she feels around her, pressing its tendril into her mouth and keeping her soul down, pressed into the warm flesh of her body, keeping her inside. She can feel every agony, hear every humiliation and can not even die to resist.

The man laughs, feeling her choke. Enjoys how her throat squeezes around his cock, squeezing the juices out of it. It makes him slam into her faster until he no longer holds her nose, instead holding the sides of her head as he slams into her.
He barely notes when someone else has gripped her legs, spread them wide and slammed his shaft down into her bloody hole. “Gods, she’s tight,” yells the man behind him. “Keep it up Vince! The bitch tightens up each time you slam into her.”
Vince slows, his fingers plugging the girl’s nose again as he holds his cock there. “God yeah!” says Jarod, his hips slamming into the woman with wild abandon. His large double chin wobbles and a slight bit of drool comes down from his lips.
Vince smiles, returning to the woman, leaning down, watching her quiver and choke, her body smacking against the stones as her body is thrust from below. “Don’t worry bitch,” he whispers. “I haven’t forgotten about you.”
He holds her nose, getting himself on his knees, tilting his body weight and begins to ram his engorged member down into her neck again, pushing in and out with a violent abandon and ferocity.

For Clare it is hell. Pure and simple. She can’t breathe, the pain at her throat and nose an intense agony she can barely conceive. Her back and neck tilt, arching in such a way as to try to relieve some pressure and still it does no good. The man above her continues to plow into her with abandon, not caring how he is hurting her.
No... Clare thinks, drool sloshing from the sides of her mouth and down the length of her slender throat. Not that he doesn’t care, but that he wants her to hurt, wants her to feel pain.
It is all the worse for realizing this. How it is that humans can be so violent and hurt each other in this way... hurt her... why? Why is she being victimized like this?
Her thoughts are cut off as the man pushes his penis further in, trying almost to split her jaws apart as he pushes against her.

“Yeah,” says Vince, holding his girth pressed as far and hard as he can against the girl, his member starting to quiver, its thick sack twitching against the back of her throat. He can feel how tight she is in there, how very sore she is. The very thought that under other situations this should kill her turns him on, makes him hotter.
He can feel himself twitching, the heat rising and starts to withdraw, feeling how soft her lips are, curling around his shaft, and slams back. Saliva coats his testicles, running down the girl’s chin and throat, his penis bulging at its sides. He smiles, sliding it out slowly, feeling her tongue quivering and dancing over his underside and he gives in, pushing down against her, almost pressing the weight of his girth down into her, against her small skull.
Each twitch and spasm fills her mouth with seed and he holds her coughing form against him. He keeps her there, choking and gagging, shaking and doesn’t push back from her until her shaking stops.
Slowly he slides his member out from her lips, a thick trail of saliva and cum still joining the end of his twitching penis with her soft pink lips. Her head falls back, a trail of drool and cum leaking out the ends.
“Already a broken whore,” he says, and slaps her against the face, hard. She doesn’t make a sound, barely flinches.
He places her back against the ground slowly, almost gently, rubbing the stubble of his face against her dirty skin.
“Mm.... you smell good bitch. Covered in my manhood.” He feels her shiver beneath him and smiles. “Yes, very good,” he says, trailing his hand down her stomach, his fingers playing on the skin. “I’ll come back for more of you tomorrow.”
He can feel her shiver and he leans away, smiling. “She’s all yours Jarod.”
Jarod isn’t paying attention though, still slamming his girth into the woman’s dead form. Vince turns away, shaking his head. She is in for far more. But for now this will do.

Clare is shivering, feeling the agony in her hips and feeling a sharp chill between her legs. A chill that was formerly at her mouth. She can see it, a form that touches her more intimately then the man between her legs. A form, a creature with several hundred tentacles, all trailing and moving across the skin of her inner self and she shivers. Shivers for once from true fear....

******

[darkstalker]

been awhile since i wrote to this one so i hope you enjoy!
*****


Clare watches him, watches the writhing creature with its tendrils sliding over her hips and genitals, caressing her breasts, nudging the tips of them, running the tendrils over the edge of her neck and passing it over her soft lips. It sends a shiver down her spine, feeling that sensation just beneath her skin as the ghost like apparition wanders over her body.
Her hair being pulled back comes suddenly from the brute who just violated her as he jerks her head back. He kisses her roughly on the mouth, pushing his tongue in, stroking her insides with his flesh. He pulls back, their saliva connecting their lips still. “Satisfied?” she asks, her eyes, hard and cold. She tries to feel nothing, to give him no satisfaction in her violation. By the look in the man’s eyes it’s working.
The man slaps her roughly across the face. “No, not hardly,” he says. “But I’ll have satisfaction.” He jerks on her chain, the metal tightening around her neck as she stumbles forward, giving her trouble breathing. “I guarantee it,” he hisses.
The walk down the hillside is troublesome, Clare’s feet almost slipping beneath her more then once. It does not help her pride or feelings that the men will hoot their pleasure or slap her rear, feeling her body with lust filled hands, their gazes traveling over her naked breasts. Some even pull her back from the one before her, groping her breasts and kissing her roughly before the man ahead of her will jerk the chain and force her forward, stumbling. Worst is when some of the men’s fingers will drift down between her hips, dipping into her still warm opening and poke their fingers inside. From these she is hard pressed to resist screaming with every intrusion as their fingers push inside, stroking her warm flesh and pressing against the aching burns in her vagina. She forces back the tears as each one does so, gritting her teeth. For some reason the wounds there are healing slowly, or not at all. She can only imagine it’s because of the creature who glides by her eyesight. It wafts by in the air its mere presence ominous.
She grunts as another man sticks his fingers into her privates, bruising and tearing healing flesh.
“Seems the bitch doesn’t like it much when we touch her womanhood,” says the old man behind her, his breath stinking of alcohol. His fingers are dipping inside, pressing against the folds of her vagina and Clare can feel the warm trickle of blood still flowing down her hips.
“Doesn’t matter,” says the man before her, jerking her chain so she is mere inches from his face. “She’ll learn and she’ll satisfy. That is her only purpose.”
“Yes,” says the old man, his hands dipping into her leather jerkin or what remains of it, feeling her shoulders. “That is her purpose, isn’t it?” he says, fingers kneading the flesh on her back. She feels him grip the leather there and pull, the fabric tearing. She blinks, holding back her emotion, not wanting to show them that each time they tear at her clothes they tear a piece of her pride. A mere strip is pulled away to hang limply from her hips and then she is pushed forward.
It goes like this for several minutes, the men passing her from one to the other, her hips aching with each touch, various foul mouths pushing between her lips and each man taking a strip of her clothing. By the time they enter the village most of the leather around her hips has been torn away so nothing is covered, her womanhood bare to everyone to look upon.
She sees the fires as they enter the village gates, the men and women waiting looking towards the returning group. They gather around the group in a rush, the man before her struggling to hold his grip on her chain as people huddle in, surrounding her, their hands groping and pulling at her flesh, jerking at her hair. “Looks like new flesh for the master to play with,” says a crone, pulling at her hair. “Nice cunt for fucking,” says a large fat one as he jabs thick fingers into her vagina making her inadvertently squeeze on his fingers and groan.
“Pretty mouth,” says another, before he pushes his lips against hers, taking advantage of her temporary weakness. “Nice tits for whipping,” says a thin man with long nails as he squeezes her breasts his nails scraping the pliable flesh. “Fine ass for the beating too,” says a large one as he slaps her rear then grips both ends, kneading them.
Oh gods, she thinks. Clare’s face burns red with indignation, feeling a hundred hands on her sweaty skin, pulling and pinching as she is pushed back and forth among the group. Lips and mouths press over all of her body. In that time, someone is always jerking and pulling at her chain. She doesn’t even realize at first when the chains are loosened on her wrist until the shackles snap away with a loud crackt. But with the sound she reacts.
A face palm to one man where a nose crunches, a palm to another where a throat caves in and the man falls to the floor writhing and a kick to another brings that man to their knees. But for every man or woman she drops another seems to take their place and her speed and strength is not that of a warrior right now. The toxin has worn her levels down exceedingly. And she can feel a hundred small pricks, see as a snake like appendage withdraws back into the ear canal of some man or woman and feel as the toxin wears away at her.
Right now, she thinks, she is no more powerful then a woman of twenty five with her build and that is almost nothing at all. So it is with little surprise that she finds her body pulled taught, her legs spread wide and bent back across a beam as her arms are soon bent back behind a second beam. Her boots and gloves are violently ripped off, tossed aside like so much debris while her legs and arms are roughly tied. Each arm to each leg and leg to arm so her body is straining against the chords, her breasts and abdomen pressed forward. She tries to move, feeling little slack in the bindings as the wood from the beams grinds against her shoulders and legs. She stares at each man and woman, sensing no yoki in any of them but swearing each one is a yoma beneath their skin and flesh. “I’ll kill all of you,” she growls between grit teeth, tugging at her restraints. Anger welling inside her with her shame.
The man who had been pulling her chain, chuckles. He pulls the chord of a whip tight and smiles grimly. “No bitch,” he says. “I think you won’t.”

*****

[darkstalker]

The whip pulls back and comes down across her breasts with a crack, making Clare cry out. She jerks her head back with the scream, trying to hold back her tears. “Oh,” says the man, twisting the chord up in his hands. “You think that hurt?” He grins and the whip pulls back and comes down with a crack across her tender flesh again, bringing another cry from Clare’s dry lips. “Well, we’re only getting started bitch.”
Crack, the whip hits, cutting another red line against her flesh.
“I won’t stop...” Crack, a fiery pain rushing up her chest. “Until you’re begging!” Crack! Crack! The blows come down successively, swinging her globes violently.
Clare grits her teeth, trying to hold back her tears as the whip cracks across her naked flesh once more, the red mark inflaming her skin. It lands with another crack, making her jerk her spine back but she manages to not cry out as loudly this time even though the pain keeps sending fire up her spine and her breasts beg for mercy.
“Growing quiet eh?” says the man, landing the whip across her tender flesh again, making her jerk, mouth agape, but with no scream coming this time. “Means I just have to work all the harder on you, you fucking whore!”
The whip smacks against the sore flesh, landing successively in three slashes and then is followed by more. She is jerking her head back, biting down on her teeth, the sound grating against her own ears, she working bitterly to hold back her tears as each blow lands on soft flesh. Her hands open and shut of their own accord, flexing instinctively.
It has been years since the organization staff has whipped her in the back for not following the rules, or hurt her at all. The agony back then, when she was a small child, whipped so she could become this... a half breed which is made of yoma flesh and human body combined to kill those fully of yoma flesh...
It is not as if the yoma have not hurt her or seriously wounded her, but the damage has always been quick. A sharp and sudden pain that is gone as quickly as it hits. But this... and on her most tender of organs. It is new... humiliating and continuous. And that is what grinds at her, the humiliation of being whipped in public for the amusement of these... things! For human they are not. Not to treat her as they are. Oh gods... if only she can....
“Aaaahhhh!” she shrieks as the whip lands squarely across her spine from the back, jerking her body forward so her breasts thrust out towards her first assailant.
“Figured I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” says a large man behind her, curling his own whip. “She has a back end as well as a front after all.”
Clare glares, a single tear flowing down her cheeks, teeth bared. She does not beg, does not protest. It will do no good after all. She simply glowers, cheeks inflamed and red with her venom.
“Look it that,” says the man. “The bitch is giving us the stare!”
“Then let’s wipe it off her smug face,” says the first, raising his whip.
“Agreed,” says the second.
Despite her bravado, Clare shivers, fear running down her spine. For all her anger she has to accept that she is bound, helpless, at the mercy of her tormentors. So when the whip comes down and then simultaneously the second comes, it is with extreme effort that she does not cry out and beg already for the pain to stop. For it doesn’t.
The whips come down with dual strikes, landing across her spine and chest then alternating between her buttocks, legs and stomach and inner thighs when they tire of her back and breasts. They even go about whipping her arms and the soles of her feet, that making her truly jump as no yoma has taken pleasure in hurting the bottoms of her feet. The men take pleasure in hearing her scream as the whip rips through her tender flesh, opening skin where it has not been opened before.
The whips crack repeatedly, Clare’s body jerking back and forth, her screams now echoing with each blow, tears flowing. And the crowd... simply... cheers. Each blow brings a roar of approval from the onlookers, lude comments and howls.
“Look it her!” “Looks like she’s fucking with each blow!” “Yes, the harlot!”
Clare sobs, her body sweating with the wet fluid running over her entire body, stinging where the whip marks have torn flesh open and her body bleeds openly. But the worst is all the humiliation. How the men and women not only watch, but cheer for her continued abuse. Each set of eyes gleaming, rotted yellow teeth warped into twisted smiles, and hands wringing themselves as they look at her, bodies shaking and bulges rising in their pants. All the people, their faces grow worse with each blow that lands upon her pale white skin, their faces growing more full of lust and desire.
These people... they disgust her! How can....
“Should we whip her there?” says the man before her, turning to the crowd.
“Yeah!” yells the crowd, fist pumping into the air. “Make her fuck the whip!”
There? she thinks. What could there be?
“Well,” says the man, grinning. “The mob has spoken. Get ready!”
And the whip comes down. Not across her breast or inner thighs. Not her arms or neck or stomach. But across her vagina, snaking under it and sinking up into the folds.
She howls this time, truly bucking against her restraints as the whip cracks against her most tender and intimate of regions. “Doesn’t look like she likes it much!” he says, turning back to the crowd. “How much you think we should whip her then?”
“Fuck her!” yell the men. “Make the wench bleed!”
Clare stares, huffing loudly, sucking in breaths quickly as her most intimate region swells with the sudden pain. She stares from a matt of sticky wet hair at the men who grin down at her. “I’m going to watch now,” says the one who had been behind her. “This I can’t enjoy properly from behind the whore.”
“Suit yourself,” says the first, whip rising. Clare tenses, staring with wide eyes, waiting for that blow to land as hands close into fist and feet curl. God, she thinks, let it end! And the whip comes down....

******

[darkstalker]

“Aaaaaiiiieeeee-aaaahhh!” she cries out as the whip lands solidly between her vaginal folds, her back arching as far as it can, neck straining and arms and legs twisting against their tight bonds. Her hips burn horribly, a lash mark appearing between her legs. She can feel an open tear inside her, blood leaking out already. She lowers her head, panting, biting down on her lower lip to keep herself from crying out.
The man grunts and strides over to her, gripping her hair. “You bleed easy cunt. I thought you were some big, tough warrior.” He lets her face drop, slapping her hard across the right cheek. “Guess all you’re really good for is fucking!”
He jams the whip handle into her vagina, making her groan as she feels her lips pressing down on it, trying to push it down. “The only thing good about you, whore, is down here. Between them spicy legs of yours.”
She leans back, groaning, teeth grit against one another to keep from crying out, hands opening and shutting in agitation. The man laughs, pulling out the whip and slapping her across the face. “Fucking whore,” he hisses, gripping her hair. “Suck on your own cum, you slut!”
She doesn’t fully understand the meaning of this at first, until the man is ramming the handle end between her lips, forcing the corded leather into her mouth and thrusting it savagely. She can taste it, her own blood mixed with the wet lubrication her body let out to try and lessen the pain. It is all so humiliating for her. This man...
“Uuuahhh!” she cries out, spitting out the handle as a fist lands in her stomach, twisting her insides.
“Oi, John!” says the first man. “What are you doing?”
“Well...” says the man, “can’t let the woman have too much fun with herself? After all... we’re here to hurt her for the master.”
She stares at the man coldly, her eyes boring holes into him. But the men ignore her completely. “What do you have in mind?” says the first.
“Oh, nothing much,” says the man, twisting the whip cord around his wrist. “Just some good tenderizing of the beef here.”
The first chuckles. “Go ahead then. I’ll watch. Feel free to fuck her after, but I’ll have her sweet cunt right after.”
“Yeah...” says the man, standing before her, pulling back his fist. “I can really get into this.”
She stares at him, her heart thundering. She’s already taken a lot of abuse from both men, hell, from the whole of the small group who’d been dragging her down here. What more could they do to her? But looking at the man before her, she knows they’re just getting started. And for once, she begins to pray.
That’s when the blow comes. The fist grinds into her stomach, knocking the breath out of her. She grunts, squeezing her eyes shut. “That’s only the first,” says the man, following the blow with a second to the stomach. “And second...”
He smiles, counting the blows he lands on her stomach, making her cry out briefly before another blow lands, the veins on her neck straining, hands clenching and unclenching. She looks up into the sky, wishing it all to stop. Then cries out as a blow lands between her legs.
“Oh, that one got a real nice scream from you eh?” he says. And he lands another blow between her legs making her yell. “Good,” he whispers next to her ear.
“When I get out of this, I’m going to kill you,” she hisses.
The man slams his fist into her crotch, grinding it into her pelvis, making her eyes bulge, the scream tearing through her lungs. “No...” says the man, shaking his head, then slams his fist across her right cheek and grips her hair tightly, jerking it up. “I don’t think so.”
And again he lands a blow on her crotch. He keeps at this, making her scream, switching between her stomach and crotch, sometimes even slamming his fist into her face at full force so blood and spit fly. She feels her cheeks swell but at once feels the cooling of her abilities closing the wounds. It makes the man above her laugh. Her pain and agony, it amuses him. She’ll kill him.
Then a blow lands somewhere unexpected. At the side of her neck. She feels her larynx crunch, her eyes rolling back into her head as she feels herself die once more and then there’s that ghost of the monster, laughing and chuckling. Forcing her spirit back into her body, activating more of her energies to heal and close the wounds or open obstructions. Making her gasp out loud as she feels her blockages open up again, the man at her hips laughing as he thrust savagely, grinding his pelvis against her.
“I knew you were a masochist, you cunt,” he says, thrusting up into her again, pushing into her pained body, so tight because of the swelling, his crotch feeling like it’s ripping her open. “You make me so hard here, wanting to fuck you cunt,” he says. “I couldn’t resist or wait for the master to put you back in.”
His teeth bite down on the side of her neck and she stares wide eyed. He knew. He’d known that his blow had killed her and yet here he is, thrusting inside her, his lust filled member growing larger and stiffer as it pounds against her tender insides. He knew.
She grunts, crying out with each thrust as the man pumps inside her hips, running his mouth down her collar bone, her sternum and then down to her breasts, his mouth suckling on her left and then nipping at it until his teeth finding her areola and he bites down, pulling savagely as if he wishes to tear it off. Through all this he is thrusting against her, pumping his hips violently.
“Oh, you’re so good bitch, so wet. When I get my next go around I’m gonna fuck your back end too.”
He grips her breasts, taking hold of her orbs and begins to pump savagely into her hips as he squeezes and crushes her mammaries in his grip. She arches her back, thrusting her head back, crying out, and the man continues to thrust. Slamming into her continuously, growing more violent and insistent with each push until he is pulling back himself, ripping at her breasts and groaning loudly as he pumps his load into her. His seed fills her sore membrane, spilling into it with a hot flash. The man thrust a few more times, spitting the last of his seed into her before letting go slowly, sliding his flaccid cock out of her hips. Her sore body drips with his white cum, mixing with a trail of blood from the whip lashes that he’d aggravated with his thrust.
The man chuckles and leans towards her. “I’m coming back cunt. For seconds!” and he squeezes her cheeks, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and kisses her deeply. He lets her go after what seems an eternity, his fingers having found their way between her lips, pushing inside, and smiles. Pushing her head away with a shove he pulls his trousers up and slaps his friend’s shoulder.
“She’s a good fuck. You ought to give her a try.”
“I did,” says the first. “And I’ll have her again.”
The second nods and walks away. The first now turns towards her, smiling with yellowed teeth. “I hope you enjoyed your reprieve cunt, because that’s all it was.”
And then he lifts his whip and Clare simply stares, her eyes going wide.

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