Friday, August 30, 2013

(Fan)fiction Friday 13: Shallya's Will Ch. 5

The New Role

Tags: [Futa/F] [Rape] [Huge dick] [Cum] [Beating] [Anal]

During their rest, they had slipped down along the wall gradually, until they were both lying on the spread-out bundle of rags and blankets, with only a sparse few bits of cloth wrapped around them. The dungeon was dark and the low noises of many women echoed quietly between the walls, but with no nearby opening to the outside, it was a pleasant temperature, at least. It remained impossible to tell what time of day or night it was.

Julia had for the first few days in the hole felt like she knew what time of day it was, but she had forgotten now. It was getting harder to remember how long she had spent in here. A month? Two? The first cuts were well-healed by now, and so were many of the subsequent ones. The redhead sighed, turning her head to the left to watch the brown-haired girl sleeping against the warrior’s arm.

That Vesper, she had barely fallen asleep before she started to twitch and whimper. Julia had never experienced anyone so wracked with nightmares. It had taken a very long time for her to get used to the tossing and turning, but she had finally fallen asleep herself. Now, she simply laid on her back, next to Vesper, refusing to remove the arm wrapped safely around the initiate. She obviously needed the comfort, even in her sleep.

The warrior squeezed Vesper’s tense shoulder gently, looking up in the darkness above them. There was a stone ceiling up there somewhere. During her first days here, she had tried to get out, screamed, crawled, punched and ripped at every conceivable exit, until the abbess herself had finally come down to the cell. Julia ran her hand carefully over her toned stomach, wincing a little at the memories. Not really the pain, more the words that Syrith had said. They echoed in her mind even now, after so many more nights and days in this hellhole.

“You don’t have to understand, Julia. You only have to accept that you are but one cow in a herd of cattle. You live or die by the whims of your betters.” She had whispered the words quietly, to herself. With a deep sigh, she pulled up the blanket covering the plagued initiate, hiding her more prominent features. “Not that it matters,” thought the warrior. “They’ll be here to start it all over soon enough…”

As minutes passed for the quiet redhead, Vesper’s whimpering grew into something resembling crying, though there were no tears. Finally, with an almost exasperated sigh, Julia rolled to her side and reached her other bruised, muscled arm over the girl’s stomach, turning her to her side. Their bodies squashed together lightly, with one still asleep and one covered in the marks of a fight.

At some point, the tired, beaten woman heard a wet gasp and felt the novice’s body jolt. Hesitant arms and cool, soothing hands wrapped around Julia’s back. She squeezed Vesper as best she could, holding the shaking girl close. It took a moment until it dawned on her that the initiate was quivering with barely-contained tears. All she could do was hold Vesper close, her head sagging against the novice’s shoulder lightly in shame. The frail woman needed comfort, and all she had was a beaten, gruff warrior who only had one weapon when it came to emotional damage; Suppression.

The two laid there in the darkness, one ashamed and one deathly afraid of what the next hours would bring, both wondering when, not if, their captors would return.


As time wore on, guards came and went in the dungeon, to remove and replace the inhabitants of the cells. Cell-doors screeched against stone and were followed by silence, screaming or low moaning. Julia instinctively curled her arms tighter around the quaking girl in her arms. Each time a boot-clad foot hit the stone outside their cell, she could feel the initiate shake with fear.

She could have peered out through the cell door, she could have seen the guards drag naked women off, but instead preferred to lean her head against Vesper’s shoulder and neck. For once, she preferred not to see, to instead hold the young woman in her arms and pretend that today, the gods would have mercy.

Three sets of metal footsteps came to a halt outside of their cell. “Of course not,” thought the warrior, struggling to hold back an ironic, hopeless smile. She squeezed the shivering girl in her arms, and then loosened her grasp.

For once, Julia refrained from struggling. Two guards pulled her apart from Vesper. She managed to catch the third guard planting a knee in the vainly struggling girl’s lower back, only for him to grab at the novice’s arms to tie them behind her back. The warrior knew very well what she had coming, herself. After the first many days of fights, scratches and kicks, the guards were all too keen to deal out punishment to her when they could.

One guard had hooked his arms under hers and held her in place. A fist slammed against her already blue and yellow jaw, turning her face along with the impact. Thin ropes of spittle flew through the darkness from her ruptured lower lip. She spat at the floor defiantly, running her tongue over the small rupture in her lip. She was more prepared for the punch landing against her stomach. The hit was met by taut muscles. It hurt, but that was all. She gave them no more reaction than what they could force out of her reflexes. The warrior quickly became a boring target, and was dragged over the floor, only a little behind a struggling Vesper.


The short journey from the cell up to the orgy hall was no longer much of an event for Julia. She deliberately let her bare feet drag limply over the floor, listening to the softly grinding sound. The guards clearly cared little for what she did. They had dug their gloved fingers into the flesh of her biceps and simply carried her along. She could almost physically feel their surprise at the lack of struggling.

For Vesper, however, it was a different story. With her arms stretched down along her sides and then tied by the wrists over her curvy little butt, she stumbled along, panicking, wet breaths catching in her throat. Her teary, ice-blue eyes scanned the stone brickwork of the hallways, looking for doors or exits of any kind, but there was very little except the occasional black stone corridor stretching to the side of the main path.

As she rounded a corner, the guard pulled harder, causing the scared initiate to stumble and almost fall. The guard grunted and simply dragged her along by the arm he had hooked under hers. Her shoulder strained painfully, but she had no time to get back up with the tempo the man had set.


It started off as only a low, occasional noise, barely registered in the background inbetween the dragging of feet against stone, heavy breaths and intermittent, high-pitched sighs of pain. Eventually, the sound of steel against steel became louder, and below it, other sounds grew and blossomed into their own horrible melody.

Steel hit steel. A gurgling, desperate scream rose, then the sound of bodies smacking into, against other bodies followed. The thump of fists against soft skin, the sharp sound of bodies hitting the stone floor, both of them mixed with rhythmic moans, sighs and pleads of forgiveness, or begging for more.

Vesper was dragged around a corner, and suddenly, as she stumbled forward, the hedonistic overture hit her straight on. The enormous room opened around her, overwhelming her senses with impressions. It was all too much.

The room was one giant mess of circles of people surrounding slaves, small arenas where people fought, clusters of bodies piled on other bodies, rapes carried out surrounded by what appeared to be intimate scenes. Goat-headed, rippling creatures sparring with regular humans were everywhere in the room, flexible girls and women danced around iron poles, and innocent youngsters were murdered and bled dry into the waiting mouths of mutants and humans alike.

The guards forged a path through the utter chaos of humanoid forms, dragging the two young women towards the opposite side of the large room. They were heading towards what appeared to be a wooden throne. The wide armrests were held up by intricately detailed, naked young women carved into the block of dark wood that made up the large seat. In the throne, with obscenely spread legs, sat the leader of this cult. The now naked, raven-haired beauty who had welcomed Vesper on that first night. Abbess Syrith.

As she came closer, she could see more of the matriarch of the cult. There was apparently going to be some spectacle to amuse the bored-looking woman, as the floor immediately in front of her was clear of any writhing bodies in a relatively large circle. Vesper’s eyes travelled up along the abbess’ shapely, athletic legs, and then stopped. The tendrils of worry lashing around inside her stomach solidified to a block of ice as she saw it, a hefty, veined cock lying limply against the throne, between the woman’s statuesque legs.

The intiate’s breathing accelerated rapidly, her chest heaving and falling. The images of the last time she had been up in this hall flooded her mind, a lightning flash in her mind bringing back the images she could now imagine herself in the middle of from the night before. The dark-haired beauty on the throne, hammering into her defenseless form. She shuddered, vividly remembering feeling the slimy come drip from her, before she was dragged away.

She ripped her eyes free, for now ignoring the rest of the well-trained form on the throne to focus on the eyes of the figure. The orbs that met her were crowned with pitch-black irises, staring haughtily, hungrily back at her. It felt as if the blackness tore at her, into her soul, consuming her in an instant and then growing bored with her again. The feeling seemed to only last for a moment, but when the shivering novice emerged from the hold of the abbess’ eyes once more, she was in front of the woman, held in place by her arm by the silent guard.

Behind her, Vesper heard a low grunt and the sound of naked skin against stone, and then a low thump. She wrestled her frightened eyes from the horribly enchanting being in front of her, to cast a look behind her. The two guards carrying Julia had thrown her on the ground, and one had apparently given her a kick in the side. Still, the hardy, battered fighter was getting on her feet, almost before the guards merged with the convulsing, lewd mass of creatures surrounding the matriarch’s spot.

At the sound of whispered words, the girl’s head snapped back to look at the dark-haired woman on the throne. Dark, wispy tendrils of blackness were coiling around Syrith’s right arm like lazy, thin snakes, extending through the air towards the brown-haired plaything in front of her.

A black tendril grazed the novice’s forehead, pushing an unruly lock of hair away. A second tendril coiled around the initiate’s ear, and then pressed lightly against her temple. A third tendril extended, mimicking the second, on the other side of Vesper’s head. A final, fourth tendril came to rest under the bound woman’s chin, pushing her slightly downcast face upwards. The matriarch more spat than said a last word, causing the tendrils to jolt, sending the girl’s eyes rolling upwards in a forced, standing trance.


Vesper heard wicked laughter first, and then all the other sounds of the orgy room. Vision, smell and feeling returned to her gradually as the black tendrils receded. She felt slow and heavy, spent, as if having worked hard an entire day. She looked at the abbess sitting in front of her, seeing her lips curl in a cruel, amused smile.

“Orphan,” she said nonchalantly. The word hit Vesper like a whip.

“You live for others, punishing yourself for events you could never have influenced,” the abbess cooed, slowly getting up, taking the three fluid steps necessary to reach the girl standing in front of her, running a hand along the novice’s soft shoulder, up along her neck and into the long, slightly curly hair, taking a firm hold that drove a hissing gasp of pain from Vesper.

“You think your pathetic goddess is testing you, don’t you, girl? You desperately search for wisdom and meaning in a world where there is none, you seek a mythical better tomorrow…” The raven-haired beauty’s lips curled into a hateful snarl as she jerked the girl’s hair roughly, her voice rising to a shout.

 “There is no tomorrow!”

“Shallya’s world failed before it even began, little one. Tomorrow is -never- coming,” said the abbess, her voice gradually falling to a low whisper. She looked into the icy blue, darting eyes so close to her own, smirking once more. Leaning back, she pressed her tongue out between her lips, withdrew it and then spat at Vesper.

The transparent glob of spit splattered against the initiate’s face, her eyes only barely closing in time. She stumbled forward blindly, the demanding hand stuck in her hair pulling her towards the throne. She felt and heard the abbess sit down once more, then felt a hand clasp around her middle, dragging her close, squishing her thigh up against the thick dick. She shivered, but clearly felt that there was no getting away from someone with the kind of strength that held her in place against the abbess’ center.

Shaking her head, Vesper blinked her eyes open once more. She looked down, seeing black-nailed fingers spread slightly against her firm tummy, then a hand came into her field of vision under one leg, lifting it up and placing it so that the novice’s knee and lower leg hung on the outside of Syrith’s thigh. The positioning was repeated with Vesper’s other leg, and she was then pulled close to the body behind her, feeling large tits squash and flatten a little against her taut back and tied arms. Directly below her exposed pussy, the wide, veined shaft was coming to life, hardening, growing thicker and longer.

“Now, Vesper… You simply have to accept your new role. You have to see what the world is becoming. Look out at my disciples, see the truth.”

From her perch atop the abbess’ thighs, Vesper could more clearly see the room at large. Her eyes quickly scanned the depraved landscape of the room, seeing deadly fights and acts of torture side by side with scenes that looked like star-crossed lovers had at long last found an opportunity to complete their love.

There were sensual scenes of affection, the snaps of whips, an overflow of unions spanning the spectrum from violent to loving, and even what appeared to be a station of tied women to be used completely at the discretion of anyone in the room. The initiate quickly looked away from the room at large, preferring instead to focus her eyes in front of her, on Julia.

The proud, tough woman was circling a four-armed, amazonian woman. Apparently, the fight had been going on for a little while, as the four-armed being was bleeding from her nose, and Julia was rolling her left shoulder, as if to restore feeling.

After this myriad of different impressions, Vesper had almost forgotten where she was and how she was positioned, but it quickly came back to her. The matriarch’s black-nailed, spread fingers pressed harder against the initiate’s flat stomach, while the other hand came to rest just a few inches down the inside of one of those widely spread thighs.

Vesper felt hot breath against her ear, and soon after soft, wet lips closing around her earlobe. Then, gradually, she felt a mounting pressure against her pelvis. It was an odd feeling, warm, soft, but at the same time insistent. The initiate looked down, her heart clogging her throat as she saw what she assumed to be the first half of Syrith’s hefty dick between her legs, rubbing lazily against her exposed inner thighs, smearing a little sticky, transparent precum into her skin.

With breaths catching in her throat, the novice started twisting, wriggling and flexing nervously, but she was held in place easily enough, achieving little other than grinding the head of the abbess’ cock against her skin and nether lips. Seconds felt like eternities as the bulbous cockhead pushed up against her cunt, the initiate’s struggling increasing despite the now rough handling of her stomach and thigh, nails digging into her tender skin.

At the very last moment, when Vesper could feel herself her body beginning to hesitantly spread around the abbess’ shaft, a heavy thumb and a grunt pierced the atmosphere immediately in front of the two on the throne. The pressure against her stopped, and she relaxed ever so slightly. In front of the throne, Julia had been slammed against the ground by the four-armed woman. For a moment, Vesper felt sure that she saw the redhead send a quick glance up at her, barely a noticeable diversion of her attention, but still one that the initiate sensed.

For a short while, Syrith’s attention remained on the two struggling forms on the floor in front of her. The vicious beating that the insolent warrior received from the four-armed amazon was met with rapidly waning interest, though, especially after Julia managed to free herself. Still, her sides were glowing red from the amount of hits she had received.

Once again, Vesper felt the insistent pressure against her clenching cunt, her toes curling as she felt the thick shaft begin to push into her. Her breathing came in shaky, superficial gasps, her entire body tense as tight, aching pussy slowly became stuffed with two inches of potent, steely dick. She barely registered another loud incident in the fight in front of her, and it appeared that Syrith’s attention would not be easily diverted either, at this point. All Julia’s new attempt solicited was a brief stop in the slow, grinding entrance into the shivering girl as the matriarch glanced towards the fallen warrior, and then once more focused on her prey.

Vesper could, by now, only stare down her front. The sounds and sights of the fight in front of her grew distant, blurry shades barely registered in the corners of her eyes. The domineering hands grasping her relatively small form rearranged slightly, providing her a moment of respite as fingers trailed over her front, teasing against her vaguely defined ribs until they reached and harshly grabbed one of her breasts, kneading the flesh.

The hand on her thigh merely moved below her taut leg, enabling the black-haired abbess to lift the initiate upwards, off of the turgid member and then let her clenching walls slowly spread out again as she was simply held in place, gravity doing the majority of the work. Her eyes remained fixed down along herself, watching with mildly fascinated horror as she bulged just a fraction of an inch outwards when the tip of thick, hard dick slowly bored into her pressuring, tense cunt.

It became harder to track time for the novice, as Syrith seemed to be content with merely massaging the tip of her massive shaft in her new toy.

“Take… What you want,” came the matriarch’s almost sensual whisper, causing Vesper to snap back to reality, her eyes straining to try and catch a glimpse of the raven-haired beauty. She could feel teeth gently tugging at her earlobe.

“The only thing that matters, is yourself…” The last two words were stretched out in a hiss, and with them, the initiate gradually arched her back, her eyes bulging as she felt the woman finally sink her cock in deeper in a slow, languid slide. A frantic inhalation caught in the girl’s throat, her toes curling as she felt herself utterly impaled, yet the abbess continued on, stuffing more pulsing cock into the meekly whimpering initiate on top of her, pressing, almost hammering in the last possible bit of cockflesh she could fit, finally drawing a satisfying, shaky sob from her victim.

For an eternity, the two sat on the throne. The brown-haired, naked initiate’s back arched madly, and the victorious, pleasantly smirking matriarch merely stayed in place. Vesper’s body shook with a sob again, her body clenching, shaking slightly as she refused to relax her muscles and let her rapist have her way entirely. For more than a minute, the two were as a single, obscene statue.

Finally, with a wet, despairing gasp, the novice could hold no longer, her body relaxing and falling against the strong body that held her in place. The hand groping her breast slowly snaked its way down over her side, feeling almost as if it laid claim to her skin as it descended down her form, ending with a firm grasp of her thigh.

With the initiate’s body once again conquered, it seemed that the revered mother had but one care left, and that single need had to be sated now. She managed a few testing, rolling thrusts, but soon seemed to lose control, her fingers squeezing the sensitive skin of Vesper’s thighs as she manipulated the girl’s form up and down at increasing speed, battering her rock hard, immensely-thick fuckrod into the writhing, whimpering woman on top of her.

“Nh, nnh, nhah! Mhnh!” The young woman’s initial, whimpering gasps quickly grew into more high-pitched, gasping breaths as the grinding, tearing pain from her stretched insides grew more insistent for every pounding thrust. Her body shook for every time she was skewered, pushing against the slightly sweaty form of the matriarch behind her.

After reaching a momentary crescendo, Vesper’s high-pitched squeals died down to meek, quiet sobs for every time she the fat cock bored into her tight snatch. The firm, domineering hands on her thighs and the lips around her earlobe were beginning to show a hint of desperation and lack of restraint, but the initiate barely felt the difference. Her mind was already clouded with permeating pain and a desperate, flickering fantasy of what life could, should have been like for her, to an extent that she was almost in a trance.

Through this trance-like state, she vaguely, between hammering thrusts, noticed Julia held against the stone floor by the four-armed beast. Vesper’s head lolled around aimlessly as she was slam-fucked against the abbess’ strong thighs, but she could not get the image of the grotesque beast jamming a large cock into the woman she had for a brief moment imagined as her protector in this place, someone who might, somehow, save her.

That hope was thoroughly extinguished as she watched the warrior simply lie on the stone floor, rocking back and forth as she was asspounded. Almost as if it was not her body being violated, Vesper faintly noticed that the grinding fuck had stopped, and that she was now pressed down around a spasming, cum-spewing rod. The foreign warmth felt alien, disgusting as it splattered against her cervix.

She would have cried, attempted to struggle even, but her eyes were locked with Julia’s green orbs, drawing strength from her beaten cellmate, somehow. Full feeling slowly returned to the initiate, her anchor in reality restored by Julia’s shockingly calm look. Her cunt involuntarily convulsed around the thick cumcannon that continued to spew rope after rope of jizz into her, so much so that she could feel it obscenely bubble from her clenching pussy, rolling and dripping down the part of the shaft left outside of her.

The hot, thick strands of semen continued hosing into her, the pressure against her inner walls mounting slowly. She was simply too stuffed full of wide fick for the copious amount of jizz to have room to dribble out of her at the rate that it was fired in.

Just as she started to thrash weakly, the fountain of cum died down, shooting a few last blasts of cum before it slowed to a dribble. Vesper let her head hang, her cheeks burning as she realized that Julia had been staring up at her the entire time. The warrior could not possibly have missed seeing the chewy, flooding cream leak from her abused cunt.


Vesper was left impaled on Syrith’s softening cock, the hand previously guiding her body up and down instead exploring and caressing her moist skin. The initiate could clearly hear the rape taking place in front of her, but could not bear to see her protector be violated. Oddly, there was very little sound save for the panting of the assailant, and the odd grunt from Julia when she was hit or kicked by someone.

At some point, the guard who had dragged the girl up to the hall returned and roughly pulled her from the matriarch’s lap. The trip back to the cell was unclear to Vesper, her mind already straining from the events that had transpired. As she stumbled along, she could almost physically feel the second rape layering itself on top of the first. By the time she was thrown back in the cell, she was shaking with disgust and pent up tears that she refused to let out. She was dirty, sweaty and stained with the abbess’ fluids, she ached and could barely feel her arms or shoulders anymore, still tied with the rope around her wrists as she was.

By the time the guards dragging Julia came, Vesper had wormed her way onto the rags and blankets near the wall of the room. Lying on her stomach, she more felt than saw the presence of the guards, especially as one of them made his way over to her and bent over her. She froze up entirely, her eyes wide as she stared backwards and up as much as she could. For a long, long moment, the man stood still, then she felt something bite into the rope holding her wrists in place. With a light snap, the rope was cut, and the guards disappeared as quickly as they had entered, closing the iron bar door, leaving the two lightly panting women behind them.

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