Warrior of The Chevaan

Interlude

The depths of the forest

 

Then…

The three men had taken their turns with the beautiful young priestess and now they were ready to deliver her final punishment for her people's defiance of Roman supremacy.

Strewn on the ground before them, the angelic creature retained her radiant beauty even despite the mud and dirt and cum that stained her. The thin. Low cut tunic that would have once provocatively displayed her cleavage as it hugged her full breasts and narrow waist had been torn away within seconds of her capture, likewise the leather belt that pulled the garment tight and the underwear that she wore beneath the cloth that fell down between her long legs at the front and back, leaving her bare almost to the hip at the sides. Only the soft buckskin shoes on her feet had been left to her; that and the trailing cloak and its face-shadowing hood, beneath which her eyes shone bewitchingly.

None of the soldiers could have answered, if asked, why they had chosen to leave the captive holy woman's hood undisturbed, when an simple wrench of its cloth could have afforded them a full view of a face that, by all visible accounts, was fair indeed. Only the woman knew why, but that knowledge served little to help her in her current plight.

The woman moaned softly as she fought to recover her strength. They had wasted no time once they had overtaken her, as she fled from the destruction of the Holy Grove, her abilities exhausted by the healing of the wounded warriors until only flight had been the only option left to her. A stumble, a cry, and the human beasts had been upon her, ripping away her clothes with vicious glee to reveal the handsome body beneath. The look in the eyes of the men as they drank in her full breasts, tanned nipples, flat stomach, long slender legs and thin thatch of curling copper hair between her smooth thighs had told her she could expect no mercy at the hands of these invaders. To them she was a prize to be conquered and possessed, a thing to use. And use with abandon.

The eldest had taken her first, pushing between her legs and ignoring her cries and curses and as his two subordinates held her down, one pinning her arms and the to other her legs. They had laughed as she squirmed futilely to deny him access to her, while his strong coarse hands mauled her breasts, squeezing them painfully and sucking them loudly, biting them. She had bucked and heaved but the three of them together had pinned her fast, until with horror she had felt the sickening brush of his phallus as he used one hand to guide his head to her pubis. She had prayed this was a nightmare, that she would awaken and find herself safe among her sister, but from this nightmare there would be no escape.

The man had smiled as he pushed his cock-head between her outer lips, enjoying the hurt he could se on her face. He liked that it hurt her, this proud barbarian who thought her people could defy Rome. The dryness of her channel had chaffed him to, but he could endure the discomfort, knowing her pain would be so much greater. Her melon tits and been warm and soft in his hands as she used them to pull her onto him, wiggling his hips to borrow deeper into her and being rewarded with her angry sobs.

 

The two men watching had felt their own members rock hard beneath their tunics as they watched their superior fucking the young captive, watching the way her firm body moved and struggled under his weight and anticipating how she would feel under them when their own turns came. Her musical voice was turned to cries of anguish and impotent rage, her red lips curled in disgust as she endured the feel of the man inside her, pushing deeper into her most sacred place. As the Roman began to build a steady trusting rhythm her round boobs had danced erotically as the rapist had shifted his hands to grip the firm round muscles of her ass, gaining leverage for his pumping of her red haired quim.

The soldier quickened his pace, eager to reach his climax. His thrusts became rapid and shallow, grabbing onto her tits and using them to pull her ups onto him as he ground her firm ass down into the dirt. Finally he stiffened, a wordless gasp bursting from him as he had felt his manhood unload its contents inside the gorgeous savage as he drove into her up to the hilt, grinding against her mons.

When at last his powerful orgasm had subsided the soldier had withdrawn, leaving the prisoner lying panting and sweaty on the ground where she was still held by her other captors. The Roman had smiled down at her as she wept softly and glared up at him beneath the shadows of the hood, but the other men left her no time to collect her strength. Immediately they hauled her up, flipping her over roughly so that she lay belly down on the brown forest floor, sticks and leaves rubbing against her naked tors and tits as the man who had been holding her feet wrenched her legs apart and mounted behind her, his hand fumbling to release his engorged penis as he pushed apart her ripe ass cheeks, seeking her hole.

The shriek of protest when the man finally pushed his cock into her tight anus had brought a laugh from the rapists and a fresh flood of tears from their victim. His phallus had felt like a forest oak as it punched brutally at her sphincter, tearing cruelly at the puckered flesh as it drilled into her rear. Strong hands had dragged her into a position on all fours with one man pinning her hands in front of her while she was sodomized, her big boobs bouncing as they hung towards the ground. She had struggled to relax her ass muscles, allowing him to bugger her more easily in the knowledge that resistance would only make the rape more excruciatingly painful.

The man behind her felt her ass relax, calling a comment to his friends that bought an appreciative chuckle. They had known it was only a matter of time before the primitive slut would succumb to her need for Roman cock. The man in her rear sped up his attack, glad to be able to penetrate her more easily and fully, though she remained wonderfully tight around his rampant organ. His hands had slid up to fondle her plump young tits as he fucked her, tweaking her nips and squeezing the ripe orbs like udders.

The sight of his friend thus engaged had been too much for the last Roman – unable to wait any longer for his piece of this young captive he had thrown himself on the ground beneath her, pulling himself around as he discarded his runic bottom and aimed his jutting member up at the moist reddened folds of her still aching pussy.

The delectable Chevaan girl had watched the Roman squirm beneath her but could not muster the courage to glare hatefully at him as she slid under her. As she had felt his hands reach up and push open her battered outer lips she had squeezed her eyes tight shut and prayed to the goddess this horror would end. When his vile instrument had at last pushed into her from below to add to the painful humiliation of the cock in her ass, she had known her prayers would go unanswered.

For ten minutes, the two men had fucked her mercilessly between them while she wept in shame.

The man in her ass had come first, his jism emptying into her like a scalding flood while her slammed his cock inside her, trying to hurt as much as possible. Her anguished cry and the feel of his companions movement filtering through to his own encased phallus had pushed the other man over the edge, his athletic body bucking as she gushed inside her cunt and reached up to grab the dangling tits, biting them hard enough to draw blood and illicit his won trophy scream from the helpless woman.

Finally, exhausted, the priestess had swooned and passed out.

When she had woken she had found herself tied with her hands above her heads to a forest tree, her back against the hard bark and her legs spread shamelessly wide and held in place by tow stakes that had been driven into the ground and her ankles bound to them with ropes at about 90 degrees apart. She felt hot and sticky and could still feel and smell the men's warm sex trickling from her abused orifices, so when knew she had not been unconscious long, no more than half an hour.

Any further musing on her part had been interrupted by the sight of the naked swords in the nem's hands.

Satisfied with their use of the prisoner, eager to report back to their cohort before they were missed and due punishment, and too lazy to drag the young captive all the way back to their fortress, the soldiers had decided to indulge in a well loved and sadistic game developed by their kind for dealing with these savage womenfolk. Each would take turns making cuts somewhere on her beautiful body, the object being to make the prisoner scream and writhe as erotically as possible. Dice would be cast to determine the location of the incisions. At the end of an allotted time, the man who done the most to make the prisoner suffer would have the honour of delivering the final cuts, this time to her sweet and unprotected young sex, before she was at last allowed to die.

The first cut had been across the top of her luscious young tits, a thin red line that birthed ruby drops that spilled down over her heaving breasts, highlighting their magnificent firm curve and the trickling down over her hardened nipples to fall in crimson raindrops on her flat abdomen. More tears of pain had sprung form her eyes and ran down over her cheeks, but the words she had spat at her tormentors had carried no pleading, only venomous hatred.

'You may ravage my body, you may mark me, you may even kill me, but you will never break me` or my people. We shall be avenged, scum of Rome!'

The men had not understood her primitive babble, but had caught its tone of defiance. It made them laugh more, as they kept on hurting her.

While she cried and sobbed and cursed and screamed, they cut her. Over and over.

They cut her stomach so the blood rand down between her thighs. They cut her upraised arms so that it ran down onto her full chest.

They cut her legs, her calves, her strong smooth thighs. The blood made pretty patterns against her previously flawless skin while she wriggled and squirmed. Some cuts wee quick; others they took their time like a scribe with a quill while the woman struggled to hold herself rigid, lest she impale herself on the steel blade.

They had left the torture of her splendid breasts until last. By then her whole body was drenched with perspiration, shining a she wiggled. With deft precision they had taken turns cutting the soft pleat flesh, razor cuts that bled freely and sent red streams running down those goddess-like orbs. Above, below and around her nubbins the blades carved a journal of pain into her helpless mammaries, so that she screamed and howled freely and then sucked lungfuls of air that made the sliced tits rise and fall like mountains of flesh as they paused to allow her to recover her strength.

At last they had had enough, their time at an end. One man had come forward, the agreed sinner, and with his word parted the putting lips of her crack. She had winced, looking up at him, spat at him, listed to his laugh. He had pushed harder, piercing the fold, making her suck in air as she prepared to feel the roman metal tearing her open, wanting him to cut her, for the pain to end, hating him for drawing the torture out, even at the end.

The men had been looking down at the brutalised prisoner as the sword tip poised at the pink entrance to her cunt, loving her pain, her fear, and her beauty that was amplified by the other two. They had wet their lips in anticipation of her final screams and her erotic dance of agony as she felt the sword ripping her sex apart, confident in their victory and the fact that no one could save this savage young beauty.

It had only been when the warrior woman Conine had dropped from the shadowed branches above, clad in chainmail and wielding a three foot iron sword that cut through the sword-wielders shoulder like butter, that they had guessed they might be mistaken.

End of interlude…