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Chapter 18 - The Dear Price of Borrowed Time
In the darkness of the torture chamber under the ruins of the castle formerly
belonging to Zhorun the Necromancer, Lyral's bitter sobs of frustration were
occasionally interrupted by Kayleen's screams of harrowing pain. The strong,
slender body of the blonde warrior had been horribly constricted inside a
spiked iron cage, and the dull spikes dug painfully in her severely scorched
flesh, compounding the pain from her bent limbs with stabs of sheer agony when
a deep breath or the shivers from a massive dousing with cold water pressed
her ribs against the dull spikes.
The reason of Lyral's frustration was the devious predicament they had been
left in to prevent her from healing her friend, whose cage was suspended with
a chain from the ceiling while she was herself suspended by an iron waist
band, facing up with her wrists fastened to her ankles in a severe hogtie.
Both girls spun around the chains they hung from, unable to touch but for a
fleeting brush of the faces when their rotation brought them in line, and
Lyral could not heal Kayleen unless she found a way to touch her friend.
Lyral found herself forced to spend some of her power to shed some light,
because her attempts to reach her friend kept failing. After much frustration,
she realized that at best, when their heads faced, they were a few inches
apart. When she tried to bridge the distance by contracting and distending in
her restraints, she realized the deviousness of her captors, as her jerk
rocked Kayleen's cage, spinning it out of reach and wrenching a scream of
bitter torment from her poor friend as the spikes raked her scorched flesh.
Spurred by the anxiety over her friend's ultimate health, especially as the
blood losses from the cords had been compounded by the repeated ravaging with
the barbed wedges, Lyral continued her attempts until she lost track of their
number, but only managed to spend most of her power in stopping the bleeding
and causing her friend's severe burns to recede. She could do nothing for her
limbs, painfully twisted into torturous positions, or the spikes.
No longer restored to full health, Kayleen hung in misery in her cage, her
intermittent moans sometimes rising as screams and sometimes subsiding into
bitter sobs, lost in her personal hell of pain and trauma, but still able to
whisper, "Lyral, enough. Heal yourself, I'll need your help again soon."
"Kayleen, they almost killed you today! The tortures get harsher each day, and
now all three of them have taken to ... raping ... you. Please, let me heal
you some more," said Lyral, her voice trembling.
"I know, Lyral. Even in the depths of hellish torment, the thought of your
touch delivering me from the agonies and atrocities they heap upon me is a
beacon which helps me defy them, and I'll never be able to repay you for it.
But we must face reality, and tonight I'll have to do with less, just like in
the first days of my captivity. Besides, I think their efforts show that
they're running in circles, and if I am really delaying Zhorun's onslaught, I
am ready to take on their worst."
The rage Kayleen's words fanned in the silently listening former wizard was
such that Lyral almost sensed it, but failing to recognize it framed the
sensation as her own imagination's vivid recreation of how the wizard would
welcome her friend's brave words. After the words she had just heard, she was
not ready to tell her friend that she feared the reason behind her mounting
agonies was that Zhorun increasingly craved them.
"Besides, if my condition forced them to exercise more restraint, I would
welcome the change," said Kayleen, musing aloud, sobbing softly, "They would
have to let me recover. Even remove these cuffs, maybe. This gag. Or no more
fire," Lyral tried to stifle her sobs as she heard her friend mutter, "No more
rapes, no more tortures ... there,"
Suddenly, Kayleen's voice rose in a shriek of dread and dismay, whose reason
became obvious to Lyral when the light of a torch shone upon the implements
lined along the walls of the torture chamber. A new day of torment started.
The Southerner lowered Kayleen to the floor, humming softly, removed the
sections of the iron cage which he had pressed against her nether regions the
evening before and scratched the rosette of her anus with his finger, smiling
when she cried in dismay and from the bite of the spikes. Then he pulled out
his member from under his white robe, sheathed it in leather and thrust it
inside her ass, grabbing the iron cage with both hands while a scream rose
again from her sore mouth.
Meanwhile, Grod had cuffed Lyral's ankles, wrists and elbows together, taking
her under a chain from the ceiling which he fastened to her wrists. He pulled
her up, twisting her arms in her shoulders until she started screaming as her
feet rose a few inches above the floor. While she had followed the beginning
of her friend's violation with dread, her own pain now overwhelmed her.
The old Southerner kept up his violation of Kayleen's bowels while she trashed
and screamed in the grip of the spiked cage, already bleeding where the
spikes, however dull, had pierced the skin. Once spent, he started removing
the sections of the cage, chuckling when she cried as her bent limbs were shot
through by horrible cramps after being freed from the positions they had been
forced into for hours. He summarily cuffed her ankles and wrists together,
then dragged her to face what he had actually planned for her.
She recognized the thick pole and the four sturdy beams at the base instantly,
but her eyes grew wide with fear at the conical shape on top, which looked
thicker and longer than she remembered, and whose wooden surface had been
thoroughly hacked and dented. She immediately tried to oppose her impending
ordeal, but the old man had tightened her collar, and she found herself unable
to breathe. With Grod's help, she was lifted on top of the device until her
anus rested on the tip of the cone and her ankle cuffs were fastened to the
ends of a steel bar through whose central eyelet the wooden pole rose, an
arrangement intended to deprive her feet from finding any rest once the slabs
under her feet were removed.
After allowing her to breathe normally again, the Southerner unveiled his
tools for the day, drawing a gasp from the girl as he unfurled a collection of
graters and rasps, sculpted from ivory and inlaid with shark teeth, imitations
of the worker's tool intended to shred flesh instead of shaping wood. The old
man cuffed Kayleen's wrists behind her neck, pulling back her arms with a
chain connected to a tight iron waistband, and tightly wound a barbed cord
around the base of her breasts.
With an evil smile, he fetched a rasp, lifted her a bit by her neck and pushed
it up her raped anus, holding still while she screamed in agony as the tiny
teeth scraped her muscle rim and the lower tract of her bowels. He kept
scraping until he saw the sphincter torn and bleeding. He then knelt and
removed some slabs from under her feet, leaving them flailing a few inches
from the platform and forcing her entire weight on the tip of the cone.
Devastating waves of pain rose from her sphincter as its rasped circumference
was ripped wider by the tip of the cone, which would have been probably too
wide on its own, and she screamed at the top of her lungs when he dragged a
grater along the inside of her thigh, forcing her to spread them and sink
another inch down the hellish wooden implement.
He removed another pair of slabs from under her feet, then watched as her
weight recommenced pulling her down the cone, rekindling her screams as her
scraped sphincter was being ripped a bit wider again. He neared and dragged a
grater down the inside of her left calf, wrenching a howl of bitter agony from
her as the blood oozed from the lacerated skin while her limb stiffened and
then twitched in the vain attempt to escape the myriad of tiny teeth, and in
so doing allowed the cone to slid a fraction of inch deeper.
He then scraped the rear of her right thigh, dragging the bloody tool up and
down while she tried to turn around, screaming in staggered fits of hoarse
torment while screwing herself deeper and deeper onto the wooden cone. After
leaving her screams subside, he rubbed the grater behind her left leg, forcing
her to turn back in the opposite direction in a frenzy of screams and slide a
bit more down the cone again.
She screamed in horror and dread when he removed another pair of slabs, her
limbs trembling in agony as her weight was no longer enough to pull her
further down the width of the cone, but still more than enough to tear
relentlessly at her savaged sphincter, leaving her twitching on the hellish
cone and crying in unrelenting pain. But her screams rose into howls when he
exchanged the grater for a brush bristling with tiny fishbones, which he
rubbed on her lacerated skin, alternately rasping her left and right limb raw
to force her to screw herself down the cone another few inches.
Hanging in unrelenting torment, Lyral saw through teary eyes her friend buckle
on the frightening girth of the hacked cone, the bowels torn by the forced
screwing and with blood oozing from swaths of wounded flesh. Unless the wounds
were shallower than they looked, her friend would bleed to death before her
eyes, she thought, and she would remain the only one they could torture to
extract what they wanted to know about Shandra.
As if Kayleen's suffering was not complete, the Southerner knelt and savagely
rasped the soles of her feet raw while she howled in mad pain, so that when
she finally slid down enough to rest the balls of her feet on the wood again,
the spikes on the foot rests compounded her agony.
He kept removing slabs and forcing her down the cone until half a foot of wood
had penetrated her rectum, bulging under her flesh and forcing her to bend at
the waist slightly to stem the agony in her bowels. Her body was covered in
perspiration and her lacerated limbs burned from the salt in her sweat. With a
smile, he reached for her cunt lips and started scraping them with the ivory
grater while she resumed howling in desperate agony.
Holding on the soft flesh with one hand, he slowly rubbed the grater up and
down, pulling on the way up so that she involuntarily tried to rise, scraping
her bowels against the hacked surface of the cone and setting herself up to
being ripped open a bit wider once he let her fall back. Blood started flowing
in lazy rivulets down her legs, joining what dripped from her rectum while
howls of insane agony shook her trembling chest.
Her twitches became spasmodic jerks when he started scraping the inside of her
vagina, effectively raping her with the ivory rasp and later with the fishbone
brush, allowing her to sip from the jug now and then for brief instants of
sputtering respite before renewing her agonies, still devilishly managing to
force her down the cone after removing slabs from under her bleeding feet. In
spite of the pain, she noticed that the mixture he had fed her tasted somewhat
different, and its effects were apparently more pronounced.
He placed a leather cloth on the cone, for protection against the slivers on
its dented surface, and wrapped his member in leather while she shook her head
in wailing agony. He thrust it up her vagina with a laugh, with enough force
to lift her up a bit as she screamed in dismay and torment, then savored her
twitching as she slid back down, repeating her violation while tightening and
releasing her collar so that her vagina clutched involuntarily the instrument
of her ravishment while she fought for air in sheer pain.
Still moaning from the pain in her shoulders, Lyral nevertheless watched as
her friend was abjectly violated again, wishing she could hide the horror the
act wrought on her as she was well aware that it was the reason even the two
torturers who had not indulged in the act before had changed their mind. Yet,
she winced at each harrowing scream, shaking her head while watching with
bulging eyes as her friend convulsed in agony on the pole.
The respite Kayleen got when the old Southerner withdrew at last was very
little, because the cone had ripped her sphincter beyond repair and splinters
from the hacked and dented surface of the cone had pierced and mangled her
bowels without mercy, so she just shook on top of the cone in harsh sobs and
bitter screams, unable to find a rest for her bleeding soles, while her
panting tormentor composed himself.
He grabbed a fold of flesh from her muscular abdomen and rubbed it slowly with
the ivory grater, drawing tiny rivulets of blood and a sobbing scream which
turned into a howl when he kept rubbing, switching to the brush while her
voice rose and waned in unbridled agony. He circled behind her and grabbed a
fold of her buttock flesh, soft yet firm, and slowly scraped it, dragging the
grater while his eyes inspected the lacerations and his hand moved to increase
her agony by rubbing the brush across the initial scratch while she howled
fitfully and convulsed spasmodically on the cone, her eyes clenched shut and
her breath short and rasping between the screams.
Lazily, he kept scraping her buttocks until her howls waned to pitiful
wheezes, protracting her torment until she literally started foaming at the
mouth, lost in a world of unending torment from which the occasional sip from
the jug only distracted her temporarily. But her voice found new wind whenever
he used the brush, which was if possible more painful while causing less
damage, raking the lacerated skin without actually tearing it while her mouth
gasped wide open in protracted howls of unbridled torment.
Although screaming occasionally from the pain in her shoulders, Lyral was
still intently following her friend's ordeal, worried sick about her blood
loss as the thought of remaining the sole victim of those three monsters had
taken hold of her imagination and she started comparing her present torment,
which bordered on the unbearable, to the agonies her friend had been through.
After letting Kayleen sip from the jug again, the Southerner recovered the
ivory grater and moved to her muscular back, scraping gashes of white hot
torment under her shoulder blades and compounding the torment with the brush,
alternating the hellish instruments while she convulsed madly and shook her
head almost to the point of breaking her own neck from the harrowing pain.
Indulging in one of his favorite torments, he pulled her up by a curl of her
pubic hair and started scraping her mons raw with the grater, still twisting
her left and right to let the slivers and splinters from the cone rake her
distended bowels, but putting his best efforts into ripping swaths of blonde
pubic hair by sawing back and forth with the bloody grater while her wretched
howls echoed under the vaults of the torture chamber.
Her torment got, if possible, worse when he targeted her ribcage, as he put an
unexpected amount of force in scraping the very flesh from the bone, knowing
how painful the points would be when scraped against the ribs. She howled in
mad agony while sputtering and choking on foam at her mouth, shaking from the
unspeakable pain while his scraping ripped the flesh from her ribs, shriveling
under a pain which surpassed even the unrelenting agonies of the cone.
Lyral started praying softly when she saw white bone in her friend's wounds,
engrossed in the agonies she was facing almost to the point of forgetting her
own, except when searing pain shot through her shoulder joints and everything
on her mind went blank until she stopped trembling and screaming. Silent and
motionless, Zhorun stood by her suffering friend as if not to miss anything.
When the Southerner's hand grabbed Kayleen's breast, she found the voice for a
wail of dread and despair which betrayed how little of the proud Warrior Queen
had survived the unrelenting torments being heaped upon her. Blood oozed from
her engorged breast flesh when the tiny teeth of the ivory grater lacerated
the distended skin, and the echoes of her howl of raw agony persisted long
enough to be joined by the screams which followed as he mauled the taut flesh
of her breasts with savage abandon, delighting in the unrelenting screams and
spasmodic convulsions which sent droplets of blood all over his white robe.
He kept scraping her breasts, splashing her occasionally with cold water,
until he was sure that only the nipples had escaped the agonizing kiss of the
grater, then abandoned it in favor of a new device, a pair of pliers whose
elongated jaws consisted of narrow ivory graters. With a chuckle he pinched
her left nipple and tightened the jaws on it, dragging them forcefully while
blood spurted from the scraped piece of feminine flesh and a howl of
unparalleled agony rose from between the legs of the gag distending her mouth.
He slowly protracted the scraping of her nipples, pausing maybe once in a
dozen times to let her sip from the jug, savoring her howls of desperate agony
and the sight of her tear streaked visage shaken by tremors and drooling at
the corners of the mouth. Instead of scraping her nipples to shreds, however,
he switched to the fishbone brush, which he used to scratch the rasped flesh
repeatedly while she convulsed in howling torment under his hands.
Still not sated, he then grabbed her clitoris in the pliers and started
scraping the tiny bud of feminine flesh raw, relishing the inarticulate howls
of unspeakable agony issuing from her distended mouth a few inches from his
leering grin, his arousal mounting when her bleeding nipples heaved at every
scream and quivered brushing against his chest.
Lyral watched in horror the ghastly mauling of the piece of feminine flesh her
friend rued before any other, remembering how for a moment in the morning the
fear, horror and grief of the young woman had been revealed, praying that
something, anything, stopped her friend's torment. She kept praying while her
friend's screams continued, refusing to believe that her prayers would go
unanswered even as her friend's agony continued on and on.
Finally, with a growl, the aroused Southerner drove his member up Kayleen's
vagina again, thrusting viciously in a frenzied rut which wrenched new screams
from her as his leather sheathed member tore into her scraped passage,
reopening bleeding wounds and ripping the gashes torn by the grater still
wider. Consumed by lust, he pushed into her in wild abandon, his hands on his
hips pushing her down on the cone after his loins had pushed her down, bent on
savoring the convulsions of her body in his arms and the twitching of her
scraped nipples as, scream after scream, they stroke his chest.
The Easterner stepped in, and with help from Grod they grabbed her, the cone,
and the entire contraption, and slowly tilted her, not without screams and
convulsions as new waves of pain wracked her body, until she lied on her right
side with the cone still deeply penetrating her bowels. They let her sip from
the jug in quantity, then proceeded to seep warm, light oil inside her rectum
in order to remove the cone without ripping her entrails off, although she
suffered horribly and they had to stem her bleeding repeatedly.
Lyral watched the treatment with ambivalence, at the same time glad that her
friend would not bleed to death, as the paste was apparently quite effective,
and chilled to the bone at their readiness to risk lethal injuries to increase
the level of torment. They probably counted on her healing power to bail them
out in case things got out of hand, and she had to admit that she would never
let her friend die before her eyes, even if this played in their hands.
Now it was the Easterner's turn, and he cuffed Kayleen's ankles together
before dragging her moaning form to an ominous device, a large waterwheel
whose lower half was under water level. He forced her to kneel and cuffed her
elbows together behind her back, then twisted her arms up and fastened her
wrists to a ring in the wheel. He then cranked the wheel, pulling on her arms
while she cried as her sockets were again torn unmercifully while her back was
pulled on the wheel as it rotated clockwise. Her body jerked with a scream
when the barbs in the wheel raked her lacerated back, and her screams
continued as her body was slowly forced to arch on the waterwheel, fastened to
rings at the wrists, waistband and finally at her ankles.
He kept cranking the wheel until her wrists reached the cold water, at which
she cried in dismayed surprise when her wounded wrists burned under the fierce
bite of the saline water. Her eyes closed shut while her body trembled in
dread at the thought of the torments she would face once the lacerations
covering most of her body were immersed in the salt water. Her tormentor
paused to lock his gaze into hers, shrugging when he found resolve.
As her head went under water before the parts of her body where the skin had
been scraped off, her agony was not apparent at first, but when her raw purple
breasts reached the water the convulsions of her body silently illustrated how
agonies beyond belief were coursing through her slender form, while a few
bubbles rose from the water. Her tormentor kept cranking the wheel, keeping
her under until her head emerged, her gasps for fresh air soon turning into
bitter screams as the saltwater still burned her wounded skin.
He kept cranking until she came full circle and her head disappeared under
water again, but instead of continuing he stopped and disrobed, straddling her
loins, and thrust his leather wrapped member down her scraped love channel as
her body trembled and shook in dismay and pain. He kept thrusting, holding
with his hands as she trembled whenever her breasts slid into the water,
grunting when her vaginal muscles started contracting as she drowned.
Lyral watched in dread the race between the Easterner's arousal and her
friend's asphyxiation, trying to put off from her mind the thought of how the
saltwater was burning her under his ravishing thrusts, and puked when he
finished and some of his semen squirted on her friend's lacerated mons, her
only relief being that the wheel was being cranked back and her friend's
heaving chest testified to her vitality moments before the mouth erupted in a
tormented scream after gasping for air. A flash of pain however ended her
relief as the Southerner had grasped one of her fingers and ripped the nail
off with pliers, without bothering to release her first.
Twitching from the harsh bite of the salt all over her scraped flesh, Kayleen
continued screaming while the Easterner cranked the wheel until she was out of
the water. Without a word, he procured a small steel hook, grabbed a fold of
her lacerated breast flesh and twisted it in between her wounds, ignoring her
anguished screams as droplets of blood spurted and salt seeped in the wound,
crushing any residual expectation of restraint as an entire box of hooks was
revealed and a spiked lead ball was fastened to the hook, causing it to
distend her wounded flesh while she shrieked in deranged pain.
He then resumed his cranking of the wheel, at which the hook revealed its
fiendish purpose as it shifted under the weight of the ball while her position
changed, wrenching cries of pain from her distended form. He did not stop
cranking when her head went under this time, and she was slowly hauled through
a nightmare of burning agony, on the edge of drowning for interminable seconds
until her head cleared the water, sputtering and shaking back and forth while
screams fought with gasps for air in her spasmodically heaving chest.
No sooner had she stopped screaming, that he drove another weighted hook in
the flesh of her other breast, subjecting her to another full circle of the
wheel immediately thereafter. When she emerged, screaming, he used a pair of
pliers to clench a barbed steel wire at the base of her clitoris and each of
her nipples and then pierced them with thin barbed needles, finishing with a
full rotation of the wheel. Always hauling her through a full rotation each
time, he drove three barbed hooks in each nipple and four in her love bud, so
that as she went through the upper half of each her screams became each time
harsher as the weights shifted the hooks, distending her breasts into cones of
burning agony. Underwater, the weights just distended the skin around her
lacerations, making the bite of the salt even harsher.
Lyral screamed again as the Southerner ripped a nail from her fingers at the
slightest pause in her friend's torment, fully aware that her shoulder joints
were burning nodes of white hot agony which was fanned anew by the jerks from
the pain in her mauled fingers.
Still following each with a full rotation of the wheel, the Southerner started
driving more needles in Kayleen's swollen nipples and clitoris, long needles
whose forked tip wrenched howls of agony from her heaving body as he slowly
pushed it through her flesh. Once no more needles could find place on her
bleeding love bud, he started driving barbed hooks through her cunts lips and
stitching them to the inside of her thighs with more needles, dragging her one
step at a time down a staircase of saline agonies while the folds of her flesh
were distended in a flower of pain ready to twitch spasmodically under the
harsh bite of salt water and to be pierced by more needles.
After this protracted torment, he suddenly started removing the needles and
subsequently the hooks, another torment as the barbed tips receded in her
wounded flesh, but something she could not help but hope would prelude to some
respite. But she was made to sip from the jug, and then he cranked the wheel
until her loins reached the right height, then circled around, hurriedly
pulling out his member, and thrust it inside her again, panting slightly but
apparently in haste rather than from arousal, pumping back and forth his
manhood in her bleeding orifice with uncaring viciousness, his eyes coldly
assessing her spasmodic jerks and the trembling of her chest while bubbles
rose to the surface above her submerged head.
When her vaginal muscles clutched his member, a sign of incipient drowning, he
jerked his hips left and right, as if to screw deeper down her scraped womb,
then grabbed the wheel and started lowering his pelvis forcefully, turning the
wheel with his weight while protracting her abject rape until her vagina was
so low that he had to pull out to avoid the barbs on the wheel.
Instead of turning the wheel back, he returned to cranking it, although her
stay underwater was already comparable to what she had endured before, and in
a show of executioner's expertise kept her convulsing and shaking under water
until the very last second, pulling her head above just after her spasmodic
twitches stopped, then quickly turning the wheel until her head was upside
down, at which he was able to push on her chest with his hands to force the
water out of her lungs, bringing her back between coughing screams as the pain
from the relentless bite of the salt assaulted her recouped consciousness.
Lyral gasped in horror as her friend was effectively drowned before her eyes,
her dread so intense that she forgot about the unrelenting pain in her
shoulders for an instant. As with the lacerations all over her friend's body,
the torturers were using ordinarily deadly methods and then rescuing the
victim on the edge of death. And since the bleeding had receded greatly, she
suspected that Zhorun had an hand in improving the means of treating the
victims of the torture chamber, once the sole province of Grod if tales could
be trusted. Necromancers were known to dabble with life, and maybe he had
devised some means to assist his torturers in their grisly work.
Dread and dismay tinged Kayleen's screams as the hooks and needles were again
driven into her quivering flesh, so brimming with salt that she was in
uninterrupted agony from it alone, but somehow managed to produce harsher and
louder screams when the devilish implements penetrated it, each new one
followed by a course through the saline hell and then compounding her agony by
twisting in her flesh for the upper half of each rotation.
After exhausting the pile of needles and hooks removed before her rape, the
Easterner produced a number of thin steel needles which he pushed deeper into
her flesh so that her muscles would bend them while she convulsed in agony and
the tips would twitch inside her delectable feminine flesh, especially her
bleeding nipples and clitoris. It took him many turns of the wheel to get this
part right, adjusting the tips as screams burst from her torn mouth.
Taking care not to wound himself on the points crowded around her nether
regions, he then drove weighted hooks through the scraped rim of her vagina,
distending it with two fingers before driving each hook in, not perpendicular
through the flesh but under its surface, so that the pain would be intensified
as the weight tore it back and forth.
As her torment had shattered any hope of restraint she might harbor, the only
thought in the haze of pain in her mind was to hold on until evening, but her
tormentor was apparently intent on finding a new agony for her feminine flesh
on each turn of the wheel and started folding the lacerated flesh at the base
of her breasts, pinching it with short needles so close to each other that it
was if he was tightening a cord at their base, although they bulged only
slightly as the circulation was not being restricted.
Lyral screamed as her gaze was forced to leave the torments being inflicted on
her friend by a terrible pain in her toe, whose nail had been ripped off by
the smiling Southerner, who now savored the sight of her creamy legs flailing
from the pain and jerking her shoulder joints into white hot bursts of
unspeakable torment. The image of her friend's breasts bulging as their flesh
was being folded by stitching it with needles was obliterated from the swarthy
visage of her tormentor laughing as the pliers chose another toe.
In a new twist of cruelty, the Easterner clenched a weighted clamp on
Kayleen's left nipple, constricting its pierced flesh between its jaws as her
voice exploded in a howl of demented agony which rose and waned for the entire
upper half of the subsequent rotation, as the weights and her convulsions
shifted the needles under the grip of the clamp. The same fate was visited on
her other nipple and clitoris, and then more thin, long needles were driven
through the distended folds of her cunt lips while she howled in desperate
pain while undergoing another hauling through the saline hell below.
On the next rotation, her head rose from under water while she fought for air
just in time to see him raise a ladle, apparently some hot liquid because of a
wisp of smoke. When the wheel brought her breasts up, he trickled scalding hot
water on them, wrenching new agonies from her as her body convulsed
spasmodically under a fitful frenzy of tormented howls while all the needles
and hooks tore simultaneously her salt encrusted flesh. The next rotations of
the wheel dragged her through a hell of scalding torment before plunging in
the cold depths of saline agony, as the trickle of hot water seared her chest
and crotch, lingering atrociously on the nipples and the clitoris.
Then she sensed that something was different and a strangled cry of dismay
escaped from her lips as her head sunk underwater, and her hunch proved
correct as her tormentor stopped cranking and reached her parted thighs,
driving his thickly sheathed manhood in her vagina again, crushing hooks and
needles with silent force while her body stiffened and then jerked in
unbridled agony. With endurance devoid of lust, he protracted the torment of
her bleeding and pierced flesh, pushing rhythmically while turning the wheel
with his weight and twisting his pelvis now and then, raking the implements
driven in her flesh through her twitching flesh while her lungs fought for air
between blazing waves of unbearable pain.
The contraction of her vaginal muscles as she was taken on the edge of
drowning added another drop to the waves of her agony, fanning the torment
caused by the steel implements piercing her mauled flesh to new heights of
spasmodic twitching as her voice bubbled underwater wasting her precious last
gasps of air. Her bloody rape was kept up until she stiffened after a few
prodigious jerks and then fell limp, and only then was the wheel turned back,
bringing her head above water so that his hands could forcefully revive her by
expelling water and blood from her lungs while screams of sheer agony framed
her pitiful gasps and coughs.
Lyral wept bitterly as her friend was raped to death, hysterically trying to
find a way to convince their torturers that she was not afraid of rape so that
they would stop violating her friend so abjectly. Her friend being then
revived brought her little comfort, both because she knew that more tortures
would follow, but also because the Southerner ripper her last toenail,
returning her attention to her own agonies in a blast of unbearable pain.
Kayleen screamed occasionally while the implements piercing her lacerated
flesh were removed and her wounds treated, her soft sobs a quiet testimony to
how much she had been through. Then she was removed from the device, crying as
Grod tightened the collar on her windpipe before dragging her to another, a
contraption of steel bars and screws whose purpose escaped her. He fastened
her cuffed wrists to the end of a thick bar which also held her elbow cuffs
and ended in a wedge shaped cross bar nudged under her shoulders, then pulled
her up and fastened her waist band to a second bar, which supported both the
bar holding her arms and another to which he fastened her ankles after
doubling her legs at the knee, which also ended in a wedge-shaped crossbar
nudged behind her knees.
When he was done, she found herself hogtied to the device in mid air, and
although strenuously constricted, subjected only to a discomfort which in no
way compared to what she had withstood so far. She was offered the jug, then
he started to turn the screw on the bar holding her arms, and dread shot
through her as her arms were pulled back, straining her sockets and wrenching
a new howl of torment as blazes of pain rose from her shoulder joints.
Her howls rose in pitch when he turned the screw on the bar holding her legs
and the pain from her hip joints compounded the agony from her shoulders, her
bitter tears mingling with the salt still harshly biting in her wounds while
she writhed in uninterrupted pain. The torments Grod managed to apply on bone
and muscle often caused pain without requiring further intervention. Like with
the ointment he was smearing on her limbs, the one which caused cramps in
muscles and would soon wreck her arms and legs with spasmodic cramps while her
joints burned in ever increasing woe.
Meanwhile, Lyral watched in dread as the Easterner was adjusting some screws
in a bronze and copper contraption sculpted into the likelihood of a cat, with
elaborated front claws which he adjusted so that they matched her nipples. As
her friend's torment was not readily understandable from her position, her
imagination trembled before the bronze implement, just as her hanging body
quivered when it was fastened to her and the claws rubbed her nipples.
Kayleen's tormentor fetched a pair of iron pliers and seized her thumb, then
with cruel slowness started ripping her nail off, causing her voice to rise in
a shriek of torment and the muscles of her arms to strain in the vain attempt
to free her hands from the abject torment. After some time, he did the same
with her other hand, and at the fourth nail her arms were already trembling
with savage cramps which wracked her even as he elongated the bar some more
and started ripping her left toenail off.
How long she twitched in agony while he ripped off her nails and elongated the
bars while cramps shot through her limbs, she could not tell, but as he ripped
her last nail and the pain from the cramps was now beyond description, he let
her sip from the jug and then slowly elongated the bars again, bringing her
joints on the verge of dislocation.
The bars allowed precise control of the distance, and now kept her stretched
on the fine line of dislocation, so that each jerk resulted in temporarily
pulling a limb a fraction of an inch out of its socket, causing a blast of
absolute torment which wrenched a howl of mad agony from her sore throat, only
to see it bounce back into place from the pull of muscles and ligaments as the
restraints disallowed any movement which would otherwise misalign the limb.
Lyral could not understand the nature of her friend's torment, although she
could guess that her limbs were being stretched, but when the Easterner placed
little nuggets of white hot iron in the bronze cat, trembled in anticipation
of the scorching agony of heat, and was thus surprised when the claws of the
device pinched her nipples, barely at first but slowly sinking deeper while
she cried from the mounting pain and trembled as they were getting warm, and
when the heat rose she screamed in terror.
Kayleen meanwhile was essentially repeatedly dislocating her own limbs on each
jerk, and the burn of the salt in the lacerations scattered over her body
caused her to jerk aplenty, so she kept convulsing in fits of woe as the
torments of dislocation repeatedly wracked her panting form, drawing pitched
howls of harrowing pain from her torn mouth.
Grod let the torment run its course until exhaustion slowly quelled her
pain-wracked jerks, reducing them to spasmodic twitches and then to trembling
agony under the incessant assault of the savage cramps induced in her limbs by
the ointment. While her raucous screams subsided, he grabbed her by her sweat
soaked blonde hair and thrust his member deep in her throat, sending a shiver
in her tired body and pushing violently, causing her to jerk in response and
scream all her desperate agony onto his bulging member.
His rhythmic pumping of her sore mouth was by itself enough to tear repeatedly
her shoulder joints into dislocating briefly, and the flares of agony each
such occurrence entailed wracked her restrained body into further spasms of
unbridled torment which occasionally caused the same to occur in her hip
joints, which resulted in her limbs trembling uncontrollable while white hot
pain coursed through her restrained form,
He pulled out, leaving her cough and gag in misery, slowly sliding into
exhaustion again after being forced to suffer through multiple dislocations
again. He fetched a pair of knobbed wooden planks and encased her elbows in
between, and a cry of despair surged from her mouth when she saw him pick up a
wooden wedge and a mallet as the memory of the suffering wrought by the planks
slowly crushing her bones flashed through her mind.
As the wedge was driven between the planks, the knobs dug in her elbows and a
scream of agony surged from her mouth as the pain forced her to move, causing
her shoulder joints to flash the unbearable pain of dislocation through her
body yet again. A couple of screams later, as exhaustion quelled her spasms,
her head dropped in misery and then jerked in a howl of torment as another
wedge was pushed between her elbows and she was again brought to face the
agony of having her shoulders repeatedly wrenched into and out of dislocation.
He let her sip from the jug, scanning her eyes in search of defeat, and for an
instant she wondered what would happen if she surrendered. Then her gaze fell
on her breasts, where the skin had all but been scraped off, leaving the
purple flesh bleeding from dozens of lacerations which had been raked by the
hooks and pierced by the needles. Her nipples hung in tatters, scraped to
perhaps half their girth and shredded where the hooks had ripped clear, and
she found her answer. She would not turn Shandra over to them.
He encased her wrists between knobbed planks and then used the mallet to drive
wedges between, watching her hands clench and distend in torment as the knobs
started crushing her wrists and her body convulsed in howling pain as she had
jerked her shoulder joints out of their sockets. This always resulted in a
streak of twitches and screams, until even agony no longer managed to force
her pain-wracked muscles to contract again.
Lyral remembered how, healing her friend after the torment of the wedges, she
had felt the agony of the cracked bones, not quite broken but fiendishly close
to, and how they had wracked her friend into hells of unbearable pain. Even as
the Easterner was heating another set of iron nuggets to renew the torment of
her nipples, she could not help herself but weep bitterly at the thought of
what her friend was being subjected to in order to make her talk.
To extend the torment to Kayleen's limbs, Grod snug two planks between her
lower legs, both knobbed sides facing the flesh, using the mallet to drive
them home and causing her to resume her convulsing jerks as the knobs dug into
the lacerations left by the grater. She screamed in merciless pain as this
caused her hip joints to teeter repeatedly on the verge of dislocation. He bid
his time, always pausing to let her come near exhaustion before proceeding,
but he finally managed to encase her slender limbs in the wooden planks.
He drove the first wedge between the planks, separating them slightly and
putting pressure on the bones on both sides but also grinding the wooden knobs
into her lacerated flesh, causing immediate and excruciating pain which
resulted in a frenzy of screams and convulsions lasting much longer than
before, so long that foam started dribbling off the corner of her mouth.
Once her throes subsided, he drove a wedge through the planks crushing her
elbows, fanning their pressure anew and causing another desperate howl to
herald a series of screams of mad pain, mostly due to the repeated torment of
her shoulder joints but now also carrying the pain from her elbows, not quite
crushed but constricted fiercely enough that each movement jarred them
painfully. Since the device did not allow easy access to her knees, he had
opted for crushing the long bones of her limbs, and a few wedges between the
planks increased the pain therein enough to drive her into repeatedly wracking
her hip joints near dislocation again.
As the metallic claws tore through her nipples again Lyral convulsed in sheer
agony, because her fatigued shoulder joints blasted in white hot pain whenever
her movements jarred them. She had been praying under her breath for her
friend, hoping that whatever restraint she would be put once today's torment
ended would allow her to recover her healing power, because her friend, even
if apparently no longer facing imminent death, had undergone one of the most
harsh sessions she had witnessed and was probably in dire need of the respite
and recovery her healing would bring.
As it was often the case, Grod's torments often progressed from painful to
excruciating without ever diminishing the pain inflicted, and in this case the
planks compounded rather than replaced the fiendish dislocation of Kayleen's
joints and their grip on the bones never dwindled, increasing instead with
each wedge and alternating between the throbbing pain of savage compression
and the flashes of agony from the knobs digging into the wounded flesh.
He brought the jug to her lips, helping her to its contents as she sputtered
and gurgled, then pulled out his member and pushed it up her throat, grabbing
her by her blonde hair and thrusting back and forth while her face contorted
into a mask of rage and torment. Her muffled screams crowded in her throat as
his thrusts wracked her into more jerks of self inflicted torment, but unlike
the Southerner he did not seem consumed by lust after his victim, which to
some extent was for the worse as this caused her humiliation to last longer.
At last he pulled out, leaving her cough between screams of dismay and anguish
as her shoulder and hip joints were jerked again into and out of dislocation
as a consequence of her spasmodic convulsions. While she was on the way to
exhausting herself again, he splashed her repeatedly with cold saltwater,
rekindling a torment which had slowly receded, so that pain burned all over
her body again and another frenzy of howling agony was set in motion.
The harsh sting of the salt made itself felt especially in her legs, and the
pain of repeated dislocation of her hip joints coursed through her restrained
body like a wave of blazing agony, wracking her chest under the shuddering
impact of bellowing howls, sometimes to the point of causing her shoulder
joints to undergo the same fate. She had been screaming uninterruptedly for
most of the day, any semblance of her former defiance shattered by the ever
present gag and probably not on par with what she was undergoing anyway.
He trapped the fingers of her left hand between the jaws of a pair of
thumbscrews, and waited until she almost stopped trembling before tightening
them, so that the pain rose through her arm and caused it to jerk, at which
her whole torso stiffened and then shook in a howl of abject suffering as her
shoulder joint had been wracked into and out of dislocation. The same happened
to her other shoulder as a consequence of her convulsions, and her torment
continued between raucous screams until her exhausted muscles lost their
capacity to react, although not the capacity to endanger more cramps.
Lyral watched, as their torturers intended, but instead of being pushed to
talk she was focusing on praying for her friend, as her knowledge of Zhorun's
nature allowed her no illusions as to their fate. Apparently evil was often
its own undoing, because Zhorun would have obtained by now all he could need
about Shandra by putting her through a fraction of the torments wrought on her
friend, but his urge to wallow in her friend's agony had blinded him.
Once Kayleen's twitching dwindled, Grod put on her restrained feet a device he
had used only rarely, a heavy iron boot which could be cranked to crush the
foot, a task for which he favored ordinary vices or planks and wedges. She was
by now in constant agony from the planks crushing her joints and bones,
although none had been broken or even cracked yet, but when he tightened the
boot and its ridges and knobs gripped her foot and started cracking the
delicate bones, her agonies reached a peak she would have discounted as
impossible, causing her to convulse in mad torment, rattling the hogtie rack
as fierce howls shook her chest and her face contorted in sheer agony.
Another boot was placed on her other foot after letting her sip from the jug
again, but he bid his time before crushing it to let the drug take effect.
Once he tightened the boot, however, her howls rose as high as before and her
convulsions proved if possible even more spasmodic, and took longer to settle
while her repeated screams remained strong for an horribly long time.
"Is this enough, or do you mean to tax my patience any longer ?" asked all of
a sudden the robed corpse who had attended silently so far.
"Rot ... in ... hell", stammered Kayleen's voice between screams.
"Grod, while your technique is of commendable ingenuity, her defiance is not
being punished adequately. Would she stand the hot irons ?"
"Yes, at least if lightly applied," replied Grod, surprised, while a strangled
scream of unspeakable dread shook Kayleen's chest.
"Proceed with the hot irons, then, and be merciless", whispered the corpse.
Lyral's eyes bulged in horror as her musings found their dreadful confirmation
and frantically tried to find something she could say to stop them, but no
words rose to her mouth as warm tears descended her cheek. Her friend had not
been aware of Zhorun's nature, and probably not even the wizard was, as this
was part of the lore she had been taught and was probably the result of what
had been learned before the undead were defeated. Her plan to withstand the
torture to buy time was probably based on what human torturers would be
limited to, but Zhorun's direct involvement would probably increase.
Grod left his victim writhing between dwindling screams of desperate agony, as
he had not envisioned the use of hot irons and he would have to heat them now,
but Kayleen's respite was short lived. When her throes subsided, Zhorun
gestured to the Southerner, who smiled evilly, bowed and moved before
Kayleen's face. He pulled out his member and thrust it down her throat,
muffling her cry of disgust and pain and immediately pushing back and forth
with all his force to savor her screams of enraged pain and force her tongue
to massage his aroused manhood while pain wracked her joints again.
Once the old man's semen filled her mouth, he pulled out, and left her to
convulse and scream herself to exhaustion. While her jerks subsided, the
corpse which had been a powerful necromancer raised his fingers in the subtle
gestures of a spell and thin tendrils of blue lightning streaked through the
room, playing on Kayleen's restrained body as if caressing it but causing
unbelievable jerks and twitches as her voice bellowed in unspeakable agony
from the multiple pains coursing through her tormented body.
After an instant which carried an eternity of torments the lightning
disappeared, leaving its victim convulsing spasmodically in her bonds and
screaming hysterically as the prodigious jerks caused by the lightning rattled
the rack and her limbs shook and trembled incessantly.
Zhorun did not use his magic again, and Grod neared with a brazier of fiery
coals and a red hot poker, which he dragged along her left leg, wrenching a
trembling scream of desperate agony from her torn mouth as the residuals of
water and sweat sizzled and her lacerated flesh was scorched raw.
As with anything which caused her to move, although not the degree caused by
Zhorun's tendrils of lightning, the hot iron engendered a streak of harsh
convulsions and harrowing screams as her joints teetered into and out of
dislocation, so he paused after application to let it run its full course.
He then rubbed the hot iron on her taut belly, pausing as this pushed her into
throes of jerking agony again. Almost lazily, the hot iron was dragged on her
arms and legs, as the movements induced in the limbs more readily resulted in
the torment of her joints, as testified by her harrowing screams.
As exhaustion was taking hold of her he forced her to sip from the jug before
rubbing the hot iron on her breasts, scorching the scraped flesh unmercifully
while her howls of demented agony wracked her chest and rattled her restraints
as she experienced depths of pain beyond her worst nightmares.
"Is this enough, or do you mean to tax my patience any longer ?" whispered the
robed corpse, using the same exact words he had used before.
Kayleen was no longer able to express a defiant response, her gagged mouth
foaming and bleeding pitifully as she was shaking and screaming hoarsely from
the unspeakable agonies wrought on her, but managed to shake her head. Upon a
gesture from Zhorun, Grod rubbed the hot iron between her cunt lips, managing
to wrench a new scream of horrifying torment from a mouth which apparently was
now beyond its last screams.
Unmercifully as requested, he heated the iron again and pushed it deep inside
her vagina, pausing while she convulsed in mad agony before pushing it in
again. After a while he pushed its dull point into her scraped clitoris,
twisting it in the rip torn by a hook while she bellowed in abysmal pain. Once
her howls showed sign of waning, he rubbed first one nipple and then the other
with the scorching iron, careful not to linger too long as the shredded flesh
could stick to the iron since he was not using grease this time.
As her convulsions were now uninterrupted and hard to assess, he just took to
waiting a bit before dragging the iron on each target, his gaze on the
motionless robed figure, dragging her through deeper and deeper hells of
searing agony until Zhorun gestured that it was enough.
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