Rescue!

The time between your feeding is utterly interminable. Your burning cunt and aching breasts keep you awake and constantly aroused, but though you thrust them forward in an instinctive desire to be touched, your binding keep you incapable of reaching any relief. You taught them well. Goody. No matter how much you struggle you can’t find any way to lessen your burden of arousal. Your arms are tied behind you, connected to ropes around your ankle and finally wrapped around a pair of steel rings bolted to the stone behind you. You’re flexible, so the position is hardly painful, but with your arms stretched back, your knees spread apart, baring your front to any who might walk by, you cannot ‘do’ anything. Your blindfold only makes your need more acute as you have nothing more to focus on than your sensitive flesh, tingling in the coolness of the cavern and the fiery tingle of your wound from the whip. At the edge of your awareness comes the constant lap of the underground pool whose rise you are tied to. Its small waves breaking against the high rim are all that serves for the passing of time aside from your irregular feedings and bouts of torment.

You’ve become so engrossed in the mindless lap of the water that it takes some time to discern a new noise. You listen intently. The clash of arms perhaps. How long has it been going on? But it could be your imagination. It wouldn’t be the first time. Being so alone you sometimes hear things. Voices. Songs.
You try to lean forward but your bindings prevent it. You strain to hear. Yes…Yes that does sound like battle. Its vague and echoing, the acoustics of the tunnels distorting it so you only get a constant thrum of shouts, arcane explosions and steel on steel. You wonder how far away it is. Who is fighting? You groan in frustration of a new kind.

It goes on for what feels like hours. Gradually, the clamour fades, and you are alone once more, but you are also extremely awake. You stretch your senses to the utter limits for some answer to the change in routine.

At first there is nothing. Then, cautiously, the sound of heavy footsteps walking on naked stone. Someone is coming, and not one of your tormentors. Your hearing is naturally acute, but denied your sight for so long you can hear the spiders crawling down the walls. Such allows you to discern the faint clink of steel and the slap of a scabbard against a thigh, the heavy breathing of one not of your sultry race, and a telltale creak of leathers.

Warmth invades the space with the crackle of the torch, banishing the cold which torments your naked flesh. “Found another!” a voice hollers.

“She’s bound. She’s not with the others.”

“Gods graces! Look what they’ve done to her! Here.”

Strong hands smelling of copper undo your blindfold. It falls away and you loose a cry at the blinding glow of fire, turning your head away sharply and shutting tight your streaming eyes.

“Idiot! Look what you’ve done!”

You blink away your tears as your rescuers argue and slowly turn your head back towards the speakers. Your eyes, but another unnatural by product of your sordid past, slowly adjust to the frightful glow. Two smudged black shapes resolve themselves before you, and after a moment more definite images become clear.