How To break an Elf

Pythia no longer knew how long she had been here. Without the eternal dance of the sun and the moon, time had quickly started to blur together. She had no way to differentiate night and day. She didn’t even have the chance to mark her cell, for she was moved often. Each cell was identical to the last.

Admetus was keeping her off-balance. This she knew, though that knowledge did not help her much in countering it. The demilich did not know exactly how her magic worked, but by now he’d guessed that she lacked a focus. He was keeping her disoriented, robbing her of the certainty from which she drew her confidence.

Every day she was tested. Pushed to her limit. She was made to squirm and squeal, her own body turned against her in ways both nefarious and pleasurable. Admetus approached the process of turning her into a **** in the same way a wizard might approach the process of designing a new spell. Constant tinkering and refinement. Test after test where she would be left dripping, her legs sprawled and her arms chained above her head. And each new test pushed her further than the last.

A lesser woman would have broken. She would have succumbed to the pleasure, her mind melting away in the face of Admetus’ sensual assaults. She would have done anything to experience it again. Surrendered herself, gladly born the weight of the collar if only to feel the exquisite release that Admetus promised his ****.

But Pythia was not a normal woman. She was strong, determined and stubborn. Even as her own body was turned against her, her mind refused to submit. She fought, holding onto herself with every fibre of her being. Battling Admetus in the only way she had left.

But she knew that her defeat was inevitable. Admetus was a lich. They were by definition patient beyond the capacity of mortals. He would break her in the end. She admitted that during her darker moments. All of her resistance, her stubbornness and her anger could only prolong the fight. Put off the moment of defeat for as long as possible.

The only way to win was to get away.

She still hoped that Herwig was out there somewhere. The bag of holding that she’d found missing when she first woke up was her major hope now. If her familiar had it and managed to return it, then maybe Pythia would find her way out of this situation.

But as time passed, that became less and less likely. Had it been weeks or months? Sometimes it felt like years, though she was sure it had not been that long. Her head was spinning, her moments were spent in exhausted rest or orgasmic torment. There was no real time for her to gather herself, to try and figure out a way to escape.

Slowly, Pythia tried to find focus, to sharpen her mind. It was difficult. She was not sure how long it had been since she’d rested but she would have wagered over twelve hours. Her body was throbbing; the ghostly after-wash of a dozen orgasms still pounded through her. Golden chains were bound around her arms, pulling them upwards in a ‘’Y’’ formation. The chains rattled as she pulled against them, but didn’t give her even an inch of movement.

She was wearing no clothes, of course. Clothes were for people of a higher station than her. As far as Admetus was concerned, the only things she was allowed to wear were things that would increase her desirability. Make her more alluring.

Right now, that was chains. Her arms were chained to the ceiling of her cell. Her chest was bare, her nipples still faintly aching from the new piercings. Golden rings had been **** through them, and another chain anchored to each ring. As a result, her breasts were bound together. The chain further flowed down her body like a tiny rivulet of metal, running down her belly and between her thighs.

There, they had a third anchor. A third point of shame for her. Pythia closed her eyes, remembering the day she’d been called into Admetus’ presence.

The Demilich had greeted her with a cold, imperious voice. It was his habit to speak using telepathy, though Pythia knew that he could speak verbally as well if he wished. It was as though Admetus regarded common language as far beneath him, seeing the use of telepathy as an easy way to telegraph his power and authority.

“Welcome, ****,” he had said to her. “I see that your nipples are healing well. This is good. I would not wish to own a damaged specimen.”

She scowled at him, one arm moving to conceal her chest. It brushed against the golden piercings, triggering a flush of heat across her face.

“You do not own me,” she told him. “You never will.”

“We will see if you are as confident on that score later,” He told her. “Now kneel to me and present your womanhood.”

Pythia had considered refusing. She had considered cursing him or telling him to make her. But the problem was, he could make her. She could already sense several skeletons stirring in the darkness around the chamber. More than enough to **** her to her knees. If she wanted to escape, she had to at least try to make him think that he was succeeding in breaking her.

She glared, matching her blazing eyes against the empty sockets of his skull. The gems glittered, and at the deepest point of his sunken eye-holes, there was the faintest spark of ethereal blue.

Slowly, Pythia knelt on the cold dungeon floor. The stone tiles pressed against her dark skin. Hating herself for it, she spread her legs. Despite her fury, a blush washed over her face as she exposed herself to the demilich. Her pussy felt warm, a faint echo of the pleasure she had already experienced burned through her nerves. A shudder of suppressed desire ran up her spine.

Two skeletons came forward, one on either side. Before she knew what was happening, Pythia had been grabbed and held in place. A third one stepped forward, its bony fingers ran across the swollen mound of her vulva. She closed her eyes, her heart hammering.

“You are weak,” Admetus said. “Mortal. Flesh and blood. Your mind resists me but your body desires nothing more than to be used. To become my toy.”

She fought through the pleasure rising between her legs.

“If that is true, then why do you seek to return to the flesh? If you’re so much better now?”

Admeuts was silent for a moment.

“The flesh is weak,” he said. “Easy to twist. To corrupt with desires and emotions. And yet it has an inarguable pull to it. A fascination. I have become better than I ever was as a wizard. My mind is unshackled from mortal needs. I require not rest nor food nor light. I do not feel loneliness nor do I fear the dark as I once did. Everything weak about me has been cut away.”

“You are a half thing,” Pythia told him, kneeling with her legs spread. “A shadow of a man longing to be more. You seek to recapture what you have lost, but you cannot. You never will.”

“I have attained mastery over myself,” Admetus said. “In doing so, I no longer need fear the weakness of the flesh. I will take it. I will make it my own. I will enjoy what it has to offer, but I will not be beholden to its flaws. When I am intact, my ****, the two of us shall speak as we have not yet done.”

“You mean you’ll have your way with me,” Pythia said the words coldly, humiliation and anger boiling in the back of her mind. “You’ll fuck me.”

“I will enjoy the feeling of your body against mine,” Admetus said. “The pleasure that you will give me is something I have long been denied.”

“You have no body,” Pythia growled. “And you have known no pleasure for hundreds of years. You’re a demilich, not even a real lich. All that you were has rotted away.”

“Foolish girl,” Admetus chided. “I am more than that. An awakened demilich. I am not lesser in any sense. My mind and soul are still my own. And with my mind there comes my mastery of magic. Believe me, I will find a way to restore my flesh. And when I do, the two of us will celebrate. But until then.

Pythia gave a soft moan. The skeleton was rubbing her pussy, its fingers circling her vulva, moving in slow circles which built up her pleasure. It raised tingles across her body, and as her arousal swirled, her clitoris began to throb for attention. That was when the skeleton moved again, its fingers pressed against the skin at the base of her clit, forcing her nub out of its protective hood. The air caught in Pythia’s throat, feelings pounded through her, and she found that she was breathing more quickly.

“Look at you,” Admetus said. “Your will is so strong and yet your flesh betrays. With the slightest touch, you become weak-kneed and gasping. You were a **** to your body long before you were a **** to me. That is the part of the flesh that I will avoid. I seek mastery. I will not allow myself to be controlled. Not by my enemies and not by the weakness of my own body. Only I am true. Everything else is false.”

“That is…” Pythia gasped, “The reasoning of a madman…”

“When I was a student, I was told no sane man would ever wish to become a lich. So what does that make me now?”

“A monster.”

Heat was spiralling through her body, rising from the soles of her feet up into her chest. Pythia grit her teeth, refusing to make a sound even as her pussy grew wetter, the feeling became more pleasurable. Her clit grew stiffer, **** out of its hood by the attention of the skeleton. A throbbing heat pulsed between her legs, but suddenly she felt a cold shaft pierce her heart as her eyes caught sight of a familiar shape.

It was the golden needle. The same one which had bitten her before. Pythia began to struggle. The skeletons held her tightly, forcing her to remain exactly as she was. The one between her legs rubbed her, teasing her and keeping her clitoris swollen and erect. She knew what was going to happen. She knew it even before the needle pressed against her clitoris. The very touch sent a spasm of stimulation and fear spiralling through her.

“If I am a monster,” Admetus said. “Then I owe you no mercy at all. You’re mine. My toy to play with. My property to break and own. I control you whether you admit it or not. I shape you and make you who you are. Now I desire that you be someone else.”

The needle bit her, the pain was sharp and strong. Pythia cried out, but there was no one to hear who cared.

Back in the cell, Pythia knelt in the near-darkness. Her clitoris was adorned with a golden piercing, a ring which felt alien and foreign, pressed against her most sensitive place. But that was far from the end of her torment.

The ring was enchanted with a minor spell of vibration. Pythia did not know the specific spell, but she could feel it strongly enough. The cold metal pressed against her clit, throbbing with juddering motions that never seemed to stop. With her hands bound above her head, there was nothing she could do but press her eyes closed and try desperately to withstand them. Waves of pleasure battered her, never ceasing or giving her a break. The vibrations rocked her, thundering through her clitoris with a strength that could not be ignored.

Pythia was moaning; her whole world was focused on the point between her legs. A small puddle of liquid already had gathered on the floor below where she was kneeling; her many climaxes strained her body, pushing her to groan and whine. The ring never stopped. It kept building, kept forcing her to cum and cum. It was not a constant vibration, but a varied one. Sometimes it would be fast, beating quickly so that the individual pulses would meld into a single ****. At other times, it would be slower. One beat, then two or three seconds of nothing followed by half a dozen in rapid succession. Just so she never knew what to expect.

The lust and the pleasure swamped her mind, each climax threatened to unseat her thoughts. Her nipples were hard, straining against the cold air. Her legs were shaking. She’d already half-collapsed to her knees, only the chains around her wrists keeping her upright.

It was getting harder and harder to think clearly. Each orgasm came faster than the last. It should have been impossible, but each time her body was hitting its limit, Admeuts would Teleport that same slime into the cell with her again. She didn’t know what it was exactly, but she had started to think of it as the potion slime. When it had its way with her - as it always did - her body would be submerged in it, bathed in the life-giving liquid that composed its form.

After a short session with the slime - during which it would probe her and fuck her - Pythia would be left once more alone to the vibrations.

She did not know how long she had been enduring it. She did not know how much more time would pass before she was able to stop. All she could do was shut her eyes closed against the pleasure, bolster her willpower and refuse to let the stimulation break her.

She felt herself beginning to orgasm once more.

________________________________________________________________

The final Sending spell arrived, and Admetus nodded to himself. Or at least, he would have done so had he anything but a skull to nod with.

The Demilich hovered in his private chambers; the same place where he had once worked so hard as a mortal and then found transcendence as a lich. The dust was piled high, but that hardly mattered to Admeuts now. All that needed to be here was. His spellbooks, his instruments, his tools of study. And, of course, his magical items. Everything that he had gathered during his mortal life which he considered valuable was located here.

The dungeon was the seat of his power, but this room was the very centre of it. Unseen words and hair-trigger spells hummed with barely suppressed power. Anyone who set foot here that was not authorised to do so would soon find themselves in a very bad situation. If they were not useful to him, they would be hit with a dozen spells. Many of them were resist or die. They’d be blown to pieces, flooded with necrotic energy, killed on the spot and so on.

If they were useful to him, as poor Pythia had discovered, they would instead be merely disabled. Sent to a cell for him to examine later at his leisure. There was a rather extensive list of contingencies that he had built into the underpinning spells, but what did that matter to a lich? Admetus had nothing but time, and he had already been a master of the arcane before he’d even died. Since then, he had only gotten more powerful.

Currently, Admeuts was doing multiple things at once. With half of his mind, he was organising; summoning his undead servants and setting them forth to clean and polish for the first time in hundreds of years. Pythia had sneered at the idea that he might have peers, but the truth was that Admtus was rather well-connected for a lich. He’d slept for too long already, and it was about time for him to remind his allies that he was still around. A grand feast, a banquet and some quiet but powerful words would do just the trick.

For that, he needed to prepare. He needed food of various kinds. Most of it was not what a living human would find appetising. He’d need to clear and set up a chamber and he’d need entertainment.

The food would come easily enough. There were spells which could be employed to gather or create suitable meals, and there were many chambers in his dungeons which could be rapidly refitted. The last of his guests had finished replying. Some had used Sending spells, those who were magically gifted as he was. Others had sent servants, written notes, or used other various forms of assent as their natural abilities allowed.

He’d promised grand entertainment and he intended to deliver. The other half of his mind was focused on maintaining a Clairvoyance spell focused on Pythia’s cell. He’d been watching her for some days now, noting with amusement how she struggled against her own body. Her pleasure. Her defiance was amusing, her struggle against the inevitable made him more and more glad he had allowed her to live. Breaking her was the best part, the thing that he enjoyed most. He had been truthful in his desire to fuck her when he had a true body. But that was not his main goal.

He merely wanted to take her and remake her. To strip away everything that she was until all that remained was a willing **** drowning in pleasure. Absolute obedience was all that he demanded from his tools.

He had not broken her. Not yet. But tonight he was sure that would change. A Duskwalker was a rare prize and many of his guests would appreciate her just as he did.

A dry chuckle emerged from his dusty mouth.

“We will see how resistant you are,” he spoke to her image, “Once you have served as entertainment for my guest.”

________________________________________________________________

Pythia stood in darkness. Her arms were bound behind her back, the rattle of chains accompanied her every movement. The clit-ring was still for once, its infernal vibrations had been silenced early that day. She’d been given several hours to recover, even given proper food and water to augment her endurance.

She didn’t like that at all. It meant that whatever was coming next would be more than she was used to.

She was blindfolded; a strip of fabric pressed around the upper side of her face. It felt like silk, but it blocked out everything so all she saw was darkness. She had felt the pull of a Teleport spell some minutes ago, so she knew she was no longer in her cell.

But she didn’t know she’d been sent. It was cold; the air prickled against her naked skin. Even now, just standing here, she could feel a certain wetness between her thighs. It was infuriating. Her senses were flaring; the lack of sight only caused the rest of her to try and compensate.

Her heart was hammering. She didn’t know where she was. It was probably another cell like the one she’d just left, but without any way to know for sure, she was opening herself to any torment that Admetus cared to deliver. Sweat beaded her forehead; the tension coiled like a whip. Any second, she expected it to start. To feel something grab her, forcing her legs apart. To have to endure whatever it had planned. Maybe she would be fucked again. Driven to orgasm after orgasm until she was a dripping mess who could barely stand. Or maybe she would be bound, and pain would be applied instead of pleasure. Potions could be splashed across her body to increase her sensitivity, and Admetus could take his time well and truly driving her insane until she was begging for him to make her cum.

The fact that it could be either of these things - or indeed, anything else - preyed on her mind. Standing in the dark, Pythia felt as if she was the only thing in the whole world. That there was no help, no salvation. That this would be her whole existence from now to the day she died.

Behind her blindfold, she pressed her eyes shut. Her hands balled into fists behind her back.

No, she refused to give in to that feeling. She wouldn’t let fear defeat her. It looked bad now, but she would find a way to escape. She wouldn’t let herself doubt that.

Pythia yelped, a sudden tugging on the chain connected to her clitoris sent a surge of adrenaline rushing through her body. She realised she was supposed to follow. Trembling a little in wary anticipation, Pytha was **** to pad forwards, her naked feet striking the cold stone of the dungeon floor. She felt a flush of shame cross her face, knowing that she was being led by a metal leash connected to her clit. The **** which tugged her was not strong, but it didn’t need to be. The smallest tug sent waves of shock rolling through her. The feeling of the ring as it moved back and forth caused her throat to dry. Her legs shook, weakness and heat coiled through her like twin serpents.

She was made to walk. Blindfolded; her hands chained behind her back. She had no sense of where she was going, only that she had **** but to go there. Her breath caught in her chest, but she only really realised what was going on when she heard a massive door swing open. It sounded heavy like it was made of ancient wood. As soon as it opened, Pythia felt a brush of warmth against her body. There was a crackling fire there! Heat filled the chamber, wafting outwards to engulf her now that the door was open.

But that wasn’t all. Pythia strained her ears, pushing her elven senses as far as they could go. Her pulse was racing; but beyond that…

She could hear movement! People, not skeletons. Skeletons were mindless, they stood exactly where they were told and didn’t fidget or twitch. But now she was hearing movement all around her. She stumbled, realising that she was in a room full of people, but the thing holding her leash tugged hard and she gave a low, moan. A feeling of heat extended through her body, and she knew that for the first time, she was being seen by people other than Admetus.

Her face burned. Her legs were shaking. She hated being seen like this, weak and defeated, paraded before her enemy like a prize. The worst part was that the thing pulling on the chain kept her moving, tugging sharply each time she slowed or stopped. Hands bound behind her back, nipples pierced and chained, all she could do was stumble onwards into whatever new hell Admetus had prepared for her today.

And then, the Lich himself spoke. His voice was up ahead of her. But there was something different about it. Pythia realised that for the first time, he was not speaking with telepathy. His real voice was raspy and deep, as if not used to speech. But it was powerful still, the voice of a wizard. A man whose words could weave fate and **** alike.

“Friends,” Admetus said. “Behold my latest prize. Not just an elf, but a Duskwalker. A soul reborn, granted life anew for the sake of opposing the likes of us. I’m sure that most of us have had run-ins with her kind. Does it not do you good to see her humiliated? Broken? Brought to heel?”

Chatter broke out at that. Pythia’s skin crawled. Many of the noises being made were not the sort of sounds that would come from humans or elves. Admetus had said ‘’the likes of us’’. What kind of allies would a lich consider to be kindred?

The answer loomed in her mind and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Now, kneel!”

The chain connected to her clit was yanked hard and as explosives went off between her legs, Pythia buckled, collapsing to the floor. Her legs splayed apart as she knelt, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Her head turned; she heard the sounds grow louder on all sides. What was going to happen to her now? There were too many to fight even if she could prepare her spells. Just what were they?

“Admetus,” there came another voice. This one was sharp like a blade, each word was barked like a command. “Why have you brought her here naked but to tempt us? Are you trying to show off your wealth?”

“My wealth is beyond limit, Gnarl-Fang. But so is my generosity. For three hundred years have I slept in this tomb. For three hundred years, you have heard nothing of me. Many abandoned me. Many thought me dead or that I had lost interest in the world of mortals. Those who heeded my summons… you are those who believed.”

Pythia’s pulse raced. She tried to push herself to her feet but her legs felt weak and her hands were still bound behind her back. She wanted to cry out, especially when Gnarl-Fang spoke again.

“Then she is a gift? An offering?”

“Indeed,” laughed the lich. “Take her and do as you will. But there is only one condition. She must be returned intact.”

“No!” Pythia reared to her feet, finding strength in rage and shock. “You can’t trade me like some bauble!”

“Is that so?” Admeuts asked, his voice echoing towards her. “If you kneel to me now and acknowledge me as your master, perhaps I will not have to. Otherwise, a night as a pleasure **** will teach you the consequences of defying your owner.”

Pythia wanted to scream. She felt helpless, hemmed in. Though she could not see them, she could hear the others closing in around her. How many were there? Three? Four? Dozens? She couldn’t tell. Terror and desperation burned within her, the urge to submit and throw away her pride was stronger now than it ever had been before.

“What will it be, Pythia?” Admetus used her name as if to taunt her. “Serve me now or service my guests for the rest of the night?”

Pytha pressed her eyes tightly closed. Shuddering breaths carried through her body. She wanted to give up. She wanted to give up so much. But she knew that if she did, if she got down on her knees, she would never get back up again. She would make herself well and truly his.

Pythia braced herself, knowing the choice she would have to make. Hating it and yet hating the fact that she had no other option but to accept the punishment Admetus had put before her.

“You can have my body,” she growled, “But my mind and soul will always be my own.”

“So be it,” intoned the lich. “We can have her body. Make her squeal.”

His words were prophetic. Pythia’s clit-chain was pulled hard and she squealed, staggering forward to follow it. She stumbled into her tormentor, She felt the heat of their body as their hands wrapped around her naked back. Something soft and wet draped across her breast. Pytha tried to push away, but she had nowhere to go. The massive body was holding her, it was strong. Muscular and hairy. She felt that it must have been a head taller than her at least and far broader.

“I am Gnarl-Fang,” the voice whispered in her ear. “You will serve me now, whore.”

“Enough, beast,” spoke another voice. This one was high-pitched and strangely chilled. Cold seemed to radiate from it. “Admetus gave her to us all. She serves more than just you.”

“So be it,” Gnarl-Fang loosed a feral laugh. “I’m sure there is plenty of her to go around!”

He reached down, Pythia felt his hands closing around her body and then she was hoisted into the air! The creature seemed to be under no strain at all. His hair was thick and wiry, almost like fur and the other voice had called him a beast.

Something long and wet curled about her left nipple and she stifled a moan. Gnarl-Fang’s tongue was dexterous, stimulating her with long, slow motions followed by rapid darting movements. Pythia kicked out, her senses were flaring.

Someone else moved behind her. She felt them before they brushed her skin. Their presence radiated coldness. As their hands danced across her, Pythia felt cold talons, a withering presence which washed over her body, spreading shivers and rousing memories of primal terror.

“You stink of life,” the ghostly voice said. “If Admetus was not your master, I would snuff you out here and now.”

The talons turned, sinking in to her skin. Pythia bucked and screamed, but she was not cut. Instead, the creature seemed to flow inside of her, followed by a terrible cold which made her nerves cry out. Pytha did not know what Gnarl-Fang was. But there was only one creature that could invoke such a reaction as this.

The second voice was a wraith.

“As it is,” the wraith whispered, “I shall take my pleasure in another way.”

Its hands fell, tracing down her back. Each touch was freezing, making her whine and buck but Gnarl-Fang held her steady. Her legs kicked out, and the wraith ran one finger down the crack of her buttocks, enjoying the soft moan which escaped from her lips.

“Despair,” it whispered. “Music to my ears.”

The wraith’s body was different from anything she had ever felt before. Half solid and half living shadow, it was able to merge and fade, teasing her from inside of her very own skin. Its claws played across her body, sharp talons tweaking the nipple which Gnarl-Fang had so far ignored. Piercing cold stabbed through her chest. Pythia pulled desperately at her bound hands but there was no escape.

Meanwhile, Gnarl-Fang **** her legs open, he was powerful, easily able to make her comply. Something hard and hot pressed against her sex. The air caught in her throat and she knew that it was his cock. Her clitoris was crying out now. Being pulled along and teased had already made her soaking wet. She struggled not to show the lust which flashed through her being.

But it didn’t matter because the creature didn’t care at all what she was feeling. He thrust forward, his cock penetrated her pussy, forcing her labia aside and sinking into her. Pythia groaned, pain and pleasure burst through her nerves. The feeling of being fucked without even the chance to see her partner was a tortuous madness. All of her other senses were sharpened, and she felt every inch, every movement, every tingling wave of pleasure which coursed through her.

A ragged gasp escaped her throat. Her back arched. Gnarl-Fang was a rough, demanding lover. His cock filled her up, thrusting with greater speed and urgency. Waves of sensation rolled through her, each one greater than the last. He seemed to enjoy her grunts and her moans. Pythia’s hips began to sway, bucking back and forth of their own accord. Her face flushed with humiliation and she desperately tried not to lose herself in the throes of ecstasy.

Meanwhile, the wraith behind her was peeling the cheeks of her ass apart. It ran a single taloned finger along the crevice, sending a full-body shiver running through her. On instinct, she jerked away, impaling herself more fully on Gnarl-Fang.

“Do that again!” He laughed. “I think she enjoyed it!”

Silently, Pythia shook her head. Tears were streaming from her eyes, and she had never felt so overwhelmed before. Her very senses were being bent back at her. Something cold and hard pressed against her rear entrance. The wraith’s member? Were they going to fuck her together?

That was exactly what they were going to do. The wraith’s shaft pressed against her ass, forcing entrance with a painful thrust. Pythia’s whole body clenched, it felt as if spines of ice were burying themselves all along her back! But neither of the two cared how comfortable it was for her.

Her body was taut now. Every muscle stretched. She’d never taken two men before, not even in her wildest dreams. And Gnarl-Fang was so much larger than a man! His cock filled her like nothing else had, enflaming her senses and making her squirm with every thrust. Meanwhile, the wraith behind her allowed her nothing but torment. Its thrusts filled her ass, forcing her muscles aside and leaving a burning trail of icy coldness that stabbed at her like a blade. Each penetration made her jerk and gasp, her body shuddering and spasming, which only increased the tightness of her pussy and made Gnarl-Fang all the happier to continue with his own game.

The world swirled around her, becoming a flood of emotions and feelings. Arousal, lust, pleasure, and pain, all clashed together before she could separate them. Pythia could only endure it. She felt her mind-stretching, humiliation and shame filled her from head to toe. Part of her didn’t want to believe what was happening, how far she had fallen. but she refused to let it break her even now. She held on desperately, knowing that Admetus wanted above all else for her to break this night.

But it was so hard to keep going! Pleasure rocked her body. The wet sounds of slapping filled the room as Gnarl-Fang’s frantic thrusts penetrated her deeply, blazing her senses into a bonfire of desire and ecstasy. The wraith continued to fuck her as well, playing its hands across her back, the chill touch of its talons froze the very breath in her lungs, and the feeling of its cock inside of her was a freezing ball of pain and pleasure that screamed through her very being.

Caught between the wraith and Gnarl-Fang, Pythia was double-penetrated, the momentum of their thrusts carried through her body. The piercing on her clit made it even worse as each movement shook it, the ring moved back and forth, driving her into an ecstasy that she neither wanted nor desired. As time went on, Pythia felt her body begin to clench and shiver. Was she really going to cum from this?

“I want to use her mouth,” spoke a new voice. This one was hoarse, and the creature smelled foul. Pythia nearly wretched when she felt his cock press against her lips. His hands closed around her skull, forcing her forward. His member tasted awful but was stiff with arousal. Something sharp pricked against the contours of her neck.

“Make me feel good, elf,” growled the voice. “These others may fear Admetus, but I do not. If you fail me, I’ll be sure to punish you for it.”

The point of his finger was as sharp as a talon. It pressed against her throat for only a few moments, but the threat was clear enough. She started to suck his cock, drawing it into her mouth with her tongue and running her lips over the shaft. The tip bulged, and the foul-smelling creature made a sound of contentment.

Her whole body was bouncing now. Gnarl-Fang’s strength was pushing her back and forth. She rose and fell upon him, each impact was a blossoming flower of pleasure that tore at her mind like a nest of writhing thorns. The cold pain and pleasure which flowed from her ass also lashed at her determination. Something long and wet wrapped around her nipple, it felt like a tongue, and its course made her grunt and moan with dark delight. Her mouth was wrapped about the mysterious cock of the third person, who was thrusting into her with relish. Her head bobbed back and forth, her tongue teasing and licking the tip of his shaft.

She felt utterly ashamed. Humiliated. Defeated. Like she was being swept along by the desires of her own body. She was falling to pieces; each new humiliation was a step towards her ultimate defeat. This was what Admeuts wanted and she knew it, but that knowledge did not make it any easier for her to resist.

She had to fight! She had to keep going! But as an orgasm rippled through her, straining her mind and body to their limits, she wondered just how much more she could fight.

As if spurred on by that very thought, Gnarl-Fang climaxed. His movements became faster and faster, almost hungry now that he was on the edge. Then, as the wave of pleasure crashed against her mind, she felt his seed, warm and wet, filling her pussy. Pythia started, a low moan of denial on her lips. It was the first time any man had cum inside of her. She felt it dripping from her pussy as he withdrew. Her legs were shaking, too weak to bear her weight, but that was only the start of her trial. As Gnarl-Fang moved away, someone else came forward to take his place. An armoured hand played at her right breast, fingers flicking the rings anchored to her nipple until she gave a pathetic little gasp.

Then a new cock was pressed against the lips of her pussy. She whimpered, but there was no escape. The man who was fucking her mouth climaxed a moment after that, and Pythia spluttered, gagging on his rancid cum.

She was passed around like this for she knew not how long. Each and every time someone was finished with her, someone new would take their place. She was fucked in the ass, and in the mouth, she was made to cum again and again and again until she was almost pleading for mercy. Her pussy was filled, and more men enjoyed her that night than she had slept with in her entire life before.

Eventually, it came to an end. She lay shuddering and shivering on the cold floor. Cum dripped from her open holes; she was gasping. Barely able to stand.

“That was entertaining,” noted a new voice. This one was refined, sounding almost bored. “But I fear she is used up. Master Admetus, we may have made a mess of your little toy.”

Pythia felt a presence reach forward, taking hold of the blindfold around her face. Before she could react, it was pulled away! She blinked rapidly, trying to catch sight of the men who had toyed with her all night. The first she saw was the one who had released her. He was tall and powerful, clad in a type of armour which had not been in fashion for several hundred years. He had no head, but his voice emerged in a ghostly tone from the place where it should have been.

Beyond that, the wraith floated. A figure wreathed in shadow, shafting constantly. It smirked at her, an evil look on its half-solid face. Under it, there was Gnarl-Fang. He looked as she had imagined. Muscular and powerful. Clad in a ranger’s garb, which was ripped and torn. His skin was furred, and his face was elongated. A bearer of the curse. A werewolf.

The other creature who had stank so strongly was a ghoul. His body was emaciated, his skin green and gnarled. There was malevolent laughter in his eye as he registered the horror on her face.

There were more too. The room that they were in was a large one lined with tables, and Pythia beheld many creatures both living and dead. She managed to rise up shakily, her chains jingled. Her legs were shaking. Cum stained her body, and the after-throes of orgasms ransacked her mind.

“Perhaps not,” noted the refined voice. It came from the headless man, a dullahan without a doubt. “Looks like she still has some fight left in her. Shall we continue?”

“It would be a waste,” Admetus said. “Our elven **** has outlived her usefulness for tonight. Is there anyone here who has not enjoyed her body? Look how she is stained and soiled. She will need to be cleaned before she is of use again.”

Pythia’s face burned. She hated Admetus and hated what he was doing to her. But being dismissed as if she was just some tool that had been used up? That was somehow even worse!

“Still,” the demilich went on. “Perhaps she can be of some final use for the night. How about a show before we discuss something far more important?”

Someone in the crowd cheered. Pythia took a step back, and the hair on the back of her neck began to tingle as magic filled the room. A spell, but not Teleportation this time. A summoning!

Suddenly, something massive was behind her. She half turned, fearing what she would see. The crowd of monsters laughed and chuckled, and Pythia’s face paled as she beheld a towering elemental of earth and stone. Its body was rugged, barely humanoid. Her eyes fell, aligning with some horror on its lower half from which there jutted two very specifically shaped rods of polished, smoothened stone.

“No,” She shook her head, but Admetus was finished asking her to surrender. At his order, the creature moved forward, reaching for her trembling body. She had no strength left to fight and no energy to run. All she could do was listen to the laughter of the room as she was scooped up, the elemental held her above itself, positioning its two stone cocks beneath her holes. Pythia squirmed, but there was no escape and she felt herself slowly lowered.

A hiss escaped her lips, the first cock slid into her pussy, and the second **** its way into her ass. She tensed, her hands balled into fists behind her back while her face flushed red in humiliation. She was double-penetrated for the second time that night. This time, the guests cheered, smirking and laughing at her, enjoying her shame and her defeat. The elemental’s cocks had been smoothed down, they slid into her as easily as they could given their great size but even so, it was a struggle and she found herself pushed to her very limit just to take them inside of her.

Pythia kicked out, writhing her body to try and free herself. But there was no escape. Her hands were still chained behind her back, and she had no leverage. With each movement, she sank deeper onto the stone shafts. She groaned, feeling herself splayed open, put on display. She was more mortified and more embarrassed than she ever had been in her life. Around her, there were creatures that should have been her foes. Things that she should have seen returned to the grave.

And they were watching her get fucked. They were laughing and cheering as her body was **** into climax after climax. As she came and came until there was nothing else she could think about.

The elemental started to move. It didn’t thrust with its hips as a man might have. Instead, its cocks moved by themselves, pistoning back and forth like machines. The thrusts were powerful. They **** themselves deep inside of her, their rhythm made her body twitch and writhe. Her senses screamed. She bit her lower lip, but it was no use. Pythia squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to pretend that it was just her, that she was alone.

But the crowd was laughing. Jeering at her humiliation. Her face flushed, and a shudder wracked her form. The elemental was tireless, the cocks moving faster and faster, pumping her with greater and greater pleasure. Her legs curled, her back twisted. She moaned openly now, not even able to restrain herself. Her pussy was sore, she’d cum so many times already. The whole room was watching her. Every pair of eyes fixed on her naked, shuddering body. She was moaning; gasping for air as if she was drowning. The momentum of the pistons shook her whole body and made her chest jiggle and dance. Her piercings glinted in the light of the fire. Her clit broiled; the piercing made it extra sensitive. It blazed between her legs, a growing fire of arousal and shame.

Pythia came again. Her head reared back as the spasming pleasure knifed through her. A ragged gasp escaped her lips, but the elemental did not stop. In fact, it sped up! She tried to speak, to beg for mercy, but there was no mercy now. She was on display, a bad **** being punished. Admetus was aiming to break her by the end of the night and she could feel herself reeling under his ****. She was tired; she hadn’t been allowed to properly rest in so long. Her body was sore; she’d cum so many times already. She was worn and used, any sense of dignity or purpose stripped away.

Admetus wanted her to feel like a whore. Like a slut who could only follow her body. He wanted each orgasm to plunge her deeper and deeper into his control, shackling her with chains of shame and lust and arousal until everything she’d been before was lost.

The problem was, it was working. Pythia felt herself sinking, falling into the void which had been unleashed by the thunderous pleasure that crackled through her.

She came again. The feeling was so much stronger now. She cried out. Again there was no mercy. The elemental continued to toy with her. Her toes curled now. Her very skin felt like it was burning away. Every nerve was on fire with pleasure, every inch of her begging for surrender. Pythia trembled and did her best to ride the wave of lust and pleasure.

And over it all, Admetus presided. The gem-studded skull floated before her, observing her humiliation with an air of deep interest. She wondered if he was planning out future punishments for her based on how she was reacting now.

The third climax tore through her. It was intense, burning like a flame applied to naked skin. For a moment, she truly lost herself. The wash of pleasure stole her thoughts, leaving her a mindless creature awash with want. The chains, the piercings, the lust and ecstasy, they chased away her very self for a few moments while the orgasm roared in her mind.

As she twitched, the elemental finally granted her release. She was tossed to the ground, tumbling through the air and landing limply on the cold stone earth. There she lay, her chest rising and falling. Her heart hammering as she tried to recover herself.

“I dare say,” the dullahan spoke. “She seems to be broken this time, lord Admetus.”

“Perhaps,” The demilich spoke. “But if so, it was a fine sacrifice, was it not? I think we all enjoyed the show. But now on to far more important matters. Food has been given and entertainment provided. Now let us speak of the reason we are here.”

“The war with the living…” The ghoul grinned. “You always were my favourite wizard.”

“That was a given, I would hope,” Admetus said.

And just like that, the party turned their attention to other things. Pythia was left lying on the ground, covered in cum and sweat. Discarded as soon as she was no longer interesting.

She lay for some moments before she heard the rattle of loose bones. More skeletons were coming, and they had strips of leather and bindings for her body. She didn’t even have the strength to rise now. All she could do was lay there and endure as they wrapped her in them, chaining her ankles together behind her back, and attaching lengths of leather to her collar before drawing them tight about her body.

The leather had strange metal sockets and for a few moments, Pythia did not know what they were for. But she realised soon enough. As soon as she was secured; bound hand and foot and unable to move as much as a muscle, candles were brought forth and fitted into the sockets. Then, the skeletons hung a rope from the rafters and used it to hoist her into the air. Pythia gave a small moan, the world swayed around her. None of the undead or monsters even looked up.

It seemed for the rest of the night, she would be serving as the chandelier.

As soon as she was positioned properly, Ademtus spoke a word of command and the candles sprang to life. Heat washed over her body, the flickering flames were far enough away to do no damage. But it was uncomfortable, and it cast a frenzied light across the table around which her enemies plotted.

“A plague,” the ghoul was saying. “That’s a classic. Come now. We have a necromancer, a lich and a city of ghouls. We could brew up a deadly plague.”

“No,” Spoke a woman in dark robes. “That is too obvious. Too magical. It will be countered.”

“An army,” said the dullahan. “An army of the undead.”

“Which you will lead?” The wraith shot him a look.

“Naturally.”

“How unsurprising. Even dead, you are a glory-stealer.”

“Enough,” Spoke Admetus, his voice ringing out. “All of these ideas are good, but none of them will accomplish that which I desire. We will punish the living, but it will be with far more subtlety. I require reagents for my great work. You will all help me to acquire them. Once we have that, once my ritual is complete… then, the real fun can begin.”

Pythia listened with half an ear. She was so tired, her brain felt as if it was full of fog. Now and then, she drifted off, but the candles would always awaken her again with the hot splash of molten wax against her deep blue skin. She moaned, shivering. Her motions caused her to sway in the air. But the rope which bound her was strong and the leather which held her was beyond breaking. As the night wore on, she was splashed more and more. It became particularly bad when rivulets of hot wax poured down her thighs, edging closer and closer to her pussy. She shook her head, trying to will it to go some other way. But she had no power now, and gravity was harsh. As it touched her womanhood, Pythia’s eyes opened wide. A moaning gasp emerged from her lips, which became a pained cry.

No one below even bothered to look up.

That was how she spent the rest of the night. Dangling above a meeting of monsters. Hissing and crying as molten wax splashed across her naked body. All the while, the creatures below plotted on the best way to make the living world pay for the very temerity of having existed in the first place.