Pythia's Final Test

Pythia had lost track of time outside of the dungeon. Her world had shrunk down, gone was the outside, the sun, the feeling of the weather against her face. Now all she knew was the twisting corridors, the cold, the feeling of dust on her naked body and the eternal torments of his new-found place as an elven ****.

How long had it been since she’d been taken into that great hall and broken? How long since she’d given up the last sparks of outward defiance? Sometimes it felt like years, decades even. But surely it was only a month or so, if even that?

Things had changed; she was no longer kept in an interchangeable series of identical cells. Instead she’d been given one specifically for herself. It was almost twice as large as her previous cells and included such rewards for good behaviour as an actual bed. Though, even that still had chains which were used to bind her wrists and ankles every night as she was put down to sleep.

Each night, Pythia would be chained to the bed with her arms and legs spread. She was allowed no blankets, and so her naked body was exposed to anyone who happened to walk by. Her piercings would be triggered; causing them to vibrate frantically, delivering waves of pleasure which would wash through her body until the break of morning. She would moan and twist, squirm in her bindings. But no help would ever come, and each night she would eventually fall into a deep but haunted sleep as exhaustion overwhelmed her body.

Sometimes, she would be allowed to climax, the vibrations would be intense, driving her crazy until she finally found herself cumming to the thrumming feeling. At other times, they would be weaker, just on the edge of climax. They would taunt her and haunt her for hours, managing to stay on the very cusp of delivering her an orgasm without tipping over it.

Whichever fate she suffered, every morning would begin the same way. She would be awakened by the presence of Admetus who would unlock her chains and allow her to kneel on the ground before him. Each morning, she would apologise to him for all the trouble she had caused; for how difficult she had been to train, for how much effort it had taken her master to show her the true way.

Admetus would listen for a time, letting her run through her apologies and beg him for forgiveness before he eventually allowed her to join him for the day.

After her time in the Great Hall, Pythia had been issued a uniform. It was the same thing that all of Admetus’elven slaves had once worn. A combination of semi-transparent layers of silk which hugged her legs and arms edged with fine golden chains that dangled and jingled as she moved. The silks were in many colours and felt soft against her skin, but they cut away around her chest and pussy so as to leave easy access.

The layers were tight; hugging her body and accentuating her figure. Making it so that she was eye-catching and desirable. Added to this, she also still wore her collar and the piercings on her nipples and clitoris. She thought she looked like some exotic dancer, though certainly of the more lewd persuasion.

Once she was fully dressed, Admetus would take her on their rounds. As the lord of the dungeon, the demilich considered it his personal duty to know absolutely everything that was going on within his domain. To that extent, each day he would visit various locations, talk with various important servants, take in reports and give out orders. This need had not existed prior to the meeting in the Great Hall, but ever since that day, his lieutenants had moved many of their own forces into the dungeon. There were wraiths and ghouls and werewolves who all had to work together, which meant that much of Admetus’ day was spent dealing with petty complaints.

As his personal ****, Pythia was expected to accompany him. She’d crawl on her hands and knees in his wake, following the bobbing shape of his glittering skull. The uniform she wore did no favours when it came to concealing her body, her breasts would dangle and hang as she moved, shifting from side to side as she crawled like an animal.

Sometimes, Admetus made her wear a harness as well as a dildo and a buttplug, and she’d be ordered to grind against it, constantly keeping herself edged and wet as the demilich ignored her for whoever he was talking to. But if she stopped, she knew that he would certainly have her punished, so Pythia was **** to demean and shame herself even though her supposed master had no interest at all.

That did not mean, however, that no one else was interested. Admetus’ rules on Pythia were simple and brutal. She was open for free use to anyone so long as she was not permanently harmed. That even went when she was accompanying him on his rounds, so she found herself constantly waylaid, fucked, or **** to give oral sex. It seemed the whole dungeon knew exactly when to strike! She got used to crowded rooms, crude pawing at her body and electrical crackles running up her back as two or more creatures had their way with her at once.

She quickly learned the most common groups. Ghouls were all about shame and humiliation, they loved to **** her, taking power and glory in how far she had fallen. They would make her gag on their cocks, or fuck her with their fingers while she teased her own ass. They’d make her beg for permission to cum and then deny her, driving her into a wild frenzy before punishing her for daring to climax without permission.

Wraiths hungered for her pain and despair. Their spectral fingers clawed at her like needles of ice, stabbing at her with blazing sharpness that somehow left no mark. They’d go out of the way to make her moan and cry out, running hands across her body, capturing her nipples between icy fingers or even rubbing the very tips of their talons across the bud of her clitoris until she whined and begged for mercy.

Gnarl-Fang’s people, the werewolves, were far more direct with what they wanted. Whenever one of them zeroed in on her, it would always be for a fuck. Their cocks were inhumanly large, their tongues were long and dexterous. They would have her ride them while their hands pawed at her chest, or their tongues tweaked her nipples. When they came, their cum would fill her pussy, leaking between her legs to splash on the floor as she gasped and tried to recover herself.

Once their rounds were complete, Admetus would return to his inner chamber. That was where he worked his magic, and also where he was preparing for a great ritual, though Pythia knew little about that just yet.

With her master gone, Pythia would be given other duties for the day. The first was that she would need to feed herself. That one was depressingly easy. She was forbidden from eating solid food and had to subsist on a foul-tasting potion that Admetus gave her each day as well as cum. If she had not swallowed enough of it during her time wandering the dungeon with Admetus, she was expected to go out and collect more.

The creatures of the dungeon delighted in tormenting and mocking her as she did this, often attaching conditions or tasks she’d have to complete before she was given the honour of sucking them off. One told her to masturbate to orgasm while he mocked her the whole time. Another told her to fuck a nearby stone pillar, rubbing her pussy against it until she was wet and aching.

No matter what the orders or how humiliating they were, Pythia always did as she was told. She was a good **** and she knew her place. The more she showed no signs of defiance, the more rigorous the tests became. It was as if they were determined to catch her out.

But when it came to humiliation, nothing was worse than her training sessions. Admetus had made her his whore, and that meant she had to know exactly how to please him. True to his nature, he expected nothing but perfection.

It started with Admetus teaching her better control of her lower body. He tied her clit piercing to a short chain, and then connected that chain to a wooden pillar driven into the ground. For the rest of the day, he summoned various creatures and elementals to have their way with her. No matter what happened, the chain kept Pythia’s attention focused on her clitoris and how she moved her waist, legs and pussy. If she lost attention even for a moment, she’d make the wrong move and receive a sharp tug to remind her of her place.

Next, he wanted to work on her endurance. The demilich swapped her collar out for another. Admetus explained that while she wore that collar, she would not be able to orgasm. The enchantment would prevent it.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity, of masturbation, toys, and building pleasure which clawed at her mind and body until she wanted to scream. There was no release. She couldn’t cum, so the stress, desire and burning lust could only build and build. Her nerves begged for climax. Her legs felt like jelly. By the halfway point, her pussy was wetter than it ever had been before and she was gasping and moaning like a beast in heat. Her fingers worked her lower lips desperately, trying in helpless frustration to reach an orgasm which would not come. She even begged him, on her hands and knees, she begged her master to show some kind of mercy.

But he did not.

The collar was not removed at the end of the day. Instead, she wore it to her cell, where her piercings were switched on and she endured waves of unending vibrations through the night. The next morning, she felt as if she would surely go insane but Admetus still did not allow her to climax.

Three days it took her to earn her orgasm. Each one was harder, more **** and more helpless than the last. By the time she was allowed to cum, Pythia was so built-up that she didn’t even care if everyone was watching. Admetus threw her to the slime and let its mindless probing set her off, she moaned until her voice was hoarse. Her body trembling and welcoming its embrace as she never had before.

Once her training was done for the day, Pythia had free time. She had been surprised to discover that she had this, but she quickly learned why. Since she was not allowed to return to her cell until the night, and anyone who spotted her could freely use her, the ‘’free’’ time was more for the rest of the dungeon than it was for Pythia. She spent it desperately hiding, trying to move and stay ahead of those who wanted to enjoy her body.

Frequently, she was caught anyway and **** to service more and more creatures as word spread of her location.

But Pythia was hiding a secret of her own. On the surface, she was exactly what Admetus wanted. A broken little elven ****. A duskwalker who had surrendered her pride and dignity to become his grateful whore.

But she was not yet beaten!

Doggedly, Pythia hung on. She submitted; surrendering her freedom, her pride, her dignity and even the sanctity of her body. But in doing so, she saved the most important thing of all.

Herself.

The Great Hall had taught her that in a battle of wits against an immortal lich, she would lose. Admetus could wear her away, break her down with more events exactly like that. She hadn’t been broken there, but it had been close. If he’d known the spark of her defiance still burned, he’d have been able to crush it once and for all.

So she hid her true self. Pretended to be his ****, and never disobeyed no matter how degrading the order. She did everything with willingness and even the appearance of happiness.

But it was an act. An illusion in which she shrouded her true self and her true intention to escape.

Though Pythia had not been broken, she had been scarred. The last month had been particularly hard for her. Having to **** herself, to use her tongue and her pussy and her ass to please her masters, to submit, to bow and scrape and praise the ones who were violating her. Being **** to endure pleasure and humiliation, cumming more times than she had ever done in her life before this point. It had all affected her. She tried not to think about how much more aware of her body she was now. Of how easily she got wet, and how much stronger the call to pleasure was.

The idea of wearing a collar turned her on. The feeling of chains and piercings filled her head with fantasies. Whenever she thought of being free, there was actually some regret that she would go back to wearing normal clothes! She’d picked up kinks; the idea of being overpowered, **** down and taken. The attention of the slime which was able to fuck all of her holes at once, pleasuring her breasts and nipples and filling her pussy, ass and mouth while she could only helplessly endure.

Pythia was not a fool. She’d been changed forever by her time here. Even if she escaped, could things go back to how they had been before?

She did not think so.

Pythia felt that she was sinking; drowning in a world of vibrant feelings and desires; of chains and whips and piercings and all kinds of pleasures. Her act had bought her time, but even if she just continued on as she was now, she would still break in the end.

She had to escape.

She had to find a way to leave this place before it imprinted itself forever on her mind and soul.

That was why she searched during her free time. That was why she wandered the corridors, seeking anything she could use. Looking for even the faintest glimmer of hope.

Her chains clinked and rattled as she made her way through this dark and distant part of the dungeon. Technically, she was supposed to be on her hands and knees even here, but she quickly rose to her feet as soon as she was sure that she was out of sight. She refused to pretend to be the defeated **** any longer than she had to. Taking some power like this was refreshing, an important reminder of what she was fighting for.

Her clit-ring buzzed softly. It had been edging her for some time now, and part of her wanted to lean against one of the walls and spread her legs. To masturbate while no one was watching and bring her body some relief.

But she did not. It would be another sign that she had given up, become exactly what Admetus wanted her to be. So she did her best to ignore the feeling instead, even though it filled her mind and body with aching desire and overpowering lust.

Just as she was about to turn back, to give up on this section of the dungeon for good, there came something on the very cusp of hearing. A familiar sound which froze her in place. For a long moment, she listened, wondering if it had been merely the game of a **** mind.

But then it came again.

Clit-ring or no, she broke into a stumbling run, moving further down the corridor as quickly as she could. It was as if she was worried that the sound would vanish. That it would be a cruel game, an illusion or punishment by Admetus.

But it was not!

Her search led her to a small cave-in near the middle of the ancient corridor. The rubble was packed tight with webs of silk and scurrying, fat-bodied spiders watched her malevolently from the shadows.

Bundled in the silk, there were various victims of the oversized arachnids. Large rats and other dungeon creatures. But near the centre of the web, Pythia’s eyes fell on a bundle that was still wriggling and her heart leapt. Even wrapped from head to toe, she recognised him.

Herwig!

Her hand snapped out and ripped his body from the web. Her familiar was cocooned, but she worked feverishly to free him, peeling away layers of silk until she could make out his distinct body.

Herwig was a Nosoi, a psychopomp from the world of the dead. He was also a font of power, and even being near him was already making her feel stronger. He appeared as a slender bird with dark feathers; mottled patches of grey dotted his wings. His head was encased in what looked like a small plague doctor’s mask, through the lenses of which he groggily examined her.

“Pythia?” His voice was disbelieving.

She flushed, only now remembering that the last he had seen her, she’d been fully clad. Now she wore only silks meant to enhance the sight of her nudity and was dotted with piercings as well.

“Yes,” she breathed. “It’s me, Herwig. Where have you been for so long? I thought you were dead.”

“I knew you weren’t,” he said. “It would have been easy to find your soul if you were! I figured you’d been captured, but I never thought I’d see you like this…”

“Admetus has odd tastes,” Pythia said with a scowl.

“Admetus?”

“The lich behind all of this. He was the one who knocked me out. Where have you been?”

“Trying to find you! This dungeon is, well, a maze. I’ve been flying from trap to trap and monster to monster! Do you know how many times I’ve nearly been eaten? Far too many! And those damned spiders….caught me when I wasn’t looking. If you hadn’t arrived when you did, I’d have had a very embarrassing return to the Boneyard, let me tell you.”

She laughed. It was the first time she’d laughed since waking up in her cell. Pythia felt almost giddy. At long last, there was a way out! But even as she thought this, she knew that it would not be so simple. Even if she could cast spells again, Admetus was still a lich. She didn’t want to fight him directly, and trying to escape would only end with him chasing her.

She needed an opportunity, a chance to escape while he was too distracted to follow. Little did she know, she was going to get her chance much sooner than she thought.

________________________________________________________________

“Pythia, something most unexpected has occurred.”

Pythia looked up. It was the end of another training session. She was kneeling on the ground, the aftereffects of her last orgasm spreading slowly through her body. Her chest was heaving and sweat beaded her dark skin.

“I have been contacted by someone I have not spoken to in a very long time. She is…let us say, a peer of mine. I thought her long dead.”

By now, Pythia was used to spending time with Admetus. His blank face gave little away, but if you knew the trick to it you could decipher his emotions from his voice.

Right now, he sounded strangely pensive.

“Master? You seem concerned,” Pythia dared to poke him, hoping that the risk would be worth it. Maybe he’d tell her something she could use?

“Concerned is the correct word,” Admetus admitted. “She was a wizard of great power. She even rivalled me. Though, that was long ago, when we were both mortal. I am greater than her now. I am sure of it.”

“When you were both alive? So is she like you now? A lich?”

“Apparently so,” Admetus spoke. “I had no knowledge of this until now, but it seems she did take the same path as I. And she wishes for a meeting. You cannot possibly understand, but she was great in her day. Powerful beyond nearly all others. Allied, she would be the strongest partner I could wish for. Yet we liches do not always cooperate well. We are intelligent, proud and fierce. More often do we become rivals than friends. If she wishes to meet me, there is a good chance that it is a trap.”

By now, Pythia was well aware that Admetus was not truly talking to her. He was voicing his doubts to himself and she just happened to be in the room. She froze in place, hoping desperately that he would keep talking. The longer he talked, the more she would learn.

“And yet, if I do not go and she is genuine, the insult would be sure to make her into an enemy. I do not fear her. I didn’t when we were mortal and I do not now. Even if it is a trap, I know that I can handle it. She is a mere lich, she has not taken the steps I have. She is more limited, bound to her phylactery. I am sure that I can survive if she plans to betray me…”

His eyes narrowed, and Pythia suddenly felt as if she were caught in a spotlight.

“But you I am not so sure of. You are mortal. Fragile. If I went to meet her and brought you along, you would die if it were a trap. That would be unfortunate. I have spent time and effort breaking you and teaching you. I would not wish that to be wasted.”

He grew silent, Pythia continued to wait. Her body was tense, she could sense that Admetus was building to something but she had no idea what.

Then he spoke again.

“Are you loyal to me, Pythia?”

Never, the words formed in her mind, burning like acid on the tip of her tongue. You’d shamed me, degraded me and humiliated me. Why would I be loyal to you, monster?

“Of course, master,” she said instead. “You’ve shown me the way, taught me that all I need in life is to be your ****. I’m ashamed that I ever fought you so hard. All you were trying to do was show me the truth.”

She felt as if she were spewing bile, that the very words were toxic in their falsity. But she controlled herself, locking it down and holding it in place. It was just another weapon to use. Another way to keep herself from surrendering.

Part of her wanted to give up. Part of her did enjoy being a ****. A whore. That was the scary thing. That was what she had to fight. She would play the role, but she was very careful never to become it.

“Perhaps you are,” the demilich still sounded doubtful. “You are a beautiful elf. Even compared to those I once owned when I was alive. Elven maidens were always the sweetest in bed. I loved to take them and break their pride, humble them until they saw that they were nothing but whores before me. That I was superior to them and to everyone else. Yet, the pride of the elves was always difficult to break.”

For a moment, there was silence. Admetus’ words were heavy, Pythia did her best to control her expression, keeping it neutral as he went on.

“You were not the first to resist me, Pythia. But you were the first to crumble so quickly afterwards. Even though I knew the Great Hall would break your resistance, I also expected it to take some weeks for that to properly set in. Yet you turned almost immediately.”

The unspoken question hung in the air. Pythia’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt a cold claw closing around her gut.

“That is because I wanted to be broken,” she lowered her head. “All my life, I wanted someone to take charge. To put me in chains, to humiliate me and humble me as you have done. You’re right, master. I was proud and haughty, but all I really wanted was to be defeated and shown my place. Why would I continue to fight you? You have me everything I wanted.”

The words were lies but that didn’t make it easier for her to say them. Admetus regarded her coldly. She couldn’t tell if he’d bought it or not.

“I showed you what you truly are? What you always wanted to be?”

“Yes.”

“Then what are you, Pythia?”

Her voice hitched, rising a little as she tried to block out the emotion. Not all of it was fake. Even knowing that it was a ruse, saying these things was hard for her. It trampled over her pride and sense of self. It made her feel small and weak, helpless before her enemy.

“I am a whore, master. I am a slut who exists to be fucked and used. You made me your sex **** and I have never been happier. My existence is so simple now. You broke me, but now I realise that I always wanted to be broken like that. To be taken… if…if I got the chance to escape, I would not take it. This place is heaven for me now.”

“That cost you to say, didn’t it?” Ademtus said. “Some part of you is still full of shame for admitting the truth.”

“Yes,” she breathed, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. “Part of me is still ashamed of what I have become. But that part will die, just like the rest of the old me. Master Admetus, you remade me just as you said you would. I’m yours, now and forever.”

“After tomorrow, I will make sure that is the case.”

“Master?”

“I am tired of playing games, Pythia. It was fun while it lasted, but more serious things are now afoot. My forces return to me, and an ancient rival I thought long dead seeks a meeting. I do not have time to play anymore. Once I return from that meeting, I will make sure that you are loyal. I will put you through training so intense that you will be broken and remade. I will sift through you, straining out even the smallest granules of your old self. Nothing of her will remain.”

His voice echoed in the small room. Pythia felt frozen, gazing up at the floating skull. Horror swept through her mind and it was one of the hardest things she’d ever done to keep it from showing on her face.

She felt as if the world was falling to pieces. She’d just found Herwig, just got her magic back. How could it be that it would all come to this? If Admetus focused his full attention on her, there was no way she would be able to resist for long. She would be discovered and remade, becoming exactly what Admetus wanted her to be. The thought of a fate like that filled her with dread, even if her time with Admetus and his minions had awoken something in her. A deep need she had not previously known.

But she did not want it satisfied like this!

If she was going to spend the rest of her life as a submissive slut, she wanted to be able to do it on her own terms, with people she liked. Not be **** into it on the whim of a monster like Admetus.

Within, Pythia’s determination boiled over, beating with a fury in her heart. She knew at that moment she would not surrender. She’d find a way out, and she’d do it soon! Before Admetus had his chance to break her.

Which meant that it would have to be while he was away.

But even as she thought this, he spoke again.

“Until that time, I am not one hundred percent sure you will not betray me. So while I am away, I will make sure you do not have the ability to cause mischief.”

“What do you mean, master?”

“I leave late tomorrow. Before you, you will come to me. You will show me everything you have learned. Consider it a final test of sorts. If you pass, I shall have no more doubts about your loyalty.”

________________________________________________________________

Later in the cell, Herwig crept carefully out of hiding. With him back at her side, Pythia was able to prepare spells again, but she was still cautious. At any moment she knew that Admetus might scry her, so she insisted that her familiar always hide.

It was after dark and late at night, which meant that she was tied to the bed. The piercings were throbbing, sending waves of tingling vibrations coursing through her nipples and clitoris. Pythia’s world was a crazed mix of tiredness and pleasure, a pulsing dream made real.

“What are you going to do?” Herwig looked down at her from the corner of the bed. The glass eyes of his mask swept over her, trying to pretend the situation was in any way normal. He was not without sympathy for her plight, but they both knew there was nothing he could do about it.

Pythia moaned, her legs kicked out, and a whip of pleasure lashed through her nerves.

“I…” she breathed, trying to gather her thoughts. Why did she have to have conversations with him like this? It was beyond humiliating! Stretched out and shackled, she was **** to speak to her familiar through stabbing waves of orgasmic intensity. But it was the only time she felt safe enough to tip their hand.

“It’s our chance,” she moaned. “The…the chance we’d been waiting for…”

“I don’t know how you see it that way.”

Pythia pressed her eyes tightly closed, chewing her lower lip for a moment as she crested another wave.

“Admetus will be away after the test… if…if I can fool him one more time, he won’t be able to follow when we escape…”

“I understand that,” Herwig said. “But why not simply leave? Why do we have to fool him at all? Can’t we simply go now?”

“Because,” she writhed on the bed, lightning coursed through her body and her spine arched before she collapsed back onto the mattress. “B-because Admetus would follow. I…I’m his property now. He’d want to reclaim me… and he’s powerful, Herwig. I don’t think I could beat him in a straight fight. N-not like I am now…”

Frantically, she **** herself to breathe, losing the ability to speak for a few moments. Her mouth was dry, and lust dotted her inner thighs with liquid beads. Her clitoris was pulsing, feeling tight and hot. It felt so good. It felt amazing. She just wanted to melt into it, to enjoy it forever.

But she refused. She was still Pythia. She wouldn’t let herself stop fighting. She wouldn’t let her enemy win.

“Admetus thinks…thinks he has all the cards but I have my magic back thanks to you. I-if I just run, he’ll follow but - ah! - but if he is distracted, we might have a chance…One more test, that’s all I need to pass…”

Herwig said nothing to that. There was nothing to say. Both of them knew exactly how hard tomorrow would be for her.

But there was no other choice. She had to fight, and above all else, she had to win.

_______________________________________________________________

The next morning, Pythia was greeted not by Admetus but by Gnarl-Fang. The werewolf gazed down at her naked body, running his long tongue over his jagged fangs as she gazed up at him blurrily.

“Good sleep, elf?” He laughed. “Hope so. You’ll be needing it. The master sent me to fetch you. He was far too busy to do it himself. You look nice lying there all chained up, It’s a good look for a slut like you.”

Pythia bit back her natural retort, refusing to blow her cover so easily. She tried to sit up, but the chains yanked her back down and Gnarl-Fang chortled.

His eagerness was obvious in the erection which throbbed between his legs. His cock was larger than any man Pythia had ever known, though she was by now very familiar with how it felt inside of her.

Was he going to fuck her here and now? A shiver wormed its way up her spine as he traced his fingers along her dark skin. The very tips of his claws left little lines of red.

Pythia waited for him to speak, to mock her, to give her an order.

Nothing.

Gnarl-Fang’s fingers twisted around one of her nipples, Pythia grit her teeth, her sensitive skin tingling with a rush of anticipation. Her nipples grew harder, and Gnarl-Fang reached down, wrapping a hand around her collar and hauling her as forward as her chains would allow her to go.

“Elves are fun,” he said. “You’re always so haughty, so proud of yourselves right up until you break. I was hoping you’d last longer, but I’m sure Admetus will have more of your kind soon. Now he’s awake again, there’ll be no end of fun to come.”

He released her and she slumped back onto the bed, her heart hammering in her chest. A moment later, she jumped again as his hand pressed against the raised swelling of her vulva; his fingers traced her soaking entrance.

“Once we have more elves, I’ll see if I can convince the master to make you put on a show together. But until then, it’s time to do my job.”

Her chains clicked, falling away one by one as Gnarl-Fang unlocked her from the bed. As soon as she could, Pythia sat up, her body was already shaking. Herwig’s words danced in her head and she wondered if she had truly made the right choice.

But she knew she was right; if they tried to run, Admetus would find them. The only way out was to escape while he was away. She just had to endure one more day.

Just one more day and then she was free.

Gnarl-Fang did not even allow her to change into her silken uniform. He clipped the chain to her collar and yanked her hard, forcing her to struggle forward on her hands and knees. He seemed to delight in humiliating her, leading her down the tunnels naked but for her chains and collar, letting everyone else turn and watch.

Her face burned red before it was through; her breasts swang like pendulums, pulled at by the **** of gravity. The collar was tight around her throat, and Gnarl-Fang yanked it again and again. The piercings were cold against her skin, the one on her clitoris especially gave her no rest, and every move seemed to rub up against it. She was breathing fast and hard long before they even reached Admetus, who was waiting for them in his inner chamber.

The Inner Chamber!

Pythia’s heart leapt as she was led in through the door. This was a place she recognised! This was where she had taken her last steps as a free woman, which meant that this was close to the surface! Or at least, closer than the rest of the dungeon. If she got away now, could she run?

No, she chided herself, of course not. It didn’t matter how close this place was to the surface. Admetus was the one keeping her here, not distance. It could be inches from the nearest town and she’d still be just as trapped.

The Inner Chamber had changed since she was last here. It had been cleaned up, and a large amount of the floor had been cleared. Pythia could feel the ambient flow of magic but that was hardly surprising in a lich’s inner sanctum. It did put her in mind of one thing, though. The room mirrored its master. Before, when she’d stumbled into it, it had been sleeping. In a sort of stasis, covered in dust and piled with history.

But now it was awake. It was alive, it was thrumming with power and potential. A living reminder that Admetus was here to stay.

And speaking of Admetus, he was waiting for them there. Hovering above the newly cleared floor. His eyes were dim and Pythia thought he might be resting.

Gnarl-Fang fell to one knee.

“I’ve brought her, boss. You want me to go and let you have some private time?”

“No,” Admetus said, his gaze flickered into full live, cold blue eyes playing over them both. “You have served me well, Gnarl-Fang. Of all of those who answered my call, you were the only one I would call mortal.”

The werewolf grunted.

“You want to know why?”

“I am curious.”

“My grandfather served you. He passed down memories, stories around the fire. He said that you led to glory and victory, killed many foes. That you were worthy and strong and any pack that followed you would be rewarded. In my region, I am the strongest. There are other packs, other leaders, but none mightier than me. I could rule, but what would be the point of that? I wanted more. I wanted to see the world burn, to tear the throat out of my enemies and dance in their blood. I want to be alive, and you are the one who can give me those things.”

“You come to the undead to feel alive?” Admetus loosed a dry chuckle. “Very well then, Gnarl-Fang. Follow me as you have done until now, and I will show you a world bathed in blood. A place where you and your people can indulge your true nature.”

The werewolf grinned, showing his yellow fangs.

“Always, master.”

“And now for you, Pythia.”

Her heart raced. He had used her name again. Pythia could see that there was a circle which had been outlined in some form of chalk. Runes had been scribbled there, far too many and far too numerous for her to make them out.

“I have been preparing the stage for you,” Admetus said. “Please. Walk into the circle.”

She swallowed. Her eyes fixed on the circle. It pulsed faintly. Some kind of magic had been worked, but he didn’t know what it was. Admetus was gazing at her levelly, waiting for her to move. This was the first test, of course. To see if she would willingly go on her own as a good **** should.

Her chains jingled, and her pulse beat in her veins. She’d never felt more helpless than at that moment as she took her first step towards the circle. It was like walking through water, her body didn’t want to go. But a good **** would do as she was told and Pythia was a good ****.

At least on the surface.

She stepped into the portal and her skin began to tingle. It felt as if a thousand unseen hands were caressing her body, running their fingers across her sensitive thighs and chest. Stroking her vulva and curling about the piercings in her nipples and clit.

She gave a soft moan.

“Do you like that?” Admetus asked. “I hope you do because we’re going to start with something simple. Masturbate for us, Pythia. Give us a show to remember.”

Her face burned with shame, and her eyes fell to the floor. She didn’t want to. She wanted to preserve what little remained of her dignity but there was no way to avoid it now. She just had to play the part. Just had to be convincing.

She swallowed; the words would not come to her tongue until she **** them, looking into those unblinking eyes.

“Yes master,” Pythia said. “Let me show you how happy I am to be your ****.”

Chains rattled as she sank to her knees, the strange air which surrounded her made her feel all the more sensitive. It was as if every sense she had was straining to the absolute limit. She loosed a soft, low moan and she traced one finger along her slit. Her clitoris felt hot and tight, a pulsing, screaming nexus of desire.

Pythia closed her eyes, caressing the outline of her pussy. she could feel how wet she had gotten. Shame coloured her face, even a few months before, she would have been horrified at this situation. She would never believe that she would touch herself, masturbate for the joy of her enemies.

And yet here she was. The air catching in her throat. Her skin pockmarked with goosebumps and shivers. She was about to masturbate for a demilich and a werewolf.

And part of her was looking forward to it!

She felt ashamed. Degraded. Her hands began to move, to stroke, to tweak, to touch. It felt far too good, and before she knew it she was kneeling with her legs spread, and her pussy was shivering with anticipation.

Her hands moved faster, each touch bringing shuddering joy, her nerves were stretched tight and a horrible eagerness had come over her. Pythia’s face burned, but what choice did she have but to give in? Not to surrender, but to submit. Her body rocked, her fingers pressing against her sex, slipping inside of herself with a frantic pumping motion.

She swayed her hips, her other hand tracing along the outline of her breasts. Fingers trailed her hardened nipples, hooking through the piercing.

Shuddering breath filled her lungs; jagged shards of pleasure seemed to stab at her from every angle. Each breath now emerged as a moan and Gnarl-Fang watched with eager rapture

Pythia groped herself, shifting her body back and forth. It was like a dance, showing herself off from every angle. Her hands grew faster, her fingers pumped furiously in and out of herself, she felt her pussy clenching around them and threw back her head.

Oh gods.

Oh gods, it felt so good.

“Master,” she moaned, gasping and stumbling over her words. “I can’t wait for you to reclaim your body. I…I want you inside of me so badly, I want you to fuck me, to use me, to own me…”

The words were lies, but they were what she was expected to say. Her body jerked, spasms racing through her limbs as the climax reached its height. Her chest danced, breaths coming quickly now. The intoxicating strength of an orgasm boiled through her.

Pythia cried out, a wordless sound of shame, humiliation and arousal. Heat beat inside of her breast like a tiny sun; the feeling struck her in a wave, crashing through her defences and filling her up and up.

A shrill keening noise emerged from her throat and Pythia half-collapsed to the ground. Her chest heaved, her lungs **** for air. But before she could recover herself, Admetus spoke a word she did not understand. Instantly, the magic circle crackled to life.

Something long emerged from the ground below her. thin and black with a rubbery texture and an outline which seemed to devour the light. Another followed, and then another. They grabbed her, twisting around her legs and arms. Pythia struggled, feeling herself hoisted into the air, the tips of her toes dangling.

“A Black Tentacle spell,” Admetus said. “Suitably modified and cast as a ritual for a longer duration.”I did say this would be your final exam. I couldn’t make it too easy.”

Pythia struggled, fighting a real sense of panic as her hands were bound behind her back. The tentacles were all around her, coiling about her body. Resting against her skin and pulling her legs apart.

Her throat was dry. Her pussy was still so wet. Her skin burned with anticipation and black tentacles coiled about her waist, pushing her chest forward Pythia growled, fighting against them as best she could, but even if she could have broken free of one there were so many now. Dozens and dozens of them.

Her eyes fell to Admetus; his grinning features were without pity or remorse. She knew that he was watching her, waiting for her to slip up and give even the smallest indication of defiance. Was that why he had done this? Was it all a test? Was he waiting for her to accept her shame or try to fight back?

“Other spells have also been prepared,” the lich spoke calmly. “Are you ready, Pythia? I want you to tell me that you want this. That this is the reward for a good ****.”

For a good whore, you mean? Pytha did her best not to let her true thoughts show. Smaller tentacles were even now caressing her legs and inner thighs, rising up to her sex which was already dripping. Part of her wanted nothing more than to surrender.

But to ask for it? To beg for it? Even after so long, it was almost more than she could bear.

Pythia swallowed, fighting back a pulse of feeling which jolted through her as the tendrils caressed her chest. Some of them were curling about her chest now, squeezing her breasts. One long, slender digit curled about her left nipple, playing with the ring-shaped piercing.

“Well, Pythia? Did you want us to go further?”

“Yes, master,” she cried out, hating herself and hating the fact that part of her meant it. “Please do it.”

“Please do what?”

“Please use your power and make me cum!”

The words burned her throat, but as soon as she said them, the tentacles launched into action. Gnarl-Fang laughed as they **** her legs apart, her pussy was now fully exposed to the waiting tendrils. The very tip of the first began to rub back and forth across her mound. The friction stole her breath away. The one at her breast began to move faster, enticing her to squirm and wriggle.

Pythia jerked suddenly, letting out a squeal when one of the tendrils brushed against the piercing on her clitoris, the feeling turned her legs to jelly and made her face burn with shame. She hated the sounds she was making; so small and weak like she was truly helpless and beaten.

The tentacles were all around her now, not just teasing her pussy and breasts but rubbing against her naked skin. Caressing her sides, stroking her neck and coiling about her throat. It felt invasive like she was being taken from all sides. There was nowhere to run, and she couldn’t hide. All she could do was try to endure.

But enduring was so hard…

A tendril pressed against the cheeks of her ass. Pythia’s eyes widened and she shook her head, a note of desperation burning in her chest. Her body clenched when it found her rear entrance and her muscles went taut, fighting with futility against the invasion. The thing **** itself inside of her, wiggling back and forth.

It was all so much; a dozen sources of stimulation all at the same time; her body was screaming, her senses pounding, arousal and lust flooded her nerves and desire crackled through her spine. She shook. The embrace of the tentacles was somehow at once both degrading and yet so incredibly intense.

She jerked again, her body spasming as the tentacle between her legs began to push forward, forcing itself into her pussy by inches. Pythia loosed a low sound, her hands bunched into fists, but they were still held tight. It started to move back and forth, fucking her like a machine. She buckled and twisted, but there was no escape and things were only getting started.

The first tendril in her pussy was joined by the gentle but persistent intrusion of a second. She blanched. Two at once? It felt impossible, but she knew that Admetus was waiting and watching for her to try and refuse. To give some sign that she was not yet broken. She braced herself, spreading her legs as far as they could go as if inviting it in.

It took the invitation, twisting and pressing into her, flexing and forcing itself inside of her to join its brother. Pythia squeezed her eyes shut; her pussy felt so full now like it was bursting. Her nerves were screaming, and floods of pleasure swept through her lower body.

The one in her ass began to move, each powerful pump forcing it deeper inside of her. She strained and moaned, her chest danced, and the two between her legs found a rhythm as well. One moved back as the other moved forward. The stimulation drilled into her constantly.

Pythia wanted to scream; two more tendrils joined the first in her ass, stretching her rear entrance until she felt as if she must surely break. Pain and pleasure lanced through her mind, there was no way that her body could take all of this, could it? The ones between her legs never stopped; they fucked her with a constant motion, driving themselves deep into her womanhood. Spasms of heat and tingles threatened to subsume her mind. She was gasping, moaning, each thrust filled her world with vivid stimulation, made her shudder as her senses blazed.

And still, Admetus watched. Pythia glanced down at him between the burning waves which echoed through her being. The demilich - her master - was observing with a cold detachment. But Gnarl-Fang’s enjoyment was obvious. His erection was stiff, and he was idly stroking it as he watched her humiliated by the spell.

Admetus spoke another word of command the second layer of the circle triggered. A shark crackle filled the air and Pythia gave a shout. Electricity was coursing through her! Earthing itself in her nipples and her clitoris. The feeling was mind-boggling, a wave of unending torment that licked and danced across her most sensitive areas. It was too much; she could feel her mind going blank, she was sinking into the ocean of desire, losing all sense of where she was. The black tentacles fucked her, moving faster in mimicry of a living creature about to reach its climax.

But it was no living creature; it was a spell and it would not cum quickly and then leave her alone. It would keep fucking her, keep using her until Admetus told it to stop or until its duration was ended. And since it had been cast as a ritual, that duration could be measured in hours…

She gave a small sound, part pleasure and part absolute despair. She was sinking deeper and deeper into a shimmering sea of ecstasy. Her nerves were screaming; her body was throbbing.

But she was still fighting! A core of herself remained, stubborn and determined. She held on with grim hands to battle the unending tide.

For she knew not how long, the tentacles had their way with her, fucking her in multiple positions. Each time she thought that Admetus was getting bored, she’d shifted, put into a different place. She was fucked on her knees; she was fucked in the air. She was fucked from behind and from the front. All the while, the Electric Arc spell screamed and danced across her skin. She spasmed and jerked, her cries became louder and louder. Her world spun; the tentacles filled her up. Pythia climaxed again and again, each time more quickly than the last. She had no breaks; her body was pushed to its very limit until at last, she lay shaking on the ground, not enough strength even to raise her head to gaze at her master.

Only then did Admetus give Gnarl-Fang permission to drag her back to her cell. Pythia had no strength to walk or even crawl, so the werewolf hauled her like a living sack, throwing her down on the bed and doing up her chains so her arms and legs were spread as wide as they could go. He looked back, admiring her for a moment.

“Good show,” he said. “I can’t wait for your next one. I know that Admetus will find some way to outdo himself.”

And then he left. She didn’t know for how long she lay there. She was utterly spent, her endurance drained. She could only barely keep herself awake. Admetus had wanted to tire her out, make it so that she was no threat even if her loyalty was less than total.

She wondered now if it had worked.

“Pythia?” Came a voice as Herwig slid out of hiding. “We should be safe to talk now. I am sure Admetus has gone. Are you okay?”

She groaned. Her body was aching; her muscles were tense and knotted. After her experience with the tentacles, it felt like there wasn’t an inch of her that hadn’t been left strained.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m just…just resting a bit…”

“We have to go,” Herwig said. “This is our chance. Our last chance.”

“I know,” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. That knowledge was hot and heavy in her mind, but her body protested. It felt so used, so tired. Surely she could lie here for a bit? Only an hour or two? Just enough to get her energy back?

No! If I do that, I won’t be awake again until Admetus gets back. That’s how he wins.

She grimaced, forcing herself into a sitting position. The chains clinked, and it felt so hard. Just pushing herself up was a nearly impossible challenge. She blinked, the world seemed to swim around her. The urge to lay back down and let the darkness take her was so strong…

But she would fight it. She hadn’t come this far and suffered this much just to lose now at the end. She took a deep breath and reached for her power, a subtle incantation spilled from her lips and the tiredness was reduced. Her body tingled in a soft but pleasant manner. She sighed; the pain began to fade.

Looking down, she saw that Herwig was dragging something from under the bed.

“What have you got there?”

“A robe,” he said. “Stole it from the dungeon. Those werewolves don’t go around naked all the time, you know! I’m afraid it’s not your size, but…”

“But it’s better than nothing. Her familiar struggled for a moment before dragging it to her hands. It felt rough, but it was the first real clothes she’d had in a month.

Feeling better now, she reached for her reserves again, casting another spell which crackled along the chains which bound her wrists and ankles. They sprung apart, and she was able to rise to her feet. The robe was in her hands, and she gradually unfolded it, wrapped it around her naked body. Of the piercings that were connected to her clitoris and her nipples, there was nothing she could do. She would wear them for now. Later, she would get them removed.

Or perhaps not, a subtle but intoxicating thought added. Some part of her liked the idea of being captive, of being helpless. Dominated and submissive. A slut like her deserved piercings like this, didn’t she?

But pierced or not, she wasn’t staying here a minute longer. It was almost time to go.

“Herwig?”

“Yes, Pythia?”

“Can you make it from here back to the town on your own? Now that you know the way out, I mean.”

Her familiar nodded, his mask bobbing up and down.

“I can. I got caught before, but that was because I was searching for you. They’ll never find me.”

“Good. I want you to go now. Go to the town where we first set out from before we found the dungeon. I’m going to wait here for another ten or fifteen minutes, just to make sure that Admetus is gone. Then, I’ll teleport.”

“You sure?” He shot her a concerned look. “I can wait with you if you want.”

“No, go. I’m not going to fall to pieces, don’t worry. But I’d be much happier knowing you were already safe.”

“All right,” her familiar said. “I’m going, but I expect to see you there too!”

She watched as he darted from the cell, and then sat down again on the bed. Idly, she rubbed her wrist where the metal cuff had connected her to the bed. With the robe shrouded her body, it was almost as if she had never been enslaved at all. But below that, she was naked and pierced. There would be no going back to who she had been before. She’d been changed, and she knew it.

What would she do when she got back? She’d thought she might have the piercings removed before, but in her heart of hearts, Pythia knew that they were there to stay. Her collar too. Slowly, her hand rose to it, touching the hardened leather that was wrapped around her throat.

She could take it off.

She could leave it here.

But she wouldn’t.

She already knew she’d wear it all the way to town. To town and beyond. She’d find someone else, someone to dominate and control her the way that part of her now yearned for. Someone she could trust to be helpless with.

Pythia had been changed by her stay in the dungeon, but that didn’t make her not Pythia. That didn’t mean she’d give up on being who she knew she was born to be.

Newly encouraged, she stood up one last time. She had told Herwig that she’d meet him in the town and that had not been a lie. But she had not told him that there was one task she had yet to perform before she did.

Stealthily, Pythia slipped from her cell, moving through the complex and twisting corridors of the dungeon with an ease born of practice. She came at last to Admetus’ inner sanctum, where his ritual was even now being prepared. Pythia took a certain amount of satisfaction in evading the traps she now knew to be lurking in wait.

Then, she summoned her power and lashed out, destroying the work that he had done. Fire blazed and magic snarled around her, but it did not burn half as furiously as the fire within.

“Good luck becoming flesh again now,” she spoke, watching the lich’s dreams burn to ashes. It was a small ****, but it would do for now.

After she was sure he could not salvage it upon his return, Pythia spent some time creating the illusion of a wandering adventuring party. She’d been part of several herself, so it was simple enough to do. Only once she was finished did she finally sit back and wrap herself in the cloak that Herwig had brought. She looked across the dungeon one last time and mused that she would have loved to see how Gnarl-Fang and the others explained her absence and the loss of his prized ritual to Admetus once he got back.

Then the Teleport took and she was whisked away to the town.