In the pre-dawn darkness, the army advancing on Soleila could not be easily identified. Tehlarissa Zylgwyn made the natural assumption that it was their own forces finally returning from the revenge mission they’d set out on. They were a little overdue, but not so much so that their absence had raised any alarm. Tehlraissa felt a wave of relief wash over her. Her best friend Aleratha and her lover Nakiasha were among the counter-raiding party and she would be glad to see them both again… her bed had been especially lonely since her archer friend had left. Hopefully the victory would bring some joy to Nakiasha… the elf had been insisting that she wasn’t beautiful enough for Tehlraissa again, the sweet idiot. She stepped up onto the wall, lifting herself well out of the defensive cover, making herself as visible as possible as she waved happily at the approaching soldiers, calling out to them to welcome their return.
Trelgath Vrammyr spotted the eager elf waving and yelling at them. She wasn’t raising the alarm. Quite the opposite. Which meant she thought they were the dead and enslaved elves who’d foolishly blundered into the trap. When the order came to silence the excited elf on the wall, he quickly notched an arrow into his bow alongside two of his fellow archers. In the dusky shadows, Tehlarissa couldn’t make them out clearly enough to see the arrows aimed in her direction. The soft twang of three bowstrings being released wasn’t loud enough to reach her pointed ears. By the time she caught the briefest glimpse of the trio of arrows racing towards her, it was far too late for her to do anything to save herself.
The three arrows struck Tehlarissa within moments of each other; two punching through the soft flesh of her right breast and the third – fired by Trelgath – nailing her dead center. A shocked gasp passed her lips, her balance lost as she toppled backwards from her perch, landing hard on her back. Not our army, her mind screamed at her. Her lips – sticky with blood – trembled, trying to gather the strength to call out to the other soldiers on the wall, to warn them of the danger, but with one lung crippled and her heart straining to go on beating with an arrow impaling it, she couldn’t do much more than suffer as she lay there.
With the exuberant elf taken care of, the drow army converged on her now undefended section of wall. Ladders were propped against the wall, some of the more limber creatures using grappling hooks for a much quicker ascent. The first line of attackers scaled the defensive perimeter of the city in silence, each of them eager to spill elven blood and violate elven flesh. Trelgath stepped over the wall and fixed his eyes on Tehlarissa, still sputtering and clinging to life. He recognized the markings on the arrow lodged in her heart as his own. It seemed as good a reason as any to claim her in her final moments. Dropping down over her, he worked her pants down and pushed his erection into her pliant cunt, finding her inner workings to be pleasantly cool from the blood she was hemorrhaging into her chest cavity. He humped into her, savoring her pain and terror. It was an irony that he had been the one responsible for enslaving her lover and snuffing her friend, but if he had known, he would have only cared so far as to tell her that before the lights went out behind the girl-lovers eyes.
The pack of goblin flesh maestros could be just as efficient in combat as they were in breaking minds. Lyeecia Morrel found out just how devious the little men could be. The section of wall she guarded was nearest to Tehlarissa. She’d heard the woman calling out, but had ignored her, assuming it meant the bulk of the elven army had finally returned. About damn time, she’d thought. With troops spread so thin, she’d had to spend far too many nights bored on top of the wall, fighting off the cold and trying to stay awake. She didn’t hear the goblins scampering up from behind her. The sudden grip of their claw-like hands on her drew a startled shriek from her lips. She turned towards the unexpected attackers, hand moving to draw her sword.
Two of the goblins – Sliggeg and Teetmorx – pulled themselves up onto the woman’s shoulders, perching there like a couple of horny gargoyles. They each gripped the sides of Lyeecia’s head, holding it firmly between them as they mashed the tips of their erections into the curves of her pointed ears. Lyeecia cried out as she half-drew her sword, only to have a chunk of meat and bone torn from her wrist between vicious goblin teeth. She made an attempt to reach up and tug away the filthy creatures straining to fuck their way into her ears, but both of her hands were snagged and held at her sides. The pressure built on either side of Lyeecia’s head. She managed to start a scream just as Sliggeg and Teetmorx rammed their way through her ear canals and into her brain. The scream faded fast into a dazed groan, her eyes bulging and crossing. Awkward tremors crept through her body as the goblins energetically humped into her bleeding ears, tunneling holes through her soft brain. Lyeecia’s brain-damaged body slumped onto her knees, pissing herself as she released a series of awkward grunts and moans, blood draining from her nostrils. Sliggeg and Teetmorx went tense, ramming their full lengths into the nearly dead elf’s skull and basting her brain with their creamy loads before springing away from her shoulders. Her cross-eyed, slack face dropped forward, faceplanting hard against the top of the wall.
The rest of the wall guard was taken out with the same degree of quick, cruel efficiency. Their forces were so spread out that Merlara Ravaxalim – currently in charge of guarding the wall’s main gate – had no idea anything was wrong, let alone that she was the last wall guard left alive. She was caught as unaware as all the others, snagged and promptly flung over the side of the wall. Her scream was short lived, ending in a crunching thud as her body hit the ground outside the city, spine shattered, the back of her head caved in. Her twitching corpse was dragged back into the ranks of the drow army, clothing and armor stripped away as she went. As the front line prepared to launch a proper assault on the unsuspecting city, a few of the officers got done to having a bit of fun with one of the first victims of the attack, forcing their way into Merlara’s cooling orifices.
The gate opened and the drow army surged into Soleila. The attack drew enough attention to finally sound the alarm. What little remained of the elven military forces surged towards the enemy forces, lacking any kind of structure or command. Their general was gone, her higher ranking underlings still in the city all dead in their beds. The soldiers were slaughtered like meat through a grinder as they threw themselves at the throng of enemy combatants. It wasn’t long before only five of them remained – all women. They’d gathered into a tight group, desperate to prolong their own lives instead of flinging themselves uselessly into death to defend the city.
Working together, they were able to hold back the drow forces with reasonable skill, but against the Butcher, they were nothing more than helpless sows waiting to be butchered. They did their best to retreat, maintain their attacks as they backpedaled to someplace safe. But the beast of an orc was eager to hack them apart, the pack of drow soldiers following in his wake eager to have fun with the scraps he left behind. And no place in Soleila was safe any longer.
Kethryllia Ravaroris faced the Butcher’s terrible bloodthirst first. The sheer bulk of the orc froze her in her place, terror gripping her so firmly that she could do nothing but piss herself from the fear. The yells of her fellow soldiers – begging her to get back – were dull in her ears. A whimper trembled on her lips as the Butcher cocked his beefy arm back. He swung, catching Kethryllia against the side of her face with the bottom of his cleaver’s handle. The force of the strike dislocated her jaw and ripped it free from her face as her body spun away. Her fellow soldiers got to witness her jaw tearing free, leaving her tongue to flop about in the geyser of blood pouring from the torn flesh left behind. Her eyes rolled up as her momentum carried her through a full rotation before she dropped to the ground, landing hard on her breasts.
The Butcher stomped onward, reaching Lenna Qilar next. She made a pitiful attempt to stab her sword into the orc’s belly, only to have her blade knocked from her grip with a light swipe of the man’s cleaver. He brought the butchering tool up into the air and chopped downwards. The tested blade connected with the top of Lenna’s head and cracked through her skull with ease. The Butcher flexed his arm, enlisting the necessary amount of force to follow through with his downward stroke. The cleaver split the elf’s pretty face in half, carved a gory line down the center of her throat and through her cleavage. Her belly split open, spilling severed lengths of guts out of her as the Butcher concluded his fatal chop by forcing the cleaver through her pelvic bone, carving through the cleft of her buttocks and the folds of her cunt. Lenna’s stiff legs remained at awkward attention before gravity pulled her separated halves apart, toppling them both to the ground.
Sarya Miragolor had been standing just beside Lenna. She had her sword poised to strike the Butcher, but her fingers had grown numb and stiff at the sight of her companion’s bloody bisection. She soon became just another slab of meat left in the Butcher’s wake. Yanking his cleaver up, he swung sideways at the elf, catching her just above her hips. He hacked his way through her with ease, separating her upper half from her lower half. Her torso slid backwards, sword fumbling from her grip as she frantically reached down to cling to the tops of her legs. Her fingers slipped in the hot blood gushing out of her and her upper half dropped away. She was treated to the sight of her flexing ass before her as her legs made a few jagged steps away before giving out.
The Butcher let out a growl of annoyance as he lifted his cleaver to see that the blade was bent and cracked from overuse. He slung the weapon onto his belt and reached for another in his collection of cruel instruments. The remaining two elf soldiers had seen the damage to his primary weapon and had taken it the momentary shift in his attention to launch a final, desperate attack on the behemoth. Closing his hand around the rusted meat hook, the Butcher was more than ready for the pair. He smacked Finnea Ravadithas’s sword aside and grabbed her by the shoulder, twisting her away from him. Dropping the meat hook low, he brought it up fast and hard, slamming the bent length of pointed steel into her back, hooking under her shoulder blade. Finnea howled as the hook entered her, arms straining to reach back and pull it free. Gathering the length of chain attached to the hook, the Butcher flung it up and over a nearby wooden crossbeam stretching over the street. With a few hard tugs, he hefted Finnea’s flailing form into the air and left her dangling there.
Only Mariona Virmenor remained and she desperately wished that were not the case. Her terrified eyes flicked from the Butcher to Finnea’s dangling body, sword shaking in her hands. The Butcher advanced on the trembling soldier, drawing a knife that was comically small in his hands. The blade was typically used to skin prey, but it worked just as well at disemboweling it. He slashed lengthwise across Mariona’s belly and then upwards, creating a bloody cross in her skin. The first bulge of intestines started to push through the opening, but the Butcher’s clenched fist punched the organs back into place. Mariona gasped as the Butcher’s huge hand invaded her belly, his fist opening as his fingers dug deeper into her, searching for something in particular. He gave the elf a wide grin as he found it. With a bit of effort, he forced his thick fingers through her back skin and then closed them, gripping the base of her spine firmly. His free hand slapped down on top of Mariona’s shoulder, holding her body in place as he yanked the hand buried inside her back the way it had come. The final soldier’s face filled with shocked agony for the precious few moments her head remained seated at the top of her neck. With a gruesome tearing, Mariona’s head was ripped down into the base of her neck, disappearing into her chest cavity before emerging, soaked in blood and gore, from the hole in her gut. The Butcher hefted his prize into the air, gripping the mangled length of the woman’s spine with the heavy weight of her head dangling below.
Kethryllia would have been tasting the dirty roadway if not for all the blood coating her flopping tongue as it dragged across the bricks. She gurgled through the thick fluid as it poured from the ragged meat of her torn cheeks, blinking tears from her eyes as the pack of soldiers following after the Butcher had their fun with her. They’d stripped away her pants and were taking turns hammering their way up her ass while she bled out before them. Her mind fogged, the shock of her brutal jaw removal taking its toll on her. Her eyes rolled back and her head sank forward, giving off a few more weak shudders before passing into death, the sound of her fleshy buttocks being thrust against the last thing she heard.
The two halves of Lenna’s body made for an interesting problem for the horny soldiers who gathered around her. Her limp hands could be wrapped around a pair of members. Two more could drag across the soft soles of her feet. But her most appealing holes had been rendered nonexistent by the Butcher’s cleaving blow. The soldiers got creative, pushing their aching members into the split hemispheres of her brain, fucking against the underside of each plump tit, stringing out her intestines to slide into the severed flesh-hoses and jerk themselves off. But had first seemed like a corpse with limited uses became a myriad of uniquely pleasant experiences for the men gathered around Lenna.
The state of Sarya’s body was far simpler to deal with and, like Kethryllia, she was still clinging to life when they reached her. Her lower half was stripped, pulled up and held between a pair of the soldiers. They rammed their way into her cunt and ass while stretching and stroking her limp legs. A third soldier tore away the light armor covering Sarya’s chest and dropped on top of her. He mashed her perky tits together along the sides of his erection and started humping, savoring the look of terrified pain in the woman’s eyes as she watched his cock rise and fall through her cleavage. The sight of her face growing pale, the life slipping away from her, encouraged him to fuck her tits faster. He let out a triumphant grunt as he came before she went, treating her to a significant facial before her head dropped back to the road and she finally died.
Finnea was the liveliest of all of the Butcher’s victims, suffering endlessly but in very little danger of expiring any time soon. Her kicking legs could only dissuade the soldiers so much as they got her boots and pants off. She was at a convenient height for their lusts, a queue forming around her struggling form as they took turns fucking their way into her lower holes. Finnea would remain hanging there, an alluring point of interest as the drow army continued their invasion of the city. It would take days before she finally expired. Her inert, cum-packed corpse would remain dangling, providing relief for anyone who could handle the stench wafting off of her rotting meat. But before that time came, many other elves suffered and died during the invasion of Soleila.
With no military forces to defend them, the civilians living in Soleila were easy pickings for the drow army. Every man was slaughtered on sight, no matter his age. The women suffered a far wider range of tortures, from reasonably quick deaths, to extended demises, to enslavement. The one thing no elf in the city saw a glimpse of was even an ounce of mercy.
Edea Valnala, one of the city’s apothecaries, was caught in her shop by a rowdy trio of drow soldiers. She’d been working in the back of her shop when she heard the commotion from outside. As she made her way to the front door, she let out a scream as the soldiers burst inside. She made a panicked attempt to flee back into her workshop, but they caught her along the way and dragged her the rest of the way. Clearing her workbench of bottles and half-finished potions, they flung Edea over the surface and hastily tore away her clothing. She screamed for help, her mind resisting the reality of the situation. Soleila was the capital city, well-defended. A drow invasion had always felt like an impossibility. Facing the consequences of that impossibility, Edea could do nothing to stop the drow from taking what they wanted from her.
Omardrin Deep wrenched Edea’s legs apart, leaning in to give her bared snatch a close examination. He twisted a finger through the wispy curls of her silky pubic hair before pushing his thumbs against her labial folds, peeling them apart to stare into the core of her sex. He took a deep, appreciative smell of her natural musk, made all the more pleasant due to the flowery-scented oils she regularly rubbed between her thighs. He pressed his lips into her cunt and jabbed his tongue against her warm, sensitive skin, giving her a thorough oral examination. Edea cringed, tears stinging her eyes as the pleasure of the drow’s slick tongue rolled up from her crotch. She let out a yelp as Kronaxle Claddervs grabbed a fistful of her dark hair and forced her head to the side, pushing the thick tip of his cock past her lips.
Dresnel Abiirn turned his attention to the shelf of various potions lining one wall of Edea’s workshop. He considered himself a bit of an apothecary enthusiast and had a reasonable knowledge of what several of the potions were and how they worked. He chuckled as he found a set of potions hidden on the bottom shelf behind a few dusty vials of health restoratives. “Look what I found, boys,” he called to the others, gathering up a few of the bottles. “The bitch has a private stash of the good stuff.”
“What’s that?” Kronaxle asked, still pumping into Edea’s mouth, giving the bottles a dubious look.
“The sorts of things that significantly alter someone’s consciousness,” the clever drow said with a grin. “A few sips of one of these and we’ll enter a new plane of existence, one created entirely by our minds.” He popped the cork from the top of one of the bottles and offered it to the mouth-fucker. “Want to try?”
Omardrin lifted his mouth from Edea’s snatch. “Just because we have free reign to do what we like to whatever elf scum we find, doesn’t mean we can chug that swill. We still have work to do.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Kronaxle said with a grin, reaching over to take the open bottle from Dresnel. He popped his cock free from Edea’s mouth and grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to face upwards and keep her lips parted. “You look thirsty,” he chuckled, bringing the bottle of potent fluid to her mouth and tipping it into her. Edea’s eyes bulged as the hallucinogenic drink poured across her tongue and filled her mouth to the brim, forcing her to swallow to avoid suffocating or drowning in the stuff. She’d taken more than a few sample sips from the bottle over the years, enough to know that the quantity being forced into her was far too large. Tears slid from her eyes as she swallowed the spicy drug, knowing that each chug would further obliterate her mind.
The contents of the bottle were potent. One swallow was all it took for Edea to feel the effects. A warmth blossomed in her belly, radiating outwards. Her pupils dilated, pulse quickening. Her nipples stiffened into tight points, labia swelling as a flood of juices drained from her pulsing sex. Her resisting struggles became urgent writhing. The horror she felt vanished. She could no longer even see her abusers, her vision crowded with vibrant flashes of color and swirls of glowing lines that traced out a myriad of perverse imagery. The images of fireworks intensified as Omardrin’s lips returned to her cunt, each kiss, each flick of his tongue, sending her through a cascade of powerful climaxes. Her tongue swirled around the rim of the bottle still held against her lips, gathering up every drop of the lingering drug she could and moaning into the empty vessel. When the bottle slid away and was replaced by something fleshier, she kept on working her tongue, sucking to get whatever juices she could from the meat.
Dresnel’s chemical interest faded as he watched the changes wash over Edea. Leaving the rest of the bottles on a nearby desk, he made his way over to the fun, freeing his erection. He took turns sliding into her hungry mouth with Kronaxle, tilting her head back and forth between them. When Omardrin finally got his fill of the elf’s honey, he pulled his face away from her slippery crotch, licking his lips. Gripping his cock, he guided himself to her slit and eased his way in, gasping as her vaginal walls shivered and clung to his girth. A spasm shot through her body, lips closing tighter around Kronaxle’s dick, sucking hard at him as she moaned and jerked her hips up in a desperate attempt to gain more of Omardrin’s member. Hot juices sprayed from her, splattering across the drow’s belly and soaking his balls.
Plugged at both ends, Edea’s drug-soaked mind imagined herself as a stuffed balloon, filling more and more with the rising flow of ecstasy rushing into her with each pump of the cocks penetrating her. When the molten spunk of one of her oral lovers drained over her tongue, she drank it down with far more enthusiasm than she had the bottle’s potent contents. She purred around Kronaxle’s pulsing prick as Dresnel fired lines of his own sticky seed over her cheek. With her mind gone, the drow didn’t bother restraining Edea’s arms, leaving her hands free to massage her heaving tits and tug at her aching nipples. She reached up, closing her fingers around the base of Kronaxle’s cock and squeezing hard. When her lips popped away from his spent member, she jerked along his softening length, urging him to regain his stiffness. Her other hand moved blindly to find Dresnel’s, jerking him off with equal fervor. In her tumbling mind’s eye, she saw herself passing along her very essence into their bodies, fueling their lust and renewing their flesh.
Edea let out a frustrated whimper as the cock plunging away between her splayed thighs exploded within her even as she reinvigorated the two pricks in her hands. She shuddered on her work bench, each drop of cum that entered her forcing her into a fresh climax. She clenched her cunt muscles around Omardrin, doing her best to stroke him with her hot walls like she had the two men on other side of her. It worked to a point, but it was not enough to keep the pleasant rod of flesh inside her. Edea grunted and grumbled like an irritated child who wasn’t getting what she wanted, drawing her hands back to her body so she could roughly grope her chest and finger her snatch. The three soldiers watched her performance, pleased by the display and impressed with the potion’s ability to transform her so utterly into a wanton whore.
Edea gasped as their rough hands fell upon her again, rolling her onto her side and stretching her left leg up into the air. She hungrily slurped at the fresh cock presented to her lips, moaning around it as she felt the other two prodding against her lower holes. Omardrin clutched her hair as he fucked the elf’s face with rapid pumps, enjoying the way she gagged around him, layering his shaft in her spittle. Kronaxle slotted his unit easily into the stoned elf’s snatch, slick as it was with a blend of male and female cum. Dresnel gathered up some of that cum, splattered across the inside of Edea’s thigh, and used it as an effective lubricant to wedge his way into her rear. The eager side to side gyrations she made was evidence that she did not mind the anal intrusion in the slightest. She was desperate to get fucked in any way she could.
Edea’s eyes rolled back as she shoved her face into Omardrin’s crotch, stretching her lips around the base of his shaft as the head of his cock squeezed down her clenching throat. She gulped around his member, drooling over his testicles and releasing muffled groans as he gripped her hair and pinched her nipples. She stretched one arm upwards, looping around Omardrin to grip his ass, while the other moved down and behind her to stroke across Dresnel’s hip. She was a live wire filled with pure ecstasy being pumped into her. The lightest breeze across her naked flesh, the trickle of her perspiration running down her back, the trickles of precum leaking into her holes, all of it was enough to overwhelm her nerve endings. The ecstasy was a more powerful drug than anything she’d ever sampled, it overcame the fatigue of her gyrating body, pushed her to strive for more and more of it.
After finishing with their respective holes, they rolled Edea onto her belly. She humped her gooey crotch against the top of the work bench as she dragged her tongue through the pool of drool and jizz under her head. “Our little friend wants to keep this party going,” Dresnel chuckled, grabbing another bottle from the selection he’d picked out. He pulled her head up and brought the fresh bottle to her lips. This time, she drank down the contents eagerly. As the new drug entered her system, she went into a wild fit of seizures. Her humping intensified, eyes rolling back to show only the whites. She jerked her hips upwards, lifting her crotch into the air as a geyser of girl-spunk sprayed from her. As the violent mixture of drugs in her system settled down, Edea slumped over the work bench, barely conscious and thoroughly spent.
Edea’s lethargy did not dissuade the drow soldiers from continuing to have their fun with her. Dresnel took her next, climbing over her and plunging back into her ass. Edea groaned and shifted beneath her vigorous lovers, too sapped to push back to meet their thrusts despite how good they felt. With three more loads of cum clogging her bowels, the elf’s lack of response finally became irritating to the soldiers.
“I can fix this,” Dresnel assured them, returning to the assortment of bottles. “Roll her over so we can give her a nice, strong stimulant.”
Kronaxle and Omardrin rolled Edea over and sat her up as Dresnel selected another potion. He recognized it as a form of energy-giving fluid, which seemed to be exactly what their plaything needed. Uncapping it, he brought it to her lips. As the sweet taste rolled across her tongue, Edea felt a jolt run through her, pushing away the fatigue. She took the bottle from Dresnel and continued to gulp, downing the full bottle in a little under a minute. She released a soft burp followed by a low moan, dropping the empty bottle in favor of clutching at her breasts. Gooseflesh spread across her skin as her heart pounded in her chest, driven into a new kind of overdrive.
The soldiers were ready to give Edea another round of hard fucking when the three potions met in her stomach. The mixture started a violent chain reaction. The woman’s moan shifted into a strained whine as she dropped her hands down to her feverish belly. The whine rose into a high-pitched scream as her body pulled back, slamming onto the work bench before arching her spine to push her midsection into the air. She kept on screaming, drowning out the sound of stretching skin as her stomach swelled. Her arms and legs thrashed about, head rolling from side to side, as her extremities began to balloon up just like her gut. Bloody tears gushed from around her bulging eyes, leaked from her gumline and squirted from her ears. In a matter of moments, Edea more resembled a blood-bloated tick than she did a fetching elven woman.
“What the hell did you do to her?” Kronaxle snapped, smacking Dresnel across the chest.
Dresnel shrugged, staring in horror at what was happening to Edea. “I was just trying to give her a little more pep.”
Edea’s screams choked off, her agony too extreme to properly express, allowing her to hear the way her skin stretched, the way her organs popped inside her. The creaking droned away in her head, growing louder with each moment. Her swollen body had taken on a dark crimson shade, vicious stretch marks crisscrossing over her. She managed a pathetic squeak before her flesh gave out. She exploded into a wave of thick, chunky gore that left the room and its three remaining occupants soaked in her remains.
Kronaxle wiped the layer of gore from his face and glared over at Dresnel. “You’re an idiot.”
As the sac of the city progressed, the drow rampaged through the population with almost now resistance… but that didn’t mean that none were capable of resisting. The assassins the night before had slain every mage and priest they could find, and with the fall of the temple today the vast majority of the city with the ability to use magic had been killed.
It was the job of Koszar Nirune to make sure that it was all of them. He moved through the city like a wraith, killing anyone among the elves that he detected using magic. He had had his fun this morning… this was about his ascension. He was the second mightiest mage in all of Menzoberranzan… and while some would be happy with that, to Koszar it just meant he had a better view of the seat still above him. If he succeeded brilliantly enough, he might gain the allies he needed to take down Grompf… and that was more important that tearing off a bit of additional cunt for himself.
Most of the time.
When he detected the surge of magic from the noble district, at first he thought that the King and Queen, wizards by reputation, had entered the battle. Eager for the glory that taking them down would bring, he summoned a door in open space and stepped through it, appeared behind ranks of drow warriors trying to break through a few defenders into a noble’s estate. The magic was coming from inside… quite a bit of it. He narrowed his eyes as he examined. Not the King and Queen then… a summoner. The mage was summoning allies to the fight. He needed to get in there.
With a few gesture, Koszar wove a trio of scorching green wedges into existence, willing them to fly forward faster and straighter than the truest arrow. The guards there two men and a woman, and the arrows took the three of them in the chests, the acid flowing out of the magic to drip down their front as they fell to the ground, screaming and dying as their skin melted with their clothing. Drow warriors were quick to hack the men to pieces, but a pair of men dragged the woman off to rape… Koszar Nirune couldn’t be bothered. Gesturing onwards, he sent the others questing through the house, looking for the summoners.
Elira Mizzerun chanted frantically, kneeling in one of the twelve circles as she heard elves scream and die around her. Her blonde hair was damp with sweat, sticking to her face, but she couldn’t brush it away. She had to focus… she could sense the delicate fibers of the spell winding around her, streaming through her mind like the lyrics of an epic ballad. Rania had been a fool not to take her as an apprentice… could that slut Jastira do this? Could she weave a summoning this grand?
Of course, Elira wasn’t doing it alone. A dozen other elves chanted with her, a mix of men and women, but the bulk of the effort came from her, she was sure. She was the one to lead them, the one who knew the spell… the others followed her lead. Soon she would have summoned elemental beings from the outer planes, the ancient servants of the elvish people, and she would turn them on the invading drow armies. She would be the one to drive the armies back… and then Rania would be forced to admit that she was wrong about summoning magic, that it was useful, that she was strong.
The door burst open. The drow! They had gotten in! Her guards must all be dead by now… no matter. Even as the killing started, Elira focused, hardening her will. As summoners died in their circles, it became harder but the spell was so close to complete now… she held it together with sheer will, gripping onto the summoning, channeling it, trying to tune out the screams of the dying.
Exhilaration filled her as she felt her call be answered. The the ground shuddered beneath the floorboards and brilliant light filled the room… and then four being stood in the center of the room. There were featureless pillars of energy… a glowing sphere of Fire, a rumbling pile of Earth, a bubbling fountain of Water, and a nearly invisible swirling column of air. Four elementals… and she had called them.
Elira looked around. Of the elves that had begun this summoning with her, only four were left. It would be enough. “I will remember you, brothers and sisters,” she said nobly, smiling at the hesitant drow. “Kill them!”
The elementals didn’t move.
A tiny trickle of panic filled her. “Kill them!” she commanded. The elementals began to move… just a tiny twitch in the direction of the drow… then they froze again. Only then did Elira notice it… a second set of threads weaving through the spell she had woven, fighting for control. A will fighting against hers for control. It shoved at her, pressed hard enough at her that the blonde elf actually leaned back. So strong…
“Pathetic!” a cold voice snarled as one drow pushed through the rest. He wore black clothing and silver jewelry, his white hair seeming to glow in the reflected light of the fire elemental. “I thought I sensed someone strong!” he spat out. “Someone worthy! Instead I find a group of children playing with the toys of their betters… too stupid to know better than to call up beings against someone so weak. Trying to use summoning in war… are you desperate or a fool?”
The drow wizard took several more steps forward, and three of the four elementals flinched away from him. Only the water did not, held by Elira’s desperate will. “I had hoped I found someone worthy of taking as a pet. Instead I find corpses.” He looked over the four elementals in the middle of the room… now his servants. “Kill them,” he ordered.
Three of the four immediately surged forward. Neslaika, Yttri, and Rasham barely had time to scream before Earth, Wind, and Fire were upon them. Elira could see it. Neslaika was buried beneath an avalanche of Earth as it crushed her to the floor with the snap of breaking bone and a brief, aborted cry. Seconds later, she could see blood oozing out from beneath the mass of stones and dirt. Yttri opened her mouth to scream, and Wind flew directly into her mouth. Her eyes wide with panic, the dark haired elf tried to stumble out of the room, and at a gesture from the wizard the soldiers let her go. She didn’t make it all the way into the hallways before she simply exploded, the spinning vortex of wind ripping her apart from the inside. The two of them died with barely a sound, but Rasham had all the time in the world to scream as fire coursed over her. Her clothing went up like a torch, and her hair caught fire a bare instant later. Her screams were horrible as her eyes popped in the heat, fat bubbling from beneath her skin as she was boiled alive in her skin by the heat of the elemental. Finally, after what felt like forever to Elira, her screams stopped… and the only sound was the crackling of cooking flesh.
She stared at the remaining elemental, desperately fight for control of Water. He… couldn’t… do this. He… was… hers…
The drow wizard glanced at the water elemental… and Elira felt her will snap like it was a spiderweb in a door, brushed aside as effortlessly as a swipe of a hand. She gasped as she felt herself lose completely control of the spell, felt it ripped away from her by the dark skinned wizard in front of her. “Useless,” he growled… and Water rushed at her.
Elira clasped her hands over her mouth to stop the scream, but the elemental didn’t care – to her horror it simply poured into her through every other opening. It soaked through her clothing and into her cunt and ass. It poured through her nose and down into her lungs and stomach both. Despite her struggling, despite her attempts to mentally command the elemental to obey, Water filled her insides completely. It felt like every inch of her was filled, every hole stuffed full… like the elemental was trying to force even more of itself into her through every pore, through her ears, through her belly button, through her urethra… every single gap in her skin felt like it was being fucked at once.
As she was simultanously drowned and battered to death, she noticed the wizard had his cock out and was slowly stroking it. He was looking for a slave… he had said so. She tore off her clothing, exposing her breasts to the glow of Fire and offering herself to the wizard as much as she could… and he laughed. “You? You think I want something as worthless as you? No, this is for them…” He gestured, and with her darkening vision Elira could see Fire, Earth, and Air… kneeling on the ground. Earth’s skin was darker and rough than Neslaika’s ever had been but otherwise Earth was now the elf woman’s splitting image. Yttri’s entirely body seemed gossamer as Air took her form, her hair like lightning blowing in the breeze over nearly transparent skin. and Rasham looked almost normal, save for the glow of flame rising from beneath her skin and behind her eyes. The woman had once had flaming red hair, but now that hair was literally flame, blowing in the breeze of Air next to her.
The three elementals rested on their knees, their hands held behind their bodies as they presented naked forms to the wizard. “At least you managed to do something right, you worthless surface whore,” the wizard mocked. “You brought us some interesting cunt. For that, I’ll let Water look like you as she gets raped… its the closest to being worthy of me that you will ever get.”
As Elira dropped to the ground, the lights behind her eyes long faded, Water poured out of her. Guided by Koszar’s will, she took the form of the beautiful blonde elf entirely in shades of blue and green, rapidly churning water giving her body hard, touchable surfaces. Koszar couldn’t tell if those were tears on her face from what he had made the elemental do or if Water was just leaking… he hoped it was the former. He looked at the other drow. “Have fun with them,” he said dismissively. As the crowd of drow fell onto the four helpless elementals, eager to find out how unique their holes would feel, Koszar sighed and walked from the mansion. At least this hadn’t been a complete waste of time… but there was still work to do.
The smell of smoke didn’t even register to Raeshi Tunglye… she was far too used to it. The master blacksmith pumped the bellows, heating her forge hotter and hotter with each pump. It was exhausting work, and most had told her that it wasn’t fit work a woman… over the last hundred years she had proved them all wrong. Her body wasn’t lean like most elves… she wasn’t bulky or strong like a warrior, but her limbs were tight and chorded with muscle, her fingers delicate and gifted from their skill at creating, and if she sweat heard in her workshop it was more from the heat than the exertion.
When the drow had come into her workshop, she had fought at first. She was as strong as any of them, stronger than most, but she didn’t know how to fight. She resisted strongly enough that she almost knocked one of the drow into her forge. He had caught himself, but his face had been burned where it had struck the side. If she were a man, they would have rammed one of their swords into her guts… but unfortunately for Raeshi, she wasn’t. And while she fought bravely with one of her larger hammers, eventually one of the drow smashed her in the back of the head with an unforged iron rod, and she dropped like an ingot to the floor.
When she woke up, two of the drow were working her forge while a third, the one with the burned face, held her down. Seeing others using her forge, her tools, bothered her nearly as much as the pounding in her head. It took her a few moment to realize she was naked and the burned drow was roughly squeezing her tits one after the other. “I am going to make you wish you had never been born,” he whispered into her ear, his burned face pressed against the side of hers.
As the drow pulled a pair of manacles out of her forge with tongs, seeing them glowing crimson with heat, Raeshi could tell he was as good as his word. He held her in place, the struggling elf screaming as she felt the heat of the manacles… creams that became horrific shrieks as her skin began to sizzle beneath them. The drow showed her no mercy, however… they sealed them around her before letting her to her feet, to desperately try and struggle her way out of the metal driving her mad as it scorched her flesh
Raeshi thrashed around furiously, almost unthinking, the agony in her arms and wrists as she screamed herself raw and hoarse. She had no rational thought, no ability to think about anything but the burning pain and trying to get away from it, even thought it was impossible… they stopped her if she randomly started to scramble towards the exit, but otherwise they let her desperately flop around until it got boring. Then they dunked both her shackles, and her face, into one of the quenching barrels before beginning to rape her.
The first one had his fun fun while couldn’t breath, but it was just a start… by the time her ass was leaking cum, she had been dumped onto the ground to gasp and sob. Her voice was gone, her throat clearly damaged, but the shackles were merely hot enough to be agonizing against her burned skin rather than torturous… Raeshi lay on the ground, sobbing brokenly and wishing for death. Then the drow showed her what they had been doing in the meantime. Her anvil now glowed orange with the heat of the flames and she sobbed harder, knowing they intended to make her suffer with it somehow.
The burned one was named Danin, and he took pleasure in holding her hands down against the anvil and hearing them sizzle as fresh nerves died. Then he took her hammer and one by one broke every one of the master artisan’s strong, skilled fingers, smashing them flat as he put her tool to be a more satisfying, and gruesome, use than she could have imagined.
Then he gripped the back of her back and shoved her down on the anvil by her tits.
Raeshi didn’t think she could scream anymore, not after watching her hands been destroyed, not after the shackles, but she surprised herself. The sound was more of a pathetic, high-pitched burbling, not loud… but it was a sad, sobbing scream as she felt her tits begin to sear while the second drow raped her. She struggled weakly, but found that the flesh of her breasts had already been stuck to the hot metal. The drow laughed at her pathetic attempts, waiting for her to rip her own skin off in the attempt to flop herself off the anvil and to the ground… before viciously pushing her right back onto the stovetop they had turned her anvil into.
The blacksmith wished that she could die, but her strong, healthy body betrayed her over and over. It held onto life as she was raped over and over. It held onto life as Danin held her face down against the anvil, giving her a burn to match his own. And it held onto life as the drow began to cut off her cooked tits and eat the soft flesh, building up their strength so they could rape her again.
Raeshi was a mute, cum-soaked wreck by the time they were finished with her, her beautiful, prized body turned into an absolute ruin. She still lived, despite her best efforts to do otherwise. Danin still worked on her forge, making new bonds for her… sloppily, the least skillful things ever made at her forge, but they would do. Hollow eyed, the elf didn’t even react as the band was wrapped around her torso and then nailed and welted into place against her hot forge. She wept and whined as she was further burned by the heat… but then blinked in surprise as Danin just spat into her face before pushing the quenching barrel close enough that her bound, mutilated hands could dip into it.
“Have a nice life,” he mocked her… then he and his fellow soldiers turned and left.
Raeshi didn’t know what was going on, when they were going to be back to rape her more, to kill her. It took until the forge burned out and finally grew cold and that she realized that they… or anyone else… weren’t going to be coming back for her. There was was water aplenty nearby – if she was willing to sip it off her mangled palms – but no food at all.
Even through her exhausted, pained brain, she understood. The water was there to torment her. It was a temptation. She was pitifully aware of it, of how badly her parched throat already wanted it… but if she drank, she would only be prolonging her life towards a more painful death… longer if her desperate, addled mind gave in further to temptation and she didn’t start eating what little was left of her own cooks breasts.
It would be better to die parched in a day or two… she knew that.
But she was so thirsty…
Maybe just one sip?
Burolia Sargwyn and her daughter, Loreleia, had just arrived at the city marketplace when the invasion reached them. The attractive older elf and her alluring offspring witnessed a fair number of vicious atrocities before the soldiers turned their attention on them. Burolia made an attempt to defend her daughter from the soldiers, but her efforts were short lived. Her top was torn open, breasts bouncing into clear view, before she was dragged out of the way and her shrieking daughter was converged upon. The younger elf screamed and flailed as soldiers moved in around her and tore at her clothing, stripping her down to her shoes. The pair were herded together, forced over to a large wooden barrel filled with water.
Mother and daughter were bent over either side of the barrel, facing each other. Burolia’s skirt was torn away, her underwear dragged down to her ankles. Sword tips were put to the backs of their necks to ensure the women didn’t cause any trouble as their legs were pulled apart, loins left helpless. Loreleia sobbed and begged her mother to save her while Burolia did her best to give her daughter what she desired, pleading with the soldiers to do what they liked with her, but to spare her offspring. The drow played with their terrified minds as well as their doomed bodies, teasing Burolia with the possibility of earning her daughter’s prolonged existence.
“We’re only taking one of you,” the drow ordered. “I’ll only be taking one of you. One of you gets to earn an existence being packed full of cum for the rest of her life. The other… well, the other also gets to get packed full of cum for the rest of her life. The only difference is, her life ends today. If you don’t want me to kill your daughter…” his eyes glittered. “Kiss her. Give us a show.”
Her eyes wide with horror, Burolia leaned forward and kiss her… just a miniscule peck of the lips. The soldier pressed the tip of his blade harder into Loreleia’s neck, making it perfectly clear that that wasn’t going to be close to enough. Feeling sick, Burolia tried again, stuffing her tongue into her daughter’s mouth. When even that performance was found lacking, the soldier growled and shoved Loreleia’s head into the barrel, deep beneath the surface of the water.
“No, please!” Burolia shrieked, squirming against the soldier behind her and earning a deep cut along the back of her neck. “I can do better! Just don’t hurt my baby, please!”
Loreleia was pulled back out of the barrel. She coughed and sputtered water from her mouth, blinking and sobbing. “Mother…” she gasped. “Save me!”
“We have to kiss, child,” she instructed through her tears. “Like lovers.”
Loreleia didn’t like the idea, but she was too terrified to refuse. When her mother leaned in to kiss her deeply a second time, she did her best to kiss back with as much passion as she could muster. The pain in her neck lessened slightly, but she could already feel trickles of blood creeping through her hair and down her back. The drow cock stuffing her cunt hurt worse, the size of it stretching her out, hammering against her cervix. She gasped as her mother’s face was pulled away, leaving her to kiss air for a moment.
“Well done, bitch,” the drow fucking Burolia growled into her ear. “I guess we should give you what you want, huh?”
Before Burolia could reply, the drow forced her head into the barrel. Water splashed over the rim. The older elf woman managed to catch half a breath before her dunking. The fleshy spike hammering into her from behind quickened its strokes. Her ability to hear was muted, but she made out her daughter’s panicked screams, now begging the drow to spare her mother’s life. Burolia closed her eyes and tried to gather enough courage to quicken her demise, expel her air and suck down the water. The quicker she died, the less time Loreleia would have to undo the work she’d done to keep her safe. She’d heard the rumors spreading about what the drow had done to the small town they’d invaded before arriving at Soleila. They’d taken captives. She doubted that fate would be much better than dying a relatively quick death, but she had to believe that as long as her daughter lived, there was at least a chance that she could be rescued. Her chest ached from the stale air she had trapped inside her lungs, making it easier for her to give in. She offered her daughter the only thing she had left – a silent prayer – before parting her lips and allowing the air to come bubbling out of her. Then she breathed in deeply and felt a new kind of terrible pain as her body fought instinctively against the imminent drowning.
As she watched the bubbles rising to the surface of the barrel and her mother’s body began to buck wildly against the soldier raping her, Loreleia’s panic intensified. “Please! She’s done nothing wrong! Leave her alone!” She squirmed against the man holding her down, ignoring the deeper cut in her neck that resulted. “Let her live, I beg you! Take what you like from me, but let her live!” Her sobbing overwhelmed her, taking away her words momentarily as she watched her mother’s struggles slackening.
The drow humping into Burolia slowed his gyrations as he felt the woman’s death spasms rolling through her cunt walls. “Bad news, girlie,” he mocked the daughter. “Your mother’s gone.”
“No!” Loreleia screamed, her eyes fixed on her mother’s corpse, seeing nothing more than the occasional twitch run through the body. “She’s still moving! She’s still alive! Pull her out, please! She’s not dead yet!”
The soldier knew better but he was more than happy to show the young elf how wrong she was. He tugged Burolia’s head free from the bucket, giving Loreleia a clear view of her mother’s slack face and vacant eyes, water draining from her gaping mouth. “You sure about that, girlie?” he asked with a laugh. He gave the dead elf’s head a shake. “How alive does she look now?” Loreleia sobbed fitfully, her tortured mind still trying to deny the reality of what she was looking at. The soldier hooked a hand around Burolia’s chin and twisted her head hard, snapping her neck. “How about now?” Satisfied that the young elf was thoroughly broken, he dropped Burolia’s head back into the barrel and resumed his spirited thrusts into the woman’s corpse.
“Alright, your turn,” the drow behind Loreleia announced.
The young elf’s panic shifted gears in an instant. “But, wait!” she shrieked. “You said – “ Her final protest ended in a splash as her head was forced into the barrel alongside her dead mother. Loreleia’s struggles were magnificent compared to Burolia’s. The younger elf had no reason to accept her end. The horror of it all was a good enough motivator, but beyond that, it was the unfairness of her fate that truly made her fight with everything she had. The back of her head knocked against the back of her mother’s head, giving her little room to shift inside the cramped barrel. Still, she could shift side to side relatively easily, back and forth maybe an inch or so, but the one direction she desperately wanted to move in was denied her thanks to the drow soldier’s powerful grip. Her head pounded and her lungs strained. The rapid thudding her heartbeat filled her ears. Her mind flashed with thoughts of her mother, of the fruit she’d planned on buying at the market today, of the cute farmer boy she’d been flirting with off and on – now dead and slumped over his display of fresh produce with his guts mingling with the apples. In the end, the rapid flashing of memories and hopes was obliterated by smothering agony and encroaching oblivion.
Loreleia’s spirited flailing continued right until a sudden end. When the young elf’s life finally blinked out, her muscles were tense and resisting – still straining to pull her head free of the barrel. Then nothing, her muscles loose and limp. The drow snuff-raping her kept her head shoved into the barrel for a few minutes longer, suspecting a trick. But Loreleia’s body remained inert, offering not even so much as a twitch. Finally dragging the soggy head free, the drow confirmed the girl’s death, snapping her neck with a quick and practiced move. Then he dropped her head back into the barrel and resumed fucking the corpse.
When the sun had risen this morning, Dreisha had risen with it. The bark of her tree, rough to others, had been so comfortable beneath her green skin. Not all people were so civilized as to keep forests within their cities… but the elves were, and the dryad had always been grateful for that. Tiny birds hopped from branch to branch, the wind rustled the leaves, and the steam through her grove gurgled noisily over rocks.
That was why she didn’t hear the screaming until it was far too late.
A half dozen drow invaders game bursting through the trees while she was bathing in the stream. The two groups looked at each other in shock… Dreisha had never seen a dark elf before, and couldn’t imagine what one would be doing here… much less six with bloody weapons. For the invader’s part, they hadn’t been expecting to see a naked, green-skinned woman waiting for them… but they had known precisely what to do.
Dreisha wasn’t a fighter – she had no chance to resist as they swarmed her, shoving her naked body beneath the stream and silencing her screams to bubbles. A second later, she had a second reason to scream as a cock forced her cunt open, pounding her into the mud and silt beneath the surface of the water as she slowly began to drown. They didn’t let her die, however – the soldier occasionally let her get a breath, enough that she was still alive when he came in her… and when the next soldier did, and the next, and the next. She had just enough air to notice the streamer of crimson floating through the stream… blood seeping into the water from dying in the pillaged city.
By the time they were finished, her skin had largely be scraped off on her back by the hard rocks beneath the surface but there was no other sign of her abuse… the running water had washed the cum away. It was almost a relief when they took her out… especially when she saw they were returning her to her tree.
Then she saw the axes.
Each cut into the tree left bloody gouges in Dreisha’s skin as well… she screamed, writhing in agony on the floor as they cut many of her branches off. It felt like having hers arms and legs chopped off, over and over and over again. Compared to that, it didn’t feel that bad when someone started shoving one of her tree’s branches up her ass… at first.
She found that she could still feel it… even cut from her tree, the branch was still a part of her. As the drow raped her ass with it, she could feel it both ways… feel her ass squeezing it and feel it tearing her apart. And they wouldn’t stop, just wouldn’t stop, no matter how she wailed. When her body began to break she was already out of breath to scream, already out of tears to cry as the cock ripped into her. She screamed anyway. Dreisha released a shriek of epic proportions as the hard wood ripped out of even the tender socket of her ass, one slow in at a time, and she continued to scream out the agony as it went further and further.
The dryad’s legs kicked wildly through the air and her fists beat against the drow holding her, hoping to make them let her go. She felt her hips dislocate to make room for the branch… and all the while she could feel how impossibly tight her own insides were on it. Tears of sap streaked freely down her cheeks as Dreisha’s eyes bulged from their sockets, the dryad’s traumatized mind going completely insane as she suffered the anguish of having her guts and stomach raped by a piece of herself.
Dreisha’s slim stomach bulged outward as the branch moved further. She could see a bulge between her breasts, and her gut looked pregnant… a second later she coughed up blood, and then horribly she felt it coming up her throat, up into her face, out her mouth… tasting her ass and blood and ruined body on its length as it scrubbed her tongue raw with the bloody bark.
Then, once she was fully impaled, the drow worked together to heave her back up into the boughs of her tree. She was still alive, somehow… still alive, even in agonizing impalement… even unable to move for the pain. But she was alive, and they were leaving her alone.
Dreisha thought that right up until she smelled the smoke as they set her precious grove of trees on fire. It took her tree more than an hour to burn down… and she felt every second.
Ilsevel Kelbanise had a distinctive pep in her stumble as she made her way back to the little hideout she called home. It had been a splendidly long night of plying her trade, drinking and laughing and seducing her way through more than a dozen inebriated pub patrons, lightning them of their valuables as she went along. The buzz of alcohol was fading, leaving behind a pervasive sleepiness. She decided she could tally up all the loot she’d swiped later on. The first thing she was doing when she arrived at the little secret hovel was passing out. When the drow soldiers reached her section of town, she wasted a few precious moments blinking slowly at the advancing troops, struggling to figure out if what she was looking at was real or just a lingering aftereffect of that glowing tonic the apothecary had slipped her at the start of the previous night.
By the time Ilsevel convinced her brain to believe what she was seeing, the soldiers were nearly on her. She turned and sprinted away, her frantic mind coming up with a simple plan. Make it to her hideout. She had supplies there, enough to live off of for a little while. The elven authorities had never been able to find the place. She hoped the drow would have similar issues. She just needed to put enough distance between herself and her pursuers to avoid them seeing her secret entrance. As tired as she was, Ilsevel focused entirely on running, ducking into the narrow alleyway where the route to her hideaway began.
Racing to the end of the alleyway, Ilsevel crouched and pried open the false wall concealing the passage. She threw herself inside and tugged the covering back into place, hoping that in her haste she hide her bolt hole well enough to remain undetected. The thief didn’t bother waiting around to confirm, crawling her way through the narrow tunnel. She’d just rounded a corner when she heard the covering being tugged aside and the sound of the drow soldiers chasing after her into the tunnel system. She let out a frustrated sob and crawled faster. Pulling herself into her hideout, Ilsevel felt only the smallest bit of relief, certain that the enemy would be meeting here there shortly. The drow soldiers found Ilsevel backed into the far corner of her hideout, clutching a hilariously small dagger in her shaking hands. The second she saw them, she flung the weapon aside and lifted her hands into a placating sign of surrender. “Wait, please!” she gasped, panic in her eyes. “Think about this. I’ve been prowling this city since I was a kid. I can help you, right? If you take over the city, you’re going to need informants. I can get into and out of anywhere outside of the castle. I can keep an eye on the other elves, let you know if any of them plan to cause any trouble.” Seeing her words were having little effect on the soldiers, she shifted tactics.
“Do you need proof of how valuable I could be for you?” she asked, pulling her heavy loot sack up and opening it. She pulled out the goods she’d swiped the previous night. Necklaces of gold and silver, rings embedded with precious stones, so many coins of varying denominations. “This was just from a single night,” she told them. “I have more here. I could steal for you. Invasions can’t be cheap, right? You need some way to fund your efforts. Let me help, huh?” She offered the stone-faced soldiers a hopeful smile. “You see, yes? You see how valuable I am? I get to live now?”
Nalas Noqurret, the leader of the squad who’d chased Ilsevel into her hovel frowned. “Never trust a thief, boys,” he growled. “They’re only ever really interested in helping themselves.”
“No, but I’m not like other – “ Ilsevel started, yelping as Nalas stepped forward and smacked her sack of goods from her hand. “Please, just let me prove – “ The soldier cut off her words a second time, closing his fingers around her throat and tugging her away from the wall. He threw her down onto the small bed she’d made for herself in the hideout, the tangles of sheets dirty and stained. He kept her pinned there by the throat as the others moved in to tug away the thief’s clothing. Glaring down into her terrified eyes, Nalas reached back to snag the dropped loot bag. With her short, spiky brown hair and pale green eyes, she had a pixie-like look about her. Certainly cute. But he had no interest in fucking her. He left that to his men, who happily climbed on top of Ilsevel and started to ram their pricks into her bared cunt.
Scooping up a handful of the coins from the thief’s pack, Nalas sorted through them, starting with the smallest coins first. He loosened his grip on her throat as he pushed one of the small coins past her lips. He forced her mouth to close and pinched her nose shot, forcing her to swallow. “Let’s see how much of a taste for thievery you truly have,” he growled, grabbing two of the smallest coins and dumping them into Ilsevel’s mouth. The terror and pain in her eyes as she strained to swallow, again and again as more and more coins were deposited into her mouth, amused him greatly. When he realized he was out of coins to feed her, Nalas had to admit that the young thief had found a way to impress him. He reached his free hand down, sliding it between her and her current rapist, to grab at her belly and give it a firm shake. “Are you jingling yet?” If he dug his fingers in hard enough, he thought he could feel the solid mass of the pile of coins stuffing her stomach. “Don’t worry, you will be soon.”
With no more coins to feed Ilsevel, Nalas moved on to the rings. His admiration for her ability to suffer for him was nearly ruined as she strained to swallow the first one, her aching throat finding it difficult to handle the larger, awkwardly shaped obstruction. Her face was flushed and sweaty by the time she finally managed to gulp down the ring, coughing afterwards. The blood that crept onto her lips told him that her throat had suffered a few cuts from the ring’s more jagged edges. Her struggles and the damage she’d endured didn’t stop him from forcing a second ring into her mouth. She took that one easier. The ring was smaller, smoother, and her throat had grown a little more accustomed to take the inedible material. Nalas didn’t give her long between fresh insertions to gasp for fresh air. The flow was steady, the only pauses due to Ilsevel’s strained efforts to gulp down the larger rings. When the rings were finally gone, Nalas could feel definite bulging in the thief’s gut. He gave it a few hard squeezes, delighting in the whines of pain she emitted as the lump of coins and rings jabbed at her innards.
Ilsevel shook her head as much as she could, tears draining from her eyes, as Nalas held up the first necklace. He replied with a cruel laugh. “Don’t try to tell me your full,” he said. “We both know thieves never get full. They’re always hungry for more.” The first necklace was simple enough, just a thin gold chain, but it presented Ilsevel with a new form of obstacle to contend with. Her scratched and bloody throat strained to clench and swallow around the thin length of metal, having to swallow hard to draw the jewelry into her body an inch at a time. Her progress was undone as, halfway down, she gagged so hard she expelled the portion she’d managed to swallow. Nalas did not relent, feeding the saliva-soaked necklace back into her mouth.
The thief’s gut throbbed, clogged with so much inedible material. Her throat was a swollen passage of raw nerves and tattered flesh. Her cunt ached from the repeated penetrations she’d taken, leaking a steady flow of cum out onto the bed between her thighs. Her mind had gone dull, surrounded by misery and operating automatically, praying for an end. The sight of the glimmering ruby amulet snapped her back into awareness. She remembered the grab well, likely one of the most profitable items she’d managed to lay her hands on. The ruby was huge, nearly the size of a fist. It looked even larger as Nalas forced the gem down into her mouth. He had no need to pinch her nose shut this time. The ruby was more than large enough to block her throat completely, demanding that she either swallow the thing or die.
Ilsevel tried, very hard, to force the massive ruby down her throat. The blood coating the walls of her throat helped to lubricate the gem, making it possible for her to get the thing a little ways down. The front of her throat bulged around the ruby, allowing Nalas to watch its progress. Ilsevel’s eyes bulged, face shifting to a dark shade of red as she kept on trying to swallow. Her mouth gaped open, the heavy chain of the amulet draped across one drool-soaked cheek. Ilsevel managed to get the ruby most of the way down her throat before her body gave out on her. Her gagging efforts faded into weakening gurgles as her pale green eyes grew dim. Her limp body rocked beneath the drow currently pumping into her now dead sex.
Nalas shook his head and tossed the mostly empty loot sack aside. “And just like every other thief that’s ever existed, your eyes were bigger than your stomach,” he mocked, finally pulling his hard cock free. “Let me help you with that.” He climbed onto her chest and grabbed a fistful of her spiky hair, tilting her head forward so he could fuck his way into her mouth. A few vigorous thrusts managed to jam the ruby the rest of the way down Ilsevel’s throat, but by that time, she was well beyond the point of needing to breathe. He fucked the dead thief’s face hard, draining his aching balls down her gullet to baste the collection of valuables clogging her stomach.
Talanashta Keahana had arrived in Soleila only a day before the drow attack, finishing another circuit of her merchant route through a variety of near – and not so near – towns. She’d been eager to spend a week in the city, resupplying, resting, and selling off the goods she had which could not be found locally. The drow soldiers found her sleeping in the back of her merchant wagon. Her pleasant dreams became a waking nightmare as rough hands grabbed and groped her. Her eyes snapped open and she let out a scream as the obsidian faces came into focus above her. Clad in only a pair of panties, it didn’t take the soldiers long to strip Talanashta. They had her bent over the chest where she kept her earnings a moment later, screaming as her asshole was violated for the first time.
Moments after the cum filled her bowels and her sphincter was left stretched and gaping, the rough hands returned, pulling the merchant up and flinging her back against the wagon’s wall. Her back smashed the shelf of goods there and she fell amidst her pile of merchandise. Two more drow moved in on her fast, one wrenching her legs up and apart so he could squeeze his way into her pussy while the other stepped in front of her and silenced her panicked yelling with his stiff meat. The cock pumped through her lips, gagging her again and again. The speedy thrusts of the drow between her thighs stirred a humiliating pleasure deep inside her. Talanashta closed her eyes and tried to ignore the sensation.
By the time the cock inside her burst, layering the walls of her pussy in creamy warmth, her efforts prove to be in vain. The muscular tremors working their way out from her crotch left her bathed in shame. When the drow standing before her withdrew his spent prick, her head rolled to the side, groaning and drooling jizz over her chin. She coughed up some more of the spunk as she was rolled over again, forced to remain perched on her hands and knees as another drow took his shot at her upraised ass. Talanashta doubted there was any hope for rescue. If such a sizable drow force had managed to breach the walls of the city and they weren’t engrossed in an ongoing battle, it meant the city had already fallen. She and others like her were only the start of the victory celebration.
With her wagon providing a sense of privacy that only a few of the other assaults transpiring around Soleila could boast about, the road outside the wagon became crowded with soldiers eager to duck inside and fuck what was left of the merchant. It was well into the afternoon by the time it was decided that Talanashta was too stretched out and used up to provide much more entertainment. Her wagon soon became a point of very different celebration as lit oil lanterns were chucked into it. The drow soldiers cheered and laughed as the wagon burned, the sight of the cum-soaked merchant flailing and screaming within as her skin was charred and her blood boiled. When the fire finally died down, the only thing left of Talanashta was an ash-coated, blackened skeleton.
With no army to defend them, a handful of the cityfolk banded together to defend their city. They did not last long, butchered with such brutality that many of the would-be defenders ran screaming from the fray, only to be quickly caught and painfully killed.
Huethea Jostina was snatched into the powerful grip of Turot. The ogre gave the flailing woman a yellow-toothed grin before clenching his hand around her. The elf’s eyes bulged before shooting free from their sockets. A geyser of gore erupted from her mouth while another shot from her crotch as the pulped remnants of organ and bone struggled to find space for themselves. The ogre flung the corpse aside, leaving Huethea’s body horribly mangled, chest and waist crushed into a thin length of twisted and torn flesh clinging to her spine.
Lyra Torstina hit the ground hard, sobbing and screaming as she stared down at the axeblade embedded in her chest. She howled as her attacker pried the weapon free, leaving behind a deep gouge running the length of her cleavage. The muscular orc dropped onto her, squeezing his thick fingers into the wound before flexing outwards. With a series of snaps and cracks, Lyra’s rib cage was ripped upwards and peeled back, exposing her lungs, heart, and other insides to the orc. Lyra’s screaming faded into desperate gasps as the orc tore her heart free, sheathing his cock through a still-spurting artery. In her final moments of terrible life, the elf watched others move in and rip away her organs, using them in whatever perverse way they could find.
Tarasynora Farsandoral was well aware of the fact that everyone else in her group of courageously stupid townsfolk was dead. She did her best to ignore it, focusing on the intense swordfight she’d gotten herself into. She’d taken some lessons, had even toyed with the notion of joining the army, which was why the sword moved a bit more skillfully in her hands. The drow soldier was skilled, too. Likely even more skilled than she was. But Tarasynora had one advantage over her opponent. He was distracted. It was clear by the glean in his eyes and the bulge in his pants that the mere sight of her turned him on. Her proficiency with the weapon she wielded seemed to turn him on even more. The woman was certain she would die no matter what the outcome of the fight, but she thought dying would be a little bit easier if she at least got to do it with the knowledge that she’d at least taken one of the bastards with her. So she bided her time, and looked for her opening.
After a few more minutes of playing with the elf, Elkantar Argith decided he’d coaxed about as much fun as he could out of her while she was still alive. Displaying a level of focus he’d denied her up until that point, he easily knocked her blade aside and jammed the tip of her sword into her belly, far enough to pierce her back. He delighted in the shocked gasp she emitted and let the sharp steel remain embedded in her for a moment longer before pulling back. Tarasynora stumbled back, clasping a hand to her bleeding gut while still clutching her sword in other. It was clear she was determined to go on fighting, to find a way to beat him. He kept his distance from her until the blood loss sapped her admirable strength away.
Tarasynora made a last, desperate lunge at Elkantar. As he knocked her weapon aside, her legs dropped out from under her. She landed in a kneeling pose, gasping for air as the pain radiating up from her pierced belly faded a little, replaced with a cold numbness. She glared up at the drow, trying to show him a bit of defiance right up until the end. Her lips parted, a choice insult resting on them, ready to insult the enemy soldier with her last breath. Elkantar denied her that ability, jamming his sword forward and through her open lips. The elf’s eyes widened as the blade pierced the back of her mouth and skewered her skull. Her arms slumped to her sides, body going limp, held up only by the drow’s sword. Yanking the blade free, he cocked it back and swung hard, cleaving Tarasynora’s head from her body as her corpse began to fall. The head flew several feet from the body, landing and rolling in the street as the rest of her slumped forward onto her tits, spurting a weak spray of blood from her severed neck.
While Elkantar rolled the body over and started to strip it, eager to claim his post-mortem domination over the woman, Tarasynora’s head was scooped up and carried to a line of wooden posts the drow had been erecting as they progressed through the city. Her slack face gave off a death twitch as her esophagus was slotted onto the top of a vacant post, left to witness the defilement of her body.
Soleila had all but fallen. Its defenders were all either dead or enslaved and its citizens were joining them in droves as the drow army swarmed through the streets. Resistance would earn nothing but death – at best. In the face of utter annihilation, many of the elves attempted to flee the city, hoping to escape before the worst of fates found them. It was an eventuality that the drow had prepared for.
Velatha Valfir led a small pack of escapees. She’d always been quick-footed. She hoped that athletic trait would be enough to save her when it really counted. She held back her speed only a little, not wanting to get too far ahead of the others, three other elven women she’d run into during her twisting journey towards the border of the city. Taenya Brybella, Barinda Revgolor, and Roshia Lialana were even more terrified than she was, making Velatha their de facto leader. She didn’t much like the responsibility, but she was far too eager to escape Soleila to argue about it.
Velatha didn’t see the tripwire until she was stumbling over it. Instinct kicked in, giving her the speed necessary to throw herself clear of the trap. Her trio of followers weren’t so lucky. A thick-roped net sprang up from the street, scooping the women into a jumbled heap and hefting them several feet into the air. The women screamed out their fright and then screamed for Velatha to help them. She froze, looking up at the snared women, a selfless part of her screaming for her to go back, try to loosen the net so they could slip free. But the selfish realist side of her mind insisted there was no time to help. She could already hear the trudging steps of an advancing squad of drow soldiers.
Mumbling out her apologies, Velatha turned and darted to a narrow, flat passage leading from the street down into the sewer system beneath the city. She dropped low and jammed her upper body through the intake, wincing as her breasts were mashed flat against her ribs. Kicking her boots against the street, the frantic elf forced herself through and into the foul-smelling sewer beyond, earning herself a few scrapes and bruises along the way. She tumbled in a disjointed manner, managing to turn in time to avoid bashing her skull against the muck-smeared stone of the sewer tunnel. Ignoring the splatters of filth that soaked into her clothes, Velatha sprang to her feet. She could still hear the others screaming. Guilt demanded her to do something, but the best she could manage was to stretch up to peek through the intake port and watch, a hand clamped over her mouth to keep her own scream contained.
The drow soldiers had reached the narrow street, laughing at and mocking their catch. The three snared women continued to scream and beg, but Velatha was certain it would do them no good. Her suspicions were confirmed a moment later as the soldiers surrounded the suspended net and drew their swords. The screams of terror became screams of pain and death as the drow stabbed their blades into the net and through the women tangled up inside. A drizzle of hot blood poured from the net, spattering over the street below. The swords cut through the ropes as easily as they cut through elven flesh. Before long, the net was too cut up to support the weight of three grown women. Their bloody bodies spilled free, falling into a heap across the street. Taenya and Baerinda were already dead. Roshia sobbed and tried to squirm free from the tangle of lifeless limbs weighing her down. A soldier moved forward, adjusting the aim of his weapon. She lifted a hand to the man, sputtering out a plea for mercy. He jammed the blade of his sword into the side of his neck. With a flick of his wrist, he opened Roshia’s jugular, the last of her blood rapidly spraying out of her.
Velatha backed away from the sewer intake as the bloody carcasses were dragged away. She panted and shuddered, blinking the tears from her eyes. The sight of the butchery left her shocked and horrified, forcing her to take several long minutes to gather her strength. Feeling very tired and even more determined to escape Soleila, the young woman turned and started trudging through the shallow river of waste, following its current out of the doomed city.
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