The tunnels beneath the mountain were no stranger to screams. Every day and every night, they echoed through the passages… hollow and haggard as the dragon’s minions enjoyed their feminine loot. The torment of innocent women echoed down winding passages and earth-hewn grottos like ghostly wails, probing for anyone who cared to hear. Despite that, not even the loudest and most desperate of them were piercing enough to reach the surface. No scream, no matter how frantic, managed to carry its plea for help to the sunlit world above. The tortured women were simply buried too far below... and the pits of Archleon's domains were too numerous and maze-like to ever allow such a miracle.
Not that it would have mattered for Vallistra. Heroic adventurers did not spring to the rescue of creatures such as she. In her tortured screams, they would have doubtless recognized the evil origins beneath her voice, sensing the cursed, fiendish blood in her pain. Maybe they would have thought it a trap set by others of her kind... Or maybe they would have thought it a damned soul crying out from the fires of the Nine Hells in the torment that it justly deserved.
One way or the other, no one would be coming to rescue the tiefling.
"EEEEIIIYYYAAAHHHH!!!" Valista shrieked as the dragon-spawned orc jammed his enormous, swollen cockhead against her bald snatch. These creatures were brutes… they used no finesse or even aim, simply using sheer force to make her swollen socket accept them. "NO MORE! NO MORE PLEASEEEEE-AAAAAHHHHHH!" she desperately pleaded at this latest attack against her already vandalized womanhood.
The malachite fiend was penetrating her from behind, his hands holding her upright showing clearly how much stronger he was than the rogue as he gripped onto her elbow and hips for his leverage. Even if she could have overcome him it would have made no difference. At least a dozen of his savage kind rapaciously thronged around the rape in progress, waiting for their turn. The fact that the door to her iron-barred cell was open didn’t even begin to matter. The bars of the cage did mean that the greenskinned monsters were packed together closer than a mariners barracks as they used her as entertainment.
"GGGGUUUUU--EEEEEHHHHH!!!" she screeched as the fang-toothed Orc socketed her cunt balls-deep. Viscid sperm that had already been dumped into that hole from her previous rapist squished lewdly and aided his passage for him, but it did nothing at all to make the penetration of her sore, swollen hole any less painful. Just like every time, they spread the tight, small tiefling to her breaking point. Vallistra’s whole body quaked with pain, arms, legs, and tail all shaking.
All around her, the other monsters hooped and jeered and licked their grotesque fatty lips in amusement. "WRRAAAAGH!" the orc blared while grounding his engorged cockhead against her bruised, sensitive cervix. "Archleon is a mighty God!" he thundered ceilingwards like a barbaric war cry. "Archleon is almighty, slayer of his enemies and conqueror of the world!"
With his ceremonial libation proclaimed, the orc began pounding with all his power. He slammed his muscular hips into Vallistra's hindquarters with bone-rattling force. Every thrust hauled that enormous shaft back and forth between her labia and her womb, pummeling the Tiefling like his bitch. No matter how much she wailed or protested that it wounded her ladyhole the ferocious green giant kept on plunging in his tool.
Vallistra kept screaming as if enshrouded in the fires of the Nine Hells. Such was the torment of being a Greenskins plaything. The half-demon dragonkin Yandaza had left the room with Maia Thaugindottir, but it was hard to tell how long ago that was… only that it seemed long ago, and that they weren’t going to be coming back. Bereft of the cycles of the heavenly bodies, Vallistra could hardly begin to guess how many days had passed. Vallistra's pain had been so extreme she assumed it must have been a month. However long it had been, it had been long enough that the abandoned tiefling was becoming sure that the dragonspawn sorceress was never coming back to save her from these monsters and their feral rapine.
"GGGGGEEEE!!!" Valista screamed so loudly her horns nearly shook, trashing her head from side to side, reeling from the deep vaginal pain. Her normally crimson pussy had suffered such egregious abuse it had been bruised nearly black. Not only had it been savagely outstretched and torn by their thick green cocks, but the incessant chafing had also roughly bruised every soft membrane. Vallistra felt those hotspots of pain where she had been rubbed down to the nerves burning whenever the musclebound rapist pumped.
"STOP IT! STOP IT PLEEEAAASEEE!" she shouted, her wide, panicking eyes weeping a river of tears.
"Hahahahahaha!" the greenskined monster laughed boisterously even while pumping. "You think we're going to stop raping you just because you beg it? You are an enemy of Lord Archleon! We rape you harder… just to make you beg more, even knowing it won't happen!”
The cruel promise contained in the monster’s words dug into Vallistra's psyche even while she winced from overwhelming hurt. The orc, harebrained and brutish as he was, had articulated the horror of her violation very well. There was no salvation available for the captured adventurer. Her pain was such that she couldn’t stop begging them to stop, but it was only good for their entertainment.
The orc kept battering away at her cervix like he hoped that he could penetrate it. He brutally fucked her for an uncountable passage of time, every pump a buck into the furthest reaches of her quim. Vallistra could feel his cruel cock thrusting so hard her womb wobbled inside of her with each impact, and her spirit sunk further beneath the mountain as she felt his dick start throbbing, signaling its impending urgency to cum. Not long after, was a sharp sting against the back of her cunt as he orgasmed mid-thrust, blasting out thick orcish spunk.
The fallen rogue screamed, the green-muscled bull holding his ejaculating cock stuffed within her tiny violated box.
"Lord Archleon's grace is boundless!" the orc impaling her yelled. "Cry havoc, and honor the Provider of such cunts as these!"
"NNNNOOOOOO!!" Vallistra howled as the vicious gangrape continued with new fresh cocks.
On and on it went, savage brutish rape from each misbegotten greenskin over and over, until Vallistra's cell was turned into her own personal Abyss. Sometimes they violated her individually one at a time, in others as a team, breaking her through innumerable positions as well as vicious triple-penetrations and double-poundings. None of Vallistra's delicate fuckholes were spared. All were reamed open and fucked, sometimes simultaneously, forcing her to feel the monstrous dongs scrubbing together inside her penetrated lower body.
They showed even less respect when it came to jizzing inside her violated hollows. Throughout the course of multiple unspeakable deeds, the tiefling's anus, mouth, and especially her undersized pussy were turned into oozing slime pits of their sloppy spunk. So much spunk was unloaded inside her cunt that Vallistra’s assaulted womb was converted into a veritable container of gunk. Her throat was likewise made hoarse and arid from all the salty sperm dumped down its channel and clinging to the sides as it slowly slid down into her stomach, thoroughly encrusting her throat. Both gullet and gut were made into their sordid, vile cum dumps.
Vallistra quickly began to feel like one of the hay-stuffed dummies which militias use to practice their spear throws and thrusts upon… Without exemption, she was lanced again and again and again. Vallistra screamed, begging them to stop until she could scream no more, but the sex-addicted servants of the dragon never ceased their thrusting. Whatever pleasure could have possibly been produced from this sexual experience was totally eclipsed by the tremendous pain. Vallistra could feel her feminine flesh being practically torn to pieces by the fearsome orc sadists, her holes stressed beyond the point of return by endless, cruel use. The monstrous band laughed at her, humiliated her, belittled her, and mocked her misery more viciously than any human bigot ever had.
Their bellicose cocks were everywhere, endangering her body in their massive engorged state. Nowhere could she spin or turn to get away from them. Since the cell was so close-quarter and fully-stocked she could even feel their fumid breaths blow against her face during the rutting intercourse. The breath was so foul and rotten it was like being inundated by the noxious fumes of some methane swamp.
In the end she was scarcely aware of her surroundings. The pain was eerily disembodied. The orc’s boisterous voices were but laughter ringing inside her head. Vallistra had experienced much hatred and distrust in the outside world, but no civilized prejudice had even begun to prepare her for an inkling of the anguish and despair she suffered at the hands of an endless string of brutal orcs.
Fucked and ravaged to this despondent state, Vallistra didn't even notice when it ended. The pain simply kept humming across her flesh and buzzing inside her head. Her ransacked fuckholes were made into great leaking hollows that proved unable to close, leaking blood and cum in equal measure. Vallistra was left dumped on the earthen floor of her cell alongside whatever pools of sperm and sweat the orcs had shed there.
The horde of celebrating greenskins kept on boisterously cackling as they vacated the room. One by one, they liberated the dungeon of their befouling number, and soon it was completely rid of their evil presence. Only then, after they were all gone, did a new figure slip into the hollow they had abandoned. One lone persona, slimmer and shorter than the fearsome dragon-scaled orcs, clad in metal armor.
Vallistra moaned in blinding anguish, paying no attention as the figure entered her cell… passing behind the iron bars. He elected to stand with the tip of his boots nearly touching the Planeswoman's downcast head as he overlooked her defiled and sperm-besmeared flesh. In spite of this, she didn't notice his presence.
Until the man decided to catch her attention with a kick to her cunt.
"Giiaah!" Vallistra screamed, her whole body twisting in anguish as she curled up, the tiefling’s body crunching together as her hands clutched over her abused groin.
"Satisfied with your carnal frivolity, harlot?" the man barked. “This seems a little much, even for your ilk.”
"W-What?" Vallistra scoffed, focusing her pain-haggard eyes.
"Or maybe not… your holes are still open and waiting for more, I see. I would have thought that bestial orcs could have at last slaked your wanton, fiendish thirsts,” he added. “Perhaps I was wrong."
Vallistra looked up. The room was dark, but she focused, trying to let her eyes catch at the shadows. What she saw caused her eyebrows to furrow in perplexed confusion. She stared with her jaw hanging low… Even her pain was no longer a hindrance. What befuddled the tiefling was pure incredulity and shock. "O-Obren?" she gasped.
The next sound from Vallistra's mouth was a sharp cry as he kicked her again in the cunt. "The same," the Cleric of Helm responded in his flat, judgmental tone. "How fine to find you in your natural condition, Vallistra."
Vallistra was left waggling on the ground while crouched up like a fetus. Despite this overmastering pain, the realization came swiftly to her mind. Obren was no fellow prisoner. The Cleric was clothed in the respectable vestments of his office, not naked and bedraggled like her. This could only mean that he... had betrayed them! Obren! The native of the village! The servant of Helm, the Watcher. How? Why? For what reason?
Such questions were blotted away by overwhelming rage. Vallistra's blood became inflamed with such crimson fury she would have leaped up and clawed his eyes out were it not for the weakness of her ravaged flesh. As it were, the rogue was so weak in the knees she couldn't even stand.
"Traitor!" she barked while still squirming around on the floor, clutching her aching cunt. "Black-dealer!"
"Hardly," Obren grumbled while glaring down at her.
"Traitor!" she repeated… Yet the shouted accusation twitched not a single muscle upon his well-lined face. "Blasphemer!" she added in a desperate attempt to say something that would hurt.
"Oh?" he chuckled while cocking one eyebrow. "The whore thinks she is religious."
"Helm will—"
"You do not speak of Helm." Another kick from his metal boot sharply interrupted her attempt to wound him. "You know nothing, harlot. I remain a devoted Servant of Helm, and not a member of the Great Serpent's cult."
"Liar! You shameless weasel!" she exclaimed.
"You've forgotten your theology, planeborn imp," he retorted while placing hands on hips. "Helm is the Watcher… of duty, and protection. My oath to be kept is to protect the people of my village… not you. By aiding the Dragon's agents, I have done dutifully indeed."
"You... You vile—" she babbled, not finding her words.
"Sacrifice, Vallistra. That is what Archleon desires. Sacrifice... The kind which involves maidens whose virtue is as unstained as pure white. I've witnessed many virgins of my village meet their end to fulfill that want," he narrated, a note of hard gravel entering his voice. "It was necessary, but never just. That women who had retained their purity should suffer such grievously fates for their virtue. It seemed a crime against both Gods and nature every time it occurred. So... I elected to do something about it."
Still floorbound, Vallistra squinted up at him through her wounded grimace as he continued. "Of course... the Great Serpent is still a beast. He cares not from whence the sacrifices spring. So I agreed to retrieve for him fresh specimens," Obren explained before settling his stony hard eyes back upon the Tiefling. "I had hoped that that would be you, Vallistra."
Vallistra growled energetically enough at the Cleric to bare her teeth.
"It would have been a fitting destiny for you," Obren coldly continued. "To sacrifice your devil-spawned flesh for the sake of your betters. Were things to have gone in accordance to plan you would have assumed the place of a virtuous woman inside Archleon's godforsaken pit. No one would have missed a demon-spawned tramp like you. But of course..." he said with an incredulous little chuckle. "I was a stupendous fool for ever even having countenanced that possibility. I had assumed no one would be so foul as to lay with demonspawn. I assumed too good of people. You are no maiden, Vallistra. You are a whore, dirty and tawdry, with naught but your lusts to give your mind purpose and your hollow life meaning."
"Bastard!" she spat at his feet.
"So one of the others had to take your place with the dragon," he concluded. "Luckily, such unspoiled women were within our party. Mayael, I believe, turned out to be the one who has to shoulder that burden. It’s unfortunate that the young she-elf had to meet such a tragic end... She could have done a lot of good in the world still. It should have been you. Still, better her than more suffering for my village.”
"Monster!" Vallistra screamed with even more venom. "Fiend! You- You sacrificed Mayael?"
"I'm not a sadist. I did my duty as a servant of Helm," he responded icily while peering into the earthen walls as if staring into some far distance. "Yes... my oath to Helm has been fulfilled. The village is secured. However, that does leave me the question of what to do with you, Vallistra."
Upon hearing her own name spoken, Vallistra's crimson flesh sparkled with dread. The source of this enfeebling sensation was a yearning to avoid pain. She had been so savagely ravaged by the orcs that every fiber of her being now screamed at her soul to rescue her from further torment. Now, it was Obren who dangled this new danger in front of her. He settled his eyes upon her. The harshness of their fair orbs almost killed her spirit on the spot.
"Perhaps you can be of some use to the village after all," he continued, a hint of a growl in his voice.
"W-What?" she gasped.
"Even debauched harlots have their place in the divine order,” he said, considering. “If only to indirectly help safeguard the virtue of more noble women. Helm knows that every city has whores for the same reason it has sewers. You could serve that role… slaking the thirsts of men. You may know little of Helm, but that is something you should know about."
Though opposite sensations, both hope and trepidation rose within the rogue.
"Archleon and his Dragonspawn have no further uses for you. Vallistra. As such, I'm free to commandeer your flesh were I to wish it. Do you understand what that means, demon woman? You could leave this place behind. Your... partners…” he spat the word as if it tasted foul on his tongue, "would no longer be filthy orcs."
Vallistra nearly rose to her knees as that hope countermanded the trepidation within her. "Y-You mean—? You’ll take me away from here?"
"I'm offering you a whore's redemption, Vallistra," he explained. "Announce yourself as my slave... and I'll put you to use in the way Helm intended for women like you."
Prostitution. The word harbored an inherent disgust for nearly any woman. Yet even while recognizing the dire misery it represented, the idea nevertheless appeared to Vallistra like a shining ray of hope. She would have done anything to save herself from further orc violation. Even... even submitting her flesh to this traitor.
"I- I'll do it!" she snapped. "I- I- I'll do anything!" Vallistra had spoken so eagerly her tongue had stumbled… yet the mien shading Obren's visage at this announcement, the cruelty in that smile, brought her a second thought. The tiefling remembered well what scarcely constrained ire he had displayed towards her promiscuous ways. Obren's loathing for her was red-hot, and his steel-clad boot’s kiss still stung her cunt. There was no way he meant to make her life less than miserable.
Yet... she still trusted his clemency more than the option of being thrown back to the savage orcs again.
"I... I will be your slave, Master," the tiefling whispered.
"What was that?" he pressed, showing his ear. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”
"I will be your slave," she miserably declared while holding back tears, bowing her horned head. "I'll gain my atonement from Helm by... turning into your whore."
The cleric's response was immediate. Without a word further, he dropped his pants and revealed the flesh tool hanging limply between his legs. Obren’s member was nowhere near as big as the orc's massive weapons, but just looking at it and knowing it belonged to a supposed ally was just as repulsive to Vallistra. He certainly wasn’t doing himself any favors by not keeping it any better washed than an itinerant hermit. Smegma and encrusted spunk befouled its head, and not even in her most desperate for affection would she have willingly laid with a man like this.
Of course, she no longer had a choice either.
"Alright. Then suck on this. Show me that that forked tongue of yours truly is devoted," Obren snarled.
Vallistra fought the black urge to go catatonic and rose onto her knees before him. She knew that he wanted her to act like a professional prostitute from the first moment, expecting her to act just like the slut he saw her as and confirm every wretched prejudice he had harbored ever since they met. Despite the wretched aches and exhaustion, she had to give this blowjob her all or confront a fate at the hands of the greenskins that was worthy of the Nine Hells.
She lunged forward, and swallowed him before she could think about what she was doing.
Obren groaned as she swallowed his cockhead into her mouth, unhanded. The wormy thing went in like a sausage. His moan was underpinned by a sensation of victory. "Show me how impure girls behave, demonspawn," he croaked.
Vallistra had seldom been permitted to use any of her talents with the orcs… they had preferred to simply rape her face. Now that she had an opportunity to avoid being suffocated half to death, she jumped on it with desperate passion, using every bit of experience she had. The tiefling knew how to suck a dick… her fellatio was as immediately diligent as it was adroit. Using her dexterous tongue, she pushed the head of his dick upwards, rubbing it against the soft palate of her mouth even as the tongue caressed the bottom. Rubbed between those points of tension, the uncouth organ quickly hardened, growing fat inside her lips. Soon Vallistra's mouth was forced to stretch to seal around its circumference, and then she could really start sucking, pushing her velvety lips into the dickmeat while steadily bobbing her neck backward and forwards.
"Hmmhmm," Obren moaned, cooing like a child given candy. He was enjoying this… and Vallistra couldn’t afford to think about that. The red-skinned girl kept her eyes open and directed up at him at all times, mirroring the techniques that she had performed with her myriad of lovers. Normally, her eyes were supposed to be bottomless wells of smoldering arousal. However, bloodshot, rheumy-eyed, and roughhoused by the vicious greenskins, the tiefling could only succeed in looking defiled.
Thankfully, it appeared that that was precisely what Obren wanted from her. To the cleric of Helm, the look of defeat upon Vallistra's whorish face amplified his sensation of victory. "It's always those evil in words who are also the most talented in dirty deeds," he sleazily philosophized while she fellated his cock. "As if the harlot's mouth is subtly revealing its true character. You, Vallistra, must be as wicked as your parents."
Vallistra's eyebrows knitted at this lewd comment. Her parents were innocent… whatever demonic blood had entered her family had done so much further back than that. Hearing this sort of cruel, hurtful ‘praise’ was the last thing she wanted. Just a moment later, however, Obren's right hand flew for her face, smashing across her cheek hard enough that her head swam. "But that's not why you're here, remember!?" he brusquely scoffed. "You're here for atonement — not your personal pleasure, whore!” The cleric’s voice was a furious growl. “ I expect a yeoman's whoredome out of you, demon cunt! You're going to suck on my cock like a laborer. Suck on it as if the sperm inside my balls is the only thing which can bring your cursed kind to salvation."
Vallistra took the commands to heart. While her head still buzzed with hurt from the blow, she began tossing her horned skull against the human's pecker with bellicose force. This reckless plunging caused his cock to obscenely pummel her plush velvety gorge. The manhood was easily stiff and stolid enough to bludgeon her throat as badly as the slap had ringed her head.
Soon the oral service turned wet and slovenly. Mucus-infested sputum poured out from Vallistra's hole infesting both her chin and Obren's cock in viscid spittle. "Not very pretty or comfortable doing hard manual labor, isn't it, succubus?" Obren scoffed. "This is what life is like for honest men and women. Maybe a future of hard strenuous cocksucking will give you some sympathy for the villagers."
"Gluck! Gluck! Glurgkh! Glurckh! Uggh! Gluck! Glurkh!" Vallistra wretchedly grunted in reply. This hollow cacophony resounded obscenely whenever she thrusted her neck forward onto him. The exhumed spittle likewise grew more abundant and slapdash, sprawling his balls and her cheeks and chin. Within a few moments, Vallistra's entire face was coated in multitudes of slimy translucent drool. Strands of the tacky slobber turned so copious they dangled off her chin and swayed during the blowjob.
"Faster! Rougher!" he demanded while rising to his toes in building ecstasy. "And use that serpentine tongue of yours as you do! A whore has to labor even when she's exhausted! Or just feeling the tinge of laziness! Especially one who is set to service honest hard laboring men!"
Vallistra did her best to obey, but it was all so overwhelming. While oscillating her head like a piston she worked to stroke his cockhead with her tongue. A tiefling’s tongue was more dexterous than that of a human, but it was still difficult twisting and curling it around the shaft of his cock while in mid-motion. Her countenance contorted into an arduous grimace underneath the tacky spitum from this exertion, making the dismay burn all the harder.
"Uuuuuh!" he throatily bellowed. "Go for it you whooooore! Show me your desire to atone!"
Vallistra fought the enfeebling meekness within her urging her to stop, just as she did the burning mortification of sucking upon a dirty cock. Obren had been the one to betray them, not she! Why should she be the one to suffer? Why should this vicious prejudice fall upon her just for being a planar? The dangling strands of spittle started plummeting off her chin. They pelted the earthen ground underneath her face wetly like tears.
"Guuuuh!! Huuuuh!! Wuuuh! Damn!" he grunted, sounding ever more un-clerical with every coarse groan. "Let me take hold of this horned skull! I'll fuck some holiness into it!" He grabbed onto Vallistra’s horns with both hands, clutching her exactly how the greenskinned monsters had held it. So in control, the disciple of Helm began pumping into her mouth rabbit-like as if it was a cunt. Slapdash, frantic plunges meant to clobber her tight voicebox with his cockhead. That orifice was already aching hoarse from the abundance of saline sperm dumped down its chute, and he assaulted it like he wanted to stab right through her.
Vallistra's kneebound position was turned from active to passive, from cocksucker to cocksheath, and from self-debasement to desecration. The grunts of "Gluck! Glurck!" Gluck!" and the outpouring spittle grew even louder still. "Hmmmgmmph!" she miserably wailed while being throatfucked.
"This is what your atonement is going to feel like, whore!" Obren grunted mid-thrusts. "Dealing with the hardness of men! I know that you actually prefer bigger, filthier, and greener poles, but now you’ll have to settle for mine!"
Vallistra started to choke crassly like a asphyxiating cat. Her pained expression had become so contorted it could genuinely appear demon-like. Even mid-skullfuck, the word "atonement" echoed within her skull like a mocking ear-worm. She burned hot as a smoldering coal with dismay, everything in the young adventurer unable to deal with how incredibly, hypocritically unfair it all was. It was Obren who was the traitor. The betrayer of their group. Yet it was she who had to earn atonement… because he was the 'upright' human and she the damned tiefling slut.
"Uuuugh! Are you ready, whore? Are you ready for your baptism?" Obren hollered while fucking her face at top speed. "I'm going to spurt out your atonement! Drink it all up, just like you’re used to. This time it won’t be to fulfill your personal debauchery. Now it'll be to earn my grace! Uuuunnnngh!"
The man's ejaculation was as tawdry and sloppy as the blowjob itself. Abruptly, in one explosive moment, hot slimy sperm squirted from his cockhead in forceful salvos. Gush after gush spurted forth, flooding her gullet and drowning her in rapid succession. Vallistra felt the gooey slime splash against the walls of her glottal passage, sticking to the membrane. This was his idea of her atonement… The fruit of his hatred towards what he considered sinful.
"Hmmmnggh!" she squealed in a high pitch with a voicebox drowning in sperm.
The cumshot was not as choking or overwhelming as an orc’s flood of emissions... but it was still so much, from someone she thought she could trust. Worse, she had to put on a show for him, the rogue compelled to handle a whole scrotum worth of semen pouring down her throat, and she had to swallow it as quickly as she could. As soon as her windpipe was even partially unclogged the tiefling coughed uproariously, inhaling oxygen and upending spunk. The creamy sperm tasted as vile as his bigoted soul.
"Ahh... what satisfaction," Obren cathartically croaked, his dick slackening as quickly as it had hardened. "Isn't it good how we've finally tamed your promiscuous talents? Put them towards godly uses?"
Vallistra did not want to reply. She didn't want to confirm his words, even if doing so with mere lies. She didn't want to converse with this bigot while still feeling the slimy residue of his spunk befoul her throat. Yet she had to. The crusted Orcish semen she could still taste and feel sticking to her palate reminded her things could be so much worse. "Y-Yes, Master," she peeped. "T-Thank you... for purifying my flesh."
"You look less a devil already, bitch," he sneered like a common cutpurse. "Maybe you can be saved after all." He spat upon Vallistra's red-skinned face. She barely flinched as it slowly drooled down her haggard visage. The loathing Vallistra felt towards this sanctimonious reprobate was enormous, yet futile all the same. There was nothing she could do or say to make him perceive himself as he really was, not a holy man, but a simple-minded bigot, a traitor, and scum… and all she could do by pointing it out was doom herself.
Her helplessness let the rancor burn within her, unfulfilled and aimless… diluted into nothing more than hopeless frustration. The tiefling was psychologically caught in a pit of bottomless misery. Even after leaving this detestable pit behind she would never be able to abandon the searing trauma its captivity had caused.
While she was enspelled by these ruminations, Obren left her cell. He returned a few seconds later, without ever having needed to leave the room proper… bearing chains attached to a collar. The normally stoic cleric of Helm smirked as if having come bearing gifts. "Now your atonement will begin for real," he chuckled with a sinister smile.
They arrived at the village on foot. Vallistra walked leashed behind him in animalistic nudity while wrapped in chains.
Even from a distance, Vallistra could spot that multiple buildings in town had been burned… either superficially in the beams and thatches that made up their roofs, or having been totally reduced to blackened ash from the flames. It told her clear as day that Archleon had been here, but even that now lay in the past… nothing smoldered any longer. Though the tiefling's surroundings couldn't be any more different — chthonic darkness having been exchanged for stark sunlight and wood-green nature — her sense of ominous foreboding hadn't dissipated one bit.
Somehow, she had hoped that a segment of the villagers would show her mercy. That the horror of the episode would have mollified their fearful, hating hearts. However, as it were, the second Vallistra entered the settlement's premises she learned that the opposite was true. The rural folk were ravening mad, murderously angered. She had thought the way the orcs looked at her as they had to let her and Obren go had been threatening, but this was worse… these people looked upon her as if she were the cause of their misfortune in the first place.
"Burn her!" an elderly matron demanded.
A child hurled a turnip, smashing it directly into Vallistra’s face. In the very next moment, a greengrocer upturned his wares over her head showering her in cabbage and onions. Simultaneously, someone yanked on her tail from behind. Many more clutched her in aggressive handholds, the bound tiefling’s horns especially targeted by their tugs. For the planeborn adventuress it was an absolute bedlam. Their sundry of hostile faces were like a disorientating gallery of madness.
"Nooooo!" she yelled while being pulled left and right, fought over like a child's toy.
"Devil-horned fiend!" one screamed.
"Accursed pig whore!" another bellowed.
"Fucking tart! Harlot!" a wizened woman who looked like she had never before left the village shrieked.
"Now-now!" Obren urged in an uncharacteristically jolly tenor. "Please allow me to pass through, good folk. Otherwise the serpent-tongued fiend cannot commence her atonement!"
He kept walking past them, unconcerned as the men she passed almost all groped her… many falling into line behind her, walking in their wake until Obren kicked open the tavern door and hauled her inside. This was the same establishment were she had sampled a drink before venturing on their quest to Archleon's lair… where she had found some companionship for the night to cheer her up. Now, she entered it stumbling and naked while in chains. Agitators hounded after her like an attack party no matter where she went. Those drunkards already manning the pub turned around upon their stools and laughed at her misfortune with beer-stained beards.
"Crying? This foul demonness?" one old laborer exclaimed, incredulous. "Ha! What a trick! These devils know of every ploy to try and sway a good man's heart!"
Obren walked right past the drinking hall and into a back room, chaining her firmly to one of the tables. He positioned Vallistra with her belly showing and her legs lecherously spread, trapping her tail underneath her rump against the wood. Though her cheeks were glistening with tears, her cleft was now exposed in an invitingly unseemly manner. Many were the pitiless faces watching this happen. Their smiles were crooked and lewd with a level of vindictive rancor unreplicable by the orcs.
"The temple will now start accepting its donations!" Obren hollered to the crowd the moment her ankles had been secured. "What we seek are brave lads willing to try and purify the demon! What say you men? Who here are ready to try and hound the whore out of the foul planar’s pussy?"
"I will!" a voice cried from the back. "By Helm and all the spirits that live in these yonder woodlands, I've done so once before!"
Said individual soon elbowed his way through the crowd. He emerged black-haired and black-bearded beaming a humongous white-toothed grin. Vallistra's viscera crawled at the mere sight of him. She wished to melt into water and seep through the boards in the floor as she recognized him. He was Jonathan... or Jonastad, or Jonastead... or whatever it had been. She had taken him to bed already… that drunk night before they had so foolishly ventured to the Dragon's lair.
Up until now, she had considered the fling nothing more than a drunken attempt at some companionship and acceptance, a somewhat shameful, stupid romp that managed to briefly quell her misery at having been so viciously rejected and mocked. At most Vallistra had expected their tryst to amount to nothing more grand than another humiliating half-forgotten memory. Now, Obren’s betrayal cast a new light on it. The village had known that she and her friends were going to their doom. The man she had taken to bed had done so knowing what awaited her… wanting a piece of the tiefling before the dragonspawn got their turn.
The look on his face was a rapacious grin as he passed a few copper coins into Obren's hand. He approached far too quick for Vallistra's liking… how could she have not noticed the cruelty in those eyes through the liquor before? "J-Jonathan," she stammered. "Wa--"
"It's Jonastead, bitch," the black-haired farmhand snarled while removing his shirt and much more. "Now shut that jizz-guzzling hole. I didn't pay to have you fucking gape like you did last time before surrendering your charm. I paid to purify a fucking demoness right in her fucking sluthole!"
Hopping onto the table, Jonastead marshaled himself in-between her outstretched legs. His erect prick soon emerged like an unwelcomed dagger. Vallistra remained pinned while he guided his unsheathed cock toward her defenseless slit. The very first touch between their disparate organs proved so dreadful that Vallistra shivered underneath his bulk. "Hehe!" he laughed while rubbing his dirty cockhead against her quim. "You see this, lads? She's already pining after my dick! I guess she remembers it from last time!”
His rustic meat-pole had rammed open Vallistra's cleft once before. That aided the rogue’s discomfort not even a little. Vallistra' shivers amplified as he pushed against its center to fork open her vaginal-folds. She didn't want to be penetrated with so many people watching. The tiefling didn't want to reward the scorn of the entire village.
But no one cared what she wanted.
"Eeeeehh! Nooo!" she caterwauled, shouting so loud that Jonastead slapped her across the cheek. This birthed bedlams of laughter from his fellow locals. In the very next second he pierced her womanhood open, slamming forward with such force that the farmhand shoved the table an inch across the ground and he buried his entire fuckclub into her cleft in one fell stroke.
"Aaaaaeeeeh!" she wailed feeling that virile manhood bottomed out inside her. Its bulbous knob practically trampled against her cervix, assaulting the entrance of her womb. To her unimaginable chagrin Jonastead's penis felt more unwelcomed inside her than any other man she had ever slept with. The rogue quickly learned that being a prostitute was nothing like having normal sex.
"Haha! What's she like, mate?" another drunkard hollered from the crowd.
Jonastead answered with an extraordinary ugly sexual expression. The peasant cared nothing at all about Vallistra's own pleasure. The only thing he valued was the ecstasy he underwent spearing her pussy and feeling its velvety clutch. Without further delay, his bestradling mass started moving, seesawing his hips to pummel her box. This jostled their intimately interlocked organs in a facsimile of lovemaking.
"Oh she loves it! She loves it!" a woman in the crowd scandalously declared, others soon aping her outcry. There wasn't a soul in the room who didn't delight in Vallistra's downfall. Throughout it all their loud castigations resounded alongside the creaking of the table and the rattling of her chains.
It wasn't long before Jonastead was dicking Vallistra's sex with confident plunges, pummeling her cunt like a stallion caught in some breeding frenzy. Other villagers hollered lewd encouragement while pumping their fists into the air. Vallistra wallowed in misery underneath Jonastead. These manly lurches were by no means as powerful or hurtful as the Orcs. However... as he was a human, they were still felt in an utterly different way. Being ravaged by one of the dragonspawn who had captured her was a madcap cavalcade of seemingly endless misery. With these villagers, however… especially one whom she had thought kind and considerate enough to give her companionship despite her heritage… the animosity was much more intimate. Much more emotional. Not only more personal but also corrosive to the soul.
"You fucking worthless demon!" he cursed while humping her pussy like a bull humps a cow. "This is what your race of people were created for! Entertaining honest men! You think I offered you a drink over a fancy? I only craved a wet hole to fuck! That's the only worthwhile thing a drifter harlot like you could provide!”
The reckless humping continued. He clove into her pussy like a woodsman trying to fell a redwood. Jonastead's own body was almost as horizontal as her own during the intercourse, allowing his hot alcoholic breath to blow against her face with every pant. He wolfishly clutched and bit at her breasts while he raped her, and slapped her crying face every few thrusts. Onlookers were yelling for him to ransack her even harder, to teach her what happened to monsters who go against honest men, and Jonastead happily obliged. Many of these provincials whom she had originally journeyed here to rescue were now intoxicated with drink and an urge for revenge. Vallistra's rape was a sloppy dirty thing... as unclean as the beer-stained floor of the tavern itself.
And they loved it.
"Look, she's crying! She’s really crying!" a man laughingly exclaimed while pointing towards her face.
"A troll's tears!" a woman loudly answered. "The demon is only trying to deceive us!"
"Indeed you speak wisely, madam," Obren immediately replied. "The demoness is a whore on a racial level. Shame and sorrow are something they cannot truly feel. This is her atonement for her blood."
Vallistra was submerged underneath dark clouds of despair. She was truly loathed and un-loved by all. Because of her reddish skin and twin horns and planar pedigree the villagers felt at liberty to act towards her with animalistic savage loathing. Vallistra had tried to escape this bigotry by becoming a hero, to change minds with valorous deeds. Now... in defeat, she was truly learning that her earnest actions had earned her no sympathy at all. They prefered her as an object of hatred. A disgusting reprehensible being they could torment.
"Hahaha! Look! Now she's crying even more!" the same man scornfully pointed out.
"Stop trying to deceive us, whore!" a hoarse-throated drunk exclaimed.
"Yeah! We know of your salacious ways!" another said.
Throughout all this racial abuse Vallistra's first customer kept on doggedly humping. He treated her as nothing more than a sluthole, some tight orifice meant to be pumped and pumped and pumped until cathartic release overcame him. Painting it all as a godly deed of atonement was a mere rouse. Nor did their previous tryst inspire him to see any humanity within her. All this he did with both village and clergy's accord.
Overcome with despair, Vallistra settled into merely laying there and taking it. She tried to relax her vaginal muscles and allow the brusque farmhand to pump her with as little friction as possible. That engorged dick went in and out of an essentially inert hole. This pathetic surrender melted Vallistra with hot chagrin. Not that anyone noticed. After all she was nothing more than an object of hatred. Less a person than a vessel for their bigotry.
"Uuuh! Uuuughh!" he groaned in swinish ways which were reminiscent of the orcs she thought she had escaped. "I'm going to cum! You're about to get purified, whore! Get excited, demon! This stuff sizzling in my balls will rock you like holy water!"
Vallistra said nothing. What could she say? Instead her emotions were communicated with a miserable grimace and salty hot tears as he humped back and forth. Jonastead's glottal groaning inexorably increased in intensity. His skewering dagger had already made her feel robbed of all worth. Now, he was going to befoul her even more.
Slowly, he leaned down, so that he could whisper into her ear. "You want to know a secret, Vallista?” Jonastead coarsely croaked into her ear. “Truth is, you're a better fuck crying and chained than you were willing, bitch." He drew back and raised his voice again. "The damn cleric is right about you, demon whore. You're trash. This kind of whoredom is in your fucking nature."
As if to punctuate his words, Jonastead's inserted cock pulsed twice and then sloppily shot its emissions. He stained her crimson hole for a second time with wads of white creamy cum, shooting it deep… He remained hilted and groaning throughout the entire ejaculation, jerking and spasming inside her the whole way. The onlookers saw this not as intercourse but as conquest, a triumph of the village over the hated outsider. Obren, meanwhile, saw turning her womanhood into a sewage pipe for male spunk as her path to atonement.
"What do you say, slave?" the cleric pressed.
"T-Thank you for purifying my pussy," she tearfully remarked while Jonastead remained impaled balls-deep within her.
"Don't mention it, honey," he derisively answered while pulling out his dong with a wet squish and a pop. Inside he had dumped a big slimy load, and it was already starting to leak out of her gaping cunt. "You have a real talent for this, my little devil. Far better as a fuck when bought by coin than when giving willingly."
"Really? So you say?" Obren commented as Jonastead walked away.
"My good cleric of the cloth," Jonastead spoke in a grandiosely farcical way. "She was wetter than the marshlands in spring. A real enthusiastic hooker. I dare say she stealthily orgasmed several times over before I did. You know, it was more like I was being milked by her than it was like fucking her."
Obren's face turned towards her as the farmhand vanished into the crowd. His smile was as thin-lipped as it was evil, with all his malevolence directed towards her. Vallistra started shaking so badly the sperm within her cunt shimmied around. She knew he was having wicked ideas.
"Well, we can't have that, can we?" he spoke with icy calmness. "Your atonement is about serving others, not satisfying your own promiscuous wants. I've spoken about this, Vallistra. Without service there is no atonement. In order to fix this error, I think we have to... take drastic measures."
People emerged from the crowd and began to take hold of the tiefling's outstretched legs. It was as if they were reinforcing the chain's bondage, thinking it would not be enough. Without exemption they all grinned like jackals. Vallistra's fearful shakes grew even worse. It was as if they all knew of what he spoke while she remained in the dark.
"W-What do you mean?" she stammered. "Wh-What he said isn't true. I'm not a marshland in spring. I- I'm not a-"
Her words carried no weight whatsoever. Before she had even finished pleading, Obren vanished into the crowd. She could vaguely tell where he was going based on the reactions of the other villagers. He appeared to be heading towards the open fireplace where small flames currently flickered. The cleric soon returned carrying the metallic fire poker in his hand like a sword. Its tip, was smoldering red.
Vallistra looked on in horror. He couldn’t possibly be planning-
"You are ruled by your promiscuity, wench," Obren cursed.
"Nooooo!!!" she interrupted in boundless fear.
Obren reached down between her legs, grabbed onto the tiefling’s clit, and pulled, pinching hard. He had aimed right for the epicenter of her lust. That tiny button which not only generated but also controlled her pleasure. Vallistra's clitoris. The most sensitive spot on her incredibly sensitive womanhood.
"Feel this here?” he said to the screaming tiefling. “This needy, weak little thing is what prevented you from being a proper sacrifice," he continued while menacingly staring down into her crotch. "It is the reason Mayael had to be sacrificed… and it’s what is preventing you from earning your atonement. That is the source of all your troubles.”
"NOOOOOOO!!!!" she continued screaming while bucking and thrashing every limb. “NO PLEASE OBREN IS THE TRAITOR NOT ME!!! HE BETRAYED THE PARTY NOT I!!! EEEHHHHEE! PLEEEAAASE!”
She was begging with blind instinctual words like a naïve child frantically beseeching the Gods for justice. Raucous laughter instantaneously arose within the tavern from this pathetic reaching. Soon, the sound of their scornful merriment overruled even her panic-stricken bellows.
Vallistra may have journeyed to this land to save them. To liberate the villagers from the Dragon. But such intentions did not matter. To them, she was but simple entertainment. While to Obren her torment was nothing but warped religious duty.
“So we have to burn it away,” Obren said with a cruel grin. “That's your only path towards salvation, demon." He approached even closer, rios of smoke seeping from the hot poker. Though she tugged madly at her steel bondage, they never came any close to breaking. What stuck out of her spade-tipped tail from underneath her rear flailed around with madcap energies… yet was as useless as a prehensile organ.
She was at Obren’s mercy – and Obren’s mercy was as nonexistent as the orcs’ had been. The entire village’s mercy was as scant as the orcs’ had been!
"NOOOOOO!!!" she kept thundering at full volume, the good-hearted, well-meaning rogue reduced to nothing but blinding spasm of terror.
"Now your atonement can truly begin," the cleric of Helm concluded. "Here's your lesson in servicing others.” And he pressed the poker down.
Vallistra heard the sizzle of her flesh even over the volume of her blood-curdling screech. There was nothing about her fiendish blood that protected her from this… she burned just as easily as any other living, breathing thing.
"EEEEEEIIIIIEEEEEEEHHHHH!!!" she screeched like a thousand women wailing out at once, spine bucking upwards until ligaments within her body nearly snapped. It was the kind of cry that should have roused the attention of Gods. She screamed for every iota of her pleasure lost. Her pinned tail throbbed against the wooden table like a hare's foot until the dunking resounded throughout the room alongside their laughter.
Not even once did the villagers pause to consider that they were torturing an innocent person. Their callousness was as total as Vallistra's despair. Yet Obren was the most heartless one of all. He kept that hot poker stabbed against the crown of her quim until her flesh blackened and scorched like a once brightly-coloured leaf wilting at tremendous speed. Though the mutilation of her sex was horrendous, his self-righteous smirk vanished not even a little.
"EEEEAAAAA-AAAHH-AAAH-AHHHA-AAAH...!" she clamored, thunderous shrieks eventually dissipating into uncontrolled weeping. The extreme pain had dug into Vallistra's clitoral hood enough that she suspected her erogenous flesh might have been burned entirely away. It was as bad as any sword wound… it seemed likely her ability to feel any pleasure at all from what she was put through had been destroyed, and where her sensitivity had once existed nothing but a blackened scorch now remained.
All Vallistra had wanted was to be a hero. To be accepted. To move beyond the bigotry so often directed against her planar blood. She had wanted to protect people… and this was her fate for harboring such lofty ideals. Her crucible of unfair and woeful torment.
"There!" Obren exclaimed with a note of triumph and withdrew the rod. He smirked towards the burnt-in wound above her cleft. Not even seeing the ghastly damage he had caused swayed the cleric's dogmatic mind. "That's your unnatural promiscuity dealt with. Now we can make some progress on your atonement. One day, you'll thank me for this, demon. You'll thank me when you've atoned for so many sins your filthy sluthole is so badly damaged not even I can heal it anymore.”
Vallistra didn't answer. Having exploded muscularly through the overwhelming pain she was now as inert and unmoving as a dead body. The cleric had crushed her completely. She was now nothing more than a body to serve.
"Who would like to continue the proceedings?" he asked his fellow villagers for whom he had sacrificed his group. "Be merry and drink! Helm has staved the Great Serpents wrath once more! Now is the time for our festivities!"
The villagers approached an apogee of high spirits unseen since before Archleon arrived to their lands. Despite all that had happened and gone wrong this was to them a triumph. Meanwhile, another rustic farmhand positioned himself before Vallistra's crotch, uncaring of the blackened burn existing where once her clitoris had been. Seizing the back of her knees for stability, he thrusted in his full-blooded erection with a piggish grunt.
"Still feels like a fucking whore to me," he discourteously mumbled while starting to pump her mutilated hole.
Vallistra gave no reaction. She barely moved save for the swaying of her breasts, jiggling erotically on her chest to the rhythm of his impactful thrusting. Moreover, her visage had frozen into the expression of numb horror… It made her look like an effigy of a person tortured to death.
"Enjoy this little vacation, demon,” Obren mumbled, having accepted the offer of a drinking horn. "After these brave men have tired of you, I’ll take you to the next village around the Moonsea, and then the next and the next. We’ll see if we can find more righteous men brave enough to try and redeem a demon whore. I hope you'll find the same interest in atonement as you did in promiscuity, Vallistra. From now on, it'll be your sole purpose until you finally face judgment and vanish from the world."
Valista remained like a chained corpse being thumped. Her eyes were humongous wells of bottomless torment seen by the myriad locals but not understood. The screaming was now silent like the grave — yet no less intense in torment.
This newest patron humped quickly and slovenly into her hole. That cleft still served its purpose admirably enough… the bereavement of her clit only affected her, not the men using her. The villager fully intended to unceremoniously dump his load as swiftly as possible so that he could grab himself a drink and enjoy watching the festivities.
And somewhere deep down, Vallistra realized that a quick rape was probably the most mercy she could expect ever again.
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is there a reason that she is called Vallista in chapter one and Vallistra in later chapters, with some exceptions? (not that it really matters, just noticed)