You look around for a way out, checking the walls systematically, trying the barred window, doing everything you can think of. The room seemed secure and well designed. Finally, you give up and go to sleep.
You're awakened by the door opening. It is the guard you saw earlier. "Come with me," he says tersely.
You briefly consider trying to seduce him, but decide against it. He seems utterly unmoved by your naked body, and his harsh demeanour makes you think it's a bad idea. Still, you gather up your courage and ask "Where?"
This raises a cruel smile. "Milady's holding a dinner party, and you're to be the guest of honour."
Saying no more, he leads you into a large dining hall. Over the central banqueting table hangs an odd device, a wooden cross hung from the ceiling with chains, with manacles at each end. From its design, you see it's easy to orient the cross any way that is desired. You know better than to resist as he straps you to it, wrist and ankle.
Still, you gasp as he turns the whole thing over, making your breasts dangle and sway uncomfortably. Annoyed, he gags you, before pulling on a chain to raise the contraption into the rafters, and you with it. Then, to your shock, he simply walks out, leaving you hanging there.
You don't know how long you wait. Eventually, guests start filing in and taking seats at the table. Food is brought in, and the murmur of conversation begins to reach you.
Finally, after what seems like an age, a woman who you guess is your captor stands up. "Friends, I have a special treat for you tonight." She pulls on another chain, and your stomach lurches as you descend, stopping just above the table. There are appreciative gasps as the guests examine your nude, helpless form.
"Human," she continues, "And utterly untrained. And tonight she is yours, for your pleasure."
"Really?" An elven lady seated in front of you says. "Let us see what it can do." She stands up and lifts her elegant skirt. Then, as an afterthought, she removes your gag and presses your face into her cunt. You try to resist at first, but your first taste of sweet elven juices startles you enough that you give up the idea, and you start to lick eagerly. "Mm..." she says, "Are you sure it hasn't been trained?" she asks, lowering her dress over your head and blocking out your view of your surroundings.
You feel something cold rubbing your pussy lips. It is only when a male voice comments dryly "Not the kind of cream I would apply there." that you can guess what's happening. Another of the guests has dipped her fingers in one of the deserts and is lavishing the cream on your womanhood. Finally, she places a cherry between the lips and begins to lick in away, making you twitch in a way that makes the other guests laugh.
"No, leave it," one of the men says as the woman behind you attempts to remove the cherry with her teeth. "You know how rare it is for me to get my hands on a girl this fine who still has a cherry." Your eyes have only just widened at this comment when he thrusts in, driving the small fruit before the significantly larger head of his cock, forcing it deep into you.
"An excellent slut," your violator laughs. "Wet as a river. And normally when one rapes a bitch, she needs to be coaxed into responding properly, but this one is already fucking me back." To your shame you realise it's true. Being used and humiliated like this, treated as an object, violated in public in front of an eager audience, all of whom plan to have their way with you... the whole perverse experience is making you deeply horny, and your hips are moving of their own accord.
The snippets of conversation you overhear around you are not helping, seeming to be exclusively concerned with similar activities. "A shame there are no vegetables here," one woman says to another. "Remember that innocent made of yours? She thought nothing of being sent to the market for a pair of large cucumbers until we bent her over the table and pushed them into her holes." This anecdote raises a laugh.
The man cums with a triumphant roar, shooting his seed into your womb, moments before your lapping tongue brings the woman to climax. She sighs, and resumes her seat, leaving you panting in arousal and blinking in the light.
"A toast, I think," another elf says. "To our host and her new slut." With an expert hand he spins you over, leaving you on your back. He tips the frame so your hips are raised, the entrance to your pussy pointed at him. Then, to the laughter and applause of the other guests, he places the mouth of a wine bottle in your widened snatch and upends it, letting the liquid pour into you. It is shockingly cold in your hot passage, and the pressure and flow is unlike anything else you have had there.
"An excellent idea," a guest comments, "it will add to the bouquet, and she'll be cumming vintage juice for days."
"Of course," the pourer adds, "We must not forget our other guest." Your head has lolled back, your long blond hair trailing in the food. But this gives you a good view of the doors, albeit upside-down. Now, you see a figure enter, and realise with horror that it carries the same aura of malice and utter evil as the forces which destroyed your village. It is an agent of the dark hordes, here in Elohin. |