Underworld of the Chevaan

Part VI

Back Up

"The Yukhoth are among the most degenerate creature who reside in the Underworld, Sadiste explained as she stood with her hands on her waist, her weight on one leg so that her hip was pushed out and her long body curved like a serpents. "More intelligent than the Ashath, the slithering ones, though of course that' not saying much. They exist only to inflict pain and to rut like dogs in heat."

Satyra lay on her belly on a stone block about two feet high near her head and slanting down to one foot at the other end, where her bare feet hung over the end with metal clamps about her ankles. Other chains kept her arms pulled up with her hands either side of her shoulders. She was facing the demoness, the two of them in yet another of the seemingly infinite number of cavern chambers that made up the fiery realm of evil.

And they weren't alone.

Standing around the red she-demon were a half dozen of the little troll-creatures that had brought in the bowl of blood during the invigoration ritual. They were all virtually identical, about four feet tall stockily built humanoids with scaly green skin. Their head were round and hairless with broad ugly faces under heavy overhanging brows, with wide pug noses and lipless mouths full of short broken teeth. Their ears were like tiny bat wings either side of their head, and they had almost no neck between their chins and their podgy thick bodies. Like the demons Vhyl and Fylth they were naked, their short thick phalluses handing between their legs as they shamelessly examined the naked woman bound to the stone.

Sadiste stared at Satyra as well. Her red hair shone in the light of the torches in the chamber, and her green eyes still showed the defiance of their earlier conversations, though perhaps a little more fear as well, now that the priestess had had some experience with the horrors of her situation. But below the fringe of her curling red hair the face in which those green eyes were set was markedly different. The smooth skin, like that of Satrya's entire body, had gone from a healthy golden bronze to an alabaster white. As the nude captive lay on the stone block facing her Sadiste thought she seemed herself to be made of stone, a perfect white marble copy of a living woman, with only the copper hair, ivory horns and bright angry green eyes to reveal her true nature.

'Its rumoured that their sexual appetite is insatiable, that they can go for days raping a victim over and over without getting tired,' Sadiste continued, plying with the ears of one of the Yukhoth as it giggled at the helpless Chevaan, 'And,' added the yellow eyed hellion, 'they'll fuck almost anything.'

'Don't feel inhibited on my account,' Satyra said in a breathy voice, twisting her head a little to try and find a comfortable resting space against the harsh rocky surface.

Sadiste smiled more broadly. Satrya's resistance was exceeding all expectations. She found the woman's stubborn refusal to be broken very erotic, because she knew it would afford her so many more fulfilling opportunities to hurt and humiliate the proud beauty on the way to taming her.

Actually, they're here for your benefit, Sadiste smiled, and turned to the Yukhoth nearest to her. 'Now you are not allowed to rape her,' she told the little monster. 'Lord Vulgus has reserved the honour of being the first to penetrate her, and he will be most displeased if any of you should pre-empt him.'

'No pussy,' the creature growled. 'Ass?'

'No,' said Sadiste.

'Mouth?' asked another.

'Sorry, no.'

The trolls looked hard one by.

'Another thing,' Sadiste said. 'The spell that allows keeps her from death is powerful, but she may still not be as resilient as the souls you are used to tormenting. Best not to try decapitating or dismembering her.' The creatures blinked stupidly, and Sadiste sighed. 'Don't cut off her head, arms or legs.'

Again the Yukhoth pouted like disappointed children. 'Fingers? Tits?' asked the leader hopefully.

'No,' Sadiste said, getting annoyed. 'And not her feet, toes, ears, eyes, tongue, clit, or anything else you might think of. She stays all in one piece.'

The Yukhoth grumbled petulantly, and the leader next to Sadiste kicked the floor. 'Can't fuck it, can't slice it up,' he complained sulkily. 'What can we do to it?'

Sadist bent down so that her full breast hung forward and used her finger to raise the chin of the little demon and look at its face. 'Anything else,' she said with a smile.

The monster looked back for a moment, and then all six broke into a chorus of devilish laughter. Sadiste stood and looked over at Satyra. 'I'll leave you now,' she said to Satyra. 'Play nice.' She laughed as Satyra struggled with the chains around her wrists, then strutted out of the chamber.

Left alone with the hideous demons Satyra struggled more forcefully, but stopped as the creatures approached her, some standing around the stone block, the leader near her head. She shuddered as they pocked and pinched her, tweaking her ass and pulling her curling hair. 'It gonna beg for Vulgus big cock?' he asked.

'No,' Satyra snarled. 'Never.'

'Bad cunt,' snapped one of the Yukhoth at the rear, and gave her a vicious slap on the backside. Satyra winced.

'Dumb cunt,' laughed the leader, grabbing a fistful of Satyra's hair so she gasped. 'Cunt needs teaching.'

Two of the Yukhoth went over to a wall and grabbed objects hanging there. When they came back each held a long whip with nine thongs of some material that looked like cured leather, but was a bloody red colour. 'Cunt gonna learn now,' smiled the leader.

The whip carrying demons stood either side of Satyra, about level with her chest. She pulled her head up to look at one as it swung the weapon experimentally. She shivered, and the stone felt cold against her stomach and breasts.

While she was looking at one, the other swung its whip against her back, the leather thongs cracking loudly against the skin below her shoulder blades. Satyra gasped loudly and curled her hands into fists. As the pain flared in her flesh the other swung as well, the whip curling around the base of her back just above her ass.

The grinning trolls took it in turn to ply the leather against their victim's bare back, the whips wounding like snapping timbers as they crashed against Satyra's naked skin. Against the white flesh the red welts of the strikes flared angrily, as the priestess shook and began moaned and gave short yelps of pain.

After six stokes Satyra's body was damp with perspiration. At twelve it had begun to shine in the chambers light. Tears stung her eyes, and she stirred to push up against the stone to free herself, only to be battered down again by the force of the blows landing. She tired again, failed, fell back against the block. She cracked her chin and groaned. The demons laughed.

After twenty strokes the woman's back was spotted with drops of blood as the scouring lashes began to flay her skin. Satyra cried and ground her teeth. Sweat ran down into her eyes, and the skin around her wrists was chafed from tugging at the shackles. The pain between her shoulders and hips was if she were standing with her back to close to a fire, mixed with an ever-present stinging throb. In some part of her mind she had believed after the ordeal in Sadiste's magical flames she would be inured to any other pain, but as the whips fell again and again she had to struggle to stop from screaming like a trapped beast.

At thirty stokes the flogging stopped. Satyra swallowed and looked up, but the demons were only passing their whips to two companions eager to inflict pain on the lovely captive.

The second series of blows landed on her legs, working up and down their tapering length. When they whipped the soles of her feet Satyra finally cried out loud, the sensitive pads sending messages of anguish the full length of her body to her fevered brain. Satyra trembled and tried instinctively to pull herself away from the whips, but only succeeded in arching her back up as she pressed her hips and pelvis against the stone. The demons continued until her lower limbs were slick with seeping blood from the broken skin.

When the next pause came the leader grabbed her horns and pulled her round to face him. 'Cunt will beg for Vulgus cock.'

It wasn't a question, but Satyra responded anyway. 'I…won't,' she whispered behind grit teeth.

The demon slammed her head down against the stone so she saw stars, then strode round and grabbed a whip. The last demon to wait its turn did likewise.

The tongs whistled and cracked against her left ass cheek. Satyra screamed. Her right cheek got the same, and she screamed again.

Satyra soon lost track of how many blows struck her from behind. The torment sang in her ears and her world contacted around the awful flames ignited in her soft buttocks. She

Buried her face in the crook of her shoulder and wrenched against the chains about her wrists, and her body shook on the stone. Eventually her screams became mingled with the sobs that wracked her bleeding form. The Yukhoth laughed and kept beating her until the whip was sodden with blood and the flesh of her rounded ass was a mass of sliced, broken tissue.

At some point the flogging stopped. Satyra knew because the searing pain flaring like a sun in her backside receded to an agonizing but constant torture. It was a long time before she could summon the strength to lift her head to see what the demons were doing.

Through the sweat-moistened strands of her red fringe Satyra saw one of the demons who had already beaten her approaching with a new weapon, this one a metal handle trailing three lengths of three foot long chain, the fine links adorned with tiny metal spikes.

While Satyra watched in fascinated dread another of the creatures emptied a bucket of fetid water over her back. She gasped, but as the brine sluiced the blood from her there was far less pain than she had anticipated. She felt one demons clawed hand caressing her spine and twisted her head to see the leader running his fingers across the white skin, the surface smooth and unscarred. He smiled at her. 'All better,' he said. 'We can fix that.'

Satyra brought her head back around and braced herself as the chain whip hissed through the hot air. It took three strokes of the flail tearing the skin from her shoulder blades before she screamed again.

The Yukhoth flayed the woman's body up and down, from shoulders to feet. The stone and the ground about became drenched in blood, more blood than a woman could loose without passing out, but Sadiste's foul sorceries infused her rounded form with unnatural vitality, and her wounds healed swiftly so that the demons could keep on hurting her. She arched her body upwards when they beat the small of her back, so the trolls could see her full tits and nipples just clearing the hard stone. They got excited and spent some time using the spiked chin against the sides of her breasts where they were pillowed outwards against the block, watching the prisoner wiggle as she tried to shift her position to keep as much of the tender mounds hidden as possible. After a time they went back to flogging her tender ass, and her screams bounced off the cavern walls with each strike of the barbs. The twin cheeks clenched instinctively as the chains tore at them, making it look as if the copper-haired woman were humping the stone slab while she was whipped. They would pause to swap the flail around and give her backside time to partly heal, then rip into it again.

For Satyra, the universe degenerated into a cycle of agonized writhing and sobbing, anguished misery. Even when the demons were not beating her there was no release, her mind tormented by the knowledge they would soon be hurting her again. Her green eyes burned with tears, and despite the fiery signals coursing up from her shredded back she shivered, drenched in sweat. When the Yukhoth stopped now and again to offer her a chance to join Vulgus she could no longer muster any words of defiance, just shake her head feebly and then brace herself more pain.

At some point the torture paused for longer than normal, and Satyra lay with her eyes closed, enduring the feel of the open wound that was her rear. Her lips were dry and her throat parched from screaming.

Abruptly her eyes flew open as she felt little claws digging into her lacerated back. She twisted as much as she could to see one pf the demons had climbed up onto her back, using his clawed toes to grip her flesh. It stood facing her feet. One hand holding a short metal rod, like a riding crop but with wicked little points along its length. The other hand was employed in stroking the creature's hardened phallus.

With the trolls weight atop her Satyra's head was dragged around by hands grasping her ram's horns. She was made to look at the leader again as more clawed fingers grabbed her ass from either side.

'The cunt needs to beg us,' the chief Yukhoth hissed. Satyra's face twisted with disgust and she shook her head violently, pulling away from him.

At a nod from his leader the troll on her back swung the quirt down between Satyra's spread butt cheeks. The barbed metal crashed into the sensitive cleft, the pins gouging the rim of her anus and the small, intense pace between her sphincter and her genitals.

'Eeeerrrrrgghhgg!' came the beautiful red-head's gurgling cry, as she tried to clench her ass but was prevented by the clawed hands gripping the full round flesh. The rod swept up and down again, wrenching another cry from the prisoner.

'Beg!' barked the Yukhoth. Satyra did not even have time to refuse before she was struck again, the pain making her heave on the slab. The tender zone was struck by the barbed rod over and over, the pain hammering at her without respite. She cried out brokenly, sobbing and struggling hopelessly. Even after the exotic tortures she had witnessed and endured, the simple brutality and humiliation of being viciously and sadistically beaten while a helpless captive was deeply horrifying. With each blow that made her yelp and twist the Yukhoth exercised their power over her at the most base level, the most primitive and disgusting need for the male to hurt and dominate the female. Unlike the efforts of Sadiste, and Vulgus, and even the Romans, the Yukhoth punishment of her body was untempered by the trappings of culture or sophistication. They understood only that they wanted to hurt her, to take pleasure in her suffering, and they adopted the most direct and simple route to bring about that suffering. The demons not otherwise occupied frigged their jutting cocks shamelessly as they watched her sweat-slick body wriggling across the unyielding surface, the moist flesh of her breasts and belly clinging damply to the stone when she twisted and stretched and shuddered, unable to protect herself from the crop tearing between her asshole and pussy again and again.

Satyra screamed as they hit her, each time they hit her. Sometimes between strokes she would sob a prayer of deliverance. Sometime she would curse them. Mostly though she just sobbed and squirmed and screamed until her throat cracked.

How long they beat her ass, ten minutes or an hour or a day, Satyra did not know. Her universe was the creature on her back and the agony in her rear. Claws holding her buttocks painfully apart changed over and over as the demons took turns with the duties of her torture. The claws gouged the ripe mounds and the blood ran down to join the red fluid already mingled with her salty perspiration. At intervals she would feel the warm spray of demonic cum as a Yukhoth unloaded his pulsing cock over her back or hair or tear-stained face while it howled and gibbered in ecstasy.

But finally there came a stop. Satyra did not know how long it was after they actually ceased flogging her that she regained enough awareness to realize they had stopped. She only knew they had, and she lay drawing deep full breaths. Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt swollen. Tears and sticky sweat and drops of vile semen coated her face. Her green glowing eyes were half closed as she lay immobile, still chained.

Without warning the chains at her wrists and ankles tugged and fell away. She blinked groggily, then gasped as Yukhoth hands grabbed her arms and legs, the later running up to scratch at her crotch. Swiftly and unceremoniously she was flipped over onto her back, the manacles snapping back into place just as Satyra became aware enough to start struggling. She winced as he tortured back was slammed against the stone, but already the dark magic had almost healed those wounds. Even the scars had begun to fade.

Lifting her head Satyra found the chief Yukhoth standing between her feet hanging just past the edge of the slab. At a signal from him two demons near her head adjusted the length on her wrist chains, pulling her hands up past the top edge of the stone so that her forearms were drawn down towards the floor, the crook of her elbow bent at right angles over the rim of the rock. Her body was forced up along the smooth stone surface so that her shoulder blades were resting at the very top end, her head hanging in space as her red foaming hair tumbled down towards the ground.

Satyra felt the tightening of the muscles in her neck and shoulders to keep her head raised. Looking down between her legs she saw the demon staring lecherously at her full white breasts with their pale nips, enhanced by the position of her arms. She knew letting her head fall back would accentuate their upward curve further and so stoically kept her head level, glaring down at the ugly little beast.

'Sexy cunt,' the demon growled, admiring her tits and also stroking her lower leg as its yellow eyes drifted down over her belly. 'Sexy and stupid. Cunt wants us to hurt it more?'

'Fuck you,' Satyra snapped, and was surprised to hear the base words leap from her mouth. As a priestess she had trained to subdue such impulses, especially given the wild nature of her satyr heritage, but her recent experiences were testing that discipline.

The demon blinked and glowered at her. 'Cunt's for Vulgus,' he snarled, his desires easy to read as he stared at her copper crested femaleness. He turned to one of his subordinates. 'Find a cunt we can fuck.'

The creature gibbered and jogged off, and the lead demon signalled. Two of the other Yukhoth stepped up on either side of the prisoner, holding the wicked leather thong whips again. 'Make it scream like a pig,' he commanded.