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Part XIII
Dark Passions
In the depths of the night-cloaked northern forest, a woman stirred in her sleep and moaned.
The dreams tormented Conine as they always did. Her sisters screamed as they were dragged by the Romans to the whipping posts, to the torture chambers, to the flat, cum stained wooden frames in the soldiers barracks. Satyra screamed as she was carried away by Gracus men, who tied her to a tree and cut her with their swords til her body was covered head to toe in blood. And then Gracus came and she was lifted up onto the cross while her sisters that she had failed hurled abuse at her, coming up beside the laughing Roman and the ramming the iron nails into her flesh, leaving her die hideously.
She wept, in the dream and in the real world. She had failed them all. She was not clever enough, was not strong enough. All her fault.
When the ground in her dream opened beneath her, she did not question it. When she toppled into the yawing abyss, she did not struggle to escape. She deserved damnation, deserved to fall. And fall she did, for what seemed like an eternity, as the howls of the thrice damned rose up to meet her.
Satyra, she sobbed, Satyra forgive me my love. I failed you.
I failed you all.
***
Satyra stared at the unconscious form of Conine in wonder and fear.
Part of her surprise was how much her lover had changed. Even with her head lying on the stone floor, it was obvious the warrior woman’s hair was much longer, curling down around her breasts and broad back where it had once been cropped short about her shoulders. She still wore her leather boots and greaves, but in place of her armour she was now clad in two strips of buckskin; one as a loincloth, the other to cover the generous curves of her chest. She appeared leaner as well, her already toned figure now somewhat more muscular in appearance without having added any mass. The marks of the whip upon her bronzed skin had faded to dim stripes, faint reminders of the ugly wounds that had adorned her hanging on the cross.
Satyra looked at Conine and new immediately that these changes, however subtle, were not ones that could be accomplished in days, or even weeks.
How long had she been in the Underworld?
Satyra stepped around the gently breathing warrior woman and brought the priestess back from her musings. ‘She looks so peaceful,’ she said, staring down at the defenceless Chevaan. ‘And so beautiful.’ She glanced up at Satyra. ‘Shall we wake her?’
Satyra made a gurgling sound through the bit, and her eyes should growing panic. ‘Yes, lets,’ Sadiste said, eyes narrowing in evil pleasure. ‘A reunion between two lovers – what could be better than that? She will awake, and then she will see her darling priestess again – that is what you want, isn’t it?’
Satyra gave a small sob, thinking of Conine seeing her. More than anything, she wanted to be with the raven-haired warrior, to feel her strong arms around and loose herself in those shining blue eyes. But for Conine to see her like this, bound and degraded, a thing to suffer at the whims of these degenerate fiends, was a thought that left her sick inside. She would rather die than have her beloved see her like this.
Sadiste sensed her horror and smiled more widely. ‘What’s the matter Satyra, don’t you want her to see you. Don’t you think she would enjoy it, getting to see you hang in Krool’s machine with hooks through your tits, moaning like a common whore? Do you think she might be repulsed at dead white skin, or would she be more disgusted by the way you have your dripping pussy peeled open like a piece of fruit so anyone can fuck you whenever they like?’
Satyra gave a wordless cry of rage, trembling and hurting herself against the barbs, but Sadiste knew it was not physical pain that brought tears to the corner of the ram horned beauty’s eyes.
‘Well,’ said Sadiste with a shrug that made her full breasts jiggle, ‘lets find out.’
Without further comment, the demoness stepped over, kneeling down beside the sleeping woman’s head. As Satyra’s eyes when wide with horror, she whispered softly, ‘Conine; awake.’
***
The tickling in her ear brought Conine instantly to the alert. She rolled forward, hands up and ready to protect her, eyes blazing, and saw…
Something that made those eyes grow wide.
Kneeling next to her, hair like spun copper, bronze skin and long curling rams horns framing a face like a goddess, with glowing green eyes full of warmth. She paused for a heartbeat, then crossed the short space between them like a pouncing cat, wrapping the kneeling woman in her arms in a crushing embrace while her body trembled with emotion, tears welling up behind her long lashes.
‘Satyra,’ she whispered, her voice breaking. ‘Oh Goddess, it’s you. My love. My love!’
***
Satyra watched as Conine pounced upon the red demoness, knowing that her lover was a match for any natural foe but terrified of what Sadiste’s power would do to her mortal beloved. But then she saw that Conine was not wrestling with her, just hugging the red-skinned she-devil and sobbing. Sadiste’s arms were around Conine as well, the two of them breast to breast, kneeling together. Then Sadiste pulled back her head and dipped her head forward, her lips finding the Chevaan’s.
As Satyra watched aghast, Conine returned the kiss with passion her lips covering Sadiste’s in heated display, the two women’s tongues dipping and licking inside each other’s mouths. Small moans came from both, and Conine’s hands roamed over Sadiste’s back, pulling Satyra’s enemy against her own lush curves as she broke the kiss and buried her face against the side of her neck, covering it with kisses and small, passionate bites of her teeth. ‘Satyra,’ the priestess heard Conine sigh between nips.
And she understood.
Sadiste looked over her shoulder, seeing the dawning anguish in the redhead’s eyes. ‘That’s right, my dear, your little plaything has her fondest wish, and you have yours – to see her again, safe and happy.’ She paused as Conine’s tongue found a sensitive spot on her neck, making her sigh in pleasure. Her talking to Satyra apparently did not disturb whatever illusion the devil woman had used to bewitch the dark haired warrior into believing Sadiste was the Chevaan priestess hanging in chains less than ten feet away. ‘Very happy, indeed, it seems. I can…oh, that’s nice…see the attraction. Mmmmm. She really does like you, doesn’t she?’ Her yellow eyes became spiteful. ‘Though you would think with such love she’d be able to tell a fake, wouldn’t you?’
Satyra’s only reply was another gagged shriek as she watched her lover nuzzle the shoulder of the woman who had repeatedly tortured her.
‘Oh, I’m sorry my dear,’ Sadiste purred softly, fingers in Conine’s hair. ‘How rude of me. You should not be forced to merely watch. Krool?’
Satyra started and saw the rag-clad demon, standing next to her, holding something in his hand. He moved and pressed it to Satyra’s shoulder.
Pain blossomed in the priestess’ flesh as the jaws of the tongs closed around her flesh, grinding the white softness between them. The heads bore wicked little metal teeth that pierced the skin so that blood trickled down over the Chevaan’s arm and she groaned. She tried to pull away, giving another sharper cry as her jerking movement brought fresh stabs of anguish to her pierced tits and womanhood.
‘That’s it, my dear,’ Sadiste sighed to the squirming captive as Conine lowered the demoness towards the stone floor, still kissing her long red neck. ‘Relax and enjoy .’
Conine shifted her lips so that she was showering Sadiste’s shoulder with light, fervent kisses. The demoness groaned languidly, rubbing slowly against the warrior’s curvaceous body. Conine let her weight fall fully on top of Sadiste, pressing their bodies together while one hand wriggled down to cup a full red breast and flick the nipple to dark hardness.
In her bondage, Satyra watched in despair and heartbreak, but was quickly distracted by Krool’s continuing attentions. Watching the action with gibbering delight, he used the tongs to bruise and maul Satyra’s shoulders. As Conine’s finger teased and fondled the demon nipple beneath her, Krool reached around to give the wire running to one of Satyra’s nipple-rings a viscous tug, making her jump and squeal shrilly.
It took little effort to see Sadiste’s intentions for this torment. Whatever Conine did with the demoness was perversely mirrored by Krool’s attentions to the captive priestess. When Conine craned her head up to gently kiss the nape of Sadiste’s throat, Krool used a thick rope to strangle the helpless priestess until she gurgled for air. When the warrior’s strong hands roamed down to grasp Sadiste’s waist, Krool used a short whip to lash Satyra’s sides, making her squirm. And when her lover dipped her head and suckled gently at each of Sadiste’s impressive chest-globes, Satyra cried out wretchedly as the little horror with her used the metal tongs to brutalize her tender white orbs, leaving the smooth curves of flesh a mass of rapidly healing bruises and dull wounds that oozed blood over her white skin.
Down on the stone floor Sadiste groaned in pleasure at the attention Conine was showering on her with hands and lips and the pressure of her ripe, lithe figure. The Chevaan warrior sought out every curve and dip of the demoness body with a passion that left even the sexually accomplished Underworlder panting.
Shifting her body, she grabbed Conine’s hair, pulling her head up to stare into her eyes. Thanks to the magic she had prepared earlier the fierce warrior woman saw only the image of her beautiful satyr horned lover, but the carnal fire that had been kindled in the demoness lit those of the illusion as well as the two women lay together, breathing quickly. Krool stopped mauling Satyra’s tits and pulled her head up to watch.
‘Do you want me, Conine,’ Sadiste breathed. She stroked the Chevaan’s smooth cheek with the back of her hand.
‘Yes,’ Conine replied, without hesitation. Sadiste smiled at the reply and the answering moan from Satyra in her bondage.
Sadiste leaned closer. ‘Do you want to fuck me?’ the masquerading demoness asked.
Conine hesitated, just for a split second. ‘Fuck you?’ she asked.
In the pain harness, Satyra watched with just a glimmer of hope. Though they had only been together a short time, Conine would know the priestess well enough to realise the question was out of character.
Conine, it’s not me, she thought desperately, trying to send a message to her warrior partner but force of will. Please, here me.
Sadiste also sensed the pause, but she pressed on. Her hand found Conine’s left breast, cupping it and fingering the tense nipple. ‘I need you to fuck me, Conine,’ she whispered. Conine closed her eyes as little tinglings of pleasure raced from her breast peak. ‘I need you to say it.’
‘Satyra,’ the warrior moaned, eyes fluttering as she smiled.
‘Yes, I’m here,’ Sadiste cooed. She moved to press her body against Conine’s, leaning forward and biting her ear gently, playing with the lobe as her hand slid down to brush over the sword-woman’s flat belly. She felt it quiver at her touch, Conine’s hand coming up to run through her hair. ‘Tell you want me to fuck you, Conine.’ She pressed her tits against the Chevaan’s so they pillowed together. ‘Tell me you want to fuck me, too.’
Conine groaned, biting her lip. She moved so that she was kneeling with Sadiste facing her, bodies still in contact. Her free hand moved down to cup the demoness tight backside.
No, Satyra though desperately. There was a smack and she gave a muffled yelp as Krool used a wooden paddle to begin beating her own derriere. Fresh tears moistened her eyes. No.
Sadiste smiled, licking the soft curve of Conine’s ear with a deft tongue. Her hand skimmed the surface of the Chevaan’s cleft, teasing it and feeling the moisture seeping from within. She smiled in dark pleasure. ‘Oh Goddess, Conine, you feel so good,’ she whispered. ‘I need you so much.’
Conine gasped, pushing herself against the hand so that it rubbed her intimately. Her finger found the crack between two demon ass-cheeks and squeezed between them.
Satyra grunted as the torturer spread her backside cruelly, using a talon to slash painfully between her own buttocks.
‘Say it.’ Sadiste groaned. ‘Tell me what you want, Conine.’
Conine let go of Sadiste’s hair and grabbed her backside with both hands, pulling her against the warrior, the devil-woman’s hand sandwiched between their damp love-mounds.
Satyra closed her eyes as Krool dropped the paddle and seized a short whip. The thongs smacked against her ass and curled under to sting her pussy lips, making her tremble in pain.
‘Say it, my love!’ Sadiste gasped, her finger sliding past two soft dewy petals and finding a cavern of liquid warmth, soft and inviting. ‘Say you want to fuck me!’
Conine cried out and pulled Sadiste away, holding her by the arms as she looked at her with desire burning brightly in her blue eyes, chest heaving with passion.
‘Yes,’ she said fiercely. Satyra sobbed in despair, ‘I want to fuck you. And I want you to fuck me.’ She pulled the illusion-clad demoness against her, kissing her wildly and pushing her onto the ground. ‘Right now!’
Conine moved over Sadiste’s crimson nakedness, her lips covering the demon-woman’s again as she kissed her hungrily. Sadiste matched her passion and moved twined her arms around Conine’s head, drawing her down onto her as she spread her long red legs in greeting.
Satyra watched in total horror as her love ground herself against the Underworlder, tears streaming down her white face. Her world was dying in front of her eyes. But she did not have the luxury even of her sorrow – no sooner had Conine and Sadiste begun their carnal frenzy than the gibbering Krool appeared in front of her again, carrying a wicked looking curved knife. With undisguised relish, the creature reached up with the blade and dragged it across the tops of her breasts.
‘Nnnnnnnnrrrrrhhhhh,’ Satyra gasped, feeling the warm blood flowing down over her as the edge of the knife gouged her open. She jerked backwards, filling her nipples with fresh pain, but there was no escape. Krool brought the blade down and cut her again, a line from her sternum to her navel that sliced the skin and into the muscles that held in her organs so that Satyra gurgled horribly, her blood running down onto the metal floor.
Slobbering, Krool bent its head forward and she felt a vile little tongue lapping at her wounds, probing past the rent flesh and suckling at the hot blood. Thanks to Sadiste’s magic her injuries were already healing, preventing her from bleeding out, but the knife went to work again, opening another gash in her thing, then up on her left breast. Cut and lick, cut and lick, the horror went on as Satyra could hear the moans of the two women sexing each other only a few feet away, knowing that one of them was the woman she loved.
Through the anguish, she remembered when the soldiers had had her in the forest, tied to a tree so that they could cut her with their swords, laughing as she bled and hurt. Conine had saved her then – leapt in and taken on three Roman soldiers to save Satyra.
Cut and lick. It hurt so much.
She remembered being with Conine in the cave, on the run, and the warrior never even thought of leaving her behind to escaped the patrols. Lying close in the night because they could not risk a fire, using their bodies to warm themselves, and those strong arms around her, protecting her. She had felt completely safe in those arms, wanting Conine to do more and at the same time so deeply moved that the raven-haired warrior took no advantage of her as she recovered from her ordeal.
Cut and lick. Her thighs bleed. Her body bleeds. Her breasts bleed. Too much blood for the creature to lap up, but he doesn’t mind wasting it. Cut and lick; carving her like a piece of meat while she bites on the bit wanting to scream her throat raw, hearing Sadiste purring into Conine’s ear, Conine begging her not to stop touching her.
Satyra remembered at the mountain lake, coming upon Conine as she was lost to passion, seeing the warriors strong hands touching herself and wishing it was her skin those hands were gliding over, her breasts they were squeezing so tenderly, her sex that those quick nimble fingers were exploring. And at the same time wanting to touch Conine too, to please her in so many ways, to show her haw grateful she was for risking everything for her.
Cut and Lick. Screaming, sobbing.
Sadiste was beside herself with pleasure, her sex rubbing powerfully together with the Chevaan warriors as both women unleashed their desire on the other. She looked over and saw Satyra bleeding from a dozen painful wounds while the vile little torturer was using his tongue like a thirsty hound. She wrapped her legs around Conine’s waist and pumped, their mounds slick by now with their juices, Conine panting and moaning wantonly. Sadiste shifted her weight and rolled them over, coming up to lie on the dark haired woman, putting her hands around her narrow waist to give her additional leverage to keep their glistening sexes meshed together. Conine responded by lifting her hips, taking Sadiste’s full weight with her pelvis and drawing a trembling moan from the demoness as the women’s nether lips met in a rapturous kiss.
As the warrior women pumped her womanhood urgently against Sadiste’s wet centre, the disguised hellion looked over to enjoy Satyra’s suffering. Krool appeared to have abandoned the jagged knife for a rusty metal bar, which he was now using to beat the centre of Satyra’s exposed vagina, pummelling the soft pink meat mercilessly while the impacts made the priestess lower body jerk in ways that sent pain racing out from her pierced labia.
In the midst of her suffering the satyr-girls eyes opened for a moment, and she stared across to see the demoness looking at her, red face ablaze with passion. Sadiste smiled at the tortured Chevaan and cast back her head, crying out in delight as the pressure of Conine’s love-flower against her clit brought her to climax.
Satyra hung watching the demoness ride Conine passionately, her own feminine flesh throbbing in agony and bleeding from the repeated blows with the metal rod. The cruel barbs threatened to tear her labia to pieces, blood oozing from the pierced folds and dripping down from inside her where the force of the blows had ruptured her inside. Shards of broken bone from her pelvis floated inside her flesh like pieces of glass as body knit itself back together.
‘She’s really fucking me silly,’ came Sadiste’s voice in her ear.
Satyra opened her eyes to see the demoness standing next to her, then with a start realised Sadiste was looking over at herself still riding the frenzy of Conine’s sexual tempest. As they watched, the Sadiste still fucking winked at her double and the priestess and bent double, thrusting her ass into Conine’s face while she brought her own down over the Chevaan warrior bubbling pussy.
‘Oh, she likes that,’ the Sadiste with Satyra commented. Blinking Satyra could detect just a hint of transparency about the Sadiste talking to her. A projected image. ‘I can feel how much she does. Hellfire, she’s wet.’ She grinned. ‘But then, so am I.’
Conine had grabbed the first demoness’ ass again, and Satyra grunted as Krool began flaying her own backside with a strip of barbed leather.
‘I can see why you decided to keep her alive,’ the image went on. ‘She’s amazing – one of the best I’ve had, and I’ve had plenty. It was so thoughtful of you to save her from the cross for me.’
Satyra gave another shriek as the lash opened her flesh. Blood dripped down onto the floor from the tears in her buttocks.
‘Why, I she’d died, I’d never have known how well she rubs that warrior cunt of hers against mine. And those tits – the look in her eyes when I suck them is incredible, a real wanton slut.’ Satyra closed her eyes and tried not to hear the words. ‘Just think, if you hadn’t agreed to be tortured in hell, I’d never have known what a whore like this could do with her tongue.’ The image fingered herself, pushing two knuckles up past her pussy lips. ‘Oh, yes, she’s licking my tummy. What a tease, but I can feel her fingers pulling at my pussy lips.’
Krool reached around and jerked at the wires running to Satrya’s sex hooks. ‘GGGGLLLLRRRRRR’ howled the gagged Chevaan.
‘Oh, she’s blowing on my cunt,’ gasped Sadiste’s projection. ‘Oh, fuck, she’s good. Oh, lick me Conine please,’ she sighed, the last said simultaneously with the real Sadiste as she lifted her head from between the warrior’s legs. ‘Use your tongue on me, I beg you.’
Conine made no reply but lifted her head. For just a second Satyra would have sworn that her lover looked right at her, but then the dark haired woman’s face disappeared as she applied her lovely mouth to the task of Sadiste’s hairless demon quim.
Krool came stumbling around in front of Satyra, trembling with excitement. The image of Sadiste licked her lips, eyes narrowed din pleasure. ‘Her mouth,’ she groaned. ‘Oh fuck, her tongue.’ The demoness smiled in ecstasy, then looked down at her helpless prisoner. ‘Your turn too, sweetness.’
Krool gave a slobbering cackle and reached to the mechanism on the acid bottle over Satrya’s spread womanhood. The red head watched eyes wide with denial and terror.
Krool turned the tap, and a single green drop formed on the spout, then fell onto Satyra’s exposed pussy.
The effect was instant. As the burning fluid splashed against the inside to the prisoner’s labia, The Chevaan went completely rigid, her whole body spasming as burning pain raced out from her sexual centre and infused her with its awful heat. She could feel the venom burning her, eating into her flesh. It entered her blood and made it boil. It found her nerve endings and turned them into searing needles.
And then more drops fell. Soaking into her outer lips, her pink folds, seeping inside her.
Satyra’s mouth clamped down on the bit so hard she felt teeth cracking, blood oozing from the corners of her mouth. She lost control of her body, jerking like a puppet on the strings of a deranged master. The hooks in her nipples and pussy lips tore at the tender flesh as she convulsed uncontrollably.
‘NNNNNNNNNRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!’
Sadiste watched Satyra and felt Conine. Eyes closed as she lapped attentively at the musky sex of the warrior, she could see through her sending's eyes the helpless priestess in agony as she felt Satyra’s lover flicking her demon clit with her tongue, pulling the bud into her mouth to suck on it. As Conine’s attentions grew more urgent, the acid venom dripped faster.
Satyra was almost out of her mind with pain. Krool was letting the acid run as he used whips and knives to turn her splayed body into a bloody canvass, so much blood that she looked almost a red as the demoness being fucked by her lover. Fucked by her lover. The words played over and over in her agony-drowned mind, torturing her soul while the demons demolished her body. She could somehow hear Sadiste’s sounds of delight, begging Conine not to stop. And mingled with those groaning pleas Conine’s own sighs and whimpers of pleasure, racing towards climax from the evil that was smashing Satyra’s universe into howling fragments.
It’s not fair, Satyra’s mind screamed. It’s not right. Conine, please, help me!
Sadiste felt her orgasm building, the world contracting down to where the woman under her was using her mouth to make her feel wonderful. She turned her head to look back over her shoulder, face wet with the juice of Conine’s arousal. ‘Oh goddess,’ gasped, knowing it was Satyra’s face the warrior saw, Satrya’s voice she heard. ‘Oh shit, Conine, fuck me with your tongue.’
Conine grabbed Sadiste’s ass so hard it felt like she would tear her open, plunging her tongue into the demoness molten slit. ‘Don’t stop,’ Conine hissed between forays into the wet valley.
Conine, no, Satyra’s mind pleaded desperately, as the venom scalded her sex, it’s not me!
‘Tell me to fuck you, Conine,’ Sadiste urged, fingers deep in Chevaan pussy. ‘Tell me you need it.’
‘Oh, Goddess yes, I need you so much,’ Conine half wept. Her incredible body squirmed against the crimson hellions. ‘Please, yes, fuck me, my love, please.’
Satyra’s mind reeled. How could Conine say that, how could she not know? A metal blade pierced her right tit, and the venom boiled away inside her tender woman-flesh. She howled in pain, she writhed, betrayed, her soul screaming as loudly as her body. The caustic liquid ate its way into her, bubbling acid fire filling all her femininity. Spittle and blood flew from around the gag as she shook in the torture harness, tearing her tits and labia to shreds.
Sadiste saw the moment arrive. ‘Tell me I’m the best you’ve ever had, pet,’ she slurred to Conine, drunk with sex. Her fingers wriggled deep inside Chevaan pussy, holding the muscular warrior at the very edge of ecstasy. ‘Tell me no one has ever fucked you like me.’
No, Satrya’s mind screamed.
‘Oh, fuck, fuck, FUCK!’ Conine groaned, body awash in pleasure. Her head fell back from Sadiste’s soaking mons, licking the sweet nectar from her lips.
Sadiste spat on the warrior woman clit, blowing on it, rimming her pussy with her tongue. ‘Say it, Conine.’
NO! Satyra wanted to howl, as metal hook stabbed into her anus, lifting her bleeding ass so that the foul acid inside her sluiced back out, tracing a scalding path down over her thighs as it burned out of her sex-channel.
‘Say it,’ Sadiste commanded, her fingers plunging back into Conine’s wet cunt and working her buzzing clitoris to the point of pain, her lips dipping to suck the bud so hard that the warrior woman opened her mouth wide and screamed
‘Oh fuck me yes! YES! YOU’RE THE BEST, MY LOVE! THE BEST!!!’
‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!’
The shackles holding Satyra’s arms above her head shattered like glass, metal fragments shrapnelling across the chamber. She screamed again, and her body sudden exploded with eldritch force, energy like black lightning running over her naked form, consuming her bonds in an instant. Free of all restraints she fell, landing on her feet, eyes blazing with dark power as Krool gibbered in panic.
At the sound Satyra whirled. Krool shrieked and ran, barely clearing the metal platform before a bolt of sable energy impaled him through the back and sent him hurtling into the far wall, the force of the impact leaving him lying like a sack of wet meat on the floor. Sadiste had rolled out from under Conine by now and was rising to her stand over the uncomprehending Chevaan, but before she had time to raise her hands or mouth in incantation Satyra was on her.
‘YOU FUCKING EVIL BITCH!’ the priestess screamed, her fist slamming into the demon woman’s jaw with a crack like thunder and snapping her head around. Sadiste reeled back and then suddenly the red-skinned Underworlder was pinioned in a web of blazing power, crackling currents of energy racing across her body, making Sadiste arch her back as the terrible midnight fire ripped scream after scream from the writhing demoness.
‘I’ll kill you, you soulless slut!’ Satyra raged, the power from her hands making the room tremble and the air reel of dark magic. Sadiste could do no more than wail helplessly as the bolts twisted her in their grip ‘til it seemed her lovely red body must be torn apart by the forces ripping through it. ‘I’LL KILL YOU!’
But before the priestess could make good on her words, she was suddenly knocked from her feet, a body slamming into her from below and carrying her to the rocky floor. Instantly strong smooth hands gripped her wrists, trying to pin her, and Satyra’s midnight eyes stared up into those of Conine, seeing no recognition, no remorse, only deadly intent.
‘I don’t know what you are,’ the warrior growled, straining to hold he lover down, ‘but if you’ve hurt her…’
‘You don’t know,’ Satyra growled, the rage swelling in her again. ‘You don’t KNOW?!’
Again, the power blazed out, arcing from Satrya’s fingers and racing up Conine’s arms and into her body, her head snapping back as her mouth flew open in silent pain. ‘I suffered for you! I screamed in hell… for YOU!’ Conine trembled in the grip of the awful lightning, and Satyra ripped one hand free and used it so seize the helpless warrior woman by the throat as she surged back to her feet. ‘The things they DID to me! The torture; the violation; the PAIN!’ The bolts searing Conine grew more frenzied, and the dark haired Chevaan gave a long gargling scream as her skin was scorched, her legs kicking spasmodically while her body convulsed and her firm breasts quivered as they were licked by sable fire, the charge running along her arms, across her belly, down to her bared mons. The warrior’s heart felt ready to explode from the pain. ‘All for you, and YOU…’
‘AAARRRGGGGGHHH!!!’
‘…DON’T…’
‘AAAHHH…AAA….EEEYYAAAAAHHHHHH!!!’
‘…KNOW!’
Satrya’s beautiful face was twisted into something bestial. Her all black eyes looked up at her victim with nothing remotely like mercy or compassion as the naked woman screamed horribly, tear filled eyes staring at her, and suddenly going wide with something beyond terror, beyond agony.’
‘S…Satyra…?’
The simple word cut through the priestess hurt and rage, hollowing her. She blinked, and suddenly Conine was staring down at her in grief and confusion, even as blood rand down over her bare breasts from Satyra’s grip around her throat, even as she trembled with the lingering pain of the lightning. ‘Oh Goddess alive…Satyra,’ Conine half gasped, half sobbed. ‘What have they done to you?’
Satyra saw the horror and pity in her lover’s eyes, cutting her like a blade. She saw the white hand like a claw digging into Conine’s throat, threatening to strangle her, and the burns from her lightning peppering the soft smooth flesh with patches of suffering. Her hand flew open and the warrior dropped at her feet, sprawling on the stonework as she reeled back in terrible understanding.
‘Conine,’ she whispered. ‘Oh my love, what have I done?’ She took a small step forward, and the sudden fear in the warrior woman eyes struck her like a physical blow. ‘Conine, forgive…’ she began, but without warning there was a flash of light, and a sound like a great wind sweeping through the noisome cavern, and a woman confused cry.
And Conine was gone.
Satyra stared a moment at the place where he love had lain, then past it to where Sadiste lay near the far wall, her hand outstretched from having cancelled the summoning that had brought the human Chevaan to the Underworld, even as she had cancelled the illusion that had prevented Conine from seeing her surrounds truly. All this comprehension flashed through Satyra’s mind in barely an instant, but before she could act on her understanding, a bolt of dark flame lashed out and struck her from behind, enveloping her in its fury and dashing her senseless to the ground.
Sadiste stood slowly, rubbing her bare shoulder where she had slammed into the rock wall. From the shadows near the door, the demon Vhyl padded into view, his forked spear still emitting small wisps of flame as he stared down at the felled Priestess with satisfaction.
‘You took your time,’ Sadiste complained, moving up next to the black skinned devil as she stood over Satyra. ‘She might have killed the warrior bitch had you tarried longer.’
‘What of it?’ the demon sneered. ‘Besides,’ he added, looking her naked red form up and down, ‘I liked how you looked in pain.’
Sadiste ignored the comment and the frank lust in Vhyl’s stare and gestured to Krool where the torturous demon cringed beside the wrecked harness. The raggedy creature darted forward and began again securing the white skinned prisoner. ‘She is not yet ready to kill her friends,’ Sadiste explained to the lumbering demon warrior. She crouched beside the lovely half satyr, fingering her red hair. ‘One final test to endure, and she will be ours without hope of salvation.’
Satyra full red lips parted and a soft and piteous moan escaped between them. Sadiste smiled and on a sudden impulse bent down, brushing those soft lips with the dark velvet caress of her own.
For the briefest of instants, as the women lips touched lightly, a spark of eldritch power tingled between them, masked by the lingering fury unleashed within the cavern.
But not far away, the blue skinned Zaraeth blinked and smiled in the servicing of her lord Vulgus’ rampant male organ. And in the black and tormented recesses of Satyra’s unconscious mind, a tiny flicker of hope lit the darkness.
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