Ravager Scourges of the Eastern Fringe – Epilogue
Introduction:
The Epilogue to this tragic yet succulent Dark Fantasy, introducing our Heroines Elise and Syne
Elise knew it had not always been this way. Once, she had been a proud marine in the small but skilled planetary defense force of the fledgling colony of Priivar V. She vaguely remembered being there for several years – but recent events had clouded all of this away. Her old life was gone – This was her new life. She did not know how long she had been here, only that she had been in pain since the stun blast hit her.
Yes, she thought, gathering her muddled thoughts – the stun blast. She had been in the mess hall of their barracks playing chess with her long time friend and comrade, Syne. They had struck without warning, a blast taking down the door as they charged in, obliterating the barracks with volleys of stun blasts, immobalizing every living being there. She had felt the wave of the stun blast hit her, throw her backward, and freeze all the muscles in her body. But her mind was still painfully awake and clear.
She remembered that the colony of Priivar V had fallen without a fight, as all of its inhabitants were dragged off into the wicked shape of their landing craft. It was then they had locked them in small cells, with small spikes that, while not sharp enough to puncture the skin, doug into ones body most painfully. She did not know how long she had stayed there, writhing as the effects of the stun blast wore off.
Eventually, their captors came for them. They had lined the women up in a hallway filled with cruel spikes upon every vertical surface. The floor was made of the same spikes as the cage, and it hurt their feet – several collapsed then and there. It was then the Priestesses came to them.
They were beutifal, their skin resonating like marble. They were the fairest women any of them had ever seen, save for the sharp implements that could be discerned as armor they bore upon their scantily clad bodies and the cruel, inhuman glint in their eyes.
Again without warning, they attacked, throwing the shackled women to the floor and viciously tearing their garmants from them, until they were all naked. Then they had drug them to their feet again, this time for inspection by the most beuitiful of them all, the Preistess they were to come to know as Tallosia. She had unfurled a long whip that seemed to writhe with a life of its own. With this, she had struck the first woman in the line upon the breasts. She screamed and fainted. Tallosias cruel voice had spit out feircly, “Send her to the Chambers.” The next in the line was poor Syne, who was trembling with fear. She struck her upon the breasts too. She screamed in pain, but did not faint nor fall. I leaned toward her to help her before the cold hands of the Preistesses behind me bore me back. Tallosia had not missed the gesture.
“Friends, are you? Then perhaps you both share the same promise – ” and she had struck Elise with the whip. The whip could not have been of normal material – it bit deep, feeling like a thousand tiny spikes had all driven themselves into her breasts and burned her. She had screamed then as well, stumbling, but staying erect.
Tallosia seemed exuberant at this. “Drag them to the Temple! They shall make fine subjects. And now, for the rest of you…” she had turned away, just as preistesses had seized the hair of Syne and Elise and borne them away to the Temple.
Her life had been a nightmare since then. She had, for possibly months, spent 16 hours a day as a test subject for the aptly named Preistesses of Pain. The remaining 8 hours, she was bound up in some dark corner, like to this statue, and left in the most painful position possible to “rest”, and fed some vile meal that she still devoured out of sheer hunger before being forgotten until her turn came up again.
Her body still shook as it recovered from her past 16 hours of torment. She no-longer even knew what they had done to her, only that each day had been worse then the last. Then, her mind could think no more, and she slumped, her mind sinking into the abyss of sleep, only dimly registering that her old comrade, Syne, was similarly bound to the chest of a standing statue across from her, her body already drooped in sleep.
But always, she knew, it would begin again…..
—-
It was the blazing hot touch of the tip of a heated pole upon Elise’ clit that brought her screaming back to conciousness. Her scream echoed down the great corridor of statues, to be joined within moments by the scream of Syne as another red-hot rod was brought momentarily against her clit to wake her.
Even as the pain had begun to fade, Elise realised that even now she could not cry. She had no tears left for herself – For no one at all, in fact. She remembered how the first time she had cried, right after being drug away from Tallosia and into the Temple, the Priestess had suspended her, spread-eagle, and flogged her with a barbed whip for hours. The Priestess screamed that she would whip her a hundred times for every tear she shed, yet Elise could not stop her tears from running down her face. Even when she passed out, that whip would bring her back to conciousness with its stinging touch. For her full allotment of 16 hours that whipping had continued. She had cried after being locked away, cried for her entire eight hours of rest. Her attendant preistess had watched her. After the course of two weeks, the preistess had indeed dug into her flesh with that whip a hundred times for every tear she had shed, and she had not shed a single tear since then.
She and Syne were on their knees now, two Monks of Torture infront of them, each holding a red-hot wand. Presently, one spoke, his soft, evil voice clawing at the shreds of Elise’ sanity.
“You’ve been to the Altar of Gratified Flesh once before, have you not?” his voice hissed out. A reply, little more then a beleagured moan, issued from Syne. “Ye..s…”
“Indeed. The previous time was for simply living through the Dance of Duplicity, was it not? You have now survived for three more months. You shall be rewarded, then, with the personal audience of Preistessqueen of Pain, Tallosia, upon the Altar of Gratified Flesh. You know the way.” They moved behind the women, now, brandishing their wands. “Then forward, little sheep.” they spoke, and pressed their burning wands upon the captives’ ass holes. With a howl, they surged forward, their chains rattling as they were dragged over the spikey floor.
Alas, Elise knew that this would be nothing to the personal audience of Tallosia. For a moment, she wondered if she would live through the next sixteen hours, and then realised that the Scourges would not let her die. They would hurt her, and go on hurting her – But her train of thought was cut off as one of the Preists’ wands slapped across her pussies lips.
— To Be Continued in
Ravager Scourges of the Eastern Fringe, Chapter 1: Tallosia’s Gift
