PRESTIRA
They tortured me all day. Hours and hours, I begged like a whore for them to make me come, but they just drove me to the brink, then stopped. They injected me with more poison when they were done, worsening the torment tenfold. I humiliated myself just for a touch; not even a fuck, but a caress, a slap, a punch. Every part of me was electrified, my nerves raging beneath the flesh, my synapses overloaded with sensation. I wasn't Prestira anymore; I told them as much. "My name isn't Prestira, it's Fifty-One!" I cried when they asked who I was. I pissed all over myself just because they told me to. I enjoyed doing it. I enjoyed the humiliation because it meant they were paying attention to me, feeling me, penetrating me. They pet my head and told me I was a good girl. They promised to reward me. They said they'd let me come if I did something for them.
They took me up to the captain's cabin. They chained my wrist shackles to the floor and bolted my ankles shackles with them, forcing me into a squatted position. Master Timothy Two-Shot came over to me. I begged for his cock. He sneered, and like the wonderful master he was, he pulled out his stinking meat and smeared it across my face. I quivered with delight, aroused beyond description to be so degraded, to have his scent saturate my sinuses. When he finally pressed his tip to my lips, I nearly cried with relief. I took him with a desperation I'd never known, worshipping every inch of him with my lips, tongue and throat. I stayed pressed against his crotch, swallowing continuously, massaging him with the muscles of my neck as I slurped his base. He tasted like he hadn't washed in weeks. I'd never tasted anything so decadent in my life.
"Well, well, Fifty-One, you're feeling friendly, ain't 'cha?" He laughed, stroking my hair.
I nodded around my consumption, unwilling to relent even an inch of him.
I'm just your filthy cum-slave, Master. Please reward me for being such a good whore!
"I have a special task for you." Master Two-Shot said, "I need you to give a friend of mine some information. If you make her happy, she'll let you come. Does that sound fun?"
I nodded excitedly, keeping Master's meat in my mouth.
"That's a good girl, Fifty-One. Now, I'm going to pull out, because you'll need to answer some questions." He withdrew, and I cried out in dismay. "Don't worry girl," Master said, soothing me back to complacency with a stroking hand, "we'll fill up every one of your holes later."
Master moved out of the way, revealing the body-length iron-framed mirror behind him. There was a woman's face in the glass. She looked familiar, but I didn't know from where. She was a high-elf, her hair nearly white, her lips sheened red, her hooped earring dangling from her pointed ears. She wore an extravagant cream dress split with a neckline that extended to her pelvis, revealing the enticing expanse of her silken belly, and the inner portions of her ample breasts. She could be my mistress if she wanted.
"Prestira Rasloraca," the woman smiled kindly, "I've been waiting to meet you for some time."
"She goes by the name Fifty-One now." Master Two-Shot said to the woman.
"Oh," the woman raised her brows, "I must commend you on your results, Captain. I thought her will would be stronger than this."
"She was tough," Master chuckled, "but they all break in the end. Ask her anything." Master pulled out a chrome cone from beneath his desk. It had a dull point, and was about six-inches wide at its base, and nine inches long. He placed it underneath me, the cold metal point pressing against my hot anus. I shuddered. I wanted to sit on it, to have its full length inside of me, to feel it stretch me until I tore, but Master kept me in the squatted position, and I had to obey Master.
"Fifty-One," the woman asked me, "do you know who I am?"
"Master's friend." I responded.
"That's right," she smiled, "but I'm also a friend of someone you know. Do you know Yavara Tiadoa?"
"Yes." I said, barely containing my mounting arousal. Oh, the way the point felt against me, pressing into the delicate filthy flesh of my shithole, teasing the pain, the pleasure.
"Well I'm her sister, and I'd very much like to know what you know about her. Every time you tell me something I like, your master will let you sit a little deeper on that cone. Think of it as a game; do you like games?
"Yes!" I cried with need, my pussy dribbling nectar down my spread legs. I needed it!
"Good," Mistress Leveria smiled, "where is Zander Fredeon?"
"With the Terdini at the Gorge." I responded, looking up at Master hopefully. He pushed down on my shoulders, forcing the cold point hard into my center, opening me, entering me. I shuddered with delight, my rim stretching deliciously with the shaking depression of my squat. I could feel the strain now, the slow escalation of pain that made the pleasure so much greater. He kept pushing, and I kept moaning. Eventually I was screaming, opened beyond what I thought my limits were, but I'd been trained all day, and the poison that ran through my veins elasticized my vile exit. My head flung back, and I let out a euphoric squeal. Master stopped me half way down.
"Thank you Master!" I screamed.
I heard Mistress Leveria laughing. It was a sound that was simultaneously melodic and sardonic, like girl's titter void of all compassion. Such cruelty she was capable of; oh, how I wanted to be the subject that cruelty! Her mirth waned, her lovely features relaxing back into their amused set, her blue eye twinkling with pleasure. Her hand had snaked beneath the hem of her dress, and she touched herself as she watched me. "What is your relationship with Zander Fredeon?" Mistress Leveria asked.
"He was my husband!" I cried, my thighs grinding together with need, their inner portions saturated with my secretion.
"Oh?" Mistress Leveria seemed surprised, "Then you must know everything about him."
"Yes!" I cried, "I'll tell you whatever you want to know!"
"Why did he betray the Highlands?"
