The Chainer - Into the Fortress

Copyright 2024 by Otto26

With thanks to neuroparenthetical for his editing work and Elayne for her permission to rewrite our online roleplay as a story. This is the second chapter of The Chainer.

Knife kept the pace slow, which made it easy for her to keep up. She was far more worried about what else might happen if he were to speed up; the rope between her thighs was rubbing in very interesting ways, and she found herself becoming slick, which made the rubbing worse. Meanwhile, her horse kept pushing against her, asserting her superior place in the herd. Elise tried to push back a couple of times, putting her shoulder hard into the horse's flank, but the much bigger animal ignored her attempts. Elise had to give way, which pulled the rope tighter between her thighs.

I'm going to start wearing spurs after this,

Elise silently promised herself.

Despite the chill in the shade of the forest, she was openly sweating when Knife stopped and looked around very carefully.

"What-" she started, then gasped as he yanked the leash hard once.

"Shh."

He dismounted and carefully worked his way forward, moving with nearly glacial patience before retracing his steps and leading his horse off the trail they had been following. It was a good twenty minutes before he changed direction and then moved again. She could tell they were making a U, going around the point he'd investigated.

"A trap?" she whispered.

He nodded. "A good one. Not something they threw together. They retreated straight for it and probably armed it after they passed through. Didn't see anyone watching it, though."

"Then you're not as good as you think you are," a voice casually informed them.

"Wouldn't be the first time I was wrong," Knife replied, slowly lifting his hands away from his body. "I'm an emissary from King Ignace, sent to negotiate for the return of his daughter. I have a special gift for The Chainer."

Elise was able to locate the voice when it chuckled, but looked to her left, not her right.

If I were the ambusher, the first of my people to talk would be the distraction.

Two orcs moved out of the forest and advanced upon them, weapons ready, but not attacking. They were typical examples of the breed: dirty yellow skin, tall and heavily built, carrying crude weapons, and wearing makeshift armor assembled from various sources.

"We're going to have some fun with this cunt," one of them chortled in Orcish.

"Teach her some new skills," the other agreed in the same tongue.

Elise, wishing she could understand Orcish, watched as one of them drew close to her and reached out to roughly grasp a breast, giving it a heft and a squeeze. She bit off a yelp of pain, wishing she could understand what the brutes were saying.

"If you fuck up The Chainer's present you're going to end up hanging from the wall by your balls," Knife commented. His voice had gone flat and emotionless. Elise had heard him use that tone before killing people.

This orc just got put on a short list

, she realized.

"He's right," the voice agreed. A short human stepped out of the underbrush. "Knock it off!"

The orc released Elise's breast and took a step back. "Too bad, cunt," he said in the common tongue. "You like Shugguz' cock." His free hand pulled his loincloth aside and flipped his semi-erect member upward before replacing it.

"I'm a little curious about how you know about hanging by the balls," the human stated, carefully examining Knife.

The half-orc kept his hands raised and half-smiled. "King Ignace knows a lot about The Chainer and his fortress. He offered up that tidbit, then told me he'd do even worse if I didn't follow his orders exactly."

"Ignace? Good King Ignace?"

"Oh, yes," Knife assured him. "

Good

King Ignace."

"Him lying, Marcus," Shugguz asserted. "We kill him and rape this cunt before give to The Chainer. He make decision."

"That's a good idea," Marcus agreed.

Elise felt her stomach dropping.

"We'll let The Chainer make the decision, so we'll take the emissary and his gift to him -

undamaged.

The orcs snorted their displeasure, but set to work. Knife's hands were bound to the pommel of his horse and a blindfold was tied around his eyes. Elise struggled for a moment as a blindfold went over her eyes as well, and received a hard slap across her face for her token resistance. Rough hands grasped her hair and went between her legs. She gasped in pain as those two points were used to lift her into the air and toss her belly down across the saddle of her horse. Rope - rough rope - was used to secure her on the animal, and a hard slap on her ass served to confirm the bindings were secure.

"Gonna fuck you, cunt," a foul orcish voice breathed in her ear. "You gonna scream and cry."

***

Elise had thought she was prepared for the sight of The Chainer's fortress, but after the blindfold was removed and she'd blinkingly adjusted to the light, she found she'd been wrong. The ruins were something like a cathedral, if a cathedral had been built inside a ravine. The remains of pillars and arches reached up and over, and alcoves carved into the rock walls of the ravine were populated by groups of humanoids who were casually examining the new arrivals. Orcs, humans, dwarves, goblins, and others moved about their business in the light of the dawn.

The sound of rope being cut was the only warning she had before a rough hand on her ass pushed her off her horse and headfirst to the ground. Before she could recover from that, a booted foot kicked her in the ribs.

"Up, cunt!" an orc ordered.

"Back off, short dick," Knife growled. "If you damaged her at all, you won't have balls left for The Chainer to hang you by. " She felt his hands on her, helping her straighten out and stand on shaky legs.

"Okay?" he asked.

She nearly nodded, but remembered the story. "What do you care?"

"You're okay," he pronounced. He took up her leash along with the reins of their horses and led them deeper into the fortress.

The structure's ruined grandeur was a rather perfect reflection of its new - or, at least, most recent - inhabitants. Smoke from a dozen small fires seemed to be trapped by some trick of the terrain. It lingered within, restricting vision. While there were no visible piles of shit, the place still reeked of it, plus smoke, body odor, and fear. She distinctly recognized that last scent, and realized that it must come from the slaves. Naked wretches in iron collars scurried about the place or shrieked in pain. It took her a moment to register that the slave bent over a table and being fucked from both ends was a slight male. The corpulent female next to him on her back was being similarly abused, with the added torment of a lash being brought down hard across her belly and breasts. Her body leapt with each stroke, and the onlookers laughed uproariously.

Another woman was hanging by her wrists and begging for mercy while an orc casually beat her, meaty fists pounding against her like a punching bag. A second orc sat watching the beating, offering observations and suggestions to the first, as a slave knelt between his legs, her head moving up and down at a furious pace, her bleeding back telling the story of what drove her 'enthusiasm.'

Elise saw entire groups of bandits domiciled in giant alcoves, half-naked, half-sober, and idly curious about the new slave coming in. Bodily fluids and the occasional piece of trash arced down towards her, and she had to remain aware to avoid being struck. She caught sight of tunnels leading to stables and kitchens. A glimpse through an opening in the side of the ravine revealed a fountain.

The ravine opened up, widening before terminating in a stone facade carved from nature itself. Windows opened up from within it, and she realized it must be the fortress proper. There was an unconscious man hanging upside down by his balls. A wire led from his genitals to an upper story window. Blood oozed in slow rivulets down his torso and dripped out of his hair to pool on the ground. The bandits gathered below, she realized, were making wagers.

Steps led up to a massive wooden door that had once been ornate, but was a monument only to vandalism. The human paused there, stopping their procession, and nodded off to one side. An orc lumbered over to an entrance - a stable - and a human slave came falling out of it, sprawling on the ground and scrambling towards them on all fours before finding his feet.

"Stable the emissary's horses," the bandit ordered.

The slave shambled forward, trying to stay small, to cower in front of Knife. "With your permission, master?"

Knife handed him the reins to the horses and removed the saddle bags from his animal before nodding at the man. The slave tugged at the reins, and the horses followed him across the courtyard and into the tunnel.

There was a sound like a heavy wet bag hitting the ground and a chorus of cheers and catcalls. Elise looked to the sound and saw the hanging man had fallen, his skin cracking open in multiple places to create an even bigger and more fetid mess. Money was changing hands, and one loser lofted a gobbet of spit at the corpse.

Then Knife was tugging on the leash. She refocused as they were led through the doorway and into the space beyond. It had the feel of the atrium of a great house. Doorways led off in three directions, and a pair of staircases led up to a balcony hallway above. There were guards to prevent people using those exits without permission and, in the balcony, a cluster of people.

"Hogan!" the human shouted. "Got something special for you: an emissary from King Ignace, with a gift."

The cluster of people in the balcony above parted and a short, fat figure emerged. It was the fattest goblin Elise had ever seen. He waddled rather than walked, and she was halfway surprised that his silks and jewels weren't choking or crushing him to death. He was a grim parody of noble or royal ostentation.

"What's that, Uriel?" the goblin burbled. "An emissary? So soon? The Chainer has barely had any time to play with the bitch. No, no. Send him away. Tell him to come back in a week."

"I have three days to deliver your response to King Ignace," Knife called out. "If I don't report back, bad things happen."

"Your problem, emissary," the goblin insisted. "Your problem - not mine."

"Bad things will happen to you, Hogan," Knife clarified, "and to everyone here, including me. But if you want me to take the gift away..."

"The gift? The gift?" His eyes darted over to Elise. "A pretty bitch, yes. Certainly. But hardly worth The Chainer's time."

"King Ignace sends the Lady Elise Dieubenit," Knife announced, "Knight of the Golden Order, Daughter of the Count of Montfort, leader of the guards that failed to protect the Princess."

Elise was taken aback by an acute sense of vulnerability. Knife's announcement of her identity had stripped her more bare than he had when he'd removed her clothing.

"Lady?" the goblin repeated and lifted a pair of spectacles to his eyes. "A lady. Hmm. Perhaps. Maybe. Very well. The Chainer will accept your gift, emissary, and receive you at his pleasure."

"I am to deliver the gift to The Chainer personally," Knife insisted.

"Personally? Who does this King think he is? Does he rule here? He does not! The Chainer rules here. If your King wishes to rule here, then let him come. The bitch will be cleaned and examined and made ready for The Chainer, and you may be present when she is thrown to his mercies." The audience chuckled collectively, amused by the goblin's officious decree.

A couple of guards moved forward, and Knife was faced with the choice of handing over the leash or resorting to violence. He chose the former, dropping the gathered end of the rope into one guard's extended hand.

"Sorry, Elise," he said. "Not how I wanted things to go."

She spat in his face and then charged at him. The knee she'd aimed at his groin impacted his thigh as he turned to protect himself. The guard had yanked hard at the leash, pulling her back and throwing the attack off aim. Laughter filled the hall as Knife wiped his face, and Elise was dragged deeper into the fortress.

"Fuck you, Knife! When I get out of here I'm going to feed you your balls! Your balls, you fucking coward!"

"Shut up, cunt," a guard growled and punched her in the kidney.

She grunted in pain and struggled to keep her feet, stumbling as the other guard kept up a relentless pressure on her lead that threatened to send her tumbling to the ground. They led her through several passages to an open doorway, elegantly decorated in carved vines. The space they emerged into had the look and feel of a temple, though Elise's perspective quickly shifted when she noticed the naked women assembled around it in various stages of bathing. Some moved slowly between various positions that displayed their bodies whilst others moved more quickly in dances that did the same. A woman cried out in pain as she was struck by a leather lash, and burst into tears.

The carvings on the walls were not the sort to be found in any temple Elise had ever frequented. Indeed, they were of a piece with the activities that had just disabused her of the notion that she was in a temple - and even more extreme, at that.

"Yes, masters?" a voice purred.

Elise dragged her attention back to her immediate environs and saw a vision. The woman was clearly a drow, and equally clearly a woman. Long, white hair with the texture of silk was braided behind her, the tip resting just above the cleft of her ass. Her feet were immaculate, decorated with intricate white designs, and set in a dancer's pose. Her legs were long and led to hips that were broad, feminine, and earthier than those of any Elf that Elise had ever seen. A white silk loincloth dangled between her legs, reaching down to her calves front and back; it was blindingly bright against her midnight-black skin. The loincloth had been tied to form an elegant belt that sat low on those hips. Her belly was impossibly flat, and her belly button was pierced by a piece of jewelry that held a bright ruby. Her breasts were, like her hips, too full for an Elf, and too perky and well-shaped for any mortal. More white designs were traced on her hands and wrists, and about her neck. Like the ones on her feet, the patterns were elegant and floral, with thorns drawn in among the leaves and flowers. The drow's face was like something an artist would draw and know that he'd never again achieve that level of perfection. The smile was genuine, the lips parted just enough to invite the observer to consider that they might penetrate them.

And then the eyes spoiled the entire effect. They were bright, and blue, and sparkled, but Elise immediately saw malignant death in them. She knew she was looking at Lysetta. Knife had failed to do her justice - both her seductive peaks and valleys, and her wicked depths.

"A present for The Chainer," the guard said, handing over Elise's leash.

"Thank you, master," the drow breathed, her tone making it clear that she wished she could thank him by fulfilling his every desire, and especially his most depraved ones.

The guard hesitated before turning away. His hand reached up to Elise's chin and his thumb rubbed across her lips. She opened her mouth and tried to bite it, but pain lanced along the end of the rope, into her throat and sex, before grounding in her feet against the floor.

She gasped and fell to her knees, her head swimming as she struggled to stay conscious while the laughter of the guards trailed slowly away.

"Foolish and easy to manipulate," the drow pronounced in tones that still implied she would soothe all of Elise's desires.

Elise wanted to snap back in defiance, but her skin was still trembling from the pain, and she felt sick.

"Chugka," the drow called. The voice, again, was melodic, soothing, enticing, and full of promise, but the word was a command - a name, too, as a half-orc came into view. If the drow was polished perfection, the half-orc was untamed desire. Her legs were long and well-shaped, but clearly powerful. Her hips were wide and her mons was bare. Her breasts were large, tipped by large, dark areolas. Her freckled face lacked the porcelain perfection of the drow's, but offered up as a substitute a sly, naughty cast that suggested barely restrained lust. Her hair was raven and unrestrained and curled mostly down her back. A gold collar rested about her neck.

"Mistress?" the half-orc asked.

"A gift for our master," the drow said. "I expect he will wish her to be presented at tonight's court. Have her collared, work her hard, let her rest a bit, clean her up, and have her ready for court."

"Yes, mistress," the half-orc replied. She took the proffered leash in her hand and waited until the drow had glided away before giving it a tug. "Get up, new cunt, or it will go badly for you."

Elise rose to one knee, steadied herself, and then stood fully upright.

"I'd say the first time is the worst," her captor said, "but I'd be lying. It gets worse every time. It's as though Mistress Lysetta can find new places to hurt. You're all prepared for the pain to be like the last time, but it comes from a different direction and you're down on the floor, puking."

Elise made no reply.

"I wish I could do that," the slave said with rampant sincerity, "but I can't, so I'll just have to use a lash." She tugged on the lead, pulling Elise towards the area where other women were moving about. A few got out of their way as they approached.

"Silk rope," the half-orc observed. "Someone was being nice to you. A lover?"

Elise choked on a harsh laugh. "A lover? No, a...former friend. Said he didn't want to damage me before I was 'gifted.'"

"Lucky you," Chugka said. She turned and took hold of the rope just above where it disappeared between the lips of Elise's sex and began to manipulate it, tugging it, moving it from side to side. "Can you imagine what this would have felt like with a regular rope?"

Elise squirmed slightly and tried to keep her eyes fixed on the half-orc's green eyes, but she was very sensitive from the walk and the ride, and the girl knew how to move the rope against her - how to press a finger down the length of the rope and between her wet lips. Elise's legs moved wider to regain her balance, and the pressure of the rope and Chugka's finger posed an imminent danger of something far more terrifying to Elise in that moment than pain. Her eyes darted to the side and she tried to control her breathing.

Chugka laughed - a coarse, bawdy chuckle - and licked the tip of her finger clean before selecting a leather lash from the wall. She gave it a twirl and made the many flat, leather strands whistle faintly.

"Sometimes," she said, "fear of the unknown is stronger than fear of the known." Her arm blurred, and the lash swung low, passing between Elise's thighs. The ends reached up to curl around the cheeks of her ass like the hand of an angry giant, and the tips snapped at both the top of her ass and her hands, which were bound at the bottom of her back. She jumped and grunted in pain.

"I'm Chugka," the half-orc said, "and you're nobody. If I beat you to death and tell them you were rebellious, they'll thank me for it and probably give me a little reward, so if you think you're going to fight this process and that the pain has to stop somewhere short of death, you're wrong. Kneel."

It took Elise a moment to shift gears, and then she slowly started to comply. The lash dragged across her belly and snapped against her flank. She grunted again.

"Too slow," the half-orc said cheerfully. "Try again. Kneel."

Elise dropped to her knees as fast as she could without hurting herself. The lash slapped against her breasts, and she whimpered audibly.