The Priestess' Ordeal - Ch. 02

WARNING: The following story contains graphic descriptions of reluctant impact play, verbal degradation, and rough public sex in a high-fantasy setting. It picks up immediately after chapter 1 of this series.

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Diarma braced herself for the wave of humiliation to break over her naked body. The Drow priestess drew in a shuddering breath and stood as tall and straight as she could manage, delicate jaw set, bare breasts outthrust, and her best attempt at a disinterested boredom on her fine, angular features. A score of grumbling grey dwarves ambled into the large octagonal chamber, evidently a common area from their individual bunk rooms in the halls that radiated from this central hub.

The mob of Duergar spread out to the long tables in the room, all of them at least looking at the hairless Drow shackled naked to the floor-to-ceiling column in the center of the chamber. Diarma was somewhat surprised that only about half of them were truly staring, the rest just glancing at her and going about their business. A trio of the grey-skinned dwarves made their way to the captive and studied the raised silver scars that had been painfully etched on the priestess' flat belly between her ribs and navel a few hours before. One of the three, a female judging by her lack of beard, marginally narrower shoulders and barely discernable breasts, read aloud in undercommon the silver letters marring the Drow's otherwise flawless midnight purple skin.

"Slave of clan Grimhammer. On pain of death, do not slay, maim, or cut hair," she said loud enough for most in the room to hear her before straightening up and looking Diarma in the eye quizzically. This female was as bald as Diarma, though she retained her light grey eyebrows where every hair on the Drow had been burned away with demonic fire when the demon she summoned in an attempt to escape turned on her and handed her over as a slave to these grubby grey dwarves. The priestess looked down to meet the female Duergar's gaze with an expression of disdain. They were universally repugnant to her, broad, square faced, most of them bald, including more than half the females, and grotesquelly muscled and stocky. She stood at least a head taller than all of them. This one was only eye level with Diarma's erect and aching lavender nipples.

The Drow's upper lip curled into a sneer of revulsion as she felt some of the now-denatured semen that the court scribe, Grimald, had ejaculated into her ass twenty minutes earlier leaked from her clenched anus and dribbled down her inner thigh. It was a humiliating reminder of the reality of her helplessness, but all the Duergar saw was the sneer.

"This haughty cunt is going to need some attitude adjustment," said another of the trio, a taller, broad male with a curly bush of white beard. He curled his stubby, black-nailed fingers into a fist the size of the Drow's head and drew his arm back to strike. Diarma braced herself, but a scraping of benches and a cry of "Hail!" rebounding from the stone walls stayed his hand. Instead, he wheeled and stood to attention with the rest of the Duergar in the room, which had swelled to over a hundred.

Diarma recognized the same crowned Duergar she had met upon her capture, the clan's leader, King Gorran Grimhammer. He strode across the hewn stone floor toward the central column flanked by an entourage of guards and court staff, coming to a halt just out of kicking distance from the disgraced priestess. He held her gaze with more boredom than hate before turning to address his clan.

"This Drow was a priestess of Lolth, and led a war band to take these mines from us," he said, his voice filling the room.

"By the time she reached our door, she was the sole survivor, and strutted all but naked into our home to demand our surrender. So SHAMEFUL was her showing that the Spider Queen herself sent a demon to disown this arrogant slut, and deliver her unto us as recompense for the Drow's insult!" he declared, his voice rising to a crescendo.

"And so I bid you as Lolth has said unto me: PUNISH this fallen servant of the Spider Queen. Humble this haughty, high-born harlot, and let humiliation and objectification be her teacher. This priestess is the lowest of our slaves from this day until the day her locks once again reach her navel. Until then, none may do anything to shorten her hair, none may slay her, and none may maim her. I challenge you, Clan Grimhammer, to break this priestess of Lolth in mind and soul without breaking her body!"

At this the gathered grey dwarves roared their acceptance of the challenge, and Diarma's racing heart felt like it had fallen into her stomach.

"She shall be made available for your use for three hours at the start of each shift and three hours at each shift's end. If she uses magic, I am to hear of it, that punishment may be exacted. Now, to your labors!" boomed the king, and swept out of the room.

The three Duergar who had approached her watched their king leave before turning with wicked grins back to Diarma.

"Sounds like this cunt is going to be with us for quite a while then," growled the one that nearly struck her.

"Spread yer legs," he ordered, looking Diarma in the eye.

She glared down at him, hate flaring in her scarlet eyes as she thought about what Grimald had said to her about her station within this society and the necessity of obedience. She began to shuffle her feet when a huge fist cannoned into her belly, forcing the air from her lungs in a grunted puff.

"I said spread yer damned legs ye worthless whore!" he bellowed as laughter rolled around the room.

Diarma hadn't seen the strike coming in time to flex her abs defensively, and was now trying and failing to suck in air with the wind knocked out of her. She hung suspended from her wrists for a moment, her bare legs drawn up to her chest in a fetal position. She swallowed the panic and waited for her lungs to work again while a pair of grey dwarves took firm hold of her legs and pulled them wide apart. Diarma felt her labia part as her legs were spread to their farthest reach and the cool air kissed the tight ring of muscle still wet from the scribe's attentions. They held her spread eagle but did nothing to support her, instead letting her weight hang from her manacled wrists.

The dwarf between her legs dropped to a crouch and looked at her fully exposed pussy appraisingly.

"I knew Drow were fragile, but THIS -" he said, punctuating his proclamation with a slap to her bare vulva that echoed around the room, " - delicate little cunt is pathetic."

A growled groan escaped through the priestess' nose as she clenched her jaw and pursed her lavender lips in pain.

"Well if yer not gonna fuck it, stand aside," grumbled another of the gather group of Duergar, "I got work to do and want to have a go at breaking this spider worshipping whore afore the shift starts."

The duergar crouched in her crotch sprang to his feet and rounded in the other.

"Ye'll wait yer damned turn!" he roared before turning back to the Drow and fishing his cock from his trousers.

Diarma couldn't conceal the disgust in her expression when the smell of the unwashed cock reached her nostrils. Her nose wrinkled and she sneered as she let a scoff escape her lips. The duergar noticed and grinned maliciously.

"Oh, I BEG yer pardon, priestess," he said with exaggerated sarcasm, "is the hygiene of me cock not up to yer standards? Take her down," he said, and two others quickly unshackled her aching wrists. They dropped her to her ass on the cold floor and the surly dwarf who had been leading her tormentors thus far took her bald head firmly in his hands.

"Open yer mouth, whore," he commanded. Diarma saw that he was now fully erect, a little more than six inches of granite grey cock throbbing an inch in front of her face. It stank of sweat and an earthy funk she could not quite place, but her mind categorically and adamantly identified on an unconscious level as something that had no business being anywhere inside her body. The priestess recoiled in revulsion but her captor's hands held her head in place like a vice. She knew her situation was hopeless but before she could reconsider, she reflexively spat out an objection.

"Drow women do NOT suck cocks!"

Diarma recognized her mistake before the echo if her defiant shout died away in the room. The gravity of that mistake was emphasized by the crushing pressure the duergar immediately began applying to the sides of her skull. She struggled to rise to her feet, to pull his hands off her head, but it was as though her head was fixed in space like an immovable rod. Her ears began to ring and her vision darkened at the edges. She screwed her eyes shut and sucked in air through her teeth, willing her head not to explode. Unable to contain it any longer, Diarma began to scream, more in fury than fear.

Immediately her mouth was filled with duergar cock, the thick organ ramming the back of her throat and strangling her scream. The pressure released immediately from her skull and she heard the cruel laughter of the small crowd gathered around. Her eyes shot wide open and all she saw was the pale grey bush of coarse, curly hair at the duergar's lap as he pulled her face forward, sliding his cock down her protesting throat.

In over a century of life, Diarma had performed oral sex only a dozen times, and always on senior priestesses while she was an acolyte undergoing her clerical training. Those had been loveless acts of submission, hazing rituals which she would never admit even to herself she had truly enjoyed as she sought each time to bring her mistress to orgasm faster than the last. Never had she even considered performing oral sex on a male. For a female to degrade herself by performing so submissive a task that exclusively pleasured a MALE partner was strictly taboo in Drow society. Panic and shame raced through her like poison in her blood as the duergar pistoned her head back and forth on his disgusting appendage.

The motion dredged a memory from deep in her mind of a time when she had seen one of her household's orc slaves doing the same to one of their goblins. She had been walking the palisades of their compound late one evening and heard a rapid, wet gagging from the slave pens and let her curiosity get the better of propriety. Calling upon the innate magic of her bloodline, she had levitated silently from the wall and floated above the slave pens, searching for the source of the lewd commotion.

After a moment she found them, the two silhouettes mismatched in size, glowing to her infravision with the body heat of exertion. She could see that the orc was standing over a goblin laying on its back on a crude table with its ugly head hung off the edge. The orc was viciously pistoning its enormous cock into the goblin's mouth, bulging the diminutive creature's throat with each thrust. She could see the heat of thin trails of drool dripping from the goblin's face to the floor of the cavern, and the heat radiating from the little wretch's exposed vulva.

Diarma watched for several seconds, welling with a mixture of fascination, curiosity, disgust, and shock. The little goblin spread its legs and reached between them to rapidly rub itself, and Diarma watched the heat build between its legs while the orc finished, throwing its head back and grunting in pleasure as it pumped foulness into the smaller slave's throat. It saw Diarma floating there and froze mid-thrust. It took her an instant to gain her composure and lay into the slaves for their gross breach of propriety. She had the orc flogged and the goblin beheaded for the crime of performing oral on a male, species be damned.

Diarma gagged, partly from the smell and taste of the cock and partly from the sensation of being so brutally face-fucked. There was nothing for her empty stomach to purge as she gagged and wretched on the assaulting duergar. Feeling her gagging on his cock, the duergar unsheathed it from her throat and slapped it across her face as she coughed and gasped in ragged, shaky breaths.

He didn't give her time to catch her breath before taking her by the throat, both stout hands clamped around her neck. He dragged the priestess a few paces, kicking and grasping at his wrists, to a nearby bench beside an empty table and slammed her unceremoniously onto her back with her bald head hanging off one end. Taking the que, the two other duergar with him stood to either side of Diarma and took similarly vice-like grips on her wrists and ankles and pulled them out to either side.

"Open yer mouth," snarled the duergar choking her. Diarma stared at the drool-slicked cock pressing against her lips, then gasped for air as he tightened his grip. The duergar dick plunged into her throat immediately. The duergar held her throat in both hands and hilted himself in her mouth, sweaty balls coming to rest against the drow's nose. The battering of her gullet almost overwhelmed the sensation of coarse rope being wrapped around Diarma's arms, elbows, wrists, thighs, knees, and ankles. She was dimly aware between suffocating thrusts that her arms were being bound to the legs of the bench on which she lay. Her legs were folded at the knee and pulled wide apart.

The priestess' vision was filled by her tormentor's grey balls slapping her face and pulling away, dragging thin strands of thick drool between her face as he forcefully hilted his entire length in her throat again and again, filling the hall with wet choking and gagging sounds. Diarma felt herself slipping towards unconsciousness when the duergar stopped, throbbing and grunting as he came in her throat.

"There. I can guarantee that is the most productive thing ye've ever done with that lyin' drow mouth o' yers," he said as he withdrew his glistening girth from her abused mouth.

Diarma tried to roll to the floor but only realized she had been tied to the bench when she failed to move. A calloused grey hand wiped the viscous drool from her flushed face and rubbed it on a fresh, erect duergar cock. She watched the duergar stroking himself as he strode down the bench out of her field of vision with her head hanging off the end of the bench. She grimaced when she felt two thick fingers spread her labia and the drool slicked head press against the moist ring of her defenseless vagina.

With nothing more than a grunt, the duergar pushed his cock into her opening, relying on the whipped saliva the first duergar had fucked from her throat to lubricate himself enough to force entry. The priestess gave a hoarse groan of disgust and discomfort as another six inches of dwarf dick was jammed into her and immediately began thrusting. His balls slapped her spread ass with each thrust, the tip just barely touching her cervix at the bottom of each pitiless stab.

He lasted only a couple of minutes, just long enough for Diarma's body to begin to react to the stimulation by moistening itself, before he grunted and spasmed inside her. She felt him spurting inside her before quickly withdrawing and wiping his softening length on her pubic mound and stepping away. Another duergar immediately took his place. Diarma had just enough time to lift her head and open her mouth to protest when he jammed his erection inside her.

He was several seconds into his rythm of uncomfortably fast fucking when a female approached the priestess from the end of the bench. She was kicking out of her trousers when Diarma noticed her, and the duergar grinned maliciously at the drow as she approached. The mass of curly hair that covered her vulva was the same pale grey as the tightly wound bun of hair atop her head. She straddled the bound drow and stood there with her legs wide apart. The scent of unwashed pussy slapped Diarma in the face as it sank down towards her.

"I know this ain't the first cunt ye've tongued, Drow. Yer renowned deviants, the lot of ye. Now get to work," she said, squatting to mash the sweaty, musky mass of hair and flesh into the priestess' mouth and chin.

"If I don't cum ye'll be hanging from the candelabra from yer pretty purple tits."

Diarma's breasts were bouncing with the hammerblows from the hips of the male pummeling her pussy, and she had to lift her head somewhat to reach the duergar's repugnant vulva with her mouth. Clearly these filthy creatures thought little of personal hygiene, but she was grateful at least that it wasn't a cock in her throat. The duergar's labia were thick and heavy, and salted with the tang of sweat. Diarma found the clitoris immediately and nearly mistook the engorged bud for a tiny cock given its shockingly large size. She tried to get suction on it to bring this latest indignity to a swift end, but between the pounding against her own pussy and the duergar woman's grinding hips and coarse hair, she could do little to affect an orgasm, and the drow's nose kept slipping into the crack of the duergar's ass.

It was only when the male finished inside her and got up to leave that Diarma managed to suck the female's clitoris into her mouth through the pale thicket of pubic hair. She sucked hard and flicked her tongue across the tip, a technique she favored receiving herself, and tried not to suffocate in the swamp of the duergar's pubic hair. The drow felt an unexpected pang of satisfaction at the tremor she felt shudder through the duergar's thighs as they squeezed them to either side of the priestess' head. Encouraged, she focused her attention on sucking and flicking. The duergar clit was so large it was relatively easy.

Diarma faltered slightly as another cock slipped into the now fully relaxed and thoroughly cum-slicked cunt. She could not help but scream however when someone pinched pulled hard on her aching nipples. The unseen assailant twisted as they pulled, drawing a second scream from the writhing priestess. The female straddling her face pressed hard into her mouth, and Diarma latched onto the engorged clit again and sucked as though her life depended on it. The duergar clamped her muscular thighs hard on the drow's head and began to shake in the throes of an unmistakable orgasm.

The spurt of semen inside her battered pussy only barely registered with Diarma as the duergar woman staggered back off her face. "Guh-good enough," she panted, leaning against a table nearby.

Diarma couldn't help but smirk at having risen to the duergar's challenge. The smirk became a look of panic as a cock was crammed into her ass without warning, apparently relying from the torrent of duergar cum flowing freely from her now gaping cunt for lubrication. The invading cock immediately began a brutal pace of thrusts, and the drow looked down between her bouncing breasts to see another dusky dwarf scowling down at his work.

"Yer cunt is gettin' loose and is near to full of cum. Thought I'd try this'n," he growled, thrusting hard for emphasis.

"Tight enough at the opening," he said as he continued hammering away, "but even looser inside than yer delicate cunt!"

He withdrew from her ass and lined himself up with her pussy.

"Wait, wait WAIT WAI-!" she began before the hilting thrust cut her off and another grey cock was shoved into her throat.

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Six hours passed with uncounted dozens of duergar taking turns fucking their drow priestess until every member of the work shift had their fill. She was unsure if some of her captors went more than once with her, but she lost track of the number of cocks thrust into her mouth, pussy, and ass. Halfway through, the shift change occurred and a fresh wave of surly, sweaty dwarves were introduced to the disgraced cleric's dilemma and made savage use of her holes. When they had finished, they dragged her through the dark and dumped her in a pen.

Diarma was unable to walk when they dropped her in a cum-plastered heap on the roughly hewn stone floor of a slave pen. She could smell the familiar stink of humanoid waste nearby, and what she guessed was the scent of goblin slaves nearby. A trickle of cold water ran through her enclosure, and she managed to use it to rinse the worst of the filth from her plum-colored skin. She winced with revulsion as she splashed the cold water onto her aching vulva, using two fingers to try and wash the duergar cum from her vaginal canal. She was shocked at how loose she felt and how effortlessly she swallowed both fingers to the knuckles. The shock was worse when she did the same to her anus. Her once inviolate asshole had become a plaything for a whole clan of these dimwitted, slab-brained oafs. She splashed handfulls of cold water onto the aching orifice and easily reached two fingers inside that hole as well.

"Still achin' for more, are ye?" asked a duergar in a gravely voice behind her. Diarma started so hard she fell to the floor from her low crouch. She jerked her hand from between her legs where she had been trying to rinse the remaining cum out of her guts.

"Of course not," she scoffed as she sat upright with as much dignity as she could muster. "I am merely inspecting myself for injury in the wake of your... vulgar display of what I can only conclude must pass for diplomacy amongst your crude caricature of a culture."

"Marvel ye've room for such pretty words in ye after all that cum ye had pumped into ye," chuckled the duergar, as he dropped a bowl of something to the floor.

"Best eat up and keep yer strength. Yer next shift starts in five hours, drow."

Diarma grimaced and struggled to keep down the thin soup that hadn't splashed from the bowl, listening to the heavy bootfalls receding down the hallway. When she had all she could stomach, she curled up in a ball on the floor. She ran a hand over the bare skin of her scalp, smiling in spite of herself at the friction of the barest inkling of stubble beginning to form on her skin. Eventually these brutes would grow bored of fucking her. She wondered whether it would change for the worse or the better. Her arms wrapped tight around her and she felt the script scarred into her flesh. Another decade or so, and Lolth would reward her for her service. The priestess shivered herself into a fitful sleep and dreamt of revenge.