Danica Pt. 01

{*****~~o~~0~~o~~*****}

Zoraster smiled as the door opened, and Alyssa stepped out. The woman was smiling widely as well, making no effort to close her light, silken robe, which would have done nothing to hide her body, had it been closed. Her small nipples were obviously hard, and trails of wetness ran down her thighs. When she reached Zoraster, she shivered slightly, and her eyes rolled up in her head in ecstatic pleasure.

Zoraster asked, "It is done?"

"Mmm, yes. I have never experienced such intense pleasure from the rite, but it has never been performed with one who is not of our order before. I am pleased to have been chosen by my mistress to perform it, and pleased that you requested it." The woman moved in closer to Zoraster, arousal and need shining brightly in her eyes.

Zoraster reached out and touched the woman's pale breasts, holding her back, though the touch brought a smile to her lips. "Not today, Alyssa. I have pressing matters," Zoraster informed her.

The woman pouted -- a look she had obviously perfected. She then pointed at a guard nearby and asked, "Can I borrow that one then?"

Zoraster laughed, "Very well." He turned to the guard and said, "You are relieved of duty for the remainder of this day, and the next. I fear you will be of little use tomorrow, after a day with Alyssa. You might wish to contact your next of kin -- considering the state she is in at the moment."

"Least I'd die happy, Sir," the guard said with a smile.

"Indeed," Zoraster chuckled in response.

The pale-skinned woman walked over and pulled on the front of the guard's trousers, with absolutely no hesitation. "Oh yes, you will do," she said with a smile, and then used the easy handle she had acquired to lead the guard off, down the hall.

Zoraster looked back at the door from which Alyssa had emerged. "This should prove most intriguing."

{*****~~o~~0~~o~~*****}

For two days, no one came. Not Zoraster, not the old woman -- no one... Only servants would bring her food, drink, and fresh clothing. All the clothing was made of silk, and all very revealing.

No matter how hard she tried to resist it, Danica masturbated often. It seemed her body starved for satisfaction, and if she didn't get it, it nearly drove her mad.

On this second day, she could not have been awake more than six hours, yet she had stroked her sex until she had reached a dozen climaxes. She lay on the bed now, about half an hour after the last time she had made herself come, and cursed Zoraster's magic for doing this to her. She felt wetness gathering between her legs, and the ache for relief building within her again.

Danica hadn't even realized she'd touched herself, when the door opened. She started, and snatched her hand away from her throbbing clit.

A large man carrying a leather bag entered. He said not a word, but simply shut the door, crossing the room with long strides, and sat the bag down.

Danica didn't even have time to offer even the slightest query, before the man grasped her by the hair, and pulled her upright with one hand. Tears came to her eyes, and a scream passed her lips, as the man roughly jerked her upright.

Danica's arms were pulled around behind her, where they were quickly and efficiently manacled. She was then spun around and slammed down, face first on the bed. She attempted to wriggle and get up, screaming at the silent man, "No! What do you want?!"

The only response she received was to feel her legs pulled roughly together, and rope slipping around her ankles. She struggled harder, but ceased quickly, as she was once again jerked up by her hair off the bed. A rope went around her neck, and pulled uncomfortably tight.

Danica struggled again, and her eyes went wide, as she felt the rope around her neck tighten. If she moved her legs more than a fraction of an inch from where they were, the rope began to cut off her breath. She scrunched up until she could breathe freely again, leaving her lying face down on the bed, her ass high in the air. Danica turned her head to the side, so she was not face down in the coverings, and saw the man digging in the bag. She screamed, "What are you doing?"

"I have been instructed to teach you your place, and remind you of your folly." The man smiled and reached into his bag. He pulled forth a leather strap, and left the range of her vision.

There wasn't even time for Danica to offer another word of protest, before the strap came down. With a loud crack, it connected with the soft, tender flesh of Danica's bottom. She let out a yelp born of surprise and pain -- and then another as the strap hit again, on her other cheek.

Again and again, the strap fell. Danica's ass burned and throbbed from the abuse, feeling as if it was on fire, every stroke of the leather feeling like a knife cutting into her flesh. She heard the man emitting satisfied grunts each time the lash fell on her.

Even as her ass burned, so did her desire, she could feel the silken panties beginning to cling to her, as her pussy lubricated. In the split second between two strikes, she flared again with anger at Zoraster's hated magic.

She couldn't have counted the number of times the lash fell on her stinging ass. She didn't even notice when it ceased to fall for few moments. When she realized it, she opened her tear-filled eyes and saw her torturer rummaging through his bag again, the leather strap lying on the bedside table.

A knife came out, and Danica gasped. With a swift and efficient movement, the man slit the rope connecting her neck and ankles. The noose around her neck loosened, and slid down to rest on the bed below her.

He then cut the ropes from her ankles, and tossed them aside. Danica tried to move, but a stab of pain from her ass caused her to scream, and bury her face in the covers.

Danica felt hands grip her arm tightly, and then she was flipped over onto her back. Her eyes widened as she spun over, and caught a glimpse of her ass in a mirror across the room. Her bottom was as bright red as an apple, and criss-crossed with welts from the lash. Tears came to her eyes as her abused rear slammed down onto the bed.

The man leaned over her, the gleaming knife in hand. A single pull of the knife slit the silken shift she was wearing, from hem to neck. A quick brush of his hands caused it to fall off to either side, revealing her breasts. Another absent pull of the blade slit her panties, and a brush of his strong hands cast these aside too.

Danica tried to lurch away, as the man grabbed a length of rope from the bag. He then grabbed one of her knees, and pulled it out wide toward the edge of the bed. His hand shot out and backhanded her hard across the face, snapping her head to the side.

"Do not try that again, or I shall cause you much pain," the man said in a low, deep, ominous voice.

Cause me pain! Danica thought, What does he think he's doing now? What worse could he do? That thought sent a wave of fear through her, as she considered what worse pain this horrible man might have waiting for her in his twisted mind.

Danica quivered as one, and then the other knee was pulled wide, and bound with rope to something at the base of the bed. There wasn't the slightest slack in the ropes, and the muscles of her thighs burned from being stretched so taut.

Her tormentor reached over and took up the leather strap again. His crotch was level with Danica's eyes, and she could see a substantial bulge in his trousers.

There was a look of rapture on his face as the lash came down. It connected with a crack on Danica's left breast, right on top of her erect nipple. She yelped in pain, and the man grunted in pleasure, as he raised the lash again.

The strap fell on her right breast, in the same spot. Then it went back to the left again. The lash rose and fell in a measured pattern, drawing the gasps, yelps, and screams the man obviously desired -- for he shuddered each time one escaped her.

Danica stared with morbid curiosity -- through tear-filled eyes -- at her breasts. They were as red as her ass now, and crossed with welts as well. Her nipples still stood tall and erect, seemingly begging for more, and her loins ached with desire. She could feel the first few drops of wetness running down her ass, physical manifestation of how aroused she was.

A few more strokes fell -- left, right, left, right -- and then, without warning, the next stroke changed angles. It came down with a loud smack, directly on her nether lips.

The loudest scream yet escaped Danica, as her labia and clitoris throbbed from the pain. It was echoed equally loud, when the strap fell on her yet again. Each stroke perfectly aligned with her, catching every single inch of her sex with the wide leather strap.

Now, the measured strokes alternated between her pussy and breasts. Danica could barely scream from gasping for breath, partially from pain, and partially from desire burning in her, from Zoraster's damnable magic.

The strokes stopped falling.

Danica's tormenter pulled her head up, and a glass of water was pressed against her lips. Apparently, her screams were growing too hoarse for the twisted man. Despite the desire to defy him, she drank down every drop of the water greedily. The man put the glass back on the table, and again reached into the bag.

She saw the lash lying on the bedside table. It was glistening on its looped end with her wetness, from when it had struck her soaked sex. The man pulled a large candle from the bag, and lit it.

He watched it burn for a few moments with a wide smile on his face, and then brought it to hover over Danica. He tilted it, ever so slightly, and Danica watched, as time seemed to grind to a halt. She saw the drop of wax slide slowly over the lip of the candle, down about half its length, and then fall into open air. It appeared to fall with agonizing slowness toward her, and then time resumed its march, as the drop hit and splattered directly over her right nipple. Danica wailed in pain, as a second drop struck near to the first.

Another drop fell in her cleavage, next to Zoraster's charm, as the candle crossed to her other breast. A drop fell on the swell of her left breast, as he positioned the candle again, to drip thrice, directly on her nipple.

The burning drops continued to fall. The sting of each drop caused Danica to writhe on the bed -- as much as she was able, considering her bonds. Her head lashed back and forth, and all the while, her pussy dripped onto the bed below. Soon, her breasts were nearly covered in cooled wax.

The candle went into a holder, and the man painfully peeled the cooled wax from her breasts. Danica gasped and sobbed, fighting to bring enough air into her lungs.

When the man picked up the candle, Danica knew what was coming before he had even moved, and she trembled in fearful anticipation. He positioned the candle to hover between her legs.

The first drop fell and splattered on her mound, directly on the little patch of hair she left unshaven. A dozen stinging drops fell there, before the candle moved over one, then the other of her sensitive thighs.

Again, the barrage of painful drops stabbed into her, for what seemed to be eternity. Each time they edged closer to her sex -- building the anticipation, the pain, the fear -- and the desire inside her.

The first drop spattered on her outer lips. A scream, the loudest she could muster from her dry, hoarse throat, echoed through the room. Another fell on the other side, then another. Then the candle edged back to the left again.

The fifth drop connected with her protruding inner lips. Danica's croaking cry of pain drew a moan of pleasure from the man with the candle. Then he leaned in close, drawing the candle near her, leaving it fully upright. Danica could see the melted wax pooling around the burning wick, as the man lifted her hood with his fingers.

The candle tilted, and a small stream of molten wax washed over Danica's clit. She screamed a staccato series of yelps, as the hot wax burned into that most sensitive of flesh, seeming to cool with agonizing slowness -- hardening around her bud. Blackness swam at the edge of her vision.

The man moaned low in his throat, and blew out the candle. He stepped out of his trousers with the same efficiency he had shown throughout the entire time he had been in the room. He scraped the cooled wax from her, and mounted her.

So aroused was Danica, that she came, despite the pain, the second time his cock slid into her. Her screams of mixed pleasure and pain were barely croaks, so hoarse was she from screaming all this time.

The man pounded her mercilessly. His hands reached up and grabbed her nipples, pinching them tightly, pulling them toward him, as he thrust hard and fast inside of her. Each stroke caused her head to bang painfully against the headboard, yet she just kept coming.

He then pulled from her and stroked his cock. A spurt of cum shot into her face and hair, one of her eyes, and over her lips. She licked greedily at the sticky stream where her tongue could reach it.

The next spurt was on her breasts, then another on her tummy. The last few oozing drops dripped down onto her throbbing pussy, sending her into a final wave of climax.

The man wiped himself off with the corner of a cover from the bed, and pulled on his trousers. He then gathered up his torture tools, picked up the bag, and left without another word.

Danica lay, gasping hoarsely. She drifted on the edge of consciousness -- burning lash marks and wax burns covering her, soaked in her cum, and his, barely aware of anything going on in the room.

{*****~~o~~0~~o~~*****}

Danica must have lost consciousness, because she was awakened by the old woman.

"Get yerself up. We're off ta the healers again, Garthak worked ye over good."

Danica didn't protest, because the moment she came fully awake, she was painfully aware of the burning and stinging in all her most sensitive parts. She got up and followed the old woman out the door. She hesitated when she realized she was still stark naked, and spattered with dried cum.

"There ain't no time to be fiddlin' with that. Jus' c'mon, dear," Celes said as she opened the door.

When they passed outside, the old woman spoke words of magic, and they were whisked away from the leering eyes of the guard in the hall.

They appeared in the healer's quarters and he started, nearly falling from his chair. As he stood, he exclaimed, "Damn you woman! Can you not walk like a civilized person?"

"Quit yer bellyachin' an' do yer job," Celes said, and motioned for Danica to lie on the slanted table again.

"Hmmph, you could at least clean her up and dress her before you bring her here," the old man admonished, as he sat down in front of Danica.

"Why? There weren't no time to be hosin' her down, an' ye just gotta take 'er clothes off ta see what needs healin' anyhow. Seein' her in the all-together remind ye too much that yer old pole don't stand up no more?" Celes let out an amused cackle.

"My order takes a vow of chastity from the moment they choose this path in life," the old healer said with a snort.

"Somebody should tell that to the pages yer order has runnin' about the temple. Might save 'em a right lot of fondlin'," the old woman shot back.

The healer turned around and glared, and then returned to his examination. He entreated his god for power, and once again, the stinging cold spread through Danica's body. The welts smoothed, and the redness faded from her skin, as the healing magic did its work.

The old woman teleported the both of them back to the hallway outside Danica's prison. She opened the door and said, "Get yerself on in," and then turned to leave.

"Aren't you coming in?" Danica asked. The magically aged woman was the closest thing she had to a friend in this place, and she felt the need for one now.

"No," the old woman replied, the cackling accent gone, as she walked away down the hallway.

Danica walked into the room and found it was not empty.

"Welcome, Danica. I'm Camilla," a woman seated on the bed said.

Danica looked the woman over as she shut the door. The unexpected visitor was dressed in a tight fitting gown, cut low in the neck and slit high from the hem -- showing off her curves, as she lounged on the bed. Her hair was black as night, and hung down a few inches below her shoulders. Her breasts, straining against the fabric, were not as large as Danica's, but still quite substantial. Her eyes were dark, and she had full, sensual lips -- painted a bright red.

"Quite a frightful mess aren't you?" Camilla said and rose from the bed. "I've changed the bed and drawn a bath. Why don't you get cleaned up?"

Danica walked past the woman and ascended the steps to the tub. She eased down into the water with a sigh, wondering what the woman's game was.

The newcomer walked over in front of the tub, and peeled off the dress she wore. Danica felt her loins stir as Camilla undressed, and color rose to her cheeks because of it. The woman's breasts were indeed just slightly smaller than Danica's, with nipples that were not so big around, but much longer. Her mound was adorned with a dark tangle of shortly trimmed hair.

Camilla ascended the steps on the side of the tub, and eased down into the water with a sigh that echoed the one Danica had emitted earlier. She then reached over for a cloth and leaned toward Danica.

She handed a cloth to Danica, and then ran her own over Danica's body. Danica tingled with each touch. The cloth running softly over her neck, back, and tummy was deeply sensual, and arousing. Camilla then brought the cloth to Danica's breasts -- lingering on her nipples -- taking far longer than was necessary to clean her, looking at Danica intently as she did so.

When Danica made no move, Camilla reached down and guided the hand with the cloth up to her own breast. Danica started to wash her fellow bather, and found her thoughts, and hands, lingering on the woman's breasts.

They washed each other sensually, the raven-haired beauty even moaning slightly as they labored over each other's bodies. They washed each other's hair, and then Camilla patted the seat above the tub. "You're getting stubbly," she said with a note of teasing in her voice.

Danica's face turned bright red, but she climbed up on the seat. The other woman rose up from the tub, between Danica's outspread legs, and reached over to pick up the razor.

Danica's legs were shaved quickly, and they were again smooth in no time. Camilla then put her free hand on Danica's thigh, and went to work between Danica's legs.

She lingered much longer in this. Taking her time, pulling Danica's labia aside, and making sure she got each and every tiny bit of stubble with the razor. She finished by carefully shaving around the tiny elongated triangle of hair Danica left on her mound, and trimming it just a bit with clippers. Danica felt gathering moisture between her legs as the woman touched her.

Camilla ran her fingers over Danica's nether lips, as if to evaluate her work. "There -- all nice and smooth again. Not bad for my first time," she said with a smile. She then grasped Danica's hand and led her back down into the tub. As soon as Danica was back in the tub, the woman climbed up on the seat herself.

"Do it for me," she said, her tone a mixture of request and command.

Danica rose up out of the water between the woman's legs. The legs were smooth, so Danica assumed the woman wanted her pussy shaven. She began with the clippers, trimming down all the hair as short as she possibly could. She then went to work with the razor, all the practiced speed of one who has done this task daily for years evident in her work.

As she did it, however, she was lingering as she touched the woman in front of her. Danica was getting wetter by the moment, and the water she stood in had nothing to do with it.