Underworld of the Chevaan
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Warrior Of The Chevaan free porn video
Warrior of the Chevaan
Conine
"The Discipline of the Lash"
In the dungeons of the Roman fortress Conine stood silent, her wrists heldclose together before her by the manacles and the connecting length of chain. Herface was a mask of clam, but inside the proud warrior woman raged at herselffor allowing herself and Satyra to be taken unawares so easily. She hadnot seen the beautiful half satyr since the two of them had been set upon bythe Roman soldiers, but her mind crowded with imagined horrors that the herrecent lover might be enduring, adding to her shame.
The room in which she was imprisoned was large, about 30 feetsquare, and lit by the flickering red light of torches – no windows ontothe outside world were present. She was bound in roughly the centre ofthe space; on one side there was a low dais, upon which sat a chair backedby a purple and gold tapestry. At the other end was a heavy wooden tableor platform, fashioned in the shape of an X sitting parallel to the cool flagstonefloor, and adorned at each corner with heavy iron manacles which were attachedto lengths of chain running into grooves in the dark wood. Conine hadno problems imaginings the grim implications of such an adornment.
Her only company in the room was a pair of heavily muscled Roman soldiers,dressed in their tunic bottoms, sandals and helmets, but bare-chested. Thesoldiers were obviously well trained, for they made no attempt to take advantageof her bondage, but their eyes did take the opportunity to rove over her uncladfigure, 6 feet of exquisitely sculpted womanhood mixed with the firm lean musculatureof the warrior. Starting with her well toned arms with their smoothly undulatingbiceps, the soldiers eyes would travel down to a proud and beautiful face,steel blue eyes with long lashes and a straight nose above and generous redmouth and firm jaw line framed by a square-cut halo of straight raven-blackhair. Those tresses were cut at shoulder length so it rested about her strongdeltoids, her shoulders wide for a woman, again speaking of her unusual strength.Further down the Romans eyes enjoyed lingering on the swell of her magnificentbosom, nipples hardened by the dungeon chill, rising and falling rhythmicallyin the torchlight. Beneath those impossibly firm orbs her waist tapered untilher hips flared invitingly, the space between breasts and pubis a washboardrigid plain, flat and smooth. Her legs were long and well proportioned, muscularand yet distinctly feminine, the dark patch of trimmed fur between her strongthighs not quite concealing the pouting cleft of her womanhood.
Abruptly a noise outside the heavy wooden door, and the two guardseither side broke off their inspection and snapped to alert. The doorwas swung open by another guard dressed as the firs two, and followed in bya man of slightly lesser build. The newcomer was also older than theothers, his hair and neatly kept beard steely grey, and his tunic was richlywoven. Nevertheless, he carried himself with the same rigid posture andproud bearing, and Conine could tell with a practiced eye that his body retainedthe athletic qualities of a seasoned warrior. This man was a warrioras well as a leader, and that meant Conine knew who he had to be; Gracus, generalof the Roman army that had recently hunted and slain so many of her fellowChevaan.
Gracus took his seat on the dais, facing the young woman chained beforehim. He was impressed with her courage, as eh was with all Chevaan warriorwomen, almost as much as by her stunning physique. The fire in her eyeswas unmistakeable; she was not afraid of either him or his men, even thoughshe fully understood the fate they had planned for her.
Or thought she did, Gracus thought with a smile.
The general took a cup of spiced wine offered by one of his guards and sippedit thoughtfully as he studied her proud carriage. 'You have been quitethe criminal, my dear, with your mistreatment of my men I the forest.'
Conine faced her captor without flinching, and the thought of the blood fromthe men who had raped Satyra running down her sword game her a feeling of warmsatisfaction. 'I had no idea it was a crime among your people to butchervermin,' she replied softly.
Some of the guards muttered darkly, but the General only smiled again. 'Ican see that we will have to be quite harsh with you, dear girl. Butyou are young, and we may hope to educate you in proper manners before youpay in full for your crimes.' He signalled the men near the door. 'Prepareher; the lash first, I think.'
The men moved forward and took her roughly by the arms, detaching thechain from the brace in the floor and forcing her hands up over her head. Ahook hung from another chain running to the ceiling, and her manacles wereattached to it, keeping her arms raised. That done, the men signalledto one of their companions who worked a winch mechanism, near the wall. Quicklythe hook rose so that Conine's wrists were dragged upwards, until her armswere stretched either side of her beautiful face and her heels were just clearof the floor, her weight supported by the front balls of her feet.
The whole time, Conine never let her proud stare waver from the grinningGracus.
Behind her one of the Roman soldiers took from the wall a coiled whip,a length of leather platting eight feet from handle to tapered end, tippedwith three thin cords which would flick their target with the speed of a crossbowbolt when the heavy hide behind snapped around it's victim. He let theweapon skitter across the stone floor as he uncoiled it, and the spectatorswere rewarded with an almost but not quite invisible flinching of that magnificentform as the leather hissed softly across paves. Watching, Gracusallowed the prisoner before him a little time to anticipate what was to follow,as arranged with the whip-master outside. Her gaze was still defiant,but now the Romaner could almost believe he saw a slight strain of fear creepinginto those cold blue eyes.
Alert as a young deer in the forest, Conine heard the first strokecoming before she felt it. She tensed for the inevitable pain, and wasnot disappointed when a burning line of fire blossomed between her shoulders. Shegrunted, and closed her eyes, the muscles of her back tensed. She drewa slow breath, and when she knew she was again in control, opened her eyesslowly to again gaze with loathing at Gracus.
For his part, the general smiled appreciatively. His slave girlsat home would have been crying like a baby under that first stroke, and evensome Chevaan sluts too, he knew from experience. But he had never hadthe joy of finding a woman who could so endure the lash with such control. Herarrogant posture and the hatred burning in her eyes fairly cried out to bebroken.
The whip-wielder drew back his arm and again the leather cord flewforward. This time the lash curled slightly about the victim's slenderwaist, causing her to jerk sideways and leaving a bright red weal on the smoothskin. Once again, Conine gritted her teeth against the desire to cryout with pain, but there was nothing she could do to prevent the tears wellingin the corners of her sky-blue eyes.
With callous precision the man continued his flogging of the chainedwarrior, concentrating on her curved back and broad shoulders. Up anddown the length of her spine he worked the pitiless leather, so that soon afine sheen of perspiration silvered the prisoners skin. Conine bore thetorment a silently as she was able, but before long found she could not entirelysubdue the moans and soft whimpers of anguish welling with her. She hadto blink to clear her eyes from the sting of sweat and tears, while on herback she could feel the trickle of blood from some of the deeper cuts of thelash.
After five minutes the soldier with the whip paused to rest his arm,and Gracus took time to notice how the warrior woman's spirit continued tosustain her through the torture. No cry of pain had she given, only tinygroans, but somehow Gracus found them more arousing than full-throated screamsfor mercy. He found the notion of hurting such a powerful, strong willedwoman compelling, much more so than the torture of mewling, easily subduedslaves. He had hoped that this girl's endurance would be a match forher stubborn pride, and it seemed he would not be disappointed.
Conine heard the soldier whipping her quenching his thirst with a cup ofwater near the door, and licked her lips enviously. Her back was a fieryordeal; the slightest movement bring unrelenting burning pain. Thesalty perspiration stung the open wounds where her skin had been broken bythe leather and blood oozed to the surface and trickled down towards the curveof her buttocks. She blinked again and shook her head a little to clearit, and tried to stand a little straighter in the chains holding her.
She heard the man picking up the whip again, and lifted her head to maintainher proud bearing under the flogging. She was surprised to feel the chainson her ankles being removed, but had no chance to try and take advantage ofthe fact. No sooner had her legs been freed of their pinioning to thestone floor than she heard the crack of the leather again and felt its cruelcaress, only this time the target was the soft but muscular pads of her fullbuttocks.
'AAAAhhh,' Conine gasped in pain and jerked forward, more tears instantlyspringing to life.
The whip cracked anew, this time just nicking her left ass cheek butfilling it with pain. The right soon suffered a similar fate, andthe Chevaan was force to dance uncontrollably as the man alternated the slowflaying of her backside.
Gracus sipped spiced wine as he enjoyed the second stage of the flogging. Withher feet freed the tall, muscular prisoner was able to jerk more fitfully inher bonds, and under the encouragement of his whip-master was soon dancingwith abandon. She hopped frantically from one long leg to the other,twisting and turning as the leather sometimes stayed up about her waist again,so that her full rose crested bosoms bounced and danced erotically. Hermoans were fuller now, and spaced with hissing gasps of agony and frustratedanger. Her eyes, which previously had been fixed defiantly on his own,now squinted shut with the effort of holding back the cries and screams Gracusknew where building inside her with each razor slash across her exposed asscheeks.
Sensing it was time to take the lovely prisoner to a new level of pain,the soldier with the whip moved froward a few feet and sent the lash whistlingforward. Moved closer the cord could now curl more fully around its lithetarget, wrapping about her narrow waist and smacking hard across her taughtbelly. As the leather was dragged back it pulled at the broken skin andleft a red smear on the lightly tanned skin.
Conine moaned softly as the leather worked its abrasive charm on her,then yelped as it leapt out again to blaze a new trail around her other hip. Sheknew that her writhings were arousing the Roman general directing her torment,but could do nothing to prevent them, a torture in itself for the proud beauty. Beforelong there were angry red weals crisscrossing her abdomen and the tops of hershapely legs, each one a burning fire set in her flesh. The wounds onher back throbbed steadily as she moved and weaved to try and ease some ofthe force of the blows. She was drenched with sweat now, her black fringematted to her forehead while tiny rivers ran down over her breasts as theyheaved up and down with each shuddering breath.
There was another pause in the proceedings, and this time Conine didnot even try to hold herself erect. Instead she slumped forward limply,held upright only by the thick iron manacles about her wrists. Everyinch of her body from her sternum to her knees felt raw and exposed. Thecool air of the dungeon chilled the film of perspiration covering her and despitethe ever-present heat of the whip marks that coursed through her she shivereduncontrollably. The world swam about her and she felt sick.
Gracus took another sip of his wine and fondled himself unashamedlyat the site of the Chevaan warrior thus humbled. He did not fool himselfinto thinking she was broken, but knew her pride must be suffering almost asmuch as her firm young body to be forced to show him such frailty.
Standing behind the chained prisoner the whip-master took anotherswig of water and surveyed his efforts. The warrior-woman seemed nearto exhaustion, her hanging form drenched in gleaming sweat mixed with bloodoozing from the more damaging welts, but so fat she had not given up the screamsthat would show he had truly broken her. The soldier grunted, at onceimpressed by the bitch's stamina, but also professionally offended. Didthis slut think to embarrass him in front of his commander by withholding thatsweet music? Well, fortunately he had left the most tempting targetson her luscious body until last.
Conine was still struggling to regain her strength when the lash curledaround again, the leather giving its fiery caress to the tender flesh of herfull breasts.
'AaaaaAAAAhhhh!!'
The pain was horrible. The torment of her previous wounds didnot disappear, but in a spit second it was pushed to the back of her mind bythe agony blossoming in her tits. The half-cry was accompanied by herwhole body convulsing as the plated cord was dragged back against the softskin, leaving a burning trail of pain traced across the tops of the quiveringmounds.
The whip curled around her ample breasts again, and a louder moan ofpain bubbled from the red Chevaan lips.
Again and again the coarse leather stroked the full mounds of soft flesh,so that tears streamed unceasingly from the beautiful warriors crystal blueeyes, and her agonized groans echoed off the stone walls. The whip-masterwas a veteran, and despite the obvious temptation did not focus solely on thosetender orbs. Up and down her body the leather roved, leaving its redweals in its wake. He varied his targets, giving her no chance to predictwhether the nest stroke would sear her already bloodied back…
'Nnnnnhhh.'
...leave a trickle of blood from some new cut across her abdomen…
' Ohhh haaamm.'
…kiss her heaving tits and firm nipples with its acid fire…
'uuUU nnhhh !'
…or add new heat to the reddened, bleeding globes of her tightlyclenched ass….
NNnnnniiahhHHHH!!! '
Gracus felt his manhood swollen to the point of bursting as he playedspectator to the whipping. He could imagine what it would feel like toplunge his rampant member into that tight young body hanging helpless in itchains and felt her write under the lash while impaled on his jutting manhood. Butthe warrior woman had yet to give him the full blooded howl of anguish he cravedfrom her full lips, despite being flogged almost unconscious, and it appearedshe had no intention of doing so without the most extreme persuasion. Thewhip-master was looking over at him, the man's energy visibly flagging. Hesighed. It seemed his coupling with the stubborn whore would have towait a little longer.
Conine's whole world had been reduced to the stripes of anguish crisscrossingher back, legs, stomach and breasts. The heat from the welts burned itsway into her, leaving feeling like one vast, quivering, raw wound, but thesweat soaking her pale skin left her shivering. Tears seeped from thecorner of her blue eyes and her breath came in shuddering sobs, but still shewould not surrender her ultimate self to her captors. The desire to cryout for mercy was like gorge rising in her throat, but she clung to the lastshreds of her pride, as tattered as her smooth skin, and denied the urge toplead.
To be continued…
Kaylin
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