Legends of Belariath

Marot

Rites of Passage

Chapter 1: Preparations

;The 6 chirot males crouched over a map unrolled over a tree stump, staring intently at it as their leader stabbed a finger at a small copse of trees on the frozen steppes of torian territory. “There is where we strike, the wedding of a princess to unite two accursed kiroan kingdoms. We cannot allow that now can we?” The huge male looked up at his 5 companions with his one good eye, as is body creakily unfolded to show his freakishly large physique, said to be the largest ever. He stretched to nearly 6 feet tall, muscled at 160 pounds and his wings spread to 14 feet in span. “Do you all remember the plan?”

;A bored voice yawned out, “We’re BloodWings Wunaye, not amateurs, our plan could be as simple as kill kiroans and we’d get it done. Don’t worry; with my daggers flying I’ll make sure all of them die. I’m the great Dangos remember?” The small chirot assassin, the yin to Wunaye’s yang, smirked at their leader from up in a tree where he lounged, one leg hanging down as he casually sliced apple pieces off and crunched them noisily.

The third threw a small nut off Dangos’ forehead with his usual sneer of distaste directed at him “Cut the arrogant crap you little shit, anything could go wrong and this is very important, not just as a mission but as the rite of passage for Marot’s 20th birthday. Don’t mess it up. You never see me gloating…” The dark chirot dressed in black armour of a dark paladin sat on a rock, sharpening his serrated sabre, eyeing Dangos moodily.

; “Hey now you two settle down and shut up, we don’t need a mistake like last time when Sedarpul took a dagger in the back from miscommunication and errant throws. I can only heal so much of the damage you take from kiroans, never mind each other. Sheara grants me only so much power.” The white collared, white robed priest glared at the two argumentative warriors, shaking his head in exasperation.

;The chirot standing in the midst of the sniping group of killers of kiroan raised his hands, groaning softly in pleasure, but then raises his voice to address them all. “Look you 3, I’m tired of officiating Dangos, Sedarpul and Cheprest arguments, I’m your leader not a babysitter. I know it’s been a while since we’ve had a battle, but this is important. Now as soon as I’m done we sleep as on the morrow we spill blood.” His hands moved back to hold the head that had his cock buried in its throat, gasping near climax. As he came hard into the tight throat, his wings spreading to reveal scarred membranes and tattooed blood drops on them, hundreds of them, one for each feathered devil he’d killed.

;The 6th chirot pulls off the deflating cock, licking it clean as he swallows the thick cum down, tongue swiping it from his lips. “Listen to BloodWing damnit, this is my passage to manhood and you guys aren’t messing me up with petty bickering. I may be a junior but I’ve been with you for 8 years and since 18 I’ve been fucking you all. So try to keep it together.”

;Dangos rolled his eyes. “The boy giving orders now, that’s a laugh, I don’t listen to Marot, not until he proves himself tomorrow, if he can.”

;The assassin was suddenly pulled down out of the tree by his dangling leg, held off his feet at the face of Wunaye, who growled out. “You listen to me, and you listen to Marot when he’s right, now he deserves the same chance all BloodWings did. So go to bed.” He flung the small chirot into a bumpy roll, ending on his bedroll. Cheprest and Sedarpul snickered at this, before their leader slapped them both in the back of the heads.

;“That goes for you two as well, get into Trance, so we’re all fully ready and in top shape. Marot you’ll sleep with me.” Bloodwing pointed to his bedroll, then stood tapping his foot until the others all retired, all grumbling. He waited until they seemed Tranced before slipping in behind Marot and embracing him, kissing his ear before whispering in it. “You’ll prove yourself tomorrow, trust me.” The 6 slept on after that, not stirring until dawn.

Chapter 2: Wedding

;The day was a perfect day for a wedding, a clear summer day, in a shady copse with shade from the blazing sun and a warm breeze blowing through. Birds chirped in the air, and in their trees, and a few on the arch erected for the occasion.

The light wind ruffled the feathers of the hundred or so torians that were seated and standing around the arch, the families of the prince and princess that were to be wed to unite two factions. Most were dressed in yellow with blue edging, ceremonial garb, and their white wings flawless ivory in the sun. The others, the groom to be’s side, were gold winged wearing blue with white trim, obviously the nobler side.

A gong sounded through the clearing, seemingly a signal as the guests sat in the wooden chairs arranged in a half circle before the arch, settling in for the proceedings that were soon to start.

In the trees around the happy festivities, 6 dark figures cloaked in black sat, hunched over to watch, quieting bloodthirsty growls at the sight of their hated kiroan enemies. They occasionally whistled softly, sharp ears letting each other hear the coded instructions easily without the torians noticing. They all had bows and arrows lying on a branch beside them, as well as coiled up rope that they all secured to strong branches. They quietly pulled out flasks of oil to pour carefully onto the rope, soaking it, and then tied the free end to their arrows. All 6 stood up, arrows set and bowstrings pulled back…merely waiting now…for the perfect moment.

The happy bride and groom stood up before the gold winged priest, before family and friends, dressed in finery that awed many in cost and beauty. It matched the rest of the idyllic scene, flowers of every colour set up around them in crystal vases, tables full of desserts and exotic breads, the tenderest meats, and every face beaming. The sweethearts held hands, gazing into each other’s eyes with love and wonderment, then turned to face the priest as he began to speak…

Ears perked the six stood with bows drawn, standing perfectly still, listening carefully for their signal to be uttered. Dagnos alone held an unroped arrow ready, lining up his target with an assassin’s grace, grinning ferally. Cheprest mumbled a prayer to Sheara off to his left; Sedarpul gazed still as a statue down on the party, concentrating, while Wunaye used a forked stick to line his shot up with difficulty. Bloodwing seemed calm, casually aiming with cockiness, looking sideways at Marot who was obviously itching to fire, his fingers shaking in excitement. The tension mounted until the priest started to ask if anyone here objected…

“If any here have a reason not to bond these two, let it be known or I shall go on” The priest spoke the words, then paused…looking up at a shrill whistling sound…but doesn’t see the arrow before it burst through his throat, thunking into his spine and sending him flying back in a gurgling heap.

The crowd gasped and some screamed, the bride looking horrified at the blood splattered on her face. The guards reacted quickly to trace the arrow, wings spreading to ready for flight, but 5 hums of bowstrings distracted them. 5 ropes on arrows whizzed by in 5 directions, thumping into trees opposite them, forming a makeshift net to block flight. Quickly the guards flew up to cut the dripping rope, but as they got close enough to cut them, 5 fwooshes of fire raced down the ropes and they ignited, catching the guards, and especially their feathers into flame. With screams of agony they plummeted to the ground, thuds cutting their screams to doing whimpers, and some were silenced forever.

The wedding guests were by now in full panic, running and screaming, scattering chairs everywhere, unable to fly up through the inferno. Most were still caught in the clearing when the flaming ropes inevitably burned through and snapped, dropping fiery filaments onto them, setting tables, chairs, grass and trees to burning. The gruesome smell of burning flesh and feathers conveyed that torians were burning as well. The young, old, infirm, the chirot set the fire up to be indiscriminate in its hot, killing fury. The few dozen that escaped fled out through the woods. Where blood lusting hunters waited.

Chapter 3: Hunt

Cheprest slowly lowered from his tree, wings spread to slow his descent, calmly alighting on the ground, not mindful of the inferno even as the tree he was just in burned merrily, he walked away from it, ears cocked to hear any approaching, fleeing kiroan. His eyes lit up with evil bloodlust as he heard three of them running near him, and though a priest he still had weapons at his disposal.

Head bowed he began a prayer to Sheara, his hands slowly outlining with white energy, his back to where the fleeing torians were coming from, waiting. His ears soon told him they were upon him just as they burst out of the trees behind him, running mindlessly in primal fear.

As they passed, his head lifted and without a word raised his hands to loose two powerful stun bolts into the two fleeing females catching them and sending them tumbling away. White energy raced through them, their bodies numbing and unresponsive as they jar into the ground and lay still

Cheprest chuckled, knowing they weren’t going anywhere he turned to find the third runner, but he quickly realized they were right behind him, two of them. The other had been carrying one, and now he realized it too late as two fists slammed into his face, dropping him in a heap, into Trance.

Across the small forest, almost across from the priest, the huge bulk of Wunaye stood in the tree unflinching, despite the branch right beside him currently engulfed in flame. He stood still, waiting patiently, and then tensed as he heard a small group hastily fleeing by toward him. Using his superior hearing he leapt from the tree so when he landed his fists came down on the skull of a guard as he came into view, sending him reeling.

A half dozen unarmed civilians came next, trailed by another guard with scorched wings. Wunaye growled in anger as he pulled his bastard sword off his back, quickly and unerringly swinging it to cleave the first unfortunate innocent from shoulder to sternum, then yanking the gory sword free.

The rest screamed in anguished terror and tried to run around the hulking chirot, but two didn’t get wide enough of his range and he spun into a low crouch with sword extended, blood flying off it as he sliced through their legs, removing them at the knee, sending them into their fellow torians to send them into a horrific bloody heap.

The second guard howled in horrified anguish, drawing his own sword to swing at Wunaye wildly, but is blocked easily and barely rolled away from counter strike. The first guard, having his bearings back, tried to sneak a sword into the hulking chirot’s back, only to have Wunaye spin around behind him and only have time to see a sword point erupt from his belly before he died.

“You can’t sneak up on a chirot idiot” He growled this to the corpse as he put his foot on its back and kicked it off his sword, into the other guard, sending him sprawling. As they fought the 3 living and not dismembered civilians had untangled themselves and were again attempting to escape, one with wings pumping to take off.

Wunaye turned around at hearing the wings beat, dropping his sword to pull a spear from his broad back, and whipping it forward aimed at the teen males spine, but with no time to aim and one eye, it impaled him by the wing to a tree instead. Wunaye shrugged as it was good enough, and started after the middle-aged couple staggering away.

And if to contradict his earlier statement a fiery horrible pain erupted in his shoulder as a sword buried deep in it from behind, eliciting a pained, angry howl. The chirot turned in a rage, the sword yanked from the torian’s grasp as he spun, but it was soon a moot point, as the feathered one’s throat was quickly torn out by sharp razor teeth.

Wunaye turned away as his enemy gurgled and choked on his own blood, cursing at two had escaped him, but forgot about it as he hissed in pain, a sword still lodged in his back. He hurried of to find Cheprest.

Sedarpul and Dagnos had both dropped from the trees as soon as they’d loosed their shots and hurried to take up positions to await the stampeding masses, the two despite arguing constantly were the greatest battle duo amongst the BloodWings. With practised ease Sedarpul settled in a fighting stance, holding a beautiful crystal sword, while Dagnos stood exactly 21 paces behind him, ornate dagger in each hand.

They only had wait a short time as soon they saw the smoke curling upwards and heard the approaching mob, both snarled in anticipation. Sedar began to channel his dark power as his eyes glowed black, and as the first torians ran by him headlong he released a fear aura before they could swerve away. 5 unarmed and unarmored torians succumbed to his foul attack, 3 crying out in unmitigated terror and falling into trembling, cowering balls begging him to leave. The other 2, both young women, ran screaming in vain attempts to outrun the fear.

Dag chuckled as the females stopped zigzagging, just running straight in utter terror, making them easy targets for his daggers that he threw hard into both their chests unerringly, killing them as he laughed maniacally at them.

Meanwhile Sedar casually walked up to the cowering forms, boredly stabbing through ones chest, impaling him to the grass, and leaving the sword when it wouldn’t come free. He moved on to the last two, reaching down to pick each up around their throats, lifting their terrified forms, and hissed low.

“See what Sheara wants for your evil kind? Feel her rage…through my malevolence.” His eyes burned blackly again as he looked in the eyes of one of them, and unleashed pure dark energy into him, killing him instantly, quickly tossing the body away.

He grinned at the other, casually explaining, “Such a draining ordeal, how about I show you what I mean.” He snarled as he tapped into the quivering male’s stamina, siphoning it for himself, before he proceeded to repeatedly slam his prey’s head into a tree until there was no more movement and blood stained the bark. He raised his arms in victory, but it proved short lived as fire and ice met on his chest and sent him rolling backward into a crunching stop against a tree, motionless.

Dag looked up from his chasing down and butchering of the fleeing group upon hearing spells hit a body and a thud. Knowing the Bloodwings used no offensive magic he raced back to where Sedar was, skidding to a halt as he looked up to a pair of floating torian twins floating over his comrade. Though of opposite sex they managed to look nearly identical, scowling down at Dag as they each raised a hand and fired energy bolts at him.

He nimbly back flipped away from the bolts, somersaulting back a few times to avoid the next few bolts that exploded in showers of grass. He landed to run toward a tree away from the mages floating after him, grinning as an evil plan filled his head.

He cast his own spell quickly and a dimension door opened in the tree trunk, which he dove through with both daggers pointed forward, popping out in the same place but 8 feet up, now diving straight between the startled twins. They tried to move or to cast but it was too late as their throats were sliced open, blood fountaining from severed aortas as they fell, hitting the ground dying a second after Dag landed.

“Stupid kiroan mages, think to outsmart me…now to drag my clumsy partner to the priest.” He scooped Sedar up under the arms and began to drag him away.

Chapter 4: Duels

Cheprest’s form lay motionless besides his breathing, under the two forms that stood over him. The wings on the female ruffled in anger and grief, the male not wasting time in drawing his spear from his back, lifting it high over the prone form, bringing it down with a cry of rage.

His arms went numb as the spear tip was swatted away by a sword poking in to deflect it away. A growl sounded behind them, followed by a hiss “Ah the prince and princess, marvellous. Now back away from him or I’ll kill her slowly,” Marot stated, dagger pointed at her.

“You evil bastard, you killed them all! Why? What is wrong with your race?” the princess screamed at him.

“Shut up bitch, you are the evil ones, you did worse to me. Now I’m going to hurt you badly,” Marot screeched, raising his sword to ready an attack.

The prince stepped between them, pointing behind Marot. “Not if my elite guards have anything to say about that you misguided creature.”

Marot turned to find four livid men with arrows pointed at him, quickly looking for an escape route. That was soon unneeded as an arrow was released, but from the side, in a miracle shot that whizzed by severing the elite’s bowstrings. Bloodwing charged in with his dual swords spinning, hacking one elite to death and barrelling into the other three.

He looked up shouting to Marot, “They’re yours, take them and earn a place in our race and our band. I’ll handle these fuckers.” With that he taunted the enraged guards before taking flight, leading the three away.

Left alone with the ones he had to kill in this rite of passage, he turned cockily seeking easy kills in pompous, soft nobility, but found himself immediately backing up and frantically blocking quick, expert stabs and cuts. The prince and princess advanced on him with elegant rapiers, trained well as Marot had to fight with his dagger and sword frantically just to avoid getting cut.

He missed a block and in a flash was cut shallowly three times, drawing trickles of blood, but the overzealous second strike by the princess gave the chirot an opening, which he eagerly and expertly took, jabbing her in the shoulder of her sword arm, slowing her lightning strikes.

Within an eye blink the dance of death continued, swords a blur, clashes ringing out constantly, mixed with grunts of effort and the blood flying of wounds. Marot was backed into a tree, and on one of the prince’s chops he ducked, the sword showering bark and sparks as it embedded in the tree.

Marot took the opportunity to give the princess an extra cut to the side, eliciting a cry of pain. She grit her teeth to fight it, and quickly brought her sword around, coinciding with the prince’s freed sword. The 3 froze, with two sword points on the throat of the chirot.

Up above the tree line Bloodwing led the three elites up high, their superior speed allowing them to catch up easily, but he wasn’t running, and showed the chirot agility as he turned sharply right back toward the three. Rolling and spinning right through the first two, puffing out of a small fluffy cloud to pass the third, swords flashing to bite through both feathered wings, removing them in gouts of crimson rain, sending the screaming guard to certain death.

The other guards had turned back and were streaking down on him, wrist crossbows blazing as fast as they could be loaded. Whining by the evasively manoeuvring chirot, a few bolts ended up embedding in his armour, one in his chest, but it didn’t slow his ascent toward.

When he was nearly upon them they suddenly switched directions and crossed each other, rocketing to either side of Bloodwing. He cursed, but waited for their return, taking the brief respite to sheath his sword, pulling his short bow back to the ready, nocking an arrow to await their next strafing run.

He didn’t have long to wait as one came in from above him firing zipping bolts down on the chirot leader, while from behind him crackling energy bolts were bombarded at him. Bloodwing used his hearing and agility to weave between the physical threat, and after two energy bolts scorched his back he pulled himself up and back in a tight loop. As he came around behind the streaking feather wing he growled harshly, sending the arrow to puncture through a wing, sending the elite guard to spiral downward out of control. If he lived he’d not rejoin any battle for a long time.

The remaining torian has escaped his view, somewhere in the white clouds around him. He closed his eyes as his ears perked, listening for the flap of wings, and hears it, but too late. With the top speed of the torian kicked in he was slammed into with bone crunching force, and found himself pushed earthward, rocketing in steep descent.

The two grappled with grunts and cries of war, punching each other as they fell toward the swiftly approaching earth.

Marot looked down the length of the blades, sneering and snarling, at their mercy, but he looks calm awaiting his fate, death held no fear for him. Yet Sheara was obviously not calling him yet to her eternal battle as two forms hit the ground hard after crashing through the canopy.

The bodies of Bloodwing and the elite guard thudded into the ground, making an indent in the dirt, distracting the two royals for only a second. It was all Marot needed to duck under the swords trained on him, dropping down to kick out at each of their inner knees, landing in a split.

The two cried out and their knees buckled, sending them to one knee, as Marot came up to send a double axe handle fist up to connect with the princess’ jaw, a crack heard as she stumbled back, falling in a daze.

The prince and Marot recovered at the same time, the chirot scooping his sword up just in time to deflect a fatal cut aimed at his gut, taking a nasty cut to the side that dug in and sliced him, fresh blood flowing down his hip. His own sword flashed back to send his own attack at the prince’s throat, though much too slowly, it being easily turned aside.

Marot spun aside from the expected return slice, but found him self turning right into a hard left hook, dropping like a sack of potatoes. When he looked up he again he found the sword back at his throat, the prince growling in pure fury.

“You chirot…why? Why would you do this? Such mindless slaughter for what? You massacred a wedding! I will end your evil ways!” He roared out, lifting his sword to bring the final blow down, but as it falls one chirot body was shoved aside for another.

;Bloodwing stared up with glassy eyes, his broken body impaled through the chest now, he spat blood at the prince and pulled himself up the sword with his fast slipping strength, whispering. “You are the evil one…kiroan.” He fell to the ground dead, but took the sword with him. The prince had no time to recover as Marot jammed his sword up under his ribs, sending it erupting out his back in a burst of blood.

Chapter 5: Rape

The princess groaned, hauling herself to her feet, holding her badly bruised jaw. Remembering where she was she picked her sword quickly, looking up blurrily. She rubbed her eyes and when she looked up with cleared vision, let loose an ear splitting scream. She saw her beloved slip from Marot’s sword, mouth agape, looking at her helplessly before he fell, dead.

With horror and rage tears sprang to her eyes and she ran at Marot, screaming louder as she raced toward him, sword raised, revenge all she could think currently. Yet fate conspired against her yet again as she was cut off by two forms grabbed her, one holding each arm, and Marot looked up to grin at her.

“Oh yes the princess. Have you met Dagnos and Wunaye?” He briefly double taked at the sword sprouting from Wunaye’s shoulder, getting a shrug in reply, and continued on. “Well considering your boyfriend killed our esteemed leader, and he’s dead, we take vengeance on you, as Bloodwing will on your beloved in the Eternal War.”

Marot looked at his compatriots. “This one is mine, part of my rite of passage. Tie her up then leave her to me. See to Cheprest and Sedarpul.” He nodded to the tranced BloodWings. “And Wunaye…get that sword out, it’s disturbing as hell.”

“Who made you leader Marot? I’m next in line for leader!” Dagnos growled out with a glare.

A hand snaked out to slap the assassin upside the head. “As always you exaggerate young brother of mine. You see first off it is still his rite of passage and he calls the shots. He killed the prince too. And last but not least, I joined a minute before you.” Wunaye smirked.

Dagnos opened his mouth to object, but snapped it shut, knowing he was wrong. So he helped his brother drag the screeching torian to a tree, pressing her back to it and tying her arms securely behind the trunk.

She tried to struggle free, but finding it impossible she tried to wheedle them, looking at Dagnos. “Why do you let them boss you around? I bet they’re holding you back. Free me, I’ll give you your due.”

Dagnos eyes flashed dangerously and he moved up in front of her, grabbing her dress straps to pull her into a violent head butt, crunching her nose, then he gave her a knee to the gut, followed by a punch to the chest, leaving her gasping for air. He violently grabbed her hair and pulled her close to hiss in her ear. “We fight, we argue, but in the end we are all of one race, and you are a deceitful kiroan. So we will never let you come between us. Get her Marot.”; He turned away and walked to help the priest.

Marot moved up to the now frantically struggling young woman, ignoring her various threats and curses as he pulled a dagger from his boot, raising it to plunge it down. The princess closed her eyes with a whimper, sure he will kill her, yet the deathblow never falls.

“Stupid girl, we aren’t going to kill you, this is your honeymoon, and like it or not we are consummating the massacre.” Marot sliced down through her bodice, freeing her firm breasts so they bounced free, grinning maliciously as he stared at them, slapping one.

Opening her eyes at the stinging slap, she looked down; dumbfounded seeing her creamy, full breasts displayed so freely, one darkened by a red handprint. His words sunk in then and she went to scream, but could only gasp out in pain as her mouth was pinched between a strong thumb and forefinger and her injured jaw sent waves of nauseating agony through her. She went to cry out again, but was muffled by a kiss. Not a passionate kiss, but a rough, tongue invasive, sloppy wet kiss of humiliation, all attempts to squirm away useless.

As Marot pulled away, leaving a strand of saliva strung between their mouths, he laughed softly, both hands moving to squeeze and test her breasts. “Now. I’m going to make you cum, force you to enjoy your hated enemies touch, before I rape and violate you, and cover you in my sticky cum.”

Her eyes widened in helpless fear, then narrowed in anger, and she spat in his face, but when he only laughed it dropped her spirits. She knew he had her helpless, and as he fit a ring gag in her mouth and strapped it on, her head fell in defeat, sobbing lightly, but resolves to never climax for the beast.

He meanwhile went to work on her body, gripping the torn bodice to tear it off her, ruining the last vestige of the wedding that would never occur. He torn down, yanking strips of fabric off until she was bared to the waist, her breasts heaving in sobbing gasps. He then pulled his own leather shirt off, exposing a muscled, hard torso that he pressed into her bare chest, flattening her breasts. He began to gently lick her neck, being very soft…for now…., sliding his long, hot tongue to explore around her ear lightly.

She cried and sobbed pathetically, maybe trying to elicit a non-existing sympathy from him, maybe at her dead fiancé, maybe at her inevitable deflowering. She visibly shuddered in utter disgust as his slimy tongue dipped into her ear; dry heaving around the ring gag, trying to turn away.

“Oh you don’t like that? Then you must desire me to go right to your tits. Sounds perfect to me.” He cackled as he began to knead her soft breasts, rubbing their undersides, pinching the nipples softly. His long tongue slid to her round mounds, slowly slurping over every inch of creamy flesh, wrapping it around a nipple, which he eagerly sucked between his hot lips.

She groaned in horror and emotional pain threatened to overwhelm her, she slumped in her bonds, staring at the ground, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. She began to breath faster, weak and out of breath, trying to ignore his touching her, but inwardly panics as her nipples harden slowly under his tongue.

Marot continued to torment her breasts, licking and suckling on the rising nipples, switching often, soaking the orbs in spit as he massaged her. For now he remained gentle, teasing, the rough sex could come after her humiliation. After he had sufficiently mauled her breasts he kissed and licked down her flat belly, teasing her navel with his tongue tip.

Today it seemed fate was playing right into Sheara’s plan as the chirot had said, as her body began to heat against her fervent wishes. Her secret of still being a virgin only encouraged the heat, as did her last week of abstaining from masturbation. With thoughts of the honeymoon running through her mind stoking the flame, she felt a single drop of her juices flow down her thigh, and went tense in pure horror.

Marot saw the sign of her crumbling walls of defence, of her body telling him to proceed, and licked up the single sweet drop from her trembling inner thigh. Before she could think to resist he rubbed two fingers on her hot slit, massaging and slowly spreading her reddened labia, opening her entrance to his view. “Well you look ready and eager down here, I guess you like it.”

“Please, stop, please no, just kill me I beg you, don’t do this!” She whimpered and begged now, broken down to that point, but her whimper turned into a long, low moan. An electrical surge of flame shot up from her pussy as a long, agile tongue sank fully into her most private place, invading and flickering with wet slurps. When she realized it was her abundant nectar making such noise something inside her broke and she could only sob.

Marot used his strong fingers to hold her open, thumbs moving up to rest on her clit lightly as his tongue went to work, swirling in her sweet, musky nectar. He twirled it slowly to scrape it from her inner walls, savouring the taste he forced from her, flicking and curling his tongue to press deeper. He suddenly stopped as he traced her hymen, an evil grin forming on his features. “Now this is just too good to be true.”

Her eyes widened as they met his, mortified that he knew, suddenly struggling fiercely against him, groaning in defeat and pleasure as her struggles only managed to thrust her hips into his mouth. She went limp, against the tree, knowing he’d go until she orgasmed for the man she hated.

His hot mouth moved up to nuzzle her clit, lips wrapping around it as he suckled, tongue lashing it, knowing it was only a matter of time now, and helped it along by easily sliding his middle finger into her swampy pussy, pumping away quickly in her tight tunnel.

She gasped as he manipulated her so evilly well, uncontrollably leaking more and her tight muscles massaged the finger strongly, lithe hips grinding wantonly onto his digit. The urge to vomit increased as her body strove for a climax now, sweat glistening on her flushed red body, her eyes glassing over a bit.

He began to suck harder on the swollen, hot nub, licking it as it throbbed in pleasure, finger pumping her in a blur, he knew she was on the edge. He stopped momentarily to switch things up to push her over, tongue driven into her depths again as her pinched her clit gently.

Her body arched back in a shuddering spasm of hated, unwanted bliss, sobbing in anguish and pleasure as orgasm consumed her. She bucked onto his tongue, so distraught by the torturous humiliation as her juices flowed freely, her mind a jumble of conflicted thoughts.

His hot, soft tongue cleaned every drop of her nectar from her drenched snatch, then he rose up to face her, grinning darkly before pulling her face into his disgusting kiss. He pressed his lips roughly to hers, tongue forced in to make her taste her own essence. Pulling back he smiled again, taunting her. “Wow just saw her beloved killed and drowning her hated enemy in her orgasm, you evil horny bitch.”

She dropped her head silently, looking down in deep shame, knowing he was twisting the truth, but it was the truth still. Guilt assaulted and overwhelmed her, consuming her, but all was forgotten as she heard a belt unbuckled. Her blood froze in terror seeing his pants fall to his ankles, her sobbing loud as he spoke. “Now for some real fun.”

Marot pulled her to her knees, pushing down on her head, her bound arms stretching painfully. His fingers cruelly bit into her chin as he lifted her face to look at his engorged cock. The dark shaft was throbbing, the veins pulsing, although not longer than average the girth was very thick.

;She looked up on it with fear and disgust, shying away from it, thinking it too big to fit anywhere in her, she closed her mouth tightly, guessing his intent. He chuckled at her, merely slapping her sore jaw where it was still bruised by his earlier punch. With a cry o agony her mouth opened in reflex.

As soon as her mouth opened he thrust his hot tool deep into her gullet, popping into her tight throat, stretching it out. He was beyond subtlety now, he merely forced the entire thick length deep, to stop any biting attempts. He held her hard by the head so her nose rested in his sweaty pubes, his full balls on her chin, and pinched her nose shut.

She began to gag hard on the head, choking, thrashing in her bonds as he cut her air off, turning red as she felt him grind deep in her. Her jaw ached intensely as he began to fuck her wetly gagging throat, every moan he made a dagger in her chest. Her lungs burned as she took a purple shade, then her head swam, as she looked blue, when he finally released her nose.

He grinned looking down at her sucking air in through her nose, tears streaming down her face, enjoying seeing every violent gag. He tangled both hands in her hair tightly, grinding deeply, thrusting slowly, and yanking her up and down his turgid prick. Soon he began to hammer himself in, sliding her back and forth cruelly.

Under his full control she helplessly goes limp, barely aware as he humps her face, raping her tight throat, lips stretched obscenely around him, silent tears rolling of her cheeks. She hears and feels saliva flowing around his cock, cringing at every moan signifying his pleasure forced from her.

He picked up his pace to rapidly bury into her time after time, groaning as his assault began to push him toward orgasm. His balls slapped her chin on every thrust, tightening as his penis swelled up thicker, the cum boiling up. With a final grunt he pulled away as the first shot of his hot, thick climax filled her mouth, then pulled out to paint her face white. Ropes of sticky jism sprayed her face, her hair and her tits, turning her into a mess of sperm.

As the first wave washed over her tongue she nearly wretched, and as he bathed her in the sticky mess she felt disgusted and used, a used piece of meat. She tried to spit it back at him, but with agonizing force he clamped her jaws shut, rubbing her throat to force her to swallow the vile fluid.

He backed up, looking over his masterpiece, down to her thin pink slit. “One down, two holes to go.” He saw her head lift slightly, looking up through her cum clumped eyelashes, and then it fell in utter despair.

The princess barely noticed her hands drop as they were freed, barely noticed herself drop into the dirt, even her jaw just a dull ache now. She laid out on her stomach on the grass, fully nude, shapely rear in the air. She flinched as he swatted her ass hard, crying in fear as he gripped her hips tight, and shuddered as a rehardening cock rubbed up and down her soft, wet entrance.

Marot lifted her rear up easily, pressing into her softly, his cock quickly recovering its lost firmness against her sweet cunt. As soon as it was hard again he prodded at her opening, popping the mushroom head into a very tight channel, groaning at her tightness. Slowly he eased the throbbing tool in deeper, sliding in and stretching her inner walls, pushing until he nudged her hymen. “Now I steal your innocence, defile your purity, and make you suffer as all kiroan should for their evil.”

She was trying to stay limp and give him no satisfaction of a reaction, but as soon as he entered her her eyes widened in pain at the stretching, her body trying to squirm away. She froze in abject horror at his words, trembling as he pushed on her hymen. Suddenly he broke through with a fiery pain that made her arch and scream in agony.

As he felt her barrier collapse and saw her reaction he grabbed her wrists to yank her arms behind her back, bending her back to painfully wrench her lower back. He didn’t pause to give her time to adjust, just jammed his cock in deep and fast and began to pound into her, moaning in bliss as he received pleasure from her discomfort.

She cried out in horrendous hurt as he stretched her back and arms viciously, every hard thrust into her untouched depths bringing a fresh scream as it stretched around his bulging girth. She writhed and thrashed to no avail, locked in his strong grip.

He had no intention of fucking her too long, as there were escaped wedding guests that may have gone for help, and they’d bring a larger, better-armed group. So he battered away into her silken, crushing depths, grunting as his balls smacked her thighs, panting and drenched in sweat from the effort. Slicked by juices, precum, and juices he slid in and out faster, striving to cum again.

Her body screamed in protest at the rough treatment, joints straining and shooting jolts of pain through her. Her insides were sore and cramping as they clenched the cock stretching them wide. She felt him expand and knew he’d be climaxing again, praying it to be the last time as she could take no more.

The chirot sped up, lustfully drooling almost, eyes set in heat as his shaft and balls twitched, her tight, resisting heat setting off another powerful orgasm. The first spurt of cum blasted into her depths before he yanked his dick free to squirt his burning load up her ass and back, into her hair, plastering it to her skin. “One left slut.” He poked at her asshole lightly with a demonic smirk.

She groaned a pitiful groan of absolute hopelessness, again gone limp after he covered her back in seed, but this time to save energy for the inevitable ass rape. Her eyes trickled tears while looking straight ahead, conveying the fact her mind was blanking now, trying to block it all out.

Oblivious to her spacing out Marot rubbed his flaccid shaft between her firm ass cheeks, prying them apart to look at her tight hole, a finger digging in to open her up a bit. She only lightly murmured in protest, no strength or will left to care; she just stared at her beloved’s body without emotion.

As he curled his finger to explore her ass his free hand reached around under her, cupping a firm breast, quickly squeezing it overly hard, bruising it. His nails drew thin lines of blood on the orb as dug them in, soon regaining his erection as she shuddered under him. He set the swelling tip to her real hole, letting it inflate before he took her remaining orifice.

She lay very still, her mind scattered by the shift of anxious bliss to horror beyond belief in a scant hour or so. Was that all it had been? A nightmare come true that fractured her sanity. She felt the indent on her pucker as he hardened on it, and wished death over any more of this torture.

Impatiently Marot grabbed both her tits, mauling them as he used them as handles to drag her back onto his cock, straining to penetrate her. As he audibly popped into her extremely tight rectum he hissed in triumph, screwing his hips against hers as he forced himself balls deep into her. He likely tore her but didn’t seem to care, even delighted by it. He just kept pushing in deeper, filling and expanding her violated ass.

Her eyes popped open at this penetration, unable to ignore it, feeling as if he was splitting her in two. Her teeth bit down on her lip until it bled to stifle her scream, trying to deny him that, but as the continual pressure pressed deeper the scream is ripped from her in a sob of anguish.

Marot gasped as well, the nearly dry entry into the tightest hole he’d been in scraping his cock with burning pain, but as soon as she showed her comatose state ending he grinned. As soon as she screamed he suddenly thrust fully in, balls slapping her sloppy cunt, pain pushed aside to hurt her.

She screeched out now, clawing the dirt fruitlessly, unable to drag herself away from the blazing hot tearing pain deep in her bowels, vomiting at the sudden wave of nausea hitting her. She struggled with all her remaining strength, but the iron grip on her hips refused to budge.

That grip was released then, but she soon would wish it hadn’t as it transferred to her wings, hauling back on them as he clawed at them, feathers flying before he got a grip. His prick began to thrust into her extreme tightness, pumping slowly at first, growling in an animal lust.

Her scream hit a new volume as her wings were scratched and pulled, thin lines of blood stinging, the wings themselves felt ready to snap off. Every muscle was strained to the limit and her colon was widened by the thrusts. Her voice broke and trailed off into a hushed cry as her raw throat gave out.

Marot pumped away with faster pistons, fucking her deeply as she was painfully stretched out. He battered her rump and balls slapped her cuntlips as he began to hammer her harder, knowing he couldn’t hold out long. Her painful scream and tight hole had worked him up and had his balls boiling, ready to burst.

The torian princess tried to scream, but only managed an intermittent croak through her damaged throat, her ass throbbing dully, scraped raw as she tightened up. She tried to relax but couldn’t with the wing agony and the feel of his cock engorging in her near bursting.

The tightening of her ass sent him to buck wildly into her, grunting as sweat dripped from him, chest heaving in exertion. He thrust away as fast and as hard as he could, before he climaxed pulling out though. He aimed his cock at her lightly bloodied wings, chuckling as he squirted his hot cum onto them, matting feathers into clumps.

She fell into a heap, gasping for air, looking up blurrily at Marot. She felt relief as he stated. “Well the rape is over.”

That relief fell as 4 other chirot faces came into her line of vision; the one eyed one sending a chill through her as he intoned. “Now the torture can begin.”

Chapter 6: Torture and Goodbye

Marot took the wedding dress to clean himself with, wiping the sweat from his body and the sex fluids from his groin, watching the 4 heft her up. Even with three of them injured they’d never pass this up, as Wunaye and his brother held her limp form up by her arms, giving Sedar open shots, which he was taking with relish. He peppered her hurt face, throwing in the occasional gut shot.

The princess couldn’t move, helpless to the assault she just stays limp, grunting from every shot, flinching from the pain, howling weakly as a jab cracks a rib. Cheprest stuck his staff between the two. “Slow down there…you’ll kill her…let me heal her.”

“What are you, nuts? The point is to kill her, why would you heal a kiroan,” Sedar demanded.

“Well my slow friend, if you would remember the point, besides Marot’s Rites this is a message and she is to be our exclamation point. So shut up and heat the swords quickly, we have little time,” growled the Priest.

Sedarpul grumbled as he grabbed Marot’s sword, as well as the prince’s, walking back to the burning clearing, shouting back. “Fine, but I get to show her the screams!”

“Yeah fine just go you whiner, you can show off your little powers, bitch,” Dagnos shouted back.

“Boys, boys, don’t make me hurt you before I heal you all..but her first.” Cheprest laid a hand on the groggy girl’s temple, a strong healing spell mending her battered form, yet she stays limp.

“Just kill me…please…I can’t live after this….kill me!” She murmured quietly, desperate, seeming to mean it too, eyes on the ground. Her lip trembled at their response of mocking, derisive cackling.

“Oh my no, we killed enough, killing is too good for you, we have much worse plans for you. You will send our enemies a message as to how we treat pure evil. With worse evil.” Wunaye sneered at her. “Start plucking boys.”

Cheprest and Dagnos switched places, the priest struggling to hold one arm, while Wunaye held his side with one hand. He began to pull out handfuls of feathers from a wing, causing her to curse and scream loudly. Though she screamed louder still as Dagnos more meticulously plucking her feathery pubic hairs one by one.

They made her scream more and more as they tore feathers from her, throwing it up like confetti, chuckling, doing it until Sedarpul returned with two red hot swords, grinning evilly. The eyes of the torian widened with fear upon seeing the glowing blades.

“Well where the fuck did Marot go? He’s gotta do this too.” Sedarpul groused.

Cheprest pointed to Bloodwing’s body lay; Marot knelt beside it, holding the cold hand as he closed its eyes. He looked up at them, lifting the body. “I’m going to commit him to the fire. Beat her ass until I get back.”

The fists of the brothers did a job on her while Marot was away, when he returned her eye was black, lip split and nose broken. She looked up at him with venom, spitting blood at him. “You’ve done your worst, and I’ve not broken, now kill me or leave me be.”

They all laughed loudly at her, Marot grinning to show his pointed teeth. “For one you broke completely, when this adrenaline wears off and years from now you look back, you’ll know it. My worst? No, all I have time for. Finally, Sedar and I aren’t quite done yet.”

He walked away from her, snatching his heated sword from Sedar, as Wunaye and Cheprest held her between two trees in a Y, facing away from the 2 sword holders, feet just off the ground. Dagnos tied her hands to hold her painfully stretched like that, and then she was released to hang. The Chirot switched positions to hold her wings out wide.

“Now this, at the time allotted, is our worst. Go Sedar.” At Marot’s instruction they ran in side by side, screeching in bloodlust, and swung the glowing swords up, slicing her wings off and cauterizing the horrific injuries with a sizzle and a burning smell.

The princess’ eyes rolled back, her mouth open in a silent scream, too overwhelmed by pain to utter a sound, head flopping back as she was left without comprehension, yet still conscious. She whimpered once in a while.

Sedarpul moved around in front of her, lifted up by his comrades he gripped her chin, tilting her head down to meet her glassy, pain numbed gaze. “Now the final touch, to leave you in a state where, even if they manage to physically reform you, your mind will remain broken.”

Through his gaze his eyes blackened, his most potent power brought forth as Screams of Pain filled her head. She shuddered and spasmed, the seeming screams of thousands of tortured souls tearing her mind apart, finally slumping in her bonds. Her eyes were vacant, jaw slack; drool forming in the corner of her mouth.

“A job well done boys, now let’s clear out before the reinforcements arrive.” They all suddenly dove for cover as hey heard the hum of bowstrings and the whizzing of arrows, avoiding them as they thudded into the ground. Hearing wing beats next, Wunaye chuckled. “Go now, get back to the meeting spot.”

The torian patrol touched down just as the chirot zipped off into the trees. As a young recruit moved to follow them, but his commander held him back. “Don’t bother, they’d outmanoeuvre you in the trees and likely kill you. We’ll get them soon for this atrocity, but not now.”

“Sir…over here. The princess is..still alive.” A soldier pointed to her being cut down from the trees. “If we hurry she’ll live, the medic said. But her eyes…they destroyed her mind sir.”

The general’s features hardened, eyes narrowing. “They will pay dearly. We can do no more here. Back to the barracks, quickly!” Carrying their wounded princess they flew off away from the burning wedding.

The 5 chirot set down where they had met earlier to plan this. They sat down tiredly; grinning at the blow they’d struck to the evil Kiroaja, all but Marot. “I have to say something. If it’s ok with you guys?”

“Of course, you passed your Rites artfully, you’re a full Bloodwing now, talk whenever you want,” Wunaye softly said.

“Thank you. I…need to talk about Bloodwing a bit. The finest example of our race, he saved me, and all of you, bravely fighting for Sheara on this plane. He formed this group, led us on mission after mission, killing countless kiroan. He died well in battle and will fight on in the next life. For now it’s up to us to carry on the fight. So tomorrow we fly south, he confided to me our next target. Wunaye, carry on his tradition as leader.”

They applauded softly, all tired. Cheprest stood and nodded. “Good words Marot. Now all of you, into Trance, no sex tonight. For tomorrow.. Wings of Blood fly again.”

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