Challenge
Ok, here goes nothing!
This is an exerpt from a story I'm working on, provided because it's the main piece of yiff I have written thus far. It's not epic, just my attempt at something darker and twisted. The nasty critters mentioned are genetically engineered things like a cross between a spider and a bear. I may post the rest of the story.
Please note, this deals with mature themes, including non-consentual interaction. I don't condone such torture or violence. It is not my intention to portray rape as anything less that the horrific crime it is. It is not my intention to downplay the effects on victims of such attrocity.
Hope you enjoy!
* * *
Shaun stood frozen in place, a sword clutched awkwardly before him. The beast advanced slowly, tasting the air - his fear. He took a step back and let the sword clamor to the ground. The creature seemed to smile with the expected ease of the kill. He circled calmly and finished between Shaun and the door. The dragon was no fighter - he had not the slightest idea how to handle the situation. Like a frightened mouse he huddled against the stone wall, sweat pouring from his brow. A hiss went up from the other two beasts. They would soon have fresh meat.
A surge of adrenaline shot through Eric as he watched his brother become cornered. He pulled against the restraints, reminded of his raw scales by the renewed pain in his wrists. Struggling against exhaustion, he let his apprehension turn to anger, and from there to rage. He flexed his arms one last time, determined to rip the chains or his own limbs. Something gave a little at first and he felt hot blood trickle down his forearm. With one last pull, he ripped both links from the concrete wall. The pain was blinding and demanded release. Ignoring the tear in his wing, he jumped the small partition and landed between Shaun and the creature.
Eric's eyes blazed with fury as he squared off with his opponent. Shaun flattened his back against the wall and watched the two predators lock in battle. He had never seen his brother so animalistic. The other creatures behind a locked gate hissed and scratched feebly at the bars. Eric tore first one, then another gaping hole in the creature's chest. The shadow screamed and swung at him with gleaming fangs dripping with deadly poison. He evaded the monster with movements too agile for the other to follow. The creature tore into him but Eric met his attack with greater force and drove the other back. Pure bloodlust burned within his veins and he used it - fed off it to fuel his attacks. The single thick claw on the creature's foreleg caught the dragon by his shoulder and slammed against the rock floor. Shaun heard the sickening crack of bone but could not tell whose. Undaunted, Eric drove his claws deep into the beast's belly. A torrent of black blood seeped from the wound and began to bubble on the cold floor like acid. He felt some of the liquid enter his wounds and burn his flesh. The overpowering stench of the creature's entrails filled the room. The other beasts whined pitifully at their escaping meal.
When at last the beast collapsed, Eric stood shaking with rage. For a moment, Shaun was afraid to approach him, fearing the madness of the creature's venom and the dragon's own fury. Finally, a soft hand on his shoulder brought Eric back to reality. He turned quickly to look at Shaun as the frenzy subsided. The stinking carcass lay bleeding on the floor before them. Eric shook his head to clear it, and pain and exhaustion replaced the energy of anger. He noticed some of the vast pools of blood on the floor were his own. The dragon staggered and Shaun caught him before he fell.
Shaun quickly took assessment of his wounds. The tear in his right wing was red and swollen, and extended down to the first joint. Blood oozed from numerous gashes in his body. Especially disturbing was a dark line in his shoulder where the very muscle could be seen beneath a bloody tear and a deep gash on his forehead.
Eric tried to speak in a normal voice, but all that came out was a strained whisper. "Shaun...you have to get out and warn the others. Tell them what we saw."
Shaun shook his head. "I'm not leaving you in this condition."
Eric locked his eyes on Shaun's, trying to drive home the urgency. "If the High Priest is able to complete his transfer of power...no one will be safe. Shaun...please...you must go."
Shaun started to protest, but he was right. The masses were following a murderous monster and they didn't even know it. Even the Queen herself trusted in a killer. If Larek was allowed to continue in the charade, all was lost. The only hope they had was in getting the information to the Queen in time to prevent destruction. Still, it meant leaving his brother, who had just saved his life, to die.
Eric understood. His belief in duty and honor was just as strong - perhaps stronger, as neither of them would be there without Eric's insistence to join the Guard. Hesitating at first, Shaun turned away and headed for the secret tunnel. He wasn't sure if he could ever forgive himself. He wasn't even sure if he could make it out alive.
The other dragon watched him go, then closed his eyes and rested his head back on the concrete. He said a silent prayer for his friend's safety before blacking out.
* * *
The first sensation Eric noticed upon regaining consciousness was the stifling heat. He opened his eyes but his vision was a blur of red and white light. His entire body ached and he found he couldn't move. A low, sinister voice rose slowly from off to his right.
It was laughing.
"You have a strong life force," the voice drawled, like dripping honey. It was a female voice, and had a slight hiss to it, as though speaking through fangs.
Eric didn't give her the pleasure of an answer, but tried to take stock of his surroundings. He was tied firmly by a cord of braided metal twine. His eyes hurt from the flickering light - firelight, he decided. From where he was lying on a wooden table, he could vaguely make out two forms moving around him. He was nude except for the short-legged trousers. His wings were at an awkward, painful angle, and tied as well. Not that he had the strength left to try and escape. He would have to think of another plan.
A hunched figure approached him from the side and he felt the brush of stiff fur. The large ears and whiskers labeled him a rat man - probably a henchman of sorts. The other was almost certainly Razielle. Eric felt weak and exposed, and for the first time, a bit fearful. The cruelty of Razielle and her kin was legendary. He wondered why she had even bothered keeping him alive, and didn't like the answer. Of all the Guardians, he was the one she would like most to have at her mercy.
She barked an order in her native tongue and the rat forcefully tightened his bonds. He grimaced but said nothing. The forms around him were beginning to take shape. The first face he could clearly make out was a shapely serpent's cowl as she bent over him. Razielle peered at her captive like a piece of fresh meat as her eyes hungrily traveled the length of his prone form. She flicked her forked tongue and hissed a chuckle as the rat retrieved a length of iron from the fire.
"At the rate you're bleeding," she hissed, "you won't survive our little playtime."
He barely had time to guess her intentions before she jammed the rod into his shoulder. A sudden wave of pain washed over him and he cried out in spite of his best efforts not to. Razielle seemed to enjoy the scene, for she repeated it several times. By the time the wound had been thoroughly cauterized, Eric's head was swimming from pain. As he struggled to focus, she sent the rat off on another errand and leaned close to him.
"I know there were others with you," she whispered. "Where are they?"
Whether from determination or delirium, Eric managed to laugh.
She ran a claw lightly over his chest and brought her face closer to his.
"Tell me," she purred, "and I can make it worth your while."
"Then get a face lift," he chuckled in a raspy voice.
She growled and backhanded him. The rat approached her and bowed low, holding out a thin whip. Without looking, she took the whip from him and lashed it across Eric's legs. The razor-sharp metal fiber cut into his scales and drew a thin line of blood. Eric remained silent through several more lashes across his chest and legs. The snake hissed in frustration and threw the whip down. Determined to elicit a response from him, she climbed atop the table, straddled his waist and leaned over, her breath hot on his face.
Countless others had found her arousing. The dragon merely found her nauseating. Razielle coiled her tail around his leg and pressed her lithe body against him. He saw the rat throw something into the fire that caused it to sputter and emit a green smoke. She purred and licked his cheek. Her tongue was hard and rough. Bringing her lips to within inches from his, she whispered in a sultry voice.
"It doesn't have to be this way. We don't have to be enemies. I could fulfill your wildest fantasies."
He narrowed his eyes, already heavy from fatigue.
"I doubt it...unless you intend you commit suicide."
She chuckled and stroked his neck. The air around him was thickening with weird smoke, which had a sickeningly sweet, musky odor. He took a ragged breath and felt dizzy. The room was beginning to tilt, but she seemed unaffected by it. The rat stood numbly off to the side. She licked the fresh blood from his chest and slowly worked her way down to his waist. Razielle loosened her tunic and trailed her bare breasts over his scales. He noted with some amusement that the rat had an erection. He on the other hand, was disgusted. But the drug was causing his mind to wander. He vaguely became aware of Razielle undressing, but could not focus on the scene before him. The room became cool and a chilly breeze blew over them. He was able to relax more in the frosty air, and wondered if his fever was subsiding. There was someone in front of him, a hazy image he could not identify. A melodious voice whispered to him.
"Just relax. Everything is going to be fine."
Eric guessed he was dying. He hoped the others could continue on without him and worried about their safety. But his mind was so tired and it was hard to grasp anything tangible. The pain had subsided and in its place was a sensation he hadn't felt in years: pleasure. He felt a stirring in his groin as the image touched him. Softly it stroked the insides of his thighs before coming to rest on his penis. The touch felt cool and electric. She was speaking to him, but he could no longer understand the words. Apprehension surfaced briefly in the back of his mind but was quieted by sheer exhaustion. It was so good to finally sleep. Whatever happened to him now was of no consequence.
But the image would not let him sleep. Instead his arousal was growing from her insistent caresses. He doubted he would have the energy to perform sexually and said so - his voice a weak whisper. She laughed a clear, crystalline sound and he smiled. She told him she was a healer, and to just relax and let her work. Then he felt a cool tongue encircle the head of his growling erection. Her tongue was thin and soft, like his. He closed his eyes to take in the sensations. She skillfully brought him to the brink of release before slowing down. It occurred to him to wonder at how quickly he was aroused, but his weary mind failed to grasp the question and it quickly faded.
His breath caught in his throat when she went down on him again, this time a little more forceful in her approach. She sucked and tickled the head of his member. He felt his body shiver with the onslaught of sensations. She was soon sitting atop his waist but he could barely feel the pressure. She must have been a very light being. Eric tried to move his arms to hold her but found he was paralyzed.
"I...can't move," he told her.
"Don't try," was the musical reply, "You're badly wounded. Just relax."
Eric had always hated the word 'relax' before, but he was so tired. He was tired of fighting. He couldn't remember having been so exhausted in his life. Still, he wished he could see her face.
She stroked his penis and lowered herself onto him. A new wave of pleasurable sensations hit him and he moaned softly as she pressed him deep inside her warm wetness. A few strokes and he was again approaching climax. Something held him on the brink for a long time as she thrust her hips against him. He growled in pleasure, unable to hold back his reactions as he usually did. She moaned loudly, her hips pumping as her body convulsed. Her hot liquid spilled over his thighs. He felt a shudder run through him but could not climax. No matter, he thought, at least she had enjoyed it.
The glow of the moment was shattered as all the previous pain and more returned with a vengeance. The searing heat came back with renewed vigor. Eric coughed, trying desperately to breathe, but the heat pressed in on his lungs until he thought they would burst. Razielle was leaning over him, licking her fangs. With sudden brutal clarity, he understood what had happened. He wanted only her beating heart between his jaws. Eric lunged at her but Razielle merely stepped back, laughing, and motioned to the rodent.
"Go ahead, my pet," she told him as she turned to go. "Have your fun with him."
The rat's beady eyes gleamed as he approached the bound dragon. Eric growled deep in his throat, wishing for any price to get at him. The rat crawled up onto the knotted wooden table and down the body of his victim. Could the rat manage to stand up straight, he would barely come up to the dragon's chest. Eric could snap his scrawny neck in two if he could just get his hands free. The rodent let out a hiss of glee as he reached his prize, and began to lick the dragon's flaccid groin, lapping up the sweet nectar of his mistress. Eric shuddered in disgust. The creature began to undress and fondle himself, dripping his foul fluid onto the dragon's stomach. Turning a hungry eye on the rest of his body, the rodent snickered something in his guttural language and climbed up to the dragon's shoulder. His claws were razor-sharp and pricked through the hard scales, drawing little drops of fresh blood that the other slurped up. Eric feared at any moment he would retch.
"Why don't you just kill me," he asked, his voice breaking, "and get it over with?"
"Morek taste you," the rat man wheezed in broken Common. "Now you taste Morek."
"Not bloody likely," the dragon muttered.
Morek dug some tools from beneath the table, keeping his putrid body and gorged member well away from the dragon's powerful jaws and sharp teeth. Eric closed his eyes and braced himself for the worst, but he could never have anticipated the other's depravity. The rat forced a thick rod into Eric's mouth, holding his jaws partly open. Eric fought his own gag reflex as the rusty metal bit into his lips. After locking the bar in place, Morek straddled his captive and shoved his filthy penis into the dragon's mouth. Eric tried to turn his head, but was held firmly in place by the apparatus. The rodent squealed and began masturbating himself against the soft flesh. The dragon struggled for air, tears coming to his eyes as he wished for death or to wake up from this horrible nightmare.
After what seemed like an eternity being used in the rat's foul sexual play, Morek growled with his climax and poured sticky gobs of semen into his victim. Eric choked on the pungent fluid, taking as much into his lungs as his stomach. When he had finished, the rat crawled back down his body and took one final nip at the inside of his right thigh. Despite coughing violently, the dragon cried out in pain as the rodent's dirty fangs sank deep into his leg.
Two of the snake-like guards removed his bonds and led him to a nearby cell. It was then he discovered how difficult it was simply to stand much less fight. He had lost a lot of blood, and had no idea when he had eaten last. Just the thought made his stomach lurch. Eric coughed and gagged as the bile welled up in his throat again. He spit out what was left of the vile liquid, and could only dry-heave after that, the rancid taste still on his tongue. Finally able to control his breathing, he collapsed on a floor of dry straw, drifting in and out of consciousness for a long time.
"My word," the vixen gasped, coming over to the semi-conscious dragon. Eric was lying on his back, still nude. He could barely sense their presence. A thin white fox bent over him while a taller, powerful lioness kept back, watching in the flickering torchlight. Her keen eyes scanned the room and her ears pricked to and fro making sure they were alone. He was completely exposed to them, but didn't care.
"He is one of them," the lioness growled.
"No," the dragon began but was wracked by another fit of coughing.
The fox flattened her ears. "He is a dragon," she told her friend. "They are the ancient enemies of the snakes. It's a wonder he's still alive. Get me some water." She held him until the spasms subsided. Eric took a shallow, ragged breath and looked up into the vixen's eyes.
She had creamy, beige fur and was dressed in a leather tunic and pants. Her eyes were a lovely shade of sky blue, full and watery. Although much smaller than he, she was fit and muscular, obviously a warrior. She held his head and helped him take a small sip of water, although he protested at first. The liquid was cool and refreshing to his parched throat. A wave of nausea hit him, but he closed his eyes tightly and forced it back down. The lioness brought a thin blanket and covered him.
"My name is Misty," she told him quietly. "This is Catherine. We're operatives here."
"Eric," he managed to say - his voice barely a whisper.
Misty smiled. She dipped a rag into the cup and began to gently clean his wounds. He winced as she dabbed lightly around the swollen gash on his shoulder. She frowned and carefully pressed the seared flesh open.
"This is bad," she muttered.
She lifted the blanket aside just enough to examine the wound on his leg.
"It's a bite mark," Catherine said under her breath, "a deep one."
"Goddess," Misty swore, "what have they done to you?"
Eric could barely hear them. The heat was building up around him again but a cold chill ran through his limbs. He shivered softly, his raw nerves and the chill getting the best of him. He knew he could never bring himself to tell them what happened - or anyone for that matter.
Misty placed a soft paw on his forehead and frowned.
"He's from the colder climates," Catherine added, noting his silver scales.
"Then he has a high fever," the vixen answered. "These wounds are infected. We have to get him out of here."