A Ingdom's Defilement

A Kingdom's Defilement

Chapter 2

By Noobwriter96

Twisting shadows and dancing flames flickered against Anilla's eyelids, forcing her eyes wide awake as a wave of light seared right into her vision. She blinked away the bleariness, trying to orient herself as to what had happened. Then it hit her. Memories of running, hiding and screaming flashed in her mind's eye as she remembered what had become of her.

The ground was what she clearly saw first. She put to bear her legs beneath her and to find what had become of Avicia and Myelle.

Nothing happened.

Her legs didn't budge.

Her recently awakened mind took several more tries before figuring out she was bound. A cold chill gripped her heart. Not only her legs, but her wrists as well. Muscles strained till they ached against her binds as they held true. The only part she could move was her neck, casting about what had been done to her.

She was restrained in a most bizarre and awkward fashion.

Helpless and at the complete mercy of her captors, as she was atop a wooden stock where her lower-half lay bound at the ankles on the contraption while the rest of her torso was bent over in such a manner that she was almost parallel towards the ground. Her hands were bound at the wrist behind her as more ropes held her aloft, stretching into the darkness where their source could not be discerned.

Muffled shouts brought her attention away from her captivity as she tried to crane her neck this way and that to find who was trying to speak to her.

As her eyes become more acquainted with the darkness, certain forms began to take shape amidst the low light. Spears bore into the ground, the unmistakable profile of skulls amidst the dancing flames. As she looked further, her eyes went wide to lay witness as the familiar figure of Avicia came to view.

The yellow-haired young lady was poised and restrained on an apparatus of malicious nature. Her limbs fastened in the four corners of a square device that bound her entire person, as if she was stretched like some meat out for the sun. The flickering of torches all about casted a sinister gloom and the flames reflected on Avicia's eyes as she nodded told Anilla she was well as well can be despite the circumstances. Looming shadows told her of the grim reality that she was still a prisoner along with her friends.

It did not take further for her to spot Myelle, who lay still, aside from the habitual rising of her chest, atop what appears to be a table in the dim light. Her mouth was gagged and her wrists, like Anilla's own, were bound behind her. Another run of rope restrained her at the arms. She must've had another bout of crying fits for the dim light bounced off the almost dried stains of tears on her rich dark skin.

Raucous, guttural laughter disturbed her frightful musings as not far off, the towering forms of their captors was unmistakable. The orcs were partaking to wine and food, celebrating their victory while a swine cooked atop the firepit. Others sharpened wicked blades that made Anilla's stomach do flips at the mere sight of them.

Would they be executed? Or offered to their dark and ravenous gods?

The uncertainty of their fate most of all was torture and Anilla couldn't help but hang her head in defeat.

She need not ponder for long as one by one; the orcs eventually ceased their merrymaking and made their way towards their captives. Anilla's doubts were once more reassessed, for which is more difficult: to wait in anticipation of what might happen or to undergo the cruel experience? Anilla wasn't keen on discovering the answer.

Orcs, since only yesterday, Anilla had but the old tales to about the dangerous race. Brawny and hardy people, they served as among the prime foot soldiers of the Dark Lords of Olde. Their resilient bodies ideal in almost any condition of battle, whatever form they maybe. Taller than the tallest man in their village, towering head and shoulders and possessing of physique that was the envy of any battle-hardened general. As they closed in on the three bound young women, Anilla was only reminded of her own feebleness and how easy it was for them to snap her in half with their bare hands.

They possessed a variety of shades. From stone grey and swamp green to blood red and obsidian black. Almost all had a pair of tusks protruding slightly from their jaws, while others possessed inherent markings that the remainder does not.

Out of the warband, two silhouettes stood out among the rest.

Among these was an orc that bore among his person skulls and bones in excess, in his scarred flesh was tattooed symbols Anilla could not hope to discern. There was an air of fearfulness as the other orcs gave gave way to this supposed mystic.

All stepped back save for one.

He was not the largest orc, nor the fearful looking. But it was in the air he carried himself. He merely stood resolutely on his ground and it was to this orc that the mystic took something from his robes. With great care, he grasped within his person a bundle of fur from some great beast that they must have slain and unfurled it.

Dark miasma rattled the very air as soon as they were exposed. Anilla felt the blood leave her face nad she swore Myelle turned a shade whiter even despite the dark lighting. For they were witness to foul artifacts made by the Dark Aposltes themselves so long ago. They need not be sages to know so, for everyone in the realm knows of such things spoken in hearth and camp fires.

It was a horrid instrument, one made with dark rituals for even viler purposes.

As the orc mystic offered it was great reverence to the leader, Anilla caught a clear look at the evil device. It looked as if it was an appendage of some creature not of this world. Never before had Anilla been confounded by such a sight. It twisted and squirmed, as if alive. Then, Anilla was reminded of an illustration of a sea-creature she had seen one from a tome owned by the village headman. It belonged to a sea creature with multiple arms which fishermen called a tentacle.

A handspan long and as thick as her wrist, it was smithed to be akin to that of a dagger, complete with an obsidian grip as the otherworldly material then suddenly warped to give way to the strange and almost living flesh, squirming and convulsing.

It emitted a vile fluid that continuously dripped but the orc leader paid it no heed as it slid in viscous amount from his wrist. Then he stepped forward towards brave Avicia. The tall girl trying to be fearless in the face of whatever it was their captors had in store but Anilla could tell she was frightened at the way she gripped her restraints.

Anilla was helpless. She watched transfixed at the horror as brave Avicia tried not to flinch and instead bore her captors her unyielding stare. Anilla could do nothing but whimper and shout as the gag muffled her protests and beg for mercy to spare whatever fate awaited the three of them.

The thing in the orc's hand became frantic, its movements manic like the body of a snake whose head was severed.

With a single tug of his hand, the orc tore away Avicia's dress revealing one pale breast and some of her midriff. The surrounding orcs all bore toothy, lusty grins. Anilla caught one licking his lips as if in anticipation of some succulent meat.

It dawned on Anilla what it was they intend to do. They truly were beasts. She was so stunned in horror, her mind halted to a complete stop. Avicia must have come to the same conclusion as Anilla had for her veneer of bravery was shattered, replaced by fear. Anilla watched in stupefied horror as they poised their instrument of defilement on Avicia's womanly folds, whose skirts now too lay in tatters after the assail of the orc leader.

Desperately, yellow-haired Avicia struggled against her restraints but it was futile.

The orc leader, with a cruel grin, shoved the convulsing tentacle into Avicia's muff. Avicia's back arched at the sudden intrusion, bare breast bouncing, screams muffled.

A squelching noise was erupted and fresh tears flooded down Anilla's cheeks. All of the orcs shared a hoot of chuckle as they watched their leader defile Anilla's own friend right before her very eyes. Up and down did the vile device went into Avicia, juices emitted by the tentacle slid down in excess. Avicia's head shook this way and that as the tentacles did its purpose inside of her.

To her grim revulsion, Anilla observed that all the orcs present now possess a hardness in betwixt their collective loincloths as they cheered for their leader. The orc leader moved closer, now drawing breath a hairsbreadth away from Avicia's nape, one hand settling on her shoulder as he moved his tentacle wielding hand in earnest.

Anilla witnessed as Avicia's muffled whimpers turned to moans as her fair complexion now possessed a reddish tint to them. The tips of her ears reddened and blood went to her cheeks as well. Drool and spittle dripped down from her gag as her eyes rolled halfway up to the back of her head. The sounds she made.... utterly improper.

Shameful.

Anilla didn't know how to feel at the sight. Didn't know Avicia could make a face like that.

And then, Avicia's entire body shook. It was intense and near threatened to break the very wood she was bound on as the device itself quaked at the mad convulsing of its captive. But what disturbed Anilla most of all was the expression etched on her dear friend's face.

It was....it was...

She didn't know what it was.

The nearest estimation she could tell of it was joy. But it was joy unlike she had ever known or even dreamed. Anilla had thought the entire ordeal was over for Avicia. That the worst had come to pass. She thought wrong.

As the leader stepped aside to make way for a line of orcs that Anilla had been too late to notice had formed behind him. The new orc warrior brushed aside his loincloth, revealing a grotesque gargantuan manhood adorned with thick veins and a pulsating tip. It was the first ever Anilla had seen a manhood. Her own brows shot up and the blood in her veins froze solid.

The orc warrior then poised it towards the drenched slit of Avicia and forced it's way in with a guttural grunt that broke the very darkness of the night. A screech was barely held by Avicia's gag, followed by sensual moans that made Anilla feel shame and pity at what they were doing to poor, brave Avicia. The orc grasped her by the waist as it impaled the young woman whose hair resembled that of hay with his meatspear.

Was this to be their fate? To be the pleasure toys of these brutish creautures?

A shadow suddenly obstructed Anilla's view, as with wide-eyed horror she realized that the orc leader now stood before her. In his hand was the ever-convulsing outline of the tentacle dagger, squirming and unceasing.

His eyes glowed with cruel desire as he stepped closer and another form of darkness once more claimed Anilla for a second time that night