Monstrum: Filly - Part 2

By WintermuteX
wintermutex.stories@gmail.com
https://www.asstr.org/~Wintermutex/

Previous stories:
Monstrum: Bitch
Monstrum: Broodmother - Part 1
Monstrum: Broodmother - Part 2
Monstrum: Filly - Part 1

Tags: Mg, bd, best, gore, magic, nc, ped, rape, reluc, viol

Content: Rape, Monster Rape, Dog Sex, Horse Rape, Young Girls, Magic/Fantasy, Gore, Death, Bondage, Pedophilia

Nela dashed across the green pasture, feeling the grass between her toes and the cool breeze blowing across her naked body. Purple wildflowers grew near the fence, butterflies floating lazily among them. Nela picked one, inhaling the lively scent. Sunlight shone in cozy patches between the clouds.

A sharp whistle signalled her from across the field: her master, standing at the stable. She raced to him and stood waiting obediently while he fastened a rope lead to the collar around her neck, then led her back through the wide double-doors to her pen.

Her master really was quite handsome: broad, muscled human chest, strong jaw, piercing eyes, and the horse body was a sleek chestnut with taut flanks. His long cock drooped slightly from his stomach, the thick organ erect as always. She stood by her trough, waiting to be fed.

He grasped her chin in strong fingers and raised her face to look at him, considering the little 11-year-old girl. She smiled. Her master seemed pleased with her today. He produced a mealy purple ball the size of an apple from his satchel and offered it to her, and she grabbed it with both hands and began munching eagerly. It was tart, and sweet, with a heady aroma that made her feel slightly aroused. Nela got treats when she was good: she came when called, she stayed in the pasture and behaved, and she served her master's needs well. Not like that new girl. She cried at night in her pen. She had kicked over her trough and had tried to jump the fence twice, then had to be harnessed and disciplined in the pasture when she kept disturbing the cows. New girls could be tough. Nela hadn't been very well behaved either when her master purchased her.

"Kovlek, geeyuh," he ordered. She got down on all fours obediently, the trough behind her. Commands were easy to learn: you got treats if you did the right thing and were switched if you didn't. Her master was going to feed her from behind today. The little girl arched her back seductively and thrust her pussy in the air, looking back at him. He liked it when she did that. The huge horsecock dropped on her bum, a monstrous rod of flesh mottled in pink and brown with pulsing veins running down the length.

Firm flesh glided between the cheeks of her butt and along her back, precum bubbling from the tip and spreading greasy lube along her spine. She moaned, pussy growing wet and flush. Her crotch looked the same as it always had, but when her master pressed his giant penis up against the little girl's petite lips, the flesh parted, allowing the wide girth to slip inside her. She moaned and clenched her fingers into fists when he entered her, the huge invasion squeezing her pussy walls to the limit. She could fit her master, of course - a well-trained girl always could - but her stomach always felt like it was going to burst from the pressure. Her master thrust the long cock into her in long, smooth strokes, cramming hand after hand of wide flesh into her, enjoying the feel of the tiny girl's pussy squeezing it with trembling muscles. Wet cunt lips glided up and down the massive shaft with slight sucking sounds. Tight pleasure flowed from her pussy and tummy in tingling waves, causing her back to arch and her thighs to clench. She gasped, dribbling on the ground. Each thrust drove a rearing tornado of ecstasy in her brain, hurtling her over the edge of orgasm. Saliva frothed in her mouth as her master roared with pleasure, slamming the horsecock as deeply into the little girl as it could go and blasting a thick surge of horse spunk deep into her belly. Creamy ropes of jizz flowed into her womb, squishing through her cervix, the rest flooding back along the long length of her vagina and dribbling out into the trough. Her master held her tight against the ground as he finished, the girl speared on the iron phallus, but finally he softened and slipped out.

"Dekeveth, Nela'ga." He smiled and patted her hair, then left. The other girls would need to be fed but he would be back later to brush her hair. She reached back and squeezed her rump as it hovered over the trough, horse seed squirting out in gooey spurts. He had used her goodname today, the one that meant she had pleased him well, and that made her happy. She buried her face in the trough, licking and sucking up the glistening cum. She was hungry, and the salty fluid made her throat and mouth tingle slightly, but not as much as it used to. Nela'ga. When her master's feed no longer left prickling sensations inside her, then her body would be mature enough. He wouldn't call her a Filly anymore, wouldn't call her by her child-name. He would give her a new name and she would be a Mare, able to take her master's seed and bear foals. The thought made her heart flutter with anticipation.

The Centaurum pulled her mouth open and thrust his fingers inside, inspecting her teeth. The quill scratched sharply as he made a mark on his sheet. He ran his fingers through her hair, looking for lice, and down over her shoulders, her nipples, and the rest of her naked body, before ending at her cunt. She bent over obediently. Rough fingers spread her pussy lips, and poked, feeling the girl's channel, then did the same thing for her asshole. He scratched more marks on the sheet.

Her master had grown displeased with her and sold her. She had been sad at first, brooding in the market pens, refusing to feed. They had given her a feedbag, filling it with slimy cum and strapping it to her head. Maybe it wasn't so bad, she supposed, as the inspector moved to the next girl. They took good care of her here, fed her enough, and today would be exciting. It was a market day. If she did well, maybe a new master would buy her.

They dressed the girl seductively; ugly goods wouldn't fetch good prices. Her brown hair was washed and brushed to a lustrous sheen, and a gold-plated collar went around her throat. The top was a tight-fitting strap of thin white cloth that circled her neck and ran down her chest between her nipples and divided in two, trying behind her back. Loose tubes, filmy white and transparent, fitted over her arms and legs, and tasteful pairs of anklets and bracelets worked with silver filigree and tiny emeralds completed the outfit. Her nipples and stomach were bare, showing off the girl's smooth skin, and her pussy and asshole were readily accessible. Shoppers would want to inspect the goods, or even sample them.

The bustling market was dusty, grimy air congealing with a thousand different odors. Monstrous merchants shouted their wares over the dull roar of the crowds. Everything was on sale: swords sharpened to fine edges and flails and clubs bristling with iron spikes. Armor and gloves, helmets, packs, battlegear, rations and fresh food, and an abundance of slaves. Most of the drudge work was done by the short, hunched little Sliths - ugly lizard-like creatures that walked upright and lacked substantially in the brains department. They assisted at the stalls, enduring the lashes of their masters when they were too clumsy or slow. Young girls like herself were on display, some standing or sitting, others packed miserably into pillories or dirty wooden cages. The troll-like merchant on the far side had a stock of 8-year-olds packed tightly into boxes, head poking from one end, and the other featuring a circular cutout with her rear end bulging out, pussy exposed. He hawked them like samples to promote a penis cream that he loudly proclaimed enhanced sexual pleasure.

Brutish monsters browsed the goods alone or in parties. An Org-reh mage and two hulks stopped at the weapons seller. They took turns swinging a preposterously long sword with a serrated edge, laughing wickedly, then haggled with the merchant in angry shouts. It almost came to blows, but the Org finally passed over a coinpurse and received the sword and two daggers in return. Ettu mixed shoulders with Goliaths and a party of giant furry Yeta stood near the pool, resting on the knuckles of their enormous hands. A heavy covered wagon thrust carelessly through the crowd, pulled by an outlandish beast with 3 horns, and a distracted Slith carrying a sack caught up under its wheels, squealing as its bones were crushed. Its master wouldn't care - Slith weren't worth anything. The wagon pulled up to a dock and the driver pulled off the flap concealing the cargo: a bamboo cage with a selection of little Felis girls inside, fur squalid from travel and cat-like ears drooping.

Nela and the other Fillies were kneeling in a line on the platform, hands on their knees, posture tight and chests thrust out. There weren't many buyers today. A Centaurum had bought the older girl on her right. Two others had inspected Nela, using dirty hands to fondle her chest and probe her mouth and pussy. They had both wanted a sample, and the sticky globs of their horsecum were still leaking out of her pussy to collect on her thighs, but they hadn't bought. Her owner would probably switch her at the end of the day; he didn't like it when customers decided not to buy after sampling.

The day cooled after the sun passed its zenith and began to sink. A Minotaurum - a colossal bull-like creature - held Nela in the air with its fist wrapped around her waist, and red, beady eyes peered at her from atop a long snout with a dirty golden ring fitted in the nostrils. Nela fought the urge to squirm, to scream, heart racing with fear in her chest. The creature was a terrifying nightmare, tall as a building and black skin bulging everywhere with muscles. Gauntlets and shoulder braces bristled with iron spikes and a long cock as wide as her head swung like a pendulum between his naked legs.

He peered at the naked girl from every angle, inspecting her pussy, fondling her with enormous fingers as she tried not to cower. Finally a bestial snort blew her hair backwards before the fist dropped her onto the platform. Tears streamed down her face as she took a kneeling position again, trying to still her sobbing motions. The Centaurum master glared at her disapprovingly: she would be switched, she was sure of it.

The sun sank to the horizon, orange beams of light filtering through slate clouds. The market square was emptying, only a few scattered customers left hunting for bargains in the twilight. The master was beginning to pack up the stall when an unusual customer strode by: a human woman, youthful and gorgeous beyond measure, wearing an elaborate white dress that hugged her form and showed off the ample curves of her hips and breasts. Slits at the top exposed bare shoulders of creamy skin, and the silky white sleeves stretched the full length of her arms and tapered at the backs to connect to a golden ring worn on the middle finger of each hand. The white skirt layered together in mesmerizing patterns of lace and embroidered gems. She strode confidently, expression radiating power and command. Diamonds and sapphires flashed from her jewelry like sparks in the dying light.

The filthy soil didn't touch her slippers or the train of her dress, and every black ringlet of her hair and silky fold of her clothing hung in perfect order, undisturbed by the breeze or the passing wagons. A noble, no doubt. A queen. The piercing glare swept over the dirty square contemptuously as she moved unhurriedly about her business. A grinning Org made to step in front of her, then fell back abruptly, withering under her challenging stare. She needed no bodyguard. Her presence radiated a powerful magnetism that drew every eye and commanded total obedience.

The woman halted as she passed the platform, as if something had suddenly grabbed her interest. She looked around, surveying the muddy tracks of the wagons and the ramshackle stalls with icy disdain, eyeing the armories and slave pens. Her gaze fell upon Nela.

She approached with her slow, regal steps, as if no force could compel her to hurry, and eyed Nela scornfully, taking in the scanty clothes, the streaks of cum on her thighs, and the drying tears on her cheeks. Her nose pinched as if smelling something unpleasant.

"Sheeyh'veth," her master said, suspicion on his face. They were closed.

She eyed the Centaurum disdainfully. "Melefeth tua'kon wen. Effa sheey'veth nota." He stood in shock, and she turned her attention back to Nela.

Nela had never seen any woman so immaculate, so perfectly and achingly beautiful. Shining black locks framed an unblemished, angelic face, and the dusty air had left no trace of grime on her skin. Deep blue eyes peered deeply into Nela's own, drawing her in like whirlpools. She felt like a bug pinned in a case, every mote of her being, every detail of her life, every thought and dream she had ever had, pulled out of the recesses of her mind and held up for contemptuous scrutiny. She was a filthy insect beside a goddess. She shrank under the piercing gaze, but couldn't look away.

The woman nodded to herself, as if coming to a conclusion, wearing a smile that didn't seem to touch her eyes. "Yes, you'll do," she said. "I think you'll do nicely."

Her master blustered, saying he had better stock available and she should return another time, but his protests died when she handed over a small leather sack. His grubby fingers reached in pulled out a clear gem, a diamond, flashing in the evening light. The sack was full of them.

Her hands were tied and a slave's bit shoved roughly into her mouth. A lead was attached to her collar and Nela followed meekly, wondering what possible use the woman could have for her. It was not her place to ask questions though. She followed in the footsteps of her master's confident stride as they left the market.

The woman waved her hand in a casual gesture, and purple-red flames sprung from the firepit, illuminating the sparse campsite and dancing in the reflection of the nearby pool.

Nela was kneeling on the ground, back straight, waiting obediently to fulfill any orders her mistress gave. They had travelled away from the monster settlement and through a hole in the air that the woman had conjured. It made Nela nervous. She felt she had seen something like it before, somewhere, but couldn't pin down the unsettling memory. Their feet had followed a small mountain trail for hours along the side of a slope, the woman pulling Nela like a mule until the stars shone brightly overhead and moonlight cast the craggy hills into twisting shadows. Finally she had been untied, and the harsh wooden bit pulled from her mouth.

The woman sniffed imperiously. "Do you know why I bought you?"

"No mistress."

"Normally I wouldn't waste my time on a grubby little horseslut like you, but I have reason to believe you can be of use to me."

"Yes mistress." Nela was sweating, and not from the long walk.

The woman surveyed the little girl in silence for a while, her expression one of amused contempt. Nela's arms were shaking as she sat in the slave posture.

"Catching up to you already?" the woman smiled knowingly, and then produced a small sandalwood box from somewhere in her dress.

Nela swallowed crookedly, throating drying out. She needed to be fed. Yesterday she had been punished for wincing away from a customer, switched and sent to her pen without any feed. Her masters hadn't fed her all day today. Fingers clenched as aching sensations radiated from her crotch, and her throat and pussy itched furiously. Her heart pounded a rabid drumbeat in her chest, racing like it would burst.

"Well, I don't have any horse cocks here for you to suck, but you have my permission to touch yourself."

Still kneeling, Nela reached between her legs gratefully. Her Centaurum masters never allowed this. Wetness was already running down her thighs, and she used both hands to rub her lips up and down eagerly. Warm jolts flickered between her legs as she spread the hood and squeezed her clit, rubbing the little button until she was gasping. With two fingers she worked the wet channel of her crotch back and forth, and then sunk a finger into her pussy up to the first knuckle. Her hips bucked on their own and her toes curled as she arched her back. A second finger worked in, and she massaged the walls of her pussy, muscles quivering under her grip. Thighs clenched and pink spasms jerked her into a panting rhythm, bobbing slightly, fucking herself on her fingers. Orgasm came swiftly and she cried out, bending forward, one hand frantically thumbing her clit while her pussy squirted juice onto the other.

The woman watched her slave with amusement. "Doesn't help much does it?"

It was true. If anything, it was worse. Her throat was still dry, body shaking and tingling. Nela couldn't concentrate, mind burning with animal desire to have a firm rod of horseflesh slammed home in any hole.

"Well, let's see what we can do about this little problem." The woman opened the small box and dabbed her finger on some powder inside, then reached out and traced a curving line of pink fire in the air that shimmered and faded like stardust. Lines and circles connected in an arcane pattern, and then the whole rune flashed and disappeared like a lightning bolt.

Nela screamed as a dam broke in her head. Agony, shame, misery, hatred, guilt: they all rushed out in a red torrent of overwhelming sensation. Memories flooded back, fire and death, Centaurum raiding her camp and overwhelming her tribe. Pain and terror, Jona lost and wounded, dead, her fault. Her friends shrieking as they were captured. Little girls tied up and held down, horse cocks slamming into their pussies. Days of rape, violated in every hole, firm flesh thrusting in and spewing torrents of sticky cum into her mouth, her pussy, up her ass. Straining, clenching muscles as her body learned how to shift, how to take the cocks of her masters inside her, accepting the wide girth wherever they wanted to put it. Misery and punishment, as they trained her and taught her her place.

And at the center of the backdrop of blood and ash, a slim girl, wearing the scanty golden uniform of a mage, twisting a hole in the air and walking away, unconcerned with the chaos she had brought.

Nela was writhing in the dirt, sobbing and moaning, clutching her head as the pain threatened to rip her skull open. Legs jerked and kicked against the ground. The parts of herself she had hidden away were laid open to wrestle violently with the person she had become.

The woman watched as Nela slowly recovered.

"Well, that's a little better. Quite entertaining, watching the whole process at work."

The pain and burning horniness subsided. Nela's mind felt clearer, the pressing urge to be fucked receding into the background. She crawled slowly to her knees. "Who ARE you?"

The woman waved her hand dismissively. "You may call me Sheila, if you wish. But that's not really the important part, is it Nela? The important part is that little bitch, Sarah. You met her. She brought monsters to your quiet little camp. She doomed you and your friends. She did this to you, Nela. Don't you want to make her pay?"

Nela nodded. Twin fires of hatred and rage burned in her heart. Yuli and little Tusk. Mioha. Pishniya. All her friends, and Jona, sweet lovable Jona, whose floppy ears and happy barking lit up her life. No more running across the green prairie together, feeling the wind and the grass. She'd never rest her head on his warm coat or feel him licking her face again, never feel his pink cock pressing into her until the bulging knot locked them together in shuddering ecstasy. She'd never feel her belly swelling with his pups, or get to see his happiness as he played with them and taught them to hunt. Her anger burned on her face in a palpable aura.

"Excellent." Sheila's smile was unsettling. "It just so happens I want to make her pay too. First we should do something about your...appearance."

Pink fire flared in the darkness and a tingling sensation settled on Nela's scalp. At a gesture from Sheila, she looked down at herself in the pool: a grubby urchin with a wide nose and freckles glared back. She felt at her face, astonished. The illusion was perfect.

Sheila tossed a small satchel at her. "Change into this and dispose of those other things."

Nela complied, shedding the provocative slave garments. The satchel contained a belt cord and an itchy burlap covering - little more than a long strip with a hole in the middle for her head. She pulled it on and tied the cord around the waist. The loose garment didn't do much to cover the little girl, leaving her naked on the sides.

Sheila pointed down the slope. "In the valley at the bottom of this trail is a disgusting little town of worthless peasants and half-wits. I've decided to give it over to my servants. It also happens to be where Sarah grew up. That little cunt is down there now, organizing them, playing the hero of her hometown. Very irksome." Sheila pursed her lips. "She won't recognize you, assuming she even remembers what happened to your tribe, but I'll show you how to make her pay for what she did."

From the sandalwood box, Sheila took an open black collar with a twisting red design curved around its surface. "This is what you will use. I won't bother to explain it - I doubt you could comprehend it anyway." She tapped the ends. "All you need to do is snap it around her neck. Once the collar is closed, it cannot be opened again." Nela took it reverently. The material was thin, but felt unbreakably strong. It was icy cold in her fingers.

"Once this is in place, well, she won't be a threat anymore." Sheila grinned and then waved her down the path with an airy dismissal.

Nela banked the anger in her heart to a slow burn as she walked down the mountain trail in darkness, imagining her fingers around Sarah's throat, choking her, squeezing until her eyes bulged out of their sockets, or sticking her dagger into the girl's back, sinking the point into a kidney and listening to her screams. She ran her fingers over the collar in her satchel. No. Better for her to live, to feel the pain she had brought to others. Jona, her friends, her tribe. She used rage to bury the grief in her heart and kept walking.

Brilliant rays were peeking over the mountain ridges when the sleepy pair of guards at the gate finally noticed her approaching. They weren't used to eleven-year-old peasant girls suddenly appearing at dawn. One stepped forward, eyes roaming her up and down, taking in the bare feet and dirty coverings.

"Hello little girl," he began. "Are...are you lost?"

Nela's mind drew a blank. She stood staring.

"Where are you from?" he asked, suspicion growing in his voice.

Nela pointed vaguely behind her. Her mind was fuzzy. It had been so long since anyone had asked her to speak. Her old masters had whipped the habit out of her thoroughly.

"Prolly from yon farms, Esten" spat the other soldier, leaning on his pike. "Smoke and fire there was. We seen it curling up past the hills yessaday. Cassius sayin monsters burnin pessants outta the homes again."

"Probably so." The soldier's look bordered on pity. "Best take you to Martin then. Maybe your parents will show up later. It's not safe to be out here, especially for a girl like you." He rapped on the wooden door in the gate wall and it unlocked from the inside. Guards took her beyond the palisade.

The monastery was a warm, inviting building of old cobblestone and high, thin windows of stained glass. Shafts of light slanted across the wooden floors of the dormitory where Nela sat on the cot.

"Don't talk much, do you?" The girl brushing her hair giggled infuriatingly. "That's ok. Father Martin says I talk enough for ten girls. Anyway, I don't know how you got all these tangles. It's like you've been living in a barn for the past 5 years." She tugged the brush over a particularly stubborn snarl of brown strands. "But really if you washed this every day it would be sooo pretty. I wish I could grow my hair out like this. We have to keep it short, you know." She gestured at the black habit on her head. "Well, kind of short. Not very short. But the Sisters get mad if you grow your hair out too long. Rules and stuff. Except for Sister Sandra. Somehow she gets to be able to grow it down to her waist. It's not fair."

Nela stared ahead, only half listening to the prattling girl. They had given her clean clothes and food and a wash. She felt better than she had in a long time.

"-sometimes feels like she just gets to do whatever she wants. Like the rules don't APPLY to her." The girl tugged the brush angrily. Nela got the impression she didn't have many chances to talk to girls her own age. "It's stupid and dumb and not fair. If she gets to eat the meat pies with the deacons then why can't we? Instead it's always 'Jesi scrub the floors' and 'Jesi wash the walls again' and 'Jesi do the laundry'. Maybe I should go be a mage. They don't get pushed around."

Nela's ears perked up as the girl went on. "Did you know we have a mage in town? She's staying here at the monastery. She grew up here too. I didn't know her but I guess my aunt knew her sister or something. She's pretty. Seems kind of weird though. I wonder why they make her wear those funny metal things. They hardly cover up anything at all!" Jesi tittered. "Yesterday she was on the balcony and the wind was blowing kinda hard and it was moving the little cloth things and I could even see her private par-"

"That will be enough Jesi." One of the sisters interrupted as she entered the room. "Thank you. You will do your novice exercises and then sweep the main hall before the evening service."

"Yes Sister." Jesi mumbled, giving a clumsy bow before leaving the room.

"Well you look a bit better," the woman said, sitting on the cot. "Your ears are still intact. That's good. Jesi has been known to talk them off. I am Sister Sandra."

Nela nodded. Sandra had an angelic face with full lips and an inviting smile. A sweep of lustrous black hair tumbled in gorgeous ringlets from a short habit. She peered into Nela's eyes and felt the pulse on her neck, then examined the girl's skinny arms with a sigh.

"Not sure how you got all these scratches. At least they're clean now. Your bath water was almost black when I emptied it." Sandra rubbed her hands comfortingly. She had the warm expression of one with long practice caring for others and putting them at ease. "Do you know where your parents are?"

Nela shook her head. It seemed safest to say nothing.

"Well don't worry, I'm sure they are fine. The guards will be able to locate them once the village is safe. Come along and let's see Father Martin. He will be the one to decide whether you can stay with us."

A pained, angry conversation was drifting from the crack of the double doors when Sandra arrived upstairs with Nela in tow.

"-and two score of Org. Their tracks were sighted at the entrance to the valley. And you know we lost the trail of hoofprints from the Centaurum when they went upriver."

"So you say, but I am still not convinced-"

"Five more farms burned, and all my wards tripped at the far pass." The voice of a young girl. "You can't deny it any longer. We found the campsites, the bodies. Girls were taken."

"They've gathered. We're certain." The young man was angry, on the verge of yelling. "We can't wait any longer."

A long sigh. "If only we had had more time to prepare, we could make better use of it. Do what you need to do."

The door opened into a rich office of mahogany and candlelight, and out came a muscled young man in armor and a half-naked girl with a white staff. Nela gritted her teeth: Sarah! She looked slightly older, hips wider and breasts bigger and a fresh scar on her back, but there was no doubt. She passed Nela and Sandra by without a second glance for either. The armored man followed, holding his helmet under his arm and running fingers through tangled black hair, muttering angrily.

Her fists clenched themselves involuntarily as Nela watched the girl's receding back with eyes smoldering like coals. She wanted to scream. Her things were back in the dorm, but if she had them she would have drawn her dagger and gutted the bitch right there in the hallway. Sandra arched an eyebrow at her questioningly. With great effort, Nela composed herself and got her racing heart under control.

Sandra led her into the priest's office. Lavish carpets and tapestries mixed with bookcases brimming with old tomes of every size and color. A jowled man in black robes sat behind a large desk piled high with scrolls. The room smelled of incense and dust. "Thank you Sister Sandra," Martin said after she had knelt to kiss the ring on his hand. "So this is the farmer girl who appeared at the gate this morning?" He eyed Nela head to toe, taking in the 11-year-old girl with a fatherly gaze. "I see." He turned to Sandra. "You may leave us now, Sister."

The door creaked shut behind her. "Well girl, let's have a closer look at you," Martin said, coming around the desk.

Father Martin was a fat man with thick, sausage-like fingers festooned with bejewelled rings. He leaned back against his desk and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Do you like it here?" he asked.

Nela forced a smile. "Er...yes".

"Good. You will reside at the church, of course." The commanding voice left no room for argument. "You wouldn't be the first girl we've taken in. The Church always provides food and shelter to those in need, of course." He rubbed her shoulders gently, eyes roving over the thin white smock and skirt the Sisters had provided.

"The Sisters here devote themselves in service to the Church. In return, the Church provides them with everything they need." His grin was disquieting. "A guest of our order is expected to provide service also."

He was rubbing up and down her bare arms, feeling the girl's smooth flesh. "The order does maintain certain standards of course. Promptness, obedience, cleanliness. Turn around."

Nela did as she was ordered. Martin let his fingers roam over the back of her neck, massaging the muscles, and then trace down the sweep of the little girl's back, rubbing the thin skirt over her hips and butt. Her shining hair smelled of gooseberries and clean soap from the wash the Sisters used. Strong hands guided her shoulders to face him again.

"The girls here must maintain the virtue of cleanliness. 'Cleanliness is next to godliness', they say." He grinned down at her lasciviously. "We are responsible for ensuring the girls have the proper standards." He tapped the smock at the shoulder. "Take this off."

Nela pulled first one arm and then the other into the loose smock and yanked it over her head. Martin smiled at the bare-chested girl and pulled her closer to him. Eager hands rolled her shoulders and fondled her flat chest, fingers tweaking the tiny nipples, before moving down to explore the little pink belly button. He turned her around and pulled her rump against his robes then ran his hands up and down the sloping curves of her sides and hips, rumbling approvingly.

Nela's face grew flush under the heavy petting. Sarah was here. Nela would do whatever he wanted, whatever was necessary, until she could get close to that bitch and get her revenge. Martin was squeezing her skin roughly now, pretense of gentleness gone. A big hand clamped her head and forced her down onto her knees in front of him, and the other fumbled with the cord of his robes. The black cloth pulled apart and his prick fell out in front of her face.

He was surprisingly wide, but not very long. The stubby shaft was capped with a slightly lopsided head that smacked her in the face when Martin reached down to grab it. Nela knew what was required of her, and didn't resist when the priest pushed his cock against her lips and into the little girl's mouth. She was hardly a novice, and figured the easiest way to get back to hunting Sarah would be to get him off as quickly as possible. Her tongue worked over the broad head, licking in circular strokes, tasting the salty tang of precum and working up enough saliva. She began to bob up and down, using the fluid to glide her lips tightly over the shaft until the dick was bumping the back of her throat with each thrust.

Martin planted both hands behind him on the desk and moaned ecstatically as the little 11-year-old worked her mouth on him. "Gods above! Where did you learn such skills?"

Nela licked and sucked, feeling the cock swell up in her mouth. A human penis didn't exactly compare to the feeling of being stretched apart by the huge girth of a horse in your mouth, cramming itself down your throat until your belly bulged from the buckets of cum it put in your stomach, but she didn't mind. Martin was close now. She could feel the vein on his dick pulsing in excited rhythm and his hips were bucking against the desk, toppling the precarious piles of scrolls. Her right hand curled around the shaft in front of her mouth, and she increased the pressure, sucking eagerly while her left hand fondled the dangling testicles. They clenched in her grip and he reached down to hold her deep as cum spurted from his dick into the little girl, filling up her mouth and throat and trickling down her chin. She popped off his prick with a slurping sound and looked up at him, holding her tongue out so he could see the white ball of goo, then swallowed it down.

Speechless, chest heaving, he pulled his robes over his head. The erect prick flapping at her eye level showed he wanted more. He grabbed the girl, hauling her up by her shoulders, and planted her on her back on the fluffy red cushions of the couch. Eager hands reached for her waist and yanked the skirt down, pulling it over her legs and tossing it aside. Martin loomed over the little girl under him, admiring her erect nipples and flat tummy, legs already spread in invitation. He dived for her pussy, greedy tongue sliding over the hairless lips and lapping at her clit until she arched her back, moaning. A throbbing pulse began in Nela's cunt as the fat fingers and tongue worked in unison, massaging up and down, flicking her button, and sinking into her pussy. She raised her arms over her head and sighed. He was fat and old and ugly, but he wasn't half bad at licking a little girl's cunt. She wondered how many other girls he had taken in this office. Maybe Sandra or Jesi. Maybe all of them.

A drooping, hairy belly pressed down against her as he straddled the girl, hands pinning her arms to the cushions, throbbing prick lined up at her cunt. He thrust into her eagerly, and her pussy walls swelled as they gripped the thick shaft of flesh that entered her. Martin bent down to press a slobbering kiss on her mouth, panting as he penetrated the girl like a rutting beast. She squeezed and clasped her muscles around him, enjoying the pistoning sensation that flared out into delicious flashes of pleasure that ran up her spine. A gasp worked its way out of her throat as her back scraped against the fibers of the couch. She was pinned under him, unable to wiggle as the large body held her arms down and impaled her. Martin's pelvis slammed into hers in frantic strokes, burying his cock in the little girl until his balls slapped against her ass with each stroke. Maybe he was surprised he could fit all the way inside such a young little thing. Nela's toes curled and her back arched as the pounding whipped pink froth in her brain into a whirling tempest, carrying her up into the dizzying pulse of a mounting orgasm. The prick swelled in her cunt and buried itself with a final plunge, and she felt sticky fluid splash up into the long canal of her pussy. Her fingers clenched the cushions as she gave a shuddering cry, awash in her own orgasm, the big, hairy body enveloping her and filling her up with fluid.

Martin stayed on her for a few minutes, caressing her face and arms, but finally pulled out of her with a slurp, spilling a pool of cum onto the couch. He rewrapped himself in the voluminous black robes and threw her clothing at her. "Get dressed." She did so.

He cleared his throat and tried to sound imperious. "I believe you will meet our standards. Services are at midday and sundown, with vespers after the evening meal. Remember our guidelines for cleanliness. Sister Sandra will guide you in your other duties. You may go."

Nela nodded silently. She would do as she was told until she had a chance to strike. She was here for Sarah alone.

They waited for nightfall before they attacked. Nela was awakened by blowing horns, the yelling of dozens of men as they shouted orders to each other. She left the dormitory and mounted the stairs to the second level of the monastery and came out onto the wide circular veranda that overlooked the town from the monastery roof.

The cloudy sky had deepened to a stormy grey in the evening and now lightning flashed against the distant hills, throwing ominous shadows against the buildings of the town. Beyond the palisade were hundreds of red lights: torches, held by menacing forms that brandished crude weapons and shouted war cries. Mounting winds grabbed her hair and blew droplets of rain into Nela's face.

Below the monastery grounds, men scurried like ants throughout the village, soldiers and citizens scrambling in a panic to organize the defenses. There were hundreds of monsters out there, or thousands. This was no raid: a force this large could smash the village utterly. As Nela watched, huge shadowy forms hurled enormous boulders at the service gate on the eastern side, shattering the wooden wall to splinters and sending men hurling to the ground. Arrows with flaming tips began to arc into the town in waves, catching on dry grass, hay, and thatch, spreading into a torrent of flame. Bells rang and men passed buckets from nearby wells to fight the growing inferno.

Sisters and guards ringed the veranda edge, soldiers cursing fiercely, shouting orders down and blowing horns. Lightning revealed more forms at the far edge: Sarah and the commander, Martin, Sister Sandra. Their loud argument carried on the wind.

"-TOLD you that they were massing in the forest-"

"-down to organize the defenses, but -"

"-delayed too long! Now it's not ready. Foci need time to accumulate charge from latent-"

This last was shouted shrilly in a girl's voice: Sarah's. Martin and Sandra broke off, gathering up all the citizens and rushing them back into the building. Nela hung back in the shadows, unnoticed. Rain began to pour in driving sheets, dampening the fires that raged in the town, and only a few guardsmen remained on the roof with Sarah and her companion. Nela crept closer to listen.

"-have to bring everyone up out of the market area. The lower town is already lost."

"There must be over 300 Org down there. Ettu also, and I see Centaurum and Hellhounds."

"God's mercy! How did so many get past us up into the mountains?"

"They had help. Our only choice is in empowering the - LOOK OUT!"

They ducked as a black boulder soared through the darkness and crashed into the veranda like a meteor, smashing through half the pillars on one side and exploding into the cobblestone wall. One man had been knocked bodily off the rooftop and the other had caught the full force of the flying rock in the chest, hurtling backwards into the wall. His body lay on the ground, arms and legs shattered into grotesque angles.

"Minotaurum!" someone yelled. Nela peeked up from behind a large flowerpot. The palisade nearby had been crushed by the towering bull creature and monstrous forms were flooding into the area near the monastery.

"Damn! We have to go!" yelled the commander, drawing his sword. "We'll buy you enough time Sarah. God's blessing upon us, we will."

"Cassius, wait" Sarah began. She grabbed his hand. "Promise, please. You have to promise...that you'll come back to me. I can't do it without you." Her voice cracked with emotion.

"I don't know what tomorrow will bring Sarah. I love you, you know that. But I promise that whatever happens, with the grace of the gods we'll meet again, in this life or the next."

Cassius pulled Sarah close and kissed her passionately, metal armor pressed against her bare rain-slick skin. Then he turned and motioned to his men, and they were gone. Sarah stood at the end of the veranda, a solitary figure, looking frightened and alone.

This was Nela's chance. The collar was already in her hands as she crept closer over the shattered rubble. Sarah was holding something aloft that glittered in the night: a small white disc. The Je'lai. It began to pulse with a thready light, cycling through a dizzying spectrum of colors as a rising hum filled the air. A white shield flickered into existence like a bubble, centered on Sarah and the object she held aloft. Raindrops splattered against it and ran down in streaks.

Nela stepped over a chunk of marble, trying to keep from making any noise. The orange glow of fires flickered against the low clouds as the town burned, and chaotic screaming filled the air. Men fighting and dying, animals butchered, women and girls dragged out of their houses to be raped by monsters in the streets. The lamentations mixed with the wind of a gathering tempest. The Je'lai's light flickered in an increasing frequency until it was pure and steady and the hum sent the pebbles on the roof rattling. Closer now. Nela stepped near the base of one of the shattered pillars and just had time to duck as a line of arrows sailed through the air where her head had been, shattering into pieces against the spherical shield of magic that surrounded Sarah. The girl was hovering, feet lifted off the ground, and body illuminated by the brilliant white light that pulsed like a beacon in the sky.

Seeing her face again filled Nela with rage. She wished she could go back and plant a dagger in her throat the moment she drug her out from under the wagon, before her tribe had taken the mage in and made her an honored guest, before Sarah's presence had led the Centaurum to the Nadoha camp, a disaster she avoided with a smug little smile as she stepped through a hole in the air. Jona, dead because of Sarah. Agony. Her friends, captured and enslaved because of Sarah. Rage. She would pay. She was right in front of Nela now, eyes closed and head thrown back, floating on the waves of radiating power.

The Je'lai was a second sun now, blinding in the night, its light lancing up into the sky like a needle and drawing wind and clouds into a swirling vortex. The veranda seemed like it would shake apart. Reality teetered on the brink of a wild explosion of primal energy that buzzed tangibly in the air. It reached an apex, coiling into itself, primed to be unleashed through the shining focus held in the little girl's hand. Her slippers touched the ground. The shield disappeared. Sarah raised her ivory staff in a smooth gesture and the A'sham on the end glowed with brilliant fire.

Nela reached up and snapped the collar around her throat. The light and the buzzing in the air died instantly, collapsing unformed into the driving wind of the night. Sarah shrieked and whirled around, fingers frantically probing the seamless ring around her neck. Nela's face had prickled in an uncomfortable sensation and she felt at her nose. The illusion was gone.

"What?! Who did-YOU!"

Sarah spun her staff in a graceful arc and pointed it at Nela, then screamed and clutched her head in agony. She fell to the ground, staff bouncing away, howling madly. Nela watched with glee as the mage kicked and writhed in torment. This was for Jona. Sarah gibbered and clutched at the rock of a broken pillar, trying to get to her knees. Now she would know pain. Nela drew her dagger. Maybe she would cut a few pieces off, for souvenirs.

Sarah rolled over and managed to scramble to her feet, eyes bloodshot and tears streaking down her cheeks.

"How could...how are you alive?" She fingered the collar with a horrified expression. "This is...do you even realize what you've done?"

Revenge was a sweet honey. Nela approached Sarah, who stumbled over backwards. Her pain wasn't enough, she wanted to see her bleed. Jona deserved nothing less. She should feel everything he did before she died, every broken bone, every terrified moment. Nela slashed and Sarah rolled to the side.

The mage scrambled and made a mad dash for the door. Nela jumped and both girl's crashed to the wet stone surface. Her finger exploded in pain: Sarah had locked her jaw on it. Nela punched the girl in the face, slamming her head into the stone.

Hate bubbled like a volcano inside her. She straddled the mage and curled her fingers around the girl's throat, fury filling her vision with a red haze. She screamed in Sarah's face.

"JONA!" she shrieked, and slammed Sarah's head down.

"DON'T YOU EVEN REMEMBER!" Slam!

"YOU KILLED HIM!" the girl's head bounced on the rock.

"BECAUSE I TRUSTED YOU!" Sarah was coughing blood after the final smash, eyes unfocused.

It was time to finish it. She wasn't going to let Sarah live, collar or no collar. Justice demanded she die, a life for a life. She raised her dagger to cut Sarah's throat.

"Now now now, I think that's enough." Sheila plucked the dagger effortlessly from Nela's hand like an adult taking a toy from a child.

Nela looked up, confused, hazy. Her face was wet. Tears had run down and mixed with bubbling saliva and blood on her chin.

The wind and rain seemed to glide around Sheila, as if it couldn't muster the power to disturb her dress or her perfect hair. Immaculate, as always. She reached down with a gloved hand and picked up the smooth white disc with the curious symbol on the side.

"Well, it certainly is nice to get my property back at last." She tucked the disc away inside her dress. "It was quite a lot of trouble. There are certain sorts of people I truly despise, you know."

Nela couldn't sit up anymore. She collapsed onto her back on the stone, chest heaving, looking up at the roiling storm. She felt herself sobbing hysterically and tried to remember where she was.

"The entitled. Those who think they should just receive without working for it." Sheila's white slippers padded menacingly towards Sarah.

"The oblivious. Fools unaware of their peril." Sheila continued. Sarah was mumbling as she cowered on the stone, body slicked with rain.

"And, of course, thieves. I HATE thieves." Sheila kicked Sarah in the chest savagely, the girl's blood failing to stain her slipper.

"Sheila..." Sarah croaked weakly. Sheila reared back and kicked her again, then a third time, expression transforming into a snarling expression of feral rage utterly unlike the calm demeanor she had before. Sarah curled into a ball.

Sheila bent down next to Sarah, who was wailing uncontrollably. "I spent the night trying to figure out what I would do with you." The index finger of Sheila's gloved hand traced a slow line down her back to her privates. "There must be something appropriate for your crime, and I do believe I have it. I will give you to the Fiends."

Sarah covered her bloody face with her hands, shaking her head side to side, blubbering incoherently.

"Funny thing about the Abyss: it is transfinite. It exists alongside and outside of time. Of course, that means that once you're there, you're always there. You can't escape, because that would mean a manifold projection into plenary causality, and the Abyss is already a transcompass of all the flat circle of time."

"But you probably already knew that." Sheila stood up and pretended to straighten her pristine white sleeves. "~~Come back to me~~" she sang in a mocking, sing-song voice. "Pathetic. No, you won't meet him in the next life. Your soul is going somewhere else. I don't deal lightly with those that betray me." Sarah was looking at the sky in a daze, mouth moving in silent prayer, begging the gods for death or mercy.

With a spiraling gesture, reality twisted itself into a hole next to Sheila. Loose pebbles bounced towards the portal as the wind flowed into it. "Oh, by the way," Sheila said, looking over at Nela. "All nearby magical fields collapsed when you collared this brat. That includes your Conversion mitigation. You'll be back to a good little horseslut in a day or so, taking nice big horsey dicks into all your holes. Won't that be fun?"

She grabbed Sarah by the air and dragged the screaming girl bodily through the portal. It collapsed behind her with silent thunder.

Nela crumpled onto the shattered stone floor, exhausted. Revenge was the taste of bile in her mouth. Smoke and fiery cinders blew in the wind, mixing with screams carried from the town, the crying of women and girls. Jona, she ached for him, yearned to go back to a simple time when she had run across the green prairie by his side, both of them feeling each other's happiness, sure of their future.

She could already feel the faint itching in her pussy, a stirring that demanded attention. Smashing sounds came from below, monsters breaking through the boarded-up gates of the monastery. Would she even remember Jona? Memories had buried themselves in the deep, secret places of her mind, and a gesture from Sheila had brought them all back. Now she would lose them all again, like dying a second time.

Nela wouldn't even remember her revenge for Jona. She didn't want to remember it. Shattering wood and guttural speech came from inside the monastery. Hoofbeats on stone, the smashing of glass. Screams. The Centaurum had found the Sisters. She closed her eyes and tried to hold onto the last precious memories. They shone like a long string of precious jewels, being pulled from her grasp by an inexorable tide. She focused on one: a day, years ago, not long after she had been Bonded.

They had dashed across the emerald prairie at the height of a summer day, sweating and laughing, until they came to the river. She must have been 8 or 9, and Jona had been a smaller dog. Laughter and splashing in blue water and a picnic of smoked meat sandwiches, and when a turtle wandered onto the shore Jona had sniffed it and then accidentally flipped the poor creature with his snout. She had laughed as he barked hysterically when the squirming creature tucked into its shell to hide from the snuffling nose. Finally Nela took pity and flipped it over on the soft mud so it could escape the curious canine.

They had made love in the long grasses to the background noise of summer insects and calling hawks, enjoying each other until the sun went down and stars twinkled in the sky. It was the first time Jona had fit his knot into her, she remembered. Her mate had brought her to new heights of love and pleasure, fulfilling her in ways she hadn't even known. It had been the perfect day.

Even this memory would be lost. A Centaurum with a net and a long, curving scimitar came out on the veranda. He saw the helpless little girl lying on the ground, and smiled. Her masters had returned.