Content Note: This story is non-con femdom. Pt. 1 of the story is here.
Over time, restrained in one position, there was pain simply from his own weight against the stone and the inability to straighten his body, either to lie flat or stand. There was the sensation of wetness from what lingered of the oil she had used on him, and an ache that twinged inside. He had slammed his wrists, repeatedly against the altar to try to break the manacles and tugged until the skin was raw. Neither had freed him.
The shuffle clunk continued, behind. He practiced turning his head from side to side, and could see the shambling bodies of the dead on patrol when their path looped by him.
Foul things. He had fought them before, with the will of the Purifier and with a sword. He interspaced escape attempts with prayer, that the dead would be out to rest again, that the Necromancer would be annihilated, and that his cowardice and weakness to temptation would be forgiven. When he thought about her it was now with a shared mixture of rage, shame and desire.
She had somehow corrupted him, drawing a response from his flesh. And yet if she was so confident she could leave him alive to toy with, he believed he could use that to break free. Sooner or later her guard would slip.
Hours passed. He allowed himself to sleep, uncomfortably, belly down on the altar. It was the shallow kind that left him fatigued and twitchy. Presently, as the light filtered through the tinted glass panels in the roof showed dawn was there, he woke. More time followed.
She arrived again at what he thought to be mid-morning, her voice cheerful, “Hmm, someone’s a messy boy after his first fuck.”
He grunted and craned his head to look at her. She was clad no more modestly than the night before, this time in a robe that swept the floor in the back, but had a notch in the front such that everything below her upper thigh was displayed, tall boots and all. He did not expect modesty from her, but this would be easier if she was as twisted outside as she was inside.
“I slept longer than I usually do. I was up late last night getting someone finished for you!” She waved a set of metal rings in different sizes, from bracelet to wider. “Do you know what these are?”
They reeked with blackest magic, repulsive to everything he believed in. The torment of bound souls, torn and folded into molten metal.
She pulled one open with both hands, revealing a hinge. “Sappers. At my least whim, you will feel them start to drain your life force.”
Despite the futility, he struggled against these being put on his limbs, and around his throat. They were perceptibly cold and did not warm to his skin.
“Shall we test them, then Paladin-whore?” She had stepped back from him after completing the task, and from some signal he didn’t see, one of the undead guards shambled towards him. Its clumsy, stiff fingers fumbled the locks on the manacles with a long, old fashioned key.
He stayed patient until the first lock was undone and that wrist was free. Then, as it did the other one, he timed it, praying as he did so.
The Purifier had not abandoned him yet, and he was able to stand upright. His mouth formed sacred evocations struggling to get one of his new bracelets off his raw wrists.
There was a high pitched shriek that knifed through his joints and the cold intensified, burning his fingers as well as where each limb and his throat was ringed. His strength flagged. He prayed for more time, abandoning trying to take them off to turn and try to charge the Necromancer.
Even as he felt the Purifier’s blessing answer, his body weakened faster. Turned, facing her, he made two steps before he fell to his knees, and then prone.
The last thing he heard was her voice, remarking something about his stamina, and everything faded dark and cold.
When he awoke it was curled in his side, in a space he realized was a fancier single person crypt. Much of the place was filled with a stone slab, its resident presumably drafted from a prior eternal rest to join the horde. He was on the floor, with only the light that came through the cracks around a heavy door. Above him, two eerie red eyes watched from one corner of the ceiling.
Touching the Sappers with a finger made them start to cool rapidly, so he left them alone. It was dark, so he called upon the numinous blessing of his god, a weak light that let him see a bucket in one corner, and a crumpled bundle.The two eyes in the ceiling proved to be inside a mounted skull, a crude means to surveil. Likely, the poor bound ghost inside was instructed to tattle if he tampered with it.
Investigating the bundle showed it was a single sheet and a third of a loaf of bread, dry from sitting unwrapped, and some water in a wooden bowl.
He eyed both meager comforts with disdain, though he knew they meant she might be intending to keep him indefinitely for some purpose. He would ignore his hunger for now and sustain himself on prayer instead.
It felt wrong, though, to kneel naked to pray. Grudgingly, he wrapped the sheet around him since he lacked a shirt. Moving and stretching his body reminded him of twinges inside.
Prayer continued. Nonetheless, as his mouth uttered the familiar evocation, “…and drive from me the temptation of desire, of appetites and unnatural acts, let my soul burn with fire unrelenting in their face,” he stumbled a little.
Why had she taken him that way? Sodomy, whether by mouth or by anus, was a deeper crime than mere fornication. She had called him “pretty”, had he somehow made himself alluring? Or was this more mindgames of an irredeemable defiler, to shake his faith? Did it count if he had resisted, or was his body’s want a sign he had not?
As if sensing his dilemma, just as those thoughts hit a fever pitch, she appeared again, at his makeshift cell. Flanked by undead guards, his sense of tactics told him she wasn’t completely confident he was bested.
“Crawl out on your hands and knees.”
When he didn’t comply, the Sappers started to chill. He noticed it was slower than the first time, a hint she had some conscious control between a warning shot and a quick drop. He would have to test the speed she could change that effect, but for now, his strength was diminishing, the cold creeping into his bones and his head swam.
“Now, Paladin-whore.”
His options were prone or all fours. Though he felt his consciousness weaken, he stayed in his cell, glaring at her from the floor.
“Hmm, feisty. I guess you like to play hard to get. But, ultimately you know that you are merely delaying the inevitable, right?”
She didn’t walk into the cell, but one of the undead guards did, collecting bowl, bread crust and bucket. She made a little amused “hmm” noise as its clumsy hands pulled at the sheet as well, dragging her weakened captive along with it.
“Baby steps. Put the silly slut up on the slab,” the Necromancer gestured. “He wants to throw a tantrum, but I am feeling indulgent today.”
The sappers left him weak, so weak that he could barely move his limbs. He could do nothing as he was sprawled, naked on his back on the slab, a crude parody of the serene repose of the prior occupant. One leg hung off the edge, his shoulder abraded from being dragged into place.
“Foul woman! You know that the Purifier strengthens my will against you.” He intended it as a sharp rebuke, but it came out as a croak.
“Easy way or hard way, what you want doesn’t matter.”
“But, I have a present for you!” The nubby shape in her hand reminded him vaguely of a mushroom. “I carved it. Just for you, to get that Paladin-hole into pleasing form. And, as for your little display of disobedience, well, until you can follow instructions I simply will remove your ability to do otherwise.”
The means of this proved to be some sort of belt and sleeve set up, draped over the other undead guard. The purpose of this only became clear once she fed his limbs into it, four attachments criss-crossing with leather straps to trap him with his ankles moored to his thigh and his wrists to his shoulders. Any hope of further dexterity was stolen by the attached mitts.
“There now, isn’t that better?” She said in a purr, stepping back. Though her build was lucious and curvy, her willowy waist and swan neck appeared to be matched with a practical level of strength, able to easily manouver his limp weight. “Really, with those sappers you’re no more able to resist than a dead body. But…”
The chill abated, and the healing gifts of the Purifier rushed to restore him. Leather creaked, fighting to break out of the harness. Divine strength or not, his new, stumpy situation meant the Necromancer folded over into helpless giggles, “My… you are so cute! Look at your little legs kicking!”
He thrashed, only to roll himself off the slab completely, landing on the ground at a height enough to knock the wind out of him. The giggles continued with a shrieking cackle, and he rolled, trying to pry himself free against any surface he could reach. Even in this predicament, his cock was back to standing, the one part of him unrestrained.
And yet the straps held, and presently he was panting with exhaustion and rage, while the two guards dragged him back into position, hindquarters up.
“Perhaps you need something else to remind you of your place, Paladin-whore,” she grasped him about the cock and balls, squeezing the root of both. “A plug for that hungry hole. If you had behaved I might have given you a little stroke, but it looks like you simply can’t be relied on yet.”
The controlling encirclement of his manhood was replaced by slippery fingers, followed by a blunt nudge at his hole. The Purifier’s healing had restored some of the prior bruising, but he was still tender, a fact that did not deter her from steady, firm pressure. His hole clenched, fighting the intrusion until she put a bit more of her weight to it, and gradually, painfully, he yielded again.
It hurt, but the traitor part of him stayed hard through the entire thing. The plug was an unignorable presence, nestled inside him, pressing and stimulating.
“Poor Paladin-whore, you are pushing so hard, your face is turning red.” She kept her hand on the base of the plug. “If you push it out without permission, I will take that to mean your greedy hole needs the next size up.”
Her hand smacked down on his ass, getting a yelp from him. “There, that should be enough for today. I doubt you will be getting much rest, but certainly, do contemplate what more will happen if you don’t listen, next time. Leave the plug in, and perhaps I will reward you.”
Woof, it’s good to be writing again. Do you think he’s going to be a good boy now? Or is this only the start of his corruption into her helpless pain slut pet?
Oh my yum! Finally getting caught up and this is delish!