[darkstalker]

warning- this part has some rather brutal torture, so you've been warned.
*****

The air is cold, rushing up her legs. It blows at her soft lips, the cold slipping between them. Clare’s ears burn, the men’s tongues always talking something crude about her vaginal lips, but she concentrates on walking, on not letting the men break her.
She is walking normally even though at first the panties slowed her movement. Eventually she gained enough strength and forced herself to tear them apart so she could move freely, the two ends hanging off her legs. She blocks the tears, trying to ignore the humiliation she’ll endure at coming back without any undergarments. But she knows full well it’ll probably be worse then that, she probably won’t have any stitch at all to speak of when she leaves.
One man is slowly rubbing her vaginal folds, his dirty fingers penetrating her pussy every so often, nails scratching at her internal walls. He moves his hairy chest along her back, drawing her back to his body. “Tell me,” he whispers. “Tell me you want my wet cock in your hips, fucking your tight cunt.”
Her breathing is slow and quiet, her body now becoming more adjusted to the intrusions. His nails bite into her cunt and she winces but says not a word. The crackt across the side of her face surprises her, only partially, but the biting into the left side of her neck makes her scream openly. The worm like creature digs its fangs into her neck from the man’s ear, boring its poison into her body.
“I know how to get a stuck up bitch like you to become more complacent,” says the man. Clare falls to her knees, the stone biting into her legs and she thrashes, trying to liberate her arms, but the poison does its work, weakening her further. Her arms just burn, the manacles biting into her wrist, drawing blood. Soon the poison is in her system and the worm wrenches itself off her neck with a twist, making her howl.
She breathes raggedly, the sweat pouring down her face and the sting burning at her neck. It feels like something is boiling there.
She does not resist when someone grabs her scalp, leaning her neck painfully to the left so they can see the bite mark. She winces as she feels calloused fingers trace over the holes left by the worm. “A little love bite here, no bitch? Don’t worry, you’ll get far worse then this.”
With these words he spits on her face, the spit dribbling down towards her eye, making her blink away the sickly fluid. She shakes her head, her heart hammering, but still her binds hold firm. No matter how much she calls on her yoma energy, it remains dormant.
“Well,” she hears the old man say. “We’re almost at the village. We might as well put the torches out.”
He turns slowly towards her, which makes a shiver run down her spine. “Turn the bitch over and spread her legs apart. We need open access to her channels if we want to shut these off quick.”
“What?” says Clare, not fully realizing what they intend to do. But she struggles all the same as the men lean down, taking her shoulders and throwing her roughly towards the ground. Several hands come down on her, gripping her legs and arms. She manages to kick one in the wrist, but it does little good as another set of hands replaces the first. Soon her legs are being bent over her head, her pussy spread wide and in full view of the men.
“Let me go!” she growls. “Don’t do this!”
But the men all laugh, dipping their fingers in her moist folds and flicking the bud of her clit. “It’s a small fount, boys,” says one of the men. “Think it can really put the fires out?”
“Who cares?” says one man, coming forward with his torch raised high. “She’ll do it anyways!”
And he leans down, the torch flame coming towards her pussy lips quickly. Clare cries, “No! No! No!” but to no avail. The fire hits her sensitive labia and burns arduously as the man thrust it against her pussy and twist the wood in her pits. She hears flesh boil and simmer and a scream rips from her lungs, all the air escaping her. The men all laugh and slowly, as the end of the torch twist in her burned flesh and sizzles with the extinguished flames, it is lifted away from her, the smell of seared flesh and blood hot against her skin clearly visible.
“Not quite as pretty down there now, is she?” says one man.
“No,” says another. “But we’ll give her a chance to heal. After all... we want to use her for more then just this.”
Clare grits her teeth, the tears flowing down her cheeks. These bastards. These... and she sees another torch coming towards her and is already screaming before it even touches her lips. Her flesh is shaking and quivering, the blood flowing hotly into the folds of her skirt as the flames come towards her and then the searing hot fires scald her flesh and boil it. Her howls come out with a monstrous groan.
And the men above her all laugh loudly, licking their lips and enjoying the sight of the woman thrashing beneath their grips. Their god would enjoy this most well indeed.

Somewhere on the mountain top a creature watches through the eyes of his followers and laughs maniacally as each torch is brought down on the woman, disfiguring her most private areas and boiling her alive. His tendrils flick back and forth picking up her screams on the open air and he chuckles darkly thinking on what he will do to her when she comes back up tomorrow, broken and whimpering, begging for mercy. But like his men, he will give no quarter and she will scream and beg for death which he will only give when her body has been thoroughly used and abused. It shivers in anticipation of that event. Shivers and laughs.

*****