Warrior of The Chevaan

Conine

"The Taste of Pain"

'Kill me…' she whispered.

The Roman looked up at her solemnly. Then he laughed.

'Now why would I want to do that, with so many men still eager for a taste of this sweet-meat?' he asked, reaching over and pawing Conine's sticky crotch. 'And all that money riding on how long you hang up there? No, savage, you're going to suffer a long while yet for defying Rome.'

Conine swallowed – or tried to. The strength lent her by Satyra had not eased her terrible thirst in the real world. She knew she had to play up her desperation, and kept her voice soft – pleading. They must believe she was broken for her to succeed. 'Please,' she said again,' I…I'll do…anything…'

'Do you hear that, Tilius,' the guard said, addressing his friend who had come over to see what was happening. 'She'll do anything. The thing is, slut, we can do that to you anyway, all nice and spread out with your big tits and tight little pussy. So you really haven't got much to bargain with.'

Conine seethed at his mocking tone, but kept her voice subservient. She moved to draw down the bar and used the opportunity to shift her hips, groaning. She could see they liked that. She had to entice them with her pain, these sick creatures. 'I can…do things…for…for a man.'

'Come on, Anto,' the man called Tilius said, 'its cold away from the fire.' But Anto had been drawn in by her seductive movement and submissive tone. 'What things?' he asked.

Got you, you filth, she thought. 'Put your…finger…ahhh…put it…inside…inside me…,' Conine husked, the words tasting vile on her tongue.

The man Anto chuckled, stepping over and reaching up to his first two fingers between her swollen labia. The little sob of pain from her as he pushed without gentleness into her sore and battered recess was only half feigned. Masking her loathing, she whispered, 'Deeper.'

'Alright,' Anto replied, flexing the invading digits and pushing further. He could feel himself getting hard as the moist warmth encompassed his finger. With a groan from the prisoner he wiggled in as far as the knuckles. 'Now what?'

Conine's eyes were closed, concentrating. Every part of her railed against playing the whore for these men, but she made herself remember Satyra, bound for some horrible fate but still thinking of her and giving her this chance. She had to succeed. She shifted her hips, tensing her flat, smooth abdomen and ignoring the pain in her feet around the nails. Then she tightened her pelvic muscles…and squeezed.

'Gods!' Anto gasped, feeling the effect.

'What' asked Tilius, 'what did she do?'

'Her quim could choke a man, if he could get his head inside. She can squeeze her cunt like a fist.'

'Horse shit,' Tilius replied.

'Feel for yourself,' Anto said, pulling out of her as Tilius came over and took his place. 'Show him, bitch,' the guard ordered.

Swallowing her anger Conine complied and heard Tilius gasp. 'She's like one of those Phoenician whores you hear of.'

'Only better,' Anto finished. He looked up at Conine. His face was not unhandsome, but his lust was plain.

'Please,' Conine whispered, hating the word, 'I can give you pleasure…give you anything…you desire….just…unnnhhh….' She paused, shifting her weight for effect. 'Just…promise…you'll kill…kill me.'

Anto kept looking up at her, rubbing his chin with its evening shadow. Conine felt Tilius withdraw as he stepped across to his friend. 'Anto,' he said, caution in his voice, 'you know our orders. With only two on guard, we have to stay at the alert. It's a scourging if we're caught not watching.'

'And is it fair Rufio and his detail got to play with her all day, and we miss out because old Gracus takes three cohorts and leaves us short? Think of your cock in that squeezebox, Tilius.'

Conine listened, her mind working. She had wondered why the new guards had not raped her as soon as they arrived; it seemed they had orders to leave her alone to her torment. That could help her, given Anto's obvious frustration, but she needed them both involved to succeed. She coughed. 'Do you…both…' she moaned, head down.

'What?' said Anto, looking up at her as Tilius did like-wise.

'Both…together…' she said, voice full of pain. 'Take you…in my…my bottom…please...anything…' The Romans saw her head drop and heard the sounds of weeping.

Anto turned back to his friend. He was the elder, his helmet off to reveal curling black hair. His face was square jawed and rugged, the sort some women would find appealing in a rough sort of way, with quick, bright eyes. 'You hear that, Tilius,' his face alight with anticipation, 'her ass. Think of what she could do with that tight rump of hers.'

Tilius paused, wavering. As the younger and more concerned with discipline, his face fresher, with hazel eyes now narrowed in uncertainty. He stood taller than Anto, his frame leaner, and the stands of hair visible beneath his helm were a light brown color. His face was narrower, though comely, and now wore a look of extreme discomfort, like a small child's when forced to choose between something desperately desired and obeying the wishes of a stern father. 'You think she can do that with her behind as well?' he said, clearly wavering.

'Gods, man, have you never squeezed out a turd after a long march. Of course she can. And its cherry, by Mars, unspoiled. Hell, if you like you can go in front and I'll sink my own spear in her backside.'

'Alright,' said the younger soldier, the thought of his shaft buried inside that magnificent she-creature overwhelming his caution. 'But I get the back.'

'Done,' said Anto with a nod. 'Now, go move some logs off the fire so it dies down. We don't want any watchers from the walls. Don't fret about the cold, boy; you'll be warming yourself in Celtic wrappings soon enough.'

As Tilius moved to comply, Anto returned to inspecting the prisoner. She raised her head a little and muttered, 'Water.'

The Roman grunted sourly, but saw no sense having the woman fainting halfway from thirst. Grabbing up a skin he stepped up beside her, marveling at the swell of her chest as her leaned against her. 'Brace the bar,' he hissed to Tilius as the other was finishing at the fire. 'We want her to have all her strength when we start.' Tilius nodded and set to work.

Conine again felt the weight of the bar ease, the relentless upward pull abate. Her upper limbs were now held just above the level of he head, elbows bent outward and biceps half-flexed.

Anto smiled, liking the way the position of her arms accentuated the thrust of her hefty tits. He raised the skin to the woman's lips, letting some of the contents slosh forward over her chin. 'Drink,' he murmured.

Conine obeyed, using her mouth to catch some of the fluid. It tasted bitter and she coughed a little, spluttering. 'A little wine as well to keep off the chill,' Anto said. 'Drink.' Conine moved her head again, lapping at the mixture as it ran over her face, trickling down her neck and between the swell of her breasts. After a few seconds Anto stopped. 'Waste not,' he said with a lascivious grin, and bent his head down to nuzzle her cleavage, licking the spilled water from between her breasts. Conine closed her eyes at the feel of his thick tongue.

'Ready,' came Tilius' voice as he stepped into view. With the impatience of youth he had already shed his cuirass, and stood now only in his tunic, sandals, and sword belt.

'Take off your helm and sword, their glint may be seen,' growled Anto, still half suckling the prisoners firm tit, as he loosed his own armor binding one handed.

Once free of the harness he lowered it gently, stooping down and licking the crucified woman's inner thigh, enjoying her little shudder. When he straightened, the bulge beneath his tunic ground against her muscular quadriceps. 'Ready bitch?' he asked, smiling up at her face sitting several inches above his own.'

'Wait,' Conine gasped. 'My legs.'

'What about your legs?' Anto growled, frowning.

'I'll need my legs…to pump with. Take out the nails in my feet.'

Anto looked at her skeptically. 'It's not your legs I favor, sweetmeat, just what's between them.'

'I use my legs to grip with…with my thighs.' As she spoke, Conine kept her voice pleading, husky, her body moving rhythmically against the Roman's as she breathed slowly and deeply. 'If you want me to please both of you together…I need my legs free.'

She could have fired the blood of a eunuch as she hung there, naked but for boots and greaves, a perfectly toned body marked with bruises and cuts but still unspeakably desirable with its long legs, tight belly and tremendous, impossibly firm breasts. Her beautiful face was framed by her thick black hair as she looked down at him with her dark-lashed, crystal-blue eyes. Her red lips parted just slightly as she panted quietly.

'Pass me the tongs,' Anto said finally.

'Anto, no,' Tilius said in a panicked voice. 'If you draw the nails they'll know what we've done. We'd be stoned for releasing a prisoner on the cross.'

'We're not releasing her, just her legs,' Anto replied, 'and we'll put the nails back when we're done. After we've put her out of her misery, of course,' he added as an aside to the tortured woman.

'They'll hear you hammering the nails back in,' Tilius complained.

'Will you quit your whining,' Anto shot back, his patience not helped by the lust churning inside him. 'We'll cover the head of the nails with a rag to muffle the sound, and the points will go in easy enough to the holes already there. Now pass me the bloody tongs.'

Muttering softly Tilius complied, passing his companion the heavy metal tongs from where they had been left by the previous detail, should the prisoner have expired and needed removal from the cross. Anto took them as he stepped down from the frame, kneeling over in front of Conine's punctured feet in their high calfskin boots. 'No screaming now,' Anto said as he looked up at the Celtic Amazon's face from his view between her thighs and breasts, 'or the deal's off.'

Conine set her self, nodding a little. She felt Anto grip her right calf with his off hand, the other hand with the tongs guiding them to the broad flat metal head of the nail flush with the top of her boot.

Fresh pain surged through the warrior woman's body as he began to pry with the tongs, and she arced up on her legs, teeth gritted as a long 'NnnnnnnnNNN!' escaped her throat. Her feet had swollen inside the boots, and the Roman had to dig the jaws of the tongs down into the tortured flesh in order to get a grip on the nail. The spike, however, proved stubborn in being removed. Pulling did no good except to wrench free the tongs and send the guard half sprawling backwards, cursing under his breath.

Regaining his position Anto began again, this time instead of trying to pull the nail out directly twisting it to loosen its grip on the wood.

For Conine the experience was a nightmare, feeling the metal working from side to side inside her badly swollen foot. Bright lightning flashes of agony exploded behind her eyes and she ground her teeth together to keep herself from shrieking.

Just as she was sure she would pass out from the pain, she felt the metal spike give a little. With a sudden jolt it pulled free, blood spurting from the wound in her mangled foot. She gasped and sucked in air, her body slick with perspiration.

'That's one,' Anto grunted, and shifted his stance to begin work on the other foot. Again Conine felt the pain rocketing up her limb and through her body as he gouged her broken skin, sawing the impaling metal back and forth. She could feel the spike gouging at the torn flesh on top of her foot and below in her instep.

Finally the target came free, and the Celt nearly collapsed from the torment, the nails still through her wrists pulling her up painfully before she could fully lose her balance on the crossbar below.

Anto and Tilius looked up at the woman with renewed enthusiasm, her squirming and groaning as the nails were withdrawn having further added to their excitement. Without any regard to letting the beautiful prisoner time to recover from the ordeal Anto mounted the frame, setting one of his legs between the prisoners and leaning against her as she caught her breath.

'Now, my beauty,' he whispered,' time for you to pay up.' He reached down and loosened his breeches one handed, still holding the tongs with his arm against the frame. His manhood was well hard by now and it took a moment to free it from its prison, and he grinned as he felt it jut forth and brush her smooth thigh.

'The tongs,' Conine gasped, feeling his hard body leaning in against her. 'Keep them.'

Anto looked at her in confusion, and then smiled slowly as his mind reached its ugly conclusion. 'Oh-ho,' he gloated. 'So its true, you bitches do enjoy pain. I've always thought as much. You hear Tilius; this will be a rare treat. Very well, by young Celt, I'll accommodate you, but first you must take care of my needs.'

'The boy first,' Conine whispered, her face close to the Roman's. He could feel her breath tickling his cheek. 'He has to go first, so I can hold you both.'

Anto grunted and motioned to the younger soldier to climb behind the prisoner. He did so, having shed his own loin-clothes and knotted the bottom of his tunic so that it only came down to his mid-thigh, his young erection poking upward from beneath the hem. Quickly he reached up and grabbed hold of the side frames of the wood, using them to step up onto the crossbar from behind. The frame leaned back at about 15 degrees from vertical and he had to hang off using one arm to remain in place while with the other he ran his hand over the woman's firm buttocks, feeling clumsily for the cleft of her backside.

Conine felt his awkward probing and winced, moving her ass a little to help him part her cheeks and find his way to her puckered anus.

'I feel her,' Tilius said excitedly, caution forgotten as he felt the female prisoners smooth warm back against his torso and moved his hand around the globes of her sculpted posterior. With a push of his finger he forced the entry of her sphincter, working his index digit up to the first knuckle, then the second. Anto watched and smiled as he saw the pained expression grow on the woman's face as her anus was penetrated, reaching up to grab one of her voluminous breasts and squeeze it gently, kneading the supple flesh. Behind her' Tilius continued to work his finger around, loosening her rear passage for the arrival of his now rock-hard shaft.

'Ah, goddess,' Conine moaned, her voice heavy with desire. 'Yes, now, do it now.' Her eyes were closed and the rise and fall of her breasts had become faster.

'You heard her, Tilius,' Anto urged from in front of her. 'Give her what she wants.'

Trembling with excitement Tilius pulled his finger free, producing a little grunt from the crucified woman, and then used his hand to guide his stiffened phallus between the tight embrace of her ass cheeks. He felt the tight flesh squeezing the head of his cock as he reached her opening, nudging the orifice with his prick-head and moistening it with the juice of his excitement. He leaned close to the woman, his face buried in the black hair falling down the back of her neck, his chest against her shoulder blades. One hand still held onto the frame, the other moved around from her ass and set a firm grip on her right hip, drawing her close to him, her ass mashed up against his pelvis.

With a heave of his hips Tilius pushed forward, his prick bending as it met the resistance of her tight asshole. He made a little headway, then was pushed back. He thrust again, working his hips around, drilling forward with his member, gaining more ground, then pushing again.

Conine bit her lip as she felt his phallus wedging itself inside the entry to her sphincter, fighting her own instincts to resist the intrusion. Knowing that prolonging the experience would only cause her greater pain, and perhaps rupture her internally, she relaxed her ass muscles, moving her hips in sync with the young Romans to help his shaft work its way inside her. Even without her fighting him she found herself gasping in pain as his head finally lodged completely within her anus, the rest of the shaft forcing an entry to the passage.

Despite her accomplished sexual prowess Conine had never taken a man into her rearward orifice before, and the sense of fullness within her bowel left her moaning between clenched teeth. It felt to the spirited Warrior Woman as if a mighty forest oak were being pushed into her minute hole, her organs being pushed aside to accommodate a wholly alien invasion of her body.

Anto watched the look of anguish on the woman's face, feeling her pushed forward against him as Tilius' cock made its way deeper. The younger man eased in and out, widening the shaft. Finally, Anto decided his friend was sufficiently well established for him to begin his own assault. Grasping Conine's hair and pulling her head up to face him, he snarled, 'My turn, slut.'

Conine winced, her blue eyes narrowed, but she nodded. With a heave of her muscular body that left Tilius groaning with pleasure she lifted her left leg up over Anto's hip. The motion opened the crack between her thighs and revealing the pink softness within.

Anto stared down at the warrior's smooth belly as she trembled from the effort, her face buried in her shoulder as fresh pain burned in her wrists. Excitedly he guided his stiffened weapon to the opening beneath her tuft of short black fuzz, moving until he could feel her nether lips pouting either side of his smooth round cock-head. Then without preamble he thrust hard, breaching her in one violent stroke and ramming into her channel.

'AAAaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh.' Conine gasped, experiencing the Roman's length filling her. Behind her the other rapist pushed harder, buggering her now with short, quick thrusts. His motion kept her pelvis pushed forward as Anto ground his loins against hers, burying himself to the hilt inside her body.

'Alright, bitch,' Anto growled, mouth near her ear as she smelled his garlic breath. 'Squeeze.'

Conine felt tears stinger her eyes as she paused, breathing deeply. She wrapped her right leg about Anto's left, pulling him deeper into her, and arched her back a little. With a flex of her abdominals, she applied pressure to the members inside her.

For the Romans, the sensation was beyond pleasure – the divinely warm woman-flesh sheathing them compressed, squeezing their engorged phalluses in an embrace of pure ecstasy. Both men groaned, Anto pressed hard against the crucified beauty and drinking in the contours of her body while Tilius gripped the crossbar and leaned back, lifting his hips and pushing the woman's ass upwards as he impaled her with his tool.

For Conine it was the ultimate degradation of her being; willingly pleasuring the men who had mercilessly raped and tortured her sisters, her lover, and herself.

After a few minutes her efforts began to lose strength as fatigue set in – the vigor granted her by Satyra was fading, the exhaustion of her day long ordeal asserting itself. Her breath cam in ragged gasps and her body slouched between the two guards.

'Keep going bitch,' Anto growled, fucking her hard. 'Don't you dare stop now.'

Conine tried to rally, but the men felt her body becoming slack, unresponsive. Tilius still felt the tightness of her ass around his shaft but Anto could sense her flagging. He lifted the tongs he still in one hand, using the other to steady himself against her shoulder. 'I said keep going, cunt!' he hissed, and jabbed the pincers cruelly into the sparse flesh of her waist, digging the metal in painfully and squeezing hard.

The sharp pain revived the warrior woman instantly, her head coming up with her lips parted. Anto moved his free hand and slapped his palm over her mouth, stifling her cry. She looked at him from over the tip of his hand, seeing the manic fervor in his eyes. 'No screaming, whore, or you'll hand on this wood until the crows peck out your eyes. You hear me?'

Still meeting his eyes she nodded slightly. Anto smiled and grabbed Tilius from over her shoulder. 'Stop their lad; this Celtic slut is going to do the rest of the work for us.'

Reluctantly Tilius obeyed – he had been close to his climax and the woman on the cross felt unbelievably good, her powerful body reacting superbly to his member up her ass. He shifted his weight and hung off the back of the frame, one hand reaching around and fondling her full breast.

'Now, whore, beg me to use these on you, and when I do, you use that body of yours to squeeze the cum right our of the boy and me.'

Conine swallowed, allowing her eyes showing the horror of her situation for the first time. He wanted her to beg to be hurt – her every sense rebelled. 'Do it, ' he snarled, 'or I'll cut out your pretty tongue and you can hang here 'til you rot.'

Wetting her lips Conine breathed deeply. Her body was pinioned between their two members, and she could feel them stiff and hard inside her. 'Hurt me.' She said finally.

He did, the pincers digging hard, and she stifled a cry and used the pain to bear down on the men's cocks in her ass and pussy. When he eased off, she slumped, gasping.

'More,' Anto leered, utterly enthralled by her enslavement. 'Beg me to use them on your tits.'

'Please…' she half sobbed

'Do as he says,' Tilius hissed in her ear, carried away by the moment, his young face twisted with passion. He squeezed the breast in his hand so hard the crown stood out as firm as marble, the nipple erect. 'Or every man in this fort will fuck your ass before you die.'

With a whimper Conine lifted her self a little, meeting Anto's eyes. 'Hurt my breasts,' she said brokenly.

'More,' Anto demanded, grinning like a ghoul.

Anger flared in the young woman, and her voice was thick with it. 'Hurt my tits with those pincers; is that what you want to hear, you sick filth. Put them on my breasts and squeeze until I bleed, you disgusting, perverted fuck!'

'At your command,' Anto said sarcastically, and lifted the tongs to the boob trapped in Tilius grasp.

Next moment Conine felt pain like a dagger rip though the mammary as the metal clamps bit savagely into the tender underside of her breast. She clenched her teeth and moaned, clamping her muscles down hard on the men while they hurt her. When the pressure eased, she slouched, only to have the process repeated at the side of the abused orb. She shook her had form side to side and bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. When the pain stopped again her head fell back, her face next to the young Roman's behind her. Looking at her in the moonlight Tilius was hypnotized by her savage beauty, made more radiant by her pain. In his young mind the _expression on her face was of rapture at his prowess. She wanted this, wanted him.

'Please,' she sobbed, 'please, it hurts so much.' Both she and Tilius could feel Anto moving again, pumping gently. 'Please, Tilius,' she whispered.

He stared at her open mouthed, transported by her helplessness. He owned her now. He felt Anto moving the tongs toward the peak of her breast as her lips brushed against his chin. 'Kiss me,' she husked. 'Oh Goddess, let me scream into your mouth…'

'Do it, boy,' smirked Anto from in front, listening as he positioned the tongs for the helpless woman's ultimate torment. 'Taste her pain.'

Tilius swallowed and dipped his head forward, moving around under the crossbeam so that he was leaning over her shoulder as her face turned to him. Their lips brushed lightly, and he felt a surge run through his body. He kissed her harder, feeling her respond in kind, her lips parting as their tongues met and lapped at each other with fierce urgency. He felt his prick practically bursting and thrust forcefully once, twice.

The metal jaws of the tongs pressed down on either side of Conine's erect nipple and clamped together.

Conine screamed, her whole body shaking in agony as her anguished shriek flowed into Tilius mouth as the young soldier kissed her with fierce lust. As the muscles of her athletic body spasmed uncontrollably Tilius gave a gurgling cry of his own as the pressure on his member brought him to a shattering climax. In front Anto slammed his meat into her again and again, rushing to his own culmination as he watched her writhe with her nubbin being crushed by the tongs.

That was when everything went horribly wrong for the two Romans.

As she shook and bucked on the frame Conine moved back, bringing Tilius' head further round over her shoulder. With a sudden deft move she shifted her weight, hauling down on the crossbar and trapping his throat between her powerful shoulder and the hard wood of the crossbeam. A twist and a wrench, and the young Roman's neck snapped with a sound like a wet branch, his final cry stifled by his crushed windpipe. The soldier toppled backwards, his erect penis bursting free of the Celt's anus and showering her back with the fluids of his final ecstasy as he fell to the ground.

At the front of the rape Anto had only a second to realize through the haze of his pleasure what had transpired before Conine's legs had whipped up and locked around his lower ribs, squeezing him in a vice like grip just as he opened his mouth to gasp towards his orgasm. The air was driven from his lungs brutally by the muscular thighs. His eyes grew wide in fear, but before he could act Conine had used her legs to lift him and pull him closer, her head arcing back and then snapping forward to smash his nose to a bloody pulp. He gave a stifled cry with what little breath remained to him, only prevented from falling by the warrior woman's legs still holding him in a python-like embrace.

'Now, you sack of filth,' Conine growled as the stunned Roman looked up at her in terror. He was transfixed by the burning savagery in those beautiful blue eyes. 'It's your turn to taste my pain. If you don't want your last sight in this life will be my teeth ripping out your throat while I crush your heart to jelly, take those tongs off me and do exactly as I say.'  

 

It was only several hours later as the sky began to lighten towards morning that the guards on the wall of the fortress sounded any alarm.

By the time the Centurion led a detail out to the execution hill, it was almost dawn. The soldiers made their way up quickly, only to slow to a stunned shuffle as they came up to the crest.

Tilius lay on his back, face to the sky, neck broken, his face frozen in an expression of surprise and delight while his still rigid penis pointed towards the brightening sky.

Anto's fate had been far less gentle.

The elder soldier hung on the crucifixion frame, bound by ropes but not nailed. Despite that seeming kindness his fate was awful to behold. The frame had been set for a taller victim, and whoever had strung up Anto had not bothered to tether him to the cross base of the frame. At least, not by his legs.

A thin leather strip made from the straps of sandals had been strung fro the middle of the base to Anto's genitals, passing in a loop about the base of his phallus and around behind his scrotum. With no way to hold himself against the upward pull of the weighted bar the soldier had been hauled up, tightening the noose around his privates.

When they cut the barely living Anto down the noose had narrowed to barely an inch across, his penis and balls horribly swollen and black from lack of circulation. A ragged gag had been tied around his mouth and the blood from the corners of his mouth gave evidence of the terrible agony the victim had suffered before he finally lost consciousness.

The Centurion looked about as the soldiers got Anto down. Tracks of a stumbling, barefoot individual led down the hill, heading towards the dark wild forests of the north.

The veteran of Rome sniffed. He felt no pity for the two guards stupid enough to allow themselves to be so humiliated, and neither did he feel any hurry in pursuing the escaped prisoner.

'Run my beauty,' he said to the distant horizon. 'If the stories I've heard of those woods are true, you may soon wish you'd stayed on the cross.'  

 

This ends the first part of the story of Conine, Warrior of the Chevaan.

The further adventures of Conine the Warrior Woman will be told in the upcoming Ranger of the Chevaan.

Meanwhile the story of Satyra, and the other Celtic women, after their transport from the fortress of Gracus towards distant Rome will be chronicled in Underworld of the Chevaan and Gladiatrix of the Chevaan.