BLOODSKYE

BY LIRCROWFALL

Skye’s eyes flew open, the nightmare startling her awake. In the dream, she’d been walking down an alley in Marrakesh looking for her contact when something sharp pricked her leg. She looked down and a small dart stuck from her 11-year-old thigh. Another prick touched her back; another, her arm. Before she could react, the drug was coursing through her veins, her vision was beginning to blur, and a dozen robed men surrounded her. Then she woke up.

She tried to roll over, to ease an aching in her shoulders, and realised she couldn’t. From near her hands, metal clanked. She gave a jerk with both arms and pain shot through her body.

That had been no dream.

BloodSkye, the 11-year-old younger sister of the Brimstone Society's top agent, BloodRayne, was chained, spread-eagled, to a slant rack. She could tell by the coolness on her skin that she was completely naked except for the steel -- maybe even titanium, she wasn’t sure -- shackles on her wrists and ankles and a similar, no doubt matching, collar around her neck.

Skye wasn’t sure who the men in the robes were, or what they wanted, but she had no intention of finding out -- at least not this way. She relaxed, gathered all of her half-vampire strength, and pulled hard on all four chains that were pinioning her to the rack.

Nothing happened. I’ve been bled, she thought, and for the first time was scared. Whoever captured her had known where she would be and at what time. They knew exactly which drug would swim through her half-vampire veins and knock her out. And, most frighteningly of all, they knew that if they bled her just the right amount, she would be fully conscious yet physically weakened.

A bolt turned somewhere off to her left, and a door creaked on ancient hinges. The footsteps of several people entered the room.

A man’s voice spoke something in a language Skye had never heard, and the room was bathed in a deep gloomy light. Skye looked around. She was in an old-fashioned, medieval-style dungeon. Off to her left, a door stood open, though whatever was beyond was dark. To her right, she gasped slightly as she saw a young girl, no older than 9, standing, naked, in a narrow cage that hung from the ceiling.

“That is Teilsche,” the man’s voice said. “She was my newest slave girl -- until today.”

“She'll be your last,” Skye said. She gave another jerk on the chains that were keeping her spread-eagled on the rack, and felt a sharp pain in her wrists and ankles, and then blood trickled down her arms.

The man laughed. “I simply call those, ‘pain shackles,’” he said. “They are polished steel, crafted to fit a little too snugly around your wrists, ankles and neck, Skye. Each shackle is lined with dozens of sharp steel spikes that dig in to your soft, white preteen skin whenever you move.”

“Is that how you bled me?”

“No, but it is an effective method of adding extra humiliation to your situation.”

Skye looked at her captors. The man was tall, almost 6-feet, 6-inches tall. He wore black leather boots and a black leather belt. From the belt hung a coiled black bullwhip. The only article of actual clothing he had on was a white silk loin cloth.

A woman accompanied him, although on closer inspection, Skye realised that “woman” was an overestimate of her age. She couldn’t have been a day over 16, and was possibly younger. She wore a skin-tight, black latex cat suit over her athletic body. A silver metal belt hung around her waist, and dangling from her left hip was a nasty, barbed cat-o-nine tails.

“This is my daughter, Darlak, and I am Harun al-Rashid,” the man said.

Skye knew she was in trouble.

Harun al-Rashid was at the top of the Brimstone Society’s list of most wanted -- dead or alive -- scumbags, though there was little chance they would ever catch him. He was a Djinnayah, an ancient race of magicians, and he was their unquestioned leader. Some said Djinnayah were demons, created before humans or vampires walked the earth.

“I can see by your reaction that you have heard of me, though you are unlikely to know why I have brought you here,” al-Rashid said. “The answer is simple: I like to torture little girls. I like to turn them into begging cock slaves. I long to live in a world where all little girls are merely sexual animals who worship my cock and obey my every word, where they know their place in the universe -- and their place, of course, is on their knees at my feet.

“Now, being as i have certain ... powers, I can, of course, kidnap all the little girls I want. However, I find that human girls are so fragile. They don’t last more than a couple of days in my possession. That is why, two years ago, I decided to try to collect immortal, or at least supernatural, little girls. In addition to Teilsche over there -- she was a fairy princess, now she is merely a pain whore -- I have collected a wood nymph and a were-cat. And now, of course, the famous Brimstone Society assassin, BloodSkye.”

“I know two wrongs don’t make a right, but I am still going to kill you slowly,” Skye said.

Al-Rashid laughed. “We like them spirited, don’t we, Darlak?”

The teenage girl at his elbow just purred. Where al-Rashid was cold and calculating, a scientist of punishment collecting specimens for his dungeon, his daughter was all fire and passion. She looked at Skye, spread-eagled on a rack in the dungeon, and made no attempt to hide the hunger in her eyes. This was an immortal -- and quite beautiful, Skye had to admit -- lesbian lolita sadist.

Al-Rashid waved his hand, and the chains holding Skye’s 11-year-old body in place pulled tighter, drawing her taught over the surface of the steel slant rack. He waved again, and a series of spikes pushed upward from the centre of the rack, forcing Skye to arch her back and thrust her naked pelvis forward. She tensed, held in that position, all her weight on her heels and the backs of her wrists.

Al-Rashid and Darlak unbuckled their whips from their belts, and Skye almost laughed. Sure, it would hurt, but leather whips, even vicious ones like those that could kill a human girl, would never seriously injure the half-vampire preteen Skye.

Each of the tormenters spoke a word that Skye didn’t understand, and their whips blazed to light. Fire crackled along the tendrils and licked from the tips of the instruments of torture.

“You didn’t think we’d torture a supernatural sex slave with ordinary whips, did you?” Darlak said. Her voice was mostly purr, all feline and ravenous.

“Were you on this rack before you got too old for daddy?” Skye said.

Darlak just smiled. “We are going to have so much fun breaking you, Skye,” she said.

Skye’s captors raised their whips of fire high over their heads and simultaneously brought the tendrils of flame down on her 11-year-old body. She didn’t want to scream, but fire was a bit much for a half-vampire, half-human little girl, so she screamed, loud and long.

AAARRRRGGGHHH!!

She wanted to look her tormentors in the face, but within moments was thrashing and flailing in her chains, her little body lashed repeatedly with whips of fire. The spikes in her shackles and the spikes sticking up into her back were covered in trickling blood and sweat within minutes.

The whips made a whooshing and then a crackling sound as they arched through the air. They snapped against her preteen body with the force of hurricanes. They left deep, red welts on her white, smooth skin. She could smell her own singed flesh as the torture wore on. Skye didn’t want to scream, but even she couldn’t help it under their assault.

WWWHHHHPPPSSSSHHH!!!

AARRGGHH!!

WWWWHHHHPPPPSSSHHHHH!!!!

NNNEEERRRRRRAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!

She tried to keep track of how many strokes they gave her, just to spite them later by having paid attention through the punishment, but she lost count after 100. After about two hours of torture, the two stopped. Skye’s tiny body was covered in sweat, blood and welts. She breathed heavily, heaving, trying to stay conscious.

Al-Rashid walked over to a coal brazier burning in a corner of the room, and extracted a long, red-hot metal rod, about two inches wide, a half-inch thick and 10 inches long.

“You know where this is going, don’t you?” he said. She braced herself for the inevitable pain, every muscle in her superhuman, preteen body tensing and quivering as her tormentor brought the glowing red implement over to where she lay, spread-eagled on the rack. She was aware of the spikes in her shackles digging further into her flesh, of the breathing of the fairy girl hanging in the cage, of the desire of Darlak as she watched her father work. He held the rod just above her protruding pelvis, drew his arm back, and plunged the superheated metal into her hairless vagina.

Skye screamed, abandoning all pretence of toughness, of pride. She merely screamed and bucked in her chains because the pain was that great. There was a hissing sound as Al-Rashid turned the steaming implement inside her, twisting it so that every square inch of her soft, pink insides were burned before he slowly extracted the glowing steel. She continued to scream, though she was hardly aware of it. She hovered at he edge of consciousness. The pain was too much even for her half-immortal little girl body. Through the haze of smoke and painful fire, she saw Darlak holding another red-hot metal rod. Darlak knelt in front of Skye, reached down with the glowing lance, and shoved the molten stick into Skye’s anus.

Skye had the sensation of lava filling her entire body, and then she blacked out.

***

She awoke in a cage that was barely big enough for her to prop herself up on one elbow. Next to her was a tiny bowl of blood. It smelled human and fresh. She lifted it to her lips, and then thought better of it. Since joining the Brimstone Society, Skye, like her older sister, had sworn off human blood.

“You should drink it. It will keep your strength up.”

In a cage a few feet away was the 9-year-old captured fairy princes.

“They may have broken you, girl, but I won’t fall that easily,” Skye said.

“The person that came from is dead anyway. And don’t assume that I’m broken because I am trying to keep you alive long enough to help me escape.”

Skye turned her head to look at the girl, and every inch of her skin burned from the flogging she’d gotten. The skin of her hairless pussy lips rubbed against each other, and she tensed into a foetal ball with the pain from the burning she’d received to her most sensitive parts. She could feel her insides and skin beginning to heal already, despite the severity of the torture she’d received.

The fairy princess -- Teilsche, al-Rashid had called her -- was a cute little thing, Skye had to admit. She looked no older than a 9-year-old human, but with bright purple eyes. Her jet-black hair was cropped just at her jaw line.

“If you are a fairy princess, where are your wings?” Skye asked.

The girl rolled over, and she made Skye gasp for the second time.

Two bloody, oozing stumps protruded from the centre of Teilsche’s back. This girl actually did have wings, but someone had ripped them off and never treated the wounds.

“A fairy’s magic comes from her wings,” Teilsche said. “They cut mine off to keep me from being able to cast any spells.”

“I’m sorry,” Skye said.

The girl half-smiled. “It’s actually less painful than when I first got here, and they nailed my wings to a board with iron spikes.”

“How long have you been here?” Skye asked.

“I don’t know,” Teilsche said. “I tried to keep track, but I lost count after what seemed like six months.”

“How long was I out?”

“A day or so. No more than two,” Teilsche said, and Skye groaned.

***

Two days later, Skye found herself chained to the same slant rack. Tight alligator clips bit down on her nipples and clitoris. Wires extended from the clips to a large, gasoline-powered generator off to the side of the room. A copper rod was shoved up her ass, and she guessed that this too was attached to the generator. Al-Rashid sat on a throne about 10 feet away, a panel with switches and dials by his side.

“I would have thought electricity was somehow not creative enough for you, al-Rashid,” Skye said, still defiant.

Her captor laughed. “I have no reason to shun innovative technology, Skye.”

A young girl, in appearance no older than 7, knelt in front of him, sucking on his cock. The girl’s wrists were shackled behind her back with thick leather cuffs, and a thick leather studded collar was around her neck. Her long brown hair was pulled up into two pig tails. She wore a type of thick leather chastity belt, with two wires sticking out of it. They too were attached to the panel next to him.

“This is the wood nymph I told you I’d captured. Her name today is slut. It changes with my moods. She is going to worship her master’s cock while I torture you. She will, all the while, receive minor electric shocks and waves of pleasure from the twin vibrators sticking into her body.

“You, my dear Skye, are not getting any ‘minor’ shocks. We’ll start with 100 volts for five minutes, and go up from there.”

Two hours later, her blood-red hair and creamy white body were drenched with sweat and she was hoarse from screaming. During one moment of lucidity in between shocks she heard the little nymph’s muffled scream as the girl must have either cum or gotten a particularly nasty jolt while al-Rashid’s cock was still in her mouth.

Skye lasted two more hours after that before passing out.

***

Several days later, Skye and Tailsche were chained up next to each other in a room Skye hadn’t yet seen. Her pussy and ass had nearly healed fully from the hot irons they’d endured on her first day in the dungeon, nearly a week ago. The two girls were about 10 feet apart, arms high up over their heads, feet on the ground but spread wide with spreader bars. Blood trickled down Skye’s arms from the spiked shackles she wore on her wrists. She could feel blood oozing down her neck as well from her spiked collar.

A steel door stood in front of them. Tremendous banging and a sloshing sound came from behind it.

“What is in there?” Skye asked.

“The worst torture,” Teilsche said. The girl was sobbing, silently, tears running down her cheeks. Skye had expected to see her wings growing back by now, but they weren’t. She didn’t want to think about what that meant. “They are tentacle monsters. Huge, horrible, with nine tentacles each. They will not stop until each of the nine tentacles has cum in our mouths, vaginas and anuses.”

“It sounds disgusting, but at least not as painful as the electricity,” Skye said.

“Their cum is acid.”

“Oh,” Skye said.

“The acid isn’t strong enough to eat completely through the walls of our throats or pussies, but the burning pain from them does not go away, not for days, sometimes weeks,” Teilsche said. She started breathing heavily, panicking in her chains, pulling on them with every muscle in her little girl’s lithe, tanned fairy body.

It was no use.

The creatures behind the door, meanwhile, had reached a crescendo of banging and oozing sounds. They seemed to sense the two helpless little naked girls chained up just a few feet away.

The door swung silently open.

Two creatures, each about 8 feet tall, advanced on the girls. Neither monster walked, they more slithered across the dungeon floor. Their fleshy, amorphous bodies protruded nine large tentacles. Each tentacle was six feet long and tipped by a penis-like member that was three inches in diameter. A stench of rotting flesh filled the chamber.

The tentacle rape went on for six hours.

In the end, Skye had never felt so violated, so filthy. Each of her orifices had been used nine times, filled with a burning acid, raped with slime and ooze and muck that should never have been part of this world. She looked across the dungeon floor to where Teilsche lay in her cage, covered with green slime and unconscious, and for the first time, Skye thought of giving in, of becoming al-Rashid’s plaything, if only he would spare her from meeting the tentacle creatures again.

***

The familiar slant rack. The familiar darkness. The familiar creek of a door swinging open nearby. Then Darlak, wearing only an enormous steel, spike-tipped strap-on dildo standing in front of her. Teilsche, wearing a rubber knobby dildo, standing behind Darlak. Skye lifted her head, stared at her torturer. It had been two weeks now since Skye had fed properly, two weeks of incessant, inhuman sexual torture, of tentacles and ooze and fire whips and electricity and white-hot metal and drills that went all the way down to her bone. Two weeks of feeding on only the most meagre portions of blood. If al-Rashid had walked in that door, Skye might have given up, have begun to crack. But she was not going to be broken by this teenage slut and her dildo.

“Daddy’s away for a couple of days, which means you’re all mine,” Darlak said. She pushed a button on the belt which held the strap-on, and a series of razors and barbs protruded with a click from all along the shaft.

Darlak mounted Skye. The cold steel with its serrations and blades ground into Skye’s hairless pussy. Skye was unable to do anything about it except clench her teeth and muscles in agony. She felt added weight and looked up to see Teilsche mounting Darlak from behind.

Ah, so that was the teenager’s game. She wanted to give and to get. Well, thought Skye, I’ll give her all she can take. Skye began to thrust in rhythm to to her tormentor’s thrusts, making sure the spiked dildo slid as deep as possible into her pussy. Darlak made sure to stay upright, to keep her neck far from Skye’s teeth.

But then Skye saw something shimmer from just behind Darlak. Teilsche seemed to become something more than she had. Wings now stretched out to both sides of the little fairy girl’s body, and light glowed from their edges. Teilsche looked down at Skye, mouthed the word “Now!” and shoved Darlak with all her strength down on top of Skye.

Darlak had been so into the rape that she had no idea what was happening at first. When she finally did realise it, her neck was centimetres from Skye’s teeth.

And then fangs met neck. Darlak tried to pull away, but hunger proved stronger than fear.

Skye drank deeply, filling her starved little body with not only blood, but the blood of a Djinnayah, a magical creature, one with a life-force stronger than anything Skye had ever tasted. She broke her chains without even realising it; they simply snapped like string as she enveloped Darlak in a dark embrace. Skye pulled away at the last minute and stared into Darlak’s defeated, frightened eyes.

“Sorry I’m not keeping my word to kill you slowly,” she said. Skye pulled the spiked steel dildo out of her pussy, and in her intoxicated state barely felt the metal slicing against her flesh as it was extracted.

“Open wide.”

Darlak tried to keep her mouth closed, but was too weak to resist. Skye heard the wrenching of teeth torn from their roots as she drove the shaft into Darlak’s mouth. Then she leaned in and finished the teenager off.

Strength and magic and eternity itself coursed through her veins. She ripped her collar and shackles away, then did the same for Teilsche.

“How did you ...?”

“The first magic a fairy learns is illusion,” Teilsche said. “I’ve been concealing my wings for months, hoping I would get an opportunity. Then you came along.” She reached up and touched Skye on the chin where a trickle of Darlak’s blood had drizzled from Skye’s mouth. Teilsche wiped the blood away and then licked it from her finger. “Let’s free the other girls and get out of here,” she said.

“One thing to do first,” Skye said, and she headed for the tentacle monsters’ lair. Outside it hung the wood nymph whom Skye had seen sucking al-Rashid’s cock one day and a girl she had never seen who must have been the were-cat al-Rashid boasted he’d captured. She was no older than 7, and had a long, furry tail and pointy ears. Otherwise, she looked human. Both of the poor 7-year-old immortal girls had been crying in anticipation of when the door opened and the monsters came out. Both of their taught bodies were streaked with fresh whip marks from a lashing the day before.

Teilsche and Skye got the two girls down, and then gathered all the gasoline from the electricity generator and anything else combustible they could find. They poured the flammable materials into the creatures’ cell through bars at the top of the door. Teilsche cupped her hands, and a small blue flame burned just above her palm. She chanted something and then threw the little ball of flame into the cell, and all four girls ran from the commotion of flames and the death spasms of the monsters.

Once outside, they found themselves outside old Marrakesh at nightfall, the city and its heaving market spread out in a valley below them. Teilsche reached out and took Skye’s hand, squeezed it and then leaned her head on Skye’s shoulder.

“I usually work alone,” Skye said.

Teilsche ran her fingertips up and down Skye’s chest in between her smooth, preteen breasts.

“But some company will be nice for awhile,” Skye said. The were-cat and wood nymph were huddling together in their own embrace.

“Come on,” Teilsche said. “If I take us, we can reach my family’s grove before sunrise. We are going to need some rest if we are going to hunt al-Rashid.”

“First, I’m going to raid Darlak’s wardrobe,” Skye said.