Prisoner of Lust Pt. 01

Bad Things Happening to Elves

WARNING: This is a dark and unhappy story, a work of niche fantasy. I want there to be no misunderstanding upfront.

If that sounds like something you don't want to read, please don't read this story. I'm not out to shock or offend anyone. I'm just catering to my audience.

But if you're the type to get offended anyway, don't worry, everything's alright in the end. I follow the rules.

You have been warned.

*****

Prisoner of Lust

The human city was massive and crowded and loud, so much bigger and busier than she had ever imagined, and Leara was stunned. It was nothing like the elven village she'd grown up in deep in the forest, nor like any of the scant few neighboring villages that she'd ever visited. She could see now why her friends and family had warned her against coming here, told her to just stay at home and forget what they called her "foolish notion" to see more of the world. Truth be told, all the activity and towering buildings were every bit as intimidating as they'd made them out to be.

Still, she thought, she could get used to it. She'd traveled more than anyone else in her village already, after all, and been uneasy in most new places she'd ended up at first before the unease gave way to enjoyment. This would be no different, she reasoned. All she needed do was meet a few people, get in touch with the local culture, and all of her worries and fears would be forgotten.

It was in the market that she first felt like someone was watching her, and paused to look around. People jostled by her on all sides, many of them turning to look at her in curiosity or slight contempt. Her elven features made her stand out all the more and draw even more curious eyes — long, slender ears pointing out from her waist-length curtain of hair the color of honeyed wheat; large, slightly canted eyes colored a vibrant emerald green that contrasted with the dull brown of most of the area's humans; and a soft, angular face that tapered down from high cheeks to a small, slender chin. Her pale pink skin was flawless, and though her short dress and long stockings covered plenty of her body to retain her modesty, her outfit also hugged her every sumptuous curve and left little to the imagination.

Clutching her meager pack tight to her chest, Leara made her way through the flowing crowd out of the market and towards the less crowded streets beyond. Likely the feeling was just her getting used to city crowds, she reasoned. She had been to a couple of small human hamlets on the edge of the woodlands before, yes, but never a city this big before now, and she was not used to the amount of eyes constantly on her. It was only natural to feel as if she were being watched, because she was — but so far, nobody had seemed overly concerned beyond a brief curiosity, so she tried to ignore the feeling and not let it bother her.

She was still ignoring the feeling as she turned from a narrow side street into a gloomy alley between two large buildings. Her unease was intensifying, but she fought it down with a will, chiding herself for her needless anxiety. Nevertheless, the sun was going down, and she had lost track of where she was. She needed a moment out of the bustle to get her bearings, so she strode down to the center of the alley, furthest away from any passersby, before opening her satchel and pulling out her map.

No sooner had she stopped than she felt rough hands grab her from behind and shove her forward against the alley wall. Her startled cry came out as more of a short, high squeak as she dropped map and satchel both before being flattened against the building in front of her, and her mind remained frozen in sudden terror and confusion as she felt her assailant grab her dress and pull it up over the swell of her bottom. She tried to cry out again, but then she felt the full weight of a grown man's body press against her back, pinning her tight to the wall and momentarily knocking the air from her. As she gasped and struggled, the man took hold of her panties beneath her dress. With one hard yank, the soft, fragile fabric tore away in his grip. The next moment, she felt the head of his manhood press against her exposed slit, and then he forced himself roughly into her and pierced her deep.

She finally did cry out then, in pain and anguish. It was all happening so fast — one moment she had been just another lost visitor amid a sea of people going about their business, and now she was being brutally violated in a back alley by a rough stranger whose face she couldn't even see. He held her crushed against the wall, one hand firm against her head and pressing the side of her face against the hard stone, the other gripping her waist tight as he pounded into her from behind. Tears welled in her eyes as she struggled and screamed, the pain of her unmerciful rape exacerbated by her tight, inexperienced pussy. She had been pure up until that moment, and she had never in her darkest nightmares imagined that her maidenhood would finally be torn from her in such a brutal manner.

"Help!" she managed to cry as her assailant pounded her into the wall again and again, filling her so much that her body screamed in protest at every thrust. "Stop! Someone please help!"

That was as much as she was able to get out before a sudden slap across her face silenced her words and left her sobbing aloud with every crude pump of her attacker's hips. She tried to struggle against him, but under his weight and in her awkward position, she could do nothing but flail her hands against the wall. She tried to kick out at him, but the motion only spread her wider for his invading cock and made the pain that much worse, so she soon abandoned any hope of breaking away and instead hoped fervently for a sudden rescue.

"Hey, you!" a voice shouted suddenly from somewhere in the streets behind her. "Stop!"

The man raping her loosed a strangled groan of lust and irritation, pulling his throbbing shaft from her fully just as he finally came. Leara felt hot, thick liquid splash across her backside, and then the man's weight was off of her, his heavy footfalls fading frantically as he dashed off away from the accusing voice.

The elven woman slid to the cobbled street down the wall, disbelief, revulsion, and gratitude warring for dominance within her. Her assault was over as quickly as it had begun, and though she was still in shock and pain, she couldn't help a twinge of happiness that her silent, fervent wish had apparently gone answered.

The guardsman entered the alley mouth at a run, then slowed to a halt as he reached the woman. Leara lay curled over her knees on the ground, her hair and clothes disheveled, panting heavily. Her ravaged slit dripped slightly with the blood of her violently pierced hymen, and her rapist's seed oozed thickly down her bare bottom down to her thighs. She turned to look at the guard that had come to her rescue, eyes still wide, and managed a slight, wavering smile. "Thank you," she breathed in relief.

The guard's eyes scanned the scene, then fixed her with a stern look. "What's going on here, then?" he demanded.

It was a more brusque rescue than she would have liked, but she wasn't about to be picky. "I was...attacked," she explained, her voice slight and wavering. "R-raped. It happened so suddenly...I didn't see his face..." The more she spoke, the more the reality of the situation settled on her, and her brimming tears spilled over once more down her cheeks.

The guard folded his arms over his chest, fingers tapping slowly on his elbow as he looked hard at her for a silent moment. "Were you now?" he said at last, voice pitched strangely low. "A likely story. Alright, get up. You're coming with me."

"I...I am?" she asked quietly, brow furrowing. "Why are...where are we going?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped toward her and bent down, taking her by the hand. She let him pull her to her feet, standing unsteadily on still-shaky legs. Rather than release her, though, the guard stepped around behind her, still holding her wrist and grabbing the other one. "You're an elf, huh?" he said behind her as he reached down and pulled something from his belt. "Must be new in town, otherwise you'd know. Still, ignorance don't excuse nothing."

"What?" she asked, then felt the cold, tight press of metal as the guard clamped her wrists in shackles behind her back. "What?" she asked again, panic growing again. "Wait! What's going on?"

"Prostitution is illegal here, elf," the guard said, then put a hand between her shoulder blades and shoved. "Now move it."

Leara stumbled forward and fell to her knees, her mind uncomprehending for a moment. "But I..." she whispered as her building hope crashed back down and dashed once more.

The guard grabbed her arm and yanked her back up to her feet. "I said move it, whore," he said more menacingly, shoving her again.

She managed to stay on her feet this time, then whirled to face the guard, panic and confusion evident on her face. "But I'm not!" she cried, astounded that she even had to argue such an accusation so shortly after being clearly raped. "I wasn't! I told you, I was assaulted! I swear! I'm not a prostitute! I didn't want it!"

The guard took another step toward her, then smacked her across the face so hard she saw stars for a moment. "The more you fight the law, whore, the harder the law will be on you," he said coldly. "Now you can either walk with me to the station like a good elf, or I can gag you and shackle your ankles and drag you there through the streets. What's it gonna be?"

She stared up into his eyes for several long seconds, searching for any trace of pity, of mercy, hoping beyond reason that this was all just some twisted joke that would end soon. But she saw no warmth or tenderness in his eyes, and so cast her own down to the ground, where she saw drops of white cum and her own maiden's blood beneath her feet. "...Very well," she said quietly. "I'll go quietly. And I'll explain when we get there how this is all a terrible mistake."

The guard's lips pulled back in what was almost a smirk. "You're welcome to try," he said as he took her by the arm and led her out of the alleyway, leaving her map and the small sack of all of her belongings behind in the gutter.

***

The walk through town to the jailhouse was the most embarrassing moment of Leara's life up to that point. Before, the townspeople had merely eyed her in curiosity before turning away; now they all stared openly as she passed, many in revulsion and incredulous disdain, many more in open lust with sleazy grins that made her skin crawl. She couldn't decide which was worse. She only knew that the force march through town, her bare ass exposed and splattered with her rapist's seed, her virgin's blood drying on her shaky legs, seemed to last forever.

Then at last her arresting officer stopped her in front of a large stone building with few windows, all of them heavily barred, and she sighed in relief. At least her troubles would be over soon, she thought. She would explain the misunderstanding to the guard's commanding officer, and they would free her to focus instead on finding her attacker and bringing him to justice.

That hope wavered a bit, however, when she entered the jailhouse with her guard in tow and was marched to the Watch Captain's office. He was an older man, grizzled, his close-cropped black hair shot through with gray, and as he turned the same look of contempt upon her that she'd seen in the guard escorting her, she felt another surge of panic in the pit of her stomach.

"And what's this, then?" the Captain asked as he stepped around his desk and took her face in his black-gloved hand, looking down at her with cold eyes. "An elf, huh? What'd she do?"

"Arrested her for prostitution, sir," the guard at her side explained with a salute. "Caught her fornicating with a local in a side street in broad daylight."

"Disgusting," the Captain replied, though the look on his face was not one of disgust. In fact, thought Leara, he looked intrigued by the report. "There could've been children watching. Don't you elven harlots have any morals?"

"Sir, that's not what happened!" she said, forcing herself to speak slowly and resisting the urge to shout. "I swear to you, I'm not a prostitute! I wasn't there by my own will! That man raped me, and he's still out there somewhere!"

"That so, huh?" the Captain asked, sounding unconvinced. "Any other witnesses to back up her story?" he asked her escort.

"Nossir," the guard answered. "Though she did flash her dirty snatch to the entire damn town on the walk over here."

Leara nearly bit her tongue. How could they possibly hold that against her? That was her escort's fault!

The Captain sighed, then jerked a thumb. "Throw her in the lockup for now," he commanded. "We'll move her to the interrogation room soon to hear her testimony."

Leara's escort nodded, then shoved the poor elf along down the jailhouse halls. At the back of one hall, otherwise a dead-end, was a large cell made of three stone walls and one front wall of thick, crossed iron bars that looked impossible to damage or slip through. The guard pulled a key ring from his belt and opened the door to this cell with a rattling clang, then shoved Leara through. The elven woman finally lost her balance and fell to her knees on the hard stone floor as the door slammed shut behind her and her guard walked off, his footsteps echoing on the stone walls.

She knelt there in disbelief and self-pity for several long moments before finally looking up. When she did, her eyes widened and her breath caught, for she saw she was not alone. A human man sat on the rickety wooden bench that was the cell's only furniture, his pants ragged and dirty, his shirt missing. He smelled strongly of alcohol and stale sweat, and he slouched in his seat, staring down at the floor as if he didn't really see it. At Leara's gasp, he looked up at her with bleary, red-rimmed eyes that finally seemed to focus, then roam slowly over the elf's exposed body. She gulped and shrank into herself, covering her shame as best she could with her hands.

Too late. The drunk man smiled and stood up on wobbly legs. "Awful kind of 'em," he slurred, taking a step toward her. "Got me a somethin' to while away the time finally." And then, without warning, he fell forward towards her. Leara shrieked and tried to back away, but he was surprisingly quick for a drunkard, and soon he was lying overtop of her with her wrists held tightly in his hands, pinning her to the cold stone floor. "Pretty, too," he said, his foul breath washing over her.

"Ah! Please, get off of me!" she cried, cringing away as best she could from the odor of stale ale on his breath. She squirmed beneath him, but he was too heavy and she too weak. Worse, the drunk man seemed to take her wriggling as an invitation and planted his lips wetly against hers. Before she could cry out again, his tongue was in her mouth, probing and slipping over her own, almost gagging her.

"Tasty," he breathed as he pulled away, then reached down with one hand to fumble his manhood free of his pants. "Gonna have fun."

"Stop it!" she cried, nearly gagging, and reached down herself to grab his wrist, trying in vain to keep him from pulling his shaft free and rubbing it against her still sore and cum-stained slit. "Help!" she shouted in the direction of the corridor. "Someone, please help me!"

If anyone heard her, they ignored her, as no rushing footsteps marked another dubious salvation for her. Instead, his phallus finally out, the drunk man on top of her grabbed her free wrist and held it tight against the floor once more, prodding the head of his cock against her thighs all over before blindly finding her aching pussy.

For an instant, Leara's mind went blank in disbelief. She was about to be raped again, not a full hour after the first time, and once again there was no way to stop it. Then her numb thoughts washed away in sudden, piercing pain as the drunk man rammed his stiff cock haphazardly into her still-moist cunt, and she cried out again in fear and despair as he began thrusting wildly into her without rhythm or finesse, brutishly pounding away as he leaned over her pinned body and breathed heavily into her face.

I want to go home! she thought with sudden, searing urgency. I hate it here! I never should have come! How could I have been so stupid? Then the drunk man on top of and inside her clamped his mouth over hers once again and shoved his tongue so far between her lips she thought she might choke, and her thoughts were forcibly focused on her present situation once again.

But either as an effect of the alcohol or his own rough, inexpert attention, it seemed her latest attacker wouldn't finish no matter how long he ravaged her. As long as her abuse had seemed with the anonymous thug who'd forcibly deflowered her, this assault drug on for much, much longer, the man alternately panting against her face or forcing his kiss on her as he flailed atop her, pumping and thrusting wildly like a beast in heat, each invasion more uncomfortable than the last. Soon Leara even found herself wishing, in a perverse and humiliating way, that he would hurry up and loose his foul seed inside of her so that at least her torment would be over. The thought of wanting such a brute to defile her in such a manner would have made her break down in tears had she not been sobbing freely already.

Just when she began to think he would never be through with her, though, his frantic raping began to slow, his grip on her wrist loosening. The elf dared not open her eyes, though, until he finally buried himself deep inside of her and went still, his full weight collapsing on top of her. She blinked away her tears and looked up to find the drunkard asleep on top of her, his lax body still crushing her to the cold, hard stone floor. But though he'd thrust his manhood far into her tight depths, he still hadn't spent himself. Instead, Leara found herself trapped beneath him, her bruised slit stretched tight around the still-hard thickness of his cock, which throbbed rhythmically against the battered walls of her abused sex and sent a fresh little wave of discomfort through her with each pulse.

She wasn't sure which would have been worse, being pumped full of this foul human's cum or having to endure the constant feel of his unspent manhood still piercing her. But as she couldn't move beneath him and hadn't the strength to shove him off, all she could do was bear his crushing weight and stifling odor and hope that there was at least one sympathetic person somewhere close who would come to her rescue.

There wasn't. The best she got was the Watch Captain slowly pacing into the hall outside the holding cell, her arresting officer at his side. She had lain trapped, pinned and overstuffed, beneath her drunken defiler for the better part of an hour before they appeared, immediately took in the scene, and both scowled cruelly down at her tear-stained face. "Can't keep off a cock for a full hour, whore?" sneered the captain. "Fuckin' disgusting."

"Help me," Leara whimpered, fresh tears springing to her eyes to chase the old. "Please, just...get him off me, it hurts..."

The cell door clanked open under the captain's key, both men entering. The guard who'd arrested her and brought her here reached down to grab the drunkard by his shoulders, hauling him bodily up off of her, his still-throbbing shaft slipping from her sore pussy with a slick, wet slurp. Leara sucked in a deep lungful of air now that the man's weight and stench were off of her — but her breath caught in her throat when the captain reached down to grab her by the arm and yank her stumbling up to her feet, her legs shaky and weak from the ordeal.