FSE

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Felnara had been a long time in finding the village. It was a place she'd heard of only in rumors and legends, a wretched little spot no woman would dare set a foot... and that was precisely why she had devoted the best years of her life to finding it. Her reasoning was simple and sound: she hated men. Only the men in her own village were tolerable, with their chastity devices and cowed demeanors. They were set upon tasks around the village, compelled to obey a female no matter how minor her role, and when breeding time rolled around they were milked for their seed once and put back into their chastity. It was simple, and it was perfect.

The [i]Village of the Male Order[/i] was the antithesis to everything Felnara and her caste believed in, and that was why she was now going to raze it to the ground. Its leaders she would keep alive long enough to be castrated and see their village reduced to glowing embers. Its women in mental bondage, killed to let them retrieve some dignity after a lifetime of ignorant servitude.

These were the dogmatic reasons given for the massacre she was about to commit, but the reality was a black-and-white hatred of the male gender. All of her sisters knew it to the point that it was an open secret, but still her crusade would be a glorious tale told again and again in the oral tradition. Felnara would be a heroine, striking out against the bane of masculinity, and her sisters would shower her in praise - and affection.

She bit her lip to snap herself out of such lustful thoughts. To be distracted by sex on the cusp of her conquest was a decidedly male thing to do, and she made a note to administer the proper flagellation to herself afterward. She tightened her royal blue cloak, tying her black sash into a knot beneath her breasts. They were overlarge and proved troublesome to contain, but she needed not the use of physical armaments when she had such dark powers at her disposal.

Felnara moved gracefully, her tail swaying in her wake, feeling the ground and the trees as though possessing a mind of its own. The chatter of the forest masked her approach, and when she was near enough to be seen rather than simply heard from a distance, mild sounds of industry provided more cover. Even at this nearly midnight hour, the village was a busy place. Men, most all of them fairly young specimens in their prime, worked to erect a longhouse by the light of a bonfire. Their women were nowhere to be seen. This alone infuriated Felnara.

It should have been a massacre by all rights. Felnara was a mythical beast - a Lugia, specifically, infused with dark powers by hateful rituals. Her deep purple hide seemed to swallow the light which touched it and her red eyes gleamed like coals, each glimpse of them offering a sample of the hatred brewing in her.

Had she stuck to her proven guerrilla tactics and begun torching their buildings and picking off their numbers one by one until a panic gripped them and made them easy slaughter, there would have been no trouble at all. But Felnara [i]hated[/i] this place of legend, and she wanted a more personal touch.

Never did it occur to her that hubris would be the end of her long and bloody career as a man-killer. She had barely made her cloaked figure seen when the men of the village were upon her, shouting of a stranger, calling all hands to the scene. Darkness and the matching hue of her cloak obscured her figure, and more importantly her gender, making this fight a simple matter of life-or-death to the startled men.

Felnara manifested her shadowy powers in an aura of darkness, recognizable as a bend in the light around her, as though she were the focal point of a singularity. A moment longer and she would have decimated the men before her, liquefying them and leveling their structure in progress; but in that crucial moment, a steel farming implement crashed against the back of her skull.

How could she have been so foolish? Of [i]course[/i] the back-biters had come around behind her; she'd been stupid and offered herself up to a cowardly blow. As her world went fully black, her aura dissipated and the light snapped back into place. [i]This is what they'll speak of,[/i] she thought with her waning lucidity. [i]I rushed into battle, and got my skull cracked open... some heroine.[/i]

It was some ungodly wee hour of the morning when the dark Lugia woke. Where she was proved to be warm and sheltered, though her bedding was nothing more than an emptied burlap bag. Clothesline lashed her wrists together. Having been bound for hours left her tendons aching and an angry pain which worked through her shoulder blades like an arrowhead made her want to cry. She grit her teeth against this show of weakness, letting only a single tear roll down her cheek.

The pain, fortunately for the villagers, had the unexpected effect of undermining Felnara's powers. She couldn't focus to manifest them. Oh, how she tried, but the pain was like a brick wall separating her from the powers which would rescue her - and slaughter the men. The possibility for much male death around her kept her from losing her narrow grip on hope.

Felnara was awake and struggling for an hour before her captors came into the small room. In hushed murmurs among themselves, the young men with their sun-bronzed skin and youthful beard stubble remarked on both the species and the gender of their acquisition. Felnara heard bone-chilling mumblings of immolation and dismemberment; sexual depravity; crucifixion. The same things she'd have happily done to all of them were frightening when she had to consider them happening to her.

The Lugia was taken outside, carried by two men over their right shoulders. Their hard hands grasped at her figure to hold her aloft, keeping her balanced like a roll of carpet or a freshly-felled tree. She could envision melting the flesh from their bones!

She was taken outside where the dew was heavy, promising an unbearably humid day, but the coming inclementness wasn't among her concerns. Near the village's core, close to the well and within a small plaza of flowerbeds was a dense pike. It was really little more than a rough-cut timber jutting from the earth. Felnara was stood against it, and her sleeping arms were unbound only to be stretched behind her and around the pike before being lashed to it. Still dressed in her obscuring cloak, but now standing out against the early morning light, she glared from beneath her hood.

"I'll destroy every last one of you," she snarled, grimacing as they took down her hood - her protection from their eyes being the one thing she felt she still had left.

The humans looked at her unfamiliar face, baffled by her species, offended by her gender, fascinated hideously by her as a whole. They murmured again among themselves, some looking back at her, cracking grins rife with mischief.

"Jeffrey - please bring the knife."

Felnara stiffened, staring at the sneering face which had said that. The one called Jeffrey left briefly, coming back with a knife obviously made for skinning game, and handed it to he who seemed to be the leader. "Thank you," he quietly said, not looking at Jeffrey. His eyes didn't leave Felnara.

Wielding the blade, letting its tip dully gleam near the Lugia's snout, he asked cheekily, "Every last one of us - is that so?"

Death was an eventuality Felnara had steeled herself for, but facing down the point of a blade now shook her. It was subtle... but it was enough of a pause that the leader of the small group laughed and said, "You're as weak as the breeding stock in the kitchen. Let's see if there's anything useful on your strange body, you angry traveler!"

"I am [i]not[/i] weak, but I am indeed angry! Your women are cowed, but I am [i]strong![/i] I'd destroy you--!"

It was Jeffrey whom crashed the back of a work-toughened hand into her face. Her head whipped aside; she cried out in shock and anger. Spittle bubbled at the corners of her mouth.

"She speaks so much!" Jeffrey huffed, and shook his now-sore hand. "And what is [i]this[/i] ugly bauble?"

"No! Don't you dare!" the Lugia snarled, thrashing and tugging. She lashed out with a leg, missing Jeffrey's knee by a mile but prompting the leader to order his men to bind her legs.

When the beast was bound fully, Jeffrey reached out - with some caution which Felnara might've found amusing under other circumstances - and snatched the small gold medallion hanging from twine about her neck. He pulled it in a closed fist, causing the Lugia to shriek, then scream in anger. When it didn't come loose, the leader brought the edge of the knife near and slit it cleanly. Felnara didn't flinch from the blade, but she hissed savagely when her decoration was taken.

The men gathered around to look at the medallion in Jeffrey's palm. "What is this?" he murmured, then chuckled. "Oh... how quaint. And misguided."

What adorned the medallion in relief was the female symbol, standing straight and proud, its square shaft crushing the prone and horizontal male symbol like a boot stomping on a glass. All of the men took in its meaning, and then the leader took it from Jeffrey.

He dangled it before her, the knife clutched in his other hand. "A cute symbol. I don't know what whore ideology produced it, but you'll be having none of that here..." Taking his eyes off the furious, red glare of the Lugia, whose teeth ground together and whose lower jaw was striped with saliva, he handed it to one of his fellow men and uttered, "Add it to the pile. We'll smelt it with the other gold scrap later."

[i]"Bastard,"[/i] Felnara spat, slinging spittle at the feet of the leader. "I'll see your head on a pike. I'll castrate you with that knife of yours!"

He brought said knife near, jabbing its point into her neck. Felnara winced, pulled away, but still lost a drop of blood to the prod. Calmly, "The only flesh my knife cuts is that of whores." He began to slice apart her cloak, ripping big rends in the sturdy, moody fabric. Great patches of her indigo and silver hide were bared. One large breast spilled free, and a yank on the ragged cloak exposed its twin. An approving murmur passed through the throng of men.

"Amazing!" one of the men laughed. "A foul beast takes such an alluring shape. How she begs to be taken!"

Still the leader ripped apart her attire, leaving the enraged Lugia naked save for tatters which he couldn't be bothered to slice off of her. The critical areas were all exposed, much to the private approval of his men.

"A fine body you have," the leader sighed, rubbing his rough chin thoughtfully. "Now, as for [i]this[/i] item..."

Felnara followed the human's ruddy hand, watched it disappear past her breasts. He touched her navel and she huffed. He slid his fingers lower, across the tight cotton panties she wore. Its material was black, and somewhat thick, but he started to rub and pinch the split of her cuntlips through it.

"Ah...! [i]Stop[/i] that!" snapped the Lugia, her cheeks beginning to flush a cherry-red hue.

"Warm. [i]Very[/i] warm," the leader cooed, gripping the knife tighter in his other hand. He rubbed the indistinct shapes of her loins, pushing his fingers roughly into her clitoris, wedging the black cotton briefly into her with a push between the lips. Wetness she didn't want was oozing from her, making the cotton heavy and spongy. She grimaced, panting from the corners of her mouth with her red eyes clenched shut. A tear, singular and lonely, rolled down her cheek.

The human was grinning, penis hard under simple trousers. He rubbed her with no new motions, but did them harder and faster. He watched his dirty work one moment, then her strained face the next. "You're a whore, beast," he whispered. The words were offensively loving. "A [i]whore.[/i] You crave my phallus, don't you?"

"I--, I swear," Felnara started in a fragile voice. She couldn't bring herself to finish the tired threat.

The leader bit his lip. He was breathing hotly on her breasts. He dug his fingers into her deeper, letting his fingernails stab at her cunt through the panties. "She's very wet." His words were conspiratory as if he were whispering lewd things to her, not informing his flock of the scandal. "She's going to climax. I can feel it."

"I won't," the Lugia said, pathetically. "I won't...!"

His fingering was just how her lovers at her own village (how distant a concept that place seemed now) preferred to rile her up and ready her for the tongue. Except they always stopped before this point and took off the panties; the human was ruthless and firm and he kept going well past the point where she could have bounced back and lasted a bit longer. He kept fingering her until finally she squirted.

The orgasm happened with so little reaction from the Lugia that the leader didn't realize it had happened at all until he felt the sticky wetness oozing around his calloused fingers. It ran down her thighs, patting onto the stone like raindrops off an eve. He pulled a face, then sniffed his fingers. He laughed. "I thought the beast had pissed on me. She's climaxed!"

A wild, rowdy laugh drunk on rape and misogyny tore through the crowd. There was even some applause. The leader, grinning hugely, cut off the Lugia's saturated panties with the knife. When Felnara felt its blunt, cold back against her hip, she flinched.

"A treat to whomever wants the beast's stench," said the leader, and he tossed the panties up.

Felnara watched with hate in her eyes as they spun end over end, slinging her wetness across the stones and the lewdly delighted faces of the men. Like bridesmaids huddling around to catch the bouquet, they muscled and pushed to be the ones to catch the garment. He who did pulled away from the crowd, resisting grabbing hands and giddy urges to share in favor of stuffing his nose into his wet new prize.

"You all sicken me," Felnara hissed, her voice lost in the crowd.

Coldly, in spite of his grin, the leader said: "Andrew. You've not had the first go that I can recall. This one is yours to start."

"Yes sir," said Andrew, his voice as captivated as the smile on his face. He slipped around the other men, proving to be one of the taller of the group, standing as high as the Lugia's thick bust; Felnara was every bit of seven feet tall. "Hmm... and I may begin any way I wish?"

"Mhm," the leader mumbled, licking his fingers.

Andrew shuddered at the prospect, grasping the Lugia's breasts in calloused hands. He caressed them, moving his palms slowly over their great, plump curves. Her nipples, stiffened by anger and orgasm, were tweaked under his fingers. "By god, she's so soft," he whispered. "This beast has fairer skin than even the youngest girl I've seen."

Felnara was grinning with hatred. Her eyes seemed to glow brighter. "You. I'll cut your hands off... I'll stuff them inside of your castrated corpse."

"You'd be very smart to stop talking," the leader cut in. "Andrew--."

"And you! I'll do more than cut your cock off with that knife. I'll see that it's force-fed to you!" the bitch snapped, casting her impotent glare on him.

Andrew gave her a backhand on a still-glowing cheek, jerking her head aside and shaking a cry from her. Reddened marks where his knuckles had dug into her hide began to blossom. As if that weren't enough, he gave her another - to the same cheek, no less.

He was rearing up for a third backhand when the leader laughed and said, "Easy! Easy. That's enough, Andrew. Don't break your hand. The bitch will learn."

The molestation began again, Andrew stroking her thick breasts, ignoring how swollen his knuckles were becoming. He kissed between her breasts and the stubble on his face prickled her like a cactus; Felnara shuddered with revulsion and writhed in her bonds.

"Release me," she hissed. "Untie me, right now, and I won't raze your village."

"She lies," someone in the group plainly said.

"I know she lies," the leader was quick to reply. "Andrew, enough of this. She is a beast. You wouldn't romance your mount, would you?"

[i]Oh, I'm sure he'd fuck his horse,[/i] Felnara tartly thought. The throb in her cheek kept her tongue still, but she sneered outwardly anyway.

Somebody brought a stool out, putting it down on the uneven stone. Andrew, after stripping out of his clothes and exposing a modest, uncircumcised cock, stepped onto the stool and steadied himself by holding the Lugia's shoulders. "Hold up her legs," he chuckled. "I can't quite reach the beast's dirty sex from this angle."

Just as quickly as they'd been tied, Felnara's legs were let free. She wasted no time in attempting to buck and thrash, and she very nearly took Andrew off the stool. One of her feet connected with the chest of one of the kneeling men, knocking the wind from his lungs. "Bastards! [i]Bastards!"[/i] she screamed, her voice reedy and savage.

In time, the men had her by the legs, and they pulled them up and further than was necessary, tugging them so far apart that briefly, Felnara winced in pain and felt as if she were a wishbone. At the height of the pain, Andrew entered her suddenly; nothing else mattered to Felnara but that.

The Lugia's cry cut through the still, wet air of the village, dying fast in the trees. She trembled, unintuitively clenching on the groaning human's member in an attempt to stop him. Tears rolled down her cheeks, glistening with the morning sunlight. She whimpered through teeth which were almost fully clenched, "I'll kill you..."

"Mmh, by god," Andrew panted, bucking in hard, pulling back fast. Blood dribbled from the Lugia's gash, running down the human's penis to cake in his pubic hair. "This sinful beast is a [i]virgin..."[/i]

"Pah, a virgin," the village leader chuckled. "If I couldn't see the blood from her cunt, I wouldn't believe it. In fact--."

"I swear I'll kill every last one of you!"

The leader only smiled at her outburst, watching with approval as Andrew's cock slid in and out, in and out, becoming progressively more stained with the foul beast's blood. "Hm. [i]In fact,"[/i] he reiterated, "I'd have guessed with such a desirable form, she [i]wishes[/i] to be taken in this way."

Pointed anger simmered in Felnara's eyes, still red, but wet with tears. She struggled against the men holding her legs, pointless though that was. And she spat at Andrew; but that too was pointless. Her large breasts quivered and shook as the human, whose breathing was growing increasingly haggard, fucked her for the first time in her life. She hated her breasts then. It was revolting to her to have two such large beacons for lustful, piggish men to leer at. Their primary function of nursing the young seemed dead and gone.

Sudden and notable above the chatter and idle lewdness of the group, Andrew grunted, threw his arms around her and the pole and humped her with all the strength in his tall body. Felnara grimaced, tossing back her head, bumping it on the pole. She hardly noticed the pain of the bump, too preoccupied with her defilement, and that distraction hit its peak when Andrew shot into her.

It was hardly a big load and neither was it put very far inside of her, but the unfamiliar sensation was so sickening that Felnara felt ill in her stomach. She cried out to the sky above. Tears rolled down her cheeks, down her neck, and she was for once stricken more by self-pity than anger.

"God, too perfect," Andrew breathed, pushing his face into her breasts. He kissed and licked them, nibbled on their curves. He bit on the nipples, pinching them hard.

Felnara weathered it with a hiss, but it was when the human pulled down her head and forced a kiss on her that she could be passive no longer. Her limbs were tied but her teeth were free; she sunk them into Andrew's bottom lip like a piranha, digging in and drawing blood. It seemed a fair trade for her.

The Lugia kept her eyes squarely on Andrew's, savoring the size of his pupils and the shock in his gaze. Men were programmed from birth to be tough; making one show his fear and agony was what the Lugia lived for, and she allowed herself a muffled laugh as he squealed and wept.

It didn't last nearly long enough for Felnara. If she'd had her way, she would have torn off as much of the man's face as possible. Instead his pained mewling attracted immediate retribution: the men at her sides dropped her legs, but before she could put them to any good use, they laid into her flanks and belly with fists and the handles of their tools. They pounded and punched and smashed her, causing her such pain that she might have passed out if not for all her fury, but she ultimately let go of the human's lip. Her final revenge on him, unintended though it was, was that he fell back naked and bloodied on the stone.

There Felnara hung by her arms, her purple hide doing little to betray the bruises her captors left, but where that hide let over into the silver, nasty blots of necrotic shades started to appear. She licked the human's blood off her lips and teeth and stared down at him with a teary, but defiant glare.

"Get her down from there," the leader barked, his grip on the knife white-knuckle. "Keep her arms tied."

There'd been an angry murmur in the crowd starting with the bite but it became a sound of approval when the whore was beaten into submission. Then as she was taken off the pole and tried to thrash, the approval turned to derision. She struggled with her weak limbs, hurling threats and declarations of hate. She promised to show their own women how best to castrate them; swore to personally defile their eunuch corpses. She breathlessly screamed all of this as a few of the men bound her arms, at times bending them so harshly that they nearly broke. Other men molested her, groping her by the cunt and the tits ruthlessly, leaving bruises with their fingers.

Then came the paint, brought near as she lay bound and kicking with wet eyes and a snarl in her voice. It was red as a strawberry, and they smeared it on her with their fingers. On her silver belly beneath her breasts was the sloppily-written word [i]WHORE.[/i] On one tit, [i]SLUT beast,[/i] and on its twin, [i]beast milk here.[/i] One of them thrust two fingers into her, staining them red but not with paint. He fingerfucked her as she shouted and kicked, but only as long as it took the men to again subdue her legs.

"I hate all of you! I hate every single one of you!" she petulantly screamed, slinging spittle across the rough stones.

On her long neck, Andrew wrote [i]sperm sluice.[/i] Another of the men chose to scrawl upon her thigh [i]slut hole[/i] with an arrow pointing upward; whether it directed readers to her pussy or her anus was open to interpretation.

Evidently the leader had certain ideas regarding that mystery. "Roll her onto her belly," he firmly commanded, finally putting down his knife to shed his clothes. He, much like Andrew, had an uncircumcised cock. His was of a considerable length, preceded by a thick black bush and with a plump ballbag underneath. The bitch was given a short look at his endowment before she was put on her front.

Smiling tightly, the leader knelt on the stone and pried apart Felnara's wide ass cheeks. The Lugia shrieked in revulsion and wild, unchained hatred. Her small, pink pucker, by contrast, winked delicately against the morning air. "If you [i]dare[/i] sodomize me--!" she sputtered, swinging her long tail at him. It batted against his chest, bruising him, though he flinched his head back in time to avoid a more painful strike. Without being told, his men grabbed it and held it down, bending it agonizingly upward to keep it still. Felnara bellowed in pain.

Certainly for his own benefit, the leader hawked and spat on the Lugia's anus before rubbing in the drool with the pad of his thumb. A disgusted noise escaped the beast.

More slowly than Andrew had entered her muff, the leader pushed his cockhead against her asshole and began to push. Her tight anal muscles struggled against the human's cock, but ultimately gave way to permit the invading object. She whimpered, and again her rage faltered and allowed a more vulnerable side to show.

The deeper the leader's penis went, the worse the pain became. Her muscles were unused to being spread open; and unlike her cunt, they were explicitly an exit. Once the leader's hips met her thick bottom (in one steady push, no less), she hissed, and then she muttered, "You've sealed your fate, I'll return to your village with the entirety of my tribe... we shall--!"

"More slut pets like yourself?" the leader asked, interrupting her promise. He smiled and sighed, "How delightful." He let his toned weight rest on her by pressing down on her shoulder blades. He drew back his penis, which Felnara found to be little of a relief; she knew there was more pain to come. But as if to tease her, he withdrew his cock in its entirety, letting the head of his penis rest against the smooch of her pucker a moment before he pushed it inside again. Felnara went through that burning agony a second time, curling her toes and wiggling the tip of her tail in a token effort of defiance.

"Mmm, I would never sodomize my own women," the leader said, moving his hips smoothly. "But you? You are a beast. You're afforded no dignities." His saliva was doing next to nothing, having already been spread thin and worn nearly away, and the dribble of precum he had to offer was practically a means to tease her about how dry she was.

The effect of the anal rape, besides the pain it was already inflicting on her, was the noticeable reddening and swelling of her anus. As it grew puffier and more raw, the pain rose in parallel. Felnara whimpered and hissed against the stones.

Kneeling close to her face, his erection in plain view (but woefully out of biting distance), another human snickered and asked, "I do hope you bring back all of your bitch compatriots, beast. I'd like to think at least one of them will be more willing to admit she enjoys it."

"None of my sisters would ever admit to such an indignity!" barked Felnara. Formerly subdued, she began again to fight and thrash. She shook free a leg and started to wiggle her tail out of submission. "But they'll not have to come here! I'll slaughter the lot of you myself, I swear!"

The leader, grimacing and plainly annoyed, wrapped a heavy hand around the Lugia's long and fairly delicate neck. He dug his fingertips into her throat, choking her off before she could start her circular threats again and ending her bitching with a satisfying squawk which the men found amusing enough to laugh at. Grinning himself and fucking the beast's ass harder and harder as the need for release began to tickle at him, he panted, "If you so much as scratch any of my men, I will make slaves of your [i]sisters."[/i] He spat the emphasized word, wrenching harder, tighter on the hide of her neck, turning the whore's attempts at language into a gurgle. Drool fell from her mouth in long, humiliating runners; her struggling briefly peaked, then exponentially became weaker and less coordinated.

Soft but pleasured moans escaped the leader. His muscular bottom bobbed over top of the Lugia, his uncaring cock reaming her reddened ass while savoring the tightness of its muscles. "I'll make milk slaves of your fellow beasts. Use them for pack mules. Fuck them until their bodies can take no more, as you're soon to understand."

Felnara suffered through every word, finding that they stung in a way the strangling and the sodomization couldn't. Her vision had begun to gray, her perceptions in general becoming uselessly dull, but she knew what was being said to her.

A sudden grunt from the leader accompanied his release of her neck. She wheezed through her bruised windpipe and failed to resist the urge to cry. Her temples throbbed as the blood rushed into her head again. She was given most of her lucidity just in time to feel the gush of the leader's semen filling her ass in that most vile way - the sickening feeling of being bred, but in the wrong hole. She clenched her teeth and shut her eyes tight to hold back the tears.

"Yes, my [i]god,[/i] that's so good," the leader muttered, a grin on his face, brown eyes rolled back and looking dreamily into the hazy sky. He drew back slowly, his cock pulsing much as the Lugia's swollen, reddened anus pulsed. With a cock no longer plugging her, semen dribbled from her ass into her bloody cunt. This nasty sight amused the men greatly.

It set the tone for the rest of the day. One by one by one, the men had their way with her. They painted her with slurs and declarations of ownership. They came on her as often as they came in her; a slurry of cum drooled from both her orifices, tinged red by her vaginal tearing, though her anus never ripped, merely stayed red and puffy. Her large breasts and often scowling, threatening face were the preferred targets when they didn't wish to leave their messes inside of her.

The sun watched dispassionately the men as they had their way with Felnara, raping her one after another, going in pairs and even trios; going multiple times, even in the same session. As time went by, some of the men dressed, going off to labor, only to return hours later sweaty from work and hard for the she-beast's body again.

There was no limit to the sheer depravity of the men. They'd begun to humor the notion that they were, through their noble rape, purifying her and driving out that ridiculous hatred of men she harbored. True, she was still screaming and fussing, but in time she would come around.

Her rape went on through the evening. The faces changed, but the acts were the same. As the sun vanished into the trees and the wry crescent grin of the moon waxed, the Lugia's body was a mess of bruises, encrusted semen, and scandalous words layered on so thick as to become an unreadable smattering of red paint.

And yet still, the bitch was defiant. She was obviously exhausted; starved and dehydrated, too; but she struggled and fought and screamed with her raw vocal cords. Both her cunt and her asshole were reddened hideously, swollen to nearly grotesque proportions. One could look at them and count the beats of her heart by their pulsations. The men beat and choked and penetrated and marked her, but Felnara's spirit was indomitable.

That was when they brought out their stallion.

Like Felnara, this new beast was a Pokemon too. Unlike her, it was stupid and four-legged, obedient to their whims and affectionate, accepting pets on its muzzle and offering nuzzles and nickers in return. She recognized that it was a Rapidash; she'd ridden them, the equine beasts being among the fastest forms of transport over land, but she understood immediately that this beast was about to ride [i]her.[/i]

With the use of the Rapidash's burning mane, a torch was lit, adding brilliant orange light to the stone plaza. More and more torches were lit, adding a loose ring of fire, filling the air with smells of burning sap and smoke.

The equine approached Felnara's abused, prostrate body. A fat, black erection hung free of its sheath, dribbling precum in a gross display of excess. The men cheered and laughed and Felnara was hoisted by them, pulled up under the Rapidash and held by her four extremities as though she were about to be drawn and quartered.

"Don't do this to me!" she yowled, staring into the dispassionate stallion's yellow breast. "I'll spare your village...! I will never come here again if you stop!" Her voice was desperate, pleading. Tears rolled from her eyes as she lied to them. Oh, yes, she would kill them down to the last child if they turned her loose. This only cemented it.

"Whether this beast speaks the truth or not," the leader said, watching as his men negotiated the Rapidash's flared, fat cockhead against Felnara, "we've begun a very important task with this creature! We [i]must[/i] see it through - she'll be purified! Or she'll die as we try it!"

This caused a raucous cheer from the men. Felnara sobbed openly. "I hate you," she whimpered. Her voice was tiny. "I hate all of you."

Larger than an apple but mercifully softer, the head of the Rapidash's cock was forced into Felnara. She winced and gasped, tugged at her arms, beat her tail uselessly on the stone. She could have swung it up and crashed it into the horse's balls - but then death certainly awaited her.

Felnara had never expected a stallion to be gentle with her. That was exactly why his mere presence had struck such fear into the foolhardy bitch's heart, but she had no idea just how brutal he'd turn out to be. Merely feeling the Lugia's cunt around his dark meat made him nicker and snort, blasting twin jets of flame from his nostrils. His flaming mane grew brilliant, bathing the plaza in firelight, casting dancing shadows on the buildings. He bucked forward, mashing ten inches of overlarge meat into the Lugia.

The men held her fast, watching with grins and naked erections as the Rapidash's member gouged her. Fresh runners of vaginal blood oozed from her and matching the spectacle perfectly was a dry, pained scream from somewhere deep in her body. The worst agony was how helpless she was. She was so weak that she could hardly tug at the hands holding her still.

Another sharp thrust, and the Rapidash bullied his remaining twelve inches into Felnara as though they were nothing. The Lugia's overtaxed birth canal flexed painfully around his cock and the Lugia screamed at such a pitch that her voice gave way into a coughing fit. She blubbered and sobbed, coughed and sputtered, alternately mumbling violent promises and pleas for mercy in the same delirious babble.

Somebody smacked the Rapidash on the bottom, and that really got him going. He began to buck, but did so without pulling back; he pushed the Lugia into the humans' hands, and they pulled her towards his balls in a coordinated effort. A fist-sized bulge struggled against the Lugia's abdominal wall and she yowled as if being murdered. She was utterly mad with pain.

Now the Rapidash pulled back, but only seven inches. He mashed it home again and snorted hotly and two more jets of flame lit the plaza with their red-white brilliance. He fucked her like so, not knowing she wasn't a mare, not caring. Her cunt was raw, but so snug and hot. His precum oozed into her, adding to the blood and the semen already deposited there. This disgusting mess of fluids drooled out of her with the consistency of molasses.

As brutal and powerful as the Rapidash's sex was, it was short-lived. Gouging open Felnara and bruising her cervix with the head of his cock was too much for a woefully-undersexed stud to bear - just like the pain was too much for the Lugia to stomach.

Following one more savage snort, the Rapidash came with incredible power. His semen was naturally hot and it gushed into the Lugia's hurt womb like a geyser. Ropes of his thick, sloppy carrier fluid gushed out of her, slopping across the stones, sounding like pails of water being tossed on the rocks. Felnara could only bleat and sob. The capacity for articulate language had been wrung out of her.

Just like that, the Rapidash was disinterested. Though he was heaving and snuffling, he pulled back implacably and the fat flare of his cock popped out of her followed by a rush of cum so thick that her ongoing bleeding was utterly lost in it. The humans set Felnara on the slimy stones of the plaza, and the Rapidash walked over her, his cock dribbling the watery remains of his release on her as it went past.

There Felnara lay, surrounded by the men. Shamefully, she made a lame effort to cover her thick, bruised breasts, covered with foul words and semen. She pressed her thighs together and closed her eyes against their judging gazes and just sobbed.

"The beast is purified," the leader crooned. "And now begins a life of service for her. What say you, beast?"

The beast could think of nothing to say. Her silence, where there had once been just bilious hate, was taken as consent.