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She promised herself she would not cry or let her pride crack. That lasted all of a day, before the raping started. And kept going. Until the day they stop, no longer having use for a broken toy.\n\nSo, I'm known for a few things in my stories. One is my dialog. I love writing it. But it can make a story drag. So I challenged myself to write a story with no dialog at all. Inspired by an image I saw recently, as well.\n\nThis is also the first in my now newly combined medieval setting. I haven't come up with a name for it yet, but several of my older stories will be in this. I'll compile a pool when I come up with a proper name. For now, enjoy this little bit of entertainment.\n\n- - - - -\n\nA massive thank you to my top tier subscribers:\nSedyna | [fa]jafferroshak[/fa] | RoleplayCentral | [fa]akinkyyfox[/fa]\n\nIf you would like early access to my stories, weekly previews and updates, access to my private discord, chance to have your character become part of the lore, and other bonus content, please consider subscribing to my [url=https://subscribestar.adult/xp_author]SubscribeStar[/url]", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Alana is the 19 year old princess of a kingdom, which has just been invaded. She promised herself she would not cry or let her pride crack. That lasted all of a day, before the raping started. And kept going. Until the day they stop, no longer having use for a broken toy.

So, I'm known for a few things in my stories. One is my dialog. I love writing it. But it can make a story drag. So I challenged myself to write a story with no dialog at all. Inspired by an image I saw recently, as well.

This is also the first in my now newly combined medieval setting. I haven't come up with a name for it yet, but several of my older stories will be in this. I'll compile a pool when I come up with a proper name. For now, enjoy this little bit of entertainment.

- - - - -

A massive thank you to my top tier subscribers:
Sedyna | \n\t\t\t\t\tjafferroshak | RoleplayCentral | \n\t\t\t\t\takinkyyfox

If you would like early access to my stories, weekly previews and updates, access to my private discord, chance to have your character become part of the lore, and other bonus content, please consider subscribing to my SubscribeStar", "writing": "[center][b][u]Coffee Break Story[/u][/b][/center]\n[center][b]Royal Humiliation[/b][/center]\n[center]By XP Author[/center]\n\nShe promised herself she wouldn't cry. Even when the invading army broke through into the palace. Princess Arana Sorendain watched as her father, tried to hold off the equine soldiers that charged into the throne room. The mink king had been a great warrior in his youth, and his sword skills were still great. He cut down one after another. But age had slowed him, and the enemy was great in number. He was soon overwhelmed, small opening leading to cuts getting through. Then a spear pierced his chest, followed by another. He did not fall until near a dozen were stuck into him, but fall he still did, his royal blood spilled upon the marble floor of the throne room.\n\nHer mother fared no better. She was no warrior, and yet she still picked up a sword and cleaved one of the soldiers across the chest, spilling his guts upon the marble. It was the only attack that succeeded, a sword piercing through her back, the tip emerged from between her breasts. She fell as it was drawn free, crawling to her dead husband. Arana watched her mother die beside her father. And then the hands grabbed her. The men spoke, but she did not understand their guttural language. They dragged her before some other soldier in much fancier armor. Likely a leader of men. Possibly the leader of the invaders, she did not know. Still, she refused to shed tears in front of him, holding her head high and awaiting him striking her down as her parents had been.\n\nInstead, she was dragged away. She was taken to a place she had rarely visited, the dungeons. The threw her into a cell, locking the door. They did not even bother to clap her in irons. She was no threat to them, and they knew it. Even if she were to escape, the invaders occupied the palace and the city as a whole. The dungeons were not deep underground, and so she could still hear the sound of fighting outside for some time. More, she heard the sounds of screams as her people were cut down. Fire as the buildings were burnt to the ground. But the silence that came after was somehow worse.\n\nShe was not sure how long she was in the cell for. Hours certainly. Possibly more than a day. None came to check on her in that time. Nor did they come to feed her. Only once did she need to relieve herself, thankful none could see the shameful act. They had not even given her the courtesy of a bucket, so she simply had to piss into the straw in the corner of the cell. At first she thought they meant to break her, but as the time dragged on, she thought they had forgotten. Or perhaps they simply threw her down here to die slowly. Her greater hope was there was some counter attack happening in secret, and soon a savior would come to set her free.\n\nHer hopes were dashed when a pair of equine soldiers came into the dungeon eventually. They reeked of alcohol, their uniforms disheveled from their drunken revelry. They spoke to her in their foreign tongue again, the words slurred. Yet even not knowing what they were saying, she knew by their tone they were taunting her. She turned her head away, not wanting to look at them. She kept as much poise as she could in the situation. She was a daughter of Sorendain. She would not beg for her life to these common thugs. They seemed to take that as an insult, one getting an angrier tone with her.\n\nThen the cell door opened. Large hands grasped at her, shoving her down to the ground. Then they started to pull at her dress, ripping it open down her back. She still tried to hold her tongue, but then grew more violent, shoving her about to tear her clothing away. She tried to cover herself as her ample breasts were exposed, but a boot connected with the side of her face, sending her slumping to the ground in a daze. She still clenched her jaw as they continued to rip her clothing away. Soon, she was left bare, white fur and svelte body exposed for them to see. The only adornment they left was the beaded string of jewels in her long silver hair, the symbol of her station as princess.\n\nThe hands grabbed at her again, groping at her body. She clenched her jaw tight, squeezing her eyes shut as the drunken soldiers roughly fondled her breasts, rear, legs, and tail. She would not scream for them. That was what she promised herself. A promise she could not keep. A cock suddenly prodded at her now exposed slit, and with a hard thrust, speared deep inside of her, robbing her of her virginity. The equine rod was far too large for the 19 year old mink to take, even if she was willing. It spread her inner walls painfully wide, ripping her as the man started to thrust into her over and over. She finally broke her promise and screamed in pain.\n\nThat was a mistake, as the second man took the chance to stuff his own cock into her opened mouth. The taste was foul, but worse was how it stuffed down into her throat, painfully cutting off her air. Her eyes went wide as the man gripped at her ears to yank her head forward, cramming himself even deeper. The urge to throw up was great, her throat instinctively clenching over and over to try and eject the invading obstruction, but the man held firm. The two laughed, taunting her again once again. Her head started to grow foggy from the lack of air, her chest growing hot as a burning need for air filled her lungs instead. Her heart pounded as her hearing faded to the rushing of blood, a ringing rising to obscure all sound. Clouds of darkness started to fog her vision, punctuated by periodic sparks of light that were not there.\n\nHer eyes clouded over as she struggled to stay conscious. She was not sure, but she might have tried to strike at the legs of the man in front of her. Behind her, the other man was still ramming himself into her, his flared tip striking the deepest reaches of her pussy. Even on her knees, her legs failed her, and she was kept from falling completely to the floor only by the grip on her hips. The world started to fade as the lack of air overwhelmed her, and she was sure this is how she would die. That was when the man in her throat came, the cock throbbing and pulsing as it shot his spunk deep down her throat and into her belly. She was only dimly aware of it, or that the other man raping her was also cumming, filling her pussy with his own load, enough to leak out around the shaft and drool down her thighs.\n\nJust as quickly as it had entered her, the cock in her throat was ripped free. She immediately started to cough and spit up gobs of semen, tainted slightly pinkish from whatever damage he had done to her throat in the process. The man behind her pulled out a moment later, the cum drooling from her pussy even more red from her blood. They both let her go, and she collapsed to the cold stone floor, coughing and retching, gasping for the air so long denied. The two laughed at her as the wiped themselves off on her fur, leaving streaks of bloodied cum on her back. The laughter continued as they left her there, naked, hacking and coughing on the floor. It was there that she broke her first promise, tears soaking into her fur.\n\nThey would not be the last soldiers to use her. Over the next several days, more men would come down to see her. They would use her mouth, her pussy, her ass, fuck between her tits, or simply jerk off and spray their load onto her. Her once pristine white fur was left filthy from dirt, as well as matted and clumped from the tried cum soaked into it. Someone would bring her water sparingly. Just enough for her to keep from dying of thirst. The water tasted almost as foul as the shafts and loads dumped down her throat, like it had been taken from a livestock trough instead of a well. They gave her no food, save the loads she was forced to consume, most of which she spat back up in a fit of retching coughs. They always made her drink the water first before using her mouth, so the taste was forced to linger.\n\nShe was not sure how many days this went on. She rarely got the chance to sleep as the men kept coming to rape her. She had more than once been woken by a man stuffing himself inside of one hole or another. She was so tired. She had long given up hope of rescue. All she wanted to do was go to sleep and pretend this nightmare was just that, that she might wake in her bed. Soon, she did not even have the energy to even drink the water they provided. It had to be poured down her throat twice, a hand clamping on her muzzle to force her to swallow. She wondered if she could let herself drown, but instincts made her swallow.\n\nThen it all stopped. Yet she could get no rest, left numb on the floor. A bowl of water was left on the floor in front of her. She could not even bring herself to lift her head to drink. She closed her eyes, but no sleep came. Everything was left in too much agony from the repeated uses. She did not open her eyes as she heard the boots coming into the room. Her brief rest was over. As the door opened, she expected the next man to start using her. While two pairs of hands did grab her, they did not shove her over for another rape. Instead, they both dragged her up onto her feet, though still had to support her as she could barely stand.\n\nWith the faintest glimmer of hope, she forced her eyes to open and focus, wishing for the two men to be some of her people come to rescue her. Her faint last hope was shattered just as quickly as she saw the red uniform and chestnut fur of the equines dragging her out of the cell. One barked an order at her she did not understand, but the hand shoving against her back to force her to walk forward got the point across. She managed to walk, but not fast enough, the man shoving her again, nearly knocking her to the ground.\n\nThe two soldiers led her out, eventually onto the streets of the city itself. It was the first time since the invasion she had seen it. All around, buildings had been reduced to charred piles of wood from the initial fires left raging during the invasion. Smoke still rose from some far in the distance as the final embers of the inferno had yet to be fully extinguished. The two men did not let her linger long to look around, forcing her forward. They marched her through the streets, giving her nothing to keep any sense of modesty, letting any and all see her naked form on full display. Yet the only people she saw were equine, not a mink among those watching her being marched forward.\n\nWhen she looked up, she knew why she saw none of her own people. Lining the streets were morbid displays, bodies left tied to stakes, most of them carved into pieces. She looked back at the ground, not wanting to see more of her people's mutilated corpses. A part of her wondered what happened to her father and mother, but she was probably better off not knowing. She would likely be joining them soon enough. She could think of no other reason for them dragging her out into the streets like this.\n\nShe was led to what used to be the plaza at the center of the city. It had been used for festivals in the past. Now only a raised wooden stage sat near the middle, a large crowd of the equine soldiers gathered around it on one side. She was led up the stairs onto the stage, a single man waiting for her. The same man in the more ornate armor she had been led to before. He ushered the other soldiers away, then put a hand on her shoulder, shoving her down. She fell to her knees in front of the crowd, too tired to resist. Her once ornately kept silver hair hung around her head limp and dirty, the beaded jewels still left on her as almost a mockery of what they had once meant. Her breasts swung slightly, still on full display for all to see. And with how she was forced to kneel on the elevated platform, most in the crowd would likely see her slit, still coated from the many uses that had been left inside of her.\n\nThe man started to speak, his voice loud as he spoke to the crowd. She still did not know the words, but she did catch her own name spoken. The crowd let out a cheer when he was done speaking. She did not bother looking at any of them, her tired eyes staring only down at the wood in front of her. The man spoke again, this time seemingly to her. She did not respond, having no idea what was said. A hand gripped her hair, yanking her head up to force her to look at the crowd. He spoke again his words both harsh and taunting... whatever they meant. The masses she was force to look at all cheered again. Her head was thrown forward once again, and she returned to looking at the stage in front of her knees.\n\nThen the pain came. It struck the back of her neck, traveling all the way through to the front. It came as a burning heat as well as an odd coldness, and a sudden inability to get a breath. All the agony of her body vanished, replaced by a cold numbness below the searing pain, all within a sense of wrongness. Her world started to shift without her moving, and she saw in front of her a curved blade swinging outward, away from her, covered in blood. Her own blood. Her world continued to tilt and tumble as her head fell away from her shoulders, severed by the clean strike.\n\nIt struck the stage a moment later, rolling just slightly to lay on the side. At an odd, sideways angle, she was given a view of her body. Great arcs of crimson liquid sprayed from the severed stump of her neck, strands of her silver hair cut with her neck falling onto the stage. Her body started to shake and tremble as it lost the connection to her head, falling over to the side as it started to thrash about. Her large breasts wobbled and bounced about, her body struggling as if to deny its impending death. The crowd cheered again, but she could no longer hear them, only a ringing in her ears as she watched her body shamefully flopping about like a freshly caught fish on the deck of a boat, splashing her blood all over the platform.\n\nThere was a strange tugging atop her head, and her world was once more moving on its own. A hand gripped her chopped hair, lifting her head by it and holding it high for all to see. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, tears she had thought she no longer had streaming freely, soaking into her fur. Her vision clouded over, an experience she had grown familiar with from the repeated near-death rapes of her throat. Only this time, there was nothing to stop it, her vision going cloudy and blurry. Her only solace was that her torment was finally over.\n\nBut she was not spared one final agony. Even as she was rapidly fading, she felt her world moving as she was cared and lifted again. Two hands gripped her head on either side, and she felt a nauseating rapid movement. Then she felt the tip of a wooden spike pierce the base of her throat at the back of her mouth. The pain continued upwards, until her vision exploded into stars and colors and sounds and smells, the spikes ripping through her brain as her head was rammed onto it. By the time the tip pierced out the top of her skull, what had been Alana Sorendain was gone, finally allowed to die.\n\nHer body lasted longer, the thrashing slowing to twitches and shivers, the blood pouring freely from the stump of her neck until it slowed to a slow drool once her heart finally gave out. The leader of the invaders was not done with it. With several heavy chops, her arms, then legs were removed. Her torso was then lifted, the crowd cheering for the total destruction of the last noble of the land. The man smiled as he kept her held up. He would soon have her torso taken to his private quarters, which had once been the former king's bed chambers. Alana's mother's corpse was already in there, his personal plaything for the last week. But was showing signs of decay. He would replace it with the princess for now, raping the meat that was left of her before she also went bad. Then it was time to move on, and find a new land to invade.\n\n[center]* * *[/center]", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "
Coffee Break Story

Royal Humiliation

By XP Author


She promised herself she wouldn't cry. Even when the invading army broke through into the palace. Princess Arana Sorendain watched as her father, tried to hold off the equine soldiers that charged into the throne room. The mink king had been a great warrior in his youth, and his sword skills were still great. He cut down one after another. But age had slowed him, and the enemy was great in number. He was soon overwhelmed, small opening leading to cuts getting through. Then a spear pierced his chest, followed by another. He did not fall until near a dozen were stuck into him, but fall he still did, his royal blood spilled upon the marble floor of the throne room.

Her mother fared no better. She was no warrior, and yet she still picked up a sword and cleaved one of the soldiers across the chest, spilling his guts upon the marble. It was the only attack that succeeded, a sword piercing through her back, the tip emerged from between her breasts. She fell as it was drawn free, crawling to her dead husband. Arana watched her mother die beside her father. And then the hands grabbed her. The men spoke, but she did not understand their guttural language. They dragged her before some other soldier in much fancier armor. Likely a leader of men. Possibly the leader of the invaders, she did not know. Still, she refused to shed tears in front of him, holding her head high and awaiting him striking her down as her parents had been.

Instead, she was dragged away. She was taken to a place she had rarely visited, the dungeons. The threw her into a cell, locking the door. They did not even bother to clap her in irons. She was no threat to them, and they knew it. Even if she were to escape, the invaders occupied the palace and the city as a whole. The dungeons were not deep underground, and so she could still hear the sound of fighting outside for some time. More, she heard the sounds of screams as her people were cut down. Fire as the buildings were burnt to the ground. But the silence that came after was somehow worse.

She was not sure how long she was in the cell for. Hours certainly. Possibly more than a day. None came to check on her in that time. Nor did they come to feed her. Only once did she need to relieve herself, thankful none could see the shameful act. They had not even given her the courtesy of a bucket, so she simply had to piss into the straw in the corner of the cell. At first she thought they meant to break her, but as the time dragged on, she thought they had forgotten. Or perhaps they simply threw her down here to die slowly. Her greater hope was there was some counter attack happening in secret, and soon a savior would come to set her free.

Her hopes were dashed when a pair of equine soldiers came into the dungeon eventually. They reeked of alcohol, their uniforms disheveled from their drunken revelry. They spoke to her in their foreign tongue again, the words slurred. Yet even not knowing what they were saying, she knew by their tone they were taunting her. She turned her head away, not wanting to look at them. She kept as much poise as she could in the situation. She was a daughter of Sorendain. She would not beg for her life to these common thugs. They seemed to take that as an insult, one getting an angrier tone with her.

Then the cell door opened. Large hands grasped at her, shoving her down to the ground. Then they started to pull at her dress, ripping it open down her back. She still tried to hold her tongue, but then grew more violent, shoving her about to tear her clothing away. She tried to cover herself as her ample breasts were exposed, but a boot connected with the side of her face, sending her slumping to the ground in a daze. She still clenched her jaw as they continued to rip her clothing away. Soon, she was left bare, white fur and svelte body exposed for them to see. The only adornment they left was the beaded string of jewels in her long silver hair, the symbol of her station as princess.

The hands grabbed at her again, groping at her body. She clenched her jaw tight, squeezing her eyes shut as the drunken soldiers roughly fondled her breasts, rear, legs, and tail. She would not scream for them. That was what she promised herself. A promise she could not keep. A cock suddenly prodded at her now exposed slit, and with a hard thrust, speared deep inside of her, robbing her of her virginity. The equine rod was far too large for the 19 year old mink to take, even if she was willing. It spread her inner walls painfully wide, ripping her as the man started to thrust into her over and over. She finally broke her promise and screamed in pain.

That was a mistake, as the second man took the chance to stuff his own cock into her opened mouth. The taste was foul, but worse was how it stuffed down into her throat, painfully cutting off her air. Her eyes went wide as the man gripped at her ears to yank her head forward, cramming himself even deeper. The urge to throw up was great, her throat instinctively clenching over and over to try and eject the invading obstruction, but the man held firm. The two laughed, taunting her again once again. Her head started to grow foggy from the lack of air, her chest growing hot as a burning need for air filled her lungs instead. Her heart pounded as her hearing faded to the rushing of blood, a ringing rising to obscure all sound. Clouds of darkness started to fog her vision, punctuated by periodic sparks of light that were not there.

Her eyes clouded over as she struggled to stay conscious. She was not sure, but she might have tried to strike at the legs of the man in front of her. Behind her, the other man was still ramming himself into her, his flared tip striking the deepest reaches of her pussy. Even on her knees, her legs failed her, and she was kept from falling completely to the floor only by the grip on her hips. The world started to fade as the lack of air overwhelmed her, and she was sure this is how she would die. That was when the man in her throat came, the cock throbbing and pulsing as it shot his spunk deep down her throat and into her belly. She was only dimly aware of it, or that the other man raping her was also cumming, filling her pussy with his own load, enough to leak out around the shaft and drool down her thighs.

Just as quickly as it had entered her, the cock in her throat was ripped free. She immediately started to cough and spit up gobs of semen, tainted slightly pinkish from whatever damage he had done to her throat in the process. The man behind her pulled out a moment later, the cum drooling from her pussy even more red from her blood. They both let her go, and she collapsed to the cold stone floor, coughing and retching, gasping for the air so long denied. The two laughed at her as the wiped themselves off on her fur, leaving streaks of bloodied cum on her back. The laughter continued as they left her there, naked, hacking and coughing on the floor. It was there that she broke her first promise, tears soaking into her fur.

They would not be the last soldiers to use her. Over the next several days, more men would come down to see her. They would use her mouth, her pussy, her ass, fuck between her tits, or simply jerk off and spray their load onto her. Her once pristine white fur was left filthy from dirt, as well as matted and clumped from the tried cum soaked into it. Someone would bring her water sparingly. Just enough for her to keep from dying of thirst. The water tasted almost as foul as the shafts and loads dumped down her throat, like it had been taken from a livestock trough instead of a well. They gave her no food, save the loads she was forced to consume, most of which she spat back up in a fit of retching coughs. They always made her drink the water first before using her mouth, so the taste was forced to linger.

She was not sure how many days this went on. She rarely got the chance to sleep as the men kept coming to rape her. She had more than once been woken by a man stuffing himself inside of one hole or another. She was so tired. She had long given up hope of rescue. All she wanted to do was go to sleep and pretend this nightmare was just that, that she might wake in her bed. Soon, she did not even have the energy to even drink the water they provided. It had to be poured down her throat twice, a hand clamping on her muzzle to force her to swallow. She wondered if she could let herself drown, but instincts made her swallow.

Then it all stopped. Yet she could get no rest, left numb on the floor. A bowl of water was left on the floor in front of her. She could not even bring herself to lift her head to drink. She closed her eyes, but no sleep came. Everything was left in too much agony from the repeated uses. She did not open her eyes as she heard the boots coming into the room. Her brief rest was over. As the door opened, she expected the next man to start using her. While two pairs of hands did grab her, they did not shove her over for another rape. Instead, they both dragged her up onto her feet, though still had to support her as she could barely stand.

With the faintest glimmer of hope, she forced her eyes to open and focus, wishing for the two men to be some of her people come to rescue her. Her faint last hope was shattered just as quickly as she saw the red uniform and chestnut fur of the equines dragging her out of the cell. One barked an order at her she did not understand, but the hand shoving against her back to force her to walk forward got the point across. She managed to walk, but not fast enough, the man shoving her again, nearly knocking her to the ground.

The two soldiers led her out, eventually onto the streets of the city itself. It was the first time since the invasion she had seen it. All around, buildings had been reduced to charred piles of wood from the initial fires left raging during the invasion. Smoke still rose from some far in the distance as the final embers of the inferno had yet to be fully extinguished. The two men did not let her linger long to look around, forcing her forward. They marched her through the streets, giving her nothing to keep any sense of modesty, letting any and all see her naked form on full display. Yet the only people she saw were equine, not a mink among those watching her being marched forward.

When she looked up, she knew why she saw none of her own people. Lining the streets were morbid displays, bodies left tied to stakes, most of them carved into pieces. She looked back at the ground, not wanting to see more of her people's mutilated corpses. A part of her wondered what happened to her father and mother, but she was probably better off not knowing. She would likely be joining them soon enough. She could think of no other reason for them dragging her out into the streets like this.

She was led to what used to be the plaza at the center of the city. It had been used for festivals in the past. Now only a raised wooden stage sat near the middle, a large crowd of the equine soldiers gathered around it on one side. She was led up the stairs onto the stage, a single man waiting for her. The same man in the more ornate armor she had been led to before. He ushered the other soldiers away, then put a hand on her shoulder, shoving her down. She fell to her knees in front of the crowd, too tired to resist. Her once ornately kept silver hair hung around her head limp and dirty, the beaded jewels still left on her as almost a mockery of what they had once meant. Her breasts swung slightly, still on full display for all to see. And with how she was forced to kneel on the elevated platform, most in the crowd would likely see her slit, still coated from the many uses that had been left inside of her.

The man started to speak, his voice loud as he spoke to the crowd. She still did not know the words, but she did catch her own name spoken. The crowd let out a cheer when he was done speaking. She did not bother looking at any of them, her tired eyes staring only down at the wood in front of her. The man spoke again, this time seemingly to her. She did not respond, having no idea what was said. A hand gripped her hair, yanking her head up to force her to look at the crowd. He spoke again his words both harsh and taunting... whatever they meant. The masses she was force to look at all cheered again. Her head was thrown forward once again, and she returned to looking at the stage in front of her knees.

Then the pain came. It struck the back of her neck, traveling all the way through to the front. It came as a burning heat as well as an odd coldness, and a sudden inability to get a breath. All the agony of her body vanished, replaced by a cold numbness below the searing pain, all within a sense of wrongness. Her world started to shift without her moving, and she saw in front of her a curved blade swinging outward, away from her, covered in blood. Her own blood. Her world continued to tilt and tumble as her head fell away from her shoulders, severed by the clean strike.

It struck the stage a moment later, rolling just slightly to lay on the side. At an odd, sideways angle, she was given a view of her body. Great arcs of crimson liquid sprayed from the severed stump of her neck, strands of her silver hair cut with her neck falling onto the stage. Her body started to shake and tremble as it lost the connection to her head, falling over to the side as it started to thrash about. Her large breasts wobbled and bounced about, her body struggling as if to deny its impending death. The crowd cheered again, but she could no longer hear them, only a ringing in her ears as she watched her body shamefully flopping about like a freshly caught fish on the deck of a boat, splashing her blood all over the platform.

There was a strange tugging atop her head, and her world was once more moving on its own. A hand gripped her chopped hair, lifting her head by it and holding it high for all to see. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, tears she had thought she no longer had streaming freely, soaking into her fur. Her vision clouded over, an experience she had grown familiar with from the repeated near-death rapes of her throat. Only this time, there was nothing to stop it, her vision going cloudy and blurry. Her only solace was that her torment was finally over.

But she was not spared one final agony. Even as she was rapidly fading, she felt her world moving as she was cared and lifted again. Two hands gripped her head on either side, and she felt a nauseating rapid movement. Then she felt the tip of a wooden spike pierce the base of her throat at the back of her mouth. The pain continued upwards, until her vision exploded into stars and colors and sounds and smells, the spikes ripping through her brain as her head was rammed onto it. By the time the tip pierced out the top of her skull, what had been Alana Sorendain was gone, finally allowed to die.

Her body lasted longer, the thrashing slowing to twitches and shivers, the blood pouring freely from the stump of her neck until it slowed to a slow drool once her heart finally gave out. The leader of the invaders was not done with it. With several heavy chops, her arms, then legs were removed. Her torso was then lifted, the crowd cheering for the total destruction of the last noble of the land. The man smiled as he kept her held up. He would soon have her torso taken to his private quarters, which had once been the former king's bed chambers. Alana's mother's corpse was already in there, his personal plaything for the last week. But was showing signs of decay. He would replace it with the princess for now, raping the meat that was left of her before she also went bad. Then it was time to move on, and find a new land to invade.

*     *     *
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