BG: Left to forge a path alone to bring the artifact back to the Sharran Enclave, Shadowheart finds that the mysterious object she carries isn't what her foes are most interested in: it's her body.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shadowheart was alone. Completely, utterly alone. There was a tadpole in her head and a magic relic that served as the only thing keeping at bay a total corruption of her mind and body by the illithids, a situation that had spiraled totally out of control and left her with little to do but try at any cost to get back to the Sharran temple and complete her mission, to earn back her memories and have the best chance she could get at earning Mother Superior's favour. It just would have been nice were she perhaps not completely alone in the far-flung wilderness, left to have to fight her way back to Baldur's Gate with only the things she could scrounge up or loot from her enemies. It was slow, it was exhausting, and were she not gifted with divine magic from Shar she most assuredly would have faltered by now.
Pushing for all the ground she could gain was a gruelling mess of frustration, combat, and sneaking. The encampment of Tieflings and druids had given her some relief and a chance to trade for supplies with some of what she'd been able to scrounge off of bodies and her enemies, but shew was still fundamentally lost to the whims of her own wandering afterward as she approached a defiled Selunite temple overrun by goblins. The people of the grove wanted her to do something to prevent the goblins from attacking them, and Shadowheart was to some degree sympathetic, or perhaps hopeful that she could earn some gratitude and money in exchange for her efforts. Something to justify compassion when she was at her most sour and most embittered.
Sneaking into the defiled sanctum, she used the tadpole in her head as a bluff to get past the goblins and deeper into the sanctum, piecing together some sense of who was in charge here. Three captains, two of whom were goblins, one of whom was a Drow that Shadowheart expected would be significantly more difficult to deceive. Not impossible, to be sure, but the intelligence of an actual person offered a lot more difficulty than she was expecting. Goblins were easy to fool. Stupid. A Paladin was something else, and Shadowheart approached with a tense, fraying uncertainty that she could talk her way past Minthara. She had to try, though.
It was a shame she was a terrible liar, and that Minthara saw right through her.
Now, ropes held Shadowheart's arms behind her back as she was dragged out into the open air of the goblin camp and made an example of, stuffed nice and deep full of Drow girlcock. It was so abrupt in the sudden turn from failed espionage to getting dicked down that Shadowheart didn't really know what to make of any of it. The deep and relentless slams from Minthara filled her up, vengeful and furious under the harsh aggression and the warmth to keep falling in to. Merciless, greedy attention slammed mercilessly into her, underscoring for her thoughts the miserable realization that she was giving in to now. Deeper embarrassment and chaos kept her in a foggy spot in struggled weirdness, attentions overbearing and forceful, demanding from her more than she was ready to face. Shadowheart couldn't even say for sure how long it had been since she had sex, but as the thick cock rammed into her, she knew it had been an unbearably long time.
"Moan for me, you treacherous whore, and I may spare you for the entertainment you provide me." Hissing in sharp and domineering hunger, Minthara looked down at Shadowheart with pure disdain, one hand reaching for her breasts and fondling her in relentless greed. She was overbearing as a point, driven to make the poor wreck writhe under her touch and falter underneath the persistence and the shame awaiting her. "It is nothing short of insulting that you would even believe I would fall for such paltry lies."
"I'm sorry," gasped Shadowheart, for what little good or sense that offered her, a crushing misery building hotter out of control while the thick cock ravaged her. She was in a place of desperate, frantic worry now, struggling through the overbearing shames and the heats that continued driving her mad with worry. She was in such a hopeless place under Minthara's scrutiny, hopeless and ashamed while the thick cock ravaged her, the persistence and the worsening storm of this heat leaving her in a place of utter madness. She could do nothing to make this slow down. Unstoppable pressure imposed on Shadowheart something she felt powerless to make sense of, struggling to handle any effort to push back against all of it, wondering if she was strong enough.
"A sex toy is better than a corpse, don't you think?" Minthara continued, toying harder with Shadowheart's nipple, occasionally slapping down across her face with a venomous message for the cleric. Everything she did was a forceful push into escalating passion int the greedy persistence she refused to slow down, making a worse and worse mess of confusion for Shadowheart to have to give in to. The earnest, ugly truth of her downfall was that Shadowheart had no power to stop all of this, sliding into dizzier shame. With full control over this situation and all the advantage she could ask for, Minthara focused ever harder on the harsh reality she could impose upon Shadowheart, the storm of disdain and aggression to force her deeper. Control was of the utmost importance to Minthara in doling out this punishment, violating her captive and making her shudder in dizzier, miserable panic.
Goblins watched, cheering on one of their leaders in the violation of the pale beauty in front of them. Many of them started to touch themselves, some even drawing in closer with their grubby hands on their cocks, feverishly beating off while they watched this madness play out in darker insistence, the truly insane pressure to continue pursuing. "Stay away from me," Shadowheart hissed, which only earned her a slap across the face from Minthara.
"You do not give them orders, I do. Come in closer, all of you. You have my permission to cum all over my whore." Snarling through the greed and the persistence of this moment, she continued to throw her hips hard into the chaos and the writhing, greedy attention she paid Shadowheart. Anger fuelled her, driving her disdain to focus on the idea that she could defile and degrade Shadowheart harder, make her suffer with worsening attentions and a trembling panic miserably storming across her. This was the time for Minthara to lay on thick the harsh and ugly reality of her attentions. She would make something of Shadowheart. Not much of something, to be sure, but a toy for her own enjoyment would grant her something she could appreciate.
Her twisted power play only made weirder and worse the hopeless throb of panic that Shadowheart had to live through, watching Goblins beating off over her and trembling through the continued shames that left her hopeless and embarrassed. She could do nothing to stop the despair throbbing within her. Her pussy yielded to the thick cock and her body sank into shakier panic. She The senseless pressure of guilty sexual gratification was buried under a truly hopeless pressure miserably demanding more from her, carrying her to the ugliest and messiest of attentions. Feeling the overbearing misery of being trapped in all of this. Her body thrashed and shuddered through worsening attention, the panicked chaos leaving her feeling more miserable and baffled, the overbearing confusion and the heat of falling to pieces, ashamed of the simple pressure forcing her into hopeless misery now.
Torn apart by throbbing shame and growing louder in her agony, Shadowheart stared into Minthara's eye, met with disdain and overbearing hate. She didn't know what to think of it, struggling under the worst and most hopeless of feelings. Shadowheart's crumbling, ashamed, exhausted worries left her in a place of utter agony, the crumbling misery that she was doomed to fall in to. Her pussy squeezed down around the cock in pleading excitement against her will, leaving her to shudder in dizzier panic, ashamed of the pressure continuing to drive her crazy, forcing her into the throes of a heat and a shame and a misery she was doomed to fall in to. Her orgasm was a swell of persistent chaos, shameful and intense beyond control, something she fell in to now under the ugliest of worries.
Minthara was happy to capitalize on this with a sharp, senseless slam forward, driven by harsh aggression and greed now. Minthara let out a mighty, gleeful hiss as she pumped cum deep into the needy wreck of a woman. "Embarrassing. You're cumming from this?" Smugly, she pumped a load deep into her, readily starting on the wicked pressure and the insistence of a greed she could make the most of. Minthara's hot spunk filled Shadowheart's womb, providing another layer f shame and misery for her to trash under, the miserable heat and embarrassment that left her in a place of total agony. The snickering Goblins added on to it with an eruption of hot spunk all over her, raining down ropes of sticky Goblin cum onto her skin, making a worse and worse mess of her in the name of pure aggression, greedy beyond reason and senselessly pursuing the pressure of letting go.
Shadowheart trembled in disgust and dismay under all this attention, the shames and the miseries of crumbling embarrassment, left trembling in disgust and shame, the clumsiness of being lost to this. Her body trembled, tears welling in her eyes, body trapped in the senselessness and the agony of pure embarrassment, knowing she had no answer for the shames upon her and the weight of a senseless worry she was utterly powerless to handle. Goblin jizz was just the ugly pressure laid on top of the shames awaiting her, something grinding down her thoughts to a mess of pure worry, the insane weight of persistence and heat leaving her loathing everything about what happened to her and about her failures, but knowing that the only hope she had of continuing on and getting out of here was going to be to let Minthara keep using her.
The Paladin rolled her around, giving Shadowheart's ass a smack and holding her up using the ropes holding her arms behind her back. "Let's see how much you can take. You are too pretty to throw away."
****************************************
How Shadowheart had dragged herself out of the goblin sanctum was still nothing short of a miracle she struggled to even really understand herself. She'd slipped away into the Underdark through the defiled Selunite temple and dragged herself across the peril of such a dangerous place, through the Gyrmforge, and into the Shadow-Cursed Lands. It was tiring, it was fraught with danger, and she wasn't sure how she'd done it for absolute certain, but she eventually found herself resting with the Harpers and the Flaming Fists at the Last Night Inn. It was the first meaningful refuge she'd had since the druids, who she had failed to rescue from the goblins after they took her prisoner, but the weight of that shame over her was something she refused to shoulder the burden of. She was but one woman, with a mission that overtook the importance of anything else in her path.
Finally, some allies. That was the hope, at least. The only real chance she had at having people with her to help her along with this hell. Once Jaheira came to trust her and her ability to repel the influence of the tadpole in her head, she was folded in to the plans to attack the Cult of the Absolute. The spell protecting the inn was being channeled by a Selunite priestess, which would have led to some strife from Shadowheart at any time in her life but this one; she was too tired, too sore. She let it slide in a state of utter dread, understanding survival to be what mattered most. She could overlook a lot if Isobel could. They didn't need to be friends, they just needed to coexist.
It was all a nice-sounding sentiment up until the moment that Marcus betrayed them all.
Winged Horrors descended upon the settlement without warning, snatching Isobel and flying off with her while tearing apart the rest of the inn and the people defending it. Marcus was a traitor, a tadpoled spy for the Cult of the Absolute, and he sprang his betrayal on them at the worst moment for Shadowheart, leaving her forced to try and defend these people she'd barely come to know, and in process, having to watch them die. The only friendly faces she had seen in weeks. Their screams were agonizing, but Shadowheart was spared the carnage for one simple reason: Marcus wanted her.
The winged abomination who was once a man held Shadowheart's ponytail using it like a handle while forcing her down onto her hands and knees, fucking her from behind while he forced her to watch the inn burn. "There is no use in fighting. Come back with me willingly, and you'll live,: he said while plundering her tight hole with his cock. "I'd rather fuck the cleric brat, but I'm not allowed to touch her, so you'll do."
"Why thank you," hissed Shadowheart through gritted teeth. Feeling his cock pound mercilessly into her was an awful sensation, but being told she was his second best choice made it all the worse, crushing and agonizing, leaving her drained under the persistence and panic she was forced to fall in to, doomed to struggle her way into these miserable attentions, the crushing heat making her feel worse and worse about the dark pressure keeping this all up. Being raped by the man who had just ripped apart the settlement she'd been hiding out in seemed the most miserable and most agonizing of thoughts, a prospect leaving her trembling through utter panic, disgusted, ashamed, faltering with less and less certainty of how to handle this all. It was terrifying, draining her thoughts and demoralizing her with the continued chaos all wearing her down.
Smacks across her ass made her gasp out in surprise, but the crushing agonies and the worries of this all left her in a place of dizzy agony, the pressure and the worries leaving her in a place more and more baffled by the second. Shadowheart had no clue how to manage this, the worries melting her thoughts down into agony and forcing her to lose herself further and further down. Marcus pounded on recklessly in careless greed, the urgency and the desire greedily sending him to want to really lay waste to her. His greed was overbearing, driven by efforts to undermine her and to make her unravel for the ugliness to follow, relentless agonies and shames keeping up the worsening panics awaiting her. "Keep taking it,"{ he hissed, ugly persistence keeping him moving quicker, wilder, stuffing his cock into her with no idea how to slow down and no interest in holding back.
"You're a monster," she growled, clutching at the ground, digging her nails into the dirt in her rage, unsure to what end she did anything, but struggling through stubborn, teeth-gritting misery, trying desperately to fight off the agonizing certainty keeping her feeling terrible. Shadowheart felt dread like she had never known it before, the miseries leaving her in a place of profound agony, wondering how to manage the exhaustion and finding it impossible to make sense of just how agonizing a situation she'd found herself in. Impotent fury bubbled up inside of her, the draining agony leaving her in a place of deeper shame, panicked beyond sense and hating how deeply challenged she was by this utter mess. She found herself in such a mess of shame and confusion, the worsening attentions and the chaos she was doomed to keep falling in to.
Pleasure undercut her fury, a grim of things making her feel worse, keeping her painfully aware at each second of passing shame that she was forced to give in to fucking all of it. There was just no sense of how to contain this, the crushing worries inviting her to feel worse, to hate more of this. Her body was imposed upon by Marcus in his worst and most feverish attentions, the greedy pressures leaving her to fall in to the crushing miseries here. She hated how it felt for the pleasures within it that undermined her focus and made her feel worse about the simple, throbbing heat getting the better of her. She wanted to be fiercer and stronger than she was, feeling the pure worry insisting down upon her with grinding chaos. Agonizing worries left her too certain for her own good that she had no way through all of this.
"My new trophy whore needs her attitude fixed," snarled Marcus, keeping up his relentless aggression, the greed and chaos carrying him to keep pushing on for more, the worsening attention carrying him to really lay waste to her, the crushing worries and insanity to keep him wanting to throw himself into this all. Harder, messier fever carried him to keep rushing on rougher, messy persistence and aggression keeping him in a place of utter dominance. He held tight control over this situation, the crushing intensity and aggression guiding him to keep wanting more, to keep throwing his weight into the rush of pressure and chaos ruining completely.
Shadowheart's sobs were noisy and only gave him more of what he wanted. She fed his ego and gave him more to enjoy while falling into the throes of pure agony, aware above all else that she was doomed under all of this, struggling to make sense of these worries with less and less sense of how to make sense of all of it. She was doomed to keep falling, lost to the aimless agony and the pressure dragging her into worse and worse feelings.
"Carry my bastard, Elf!" he roared when he came. Marcus savoured the control he held over her, the dark and dismal insistence of his dominance that forced Shadowheart to fall to pieces. She was hopeless under his touch, unraveling for the sake of dizzier panic, awash in miseries and worries built on the foundation of simple agony now. His cock drove balls deep into her and let loose an eruption of hot, sticky spunk that sent her into agonizing, shrieking panic. Misery swept across Shadowheart, her body trapped in shuddering disgust, awash in feelings of true agony now as she learned the depths of shame awaiting her. She hated every second of this as the simple crush of agony leaving her to give in, the pressures and worries now of simple, hopeless shame. She hated every second of what hit her, but the trembling agonies and pressures within became something so shameful and agonizing that she felt she had no choice. Sensations drained her, left her going limp and ashamed. Cum filled her up and the dread of knowing what he had in mind for her, of fearing that he might knock her up, left her utterly ravaged.
Marcus's cock withdrew from her, and Shadowheart struggled to hold herself upright, so tired, so demoralized, ready to collapse and accept that the misery and weakness within her was just inevitable. Shadowheart sobbed, she shook, and her fingers seized hold of a knife, able to finally lash out against this. She was drained, shivering, ready to fight off something. She could get vengeance, but not much more than that. She'd survive, but survival seemed like less and less appealing a thought by the day as she dragged herself on to the miserable truth of fighting for every last step.
*************************************************
Shadowheart made it to Baldur's Gate.
It took multiple miracles, and she was certain that she should not have made it, putting her faith into Shar that divine intervention had protected her. Tired, alone, raped multiple times and sore beyond all sense, she returned to the Sharrans in Baldur's Gate, a meaningful triumph that had her exhausted body finally at the end of her draining misery. She had done so much and come so far, but she delivered the artifact to Mother Superior just as instructed, standing before Viconia with trembling, agonized certainty.
"I did it," she said, voice cracking under the exhaustion. "It was miserable, but my faith in Shar is unbreakable. Just as you asked, Mother Superior. A task that seemed almost impossible, but I survived to bring this now before you." She hoped desperately for praise. Never had she deserved it more. She was drained, terrified, barely hanging on, but now, she had hope again. Real hope. She stood there in shuddering misery, hoping for Viconia to reward her for her struggles and her troubles. Shadowheart had come so far and gone through so much, into the depths of agony and shame, where she had finally the hope of something she could deal with.
Viconia's lips curled up in a slow, dismissive mockery. "You have done well, and it is a surprise to me that you have made it back to me. I had come to believe you would fail even if you returned, and you have impressed far beyond expectation. It's simply a shame that I've already promised you away, for your failure, to another."
"Promised me away?" she asked.
The surprise came up from behind with a mighty roar, the mid-leap transformation of a werewolf who had been waiting behind her for the moment to strike. Shadowheart was driven down to the floor, left to shriek disgust and panic as the beast tore at her clothes and shifted against her, his canine cock shoving greedily against her thigh, making her gasp out in hotter worry while the cock lined up its shot. Shadowheart felt trapped in this miserable mess, unable to do anything to press back against all of this.
Shadowheart knew what was happening, and she didn't have it in her to fight any longer. She looked up at Viconia, knowing she'd been betrayed and feeling terrible about it. The last bits of hope in her melted away under the dark agony of what this offered her, a realization that all of her work, all her suffering, had earned her nothing in the end. No praise, no reward, no moment where she could come closer to her goal of becoming a Dark Justiciar. She was thrown to a werewolf, sold off in punishment despite her success as if her victory meant nothing to Mother Superior, and now she was forced to fall to pieces. Forced to break just a bit more.
"Your womb is his now; I've promised him the right to impregnate you," Viconia explained, standing over Shadowheart with scoffing dismissal.
The cock slammed finally into Shadowheart amid all those clumsy motions, and her screams were flattened down by a distinct sense of hopeless agony, the knowledge that she'd already lost, that there was nothing she could do to make this saner or better. The hopeless truth of this mess was something truly lost. Relentless, primal rutting started earnestly. the pent-up wolf man stuffing his canine cock into her with rushing attention. The bitter agony of this mess was something Shadowheart couldn't possibly escape from now, the crushing woes and shames of giving in to this now, the miserable heats and frustrations keeping her feeling awful, the crushing worries and the panics she was doomed to give in to, sloppy and hopeless panic keeping her trapped here. Her cunt yielded to the biggest punishment she had taken yet, the worry and the agony of things bearing brutally upon her with single-minded hate and an insistence she had no chance to fight off.
Panting, snarling, heaving heavily atop her, the werewolf was brutal in his reckless pressure, vigorously seeking senseless satisfactions without a shred of care, the unhesitating fever of throwing himself harder into this all. Shadowheart didn't try to fight it. There wasn't any point in fighting it. She'd been raped and betrayed and used, violated endlessly in the throes of things she was certain she had to accept. She was trapped in a miserable certainty, the knowledge and the shame of having to accept that she was doomed. Doomed with no dignity, no respect, no human worth. This werewolf was the last straw for someone who had overcome endless adversity jut to be rewarded with more suffering, and something inside of her was done hoping for anything better.
The pleasure was a miserable artifact buried in all of this that she simply let roll over her thoughts in crushing worries, a dark insistence leaving her all the worse-feeling while he fucked her. That anything so awful could feel good had become a simple additional layer of misery on top of everything else ruining her. She knew it to be the depths of her shame, and she was tired of trying to claw her way out of those depths. Back and forth her body worked in agonized misery, the shames carrying her to something truly beyond sense. Her body sank into shivering misery, into the worries of being fucked harder and rougher, taken into a fit of deeper misery, unable to stop these feelings in their most hopeless. It was too much, excessive beyond control and forcing her to fall into the miseries taking her. She was hopeless now, falling into wilder embarrassment and faced with a truly dismal mess to be consumed by.
"You don't even fight it," Viconia hissed. "Pathetic."
"Why bother?" Shadowheart steadied herself on the floor, feeling like holding herself upright was perhaps still more effort than it was worth giving in to. Shadowheart's pussy received the harsh attentions, the merciless strokes leaving her faltering harder, dizzy and agonized while the pressure pushed out of control. Nobody respected her dignity, with multiple people now raping her or happily playing accessory to the rape, leaving her so drained and so miserable in her acceptance of the simple panic leaving her powerless. She was done fighting it. "If people wish to rape me, so be it I cannot fight any longer."
Viconia's laughter was an extra insult laid over top these agonies, leaving Shadowheart slumped down in miserable acceptance of just how broken she was. The shame behind this was simple and deranged as could be. She'd been simply worn down beyond sense, demoralized so far that there was nothing left in her. "Then you shall carry this wolf man's bastard, and any others I so choose. Your life will be one as my personal whore to give out as rewards until I decide you have been all used up."
So be it. Shadowheart closed her eyes and sobbed only in miserable acceptance of the fate that had consumed her. The wolf man drilled harder into her, racing toward a finish, his swollen knot threatening her with something she just let happen. No fighting, no running, no begging for it to stop. There was no point. Shadowheart's memories had been taken from her and the life she'd been given was one of misery and rape, and the only mercy left for her would be of having those memories taken away too, not that she could believe that Mother Superior would be so kind to her.
Nothing would be kind to her. Nobody would be kind to her ever again. She accepted that just as she accepted the oversized wolf knot jamming into her cunt, locking her in amid the wolf's noisy howl of proud, vicious delight. She shook in disgust, trembling back and forth in agony and misery while the pressure imposed upon her everything. She took all of it, trapped in suffering while wolf jizz flooded her womb. The sex would continue until she was thoroughly impregnated, and the misery would continue until Shadowheart had been raped too numb to even think of this as the hell it was.