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Losing a fight is a bad thing on its own. Doing so and getting captured because she was brave or reckless enough to pursue several people on her own is a whole new category of bad. Especially when the ones she was after seem to feel like they have a score to settle and are not at all willing to negotiate. And why would they, really? The warrior of light is a heretic to them, after all, the one threatening their way of life, and now she finds herself at their mercy. Surrounded by the entire Heavens’ Ward, stripped bare, and with her wrists tightly bound behind her back, she has a horrible inkling of where this is going.
Ser Grinnaux is rough with her. It's not even a surprise. She has seen him fight before, after all. The moment she flinches from his touch, he slaps her face hard enough she tastes blood. His hand is in her hair, painfully pinching one of her sensitive ears before he grabs a handful and yanks her head back. She doesn't even have time to clench her lips shut before he pushes mercilessly into her mouth. She can't breathe, spluttering and choking as he plugs her throat, but all her flailing is for naught.
Behind her, someone grabs her harshly, and from the dark chuckle she hears as he pinches her skin, she knows it's Ser Charibert. He, too, makes no effort to be careful with her. More hands slide over her body, holding her immobile and spreading her legs apart, and no matter how hard she struggles, she can't even dislodge a single one of her captors. When Charibert grabs her tail, holding it to the side before he drives his cock into her cunt she would scream in pain if she weren't choking around another one at that moment. Her body isn't ready for this, not prepared in the least, and each of the men surrounding her is a lot bigger than she is. It hurts, and hot tears run down her cheeks as Charibert starts to move, driving her further onto Ser Grinnaux's cock with each brutal thrust.
"Move her a bit," comes the voice of Ser Ignasse, "a proper whore can take much more than this."
The words send a shiver of fear through her, but she can't protest. Even in the rare moments Grinnaux lets her breathe a bit so she won't pass out, her mouth is filled to the brim. They move her around, shifting her but never letting go, and then she hears the faint sound of someone spitting before a wet finger presses against her ass. Muffled sounds are all that manage to slip past her stretched lips, but none of the men around her seems to care. On the contrary, someone squeezes her breasts hard enough so she screams around the intrusion in her mouth. She hears nothing but laughter from all around her, someone cheering even.
"Do it again," comes a gleeful voice from somewhere above her. "Make her squeal."
Ser Grinnaux draws out of her mouth, hand still rough in her hair and holding her head as he looks at her. "I want to hear you scream for us," he says with a terrifying smile.
Someone hits her ass, someone else her thighs. None of the hits are light taps. No, these ones are designed to hurt. As are the two fingers roughly pumping into her ass now. It doesn't take long until they get replaced by another cock, and she screams at the top of her lungs as she gets taken almost dry.
Another takes Grinnaux's place, Ser Haumeric if she remembers it right, and he wastes no time taking her mouth and muffling her screams again. There is no fighting this, no moment where she can resist in a way that matters, and from the corners of her tear-strained eyes, she can see that each one of the knights is ready to have their way with her.
And they do. One by one, they use her, bending her body to their will. On the floor, against a wall, sometimes holding her up between several of them. They spill deep inside her, down her throat, and all over her face until she loses count of just how many of them had her already, perhaps more than once even.
"Look at her, taking it all so well," she hears Ser Paulecrain's voice like through a fog, and a moment later, he lifts her and sits her down on a table. "A really good whore should take some pleasure for herself, don't you agree?"
Fear runs through her as his hand slides between her legs, and while his fingers are rough, he is not actually hurting her for once. Instead, his hand does something unexpected, cleverly working up her bruised body towards something else entirely. Panic rises through her as she strains against her bonds, and hot tears of shame run down her cheek at the thought of her body being made to betray her.
"No, please," she whispers hoarsely, her voice almost breaking. "Please, don't..."
She doesn't get any further before Paulecrain slaps her again.
"The word no doesn't exist for you anymore, warrior of light," he sneers before his smile turns unbelievably cruel. "In fact, why don't you beg for me to make you come?" When she tries to shake her head, he grabs her chin in a painful grip while his other takes out a knife. "Beg me! Now! Unless you want me to cut out that tongue and feed it to you."
The knife is gleaming in the low light of the torches, and she knows without a doubt that this isn't an empty threat. There is nothing she can do, and with gnashing teeth, she has to swallow her pride.
"Please, Ser Knight, I..." she starts, voice nearly trailing off from how much she shivers and shakes in his grasp. "I beg you, make me come." She can't look up, eyes filled with tears of shame, but it seems to be enough for her captor. A moment later, the knife is out of sight, and he lets go of her face.
"Hold her, spread her legs so everyone can see how easy and depraved she truly is," Ser Adelphel orders, and then there are hands all over he body again, two grabbing her legs and spreading them wide, showing her abused cunt still dripping with their seed to everyone as Paulecrain finds the bundle of nerves between her folds and rubs harshly. If she was a stronger person, she could deny them the satisfaction, perhaps. At least she likes to think so, but after all of this, she has no more will to resist in her. She has no choice in the matter, and despite her best efforts, the touch manages to set her body on fire, no matter the pain she's in. With a desperate noise, she comes, shame flooding her along with the pleasure that makes her whole body shake, but no matter where she looks, she only sees leering faces gorging themselves on her humiliation.
She knows they aren't finished with her, not by a long shot, and she is still gasping for air as someone moves her again. Ser Zephirin turns her toward him now. Still holding one of her legs, he reaches for the other and bends them back, nearly folding her in half.
"We're going to fill you up, one after the other," he tells her with an almost pleasant-looking smile, now holding her legs in place by her ankles as he drags his hard cock against the mess between her legs. "Every day, maybe several times, always keeping you nicely stuffed." With a sharp snap of his hips, he enters her, filling her to the brim. "We are going to breed you like the animal that you are for as long as it takes. And then you can make up for all the good men of the church you killed by replacing each one of them."
Her eyes widen at the terrifying threat, but her beginning scream gets muffled when someone grabs her head and tilts it back, another cock sliding back into her throat, and this time, she doesn't fight it anymore when she feels her mind and her consciousness slip away.
It never ends. Each time she wakes up, it's to the feeling of one or more cocks pushing inside her body. They take her mouth, her cunt, or her ass, sometimes all three of them, and always until she is exhausted enough to pass out again. There is nothing else for her now anymore, just this.
Over time, they find new tricks to get her to scream for them. Whenever she thinks she is getting used to something, desensitized perhaps, someone changes things up, hurts her more, or finds new ways of making things unbearable.
She spends most of her days being collared and chained to the middle of a large round table, being passed around to amuse whoever wants to let off some steam, even during their more important meetings. At the start, she tries to listen, to save everything she hears for when she hopefully manages to break free, but after a while, even that becomes too exhausting. She has other things to do, a role to fulfill.
Each one of them revels in making her miserable, but sometimes they grant her a little reprieve. Whenever she manages to please someone exceptionally well, be it by her efforts or the rivers of tears they manage to coax from her, she gets to rest a little.
Today, Ser Noudenet has nearly chocked her to death several times, and large parts of her body are in various shapes of green and blue from being hit repeatedly, but she knows she took it well when Ser Hermenost draws her onto his lap after, cock sinking deeply into her as he just keeps her there now. Around them, other knights talk strategy, plan out the future for their beloved home, but she doesn't listen. All she does is lean against an armored chest with her eyes closed, breathing deeply. She knows he will just keep her like this for a while, patting her hair as he speaks with someone else and having her warm his cock until he is ready to continue. In these moments, she feels almost at peace, and she craves them more now than anything else. Soon enough, they will go back to making her life hell, but if she manages to bear that, she knows she might get another short reprieve, for which she will follow every order and suffer through every pain imaginable. She lives for these brief moments now, for her own, twisted, small piece of heaven.