Black and Green: Three Days of Rotor Hell
Two hours had passed since you and I—Black and Green—Silveryia had plastered rotors all over Lenaris's body and left the cell. Bzzzzzzzzz—! The dizzying vibration hummed like swarming insects in her ears, while the toys quivered relentlessly across her flesh.
"Hoo... Did you really think toys like these would break me? Hmph, you humans..."
Becoming a guardian knight demanded unyielding resolve to face peril at every turn. Thus, before taking up the mantle, dark elves underwent rigorous training: studying the tortures inflicted by enemies, enduring mock sessions that mimicked real agony. Slicing skin with blades, ripping out nails, immersion in ice water for sleepless nights—these were trials every aspiring dark elf guardian knight had to survive.
The moment she laid eyes on that brutish orc's face, the instant she realized she was back in his clutches, Lenaris had steeled herself for her fate. She imagined the savage, cruel, wicked beast subjecting her to unimaginable torments, toying with her as his plaything. No matter the torture, the pain—no matter if it cost her virginity—she vowed to endure, to escape this hell.
But "Hrrmph...!" what is this?!
No razor-sharp blades or searing irons. Just these thumb-sized curiosities, obvious toys to anyone. What in the world were they? After that human woman left the cell, the rotors erupted in frenzy across every crevice of her body, and Lenaris unwittingly let slip a vulgar moan.
She hadn't known rotors served this purpose, but with her face spared and the rest of her body buzzing in unison, this novel form of torment(?) caught her utterly off-guard, with no resistance built up.
Yet she was an elite assassin among dark elves. This level of stimulation was child's play compared to her past training—she could endure it. Or so she thought, until bzzzzz, bzzzzz, bzzzzzzzzz—!!!
"Grraaahh?! W-what's happening in my... ass?!"
She could tolerate the rotors on her collarbone, nipples, armpits, elbows, toes, and behind her knees—any erogenous zone worth the name. But just as she adjusted, the five rotors crammed in her anus and the two in her pussy kicked into overdrive, like they were thrilled to torment her. Controlling her body and senses to suppress the sensations was driving Lenaris mad.
And worse: 'The... sheath's clashing...!' The knife sheath hidden in her anus rattled against the rotors, the metal's unique vibrations teasing her walls. Perhaps from years of training to clench and release around her concealed blade for quick access, her ever-sensitive anus was—sorry as it was to say—a literal ass pussy.
That vicious Silveryia had even locked a chastity belt on her, anticipating any attempt to remove the anal rotors...
'I can endure. I will endure...!' Lenaris vowed, over and over.
But life never bends to one's will, does it?
"Haah, heeeek, hngggg!!"
Silveryia truly didn't return for three full days. And despite Lenaris's ironclad resolve, her mouth betrayed her with the sweet, whimpering moans and nasal grunts of a pleasure-wracked bitch.
'So sleepy... throat's parched... stomach's empty...'
Even before being shipped here, Lenaris had rarely known a proper meal. As worthless stock to the slavers—barely worth the auction fee—she'd been lucky to eat once a day. And during the days of transport to this place, she'd seen no food at all.
Seizing lulls in the rotors' vibrations to nap and conserve energy, she'd barely managed catnaps before they rampaged again. In her already frail state, three days without a drop of water, a bite of food, or real sleep had wrecked her.
Her noble dark elf princess spirit wouldn't break, even in death, she swore. But her body had other ideas.
'No more strength... in my body...'
She'd gritted through two days on sheer spite, but past midnight on the third, her body surrendered. Ignoring her mind's protests, it began welcoming the pleasure seeping into every corner.
'N-no... I don't want to feel it...!'
As she writhed against the wall, rotors droning, a voice purred: "Hehehe, you've got such a nice face now?"
"..."
Silveryia appeared, mocking Lenaris's wretched state. A dildo stuffed in her pussy wasn't enough; she sucked greedily at orc cum caked on her fingers, one by one.
But Lenaris barely registered the ridicule. Her eyes locked on something else: 'What... what is she eating?' Those white globs on her hand. In her right mind, she'd have recognized the foul, sticky semen instantly. But starvation and exhaustion clouded her: 'Me too... just a little...'
Gulp. Lenaris swallowed, salivating unconsciously at the sight. She couldn't even judge what it was. Hunger had devoured her reason.
"Smooch, smooch. Hm? Want some?"
"..."
"Hehe, had fun with the rotors for three days? Oh my, look at this puddle on the floor."
Dehydration had set in hard. Silveryia approached with lewd hip sways, oblivious or uncaring. Then a shout echoed from somewhere:
—Mom!!
"Oh? What's up? Hold on."
Trouble in the opposite cell? Yesterday had been noisy with comings and goings—who? And mom? The voice sounded near Silveryia's age.
Intelligence was paramount, always. Even if she died here, she had to leave intel on this den of depravity for future dark elves. Struggling to lift her head again—
"Hehe, that girl... Oh?"
"..."
Silveryia returned almost immediately.
"What, trying to escape?"
"..."
Silveryia closed in, gripped her chin, traced her cracked lips.
"Hm... I was gonna starve you more to break you, but you're in bad shape."
Can't let her die, but no food or water yet. Silveryia pondered.
"Ah!"
She sprang up, yanked the dildo from her pussy. Grabbing Lenaris's limp head—
"Ubuh?!" 'What are you doing?!'
—and jammed it into her crotch. Lenaris's eyes bulged.
"Thought of the perfect way. Trains your habits and quenches your thirst!"
"Ububuh?!"
No way, no way—!
"Now, drink it all up? Don't take it personally—once you're Master's sow, this is basic."
"Ububububub!!"
She thrashed in refusal, but her body instinctively sought moisture, mashing into Silveryia's pussy. Lenaris shuddered desperately.
"Ubuh! Ubuh!" 'No! No!'
"Just like Master said! Mouth says no, but the body's honest, huh?"
Yet there she was, lips parted at the urethra. Mind screaming denial, her body—pushed to the brink—craved survival above all.
"Drink every drop? Thirst'll come back, but better than nothing."
Petting her head like a dog, Silveryia ignored her pleading eyes. Then—psssshhhh—
"Ubuh—?!"
Gulp, gulp. Yellow piss gushed from Silveryia's pussy. Don't drink! Don't! She willed her face away, but her body disobeyed. If anything, she pressed closer, desperate not to spill a drop. Survival trumped revulsion; when else would she taste liquid?
Gulp, gulp, gulp.
"Ahahaha! That's it! Swallow whatever enters your mouth without hesitation! Then Master'll love you!"
"Ubbubububu!!"
"Savor it! Pretend I'm Master, and this is orc piss!"
'This... woman! She's serious! Not just breaking me—she wants me as the orc's toilet for real!'
What horrors had forged her? Terrifying. Utterly terrifying.
But first, this disgusting, hot flood filling her mouth—she couldn't remember the taste. Couldn't let the sensation linger.
Yet to a desert flower, what mattered if it quenched her thirst—water or piss? As Silveryia commanded, Lenaris drank every last drop.
"Haa... haa..."