Hey guys, here's chapter 3!

I know that there were a crap load of mistakes the last chapter, But as I stated, I'm not writing this fic alone so I tried this new thing on word and merged the documents. I didn't know what I was doing, and I didn't looked over the finished project so my bad. I promise it won't happen again.

To Sacha: I hope this answers your question.

To: Guest: That whole double sided Unohana thing was not our intent. Sorry.

To the rest of you. Read, Review and Enjoy!

Hey guys, for those of you who are reading my other stories, you have an idea of what type of stories I write and I'm letting you know now that this story is totally different from those. This is a collaboration story with Magdalena88 who happens to be an amazing writer also.

This is her profile link: u/1542372/Magdalena88

This story is based on ancient Scythain warrior women.

"NNNUUGGHHHH!" Ichigo bit his lips to keep from screaming out in pain.

The sound of his flesh tearing was louder than the crack of the whip.

He was currently tied to a post, his hands bounded in front of him. Sweat poured off him by the barrel, his entire body screamed in pain as it was lacerated.

He lost count after the twentieth lashing. He was dizzy and wanted nothing more than to vomit.

He didn't even know how long he was stuck in this God-forsaken city. It's been days, probably even weeks! He didn't know anymore. His days were filled with pain, sleep and wishing he could escape so he could murder each and every single bitch in this city. There were three he wanted to bash their brains in so bad it was an actual physical pain.

The first and foremost being the Harridan Queen she made sure to visit him once a day to inflict a special type of pain. He remembered the fifth day of his torture.

She came down, cloaked in a black deel, her black hair perfectly styled, her luscious red lips curled in a evil yet seductive smile.

She stalk to him, he envisioned a snake slithering towards its prey, prepared to strike at any moment.

"Hello, Ichigo was it?" she asked, her voice full of cold humor.

"Well if it isn't the queen of hell herself," he spat at her, blood dribbling from his lips.

"Ohh," she said, pursing her lips in a mocking pout. She walked closer to him, her hands clasped behind her back. "Leave us," she ordered the women standing guard.

They were quick to oblige.

As soon as they were gone, she tightly grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. She inclined her head closer to his.

"Your mouth is quite filthy. You'd think for a prisoner you'd use it to say much kinder words," she said gently taking great interest in his mouth.

He yanked his chin away from her.

"I'm not a prisoner I'm a captive. Of this crazy, psychotic, bitch cult!" he snarled at her. She threw her head back and laughed gaily.

"Oh, you are a treat," she grabs his chin again. "A truly, disgusting treat." She looks at his bruised and battered body. One of her hands moved to stroke his chest, caressing teasingly despite the blood it was covered with. He flinched from her touch; waiting for the pain that he was sure would follow.

"You know, for a disgusting creature, you are quite easy on the eyes," she began to stroke his muscular chest. A smirk crossed his face.

"Really, this is happening?" he said looking towards the sky, a sadistic laugh overcoming him. Now he's truly lost it.

"What's so funny?" she purrs, her hand traveling south.

"This entire situation…me being held captive by Amazons…being tortured…and now the queen of whores is now hitting on me. This is like some God awful porno," he laughed. A confused look crossed her face.

"Porno?" she cocked her head to the side. He only laughed harder.

Her hand kept traveling south until she reached his package.

His laughter stopped.

"Yes, a porno. Something I don't want to be a part of, so hands off," he growled at her. She smiled.

"Oh, you don't like it when I do this?" she began to stroke him through his pants which were tattered and torn to shreds.

"No. I don't. So stop touching me." He ordered her. A fire lit in her eyes, as if she was turned on by him ordering her around.

She grabbed the material of his pants and ripped them off.

There he stood, bare and naked before her.

"Let's see if you can still object when I do this," she grabbed his limp member tightly, stroking it. He grunted, his face red, anger and embarrassment coursed through his body.

"I SAID STOP!" he yelled at her, trying to move away, she held onto him tightly.

"I don't think so." She frowned, looking down at his only partially erected member. "Why isn't this working?" she muttered to herself.

"Sorry to disappoint you, you sadistic rapist bitch, but I don't bat for your team," he spat at her.

"So you like men?" she asked with a smirk on her face.

"No. I'm just not into sick fucks like you!"

"Oh really?" she grabbed him tightly; he closed his eyes in pain, a moan of pure pain escaping him. "Well, let us see if you're into this."

Every few days after that she came back and molested him again and again, trying to excite him enough until he was fully hard, only to be frustrated and angry when she couldn't get it up.

She would beat him half to death, call the women to come and take him to the baths where they would throw him in this thick, sticky blue goop that smelled of mental and roses. Miraculously his wounds would heal and he would feel as good as new.

They would then spray him with a hose, throw him in a dimly lit cell that contain bread, cheese, meat and water and leave him alone for a few hours only to start it all over again.

The next person on his shit list was that bitch Chuluun. He was almost certain that she was a lesbian who had an irrational grudge against men.

She loved to put him in an rusty, iron cage with thick, rail road nails jutting out in every square inch and spin it like a top.

He fucking hated that nail cage, yet she love to put him in there.

She also loved to use a whip with nails on the end. She would set the nails on some hot coals for a while so that when they touched his skin, they left scorched marks and burned his skin.

The third person that he wanted to kill was Orihime.

She was the cause of all of this.

She was the one who brought him to these whores.

She was the reason he was beaten nearly to death every day, only to be healed and beaten again.

She was the reason he was molested on a semi regular basis.

He hated her most of all.

He hated the way he couldn't get her large grey eyes out of his mind.

He hated the way he couldn't get the feel of her body pressed up against his out of his mind.

He hated the way he remembered the soft sound of her voice.

He hated the way he fell for her innocence.

This time, he heard the crack of the whip before his felt his skin tear open.

"AAAAAHHHHHHH!"

LOvE

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" Orihime screamed as she jolted awake from her nightmare.

It was the one that she loathed to have.

There was blood so much blood.

She was covered in the stuff.

It was in her hair, mouth, between her fingers, in her clothes, in cracks and crevices of her body.

There was so much noise, so much commotion. She couldn't see a thing. She was almost certain that there was a fire.

Then the monster came and grabbed her.

She would always wake up when the monster came for her.

Ever since the prisoner came, she's been having that nightmare more and more frequently.

Maybe it was because of her heart. It was heavy with guilt.

"But Grandmother! I promised we would help him!" she cried out as the struggling man was dragged from the throne room.

"My dear beautiful naïve granddaughter, do you not see?" She said, clucking her tongue sadly. "I'm only doing what is best for you. It would shred my heart to pieces if anything were to ever happen to you. You remember our history with man, don't you?" she asked pleadingly.

Orihime's heart ached. She knew her grandmother was afraid for her. Her grandmother was alive and well when the Scythian women, who fought bravely alongside their fellow man, in battles along the Black Sea.

She was there when they were betrayed, being murdered and beaten and raped in their sleep.

She saw it all.

Orihime couldn't blame her for not trusting man, but still…

She'd felt his heart, she knew that there was good in him.

More than anything, she wished she took him to the outer edges of the city rather than to her grandmother.

She curled up in a ball on her feather stuffed bed.

This was wrong, what they were doing to him.

Sometimes she could hear his screams. That tore her heart apart.

This was wrong. What they were doing was wrong. She knew it in her heart it was wrong.

This…they…they were wrong.

LoVe

Orihime sat in the garden, staring at the humming birds flitter about their flowers, drinking the nectar, spreading pollen.

She sighed depressively.

Every day she woke up she regretted what they were doing to the poor man. She felt terrible for him, yet she saw that there was nothing she could do.

"Orihime, I see you are taking advantage of the sunny day," said her grandmother's twin sister, Oyunbileg.

"Oh, Great Aunt Oyunbileg, it is nice to see you," she said smiling. She loved to hang around her Great Aunt. She was kind, sweet and soft spoken. Yet she wielded magic like you wouldn't believe and possessed the fighting skills and prowess of Anahita.

"I thought that you might be out here," she said, sitting on the ground besides Orihime, her light pink deel sparkling in the sun light.

Orihime only smiled, and continued to look at the humming birds.

"Tell me dear, what is troubling your heart?" Oyunbileg asked, her voice dripping with concern.

Orihime sighed, not ready to part with her troubles just yet. "It is nothing my dear great aunt, I only had a nightmare."

"Oh, is it the same one as before?" she asks quietly. Orihime nods. "One day, the meaning of your dream will become clear to you." Orihime nods once more. It's what she always said whenever she was troubled with that type of dream.

"I also know that it isn't what's troubling your heart. Now tell me my Jìng chē, what is bothering you?"

"It is the prisoner. I feel that he truly meant us no harm. I promised to help him, yet, he is tortured ruthlessly. And in my heart I know that this is wrong yet…" she could feel the tears of helplessness well in her eyes. "Yet I feel as though there isn't anything that I can do."

Her Great Aunt nods, agreeing with Orihime, sympathizing with her pain.

"It seems as though your heart is suffering because it is being ignored," she comments. Orihime nods.

"Yes, but what do I do?"

"Well, if I was your heart…I would want to be heard."

lOvE

Questions, Comments and/or Concerns?

Ichigo grunts as he's beaten with the hot poker.

Thankfully it wasn't Chuluun, so he wasn't being stabbed with it, only beaten.

He couldn't even tell which way was up anymore. He was dizzy and he was absolutely sure that he was vomiting blood.

"That's enough," a familiar voice commanded. He was too sick and beaten to look up. "It is time for his bath. Please, carry him there, I wish not to touch him."

"Yes princess," the women said in unison.

He felt himself being taken down and dragged along the floor, the familiar route to the baths.

He was airborne for a few seconds as they tossed him in. He could feel the healing properties beginning to work immediately.

"Please leave us now, my grandmother has ordered for me to watch him alone," the soft voice spoke once again. He could hear the shuffling of feet as the women bowed and left him.

He swam to the surface of the blue goop, wiping the stuff from his face.

He saw the orange haired beauty that he hated. Her large grey eyes looked remorseful and frightened.

She was alone, he was almost certain that he could take her.

She looked him in the eyes. He faltered a bit.

Why was she so sad?

"What are you doing here?" he asked her, contempt clear in his voice.

She looked around, obviously fearful.

"I'm here to help you escape."