MadamOrchid's rival business, the Sword's Sheathe, was also built along the river, but on the exact opposite side of town as her. Like the Violet Palace, it was built on the edge of the town where the river met the wall.

Adam led the way there, walking in front of me, trying to stop himself from staring at my newly transformed self. Chloe walked next to me, and she made no effort at all to avoid staring. She lookedat me with absolutelyblatantthirst.

"M-Mistress…" she whispered. "Can I lick you?"

"Not right this second, no," I replied, raising an eyebrow.

"But um… maybe later please?" she asked.

"Sure, but why the sudden urge?" I asked.

"You sort of… smell good, now.Reallygood. And if you taste like you smell…" she didn't finish saying the thought out loud, but I understood what she wasconveying.

"Sure, but later," I said.

"E-even the b-back hole… the umm…there… probably tastes amazing too… c-can I…?" she muttered quietly.

"You can taste your fill of both, once we get some alone time, how's that?" I said.

"Yes… thank you Mistress," Chloe replied.

We lapsed back into silence, and continued to walk. Chloe stared at my ass with hunger. I smirked at her, and made an effort to sway my hips a little more.

We were in a sort of run down part of the town now. It wasn't a slum, exactly, this town was too small and too rich to have a proper slum, but if there was a 'least good' part of town, this was it. The road here was narrow, the buildings tall. We crossed the mouth of an alleyway when I felt a sudden chill shoot down my spine, like I was being watched.

I gasped and stopped, looking around me for anyone suspicious. I saw a man hiding in the shadows of the dark alley staring at me. Thanks to the darkvisionthat came as part of the whole demi-angel package, he was perfectly visible in the shadows, clear as day. The only thing I couldn't see in the darkness was colour. Apparently darkvision was black and white only.

The man was tall and bald, with a dark cloak worn over leather armour. He couldn't have looked any shadier if he tried. He even had a stereotypical scar over one eye. Seriously dude?

What did this weird feeling of being watched remind me of? Oh yeah… thepriest's [Status Appraisal] ability.

The creepy man smiled at me, like he'd just discovered something good. Wait… shit! I wasn't a human anymore. This could be troublesome. Would he try toenslave me? Were Aasimar considered a Tainted species worth of enslavement,or an Untainted one?

Okay, what to do? Fighting him pre-emptively seemed like a bad idea. Staring atme and looking creepy wasn't a crime. I'd walk somewhere a bit more public, and hang out near some crowds or town guards. He wouldn't start shit in public. With that in mind, I looked away from the guy, and kept walking.

"Mistress?" Chloe asked, noticing something was up.

"Some creepy guy just Appraised me. It's giving me bad vibes. Keep alert," I replied in a low voice.

Chloe nodded, and looked around carefully, taking note of everyone around uswith her superior Perception stat. Aside from the three of us, the street was strangely deserted. This was not good.

We kept walking for a few more minutes, when Chloe whispered, "We're being followed."

Shit.I quickly glanced over my shoulder, and didn't see the same creepy guy, but anewpair of thuggish gentlemen were following us. I glanced ahead of us, and two more men came out of an alleyway and blocked our way forward.

Adam stopped, looking confused, only now realising something was wrong. The creepy guy I saw before came out of the alley ahead of us. The other thugs reacted to his presence with respect, looking at him like he was a leader.

"Can Ihelpyou?" I asked, with all the snark I could muster.

"Hey kid!" the leader called out, ignoring me and looking at Adam, "Leave the girls and get out of here, we ain't interested in you."

"Explain yourself!" Adam called out aggressively. "I am an Acolyte of the Holy Order, serving directly beneath Father Jordan!"

"Don't give a shit 'bout some hick town's priest," the thug replied. "You're out of your depth. Get out of here. Last warning."

"No!" Adam took a nervous step back, and puffed out his chest, "I-I… won't just let you-"

There was a faint whistle, and then an arrow was poking out of Adam's throat. He gurled and grasped at the arrow, his white robe quickly turning red as blood poured out of the deadly throat wound.

Fuckballs!

I spotted the guy with the bow. With my shiny new willpower buff and recently unlocked [Advanced Mana Manipulation] Skill, it barely took a second to weave together a Firebolt spell. I launched a huge barrage of flames at the bowman. The first one struck him dead in the face, knocking him over and setting his clothes alight. The other two flew over his head as he ducked and rolled, screaming and trying to put out the flames.

"Chloe heal him!"I shouted.

Chloe dove for Adam, trying to stabilize him. The five thugs around us all charged for me. I flung another barrage of firebolts at all of them. Most missed. The first bolt that hit something struck a man in the chest. He seemed to be unhurt, his leather armour cooking a little, but absorbing all the damage. The second man I hit screamed, clutching his freshly burnt arm. Neither hits were lethal.

[Fire Magic I] Skill has reached rank 3

Shut up, not now!I dismissed the message.

And then, the leader-thug was suddenly in front of me, staring me dead in the eye. He was fast. I hadn't even seen him move. I yelped and hopped back, trying to cast another Firebolt. I felt something smash against my stomach, and my vision blurred. I flew back, crashing on the hard ground, rolling a few times before I came to a stop. My focus on the spell shape shattered and the magic unravelled.

I groaned and clutched my tummy where I'd been hit. I looked up just in time to see a boot flying toward my face. Everything went dark.

I woke up with a splitting headache, feeling the pulse of my own heartbeat behind my eyeballs. I saw nothing but blurry blobs. The air was cold on my bare skin. I'd been stripped of all my clothes. A minute or two passed as my vision slowly recovered. The world returned to focus again.

I was in a dungeon. Like… a literal medieval dungeon. The air was cold and damp, the smell of urine and blood in the air. The walls, ceiling, and floor were a dirty grey stone brick, damp and probably growing mold. The ceiling overhead was a low arch, probably three feet tall at the edges, and five feet tall at the apex. It made the space feel oppressive and claustrophobic, too low for an adult to stand. The cell's dimensions seemed to be about eight feet deep and four feet wide, a horrifyingly tiny space to find yourself trapped inside. To make matters worse, there was no window, only a heavy wooden door against one wall, reinforced with iron bracing.

There was no light source at all, and the dungeon was dead silent. The stone seemed to absorb all sound. If I didn't have magical darkvision thanks to my new species upgrade, I'd be absolutely losing my shit right now.

It was interesting to note that, despiteLysander claiming my new Aasimar eyes glowed… there was no blue light coming from me. Maybe my eyes were more cat like… catching and reflecting light, rather than actually being a glowing light source. I suppose that was a good thing, it would be pretty hard to hide at night if I glowed blue.

There was no furniture in here, only a pile of moldy straw beneath where I woke up, presumably for sleeping, and a bucket in the corner that smelled nasty. It was probably meant to be my toilet.Lovely.The only other feature in the room was a short metal chain connecting a pair of manacles around my wrists to the wall. It was a short chain. I was currently laying down on my back, wrists above my head, pinned up against the wall. I had, maybe, two feet of wiggle room. Enough to adjust my position a bit, but not to actually move around the cell.

Okay then.It appeared I'd been kidnapped and locked in a dungeon.

That in itself was meaningful… Almost every building in the town was wood, with only a little bit of mortared cobblestone for foundation. As far as I could tell, the average house didn't even have a basement, or if they had some sort of cellar, it was probably just packed dirt walls and floor. So, that meant that wherever I was locked up was somewhere big, and fancy. This wasn't just some random gang's secret hideout.

So, why was I kidnapped? Why was I delivered to some elaborate mystery dungeon? Why were Chloe and I targeted, but not Adam?

I groaned. There was only one conclusion I could come to. Onlygirls were taken, I was butt naked, and I didn't have anything thing of value other than my ass, so…yeah…It was easy to guess what my captors wanted from me. I immediately recalled what Madam Orchid told me yesterday, rumorsabout the Scarlet Thorn brothel abducting her free employees. Yeah, it was a safe bet I'd been captured by the torture brothel.

Why me though? Sure,Ithought I wasdamnsexy, but frommy conversations with the prostitutes last night, I discovered that slender figures like my own weren't as desirable to your average randomjoe on the street. Elves and smaller species of beastkin were generally pretty skinny. Being a little bit… curvier was a seen as morehumanlike,and therefore more appealing to mainstream tastes, body wise. Too curvy was also a problem, though. Excessively large breasts or hips drew comparison to larger bodied demihumans, like orcs or cowgirls. Maddie was the closest one among us to that goldilocks zone, curvy but not cartoonishly big. She was what most in this world would call theideal human.

Short pixie cut hair like mine wasn't in fashion either. Actually… that might not have been entirely true… One of the girls told me there was apparently a sort of popular kink among the nobility where they liked to dress their female slaves as pageboys. They would use male pronouns with their slave, calling them 'boy.' And when the master bent the slave over for sexytimes, they generally took their slave 'in the manner of a boy,' as well. Yep, that meant butt stuff.

The only explanation I could think of was that the Aasimarpresenceorgravity,that Lysander and Emi were talking about, caught these guys' attention. It certainly had a bit of an aphrodisiac effect on Chloe. Perhaps it had the same effect on my abductors too.

Lovely.So, what now?

Escape attempt? I could conjure myself a hardlight hacksaw or metal file and saw through the shackles. The metal looked dark and pitted, probably not a high-grade of steel. It might even be plain wrought iron. It would probably cost me a decent chunk of mana to keep the saw teeth sharp as I used it, but I could take meditation breaks. I wasn't sure how my cell door was kept shut, but this place didn't seem terribly high tech or escape-proof. There was a reasonably large gap between the doorway and the floor. I could probably conjure some sort of hardlight tool, slide it under the door and knock the bar or latch open.

And then what? I break out of my cell and… get my face kicked in again by some high level dudes that can apparently shrug off a bolt of fire to the face unfazed? Maybe I should spend a bit of time and boost my combat magic skills before I go pissing off an entire squad of armed thugs again… Unholy magic would be useful, especially with Lysander's suggestion of that level ten ability that boosts my curses. I'd love to see them try to shrug off an attack that killed a level twenty Rock Mimic in two blows. Sadly, I couldn't cast my doom curse without a living target. I'd have to practice and level up my fire or wind for now and hope I unlocked a more effective spell.

I started weaving my Firebolt spell shape together.

The spell collapsed.

"The fuck?"I muttered under my breath.

I tried again. It failed again.

One more time. I went slow this time, paying extra attention to my internal mana flows with [Sense Mana]. I was able to picture the spell shape, but when I tried to movemy mana, it felt locked in place. Where before it would flow like water, nowit was more of a gooey rubber. It seemed to resist any change. It could pokeand prod myinternal mana will my will, and deform it a bit, but eventhattookatremendous exertion of willpower. I could forget about forming an intricate spell shape like this.

Okay, this was some sort of magic suppression. I suppose it made sense.

I was only level eight, but even for me, breaking out of a mundane dungeon like this would be trivial. Hardlight would work, but I could also alternate Firebolt and Gust to heat and cool the metal until it got brittle and shattered. Lysander could probably just blast her way through anything with her arcane missiles. Chloe and Emi would be pretty fucked though, unless they managed to unlock some other magic schools.

So yeah,magic suppression. Take away your victim's superpowers when you capture them, that was comic book villainy 101.

How were they doing it? I took a glance around the cell, and didn't see any conspicuous anti-magic runes or whatever. But when I moved my head, I felt a weight around my neck I hadn't noticed before. I squirmed closer to the wall and touched my neck. Yep. I was wearing a metal collar, just like Chloe. [Sense Mana] told me it was magical in nature, a more powerful version of the one my slave wore. I had no idea what the enchantments actually did, but I was willing to bet this collar held some sort of magic suppression enchantment on it.

I strained my will again. Forget trying to form a spell shape, I was just trying to move my magic at all, but eventhatwas futile. The harder I pushed, the harder the enchantment pushed back. Could I break the collar physically? No. I felt around the collar and wasn't even able to find a seam. This was probably like Chloe's collar, seamless, made of high-quality steel, and probably enchanted to resist damage and tampering.

I gave up, with a sigh. No daring escape for me, I was stuck here. My only hope was to wait for a rescue, like a damsel in distress. Did Chloe escape? Did she manage to save Adam? If so, there was a witness. If not, then Father Jacob would at least investigate his ward's disappearance and possible demise. He seemed like a sort of big shot in town. I had to hope that help would come for me eventually.

Until then… what was going to happen to me?

Rape was… pretty much inevitable. I wasn't terribly worried about that, to be honest. Aasimar were immune to disease, and a daily Purify would make pregnancy a non-issue. I'd already been raped by monsters, a mere human couldn't be that bad by comparison. But Madam Orchid implied this place catered to sadists and torturers. That was… a bit scary.

I sat in the darkness for a good long time, remembering all sorts of cruel tortures I'd seen in various BDSM porn videos. Spanking, paddling, whipping… clamps and clips… lube-free painal… at least electrotorture probably hadn't been invented yet.

If it was just that then it wouldn't be so bad. Knowing how masochistic this body was, I might even enjoy it…

But, how far could they go if they didn't need to worry about keeping things safe, sane, or consensual? If magical healing could fix up any damage short of actual death… how far could they go? Howcruelcould they be?

I recalled, in horrifying detail, all the forms of medieval torture I knew about. Whips were just the start. There were bone shattering vices, crushers, breast rippers, the rack, hot irons, boiling oil… the pearof anguish…

Oh great… I was getting turned on.No! Bad pussy! You've been captured by evil torture-rapists. You're allowed to like spankings, maybe, but extreme mind-destroying torture is a bad thing! Don't get excited!

I tried my best to think pure thoughts. I was anAngel, nice and pure and chaste. I stifled a chuckle,Yeah right!

"Hello? Anybody home?" I called out.

No response.

I sighed, and lay back down on the moldy hay. There was nothing to do now but wait.

Onething they don't tell your about being a torture-slash-sex slave is just howboringitiswhile you're not being used.

I sat in mydarkened cell for what felt like hours. With no window to see out of, I had no idea what time it was, but I was sure most of the day had passed. With nothing better to do, I flexed my willpower and strained against my collar's magical suppression.

[Advanced Mana Manipulation] Skill has reached rank 2

[Advanced Mana Manipulation] Skill has reached rank 3

[Advanced Mana Manipulation] Skill has reached rank 4

Interestingly, despite barely being able todoanything with my mana, I could still manipulate it a tiny little bit and that counted as practice. Straining against the suppression actually seemed to be an effective way to train my mental muscles. It was the only useful thing to do I could think of. If I got my mana manipulation Skill higher, it might be possible to overcome the collar's suppression effect.

Unfortunately, after three rank ups, I couldn't feel much of a difference in my mana control at all. I was starting to think this particular plan wouldn't work. Another dead end.

My first plan was searching the skill shop, I still had a single skill point left, after all. Sadly, Ididn't find any sort of 'Resist Supression' Skill, or anything else that would help me slip my collar.

I alternated my manipulation training with bouts of Meditation as well, switching whenever I started to feel mentally fatigued from the strain of maintaining concentration for so long.

[Meditation] Skill has reached rank 7

I was past Plan A or B, and on Plan C now. I could only hope that maxing out [Advanced Mana Manipulation] or [Meditation] might unlock some useful hidden skill in my shop that I could buy with my free point.

An unknown number of hours passed. I spent the time laying on my back in the straw, arms shackled above my head as I played with my mana. Finally, I heard the sound of heavy footsteps from the hall outside my door. There was a clunk sound, the door's bar being lifted away, and then the heavy door opened with a creak. Dim lamplight poured into my cell, the first actual light I'd seen in hours.

Standing in the doorway was a man in a fine black tuxedo. He was pale, with dark eyes, and pitch black hair. His hair was oiled and slicked back, and he had a thin, neatly trimmed, moustache. He looked down at where I was lying with cold cruel eyes. He smiled, clearly deriving some pleasure from the power he had over me in this situation.

The tuxedo man didn't look small, but also wasn't especially physically imposing. That wasn't a problem though, because next to him were two burly tough dudes, smaller than Ash, but still bigger than most guys. They had plenty of intimidation factor. They were the sort of minion a creepy torture brothel proprietor might hire to stand around and look scary while keeping the peace.

"Hey," I said. "Are you the guys who kidnapped me? Wanna explain what the fuck's going on?"

I knew these guys could, and likely would do horrible things to me, but I was determined not to be some quivering damsel in distress. I was frustrated by boredom, sensory deprivation, and my lack of success overcoming my magic suppression.

The dark haired man didn't reply. He looked over his shoulder at one of the toughs, snapped his fingers and pointed at me. The big guy hunched down and stepped into my low-ceilinged cell. Without warning, he kicked me hard in the stomach.

The blow knocked the wind out of my lungs, and the attitude off my face."Uugh!"I groaned, curling up on my side protectively. It was lucky I had an empty stomach, I'd have probably lost my lunch otherwise.

"Slaves should adopt a respectful tone with their masters, and should not speak unless asked a direct question," the dark haired man said coolly.

"And I suppose you've decided I'm you're slave now?" I grumbled. "Do you have documentation for that? I'm pretty sure you just kidnapped me off the street. This shitcan'tbe legal."

The man snapped his fingers again. The tough guy next to me raised his boot and stomped down on my side.

"Uaaaagh!"I gasped. Fuck… that hurt. My eyes watered.

"Slaves should adopt a respectful tone with their masters, and should not speak unless asked a direct question," the dark haired man repeated.

I opened my mouth to complain, and give voice to my annoyance. I saw three pairs of eyes starting down at me expectantly, ready to stomp me again if I mouthed off. Ithought better of it, and chose to stay silent.

The tough guy pulled out a key that looked something like a hex head screwdriver, and unlocked my manacles. He grabbed me by the shoulder, and roughly rolled me onto my stomach. He pinned my arms together behind my back, and a second set of manacles clicked shut around my wrists. He grabbed a fist full of my hair, and dragged me around, up and out. I hissed in pain, and scrambled to my feet trying to follow him and keep him from ripping all my hair out.

"Oww oww! Don't pull my hair, just tell me what you want and I'll do it!" I whined.

Slam!

The pain on my scalp doubled, and I was thrown against the stone wall of the dungeon hall outside. A big meaty hand closed around my throat, pinning me firmly with my back against the wall. A big brutish fist wound back. My arms were bound behind me, so I couldn't move them to protect myself. I tensed my abs, doing what I could to brace myself.

"Ooof!"The fist smashed into my tummy. I tried to curl forward to protect my abused gut, but the fist on my throat kept me pinned in place.

"Not much of a learner, this one," the brute commented with a cruel grin.

"Slaves should adopt a respectful tone with their masters, and should not speak unless asked a direct question," the dark haired man repeated for the third time. "You are free to act how you want with a clients, some of them enjoy a bit of struggle and will pay for that privilege. I, however, do not enjoy unruly slaves. You've hadthreegentle reminders of your position. The next time you mouth off to one of us, we won't be so gentle. Do I make myself clear?"

That wasgentle?Fuck.

"Thatwas a direct question slave. You will answer yes sir, or no sir." the dark haired man added.

"Yes sir," I said.

"Good," the dark haired man replied.

The brute released my throat and grabbed a fistful of hair again. I clenched my jaw and hissed in pain, trying to supress the urge to comment on the unnecessary brutality. Seriously… I wasn't trying to fight! If they want me to walk, just ask me to walk.What the fuck!

The three men led me along a narrow hall of dungeon cells, thankfully it had a higher ceiling than the cells themselves, probably about eight feet. There were about twenty cells altogether, not a huge number. I was near the end of the row, and all of the cells I passed were empty, with door ajar. Either this brothel was going through a drought of slaves, or they were just us all somewhere else and I was one of the last to be moved.

We climbed up a narrow staircase and reached… another dungeon. This was a nicer dungeon, however. There still weren't any windows, but the stone arched ceiling was tall and vaulted, with nicely detailed gothic-style stonework. I was led into a wide, cavernous hall, lit with plentiful oil lamps and charcoal braziers.

It was a huge torture chamber.

It was laid out a bit like a cathedral, with a large vaulted central hall, wide open, and two smaller wings on either side of it, with lower ceilings. Down the very centre of the vaulted hall, chains and shackles hung from the ceiling, connected via pulley to cranks so the victim could be hoisted up. The open central space was otherwise kept nice and clear, probably to keep clients from whipping each other accidentally.

The side sections contained a dozen different pieces of horrifying torture furniture and cruel machinery. Thanks to a night spent surfing Wikipedia on the inquisitional witch hunts, I recognized some of them. There was the Spanish Donkey or Wooden Horse, a sharp wedge that the victim would straddle, the wood digging into their crotch painfully. There was the Judas Chair, a big cruel pyramid the victim would be forced to sit and anally impale themselves on. There was some sort of bench, with a little wooden pillory that kept a person's feet locked in position above a fiery brazier. It was currently unlit, thankfully. There was the famous rack as well ready to slowly pull a person's arms and legs out of their sockets… and some sort of big wheel thing…

Not all of it was obvious torture devices though. There was a wide variety of benches, tables, frames, pillories and other things to hold a person while you did whatever you wanted with them. One corner of the room was set aside for regular old raping, hosting a few straw mattresses and pillows ready for use. Behind the torture devices, there also seemed to be a row of other rooms, much larger than our cells, if the space between the doors was any indication. I assumed those would be private rooms for customers who didn't want to play in plain viewof the others.

And of course, there were the slave girls themselves.

The great hall's ceiling was supported by wide stone columns on either side of the arch, forming the boundary between the vaulted central area and the two sides areas with the torture devices. Each of these large stone pillars was decorated with a girl. They stood, back against the stone, with the arms raised above their heads, and wrists shackled to a ring embedded in the column above them.

I was given onlya few seconds to take in the sight before I was led to an empty pillar. My arms were unshackled from behind my back, raised above my head and shackled again to the wall. My feet were left free, I debated spitefully kicking the thug who'd been manhandling me, but decided I'd rather not get punched again.

I looked around at my neighbours, my fellow torture slaves. Each of the girls had a metal collar around their necks. How many of these were legitimately bought? How many were kidnapped or stolen? I saw a few different demihuman species on offer. I didn't see any Aasimar, or purely human looking girls in the lineup.

I counted seventeen slaves on offer, including myself.

About half were beastkin of various flavors: Cat girls, fox girls, puppy girls, mouse girls… and so on. If it was a mammal, there was probably a beastkin version of it. Like the cat and wolf girls I'd seen before, they all looked to be about 80% human, with animal ears, tails, claws, and feet.

Perhaps another quarter were elves, in one of three different colours. There were pale high elves, like Chloe, who had once built their beautiful cities in the mountains, before the Taint destroyed and scattered their civilization. There were tanned low elves, originally hailing from a desert region far to the south, they'd once lived alongside humanity as equals, before the Taint ruined everything. And finally, there were the purple skinned dark elves, who were native to a massive unexplored cave system beneath the surface of the planet. They fled to the surface when their tunnels and cities were overrun by a particularly dangerous type of rape spider that now dominated the area.

Aside from the elves, there were also two halflings, a thick muscular dwarf girl, and myself, the unique and sparkly Aasimar, on offer.

Surprisingly, two of the slaves on display were boys: A mouse boy, and a deer boy. Were they here for the female sadists? or for gay male sadists? Probably the latter, I suspected. I doubted many openly dominant women would emerge in a patriarchal society like this. They were both smaller gentlemen, pretty like Adam, and a bit on the effeminate side. I suspected they'd be the bottom bitches during their eventual rapes. They had modest little dicks, shaved clean, like all the girls, and currently flaccid.

There was one special slave, singled out from the others. I… didn't want to look directly at her. She'd been selected for some sort of special punishment.

This one was a dark elf, with white hair and grey-purple skin. She was set up as a display of sorts, like cruel living art piece. A large wooden cross had been suspended against the side wall of the main vaulted space, opposite the entrance staircase, almost ten feet off the ground. It was a prominent location, in plain sight of any customer entering this hellhole. This wasn't a Jesus style cross, it was more of a big 'X' shape, called a St. Andrew's cross back on Earth. The dark elf had been nailed to it.

Four thick iron spikes, almost an inch wide, had been driven through the poor girl's wrists and ankles pinning her in place. Her entire body weight was supported entirely by only these cruel spikes, there wasn't even a platform for her to rest her feet. And that was only a small part of her tortures. Her body was a gory patchwork of welts, cuts and burns. Stripes, squiggly lines, and pretty little spirals of charred flesh decorated her upper body, almost like tattoos. Her legs, from her upper thighs down to her feet had been flayed, the skin missing entirely, revealing cords of bare muscle to the open air. They were like a pair of horrifying, bloody thigh high stockings.

Whatever she'd been through must have taken hours. It was hard to believe she was still alive. She looked like a corpse, but I could see her chest move with every breath, and fresh tears on her face. She was fully awake, fully lucid, and in horrifying agony.

The cross was held aloft by a rope and pulley, connected to a crank on the dungeon floor. I watched one of the guards tap another on the shoulder, and show him the rope. He gave his fellow a cheeky look, and grabbed the taught line. He pulled it out to the side, hoisting the cross slightly higher. Then, he let it go. The cross fell back down, and stopped with a sudden jerk.

"AaaaaaAAAAAAAGHHHH!!"the dark elf let out a sudden demented shriek of agony that shook me to the core. It rang out long and loud, covering the entire hall. Nothingwith a pair of humanlike lungs should have been able to make a sound like that.

That was… genuinely scary. Could that happen to me? To anyone here? That was completely fucked up. This went beyondanysort of sane BDSM play. This wasn't even sexual… it was just raw agony inflicted on a helpless victim.

I could handle a bit of rough love and degradation, but this was too much, even for a masochist like me. For once, I didn't get wet. I was truly scared.

As my eyes scanned over the prospective victims. The man I decided to call Satan's Butler left me, and went to get another victim from the cells below. He soon came back with another elf. This one, I recognized.

"Chloe!" I gasped. Oh no, not Chloe too!

Chloe made eye contact with me, and shook her head no. Indicating that she couldn't talk. Unlike me, she could apparently follow orders properly. I had a number of nasty bruises spreading on my tummy, but I didn't see a single mark on her body. She was chained against a pillar across the hall from me.

Without any prompting from the boss, the thug from earlier came up to me.

"Okay, okay, no talking, sorry!" I muttered.

"Uuugh!"The thug's fist smashed into my stomach again. I slouched over and groaned in pain. Oh, my poor tummy! Why did he always have to hit the same damn spot!

After Chloe, another slave was brought up. A ginger haired catgirl. She looked utterly terrified. Naked, shivering against the cold stone, staring wide eyed at all the torture equipment. When she noticed the dark elf hanging on the wall, she whimpered audibly, her shivering doubled in intensity, and a little trickle of pee dripped down her leg. She turned out to be the last one brought up from the cells below.

Were we ordered from oldest to newest?I compared the fresh jittery catgirl next to me, with a girl on the exact opposite side of the hall. She was a caramel skinned low elf. Physically, she was in perfect shape, cleanly healed with no signs of torture scarring her body. Mentally? She looked near catatonic. Her glazed over eyes were staring unfocused into the distance. Unlike the catgirl who squirmed uncomfortably in her shackles, the elf was relaxed and limp in her shackles, hanging from her wrists, completely motionless.

How long had she been here? How long did it take to break someone that completely? What about the hanging elf?

An elderly man in a white robe walked up to me. He wasn't decrepit with age, merely old, looking to be somewhere in his early sixties, still nice and spry. He glanced down at my bruises with a disapproving frown, then looked me in the eye and smiled warmly. A nice kind smile… Maybe this one wasn't so bad…

He reached out and grabbed my exposed breast. A good solid grope… an utterly shameless violation. I gave him the stink eye, but he didn't acknowledge my glare at all, merely enjoying my breast at his leisure. He squeezed it, bounced it, teased the nipple until it was hard, and then gently pinched it a few times. He wasn't looking me in the eye anymore. I was just an object, merely an amusing toy he'd decided to play with.

That alone wouldn't have been too bad, but the humiliating part was how my body was responding to his touch. It felt good. Being molested by a disgusting oldgeezer shouldn't have felt good, but it did. My body juiced up. I bit my lip and stifled the urge to moan.

Mercifully, the groping stopped before I could embarrass myself further. There was a glimmer of holy light I recognized as Purify. The day's sweat vanished from my body, as did the filth of the dungeon cell, and the contents of my bladder and bowels. Within a few seconds I was clean enough to eat off of. He gave my breast another parting squeeze, and let me go, patting me gently on my head and moving onto the ginger catgirl slave without a word.

He stuck a finger between her thighs and gently stroked her pussy. She whimpered at the violation, but didn't dare say anything to him. He gathered a finger full of urine from her inner thigh, and licked it off his fingertip.

That was… a little biteww…

Soon enough, I saw the flash of Purify and she was cleaned too. Next up was Chloe, who smiled submissively and allowed him to touch her breasts without a hint of shame or resistance. She even spread her thighs helpfully when he reached between her legs to poke a finger inside her.

None of these rapey assholes had introduced themselves, and I didn't think they were going to. I decided to name this oneGrandpa Bad Touch.

Grandpa Bad Touch continued down the hall, cleaning each slave one at a time, and enjoying their bodies with his hands. He even touched the men, firmly holding their delicate balls in his hand and gently massaging them as he cleaned their bodies with magic. He made sure not to leave until the boys were involuntarily hard, and thoroughly humiliated. Truly, Grandpa Bad Touch was a cosmopolitan pervert of many varied tastes.

Still, while he might have been a little creepy, his touch was always gentle, and he never hurt anyone. His biggest crime was inflicting humiliation and involuntary arousal on the captive slaves, I grudgingly had to respect that. That made him my favorite rapist of the bunch… the one least likely to crucify me and flay the skin off my legs.

Eventually, the white robed healer left us. The dark haired man, Satan's Butler, returned and gave us all a final inspection.

"Please… I'll be good… don't torture me… I can suck… I'll bend over…" the jittery catgirl whimpered.

"Urrrrgh!"She too, received a heavy punch to the gut for speaking out of turn. As awful as it was… part of me was alittle bitglad I wasn't the only one to make that mistake.

We silently hung around for another hour, mostly ignored by various tuxedo glad gentlemen as they wiped down the torture equipment and tools and did whatever other busywork the brothel had to do before they opened their doors. They also made a game of tugging the rope holding up the tortured elf's cross and letting it drop, inflicting mind-shredding torment on the crucified dark elf, competing over who could get her to scream the loudest.

And then, the door to the dungeon opened and we got our first customers.