To Kill a Nightingale (DeRe & Malicious Lullaby)

The day was beautiful. The sun’s rays illuminated through the silk curtains that hung in her room casting its beautiful glow through and around her. Her blonde locks shone with the natural light hitting them and slender arms outstretched, pushing her body down into the covers. Today was the day. Her betrothed would be arriving into the kingdom and she’d finally meet the dreamy man she was to wed in just one short month. He was a prince from a faraway kingdom. Both her kingdom and his were at war but finally both Kings stopped their barbaric behavior and posed a treaty; a marriage alliance. Which meant that she was to marry the prince from the rival nation.

But when she saw his picture, her heart beat the sounds of a thousand exciting drums, her entire face had this enlightening glow and deep in her heart—nay, her soul!—she knew that this was the man she was to marry.

A knock sounded at her door and it was her lady’s maid, Lavinia, coming to check that she had roused from bed. Rolling out of bed, the princess, Delilah, pulled on her robe and fastened it before opening her door to let Lavinia in. “Oh it’s a beautiful day, is it not? The sun is shining. The weather has every potential of being absolutely perfect and in a mere couple of hours, my beloved betrothed will grace these very halls.” She spoke it with such a happy sigh, spinning around to face Lavinia as she was gingerly trying to usher Delilah into getting ready.

“I know, my lady. It’s an exciting event to be sure! But it will be less exciting if you are not bathed, dressed and down for breakfast before your music lessons on time today. Your father, His Majesty, is very adamant that you are not late today. You have a heavy schedule ahead of you my lady and I highly recommend we get started.” Lavinia smiled and Delilah could only oblige.

After she was dressed in a beautiful sky blue corseted dress with ivory and silver trimming, Lavinia finished the final touches of her hairdo. She had braided Delilah’s long blonde hair into one thick braid and then placed an ivory hair net at the back of her head, holding it in place with sapphire topped pins and silver pearls. “Oh no…” Delilah frowned as she looked out her window and saw the sun disappear behind thick gray clouds. “The sun went away. Perhaps not a beautiful day after all…”

“Has His Majesty notified you of the revolution?”
“The revolution? I thought that was tampered down after the promised alliance between the kingdoms?” She asked.

“That’s what I thought too, my lady, but apparently there’s been some rumors floating around about the revolution coming back. Apparently, they’re not too happy that the solution to wars that killed many and barely any of the noble and royal families, was a marriage alliance.” Lavinia supplied.

Delilah stood up and she turned to her. “Well…” She gulped. “I am sure that they are just rumors and no such revolution exists.” She said softly.

“Of course, my lady. Forgive me.” She bowed her head. “Shall we get our way down to breakfast?”
“Yes, we shall.”

But the moment they stepped out of her room, there was a loud thundering shake of the earth, following by an explosion so heavy that it was able to knock both Delilah and Lavinia off their feet. Both girls fell into now what was rubble around them of fallen and crushed rock. “What is happening?” The princess asked in terror.

“I don’t know my lady, but we need to get you to safety if the castle is under siege.” Lavinia scrambled to her feet and helped Delilah and they ran to safety. More shaking of the earth and castle, more explosions, louder screams and then just like that, it started to go increasingly quiet.

It all happened so fast. At first, Delilah thought it was falling rocks from the sky she had heard of from one of the scientists. But as she walked out of the room with Lavinia trailing behind, it didn’t look like falling rocks. It looked like man-made projectiles to demolish an entire kingdom. Hand in hand, both women walked among the rubble taking in the scene around them. The castle still stood but most of the court was destroyed. Fire and dusts licked the surfaces as well as blood and dead bodies.

As they neared the ruined throne room, she heard a faint gruff voice calling for help. Following it, she found her father underneath a stone wall, a pole having impaled through it and right through him. Blood dripped out the corner of his mouth and when he saw her, he called, “Delilah…”

“Papa!” She screamed, running to him. She tried to push the stone slab off of him but she couldn’t and it only made him more in pain.
“Stop, stop.” With his good hand, he was able to pull the royal jewels with their house crest on the gold piece and he handed it to her. “You are now ruler. The fate of this kingdom and its survivors are in your hands.” He rasped.

Delilah took them but she was shocked and not understanding. “What about Mama? Anvil? Dalton?” She inquired of her two brothers who were in line before her.

He shook his head. “I watched them explode with the bombs.” He sounded so heartbroken over it and so was she. Her entire family wiped out and she was the sole heir to an entire legendary kingdom?

“Papa…” She reached to cup his cheek with her good hand and with a proud but pained smile, her father breathed his last breath, no longer able to hold on.

Standing, Delilah held the crown jewels in her hand and she looked to Lavinia.
“What happened?”
“He made me heir.” Delilah said softly.
“What?”

Before she could answer, she heard marching. “Get behind me.” She pulled Lavinia behind her just as a group of marching men entered through the rubble in her direction. She clutched the jewels in her hand and stood her ground. The revolution was here. The revolution never died. The revolution wiped out the royal family.

But not Delilah.

The horizon was beautiful on fire. A cloudless sky, blue as a duck's egg, disappeared behind a billowing black and scarlet mass of flame. The obscene Palace that had marred the landscape had been reduced to rubble, its glided and marble firmament now in pieces like a broken toy. Its ear-splitting destruction had resounded across the entire metropolis. For weeks now the revolutionaries had been stealthily preparing its downfall, with their agents among the staff infiltrating explosives into the most sensitive corners of the venerable edifice. When the blasts all went off simultaneously it was like an immaculately written composition come to fruition. While the explosion faded away in echo, a gigantic wall of dust rose up, as if the spirit of the building were ascending out of the carnage.

Devlan lowered his telescope, snapping it shut with a purposeful motion. His heterochromatic eyes gazed out alternately blue and hazel over the destruction of the Palace. Despite the months of preparation and the forcefulness of his design, he still could barely believe the spectacle unfolding before him. For centuries the ominous mass of the building had dominated the lives of the workers below, both physically and spiritually. Now its downfall presaged the collapse of the entire regime, with the revolution planting its flag triumphantly in the ruins. Devlan turned to look upon the cohort that stood behind him, their faces reflecting the mix of awe and resolve he had just felt. For a moment he considered some weighty speech, the kind of stirring oratory that had brought him to the front of the revolution. But in the overwhelming silence that followed the explosion it seemed almost a violation to speak. So instead he swept his arm meaningfully towards the ruins, and the column advanced behind him.

They moved slowly but steadily through the rubble, dodging the small pockets of flame and collapsing masonry that still stood. Bodies of the once-vaunted Palace Guard lay scattered about, among the remains of courtiers and other flunkies. All the servants had been warned and long since fled. Moving towards what was once the center, Devlan noted a quiet amazement at how much of the throne room still stood, and marveled that some things could never truly be torn down. Through the haze he could see what remained of the despised King, now obviously expired. Two girls stood beside the prostrate form, and Devlan peered through the dust to make them out.

The dust seemed to clear slowly and almost agonizingly. Delilah could make out the opaque black shadowed figures that loomed closer and closer but she couldn’t tell a face apart from the next. All she knew that this must have been the revolution. Her only knowledge of them was that they hated the monarchy, hated her father, hated the entire rule of her family. Yet, she figured that it was only because that perhaps her father had done little to bring the war to peace. She figured that a marriage between the rival and violent kingdoms would be enough to appease the people but apparently they had all been very wrong.

Her gaze shifted from the dust that blocked her view of the men coming nearer and to that of the rubble and remains of what was once a great and fantastic kingdom. It took years to build such a formidable court but it took mere seconds for it to turn to rubble. She had thought that today would be the day of goodness as based on the weather. It was in firm belief that the weather predicted the patterns of the way the day played out. So quickly it had changed to such a murky and depressing gloomy day, she never would have expected it. Yet here it was. The unmistakable change in her entire life, and that of Lavinia’s too. Delilah wondered if any other had survived or if she and Lavinia had been the sole survivors of a disaster that no one would come to care about.

The people hated the royal family of Gaunt. Why should they care about the princess all of a sudden? It was a bitter pill to swallow, to learn she had been hated by the masses this entire time. What ill-timing to have been sheltered her entire life. If she had only known…

The dust cleared and she was able to make out the fine figures of an entire army of the revolution. So soon that there she saw them, just a few steps from where she and Lavinia stood. But despite her fear and the way her body shook, Delilah didn’t stand down. No, she only clutched the royal jewels, a symbol of her power, what little may be left, and lifted her chin as if these revolutionaries were the lowest of all for the peace they disrupted. “You will turn around and leave at once. You are not welcome here at Gaunt Castle.” Her voice was strong, confident even and without any wavering, much to her surprise.

“If you have finished your violent display of murder, please, you shall find that the way back is certainly as easy as the way here.” Apparently assuming them to be idiots was her tact of the day. By the way Lavinia clenched the back of her skirt, she had a feeling it was bad timing to speak in such a way. But what could she care? Her entire family had been wiped out. Delilah believed she had every right to be just the right amount of bitter and insincere toward these revolutionaries as much as she wanted. She had the power. She ruled.

For now, she wished to believe it but in her heart, she knew.

The acrid tang of dust and smoke bit at Devlan's lips as he entered the remains of the throne room. Through the murky haze he regarded the King's prostate body lying in a dark pool of his own royal blood. With his crumpled robes and distended limbs the dead monarch resembled a kind of doll, casually tossed aside by a bored child. All the radiant tyranny that had once flowed forth was now stopped, and nothing was left but the broken vessel. Devlan sighed softly, unsure if he regretted being unable to kill the man himself - or if he was sorry to see such a redoubtable figure meet a unworthy end.

He could hear the senior girl talking, her refined tones curiously incongruous among the carnage. Devlan looked up from her dead father to regard Delilah, eyeing her with a mingled curiosity as though she were some kind of rare bird. Indeed Devlan barely knew her face; she had certainly been rarely sighted in the lower quarters of the metropolis. But the numerous propagandist's portrayals of her had not done justice to the luscious and almost unearthly beauty she possessed even at this time of great distress. Her blue dress was smeared with blood and grime, and the silk had torn on the jagged rocks. Yet that did not detract at all from the force of her presence, which struck Devlan stronger than the pungent reek of the room's wreck. He was barely paying attention to her words. Instead, with the leisured eye of the debauchee, he studied her pink inviting lips as they moved dramatically, and how her ample bosom heaved with a crimson flush as she remonstrated angrily with the revolutionaries.

"Behold, the fruits of victory," he observed to a henchman wryly. His arch, arrogant smile split his handsome face like a scar. "Our titular Queen commands us!" A few of the men laughed, but even their bitter and ironic humour was hard pressed at this moment.

"Titular, all right!" snorted one of them. "Big beautiful titulars at that!"

Devlan's smile tightened at his men's guffaws. "Show some decorum, please, gentlemen;" he drawled sarcastically. His grin dropped as he began barking orders. "As a reward for you stalwart efforts, you may make use of the one cowering behind Her Majesty there. I will take our good Queen myself - in every way I am able," Another round of bawdy laughter spluttered out of the group, then they descended on the two girls as Devlan watched. Lavinia was grabbed roughly by a mass of men who began crowding around her, while a pair of revolutionaries grabbed Delilah's arms. Devlan strode over to stand before her face-to-face, idly rubbing his chin.

The only thing that could give away the sheer embarrassment of being called the ‘Titular Queen’ and have the word ‘titular’ turned into a joke on her form, was the deep flushing shade of red that colored the elegantly displayed cleavage of her bosom, creeping up to her neck and her cheeks even. But still, the look of sheer annoyance, being completely insulted and the look of murder in her eyes was ever prevalent on her features. Though she did feel put down a notch or ten. She stood her ground firmly.

That is of course, until it was ordered for his men to have their way with Lavinia like she was some plaything and for the leader to take Delilah for himself.

“Your majesty! Your majesty!” She heard Lavinia’s cries and before Delilah could even try to break the barricade of men around her, she too was seized and held sturdily for the leader to inspect, or scrutinize as it felt.

Swallowing hard, her gaze took in his with a stern quality to them. Nothing about this was fun and games. And despite the fact she was the last royal standing, she had to do what she had to do to make sure that no harm came to Lavinia. She was not only Delilah’s first lady but also her best friend.

“I beseech you,” she started, lowering her chin and looking at the ground, a small act of submission. “Do as you wish with me, but please spare her.” She looked up at him, meeting his gaze once more, hoping the honest sincerity in her tone would be enough to save Lavinia from her torment, a fate that would only make her beg for death instead of ruin. “Please.”

A wicked ripple of laughter rolled through the ensemble, the sound ringing hollow around the charred and broken remnants of the throne room. Devlan allowed his notoriously mocking smile to widen, seemingly joining the jeers of his men at Delilah's pathetic entreaties. Yet a part of him - the small vestige of honour which held his worst inclinations in check - responded to her sincerity. He reflected that it would serve both his humour and his curiosity to see how far this girl would go, standing rageful and tear-streaked among the ruins of her realm.

"Well, this presents a ready opportunity for you to display your nobility, Princess. If you would disrobe for the amusement of the company, then the maiden over there will go unharmed." He steadied his jaw, his cobalt eyes flashing bright in the flickering flames. "Reveal your royal body in its nubile entirety, otherwise your handmaid will be given to my men behind me, by way of compensation for their travails today. You can even watch, I'm sure it wouldn't be the first time you let some unfortunate suffer for your own sake".

He glanced over as his lieutenants with the struggling Lavinia, a firm look serving as ample instruction. They restrained from mauling the trembling girl, instead shoving her to the ground and focusing on the princess instead. Returning his cool glare to Delilah, he spoke softly but firmly, the words clear above the crackling flame. "So then princess, the decision is yours. Will we make sport of this young lady here, or will you oblige us by stripping to the skin? What matters more to you, tyrant's daughter - your servants or your honour?"

Lavinia grunted as she was shoved to the ground, falling to her hands and knees. She sat up in the crumpled mess and ruin of what used to the be the confidently and strong standing throne room. She feared for the worst to happen to her, failing her lady and doubting her. Would the princess really choose Lavinia over herself?

Her chin lowered, Delilah endured the scrutiny, the laughter and jeers of his comrades around her from her embarrassing show of desperation. But she had meant it. She’d do anything he wanted if it meant saving Lavinia from a fate worse than death. She didn’t know if she would be able to stand what awaited her, but perhaps just the fact she did something different, unselfish and for someone else for once in her life would be enough strength for her to cope with what she was being propositioned in doing.

It was either strip down to her barest purity in front of these scoundrels that were hardly worth calling men for their behavior or force Lavinia to succumb to a fate that was unbecoming of her. She deserved better and if Delilah could deliver on that…perhaps mercy would shine down on her and forgive her for her sins and the sins of her father.

Lifting her chin, the princess broke free of the men holding her back and she stepped toward this wicked man. “If you so wish it.” The words were a hiss from her. “Then it shall be done.” She bit out.

“No, my lady—“
Delilah looked back at Lavinia and shook her head. “I once told you I’d do anything for you. Do you doubt me to ever go back on my word, my promise and vow, to you?”
Lavinia’s eyes watered. She understood the severity of what Delilah was going to do and for her but it still broke her heart. It was a true ultimatum.

Turning back to him, Delilah held his gaze with as much strength as she could with her own. Without saying anything further, her hands moved to the back of her stained dress, easily untying the laces, as if she had done so herself without help. Once they were undone, she pulled the front of her dress which easily gave way and loosened so she could pull the sleeves down her arms. The stained powder blue garment fell down around her, revealing her gossamer petticoat and corset. She made quick work to untie the laces at the front of the corset, as well as untying it from her petticoat which she loosened as well. The silk tresses gave way, pooling around her bare ankles, revealing the thinnest of chiffon materials of a see through slip. It left very little to the imagination, the blonde curls between her legs slightly showing through.

Pulling her corset from her body, she shoved it down to the ground, her voluptuous and pert breasts revealed to him, pink nipples catching the cool air and hardening slightly from the change of temperature. Untying the thin slip, the chiffon material tumbled down to her ankles, joining her dress and petticoat in the lying rubble and ruin on the ground. Lifting her arms, she unpinned the hair net from the back of her head, letting the jeweled pins fall to the ground like they were nothing, along with the hairnet. Untying the ribbon at the end of her braid, she untangled her long blonde hair from their bonds, thick tresses lying down to the middle of her back, not obscuring the sight of her rounded bottom from view to the cavemen behind her.

Lavinia looked away from the sight of her lady, her best friend and a couple of tears trickled down her cheeks. It was an honor most certainly bestowed upon her and yet a looming guilt hung over her. Had she just failed her best friend, her princess?

Kneeling down, Delilah picked up the crown jewels and draped them around her neck, letting it be the only thing she wore. It was a symbol of the power she believed she still held. It was strong enough apparently to grant Lavinia clemency, even though Delilah had to take her place. It was a small price to pay, otherwise the guilt of what she could have otherwise let happen to her best friend would have killed her. She needed her strength. It was all she had now, for she feared for the sake of her purity and honor.

Raising her chin, her hands stayed at her side, clenched into tight fists but she didn’t back down. “Satisfied?”

A profound silence hung over proceedings as Delilah undressed. Even the cracking flame seen subdued, with all intensity and energy seemingly concentrated solely on her. Somewhere distant cries and shouts were still ringing out, but they were no more relevant or heeded than errant birdcalls. The adrenaline that had fueled Devlan and his men was by now spent, stilled by the impeccable beauty of the princess and the poise with which she revealed it. Despite their uncouth and certainly carnal inclinations, there was something about being in the presence of a beautiful young noblewoman that momentarily restrained their energies.

Devlan arched an eyebrow in surprise at the Princess' decorous submission. Certainly she was of finer mettle than most, and regardless of any sentiment he had about her bloodline he could not deny her courage. This did not elicit any particular respect from him, however; more of a detached amusement at her petulant display. Even when forced to disrobe in front of a dozen men, she still insisted on maintaining control. He wondered what it would take to crack this stalwart exterior, and expose the real woman within.

Turning to his lieutenants with a wry grin, Devlan jerked his chiseled chin off to the side, gesturing that Lavinia was all theirs. "Take her away lads, you've more than earned it." With a delirious whoop the sooty and sweaty rebels dragged the struggling handmaiden off, tearing her gown to pieces like a horde of pecking crows. They disappeared into a pile of shattered pillars that was once the mighty entrance hall of the Palace; fractured faces blown from the mosaics that had lined the walls watched on with dead-eyed dullness. Very quickly Lavinia's horrified shrieks and the rebel's delighted whoops gave ample evidence as to what was proceeding out of eyeshot.

Devlan's stare narrowed as his arrogant smile broadened. It was now only him and his lieutenant standing there with Delilah, the trio silent among the carnage and cries. Wordlessly the two men took the princess by her arms, languorously relishing every angle of her naked body as they manhandled her. Deaf to her entreaties and protests, they pulled the thrashing girl across to what remained of the ancient stone throne, now lying cracked in two on its side. The greying remains of the King seemed to watch on from nearby, his lifeless eyes reflecting the scene like glass globes.

The lieutenant bent Delilah over the broken slab of black marble, white veins and gold flecks running through the midnight stone. He held her wrists firmly in a steel grip, while Devlan approached her from behind. Removing his leather glove the rebel lord ran a callused and leathern hand across the immaculately smooth ivory mound of Delilahs backside, then landed a firm hard slap with a wicked laugh. Swiftly an angry red impression appeared on the milky flesh. Kicking aside her ankles he sighed as her legs splayed out and the soft pink fold that lay between them was revealed. He tenderly stroked the vivid blossom, admiring it like a dewy rose freshly bloomed in the morning. "Well then," he cooed in a mock-amorous tone, "whats say he take a slice of this delicious peach?"

It was the moment of truth. Surely she made a true sacrifice but at least Lavinia would be unharmed. Sure, Delilah’s reputation would be completely tarnished but perhaps she would have some respite later in life. Unlike her family before her, she did something unselfish and she wouldn’t take it back one bit.

That is of course, until the moment this brute gave word for his men to have their wicked way with Lavinia. Delilah turned and watched as they hoisted her away, her screams and pleas for mercy striking through her harshly. “No! No!” She made a hasty beat toward her best friend but was stopped short when Devlan and his brute right hand grabbed her by both arms. She was halted in her steps but she still struggled. It was probably not the smartest thing to do since she was naked and these were clearly devilish and depraved men with the foulest of intentions in mind but she didn’t care. Lavinia needed her.

“Please…no…” Her eyes watered at the realization that despite her best intentions, she still failed. The sounds of her best friend’s shrieks and cries as she was defiled repeatedly would forever haunt her. It was part of the process that finally chinked her armor, breaking her just slightly. Delilah watched for years as her father betrayed his many allies, turning his back on them without even the slightest hesitation. She learned to do the same, shutting down her conscience so she wouldn’t feel the guilt. She had succeeded then but Lavinia…she was different. She was like her sister and despite her lower status, Delilah always thought of her as family. And she just failed the last bit of family she had.

Her spirit was bruised like a peach and she couldn’t even fight them as they dragged her off somewhere. Her family’s crown jewels slipped from her hands in a minor act of submission. As they bent her over the cold marble slab, the smoothness of the surface cool and uncomfortable against her soft skin, tears trickled down her cheeks. She didn’t even fight when her wrists were restrained. She just felt shame and absolute defeat.

A stinging pain pierced her rear and she closed her eyes, a choked sob of a cry sounding from her. Shame, anguish and absolute embarrassment flooded through her which only made the tears rain down harder on her cheeks. Feeling him spread her legs not too gently, a soft whimper came from her at the violation of the touch. His hands were rough, coarse and felt…odd. She didn’t understand the sensation one bit. She started struggling again, her throat feeling blocked with the large lump that filled it from the sudden rush of emotion and unshed tears, despite how much she had already cried.

“You said she would be unharmed.” She choked out. “You promised! You lied to me! Does it give you any kind of satisfaction to abuse and defile young women just to exert your male bravado?” Her voice wavered through her tears but there was still the courage of her convictions resonant in her tone. “Is this how you believe in honor?! Breaking down any life? You’re no better than my father!” She looked at the man who stood before her, holding her wrists down and she spit in his face.

A vivid flicker of rage flashed across the lieutenant's face when Delilah spat at him. But it quickly passed into a sneer, like a flash of lightning reverting to the black of the thundercloud. Releasing one of her wrists, he landed a hard stinging slap across her soft white cheek, turning it a scarlet shade. "Naughty little girl with a big mouth! Well, we know what to do about that!". Half-snarling across to Devlan, he growled "Grab 'er arms, boss! Let's show this little minx what to expect from now on! Let's do it 'er what 'er fuckin' family's been doing to us for years!" Hatred burned in his eyes like a forest fire, boring hard into Delilah's tearsoaked orbs. This only aroused him even further, and spittle frothed at his lips like a rabid dog as he fumbled at his belt.

Her words fell upon Devlan's ears harsh and clear like a cool morning rainfall. The accusation of hypocrisy stung him somewhere in the back of his mind; certainly there could be no worst insult for him than to be compared to the late King. But this was not the time for weakness, and he could definitely show no mercy in front of his men. At any rate the throbbing intensity he felt in his crotch was aching for release. He seized her failing arms, tight enough to leave a bracelet of purple bruises around her slender wrists. Holding them both in one firm fist he undid his belt with the other, then used the leather strap to bind her arms together. Keeping a controlling grip he undid his trousers, his raging engorged member springing forth like a cobra for it's pit.

His lieutenant curled a filthy hand in her silken locks, while holding his own angry rod with the other. Grunting hoarsely he guided her resisting head down onto it, sliding the angry cock into her wet and cool mouth. He was far too large to fit in smoothly, and forced his way harder while Delilah emitted a weird series of choking noises. "There now," he moaned. "Better use for it than making pretty speeches, eh princess?"

Devlan took her roughly from behind, piercing her virgin flower with the ferocity of a swordthrust. The soft velvet fold yielded to him slowly, like a silken glove slowly grasping around his member. His eyes fluttered as a small groan escaped him. Maintaining his painful hold on her bound wrists, he began to roughly knead one of her smooth creamy asscheeks. Each penetration stroked in deeper, her untouched tightness succumbing to his virile force.

Together both men proceeded to work her lissome body like a piston, neither of them showing her any mercy. Delilah's generous, firm young breasts where crushed into the cold stone of the broken throne, while her supple thighs were pushed roughly up against the broken stone. Devlan's slow but aggressive rape lifted her up onto her toes, while the lieutenant's crude and violent violation of her mouth choked her cruelly and forced her back onto the vicious thrusts from behind. Grunts, groans and moans began to echo around the shattered chamber as the unfortunate Delilah bore the brunt of all their frustrations and fury.

None of it matter. None of it stopped them. In fact, her choice of words at questioning their manhood and their honor only seemed to anger this brute’s right hand man so much that he struck her across the cheek. She grunted in a most unladylike manner and her face turned, the stinging in her cheek far more painful than her failure. But it did feel good in the sense that for a moment, she only felt the physical pain. Not the mental or emotional pain in failing Lavinia, or for Delilah’s impending doom. Here she was, being held down and at the mercy of two men who had the wickedest of intentions in mind. She knew that she was not leaving the remains of the throne room with her purity and pride intact. Quite the opposite in fact.

Understanding dawned on her and before she could really react, before she could actually do something before being officially restrained down, her arms were grabbed and she felt something bind them. A strong hand came into her hair and before she saw it happening, his thick and hard organ pushed roughly into her mouth. He was too big and he stretched her mouth painfully, her jaw screaming in protest. Several loud but muffled screams of her own protest sounded from her. Delilah didn’t even try to hide her teeth. They pressed roughly into the man’s defiler but it didn’t seem to deter him. He forced himself in and she had to retract her teeth. She had to do something to make this process easier because he pushed into her throat. That made her eyes water all over again, tears streaming down her cheeks.

But it didn’t end there. From behind, she felt the stinging pain of the more terrible violation as the brute robbed her of her purity so roughly. Her muffle cries sounded again against the throbbing organ in her mouth, in her throat but she didn’t gag. She just cried as these two men defiled her in the most repulsive and cruelest ways imaginable. Even as the underlying pain vanished in her womanhood creating a small bit of pleasure, she couldn’t give in. In truth, it was a general pain but the part of her that would never admit—and even prayed that her body didn’t betray her—was that there was a piece of pleasure in this mix.

Even though they were doing her wrong, hurting her and robbing from her whatever she had left of her strength, this brute that was defiling her from behind was hitting spots and pleasure points in her that she only heard of, but never knew of. She was likely to experience them with her betrothed had all of this never happened, but that wasn’t the case. It was happening now and while it was painful, violent and very forceful, even crude and absolutely rude, there was something…

It was even more shameful that she even felt anything positive aside from pain. But her cries of pain and her tears didn’t give her away. Her body on the other hand, it might have because she grew wetter. And altogether, it stopped being painful altogether except for the right hand man that was defiling her mouth and throat. So she bit down again when he pulled back and she bit down hard, so hard she felt the metallic crude taste of blood. And then to her satisfaction, his screams of horror when he slipped out of her mouth, blood spurting down on the ground.

Delilah spit out what she bit off, the head of his member. Oops. Of this though, she felt no remorse.

Even though he was among the dramatic surrounds of a destroyed throne room, all of Devlan's attentions wer.we focused on the squirming girl he was violating. Where just a few hours before he had been a idealistic revolutionary with his goals focused on loftier things, now he was just a vengeful and sadistic rapist having his way with a helpless virgin. But he simply could not have helped himself. Delilah was most definitely physically appealing, yet Devlan felt he could have looked past that. Instead it was her haughty, self-righteous demeanour that had truly fired his animalistic assault on her virtue. It filled him with a fury he could only assuage with her immediate debasement, with all his sharpened survival instincts ignored.

He dug his fingers deep into her ivory flanks, leaving violet bruisemarks across her white skin like petals strewn over marble. There was a soft warmness to her body that he was long since unfamiliar with, and it was intoxicating him. On the other side, his lieutenant was gagging the girl viciously while she emitted a series of wet, choking noises. As she shook with wails and sobs he could feel the shivers passing through her into his own body. Devlan was now completely lost in the moment, enraptured by a delight he'd never experienced before. He had to find to hold down a groan of his own as the soft, wet space between her lissome thighs surrender to his firm thrusts. The more he forced her forward, the more his lieutenant pushed her back, and the impaled princess was trapped like a piglet on a spitroast. Devlan looked up to grin broadly at his cohort, like a drunk. But then he noticed a look of primal shock pass across the man's face, and all colour drain from it. As he watched on, with the steady detachment of a man who had seen a lot of violence, the lieutenant staggered back over the rubble with blood pouring forth from between his legs. It was immediately obvious he'd been unmanned by the princess' teeth.

Devlan was stunned, but managed to contain his shock. Nonetheless he felt his lustful ardour suddenly doused by the grisly spectacle before him. For a few moments he watched his mortally wounded lieutenant, as the man tottered backwards before collapsing in a whimpering heap among the rubble. Then, with a cynical arch of an eyebrow, Devlan laughed. It was a cold, hollow laugh; like some stones being rattled in a tin. "Well brother, you always did vow to die among the ruins of the old realm," he intoned dryly.

Quickly retying his belt, the revolutionary leader turned his attention back to the ravished princess. "It seems your teeth are even more dangerous than your tongue, girl! I wonder if we'll have to take them all out to make you more amenable, eh?" Grabbing one of the silken shreds of her tattered down, he quickly bound her skinny wrists with the frayed blue cloth. Then he pulled her up onto her feet, pressing himself up against the girl as she struggled to stand. "Wild little hellcat you are, I think we're going to have to instill in you some manners." Bellowing to his men, he ordered them to return to the shattered room. They came back in a chortling cluster, dragging the beaten and bloodied body of Lavinia with them. The handmaiden was alive, but only just. When the rebel's attention was turned to the now deceased lieutenant - and moreover the gruesome mutilation - they stared in bewilderment at Devlan and with rage at Delilah.

"Looks like this one's earned your attentions after all," said Devlan, pushing the princess into the group of men. "Just don't go sticking it in her mouth, seems like she's got a taste for cock." The rebels began to viciously abuse and molest her, seeking vengeance for their murdered friend.

To her delight, the brutal pounding she felt behind her began to slow down as the realization of what she did dawned on the man. The man whose penis she had bitten off, staggered back before collapsing onto the ground, bleeding to death until his tremors, shrieks of pain and struggling ceased. Now all he became was just another body among the ruins, dead and lifeless. It was the first time she killed and if she had to admit how it felt, she’d say it felt good. This man was raping her face. He deserved to die the way she had condemned him.

What broke the silence of it, aside from the distant cries of pain, hoots of laughter and grunts she heard in the background, was his laughter. The man behind her, the leader of it all, just laughed. But the sound sickened her because there was nothing humorous in his laughter, neither was it infectious. Shivers ran up her spine and not the good kind. As he addressed her, a soft whimper came from her. Delilah hadn’t even thought of the repercussions. She was just acting in the moment because she had wanted that vile piece of human organ out of her mouth. Fear spiked in her levels and she worried about what he had in store for her.

Wrists tied and pulled off the slab of broken marble, her body was hoisted up into his and she gasped softly. Looking up at him, Delilah swallowed hard. Around her mouth was bloody and some of her face had been sprayed with blood but she seemed to wear it proudly rather than have a mental breakdown over the fact she killed. She didn’t care. He deserved it. And it felt like it hardened her a little bit.

Until of course, the leader called in his pack of wild, horny dogs and Delilah saw very well what they had done to Lavinia. Instinct made her step forward to get to her but she was held back. “Lavinia…” She whispered, her lips trembling. She wasn’t even sure if her best friend was still alive. It looked like she was hanging on by a very thin rope. She was so bruised, beaten and bloodied, it broke her heart. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her anger returned. But that was when he threw her at his dogs and they caught her. But they didn’t abandon Lavinia. Both girls were pulled together and the men had their wicked way with them.

Delilah screamed and she fought but that made them hit her. Though her arms were free because they were still restrained and they took the brunt of any hits that were aimed for her face. But a few hits got in, splitting her lower lip, bruising her cheek, even a black eye. One final hit to her stomach had her defenses weaken and she hardly struggled as they raped her. Tears streamed out of her eyes the entire time and when she tilted her head, she saw Lavinia was in a similar position. She didn’t fight. They had her bent over, on her hands and knees and she took it. But each time her arms gave out on her, they forced her back up. And they would hit her when she kept falling.

When it was all over, both girls lay side by side in the ruins. Delilah was breathing but every inch of her ached. Her head tilted and she looked to Lavinia who lay flat on her stomach. With all the strength she could muster, Delilah pushed herself up and crawled over to her weakly. Gently, she turned her friend onto her back and heard a soft whimper come from her. Her body had bleeding cuts and bruises on them, her face had so many bruises, her milky white skin was covered with purple and red. Blood had trickled out of the corner of her mouth. Her eyes opened slightly and she coughed. But when she coughed, blood splattered out and her entire body recoiled in pain.

“I-I’m sorry my lady.” She whispered, so weak. Her breathing was very faint and she wasn’t going to hold on much longer.
“Shh…shhh.” Delilah gently cradled her dying friend in her arms and leaned down, kissing her forehead ever so softly. Tears slipped passed her eyes and she sniffled. “I should be apologizing. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

Lavinia managed to turn into the comfort of her friend’s arms and she turned her cheek. She coughed again and more blood splattered onto Delilah’s thigh. “I wanted to hold on as long as I could.” She wheezed.
“I know. But your fight is over. You can be at peace now.” She smoothed her hand over Lavinia’s hair, not letting her go.

“Give…them…” She coughed one more time. “Hell.” She whispered her last breath, unable to hang on any further. A few seconds went by and Lavinia’s breathing stopped altogether and her body became very still. Her eyes were closed and she lived no longer.

“Lavinia?” She shook her gently, but her best friend didn’t move. “Lavinia?” She said her name louder and her breathing came short, her eyes pooling with more tears. “Lavinia…” She whimpered, cradling her in her arms, sobbing. She had failed her. She failed her best friend and these brutal monsters murdered her.

Arms came around her and Delilah was forced to let her friend go. “No! No!” She screamed, but the strong arms around her persisted, pulling her away, dragging her as they had to since she fought them. One man slapped her hard across the face, essentially slapping her struggle out of her and she stopped fighting. Her wrists were once more bound and a long rope extended from them. She was pulled along by one man upon orders and she began to file in behind the men as they left the ruins and remains of her kingdom, her home and her people.

She was still sniffling, the loss of her friend hurting her deeply, but Delilah managed to calm herself down. She walked in silence, her head bowed and every inch of her body ached. The stones and unpaved ground beneath her bare feet cut in but she didn’t let that stop her. She simply continued on, though it was difficult to muster the strength. Every part of her felt exhausted, tired, beaten and broken. But for Lavinia’s sake, she couldn’t give up. Otherwise her best friend would have died in vain.

In the heart of downtown lay the Citadel, a sprawling granite behemoth that was like the Palace's ugly cousin. For many years it had served as the regime's prison, and stood in the heart of the city like a squat ugly ogre, casting a looming ominous shadow over the entire population. It was an icon of tyranny, an ugly stepsister to the palace. But the tide of revolution had now swept over the bar, and the Citadel had been reborn as its center. The governor's palace was now Devlin's headquarters, and the bright scarlet flag of his case flew from the parapet overhead.

The city itself was now silent. A thick black pall still hung overhead like a mourner's shroud, choking the air. But the violence that had begun at dawn was now stilled. The wave of rebellion had crashed onto the rocks, breaking the ship of state. Now the debris ebbed around everyone's feet, and a curious peace settled like a storm had passed. The group from the palace wandered through the shattered streets, passing scenes of carnage without a second glance. Indeed most of Devlin's men where proud of the work, and smiled at the shattered townhouses and scattered bodies of the aristocracy. Their grim remains dotted the ruins like a grisly tableaux.

Eventually the ragged group found themselves at the foot of the Citadel's massive entrance. Delilah had been dragged through the broken remnants of her fathers realm by a hemp noose, lead like a slave or dog through the silent chaos. An irregular series of bloodied footprints lead back to the ruins of the palace, and more of the gore from the man she had emasculated was still splattered across her. She looked vastly different from when she had passed through these streets as a princess. None of the cowed and weary citizens picking through the rubble even recognized her; and apparently the sight of a naked young girl being abused by some revolutionary thugs either no longer shocked them, or they willfully turned their eyes away to focus on their own troubles.

With his wicked grin blazing once more, Devlin turned towards Delilah. "Welcome to your new home, girl! It's not quite as accommodating as the Palace of course; but then my friends and I certainly spent enough time here under your father's governance, and I'm sure you'll learn to love it as we did!" He laughed bitterly, echoed by several of his dull-eyed henchmen. Looking towards them, Devlin ordered "Take her to one of the dungeons; somewhere near where all the screaming happens. She can rest a while there until I come back for some further attentions." Wordlessly, his men seized Delilah's slender bound arms and proceeded to drag her up the stairs into the dark tomb of the Citadel, while Devlin followed behind them.

The walk to their final destination was a painful one for Delilah but mustering up the strength of Lavinia and her people and ancestors pushed her to keep going and not make a single sound. Though her feet throbbed and she could feel coarse stones cutting the bottoms of the soft flesh even more with each step she took, she only flinched and winced, but didn’t make a sound. She didn’t dare attract more ire from these barbarians.

Along the journey, she noticed the ruins that they passed along, the carnage of corpses and the dead left to become part of nature once more or food for stray animals. Everywhere she looked, she saw ruin, defeat and further proof that these rebels wreaked havoc over. The kingdom had fallen officially when they shot their cannons at the palace, slaying the king and everyone else inside, whether they were nobles, royals or even peasants. Now here she was, the only remaining member of nobility and royalty but after what she had endured, she was just another captive from war. Stripped of her title and royal standing, yes, but in her heart she was still a princess. And if she was truly her father’s daughter, despite his vices and faults and lack of mercy, she would not let these rebels break her. That didn’t mean Lavinia’s death or her father’s or everyone else she loved that perished didn’t break her. It did. But there was still strength in her. It was all she had left to hang onto, lest she succumb to the final string snapping and thrusting her into a world of incurable insanity.

They reached their destination and once more, Delilah looked upon the wreckage. Bodies of the dead and shattered buildings, anything to signify some kind of aristocratic power, completely in shambles or perished. Those who were around looking as battered as she was hardly took notice, as if the novelty had worn off of seeing a naked beaten, battered and bruised woman being pulled along like nothing more than a slave. That alarmed her. Nothing was sensitive anymore. Cleary those around this area had seen too much that it didn’t even matter. That or they were too preoccupied with what they were doing, shoveling through the ruins, probably trying to pick up what remained of their sanity.

Before her, Delilah saw the granite building which she knew to have been a prison where the kingdom’s criminals were sent, along with criminals of other kingdoms. It was a solid structure, impregnable and the best fit for the most dangerous of her kingdom’s or any other kingdom’s worst, a far cry of the devil’s rejects. Now it made sense to her. These men, these rebels, they were the prisoners, the worst of several kingdoms and they revolted. Their cruelty and merciless natures made sense now. They didn’t have any hearts or souls. They were…monsters.

Swallowing hard, she looked up at their leader as he so acidly welcomed her to her new hell. She looked down though, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of any dismay that crossed her features. Instead, after his little speech, she was taken by two men down to the dungeons just as he ordered

The dungeon she was taken into, one of the many vast ‘accommodations’ they had in this building, was not empty. No, she heard the screams, cries of agony, pleas for release or mercy—anything—before they opened the door. As if to give her a better idea or to further rub it into her face, she was taken down the aisle of cells that were filled. And Delilah made the mistake of looking rather than staring at the ground. There she saw men and women chained or nailed to keep them restrained. A horror-stricken thought came unwelcome in her mind; what happened to the children?

After the gruesome path down, she was taken to an empty cell and shoved in rather brutally. After all the endless walking, her aching body could no longer hold up and she fell forward rather than catching herself, falling on the damp and dank cement floor harshly on her knees. Still, she did not whimper. Before she could scurry to a corner, one of the men walked in and grabbed the noose that they had dragged her by and freed her. But it was short lived as she was taken to the wall where she was shackled. Her wrists shackled to a plaster of wood with chains and cuffs nailed in but low enough that she was able to sit rather than stay standing. That was her only reprieve. Her legs were bent to the side of her and she rested her head back on the wood plank, her gaze meeting the two men that looked at her with a leery gaze.

Licking her bloodstained lips, a chilling smile came to her face. “Come closer. I have room and plenty of want for more.”

Both men started but remembering how she emasculated their fallen brethren, they immediately backed away, but one stayed behind long enough to backhand her across her cheek. Her face turned sharply and she spit out the blood that pooled in her mouth from the hit. He forcefully grabbed her chin and made her look at him. “I will relish when he finally announces your death. And I will be there to bear witness or even be the one to kill you, just as you killed my fallen cousin.” His face came closer to hers and Delilah took that opportunity to lurch forward and bite his nose. She latched on hard, even as he growled in pain and then forcefully wrenched her face to the side, hearing the satisfying bone crack.

He howled as he stepped back and cupped his now broken nose, stumbling out of the cell. The other guard walked inside and produced a chain mouth shield and applied it over her mouth but not her nose. “Bite into this and your teeth will shatter.” He bit out, a sadistic smile appearing on his face. “Here’s to hoping you will, Princess.” He sneered, locking it into place before stepping back, leaving and locking her in the cell.

Despite her predicament, there was a sense of satisfaction that washed over her. The amount of damage she could cause…she would accept the punishment because she would never stop fighting. No matter what they did to her until she died or they executed her, she would always fight back. Or in this case, bite back.

Devlin sneered in annoyance at the princesses' little performance. Was there no end to this girl's annoyance? The wretched thing was becoming far more trouble than she could possibly be worth. Perhaps it would be easily simply to slip a hemp noose around that slender neck and dangle her from the castle walls, along with many others of her class who now ornamented the battlements like strange fruit. But then, that would deny him the satisfaction of breaking her. The harder she fought back, the more he wanted to see her grovel. That was almost all Devlin could think of it and it was consuming him.

Perhaps a new tactic was in order, he pondered thoughtfully, as he watched her through the grill of the prison door. Idly he chewed on his chafed bottom lip, then turned to one of his men guarding the passage. "Go down to the sewer level, bring up a gaggle of the madwomen from down there. Quickly now, and carefully. Take a few of you and don't hesitate to kill any of them who get dangerous. Then introduce them to our princess here. I'm sure she'll be grateful for their company."

The sewer level of the dungeons was a sightless, fetid hell where prisoners had been consigned to oblivion. Nobody ever returned from there, and the unfortunates trapped in the stinky gloom invariably lost there minds. The place was like a waking nightmare, where the feral crazed inmates shrieked and raved in the blackness, feeding on filth and each other. It was a frightening enough place even for a heavily-armed, bold man. Devlin's guards winced at the idea but followed suit nonetheless.

It took them some time to corral the insane women from down there. One of their number disappeared into the black during the mission, never to be seen again. Those who did return would never forget the endless hour they spend down there. But they managed to noose and chain five of them - naked, white-eyed drooling creatures barely recognizable as human. Their nails were a long and savage as knives, and their teeth had been sharped to fangs on bones and stone. More than anything they resembled ghouls; their flesh was so pallid the veins could be seen beneath and their hair strung down in matted clumps.

Devlin threw open the cell door, grinning wickedly at the bound and gagged girl. "You have company, princess!" he jeered as the naked, frothing madwomen were kicked and shoved into her cell. "We'll leave you to become acquainted for a few hours, or so. Perhaps when I return you will be a little more obliging to your hosts! He slammed the door shut with a loud metallic rang, its cold sound as loud and hollow as the savage laughter of the guards.

Her victory was premature. As much as she enjoyed sitting there feeling the satisfaction of reminding them that she would never break, that satisfaction quickly filled with dread. The smugness and confidence she felt in potentially surviving vanished. Her smile was gone and fear filled her eyes. The creatures they brought in terrified her and she plastered herself back against the wall as tightly as she could as five bodies were shoved in. While they were noosed and chained, the moment they were pushed into the cell and saw her, they began to descend upon her. Being chained herself, Delilah had no way to defend herself. And being bound did not stop these creatures.

Looking at them, she could tell that they were once human resembling. Their bodies and faces had traces of human left but their mannerisms had no trace of humanity left. They were savaged, wild, and crazed monsters and they descended upon her like she was the freshest meat they had a chance to feast upon.

Their teeth were bared; sharp, dirty and crusted in blood, they snarled and breathed like they were of the undead. They could smell how fresh she was and they wanted to gobble her right up until there was nothing left of her. Fear surged in but adrenaline was nowhere to be found. Delilah could do nothing, save for one thing. If she did this, there would be no turning back. If she gave in, her life was literally in the hands of these barbarian men who took everything away that she loved. But it would be better than to be eaten alive.

Delilah screamed, a blood-curdling sound that wracked her entire being. One creature latched onto her but thankful that her legs were free, she started to kick. She kicked one back, sending it into the bars harshly. She kicked another with the heel of her foot right in their neck and heard the faint sound of bone breaking. She kept kicking and screaming, quite literally because her life hung in the balance. She would rather be executed. She would rather die naturally in a cell by herself. She was not going to die because she was a meal to what used to be women, now crazed with insanity and hunger like a wild beast. “I concede! I concede!” She screamed. “Anything! Absolutely anything! Please!” She cried out, screaming louder when she felt sharp teeth piece her calf, tears now streaming freely down her cheeks. “I will obey!” She truly meant it, almost more than any other time in her entire life.

Devlin grinned a death's head grimace at the ghoulish spectacle unfolding in the cell. There was no torment he considered too much for this wretched girl. Already sickened by her arrogance and pomposity, he had been truly infuriated by the unmanning of one of his best lieutenants. For a few feverish moments he considered just leaving her to her fate. It would not be a pretty one; the horde of madwomen would tear the flesh from her bones, literally eating her alive from the legs up. He wondered how long she would last, and if she too would go insane before they finally killed her. But he had other plans, and swallowed down his bile.

"By the gods, what a pair of lungs on that bitch!" sneered one of his men as Delilah screamed for mercy. "Now I see what they called 'er the Nightingale, 'cause she sure sings like one!"

Devlin turned to the assembled guards. "Alright lads, I think the cunt has learned her lesson. Finish off those creatures, and bring her back out." A trio of his thugs drew their swords and cautiously re-entered the cell. Wasting no time, they quickly hacked the madwomen to death while the fiends were distracted with Delilah. Then they took the sobbing, wailing girl down, half-dragging her as her once flawless ivory-skinned legs were now a mess of bites and cuts.

With a few sharp slaps across her face Devlin calmed her down. "A bit different to your usual social encounters, eh princess?" He chuckled with a cold rattle as he nodded to his men. "Take her out to the stocks, it's time for her highness to meet her adoring public."

Out the front of the Citadel there was a scaffold, which had long been the scene of numerous grisly executions and mutilations intended to terrify the public. It was currently adorned with the remains of numerous members of the old regime, all despised for their greed and sadism. Along the front of the scaffold were several sets of stocks, where unfortunates had been trapped for days on end, often for no crime worse than failing to doff their hat before their betters. Delilah was dragged back out through the grim vaults again, a thin trail of blood left smeared behind her like a snail's slime. She was locked in place in one of the iron stocks, bent over at a painful angle, her neck and wrists trapped tight in the cold steel.

Around the scaffold several former prisoners of the Citadel were milling about, regaining their senses after being trapped in the bowels of hell for so long. Other curious citizens were also present, helping themselves to various items that had been looted from the building. All of them looked on with interest as Devlin and his men trapped Delilah in the vicious clamps.

"Good people!" bellowed Devlin in his masterful voice. "It has been decreed by the Revolutionary Council that all property once held by the old regime is now collective property. See here, the whore daughter of the tyrant king!" He grabbed Delilah's hair, matted with sweat and filth, and yanked it back hard so she faced the crowd. "As a consequence, her body is now the property of the people! All former prisoners of her father as permitted to do as they will with her!"

One moment these creatures were biting her, trying to tear into her the next they stopped. But Delilah didn’t stop screaming. Her body racked with pain. She had bites and knicks all over her legs. Her once creamy skin was now bloody.

Soon she was being pulled from the cell, unchained and even her chain mouth guard was ripped from her face, marring her skin a little. She was still in hysterics until sharp slaps hit her face. She came to a gasping stop and looked at Devlin, still highly rattled and oblivious from the pain that was biting her.

She couldn’t say anything. She was dragged out of the dungeons and soon breathed in the rank fresh air, marred with the stench of death and poor hygiene. Whimpers and soft cries came from her at how roughly she was shackled into something and only once it was done, did she realize where she was. She was bound, bent over and now there was a wild speech being made.

Shivers and trembles hit her body and Delilah began fighting again. She started thrashing in the holds, trying to get out, not caring if she died while trying to escape or if it hurt her. What would come her way now would hurt worse. And in the ensuing battle, she did not see or realize. Hands were on her and all of a sudden, with brute force and wicked determination, an erect phallus was being shoved inside of her.

Her entire body stilled and she cried out in pain, tears stinging her eyes again. This man was brutal. He even grabbed her hair roughly over the border of the iron holding her head and arms in. Each time he thrust, her head hit back against the iron. Her eyes shut tightly, tears streaming down her face. Each thrust hit her harder and harder. Then he was gone with a heavy grunt, being pushed away only for another to take his place. It seemed many prisoners, all of her father’s enemies, wanted a piece of the deceased king’s daughter, taking all their frustrations with him out on her and her body.

One man even crawled beneath her and pushed himself up so he could penetrate up into her pussy. Another man stood behind her and with one hole filled, he took the other. He forced himself into her ass and plundered that hole. Delilah screamed now. Pain. An odd and twisted sense of pleasure coursing through her. But there was more pain.

“She’s feeling it. Oh, this little bitch is feeling it now!”
“Give me her! Let me have her while she’s enjoying this!” Another pushed into her ass and even grunted into her ear, “The royal whore is enjoying it, isn’t she?” He cackled.

And word traveled. The princess enjoyed being defiled.

At one point, her legs gave out and she fell to her knees. That only made it easier for multiple men to top her. One beneath her claiming her cunt and another behind her claiming her ass. Men braved to fuck her mouth. She didn’t have the power to bite. Each time another man took her, her resolve broke. Each time another man taunted her, Delilah’s hope crumbled. The more her head was pulled back into the iron, she felt the matting of blood against her head and felt her will slipping away further and further.

She lost count of how many prisoners took her. How many of them unleashed inside of her. How many sick orgasms she had. Eventually she became dry enough that her body was no longer of service. A few men tried to get her going again but it couldn’t stick. And it became too painful. Dry rubbing on dry.

Then she was left there. Her eyes were closed, her face covered in a haphazard smattering of spit and semen. Her body abused. Her head throbbing. Both of her holes leaking with cum and a little blood. The sun went down. It was dark and she was left there among the other bodies. Her head hung low, her hands flaccid and limp and her body was unmoving. She wasn’t really sleeping. She was just kind of...out. The blackness was her only friend right now. And it wasn’t even that comforting among the groans and cries for mercy she heard here and there. Her breathing was shallow and slow and the cold began to seep in. The fight was fucked out of her. Her will was broken. All the light had gone from her eyes but there was still life there, just barely hanging on.

“Mama…” She rasped weakly and hoarsely. “I see you.”

Devlin watched Deliiah's ordeal for hours, sitting impassively in on a nearby bench as the girl was repeatedly brutalized. She was like a songbird, whose cries and wails touched a very particular part of his coal-black heart. The whole vicious spectacle was a real piece of a theatre and certainly achieved the desired effect. Just as the revolution had been won in people's minds by the destruction of the Palace, so too had it been won with the destruction of Delilah's mind and spirit. All that remained now was her body, and that was practically being torn to pieces by the mob. Every one of the former prisoners had taken their full revenge upon this symbol of everything that had made them suffer.

Eventually they exhausted themselves and Delilah was finally left alone, hanging like a ragged scarecrow in the cold cobblestone space. A full day had passed, and now a peach and orange belt spread across the jagged horizon as the sun began to set. Some kind of peculiar silence hung over everything, like the peace that follows a storm.

Rising from his rest, Devlin paced slowly and silently over to the limp Delilah. He surveyed her battered body, with her ivory skin now smeared black, blue and red from the brutality of her ordeal. Faintly he could hear mumbled words escaping her cut and chafed lips. Seizing a fistful of her matted hair he pulled her head back, regarding the battered mess it had come. Her bright sparkling eyes were now dulled, and although they looked straight at him they could clearly see nothing.

He nodded at two of his men, who had been seated in the frame of the gallows. Silently, they unshackled Delilah's limp body from the stocks, her battered frame pale in the dying light. With an usual sense of gentleness they lay her on a long canvas sack which would serve as an impromptu stretcher. Then, lifting her from the ground, the solemn pair followed Devlin as he walked back into the Citadel. This time they did not descend the steps, but instead headed towards the living quarters which had now been co-opted by the revolution's leaders. Devlin himself had taken the commander's suite, which was sparse but comfortable, taking up most of one of the Citadel's corner towers. It had a bathroom with plumping, an extremely rare luxury. A heavy brass bath occupied nearly a quarter of it, along with the battered stove that kept it warm.

Carefully, as if handling a broken toy, Devlin's men lowered Delilah into the deep brass bowl. It was a carefully balanced temperature, which was maintained by a silent gray woman who sat beside the stove. She had been there when Devlin arrived, and never seemed to leave; almost as if she was a natural part of the Citadel's own stone. The men left, with Devlin cautiously regarding the old lady. "One of the prisoners here told me you were a healer," he said, carefully weighing the words. "See if you can revive this one." He looked over Delilah slowly, as if he was just seeing her for the first time. "I need her hale and hearty if she's going to be my wife." Then he left, locking the door behind him.

She hardly noticed when someone approached. She didn’t hear a word. She was in some other land where she was waiting eagerly to be welcomed in her mother’s arms again. Then all of a sudden her head was lifted and before she could even touch her mother, she was brought back to the world of pain that currently smothered her head. With how many times her head was hit against the edge of the iron as those men brutally fucked her, she was surprised she was still alive and that her brain hadn’t turned into an aneurysm mush from the blunt trauma.

A shivering whimper came from her as she was removed with all the gentle in the world. It felt like such a new concept, gentleness and it hadn’t even been that long. She was placed into a makeshift stretcher. The cloth was oddly comforting regardless of how thin it might have been in comparison to the luxury of warm pelts on a cold night. The moment her body was snug in the cloth and she was being carried, the movement lulled her and with a deep exhaling breath of final rest, her eyes closed and she drifted.

Not even the warmth of the water woke her. It only found reason to keep her unconscious.
The gray woman cleaned her, bathed her, tended to Delilah’s wounds all while humming an eerily comforting tune, her voice almost a deep baritone that could rival a man’s.

Delilah didn’t wake for three days. On the third day, when she did wake, it was in a traumatic fervor. Her eyes shot open, she gasped for breath and she thrashed, crying and screaming. The gray woman quickly hushed her, soothed her gently and resumed humming the soft eerily comforting tune until Delilah fell back asleep. She was calm, she breathed evenly and she knowingly slept.

On the fifth day, the bites from the creatures had turned to scars and were not infected. Her bruises had paled, turning brown in their healing and no longer stark black, blue or red. The cuts on her face had completely healed, leaving only the slightest imperfect just above her upper lip, hardly noticeable unless one really looked. The gray woman had done her best. The real challenge was the blunt trauma to the back of Delilah’s head and after the outburst she had two days ago, the gray woman wasn’t sure the former princess would make the recovery. But as she nursed her back to health, her motor functions were not impaired, as noted in the way she moved in her sleep.

On the sixth day, Delilah was awake. The gray woman came back into the room to find her sitting up in bed and she looked a lot healthier, more alive. There was a new life present in her gaze, a new light.
Sitting in front of her, the gray woman touched Delilah’s forehead and then her cheek. She was warm, her skin had its natural flush and rosy tint. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in a few days and while that was true, she didn’t look sickly. She looked...reformed.

“What is your name?”
“Delilah.” Her voice was above a whisper but not very loud. Rather...meek.
“What do you remember?”
“My kingdom taken. My title stripped. My soul…” She paused as she straightened her spine and a small smile formed on her face. “Saved.”

The gray woman nodded. “And your head?”
“Just a small dull ache, but nothing intolerable.”
“Good. He will be pleased.” The gray woman cupped the girl’s chin and turned her face, her gaze casting upon the small knick above her lower lip. “I hope. I did the best I could. You should suffice.”

“Suffice?”
“It is time for you to be dressed.” Standing, the gray woman held her hands out. “Come my dear.”