Hope and Fear 1
Corinne almost screamed when the hand touched her ankle, in the five days that she had spent hiding she had managed to avoid the patrols and searches of the Witch-Queens troops but now it seemed she had finally been caught.
When the Witch-Queens army had entered the city Corinne and her mother and sister had been amongst those left behind; Corinne was twenty-one, her sister Celia was twenty and her mother Claudia was thirty-nine. At first the city had been quiet but then the noises had begun, the crashes and splintering of wood and the screams; Corinne’s mother had tried to reassure her that it was alright, that they were safe. Corinne had been in the cellar, cutting a piece of cheese when it had happened; the noise of the house door being broken open and the sound of women’s voices. Corinne had rushed up the stairs from the cellar, but some instinct had stopped her just before she dashed into the kitchen, instead she had put her eye to a crack in the wood that had been there for years. Corinne knew she would never forget what she had seen in the kitchen.
Corinne’s sister and mother had been stood in the middle of the kitchen surrounded by six women dressed in black leather armour and black surplices. One of them, tall with broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms, legs and body, held a sheaf of papers in her gauntlet covered hand. There was a hard, uncompromising look on her severe and rather masculine face with its thin lips and slightly hooked nose, while her short, crew cut hair was iron grey.
“You are Claudia Johansson,” said the woman, “Which of your daughters is this?” she demanded pointing at Celia.
“This is Celia,” said Corinne’s mother, the woman in black made a tick on the sheaf of papers.
“You have another daughter, her name is Corinne, where is she?” demanded the woman.
“Corinne isn’t here, she went to visit a friend and hasn’t come back,” said Claudia, for a moment the woman in the black leather armour looked intently at Corinne’s mother and then her sister.
From where she knelt peering through the crack it appeared to Corinne that the female officer was almost appraising her mother and sister. Corinne, her mother and sister were very similar in looks, finely featured faces with pale almost alabaster skin, black haired and green eyed all three were tall with slim, willowy figures and firm but not large breasts.
“Very well, she’ll probably be picked up by one of the other sweeps,” said the female officer.
“You three will join the others and continue the collections along this street,” said the woman who was obviously in command, “If you require me I will be here.”
Three of the armoured women slapped their right fists to their chests in salute, “As you command Deaconess-General,” they said before leaving.
The Deaconess-General continued to look at Corinne’s mother and sister, removing her studded leather gauntlets she held out her hand, “Flasks,” she ordered imperiously.
Without comment the two female soldiers had each passed small flasks to the Deaconess-General, “I am Deaconess-General Andrea Van Stantvoordt, Commander of the Order of the Black Sisters, Deaconess of the Sisters of Torment,” the Deaconess-General held out the two leather flasks, “This may mean nothing to you but soon it will mean everything, now drink,” she ordered.
For a moment Celia and Claudia had looked at each other, fear was etched on Celia’s face as she looked at her mother, “We’d better do as we’ve been told, best not to cause trouble,” said Claudia quietly.
Nervously and with obvious reluctance both the women raised the flasks to their lips and began to drink the contents. As the thick black fluid filled the two women’s mouths and began to flow down their throats they began to cough and splutter.
The Deaconess-General rested her hand meaningfully on the hilt of her sword, “Drink all of it,” she said.
Corinne had continued to watch as her sister and mother spluttered and coughed as they drank the contents of the leather flasks, General Van Stantvoordt took the flasks from her mother and sister and passed them back to her guards, the Deaconess-General turned her attention back to Corinne’s mother and sister.
For several moments nothing seemed to change as the Deaconess-General continued to silently look at Claudia and her daughter then Corinne realised something was wrong, her mother and sister suddenly seemed to relax utterly. Andrea Van Stantvoordt reached out and ran her fingers down Claudia’s cheek, there was no reaction to the intimate touch.
“Good,” she said. “I hadn’t found anything to suit my tastes but these two are exactly what I’ve been looking for, it’s just a shame the other daughter isn’t here they would have made an excellent trio. Never mind, I’ll keep this pair, they’ll make ideal pain-sluts,” said the Deaconess-General, “Strip them.”
At first Corinne hadn’t understood what the Deaconess-General was talking about but then she’d watched in stunned disbelief as the two soldiers stripped her mother and sister’s clothes from their bodies, only stopping when both were completely naked.
There was no reaction from either woman as the Deaconess-General ran her hands over Claudia and Celia’s bodies, fondling, caressing and squeezing their breasts, buttocks, thighs and pubes then she held out her hand again. Corinne watched as the Deaconess-General was passed two pieces of soft black leather.
Unable to intervene else she was also captured, Corinne could only watch helplessly as first her mother then her sister had black leather hoods pulled over their heads and faces before being laced tightly closed. Hoods that encased the two women from the neck up in black, skin-tight leather and left only their eyes free of the leather confinement while their long black hair was pulled through a hole at the back of the hoods.
Collars came next, three-inch wide black leather collars with one-inch spikes jutting outwards were buckled snugly around Claudia and Celia’s necks covering the lower edge of the leather hood. Neither Corinne’s mother or sister had reacted in the slightest as they were hooded and collared. This immobility continued as a disbelieving Corinne watched the Deaconess-General take a long black dildo covered in purple and green veins from one of the soldiers and without hesitating pushed the dildo into her mother’s vagina.
Corinne wanted to scream as she watched the Deaconess-General ravish her mother with the dildo as at the same time she chanted in a language Corinne couldn’t understand; in the eyeholes of the leather hood Claudia’s eyes rolled up until only the whites showed. Corinne was revolted and terrified by what she was watching but she couldn’t look away. Corinne’s mother began to twitch and shudder violently as the ravishing continued then her body went rigid. The Deaconess-general stopped her chanting and pulled the dildo from Claudia’s dripping wet vagina, Claudia’s eyes rolled down, returning to normal as she looked at the Deaconess-General.
Corinne didn’t understand what had happened as for a moment Andrea Van Stantvoordt stared at her mother then she passed the black dildo back to the female soldier and took a second one. Corinne could do nothing but watch as the dildo was pushed into her sister’s vagina and the process was repeated until Celia shuddered and twitched as orgasm after orgasm swept through her body.
Finally the dildo was pulled from Celia’s dripping wet vagina and Andrea Van Stantvoordt stepped back to look at the leather hooded figures in front of her, “Go and find me some suitable footwear I don’t want them hurting their feet on the way to my tent, I will have that pleasure,” she ordered and one of the female soldiers quickly left. The Deaconess-General held out her hand once more and the remaining soldier passed her two long leather leashes, Andrea Van Stantvoordt clipped the leashes to rings on the front of the spiked leather collars.
The soldier who had disappeared returned, “Put those on,” said the Deaconess-General.
without hesitation Claudia and Celia took what the soldier held and put them on. Corinne looked in amazement, in addition to the leather hoods and collars, her mother and sister now wore laced ankle boots with spiked stiletto heels that Corinne guessed must be at least six inches in height.
“Excellent,” said Andrea Van Stantvoordt as she looked at Corinne’s mother and sister, “I will take these slaves back to my tent to complete their processing and give them their first whipping and fucking, continue the conversion of the rest of the women in this street as ordered,” commanded the Deaconess-General.
With a tug on their leashes she led the slaves that had been Corinne’s mother and sister from the room. Corinne almost feinted as realisation sank in that what she had just witnessed was the enslavement of her mother and sister and that had she not been in the cellar, and had her mother not instinctively lied, she too would now be a slave.
For five days she had managed to avoid the patrols and search parties that moved through the city. Corinne now knew there was a difference in the women who were enslaved; the vast majority of women in the city had been transformed into what Corinne thought of as general-purpose slaves.
These slaves were dressed in knee-length brown leather smocks belted at the waist with low heeled shoes and unadorned brown leather collars locked around their necks. The women were enslaved in groups by green robed sorceress-witches who used black magic to carry out the enslavement but didn’t rape the women as Corinne’s mother and sister had been raped.
Less common were the other slaves, women dressed from head to toe in various styles of skin-tight leather suits, their feet shod in ridiculously high heeled boots or shoes. They were nearly always gloved and sometimes corseted with either tightly fitting leather masks or hoods over their faces and heads and always led on leashes by the women who obviously now owned them.
This other type of slave, the majority of which were dressed in red leather but occasionally in black, Corinne now knew from conversations she had overheard were sex-slaves. Women chosen for their beauty and then transformed into leather clad pets and toys with no other function than to give their Mistresses sexual pleasure.
On two occasions Corinne had been close by as women she didn’t know were captured by patrols The first time the three women who were captured had been stripped and dressed in brown leather smocks and brown leather collars as they were turned into general purpose slaves but the second time the fate of the two young women, a blond and a brunette, had been different.
Dragged screaming and struggling from their hiding place the two had been forced to drink the same potion as Corinne’s mother and sister had unwittingly drunk, the two women had quickly become unnaturally calm and relaxed. They had not resisted as they were stripped of their clothing before being dressed in highly constricting leather suits, thigh length boots, elbow length gloves and leather collars. Leather masks that left only their eyes and mouths uncovered were placed over their faces and buckled tightly at the back of their heads. Everything they wore was coloured red.
As Corinne had watched the two young women had been pushed back against the wall of the building they had been hiding in as two of the soldiers who had caught them fastened harnesses around their waists each with a black dildo attached. Without waiting the two soldiers had stepped up to the leather covered women and slid the dildos into the women’s exposed vaginas.
Corinne had watched as the two women were ravished and transformed, minutes later it was over and the pair were now sex-slaves. Leashes were clipped to the new slave’s collars and with juices running down the inside of their leather covered thighs, the pair were led to a wagon with a large cage on the back.
Inside the cage, lying on the padded floor, were four slaves, three dressed in red leather and one in black, from the hiding place where she watched Corinne guessed that these four had also recently been enslaved in the same way as the pair she had just seen. The two new slaves were guided into the cage and the door was locked behind them, for a moment the two new slaves looked around, then slowly and sensuously they lowered themselves to the floor of the cage beside the other slaves.
Two of the red leather covered slaves spread their thighs exposing their pubes, without being asked the two new slaves lowered their mouths to the offered, glistening wet vaginas and began to lick and suck. Within moments all six of the new, leather covered sex-slaves were avidly and passionately fucking each other. Watching the wagon with the caged slaves being driven away Corinne had begun to cry, she now knew for certain that her mother and sister were sex-slaves just like the six in the cage.
The soldiers resumed their search and Corinne, realising her position was detectable and therefore untenable, moved from the house she was hiding in. In the last five days Corinne had learned to move quickly and quietly. She’d thought the attic she was now in was safe, as far as she could tell the house had been searched already, its occupants taken and enslaved, she thought she was alone until she felt the touch on her ankle; Corinne froze.
“Don’t panic, I’m not one of the Witch-Queens soldiers, I’m from Grent,” said a female voice as a figure stood up and moved into the light that came through the attic window. The woman was a little shorter than Corinne with blond hair that framed a very attractive face but what surprised Corinne was that she wore man’s clothing; trousers, boots and a shirt hid what Corinne thought was a rather good figure.
“My name is Averill Bettencourt, who are you?” she asked with a reassuring smile on her face.
For a moment Corinne hesitated but then she decided that if this were one of the Witch-Queens minions she would already have been dragged from the attic to be enslaved.
“I’m Corinne Johansson,” she finally replied.
Averill Bettencourt held out her hand, “A pleasure to meet you Corinne,” she said, with a feeling of relief Corinne reached up and shook hands.
Averill lowered herself to the attic floor next to Corinne, “Was this your house, is that why you’re hiding here?” she asked.
“No,” said Corinne, “I’ve only been here a couple of hours, I come from the Jeston District of the city.”
“I know Jeston, it was one of the first areas the bitch they call the Witch-Queen took over when her army entered the city, how did you manage to escape being captured?” asked Averill.
Corinne explained how she had been in the cellar, that she had managed to hide until the soldiers had finished their search and how she had hid since then, tears ran down her face as she described what she had witnessed when her mother and sister were taken and enslaved.
There was a look of genuine regret on Averill’s face as she listened to Corinne’s story, “I’m so sorry about your mother and sister,” she said.
Corinne wiped the tears from her cheeks, “I keep hoping I’ll see them again so I can help them get away from that awful woman,” she said.
There was a pause as a sad expression crossed Averill’s face, “I’m sorry Corinne but there’s something I need to tell you, if you tried to rescue your mother and sister you would put yourself in extreme danger.”
“What do you mean?”
Averill paused again, “I suppose you have the right to know,” she said looking at Corinne.
“From what you described, the way your mother and sister were enslaved and the leather items they were dressed in, they were enslaved as sex-slaves. There is no easy way to tell you this but part of the process of transforming a woman into an Elstrandian sex-slave is that her personality and memories are completely erased,” said a genuinely regretful Averill.
“Every thought, idea, memory and emotion that made them individuals is wiped away and replaced with a sex-slaves personality. If you were to meet your mother and sister they would have no idea who you were just as they have no idea who they once were,” said Averill, “To all intents and purposes your mother and sister may as well be dead.”
There was a look of horror on Corinne’s face as Averill paused before continuing.
“What you would meet would be sex-slaves, totally in love with, devoted too and obedient too their owner, their Mistress,” the look of horror on Corinne’s face deepened as she listened to Averill, “They would simply consider you an unprocessed, un-owned slave. They would probably feel sorry for you because you don’t have a mistress who owns you. To them there are only two types of women owners and slaves and being their owners sex-slave is the only thing in the world they want to be. Not only wouldn’t they want to escape from their slavery they would do everything they could to make sure you also became a slave. I’m so sorry Corinne.”
Corinne was crying uncontrollably as Averill finished talking, “Oh no, please no,” she sobbed.
Averill waited patiently as Corinne continued to cry, slowly the sobbing subsided, “How… how do you know so much?” asked Corinne as she dried her face with her stained dress.
Again Averill paused, “I work for the Council of Grent, or what’s left of them in Hillmartin, I’ve been gathering information for the Council and tomorrow night I’m going escape from the city and report back.”
“You’re a spy,” said Corinne in amazement.
Averill shrugged, “I suppose that’s one way of putting it, before the invasion I was a scout with the army but when it became obvious the city was about to fall, I was transferred to the intelligence department. I was trained to avoid capture and detection, but you’ve managed it on your own, I’m impressed,” she said with a grin.
“Just lucky I suppose,” said Corinne, her tears finally dried.
“You should come with me, there’s nothing left for you here and a report of the things you’ve seen would be very useful.”
Corinne looked at Averill then she slowly nodded, “Alright, I’ll come with you, if what you say is true, I have no reason to stay.”
“I’m afraid everything I’ve said is true, I’m sorry.”
For a moment Corinne almost started to cry again, “So what do you propose we do now.”
“I suggest we spend the day resting here, then tonight leave for another place closer to the North Gate and the Sinter Road.”
“I have some food,” said Corinne opening a satchel beside her, “Just basic stuff, fruit, cheese, bread, would you like some.”
“As I said, I’m impressed,” said Averill as she picked up an apple.
The day passed, Corinne and Averill taking turns watching the square outside the house from the small attic window. Patrols of the Witch-Queens troops passed but none made any attempt to enter and once two soldiers in black studded leather armour passed leading three female captives. The captives were not yet slaves, still dressed in their normal clothes, dust stained expensive dresses and shoes, the three women were gagged with wide black leather strips across their mouth’s and their hands were bound behind their backs with linked leather cuffs. The two soldiers were leading the three women at a rapid pace by chain leashes attached to tightly buckled collars around the women’s necks; all three women were similar in appearance and very attractive.
“Sisters or cousins by the look of them,” whispered Averill as the three women were led across the square, “Someone obviously wants three sex-slaves that look similar,” she said with an angry tone in her voice.
For a moment Corinne was silent as she watched the three soon to be enslaved women being led past the house they were hiding in, “Those soldiers, the ones in black armour, who are they?” she asked as the soldiers and their captives disappeared from view.
“How much do you of the Witch-Queen and her realm, High Elstrand?” asked Averill.
“To be honest, not much,” said Corinne, “I know I should, considering we’ve been at war with them for so many years, but I suppose I just didn’t bother to learn, I never thought it would come to this.”
“You’re not the only one,” said Averill with genuine anger, “Very well, let me explain a few things. The women of High Elstrand worship a female deity, a goddess they call Siv, she is also known as The Dark Lady or sometimes The Shadow Lady, and less commonly the Player of Games.”
Averill glanced out of the attic window of the house they were in, “Up to the beginning of the war no-one in Grent knew much at all about Siv and her worshippers. Now we know that there is a female priesthood known as the Sisters of Torment led by Candida Renville, Arch-Abbess of Keln. She is an enormously fat, perverted and disgusting woman, you may well have seen some of these female priests, they dress in black robes,” said Averill.
“Yes,” said Corinne, “I’ve seen them, they scare me.”
Averill nodded, “Good, they should, but they are not the only part of this church, there is an armed part, an order militant, the Order of the Black Sisters. The woman you saw, the one who… who enslaved your mother and sister, Andrea Van Stantvoordt, is the commander of these warrior clerics. Their devotion to their goddess is extreme and in battle they devote their kills to Siv, but what is worse is that the worship of this… this goddess is based on sex, pain and suffering. They believe that by inflicting pain, by physically abusing others, especially their sex-slaves, they honour their deity.”
Averill looked at Corinne, “This will be difficult for you to hear Corinne, but women taken and enslaved by the priestesses and warrior-clerics of Siv are not just sex-slaves, their minds are warped and conditioned so that they become pain-sluts.”
“I don’t understand, I’ve never heard the expression pain-sluts, what does it mean?”
Averill paused and looked unhappily at Corinne, “A pain-slut is a woman that… that is sexually excited by pain. In extreme circumstances, such as the slaves owned by these priestesses and clerics, they will actually orgasm from being physically hurt, pain sexually stimulates them that much,” said Averill quietly.
“You mean… you mean my mother and sister are now two of these… these pain sluts, that they receive pleasure from being hurt?” she asked aghast.
“Please remember Corinne, they may have the appearance of being your mother and sister but they’re not, remember what I told you.I I know that isn’t a lot of comfort but it’s all I can offer.”
Silently, Corinne turned her face to the floor, then she looked back at Averill, there was an angry expression on her face, “Let’s get out of this fucking city as soon as we can,” she said.
“Tonight,” said Averill, “we’ll leave tonight.”
Darkness had fallen and Corinne had packed the meagre items and the food she had scavenged during her five days of hiding. Averill looked out of the small attic window at the square outside the house, it looked and sounded deserted, satisfied she went to the hatch that led down into the body of the house and laid her head against it.
Averill listened intently for several seconds then she looked at Corinne, “It sounds clear,” she said.
“Alright, let’s go,” said Corinne.
Averill listened again then she released the catch that held the attic hatch closed and let it swing silently down. For a moment both women listened intently, straining to catch the slightest of sounds but there was only silence from the house below. Corinne held her breath as Averill slowly slid the ladder to the loft into place, a gentle thud indicating that it had reached the floor below. Again, both women paused, nervously listening for any indication that there was anyone in the house, once more silence greeted them.
Climbing down the ladder and into the hallway terrified Corinne but with her body visibly shaking she followed Averill. The two women had already decided that leaving the house by the back door wouldn’t work; it led into a large, secluded garden with high walls that separated it from similar gardens. Only the front door gave them a chance for their plan to succeed so it was in that direction that they headed.
With corridors lit only by light from outside and with the fear of detection always in their minds their progress was slow and careful until finally they reached the door of the house.
Averill paused and turned to look at Corinne, “Ready?” she asked.
Corinne could only nod in return. Averill put an ear to the door and for several moments she listened. As satisfied as she could be Averill reached for the door handle and gently turned it. Corinne held her breath as Averill stepped outside and time went by, then Averill peered around the door.
“Come on,” she whispered; still shaking with nerves Corinne pulled the dark cloak she wore around her body and followed Averill.
Outside, the square was lit by moonlight from two of the three moons; keeping to the shadows Corinne followed Averill as she turned left and headed for an alley.Without warning Averill gave a yelp of surprised pain and stopped.
“Averill what…” began Corinne then she saw the feathered dart sticking from the right side of Averill’s neck.
Corinne’s eyes widened in shock then she suddenly felt a stinging pain in the right side of her own neck. Corinne tried to raise her hand to pull what she knew was an identical dart to the one that had hit Averill from her neck, but she couldn’t, none of Corinne’s muscles would work.
Terror flooded through Corinne as her mind tried to make her body react and failed, Corinne couldn’t move an inch. The dart was pulled from her neck and then unseen hands took hold of Corinne’s arms and pulled them behind her back. Corinne could do nothing as she felt her wrists being bound together, nor could she prevent the ball-gag being forced into her mouth before being buckled at the back of her head and the blindfold that followed nor could she prevent the leather bag being pulled over her head and the drawstring pulled tight around her neck.
Corinne wanted to scream and scream and scream as she was picked up and put over someone’s shoulder, as she was being carried Corinne wanted to shriek and struggle, but she couldn’t, nothing would work. Corinne was certain she had been captured by troops of the Witch-Queen and that she would soon be a slave, her only hope was that it was by one of the Witch-Queens soldiers not one of the clerics. As she was carried along the same thought kept running through her terrified mind.
“They’re going to enslave me, they’re going to enslave me,” the days of hiding and planning an escape had finally come to nothing. Then Corinne remembered it wasn’t just her, Averill had been taken as well and would suffer the same fate, she too would be turned into a slave.
Corinne had no idea how long she was carried, the horror she felt at what was going to happen to her overwhelmed everything else. Time meant nothing, memories of watching her mother and sister being dressed in leather, ravished and enslaved flashed through her mind. Then suddenly she was falling, slipping from the shoulder over which she was being carried, her feet hit the street and her knees buckled as she slowly collapsed to the ground.