Thread: To Catch a Thief (Elaebryn × Rania Lark)

If the barbarian woman had a conscience, feminine sympathy, or any other compunction against being an active accessory to rape, then she did not show it. What's perhaps more frightening than the lack of remorse on her face is the lack of ecstasy, rage, or any other passionate emotion that might explain if not excuse it. She had a steely-eyed expression, harsh and set with determination to a task, but beyond that she did not seem to care. The word 'callous' comes to mind as one that fits her apparent demeanour, both fully aware yet fully uncaring of the suffering she would help inflict. And that is exactly what she did for the next hour or so, the barbarian woman provided physical encouragement during sessions of paid rape while calling out like an auctioneer to line up the next customer in from the crowd. Biting or otherwise fighting were met with a strong back-hand to the side of the face refusal to bend as the customer wished was met with a knee to the solar plexus or an elbow to the kidney via the back legs were wrenched open, or held tightly closed as the customer preferred, and for a small additional fee her captor even 'assisted' customers with entry or contorted Anya's body into desired positions through her superior strength and skills of physical persuasion. That hour undoubtedly passes in agony and shame, not only due to the physical act of penetration but also the constant objectification and humiliation. While the dozen or so men who take their turn at her seem to genuinely enjoy the situation in one form or another ranging from simple physical pleasure to exhibitionism and sadism the barbarian woman quietly and resolutely plays her role as pimp and restraint. But the fire never leaves her eyes. Perhaps most damning of all this is that there is the unspoken promise, quietly waiting behind the stalwart face, of something somehow even worse to come once this demonstration is complete. After a while, the coins are all gone and so too is the throng of men and women who came to see the spectacle. The last customer to violate Anya insists that her knees be first drawn up to her breasts, and that her arms and those of the barbarian woman wound tightly about them before he enters her. By now Anya has been fucked raw, and this position serves to maximize the physical pain of the violation. He commits the act with no audience save the barbarian woman holding her, and a pair of guards who happen to notice as they go about their patrol. The younger of the two, a man, seems personally aggrieved by the display, but the older woman whom is his partner shakes her head and signals they should move along without interfering. Whether this is the normal situation for the town, or perhaps the result of the reputation either Anya or the barbarian woman carry, is not immediately disclosed. In either event, the last man seems to particularly relish the experience and savour the pain he inflicts, as he pauses between strokes and plunges hard and slow into Anya's already ravaged cunt for nearly half an hour before eventually finishing inside her. Once the last man is done, the still unnamed woman simply drops Anya to the ground without ceremony or comment. As she falls to the ground, Anya can hear the sound of coins scraping across each other and clattering against each other, in time with the audible but unintelligible sound of her captor counting internally. Whatever enmity or contempt she may harbour for the fiery woman counting her ill-gotten lucre is cut short by the sudden impact of the floor and the ringing in her ears from the many times she was struck in the head. A leather boot almost immediately is pressed against the fallen and battered woman, holding her down with body weight if nothing else and with intentional force if necessary. You are in luck, thief says the woman with evident satisfaction in her tone. Your cunt was worth what you stole, and then some! With that, as though she had merely conducted an ordinary transaction, the woman removes her foot from atop Anya's despoiled form and tucks her coins into her purse. Pleasure doing business with you, she says then pauses. Though, I think for the delay and services rendered you owe me a commission. She visibly reaches behind her back, as though to grasp something at her waist. Perhaps for a weapon?