Thread: The 'Legend' of Zelda (SnowGlassRoses)

The scream was quite possibly the worst thing she could have ever done. Continuing to have pride, continuing to have strength, a backbone, were dangerous things with no power to back them up with, yet to give in to a bully, great or small, to feed his sadistic desires would always prove far worse. Always. The banshee-like shriek was goddamn divine , sating her captor for a flash, for but a moment in time before it was gone - and with its disappearance was the memory of how beautiful it had been, like a flame, like art mistaken for destruction. He would have it again, her body his canvas if need be. A second crack of the smooth leather whip brought about a second straight line of blood along the ex-Princess' pale back, stretching from one butt cheek up along her skin and to her opposite shoulder, crossing over the first lash near the top. My fate, little girl, is as King. You are true in your death not sparing me from it nor would I wish it to. He chuckled. By the gods, this was amazing! Such a rush! He couldn't ask for a stronger woman to visit his wrath upon! To think that many hardened criminals would have given in after only the incarceration. To think that anyone of sanity would have given in after having their genitalia stomped so crudely, so mercilessly. And here was a young woman willing to please the deepest of his sadist urges not only with her once-title and frail, alluring femininity, but a backbone that simply would not fucking give! The third lash came horizontally this time, etching a permanent, bloody scar across the center of Zelda's back, and just above her elbows where her arms were in the way. Was it wrong to be hard right now? Was he fucking sick to be erect? Then sick he would be, Ganondorf thought with a grumbling laugh! The fourth lash was quick after the third, quicker than the others had been, horizontal again but lower. This time Ganondorf struck her across the legs, slightly above the bend of her knees. How long had he been rubbing himself for? A whip only took one hand. The other had shamelessly delved down the front of his pants without the tall Gerudo even thinking about it, choking a pale green dick in his eager palm. He savored her shrill tears. He relished her wails, her high-pitched shrieks, her screams. Like a choir all by herself, listening to her call out for her god or any god that would listen stirred within him a most unholy of delights. Heavy, booted footsteps severed the distance between them in a moment's time. You aren't nearly done, little girl, the Gerudo spoke as he pulled his hand from his pants long enough to grab her shoulder, whipping her around. When she faltered and understandably near collapsed he caught her with that same hand around her throat, clenching down, using it to lift Zelda back to a stand. Or, as close to a stand as one could be expected to maintain throughout such abuse. He held her there for a few seconds until she felt stable on her own on her knees, on her feet, either was fine. Either worked. Ganondorf unhanded her and stepped back, grinning, snickering, taking in the second canvas that was the front of her body. From bosom to bush. From thighs to hips, to abdomen, to shoulders, to face. Most torturers left the front untouched, opting for the larger area of the back when lashing. Most lacked a goddamn imagination. A fifth lash. Her left cheek to her collarbone. Her collarbone over past her left breast, over past the left side of her abdomen, down past her pelvis and halfway down her thigh. Gyahaha!! A sixth. The top of her belly, horizontally across.