“Do you know why you are here, Phaere?” Ardulace said from her throne. She idly tapped a ebon rod carved with words of power and pain against the glossy black metal of her throne.

“Yes, Matron Mother,” Phaere said. “I have been accused of being too familiar with my lessers.”
 
 
 

Phaere stared straight ahead as the manacles were fastened on her wrists, holding her upright in the rectangular bone frame. The male locking her into the manacles leaned closed to her back and licked her neck, jerking away before she could snap her head back into his.

Despite the angry snarl on her lips, Phaere was desperately afraid. If a lowly male servant, a disposable one just as likely to be fed to the spiders as fed at all, felt he could take some advantage of her then her situation was far more grave than she had imagined.

“Dear Phaere, how wonderful it was that you could get yourself punished,” Daerdre said as she walked around the manacled drow woman, the heels of her high leather boots clicking on the marble. Her hand trailed over Phaere’s shoulder, then down her neck to finally caress Phaere’s bare breasts. “I knew you were a soft one,” Daerdre said as she took one of Phaere’s nipples between her fingers and softly pinched it. She smiled at Phaere and pinched hard, grinning as Phaere ground her teeth to stifle her scream.
“Good, good, it would be no fun if you were as weak as a surfacer, would it?”

Phaere watched as Daerdre stepped back and uncoiled the tentacle rod hanging from her belt. The drow torturer snapped the rod, the nine writhing tentacles inscribing fine cracks in the marble floor. “We could kill you in a moment with one of these,” Daerdre said with a smile as she gathered the inch thick tentacles in her hand and rubbed them against her cheek. “But what fun would that be?”

“Spare me your melodramatic posing, Daerdre,” Phaere said with a sneer on her dark purple lips. “It may scare the slaves, but it does nothing to scare any true drow.” She hissed through her teeth as Daerdre whipped the tentacles over her naked body, lines of pain scorching through her. “I’ve had worse lust bites, bitch.”

“Smile while you can, Phaere,” Daerdre said. “You won’t be laughing after I send you to the pits. The umber hulks would teach you some manners.”

Phaere stared silently at Daerdre, a smirk still on her lips. The umber hulks were useless as rapists. They lived to eat, tunnel, eat, and tunnel some more. Their mating rituals involved a female dropping a clutch of eggs, a male fertilizing them, and a six month gestation period which the eggs would be lucky to get through without being stepped on.
That Daerdre had threatened her with them showed how incompetent the drow woman was.

“Scared you silent, have I?” Daerdre said with a wide smile as she walked closer to Phaere, her hips swiveling in a sluttish fashion suited for a lust slave, not a priestess.

“Your stench has,” Phaere said. She grunted as Daerdre whipped the tentacle rod over her again, pain stinging her breasts, belly, and thighs.

“I’ve had enough of your insolence, bitch!” Daerdre screamed as she drew back her arm to lash Phaere again. “You will be punished!” Phaere jerked in her chains as the tentacles continued to lash her. Her back arched as she writhed in her chains, her breasts bouncing with each strike of the rod.

As suddenly as it had started, the whipping stopped, leaving her hanging in her manacles, her breasts heaving as she panted for breath. As she managed to lift her head, her white hair matted to her forehead and back with sweat, she saw Daerdre with one hand under her tight spider silk skirt, furiously masturbating. The drow torturer saw Phaere watching her and smiled as she pulled her hand free and licked the shining juices from her fingers.

Phaere watched, still panting for breath, as Daerdre twisted the bottom of the tentacle rod and stroked the tentacles as they began to writhe on their own, each one seeming to be searching for something.

“Do you know what this...special tentacle rod does, Phaere?” Daerdre said, her voice rising so that the audience in the balconies above could hear.

“Of course, only a child or an idiot wouldn’t know,” Phaere said. “Which makes me skeptical that you know.”

“Your insolence does nothing to lessen your punishment,” Daerdre said with a snarl. “See if you can be so defiant now,” she said as she threw the tentacle rod at Phaere’s feet and stalked back to her chair. Phaere spat at Daerdre’s back and tugged at the adamantine chains keeping her ankles spread apart on the frame. She watched as the tentacles groped blindly, wrapping around the bone of the frame for a moment before releasing it and continuing to search. They finally found her feet and surged forward, dragging
the handle behind them as they twined their way up her slim legs.

She couldn’t help but feel horror at the sight of the tentacles moving their way up her legs. She could feel them, deceptively soft and warm, with a hint of firmness deep within the writhing tentacles. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep herself from struggling against the manacles, pulling and yanking as she jerked her body to and fro, trying to shake the tentacles off as they steadily climbed up her legs.

“That’s very good, Phaere,” Daerdre said as she reclined her black bone chair. She let her spidersilk robe fall from her shoulders to drape over the back of the chair, leaving her ebony breasts bared. She smirked at Phaere as she cupped her breasts and let her thumbs gently rub against her nipples, smiling as they hardened and stiffened. “Please do scream.”

Phaere closed her eyes and jerked her body against the chains once more as the tentacles crawled over her thighs, squeezing eagerly as they grew ever closer to her exposed quim. She gasped as the first one brushed against her clit and then nudged against her quim before slowly insinuating itself into her. As that tentacle continued to squirm its way into her, more climbed up her body to circle around her breasts, squeezing a bit too hard for comfort, but not too hard for pleasure.

Phaere ground her teeth together, a scream still emerging from her mouth, as the first tentacle pushed itself even deeper into her quim. She grabbed the chains binding her wrists and braced herself for the tentacles next thrust, again managing to keep from screaming out loud as she was penetrated.

The drow woman, sweat dripping down her body, making her ebon skin shin in the glow of the magelights, shuddered and jerked against the chains as the tentacle continued to slide into her. She could hear Daerdre’s laughing and moans of pleasure as the drow torturer watched her victim be ravished by the tentacle rod.

Phaere finally cried out as the tentacle swelled inside her and thrust even deeper. She wondered how deep it would go, would it kill her? Split her in two? No, it wouldn’t, that would be too easy of a punishment. They would want it to continue like this, humiliating her and torturing her for as long as possible. With each thrust of the tentacle she jerked in her chains until her body was moving in a steady rhythm, the adamantine chains jingling merrily in time, her soft moans and groans providing counterpoint.

Phaere looked down and stared for a moment at the tentacles encircling her breasts, then down further to the thick tentacle pulsing inside her as it withdrew and thrust back into her quim. She whimpered for the first time at the feel of it surging in and out of her in a tireless rhythm. Another whimper escaped her mouth as she felt yet another tentacle creeping up between her bottom, rubbing against the firm cheeks of her bottom before sliding back between and pressing against her anus.

“Maybe you’ll enjoy this,” Daerdre laughed from her seat. The drow woman was completely naked now, her skirt crumpled on the floor as she fingered herself, her long, slender fingers driving deep into her quim while her other hand caressed her breasts. “I would love to visit you in the whore quarters. I suppose even the slaves would need someone to fuck.”

“Lloth suck your innards from your screaming body,” Phaere managed to hiss as she felt the tentacle pressing against her anus. She tightened against it, knowing that would do nothing to stop it. She closed her eyes and clenched her mouth shut, determined not to give Daerdre the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.

But try as she might, she still screamed as the tentacle forced its way home as the first tentacle rammed itself into her quim and the other tentacles squeezed her breasts in their grip. Her body strained against the chains as she rose on her tiptoes in a futile effort to escape the tentacles thrusting into her. But even as she gripped the chains holding her wrists, she knew that she couldn’t escape them, and indeed, was making it worse for herself. Gravity would soon force her to sink back onto the soles of her feet, helping the tentacles penetrate her even more.

Laughter from the balconies and from Daerdre made her face heat with humiliation. This was what they wanted, not pain, not a broken body, but a broken mind. Phaere sobbed and felt the first tears trickling down her cheeks as she stared up at the ceiling high above. Groans and sobs intermingled as the tentacles began to pump into her body before pulling nearly out and starting the ordeal again. Her entire body shuddered with each greedy thrust plundering her body until she felt her muscles would dissolve.

With a scream part rage and part humiliation, Phaere collapsed, her wrists hanging limply in their manacles while the tentacles were driven up into her her. Her eyes went wide at the sensation, staring ahead blindly while she writhed in her chains, her hair tossing as she cried out. Phaere clenched her thighs together, trying blindly to stop the violation of her body, but only succeeding in making the sensations that much more acute.

Through her tears she could see Daerdre’s body arching off her chair in climax. The torturer’s hands flew over her clit and in and out of her quim while she screamed out her pleasure. Phaere could see the drow woman collapsing back onto her chair, her hands lazily stroking her bare stomach and breasts as she grinned at Phaere.

Phaere gasped in true horror for the first time as she looked down at the tentacles and saw them swelling. She had heard tales of tentacle rods so attuned to their masters that
they could be controlled with a thought, but this level was-

Her thoughts were blown away by the sudden explosion of heat within her body as the tentacles swelled and then discharged their seed into her. Phaere screamed in horror as she felt the seed surging within her most private places, places she had never before allowed a male to dirty with his seed. But now, now a monstrous magical construct was dirtying her like never before. She turned her head away from the disgusting sight of the tentacles coiled around her breasts spurting their sickeningly white seed onto her pure onyx skin. The white liquid dripped and splattered onto her skin, flowing downward to coat her taut belly. She moaned and jerked futilely at her chains as more seed dripped from her body, coating the inside of her thighs and puddling on the floor beneath her.

Phaere sobbed quietly, vowing revenge against the smug torturer stretching and yawning across the room. She’d take control and destroy everyone who had witnessed her humiliation, from the Matron Mother to the lowliest pleasure slave. A final cry of humiliation fled from her lips as the tentacles withdrew from her, leaving her feeling strangely empty, and slithered back to their master.

“Is the punishment fulfilled, Matron Mother?” Daerdre called out as she knelt naked on the floor, the tentacle rod in one hand.

“No,” Matron Mother Ardulace called down as she leaned over the railing of the balcony, two pleasure slaves clinging her her sides. “She has not been reminded enough of the uselessness of foolish sentiment. Have her bound to the Pedestal of Torments for the next day, I think the dwellers in the pits deserve a reward for their service.”