I could handle a bit of rough love and degradation, but this was too much, even for a masochist like me. For once, I didn't get wet. I was truly scared.
As my eyes scanned over the prospective victims. The man I decided to call Satan's Butler left me, and went to get another victim from the cells below. He soon came back with another elf. This one, I recognized.
"Chloe!" I gasped. Oh no, not Chloe too!
Chloe made eye contact with me, and shook her head no. Indicating that she couldn't talk. Unlike me, she could apparently follow orders properly. I had a number of nasty bruises spreading on my tummy, but I didn't see a single mark on her body. She was chained against a pillar across the hall from me.
Without any prompting from the boss, the thug from earlier came up to me.
"Okay, okay, no talking, sorry!" I muttered.
"Uuugh!" The thug's fist smashed into my stomach again. I slouched over and groaned in pain. Oh, my poor tummy! Why did he always have to hit the same damn spot!
After Chloe, another slave was brought up. A ginger haired catgirl. She looked utterly terrified. Naked, shivering against the cold stone, staring wide eyed at all the torture equipment. When she noticed the dark elf hanging on the wall, she whimpered audibly, her shivering doubled in intensity, and a little trickle of pee dripped down her leg. She turned out to be the last one brought up from the cells below.
Were we ordered from oldest to newest? I compared the fresh jittery catgirl next to me, with a girl on the exact opposite side of the hall. She was a caramel skinned low elf. Physically, she was in perfect shape, cleanly healed with no signs of torture scarring her body. Mentally? She looked near catatonic. Her glazed over eyes were staring unfocused into the distance. Unlike the catgirl who squirmed uncomfortably in her shackles, the elf was relaxed and limp in her shackles, hanging from her wrists, completely motionless.
How long had she been here? How long did it take to break someone that completely? What about the hanging elf?
An elderly man in a white robe walked up to me. He wasn't decrepit with age, merely old, looking to be somewhere in his early sixties, still nice and spry. He glanced down at my bruises with a disapproving frown, then looked me in the eye and smiled warmly. A nice kind smile… Maybe this one wasn't so bad…
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He reached out and grabbed my exposed breast. A good solid grope… an utterly shameless violation. I gave him the stink eye, but he didn't acknowledge my glare at all, merely enjoying my breast at his leisure. He squeezed it, bounced it, teased the nipple until it was hard, and then gently pinched it a few times. He wasn't looking me in the eye anymore. I was just an object, merely an amusing toy he'd decided to play with.
That alone wouldn't have been too bad, but the humiliating part was how my body was responding to his touch. It felt good. Being molested by a disgusting old geezer shouldn't have felt good, but it did. My body juiced up. I bit my lip and stifled the urge to moan.
Mercifully, the groping stopped before I could embarrass myself further. There was a glimmer of holy light I recognized as Purify. The day's sweat vanished from my body, as did the filth of the dungeon cell, and the contents of my bladder and bowels. Within a few seconds I was clean enough to eat off of. He gave my breast another parting squeeze, and let me go, patting me gently on my head and moving onto the ginger catgirl slave without a word.
He stuck a finger between her thighs and gently stroked her pussy. She whimpered at the violation, but didn't dare say anything to him. He gathered a finger full of urine from her inner thigh, and licked it off his fingertip.
That was… a little bit eww…
Soon enough, I saw the flash of Purify and she was cleaned too. Next up was Chloe, who smiled submissively and allowed him to touch her breasts without a hint of shame or resistance. She even spread her thighs helpfully when he reached between her legs to poke a finger inside her.
None of these rapey assholes had introduced themselves, and I didn't think they were going to. I decided to name this one Grandpa Bad Touch.
Grandpa Bad Touch continued down the hall, cleaning each slave one at a time, and enjoying their bodies with his hands. He even touched the men, firmly holding their delicate balls in his hand and gently massaging them as he cleaned their bodies with magic. He made sure not to leave until the boys were involuntarily hard, and thoroughly humiliated. Truly, Grandpa Bad Touch was a cosmopolitan pervert of many varied tastes.
Still, while he might have been a little creepy, his touch was always gentle, and he never hurt anyone. His biggest crime was inflicting humiliation and involuntary arousal on the captive slaves, I grudgingly had to respect that. That made him my favorite rapist of the bunch… the one least likely to crucify me and flay the skin off my legs.
Eventually, the white robed healer left us. The dark haired man, Satan's Butler, returned and gave us all a final inspection.
"Please… I'll be good… don't torture me… I can suck… I'll bend over…" the jittery catgirl whimpered.
"Urrrrgh!" She too, received a heavy punch to the gut for speaking out of turn. As awful as it was… part of me was a little bit glad I wasn't the only one to make that mistake.
We silently hung around for another hour, mostly ignored by various tuxedo glad gentlemen as they wiped down the torture equipment and tools and did whatever other busywork the brothel had to do before they opened their doors. They also made a game of tugging the rope holding up the tortured elf's cross and letting it drop, inflicting mind-shredding torment on the crucified dark elf, competing over who could get her to scream the loudest.
And then, the door to the dungeon opened and we got our first customers.