Memoirs Of Demon Lord 8 The End Is The Beginning Of The End

No, perhaps that is a little too egoistical even for my esteem humble self. However, surely there can no other words to describe my genius esteem self, whose own gorgeous visage and awesome luck are so greatly loved by Lady Fate and the G.o.d of Destiny that I am here on the pedestal of power.

Who knew? Who could possibly have known that I would have a wonderful, unrivaled talent for necromancy? Admittedly, I was rather naive when it comes to certain things. 'tis one of the reasons I was enslaved on the port of Aqusita.

That was not one the many experience that I would prefer to revisit.

There I was, in the bowel of stinking slave ship. Its black woods crusted with barnacles, its holding filled to the brim with slaves whose vomit and excrement slather upon the floor. My captors are certainly no better sight for the eyes, some of them even smelled worse than the sewer. The journey was not a pleasant experience considering the cruelty of the crew upon their 'merchandise,' sometimes at night I dream of killing and torturing my captors for their crimes in the most exquisite painful ways imaginable.

The Merry Gulls' crew was most cruel to the slaves, and when one faced such cruelty, survival instinct takes over and the mind simply adapted to the situation. It was not a pleasant experience, but it was nonetheless a well learned one. I learned of my weakness as a human being, I learned well that even though I am destined for greatness, I must know suffering before I can grasp the power to rule over all.

Sometimes a female slave's just not up to the task of putting on a show for the crew, so instead the crew strap her up against a bulkhead leading to the latrine, and anyone pa.s.sing by can get their rocks off by enjoying a good old fashion facef***ing. After a while, these unfortunate slaves stop resisting and tried to give the cruel b.a.s.t.a.r.ds a show. The men fared no better, stacked in like sardine in a box, and sometimes only some few are allow out as dog on leash and crawling on all four while being led by some of the crew member. They could get castrated, or simply kicked to death.

The evil deeds of the Merry Gulls' crew doesn't stop there either. One slave in particular, Ibeb, was more strong wills than most and refuse to back down. She and five others was able to overcome our captors, killing more than seven of those wretched b.a.s.t.a.r.d until the sheer number of them manage to hold her down. That day, we slaves cheered for the demise of our evil captors, but at the same time we mourned for our comrades. In our stank, dark, cold cells, we watch as those savage mongrel ravage Ibeb. When they were done, she was thrown into a cell all on her own. Ibeb lay in her cell, her plumb, swollen body sprawled across the damp wood floor. After weeks of constant abuse as a unwilling c*m d*mster she was bruised and stretched, every orifice violated by the savage crew. Her p**sy and ****ole were raw and swollen, permanently stretched and gaping. Her breast had grown enormous, pumped full of drugs, huge and round mounds of meat quivering on top of her body with each shuddering, unconscious breath. It was hard to tell if she'd still able to stand or walk with such hugely ma.s.sive b.r.e.a.s.t.s, if she could still stand at all. She had been too weak to do anything but moan and shudder as she was used over and over by the eager crew, nothing but a disposable ***k flesh for their insatiable s.e.xual appet.i.tes.

I'll admit that among the hot, humid condition in the hull of that wretched curse ship, even as slaves suffer we still could not hold back on our own primal desires. I think that if it wasn't for the metal bars of her cell, Ibeb would not only be a.s.saulted by the crew but also by her fellow slaves until she was dead.

The following days fare no better, when Ibeb could still speak in complete sentences she had begged for more, begged to be r***ed. As a form of amusing entertainment, the cruel Captain Fairgray decided to throw Ibeb to the rest of the male slaves, whose stress and primal desires were at their peak. For two, maybe three weeks following by, Ibeb could only moan and scream out simple words, and now it wasn't clear if she could even still speak at all. Her stomach had swollen as well, her belly and intestine packed full of liters of hot, gooey s.e.m.e.n from dozens of breeders. She moaned weakly as she slept, drool leaking from bloated stuffed lips. Her mouth had been used so often that even in her sleep she sucked greedily at imagine c.o.c.ks. She had been used so hard that her mind had completely shattered, disintegrating into a nearly brain-dead state and none of the breeders care enough to see if she was anything more than hot fleshy receptacle to be pumped full of s.e.m.e.n for relieving their l.u.s.t.

Perhaps in a way, that was a blessing, at least she did not entirely suffer in pain.

The Merry Gulls continue on its journey with its crew of fifteen, ten less from the slaves uprising. Its hull filled to the brim with over two hundred slaves in chains and shackles. Along the way, Fairgray decided to 'lighten' his load, thus over forty of us was sent to the water, chains and all.

As the slaves despair over their fate, and I lament over my lack of power, the heaven provide its blessing in a storm.

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Rhylla of Kinderfrk

You have transgressed against your G.o.d and your fellow Man. You have been a willing vessel for the following Transgressions:

Operating a House of ill repute without a License.

Three counts of Unauthorized Political Satire

Six counts of Blasphemy

One count of Inciting Public Unrest

Performing in Public without a License

Eight counts of Publicly promoting Unlawful and Lecherous Practices

Two counts of Blackmailing a Church Official

Two counts of Directing an establishment of Ill Repute

Six counts of Prost.i.tution involving Unholy and Degrading Acts

Enticing Citizens into conduct of a Wanton and Depraved nature

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The grainy taste of the sand in my mouth woke me up and I was greeted by the an ugly mug I have seen once too many time, but nonetheless it was welcoming ugly mug.

The man before me held up and chain that is connected to the shackle on my left wrist. He spoke in a grumpily tone but there were hint of glad in his voice.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.ds dumped near three dozen of us off that ship. You and me, we're all that survived the swim. Never was much difference between slaves and the death sentence.

Once I catch my breath here we'll take a look around. See what this place has on offer. Thought I saw smoke at those ruins up the beach. Could be worth checking if there's-!!!"

Just as my fellow slave begin to talk, his head immediately set ablaze like a match in the darkness. I puked out the sea water as my sense begin to dull and before I blackout, I saw a woman walk toward me and spoke.

"This one'll do."