Kinky Temptation

Lyssandra walked to one of these cages and reached out, not to unlock it, but to push the simple latch aside.

The door creaked open.

Instantly, the women inside huddled together in a terrified mass, trying to press themselves into the farthest corner from the stranger. They whimpered, their eyes wide with fear.

”Don’t worry,” Lyssandra said. Her voice was soft, almost gentle, a stark contrast to her menacing appearance. ”I won’t hurt you.”

Her words seemed to have an effect as the initial panic subsided slightly. The women exchanged uncertain glances.

’A woman,’ the thought flickered through several minds. ’Not like the others.’ A fragile hope began to stir.

”You should talk to them,” a frail voice rasped from the back of the cage. A young girl, so thin she looked like a skeleton draped in skin, crawled forward on hands and knees. Her eyes, sunken in a gaunt face, held a surprising clarity. ”Over there,” she nodded towards the healthier women. ”They’re… cleaner. Better.”

She coughed, a harsh, wet sound that racked her whole body. ”We’re… we’re broken. Useless.”

Lyssandra surveyed the scene, her expression unreadable beneath the mask. The stench of decay, both physical and spiritual, was overwhelming. She saw the resignation in the eyes of the broken women, the way they avoided looking at her, staring instead at the dirt floor.

’Their wills are all gone,’ Lyssandra thought. ’Completely shattered.’ A wave of something unfamiliar washed over her. Not pity. More like… frustration. ’Such wasted potential.’

Lyssandra turned away from the broken women, dismissing their despair for now. She moved to the cages holding the healthier, cleaner captives.

”I am not with the bandits,” she stated flatly, her voice echoing slightly in the confined space. ”Tell me why you are here.”

A thick silence descended, heavy with caution and fear. The women exchanged glances, unsure if they could trust this cloaked stranger.

After a long moment, a young woman near the front spoke up. Her voice was soft, holding a hint of resilience.

She had medium-length brown hair, partly braided into a simple plait. She wore an off-the-shoulder white blouse with loose sleeves and a long, reddish-brown skirt, practical village garb.

Not conventionally stunning, she possessed a quiet, neighborly charm – the kind of girl you might pass on a country lane.

”We’re from villages near the border of Indyrge,” she said, her gaze fixed on the floor. ”The bandits… they come every few months. They take money, livestock… and women. We’re simple folk. We couldn’t fight them.”

Her shoulders slumped, defeated. ”They took us from our homes, our families.”

Lyssandra nodded, her gaze shifting between the two distinct zones of captivity.

”Why the separation?” she asked.

The village girl glanced towards the miserable cages opposite, a flicker of compassion crossing her face before she quickly looked away.

”We’re… we’re all still untouched,” she said, a faint blush staining her cheeks. ”Virgins. The bandits said… in a week, they’ll move us elsewhere. I think… they plan to sell us. Virgins fetch better prices on the slave markets, or so I’ve heard the guards say.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes welling with unshed tears.

”Those women… over there…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. ”They were already wives, or widows. Their innocence… it was long gone. So the bandits… they used them. Over and over. As… as toys.”

The last word came out as a choked sob, quickly stifled by a clenched fist against her mouth.

”I see.” Lyssandra’s voice held no emotion. It was a simple statement of fact. With a wave of her hand, the cage doors swung open with a dull clang.

”You are all free. Go.” She stepped back, gesturing towards the tent flap.

But no one moved.

The women huddled together, staring at the open doors like they led to a bottomless pit. Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the ragged breathing of the captives.

”But… we have nowhere to go,” a voice piped up. It was a different girl, her face streaked with dirt and tears.

”My village… the bandits burned it. My family… they’re gone.” A chorus of agreement followed.

”The war with Khashahria…” said another, her voice trembling. ”Our homes near the border... all destroyed and the fields salted. Nothing left there.”

”No families, no food or shelter,” murmured a third. Their voices overlapped, a litany of despair.

They’d been stolen from wreckage and ruin, and now, offered freedom, they faced the same emptiness. The jungle outside promised only death, monsters, starvation, or worse.

Lyssandra turned towards the broken women’s cages, her gaze sweeping over the huddled, shivering forms. The same resignation permeated the air here. They didn’t even look at the open doors, their despair too deep.

Then, a sound. So faint, it was almost missed. A dry, ragged whisper, like dead leaves scraping together.

”Please… kill me.”

It came from the deepest shadow of the cage holding the most broken women. A figure crawled forward, dragging a useless, twisted leg. She was barely more than bones, clothed in filthy rags.

Her face was a horror – pockmarked with sores, missing teeth. Her eyes were sunken, hollow pits. But the most shocking thing was the empty sockets where her eyes should have been, weeping yellow pus.

She had been blinded, long ago.

”I’ve lost… everything,” she gasped, her breath rattling. ”Honor… sight… legs…”

A sob choked her, a dry, painful sound. Tears, or perhaps ichor, leaked from her hollow sockets, tracing clean lines through the grime on her cheeks.

”Please… end it. I beg you.”

Her voice broke on the last words, and she collapsed, shaking silently with grief and pain.

”I understand.” Lyssandra’s words echoed with cold finality. ”Anyone else who wishes to end it, step outside now.”

Immediately, there was movement. From the broken cages, women began shuffling towards the exit. They moved with the stiff, painful gait of the long-suffering. Some walked on trembling legs, some limped heavily, some crawled. But all moved with a grim determination, a relief almost palpable in the air.

No more pain. No more degradation. Just a swift end.

They passed Lyssandra without a word, their hollow eyes fixed on the tent flap like moths to a flame. The sighs of relief that escaped them were like the rustling of dry leaves.

Soon, only the virgin women remained, their faces pale with shock and confusion as they watched their shattered sisters file out. But one figure lingered in the broken cages. A small woman, her scalp bare and scarred, her face crisscrossed with old wounds.

Lyssandra approached her. ”You still wish to live?” she asked, her tone flat while studying the woman’s dark, feverish eyes.

The woman looked back, meeting Lyssandra’s gaze with unsettling intensity. ”I do,” she hissed, her voice like sandpaper. ”I want to kill them. All of them!”

Her hands, mere claws of bone and gristle, clenched into tight fists.

”I want to rip out their organs while they scream. I want to tear their skin into strips! I want to grind their bones to dust and scatter the ashes so nothing of them remains!”

Each sentence dripped with unshed anger, a dark, consuming madness. Her eyes burned with a fanatical light. ”I want them gone! Forever!”

Lyssandra stared at the woman for a long moment. Then, without a word, she stood up and turned away, striding towards the tent flap.

’I should have felt something…’ she thought, her mind a whirl of confusion.

’Pity? Disgust? Rage? Something?’

But she felt only… emptiness.

And underneath it, the ever-present thrum of lust. Lust at their broken beauty. Lust when she saw the fear in the virgins’ eyes.

’I’m messed up,’ she concluded, the thought cold and clear.

Stepping outside the tent, Lyssandra found the broken women gathered in a pitiful group. They stood or lay on the damp ground, their faces turned towards the sky. A few wept silently, others stared blankly into the middle distance. The blinded woman knelt, her hands clasped together as if in prayer, awaiting release.

Lyssandra took a deep breath as she closed her eyes, accessing her System Shop. Scrolling past weapons and armors, potions and spells, she searched. She remembered seeing a skill that might serve this purpose. ’Aha. There it was.’

[Soul Vault]

Price: 1000 LP

Description: Stores a soul at the moment of its death within a crystalline matrix. Soul must be stored within moments of passing. Can be released or utilized later.

A flash of satisfaction touched Lyssandra’s lips.

”Almost all of my LP was gone but at least their deaths won’t be for nothing,” she murmured.

With a thought, she purchased the skill, feeling a surge of energy pulse through her as the System acknowledged the transaction.

She approached the waiting women. ”Are you ready? Any regret?”

A chorus of weary affirmations answered her. ”Yes.” ”Please.” ”End it.”

The blinded woman merely nodded, a tear tracing down her sunken cheek.