The Long Road to Ruin Ch. 37-39

He sheathed into her, balls-deep, then unleashed a low moan when he started to fuck her in short, rapid thrusts. Her head bounced off the silk padding of the seat, and her stomach protested as he pummeled in and out like an incessant madman. Shiloh did her best to glance over her shoulder. Tony stared straight down at her as he ravaged her. The intensity in his eyes screamed volumes, frightfully hungry and predatory. He growled a foul insult at her as he wildly hammered his ravenous cock into her eager cunt that had been speared open to the point that all she could feel was him. Each thrust was so deep, so unbelievably good, a savage fuck one after another that made her scream at the top of her lungs from the overwhelming ecstasy.

"Take that, you two bit slut," he growled as his palms manhandled her breasts, plucking roughly at her nipples. He ravaged her tender peaks the way his cock battered her pussy, slam after slam as if he wanted to rip her in half. Her head smashed against the padding, bursting white vertigo, clogging her vision for seconds. She whimpered, so helpless against the torment of his hammering fuck. Her body quaked; her muscles ached from the maddening sensations. She clung to the chair as the pleasure climbed higher then higher, digging her nails into the silk padding of the seat, not caring that she might ruin it. Her heart hammered into her throat as her ears rang. Her breath stalled. She couldn't breathe for the force of his brutal thrusts.

"Fuck," he screamed.

Explosions burst before Shiloh's eyes as a blinding orgasm consumed her whole being. Tony came mere seconds after her, growling his feral curse as he exploded, emptying spasm after spasm of hot, sticky cum inside her quivering depths. Shiloh felt like a rag doll when he withdrew then shoved her to the floor. She sprawled haphazardly, landing in a graceless heap, and yelped from the pain of the impact. She glared at him while gasping for breath.

Tony chuckled and pulled on his clothes, dressing himself in a fine silk royal blue tunic and matching pants. "Get up and make yourself presentable," he snarled, his eyes flicking over her disdainfully.

Shiloh lurched to her feet then hastily grabbed her dress. She pulled it over her nearly nude body. "You're a fuckin' prick," she growled back, "and you're good as fuckin' dead!"

Tony rolled his eyes at her, "Shut your mouth before I stuff it full of my cock again. You'll do nothing except what I tell you to do. Call it paybacks for acting like you're better than everyone else. Call it paybacks for choosing the wrong man first."

Shiloh's blue eyes clashed with his. She knew who he was talking about. "And if I don't? What then, tough guy? Will you put me in my place again? Will you shove me over a chair then stuff that poor excuse for a cock into me and fuck my brains out? What, Tony?" She lifted her arms up perpendicular to her shoulders then cocked her head in a saucy manner that challenged him. "I pegged you for a fuckin' loser then and guess what? My opinion hasn't changed. You don't scare me one bit."

He moved closer to her, relentlessly glaring down at her. Despite the fact that he had a few inches on her in height, Shiloh wasn't intimidated in the least. Reaching behind her back, she dug into her dress and from a sheath sewn into it, she pulled out Bloodlust, the black steel dagger that Jacia had gifted her. Then she slammed it deep into his gut, jerking then twisting it violently, spilling bowels and intestine onto the finely carpeted floor. Tony unleashed a horrific scream before she cleanly slashed his throat. Blood splattered in all directions, soaking her skin.

Pulling back, she sheathed the knife in its hiding spot then headed for the door. She had to get out of there. Despite the fact that she knew he'd be mightily upset, Nathan deserved to know the truth. She ran down the short hallway, catching sight of the number of guests which had gathered in Tony's jungle themed ballroom. She continued on, dashing to the stairs. She took them two by two, her long legs making short work of them. As she hustled through the grand entrance then passed the bubbling fountain, the air around her shimmered while dozens of red and black armored soldiers materialized.

Shiloh shrieked as several wrestled her to the ground. Then seemingly out of the shadows came a small force of black clad defenders. The two sides clashed as weapons clanged against each other. It gave Shiloh the opportunity to make her escape. She scrambled up off the ground then made a bee-line for the door, ducking and weaving through the crush of men fighting for dominance. She jerked the front door open, only to be grabbed by a half dozen soldiers. "Don't move, whore!" One of them shouted then slammed her down to the cobblestones. Manacles were fastened about her wrists and ankles. One burly soldier hefted her up, throwing her over his shoulder. She struggled frantically until she caught sight of Cata hiding in the doorway of Stan's ruined house. She mouthed the words, "Help me!" before they carried her out of sight.

O.O

Never in a million years would Shiloh have guessed the fate that awaited her when she arrived at the Dhorn Headquarters, once her father's Military Annex. General Galley's offices had been housed in this very building. How coincidental that she had just been thinking of that a few short days ago?

Once inside the building, the unit of commandos led her to a small round office, setting her down on her feet in front a man with the coldest pewter eyes she'd ever seen before. Shiloh recognized him immediately. A gasp ripped her from throat. It is him! Arto Benthur. She clenched her fists then took a step back.

"So we meet again, whore," he charged. "This time there will be no escape for you. We have you and you will be our honored guest!"

Shiloh met his glare evenly, unwilling to cower before him, as her manacles were removed. She rubbed the circulation back into her wrists then shifted her eyes back and forth, mentally tabulating the number of Dhorn guards in the room. Soon she realized there were far too many. She cursed under her breath. Fuck... Attacking them would be suicide and she knew it. Arto knew it as well. "Don't even think about it, whore." He gave an arrogant nod to the guardsman nearest the door, who promptly left the room. Moments later, he returned with a small crate then set it on the desk between Shiloh and Arto. No emotion whatsoever showed upon Arto's hard face as he spoke the next words. "Strip then place your belongings in the crate. Keep your hands where we can see them at all times."

"Fuck you," Shiloh retorted, spitting at him. Her eyes took on crimson glow as she openly defied him.

Arto moved swiftly around the desk. One of his hands came up and connected with her face, delivering a vicious slap. "I said strip your clothes off then place them in the crate."

Shiloh laughed in his face. "You hit like a girl," she taunted him, knowing he'd punish her even more. She flirted with insanity in that moment. Arto Benthur could kill her on the spot and no one would stop him.

His lips curled then he slapped her again, adding to it enough force to knock her off her feet. She hit the floor hard, sprawling gracelessly for the second time that evening. He then yanked her to her feet by the roots of her hair and shook her. "You're trying my patience, whore. I will not hesitate to kill you, but there are a few answers I want first. The expediency in which you give me these answers will determine how painful your death is."

Shiloh struggled against his grasp then sneered at him, "It'll be a cold day in hell before I take my clothes off, you limp dicked-"

Arto cut her off with a pulverizing slap to the mouth, which split her lip wide open. He snapped his fingers then every soldier in the room converged on her. Hands tore at her clothes, ripping her silk dress to shreds. They tore at her skin, raising red welts and blackening bruises on her creamy white skin. When they finish, they left her lying completely naked in a quivering heap on the stone floor.

"Take her away," Arto ordered. "Put her in the special cell."

The Dhorn guardsman picked her up and dragged her limp form out of the room then down a lonely dark corridor to a set of stairs which led to the bowels of Headquarters. They took her to a dank cell then threw her into it. Shiloh smacked the floor hard. As her head hit, stars erupted in front of her eyes. She groaned then pushed herself up on her elbows and knees, cursing her own stupidity for taunting someone in power who held dominion over whether she lived or died. Shiloh knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Arto would kill her, if given the opportunity. Her death would be painful and long in coming.

"Fuck..." she muttered then scooted over to a scattering of dirty straw that served as a bed pallet. Her lips curled derisively as she scanned the dank cell they threw her into. The smell of unwashed bodies assailed her senses as she sucked in a ragged breath. Adding to the overwhelming stench was a green pool of stagnant water that covered the far side of the cell. Her eyes focused upon the pool. Amidst the water perched on a raised pile of fecal matter sat the biggest, blackest rat she'd ever seen. Its beady red eyes burned with hunger. The rat hissed then leapt from its perch, charging at her on stubby legs. Shiloh screamed, scrambling to her feet. She could see its yellow tinged razor sharp teeth. The rat sprang from the ground with its teeth bared, landed on her thigh. Tiny claws dug into her flesh as it sank its teeth in. She screamed then slammed her fists into its furry body repeatedly, but the rat refused to relinquish its hold on her. Finally she managed to slide her hands around the creature's neck and squeezed tightly then yanked it away from her leg. She screamed brokenly as her flesh tore blood spurting. Within her tight hold, the rat squirmed, clawing at her arms in effort to break loose. Shiloh twisted its tiny neck, snapping it, killing the rat instantly. She tossed its carcass to the pool of water then sank down on the disgusting pallet.

Deep wracking sobs filled the cell as blood continued to pour from her wound. Try as she might to put pressure onto it, she could not stem the flow. She weakened as delirium set in.

More tiny red eyes peaked from within the stagnant pool. Rats converged on her, biting her flesh. She halfheartedly fended them off, but soon gave up, convinced she would die here.

As she rested at death's door, false salvation came in the form of a Dhorn soldier, who moved her to a different cell. This one was cleaner and rat free. He gave her a lesser healing draught, which purged her system of the filth fever she'd contracted from the rat bites. His generosity though, was only a temporary reprieve. The worst was yet to come.

O.O

Countless days passed while she lingered listlessly in her cell. Her parched throat ached from dire thirst as her tongue swelled, unable to produce even a smidge of saliva to moisten her mouth. Even her eyes suffered from dryness. She could barely blink without feeling the sensation of sand lodged within her eye sockets. It was so unlike the Dhorn to allow a wanted prisoner to waste away from thirst or hunger.

Her stomach rumbled loudly as fierce hunger plagued her. She'd never felt this ravenous before. A piercing ache settled within her head and she felt as if it would swell then explode from the blood pounding.

Shiloh squeezed her eyes shut in a feeble attempt to block out the blinding hunger. She opened her mouth to scream, but not a sound came out. Surely she'd go mad. Surely this torture would be the death of her. She curled further into a ball then sobbed soundlessly. One name lingered on her lips.

Bastian... Save me... Please... I need you...

O.O

She drifted in and out of consciousness, willing the hand of death to take her during her more lucid moments. As she sat on the brink of sheer madness, her cell door opened then Arto Benthur stepped inside, flanked by his normal contingent of six guards.

"Grab her," he ordered then exited the room as swiftly as he had entered. Two of the guards immediately complied lifting her from under her armpits then dragged her out of the cell. Following their commander, they headed to one of the many torture rooms the Dhorn had constructed within the dungeon area. Various implements designed to inflict untold pain on their victims stood amidst the room's 40 foot radius.

"Chain her hands," Arto barked then watched as manacles were secured around her slender wrists. "Suspend her from the yardarm." He motioned to a wooden structure that stood eight feet tall with an extended arm capable of rotating back and forth.

Two of his guards lifted her body in the arm then placed the chain that connected the manacles over a metal hook. Shiloh screamed hoarsely as the bones in her wrists cracked. She kicked and struggled as the manacles bit into her skin, raising red welts.

Arto swung the forearm until she hung suspended over one of three deep vats. "Do you see what sits beneath you? Take a good long look. One of those is the fate which awaits you. What will it be? Shall I dip you in acid which will eat your flesh away to the bone? Shall I dip you into fire, thus cleanse your earthly form of its many sins? Or will it be the blood freezing depths of cold water?"

Shiloh weakly lifted her chin from its resting place on her chest and glared at him. She knew full well she couldn't tell him a damn thing. The fate of too many people rested on her shoulders. No... I won't, her mind screamed. The faces of the ones she cared about flashed before her eyes. Master Nathan, Chella, Alfons, Rhys, Essex... Vico... She wouldn't betray them. She couldn't.

Arto swung her around then she flailed her long legs in his directions, blatantly defying him. Resolve burned on his face. He swung her again then stopped the yardarm, dropping the arm down to plunge her into the vat below her.

Mind numbing cold assaulted every inch of her body as it engulfed her. She opened her mouth in a silent scream as water filled her mouth, gagging her. She kicked and sputtered, flailing about mindlessly. Bitter ice crystals took residence inside her. Knowing it would probably be the death of her, Shiloh took a few gulps of water, wetting her parched throat. It burned going down.

Then Arto raised her out of the water then swung her back over the stone floor. Shiloh let loose a horrified scream after she filled her lungs with air. "Now do you feel like cooperating, whore? You should feel grateful that you weren't plunged helplessly into the acid."

She bit her frigid blue lips to keep from insulting him further. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would do it, though it would be only at the end, when he had either broken her, or knew he never would. The cold-eyed Commander looked her up and down before a smirk momentarily ghosted over his firm thin lips. "Have you nothing to say?" He taunted then walked to a nearby table. Slowly he perused the contents resting upon it before selecting a rather wicked looking pair of needle-nosed pliers. He twirled them in his finger as he approached her once more. "Lower her."

His command was immediately followed. "Bring the spreader," he growled then accepted a three foot long iron bar with manacles at each end. He fit them around her ankles then snapped his fingers. "Hold her still. This bitch will talk."

Two Dhorn guardsmen held her legs stiff, nearly locking her knees with the force they exerted to hold her still. Arto brandished the pliers, clamping them upon the nail of her biggest toe. Swiftly he jerked, separating the nail from her toe. Shiloh screamed pitifully, bucking her hips. The Dhorn clenched her tighter as another guardsman gripped her torso. Broken sobs tinged with bitter agony ripped from her throat.

Arto waited until she finished screaming to speak again. "Tell me everything I wish to know then I will afford you a clean death. Come now, Belara... if that's truly your name, talk to me."

"Not Belara," she whispered softly, urging him to get closer in order to hear her.

"Of course not," his eyes flashed with anger. "And your father isn't the fisherman from the docks, correct?"

She shook her head in denial, but the word that came from her mouth firmly contradicted it. "Yes."

Arto inclined his head at the guards surrounding her. Uncaring hands resumed their hold on her tender flesh, causing fresh bruises, while Arto moved to her next toe, proceeding to rip the nail from it as well. She screamed again.

He waited before jerking a third toenail out, eliciting another tortured scream from her raw throat. "I can do this all day until you have no more toenails left, but I tire of your insolence. Talk now."

Shiloh forced herself to cease her sobbing, hiccupping loudly. "He's not my father," she whispered.

"Tell me your real name!" Arto crisply demanded.

"Shiloh," she mouthed, her voice barely audible.

Arto stepped closer to her in order to hear. "LOUDER!"

"Shiloh," she brought the octave of her voice to a mere whisper.

"I tire of your game, slut. LOUDER!"

"SHILOH!" She screamed then jerked her hips violently. The iron crossbar separating her legs slammed Arto in the chest, momentarily staggering him. When he recovered, he leveled an evil glare upon her then spun the yardarm back around over the vats, plunging her into the pit of flame. The wail of the damned ripped from her throat as fire licked her flesh, burning hair and skin. Jerking her back out, he dunked her into the vat of ice cold water.

"Take her down," he ordered, "Chain her to the post."

With a brief nod of his head, Arto's second in command did his commander's bidding. The spreader bar was removed from between her legs. She soon found herself chained to a standing X with her backside exposed to Arto. "Leave us," he growled to his entourage. "I will break her in my own special way."

None of his men questioned his order. They exited the room, setting the iron door. Arto chuckled mirthlessly then pressed against her. Shiloh whimpered pitifully as the metal of his armor scraped her tender burns. "You're all mine now. You know that, don't you? Now that the trials of fire and water have cleansed you, we'll cut right to the chase. I haven't forgotten you or what you did," his soft words assaulted her ears methodically. "Some way, somehow, word of my indiscretion with you reached the ears of my wife and she threw herself off a bridge on a dark stormy night. The pain proved too difficult to recover from. She stained her soul and my very name with dishonor by taking her own life just as I dishonored her by committing adultery with you. This dishonor has festered within me, now I vow to take it out of the very body you tempted me with. When I'm finished with you, no one will be able to recognize you as you once were. When I'm finished with you, I shall have you transported to the center of the city for all to see what you've become before I commence the first round of public executions."

Shiloh flinched then wondered who else he held prisoner. Could it be that the Dhorn had arrested the guests at Tony's party? Or were her fellow prisoners poor wretches the Dhorn arrested for the slightest of infractions?

He pulled back from her, hearing her audible sigh of relief that his armor no longer rubbed the raw burnt patches of her skin. With an evil laugh, he pressed his thumbs into two blistered areas then twisted. Shiloh howled from the pain, screaming foul epithets at the top of her lungs.

"Tsk.. tsk... such language. It's so unbecoming of such a young lady," Arto chided her before he repeated his previous action again. Another howl ripped from her throat, along with a smattering of curses she'd recalled hearing Vico unleash. Arto clucked his tongue. "This is only just the beginning, dear little Shiloh."