Tuesday, January 31, 2012

...and with a firm pull, the Nemedian bottoms stretched tightly over her girlish hips and in place upon her ass

The fabric was thick and slippery to the touch, a glossy light brown that caught the sunlight and even nearby torch or lamplight with a dulled reflectivity. Due to the enchanted nature of the briefs they were slick and elastic; so much so that they clung tightly to her thighs once she’d hauled them up past her knees. The short pants twisted and snapped audibly against her skin as she stretched them up and over her hips; the material was uncomfortable- pulled tightly between her legs as they were yanked into place; the thin material snugly clinging to her asshole and buttocks, plainly outlining her cunt lips.

Made from ficus elastica from distant Vendhya....rubber...they were set with a rune of protection that made them nearly indestructible, but also laden with sigils of defeat and misadventure; wearing them comes at a very high cost. The servant of Xotil that enchanted the skimpy bottoms so informed Kiri that they must come with a curse and price for the spells set on them- a condition the barbarian slave readily accepted..

It was hard to imagine a more sensuous, scanty and scandalous undergarment, save perhaps for the silken breechcloths worn by slave girls in Stygia or Turan, but in their cases would be wearing such beneath longer silks and veils on common streets, whereas Kiri, uninhibited, collared barbarian blonde would have only so much to wear publicly. Even in those times where she would roam freely, not tethered by the leash of a slaver or rightful owner, she couldn’t help but be running freely in crowded city streets or crawling through darkly perilous dungeons in just the Nemedian styled bottoms. The nakedness, the absolute vulnerability and helplessness they enforced...the mere threat of the horrific torture she would suffer while clad in them made her dizzy and lightheaded with disbelief.

How many stabbing sword blades had found her naked flesh and had slashed or plunged deeply because of them, how many thrusting spear tips had sought to penetrate and ream her asshole and vagina? How many times had the eager blades of vengeful and sardonic female Nemedian warriors chopped and mutilated her breasts and genitals in the heat of bloody combat? How many times had she stood or knelt in the presence of haughty Stygian noblewomen, stripped to the scandalously short briefs while brutally whipped and humiliated? How often had those scornful southern aristocrats laughed and told her how northern, female barbarians were simply waiting for their whips?

And how often, with salt from her sweat-slickened brow stinging her eyes, tearing with humiliation and desperate helplessness at the hands of Stygian noblewomen, had she confessed her weakness, her inferiority, and admitted under the stabbing daggers of their cold, cruel laughter that, yes, she was indeed waiting for their whips? How many times had she returned to Khemi lustful and lubricated, overpowered with the urge to feel the savagely painful kiss of Stygian, barbed leather on her breasts and genitals?

How often had she groveled on her knees, carrying a blessed whip delicately in her teeth, crawling like the collared bitch she was on all fours, offering said whip submissively to the hand that would beat her with it? Humbly kissing the sandals of noblewomen as well the revered ground on which they had walked, before lovingly kissing the whip and raising her hips, begging desperately for the inevitable ass-whipping? The instrument of her punishment and torture that had brought so much bittersweet suffering and meaning to her doomed life? How much prouder and content could she be to be what she was?

How often had her body been broken on the rack or wheel, or hung spiked in crucifixion or impaled on a bloody stake, and all while clad in her scanty briefs? How many more years would she know Hyboria’s most bloody and violent and painful terrors, tortures and deaths? Was there no end to the savage torment the Goddess would see inflicted and enforced upon her?

Without even a second thought, Kiri knew that answer instantly, The pain would never end, the helplessness, the torture and the humiliation was as eternal as the stars. When at last Hyboria had had its fill of her flesh and blood, finally slaked all its cruelties and injustices upon her helpless, fettered body...there would be the terrors and horrific tortures in the Hells.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

A Disclaimer

While the images herein contain screenshots of Age of Conan: Unchained, property of game developer Funcom, Kiri and related character concepts presented here are protected original work of PhanPhoe Creations©.

Nemedian Hot-Pants Across Hyboria is an adults-only blog and chronicle of original characters in the liberal sex and violence endemic to Robert E. Howard's Hyborian Age. Contained herein is sexuality and violence, cosmic horror in the vein of Howard and other sci-fi and pulp fiction writers including H.P. Lovecraft, August Derleth and John Norman, BD/SM and cheesecake themes.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Showcase- Hot Pants Themed Costumes

Three costumed themed on the Hyborian 'hot pants', or Nemedian Cursecaller Breeches.

Kiri's stand-issue adventuring garb

A set of cursed Acheronian bracers, a circlet and girdle, laden with runes of defeat

Shawana's standard adventuring garb

Monday, January 9, 2012

Defeated by Delia

 Regarding Kiri's helplessness at the hands of the Red Hand 

Kiri’s relationship with Delia of Tortage’s Red Hand was special from the beginning. The Red Hand lieutenant and the half-naked slave forged a reciprocal dependence almost immediately; each sensing the other’s lusts and needs; Kiri sensing Delia’s dominance over her, and her desire to torment her, the Red Hand commander discerning that Kiri yearned for torment.

As more capable hands wrested the fabled Atlantean artifact, the Phoenix Medallion, from admiral Strom’s lair and secreted it out of the Barachan Isles, Kiri’s role for the resistance was to provide the bait. Kiri's nature soon became evident with the resistance, who realized she could be used, even exploited for their ends. Some including Casilda and Tina were against such abuse of the wanton barbarian, but others were seemingly for it. Proxima was the most practical; after all, the half-naked, collared whore wanted to suffer torture and humiliation. Why not give it to her, perhaps as a reward for her service to them?

Valeria was coldly methodical about the whole situation; as a pirate queen, she'd sent her own men to their deaths at times, had enemies killed, and overseen shipments of slaves in Tortage. Kiri was a piece of meat, an expendable tool. Just one more slave that would face a bloody and ignoble end for a greater cause. Clearly the collared barbarian had no great potential to help them other than sacrificing herself, so best for all that she do just that. Kiri had also spoken to her of a prophecy guiding the misfortune and suffering in her life; to the pirate queen it was very right and proper to let Kiri fulfill her destiny. In her personal meeting with Kiri, the barbarian slut clearly understood that she was being handed over to Strom's soldiers to be killed, and was elated and eager to be put to death. Valeria was destined for greatness again once Strom fell- it was beneficial to exploit and kill Kiri to serve both of their destinies.

As Strom came close to finding the names of key members of the resistance and was about to wantonly kill to get them, Kiri, under instruction from Valeria herself was advised to hand herself over to the Red Hand to buy time. Even the usurped pirate queen was startled at the fervent eagerness with which the Brythunian-Æsir slave accepted her mission.

Taken to the torture chambers in the lowest levels of Strom’s keep, with Delia supervising and Mithrelle looking on with tremendous amusement, Kiri was tortured horribly and brutally. Absolutely helpless in Delia’s chains, her mission became the worst-case scenario that Valeria had warned her of; that as a prisoner of the Red Hand, she might be beyond the reach of rescue and any hope of help.

Knowing all this, barely suppressing her natural desire to suffer, Kiri had accepted what she knew to be a tremendously dangerous mission, and what Valeria knew was a job fit for an expendable member of the resistance, fed from the beginning as a dupe with false information. Kiri is a slave who likes pain, who likes to be tortured and humiliated, and very clearly jumped at the chance to suffer at the hands of Strom’s minions.

Imprisoned and tortured for several long days, it was only during one of the final resistance raids into the palace that gave Kiri her opportunity for rescue. Soon after, she was present at the Battle of Tortage, which had much of the coastal pirate haven under a pall of smoke and flickering with flames as Strom’s men fell one by one, then finally the admiral himself.

Encountering Delia on the fringe of the chaos, their final deal was struck- Kiri would provide the distraction needed for Delia to escape into the jungle and towards the volcano, where few if any were likely to follow. Upon doing so, Delia lowered and extended a long knife to the crotch of Kiri's breeches, informing her that she would be "slit open from her filthy cunt to her worthless, collared throat". Kiri begged for a slow, painful death, but Delia is not believed to have had any intent of killing her new torture doll. With the savage Picts mostly wiped from White Sands Isle, Delia had a fallback point to avoid discovery by Valeria. The price for letting Kiri live meant the slave must return at times to the isles to meet Delia and accept even further tortures at her hands. Once again, the relationship of eager Mistress and slave was perfected.

~Chronicler Olinda

“Greetings, Mistress Delia. A good day for suffering in Tortage, isn’t it?”

“It is always a good day for suffering in Tortage, my dear, now that slaves are roaming the streets once more. Test Delia of the Red Hand and you shall always lose.”

“Delicious. What satisfying and shameful defeat I've arranged for you. Oh you pathetic little collared whore, you just couldn’t wait to get back here, could you? You almost tripped over your own feet when you saw me.”

“And how easily I defeated you too. You never even had a chance, did you girl?”

"No mighty Mistress...Kiri was easily defeated."

"Ah, and who exactly was it that little Kiri was defeated by?"

"Kiri was easily defeated by the mighty Delia of Tortage!"

"And now you're back, to taste defeat yet again, slave."

"Yes Mistress."
"As I commanded it, slave."

"Yes Mistress."

"Chin up, whore. You've got lots of suffering to do."

"Thank you Mistress."

"It just isn't fair, is it my little whip whore?"

"Kiri is your slave, Mistress decides what is fair."

"Oh, she will. Everything is more than fair for you, little Kiri. How terrible it must be to be so helpless. How lowly a thing to be so weak and to wear a leash, like the collared little bitch you are."
“What honor to be conquered by the Great Delia of Tortage- what privilege to wear her leash!"

"But the shame of being a half-naked slave in Tortage's streets, it must be terrible to bear."

"Kiri will walk the streets proudly with her head high. She'll let them all know she's enslaved by the great Delia!"
"And be sure to tell them just how helpless you are, bitch."

"Mistress has power over Kiri, s-she can do with her as she wishes...”

“Oh my little wanton slave, she will. She will indeed. Come along then, I can’t wait to get to this.”
"Valeria still sits on the throne in Tortage Keep, that traitorous harlot, so I regret we won't have use of all the toys in my torture chamber, but I've still got an impaling spear waiting for you."

"Kiri's ass is ready for this spear, Mistress- she'll squeal well for you."
“Yes, you will. Do you remember the woman Proxima? I caught up with her a week ago, and impaled her at last. She might have been a resistance member, but she truly squealed like a brainless wench that could do no harm with that spear up her ass. You get the honor of taking the same spear she did…I didn’t even bother to clean it for you; see what your filthy ass thinks of that. Now get going slave, I want to see this even more than you do!”

Profile- Shawana of Punt

Shawana of Punt

Shawana was born and trained a female warrior in Punt, one of the Black Kingdoms of the far south, and upriver of Stygia on the Styx. Athletic and agile, she was quick with a sword and her wits, but not quite fast enough to avoid an ambush of Stygian slavers while hunting on the veldt in northern Punt. Having been able to kill three of her attackers, she proved outnumbered and was chased cross-country, too far from her tribe for help. Eventually run down, Shawana was beaten, whipped and throttled by the slavers, who then savagely raped and collared her.

Stipped to a breechcloth and leashed, she was marched to the Styx and forced to a rower’s bench on a trireme, which sailed down river to Khemi, where she was officially processed as a slave on Akhet Isle and trained.

Kept for a time as a noble house servant and a sex slave, her masters recognized her aptitude was such to hazard indoctrinating her into the arcane arts in service of Set. At first, Shawana detested this as an evil religion, but the power she was able to wield came with the realization she could eventually turn it on her captors. Her physical prowess was matched and eventually outpaced by the arcane power she could call, and this eventually earned her the status as a house guard.

When Shawana got her chance, the black warrioress made good her escape and headed back upriver toward Khopshef Province, where she sought out the cult of Derketo. While the Setite priesthood firmly ruled Stygia, Derketo’s faithful were still a power to be reckoned with, standing firm against Set’s minions. Entering the Great Pyramid at Khopshef, she entered service as temple prostitute in one of the few places that would keep her protected from Set’s priests. Gaining power until she was ready to risk crossing the desert once more, she returned in disguise to Akhet and booked passage to the colder northern kingdoms.

Shawana’s actions have earned her a death mark by Set’s priesthood, but her power has increased sufficiently that she has handled those Stygian agents sent against her. Her tendency to go about outlandishly dressed in very little clothing and with bright jewelry and cosmetics as an entertainer and courtesan has allowed her to hide even in plain sight in Stygia.

Encountering terrible suffering in Hyboria

Traveling northern lands
Invoking Set's arcane might in the frigid northern wastes
Shawana, Slave of Set

Beautiful warrioress of the far south
Shawana, female black warrior of Punt

Monday, January 2, 2012

A Barbarian Slave Butchered Hideously in the Villas

This is Chronicler Olinda, reporting to you from the noble’s district in the city of Tarantia in Aquilonia, where local guards have reported a gruesomely bloody murder on the grounds of the Villa Amiel. A female barbarian, collared and presumably a slave of sorts, entered the villa nearly naked, wielding a sword and wearing little more than a pair of Nemedian-styled beeches. Not surprisingly, she was easily killed in a blood-soaked sword fight by the mercenaries guarding the villa and its grounds.

Stripped to her Nemedian short briefs, making her way into the villa

Engaging a female mercenary in the halls

Blows are traded as her blade rings off a shield

The beginning of the end: a sudden slash across her breasts

Her left breast explodes, mutilated under the return stroke

Legs apart in a defensive stance, Kiri leaves her genitals open to the finishing blow

A horribly painful wound, the blood spurts in streams

Crumpling under the pain and blood loss...

The noble mercenary's boot came down on her breasts, pinning her helpless

In a split second the blade is in her belly

...cutting down and deep into the front of her pants, toward the crotch

DEFEATED! A bloody, ignoble end for the Brythunian slut

Leaving a lovely corpse in the villa on the blood-splattered tiles

The latest of countless gruesome ends for this fighting slave

Thighs spread under the indifferent watch of her conqueror