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.
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