Barbarian Whore in Stygia

Arriving by ship on Akhet Isle in Khemi, where foreigners are tolerated

Making her way to the Souk

The exotic wares and many vendors in the marketplace

Their eyes had been on her from the moment she’d passed through the Souk, and not as if any could be blamed for their voyeurism. The collared bitches’ hair gleamed pale, her eyes blue-gray and skin pallid like a cow’s, clearly marking her as a northern barbarian. It was the tight band of iron at her throat and almost total lack of clothing that quickly got her marked as a slave and whore. Of course, both insults were completely true, but Kiri wore both appellations with excitement and pride.

Wearer Of The Pants: A barbarian and her prized, scandalously tight briefs

It got some of regulars in the market to solicit her; her northern accent and the fact she was clearly a stupid, illiterate barbarian made the negotiations challenging, but she didn’t need to speak for what they wanted her to do, and the indecent harlot had no reservations in putting out. She sucked an erect cock as if it was the last she’d ever enjoy, gulping come thirstily as if she’d not had sustenance in days. She’d reared like a bitch in heat at their behest, taking even more loads in her cunt or deep up her ass, always offering the courtesy of licking the penetrating member spotlessly clean afterward. Some of Stygia's soldier took meticulous care of their camels and horses, and reportedly she'd been paid to service at least one stallion, but needed no urging for others.

Noticing the scornful gaze of the Stygian women

Attention gained by the haughty Issa, who oversees the market

There was something licentious and sexual about her every move. Her body, plainly displayed for all to see was skinny, emaciated, with knobby elbows and knees, what insufficient sinew and muscle her gaunt form possessed seemed tightly drawn. So it was that she walked with an awkward gait brought on by obvious weakness and much abuse, but with a sensual grace that seemed to beg the prurient attentions of all around her.

The scanty briefs she wore were her only clothing; short pants of dulled silk that fit snugly to begin with, doubly secured with a copper-gilt girdle that hauled the bottoms up ever tighter between her skinny, pale thighs and over barely-covered arse. The undergarment was small even for a breechcloth, and if anything resembled a diaper…given the degree of heavy staining on them this was very likely the case. Especially visible was the staining on the backside of the briefs, and hint of spume in her pale gold locks that was clearly the seed of something spilt vigorously, but with an off-white thickness, and in quantities too great to have been human.


Sliding off the silk bottoms at her side with each orbit of her hips, she wore a sheathed long sword, but it immediately begged the question if she had the strength to use it. Judging by the stripes and scars crossing her body, some obviously from whips but many having disfigured her naked teats, the query seemed to answer itself.

"What do we have here? Another barbarian cow come to whore herself on the island? My day has been busy enough."

"Look, if you're looking to suck some cock while you're here, you'll need a license like all the other whores."



"You're filthy naked even for a barbarian whore. I could call the guards, and they'd have you in chains in an instant...that means you're getting my special for northern cows like you: A poisoned spear shoved up your ass, and your clit and tits hung on hooks. Something tells me you'd get off on that..."



Browsing the vendors

“Northern barbarian slut! …sordid harlot! Look at how she dresses- the golden-haired hussy thinks all of Akhet is her whorehouse! The guards should have her whipped, and the priests order them to nail her to a tree and crucify her! So salacious is her undress, the way she presents like the stupid animal she is! She should have the opportunity to seduce the crucifixion tree with her ignoble writhings. Let her then see if her lewd barbarian ways avail her!” So came the venomously hissed words of local Stygian noblewomen, come to trade on the island, their open threats often following just behind her.


She heard them, of course…she’d heard them all, but maintained her silence just to keep her mounting arousal hidden from all passersby. She felt their vicious eyes on her, taking in her pale, skinny physique clad in little more than a tight-fitting, high collar and scandalously short Nemedian-styled breeches, considering all the tortures that could be prepared for her.

At times one noblewoman or a pair would plainly mention the things that might be done to her, in most explicit and gruesome detail. Browsing the wares in the Souk, she bit her lip firmly, the sweat on her brow perilously in danger of giving her away. It was becoming momentously difficult to control the gathering feeling between her lean thighs.


“Why not call the soldiers now? It would be a simple thing to have her arrested on the spot, simply for her obscenities.”


Why not, indeed? Sooner or later, the half-naked Æsir-Brythunian was certain to be arraigned on charges that would stick, and force her to understand punishment and torture as it was practiced in Stygia.


Little did those noblewomen suspect, perhaps, that the very reason Kiri had come to Stygia was in the hope of an opportunity to be brutally whipped and tormented, then cruelly, horrifyingly crucified without mercy? They would gather for the very humiliating and public spectacle of her death. They would be there to laugh and scorn derisively as her clothing was torn from her in the very streets of Khemi. They would be following her on her death march, with scornful words and suggestions that would cut like daggers, as only another woman knew best how to intensify her hurts. Abusing her body, running with their spittle as it flared under the desert sun, and with burning red stripes from the whips that hurried her on. The heat of her fantasy coupled with the droughty desert air had her almost delirious, so ardent her desire to suffer at their hands…

The collared barbarian-slave attracts the eyes of many...

Having spent a night in the Serpent's Head Inn

Her contacts have given her another mission

Crossing the common room

Having mounted and ready to ride to the piers

Upriver in Khopshef Province

On the deep sands, the ship of the desert makes the best mount

Stayover in Caravanserai

Conquered By The Worm

In an astounding display of masochistic sacrifice, Kiri and Utennia were witnessed negotiating with masters of the arena hidden in the box canyons in the desert wastes outside the port of Ardashir of Turan. The barbarian blondes actually arranged their own defeats at the gaping, toothed jaws and gullets of massive worms. In an amazingly one-sided violent display of brutality, the women proceeded to strip down to little more than breechcloths and entered the arena to face the titanic mother worm and its ravenous brood.


The situation turned almost immediately desperate, the blondes were all but helpless in the face of the squirming, slime-slick brood, claiming only a few worm broodlings before they were gruesomely pulled down and devoured, much to the wild cheers and delight of the record crowd.

The Method of Their Defeat: Arranging a humiliating beating in the Ardashir arena

Arranging their defeat, the barbarian women prepare for battle

The Hyborian Dirty Pair strip and enter horrible combat

Engaging the worm

The Spiked Maw: The battle begins

Impossible Odds: From the beginning, the brood worm is much too strong a foe

A Stunning Blow: Utennia is pushed down

Moving to Assist: Kiri tries to distract a worm broodling

Facing the Brood Worm: A more terrible foe than they could imagine

Hopelessly Surrounded: The broodling worms come from every direction

Peril From All Sides: The noose tightens on our barbarian whores

A Desperately Helpless Situation: Kiri and Utennia realize there is no hope of escape

Their Last Defense: Sharpened blades slash as naked teats dangle before hungry maws

Slashing Steel and Maws: The space between glistening teeth narrows...

Trapped Between Gullets: The barbarians promise to go down with a spectacle for the crowds

Their Defeat Is At Hand

Facing The Worms

Overwhelmed

Utennia Fallen

Kiri Wormed

Kiri Mangled

Kiri Fallen: Utennia will join her in defeat

Both barbarian blondes now rest encased in the gullets of worms, stewing in the burning digestive juices. It said to be an excruciatingly painful death, that takes many months to finish, during which the victim is fully conscious and aware of her pain and terror.

~Chronicler Olinda

Hyboria's Dirty Pair

Allegedly, this pair of collared harlots first colluded at the Serpent Head's Inn on Akhet Isle at Khemi. Kiri met several adventurers, among which was Utennia, a rare Cimmerian blonde and fellow barbarian. Both with a propensity to dress scandalously and to find themselves in grievous trouble. The two departed at dusk and headed upriver to Khopshef Province, having landed at Bubshur and traveling overland into the desert, stopping at the popular oasis town of Caravanserai, by all accounts headed in the direction of the Great Pyramid at Khopshef.

Details will be forthcoming as I receive them, but given what is known about the cultists that inhabit the pyramid under the mantle of the goddess Derketo, it is most likely the pair traveled there with the deliberate intent of suffering, especially given that Kiri was tortured at the temple complex prior.

~Chronicler Olinda

...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.

A Montage of an Existence of Suffering

The many gruesome fates of the northern barbarian slave

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.

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