Story: Noncon Isekai, Part 25

or
A Flower Red As Blood

Chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four

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Part of Rose remembered what it had been like originally. Part of her remembered the way the world had been, before Alyra’s Blessing.

That part of her knew that Rose’s mother had been the town whore, a pretty blonde who had been raped day and night by whoever had wanted her, receiving multiple loads of sperm every day, and paid only with the bare necessity needed to keep her alive and fuckable for her next abuser. She had been impregnated as a teen, and given birth to Rose in a back alley.

As Rose had grown up, she had developed a steadily increasing awareness that her mother’s fate would be hers too, when she was of legal age and ready for rape. She had looked forward to a life of abuse, slavery, and sexual exploitation.

But her mother had refused to embrace that reality.

“It will be different one day, Rose,” she said. “Things will change. You are too beautiful and innocent. You’re a beautiful flower – just like your name – and someday you will bloom in a better world than this one.”

Rose had never really believed it. Her world was one where men ruled, and women were toys – and there was no place in such a world for freedom or justice. Deep down, she knew that she was just a cunt and a pair of tits, and her fate would be decided – needed to be decided – by a man.

And then, one day it had changed. Overnight, without warning.

She had woken up on the morning of her 18th birthday to feel, for the first time in her life, a sense of lightness and safety. The sun had been warm, and the air had been sweet and beautiful.

When she looked at her mother, sleeping nearby, she was surprised to see that – rather than being naked, bruised and covered in sperm – her mother was dressed in a pretty nightgown. She looked healthy, and her hair shone yellow-gold in the sunlight.

And, more than that, they were in beds. In a nice cottage.

Rose was overwhelmed with confusion – and then, slowly, the confusion had faded.

Of course they were in a cottage. It was their cottage. They owned a simple farm, and they made enough money to live from selling milk to the village. They were safe, and respected, and happy.

And they owed it all, of course, to Alyra the Golden, the beautiful sorceress who blessed and protected their world.

Rose no longer remembered what the world would be like without Alyra, but she knew without question that her current happiness was entirely due to the benevolence of Alyra’s blessed magic.

In this new world, men certainly stared at Rose’s tits and ass with desire, and she could often sense that they wanted to fuck her – or even rape her – but they never did. No one suggested to her that she was only good for fucking, or that she needed to be owned by a man.

Sometimes in her dreams at night, she dreamed of being raped or owned by a man – and she woke from those dreams with her cunt sopping wet, driven to masturbate by visions that she only half-remembered.

But her waking life was one where her virtue was safe, and her rights were respected, and the whole world of opportunity was available to her.

Shortly before her 19th birthday she went to apprentice at the Shrine of Gloriel. It was there that she had her first sexual experience – a brief lesbian communion with the shrine-maiden, where the maiden “blessed” her by licking her pussy until she orgasmed. It had been a very special experience for Rose, and she had always felt a little regret she had not been invited to return the favour.

After her cunt-licking induction, she had been assigned to train for the Battlemaidens – a chivalric order of trained holy warriors, sworn to defend the Sorceress Alyra and the holy shrines which propagated her blessing.

To be a Battlemaiden required three conditions – you had to be a woman, you had to be devoted to Alyra, and you had to have never known the touch of a man’s cock. Rose met all three conditions – and she proved skilled at battle as well.

Within a year she had been formally inducted into the order.

“You shall be known as Rose, the Battlemaiden of Flowers,” the shrine maiden had said, as she formally presented Rose with her holy longsword. “From the purity of your chastity comes a flower red as blood, proof of your devotion to Alyra the Golden.”

If Rose had felt regret at not being able to lick the shrine maiden’s pussy, it ended that night, as her fellow battlemaidens celebrated her induction with a sapphic orgy, as the shrine maiden watched and masturbated. Rose licked the pussy of each of her battle-sisters, and orgasmed more times than she could count before finally falling asleep.

But despite it all, she told herself that she wasn’t a lesbian After all, she still had dreams of men – dreams where the men forced her down, and pushed their cocks inside her, and raped her until she orgasmed again and again…

In her new capacity as a Battlemaiden she had been assigned to look over the village of Sommerswyd. And her life was complete. She had beautiful armour. She had respect. She had a duty.

And she owed it all to Alyra the Golden.

Each morning and evening she gave thanks to Alyra. She had never seen the Sorceress, but she knew – as everyone knew – that Alyra was responsible for everything good in their world. Especially everything that was good for women.

And, sure, Sommerswyd wasn’t perfect. She knew that Gargan the Baker lusted after the town’s washer woman. She knew the tavernkeep had impure thoughts about the mayor’s daughters. She knew that Amy, who lived down by the river, was the object of certain non-brotherly urges from her stepbrother.

But none of them did anything about it. Because that sort of thing didn’t happen in Alyra’s world.

And then Justin had come.

Not only had he beaten her in battle – unthinkable, for a trained Battlemaiden – but he had stripped her nude in front of the entire town, and then made her crawl, like an animal, her cunt exposed, her tits swaying beneath her.

And the town had laughed at her. They had cheered for Justin’s victory. After everything she had done to protect Sommerswyd, they had enjoyed seeing her naked body. They had called her a dog-fucker and a cock-sucking bitch.

And somehow Justin had enslaved her – forced her to follow him around, and obey his commands, and fight his battles.

She didn’t understand it. His story was insane – that the world was meant to be hell for women, and that by changing that, Alyra risked destroying all of reality. That the new reality was based upon a… a game, from Justin’s world. That Rose’s true fate was to be a fuckdoll, and that she was destroying her world with every second that she refused to admit it.

He had stripped her, and mocked her, and forced her to be a flirt and a cocktease in battle. He had arranged for her to be violently raped by orcs, and showed obvious enjoyment in watching her distress.

She hated him. He was a liar. He had to be. Even if she was inexplicably wet for each fresh violation, and even if she did embarrassingly orgasm from rape.

Alyra was the truth. Alyra would, somehow, stop him. The Golden Sorcereress would save her – if only Rose could be true to herself, and to Alyra’s vision.

Justin would be stopped.

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The axe of the orc warlord Gorgos-Zhul thundered into Justin’s body.

Deep in her heart, Rose wished to see it rend him in two, as it should, leaving him dead.

But instead Justin’s body just flickered. Just one more inexplicable phenomenon that seemed to corroborate Justin’s nonsense story – like the endlessly reappearing woman who Justin had raped so many times on their way to the orc village, or Justin’s ability to instantly strip or dress Rose and Amy.

Or the way that, only moments ago, Justin had whipped the last clothes off the orc’s redhead slave, and then raped her, right there on the battlefield, and they had all just watched him do it – woman and orcs together – pausing their battle until Justin had satisfactorily ejaculated in the struggling woman’s cunt, and then resumed his place in the battle line-up.

Rose couldn’t understand it – and she didn’t truly wish to.

“Fuck,” said Justin now, reacting to the orc warlord’s blow with a note of genuine worry in his voice. “I think I only have one more hit in me.”

Good, thought Rose. If he was defeated, then she could run, and return to defeat this orc warlord with other battlemaidens, at a time of her choosing.

But Justin had other plans.

“Rose,” he commanded. “Invite Rape.”

Rose hated this. She hated the way that she lost control of her body when Justin gave her orders in combat. She was already nude, the orc warlord having struck her twice and sundered her armour. Now she was compelled again to drop her defences, and approach the over-muscled monster.

She shivered inside as she curled her hand around the massive shaft of the orc’s cock. She hated how good it felt in her hand – warm and hard. And she hated how she was guiding it towards her pussy, teasing the orc by letting the tip of his dick brush over her nude shaved cunt-lips, leaving smears of pre-cum on her groin.

She hated how she began to pump his dick, actively masturbating this sub-human monster, and she hated how she was rising on tip-toes to press her bare tits against his chest and kiss him on his ugly green lips. She hated that she was pushing her tongue into his mouth – and permitting the orc’s tongue in her own mouth.

And she hated how it made her cunt wet. And she hated how she wanted to just give in to it, and let the orc use her however he wanted.

Then it was over, and she was returning to her place in the battle line-up.

Now it was Gorgos-Zhul’s turn – and after her cockteasing, he could think of nothing but Rose. He approached her, and swung his axe. Rose tried to block, but he was too powerful, and his axe bit home.

She felt something inside her snap. She had felt it in numerous combats in the village. Justin called it “her resistance being reduced to zero”.

Gorgos-Zhul laughed. One hand curled around her neck, and she began to choke as he lifted her into the air.

She caught a glimpse of Justin’s face, and was confused. For a moment he looked worried – and then his expression changed, and she saw a smile of triumph.

Triumph? Without her, the orc would quickly finish Amy, and then Justin. He was going to lose, surely?

She expected Gorgos-Zhul to either kill her, or fuck her.

But instead he turned, and began to walk away from Justin.

What was he doing?

It soon became clear. He was carrying her to the altar of the shrine.

And suddenly Rose understood what was about to happen.

“No!” she tried to shriek – but it just came out as a choked gurgle.

Gorgos-Zhul laughed – and then threw her towards the altar.

She landed tits-down, ass up, sprawled across the sacred altar to Alyra, the heart of the Shrine of Gloriel, the sacred stone which propagated Alyra’s dream of female equality throughout the bann.

And Gorgos-Zhul stepped up behind her, and grabbed a handful of her hair to control her – and then he sunk his monstrous cock into her wet pussy.

She was being raped. She was being raped by an orc. She, a Battlemaiden of Alyra, was being raped by an orc atop Alyra’s sacred stone.

And it felt so good.

She did scream now, and began to cry. She knew what this would do. She had pretended to not believe Justin, but deep down a part of her knew the truth.

She felt herself bucking against the orc’s cock, pushing it deeper inside her, and she hated herself for it, even though she couldn’t stop. It felt so good. It felt good to be raped. It felt… right.

The orc was laughing, and spanking her ass as he raped her. The other girls and Justin were just watching.

Was this what Justin called a “cutscene”?

And then it was happening. She felt Gorgos-Zhul orgasm, ejaculating a flood of orc seed into her cunt.

And, in response, she felt herself orgasming.

No woman who was innocent and beautiful would orgasm from rape. No woman who deserved rights would orgasm from rape. No true servant of Alyra would orgasm from rape.

She was disgusting. A traitor to her gender. A dirty whore.

Beneath her, there was a mighty, deafening sound of tortured stone – and with a noise like a thunderclap, the altar shattered.

And the world shattered along with it.

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