clatters to the floor. A gentle golden light envelopes the slave as she clutches her hand to her chest.

The first mate snorts and nudges the cum-splattered slave on the floor with his foot. "What is that,

healing magic?"

The slave, perfectly submissive, does not look up when she answers. "Yes, master."

"What were you before, some sort of healer?"

"No."

The sudden note of defiance in her voice makes the orc frown. Clearly, this one needs another beating.

When he glances again at the slave's hands, the yellow light has taken on a purple hue.

"I'm more of a conjurer, actually." The ice in her voice snaps him fully out of his post-coital haze. 

"Have you met Bonehead?"

A presence behind him announces itself with a deeply unnatural chittering growl from the depths of

Oblivion itself.

"Woman, wait-" was all he had time to say, before something savage and sharp, so sharp, swipes at

his face, eviscerating his throat and detaching his jaw from his body.

Captured, naked and bound within the bowels of the Dainty Sload as a pirate prize, things seemed hopeless for our intrepid heroine. The pirates made the mistake of underestimating her and let her out of her restraints. For that a bloody whirlwind was reaped.

Uraccen claims his toll. This slut reminds him of his daughter, somehow. He doesn't know how quite to feel about that.
 

Duach plows the new whore in exchange for some skooma, or so he tells her. The only thing she gets out of this is a sore cunt and a bitter lesson about leverage.

Grisvar the Unlucky feels a little sorry for the new meat, but not enough to refrain from plundering her tight asshole.

Refusing the advances of Madanach was an unwise bit of defiance. Blindfolded, naked and without the protection of the King in Rags, our heroine is powerless to resist the predations of any prisoner who might want a piece of her.