The Misty Forest of Profane Beasts and Sacred Springs:
Many men and maidens have entered into this forest throughout history. Few indeed have exited, and none of left unchanged.
Rumors abound of the healing properties of many of the mineral springs, bringing heat and magic up from the very heart of the Earthmother. Some, they say, can heal any wound, or any crippling condition, or restore purity to the ravished, or even life to the bodiless undead.
Many wander this heavenly hell on their own, maiden and monster alike, but to those who whisper prayers to bardic gods dreams of poetry guide their steps, from ordeal to ordeal, deeper, ever deeper into the forest, ever into the armies of more horific creatures, each one having his way with her in it's own unique and vile manner, each one leaving her chaged forever, stronger and more beautiful than ever before.
Finall, her heart stops in climactic ecstasy under the assault of a million amorous beasts, but the ordeal is not yet ended. Her spirit wanders the forest, seeking escape, release, relief. Death grants none, and when her very soul has been ravished, she bathes in a spring that restores her to life, virginal again, beautiful beyond all imagining, fresh and young.
Now, she wanders the vast, dark, and ancient heart of the forest where no mear monsters dare tread, for this is the domain of the elemental gods, and to steal a maidenhead from one such would be to invite a fate far worse than death.
In the end, the elemental gods come to the maiden. If she opens her arms to them, their love is as tender and beautiful as it is primal. If she tries to deny them, they violate her and make her theres. The effect is the same...
Apophesis. Having passed through life into death and into life again, having survived inumerable trials, and at last the embrace of the gods themselves, the maiden can do naught but become a goddess herself. If her heart is pure and kind, and her ordeals have insilled in her empathy for the suffering of others, she becomes a fare and beautiful goddess sure to ascend high in the courts of heaven.
If her pain has twisted her heart into the slave or the equal of that which abused her, she can do naught but become the reflection of that which is in her heart. A monster, either conquered god-slave of a monster-king, or a queen of the depraved beasts in her own right if her hatred did not falter.