A Captor's Mercy Ch. 01

Darkness. Zara could see nothing as she gazed straight ahead of her into the void as one blind. Her body screamed with protest as she held her cramped, contorted position, not moving except to draw long, slow, faint breaths. Cold, murky water seeped through her clothing, making her skin crawl as the stagnant, icy slime clung to her flesh. The stones she lay on were hard and broken jaggedly, pushing painfully against the bones of her back and hips. She had not moved for hours. Flashes of light had invaded her consciousness from time to time as her captors searched wildly for her, but the beam of lanterns had never fallen directly on her. Every time that the rocky walls of her hiding place were illuminated, she held back a shudder, closed her eyes, and imagined that she was just a part of the stones.

She felt as if she lay in her own coffin, the square sides pressing in about her. When she had first been thrown into this prison cell, she had made a thorough search of the barren room. High in one of the walls, about ten feet up, she had discovered a deep cleft where on of the rectangular foundation stones had crumbled and been removed. No one had bothered to replace it, since the wall was still three feet thick where the hole was. Zara had tried to reach the gap for what seemed an interminable amount of time, scrabbling vainly at the damp and slippery rock walls. She didn't know how she had ultimately clawed her way to the cleft, only that she had pulled herself into the opening with shaking limbs and wrenched her body about violently to fit into the shelter of the fissure. They had cursed and searched and shouted when they discovered the empty cell, but they had not found her.

Her limbs began to tremble with chill and exhaustion. At first, she had vaguely thought that she could attack a guard when he came to search again for her, but realistically, she realized that she was too weak. Zara knew that she could not stay here forever, but she could think of no way to get out, unless she was among the ranks of discarded dead. The dungeons of Minostaur were infamous for their security, as well as for the punishments that were meted out there.

A clang echoed down the hallway outside her cell as a door slammed shut. Footsteps marched closer and closer, a faint light flickering into her vision. In an instant, Zara made up her mind. Slithering out of the small aperture, she dropped to the ground. Her legs gave way beneath her and she fell heavily to the hard stone floor. Wincing in pain, she drew a ragged breath and felt about her in the dark. The bobbing glow of a torch was glaring through the few narrow slits in the iron door, and a jangle of keys sounded as the lock was coaxed open. Her fist closed on a loose rock. Diving to one side of the door, she pressed her body close against the cold wall, trying to make herself invisible.

The door swung open and light blinded her dark-accustomed eyes for a moment. Sightlessly, she threw the stone across the room, where it clattered loudly over the sandstone floor. The Atherian standing in the doorway dodged into the cell and held his torch high, searching the shadows of the wall to his right. Seizing this tenuous opportunity, Zara slipped through the open door.

Mercifully, the torch-lit passage was empty. Goading her leaden limbs into a run, she hurried down the corridor to the cover of a stairwell. A door opened at the end of the hallway and another guard entered. Shrinking back into the shadows, she watched as he approached. He seemed to be looking right at the stairwell. Limping, she hastened down the steps, descending into the deepest bowels of the dungeon. The click of a metal-toed boot hitting the stairs sounded behind her. Recklessly, she hurled herself into the large chamber at the bottom of the winding stair. Casting her eyes about wildly, she dove behind a large rack of chains set close to the wall.

Within seconds, the man walked casually into the room. He crossed to the far wall and selected a few strange implements from an array of shelves. Stomach turning, Zara took in the hellish chamber she had stumble into. She did not want to look at it, and she did not want to know what the various objects in the room were for. The man passed by her again, and she listened to his steps fade away.

Closing her eyes, she wracked her brain for a way to escape this nightmare. Her thoughts slipped back to her excruciating days in this pit, her fevered mind vainly attempting to unravel the strangest of occurrences. She had no idea how long she had been held by her enemies; she remembered only pain, and her mind leaving the time and place to save her. All except for one occasion. Almost hallucinating, her mind took her back to those moments.....

She was fighting tooth and nail with three prison guards, her strength pitifully weakened. One man succeeded in tearing her ragged clothes away. Her eyes lit with rage, and for a brief moment, the guards witnessed again the true Aenetian captain. Kneeing one man in the groin, she crushed the instep of another and turned to the guard still holding her clothing. Taking his knees out, she planted one foot in the middle of his spine and snapped his neck with a powerful twist of her arms.

It was more power than she should have had left. Almost fainting on top of the dead man, she was unable to resist as the remaining guards pulled her upright and strapped her roughly to an angled table, yanking her legs apart to tie her ankles down. Once she was secured, they stepped back to stand to attention on either side of the door. Semi-conscious, she wondered what they were waiting for. Then the door opened and a man resplendent in a black and scarlet general's uniform swept in, his long, jet-black hair almost blue in the cold, dim light.

"You may leave," he told the guards quietly, motioning for them to carry away their dead companion as well. He turned his piercing, startlingly azure eyes upon Zara as the door swung shut. Silence filled the room as he regarded her. Slowly, she mustered what alertness she could.

"General Tarsus." Hazel eyes stared back at his, unabashed, proud.

"So, we meet at long last, Captain Zara," he replied.

"Has Aleron grown desperate at last? He finally begins to realize he will get nothing out me?" Zeira asked scornfully. The general removed his satin cape, tossing it to the floor.

"No. He knows that he will or will not. He is not desperate; he is an emperor. As his general, I am the one who should be concerned with you." Carefully, General Tarsus laid his sword aside, followed by his leather gloves and surcoat. "The Emperor trusts that I will do my best. He knows that you are strong." The general ventured too close and Zara spat in his face.

"You speak so high and fair. You disgust me, you pig," she snarled. "I know your business. Your false respect only brings you lower."

He smiled. Planting his feet, he crossed his arms and considered her with steely eyes.

"I know all about you, Captain. And I know all about your people. I will treat you with the respect that you deserve. I have no true control over what happens here to you. These prisons function on their own, and ill fortune falls upon those who attempt to alter its proceedings. If I were to set you free or spare you, I would die the next day. I might be willing," he told her quietly, "yet your cause would die with me."

Utterly baffled, Zara stared at him, mistrust and surprise written on her face. Stepping close, he whispered in her ear.

"Do not ask me to explain myself further. I can save you from this final ordeal—the most terrible. But only if you are willing. I am." Zara made no answer, her eyes thoughtful and far away. General Tarsus removed his boots, then his woolen socks, which Zara noticed looked as if someone had hand knit them for him.

"I love no woman, I have no ties, no doubts," he told her, stripping off his tunic, then his undershirt. "I have little chance of love in my position." His mouth curled bitterly and his leggings fell to the floor. He stood before her, naked. He was younger than she had expected, his skin smooth and bronzed, his face unexpectedly open. Despite herself, her breathing quickened. His body was perfectly muscled, lithe, and beautiful.

"I admire you," he continued, stepping near. "And now that I see you, I do desire you. You are far more lovely than the tales told."

"General—" she started, words failing her.

"At least call me Tarsus. I know that you cannot appreciate this circumstance, though I do my best to improve it for you," he said, true sorrow seemingly in his eyes. She nodded grudging acceptance wordlessly, too proud to admit that she was grateful.

Softly, he bent and kissed her breasts, his hands running lightly up her thighs and over her belly to cup them to his mouth. Her heart began to pound, heat climbing through her body. Lips caressing her shoulders, her hips, the insides of her legs, he watched her breasts rise as she began to pant. He stood between her trembling legs and carefully dipped his cock into her wet folds. She whimpered and he looked quickly to her face.

She wanted him. He gasped as a heady rush of desire burned through him. His ears caught the fall of passing footsteps outside the cell room door. He would have to make her scream so there would be no suspicion. He looked at her for a moment, this fiery beauty bound to the wooden frame before him, her legs splayed as wide as they would go, arms and throat tied with leather thongs, her body arched over the curved plank at her back. He wanted to make her scream with ecstasy.

More roughly now, he gasped her breasts, raked his fingers down her sides. Forcefully, he pressed his lips and tongue between her legs-- sucking, licking, caressing with an intensity that made her shriek. The rose-pink slit between her legs glistened with desire, warming his lips as heat rippled through her body, pearls of sweat trickling down her inner thighs. Rubbing his body over hers, he felt her writhe at the feel of his shaft pressing against her, eyes widening with astonishment at the size of him. He was almost as long as her forearm and thicker than her fist. He felt her become utterly drenched and he moaned softly. Pulling away, he took a deep breath, tormenting her with desire.

"Tarsus, you'd better fuck me now," she whispered raggedly, commanding.

He laughed, reaching between her legs to fondle, his fingers stretching her wide open and taut. He tasted again with his tongue, pressing fiercely, and she screamed, fighting against her leather bonds, arms seeking vainly to clasp him to her. Pulling her lips even wider apart, he sank his cock into her, forcing the full length of him further and further in. Screaming in rapture, she convulsed, her cunt becoming even wetter than before. He stopped halfway in, not moving.

"Do you want more? Do you want me buried all the way in?" he asked roughly.

She cried out wildly, wanting. Swiftly, he pulled all the way out and thrust back in with all his strength. She screamed and screamed as he seemed to fill her entire body, his shaft shoving deeper and deeper. Footsteps still sounded in the hallway.

"You want this, whore?" he roared over her ecstatic cries. "I'll fuck you so hard and so long, you won't know what's happened to you!" Leaning close to her ear, he whispered passionately. "I want to make you come again and again until you faint. I'm going to make you feel so good you'll think you're dying."

He tilted the wooden frame until she was almost upside down. Standing over her, he plunged down into her, thrusting again and again. Slowing his movements, he began to slide his cock inside her dripping cunt little by little, driving her half mad. Suddenly, he rammed in, pulling the entire frame up to meet him, her thighs forced so wide apart, her body lashed so tightly to the wood, stretched out to welcome him in. Violently, he drove his huge cock all the way in up to the very base, impaling her completely. Shrieking with brutal pleasure, she spasmed, trying to thrash within her confines.

In and out he plunged, ramming into her cunt with all his power, forcing his cock in as far as it could go. He thrust with wild strength, overcome with desire and pleasure, both screaming as he jammed his entire length into her over and over again, driving in with vicious force.

The wooden frame pounded against the stone floor as they moved faster, until at last they both climaxed, and went limp, utterly spent.