Blood Ink Ch. 01bybleuangele©
Note – All characters are above 18. This story contains non-consensual acts – please do not read if this offends you. Feedback always welcome.
She struggled futilely against the men holding her down. Knowing their strength exceeded hers didn't stop her one bit from trying to escape. Pain radiated from their grips and she knew bruises would appear soon. Yet, she couldn't submit to them. So she kept at it until the last of strength dwindled and she slumped miserably back against the table. The men kept their iron grip on her though lightened their touch slightly. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying. If she started, she knew her mind would cave and she wouldn't care what happened to her after that. So she bit hard until she pierced the skin and blood trickled down her chin – which got an unexpected reaction to the man at the end of the table.
She stiffened and began to tremble when she saw his head shoot up and turn to look at her. Whimpers escaped from her clenched lips as he walked towards her. She was frozen in fear at the sight of him. An aura of power surrounded him. She knew his role in this even if she didn't recognize his face. He was the greatest threat to her. As he got closer, her fear escalated into full blown terror. She cried out in pain as the men holding her tightened their grips once more. With her eyes squeezed tightly shut, she tried to find a safe place in her mind to escape. A touch against her cheek had her recoiling violently away. She struggled weakly once more to escape. Tears found their way down her cheek as she slumped back upon the table again. She unconsciously bit her lip to keep from begging and pleading with her captors. More blood trickled slowly down her chin and then she felt the oddest sensation. As her mind worked furiously to decipher it, the tears slowed and she willed herself to be still. Recognition shot through her and her eyes bolted open to see a tongue licking the blood off of her. She couldn't struggle as he held her down with a hand over her chest. Her face paled as she saw the lust in his eyes when he pulled away from her. Gratefully, she passed out at that point.
The smell of something foul forced her back into consciousness. Twisting her head to get away, the vial was taken away once she opened her eyes again. He was there once more leaning over her. Terror and panic consumed her once more. Before she could struggle, he looked at her and she cowered. She squeezed her eyes shut as his hand stretched out to stroke her cheek. Slowly, she felt his hand travel lower to caress her neck. Whimpers escaped from her as he kept moving further down to the top of her shirt. When he flicked open the top button, her eyes shot open and she started struggling wildly. Cries filled the room as she couldn't stop the pleas and frantic begging. Visions of rape and torture flitted through her mind. She struggled in vain until she was exhausted. This time, she gave into the tears and sobs that wanted to escape.
She watched through blurry eyes as the hand continued to unbutton her shirt. When they were all undone, his other hand appeared and reverently spread the two halves apart exposing her. A blush infused her features as her naked breasts and belly came into view. No one had seen her body since she reached her maturity – especially no adult males like the ones around her. She tensed and tried to sink into the table as his hands stroked her abdomen tentatively. She turned her head in shame as his hands traveled higher. When he cupped her breasts, she whimpered brokenly and squeezed her eyes shut. Tension eased in her when his hands left even though she was almost completely naked. Her relief was short lived when she felt a hand rest on her lower abdomen. Her breathing escalated and tremors started once more.
She had held on to the hope that she wouldn't be raped as long as her panties remained on. She prayed fervently in her head on that note. Yet despair filled her as his hand moved lower and eased under them to touch her intimately. She winced and cried out when a lone finger penetrated her. Not only was she dry but a virgin which is what he seemed to be verifying. As soon as he felt her barrier, he withdrew his hand from her. Overwhelmed, her eyes rolled back and she fainted dead away.
Kynalei shuddered as the memories of that night slowly faded. Once again, she awakened screaming and thrashing in her small bed. Sweat covered her body and she smelled her own fear and terror. She stumbled to the small bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as possible. Stepping in, she scrubbed at herself harshly trying to erase the past. Tears flowed once more as she looked at the tattoos burned into her skin.
Her blood had flowed for three days and nights. It was what bound the markings and spells to her body and soul. Blood ink – her own life force used against her will to bind her into servitude. Worse than what physically happened was the knowledge that she had caused this to happen. She heard the warnings whispered around her. She knew the stories had truth to them. Yet in the end, she disobeyed and deliberately sought "him" out. She had to – that was what she told them. Some will inside her burned the minute his name was spoken in front of her. She was drawn to him – which was the reason she bore these tattoos.
Just thinking about him caused her markings to flare and pain to burn through her. Her back arched and she gritted her teeth to keep from screaming. She blanked her mind and slowly the markings faded along with the pain. Exhausted from the ordeal, she stumbled out of the shower. She dried off as much as possible and crawled back into bed. She knew the nightmares would return but her body demanded sleep. So she closed her eyes and drifted away.
Wake and attend.
Kynalei opened her eyes as the silent command filtered through her mind. Her body obeyed and she found herself up and in the process of getting dressed. She winced inwardly as the simple translucent shift she was forced to wear slithered over her naked body. She hated how exposed she was in it especially as she was forbidden to wear undergarments. Yet, she knew not to fight the will that forced her into motion. In the beginning, she fought the mental commands but the pain that rebounded through her, and the punishment of her master Lord for her disobedience, crippled her willfulness and rebellious attitude. But, in the secret recesses of her mind, she wished it was different. Every moment of every day she wished her life was her own. Instead, she was bound to serve. She tried to accept the fact as much as she was able to mainly to avoid pain. With a hint of resolve, she pushed these traitorous feelings and thoughts aside. She quickly brushed the tangles out of her long wavy tresses and slipped her feet into the simple suede sandals she was allowed to wear indoors. With a final deep breath, she left her room.
Silently, she walked quickly through the meandering corridors and twisting stairways to the main floor. She went through the main hall and stopped in front of the towering double oak doors at the end. The elder guard on duty acknowledged her presence with a quick appraising look and then pushed one of the doors open to admit her. She was grateful he didn't openly ogle her and hold her up like the younger guards usually did. A small shudder coursed through her at the memory but she made herself forget about it. Striding quickly yet with elegance past the men seated at the long tables, she took the same route she always did near the far wall of the room. She knew not to look at anyone so she kept her eyes downcast and her face shielded behind the curtain of her beautiful shimmering locks. She blushed at the raucous comments and whistles from the men she passed. Embarrassment flooded her at the unwelcome attention which she knew stemmed from her scanty attire. She should be used to this by now yet it still bothered her. Even so, she continued on her way. She stopped at the head table and knelt gracefully next to the large man seated there. She bowed her head and placed her hands in her lap. Then, she waited.
Lord Damian noted Kynalei's entrance. Even after all these months of having her contract, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. Even the markings she carried and the air of pain and sadness that surrounded her, highlighted instead of detracted from it. He wasn't surprised that the men commented on it every time they saw her. Of course, the dress code he dictated probably helped to elicit their attention but he was a man after all and it was in his power to dress her as he pleased.
She was just so different from the other women around. Granted, part of it was due to the fact that she was a slave and the only one he allowed under his roof. The other women were servants who came and left as they pleased and lived in their own homes. Though looking at her, he knew she would still stand out no matter what her station in life was – which drove his unrelenting desire for her. If only she was bound after losing her virginity. By being bound before, he was unable to physically have her. No man could touch her sexually – which was another reason the men lusted her and why he was continually entranced by her. Of course, he never showed that side of himself, but he watched her. Even now, as she knelt by his side, he glanced inconspicuously at her more than once. Just looking at her, he remembered how she came to be his slave.
Lord Ashe greeted his friend Lord Damian as custom dictated and then with a hearty hug. They had been friends since childhood and he was pleased to be spending some time with him. Even though he was there for official reasons, it was still good to be here. He saw the questioning arch of Damian's brow at the Mage Representatives in his party and nodded simply in response. It was a reminder to both men that Ashe was here on business. With that in mind, Ashe waited for him to speak.
"My house is at your disposal, Lord Ashe. Quarters are prepared for all of you," Lord Damian spoke respectfully.
"Thank you, Lord Damian," Lord Ashe started, but was cut off quickly by the other members of his party.
"My Lords…," a sibilant hiss came whispering from under the hood of one of the Mage Representatives. Both Lords turned to look at the one who spoke. With their attention newly focused, the mages turned to each other and gestured. Magic thickened the air around them and as they widened the distance between the two, a shimmering figure appeared in the air between them.
Lord Damian gasped and then grabbed Lord Ashe angrily. "What is the meaning of this?!?!" he demanded. Anger filled him at the sight of the slave and the magic that had been used in his home. At the shocked look on his friend's face, he dropped his hand and swore. "Come to my study," he said as he took another look at the scene in front of him and walked away.
As he guided them away from the main entrance of the hall, he felt magic being used again. He cursed again as he hoped it was to hide the slave that was shown to him. He nodded absently to the guards at the door to his private sanctum and they quickly opened it to admit them all. After everyone was situated and the doors began to close, he called out not to be disturbed and settled into the chair behind his desk. Then, he waited.
Lord Ashe reached out and took the missive from one of the mages. Without a word, he laid it gently on Lord Damian's desk with the seal face up. He winced at his friend's reaction but then he kind of expected it. Who eagerly seeks out the company of the Mage Guild, he thought to himself. Yet, protocol dictated their acceptance and obedience. He was surprised though when Damian didn't move to open the missive. Instead, he looked up at him and then to the mages.
"We know of your reluctance, Lord Damian," the mage hissed softly again.
"It is why she must be held here," the other whispered.
"Has he commanded it?" Lord Damian asked knowingly.
"Yes… You are known to us," the mage said as he gestured to his friend Lord Ashe.
Lord Damian swiveled around and faced the window away from them. He knew the moment his friend had sent him word that he would be asked this. For years, he tried to hide away from the Guild. As a Lord of the Land, he knew ties that bound them all. He knew the power he held and the responsibility he had for those under him and to those over him. Magic colored everything in shades of gray which is why he never allowed it in his home. He carried out his duties with respect for every person and never sought out additional power. It is why so many hold me in high regards, he thought glumly. His friend Lord Ashe was not to blame for this though he was sure it was him that verified his behavior to the Guild. With a heavy heart, he turned back to them.
"I keep no slaves," he stated firmly to them.
Magic filled the air once more and she reappeared before them. As she hovered in the air between them, the mage began to talk. "You will keep this one. She is bound already. She is untouched and will remain so. Any attempt to do so will bring pain upon her. She is yours to command otherwise," he finished with a gesture to the one they spoke of.
Lord Damian broke the seal on the missive with the knowledge that he had no choice really. He read the quick note and laid his palm on it. A tingle of warmth acknowledged his acceptance and the missive vanished. He turned to his friend once more.
"She will need to be bound to you," Lord Ashe stated. He was to witness the act and then escort the mages back to the Guild. It was his duty as he had been told to set everything up. The only acknowledgement he got from his friend was a curt nod as he stood up. Ashe hoped he would still have a friend after this.
As Lord Damian passed his friend, he reached over and squeezed his arm to reassure him that he didn't blame him for what was about to happen. A grateful smile quickly flashed on his friend's face and he felt better. With a stoic face and an air of resolve around him, Lord Damian stood in front of the mages and submitted to them. Magic churned around the room as they bound the slave to her master. When the rite was finished, he knew the why behind it all.
"She will fight me," he stated softly.
"Yes," the mage whispered.
Lord Damian understood everything that encompassed that one word. As he laid his slave on the couch, he covered her up and commanded her to sleep until his return. A troubled look took over his face as he escorted Lord Ashe and the mages to their rooms. He would see them off in the morning. And then, he knew, with crystal clear clarity, trouble was coming for all of them – especially her.
Lord Damian was jolted back to the present as the sounds and smells of food came wafting towards him. The men quieted down as servants came and set the morning meal on the tables in front of them. When everything was set, they looked as one to the head table. With a swift nod, Lord Damian reached for a loaf of bread from in front of his plate. He broke it in half. With this signal, the men began to help themselves to the delicious bounty prepared for them. He placed half of his bread on his plate and the other next to it. Without a word, he deliberately looked down at Kynalei kneeling next to him.
She graciously got to her feet and moved to serve him his meal. It was part of her duties, so she knew what he liked and how much to put on his plate. Afterwards, she poured his favorite wine as the finishing touch. She returned the wine to the ice bucket a few feet next to him and stepped back to his side. He leaned forward and began to eat. She refilled his plate and wine when needed. When he was done, he pushed his plate away and picked up the bread still next to it.
Are you hungry, pet?
Kynalei stiffened as his words were whispered in her head. He had no need to speak to her out loud so he usually didn't. His mental conversations were better than the images he sent her sometimes. She feared him even though he wasn't physically abusive to her. She feared the hold he had on her. She feared the desires she sensed in him. She feared the things he wanted to do to her. She relaxed when she realized he only wanted a song for now.
She walked to the shelf in the corner and picked up her lute. With a loving caress, she delicately strummed and tuned it. The men quieted down as they shushed each other after catching the soft notes from her lute. Lord Damian pushed his chair away from the table when she turned to walk back to him. At his silent command, she settled into his lap. His arms wrapped around her waist which caused her to stiffen up again. With deep breaths, she forced herself to ignore his presence. She began to strum the lute while picking a tune from her memory. After a moment, she began to sing.
Her voice soared throughout the room and even the few servants around stopped to listen. It was rare for her to sing to them, but when she did, it was pure magic. There were no words to describe the beauty of her voice. And as she sang, all the worries and cares the men had melted away. Their hearts lightened and their souls healed. Lord Damian was touched by her too. A smile graced his rough features and he leaned back in his chair and relaxed for awhile. When her song ended, and the last notes of her lute faded, the men applauded. Lord Damian sat up and whispered in her ear "Well done, pet. Well done."
She blushed in response and when he released her, she gracefully curtsied to the men and returned her lute to its resting place. Upon her return to Lord Damian's side, she knelt once more and he handed her the bread. She ate her meal as the men returned to theirs and began talks of business.
He dreamed of his love once more. She was a fountain of youth and beauty shimmering with powerful magic. Together they would heal the world again and bring light to those lost in the dark. He never saw her face in her dreams, but her soul called to him. As he dreamed, he wanted to never wake so he would always be here with her. She was everything he wanted and needed and since he started dreaming of her, he felt incomplete without her. She fit in his arms as if she was meant to always be there. He dreamed of making love to her and mating with her as was his custom. Those dreams were the hardest as he physically ached when he awoke without her. Only the decades of tempering his emotions and moods kept him sane when that happened. Yet, as angered as he was of not having her, he couldn't help but be excited when he laid down to rest. If only for a moment in time, he knew peace and happiness in his beloved's arms. As he woke once more, he thought of his mother surprisingly.
"You must find her, my son," she said to him before passing. As the years rolled by, her words continued to haunt him. He still searched for the one his mother had spoken of. Some days he despaired of finding her. But he knew if he didn't then their race would die. He was the last of their kind. The world around him believed they had died out eons ago. But the seers of their race knew what the future held so they bade the elders to command their slow disappearance from it. As the centuries passed, the other races forgot about them and the few stories of their kind melted into fairy tales and legends. It was a blessing for their kind, but also a curse. Isolated from the world and each other, they faded. One by one, they stopped bearing young and passed on. And now he was all that remained. There were centuries still remaining in his long life, but despair and utter loneliness had him wishing otherwise. Only the vow he made and the yearning for the one his mother begged him to find kept him going most days … the one that was bound by blood with a tattoo of him – a dragon.