Fey

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Captive in a strange land, she meets her captors' lust.
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Liana stood leaning over the stone railing above the training field, watching the soldiers spar with each other. They laid waste to little stuffed men, bits of straw flying into the air and catching halos from the morning sun. She watched and envied them their grace, the sheer spare violence of it all. They were beautiful, they were deadly. She wanted to be down there with them.

Rowan watched her watch the men. What was she thinking? He walked up behind her, careful to make enough noise that she wouldn't startle. Laying a hand on her shoulder, he cocked his head and inquired, "What are you thinking?"

Liana turned and looked at him, pale with excitement and blue eyes steely, forcing herself to act like she didn't care if she was being unladylike. "I want to learn that."

He pretended ignorance. "Want to learn what?"

She pointed to the training soldiers below. "That."

Rowan smiled, pleased beyond measure. "That can be arranged. Have you ever done swordplay before?"

She shook her head. "I took kendo for a bit, ninjutsu, and my friends and I played with bokken and shinai, but nothing with a real blade."

The sentence brought a blank look in return.

"Practice swords of rounded oak, a heavy dense wood, and bound slats of another, very very light, wood we call bamboo. Kendo is sword-based combat, and ninjutsu is mostly hand-to-hand, at least what I was taught, although that wasn't much."

He looked relieved.

"Good. You'd be starting out with practice swords anyhow – we don't put live steel in the hands of anyone but experienced soldiers. You knew that though." He paused in thought. "I'll give you to Master Harridan. He's a much better trainer than I could ever be. Come on, we'll get you started now if you want..." Rowan didn't have time to finish the sentence before Liana, elated, had grabbed him by the hand and was dragging him down toward the barracks, coppery curls bouncing behind her. Rowan smiled to himself at the thought of the freckled little woman sparring with his commander, imagining her pointed little chin raised high, jaw set and eyes narrowed.

Watching her as she picked up her wooden sword, he was not disappointed. The sweet curves of her body were like a bowstring held taut, ready to snap into a blur of speed. Even in a skirt and tunic, she kept her balance and even grace as she held her own before the most respected swordsman in Rowan's lands.

Two hours later, Liana found herself sweaty and bruised and loving every wince. They had started her out with something close to her favored shinai, thin slats of something much like maple bound together with sinew and capped with leather. It had one hell of a sting. Every swat she took brought a hiss and a broader smile. They'd partnered her with Rowan's manservant, and she was starting to like him. A lot. And more with every time he got through her guard. It was absurd, but oh well, the man was good with a sword... they danced. Turning and stepping, parry and dodge and advance, she was out of breath and euphoric. He'd gone easy on her, she knew, but her whole body was thrilling with the rush of swordplay. She never wanted to stop. Finally, somewhere her petite size was to her advantage... They kept dueling until their hands were numb, faces frozen in half a smile, half a narrow-eyed fighter's scowl as the evening drew slowly down, late-afternoon sunlight pouring honey over the keep and fields.

After her fighting, Liana found herself flushed and exhausted but euphoric, and she walked back to her room, coasting on a runner's high. She collapsed onto her bed without even undressing and never remembered her head hitting the pillow.

Later, when the night had deepened, a party of men rode into the keep, silent as mice and deadly as merlin. They split silently and crept into the moon-dappled room. They took her by the hair and with one great blow to the side of her head, silenced any protests. The largest of them, the captain, tied her across the saddle of the spare horse they'd brought, her skirt riding up about her waist, legs tied apart in a cruel spread-eagle. They swung up onto their own mounts, and just like that, they were gone, leaving her narrow little bed cooling in the weak moonlight.

In the courtyard, however, there was brighter light. The other division of the band the Unseelie Court had sent had departed at the castle gates, scaling the wall and descending upon the stables, the kitchens, the armory, the homes. They brought flint and steel, they brought torch and pitch, and at the whistle from the men who had taken captive their objective, they set the vitals of Rockwall Keep afire and then vanished into the quickly retreating night.

Dawn broke upon the riders and their captive, still headed for the South and the Court waiting there. More than once the crew had grumbled about a break, about the pace, but their words fell on their captain's deaf ears. Finally, in passing a huge lone elm in the middle of a shorn wheatfield, the leader wheeled his horse and vaulted off. The others skidded to a halt, curiously watching their commander. He smiled broadly, displaying broken, yellowed teeth, and spread his hands wide.

"Gentlemen," he called, "here be your midday's rest. Eat, drink and have merry..." He gestured to the unconscious woman still tied over her horse. "That is, with her." They all gave obscene smiles. "Ye'll not fight over the lass, and ye'll not break her – our lord would be most displeased. Otherwise... have yerselves a grand time, there. We will pitch here for the night." The captain undid her bonds, all except those on her wrists, and slit the laces to her dress in lieu of untying her to pull it off, then retying the ropes. He laid her on the ground and pointedly walked off. Then the soldiers closed in.

Liana floated back to consciousness in a dizzying whirl of pain. A lancing, liquid pain between her legs and the smell of fetid breath on her face made her cringe and writhe against the ropes tying her down. Her mouth was crammed full of something dry, probably cloth – she bit down; yes, cloth – a gag. Her hands were bound behind her back; they were numb, the pain starting at the forearm. She opened her eyes and saw a huge, scruffy brute atop her, thrusting into her and enjoying it heartily. His hands crushed her breasts in a vicious parody of a lover's caress. She tried to scream but the sound was choked off by the gag.

The brute laughed.

The heat in his growling voice reminded her of something. What could it have been? She knew that feeling.

Oh yes. The spiraling, tugging, melting warmth in her belly.

Her eyes flew open wide, shocked. No! Oh shit, this was rape! She shouldn't be – the thought was cut off by a strangled sound in her throat, wrung from her as the soldier thrust deep into her at a different angle, liquefying her spine. She realized in a fog of shame that he was one of the largest men she'd ever seen, and he was... well, he was proportionate... In reality, she was stretched taut around the soldier's thick shaft. She groaned and dug her nails into her palms, railing against the shuddering waves rolling through her body. Her nipples were beaded tightly against her assailant's callused hands – he pinched them and she squeaked. He rolled them between his fingers and she moaned and twitched, muscles in her side contracting and arching her, an obscene joke made of the throes of passion. Then he dipped a hand down between their bodies, using his thumb to stroke her, tease her.

She squeaked and tried to cry out, managing only a string of moans as he deftly stroked her, her body arching and writhing, muscles inside her tensing and tightening. She twisted beneath him, brittle and trembling, eyes shut tight, panting and confused. He slid deeper and deeper into her, the tightness eased by her own silky wetness.

This isn't right! she thought. Then thought ceased and the soldier bent to suckle at her breasts, and the pull of his lips on that tender flesh sent her into another dizzying spiral, throwing her toward climax. It's not fair, she shrieked to herself, he shouldn't know what he's doing! Her words faded into echo and absence of breath and she arched convulsively, throwing her head back, crying out in disgust and rapture. Distantly, she tasted blood.

Above her, the soldier let out a shuddering groan and spilled himself into her with one last desperate lunge. His sweat was slick between their bodies, her neck marred with two reddening bite marks. He lay atop her for too long, then heaved off and closed his braies. He rasped out "Next!" in a thick accent. Liana's eyes widened in horror as the next one approached, a skinny weasely fellow with greasy, stringy hair and crooked fingers. Without preamble, he took her by the ropes and flung her onto her stomach, hitching her up so her bare bottom was exposed to the world. His nails dug into her hips, and with one violent thrust, it all began again. She choked in one more breath and then fell back into the darkness.

She awoke sometime late afternoon with soldiers leering at her. She was lying on her side curled into fetal position, sore in places she didn't know she had. Her insides felt like lead jelly. Between her thighs was a grinding, burning ache. She was slick and sticky and throbbing and horrified at herself.

One of the men laughed. "Round two."

Liana clenched her jaw. Dear god, would it never stop?

They dragged her behind a treestand and lay her on her back in the middle of a circle of them. She was sweating, skin mottled with bruises and bite marks and welts from slaps. She twitched and shook, body still reeling from the assault. She had lost count of the climaxes they had dragged from her traitorous body. She was sloppy and stank of sweat and worse, lying there covered in dirt and grass. She didn't know how many men had had her already, and yet another, the captain this time, was nestled between her legs, thrusting quickly, deeply, evenly into her. She could feel the warmth pooling in her belly, the faint tingling in fingers and toes, all the signals that she would come yet again, and soon. Her nipples beaded tightly at the sensory memory, and she twitched inside, tightening around the unwitting soldier, who thrust even more deeply into her in response.

"No..." The protestations were reflexive now, futile, she knew.

The soldier leaned down over her, shirtless and with his trousers drawn down far enough to do what was necessary, til the hair on his chest tickled and scratched her abused, tender nipples. He breathed into her ear, "No what? You want me to stop?"

"Yes," she moaned weakly.

"No you don't. You love this. Don't you." He drew his nails down her sides, making her arch into him.

"No... no..."

"Don't lie to yourself. I can see how your body reacts. I can feel you writhing under me. You know it feels good, you know you love us fucking you. All of us. You know you love it."

Liana swallowed hard and stayed silent, her eyes filling with tears that rolled hot down the sides of her face and puddled in her ears.

He stopped and withdrew until just the tip of him was inside her, teasing her with fingertips, making her arch and cry out.

"Tell me you want it," he said, loud enough for the men surrounding them to hear. "Tell me you want it and I'll finish you."

She shook her head violently.

He pinched her at that one most sensitive place, drawing a yelp. Then he dipped his hand down between them, wetting it, and stroked her in one long motion, saying, "Tell me you want it."

"No!" she squeaked.

He just repeated the order. Then he laid his mouth on her breast, suckling her like a parody of nursing. He bit and sucked and thrust into her, harder and deeper than she thought she could take. When he pulled on her nipples with lips and teeth, she arched and made a small, high-pitched sound. She twitched inside reflexively and he shoved himself deeper in response. She made another weak little sound. Then he began thrusting hard and fast. That was her undoing. She whispered, "I want it."

"What? I can't hear you."

More loudly, "I want it."

He tweaked the flesh again, grinning. "What do you want? Just tell me and I'll do it for you."

She was completely humiliated. She had to choke out the words, aching and throbbing. "Finish me."

"That's not good enough. You have to tell me how you want me to do it."

"I don't care, just please, please finish me, no more..."

"Ah ah ah." He thrust deep into her, just once, then withdrew again, the tip of him resting at her entrance. She had to fight the urge to bring her hips up to meet him. "Ask nicely, and make me believe you. If it's good enough, I'll bring you, and I'll be the last. Otherwise, I'll finish and leave you hanging, and throw you back to my men. They will do as they wish with you, just like they have been. It's your choice." He paused. "And you have to call yourself a whore. It's only fitting that you should know what you are. You're going to be our whore from now on, you'll be meat for anyone who wants you. You're no better than a common street whore. Tighter though..." He shifted his weight forward, making her twitch.

Images of the men having their way with her scrambled through her mind, and something snapped. She looked up at him... and the trembling spiraled up through her body... she made a soft little noise.

"Little whore." He bit her neck, then slid slowly back into her, touching the neck of her womb. When she arched and moaned aloud, he growled in her ear, "You forgot to tell us all what you are. What are you?"

She moaned, choked on it, hesitating.

"Say it..."

"I'm a whore... I'm your little slut, I'm wet for you and I know you can do me better than anyone else. I want you to fuck me. I want all of you to fuck me." She realized slowly and with a growing horror that the words were true. She didn't want the pleasure to stop... then the captain began to thrust again, his lips busy on her breasts, and her mouth kept going... "Bury your thick cocks inside me, stuff me full, I'm a slut and that's what I want. All of you."

The captain made a sound in his throat and shoved himself painfully deep into her, hitting a spot that made her toes curl and her eyes squint shut. He held himself there, panting roughly, and she felt him pulse, heat splashing inside her.

When he drew away, she felt the length of him slipping out of her, and then scalding, sticky liquid flowing from between her legs along her womanhood to her ass and then the ground. She was raw and tender, legs stretched so that she felt like she was astride a horse... or a man... she trembled and tightened in a little flutter of arousal at the thought. Even violated and debased as she was, she wanted more....

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7 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousabout 13 years ago

Its good.

AnonymousAnonymousover 14 years ago
Hot

Please make a part two. This was really hot.

AnonymousAnonymousover 14 years ago
Made me wet

I loved it. I like your style of writing too, it was different than most of the stories on this site. I can't wait until your next one.

AnonymousAnonymousover 15 years ago
Well Done !!

I enjoyed your stroy. I hope you will comtinue and write more . Please do not let the idiots who are so negative stop you. You got my juices flowwing and I had a very nice orgasm.

AnonymousAnonymousover 17 years ago
Not bad

It's quite good, don't listen to some people who are uncomfortable with nonconsensual sex situations and yet still visit this section. Would like more detail, though

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