Crusade Gone Awry Ch. 09

This story is a work of fiction. Any connection to real events or people, past or present, is coincidental. All characters of this story are age 18 or older.

This chapter contains: BBW, chubby, creampie, impregnation, reverse gangbang, drugs, doggy style, cowgirl, standing sex, anonymous sex, oral.

Also contains a little blood and gore.

****

Sam Ageril was in an immense amount of pain. He didn't know where he was, or how he got there, just that his whole body hurt. He peeled his eyes open, but still only saw blackness. He tried to move, but instantly felt bolts of pain across his body. He cried out in agony, wishing he were dead.

Then he felt hands on his body. There was a sliver of light from what appeared to be the flaps of a tent. It was so dark that he could only see the outlines of the people around him. There were two of them. They appeared to be female from their shape, and they were wearing something over their faces, likely masks. The only other thing he noticed was that they were curvier and plumper than most women he had seen.

"Wh-where am...?" Sam attempted to say, but his throat was too dry. He immediately coughed and stabs of pain went across his chest. Two hands came to his face, stroking him. The other woman ran her hands across his chest, feeling along a very painful area. That was when Sam remembered.

Those things from underground attacked them. He had heard that foxman Renard shouting about them, the assassin weevils. During the attack Sam managed to injure some, and then one attacked him from above. The tendril poked through the neck opening of his armor, cutting a huge gash across his chest. It then flung him around hard, trying to get him off. It ran and bucked across the sands so hard that he lost consciousness. There was no telling how long it took that thing to finally throw him off. These people, whoever they were, must have found him.

Sam attempted to speak again, but a finger came to his lips. The woman shushed him gently. The one checking his chest finished, finding all of his stitches still closed. She then brought something to his face. It appeared to be a waterskin with a horn on it. Sam gawked at it, confused. He then saw that there was a hole on the end of the horn. It was a funnel, likely to prevent spilling. Sam was too thirsty to care. He drank the water gratefully, soothing his raw throat. It was only after the fourth gulp that Sam realized it wasn't just water. There was a peculiar taste to it. By the time he pulled his head away it was already too late, and he had been dosed. His consciousness began to blur and fade. He fell back into a deep sleep.

*

Most people thought Sam was some hardcore warrior who never talked because of how focused he was. The truth was that he just didn't have much to say. Sam had been born on the streets to a mother who was batshit crazy. He never knew who his father was, and truth be told his mother probably didn't either. His mother often ran through the streets screaming, believing that dogs were trying to steal the bones from inside her body. She heard voices in her head, and often simply forgot he existed. He survived, however. He went from street urchin, to gang member, to mercenary. He never needed anyone or anything his whole life. Then one day his mercenary company was hired to defend a castle on the frontier. It was a half-ruined fortress guarding some yokel villages. It was an easy assignment, or so his company thought.

There were these people that lived past the mountains on the frontier. They were called the Kazgars. They had slanted eyes, bronze skin, and practically lived on the backs of horses. They had always raided the kingdom, attacking poor peasants and selling the women into slavery. Around the time that Sam arrived at that ruined castle, a powerful lord of the Kazgar invaded. Suddenly there was an army at the gates of that ruined castle, and Sam's company was trapped.

The siege went on for weeks, and the mercenaries died in scores. Sam, however, was a survivor. He knew when to fight and when to flee. While all of his comrades died, he continued to fight and stand his ground. Ultimately, he was the last one alive, holding a door closed while the barbarians attempted to beat it down. He had been beaten, stabbed, and was starving. He knew this was the end and cursed his insane mother for having him. Then they were gone. The armies of the kingdom had arrived, and the Kazgars fled. Sam was the only survivor, and he was in bad shape. The army put him up in one of the peasant hovels, had someone care for him, and continued their pursuit of the Kazgars. Sam's wounds, however, quickly became inflamed and necrotic. He had survived so much, and it was infection that would kill him.

*

Sam woke up again, his mind still swimming from the drugs they gave him. He heard two voices whispering to each other. It was a language he didn't recognize, and it sounded almost like trilling or squeaking. He peeled his eyes open and tried to see. His body felt weak, unable to lift even a finger. One of the women came up to his face and began stroking it again, soothing him. The other began undoing his pants.

Sam wanted to say something, to ask them what they were doing, but he could only lay there. He could feel something stroking his dick, getting it up. This was followed by something wet and soft caressing it, making sure it was hard. He was so out of it that he couldn't even enjoy it. It was just a natural response. The moment he was fully up, the woman at his crotch brought her body over him. She sank herself onto his dick, enveloping him in warmth. Sam grunted and fidgeted. He was feeling small spikes of pleasure. He knew there was a woman bouncing on top of him, but he couldn't even see her in the dark.

Abruptly, the woman on top of him came down a little too hard. Maybe she slipped, or maybe she just wanted to get this done faster. All the same, his whole body jerked. There was a stomach-churning ripping before blinding pain went across Sam's chest. He yelled at the top of his lungs, briefly finding his voice. His wound had cruelly opened again. Both of the women froze, clearly shocked and terrified. After a few moments, light filled the room. Someone had pulled the flaps of the tent open and stormed inside. Another woman had entered. She was bigger than the other two, as well as larger, rounder. She instantly saw that one of them was on top of him. She stomped over to them, seized their arms, and hauled them up and out of the room. Sam was left groaning in pain, still paralyzed by the drugs. All he could hear was inhuman shrieking from outside. He couldn't figure out what was happening, only feel the pain.

When his senses returned, someone was stitching his chest back up. It was painful, and he groaned all the way through it. There was only one woman now. Unlike the others, she was thin and small, almost frail looking. She finished fixing his chest and began to bandage it. Sam tried to lift his head.

"Please..." he croaked. "Where...am I? What...what is...?" The woman reached up touched his face. Unlike the last ones, she was far gentler. It didn't feel like he was being restrained. There was love in her caresses.. She shushed him quietly before beginning to hum. It was a soft and soothing song. He then felt the horn on his lips again. Sam tried to resist. He didn't want to sleep anymore. He didn't want to dream. They were taking him to his past, to his pain. He wasn't strong enough, however. The horn went in his mouth and the tainted water flooded in. He could either drown or swallow it, so he gulped it down. The new woman continued to hum and lovingly caress him until he fell asleep. The next few times he woke up, he smelled something rotting, and he knew it was his wound. He had a wound infection, again.

*

After surviving the siege at the castle, the kingdom's army left him behind with a peasant woman to take care of him. She was a small young woman, thin and almost frail looking. She closed and bandaged his wounds, but some of them had been open for days. They quickly became infected. Sam had never been so sick in his entire life. He couldn't eat, he couldn't drink, all he could do was shiver and moan. The woman never left his side. She fed him, bathed him, and even cleaned up after him. Sam felt pathetic, like an infant who couldn't care for himself. The woman never complained, never treated him unkindly, and only kept telling him to fight and get better.

One day he woke up, shivering and sweating. He was coughing and struggling to breathe. The infection was in his blood, practically a death sentence. He had never seen someone get better from this. The woman never gave up. She did everything she could to keep him alive. She never stopped cleaning his wounds or forcing him to eat and drink. As he shivered hopelessly, she crawled into bed with him, practically naked. She held her body against him, trying to keep him warm. She whispered things in his ear, trying to keep his spirits up. In his delirious state, he managed to ask her name. She said it quietly in his ear, like a promise that he wouldn't die on her.

*

"Masha..." Sam cried weakly. He was shivering and sweating, both hot and cold. He could smell the terrible scent of his own flesh rotting. His mind swam, both because of the drugs and his illness. He fidgeted and groan, as if trying to escape. He could feel someone wrap their body around him. It was a woman, small and thin. He could feel the skin of her face against his head, no longer wearing a mask. He was too delirious to look. All he knew was that he was in the dark. Was he in a tent, or was he in that peasant house? Was the woman holding him Masha, or was it these masked women? He didn't know anymore.

"Masha..." Sam groaned. "Masha...Masha!"

"Shhhh," the woman cooed in his ear. "Masha. Shhhh, Masha." She was saying the name like it was a word one said to soothe a baby. She repeated it along with him, as if trying to share his pain. They repeated the word back and forth, until Sam fell back into fitful sleep.

*

Back in that peasant house, Sam miraculously got better. Masha continued to care for him, and the more he recovered the happier she became. Sam had never had someone treat him so well before, not even his crazy mother. It was the first time he had felt such a gentle touch, or such warm feelings. Eventually, he was able to sit up in bed. It was then that he began to talk to Masha.

She was a sweet girl, who had spent her days weaving and taking care of her grandparents. She had these bright green eyes that seemed to glow. Her parents had died when she was young, and she hadn't considered marriage because there would be no one to properly care for her grandfather. She had led a peaceful, grounded life. It was the opposite of the life Sam had. He began to feel strange about her over time. He had never stopped moving in his life. He had never rested, never just taken a moment. He was always going, whether it was to steal food to eat, fight rival gangs for streets, or hopping around the country to earn money. He had never just allowed himself to settle, to just be. Masha was...something soft, something gentle. Sam had been with plenty of women, but none like her. She made him feel warm on the inside. She would sit at his bedside, reading, talking, and humming. It was a strange experience for Sam. It was almost like they were married. He suddenly found the idea...appealing.

*

Sam swam up from the darkness, his consciousness crawling back. His chest was hurting again. With great effort, he managed to peel his eyes open. Masha was over him...or not? Everything was dark, and his mind was more muddled than ever before. Whoever it was, they were trying to clean the necrotic flesh from his wound. It was nasty work. She did it without hesitation. She seemed to have noticed that he was conscious. She reached towards his face with her free hand, already shushing.

Somehow, Sam lifted his arm and grabbed her hand. The girl flinched, completely shocked. Sam squeezed as tightly as he could manage.

"Masha..." he groaned. "I'm so sorry. Please!" Seeing how pitiful he was, the woman clearly felt sympathetic. She laced her fingers through his, her other hand stroking his face.

"Masha," the woman said.

"I'm sorry," Sam said in his delirium. "I shouldn't have given up. I should have found you. Please forgive me! I...I..." For the first time in his life, he began to cry. He was reliving the biggest regret of his life, repeatedly. The woman shuffled over to him, wrapping her arms around him. She hummed and stroked his auburn hair. He continued muttering and blubbering for quite some time. In his dreams he found no rest.

*

One day, Masha came thundering into her house. She slammed the door open and sprinted into the interior. She ran over to Sam's bed and, without a word, crawled into it. She wrapped him in a tight embrace. Sam sat there stunned as she sobbed against his chest. No woman had ever done something like this with him. The only ones he had any experience with were the roughnecks in the company or prostitutes. Masha was coming to him for comfort, something he had never given before.

He wrapped his arms around her and cradled her. He stroked her hair and whispered nice things in his ear. It made him feel warm and soft inside. Masha continued to cry for some time, only reducing to sniffles after a lot of coaxing. Sam finally asked her what was wrong. Her grandfather had died. He just fell over during his breakfast, dying before he hit the ground. Masha had kept it together the entire day. They hauled his body away, and everyone came over to offer their condolences. When she reached Sam's house, she finally broke. Knowing that Sam was a great warrior who had defended the castle to the last man. He was strong enough to protect and comfort her. Her words made Sam's heart pound, almost painfully hard. Her head was against his chest, so she must have heard it. She turned her head up towards his.

Their eyes locked, her green eyes still swimming with tears. For a moment, the entire world ground to a halt. She then leaned up and pressed her lips against his. They held each other and kissed like lovers, bringing joy. Sam never wanted to let go of her, his precious Masha.

*

In the darkness, the woman holding Sam flinched and went a little stiff. Sam had wrapped his arms around her. He mashed his lips against hers. For a few moments, the woman didn't move. Despite being delirious, Sam was holding her desperately, tightly. His kiss was so tender, so loving. The woman then relaxed and wrapped her own arms around his neck. Their tongues swam together for a few moments, quickly becoming hot. Sam began fumbling with her clothes, trying to pull them off.

Abruptly, the woman pulled away from him. She pushed him away, taking his hands from her clothes.

"No," she said gently. "No."

"Please..." Sam begged. "Please be with me Masha. I'm sorry for what happened. Please..."

The woman shushed him and cradled his head against her chest. She rocked him back and forth, as one would a distraught child. Sam clung to her desperately, still crying as his brain roasted in the fever. The only thing he knew was that he was being comforted, and for the first time in his life, he felt loved.

*

Sam had begun contemplating giving up his life as a mercenary to settle here and farm. That was how much he cared for Masha. Then the fateful day came. In the months he spent recovering, the army of the kingdom had been chasing the Kazgars in circles. The Kazgars were horse people, and were always ahead of the armored knights. What Sam didn't realize was how close the village was to the frontier. The Kazgars had looped back around to return to their homelands. They were raiding villages on the way, including Masha's. This time, there was no mercenary company to draw them away from the peasants.

Masha came into the house, slamming the door behind her. Her eyes were wide and full of terror. She told Sam that the Kazgars were back. The kingdom's army was on their trail, but the raiders had enough time to take the villagers as captives. The peasants were going to be slaves. They were going from house to house...and if they found Sam...

Sam tried to get to his feet, but he stumbled and crumpled to the ground. His entire body was weak from disuse, and his wounds were painful. He tried to crawl over to his weapons. Masha stood at the door, watching him struggle. The Kazgars would come inside and kill him. Sam looked up at Masha and saw her eyes. Ever since they began spending time together, he had only seen a gentle softness in her gaze. Now, however, there was something determined, something strong. The sound of hoofbeats echoed from outside. Masha tightened her fists and stared down at Sam on the floor.

"Live, Sam," she said, like an order.

*

"Live," said the woman in his ear. Sam's head swam between the two places. "Masha. Live." It was like she was giving him an order.

*

"You are going to stay alive," Masha ordered. "I'll be fine. I love you." The woman he loved turned, opened the door, and slammed it behind her. Sam shouted after her, struggling still to get to his feet. He stumbled and crawled to the entrance. It took him several minutes. By the time he collapsed outside of the house, not even the dust from the horses remained. She had given herself to the Kazgars, so he could live.

Even after Masha gave herself up, Sam refused accept it. Exhausted and half-dead, he struggled for days to get around. Once the Kazgars got through the mountain pass and entered the plains, there was no way to get her back. No one ever returned from there, to enter would be suicide. Sam kept himself going by saying all he needed was a horse. It took a few days, but he managed to find one and set out. He pushed the poor animal for days without a single moment of rest, going towards the pass at a madman's pace.

Finally, he stood at the edge of the mountains, gazing out at the endless grassland beyond. His eyes were as hollow as he was felt inside. The Kazgar army had camped at the pass but had clearly moved on. They had entered the plains, maybe as soon as a day ago. Still, they were beyond the kingdom, beyond the reach of everyone. Sam stood there, just staring for hours. They had Masha, and they were out on the plains. He had to save her...but he couldn't. To go into the plains was madness. They killed foreign men on sight out there. They only took the women.

Sam's guts twisted in terrible knots. Masha would be their slave. They would pass her around camp, like she was a commodity. They would use her like an object repeatedly, until she likely died of disease or abuse. His sweet, soft Masha destroyed and violated until she died. He had to ride out into those plains. He had to rescue her.

He couldn't. He couldn't ride to his death. He wanted to, but something inside stopped him. He couldn't step out onto the plains. He was afraid of dying, and he would be disobeying her last words. He then made the worst decision of his life. He turned around and marched back to his kingdom. He left Masha to her terrible fate; one she didn't deserve. From that day forward, he rarely, if ever, spoke. He had nothing to say.

What he had done hollowed him out and left him dead inside. He needed guidance and absolution for what he did so he joined the church, but he found neither. They spoke a lot about the will of the goddess, of her never-ending beauty and mercy, but it never gave him any peace of mind. He just existed, from day to day. He killed who they wanted, he went where they wanted, and he did what they wanted. When they announced the crusade and the potential for the forgiveness of sins, he signed up. He didn't do it for their forgiveness. No amount of the church's forgiveness could undo his cowardice, Masha's fate, or the desolation in his soul. He did it because not a single crusade had been successful, and it was perfect way to finally make it all stop.