Daughter of Ziva Ch. 02

He was silent as she gasped. Sienna's hands were tied to the top of the trunk, so her shoulders and head were lifted and rested against the wood. She was partially sitting up, off balance, and still lower than him so she had to look up at him. With his back to the light, she could barely see him. She noticed the light practically put her on display, flickering over her face and body.

He had spread his legs so they were in a V and folded his calves beneath him, so he sat on his feet. Her thighs rested on his, their most private places pushed together. Her lungs were having a hard time remembering their purpose as his shaft sat nestled between her lips. The heat of him was incredibly disconcerting.

With his thighs lifting her legs and butt, all the give her feet had was lost. Her mid-back held most of her weight, keeping her uncomfortable. If she hadn't been kicked by that horse she could have bucked, but that was a near impossibility. His right hand rested heavily in the crook between her hip and her thigh, his thumb putting pressure a small movement away from her nether lips. Everything from his hand placement to how he had positioned her told her he was dominating her. She would have no choices here.

"What is your name?"

She was still reeling in pain and that gave her a pause from responding irrationally. All Sienna wanted to do was scream at him to get his filthy hands off of her, but the memory of him choking her was still too fresh. The injustice of how he was handling her, how he was seeing fit to put her however he pleased, grated her in the deepest parts of her person. She had never been touched without her wanting it.

In her village, everyone was taught to respect bodily integrity above all else. Even when people fought it was done with consent. Getting caught putting your hands on another person without their permission got your fingers broken, and that meant you would have crooked fingers for the rest of your life. She had only seen it once, but the women who bore the mangled hand was kept at a distance by the rest of the village. Sienna was struggling to accept that this man would be handling her however he pleased, fighting the rational voice that said it would be best if she overcame her outrage as soon as possible.

He had the knife in his left hand, and she had the thought that she didn't need to have all of her extremities to have babies for him. Sienna knew she could tell him her name, but as the shadows that were his eyes dug into her, she had a feeling he would be asking her much more than that. Whether that was tonight or another day, it didn't matter. She was one of the first captives of the Gavali and this Voivode man would be using her to figure out as much about her fleeing people as he could. Yasim wouldn't be giving anything away, so Sienna knew if they found anything out it would be from her lips. It was important she remained strong for as long as possible so her people had time to escape.

She wiggled her fingers and toes just in case she was feeling them for the last time and set her jaw. Her fear quickened her breaths, but whatever he was intending to do he would do anyway.

He watched her for a few moments before bringing the knife towards her crotch. Sienna tried to pull herself away from the knife as it slipped under her waistband. He paused there, the cold steel of the knife lying only one layer away from her slit.

Dear Mother.

Fear stole any control she had on her breath. She bit back a whimper as she panted, horrified by what the position of the knife implied. He was going to stick the knife in her channel.

"What is your name?"

Was it worth it? Getting fucked by a knife because she didn't want to tell him her name?

Calm down, she thought. Think. Her thoughts ran amok, thinking of all the lives he had taken with that same knife, but one rational question slipped through to the forefront. Can you give birth if he cuts you up?

Her responses to that were incredibly inventive, leading to all the ways he could slice her insides and still procreate, but she remained silent. He wouldn't really do it, would he? Could she take that chance? Her jaw shifted. After her name would be a demand to know where her people were heading, and she would not be the reason her men were killed and her women were enslaved. She wanted to open her mouth and curse him back to the seas he had come from, but she was terrified the moment she opened her mouth she would tell him everything he wanted to know and more.

Whatever he wants to do, he will do eventually.

A rock settled in her throat and she bit her tongue, her breath dragging loudly, as she waited for him to make his move.

Her face was an open book, no matter how hard she clenched her jaw. What Rorik saw there left him extraordinarily curious. She thought he was going to fuck her with his knife. He had put the knife there, his other handed gripping the fabric of her pants, to show her he was going to cut her pants off. This girl had completely skipped over that, assuming she was now being held captive by a man who would rape her with a hunting knife.

Exactly what had her elders passed down about the Gavali? He didn't doubt much of it was spot on, but there had to be additions if a woman thought one of the Gavali men would damage the only thing he truly needed her for.

Was it her name that was so important to her that had her risk it? Or was it her pride? Though he had come in the tent with the intention of stripping her and getting her name, Rorik found himself considering pushing her. If he put the tip of the knife at her opening, would she crack then? How far would she go? She was clearly terrified, but yet still kept her mouth shut. Complete silence was not what he had expected of the mouthy wildcat he had subdued in the village.

Rorik slashed the knife towards his hip, watching her jerk and gasp in front of him. Her eyes rolled in terror, giving him a good preview of what she would look like as she came apart. He felt himself growing hard and pressed it against her. Fear was important when controlling women, but he had intentions of controlling her in a more intimate way.

The manner she was spread out in front of him was provocative, as if she had laid back as he fucked her on his lap. Her shoulders and head were propped up so he could enjoy every single breath she drew and twitch she made. His hips fit in between hers perfectly, her legs tied behind him imitating that way she would wrap him as he drew in and out of her. Rorik breathed deeply, aroused and ready to see her naked, laid out beneath him.

He used the big tear in her pants to rip the fabric down her left leg. Her undergarments were extremely basic, just two pieces of cloth with simple knots at the side. He leaned back to take a longer look at the light material that covered her sex and saw no blood.

A mix of impatience and anger spread across his chest. He tampered it down, reminding himself of all the proof he had gathered that these were the women they needed. Even if this one wasn't a Daughter of Ziva, fertile and ready to reproduce, there would be others that were. He pressed his now solid shaft against her again and ground cruelly against her, aiming to pull both himself and her into the present moment.

She was pressing her face into her armpit, her breathing ragged, her cheeks turning a pleasant red. Her body was tense, the thigh he gripped with his right hand was solid underneath the softness her womanhood allowed her. Rorik liked that. Her flesh was strong, and yet it had some give. He anticipated that her personality would be following suit after he was done.

Sienna's nerves were on fire. She had no idea what he was intending on doing and it was only fueling the trepidation running through her. Was he going to rape her with the knife? Or just with the pole he was rubbing against her? Or both?

She did her best to keep her thoughts on the coolness of her arm against her forehead and the blackness behind her eyes. The direct contrast of the cold air kissing her leg and the heat of his shaft was making that incredibly difficult.

The cool flat of the knife slipped into the shreds of her pants again, floating just above her pleasure centre. He moved his hips back, and before she could fly into a full-blown panic about why he was moving, his other hand left her thigh and grabbed a handful of the shredded pants between her legs. His knuckles then pressed up against her entrance, creating a pressure that left her breathless. Her underwear felt like a threadbare slip of fabric, barely protecting her from his encroaching fingers. She trembled, biting her lips together to stop her - from what, she didn't know.

Then the flat of the knife tipped and pressed down on her clit. She gasped, shocked, as the knife did a slow circle, dragging her clit with it. Her sensitive bud sparked to life, sending bursts of stimulation out to the tips of her fingers. Her brain was buzzing with too many emotions to figure out whether that stimulation was good or bad. Sienna looked at him, confused and mistakenly looking to him for answers.

He was looking at her, but with only the dull flicks of the fire giving the side of his face some colour, that was all she could discern. From what she could tell from his jaw he seemed to be relaxed, his eyes no doubt devouring her like they had as he had restrained her in her village. What was he thinking?

As their eyes met, he lifted the knife, giving her reprieve, but only for a second. The knuckles pressed against her slit began slowly shifting, keeping that same torturous pressure. The fist rolled along her underwear, the bumps of his knuckles dipping one by one in between her lips as they crossed from one side to the other. Just a finger length away, her insides clenched and the same deep heat she had felt as he had first subdued her cropped up.

"What's your name?" It was with his digits playing with her most intimate space that she noticed how deep and rhythmic his voice was.

Sienna closed her eyes, scared and bewildered. He was just about to shove a knife in her. Why was he touching her like this? What changed? Or maybe he had never intended on actually doing it, he just let her think it.

The knife dropped to touch her clit again, dragging it in another circle. Flames shot recklessly through her body, ones she now loathingly recognized. The refusal to acknowledge what was happening to her crumbled with the simulation of her clit. This was pleasure blooming inside of her, her tiny nerve bundle not able to identify it was a dangerous weapon pressed up against it. Right behind the now nameable flame was pain. Her muscles were moving involuntarily in response to his transgressions, increasing the suffering in her abdomen and back.

Whatever he had planned to do originally, what he was doing now was robbing her of thought. When she had been afraid she had been thinking too much, but at least she had thoughts to keep her aware of who those fingers belonged to.

Sienna had sex once a year before, and though it had ended up being a pleasant experience, her only orgasms had come from her fingers. Pleasure, before now, had been a solitary experience. The fact that this was him wresting these sparks from her intensified her confusion. His touch should be leaving her cold. She was disgusted, both with him and herself.

The knife lifted, slicing through the cloth of her other pant leg. This time she barely flinched, her mind on the knuckles that dipped in and out of her barely covered slit. The fist left and she squirmed, not sure if trying to get away or relieve the tension he had created. He ripped what was left of her pants off her body and threw it to the side. The knife and his knuckles came back, chasing away any chill she might have gotten from revealing her bottom half.

"Answer me and I'll stop."

She almost didn't hear him. The flat of the knife lowered and rubbed her clit, heat scoring through her body. Stabs of agony followed and she gritted her teeth. The pressure lifted off for a breath and then dipped back to rub her clit back and forth, the rhythm he was creating dropping molten heat onto the coil inside her. Each time the knife touched her clit, her muscles screamed at her and the fire that sat just out of reach of his fist grew. Her brain followed each crossing knuckle, each one sinking just far enough to have her spare a thought at what his fingers could do.

Sienna realized was quickly reaching her breaking point. If this didn't stop, she could actually come in front of this monster. Dear Mother.

"I can see you are in pain." His voice cut through her fogging brain. His knuckles stayed busy. "There are two ways this ends. The first way is you tell me your name and I leave you to sleep and heal in peace." The pressure increased on her slit as he leaned forward, the rhythmic pressure on her clit continuing. Sienna knew she was panting. "The second is I fuck you with my fingers until you break apart. Then I will truly fuck you, and it won't matter how many times you scream in pain, or gasp your name, I will take you as many times as I thought about slaking myself in a woman on the journey here."

A deep shudder from what she hoped to be fear travelled it's way to her heat, and a moan was her response. She stopped it by biting her lips, but the loud vibration in her throat made it clear what she was hiding. No matter how wanton the moan had sounded, she was terrified and that was what she attributed it too.

A digit extended from the fist rubbing itself on her. His finger hooked around the slim cloth protecting her.

"Sienna!" She gasped, grimacing. "Sienna!"

He stopped moving but kept the pressure on her pounding entrance, the tip of his finger sitting in a shameful wetness that had gathered at her centre. She opened her eyes, looking at him with what she knew were begging eyes. His lip curled upwards in what looked like disdain and a deep shame did that same curl in her chest. His hands stayed for so long she thought he would rape her anyways.

When they dropped away, Sienna didn't hide her sigh of relief.

The knife twisted, and with a flick of his wrist her underwear fell off. Sienna jerked, her nerves absolutely frayed. She couldn't take this give-one-thing-and-take-another game he was playing with her. She was shaking like a leaf and tears were gathering in her eyes.

"Stop, please stop," she moaned.

He leaned his face towards her, his free hand coming up to clasp at her jaw roughly.

"I asked you for your name, not your whimpered demands," he said, condescending and angry. "Be quiet."

The tears in her eyes fell as he let go, the place where his grasp had been throbbing right along with the rest of her body. She turned her face away, clenching her eyes shut. Her forehead fell onto her cold arm, doing her best to gather herself again. She felt cold air hit her naked body as he cut away the rest of her clothes, no doubt making sure her clothes were no longer wearable. Another stroke of shame slid through her as she realized her nipples were already hard as he cut off her shirt. Her body had been fucking primed.

He untied her hands from the hook and her left foot from the wooden beam, leaving her hands bound and foot secured to that stake. Pulling her fully onto the furs, he turned her on her side, facing the tent canvas. Then he laid behind her, pressing his body along with his hard length against her backside.

She went rigid, her arousal now half gone and fleeing full speed. He had said he was leaving her in peace. Grabbing the blanket and pillows that sat on top of the trunk, he laid the blanket on top of them both and placed a pillow beneath both of their heads. Sienna chased away the question of why he was caring about her comfort, telling herself it didn't matter.

He was still for long enough that she thought he would just go to sleep. Then he leaned in, increasing the pressure of his frame against hers. He splayed his hand on her hip to keep her in place and raised his lips to her ear.

"My name is Rorik, Sienna," he said, his voice so low she could feel the vibrations. She resisted the chills that dropped down her spine, his timbre and closeness affecting her. "You will call me Voivode in front of my men, and Sir when we are alone. But when I am deep inside you, wrenching pleasure from your body, that is the name you will scream."

She wasn't able to fight off these quake in her muscles as her pussy clenched. Tears slipped down Sienna's face as he settled back, keeping her close with his hand on her hip. Rorik's hot shaft was resting in between her ass cheeks, his pants acting as her shield, giving her no reprieve from what had just happened. His breath slowed until it was even, whispering across her bare back, leaving her diving into an abyss of confusion and mortification.

Sienna couldn't believe she had let him do that. There a had to have been an opening where she could have fought him off. Even with the pain radiating just under her ribs, she could have done something. She could have fought until she passed out, or screamed until he choked her into unconsciousness. Anything to get his loathsome hands from dragging that unforgiving pleasure from her.

With pain in front of her, Sienna had been scared but relatively solid. The moment he had thrust pleasure into the torment, she had been lost. Sienna had always been under the impression that the Gavali men caused pain and only pain wherever they went. Her Grandma's stories had attested to that. They took what they wanted without any concern for whom it affected and how. In her world, when someone pleasured another it was a giving gesture. That had felt like anything but giving, no matter how hot her body had gotten.

What if Sienna hadn't been in pain? What if she hadn't been kicked by that horse? What if her face had shown the pleasure he had wrung out of her instead of the grimaces and winces that had been there? She would be underneath him now as he took his pleasure inside of her. Had she even tried to keep her face neutral during the moments where bliss overcame her pain? She couldn't remember.

Maybe Sienna's shame was just another kind of pain, one that snuck in through the back of the mind while the rest of her fought off the pleasure. Now Sienna knew firsthand why the elders in her village had created the rule that bodily integrity was to be respected. The rage and despair that erupted in her chest over and over again was a feeling she wouldn't wish on anyone. Sienna half wished she had been touched without her permission before today, only so she wouldn't have been so woefully unprepared.

A nagging voice inside her told her she had. Incredibly disoriented, she admitted that her libido had indulged itself as he had subdued her. Her body had ached for touch as he held her down and whispered in her ear. She was humiliated and hated inch of her body.

The very deep parts of her that her Grandma had told her were connected to all things on Earth ached with misery. Tears came quicker, and she replayed every awful second his hands had been on her, trying to sear it into her brain. Maybe if she hated him enough, next time her body would remember to reject him accordingly.