Daughter of Ziva Ch. 01

"I like you like this. On your hands and knees, panting. It gives me many, many ideas." Sienna's grip on her thigh tightened to fight the shudder that travelled through her, the handle of her dagger resting against her wrist. His eyes ate through her as she shot him the meanest look she could. His brow furrowed. "You aren't scared-"

She moved without thinking. Her dagger scored through the air towards his neck. He moved quicker, pinning the arm with the dagger to the ground. Her leg kicked out, booting the side of his bent knee, hoping to dislodge his hold on her. His body twisted to the side, but his grip on her wrist stayed. Before she could get her feet under her, he grabbed her neck and slammed her into the dirt beside her arm. Her right arm punched him across the face, and though his face snapped to the side, he still had enough wherewithal to use the hand that gripped her wrist to catch the next punch and pin both of her arms above her head.

Sienna fought wildly, screaming and kicking, ignoring the awful pain radiating through her stomach. His shin pinned her thighs down as she twisted. She bucked and he put more of his weight on her thighs, his shin digging into her muscles painfully. She gave a scream as she threw her hips up, trying to remove his leg. He leaned into his shin and her scream of frustration turned to a screech of pain. He didn't let up until she stopped moving.

Sienna looked into his face, some of her hairs splayed across her vision. He was staring into her eyes, searching with that same intensity. She could feel his hands on her wrists and neck, her skin burning underneath them. Never in her life had she been restrained like this. Every touch she had ever received was loving and kind and, most importantly, wanted. Despite that, under her panic, she was unable to explain a deep heat that grew between her legs.

She looked at her hands and saw her dagger lying mere feet away. She fought the bubbles of panic and lurched with all her strength towards the dagger. The weight returned to her thighs and she screamed again, stilling much quicker this time. The weight stayed on her thighs and she thought her legs might break. She wanted to give in, she wanted to tell him to stop, but the smallest voice in her head protested. Instead, she screamed at the top of her lungs, infuriated he had subdued her so quickly. She hadn't even got close to him with the dagger.

Her scream ended and she looked at him, tears of panic gathering in her eyes. His eyes were still searching, never having looked away through her fight. His shin let up again and she stayed still. "Ah," he said, his voice low. "Now you're scared."

She spit at him. He pulled her arms above her head, stretching her shoulders painfully. He wiped his face on his shoulder and grinned at her as she grimaced and whimpered.

Again he lessened the pain he caused as she stilled. His eyes were hungry. His thumb stroked her neck, whether that was to remind her who had the power or comfort her she couldn't tell. The digit sent shivers down her back, straight into that unexplainable heat that had settled in her core. She arched to get as far away from him as possible and got no purchase.

She resorted to shrieking at him instead of moving. His thumb stopped and his hand around her neck tightened, blocking her airway and stopping her noise instantly. She could feel her face flush as he held her restricted airway in his hand. Her mouth moved in gasping motions, like a fish out of water, but got nothing. His grip loosened just as her eyes saw black dots.

Sienna gasped for air for the second time in minutes and found she'd rather break her legs than not breathe again. She looked at him and saw his eyes, still searching her face, soaking in every second of the torture he put her through. He was waiting for her to give in to him. To relent to his obvious strength. She hated him with everything she had.

His thumb continued those small circles on the side neck, reminding her what would happen if she tried to move again. Her heart pounded and her head turned away from him, trying to at least escape mentally from what was happening.

Seeing what she was doing, Rorik smirked and leaned down so his breath tickled over her ear and exposed neck. She was going to be present during every moment of her submission. "If you don't stop moving you're going to hurt yourself," he said quietly.

He felt her shiver and give her limbs a jerk. He ignored the jerk, focusing on the shiver. Rorik had seen the look on her face, even if it was just a flash. "Submit to me, little one."

The beauty's breath quickened slightly as she gave small tugs on the hand that held her arms above her head. He knew if he leaned back he could watch the pulse in her neck thunder away. She liked this. Whether she noticed through her fear or not, he saw it. Her cheeks were pink, her breath was coming in puffs, and the small shivers that travelled down her body gave it away. If he reached down and slipped a finger into her heat, he was betting he would find her slick. His captive was getting turned on as he overpowered her.

His thumb and breath on her neck kept drawing Sienna's attention away from her fury and outrage. His words incensed her, but also added to the tension gathering inside her. She wanted to get him as far away from her neck as possible. His closeness was making her feel flush and nervous instead of furious and resentful.

As he leaned over her, his face hovering near her jawbone, he started to hush her. His sounds blew warm air onto the sensitive spot below her ear, drawing shudders from her. Sensing her tense up to fight again, his thumb dug into her pulse, right underneath her jaw. She forced herself to relax, frustrated tears flowing freely down her face. His thumb stroked again and he hushed.

Her fight seeped out of her slowly, and he was there the whole time, stroking her and hushing her. Even with her head turned and eyes closed, there was no escaping him. He was drowning her senses. The man's body heat surrounded her and he smelled like woods, sea, and spice. Her mind stayed far away from why she felt so hot and why there was more than one type of ache in her abdomen, instead focusing on staying still.

His hand grabbed her chin and turned her head so she faced him. Her face was wet with tears and she glared at him, sniffling from crying. She felt pathetic. His rich blue eyes searched her face. His lips twitched, indicating he was satisfied. "Good girl."

Shame flooded her body, almost taking over the pain she felt. He was fucking praising her and petting her as if she were an animal. She felt sick.

He took his shin off her legs and turned her bodily onto her stomach. She grunted, cursing at the pounding ache from the horse kick. The man put his shin on the backs of her thighs. He used both hands to bring her arms to the small of her back. She found a small amount of solace that he was cautious enough of her to keep both hands on her.

Soon her wrists were tied and he moved his hands down her legs, slow enough to bring out a full body shudder. He tied her feet the same as her wrists, almost too tight. Footsteps approached. The long-haired man.

"Voivode, we need to get back to camp. Nikolai is losing blood."

"Voivode" was said like a title, not a name. Sienna turned to look at the long-haired man, enraged, her subdued manner evaporating quickly. The man she shot was not losing blood, he was dead. The long-haired man gave her a very thorough once-over before Voivode stood.

"Can he ride?"

"No," long-hair responded.

Because I shot him in the fucking neck, she thought, a nasty satisfaction spreading in her chest. She prayed to the Mother that this man died, knowing it went against everything she knew of the Mother. But praying for the loss of that human life could save her people, so she did it anyway.

"Then go," Voivode said, watching her as she smiled. He kneeled down and said, "he's not dead." Before she could respond, a hand squeezed underneath her and grabbed her far shoulder. Another giant hand scooped under her bottom to the front of her crotch.

The smile was wiped from her face as she gasped, bucking to get away. He used his grip on her most intimate space and her shoulders to lift her to her feet. He held her so her tiptoes just grazed the ground, his hand burning through her pants. Her head reached his shoulders as he held her in the air. His head dipped to speak in her ear while she gasped and sputtered.

"But if he dies, you will answer for it."

Rorik held her there for a moment, his hands feeling proof of his suspicions. In between her legs was damp. Her eyes were bewildered and angry, but also cloudy. Her arousal at him forcing her to submit called to a black part of him that left him rock hard. If he didn't have the other woman to secure, he would have thrown this girl to the ground and forced her to acknowledge exactly what her body was feeling and who was causing it.

He lowered her to her feet and removed his hand from her crotch. Sienna noticed that the heat from his hand stayed. Now, with her pants and underwear pressed against her lower lips, she felt dampness. Without giving her a second to consider how her pants had gotten wet, he lifted her by her hips and put her face down on the horse that had kicked her. All of her weight was on her stomach. The pain in her body flared to heights unknown. She forgot to breathe. Dear Mother....

Sienna felt a hand on her jaw as her eyes rolled. Then she was off the horse, being held upright. A whooshing sound and everything was gone.