Inamorata Tales Ch. 02

'What you looking for, girlie?' one of them asked. 'That blade you had strapped round your legs gone. Nothing left now.'

Rayne grinned and laughed, eyes sparkling. She said nothing, instead lifting the folds of her tunic dress, bundling round her waist, opening her legs even wider to expose the thin fabric of underwear.

'She's... wet,' came a surprised, almost amused voice.

'There's something there after all, then, isn't there?' Rayne asked in a soft, seductive voice, fingers gently stroking her sex as she lifted her head back in apparent pleasure.

One of them stepped forward.

'Easy, Gilly. Crew said we wasn't to fuck with her,' one of the others warned.

The braver one smiled as he knelt beside her. Rayne returned the smile with passion, breathing slow and deep, chest rising and falling heavily.

'I'm not going to fuckwithher, mate; I'm just going to fuck her. You'd like that, wouldn't you, eh?' and he reach out to stroke the hot wetness of her through the fabric.

Rayne moaned at his touch, biting her lip, putting her hands over his and pushing it harder against herself.

'Oh, yes,' the man said. 'She'd like that very much.'

I have one chance to do this. Fail and it's all over.

She pushed his hand aside impatiently and shoved her hands under the thin material, driving her fingers deep inside herself as the stunned men looked on.

Lucky they bound my hands in front.

With a cry of sheer ecstasy, Rayne rolled onto her side, thighs clenching together around her wrists. She drove her fingers deeper inside, shuddering with delight and then rolled onto her knees, putting her clenched hands out in front of her as she fell forward, offering herself to the men behind her.

'Well, not like she can do us any harm, is it?' said the first man and Rayne felt him hurriedly tug her clothes up and out of the way, blunt fingers exposing her with a rip of thin fabric. Greedily, he found her opening and shoved two thick, rough fingers inside her.

Rayne opened her mouth, grinding herself back at him as she whimpered with fear and need and lust, the wounded animal seeking favour with its captors.

'Please... Take me... Please...' she breathed in a hungry, needful voice. 'I need it... So much.'

More fumbling and then Rayne felt something thick and stiff prod between the soft folds of her cunt and then, with a great sigh, the man plunged deep into her wet heat.

'Fuckkkk,' he exclaimed. 'Oh, she feels good. Proper Inamorata this one. Trained. I can tell. Not like a whore by a long ways.' And he began to thrust in and out, hands gripping her hips as, grunting and hissing, he pleasured himself.

Not yet. Not yet.

She squeezed him as only a girl such as her could, milking him in ways she knew he'd never experienced until, with an astonished cry, the man emptied himself into her. His fingers relaxed their grip on his flesh as, laughing, he rolled aside. She could hear him breathing deeply as he chuckled at his own good fortune.

Not yet.

The second one took his place, Rayne feeling him kneel over the rope strung between her ankles.

'Sloppy fucking seconds,' he muttered but without feeling, his voice edged with lust, and Rayne felt herself invaded again. She cast one look behind her and saw the third man, saw his eyes feasting on what she offered.

It happened in the blink of an eye.

The man gasped in shocked pleasure as he felt Rayne's cunt grip him ferociously. That pleasure was all she needed to get round what little of his guard was still up and, by the time he felt Rayne lift her lower legs up, the rope taking the mans feet up with them, pulling him forward, it was too late.

A startled 'What-' was all he managed before Rayne pushed herself upright onto her knees and, in a blur, crashed the back of her head full into the man's face. She heard the thick, sickly crunch of his nose being crushed under the impact and the wail of the man. His hands flew instinctively to his face.

By the time they got there, he was already falling to the side, Rayne twisting herself, rolling onto him as the third man moved forward and the first of her captors, wide eyed and panicked, began to struggle to get up. The damp soil and the trousers still round his lower legs didn't help.

Snick.

The third man gaped in slow motion as he saw Rayne bring her hands up over her head as she rolled to sit, like a lover, on top of the man with the shattered nose. One hand was wrapped around the other and, in the middle, as if from nowhere, came the blade of the slim knife they hadn't found.

Didn't find this one, did you?

The third one had rushed forward to help restrain a bound, helpless woman who'd attacked his friend. Rayne was bound but she was far from helpless.

The blade thudded into his chest up to the hilt and pierced his heart. He gave a strangled gasp and then fell aside, hands clutching his breast, the knife still sticking from him.

Rayne turned to the first one who had barely managed to stand up in the time it had taken Rayne to fell his two companions.

She stretched her legs out and threw herself round on her hands, bringing her shins crashing into the man's calves. His feet flew out from under him and he feel onto his back, a great 'whumpf' of air knocked from his lungs at the impact.

She was on him in a second, straddling him, pushing one knee between his thighs and then driving it hard upwards. The man screamed as, over and over, she smashed herself against him repeatedly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the man with the crushed nose stagger to his knees, blood running thickly between his fingers as he tried to get onto his feet.

Rayne smiled.

'Where do you think you're going?' she sneered, rolling upright with an easy grace and walking stiffly over to the dead one. She pulled her flick knife from his chest, cut her wrists and ankles free and then moved behind him. A kick to the back of his legs and he fell back to his knees before he'd even managed to get to his feet properly. She gripped his hair, yanking his head back and the men gave a strangled cry, his hands reaching up to try and break her grip. One slash across his throat and he fell, dying, to the floor.

'And that leaves you...' Rayne hissed, fire burning in her eyes. The man looked at her in pure terror as he rolled onto his side, one hand still clamped protectively around his battered genitals, the other stretched out before him, fingers splayed. He began to beg.

Then he screamed.

Blood flew, glittering in the air.

The forest fell silent.

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Rayne stood over the bodies, her hands limp by her sides, eyes fixed on the top of the sword that pinned them grotesquely together. It was the first time in many years she simply didn't know what to do.

I cannot leave them like this.

Shaking with grief, Rayne put her hands out, wrapping her hands around the handle of the sword. She gripped and prepared to tug it free.

'Hey! You there!'

With a start, Rayne spun round and saw the man and his boy standing, shocked, on the edge of the woods. The mule they led was loaded with meat and fur. As Rayne watched, the man put his hand to his own long knife hanging from his belt.

Trappers.

And in a second she saw what they saw. A man and women butchered by the side of the road. Standing over them, hands on the sword that had slain them, was a woman covered in dried blood.

'No,' Rayne began, 'please, you don't understand.'

The man paid her no heed and drew his knife, pushing his son behind him.

'Just step away from them, girl. No need for more bloodshed. Looks like you've done enough already.'

The thought that this stranger thought Rayne had done this hit her like a kick to the stomach and nausea welled in her.

'No. I didn't do this. Please,' but she could see the look in his eyes as he approached and knew his mind was set.

She saw his stance and posture and knew without doubt that she would best him in a fight easily but Rayne knew she would not. Instead, with a guttural sob, she backed up to her horse and swung astride it.

'Treat them well, I beg of you,' she said forlornly, pulling the animal round and racing away.

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Some time later, hearing a stream nearby, Rayne stopped and washed. The cold water stung like needles against her as she bathed naked in it, scrubbing herself from top to toe. She buried the ruined, bloodstained clothes, dressed in clean from her saddlebags. She sat, lost in thought, until the sun began to drop from the sky.

No master, no home, no life, no place.

She felt groundless, truly alone in what suddenly felt like a huge, terrifying world.

They will soon realise who I am, will begin looking for an Inamorata and will likely start that search in the very place I am heading for; Hercot. I have precious little time and I cannot live too heavily on my skills lest they mark me out.

In her hands she held her belt and blades, taken from one of the three now lying dead deep in the forest behind her.

Place and purpose.

The words rolled round in her head, the ethos of a life dedicated to service.

I have no place but I do have a purpose.

And in her mind she saw Crew, saw again what he had done and both rage and grief fought for precedence in her heart. She thought of Jarren.

There are things i must do first but I will see you soon, love. But not yet.

She climbed back astride her horse.

Not yet.

And for the first time in a long time, Rayne rode alone.