The Assassin's Prize Ch. 01

*Disclaimer

This is my first story so hopefully you all will enjoy it. The first little bit of this chapter is mostly some character development and backstory, but stick with and you'll get to the fun stuff, I promise. Feel free to leave suggestions or feedback in the comments to help me out!

Xx,

Marie

*****

It's been a long time since I've felt such a rush. Usually being on the hunt is simply tedious, another job for another paycheck. People only ever want me to take care of the old, balding lords or annoying palace guards getting in the way of some planned robbery. I normally spend about a day tailing my target before I know, down to the last detail, the easiest way to take them out.

It's different this time, though. He's not some ugly old man. No, far from it in fact. He's young, perhaps twenty-five or so, about my age, and just come in to a large fortune. No one has ever heard of him until now, quite surprisingly given his good looks and easy charm. He seems to fit right in with the bourgeoisie, making it difficult to believe he's never set foot in an aristocratic society before. His fluid grace, tempting smile and practiced manners make me think that either he grew up in some other high society, or that he grew up like I did. As an assassin trained in all elements of society, so as to fit in wherever needed.

In that case, it will make my hunt so much more exiting. But he won't last long. No one ever does. There's a reason they call me the Queen of the Assassins, and it's not because I wear poofy dresses and sit on a throne pointing my scepter at scoundrels and mercenaries all day. No, it's because my skill is unrivaled, and I never fail. That what comes from being taken in by the King of the Assassin's at the age of nine, and trained for eleven years to be the best killer in the country.

As the young lord, Damon, enters back into his house, I watch for the light of candles flaring up before rising from my crouched position on the rooftop across the alley. After my second day of watching him, I still don't know exactly how to take him down. Old lords and guards have routines they follow, making it easy for me to plan an attack. This man, however, moves through his day erradicly, never staying anywhere for long periods of time and following no schedule. It does make my task more interesting though.

I walk to the edge of the roof, my movements oozing fluidity and a deadly grace. I leap off the roof, landing silently on the next, and take off at a run. When I leap again, I let myself slow, and walk back to the edge before dropping down and grasping a drain pipe affixed to the wall. Quickly and silently, I shin down it, and land with a small thud as my black boots make contact with the rain slicked ground. Thankfully the storm had moved past hours ago, put some puddles still remained on the ground. Taking off once again, I run through alleys between tall buildings and veer out of sight as tourists laugh and point to different landmarks. It's relatively dark out now, which favours me as my skintight black suit camouflages me well, and it's dark hood conceals my face.

No one knows what I look like, despite my well-known reputation, and I'd like to keep it that way. Nobody thinks that the Queen of the Assassins could be a barely twenty year-old girl with long, chestnut brown hair and wide green eyes. Without the suit, I could easily be mistaken for some beautiful court lady, or perhaps even a lady of the night from one of the many brothels in Curao. That's what many a man has thought anyway, until they wound up dead in a ditch somewhere. It's not that I like violence, but I happen to be very adept at it. I also hate men that get to handsy with me, and feel as though I owe it to them to let them use my body as they see fit.

As I take the last turn onto the Manor's driveway, I slow my pace. What comes next, I don't enjoy. While I may not let just any man put his hands on me, there is one man that I can't stop. The King. The man who found me starving and dirty, lying in a ditch when I was nine years old. He took me in, fed me, and taught me how to kill. Taught me how to walk without making noise, how to extract any information I want, and how to dispose of any unwanted evidence. When I was young, my payment for his saving my life was simply working for him, whether that be taking jobs from his clients to dispatch whomever they needed gone, or whether it be scrubbing the floors until they shone. As I got older though, my face narrowed and my cheekbones became more defined.

My breasts grew large and heavy, my waist narrowed while my hips flared . My legs became long and shapely, and suddenly, his attention turned from fatherly to something radiating more of a hunger. A desire. Being only ten years older than me, the King of the Assassins is still a gorgeous man, vied after by every female in his employ. Being that I'm one of the only female assassins, all the other women on his payroll are whores and showgirls, it's odd for him to want me. But he never pays them any attention. No, his insatiable hunger, every night, and sometimes in the morning or afternoons if I'm around, is turned on me. Never could he possibly consider taking one of them, no he reserves himself and his never-depleting stamina for me, making it an easy decision for me to be out of the Manor as much as possible.

Walking back toward it now, a cluster of feelings washes over me. Dread, resignation, and as much as I hate myself for it, a touch of excitement. I hate that I've become his plaything, but even I have to admit that he certainly knows what he's doing in bed. Tonight will be no different when I get back to my room. Within minutes, he'll be there, helping me out of my suit, ready to take me.

~~~

He's already there, leaning against the intricately carved wood of my elaborate four poster bed when I get in. His eyes meet mine, and I try to conceal the rage and fear that I feel toward him as I look down at my weapons belt and begin to unfastened the clasp.

"You were out a long time. Where were you?"

"I was tailing the new lord, Damon. The one that you assigned me yesterday, remember?"

"You haven't dispatched him yet? That's unlike you." A disapproving gleam enters his eyes, and I feel my anger flare bright and hot. Despite the fact that I hate being his whore, I refuse to let him think I'm weak.

"He's trickier than most. I think he might be one of us but I've yet to confirm it."

"Something you can think about tomorrow. Come here." His tone is red hot, barely concealing his desire to throw me down on the bed. He prefers it this way though, forcing me to come to him first. I walk slowly, deliberately, trying to delay for as long as I can, but I know it won't hold him off forever. Only for a few precious moments. When I near him, he reaches out and slides a hand across my back, fingers splaying out possessively. As he tilts his head, nuzzling into my neck and breathing in my scent, I think back to the first time he ever took me.

~~~

Over the past two weeks, I had noticed that the way Marcus looked at me had changed. Granted, I had changed a lot too. My breasts had begun to swell, becoming round and heavy, barely fitting in the dresses I wore when I wasn't on a job. My hips had grown larger too, and I had caught the King staring at my ass more than once. It worried me slightly, as he had never looked at me this way until now. Ever since I became old enough to attract the attention of men, I had appreciated the way they looked at me, flattered that they would stare after me instead of the whores that Marcus employed. It was different though, when Marcus looked at me. The guards looked at me in appreciation, whereas Marcus looked at me... hungrily. As if he were starving, and I was his only salvation.

I pondered the thought as I walked toward my bed chambers. The floorboards creaked under my feet, the only sound in an otherwise silent hall. Marcus had taken me in, trained me, made me the best. I was grateful, even if I did have to earn my keep by cleaning the Manor until it shined. It wasn't like I didn't care for him, I did, just not in any kind of romantic or lustful way. Certainly, he was probably one of the most attractive men I had ever seen, but there was something I just couldn't get around when I thought of him and I together. It didn't matter though, as I was sure that the King would keep his distance. But, if for some reason he decided he wanted me, I knew there was nothing I could do to stop him. It was the same as when I didn't want to scrub the floors. Please Marcus, or get out.

I didn't want to leave, and knew I wouldn't make it on the outside without any work or skills other than being an assassin. I may be the best here, but I knew that this was my only skill set. Approaching my room, I let myself relax, anticipating a hot bath to ease my sore muscles before tumbling into bed. Letting myself into my room, I started when I saw Marcus, King of the Assassins sitting on my bed.

"Marcus, is something wrong? What are you doing here?" My query seemed to amuse him, as his only response was a slight twitch of his lips and a glint entering his eyes. He stood gracefully, and walked toward me with a predatory ease. When he neared me, he reached out, slipping his arms around me and burying his nose in my neck. Inhaling deeply, his tongue flicked out to taste me, making shivers run down my spine.

"Marcus, what are you..." His hand reached down, grabbing my ass firmly.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm done holding myself back. I'm going to fuck you until you can hardly breath, dearest. And then, you are going to thank me."

"Marcus, please don't! This isn't you, isn't us... this isn't what we're meant to be, please."

"Oh, my sweet Kenna, how naive you are. I would suggest you stop struggling now, and enjoy my attentions before I get angry." As he pulled back, I could see the look in his eyes, the barely restrained desire now tinged with anger. I felt my resolve dissipate, and I relaxed in his grip, resigned to letting him have his way, and getting it over with as quickly as possible. He felt the resistance flood out of me, and wasted no more time. His hands reached up to the clasp of my black suit, unzipping the material and peeling the clingy fabric from my body. My breasts, no longer confined in the suit, swung free, attracting Marcus's eyes. His tongue darted out moistening his lips.

"How long I've imagined getting my hands on these." And they did just that, his fingertips rolling my nipples into stiff peaks, sending darts of pleasure through me. I refused to react though, refused to give him the pleasure of knowing how he affected me. Stripping the suit off the rest of the way, Marcus said, "Don't worry, darling. You may convince yourself that you can keep yourself from reacting to my touch, but by the end, I'll have you begging for my cock."

A slight shudder went through me as his hands roamed over my body. One hand coming up to my chin, he lifted my face, forcing me to look at him. Tilting his head down, his lips engulfed mine, their pressure insistent and hot. His tongue darted out, prying my lips open and sweeping in, caressing my tongue lightly. So gentle, yet I was not deceived. This would not last long. His hand reached out for mine, guiding it over top of his crotch. I felt his cock, long and hard, through his pants as he rubbed my hand along it. His free hand wandered up to my mouth, two fingers parting my lips and plunging in.

"Suck, sweet girl. That's it, now swirl your tongue around. Good girl." I shuddered again, and this time, he felt it.

"Shudder all you want now my dear, but you'll come to love it, to crave it soon enough." And with that, he stepped back, slung off his shirt, and undid the buttons to his trousers. Placing a hand on my shoulder, he pushed me down, forcing me to my knees. I'd never been with a man before, but there was a faint suspicion in me, and I could guess what was coming next. He reached into his pants, and pulled out his cock. My eyes widened as I looked at it, long and hard, at least ten inches and as wide as my wrist. He stepped up to me placing his cock in front of my mouth.

"Suck it." The command was firm, left no room for negotiation. I looked up at him one last time, and inched forward toward his thick shaft. One of his hands came to rest on the back of my head, pushing me forward more firmly until his head bumped against my lips. I parted, and he thrust forward, deep into my mouth. He thrust a couple more times, before telling me to close my lips and suck on him, as I did with his fingers. As my tongue probed his head, he let out a long groan and started thrusting hard into my mouth. His groaning increased in tempo, and I realized that perhaps if he finished in my mouth that he wouldn't take me tonight. With that though, I sucked harder, bobbing my head back and forth, swirling my tongue rapidly.

"Oh, excellent, darling, but don't think you can get me off that fast. We have much more to do tonight and I won't be deprived of what I desire." And with that, he pulled out of my mouth. Pulling me back to my feet, his lips met mine again, and he backed me toward the bed. Laying me down, his fingers slid down my body until they reached the nest of curls hiding my pussy. "We'll have to shave this off dear, I'm not a fan of it."

With that, he plunged two fingers into me. It gave me slight satisfaction when he realized that I was dry. Looking at me, his eyes sparked with challenge, and his fingers went to my nub, rubbing it lightly at first, then faster and harder. Leaning forward, his lips captured one of my nipples, and he bit down lightly, sending thrills of pleasure through my whole body. His hands were working fast, and I could feel myself closing in on a climax. Writhing under him, I squeezed my eyes shut as it hit me, wreaking havoc on my self control. I didn't utter a peep though, having had some practice in not making a sound as I climaxed.

His eyebrows rose at my lack of crying out, but then he simply smiled, and begun to kiss his way down my belly, his cock dragging against my leg, before closing in on my pussy. His tongue darted out, flicking my nub, and then his lips closed around it, sucking hard. I gasped, one hand reaching down to grasp the sheets. My hips bucked under him, but he wasn't fazed. He simply brought a hand up, and once again plunged two fingers into my now dripping pussy, pumping them in and out as his tongue flicked my clit. Approaching an orgasm once again, my hips rolled under Marcus and I wanted to cry out, to beg him to finish me off, but I managed not to, and simply let the feelings wash through me, more intense than anything I'd ever felt.

As I came down from the high, he stepped back, admiring my heaving body, and then knelt over me, positioning his cock at my entrance. I turned my head to the side, unable to watch. His hand reached up, yanking my face forward.

"You will watch me take you, Kenna, and know that from now on you are mine. Mine to do what I want with, whenever I want." With those words, he thrust forward, impaling me on his massive cock. Pain rippled through me, sharp and intense. I gasped, the air cold in my lungs. Giving me a moment to adjust to his girth, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair from my face, and then started moving again. At first, he was slow and gentle, easing his way in and out of me, but as his own pleasure built up, he started pistoning in and out of me harder and faster. Slowly, the pain faded into increasing pleasure, and I found myself moving to meet his thrusts, my breath coming hard and heavy. He pushed into me harder and harder, my body slamming into his, his balls slapping against my ass. I moaned, load and long. As I looked at him, satisfaction filled his eyes. Reaching down again, he started playing with my clit, and I exploded around him. My hips bucked and I cried out, my pussy clenching around his rock hard cock.

"Oh yes!! Oh please, fuck me Marcus! Yes!! Oh God..."

I raked my nails along his back, leaving marks that would be seen the next day. He leaned down again, taking my nipple between his teeth. The tinge of pain brought me back up to that delicious high, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him in closer. Grinding my hips against him, he shuddered, then pulled back and started hammering into me again.

"Oh sweet girl, I can't wait to let myself go inside of you. And don't worry darling, I've been giving you a tonic in your drink every morning that will prevent you from getting with child. So yes darling, I will be coming inside of you." I no longer cared anymore. I could only think about the delicious feelings overwhelming me and my desire for release. And as he slammed into me again and again, I got my wish, my body exploding once again into orgasm. As my pussy clenched around him that final time, he let himself go with a roar, and spilled his hot seed into me.

As he collapsed onto the bed beside me, his softening cock pulling out, he looked me over appraisingly.

"I told you that you would be begging for my cock. They always do. But you did well little one, and you'll learn quick exactly how to please me.

~~~

Back in the reality of my situation, with Marcus's nose nuzzled into my neck, I know what comes next, and prepare myself for his hard cock inside me, wracking my body with multiple orgasms until he finishes inside me. Nothing has changed over the years, and for now, nothing will change.