The Dragon Chief

"Ay! Eyut eyut! Rekekeke!" The merchant stirred awake, unsure if she was dreaming. However, the thin, rickety walls of her shelter did nothing to muffle the voices from the storm and Willa had heard many stories about the eerie laughing language that echoed through the dunes at night, occasionally claiming unwary travelers.

"We're gonna skin you cackling fucks for that!" This second voice was deep, rumbling, and woke Willa immediately from her grogginess. More eerie laughter bounced across the walls of the abandoned farm buildings. Hoofbeats pounded the sand and sent vibrations up through her spine. She saw the shadows of movement through the cracks and holes in her lonely shed. The merchant held her breath in the darkness, waiting for the rickety door to be flung open by the marauders.

When the hoofbeats passed her by and faded into the roaring storm, Willa settled slightly but held her guard.. It seemed she waited in the dark for an eternity before the wind carried the sound of two male voices across the dunes and through the walls of her crumbling shelter. Her breath hitched when she recognized the rumble of the voice from earlier. She strained to hear the conversation but she could only pick small parts out of the roaring wind.

"...others... chief told... with hyena blood..." It was nonsense to Willa. The voices grew closer and became clearer.

"No sign of em'!" The blood in Willa's veins chilled at the words. The marauders were searching the area. With the men scouring the abandoned farm buildings, Willa knew she had very little time to escape unnoticed.

The dust storm would cover her tracks but she had to make a swift exit if she wished to go undetected by the marauders. She hid her goods hurriedly beneath a pile of ruined burlap sacks and scraps of wood before silently exiting her sanctuary and slinking away from the approaching voices. Willa could hear the crashing of old wood and metal as they tore through the buildings in search of their prey. Without the burden of her possessions, she crept quickly over a dune toward safety.

She would move to a safe distance and come back for her things later, assuming the marauders didn't find and take them. She knew it was a very real possibility that she would lose all her goods, but Willa knew it wouldn't matter if they found her. Willa cocked her head against the wind and strained to hear the hunting party. She shifted, trying to decide whether to flee further into the storm. Her instincts began to scream and she finally managed to tear herself away from the farm and her only possessions. She stayed low, beneath the ridge of the dune. Willa paused before leaving the safety of the dune's shadow.

"You're no hyena."

The voice was directly behind her and left a tickle of warmth on the back of her neck. She whipped around and, with all her strength, rammed her knee into his crotch. He collapsed onto his knees and dry heaved, leaving Willa an opening to run past him. She sprinted into the dust storm without a second thought. Lost was better than caught. Her heart skipped at the sudden whirring sound approaching her and then she was face first in the dune. Dazed, she rolled onto her back and sat up. Her legs were tangled together by a crude bola. Desperately, the merchant woman tried to untangle herself from the weapon. Her panic swelled as the marauder stormed toward her through the dust. His face was covered with a scarf so that all she could see was his narrowed eyes.

Willa reached for her revolver but she did not move quickly enough and the fuming marauder was upon her within seconds. She let out a frustrated roar as he dropped down to straddle her waist and pin her against the dune. He easily beat her to the gun, ripping it away and hurling it into the sands. At half the size of the raider on top of her, the merchant knew her odds were dismal. Despite this, Willa struggled viciously against him; she would rather die fighting than suffer at the hands of these brutes.

"I'm gonna make you hurt for that." He was squeezing her throat just enough to make her gasp for air and she clawed lines down his arms in her panicked struggling. She gasped in relief when he released her neck. She was free just long enough for the bandit to flip her on her stomach and press her face into the dust again. She continued writhing as he secured her arms uncomfortably tight behind her back.

He stood up off of her and there was a moment of eerie quiet before his steel-toed boot slammed into her ribs. She groaned at the blooming pain, curling in on herself before he kicked her again. Willa squeezed her eyes shut before he delivered another blow, this time to her stomach. She could not prepare herself before he delivered a final blow to the same place, making her sob out a series of curses. Seemingly satiated, he huffed out a bark of laughter.

Willa laid still at his feet. She was very aware of his eyes as they raked over her crumpled form. "Any more bullshit and I'll whip you bloody, got it?"

Willa shuddered and nodded. The man bent to ensure the bola was secure around her ankles. He rolled Willa back onto her stomach. Satisfied, the marauder began to pat her down, taking the time to feel roughly between her legs and thoroughly grope her tits. Fury boiled over in her chest as his heavy hands freely roamed her curves and when his arm passed in front of her face she did not hesitate to bite down on his sinewy forearm.

She sank her teeth in until she tasted blood and he howled. The marauder used his free hand to squeeze her neck until her vision blurred and she released him to wheeze for breath. When his cruel hands left her body, she briefly became aware of another larger man, whose face was also covered with cloth. He stood and watched her quietly.

"FUCK! You're one stupid cunt." As her attacker rubbed at the bite on his arm, Willa's heart pounded. The next thing her tormentor did made her freeze like a frightened rabbit. The sound of worn leather slinking through belt loops preceded her captor roughly tugging her jeans down over her hips and ass, leaving her behind and upper thighs exposed to the sting of the dust storm. The first biting strike of the belt woke her from her stupor and she tried to roll away with a furious yell.

The marauder grunted and tugged her back into position, this time pinning her with a knee to the back. He delivered a long succession of sharp, fast blows with the leather belt, making his prey curse and shriek with each strike.

She writhed under his knee but her captor continued relentlessly until she ceased her struggles and merely whimpered beneath his onslaught. The merchant woman felt warm blood trickling from her bottom and the backs of her thighs, mixing with the dust beneath her and staining her expensive clothes. Willa surprised herself with the tears flowing over her cheeks. She hadn't cried since she was a small child. The marauder, sweating from the effort, finally rose and turned to his friend, who had looked on patiently as Willa was brutally punished. Finally, the larger raider spoke.

"No trace of the pack. They used the storm to disappear." The larger bandit turned his gaze to her and she flinched, casting her eyes down to the sand. Willa thought she saw sympathy in his eyes, which almost stung as much as the belt. "Did you check her back?"

Her aggressor, who still stood over her exhausted body, barked out a laugh.

"Relax, brother. What are the chances? Think of all the whores before her. Were they marked?" Despite his words, he knelt over her. Willa made a sound of protest when her captor tore her sweater and shirt up to her neck. She was now exposed from her shoulders to her calves, and Willa shivered against the chill of the wind. There was silence for a moment as the men looked down upon her bared back. She did not dare look up at them, weary of inspiring further punishment. Willa startled when rough fingers rubbed aggressively at the skin over her spine, directly between her shoulder blades.

"Is this a scar?" His voice was ice cold and something about the question frightened her.

"That isn't..." Willa hesitated, weighing the consequences of her words. The bandit curled his fist into her hair.

"Torin..." at the interjection of the larger man, the bandit softened his grip on her scalp.

"Answer me, girl. Is this a scar?" Torin repeated the question and Willa shuddered when his calloused fingers jabbed into her spine.

"It... it's a birthscar." Willa managed to stutter an answer. Torin did not release her hair. He was quiet, as was his larger friend. After a long silence, he rolled off her and gently nudged her on her back. Willa winced at the movement but chanced a glance at the marauder's expressions. The larger one looked vaguely amused. Torin's face frightened her. The rage billowing off him made Willa flush and squirm away.

It was becoming very clear to her that these men did not intend to kill her, leaving the young trader with a frightening alternative; they meant to keep her. As she tried to process the situation, she suddenly became aware of several other raiders looking on with some amusement.

"Barr, you pack her up. We can't return empty handed again." Her captor, Torin, spat the order. She noted that he seemed to be the leader of this little party. Barr stepped toward her. He was built larger than her captor and he flashed Willa a goofy, slightly apologetic grin when he scooped her up. She was disturbed by his playful expression as he cupped a hand over her painful, bloodied ass cheek.

Barr did not bother to replace her clothes before settling her belly-down, securing her on his horse like a hunter's quarry. He gracefully hopped up into the saddle in front of her and made soft sounds at the horse before urging it to join their brothers.

Willa's tears cleaned the leader's blood from her face and left a dotted trail in the dust until she could cry no more. They rode until her ribs were screaming and her bare hips had chafed against the riding blanket, though the bloody welts on her rump had scabbed and dulled from a scream to a rumble. Blood flowed into her head and left her with a dizzying headache, and the bola was still wrapped bruisingly around her ankles and calves but she did not dare make a sound as to avoid any unnecessary attention from her subduers. Finally, as the sun started its ascent, they reached their apparent destination.

Barr slid down, stretching leisurely and drinking from a cantine before approaching the woman slung over his horse.

"You still alive, pet?" He gently tapped her cheeks until she relented and opened her eyes. The marauder chuckled and ruffled her dark, wind-blown hair with a strange endearment that made her shiver. Barr untied her and slid Willa over his shoulder so her ass was high in the air and all she could see was the back of his leather jacket and dusty asphalt. He held her in place with an arm around her thighs that aggravated the worst of her welts. Willa hissed at the pain but Barr ignored her completely, carrying her quickly toward an unseen destination. She heard a door open before blacktop became tile and the dust stopped its ceaseless attack on her skin.

Although her body hurt so she could barely move, Willa couldn't help but slump to her side with relief when Barr took her into another room with nothing but a small carpet and set her down on the cool, hard ground. She did not bother resisting him when he locked a tight leather collar around her neck, secured to the cement floor by a chain and metal ring.

"Good girl. You're learning."

The exhausted trader looked up at him and wondered what would happen to her. Would she be up for auction in the Redwater black market? Would they keep her as their own? Maybe they would eat her. She really had nothing to go on besides rumors and warnings from well-meaning locals.

Barr knelt before her.

"Don't struggle and I promise not to hurt you, okay?" Her eyes went wide and she nodded apprehensively. With her arms bound behind her and her legs tangled together, she wouldn't be able to do much anyway.

"I'm just gonna cut this off okay?" Her breathing quickened at his words. Willow's panic did not abate when he started to tear the knife through her sweater and undershirt. In the dunes, her clothes had tangled beneath her breasts, protecting the soft tissue from the wind and sand. When Barr's knife sawed through her ruined clothes, her pale breasts practically jumped free of the bindings. She was not wearing a bra or wrappings, as she had been planning to sleep before the skirmish.

Completely bare aside from the jeans and bola tangled around her legs, Willa curled in on herself miserably. Barr stood and circled her, spending extra time looking over the welts on her soft rump and the dark bruises over her stomach and ribs.

"Fuckin' prick..." Barr murmured to himself. Willa thought she could hear genuine annoyance in his voice as he looked over her beaten body. After a moment, he stood and left her there without another word. It wasn't long in the quiet of her tiny room before Willa fell into a nightmare-ridden sleep that left her twitching and groaning on the cement.

The woman was woken from her much-needed sleep by calloused fingers against the particularly tender and torn flesh of her upper thighs. They were covered in something cold and slick and they rubbed circles into her wounded flesh. Willa flinched away from the touch, dazedly trying to flee from the person causing the pain. She was reminded of her helplessness when her arms pulled uselessly against the bindings behind her. She tried to launch a blind kick in the direction of this new assaulter but they caught her bound legs easily and held her struggling form.

Willa's instincts were fueled to life by the arms around her and she rolled like a cat to escape her newest attacker. Although she succeeded in loosening his grip, Willa's neck now strained the collar and chain. She wheezed for air in this new position.

"Shit," His voice was smooth and low.

His hands were on her body again, dragging her across the carpet until the pressure on her throat let up and she coughed on the air that flooded her lungs. The hands became an entire body, pinning her with its weight as she bucked and struggled against it.

"I'm washing you and applying a salve to your wounds. I'm not here to hurt you. Now, lay back down." The voice was low, smooth, and right next to her ear. She hesitated in her panic as she became fully alert. This was a new voice, a new marauder. She stilled and he rolled off of her.

She curled back onto her side slowly and painfully, and this new marauder patiently let her settle before turning his attention back to her welts. He continued massaging her red, abused flesh. Now that she was mostly still, she realized the cool cream was numbing her painful welts. Though she flinched at his touch, a blush appeared on her cheeks and Willa no longer writhed away from him.

"Why do you heal me?" She hated how soft and ragged her voice sounded.

"Because I take care of my things."

"I don't understand."

"You will."

Willa stayed quiet until he was done rubbing the cream into her skin. When his hand brushed over the bruises covering her throat, her instincts flared to life and she jerked away from his touch. Finally, Willa's vision focused on him. He was imposing, with dark eyes and a thick, groomed beard. His jaw was punctuated with a mean scar and he was scowling down at the markings on Willa's neck. His scowl turned toward her purple side.

"Can you breathe alright?" He asked her as he gently felt her ribs. She winced at the pressure he exerted and nodded.

"Good. You'll probably feel better by the next moon."

"Does that mean I'll be alive for the next moon?"

"I hope so." The man's words chilled her.

He continued his perusal of her form with a warm, soapy rag. Willa's breathing became ragged and her cheeks flushed as his firm touch washed away the blood and grime of the dust storm from her every surface. He easily manhandled her until his hands had explored between her legs, under her arms, even the flesh behind her ears and between her toes.

She startled when he pressed his fingers into her from behind. She closed her eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her terror. Willa had known that rape was a possibility. She had began to prepare herself for that possibility when the raider straddled her in the desert. "Good. He left you untouched."

He moved his fingers inside of her, massaging her from the inside before withdrawing. Willa found her body reacting to the marauder's brief touch and her humiliation grew. She felt the tears coming again and quickly blinked away the moisture.

"What is your name?" Willa remained silent. "Should I give you a new one, then?"

"My name is not yours to have."

"I will have any part of you I please." His words made her skin jump. As if to punctuate his statement, one of his rough hands began massaging her breast casually. He paused and rolled her nipple between his fingers idly, making her breath skip, before continuing the massage on her other breast. "Tell me your name, or I will give you one."

"Willa," she spoke in a breath. The merchant immediately became angry at herself.

"Willa..." he purred her name and it made her heart pound. "Be good, Willa."

With that, he stood to leave.

"Wait!" Willa rasped. The marauder paused and looked at her curiously. She bit her bottom lip, hesitating, but asked him, "what do I call you?"

"Sir."

With that, he shut the door and left her in silence again.