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Any similarities to anyone living or dead is entirely co-incidental.
Warning: sexually explicit.
The Beginning of All Strife
By StoryJunkie
She was at that place again. The verdant jungle destined one day to be a merciless desert. Someone had captured her, and brought her to him so that he could offer her as a sacrifice to a stone effigy, a merciless god he didn't believe in, but endorsed because through this means, he could find a woman like her and test her depth. How old was she? She remembered eighteen summers. All her life, she had been secluded from men. Her homeland was far away, divided from his by a great body of water.
The sun glared off of the white stone where the jungle didn't cover it. A strange city carved from the stone, embellished with strangely sculpted beasts, alive with a humanity she had never before imagined. The sea, glittering in the distance, the azure sky combined to make a halcyon scene, distant from the creatures that crawled beneath it.
Their language was strange, fearsome, and they regarded her as barbaric and had put her on display. She had patiently endured, knowing there was a purpose to all this. Her hair was decorated with colored feathers; she wore only a short skirt made from the skin of a fierce predator. Around her ankles, crocodile teeth, on her body, swirling tattoos. They had confiscated her weapons, by which she had defined herself all her life, her only possessions. On one side of her chest, an empty space where she had once had a breast, taken from her by the animal whose skin she wore.
Her appearance excited them. Mystified by the lack of one breast, several on-lookers reached toward her to check to see if she was a man or woman, peeking under her skirt for the sight of a penis. She stood still, aloof from their pack animal mentality and looked toward him where he stood, far above the crowd. She knew that he was her destiny. She had seen him in her dreams, and in him she would find her only pleasure, and her death. For him, she knew, it would be worse. For him to meet her and loose her would drive him into the gorge of insanity, and his far reaching effect could not be stopped by the Son of God himself.
Beneath her feet, she felt the Earth Mother strengthening her for the trial she must endure at his hands. It was the Earth herself who came to her in a dream and told her of this place of tar. Many earthquakes had shaken the land. Many people had lost their lives because of the effect this one man had because he could find no woman to fit him. He had allowed strange priests to make up a strange religion by which he forced himself on women on a daily basis, seeking fulfillment, but finding none. Any who failed or displeased him were offered as blood sacrifice to his unbendable god. Should any woman bear a child because of an encounter with him, he had the infant given to the bloodthirsty priests, and he cared not one whit whether they suffered or not.
As much as this knowledge sickened her, through the eyes of the Earth, he was but a misguided son, whom she loved dearly, and who had caused her untold grief. The Earth had asked permission to use her as a means of his punishment.
If love could be called a punishment.
She hadn't wanted to do it, but the Earth had infused her with compassion, so upon him, her eyes were riveted, and it mattered not that she couldn't understand his language. She could be afraid of nothing since she had faced the worst predator, faced death, and defeated it once. He could instill no fear in her. He could not possibly be worse than the thing that had hunted her. The thing that had mauled her...He couldn't be worse than that.
She had tracked and hunted many things. In turn, she had been tracked and hunted by mighty predators. She knew both sides of the experience of the hunt. Now she was trapped, caged, and waiting for them to open the door. But she knew that she was not an animal. She had a purpose. She had a quest. She would not give up her dignity to them so easily. So she looked upon them with distain, and waited for what would happen next.
She saw him turn his eyes toward her. They were hard, cold, assessing. Even from this distance, she saw the revulsion. She did not waver under his assessment, for his opinion did not matter to her, had never mattered to her. She could gaze into his soul, and pitied him for what sorrow he was about to endure. The hot sun shone upon his head, the planes of his face, and the sensual line of his mouth. His expression was more regal than hers. He was used to getting his own way in all ways but one. No one had ever defied him. If they did, he had ways of making them do what he wanted.
She stood in the middle of her cage, not touching the wooden bars. With the strength and knowledge she possessed, she could easily break free, yet she did not. Her body was trim, supple, at the apex of fitness. She could run without getting weary. She could climb swiftly if need be, up a tree or up the face of a cliff. She could throw her weapons accurately and with great force. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and waited as they brought her before him, struggling to heave her prison up the hill.
In spite of her abilities, or perhaps because of them, even her own people had kept her caged at night. From the time she was nubile, the shaman had ordered she be kept aloof from the rest of the tribe until her mission was accomplished. He had then proceeded to instill into her very skin, signs of warding, so that men would be repelled. She endured the painful process by submitting to the old man for nearly a month. The results had been successful. Not even her childhood friends came to see her much after that.
With her skin in this condition, however, her hunting skills improved dramatically. The tattoos enabled her to melt into the landscape. Enemies who tried overcoming her people were repelled single-handedly by her fearsome appearance. It was almost as if she could transform her body into a dreaded predator. They looked upon her with terror, and she rejoiced.
She anticipated meeting him. A strange, overflowing feeling filled her being as she was brought closer to him. She could feel him waiting at the end of this path; feel his anticipation equaling hers. It made her arms weak to know how close they were getting. A day that she had dreamed about was finally arriving. She had dreamed it so often, she felt a confusion of unreality imbue her senses as her cage rounded the final corner, and she fixed her eyes on him, finding his already fixed on her.
Her heart began to throb within her chest, and her limbs lost their strength. This was the only thing that had ever stolen her vitality from her, yet she could not recognize this as fear. This feeling was akin to the moment of sleep, when her mind could still perceive her surroundings, but her extremities were numb with weariness. She did not want this feeling overcoming her at this moment, and she fought it as much as possible.
So, when her cage door was opened, she did not move. He didn’t move either. Each was transfixed by the sight of the other. Silence descended upon the crowd that was gathered, as they became aware of the unusual atmosphere. Even the wind seemed to still. The trees and the rocks seemed to watch and listen. Like the calm before the storm, the electricity was palpable, and everyone knew that two mighty forces were about to meet.
In the distance, far in the jungle, someone began beating rhythmically upon a hollow log. A trace of a fierce smile came to her lips and a strange light came into his eyes.
She stepped down from her cage, and knew that she would never be caged again.
Dryness invaded his mouth as he watched her feet touch the ground. She walked toward him as if she were hunting, extending her feet so that the ball of her foot touched the ground before the heel did. He felt so much danger surround him that he became uncertain for the first time in his life, for no one had ever threatened him before in the way she threatened him now, and the feeling was unfamiliar. Yet, she did not rush at him. Her pace was even and gentle, but it had certainty and purpose that he could sense from where he stood. Her eyes never left him, and she circled him in a way that was familiar; a way that excited him, and he puzzled over it until he remembered being stalked while on a hunting expedition two summers ago. He felt a shiver go up his back, and a throb in his loins. The hairs on the back of his head stood up.
She was utterly wild, and they had let her out of her cage.
From her fingers, a white substance fell as she circled him, until a barrier surrounded them and kept those who watched from interfering. As she walked, those she brushed by quickly stepped back, out of her way, fearful of her intentions. She was surprised that a man so powerful had no guards around him ready to defend him from someone like her. Not even his priests had come forward to defend him from her. She felt a smile curl her lips, and her tongue darted out, licking her lips in anticipation.
She completed the circle without any interference. With a smooth turn of her foot, she brought her body around, charging it with the power she felt surging in through her feet, and faced him squarely. She reached into the waistband of her skirt and found in its tight folds what she needed. She filled her hand with the powder, and then brought it forth, extending her hand to him. She stood about ten feet away from him. The circle she had traced around him was twenty feet in diameter.
He watched her face intently and curled his hands into fists, not knowing what to expect. No woman had ever bested him. They were things to be used and discarded. He had seen their blood run from the hands of his priests many times. Their piteous screams had not moved him, nor caused him any horror. His power had easily stopped them if they tried attacking him. They were so much weaker than he was that he found their efforts to hurt him almost laughable. None had ever succeeded in overcoming him. The woman before him was no different. He noticed that she was taller than most, and not the most beauteous he had ever seen, yet she had a grace that fascinated everyone within her range
The distant beat in the jungle suddenly increased two-fold, and then just as suddenly, fell silent. In that silence, she bowed her head over her hand, her eyes upon him always, and blew the powder at him. He hadn’t been expecting that kind of attack, and as the powder fell onto him, he took a step back, his eyebrows drawn in an expression of consternation.
She waited a moment or two before the medicine took effect, then she strode up to him and placed her forefinger in the middle of his chest. He fell onto the ground like a plank. He could not break his fall. His eyes opened in surprise. He watched her approach. She put one foot on either side of his waist and looked down at him. She sat down on his smooth abdomen, settling her knees by his armpits. She leaned forward to look closely into his eyes. He could smell her skin.
She placed a hand on the ground on either side of his head. He could feel the heat from between her legs scorching him. He could feel her wiry hair prickling his smooth skin.
Can you hear my voice? But her lips did not move. His eyes became puzzled. It sounded like it was emanating from beneath him; from the Earth itself. He nodded.
I have sent this woman to you as a gift from me, the voice continued. Her swiftness is unmatched. Her strength is without peer. She can hunt the fiercest of creatures. I lend her my strength. I have placed my mark upon her, and this mark will be upon all my women from this time onward. Know this: you cannot catch her unless I allow you to catch her, and I will not allow you to catch her unless she wishes it. She has been secluded from men for nearly half of her life so that she might offer herself as a sacrifice upon your bloody altar. Your false religion has caused great strife to my body. The innocent blood that flows upon the stone of that altar cries out to me, and I have reached my limit.
The land will no longer bear fruit for you as it once did. From now on, you must struggle to obtain the things I once gave you without price. I will make of this place a great desert and a place of strife. It will be the focus of God Himself because of your iniquities against me. He will send His only Son, but even then the effects of your evil deeds will not be so quickly healed. It will be a very long time before this jungle will once again bloom here.
The voice was like a rumble beneath his back. The woman crouched above him hadn’t moved an inch, but continued peering into his face. Her head protected his unblinking eyes from the rays of the sun. He realized that she did this purposely, knowing he was unable to move.
She is yours, but the moment you make her yours, you will no longer want anyone else, and the moment she has become yours, she will leave this world. As you have taken my children from me, I will take her from you. You will find no rest except with your death.
In the place I found myself, a great tree, the largest I had ever seen before, sprung up from the ground near the place of death. Fifty people holding hands could not encompass its base. I had been looking down at the man on the ground below me, but my eyes were drawn to the marvel in the backdrop. It towered above the city (if one could call it a city) to unbelievable heights. I noticed green buds, full leaf, falling leaf, blooms and fruit, all at the same time.
A strange sense that the tree would never die fell upon me. I suddenly marveled, my attention no longer on the man below me. The crowds of people, I ignored. They posed no threat. I rose up and went to the base of the tree, needing to feel its smooth wood beneath my hand. Everyone made way for me as if I were the most dangerous beast they could imagine.
I was used to it. Ever since I had the tattoos embedded into my skin, everyone always made way for me. When I got to the base of the tree, however, one man, probably their shaman, stood before me, blocking the way. He wouldn’t let me past him, so I pushed him down, but I felt bad, since beneath my hands, I could feel his fragility. I paused and looked down at him, confused, hesitating. Why had he tried to stop me? Why wasn’t he repelled as the others were with the warding embedded in my tattoos? He hadn’t even flinched when my hands touched him.
Turning my attention back to the tree, now that it was within reach, it’s presence overwhelming, I found myself hesitating to touch it. It was a sacred thing to these people, to all people. I looked back the way I had come, everyone’s anxious expression upon me, yet a path between me and the man was cleared as if no one dared even touch the ground that I had walked on.
He was recovering from the white powder that I had blown onto him. Some of it circulated throughout my own blood, for I had held it in my hand for some time, but I was used to it. The Earth had shown me the things he would do to me, but I wasn’t afraid, because she gave me the strength to endure it. She compelled me to love him, so I couldn’t help it. Through her eyes, he was only a little boy, and I couldn’t help but see that, too. His eyes had stared up at me with the funniest expression when he heard her voice, I nearly laughed out loud.
At the thought of her, I became aware of her power beneath my feet. She did not slumber, she was alive, and I rode her, I could guide her on her course through the heavens if she let me. I closed my eyes, feeling her energy course up through my legs, through my lungs, up my throat: I threw back my head and let out a giant shout, summoning her to me, reveling in the wonder that was her. If joy could be heard, it was deep within that shout. I could feel the very foundation of the place tremble with the power that flowed through me. Not one of those present understood it. They were chained like prisoners to this man who had forced his will upon them.
I put my hand on my throat, trailing my palm down the strong slender column, feeling it vibrate with her unending vitality. I began the dance she taught me, my eyes half-closing with the memory of it. It was more than just a dance. It was the only words with which I had to speak to him, like the hunters did when they came back from the wilderness. I suddenly bent my body forward, extending my arms behind me; then sinuously moving them as I slowly brought my torso back up, continuing until my head nearly touched the ground behind me. Twisting, I trailed my fingers in a circle all around the spot that I stood upon.
As if on cue, the anonymous drummer somewhere in the middle distance began beating in time to my footsteps. Her energy was difficult to contain and focus. She had filled me to the brim with it, and I leapt and twirled in the air between the tree and where he lay. I could see that he was able to turn his head toward me. He was curious to see what I was doing, for the entire crowd had fallen silent to listen and watch something they had never before seen. They couldn’t believe how high I could jump nor how quickly my body twirled. Nor could I. I had never felt so much of her power within me, nor had I danced as I did with her power guiding me. I gave in to it unconditionally.
My feet landed solidly, a cloud of dust rising up. Imitating the stealth of the predator, the grace of the snake, I danced around him. I could leap and nearly fly, using his body as my focal point, I flipped over him again and again, the breeze of my passing, the energy from my body raking across his skin. The effect of my tattoos as I spun my body had to be mesmerizing. She held him prisoner and let him watch me flaunt the strength and flexibility with which she had endowed me. More drums beat in the distance, speaking to one another. The land became dim from the clouds that gathered as I danced. In mid air, I twisted, arms tucked in, legs extended, hanging above him, penetrating his gaze with one of my own full of extreme joy. He saw me the way men saw things they had to hunt.
He did not desire me yet, only now, as a challenge, a trophy. I did not know the words the Earth had spoken to him, but I knew that what I was doing was like the continuation of it. I wanted to run. I could see he wanted to chase.
I hit the ground in sudden silence and stillness. The cloud of dust settled around me and I crouched before him, watching as she released him from her encompassing grip. I could feel his gaze slant across my skin taking in its satiny sheen. I could feel a smile stretch across my mouth in anticipation. Diana could not have felt so confident as I did at that moment. I could sense his excitement, smell his arousal; I could see his muscles gather under his skin like a lion gathers itself to pounce on its dinner. He took a step toward me, and I felt that weakness I had earlier experienced, and that strange arrow of fear and excitement threatened to decrease my strength.
Again, I quickly summoned her power, feeling it travel into my body, and as if someone shouted: Go!, we both started running at full tilt. I spun around, the dust kicking up behind me. The entire crowd sucked in its breath. I leapt upward, landing on top of the cage they had brought me in. My foot merely glanced on it, propelling me forward down the path, and he was hot on my heels, having to circle the obstacle.
The chase was on. I leapt, I dodged, I flipped and twisted my body along the uneven pathway, through the crowds….I made my way toward the sea. Once there, I knew that he couldn’t touch me. No one could. But at the last minute, having to dodge around a small family, my course was diverted. I sprang to the side, veering off into the winding paths between the towering trees. I saw immediately that this path would not take me where I wanted to go. Instead, it was herding me in a direction I knew was dangerous.
I paused, breathing heavily and looked back, knowing that he couldn’t possibly have kept up. But I saw that he was closer than I thought he could be. Just down the path, stopping to see which direction I had taken, his eyes locked with mine. For a moment, my heart became still, and everything around me dimmed. I could only see him at the end of a long dark tunnel. I remembered the dreams I had of him, starting many seasons ago, the same dream, on the altar of sacrifice, his body covering mine, the unrelenting stone beneath my back. It left me weak.
He took advantage of my temporary immobility and surged toward me, coming so close, I could see the intent in his eyes. He was a hunter. I shook myself awake, shook off the daydream, and sprinted away.
I felt his hand on my ankle and I fell to the ground. My breath came out in gasps. I kept getting distracted by that dream. Did I want to feel his body covering mine? Did I finally get to feel a man overcome me with his energy as my people had denied me for many years? Was that urge more powerful than staying alive? Was it more important than the sacred tree of life?
A weakness enveloped me and I clawed at the loam, trying to dislodge his grip.
I could sense that he still did not desire me. The tattoos still had the power to repel and disgust, but the sensation of his hand on my skin was electrifying. I could feel the calloused palm, its strength, its heat, its intention. I was aware that my backside was open to his attack, and I did not like it, yet the weakness still continued traveling up my legs. I cried out in rage and frustration, and tried to draw the Earth’s strength from underneath my hands and knees. I could feel her power just below the surface. It was receding, and for the first time in my life, I felt the hope recede within the center of my being.
I could no longer call upon her.
We were in the clearing in front of the place of blood and death. No one else was there except the two of us. I feared that the act of consummation between us would render the entire landscape into one of absolute desolation. I could feel it within my heart, but my bones were starting to melt against his strength and determination. I quickly flipped over, feeling my ankle twist painfully, and lashed at his face with my free foot. The edge of my foot brushed the tip of his nose, then he caught it with a speed I had not expected or seen before.
Now I lay before him, each of my feet imprisoned by his hands. I sat up and delivered a punch square in his face, but my hand met a barrier. I could see his eyes close in anticipation of the hurt, but I could not force my fist any farther forward.
The dirt I had landed on obliterated the swirling art all around my body. The warding was fading off. This was not good. I looked into his eyes, fearing for the first time in my life. I realized at once that I had hidden behind the tattoos. They had protected me. Now the barrier was gone.
Maybe it was the look in my eye. Maybe it was the obscured tattoos. His demeanor changed, and he came closer, his palms running up my shins to my kneecaps. In his touch, I could feel his wonder awaken. Again, I tried with all my might to deliver a punch. Again, he flinched, but didn’t move, and again, I met a soft barrier that stopped my fist a finger’s width from his face. I pulled back my hand and began struggling, trying to dislodge his touch, but I felt his fingers dig painfully into my knees.
I lay down passively, not knowing what to do; just feeling his hands push my resisting knees apart. My breath came quickly. My heart pounded painfully. I watched him advance slowly, his knees in the dirt between mine, his hands traveling slowly up my thighs. He must be able to feel my entire body trembling beneath his touch. I locked my gaze on his face, as I had gazed into the face of a predator moments before it had mauled me. Unbidden tears gathered at the edge of my eyes due to this sudden helplessness. I fought them off. How many tears had he seen, and his heart had not been moved? How many other thighs had he parted, and not felt them tremble beneath his hands? How I hated him! How much worse I hated myself!
I forced my breath to slow. I relaxed every muscle in my body. I closed my eyes. I was doing something wrong. She wouldn’t have abandoned me otherwise. Beneath my back, I searched for her presence. I sensed her far beneath me; farther than she had ever been from me. What do I do? I entreated her with all my soul. What is it that you want me to do? I felt a kind of bewilderment at her silence, yet no animosity.
She was waiting, I suddenly realized: Like the stillness before an earthquake; like the calm before the storm. My stomach twisted and I felt as if I would vomit; yet there was nothing there to bring up. I opened my eyes, and he was looking at my face, his hands having traveled upward to my belt (honestly, it was too small to qualify as a skirt). His curious fingers found how to remove it, and I had nothing. Whatever she had told him kept him from ravaging me at once, I was sure of it. When I looked at his face, there was no evil, no twisted, arrogant selfish boy. He looked at every inch of my body, feeling it beneath his hands. In places, he had brushed off the soil and exposed the tattoos.. Perhaps he had never felt such a toned hard body? I doubted it. There were many hard-working people in the land I had come from. My body wasn’t unusual, except in its abbreviated dimensions.
I felt his hands reach my ribs, his fingers tracing the bone beneath my skin, feeling my breath rapidly increase, whether out of fear, or some other unknown emotion, I couldn’t tell. Fear was much like this.
Then his fingers reached my scar. I could sense his question, but I had no way to tell him of the creature that had done this to me. The fingers of his other hand slid slowly around the shape of my breast, when I felt the touch of them on my nipple, it stiffened at once, and a strange sensation traveled down into my body. It wasn’t as if I had accidentally brushed against it myself. It had done that before. It was the way he was touching it, like electricity in the air between heaven and earth, that’s how it was between his fingers and my breast. He looked at me suddenly, and I guess because I must have gasped or drew in my breath. I froze at the expression in his eyes.
His knee pressed against where my legs joined my body, and the heat from his skin against me was something I did not recoil from, although I thought that I ought to. He seemed to like the wiry feel of my hair against his knee, for he pressed it a little harder against me. At the same time, he planted one palm against the ground beside my shoulder, and leaned close to me. Close enough to feel the heat from his skin against mine, but not close enough to brush against. He pulled away, and then he did it again, watching my face; his eyes alight with interest, bringing his face within an inch of mine, this time, his nose nearly touching my neck, his breath tickling me.
He was curious. He obviously wanted to do something, I don’t know what, (Kiss me? Bite me?), but was stopping himself from doing it. I turned my head to his, not liking his teeth so close to that unprotected, defenseless area, and found my lips brush against his. I pulled my head back at once, but he pursued, sinking his body slowly beside mine, pulling his knee against me, and putting his fingers on my jaw so that I couldn’t turn my face away from his.
Why was he behaving like this? Why wouldn’t he just ravage me as he had the others? I wondered, feeling his lips tentatively touch my own. I tried withdrawing again, but he put his hand around my neck, his fingers barging into my hair, and placed his lips on mine as if trying to suck nectar from a flower. I admit, it was a strange sensation, since I hadn’t expected anything pleasant from him, and I found, against my own determination, a curiousity growing about what he was doing and the effect it had on my body.
He suddenly drew away from me and stood up, his erection in full view. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. It was the largest member I had ever seen. I had an inkling of the problem he had. What woman could withstand him? He looked around, and then I heard it too: distant shouts and the sound of feet running.
Several young men burst into the clearing, but stopped short when they saw us, taking in the situation with their curious eyes. He spoke to them imperiously, and they meekly, hesitantly, came forward. They knelt down beside me and proceeded to try lifting me away, presumably to take me as an offering to their stone god. However, they could not budge me in any way, and he shouted at them, wondering at their ineffectual efforts.
Finally, he shoved them off, and bent down to pick me up. He lifted me with ease, and I felt a shock run through my body at the feel of his warm skin against mine. I looked up into his face, and found that he was already looking into mine, the same expression echoed in his features.
They forced me to drink something that tasted absolutely vile. I gagged on it, but found that several moments later, my body became languid, pliant, and my mind became unconcerned. As if from a distance, I observed what they did as they prepared for the ritual.
It was evening, and torches were lit all around the area. The slightest breeze made shadows seem alive, and to my distorted senses, I couldn’t tell if they weren’t real. I turned my attention to the sky above me, which I could see through the branches. Stars dotted the velvet black with shimmering glitters like the sun on the tips of each wave on the sea. They lay me on an altar, but it was not the altar of blood and death. It was where he tested his victims. Through the rock under my back, I could sense the residual pain and terror of countless women and virgins.
Several people surrounded me, and began lathing my body with a strange-smelling unguent. With leather thongs, they tied my wrists securely, although I already lay quite placidly from the effects of the drug that coursed through my veins. Their hands heated my skin, and I felt myself aroused by their ministrations, their fingers probing and curious. They tied my ankles so that I could not move or escape if I wanted to, and still their hands stroked my body. Then I tasted lips on mine, and felt lips on my neck, and lips on my abdomen and lips at my breast. I could smell the arousal of women around me, and became aware of others forming a circle at the edges of the room.
I noticed him now, with many women around him, stroking his body, anointing it with the same unguent. I could see his arousal, and I thought that I should try to close my legs or something, but just didn’t care. Somewhere I felt some sorrow that he had resorted to this method of love. So many must have simply screamed and run away at the sight of him. The women who knelt in front of him placed their hands on him until it was entirely covered by their hands, then they squeezed and stroked him until he began to moan in the back of his throat.
On the perimeter, I noticed couples joining in unsynchronized movement, their moans of pleasure and their loud breathing the backdrop to this strange scene. I looked back at the distant night sky and felt something slide into my body. It was cold and narrow, and I closed my eyes as it was driven into the depths until it came to a standstill. Someone’s fingers, holding the stick, also plunged in, and I heard her gasp, nearly loosing grip on the thing she had put into me.
I heard his voice, questioning her, and her reply. Everyone in the place became still and I could feel their eyes on us. He came forward, and she skittered away, leaving what she had inserted into me. Then his fingers pushed in, touching the end of the long narrow stick. He grasped it between two fingers and drew it out, watching its entire length removed from inside of me. He looked at it for a moment, then looked at my body laid out before him. He snapped the stick in two, using only his three middle fingers.
Funny how my mind picked up on these stupid details.
With one tersely spoken word, everyone that had stood around us backed off. The room was absolutely quiet except for the sound of burning torches. I felt his hands warmly grip my waist. I felt his presence between my legs, the slick head of his throbbing penis pressing against the slick well of my vulva. I thought that this was going to happen quickly, but he paused, and I think that I saw fear in his eyes, but he was already at a point where he was shaking. Whatever battle raged within him, I could only guess had something to do with the words she had spoken to him.
For a moment, I looked through eye-slits at his face, memorizing the planes of it: his nose, the slant of his cheeks, the sensual curve of his lower lip, the piercing glance of his dark eyes, the form of his eyebrow above each. I noticed how his forehead gleamed, catching the moonlight. I looked at the way his hair framed it, and how the closer tendrils stuck to it in black curls, even though the rest of it was fine and straight. How did he get it so smooth?
I closed my eyes.
Everyone in the place watched as he sank his never-before encompassed shaft deep into my receptive channel. I couldn’t help but writhe, my thighs trembling, my back arching, trying to meet his thrust, yet held back by the drugs and the strips of leather. I cried out, finally over all the anticipation, not caring anymore that it meant my death. Once he realized that he could go as far as he wanted, he started used all of his vigor, lancing into my body, not caring that at least fifty people were watching. He moaned and grunted and cried out loud, his grip on me tightening painfully.
Our bodies had been meticulously prepared, and his thrusts brought nothing but the most pleasant arousing and satisfying delight. But for him, he would never again experience such satisfaction, for he looked down on my face, and saw a thin rivulet of blood start from my nose. I had a funny taste in my mouth, and I faintly realized that it was my own blood. I felt weary, tired; peaceful. As if I was being rocked to sleep. I closed my eyes.
