Tale Of Obsession Courting Daphne Ch 01

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is told in third person limited, as opposed to first person, mainly because I wanted to challenge myself to write using a point of view that I am not used to. I could only hope that it is not a very great disaster (heehee... xD). All forms of critique are welcome. ^_^

Chapter 02: Courting Daphne

The air was reeking with the smell of death, and cries of children who newly lost their parents could be heard from the surrounding villages, given of course that there were still inhabitants on the surrounding vicinity. Wherever the eye looked, there were sights of hell to behold: houses burning, young boys dragging corpses to a single pile, young girls being dragged to wagons of slave-drivers.

What held Daphne's attention, though, was a scene taking place under a tree near the only well on their land. Three warriors were busily taking care of one of the village maids. Alicia, if she remembered the name correctly. She was a very fine-looking woman, about twenty or twenty-one.

Right now, Alicia's hands were being tied behind her. Fat tears rolled down her face as she once more cried out for the men to stop or for somebody to help her. One of the men struck her face, drawing blood out of her nose. Another ripped off her dress, and gagged her with a piece of the torn cloth.

Alicia looked desperate, but no amount of her struggling would ever be successful, for the men who held her were seasoned warriors serving the general who attacked their village. The three of them laughed and cheered at the sight of the distraught woman. One of them ran his palms on the smooth, creamy breasts now exposed to their eyes; Alicia let out a cry muffled by the gag on her mouth.

As Daphne looked on, one of the men took off his pants, and out dangled his erect member. Alicia's eyes widened as she saw it, too, and the woman struggled harder to get away from her captors. But two men were still restraining her, and there was nothing she could do as the first man spread her legs wide and licked her sex.

At that point, Daphne looked away. She could not watch anymore. She knew what was happening as she heard Alicia's muffled screams and the men's raucous laughter.

'It will happen to all of us,' she thought as she closed her eyes, trying to control her fear from taking over.

Just a few minutes ago, Alicia had been sitting beside Daphne, with hands and feet tied just like everybody else's. One of the three men spotted the fair Alicia and grabbed her while calling to two of his companions.

After a while, Daphne could not hear Alicia's muffled screams anymore. She looked back at the scene of the crime. The first man was now one of the two who held Alicia, while a second man was driving his cock in and out of the woman's body. Alicia's tears were still flowing from her eyes, but she has stopped struggling. She was only looking to where Daphne and the other young women were tied up, her eyes two mirrors of pain and humiliation.

All around her, the other women were already starting to cry, but Daphne's eyes remained dry. She watched as the second man finished with Alicia and the third man took his turn. A fourth soldier saw what his companions were doing and cheered them on while he himself grabbed a woman with the intention of satisfying his lust.

One by one, soldiers came pouring from every direction, picking up women from the bunch where Daphne belonged. Each time a soldier approached, Daphne prayed that he would not choose her, and each time somebody walked past her, she offered a prayer of gratitude that she was inside a house when it started to burn, thus causing soot to cover her whole body.

Yet, a drunk soldier stopped in front of her and looked her up and down, grinning at what he saw. He grabbed her roughly so that she stood on her feet, running his hands down Daphne's arms.

"Ye look as black as coal with the soot covering ye like this, but trained eyes do not fail to see the great body beneath this filth," he murmured, grinning at her lewdly. "I daresay ye will grace my bed tonight."

Daphne shook her head, shaking with fear. The last thing she wanted was to involve herself with a man such as this. But she knew she had no chance of fighting; she was at his mercy.

The man started caressing her body, when the sound of a horn was heard, and men in horseback came thundering down where soldiers and women captives were. To Daphne's gratefulness, one of the horsemen struck the drunk warrior's head with his foot, thus rendering the man unconscious.

Her eyes followed the man who saved her. He and the other horsemen stopped in the middle of the clearing, and at the sight of them, the soldiers stopped their lustful preoccupations and stood at attention.

The man took off his helmet to reveal a raggedly handsome face topped with long, black mane. His blue eyes wandered from soldier to soldier, and narrowed when he guessed what had been going on.

Daphne's blood turned cold when she saw his face. That, his great black horse, and his black armour told her that the man who saved her was none other than General Leander Van Halen, the man who led the army of soldiers who destroyed their village. These soldiers who violated the women were his men.

"We are moving," he said in a loud voice. "Take the women and bring them to where the wagons are. We do not want to spend the night amidst rotting corpses."

With that, he urged his horse to turn back to where they came from. His eyes found Daphne as he did so. Daphne stared as the general sent his horse walking towards her.

"Soldier, untie her," Leander Van Halen ordered one of the men standing close, nodding to Daphne. "In fact, untie all the women."

His order was followed, and when all the women were untied, he ordered the men to start their march. With swords and spears pointed at their backs, the women of the village had no choice but to march with them. Without awaiting orders, the other horsemen followed the marching band of foot soldiers and women, leaving the general and Daphne behind with only the fallen drunk soldier and the pile of corpses as company.

The general studied her as she stood trembling, looking at him with terrified eyes. Daphne did not know what to do. She wanted to run away from him, but she knew that she would not last long without company. Either she would fall on the hands of other men or she would die on the hands of other warriors.

"I have nowhere to go," she found herself telling the man with him.

The general dismounted from his horse. "I am not leaving you here."

Daphne felt relieved, and looked at the unconscious soldier at her feet. Leander followed her gaze and spoke.

"I do not need another drunkard in my ranks. As it is, there are already way too many."

Daphne nodded, tearing her eyes off the soldier so that she could look at the general. Van Halen was looking at her intently, studying her soot-covered face with so much intensity that left Daphne feeling self-conscious.

"You are beautiful," he said in wonder after a while, stepping close to Daphne, who stepped away instinctively, making the general grin in amusement. "You will be my companion when we arrived at the camp."

Daphne nodded even though she did not know exactly what he meant. Having lived a sheltered life up until her aunt died about half a year ago, she knew almost nothing of the ways of the world.

Without warning, Leander held her by the waist and swung her on to his warhorse, earning a terrified shriek from Daphne. He then joined her atop the horse, sitting behind her and winding an arm around her waist while the other sought the reins.

"What is your name, woman?" he asked as he urged the horse to start moving.

Daphne swallowed, feeling as if her heart had already jumped up to her throat. In spite of what she knew and what she thought she should feel, the warmth radiating from Leander's body was causing her to feel secured. All the fear she reined in earlier seemed to suddenly wrack her body, only to leave her shivering while the great general of the Army of the Black Wolves held her against his chest.

Unfamiliar heat coursed through her body. She was acutely aware of his arm around her, resting just below her breasts. His masculine scent reached her senses, causing strange reactions on her body.

"Daphne," she whispered in a slightly trembling voice.

"Daphne." The sound of his voice pronouncing her name floated like music to her ears. "A beautiful name."

She closed her eyes, now growing more afraid of and mad at her feelings than at the man who took her. She felt his thumb gently stroking the side of her breast, and Daphne had to bite her lips in order not to moan aloud.

As if knowing what was happening, Leander moved his hand over to Daphne's breast and began stroking it. Her nipple hardened under his touch, and a shaky sigh escaped her lips. Feeling helpless, Daphne leaned back against him, fearing the desire that spread through her body at that moment. She turned her head and looked at the general to find him looking at her.

"Tonight, sweet Daphne," he promised in a whisper, smiling down at her. "Tonight."

*****

The camp of Van Halen's army was a makeshift settlement in the valley to the north of Daphne's village. It surrounded a river, making it easier for the men and horses to survive. Together with the soldiers came several camp followers, whose only role in life seemed to provide sexual pleasure to high-ranked warriors, including the general himself.

Daphne was given to two of those followers, who were ordered to bathe her and give her fresh clothes. Upon acting on these orders, the followers then led her to the tent of the general.

The first thing that entered Daphne's mind when she saw the interior of the tent was that it was even more luxurious than the house she used to live in with her aunt. It had a bed, couches, and even a carpet set atop the grass. Everything that could be used to provide comfort to the general was brought into his tent.

Knowing not what to do, Daphne curled up on a couch, grabbing the quilt to cover herself. The two women dressed her up in a dress that revealed way too much of her skin than she was comfortable exposing, and she did not want Leander to see her in it.

She did not plan on dozing off, but the softness of the couch beneath her and the scent of the perfume around her almost immediately sent her to a dreamless sleep.

Daphne only woke up when she felt strong arms gently lifting her up from the couch. Even without opening her eyes, she recognized who it was. It was not only because she was aware that nobody would dare enter the general's tent without permission, but also because she recognized his manly scent.

Leander was already half-naked, as Daphne found out when she opened her eyes and looked up. He had lain her down on his bed. She could feel his eyes studying her, but right at that moment, all she could do was stare at his exposed body and marvel at it. Broad, powerful shoulders led down to well-muscled chest, which in turn led down to narrow hips. The light of the candles beside the bed lent a bronze cast on his skin, making some of his battle scars more apparent, some less so.

Daphne swallowed. He radiated power, manliness, security...and she longed to be held by his arms. The force of her yearning struck her, and made her recoil in fear, if only within. She remembered the way the warriors had held Alicia, remembered the way they violated her, and she feared that this man would be as cruel as the others.

Her heart was drumming wildly inside her chest, and Daphne had to take a deep breath in order to calm down. She could smell wine on his breath, driving her to greater panic as she remembered the man Leander struck down earlier. Did he rescue her in order to have her himself? Was he going to be like them, too? Was that what being his companion mean?

At that moment, Leander spoke. "Daphne, look at me."

She tried not to obey his command. She did not want to see the wild lust and hunger in his eyes. It would remind her of the warriors who took the innocence of more than one woman in her village. She would rather believe that the general was not one of them, than see the proof that he was.

Yet his touch on her face had none of the violence she expected. It was a caress that sent her body shivering, her blood running hot through her veins. Desire struck her anew, driving her heartbeat wilder still.

"Look at me, my sweet," Leander said again as he bent down and touched her forehead with his lips. "I won't hurt you, Daphne."

In spite of what her head was saying, Daphne looked at Leander. He flashed her a gentle smile -- something that she had never seen from anybody since her aunt died. It melted her heart.

"I won't hurt you," the general repeated, touching her lips. "Believe me."

Even before she could take her next breath, his lips came down to capture hers in a slow, passionate kiss. Daphne felt his hands gently stroking her arms, his fingers tracing lines of fire through her skin. She did not know what to make of it, but she was certain she did not want him to stop.

Slowly, Leander's lips left hers alone and journeyed to the rest of her face. His breathing was becoming ragged, as Daphne knew that hers was. His hands continued to explore her body, touching, caressing through the flimsy dress she was wearing.

She did not know how to respond to his advances, so Daphne ended up clutching the sheets of the bed. She was afraid to touch him -- this powerful god who brought war to her village and left it in ruins.

She closed her eyes. Leander's lips have now travelled close to her ears, and he was gently licking her earlobe. A gasp escaped her lips when she felt that first contact. Upon hearing that sound, Leander groaned, his hands and lips travelling lower down Daphne's body.

Leander began kissing her neck, licking her smooth skin from time to time, gently biting when he could not get enough of her. Daphne moaned, unfamiliar with the sensations that assaulted her body. She tilted her head in order to give the man better access to her neck, while his hands started caressing her breasts, playing with her hard nipples through the fabric of her dress.

Daphne was starting to panic even as her body melted with desire. She knew that what she was feeling was wrong. She knew that what Leander was doing was something that only a husband should do to his wife. Everything that was going on was not right.

"Touch me, Daphne," came Leander's hoarse whisper as he pulled up the hem of Daphne's dress.

He took her hand and guided it first to his lips, looking straight into Daphne's eyes. Her hands trembled as she touched his lips, his face, his hair. The colours of their skin contrasted under the candlelight: his was darkened by the sun, hers was still white as milk.

Daphne let her hands travel down to Leander's neck, fascinated by the touch of his body. He was all hard muscles; she was all soft curves. She had never touched a man's body and the newness of the experience did not fail to mesmerize her.

When her hands reached his chest, she paid careful attention to the scars that marred his skin. Some were small, but others were not. She let her fingers trace the lines of the particularly large ones, unable to imagine how deep the wounds that caused them were. And instead of making her recoil, those scars only served to make her more interested in exploring his body.

As her hands moved to the side of Leander's body, intending to feel his back, the general bent down and nipped at the side of Daphne's neck. She shivered in response, closing her eyes when she felt the hem of her dress being pushed higher and higher up her body, until the skin from her chest downwards was revealed.

Leander moved his head downwards and captured one of her nipples in his mouth, gently licking the tip, teasing it more. Daphne moaned, arching her body towards him. Her hands found his hair and tugged gently. Her head was telling her to stop Leander, but her whole body was delighted at his attentions, and she felt helpless against the force of her desire.

More whimpers and moans escaped her lips as Leander lightly bit her nipple, while his hand pinched the other, rolling it between his fingers. Daphne felt as if her blood turned to liquid fire, making a pool at her crotch, making her cunt ache. It was almost a relief when she felt Leander's hand caressing her down there, parting her lips as he sought her clit.

"God..." Daphne groaned, unable to resist as Leander parted her legs to give himself more access to her pearl.

When he found the nub of her pleasure and began stroking it, Daphne let out a cry and hooked her legs around his waist. A groan sounded deep in his chest, conveying the immense pleasure that the young woman's move gave him. To reward her, he moved lower down her body and began licking at her folds, paying close attention to her swollen clit.

Daphne cried out, but whether it was from shame or pleasure, she was not sure. She knew she was not supposed to let him do this to her, but her body was loving everything he did, and her will to stop him was too weak to win.

She felt one of his fingers slowly circling the entryway of her sex as he began gently sucking on her clit. Daphne released his hair and instead opted to clutch as the sheets, for she knew she would end up hurting him if he continued what he was doing.

Leander continued to lick at her folds, his saliva mixing with the juices that came freely flowing out of Daphne's sex. Taking his time, he slid his finger into her hole, her juices making it an easy feat. Daphne bit her lower lip and closed her eyes tightly, praying to whatever god was listening that she would find the strength to resist Leander's advances soon, before she gives up all that she has to a man she barely knew.

But given the way that her body was responding, it seemed to her that her prayer would be left unheard.

As Daphne felt a bit of pain inside her where Leander's finger was, Leander stopped the invasion and moaned, causing sweet sensations to flow from where his mouth met with her mound. In no time at all, she was writhing beneath him as a sweet, deep pleasure took over her whole body and left her breathless in its wake.

"My sweet Daphne," groaned Leander as he looked up at her. "I was hoping you're still untouched."

She blushed. There had been men who attempted to claim her innocence, but Daphne had always seemed to be under the protection of the heavens -- until the moment the Army of the Black Wolves descended upon their village and destroyed everything she loved.

The memory of that painful moment seemed to become what she needed to extinguish the fire of desire from her body. At the thought of the horror the troops of Leander Van Halen left behind, Daphne felt as if icy cold water was thrown over her, so that when Leander moved over her and began kissing her mouth, she was able to say no.

Leander froze when he heard her. "What?"

"I said no," Daphne whispered, turning her head away from him and refusing to look straight into his eyes. "Just stop."

The general growled his displeasure and disappointment, but made her face him so that he could kiss her mouth again. Daphne could taste herself in his lips, taste the salty sweet essence of her sex as his tongue darted into her mouth. She felt his manhood pressing against her stomach, sending her to panic.

God, she did not want him to do to her what the soldiers had done to Alicia! She heard the woman's muffled screams, saw the way Leander's warriors violated her, saw the blood that oozed from between Alicia's thighs. No, she did not want to suffer that kind of humiliation and feel that kind of pain. No...

"Stop it!" she wailed, pushing as hard as she could against his chest just as Leander was starting to kiss her down the neck again. "Get off me!"