AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for the very kind comments on the first installment of this story! Amidst the mess that is my life, I was able to find time to write this one very quickly (although -- alas! -- not before I had done three whole-story revisions! Daphne's very short story proves to be quite difficult to write down.. xD). Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed revising it to this final version! ^_^
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The light of the candle beside the bed began to flicker, creating strange shadows in the interior of Leander Van Halen's tent. The candle was almost out, and the flame that consumed it seemed to do its final dance -- vigorous, full of life: a victory dance as it melted away the wax, mocking the prisoner that freely paced back and forth at the foot of the bed.
Daphne tried to calm herself -- just enough to think clearly. She needed to get out of here, to escape from the general who showed her what pleasure is and then threatened to show her pain. But how would she do it? General Van Halen ordered the guards outside to guard the tent well and to kill a woman from her village for every escape attempt that Daphne would do.
'Perhaps...' she thought, as she once again sat on the edge of the bed, 'perhaps I should stay.'
At least, here, Daphne knew she was safe. Nobody would dare enter the tent of Leander Van Halen without permission from the general. Nobody would harm her, knowing that she was under Van Halen's protection.
But, what about the general? Would he really protect her? Would he not hurt her?
Daphne did not know. She did not want to trust him, believing that he only whispered promises of not hurting her to convince her to give up her virginity to him. He would be as brutal as the men who had taken the women from her village. He would force her to give herself to him and then throw her away when he had finished with her, or else share her with the other soldiers in his camp.
At that thought, Daphne shivered. No, she did not want to be a common whore. Her dignity was all that she had left; she could not let it crumble at the face of this predicament.
She looked at the candle when the vigorous dance once again started. Daphne hated the dark, but she knew very well that the guards would think she was trying to escape if she made a move to the entrance of the tent, and no amount of explanation would make them understand.
Feeling defeated, Daphne crawled to the bed, covering herself with the blanket just as the light finally died out. As darkness embraced her, Daphne hugged her knees to her chest. She closed her eyes, praying for sleep, but instead, memories of the past few hours crept into her mind.
Daphne moaned as she remembered the way Leander had held her as they were travelling to the camp, the way he teased her by stroking her breast, promising her more pleasure tonight.
Tonight! Daphne balled up, burying her face on her knees. Leander stayed true to his words. He showed her pleasure like she had never known before. Even now, Daphne could feel his hands stroking her body, warming her in an odd way. She could feel his mouth, hot and wet, trailing across her skin, sending tingles down her spine, sending fire through her blood stream, concentrating on her crotch, building and building...
Hot tears flowed from Daphne's eyes as she caught herself thinking back on that brief episode earlier. Why was her body reacting even to the memories of his touch, of his kiss? Even without touching it, Daphne knew that she was already wet -- down there where Leander had used his mouth and finger to tease her to an orgasm.
Frustrated at herself, Daphne tossed around on the bed, for once grateful that her only companion was darkness. It irked her to realize that she longed for his touch, for the pleasure he could give. She wiped her tears away angrily.
'How could you?' she chided herself. 'How could you, how could you, how could you? Enjoy his touch? Long for it? Wish that you never stopped him? What is wrong with you?'
Restless, she sat up on the bed, tears of frustration once stinging her eyes. Daphne bit at her lower lip, drawing blood, in order to drive away those tears.
"Stupid, stupid girl!" she whispered, covering her face with her hands. "Why? How?"
As she sat there, she could not deny the ache she was feeling on her cunt. She gingerly touched it, quickly drawing back her hand when she felt her own wetness. He caused this -- thoughts of him caused this. Daphne's face burned in shame.
With a shaky sigh, she dropped herself to bed again, staring up and seeing nothing but darkness. She was convinced that she was losing her mind, telling herself that she could not want him -- not this way. She was not allowed to. He was the general who destroyed everything that she loved, took away everything that she had; she could not give in to her own desire for him.
