The Crusaders Prize

The looting had delayed the march towards Jerusalem by a few days, but in Sir Leoric's opinion, it was unreasonable to ask men to await all their rewards in heaven when they were available immediately on earth. The crusade would be all the better for his wealth, with gold to hire more footsoldiers and to keep his current ones happy. And of course, there were immediate benefits to be enjoyed, he thought with an amused glance at the maiden currently bound and slung across his saddle. He'd plucked that lovely flower from the streets of the burning city, as she had tried and failed to flee the victorious army. In her previous life, she had been confined to the Jewish quarter, but now she joined with those Christian women who had once considered themselves her betters, all of them now divided up among the rest of the loot and ranked only by their beauty.

When a city refuses hospitality to crusaders, it relinquishes all rights to mercy.

With the tents having been set for the night, he at last had time to pay attention to his unwilling guest. He lifted her gently off of where she lay and brought her to the ground, and allowed her a few moments of wriggling in her ropes to realize that she wouldn't get anywhere.

"So eager to leave me?" he asked. "You attracted a fair bit of attention, you know. I had more than one brother in arms offer gold to take you for his own."

"Monsters!" the maiden snarled. "All of you, nothing but monsters!"

Leoric continued as if he hadn't heard her.

"It is not a bad life, being the mistress of a great knight like myself. You'll travel with us in comfort, once I can trust you not to run, and I'll adorn you with fine cloth and jewels-"

"Things you've stolen! Things you've killed for!" She wriggled again, and Leoric did not mind seeing her curves sway beneath the ropes. In fact, it brought his attention to the few remaining scraps of clothing still covering his prize, and he had an easy job rectifying that and baring her form entirely. Her bronze eyes and dark auburn hair gleamed in the evening firelight.

"What shall I call you?" he mused. "The finest whores are often given new names to suit their station."

"Bastard!" she cried. "My name is Rachel, and I am not your whore!"

"Rachel? That will do for now, I suppose."

Leoric silenced her with a kiss, which she could not pull away from despite her struggling. The sounds of camp, even the cries of other prisoners, faded away in the joy of her soft lips against his. A wife might be bedded for money, land, children or to settle differences between families, but a mistress may be taken for pure desire. He ran his hands down Rachel's body, so fetchingly presented to him by her bonds, and pulled her hair loose from the last remnants of her braid. Leoric knew he had to have her now, before waiting drove him mad. He removed his dagger and cut away the ropes about her legs, but she could not stand and flee while he held her down.

Rachel whispered words in her own language that must have been prayers when she saw him undo his belt, but as far as he could see, the heavens had already blessed her- she could have been seized as a prize by a man twice her age and carrying the pox, and she had been delivered instead to a shining, golden-haired knight. He reminded her of this, his voice gently chiding, as he climbed on top of her.

"I am not so terrible, am I?" he asked. She did not answer, but gasped as his bare flesh touched hers. With a soft groan, he pushed his way inside her, and her sweet warmth was all that he could desire and more. "I will treat you well," he murmured, "for you are a treasure not to be wasted." This did not seem to soothe her, but there was nothing she could do about it.

Leoric rode her at a leisurely pace, not wanting to break her beneath him or to waste his own pleasure. He kissed her full breasts, her elegant neck, her graceful shoulders, and although she never stopped protesting, he thought he heard a change in her moans and the way she bucked beneath him. He smiled at this, but granted the girl her pride and said nothing of it.

"Yes, he sighed, "take me, feel me buried inside you, take my cock and know that you belong to me!"

He could not hold out forever, pressed inside such luscious flesh, and at last Leoric spent himself inside Rachel and fully possessed her. He kissed her again, and she was now too wearied to turn away from him. He was wearied himself, and spent a moment or two lying on the ground beside her, wistful despite his satisfaction. It was a shame that she had to weep, but he was sure her sorrow would not last long.

"Rachel," Leoric sighed. He would not change her name after all, he decided, for she responded with a beautiful shudder to hear him say it.

"I hate you!" she said in response, but he did not let her bait him into anger. He'd enjoyed himself far too much to be a petty tyrant to his beautiful captive. Indeed, he pitied any wife he might take in the future, for he knew his mistress would take all his attention, journeying beside him on crusade or placed in a fine lodging back home.

For now, he placed his cloak over her naked form, and pulled the rest of his own clothing to rights. There were other matters to be attended to, other spoils to be divided, journeys to chart and battles to plan, and it would not do to linger all night like a distracted lover.

Even as Leoric made his way towards his brothers in arms, though, she was all that he could think of.