The Savage Ing

I've always known I'd be queen some day. However, I never thought my life would turn out like this. Stolen from my castle in a stealthy siege, the Savage King Tor had silently murdered his way to my bedroom that fateful night and taken what he believed was rightfully his--me.

I was his queen now; queen of a violent, male-dominated society that took what they wanted, no matter the consequences. And in this society, how were women treated? Oddly, according to Tor, both revered and used. That's how the savage king's people thought of women.

The concept of a rational, civilized marriage was not a thought the savage king was capable of understanding. His people were nomadic with raiding tendencies. Tor said that his people took one wife and selected her carefully. Though, the men were welcome to as many as women as they wanted; only one woman would be his true wife and sleep beside him in a sacred position.

The men would take by force if necessary. They claimed what they wanted with a primitive passion.

Days ago, the savage king had claimed me and implanted his seed deep within my body.

I was in a tentative situation and I needed to adapt quickly. That's what I've been doing for the last few days. Surviving.

My people had their resources, mainly in gemstones and gold, but with the savage king's nomadic ways, would all of the kingdom's gold matter? My family would never be able to track the savage king, and even if they could—my life wasn't worth the cost of a deadly war. And war it would be.

So, I bided my time and grew some comfort in my position as the savage and me road on horseback for his people's camp.

They are waiting on us, he explained. "If I do not return, a new king will emerge."

While I may appear docile to him, and perhaps I was being calm, what he didn't know was that my mind was constantly planning and waiting for the right time. For the time I'd kill him for what he's done.

So, I bided my time until I had the right opportunity to kill the king. It would come. I knew it.

He keeps me within hand's reach every second of the day. To say he was protective and paranoid is an understatement. The king is highly possessive of me. He constantly touches me, almost as lover might with strong hands on my thighs or waist as he galloped at a steady pace for the horizon. But, we were not lovers.

He took my body by force, and although I'd experienced pleasure, I could never forgive him for stealing me away and murdering my people.

That is why I bided my time.

The sun set by time the king and I spotted smoke fire in the distance. Not long after, we arrive at a camp. I tense at the sight of his people. All massive, strong, violent-looking men. Some had women in chains cuffed nearby. Some were having sex in tents or with little discretion nearby in the woods.

Tor brought his horse to a stop and spoke to his people. Once again, I couldn't understand the language, but I saw the men nod in acknowledgement. And then they looked at me, and I looked at them in kind. One in particular watched me with the same predatory glint I'd seen in the savage king's gaze as he fucked me.

This man was dangerous.

Finally off that wretched horse, I stretched my stiff muscles as Tor led me by hand in front of a group of commanding men. Likely Tor's trusted guard, or perhaps his brothers.

They shared words and then Tor led me to a tent.

"I start fire. You bathe. Eat. Sleep."

I was not exactly accustomed to taking orders from anyone other than my father, a man who'd somehow never managed to embrace me in all my eighteen years of life.

Tor brought in logs and started a fire. A little while after he exited, four women entered the tent, smiling and bowing their heads in reverence.

Unsure what to say, I try to speak to them in my language, but they bow away, not comprehending. Only Tor seemed to speak any of my language.

And escape I would. After I killed the king.

I bathed in warm water for the first time in days since he took me from my bed. It was a welcome experience that I luxuriated in until long after my skin had puckered like a raisin's hide.

Clothes are brought to me after my bath. Instead of my standard and proper dress, I am given an exotic shawl that covers my body, including my hair. I wrap myself in the surprisingly lovely material and step outside the tent.

My body is bone-weary. I'm so tired it is a struggle to keep my eyelids open. I search for him, the king, and find him sitting 'round a campfire with other savage men who likely deserved to die. I step up to him, interrupting the conversation in a moment's time.

Boldly I look him in the eye. "I need to relieve myself."

I knew he understood me. But he didn't acknowledge my statement for a long minute. His gaze, on the other hand, did roam my body from hair to feet and back again, taking in my dress.

"Enchantress, princess Dafne, wearing the clothes of my people."

His words have a surprising effect on me as I feel my cheeks turn at his words; in certain moments he could be so different from the rough murderer she knew he was.

He spoke and a man stood. The same one who'd been watching me earlier. I stiffen. The man, a guard, waved at me to go ahead. He gestured that he would follow along.

No longer tired, but aware, I head for the woods and find a dark spot amongst the trees and bushes to lift the silks and relieve myself. It's as I squat urinating that I spot the guard watching me, his trews pushed down, his genitals in his hands as he roughly jerked himself like he was milking a cow's udder. He watched me with pleasure slackening his expression.

I blanch in disgust and turn away just as I hear masculine grunts and the sounds of wet splashes stirring the leaves as the guard jetted his release onto the ground.

Shaken more than I would like to admit, and unsure why exactly, it's when I feel the guard's presence at my back that I finally let out a shout.

The flurry of activity that took place in the next few seconds would end up taking me hours to process.

It seems that within seconds of my scream, the savage king is there and the guard is on the ground with a dirty boot shoved forcefully against his throat and a blood-stained sword at his pointed to his eyeball; only a scant inch separating blade and eye.

The savage king growls at the guard, his face cruelly and angry as he castigated and accused the guard. The man winces and struggles to breathe around the tremendous pressure against his throat. But it's a losing battle.

The king looks over at me with his mouth pinched in a flat line and his breaths charged. He points at me and orders us all back to the camp. The guard stands warily and keeps his hands behind his head as we tread back.

The king is livid. Far more than I had originally thought.

He shouts to his men, his face red and dangerous. His strong sword hand beats against his chest like an ape. The guard drops to his knees with his head slung low as the king points and spat, then punches and kicks him like a rabid dog.

It is an awful sight to behold, but one in which I remain too enraptured to ignore.

"My princess. My queen." The king returned to my side and spread his hand across my stomach, sending alarm through me. Again he shouted at his people.

And then, without warning, the savage king in all his virile anger strode over to me with a determined look on his face.

Somehow I knew what he was going to do. I don't know how to explain it... I just knew.

He was going to send a message to his men. A warning. Give them a physical sign of his ownership.

He pushed me to my knees. I had to quickly grab hold of dirt as my silk dress was shoved up past my waist.

The men watched. This was their ritual. The way of his people.

There was no choice for me. He was going to take me to prove a point.

And still when his cock speared into my tender flesh, I cried out in surprise.

This time was different. He took me harder, rougher. Without care, if that was a possible way to describe it.

He made all the sounds he needed to make. He pushed and shoved his stiff cock in and out of me as I breathed through his penetration.

And when his hips slapped against my bare bottom and stayed there, I felt the inner spray of his primal seed spurting inside me as he emptied his anger into me.

He stands when he is finished, leaving me to pull my gown down and come to my feet far slower. Fully humiliated and angry beyond words, I crack my knuckles as they're pulled into fists, clenching tightly to make my own personal weapon. Never in my life had anyone ever made me as angry as this savage beast could.

He would pay. I would make sure of it. For every transgression he's made against me and my body and my people, I will gut him for like a fish at the harbor.

The king rages at his people more, and then in one swift fell swoop, he careens his blade downward towards the guard in a lethal movement. I suck in a sharp breath. Connection between tender yielding flesh and brute hard metal meet in one final departure. The warrior's head rolls a length away, eyes still open in a horrified expression.

I scream and turn, running for my tent. Tears are streaming down my face. I'm not sure why. Somewhere in the midst of the turmoil exploding through my brain I see furs and sheets made into a pallet on the floor.

I need time to process all that had happened. I need time alone to think and plan. But, I know the king will be at my side tonight, holding me as closely as he had since the night he caught me.

The tears stop the moment Tor enters the tent. He's cleaned of blood that had splattered on his chest and face. If the king had truly acknowledged me or seen the look in my eyes as he got down in the pallet beside me, then he would know that he dies this night.

Perhaps if he knew that these were some of the last breaths he'd take, then he wouldn't ignore me.

Beside him on the pallet is his sword. I see it and I bide my time while listening to the unhurried breaths of the savage king.

Tonight he died. Tonight this ended.