That Which Burns

Consumer warning; May contain nuts, egg and dairy. Not recommended for children or pregnant or lactating women. Contains caffeine.

No seriously.

This is set in a fantasy, post apocalyptic world. My original inspiration for this series was the artwork of Luis Royo. All characters are fictional.

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CHAPTER ONE

For too long all she could see was the course fabric covering her face, all she could breath was its choking musty scent. She wanted to cough, but feared that if she started she wouldn't be able to stop again. Rough, calloused hands pushed her forward. They had beaten her, but not badly. Certainly not as badly as the brutally ravaged bodies she had recovered on the boarder of the tribe's lands. It seemed every person killed by the Prince's army was first raped and beaten beyond repair before their tortured corpses were returned to their families.

However her special treatment did not bode well for her. The Prince knew who she was. If she had been killed, left on the board as her tribe mates before her, there would still be hope, but while she was imprisoned here, tortured and displayed, the hope of her people would be crushed. They would be defeated.

She regretted this now. Her fury at the Prince's mistreatment of her people had driven her to act rashly. She had heard word that some of the women of her tribe may still be alive, trapped within the palace walls. She had thought to sneak in and retrieve them, but it had been a hopeless mission from the start.

She was pushed to the ground, her kneecaps cracking painfully on the frigid marble floor. The sack was yanked off her head, and for a moment she was blinded by the light.

Soul deep, brown eyes watched her, half hidden behind long, dark lashes. His head was shaved but for a thick, summer green topknot that hung foppishly to touch his left ear. Women lounged, semi naked, around his feet like hounds, some cowering as far from his obsidian throne as their chains would allow, others preening and fawning for his attention.

The air, the blessed air. She inhaled deeply, then submitted to a fit of coughing. Clearing the dusty spores from her lungs. He smiled, watching her with a curious, puzzled look. A bemused predator who has just had prey fall into its grasp. She struggled to rise, but hands forced her down, the point of a blade puncturing her shoulder. She hissed and received a fist to the back of her head for her impertinence.

He rose, graceful, muscles shifting and rippling under his skin like those of a cat. He was no false power. She could see by looking at him he was a warrior. Like her. His body was sparsely covered by tatters of what once might have been fine clothes. They were from a time passed however, back before the new age. Synthetic fabric was a such a rarity, it was a wonder any of it was still around at all.

He reached out for her, turning her head with his fingertips. She could smell the pungent aroma of a woman's sex and blood on his hand, but his fingers were dry.

"Savage."

She didn't understand the word, but guessed the meaning from his tone. The Prince and his people treated hers as barbarians, because they chose to live in the wilds, away from the ruined remains of cities long dead. He coveted the land of her tribe and the tribes beyond that. He coveted their women and food. He coveted all power and all he could see from his ivory towers.

She said nothing. Unable to rise, for fear of pain or further abuse. Let him look all he liked. She would bide her time. Soon, soon enough she would have her chance.

He spoke expansively to her guards, then motioned them away. They pulled her to her feet and lead her away. Dragging her through a cold bath and anointing her body with oil. Their touch was rough, brutal, but none dared to squeeze or pinch her flesh. Nor did they thrust their fingers into her, or harm her.

She understood why. She was to be his and his alone.

She was blindfolded and led through what could only be a maze of corridors. Twice she stumbled at the base of stairs, twice she was jerked to her feet again by uncaring hands. At last they tossed her bodily onto a bed.

She lay stunned for a moment, before twisting herself into a sitting position and ripping off the blindfold. The room was cluttered, the ceiling hung with gauzy curtains that swayed and shimmered in the breeze. The bed was massive, piled with sheets and cushions and the stone floor was littered with any number of oddities. A feather here, a knife there, children's toys, rope, clothes, pretty stones and useless trinkets all piled together in a random, formless display of colour and mess.

She was alone for the moment, so took the chance to ease herself cautiously off the bed. She fetched a knife from the mess, secreting it away down beside the mattress just as the door opened.

He stepped in, closing and locking the door behind himself. He tossed the key to the floor, where it was instantly lost amongst the mess. He studied her, eyes searching every inch of her skin. She could almost feel their gaze as a physical thing, sliding over her curves and skin like water.

She tensed. Unsure if she should try and flee or attack him. She was fast, and armed she had killed many of his men, leaving their corpses on the muddy battle fields. She knew the weaknesses on the body of a man, she could kill him with her hands, but his confidence.... His sheer presence, kept her pinned. Trapped in the dark pools of his eyes, unable to move, unable to fight him any more than she could fight the passing of time or the ageing of her own body.

He stepped toward her, reached out to touch... to own... but she fled from him. Crossing to the far side of the room in a flurry of sheets, legs and trinkets that scattered as she kicked them from her path.

She pressed herself against the wall there. Glowering at him, hissing like a wildcat and baring her teeth.

He smiled a little, amused. It was not a kind look, nor was it charming or endearing. It was the cold smirk of a snake.

“Come here.”

Again, she did not understand his words. His language was foreign to her, he must know this. Yet he expected her to obey him all the same. When she didn’t move he crossed the room to her, grabbing her by the arms and dragging her back to the bed.

She fought against him, but did not kick or strike, for fear he would break her bones and take her like that. He forced her onto the mattress, pinning her down on her back, then straddling her hips, his penis laying flaccid on her stomach.

Seeking hands caressed her heaving ribs, rubbing smoothly over her oiled skin. Her hands flew up, grabbing his wrists and trying to force him away, but he dragged her hands down and pinned them under his knees.

She winced, feeling the crush of his weight, but her bones did not break. For that she was grateful.

Turning her head, she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to ignore the sensation of his hands exploring her body. He cupped and squeezed her breasts, pinching the nipples between his finger and thumb until she cried out in pain.

Tears built her eyes, she was scared and felt so horribly alone. It was only pain, she reminded herself. She needed to be strong for her people and had suffered many a greater injury in battle.

But this was different. Pain inflicted to cause humiliation was not like pain inflicted in battle. She was not to fault. She reminded herself. There was no shame in what was happening to her, no shame for her at any rate, but they way he looked at her. She felt ugly and dirty.

In her tribe she was considered beautiful. A warrior at the peek of her strength. Healthy, vibrant and brave. A true and worthy queen to her people.

Now she was just a girl. A thing. His degradation of her body made her nothing more than a toy, with no more worth than any other trinket littering the room. She expected him to force himself into her soon. To beat her and take his pleasure with no more restraint than an animal, but his hands continued to explore. Sliding across her greased skin, exploring every inch of her, her arms, her neck. Shivers chased her skin, little goose bumps formed on her sides and shoulders when his touch tickled.

Suddenly he slapped her, his oiled hand crossing her cheek and leaving a stinging burning welt. She was too shocked to cry out, she had done nothing, there had been no warning. Only the unexpected pain. Her eyes flicked open and she stared up at him, cringing and confused.

There was no way to read his expression. He might have been amused or angry. Or else he felt nothing at all. His deep green hair was trailing down his cheek, slowly falling to hide one deep brown eye. He shook his head impatiently, flipping it back behind his shoulder, then he stood, dragging her to the edge of the bed and forcing her to sit.

She was now faced with his penis, still flaccid and hanging between his legs like a fat, white worm. She crinkled her nose at the scent of it, sharp and musky, as all males are. His fingers twined in her long, tangled hair, forcing her to tilt her head and bring her face closer.

She could have bitten him, but she knew her death would be brutal and bloody. Instead she clenched her teeth and eyes, refusing to look, even as she felt its silky curve brush her lips. His fingers tightened in her hair, yanking at her scalp.

She cried out, then accepted his cock between her lips, tears of pain running parallel down her cheeks. She tongued the tip, exploring the folds of the foreskin. It tasted sour, but he was clean and soon the bitterness was gone, replaced by the slick wetness of her own saliva. She could feel him swelling in her mouth, becoming rigid and thick inside her.

He rocked his hips slowly, still holding her head in place with one hand, never quite bringing himself all the way out of her. At first she continued to resist, but then it occurred to her, the faster he reached his peak, the sooner this would be over. Perhaps he would not invade her further at all, simply spilling his seed in her mouth rather than injuring her by raping her.

She started sucking in earnest then. Taking the length of it, drawing swirls and wiggles along the underside, then circling the head, flicking the tip of her tongue into the slit. She heard the slight shift in his breathing as it became deeper and quicker. His thrusts became more forceful and she started to gag, choking on the length of it.

He pulled back then, his swollen glans slipping from her lips to bob and bounce against his belly button. He pulled her up to stand as well, then stepped around her, seating himself and catching her wrists to her sides.

For a moment he simply studied her, his eyes flicking over the soft, round orbs of her breasts and down to the curly mass of her mound. Releasing her wrists, he trailed his fingers up the inside of her thigh.

She could feel the tickling touch as his fingers brushed across her lips. He was not rough or eager, but explored this new diversion with the casual curiosity. When he pushed her legs further apart, she did not resist. Straddling air and giving him full access. For a moment she was appalled at her own willingness to enjoy the gentle sensation, but again, common sense overrode her revulsion. The assault would not be so painful if she were aroused.

She could feel his deep eyes watching her, assessing her pleasure and abusing her with their gaze. She kept her own eyes closed, unwilling to meet that cold reptilian stare. He scared her, but when she couldn’t see him she could pretend it was a man and not some wretched beast in the body of a man.

He leaned forward, his mouth closing over one of her nipples. His suckled at her breast like a starving man receiving nourishment. His tongue and lips sent stabs of lightning through her, jolts of sensation seemed to run over her skin and gather in her crotch.

His fingers were working faster now, delving between the fleshy folds to gather the dewy moisture building there. He worked her cream up along her slit to the swelling nub of her clit, swirling the wetness around it, but never touching it.

His mouth moved down, nipping and licking across her stomach with rough kisses. She pressed herself achingly against his hands, her hips grinding down of their own volition.

She felt his fingertips explore further, parting the firm muscles and tickling the sensitive amber of her anus. She tensed for a moment, unsure about this new sensation, then relaxed again, letting him slather the area until it was slick with her juices.

Suddenly he bit her, his teeth cutting into the sensitive skin beside her belly button. She shrieked in pain, trying to pull away, but he did not release her and she was held in place by the searing pain. Almost in the same instant his fingers entered her, not the fleshy diamond of her slit, but the virgin hole of her anus.

The pain was blinding and that one digit felt like the thick blade of a knife, slicing into her organs. She was panting in sharp, short gasps, momentarily dizzy and sick from the pain. Then it passed and he let her stomach go, leaving a red ring of teeth marks.

She was still impaled on his finger, but while she could feel her sphincter gripping and spasming around it, there was no longer any pain. Slowly he began to pull his finger free. For a moment she felt an odd sensation, like her insides were being pulled along with it, then he slid it back up into her.

His whole hand had been well lubricated, until moments earlier her cream had been oozing down across his palm toward his wrist. She suspected the flow would have stopped now, draining away to nothing with her arousal.

Seconds seemed to stretch into hours as he continued to ease his finger into her, only to draw it out, just as slowly. Back and forth, again and again. Then she felt the pressure of a second digit, sliding up alongside the first.

She winced and bit her lip, but the second entry was not as painful as the first. It was followed by a third.

He started to kiss her skin again and she tensed, fearing anther stinging bite, but he simply moved up her body to her breasts, licking the nipples and rolling them in his mouth.

She felt her clit begin to swell again and quite suddenly the movement of his fingers inside her was more than pleasant. She moaned and arched, pressing down and into his mouth, desiring, desperate.

Her clit was burning, aching to be touched, licked, anything. Her slit was pulsing, desperate to be filled, desperate for release. He started to move down, his tongue licking across her stomach, past her belly button and into the downy fur of her mons. Her hips bucked, desperately trying to reach the wet, red muscle.

Then, like blast of lighting, it was on her. The tip of his tongue circling her bud once, before running over it, pealing back the hood and touching the core of her pleasure. she moaned deep and loud as his mouth closed over her clit.

Her hips moved rhythmically with his fingers and she could feel him working her deeper and harder. She was on the edge, her crescendo building, then she was empty and bereft and she wailed her protest as he pulled away.

He studied her heaving breasts and licked his dew covered chin and smiled a little, wiping his hands on the bed sheets. She was burning with frustration, only moments from her climax, but he denied her, standing and forcing her to her knees before him.

Again she was faced with his turgid cock, only this time it was a hard and swollen arch. She accepted it into her mouth again, still frustrated by her own burning desire. She wanted him to mount her, to finish what he had started in the wild and brutal way she had expected at the beginning. She longed for him as she never had for any other lover, it was a burning, frenzied desire fuelled by his denial of her orgasm.

She suckled on him like a demon creature, as if she would swallow not only his seed, but his very soul. Her tongue was a blur of motion, the length of his erection lost in the depths of her throat.

He groaned, a deep, animal noise and pulled her up, laying her out on the bed. he had been close to cumming, she was sure if it, but he had denied himself as he had her. Forcing her legs apart he buried himself to the hilt inside her, causing her to yelp and squirm. He was large and his hard thrusts hurt, she could feel his member battering against her cervix, trying to forced itself deep into even that most secret of places.

She claws at his back, leaving long bloody lines down his shoulders and spine and he bit her back, his teeth finding home on her neck, breasts and collar. Then she was coming, over and over the wave built inside her and broke inside her hips. He did not slow, milking everything he could from her, before she collapsed, panting, in tears and bloody.

The slap was unexpected. The flat of his palm connected with her cheek with enough force to leave her reeling.

He snarled, “How dare you pleasure yourself on me, whore.”

She cringed away, trying to escape the second blow, but his weight was still pinning her down. Confused and scared, she whimpered.

He pulled her up by her hair and tossed her off the bed. She trembled on the floor for a moment, expecting the attacks to continue. Unable to understand his words, she could not fathom what she had done wrong.

He forced her up to her knees and forced her to take him in her mouth again. She could taste her own climax on him, alien and sweet. He was rough now, holding her head by the hair and thrusting into her mouth. She tried to take the length of him, but the force and unpredictable nature of his motions made her gag.

He came violently. His bitter cream filling her mouth and nose, choking her. She swallowed again and again, struggling to pull away from him. She could not breath, his hand was twisting hard in her hair and the pain was incredible.

Finally he released her and she crawled away from him, curling in the corner and fingering her bruised and bloody lips. He gave her a superior smirk and lay back on the bed, satisfied.

He was a monster and she felt as a child, abused and trapped in the corner of his lair. Closing her eyes she curled into a ball and prayed for it to end.