Interlude

Excellent Fifty Shades of Grey send-up on this blog right here. Definitely worth a read

Chaper Three: Regime

 

Its market day in Vesale, people are everywhere, and in my way shouting their wares, from the finest steal in all of Edora to the ripest fruits. The deafening noise subdued to a background hum, my mind too clouded to relate to such normalities. The heat of the late afternoon sun blares down on me; I’m sweating, trying to keep up with Kalcha’s long strides. I’m yelling at him; completely unbothered by the swarms of people, all glaring at me, judging me. ‘What are you going to do?’ I cry over and over, but he ignores me and keeps his head firmly fixed on the twisting street before him. We’re approaching one of the communal fountains; a group of young boys are screeching and frolicking in its clear waters, their lithe bodies snaking in front of me, blocking me from my task. I fear I may lose sight of Kalcha, but he stands almost a foot higher than most, his sandy head bobbing among the crowds. I firmly push aside one of the boys as he dances in my path giggling, his life a delightful bubble of simplicity.

Kalcha is a man on a mission, his strong arms knocking aside anyone who dares cross his path. I cannot see his face but I know it will be a picture of steely determination. I ponder for a moment if he even knows where his destination is, does he know where Ranril lives? Not that it would be a hard thing to discover, since one can always ask, although I find men are not forthcoming this way.

We pass the herbalists at record speed, nearly knocking over Jessie’s outside display; she scowls at me from the shop archway and folds her portly arms over her chest. I mouth how sorry I am for my blunder, although apparently unconvincingly as her eyes narrow further. The streets are growing tighter as we head deeper into their seedy belly. Chains of drab washing hang from the top of the clay buildings, obscuring the light but maximising the heat, the closeness stifling.  He is heading in the right direction, to the grimy part of town; Ranril is only a menial labourer, he cannot afford luxury. I spy a woman, not much older than me; one slender leg dangling from a first floor window, a sheet poorly concealing her nakedness, our eyes meet only for a split second, but in that second I am painfully aware of her situation, she is neither sad nor contented, she just exists, making her way in this world as best she can, using what the gods gave her to get by; I have more in common with this whore than most. I tear my eyes away from her, embarrassed that she caught me gawking.

Kalcha abruptly stops in his tracks; I just about crash into the back of him, but stop myself before the ungainly collision. ‘Which way?’ He bellows without turning around.

I should lie and send him on a false trail; which may infuriate the brute further and lead to my untimely demise, or perhaps I could calm him down somehow, buy myself some time? I spy two City Watch men; not too far away, arguing animatedly with a ragged vender selling repulsive looking meats, probably rat. If I could get their attention there could be a solution.

‘I asked you a question: which way to his house?’ He asks again, loudly and slowly.

I move swiftly in front of him; and set my face to what I believe is my most heart-rending expression. ‘We can go home, we can talk this through. You needn’t do this.’ My eyes plead with him, although I know it to be most futile. I’m being shouldered and cursed by passer bys for my obstructive presence. But I pay no heed; they are like ghosts to me.

‘The time to talk is over. Tell me where he lives or I shall go in there and find out.’ He points over to a ram shackled building with a flaking sign that reads: The Howling Wanderer, I myself have never ventured into this shoddy looking inn, but then I am not a fan of bandits and rapists. He clearly does not relish the idea; I can’t decide what his deeper reservations are, be it the foreboding looking tavern or asking for directions.

I move closer to him, trying to appeal to his benevolent side. ‘This is silly; come now Kalcha, let us go home.  I truly..’

‘Someone must pay for this impertinence!’

I instinctively reach for my cheek, as it still throbs from where the hard table met my soft flesh, channelled by his heavy hand. ‘I hurt. I am paying now; is this not enough? Why have more blood on your hands?’ I see his eyes soften slightly as he recalls his severity. ‘You have chastised me, and rightfully so. I am yours, thus the entitlement is just. We can go home and you can chastise me further, if you so desire. Spilling another’s blood will achieve nothing.’ The lies fall from my mouth so easily, he has no right over me but I must get him away from this senseless act of destruction.

‘It will make me feel better.’ His glare has gone from menacing executioner to petrified child.

‘Come home. I’ll make you feel better in other ways.’ I whisper, wrapping my arms around his solid torso. I feel his body relaxing and his breathing quietening, but only fleetingly. As he clasps the top of my shoulders and shoves me backward, I crash into something bony and frail, it’s an old woman, her face a clutter of pock marks and grime. She begins striking me, about the face and neck screaming some strange banshee cry. By the time I’ve fought off the crazy hag raven I’ve lost all sight of Kalcha. ‘Shit!’ I spot the City Watch, they have noticed me too and are heading in my direction. I use the crowded streets to my advantage and slip stealthily into the horde.

He’ll be in the tavern, so that is where I must venture.

The stained oak door groans as it opens inwardly. The smell hits me first, a combination of stale ale and puke rushes toward me. Visually the interior fairs even worse, it’s murky so the full extent of the grottyness is muted; however the darkness is no relief from the heat.  I can make out many rickety tables and chairs occupied by many mean looking men; who are all staring at me like hungry wolves eyeing an unwary deer. The room has grown unnaturally quiet due to their full inspection of me, but the menacing cliental soon become disinterested and quickly resume their clamorous drinking. I cannot see Kalcha anywhere and my heart is hammering in my chest. I should not be in here and the thugs surrounding me clearly concur. I make my way towards the bar at the far end of the room, making sure to avoid all eye contact.

‘What’ll it be love?’ The barkeep bellows over the dim, he has a mop of greasy black hair stuck flat to his scalp. And I’m trying my hardest to avoid staring into his deep crevice that was once home to an eye.

‘I’m looking for my husband.’ My eyes dart across the width of the room, searching for his familiar shape.

‘I don’t think there’s any husbands in ‘ere worth finding.’ He grins at me, and reveals a serious lack of dental hygiene.

Before I have time to launch into a full depiction, I catch sight of him at the far end of the bar, he’s talking with a group of men who all dressed in green velvet; a sign of their affiliation with the ranger’s guild; also the bows, the bows are a good sign too. I smile awkwardly at the disfigured taverner and briskly make my way towards my husband.

He narrows his eyes as I approach and he swiftly moves away from the group, almost knocking me over as he shoulders past.

‘Where are you going?’ I ask lamely, reaching out for his arm. 

‘Have I not made this clear woman! I am going to destroy the little bastard that fucked you!’

I sign heavily and run my hand over my sweat covered face. ‘Yes this is abundantly clear, but then what!’ The bar has hushed from our commotion.

A stout middle aged man leans back in his chair and reaches out for my hand. ‘You’ right flower? This man bothering ya?’

I knock it away in disgust. ‘I’m fine, my husband and I are just leaving.’ I tug at the sleeve of his shirt, I do not want to spend another second in this ghastly hovel. ‘Come Kalcha, please let us go home!’ My voice is whiney and I cringe at the tone.

‘Well I’m just saying, if this brute is giving ya any grief  just you come and tell Ol’Tyron. I’ll keep a pretty little thing like you safe, oh yes, no need to worry about that for sure, I’ll keep you safe, yes indeedy.’ The rambling fool is clearly drunk and reeks of piss. He wheezes and immediately embarks on a coughing fit; both Kalcha and I stare at him in appalled disbelief. ‘Oh yes, Ol’Tyron he knows how to please the ladies, he does, yes sirey.’ He continues slurring on in this manner for a few moments more until Kalcha reaches his limit, back hands him and pulls me away from the piss head. This is met with an uproar of hilarity from Ol’Tyron’s table.

Just as Kalcha is leading me from the wolf pit, the sound of a door slamming shut pulls our attention to the rear. Stood swaying in the entrance to, what I imagine, the privy, is a shirt clad yet dishevelled looking Ranril. Icy fingers twist around my spine, breath caught in my throat, it takes all my concentration not to be sick. But it’s been years since Kalcha has laid eyes on him, and with any hope he will not twig. Ranril’s face is turned to the floor and he’s slouching a great deal; he does not look like his usual lovely self. I glance quickly at Kalcha, praying that he does not identify this drunken individual as my lover, his expression does not change; if we leave quickly he’ll be none the wiser.   

‘Ranril you old cock!’ Hollers a young blonde man with a strong North Tasbrien accent. ‘Get your arse over here and finish what you started, you fucking lightweight!’ I have a feeling his cover is blown. Ranril grins in his impish way and stumbles towards the bar stool and his drinking buddy.   

Kalcha is clenching and unclenching his fists, grinding his jaw and giving Ranril the greatest death stare man has ever seen. My whole body is shrouded in panic, I pull on his arm and whisper my pleas, but he cannot hear me, for all his focus is drawn to obliterating Ranril. He shakes me off roughly sending me back a few paces. He’s hurtling across the room at such a pace, before I have time to blink he’s on him, his hand clasped about Ranril’s throat, lifting him a foot off the ground. He looks positively childlike hanging from my husband’s powerful arm, kicking and squirming.

‘Do you know me boy?’ He shouts in his face.

Ranril is trying his hardest to shake his head, but he can barely move from such a resilient embrace. But he manages to splutter. ‘Nnnoo.’

‘Well I believe you know my wife.’ He nods over his shoulder towards me.

 I rush in behind him. ‘Kalcha, stop! This is ridiculous.’ I try pulling at his outstretched  arm, but it will not budge. He shoulders me out of the way and with one powerful heave tosses Ranril to the floor, this sudden violent outburst seems to have sobered him up, his eyes are darting around the room in panic, they eventually settle on me. He seems to have forgotten his impending doom and smiles adoringly at me, I feel myself swoon, much to Kalcha’s displeasure. ‘Get out of here quickly!’ I yell at the sprawled out boy, as I feel the air between Kalcha and me turn rigid with loathing.   

Before he has a chance to shift, Kalcha is bearing down upon him, he has him by the shirt collar and is pummelling his face again and again with his colossal fists, blood is spurting everywhere. The tavern is filled with frantic garbled shouting and the scraping back of chairs. My own voice joins in with the rabble, he is going to kill and probably be killed, someone needs to stop this.

The blonde boy from North Tasbrie has appeared by my side, yelling at me to make him stop. Ranril’s cries sound so distant, he keeps trying to put up his hands to protect his face but it is useless, as Kalcha knocks straight through his weak defence. I can feel the wetness of tears trick down my cheeks, what is happening? A semi circle seems to be forming around the conflict as if this is some form of spectator sport, although it is closer to a fucking execution. Several of the men begin cheering my husband on; while others are clearly contemplating an intervention.

The sound of steel resonating against steel as sword is drawn from scabbard fills the inn, followed by a loud and commanding voice that roars over the din. ‘What is the meaning for this?’ I spin around and I’m faced with the intimidating City Watch. The two men are the same towering height, although the dark skinned Knight is a lot leaner than the older grey haired man, who could be described as thickset. They are both clad in colonial armour with the accustomed crimson cape fastened with the lion broach of House Soren. These men dominate the tavern now, and all has fallen still with anxious anticipation.       

The circle of men begin to slowly fan out, revealing the blood soaked Kalcha and the quivering form of Ranril. Kalcha’s body is heaving, he still has Ranril in his grasp, his arm raised back ready for another blow. He turns his head slowly towards the two knights, but he pays them no heed and sends his fist soaring into the poor boys face; I emit a painful scream.

‘Enough!’ Cries the grey haired Knight, as he and the younger man swiftly move to restrain my demented husband, who does not fight against the arrest; the two of them a match for his great height and strength. ‘I asked a question!’ He shouts again, this time addressing everyone in the room.

‘That you did Ser, well I shall tell thee, yes I shall.’ Slurs Ol’Tyron who has not moved from his seat, he’s leaning right back in his chair balancing dangerously on two legs . ‘This pretty little wench ‘ere as been fucking the brown boy. Blondie ‘ere is ‘er husband and he ain’t too happy about this. So you see he’s extracting revenge, by killing the little rat, see? Now how’s about you let Ol’Tyron take that pretty wench home and extract some.. revenge ... on her nice tight arse, ey? What’d ya say? I say that’s a pretty fucking good idea..’He points and winks and no one in particular, then hiccups loudly. I stare at him in astonishment. Although the two Knights appear to be focusing on me, I feel naked beneath their gaze.

‘A battery and an infidelity. Two very serious felonies’ says the older Knight, his voice level and unhurried; he appears to be smirking at me, drinking me in with his emerald eyes. ‘What do you say Link? We’ll have to charge them both?’ He directs the question to the dark knight, who is all but leering at me, he does not respond to the question; just continues to de-robe me with his dark brooding stare. ‘Someone get this boy to a healer, before he bleeds out.’  The grey haired Knight says detachedly nodding down at Ranril; whose blonde friend immediately takes action. Helping his broken body up and supporting the majority of his weight they shamble across the soiled rushes leaving a trail of blood in their wake.

‘I’m sorry.. I’m sorry.’ I whisper as they pass, I cannot look at his beaten face. This is all my fault.

They pause next to me and Ranril murmurs something almost inaudible, then it hits me. ‘You were not worth this.’ The words repeating over and over in my head. I force myself to look up from the floor. One of his eyes is swollen shut, his nose shattered across his face, his lips engorged to bursting point. Blood, so much blood. His one good eye studies me for a moment, and in that moment I can feel all his pain and hatred, and it is all directed at me. I wish I were dead. I fall to my knees and begin to weep.

 I feel strong hands around the tops of my arms, pulling me to my feet. Through the tears I see the blurry image of the dark Knight named Link. He’s smiling at me, which I do not find reassuring.

‘We need to teach you a thing or two about regime.’ The grey Knight utters. ‘And how one cannot simply disregard it.’ He nods towards the back of the tavern, and Link begins steering me in that direction.

At this point Kalcha begins struggling against his capture. ‘Leave her alone! You touch one hair on her head and I will fucking kill you, you hear me!’ Before he can free himself the grey knight brings the pommel of his sword crashing down onto his skull, Kalcha crumples to the floor like discarded parchment. I scream at the men and curse their existence; I try to struggle free from Link’s firm grasp but it is no use. All the other men in the tavern seem to overlook this new development, their raucous banter has begun again and their interest in my troubles forgotten, besides who in their right mind would take on two armed Knights of the City Watch?

‘Come quietly. Let us not have any more trouble hm?’ Says the grey Knight. As he moves around Kalcha’s still body he kicks him in the gut for good measure, I wince from the thudding blow.

‘Now, my good Ser Knights you’ll let Ol’Tyron have a go on that when you’re done won’t ya ey? From what I’ve ‘erd you City Watch are a sharing bunch, so you won’t mind me having a turn will ya? That’s good a’ya. Glad we’ve come to an arrangement.’ Tyron is leaning very far back in his chair, thankfully the drunken imbecile looses balances and tumbles backwards, he lays there, on his back with a stupid grin spread across his common face. ‘That’s good a’ya.’ He seems oblivious to his new position. The Knights ignore his remark.     

The grey Knight barges behind the bar, and shoulders open a door leading into a poorly lit room. ‘This’ll do.’ He raises his eyebrows several times at Link and smirks.

Once inside Link closes the door and the grey Knight makes his way over to a tattered sleeping pallet. He flops down onto it and props himself up into a sitting position, his back against the wall. There are no windows, but a dingy glow is emitted from three sconces that are fixed to the wall. There is a table and an unlit hearth with a cooking pot hanging over it, the rest of the room is empty.

Link stands by the door, motionless. Even with my back to him I know that his eyes are boring into me. The room is stifling yet I cannot escape a cold chill; that runs right through my core. I wrap my arms around my chest; hugging myself tightly.  

‘Should we skip the interrogation and get straight to the point?’ The grey Knight asks, his expression neither cruel nor gentle. ‘Unless you have any urgent queries Link?..No? Thought not.’ he looks back to me his face a blank canvass. ‘Take off your clothes.’

‘Sorry?’ I stutter.

‘You heard me, take...off....your...clothes.’ He pronounces each word so fluently, almost gently.

I turn around to look at Link, he’s leaning in the door way as if this is the most casual of events, he holds out his hand, encouraging me to conform. His face is also unreadable.

‘Don’t look at him, look at me.. Always look at me.’ Even in the gloom his eyes are hypnotising.

I know I have no option, it is simple, I must obey. I discard my knapsack and begin unbuttoning my blouse, my hands are shaking which makes the task almost unachievable but I fumble slowly down the line of buttons and slide the loose shirt from my shoulders; watching it unfold around my sandaled feet. In my hurry changing back at the house I neglected to don undergarments, so my breasts are fully revealed, I cross my arms in front of myself for some reason, perhaps shame? Or maybe a reaction to being exposed to a stranger? My chest feels sticky with sweat.

‘Don’t do that.’ His tone sounds like a displeased teacher. ‘And look at me, not at the floor, do you understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good girl.’ He nods his liking. ‘Continue.’

I unbuckle my belt and wiggle out of my linen britches, all the while keeping my eyes firmly fixed on him; he has not yet looked away from my face. He seems oblivious to my nakedness. Finally I kick off my sandals, and stand there awaiting further instruction. I hear Link exhale noisily from behind me.

‘Very nice, wouldn’t you agree Link?’ He does not break our intent look. ‘Now get on all fours and crawl to me.’

Without hesitation, as if in a trance, I lower myself to my knees, bend forward and begin crawling to him, our eyes still piercing each other.

‘Slower.’ He commands, without raising his voice.

I slow down, and begin to exaggerate the swaying of my shoulders, causing my tits to quiver. I bite my lip and find myself wondering about the shape of his cock.

‘Spread your knees further so Link can see your pussy.’ He leans forward and rests his elbows on his thighs. I do as I’m told and Link lets out a throaty chuckle, I take this as praise and wiggle my hips in response, so he can witness the trembling of my buttocks. ‘What do you think?’ He’s looking at me but I believe the question is directed behind, I am dying to know of his reply, am I pleasing to him?

I’m almost there, just a few more feet and I can feel his touch, oh gods how I long to feel his touch. There is something about those eyes, the way he penetrates me, as if he knows me, as if he comprehends my very soul.

‘Stop.’ He commands. He’s still leaning forward, still staring. I pause; this is cruel I’m so nearly there, I whimper from the frustration. This causes the grey knight to laugh, a floating rich sound; his face transformed into a dazzling beacon. ‘Get involved anytime you’re ready pal.’ His eyes still on me. I can hear the sound of steel clattering onto wood; I imagine Link is removing his armour. ‘What’s your name?’ He asks his face still smiling.

‘Rosalyn.’ I  stammer.

‘Rosalyn.’ He repeats it gently in his opulent tone, I have never enjoyed the sound of my name so much. ‘That’s beautiful.’ I want to devour this man.

I can hear Link striding across the room, positioning himself behind me on his knees, I can feel the heat of his groin radiating against my arse. His rough hand stroking the length of my back, stopping just short of my spread buttocks. My whole body tenses.

‘Relax Rosalyn, trust me. Link is, shall we say, hung like a fucking horse? If your body resists it will cause you great pain.’ The way he says this, so steadily so calmly, as if instructing a nervous pupil. I’m still on all fours, Link is stroking my back, the front of his sweaty thighs pressed against the back of mine, yet I’m staring longingly at the Knight in-front of me. ‘Make her wet.’ This is delivered as an order. Link stops caressing my back, I hear him spit twice, then he slides his wet hand gently between my open legs. Instinctively I jerk forward, trying to forbear his touch. ‘No, don’t do that.’ The grey Knight shakes his head disappointedly, and I’m immediately filled with remorse. 

‘Sorry.’ I gasp, the idea of displeasing him fills me with dread.

‘Don’t be sorry. Just do as you’re told, let Link stroke your pussy till it’s dripping.’

I nod and swallow loudly, pushing myself back onto his waiting hand. His touch is surprisingly soft, and very skilled. He has gone straight for my clit, he very gently circles around it with two fingers , the tingling sensation growing, I moan with satisfaction. The pressure he is exacting is so delicate yet the results are immense. I close my eyes and let the sensitivity swallow me. ‘You’ve looked away Rosalyn.’ His voice dripped in disappointment. ‘Didn’t I say for you to look at me? For you to always look at me?’ A shake of his head. ‘You know what to do Link.’ The dark knight withdraws his hand from my sex, I whine from the sudden lack of lustful sensations. His heavy palm comes crashing down against the flesh of my arse with such might, the sound of skin being brutally struck  perforates the still air, I scream out, just as much from shock as from the searing pain. ‘You do that again and it’s the belt. A third time and it’s the sword. Understood?’ The promise delivered without a hint of malice.

I nod my understanding, trying to blink away tears and hold his stare at the same time.

‘Good; continue.’ He leans back against the wall, and crosses his big arms in-front of his chest.

Link pushes his index finger deep inside me; when he pulls it out it’s dripping with my juices. He uses the dampness to stimulate my whole cunt with a cupped hand. I groan again indicating my growing desire. He chuckles, the sound produced from his throat; the only noise I have heard him make. He speeds up the rubbing to the point of frenzy, slapping at my pussy and quietly laughing; the sound of his hand striking against my soaking cunt a sheer sign that he has fulfilled the grey knight’s order. I notice a wicked smile spread across his weathered features. ‘You want him to fuck you, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ I gasp, absorbed in his mesmerizing eyes.

‘Remember what I said. Relax, you don’t want to get hurt.’ He cares for me; he does not want me to suffer, he is so kind.

Link slowly draws his hand out from between my legs and places it on my hip, pulling me back gently. He shuffles forward on his knees until his cock is pressed against my waiting sex. The girth of the tip alone is enough to fulfil. I open my eyes wide, suddenly aware of the gigantic charge that lies ahead.

The grey knight laughs. ‘I am not one to embellish.’

Link slowly commences pushing his giant cock into my tight pussy, I bite my lip hard to stop from crying out, instead I yield to an animalistic squeal. Every fibre of my being screaming to wrench away, but I cannot; my concentration fully on the grey Knight and my refusal to violate his wishes. I’m panting and sweat is dripping from my brow as Link pushes inch upon inch of his throbbing man hood inside me. The grey knight’s eyes are smiling, reassuring me that everything will be ok. Link grunts roughly as he shunts further into me. I’m letting out a long continuous moan, its pitch gradually getting higher.

‘How does it feel, hm? Tell me?’ He’s leaning forward again, his eyes in great need of my reply.

I cannot form a coherent answer. I’m screaming nonsense at the top of my lungs. Finally I feel Link’s bare thighs slap against my rear, his full length is inside me. It brings tears of pain and ecstasy to my eyes. I’m panting like a bitch in heat and my brain does not work, I cannot even remember my fucking name.

‘Talk to me Rosalyn, I need details.’ He’s clicking his fingers at me, as if ushering a response, but all I can think is, who the hell is Rosalyn?

Link withdraws his colossal cock very slowly and I gasp from the relief; immediately he pushes back into me, sounding a deep yell; I retort with my own scream. Over and over again he’s  plunging into me, knocking the air from my lungs with every thrust, I am so lightheaded I think I’m going to collapse. My eyes long to disappear into the back of my skull but I fight against the urge, holding my green eyed Knight firmly in my sights, his smile a sign of his satisfaction. 

‘You like it don’t you? You like being fucked by a monster.’

‘Y..Ye...Yes!’ I cry, basking in the green pools. Such beautiful eyes. My thighs are drenched with my fluids, every shove of his humongous cock encouraging the flow. Link leans forward and takes my breast in his hand, he kneads it very tenderly between thumb and fingers. He gentle encourages my body to rise up and onto my haunches. My back pressed against his hot sticky chest. He buries his face into my neck, and the heat is overwhelming. His free hand is firmly on my hip. I begin grinding backwards on him, encouraging his member further into my dripping hole. He greets my gyrating with forceful thrusts, an exceedingly rapid yet small movement; the feel of him inside me enough to send my brain into a fever, we’re humping like deranged animals, a panting, sweating writhing beast. Link is the one fucking me but the other is the one is inside my head, his eyes so fucking intense. The line between the physical and the cerebral no longer exist for me.         

‘Good girl.’ My emerald Knight says slowly and breathlessly. ‘Let me see you come. I want to hear you scream down this fucking building!’ His voice raised for the first time, how can I not obey such a commanding being?

I slide my hand between my legs and begin rubbing at my swollen clitoris manically. I am so very close, the tidal wave of extreme pleasure moments away, but I do not want this to end, the feel of Link’s enormous cock inside me and this man’s beautiful eyes inside my head are a combination of utter bliss.

‘You’re nearly there Rosalyn. That’s right, play with your fucking dripping pussy, make yourself come. I want to hear you squeal, I want to see you writhing with pleasure on top of that beast. Can you do that for me?’ His eyes so eager for me to respond.

‘I can, I will, I’m so....’ I completely lose my mind, I fall forward onto the wooden floor boards, my whole body convulsing in a fit of pleasure and confusion, I feel as though I’m being electrocuted, shock after delicious shock pulsing through me. Link has both his hands on my buttocks pulling them further apart, he’s up on his feet in a crouching position, drilling into me with relenting vigour his cock reaching new places, places that have been hidden until now. I have no breath in my lungs, the floor is spinning, I fight to gain control but it is lost. My world has become a giant blur, consumed by  the sound of violent grunting.      

Several moments pass until I come too. I try to push myself up off the floor, but my arms feel too weak. My hair has fallen over my face so I am unaware of the Knights whereabouts.

‘Oh sweet Rosalyn, you were so close to succeeding.’ It’s my green eyed Knight. Judging by the direction of his voice he has not moved from the pallet.

I muster what strength I have remaining, and push myself up into a sitting position to meet his gaze. ‘I don’t understand.’ I look at him in confusion and dread at the idea of displeasing him.

‘You looked away. We need you to recognize our regime as reality, but your insolence prevents you.’ His voice is calm like still waters. ‘I’m afraid you leave me with little choice, Link bring me the belt.’ For the first time I witness real lust blazing in his eyes, like pools of green fire. This is his true desire, and I welcome it gladly.   

Chapter Two: Supremacy

‘How long?’ He asks tenaciously, his head directed at the floor, causing his long sandy braid to dangle over his left shoulder.

‘How long what?’I croak. I know full well what he means but I cannot bring myself to acknowledge the shame.

He laughs cruelly and moves towards the table where I’m seated. ‘Have you been fucking the stable boy?’ His blue eyes now fixed firmly on me, I winch from their dilation; and from the harshness of his words.

My response is caught in my throat; I have no idea how I’m going to contend with this. So I clench my jaw and let my tears drip onto the table.

‘Answer me woman!’ He bellows, smashing his heavy fist down onto the table top.

I finally meet his penetrating gaze; many years have passed since I have witnessed such fever cast out from those eyes. I bring the glass bottle back up to my lips for another swig of the rum; I’m already feeling light headed from its effects. But before the delicious liquid strikes my tongue Kalcha abruptly knocks the bottle from my hand, it smashes into a thousand pieces by the hearth; I stare at the remains, as if expecting the resolution to all life’s troubles to emerge from the shards; they do not, I must find my own answers. ‘That was rather foolish, and a waste of good liquor.’ I say, my tone somewhat slurred. I can hear his erratic breathing, ragged from anger; I should try to calm him, soothe him, tell him what he wants to hear, alas my drunken heart is not in agreement with my rational mind.

He grabs me roughly by the wrist, dragging me to my feet. His grasp is strong and hurting, and I can see the wetness shining in his eyes; I pray silently to the gods, requesting no fallen tears. I have never once seen him cry; he is a strong man, a man with great pride in his self discipline; in his mind’s eye crying is a sign of weakness, and I do not want to be the origin of his failing. ‘Why?’ He gasps. ‘Why destroy what we have?’ His gigantic chest is heaving, and I have to force myself to meet his judging gaze.

‘What exactly do we have Kalcha?’ I question, studying his furrowed brow.

‘We have nothing anymore! You’ve broken it.’ He pushes me violently backwards; I slam into the flimsy table causing it to scrape across the floor. I cry out from the shock, and steady myself, propping myself upright with my hands on the table top.

‘What we had was already broken! Do you not see? Every day passes in remoteness, our lives subsisting in tedium. We are two separate entities; I know not of your longings or your dreams! And you know not of mine. Coldness is what exists in this house, a loveless passionless home that declines to mend and to restore what was once so tender.’ I move towards him, my tears streaming. ‘Do you remember how we once were? The sensations we shared, they were so strong; like a constant reminder of how alive we were. I have since forgotten what that felt like.’ I reach out to touch his broad shoulder, but he jerks away from the contact; his eyes full of ire.

‘I do not want to hear your wretched excuses! You are mine and you let another defile you. This is a misdeed, and the gods shall punish you.’ He says the words detachedly, as if reciting a scripture. ‘People are laughing at me, saying I am fool for marrying such a whore.’

This cuts me, and I stare down at the floor. ‘I am not a whore.’ I say this defiantly, for I do not feel I am deserving of such a title. ‘I have done you wrong, and for that I am truly sorry, but I feel I have acted in a way that is true to me. I am a human being, Kalcha, who yearns for fulfilment and joy and indulgence and everything else that’s missing here!’

‘You disrespect me; as if fucking another is not slight enough, you now take it upon yourself to criticise me as a husband, as a man!’ He’s squaring up to me; the mass of his frame towering over me, intimidatingly.

‘I do not wish to the lay blame on you, for I have failed as a wife, and we have failed as a unit. You must have known we were in ruin? Do you not long for more?’ I plead with him to understand.

‘What I long for is a wife who does not fuck other men! Who stays true to me, who does not shame my name publicly then insult my prowess privately! You utter these trivial words to me, such as indulgence and fulfilment; what about respect and responsibility? I imagine those ideas never entered into your mind while that little shit was dishonouring you!’ He has his strong hands clamped about my shoulders, I feel his hot breath on my face; I am suitably terrified by the timbre of his voice.

I in no way felt dishonoured by Ranril, he does not understand. ‘He made me feel alive, truly alive! You care not of my wants!’ I scream into his face; immediately regretting the outburst. He swiftly back hands me, hard; the side of my face is burning and the intense stinging sensation forces out more tears. His grip has loosened so I struggle free and gawp at him in disbelief.

‘They are right, you are a whore.’ He says sadly.

‘No! I am a woman who wants to be satisfied by a man who can comprehend a woman’s body as more than a vessel for their own grunting thirty seconds of gratification!’ I do not care anymore, I shall tell him exactly how I feel. ‘Did you know that women can orgasm too? It’s not just a myth from the bygones.’ I have never seen him this angry, his face is burning, he’s clenching and un-clenching his fists. Good, he needs to feel some form of extreme emotion. ‘Ranril is aware, oh so very aware.’ I say mockingly; a sly grin spreading across my face.

‘Shut up! You filthy woman, shut up!’ He’s charging towards me like a bull, and before I have time to move he’s on me;  grabbing me by the hair and pulling my face towards his. ‘I want you out of my house, you fucking little bitch I want you out... You will find no friends in this town, you are to leave Vesale. And what’s more you can take your worthless stable boy with you; you’ll see what use his cock is then, out in the wilds, no roof and no protection; you’ll soon realise the full extent of your mistake.’ He hisses into my ear.

‘On the contrary, if I am rid of you and your impotence I believe I will be benefiting greatly!’ I stare back deeply into his eyes, challenging a rebuke.

He yanks my hair harder, causing me to gasp as my head is tilted further back. ‘Impotence? You little slut, I’ll show you impotence.’ He’s pushing me back towards the table, all the while his eyes piercing mine. I feel the wood of the table collide with the small of my back.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask, half in terror and half in thrill.

‘Teaching you a lesson.’ He rumbles in my ear. I try to push him away, but he is too sturdy and laughs at my attempt. I lash out at his face with my nails, try to kick at his shins, I’m wriggling and straining against his grasp; but it is all to no avail. He spins me around, my hair tangled around his arm; I know I cannot escape his clutches but nevertheless I still try. He picks me up, with his arms round my waist; I’m aware that my buttocks are pressed firmly against his groin and I’m kicking out like a demented foal.

I’m screaming at him to ‘Unhand me!’ But he hurls me onto the table face down; the impact rendering me breathless. My hair tumbles across my face, impairing my vision, I groan and try to push myself back up but he has his arm firmly across my back, pinning me to the table. He’s fumbling with his breeches, and then hitching up my skirt, all the while I’m struggling against his hold. His hand is sliding up the inside of my thigh; I hold my breath waiting for his heavy hand to grope at my sex. My brain is an assortment of contradictions, this is wrong I don’t want it, yet this sudden explosion of crazed passion is a thrill; I feel my cunt moisten. ‘Don’t, please Kalcha, I’m sorry..’I gasp loudly as his fingers probe at my slit. I try to thrust my hips forwards and away from his calloused fingers, but I’m stuck between him and the table. He moves his hand from my back and presses his palm firmly against my head, pushing my face further into the cold wood. All the while driving his fingers deep inside me, I give up the protest and start to buck backwards onto them, harder and faster, my breath so ragged that my hair is wafting from my tear stained face.

‘I don’t believe you’re sorry enough’ He brutally whispers in my ear, forcing another digit inside me, and pumping faster. I’m screaming out, my head mystified by my bodies reactions. I can feel his erect cock resting on my arse, he pulls out his fingers and I exhale forcefully; and with one swift movement wrenches my skirt from my hips, tossing it away. My body slumps down onto the wood beneath me, I try to scramble to my feet after the moments rest, but he’s grabbed my arms and is restraining them behind my back; so roughly that I whimper from the pain. He’s rubbing his cock against my soaking pussy and I’m moaning from its probing contact with my clit. ‘You’re enjoying this aren’t you? Is this what you’ve been wanting?’ He thrusts his prick inside me, harshly; and drives into me with such force that the table shunts forward. I scream out, rolling my head from side to side, trying to decide if this is pure pleasure or pure torture. He thrusts once more, and I cry out again in response. He lets up the pressure on my arms and grabs a fist full of my hair; pulling my ear to his lips. ‘Tell me you’re enjoying this, tell me whore!’ He pants heavily and thrusts deep with all his power. I scream again, and a new torrent of tears surge free.

‘I fucking hate you!’ I spit. He forces my face back down onto the table, quickly and harshly; the side of my face smashing against the wood.

He laughs cruelly. ‘I believe your dripping cunt disagrees!’ He thrusts yet again, my whole body tenses up, what is wrong with me, why is this so exhilarating?

 I want to scream at him to fuck me harder, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. ‘Is this all you’ve got Kalcha? You’re pathetic!’ I snarl. And with that he starts fucking me like a wild animal, coercing his cock with extreme might, over and over, the table scrapping along the flagged floor my breathing an erratic mess, and every one of his silent thrusts is a persecution most welcome.

‘You dirty little whore! You’re loving this aren’t you?’ He bellows, but before I have time to answer his thumb begins probing my arse hole; I gasp from the prospect, wiggling underneath his weight, and squealing as his fat thumb breaches my tight anus, he pushes it in up to the knuckle; his cock filling my pussy and his thumb exploring my arse. I can feel myself slipping away, the sensation so intense; my moaning and gasping a bewilderment of bliss. ‘Say it! Say you love it!’ He all but screams at me.

And despite myself I concur ‘Yes, I love it, I love it, oh fuck, fuck me!’

He laughs again, driving into me. ‘You’re a dirty little slut aren’t you?’ He pants, hammering away at me, twisting his thumb around my taut anus, the pinching sharp and painfully but yet so rousing.

‘Yes, I’m a dirty slut!’ I wheeze in agreement. ‘I’m so fucking disgusting, you need to punish me!’ I’m screaming these words at the top of my voice. The head of his cock banging against the very periphery of my pussy, the pressure so concentrated I feel like I am about to explode. With my arms free I push myself up and begin driving back into his impulsions, faster and harder like a crazed bitch on heat. He grabs my hair and pulls my head back again, until I’m screaming at him to stop. I fumble at my bodice, releasing my tits from their confines, my nakedness in stark contrast to his fully clad from, my vulnerability adding to the lurid pleasure. He pulls his thumb from my hole and draws his prick out slowly, I groan with incredibly hunger. ‘Don’t stop, I need you to ruin me!’ I pant. His large hands circle my waist and he flips me over, staring into his eyes is a surreal experience; my husband, the man whose touch I have ostracised for many years is fucking me like I crave, yet and all I can see reflected is pure disgust.

He puts his hand around my neck and the other on the outside of my thigh lifting me up and slamming me down onto the table. He keeps his cast-iron hand around my throat, and guides his cock inside me. ‘You’re already ruined!’ He sputters; then commences his animalist rutting, he’s squeezing my left breast so hard that I believe it might burst, he moves on to my nipple and begins pinching and twisting it, the hurting ecstasy. All the while he’s pushing me further back over the table till I’m laid completely flat, his hand still clinging to my throat, pinning me down. ‘Play with yourself’ He commands deeply.

I oblige and begin vigorously rubbing my swollen clitoris. My legs spread as far as they will go, but it doesn’t seem far enough, I want more of him, I want all of him inside me. I’m bucking up towards his cock and fondling my clit with such vehemence, I am so sodden; the tops of my thighs drenched in my own fluids, I know I am close. He’s digging the nails of his free hand into my thigh, I feel him pierce the skin, drawing blood. But I do not care, all that matters is my evident climax. He’s squeezing my throat now, my head is starting to spin, my body completely surrendered to his violent insatiability. ‘Fuck me like the gods are dead!’ I rasp; my body convulsing on the wooden surface. He’s so silent; I have not heard him groan once.

‘Fucking bitch!’ He roars. I do not look at him as he peaks; I close my eyes and ride my own wave of quivering pleasure, my clit pulsating with such power; my pussy throbbing like a gaping wound. My voice is reaching a pitch I have never heard before. I’m still shuddering as Kalcha falls onto me, panting from exhausting. I do not hold him and I do not acknowledge him.

He lies on me, his head resting on my heaving breasts; but only for a brief moment before he pushes himself away, turns his back to me and begins shoving his cock back into his trousers. I slowly sit up and watch the back of his head, longing for some kind of covering for my exposed body. The previous demented hunger has been replaced with shame.

‘Is that how you are for him?’ He asks, turning around slowly.

I swallow loudly, contemplating my reply. He’s looking at me as if I’m a stranger. ‘No.’ I whisper, for it is true, I have never been like that for anybody. I watch the blood from my wound trickle down the outside of my thigh, and his life seed run down the inside; I winch from sudden pain and stupidity.  

‘You’re lying.’ His gaze filled with utter disgust.

I wrap my arms around my breasts, his look more besmirching than the entire degraded act. ‘I am not. You are the only man who has ever made me act as such.’

He laughs his cruel laugh. ‘I made you do nothing; it is in you, you are filth.’

I look at him in utter dismay, the realisation of how little I actually know this man hits me. ‘And what does that make you?’

‘I am a man who needed to chastise his wayward wife, and in doing so has learnt the full extent of her wickedness.’
I snort at the absurdity of his words. ‘Believe what you want, I do not care. You cast me into a position that I had no physical command over, and now you slight me, because I managed to derive some form of pleasure from your foul play!’ I stand up straight and watch him soak in my naked appearance; I am not ashamed, why the fuck should I be? I pick up my bodice from the floor and march over to my discarded skirt, pulling it on.

‘I want you gone; believe me when I say your life here is over!’

‘My life was over the day I married you!’ I scream at him; I shall not shed any more tears over this animal. ‘Fate has finally been kind to me; I am free!’ I have no idea where I am to go; I have few friends in this town, fewer since Osur’s gossip-mongering.

‘Are you going to him?’ He asks, suddenly his tone sounds somewhat wounded.

‘Yes!’ I lie. Going to Ranril would be an inane move, my feelings for him are strong but he cannot offer me sanctuary, not from Kalcha, nor from the townsfolk, or from myself. I imagine I would be an inconvenience. I rush upstairs to pack my knapsack and change; my sorrow replaced with determination. When I re-enter the living room, he is sat at the table, his head in his hands, and his shoulders juddering as if repressing hysteria. I stand in the doorway not knowing what to say.

He tilts his face up towards me and I witness despair and fury imprinted in equal measures. ‘Do you love him?’ He asks.

I shrug my shoulders and shuffle awkwardly. ‘He is kind to me, he makes me feel..’

He holds up his hand to silence me. ‘If you go to him, you affront my name further. I cannot stand for this.’

‘Affront your name? I was unaware of your caste nobility.’ I mock, biting my tongue immediately after the fact.

He leaps up from his seat, ready to attack. ‘I am a respected trapper; my authority is abundant during excursions, it will not do, I cannot be mocked by my lessers.’

I have to stop myself from expressing the fact that he has not been on an excursion in nearly a year, and what little authority he did have will now be diminished. Instead I decide to aggravate him in another way. ‘I’m going to him! There is nothing you can do.’ And I make my way towards the front door.

But before I have time to open it fully, his hand is extending in-front of me, smashing it shut. ‘You’re wrong; there is something I can do.’
What does he mean? What the fuck is he planning on doing? Pure terror envelopes me; his expression is menacing, and it is not directed at me. ‘What? What are you going to do?’ I try to keep my voice steady but I know it is breaking.

‘The only thing a man can do when so clearly disrespected by another.’ He’s speaking like a man possessed. ‘Crush their instigation of war.’ My whole body runs cold. He barges past me and out into the street, I dart after him; my mind racing with thoughts of Ranril, lying broken

The Sanction of Desire Chapter One: Control

My story begins at a point where I had finally reached my threshold; my limit of impassive relationships, and meaningless trade. At a time when I was about to embark on a journey, the destination was still unknown but the drive had taken a dramatic volte-face. Many yearn for ardour and thrill, but nought ever befalls wanting, and my fate seemed equally sealed in that regard. Well, that was until somebody forced me to react in ways uncommon to me; not uncommon in my fantasies but in the reality of my actions. I have never been a risk taker, never one to act on impulse, not until that moment; it appears I have been a ticking time bomb for years. The events which transpired have changed me, the experiences I have had because of that chance occurrence have truly defined me as a woman. One small incident, which was beyond my control, has led me on an adventure that has awakened my body and my soul. It caused me to truly look at my life, and to never give up on what I believe to be important. You may judge me all you wish, condemn my selfishness and my covetousness; but I do not care, worse has been said. My life is mine to demolish or nurture, and that outcome is still undecided. But I feel I am in a better place now, although the safety net has been removed, so has the tedium. But enough with my sentimental reflections, and on with my tale of desire and awakening.                     

Kalcha kisses me on the mouth, fiercely, yet dispassionately; I am indifferent to the familiar sensation of his beard tickling my chin. His desire for me has long diminished but the severity of his nature is still plain. I have no more sorrow to bestow on the matter, such is life. After eight years together boredom sets in and one heeds less and less. His response to me is almost unkind in its indifference; how I long for real love and real passion. But my bed has been made and thus I must lay in it, isn’t that is what they say? We speak our detached goodbyes and I depart from our home, preparing myself for the grind of the office, the grind being more mentally draining than physical.

The office appears quiet; I am one of the first to arrive. With the beast trade not being what it once was, no one is in a rush to land. Sales are slow and the quality of the creatures weakened. I hate my job, it’s shit. I can’t make enough bullion for ample supplies and the leak in our roof has been an annoyance for too long now. Excursions beyond the compound are at a low, so Kalcha cannot provide like he once could, perhaps also a reason for his being in the doldrums.

The receptionist, Lorel, greets me as I enter; her kind smile almost a distraction from her knife ears. A defect not too severe, hence her appearance behind the desk rather than inside the selling stalls. I smile back, insincerely, and make my way to the stables. It smells of piss and sweat back here. This is where the real work transpires. I spy Ranril, shirtless, his olive skin glistening from perspiration; he’s shovelling muck, but somehow he performs the menial task with alluring flair. He catches my eye and smiles; all other thoughts tumble from my brain, that smile and his naked flesh has become the centre of my universe. For years now we have amused ourselves with coquettish talk, mostly harmless but from time to time crossing over into verbal debauchery but I am taken, therefore it is wrong. Our gaze lingers longer than it should between co workers. Flustered, I busy myself with a young silver scaled draglin; it’s squawking, so I throw it some strips of meat and wipe my hands on my skirt. I continue down the line of cages, most of them empty. I pause at one, occupied by what appears to be a beautiful woman if it wasn't for the thick coating of tiger fur that covers her form. She’s licking her pelt and purring until she spies me, subsequently hurling herself at the cage door hissing and clawing, thus why we cannot ship her. Beauty sells, but hostility is a deal breaker, not that I can blame the poor thing. I glance back at Ranril and contemplate his broad shoulders and narrow hips.

‘If she don’t sell soon, we’ll have to dispose of ‘er.’  It’s Osur, the manager, he must have appeared while my thoughts were elsewhere; his bald little head so shiny that I can almost perceive my reflection.

‘I know.’ I say sadly, even though that fate is probably far kinder than if she were sold.

‘You’d think a thing like ‘er would be snapped up, what with all those perv’s out there.’ He’s smirking at me, his eyes loitering on my chest. I know he’s thinking about fucking me; I shudder at the idea.

‘Maybe they’re scared she’ll bite their cock off.’ I say flatly, giving the greasy little toad a grin.

‘I think you have the truth of it there darling, now run along and make some appeals will ya, we need to shift at least one of these freaks by the end of the week.’ He winks at me, then reaches around my waist with his arm, I believe the destination is my arse but I grab his hand before it disembarks, and push it back towards him, smiling so as not to seem too abrupt; he is my boss after all. ‘Feisty little wench.’ He says cruelly, biting his bottom lip; I have an overwhelming urge to kick him but I resist, smile courteously, and make my way back to the office, shooting one last longing look at Ranril, envisaging him pushing me up against the filth stained wall, apt considering the things I want to do to him.

My list of clients is sparse; I do not know how I am going to perform my trade. Nobody is buying, as nobody can afford our prices. The economy is fucked, in addition to my roof and my marriage. What is a girl to do? Sometimes I fantasise about being born anything other than human; my options would be nonexistent, my future premeditated. I could never make a lapse judgment because I would have no judgement. We’re all looking for direction and answers, if I were born different I would have those thrust upon me in abundance. My life would be someone else’s to destroy, my responsibility would be obsolete. Instead I have to ponder day in and day out - which is the right way to go? A constant battle with my morals, an all out war with my contradictions. If I were a godly woman I could pray, I could follow the guidelines to rapture. My desires and beastly urges I could repress for fear of damnation, but I do not believe, and besides damnation looks like fun.

The scroll before me has become a blur, my mind is wondering to Kalcha and our doomed affiliation. I loved him profoundly, once; our passion ran deeper than the Rivers of Tiat. However now we just subsist in a lacklustre manner. His touch was once a rush of desire but now it repulses me to my core. There is no grand explanation for this; he has done me no injury. It is simply nature. Yet is it the same nature that decided man and woman should be joined for eternity, their love everlasting? Their eyes never wandering? Is nature something that has been inflicted on us from past human endeavours, our ancestors, a guide to what is right? Has it been forcibly fashioned over the generations to give us pre-eminence over other creatures? Or is nature simply the burning desire to fuck? A dirty phrase; if said openly by any woman would result in a public lashing. For we are better than this, our integrity wins over our desires. But I believe my integrity is my desire, I should embrace this, for there is no shame in fucking, besides, that is how we arrived here. The shame lies in the mistake of giving my life to someone else, when really the only person it belongs to is me. The shame is in believing the traditions and rituals handed to me by others, the same others that make me feel sullied by my thoughts. I am owned in every respect, in a way worse than the other creatures, for they have no delusions over their constraints.

‘This is a futile task Rosalyn, we should abandon this place!’ Toom throws back his head dramatically in feigned ruin. His mane of blonde hair dances across his shoulders.

I laugh. ‘You are right my friend, but where would we go?’I put my elbows on the oak desk and gaze into his emerald eyes.

‘Well, I shall head north to till my land and fuck my slaves!’ He’s grinning at me, an arrogant expression.

‘Good luck bearing north Toom, last I heard the lycanthrope rule most of that land.’ I look back down at my scroll and stare at it hard, as if willing more names to appear.

‘Ha! They are no match for I, my father was a wizard you know.’

‘Yes I’m sure if you direct that bit of information at them they will run screaming for the hills’ I roll my eyes and start to contemplate Ranril’s back muscles, my eyes glaze over.

‘Sarcasm is not befitting of a lady, but then I suppose..’

‘I’m not a lady?’ I cut him off and dare him to continue with his rebuke.

He laughs and waves away the air of tension. ‘Now, now princess, these are trying times, but let us not fight among ourselves.’ It’s hard to be annoyed with Toom, besides he meant no harm. I presume it’s just my own apprehensions.

The morning drags, not a soul enters the office. Toom’s conversation soon drifts away and I can’t bring myself to talk to Lorel, for obvious reasons. How I long to head into the stables and converse with Ranril, but I have no excuse for being there. So I busy myself with tidying, conforming to the stereotype expected of me. I don’t know how much more of this monotony I can take. Osur walks by my desk and smirks; the ugly little shit makes my skin crawl.

‘Ros, could you step into my office for a minute please?’ he asks, his voice dripping like oil.

‘Yes of course.’ I push back my chair and stand, my sandals swishing with the rushes.

His office is a cramped space that stinks of musk and genitalia. It is best to avoid this room at all costs; I dread to think why he has summoned me.

‘Is everything ok?’ he asks, with what I imagine he believes is a concerned tone but in reality just sounds sinister.

‘Yes everything is great.’ I lie.

‘Ummm, you seem, preoccupied, you’re not performing as well as you should be.’ He’s closing the door, I suddenly feel very claustrophobic.

‘It’s difficult to perform to an empty theatre.’ He’s standing awfully close to me; I can practically smell his rank breath.

‘A girl as lovely as you certainly needs an audience.’ His stare is unnerving, as if I’m naked under his gaze.

I swallow and say ‘It would be helpful.’  He’s sitting on his desk directly in front of me, his fat little legs spread out, as if in offering.

‘If I can be helpful to you in any way, just say.’ He’s rubbing his thighs; if this wasn’t so comical I think I would be sick.

‘I can’t think of anything right now, but thank you’. Avoiding all eye contact I turn to leave. But he grabs my wrist, spins me around and pulls me in-between his legs. I slam into his pigeon chest; the force of the maneuver winding me.

‘I don’t think you’re quite getting this are you girl?’ His forged concern suddenly replaced with malice   

‘No, no I think I get it.’ He’s still got hold of my wrist and I try unsuccessfully to push him away with my free hand. But he’s stronger than he looks; his other hand is fumbling at my skirt, hitching it up. I gasp as he gropes clumsily at my crotch.

‘Come on love, don’t be a fucking tease.’ He rasps in my ear.

‘Get off me!’ I start clawing at his eyes. Who does he think he is? He has no right! I dig my nails in harder, excited by the prospective pop of an eyeball. He cries out and loosens his grasp. I stumble backwards, breathing heavily from fear. ‘I quit, you disgusting little man, I fucking quit!’ Tears are rolling down my cheeks. Three years I have put up with his tasteless behavior, and for what? Why have I subjected myself to such degradation. Just another example of control, that’s all anyone ever wants to do! And I have enabled their conduct for too long.

‘You fucking little whore!’ His eye is bleeding; some small form of retribution. He’s wiping at it erratically. 

‘You’ll not find any more work, I’ll make sure of it, I will tell everyone what a vile slut you are, especially that husband of yours, by the time I’ve finished no one will want anything more to do with you!’ Rage is exuding from his body; fear is shrouding mine. I don’t know what to say, so I turn and flee, as he follows me to the door shouting. ‘Be gone with you!’ following it up with. ‘She attacked me! Completely unprovoked, she attacked me! Someone call the city watch!’

I run as fast as I can, past Toom and then Lorel, I don’t look at either of them, I feel so ashamed. The afternoon sunlight greets me like a slap in the face. I should go home and tell Kalcha what has happened, but I know the outcome, it will have been my fault. I will have led him on, that is what women are like, and it is never a man’s fault for misinterpreting a woman’s manner. So I decide to walk, with no destination in mind.

Control, that is all anyone ever wants. I’ve been part of the system for years, selling these creatures into slavery, because I have been conditioned; this is the way it shall be, this is the way it has always been. Our history of merciless deeds an excuse for our future. I know what I should do, I double back on myself and head in the direction I already trod.

The stable is empty of people, I am slightly disappointed Ranril is not preset, but it’s probably for the best. I spy the key cupboard on the far wall and I know full well that it will be unlocked. I begin with the nearest gate, where the draglin is housed.

‘What are you doing?’ A deep, honeyed voice sounds from behind me.

I spin around, shocked. ‘I....I’m setting them free!’ I cry at Ranril, my voice sounds pathetic in comparison.

‘Do you think that wise?’ He cocks his lovely head on a side as if in great need of my reply.

‘Who are we to determine their fate?’ I can feel hot tears pricking my cheeks.

‘They are animals Rosalyn, they care not of fate; yes some may have similar forms to us but believe me they are not like us.’ His voice is a source of calm.

‘Because they are not like us they deserve this?’ I wave my arms around indicating the squalid conditions. 

‘They should be free.’

‘A lovely sentiment. But if you set these things free on the city, many civilians will die at your hand.’ He’s moving towards me and the closer he gets the better he looks. My hands are shaking.

‘Then, I shall take them beyond the walls!’ I realise how ridiculous this sounds, but I feel backing down now will make me look a fool.

He laughs. ‘I admire your benevolent nature, you've hid it well.’ He’s stood right before me, his kind dark eyes, his lovely mouth and perfect nose only inches away from mine. ‘Why are you crying?’ He reaches up and gently brushes away a tear from my cheek.

I don’t want to tell him what happened, for fear he would look at me differently, as I'm very much enjoying the way he’s looking at me now. ‘I'm crying because of all the hurt in the world.’ Which is partially true, but I still have to stop myself from rolling my eyes at such a cloying response. 

He’s laughing again, a beautiful sound that makes my soul sing. ‘Such a compassionate spirit.’ He says this with great sarcasm; and I immediately fall more in love with him.

I laugh, all my hurt and humiliation suddenly forgotten. ‘It’s a curse, really.’ Our faces are getting closer; I can feel his warm breath on my forehead, my whole body tingles in anticipation. Our lips are pressed together; not one part of this feels wrong as his tongue explores my wanting mouth. I moan slightly and press my body against his naked chest. Something is happening inside my head, something I have never experienced until now, a fizzing - no it’s more intense than that; a detonation of my psyche, or to put it plainly, magic. It feels like fucking magic. His hands clasp around my arse, pushing my groin into his. He suddenly pulls away from me and I feel my whole world collapse.

‘In here.’ He pulls me in the direction of an empty cage; he could be dragging me to hell and I would still eagerly follow. The  growling of the tiger women is becoming more intense, she’s snapping at the bars in a fury, but I don’t care, let her watch on in frustration. I’m on my back, mingling with the coarse hay that scratches at my bare arms, and Ranril is tearing at my bodice. I’m tugging at his breaches, longing to clasp his member and fondle it rigid. I’m gasping for air, through pure yearning and coveting the weight of his solid body.  My pert breasts are finally free; the cool air puckers my aroused nipples further. He pulls away from my lips and begins covering my neck with kisses, moving onto my chest he encloses my nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting at it playfully; I let out a loud groan, the sensitivity a wonder. I’m grinding against his groin, blissful of his hard bulge that I’ve wrought through my sexuality.

‘By the love of the gods, Ranril, fuck me!’ I cry out, completely senseless to our discretion.

He abruptly sits back on his haunches and with one swift expert movement wrenches off my skirt and undergarments. I let out an involuntary giggle, and look deep into his beautiful eyes, he laughs his lilting laugh. 

‘My dear, it would an honour.’ I’m utterly aware of my nakedness, it feels fitting to his sexual fibre; this is how things should be. I wet my thumb and index finger and start tweaking my rock hard nipple, and with my other hand reach down and stroke, very softly, at my swollen sex. Ranril watches me as I pleasure myself, the hunger in his eyes incredibly apparent. I roll back my head, my whole body trembling from the physical sensations and the erotica of having this magnificent looking spectator. I whimper, and insert three fingers into my dripping cunt, longing for Ranril’s weight to slap against my naked form. I lift my buttocks off the hay, plunging forcefully with my digits. I look intensely at him; his cock is in his hand, he’s stroking it lovingly and scrutinising my every move. I watch his hand work his swollen shaft. His member is rock hard, fat, and lengthy, how I long for him to impale me. He grabs my thighs roughly and pulls my onto his lap, the strength in his embrace takes my breath away. I push my mouth against his and our tongues wantonly explore each other’s opening. He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me up slightly, positioning me over his throbbing cock. My breasts press against his chest, skin on skin. I want him so much I want to be him, be inside him, wear him! I’m panting, I’ve never sought anything this much. Once his cock is inside me, all my struggles will be resolved; his dick like a pardoning implement.

I drive down onto his cock, which such force I’m rendered breathless, he cries out and buries his face in my neck. I dig my nails into his back, gasp and lift my weight up, slamming it back down onto him. The slapping of naked flesh is exhilarating, our sweaty bodies so close that we are practically one. His cock so deep inside me, that it could be mine. We’re crying out, grunting and moaning, Ranril’s vociferous mode a stark contrast to Kalcha’s mute love making. We’re oblivious to our surroundings, all else is inconsequential. I can’t think beyond Ranril’s body, his quick shoves in response to my grinding cunt, his breath jagged and deep in my ear, the smell of his tanned body, sweat and sex and animals.

He pushes me onto my back, with brute force, he could do serious harm to me if he so wished, and the thought makes me giddy. I spread my legs as far as I can and guide him inside me, he’s become a man possessed, thrusting into me brutally, I’m crying out from pain and pleasure, I don’t want him to stop, I wrap my legs around him and push up to greet his sharp propulsions. I feel like I’m about to collide with a wave of pleasure, it’s very lucid at first but every throbbing plunge brings about a greater more robust surge; the intensity begins to scare me, I try to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation, but Ranril has me pinned to the ground, I try to focus on the snarling tiger woman, I was unaware of her raucous behaviour, she is practically howling now but it sounds far off, like I’m underwater. So I have no choice but to ride it; to give into the encompassing wave.

I’m so awakened by his body, every one of my senses is in tune with him; it is all about him. I scream out and grasp at his sweaty hair, he takes this as a sign to drive into me even harder, my whole body clenches like a fist, then relaxes, my pussy tightening around his cock. Wave after wave of blissful ecstasy slaps against me. My clitoris is throbbing; my entire cunt is alive. He lifts his head up from my neck and his eyes penetrate me. He smiles, and I watch his face crumple, he looks as though he’s about to cry. ‘Oh fuck, oh fuck. .’ He moans. He’s still driving into me, but we both know he should be pulling out. I’m still gasping and writhing from my own climax, so part of me does not want him to vacate. ‘I’m gonna, I’m gonna...’ He draws himself back and onto his elbows. There is a muffled squelching as he withdraws, I immediately begin to slap at my sopping groin, endeavouring to keep the fire alive. He straddles my stomach, quickly working his cock. I reach under and cup his balls, squeezing them slightly; I’m still writhing and moaning. He lets out one final cry as his seed jets out and across my tits, it’s gushing everywhere and my eyes are wide with delightful surprise. Ranril’s mouth is hanging open, his pleasure so intense that it could be confused with pain. His body produces a final shudder before he slumps back. It was superb to witness him reach such heights, knowing that it was I who drove him there. I’m biting my lip and smiling audaciously at him, my eyes alive with impish delight, his clouded over with elation and his smile a sure sign of fulfilment. He shuffles back on his knees and drops down onto me, the gentle collision of naked flesh causes me to laugh out. I wrap my arms and legs around him, never wanting him to escape the pose. He props himself up on his elbows and gentle brushes my hair from my face. ‘You’re something else, you know that?’ He pants.  

‘Yes, I know.’ I say playfully.

He laughs and flops onto his back; we’re still breathing heavily. I reach for some of the flattened hay and try to remove his come from my breasts. ‘Here let me.’ He takes the hay from me and, courteously as one can in such a situation, begins dabbing at my chest. It’s all very surreal that I have to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. He beams back at me, discards the soiled hay, and kisses me passionately on the mouth, running his hands all over my naked body; I feel my nipples turn rigid.   

‘Well, well, well. Lookie what we got here.’ A horrible oily voice sounds from the entrance.

Horror pulses through my body, followed closely by humiliation. I grope frantically for my clothes, anything to cover my exposed frame. ‘It appears I was right about you, slut.’ He spits the words; I can practically feel his saliva on my bare skin. I look at Ranril; he’s pulling on his breaches somewhat calmly, I’m shaking.

‘Sorry Ser. I understand the inappropriateness of. ..’ Ranril is cut off.

‘Do you boy? And do you understand this? You’re fired!’ His face is bright red and steam is practically emitting from his ears. He looks at me and says. ‘You, I’ve already fired! Now get out, this is an upmarket establishment, I don’t need it bringing down with whores like you!’

He has nothing over me anymore; I should be screaming and shouting at the bigoted predator. I should be calling him out on all his wrong doings. But instead I stand there, fumbling with the clasp on my bodice. I can feel tears welling up; I can feel my cheeks burning from shame and rage. Say something you stupid girl! ‘One day Osur, you will get what is coming to you. You chauvinist piece of pig shit.’ I spurt my bile coated words at him, my eyes bearing into his very soul. I’m mentally tearing chucks of flesh from bone. ‘And you didn’t fire me, I quit!’ I have clearly up upended him, if only for a fleeting moment, but that is enough. Even Ranril looks taken aback.

‘Get out! Get out! Both of you get out!’ He looks as though he is about to implode. ‘Wait till I spread this around Vesale, everybody will know! You’re finished.’ He’s clenching his fists and shaking. His bald little head looks like a cannon ball ready to blow.

I turn from the disgusting man and make my way from the cell, Ranril follows me. As I pass the Tiger Woman I am convinced that she winks at me. We exit through the back door and out into the glaring sunlight.

‘Sorry.’ I say, for I truly am, I did not mean for him to become jobless.

He laughs in reply. ‘No worries lovely, it was a shit job anyway. So I can honestly say you were worth it.’

‘Oh thanks!’ I say, playfully punching him on the arm.

‘You know what I mean.’ A warning should come with his smile.   

‘I have to get home; I need to see Kalcha before someone else does.’ I study his face for any sign of disappointment. If he feels it, he hides it well.

‘I understand.’ He nods and shields his eyes from the sun with his hand. ‘I need to get looking for a new job.’

‘If you find anything let me know.’ I want to embrace him; and smother him in kisses, but I know I cannot.

‘Sure thing.’ We’re stood staring at each other; I don’t want to look away, for if I do he will be gone, and when he’s gone the seriousness of my circumstance will crash down upon me like an anvil.

What have I done? I ask myself. I’m at home sitting in the kitchen nursing a bottle of rum. My head is in my hands and I’m crying, although no tears fall, as my limit is spent. Kalcha is nowhere to be seen, and this fills me with dread. He’ll be at the tavern and the rumours will be rife. He knows.

Its times like this you realises how much you could lose, even though in fantasy you have thrown it away a hundred times. Am I distressed because I will lose my home, I will be an outcast, people will spit at me in the street, and I will be driven from the safety of Vesale’s walls? Or because I have betrayed and deeply hurt someone I care for? When I reflect on the matter this way I know I fear more for myself than Kalcha. I knock back another mouthful of the delicious comforting rum. Will he even care about the idea of Ranril’s hands on my naked body, how much I craved him, desired him? Or will the humiliation that others know be the sting? This is the answer I seek, for if it is the latter my guilt will be diminished.

The front door slams shut, I practically leap out of my seat, spilling the rum down the front of my bodice; I curse loudly at the waste. An eternity seems to pass before he appears in the door way, his great hulking mass a silhouette of doom. He steps into the light of the kitchen; His face like an open book of candour, I need not ponder the question any longer. He knows. He cares, deeply. I lose all control, and weep with raw guilt.