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.