Hunted [open for one female, details within]

[_kyrie_]

The warrior's abrupt movments disturb Danni's sleep, a soft moan slips from between her full, rosey lips. She dreams disturbed images, images that frighten and terrify her yet dreams she can not fully understand.

Her legs move fitfully, the dark marks there burning hotly just before the warrior awakes. Her face, dirty and bruised, displays high cheekbones, her dark auburn lashes laying innocently on skin sprinkled with a faint hint of freckle across her nose. Her lips turn down in a frown as she dreams.

The warrior looks to her, noting the dark bruise and dried blood on her temple. A cut surrounded by soft, swollen tissue issues from the corner of her small mouth.

As she moves in her sleep, one hand rises to tuck beneath her cheek in a childlike motion. Surrounding her wrist, the deep imprinted bruises placed there by his own hand the night before.

 

[Svenski]

Her motions disturb his morbid reverie and he begins to take in his surroundings properly. The cottage is familiar to him but his situation surprises him nonetheless. He looks round and is just short of startled at the woman curled up beside where he slept. Just what exactly happened after he fell in the lean-to barn yesterday? He realises he has been stripped to the waist, that his side has been treated. He gazes at this sleeping woman beside him with no small amount of admiration, inwardly praises her strength.

Without moving, he looks over her wounds, mostly bruises though some of them severe. He catalogues each that he can see; nasty bruise on her temple, split and scabbed; cut and bruise at the corner of her mouth; throttle marks on her throat; rope burns on both wrists. Her wrists... another crushing bruise from a large and powerful hand. He knew he had looked her over before, checking for damage, albeit briefly. He doesn't remember that bruise on her wrist.

His heart thumps. He really cannot remember that bruise and so... so it must have been him. And yet she is still here. He hurt her and yet she stays. He puzzles over this a moment but arrives at no answer, just the same question. What exactly happened after he lost consciousness? Clearly, she knows but he decides that he should not wake her just to sate his curiosity. He looks at his hands, back to the swollen marks on her wrist, then sighs quietly. Certainly his hand, certainly his fault. Nothing to be done about at, at least not right this second.

So he quietly slips from under the blanket she covered him with, then pulls it up over her shoulder to keep her warm. He spares her another look. Strong, and achingly beautiful. He thinks to caress her cheek, to apologise for the hurt, but both seem inappropriate and doubly so when his still caked in dried gore. He casts the thought aside and pads over to the stone water basin. There he strips entirely naked, removing his blood-spattered clothes in a heap in the middle of the floor next to his boots. He looks himself over, particularly his side where the blade sliced into his ribs. So many fights, so many scars, the wound now another to add to his collection knit together as though it had been many months not just so many hours. No other signs of wounding, no other damage.

His frame is large and his body strong but they'd make no statues to his physique except, perhaps, in a hall of brutal, fearsome warriors meant to strike fear and awe into those who saw them. One might imagine him stood there in stone, growling silently on a giant plinth, an axe in one hand, severed head in the other; that diorama might suit him well. Perhaps they'd even fashion him naked, chiselling out the definition in his abs, the power chorded into his thighs, the wide girth of his sex, each scar and line scored into the statue's surface to mark each battle fought, each mistake he's made.

He pumps water into the basin, its sink hole stopped with a wooden plug, then sets about washing away the past. Each fleck of blood, someone else's memory, someone else's hope, drifting away on the short-lived ripples in the basin. He starts with his hands and moves up his arms, scrubbing with his fingernails and a piece of torn material he finds there, already dirtied but much cleaner than him. It's a meditation for him, a ritual dedicated to moving beyond that which has been into that which is. His body, his legs, all washed, all cleansed, he removes a straight razor from his pack stored at the bottom of the wardrobe and shaves his cheeks and chin, carefully cutting away the blood-caked bristles. The razor back in its sheath, he lets the water run away, watches the blood and filth spiral away down the drain in a mesmerising swirl.

He runs a cleaned hand through his hair, coming away with yet more blood. Always more blood, always more to be done. He pumps the crank once again to fill the basin most of the way full, patiently waiting. He stops to contemplate his reflection in the water, barely visible in the low light, but he doesn't really see himself for his thoughts drift far away. He takes a breath and plunges his head under the water. There he waits, the world drowned away 'til there is only him. He's struck by how peaceful life when removed from the world at large but he does not ponder this for long. His hands scrub through his hair; though short, blood has a way of getting into everything and it takes him a little to pull the clots free. His lungs start to burn, panic rises, adrenaline flows, but he holds just a little longer. Maybe today will be the day he dies? Then he remembers her, the bruise on her wrist, her sleeping innocence, the lines of her face and the smoothness of her lips and he remembers a long lost love and how he couldn't protect her. This one, this one he'll protect.

He pulls his head from the water and gasps for air, rivulets streaming down his body from the basin. His hand goes to his face to wipe away the water, clear his eyes. Back to reality, back to now. Today, he'll live.

 

[_kyrie_]

His loud gasp for air followed by the splash of water woke Danni from her troubled sleep. She sat up quickly, freezing at the site which greeted her from the farthest end of the cottage. The warrior stood before her naked, water sluicing down his huge body, his steel blue eyes locked on hers. Her face turned scarlet, before she lowered her eyes to the floor.

Her breathing quick and ragged, Danni turned her back on him. Standing before her was the vision of a man she had only caught glimpses of the night before. He had shaved the hair from his face and washed the gore off his skin. The air within the cabin was chilly but not frigid. She had not noticed how the cold water turned the nipples on his chest to tight, brown peaks or how his well defined waist had dropped down to…to…

Gathering the quilt up to fold and set aside, Danni took a deep, calming breath.

“I’m sorry. I… I didn’t realize you.. you were bathing.” Her voice dropped off in the silence.

“I’ll…just see to the stew… this morning then.”

Danni rose with her back to him, reaching within the fireplace to stir the warming stew. She did not notice how his eyes lingered on her small form, the curves even more obvious through the thinning material of the shepherd’s clothing she wore. Nor did she notice how they darkened and swirled when she bent to put more logs on the fire, using the cast iron poker to stir the embers into flame, igniting the well placed logs.

Danni slipped a finger into the stew, testing its heat before bending once again to push a burning log beneath the pot to heat it more to her satisfaction. Putting the poker back into place, she stood up but did not turn around.

After what seemed liked hours, she heard movement but dared not turn around.

“Umm, if you would be so .. kind as to let me know when you are dressed then I can…”

Danni jumped when one of his big hands reached out to touch her shoulder, standing mere inches behind her.

 

[Svenski]

The flush across her cheeks, her embarrassed stammer, her downcast eyes, he smiles to himself at all of these, finds them endearing. Cute comes to mind, though he thinks of it with a womanly flavour to it. He cannot help but appreciate her curves, the roll of her hips through the pants she has appropriated. Perhaps one of Sessalie's knights would leave her to her propriety, maybe even apologise for the unwitting ambush on her senses. But only the noblest, more pure of all knights could stand naked in front of an attractive, nubile woman with no more than a few steps and a piece of thin material between them and not react like a man. His sex thickens but he calms his breathing to calm his pulse so that he does not walk across the room with his manhood at attention between them.

Young, beautiful and not yet used to the sight of a man's naked flesh he realises he must intervene. He tells himself it is for her safety and, in that, he knows he is right, even if it is not the entire story. He reaches out and places one hand on her shoulder, gently but deliberately. He keeps his voice low so as not to startle her, but his tone is firm, considered, "This may be the first time you have seen me unclothed but it won't be the last." He regrets bringing the gravity of her situation back to light but knows that he must make her understand, "The creature is still out there looking for you. It is using every black art and every resource it can but while you stay near me it cannot find you, at least not through its sorcery. But it may send other agents, both human and otherwise, and if we're separated, if you're hiding your eyes because I'm not fully dressed or you're hiding behind a door because you're afraid I might see you then it can come between us, pull you away from my protection, and then it can and will hurt you." He tries to find more words, a better way to explain. How can he let her know that this is deadly serious, literally, and that girlish bashfulness could lead her to a slip that might lead her into harm.

He thinks for more reasons but the words don't come. He's always been a man of action, though, so he reaches out for the thing he knows. Still quiet but now firm too, he tells her, "Turn around. Look at me. Then tell me that you'll stay close." He keeps his eyes levelled towards her looking to meet her turning back, looking to see that she understands the situation, that she'll work with him to keep herself safe.

 

[_kyrie_]

Danni's breathing was sharp and shallow. The touch of his heavy hand on her shoulder sending arc's of fiery electricity through her trembling body. She knew he was standing there behind, unclothed. She heard the lust in his voice as he spoke, though he tried to disguise it with kind words.

Danni's anger came to her rescue, she was tried of being afraid. She was tired of not knowing what this 'thing' was that was after her nor why. And she was tired of wondering who and what this giant of a man was.

Danni turned more quickly than he had expected, her hip just grazing the tip of his stout manhood. Unconsciously placing her arms across her chest in an age old defensive move, she locked her green eyes with his. They sparkled with anger. Her words, chosen carefully, smacked of her impatience with the situation and with him.

"There! Now... explain. Explain what in God's name happened last night! Explain why this.. this... thing is after me.. why it has chosen me of all people? And while you're at it Mister.....explain THAT!" Danni poked the now quiet tattoo adorning the solid wall of his chest forcefully.

 

[Svenski]

Good, he thinks to himself, great even. She has fire and spirit. He knows she'll need both, probably in spades, before this is all done. At least she is fighting, he thinks. A small smile touches his lips, which only seems to make her more angry, but he is so pleased that she has not given up and gone cold with fear that he cannot make himself remove the expression. However, he needs to talk with her and so he chooses discretion over a valour and uses one large hand to rub his chin, scritch at the corner of his mouth with a thumb, masking his expression somewhat. In his thinking, he does not pay the appearance of his manhood any heed as it thickens further agitated -- or should that be excited -- by her inadvertant touch.

He nods, thoughtfully, then begins, "There's a lot to tell... on both accounts." She looks fierce when she's angry, he thinks. He remembers flashes of the night in the cellar, of her hands on the longsword, overbalanced but not unskilled. In the right hands, with the right knowledge, she could stand up well for herself. "I'll answer your questions, and any others you have for me, as best I can. I'm not much of a storyteller, though, so you'll have to bear with me."

All this talking is hungry work and he's suddenly struck by the need to eat. "I tell you what, if you get me a bowl of whatever you've kindly made then I'll put some clothes on and we'll both be a little happier. Then, then I'll tell you what I know. How's that?"

 

[_kyrie_]

Danni found herself mesmerized by his hand as he scratched the corner of his mouth and traced his jaw. His size is overbearing yet comforting. The same hand that bruised her wrist, nearly breaking bone in the night; now looked, intriguing. She noted he had cleaned his nails and although slightly broken, they had been well-kept in the past.

She fought the urge to look down the length of him. As he spoke he moved in closer to make his point. And his point is what she felt now pressed against the soft skin of her belly. She never thought she would have wished for her underskirts and corsets, but if there were ever a time she needed them, it was now.

Unknowingly her eyes glistened, her lips parted slightly expelling a soft breath before she spoke.

"Fine...go... do whatever it is.. you need to do to .. cover yourself then." Her eyes locked once again on his, she didn't move a muscle.

 

[Svenski]

To his mind, her manner calls for some teasing but she looks neither in the mood and he knows that he needs to talk to her reasonably, not in argument. Discretion again, it seems. He realises his length brushes against her and for a moment he finds it hard to turn away at all. He could reach out, take her hand, put it on him, curl her fingers round his shaft. These thoughts come unbidden and sometimes he wonders how much of them are really him and what part his demon plays in their suggestion. He guesses he might never know.

But he has declared a plan and decides he better keep to it, if only so that they may talk more easily. Marcus turns away and moves back to the wardrobe in the bed area. From his pack his pulls clothes, black faded to grey; heavy, hard-wearing trousers and a simple long-sleeved shirt, laced between the chest and the collar. He collects his boots from by the basin where he discarded them earlier but realises they still need to be washed down and this hardly seems the time. Besides, he's hungry and she's waiting. He shrugs and without further detour he moves to the fur-covered bench and sits at one side, facing the fire.

There he gathers his thoughts for a moment, considering where to begin. His eyes grow distant, as though watching a scene from far away or, more likely, things long past. "You've asked me a question about you and asked me a question about me," he ponders out loud, then to Danni, "Which would you like answered first?"

 

[_kyrie_]

Danni saw him move away after watching the play of emotions as they crossed his face and settled in his eyes. She could not help but admire the subtle play of muscles in his legs and the easy way his large body moved throughout the cottage. Catching herself, she lowered her eyes before starring overlong at that gorgeous roundness sitting atop those strong legs.

Who was this enigmatic man that both terrified and intrigued her at the same time? And what was this force she felt that drew her to him, just like Agnus was always telling her, ‘a moth to a flame?’ Only this time, a princess to a beast.

Danni turned quickly, nearly upsetting the pot of stew with her motions. The handle of the pot was scorching, having been heated through the night. Turning with the quiet authority bred into her genes, Danni bid Marcus toss her a piece of the torn dress to protect her hands from the heat of the fire. His words cut across her mind as she caught the piece of cotton deftly in her right hand.

“You've asked me a question about you and asked me a question about me," he ponders out loud, then to Danni, "Which would you like answered first?"

“Why do I get the feeling the answer will be the same for both questions then?” She asked, the Sessalie accent giving a slight lilt to her speech.

 

[Svenski]

Marcus nods, "They have their similarities, certainly, but they are not the same." He scritches at his chin, wishing he'd had a soap and a mirror to shave himself more closely. It would have to do, though. "I think, then, I shall tell you what I can about you." He nods, decided in his direction, "Yes, that would be best, to start with."

But where to begin? Like all such tales, there's no clear beginning as for every event there is one that came before. He struggles with that a moment before realising that he just needs to pick something and start there. He remembers her question and starts with that. "Last night, in that cellar, you were being given to an elder demon." His voice isn't rushed but he's not savouring the telling either. Instead, he tries to find the right words, explain what he means, and he struggles to do this quickly and clearly so he keeps his pace measured to allow himself time to think. "The creature we killed in that old man's body was one of its servants, sent to find you, capture you, and offer you into eternal servitude." The story is harder than he thought and his face, previously lightened by her fiery nature, slowly turns sad. His eyes gaze into the fire as though the tongues of flame whisper the tale to him. "It's complicated, probably more than I really understand, but I figure that you must be one of the ruling line for this kingdom because it's through blood that they take control."

He shakes his head, realising he has missed a bit and he rubs his head to try to make the story straight, "See, demons just want power and more power but they cannot live in this world without help. They have to be invited in and then they need to somehow bind themselves into the world. I don't really know how it all works in the details but blood is always involved." Always blood. His, their's, blood of demons, blood of innocents. So much blood.

"But the blood of a peasant is a piss poor liquor for a demon and grants them little power in this world. Instead, they need to control those who already control much of this world. Kings and cardinals, queens and princesses, people with power over the people. Then the demon's power takes control of everything in their purview and binds it to itself." He leans forward, settling his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, "And with that binding, with that control, everything falls away, all lawful order, just everlasting servitude to the demon."

He looks up to find Danni, his expression a mixture of sadness and pain, "So you must be a queen or a princess because an elder demon would accept nothing less and you were chosen because of your blood, because the demon would enjoy torturing your spirit, because you're a good person and it loves the violation of that goodness. It has chosen you and that's why you're being hunted. And nothing more." How can he apologise when it was not his choice, not his fault? Somehow, though, he feels the world owes Danni an apology, "I'm sorry for you that this has all turned out like this but it is what it is."

No, just an apology won't cut it. How can he just tell her that she'll be hunted without mercy and without end and let her fall into grief-stricken despair. If she gives in, she'll be lost, just a matter of time. So he lets his resolve take hold of his voice, stiffens his features, lets his intensity take hold, "But you have escaped its grasp and with my help we can take you out of reach, keep you safe, and in doing so keep the people of this kingdom safe."

 

[_kyrie_]

"So you must be a queen or a princess because an elder demon would accept nothing less and you were chosen because of your blood, because the demon would enjoy torturing your spirit, because you're a good person and it loves the violation of that goodness. It has chosen you and that's why you're being hunted. And nothing more."

Danni did not raise her eyes to that, as she ladled the hot stew into the two tin bowls Marcus had placed on the table. There was only one spoon, which she laid beside his bowl. There was also only one tin cup.

Pulling out the second chair, Danni sat gracefully upon the rickety wood, looking for all the world as though she had been born in and to the small stone cottage instead of into the royalty of Sessalie.

Silently, she bowed her head. Praying quietly to the Good Spirits for strength and guidance as she did before every meal. This time she also prayed that the Good Spirits grace the big warrior with the same before she touched the third finger of her right hand to her forehead and opened her eyes.

Her deep green eyes looked up to find those of the warrior locked on hers. A strange, almost quizzical look in his eye. As she looked closer, she thought to see swirls of dark mist residing there as well before he blinked and the illusion disappeared.

Danni lifted the hot tin bowl to her lips, sipping the stew daintily. Her eyes never left those of the warrior as he sat transfixed by her side.

 

[Svenski]

Marcus finds the fire again, "I guess that brings me to me." He doesn't take up the spoon nor make a move to eat. He tries to find the words that explain how he is a demon without terrifying the life out of her. He remembers her jabbing him in the chest, right over the binding tattooed there. Has she seen something? He returns to his waking thought and suddenly he realises Danni must know, that something must have slipped through while he was unconscious. No sense in being cagey, then. Time to tip his hand entirely.

"You pointed at the tattoo on my chest, right?" He brings his focus back to the table and there he finds her looking at him intently, unwavering. Nothing for it; straight ahead, Marcus, straight ahead. "The symbols there are marks of binding, a sorcery of a fashion, that hold a demon inside me." There, it's said. He gives her no chance to intervene, knowing that he may not get another chance to explain if he does not finish now. "It is a servant demon in the fashion we faced in the cellar, not an elder infernal. But unlike that creature this one cannot escape to find another host if I die; it dies with me. That's part of what the tattoo means. But it also means that I have some control over the demon, more or less."

What else can he say? He breaks off, running out of steam. What else is there to say? He has made his admission, revealed that which many would kill him for without a further hesitation. He looks at her, almost expectantly, wondering if she'll run from the cottage in a scream or become fierce and try to fight him. He feels a tension move into his posture, battle readiness automatically taking hold, but he wills it away. He'll not fight this one if she does come at him.

 

[_kyrie_]

Danni stopped the soup midway to her mouth.

"The symbols there are marks of binding, a sorcery of a fashion, that hold a demon inside me."

She raised one eyebrow sardonically, biting back the caustic remark that came to the tip of her tongue immediately upon his admission. Had it not been for the events of the previous night, she would have scoffed at his words. Setting the soup bowl back upon the table, deliberately and carefully; she felt her hand move to the blade at her thigh.

Slowly, very slowly, she pushed the chair back, sliding out of it to move away from him. Her eyes never left his face. His posture mimiced hers, battle ready and tense.

"Answer this one question then Warrior and think well on your answer... for your very life depends on it." Her entire body reverberated with a force that was more than her own. Her eyes glittered dangerously in the low light of the rising sun.

"Is this demon within you by choice or against your own desires?" Danni did not realize she held her breath, waiting anxiously for his reply.

 

[Svenski]

So hard to see a fight coming and yet not raise his guard, not take the fight to her first. He knows he must bide, must keep that instinct down. Too long alone, it is difficult for him, but he mostly succeeds, just a tension in his legs that he cannot beat down.

He cannot help but admire the woman in front of him. He must be twice her weight and almost that in frame as well yet she manages to compose herself before him, bring an edge to her words that make clear her intent. Is this what it is to be born to rule? He supposes so. Yet he is not cowed by any danger she may present him, nor turned to raise his hand against her. If she comes at him, so be it, he decides. So be it.

Carefully, not from fear but from a wish to be understood clearly, he answers her question, "Any choice I might wish I had in the matter has long since been denied me." It has been years but it could almost be yesterday as the pain of memory hits him fresh, "The demon bitch I carry took from me everything I ever wanted and now lives within me to taunt me and hurt me 'til I find a way for us both to meet a death that has some meaning to it. Not something she chooses, something I choose." His control slips, his posture shifts and trembles in a fury that he has to clamp down on to contain. He remembers her dark tresses and dark eyes, her smile, and how they twisted before him. The memory meets reality and Danni's face superimposes itself, then the memory fades leaving only Danni's intense gaze.

He releases the table where his hands gripped it 'til his knuckles showed white and takes a breath and waits for whatever may come next.

 

[_kyrie_]

Her anger growing as his answer only confuses her further, she stomps her foot in frustration.

"You speak in riddles Warrior. I DO NOT like riddles." Steadily she watches the big hands gripping the edge of the worn table. The bowls atop it vibrate with the strength contained there.

His head jerks up, his eyes go dark with the swirling mist. Danni watches as he fights that which is within him. The pain etched across his handsome face is horrible to see. The fight is not one to the death, nor one for land or home; but one for Dominance. Dominance over one's own body.

His words of another female bring a sudden, unexplained pang to her heart. Shaking her head to rid her of these thoughts, she wonders why his words of another would wound her and puts the thought from her with steely determination.

As she opens her mouth to ask her question yet again, his eyes turn to black obsidian. His demeanor changes from that of an honorable Warrior to something else. Something dark and even more dangerous. He rises to his full height, moving slowly towards her across the room. She can not see it but she knows the green figures on his chest are moving and writhing in snake-like fashion beneath his shirt.

<You want to know if he loved me don't you girlie? Stupid girl. Look at him... is he capable of love? He fucked me and I him! Ha! I see you are shocked by my words. Be wary, your time is next. I shall enjoy watching him use you the way he used me before cursing me to this prison!>

Danni's blade appeared in her hand. The Warrior advanced on her, Danni raised the blade, making it clear she meant to use it. The woman's laugh issued from within his mouth again, daring her to take his life and hers.

Slicing across his chest, Danni ripped the baggy shirt from collar to hem, displaying the green, swirling tattoo beneath. The action seemed to anger the woman inside, her shrill laughter echoing through the cottage.

His strong hands grasped her upper arms, pushing her into the wall. Danni laid her blade flat against the green, swirling menace on his chest. The voice within screamed obscenities at her, fading into the tattoo. The blade burned a swathe of skin across his chest, scewing the tattoo as the skin sizzled beneath.

The room fell silent. His dark swirling eyes turned to cobalt blue mere inches from her face, his big bruising hands still wrapped tightly around her arms.

 

[Svenski]

<Time for payment, Marcus my love, payment for all that work you made me do in your petty nobility.> His demon gloats, <You should just have let her die. Look at the pain we cause her. Yes, you too. You like hurting her, admit it, you brutish fuck!> Marcus struggles, rejects the she-demon's words, but he has drawn on her power too recent and far, far too much. Time to pay the devil her due. <Either you take her or I will, and you know what fun I'll have with her.> Damned all ways, he knows if he can ground his infernal need then he'll be able to wrestle back control.

His hands pin her to the wall, her blade across his chest. The blessed steel hisses against the markings that swirl and glow over his heart, rippling fire dancing around their edge trying to contain the release of power.

He growls menacingly, "Fight me or fuck me. That's your choice, but trust me when I say that you cannot win the fight. But you choose anyway. Fight. Or fuck. 'Cause if I don't find a way to ground this demon bitch's energy real soon then she's going to choose for both of us." He is all intensity, a storm waiting to break, and holding back this release pains him. The choice pains him, it is writ plain in his eyes alongside his gnawing, violent need.

The need is his drug and he is in violent, sudden withdrawal. In sex or in violence he can find his release, a way to feed and appease the monster within. Sated, she always quietens, always releases control and goes back to her whispering. It's the fight in the cellar, his injuries, all things the bring her to the fore that let her get a foothold in his body and make his flesh do as she wishes. The she-demon is a lightning he must ground or watch himself and those around him burned by the backlash.

She does not answer him immediately and how can she when presented with such an insane choice. He forces the issue, his sense of time dilated such that a heartbeat takes a minute and a breath an entire hour, not realising that with another breath she might answer him. Towering over her, holding her arms to the wall, he forces his lips to hers, pressing his body closer. The knife she holds hisses loudly, raising a welt across his chest where it touches him, but he pays it no heed, crushing his lips against her petite mouth.

 

[_kyrie_]

Tearing her mouth from beneath his, she hisses at him, turning the knifepoint towards his chest with a flick of her wrist. His arms do not release their hold, only pushing her harder into the stone of the hearth. His strength is incomprehensible, the weight of his body holding her nearly frozen while she struggles beneath him.

His lips find her neck, her hand pushes the tip of the blade closer, sinking only through the hairy covering upon his massive chest.

“Don’t…. don’t… make me… hurt you… .please?”

She hesitates when she knows she should thrust it into him, burying it into the thing that drives him to madness. She looks up when he lifts his head away from her neck, looking down at her from his height. She sees the pleading within him, he wants her to do it. His eyes beg her to thrust the knife into his heart. Her hand tightens on the handle before releasing it to bounce on the wooden floor, out of reach.

 

[Svenski]

<Aww, and here I thought she might put up a fight.> Scathing, derisive, the demon urges Marcus on. <Strike her, my love, hard. She hurt you and she needs to be taught a lesson. Hurt her back, show her what it feels like.>

Marcus does what he can to ignore the demon's goading but his solution is to press forward, make his own choices acting on almost pure animal instinct. His own base nature lets him see a nubile woman dressed only loosely, but a simple piece of material between him and her soft, pliant flesh. He smells the scent of her skin, his mouth on her neck, teeth grazing flesh.

With the knife out of the way, his hands release her arms only to hunt for her wrists, pressing his body against her to hold her to the wall. He feels the curve of her breasts through the linen of the shepherd's shirt pressing into his chest, hears the the thumping of her heart through that same contact.

 

[_kyrie_]

Danni groaned against his crushing lips. She pulled hard on her arms, feeling the power of his hands on her small wrists. His fingers pressed against the bruises he placed there earlier, the pads fitting perfectly back into place.

Thinking to use her feet against him, she kicked against his solid shins, only to hear him chuckle at her struggles. His chuckle angered her more than his ardent attentions, reminding her of her petite size and lack of brute muscle. Her efforts doubled, her face flushes with exertion and anger, the nearly invisible freckles rising to the surface of her small nose.

His chest presses into her small breasts, raising the tiny peaks to hardened buds beneath the thin, white shirt. Her chest heaving, she moans loudly, using all of her strength to pull and twist within his arms. His mouth claims hers again, his hips pressing into hers, rotating against her.

Danni feels his heat. The huge bulge pressing hard into her belly. Her own body reacts treacherously; heating in kind. Her mind rails at her, screaming its own obscenities into her ear, trying to force her body out of the heated haze the Warrior has created around her.

Her fingers curl into tight balls, her head falls back, eyes closed. Without conscious thought, her body relinquishes to this giant man. While her muscles stay tight and tense, fighting against his strength; her core prepares for him. Wanting him, answering to the call of his animal instinct in kind.

Danni opens her mouth to scream ‘no’ but finds his tongue thrust into its warmth. Unthinkingly, she sucks it within her own … then bites down in frustration as her body gives her deepest secrets to this stranger.

 

[Svenski]

He snaps his tongue back quickly, her teeth grazing the tip. He snarls, stung, "Bite at me will you?" He wrestles her wrists above her head using his overbearing strength and there he pins them against the wall with one powerful hand. The other he pushes up under the loose shirt, sliding up her belly to find the curve of her breast. "You hurt me," he growls, "I hurt you." So saying, his fingers grip her nipple and twist it painfully, just for a second. His eyes stay on her face, he watches her yelp in pain before he releases his grip on her hard nub.

"Bite at me again and you'll hurt worse than that," he tells her, eyes narrowed dangerously. Then he crushes his mouth to her lips and forces his tongue into the hot, airy wetness inside, tangling his tongue onto hers. His hand moulds over her breast, squeezing and pressing and pulling, her pained nipple in his palm.

His hips shift, twisting so that he can place a leg between each of hers, and he presses his knee forward to part her thighs, still keeping her pinned to the wall. His manhood rages against the fabric of his trousers, demanding release from their constraint.

<That's it, my love! Feel her nipples, how they stiffen at your touch. She wants you to hurt her, she enjoys it! Now just think how you'll feel with her wet cunt wrapped round your thick, glorious cock... ooohh... I can't wait!>

 

[_kyrie_]

"You hurt me," he growls, "I hurt you."

She gasped loudly as the pain shot through her small nipple, sending shivers of sensation down, curling into her lower belly where it lay, smoldering.

Both hands locked within his, she felt stretched, her back arched as he pressed her into the stones. The roar of his labored breathing in her ear set her heart thundering in her chest. His words resonnated with something deep within her, something she had been hiding for what seemed like all eternity.

This then is why she was chosen. Not because she is Princess of Sessalie, not because she is good and kind, not because she is the daughter of a King but because she is the light to his dark. And his darkness called to her, forced her to leave the trappings of society and stricture behind. Her body screamed its demands at her, never having come so close to finding its release in this way before.

Danni felt his hips shoving into hers against the very thin fabric of the shepherds pants, her shirt hung open, draping wontonly to her sides. She should feel humiliation, fear, anger. The anger was there certainly, but beneath the anger raged a heat she had never understood. A heat she had never dared look at closely, least she get burned.

 

[Svenski]

His thigh pushes into her crotch, pressing the fabric of her pants into the dampness it finds there. He grinds his thigh against her, his shaft gyrating against her hip in a motion that enflames him further.

He can stand it no longer. He pulls her away from the wall, releasing her wrists only to push her bodily to the floor. She twists as she goes down, stumbling on the length of a trouser leg as it unravels through his manhandling of her. He follows her down, pinning her on her side but letting her arms free to fight and flail as much as she feels need. He ignores her resistance, forcing his way past her defences. As she squirms on the floor he hooks a hand into the waist band of her borrowed trousers, yanking them down her thighs 'til they tangle on her knees.

Marcus pushes her shoulder into the floor, keeping her pinned on her back, and he kneels into the material tangled between her legs, frustrating her movements. Deep voice laden with lust, he demands, "Are you a virgin, girl?" One large hand he slips between her thighs, feeling the flex of her athletic, trained legs, then slides upwards to the damp flesh at the apex of her legs to slide between her wet nether lips. "Don't you dare lie to me," he warns.

His face dips to her breast but he keeps his eyes angled towards her face. His lips close around her nipple, the one he twisted so painfully, to suckle, teeth grazing on its reddened nub as his tongue plays over the tip.

 

[_kyrie_]

Her breath whooshed from her as her shoulder hit the floor, his big weight following behind. Hands free she started clawing at the floor, trying to inch towards the blade she so foolishly dropped a moment ago.

His large hand grabbed her shoulder, pushing it back onto the floor. The other reached down to drag the over-sized pants from her slender hips. Danni’s anger erupted. How dare this man whom she had cared for treat her this way? Her anger spurred her resolve and she fought harder.

Both legs came up kicking while her hands clawed and scratched at his face and shoulders. Her back arched as she tried to buck his weight from her unsuccessfully. Danni’s small chest heaved with the effort. Growing more and more angry, she fought the tears. She had not cried in anger since she was twelve years old and she would not do it now.

The warrior’s lust laden words slapped her back to the reality of now.

“Are you a virgin girl?... Don’t you dare lie to me.” He warned, sucking her sore nipple into his mouth, his sharp teeth grazing over the sensitized skin.

Danni trembled violently beneath him, slightly weakening in her effort to fight him. His teeth suckled harder on the nipple, while his big fingers slipped into the soft folds hidden between her legs.

The thought flashed through her mind to tell him the truth, thinking to dissuade him from this course he was on. This warrior trapped by the she-demon might find reason to pause if he knew.

His fingers pushed deeper, his teeth clamped tighter as she hesitated.

She screamed her answer to him as hot rivers of molten lava suddenly boiled through her veins. She would not tell him, she would not lower herself to appear the frightened maiden. Her dignity intact, her heart swelling to nearly bursting with fear as his teeth threatened to pierce her hard nipple, she screamed her answers.

“No… a virgin I am not…. You loathsome beast. I am… “ Danni gulped lungs full of air as his fingers probed even deeper. “I am… 22… years old. What… does that… matter to you… now? Ahhhh… “ Her scream transformed as his fingers move within her.

One small hand jerked down to twist and turn in his hair, struggling to pull it from her swollen nub. Her hips moved lurched sideways beneath Marcus’ hand, trapped by the shepherd’s pants. At once trying to his escape pressing, probing fingers within her wetness then; fighting the hunger of her body wanting to return, seeking the tantalizing sensations spiraling there.

The more the enormous warrior pushed and pulled at her body, the angrier she become; the more her body responded to him on its own. The moisture between her legs thickened, her nipples stood proud and hard beneath his teeth.

She used both hands to pull his head free of her breast, determined he see the fury in her glistening eyes. The pain of his teeth wrenching free sent her whorling into a dark abyss she feared she would never be free of.

“Look at me! Look at me!” Her voice bordering on hysteria as she struggled to gain the attention of his mind.

“If… if you do this.. thing… “ her back arched at his touch. “If you do this thing.. then do it as the… as the man… and… not..” Danni’s urgent voice became nearly inaudible to his ears as she pitched into the heat he was building within her… “not.. not as that… she-demon but.. as you… as the man… you…”

 

[Svenski]

<I love it when they struggle, don't you my dear Marcus? Just ignore what she says, it's not important. She's just a bitch in heat and she needs your seed in her belly. Feel her writhe beneath you. Feel how wet she is for your cock.> The voice shivers in delight, "Oooohh, let me feel your cock inside her, my love. Fuck her like the animal she is, just meat, just delicious, tender meat.>

Somehow, through the litany of his monster's insane, lust, he hears Danni's plea. He feels a sudden, almost irresistable urge to disregard her cries, flip her onto her front and force himself between her legs from behind, to mount her like a dog screws a bitch. But her voice reveals her wanton need as much as her pleaded request and so he holds her gaze for a moment. His expression animalistic, his lustful desire writ plain, but the man fights the way to the fore.

His voice still growls but his tone is just a shade softer than before, less angry, less hurtful, but no less demanding, "If you want me to fuck you as a man then..." his fingers curl up inside her wetness, pulling from the inside outwards in a smooth motion, "Then you must fuck me as a woman, not some frightened girl." His fingers slide out of her slick sex over her clit, drenched in her juices.

He shifts his weight, moving his foot to kick and drag the shepherd's pants down her legs and off her ankles, allowing her legs to part, to move. Despite his urge to take her as an animal he leaves her face up. "Open yourself to me," he demands, kneeling back between her thighs, first one knee, then both, forcing her legs apart. One hand takes her hip, holding her tightly, pressing her to the floor, letting her arms do as they will. His other works quickly at his trousers, opening their fastenings, pushing them down. His thick, engorged sex fights free of the constraint of his pants; no longer than most but wider in girth, a tight fit for all but the most used whores.

He finds her face, holds her eyes, and leans forward over her, his hands sliding up her sides, still holding her to the floor. One finds her other breast, the one not pained by his treatment, the other presses into her upper arm. The tip of his shaft lightly slaps onto her wet mound as he straightens out between her legs, poised, prepared. His length slides along between her lips, her juices lubricating the underside of his sex while gliding over her clit. Only inches from her face, he locks his intense gaze on hers, squeezes her breast in his hand, and orders her, "Give yourself to me."

 

[_kyrie_]

"Give yourself to me."

His gaze locked intensely on hers, his hand squeezing and kneading her breast in his hand.

Images of her Stallion mounting his mares in the pasture passed through her mind. Dogs humping in the courtyard, birds on a branch, livestock in the pen.

Lustful rage crashed over her small body, one hand reared back, slapping him full in the face.

”I want to give myself to you. God help me I want it as badly as you do.”

Danni’s nostrils flared when his big hand grabbed her face, pressing her chin towards her chest. Her body was open beneath him, ready. His massive legs easily held her smaller ones apart, the moisture thickening beneath his heavy cock where it lay spearheaded, ready.

The heat of what he was and what he had inside him pushed her past herself into a darker realm. A realm of heat and passion, pain and pleasure and she wanted all of it, damn it. She wanted him to give her all of it.

Her anger rose, she fought him again, more fiercely than ever. She saw the brief, startled look on his face. Saw him rear up, lifting his hips above hers, hovering just at the entrance to her core. He was waiting, waiting for her.

She was afraid, she would not admit it. Not to him, not to herself, but she was afraid. He hovered there above her, sinewy muscles standing out with the strain of his weight as he held his body menacingly above her.

Danni could stand it no longer, she arched her back, lifting her hips to his, her legs open wide in an instinctual invitation. Her nether lips glistened beneath him, visible to his eyes. Her swollen sex bathed in her juices. Her tight belly arched towards her spine, her strong muscles defined in the early morning sun.

It was at this moment she chose to shout the words that terrified her the most, the words she feared may spur him to more violence or worse, command him to stop.

“I don’t know how you bastard… I … don’t know how to… give myself to you.”

The words were torn from her throat, ending on a hysterical note. Danni turned her head in shame, a frozen moment of calm within the sea of violence and sex surrounding them.

She wanted him, by God she wanted him, but she was not going to beg, never would she beg.