by Nicole René
He took a step toward her. “You were thirteen when you came into womanhood and were terrified. I sent Lisswix to you, and she gave you clothes to wear and explained everything. Your favorite food is chicken, and you hate potatoes but eat them anyways.”
He continued to step toward her with each evocative fact he revealed, and Namoriee was rooted to the spot, powerless but to listen.
“You love the sound of water. You like green fabrics, and your first kiss was with me because I made sure that no one would take it.” Her chest was heaving when he finally stepped in front of her. He caged her in with his arms on either side of her as his palms slapped against the door.
“I threatened to slice Huntyr’s throat when he was sixteen when he started to take an interest in you. I know that you don’t believe in love because you were abandoned as a child.” He said the last part gently, and she couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down her cheek.
“You’re right,” he whispered, tracing the column of her throat. “I stalked you, followed your every move. I manipulated your future so that it could only end with us being together. Maybe you deserved to make your own choices, but quite frankly, I think even if you could you would still choose me.”
“I deserved the chance,” she bit out quietly. He was making her feel guilty, and it wasn’t fair. He sewed together beautiful words that were as scary as they were sweet.
“Maybe,” he agreed, then his eyes changed, reflecting something dark, almost sinister. “Would you prefer I be like Xavier?” he asked, tone deceitfully light.
“Would you rather I hurt you? Make you bend to my will forcefully?”
His hand had started to creep up her neck as he talked until he was cupping her throat. He squeezed it with the barest of pressure. His hold was possessive, with the veiled threat that he could easily snap her neck with minimal effort if he wanted.
Bending his head, he murmured in her ear, “I can be him, if you want. I’ll hurt you. I’ll train you the way he did her, make you crave my pain almost as much as you’ll crave my cock.”
He firmed his grip and pressed into her until she felt the bulge in his breeches as he grated against her. “I’ll be your husband and master, and you’ll become my favorite of toys.”
She started to fight him then.
“Isn’t that what you want, my sweet?” he shouted, squeezing her throat more. He moved away from her with a curse, hand moving to his ear that she had bit.
He caught her wrists in his hand when she went to slap him, hauling her against him roughly.
“You can bite me and hit me Namoriee—do whatever you need to do to convince yourself that you need to hate me, but I am never going to give up, and I’m never going to stop.” Namoriee shook her head, a blubbering mess as he walked them backwards with each word. “Not until you feel even the slightest bit of what I feel for you—and even then, it won’t nearly be enough.”
The back of her knees hit the empty bed at the exact moment he slammed his lips on top of hers. She whimpered at the contact. Their teeth clinked together, and he gripped her hair tight enough for her scalp to burn. His kiss was demanding. Rough. Possessive. As if he was sealing his ownership on her lips. He yanked her head back; the angle making her neck strain and enable him to dominate the kiss even further. He nipped her lips, the sting making her gasp and his tongue slid against hers in harsh movements, expressing his anger at her with each slide. His fingers loosened a fraction, and she found herself suddenly spun around and bent at the waist. His grip was tight enough to bruise as he pushed her down until her face was flush with the blankets. She turned her head so that she could breath.
“You drive me insane, Namoriee,” Tyronian rasped, “You keep pushing me, tempting me to teach you a lesson.” Namoriee moaned low in her throat when she felt her dress flip, exposing her bottom.
“I think it’s about time you learn what happens to naughty little girls.”
The first slap made her cry out in surprise. The second was more forceful and made her jolt. The third stung, and Namoriee couldn’t help but reach back, but he caught her hands, and held them against her back before she could attempt to cover her backside.
Smack!
Smack!
The smacks varied in strength as his palm rained down on her until her ass was stinging and she was sure it was red. She cried out when he delivered another, harder than the rest. His hand smoothed over the cheeks, prolonging the sting before sliding lower.
“You’re dripping,” Tyronian rasped in delight when he pushed a finger inside of her. Her breath escaped her in a breathy sigh, pleasure whipping through her nerve endings as he pumped his fingers in and out. Her body coiled, her climax just within reach when he stopped, effectively trapping her it inside her.
“I didn’t give you permission for that yet,” Tyronian growled in answer to her petulant cry. Namoriee whimpered when she heard his belt clinking and fabric pooling on the floor.
There was no preamble. No warning. Just the sure thrust of his hips and the stretch of her inner walls as he filled her.
“Ah!”
“Your cunt is so damn tight,” Tyronian groaned in ecstasy. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock. I’m gonna take you hard, and fast, Namoriee. Up until this point I’ve been gentle with you, but that ends tonight. I should be sorry, but I’m not.”
His chest met her back as he nipped her ear, then the juncture of her neck. “Get ready for the ride of your life.” He pulled back, fingers digging into her hips and scalp, and surged inside of her again, filling her to the brim. Namoriee cried out, her body stiff from the zing of pain/pleasure.
“That’s it, scream for me. Let everyone know who you belong to,” he groaned as he drove powerfully into her. He was impossibly deep, and she could feel herself stretch around him to try and accommodate the entirety of his girth.
“Tyronian!” Namoriee whimpered weakly as she bucked beneath him.
He set a crazy pace, the sound of his thighs slapping against her flesh echoed around them in rapid succession. Her moans were partly drowned out by the fabric of their bed, his grip on her hair keeping her at his mercy.
He was right. If she thought he was ever rough with her before, it was nothing compared to this. His thrusts were strong, fast, and sure. The force of them pushed her cheek deeper and deeper into the mattress, and for her cunt to flare with both pleasure, and soreness at the treatment it was so unused to.
He kept her powerless as the myriad of sensations overwhelmed her.
“I love the feel of your cunt squeezing around me. It clings to my cock as if begging it not to leave.” His voice was thick with lust, and the filthy words ignited her insides.
Namoriee’s moan was broken as her first orgasm rippled through her. Tyronian didn’t slow. His grip changed in her locks, and Namoriee gasped when he pulled, forcing her to arch her back, neck straining.
“Gods,” she yelped. “Please!”
“The Gods won’t save you from me, sweet girl,” he chuckled darkly. “You’re mine.”
The second orgasm made her breathless. The third had her body slumping. By the fourth she was so over sensitized that she begged him to have mercy on her.
“I can’t, Tyronian. I can’t!” Namoriee whimpered against the familiar swirl of fiery pleasure illuminating from deep within. She couldn’t take another orgasm. Not like this.
“You will for me,” he growled. “I’m not giving you a choice. Everything about you is mine, Namoriee. You’re my property, which means I can use you however I see fit, regardless of how sore your sweet cunt gets. Because that’s mine, too. I own it. And I can do whatever I please with it.”
Namoriee closed her eyes. She was sore, yet with each stroke of his shaft, she was lashed with pleasure that seemed to coexist with the pain. She felt his weight against her back, and he snaked an arm underneath her, holding her close. He whispered praises in her ear, even as he continued to pound into her with brutal intensity. He whispered how good she f
elt around him, how tight and warm she felt. How he wished he could stay buried inside of her forever. She was helpless against him. And when he demanded her to tell him how much she wanted him, to admit that she was his…that she belonged to him, she could do nothing but agree.
Because right now, at this moment, she was so strung out with ecstasy that she couldn’t hide the truth.
“I’m yours,” she whispered throatily. She shuddered when his paced changed, opting to plunge inside of her with long, slow strokes instead of the thunderous pounds he was delivering before. He took his time pulling in and out of her body, his lips raining wet, openmouthed kisses down her neck and back; contradictory to the tempo of his hips. He was rewarding her for her confession.
It didn’t take her long to start to climax this way.
“Please,” Namoriee gasped, feeling the swirl of pleasure growing. Her body coiled like a bow string, and her spine tingled. “Please, I want…I need…” She cut off, her body shaking with her effort to hold off. The fact that she was waiting for his permission irritated her beyond belief, but she didn’t want to risk losing this.
“Let go, Namoriee. Soak me with your release. I want to feel you.”
His permission was all she needed. Her orgasm swept through her like a tornado, whipping through her from the inside out. She screamed at the overwhelming sensation.
“Tyronian!”
The force of it caused tears to stream down her face, and for her body to convulse violently. She slumped, but Tyronian carried her weight and kept her body in position as he chased his own release. Finally, after what seemed like ages, she felt him stiffen, and his cock surge inside of her. He pumped into her a few more times, before he stilled, burying his face into her neck to muffle his moan on her skin as he flooded her with his come until she felt it escaping and dripping down her thighs.
Tyronian collapsed on top of Namoriee. He held her tightly as her body quaked with the aftershocks of what he put it through. Their breaths were ragged and filled the room. He pulled back, resting his forehead on her back and catching his breath. Gods, she felt so good. He wanted to take her again, but he knew he should let her body regroup.
She whimpered in protest when he slid out of her, which just made him want to slide back inside her heat. He felt an insane amount of satisfaction when he caught sight of his release mixing with hers as it slid out of her.
She flinched when he touched her gently, spreading her so that he can see better. He didn’t tell her this, but he was glad at the amount he saw. He wanted her swollen with his child. He wanted to further bind her to him.
He only hoped it was enough.
Namoriee stared at the large tent in no small amount of apprehension. When she received word that her Chief wanted to see her, she immediately thought the worst. Does she blame her for Leawyn’s illness? It was her duty to take care of her after all. Will he send her away? She loved working for Leawyn, she was her only friend, and she treated her with kindness. She would be devastated. Deciding that she couldn’t prolong whatever fate that will meet her any longer, she gathered her courage and with a shaking hand flipped open the flap of the tent and went inside.
She was not expecting what was waiting for her.
Tyronian watched from the sidelines as Namoriee pushed through the tent and immediately froze. He instinct was to wrap her in his arms and ensure her that everything was okay, but he could not do that. Not yet, at least.
“Namoriee, do you know why you’re here?” Xavier’s deep voice broke through the tense silence, and Tyronian saw Namoriee jump at the suddenness of it.
“N-n-no, c-c-hief,” she stuttered, and he saw that her fists were clenched tightly. She had only just started to speak out last winter. It must be killing her to have to speak in front of all these men, but he knew she valued tradition as much as she valued the Gods and Goddesses; she would not disrespect her chief.
“A challenge has been made to the Sicares,” Xavier told her, watching her thoughtfully. “Do you know anything about that?”
Namoriee paled significantly, and she started to openly tremble. “N-no s-sir.”
“Is it true that you were attacked by a Sicares warrior?” Xavier asked pointblank, expression still impassive.
“P-please,” Namoriee stammered, starting to hyperventilate. “I don’t want any t-t-trouble.”
“I don’t care what you want,” Xavier told her. “Were you, or were you not attacked by a Sicares warrior?”
Namoriee felt close to throwing up. Her heart was pounding, she could hear her heavy breaths as if she was listening through a tube. She could feel the eyes on her, all the men standing in the circle, surrounding her. They were looking at her, the Sicares, their contempt was like a physical touch on her skin. She couldn’t answer Xavier. She didn’t want to.
“It doesn’t m-matter. I j-j-just want to—”
“I asked you a question, Namoriee,” Xavier growled. She could tell that he was starting to lose his patience with her.
“Y-yes,” she answered meekly, almost in a whisper. “It’s true.”
“Why does your speech halt that way?” Yoro asked, examining her considerately. He didn’t give her a chance to answer, as he directed his next question to her chief, as if she wasn’t there. “Is her head unwell?”
Namoriee felt her entire body flush, shame and embarrassment making her cheeks hot. In that moment, the Gods could have struck the ground with lighting, and she would have welcomed the collapse.
“How she speaks is of no concern to you,” Xavier bit out. He turned his attention back to her. “Is the man who attacked you in this room?”
She started to cry in earnest, knowing what he will ask her next, once she nodded with a whispered ‘yes’.
“How can we trust anything she says” Kisias interrupted Xavier, glaring at her. “She’s nothing more than a slave!”
Xavier’s eyes cut to Kisias, his face taunt. “Careful,” Xavier warned him. “Not only is she a member of my tribe, she is my wife’s handmaiden, and someone she cares for, which means she is under my protection and you will respect her.” Xavier said, shocking Namoriee.
“It is dangerously starting to sound that you’re accusing a member of my tribe of lying, which is an insult to me and one that I will take very, very, personally.”
The tension in the room thickened at Xavier’s words, as the Izayges warriors stood taller, their loyalty to their chief clear. Kisias scoffed but seemed to realize that he was treading dangerous water, as he said nothing more but to apologize.
Xavier didn’t bother acknowledging his apology, and instead turned his attention back to her and ordered her to do the very last thing she wanted to do.
“Point him out.”
“Pl-lease don’t m-make me,” she beseeched, her entire face slick with her tears as she cried in fear. “I-I don’t want any trouble. P—”
“You dare defy your chief?” Xavier bit out savagely.
“N-no!” Namoriee cried in alarm. “I-I would never—”
“Then do as your told!” Xavier roared, finally losing his patience. “Point him out, now, or be punished for your disrespect and disobedience!”
Namoriee flinched, covering her mouth to try and stifle her sobs. She didn’t want to do this, but she knew Xavier meant what he said, he would punish her for disrespecting him, for all to see as it was the gravest offense one could make. With a shaking finger, she pointed at the man who had been the star of her nightmares, and the one who had staring at her with murder in his eyes the entire time.
“This is ridiculous,” Cantos spat in disgust, turning to face the assembled chiefs head-on. “She is unclaimed, so I have done no offense to our laws other than waste time on a whore is isn’t nearly attractive enough to be worth the trouble she caused me.”
“It is true,” Yoro, who has been quiet thus far, said. “If she is unclaimed, no laws were broken.”
“But she is claimed,” Xavier told them all with a hint of smugness.<
br />
“By who?”
“Your challenger,” Xavier said, pointing over his shoulder to where Tyronian stepped out from the crowd and up to Cantos.
“I’m going to enjoy relieving your neck the burden of carrying your head,” Tyronian told Cantos menacingly.
“That won’t happen,” Cantos snarled back at him, going chest to chest with the bigger male. “Because I’m going to kill you before your stroke could fall.”
Tyronian’s lips pulled back slowly, it was a grin of a predatory that was as dark as it was mocking.
“You can try.”
Namoriee flew out of the hut like the ancient beast were behind her the moment Xavier dismissed her. She stumbled, crying, but kept going.
“Namoriee!” The voice she never wanted to hear again called out from behind her. “Namoriee, stop!”
She didn’t.
“Namoriee, don’t you dare walk away from me!” She heard his steps hurry, and then a shadow was upon her.
“Namoriee, I said stop!”
He gripped her wrist, stilling her before he yanked her around to face him. She used that momentum to send her palm flying.
Smack!
“Don’t touch me,” she screamed, tugging herself out of his shocked grip and stumbled back. A red handprint was already forming on his cheek when he turned his head back around to face her.
“You will never touch me again!”
“Namoriee…” he started to say, reaching out as if to touch her.
“No!” she pushed him away from her and making him stumble back half a step from his surprise.
“Do you have any idea how mortifying that was for me?” she demanded, almost hysterical.
“Namoriee, I just—” he tried to soothe, reaching for her again.
“Don’t,” she screamed at him, slapping his hands away. She sucked in a hiccupped breath, looking up at him behind blurry eyes from her tears and betrayal.