by Isoellen
Uniting with him had cured her. Or perhaps it distracted her enough that nothing else mattered but achieving the pleasure-pain moment of extreme erotic intimacy. New definitions for intimacy, loving, pleasure reshaped her self-image, her ideas of relationship. He showed her how her body worked and the exchange possible between two people.
Laying on top of him, she opened her legs, moved herself back and forth against his cock, stimulating her clitoris. His hands gripped her bottom, keeping her close, choosing the rhythm. Annabell gave herself up to him and the fire between them. Sensing the instant she gave up trying to make him do what she wanted, he took over. One shift of his hips and he shoved home. Born to be an Orki war bride, Annabell surrendered to the service of his oversized cock. She couldn't imagine what the science of love-making looked like. But it worked. This worked. And it was the best thing to ever happen to Annabell Roe, the Woman of Woe. It felt like luck, joy, and blessing—never having to be alone again.
Their bodies moved in a sinuous dance, in the ache and appeasement of connection. With a slow wonder of loving hands and mouth, Doku-ni making sure Annabell knew he saw every part of her. He cupped her breasts, thumbed her nipples until they throbbed to the beat of his heart. From fierce to gentle and back again, he squeezed and caressed her bottom—fingers touching every part of her—nothing off-limits. Teaching the steps of the dance, he taught her to follow his lead.
Patience evaded any attempt Annable made to hold on to it. She wanted, was a creature of want. But he made her wait before taking her back to that moment where he swelled and locked them together. Desperately craving the mix of agony and glory he could give her, she begged for it.
He didn't disappoint. Slippery with the perspiration of her broken fever, they moved together seamlessly. A shift of his hips, and he angled them so that his shaft hit the hidden button inside of her. Annabell writhed. The first gate to bliss, she shimmered bright, burning with their intimacy and connection.
With that metal plate missing from his neck, he could speak. The sounds he created were more distinct. That deep rumbling growl of his set off vibrations and sensitized every nerve. It made her come every time he did it. And he talked to her while he moved her body on top of him. Told her what he wanted. "Open for Doku-ni. Spread legs wider. Sit up. Move hips. Mine. Anna is mine. I see you. I see you."
She obeyed every command and found herself sitting on top of him while his hands lifted her up and down on his cock—a pole between her legs. The position touched different places, hurt and felt good in different ways. White Eyes watched her every move, her expressions. He took and gave pleasure, taking her to her peak and holding her there, one intense moment into another. It was them together, him filling her up, sharing his essence, stretching her, and her taking everything he had.
Her cries became throaty grunts. She was an animal, a primal thing of want. Thickening inside of her, she knew another moment approached when her body would open and let the red tip of him into her darkest secrets.
"Take my seed, Annabell. Take me."
"Yes, please. Yes, please," she spoke mindlessly. Saying things over and over, all her boundaries broken. Anything to declare her feelings, to express her need to tie their souls together with thread in tight little stitches. Sew their hearts close, bind them, making separation impossible. A lifetime lived alone, unseen, not understood scarred wounds into her personality that this male healed with every caress. Doku-ni was her adventure and dreams come true.
Pain grew with pleasure—then they were there. Her body clamped down to hold him, his organ swelled to fill her, locking in two places. Squeezing hidden muscles around his shaft, she felt the moment he burst, his pleasure at its peak, spilling into her womb.
"Give me a baby. Give me a family!"
"Mine Anna," he said, wrapping himself around her. Keeping himself planted deep, he rolled to the side, legs bent, wrapped up in his arms and passion. Curling around her, he leaned in close, his mouth opening on her neck. She trembled as his tusks brushed against her skin. Drawing hot paths along the muscle of her shoulder with his tongue, the spikes of his teeth tested her flesh. The idea of him sinking his teeth into her neck, biting and marking her had her panting. More of that hurts-so-good pain only he could give her. Tipping her head to the side, she gave him access. "Please, yes, mark me. Bite me."
Every time he spoke, his voice became smoother, his grasp of her language better than her grasp of his. "Annabell is redress. Annabell is the only one. My one. I take Annabell forever."
"Yes, and I take you forever."
His mouth opened over her shoulder, his teeth against her skin. "Yes."
Teeth pierced her skin, heat suffused her, and her body seized with heaven. Lightning flashed behind her eyes and thunder crashed in her heart. Magic happened as her wishes came true and her being was bonded to his.
They made love again and again. Her feverish need lessened along with other symptoms of sickness. Thankfully when she woke on the backward schedule, blinking her eyes open to light instead of darkness, he didn't hurry her through the morning routine and take her from the comfortable nest they had made together. Wrapped up in the shelter of his body, she sighed in quiet wonder at how good she felt. Whole. Healthy. Alive.
His favorite position seemed to be curled around her, his legs drawn up and his face buried in her hair. The position gave her all kinds of feelings. Clutched to his heart, secured in his arms, she felt safe and protected. Another unique experience with him.
Annabell soaked up the moment. She didn't move a muscle. If dreams came true, she would get to stay like this all day. He was her world, and this was her heaven.
Weeks ago, Annabell woke day after day to the monotony of being alone. Her curse ruled her life. But the debt of the red moon morning hid behind long days of get-it-done survival, until the day came when she found herself taking her brother to his grave. The person who had cleaned up his death moved through the aggrieved haze of that day without a heartbeat. And Annabell was no longer that person.
The price of isolation marked her with a life-long damnation she never thought to question or escape. The world around her stared and pointed at her mark, an ugly stain on her face, feeling the need to remind her of it every moment of the day. None of them offered a different way.
Fitting together like puzzle pieces, the contrasts of her life were glaringly different. Her childhood with her father and her family glowed with fairy tale perfection. The baby of the family, the only girl, her parents indulged her with their attention. Papa's spoiling put Mama in the position of disciplinarian, not that she minded too much.
It was Mama who made sure Annabell washed her hands when she came in after following her papa around outside. Mama checked to see if Annabell cleaned her room, did her chores, and schooled her on rules of politeness.
Because Papa had the role of best friend, they were inseparable.
His death broke Annabell's perfect world, fractured it right down the middle, plopping her hard into a new reality, life changed forever. Afterwards, Mama cried herself to sleep every night. And her brothers broke into fights, arguing with each other almost daily.
Mama sat in her chair, growing thinner and thinner every day. The light and the laughter left, replaced with worries and harried superstitions. "We need to go wash. We need to wash that off you, a little water does redeem."
Their mother and father dead, her older brothers became her parents and town leaders. Responsibilities and expectations landed with every shovel full of dirt on her parent's graves. Responsibilities her own papa never wanted or asked for. Papa had no time for governing a town, refusing the responsibility his neighbors wanted to shove on him. His forefathers escaped the steel cities to escape the corruption of power.
His sons didn't share the view.
Cuddled in her Doku-ni's arms, she remembered things, saw things, the grief and disappointments in her life distorted. Her indulgent, thoughtful mother became a critical disciplinarian because of th
e weight of guilt Annabell carried for her death. A lie her mind created, that she wore like a truth.
She failed to be good enough to keep her mother alive. It was silly. Like blaming herself for Papa's death, it made no sense. Yet, she believed it and lived it. Since she failed at making Mama want to stay with her, she, therefore, deserved the bitter side of Mama's tongue, which in life had never been so cruel to any of her children.
Woe followed her all her days. And woe was a dress, a thing she woke up and put on every day, to wear with pride, to show off to the town, a tool of self-punishment.
Did she still need to be punished?
Vision clear, body sore in a good way, all her impulses dimmed to a manageable low fire. She was whole. The only emotion that troubled her: joy. Pure sunshine and flowers, everything-is-wonderful joy.
There was no room for woe.
The vague impressions of the foggy last days parted like window curtains, and she saw her environment as clear as she saw the male who claimed her. Brown wall at her back, in a corner, away from others. The design of this space gave the Orki room to spread out. Recognizing wood walls, the natural shape of them mystified Annabell. Not a cabin, shack, lodge, or house. From her position she couldn't see anyone else, although she could hear the shuffling and muttering of other life. The war beasts, talking to each other, murmuring. One day she hoped to understand their running commentary. In contrast, the Orki didn't talk to each other during the day when the sun was high. They kept to themselves. Some were resting since this was their night. She heard the higher tones of other human women. Not looking around to see, Annabell knew she was not the only one who had found pleasure with her Orki lover.
Chapter 13
We Need To Talk
Staring at the walls, the floor, the various shadows of brown and the way the light came into the structure, she decided they were not in another cave or surrounded by rock. But the walls weren't man-made either. The wood had a natural feel but no seams or nails. What she saw with her eyes made no sense to her brain.
Her memories of coming here floated through her mind in blurred moments. She'd been at the edge of sanity the night the Orki arrived in Righteous Way. She remembered crying, mourning her losses, struggling with her grief and carrying the weight of her curse. And then the crazy sickness that made her body hurt and crave.
Had she really done those things with him?
Annabell hugged the arm wrapped around her, a smile spreading so far across her face that her cheeks cracked. Her dream-come-true fantasy, the white Orki, Doku-ni, held her wrapped up in his arms after days of seduction and passion. Her body felt him still, sticky between her legs, sore in her thighs, back, and breasts. Bubbling up from her middle, she giggled, amazed at herself. She did those things and looked forward to doing more. Delicate and fragile, optimism and hope floated through her head, little butterflies searching for flowers. Her guilt and self-disgust, her failures, disintegrated under the brush of their wings.
Having lived without hope, having it now tickled her senses.
Annabell had let pieces of her own life escape and disappear. Without hope, she let go of dreams and just existed. When Benjere sent Doku-ni away, she surrendered a big part of her identity without realizing it, making an unconscious decision to only live life task to task. Just like Mama stopped living. When Annabell married Mark, the last sparks of hope at having a family of her own fell apart in the reality of a mismatched union.
Annabell was alive again.
Rubbing her cheek against Doku-ni's chest, she sighed in happy gratitude. Had he not come, she would have died under the raider's hand. But before that, Annabell only existed.
Responding to her sigh, Doku-ni squeezed her, sweet and tight. "Greetings, Doku-ni's Anna."
Smoother with use, he had a wonderful voice, a baritone good for singing. "Greetings, Anna's Doku-ni," she said in her bad Orkish.
He purred back at her, bending his head to rub his tusk along her cheek and kiss her brow. Beneath her hands, the endless expanse of muscled chest waited for exploration. Kissing the white skin, she reached up to the line around his neck where the wire necklet scared him, tracing it around to the front of his throat. The skin had healed well; the scar left behind fit together like two pieces of leather, smooth with no mottling.
That rectangle had blocked him from talking and slowed his ability to consume food. Breaking the wire and pulling it and the metal out took minutes. He could have done it at any time. Annabell spent more time removing a thorn from Daisydoo's belly when she got into the brambles than Doku-ni spent pulling a metal plate from his jugular. He could have removed the damn thing, but he had not.
It made her brain ache and her throat throb. How long had it been there? Had it hurt? How much did his strange skin feel? As far as Annabell knew, he felt pain the way she did, understood pain and pleasure as she did. He responded to her touches and when she set her teeth in him he felt it, she was sure he wasn't pretending. Although she could not mark him, he gave every impression of sensitivity and awareness. "Why couldn't you talk? What was that thing in your throat with the wire attached to it? Why were you wearing that?"
"Inhibitor," he said. The word was common, not Orkish.
"Inhibitor?"
He repeated, "Inhibitor. Doku-ni failed his redress. Doku-ni was not worthy of his treasure."
"What?" She hadn't expected the answer to have anything to do with her. But she understood his mix of common and Orkish easily.
"Stops signals, flow. Different inhibitors do different things. Silence inhibitor."
The explanation confused her as much as the reality. "A silence inhibitor? Why? What do you mean?"
A long, drawn-out sound escaped him, a weary noise just like one Zerzer often made. "Doku-ni failed his redress. Doku-ni was not worthy of his treasure," he repeated.
Annabell saw now the connection between herself and his failure. "How did you fail?"
"Doku-ni found bride, but redress young. Shamed. Failure. Not good enough. Only one redress woman for Doku-ni. One lifetime. One and he offend Anna family by approaching Anna too young."
Everything in her protested, the thought of him shamed and not good enough for her. How could he think that? She was the one who failed her parents, family, and everyone around her. "That wasn't you—that was me. That was my family's shame. Benjere and Kejere broke the Peace Law. They sent a friend into the Orki lands. He didn't come back, and it made the whole town angry. They blamed the Orki."
"Yes. Break law. The law is known. Can law change? Time passes, world erode, born again and again in smoke and lava, but Orki live. Orki do not change. Yes, angry. Ri no go again to Anna village. Not welcome. Dangerous. One day it's all days. All days are one day. A day is a life." His words sounded like some austere wisdom from Mama's mouth. They carried the same cadence.
"Is it law that made you stop speaking?" Wiggling loose of his hold, she crawled up his body to put her lips on the base of his throat. His hand followed to the back of her head, holding her there. His every touch made her feel wanted and dear.
It felt wonderful to have this male desire her, reaffirming his affection and bond. See her. He gave her life, worthiness, value. It wasn't that she had no value without him; it was that her value hadn't mattered because after her parents' death, no one ever saw it or acknowledged it. With his every touch, he reminded her of her heartbeat, of the breath in her lungs, of her right to live and feel joy.
"One redress. Redress small life. Doku-ni one life." He caught her face in his hands, peered into her eyes.
Annabell kissed his palm. Since she lacked his ability to purr or create a continuous noise, she smiled, watching his face as she attempted a silly hum. Desire distracted her from things she needed to ask and processing the things he said. The bright pleasure and connection they shared glowed, a beacon inside her chest, hungry for more fuel. Forcing herself to keep her hips still and focus on his eyes, she said, "I don't understand. Why did you have that metal plate
? Did you put it there yourself because I couldn't be your bride?"
His hands slipped down from her head to her throat, increasing her heartbeat.
"Doku-ni failed his bride. Voice and words did not earn redress. Doku-ni did not need voice or words. My redress was found, I lost her."
"But—"
Gently, he stopped her by covering her lips with his thumbs. When she tried to speak, his thumb went in. They hadn't bathed yet, and he smelled like their sex. She was fast losing the ability to hold this conversation. "Doku-ni only One. See only Anna."
His thumb in her mouth, eyes burning, his other hand slid down over her body to her bottom. After that, it was hours before they returned to reasonable conversation.
She needed a wash. Any bowl of water would do. Doku-ni agreed, "Wash, yes. Brothers attend. Anna no see. Waters are not alone. You are my redress woman. You only see me and I only see you. You are my one, I am your one. Do not see my brothers."