by Rachel
The Dark One
By Angela Knight
It was night when I left the city, my bedroll slung across my back,
my wages a weight of gold at my belt. Behind me I could hear feminine
screams, triumphant male bellows, the crackle of burning buildings.
The sack of Trovan's capital had begun.
I had fought for this victory as hard as any mercenary in milord
Britar's service, but I had no taste for the spoils. Nor have I ever
had such a taste; I feel far too much sympathy for the women, warrior
maid that I am. Sympathy -- and perhaps something else.
For among the conquerors this night is Kaska, taking his dark
pleasures in the name of his dark god. Kaska, who for a year was my
sword brother, though in all logic a Maid and a follower of the Dark
One could never be anything but enemies. It's said, after all, that
the god of conquest loves nothing so much as the moans of a defeated
Maid; I would have expected Kaska to challenge me at the first
opportunity. Yet we fought side by side for six months before I
learned what he was.
When I asked him why he hadn't called me out, he told me, "We are
contracted to the same master; in honor, I couldn't deprive milord
Britar of one of his warriors." Then he gave me a slow, white
smile. "But if I'd met you on the field of battle, the Dark One would
still be savoring the nightly sacrifice of your cries."
Ignoring a trickle of heat at the thought, I tossed my head. "More
like your god would be savoring the acid gall of disappointment."
His smile had merely broadened.
Now I suspected he'd only been kind, perhaps sensing my feelings for
him. How could it be otherwise? I would have known if he'd felt
something deeper for me; Kaska was too bold to hide his desires.
For months we'd watched each other's backs, fought shoulder to
shoulder, even shared a tent, yet never had he made the slightest
advance to me. Now, trudging away from Trovan's burning city, I
suspected he'd simply felt no attraction at all. Warrior that I am,
almost as tall as a man -- though not so tall as Kaska himself --
lean muscled and combat toughened, I bear no resemblance at all to
the petite blonde captive he'd enjoyed three days before.
We'd been ranging in advance of the army at the time, just the pair
of us, when we'd caught her sneaking toward the city carrying a
report of milord's troop strength. Evidently she'd been posing as a
camp follower.
She broke quickly enough, telling Kaska everything he wanted to know
before he even had a chance to begin interrogating her. I suspect
that disappointed him; the Dark One's warriors are said to relish
such opportunities. But if so, he hid his disappointment well,
stripping her slim body and binding her hand and foot.
I started to slip out of the tent then, but he looked up at
me. "Stay, Matia. Though you're a warrior indeed, this is one
pleasure of conquest you'll never know."
Nor, in truth, did I have any desire to know it. Yet then he began to
strip, and I was caught. Kaska, though he could be as shameless as
any other warrior, was modest around me. True, I'd secretly admired
the width of his muscled shoulders, the strength of his powerful
thighs, the rippled muscle of his abdomen, but I'd never seen the
bare, hard thrust of his cock, and the prospect intrigued me.
I was not disappointed. His flesh blade was every bit as thick and
long as my secret dreams; the spy whimpered a bit as he turned back
toward her, the sound mingling fear and anticipation. I half expected
him to fall on her and begin thrusting like the bull his cock
suggested, but I'd underestimated him. Instead, Kaska went about
seducing his captive, sipping delicately at her small, pert breasts
until my own much larger ones ached.
A big hand slid between her thighs, stroking her pink petals and
fingering her bud until they began to glisten with her passion. She
moaned, tossing her head, fine blonde hair swirling around her face.
Suddenly I realized my own hand was rubbing against my mound, the
other brushing one breast. I swallowed.
Abruptly Kaska rolled the little spy over on her belly. Looking up,
he locked his crystalline blue gaze into mine. "There is a legend
among the Dark Warriors," he said, in a voice as rich and hot as
whisky. "When the Dark One made women, he gave them two openings.
One, he told the first brothers, was for pleasure and the getting of
children. But the other was forbidden to the common run of men. Do
you know why?"
I licked my lips. "No."
"Because he wanted to make sure his Dark Warriors would have tight
virgin holes to enjoy after a conquest. To this day, the symbol of
victory in our language is derived from the image of a kneeling bound
woman." Using both big hands, he spread his captive's pale, narrow
cheeks. "Look at her. So lovely, so female. So helpless. She knows
she's soon going to feel my hard cock in her ass, and there's nothing
she can do about it. It's my right as her conqueror." Extending a big
forefinger, he touched her tightly furled anal bud. Slowly, he began
to press. She moaned as it sank in a bare fraction. He looked up and
smiled into my eyes, his own burning and bright. "Oh, she's tight,
Matia. She's going to be a delicious fuck."
And she was. He greased her well with a jar of butter, taking his
time, describing to me all the while how hard his cock was, and how
tight she would feel around him. Then, as I watched dry-mouthed, he
mounted her and pressed the thick, round head of his flesh blade to
her backhole. He entered very slowly, the tiny pink anus stretching
desperately to accommodate his size, until he looked as though he'd
split her open. And indeed, her moans and whimpers sounded as though
he was doing just that.
But as he rocked in her, I heard the tone of her cries change, taking
on a note of shamed hunger. Finally I saw her begin to lift her hips
for his entry, until she was thrusting hungrily up at the cock that
was so brutally reaming her. She screamed out her climax just before
his bellow of triumph.
My heart was pounding hard as I turned to find to my own pallet, but
he called my name before I could crawl into it.
He'd withdrawn, and was holding his limp victim's cheeks apart. Her
abused anus pouted, red and swollen from the hard fucking he'd given
it, glistening with butter and pearly drops of male cum. "After we
take Trovan," he told me softly, "every pretty woman in the city will
end the night like this."
At last I escaped to my pallet. But though Kaska and his spy were
soon deeply asleep, I tossed and rolled, remembering the way his
massive flesh blade spread her to splitting.
And, may the goddess forgive me, in the depths of my heart I wished
that brutalized backhole was my own.
I would have expected Kaska to keep the little blonde spy for his own
use, but the next morning he found another dark warrior in milord's
service and gave her to him. The fellow gave me an odd, amused look
and took her away.
Now I puzzled over that. Perhaps Kaska expected to find other
captives during the sack of Trovan.
"Matia."
I felt a leap of joy at that deep, familiar voice, and turned with a
smile. "Kaska. I expected you to be buried to the balls in someone's
ass by now."
He drew his sword. "Oh, I will be soon enough."
My jaw dropped as I stared at him. He'd cleaned away the sweat and
blood of combat, and his long black hair was swept back and tied
neatly. There was a white grin of anticipation on his handsome,
sharply cut face. From the way he held his blade, I knew he was
serious. "You're challenging me? But I thought ...."
"You are no longer in Lord Britar's service, Matia. And neither am I."
The light began to dawn. "All this time, you've been deceiving me."
Rage surged through me, burning away the cold shock. My hand flew to
my side, and I jerked my sword from my scabbard. "Your god will taste
disappointment today."
His blue eyes widened as I drove at him, swinging my blade in a wide,
deadly arc. His surprise was such that he barely parried my attack in
time.
"Such astonishment," I snarled. "Did you think that after pretending
friendship all these months, you'd be safe from me? Did you expect me
to go to my knees and spread my own cheeks for your pleasure? The god
fuck you, Dark Spawn!"
He recovered quickly, meeting my hard, slashing attack with his own
steady blade. "Our friendship was never pretense," he grunted,
deflecting my wild swing at his head. "Yes, perhaps at first. When I
came upon you fighting those brigands, I meant to challenge you after
we killed them."
"But you didn't. Did you think I'd be too much for you?" I swung
again, but he parried it with an insulting ease that demonstrated
just how foolish that idea was.
"You were hurt in the fight, if you'll recall," he said coolly,
blocking a thrust at his groin. "I could hardly have challenged an
injured Maid; the god would not have been pleased. And then, as I was
tending you, you told me you were in Britar's pay. After that,
challenge was out of the question."
"But why deceive me for all these weeks? You could have hunted me
down after I left Britar's employ; it wasn't necessary to lie."
"I never lied." I could see the first flares of temper in his
eyes. "I protected you as tenderly as any man protects his woman."
Realizing I couldn't get through his guard, I pulled back and began
to circle around him, looking for an opening in his guard.
"Now I have a question," he said, his eyes blue and watchful. "You
stayed with me, even shared a tent with me, even after I let you know
I was one of the Dark Brethren. Yet you know how we prize the Maids;
the Dark One prefers their sacrifice over any other, because you
serve Jitai, goddess of the night. The conquest of one of you puts
her at his mercy. Yet knowing that, you stayed. Why, Matia?"
"You were my sword brother," I said bitterly. "I did not think you
would treat me so."
"Then you deceived yourself. I warned you the only thing that kept me
from taking you was our mutual service. Yet you stayed. Days ago I
even demonstrated what I would do to you with that little blonde, yet
still you stayed, though you knew you'd be leaving Britar's service,
and would no longer be exempt from challenge."
"I knew nothing of the kind," I snarled.
"You did know." He smiled slowly. "And what's more, I think you want
it. The idea of being bound and helpless while my cock tunnels up
your virgin ass makes you burn."
"Bastard!"
"Did you think I didn't see the look on your face as you watched me
spread that girl? Did you think I didn't notice your hands between
your thighs as I forced my shaft into her untouched backhole?"
I sung my sword in a singing arch, but he parried it with ease.
"She was so tight, Matia," he purred, "so hot and well-greased, and
she gripped my cock so hard. Yet the way you watched me drill her was
what truly made me burn."
I hacked at him, but he danced aside.
"You wished it was you, Matia. I could see it in your eyes."
"I'm going to kill you, you son of a whore!" I lunged at him.
"You wanted me to forget her and fling you down and ram my hard cock
right up your hungry little backhole..."
Rage made me slow. This time, when I trust my sword at him, I was too
late pulling back. He caught the blade in the quillions of his own
weapon, twisted, wrenched upward.
The sword flew out of my hand and landed fifty feet away.
I was still staring at it when his muscled arm snapped around my
waist, jerking me against every hard inch of him. I felt the cold
steel of his blade brush my throat. Dragging my head around, I looked
up into his eyes. Up into lust and hot male triumph.
I froze, all my strength draining away.
"How many nights have I dreamed of this moment," he said, his voice
rumbling. "How many nights have I watched you as you slept, staring
at your high, round breasts, your long thighs. Watching you roll
over, seeing the way your muscular little butt curved in sweet
invitation. And I'd grab my cock and fist it hard, dreaming of
this ..."
With a wrench of his powerful shoulders, he spun me around and began
to force me face down on the ground. Dazed, I struggled weakly. Was
he going to take me now? Here? Where anyone could see?
He caught my arms, brought them behind my back. Twisting, I watched
him pull out a length of rope and began quickly tying my wrists. I
knew I should fight -- if it had been anyone else, I'd be struggling
like a hillcat -- but instead I lay still, paralyzed.
"The night after I took the blonde, you got very drunk. I'd never
seen you drink like that; I wondered what you were trying not to
think about." He was roping my ankles now. "You passed out. I'd had a
bit to drink myself, and when I looked over and saw the way you lay
on your belly, tunic pulled up to bare an ass clad only in a
rumpcloth, I couldn't resist. I went to you and pulled the cloth
away, and looked my fill at that round, tight little butt.
"I smelled something, a hint of female musk. When I reached between
your thighs, I found you hot and wet. And tight, so tight, tight as
maid indeed. God, I was tempted. My cock was hard as a sword. I
couldn't resist spreading your cheeks for a look at your other
opening. My fingers were creamy from your pussy, but still your tiny
anus resisted my forefinger. You were tighter even than the blonde.
With my other hand, I took hold of my aching rod and began to seek
relief while I explored your backhole. Sliding my finger in and out,
watching the way you pulled and sucked at it, I imagined you were
bound and waiting for me to take you. So there I was, fis
ting my cock
and fingerfucking you, when suddenly you moaned my name.
"I froze, cold sober, wondering how I was going to explain this to
you. But then you lifted your hips so that my finger slid even more
deeply into your backhole. 'Kaska,' you whimpered. I knew then what
you were dreaming of that had made you so wet and hot."
He straddled me and deliberately pressed his hips into my rump.
Feeling how thick he was, I fought a moan.
"So I began to finger your rectum in earnest, rubbing your clit with
my thumb while I stretched you with long strokes, first one finger,
then two, then three, jerking hard at my cock while I watched your
anus struggle to take me."
I barely suppressed the urge to grind up into his menacing hardness.
"And all the while you kept pumping your hips, taking my fingers and
groaning. You had to have been awake, yet the next morning I could
tell you didn't remember any of it."
"I thought it was a dream," I whispered, shivering. "Even when I felt
the soreness, I thought I'd imagined it."
He laughed, a liquor-hot purl of sound, and lifted off me so he could
turn me over to face him. "Well, you certainly won't be imagining
your sore little backhole tomorrow. You'll be lucky if you can walk."
Kaska's eyes were fever bright as he looked down at me; eyes that
owned me and savored that ownership, anticipating the possession to
come with frank lust. "I gave you your first anal orgasm that night.